something inevitable (1/2)
Title: something inevitable
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked. But he can't do it. He would be betraying Jessica - she’s done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her. So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear." [AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike in the pilot episode.]
Authors Notes: Ever since I started writing Harvey/Mike fics I wanted to write an AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike, but could never really figure out the story. And when I eventually started writing this I got about 4000 words in and hated it. I liked the idea of it, but the execution was just really terrible. When I mentioned this on tumblr, debating whether to just throw it out or keep going, everyone was really supportive, encouraging me to keep writing. So I did something I've never done before - I started the fic again from scratch, and it was ten times better the second time around.
So a big thanks to all my tumblr peeps who encouraged me to keep going (because I probably would have abandoned this fic if it weren't for you guys), and most especially to my dear smartalli - who looked at my original draft and was a great sounding board and cheerleader and beta. You are my queen of contractions and I love you and am so very thankful for you.
(Also, LJ sucks and won't let me post this on one entry, so the fic is actually a one shot posted in two entries :O( )
something inevitable
"Look, this is all pretty fascinating stuff but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work. I'll make sure that Serpico isn't around waiting for you."
Harvey crosses the room and opens the door, peeks around the corner and is greeted with the sight of a room full of Harvard educated lawyers (who all automatically straighten and preen when they notice Harvey looking at them). There are no cops, the coast is clear, and yet looking back to Mike he doesn't want to send him away. Those generic douches waiting for him are probably going to be ten times less interesting or capable than the pot-dealing dropout currently sitting forlornly at his desk.
He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked.
But he can't do it. There are bigger things at play here. He would be risking his whole career. He would be betraying Jessica. She's done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her.
So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear."
Mike nods, picks up his briefcase (full of pot, Harvey thinks, and seriously, the kid really should be too smart for this) and crosses the room. They linger together in the doorway, each oddly reluctant to let this moment end. And though they don't know it yet, they both have the same reasons for feeling that way.
Harvey should just let him go, but instead he finds himself pulling a business card from his suit jacket pocket and, even more incredibly, scribbling his personal cell number on the back before handing it over.
"Here. If you continue being this terrible at your current career choice you'll probably need a lawyer at some point. Call me if you need anything."
"Disregarding the fact that you're a corporate and not a criminal lawyer, I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford you," Mike says, and there it is, that spark that Harvey saw the moment they met.
"Well, my boss is always telling me to do more pro bono work," Harvey smiles. He holds out a hand, which Mike shakes. "Good luck, Mike."
"You too, Harvey," Mike replies, and he walks out the door without looking back.
Mike sits on his couch, the briefcase of pot open on the coffee table in front of him, Harvey's business card resting atop the bags of weed.
Fuck, that was close, Mike thinks.
The thought has two meanings. The most obvious is that he nearly got caught. Why did he let Trevor get him into these situations? He knew better. Hell, he told Trevor the stats on death via drug deals versus death row. He had his eyes wide open and he still did it anyway. And he was nearly arrested for his trouble. Awesome.
And then there was the other meaning. It was stupid, but just for a moment he thought he had Harvey convinced. That maybe he could finally get out of this … whatever his life has become. It was like he was presented with the exact opportunity he didn't know he wanted, only not only did he not get it, now he knows what it is that he wants but can't have.
Denial is easier. It's easier to just pretend that he's okay, that he's over getting kicked out of school and getting knocked into a different life. But he isn't. Spending that time with Harvey, however brief it was, made him realize how much he craved something better, something more than this life he has made for himself. Harvey challenged him, and he felt the fire within flicker, felt that indescribable something that happens when you go toe to toe with someone who is a worthy challenge.
And now that he has realized that, acknowledged and accepted that he wants something more, he can't go back to pretending like he doesn't care. He can't.
His cell phone rings, and looking at the caller ID he can see that it's Trevor. He hits the ignore button. Fucking Trevor.
If Harvey thought hiring Mike and running the risk of anyone finding out that he had hired someone with no law degree was bad, it was nothing compared to hiring a completely idiotic (though admittedly qualified) lawyer who Harvey wants to strangle on an hourly basis. Seriously, the guy was infuriating.
"So what's happening with the case?" Harvey asks his new associate.
"She gave me a full account of what happened. But there's no way to prove her assertions that Hunt did what he did," Rick Sorkin tells him.
"Yeah, that's kind of the point of being a lawyer. Finding the proof," Harvey says, turning his head away so his subordinate can't see his eye roll.
"And how do we do that? There's no physical evidence. They did an in-house investigation which turned up nothing. How do we look for something that isn't there?"
And this time Harvey does let him see the eye roll. "There is always something there. Look, this is what the job is. Follow the leads, track down evidence, build your case. Think about it - if he's done this once, he's probably done it before. So subpoena the records of all the former female employees who worked directly under Hunt. Maybe one of them will talk."
Rick nods. "Okay, got it. Thank you, Mister Specter."
Harvey watches him walk back to his cubicle and has to actively suppress the need to throw something. He never should've hired Rick. He only did it because he was the last interview of the day (he showed up ten minutes late for his appointment, the appointment which Mike stole, but waited in the waiting area all afternoon in the hopes he could still get in to be interviewed, so Harvey had to give him points for tenacity if nothing else) and he was so bored by the seemingly never ending stream of Harvard clones answering his questions with stock standard answers that the mere thought of enduring another day of the same torture was horrifying. So he hired Rick to just get the whole thing over with.
And of course a decision based on that criterion was bound to fail. Rick has no instinct, no drive. How he even graduated Harvard Harvey can't work out. It didn't seem like he really wanted this. Not like Mike did. (Okay, that was probably unfair. Rick did want this. He just didn't want to work for it.)
Seriously, he needs to stop thinking about that stupid kid and his wasted potential. There were millions of people out there in worse circumstances than they probably deserve. He doesn't care or even think about any of them. So why can't he stop thinking about the apparent genius who couldn't make it through one year of college without doing something irrevocably stupid?
It's for the best. Hiring Mike would have been a mistake. He would've done something stupid and exposed Harvey and then where would he be? Best to just forget the whole thing and deal with all the current problems in his life. Like his new idiot associate.
Mike goes to visit Grammy. He tells her that he doesn't have the money for her new place but that he'll figure it out (and all the while his brain is picturing the briefcase of pot hidden in the oven at home). Grammy, who has always been the sharpest and most clever person Mike has ever met, gets that look in her eyes, the one he's seen far too often, that says she knows he is up to no good.
"Michael, I want you to listen to me. I know you don't have that kind of money. And whatever you are thinking of doing to get it, I want you to promise me that you won't."
"I wasn't-" Mike starts to object, but of course she won't let him get away with that.
"Yes, you were. And I don't want you doing something stupid just for me. It's not your job to look after me. I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to look after you first. So whatever you were planning on doing, don't. Promise me."
"I promise," Mike says, his half formed ideas about finding someone to buy Trevor's pot dissolving before his eyes.
When he leaves her nursing home, he doesn't know what to do or where to go. The midday sun beats down on his skin as he starts the long walk home. His phone rings and it's Trevor calling. He hates Trevor more in this moment than he has ever hated anyone in his whole life, and when he picks up the phone he says, "You sent me into a drug bust, Trevor. What makes you think I could possibly want to talk to you right now?"
"Look, Mike, I'm sorry, okay. I didn't know."
"Of course not," Mike replies blithely. "I get screwed over because you don't know the whole story. Gee, where have I heard that before?"
"It's true. Once I found out what was happening they pulled a gun and kept me there."
Jesus, is Trevor really expecting sympathy from him? "I don't care, Trevor. You sent me into a drugs bust. That is not okay."
"Look, Mike, you know I didn't mean for that to happen. But I need the drugs back."
Mike laughs then, because of course, of course Trevor cares more about his stash than their friendship. Trevor has always found things to prioritize over Mike, and he doesn't know how he is only just realizing that. And fuck Trevor for never putting him first, for never caring about their friendship as much as Mike does. "It's gone," Mike lies, and it feels better than it should, finally making Trevor hurt for once. "I got rid of it when I saw the cops."
"Fuck, Mike," Trevor groans. But Mike doesn't want to hear it. He hangs up before Trevor can get another word in and just keeps walking.
He walks for hours, but he doesn't know what to do. He can't leave Grammy like this. She raised him, looked after him, and deserves so much more. But he doesn't know how to fix this. He won't break his promise, but he has no other means of getting the money for her.
He doesn't know why, but just for a moment he's tempted to call Harvey. Which is ridiculous, because they aren't friends, are barely even acquaintances, and there is no way Harvey could help with this.
He pushes the impulse aside, just keeps walking.
Harvey leaves Pearson Hardman and decides for once to walk home.
It's been a long fucking day, and losing himself in the crowded city streets feels pretty good right about now. Despite it being just past nightfall on a Tuesday night the noises of the city bubble around him. It's a comforting cocoon, and he can lose himself, just forget all his problems and become one of the masses.
And then because fate (or New York) is a fickle mistress, who does he happen to (literally) bump into but one Mike Ross.
"Mike," Harvey says when Mike automatically murmurs an apology and tries to keep walking.
"Harvey?" Mike replies, looking at him now, completely surprised.
