Sharp Dressed Man (Not Looking For Love)
An anon prompted me on Tumblr..."mike/harvey prompt, where mike is a street musician, playing outside of the ph building. he’s practically living on the street, harvey takes him home, but he’s… damaged"
And this is the result...
The first time Harvey sees him, the kid’s singing Bad Moon Rising, fingers playing over the guitar like he was born for it, wearing a slightly threadbare suit to try and fit into his surroundings.
Harvey makes Ray give him $10 and he smiles on his way up to his office and hums Bad Moon Rising all day.
…
The second time the kid’s being moved on by cops and Harvey, for some unknown reason, steps in and swoops the kid up, gets rid of the cops, buys him a coffee and watches him wolf down a bagel like he hasn’t eaten for three weeks. He looks warily at Harvey though, eyes big and blue over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Why did you do that?” he asks, then wipes the back of his arm across his mouth. Harvey shrugs in an un-Harvey Specter way.
“Because I can,” he answers but to be honest he has no idea why and it almost scares him.
…
The next time Harvey sees him, the kid grins and plays Sharp Dressed Man.
Harvey has a hard time not thinking about bright blue eyes and the knowing smile for the rest of the day.
…
He doesn’t seem him for a few weeks and Harvey hates the fact that he looks out for him every morning and the punch to the gut feeling of disappointment when he doesn’t hear the dulcet tones of his guitar.
“Miss me?” Harvey represses the urge to jump as warm breath brushes against his ear. He turns to see the kid grinning at him, guitar slung across his back. He looks skinner, he’s got that almost feral street kid malnourished look, but its backed by lean muscles in his forearms and Harvey knows the kid’s street wise and can handle himself in a fight if needs be. Harvey raises an eyebrow and sips at his coffee. The kid smiles and runs his hand through his dirty blond hair, “Mike…by the way.”
“You’ll need a better suit if you want to look like you fit in around here,” Harvey says and takes a sip of his coffee. Mike watches as Harvey runs his tongue over his lower lip and files away the way Mike parts his lips slightly for future reference. Mike then scoffs and shoves a hand into his pocket.
“I’ll have a word with my tailor,” he says and Harvey raises an eyebrow, pushes a mug of coffee into the kid’s hand and strides across the square to his office without a backwards glance.
…
“Harvey Specter,” he’s not surprised, he should be, but something about Mike screams intelligence so he just raises an eyebrow and nods for the kid to continue, “best closer in the city, works for Pearson Hardman, doesn’t have the highest billables in the company, but has the best reputation, looking to make Senior Partner pretty damn soon. Graduated second in his class at Harvard Law…how am I doing so far?” The kid grins and Harvey’s struck by the way his smile lights up his face.
“And you know all this how?” Harvey asks and Mike shrugs. He’s without his guitar today, wearing a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. There are fading bruises on his arms and Harvey feels a surge of anger directed towards whoever put them there.
“I read it,” Mike says, fishing in his pocket for a crumpled $5 note and smoothing it out between his fingers.
“You read it?” Harvey asks and Mike nods his head, folds the note neatly and puts it back in his pocket.
“Yes, Harvey, I can read,” he says it as a joke, but there’s a fierce defensiveness in his eyes and Harvey can’t help the spike of something at the way the kid says his name. It’s ridiculous, he knows nothing about him other than his name and that he can sing, and yet Harvey finds himself thinking about his eyes most of the time.
“Good to know,” Harvey quips back and Mike bites on his bottom lip. “Stop that.”
He stops, immediately, releasing his bottom lip and his eyes get slightly wider. Huh.
…
It’s not like they’re dating, because that would be weird, but they fall into some sort of routine, they have coffee every morning, Mike sips at his, makes it last, laughs when Harvey tells him its best to drink it hot, tells Harvey that cold coffee has kept him awake, and therefore alive, on more than one occasion and Harvey ignores the burning need to swoop the kid up and lock him away forever, out of harm’s way.
Mike quite often meets him outside the office late at night, when Harvey’s bone tired and wanting nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep for a week. Harvey asks him about his day, Mike shrugs and makes up stories about office politics and how the markets are heading downhill, it makes Harvey smile.
