[fic] Suits: evidence a through d (Mike/Harvey)
Title: evidence a through d
Fandom: Suits
Disclaimer: Suits owns me, not the other way around. Complete, utter ownage.
Pairing: Harvey/Mike (or, as I want to call it for humorous reasons, Marvey)
Rating: R
Warning: some kissing and getting off, foul language
Summary: Harvey Spector is convinced that he loves only one thing: himself. Until he realizes the evidence is overwhelmingly against him.
A/N: I should have fallen asleep hours ago. Instead, this. Enjoy it. I certainly do.
---
(exhibit a: shock value)
Harvey is sipping on his bitterly black coffee, taking his daily, leisurely cruise through the firm's cubicles to spy on the peons. He's a man of routine, but only to the point where he's unpredictable. Not unpredictable in the terrifying, insane way, but in the classy, intimidating way. Meaning he'll appear at people's stations unexpectedly with snappy, sarcastic remarks just because he can.
It's the part of the day when he's run out of steam from his second cup and can't quite ignore the dull buzz in the back of his mind that whines for more caffeine. Taking in the aroma of the stuff when he's like this is enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and dilate his pupils.
Harvey's addicted to coffee, has been ever since Harvard. He doesn't know a single person at the firm who doesn't drink it. Whenever he looks around, which isn't often because Harvey is not a man to give attention to those who don't deserve it, there's always at least someone in his sights that has a cup in hand. He tips more coffee into his mouth and enjoys the instant zing of flavor shoot to his head.
He's on his way to his office, it's almost in sight, when he sees Mike at his cubicle crunching up a Red Bull can and tossing it over his shoulder. Harvey never jams on the brakes, he slows down and pulls into stops. He's right on the curb of Mike's cubicle when he reaches 0 mph.
Mike is cracking open another can of Red Bull as he pours over another file Harvey didn't give him. He hasn't noticed Harvey yet. His eyes are red-rimmed with impressively dark circles under them, but they're still honing in on the case lying before him with almost alarming intensity, flicking over words faster than Harvey could ever hope to read.
As Mike jerks up the can to take a long draught, Harvey is suddenly in his immediate sightline. He starts, chokes and sprays some of it onto the case-file. Harvey smirks.
"Word of advice: try not to spit on your cases." Harvey drinks from his cup. "Unless Louis gives them to you. Then feel free."
The engines start up again and Harvey is back to rolling his way down the avenue. He looks through his side-mirror - the reflective glass doors of someone else's office - to see Mike's reaction. Which is, as always, priceless. With that gaping mouth still dripping with some Red Bull, those wide, confused eyes, that mussed hair, that cocked head.
The Red Bull wasn't exactly a surprise, Harvey just wasn't expecting it. Like how Mike rides his bike to work and wears cheap suits even though he can afford a decent car and above average wardrobe. It isn't something Harvey would do, and it makes him curious. Harvey wonders if Mike drinks coffee. He wonders how he takes it. Would it be black and bitter like his, or full of cream and sugar? He seems more like a cream and sugar kind of guy.
That's when Harvey jams on the breaks, right in front of Donna. He can see himself in the door to his office, his cup frozen halfway to his mouth.
Harvey isn't a cream and sugar kind of guy.
But Mike seems like he might be.
Since when did Mike stop becoming something other than his reflection?
And since when did Harvey stop thinking it mattered?
Harvey takes a rare moment, right there in the exposed hallway, frozen in Drive, to contemplate the universe and how it isn't imploding.
"Harvey." Donna snaps her fingers. "Earth to Harvey."
He lowers his hand, which he then remembers is holding coffee, and raises it again to take a sizable shot. He nods over to her, tipping his cup to her in a silent cheers. "Donna."
Who raises a skeptical eyebrow in response. She doesn't say anything, and Harvey is glad about that because he doesn't think he can talk much at the moment; he doesn't know what he'd say, doesn't know how he'd sound, doesn't know if he should make something up or just blurt out what's on his mind.
He retreats to the oasis of his personal office, not to be disturbed, as usual. Looking out onto the city's skyline instead of the cases piling up on his desk, Harvey can only think of how his reflection, right there in front of him, frowning and gripping a cold coffee, is not Mike Ross.
---
(exhibit b: voluntary servitude)
Harvey is pacing in his office, talking on his phone. He knows that this is enough of a warning for Donna to ward off anyone from coming in. He also knows that the furious gestures that he's making are overkill in the signaling department. And they're not only visible to Donna, but to everyone else that walks by.
At the moment, he couldn't care less.
"Mister Feriat, your company is in no danger from what the witness has testified to. The entire rehearsed speech she gave was written by someone who hasn't studied law a day in their lives; it's full of holes and doesn't even corroborate the angle the prosecution is going for... No, trying to get this witness taken off the stand now hurts us more than it helps us. We can use this to our advantage, we can rip her apart on the stand and make them see how invalidated the entire scam is..."
Harvey rolls his eyes with an exasperated groan. "No it isn't ludicrous, it exposes the other side as blatantly untrustworthy... Yes, but that's irrelevant, just because she's got investment in your company doesn't lead to that..."
He gestures violently in the air as he listens to Feriat go on and on over bullshit. "Simply speaking, Mister Feriat, the case the prosecution has depends on this phony witness, and if we show that to the jury, their entire case will break down in the courtroom. And we don't want to settle for their terms or get that witness off the stand beforehand, because this is all about us timing everything exactly right. They're going to go to pieces and we need the jury to see that. By taking this girl off the stand, you'd be giving them a chance to find someone else, maybe even someone that could win it for them. We know we can win with this one. We know we can..."
