Work Text:
Harvey was a big fan of food. He liked cooking, when he could be bothered, liked spending an evening working his way through a complex recipe and spending hours getting it right, only to demolish the result in a matter of a few minutes.
He liked eating out too, dressing to the nines and impressing someone pretty with his taste in liquor and fine wines. He liked the aftermath too, and a morning blow job to wake him up the following day was usually a nice bonus.
His favourite way to eat, though, was ordering in. He liked that with a few taps of his fingers, he could order any type of food he wanted. Over the past decade of living in the heart of Manhattan, he'd gone through everything he could find. His favourite thing at the moment was a little Malay restaurant a few streets over. Tonight though, he just needed grease. He needed cheese and carbs and five kinds of low quality meat products. With a side order of onion rings.
He pulled on a hoody and sank into his couch with a long groan.
The day had been brutal, going ten rounds in court with some high and mighty jackass in defence of another high and mighty jackass.
He needed a stiff drink, too much pizza and a few episodes of classic Star Trek. The worse the acting, the better.
He'd come straight out of the courthouse and headed home, Jessica be damned. He technically had to do some write up and filing for the case before he could close it for good, but that could wait til tomorrow. He'd sent Jessica a text along those lines before getting Ray to drop him home, and sending him off for an early finish himself. He'd done an hour in the gym, working out the last of his frustration before calling it quits for the day and ordering in.
Of course, when he'd put on his most comfortable clothes, he hadn't bargained on having to open his door to one of the most attractive delivery guys he'd seen. Ever.
Instead, he found himself standing in some ratty, sawn-off sweat pants and an old Harvard hoody. The delivery guy was grinning like he knew just how off-guard he'd caught him. He held up the pizza and side, wiggling it a little.
“Large meat?” His grin, if possible, grew. Harvey rolled his eyes.
“Garlic dip?” Harvey held out the notes, refusing to rise to the bait. The guy dug a couple of pots out of his bag, setting them on top of the the pizza box. He started to dig out change, but Harvey waved him off. “Keep it. Buy yourself some better puns with it.”
“Gotta keep it interesting somehow, right?” Pizza guy grinned again and shot off a salute before turning and heading back to the lift. Harvey absolutely did not watch him walk away.
–
A couple of months later, Harvey was taking a rare weekend off. He'd manage to catch some kind of flu from somewhere and had holed himself up in his bedroom. He counted himself lucky that he hadn't developed too much of a temperature, but his head felt like it was in a vice and he seemed to cough after every other breath, which had kept him up for half the night until he'd just passed out.
Now he was feeling sorry for himself, and on the odd occasion that he did that, he ordered in junk food. This time, it was pizza. In his current state, he would easily make it last for a few meals. That, and some chicken nuggets. His dad used bring them home for him when he was little, letting him sit in front of the TV in his pajamas whilst he ate. It was one of his better childhood memories.
When his intercom sounded, he dragged himself out of bed, comforter around his shoulders and he shuffled through his condo to the door. As soon as he opened it, he groaned, thumping his head against the door frame. Of course.
“You don't look so hot today.” The attractive guy from his last pizza order was standing there, box in hand and a concerned frown on his face. “I mean, you're hot, you know, but you do not look good.”
“I'm ill, asshole.” Harvey glared, shooting him a sideways look.
“You got anyone looking after you?” Harvey rolled his eyes and shook his head as the guy pressed his lips together in disapproval. “Here.”
He proffered the food, and Harvey took it, working his arms out of the comforter to hand over the folded money. He watched as the guy pulled out a half gone pack of cough sweets, dropping them onto the pizza box before taking the money.
“How do you know if I have a cough or not?” Harvey said, narrowing his eyes a little.
“It's the thought that counts, right?” And really, that was the thing. For all Harvey was living the life of his dreams, he didn't have a lot of people around him who would help out at times like these. He didn't have people who he'd want to know he was even capable of falling ill. He shook his head again and the guy offered him his change.
“Keep it. Get yourself a haircut or something.” Harvey gestured to the wild mop of hair currently sticking out at all angles.
“It's the bike helmet. Safety first.” He smiled then, and Harvey felt himself perk up, just a little.
“Thanks for the food.” He gestured with the pizza box absently.
“No worries. Try not to die, okay?” The guy waited for Harvey to roll his eyes again and nod before shooting a wave and shuffling back down the corridor. Harvey closed the door with a sigh and dragged himself back to his bed to die in peace.
–
The first thing Harvey registered when he woke up was the half eaten pizza in the box next to him, completely cold and not even remotely appealing. He wrinkled his nose and flipped the lid closed, shoving the box off the bed onto the floor. He turned over, burrowing back into the comforter.
Then something buzzed. Loudly.
