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Mike lets out a deep sigh.
The mirror in Harvey’s sprawling, minimalist bathroom is currently reflecting a man waging a war against an innocent bowtie.
He squints at himself, wrapping and knotting the black material carefully once, twice…
No such luck.
“Mike?” Harvey appears in the doorway, already fully dressed in his custom-tailored tuxedo.
Of course he looks like he’s stepped out of the pages of a god damn Tom Ford campaign.
Mike sighs again, turning around. “I’m defeated.”
“Your bowtie skills are questionable.”
“It’s a stupid piece of fabric.”
“It’s a requirement for this fancy charity event.” Harvey chuckles. He gestures Mike closer, backing into the bedroom. “Come here.”
Mike obeys.
Harvey reaches up, his fingers deftly taking hold of the black material around Mike’s neck and tying it correctly. As always, there is an easy, practised intimacy to his movements. “There.”
“Fine, you win. You’re better at tying silk than I am.”
“Add it to the list,” Harvey says, infuriatingly smug. He slides a hand up and cups Mike’s chin, stroking his cheek. “You good?”
“I’m good, I’m ready.” Mike nods, straightening his tuxedo jacket. “Do I pass the Harvey Specter plus-one check?”
Harvey studies him. “You better turn, and I’ll tell you.”
“Oh my god.” Mike laughs, but obeys. Of course. He spins around in a dramatic 180, hands planted on his hips.
Harvey is smirking now. “I think you pass.”
“Think?”
Harvey reaches out, his hand resting on Mike’s slim waist. “Alright, you do pass. Cinderella shall go to the ball.”
“I call shotgun in the pumpkin.” Mike grins. He reaches out and unnecessarily smoothes Harvey’s already-pristine jacket. “You scrub up pretty well yourself, you know.”
“You just noticed after what, a year?” Harvey quips, adjusting his cufflinks. “Come on, Ray will be here in a second.”
Mike nods, pocketing his cellphone. He pauses by the door, stepping into his nicest pair of shoes that he dug out of Harvey’s closet earlier. “So you gotta make a donation at this event?”
“It’s charity.” Harvey appears, pocketing his chequebook. “So, yes, Mike.”
“But in return we get free champagne and a buffet. And to rub shoulders with anyone in NYC with over five mill in the bank.” Mike shrugs. He pauses. “Not including me. My savings are a little more meagre.”
Harvey smirks. “Oh, you have savings? News to me.”
He opens the door and they head downstairs to where Ray is waiting, the car running at the curbside.
“Hi, Ray.” Mike smiles.
“Looking fancy, Mr Ross, Mr Specter.” Ray says, nodding approvingly.
“You gotta look the part while they take all your god damn money.” Harvey says dryly.
Once they’re settled in the back, he reaches out his hand and rests it on Mike’s thigh, squeezing lightly. Mike glances down, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“What?” Harvey studies him.
“Nothing. Already enjoying the perks of being your plus one.”
“It’s been, what, eight months?”
“Yeah.” Mike laughs. “And I’m still getting used to it.”
He turns and looks out the window. Outside, the streets of New York glide past them and they slowly edge through the evening traffic until they arrive at the venue – a huge hotel downtown.
“Have a good evening, gentlemen.” Ray says, tipping his head.
“Thanks, Ray.” Mike smiles. He steps out onto the pavement, straightening his suit jacket. The grand hotel entrance is lit up, all warm lights and a red carpet.
They head up some steps, pausing at the door.
”Harvey Specter.” Harvey says lightly to the official-looking person with a clipboard. He keeps a hand resting lightly between Mike’s shoulder blades.
They are granted entry, a free glass of champagne appearing instantly in their hands.
“Oh yeah, the good stuff.” Mike says, taking a sip and nodding. “Trying to get you tipsy early on, see if you’ll flaunt your chequebook.”
Harvey snorts lightly. “Exactly.”
They wander through the venue, which has been elegantly decorated. It’s a busy crowd, people drinking, eating, laughing.
“Uh, we’re checking out the buffet soon, by the way.” Mike says, peering openly at someone’s plate as they walk by.
Harvey gives him a look. “Try to contain yourself; we’re here to make a good impression.”
“No, you are.” Mike grins, sipping his champagne. “No one really knows me, except as your hot plus one.”
“Well, you do have your uses.”