Harvey sits down in his chair, spinning around to face the window and back again to face his desk. "Mister Feriat, I guarantee you that this case will be won."
The shouting on the other end of the line makes Harvey hold the receiver out for a moment until Feriat calms down. Harvey gnashes his teeth and rolls his eyes. For emphasis. "Mister Feriat, I understand where you're coming from. However, I have to disagree. And as your lawyer, I have the responsibility to do what I think is best for you as a client -"
He's cut off. He drums his fingers on the oak desk. It makes a fantastic sound that Harvey can't fully appreciate right now.
Suddenly, he stands up and resumes pacing again. One hand curls into a tight fist and wraps around to his back. "I agree that there is a legitimate claim to throw Miss Hinkle off the stand, and it would work. However, I must insist that we keep her exactly where she is and keep our cards close to our chest until the proper moment..."
The door opens just then, and a tiny knock echoes across the glass. Harvey turns his head, his eyes sparking halfway across the room, and Mike is there. Harvey jerks his head to the couches and turns back to the window. Mike takes a seat. Harvey's fist slides into his pocket.
"Mister Feriat, I am fully aware of legal repercussions for false witnesses..." Harvey starts pacing again, he's already forgotten that Mike is in the room. His voice is steadily getting louder. "And that is why - Mister Feriat - that is why - excuse me, excuse me, Mister Feriat, that is why we should wait to announce these claims until the trial date..."
Harvey grits his teeth, fuming. His shoes are leaving tracks in the previously immaculate carpet. He throws himself into his seat once more, and grabs his best fountain pen. He scribbles away, his hand oscillating over the smooth yellow legal pad, his knuckles pressing down so hard and his hand writing so quickly that it burns. He loops the last L with an angry jot of a flourish before throwing the pen back down on the desk.
"Mister Feriat," he says with deadly calm, punctuating every emphasized word with a fist slamming on the tabletop, "This. Is. How. It. Will. Be. Is that fully understood?"
There is a heavy silence.
"Good." Harvey clicks off the phone, sliding it back into his pocket.
Harvey holds his head up with one hand that covers his eyes.
There's the slight sound of a whistle coming from across the room, and Harvey's eyes shoot open as he remembers that Mike is there. Mike came in near the end. He heard most of it. And by 'it,' Harvey means his complete loss of composure. Harvey raises his head to see Mike staring at him.
Mike averts his eyes, looking around awkwardly. "...Sooo..."
Harvey sits back in his chair. His eyes are suddenly filled with fatigue. "So. What do you have for me, kid?" Even his voice sounds tired and hoarse. Probably from all that shouting. He massages one of his temples.
Mike shuffles over. "That one case, the one you wanted today? Like twenty minutes ago?" He tosses the file, which hits the desk with a satisfying slap. "The big one?"
"Ah, yes." Harvey picks it up, flips through the pages. There's a map of highlighting and circling and scribbling in all different colors of gel pens. He glances up at Mike's hands, and sees all sorts of blotches of yellow highlighter and green marker and pink gel pen. "What have you got for me?"
Mike grins. "The king of loopholes."
Harvey smirks. That loophole is like a miracle; the kid can come up with anything when Harvey needs him to. "Good boy. Now get out of here, skinny tie."
Mike straightens up with pride, lifting his chin up, adjusting his poor excuse for a tie, and grinning even wider. "Yessir, your excellency, sir." And he walks away.
Harvey eyes him on his way out.
Mike is staggering, unable to walk in a straight line. He's probably been here for over 24 hours. And he probably hasn't slept for a few days. And he certainly hasn't shaved in a week. And, Harvey adds unnecessarily, he has to have at least three other cases at the moment. From Louis, of course. And there was the dried trail of a forgotten tear staining his cheek, one that Mike clearly didn't know about.
Harvey stands up, leaning heavily on his desk with splayed hands and opened arms. Time to do something about that.
Donna calls after him, but he doesn't answer. This isn't an appointment.
He strides over to an office he doesn't usually visit. He nods past Norma, who doesn't stop him or question him. He tries to avoid her eyes. She always stares at him without ever blinking, and it creeps him out.
"Harvey, to what do I owe the suffering?" Louis sneers from his desk.
"Louis! How nice to see you!" Harvey puts on his best smug smile, just for him.
"Yeah, about as nice as the food poisoning I had this past Thanksgiving. What do you want, Harvey?"
Harvey sat on the edge of Louis' desk.
"Oh, I'm just here to tell you that the cases you've given Mike? They're not his anymore."
Louis snorts, his mouth curling into a disbelieving sneer. "Yeah, except there's nobody else to take them. All of my other guys?" Louis throws up his hands. "Completely overrun with paperwork. I've got nobody to spare, and I'm not taking it easy on anyone. Especially your little golden boy. Plus he's the only one who's taking on the pro bono cases. Can't switch them anywhere else." Louis smirked. If Harvey was going to get what he wanted, he'd have to bypass Louis, who had it out for Mike. And the only way to do that...
"I'm telling you..." Harvey leans forward meaningfully, his hands knitting together on his lap. "They aren't his anymore."
Louis' jaw dropped.
"Are you saying..." Louis' eyes flickered around him, before leaning in close. "Are you saying that you'll take on all of Mike's cases?"
Harvey inclines his head. His eyes don't change and he doesn't leap up and shout something like, 'Joke's on you!' No.
"Even the pro bono cases?"
Harvey nods again.
Louis laughs through his nose in disbelief. "Well. Can't say no to that." He throws up his hands again. "You've got them."
Harvey slides off the desk. "Make him transfer the files to you. You can hand them over to me yourself. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Louis grins. "Oh yes, I would enjoy that."