He can’t shake the feeling that Mike’s made for more than surviving on the streets.
…
It takes two months for Mike to touch him and it catches Harvey completely unaware.
“And then David said…” Mike’s making up more stories, its late and Harvey’s tired but reluctant to go home. Mike’s hand slides against Harvey’s as they walk the streets together and they both freeze. It’s Mike that moves first though, turning his hand and sliding his fingers down the back of Harvey’s. He doesn’t look at Harvey, stares straight a head and bites on his bottom lip and Harvey spreads his fingers and lets Mike curl them together. His hand is warm and Harvey squeezes gently and sees Mike suppress a grin out of the corner of his eye. Mike pulls his hand away and launches back into the story and Harvey tries to ignore the way his skin burns.
…
Mike’s not there the next morning, not there to serenade Harvey to his office, or to wink across the square at him, share a coffee and touch the back of his hand almost shyly. Harvey tries to swallow down the worry. The kid’s smart, he’s probably street wise, God knows how long he’s lived on the streets for, but if his attitude is anything to go by, it’s a long time. Harvey snaps at everyone, including Donna, who mutters something about missing his pet street kid as she storms out. Harvey’s irritated and worried and he hates it.
Mike’s not there in the evening, and Harvey goes out, gets drunk and picks up a woman who smells good and has blonde hair and big blue eyes.
Mike’s still not there the following morning and Harvey hates the fact he can’t fix this by arguing.
…
“Where the hell have you been?” Mike flinches at Harvey’s tone that evening, after bounding up to Harvey like a lost puppy, grin on his face.
“You mad?” Mike asks, and there’s a slight smirk threatening at the corner of his lips. Harvey sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“I was…worried, and I’m unused to being worried about someone other than me,” Harvey admits and Mike’s face softens and he reaches out and runs his fingers across Harvey’s knuckles.
“I’m good,” he says and that’s when Harvey notices the bruise across his cheekbone.
“Yeah I can see that,” Mike grimaces and touches the bruise lightly, shrugging. Harvey pulls his hand away from his face, “look at me,” and Mike does, snaps his eyes upwards, “don’t make me worry again.”
“I’m sorry,” Mike curls his fingers around Harvey’s thumb as it strokes across Mike’s palm. Mike sways slightly closer and Harvey takes half a step forward, he feels the pull, the inexplicable need to be closer, to feel Mike’s breath against his lips. Mike’s pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
Harvey’s cell phone rings. Obnoxiously in his pocket and Mike springs backwards, runs a hand through his hair.
“I’ve got to take this,” Harvey says and Mike nods, shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
…
“Do we have any jobs in the mail room?” Jessica looks up from her files and arches an expertly styled eyebrow.
“Fed up with being a Senior Partner?” She asks and Harvey takes a step into her office.
“There’s this kid,” Harvey starts and Jessica sighs. Heavily.
“There’s always a kid,” she says and Harvey frowns.
“No I mean it this time. I think he could work out,” Harvey tries to keep the pleading out of his voice and ignores the little voice in the back of his head asking him what the hell he’s doing.
“On your head be it,” Jessica says and waves him out.
…
“Where do you live?” Mike’s got his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, his nails are bitten, but his fingers are long, almost elegant. He looks up from his pretzel.
“Wherever,” he says, flicks a bit of salt from the pretzel.
“Feel like moving up in the world?” Harvey asks and Mike frowns warily at him.
“I don’t need charity,” he says and Harvey sighs.
“Don’t be so proud, you live on the street and busk for a living, I’m offering you a job, kid, take it and say thank you,” there’s a flash of defiance in Mike’s eyes, his body goes taught and he stares at Harvey. “Think about it.” Harvey throws some notes on the table and heads back to his office.
…
“Harvey,” Donna’s voice sounds vaguely amused as she calls him from the downstairs lobby, “there’s a scrawny kid in a bad suit and a skinny tie down here looking for you.”
“What are you doing downstairs and not at your desk doing a job I pay you for?” Harvey asks and ignores the way his stomach clenches. Donna scoffs.
“I’ll bring him up then shall I?” She hangs up before he has a chance to reply.
