Chapter Text
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It was the first time Mike had been invited to a Specter Litt client’s firm party as a fully licensed lawyer.
Back when he was a brand-new associate and Harvey had taken him to such events to familiarize him with “that part of the job”, which was supposedly just as important as knowing the law, Mike had always felt terribly out of place.
He usually had no trouble striking up conversations with people and wasn't bothered by large crowds, whether at concerts, parties, or festivals, but these events were significantly different:
Obscenely wealthy people in suits and dresses that cost more than some cars, canapés that didn’t deserve to be called food, champagne glasses to hold onto and sip from as politely as possible, while chatting about superficial topics, never laughing too loudly, and trying to charm current and future clients by pretending to be interested in their boring stories about their spoiled children or trivial problems (Really, Porsche didn’t put you on the list for the latest model in its eleven-million-dollar exclusive series, even though you’re a regular customer there? Scandalous, we should definitely figure out if we can hold them liable for that!)
Mike used to believe that his sense of not fitting in had something to do with the fact that he had literally been fake—a fraud, a high school dropout, with no experience whatsoever of life in high society.
Harvey-I-am-a-gift-to-the-world- Specter, on the other hand—how could it be any other way—was as comfortable as a fish in water at these events; with an effortless smile and a tailored suit as if he were posing for the Sexiest Man Alive award, and with just the right amount of wit and charm, Mike had seen him ride across the halls on waves of confidence and success countless times, as if the entire event had been convened solely in his honor.
Mike had envied him just as much as he had admired him.
By now he was a fully licensed attorney himself, was driven to work by a chauffeur, and dressed in suits more expensive than the rent on his first apartment—and yet he still had to fight the overwhelming urge to constantly roll his eyes at most of these events.
Admittedly, he was now well aware of the significance of such events and realized that it was indeed part of the job to keep the wealthy and, correspondingly, self-centered clients happy by accepting these ridiculous invitations, despite knowing next to nothing about these people beyond the sum of their earnings and all their sordid legal secrets; but Mike would likely never be able to convince himself to enjoy this kind of event.
Or stop counting the hours till he could leave without feeling guilty.
Pre-drinking shouldn’t just be a concept for going to a nightclub, but definitely for fundraisers or client parties as well.
Thoughtfully, Mike looked at himself in the mirror as he tied the dark blue tie that matched his fine jacket. He couldn’t help but thinking about Harvey, as he always did when he casually measured the width of his tie with his fingers (Harvey would definitely like this one, or at least wouldn’t give him a disapproving look).
This event would be the first of its kind that they had attended together since Mike had returned to work at the firm.
He remembered the party with Darby during the merger negotiations, the first time he’d attended such an event while wearing uncomfortable shoes and feigning confidence—something that had been easy only because Harvey was there with him, had talked to him about work and included him as if it were perfectly natural.
That was nothing special in itself, because from day one, Harvey had treated Mike as if he belonged there—at the firm, in the legal profession, by his side—even if Mike had to prove it time and again by working hard.
Prove, it should be noted, not earn.
If anyone had always believed he first had to earn a chance and a better life, it was Mike, not Harvey—wherever he had gotten that conviction from back then.
A lot of time had passed and a lot had happened since that first party.
Mike’s interlude as an investment banker.
On-and-off with Rachel.
Cheating and engagement.
Donna, who had left Harvey to work for Louis because they didn’t want the same things in their personal lives, a rift from which their relationship never fully recovered.
Harvey’s panic attacks.
Mike’s arrest and imprisonment.
Harvey’s relentless fight to get him out.
Gallo.
Rachel, who hadn’t been able to endure it for even six months before moving to Stanford for a fresh start and to devote her free time between classes to her newly discovered passion, the Innocence Project, and helping people.
Ironically, she had told Mike that he had inspired her to take this path and to question her previous life choices, including her career goals.
What was he supposed to say when she had tearfully said goodbye to him in the prison visiting area, and he had been all too aware of the other inmates’ stares to be able to break down as well?
Every smile there equaled a provocation, every sign of weakness an invitation.
With a stony expression and a pat on her hand—which no longer wore his grandmother’s ring—he had assured her that he understood and wished her well, all accompanied by the typical “we’ll always remain friends and stay deeply connected” bullshit.