“Harvey!” They both turn in unison as an older man appears through the crowds.
He’s dressed in a very elegant, dark green suede suit, a cream silk pocket square tucked in his breast pocket. His hair is silver and swept back, and he has the unmistakable air of old-school money about him.
“Jensen.” Harvey smiles, shaking his hand warmly. “Looking dapper as ever. And not a day over fifty-five.”
“Oh, Harvey, you always did know the right thing to say to people.” Jensen smiles, his eyes locking onto Mike. “Jensen Royce. This must be—”
“Mike.” Mike interrupts him quickly, sparing them both the brain scramble to land on the correct word. “Mike Ross. Good to meet you.”
“Jensen is an old client of mine turned friend.” Harvey says, his hand once again moving up to Mike’s back, casual yet possessive.
“We bonded over our love of fine whisky.” Jensen says knowingly. “So, you’re the plus one, Mike?”
“Looks that way.” Mike smiles.
Jensen lets out a low chuckle, his eyes flicking to Harvey. “You’ve done well for yourself, Harvey.”
Harvey smiles. “Because I’m six feet two, and the city’s best closer. Or because Mike is ten years my junior?”
“Eleven.” Mike mutters.
“Ten.”
Mike opens his mouth. Closes it.
Jensen looks amused. “He’s got wit, this one; he keeps you on your toes, huh?”
“Jensen, you have no idea,” Harvey says dryly. “Since the first god damn moment I laid eyes on him.”
Mike laughs, cheeks flushing. Harvey and Jensen fall into a conversation then about old clients, whisky, baseball, and Mike chips in where appropriate, finishing up the rest of his champagne in the meantime.
Eventually, Jensen smiles. “Well, enjoy your night, boys. There’s a very fine bottle of single malt up for auction later, Harvey and I intend to outbid you.”
“Of course, you can try,” Harvey smirks.
Jensen clasps Mike on the shoulder. “Mike, it was a pleasure. Try and keep the big guy humble.”
“I’ll try. It’s a battle,” Mike laughs.
Harvey side-eyes him, mouth twitching.
Jensen chuckles and melts back into the crowd, silver hair catching the light from the chandelier above.
Harvey turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “A battle?”
“You said I have my uses,” Mike shrugs. He side-steps and grabs a fresh champagne from a passing waiter, just about managing to stop the liquid from slopping over the edge of the glass. “Oh my god, why do they move so fast?” He pauses before smiling congenially. “Can we check out the buffet now?”
Harvey studies him for a second, mouth threatening a smile. “Anything to stop you from drooling over people’s plates.”
They weave through the crowds to the other side of the room where – sure enough – a huge buffet had been laid out.
“Crab sticks? Woah. Fancy.” Mike grabs a plate and pauses. “I didn’t eat lunch in preparation for this.”
Harvey frowns. “Excuse me?”
“I skipped lunch so I’d be hungry,” Mike shrugs, beginning to add to his plate. “Y’know, get the full experience.”
Harvey shakes his head but takes a plate of his own and starts adding food to it, his portion size considerably more reserved. They wander back and sit down at a large table, Mike tucking in instantly.
“Easy, Mikey, they’ll think I don’t feed you at home,” Harvey says dryly.
Mike laughs, making light work of a second tuna roll. “It’ll go in the trash if no one eats it, you know it will.” He relaxes back in his chair, glancing around the busy room. “Jensen seemed like a cool guy.”
Harvey nods. “He is.”
“He wasn’t… you know.” Mike gestures vaguely. “An older guy like him, I thought he might be a bit weirded out by me…. and you. Being a thing.”
“A thing.” Harvey looks amused.
“You know what I mean.” Mike rolls his eyes. “I thought he was gonna ask you what hot supermodel you were dating.”
Harvey shrugs. “He’s an intelligent guy, anyone with eyes can interpret body language between two people.”
Mike nods slowly. He smiles. “I like it when you get all boyfriend Harvey on me. All possessive.”
“I do not get possessive.”
“Uh, you nearly fought a guy in the bar who tried to ask me on a date a few weeks ago.”
“I was just letting him know the situation,” Harvey says in a totally unbothered tone. He eats a crab stick. “No one messes with what’s mine.”
Mike laughs a little breathlessly at the words, glancing around quickly before hooking his foot around Harvey’s ankle.
