Work Text:
That one guitar, felt good in his hands
Didn't take long, to understand
Just one guitar, slung way down low
Was a one way ticket, only one way to go
"Jukebox Hero" – Foreigner
"Why do you hate me?" Harvey asks as he walks into Jessica’s office.
"Good evening, Harvey. How are you? I’m fine, thank you for asking," she smoothly replies without looking up from her laptop.
Harvey snorts and drops a file on her desk before sitting down in a guest chair. He crosses his legs and brushes down the line of his trousers. Jessica glances at the folder’s tab and amusement plucks at the corners of her lushly shaded lips. She leans back in her chair and regards Harvey with her ‘please continue to bitch so I can tell you why you’re going to do it anyway’ look. He sighs.
"I’m not a babysitter, Jessica," Harvey states.
"You’re a name partner in Pearson-Specter-Litt so you’re whatever the firm needs you to be, Harvey," Jessica says sweetly.
"I didn’t want him as a client in the first place because I knew this sort of shit would be landing on our plate," Harvey grumbles.
Jessica smoothly rises from her desk and walks over to her credenza. She pours the scotch neat and hands a tumbler to Harvey. Outside her windows, the city slips into its dark cloak and dots of light sprinkle across the buildings. Harvey loves the view of his city at night – and he doesn’t want to spend his evening in a downtown lockup.
"Negotiating his recording contracts has brought us a considerable bump in billables, Harvey," Jessica notes. "This is his first … transgression, so to speak."
Harvey sighs heavily. "So send one of the associates – it’s pretty cut and dried from what I can
see. He trashed a hotel room, mouthed off to a police officer and resisted arrest. Hell, even a first-year should be able to get him off with minimum bail and no time."
The words leave his mouth and Jessica’s smile takes on a distinctly shark-like appearance. With a deeply resigned grunt, Harvey finishes his scotch before snatching the file from her desk and leaving without another word. He hates it when she plays the game better than him.
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Sitting on this bar stool talking like a damn fool
Got the twelve o'clock news blues
And I've given up hope on the afternoon soaps
And a bottle of cold brew
Is it any wonder I'm not crazy? Is it any wonder I'm sane at all?
Well I'm so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it
I go out cruisin' but I've no place to go and all night to get there
Is it any wonder I'm not a criminal?
Is it any wonder I'm not in jail?
"Too Much Time On My Hands" - Styx
Harvey does his best not to look around when he enters the precinct. He simply gives his name and client’s name at the desk and waits until he’s led to a private conference room. The Specter charm is absent and Harvey refuses to make small-talk. Lawyers of his caliber only bother when not being forced to mollycoddle Omegas who push their luck with Alpha police officers after destroying property. Harvey blows out a frustrated breath and his thoughts dance randomly from one to another as he waits, none of them regarding the matter at hand. He eyes the stainless steel chairs and table in the room and decides to remain standing while they collect his client. He wonders if he can still make a late dinner at Penrose when he’s done bailing out the latest American-Idol-wanna-be. It occurs to him that he hasn’t heard the band’s music. Harvey rarely listens to the radio anymore; his music tastes more refined now that he’s not a half-stoned college kid. He tries out new stuff on his morning runs sometimes but Harvey seriously doubts his client’s songs would be conducive to an enjoyable workout.
The door opens and an officer leads his client to the table. Whatever Harvey expects Rex Talton, lead singer of the chart-climbing band Rookies to be, it isn’t the young man who obediently shuffles across the concrete floor with his ankles shackled. He watches the officer handcuff Rex to bar bolted to the tabletop and frowns when the Omega looks at him eagerly. Rex smiles and Harvey is caught off-guard by the brightness in the singer’s eyes. The gaze is clear, assessing and a little confused at Harvey’s scrutiny. Rex wears a plain blue t-shirt and tastefully torn jeans with bright red chucks. He looks like he should be going on a date with his girl, not sitting in a New York precinct cuffed and shackled like he was rabid. His hair is cropped short except for longer locks on top that fall over his forehead in a way that just invites someone to brush them back. Harvey grips the file folder a little more tightly.
"So, um … are you the lawyer from the label?" Rex asks.
Harvey blinks, suddenly aware that he’s been staring. Smooth, Specter. He clears his throat.
"Yeah – I mean, yes," Harvey manages, mentally slapping himself.
Rex looks amused. "It’s ok. I promise not to bite. You can actually join me." The Omega indicates the empty chair opposite him.
Harvey shakes his head and looks down at the file to focus himself. "That’s ok, Rex, I –"
"Mike."
Harvey looks up. "What?"
"Rex is my stage name. My real name is Mike Ross."
Harvey shrugs. "Ok, Mike … it looks pretty standard. We’ll get them to reduce the destruction of property to vandalism and –"
"Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?" Mike interrupts.
Harvey’s lips press into a thin line but he keeps his temper, the dazzle of a moment ago fading. He waves the folder. "I have the police report right here."
Mike’s eyes narrow. "Really. What exactly did Officer Friendly put in this sacred report?"
Harvey frowns at the attitude but decides to humor the kid. He looks down. "He states that he was called for a public disturbance involving an Omega waving a broken beer bottle threateningly at an Alpha patron in the hotel lounge. When he arrived he was forced to disarm said Omega and several pieces of furniture were broken in the process when the Omega resisted arrest."
