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It's 10pm on Christmas Eve and, well, Harvey doesn't feel like it. Christmas has just never felt right to him, anyway. Most people celebrate it with family and he finds he doesn't really have any to celebrate it with.
Sure, he could drive to Marcus's and spend his holidays there, but if he's being honest, he can't be bothered to, and he doesn't want to intrude if anything.
Jessica's an option. He's spent a total of one (1) Christmas with her and it was nice. A fancy dinner, wine, and slow conversation. It didn't feel like Christmas, but it sure felt like spending some time with family. (That was years ago though, so he doesn't really feel welcome to offer another celebration with her.)
He would run to Donna every year and he knows she would not even hesitate to take him in under her roof, except for the fact that she goes home and celebrates with her parents every year without fail. They've never really liked him, so he never made a move to invite himself along.
Louis is a hard, immediate no, no matter how nice Harvey tries to be considering the season, Rachel is surely with her parents (plus he's never been quite close to her), and Mike is just—
He has to worry about the kid. He's just like him with no family and as much as he cares for him (though he'd deny it if anyone ever mentioned it) he wouldn't know what to do about it anyway. And besides, he has enough to worry about as it is (himself).
He figures the kid will be fine on his own. He always has been.
So that leaves Harvey— alone. In his apartment with a breathtaking view of Manhattan, colorful lights blinking and sparkling all around.
And he doesn't like that. It's almost as if the view is mocking him, telling him that at the end of the day, everyone in New York and everyone in his life has somewhere/someone to come home to and he doesn't.
He can't deal with that. He's never learned to and he never has.
He doesn't do emotions. He does law. That's what he's good at.
So every Christmas, right before the building closes up, he comes to the firm, gives Ray a hefty tip (not including the gift Donna already bought for him), and does his work like it's another normal day. And it works for him.
Even in his childhood, Christmas has always been off, so who can blame him if he doesn't bother to celebrate it now? It's just not for everyone, he tells himself.
He's gotten through a chunk of a company's bylaws (which he spared Mike from knowing about in light of the holiday) when he decides to make himself some coffee in the partner's area. After a few years, he's learned not to waste his time going down the elevator expecting to buy coffee when there's no coffee cart or open coffee shop waiting for him there.
He takes his time to walk through the firm, passing by offices he never usually crosses, making detours here and there, basking in the peace and quiet that he'd never see on any other day in the firm. At least here, when he's alone he feels like he's king (and not some pathetic, lonely loser). It doesn't really feel like home, but it feels like he belongs, which for him, is good enough.
He passes by the bullpen, and when he takes a peek for curiosity's sake, he's surprised to find a cubicle lit up and an all-too familiar blonde head of hair bent over it.
For once he has no idea what to say, or how to start their conversation, so he takes a way out and briskly walks to the partners' area. He makes coffee for two, both black despite the fact that he likes it sweet and creamy because it's Christmas and he's bitter about it and Mike likes it that way so what the fuck does Harvey care how he drinks his coffee for one night, right?
He takes a sip and winces at the scalding hot bitterness, finding two sugar packets and dumping them in. Mike will never know.
He gingerly holds the two mugs in each of his hands and walks carefully but gracefully back to the bullpen without spilling a drop.
He stands at the bullpen nervously (he doesn't know why, there's literally no reason to be nervous, Harvey) then hesitantly walks forward when Mike doesn't raise his head to look at him.
He almost spills the coffee he's putting on Mike's desk when the kid jumps in his chair in surprise.
"Holy shit!" Mike exclaims, his office chair turning to face Harvey. His highlighter swipes across the document he's reading before dropping to the floor.
"Harvey? What are you doing here?" he asks, his hand to his chest.
"I think I should be asking you that question," Harvey replies, the corners of his lips rising by their own accord.
"I—I'm working, obviously. You?"
"Yeah, same here," Harvey replies simply. They both don't acknowledge the fact that it's Christmas and they probably shouldn't be working. It leaves a silence in their conversation.
"...You know, why don't you just bring those to my office?" Harvey suggests, motioning to the papers and folders and coffee on his desk.
Mike raises his eyebrows, as if asking if Harvey's sure.
Harvey rolls his eyes. "Come on, Mike. You're acting like you don't always work there. Just grab your things, shut that light, and come with me," Harvey says before turning on his heel and walking out of the bullpen.
Mike stumbles, gathering the pile of documents in his arm before picking up his highlighter from the floor, shoving his iPod and his earbuds in his pocket, shutting the light, and grabbing his coffee. He takes a big gulp of it to avoid spillage on the way to Harvey's office. (Also just because he needs the caffeine.)
"Black?" Mike asks as they walk, referring to Harvey's coffee.
"Yeah. Why?" Harvey replies, his walls up. Mike looks at him weirdly.
"...There's sugar in yours, isn't there?" Mike asks, slightly smug.
Harvey stares at him emptily, blinks a few times, then drinks from his coffee without a word. Mike starts laughing, enjoying catching Harvey on his tricks. After Harvey swallows, he smiles, then starts laughing as well.