…
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, Mike to bound in, or to hover in the doorway looking awkward but he does neither, he strides in, all confidence and surety, no matter how false it is. Harvey stands, rounds his desk and Mike meets him, wraps his hands around Harvey’s face and leans in to kiss him, just a press of lips but its hard in its urgency.
“I don’t want your job,” he says once he’s pulled away and Harvey can remember how to breathe, “I don’t need it, I can find something else,” his hands play at the back of Harvey’s neck and Harvey tries to ignore the looks of the other Pearson Hardman employees, wonders how long its going to take Louis to find out Harvey’s embracing some street kid in his office. “What I do want is…your help with that, though,” Mike lets him go and steps back, clasps his hands together in front of him and looks slightly embarrassed.
“I can do that,” Harvey says and Mike beams at him. “But you can’t live on the streets and go to interviews in those clothes, so you’re moving in with me until I can help you get back on your feet, plus we’re going shopping,” Mike frowns.
“Harvey,” He starts, shaking his head.
“Don’t argue, I’ll win,” Harvey says and Mike bites on his bottom lip and frowns in confusion.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this…for me,” he sounds lost, so unlike the almost confident Mike who strode in here and kissed Harvey. Harvey’s lips still tingle.
“Because I can,” he replies and Mike sighs, but smiles at him.
“You doing this to get in my pants?” he asks with a grin and Harvey laughs, puts his hand on Mike’s lower back and ushers him out of the office, they need a session with Rene stat.
“Like I need to try,” Harvey says, “you kissed me remember?”
“Yeah,” Mike replies as the elevator doors slide shut. “That was probably one of my better ideas.”
Harvey crowds into Mike’s space, backs him up against the elevator wall and Mike’s hands land on Harvey’s hips, fingers dig in slightly.
“I have an even better idea for later,” he says and Mike’s hips rock forwards into his.
“Really Harvey? Taking advantage of a young man who needs your help, that’s just low,” Harvey huffs out a laugh and wraps his hands around Mike’s face.
“Taking advantage?” he brushes his lips against Mike’s and feels Mike’s hand grip tighter at his hips, “you want this as much as I do.” Mike doesn’t deny it, just kisses Harvey. Harvey kisses him back and hopes to hell they can make this work.
And this is the result...
The first time Harvey sees him, the kid’s singing Bad Moon Rising, fingers playing over the guitar like he was born for it, wearing a slightly threadbare suit to try and fit into his surroundings.
Harvey makes Ray give him $10 and he smiles on his way up to his office and hums Bad Moon Rising all day.
…
The second time the kid’s being moved on by cops and Harvey, for some unknown reason, steps in and swoops the kid up, gets rid of the cops, buys him a coffee and watches him wolf down a bagel like he hasn’t eaten for three weeks. He looks warily at Harvey though, eyes big and blue over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Why did you do that?” he asks, then wipes the back of his arm across his mouth. Harvey shrugs in an un-Harvey Specter way.
“Because I can,” he answers but to be honest he has no idea why and it almost scares him.
…
The next time Harvey sees him, the kid grins and plays Sharp Dressed Man.
Harvey has a hard time not thinking about bright blue eyes and the knowing smile for the rest of the day.
…
He doesn’t seem him for a few weeks and Harvey hates the fact that he looks out for him every morning and the punch to the gut feeling of disappointment when he doesn’t hear the dulcet tones of his guitar.
“Miss me?” Harvey represses the urge to jump as warm breath brushes against his ear. He turns to see the kid grinning at him, guitar slung across his back. He looks skinner, he’s got that almost feral street kid malnourished look, but its backed by lean muscles in his forearms and Harvey knows the kid’s street wise and can handle himself in a fight if needs be. Harvey raises an eyebrow and sips at his coffee. The kid smiles and runs his hand through his dirty blond hair, “Mike…by the way.”
“You’ll need a better suit if you want to look like you fit in around here,” Harvey says and takes a sip of his coffee. Mike watches as Harvey runs his tongue over his lower lip and files away the way Mike parts his lips slightly for future reference. Mike then scoffs and shoves a hand into his pocket.
“I’ll have a word with my tailor,” he says and Harvey raises an eyebrow, pushes a mug of coffee into the kid’s hand and strides across the square to his office without a backwards glance.
