Work Text:
Mike wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed earlier.
It started with cufflinks.
An innocent, elegant black box was lying on his desk when he came into work one morning. He looked around before opening it. There were no clues as to who put it there, but it was blaringly obvious, because who the hell else would get him cufflinks with the scales of justice engraved onto them?
Mike smiled, and something weird happened in his stomach that could be akin to what a teenage girl would call “butterflies,” but he wasn’t a teenage girl, so he let the smile on his face be all that he acknowledged.
Sure, on a surface level, it was already a nice gesture. His boss had bought him ridiculously expensive cufflinks (Mike didn’t want to ask, but he would have to in order to repay him) that were tailored to his career. But those who knew Mike, and more specifically, Mike’s secret, would understand that Mike saw this as something a little deeper. An “I see you.” Harvey thinks Mike is a lawyer, and a damn-good one at that. These definitely sufficed for all the compliments that went unsaid, he thought as he snapped them on.
As he did, Harvey walked by and smirked as he casually said:
“Looking sharp, Ross.”
Mike smiled and watched him glide out of the room, staring at the spot where Harvey’s absence was increasingly clear for far too long.
Louis had watched this entire interaction unfold and tapped on his desk to deliver more paperwork. And a caveat.
“Be careful, Mike.”
Any other day, Mike would’ve taken that as a snide remark; one of jealousy, one of anger. But today, the elation from Harvey’s gift (and attention), coupled with the apprehensive look on Louis’ face led him to asking:
“Why? Harvey gonna break my heart?”
“That I can’t say for sure. But what I can say is you’re making your heart too easy to break.”
Mike watched incredulously as Louis walked away, because that was his way of telling Mike he was falling headfirst into Harvey Specter’s charm.
And he would be right.
But who’s to say Harvey wasn’t falling right into his?
…
Then came the clothes.
Once, just once, Harvey convinced (trapped) Mike to go to Rene’s.
And maybe a few more after that.
And a couple more times after that.
Okay, so now he might’ve been a regular at Rene’s. And Harvey insisted on paying every single time.
“Mike, tell me I don’t see you pulling out your wallet.”
“You do see that, because I am, because I’m about to drop an enormous amount of cash on these stupi–”
A glare from Rene.
“...suits, per your request.”
“You said it yourself, it’s per my request. Therefore, I’ll cover it.”
“Harvey, you cover it every time. There’s a point where it stops being 'covering' and starts being 'explicit buying.'”
“Mike, we have this conversation every time. It is not going to change. Surely you know the definition of insanity?”
God, he was impossible.
“At least let me pay for lunch.”
“No.”
Harvey replied as he ran his card through the scanner.
“Harvey!”
Harvey cracked a smile at Mike’s whining.
“When are you gonna start liking my spending money on you? Because let me tell you, Mike, from women to men, you’re the only one who’s ever had a problem with it.”
Mike frowned at the implication that Harvey does this often. That there’d be a next after Mike. It shouldn’t make him upset, and it definitely shouldn’t make him say what he says next, but it does.
Harvey just does things to him.
“This happen to you frequently? You find yourself buying hoards of expensive clothes for someone?”
Mike tried to keep the conversation casual by not stopping walking as Harvey had, right outside the store.
Instead of calling him back, like Mike assumed he would, Harvey only strode a little faster to catch up with him. And for some reason, that gave Mike a headrush.
Harvey just shrugs:
“A few times. I’m sure you don’t know this, considering your lack of experience, but a woman loves a good dress.”
And there it was. All Mike’s hopes of this being something other than what it was fizzled out.
He gripped the bag a little tighter, till his knuckles whitened.
“I bet they do.”
Harvey’s head tilted, and he smirked as he saw Mike’s hand and his clenched jaw.
“And men love a good suit.”
Mike’s eyes flickered up: wide and hopeful, and all Harvey did was nod.
That was enough confirmation.
A very anti-climactic, Harvey-esque coming out.
He had to reciprocate somehow; this may be his only shot.
“Don’t I know it.”
Harvey’s eyes sparkled with what Mike would say was hope, if he didn’t know any better.
“Also, I don’t just buy them clothes. I remember myself saying a vague ‘spending money.’”
“You also said I was ‘one’ of them. You're gonna buy me more than clothes?”
“Attaboy.”
Harvey praised as he led Mike into a fancy restaurant by the small of his back, where he promptly bought him dinner.
