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"Well, shit," Harvey says under his breath when he opens the door to a Donna dressed to the nines in a swift, knee-length burgundy dress. Her impeccably styled red hair drapes over her shoulders in a way that makes it all look effortless, an intricate illusion even Harvey struggles to unveil at times. Her arms cradles a dark bottle of red wine and an expensive looking leather purse. Harvey's mood alleviates marginally at the promise of alcohol accompanying the troubling conversation he's been preparing for.
"Good evening to you too," Donna responds cheerfully as she hands him the wine and steps into the living room, unbothered. "Though I did expect a warmer welcome to the dinner you've invited me to."
"It's not you," Harvey says, shifting from one foot to the other. "I'd hoped Mike would arrive first, that's all."
"Seems like he did," Donna says, pointing to the leather messenger's bag discarded heedlessly onto the single couch, poorly hidden by the navy blue suit jacket draped on top of it.
"Well, yeah," Harvey concedes as he makes his way to the kitchen counter. He places the wine bottle in a bucket of ice, moving to the cupboards to get the glasses and look reasonably busy as he speaks. "But then he got… Hungry, so…"
"And he couldn't wait for dinner?" Donna asks with a pointedly raised eyebrow. Harvey turns his back on her with the excuse of setting the table and plating their food. Donna can't miss the tension in his shoulders and back from that angle as she settles on a chair facing the kitchen, but refrains from commenting on it.
She already knew something was up when Harvey texted her to come to dinner instead of telling her in person at the office. It also didn't escape her notice that the rest of Harvey's day was filled with one impromptu meeting after another, obviously by design. She couldn't have cornered him in his office and inquire about the sudden invitation without disrupting his work. Not that she needed to do that in the first place, but it's the thought that counts.
Donna doesn't like surprises unless they involve a new designer bag or a bonus out of the holiday season, but then again, she's hardly surprised by Harvey and Mike's antics anymore since they all started working together some months ago. The novelty had worn off quickly within the first few weeks and left a semi-permanent feeling of fond exasperation in its place.
So she allows herself to relax into the soft cushions supporting her back and watches the kitchen out of the corner of her eye. Harvey subtly squirms around the island, trying to come up with something non-incriminating to explain Mike's suspicious absence. Donna resists the grin threatening to conquer her lips with a well-timed cough.
It's always more fun to watch when they don't realize she's probably already several steps ahead of them, whatever the "secret" they've decided to reveal to her this evening might be.
"That… is somewhat related to what we wanted to talk to you about," Harvey finally grinds out, sending a contemplative look her way over his shoulder. He continues to pour a generous serving of salad onto a shiny, large plate without turning his head. "No, it's definitely related to what we're gonna talk about. So let's just wait until Mike— Oh,"
The metallic sound of the lock turning and someone shuffling behind the door interrupts Harvey mid-sentence before the door opens to reveal the usual suspect.
"I swear nobody saw me coming up. I used the private elevator with the code you gave me." Mike claims immediately as he pockets the key he'd used to unlock the door and steps into the foyer. Donna tries and fails not to raise her eyebrows at the fact that Mike seemingly gets free rein in and out of Harvey's condo.
"Mike," Harvey starts, setting the kitchen tools on the counter for a moment to focus on their newest arrival.
"I distracted the doorman with a rat carcass before I walked through the entrance so he didn't see me, I've been good I swear!" Mike says as he lifts his hands in a placating gesture.
"Mike," Harvey repeats, signs of resignation bleeding into the edge of the word. Then he seems to rethink his position as he scowls and opens his mouth again. "You've said ten minutes. It's been half an hour. Donna's already here."
"Yeah, well," Mike replies, suddenly a bit sheepish, but it's not long before he's raising a finger and pointing it in Harvey's direction. "How was I supposed to know they had such impeccable pest control around here? By the time I've found something edible I was already late anyway, so," and with that, he finally turns around to greet Donna.
"Hi Donna! Sorry to keep you waiting."
Donna, who's been watching the exchange like it was the finals of a tennis tournament up until she could have a clear view of Mike's front, launches herself off the couch like a rocket at the sight.
"Oh my god, Mike, are you okay, what happened—"
"Oh," Mike says, confused, before he drops his head to the growing red patch on his chest where Donna's pointing, droplets of blood still dripping from his chin off to the hardwood floor.
"Ooooooh," he says, blinking back at her rapidly. Then, "Don't worry, none of it is mine."
