Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jessica Pearson

The first time she met Mike, she was startled by the man easily lounging on Harvey’s counter at 2AM. She observed him as he ate his cereal, Captain Crunch, she realized amusedly. His eyes drifted to Harvey, and his grin widened. As he hopped off the stool and helped her maneuver her wayward protégé onto the couch, she took in his blond hair and blue eyes; a classic beauty who smiled leisurely with a milk mustache.

“So, you’re Jessica,” he asked as he repositioned Harvey’s head.

Oh. So not a one-night stand, then. She assumed that when she saw how at ease the man was in the condo, but the fact that he knew her convinced her.

She supposed that twinky could be Harvey’s type.

“He talks a lot about you,” he continued.

She inclined her head, but didn’t respond. It was unusual that she was out of the loop, and she felt unsettled.

“I’m Mike, by the way. He probably hasn’t told you.” He gave her a bright smile, “Would you like anything?”

She shook her head, disoriented from the alcohol and the surrealism. Harvey had always told her to get her own drinks when she came over; courtesy was something they left at the office.

“I should go,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

When she glanced back, she saw Mike’s fingers smoothing down Harvey’s hair and murmuring soft words.

Harvey better not have married someone without telling her.

The second time she met him, she found him eating barbeque wings on Harvey’s couch. The Chicago White Sox were playing. He wore an adorably juvenile bib and looked sheepish, but not guilty when he saw her. Good, this wasn’t an obsessive and clingy fling.

“This must be how you met,” she commented.

He tilted his head.

“Oh, baseball? Nah, our origin story is way better than that,” he replied. Laughter bubbled from his mouth that he couldn’t contain, and he looked younger, if that was possible.

“Sounds like a story I should hear,” she prodded gently.

The blond quirked a brow.

“You know, it occurred to me that Harvey probably didn’t want us to meet.”

“Does he know that we’ve met?” her smile was particularly sharp.

Mike shrugged.

“It’s his fault that he’s always passed out when you bring him home.”

She hummed in agreement. Harvey wasn’t typically such an alcoholic, but this month had been tough on all of them.

“Where is he, now?” She placed her briefcase on the counter and joined Mike on the couch.

“He’s jogging outside; the Hammerton case has him really stressed.”

“He tells you about work?” She knew first-hand that wasn’t the best way to keep a relationship.

Mike tilted his head.

“He tries not to, but this one has him in knots.”

She nodded her head minutely and turned up the volume on the TV. They snacked on wings and groused until the game ended, when Harvey returned from his run. He did an about-face when he spotted Jessica on the couch.

“Welcome home, dear,” Mike waved. Harvey’s lips twitched.

“That better not be a ridiculous bib on you,” he warned.

“I like to keep my clothes clean,” Mike winked.

“Your clothes are an insult to dish rags everywhere,” Harvey retorted as he headed towards the sink.

“You say the sweetest things.” Mike was unruffled and stubbornly kept his bib on even though the wings were long gone.

“And you didn’t even save me any,” Harvey tutted.

“I did, but Jessica ate them.”

She raised a brow.

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t throw me under the bus, Ross,” she joked. Harvey’s smile was impossibly wide and bright.

“I might need legal counsel; she might sue for slander,” Mike nodded solemnly at Harvey.

“I’ve never lost a case,” she told the blond with a raised eyebrow.

“I know. I figured the smack down would teach him to be more humble,” he said slyly as he jabbed his thumb at Harvey.

Jessica raised a challenging brow towards the brunette.

“Hey! I’ve never lost either!” He may have pouted.

“I’m just saying that you had trouble getting your head through the door last week…”

“Because you put balloons there!”

“Irrelevant, counselor,” Mike addressed her.

“Your proof?” she asked Harvey, who flushed.

“There are still rubber pieces there!”

“Circumstantial.”

“This trial is rigged,” Harvey muttered good-naturedly.

“I believe you just admitted defeat,” Mike hummed.

“And what has my client lost?” Harvey replied haughtily.

“His dignity, for one. His winning streak, for another,” was Mike’s blasé answer. Jessica stifled a giggle behind her hand.

Some people had all the luck in love.

Jessica started texting Mike after that. She warned him if Harvey was neck-deep in work and wouldn’t be back until late, and he texted her about a loophole they found (she needed to file Mike’s confidentiality papers soon) when Harvey passed out before he could tell her. With his help, she had never been more omniscient.

Mike told her random news such as when she needed to stop by Porto's before her afternoon meeting because the bakery was running low on flour and wouldn’t have any products left after her meeting. Throughout the day, he texted her traffic updates, which allowed her to arrive at the courthouse on time and calmly waiting with the judge as her opponent ran in late. Between Mike and Donna, Jessica Pearson ruled Manhattan.

Harvey suspected, but couldn’t prove that she was using his… boytoy? boyfriend? roommate? lover? ... as an informant. Mike certainly didn’t complain since she paid him handsomely for his work. (Though she took Mike’s help with briefs from Harvey’s account because that was work and this was a guilty pleasure.)

Her favorite thing about having Mike on her side, however, was that if Harvey ever had any ‘morning meetings,’ Mike knew she would bury his body.  

The third memorable time she met him, it was because Harvey was sick. The smell of breakfast food wafted through the foyer, and on the couch was a suspicious lump of blankets. As she approached, she saw a tuft of Harvey’s hair sticking out of the cocoon, and a brief held in limp fingers.

She plucked it from him and set it on the table.

“Mmmmm-ke?”

She pet his hair fondly.

“No,” she said simply.

“-i-cah,” he grumbled.

“Sometimes he calls Marcus’ name,” Mike commented as he exited the bathroom with damp towels. The blond knelt by the couch and dabbed away the sweat beading on Harvey’s forehead.

“He doesn’t look like he’s heathy enough for briefs,” she waved her hand towards the stack on the table.

“Don’t worry; I proofread his scribbles. He tried to sign his name and ended up doodling dust bunnies,” Mike smiled as he pressed a kiss to Harvey’s forehead. 

He grabbed the stack of briefs at the end of the table.

“These are the slam-dunks that any associate could win, and these-” he took the slim stack from under the table, “- are cases that require a more delicate touch. Though I’m sure that Louis could handle them.”

“It seems that Harvey talks a lot about work.”

“He sure knows how to impress a girl,” Mike retorted lightly before he turned his attention towards a stack of pro-bonos and started typing on his laptop.

She blinked. Harvey would never take on that many pro-bonos. If Mike set them up for wins, however, who was she to pass on good publicity? Additionally, it was one thing for Mike to compare documents and find discrepancies with that brain of his, but it was another to be able to draft legal documents. She opened the brief on top and skimmed through it. It looked like any one of Harvey’s briefs, but now that she was looking at it, she saw the differences- a word choice here, a phrase there- that convinced her that Mike was the one who wrote these.

“Harvey should hire you,” she finally said.

“I’m not good at reading people,” he shrugged.

“It takes practice.” Jessica saw gears turning in the kid’s head before he let out a sigh.

“I believe in the infamous Harold.”

She couldn’t hold back her startled laugh.

“It’s for the best,” she said softly, “I don’t want to have to worry about you two in any closets.”

Mike snorted.

“Please, Harvey would never do anything to endanger his work reputation.” There was a sad tinge on the edge of Mike’s lips, and Jessica wondered if Harvey put it there.

'who’s Scottie?’

Jessica stared at Mike’s text and debated if she should tell him.

‘Ask Harvey.’

Famous last words.

Marcus

Marcus loved his brother, but Harvey was emotionally constipated. He was exasperated when Harvey invited him to the Pearson Hardman gala even though Mike had been in the living room watching Netflix ten feet away.

Marcus knew as soon as Harvey unlocked the door earlier that week that Mike was it for his brother, that Harvey would never find someone better for him than Mike. The blond greeted them warmly, abet awkwardly, pulled out a just finished lasagna out of the oven, and pressed ‘play’ on the paused Star Trek movie.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me you had a brother!” the blond cajoled from behind the counter.