But when Mike was too busy to go in, he’d get a package at his door the next morning. How was Harvey allowed to do this? He didn’t know.
All he knew was that every time he wore his remotely-Harveyed suits into the office the same morning, Harvey immediately came looking for him and was never disappointed at what he saw; always dropping a “Someone figured out how to dress well,” or a “You got a date tonight, Mike?”
He always loved it when Harvey asked the second one because, while it had a teasing, light-hearted tone, he couldn’t miss the slight bite in his words, the dark look in his eyes. And every time Mike shot down the idea, the bite went away, and so did the darkness. Mike tried not to think about Harvey trying to encroach on his love life subtly, and definitely couldn’t think about Harvey getting riled up with jealousy over Mike’s hypothetical date.
Harvey always looked especially relieved (with a possible twang of flustered) when Mike responded: “Unless dinner with you tonight counts as a date.”
After he said it the first time, Donna called him to talk after Harvey had walked away with a smile on his face.
“You just made Harvey Specter blush.”
“What?! No, I didn’t. Did I? I didn’t see anything.”
“That’s because it is so subtle you can blink and miss it. Also, incredibly rare. He likes you, Mike, and you like him.”
Why did Donna have to know everything?
“It’s not like that–”
“Oh, it definitely is like that! Listen, puppy, I’ve known from day one. Everyone can see the way he looks at you, and if everyone can see it? I can damn near hear it. He hasn’t been doing anything about it because he’s Mr. Professional, but I think the dam broke the day you wore those way-too-tight slacks and let Rachel try her new mascara out on you.”
“They shrank! And you think he noticed the mascara? It was clear!”
“Oh, he noticed, honey. I saw him eyeing you like you just hung the moon. The trademarked lip lick and all.”
“Donna, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
She just shrugged. God, why was everyone being so cavalier about this?
“Just do what you’ve been doing, Mike. Let it happen. Let Harvey Specter court you.”
Oh, Jesus.
“He is not courting me!”
“Really? You’re wearing cufflinks and a suit he bought you that he used as an excuse to see if you were dating anyone. He’s courting you, puppy.”
“Well– How do I let him know I–”
Mike looked around the seemingly empty office. He never knew where Louis was hiding.
“How do I reciprocate?”
He whispered, even though he didn’t see anyone.
“You really don’t get it, do you? You already are. Any associate who has a normal relationship with their boss would’ve rejected his seemingly innocent advances a long time ago. But you aren’t, and you won’t, because you like him. And trust me, he knows it.”
Mike tried to push past the implication that his crush was obvious.
“If he knows, then why is he still ‘courting’ me?”
This time, Donna’s smile was sickly-sweet.
“Because he really, really likes you. Now he’s just trying to show you how much you mean to him in hopes you’ll stay.”
“Stay at the firm?”
“No, idiot. Stay with him. Now shoo, I have work to do.”
Mike’s head was reeling as he walked woozily back to his cubicle.
…
The clothes didn’t just stop there, though.
The packages came when he was too busy, but also after a particularly hard case.
The night after closing a case that had kept him at the office late every day that week?
A new suit, with a note:
“Get some rest, pup. H.S”
He smiled (he was falling hard and fast) and thought about shooting Harvey a thank-you text, but remembered what Donna had said about Mike’s reciprocation.
Just let it happen.
So, instead of a thank you, Mike put on the suit, snapped a picture, and sent it to him.
Was texting your boss a picture of you wearing the clothes he bought you at 11:30 pm on a Friday an HR violation?
He didn’t have time to ponder that scenario much longer because it took Harvey a good 30 seconds to reply.
Mike vetoed the thought of Harvey slipping on reading glasses to look at a text.
“Fits just how I thought it would.”
And somehow, Mike was smiling down coquettishly at his phone like a high school girl as he typed back:
“You’ve been thinking about me?”
Harvey’s three dots appeared for longer than they should’ve, and Mike knew he had already won. But the win was confirmed when Harvey only replied with:
“Shut up.”
Yeah, he’d won.
…
It happened after every minor inconvenience, now.
But rarely ever suits anymore, considering his small apartment would be filled to the brim with luxurious textiles if that were the case.
No, Harvey had dipped into other gifts.
The morning after the debacle with Trevor? He picked up a small black box outside his door. No note, no nothing.
Inside? A bracelet. A gold bracelet. A gold bracelet with ohmygod– were those diamonds? He felt nauseous and immediately pulled out his phone and texted Harvey in a panic:
“Cubic zirconium, right?”