They eat and talk for a while longer before finishing their food and wandering through the busy room. Sure enough, people that Harvey knows start appearing from every direction and Mike finds himself being introduced a number of times to old clients, old coworkers, people from the car club, a guy Harvey went to Harvard with…
He smiles, shakes hands, and lets Harvey lead the conversation.
By this time the champagne is definitely starting to slosh through Mike’s veins and he just can’t help himself. He leans into Harvey’s space a little more, tucks himself closer when they’re walking through busy crowds.
Harvey, of course, accommodates him every time. A hand on his lower back, his waist, the back of his neck.
Eventually they regroup and find a quiet space by the bar, Harvey ordering them a whisky each.
“That was a lot,” Mike says, rolling his shoulders. “Like, socialising on steroids.”
“I needed a break from talking about myself.” Harvey agrees, accepting their drink with a polite nod.
“Wow, growth.”
“Don’t push it.”
Mike grins, taking his whisky and sipping it. The burning spreads down his throat, turning to warmth in his chest, and he sighs. “That’s good.”
His eyes track around the room again. “Are you really going to outbid Jensen for a bottle of whisky?”
“Sure am.”
“Harvey, he’s an old dude, you should let him win.”
Harvey snorts. “Like hell.”
Mike laughs. “You’re such a poor loser, you know that?”
“I would be, if I ever lost.” Harvey says. “Come on.”
Mike groans. “Now what? More socialising?” He downs his whisky with a shudder. “Ugh.”
“It’s called networking.” Harvey straightens his jacket before turning to Mike. “Come here.”
Mike steps up obediently and Harvey smooths down his collar, fixing something with his bowtie. Their eyes meet and Mike smiles. “Do I still pass the plus one check? Do I look hot?”
Harvey smirks. “Sure, baby, you look hot.”
Mike nearly chokes, his face flushing. “Shut up, oh my god, you can’t just call me that in public.” He pushes feebly at Harvey’s chest.
“I forgot how easy you are for a pet name.” Harvey teases. “Now, come on, a little more networking and then the desserts will be out and you can soak up some of that alcohol.”
“No, I feel great.” Mike says, a familiar buzz humming through his veins. “I wanna get shown off more as your controversially young boyfriend.”
“I think the young part is the least controversial thing.” Harvey says, sliding his hand up to the back of Mike’s neck.
For a second they unconsciously lean into each other, the move a longtime prerequisite for a kiss. Mike laughs, studying Harvey’s brown eyes. “Save that thought for later.”
“I intend to.” Harvey murmurs. He slides an arm round Mike’s shoulders properly now and leads them across the room, Mike grabbing them another glass of champagne on the way.vThey drink and mingle through the crowds more before the bidding finally begins, and they sit down towards the back of the floor.
At the front, an auctioneer is standing in a sequinned gown. In front of her is a wooden podium with a gavel.
Mike snorts. “Oh my god. Don’t we get enough of this every day in court?”
“Hey, they take this seriously,” Harvey says, relaxing back in his chair, looking completely at ease.
The auction begins and, as Mike expected, the items up for grabs aren’t your usual bottle of wine, or Whole Foods voucher. There’s a weekend retreat at a swanky property in The Hamptons. A gift basket of ridiculously overpriced food and wine. The latest iPhone.
Harvey looks amused beside him, sipping his drink.
“These people are nuts,” Mike mutters as people start shouting out bids for a Louis Vuitton purse. “Donna should be here.”
He tucks himself into Harvey’s side as much as he dares, drawn to the warmth of the older man. Harvey lifts a casual arm along the back of his chair.
“You alright? Tipsy?” he murmurs.
Mike laughs, because yeah, he is. He can feel the alcohol swimming through his veins, making him feel light and buzzy.
“Uh, a little,” he confirms, tilting his head up. “I like these free, fancy events.”
“Free to you. Some of us have to offer up a generous donation.”
“Like your checking account will notice,” Mike says. “Speaking of which—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”
“It involves money,” Harvey gives him a look. He turns, pressing the lightest kiss to Mike’s temple. “You’re warm.”
Mike pouts. “Can we go on vacation soon? Or can you outbid everyone for that weekend in The Hamptons?”
“Sure,” Harvey says. He pauses. “But I’m not bidding on that. I’ll find us a Harvey Specter approved place.”
