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It starts in the file room, home of all auspicious beginnings and the best place in the firm for accidental eavesdropping—especially when Mike’s stuck on the floor in a back row, searching for a case he half suspects Louis made up as punishment for the gluten.
“Man, I’m hungover,” says a voice Mike recognizes as belonging to Gregory.
“Same,” replies a second voice Mike can’t place. “I wasn’t expecting Ross to throw such a good party. He kind of killed it.”
Mike grins, file troubles momentarily forgotten. He knew he kicked the rookie dinner’s ass. Granted, that was mostly thanks to Rachel’s culinary expertise, and if it weren’t for Harvey’s generosity he’d be curled in a corner hyperventilating about the bill. But still: nailed it.
He’s already composing a victory speech for the next time he’s in Harvey’s office when the conversation takes a sharp turn into the unexpected.
Gregory scoffs. “Don’t be too impressed. It’s easy to ‘kill it’ when Harvey Specter’s footing the bill.”
“Wait, what?” asks the unknown second associate, echoing Mike’s thoughts exactly.
Mike had wanted to brag about Harvey covering the night’s expenses; it’s proof that under the asshole bravado he cares. But he’s positive Harvey wouldn’t want people to know, so he’s been a good little associate and kept his mouth shut. And he can’t imagine Harvey telling anyone, except maybe Donna, but she wouldn’t spill either, so how—
“Devon got a look at the bill. You know he always wants to compare.”
Oh, that’s how.
“Fucking Devon,” grumbles Associate Number Two. “Everything’s a dick measuring contest with him.”
Gregory laughs approvingly at the barb, which is rich coming from one of the most competitive people Mike’s had the displeasure of meeting. “He may be a dick, but he wouldn’t lie about this. He says Harvey’s the one who paid for Mike’s big night. Must be nice having a sugar daddy.”
Associate Number Two whistles. “Wow. So they really are together?”
Wait, hold up—What?
“Oh yeah, big time. Didn’t you hear Harvey hired Mike on the spot? My friend was there. Vice president of the Law Review; he didn’t even get to do his interview.”
“So...?”
“So I’m saying, Mike clearly made quite the first impression.”
Heart pounding, Mike risks shifting to a low crouch, rising just enough to see Gregory demonstrate exactly what kind of impression he thinks Mike made.
What the actual fuck?
Associate Number Two turns out to be Aaron, the guy Harvey said would never make partner, which is small consolation in this moment. “Huh,” he says, watching Gregory’s crude gesture as if it holds the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. “I didn’t believe it, but if Harvey’s paying for Ross’s rookie dinner...”
“Believe it,” Gregory finishes. “Why else do you think he lets Ross get away with so much shit?”
With a laugh, they head out.
“Uh, because I’m awesome?” Mike defends to the empty room as he sinks back to the floor, feeling vaguely nauseous. “What the hell was that?”
***
Five minutes and zero files later, Mike collapses into the spare chair in Rachel’s office, shaking from adrenaline he can’t entirely justify.
“Do people in this office have nothing better to do than gossip?” he asks without preamble.
Rachel doesn’t look up from her work. “I think you meant to say ‘Why hello, Rachel, how are you doing? Thanks so much for all your help finding an amazing restaurant for my rookie dinner.’”
“Hi, thanks for the dinner, it was great except now all the associates think I’m sleeping with Harvey.”
That outburst apparently merits a half-second glance away from the computer screen. “Don’t blame the restaurant. The associates already thought you were sleeping with Harvey, and it’s not my fault he covered the bill.”
Mike groans, sinking deeper into his seat. “You already heard?”
Sighing, Rachel turns to face him, expression vaguely pitying. “News travels fast around here, especially when it’s news about Harvey doing something nice. I don’t know what you expect people to think.”
“Well, first of all, I didn’t expect people to hear about it, because who sneaks a look at someone else’s bill? And second, I didn’t expect people to think I’m sleeping with my boss!” Mike takes a deep breath, willing down the panic. “How many people know?”