"'Don't worry'?! How is that any better?!" Donna sputters. When Mike flicks his wrist in a ehh, maybe? Kind of? motion, she swiftly turns to Harvey's back to yell at him instead.
"Is that a regular occurrence with you two?! You didn't even ask him if he was hurt!"
At that, Harvey turns his back to the steak he was plating next to the sweet potatoes and deadpans, "Are you hurt?"
It takes Mike a couple of seconds to realize Harvey's talking to him. When he does, he replies with a cheerful, "Nope!" and the mindless show of sharp and blood-stained teeth has Donna doing a double take.
"Good," Harvey nods, back to handling their dinner. "Go shower. Dinner in ten."
"Roger that," Mike affirms and promptly turns on his heels to disappear behind the bathroom door down the hall.
Donna feels her eyes crossing as she tries to stop herself from staring at the pinpricks of blood on the floor Mike left behind as he walked by. Against the polished parquet, the droplets gleam like crimson pearls spilled from someone's broken necklace. She wonders if it would roll away if she decided to give one of them a poke with the tip of her shoe.
"So," Harvey says, interrupting Donna's musings and making her shake her head from side to side to banish the thoughts so she can focus. Harvey's unscrewing the wine with a cork next to three wine glasses on the island. He looks up from his work for a moment to make eye contact. "This isn't how I planned to tell you," he informs her seriously.
"Tell me what," Donna says, arms curling together in front of her chest. Harvey sighs and goes back to pouring the wine into the glasses. Then he plucks one and walks off to her side to hand it to her, a peace offering of sorts.
"That Mike is a vampire."
Donna accepts the wine graciously and downs the whole glass in one go. "Mike is a vampire." She repeats as she makes her way to the dinner table to set the glass down. "I already knew that," she adds flippantly.
"Of course," Harvey agrees, pulling up a chair to seat himself across Donna. "You already— Wait, what?"
Donna gives him a deadpan stare. Harvey sputters in response.
"How! I mean, I know how, you're Donna. Of course you knew. I mean— What was that reaction just now, then?"
"He was wearing a white dress shirt, Harvey," Donna says, not even ten minutes into the alleged reveal, and already fully exasperated. She reaches for the wine bottle, deciding a single glass is nowhere near enough for this conversation they're having.
"He was covered in blood, like he was a side character in a cheap nineties thriller. He was wearing a dress shirt," she repeats before taking a charitable sip of her drink as if the alcohol in it might just help her erase the bloody scene cemented behind her eyelids in high resolution. "A dress shirt! I know Mike, but I'd expected better from you. Can't believe you let him out to hunt wearing his work clothes."
"He was in a hurry," Harvey responds, a touch too defensive. He pushes his chair back to reach the bottle. He realizes there isn't much left in the bottle for Mike as he fills his own glass, but keeps pouring generously anyway. Mike's probably too full now to properly enjoy the drink. Besides, he deserves it. He's the one dealing with the fallout of their poorly kept secret, while Mike is taking a nice, hot shower, a safe distance away from Donna's wrath and her scathing remarks.
"And you've just let him?"
Harvey gives him his best deadpan stare in turn, which he knows by now Donna is completely immune to, but he feels compelled to keep up the pretense anyway, just for the sake of it.
"When have you ever seen Mike stop to ask permission before he committed to doing something stupid?"
Donna taps her chin with a meticulously manicured nail for only three seconds before relenting, "Understandable. And why was he in a hurry? I don't know that much about vampires, but I thought they were more… In control than this when it comes to feeding outside of a frenzy, I'll say."
"Mike is a different breed," Harvey tells her. Donna shrugs as if to say, okay, fair enough, but keeps raising her eyebrows in expectation of the story she knows is about to follow
Then Harvey proceeds to tell her about the work lunch they had the other day, during which Mike had inhaled an entire loaf of garlic bread all by himself.
"I thought vampires didn't like garlic," Donna interrupts, frowning. They could hear the door to the bathroom opening, and a wet pair of feet sliding along the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind.
"Like is a strong word," Harvey explains. "It's more akin to a lactose intolerance situation. Except worse."
"Elaborate," Donna demands, invested. Harvey complies with a sigh. She would figure it out on her own anyway, if given time and left to her own devices. He's saving time for all of them, he reasons to himself, by telling her the facts beforehand when he has the chance to explain it himself before she arrives at her own conclusions.
