Chapter Text
Mike is in trouble. He doesn't consider himself easily fazed - in fact, he knows that he isn't. Would be tough luck with the way his life has turned out so far. Leaving aside the loss of his parents, getting kicked out of college, and the entire drug dealing affair with Trevor, he is the man who got hired after revealing a suitcase full of pot to a guy he didn't know he'd be interviewed by for a job he hadn't studied for.
So, no, Mike isn't easily fazed at any rate. He works as a lawyer in one of New York's best law firms with the city's best closer as his mentor and... maybe-not-quite-but-kind-of friend. Or something. So far he has managed to ditch any difficulties, coming out on top of every obstacle concerning his missing degree and the generally tumultuous life at Pearson Hardman. He has not just survived Harvey Specter's demanding mentoring, he has thrived under it. Even more of an achievement, as some would certainly say, he has managed to build a relationship with the man that is unlike any other he has. Even Mike himself can't define it, and he is half of the parties involved.
There is of course the level of boss and employee, of mentor and student. Then there's the one he is a little unsure of, doesn't quite know what to call. Mike certainly considers Harvey a friend, a good one at that. One of the best and most important he has, in fact. He's just not sure whether Harvey sees him the same way. Not that it really matters, but he does wonder.
And then there is the level that Mike doesn't even want to think about, let alone name. The one that is completely inappropriate yet just can't be helped, no matter how hard he tries (and tried he has, because having these kind of thoughts about your boss is just not very good at all).
It's not that Mike can't admit to himself that he is attracted to Harvey. He is an attractive man, anyone can see that. He might be ten years older than Mike, but those years only add to his appeal as far as he's concerned. The muscular build of his body, highlighted by a bespoke suit every day without fail, is alluring on the best days and downright distracting on the worst. His face is unique and torturously attractive enough for Mike to have a love-hate-relationship with it, with its singularly shaped lips that he would just love to taste some days and those eyes, those damn expressive deep eyes that can devastate or build him up with a single look, and it's really not fair for someone to have that much power over him, but it's not like he knows what to do about it.
Alright. Fine. Mike isn't going to lie to himself; he is a realist, and he is attracted to his boss. But that's all there is to it. Or rather, all there was to it. It was an innocent enough crush. Nothing that was keeping him awake at night, rather lingering at the back of his mind, always, a constant presence he was well aware of but could just as well work around, thank you very much. Despite his lack of an actual degree, Mike is a professional. He had it all under control.
And then. Then Harvey Specter went and smiled. Not his usual smile, the one he displays for clients and colleagues. Not the flirty one he sometimes gives Donna or some particularly interesting clients – men and women alike, Mike can't help but notice (not that he pays attention to that). Not the sarcastic curl of his lips when he tells Louis off, or chastises Mike for his mistakes.
No, it was a genuine smile, real and honest, lighting up his entire face as an almost childlike joy took over his features, crinkling the lines around his eyes, splitting his lips widely, making him look ten years younger in an instant. It was a smile Mike had never seen before, and it caught him so off guard that his lungs momentarily forgot how to draw breath. Harvey, unaware of the life-threatening effect he was having on his associate, had continued to look like he didn't have a single care in the world. Look at Mike of all people.
Harvey Specter is going to be the death of him, Mike is quite certain of that. Without even putting any effort into it. He just does that.
Usually it's not that bad. Mike has survived every look and every glimpse of his body he shouldn't have gotten, every other smile and wink and flirtatious expression, always directed at other people after all. But then Harvey smiled at him, and Mike's entire world seemed to freeze for one moment as he looked into those hazel eyes that stared right back, not sharp and cutting or calculating as usual, but open and amused and so alluring that Mike thought he might drown in them, would have done so if it came to it, no question. Harvey asked, Mike delivered. That was how it went. But now Harvey wasn't asking anything. There was a moment, and it was just them and that beautiful smile and their lingering gazes, and that was when Mike knew that he was in trouble.
He was aware that he'd been staring, that his face probably betrayed his every emotion, that his troubled breathing might not go unnoticed, but he didn't care. He just looked, wanting to absorb this moment, the image of Harvey's face displaying that beautiful, heart-stopping smile, with every fiber of his being.
And Harvey hadn't looked away either.
Mike groans and buries his face in his hands. The smile happened yesterday, nearly twenty-four hours ago, and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it, the image appearing in front of him unbiddenly every time he closes his eyes. He is in so much trouble.