Mike blinks in surprise. “Well, that was easier than I anticipated.”
“Maybe I’m in a good mood,” Harvey says.
“Wow. Who are you and what have you done with my hard-ass boyfriend?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late. I’m writing it down, mentally.” Mike taps his temple.
“Of course you are, smart boy,” Harvey murmurs, brushing his fingers against the back of Mike’s neck.
Mike smiles, leaning into the touch. “You’re in a chipper mood, Mr Specter.”
“Charity makes my heart glow,” Harvey quips back in a deadpan tone.
Mike laughs a little too loudly, immediately ducking his head as people turn to look. Harvey smirks. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” Mike says immediately. “Just enjoying the ambience, you know, the vibes.”
On the small stage, the auctioneer is banging the gavel and shouting out numbers. The Louis Vuitton purse is sold for a number that makes Mike’s eyes water.
“Our next lot,” the sequinned auctioneer hollers. “A bottle of 25-year-old distilled single malt whisky! From a distillery—“
Harvey sits up a little straighter and Mike groans. “Oh my god. Do not outbid Jensen.”
“Bidding is the purpose of the event,” Harvey says, eyes tracking the room. Mike follows his gaze and sure enough, Jensen is grinning across the room at them.
Mike laughs, tilting his head back to look at Harvey. “Harvey—”
“Relax,” Harvey smirks. “Watch and learn.”
The bidding starts at five hundred dollars. Easy.
Then a thousand.
Then two.
“Three thousand!” Jensen calls, his eyes twinkling.
“Four.” Harvey says, his arm still round Mike, body language relaxed.
Mike can feel eyes on him and he shifts in his seat a little. Sure, people know about him and Harvey, but being like this? At a fancy event, in front of a sea of eyes? It’s still a little new and overwhelming at times, being Harvey Specter’s plus one.
He blinks as Harvey squeezes him lightly by the shoulder. “You alright?” he drops his voice to a soft murmur.
“Yeah.” Mike nods, flashing him a smile.
“Eight thousand!” Jensen’s voice booms across the room and Mike catches Harvey’s eye.
Harvey smirks, glancing back. He waits a few seconds to build the drama, before speaking. “Ten thousand. And you can gift the bottle to Mr Royce on my behalf.” he says in an easy tone. There is a murmur around the room and a few people applaud.
Jensen pauses before letting out a laugh. “Oh, Mr Specter. Always the gentleman. Offer accepted.”
“Sold!” the auctioneer whacks the gavel loudly and the outrageously expensive bottle of whisky is presented to Jensen, who tips his head to Harvey in gratitude. Harvey smiles back.
Mike blinks. “So you lost ten grand and a bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt?”
“It’s for charity.” Harvey says in an easy tone. “Come on, hot shot.” He stands up and Mike follows suit, blinking as the room tilts a little suddenly. “Woah.”
“You’re drunk off a few champagnes and two whiskies?” Harvey chuckles. “You really are a rookie.”
“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m not drunk.” Mike says, rolling his shoulders. “Just in shock that you gave away ten grand at the drop of a hat and didn’t even get a nice bottle of single malt out of it.”
“What can I say? Harvey Specter is generous.” Harvey guides him across to the bar.
“A beer, please.” Mike says immediately. He blinks as Harvey raises an eyebrow. “What? I’m just mellow. Tipsy.”
“Tipsy.” Harvey repeats, looking unconvinced. “Sure.”
Mike laughs, glancing around the busy room. He can just about make out Jensen, still cradling his bottle of whisky like a newborn baby. “Jensen owes you a favour now.”
“It’s always a good idea to let rich, older men owe you a favour.” Harvey says.
He orders Mike a beer, and another Macallan for himself.
Mike laughs. “You mean like—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Come on! You are older than me, pretty rich and kinda hot.” Mike says sweetly, leaning into Harvey’s side.
“Kinda hot?”
“You don’t need your ego inflating any more than it already is.”
Harvey pays for their drinks. “Remind me why I bought you along tonight, Mikey?”
“Uhh, as your young, hot boyfriend? Former pot smoker, college dropout turned badass lawyer?” Mike says in a knowing tone. He takes his beer as the barman slides it over. “Plus, I look great in a tux.”
“That I bought you-“
“-When we weren’t even dating.”
Harvey swirls his whisky in the glass tumbler. “Is that a problem?”