“That he paid for the dinner? Not sure. The rumor you’re sleeping together? Everyone.”
Fuck. That’s definitely not the answer he wanted to hear. He slouches even lower, almost tipping the chair over in the process. “Everyone everyone? Does Harvey?”
Rachel makes a face like Mike’s crazy for posing the question. “I’ll ask him next time we get lunch together,” she jokes, turning back to her work. Something in Mike’s expression must soften her, though, because she pauses mid-rotation to add, more genuinely, “I originally heard about it from Donna. I can’t imagine she didn’t warn him.”
An embarrassed heat spreads up the back of Mike’s neck. He wants out of this conversation, away from this room that’s suddenly too warm. But there’s no way he’ll have the balls to follow up with Donna, let alone Harvey, so this might be his best chance to get some kind of handle on the situation.
“Did she say anything else?” he ventures. “Anything that might help?”
Rachel shrugs. “Just that it’s a ridiculous rumor and everyone who matters knows Harvey would never.”
“Oh, great.” Mike sucks in air, fighting against inexplicable tightness in his chest. “Because he’s straight?”
“No, because he’s not actually that much of an asshole.”
“So he’s not straight?”
Weirdly, that’s the comment that gets Rachel to push away from her computer entirely, swiveling to fix Mike with a thoughtful gaze. “I don’t know. But more importantly, why do you want to know?”
“I—what? No reason.” Mike rubs his sweaty palms against his pants. “Just trying to figure out how to stop the rumor.”
Rachel’s eyes narrow, but she lets whatever she’s thinking go.
“Trying to stop it will make it worse,” she advises, turning back to her work. “Trust me, let it be, people will move on.”
***
Rachel’s normally spot on about the ins and outs of the firm, but Mike’s not so sure she’s right about the people moving on thing. He starts cataloging the other associates’ reactions any time he and Harvey are in the same room, filing away who’s jealous, who’s disgusted, who’s intrigued. Now that he’s looking for the signs, it seems like everyone he knows has an opinion about this relationship that’s not happening.
Or maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe he thinks everyone else is obsessing over it because he’s obsessing over it. Which is dumb, because there’s no “it” to obsess over. And apparently there never can or will be an “it,” because Harvey’s not that kind of asshole, and for all Mike knows he’s straight as a whistle. And even if Harvey did swing that way, he probably wouldn’t be interested. Mike’s not exactly a low confidence kind of guy, not about this, but he’s seen the women Harvey flirts with; the male equivalent doesn’t wear skinny ties and bike in from Brooklyn.
None of which he should be considering because this whole line of thought is stupid and a waste of time and never should’ve started and why can’t he stop?
The most annoying part is Harvey doesn’t seem to care. Not that Mike’s dumb enough to bring it up with him, but if Donna knows Harvey must know, that’s just the way of the universe. And yet he keeps flaunting their relationship like he’s daring someone to say something, constantly dropping by the bullpen to throw a file on Mike’s desk or bark orders that could’ve easily been barked over the phone.
“Harvey’s visited the associates more in the last week than the entire year before you showed up,” Harold mentions during a much-needed caffeine break one day, after Harvey graces the bullpen with his presence twice before noon.
Bluffing is not going to be one of Harold’s strong suits as an attorney; the comment is tossed off with such badly forced casualness he might as well have a neon sign over his head screaming I want details. If Mike hadn’t already put in his order, he’d seriously consider walking out of the crowded café without another word.
As it is, he shrugs and leans over the counter, pretending to be very interested in the progress of their coffees. “He didn’t have a personal associate before me.”
“Still, he doesn’t have to come in person so much,” Harold insists, because of course he can’t take the hint that Mike isn’t interested in this conversation. “I think it’s sweet that he checks in on you.”
Mike snaps around to look at Harold, who blinks at him, guilelessly earnest.
“Did I just hear you refer to Harvey as sweet? Harvey Specter? Are you having a stroke?”
“I know it’s not what other people think is going on, but I’m not stupid. I can tell he really cares about you.”