He realised, belatedly, that it was what had woken him up in the first place. He glared at the phone on his side table for a moment, daring it to ring again, but the screen stayed dark and a silent. The clock behind it told him he'd managed to sleep through most of the day. He was just about to dive back under the covers when he heard the buzzing again and realised it was his front door.
He glared at his bedroom door for a moment, listening as the buzzing got more and more insistent until he threw back the covers in blurry frustration and staggered to his feet. He half stumbled, half shuffled his way to the front door, fingers clumsy on the lock as he leaned in to check the view hole. He pulled the door open before he could rationalize that he really probably shouldn't have.
“So you are alive.” Hot Pizza Guy – and Harvey really should make an effort to find out his name at some point – was standing there, a couple of carrier bags hanging at his side.
“I didn't order pizza.” Harvey said. He frowned at the guy, who raised his eyebrows in an annoyingly pitying expression.
“I know, I brought you proper food.” He held up the bags. “There's this deli down the road from my building that makes the most awesome matzo-ball soup. And bagels.”
“That's kinda creepy, kid.” Harvey leaned back a bit. Hot Pizza Guy had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “I should call security on you.”
“I know, I know, sorry.” He looked a little panicked at that and Harvey had to smile a little, “it's just you looked really bad yesterday and I got the feeling that you're not the kind of guy to ask for help-”
“Good instincts,” Harvey chipped in.
“-so I thought I'd assuage my own guilt and force homemade food on you that was made by a very terrifying old lady.” His expression cleared a little at that and he held out the bags. After a long moment, Harvey took them, a little reluctantly.
“What's your name?” He asked, the guy looking a little surprised. “Come on, I know you know mine from my order forms. Least I can do is ask yours.”
“I'm Mike. Ross.”
“Okay, Mike Ross. Thanks for the food. How much do I owe you?” He moved to go find his wallet, but Mike waved him off.
“It's on me.” Harvey narrowed his eyes at him a little and the kid rolled his eyes. “Just don't die. I like the ride over here, I want you to keep ordering pizza.”
“I'll do my best.” Harvey bit back a smile as the kid grinned. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome, I hope you feel better.” He shot him a genuine smile and turned his back. Harvey watched him for a few steps, but realised belatedly how awkward it was. He closed the door with a sigh and a mental kick in the ass, and made his way back to the kitchen.
He pulled a big tub of soup from the bag and cracked the lid open. It smelt amazing. The other things were a paper bag of bagels, a couple of styrofoam trays filled with salt beef and a big pot of mustard. He closed his eyes briefly, doing his best to get a lungful of the warm, fresh flavour. He was definitely going to look forward to those at some point. For now, he put them away and dug out a spoon.
He took the soup to the couch and flicked on the TV, winding a blanket up around himself to ward the edge off the chill that he was fairly sure didn’t actually exist. With the absent burbling of some show in the background, he cracked the lid off the soup and tested it. It was good. He let his mind drift a little, thinking over the idea of a virtual stranger turning up at his door to make sure he was okay.
It was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him since he was a child, and each mouthful of soup made him feel more and more human again – and less like death warmed over.
–
Harvey liked his life. He liked his condo, he liked his suits, he liked his job, and he was god-damn good at it. He'd worked hard for what he had, and that's how he liked it.
He liked the constant pressure to perform, the late nights, the continual need for mental agility both inside and outside of meetings with clients. He was at the top of his game, but the game was still expanding. His favourite part of the unending stream of pretty faces that were more than willing to keep him company on any given evening.
He didn’t often stop to think on the fact that he didn’t really have anyone who knew the person he was outside of all that. For the most part, he liked it that way - it kept him strong and kept his opponents on the back foot. Every now and then, he’d stop for a moment to wonder what it would’ve been like if he’d settled for something less.
A couple of times a month though, he'd indulge in a night in. It was a chance to lower the energy for a few hours, take a bit of respite from having to be on peak form. For years, it had also been an opportunity to just be on his own.
The last few times though, he found himself with a menu in hand, wondering whether or not Mike would be working if he called the pizza place. Almost on principle, he’d refused to order again until he kicked the annoying little voice in his head that kind of wanted to see Mike again. He’d been trying new places and different cuisines, putting the pizza menu in the back of the drawer for now.
But his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and after he’d spent five long minutes contemplating the folded up flyer, he finally pulled it closer and dialled the number. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just asked for Mike in person.
“The delivery guy?” The voice on the phone asked.
“Yeah. He working tonight?” Harvey beat his fingers in an absent rhythm on the counter beside him.
“I think so. Hang on.” Whoever it was on the other end had put the phone down and Harvey listened to the general noise and bustle of the kitchen on the other end for a few long minutes.