Mike laughs. “No, it’s not a problem, just uhhh, kinda presumptuous, Mr Specter.”
Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you asking me get you outta that tux pretty fast in Atlantic City-“
“Jesus, Harvey!” Mike gasps, face flushing. He kicks the older man on the ankle. “Can you not?”
Harvey smirks, bringing a hand up and resting it on the back of Mike’s neck. “Now you wanna be shy?”
“Oh my god.” Mike groans. “I hate you.”
Harvey laughs, taking a slug of whisky. “Oh, you do?”
Mike shakes his head, trying not to smile. “Stop tormenting me.” He leans into Harvey’s touch, sighing. “I’ve been playing good boyfriend all night, you know. Smiling at people, shaking hands, letting them all think we’re in some controversial sugar daddy arrangement.”
“Aren’t we?”
Mike gags on his beer a little. “Harvey, I swear to God.”
Harvey smirks, brushing his thumb against the back of Mike’s neck. “What else would you call it?”
Mike narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna call Ray and leave if you don’t quit it.”
Harvey looks amused and pulls him an inch closer. “Alright, dessert time, soak up some of that whisky.”
“You can’t just distract me with-“ Mike blinks as someone walks past with a plate of tiramisu. “Okay, maybe you can.”
They head back to the buffet section which has now been seamlessly rearranged with tray upon tray of desserts.
“Hell yeah.” Mike grins, grabbing a plate. They join the short queue and he leans his weight back against Harvey as they wait, tilting his head. “Do people really think I’m your…kept boy?”
Harvey lifts one shoulder. “Is that a problem if they do?”
“Harvey, you can't just answer every single one of my questions with is that a problem?”
“Well, is it?”
“I’m not a kept boy!” Mike splutters.
An older lady in the queue in front of them turns around, eyes tracking them both for a moment before turning back with a disdainful look.
Mike snorts with laughter. “Uh, anyway.”
“You’re not a kept boy, got it.” Harvey chuckles, kissing Mike on the temple. “Come on, hotshot. Move it.”
They grab a generous portion of tiramisu and find a quieter corner this time to sit. Mike watches the crowds as he eats, vaguely familiar faces popping up now and again. “Why aren’t Louis or Jessica here?”
“Jessica is busy tonight, and like hell Louis would be here.” Harvey says. “Giving away his money?”
Mike smiles. “You did, and you gave away the prize.”
“It kept Jensen happy. We can take a spin in his Bugatti soon.” Harvey sets down his small plate and looks at Mike. “You did good tonight.”
Mike blinks. “I did?”
“You met a lot of people. A lot of big egos.”
“Big egos? Wow. Never encountered one of them before.” Mike takes another bite of the tiramisu and hums. “Most people were cool, though. Some were a little confused by us, by me.”
“They can take it up with me personally, if they have a problem.” Harvey says, leaning back in his chair.
Mike smiles, washing his dessert down with the remainder of his beer. He lets out involuntary yawn. “Cool, so what time does this event end?”
Harvey studies him. “Do you need some air?”
“Air? No. Your bed, yes. Cloud bed.” Mike murmurs, eyes shutting for a second. He feels comfortably tipsy and full of food. “I love that bed.”
“Is that all I am to you, a warm bed?”
“And a sweet penthouse. And free rent.” Mike continues, eyes still shut. “And a free tux.”
He cracks open one eye. Harvey is smirking fondly. “You know, I can drop you off at Shithouse Towers if you want, back to your old apartment.”
Mike laughs. “It ain’t much but it’s got charm.”
“It’s got rats. And bedbugs.”
“Uh, rude, there’s no bedbugs… hey, Harvey, remember my-“
“Yes.” Harvey cuts him off. “You wiped the floor with Vivien Tanaka. Clever boy.”
Mike grins. “Right there, right there, you knew I was hot and capable.”
“Sure. Ten minutes after telling me you didn’t know how to fill out a subpoena.” Harvey says, mouth twitching. “Alright, come on. We’re going out for some air before you fall asleep like the puppy you are.”
Mike groans but obeys, standing up and stretching.
They weave through the crowds and out of the building. Mike shivers in the cool September evening and Harvey steers him down the steps and around the side of the building.
“Are you kidnapping me?” he blinks.
“No.”
“This feels like a kidnap.”
