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Harvey had seen Mike in a lot of states—stressed, cocky, pissed off, annoyingly smug—but never like this. Curled beneath a thin hospital blanket, hair a mess, mouth parted slightly as he slept off the morphine. Peaceful. Vulnerable in a way Mike rarely let himself be.
A few hours ago, post-anesthesia, Mike had confessed his apparent love for Harvey’s eyes, mouth, and everything in between... It had been ridiculous.
And yet, Harvey hadn’t laughed. Not really.
He knew it wasn’t real—just drugged-up nonsense—but still, it had lingered. Not because it mattered. Just… because it came from him.
Harvey leaned back in the chair, eyes still on Mike. “You’re gonna forget all of that,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Lucky you.”
Mike stirred then, lashes twitching as his face scrunched faintly, and Harvey felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
Right on cue.
Mike blinked slowly, Harvey waited to see what new nonsense he's gonna spew now.
“Dude, whatever stuff I took— is good,” he murmured, slurring slightly, eyes barely cracked open as he grinned up at the ceiling.
“Don’t call me dude,” Harvey replied automatically, but the corners of his mouth tugged up despite himself. He sounded more amused than stern, the fondness bleeding through his voice.
Mike scoffed. “Okay, old man.” He shifted a little on the bed, blanket rustling. “Don’t tell my boss though, he’d fire me or kill me or fire me and then kill me,” he added in a loud whisper.
Harvey raised a brow, biting back a laugh. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, man, he’s an absolute pain in the ass,” Mike muttered, frowning now, looking genuinely concerned for a split second. “Don’t tell—”
“—him you said that, got it,” Harvey finished smoothly.
“Yeah,” Mike sighed in relief, nodding sagely before his head flopped back on the pillow. “Good. You’re cool.”
Harvey leaned closer, elbow on the armrest, amused and curious. “By the way, what are you doing here?”
Mike blinked again, stared blearily around the hospital room like he’d never seen it before. “I don’t know where here is,” he admitted, then grinned again, head lolling sideways toward Harvey. “But I don’t care, ‘cause I am feeling soooo goood.”
He made a sound of pure contentment, something between a sigh and a hum, and then spread his arms slightly like he was about to hug the entire room.
Harvey snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“You wanna try some?” Mike offered, too earnest to be joking.
“Pass,” Harvey said, smirking. “One of us needs to be sober.”
Mike’s face scrunched up in exaggerated sympathy. “Poor guy.”
Harvey chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, poor me.”
Mike’s head rolled lazily to the side again, gaze glassy but suddenly intent. “Hey… hey, Harvey?”
“Yeah?”
“I used to smoke weed, you know. Like, a lot.” He nodded solemnly, like he was revealing a deeply classified secret. “I was so good at it too.”
Harvey raised an eyebrow. “You were good at smoking weed?”
“Yup,” Mike said proudly. “Like, Olympic level. Gold medalist. If it was a sport, man…”
“Don’t tempt me to make that your official title at the firm.”
Mike let out a breathy laugh. “Oh man, that’d be awesome. Mike Ross, Esquire, Olympic Pothead.”
Great, it seemed like he was in for a lot of random confessions now.
Mike blinked slowly, like it took real effort. “You know…” he started, like he was about to deliver world-altering wisdom. “Sometimes I think I’m in love with Donna.”
Harvey quirked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Is that so?”
Mike nodded gravely. “She’s too pretty. Makes my brain do somersaults. But then she talks and I remember I’m scared of her.”
“That’s a healthy reaction.” Harvey laughed.
“But not in a bad way. Like… sexy fear. Fear that makes you wanna be a better man.”
Mike paused, thoughtful. “Do you think I’m a good man, Harvey?”
Harvey was caught off guard. “Yeah. I do.” He replied sincerely.
Mike smiled, eyes fluttering shut, voice soft. “Thanks. That’s nice. Even if it’s a lie.”
Harvey looked at him, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “It’s not a lie, Mike.”
He hummed contentedly, clearly pleased with himself. Then, after a long pause where his eyes fluttered shut, he said, almost dreamily, “Did I tell you how good I’m feeling?”
Harvey laughed under his breath. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”
Mike beamed, eyes still closed. “It’s like… being wrapped in a warm burrito of light.”
“A burrito of light,” Harvey echoed dryly.
“Yeah,” Mike whispered. “You’re a good burrito, Harvey.”