Okay, that is enough of that, because now Mike’s heart is hammering and his mouth is dry and wow, he did not expect the one thing to make this situation worse would be Harold fucking Gunderson implying that he and Harvey are...whatever it is that Harold’s implying. More than the sleazy partner and opportunistic associate everyone else seems to envision.
“The contracts I have to review by 8 a.m. tomorrow beg to differ,” he manages over the static in his brain. “There’s nothing ‘sweet’ about an all-nighter.”
Harold smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be knowing but comes off clownish. “Sure.”
Fortunately, their coffees arrive before Mike has to decide how to respond to Harold of all people acting like he knows things about his life.
“And on that note, I’m going to get back to work,” he says, grabbing his coffee and pivoting to almost run out of the café. “Contracts won’t read themselves.”
“Yeah, and you don’t want to disappoint Harvey!” Harold calls after him.
Mike hates how true that is, even if the rest of it is completely wrong.
***
Mike realizes he’s in real trouble after he spends a lunch pretending to be married to Rachel and doesn’t want to ask her out after. He goes into the whole exercise thinking that’s where it’s headed, on the theory that if they spend more time together, he can get his mind back on a track not labeled Harvey Specter. But at the end of the day he can’t quite bring himself to say the words. The thing is, he’d spent the whole time wishing he was pretending to be married to Harvey instead.
Damn it.
***
Then Harvey goes and rescues Trevor, and Mike revises his assessment from “in trouble” to “totally fucked.” There’s no way to redirect the train now. He’s headed straight into “I’m falling for my boss who barely has a heart” territory, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.
***
Sometimes, just sometimes, when Harvey gives him a particularly bright smile for a job well done, Mike’s own heart does this thing where it swells up and tingles with hope.
But then a voice that sounds suspiciously like Donna’s cuts into his mind, saying “Harvey would never,” and he deflates like the saddest balloon at the birthday party.
(It doesn’t stop his stupid heart from doing the same damn thing with the next smile.)
***
At least he learns to live with the looks from the other associates. It helps that he now understands the hollow sadness that accompanies catching someone thinking about a relationship that will never be real. He notices the feeling, acknowledges it, and shoves it to the side. Ironically, Harvey would probably be proud of the whole mind over emotions thing he’s got going on these days. It turns out having an inconvenient crush on your boss is better training at becoming a badass emotionless lawyer than any case.
In sum, he manages to hit a survivable equilibrium, diving into work and almost convincing himself that he’ll be able to live off scraps of Harvey’s praise. Of course, that’s exactly when Harvey decides it’s a great idea to adjust Mike’s tie for him. In front of the other associates. Because fuck his life, honestly.
It’s a simple gesture, over almost before it starts, accompanied by a quip about learning to dress himself that Mike doesn’t register; his brain is too busy with the brush of Harvey’s fingers against his shirt.
“Well?” Harvey prods when Mike just stands there, gaping at him. He gestures toward the exit. “Come on, we’re going to be late to the hearing.”
Mike can feel the glares of the entire bullpen on his back as he follows Harvey out of the office. He stays silent as they hustle through the lobby and into Ray’s car, because Jesus, what is he supposed to do with what just happened?
When they’re finally on the road, jerking their way through Manhattan traffic, Harvey turns to him and says, “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”
Mike straightens in his seat, hands reflexively going to the knot on his tie. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something’s wrong?”
Harvey gives his most unimpressed scowl. “Here’s a lesson, Rookie: if you don’t want people to realize something’s wrong, you need to act normal. Which in your case unfortunately means a constant stream of questions and weak attempts at banter.”
“Hey, you love my banter.”
“I put up with it.”
“It’s the highlight of your day.”
“And you’re attempting to deflect, which you should already know is not going to work on me.” Harvey points an accusing finger in his direction. “You were fine this morning. What changed?”
Mike slumps back into his seat. “It’s not important.”
“Is it work related?”
That is a much more complicated question than Harvey knows. Mike shrugs. “Kind of?”
“Then it’s important to me.”
