Chapter Text
hc #1 - harvey doesn't check his phone often unless it's mike. if he hasn't seen it, donna will stop by and let him know that mike texted. harvey pretends not to care/listen, but once he's out of her line of sight, he'll check his phone right after.
(pre-dating)
The buzz of Harvey Specter's phone rattled throughout his pant leg. He sighed, acting like the simple endeavor of hovering his phone over the screen was the hardest job in the world. Not a client. Not Mike. So, I don't care, was his general policy when it came to texts. All communication with people went through Donna, aside from the few people in his life that had his number and used it often.
Want a bagel? I'm getting some for Rachel and a few other associates.
Harvey's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise—he didn't know Mike was close with any of the associates. He propped his legs up, typing back a reply as Donna peeked in through the glass screen.
"Aw. Are you texting your boyfriend? 'Cause you sure look like a giddy teenage girl," she commented, and Harvey just huffed in pretend annoyance.
Not a moment later, Mike strode through the door, passing Harvey his bagel. He frowned. "That was quick, no? You sent the text a minute ago."
Mike shrugged, chewing as he commented, "I already knew what you were going to say."
Donna smirked, shaking her head. Damn her and her all-seeing self, thought Harvey, staring at Mike with an amused smile on his face.
Harvey squinted at the files, foot drumming on the floor as the mental cogs in his mind turned. He was completely, totally focused on this one thing, and that feeling was peace like Harvey had never known. Until the glass door outside of his office opened, and Donna's voice filled the room.
"Hey, your puppy-eyed associate texted, and you haven't replied back. Be careful, or he might run away. Maybe if you just give him a trea—"
"Donna, I get it. Enough with the analogy. Go away," he said sternly, looking back down at his paperwork. He didn't move until she was safely out of his field of vision, and he shot Mike a text back. I'm not doing this because I care, he told himself. Just because I don't want him to get any ideas.
hc #2 - whenever mike has a stressful case/lots of work, he'll sit on the floor gnawing on a pen cap. harvey will come over, sit on the couch, and turn on a movie. mike hasn't realized it, but the background noise helps him think.
(post-dating)
Mike ran his fingers through his hair, the cap of his blue pen sitting in between his teeth. His knee bounced up and down, his opposing foot buzzed, his fingers drummed on the table, and his chest rose and fell. Everything about this man was active and moving, and that fascinated Harvey. He sat down, and Mike hardly even realized the sound of the TV infiltrating the room.
This was Harvey's favorite part. Watching Mike still. His knee quieted, as did his foot, leaving only his chest moving. It seemed that the noise of the television overpowered the noise constantly enveloping Mike's head, despite him not realizing it. Harvey watched Mike slowly begin to move, his back sitting straighter with every revelation that he stumbled upon.
Harvey grinned to himself. He supposed that all of the floating, tumbling ideas in Mike's vast mind had to go somewhere eventually. He liked to think of himself as the initiator of that process. Despite how smart Mike was, he couldn't realize things like this helped him think, and Harvey had no intention of telling him—though he'd never admit it to himself, he loved being the solution to Mike's constant, buzzing head.
Eventually, Mike capped the pen once more and closed the file. He tossed it onto the coffee table, sidling up besides Harvey. His head fit right in the crook of Harvey's neck—his favorite spot—and Harvey's fingers found themselves entwined in Mike's hair. "Find our smoking gun?" he asked, knowing the answer before it left Mike's mouth.
"You know it," he murmured, his body loosening. He wasn't sure what it was—the satisfaction of finishing his case, Harvey's fingers running through his hair, Harvey's comfortable, warm torso, or the soft sound of the television. Some combination of the four set Mike to sleep in an instant. Harvey laughed into Mike's hair, his eyes closing softly.
The perfect man was cozied up beside Harvey, only the moon and stars keeping him company. He let that tiny, vulnerable side of him slip, whispering, "Good job, kid," into the night.
hc #3 - if they're in a fight, mike will walk up to him, shove his hands in his pockets, and just look at harvey. harvey'll huff, act annoyed, but loosen up immediately. one glance from those bottom yearning eyes and harvey is DONE for and i'll die on that hill.
(pre-dating)
"Harvey. This is ridiculous. Donna is right. You can't just avoid Louis forever. You have to figure out how to get things done as a team, because you know Jessica won't be around forever just as much as I do. He's trying to wave the white flag, and you're ripping it to shreds!" shouted Mike, his angered voice reverberating around Harvey's glass office.
