Work Text:
“…after the indemnity clause on page three hundred sixty-four-“
Mike snaps out of his reverie as soon as Harvey stops talking. He looks up to find Harvey giving him a look which clearly says, you have not been listening to a word I’ve said, and I expect you to figure out what you’ve already missed, right now.
Mike straightens his spine, clearing his throat nervously as he feverishly replays Harvey’s words, thankful that some small part of his brain was continuing to record, even as the majority of his consciousness focused instead on the cut of Harvey’s suit and the line of his back as he paced in front of the windows in his vest and tie, suit jacket hanging meticulously over the back of his chair.
Mike’s not sure when he stopped thinking of Harvey as Harvey Specter, best closer in NYC and newly-appointed Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, and began thinking of him as Haarrrvveyy, but he’s reasonably certain it’s not a good idea to be harboring sexual fantasies about his boss. Harvey is still looking at him, head cocked in that adorable mannerism he has and remarkably still looking more amused than annoyed, but Mike’s brain finally kicks back into full gear before he can lose himself again, this time contemplating the expressiveness in those intense brown eyes.
“We need to amend the limitation of liability language, clarify the route of arbitration, define governing jurisdiction, and insert mutual indemnification language,” Mike repeats dutifully.
Harvey smirks at him before he turns back to the windows, and Mike tries to concentrate on what the other man is saying, but before long, he’s lost again in the timbre of Harvey’s voice and the slight swell of his arse beneath his trousers. He never notices that all the time he’s staring at Harvey, Harvey is staring back.
***
Harvey has always prided himself on his ability to read people. He can size up a situation and all the players in less time than it takes most people to shake hands.
He’s not usually wrong. Even when he wishes he was.
So when Mike stops looking at him with that you are so cool, I want to be just like you when I grow up look, it takes him by surprise. He’d actually thought they had a deeper connection; sort of a brotherly connection. In his more whimsical private moments, perhaps he’d even thought of Mike as the Robin to his Batman.
But now the kid is looking at him in an entirely different way, and Harvey’s not sure what to make of it.
If he didn’t have good reason to believe that his new associate is straighter than an arrow – Jenny and Rachel being notable examples of the kid’s proclivities – then he might suspect that Mike is mooning after him.
Harvey’s not entirely sure what to make of this new development. And if there’s one thing that crawls into his head and stays there, it’s a situation he can’t read.
***
In the grand scheme of things, Mike’s pretty sure that he is totally, completely, and utterly fucked.
Because, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s in love.
He’s bouncing around like he’s had twelve Red Bulls and ten hours of sleep, and his love of this job doesn’t begin to explain the spring in his step when he heads out of his cramped apartment every morning and heads for Pearson Hardman.
He’s trying not to examine things too closely; trying not to acknowledge the way his heart races and his stomach flutters every time Harvey is anywhere in the vicinity.
If he had to fall for someone, why did it have to be his boss? Worse, why did it have to be his straight boss?
As he sits in his cubicle, slumped in front of his laptop with his earbuds firmly inserted – the better to drown out the incessant tap tap tap of Harold’s pen – he spies Harvey striding down the far corridor. Unconsciously, he straightens his spine, shifting his head to follow Harvey’s progress until he’s out of sight. As soon as Harvey disappears from view again, he can feel himself deflate like a leaky balloon.
Fuck, he is so screwed.
***
The partners’ offices are along the periphery of the floor; reception, the associates’ cubicles, conference rooms, library, break rooms, and lavatories are all crowded into the center around the elevators. A senior partner could easily go months before needing to walk anywhere near the first-year associates, just by virtue of geography.
And yet… Harvey finds himself inventing a reason to walk through the associates’ area several times a day.
Harvey tells himself that it has nothing to do with the fact that Mike visibly perks up every time he walks by. He also tries to convince himself that the fact that his own mood improves so markedly every time he sees the kid has to do with pride and affection, rather than the twinge that’s become impossible to ignore, deep in the pit of his stomach.
That’s what he tells himself, even though he knows it’s not the truth. Because the truth is just a little too close to be comfortable.
He’s not sure when he stopped thinking about Mike as a little brother and started thinking of him like that. Harvey tries to convince himself that it was sometime after the kid started giving him that new, moony look.
He knows that’s not the truth, either.
Because the truth is, it happened as soon as the first puppy analogy was used.
Some mental images can’t be unseen. And Mike Ross, on his knees, flushed and panting, lips swollen…
Harvey gives himself a shake and a stern mental talking-to, but it doesn’t stop him from taking the long way around to Jessica’s office, through the associates’ area.
***
Mike lays back on the sofa in Harvey’s office and closes his eyes, just for a moment. By his calculations, he’s been working for the past 38 hours straight, and his last Red Bull gave out several hours ago. He’d pulled an all-nighter, working his way through several boxes of files that Louis dumped on his desk just before leaving for the night, and then spent all day with Harvey in court. Harvey had disappeared about fifteen minutes ago, summoned to Jessica’s office, and Mike just can’t keep his eyes open for a single second longer.
