Work Text:
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me clarify. Absolutely not.”
Mike has to give Harvey credit for this. It takes a lot to piss him off. Mike disobeying him still isn’t enough to get him angry. Harvey’s poker face is indestructible, even when his fraudulent associate is openly defying him. All Harvey does is grin. Like there’s a show lined up for him that he can’t wait to watch.
It sucks because Mike has a lot of ways to get through to an angry Harvey but none to get to a smug Harvey.
The viscious smirk on Harvey’s face is proof enough that he’d seen this conversation coming from a mile away. He’s had extra time to prepare for every one of Mike’s potential responses, while all Mike is running on is three Red Bulls that he chugged early in the morning and the adrenaline coursing through his veins that surged after he heard the news.
Harvey’s wager.
“You cannot do this to me. Do you know many laws of the Geneva Convention you’re violating by doing this?”
Harvey taps his pen against the desk, like he’s scrambling for an answer but he merely runs a hand through his hair. He’s not bothered by any of this, even the fact that Mike is pleading him for a way out.
“Wrong.” Harvey says, not bothering to look up from whatever documents he’s signing. “Incorrect and wrong. I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do.”
“Kinky. Didn’t know I was your type.”
Donna coughs on the receiver as Harvey slaps the file shut.
“I’m not into skinny ties. Besides, you’re Louis’ problem now. Scram.”
“Yeah, speaking of Louis…” Donna mutters. Harvey grins, smug bastard.
Mike spins on his heel, panic setting in as Louis strides into the office. He’s positively beaming, like someone served him up their firstborn, which technically did happen. He’s never seen Louis this happy. Mike is sure not even mudding gives him this much pleasure.
No. No. He does not want to think about Louis going mudding or Louis asking him to go mudding. Mike’s blood runs cold.
“Morning, gentlemen. How are we doing on this fine morning?” Louis claps his hands once for dramatic effect and he turns to Mike, patting him on the shoulder. Mike shrinks in on himself, like a snail slinking away into its shell for comfort.
Mike is sure he’s turned green enough to rival the Incredible Hulk, while there’s an evil glint in Harvey’s eye. He’s enjoying this. Donna gives Mike a small smile when he looks at her for support. She shrugs, in a what can I do, anyway kind of way.
Help me!, Mike mouths to Donna. Donna’s curls bounce as she turns her back to him. She makes a big deal of answering the phone.
Mike groans in frustration. He’s on his goddamn own in this.
“You ready to go, champ?” Louis asks, the utter glee in his tone is impossible to miss.
Mike gives Harvey a glare, who only seems to be taking the utmost delight in his protege’s suffering.
“Fine.” Mike forces through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”
*
The thing is, Mike should’ve seen it coming. He’d seen Harvey and Louis talking in a corner minutes before the mock trial commenced. He’d assumed they’d wager money like they always do.
No. Harvey had bet Mike. If Kyle won, Louis would get Mike for a month. If Mike won, Harvey would get… nothing. He put Mike up for nothing.
When he’d prioritised his friendship with Rachel in the mock trial, he’d thought the only consequence would be losing to the prick, Kyle Durant. What he hadn’t anticipated was Harvey coming up to him with a sheepish look and saying, “You’re fodder for Louis now. Good luck.”
Now, as promised, Louis has come to collect and Mike can already feel his soul leaving his body.
Mike isn’t afraid of the work or the verbal abuses or the berating. He can take all of it and more.
For his first job, Mike worked at a pizza place as a delivery man. His manager had a tendency to get prissy when he was high. The catch? He was high all the time. Mike had to get to places on his bike with five pizzas at times with his bastard of a manager riding him to no end about his incompetence.
While guys like Harold, Jimmy and Kyle were attending Harvard, he was busy getting chewed out for making a delivery five minutes late.
So, yeah. He's pretty sure he can handle Louis Litt. (Pretty sure being the key word here.)
It's the addition in the equation that stops him dead in his tracks.
“Mike, I believe you know Kyle Durant.”
Kyle comfortably leans against Louis' desk, a fat file tucked under his arm as he smugly grins. Oh, the goddamn power trip he's on after one fake trial. The world will probably implode the day he gets promoted from the position of an associate. Just the thought of it makes Mike want to stride over there and get that smile off his face. With a good, hard punch.