“I was afraid your head would explode from this much awesome,” Harvey joked before taking Marcus’ bags to the guest room.

“You’re so humble!” Mike called after him. “So, Harvey 2.0-“

“-Marcus-“ the younger Specter interjected.

“Does that make me the Alpha version?” Harvey asked from inside the room.

“That means you’re glitchy and old!” Mike called back without missing a beat.

“…but…?” came Harvey’s hopeful voice. Marcus squashed down giggles. Mike shared an exasperated eye roll with him.

“But you’re everyone’s favorite, no matter how many other versions come along.”  

Marcus heard Harvey shuffle in the room and smiled.

“I think you got him to have feelings,” he turned to the blond who beamed.

“Like a real boy?” Mike joked.

“Disney? Really? Besides, I never lie,” Harvey declared as he came out. 

The duo pinned him with a stare.

“You said that you were ten inches,” Mike said coolly. Not expecting that train of attack, Harvey lost his composure.

“I am!”

“Keep on lying, Pinocchio. That wood needs to grow a little longer.”

“Oh my God!” Marcus shrieked as Harvey tried to shut up an unrepentant Mike.

“Marcus-“ said Specter had his hands over his ears.

“Marcus.  I need you to leave the apartment,” Harvey ordered with a completely serious face.

“Oh my God! I’m your younger brother!” Marcus fled through the door. Once the lock clicked, however, he burst out laughing. That was gold, pure gold.

He returned hours later to a freshly Febreez-ed apartment (Harvey pointedly ignored his look), and Marcus never felt more relaxed. Domesticity suited his brother.

Then Harvey asked Marcus to be his plus one, and Marcus wanted to throw his brother out the balcony because there was a prime ‘plus one/date’ candidate sitting on the couch. Mike shrugged at Marcus’ helpless stare, and he eventually accepted.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he misunderstood their relationship. Were they not dating? Just friends with benefits?

Or were the both of them just emotionally stupid?

Marcus learned from Jessica that Mike had never been Harvey’s plus one. He dug his fingers into the flesh of his palm and wondered what the hell was going on.

The next time Marcus visited, it was Scottie who greeted him at the door with no Mike in sight. He knew, knew, that his brother had fucked up because even if he and Mike weren’t official dating, Mike deserved better than to be kicked out for a college fling.

Who was trying to be more than a fling. Damn it; his brother’s life would make a killing on TV.

Harvey was a grown man and allowed to make his own choices, even if Marcus disagreed, so Marcus kept his mouth shut. He greeted Scottie cheerfully and hid his disappointment.

But when the hospital called to confirm his schedule tomorrow, he informed the pair that there was medical emergency and excused himself from dinner.

He headed home and regrouped. He had a plan.

First, he had to talk to Mike. He didn’t have the man’s number, so early the next morning, Marcus asked Donna for a favor while armed with coffee. There, he found out that she didn’t even know who Mike was, and she knew everything about Harvey’s life.

Marcus swore. If Harvey fucked this up beyond repair, Marcus was going to disown him.

Marcus found Mike on accident. He’d returned from René’s with a suit in the works and spotted a blond messenger flying through the streets. Mike stopped at the light, bobbing his head to his music, and Marcus yelled, he voice drowned by the traffic.

Then he saw the blond washing windows on the building across the street from Harvey’s.

Again on his bike.  

Finally, as a customer grabbing coffee after a long day.

“Mike,” he said softly. The blond looked up and smiled weakly.

“Marcus! I didn’t you know you were back in town,” he sipped his drink. Marcus mapped the bags under his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you around,” he started carefully.

Mike raised a shoulder and let it drop.

“I’ve been busy,” he answered simply.

Marcus didn’t know what he expected. Did he want Mike to ask about Scottie? Did he want him to ask about Harvey?

Mike was subdued; he stared at his drink and may have fallen asleep.

Marcus mustered up a small smile on his face.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you any embarrassing childhood stories about Harvey last time.”

Mike’s eyes brightened.

Harvey owed him a ‘Best Brother Ever’ mug.

Donna

Donna attributed her accidental meeting with Mike as inevitable because she was Donna and that was ‘nuff said. If hard pressed, however, she was willing to admit that the universe did most of the work.

People tended to miss the little things, which often led to the best details, and it was these details that Donna was attuned to. At first it was how Harvey sometimes smiled more as it neared the end of the day, and at the time, she attributed it to him having a fantastic date. Then he handed her a coffee from her favorite café that had an hour long line and didn’t immediately ask for a favor, and she chalked that down to a fantastic lay.

Then it happened again, and again, and she realized that either Harvey was on his bar A-game or he was dating. Normally she’d put money on the luck, but this time... her gut (ok, perfect abs) told her there was something else.

She shoved the feeling aside because of the rumors of a foreign merger of the firm, but when Marcus rushed into the office asking about a ‘Mike,’ that unsettled feeling came back.

“I know many Mikes,” she bluffed, but they both knew that this particular one was special.

“Mike- Mike-“ his brow furrowed as he fumbled for a last name.

“He’s a- blond? This tall, um, blue eyes,” Marcus gestured.

Blond hair. Blue eyes. Male. There was no way she was going to find him without at least a last name, and even then that was stretching her limits.

“You should probably ask Harvey. He’s in conference ro-“

“No,” Marcus shook his head. “It’s… I- I can’t believe that you haven’t met him actually, not that it’s your fault, but-“ the younger Specter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. As much as she boasted, Donna couldn’t know everything, especially when Harvey was determined to keep things hidden.

“Why are you looking for Mike?” Jessica strode up to her desk.

“Jessica!” Marcus gave her a large smile, but the lawyer remained focused.

“Has something happened to him?” Jessica’s meticulously manicured nails tapped once on the files in her hand. Donna’s eyes narrowed. Jessica knew this mysterious Mike, but Donna didn’t? The only difference between them (when it came to Harvey) was that Jessica had an emergency key to Harvey’s.

Oh. Well, now she had her answer to the dating or series of fantastic lays question. Jessica must have seen Mike at the apartment.

“It’s-“ Marcus floundered for a second. “Scottie’s staying at Harvey’s.”

“Scottie’s back in town?” Donna needed to sharpen her heels.

Jessica pursed her lips. Her eyebrow twitched as she glanced at Harvey’s empty office.

She must have expected something like this to happen. Jessica Pearson took time out of her busy schedule to theorize Harvey’s future with a mysterious Mike.

“Let it go for now, Marcus. We need to deal with Scottie before worrying about Mike,” she ordered. The steel in her voice assured Donna that Harvey was going to have an ass-whooping in his future.

Marcus frowned and followed her, protesting.

Donna’s interest, however, was peaked.

She discreetly asked her contacts at other agencies if they knew any Mike’s matching the description. She managed to get pictures too, but even after ruling those that she knew for certain weren’t Harvey’s type, she had 157 names, which Marcus cut down to zero.

Not easily deterred, she expanded her search to those working in courthouses, but yet again, nothing.

She couldn’t imagine where else Harvey could have met someone, though. Did he have a secret schedule that she didn’t know about?

Not knowing nibbled at her, and just when she was about to break down and ask Jessica for a hint, she met him. She was in line waiting for a chai latte that she definitely needed before braving a Darby-fied office, and she looked up at the insanely cheerful voice at 6am.

Blond, blue eyes, male, but so were five other people in line.

Those other five, though, weren’t as adorable. The barista was younger than the other blonds, probably in his late twenties or early thirties; very efficient, by how fast she was moving in line; and akin to a human Golden Retriever that she wanted to cuddle.

Donna already had someone to cuddle, but figured that she could do a kind act for her boss before the sun even rose; he deserved it.