It's not like he can just take some time off from Harvey to clear his head and return his focus to work. Harvey is the work. And as an associate for Pearson Hardman, Mike is lucky if he has a sixty hour week anyway. Getting away is impossible, and if he is honest then he doesn't really want to anyway. Because he loves his job, and he loves Harvey – in whatever way – and he loves that smile, so much so that it's now permanently etched into his perfect memory.
He has no idea what he is going to do.
He has barely seen Harvey today, and he doesn't know if that is better or worse. On one hand, he doesn't have to face him just yet and pretend that everything is as usual before he manages to regain his composure. On the other, his brain seems all the more adamant to remind him of the image he was blessed with yesterday.
It just won't leave him alone. Mike knows, he knows with absolute certainty that this is not something that is just going to go away. So he decides, and he really doesn't know if this is one of his better or worse ideas, that he is going to see Harvey smile at him like that again, and if it's the last thing he does.
Though it might take a while. When Mike goes to see Harvey about a file he isn't smiling at all, on the contrary. His forehead is creased with deep lines, a tight frown having taken hold of him so thoroughly it is hard to imagine that this is the same face that lit up Mike's entire world just yesterday.
The trouble is that Mike still wants to touch it. Still thinks it's beautiful, and striking, and worthy of being saved to his memory in perfect detail. He still wants to run his thumbs over his cheeks and smooth the deep lines with his fingers until they disappear.
Mike has got it bad. Absently playing with the folder in his hand, he gnaws on his lip, not noticing his mind drifting until Harvey's voice cuts through the prolonged silence.
“Did you just have an epiphany that's going to save our asses in court tomorrow or is there another reason why you're doing nothing right now?”
Mike flushes, unable to help feeling caught at Harvey's sharp tone. He isn't even looking up from his file, which Mike takes as a clear sign that there is more than enough work to be done, and he instantly feels bad. “Er, no, sorry.”
“Then I suggest you get back to doing something right about now. I don't pay you to sit around.”
“Right.” Mike shuts the file and rises from his seat. “I'll go through the contracts again.”
“Don't let me keep you,” Harvey dismisses him dryly, still not looking up. Mike resists glancing at his face again and leaves. He is determined to return only once he has found something they can use. There must be something, there always is.
He is right. Of course there is. Mike finds it shortly before midnight, and he knows Harvey can hear it in the sound of his steps because his head lifts even as he approaches the office. His eyes are slightly reddened from the dim light and the long hours of staring at paperwork. He gives him an expectant look, quirking an eyebrow, and Mike hands over his file with the hint of a smile.
“Found the loophole.”
Harvey skims the highlighted bits, then looks up. “This is fantastic,” he says, and Mike lets the praise wash over him like a warm shower.
“I knew there was something,” he replies with a shrug, trying not to let show how pleased he is.
“I knew you would find it, if there was,” Harvey says and gives him a smile. It's not quite like the one that turned Mike's world upside down, but it's good. Very good. It's a private smile, a genuine if small one. It's just for Mike, because he earned it, because he did well and Harvey is happy with him, and Mike's chest swells with pride. It's a start, he decides, carefully filing the memory of this particular smile away to examine thoroughly later. “Good work, pup. Go home now. I need you in good shape tomorrow.”
“Yeah, alright.” Mike turns and heads towards the door before looking back over his shoulder. “You'll get some sleep too, right? You look done in.”
Harvey glances up, momentarily seeming surprised before letting his features soften into something that is close enough to a smile to count. Mike silently rejoices; it was a risk and he is more than happy with the result.
“I will,” Harvey promises. “Good night, Mike.”
“Night, Harvey,” Mike replies before heading to his cubicle to grab his things, a smile lingering on his lips as he heads out.
* * *
Mike has no trouble sleeping that night. He has rather a bit more trouble waking up after a dream that he is almost certain involved him and Harvey doing something together, though of no sexual nature whatsoever, only to discover that he is hard as a rock. Naturally.
He sighs and opts for a cold shower. He is in deep, yes, but he isn't far enough yet to stop feeling guilty about touching himself to thoughts of his boss/mentor/friend/whatever. He is late as it is anyway.
Harvey is in a relatively good mood when Mike meets him at the office, and he is glad for it. It means that the case is manageable, and that's all that matters to Harvey, to get what he wants. And he usually does.
Mike resolutely bans any wishful thinking about what he wants Harvey to want from his mind and tries to focus on the case, hoping to get another smile out of it once they win (and they will, he is certain of that. His faith in Harvey is unshakable). And it is a good thing he does focus, because the case is a ride, but Harvey is brilliant as always and he doesn't just break down the wall they've been backed against but positively destroys it, and Mike loves it. Loves him.