"Couldn't you have just been grateful I made you a goddamn coffee?" Harvey says, shaking his head with a smile plastered on his face.
"I mean, you might as well have just added creamer!" Mike remarks, grinning.
Harvey glares at Mike, which makes him laugh even harder.
"Thank you for making me coffee, Harvey," Mike says almost sarcastically after his laughing dies down.
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Harvey says, cocky.
Mike shakes his head, chuckling. He risks dropping his things to bump his shoulder to Harvey's. His highlighter falls in front of Harvey's foot, to which he walks over it and goes to his desk.
"What a dick," Mike mumbles.
"I heard that!" Harvey says a few feet away from his desk.
"Because I wanted you to!" Mike retorts, picking up his highlighter and standing up.
Harvey smiles sarcastically and gives Mike the finger, making them both crack up.
"Go do your work, Mike," Harvey says, still half-laughing.
"Fine. And you go… well… What is it you actually do in this firm, Harvey? Sit pretty as your associate does all the work?" Mike asks innocently.
"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Harvey smiles and bats his eyelashes.
"Ha, ha, not the point," Mike says, glaring at Harvey.
"If you're so curious, I'm actually going through some bylaws right now. Trying to prevent this hostile takeover," Harvey says with his chin up.
"No way. You? Going through bylaws?" Mike says, his eyebrows going to his forehead.
"What are you so shocked about?"
"Nothing. You just never do any of the grunt work and— That's kind of my specialty," Mike answers, choosing his words carefully.
"Are you saying you want to do them?" Harvey asks.
"No, I'm saying 'Why did you never give them to me in the first place?'" Mike says, looking at Harvey expectantly.
"Because…" Harvey starts, the gears in his head almost visibly turning to work up a reason. "You already have a lot on your plate," Harvey finishes.
"That's never stopped you before," Mike says, amused.
"Well, now it has," Harvey says definitively, as if ending their conversation.
Mike watches Harvey for a few seconds, trying to read him. He's 80% sure Harvey actually means what he says, he's just leaving out the fact that he's doing it because it's Christmas. And it's… surprisingly nice of him.
"Harvey, I appreciate it," he says sincerely, "but we both know it'll be done faster if I do it," he says gently.
"Come on, Mike. Let me do some of the work," Harvey says. "For once," he adds, smiling.
"Okay. Once, and only once I finish proofing this, would you give me half of what you'd have left by then?" Mike offers.
"Mike," Harvey looks at Mike, his eyes telling him he doesn't want to give him any more work.
"Harvey," Mike replies more sternly, telling Harvey that this is not a battle he is going to win.
"Fine. But no promises that I won't be done by the time you are," Harvey says cockily.
"Promises or not, there's no way you're gonna be finished before me," Mike retorts, grinning in victory.
"Fuck you."
Mike laughs.
After that, they work in comfortable silence — accompanied by the sounds of pages turning, a highlighter swishing across paper, and at one point, Harvey's quiet jazz playing.
Mike finishes proofing an hour after moving to Harvey's office, immediately walking to Harvey's desk to get his promised share of the work.
Harvey throws him a look, asking him if he's sure, to which he nods. Harvey briefs him on the situation and what he's looking out for in the bylaws, Mike gives his insights, Harvey gets his Eureka! moment, they change their plan, then they go through the bylaws from the very start.
Just their usual, really.
Time goes by, the music ends, Harvey changes the vinyl, and Mike gets through a chunk of the bylaws while Harvey gets through maybe half of that.
The air is cold and the jazz is sentimental when Mike thinks to check his watch.
12:09.
"Hey, uh, Harvey?" Mike says softly, so softly it's almost a whisper.
"Hmm?" Harvey hums, not looking up from the bylaws he's reading.
"It's, well, um, nine past twelve. So, um, merry Christmas, I guess," Mike says hesitantly.
Harvey looks up at that, mild surprise in his eyes. Then he smiles.
"Merry Christmas, Mike," he says warmly.
He then moves his chair back and stands up, walking to the windows and staring at the New York skyline. Mike follows silently a few moments later, standing beside him.
This moment right here doesn't feel like home, but it's pretty damn close.
They wrap up at around 5am, the sun still yet to rise. Mike throws the empty pizza box away (which once stored a pizza with cheese-stuffed crust!) and slings his messenger bag over his shoulders as Harvey clears his desk. They go down the elevator and hang around the building entrance.
Harvey takes a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs.
"Thank you for keeping me company," he tells Mike.
"Thank you as well, Harvey," Mike replies, looking up at him and smiling. "Merry Christmas, again."
"Merry Christmas, Mike," Harvey smiles back.
They hold each other's gazes for one heavy moment, then Mike suddenly wraps his arms around Harvey. He's warm and tall and dressed thick, and after a few seconds, hugging back.
Harvey embraces him, his arms heavy across his back, and yeah.
This feels pretty damn close to home.