round one prompt post - CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS
ROUND ONE IS CURRENTLY CLOSED TO PROMPTS. ANY PROMPT POSTED HERE FROM NOW ON WILL BE DELETED.
New rounds will open at suits_meme.
Round One is officially closed. Round Two will open on Wednesday morning. Feel free to continue posting fills.
Refer to the Rules before posting a prompt.
Direct any of your concerns to the Mod Post.
I'll be archiving prompts (both ( Read more... )
New rounds will open at suits_meme.
Round One is officially closed. Round Two will open on Wednesday morning. Feel free to continue posting fills.
Refer to the Rules before posting a prompt.
Direct any of your concerns to the Mod Post.
I'll be archiving prompts (both ( Read more... )
Harvey is standing behind him, supremely unruffled in a crisp suit, most likely having just left the office for the day.
“Jesus Christ,” Mike repeats.
Harvey merely raises an eyebrow. “Austen,” he repeats.
“Fuck,” Mike says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down. He fumbles with the side of the shelf, patting it awkwardly as if to reassure himself that it was still standing. "Sorry, I mean I--shit--I mean, sorry, sorry, I don't have it."
Harvey's stare doesn't waver. “I already sold it,” Mike adds.
At that, Harvey presses his lips together in a thin line. “Hm,” says Harvey, somehow managing to twist the single-syllable non-word into a sneer. “That’s disappointing.”
Harvey leaves, door slamming shut behind him, and Mike continues to stand there at a loss, wondering why the hell he's the one who feels like a complete ass over a book that Harvey had never even said he wanted. He gives himself a little shake, smacks himself on the cheek a few times, says, “What the fuck,” rather loudly to the empty store at large, and goes to make a phone call to the historian that came in last week to see if she would have any interest in any of the twenty or so pre-18th-century Bibles he’s still got downstairs.
He stubs his toe against the edge of the register, because it's just turning into one of those days. "Fuck my life," he snarls bitterly through gritted teeth. "I'm just trying to sell some goddamn books!"
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“You,” he says accusingly, when Harvey tries to buy a secondhand gardening book. “You.”
Harvey squints at him. “I’m sure you have something here on getting over stutters,” he says.
“You’re what will get me over my stutters,” Mike glowers, and Harvey grins.
*
“Mike!”
“What!” Mike is perched precariously atop a mixed stack of oversized atlases and encyclopedias. Whatever Harvey wants, Mike isn’t too keen on losing a tooth over it.
”Mike!”
”What!”
Harvey is standing right next to him now. Mike can feel him breathing. Mike, determinedly, does not look down.
“What,” he grits out, as he peers over the top of the high shelf, checking for any stray dust particles.
“Is this supposed to be a show?”
Mike wishes he had the balls to kick out. Instead, he carefully descends, breathing out a sigh of relief when his feet touch solid, level ground.
“Enjoy it while you can,” he says. “It’s not going to be free forever.”
Harvey smirks.
“Were you looking for something?” Mike asks.
Harvey shakes his head. “Just looking.”
The bell over the shop door rings out cheerily, and Mike hurries forward to help his new customer. The woman is dressed neatly, and Mike isn’t sure whether he should be charmed or intimidated.
“Hi,” he says. “How can I help you?”
She looks him over, sizing him up, and Mike feels like he should bow or something.
“You find books for people,” she says. “You should find a book for me.”
“Er,” says Mike. Redheads have always made him nervous, but this woman does it especially well. “I can do that. What were you looking for?”
She stares at him. “Don’t you know?”
“Er,” says Mike. “Well usually--”
“I want something with a strong female lead,” she says.
Mike nods. “How about Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice? or Emma? I’ve got copies just here.”
He leads her towards the next shelf over and retrieves the books, but she’s already thumbing through a copy of Twilight. “Oh,” he says. “You might not like that as much.”
“Why?” she asks. “Because I’m a working woman in the 21st century, so I must hate trashy romances?”
Mike blinks. “Um,” he says intelligently. “No, no, I wasn’t--I just thought that you’d enjoy these better since they both have heroines who don’t take shit from anyone.”
“Oh,” says the redhead, and she smiles at him beatifically. “In that case, I’ll take it.”
Harvey’s eyebrows are in their trademark spot, nearly in danger of disappearing into his hairline. He looks impressed.
“Oh my God,” says Mike, as if it’s a revelation (which it is). “This--she--Austen turns you on.” He manages to sound both disgusted and utterly fascinated.
The redhead frowns at them both. “That’s your wingman?” she asks Harvey with a terribly concealed sneer that suddenly makes Mike wish the ground would just swallow him whole.