“So…” she squinted at the nametag, “Mike,” oh, that was odd, but not statistically improbable, “What does it take to get free coffee around here?” The blond raised an eyebrow and scanned her very carefully and politely before nodding as if she answered a universal questions (she frequently did, thank you very much) and started the foam machine.

He smiled as he finished her coffee and said, “Depends on what you can offer, Donna.”

Oh. Oh no. Did this kid have her superpower? She never told him her name. Did she find herself a protégé in a hipster café?

She sipped the finished product and moaned.

At least her protégé whipped up perfect coffee. Free coffee for life.  Score.

She decided to sit at a table as she ran the calculations. Although improbable, it wasn’t impossible.

“He’s The Mike,” she whispered reverently. The universe favored her; this was proof.

She side-eyed him, and the blond looked like he would be flexible, probably vocal, with long enough hair to grab. Harvey could definitely go for that.

Especially with legs like that. She almost whistled in appreciation as Mike came from behind the counter to grab more supplies from the back room. The kid must bike.

She had to head to the office though, and the café was getting busy, so she left but vowed to return, hopefully for lunch.

She returned for lunch, but Mike’s disappeared. She ordered a panini and resolved to come back the next morning.

He wasn’t there either.

She leaned across the counter and spoke to the girl at the register.

“So, when’s Mike’s next shift?” The girl blinked owlishly.

“Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not really familiar with him…”

Damn. She used up most of her good mojo to find him; she needed another miracle to find him again.

…Or a curse, because she must have killed puppies in her sleep for what happened the next time she saw Mike.

He was dressed in faded jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt and carrying a familiar briefcase. She didn’t see him until he was at her desk; she was too busy listening to Harvey’s intercom.

It was late; Pearson Darby was empty except for a handful of partners in their own offices and Harvey and Scottie. She had been about to pack up when she saw them in the darkened office, scotches in hand. Morally, she shouldn’t have listened in, but her instincts lit up, and they’d never been wrong.

Harvey… Harvey sounded so in love; it made her feel like scum to be listening. He poured out his heart, and Scottie was crying, and god, Donna felt like a sleazebag.  

Then Mike snuck up on her just in time to hear Harvey say, “I love you,” to Scottie. At his confession, Donna flinched away and cut off the intercom. She tried to pretend that she was packing up her desk only to find a briefcase that wasn’t there before.

She looked up at Mike’s face and wondered if this was instant karma from the universe.

“He left it this morning; I haven’t had time to return it,” Mike said softly.

Donna nodded numbly and put it in her drawer.

Marcus’ description of Mike and Harvey made them seem in love, but Marcus hadn’t seen Harvey spill his guts to Scottie like she did. Maybe he was wrong; maybe Harvey needed Scottie, not Mike.

She’d never really met Mike; how could she trust him with her oldest friend?

“It’s been a hectic week, and it’s closing time,” she gestured towards the darkened lights and empty cubicles. The least she could do was give Harvey and Scottie some privacy; there was no need to throw Mike into the emotional mix.

The blond nodded silently and left the building without a fuss. Donna watched him go and wondered if this would come back to bite her in the ass.

Before she went home, she gave the briefcase to Ray and told him to tell Harvey that he left it in the car that morning. Ray looked confused, but agreed to her instructions.

Mike

Mike thought about breaking off with Harvey, but he wasn’t a child hiding under the covers. Instead, he texted Harvey for lunch plans, hoping that they could talk.

Harvey agreed.

Then canceled.

Then rescheduled.

‘He’s busy,’ Mike convinced himself, ‘You’ll understand soon enough.’

So Mike worked and worked and ignored the loneliness clawing at his chest.

Harvey

Harvey had every intention of going to dinner with Mike, but then Scottie appeared with tears in her eyes and Harvey completely forgot about those plans.

After confessing to Scottie, he felt raw. He curled up in bed and made a mental note to apologize to Mike in the morning.

Except that in the morning he still felt like shit. He managed to make plans for dinner later in the week, and Mike waved away his apology with a juvenile emoticon. Harvey smiled.

Darby left Pearson Specter (Specter!) a mess, so he canceled on dinner again but promised that they would reschedule.

He didn’t reschedule, but Harvey was too exhausted to do anything about it. 

Harvey was irritated; he was hungry, tired, and drowning in paper. He made two associates burst into tears by noon, and Harold was told that he would be fired if Harvey saw him anywhere other than his cubicle.

His office door swung open, and Harvey was about to hand out a pink slip.

“Donna! What did I-“ his angry rant died in his throat when Mike greeted him with a ridiculous little finger wave. In his other hand were bags laden with greasy burgers and fries.

Harvey bit down the ‘I love you’ that he almost blurted out. Instead, Harvey cleared floor space for the two of them and dug in.

They didn’t talk, which Harvey feared would be awkward, but it was… nice. Mike didn’t push or pry; he stayed in companionable silence and cleaned up the floor after Harvey finished.

“Hey, I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your text. It’s-“

“-been really lax and you were secretly enjoying margaritas on the beach as I wasted away beside my phone waiting for an answer?” Mike teased. The knot in Harvey’s chest loosened.

“I would never be caught dead drinking margaritas,” he informed Mike sternly.

The blond shook his head amusedly.  

As the blond headed towards the door, Harvey spoke.

“Do you want to stay? We could have margaritas at my place afterwards,” he suggested with a waggle of his brows. Mike smiled sardonically.

“I thought you didn’t drink margaritas.”

“I don’t get caught drinking margaritas,” Harvey correctly. Mike thought for a moment before he shook his head.

“I have work in the morning. Thanks though. Next time?”

Harvey nodded because there was nothing he could do.

They drank together before Marcus’ trip to the Amazon. Harvey spent on the entire time staring at Mike from over Marcus’ head. Mike never glanced at him, and when Mike left, he hugged Marcus and waved at Harvey.

Harvey drove Marcus to the airport and ignored the worried glance his brother gave him.

The thing was, Harvey noticed the hole Mike left behind while he was still with Scottie. He fretted; he wondered how safe the bike ride to Brooklyn was, or if Mike ever bought a replacement coffeemaker. Sometimes he ordered pizza and had to stop himself from saying ‘no’ to cheese crust because no one was trying to argue for it.

Scottie and he had history; they had books of sordid tales together. She was challenging, exciting, in some ways, much like him.

Mike would have ribbed him about being a narcissist.

A relationship with Scottie would have been perfect. They understood each other’s hours, the ruthlessness, and the need to maintain an image, but they could return home, drink her favorite wine, and reminisce about their Harvard days.

He couldn’t do that with Mike. Mike helped out with cases sometimes, but Harvey tried to keep his work and private life separate when he could (though he could never do that with Scottie), and Mike was good. Mike was someone he wanted to roll up in his duvet and never let out; he wanted for Mike to never hear of bastards like Hardman or Cameron Dennis. If Harvey worked with Mike, the kid would pull in enough pro bono cases to cover himself and Harvey for the next decade. With Scottie, Harvey flaunted his clients and wins. He egged her on with society pages full of him and his femme du jour dates; with Mike, he wanted to rip those photos apart.

Scottie would never change him; Mike already had.

Then she told him that she was ready to settle down, and Harvey re-evaluated his life. He flipped through those society pages and imagined her in those photos. He remembered how ruthless they were when they worked together and agreed; Harvey Specter was ready to settle down.

Neither of them were dumb or reckless, so they proposed a trial run, where Harvey needed Mike out because having the potential fiancé meet the friend-with-benefits was setting the scene for drama and Harvey didn’t want to give Scottie any more material to use against him.

God, they already sounded like a thirty year marriage.

Harvey felt guilty, but he had no reason to be. He knew that Mike had his own apartment, and he told the blond that he was free to text, just that Harvey was going to be trying something new. He… didn’t know how to explain Scottie, just… “She’s amazing.”