The most interaction Mike thought he’d have with Kyle would be run-ins in the bullpen. Mike would ignore the quips and the insults about being too soft, too weak and he’d do good work for Harvey until the mock trial disaster had blown over. He’d redeem and prove to himself that he was truly above Kyle Durant.
Mike had expected to do all that from a distance. Now, he’s going to be facing the person who defeated him for nearly ten hours in a day. A person who won’t let him forget about what happened.
Louis sits down on his chair, turning to face the window. Leaving Kyle and Mike to get integrated on their own. Great.
“Now, now, Mike. I hope you know there's no need for you to bow down in my presence. It's okay, I acknowledge that we are equal.”
Mike doesn’t mean to sound as bitter as he does when he says: “Why don't you bite me?”
“Right here?” Kyle grin is almost feline when he sees how easy it is to get under Mike’s skin. “Now, that's hardly appropriate. I could sue you for sexual harassment.”
“Might as well add physical assault to that list.”
Kyle's smile hasn't dropped off his face, it's mildly unnerving. He slightly puffs his chest, like he's preparing for a fight. “Let's do it, Ross.”
That’s enough for Louis to intervene as he turns in his chair. He’s beaming. “Alright, ponies. Civility, please. Don't forget. A month.”
A month. He has to deal with this psycho for a month. Mike will deliver a million pizzas before he works alongside Kyle Durant, the resident douchebag. From the dirty looks Kyle is shooting him, Mike can be certain this is at least one thing they can both agree on.
*
They get slapped with the most high-profile case on Pearson Hardman's agenda right now: the Anthony Mazlo embezzlement saga. Anthony Mazlo, head of Mazlo Investments, embezzled millions of dollars from Lucille Jackson’s accounts.
Lucille Jackson’s status, being a close friend of Jessica Pearson (as in, managing partner of Mike’s firm, Pearson Hardman) had pushed her case to the top of the list. Every junior partner wanting to be named the next senior partner and every associate wanting Jessica to know their names were dying to sink their teeth into this meaty case.
But, the case is financial crime and it’s Louis’ speciality. Overeager Louis, desperate to prove himself, had gone above and beyond to get the case rather than Harvey. Calling in favours, threats, box tickets to the next Knicks game. You know, typical Louis Litt things.
That’s how the Lucille Jackson case falls into their laps.
From the way Louis’ shoulders are squared and his chest is puffed, it’s obvious he’s pleased to have gotten the case over Harvey. “It’s financial crime. Boring.” is all Harvey says when Mike asks him about it. For Louis, it doesn’t matter if his nemesis didn’t want the case in the first place. It’s still a win. Which only means he’s going to beat down harder on Mike (and Kyle) to make sure they win.
They’ve been waiting in conference Room C for fifteen minutes now. Kyle patiently sits in his seat, used to Louis’ tardiness while Mike starts to pace. Despite the blasted AC, it’s hot under Mike’s collar and he’s starting to sweat in his socks. The reality - that he’s going to be working with Kyle for a month - is starting to set in.
Louis barges into the conference room with no explanation with two files so filled to the brim with papers, they’re threatening to burst. Kyle leans back in his seat while Mike leans against the window sill.
“This, right here, is your priority.” Louis says, tossing the two files that go flying before they hit Kyle’s and Mike’s faces. Mike rolls his eyes in open defiance while Kyle focuses on gathering the papers, putting them back into the file and tensing his jaw to look serious. Weirdo.
“I don’t care if your grandma is dying, sister has cancer or your father has turned into a demogorgon. Nothing in your life is more important than Lucille Jackson. You know the rules.”
Mike blinks and from the corner of his eye, he sees Kyle put his game face on. His curls fall over his eyes as he starts going through the file already. Louis turns, ready to walk out the door when Mike says, “Um. What rules?”
Louis’ glare has the power of a thousand suns. Kyle hides his smug smirk behind the file.
“Fine.” Louis sighs, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s in physical pain because of Mike’s stupidity. “No breaks, no letting my calls go to voicemail and no sex.”
Mike coughs, turning to Kyle for an explanation. Kyle meets his gaze with blankness, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Mike would’ve thought a coked up frat boy like Kyle would have protested against Louis’ ridiculous ‘no sex’ rule. But, Kyle stays still, his expression challenging as he dares Mike to say something.