A day later, he’d been in such a violent fight with Gallo and one of his henchmen that he’d been put in isolation, and he was still wondering how much Harvey had paid whom to keep Mike’s sentence from being extended.
Not that Mike had cared at the time.
Even more ironic, thanks to a deal with Sean Cahill, Harvey had gotten him out of prison shortly afterward, thereby saving Kevin and him from Gallo just in time.
The months after that had put their friendship to a severe test, which had been mostly Mike’s fault, as he knew.
Harvey had practically torn himself apart trying to keep the firm afloat, first with Jessica and then with Louis; at the same time, he’d arranged for Mike’s sentence to be shortened, supported him afterward by paying for Mike’s livelihood, and stood by him whenever Mike had lost one of his new jobs because of his criminal record.
Most of the time, Mike had snapped at him, insisting he needed neither his pity nor his charity, only to show up at Harvey’s door every few days, dead drunk, complaining about his messed-up life, his ex, and the injustice of the world.
At times, he had been suffocated by the silence of his lonely apartment, where he was haunted by nightmares of dark corners, clanging cells, and laughing men from whom he tried to hide so as not to get beaten up again or end up with another scar.
If Rachel hadn’t already left, he would probably have driven her away by then—with his mood swings, his impatience, his restlessness, his inability to endure a quiet room for any length of time.
But Mike had to get over it, so Harvey had to endure it.
He knew he’d been ungrateful and insensitive, especially since Harvey hadn’t just suffered from seeing Mike in that state, but had also blamed himself for it. As a good friend, Mike should have spared him further guilt and pulled himself together, worked it out somehow on his own, or at least behaved less like an asshole, but he’d just been tired of it.
Tired of pretending he wasn’t at the end of his rope, as if prison hadn’t robbed him of a part of himself and as if Rachel hadn’t broken his heart, of all times, just when he desperately needed someone he could rely on.
Not that he could blame her for no longer being able to bear the uncertainty and fear of whether he might not come out of prison alive or completely changed—he had expected just such a scenario, which was why he had postponed the wedding in the first place.
However, it would have been a lie to say he hadn’t hoped that she would truly wait for him; that her love and longing would outweigh the negative emotions.
In vain.
Only three times had she managed to bring herself to visit him in prison, and each time he could see how much effort it had taken her to face him, knowing that this would be her reality for the next two years.
How could he have claimed to love her, yet at the same breath demanded she endure endless months of loneliness and fear, simply because he had committed a crime?
But how could she have claimed to love him, and yet abandoned him at a time like this?
In the end, the only one who had stayed was Harvey.
Of all people.
Harvey-I-don't-do-caring-Specter.
As if Mike were still the same man—not an angry, broken, bitter ex-convict, but someone who was still worth something—someone who deserved good things to happen to him, and if fate or Mike himself didn’t take care of it, he’d just take matters into his own hands.
Just as Harvey always took everything into his own hands, with a mentality of being able to make things happen simply because he wanted them to.
And he had done it.
Harvey hadn't just prevented Mike from shutting himself off out of sheer defiance and grief; he had kept fighting until Mike had truly become a member of the bar and could once again do what he loved—the only thing that, despite the fraud, had ever felt right.
Work had helped him considerably to regain a sense of purpose while keeping him busy.
His friend had offered Mike ridiculously generous terms to get him to work with him again, alongside his work in the legal clinic, and this time Mike had agreed.
Harvey might not know it, but it had never been easy for Mike to refuse him any request, even though he had done it increasingly in recent years. Part of him had wanted to distance himself from Harvey to find his own path as a lawyer and as a person.
Another part had simply wanted to prevent Harvey from being forced to save him over and over again—because Mike wanted him to see more than that.
He wanted him to see a man who had his life under control, someone his equal, not the kid who was always getting into trouble.
That was why he’d eventually turned down Harvey’s help, but he hoped his friend knew that it was only because of him that he’d gotten back on his feet time and time again.
Life had beaten Mike down so many times that, after Rachel at the latest, he had been on the verge of simply staying down and accepting what fate had obviously been trying to achieve ever since it had torn his parents away from him in his childhood: that he finally gave up.
Except that Harvey Specter never gave up on anything or anyone, and that obviously included certain people—in this case, Mike Ross.
