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This Monday officially marks the start of Christmas week, making Wednesday, the day of Christmas, their first holiday since Harvey and Mike slept together. It's been a little more than a month after that fateful day.
Mike is still in bed when Harvey leaves for the office in the morning. He's been called in for a short meeting and since it's a Sunday, he doesn't wake Mike up and crosses his fingers to be back in time for breakfast. (He considered leaving a note, but that'd probably be going overboard. It's not like they had any plans for the day…)
Harvey's not sure what to call this thing between him and Mike; the hanging out in his condo late at night, the secretive flirting in the office, the looks and the teasing, too-deliberate-to-be-accidental touches they share every chance they get. They don’t always leave the building together in the evenings, and the nights they spend together don’t necessarily end up in the bedroom every time, so Harvey knows it's more than casual fucking and is a little puzzled about how to proceed regarding the holiday season.
(They've had slept together four times thus far, if you count the time when after having had consecutive all-nighters all week, the younger man was too tired to have victory sex so he'd just laid in bed on his back as Harvey caged his wrists above his head against the pillows with one hand, and fingered him open with the other, pressing against his sweet spot over and over, whispering gentle commands and praises into his ear until Mike came untouched with a shout of Harvey's name on his lips and promptly passed out. It also happened to be the first time Mike stayed the night.)
Harvey doesn’t want to be presumptuous and assume that Mike will want to spend his next day off with him. It's already a miracle Mike as an associate isn't called into work even if it's a national holiday, and he'll probably want to visit his grandmother. And meeting the (grand)parent isn’t exactly Harvey’s style. He suspects he’d only be intruding in a private moment even if he were to come along, so he won’t ask Mike unless he asks first. That sounds like what a person with a good grasp of their feelings and personal relationships would do. Good plan.
It's not like they're lacking in the spending time together department anyway. They work all day side by side, and half the time carry the files back to Harvey's and continue from where they left it off by cozying up on the sofa. Maybe Harvey's been hoping for a more deliberate arrangement for some time, like taking the younger man out to a fancy restaurant for a real date night complete with a movie afterward and a nightcap at his place, giving him the full Harvey Specter treatment and showing him what a good partner he can be instead of eating greasy pizza at home at hours too late for fast food, but his associate is the relationship guy out of the two of them and Harvey'll be damned if he's the one to get accused of moving too fast and making this relationship into something it's not.
He's not going to rush it, no matter how restless he gets by the uncertainty. He tells himself repeatedly that he's content with the way things are.
So maybe he's more than just a little surprised when he’s welcome back home with the sight of Mike in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a Kiss The Chef apron that somehow found its way into his apartment, seemingly cooking something and disastrously failing at it judging by the way he curses and bats repeatedly at the tray he put on the kitchen island with a plastic spatula on one hand and a wet kitchen rag on the other.
When Harvey gets close enough to have a good look, he realizes Mike's victims look like suspiciously ashen-colored and severely dismembered gingerbread cookies. The ones on the side of his right hand, the one holding the rag, are more than a bit soaking wet.
Baking it is, then.
“And what disaster has befallen you this fine morning?” Harvey asks as he tries to mask an amused smile. He thinks he must've not been very successful as Mike drops everything in his hands and scratches his neck in a bashful manner, offering a small smile of his own.
“Kicking me while down? That's low, Harvey.” He shakes his head. “Go ahead, get it all out, masterchef. I know they're beyond salvation at this point.”
Harvey crosses his arms, smiling openly now. “What were those supposed to be?”
“That bad, huh?” Mike wipes his hands on the apron, completely abandoning the lost cause which is the burnt cookies. “I thought I'd get a headstart on the festive cooking and baking since we'll both be working on Tuesday, but… Yeah, the results speak for themselves, I think.”
“Must be the lack of practice since you live on greasy takeout and hotdogs from the stand.”
“Pot, kettle,” Mike remarks as Harvey rounds the island and stands behind, putting his arms around him for a makeshift hug.
“So, festive cooking?”
“Yeah, well, I know it's only the two of us,” Mike shrugs and Harvey runs his hands up and down Mike's shoulders and arms. “But Grammy and I used to cook enough for several courses on the occasion anyway, so I thought, why not keep the tradition going by myself this year.”
Harvey's arms get tighter around Mike, plastering his chest on the younger man's bare back, slotting their bodies together snuggly. Mike doesn't seem to have any complaints about the position as he goes on.
“We could have the leftovers for lunch at work, so nothing would go to waste. Solid plan in my opinion.”
Harvey nuzzles his nose into Mike's neck and feels the way he shivers. He must be cold, wearing practically nothing in the middle of winter. Harvey's condo has phenomenal heating, but it's still on the top floor, so he makes sure to share body heat by standing as close to him as he can get.
“... Harvey?” Mike asks eventually, realizing Harvey hasn't said a word since he began explaining his kitchen misadventure.
“Is there a problem?”
Before Harvey can say anything, Mike is already turning around in his arms, back against the kitchen island, and wide eyes facing Harvey.
“Oh my god, there is, isn't it? Did you have other plans? Fuck, of course you do— I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have—”
“Mike,” Harvey says as he tentatively puts both arms on his shoulders. “It's okay. I didn't have any plans. Stop babbling.”
“Oh,” Mike breathes and lets Harvey manhandle him into his previous position for another hug. It isn't that Harvey is a cuddle person, and it would be easier to be facing Mike if he plans to kiss him later (which he does, because he has half a mind to kiss Mike any given time) but what he's about to say makes him feel vulnerable and too out there, so this is the best way to relieve himself of that feeling without having to stop touching Mike.
“I wasn't sure if you'd want to spend the holiday with me.”
Harvey can't see it, but Mike has a frown on his face as he says, “Why wouldn't I?”
He phrases it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, as sure as the oxygen in the air they breathe in and certain as the way the sun rises from the east every day. Harvey feels himself warming up from the inside out, and it has nothing to do with his perfect air conditioning or sharing body heat.
“Harvey?”
Mike cranes his neck to look back, and what he sees on Harvey's face makes his body go all soft and pliant in Harvey's arms and his eyes shine bright with something like a fire from the hearth.
“Oh, Harvey,” Mike whispers before crashing his lips into Harvey's.
Harvey kisses back readily and passionately.
“Idiot,” Mike adds between shared kisses, smiling.
Harvey smiles back despite himself.
“ Your idiot, apparently.” He offers, arms traveling down from Mike's shoulders to wrap around his waist.
“My idiot,” Mike confirms and pecks Harvey's lips one more time like finalizing a deal with his signature. “All mine.”
“What about Grammy?”
“I'll go see her on the Eve after work. It'll be too crowded on Wednesday, we won't get any quiet time otherwise. You could… Come with me, if you'd like.”
Harvey's arms tighten once again and he can feel Mike's lips curl against his at the gesture.
“I'll consider it, but only if you admit to being my idiot in turn.” He frees one hand to gesture at Mike's attempt at baking.
Mike chuckles lightly, putting his hands on Harvey's and giving them a light squeeze.
“Like you even had to ask.”