…
“Harvey Specter,” he’s not surprised, he should be, but something about Mike screams intelligence so he just raises an eyebrow and nods for the kid to continue, “best closer in the city, works for Pearson Hardman, doesn’t have the highest billables in the company, but has the best reputation, looking to make Senior Partner pretty damn soon. Graduated second in his class at Harvard Law…how am I doing so far?” The kid grins and Harvey’s struck by the way his smile lights up his face.
“And you know all this how?” Harvey asks and Mike shrugs. He’s without his guitar today, wearing a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. There are fading bruises on his arms and Harvey feels a surge of anger directed towards whoever put them there.
“I read it,” Mike says, fishing in his pocket for a crumpled $5 note and smoothing it out between his fingers.
“You read it?” Harvey asks and Mike nods his head, folds the note neatly and puts it back in his pocket.
“Yes, Harvey, I can read,” he says it as a joke, but there’s a fierce defensiveness in his eyes and Harvey can’t help the spike of something at the way the kid says his name. It’s ridiculous, he knows nothing about him other than his name and that he can sing, and yet Harvey finds himself thinking about his eyes most of the time.
“Good to know,” Harvey quips back and Mike bites on his bottom lip. “Stop that.”
He stops, immediately, releasing his bottom lip and his eyes get slightly wider. Huh.
…
It’s not like they’re dating, because that would be weird, but they fall into some sort of routine, they have coffee every morning, Mike sips at his, makes it last, laughs when Harvey tells him its best to drink it hot, tells Harvey that cold coffee has kept him awake, and therefore alive, on more than one occasion and Harvey ignores the burning need to swoop the kid up and lock him away forever, out of harm’s way.
Mike quite often meets him outside the office late at night, when Harvey’s bone tired and wanting nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep for a week. Harvey asks him about his day, Mike shrugs and makes up stories about office politics and how the markets are heading downhill, it makes Harvey smile.
He can’t shake the feeling that Mike’s made for more than surviving on the streets.
…
It takes two months for Mike to touch him and it catches Harvey completely unaware.
“And then David said…” Mike’s making up more stories, its late and Harvey’s tired but reluctant to go home. Mike’s hand slides against Harvey’s as they walk the streets together and they both freeze. It’s Mike that moves first though, turning his hand and sliding his fingers down the back of Harvey’s. He doesn’t look at Harvey, stares straight a head and bites on his bottom lip and Harvey spreads his fingers and lets Mike curl them together. His hand is warm and Harvey squeezes gently and sees Mike suppress a grin out of the corner of his eye. Mike pulls his hand away and launches back into the story and Harvey tries to ignore the way his skin burns.
…
Mike’s not there the next morning, not there to serenade Harvey to his office, or to wink across the square at him, share a coffee and touch the back of his hand almost shyly. Harvey tries to swallow down the worry. The kid’s smart, he’s probably street wise, God knows how long he’s lived on the streets for, but if his attitude is anything to go by, it’s a long time. Harvey snaps at everyone, including Donna, who mutters something about missing his pet street kid as she storms out. Harvey’s irritated and worried and he hates it.
Mike’s not there in the evening, and Harvey goes out, gets drunk and picks up a woman who smells good and has blonde hair and big blue eyes.
Mike’s still not there the following morning and Harvey hates the fact he can’t fix this by arguing.
…
“Where the hell have you been?” Mike flinches at Harvey’s tone that evening, after bounding up to Harvey like a lost puppy, grin on his face.
“You mad?” Mike asks, and there’s a slight smirk threatening at the corner of his lips. Harvey sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“I was…worried, and I’m unused to being worried about someone other than me,” Harvey admits and Mike’s face softens and he reaches out and runs his fingers across Harvey’s knuckles.
“I’m good,” he says and that’s when Harvey notices the bruise across his cheekbone.
“Yeah I can see that,” Mike grimaces and touches the bruise lightly, shrugging. Harvey pulls his hand away from his face, “look at me,” and Mike does, snaps his eyes upwards, “don’t make me worry again.”