Harvey runs his eyes along the length of Mike's body. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, looking a good five years younger than he looked in his suit, but Harvey also can't deny he looks better this way, more real. And yet, "You look like shit."
Mike laughs, a little ruefully for Harvey's liking. "Thanks, Harvey, appreciate that."
"What's going on?" Harvey asks, like they are two old friends bumping into each other instead of what they actually are: two strangers who have spent a grand total of twenty minutes in each other's company. And yet, somehow, it feels more like the old friends scenario.
"Long day," Mike replies, rather cryptically.
"Tell me about it," Harvey agrees.
"Why, what's wrong with you?"
"Long week," Harvey replies, just to get one up on Mike, and Mike smiles, like instead of being annoyed or offended he is nothing but charmed by this facet of Harvey's personality. "Come on," Harvey says. "Wanna grab some food? You can tell me all about your long day."
"Only if you tell me about your long week," Mike says, but he falls into step beside Harvey as they head to a nearby restaurant, and Harvey finds himself agreeing easily.
"You hired the guy I was pretending to be?" Mike asks, incredulous.
Harvey nods. "Yup."
"What's he like?"
"Well, he graduated in the top ten of his class. Average height, average build, average personality."
"You don't like him," Mike observes, because Harvey looks so completely bored by this topic and he figures there is some other story here.
"Oh, did I not mention he's also a fucking idiot who acts like he couldn't find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight?"
"The American President? Really?"
And Harvey grins at him, like he has just passed some test he didn't even know he was taking. He finds himself returning the gesture, and it's like something in him settles. It's actually kinda scary, how calm he feels in Harvey's presence. Because he's still a loser who got kicked out of school and doesn't have a steady job and can't afford to take care of his only living relative (while Harvey is obviously successful and rich and probably has squillions to spare, and they so do not belong in each other's world), but being here with Harvey, he doesn't feel any of that. He feels like the best version of himself, like the man he actually wants to be: worthy, honest, unbroken.
But those feelings are too scary to dwell on, so he says, "Well, you know, you have no one to blame but yourself. You could've had me and my awesome brain but you passed, remember."
He means it in a joking way, the urge to tease Harvey overwhelming (even though he tries not to think too hard on that, because it's ridiculous - they barely even know each other, and shouldn't like each other, and really, what are they even doing here…).
"Don't remind me," Harvey says darkly.
Harvey's cell rings, saving Mike from having to reply. And thank fuck for that, because what was he supposed to say? Harvey basically just admitted to regretting not hiring him. And if he spoke, he might do something stupid, like beg for him to reconsider and fire Rick and hire him. And that would just be embarrassing for both of them.
Harvey murmurs an apology as he digs the phone out of his pocket and answers.
"What is it, Rick? … I'm busy … No … Of course they did, they're not going to make it easy for you … I don't care if you have to look through every book in the library, find a precedent and get it done."
Harvey hangs up the phone. Mike doesn't even pretend like he wasn't listening in to the conversation. "So, what did he do this time?"
"More like what he didn't do."
"Tell me about the case," Mike says, even though he expects Harvey not to.
But he does. "Well, I can't say too much obviously, but basically it's a sexual harassment suit. We're trying to get access to the CEO's company's files because we figure-"
"If he's done it once, then he's done it before," Mike supplies, getting a pleased smile from Harvey.
"Exactly. And if so, there would be proof of that. But they won't hand them over. They claim we're invading their employee's right to privacy. But there is something in there; we just have to figure out how to get to it."
"Hmmm…" Mike says, thinking the problem over. "Did they do an in-house investigation?"
"Yes," Harvey replies, sounding the word slowly, like he's trying to catch up to Mike's train of thought.
"Whoever did the investigation would have worked for the CEO. How can they thoroughly investigate something when they are looking into their own boss? No one is going to properly investigate their own CEO when they work for him too."
Harvey just stares at him. Mike doesn't know what's going on in that head of his, but he looks stunned and impressed and hungry all at once. But he won't be the one to look away first. He returns the gaze, a small smile pulling at his mouth, his heart beating hard in his chest.
Harvey has never wanted anyone the way he wants Mike in this moment.
He can't describe it. His mind is amazing, a force to be admired and feared in equal measure. The way he can challenge and help Harvey. And then there is the fact that they barely know each other, but the two times they have met Mike has impressed him, made him want to help Mike out in return.
And yes, Harvey regrets not hiring Mike now. How could he not? Mike has just proved once again that he is better than the lawyer he was impersonating. And regret is not something Harvey experiences too often. He resolves to do something for Mike, give him a helping hand, give him something in penitence for not hiring him like he should have.
After their waiter clears their empty plates Harvey leans forward and says, "So, tell me, how does someone with a mind as amazing as yours end up dealing drugs for a living?" Because, let's face it, if Harvey wants to find some way to help Mike out, asking about the drug dealing thing will probably clue him in pretty damn quick.
Mike looks offended by Harvey's question. But Harvey won't take it back. He's genuinely curious. This kid (okay, he's not really a kid, Harvey should probably stop using that word, even if it's just in his own mind) has the most untapped potential of anyone he has ever met and he wants to know how he could waste such a talent and still live with himself.
"I don't," Mike replies, almost defiant. "It was a one-time thing."
"Because you almost got caught?"
"No. And I didn't almost get caught. Remember me being smart enough to figure out they were cops because of a book I read in elementary school…?"
And Harvey can't help but laugh at that. Because he has a point. He used that brain of his to realize he was walking into a bad situation (based solely on a book he read twenty years previous), and not many people would've had the balls or brains to get out of that situation like he did. "Fair enough," Harvey says, raising his glass in salute before taking a sip.
"My friend, Trevor," (Harvey fights the impulse to groan at the name - he's never met Mike's so called best friend and he already hates him) "he's been trying to get me to help out for a while now. I was desperate for the cash, so I agreed. And after finding out he sent me in to get busted, sufficed to say I won't be dealing drugs anytime soon."
"What do you need the money for?" Harvey asks. There is something about the way Mike talks about it that makes him think it's not just for rent or expenses or something stupid. He didn't mention it in the interview, only saying he needed twenty five grand urgently and Trevor agreed to pay it.
Mike sits back in the booth, seems to consider him. Harvey remains unflinching under Mike's heavy gaze, tries to let him know that he can tell him anything. It's not quite his lawyer face, but it's close. It's his 'I actually care and you can tell me anything' face. He doesn't use it often. In fact, he can't remember the last time he felt so compelled to actively care about someone he didn't have to. And he doesn't know why it's happening now either, but it is, and he can't deny that.
"My Grammy. She's sick. She's in a nursing home but she needs better care. If I can't come up with the cash to put her into a private facility they're going to put her in a state home."
Mike takes a deep breath, like saying it out loud has made it real. He fidgets with his glass of water, avoids Harvey's gaze.
"I'm sorry," Harvey says, the words feeling idiotic on his tongue. Because for once, words have failed him. He didn't know what else to say. This moment feels too heavy, too real, and it's terrifying.
When it becomes clear Mike isn't going to respond, Harvey murmurs a "Hey," to get his attention, forcing Mike's eyes to his. "Wanna get out of here?"
The words slip from Harvey's mouth without proper forethought and fuck did he really just come on to this guy he barely knows who is probably straight and fuck he just wants to take it all back.
But then Mike smiles, and says, "Sure."
"Nice place," Mike says, and his feet carry him over to the windows. They are large, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and the city sparkles below him. It's beautiful.
"Thanks. I like it," Harvey says, handing Mike a drink as he comes to stand beside him.
"How long have you lived here?"
"Um, about three or four years."
Mike takes a sip of his drink, looks around the room a bit more. It's the kind of place that looks a little too pristine for Mike's taste, like it was more concerned about how it looked rather than how comfortable it was. Mike couldn't help but compare it to his own apartment. Harvey's condo is so completely different - the kind of place he'd never choose for himself. And yet, he still likes it.
"It's amazing. It suits you. I can just picture you up here, looking down on the world below. Like you're just slightly apart from the city, looking down at everyone but not really looking down on them, arrogant and endearing all at once."
Mike realizes he has let his mouth run away with him when Harvey doesn't immediately respond. He replays the words in his head and groans internally. Why does he always have to keep talking? Why can he never just smile and nod like a normal person??
He slowly looks up to Harvey, fully expecting Harvey to be laughing at him or some other completely legitimate reaction. Instead Harvey just stares at him, looking at Mike like he doesn't know if he is a complete stranger or the only person in the world who truly knows him.
"There's something about you," Harvey says, eyes still fixed on him, a puzzle Harvey is trying to solve.
"Yeah?" Mike murmurs, voice low and rough. "And what's that?"
Instead of answering Harvey closes the space between them and kisses him. Mike would be lying if he said he expected this, but there is something about the way their mouths move together, practiced and perfect, and despite not anticipating this he can't help but think that there was something inevitable about it anyway.
Harvey leads Mike across the condo to his bedroom, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. As soon as they enter the four walls Mike's mouth is on his, his hands on his clothes, apparently doing his level best to get them off his body as soon as humanly possible. He's a frenzied mass in Harvey's arms, warm and desperate and Harvey can't help but reciprocate, peeling Mike's tee and jeans off like they have personally offended him.
