suits comment fics

Mike’s head snaps up from the file he’s been reading. Harvey’s voice sounds a little hoarse, a little out of breath, and Mike can feel a frown forming on his face. “What?”

When their eyes meet across the room, Mike’s stomach lurches. It feels as if he’s on a plane that has just hit an air pocket, and his head begins to spin.

Harvey’s eyes are narrowed and, there is no other word for it, on fire.

Mike swallows, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

“I said stop it.”

He can see Harvey swallowing as well, and his heart misses a beat.

“Stop what?” Mike croaks as he watches Harvey rise from his chair behind his desk. “Stop…”

Harvey loosens his tie and walks around the desk, then he makes his way over to the sofa where Mike is sitting, the file he’d been working on still open in his lap. Harvey licks his lips and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That,” he says as he comes to stand right in front of Mike, the look in his eyes intensified a hundredfold. He nods at Mike, and it takes Mike a couple of breathless seconds to realise what Harvey must be talking about.

He lets his lower lip slip from between his teeth and he can feel himself blush.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Harvey nods, licking his lips again. “Oh.”

Mike’s stomach lurches again, and he realizes three things at once - that his lips prickle with desire, with an untameable thirst for Harvey’s lips, that his heart is racing at least a hundred beats per minute and that beneath that folder in his lap he’s painfully hard.

“Or what?” He whispers, looking up and locking eyes with Harvey again. He lets the folder slide to the floor, sheets of paper falling out left and right, leans back and spreads his legs.

“Or I’ll make you pay.”

Harvey is on his knees in the blink of an eye, his lips feasting on Mike’s, devouring him, while his fingers tear open Mike’s shirt, pulling it from Mike’s trousers, undoing Mike’s belt and button. His smell is intoxicating, and Mike can feel both their hearts racing in their chests. A hungry moan falls from his lips as Harvey kisses down his throat and his hand worms its way into Mike’s trousers.

“Oh fuck,” he hisses when Harvey’s fingers close around his cock and his thumb runs over its tip, wet wit pre-come. “I’m…”

He’s trying to pull Harvey’s shirt off, along with the west and the tie, desperate for touch and skin. He pulls Harvey closer, dying to feel Harvey’s erection against his, his hips already grinding against Harvey’s body with accelerating urgency. He will let Harvey fuck him here and now, he has never felt so open, never so–

The next second Harvey’s heat is gone, the sensation of skin against skin still burning in Mike’s fingertips.

Mike opens his eyes, desperately out of breath and on the verge of coming in his pants, only to find Harvey smirking down at him.

“I told you to stop,” Harvey says, shoving the hem of his shirt back into his trousers and straightening his hair. “Now you know why.”

“I–” Mike croaks, but he’s interrupted by a moan as his cock twitches in his pants. He’s so close he can taste it and he squeezes his eyes shut and bites back another moan, hovering on the edge of climax for what seems like an eternity. When he dares open his eyes again, Harvey is still standing there, watching Mike’s struggle with burning eyes, a wicked smile playing around his lips.

“Because that’s the thing you do is making me feel,” Harvey murmurs, and Mike has to close his eyes once more. The next words out of Harvey’s mouth cause Mike’s heart skip a beat and make him bite his lip again.

“Now pack up your things and let’s get home. I’m far from done making you pay.”

—-

Harvey half-wonders if he had slept on the wrong side of the bed, because this isn’t what he imagined his day going like. The cold bite of steel on his neck is definitely something new, despite the idle death threats that Donna tosses his way every now and then to keep him on his toes.

“You’re not Rick Sorkin,” Harvey grits out, knowing that he’s stating the obvious. The open briefcase full of weed on the floor is interesting. Are they taking side jobs in Heaven now? He wants to comment at how absurd this plateau is, but the savage snarl on the angel’s face silences him.

“Certainly not, demon. You know very well why I’m here.” The knife digs deeper into his neck, and Harvey can feel the warm trickle of blood oozing out of the slim line.

Dazedly, he observes as the knife glints enticingly in the warm morning light. It’s a pretty thing that the angel is holding, engraved with long-forgotten arcane runes. And it’s specifically designed to wipe beings like him off the face of the universe. Any deeper and it’s going to kill him.

“I do. So why don’t you just get on with it, angel? Getting cold feet?” The last thing that Harvey should be doing is to taunt something hellbent on killing him, but he really doesn’t care any longer. Perhaps this false show of bravado will throw the angel off his tracks and buy him some time, although that’s probably too much to hope for.

“Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Absurdly enough, the answer is easy. It goes against everything that he has been taught to uphold as a demon, but there is one thing.

“Donna. Donna would miss me.” Harvey gestures outside with a vague wave. Despite their elaborate pretense of mutual dislike, Harvey knows that there is nothing they wouldn’t do for each other. He doesn’t have to question it. It’s a fact, just like how the sky is blue and the Earth is round.

“That human outside?” The angel actually looks intrigued now, and that is enough motivation for Harvey to continue.

“Yes. She’s -” Harvey flails at finding the word, because there’s nothing that does her justice. Personal assistant? Confidante? Best friend? “She’s perfect,” he ends lamely, and he really prays Donna isn’t listening in to this conversation right now. It would kill him to admit something like that to her face.

The angel throws his head back in a fit of laughter, showing his pearly white teeth. The stark dichotomy between the dazzlingly white feathers enshrouding the area and the knife, dripping with blood so dark it almost looks black (his blood) arrests Harvey. Against all hopes, the angel actually backs off, and he can breathe again. Just a little.

“You’re an interesting specimen. I don’t think I’ve ever met anything like you.” The angel cocks his head to the side, a thin finger tracing those badly bitten lips. It deeply offends Harvey to hear himself being referred to as a mere specimen- he is Harvey (at least, in this existence)- and his identity as a demon comes secondary to that.

“If I was going to be your victim, it would behoove you to know my name, don’t you think? I’m Harvey. Harvey Specter.” Annoyance is clear within his voice, but underneath it, there is an undercurrent of relief.

He opens the door and freezes. A frown creeps on his face and deepens as he closes the door behind himself. He shakes his head. Maria must have left the lights on again.

He places his keys onto the small table oposite the door and rubs his eyes again. His steps sound hollow in the hallway and with every step he takes, the frown returns.

There is somebody in the armchair, the back to the hallway, the pale glow of a cell phone’s screen creeping around the armchair’s edges.

Harvey stops dead in his tracks as soon as he remembers. Mike still has the key, he never gave it back when he moved to Seattle, and Harvey never asked for it.

“Mike?”

Harvey slowly walks around the chair as he takes in the sight in front of him. Mike has his feet up the footstool, he’s still in his jacket but his tie has been loosened a bit. He looks tired.

Mike slowly lowers his hand, letting the phone sink into his lap. His eyes are wide and glittering when he looks up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I–” Mike huffs. He briefly looks away before his eyes lock with Harvey’s again. “I don’t know.”

Harvey nods. He walks over to the liqour cart and fixes two whiskeys, one for himself and one for Mike. Looking down on his hands he notices that they’re shaking a little and he takes a long, deep breath before he turns around again.

He hands one of the glasses to Mike who slowly raises it to his lips and takes a small sip. He draws his lower lip between his teeth and worries it.

Harvey takes a swig himself and loosens his tie. He wants to sit down but he doesn’t know where. The sofa seems to far away, and Mike’s feet are still propped up on the footstool.

Mike looks up at him again, still worrying his lips between his teeth. Almost a minute passes before Mike speaks again, his voice far too small for Harvey’s liking.

“I need…” He falls silent, looking away for a moment. “I don’t kn–” He shakes his head so subtly it’s barely noticable. Then he looks at Harvey again. “Can I stay?”

Harvey takes another sip from his drink, letting the whiskey roll over his tongue before he swallows. He nods.

“As long as you like.”

He’s always thought it to bee a cliché, but as soon as he’s said those words, Mike basically deflates before his eyes.

“Thank you,” he wispers, casting his eyes downward so his lashes paint dark circles on his cheeks. He sighs. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed then,” Harvey says and downs the remains of his drink. “Come on, buddy.” He holds out his hand and waits.

It takes Mike a long time to look up again, and when he does, eyes glittering and with red spots on his cheeks, a sharp pain pierces Harvey’s chest and nearly sends him to his knees. He knows that, from this moment on, his life is never going to be the same again.

Mike stares at Harvey’s hand almost forever before he slowly raises his arm and seizes it. He nods.

“Oh come on,” Mike cajoles, leaning over and pecking Harvey’s cheek with a quick, fiery kiss. “Just a couple more questions and we’re done.”