Harvey scoffed. "Bullshit. When has Louis ever waved the white flag at anyone? He's going to use this to get back at me, or I'm going to owe him one, or he's gonna screw this case up like he always does. There's no middle ground with him."
"If you keep having that mindset, then you're never going to get anywhere! And then you two will keep fighting each other until the dawn of time. This is stupid, Harvey."
Somewhere between the start and the end of that sentence, Mike had gotten a few steps closer to Harvey. Right where Harvey could see into Mike's blue eyes, his hands angrily shoved into the pockets of his pants. He exhaled with force, grumbling, "Harvey."
Harvey's Adam's apple bobbed visibly, and he felt the anger drain right out of him. God. It's those damn eyes that get me every time. Donna's not exaggerating when she says that he's got puppy-dog eyes, he thought in defeat. "Mike."
"You should make up with Louis."
"Hm."
"Harvey."
It took everything Harvey had right then and there not to put his hand on the nape of Mike's neck and draw him in closer, in the way that he's always wanted to. "Fine. Just get out of my office," Harvey complained, and the corners of Mike's mouth twisted upward.
"Goodnight, Harvey," he called as he left.
hc #4 - harvey has discovered that, if mike is anxious, all he has to do is scratch mike's scalp or run his fingers through mike's hair to get him to calm down.
("it's complicated" stage)
"Mike." Mike paced around the couch, gnawing on his thumbnail.
"I've got court tomorrow, Harvey, and I haven't found anything on Slentz. I don't know what I'm going to do, or what case I'm going to argue, and I won't have you there, and—"
"Mike."
Mike looked up now, meeting Harvey's steely gaze. He reluctantly shoved his hands into his pockets, his posture slouched with the look of I-know-I'm-about-to-get-lectured-because-I-worry-too-much.
"Come here," said Harvey, softer this time. Mike hesitated for a beat, taking a few steps forward. Harvey dragged him onto the couch, folding his legs over as Mike got comfortable. Harvey's fingers ran through Mike's hair, giving a satisfying scratch to Mike's scalp. The tension left Mike's body almost immediately, and he practically melted into the couch because of the gesture. Harvey smirked, but didn't stop until Mike was halfway asleep. Harvey left Mike on his couch, knowing he'd be gone by morning but happy nonetheless.
hc #5 - the first time donna ever saw them together, harvey wasn't answering any of his calls, so she came over to go check on him. she thought he was sleeping next to scottie before mike said, "donna?" in a drowsy voice. he still thinks he imagined her there to this day."
(post-dating)
"Hey, Rach," Donna said, cornering Rachel in the restroom. Rachel looked up, drying her hands and giving Donna a little smile.
"What's up?"
"This is going to sound silly, but Harvey's not answering any of his texts or calls, and Jessica needs him here now. I can't find Mike, either, and it's been ten minutes. Do you think I should go to his apartment, or am I losing my Donna touch?"
Rachel pondered the question, leaning against the bathroom sinks. "I don't think it's crazy to say that you should go check up on him. I mean, it's Harvey. Only his friends and his most exclusive clients have his number. Maybe you'd better go see."
Donna gave Rachel a side-embrace, thanking her. "Even you need a little help making decisions sometimes," Rachel teased, tossing her friend one last smile before Donna left.
"Harvey?" Donna called, knocking softly on his expensive ebony door. As she expected, no answer came. She inserted her key, carefully opening the door to an empty, pitch-black apartment. It shut behind her with a near-silent tap, and she slipped out of her heels, padding across the floor to Harvey's bedroom.
She looked through the door, filled with relief when Harvey's silhouette lay resting. Her brows furrowed, and she squinted closer. "Scottie?" she said, just loud enough for her to hear. She tutted softly—he slept in past firm hours for Scottie? It was unusual for him, that was for sure, but she'd give him grief about it later.
She almost left, but not before she heard a drowsy, "Donna?" from a voice she'd recognize anywhere. She froze, reeling back and making a slow, cinematic turn on the point of her heel. She crept back in before she could think further, peering into the room. Her eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness now, and she knew she wasn't mistaken.
Holy shit. Mike Ross is in Harvey's bed, she thought, mouth halfway parted. "Go back to sleep, Mike," she whispered, practically running out of there. She had a lot to tell Rachel about, that was for sure.