A quick reply, this time. Which could only mean one thing: Harvey thought he was going to win.
“Have you met me?”
Mike was definitely gonna throw up, but he couldn’t let Harvey know the extent of his worries, so he tried to deflect.
“Why’d you get gold?”
The gold was probably real, too. Holy shit.
A longer typing time. Mike didn’t even think winning mattered anymore. How much did this heirloom cost?
“I know you usually wear silver, but gold makes you look warm.”
And that was Harvey in a nutshell. Reassuring Mike that it was no mistake, he knew him thoroughly; no, no, this was very intentional. Harvey was customizing him.
Had he let this get too far?
“I even wear jewelry of your choice now?”
A pause.
“I’ll order a silver one. Or you can send it back.”
Shit!
He’d gotten under Harvey’s skin; made him feel insecure, had implied a severe power imbalance in their relationship, and even though there definitely was, Mike could clearly see by his response Harvey wasn’t trying to parade him around. He was just doing what Donna said. Trying to show him what he means.
He had to fix this, and fast.
He slipped the bracelet on (it did make him look warm) and held it up next to his eyes. Harvey had a thing about always trying to make Mike’s blue eyes ‘pop.’
He snapped a picture and sent it, captioned with:
“You were right. I like it.”
Mike was praying he’d reply like he thought he would.
Three dots, three dots, three dots.
He was contemplating.
Just as Mike was about to set the phone down and pace nervously in circles:
“I like it too. Makes your eyes pop.”
Boom. Harvey had sent him a priceless bracelet, and he had still won.
Was he…good at this?
He thought about ending the conversation there, but remembered that Harvey had totally saved Trevor’s ass for him and had then sent him a gift the next day. Like he deserved it.
Maybe Harvey thought he did.
“Thank you, for the thing with Trevor and for the bracelet. Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to pick out that bracelet, either. You don’t exactly have the eye.”
Mike smiled and was about to reply with something like: Nor the wallet, but he noticed Harvey was typing again.
“You’re welcome. Next time, come to me straight away.”
It felt like a demand, and Mike could feel the win slipping from his grasp.
“Not gonna ask that I just stay out of trouble?”
“Would you listen?”
Goosebumps arose on the back of his neck.
“Good point.”
Mike had ended up agreeing with him; okay, maybe he wasn’t that good.
…
One random day when he wasn’t needed in the office, he got another black box. His face fell in confusion, and as he opened it, he immediately texted Harvey.
“You got me socks?”
“What good is an associate with blisters on his heels?”
Harvey may or may not have gotten him new shoes that were too expensive for him to voice that they hurt just a little. How Harvey even noticed was beyond him.
“But nothing bad happened.”
Mike didn’t need to elaborate for Harvey to know what he was referring to, which told Mike he was deliberately breaking his pattern. He wants to segue into sending Mike just because presents.
“Something bad needs to happen for me to be nice to you?”
“This is much more than ‘nice,’ and you know it.”
“They’re just socks, Mike.”
“That probably cost a fortune.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about that?”
“Let me take you out to dinner to make up for it.”
Mike had to squeeze his eyes shut as he waited for a response. They hadn’t talked about whatever had been going on, and of course Mike had to be the first one to bring it up.
“No.”
…What? Oh shit. Oh my god ohmygod he is definitely gonna get fired, how could he misrea–
“I’ll take you out. Ray will be outside at 7.”
He almost frantically responded, “I hate you,” but that would tell Harvey just how worried he was. And he was trying to play Harvey’s game of carelessness but God, was it hard.
“Do I not have any agency anymore?”
“Sure you do. You can decide whether or not you come to dinner with me.”
Mike smiled, partly because he’d just been asked to dinner by a very handsome man he was infatuated with and partly because Harvey was practically asking Mike to make him sweat.
“I’ll think about it.”
Harvey’s dots popped up for a second before he realized what Mike was doing.
“You’re cute, but I play coy much better than you.”
And he was definitely profusely blushing at being called cute by Harvey Specter, because that had to be a double entendre.
…
At 7 o’clock sharp, Mike stepped into the car looking the best he’s probably ever looked.
Clad in a dark red Armani suit, a tie that could pass for black but was just a darker red, and actual black shoes, he was confident he could do this. Though his body definitely wasn’t. The tremors had started back in his apartment, but the fidgeting with the gold bracelet was new.