“He’s new,” Harvey says mildly. He turns to face Mike fully. “Down, boy,” he says.
“Fuck you,” Mike retorts pithily.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” says the girl, not at all sympathetic.
“You,” says Mike. “Never come back here.”
“You don’t mean that,” she says.
“Yes, I do,” he says.
She squints at him. “No, I don’t think so.”
He sighs. “No, that’s true. I hope you come back soon.”
She pats him on the arm. It is oddly mollifying.
“Can you do that again?” he asks.
She smiles, indulgent.
Harvey makes a noise of disapproval.
“Sorry,” Mike says, very forlornly. “I’m just not good at this wingman thing.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “You’re probably just meant for better things. Like me.”
Mike smiles at her. “I hope so,” he says earnestly. “Hey, just wondering, but is there any chance you’d like a Bible?”
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Harvey cocks an eyebrow, because Harvey has moved on from raising both eyebrows to perfecting the arch in his right brow. “Really,” he says.
“I have more books coming in than I do customers,” says Mike. “That’s a problem.”
“Is it now,” says Harvey.
“Somebody asked for a refund the other day,” says Mike. “On one of the bargain bin books.”
“Well, they’re terrible,” says Harvey. “I don’t know why he bought it in the first place. He shouldn’t have gotten a refund based on that fact alone.”
“He wanted a refund on something that cost ten cents,” says Mike. “Who gets refunds for ten pennies?”
“Assholes,” suggests Harvey. “Also, I see you forgot to say that you have more customers coming in as well.”
“No, I didn’t,” Mike argues. “I’m getting there. Jesus, shut up for a second won’t you? I have more customers coming in.”
“That’s great,” Harvey says. “So the feng shui is working.”
“Not great!” yells Mike. “I don’t have time for them! I can’t care for them! My reputation will be ruined!”
“I doubt that,” Harvey says.
“You don’t understand,” Mike says stubbornly. “You think this is all fun and games, but it’s not. It’s hard work, and just because I’m not some hotshot lawyer doesn’t mean that I don’t know what I’m doing, so thank you, for being a total tool and making my shop into something that it’s not.”
Harvey snorts. “And what’s that? Successful?”
Mike glares at him. “Unique,” he snaps.
Harvey rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes,” he says tonelessly. “Selling used books, who would’ve ever thought of that? Someone get Ebay on the line--Oh, wait.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Mike snipes. “Oh, aren’t you cute.”
“Adorable,” says Harvey smugly.
“I don’t need your charity,” Mike says. “In case you can’t tell. The more you try to ‘help’ me, the more you are not helping.”
“I’m not giving you charity,” Harvey says, looking affronted. “And I am helping. Word-of-mouth is the best business campaign since Sex Sells.”
“Harvey, you brought lawyers! High-strung lawyers! Lawyers who make threats! Do you know how seriously deranged your friends are? Because I’ve never seen so many subpoenas before in my life--I’ve never seen a subpoena before!”
“Oh,” says Harvey. “No, those weren’t friends. Those are the lawyers I beat in court.”
Mike makes a strangling motion, but Harvey doesn’t seem to comprehend.
“I don’t need your help, Harvey. I just really need you to stop.”
“No,” says Harvey. “You really don’t.”
Mike’s face is pinched. He knows it is. He is making it as pinched as it will get.
“Harvey,” he says. “I am not above begging.”
Harvey smirks. “Oh, I know. I’m counting on it.”
Mike ignores him. “Make the lawyers stop coming,” he says. “Stop ordering me books in Elvish. I cannot deal with another fucking geek-boy raid. Just stop ordering me books, period, okay? I have nowhere to put them, and no one to sell them to, because I am sure as hell not selling them to the people who are threatening me to sue me over shit that never even happened. You want to help, Harvey? Then help! Stop fucking me over, and don’t even try to say that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, because I know you Harvey--oh, don’t even try it, I do know you, okay, as much as I don’t want to admit it--you are doing this because you think it’s fun, because you think it’s funny. You haven’t exactly been subtle, Harvey.”
As he rants, Mike sees Harvey smirk become wider and wider until it resembles something less of a smirk and more of a full-blown grin. Somewhere along the line, Mike stops and looks away, chewing in the inside of his cheek. “Oh,” he says stupidly. “So that was--You were--And then I--”
“And then you--” Harvey begins, undoubtedly ready to mock him for all that he’s worth, so Mike kisses him and effectively shuts him up.
“You are one of the most ridiculous people I have ever met,” Harvey tells him later, after coffee, after dinner, after shirts-off-under-the-covers. “And I have met some ridiculous people.”
“Whatever,” says Mike happily. “I’m one of a kind.”
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