"You know where to find me."
Harvey makes to leave, but just as he reaches the door, Louis speaks again. It sounds like it just occurred to him, a question that baffles him.
"What's in this for you, exactly?"
Harvey turns, hands in his pockets. He quietly contemplates Louis for a moment.
He doesn't know. He has absolutely no idea how to answer that. He hasn't stopped to think about what's in it for him. And that is one of the most troubling things of all.
So he smirks. And says, "Pro bono cases, Louis. Don't they just give you a thrill?"
And he walks off.
---
(exhibit c: shifting priorities)
There isn't much to it, really. Harvey is out on the town at one of the most expensive restaurants in the world, and he's going to hit on a beautiful woman and they're both going to end up at his apartment. And that will be that. He's at one of the booths, nursing his drink with the reserve of a man who knows if he gets too drunk, he could spill on his tie. And Harvey never spills on his tie.
Ray is coming to pick him up in less than a half hour, so his timeframe is running out.
A woman's heels click up to him. He grins and turns to the side. Standing there is a woman he's never met before in his life. And she knows what she wants. And, once he runs his eyes up and down and all over her, he shrugs without shrugging.
"Harvey Spector's the name."
She sits down at the booth.
"Well, Mister Spector. Can I call you Harvey? I'm Emma. What do you do for a living that allows you to simmer in a bar for an hour drinking the same ridiculously priced drink?"
He grins at that. She's got some spunk. Harvey likes that. "Just your average lawyer." He takes another sip, watching her over the rim of the glass. She looks as if she's already raring to go. All it'll take is a few well-placed lines and his night will be set.
Just then, his phone rings.
He frowns. It's Mike. He holds up a finger. "Sorry, I have to take this." He stands, tosses a few bills onto the table, and walks out of the door of the bar. He's on the dark street, missing out on an evening of perfectly hot sex, just for this call. It had better be good.
"Mike?"
"Harrrrrrvey. Jus' the man I wanted to seeeeee..."
Mike is drunk out of his mind, Harvey knows that. He grins into the phone. "Mike. Where are you?"
"Hmmm, Harrrvey, you should come over... We'd have fuuun, just us two."
Harvey's eyes widen. "And how exactly would we have fun?" His mouth has suddenly gone very dry, and he licks his lips.
Mike giggles. "Don't hafta hide it, Harvey... I know you're as geeky as IIIII ammmm..."
Harvey cocks his head. "...What?"
"I rented Staaar Trek, just for tonight... I was plannin' on watchin' it allllll... But..." Harvey could almost hear the line of confusion crinkle on Mike's face. "I didn't wanna watch it aloooone, sooooo... I... called you, Harveyyy... I know you like Captain Kirk, he's the man, you said so, exact quote, he's the man." Mike giggles again. This time it's more nervous than ecstatic. "Sooo... Wanna come over?? I got pizza, and, uh, lots of beer..."
Harvey is silent for a moment.
"And I know, the beer isn't as... good as, like, whatever you like to drink most of the time or whatever, it's like the cheapest beer money can buy and stuff, so I'd toooootally get it if you were all, like, no and everything."
There's a silence on the other end of the line; Mike is waiting for a response.
To Harvey, there's no other option. But he still sighs like it's the most annoying thing in the world and that he's being forced against his will to perform an act so repulsive that he'd rather rip his tie into little pieces.
"Ray picks me up in less than twenty minutes. Where should I tell him to go?"
He can feel Mike beaming. It's amazing to him that he can pick up on Mike's emotions so clearly, even over the phone.
Harvey Spector does not beam. Especially just because he can somehow sense that someone else is beaming.
Okay, dammit, he's beaming.
---
(exhibit d: breaking point)
It's his own fault, of course. He should have done this months ago.
After what seems like forever, all of Harvey's patience has finally cracked, and here he is, dragging Mike behind him by his skinny tie. He throws Mike into the car, and tells Ray to step on it.
They arrive at Rene's place in less than five minutes. Rene is so happy to see Harvey - until he sees Mike in tow. His face falls faster than Louis' stress balls being thrown at the floor.
Harvey jerks a thumb at the mess behind him. "You're the best. Fix it."
Rene's head dips for a moment, gathering a breath for strength. He straightens with a tight smile. "As you wish, Mister Spector."
Mike's dragged into the back. Harvey falls into a waiting chair, and Rene's assistant Natalie hands him a glass of cognac immediately. He thanks her. She goes to the battlefield.
He waits for the longest time. Every so often he hears raised voices and loud footsteps and ripping fabric and Natalie races out to grab another suit from the rack. It's the most intense scene he's ever seen here, and that's saying something.
He finishes up his drink and lays it on the counter. He sits back down, checks his phone. There's a text message that pops up almost immediately. It's from Mike.
I think Rene might be clinically insane
Harvey snorts, but he types hey, that's my suit-man you're talking about.
Yeah, and he's ripping them apart once he sees them on me.
Maybe it isn't him. Maybe it's you. I've seen you wear suits before, remember?
Harsh. My feelings are hurt
Harvey laughs.
And it's not like you've ever ripped a suit off me
That particular text makes Harvey raise an eyebrow with a smirk. i understand where the man is coming from, hell, anyone with eyes would want to rip suits off you
And there's a suitable stretch of time where Harvey doesn't get any more texts.
Then, finally: there shouldn't be so many rules for wearing suits, seriously. But we're almost done... i think
Harvey's slightly disappointed that there wasn't a direct response, but he reminds himself that sometimes the silences speak louder than words. good, i'm getting tipsy out here from all the shots i shouldn't hvae had time to drink
drunkard
my personal btich
...drunkard
Natalie came out from the back, her eyes exhausted but her face practically glowing in triumph. "Your associate, Mister Ross, has been taken care of."