Ah, yes, of course. Corollary being: if it’s personal, Harvey doesn’t give a damn, because despite the Trevor thing and the occasional chink in his Harvey Specter: Iceman at Law armor, he doesn’t care about Mike in the way Mike cares about him. Which is kind of the whole problem.
But there’s also no escaping this conversation, and the problem is work related, in a way. Maybe it’s time to drag the elephant out of the middle of the room and shoot it. That sounds like the kind of thing a badass emotionless lawyer would do.
“It’s just, that shit with my tie?” Mike mimes adjusting it. “Maybe you don’t care what other people think because you’re already you, but as you love to remind me, I’m bottom of the food chain. I’m never going to earn other people’s respect if the rumor doesn’t die, and it’s not going to die if you keep doing stuff like that.”
He expects Harvey to make a sarcastic remark about not being a babysitter or Mike growing thicker skin, but instead he stares at Mike blankly. And not the pointed, controlled blankness he pulls out when he doesn’t want opposing counsel to know what he’s thinking. It’s a strained, blinking blankness that suggests something almost impossible to reconcile with the expression being on Harvey Specter’s face: confusion.
“Mike,” he says slowly, “what are you talking about?”
“The...rumor? About us?” But even as he stammers it out, he can see his misstep clear in the way Harvey’s brow crinkles.
“The rumor. About us,” Harvey echoes flatly.
“Yeah. And the...um...relationship people think we have?”
A muscle in Harvey’s jaw twitches ominously. “Which is...?”
“Are you seriously going to make me say it?”
Harvey pins him with a look that says, Of course I am, Rookie.
“They think we’re, you know...” He gestures between them. “Together. Sexually.” He feels himself go red at the word, and barrels forward before Harvey has a chance to realize exactly how that concept affects him. “And to go back to my original point, that means a lot of people think I got this job for reasons other than my outstanding qualifications, which sucks for me.”
This announcement is met with silence. Mike might not have his mentor’s talent for reading people in general, but he likes to think he’s getting pretty good at reading the man himself, and Harvey’s white-knuckled grip on his seatbelt doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination. Apparently, he does care what other people think of him, and sleeping with Mike is outside the range of an acceptable reputation.
“Harvey…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question is clipped and formal, and Harvey doesn’t look him in the eye as he asks it. “You’re supposed to tell me when we have a problem.”
“I honestly thought you knew. Donna—”
“You talked to Donna about this?”
“Rachel,” Mike corrects, which earns a disproving glance from Harvey. “But she said Donna knew, so I assumed—”
“Never assume,” Harvey snaps. His grip on the seatbelt is getting downright terrifying. “Especially not based on secondhand knowledge from some paralegal. Always come to me.”
“Okay,” Mike agrees quickly, mostly to calm Harvey down. “Okay, I will. I’m sorry.”
They fall into another silence. Mike presses his forehead to the window, counting pedestrians to distract himself from the lump in his throat.
“I hope you know I would never abuse my power over you like that,” Harvey eventually says. It’s surprisingly soft, earnest, like it’s important that Mike believes him.
“I know,” Mike assures him, ignoring how bitter it tastes. “And other people should know, but other people are assholes, so...” He trails off into a shrug. “I’m just trying to preserve my reputation here.”
And his sanity, but who’s counting?
Harvey shifts, facing Mike directly, eyes sweeping over him, sharp and observing. After a moment, he nods. “Okay, I’ve got the message. Consider it handled.”
Then he turns and looks out the window, a clear signal that the conversation is over. It should be a relief; Harvey knows, Harvey’s going to try to fix it, and Harvey being Harvey, he’ll almost certainly succeed.
So why does Mike feel nauseous again?
***
Over the next few weeks, it becomes clear that Harvey’s idea of fixing things is to stop coming to the bullpen entirely. That alone wouldn’t matter; Mike enjoys seeing him, of course, but he can do without the constant stares from his fellow associates. The problem is, the lack of bullpen facetime is accompanied by a notable cooling of their (very excellent, thank you) banter, even when they’re alone in Harvey’s office, which doesn’t seem necessary or fair at all.
