Chapter Text
Mike springs the question on him after Harvey's watched him stare blankly at the ceiling for a while, too wired to sleep but too tired to do anything other than zone out. He's stolen more glances than a well-rested Mike would've allowed, watching for almost 20 minutes as the blond loses himself in half baked conclusions and trains of thought with no track. He’s still watching as Mike comes back to himself, inhaling a little too sharply before turning to look at Harvey, asking the question in a quiet, subdued voice. A glance at the corner of his laptop tells him it's almost three in the morning, just eight minutes shy of the witching hour.
Harvey doesn't grace him with a response at first, letting the question sit in the silence between them, sinking slowly through the air like a stray sheet of paper. His gaze slides back to his screen; He finishes typing the sentence he'd been in the middle of when Mike started talking, then another, and then one more before he sits back in his chair with a huff. A better stopping point- He can take a little break now. When he looks at Mike, he finds blue eyes already trained on his face, tracing familiar contours with the indifference of someone who doesn't care if he's caught. The kid's lucky that Harvey's already so used to feeling Mike's gaze on him, whether consciously or not- makes it easier to ignore. He wonders what Mike is looking for.
They stare at each other for a few long moments. Harvey does not hide the way his eyes sweep over Mike's face in turn, tracing contours he himself finds familiar. His favorites are still the same: the slope of Mike's nose, the curve of his lashes, the subtlety of his cupid's bow. Harvey remembers the question suddenly as he's studying Mike's mouth, his train of thought passing over it like a speed bump. He blinks, shaking his head a little before answering.
"Marilyn Monroe."
Mike doesn't react immediately, half lidded eyes intently watching how Harvey's mouth moves. The recognition that an answer has been given to him filters into his eyes sluggishly, interest flashing through them. He blinks, dragging them away from Harvey's mouth to meet his gaze.
"Really. Can you explain why?"
It's Harvey's turn to not react immediately, instead studying Mike's face once more. The kid's clearly exhausted, unable to help the slackness of his usually upturned mouth. His eyes are still half-lidded, fluttering every few moments, but all of the attention he can muster is being given to Harvey, blue peeking through pale blond lashes. The smudges under them are deep, and there's something like a plea in his gaze; He wants Harvey to talk him into a nap. He won't get what is clearly much needed sleep otherwise.
Harvey sighs. Picks up a stack of papers, shuffles them around, taps the bottoms of them on his desk. Mike is still watching him, still hopeful, still subdued. He sighs again, but it’s too fond.
"Well, for one thing-"
And then he talks. Harvey tells Mike real reasons for having her as a dream dinner guest, and a few fabrications he knows Mike is too sleepy to process properly- The older hopes they give him weird dreams. He watches, fond and amused and a little exasperated as Mike tries to hum in all the right places for a valiant few minutes, body naturally settling and relaxing into the couch as Harvey's voice lulls him to sleep. Harvey can't help the smile that breaks through his faux aloof expression when he hears the softest of snores.
He shakes his head. This goddamn kid.
Turning back to his laptop, he checks the time again: 3:15. He nods to himself, casting one last glance at Mike before standing quietly. Not bothering to put his waistcoat or suit jacket back on, Harvey creeps out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he can behind him (Not that it's necessary- He knows they couldn't close loudly, even if he tried) before heading for the partner break room.
He'll wake Mike up after he's finished his coffee and send him to get them both more to help him wake up again. Not everyone had such a benevolent and lenient boss, after all. Some of them didn't have the luxury of tapping out for the night.
(Mike wakes up at 6 o'clock exactly, disoriented and sore from sleeping in a weird position, to Harvey asleep on the armchair next to him. His hand is right next to Mike's foot, the back of it almost brushing his ankle. His brow twitches when Mike kicks it gently.)