Now, he sees why Louis wanted Kyle as his pony. No matter what insane statements Louis makes, Kyle sits there and takes it. Whether or not he actually accepts it is yet to be determined.
Kyle gives him a glare. Mike snaps out of his trance.
“Okay, Louis. Whatever you say.”
“Good.” Louis says. “Buckle up.”
*
“I can't do this. I'll quit.” Mike groans. “With God, as my witness, I swear I'll quit.”
“Get out of my office.” Harvey says. It’s offensive that he doesn’t even bother looking up from the paperwork to acknowledge Mike’s whims. Mike sifts through Harvey’s records, just to look busy when Donna comes by to confirm Harvey’s schedule. “And stop touching my records.”
Mike sighs. “Come on, sensei. Please. You have to get me out of there. I’ll shine your shoes for you.”
“I don’t want my shoes to be shined with pizza grease.”
“That was one time.” Mike collapses onto Harvey’s couch, giving Donna a small grin when she looks over at him.
“He's insufferable. You know, I didn't even know it was possible for me to actually hate a person so much.”
"Donna, can you please tell Mike the thing I told you two hours ago?"
"'No. I want Asian.'" Donna dutifully repeats. Harvey doesn't blink.
"The other thing."
"Oh." Donna clears her throat. "Not. My. Problem."
Mike sighs. This is such a waste of time. He's groveled so much but Harvey refuses to budge. As Mike turns to leave Harvey's office, he gets stopped.
“Mike.” Harvey finally gives him a crumb of importance. Mike turns on his heel, ready to make a quip but he’s stopped short. “Don’t get caught.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Harvey doesn’t seem to believe him. “Don’t slip up. You know what’s at stake, right?”
He knows. Sometimes, Harvey seems to forget that it’s Mike who’s leading the life of a fraud. The reminder doesn’t even hurt anymore.
“I get it.” Mike states. “I’ll be careful. Trust me.”
*
It’s close to nine PM. Some of the associates were still there, but the only places where actual work was getting done was Mike’s and Kyle’s cubicles. They haven’t looked up in what feels like hours.
Running on Red Bull, Mike feverishly runs his eyes over sections and sections of the minute details of the Lucille Jackson case. He can feel the information being catalogued into his brain as he runs the highlighter over important words. Any one of these details could break this case wide open.
This. This is why he loves working at Pearson Hardman. The sensitive nature and the pressure of the cases, all of it gets him high. A soft, euphoric high.
It’s like salt in the wound when he thinks about college. If he hadn’t listened to Trevor and sold the test answers, if he hadn’t sold it to the dean’s daughter, if he hadn’t been rusticated and if he’d made it to Harvard.
He doesn’t want to think about the limits he would’ve reached if he would’ve been legitimate because all it does is sink him into a pit of despair and regret. He wouldn’t have had to wake up every morning, wondering if that day was the day he’d be walked out of Pearson Hardman in handcuffs.
No matter how much Mike hates Kyle, Kyle has the one thing Mike has desperately chased all his life. Legitimacy.
Mike glances at Kyle from the corner of his eye.
Mike has never worked with Kyle before this. Every time he’d see Kyle in the bullpen, he was either wasting time boasting to the other associates, flirting with Rachel or trying to steal the raspberry bran bars from the kitchen without anyone noticing. He’s never seen the man actually work, which is why Mike watches in mild shock as Kyle sharpens his third pencil of the evening.
“What are you staring at?” Kyle snaps, looking up from his papers as his mouth sets into a grim line. “You know, this time that you’re wasting checking me out, you could be spending on the briefs.”
Mike coughs into his fist. “I wasn’t checking you out.” He was. He really, really was. “And, anyway, I’m done.”
Something in Kyle’s face shifts, eyes widening. “No way.” Kyle states. “No fucking way.”
“Try me.”
Kyle stares at him, trying to decide if Mike’s pulling one on him or if the wunderkid reputation is actually true. He decides to test it out for himself.
“What’s Lucille Jackson’s maiden name?”
“Miller.”
“Which investment firm dealt with Lucille’s first loan?”
“Aretra Investments.”