All that patience, that stubbornness, that simple refusal to walk away—as everyone else in Mike’s life had a habit of doing—had finally washed away Mike’s resignation just as much as his self-pity. With each passing week, the memories of prison had faded further, just as had the pain of losing Rachel, and he had once again become a man worthy of the name.
Sure, Mike might have needed some time to adjust after all the losses of the past few years, but he had known even during his time in prison—when he’d picked a fight with Harvey on nearly every visit—that he was behaving repulsively. Fear and being overwhelmed were not exactly a recipe for bringing out the best in someone.
After his release, that had changed only slowly, and he doubted that he would have been able to tolerate himself for so long if he were in Harvey’s shoes; how often he had insulted him, ignored his calls, or refused his help, only to suddenly have a change of heart when the mood struck him.
Mike hadn't liked that version of himself, but there was a reason why they said that the right people in your life are the ones who stick around even when you’re at your worst.
Harvey had stayed.
Just once, Mike had tried to apologize to his friend for that time.
It had been Trevor’s birthday, and of course Mike had remembered the date, even though being reminded of his former best friend was now nothing but bitter and painful. It had suddenly dawned on Mike that, in recent times, he had been a similarly useless, ungrateful friend to Harvey—one who was only dragging him down into the abyss—and the guilt had hit him like a wrecking ball.
At the first opportunity—a dinner at Harvey’s apartment after they’d been poring over case files—Mike couldn’t bear the weight of the thought any longer and began to apologize.
At first, Harvey looked at him completely bewildered, as if Mike were talking about something utterly absurd, until, after not even three sentences, he shook his head and cut him off.
“You don’t have to apologize to me. You’ve had a rough time and the right to lash out.”
“I had no right to treat you like shit.”
He shrugged. “I was there. And I could take it.”
“Yes, and that’s why I did it.” Because Mike had known that Harvey would take it all and still wouldn't leave. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“I’d say neither of us covered ourselves in glory during that time.”
“That’s not true.”
It was so damn far from the truth, in fact, that Mike wondered if Harvey actually believed it or was just saying it so Mike wouldn’t be so miserable.
Sure, there were times when Harvey had harshly told him to pull himself together and stop feeling sorry for himself.
Sometimes he’d roughly toss fresh clothes or a washcloth in his face when Mike didn’t want to get out of bed.
Very rarely, Harvey had lost his patience and yelled back when they had argued.
Once he’d caught Mike on the balcony with a joint, snatched it from his mouth, and crushed it in his hand while it was still burning, before tossing it aside and calling Mike a disgrace to his parents and his grandmother.
Mike had tried to punch him, but Harvey had blocked the blow with ease.
A brief, furious scuffle.
Somehow it had ended with him sobbing into Harvey’s shoulder for five minutes like a distraught four-year-old, because drugs obviously weren’t fun anymore once you were at rock bottom.
Another time, his friend had smashed a beer bottle in a fit of rage when he’d had to pick Mike up from a bar, completely wasted, cursing and ranting.
Still, he’d done it.
More than once.
Mike suppressed a bitter smile. “I was the problem.”
It took a lot of effort for him to resist saying “am.”
“You never were a problem, Mike. And if you were, then you were mine, and therefore my responsibility to take care of.”
The warmth that blossomed in Mike’s chest at these words, like a field of sunflowers, almost made him forget his guilt. Almost.
“Still. I feel guilty that you had to go through that.”
That remark drew a faint smile from him. “I’ve been there.”
Now it was Mike’s turn to grimace. He would never be able to convince Harvey that the two situations weren’t comparable; he didn’t force Mike to take the job, nor had he transferred Gallo to Danbury.
He had never intentionally hurt Mike or tried to push him away because he simply hadn’t been able to handle his affection the way Mike had done so exemplary for weeks on end.
“Okay, so can we make a deal? No more guilt, from either of us. A fresh start. In keeping with our history, with a clause that allows for guilt over new mistakes, of course.”
Harvey reacted with striking restraint to the joke and remained silent for a moment; he obviously had to search his heart to see if he was capable of sincerely accepting this offer.
If he was able to let go of the guilt over Mike’s imprisonment and consider it settled.