Mike snorts and runs his hands over his face. Harvey peers closer at Mike’s hands when he lets them fall to table again. The knuckles aren’t scraped. Ignoring his early reluctance, Harvey sits at the table and raises an eyebrow to ask Mike if he can touch him. Mike nods, curious. Harvey reaches across and tilts Mike’s chin up with one finger. He wonders how he missed the shiner blossoming on Mike’s left cheekbone and the split lip. As he runs his eyes over Mike again, Harvey blinks in surprise. Mike’s shirt is torn at the shoulder on one sleeve and bruises are darkening on that arm. Harvey walks around to examine the arm closer and startles when Mike shifts abruptly to keep Harvey in his line of sight.
The Alpha raises his hands. "Easy, kid. Just want to look at that paw print you’ve got on your arm. The file said you had minor scrapes and bruises. The Alpha at the bar do this?"
Mike shakes his head in disdain. "Yeah, not hardly. He was just a perv trolling for my ass. That’s from the cop."
"The police officer who arrested you did this?" Harvey asks in surprise.
Mike looks at Harvey clearly thinking: Well, duh. Harvey cocks an eyebrow.
"Alphas, man," Mike grumbles to the ceiling before letting his head drop forward.
Harvey steps forward in shock at what he sees, his fingertips brushing over Mike’s neck. "What the hell--?"
Mike jerks away from Harvey’s querying touch like he’s been burned, his hand going up to cover the back of his neck.
"Hey! Back off, asshole!" Mike snarls.
Harvey takes a wide step back from Mike, his hands up again. His frown is deep and angry. "Who gave you that, Mike?"
Mike rubs his neck gingerly and shrugs. "What difference does it make? You wanna plead me down to vandalism and disturbing the peace, fine. Better for the press anyway."
Harvey crosses his arms. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
Mike looks up at Harvey and the Alpha has to clench his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open as sky blue eyes regard him coolly from underneath dark blonde bangs. He thanks God that he’s well-practiced at keeping his scent from spiking because even pissed as hell, Mike Ross is damn good-looking.
"You already made up your mind when you walked in here, Alpha," Mike says. The designation fairly drips with disgust. "I’m just another Omega who didn’t let some asshole talk dirty to me and try to cop a feel in a bar. I shouldn’t have been there alone in the first place, right? I should be properly mated with an Alpha to protect me, right? Never mind that the bastard tried to put his hand down the back of my jeans! No, I shouldn’t have been there in the first place, tempting him with my scent, driving him crazy. What did I expect?’
Harvey purses his lips. He’s heard the arguments before on the news – stories of Omega abuse that are almost always flipped around to blame the victims. As he looks at Mike, he wonders how many of them gave up just like this; unwilling to fight a system determined to keep them submissive and hidden. Harvey flips one of the info sheets over and lays his pen on it.
"We’re going to talk about your version of events, Mike, but first things first," Harvey says as he walks over to the door and hits the call button.
The officer who opens the door is a Beta. She’s about a foot shorter with olive skin, amber eyes and glossy black hair pulled back into a severe queue. Something tells Harvey that, Alpha or no, all his fight training would be for naught if she decided he’d stepped out of line.
"My client needs a medical exam," Harvey says, glancing at her name tag. "Can you get EMTs here, Officer Valens?"
She gestures Harvey back into the room and closes the door behind her. Walking to the table, she motions for Mike to stand. After he does, she looks him over briskly. She picks up the arrest sheet and looks it over, comparing the injury notations to Mike’s visible injuries. Harvey waits, unsure if she will have an open mind or simply go along with her fellow officers. Her darkening expression tells him they might be lucky.
"Let me see your neck," Valens orders.
Mike ducks his head and Harvey winces. The back of an Omega’s neck is a natural pressure point that causes them to go limp when gripped much like a cat. Harvey knows it has something to do with their ancestor’s biology and the Alpha instinct to hold and claim a Mate. In the modern world, it’s an oft-used control technique – consensual and otherwise. Police in New York are forbidden to use it because an Omega pinned by the neck cannot communicate well. It’s too easy to injure them. However, Mike’s neck bears the unmistakable shape of a hand – the deep purple mottling tells Harvey whoever gripped him there did so with far too much force. An Alpha police officer would be capable of leaving marks like that behind. Officer Valens seems too familiar with Mike’s injury based on the disgusted noise she makes.
"I’ll call a bus. He’ll be examined here and they will determine if he requires more extensive treatment. Fair?"
Harvey nods. "Fair. Thank you, officer."
"Don’t thank me yet. Your boy resisted arrest and the powers-that-be don’t like mouthy Omegas."
She closes the door and Harvey looks over at Mike. He sits down and picks up his pen. "Ok, so while we wait, why don’t you tell me a bedtime story?"
------------------------------------------------------------------
Harvey takes notes and records Mike on his phone. He listens and fights to keep his temper in check.
"It was just supposed to be a stupid beer," Mike says tiredly. "The crew … the band … everyone went clubbing tonight and I just wanted a fucking beer. I figured the lounge would be safe enough. I hate clubs because Alphas are so fucking handsy when they’re drunk. I wasn't in the mood."
Harvey meets Mike’s eyes, expecting the Omega will apologize for his blanket comment but he doesn’t. Harvey chuckles, amused.
"Well, I don’t think I am," Harvey comments.
"Yeah? I’ll remind you when we have our first date," Mike retorts.
"First date? Kind of sure of yourself, there, kid," Harvey replies.
Mike rolls his eyes. "Let me guess … you believe the Alpha should be the aggressor."
Harvey leans back. "It is our nature, yes. I’m not going to apologize for that."
"So you don’t like me coming on to you," Mike persists.
