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"So. A ballroom."
"What can I say? I like to be, uh, extravagant," Harvey says, the thought not fully made.
"It was Donna, wasn't it?"
"Yep," Harvey answers simply. Mike chuckles, shaking his head.
"Even for her this seems unnecessary," Mike points out, still grinning as he admires the elegantly designed room.
"Donna, this seems unnecessary," Harvey tells his assistant when she tells him she's booked a goddamn ballroom for an hour.
"No it isn't," she answers matter-of-factly.
"Can't we just clear out a conference room or something? A ballroom seems too grand to teach the puppy how to sway his hips." Donna gives him a look at that.
"No place is too grand to have a first dance with the associate you've been extensively pining over," Donna mumbles under her breath.
"Excuse me?"
"You are excused," she replies innocently. Harvey stares daggers at her, but she doesn't budge.
"Can't you at least find something a little bit more modest?"
"Nope," Donna replies, popping her p. "I've already booked you for tomorrow, 6pm. One hour. Don't even think of exceeding it, 'cause there's an appointment after you and I already asked them to be pushed back for you two."
Harvey opens his mouth to protest, but Donna's outstretched index finger stops him.
"Bup-bup-bup! No objections," she says sternly. "By morrow you must have asked Miss Elizabeth for her hand and danced the night away," she adds in a laughable English accent.
Harvey raises an eyebrow, his lips parted as he keeps a smile from forming.
"Don't even think about laughing," Donna looks at him murderously. Harvey holds up his hands and steps back in surrender.
"Good. Nothing further," she smiles and says lightly, dismissing Harvey.
He walks away, and after a few steps she shouts from her desk. "You can thank me later in the form of new shoes!"
"Oh, it was extremely necessary for her," Harvey says, annoyed yet fond. Mike raises a curious brow at that, but doesn't end up asking.
"So, how do we go about this?" Mike asks as he stops walking and stands awkwardly in the middle of the spacious floor.
"Why don't we start with what you already know? You can't be that bad, can you?" Harvey suggests, standing a few feet away from Mike.
"I don't really know much," Mike says tentatively, feeling weird when he says he doesn't know something.
Harvey raises a dubious eyebrow.
"Okay, okay, I have no idea what I'm doing," Mike rolls his eyes.
"What? No date ever asked you for a dance at prom? Or did Grammy not teach you how?" Harvey teases.
"Ha ha ha, Grammy surely would've taught me if she didn't have trouble standing up for five minutes straight. I'm surprised you even volunteered," Mike retorts with a winning grin. Harvey's face is incredibly offended and absolutely hilarious, but before he can even form a reply, Mike tattles on.
"And I was a fourteen year old among juniors and seniors at prom. No one really wanted to dance with the smart kid, so I didn't go," Mike shrugs. "Once, though, I did go to a wedding as a plus one, although my date thought dancing together would be weird for the people around us," Mike continues, though slowing down, as if retreating from the story.
"Why? Was she a cougar? Oh—no, no, no. I know. Mother of the bride?" Harvey asks with a shit-eating grin and wiggling eyebrows. Mike shakes his head and laughs, then he bites his lip and looks at his shoes.
"Nah. But my date's friends were the traditionalist kind, and he didn't want to make things awkward," Mike gets out, voice softer than before. He looks up slowly and his eyes are searching Harvey's, nervous and waiting.
"Ah."
So he likes guys. Okay. Alright. Awesome. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"Well," Harvey clears his throat, "Nothing even more awkward than practising how to dance with the senior partner of the firm you work at, so… get over yourself," Harvey tells him lightly.
Still on edge, Mike asks, "You're not bothered… are you?"
"Mike. Who you fancy is none of my business," Harvey answers, business-like.
Mike gives him a look, unsatisfied. (Accompanied by his goddamn irresistible puppy eyes!)
Harvey sighs. "No, Mike. I am not bothered," he says, enunciating every syllable.
"Thank you," Mike says sincerely.
"Okay, we've drifted from our purpose. You'll lead some other chick for the event, but since you're as clueless as an infant," to which Mike pouts at him, "I'll lead first then once we get the hang of it, you can try leading. Sound good?"
"Except for the me-being-as-clueless-as-an-infant part, yeah, it sounds good. How do we start?"
Harvey teaches him the simple mechanics of the box step. It's only a few basic steps. The left foot steps front, the right foot steps to the side, then the left foot moves so the feet are back together, then the right foot steps back, the left foot steps to the side, then the right foot moves so the feet are back together. In theory, it might sound complicated, but in practice, it should be much simpler.
It should be.
Apparently, as much intellectual prowess the kid has, he doesn't have any mind-body coordination to save his life. Harvey lets him off when he gets confused which foot should step for the first few tries, but after a few (many) more he starts to wonder if Mike even knows what's his left from his right.