"Thanks, Miss Natalie." Harvey smiles headily. Maybe he shouldn't have kept on drinking the shots Natalie had provided for him every so often. He's on a happy buzz, one that means he can't fully control himself. He wasn't lying to Mike when he said he'd gotten tipsy.
He hands over his card, and she takes care of all the payment immediately, whisking his card out of sight and back in less than a minute. He signs, skipping over the price. He doesn't need to see it.
What he wants to see? He can't wait for Mike to come out and show him his new suit.
And Rene finally comes out with a flourish, introducing Mike by name. Harvey's complete attention is there. The curtain is brushed aside, and a freshly-fitted Mike comes walking through.
It's enough for Harvey's jaw, which is always impeccably, smugly braced, to drop.
The fit is more than perfect. It's absolutely dirty. It's obscene. But Harvey can't tear his eyes away from the amazingly styled man before him. From the hair style to the cufflinks, Mike's entire wardrobe has been redone. And it's perfect. The fabric shifts around Mike's body like water dripping down a lily. The soft curves Mike had once bragged about were put into focus, leaving nothing to the imagination about the perfectly sculpted thighs and biceps that are thrown into sharp relief whenever he moves them the slightest bit. And the pinstripes are threaded gold, standing out from the dark, deep blue of the suit. The tie is still skinny. At this point, Harvey couldn't picture him in any other type of tie. But the colors in it throw him for a loop, with their perfect complements to the suit itself as well as the shoes. Which are a smooth leather that perfectly slope down the curve of Mike's feet.
Mike is the most stunning Harvey has ever seen him. And Harvey is tipsy. This can't be good, he thinks dimly.
Mike moves to adjust his tie, quirking his eyebrow and his lip into a sarcastic smirk.
And that's it.
Harvey is completely, totally, irrevocably in love.
He stares some more.
"What do you think?" asks Mike.
Harvey chugs down the remainder of his shot, and stands up. He makes a beeline for Rene and grabs his hands, which are still shaking.
"Rene." Harvey is one hundred percent serious. "This is the best work I've ever seen you do."
Rene looks like he's about to cry from happiness. "Harvey... I can't believe it... I... We..."
Harvey closes his eyes and nods. "You did it."
Rene breaks down, sobbing. Natalie joins in, hugging Rene from the back.
Harvey turns back to Mike, who's watching them with no small amount of hilarity. He steps up to him slowly, unable to help himself from casting his eyes all over the package in front of him.
"Mike..." he breathes out. Harvey licks his lips unconsciously.
He doesn't know what to do or say from here. He just knows what he wants, finally, but he doesn't know how to get it.
Not yet, anyway.
"Harvey." Mike nods flippantly. He studies Harvey for a moment, his eyes flicking across his face.
Harvey casts his sights around for Rene and Natalie, and they're both back over there, hugging and crying with joy. "Rene, we're taking off. Thanks... for everything."
"Anything for you, Mr. Spector."
Harvey grins.
He reaches out and his fingertips brush against the front breast; he flattens out his palm against Mike's chest. There's a soft intake of breath from Mike.
His hand rolls to the skinny tie, runs the pads of his fingers across the fine silk. Tightens it ever so slightly, leaning in the necessary amount needed to properly ascertain the status of the pull. Everything is in working order. Mike's precisely even breathing floats across his cheek.
He snaps. All that restraint, what's got Harvey through the past few months, is suddenly nowhere to be found.
Harvey grabs the tie and pulls him out of the store, into the street, and into an alleyway, Mike stumbling along behind him the entire way. He pushes Mike up against the brick wall, and yanks his tie down to crash their lips together.
He can taste the alcohol from his own mouth in Mike's. But that's not what's so intoxicating.
Mike goes from still as a statue to winding his hands around Harvey's waist. Mike goes from giving him chaste, small kisses to thrusting his strong tongue into Harvey's open mouth. Mike goes from being pushed against the wall to stumbling forward and forcing Harvey against the wall across from it.
Harvey is just drunk enough to run his fingers through Mike's soft, downy hair with a gentleness he'd never admit to under oath. And it seems to spur Mike on. Mike thrusts his thigh in between Harvey's legs, and pushes upwards.
Harvey chokes out Mike's name, the back of his head hitting the brick as he tears away from Mike's lips. He groans and spills things that he'd never, ever say if he was sober, things that he'd always locked away with the intention to forget.
And Mike is gripping him tightly, making sure he doesn't go anywhere, biting and sucking at Harvey's neck like a man possessed. Still pumping his leg up between Harvey's legs, holding his hips in place. Harvey's hands wander desperately, down those perfectly sculpted arms down the back all the way to the ass.
And Mike is kissing him again, sloppily and hungrily. His thigh slams into Harvey again and again and again, and Harvey can't take it anymore, it's too much. He groans huskily one more time, his head arching back and mouth gaping open.
"Mike..." he breathes out into Mike's ear.
Mike shivers uncontrollably against him, letting out a groan of his own. He leans against Harvey limply after he's finished, and the two of them stand there, against the wall, Harvey wrapping Mike in his two arms to keep him from falling over.
They slide down together, to the ground.
Harvey is never this affectionate. He never runs his fingers softly through hair, never traces chins and lips with his thumb. Never kisses the closed eyelid, never brushes his eyelashes against the nose. It doesn't happen, because he's Harvey Spector, and the only affection he has is for himself.
Mike looks up at him blearily, a dazed half-smile across his face.
