Play the Man

This particular instance felt like just a little bit of both.

“But there’s good crazy and bad crazy.  We’re eccentric Americans.  The good crazy gets us jobs and party invitations.  The bad crazy ends with you in Bedlam and a lot of very dead humans.”

Because Harvey had always been a smart man, but one place where logic was absolutely thrown out the window (along with reason and restraint and mercy and a whole host of other niceties) was a world in which someone had endangered his puppy.

Or touched his puppy.

If Mike was going to sound happy about being possessed, then Harvey would possess him without a moment’s hesitation or a heartbeat of guilt.

 Doing so in this particular moment, however, required a minor bending of the laws of physics.  With a low growl (too resonant for small human chests) he ceased existing in his chair and resumed existing while standing behind Mike’s, pressed up against the back - one hand wrapping around his throat with a perverse gentleness while the other pushed slowly down the plane of his chest.  He bent with that motion, curling in on himself until he could steal a kiss from the sweet mouth held exactly where he wanted it.  

If you wanted to feel me lick blood from your skin again, puppy-mine... all you had to do was ask. 

There was a moment’s pause then, in both thought and physical motion.

And if he looked specifically at Terry when he said that part, exactly no one was surprised.

Behind Harvey, Percy looked both thoughtful and amused; for those who knew her, it was a terrifying combination.  “Since you’re so excited to have him on board, why don’t you boys show Harvey about?  He’s going to be in and out quite a bit… wouldn’t do for him to get lost.”

For his part, Harvey shot her a pointed - slightly distrustful - look over his shoulder.  He hadn’t been in since a lot of the expansions, sure, but it wasn’t rocket science…  

Clearly. 

“There’s no way the two of you are related,” Mike muttered, eyeing Harvey out of the corner of his eye even as he spoke to Terry, his flattened expression shifting to something a little measuring, a little curious, and just a touch appreciative. He threw Terry a smirk as that sound advice was aimed directly at his friend, popping an eyebrow up for a second, but even though he was chuckling into the backs of his knuckles, he found he couldn’t keep his eyes on his roommate for long. 

He hadn’t missed the way the other man’s eyes kept flickering back over him, and he found that scoping gaze did something no one else had managed to do in a very long time: it made him feel light as well as pleased and curious, making it difficult to control the corners of his mouth as they tried to pull up into a smile that was…almost coy. 

You know, if it had been allowed out. 

That gaze also meant that when Percy ordered he and Terry to show Mr. Specter around, the reaction was not the tantrum she had perhaps intended. Mike snapped to attention, one arm behind his back, but rather than keep his head straight he tilted it to one side as he gave Percy a salute, finally allowing his lips to curl with a smile–

And if his eyes slipped over to Harvey Specter as he nodded his head and responded with a playful–incorrigible– ‘Yes, sir!’, well. 

He pulls back and makes a grand sort of gesture. “Harvey, Mike. Mike? Harvey. Don’t be scared, he only bites if you ask nicely.” There is barely a breath, not wanting either of them to get to much chance to think about that particular statement right away, before he was asking the next question. “How did Sis bully you into this particular position?”

“I do not bully anyone into anything Terje. Persuade often, coerce… Possibly. It’s not my fault that you’re still as weak willed as ever.” The words were like crystallized honey dripping off Thyra’s tongue. Sweet but rather sharp. Long eyelashes batted for a minute before a sort of chuckle curled the corners of painted lips upward. “Be careful with these two Harvey. If you thought Terje was a terror, the two of them are double the trouble.”

She leaves them with one significant look leveled at the three men. 

“Beg.”  Just as casual as though they were discussing the weather and not the circumstances under which he would give someone that kind of pain.  There’s nothing casual about the steady stare straight at Mike when he continues, though.  “I only bite if you beg pretty.”

Whether that had been intended as a statement for Mike - he’d seen that saucy lilt to the offered salute - or simply to make his cousin uncomfortable really wasn’t terribly clear.  It’s possible there was something of a two birds, one stone situation.  In either case, he had absolutely no trouble moving on to the next conversational point, hands shoved into his pockets in a juvenile posture which somehow still manages to be oddly charming. 

“No one bullied me.  I’ve known Percy as long as you have, Ter-Bear,” (now that one was a deliberate little jab, he’ll own that one.)  “She asked for me, here I am.”  His attention shifted to Thyra, then, offering her a nod and a crooked grin (and possibly a wink, but it was from the wrong angle for anyone else to be sure) before spinning on one heel and ambling his lazy way down the hall.

The stimulant wouldn’t do any good if he didn’t drink it, after all.  Why else would he have bothered?