They go through it incredibly slowly, and Mike gets it (finally). Doing it a few more times for good measure, they start to do the box step side by side like it's second nature.
Next step, then.
"Alright. We're gonna do that but facing each other now."
Mike faces Harvey instinctively.
Good boy.
"Can I touch you?" Harvey asks cautiously.
"Geez, Harvey, take a man out to dinner first," Mike answers playfully.
"I'll take that as a yes," Harvey says, unimpressed.
He hesitantly takes Mike's right hand into his own and raises their hands up to shoulder level, completely ignoring the fact that his heart is pounding against his chest and Mike's hand is warm and heavy in his own and he's holding Mike's hand, he's holding Mike's hand, he's holding Mike Ross's fucking hand.
He also puts his hand below his shoulder blade, resisting the urge to pull him closer or to let his hand slip down to Mike's waist.
Mike's left arm hovers over Harvey's right, looking to Harvey to tell him what to do.
"You're helpless," Harvey concludes. "Just put your hand on my arm," he says.
"Okay. What's first? Do we step to the side?"
Harvey sags a little.
"Kid, we're doing the same exact thing we just did. Left, right, together; right, left, together, remember?"
"Ohhh, okay," Mike nods in recognition. Harvey doesn't feel too hopeless now.
"How do we do that?"
Nevermind.
"I'm leading, so I'll be the one stepping forward. You, step back."
Harveyʼs in the middle of stepping forward when Mike says, "Woah, woah, woah. I step back? With what? My left foot?"
"No. You stepped back with your right foot earlier, so that's what you're gonna step back with now," Harvey explains like it's common sense.
"But that's like, the second part of the thing. Why am I starting with the second part?"
"Because you're dancing with a partner and I'm doing the first part, rookie. We can't both step forward with our left or else we're just going to step on each other's toes."
"Okay, that… makes sense. Damn it."
Harvey chuckles at his mild frustration. "Come on. I'll step forward, then you step back."
Harvey slowly steps his left foot forward and Mike, by some miracle, steps his right foot back.
"Okay, what now?" Mike asks, immediately at a loss.
"Step to the side."
"What foot?"
"Have you already forgotten what we did earlier?"
"My brain wasn't made for this!"
"Okay," Harvey takes a deep breath. "Let's go back to the beginning. Back, side, together; front, side, together. That's the direction of your feet. Remember. " Mike nods, evidently internalizing it.
"You just remember that, and I'll tell you which foot to use as we do it. Think that'll work?"
Mike shrugs. "Worth a shot."
Their first two steps go fine, but after them it all goes to shit. Partly because Harvey maybe fucks up telling Mike which foot to use, (which, in his defense: it's hard to say something whilst doing the reverse of it) and partly because Mike gets confused, more so than he already is, stepping forward and backward at the wrong times with the wrong feet.
There are a few close calls that he steps on Harvey. ("A few" because… well… with most of them he actually did step on Harvey. But he apologized every time!)
"Alright that's definitely not working," Harvey stops their movement, voice tight from the slight pain in his feet.
"Sorry," Mike says warily.
"Why don't you do the box step on your own first? Then I'll join you midway. See how that goes."
Mike reluctantly agrees and awkwardly starts to do the box step, Harvey blurting out what foot to step with or where to go every once in a while. He eventually starts doing it without Harvey saying anything, slowly getting into a rhythm.
After forming a few boxes with his feet, there comes a sudden gust of air and an arm under his shoulder and a hand in his hand and a very handsome Harvey in front of him.
He's way too tapped into his rhythm that he doesn't notice Harvey also doing the box step with him.
When he does, he gapes at Harvey, who smiles at him. The fact that he doesn't lose his footing at that is a great sign.
They do it for a lot more times to make sure Mike's gotten the hang of it. Gradually, Harvey slows them down and stops.
"That was good," he comments, impressed. "But there's one more thing."
"Oh, no, " Mike says, full of dread.
Harvey laughs. "Don't worry. It's just that we were staying in one place. Eventually, we have to move around the room," he explains.
"And how's that gonna happen?"
"You leave that to me, because I'm the one leading. You'll try it later, but you should get the hang of it first."
Mike nods. "Okay."
"Wanna try to add some music?" Harvey suggests.
"Sure."
Harvey walks to the corner and sets it up, the music soon reverberating around the whole room.
It's soft strings and woodwinds with a beautiful orchestration, a waltz not too fast but also not dragging.
Harvey walks back and they get in position.
They start doing the box step just like earlier, the two of them moving in tandem. They stay in one place for a while, Harvey letting Mike get used to their rhythm first.
"I'm gonna start leading us around," Harvey says after a few measures of the music have passed. He feels Mike's hand tighten in his.
"What if I trip? Or step on you?" he asks anxiously.
"Look. You're doing fine right now. That means you'll be fine once we start moving. Just follow your body. It's instinctive. Trust me."