Damn, Mike always made him blurt things out without a filter.

“Yeah. You guys are a match made in heaven,” Mike chuckled. Harvey’s fingers flexed.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he almost said, but stopped. He had nothing to be sorry for.

When Scottie left for London, Harvey’s first thought was that he could invite Mike back, not for sex because that was discourteous to Scottie, but because Harvey missed the blond. He spent so much time with Scottie that he hadn’t seen much anyone else, but he worked with Donna and Jessica, and Marcus was off-the-grid. He hadn’t seen Mike since before Darby.  

Harvey dropped onto the couch and sank into the cushions. He was so addled after his confession that he spent every minute afterwards drinking himself into a stupor. Jessica took him home afterwards, and when he’d woken, he hallucinated Scottie perched at the end and tutting at him. He grinned at her, boyish and relaxed, as if they were in Harvard.

Scottie would call him “Loser” and order an expensive breakfast for them. Mike would cook him a greasy breakfast that required nitroglycerin pills afterwards.

Mike never judged Harvey, didn’t mind when Harvey cuddled or when Harvey wanted to stay inside and binge watch Battlestar Galactica or when Harvey plodded around the apartment in old sweats and a decade old t-shirt. He didn’t have to keep appearances with Mike.

Harvey opened the door to a dark apartment to clean counters instead of take-out and a distinct lack of Chucks by the door. He missed hearing absolutely unacceptable music blaring from the bathroom as Mike sang in the shower. He missed being able to fully relax in his own space.

Harvey missed a lot of things, but he made his bed, and he was going to lie in it.

Days later, his feelings festered.

Harvey understood that what he did was shitty, but it didn’t warrant Mike disappearing without a courtesy call that he was alive. He kicked the blond out of his apartment, not his life.

At first he thought that Mike gave him the cold shoulder and gave him space. Harvey had, after all, ignored or stood the man up for several weeks. Then ‘a little space’ turned into stretches of time, into weeks before Harvey realized that this was more than third grade pettiness.

Mike’s apartment in Brooklyn was empty, and the landlord hadn’t found anyone else to take the space, so Harvey waltzed in. He touched the stove and knew why Mike never cooked, spied the grey view out the window and knew why the blond loved sitting on the balcony. Harvey trailed his fingers over the worn wood and molding floor and knew why Mike never invited him over.

Harvey wouldn’t have cared, though. He would have drank Mike’s cheap beer and ate his pizza with the same gusto as he always did. When he saw the black mold, though, he would have put his foot down and bundled Mike up and formally invited the blond to live with him.

There would have been a clear relationship then.

He texted Vanessa to send him Mike’s new address and resolved that this time there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to date, but he needed to know that Mike was okay, that they were okay.   

Harvey returned to his apartment where Jessica waited for him with pizza. She no longer gave him her Disappointed Stare #3, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since Harvard. He sat down wordlessly and ate the food she placed in front of him.

During the sixth inning, he broke down. Jessica let him cry it out, and when he was done, she cleaned up the table and sat with him. His breaths shortened and deepened; his heart thudded. Jessica tucked his head under hers as his shoulders shuddered and whispered reassurances throughout his panic attack.

“I need him back.”

She stroked his hair.

“I know.”  

Vanessa handed him a copy of Mike’s diploma. From NYU. Dated smack dab in the middle of the Darby takeover.

Harvey called Jessica.

“He graduated three months ago,” he heaved.

At three in the morning, Jessica sounded just as broken as he felt.

“Just because we only hire from Harvard doesn’t mean we can only date from Harvard, Harvey,” she joked.

When his startled laugh became sobs, she stayed on the line and told him about her wedding day.

Jessica

She knew that Harvey had kicked Mike out when Scottie was back in town, but she had been too preoccupied to delve any deeper into that particular problem. It worked itself out though, because Marcus reported that Mike still texted Harvey and that the blond was busy working too.   

Mike texted her infrequently. He told her that he had a new job that didn’t require him to bike around the city, and that he couldn’t help her take over the world for a while. She shrugged, replied with a simple, “Ok,” and went back fixing up her firm.

That was more than six months ago.

She heard about the briefcase debacle later from Donna, and though it bothered her that Harvey had been careless with important briefs, she was relieved that Harvey had spent time with Mike. The eavesdropped confession, however, that made her nervous.

Had it been her, she would have waited at home for Quentin or Jeff with a shotgun in her hand. She would have left their sorry asses on the sidewalk after scalping them for what they were worth.

Thank god Mike Ross was nothing like her.

Donna informed her that Mike and Harvey had lunch plans and that the blond was surprisingly calm, resigned, the redhead said. Briefly, Jessica wondered if she should text Harvey’s salary to Mike just so the blond knew what to ask for as an apology gift.

She pushed the matter aside; her firm needed her full attention.

She had faith in Harvey to succeed in everything except love, so she wasn’t surprised that Harvey fangled whatever he had with Mike. She expected him to sulk for days but to make up within a week because Harvey was one sorry bastard when it came to emotions, but he was great at fixing his messes too. What she didn’t expect was for him to have been under the impression that they were ‘friends with benefits’ instead of ‘one of those terribly romantic couples.’ The ‘Scottie problem’ suddenly made sense. Mike walking out also made a lot of sense, now.

“Even your doorman thought that you guys were married.” She couldn’t believe that this was her life. “You didn’t question why Dave let the kid up without buzzing you first? Or that your co-op gave him your subscription groceries?”

Harvey had the decency to sigh helplessly.

‘Stupid,’ she thought viciously.

The business portion of her mind rooted for them. She imagined flaunting them at galas, a handsome illustration for clients who wanted a family-oriented, kind firm. Harvey would charm those who actually wanted sharks as their lawyers, and Mike would charm those that worried if they were doing the right thing. She would send them to woo LGBT clientele or send them to deal with handsy women.  

Personally, she wanted them to succeed. She wanted to see at least one of the partners in a stable, loving relationship, whose spouse wasn’t suspicious of secretaries or clients, who wasn’t too upset over the long hours. She wanted a dream to aspire to.

She saw the relationship fall apart and business!Jessica decided that Pearson Specter didn’t need a power couple to increase their billables, but romantic!Jessica decided that there must be no such thing as happily ever after.

She once asked Mike how they met, and the blond laughed for ten minutes straight and never gave him an answer.

She watched his entire face light up, impossibly boyish, and promised she would wring it out of Harvey when she had the chance. She remembered thinking about her origin stories; the courtroom, law school, and her most outgoing, a fundraiser, and knew that those relationships weren’t the ones people based fairytales off of.

But Mike’s? She didn’t need to know the story to know that it was a story that would be passed among friends and colleagues as a legend.

Chapter Text

Jonathan Sidwell

Jonathan Sidwell knew that funding Mike Ross’ schooling would pay out in the end; his investment banker intuition took him so, and it was right. Within the first week, Mike brought in more money than any other new hire, and within a month, he was willing to adopt Mike as a surrogate son.

The news media frequently said that he only cared for money, which was the only truthful statement they’ve ever printed of him, but what they didn’t know was that he also cared about people who made him money. In essence, Mike Ross.

So, although he was touted as being heartless, Jonathan knew what happened in his employee’s lives. When he caught the second mistake that his current legal counsel made, Jonathan fired them and smoothly asked if Mike knew anyone worth his time.

“…Pearson Specter,” Mike suggested hesitantly.  

“Really? Anyone I should ask for?” he pressed.

“…um… they’re all good candidates. Jessica Pearson is the biggest shark, followed by Harvey Specter, but Louis Litt is their financial genius,” Mike reported with clipped professionalism. Jonathan was proud.

“Good. You can introduce us tomorrow night at the gala.” Jonathan shooed him away and grinned smugly. He heard that Pearson Specter was a force in the corporate world, but also that they were weakened after a merger gone bad. Jonathan had the final say, but he had a feeling that he would trust his protégé’s assessment this time too.

