Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wasn’t sure if Jessica was clued in. Initially, anyway.

He wondered if she had rationalized his adolescent appearance, assuming he was late to puberty. He questioned if she had noticed something, anything, that gave it away. Maybe his hips—unusually wide for a male. Maybe his thighs—disproportionately broad for a guy. Or maybe, more logically, she’d seen the signs and gone looking. His birth certificate, old elementary school records, the memories of distant family members, that picture of him twirling in a skirt that his father plastered on that compilation album: anything could have tipped her off.

Harvey tended to settle - that was who he was at heart and out of pure necessity: the great compromiser - but there were some deals he couldn’t stomach. Those included the cards he was dealt.

He remained victim to speculation, since Jessica never let anything through her disciplined demeanor that she didn’t already plan to divulge. Sometimes, he’d notice her giving him a look; always fleeting, yet contained. He couldn’t place its intent - somewhere between pity and concern. Whatever it was, he despised it. He loathed standing out for reasons beyond his control. Afterall, the traits you cannot curate are the traits the world will weaponize against you. What if he wasn’t standing out, though? What if the looks concealed comments about his work ethic or late nights instead?

By the third month, he couldn’t tolerate it any longer. Around 8:30 P.M on a random Tuesday, several hours after Hardman had vacated the premises and at least half an hour since anybody who mattered to him had been within fifty feet of the elevator doors, he sauntered into Jessica’s office. She barely looked up from her document-plastered screen, leaving the squeak of her chair’s wheels and the reflection of her slightly perturbed expression against a gritty New York skyline as the only acknowledgement of his presence. Harvey stood for a moment, stoic yet inwardly anxious and wondering if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his career. Within a few clock ticks, Jessica glanced at him and the bulky metallic-black laptop closed with a thud.

“Harvey,” she began, an undertone of hesitation as if she could sense that something was simmering beneath the surface. “If you’re here to demand I take you off the Burbank case, let me remind you that you’re virtually a first year, no matter what performative title you hold, and Pro Bonos are necessary for the health and reputation of a firm.”

“No,” Harvey replied slowly, wondering if he should crack a joke, come up with a fake problem, and saunter away. “The case is fine, even if I’d rather be doing anything else.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, annoyance creeping in.

“Jessica, do you know?” Harvey blurted out, more hesitation creeping into his voice as each word came out.

Jessica was taken aback. “Know what?”

Harvey stopped dead in his tracks. Was he expecting that Jessica would start divulging everything she knew about him the moment he asked a vague question? In a rare occurrence, Harvey Specter didn’t know what his endgame was. What kind of lawyer doesn’t have a gameplan? “Only ask questions you already know the answer to.” What bullshit whimsical game was Harvey letting himself play?

There was a gun pointed to his head - one that Harvey himself had loaded, handed to Jessica, and ordered that she fire. Damn, where are those 146 options when you need them? He could brush it off, leave and hope that Jessica never mentions it again…Of course she would mention it again. Such an unusual situation doesn’t simply disappear from one’s memory.

There was only one option here - Harvey was in too deep - so he took a breath, and with shaking fists and an unsteady stance, almost whispered the words: “How I was born.”

Harvey watched as Jessica’s expression oscillated between humor, intrigue, concern, and the gray area in-between.

At one point, she looked as if she was ready to tell a joke, but then stopped herself. Finally, she steadied herself, turned her chair towards Harvey, and stated, “Look, Harvey. It’s my job to know, but it isn’t my job to care. As long as you’re content and the clients can’t guess, you’re as much a man as any other lawyer here. Maybe even more of one than Daniel Hardman.”

“What if they could?” Harvey questioned, unease filling his stomach. Was she telling him that his job was only safe as long as he passed unequivocally?

“Then I’d tell you to buy some better suits and find a better barber,” Jessica replied in a matter of fact tone. Sensing a hint of anxiety buried under Harvey’s stoic expression, she joked, “Because I’m willing to wager you look awful in a dress and can’t walk in heels to save your life.”