Bull fucking shit.
---
~fin
---
Fandom: Suits
Disclaimer: Suits owns me, not the other way around. Complete, utter ownage.
Pairing: Harvey/Mike (or, as I want to call it for humorous reasons, Marvey)
Rating: R
Warning: some kissing and getting off, foul language
Summary: Harvey Spector is convinced that he loves only one thing: himself. Until he realizes the evidence is overwhelmingly against him.
A/N: I should have fallen asleep hours ago. Instead, this. Enjoy it. I certainly do.
---
(exhibit a: shock value)
Harvey is sipping on his bitterly black coffee, taking his daily, leisurely cruise through the firm's cubicles to spy on the peons. He's a man of routine, but only to the point where he's unpredictable. Not unpredictable in the terrifying, insane way, but in the classy, intimidating way. Meaning he'll appear at people's stations unexpectedly with snappy, sarcastic remarks just because he can.
It's the part of the day when he's run out of steam from his second cup and can't quite ignore the dull buzz in the back of his mind that whines for more caffeine. Taking in the aroma of the stuff when he's like this is enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck and dilate his pupils.
Harvey's addicted to coffee, has been ever since Harvard. He doesn't know a single person at the firm who doesn't drink it. Whenever he looks around, which isn't often because Harvey is not a man to give attention to those who don't deserve it, there's always at least someone in his sights that has a cup in hand. He tips more coffee into his mouth and enjoys the instant zing of flavor shoot to his head.
He's on his way to his office, it's almost in sight, when he sees Mike at his cubicle crunching up a Red Bull can and tossing it over his shoulder. Harvey never jams on the brakes, he slows down and pulls into stops. He's right on the curb of Mike's cubicle when he reaches 0 mph.
Mike is cracking open another can of Red Bull as he pours over another file Harvey didn't give him. He hasn't noticed Harvey yet. His eyes are red-rimmed with impressively dark circles under them, but they're still honing in on the case lying before him with almost alarming intensity, flicking over words faster than Harvey could ever hope to read.
As Mike jerks up the can to take a long draught, Harvey is suddenly in his immediate sightline. He starts, chokes and sprays some of it onto the case-file. Harvey smirks.
"Word of advice: try not to spit on your cases." Harvey drinks from his cup. "Unless Louis gives them to you. Then feel free."
The engines start up again and Harvey is back to rolling his way down the avenue. He looks through his side-mirror - the reflective glass doors of someone else's office - to see Mike's reaction. Which is, as always, priceless. With that gaping mouth still dripping with some Red Bull, those wide, confused eyes, that mussed hair, that cocked head.
The Red Bull wasn't exactly a surprise, Harvey just wasn't expecting it. Like how Mike rides his bike to work and wears cheap suits even though he can afford a decent car and above average wardrobe. It isn't something Harvey would do, and it makes him curious. Harvey wonders if Mike drinks coffee. He wonders how he takes it. Would it be black and bitter like his, or full of cream and sugar? He seems more like a cream and sugar kind of guy.
That's when Harvey jams on the breaks, right in front of Donna. He can see himself in the door to his office, his cup frozen halfway to his mouth.
Harvey isn't a cream and sugar kind of guy.
But Mike seems like he might be.
Since when did Mike stop becoming something other than his reflection?
And since when did Harvey stop thinking it mattered?
Harvey takes a rare moment, right there in the exposed hallway, frozen in Drive, to contemplate the universe and how it isn't imploding.
"Harvey." Donna snaps her fingers. "Earth to Harvey."
He lowers his hand, which he then remembers is holding coffee, and raises it again to take a sizable shot. He nods over to her, tipping his cup to her in a silent cheers. "Donna."
Who raises a skeptical eyebrow in response. She doesn't say anything, and Harvey is glad about that because he doesn't think he can talk much at the moment; he doesn't know what he'd say, doesn't know how he'd sound, doesn't know if he should make something up or just blurt out what's on his mind.
He retreats to the oasis of his personal office, not to be disturbed, as usual. Looking out onto the city's skyline instead of the cases piling up on his desk, Harvey can only think of how his reflection, right there in front of him, frowning and gripping a cold coffee, is not Mike Ross.
---
(exhibit b: voluntary servitude)
Harvey is pacing in his office, talking on his phone. He knows that this is enough of a warning for Donna to ward off anyone from coming in. He also knows that the furious gestures that he's making are overkill in the signaling department. And they're not only visible to Donna, but to everyone else that walks by.
At the moment, he couldn't care less.
"Mister Feriat, your company is in no danger from what the witness has testified to. The entire rehearsed speech she gave was written by someone who hasn't studied law a day in their lives; it's full of holes and doesn't even corroborate the angle the prosecution is going for... No, trying to get this witness taken off the stand now hurts us more than it helps us. We can use this to our advantage, we can rip her apart on the stand and make them see how invalidated the entire scam is..."
Harvey rolls his eyes with an exasperated groan. "No it isn't ludicrous, it exposes the other side as blatantly untrustworthy... Yes, but that's irrelevant, just because she's got investment in your company doesn't lead to that..."
He gestures violently in the air as he listens to Feriat go on and on over bullshit. "Simply speaking, Mister Feriat, the case the prosecution has depends on this phony witness, and if we show that to the jury, their entire case will break down in the courtroom. And we don't want to settle for their terms or get that witness off the stand beforehand, because this is all about us timing everything exactly right. They're going to go to pieces and we need the jury to see that. By taking this girl off the stand, you'd be giving them a chance to find someone else, maybe even someone that could win it for them. We know we can win with this one. We know we can..."