They stand at the foot of Harvey's bed, Mike's hand down his pants. Harvey thrusts into the touch. Mike mouths at his chest, moans like he wants more.
And then, as if Harvey's very thought has spurred him into action, Mike sinks to his knees, pulls down Harvey's pants in haste and before Harvey has time to register what is happening, Mike engulfs him. Harvey lets out a choked sob as Mike sucks him down, fingers pressing into Harvey's thighs as he bobs up and down. He looks up, keeps his eyes locked on Harvey the whole time. Harvey tries to not thrust into his mouth, instead runs a hand through Mike's messy hair.
"Mike," Harvey says, pulling on his hair.
Mike gets the message. He slowly pulls off Harvey's cock, stands and kisses Harvey. It's dirty and frantic. His hands settle on his hips, brings Mike's body crashing into his. They rut against each other.
"Oh fuck. Harvey. Fuck me," Mike murmurs between kisses. "Please," he adds, almost like an afterthought, and Harvey groans.
He pushes his hips even closer, their cocks sliding together tantalizingly. Harvey knows somewhere deep in his soul that this man will absolutely ruin him. But he doesn't fucking care. Because he wants this even more, is desperate to push into Mike and come inside him, impatient in way he's never been with anyone else.
He eventually breaks away, pushes Mike onto the bed. Mike grins up at him, more than happy at this turn of events. He rolls onto his stomach, spreads his legs, and Harvey, already painfully hard, feels like he could come just from the sight before him.
He kneels in the space between Mike's legs, runs a fingertip along the length of his crack. Mike groans and writhes beneath him. Harvey reaches over to his bedside table and grabs the lube and a condom. He runs a tongue along the spine of Mike's back, lingers in the dip at the small of his back, hand gently kneading the flesh of his ass.
He gets the condom on and his fingers lubed in record time, but even that quick break in contact seems too long to Mike, the younger man begging with a never-ending litany of, "Come on, Harvey. Fuck. Do it. Now…" as he rubs himself into the bed sheets, clearly desperate for friction.
Harvey gently presses a finger in, the action finally silencing Mike. He moves in and out, working him open as quickly as he can. They are both desperate now, Harvey wrapping a hand around himself as he quickly adds another finger.
But Harvey can't hold out. He has had more than his fair share of people in this bed, both genders enjoying the privilege, and yet he's never felt this desperate for anyone before. He positions himself along the length of Mike's body and slowly presses his cock in. Mike swears, pushing back to hasten the action.
It's fucking amazing. Harvey pumps into Mike, quick and hard. Mike moans and gasps beneath him. Harvey wraps his arms around Mike's torso and maneuvers them both up onto their knees and Mike reaches out and wraps a hand behind them, rests it on the back of Harvey's neck. The other goes to his own cock and he starts pumping.
"Mike," Harvey murmurs, kissing his neck. He keeps moving, always moving, worries the skin of Mike's neck with his teeth.
"Oh fuck," Mike whimpers, before he twists his head and captures Harvey's mouth with his own. He thrusts his tongue into Harvey's mouth, moans as they move, only breaks their kiss to cry out as he comes, spilling onto Harvey's sheets.
Harvey, hands still on Mike's torso, presses Mike back harder against his chest, pushes his cock in deep and slow, comes with Mike's name on his lips before they collapse in a heap onto the bed.
Mike wakes unsure where he is. Not a pleasant experience really. He looks around the room - it's vaguely familiar. And then he sees the man lying in the bed beside him.
Harvey.
Mike can't help but smile as he looks down at Harvey. He didn't expect this. How did he go from agreeing against his better judgment to deal drugs for Trevor to almost but not quite tricking one of the city's best lawyers into hiring him to sleeping with said lawyer? How the fuck is this his life?
And the weird part was that he actually liked Harvey. Which is kinda ridiculous, because Harvey is so not his type. Okay, yeah, the guy was hot. Like, really fucking hot. But more than that, he intrigued him, engaged him. Mike couldn't remember the last time he ever felt intellectually connected to someone like this. Harvey is someone who could keep up with him, keep him interested, challenge him in ways no one in his life does. Because, as much as he loves Grammy and Jenny and, yes, even Trevor, none of them really satisfy that part of him. Granted, he thought that part of him was long dormant, but Harvey had reawakened it, that need to be respected and tested and the want to engage with the world at large. He was sick of slumming it, and Harvey helped him realize that.
He slides over, rests a hand lightly on Harvey's stomach. He presses a mouth to his chest, moves across the expanse of skin, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses behind. Harvey starts to stir, so Mike shifts his whole body so he lies atop the older man, swirls a tongue around his nipple.
"Mmmm…" Harvey moans, eyes finally fluttering open. "Morning."
"Good morning," Mike says, leaning up and kissing him.
Harvey is instantly onboard, deepening the kiss. Mike aligns their bodies, his hard cock pressing into Harvey's, his movements slow and rhythmic. Harvey wraps his arms around him, shifts his body to counter the movements Mike makes, and together they create a delicious friction. Harvey throws a leg over Mike's hip, presses them closer.
Mike nibbles on the stubbled skin of Harvey's neck and hears the older man whisper, "You feel fucking incredible."
Mike's answer is to press in that much harder. It doesn't take long for them both to come, and Mike can't believe how much he wants this. Harvey's arms are warm and real around him and they are slick and sticky and a few days ago he didn't even know Harvey and now it feels like they've known each other all their lives.
Mike presses his lips to Harvey's in a gentle kiss before rolling off him. He glances at the bedside table and notices it's already eight am. Fuck, when did that happen? "I should go," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a wad of tissues from the bedside table to clean himself with.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Harvey asks, sitting up in the bed but making no move to go anywhere himself.
"No, but you do," Mike says, starting to dress. "You'll be late for work if you don't leave soon. And I still have to find a job and figure out how to find twenty five grand in a completely legal way. So, you know, just a usual day really."
"Can I call you?" Harvey asks, and Mike, who has just put his shoes on, smiles at him.
"Of course." He spots a Sharpie on the bedside table so he crosses the room and picks it up, ignoring the notepad lying right beside it and instead grabbing Harvey's arm and writing his cell number on Harvey's forearm. Harvey watches with an amused expression and when Mike is done he leans down and briefly kisses him before turning and walking out the door.
Given the circumstances Harvey doesn't think he has any right to feel this happy.
Because Jessica has figured out that he palmed off the case and Rick is still an idiot and has done none of the heavy lifting on said case (when he points this out to Jessica her reply is: "Semantics"), and even though he won in court and the judge agreed that they could see the files, they sent over an entire rooms worth of boxes. So instead of taking Mike out for dinner (or taking him to bed, whichever happened first) Harvey is stuck with Rick in a tiny conference room, going over a million files.
But feel happy he does, because when he shucks off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before diving into the next box and pulling out a load of files, he sees the pale shadow of Mike's phone number against the smooth plane of his skin.
Harvey can't help but smile. He didn't anticipate this. Mike was unexpected in every way. He crashed into Harvey's interview on bravado alone and when he was caught out they somehow ended up having a casual conversation about dealing drugs like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, to run into him mere days later in a city of millions, to take a chance and connect with him on every level…
Not hiring Mike was a mistake. Harvey knows that now. Maybe they could've passed Mike off as a lawyer. Maybe Harvey could've hired him as his legal assistant and got him to do all the background and legwork, keeping everything above board. Looking at Rick slowly go through the mountain of paperwork he misses Mike's quick thinking and creative mind. Which is ridiculous, because they've spent but a few hours together and you can't miss something that you never had and yet Harvey can't help but feel that he has made a huge mistake, let an amazing opportunity pass just because of the risks it posed to him.
And Mike, as much as he wanted the opportunity to work with Harvey, his main motivation had not been himself but his grandmother. Mike hadn't told him the whole story, but Harvey got the sense that she had gone above and beyond the typical grandmother duties and Mike was trying to pay her back.
Maybe it was better Mike hadn't come to work with him. That level of love and devotion was unheard of in his field, and would soon be quashed out of anyone stepping into the four walls of Pearson Hardman.
Harvey leaves Rick to continue sorting through the files while he takes a break, heads outside for some fresh air. The night air is still balmy and he can't help but stare at his arm, even going so far as to idly trace his fingertips over the black numbers.
It hits him again, just like it did during the interview, just like when they were eating together, that need deep in his chest to help Mike. It's instinctual. He questions where this sudden desire has come from, why it's Mike above all others that he wants to be with, to help and protect. But he can't come up with an answer.
Instead he pulls out his cell and dials. "Vanessa, I have a job for you. I need to find out which nursing home the grandmother of one Michael Ross is currently living in…"
The worst part about having a brain like his is that it never stops. From the moment Mike wakes to the moment he sleeps it runs nonstop. Which means, on days like today, if Mike isn't thinking about Harvey he is thinking about the pot hidden in his oven or the bills he can't pay for Grammy or wondering what the fuck he is going to do now.
He needs a plan. Something to focus on, something to pursue and keep him occupied, something to keep him on course. Because the temptation to smoke up and just forget everything is so strong, but he wants more than that now. Living life from day to day, scraping by however he can, it's no longer enough.