Before he could stop himself, Harvey let out a snort. Jessica gave him an amused look and slowly smiled. Harvey could have just left it there, but he was in so deep that he was scraping the seabed, and he saw no reason to resurface before all his questions were answered. May as well isolate all of these dangerous questions into a single conversation.

“Look, I have to ask: how did you find out?” Harvey asked as his chuckles died down.

Jessica thought for a moment, a solemn expression entering her face. “If you want the truth, I never suspected anything. I even refused to believe it when I heard it.” She paused for a moment to look him up and down, as if she still found it hard to believe. “Hardman told me. You did a good job obfuscating the evidence. Apparently he couldn’t find any record of your birth and your father wouldn’t budge when Hardman questioned him about the little girl in the framed picture on his cupboard.”

The mention of his birth certificate left Harvey temporarily confused. He’d never contacted the hospital or asked any friends of friends to do him a favor in that regard. Then, it hit him: Scottie must have pulled some strings.

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He remembered a night - maybe somewhere between the middle of finals and Pomp and Circumstance - when Scottie had led him into her pristine bedroom. He laid there against her designer bed frame - his hands tucked behind his head and her hands resting inside of his boxers. Between strokes, she’d marveled at his body, telling Harvey that he was a “beautiful male specimen” and the like. Her sweet nothings were statements that concealed hidden promises, most of which Harvey assumed would never be fulfilled. “Oh Harvey. Sweet, innocent Harvey. Such a man that nobody could ever suspect what you’re hiding from them.” Harvey never responded just to her words, but instead, to the friction that came with them. “If something were to happen to your birth certificate, then all of this…” Harvey let out a moan. “Would be mine to savor.”

Maybe obfuscation of information wasn’t normally sexual in nature, but that’s just how they rolled. Maybe what Scottie did was kinky and possessive, rather than utilitarian. Still, it got the job done.

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Harvey’s reverie was interrupted by a tapping foot and the stern, yet empathetic countenance that Jessica had taken on.

She glanced at Harvey, and continued didactically. “Here’s the issue with coverups, Harvey: it’s usually very clear when information has been redacted. Put simply, it’s easier to tell which information has been deliberately left out than it is which information should be investigated further. The missing record of birth was a smoking gun. If you’d edited those birth records, however, Hardman would have stopped there.

Harvey gave a defeated look to the floor. For a moment, he was tempted to blame Scottie, to call her up and tell her she hadn’t finished the job. Yet, there was no job to finish. Scottie’s motivations were completely foreign to a complete coverup of his past. She’d removed and copied over the records as a token, not for protection, and probably saw no reason to waste time forging information that she assumed nobody would ever look for.

Looking for an escape from Jessica’s chastisement, Harvey quickly asked, “What tipped Hardman off in the first place?”

Jessica sighed, staring whimsically into the distance. “He went digging to prevent you from being hired. Hoped that he’d find some dirt that would prove you weren’t corporate law material. Imagine what a field day he had when he found what he did. Thought he’d struck gold and proved you were a mentally ill, delusional perjurer.”

“I’d buy it. Why didn’t you?” Harvey responded honestly, looking at Jessica curiously.

Jessica breathed and gathered herself. “I told him that nobody wants a transphobic lawyer,” Jessica continued, matter-of-factly, “ and I couldn’t care less what was in your pants. “Frankly,” she added, giving Harvey a smirk, “I’d rather not know. “

Harvey replied with a Cheshire-cat grin. There was something in him that genuinely cared about what Jessica felt about every part of him, not simply his work. To have her as an ally alleviated his stress significantly. Sure, she didn’t say she supported him, but a neutral party in the know was good enough for him.

“Transphobic? That’s some in the know language.” He told her, raising an eyebrow.

“Read it in Next Magazine.” Jessica replied, glancing at her closed laptop as if she was waiting for him to leave so she could get back to work. Instead, Harvey continued questioning.

“Next magazine?” he asked, half mocking, half intrigued. “ Curious about how the other half lives?”

Jessica let out an irritated sigh and muttered,”I didn’t know we were playing twenty questions.”