Why was he shaking and fidgeting? He looked nice. He had even rifled through his drawers and found some old makeup that Jenny had left there. He had a coat of black mascara on and the thinnest layer of lip gloss possible, done intentionally to the point where it was probable he had some on, but one wouldn’t be confident enough to actually point it out. He adjusted the bracelet one more time as they pulled up to the restaur–
Oh, that cheeky bastard.
“Have a good night, Mr. Ross.”
“You too, Ray.”
Mike replied as he stepped outside of the car and made his way to Harvey’s condo.
He took one last breath (he was still shaking slightly) and just as he was about to knock on the door, it swung open.
And there he was, as smug as ever, wearing nothing but a button-up shirt ridden with light and dark blue stripes and tan khakis.
And by God, did he look amazing.
His sleeves were rolled up, and Mike hadn’t been aware of having a thing for forearms till now, and the first two buttons of his shirt were temptingly left unbuttoned, and what had Mike done to deserve this?
“You’re beautiful.”
Harvey’s words snapped him out of his stupor, and he retained that he must've misheard him; that was until he actually looked at him. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes raking up and down Mike’s body on repeat, and the tone with which he spoke the compliment was breathless and unguarded. He hadn’t meant to say that, and Mike could tell he certainly hadn’t meant to ogle Mike as much as he was currently doing.
Mike let out an awkward chuckle and was about to ask if he could finally come in, but Harvey spoke first.
“Why are you shaking? Something happen?”
Now, how was he going to get out of this one? Yeah, something did happen, you’re spoiling me rotten with gifts and attention, and my body is too overwhelmed to calm down?
“Cold?”
Harvey’s concern quickly left his face as he registered what it was.
“You’re nervous.”
Mike suddenly felt insecure about it. But before Mike could give in to any doubts in his mind that he shouldn’t be here, Harvey quelled them.
“It’s adorable. Come in.”
Mike let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and tried to act like he wasn’t about to explode.
Adorable? Him?
“So, what’s on the menu tonight, Chef Harvey?”
Mike sat down at the spotless island and shamelessly surveyed the luxuries of Harvey’s place. It was perfect, which felt fitting for a building that was to house Harvey Specter.
“I was gonna make something incredibly extravagant,”
Anxiety brewed in Mike’s stomach.
“but, I remembered who I was going to be dining with.”
Harvey had a small smile on his face as he slid over a bowl with buttered noodles in it.
A gasp from Mike let him know he’d made the right decision.
“You did not!”
“I did. It takes a long time to build a sophisticated palate, and I doubt you’d want to start tonight.”
“Your doubts are correctly placed.”
Mike said as he began to eat and immediately started praising Harvey.
“This is amazing! How did you manage to make buttered noodles taste so good? Special ingredient: love?”
Harvey just shook his head fondly.
Mike spared a glance at Harvey’s plate now that he had taken a seat next to him.
“Is that–”
“Veal.”
A gasp, but not a good one this time.
“Harvey Specter, you are a monster!”
“Don’t you eat steak all the time?”
“That is different and you know it.”
“Whatever you say, pup.”
…
As Harvey got up to put their plates in the sink, Mike followed close behind him.
“I’m totally gonna tell everyone you made me dinner.”
Harvey just scoffed.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Because the simple dish had disarmed him, and the tremors had lessened, he said:
“Am I?”
“Are you what? Lucky or pretty?”
Mike picked the one he wanted to hear Harvey say the most (again).
“Pretty.”
Harvey turned around and successfully closed Mike in, the island cutting into his back as Harvey’s arms were on either side of him. He leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of Mike’s ear as he whispered:
“You are very, very pretty, Mike Ross.”
And when Harvey pulled back and saw a heavy-breathing, doe-eyed (more than usual) Mike with lip gloss on? Well, there was no question about what he’d do next. He leaned in, transitioning his hands from the marble counter to Mike’s waist, and as their lips slowly crashed into each other, Mike’s hands made their way up to Harvey’s shoulders, wrapping around his neck and settling in his hair. Harvey pulled him impossibly closer, and kissing him was everything Mike thought it would be. His lips were ridiculously soft, and he tasted like the whiskey he’d just downed. Harvey hoisted Mike up on top of the counter suddenly, with a yelp, a smile, and a giggle from Mike (the holy trifecta, Harvey decided), all while they refused to part from each other.
When they both finally needed air, the first thing Mike did was laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
Harvey asked breathlessly.
