Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harvey couldn't pinpoint the moment his interest turned into affection and when exactly it turned into this all-encompassing, self-destructive, obsessive love he's been carrying around like a dead albatross around his neck.

Truth be told, it was like falling off a cliff. One minute, he was upright, standing on the edge. He was Harvey Specter, newly minted senior partner at Pearson Hardman, best closer in the city, and the next minute, he was face down in murky waters. Fallen from grace. A criminal. Aiding and abetting a fraud. Falling for said fraud. Everything he knew about himself was being smudged and rewritten right in front of his eyes and at the root of it all, Mike Ross.

With his bright blue eyes, wonky ties, lips stretched into a grin. Brilliant. If a little naive. A lot naive.

At the beginning, Mike was just exciting. A shiny new toy for him to play with. To mold.

It was the glint in his eye as he rapid-fire answered Harvey's questions while playing hearts on his computer. Just something in his eyes. (It was always his eyes.)

It was also his smart mouth. Quick wit. Maybe it was even the suitcase full of weed. He was thrilling. It's always been true, he guesses, Mike was never boring. He was always thrilling. It was high after high with him. (The lows almost killed him.)

It was the kid's heart of gold. His need to do the right thing was compulsive. Crippling. Harvey found it fascinating. (Found him fascinating.)

And slowly or not-so-slowly, Harvey couldn't see the beginning anymore. Nor the ending. He was just falling. Fast. And he had no desire to stop. Because if you close your eyes, for a few seconds falling felt like flying. Unbidden. Boundless. Free.

One minute, Mike was just a footnote; amusing, a speck of paint in a canvas. (It was especially funny because Harvey didn't even paint). Next thing he knew, he had expanded like a balloon being filled with water, too big to fit in his heart. Too all-encompassing. Suddenly, before Harvey could do a double take, the paint covered everything. Everywhere he turned. All of his walls - a gorgeous shade of silver- blue. Sparkling. Like the colour of his protégé's eyes. (The colour of his own longing).

It was sudden, he supposed, or maybe not if you looked closer, but Harvey hadn't. That was the problem. That's why they were there. Because Harvey wasn't looking. He couldn't see. Couldn't stop. Couldn't let go.

A laundry list of things he did wrong and very few, right. This is the time for musing.

So, 'Why Mike?' was never a question. Because of course it was. Of course, Mike. Everyone that met him could understand that.

The real question was 'how far?'

How far would the great and self-assured Harvey Specter fall? And more importantly, how far would he go for Mike Ross?

The answer, it turns out was - all the way.

Chapter Text

Harvey has always prided himself in his ability to read people. Best closer in the city, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the picture. He was nothing if not observant. An entire childhood spent on the sidelines would do that to you. (He could be oblivious when it comes to his own feelings, but he would never have admitted that.)

He noticed Mike's interest in the pretty paralegal (sushi wasn't Mike's idea), the big suitcase full of weed locked in his desk, his ID left in his cubicle.

Realistically, he should have let him walk away. There were several moments in his life where Harvey should have let Mike walk away from him. For Mike's own good. For Harvey's. But he never could. Not completely. (It was only partially about his ego.)

Of course he didn't feel the gut wrenching pain that he felt now, at the thought of Mike walking away. No. He felt anger. Because you don't walk away from Harvey Specter. He wanted to drag Mike by the ear back to the office. Just because he could. Mike probably would have let him too if the way he looked at him when Harvey caught him was any indication.

Pale blue eyes, wide. Crimson creeping up his neck. Voice trembling. He was worked up. Passionate. He wanted it. At that point, Harvey knew, he'd come back. He always would come running when Harvey snapped his fingers. Knowing was a rush. Harvey walked away with a smirk on his face. All he had to do was wait.

****

He was halfway through laying into Louis and for what? Scaring Mike a little? It made no sense.

He meant every word though. The thought of Louis threatening Mike sent him over the edge. Harvey didn't share his toys. All it was was self righteous anger. Easily justifiable.

'One of my guys', 'I will kick your ass.' Please. It wasn't even tasteful. It wasn't Harvey.

The truth is Harvey Specter is not about caring. He didn't care. Not more than winning, that is. Not more than (sometimes) his billables. No emotional attachment though. Not with his clients. Not with an associate he hired a week ago.

(Mike came to work the next morning and Harvey couldn't supress his cat-that-got-the-cream smile.)

****

He liked it all. The banter. The movie quotes. The food cart briefings. Most of all, he liked winning. He liked watching Mike win even more. Knowing that he made it happen. He put the smile on his face. The glint in his eye. The exhilaration. The wonder.

It was Mike's first case after all. And the first case in a while that made Harvey feel something more than a dull sense of accomplishment. Because when you always win, it becomes more of an expectation than an accomplishment. You stop feeling the happiness, the giddiness that's supposed to come with the win.

That day, Harvey felt the giddiness practicing law used to give him.

(There was a moment. A fraction of it, really. They locked eyes. Harvey's gaze flicked away in seconds. Because what he saw in Mike's eyes, it was dangerous.)

'So are we a team now?'

'Don't move into Wayne Manor just yet.'