“I didn’t know you were into gay culture,” Harvey quickly retorted.

“For the record, Harvey, it wasn’t my magazine” Jessica answered, aggravation sinking its way into her brow.

“Then whose was it? Somebody try to frame you as a raging lesbian?”

“If you don’t stop questioning me, Harvey, you’ll have a raging name partner to deal with.”

Taking the hint, he shifted his weight and began to slowly slide out of the room. “Thank you for your time, Jessica” he ended meekly, trying to leave as stealthily as possible.

As he turned his back, Jessica spoke, “The magazine belonged to an old girlfriend. We shared an apartment in Queens for a few years.”

Harvey knew better than to ask any further questions.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harvey called Donna and told her to reschedule his 9 A.M meeting with McKernon Motors. Donna had agreed and moved the meeting promptly, but before that, she’d questioned him. “Just need to stop by the office of an old friend,” he informed her, and before she could dispute the necessity of a friendly visit, Harvey had hung up the phone.

Striding confidently into a lavish office space marked “Darby International: American Offices,” Harvey studied the employee directory. Seeing nothing of use plastered on it, he then turned to address the middle-aged, graying receptionist, who had been eying him wearily.

“Do you know if Ms. Dana Scott is in today?” Harvey asked smoothly, hoping that his confidence would ward off any apprehension on the part of the receptionist.

“I believe she is, sir,” the receptionist replied, still just as weary as she’d been previously. “If you tell me your name, I can page her and tell her you’re here.”

“No need,” Harvey answered swiftly, already strolling into the hallway as if it would prevent the receptionist from putting up a fight. “I’m an old friend.” He’d figure out where Scottie’s office was as soon as the receptionist was out of view.

Nevertheless, the receptionist began to mutter indignantly. She would have continued, if not for the fact that she was silenced by the appearance of a meticulously tailored Scottie. Sure, her curled, deep brunette hair was slightly shorter than it had been the last time they’d met, barely grazing her shoulders. Sure, her nails were marginally longer, albeit still manicured. Harvey forced away a satisfied grin, knowing full well that he was the reason why she used to keep her nails so short. Yet, it was still Scottie.

“Harvey,” Scottie acknowledged, commanding the room with her poise. Her nature evoked something Pavlovian within him, and before he could reply, he was forced to take a breath to regain his composure. Harvey wished he was smooth, but knew that Scottie could see the cracks in his facade forming already.

“Dana,” Harvey replied, hoping that the lack of a nickname would make the secretary assume he was there for business purposes. Instead, the secretary continued to give him a look until Scottie artfully gestured towards her office. He followed assuredly like he was trying to regain control from Scottie.

Despite his best efforts, Scottie beat him to the door, holding it open for him and allowing him his first glimpse of her pristine office - double the size of his with a view that Patrick Batman would kill for. Inwardly, he was jealous, although he’d never admit it, not even to Donna. If he’d known this was what being married to the library got you, maybe he’d have spent less time sneaking his hands into his classmate’s pants and more time preparing his wedding vows.

Scottie carefully shut the door behind them, as if she sensed that the coming conversation would be for their ears only. Or, maybe, she assumed there’d be some sucking and fucking before he left. That would explain why she was enabling the darkening tint on the glass walls of her office. The “Smart Glass” was a fairly new invention - the kind that only lawyers with connections could access or afford - which only added to Harvey’s growing envy.

“For the record, Harvey,” she began, relaxing into an office chair that probably cost more than Harvey’s yearly salary plus bonuses and crossing her legs. “It’s better to phone in advance than saunter into my office whenever you pitch a tent thinking about me.”

Both amused and threatened by her wit, Harvey replied,“You see, that’s funny because…”

He was interrupted by Scottie butting in, “Because you’re prone to premature ejaculation and would never last until you made it here?”

There it was. She’d beaten him already and they weren’t even in court. Hell, this wasn’t even a law-related matter. “On the nose, Scottie, ” Harvey replied, conceding without admission.

