Fic: The Last Day
Title: The Last Day
Fandom: Suits.
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Lies and slander. Don't own, never will. Sadly.
Summary: Originally written as a piece of homework! Harvey's in a foul mood, and Mike's about to find out why.
"Michael, get to the office. Now."
Before the young man had a chance to answer, the phone line went dead. He cursed inwardly, heaving himself off the tattered mocha sofa, brushing the remnants of the three hours sleep he'd had from his eyes. His feet hit piles of folders and papers he'd been working on through the night; half the briefs hadn't even been read, let alone finished. Harvey was going to kill him.
He checked the time on his phone. 4.00am. There was not (so far as Mike knew) a million-dollar deal going on, or an important deal of any kind- so why was he up so early? Harvey was the 'Devil Wears Prada' type of boss, but 4am- that was just too early, even for him.
His mind raced back to the 'phone call' he'd received a few seconds back, and something hit him.
Michael. Not 'Mike'. Michael. He'd been called a number of things by his boss in the past; 'Kid', 'Tinkerbelle', and even 'Britney' when he'd got drunk at the Christmas party, stood up on the table and belted 'Hit Me Baby, One More Time.'
Bur never Michael.
Once he was through the immaculately polished glass doors of the firm, Harvey was onto him like a bloodhound.
"It's 4.20. When I ask for you at 4.00, I mean 4.00, you lazy, ignorant-child." Mike was hounded all the way up the elevator; the briefs, the papers, the patents- they were all wrong. And so was Harvey. Yes, he was generally pernicious and vindictive-that wasn't what was bothering Mike. It was the fact that his threats sounded genuine and forceful, instead of Harvey just trying to make him reach a little higher and work a little harder. It was also his eyes. The deep, chocolate wells that normally sparkled with the thrill of a new deal, were dull and lifeless, as if he had stopped…caring. Mike was about to ask what was wrong, but before a single syllable left his mouth, Harvey stormed out of the elevator, leaving clouds of anger and confusion spiraling in Mike's mind.
From then on, the taunts and rants got exponentially worse. Every five minutes, Harvey left his office and came over to 'check-up' on what he was doing; and each time, something was wrong. First it was Mike's crooked tie:
"God, are you even unable to dress yourself? Tinker, that's low, even for you." Each rant was stingingly vicious, and so loud, that by his lunch-break, Mike found he was unable to look his colleagues in the eye. When Mike was yelled at in front of the entire board, namely "idiot", "imbecile" and "total and utter cretin", the humility was too much to bear. Mike burst out of the meeting and into the bathroom on the verge of tears, his cheeks burning with shame.
He leant against a sink and pressed his forehead against the mirror, hoping that some of the pent up fury in his mind would be soothed away. His anger was released in the form of tears, which rolled down his cheeks in a continuous stream, and were wiped away furiously. This bout of sobbing was so violent, that he had to place his hand on either side of the sink in order to compose himself.
"What the hell was that?"
The sound of his boss's voice made Mike jump, swallow hard and clench his fists all in one go. He gritted his teeth, and turned to face him. A rational mind would have said something to try and ameliorate the circumstances, but Mike's mind was warped by passionate anger, and was beyond any point of reason.
"I could ask you the same question."
There was not the slightest hint of remorse in those dark eyes that belonged to the figure in monochrome. They had turned from deep brown to crow black, like small dark pebbles reflecting a steely glare.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Mike's voice was quivering with rage. His heart was pounding in his chest, his veins throbbed, his nails dug into the palms of hands; but he couldn't feel the pain- his entire being was focused on something else: expelling his mind of the feelings he had kept bottled up the entire day.
But it was Harvey's glare that kept Mike from an outburst of anger; his eyes were pinning him to the ground, staring into his soul and daring him to speak.
Suddenly the hatred ebbed away, and instead of giving a vicious tongue-lashing, Mike crumpled under his boss's gaze. He felt helpless and tormented, and now his mind wanted nothing more than some answers. With fresh tears forming in his eyes, he stared at Harvey, and with the ingenuousness and confusion of a young child he asked,
"Why do you hate me?"
Harvey's eyes widened, the dark stones became large brown saucers; his face flushed with guilt, and his sharp facial features adopted a deeply wounded expression. There was a pause as he stared down at the floor; a sign of insecurity that Mike had never seen him display. When Harvey looked up, he spoke; the voice was tight with the strain of a thousand held back tears.