The night of the gala, Mike was a wreck. He shook nervously, tugging at his expensive tux and loosening his tie.

“Stop that,” Jonathan instructed. Mike’s hands stilled and his eyes flitted towards him.

“No alcohol. We’re here to work.”

Mike nodded sadly (goodness that boy was easy to read), and put the champagne glass down.

They socialized, and Jonathan had the pleasure of showing off Mike’s brain to Tony Gianopoulos, that sly bastard. There was no better insult than showing the man all the money he could have earned.

His high, however, was short lived. Jonathan saw Mike’s shoulders tense as he spoke to an heiress and followed the drifting blue gaze.

Ah, so that was the ex.

Eh. On an insensitive note, it was apparent that Mike also had the investment banker intuition because Jonathan would have definitely invested in that.

Harvey

Harvey wasn’t proud of how he acted when he saw Mike again. Mike looked… amazing. He wore a fitted suit that showed off the lines to his body, and it wasn’t René’s work, but comparable. God, it felt so good to see Mike again, even if it was at a stuffy party and Harvey had been completely blindsided.

Investment banker.

Wow. At least the kid could afford to eat more than pizza, now.

Secretly, Harvey was proud of the blond. He knew of Mike’s past, and seeing him finally on track made a smile bubble at the corner of his mouth.

It also stoked his ego; Harvey Specter picked the best in everything.

Well, best at everything except for emotions because he was shit at those. Harvey watched as Mike shoulder-bumped Sidwell and jealously flared in his chest, but he squashed it down; he had no right to be angry. He turned towards Mr. Edgar, tycoon of something or another, and tried to forget how bright those blue eyes looked under the crystal lights.

He ignored the blonde bombshell making passes at him, too focused on if the shadows under Mike’s eyes were tricks of the light or if he hadn’t been sleeping well.

“Mr. Specter,” the blonde pouted. Harvey apologized, gave her a peck on the hand, and wandered towards Jessica.

The kid liked pizza, maybe he kept eating it; did he even know what vegetables were? What kind of mentor was Sidwell if he couldn’t even keep his protégé checked and free of scurvy?

“Any luck?” Jessica asked.

Harvey hummed.

“Some.” There was a couple who were looking for better representation after their kids tried to rob them financially.

Was Mike still riding that ridiculous bike? If he was, Harvey should steal it; the blond could afford taking cabs. That would be the safest option.

Harvey stole a glance at the man, who he’d made sure was always in his peripheral. Mike sipped at his water, which made Harvey grin; the puppy was leashed.

‘Maybe I should follow his lead,’ he thought distractedly as they happened to cross paths.

“If I would have known that you were looking for a richer boyfriend, I would have put in more hours,” he smiled, but… well, even as tipsy as he was, he knew that it wasn’t his nice smile.

Jessica, who must have followed him as he teleported to Mike’s side (because when the fuck did he get there?), stiffened and inched her heels closer to his toes.

“You’re still a grade A asshole,” Mike sighed. His eyes were steely. Sidwell placed a hand on Mike’s back (when the fuck did he get there?) to prevent him from leaving and held out his hand, which Jessica shook.

“Jonathan Sidwell.”

“Jessica Pearson.”

Sidwell smiled brightly and gestured towards Mike.

“SIG is seeking new representation, and Mike, here, suggested Pearson Specter.”

Harvey’s heart stilled and glanced at the blond who shifted uncomfortably. The brunet's jaw muscle twitched, which Jessica took as a sign that he was about to respond crudely.

She was right, and ouch, that was a sharp heel to his toes.

Mike noticed the tension and beat a hasty retreat. He gave an apologetic smile towards Jessica and Sidwell before he sent a nasty counterpart to Harvey.

When he left, Harvey took an inappropriately large gulp of champagne.

“You’re hired,” Sidwell told Jessica delightedly.

Harvey blinked.

Jessica’s shoulders relaxed.

“I’m glad that we could remain professional about this,” she gave Harvey the side eye.

"Well, if Mike could recommend an ex as hostile as you, Mr. Specter, Pearson Specter must be the biggest shark in the pond."

…well, the man wasn’t wrong.

Jessica dragged Harvey outside, hoping to scold him, but the man had a meltdown before they passed through through the last circle of guests. He chuckled uncontrollably, laughter that shook his frame and prevented him from breathing deeply. Louis caught up to them, and she shushed the shorter man quickly.

Her nails dug into Harvey's biceps as they made it outside. 

“What’s-“ Louis began. 

“We just signed a twelve billion dollar client,” Harvey blurted out with small tears in his eyes. 

“That’s-“ Louis enthused. 

“Twelve billion!” 

“Um... Jessica-?” Louis questioned. He was clearly torn between being ecstatic/jealous and worried for Harvey’s mental health.

“Client!”

Together, they stuffed him into a taxi.

“Go home, Harvey.” Jessica shook her head.

“What was that?” Louis asked when they were alone. She waited until the taxi turned off the street before replying.

“Harvey’s ego." 

Jessica wanted to strangle Harvey, though if Mike asked politely, she’d let him do it instead. The blond radiated barely repressed anger when he walked away and knocked back waters like expensive vodka. Sidwell meandered over twice to assure himself that Mike was sober and possibly not dying from over-hydration.

She promised Louis that she would brief him tomorrow, but for now, she drank to Mike Ross.

Louis

Louis had never heard of or met Mike when he dealt with the fallout. Harvey shook on his couch, gasping breaths as Donna held him through a panic attack.

“Hey, everything’s going to be alright,” Donna told him gently. Harvey’s hair came undone from the man’s fingers running through it.

“Yeah,” Louis felt out of his depth, “you’ll find someone better.”

“No,” Harvey glared at him, reddened eyes against a pale face. He clutched at Louis’ tie and sweat glistened on his neck. He was close enough that Harvey could see the whites of his eyes and smell the alcohol on his breath. 

The Harvey he knew would have never let himself become this disheveled, so unpresentable. This was worse than those times he'd been thwarted by Dana Scott, worse than every moment the brunet was in the same room with Daniel Hardman. 

Louis stared blankly at his friend and wondered how he could have missed the man falling in love.

Mike was Harvey’s Sheila.

Except Harvey had been the one to screw up, and was in no condition to make it right.

Louis backed out of the office in search of Jessica, but found her standing at the door.

“Louis,” she whispered to him, her eyes trained on Harvey.

“I need you to come with me.”

He scampered after her tall heels as she clicked towards the heels.

He didn’t ask her what was going on until they were in her car, and she told her driver to head towards the airport.

"Sidwell found a major investment in California," she explained. "According to Donna, Mike will be his point man there until the matter has been settled." 

Louis nodded. 

"And we can't let this 'thing' fester while he's gone." 

She nodded grimly to him. 

"Yes." 

They zipped through the midnight traffic, and when they arrived, Louis took a moment to snort at how cliché it was. The cab made it onto the airstrip while Sidwell climbed the steps to the plane. They hurried out. 

“Did I forget to sign one of the papers?” Sidwell asked innocently before continuing, “Ah, Mr. Litt. I look forward to seeing you work; Mike’s has only said complementary things.”

Mike was clearly Harvey's better half. 

“There is a matter which we would appreciate Mr. Ross’ aid with,” Jessica interjected smoothly.

Sidwell was nonplussed. 

“Ah. Well, I've been told that he is quite preoccupied." 

“It’ll only take a moment.”

“Is that so?” Sidwell raised a brow before his lips curved. "He's not with me." 

The two lawyers stared at him. 

What are we going to do  now? 

"He is, however, at the Chilton Hotel, room 1405," Sidwell informed them airily. 

Jessica scanned the windows for any sign of Mike, but stayed silent. Louis stuttered an 'Thank you.' 

"He could be lying," Louis whispered as Jessica gave the driver instructions. 

