Work Text:
july
-
Harvey clicks open an email from someone he assumes is a client and reads "remember that hot chick i told you about? i finally got up the nerve to ask her out and get this: turns out she's a lesbian" before he scrolls back up and realises the sender is oh, that Trevor. Mike's Trevor.
The email, in full, reads "remember that hot chick i told you about? i finally got up the nerve to ask her out and get this: turns out she's a lesbian and she has a steady girlfriend. guess that's not gonna happen. but on the bright side, i met her girlfriend yesterday and she's smokin. at least i have something nice to think about when im jerking it. the weather hasn't changed, and there isn't a whole lot to do other than jerk it. my boss put me on two twelve-hour shifts next week cause he's a dick, but i get paid time and a half for overtime so i can't complain. i went to the bar with a few co-workers but they were boring as shit and most of them are married so no one even wanted to be my wingman. wish you were here to look completely lame next to me so girls will notice how much cooler i am in comparison."
There's nothing whatsoever to indicate why Harvey needed to know any of that about Trevor's life in any detail. He scrolls up again to check the email header, and sees that it's actually sent to Mike and BCCed to him. So Trevor wants Harvey to know that he and Mike are keeping in touch, then. Maybe it's a power move, to show how Trevor's still in Mike's life even though he's in Montana and nothing Harvey can do can tear them asunder. Or whatever.
Harvey rolls his eyes and deletes the email. It's embarrassing that he knows someone like Trevor even tangentially. He thinks about blocking the sender, but Mike's bad habits have a history of coming back to bite them in the ass and it's a better idea to keep tabs on Trevor in case he ever needs to contact him.
It takes him longer than it should to forget all about the email, though.
august
-
When Harvey gets another email from Trevor, he's tempted to just delete it without reading. There's no subject title, and a cursory glance shows that it's sent only to him this time. Harvey can't imagine a universe in which he cares what Trevor has to say to him, but he does the responsible thing and reads it, just in case it's a warning that Trevor has somehow managed to get himself tangled up with the yakuza or something.
"me and mike went through a james bond phase when we were little," Trevor begins without preamble. "our favorites were the timothy dalton ones, which like 99% of people don't even remember. we almost wore out my dad's vcr with how many times we watched "license to kill", and technically we weren't even allowed to watch it because it had too much violence. mike would come for a sleepover and we'd put the video in after everyone was asleep, and watch it with the sound turned down real low. we didn't need to hear it, anyway, since we pretty much had all the lines memorized. whenever we pretended to be james bond mike flat out refused to play the villain, because he said he couldn't be the one that hurts people, even for pretend. i would always be the bad guy just so we could get on with our game. i guess it didn't matter to me."
Harvey's pretty sure it's a power move to demonstrate how Trevor knows Mike in a way Harvey never will. It's childish and inane and Harvey has a fairly long mental list of more important things he could've done with the two minutes he spent reading the email.
But it's obvious that Trevor has wormed his way into Harvey's brain somehow, like a terrible parasite, because a week later when Jessica tells all the partners that a client has given the firm some tickets to the premier of the new Bond film and whoever wants to go can ask her, Harvey remembers the email. Harvey remembers that Mike is a fan.
He requests two tickets and Jessica tilts her head slightly at him.
"I thought you didn't like Bond," she says.
He doesn't. He thinks the witticisms are weak, he isn't impressed by the wardrobe, and he likes his American heroes. It's no use lying to Jessica, because it's Jessica, so Harvey mumbles "They're for Mike" as quickly as he can and hopes she'll just let it go.
She doesn't, because she's Jessica. She spends quite a while laughing at him and his lousy façade of not caring about his associate, but she eventually hands him the tickets and waves him out of her office. "Go on, get outta here. I have real work to do, I can't have you spreading softness and compassion in my office."
He grimaces at her through her glass walls.
After hours on a Friday night, when he's reasonably sure even the most diehard go-getters have left, Harvey sneaks down to Mike's cubicle. He means to put the pair of Bond premier tickets on Mike's desk, but his hand hovers in hesitation and he thinks, "Jesus fucking Christ, what am I doing?"