It was the voice of a man Mike didn't know existed.
"It's my last day today. I'm quitting the firm- another company requires my services abroad."
Harvey cleared his throat and continued; his breathing uneven and the volume of his voice was extensively diminished. He readied himself for the inevitable purge of emotion; emotions that he had felt ever since he had first laid eyes on his associate.
"And every time I see you…"
He drew a sharp intake of breath; clenched his fingers while his mind said:
"Now. Tell him. It's time."
"…I realise what I'm going to miss."
His mind filled with just those images: Mike arriving late and sleepy with mussed up fair hair, falling delicately into those light grey irises. Mike highlighting pages frantically, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his pale forehead, a look of worry and utter concentration on his soft features. Mike catching a little snooze, when he thought Harvey couldn't see him; his chest rising and falling gently with even breaths.
Mike.
Mike, who was currently in front of him, deep pink lips slightly parted, mind in a daze- silver eyes staring at something and nothing all at once.
Harvey took advantage of his employee's doll-like trance and placed his lips on his; the kiss was slow yet urgent, trying to soften the loss and pain they would both eventually feel as a result of this cruel love. Harvey's stubble seemed hardly noticeable; but when it grazed against Mike's cheek, he thought his nerve endings were on fire. Mike pressed himself into the soft folds of Harvey's shirt, inhaled expensive cologne and natural musk, trying to take in as much of Harvey as he could. He murmured, more to himself than to Harvey, voice muffled by cloth;
"Please don't leave."
Harvey didn't reply, just held his beloved. Silent tears poured down Mike's face, leaving tearstains on the neatly pressed shirt. Harvey felt moisture, and quickly began stroking Mike's hair. An absurd, smothered giggle issued from his mouth.
"What?"
"You're petting me."
Harvey smirked.
"That's 'cause you're a puppy." Another giggle.
They broke apart and Mike quickly wiped his face dry.
"Let's go home, pup, we'll have to get up early again tomorrow- to do the patent for that new mobile phone app thingy."
Harvey's tone was light-hearted. Mike froze.
"Wait…you're not going to leave?"
Harvey rolled his eyes, chuckled fondly and winked at a thoroughly bewildered Mike. He clasped a strong hand around the end of his tie, and led him out of the room.
Fandom: Suits.
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Lies and slander. Don't own, never will. Sadly.
Summary: Originally written as a piece of homework! Harvey's in a foul mood, and Mike's about to find out why.
"Michael, get to the office. Now."
Before the young man had a chance to answer, the phone line went dead. He cursed inwardly, heaving himself off the tattered mocha sofa, brushing the remnants of the three hours sleep he'd had from his eyes. His feet hit piles of folders and papers he'd been working on through the night; half the briefs hadn't even been read, let alone finished. Harvey was going to kill him.
He checked the time on his phone. 4.00am. There was not (so far as Mike knew) a million-dollar deal going on, or an important deal of any kind- so why was he up so early? Harvey was the 'Devil Wears Prada' type of boss, but 4am- that was just too early, even for him.
His mind raced back to the 'phone call' he'd received a few seconds back, and something hit him.
Michael. Not 'Mike'. Michael. He'd been called a number of things by his boss in the past; 'Kid', 'Tinkerbelle', and even 'Britney' when he'd got drunk at the Christmas party, stood up on the table and belted 'Hit Me Baby, One More Time.'
Bur never Michael.
Once he was through the immaculately polished glass doors of the firm, Harvey was onto him like a bloodhound.
"It's 4.20. When I ask for you at 4.00, I mean 4.00, you lazy, ignorant-child." Mike was hounded all the way up the elevator; the briefs, the papers, the patents- they were all wrong. And so was Harvey. Yes, he was generally pernicious and vindictive-that wasn't what was bothering Mike. It was the fact that his threats sounded genuine and forceful, instead of Harvey just trying to make him reach a little higher and work a little harder. It was also his eyes. The deep, chocolate wells that normally sparkled with the thrill of a new deal, were dull and lifeless, as if he had stopped…caring. Mike was about to ask what was wrong, but before a single syllable left his mouth, Harvey stormed out of the elevator, leaving clouds of anger and confusion spiraling in Mike's mind.