Harvey sits down in his chair, spinning around to face the window and back again to face his desk. "Mister Feriat, I guarantee you that this case will be won."
The shouting on the other end of the line makes Harvey hold the receiver out for a moment until Feriat calms down. Harvey gnashes his teeth and rolls his eyes. For emphasis. "Mister Feriat, I understand where you're coming from. However, I have to disagree. And as your lawyer, I have the responsibility to do what I think is best for you as a client -"
He's cut off. He drums his fingers on the oak desk. It makes a fantastic sound that Harvey can't fully appreciate right now.
Suddenly, he stands up and resumes pacing again. One hand curls into a tight fist and wraps around to his back. "I agree that there is a legitimate claim to throw Miss Hinkle off the stand, and it would work. However, I must insist that we keep her exactly where she is and keep our cards close to our chest until the proper moment..."
The door opens just then, and a tiny knock echoes across the glass. Harvey turns his head, his eyes sparking halfway across the room, and Mike is there. Harvey jerks his head to the couches and turns back to the window. Mike takes a seat. Harvey's fist slides into his pocket.
"Mister Feriat, I am fully aware of legal repercussions for false witnesses..." Harvey starts pacing again, he's already forgotten that Mike is in the room. His voice is steadily getting louder. "And that is why - Mister Feriat - that is why - excuse me, excuse me, Mister Feriat, that is why we should wait to announce these claims until the trial date..."
Harvey grits his teeth, fuming. His shoes are leaving tracks in the previously immaculate carpet. He throws himself into his seat once more, and grabs his best fountain pen. He scribbles away, his hand oscillating over the smooth yellow legal pad, his knuckles pressing down so hard and his hand writing so quickly that it burns. He loops the last L with an angry jot of a flourish before throwing the pen back down on the desk.
"Mister Feriat," he says with deadly calm, punctuating every emphasized word with a fist slamming on the tabletop, "This. Is. How. It. Will. Be. Is that fully understood?"
There is a heavy silence.
"Good." Harvey clicks off the phone, sliding it back into his pocket.
Harvey holds his head up with one hand that covers his eyes.
There's the slight sound of a whistle coming from across the room, and Harvey's eyes shoot open as he remembers that Mike is there. Mike came in near the end. He heard most of it. And by 'it,' Harvey means his complete loss of composure. Harvey raises his head to see Mike staring at him.
Mike averts his eyes, looking around awkwardly. "...Sooo..."
Harvey sits back in his chair. His eyes are suddenly filled with fatigue. "So. What do you have for me, kid?" Even his voice sounds tired and hoarse. Probably from all that shouting. He massages one of his temples.
Mike shuffles over. "That one case, the one you wanted today? Like twenty minutes ago?" He tosses the file, which hits the desk with a satisfying slap. "The big one?"
"Ah, yes." Harvey picks it up, flips through the pages. There's a map of highlighting and circling and scribbling in all different colors of gel pens. He glances up at Mike's hands, and sees all sorts of blotches of yellow highlighter and green marker and pink gel pen. "What have you got for me?"
Mike grins. "The king of loopholes."
Harvey smirks. That loophole is like a miracle; the kid can come up with anything when Harvey needs him to. "Good boy. Now get out of here, skinny tie."
Mike straightens up with pride, lifting his chin up, adjusting his poor excuse for a tie, and grinning even wider. "Yessir, your excellency, sir." And he walks away.
Harvey eyes him on his way out.
Mike is staggering, unable to walk in a straight line. He's probably been here for over 24 hours. And he probably hasn't slept for a few days. And he certainly hasn't shaved in a week. And, Harvey adds unnecessarily, he has to have at least three other cases at the moment. From Louis, of course. And there was the dried trail of a forgotten tear staining his cheek, one that Mike clearly didn't know about.
Harvey stands up, leaning heavily on his desk with splayed hands and opened arms. Time to do something about that.
Donna calls after him, but he doesn't answer. This isn't an appointment.
He strides over to an office he doesn't usually visit. He nods past Norma, who doesn't stop him or question him. He tries to avoid her eyes. She always stares at him without ever blinking, and it creeps him out.
"Harvey, to what do I owe the suffering?" Louis sneers from his desk.
"Louis! How nice to see you!" Harvey puts on his best smug smile, just for him.
"Yeah, about as nice as the food poisoning I had this past Thanksgiving. What do you want, Harvey?"
Harvey sat on the edge of Louis' desk.
"Oh, I'm just here to tell you that the cases you've given Mike? They're not his anymore."
Louis snorts, his mouth curling into a disbelieving sneer. "Yeah, except there's nobody else to take them. All of my other guys?" Louis throws up his hands. "Completely overrun with paperwork. I've got nobody to spare, and I'm not taking it easy on anyone. Especially your little golden boy. Plus he's the only one who's taking on the pro bono cases. Can't switch them anywhere else." Louis smirked. If Harvey was going to get what he wanted, he'd have to bypass Louis, who had it out for Mike. And the only way to do that...
"I'm telling you..." Harvey leans forward meaningfully, his hands knitting together on his lap. "They aren't his anymore."
Louis' jaw dropped.
"Are you saying..." Louis' eyes flickered around him, before leaning in close. "Are you saying that you'll take on all of Mike's cases?"
Harvey inclines his head. His eyes don't change and he doesn't leap up and shout something like, 'Joke's on you!' No.
"Even the pro bono cases?"
Harvey nods again.
Louis laughs through his nose in disbelief. "Well. Can't say no to that." He throws up his hands again. "You've got them."
Harvey slides off the desk. "Make him transfer the files to you. You can hand them over to me yourself. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Louis grins. "Oh yes, I would enjoy that."
