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It's only been three days, but with Harvey gone, Mike found it felt more like a week. It was exciting at first, getting to go through all of Harvey's stuff without fear of being yelled at, being as loud and messy as he wanted without it bothering anyone else. Turning up the music to ungodly decibels, going up and down the elevator like a little kid… it was amazing without Harvey there to judge him or tell him to just fucking stop already, Christ, how old are you kid?
Because Harvey would. He'd be all exasperated and annoyed, and he might roll his eyes a lot. He'd sit there on his expensive couch with his stupidly expensive suit jacket draped over the armrest, leaning back with his tie loosened and top buttons of his shirt open, mouth turned down at the corners and eyes dark, and… it was awesome, at first, but three days in and Mike's forgotten why he was ever so excited to have the condo to himself in the first place, when all he wants to hear is Harvey teasing him for making a mess.
He might miss Harvey a little. He tells himself this when he wakes up alone on the fourth day.
The way he sprays the pillow with Harvey's cologne and goes to sleep in his dress shirts for nights four through six says he maybe misses Harvey a lot.
Harvey hates Baltimore. Partly because his annoyance with this particular client extends to anything and everything she is associated with, and mostly because it's away from home. (From Mike, he thinks suddenly, but he pushes that thought away as fast as it comes.)
He was lucky to find an earlier flight out. Jessica might bug him about trying to ditch the client as early as possible, but he did his work, got all the right papers signed, made nice with what felt like the client's entire extended family, friends, and their pets, and was completely over it. He was tired, drained, and he just wanted to go home.
He thinks of Mike again, probably getting ready for bed right now. His hair will be messy from running his hands through it all day in agitation, and his eyes will be red from exhaustion, but he'll be soft, pliant, and always welcoming. Harvey smiles to himself as the flight attendant offers him a drink. They've only been living together for a couple of months, but Harvey already feels like there's a permanent Mike-shaped dent in his bed that's never going away. He contemplates how he doesn't want it to the entire flight back home.
The house is quiet when he gets in. Mike's shoes are lying haphazardly in the middle of his living room, and there are dishes in the sink and DVD covers littered all over his coffee table. Mike's favorite (hideous) skinny tie is lying crumpled and dejected on the kitchen table next to a stack of files. He imagines Mike working on them during dinner and feels a pang of disappointment that he wasn't there to rub the tension from Mike's shoulders when he was done.
There's more clothes strewn around the bedroom and he shakes his head in fond amusement, but Mike won't know that. Instead he'll scold him for his messiness tomorrow and listen to Mike come up with ever more creative and elaborate excuses. One of his favorite pastimes.
He showers quietly, too tired to do anything more than just let the water wash over him. He's dressed and ready to slip into bed behind Mike's curled-up form when he notices the smell of his cologne getting stronger as he gets closer to the bed. So the kid was stealing his cologne while he was gone? He makes a mental note to rag on Mike for that too, when he sees the white collar of one of his very fine, very expensive Tom Ford dress shirts poking out from under the covers.
Mike is wearing his shirt. And as he carefully climbs into bed, he notices the cologne coming from the pillow Mike is clutching so tightly. Harvey doesn't know whether to be annoyed Mike is wrinkling his shirt (Rene would have his head if he finds out) or to wrap his arms fiercely around him and never let go again. He settles for easing himself under the covers, lining his body up behind Mike's and winding his arm gently around Mike's waist, hand running up under the shirt to press against warm skin.
Mike moves, stretching and yawning and Harvey can't help it. He pulls Mike in closer, kissing the back of his neck and whispers, "Miss me?"
"Harvey?" Mike nearly shoots out of bed and Harvey laughs, arm around him firm as he pushes him back down on the mattress.
"Yes, who else would it be?" He chuckles as Mike stammers out a response of, "You, of course, just you, I didn't mean—"
"Relax, kid." Harvey leans in and kisses his neck, smelling his cologne even on the pillow Mike is sleeping on, and his hand tightens around Mike's waist, still warm and soft under his dress shirt.
"You're not supposed to be home till tomorrow, though." Mike doesn't sound particularly distressed about his early arrival, and Harvey smiles into his hair as Mike aligns himself with his back to Harvey's chest.
"You're not supposed to wear designer dress shirts to bed, either. But these things just happen, I guess." Mike tenses under his arm, breath coming out a bit more controlled, and Harvey has to laugh, says, "Seriously Mike, I'm not gonna yell at you for missing me."
Mike scoffs, voice indignant as he mumbles, "It's not-- I didn't miss you, okay, you were barely gone for a week. It's just that this shirt is soft and I felt like annoying you by sleeping in it."
"Uh huh." Harvey feels something warm and glorious settle itself comfortably in the pit of his stomach, and he kisses Mike's ear, pulling his body back even closer. "I'm sure my cologne is really soft, too."
Mike lets out a long breath and sags against his chest, deflated. "Fine. Maybe I missed you a little. Next time, can you buy a lighter scent, please? This shit is terrible."
"This shit is Clive Christian's finest, and I'll thank you to not waste it on my linens." He meant it to come out in mock-annoyance, but he ends up sounding playful, amused.
"I'm buying you the cheap knock-off brand for Christmas." Mike shifts, hand coming to rest over Harvey's under his shirt.
Harvey chuckles softly, ready to let sleep take him and continue their banter in the morning. But then he feels Mike move again, and Harvey scoots closer to keep them pressed together, lips soft on the back of Mike's neck. He can feel the shirt collar tickling his chin, the scent of $2000 cologne on Mike's pillow a mix between tragic and hopelessly endearing, and he can’t help but whisper, "I missed you too," before sleep finally claims him.