( o13 ) these hands
pairing; harvey/mike
prompt; here at the kinkmeme; originally posted anonymously here.
rating; pg for about one curse word.
author's note & disclaimer; i feel like i should apologize for this disaster. but these boys, omg. title from deerhunter. still not my toys. 1689 words.
The first time it happens, it is one hundred percent Not A Big Deal.
New York City is a crowded place, okay, and weaving in and out of hoards of tourists while trying to carry a very important conversation concerning a client who is pretty essential to their firm is not easy, at all. Really, Harvey needs Mike to keep by his side, so they can discuss the case without any interruptions, without any hesitation. Harvey needs a continuous, if one-sided, discussion, not one that Mike will only hear half of if he's busy beating his way through stubborn asshole pedestrians set on ruining his life. Mike needs all the facts, if he's going to be of any help to Harvey at all. He needs to hear every fucking word that Harvey says, really.
And Harvey is not going to lose a case, not going to lose a client, because his associate is being trampled by some dirty hipster on a dirtier bicycle.
So he reaches back, grips Mike by the wrist, and drags him along. And then he realizes that Mike will probably really need that hand later on to highlight anything essential that Harvey might have missed, and he won't be able to use it if Harvey has cut off circulation to his wrist, so he drops his deathgrip to Mike's spindly, awkwardly-useless,-what-do-I-do-with-these, dangling fingers, and twines them, because it will be very easy for Harvey to tug on his fingers if he starts to get lost in the crowd, and he really needs Mike to hear every word.
Mike doesn't say anything, if he even notices; he's busy firing off incredibly naïve questions at Harvey, but at least now he's keeping close enough that the conversation has become much easier to have at increasingly lower volumes. Which is good, because Harvey would rather save his voice for trial, if it comes to that, than screaming at his associate over rush hour traffic and idiots with Bluetooth headsets.
Down the street from the bar they're meeting the client at, a middle aged woman coos at them and not-so-subtly asks them for how long they've been in a relationship.
Mike blushes, stutters, and only just then really realizes that their hands are still knotted together, though they had turned off of the busier road moments ago and the crowds of people on the sidestreet the bar is on have thinned out considerably. Harvey smirks at the woman and drops Mike's clammy hand, brings his palm up to rest on the nape of Mike's neck, and says, "Almost a year."
The stunned look on Mike's face is definitely worth it.
*
The second time is maybe a slightly bigger deal.
Mike is trying to get Harvey's attention. Like, he needs Harvey's attention, completely focused on him, maybe just for a moment, butimmediately would be best.
Harvey is busy trying to decide on a record from the extensive collection in his office, and Mike is a little worried that Louis might have just found out his secret, and he really needs Harvey to listen to him now if he wants to keep Mike employed as his associate, which he probably does, because everyone else looking for this job pales in comparison.
Mike gets no response at all when he taps him on the shoulder, and a minutely visible wince, but not much else, when he threatens to touch his basketballs.
"Harvey, really, I swear to God. I will stab your most prized basketball with an incredibly dull knife until the air is drained out of it completely, if you do not turn around and help me out, right now."
Mike is maybe getting a little desperate in his pleas, and in a last ditch effort that he knows will get him absolutely nowhere, he grabs Harvey's bicep in a fierce grip and shoves at him, tries to turn him around to look at him. His efforts, as expected, go unrewarded, and he is about to just give up and accept his fate of certain death. He turns on his heel exasperatedly and makes to walk out of Harvey's glass office door, when he feels a light pressure on his wrist, and then a slightly firmer pressure on his palm, and then there are fingers closing around his and he may not have expected that to happen, but he knows better than to argue with or pull away from his employer and boss.
"Stop being so dramatic, puppy. If Louis knew, he would have immediately thrown it in my face, because when it comes to our work relationship, he is much less mature than he likes to pretend he is." He squeezes Mike's fingers where they're wrapped tightly in his own and drags his fingertips feather-light across Mike's knuckles before he let's his arm fall back in line with his side. "Now unless you have those briefs I asked you to finish three hours ago, I suggest you get back to work and ignore any and all attempts at intimidation on Louis' part. Believe me, myself and Jessica are the only two people in this office you should fear. Maybe Donna."