"You know where to find me."
Harvey makes to leave, but just as he reaches the door, Louis speaks again. It sounds like it just occurred to him, a question that baffles him.
"What's in this for you, exactly?"
Harvey turns, hands in his pockets. He quietly contemplates Louis for a moment.
He doesn't know. He has absolutely no idea how to answer that. He hasn't stopped to think about what's in it for him. And that is one of the most troubling things of all.
So he smirks. And says, "Pro bono cases, Louis. Don't they just give you a thrill?"
And he walks off.
---
(exhibit c: shifting priorities)
There isn't much to it, really. Harvey is out on the town at one of the most expensive restaurants in the world, and he's going to hit on a beautiful woman and they're both going to end up at his apartment. And that will be that. He's at one of the booths, nursing his drink with the reserve of a man who knows if he gets too drunk, he could spill on his tie. And Harvey never spills on his tie.
Ray is coming to pick him up in less than a half hour, so his timeframe is running out.
A woman's heels click up to him. He grins and turns to the side. Standing there is a woman he's never met before in his life. And she knows what she wants. And, once he runs his eyes up and down and all over her, he shrugs without shrugging.
"Harvey Spector's the name."
She sits down at the booth.
"Well, Mister Spector. Can I call you Harvey? I'm Emma. What do you do for a living that allows you to simmer in a bar for an hour drinking the same ridiculously priced drink?"
He grins at that. She's got some spunk. Harvey likes that. "Just your average lawyer." He takes another sip, watching her over the rim of the glass. She looks as if she's already raring to go. All it'll take is a few well-placed lines and his night will be set.
Just then, his phone rings.
He frowns. It's Mike. He holds up a finger. "Sorry, I have to take this." He stands, tosses a few bills onto the table, and walks out of the door of the bar. He's on the dark street, missing out on an evening of perfectly hot sex, just for this call. It had better be good.
"Mike?"
"Harrrrrrvey. Jus' the man I wanted to seeeeee..."
Mike is drunk out of his mind, Harvey knows that. He grins into the phone. "Mike. Where are you?"
"Hmmm, Harrrvey, you should come over... We'd have fuuun, just us two."
Harvey's eyes widen. "And how exactly would we have fun?" His mouth has suddenly gone very dry, and he licks his lips.
Mike giggles. "Don't hafta hide it, Harvey... I know you're as geeky as IIIII ammmm..."
Harvey cocks his head. "...What?"
"I rented Staaar Trek, just for tonight... I was plannin' on watchin' it allllll... But..." Harvey could almost hear the line of confusion crinkle on Mike's face. "I didn't wanna watch it aloooone, sooooo... I... called you, Harveyyy... I know you like Captain Kirk, he's the man, you said so, exact quote, he's the man." Mike giggles again. This time it's more nervous than ecstatic. "Sooo... Wanna come over?? I got pizza, and, uh, lots of beer..."
Harvey is silent for a moment.
"And I know, the beer isn't as... good as, like, whatever you like to drink most of the time or whatever, it's like the cheapest beer money can buy and stuff, so I'd toooootally get it if you were all, like, no and everything."
There's a silence on the other end of the line; Mike is waiting for a response.
To Harvey, there's no other option. But he still sighs like it's the most annoying thing in the world and that he's being forced against his will to perform an act so repulsive that he'd rather rip his tie into little pieces.
"Ray picks me up in less than twenty minutes. Where should I tell him to go?"
He can feel Mike beaming. It's amazing to him that he can pick up on Mike's emotions so clearly, even over the phone.
Harvey Spector does not beam. Especially just because he can somehow sense that someone else is beaming.
Okay, dammit, he's beaming.
---
(exhibit d: breaking point)
It's his own fault, of course. He should have done this months ago.
After what seems like forever, all of Harvey's patience has finally cracked, and here he is, dragging Mike behind him by his skinny tie. He throws Mike into the car, and tells Ray to step on it.
They arrive at Rene's place in less than five minutes. Rene is so happy to see Harvey - until he sees Mike in tow. His face falls faster than Louis' stress balls being thrown at the floor.
Harvey jerks a thumb at the mess behind him. "You're the best. Fix it."
Rene's head dips for a moment, gathering a breath for strength. He straightens with a tight smile. "As you wish, Mister Spector."
Mike's dragged into the back. Harvey falls into a waiting chair, and Rene's assistant Natalie hands him a glass of cognac immediately. He thanks her. She goes to the battlefield.
He waits for the longest time. Every so often he hears raised voices and loud footsteps and ripping fabric and Natalie races out to grab another suit from the rack. It's the most intense scene he's ever seen here, and that's saying something.
He finishes up his drink and lays it on the counter. He sits back down, checks his phone. There's a text message that pops up almost immediately. It's from Mike.
I think Rene might be clinically insane
Harvey snorts, but he types hey, that's my suit-man you're talking about.
Yeah, and he's ripping them apart once he sees them on me.
Maybe it isn't him. Maybe it's you. I've seen you wear suits before, remember?
Harsh. My feelings are hurt
Harvey laughs.
And it's not like you've ever ripped a suit off me
That particular text makes Harvey raise an eyebrow with a smirk. i understand where the man is coming from, hell, anyone with eyes would want to rip suits off you
And there's a suitable stretch of time where Harvey doesn't get any more texts.
Then, finally: there shouldn't be so many rules for wearing suits, seriously. But we're almost done... i think
Harvey's slightly disappointed that there wasn't a direct response, but he reminds himself that sometimes the silences speak louder than words. good, i'm getting tipsy out here from all the shots i shouldn't hvae had time to drink
drunkard
my personal btich
...drunkard
Natalie came out from the back, her eyes exhausted but her face practically glowing in triumph. "Your associate, Mister Ross, has been taken care of."