“You know Donna knows the truth, right?” Mike points out in exasperation when his latest attempt at starting a round of movie quotes is rebuffed, even after he lands an amazing Top Gun reference that Harvey totally smiles at before he remembers to go back to no-fun-ever mode.
Harvey quirks his head just enough to be a warning. “That you’re a fraud? Yeah, kind of hard to forget.”
“No, that we’re not...” He waves between them. “You know.”
The quirk gets a little more pronounced. “Your point?”
“It’s just...you don’t...” You don’t have to cut me off in here, too. But he doesn’t have the courage to say that. It’s not like Harvey owes him witty repartee. “Never mind.”
“That’s what I thought,” Harvey says, harsher than strictly necessary. “Now where’s my merger agreement?”
***
Annoyingly, rather than conclude the rumor is false, the other associates seem to collectively decide Harvey’s absence is evidence of a lover’s quarrel. Gregory keeps making jokes about Mike being in the doghouse, and Harold—sweet, making everything worse Harold—shoots Mike sympathetic glances at least three times an hour.
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you eventually,” he comments one day when they run into each other at the bathroom sink.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mike lies.
Because Harold is the absolute worst at taking a hint, he clarifies, “Whatever’s going on with you and Harvey.”
“There’s nothing going on with me and Harvey. He’s just busy.” Mike grabs a paper towel. “And even if there was, why would you assume I’m the one who needs to be forgiven?”
Harold pats Mike’s arm comfortingly, which is easily one of the top ten most embarrassing things to ever happen to him.
***
Then Dana Scott shows up. Harvey brings her to the office to negotiate the end of their stupid deal and very, very conspicuously leaves with her. With her, walking so close that even without knowing their history anyone could see what it means.
And everyone knows their history. It goes around the building like wildfire, and with it a notable uptick in people looking either smug or pitiful whenever they run into Mike.
Which is all good and fine and not a problem at all, because Mike has no right to be upset about Harvey doing whatever Harvey damn well pleases. He definitely doesn’t spend the entire night tossing in his bed because he can’t get the image of Harvey and Dana Scott out of his mind, and jealousy definitely does not gnaw at his insides, and he is definitely not losing his goddamn mind and—and—
Fuck.
So much for being Mr. Emotionless Badass Lawyerman.
***
He holds himself together through most of the next day. He greets Harvey as normal and is slightly mollified when Harvey grumpily tosses him a brief and snarls that he needs it reviewed by lunch, and no, he still doesn’t care about Mike’s mock trial. It’s rude, sure, but it’s also not the attitude of a man who had a great night filled with hot sex.
Not that it’s any of Mike’s business.
At least not until he loses—chooses to lose—the trial and Kyle corners him in the hall to gloat.
“Guess you can’t do anything right around here,” he says with the same annoying smirk Mike’s seen on half the associates’ faces since Harvey started distancing himself. “Can’t beat me, can’t keep Harvey satisfied...”
“Fuck off, Kyle.” Mike pushes past his opponent and stalks away before he gets himself fired for punching another associate in the face. He just wants to go home and wallow in the utter disaster he’s managed to make of everything.
“I mean, I’d pick Dana Scott over you, too,” Kyle yells after him.
Mike stops, flinching. He should turn around, defend himself, make another valiant attempt to set the record straight. But Kyle’s mocking, triumphant expression from earlier is already seared into his memory; he doesn’t need to see it again. It’s a losing battle anyway.
He keeps walking—straight to Harvey’s office.
***
“It’s not working,” he declares as soon as he throws open the glass door.
Harvey, cool as ever, looks up from his computer. “Your attempt to pretend you know how to be a lawyer? I noticed.”
Mike’s fingers curl into the fists he resisted putting in Kyle’s face. Seriously, this is the guy he’s fallen for?
“I’m not talking about the trial, Harvey.”
“Are you sure? Because that definitely wasn’t working.”