“You don’t appear to be fighting me off.” Harvey says dryly.
They pause in a quiet, darkened corner and Mike grins. “Who would fight you off? You’re hot.”
Harvey smirks and turns Mike into the wall, leaning in and kissing him and Mike sighs, kissing back, his arms sliding up naturally around Harvey’s neck.
“How hot?” Harvey murmurs against his lips.
“Like, ridiculously so. It’s a problem. Kinda life ruining.” Mike confirms. He strokes his fingers through the back of Harvey’s perfectly styled hair. “You own a mirror, this can’t be a surprise to you.”
“No, it’s not a surprise.” Harvey says airily, eyes twinkling. “You’re only human.”
Mike groans. “Idiot.”
He puckers his lips and Harvey obliges, kissing him once, then pressing a kiss to his cheek, his temple, his eyebrow.
“Hope we’re not on some security camera.” Mike laughs. “Harvey Specter and his controversially young associate.”
“Stop saying it’s controversial. You’re a full grown man, just with a baby face.”
Mike flutters his eyelashes. “Come on, Harvey, we all know it was the baby blues that hooked you in the first place.”
“It was your ass.” Harvey says in a deadpan tone, sliding one hand down his waist and squeezing lightly.
“Oh my god.” Mike laughs breathlessly. “HR? Hello, HR?”
Harvey smirks. “Come on. One more drink, then we’ll call it.”
Mike nods in agreement and leans up, stealing another kiss or three. They straighten their tuxedos before slipping back around the building and inside, Harvey’s hand resuming its place on Mike’s lower back.
The crowds have thinned a little now and they wander through, pausing to talk with a few more people, including some old clients Mike knows, regaling stories of court wins.
By the time another thirty minutes has passed, Mike is stifling a yawn and Harvey takes the hint, tapping out a message on his cellphone.
They slip out of a conversation and Harvey wraps an arm round him, directing them out the building. This time, Ray’s car is waiting at the curbside and they get inside, Mike sighing in relief.
“A good night, Mr Specter, Mr Ross?” Ray asks. There is some light jazz music playing in the background.
“Yeah. Harvey bet ten grand on a bottle of whisky and then gave it away, and I’m tipsy and full of food.” Mike yawns.
Harvey snorts. “That about sums up the night, Ray.”
“Ten thousands… dollars? On whisky?” Ray repeats. “For charity?”
“A worthwhile charity indeed.” Harvey nods.
Mike smiles, shifting over and resting his head on the older man’s shoulder, exhaling in relief when Harvey wraps an arm round him.
“You alright, baby?” he murmurs, dropping his voice to something softer.
Mike nods. “Kinda sleepy, kinda tipsy, kinda wanna be in bed with you.”
“Don’t they all?”
“Harvey, can you just… not make a quip for once in your life.”
Harvey chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple. The rest of the journey is quieter, a comfortable haze of soft jazz music still playing in the background.
When Ray pulls up to Harvey’s place, Mike is practically horizontal against him, half asleep now.
“Mike.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re home.”
“Huh?” Mike blinks, opening one eye. “Are you sure?”
“I think by now I know where I live.” Harvey says. He rubs his hand down Mike’s arm gently. “Come on, up and at it.”
Mike nods, sitting up and yawning. “Thanks, Ray.” he calls, getting out the car.
Harvey steers him towards the elevator and the moment they step into the penthouse, Mike kicks off his shoes, sighing in relief. “Thank god.”
“Easy with the Prada shoes.” Harvey says, shedding his tuxedo jacket. “Go on, bedroom.”
“When Harvey Specter tells you to go to the bedroom, you GO to the bedroom.” Mike grins. His hair is messy and his bowtie is hanging off now crookedly.
Harvey’s mouth twitches. “Go.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Mike sashays off, stifling a yawn. He slides off his suit jacket and grabs a coat hanger, thinking better than to throw it on the side. Harvey appears a minute later with two very large glasses of water.
“Oh my god, I’m not drunk.” Mike whines.
“But if you don’t drink that you’ll be unbearable tomorrow.” Harvey says, setting the water down. He gestures with two fingers and Mike steps up, smiling as Harvey undoes his bowtie, then starts on the buttons of his shirt.
“Being undressed by a hot, rich lawyer, wow.”
Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Oh you think you’re getting some action? Not in this state.”