“No,” Harvey repeats, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I mean, the movie quotes were okay, sort of, the playlist of our lives, too. But the whole ‘if we were items of clothing, then…’ already was way–”

“Just a couple more questions,” Mike chimes, and Harvey can feel a headache looming on the horizon. Kids are definitely off the table for the foreseeable future, he decides then and there as Mike continues to speak. “Come on, baby, just a few more minutes and we’re done and then we can go to bed and re-enact some of the–”

“No.” It’s the third ‘No’ from his lips in that many minutes, and that’s a first, even taking Mike’s feeding him various items of stale junk food a couple of nights ago, and that’s quite saying something. Harvey sighs heavily and with purpose before he reaches for pen and paper again. “I swear she’s doing this on purpose.”

He should have known. He should have known when Donna had handed them that goddamn package with that wicked smile on her perfectly colored lips. ‘Wedding paper’ she had said, and ‘you’ll have fun doing this, I promise’. “I hate her,” Harvey says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can feel a headache–”

“Come on, Harvey,” Mike sing-songs, and Harvey is this close to strangling that goddamn kid, he already can feel his fingers twitching. “Do we have to?” He knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. It’s just that ridiculous.

“Yes,” Mike nods, pecking Harvey’s cheek again. “Come on, we’ll be done here before you know it.” And then he has the audacity to wink at Harvey. Wink. At Harvey.

Harvey has to admit, though, that Mike looks really, really delicious with his messy hair and his rosy cheeks and those pink lips of his, so he grits his teeth, determined to soldier on. There’s got to be a reward at the end of this, something to nip his looming headache in the bud.

“What was the question again?” He says, steeling himself for what he already knows is to come.

Mike grins. Mike goddamn grins that stupid grin of his, which he knows damn well is Harvey’s downfall. One of his many downfalls when it comes to his finacé, and boy, does that fiancé know it.

“If we were donuts, which flavor–”

“No.” Absolutely not. Not even for Donna and his and Mike’s goddamn ‘wedding paper’. Not even for Mike.

“Which flavor would I be - and which one would you be.”

Harvey shakes his head again and draws a long, desperate breath. “You, vanilla sprinkles,” he says, making sure his voice sounds as desperately annoyed as he feels. “Me?” He pauses.

“Mocha chocolate”, Mike murmurs, stealing a kiss from Harvey’s lips, letting his tongue dart out ever so slightly only to touch Harvey’s lower lip with its very tip the tiniest bit. “Yeah, definitely mocha chocolate…”

Mike’s words flutter against Harvey’s lips like vanilla sprinkled butterflies, and Harvey can’t remember ever having tasted something that tempting before. Ever.

Maybe Donna isn’t that annoying after all. Maybe she’s a genius.

As he rises from his chair to pull Mike into his arms, pick him up and carry him to their bedroom to finish that goddamn donut story once and for all, he makes a mental note to never let her know and to send her the biggest flower bouquet in known history as soon as they get up tomorrow.

“But-” Mike tried to butt in, but Harvey shook his head.

“No, don’t. I get it, it’s pathetic.” Harvey was practically grinning. “But for some reason I felt compelled to blurt it out.”

“In the middle of your office, in the middle of the night. On the day before New Year’s Eve.” Mike said slowly. Harvey was mostly just feeling like a colossal idiot. Maybe this was what a mid-life crisis felt like.

“Apparently so.” Harvey buried his face in his hand for a moment. “I’ll see you after the weekend, go enjoy yourself.”

He turned to leave the room, but a hand closed round the back of his collar and jerked him back. He spun on one foot to keep his balance and all but crashed into Mike, hands coming up to his face as he found himself kissing the man who might very well be the love of his life.

He watches Mike’s back – right now literally (and a nice back it is), but also figuratively and Mike’s got Harvey’s back too – and recalls that the scowl felt permanent when Mike was in Danbury. Smiling is better.

An hour later his mind replays this moment and he smiles again at his desk. The epiphany comes suddenly. Paula doesn’t make him smile like this. She’s smart, but she doesn’t have Mike’s mind. She’s kind, but hell, Mike sacrifices himself to save everyone he can. Daily.

And Mike’s ass is nicer.

#I need something happy via @sorelh

Bonus : 

“Do you put out?” Mike asks.  

His tone is only half serious, because he knows Harvey will never follow through.  There is a line in the sand somewhere out there, and their teasing banter has always kept them at a safe distance.   

Harvey raises an eyebrow and replies, “Come home with me and find out.” 

Mike steps backward into the elevator, grin spreading on his face at Harvey’s challenge.  He gestures to the space next to him, inviting Harvey to follow through.

Harvey levels him with a look that says You can’t be serious. You’re calling my bluff?  This is what Harvey does.  He maneuvers his way to a win every time.  Call it manipulation.  Call it flirtation.  Harvey is an expert at this.  He will take Mike right up to that line of propriety until Mike’s face says he wants nothing more than to drop to his knees right here, right now.