“I know." 

Tension ramped as the elevator climbed. Louis felt like his heart was bouncing out of his chest as Jessica’s filled with cold dread.

What if Mike wasn’t there?

1400…

1401…

…02, 03, 04…

1405.  

The door was unlocked, but the duo smelled the sweet scent baked goods.

“Mike?” Jessica questioned as she pushed the door open-

-and there stood whom Louis could only assume was Mike Ross, covered in flour and baking what could only be described as a penis-shaped cake.

“Oh, Jessica!” the blond replied with forced cheer. He returned towards his cake, frosted with what looked like buttercream but smelled like cheap liquor.

Louis sputtered, but Jessica’s smile lit up the room. Sidwell hadn’t lied. That was a good start to their business relationship.

 “I’m glad you took the confrontation at the gala well.” She glanced at the stack of cookies by the oven and the pan of brownies cooling on the stove.

Mike wiped his brow.

“Please. We both know that Harvey’s main defense is being a douchebag,” he snorted.

Good. Mike Ross already knew the worst in Harvey.

Jessica practically sank into the couch in relief.

“It’s encouraging to know that there’s one adult in your relationship,” she sighed. Mike handed glasses of water to her and Louis.

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “I made a cock-shaped cake that can be lit on fire!”

Ah. Well, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Jessica’s eyes glittered, and Louis wished his Dictaphone had a camera so he could take a picture of said cake.

“Harvey should be at his apartment by now.”

“Is he drunk?”

“Sober,” Jessica informed him. Mike hummed and slid them the room key.

“Check-out at noon.”

Louis groaned in relief. It was nearly four in the morning, and he needed to be awake for an early meeting.

“Presumptuous,” Jessica clucked her tongue as she made her way into the main bedroom.

“Nuh uh,” Mike rolled his eyes, “He loves me w-a-a-a-y too much to let me sleep out in the cold.”

“Love, is it?”

Mike quirked a smile.

“Well, Marcus already gave me some copies of childhood pictures, so…”

“Ah, blackmail. A tried-and-true method,” she nodded as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Mike turned towards him.

“It was nice seeing you, Louis. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk, but if you’re half as good as Harvey claims, Sidwell is going to love Pearson Specter.”

Louis gaped at the blond’s back and he exited.

So that was the infamous Mike Ross.

Louis smiled to himself. What he wouldn’t give to see Mike light that cake on fire in front of Harvey. 

Mike appeared at the door just as Donna was leaving. Or rather, Donna timed her exit (with helpful texts from Jessica), and let Mike in.

The apartment was the same as when he left. The fake flowers on the table hadn't been changed into something more seasonal, and most importantly, there was no trace of Dana Scott.

Mike entered with a bounce in his step and stared at Harvey, who was draped across the bar, nursing a glass of water and knocking back an aspirin.

Mike strode up to him and held out the cake.

“Because you’re a dick,” he greeted cheerfully. Harvey’s eyes widened at it, and he held the platter in his hands, his fingers brushing against Mike’s. He kept his eyes trained on Mike's hands, breathing in time with the strokes. 

They stayed silent. Mike's grip on the cake wobbled as his muscles burned. Harvey’s face softened as he snatched it from the blond and held it himself. When he glanced up at Mike, he was grinning mischievously. 

“You couldn’t make it bigger?” the older man wheedled. Mike released the tension in his shoulders and huffed.

“You have a small penis,” Mike nodded affirmatively. Harvey shifted the cake in his grip. 

“Really,” the lawyer grinned as he leaned in.

Mike mirrored the movement. He came close enough that his breath brushed Harvey's ear while avoiding the frosting. 

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” Harvey breathed into his hair. It still smelled of the cheap cologne the blond liked from Macy's. 

“If you whip out yours to prove me wrong, so help me God, I’ll set yours on fire like I can to this one,” Mike murmured. 

Harvey chuckled.

"You wouldn't dare," he challenged. The cake was dangerously close to his crotch. 

“Challenge accepted.”

Mike sneaked the lighter from his back pocket and lit the cake on fire. 

"Godd-!"

Now, where was the fire extinguisher stashed?

Aftermath

For all that Sidwell drilled into his employees that money was the only thing that mattered, he gave Mike a month vacation that put Jessica to shame. Mike eased the humiliation for her, however, and told her that Jonathan could do that because the man knew that he had Mike by the balls; Jonathan Sidwell was Mike’s version of Jessica Pearson.

That cheered her up. Essentially, it was just a male version of her doing a nice thing; she was content with being the evil twin.

“I think they’re both the evil one,” Mike muttered into Harvey’s ear. The man batted him away playfully and continued dressing.

“This ‘morning meeting’ was well-deserved an all, but Pearson Specter’s wading in shit right now.”

Mike covered his ears.

“Lalalalalala. Client didn’t hear a thing. What? Pearson Specter is doing a wonderful job and just signed a huge client? Wow, I’m so glad I chose them!” Mike joked from the bed.

“Don’t forget that we fart rainbows too,” Harvey added as he pecked Mike on the cheek.

“Dude, this is probably the only vacation I’ll ever get,” the blond whined and flopped onto the covers.

Harvey knotted his tie and spoke to his unidentified-still-but-definitely-something-special someone, and raised a brow.

“You know, since they’re evil twins, Sidwell probably knew that I wouldn’t get a vacation and was banking on you getting bored and returning to work.”

Mike blinked

“That bastard!”

 “See if I ever bake him anything,” the blond pouted.

“He eats sweets?”

Mike shook his head.

“Nah. He likes sending baskets to rivals and smirks when they have powdered sugar all over their power suits.”

“Serves them right,” Harvey tutted. “Eating while on the job.”  

“Yeah. Screw them for being human. Also, my cupcakes are delicious! There’s this one guy who wears Elton John white just so that Jonathan can’t laugh at the powdered sugar,” Mike snickered.

“Maybe I should bring some of your cakes in.”

“You’ll be the most popular kid at school,” Mike laughed as he followed Harvey into the kitchen.

The lawyer snorted.

“I already am.”

Mike nipped at his jaw.

“The prettiest princess in the tower, then.”

Harvey rolled his eyes as he returned the action.

“My hair is worthy of Rapunzel’s title.”

 Mike pushed him out the door.

“Go take back your kingdom.”

It wasn’t smooth sailing after the ‘everything-went-to-shit’ debacle. Harvey kept waiting for someone to bring it up, for Mike to realize that it was a mistake to come back or for someone to tell him that he wasn’t good enough.

On bad days, he avoided Jessica’s eyes when in her office, flinched when Donna asked him if he had plans that night, and struggled to not eat the entire packet of pills that his therapist prescribed him.

The first night he stayed late at the office, it took him until 11PM to realize that he hadn't called Mike. His skin heated, sweat beading on his hairline. Harvey unbuttoned his collar and staggered towards his bottle of water, hoping to trick his body into calming down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” Mike rushed into his office. Harvey mutely heard the thud of something dropping by the door. 

Mike led him to the couch, hands holding Harvey's airway open. Vaguely, Harvey remembered Donna's strong voice cutting through the white noise in his head and the gentle squeeze of Mike's hands. 

“Shh, shhh, take a deep breath,” Mike petted his hair. 

“Is there anything I should be doing?” the blond asked. Harvey couldn’t speak; he gasped.

‘Wa- ‘ he scribbled on the corner of a brief.

“Water?” Mike darted from the couch.

“Hey, hey, sip slowly,” Mike said softly as Harvey sputtered. As Harvey focused himself, Mike chattered.

“-and then I told the bagel guy that Amy hated nuts-“

“- and Jonathan definitely bought a new coffee machine just to spite me-“

“- Craymer from the floor below tried to give me a swirly, and oh my god-“

“-so I totally told that cart guy that-“

“…you quit…” Harvey managed to mutter amidst the chatter. 