Harvey shook his head with a laugh. “Okay, you’ve had enough morphine for one night.”
“I helped my whole class cheat on the algebra final in high school. But only because my teacher was an ass and she wanted everyone to fail.”
Harvey chuckled. “Good to know your moral compass depends entirely on how likable someone is.”
Mike nodded again, serious. “It does. Why do you think I do everything my boss tells me.”
Harvey looked genuinely surprised. “I thought he was– and I quote –an absolute pain in the ass.”
He sighed like he didn’t know where to begin. “It’s not that simple.”
Harvey leaned back in the chair, arms folded, watching Mike with an amused smile. “So… Tell me more.”
Mike huffed. “Ugh. My boss. That guy.”
“That bad, huh?”
Mike waved his hand like he was swatting a fly. “He’s a total hardass. Super intense. Always in a suit. You think anyone sleeps in a suit? I bet he does. Probably showers in one too. Freakin’ perfectionist. Never smiles unless he’s kicking someone’s ass in court.”
Harvey raised a brow. “Sounds terrifying.”
“He is,” Mike said with wide, exaggerated eyes. “But also? Kinda… awesome. Like, annoyingly cool. You know?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Harvey said, fighting a grin. “Go on.”
Mike sighed dramatically. “He’s got this voice. Like—you know the voice—like whiskey and confidence had a baby and taught it how to win arguments.”
Harvey snorted. “That’s oddly specific.”
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Mike nodded solemnly. “I want to be like him. He’s super cool. But he’s really intense too, sometimes he stands really close when he’s looking at my computer screen with me and I forget how to read. And my breathing shifts to manual mode.”
Harvey knew not to take this seriously, but he was getting a bad case of butterflies in his stomach.
“Sounds like someone has a little crush.”
Mike blinked slowly, then nodded. “Maybe. But don’t tell him. He’d be all smug and unbearable. Like, ‘Oh Mike, I know you like me. Everyone does.’” He imitated a suave voice terribly. “I don’t need that. I have enough problems.”
“Like being high on morphine and confessing to your boss?” Harvey bit the inside of his cheek to stop laughing.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Harvey shook his head. “Do you remember who I am?”
Mike blinked up at him, eyes barely open, like the question personally offended him. “Of course. You’re Harvey. Harvey.”
Harvey raised an eyebrow. “And who am I to you?”
“You’re my friend,” Mike said firmly, then scoffed. “I’m high, man, not brain-dead.”
Harvey tried not to smile. “And what do I do?”
Mike squinted like Harvey had just asked him to solve quantum physics. He pointed a wobbly finger at Harvey’s face. “You do something really important... Are you– Batman?”
Harvey laughed. “No.”
Mike frowned. “Am I Batman?”
“No.”
“Damn.” Mike flopped back dramatically against the pillow. “That would’ve been so cool.”
“I don’t remember, what do you do?”
“I am a lawyer.”
“Oh right! I am lawyer too. Of course we’d be friends. You know what they say, birds of a feather stick together." He paused for a moment, Harvey could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Hey, Harvey, if we were birds, what birds would we be?”
“I don’t know, Mike, which ones?” Harvey pretended to think.
“Penguins! They are so dope! They are like little birds wearing suits! We’d definitely be Penguins, man.”
“Huh. That actually does make sense.”
“I know! I am a genius.”
“Mm hmm. And who’s your boss, genius?”
“Harvey Specter. What’s with all the que—“ Mike realized mid-sentence, “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Harvey smirked. This was surprisingly fun, even for the second time.
“I’m so sorry, Harvey,” he said softly.
“For what?”
Mike hesitated, voice low. “For doing drugs. I didn’t mean to. But I did.”
His expression softened. “When did you do drugs?”
Mike stared up at the ceiling like it might have the answer. “I don’t remember,” he admitted, a crease forming between his brows. “Did I ask for it? Did someone sneak it into my juice?”
His eyes widened. “Do I drink juice?”
He closed his eyes, whispering, “Please don’t be mad, I didn’t do it, I think someone else drugged me.”
“I’m not mad.”
Mike peeked one eye open. “You’re not?”
Harvey shook his head. “You’re high on medically administered morphine after surgery. That’s not the same thing.”
Mike’s mouth dropped open. “Surgery?! Oh my god. What did they take? Was it important? Was it my brain? Because honestly, I feel like I don’t have one right now.”