Mike catches the elevator doors before they close.  “Well?  I’m ready if you are,” he calmly states making a subtle gesture toward his belt.

“Do you really want to play this game?”  

He strides into the elevator car and slams his hand on the Door Close button so that the doors slide shut giving them some privacy.  No one else is invited to this particular meeting of the minds.  

Harvey backs Mike into the corner using momentum and dominance.  He knows he’s got this in the bag… until Mike reaches up and starts loosening his own tie.  

Something about that motion leaps them to the edge of something new.  Mike isn’t backing down.  Fuck, this might be real.  Harvey hesitates.

“Don’t stop there, Harvey.  Come on,” Mike taunts. ”Close me.“

Harvey bristles, but the prickling agitation pools hotly in his groin.  “You don’t think I can?”

“Oh, I’m counting on the fact you can.”

Harvey forces himself to exude a cool demeanor, but internally he frantically tries to figure out how to get Mike to be the one to chicken out.  Mike continues to tug at his tie, stroking his hand down the length of it, but he is quietly freaking out that he’s a giant idiot for even starting this.

"I dare you,” Mike says, desperately keeping his voice steady.  It’s almost impossible with Harvey this close to him and looking at him like he’ll eat him.

“You dare me to what?” Harvey asks back, leaning close so his breath exhales across Mike’s cheek.

“I told you already: close me.”

A slow shark’s grin is Harvey’s reply.  “In order to do that, I’d have to open you up first.”

Mike nearly loses it then, locking his knees so he doesn’t slump against Harvey.  His cock has its own ideas, however, and throbs inside his pants.  To hide the evidence and to keep up the game, Mike turns, plants his hands on the wall, and shoves his ass back into Harvey’s groin.

Mike looks back over his shoulder in defiance, but Harvey is already sliding his hand across Mike’s hip. 

Harvey leans in again, forming his chest to Mike’s back.  Then he whispers, “Is that what you want, Mike? You want me to.open you up?”

It’s too much.  The feel of Harvey against him.  The flirtation that’s gone too far.  Mike forgets to play along.  His eyes squeeze shut and he takes a trembling breath. 

“This is happening, right?  Please don’t be fucking around,” Mike begs.

"I told you I could close you,” Harvey says, pulling away and moving to the other side of the elevator car.  

But Mike had felt the line of Harvey’s cock against his ass.  He’d heard the rasp of Harvey’s voice giving away how turned on he was too.  

Mike stands and smooths his suit coat down.  It was time to go on the offensive.  He licks his lips and watches Harvey’s eyes follow the motion.

“Not falling for the begging, huh?” Mike bluffs.  “How about this then.  I don’t think you’d know the first thing about opening me up.  You wouldn’t know what to do with a prostate.“

"You always have to go there,” Harvey grins, taking that jab in stride.  "And why would you think I wouldn’t know about milking every last bit of pleasure out of a person?“

Mike stifles a groan.  “From the sound of it I think it’s fair to assume you’ve practiced this maneuver on yourself,” Mike replies.  He blatantly readjusts himself.  

Harvey’s hands tighten around the rail circling the car.  His knuckles are white with his grip.  He arches an eyebrow, regrouping. 

“Do I need to demonstrate, rookie?”

“Sounds to me like we have another wager,” Mike says as the elevator doors open on the main floor lobby.

“Do we now.”

“First one to get off on their own fingers gets player’s choice for the rest of the evening.”

Harvey makes sure he has Mike’s eyes on him when he readjusts his own cock in his trousers.  “When you tap out, I win this game.”

“Speak slowly and enunciate,” Harvey rumbles, his own voice still thick with sleep and he feels a vibration of soft laughter against his chest.  Mike shifts a little, moves his lips from the base of Harvey’s throat.  

“Need coffee,” he says, and immediately his lips are back, moving slowly this time, like he’s got all the time in the world to press lazy kisses to Harvey’s skin.  

“You could go turn on the machine,” Harvey muses, shifting a little to allow Mike easier access to his skin.  

“That would require moving,” Mike says, clearer now, more awake.  And as if on cue Mike moves his hips lazily.

“Something’s moving,” Harvey notes and Mike grazes his teeth across Harvey’s chest.  Harvey’s hot, skin sliding across Mike’s, but he wouldn’t move for the world right now.  

“That was cheap,” Mike grinds a little harder and Harvey sucks in a breath.  Mike looks up at him through his lashes and then there’s lips against lips and Harvey presses Mike into the mattress.  