Harvey shakes his head. "Strike one, kid. If I’m attracted to someone, I don’t really care what their designation is."
"Uh-huh … so you’ve done the horizontal tango with another Alpha?"
Harvey grimaces. "Horizontal tango? Really? And who I sleep with isn’t up for discussion."
Mike chuckles. "So … are you attracted to me?"
"Strike two … it would be unethical for me to be involved with my client," Harvey replies.
"Who’s getting involved? I’m just asking if you think I’m pretty," Mike taunts.
Harvey smiles and taps his phone. "Back to the reason we’re having this conversation in a jail, Mike. What happened in the lounge."
Mike’s face falls and Harvey finds himself wishing they were somewhere else talking about all this over the beer Mike had failed to enjoy. He waits while Mike gathers his thoughts.
"So the asshole –"
Harvey consults the file. "Mr. Timothy Prast."
"Whatever, sure … Mr. Timothy Prast comes into the lounge and decides that out of all the empty seats he has to take the one next to me," Mike says. "I ignore him but he starts up with the small talk. So I try to be polite but I’m about ready to give up on the beer and go back to my room."
Harvey nods and makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture. Mike sighs and Harvey sees his hands clench into fists.
"I knocked the beer off the bar top – he leaned in and asked if I was …" Mike stops, his breath a little faster.
"Mike? It’s ok," Harvey assures the Omega. "Take your time."
"Don’t tell me to calm down, Alpha!" Mike snaps angrily. "He fucking stuck his hand down the seat of my jeans and asked me if I was wet for him. I jumped off my stool but his hand was caught – stupid cheap watch – and he got pulled off his chair. My arms went wide and I knocked the beer off the bar onto his dumbass head. I pulled his hand out of my ass and shoved him away from me." Mike leans forward and laces his fingers together over the back of his head. "He slapped the hell out of me – seriously, who decided Alpha’s get all the upper arm strength? Then he starts screaming that I assaulted him and I’m just standing there like a moron. Bartender calls the cops and Officer Friendly –"
Harvey corrects him. "Officer Brendle."
Mike glares but forces out, "Officer Brendle arrived and took Mr. Prast’s statement. When he started saying I broke the bottle and was waving it at him like a thug, I step up to get the story told right and next thing I know is Brendle has a hold of my arm and Prast is yelling how I’m about to do it again. I tried to pull away and that tore my shirt. He flipped me around and pinned me on the floor. I thought – I thought he was going to fucking snap my neck. He said he didn’t appreciate knot-sluts that stir up all the good Omegas."
"Knot-slut? He called you that?"
"Yeah, but I hear that at least ten times a day," Mike confesses.
"What were you doing that would have ‘stirred up’ other Omegas?"
Mike stares at him for a moment. "Do you know anything about me?"
Harvey bristles. "I know you’ve got a quick wit which probably translates into ‘mouthy Omega’ to a cop like Brendle. You’re the lead singer of a band and I don’t need to know much more than that, do I?"
Mike huffs a laugh. "Gee, and here I thought we were gonna be friends – yeah, sure, Alpha. What else do you need to know? ‘I’m just a singer in a rock and roll band’, right?"
"Moody Blues, Seventh Sojourn," Harvey returns. "See? I’m hip. Look, did I know much about you before I came in here tonight? No. I can admit I’m an asshole. Do you want blood or will an apology do?"
"Wow, I was impressed until the ‘hip’ comment. Buy me waffles when we get out of here and we’ll talk apology."
"Mike."
The Omega grins cheekily. "Fine. Look, Brendle was talking about my lyrics. Listen to a couple of the songs and you’ll get it. I’m just saying I get called every name in the book for Omegas with loose morals on a daily basis. It’s not new," Mike explains.
Harvey’s eyes narrow. He feels something he hasn’t felt in years – the urge to protect an Omega. He knows this wouldn’t be welcomed by Mike in the least and he knows it’s not even remotely ethical. Yet, there it is. A warmth in his chest wrapped around a small ball of anger that anyone on God’s green Earth would think to speak to an Omega like Mike in such a way let alone lay hands on him. He doesn’t realize he’s growling until Mike slaps the table in front of him, snapping him back to reality.
"Down, boy!" Mike barks with an annoyed look.
Harvey flushes. It’s been too long since he was overwhelmed like this … he opens his mouth to apologize, but there’s a buzz at the door. The EMTs have arrived.
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Harvey watches while the EMTs gather their equipment and leave the interview room. He looks down at the copy of the sheet detailing the Omega’s injuries. What echoes in his mind and chills him is the notation on the sheet – "Injuries consistent with overly aggressive Alpha restraint by responding officer." It’s worded specifically to make the incident sound normal. Sure, the officer injured the Omega in question but he did by accident. He did it because he’s too dedicated to his fucking job to rein himself in sometimes. We won’t hold that against him, will we?
"Harvey?"
Mike looks curiously at his lawyer. His lips curl into a rueful smile. "Let me guess … "Officer Friendly just got carried away when he restrained me?"
"That sounded suspiciously like ‘been there, done that’." Harvey says over the paper.
Mike snorts. "Since I was old enough to know what ‘Omega’ meant, Harvey." He makes a dismissive sound. "No big. I’ve had worse."
Harvey tries not to think about what ‘worse’ could possibly mean. "Well, Officer Friendly just bought himself a little vacation if I have anything to say about it. I’ve got to go make some phone calls but you’ll be out of here by morning."
"It’s already morning, Harvey," Mike says with an unintended yawn to make his point.