"I trust you," Mike answers immediately. Softly. Sincerely.
It makes Harvey smile and Mike's about to melt into a puddle when the weight suddenly shifts and their steps are starting to change direction and length.
It doesn't trip him up, and weirdly enough, as Harvey takes his steps a little wider and a little more to the right, Mike's feet do instinctively follow him.
Once Mike lets go of the tension in his shoulders, he starts to notice how they're actually moving around the room.
Harvey watches as Mike's eyes sparkle in amazement, not even realizing how wide he's smiling at his associate's joy.
He eases them to a stop when the piece ends, the smiles on their faces unwavering.
"Holy shit, we just did that!" Mike says.
"Yeah," Harvey says proudly.
"I don't even know how we did that without stepping on each other, like, that was so cool! It's like I didn't even have to think about it and my body just— did it for me!" Mike unconsciously squeezes Harvey's hand.
Harvey smiles and moves his other hand, patting it on Mike's shoulder before dropping both of his hands to his sides.
"Since you're so pumped, do you want to try leading? I think you're good to go."
"I can try," Mike says, albeit slightly nervous.
Harvey puts on another piece of music, just a little slower than the previous one.
Mike cautiously places his hand under Harvey's shoulder, with Harvey inching a little bit closer. The change in position disorients him a bit, but Harvey squeezes his hand in reassurance, so he steps forward.
He does the same thing as earlier. They do it in one place for a while, and then eventually, he starts taking bigger steps.
It's a bit clunky, in a sense — far from Harvey's fluid, almost floating feel as they glided across the room. Mike moves from one point to another instead of moving in one smooth curve like Harvey, but it's not all that bad.
"Hey," Harvey says.
Mike feels the urge to stop, but instead he slows down.
"Relax," Harvey tells him, squeezing his hand. "You're doing great. A bit tense, but otherwise great," he says with a smile.
Mike replies with a squeeze and by returning to his earlier tempo.
It's still a bit weird and he still prefers being led than leading, so he puts a lot more focus on getting this right.
Which is why when he fucks up, he makes a semi-big deal about it. (He steps on Harvey's foot.) (As if he hasn't done that multiple times that day already.)
"Oh my god, fuck, sorry— I didn't see, are you okay? I'm so sorry," he apologizes, a bit panicked.
"Hey, hey," Harvey says, dragging the hand on Mike's arm up to his shoulder.
"It's okay," he says quietly.
He looks in Mike's eyes, completely earnest. Mike feels him squeeze his hand again and the weight of his hand on his shoulder is something so grounding and the proximity makes him feel Harvey's breath against his lips and his warmth against his skin and it's making Mike dizzy and it's driving him crazy.
And now, he doesn't know what to do.
The music is still playing but he doesn't think his brain can remember how to do the steps after being so overwhelmed by all of that. He makes a move to step forward but Harvey doesn't even flinch, so that tells him Harvey doesn't want to move either.
The two of them are stuck in this heavy moment, inches away from each other, hands on each other's bodies, breaths on each other's lips, and really. Really, when Mike is faced with this, what else can he do?
What else can he do but step forward, move closer, hover his lips over Harvey's and let his eyes flutter shut until Harvey surges forward and kisses him? What else can he do but immediately reciprocate and push back, his hand falling to Harvey's waist, pressing down and using it as leverage to press even closer? What else can he do but pull back for a brief moment, revel in Harvey's glazed eyes, share an incredulous smile with him, then bring their lips together once more? What else can he do but shiver when Harvey's hand runs up his neck, fingers dragging against his scalp as he firmly grips (but doesn't pull on) his hair?
And what else can they do but suddenly (reluctantly) part when the alarm in Harvey's phone goes off?
Harvey turns off the alarm and they stare at each other, out of breath.
They laugh.
"We have to get out of here," Harvey says once he's gotten the laughing out of his system.
"Eager much? I mean, I'm not complaining," Mike teases.
"Funny. But we really do. Someone has this ballroom reserved for right now."
"Fine. One thing before we go, though."
"Hmm?"
Mike grabs Harvey's wrist and tugs him forward, crashing their lips together in one deep, yet brief kiss.
Mike holds Harvey's hand, intertwining their fingers as they leave the ballroom. They find Ray waiting for them at the entrance. They get in the car and Harvey tells him to go to a different address than usual.
"That's not your apartment," Mike points out.
"No, it isn't," Harvey replies confidently.
"Harvey Specter, what are you going to do to me?"
"You said it yourself," Harvey says simply. "I'm taking you out to dinner first."
"First?" Mike's eyebrows raise to his hairline.
Harvey smirks and puts his lips next to Mike's ear, whispering in it.
"First. So then I can touch you. In all… the ways… you want me to."
And, well. What else can Mike do but let him?