“You’re cheap,” Harvey quips and Mike rolls his eyes.  

“I’m not.  I cost you a lost,” it’s meant as a joke but there’s a worry in Mike’s eyes.  A worry that Harvey thinks that true, Mike has cost Harvey a lot, nearly cost him everything.  Harvey shakes his head slightly and presses his hips down to watch Mike’s eyes flutter closed for a second.  When they open, they’re bright blue and alert.  

“I’d pay it all over again if I had to.”  It’s a rare moment of absolutely honesty and Mike bites back a grin, curls on leg over Harvey and tugs him down.  

“Good.  Now, are you going to get me coffee or not?”  Harvey huffs out a laugh and leans down to kiss Mike, long and slow and lewd and Mike’s got a blush of red against his cheeks when Harvey pulls away.  

“Not.” 

“Fine.  Then sex me up instead.”  

It’s so good of you to take him on like this.

He’ll always remember Grammy’s exact words, and how her voice came out, forceful and thin.

“He’s my grandson. He isn’t a project - I’m not taking him on like he’s a stray cat. He’s the person I love most in this world. If he needed me to step into traffic for him I would. And I wouldn’t think twice.”

Mike thought he understood what she meant then, but he didn’t. He didn’t really get it, not until now.

Which is exactly why he’s about to throw himself into traffic for Harvey.

“You know maintenance is picking this up in half an hour.”

“You gonna last that long?”

“Fuck no.”

They’re on the couch in what is still Harvey’s office. Boxes with his records are stacked five high around them, trophies and signed paraphernalia bubble wrapped for the transport down the hall.

All it had taken was for Mike to tell Harvey he was a hoarder, and he had found himself on his knees on the old battered couch.

Mike: “I wanna quit.”

„I wanna quit.“

Mike lets the door fall shut behind him and leans back against it, closing his eyes. He exhales shakily and shakes his head as if to chase away a bad dream. His head hurts and all of his muscles ache. It’s been a long day and now Harvey is sitting there, right on his couch, and Mike doesn’t understand why.

“The job or me?”

Harvey’s voice is calm, yet there is the tiniest of pauses before he speaks and another one, even smaller, between the or and the me. It’s almost too short for Mike to notice though, and since his eyes are still closed he can’t see Harvey tilt his head nor that Harvey’s brows furrow just the slightest bit. He can’t see the tightness in Harvey’s jaws either, and Harvey is probably glad he can’t. He probably hasn’t meant to say that anyway. It’s probably the scotch that has made his tongue quicker than his brain.

Harvey sounds a little tired, and Mike can hear that for sure.

“I wish I knew how to quit you,” Mike whispers, a mirthless chuckle haunting his words.

Another pause, laden and heavy, before Harvey speaks again.

“Did you just quote Brokeback Mountain?”

Mike can hear the deep, deep disappointment in Harvey’s voice and it makes him ache.

“No, I didn’t. He’s my friend, Harvey.”

“He’s not your friend. He’s an addict. And this is what addicts do. The minute they start making progress they screw up.”

“Harvey, nothing you can say is going to stop me.”

Mike starts forward and Harvey puts gentle hands on his chest, pushes him back. He gestures between them and says, “When we started this, what did we say?”

Harvey means this, lawyers, but he also means this, them. Harvey hadn’t asked Mike to let Trevor loose as his boss, he’d asked it as his person, as his boyfriend.  

Happy Birthday, dearest @tastymoves!!!! Here - have this pile of schmoopy porn! And, of course, a great day! *smooches*

It’s Sunday, and Mike guesses that it has to be some time close to two p.m. when he wakes up in tangled sheets and with the sunlight streaming in through the gaps between the lowered blinds. His bladder is full, and even though the bed is cozy and soft and there’s a warm, sleeping body next to him, he has to get up and leave this king-sized paradise to relieve himself.

When he tiptoes back into the bedroom of the small apartment he’s been living in for the last three months, a temporary solution that now feels suspiciously like home, he stops dead at the foot of the bed and stares down at the sight in front of him.

Harvey is fast asleep, the early afternoon sunbeams painting a line down the center of his back, almost following the column of his spine. It’s a line that Mike feels a desperate need to trace, with his fingers, with his tongue, with the tip of his rapidly hardening cock.

He looks down his own body, and yes, here we go again. Mike shakes his head in amused disbelief. Not even during his teenage years has he ever been this horny, at least not that he remembers, and he remembers everything. Just one look at Harvey, just one thought of him, and Mike is hard almost instantly and ready to go. Even when they’ve just finished their last round a mere hour ago.