Harvey nods. "Later this morning, then. Can you hold out a little longer?"
"No problemo, Mr. Specter," Mike says cheerfully.
Harvey rolls his eyes. "I never thought I’d say this but just call me Harvey."
"Aww, you like me," Mike teases.
"Kid, you’re the reason I’m in a police precinct with floors that look like a mop touched them sometime back when Carter was president and not listening to the best jazz in the city over a mid-rare steak with a particularly smooth bourbon," Harvey says, unable to keep his smile from bleeding out. "I don’t do that for just anyone."
Mike’s laugh mentally follows Harvey out of the building. He tries not to notice how it slides smoothly into him and spreading comfortable warmth through his gut – far better than any liquor he’s had in his entire life.
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Sunrise, creepin' in your eyes
Cold empty side walks
Miles away from trustin' someone
Far from giving up
"Troubled Child" – Journey
"What do you mean he won’t come out?" Harvey asks, exasperated.
After two hours of waking up a judge and the District Attorney – God, he was going to owe Cameron Dennis forever – Harvey had managed to get the charges against Mike dropped. Officer Brendle, while not suspended as Harvey would have preferred, would still have a formal reprimand in his file outlining his unnecessary brutality. It’s a minor victory but for some reason it makes Harvey’s Alpha-brain want to preen and receive gratitude from the Omega he helped.
Unfortunately, said Omega is being a pain in the ass.
"He wants you to come back to holding so he can explain," Officer Valens explains cryptically.
"Oh for –" Harvey starts.
Valens, however, lays her hand on his arm. "Just … I think you need to come and see this."
Intrigued, Harvey follows the officer down a labyrinth of halls through a couple of security doors until he’s in holding. Four cells packed with the dregs of the night and one that holds two individuals. Harvey snorts at the so-called "Omega cell" which is technically supposed to separate Omegas from Alphas during booking to help keep Omegas ‘safe’ and ‘calm’. However, since the cells are comprised of only bars and wire mesh, there’s nothing to prevent the scent of randy, aggressive Alphas from permeating the entire area.
Normally, holding would be deafening with catcalls and chatter as the business of taking criminals off the street went on but Harvey is surprised to find the room fairly quiet. He zeroes quickly in on the reason why – Mike is singing to his cellmate. Harvey walks over with Valens and his throat feels tight when they get close enough to scent the occupants. Mike’s scent is light and slightly spiced – Harvey isn’t sure how he missed that before. The other Omega’s scent is floral, designating a youth not quite to Presentation age yet. Harvey wouldn’t need the smell to tell him that – the kid leaning against Mike can’t be over thirteen. Long, unkempt hair falls over his eyes and the red hoodie he’s wearing looks at least a size or two too big – even the chewed up tennis shoes peeking out from ragged jeans look too big for the kid’s frame. Every Alpha instinct he has screams at him to bundle the kid off and wrap him in bunting to keep the world at bay. What is it with Omegas making him care today? He looks at Valens with a questioning eyebrow darting up. She sighs.
"Picked him up hunting johns down under the bridge," she says.
Harvey blinks. "Johns? He’s barely –"
"Old enough to know this world isn’t an Omega fairy tale if you don’t have anyone that gives a shit about you," Valens finishes sharply. "He’ll go into the system now."
" … young blood, cry tough, mean street run … there's a hunger inside you … desperate rebel runaway … far from giving up …"
Mike’s voice is soft and clear. The lyrics hit Harvey as he watches the younger Omega pull up his legs and hug his knees to make himself small.
"Someday, someway, all very soon … you'll end, long nights … chasin' the moon …"
How long have you chased the moon, Mike? Harvey wonders as he walks up to the cell.
Mike looks up. Tired sadness is written all over his face – it’s an expression Harvey finds himself hating viciously.
"Easy, Alpha," Mike cautions. He glances down at the young man now trying to crawl behind him.
Harvey feels his face grow warm as he realizes he’s growling softly. The gallery of Alphas around him begin to taunt and make kissing sounds at them. In all his years as a professional, Harvey has honed his ability to maintain calm in the worst situations. He never lets anyone see his cards – it’s what makes him the best at what he does. Since meeting Mike, it seems all he can do is act the stereotypical Alpha; growling and glaring at any and all comers. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
"Harvey, this is Dane … Dane, this is the Alpha I was telling you about," Mike introduces. "He’s going to help us."
"Mike, I just got you cleared to leave."
"And I’m not going until I’m sure Dane is alright," Mike replies.
The stubborn expression on Mike’s face makes Harvey want to shake the Omega because he knows he’s going to give in and do whatever Mike asks. It’s incredibly frustrating and strangely enticing at the same time. He puts on his best irritated face to hide his sudden, annoying attack of feelings.
"And what would you like me to do with Dane, Mike? He’s not my client. You are," Harvey responds.
Mike peels Dane’s hands from his shirt and with a few whispered words, walks over to the front of the cell. Harvey has to fight not to take a step back from the sparking gaze.
"Harvey, I’ve been where he is and I need you to help me with this," Mike says firmly.
Harvey realizes that Mike isn’t going to back down. "Alright, but at least you can leave –"
The red hood comes up and Mike is practically slammed into the bars when Dane crashes into him, clinging desperately to Mike’s waist.
"No no no! You said you’d stay! You said you wouldn’t leave me here! Please don’t go, please Mike, please don’t leave me here!" Dane babbles, tears cutting light streaks on a face Harvey realizes hasn’t seen water or soap in a few days.