Mike steadfastly ignores the lingering warmth around his wrist and the tingly feeling in his hand as he sees himself out of Harvey's office. It's probably just the leftover adrenaline from the rush of almost being found out, after all. Probably.
*
The third time, Harvey requires Mike's company down in the basement; he needs help looking for a document and doesn't trust any of the paralegals or secretaries or any other assistants to fetch it for him.
He walks to Mike's cubicle and tugs him up by the hand that's not highlighting a phone number, Mike's headphones catching on a cup of coffee and leaving him bent over the desk to avoid an incident involving hot liquids spilled all over his desk and/or important papers and/or shiny, expensive, courtesy-of-Harvey's-wallet-and-or-obsession-with-image pants.
Mike takes his headphones out and follows without question, and Harvey doesn't drop his hand from where it's currently launching an attack on Mike's, curling around Mike's fingers. He tightens them and winds their digits together like octopus legs, until their hands are a messy knot of knuckles and fingernails and wrists and Mike is not sure what belongs to who any more; he just knows that his palm feels cool and empty when they reach the basement and Harvey lets go of his hand to pull out stacks of Manila folders and clipboards.
*
The fourth time, Harvey insists Mike accompany him to meet a client at a jazzy, dimly-lit, five-star restaurant downtown, a restaurant that reminds Mike of the kinds of places lawyers and Wall Street employees would bring their wives to for anniversaries and important birthdays. The kinds of places people bring important people to to impress them.
The place is filled with men with too much money, and Mike needs a glass of wine or maybe four, and Harvey is paying, and the client is late, so he orders a glass and tries not to look or feel too out of place.
By the time the meeting is over, Mike is three and a half glasses of overly expensive wine down and he isn't a lightweight but he was too nervous to eat, and work leaves him too busy to eat during the day, so he's a little tipsy on the walk out, and luckily, the client has already left, so if Mike sways a little on his feet getting up, at least the client won't be put off.
Harvey has Ray waiting outside, and instead of pushing Mike to walk around to the other side of the towncar, he slides in first and holds his hand out to help Mike balance enough to pull himself into the car.
Harvey keeps their fingers tangled together on the ride to Mike's apartment, and when they reach it, Harvey gets out first and opens Mike's door for him, helps him stumble out of the car without falling over onto the pavement. He walks Mike to the elevator, to his door, and the whole thing feels like a date, and Mike is so confused that he has a nightcap in the form of two shots of whisky.
He attributes the tingling in his fingers to his blood alcohol content and passes out on the couch before he can put too much thought into it.
*
The next time it happens in the office, again.
Mike is at his cubicle, staring at something highlighted on a piece of paper on his desk that could possibly mean big trouble for a potential client. Harvey walks by, and before he can stop himself, Mike reaches out for Harvey's wrist to pull him down to look and he ends up with a palm full of fingers. Harvey drags his fingers down and settles them between Mike's like a cat's cradle, and leans down to look at the paper in question.
*
Mike sort of loses track of how often it happens after that, until whenever they're walking together and their hands bump, knotting them together is just sort of a natural progression that follows. It's almost careless, the ease with which they fit their palms and tangle their fingers together; how quick Harvey is to press his hand against Mike's when they're looking for a file in the basement, how shyly Mike tucks his hand into Harvey's when it's eleven at night and everyone's left the office but them, when he's sitting on the floor of Harvey's office with a lapful of briefs, and Harvey is sitting next to him and there's a pizza going cold on the table.
Mike never pulls his hand away and Harvey never says anything about it and everyone else knows better than to say anything, and it's sort of weird, but Harvey's hands are warm and paper-worn and ink-stained and soft because he is the type of man who moisturizes and Mike likes his hands.