Harvey shook his head, smiling despite himself. “They removed your appendix, dumbass. They gave you morphine for the pain. You’ve been in and out since then.”
“Oh.” Mike considered that. “Okay. That’s not as bad as brain theft.”
“Yep. They fixed you up.”
Mike sighed in relief, then looked up at Harvey. “Thanks for telling me the truth. You’re nice for a hardass.”
Harvey snorted. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t want to mess this up, you know. My job. You. All of it.” Mike said, voice small and timid.
“You won’t.” Harvey said it with quiet certainty. “You’re not alone in this.”
Mike smiled faintly, eyes fluttering shut again. “Okay… But still… I’m so sorry.”
Harvey squeezed his arm. “It’s okay, rookie. Just focus on feeling better.”
Harvey watched as Mike drifted off, murmuring something about penguins and Batman under his breath.
Mike’s lip trembled slightly, but he recovered fast, letting out a giddy laugh. “Man, morphine is awesome. Did I tell you that? I feel so good. Like… like if feelings were jelly, I’d be the whole damn jar.”
Harvey huffed a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re a burrito,” Mike murmured again, almost like he forgot he already said it.
“You already called me that.”
“I know. I meant it.” He opened his eyes just enough to look in Harvey’s general direction. “You’re like… this really warm, soft, safe burrito. With pinstripes.”
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re cutting you off before you start trying to cuddle my suit jacket.”
Mike’s eyes closed again. “Don’t worry. I respect the suit. The suit’s part of the burrito.”
Harvey groaned, but he couldn't stop laughing.
Mike stirred with a quiet little hum, eyes fluttering open like it took real effort. Harvey, still in his chair, glanced over, expecting more nonsense. What he got was... somehow better.
“Harvey.”
“Yeah?”
“You ever think about penguins?”
Harvey blinked. “…Can’t say I do.”
“Did you know there are gay penguins?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Mike nodded, wide-eyed. “Actual gay penguins, in Antarctica.”
“Really?”
“Yes! And the gay Penguin couples raise chicks together. They are like a little tuxedo-ed family.”
“So…” Harvey said slowly, smirking just a little, “How exactly do they make babies?”
Mike gave the most offended little gasp. “Harvey,” he whispered like Harvey had just asked where babies come from in front of a kindergarten class. “They don’t make them. Other straight penguins mess up. Drop eggs. Abandon them. And those gay penguins? They step up, taking eggs no one else wants..” He pointed vaguely in Harvey’s direction. “They look at that egg and go, ‘This is ours now. We’re gonna love the hell outta this egg.’”
Harvey blinked, eyebrows lifting. “Seriously? That sounds like kidnapping."
"Hey, that's adopting, with a little flair. And they do adopt them. They take turns keeping it warm. They feed the chick. They parent, often in harsh, freezing conditions. Like, ‘You, me, this endless winter—let’s raise a chick and be adorable together.’ ” He said with reverence. “Like, better than some straight penguins who just… waddle off to do whatever.”
Harvey sat back in his chair, half-impressed, half-amused. “So you’re telling me gay penguins are basically the responsible gay uncles of the Antarctic?”
“No,” Mike said, frowning. “They’re dads, Harvey. Real ones. Chosen-family dads. And the chick grows up and doesn’t even know it wasn’t from them. Just knows it’s loved.”
Harvey was quiet for a moment.
Then he muttered, “That’s actually… kind of great. Sounds intense.”
“It is intense. It’s soulmate stuff, man.” Mike sighed, triumphant. “I didn’t make it up. Nature did. Nature ships it.”
He flopped dramatically back into his pillow, whispering, “Gay penguin dads. In Antarctica. That’s peak romance.”
Harvey looked at him, completely out of it and yet somehow still making more emotional sense than most people ever did.
“You know some Penguins mate for life.” His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “Once they choose each other, out of all the penguins. And then they just… stay. Like, forever. After returning from sea, months of seperation, they find their way back to their soulmate, out of the millions of others. That’s loyalty.”
Harvey smiled. “You’re really out here giving me life lessons from penguins?”
“We all should learn from penguins.”
“If I were a penguin in Antarctica… I think I’d find you.”
Harvey tried very hard not to react, but failed spectacularly. “Oh, would you.”
“Yeah,” Mike murmured, already fading again. “You’d be the one with the perfect feathers. And good instincts. You’d keep me warm. You’re kind of mean, but you’d keep our rock nest organized. And you’d make sure no seagulls stole our egg. You’d be the best egg dad.”