“What’s the exact amount of money that went missing?”
“$152,375,242.18.”
It feels good to catch Kyle off-guard for once. The colour has drained out of his face as Kyle hurriedly closes the file, jumps out of his seat and grabs his coat hanging on the back of his chair.
When Mike gives him a quizzical glimpse, all Kyle says is, “I have to… make a phone call.”
*
It’s Sunday. A few weeks ago, Mike would’ve spent the day getting high or sneaking into Trevor’s apartment to steal his beer. He only did the latter to see Jenny, which is out of the question now. It’s the only thing he regrets about leaving that life behind.
But, he relishes the work and he’s not going back. He’s never going back. He puts Jenny out of his mind and he gets back to work.
*
They’re deposing Elliot Perkins today. Off the bat, the man is sweating and his face runs red. He dabs at his face with a silk handkerchief that does nothing to help his cause. Perkins keeps leaning back into his chair, biting his nails as his lawyer tells him something. Perkins keeps staring at the camera propped up on the stand.
Mike can’t ignore the churning in his stomach. A bad feeling. Harvey once told him that a lawyer’s greatest asset was their instinct. Mike’s instincts are telling him that something is going to go terribly, terribly wrong.
He watches Perkins from outside the room. A glass door separates them, but Mike can taste the tension in the conference room on his tongue. Kyle stands beside him, the file clutched close to his chest like a shield. His features are pulled into a tight, grim expression.
Mike follows Kyle’s sight to Perkins. He might’ve made a mistake to think that Kyle was missing a conscience.
Louis walks up to them and Kyle straightens up, like someone pushed a metal rod into his spine. Mike stays leaned against the wall, his legs crossed, but Louis is too excited to make a snide comment about that. He’s drunk on a victory that isn’t even his yet. Harvey wouldn’t have acted like this.
“He’s guilty.” is all Louis says, before he pushes into the office. He pauses, halfway. “By the way, I’m letting you both sit in. Say a word and I’ll cut your tongues out and I’ll feed them to you.”
Kyle waits until Louis is inside. “Holy fuck.” He mutters under his breath, like he’s forgotten Mike is even there. Mike looks at Kyle, the way his face brightened after Louis threw him a bone. It reminds him so much of Harvey that Mike can’t bring himself to make fun of Kyle for it.
As per Louis’ instructions, they sit in on the deposition. Kyle sits there with his notepad out, sharpened pencils and everything, right next to Louis. Perkins gives Mike a glance when he sits down, leaving a chair between him and Kyle.
It’s a painful thirty minutes as Louis deposes Perkins, who seems to be a second away from coming undone every minute that passes by. Mike keeps shifting in his seat, listening to the varying pitches of Louis’ voice as he tears the man apart, accusing him of stealing the money. Perkins goes from horrified to sweaty to sick and when they carry him out on a stretcher, it’s hardly shocking.
Kyle leans back into his chair, arms crossed and Mike takes a deep breath. It’s all starting to unravel.
*
Louis gets a call an hour later. From the way his knuckles tighten around the phone to the sudden stiffness in his posture, Mike doesn’t need to be Professor X to know what happened. Elliot Perkins is dead.
*
Mike finds Kyle downstairs, smoking. He’s in the corner of the building where there are no cameras, hurriedly lighting up his cigarette like he’s ashamed that someone will find him. Mike debates between leaving and staying. He decides on the former.
“That was rough, huh.” Kyle doesn’t even look surprised to see him. He continues to smoke, not bothering to reply to Mike’s statement. Kyle runs a hand over his face.
“You okay?”
Kyle scoffs, but it’s half-hearted. “Trying to be friends, Ross?”
“No. I was just… I don’t know.”
Kyle puts the cigarette out, reaching for another one. He lights it up, not bothering to ask if Mike wants a smoke (he doesn’t want one, it’s just common courtesy). His cheeks hollow as he takes a hit, his curls framing his face and just for a second, Mike lets his mind wander.
“I can’t believe he’s dead.” Kyle says, his tone steady. “Our best chance at nailing Anthony Mazlo is dead.”
Mike lets a chuckle loose, which gets Kyle’s attention. He’s just like Louis Litt, worried about work when a man is dead.
Kyle challenges him. “What?”