Resolutely, Mike raised his hand—a challenge, of course, but just as much a plea: If you forgive yourself, I will too.
And even if not for himself, in the end, Harvey had taken Mike’s hand.
To a new beginning.
Glancing at his watch, Mike buttoned his suit jacket, checked to make sure he had everything he needed and left his apartment.
He waited down on the street, where a limousine pulled up a few minutes later.
“Nice tie,” Harvey greeted him with his usual smug grin from the seat next to him, as soon as he got in.
The past few years of tension and deprivation (Mike tried not to feel addressed, but knew he had contributed to both) had left their mark, adding a few more wrinkles to his face and robbing him of some of his carefree ease, but in the tight-fitting black suit with the burgundy tie, he was still ridiculously attractive. Probably because he still worked out consistently and used skincare products worth more than half the value of Mike’s entire apartment.
“Don’t even get started.“ Being stuck at this party for the next few hours would be bad enough even without starting the evening with an insult.
“Why? Can’t I be genuine and compliment you on your choice of clothes?”
“That would be a first.”
“It’s pretty much the first time it hasn’t come off the rack at a discount store.”
Mike didn’t dignify that with a response, instead staring stubbornly out the window, mainly because he could feel his face growing hotter since Harvey had smiled at him with such sincere appreciation.
Yep, that was the other thing that had changed.
Mike had no idea when exactly it had happened.
Without him noticing, his feelings toward Harvey had always gradually shifted in intensity and nuance the more time they had spent together; admiration, gratitude, respect, the desire to please, friendship, closeness, loyalty bordering on self-sacrifice, brotherly affection, interspersed with plenty of frustration, rivalry, arguments, and fights—and then there had been that one morning, entirely unremarkable in itself.
Mike woke up with a dry mouth and a slight throbbing behind his forehead, finding himself on Harvey’s couch, with a blanket over him and fresh coffee on the counter.
They had celebrated Mike’s admission to the Bar with quite a bit of alcohol—first with everyone at the firm and then continuing at Harvey’s place, with even better whiskey, half-heartedly watching “Runaway Jury” and mocking the lawyers shown on the screen until Mike had obviously fallen asleep.
This had happened to him so often in recent months that it had almost become a habit—sometimes on the couch, sometimes in Harvey’s guest room.
No big deal.
Still half-asleep and with a foggy mind, Mike shuffled first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, drawn by the comforting aroma of coffee. Despite his age, Harvey seemed to handle a hangover more easily, as he had apparently already headed off to work, but had left Mike a message.
Take the day off today—the last time before I make you work hard for your money again, Mr. Lawyer. I never doubted that you eventually would be exactly where you always wanted to be. You deserve it. Be proud of yourself, Mike.
Which was pretty much the same as saying that Harvey was proud of him, even if he probably wouldn’t have been comfortable leaving written evidence of such a declaration.
No caring and all.
With a tender smile, Mike read the message again and—BAM—suddenly became aware of his rapidly fluttering heart.
Wait—what the hell?
That had never happened before.
Warmth and affection and trust, yes, but no heart pounding.
No deep, heartfelt smile at the mere thought of how Harvey had gently tucked him in, made him coffee, and written the note as he left the apartment so Mike could find it when he woke up.
All of those were the acts of a damn good friend, but Mike’s reaction to them wasn’t.
Fuck.
The heart pounding that followed had been more due to the panic washing over him.
He was definitely too old for self-denial on a grand scale, but also no longer young enough to suddenly question his sexuality and romantic habits like a confused teenager. Sure, everyone had experimented a little in college and he’d been no exception, and although he could certainly appreciate a male body as attractive and enjoy it during sex, he’d never fallen in love with a man.
Not even close.
Not because he had consciously decided to do so, but simply because it had just always been like that, that only women had stirred deeper feelings within him.
Apparently, there was a first time for everything, and of course it had to happen now, just as he was finally getting his life back on track—with Harvey, his best friend, the only person he wouldn’t risk driving away for anything in the universe.
The world really did keep finding new, inventive ways to screw him over.
Fuck!
Since that realization (and he was quite proud of having reacted with hysterical laughter instead of tears), he’d spent a lot of time wondering whether he’d always been secretly a little bit into Harvey, with those feelings then getting buried under his love for Rachel and now simply resurfacing more intensely, or whether it was all because of everything Harvey had done for him.