“What state? I’m sober.” Mike whines.
He laughs a second later at the disbelieving look on Harvey’s face. “Okay, fine, I’m just, you know, a little… merry.”
“Merry.”
“Feeling good. Relaxed.” Mike nods, sliding off his shirt. Harvey backs him up to the bed and he sits down, fumbling with the button of his trousers.
“Donna text. Asked me if I’d won her anything on the auction.” Harvey says, freeing himself of his own shirt and pulling on a t-shirt.
Mike laughs. “Like hell. You didn't even bid on that weekend away in The Hamptons!”
“I told you, I’ll find us a Harvey Specter rated place to stay.” Harvey says. “Now..” He hands Mike a t-shirt and a soft pair of shorts and Mike wriggles into them. As soon as Harvey has changed properly, he moves closer, wrapping his arms round the older man’s broader frame and pressing his face into his neck.
“You alright?” Harvey murmurs, voice softening. He slides one hand up the back of Mike’s head, pressing his lips to his temple.
“Mm. I had a good time tonight.” Mike says. “Being with you.”
“Me too. You did good, baby, that was a lot of obnoxious, rich people to meet in one evening.”
Mike laughs softly. “Yeah, but I like it, being your mysterious plus one.”
“Mysterious? You kept asking for seconds of tiramisu.”
“It’s a good dessert.”
“It is.” Harvey chuckles. “Now, come on. Bathroom.”
Mike nods, pulling back and tilting his head expectantly. Harvey captures him in a kiss and Mike melts into it. “Will you take me to the next swanky event? Dress me up in a tuxedo again and act like my sugar daddy?”
Harvey smirks. “Mike, if you want to role-play, you only need to ask me.”
“Oh my god. I hate you.” Mike mutters, cheeks flushing. “Quit it.”
Harvey chuckles, steering him into the bathroom where they brush their teeth side by side.
“M’done now, need your bed.” Mike yawns, jaw cracking.
They head back to the bedroom and Harvey pulls back the blankets and Mike sinks into the soft mattress with a deep sigh. “Oh yeah, whatever you paid for this mattress was so worth it.”
“More than your monthly associates’ wage.” Harvey says dryly. “Here.”
Mike pushes himself up on one elbow and takes the proffered glass of water, gulping as much as he can before sighing.
“Back in a second.” Harvey murmurs, kissing him on the forehead.
Mike listens to the sounds of him checking the alarm on the front door and switching off lights before he comes back and slides into bed. Mike gravitates towards him immediately and Harvey draws him in, meeting him in another long kiss.
“Goodnight.” he murmurs.
“Goodnight.” Mike echoes sleepily. “You were kinda hot, by the way, tonight.”
“Kinda hot?”
“Okay, fine. The hottest guy in the room. As usual.”
Harvey smirks and kisses him again. “Mike, you really know how to inflate a man’s ego.”
“Like yours needs inflating more, but you’re welcome, babe.” Mike tucks his head under Harvey’s chin and sighs. “I can still feel the… champagne and whisky… and beer.”
“Serves you right for mixing drinks.”
“Uh, I’m an adult. I’m thirty.”
“Thirty, but uncultured in mixing spirits.” Harvey says lightly. He rubs his hand gently up and down Mike’s back and his eyes shut automatically. It’s Pavlovian at this point.
“Sleep.” Harvey whispers. “I got you.”
Mike nods, nuzzling his face in as close as he can get. If he could burrow himself under Harvey’s skin, he would.
Harvey tucks the blanket around them a little tighter and Mike exhales, his skeleton feeling like liquid now. “Goodnight.” he breathes.
“Night, sweetheart.” Harvey whispers.
Mike can’t help it - he pulls back an inch and Harvey chuckles, kissing him gently.
“Mike… go to sleep.”
“I’m going.” Mike smiles. He blinks slowly, studying Harvey’s face in the dim light of the bedroom. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Harvey says in a low tone. “You know I do.”
Mike nods, swallowing the stupid lump in his throat. “I know…”
Harvey draws him back in and he sighs, sleep dragging him under like a slow wave.
The last thing he feels is Harvey’s hand on his back, the comfiest mattress he’s ever slept on and the memory of the world's best tiramisu.
A plus one, he decides, is a pretty good thing to be.
Especially when it’s Harvey’s.