"He needs to feed sooner to recover if he makes contact with too much garlic, or digests it, apparently."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. I offered our usual arrangement, but he had already fed on me just a day ago, so he outright refused to do it again so soon and said he could go for a quick hunt and wait until next week like we would do otherwise."
"Usual arrangement?" Donna questions, perfect composure crumbling a little bit at the implication that Harvey would give himself up so easily, disbelief colouring her voice. She'd been aware of the little crush Harvey harbored toward the kid even before Harvey figured it out himself, but it's still hard to reconcile the picture of the normally composed closer with willingly playing prey for the benefit of a natural predator.
"It's better than him starving to death or getting desperate enough to jump an unsuspecting guy off the street, isn't it?" Harvey defends, without offering anything about his true motivations leading to his sacrifice.
Donna shakes her head from side to side and briefly considers handing in her resignation and moving to another state, but quickly decides that her pay is too good for that. Besides, where else would she get to have this much fun at the expense of her boss' and his associate/crush/partner-in-crime?
"Who's jumping unsuspecting guys off the street?" Mike chirps as he rounds the hall into the dining room. Wet patches of dirty blond hair curl onto his forehead and peak out in short spikes toward the back, droplets of water wetting the collar of his oversized Harvard sweatshirt. His borrowed sweatpants cling low to his under the top, covering the top of his socked feet.
Harvey's condo is cold and clinical at the worst times, the blinds closed and the rooms alight by the white fluorescent ceiling lights, and it's stylish with a touch of trendy at the best, all sleek white and black furniture with the records lining the walls providing a rare touch of character. Much less lived in and far more impersonal compared to Harvey's office where he spends most of his daytime. But in that moment, freshly showered and clad in comfortable and worn-out clothing clearly spelling out belonging to Harvey, Mike strangely looks more at home here than Harvey or Donna ever could. Like Harvey and Donna are the intruding guests, and Mike has been living here since time immemorial.
"Louis, obviously," Donna offers, filing away the new piece of information she's just heard in favor of familiar banter, eyes going soft around the edges as she takes in the relaxed lines of Mike's shoulders as he drops unceremoniously onto a chair right next to Harvey's. Needless to say, he looks much warmer and human, free of all the blood and dirt that painted his chin and shirt in a gruesome fashion less than half an hour ago.
"Obviously," Mike agrees, reaching for a fork, forgoing the wine and the glass entirely.
"Thought you'd be too full to enjoy dinner," Donna can't help but tease. She's got so much ammunition on these two now that she's officially in on the secret, and she's not gonna waste any time putting her work in it and making sure that they never forget she's always on top of it all.
"I probably won't be able to finish it all," Mike concedes with a half shrug, cutting a generous portion of the steak regardless. "But Harvey's cooking is too good to pass on. Besides, human food helps keep me going longer between feedings. I'm pretty sure you already knew that, though," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows.
Donna rolls her eyes for good measure, but nods her agreement anyway, admitting, "Sure. The fae don't mingle with the creatures of the night much, but I did collect enough stories over time to keep myself relatively safe in an unexpected situation."
Mike hums in agreement, mouth full, while Harvey tries really hard not to choke on the mouthful of wine he was just about to swallow down with the potatoes.
Mike stretches his arm without looking his way, hammering his back a few times. Harvey's premature and frankly quite embarrassing death gets narrowly diverted as the food does down the correct pipe, and Harvey manages to croak out, "Fae?"
"Yup," Donna offers with a sharp smile. "My great-grandmother from dad's side was fae," she adds as if it explains everything.
"I see," Mike nods, as if it really does. "Thought you might've had some witch blood in you, but fae works better considering how naturally easy it is for you to convince anyone of your bidding."
"Did you know about this?" Harvey questions with an accusing stare.
"I had my suspicions, just like Donna had hers."
Harvey swallows down his irritation with his next bite. He watches his two guests exchange loaded looks, silently resigning to the fact that it wasn't abnormal for his associate to be more observant about the one thing he knew better than Harvey did. It does leave a bad taste in his mouth though, knowing he's the last one on the table to figure out the truth.
Mike might be terrible at being a vampire in general, but he was an oblivious idiot only some of the time when it came to other matters. He was his most oblivious idiot self specifically when Harvey was trying to relay his maybe-not-so-platonic investment in their relationship via some flirting that got increasingly less subtle over time. Harvey barely resisted the urge to sag in defeat every time his remarks or gestures went right past Mike's head like fruit flies.