“He was married, you know. Perkins.” Kyle turns his face away. “He has a daughter. Had.”
Kyle shakes his head, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He shudders as he takes a deep breath. For a second, Mike thinks he’s going to say something about it. Instead, Kyle settles for: “Let’s go back upstairs.”
*
“We need to have the money in the Perkins’ Caymans account traced and we need to find out if the transaction is legitimate. We need an answer before Anthony Mazlo walks in and screws us.” Louis sighs.
Kyle takes his notes as Mike stares out the window. He’s spent the entire afternoon thinking of Perkins and his wife and his daughter. He’s been caught on it for a while now, tangled in this web like he always gets when something goes sideways. Harvey would cuss him out for it, but this time, Mike is sure he’d make an exception.
“Michael.” Louis loudly claps his hands once to get Mike’s attention. Mike flinches at the noise as it reverberates through Louis’ office. Louis’ jaw is set tight as a drum. “Is there something you want to say?”
Mike chews on his knuckle. He can feel Kyle’s eyes on him, hot on the side of his face. Mike meets Louis’ eyes, unsurprised to find them ripe with fury.
“I want to work with Harvey again.” Mike says, as he gets out of his seat. Kyle takes a deep breath, nails digging into the sides of the chair he unflinchingly sits in. “I can’t work like this.” Not with you.
“Harvey won’t take you back, not before the time is up. He won’t go back on his word.”
"One case. It's either one case or I fucking quit."
Kyle blanches as Louis seethes, through gritted teeth.
“Fine. One case, Mike.” Louis says, clenching his teeth. “One case.”
*
With Elliot Perkins dead, Mazlo feels like he has an advantage. He shows up to the firm, putting the entire blame on Perkins conveniently. A dead man who can’t defend himself. He offers a settlement of $15 million which is ten cents on the dollar. Louis obviously refuses, but he’s required to present the offer to his client.
Lucille Jackson wants to take the offer. Mike and Kyle have 24 hours to come up with a reason for her not to.
While that’s been going on, Mike has been working on something of his own. Rachel comes up to Mike’s cubicle, catching the eye of Kyle whose expression is unreadable. Rachel gives Mike the package.
“Good luck.” is all she says, before she walks away.
Mike tears the package open, looking through the papers to confirm his hunch.
“What is it?” Kyle asks.
He leans over the wall between their cubicles to catch a glimpse of the papers that left Mike with a pit in his stomach. Mike turns towards him. What he doesn’t realise is how close Kyle really is. Their noses almost bump. Kyle’s eyes widen. He steps back, coughing into his closed fist, his hands resting on his hips.
Mike shakes his head. “Perkins was innocent.”
Any remnants of colour on Kyle’s face dissipate immediately as he collapses into his seat. The reality of what his mentor has done hits him like a jackhammer.
“Oh. Fuck.”
*
They go out for drinks. Not because they’re friends or because they want to talk, but because they’re the only people who can understand what the other is going through right now.
They find a dingy bar seven blocks from the firm’s building. It’s Kyle’s suggestion, which is shocking considering Mike didn’t think he’d go for cheap bars where joints are being passed like candy and the environment is electric. Kyle just keeps finding ways to surprise him.
Kyle orders a whiskey, Mike goes for a vodka tonic and they sit in silence. Mike’s heart races to the pumping of the thunderous music, but Kyle is unphased. He must come here a lot.
“This your usual scene, Kyle?” Mike asks.
“Only when I need to take my mind off things.”
Mike nods. If he hadn’t left it for Harvey, Mike would’ve spent his entire career getting high. It happens sometimes, hitting the breaking point. Kyle seems to have found his.
“We have 24 hours.”
“Correction. We have 19 hours and we’re nowhere close to figuring out what the hell we’re going to do.” Kyle buries his face in his arm, and for a second, Mike pities him.
“It’s simple. Don’t play the odds. Play the man.”
“That something Harvey taught you?”
“Yes, it is.”
That makes Kyle smile and Mike can’t bring himself to look away. Kyle throws the whiskey back, half of it running down the sharp angle of his throat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and he looks at Mike.
“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t tell you this.” Kyle says. “But when I first got to Pearson Hardman, I spent two whole months trying to impress him. I wanted to be his associate so badly. I mean, he’s the whole reason I went to law school in the first place.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s crazy, right? I just… I don’t know.” Kyle chuckles. “He never cared about any of the associates before. And then you came along.”