Harvey Specter doesn't leave presents for underlings for no reason. Mike hasn't done anything spectacular lately, aside from what's required to win a case, and his reward for that is not getting fired. He hasn't done anything to merit a bonus, and Harvey doesn't do pointless gifts. He does an about-face and tosses the tickets into a wastebasket.
Before he makes it three feet, though, Harvey does another about-face and thinks, "Jesus fucking Christ, what am I doing?" again. He's Harvey fucking Specter, he doesn't have to have a reason for anything beyond 'I felt like it'. It's ridiculous to think that he cares so much about how he appears to Mike that he'll chuck perfectly good event tickets into the bin just to save face. He fishes the tickets out of the garbage and walks back over to Mike's desk.
He pauses again when he thinks "Jesus fucking Christ, what, now I actually care so much that I'll pick garbage for him?" but the thought of hesitating and flip-flopping a third time is nigh unbearable. Harvey Specter doesn't vacillate. Harvey Specter just does. He squares his jaw and tucks the tickets next to Mike's keyboard, and forces himself to walk away with all the confidence for which he's famous.
september
-
Autumn brings a change to the weather and another email from Trevor, this time a lot shorter and somehow even more inexplicable than the last.
"i've owed mike $40 for like twenty years now, not because i forget to pay it back but because i like knowing there's something unfinished between us.."
That's all it says.
It's stupid, like everything that comes out of Trevor. Trevor owes Mike a hell of a lot more than $40, and if he thinks unsettled debts are a good thing to harbour then, well, it explains a lot about their friendship.
Harvey can't help but be conscious of the five dollar bill in his hand, though, the next time he buys two coffees and hands one to Mike.
"Thanks," Mike says, and fumbling in his pockets, looking for the right change to pay him back. He can't quite seem to manage it with one hand.
"Don't worry about it," Harvey says, casually sipping from his own cup. "You can owe me."
october
-
The fourth email from Trevor comes at a bad time. Harvey's on the brink of losing a client because of his own stupid mistake, and he's been working Mike like a slave driver trying to fix it. He's pretty sure the kid hasn't gone home or slept for the past thirty-six hours, but he can't afford to care right now.
With his terrible timing, Trevor informs him that "mike's grandmother doesn't like me, never has. she's nice to me and all and when we were little she'd take me for ice cream with mike, but her eyes always had a hard edge when she looked at me. she thinks i'm a bad influence. well, at this point everybody thinks i'm a bad influence, but shes always known it, since even before middle school when i'd convince mike to skip class with me.
i bet she'd like you, though."
Harvey has to admit that he no longer has any idea what Trevor means to accomplish with any of these little emails. He used to think they were to prove something, some kind of sad attempt at one-upmanship that's below him to even acknowledge, but now he isn't so sure. He hasn't been sure for a while, really. He doesn't know if Trevor has told Mike about their one-sided correspondence, doesn't know what either keeping it a secret or being in cahoots with Mike would even achieve for Trevor, doesn't know if it isn't just a long con Trevor's playing.
It's rare that Harvey can't read a person. People's motivations are like water to him, clear and freely available, with hundreds of useful applications. Until Mike came along with all his inexplicability, and apparently brought a friend with him.
One thing Harvey's sure of, though: Trevor has a completely false view of him, because all he knows of Harvey is that one time he went and rescued him for Mike's sake. He thinks Harvey goes to bat for Mike all the time but really, he doesn't. He should, but he doesn't.
november
-
Trevor's next email is pretty didactic. Harvey doesn't appreciate being told what to do by someone who can barely get out of bed without getting arrested, but there are a lot of things about Trevor he doesn't appreciate, so it's just par for the course, really.
"mike's parents died in november. i thought i should give you a heads up in case mike starts acting all weird this week so you know why. he doesn't like to talk about it, so don't mention i said anything. i'm only bringing it up so you might cut him some slack if he fucks up this week. he's got a lot on his mind. go easy on him."