So the plan he comes up with is this. One: get a job. Two: speak to the nursing home and do whatever it takes to convince them to let him pay off the money in installments. Three: call Harvey and go celebrate his win with him.
Mike nods to himself. Sounds like an awesome plan. (And he ignores the little voice niggling at the corner of his mind saying wow that is the most overly simplistic plan I have ever heard and you know it's not going to be that easy right???)
Finding work in this economy isn't going to be easy, especially since he has no qualifications in anything and most of his work experience hasn't been on this side of legal. The last legitimate job he had was a few years back when he was a bike messenger. Figuring that's as good a place as any to start Mike heads to their dispatch center.
The same manager still works there and, unfortunately, she remembers Mike. They didn't exactly part on the best terms, but Mike is imploring in an honest kind of way, and if for no other reason than she has just had two people quit and they're short staffed, she hires him, starting tomorrow.
Mike is profuse in his gratitude, promises she won't regret it, and then he gets the fuck out of there before she changes her mind. He feels that rush as he leaves, that feeling that comes with being chosen for something, and the knowledge that a steady job might help with his Grammy's care is even better. Granted it's not earning $180k as a lawyer in one of the city's best law firms, but it's honest and legal and for now that's more than enough.
(And really, he needs to get over that. Being a lawyer is a dream of the past. Being with Harvey is as close as he will ever get to living that life.)
On a high, he heads to Grammy's to tell her the news. She lights up when he tells her. He even confesses vague and heretofore unrealized plans of maybe going back to school, studying part time. He knows that Grammy loves him, but in that moment, it's the first time in what feels like forever that he thinks maybe she is proud of him. Because, despite how well he tried to hide it, she's always known his income was supplemented by less than savory occupations. And he knows that she can finally see what was always missing, that spark within, the desire to be responsible and grown up and finally take control over his actions and his life.
He doesn't spoil the warm ambience of the room by confessing that he still doesn't know what to do about her care, that if his half-baked idea doesn't come to fruition he has literally no backup plan and that wrenches at his insides. He figures it's best to cross that bridge when he gets to it.
After hugging her goodbye, Mike goes in search of the best person to speak to about the financial situation. The nurse at the front desk points him to the administrative wing and after waiting in a bland waiting room for nearly half an hour he meets with one of their finance administrators (who looks even younger than he is, and doesn't that just take this meeting to a whole new level of embarrassment).
"Hi, I'm Mike. Mike Ross," Mike says, extending his hand in greeting.
"Anne Russell," she replies, shaking his hand before indicating for him to take a seat. "What can I do for you, Mike?"
"I'm here about one of your residents, Mrs Edith Ross. I'm told she needs an upgrade in care which is going to cost twenty five thousand. I'm here to see if there are any … payment options available or … something…" he trails off lamely, with a shrug as an added plea for help.
Anne nods, sympathetic, but somehow still not giving too much away. Mike supposes he can't have been the first person who couldn't come up with a large amount of money on such short notice. But still, they probably have their own rules they need to adhere to.
"Let's have a look, shall we. You said her name was Edith Ross? And her date of birth?"
"February 22, 1929."
Anne types some things into her computer, and Mike watches anxiously as she types and scrolls and reads. But then a look of confusion comes over her face. She looks to Mike, and then back to her computer, face intent on whatever it is she sees.
"Mike, it says here the payment for her upgrade has already been paid."
Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. He just sits there, trying to process the words. It makes no sense. "There must be a mistake," he tells her.
She shakes her head, looks back at the monitor. "No, there's no mistake. Payment was made in full. This morning in fact."
Confusion and a bizarre sense of dread flood his stomach. "Paid by who?"
"Um, a Mr Harvey Specter."
Harvey has attempted to call Mike four separate times since Mike left his condo yesterday morning. Time has not been on his side, what with the millions of files he and Rick have spent the last two days going through, and every time Harvey gets a minute to himself, he is accosted by someone with something that 'can't wait', and never once does he get the chance to even dial Mike's number.
But they finally figure out who else has been harassed by Hunt and he sends Rick off to talk to her and fuck it, Harvey's officially done for the day.
He doesn't bother attempting to call Mike from the office (because he figures the fifth time won't be the charm), so he packs up and heads downstairs with every intention of calling Mike once he's away from the Pearson Hardman building and maybe asking if he wants to grab a late bite. Only when he gets down to the lobby, Mike is there.
He's sitting on one of the side benches, his knee bobbing up and down in quick succession. He hasn't seen Harvey yet, and the older man can't help but smile at the sight before him. Mike looks so small, sitting there alone, dwarfed by the high ceilings and empty cavernous space of the lobby. He's once again dressed casually, black jeans and a light grey tee, and he looks so completely out of place here and yet somehow that makes him even more endearing.
"Mike," Harvey says when he nears, unable to stop the smile on his face.
Mike turns at the sound of his name, stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waits for Harvey to come to him. Harvey is just so happy to see him (it's only been less than two days but feels like so much more) that without even thinking he leans in and kisses him hello. But Mike doesn't reciprocate, doesn't move, and when Harvey steps back he finally notices how rigid Mike looks, like he is desperately trying to hold everything in.
"What's wrong?" Harvey asks.
"What. The. Fuck. Harvey?" Mike grits out, like the words were so hard to speak he had to take a breath between each word to find the courage to keep going.
"What?" Harvey repeats, now genuinely bewildered.
"You paid for my Grammy's care?"
Oh. That. "Mike-"
"What the hell were you thinking?" Mike demands. His voice is louder than normal, and it echoes in the silent room.
"I just wanted to-"
"I mean, I don't get it. Was this some kind of payment for the other night? Twenty five grand for me taking it up the ass?"
"What? No!" Harvey cries, completely shocked by the mere idea of it. Because the truth was, it wasn't about that. He'd made up his mind to help Mike before they slept together, and it never even occurred to him that Mike could perceive this as some kind of payment for sex.
"Do you know how this makes me feel, Harvey?" Mike says, and his voice is smaller now, deflated. "You show up out of nowhere and ask me to dinner and I think we're connecting, enough to sleep with you, and then I don't hear from you for days even though you said you'd call. But then I find out you essentially paid me twenty five grand. I mean, do you get it? How fucking used and stupid I feel."
"Mike-"
"I should've seen this coming," Mike continues, and it's like he's not even talking to Harvey anymore. Harvey's heart breaks as Mike steps back from him, like he is so offended by Harvey's mere presence. And this wasn't what Harvey wanted. He wanted to help, to build Mike up, only now it feels like whatever they have is crumbling into ruins around them. "First Trevor fucking sells me out, and then I meet you. And for some unknown reason I feel instinctively drawn to you, and I think 'here is a guy who is apparently smart and principled and maybe for the first time I've met someone who won't treat me like shit'. Well, I suppose it's my own stupid fault for thinking that maybe you could be different."
And then Mike turns and walks away, running a hand through his shaggy hair, and at first Harvey is too shocked to even move, can't wrap his brain around what has just happened. He watches Mike walk away and the thought comes crashing into his mind: this can't be the end.
So he hurries after Mike, calls his name. Mike ignores him, makes it out into the courtyard before Harvey catches up. He hustles around Mike, steps in front of him and blocks his path. When Mike tries to sidestep him, Harvey reaches out, puts a hand to his bare arm, and it's like with that one touch all of Mike's will is sapped from his body. He physically deflates before Harvey, doesn't try and pull out of his grasp, doesn't try to walk away.
"I'm sorry," Harvey says, with more sincerity than he has ever used before when saying those two little words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Mike. You have to believe me; never once did it even occur to me that you might think that was the reason I paid that money. Because it wasn't. I swear."
Mike slowly looks up and meets his gaze. He doesn't look convinced, still looks angry, but there is something there. Something like hope. "Why then?" he asks, voice small.
"Because I wanted to help you. That's it. No ulterior motive, no secret hopes for you to repay via various sexual acts. Just the blinding need to, for once, think about someone other than myself. Because you were right, Mike. You were so fucking right. I should have hired you. And despite all my experience and Rick's Harvard degree you were the one who figured out how to break this case. So consider it payment for legal consultation, consider it a thank you, consider it a gift, but just don't ever think there is something underhanded about it."
Harvey feels the breath go from his body, physically exhausted by his proclamation. But he won't take it back, because every single word is true.
How the fuck did this become his life? This wasn't him. He didn't get emotionally invested. He didn't chase people down and apologize. He didn't care what people thought of him. And yet, it's like, with Mike none of that applies. But what's most surprising is the purity with which he wants Mike. He doesn't care about Mike's past, only his future. He wants to help Mike for Mike himself, because he deserves it. He wants to be with Mike, but respects Mike's option to not want to be with him in return.
And it's so ridiculous, because they barely know anything about each other. But Harvey can't fight the feeling that that doesn't matter. That this is just who they are, connected, meant to be part of each other's lives in one way or another.
But all that could be lost now. He just really fucking hopes it's not.
[Continue to part two]
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked. But he can't do it. He would be betraying Jessica - she’s done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her. So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear." [AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike in the pilot episode.]