“…well…”

“There are SEC agents who eat brunch at the apartment more times than we eat brunch there,” Harvey said indignantly. He felt oxygen easing into his lungs.  

Mike grinned and pecked his forehead.

“-so, I told the cart guy that there was a suspicious guy a street up, and he sent the girl from the coffee shop to check her out, and it turns out that said shady guy was some Jersey dude,” at this, Mike wiggled his eyebrows, “named Tanner.”

Harvey’s interest peaked.

“So, I’m just FYI-ing you that I may have a tail on him and that the information I’ve gotten sounds promising,” Mike finished.

Harvey’s shoulders relaxed into Mike’s lap.

“Created a Holmes’ network and bullied Giovanni into giving you take-out all on the same day,” he murmured.

“Jessica texted me earlier.” Harvey felt the blond shrug.

“Thanks,” he said eventually.

“You might retract that when you find out that I bought cheese stuffed breadsticks.”

“That’s grounds for divorce,” he sighed faux exasperatedly.

“Harvey Reginald Specter, was that your proposal?”

“My girl Beyoncé says I should put a ring on it ASAP.”

Mike laughed. 

Mike was his date to galas, now, a beaming butterfly decked out in clothes Harvey handpicked for him. Former lovers, socialites, and colleagues swooned while enemies swore under their breath; Mike was all anyone could hope for in a date.

He stunned rich CEOs with his encyclopedic brain, stunned their partners with recitation of Greek epics, and lastly, managed to make Harvey look better than he already did.

It was part duty but most possession that forced Harvey to remain plastered at Mike’s side. He warded off social ladder climbers with the barest pressure on the blond’s back and escaped the terribly dull with an insipid smile.

“You know,” Mike glanced at him from atop his champagne glass, “they aren’t contenders to the throne.”

Harvey snorted lightly into his own drink.

“Of course not. You’re hardly royal material.” His hand still laid territorially on the other’s hips.

“But I’m so fancy!” Mike snickered.

“That’s enough alcohol for you, Iggy Azalea.” Harvey plucked Mike’s drink from his hands and ushered him towards the outer edge of the hall.

“Does that make you Brittany Spears?” Jessica chuckled from in front of them. She dominated in a fitting red dress that cut through the black suits like a bullet wound.

“Nah, he’d never shave his head,” Mike teased. Jessica sipped her wine leisurely.

“Mr. Mallory asked for you,” she inclined her head to Mike who sighed.

“That man is nearly ninety. He needs to chill and let me make money for him.” With that, the blond smoothed down the front of his suit, tapped Harvey’s arm gently, and waltzed towards an out-of-place fedora surfing the crowd.  

Harvey’s eyes watched the blond like a hawk, taking stock of wandering eyes and lingering touches. Beside him, Jessica followed his gaze.

“Have you talked with him?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And?” she pressed.

Harvey sent her a wry smile.

“He’s fully aware that I am not a manic-pixie-dream-girl.”

She shook her head.

“If you don’t treasure that boy, you’re going to wish that Hardman was in charge,” she warned.

“Is this a reverse shovel talk? Because I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be defending my virtue,” a wide smile broke free from his control.

She slanted a brow at him.

“I’m letting Donna handle that.”

Harvey fought to hide his smile.

This was what family should feel like; he wouldn’t jeopardize that again.

Honestly, though, Harvey knew that he was insecure, so when he bought skinny ties for Mike, he knew that he had to nip that habit in the bud.

Then there was a new bike. The briefcase. A suit. A hairdryer.

When he ordered cheesy crust pizza, Mike sat him down and sternly asked him what was wrong.

“I’m not cheating!” was the first thing he blurted out. He hadn’t, but he had to admit that those words made him seem guilty. After what happened with his father, it was the first scenario Harvey’s mind always jumped to, especially with his past playboy behavior.

“I know, we’ve spent every day either at work or here,” Mike agreed. “But, just saying, if you were, I have to commend you on your stamina and implore you to continue because my hips literally gave out on Monday when I tried to stand up, and Amy hasn’t stopped laughing about it,” Mike finished coolly.

Harvey felt a weight lift from him.

“You’re joking, right?”

Mike pecked his cheek

“Hey, investment banker’s gotta walk. Maybe I should submit some dates, like, next Thursday have her tire you out a bit because I need to meet with Gianopoulos Friday morning,” but then Mike’s voice darkened as he whispered, “But you both should know that I have an Underground network to rival Sherlock Holmes, Jessica Pearson as a best friend, and Donna as an informant. I don't have to worry about you cheating; you'll never do that, and if you did?" Mike shifted into Harvey's lap. "I'd end them before you could even start." 

Harvey blinked.

“You know, the SEC may still be bugging us.” Harvey should be terrified, ‘creeped out’ at least, that his boyfriend just spoke like a psychopath. He wasn’t though. If anything, he felt more relaxed, knowing that Mike could joke about this. 

“Being jealous of a hypothetical person is not grounds for intent to murder,” Mike admonished and leaned back in his chair.

“Also,” Mike said brightly, “I have enough baby pictures of you to have one on the front page of the New York Times for the rest of your career.” The lightness in his voice didn’t hide the dangerous glint in his eyes. Harvey took a defensive position.  

“You know, most couples just have intense, reaffirmation sex,” Harvey distracted. 

Mike rolled his eyes.

“My hips, remember? Also, we had ‘hate sex’ last night after you ranted that I cheated at Mario Kart.”

“You did!”

“Are you purposefully picking a fight?!”  

“Need to keep it spicy, babe,” Harvey answered nonplussed.

“If you need to wheel me into work,” Mike warned as he swung around to the other side of the table, “I’m putting on a fake cast and saying that you pushed me down the stairs.”

The thing was, other than Mike’s Holmes network, he had friends who were still messengers. These friends delivered fresh coffee and muffins from café that didn’t usually deliver, surreptitiously bumped Pearson Specter’s package delivery to the top for extra  special cases, and on more than one occasion, splashed Travis Tanner’s, Cameron Dennis’, and David Hardman’s suits.

Harvey would never stop being amazed about how much more useful having blue collared workers as friends were than politicians.

Then, because Mike was a literal harbinger of Fortune, he saved Pearson Specter (Litt) once again.

Forstman, after being tossed into prison thanks to some stunning detective work from Rachel, was funding Hardman to take over the firm. Again. As if the first time he hadn’t been soundly smacked into the ground.

Harvey sat in the conference room, running through their options.

Louis paced the room like a madman.

Jessica knocked back an aspirin.

Donna was out buying expensive alcohol for what could be their last hurrah.

“We have two days to fix this,” Jessica sighed.

They’d already exhausted their resources. Sidwell and Gianopoulos were only willing to give them so much money.

Knock knock.

The three looked up.

“Delivery for Harvey Specter, courtesy of Mike Ross,” the girl set a box of cupcakes on the table without prompting.

“I’d read that note first, Mr. Specter,” she said cheekily as she left.

Louis stared at him and the box, dumbfounded. First because the cupcakes were from one of the best bakeries in the city with a notoriously long wait time; secondly because it was midnight, and thirdly because the cupcakes looked and smelled fresh.

Harvey reached for the card and let Jessica pick a cupcake first.

‘Dear honeybear. If you miss out on our Star Trek anniversary, I will make you sign a pre-nup,’  

Just before she dug into her cupcake, Jessica gave Harvey a pointed stare.

“Fair warning. If you don’t marry him, I will,” and proceeded to devour the confection.

“He’s threatening me with the pre-nup,” Harvey grinned. He imagined Mike lounging on the couch with his worm t-shirt and threadbare sweatpants, soiling the upholstery with buttery popcorn. God forbid they ever divorce (if/when they married), but Harvey could see Mike threatening him.

‘We have a pre-nup! Those skinny ties belong to me!’

‘You need to burn those, Mike!’