“I got lip gloss all over you.”
Harvey began to laugh with him as he felt his lips, and sure enough, Mike had left a trace.
“I don’t mind.”
Harvey kissed Mike again and started his ministrations on Mike’s neck.
Mike’s hands gripped Harvey’s hair tighter as he stifled a whine.
“People are gonna see that.”
Harvey stopped, if only to look back up at Mike and say,
“I know.”
Mike smiled, and Harvey smiled back.
…
Harvey had offered (insisted) Mike stay the night, telling him Ray had already gone off duty and he couldn’t drive because he was over the legal limit, and Mike, do you know how many bikers are hit at night?
Mike thought about bringing up Uber to dismantle Harvey’s argument, but it didn’t really matter, considering Mike had been hoping he’d offer (insist) the entire night.
Mike borrowed one of Harvey’s old Harvard shirts and some sweatpants, both of which were ill-fitting on him. Nonetheless, he flopped atop of Harvey, who only let out a grunt at the impact.
“You’re warm.”
Harvey’s chuckle vibrated through his chest, and Mike smiled at the feeling.
“That’s probably because you don’t have any meat on you.”
“Can’t it be both?”
Mike looked up at him from where he had his face shoved between his neck and his shoulder and gave his best puppy-dog eyes.
“If I say yes, will you stop looking at me like that?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s no way to negotiate, Mr. Ross.”
Mike had just giggled (Harvey’s new favorite sound) and put his head back down with a defeated and elongated: “Fine.”
…
They settled into a comfortable silence, and Mike could’ve sworn he dozed off for a split second before he heard Harvey whisper:
“Mike?”
“Hmm?”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Get what?”
“The makeup?”
Mike hoped Harvey couldn’t feel his cheeks heating up at the way Harvey asked about it, like he was inquiring about the weather. Like it was no big deal.
Maybe it wasn’t.
“Oh, uh, Jenny left some in my apartment.”
“Jenny? Doesn’t that stuff expire?”
Mike sleepily scoffed.
“Harv, you and I both know that’s just what they say to get you to buy more.”
“You are impossible.”
“Sensible.”
“Stupid.”
“Awesome.”
“Arrogant.”
“Charming.”
“Cute.”
Mike smiled into Harvey’s neck.
“You messed up.”
“Did I? I’m not a liar.”
“So I’m stupid and arrogant, but cute?”
“And he finally figures it out; can you hear that? I think it’s the crowd cheering.”
“I hate you.”
Mike could hear the grin in his words as he said:
“Go back to sleep, doll.”
The pet name, combined with Harvey’s hand running up and down his back, was more than enough to convince him to listen.
…
The next day, they said their goodbyes (possibly punctuated with a kiss), and Mike walk-of-shamed wearing yesterday’s suit into his apartment.
And what was outside his door?
A black box.
Now, Mike was genuinely puzzled.
What could Harvey have gotten him that he hadn’t already?
He shook it around like a kid on Christmas as he opened the door.
He was stumped. It definitely wasn’t more cufflinks, no, it sounded bigger than–
Oh, no.
No, he didn’t.
He opened the box, and there they were: a mascara tube that looked like it belonged to a woman in the Victorian era (Mike presumed that meant it was stupidly expensive but also ridiculously good), and a lip gloss in a sleek, black tube with an applicator that was probably made of clouds.
Behind both was a note.
“Wear these when you want something from me. H.S”
How was he supposed to refuse that?
…
He showed Rachel the makeup the next day, and he winced when she gasped.
“Wow, Mike! You must really like this girl!”
“They’re nice?”
“Oh, they’re more than nice. Imagine the best of the best, and multiply that by 10: this is what you get. You sure you’re not in love with her?”
“I–”
Harvey had chosen this exact moment to stroll by Rachel’s office, and within seconds, he could tell Harvey had realized what was happening and probably knew what Rachel was saying.
He winked at him; Mike smiled and kept his eyes on the carpet, leaving Rachel’s office as she yelled out after him:
“At least tell me her name!”
Harvey had definitely won that one.
…
Mike’s bad day was apparent to everybody in the office; Hell, even Louis asked what was wrong with him.
He hadn’t slept, nor eaten, and when was the last time he’d consumed a liquid that wasn’t coffee?
He didn’t know.
All these factors led to him keeping quite a gloomy disposition throughout the workday.
When he got home, there was a little black box, and Mike smiled for the first time since he’d woken up that morning.