"Hey, kid, it’s ok … I was going to ask Mike to leave the name of whoever I have to contact, alright? Didn’t mean to say he’s got to leave you."
Dane is too upset to care that he’s being fast-talked by an Alpha. The young boy’s scent punches Harvey in the gut screaming wrong bad distress fear – like a spring meadow full of rotting flowers. While Mike gentles the frightened youth, Harvey realizes that Dane is far from the street tough he assumed earlier. Instead, he sees a little boy who should be going to school and playing ball and making friends, not trying to pick up whatever Alpha will take him for enough cash to eat on. Harvey turns away because just looking at the kid is making his stomach twist in ways he does not enjoy.
"Father Walker," Mike’s voice cuts through Harvey’s fog.
Harvey pulls out his phone and taps in the information Mike gives him. He nods and walks out of the room before he loses what little control he has left. The phone rings as he ducks into an empty interview room and a tired voice answers.
"Yes?"
"Father Walker?"
A yawn sounds over the phone. "Sorry … yes, I’m Father Walker … who is this?"
"My name is Harvey Specter … I’m an attorney for Mike Ross," Harvey says.
The voice is tense. "Is he in trouble?"
"Not anymore," Harvey replies, forcing his voice to remain calm. "However there is an Omega here … young kid who got picked up on prostitution charges ... Mike wants you to come get him."
"Which precinct?"
Harvey gives the number. He hears a relieved sigh. "Is Officer Valens on duty?"
"Yes … she’s with me right now."
"Let me talk to her, please," Father Walker says.
Harvey frowns but hands over his phone to the officer. Their conversation is brief and when she hands the phone back, Father Walker has already ended the call. Harvey’s frown deepens.
"Did I need to be here for any of this?"
Valens chuckles. "I think your client wanted you to have the ‘full-body experience’ as it were."
Harvey blows out a frustrated breath. "He’s just a baby … the kid, I mean."
The officer nods. "Yeah and every day I see more and more just like him – Omegas who have no family to look out for them and more than a few whose families want to use them however they can. A cherry like that kid? He’d go for big bucks if the wrong crew found him. He’s lucky – Father Walker runs a shelter through his church. He pulls the ones he can off the streets and gives them a chance. More than what they’d get if they stayed in the system."
"What about registering? There are foster homes out there for just this reason," Harvey counters.
Valens snorts. "Talk to your client, lawyer man. You of all people know the law isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on most of the time – unless someone enforces it."
Harvey growls and goes back to the lobby to wait. Father Walker arrives in a little less than thirty minutes, clothes rumpled and hair barely combed into something coherent. A short Beta, the man is older than Harvey but his face shows years beyond even that. He walks over to greet the priest.
"Father Walker? Harvey Specter."
The Beta shakes Harvey’s hand and then goes back to filling out paperwork. "I’m grateful Mike had you call me, Mr. Specter."
"How does this work?" Harvey asks. "You just show up and take the kid back to the church?"
Father Walker’s mouth quirks. "Essentially – I will have to pay whatever fines he’s incurred and see to it that he goes to court if required. My guess is he’s been walking the city, sleeping where he can and hunger drove him to try selling himself. He’ll come back with me and register as an orphan. The church will claim him and he’ll live with us until he’s an adult."
Harvey blinks at the flat way Father Walker talks about Dane’s situation. He walks with the priest to the pick-up area. When the door opens, Mike walks in with Dane clutching him. A smile, the likes of which Harvey hasn’t seen on Mike yet, breaks through the elder Omega’s mask. It’s open and full of true affection for the man of the cloth before him. Harvey finds himself tracing over the dimple parentheses that appear around Mike’s mouth and noting the way the slight unshaven scruff highlights the Omega’s jawline. The pale blue eyes seem to sparkle with honest pleasure at seeing the man and Harvey internally shakes his head at the jealousy nipping at his brain. He watches Father Walker intently, cataloging the man’s every move because his Alpha brain is furious at having to share that smile with a Beta of all things. A finger snap in front of his face brings Harvey back to reality for the umpteenth time since he met Mike.
"Seriously, Harvey, am I going to have to muzzle you?" Mike says.
Harvey is grateful to see humor in Mike’s gaze. Father Walker is talking quietly to Dane, explaining what will happen now. It eases Harvey’s Alpha instincts to smell the young boy’s scent relaxing into something like lavender potpourri. There’s a muted bitterness but at least Dane seems to be feeling safer. Harvey signs the release forms for Mike and pauses before asking for Dane’s as well. He puts himself down as the boy’s attorney before turning for the door to avoid the three sets of eyes looking at him.
"Car’s leaving in fifteen, Mike. Father, can we drop you off?" Harvey says curtly.
"That’s alright, Mr. Specter. I think Dane and I will be just fine," Father Walker says with a smile.
Mike pauses on the steps outside the precinct. The sun is coming up. Dane timidly comes up to the older Omega who pulls him into a tight hug.
"You hang in there, kid, ok? Father Walker is someone you can trust. He’ll take good care of you but you have to let him," Mike says.
"Can I – will I – I mean," Dane stammers.
"I don’t get back to New York as often as I want," Mike offers gently. "But you can ask Father Walker to email me any time, Dane. I always answer, ok?"
Dane nods, face falling like he’s heard it all before. Mike crouches to look up into Dane’s face. He tips the boy’s chin up with a knuckle.
"I know it sounds like a blow-off, kiddo. It’s not. Life just goes this way sometimes but you have a real chance here, ok? You can make a life for yourself and no one else can take it from you," Mike promises.