“H- uh, Mr. Specter?” It was the kid.
“You can call me 'Harvey', I won't sue for invasion of privacy.”
“Okay, sure, that makes me feel loads better. What can I do for you this evening?” Harvey glanced around the condo briefly, not entirely convinced this wasn't the worst idea ever. He bit it down and continued before he could second guess himself.
“What time do you finish work tonight?”
“I don't know, hold on a second?” Harvey rolled his eyes, listening to some poorly muffled yelling going on. There was an almost excruciating pause and, had Harvey been a lesser man, he would've succumbed to the slow creep of embarrassment he could feel crawling up his neck. “I can clock out by ten.”
“Okay, I want a large vegetable pizza, add whatever you want and bring it round when you get off.”
“Do I have a choice in this?” The kid sounded amused at least. It made the momentary nervousness disappear.
“Sure, but I've just given you a free meal ticket, and all you have to do is sit through an episode or two of Battlestar Galactica.” He moved around the kitchen, starting to pull out what he needed to put on a pot of coffee whilst he waited.
“That sounds like an offer I can't refuse.” Again, amusement, which boded well at least. Harvey still wasn't entirely sure why he was inviting the delivery guy into his home for dinner, other than out of curiosity. “I'll see you later on then, I guess?”
“That would be the general idea.” Harvey smiled a little at the dry snort of laughter as the kid signed off and hung up the phone.
He had a couple of hours to kill before Mike would would get there. He had the usual chores to do and paperwork to finish, but found himself with time to spare, aimlessly flicking through TV channels. He wasn't used to this kind of tension, he hadn't really felt it for years. His life revolved around indulgent hedonism for the most part, and he liked it. He liked rubbing shoulders with the best the city had to offer, and he liked the position of power he held in the circles he moved in.
Yet here he was, wanting to eat cheap take-out with the delivery guy because he'd thought to bring him food when he was ill. It was such a ridiculous situation, that he almost wanted to laugh. But instead he debated whether or not it was just a little sad.
The sound of the doorbell jarred him out of his thoughts. As he opened the door, the kid handed over two pizza boxes. “I paid before I left so my manager can settle the books tonight. I figured it'd be fun to guilt money out of you as an icebreaker.”
“That assumes that I wouldn't voluntarily hand over the money,” he pulled the notes out of his pocket and Mike took them with a nod, “or that I have any sense of guilt to be played on.”
“The zipcode and concierge downstairs are what makes it fun.” He grinned and let Harvey lead him through into the main room, following his lead as he went straight to the couch with the food.
“What can I say? I'm an asshole.” He raised an eyebrow and turned to the pizzas, pulling his on front of him and flipping the lid open.
“Well, at least you're honest about it.” He sat down next to him with a groan and sagged into the cushions for a moment. “I think this might have been a stroke of genius though. This couch is more comfortable than my bed.”
“I reserve the right to kick you if you fall asleep.” Harvey folded a slice in half, doing his best not to pay too much attention to the way the kid looked over and grinned at him.
He didn't focus too much on the TV that evening, more interested in trying to learn what he could about Mike without being too obvious. He wasn’t sure how successful he was being with that, but Mike had the good grace to feign ignorance if he’d noticed anything. Harvey was gratified though, at the end of the night, when Mike pulled out a pencil from his jacket and scrawled a number across the back of the receipt.
“Next time you want to hang out, you don't need to go through my boss.” He smiled a little at that, and Harvey nodded, not acknowledging the way his chest tightened just a little.
–
Harvey didn't really know what he expected to happen after inviting Mike for dinner. A best case scenario might have been a casual acquaintance to contact every once in a while. What he got was someone who fast became a very unlikely friend.
It had started with Mike showing up the following Saturday evening with pizza again, and some cheesecake that had turned out to be one of the best things Harvey had eaten in a very long time. Harvey had sent him a text to thank him for leaving the leftovers a few nights later after a long day and Mike had taken that as an invitation.
Over the past few months, Mike had taken to coming round – invited or not – more or less every week. Each time, they’d ordered something different, thrown on a dated action movie, and spent the evening eating and complaining loudly about the lazy acting and poor production value. Mike was good company. He was sharp, with lightning-quick wit and a dry sense of humour. He gave Harvey a run for his money, which was maybe the most attractive part.
But then the holiday season had rolled around and Harvey saw his books filling up and his desk getting more a more full of case files. He traded a handful of texts with Mike when he could, but free evenings had more or less disappeared.
It was fine, it was part of the job. He slotted fancy parties and cocktail evenings around closing multi-million dollar deals and snatching victories from the weak and useless jaws that should've been defeat if anyone in this town had the balls to really get in the ring with him.