From then on, the taunts and rants got exponentially worse. Every five minutes, Harvey left his office and came over to 'check-up' on what he was doing; and each time, something was wrong. First it was Mike's crooked tie:
"God, are you even unable to dress yourself? Tinker, that's low, even for you." Each rant was stingingly vicious, and so loud, that by his lunch-break, Mike found he was unable to look his colleagues in the eye. When Mike was yelled at in front of the entire board, namely "idiot", "imbecile" and "total and utter cretin", the humility was too much to bear. Mike burst out of the meeting and into the bathroom on the verge of tears, his cheeks burning with shame.
He leant against a sink and pressed his forehead against the mirror, hoping that some of the pent up fury in his mind would be soothed away. His anger was released in the form of tears, which rolled down his cheeks in a continuous stream, and were wiped away furiously. This bout of sobbing was so violent, that he had to place his hand on either side of the sink in order to compose himself.
"What the hell was that?"
The sound of his boss's voice made Mike jump, swallow hard and clench his fists all in one go. He gritted his teeth, and turned to face him. A rational mind would have said something to try and ameliorate the circumstances, but Mike's mind was warped by passionate anger, and was beyond any point of reason.
"I could ask you the same question."
There was not the slightest hint of remorse in those dark eyes that belonged to the figure in monochrome. They had turned from deep brown to crow black, like small dark pebbles reflecting a steely glare.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're a jerk, you know that?" Mike's voice was quivering with rage. His heart was pounding in his chest, his veins throbbed, his nails dug into the palms of hands; but he couldn't feel the pain- his entire being was focused on something else: expelling his mind of the feelings he had kept bottled up the entire day.
But it was Harvey's glare that kept Mike from an outburst of anger; his eyes were pinning him to the ground, staring into his soul and daring him to speak.
Suddenly the hatred ebbed away, and instead of giving a vicious tongue-lashing, Mike crumpled under his boss's gaze. He felt helpless and tormented, and now his mind wanted nothing more than some answers. With fresh tears forming in his eyes, he stared at Harvey, and with the ingenuousness and confusion of a young child he asked,
"Why do you hate me?"
Harvey's eyes widened, the dark stones became large brown saucers; his face flushed with guilt, and his sharp facial features adopted a deeply wounded expression. There was a pause as he stared down at the floor; a sign of insecurity that Mike had never seen him display. When Harvey looked up, he spoke; the voice was tight with the strain of a thousand held back tears.
It was the voice of a man Mike didn't know existed.
"It's my last day today. I'm quitting the firm- another company requires my services abroad."
Harvey cleared his throat and continued; his breathing uneven and the volume of his voice was extensively diminished. He readied himself for the inevitable purge of emotion; emotions that he had felt ever since he had first laid eyes on his associate.
"And every time I see you…"
He drew a sharp intake of breath; clenched his fingers while his mind said:
"Now. Tell him. It's time."
"…I realise what I'm going to miss."
His mind filled with just those images: Mike arriving late and sleepy with mussed up fair hair, falling delicately into those light grey irises. Mike highlighting pages frantically, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his pale forehead, a look of worry and utter concentration on his soft features. Mike catching a little snooze, when he thought Harvey couldn't see him; his chest rising and falling gently with even breaths.
Mike.
Mike, who was currently in front of him, deep pink lips slightly parted, mind in a daze- silver eyes staring at something and nothing all at once.
Harvey took advantage of his employee's doll-like trance and placed his lips on his; the kiss was slow yet urgent, trying to soften the loss and pain they would both eventually feel as a result of this cruel love. Harvey's stubble seemed hardly noticeable; but when it grazed against Mike's cheek, he thought his nerve endings were on fire. Mike pressed himself into the soft folds of Harvey's shirt, inhaled expensive cologne and natural musk, trying to take in as much of Harvey as he could. He murmured, more to himself than to Harvey, voice muffled by cloth;
"Please don't leave."
Harvey didn't reply, just held his beloved. Silent tears poured down Mike's face, leaving tearstains on the neatly pressed shirt. Harvey felt moisture, and quickly began stroking Mike's hair. An absurd, smothered giggle issued from his mouth.
"What?"
"You're petting me."
Harvey smirked.
"That's 'cause you're a puppy." Another giggle.
They broke apart and Mike quickly wiped his face dry.
"Let's go home, pup, we'll have to get up early again tomorrow- to do the patent for that new mobile phone app thingy."
Harvey's tone was light-hearted. Mike froze.
"Wait…you're not going to leave?"
Harvey rolled his eyes, chuckled fondly and winked at a thoroughly bewildered Mike. He clasped a strong hand around the end of his tie, and led him out of the room.