Chapter Text
iii. baby
Harvey usually doesn’t drink enough to feel it.
A few drinks in celebration of (or to commiserate) a case, with a client or with Mike, sure. He usually only has enough to take the edge off, to loosen up.
One thing he did not get (at least not anymore) was drunk. That was Mike’s thing.
Well, tonight that changed. In hindsight, the memory was fuzzy. Blurred around the edges as it happened when you had a few more drinks too many. It started with Marcus being in town. With the promise of “a quick drink to catch up after work” – the idea of spending a rare night out with his brother too good to pass up. For old times’ sake and all that.
As it happened, one drink turned into another one and finally a tour through half of the bars within walking distance. They had a good time, talking about everything and nothing at once. Soon they were trading stories about their lives. About baseball, their dad, stories from their childhood and about the time when thirteen-year-old Harvey had that terrible haircut.
Much to Marcus’s delight, he even managed to pull a few details about Mike out of his brother. In return, he shared stories about the kids and Haley’s latest obsession with horses, causing Harvey to promise to buy her a pony the next time he visited.
Somewhere between the second drink and the fourth, Harvey stopped checking his watch. By the time the bartender announced last call and they stumbled outside into the night, the city lights were too bright and the air felt cold against their flushed skin.
After a quick stop at a taco cart Harvey would never even think about getting food from when he was sober, he dropped Marcus off at his hotel, promising to shoot him a text when he was home. Luckily his apartment was only a few blocks away and he soon stumbled into his building’s elevator, feeling loose-limbed and warm, the world spinning a little as he leaned back against the mirrored walls.
The ride up to his apartment felt longer than usual, the soft hum of the elevator filling the otherwise quiet space. Harvey couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light. For once there were no thoughts about work, Louis, his mother or any other unpleasantries. Just that fuzzy feeling, like his head was wrapped in cotton, promising an unpleasant morning – but that was too far away to be worried about right now.
His phone buzzed in his pocket – a text from Marcus.
Home safe?
He grinned to himself, squinting at the screen to make the letters stay in place.
Wow, he was really this drunk.
Somehow, he managed to text back a quick Just got home. Almost upstairs before the elevator announced his floor with a soft chime.
Opening the door of his condo felt like a small challenge, but he finally managed to get his key into the lock and enter.
Harvey was surprised to see his apartment dimly lit, the TV playing some game show in the background.
Mike was still awake, curled into a corner of the couch, laptop perched on his bent knees with his eyes glued to the screen. His head lifted at the sound of the door opening, the sounds of fumbling with the lock a dead giveaway to his boyfriend’s current state.
Then he took in Harvey’s appearance: cheeks flushed, shirt a little disheveled, the hair that had been perfect as always in the morning, a far cry from the perfectly styled coif he left the apartment with. In other words: he was a mess.
It didn’t help that Harvey was bracing himself against the wall with one hand, the other trying (and failing) to throw the keys into the bowl on the counter. “Wow,” Mike grinned, unable to stop the laugh spreading across his face. “You are so drunk!”
He watched as Harvey clumsily took off his shoes, coat landing on the nearest bar stool while he was at it.
This was going to be good.
Harvey just smiled at him bemused, like he didn’t hear a single word Mike just said. Instead, he made his way over to the couch, flopping down onto him before the younger man even had the chance to get up – only managing to put his laptop down on the floor before his boyfriend’s drunkenness claimed an innocent victim.
“Hi, baby,” Harvey murmured, voice muffled in Mike’s hoodie, words slightly slurred – and completely unaware of what he just said.
Mike froze for a moment, arms tightening around Harvey’s frame. It seemed like however many drinks he’d had were apparently enough to turn his emotionally stunted boyfriend into a sappy mess. He couldn’t wait to tell Donna about this!
“I missed you” Harvey added, now a boneless mass against Mike’s chest. Then: “You’re warm. Is’ cold outside, y’know?”
Mike let out a soft huff of laughter, one hand gently combing through the hair at Harvey’s nape. “You were only gone for, like, four hours. How many drinks did you have, Harv?”
“Y’ know I don’t get drunk.”
“I’d believe you if you didn’t smell like a distillery right now. Did you at least have fun?”
A moment passed, Harvey letting out a long exhale.
“I did. Forgot how much fun Marcus could be. Did y’ know that Haley wants a pony? Gonna buy her one when we visit next time.”
Mike let out a soft laugh, relief overtaking him for a moment. He knew about Harvey’s often strained relationship with his brother – making him even more glad that he had enjoyed himself tonight. He deserved it.
He shifted a little, pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it over them before going back to slowly rubbing up and down Harvey’s back. Who was he to deny himself the blessing of a cuddle session with his uncharacteristically touchy (and more than slightly drunk) boyfriend?
They lay like that for a while, Harvey’s leftover energy fading fast. When Mike was sure that his boyfriend was about to fall asleep right there and then, he carefully tried to sit up, jostling Harvey the human octopus in the process.
“Noo baby” Harvey mumbled, “Let’s just stay here, okay?”
Somehow this openness gave him a completely different look. Gone was the man who kept his feelings hidden behind an armor of Tom Ford and confidence. He was softer now, vulnerable in a way Mike was sure only a handful of people had ever gotten to see him.
Mike huffed a fond, quiet laugh at this, leaving a quick kiss on the older man’s forehead. Harvey would not remember any of this in the morning. He was sure of it.
“We are not sleeping on the couch” Mike whispered. “You need a glass of water, Advil and a bed with real pillows on it. Our backs are going to hate us tomorrow if we stay here.”
Somehow, he managed to get Harvey up and into the bathroom, depositing him on the bed afterwards while he fetched a cold glass of water from the kitchen.
When he came back, Harvey had apparently used up his remaining energy on undressing and climbing under the covers, face buried in Mike’s pillow. And when he finally fell asleep, wrapped around Mike (usually it was the other way around), Harvey’s last conscious thought was that if this was what being looked after could feel like, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Drunk or not, if this was the way he could fall asleep for the rest of his life, he would gladly take it.