Whatever label Mike might use to describe their relationship, there was no question that he had never felt so cared for, protected, and loved by anyone as he did by Harvey.
Maybe it wasn’t about gender at all, and certainly not about strict boundaries between romantic and platonic love.
Maybe it was simply that, ever since their first meeting, his soul had told him that he and Harvey were connected—and since Harvey, too, had changed, had become more open with his feelings, and had actually allowed himself to be vulnerable, Mike’s heart had simply taken the next, logical step as a response to all the time, affection, patience, and effort that Harvey had tirelessly given him for nearly a year after Danbury.
Not that the knowledge that he loved Harvey as more than just a friend or brother would change anything.
Mike had been willing to go through fire and water for him before, and he had no interest in destroying their relationship—which was finally back on solid ground—by making romantic advances toward him, knowing full well how he would respond.
Harvey supposedly had already had his experiences with men; according to him, especially if they had been attractive and challenging enough, so if he had been interested in Mike in that way, Mike would surely have noticed it over the past few years. Not to mention that, despite all his emotional progress, Harvey still had a problem with long-term relationships—but if he had ever dated anyone for more than one night, it had only been women.
Perhaps because that was more compatible with the image Harvey had always presented to the world; even in this century, it was still a beautiful woman that belonged on the arm of a rich, influential man to complete him.
After the drama with Donna and Paula, however—at least according to Mike’s observations over the past three months—Harvey had taken the issue of relationships off the table for the time being.
Mike couldn’t blame him.
Thanks to Rachel, he’d been single for quite some time and, in many ways, more unsatisfied than ever before. His newly discovered feelings for his best friend certainly didn’t help him open up to anyone new, but for the moment, Mike could live with that just fine.
As for Harvey, Mike couldn’t tell whether he was enjoying his self-imposed celibacy or still suffering from heartbreak—which, annoyingly, caused a strange rumbling in Mike’s stomach either way.
He didn’t even flirt with the waitresses anymore when they ate out (which was a blessing for Mike’s peace of mind, since jealousy had apparently become a regular at their table thanks to his latest whim), so Mike was actually curious to see if Harvey would put his charisma to the test today and charm half the women at the party.
“I thought you’d be in a better mood,” Harvey said, distracting him from his repetitive thoughts about friendship, love, and calculating the amount of alcohol he could safely consume as a distraction before embarrassing Harvey—or himself— “as a highly paid junior partner at a top firm, with a real degree...”
Mike gave a crooked grin. “Strictly speaking, I still don’t have a degree; I’m just a member of the Bar.”
“Good point,” Harvey conceded. “Still, there’s no reason you shouldn’t walk in there with confidence, Mike. They’ll just see what I see.”
“Finally, a tie that isn’t too skinny?”
“That, and above all, that you belong here.”
The conviction in Harvey’s voice caused a warm shiver to run through Mike’s gut, prompting him to glance up at Harvey’s face. He saw the same determination in those brown eyes, which glimmered softly in the dim light of the car like dark caramel.
Yep, he definitely hadn’t thought that much about how handsome Harvey was before.
A very distracting side effect of these new feelings.
Had he already mentioned that he was screwed?
“Thanks,” he replied in a modest tone, his voice betraying not a hint of his inner turmoil. “I really appreciate that. But you know full well that I’m still an ex-convict sentenced for fraud. So, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to take me to this event.”
“I had the choice between you and Louis, so...”
“Louis is off with Sheila, so you didn’t have any choice at all.”
“Exactly. Cremser is one of the first major clients we were able to land after Jessica left.” His facial expression gave nothing away, but Mike could tell from his toneless voice how much he missed his mentor.
To save Mike’s license, Jessica had lost hers in New York—yet another thing Mike had somehow cost Harvey.
But then again, they had a deal.
The only thing Mike was still allowed to feel guilty about were his new, lewd thoughts regarding his friend.
And about that he felt quite a lot, but as long as he didn’t act differently toward Harvey, continued to be simply a good friend to him—or rather, a decent friend at all—he wasn’t doing any harm.
Except to himself, perhaps, but that was a recurring theme in his life.