Mike can only laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“I saw him during the mock trial.” Kyle says, running his finger along the edge of the glass. “He was proud. At least, before the whole thing went sideways.”
If he would’ve told Kyle what the actual circumstances of his first meeting with Harvey was, he’s sure Kyle would’ve taken that back. There’s no way Harvey would ever display that kind of emotion. Still, there’s a part of him that wants to believe it.
“I can’t wait for things to get back to normal.” Mike says and Kyle lets a chuckle loose.
“Alright, let’s go.” He says, and Mike suddenly comes alive.
*
Mike and Kyle find themselves at the firm. There’s barely anyone there, aside from Norma. Even the lights in Harvey’s office are turned down. Mike gives it a wistful look before Kyle opens the door to a conference room.
“Mazlo was in Liechtenstein the day that Lucille's endowment evaporated.” Mike says, as he looks over the files to confirm it. Kyle sits across from him.
“Maybe he was skiing.”
“Trust me. Nobody goes to Liechtenstein for pleasure.”
“Why don't we subpoena the bank records?” Kyle suggests and Mike shakes his head. He’s been down this road before with
“How many banks can there be?”
“Place is like Switzerland on steroids.”
“So, what you’re saying is… we'll never see those records.”
“That’s exactly it.” Mike says. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"I think I might have a way."
Mike calls Lola, who thankfully doesn't hang up on him. It doesn't take her more than thirty minutes to hack into the bank's servers and find the evidence. Kyle watches with wide eyes at the true display of teamwork. Mike submits the evidence and Louis destroys Anthony Mazlo.
The next day, Mike finds Kyle in the file room, going through the case files on Mesa Verde, an unrelated banking case. Must be Louis' next assignment.
"It's done." Mike says, as he clutches the file close to his chest. "We won."
Even from here, as Kyle leans onto the shelf behind him as if his legs just gave out, Mike sees his breath hitch, the relief written all over his face.
A week ago, the last person Mike would've wanted to celebrate this win with would be Kyle. He would've picked Harvey or Rachel or Harold, but as a victorious smile breaks over Kyle's face - the soft excitement donning upon him, Mike's heart flips, and he realizes that's not the case anymore.
"Motherfucker." Kyle breathes out, and for a second, Mike thinks Kyle's talking to him. But Kyle's gaze stays pinned to the ground. "I hope he fucking rots in jail."
"Don't worry, he probably will." Mike says, taking a few steps forward until he's between the two shelves himself. "Guy like him... he's not gonna last long."
The distance between the two shelves is minimal. If Mike were standing in front of Kyle, their knees would knock together and Mike would tower over him, by a good few inches. That thought hits him like a sucker punch out of nowhere and Mike doubles back, softly coughing into his fist as he feels his cheeks burn.
Kyle is so wrapped up in the win that he doesn't notice.
"Good." He replies, before he straightens up, eyes meeting with Mike's. "We couldn't have won this case without you."
Mike blinks. "Are you shitting me right now? You're the one who came up with the bank files."
"You thought of the Liechtenstein thing."
It takes Mike a second to realize something. "We're complimenting each other. That's... that's fucking insane."
Kyle laughs, loud and bright. It almost catches Mike off guard. He sounds so vulnerable and so human that Mike almost doesn't register what he's doing.
Kyle's breath hitches, his eyes widening as Mike almost pins him to the shelf. Like Mike fantasized about, Kyle is shorter than him and it drives him feral. Kyle isn't pushing him away.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Kyle asks, but he sounds breathless. His pupils are dilated, chest heaving.
"The case is over. Louis' rules don't apply anymore."
"Oh." Kyle's face softly reddens. "Shit."
The realization strikes Mike that he might've misread this situation. "Oh... unless, you don't want."
Kyle blinks. "Mike, that's such a stupid fucking statement that I don't even want to correct you."
Kyle's hand curls around the back of Mike's neck as he brings his mouth down to meet Mike's. A soft groan escapes Mike as he presses Mike into the shelf. Kyle's finger hook into Mike's belt loops, pulling him in closer.
This time, Mike doesn't run away.
*