Harvey is just the same around Mike, at least usually, constantly horny and aroused, only now he’s still fast asleep and he doesn’t even wake up when Mike climbs back into bed.

Harvey flinches when the phone rings, even though he’s been waiting for it to do just that for the last hour or so.

They hadn’t known exactly when Mike would eat. Of course, the mealtimes at Danbury where set, but there’s always that small window if you’re dragging behind or on kitchen duty or just last in line because everyone else has pushed you out of the way. And then, of course, there was the issue of how much Mike would eat. If he were hungry or not. And then the issue of what he’d eat first.

So they couldn’t have known when exactly it would happen and how long it would take, and an hour or more has passed when the phone finally rings.

It pierces the heavy silence in Cahill’s office like an ambulance siren going off right next to you, and as much as Harvey wants to avoid it, he flinches.

Cahill lets the phone ring for an endless three times before he picks it up. He listens for a moment and then he nods.

“It’s done,” he says while ending the call and Harvey rises, his jaws clenched so as hard as his fists.

Harvey’s stomach drops when Cahill doesn’t get up immediately, and he digs his fingernails into his palms even harder.

“We have to go,” he grits out, his heart pounding in his chest so hard and so loud that Cahill has to hear and to see it. He has to know.

“Harvey,” Cahill says and finally, finally slowly rises. “You can’t be there before five p.m.. They will know.”

“Dr. Neeley knows,” Harvey says, biting the insides of his cheeks. He isn’t sure if what he tastes is blood or bile and he shakes his head because he really should be able to tell the difference by now. “Sean.”

“Harvey, we–”

“Sean. Car. Now.” Harvey tries again, a pleading note creeping into his voice, and he doesn’t even care. “Please.”

“Okay,” Cahill sighs and reaches for the phone again. “But we’ll wait before we go in.”

Harvey calls Dr. Neeley seven times on the drive to Danbury. He yells at him five of them.

When they arrive at the facilities, Cahill threatens to have Harvey cuffed to the car if he doesn’t stay put for another thirty minutes at least.

Harvey is this close to telling him that he’d better.

When it’s finally five p.m., even three minutes after, Harvey slams the car’s door shut behind him so hard and so fast that Cahill’s finger almost gets caught between the door and the frame. He doesn’t even look back.

He rushes through the door and into the reception area, his jaws set tightly and his most determined glare on his face.

“Where is he?” he demands and he doesn’t understand that the guard manning the reception needs him to specify who he’s here to see. He doesn’t have time for this.

It takes the woman ages to go through the damn procedures and it seems to Harvey that hours have passed until he’s finally in the shallow lit floors of the hospital wing.

“Where is he,” he demands again, his palms cold and sweaty and his heart racing even worse than before. For a moment there he thinks it’s the beginning of tunnel vision, and he feels like falling, but then he swallows and shakes his head quickly. There is no time for this now.

“I want to see him,” he barks and yanks free of Cahill’s iron grip on his arm. “Now.”

Dr. Neeley approaches him and nods. “This way,” he motions for them to proceed and Harvey reaches for his arm and spins him around.

“If anything has happened to him, I swear–”

“Mr. Specter,” Dr. Neeley cuts in and pries Harvey’s hand off of his sleeve. “You asked for this, remember? We drugged him. There’s always a risk.”

Harvey holds his breath. He feels scorching hot for a second and then ice cold. “What–”

“He’s fine,” Dr. Neeley says calmly, as if he were talking to a child, and Harvey wants to deck him so bad it hurts. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I want to see him,” Harvey says, and when Cahill looks at him he isn’t sure if he actually got those words out. “Now.”

Dr. Neeley nods again, opening the door to one of the patients’ rooms, and Mike is there, lying in a bed, fully dressed, on top of white sheets.

He looks terrible. Dark shadows painting his face and his frame far too light. His cheeks are sunken in and his hands twitch erratically. He moans low in his throat and his face scrunches up in what has to be pain.

Harvey is at his side in the blink of an eye, staring down on his unconscious form. His eyes fly to the monitor and then to Dr. Neeley, who nods once more. Really, does that man know how to do anything else but nod in that annoying, no - infuriating way?

“He’s going to be fine,” he says again and Harvey looks back at Mike. He doesn’t look fine. And even with those modern, high tech drugs you can never really know.

“I want to monitor his vitals for another thirty minutes.”

Dr. Neeley’s voice sounds muffled, as if he were talking through cotton or through a thick, viscous foam.