Authors Notes: Ever since I started writing Harvey/Mike fics I wanted to write an AU in which Harvey doesn't hire Mike, but could never really figure out the story. And when I eventually started writing this I got about 4000 words in and hated it. I liked the idea of it, but the execution was just really terrible. When I mentioned this on tumblr, debating whether to just throw it out or keep going, everyone was really supportive, encouraging me to keep writing. So I did something I've never done before - I started the fic again from scratch, and it was ten times better the second time around.
So a big thanks to all my tumblr peeps who encouraged me to keep going (because I probably would have abandoned this fic if it weren't for you guys), and most especially to my dear smartalli - who looked at my original draft and was a great sounding board and cheerleader and beta. You are my queen of contractions and I love you and am so very thankful for you.
(Also, LJ sucks and won't let me post this on one entry, so the fic is actually a one shot posted in two entries :O( )
something inevitable
"Look, this is all pretty fascinating stuff but I'm afraid I've got to get back to work. I'll make sure that Serpico isn't around waiting for you."
Harvey crosses the room and opens the door, peeks around the corner and is greeted with the sight of a room full of Harvard educated lawyers (who all automatically straighten and preen when they notice Harvey looking at them). There are no cops, the coast is clear, and yet looking back to Mike he doesn't want to send him away. Those generic douches waiting for him are probably going to be ten times less interesting or capable than the pot-dealing dropout currently sitting forlornly at his desk.
He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Because he has known Mike for a grand total of twenty minutes and already knows that Mike would work hard, could excel if given the chance. And more than that, he likes this kid, his bravado and cheek, the way he can give back as good as he gets. And Harvey only expected to find someone he could tolerate; he never anticipated finding someone he actually liked.
But he can't do it. There are bigger things at play here. He would be risking his whole career. He would be betraying Jessica. She's done so much for him, more than he could ever enumerate, and hiring someone with no degree is not a fine way to repay her.
So as much as he wants to go back, to say, "You're hired, you start on Monday," he can't. He won't. Instead he says, "The coast is clear."
Mike nods, picks up his briefcase (full of pot, Harvey thinks, and seriously, the kid really should be too smart for this) and crosses the room. They linger together in the doorway, each oddly reluctant to let this moment end. And though they don't know it yet, they both have the same reasons for feeling that way.
Harvey should just let him go, but instead he finds himself pulling a business card from his suit jacket pocket and, even more incredibly, scribbling his personal cell number on the back before handing it over.
"Here. If you continue being this terrible at your current career choice you'll probably need a lawyer at some point. Call me if you need anything."
"Disregarding the fact that you're a corporate and not a criminal lawyer, I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford you," Mike says, and there it is, that spark that Harvey saw the moment they met.
"Well, my boss is always telling me to do more pro bono work," Harvey smiles. He holds out a hand, which Mike shakes. "Good luck, Mike."
"You too, Harvey," Mike replies, and he walks out the door without looking back.
Mike sits on his couch, the briefcase of pot open on the coffee table in front of him, Harvey's business card resting atop the bags of weed.
Fuck, that was close, Mike thinks.
The thought has two meanings. The most obvious is that he nearly got caught. Why did he let Trevor get him into these situations? He knew better. Hell, he told Trevor the stats on death via drug deals versus death row. He had his eyes wide open and he still did it anyway. And he was nearly arrested for his trouble. Awesome.
And then there was the other meaning. It was stupid, but just for a moment he thought he had Harvey convinced. That maybe he could finally get out of this … whatever his life has become. It was like he was presented with the exact opportunity he didn't know he wanted, only not only did he not get it, now he knows what it is that he wants but can't have.
Denial is easier. It's easier to just pretend that he's okay, that he's over getting kicked out of school and getting knocked into a different life. But he isn't. Spending that time with Harvey, however brief it was, made him realize how much he craved something better, something more than this life he has made for himself. Harvey challenged him, and he felt the fire within flicker, felt that indescribable something that happens when you go toe to toe with someone who is a worthy challenge.
And now that he has realized that, acknowledged and accepted that he wants something more, he can't go back to pretending like he doesn't care. He can't.
His cell phone rings, and looking at the caller ID he can see that it's Trevor. He hits the ignore button. Fucking Trevor.
If Harvey thought hiring Mike and running the risk of anyone finding out that he had hired someone with no law degree was bad, it was nothing compared to hiring a completely idiotic (though admittedly qualified) lawyer who Harvey wants to strangle on an hourly basis. Seriously, the guy was infuriating.
"So what's happening with the case?" Harvey asks his new associate.
"She gave me a full account of what happened. But there's no way to prove her assertions that Hunt did what he did," Rick Sorkin tells him.
"Yeah, that's kind of the point of being a lawyer. Finding the proof," Harvey says, turning his head away so his subordinate can't see his eye roll.
"And how do we do that? There's no physical evidence. They did an in-house investigation which turned up nothing. How do we look for something that isn't there?"
And this time Harvey does let him see the eye roll. "There is always something there. Look, this is what the job is. Follow the leads, track down evidence, build your case. Think about it - if he's done this once, he's probably done it before. So subpoena the records of all the former female employees who worked directly under Hunt. Maybe one of them will talk."
Rick nods. "Okay, got it. Thank you, Mister Specter."
Harvey watches him walk back to his cubicle and has to actively suppress the need to throw something. He never should've hired Rick. He only did it because he was the last interview of the day (he showed up ten minutes late for his appointment, the appointment which Mike stole, but waited in the waiting area all afternoon in the hopes he could still get in to be interviewed, so Harvey had to give him points for tenacity if nothing else) and he was so bored by the seemingly never ending stream of Harvard clones answering his questions with stock standard answers that the mere thought of enduring another day of the same torture was horrifying. So he hired Rick to just get the whole thing over with.
And of course a decision based on that criterion was bound to fail. Rick has no instinct, no drive. How he even graduated Harvard Harvey can't work out. It didn't seem like he really wanted this. Not like Mike did. (Okay, that was probably unfair. Rick did want this. He just didn't want to work for it.)
Seriously, he needs to stop thinking about that stupid kid and his wasted potential. There were millions of people out there in worse circumstances than they probably deserve. He doesn't care or even think about any of them. So why can't he stop thinking about the apparent genius who couldn't make it through one year of college without doing something irrevocably stupid?
It's for the best. Hiring Mike would have been a mistake. He would've done something stupid and exposed Harvey and then where would he be? Best to just forget the whole thing and deal with all the current problems in his life. Like his new idiot associate.
Mike goes to visit Grammy. He tells her that he doesn't have the money for her new place but that he'll figure it out (and all the while his brain is picturing the briefcase of pot hidden in the oven at home). Grammy, who has always been the sharpest and most clever person Mike has ever met, gets that look in her eyes, the one he's seen far too often, that says she knows he is up to no good.
"Michael, I want you to listen to me. I know you don't have that kind of money. And whatever you are thinking of doing to get it, I want you to promise me that you won't."
"I wasn't-" Mike starts to object, but of course she won't let him get away with that.
"Yes, you were. And I don't want you doing something stupid just for me. It's not your job to look after me. I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to look after you first. So whatever you were planning on doing, don't. Promise me."
"I promise," Mike says, his half formed ideas about finding someone to buy Trevor's pot dissolving before his eyes.
When he leaves her nursing home, he doesn't know what to do or where to go. The midday sun beats down on his skin as he starts the long walk home. His phone rings and it's Trevor calling. He hates Trevor more in this moment than he has ever hated anyone in his whole life, and when he picks up the phone he says, "You sent me into a drug bust, Trevor. What makes you think I could possibly want to talk to you right now?"
"Look, Mike, I'm sorry, okay. I didn't know."
"Of course not," Mike replies blithely. "I get screwed over because you don't know the whole story. Gee, where have I heard that before?"
"It's true. Once I found out what was happening they pulled a gun and kept me there."
Jesus, is Trevor really expecting sympathy from him? "I don't care, Trevor. You sent me into a drugs bust. That is not okay."
"Look, Mike, you know I didn't mean for that to happen. But I need the drugs back."
Mike laughs then, because of course, of course Trevor cares more about his stash than their friendship. Trevor has always found things to prioritize over Mike, and he doesn't know how he is only just realizing that. And fuck Trevor for never putting him first, for never caring about their friendship as much as Mike does. "It's gone," Mike lies, and it feels better than it should, finally making Trevor hurt for once. "I got rid of it when I saw the cops."
"Fuck, Mike," Trevor groans. But Mike doesn't want to hear it. He hangs up before Trevor can get another word in and just keeps walking.
He walks for hours, but he doesn't know what to do. He can't leave Grammy like this. She raised him, looked after him, and deserves so much more. But he doesn't know how to fix this. He won't break his promise, but he has no other means of getting the money for her.
He doesn't know why, but just for a moment he's tempted to call Harvey. Which is ridiculous, because they aren't friends, are barely even acquaintances, and there is no way Harvey could help with this.
He pushes the impulse aside, just keeps walking.
Harvey leaves Pearson Hardman and decides for once to walk home.
It's been a long fucking day, and losing himself in the crowded city streets feels pretty good right about now. Despite it being just past nightfall on a Tuesday night the noises of the city bubble around him. It's a comforting cocoon, and he can lose himself, just forget all his problems and become one of the masses.