"M’scared," Dane mutters, tears beginning to flow once more. "What if –?"
Mike hugs Dane again. "Don’t worry about that … you’ve got more chops than I did at your age. You’re gonna do fine."
"Really?" Dane questions doubtfully.
"Absolutely. I promise I won’t forget you, ok? I’ll be checking in, so you keep your nose clean. Harvey here will tell me if you step out of line," Mike warns.
Harvey purses his lips and gives Mike a Really? look before smiling at the now wary Dane. "Don’t listen to him, kid. I promise I’ll only tell if you rob a bank or something."
Dane giggles and tucks his head against Mike’s shoulder. "M’not gonna rob a bank!" he protests.
Harvey shrugs. "You never know … it’s always the quiet ones that make the most noise."
"Amen to that," Father Walker intercedes. "We need to get going, Dane. Mike?" The two embrace like old friends before the priest offers his hand to Harvey. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Specter."
Harvey shakes the man’s hand and is taken off guard when Dane steps up to him, lower lip gripped between his teeth as he tentatively holds out his small hand. Harvey regards the boy for a moment, and then gently taps the boy’s mouth to make him release his lip. He brushes the dark, lank hair back from the Omega’s face.
"Look me in the eye … yep. Now chin up, shoulders back, stand up straight – that’s it. Walk like you own the place and never let anyone brush you off," Harvey counsels.
Dane considers this and nods. "I won’t, Mr. Specter. Promise." He holds his hand out again only with intent and Harvey can’t help but grin.
"Mob enforcer if ever I saw one," he teases, shaking Dane’s hand firmly.
The boy laughs, the worries of the moment finally melting away to reveal the child beneath. It makes Harvey’s throat tighten. He gives Father Walker his card and writes Donna’s name on the back.
"Tell Donna who you are and she’ll put you through as soon as she can unless I’m in court. We’ll make an appointment to discuss Dane’s case – if this is really his first offense, I’m pretty certain I can get it tossed," Harvey says. "No promises but at the very least I can bargain him down to community service instead of a fine."
Father Walker shoots a sideways glance at Mike before smiling. "Thank you, Mr. Specter. Anything is appreciated."
Harvey watches Father Walker walk off with Dane’s hand in his own and swallows the lump in his throat. A bump against his shoulder brings his attention back to Mike.
"Should I be worried that I’ve usurped by an 11-year-old?"
Harvey gapes at Mike before staring in disbelief at the pair fading into the distance. "Eleven? What the hell is an eleven-year-old pup doing soliciting? And do I look like I’m a pedophile?!"
Mike snorts. "Calm down, big city lawyer. Let’s get out of here … you owe me breakfast."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Let's go down to the Sunset Grill
We can watch the working girls go by
Watch the "basket people" walk around and mumble
And stare out at the auburn sky
There's an old man there from the Old World
To him, it's all the same
Calls all his customers by name
Down at the Sunset Grill
"Sunset Grill" – Don Henley
Harvey eyes the corner diner warily as he steps out of the car. Mike rolls his eyes and holds the door open.
"Come on, Alpha. I’m starving!"
"Are you sure you want to remedy that here?" Harvey asks with a raised eyebrow.
Mike chuckles and slides onto a stool at the counter. He pats the red vinyl beside him. "Have a seat, Harvey."
Harvey eases onto the stool and rolls his eyes when he has to look at a menu made up of plastic letters stuck to a board. He orders toast and coffee. Mike snorts and orders a bacon double cheeseburger with onion rings and what has to be the largest malted Harvey has ever seen in his life. He eyes Mike’s thin frame.
"That’s not waffles and where the hell do you put it?" Harvey mutters.
Mike chuckles and spoons up a little of the malt. Harvey studies the diner’s nondescript décor to keep from having improper fantasies of Mike sucking on the straw. Harvey sips his coffee, wincing at the bitterness.
"Trust me, I could eat five of these and if I didn’t die of a heart attack first, I’d burn it all off on stage," Mike explains.
"Have to admit, I pictured something entirely different based on your file," Harvey says, stealing an onion ring.
"Do I want to know?"
Harvey shrugs. "More Ozzy, less Kenny G."
Mike groans. "Kenny G? Really? God, I don’t know if I can eat anymore … Kenny G?"
The laugh that bubbles out of Harvey at Mike’s wounded expression surprises the Alpha. It’s been a long time since he’s laughed so honestly about anything. He plucks another onion ring from Mike’s plate eliciting an outraged squawk from the Omega. Mike slides his plate away, curling his hands around it.
"Hey! Buy your own!"
"Technically, I’m buying those," Harvey points out.
Mike shakes his head. "Taking food from a helpless Omega … shame on you, Harvey."
Another snort escapes Harvey. "Kid, I’ve only known you a few hours and ‘helpless’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe you."
Mike grins and tucks into his cheeseburger again. Harvey orders more onion rings and a Coke for himself.
"You caught me on a slow night," Mike says around a mouthful. "If you’ve seen my file you’ve seen what happened in Berlin. I’m no saint."
Harvey chuckles. "Thank God."
Mike casts a sideways look at Harvey but doesn’t comment. The Alpha takes a sip of his Coke. "So how many of your fans know this Mike?"
"I barely know this Mike … it’s been a while since I’ve had enough downtime to be myself. If I’d gone out with the guys? Would have been a totally different conversation in that interview room. You would have been talking to Rex, not Mike."