“Then he’s all yours, and he should wake up soon after.”

Harvey watches how Mike’s features relax and how he smacks his lips. They are dry and cracked, but they’re also not as pale as just a moment ago, so that has to be a good sign.

“Mike,” Harvey says and reaches out, his fingertips touching the back of Mike’s hand just very, very lightly. “Thank god.”

He tries not to do it, he really, really does, but he can’t help it, so he watches his hand reach higher and smooth Mike’s sweaty hair from his forehead.

“You’re going to be all right,” he says, tilting his head. His hand lingers on Mike’s forehead for just a moment longer before he straightens his back and turns around.

Cahill has his hand on the door handle but his eyes are fixed on him, and Harvey raises his chin. Cahill better shut his mouth.

“You should tell him,” the bastard says, and Harvey huffs.

“No.”

Cahill just nods and gestures for Harvey to follow him out of the room.

Harvey just shakes his head, and Cahill narrows his eyes for a moment, but Harvey doesn’t even notice because he has already turned back to Mike.

He doesn’t look as shallow anymore, thank god.

He will be so pissed when he wakes up and finds out.

“Mike, why aren’t you dressed?”

He is wearing pants, at least. But his feet are bare, his shirt is on but unbuttoned, and his tie and jacket are nowhere to be found. He’s focused on the phone in his hands, holding it so carefully, as if he’s afraid it’s going to blow up and shatter them both. He looks up, stares at Harvey like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“You’re ready to go.”

Harvey gestures to himself then vaguely behind himself toward the front door, toward the world outside their door, toward the people waiting in a loft for them a half dozen blocks away in their nicest clothes. Of course Harvey’s ready to go. It’s their damn wedding reception. The real question here is why Mike isn’t.

“And so should you be. I realize a wedding reception can’t start without the grooms so we hold all the power here, but it’s a little tacky to keep our guests waiting, don’t you think?”

Mike doesn’t respond, just sort of nods halfheartedly, eyes still fixed on his phone. 

“Mike, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…”

He can’t seem to speak. Whatever it is, he can’t seem to say it, and Harvey calmly steps forward and lays is hand on Mike’s wrist. Mike looks up at him, eyes troubled, scared…hopeful. “Mike…what is it?”

Mike holds out his phone, plays a voicemail on speaker so Harvey can hear what Mike can’t seem to say.

Mike. This is Heather. Look…I know we haven’t talked in a while or whatever, but…you have a kid. A daughter. Her name is Emma. I figured you should know. That’s why I’m calling. Call me back.

Harvey stares at the phone in Mike’s hand and keeps staring, long after the voicemail ends. He wonders what motivated her to keep little Emma from her father, what could motivate anyone to keep Mike’s child from him. If he’d known…Harvey doesn’t want to think about what Mike has lost, the things he hasn’t experienced with her.

Mike deserved better. Emma deserved better.

“Harvey?”

Mike’s tentative question brings Harvey back and he looks up, says, “Call her back. Tell her you want to meet your daughter.”

“Harvey, this is a big deal.”

He nods. “Tomorrow. Ask if you can meet her tomorrow.”

Mike shakes his head. “Why aren’t you freaking out? We just found out I have a daughter on the day of our wedding reception. You should be freaking out.”

“We were planning on having a kid, Mike. She just got here a little sooner than we were expecting. She’s yours. How could I freak out about that?”

“Because I’m freaking out about it.”

Harvey smiles. “It’s two against one. I think we can take her.”

Mike’s face seems to break and put itself back together, all at once. “I’m someone’s dad.”

“You are.”

Mike shakes his head. “We both are.” He laughs. “God, we have a kid.”

“Call her.”

Mike dials the phone, puts it to his ear, and Harvey walks away to retrieve Mike’s jacket, his tie, his socks and shoes. When he returns to the living room, Mike is just hanging up the phone, and Harvey lays Mike’s jacket over the back of the sofa, hands him the socks and shoes.

“She agreed to tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Mike slips on his socks quickly and Harvey reaches forward, starts buttoning Mike’s shirt.

“There’s something you should know about Heather. She has…problems. She might not make this easy for us. And I hate to say it, but there’s a good chance that what she really wants is money.” He takes a deep breath. “What if she’s…if she’s not…”

They both leave the unfinished question hanging there. It doesn’t need to be asked, and it certainly doesn’t need a response.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow, Mike.” He waits, tie in hand, while Mike bends, slips on his shoes. When he straightens Harvey slips the tie around his neck, begins to tie it with expert hands. “Tonight we’re going to go to our wedding reception. You’ll drink too much champagne, we’ll eat overpriced finger food, we’ll mingle just long enough, and then I’ll bring you back home, strip you down, and fuck you into the mattress.”