It should all be very weird, but it just sort of flows, naturally, and it would be weird for them to stop.
prompt; here at the kinkmeme; originally posted anonymously here.
rating; pg for about one curse word.
author's note & disclaimer; i feel like i should apologize for this disaster. but these boys, omg. title from deerhunter. still not my toys. 1689 words.
The first time it happens, it is one hundred percent Not A Big Deal.
New York City is a crowded place, okay, and weaving in and out of hoards of tourists while trying to carry a very important conversation concerning a client who is pretty essential to their firm is not easy, at all. Really, Harvey needs Mike to keep by his side, so they can discuss the case without any interruptions, without any hesitation. Harvey needs a continuous, if one-sided, discussion, not one that Mike will only hear half of if he's busy beating his way through stubborn asshole pedestrians set on ruining his life. Mike needs all the facts, if he's going to be of any help to Harvey at all. He needs to hear every fucking word that Harvey says, really.
And Harvey is not going to lose a case, not going to lose a client, because his associate is being trampled by some dirty hipster on a dirtier bicycle.
So he reaches back, grips Mike by the wrist, and drags him along. And then he realizes that Mike will probably really need that hand later on to highlight anything essential that Harvey might have missed, and he won't be able to use it if Harvey has cut off circulation to his wrist, so he drops his deathgrip to Mike's spindly, awkwardly-useless,-what-do-I-do-with-these, dangling fingers, and twines them, because it will be very easy for Harvey to tug on his fingers if he starts to get lost in the crowd, and he really needs Mike to hear every word.
Mike doesn't say anything, if he even notices; he's busy firing off incredibly naïve questions at Harvey, but at least now he's keeping close enough that the conversation has become much easier to have at increasingly lower volumes. Which is good, because Harvey would rather save his voice for trial, if it comes to that, than screaming at his associate over rush hour traffic and idiots with Bluetooth headsets.
Down the street from the bar they're meeting the client at, a middle aged woman coos at them and not-so-subtly asks them for how long they've been in a relationship.
Mike blushes, stutters, and only just then really realizes that their hands are still knotted together, though they had turned off of the busier road moments ago and the crowds of people on the sidestreet the bar is on have thinned out considerably. Harvey smirks at the woman and drops Mike's clammy hand, brings his palm up to rest on the nape of Mike's neck, and says, "Almost a year."
The stunned look on Mike's face is definitely worth it.
*
The second time is maybe a slightly bigger deal.
Mike is trying to get Harvey's attention. Like, he needs Harvey's attention, completely focused on him, maybe just for a moment, butimmediately would be best.
Harvey is busy trying to decide on a record from the extensive collection in his office, and Mike is a little worried that Louis might have just found out his secret, and he really needs Harvey to listen to him now if he wants to keep Mike employed as his associate, which he probably does, because everyone else looking for this job pales in comparison.
Mike gets no response at all when he taps him on the shoulder, and a minutely visible wince, but not much else, when he threatens to touch his basketballs.
"Harvey, really, I swear to God. I will stab your most prized basketball with an incredibly dull knife until the air is drained out of it completely, if you do not turn around and help me out, right now."
Mike is maybe getting a little desperate in his pleas, and in a last ditch effort that he knows will get him absolutely nowhere, he grabs Harvey's bicep in a fierce grip and shoves at him, tries to turn him around to look at him. His efforts, as expected, go unrewarded, and he is about to just give up and accept his fate of certain death. He turns on his heel exasperatedly and makes to walk out of Harvey's glass office door, when he feels a light pressure on his wrist, and then a slightly firmer pressure on his palm, and then there are fingers closing around his and he may not have expected that to happen, but he knows better than to argue with or pull away from his employer and boss.
"Stop being so dramatic, puppy. If Louis knew, he would have immediately thrown it in my face, because when it comes to our work relationship, he is much less mature than he likes to pretend he is." He squeezes Mike's fingers where they're wrapped tightly in his own and drags his fingertips feather-light across Mike's knuckles before he let's his arm fall back in line with his side. "Now unless you have those briefs I asked you to finish three hours ago, I suggest you get back to work and ignore any and all attempts at intimidation on Louis' part. Believe me, myself and Jessica are the only two people in this office you should fear. Maybe Donna."