Rocking back on his heels, Harvey waited patiently while the uniform officer on duty unlocked and opened the cell door, but when the motion had stilled and he got his first good look at Mike’s face he froze.  His face set itself into hard, unforgiving lines and in the space between one breath and the next he crossed the space between them and stood right in front of Mike, free hand taking a (surprisingly gentle) grip on his jaw and tilting his face so he could better examine the injury in question.

“Where else are you h-”  The cop behind him tried to step in with an answer and Harvey shot him a look that shut him up on the spot.  When he turned back to Mike, it was with a (slightly?) softer expression and he finished his question this time.

“I love you.” 

Mike forced himself to his feet as the door opened and made to leave the cell just as Harvey seemed to be coming in. Confusion and wariness flickered over Mike’s face with a hint of fear at the change that had come so quickly over the other man, his eyes never leaving Harvey’s face even as his own was turned–even as Harvey shot that quailing look at the officer who had started to answer for him. For a moment he was torn, blue eyes whipping back and forth between Harvey and the cop; it was perhaps an irrational fear, but he worried that answering Harvey would somehow get him into more trouble before he could get out–and yet at the same time…at the same time that softened expression brokered a surprising amount of trust. 

It was enough to have Mike working to recall the previous night’s events in spite of his uncertainty. 

It came in flashes: shots and smoke and half-dressed people, white lines and razor blades and ground-shaking bass, and then panic as the cops arrived. He’d been in no state to have anyone bust in on him, that much he did know–Trevor had talked him into taking more than he normally allowed himself–and so when the cops came for him, too, he fought back. He remembered a punch thrown and a punch received…he remembered being on his stomach….he remembered being slammed into something that now still ached in his ribs (that explained that)–

He remembered doubling over as a fist connected with his stomach, and he remembered the hands holding him upright from behind as his already sloshing and volatile stomach emptied itself almost immediately. 

“Ribs,” Mike answered finally, his voice low, his eyes still wary–though this time he wasn’t afraid of Harvey, but of what trouble his answer might bring him. His eyes flicked to the cop and back. “…Nowhere else.” He paused and then nodded to the side and added, “That will bruise.” Because he’d already opened the doors. Why not step on through? 

One more glance at the cop and Mike murmured,

“I might have been asking for it.”

Unless he cracks his neck to one side and then the other; there is no surer sign of building fury.

That sign, it would seem, has made it out beyond his nearest and dearest as ‘Danger Will Robinson’ at the very least, because the moment he saw it, that cop got about three shades paler.  Ignoring him (blatantly), Harvey reached out to hand the cup of coffee over to Mike and then turned (deliberately) to put himself between this cop and his client’s employee while extending one arm toward the open door.  “Go on, pound puppy.  Car’s waiting out front.  I’ll be right behind you.”

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URGENT; PLEASE SPREAD THIS WIDELY! According to the Associated Press, Hillary Clinton has already accumulated enough delegates to win and become the Democratic Party’s nominee for president. Please ignore this announcement, it is not true at all. They’re including unpledged superdelegates in the delegate count to misinform potential voters. The primaries are far from over. Neither of the candidates will reach the 2,383 pledged delegate threshold needed to win the Democratic Party nomination. There will be a contested convention.

The Real Math

(As of June, 4th, 2016) Total Number of Delegates Available = 4763

CURRENT Score Hillary Clinton = 1769 Bernie Sanders = 1501

Total Number of Delegates Required to Clinch the Nomination = 2383 Total Number of Delegates Remaining = 1493 Total Number of Delegates Who Vote on June 4th Through June 14th, 2016 = 930

No Candidate Can Clinch the Nomination Before June 14, 2016

Hillary Clinton Would Need 614 out of 930 Bernie Sanders Would Need 882 out of 930

Total Number of Delegates Who Vote on July 25th, 2016 = 719 (Democratic National Convention)

The Nomination Will Be Decided on July 25th, 2016.

Please spread the word, this must go viral! California voters deserve better!

Tl;dr: Ignore it! Keep phone banking and donating and volunteering and canvassing!

It shouldn’t have been funny, but Harvey’s puppy just couldn’t help himself: the situation was far too ridiculous–and he had a weakness for sass. 

This particular instance felt like just a little bit of both.

“But there’s good crazy and bad crazy.  We’re eccentric Americans.  The good crazy gets us jobs and party invitations.  The bad crazy ends with you in Bedlam and a lot of very dead humans.”

Because Harvey had always been a smart man, but one place where logic was absolutely thrown out the window (along with reason and restraint and mercy and a whole host of other niceties) was a world in which someone had endangered his puppy.

Or touched his puppy.

"You tried to give Thomas a high five yesterday."