He leaned back in a faux-leather chair that probably cost slightly less than Scottie’s and took in the room again, noticing for the first time a framed picture of the two of them nestled behind other photos of Scottie - probably her and her family.

He was inclined to ask, to make small talk, but before the words came out, Scottie remarked, “Come on, spit it out. Unlike you, I have clients to deal with.”

“Spit what out?” He asked incredulously, outwardly unfazed but inwardly questioning his choice to come to her regarding this matter.

“Your lies are subpar for a Harvard Man,” she declared, stressing first “a” in “Harvard.” “Even if there was some reason for you to pay me a friendly visit, I can see it in your eyes that you want something from me.” She bit her lip seductively, raising her eyebrows slightly, just because she knew it would drive him crazy, and continued, “If you want me in your pants, just say the word, but I have a feeling that whatever you want is closer to actual business than ‘business.’” Scottie uncrossed her legs and positioned herself professionally. “So let’s get this favor over with.” As a finale, she added sardonically, “What crimes would you like me to commit?”

“Fine, fine,” Harvey conceded, “I see you’re allergic to smalltalk.” He took a breath and continued, “Remember that birth certificate of mine that you used to mention?”

“What birth certificate?” Scottie asked in the same tone that Harvey had employed prior, albeit with a greater quantity of feigned and mocking confusion.

“The one you said you’d erase from the records,” he muttered, adding quickly, “I guess you thought mentioning it made up for your inability to make me cum.”

“Harvey, if those moans were fake, then you should have been in the drama department instead of law school,” Scottie mused. “Still, even if they were, I doubt you could have ranked any higher there.”

Ignoring her comments, Harvey asked, “Do you still have a copy and know somebody who can replace the certificate with edited information?”

Scottie was silent for a moment, as if she was thinking up a witty remark. Whatever it was, she rejected it for the reply, “Oh Harvey, your naivete. Of course I have a copy and of course I know people.”

“Why keep it for this long?” Harvey asked mockingly, unwilling to abandon their usual ambivalent, yet ultimately witty rapport for any hint of empathetic comprehension. “Do you masturbate to it or something?” he spat almost cruelly.

Scottie replied quickly and fluidly, completely unfazed, “If I did so, it would only remind me that I can pleasure myself better than you can pleasure me, despite your innate advantage.”

“Is that a challenge?” Harvey responded quickly, as if he was already raring to go.

Scottie signed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ”I recall that you came here for a reason that wasn’t sex-related.” Before Harvey could reply, she muttered amusedly, “At least, not sex-related as we’d usually define it.”

Harvey sprung up and opened his mouth, eager to make another innuendo. He was interrupted, however, by a stern look from Scottie and an annoyed eyebrow twitch, as if she was subconsciously communicating: “Don’t you dare.”

So, Harvey sighed, leaned back, and asked seriously, “Can you replace my birth certificate with substitutions in the birth marker and legal name, leaving none the wiser?”

Although Scottie must have known this request was coming, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “How incredibly illegal of you, Harvey. Firstly, there are electronic records nowadays, and I had enough sense to both snatch the original and erase you from the database. For the record, I’m not giving up my copy. So, you’re asking me to have a forgery made, replace it in the hospital files, and update the system without anyone suspecting anything?”

Harvey nodded, as if this was no different from the type of conversation he’d have with his clients. “Sounds about right.”

Scottie scoffed, half mockingly, half seriously. “And why should I do this for you?”

Harvey replied confidently, as though he had a smoking gun, “In return, I won’t tell the police that you stole my original birth certificate from the hospital and erased all records of my existence before 1989 from the database.”

“Oh, you’re funny, Harvey,” Scottie said cutely, giving him the kind of smile you give to a child who has just told you a knock knock joke. She seemed seconds away from walking over to Harvey and getting down to his level as if he was four-feet tall. Of course, Harvey would never admit it to anybody, but whatever this was, Scottie was winning. Even if he got out of here with everything he wanted, maybe even a little more, she’d still probably have won. She had the winning hand, and if he didn’t take option 147, he’d end up caught with his pants down. He preferred not to think about last night. He’d been more vulnerable and less Harvey-Specter than he’d ever been in years, especially around Jessica. If he kept this up, he’d be in this position more often than he’d ever be comfortable with.