Mike knows Harvey’s being a dick, but that doesn’t stop his stomach from dropping at the disappointment in his voice, because his own brain—or maybe heart—is the biggest dick of all. He closes his eyes, willing himself to focus. When he opens them again, Harvey looks quizzical.
“Maybe I fucked up the trial because I was distracted.”
“By...?”
“By everyone I know thinking I’ve been tossed aside for Dana Scott.”
Harvey starts back, unable to hide his surprise. It’s deeply satisfiying to throw him off his game, for once. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.” Absently, Mike forces his fingers to open before his nails start cutting the inside of his palms. “The whole disappearing act you’ve pulled hasn’t changed anything; it’s just made people think you’re tired of me. So now instead of being the guy who’s fucking the boss, I’m the guy who can’t even get that right.”
He watches Harvey’s face closely to gage his reaction, but he’s not sure what to make of the straight set of his mouth and the tightening of his jaw. He’s annoyed, but that could mean anything.
“I’m sorry about that,” Harvey finally replies, tone is as impossible to read as his expression. “But I’m not sure what you want me to do here.”
Let me prove I can do that right, Mike’s brain unhelpfully provides. Yeah, saying that out loud would definitely not help this situation. “I want you to fix it, like you promised you would.”
“I thought I was fixing it. I’m sorry it didn’t work.” There’s genuine resignation in the words, but then Harvey sits straighter, clearing his throat and visibly shaking off any hint of real emotion. “That being said, in the end, people are going to believe what they want to believe. You’ll have to prove them wrong. Here’s an idea: maybe you should start by not losing in front of the entire firm because you don’t want to hurt your girlfriend’s feelings.”
Oh, fuck that. The only good interpersonal choice Mike’s made in ages, and Harvey reduces it to an office flirtation. It’s bullshit, especially when Harvey’s the whole reason Mike can’t look at Rachel—or anyone—that way anymore.
“No,” he snaps, startling himself with his own vehemence. “You’re not going to make me feel bad about deciding my friend is more important than a stupid fake trial. And here’s an idea for you: if you want me to prove them wrong, you could at least help out by not flaunting your latest conquest in our goddamn workplace.”
He expects Harvey to push back, deliver his millionth speech about being willing to crush anyone, emotions are for suckers, yadda, yadda. Instead, he goes still, eyes narrowing.
Then, suddenly, they widen with realization.
“You’re jealous,” he says. It’s not a question.
“What? No, I’m not.” But Mike can hear his voice lilt up, too high; a tell, and there’s no way Harvey misses it.
“You are,” Harvey insists. “You mentioned Scottie twice in the last two minutes. You were bothered.”
“I’m bothered by the rumor—”
“But not because you care what other people think. Because you want it to be true.”
Motherfucker. This is what Mike gets for having this conversation with a man who reads people for a living. The worst part is, under Harvey’s confidence there’s a note of shock, which means Mike’s feelings are news to him. Which also means he’s probably rapidly reevaluating if he’s worth keeping around. Hiring a fraud is one thing; a lovesick idiot is another proposition entirely.
Damn it. He needs to reverse course like, yesterday.
“Come on, Harvey, that’s ridiculous.” He puts as much fake outrage into the sentence as he can. “Why would I want to have slept my way into this job? The real story is much cooler.”
Harvey gives him one of his patented cut the bullshit looks. “You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, but that doesn’t mean you’re right.”
Harvey’s eyes flick toward Donna at her desk. “Fine, I’m wrong,” he agrees with suspicious ease. “It’s rare but it happens.” He drums his fingers against his chair a few times before adding, “Grab your stuff, we’re going to dinner.”
“We’re...what? Why?” Mike stammers, anger and worry cut short by the scramble to keep up with this unexpected turn.
Harvey shoots another quick glance out the door. “Because we need to dissect what you did wrong at the mock trial, and the list is long enough that we might as well do it over a burger.”
Mike bites the inside of his cheek, mulling the offer over. On one hand, revisiting his defeat is the last thing he wants to do right now. On the other, the only way he can make sense of this sudden swerve is that Harvey is trying to assure Mike that he believes him (or is willing to pretend to believe him) and prove their professional relationship is fine despite the completely unprofessional conversation they were having until about thirty seconds ago. Mike’s not in a position to turn the gesture down.