It's a big word, love, but Harvey is a big person, metaphorically, and if Mike is honest then he deems it the most fitting term to describe his feelings for the man.
Harvey smiles at him when they leave the courtroom, and it's his winner smile, not the one Mike yearns for, but his eyes linger on Mike's face and his features are striking in that satisfied smirk, and he'll take it. Good god, Mike will take it.
It's almost a week later when he sees his chance to tickle another big, real smile out of his boss. It's only Wednesday, but they've been buried in so much work that they feel like it's well into the weekend. When Mike leaves late in the evening, Harvey's lights are still on. When he returns long before eight in the morning, he is already there. They are busy with three cases at the same time, and while only one of them is urgent on Monday, it's suddenly all three of them by Wednesday. Even Harvey looks tired and worn out, and that is the crucial factor for Mike to start worrying.
It only takes a quick chat with Donna to confirm what Mike already suspects. When Harvey isn't going out for lunch or dinner with a client he is at the office, and when he is at the office he doesn't eat. There are no empty takeaway boxes, no wrapping papers or plastic bags that hint at food having entered the office recently. It might just be Mike's overactive imagination, but he thinks there is a certain haggard quality to Harvey's features, and that is simply unacceptable.
As he always does when in need of advice, he calls his grandmother. She is more than happy to help out with the tentative plan he has made and gives him all the instructions he needs. And so, after a fifteen hour day at the office, Mike gets to work. He falls into bed tired but accomplished a few hours later, packing the results into his bag carefully the next morning to make sure that they won't break.
He comes into the office early and works in record time, managing to dodge another workload that would have cost him the precious half hour break he will need later on. He walks up to Donna when Harvey is out, checking if he has a meeting that night. He doesn't, which means that everything is going according to plan. He makes his call, then retrieves the documents from Donna he asked for and gets to work.
He just so manages to get everything done, seeing nothing but letters in front of him when he closes his eyes, but it's well worth it. He meets the delivery man downstairs, not running into anyone on his way back upstairs – not surprising, as most people have gone home hours ago.
Harvey doesn't even look up when Mike enters the office.
“I can't help you.”
“No, but I can help you.”
Harvey lifts his head at that, his eyes immediately falling on the plastic containers stacked on Mike's arms. He lowers them on the table carefully, then holds out the arm that isn't pressing a file to his side as if to say, surprise!
Harvey blinks at him. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Feeding you. Since, you know, you aren't taking care of that yourself.”
Harvey lowers his file in disbelief. When he realizes that Mike is serious he sits back, speaking very deliberately, as though Mike might not understand it otherwise, “Your care for my wellbeing is touching, kid, but I've got work to do. If I had time for an impromptu picnic, I wouldn't be here.”
“No, you don't,” Mike says with a smile, ignoring the second statement to hand him the file he kept under his arm. “The contracts you had on your list, all worked through and sorted alphabetically. I couldn't take care of the funds as well, but this should clear you for half an hour. And I insist that you spend it with me and all this delicious, hot, spicy food.”
He opens the lid of one of the boxes, smiling in satisfaction when Harvey's eyes are drawn to the meal as the scent fills the office. He looks at the food, then at Mike, then back to the food. Mike wiggles his eyebrows as he waits.
Finally, Harvey nods and says, “Well, what are you still standing there for then? Come and sit down.”
“Awesome!” Mike grins and drops onto a seat. “So, I ordered your favorite from that Thai place two blocks away, and then I took the liberty of getting a few more side dishes to try out...”
While Mike explains the contents of the different boxes he glances at Harvey out of the corner of his eye, unable to keep the smile off his face at the sight of him. He is listening to Mike silently, an expression of calm fondness on his face. He looks soft like this, all the troubles of the week forgotten. He looks accessible. Touchable.
Not that Mike is going to touch him. But god, he wants to.
“That's quite the selection,” Harvey remarks when Mike is done and reaches for the curry. He goes for the box with the spring roles and picks one up with his fork.
“Only the best for Harvey Specter,” Mike replies easily.
They begin to eat, and to Mike's delight, Harvey is even willing to stray from the work to more personal topics. They chat about his baseball days and Mike's old high school, Harvey's condo and Mike's grandma.
Talking to Harvey is so easy. It sometimes worries Mike just how easy it can be, when he isn't mad at him for screwing something up or orders him around. He never feels like he can't talk to Harvey about something, no matter how personal or trivial. Should it be this easy to talk to your boss? Should it feel like talking to a friend, or someone very close to you? Mike thinks that he probably knows the answer to that, but he is glad for the fact that it does anyway.