It's against both company policy and Harvey's personal philosophy to "go easy" on anyone. But for some reason, he's not thinking about that. Instead, his mind flashes to Donna, remembering how she loves them so much that she faked a hysterical crying fit to get them room and board when they visited, how she glowed with joy that whole week, chattering to Harvey about all the touristy things they did when Harvey obviously could not care less.
Donna's story about her mother accepting her double dog dare to flash a security guard at the MoMA is still on Harvey's mind when he watches Louis taunt Mike for missing a loophole in a lease contract.
Mike's looking a little gaunt, a bit pale in the face and dead around the eyes. Annoyingly, Harvey can't tell for sure if it's something he would've noticed had Trevor not emailed him.
Louis leans over Mike's cubicle, insinuating that perhaps Mike doesn't know his way around a lease as well as a Harvard graduate should, leering and sly but ultimately harmless.
Harvey watches the strained line of Mike's lips compress, watches him put down his folder with subtly trembling hands, and watches him say to Louis, "You know what? I'm not in the mood today. You and I both know that if you had been the one going over the lease, you wouldn't realised you missed something and you wouldn't have found the loophole on the second read-through. So don't act like you suspect me of not being good enough or whatever, because we both know it's just because you have some kind of jealousy problem with me and I'm seriously not in the mood to play along today."
Bad move. For all the things they might say in the heat of rivalry, Mike has never shown open insubordination toward Louis and Harvey has never suggested that it would be acceptable. Louis is a partner. Mike is an associate. And Mike, when he's in his right mind, respects that. Louis has every right to turn that violent shade of red and hiss bitter threats at Mike, looking like he's going to climb right over Mike's desk and rip open his throat. But Mike isn't in his right mind.
Harvey steps in, one hand on Louis's chest pushing him backwards and the other hand waving at the other nosy associates to disperse, because this isn't a spectator event and they have their own work to do.
"You're nothing but a replaceable highlighting monkey," Louis seethes, even as Harvey guides him away. Harvey shoots a look back at Mike that tells him he'll deal with him later, but the look on Mike's face already says he's sorry for all the right reasons.
Louis is still fighting Harvey's grip as he pulls him into a stairwell, closing the door behind them and crowding him against the wall.
"You need to calm down," Harvey says.
"You need to fire your associate."
"Don't be ridiculous. He's the best one we've had in years. I'm not working at a law firm that fires people like Mike but keeps people like Gregory." Harvey can't help rolling his eyes at just the thought of that Gregory kid.
"At least Gregory knows his place. Did you hear what Mike said to me?"
For all that he's a successful Manhattan lawyer well past the age of puberty, Louis Litt sulks like a child. Harvey's preferred method of dealing with Louis's little moods is vicious mockery partly (maybe mostly) because it's fun and partly because he can usually rile Louis up enough to jolt him out of his petty emotional rut and push him to be better. He doubts that tactic will help right now, though, which is a damn shame. He hates having to be civil to Louis.
"Look, Louis," he says, "he didn't mean it. He's having a bad day."
Louis laughs, incredulous.
Harvey keeps looking him in the eye.
Louis laughs again. "You are kidding, right?"
He's not kidding.
"Oh my god, you're not kidding." Louis looks around like he's suddenly lost. "Wait, wait, I'm sorry, am I still in the same company? Because here at Pearson Hardman, we don't have time for bad days. And we don't have time for you to pick favourites and mollycoddle them, either."
"I'm not 'mollycoddling'," Harvey says. Who even uses that word in real life? "I'm asking you, partner to partner, to understand that Mike is going through some stuff right now, stuff that has nothing to do with the firm, but this incident was a one-time thing and it will never happen again."
Louis tilts his head to the side, his gaze on Harvey appraising. He backs down, straightens his tie, recomposes himself and almost seems to shrink back into a smaller size right before Harvey's eyes.
"Alright," he says simply. "I'll drop it."
It's been so long since he's spoken sincerely to Louis that he's almost forgotten Louis can be sympathetic, occasionally, when he sees a reason to be and when he tries very hard and when the alignment of the planets is just right. "Thank you."
"So, partner to partner, huh?"
"Is that what I said?"
"As in equals? Man to man?"