Harvey pushes an onion ring around his plate. He looks up and finds himself looking into pale blue eyes that are searching for something – something far deeper than Harvey has ever allowed himself to feel. He smiles and suddenly his knuckles brushing against the back of Mike’s hand feels right. It feels perfect. Mike’s hand stays put, answering his silent question.
"I’m glad I met Mike first," Harvey says softly.
Mike drops his eyes, an unconscious gesture of submission. It’s all Harvey can do to keep his Alpha under control so he sits back and finishes off his soda in a rattle of ice cubes. When he looks back, Mike is looking at his plate.
"Mike?"
"Thought it was unethical for you to pursue me since I’m your client," Mike says.
Harvey senses he’s treading on unstable ground. "It is. However, if I gave you to my partner, we could be safely assured of no conflict."
"What, you wouldn’t be telling your partner how to manage me?"
"Oh, I totally would, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s the reason I’m here … when I most definitely did not want to be," Harvey confesses.
Mike laughs. "Yeah, you should have seen your face when you came into the interview room. You looked like someone took away your favorite toy."
Harvey’s mind darts to his long-forgotten dinner plans. And for the someone he’d hoped would join him for said dinner plans. "Scotty is going to make me pay for this one."
Mike’s expression shutters. "Scotty? Your Omega?"
"No. Scotty’s a Beta and we went to Harvard together. We see each other off and on but it’s not exclusive," Harvey explains. "She’s going to make me pay because while I doubt she sat up all night waiting for my call, she did expect me to call. She doesn’t like to be stood up."
Mike makes a non-committal noise and orders another milkshake to Harvey’s amusement.
"Honestly, Mike, do you have a hollow leg?"
The Omega sticks his tongue out at Harvey and this time, the Alpha doesn’t stop the way his voice dips into the lower registers.
"Might want to be careful where that tongue goes, Mike," Harvey rumbles.
Harvey’s Alpha is more than pleased to see a deep blush creep up Mike’s long, gorgeous neck and into his hairline. The Omega swallows hard and shakes his head.
"Do-down, boy," Mike manages, stammering.
Harvey withdraws content that he’s made his intent known but not wanting to drive Mike off with the usual Alpha aggression. He waits for the waitress to bring him another Coke and then looks down at his phone. Donna has been texting him steadily wanting to know what in the hell has him so tied up. He closes the screen.
"So your manager … Trevor? … called our firm to get you bailed out. Why didn’t he meet us at the precinct?" Harvey asks. Mike’s tired conversation with someone on the way to the diner had intrigued Harvey.
Mike shrugs. "Trev is just pissed at me. And probably really hung over – he went back to the club after he called you guys."
"Nice," Harvey comments, not impressed with the man already.
"Trev’s ok … we’ve been best friends since we were fifteen. He’s seen me in worse jams than this – for once it wasn’t my fault. Besides, the show isn’t for another two days. I won’t miss any practice runs now thanks to you," Mike explains.
Harvey feels his Alpha side preen over Mike’s praise. Every time he does something for Mike, he finds himself wanting to do so much more. It’s unsettling to the Alpha after so many years of not wanting a Mate.
"So how do you know the good Father?" Harvey asks to distract his brain.
Mike sighs and puts his burger down. He drinks a little more of his malted and seems to consider something before he looks over at Harvey who is uneasy at Mike’s suddenly bitter scent.
"Mike?"
"I know him because he got me off the street like Dane. It’s a long story," Mike replies slowly, blue eyes studying Harvey as if waiting for judgment.
Harvey holds Mike’s gaze steadily but without criticism. He seems genuinely interested which sends a warm pulse through Mike. The Alpha, aside from his arrogant nature, has been decent all night. He jumped to a few conclusions but Mike has to admit, Harvey adapted quickly once he saw the evidence clearly. Mike suddenly wants to find out what the dark hair feels like in his hands and exactly what those chocolate-colored eyes look like in the early morning light. He wants to hear that Alpha voice directed at him in the dark.
"Tell me or not, Mike. I don’t want to bring up bad memories," Harvey assures Mike.
"No personal vetting process for the Omegas you take to bed?" Mike deadpans.
Harvey gestures at the car. "I think your file was pretty thorough on most of your wrongdoing, but feel free to lighten your soul if you need to."
Mike chuckles but it has no humor. "My file mention I was expelled from college?"
Harvey thinks. "I vaguely recall it mentioning you attended Columbia for what I thought was a rather short time. I thought you dropped out."
"Nope. I got caught selling test answers to the Dean’s daughter. He got canned and I got expelled and there went my aspirations of Harvard Law," Mike sums up.
Harvey’s eyebrow darts up. "Harvard Law?"
Mike chuckles. "What, Alpha, don’t I look like the lawyer sort to you?"
The smile that goes across Harvey’s face makes Mike’s toes curl inside his shoes. His Omega knows he’s please the Alpha but he’s not exactly sure how.
"So tell me, what do you know about law?"
Mike sips his milkshake and a mischievous grin turns up his lips. "I passed the bar."
"Bullshit."
"I’m assuming you have the BARBRI app?"
Harvey nodded.
"Pull up something … anything. Read it to me."
Harvey regards Mike for a moment and then logs into the app, scrolling till he finds a random passage.
"Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors –"
"—including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves." Mike completes the sentence smoothly.
Harvey looks up with a frown. "How did you know that?"
"I learned it when I studied for the bar."
Harvey scents no deceit from the Omega but his mind refuses to let him accept things just yet. He turns to face Mike directly.
"Alright, hotshot. Pick a topic and let’s see what you’ve got," Harvey challenges.
Mike seems to consider this and says, "Stock option backdating."