And then because fate (or New York) is a fickle mistress, who does he happen to (literally) bump into but one Mike Ross.
"Mike," Harvey says when Mike automatically murmurs an apology and tries to keep walking.
"Harvey?" Mike replies, looking at him now, completely surprised.
Harvey runs his eyes along the length of Mike's body. He's in jeans and a t-shirt, looking a good five years younger than he looked in his suit, but Harvey also can't deny he looks better this way, more real. And yet, "You look like shit."
Mike laughs, a little ruefully for Harvey's liking. "Thanks, Harvey, appreciate that."
"What's going on?" Harvey asks, like they are two old friends bumping into each other instead of what they actually are: two strangers who have spent a grand total of twenty minutes in each other's company. And yet, somehow, it feels more like the old friends scenario.
"Long day," Mike replies, rather cryptically.
"Tell me about it," Harvey agrees.
"Why, what's wrong with you?"
"Long week," Harvey replies, just to get one up on Mike, and Mike smiles, like instead of being annoyed or offended he is nothing but charmed by this facet of Harvey's personality. "Come on," Harvey says. "Wanna grab some food? You can tell me all about your long day."
"Only if you tell me about your long week," Mike says, but he falls into step beside Harvey as they head to a nearby restaurant, and Harvey finds himself agreeing easily.
"You hired the guy I was pretending to be?" Mike asks, incredulous.
Harvey nods. "Yup."
"What's he like?"
"Well, he graduated in the top ten of his class. Average height, average build, average personality."
"You don't like him," Mike observes, because Harvey looks so completely bored by this topic and he figures there is some other story here.
"Oh, did I not mention he's also a fucking idiot who acts like he couldn't find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight?"
"The American President? Really?"
And Harvey grins at him, like he has just passed some test he didn't even know he was taking. He finds himself returning the gesture, and it's like something in him settles. It's actually kinda scary, how calm he feels in Harvey's presence. Because he's still a loser who got kicked out of school and doesn't have a steady job and can't afford to take care of his only living relative (while Harvey is obviously successful and rich and probably has squillions to spare, and they so do not belong in each other's world), but being here with Harvey, he doesn't feel any of that. He feels like the best version of himself, like the man he actually wants to be: worthy, honest, unbroken.
But those feelings are too scary to dwell on, so he says, "Well, you know, you have no one to blame but yourself. You could've had me and my awesome brain but you passed, remember."
He means it in a joking way, the urge to tease Harvey overwhelming (even though he tries not to think too hard on that, because it's ridiculous - they barely even know each other, and shouldn't like each other, and really, what are they even doing here…).
"Don't remind me," Harvey says darkly.
Harvey's cell rings, saving Mike from having to reply. And thank fuck for that, because what was he supposed to say? Harvey basically just admitted to regretting not hiring him. And if he spoke, he might do something stupid, like beg for him to reconsider and fire Rick and hire him. And that would just be embarrassing for both of them.
Harvey murmurs an apology as he digs the phone out of his pocket and answers.
"What is it, Rick? … I'm busy … No … Of course they did, they're not going to make it easy for you … I don't care if you have to look through every book in the library, find a precedent and get it done."
Harvey hangs up the phone. Mike doesn't even pretend like he wasn't listening in to the conversation. "So, what did he do this time?"
"More like what he didn't do."
"Tell me about the case," Mike says, even though he expects Harvey not to.
But he does. "Well, I can't say too much obviously, but basically it's a sexual harassment suit. We're trying to get access to the CEO's company's files because we figure-"
"If he's done it once, then he's done it before," Mike supplies, getting a pleased smile from Harvey.
"Exactly. And if so, there would be proof of that. But they won't hand them over. They claim we're invading their employee's right to privacy. But there is something in there; we just have to figure out how to get to it."
"Hmmm…" Mike says, thinking the problem over. "Did they do an in-house investigation?"
"Yes," Harvey replies, sounding the word slowly, like he's trying to catch up to Mike's train of thought.
"Whoever did the investigation would have worked for the CEO. How can they thoroughly investigate something when they are looking into their own boss? No one is going to properly investigate their own CEO when they work for him too."
Harvey just stares at him. Mike doesn't know what's going on in that head of his, but he looks stunned and impressed and hungry all at once. But he won't be the one to look away first. He returns the gaze, a small smile pulling at his mouth, his heart beating hard in his chest.
Harvey has never wanted anyone the way he wants Mike in this moment.
He can't describe it. His mind is amazing, a force to be admired and feared in equal measure. The way he can challenge and help Harvey. And then there is the fact that they barely know each other, but the two times they have met Mike has impressed him, made him want to help Mike out in return.
And yes, Harvey regrets not hiring Mike now. How could he not? Mike has just proved once again that he is better than the lawyer he was impersonating. And regret is not something Harvey experiences too often. He resolves to do something for Mike, give him a helping hand, give him something in penitence for not hiring him like he should have.
After their waiter clears their empty plates Harvey leans forward and says, "So, tell me, how does someone with a mind as amazing as yours end up dealing drugs for a living?" Because, let's face it, if Harvey wants to find some way to help Mike out, asking about the drug dealing thing will probably clue him in pretty damn quick.
Mike looks offended by Harvey's question. But Harvey won't take it back. He's genuinely curious. This kid (okay, he's not really a kid, Harvey should probably stop using that word, even if it's just in his own mind) has the most untapped potential of anyone he has ever met and he wants to know how he could waste such a talent and still live with himself.
"I don't," Mike replies, almost defiant. "It was a one-time thing."
"Because you almost got caught?"
"No. And I didn't almost get caught. Remember me being smart enough to figure out they were cops because of a book I read in elementary school…?"
And Harvey can't help but laugh at that. Because he has a point. He used that brain of his to realize he was walking into a bad situation (based solely on a book he read twenty years previous), and not many people would've had the balls or brains to get out of that situation like he did. "Fair enough," Harvey says, raising his glass in salute before taking a sip.
"My friend, Trevor," (Harvey fights the impulse to groan at the name - he's never met Mike's so called best friend and he already hates him) "he's been trying to get me to help out for a while now. I was desperate for the cash, so I agreed. And after finding out he sent me in to get busted, sufficed to say I won't be dealing drugs anytime soon."
"What do you need the money for?" Harvey asks. There is something about the way Mike talks about it that makes him think it's not just for rent or expenses or something stupid. He didn't mention it in the interview, only saying he needed twenty five grand urgently and Trevor agreed to pay it.
Mike sits back in the booth, seems to consider him. Harvey remains unflinching under Mike's heavy gaze, tries to let him know that he can tell him anything. It's not quite his lawyer face, but it's close. It's his 'I actually care and you can tell me anything' face. He doesn't use it often. In fact, he can't remember the last time he felt so compelled to actively care about someone he didn't have to. And he doesn't know why it's happening now either, but it is, and he can't deny that.
"My Grammy. She's sick. She's in a nursing home but she needs better care. If I can't come up with the cash to put her into a private facility they're going to put her in a state home."
Mike takes a deep breath, like saying it out loud has made it real. He fidgets with his glass of water, avoids Harvey's gaze.
"I'm sorry," Harvey says, the words feeling idiotic on his tongue. Because for once, words have failed him. He didn't know what else to say. This moment feels too heavy, too real, and it's terrifying.
When it becomes clear Mike isn't going to respond, Harvey murmurs a "Hey," to get his attention, forcing Mike's eyes to his. "Wanna get out of here?"
The words slip from Harvey's mouth without proper forethought and fuck did he really just come on to this guy he barely knows who is probably straight and fuck he just wants to take it all back.
But then Mike smiles, and says, "Sure."
"Nice place," Mike says, and his feet carry him over to the windows. They are large, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and the city sparkles below him. It's beautiful.
"Thanks. I like it," Harvey says, handing Mike a drink as he comes to stand beside him.
"How long have you lived here?"
"Um, about three or four years."
Mike takes a sip of his drink, looks around the room a bit more. It's the kind of place that looks a little too pristine for Mike's taste, like it was more concerned about how it looked rather than how comfortable it was. Mike couldn't help but compare it to his own apartment. Harvey's condo is so completely different - the kind of place he'd never choose for himself. And yet, he still likes it.
"It's amazing. It suits you. I can just picture you up here, looking down on the world below. Like you're just slightly apart from the city, looking down at everyone but not really looking down on them, arrogant and endearing all at once."
Mike realizes he has let his mouth run away with him when Harvey doesn't immediately respond. He replays the words in his head and groans internally. Why does he always have to keep talking? Why can he never just smile and nod like a normal person??
He slowly looks up to Harvey, fully expecting Harvey to be laughing at him or some other completely legitimate reaction. Instead Harvey just stares at him, looking at Mike like he doesn't know if he is a complete stranger or the only person in the world who truly knows him.
"There's something about you," Harvey says, eyes still fixed on him, a puzzle Harvey is trying to solve.
"Yeah?" Mike murmurs, voice low and rough. "And what's that?"
Instead of answering Harvey closes the space between them and kisses him. Mike would be lying if he said he expected this, but there is something about the way their mouths move together, practiced and perfect, and despite not anticipating this he can't help but think that there was something inevitable about it anyway.
