#king creates

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Suits (US TV 2011)

Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter, Mike Ross & Harvey Specter

The list of things Harvey Specter doesn’t ‘do’ is much longer than its opposite. Mike’s been compiling both since that day at the Chilton. The Don’t List, Item One: Skinny ties. Item Two: Paisley. Item Three: Lose.

The Do List, Item One: Be fucking awesome. And a little bit insane.

Pre-Slash early S1 Marvey, Harvey being a little insane, Mike overthinking everything. Rapid-fire disclaimers: I have not actually watched Suits. I’ve seen half of the pilot, read an inordinate amount of fanfiction, and formed some really strong (possibly misinformed) opinions on things. I was small while Suits was airing. I grew up under the rise of Marvel and the Hipster vs. Fandom war, which had no small impact on my narrative voice. I do not own Suits.

It's a beautiful wedding. No, really. Donna approved and everything. Too bad Harvey's not gonna remember most of it.

1 (don't leave) and 19 (sea change, or a radical shift in perspective). Implied Marvey, the Mike/Rachel wedding, hurt/no comfort edition. Abandonment issues!Harvey is my weakness.

---

There's a look Harvey doesn't like on Mike's face. It's taking him too long to place it. “We’re not coming back, Harvey.”

Harvey stops. Oh god.

“Rachel and I were offered a chance to run a firm in Seattle. It’s a place that only takes class action cases against Fortune 500 companies.”

Oh god.

“Mike,” he starts, there's no good end to that sentence but he has to start somewhere.

“When Donna came to me, told me the firm was in trouble? I did exactly what I told you I would. But I don’t ever wanna—”

“Don't leave.”

The words leave him before he can think better of it. It's the whiskey, or the lights, or the way Mike is looking at him, like Harvey's asked him to part the Red Sea and Mike just doesn't have another miracle in him and—

Harvey swallows. Pity, he realizes. It's pity, Mike's Look. “Don't. Please.”

Mike goes quiet, which bothers Harvey more than if he’d pushed back harder. He was ready to. Wasn’t Mike about to fight him on this? There’s no way Harvey gets to win this one that easy. There's no way Mike is splitting them up without a fight.

“Harvey,” he says, softer this time, and Harvey reads the apology before it forms on Mike’s lips. “This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.”

His whiskey's gone sour in the glass. Beautiful wedding. Til death do us part.

"Then you better go kick ass," he manages, with a smirk that's as pathetic as even asking him to stay in the first place. "Ross and Zane, big firm for the little guy."

The list of things Harvey Specter doesn’t ‘do’ is much longer than its opposite. Mike’s been compiling both since that day at the Chilton. The Don’t List, Item One: Skinny ties. Item Two: Paisley. Item Three: Lose.

29, something about Harvey. Technically a continuation of this (I swear I'll post the full someday). Marvey if you squint, early s1.

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They leave Rene's with a small army of garment bags and enough (wide, sensible) ties to hang a jury with. Harvey leads Mike down the avenue, hands in his pockets (because god forbid Harvey Goddamn Specter carry anything himself) until Mike stumbles into him at the crosswalk. Mike just barely avoids dropping any bags. Harvey barely avoids withering Mike to death with the little look he shoots over his shoulder.

“Keep up,” Harvey snipes, smile half-cocked. Then he crosses at the green without another backwards glance.

Apparently, Harvey Specter doesn’t do walking either (Item Thirty-Seven). Harvey Specter strides briskly through downtown until his destination arrives at his feet, leaving poor associates in the dust dragging fifty pounds of added weight in fabric.

“I can hear your mocking thoughts,” says Harvey, just a few paces ahead now, which jolts Mike like his grandmother’s elbow in his side to ‘fix his face.’ He fixes it a beat too late. “Penny for them?”

Oh, no. Mike is no lawyer (technicalities notwithstanding), but he can call a loaded question like he sees it. He gets so far as an “um” before Harvey’s look back (seriously, the guy says so much with those big brown eyes) makes him pivot quickly. “Nothing. Where are we going?”

Harvey smirks. Mike's both impressed and irritated that he can tell, because Harvey's turned back around and is gliding down Madison Avenue with all of the other midday shoppers with their phones up and their heads down. He stands above them, stands out, Mike thinks. It's the height.

(I'm ill. They make me ill. Take this snippet from a longer piece I'm chomping away at because they make me so ill.)

---

“Harvey?”

And suddenly the world snaps back into focus. Harvey nods at the blue tie (paisley, who the fuck still wears paisley?) in Rene’s hand and says, “Not that one. Try the green,” because no good lawyer is without a good poker face. Right. Kinda in the middle of something.

“Paisley’s coming back around,” chides Rene. He leaves anyway, to hopefully return with something less offensive.

“Harvey.”

Mike calls his name again, without turning around. Harvey’s just able to catch the blue of Mike’s eyes over his shoulder while he’s on the dias, arms spread, measuring tape hanging off of him like Mike’s just crossed the finish line. The mirror must add ten feet, because there’s no other explanation for the vertigo that suddenly washes over him.

“How do I look?” Harvey watches Mike say, in the mirror. There’s that little chin tilt again, that look. Like a challenge.