Luckily for Harvey, he doesn't need to ruminate in his self-made misery for long. Donna has a sixth sense for when Harvey's mood sours for seemingly no reason. Even if it tends to come down like pelting rain at times, he knows she'll always help him find shelter.
"So, Mike," Donna chimes in after a few minutes of prolonged silence, setting her cutlery on her empty plate with a click. "Is your Coven based in Brooklyn? Or are you one of those creatures who chase after more powerful witches for more benefits?"
"I," Mike begins, then twists his face in a thoughtful frown. "I'm not in any Coven? The only witch I know is the one who cast the spell for sunlight protection on my necklace, but she moved away to New Jersey, like, a decade ago. I just go pay her a visit every other year to renew the spell."
"You're not in any Coven?!" Donna exclaims the moment the words left Mike's mouth. Harvey could feel her outrage all the way across the dinner table like it was a physical force.
"What is a Coven," Harvey buts in impatiently.
"A Coven," Donna starts to explain patiently, not neglecting to give Mike a serious side-eye even as she angles her body to face Harvey more directly. "Is a community of witches that work together to perform certain rituals and occasionally help each other out when the situation requires it."
"I figured that much from the name alone. What does that have to do with Mike?"
"It's quite common for Covens to offer protection to other non-human beings in exchange for their services. Sometimes they require the presence of a certain creature to anchor their more long-term spells, or sometimes they can use their hair or blood as ingredients in their potions to make them more potent. It's a win-win for everyone involved; the lone creature gets a community out of it, and spares the witches from the trouble of individually hunting them down when they need their help."
Harvey and Mike turn to each other to exchange uncertain glances, not quite sure what to make of this new information Donna has revealed. Donna saves them the trouble by loudly rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest pointedly.
"Honestly, Mike. How you even managed to survive to this age without collapsing on the side of a street like roadkill in broad daylight on a random Tuesday is beyond me."
"You know, I find myself asking that same question quite often about him, and it started way before I knew he was a vampire. Ouch!" Harvey shouts, rubbing the side of his thigh with an open palm to soothe the sting of the pinch he's just received. Maybe sitting Mike right next to him at the table when they had a guest wasn't such a good idea.
"Asshole," Mike informs him through gritted teeth, displaying an overly cheerful smile.
"I can direct you to one of my connections to set you up with something," Donna proposes, completely ignoring their childish antics to keep hold of the conversation. "It's really not ideal that you don't even have a private contract with a witch, Mike, let alone with a Coven. You never know when you might need help from one, and they always drive up the bargain in their favour when they know you're desperate for it. Committing to a community in advance is your best option."
Mike's smile dims a little at that. Logically, he knows that Donna's only offering because following through is in his best interest, but the idea of sharing his secret with more people is a little more unnerving than he was prepared for tonight. Telling Harvey has been one thing, and bringing Donna in had been in the plans since there wasn't anything the secretary wasn't privy to concerning her boss' life at work or otherwise. Revealing his true nature to a bunch of strangers in case he required the use of their resources sometime down the road is something else entirely.
"Take some time to think about it," Donna says gently, sensing his discomfort from the rise of his shoulders and his stare fixed on the half-empty dinner plate. "If you want, you can ask Harvey to come with you to the meeting. I'm sure they won't mind it if you both promise not to talk about it to anybody."
"Oh," Mike breathes out, as if the possibility has never even occurred to him. Harvey feels offended at the clear display of surprise on Mike's face despite the fact that he also didn't think he'd be allowed to tag along to the meeting.
"They might require you to volunteer for a spell of secrecy, though," Donna adds thoughtfully, clearly addressing Harvey this time. "Or," she continues before Harvey can butt in and inquire about the specifics of the spellwork. "I can always ask Louis. I would never admit to his face, but he probably knows more about the local witch circles than I do."
"Louis?!" Harvey finds himself bellowing, incredulous, at the same time Mike lets out an equally loud, "What the fuck?"
"Oh, you didn't know?" Donna answers in the exact tone one would use when she's fully aware that her present company did, in fact, not know.
The headache which has been building at the root of Harvey's scalp since he first sent Mike to shower rises to the surface. Not a single thing has gone according to plan about this dinner so far, and it seems like that's not about to change with Donna's new announcement.
Harvey reaches for the almost empty bottle of wine, considers the glass for a few seconds and discards it just as quickly, and raises the bottle directly to his lips. He doesn't even try to reason with the logical side of his brain that is screaming at him from the background to mind his manners.
He needs this. It's gonna be a long night.