He nods. “Okay.”
“Good.” Harvey points at the door. “Go get your stuff and be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
***
When Mike works up the nerve to go downstairs twenty minutes later, Harvey’s waiting outside, hands in his pockets, watching the people hustling by in the fading light of early evening. He spares Mike a quick glance when he comes up beside him. “You’re late.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t bother with an excuse. They’d both know it was a lie anyway.
“It’s fine.” Harvey rocks on his heels, returning his gaze straight ahead. “For the record, I didn’t sleep with Scottie.”
Mike gapes at him in response, mouth opening and closing a few times. Is he having a stroke? Some sort of hallucinatory episode? There’s no way he heard what he thinks he heard, right?
“This is the part where you ask me why I told you that,” Harvey comments calmly, as if they’re discussing filing a patent application. Calmer, honestly.
“Why did you tell me that?” Mike parrots obediently. What the fuck else is he going to do?
“I told you that because I want you to ask me why I didn’t sleep with her.”
Mike quickly runs through the possible answers to that question and concludes it’s probably something about how Harvey doesn’t sleep with opposing counsel the same way he doesn’t sleep with associates, and Mike better get that through his head before he makes things weird.
Heart pounding in his throat, he forces himself to say, “There must be a more straightforward way to make this point.” It comes out hoarse.
Harvey raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Wrong answer.
“Fine.” Mike sighs. He can’t believe he’s about to say this to his boss. “Why didn’t you sleep with your smoking hot ex-girlfriend, or whatever she is?”
Harvey keeps his eyes trained on the masses of Manhattan as he replies, “Same reason I cut you off: because I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I want that rumor to be true.”
For a moment the entire city goes silent, drowned out by the blood rushing past Mike’s ears. The next second, it’s like everything is amped to eleven, so loud he’s dizzy with it.
“What?” he rasps, a puff of sound he can hardly believe Harvey notices over the racket surrounding them.
“You heard me,” Harvey replies, just as quietly, still not looking at Mike. “I’m going to give you two options: either we go to dinner, I tell you everything you did wrong in the mock trial, and we never speak of this again, ever...or we go back to my place and we make those rumors almost true.”
Mike checks for Punk’d hidden cameras—because wow, there’s no way this is actually happening—before whispering, “I thought you said you wouldn’t sleep with a subordinate.”
The briefest flicker of triumph crosses Harvey’s face. “You have to pay attention to the details, Mike. Just now, I said we’ll make the rumors almost true, and back then I said I’d never abuse my power by hiring someone because they slept with me. You’re already hired. The sex would be incidental.”
Mike rewinds to the conversation in question and replays it. “Actually, you said you’d never abuse your power over me ‘like that.’ That’s ambiguous. I’d argue it’s as easily read to mean—”
“Mike,” Harvey cuts in, amused. “Do you want to argue semantics, or do you want to come home with me?”
“Both?”
Harvey shakes his head, but this time his smile stays on his face. “Come on, before I remember you’re too much of an idiot to allow into my condo.”
Mike smirks back as he follows Harvey to the curb, using false confidence to cover the way his body is shaking, shock and anticipation too palpable to contain. “The problem with that threat is you totally love it when I’m an idiot.”
“Now that’s an idiotic take.” Not that it stops Harvey from flagging down the nearest cab.
“Nuh-uh. Can’t fool me. You think I’m funny,” Mike sing-songs. “You want to kiss me, you want to hug me...”
“Well, you definitely are Miss Congeniality,” Harvey tells him as a cab pulls up. He yanks the door open and gestures for Mike to get in. “But you do understand that’s a bad thing in our line of work, right?”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to have to argue with that,” Mike teases as he scrambles into the cab.
Harvey’s smile is blinding as he slips in after, all smooth movement and confidence; the one person in the world who can make getting into a car sexy. “This should be good. Okay, hit me, Sandra Bullock.”