Mike steadfastly ignores the lingering warmth around his wrist and the tingly feeling in his hand as he sees himself out of Harvey's office. It's probably just the leftover adrenaline from the rush of almost being found out, after all. Probably.
*
The third time, Harvey requires Mike's company down in the basement; he needs help looking for a document and doesn't trust any of the paralegals or secretaries or any other assistants to fetch it for him.
He walks to Mike's cubicle and tugs him up by the hand that's not highlighting a phone number, Mike's headphones catching on a cup of coffee and leaving him bent over the desk to avoid an incident involving hot liquids spilled all over his desk and/or important papers and/or shiny, expensive, courtesy-of-Harvey's-wallet-and-or-obsession-with-image pants.
Mike takes his headphones out and follows without question, and Harvey doesn't drop his hand from where it's currently launching an attack on Mike's, curling around Mike's fingers. He tightens them and winds their digits together like octopus legs, until their hands are a messy knot of knuckles and fingernails and wrists and Mike is not sure what belongs to who any more; he just knows that his palm feels cool and empty when they reach the basement and Harvey lets go of his hand to pull out stacks of Manila folders and clipboards.
*
The fourth time, Harvey insists Mike accompany him to meet a client at a jazzy, dimly-lit, five-star restaurant downtown, a restaurant that reminds Mike of the kinds of places lawyers and Wall Street employees would bring their wives to for anniversaries and important birthdays. The kinds of places people bring important people to to impress them.
The place is filled with men with too much money, and Mike needs a glass of wine or maybe four, and Harvey is paying, and the client is late, so he orders a glass and tries not to look or feel too out of place.
By the time the meeting is over, Mike is three and a half glasses of overly expensive wine down and he isn't a lightweight but he was too nervous to eat, and work leaves him too busy to eat during the day, so he's a little tipsy on the walk out, and luckily, the client has already left, so if Mike sways a little on his feet getting up, at least the client won't be put off.
Harvey has Ray waiting outside, and instead of pushing Mike to walk around to the other side of the towncar, he slides in first and holds his hand out to help Mike balance enough to pull himself into the car.
Harvey keeps their fingers tangled together on the ride to Mike's apartment, and when they reach it, Harvey gets out first and opens Mike's door for him, helps him stumble out of the car without falling over onto the pavement. He walks Mike to the elevator, to his door, and the whole thing feels like a date, and Mike is so confused that he has a nightcap in the form of two shots of whisky.
He attributes the tingling in his fingers to his blood alcohol content and passes out on the couch before he can put too much thought into it.
*
The next time it happens in the office, again.
Mike is at his cubicle, staring at something highlighted on a piece of paper on his desk that could possibly mean big trouble for a potential client. Harvey walks by, and before he can stop himself, Mike reaches out for Harvey's wrist to pull him down to look and he ends up with a palm full of fingers. Harvey drags his fingers down and settles them between Mike's like a cat's cradle, and leans down to look at the paper in question.
*
Mike sort of loses track of how often it happens after that, until whenever they're walking together and their hands bump, knotting them together is just sort of a natural progression that follows. It's almost careless, the ease with which they fit their palms and tangle their fingers together; how quick Harvey is to press his hand against Mike's when they're looking for a file in the basement, how shyly Mike tucks his hand into Harvey's when it's eleven at night and everyone's left the office but them, when he's sitting on the floor of Harvey's office with a lapful of briefs, and Harvey is sitting next to him and there's a pizza going cold on the table.
Mike never pulls his hand away and Harvey never says anything about it and everyone else knows better than to say anything, and it's sort of weird, but Harvey's hands are warm and paper-worn and ink-stained and soft because he is the type of man who moisturizes and Mike likes his hands.
It should all be very weird, but it just sort of flows, naturally, and it would be weird for them to stop.