AbsentMindedCrow
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Summary
Drunken flirting in Atlantic City reveals far more than Mike and Harvey intended. The line has finally been crossed, and now it's down to one of them to make the first move...
Now, every touch lingers too long, every glance burns too hot, and jealousy simmers beneath the surface. What starts as playful teasing spirals into desperate need. Before they know it, Mike and Harvey are faced with revealing the truth, or lying to the firm, and to themselves.
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Harvey Specter doesn’t do emotions. He does control. He does power. He does winning. But he doesn’t do emotions, not the messy kind, not the kind that sneak up on you in the middle of the night and certainly not the kind that make you break down in front of someone else.
That’s why, when Mike—brilliant, irritating, loyal Mike—wraps his arms around him in the doorway of his condo at one in the morning, Harvey expects to do what he always does. Brush it off. Laugh. Crack a joke. Something.
Except he doesn’t.
Instead, something inside him breaks.
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Or, Mike hugs a touch-starved Harvey—how else could it end but with a kiss? -
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"I’m not looking for something serious," Harvey said, voice low.
"Good," Mike said, folding his arms in mirror to Harvey’s. "Neither am I."
Harvey raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, we just need to get it out of our systems, right?" Mike’s mouth quirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "One day. Just one. We see what this is, realize it’s not as big a deal as it feels, and move on."
Harvey’s chest ached. He didn’t let it show. "A one-day dating experiment."
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Or, Mike and Harvey agree to date for exactly one day so that they can get over their respective crushes on the other, a flawless plan, right? -
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I’m saying this…not to reprimand you— you’re not in any trouble—“ he sighs, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been off this past week. People are worried.”
Dennis takes a step back, flexing his hands.
”I’m—“
He swallows, keeping his breath steady.
He feels like he’s under a microscope; the thought that everybody can see what’s wrong with him, can tell what he’s done— it makes bile crawl up his throat.
Why can’t he just fucking speak?
Tell Doctor Robby what happened a few years back, the phone call from his parents back home—
what he did.
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“It’s pretty simple, really,” said Harvey. “This group convenes here at ten o'clock on the first Friday of every month. We play poker – dealer’s choice – for the next four hours. We play for money, but to make things more interesting, the overall winner of the night also takes home the jackpot.”
Mike glanced around the table, but found no clues forthcoming, so he asked, “Jackpot?”
“Haven’t you guessed yet? That would be you.”
Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came out.