Before Harvey could continue his self-critical reverie, Scottie continued. “I thought we already had an unspoken quid pro quo agreement regarding that. You don’t report me to the police, and in exchange, I don’t tell anybody about the birth certificate.”

Harvey was out of chips. So, he kept listening. Scottie remained didactic and methodical, speaking as if she was explaining the terms of a deal to a client. “Of course, you could contact the police. I’m sure they’d be interested, in the process, about why ‘Harvey Specter’ from the DA’s office, somebody working in a government office and they assumed was a man, is listed as a ‘female.’ Maybe they’d look into your medical records, since HIPAA wouldn’t apply if there was a search warrant or subpoena, and realize you had prescribed yourself testosterone supplements by means of a fake doctor in 1993 and continued that prescription for 10 years. Then, they’d realize that your government name was mysteriously changed in 1989, suspiciously close to when you received your driver’s license and right before you turned eighteen. Then, they’d notice that, in the process, you’d altered your gender marker without going through any legal channels.”

Harvey had zoned out sentences ago, completely bored, albeit slightly impressed that Scottie had recalled exact dates and exactly which crimes he’d committed. Scottie finally finished, saying assertively, “I’d call it mutually assured destruction, but you’d come out of it with a much worse deal than I would. I’d get a slap on the wrist and you’d get repeated slaps on the ass in some women’s prison.”

Harvey sighed, breathing out a combination of boredom, humiliation, and self-generated remorse. He should have realized that Scottie had the upper hand from the beginning, and led as a supplicant, not a negotiator, although he also realized, truthfully, that he’d never stoop to such an approach. “What do you want, Scottie?” he asked slowly and irritably.

Scottie paused momentarily, as if she herself wasn’t exactly sure how she planned to benefit from this. Ultimately, she replied systematically, “I want you to set-up a private burner phone with only my personal number inputted and keep it with you at all times. And, although this part is more of a favor to you than to me, lunch today. Cancel the rest of your day and we’ll spend the afternoon in my apartment. You need it.”

Harvey chuckled, surprised yet grateful for the simplicity of the request and the addendum. “As far as you’re concerned, a private phone sounds more like a favor to me than it is to you.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Scottie countered, warming slightly, “The phone is for the three favors you now owe me. That’s right - three. Take it or leave it. I think you’ll take it.”

There’s the rub. Harvey had been expecting it, however, and knew that he wasn’t in the position to negotiate Scottie down. He supposed lessening the chance he’d ever be outed was worth being unknowably indebted to Scottie. “Sounds like we’ve got a deal,” he conceded agreeably. “Want it in writing?”

“I have a feeling you want there to be no record of this interaction ever occurring,” Scottie replied knowingly. Damn, Scottie was perceptive. She was as Scottie as Donna was Donna.

“So,” Harvey responded, biting his lip and locking eyes with Scottie. “Where will we be dining this afternoon?”

Scottie thought for a moment, before saying seductively, “My kitchen.”

“Can’t wait?” Harvey rejoined, edging out of his seat. “I thought what came after lunch was a favor to me?”

“Maybe it’s also quid pro quo.” Scottie admitted, glancing at the glass walls that separated her office from the hallway. They were mostly tinted, although dim light still shone through. Walking over to the control panel that was installed parallel to the light switch, she continued, softly, “I’ll be honest with you, Harvey. You’re the only real man I’ve ever brought home. All those pussies don’t deserve the shit they’ve got between their legs.”

Harvey watched as the mostly-tinted walls turned to a solid, full gray. Candidly, he responded, “I’ll be honest with you, Scottie. It’s not all that bad.”

Scottie exhaled deeply, before smirking and making eye contact with Harvey. “Oh, I’ll show you why it’s not all that bad.”

With that, Scottie discretely locked the door and seized Harvey, pushing him against a tinted wall. It looked like both lunch and McKernon Motors would have to wait after all.