In his opinion, though, it had worked perfectly over the past few weeks.
As long as he simply kept consistently ignoring the ever-growing hole of heat and longing in his stomach and, whenever they interacted intimately, suppressed the urge to grab Harvey’s hand or kiss his stupid, arrogant grin.
Yep, he was doing great.
(So screwed.)
“Cremser helped us plug a big financial hole back then—you don’t turn down an invitation like that. Besides, you need to get out more, Mike; all you do is spend time at the firm or clinic.”
“How nice of you to worry about my social life.”
There was at least as much irony in Mike’s voice as there was gel in Harvey’s hair.
(And it looked fantastic. Damn it all to hell.)
“Well, Nathan and Oliver aren’t supposed to spoil you.”
Mike had actually expected a joke about the fact that 90% of his social life consisted of Harvey, because when they weren’t working together, they at least saw each other at the office, and they often met up for a drink, a meal, or a movie at Harvey’s place, where Mike still spent a lot of time.
Not because the memory of prison still haunted him, not because his apartment felt empty now that Rachel and her things were gone, but because being around Harvey did him good.
He didn’t have to explain why he sometimes showed up at his door unannounced—sometimes with food from some restaurant, sometimes with a six-pack of beer, sometimes with nothing but empty hands and the desire to escape the loneliness of his apartment.
Even if they’d argued fiercely just moments before—about cases, about Mike’s overtime at the legal clinic, about a client—Harvey never slammed the door in his face.
They didn’t always talk, they didn’t necessarily get along, but he never turned him down.
Seriously, how could he not have fallen in love with the guy?
Perhaps his heart had done it out of self-defense, no longer knowing what to do with all that affection and feeling of being accepted and understood so unconditionally.
All the more important, then, that Mike met other people so he could continue to credibly pretend not to only think about the man beside him—as he did first thing when he woke up and last thing before he went to sleep.
(Totally, hopelessly, completely scr...!)
“What’s wrong with Nathan and Oliver? Or are you jealous?” Mike asked teasingly, earning himself a roll of the eyes.
“Surely not. I’ve got bets running on how long it’ll take before Nathan can’t stand your questionable work ethic anymore and kicks you out. Again.”
“You’ve never been able to fire me for good; I always come back.”
It was meant to be another joke, but Harvey’s playful expression turned serious.
“I know. Lucky for me.”
In the past, Harvey would never have missed the opportunity to take another dig, but as Mike noticed once again: his friend was just as much a different man from when they first met as Mike himself was.
So he savored the sincerity in Harvey’s words instead of teasing him about it.
The car slowed down, which probably meant they had reached their destination.
When Mike got out, he was met by fresh sea air, still warmed by the sun that had stood high in the sky all day but was now slowly retreating toward the horizon. It would still be mild enough to wear just a shirt, but Mike knew that Harvey would have skinned him alive if he’d dared to show up like that for a client meeting.
“Why are we at the harbor?” he wondered as Harvey stepped up beside him and pointed toward an idyllic, clearly private dock.
A huge, brightly lit yacht was anchored there. Mike estimated it to be at least 30 meters long, and judging by the music and the jumble of chatting, laughing voices, it was already well attended.
“Cremser’s party is on a yacht?” Mike realized, staring at Harvey, who nodded with a grin, clearly very pleased with his surprise.
“He builds the engines for these things; of course he owns one. Once all the guests are here, we’ll head out a bit to see the city at night. Don’t worry, just a few meters from the shore so we don’t violate any noise regulations. In case you’re prone to seasickness.”
“I’m not. And even if he gets in trouble, he’s got his lawyers right there with him,” Mike said, walking with Harvey toward the dock to take the jeltty eading to the yacht.
The image of walking across a plank came to mind involuntarily.
“You have no reason to be nervous, Mike,” Harvey said then, as if reading Mike’s mind once again. “You belong here. You did before, but now no one can deny it anymore. You’ve earned it.”
Mike didn’t answer but just smiled to himself.
He still didn’t quite believe it, or couldn’t shake the strange feeling that this party was simply not a good idea, but now he was here and would get it over with his head held high.
It was enough for him that Harvey thought he belonged here, by his side.
And in the privacy of his thoughts, he was allowed to take as much pleasure in that as he wanted.
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