“I’m sorry,” Mike curls his fingers around Harvey’s thumb as it strokes across Mike’s palm. Mike sways slightly closer and Harvey takes half a step forward, he feels the pull, the inexplicable need to be closer, to feel Mike’s breath against his lips. Mike’s pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.
Harvey’s cell phone rings. Obnoxiously in his pocket and Mike springs backwards, runs a hand through his hair.
“I’ve got to take this,” Harvey says and Mike nods, shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
…
“Do we have any jobs in the mail room?” Jessica looks up from her files and arches an expertly styled eyebrow.
“Fed up with being a Senior Partner?” She asks and Harvey takes a step into her office.
“There’s this kid,” Harvey starts and Jessica sighs. Heavily.
“There’s always a kid,” she says and Harvey frowns.
“No I mean it this time. I think he could work out,” Harvey tries to keep the pleading out of his voice and ignores the little voice in the back of his head asking him what the hell he’s doing.
“On your head be it,” Jessica says and waves him out.
…
“Where do you live?” Mike’s got his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, his nails are bitten, but his fingers are long, almost elegant. He looks up from his pretzel.
“Wherever,” he says, flicks a bit of salt from the pretzel.
“Feel like moving up in the world?” Harvey asks and Mike frowns warily at him.
“I don’t need charity,” he says and Harvey sighs.
“Don’t be so proud, you live on the street and busk for a living, I’m offering you a job, kid, take it and say thank you,” there’s a flash of defiance in Mike’s eyes, his body goes taught and he stares at Harvey. “Think about it.” Harvey throws some notes on the table and heads back to his office.
…
“Harvey,” Donna’s voice sounds vaguely amused as she calls him from the downstairs lobby, “there’s a scrawny kid in a bad suit and a skinny tie down here looking for you.”
“What are you doing downstairs and not at your desk doing a job I pay you for?” Harvey asks and ignores the way his stomach clenches. Donna scoffs.
“I’ll bring him up then shall I?” She hangs up before he has a chance to reply.
…
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, Mike to bound in, or to hover in the doorway looking awkward but he does neither, he strides in, all confidence and surety, no matter how false it is. Harvey stands, rounds his desk and Mike meets him, wraps his hands around Harvey’s face and leans in to kiss him, just a press of lips but its hard in its urgency.
“I don’t want your job,” he says once he’s pulled away and Harvey can remember how to breathe, “I don’t need it, I can find something else,” his hands play at the back of Harvey’s neck and Harvey tries to ignore the looks of the other Pearson Hardman employees, wonders how long its going to take Louis to find out Harvey’s embracing some street kid in his office. “What I do want is…your help with that, though,” Mike lets him go and steps back, clasps his hands together in front of him and looks slightly embarrassed.
“I can do that,” Harvey says and Mike beams at him. “But you can’t live on the streets and go to interviews in those clothes, so you’re moving in with me until I can help you get back on your feet, plus we’re going shopping,” Mike frowns.
“Harvey,” He starts, shaking his head.
“Don’t argue, I’ll win,” Harvey says and Mike bites on his bottom lip and frowns in confusion.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this…for me,” he sounds lost, so unlike the almost confident Mike who strode in here and kissed Harvey. Harvey’s lips still tingle.
“Because I can,” he replies and Mike sighs, but smiles at him.
“You doing this to get in my pants?” he asks with a grin and Harvey laughs, puts his hand on Mike’s lower back and ushers him out of the office, they need a session with Rene stat.
“Like I need to try,” Harvey says, “you kissed me remember?”
“Yeah,” Mike replies as the elevator doors slide shut. “That was probably one of my better ideas.”
Harvey crowds into Mike’s space, backs him up against the elevator wall and Mike’s hands land on Harvey’s hips, fingers dig in slightly.
“I have an even better idea for later,” he says and Mike’s hips rock forwards into his.
“Really Harvey? Taking advantage of a young man who needs your help, that’s just low,” Harvey huffs out a laugh and wraps his hands around Mike’s face.
“Taking advantage?” he brushes his lips against Mike’s and feels Mike’s hand grip tighter at his hips, “you want this as much as I do.” Mike doesn’t deny it, just kisses Harvey. Harvey kisses him back and hopes to hell they can make this work.