Harvey leads Mike across the condo to his bedroom, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. As soon as they enter the four walls Mike's mouth is on his, his hands on his clothes, apparently doing his level best to get them off his body as soon as humanly possible. He's a frenzied mass in Harvey's arms, warm and desperate and Harvey can't help but reciprocate, peeling Mike's tee and jeans off like they have personally offended him.
They stand at the foot of Harvey's bed, Mike's hand down his pants. Harvey thrusts into the touch. Mike mouths at his chest, moans like he wants more.
And then, as if Harvey's very thought has spurred him into action, Mike sinks to his knees, pulls down Harvey's pants in haste and before Harvey has time to register what is happening, Mike engulfs him. Harvey lets out a choked sob as Mike sucks him down, fingers pressing into Harvey's thighs as he bobs up and down. He looks up, keeps his eyes locked on Harvey the whole time. Harvey tries to not thrust into his mouth, instead runs a hand through Mike's messy hair.
"Mike," Harvey says, pulling on his hair.
Mike gets the message. He slowly pulls off Harvey's cock, stands and kisses Harvey. It's dirty and frantic. His hands settle on his hips, brings Mike's body crashing into his. They rut against each other.
"Oh fuck. Harvey. Fuck me," Mike murmurs between kisses. "Please," he adds, almost like an afterthought, and Harvey groans.
He pushes his hips even closer, their cocks sliding together tantalizingly. Harvey knows somewhere deep in his soul that this man will absolutely ruin him. But he doesn't fucking care. Because he wants this even more, is desperate to push into Mike and come inside him, impatient in way he's never been with anyone else.
He eventually breaks away, pushes Mike onto the bed. Mike grins up at him, more than happy at this turn of events. He rolls onto his stomach, spreads his legs, and Harvey, already painfully hard, feels like he could come just from the sight before him.
He kneels in the space between Mike's legs, runs a fingertip along the length of his crack. Mike groans and writhes beneath him. Harvey reaches over to his bedside table and grabs the lube and a condom. He runs a tongue along the spine of Mike's back, lingers in the dip at the small of his back, hand gently kneading the flesh of his ass.
He gets the condom on and his fingers lubed in record time, but even that quick break in contact seems too long to Mike, the younger man begging with a never-ending litany of, "Come on, Harvey. Fuck. Do it. Now…" as he rubs himself into the bed sheets, clearly desperate for friction.
Harvey gently presses a finger in, the action finally silencing Mike. He moves in and out, working him open as quickly as he can. They are both desperate now, Harvey wrapping a hand around himself as he quickly adds another finger.
But Harvey can't hold out. He has had more than his fair share of people in this bed, both genders enjoying the privilege, and yet he's never felt this desperate for anyone before. He positions himself along the length of Mike's body and slowly presses his cock in. Mike swears, pushing back to hasten the action.
It's fucking amazing. Harvey pumps into Mike, quick and hard. Mike moans and gasps beneath him. Harvey wraps his arms around Mike's torso and maneuvers them both up onto their knees and Mike reaches out and wraps a hand behind them, rests it on the back of Harvey's neck. The other goes to his own cock and he starts pumping.
"Mike," Harvey murmurs, kissing his neck. He keeps moving, always moving, worries the skin of Mike's neck with his teeth.
"Oh fuck," Mike whimpers, before he twists his head and captures Harvey's mouth with his own. He thrusts his tongue into Harvey's mouth, moans as they move, only breaks their kiss to cry out as he comes, spilling onto Harvey's sheets.
Harvey, hands still on Mike's torso, presses Mike back harder against his chest, pushes his cock in deep and slow, comes with Mike's name on his lips before they collapse in a heap onto the bed.
Mike wakes unsure where he is. Not a pleasant experience really. He looks around the room - it's vaguely familiar. And then he sees the man lying in the bed beside him.
Harvey.
Mike can't help but smile as he looks down at Harvey. He didn't expect this. How did he go from agreeing against his better judgment to deal drugs for Trevor to almost but not quite tricking one of the city's best lawyers into hiring him to sleeping with said lawyer? How the fuck is this his life?
And the weird part was that he actually liked Harvey. Which is kinda ridiculous, because Harvey is so not his type. Okay, yeah, the guy was hot. Like, really fucking hot. But more than that, he intrigued him, engaged him. Mike couldn't remember the last time he ever felt intellectually connected to someone like this. Harvey is someone who could keep up with him, keep him interested, challenge him in ways no one in his life does. Because, as much as he loves Grammy and Jenny and, yes, even Trevor, none of them really satisfy that part of him. Granted, he thought that part of him was long dormant, but Harvey had reawakened it, that need to be respected and tested and the want to engage with the world at large. He was sick of slumming it, and Harvey helped him realize that.
He slides over, rests a hand lightly on Harvey's stomach. He presses a mouth to his chest, moves across the expanse of skin, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses behind. Harvey starts to stir, so Mike shifts his whole body so he lies atop the older man, swirls a tongue around his nipple.
"Mmmm…" Harvey moans, eyes finally fluttering open. "Morning."
"Good morning," Mike says, leaning up and kissing him.
Harvey is instantly onboard, deepening the kiss. Mike aligns their bodies, his hard cock pressing into Harvey's, his movements slow and rhythmic. Harvey wraps his arms around him, shifts his body to counter the movements Mike makes, and together they create a delicious friction. Harvey throws a leg over Mike's hip, presses them closer.
Mike nibbles on the stubbled skin of Harvey's neck and hears the older man whisper, "You feel fucking incredible."
Mike's answer is to press in that much harder. It doesn't take long for them both to come, and Mike can't believe how much he wants this. Harvey's arms are warm and real around him and they are slick and sticky and a few days ago he didn't even know Harvey and now it feels like they've known each other all their lives.
Mike presses his lips to Harvey's in a gentle kiss before rolling off him. He glances at the bedside table and notices it's already eight am. Fuck, when did that happen? "I should go," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a wad of tissues from the bedside table to clean himself with.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Harvey asks, sitting up in the bed but making no move to go anywhere himself.
"No, but you do," Mike says, starting to dress. "You'll be late for work if you don't leave soon. And I still have to find a job and figure out how to find twenty five grand in a completely legal way. So, you know, just a usual day really."
"Can I call you?" Harvey asks, and Mike, who has just put his shoes on, smiles at him.
"Of course." He spots a Sharpie on the bedside table so he crosses the room and picks it up, ignoring the notepad lying right beside it and instead grabbing Harvey's arm and writing his cell number on Harvey's forearm. Harvey watches with an amused expression and when Mike is done he leans down and briefly kisses him before turning and walking out the door.
Given the circumstances Harvey doesn't think he has any right to feel this happy.
Because Jessica has figured out that he palmed off the case and Rick is still an idiot and has done none of the heavy lifting on said case (when he points this out to Jessica her reply is: "Semantics"), and even though he won in court and the judge agreed that they could see the files, they sent over an entire rooms worth of boxes. So instead of taking Mike out for dinner (or taking him to bed, whichever happened first) Harvey is stuck with Rick in a tiny conference room, going over a million files.
But feel happy he does, because when he shucks off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before diving into the next box and pulling out a load of files, he sees the pale shadow of Mike's phone number against the smooth plane of his skin.
Harvey can't help but smile. He didn't anticipate this. Mike was unexpected in every way. He crashed into Harvey's interview on bravado alone and when he was caught out they somehow ended up having a casual conversation about dealing drugs like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, to run into him mere days later in a city of millions, to take a chance and connect with him on every level…
Not hiring Mike was a mistake. Harvey knows that now. Maybe they could've passed Mike off as a lawyer. Maybe Harvey could've hired him as his legal assistant and got him to do all the background and legwork, keeping everything above board. Looking at Rick slowly go through the mountain of paperwork he misses Mike's quick thinking and creative mind. Which is ridiculous, because they've spent but a few hours together and you can't miss something that you never had and yet Harvey can't help but feel that he has made a huge mistake, let an amazing opportunity pass just because of the risks it posed to him.
And Mike, as much as he wanted the opportunity to work with Harvey, his main motivation had not been himself but his grandmother. Mike hadn't told him the whole story, but Harvey got the sense that she had gone above and beyond the typical grandmother duties and Mike was trying to pay her back.
Maybe it was better Mike hadn't come to work with him. That level of love and devotion was unheard of in his field, and would soon be quashed out of anyone stepping into the four walls of Pearson Hardman.
Harvey leaves Rick to continue sorting through the files while he takes a break, heads outside for some fresh air. The night air is still balmy and he can't help but stare at his arm, even going so far as to idly trace his fingertips over the black numbers.
It hits him again, just like it did during the interview, just like when they were eating together, that need deep in his chest to help Mike. It's instinctual. He questions where this sudden desire has come from, why it's Mike above all others that he wants to be with, to help and protect. But he can't come up with an answer.
Instead he pulls out his cell and dials. "Vanessa, I have a job for you. I need to find out which nursing home the grandmother of one Michael Ross is currently living in…"
The worst part about having a brain like his is that it never stops. From the moment Mike wakes to the moment he sleeps it runs nonstop. Which means, on days like today, if Mike isn't thinking about Harvey he is thinking about the pot hidden in his oven or the bills he can't pay for Grammy or wondering what the fuck he is going to do now.