Mike’s eyes brighten and his lips curl up at the corners little by little until he’s full on grinning, until the weight has gone out of his eyes. He leans into Harvey, kisses him slowly. When he pulls away, Mike is only smiles, only happy, and Harvey holds out the jacket for him to slip his arms into.

iamgabrielmacht:

 The elevator passes he 35th floor when Mike turns around and reaches for Harvey’s throat.

Harvey chuckles as Mike straightens his tie, readjusts his shirt’s collar and smooths his hands down Harvey’s lapels for the fourth time this morning, and the rolled-up piece of paper Mike is holding in his left, lightly scratches against Harvey’s jaw.

„Ready?“

Harvey catches Mike’s hands in his and gives them a firm squeeze.

“Yes.” He cups Mike’s face with both hands, his thumbs gently stroking over Mike’s cheeks, and leans in.  “Yes, Mike, I’m ready,” he murmurs before he brushes his lips against Mike’s.

Mike closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply. He nods.

“Good,” he says, taking another deep breath, his hand still clutching the paper. He straightens his own tie one more time and squares his shoulders when the elevator comes to a halt and the doors begin to slide open. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He nods curly, just once, and takes Harvey’s hand in his.

Harvey can hear the paper crinkle even further in Mike’s grip, and an amused grin spreads over his face when Mike raises his chin ever so slightly.

They start walking at the same time, and with every step they take Harvey can feel Mike relax a little more.

“Too late to back out now,” Mike whispers as they approach the reception area and the receptionist gasps at the view of him and Harvey walking towards and then past her.

The hold of Harvey’s fingers around Mike’s tightens for a moment. “Wouldn’t dream of it, rookie.”

“You hate making a show,” Mike whispers as they walk along the hallway towards Harvey’s office, turning heads and causing whispers left and right.

“Mike,” Harvey says and stops dead in his tracks, almost causing Mike to trip. He turns Mike around to face him, gripping his upper arms firmly and smiling. “This is not a show.”

Mike bites his lips. “Well, technically…”

“It’s a display.”

Mike chuckles and his eyes glitter with mirth. “Yeah, it is – and it’s having a hell of an effect…”

Harvey looks around and everyone his gaze falls on quickly looks away, at least for a moment, hushed conversations die down and eyes and mouths are wide open.

“Yeah,” Harvey grins and takes hold of Mike’s hand again. “Now come on,” he says, nodding. “Smooth that certificate, you don’t want to show it to Louis all scrunched up and crinkled. And make sure that our ties are perfect one more time before he’s here.”

“He’s never going to believe us,” Mike sighs, still chuckling and shaking his head. He pulls Harvey into motion again, finally.

“That’s why we brought the papers,” Harvey grins. “And put on this show.”

“Display,” Mike whispers, the corners of his mouth curling into a bright, mischievous smile as they approach Donna’s cubicle.

Donna has half-way risen from her chair and is literally gaping at them. “Wh—b…” She tries to say something but no words come out.

“Got married,” Mike announces, waving the paper roll at her. “Yesterday.”

Mike sounds so proud it’s almost ridiculous, and Harvey has to try his hardest not to grab him and kiss him senseless right there and then.

Donna’s eyes fly from Mike to Harvey, and Harvey stops at her desk for a moment, pulling Mike close against his side.

“It’s true,” he confirms, raising his hand to show her the ring. “It’s all official now. I’m a married man.”

“Wow…” Donna sits down as if in slow motion, shaking her head in disbelief. But then, after a short while, her face lights up with a smile. “Louis is not going to believe it.”

“Oh,” Mike chimes in and turns to look at Harvey for a second, his eyes shining with joy. “We’ve made sure he will,” he says. “We’ve brought this,” he waves the marriage certificate at her again, “and we’ve put on quite a show when we got here.”

“He’s gonna be here in a minute,” Harvey nods, “and it wasn’t a show. It was a display.”

What seems like just a second later they find themselves wrapped in a crushing embrace.

Neither Harvey nor Mike remembers Donna rising and walking around her desk’s partition, but suddenly her arms are wrapped around them and she’s kissing their cheeks.

“Congratulations, you two,” she beams and surreptitiously wipes at the corners of her eyes. “I’m…” She clears her throat and sniffles. “I’m gonna go get the champagne.”

“Thank you,” Harvey smiles and pulls Mike into his office.