"Thanks, Miss Natalie." Harvey smiles headily. Maybe he shouldn't have kept on drinking the shots Natalie had provided for him every so often. He's on a happy buzz, one that means he can't fully control himself. He wasn't lying to Mike when he said he'd gotten tipsy.
He hands over his card, and she takes care of all the payment immediately, whisking his card out of sight and back in less than a minute. He signs, skipping over the price. He doesn't need to see it.
What he wants to see? He can't wait for Mike to come out and show him his new suit.
And Rene finally comes out with a flourish, introducing Mike by name. Harvey's complete attention is there. The curtain is brushed aside, and a freshly-fitted Mike comes walking through.
It's enough for Harvey's jaw, which is always impeccably, smugly braced, to drop.
The fit is more than perfect. It's absolutely dirty. It's obscene. But Harvey can't tear his eyes away from the amazingly styled man before him. From the hair style to the cufflinks, Mike's entire wardrobe has been redone. And it's perfect. The fabric shifts around Mike's body like water dripping down a lily. The soft curves Mike had once bragged about were put into focus, leaving nothing to the imagination about the perfectly sculpted thighs and biceps that are thrown into sharp relief whenever he moves them the slightest bit. And the pinstripes are threaded gold, standing out from the dark, deep blue of the suit. The tie is still skinny. At this point, Harvey couldn't picture him in any other type of tie. But the colors in it throw him for a loop, with their perfect complements to the suit itself as well as the shoes. Which are a smooth leather that perfectly slope down the curve of Mike's feet.
Mike is the most stunning Harvey has ever seen him. And Harvey is tipsy. This can't be good, he thinks dimly.
Mike moves to adjust his tie, quirking his eyebrow and his lip into a sarcastic smirk.
And that's it.
Harvey is completely, totally, irrevocably in love.
He stares some more.
"What do you think?" asks Mike.
Harvey chugs down the remainder of his shot, and stands up. He makes a beeline for Rene and grabs his hands, which are still shaking.
"Rene." Harvey is one hundred percent serious. "This is the best work I've ever seen you do."
Rene looks like he's about to cry from happiness. "Harvey... I can't believe it... I... We..."
Harvey closes his eyes and nods. "You did it."
Rene breaks down, sobbing. Natalie joins in, hugging Rene from the back.
Harvey turns back to Mike, who's watching them with no small amount of hilarity. He steps up to him slowly, unable to help himself from casting his eyes all over the package in front of him.
"Mike..." he breathes out. Harvey licks his lips unconsciously.
He doesn't know what to do or say from here. He just knows what he wants, finally, but he doesn't know how to get it.
Not yet, anyway.
"Harvey." Mike nods flippantly. He studies Harvey for a moment, his eyes flicking across his face.
Harvey casts his sights around for Rene and Natalie, and they're both back over there, hugging and crying with joy. "Rene, we're taking off. Thanks... for everything."
"Anything for you, Mr. Spector."
Harvey grins.
He reaches out and his fingertips brush against the front breast; he flattens out his palm against Mike's chest. There's a soft intake of breath from Mike.
His hand rolls to the skinny tie, runs the pads of his fingers across the fine silk. Tightens it ever so slightly, leaning in the necessary amount needed to properly ascertain the status of the pull. Everything is in working order. Mike's precisely even breathing floats across his cheek.
He snaps. All that restraint, what's got Harvey through the past few months, is suddenly nowhere to be found.
Harvey grabs the tie and pulls him out of the store, into the street, and into an alleyway, Mike stumbling along behind him the entire way. He pushes Mike up against the brick wall, and yanks his tie down to crash their lips together.
He can taste the alcohol from his own mouth in Mike's. But that's not what's so intoxicating.
Mike goes from still as a statue to winding his hands around Harvey's waist. Mike goes from giving him chaste, small kisses to thrusting his strong tongue into Harvey's open mouth. Mike goes from being pushed against the wall to stumbling forward and forcing Harvey against the wall across from it.
Harvey is just drunk enough to run his fingers through Mike's soft, downy hair with a gentleness he'd never admit to under oath. And it seems to spur Mike on. Mike thrusts his thigh in between Harvey's legs, and pushes upwards.
Harvey chokes out Mike's name, the back of his head hitting the brick as he tears away from Mike's lips. He groans and spills things that he'd never, ever say if he was sober, things that he'd always locked away with the intention to forget.
And Mike is gripping him tightly, making sure he doesn't go anywhere, biting and sucking at Harvey's neck like a man possessed. Still pumping his leg up between Harvey's legs, holding his hips in place. Harvey's hands wander desperately, down those perfectly sculpted arms down the back all the way to the ass.
And Mike is kissing him again, sloppily and hungrily. His thigh slams into Harvey again and again and again, and Harvey can't take it anymore, it's too much. He groans huskily one more time, his head arching back and mouth gaping open.
"Mike..." he breathes out into Mike's ear.
Mike shivers uncontrollably against him, letting out a groan of his own. He leans against Harvey limply after he's finished, and the two of them stand there, against the wall, Harvey wrapping Mike in his two arms to keep him from falling over.
They slide down together, to the ground.
Harvey is never this affectionate. He never runs his fingers softly through hair, never traces chins and lips with his thumb. Never kisses the closed eyelid, never brushes his eyelashes against the nose. It doesn't happen, because he's Harvey Spector, and the only affection he has is for himself.
Mike looks up at him blearily, a dazed half-smile across his face.
Bull fucking shit.
---
~fin
---