He didn’t even bother guessing as he slowly took the lid off and revealed two gold cufflinks: one engraved with an H, the other with an S. The note behind them read:
“Come to mine, if you want. Love, H.S”
Harvey hadn’t even given Mike the time to unsheathe his sword before he declared victory, and he was right.
The cufflinks were an astonishing move on their own, but combined with the first note signed with a “Love?”
Harvey had blown up the metaphorical battlefield.
Mike didn’t text before he showed up at Harvey’s condo.
…
Mike knocked, and the door opened so fast that Harvey was either waiting right behind it or had run from wherever he was. Not like any of that mattered when he looked at him the way he was, and whispered:
“Come here.”
Mike’s head fell onto his shoulder, and his hands pawed at his dress shirt as Harvey’s arms circled snugly around his waist.
“Thanks for the cufflinks. Not sure where I’m gonna wear them, though.”
Mike’s words were muffled against Harvey’s suit jacket.
“Work?”
Mike laughed.
“Hey Louis, hey Jessica, hey fellow associates, oh these? Yeah, these are just the cufflinks my boss bought me with his initials inscribed on them, thanks for noticing!”
“Don’t be a smartass. I may have… talked to Jessica. About us.”
Mike’s head shot up, and his face was way too close to Harvey’s to focus, but he wouldn’t dare move.
“You did? What did she say?”
“She said as long as I didn’t exert any obvious favoritism, we’ve got the green light.”
“And you think gold cufflinks aren’t ‘obvious favoritism?’”
“I doubt she’ll be looking at your wrists, doll.”
Harvey said as he kissed Mike on the cheek and watched as his face screwed up in a smile.
“Does this mean we’re… official?”
He felt like a teenager, asking “what are we?” but it was clear Harvey wasn’t gonna.
Harvey took one of Mike’s hands in his own and kissed each knuckle.
“If you want to be.”
Mike murmured something like: “I’ll think about it,” but it came out barely audible and shaky as his breath hitched because Harvey fucking Specter was treating his lithe hands like they controlled the sea’s tides.
Harvey just smiled.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, come inside.”
Mike whispered something that sounded an awful lot like: “So bossy,” but Harvey pretended like he didn’t hear it as he led Mike in by the hand.
“You should eat.”
“Sleep first?”
“N–”
Harvey turned and-- Mike was wearing that mascara.
“It was rhetorical advice, you know.”
“I think you just made that up.”
“Shut it.”
Mike just smiled as Harvey brushed past him to get something from the bathroom; then, he got settled on the couch, spread his legs, and patted the space in between them.
Mike grinned, but he was too exhausted to continue his quippy remarks. He settled his back against Harvey’s chest.
Harvey immediately rolled his sleeves up (he had shucked off his jacket on his trip to the bathroom) and started kneading Mike’s upper back.
“Holy shit.”
Mike let his head fall back onto Harvey’s shoulder in bliss as Harvey just chuckled.
When Mike’s breathing began to even out, Harvey gently shook him.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet.”
Mike’s eyes were still closed.
“Your boyfriend wants to go to sleep.”
Harvey grabbed something off the coffee table.
“Boyfriend’s gonna keep his eyes closed unless he wants makeup remover in them.”
Mike cracked an eye open.
“Why do you have makeup remover?”
He asked incredulously.
Harvey laughed at the implication.
“Relax, slick. Came with the mascara.”
Mike just hummed as Harvey began to softly take off his mascara.
“That tickles!”
Mike said through a fit of oncoming giggles.
“No, it doesn’t, you’re just giddy.”
“Like you’d know.”
Harvey started with the other eye.
“You think I’ve never worn mascara before?”
Mike scoffed.
“No?”
Harvey tsked. Mike wasn’t sure he’d actually heard someone do that before.
“Sometimes you need to impress a male client, rookie.”
“A gay male client?”
“You’d be surprised. Okay, all done. You can stop the theatrics.”
Mike lazily turned his head into Harvey’s neck.
“I’m gonna need to see you in mascara very, very soon.”
“Maybe tomorrow, pup.”
Harvey said as he draped a blanket over the two of them and continued rubbing Mike’s back, earning a yawn from Mike, which got a chuckle out of Harvey.
“Go to sleep, pretty boy.”
Mike mumbled out an:
“I’ll think about it.”
He was dead-asleep 30 seconds later in Harvey Specter’s arms.