Before he knew it, Christmas was round the corner, then the next week, two days time, tomorrow, here, and he hadn't bothered to do anything for it. He'd sent some gifts to his brother and nieces, but other than that, the office was blissfully quiet and he was going to hit his quota for the end of the next quarter without even trying.
Only, at about nine in the evening, his cell buzzed a text at him, asking for his address. He replied without really thinking, and was startled, an hour later, to hear a knock at the glass door to his office.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Harvey frowned, glancing out at the darkened corridor as the automated lights started to turn off. Mike was propped against the door frame, a bag of takeout pointedly swinging from his hand.
“Are you seriously working on Christmas?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his other hand into his jacket pocket and walking into the room.
“I happen to like my job.” Harvey finished off the paragraph he was writing before saving and shutting the lid of his laptop. He took his time though, before leaning back in his chair, watching Mike look around his office.
“Hey, don't let me harsh your holiday buzz.” He was working his way across the record collection, fingers hovering along the spines but not touching. “I figured you'd be out on the town, wining and dining a Victoria’s Secret model or something.”
“They're way too skinny. The photos are lying.” Harvey got up and walked over to him, pulling out an Ella Fitzgerald record. He took his time setting it, pulling it from the sleeve, wiping it down and carefully laying it down, dropping the needle gently. Mike was being unusually quiet behind him. He looked over his shoulder.
“What? Can't blame a guy for looking.” Mike shrugged, but Harvey caught the hint of a flush at the collar of his t-shirt, and the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He'd be lying if he said this was the first time Mike had caught his attention. He'd started out as an intrigue, but he'd grown into something more of a comfort.
“And?” Harvey turned properly then, hand in pockets as Ella crooned in the background. Mike hadn't seen him in anything smarter than jeans before this. His jacket and tie were slung over the back of his desk chair, shirt sleeves rolled up.
“Well, they do say 'get you a guy who can do both',” Mike shrugged.
“Do they?” Harvey closed the distance between them by a few steps, knowing exactly how predatory he looked. Mike could take it. “And you think you've 'got' me?”
Mike narrowed his eyes for a moment, not replying immediately. He tilted his head to one side a little, maybe weighing up his options, or thinking about possible outcomes, but Harvey could see his mind methodically churning through the situation. He was a lot smarter than he let on.
Harvey closed the gap further, crowding Mike against the record shelving behind him just slightly. He fixed his eyes on Mike's, watching him calculate, ignoring the anxiety in his gut that warned him he might be making a mistake. The silence hung between them, but it wasn't heavy. He saw Mike come to some form of conclusion.
“Don't I?” He all but grinned, and Harvey leaned in, kissing him once, slowly, before pulling back a little.
Mike wasted no time and chasing him back, pulling him straight into another kiss. It was a whole hell of a lot more charged, but it was still soft, still good. It still felt right. He felt Mike's hand curl into the front of his shirt, pulling him close, and Harvey slid a hand round behind his neck.
At the point where it could have turned feral and lead to something fast and dirty, he broke away, just a little. His cheeks were hot, and his heart was racing. Mike uncurled his fingers, but kept his palms pressed against his sides and keeping him in place.
“Why did you come here tonight?” Harvey asked, throat dry and voice a little rough for all sorts of reasons.
“I had a feeling you'd be on your own tonight. Figured it was good a reason as ever to confess.” Mike shrugged a little, but smiled. Harvey leaned in to draw another firm kiss from him.
“That's the cheesiest thing I've heard in a while.” Harvey rolled his eyes and Mike huffed a laugh.
“Wait til I tell you what I brought for dinner.” He grinned and Harvey resisted the urge to cuff him round the head, letting himself be pulled over to the couch and presented with pizza and chilli fries and another of those amazing cheesecakes.
They ate in a contented silence, swapping trays of food and trading slices until just scraps were left scattered across the coffee table. It was a happy mess, and one of the best Christmas dinners Harvey’d had since his childhood. It wasn't fancy or special, but it was with exceptional company, and Harvey knew he was happy.
When Mike reached for the box with the cheesecake, Harvey grabbed his wrist loosely, looking over at him.
“Why don't we save that for breakfast?” He said gently, watching Mike's expression change and soften. It held for a moment before pulling his hand back and turning to him. He had Harvey pushed back against the cushions, kissing him breathless for several long, blissful moment before pulling back.
“I think that's a great idea.”
Harvey smiled, watching as Mike tidied up after them whilst he called for a taxi to meet them out front. He set Ella safely back on the shelf and powered down his computer, and then he let Mike drag him out of the room and out of the building.
The cheesecake didn't make it to breakfast, so instead Harvey cooked, and they ate scrambled egg on toast in bed, watching the end of a Star Trek episode they'd both seen too many times. It was pretty much the best present Harvey could've asked for.