***
The banter flows all the way back to Harvey’s apartment, as free and easy as before the rumors messed everything up. It’s almost as fun as putting those rumors into action.
Almost.
***
To Mike’s surprise, Harvey doesn’t kick him out after. Instead, he wipes him down and lends him a pair of insanely soft sweatpants to sleep in.
“Jesus, dude, are these made of silk or something?” Mike asks as he slips back into the world’s most comfortable bed, stretching his worn limbs and feeling unreasonably content for someone who got no sleep and suffered an embarrassing loss in front of all his co-workers only hours ago.
Harvey, still changing, throws an exaggerated glare over his shoulder. “Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean you get to call me ‘dude.’”
“‘Sleeping together’ in the present tense, huh?” Mike grins. “That implies continued and ongoing activity.”
Harvey straightens and turns, small smile playing across his lips. “You paid attention to the details this time.”
He settles onto the bed, smile fading but not leaving his eyes as he cups Mike’s cheek with a gentle touch. “I hope it goes without saying that this doesn’t change what goes on in the office, in either direction. If you want to stop at any time, it won’t affect your job. But I’m not going to go easier on you, either.”
“I’d be insulted if you did,” Mike assures him. “And don’t worry, I plan on kicking so much ass that everyone has to respect me whether or not I’m sleeping with the boss. Which I will be, because I’m awesome.”
Then, because apparently he can, he pulls Harvey into a kiss, slow and deep. It lasts long enough that Mike starts getting hard again, but when he moans in earnest, thoughts of a second round percolating up his spine, Harvey breaks away and rolls over to turn off the bedside lamp, muttering that not everyone in the room is still a teenager.
“Did you just call yourself old?” Mike asks, flopping into the pillows. He’s only mildly disappointed; being allowed to witness the great Harvey Specter sleep soft and frankly kind of adorable is pleasure enough. “Isn’t that a self-own?”
“No, I called you immature,” Harvey corrects, lying back in his own pillows. “Important difference.”
“You weren’t complaining about my maturity level when I was sucking your dick an hour ago.”
“And yet, the fact that you just brought that up proves my point.”
Mike laughs into the darkness, letting himself enjoy the sudden warmth blooming in his chest; letting himself believe, for a moment, that this is something real.
“You know,” he finally says, “Harold Gunderson didn’t think you were abusing your power over me.”
“Who?” Harvey asks, rolling onto his side to look at Mike through sleepy eyes.
Mike rolls over too, so they line up nose to nose. “Harold? He’s like the only other associate I like? Blond hair, extra nervous around Louis?”
“Oh, that guy.” Harvey’s face wrinkles. “He’s the associate you like?”
“He’s nice.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.” Harvey slings an arm around Mike’s waist and tugs him closer. “Why are we talking about him while half naked? Or ever?”
“Because. He did think we were together, but he didn’t think it was transactional. He thinks you actually care about me.”
Harvey is quiet for long enough that Mike’s afraid he’s pushed too far, but then he finally says, “Huh. Harold, was it?”
“Um, yeah?”
Harvey brushes his nose against Mike’s cheek. “You’re never allowed to take a sick day, but if you do I guess I know who to have sub in for you. Sounds like he’s not a complete moron, unlike the rest of them.” He dips down to give Mike a kiss, soft and sweet. “Now go to bed. You’re not going to prove all the morons wrong on zero sleep.”
***
The next morning, Harvey comes down to the bullpen to deliver work Mike easily could’ve picked up himself.
“And I hope you’re better at reviewing these briefs than you were at the mock trial,” he gripes, but there’s a touch of humor underneath the stern tone.
Mike replies with a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Harvey rolls his eyes but ends with a fond smile, tapping the side of Mike’s cubical twice before departing.
“I see you’re back in daddy’s good graces,” Gregory teases once Harvey’s out of earshot.
This time, instead of deflecting or slumping into his seat, Mike flashes a grin in return. “Guess I’m just that awesome at everything I do.”
Let the rumor mill run wild on that answer. For once, Mike couldn’t care less what they say.