***
Mike startles awake and bolts upright, his heart pounding as his sleep-addled brain tries to process his surroundings. The feel of the leather beneath his fingers is familiar. Harvey’s office. He must have fallen asleep.
And dreamed about the owner of said office, if his raging hard-on is any indication. He slumps back against the sofa, willing it to subside, while he mentally gives a quick prayer of thanks at not being caught. He’s only halfway through it when he hears Harvey’s voice from behind him.
“You talk in your sleep.”
Mike frantically looks for something to pull onto his lap to hide his condition, but Harvey’s office is devoid of throw pillows, and the files he’d been reading are too far out of reach. He folds his hands over his lap instead, his shoulders hunching as he stares straight ahead, not turning to look in Harvey’s direction.
“Do I?” he asks, as nonchalantly as he can manage.
“You do,” Harvey says, stepping around the sofa and leaning against the edge of his desk, right in front of Mike.
“Sorry,” Mike mutters.
Mike’s still trying to will his traitorous body into obeying him, a battle which is lost when Harvey continues, “Among other things.”
Mike freezes, his blood going cold, as he forces himself to look up into Harvey’s face. “Oh,” he whispers.
Harvey smirks at him, and the ice encasing Mike’s entire body thaws just a little. “I walk in to find you having a wet dream on my sofa and all you have to say is ‘Oh’?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a –“ Mike breaks off as Harvey just cocks his head and quirks his eyebrow in the direction of the evidence. His gaze rests there just a hair’s breadth too long, and Mike clears his throat nervously. “Well, who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?”
“The Marx brothers? Really, that’s what you’re going with?”
Mike shifts uncomfortably and shrugs, conscious that Harvey’s eyes are still upon him, although thankfully now trained a little higher than before. “It sounded better in my head.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Harvey stands, crosses behind his desk, and sits. “Look, rookie, go home. Get some sleep.”
Mike shuffles awkwardly towards the door, gathering his bag and the files they’d been working on as he does. He shoots one terrified glance over his shoulder at Harvey as he reaches the door. Harvey’s immersed in the paperwork on his desk, not even looking in his direction.
Mike turns and flees.
***
As soon as the glass door swings shut behind Mike’s retreating back, Harvey lets out the breath he’d been holding since he told the kid to go home. He looks up, staring at the sofa Mike had just vacated, forcing himself to resist the urge to go over and lie down on it himself, feel the residual heat still present in the supple leather. He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly.
Mike had been dreaming about him. His reaction to Harvey’s presence made that crystal clear, and in that moment of clarity, all the other puzzle pieces had snapped into place in Harvey’s brain.
Mike wants him.
And God help him, he wants Mike right back.
After another moment, Harvey judges that he’s allowed enough time for Mike to collect the rest of his things and take the elevator downstairs. He heads for the bathroom, unsure whether he’s going to lock himself into a stall and jerk off to this new revelation, or simply splash some cold water on his face and get himself under control – at least until he can go home and process this new development.
Once inside the bathroom, the decision is made for him, as one of the other stalls is already occupied. Harvey checks that his sleeves are rolled tightly before running the cold tap and splashing the icy water on his face. He takes a towel and blots his face dry, then runs it under the cold water again and claps it to the back of his neck, staring at himself in the mirror.
Which is how he manages to catch Mike’s eye the moment the other man walks out of the stall and steps up to the sinks to wash his hands.
“Harvey!” Mike exclaims, looking even more terrified than before.
“Mike,” Harvey counters, willing the confident calm into his voice. He’s sure that he can do this, all he has to do is turn and walk out the door, head back to his office and then home. But as he turns to go, he just can’t control his curiosity, the downward flick of his eyes to where Mike’s body had given him away, just a few moments earlier. The bulge in Mike’s trousers is still there, perhaps even more prominent than before, and Harvey clenches his jaw against the groan that threatens to escape him. “I thought I told you to go home.”
“Sorry. I – sorry,” Mike mumbles, ducking his head. “I’ll just be going now, then.” He tries to push past Harvey and, in that split second, Harvey makes his choice, caution be damned. His arm shoots up to bar Mike’s path. Mike’s head snaps up, startled, and he pivots as Harvey moves forward, until they wind up with Mike’s back pressed against the wall and Harvey leaning over him, one palm resting on the wall beside Mike’s head. They stare into each other’s eyes for one long, heartstopping instant, while Harvey tries to figure out what to do next that won’t be a complete ethics violation, not to mention potentially unwanted advances, and then Mike surges forward and presses their lips together and everything that is not simply the two of them together is seared into oblivion.
They pull apart, panting ever so slightly; each staring at the other, unsure of their next moves. Harvey recovers first.
“Mr. Ross, you are trying to seduce me,” he says with a smirk. “Aren’t you?”
Mike, only a second behind, gives him a smirk of his own. “Would you like me to seduce you?”
Harvey’s lips, pressed against Mike’s, give one of his most eloquent replies.
fin