Harvey stared at him, mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or say something else.
“You’ve a lot of faith in me,” he said instead.
“I do,” Mike agreed proudly.
A pause.
“You’d even yell at seagulls for looking at our baby.”
Harvey snorted. “You’re lucky you’re drugged.”
“You’re lucky I’m being this honest.”
“Hey,” he said, like it was the most surprising discovery of his life. “You’re still here. Again. Or… still.”
Harvey leaned forward, eyebrow raised. “Where else would I be, you're my favorite fake lawyer of all time.”
Mike squinted suspiciously. “Wait. Did you just say I’m your favorite?”
Harvey smirked. “I said ‘my favorite fake lawyer of all time.’ Don’t push it.”
Mike gave a slow, satisfied nod. “I’ll take it.”
Then, he reached out clumsily, missing Harvey’s arm by a few inches and patting the air. “You’re a good burrito, Harvey.”
“We’re back to that again?”
“I just don’t want you to forget,” Mike mumbled, eyes fluttering. “Warm. Reliable. Gooey in the middle.”
“Gooey?” He snorted.
“Emotionally,” Mike said seriously.“Like… a Burrito with a heart.”
Harvey chuckled, shaking his head. “You are so high.”
Mike tried to frown but ended up looking confused. “Do penguins eat Burrito?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. More for us.”
Harvey scoffed, watching Mike as he drifted again.
Mike turned his head toward Harvey, like he’d just had a brilliant idea and needed to share it immediately.
“Hey… hey, Harvey!”
Harvey glanced up from his phone. “Yeah?”
Mike squinted at him. “You ever think… maybe we should just skip the hard stuff.”
Harvey raised an eyebrow. “What hard stuff?”
Mike waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Feelings. Work. Dating apps. Pretending we don’t like each other even though you clearly do- because look at me.”
Harvey tried not to laugh. “And what’s your proposed solution to all that?”
Mike leaned in a little, whispering conspiratorially, “We just go full penguin.”
Harvey blinked. “Come again?”
“Penguin, man. Like the Antarctica guys.” Mike nodded seriously. “You and me. We pick out a pebble. The perfect pebble. We give it to each other. Bam. Life partners. That’s how the Adelie Penguins do it.”
Harvey stared. “You want to give me a rock.”
“It’s symbolic,” Mike explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Penguins don’t need apps or dinner dates. They’re like, ‘Hey, I brought you this shiny pebble, let’s raise a kid and survive winter together.’ That’s romance.”
Harvey let out a slow breath, trying not to laugh. “And you think we should do that.”
“I know we should do that.”
Harvey shook his head, grinning despite himself. “Okay. And where exactly am I supposed to find this rock?”
Mike smiled dreamily. “I don’t know… but I believe in you. You’re good under pressure. And you have great taste.”
Then, after a pause, “Just don’t bring me a boring rock. I deserve, like… a really good rock.”
Harvey laughed out loud, covering his face with one hand. “Sure, Mike.”
“And then we’ll get an egg, and raise it together, we’d be great at it. You’re already grumpy, like a protective dad, and I’ve got soft feathers—metaphorically.” Mike said dreamily.
“Penguin egg?” Harvey’s eyebrows shot in surprise.
Mike nodded in excitement.“Two dudes. One egg. Boom. Family.”
“We’d have to move to Antarctica for that.”
“I didn’t think about that.” Mike contemplated it for a whole minute. “We have to put a pin on that for now, I guess.”
“Okay, how about a puppy or a kitten?” Harvey couldn’t bear the sad look on his face.
“Ooh yes!” His face lit up in an instance, almost pulling the IV out of his hand trying to clap. “How about both?! But they need someone to play with, of their own size. Let’s get two puppies and two kittens.”
“And who’s gonna take care of four pets while we go to work all day?”
“You know how some offices have daycare center for the employees’ kids, let’s talk Jessica into getting pet daycare for our firm.” Mike’s eyes were closed again, looking like he was in a loosing battle against sleep.
“You’re pretty set on this whole idea huh?”
“Of course. I am just waiting for you to present that rock.” He yawned.
“Sure. But first get some rest, penguin man.”
“G’night Harvey.” He mumbled.
Harvey looked over at him—peaceful, dopey, and oddly sincere—and couldn’t help the warmth that rose in his chest.
“...You’re are something else, Mike Ross.” He whispered, shaking his head in amusement.