"Can you drop that too?" Harvey asks tightly. He can't wait to go back to being uncivil to Louis. Earnestness gives him hives. He exits the stairwell and heads for the elevators, and Louis falls in next to him.
"Whoa, what are you doing? Why are you following me?"
"You're buying me lunch," Louis informs him, reaching across him to hit the elevator button.
Christ. The things Harvey will do for Mike.
december
-
Harvey isn't surprised that Trevor's next email is about Christmas, because it's December and Trevor doesn't exactly strike him as terribly original.
"when we were 17 and way too cool to spend xmas with our families, we decided to take a road trip to north carolina and go camping instead."
Trevor doesn't even have to explain who 'we' are anymore.
"so on the morning we're supposed to leave, i'm waiting in front of my house with my car all packed and mike never shows. i call him to ask what's up and he pussies out at the last minute because he feels bad for leaving his grandma all alone for xmas. i was pissed, but i already had all this shit packed up in my car, so on xmas eve i went over to his grandmas with all the camping supplies we were going to take to nc and we set up the tent in her living room like we did when we were little kids. except i also brought all the booze we were going to take with us, which was just another reason on mike's grandma's list of why i'm not fit to lick the dirt off mike's shoe. but it was xmas, so she turned a blind eye and let us get hammered in our fake campground, and she even joined in a little because mikes grandma back in the day was a wild one. there are stories. it turned out to be the most fun xmas i ever had anyway, so fuck camping."
Harvey's not sure the moral of the story really is "fuck camping," but it's been a long time since he's been sure what the purpose of Trevor emailing really is.
Winter's a busy time for the firm, but so is spring and summer and fall, and everything is just business as usual. Harvey is hired by someone Jessica considers a close personal friend, and she gives him a special ultimatum about not fucking up that incorporates a lot more quotations from Scarface than either of them were expecting at the beginning of the conversation. It's go time, and he needs to find Mike so they can start researching.
Mike's not at his desk or on a wild goose chase for Louis. By now, Harvey knows him well enough to go check Rachel's office.
Sure enough, Mike is sitting in front of her desk, half-sprawled and looking mopey. Harvey makes a mental note to look into getting that girl a raise, for the things she has to put up with.
As he approaches, he can hear them talking through the half-closed door.
"I just miss him, you know? We haven't spent the holidays apart since we met. This one time, his parents tried to take him on vacation and he pulled a 'Home Alone'-left-behind-in-an-empty-house move just so we would be together for Christmas."
"That sucks," Rachel says, genuinely sympathetic despite being too busy to look away from her computer screen. "I remember the first time my sister decided to go travelling instead of come home for Christmas; I was crushed."
"It's not like he decided not to come home," Mike says. "He just can't afford a plane ticket, and he won't let me pay for some reason, like he doesn't already owe me. I can't go visit him because I don't have any time off work and I don't want to leave my grandma by herself." He heaves a glum sigh.
Harvey has enough of eavesdropping, so he breezes in through the door in his signature unannounced way. Mike snaps to attention and Rachel hides a smirk. They all have work to do, and they can go cry about the true spirit of Christmas when they're not on the company dime.
Later that night, though, before Harvey goes home but long after all the lights in the rest of the office have already been turned off, Harvey logs into his email and starts composing a message to Trevor. It's the first time he's even acknowledged that he's received Trevor's emails, that Harvey's work email is actually his first name dot last name, that they haven't been sent to an unknown address and relegated to the ether forever unseen.
He keeps it short.
"Thank you for telling me about Mike's parents. I have two tips for you in return:
1) Learn to capitalize.
2) See attachment."
And before he clicks send, he attaches the e-boarding passes for return tickets from Montana to New York and back, courtesy of his own wallet. They're not really for Trevor—they're for Mike. But maybe they're also for Trevor, a little bit, because Harvey can trust that Trevor will understand without a doubt that it's for Mike.
-
end.
note: the title, ars dictaminis is just the medieval art of writing formal letters. Sorry; I was so pressed for a title, I was tempted to just call it "most times Trevor is a jerk but sometimes he can be charming so Harvey doesn't order a hit on him or block his IP address, okay" but it seemed too long.