"Although backdating options is legal, violations arise related to disclosures under IRC section 409A," Harvey replies smugly.
Mike munches on an onion ring. "You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley."
"The statute of limitations renders Sarbanes-Oxley moot post-2007," Harvey counters.
Mike nods. "But not if you can find actions to cover up the violation as established in the sixth circuit, May 2008."
Harvey gapes. He can’t help it. He’s never met anyone like Mike before and he knows a lot of lawyers. A lot of really good lawyers.
"How can you know all that?"
"I like to read. What I read, I understand and once I understand something … I never forget it."
"Why take the bar?"
"Dickhead Alpha bet me I couldn’t pass it without going to law school."
"Then why did you get yourself kicked out of school selling a fucking test?" Harvey asks.
Mike sighs. "Trevor got into trouble with a dope dealer. He needed cash fast and I memorized the test to help him. We just sold it to the wrong person."
Harvey swallows down the growl that threatens. It’s a certainty he will never like this Trevor asshole.
"So … Trevor seems to have a habit of just leaving you to your own devices."
Mike’s brows darken. "Trevor was my first friend after … look, just to get this out of the way, here’s my backstory. My parents died, I went to live with my grandmother … who then also died when I was fourteen. I didn’t want to register and go live with some foster family. I was scared. So I make the brilliant decision to hitchhike to New York … found a trucker who said he was a Beta. He said he could take me all the way. He did and I didn’t realize he was really an Alpha until we were in the middle of nowhere Texas and he was holding me down in his cab," Mike grinds out. "I made it to New York. I didn’t know anyone or anything, really so I worked the streets until I turned fifteen. Father Walker sends out fake johns to try and get kids like me and Dane off the street. One of them picked me up and took me to the church. I had my first meal in a week and they told me I didn’t have to live that way. I took a chance and the rest is history. I met Trevor at the orphanage."
"How did you get from on track to go to Harvard law to being a rockstar?" Harvey asks, trying desperately to ignore the knot in his stomach.
"After I got expelled, I spent a lot of time smoking what Trevor sold," Mike admits. He has no idea why it’s so easy to tell Harvey this. "One night he bets me I wouldn’t do the open mic night, so I did."
"What song?"
Mike smiles, remembering. "The Flame, Cheap Trick."
Harvey chuckles. "A classic ballad … always a good choice." He doesn’t mention that it was one of his favorites back in the day. He has a reputation after all.
"Anyway, I got rave reviews, I came back for a few more gigs, one thing lead to another and suddenly I’ve got a band and we’re going on tour," Mike continues. "I love the traveling but I hate it too. Coming home this trip was something I was really looking forward to – I was hoping for some downtime outside the show."
Harvey feels a sense of calm roll over him. Reaching out tentatively, he takes the Omega’s hand. Mike’s flirtations weren’t so far off the mark and Harvey has a sense of ‘this is right’ settling in his gut.
Mike tenses but doesn’t pull away. He looks at the Alpha’s hand covering his own. Warmth spreads up his arm and Mike’s eyes find Harvey’s again. Very few people know his life story besides Trevor and Father Walker … Harvey’s dark gaze does not pity. Coupled with the Alpha’s scent, Harvey’s eyes tell Mike he’s furious that this happened to him but desirous to ensure nothing like it ever happens to the Omega again.
"Harvey?"
"This is insane," the lawyer begins. "I’ve only known you for a few hours but … I want to formally ask your permission to court you. I want – hell, I want more than that. I want you to be my Omega."
Mike blinks in shock. He looks at the Alpha sitting across from him. He’s learned to trust his instincts but even so, Mike is wary. Alphas have only ever wanted one thing from him and since his time on the street, Mike has never spent the night with an Alpha. He’s had Beta and Omega lovers but never an Alpha. Now, after a night of sitting in jail talking to a man who was dismissive of him at first, Mike finds himself wanting to respond and make that look turn possessive. Mike wants to see and smell Mate on Harvey. ‘Insane’ doesn’t begin to cover it.
Still, Mike tries to deflect. "Harvey, I’m not – I’m not part of your world."
"I’m not part of yours," Harvey points out. "Does it matter?"
"I can’t –"
Harvey chuckles and his hand tightens around Mike’s. "I’m not asking to court you because I think you’ll be a good accessory on my arm. I’m asking because you move me like no other Omega I’ve ever known, Mike. Everything I saw in you, heard from you … it made me want to give you the fucking world. I’m not perfect and we’re probably going to want to kill each other on a daily basis but I think … I know we can make this work."
Mike swallows. "I’m not giving up –"
"I wouldn’t ask you to, Mike. If you decide to quit, though, I think you’ve got a real shot at being a lawyer. Harvard isn’t the only law school in the country," Harvey says. He releases Mike’s hand and studies the chipped countertop. "I know I’m doing the ‘Alpha thing’ but I go after what I want. I want you. I won’t push you though if you don’t think –"
"Yeah, I’m not much on overthinking, Harvey," Mike grins. "And the ‘Alpha thing’ is beginning to grow on me." He considers. "I accept. Do your worst, Alpha."
Harvey’s grin is a mile wide and it makes Mike’s toes curl again. He leans forward and his lips find Harvey’s unerringly. The kiss is chaste, but it makes the Omega in him purr. In the back of his mind is a voice screaming at him about all the things Alphas have ever done to him and the reason he writes the songs he does – and another, softer voice whispers that Harvey isn't like all the other Alphas. He looks into the dark eyes and thinks maybe it's time to write a new song.