He needs a plan. Something to focus on, something to pursue and keep him occupied, something to keep him on course. Because the temptation to smoke up and just forget everything is so strong, but he wants more than that now. Living life from day to day, scraping by however he can, it's no longer enough.
So the plan he comes up with is this. One: get a job. Two: speak to the nursing home and do whatever it takes to convince them to let him pay off the money in installments. Three: call Harvey and go celebrate his win with him.
Mike nods to himself. Sounds like an awesome plan. (And he ignores the little voice niggling at the corner of his mind saying wow that is the most overly simplistic plan I have ever heard and you know it's not going to be that easy right???)
Finding work in this economy isn't going to be easy, especially since he has no qualifications in anything and most of his work experience hasn't been on this side of legal. The last legitimate job he had was a few years back when he was a bike messenger. Figuring that's as good a place as any to start Mike heads to their dispatch center.
The same manager still works there and, unfortunately, she remembers Mike. They didn't exactly part on the best terms, but Mike is imploring in an honest kind of way, and if for no other reason than she has just had two people quit and they're short staffed, she hires him, starting tomorrow.
Mike is profuse in his gratitude, promises she won't regret it, and then he gets the fuck out of there before she changes her mind. He feels that rush as he leaves, that feeling that comes with being chosen for something, and the knowledge that a steady job might help with his Grammy's care is even better. Granted it's not earning $180k as a lawyer in one of the city's best law firms, but it's honest and legal and for now that's more than enough.
(And really, he needs to get over that. Being a lawyer is a dream of the past. Being with Harvey is as close as he will ever get to living that life.)
On a high, he heads to Grammy's to tell her the news. She lights up when he tells her. He even confesses vague and heretofore unrealized plans of maybe going back to school, studying part time. He knows that Grammy loves him, but in that moment, it's the first time in what feels like forever that he thinks maybe she is proud of him. Because, despite how well he tried to hide it, she's always known his income was supplemented by less than savory occupations. And he knows that she can finally see what was always missing, that spark within, the desire to be responsible and grown up and finally take control over his actions and his life.
He doesn't spoil the warm ambience of the room by confessing that he still doesn't know what to do about her care, that if his half-baked idea doesn't come to fruition he has literally no backup plan and that wrenches at his insides. He figures it's best to cross that bridge when he gets to it.
After hugging her goodbye, Mike goes in search of the best person to speak to about the financial situation. The nurse at the front desk points him to the administrative wing and after waiting in a bland waiting room for nearly half an hour he meets with one of their finance administrators (who looks even younger than he is, and doesn't that just take this meeting to a whole new level of embarrassment).
"Hi, I'm Mike. Mike Ross," Mike says, extending his hand in greeting.
"Anne Russell," she replies, shaking his hand before indicating for him to take a seat. "What can I do for you, Mike?"
"I'm here about one of your residents, Mrs Edith Ross. I'm told she needs an upgrade in care which is going to cost twenty five thousand. I'm here to see if there are any … payment options available or … something…" he trails off lamely, with a shrug as an added plea for help.
Anne nods, sympathetic, but somehow still not giving too much away. Mike supposes he can't have been the first person who couldn't come up with a large amount of money on such short notice. But still, they probably have their own rules they need to adhere to.
"Let's have a look, shall we. You said her name was Edith Ross? And her date of birth?"
"February 22, 1929."
Anne types some things into her computer, and Mike watches anxiously as she types and scrolls and reads. But then a look of confusion comes over her face. She looks to Mike, and then back to her computer, face intent on whatever it is she sees.
"Mike, it says here the payment for her upgrade has already been paid."
Whatever he had been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. He just sits there, trying to process the words. It makes no sense. "There must be a mistake," he tells her.
She shakes her head, looks back at the monitor. "No, there's no mistake. Payment was made in full. This morning in fact."
Confusion and a bizarre sense of dread flood his stomach. "Paid by who?"
"Um, a Mr Harvey Specter."
Harvey has attempted to call Mike four separate times since Mike left his condo yesterday morning. Time has not been on his side, what with the millions of files he and Rick have spent the last two days going through, and every time Harvey gets a minute to himself, he is accosted by someone with something that 'can't wait', and never once does he get the chance to even dial Mike's number.
But they finally figure out who else has been harassed by Hunt and he sends Rick off to talk to her and fuck it, Harvey's officially done for the day.
He doesn't bother attempting to call Mike from the office (because he figures the fifth time won't be the charm), so he packs up and heads downstairs with every intention of calling Mike once he's away from the Pearson Hardman building and maybe asking if he wants to grab a late bite. Only when he gets down to the lobby, Mike is there.
He's sitting on one of the side benches, his knee bobbing up and down in quick succession. He hasn't seen Harvey yet, and the older man can't help but smile at the sight before him. Mike looks so small, sitting there alone, dwarfed by the high ceilings and empty cavernous space of the lobby. He's once again dressed casually, black jeans and a light grey tee, and he looks so completely out of place here and yet somehow that makes him even more endearing.
"Mike," Harvey says when he nears, unable to stop the smile on his face.
Mike turns at the sound of his name, stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waits for Harvey to come to him. Harvey is just so happy to see him (it's only been less than two days but feels like so much more) that without even thinking he leans in and kisses him hello. But Mike doesn't reciprocate, doesn't move, and when Harvey steps back he finally notices how rigid Mike looks, like he is desperately trying to hold everything in.
"What's wrong?" Harvey asks.
"What. The. Fuck. Harvey?" Mike grits out, like the words were so hard to speak he had to take a breath between each word to find the courage to keep going.
"What?" Harvey repeats, now genuinely bewildered.
"You paid for my Grammy's care?"
Oh. That. "Mike-"
"What the hell were you thinking?" Mike demands. His voice is louder than normal, and it echoes in the silent room.
"I just wanted to-"
"I mean, I don't get it. Was this some kind of payment for the other night? Twenty five grand for me taking it up the ass?"
"What? No!" Harvey cries, completely shocked by the mere idea of it. Because the truth was, it wasn't about that. He'd made up his mind to help Mike before they slept together, and it never even occurred to him that Mike could perceive this as some kind of payment for sex.
"Do you know how this makes me feel, Harvey?" Mike says, and his voice is smaller now, deflated. "You show up out of nowhere and ask me to dinner and I think we're connecting, enough to sleep with you, and then I don't hear from you for days even though you said you'd call. But then I find out you essentially paid me twenty five grand. I mean, do you get it? How fucking used and stupid I feel."
"Mike-"
"I should've seen this coming," Mike continues, and it's like he's not even talking to Harvey anymore. Harvey's heart breaks as Mike steps back from him, like he is so offended by Harvey's mere presence. And this wasn't what Harvey wanted. He wanted to help, to build Mike up, only now it feels like whatever they have is crumbling into ruins around them. "First Trevor fucking sells me out, and then I meet you. And for some unknown reason I feel instinctively drawn to you, and I think 'here is a guy who is apparently smart and principled and maybe for the first time I've met someone who won't treat me like shit'. Well, I suppose it's my own stupid fault for thinking that maybe you could be different."
And then Mike turns and walks away, running a hand through his shaggy hair, and at first Harvey is too shocked to even move, can't wrap his brain around what has just happened. He watches Mike walk away and the thought comes crashing into his mind: this can't be the end.
So he hurries after Mike, calls his name. Mike ignores him, makes it out into the courtyard before Harvey catches up. He hustles around Mike, steps in front of him and blocks his path. When Mike tries to sidestep him, Harvey reaches out, puts a hand to his bare arm, and it's like with that one touch all of Mike's will is sapped from his body. He physically deflates before Harvey, doesn't try and pull out of his grasp, doesn't try to walk away.
"I'm sorry," Harvey says, with more sincerity than he has ever used before when saying those two little words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Mike. You have to believe me; never once did it even occur to me that you might think that was the reason I paid that money. Because it wasn't. I swear."
Mike slowly looks up and meets his gaze. He doesn't look convinced, still looks angry, but there is something there. Something like hope. "Why then?" he asks, voice small.
"Because I wanted to help you. That's it. No ulterior motive, no secret hopes for you to repay via various sexual acts. Just the blinding need to, for once, think about someone other than myself. Because you were right, Mike. You were so fucking right. I should have hired you. And despite all my experience and Rick's Harvard degree you were the one who figured out how to break this case. So consider it payment for legal consultation, consider it a thank you, consider it a gift, but just don't ever think there is something underhanded about it."
Harvey feels the breath go from his body, physically exhausted by his proclamation. But he won't take it back, because every single word is true.
How the fuck did this become his life? This wasn't him. He didn't get emotionally invested. He didn't chase people down and apologize. He didn't care what people thought of him. And yet, it's like, with Mike none of that applies. But what's most surprising is the purity with which he wants Mike. He doesn't care about Mike's past, only his future. He wants to help Mike for Mike himself, because he deserves it. He wants to be with Mike, but respects Mike's option to not want to be with him in return.
And it's so ridiculous, because they barely know anything about each other. But Harvey can't fight the feeling that that doesn't matter. That this is just who they are, connected, meant to be part of each other's lives in one way or another.
But all that could be lost now. He just really fucking hopes it's not.
[Continue to part two]