By the time they are done most boxes are more than just half-empty, and Harvey is sitting back in his seat, a hand on his belly and a relaxed smile on his face. It's beautiful. Enchanting. His plan has been a raging success, and Mike just got his reward in the shape of Harvey's lips pulled upwards ever so slightly.
But Mike isn't done yet. He has another ace up his sleeve.
Harvey's gaze has drifted to his music collection as Mike closed the boxes, showing no sign of intending to go straight back to work, but he looks up at the treacherous rustling of the bag in Mike's hands. His eyebrows lift as Mike holds it out to him.
“Cookies?” he asks, looking dumbfounded for a precious moment. Mike can't help but smile.
“My grandma's recipe. They are the best, or at least they are when she makes them, but I think they turned out fairly decent for my first time.” He shakes the bag. “Try one.”
Mike wouldn't go as far as calling the state of his boss speechless, but the look he gives him is nevertheless something he is going to cherish for a very long time. Harvey takes a cookie as instructed. He inspects it like it's a piece of jewelry, then bites off a piece.
“Oh my god,” he lets out. His eyes snap to Mike. “What have you done?”
Mike grins, making a mental note to thank his grandma properly. “Good?” he asks innocently.
“You know damn well that they are. I didn't know you could bake.”
“It's the recipe. Grammy always used to make these for me when I was a kid and wasn't feeling well. You wanna know the secret?” Mike glances around conspiratorially, then gives him a meaningful look and mouths, “Triple chocolate.”
Harvey raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed, before ogling the bag in Mike's hands. Mike grins at the poorly concealed want in his features.
“Go on, have another. There's more than enough.”
Harvey shoots him a look, his eyes seeming to say seriously? loud and clear, but Mike is not backing down, and he can pinpoint the exact moment Harvey gives in and decides to just fuck it. The corner of his mouth lifts as he leans in, looking just a bit like a child at Christmas.
“Well, if you insist,” he remarks, reaching into the bag with a smile, and Mike just so resists jumping up and down in victory. God, this was worth the two hours in the kitchen last night. It looks adorable, radiating fondness and affection, and Mike basks in it.
“So,” Harvey says after swallowing down the second cookie, already reaching for the third, “just so we're clear, let me rephrase that. You went to your grandma specifically to ask her for this recipe. The recipe for the cookies she used to make you when you weren't feeling well. In order to be able to give them to me.”
Mike feels his face flushing at Harvey's attentive gaze, but he refuses to budge. “Yep, sounds about right.”
He almost expects a taunting remark, but it fails to come. Instead Harvey looks surprised, almost touched, and Mike suddenly has trouble swallowing. “What, no witty comment about how it seems like I care?” he asks in an attempt to fill the sudden quiet.
“Nah, I know you by now, Mike. It doesn't just seem like you care, you do. That's always been what stood out about you.”
Mike swallows. “Has it?”
Harvey gives him a long look. “Yes,” he says finally. “Although I will admit that it is... charming to see that care extended to me.”
Mike's breath hitches. The statement itself is casual enough, but the expression in Harvey's eyes suggests that the sentiment runs much deeper than a simple offhand remark. The thought makes him feel hot all over. He runs his sweaty palms over his pants.
“My, Harvey, that almost makes it sound like you care,” he jokes, and Harvey smiles again, though it is a little softer this time.
“If I didn't care, you wouldn't be here at all, kid.”
And that is a true statement if Mike ever heard one. They finish the cookies in companionable silence, though Mike feels the underlying tension after the loaded conversation acutely. Their break is interrupted when the ping of Harvey's phone reminds them of the existence of the outside world, and Mike gets up with a sigh when it's time to let him get back to work.
Sadly they don't get breaks like this often; either Mike is too busy or Harvey is, and Mike doesn't delude himself into thinking that Harvey wants to spend every free second with him. So this was a nice change. It felt strangely personal, sitting with Harvey in his office at night, enjoying some time together while everyone else is already at home. There was almost an air of intimacy to it, making Mike shiver when he thinks too much about it. And the expression on Harvey's face he already memorized tells him that he isn't the only one who felt it.
“Mike,” Harvey says when he is almost out of the door. Mike turns around.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Mike's lips curve into a smile, and Harvey returns the gesture readily. Mike's heart jumps in his chest. Three in one night. He couldn't ask for more than that. “You're very welcome, Harvey.”
“Go home, you've done enough for one day. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure, thank you. See you tomorrow.”
Mike leaves the door open behind him, smile still firmly in place.