‘You shouldn’t have signed that pre-nup, then!’

‘I thought I would have more time to burn them!’

Mike would stare at him. 

‘Fifty years wasn’t long enough?!’

‘No man pushing 100 should be wearing ties that skinny.’

‘Excuse me?!’

This pre-nup definitely sounded like a terrible idea. Harvey refused to sign it.

‘I’ll be back before Spock gets a sense of humor,’ he texted the banker.

‘You’ll have more time if you promise to be back before Rumpkin smiles.’  

Rumpkin. Of course.

“Jessica!” he slammed his hands on the table as he stood. She gazed at him, unimpressed, but slightly startled.

“Rumpkin, of the SEC, is currently at my apartment. Along with his agents who have had Sunday brunch at my house more often than my own parents,” he exclaimed.

Jessica’s eyes twinkled.

“We need Mike to stall them. Louis, grab the cupcakes.”

Harvey was instantly on the phone as he rushed to pick up all the necessary files. Jessica did the same, dialing her driver and grabbing her things. Louis held the box of cupcakes confusedly and watched them speed out of the room.

“Um… guys?”

The second time Louis met Mike, it was during the second Hardman Apocalypse. He waited outside Harvey’s apartment with a box of cupcakes as the owner fumbled with his keys. When he opened the door, Louis almost pinched himself.

Scattered around the apartment, on the balcony, sitting on the ground, at the kitchen bar, were SEC agents dressed for work, but scarfing down homemade pita chips with spinach artichoke dip. Not the most glamorous of late night snacks, but the agents seemed to love it.

“If Harvey doesn’t propose to you, I will right here,” a blond woman moaned as she watched the cheese stretch.

“I said the same thing not an hour ago,” Jessica laughed (laughed!) as she strode in.

“Mrs. Pearson!” the agents greeted, but it came out sounding like, “Mmmmm….n.”

She set her coat and bag on an empty chair and joined them.

“Where’s your boss?” she asked faux curiously as she dipped her own chip. Louis shuffled in behind her.

The same blond tilted her head towards the suspiciously full and barely touched bowl of dip by the sink.

“We think Mike gave him a laxative.”

Louis snorted. Jessica happily wound her cheese around her bread.

“Marriage material, that one,” a spindly agent from the couch crowed. Louis felt that they should probably show more consideration towards their boss.

“This is a conspiracy,” he heard Harvey mutter before the tossed the aforementioned dish in the trash to prevent further mishap.

“Oh! You’re just in time for Star Trek!” Mike sang. A chorus of groans erupted from the room.

“Hey!” the blond waved a spatula at them, “The next person to complain about Star Trek gets a double dose of laxative next time.”

That shut them up.

“So, Louis, long time no see, man!” Mike greeted cheerfully. He took the box from his hands and placed it on the counter after plucking a cherry one for Harvey. He gave a snort nod towards the other blonde who dug in.

“Um… Nice to meet you,” he replied. His palms sweated. The woman unwrapped a chocolate cupcake and split it with the other three at the bar.

“Urgh…” a man stumbled from down the hall.

“That’s your guy,” Mike pushed Harvey towards the man. Jessica sighed and finished her chip.

“I owe you one, Mike,” she said as she passed.

“Nah, the pleasure was all mine. Louis,” the blond nodded towards him as the lawyer followed his boss. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it looked like it was in their favor.  

Forstman’s funds were frozen just in time to sink Hardman’s plan, and, because Forstman was a much bigger, stinkier, and fouler fish, Rumpkin agreed to refocus his attention… for the moment.

Louis met Mike several times after that, and always on happy occasions.

Chapter Text

Harvey returned home to find Mike passed out on the couch, wrapped like a burrito.

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse,” he mused to himself. He stroked through Mike’s silky strands and pressed a brief kiss to his forehead. A ring jingled in his pocket.

“Go ahead. Make my day,” Mike murmured back. Harvey’s fingers stroked the edges of the ring.

“Good choice. I’d pay money to see the Godfather go against Clint Eastwood.”

Mike grinned.

“How was your day, honey?”

Harvey wrapped him tighter in the blanket burrito.

“I think the associates are trying to sabotage us, though it might just be that they’re incompetent. We should hire you instead,” Harvey groaned.

“Other than the fact that I don’t have a law degree. Besides, I’m an investment banker, dammit, not a lawyer.” Mike winked.

“No Star Trek quotes. I have to be back at the office in an hour for an emergency meeting.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” Mike crowed as he undid Harvey's Windsor knot. 

Mike – How they met

 Mike loved the story of how he and Harvey met. It was a shame that he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.

It started with a part-time job as a window washer, which paid sky-high rates cleaning sky-high windows. Mike had been doing the job for weeks when he first caught sight of Harvey, who had a fondness for walking around nude.

Oh yes. That was… interesting.

Their eyes met, and Harvey, ever confident, shooed him away with the newspaper in his hand, bare-ass naked. Mike knew that he should turn away, continue with his job, but damn, it wasn’t like the brunet was going anywhere, and really, it wasn’t like Mike could skip windows. For 'ethical' reasons, of course.  

He stuck out his tongue and pulled his hat more snugly against the autumn chill.

And if he cleaned the windows slower than usual, then, well, it was his own money he was losing.

A sharp rap startled him. He looked up at the sound, and woah, he did not expect to be eye level with the guy’s dick. The man stared at him with an eyebrow raised and Mike, ever childish, stuck out his tongue again and mimed measuring out two inches.

If their story was a cheesy romance movie, there would be cute messages written in fogged up windows and bright laughter. 

But oh no.

Harvey opened the window carefully and crooked his finger at Mike, who rose to the challenge.

“You’re quite cheeky for being the help,” Harvey mused curiously while tilting Mike’s chin up.

Mike let loose a laugh; he was sure that he’s seen this scene in a porno before.

“I’m paid by the window, not by the hour,” he tutted. He was lucky that it was chilly outside, and that he hadn’t worked up a sweat.

“You could get paid by the bed,” the brunet continued.

“Did you just ask me to be a hooker? Dude-“

“Don’t call me dude.”

“How about sir?” Mike smirked.

“How about I make you dirty up that window you just washed.”

“Only if I can charge you double,” Mike winked.

Harvey chuckled.

“Who’s implying prostitution now?”

And that was the story of how Mike got out of the autumn chill.

And the winter snowstorm.

And the spring allergies.

And maybe the summer heat, which was debatable since sex on the balcony was hotter than washing windows.

Harvey

Harvey never intended to continuously sleep with Mike, but the blond was… not different, because that was a pedestrian term… but… yeah, different.

Mike glanced at a naked Harvey objectively most days, with an ‘Oh, yes. Male anatomy, ok,” and returned to the TV or cooking. Mike wasn’t bothered by Harvey’s exhibitionist tendencies, and didn’t mind that Harvey liked to be naked outside of sex. It was alien; Mike came to him when he needed to double check his nerd facts instead of when he was craving a GQ model.

(Now, Harvey adored being admired, but there was nothing respectful in being assessed like a slab of meat, no matter how expensive the cut.)

“Are you comparing yourself to a filet mignon, again?” Mike asked as he flipped through the morning newspaper.

“I thought we agreed on no telepathy,” Harvey shot back.

“Yes, Magneto.”

“That helmet would ruin my hair,” Harvey sighed dramatically. “Does that make you Charles Xavier or Raven Darkholme?”

Mike hummed thoughtfully.

“Jennifer Lawrence is naturally a blonde…”

Harvey gave a light snort.

“She's Wagyu beef compared to your ribeye.”

“You flatterer,” Mike chuckled as he finished his coffee. He was dressed in everything but his tie, which he begged Harvey to put on every morning.

“If we were both filet mignon’s, we’d be from the same cut on the cow. That’s practically incest,” Harvey joked. Mike eyed him suspiciously.

“You’re a dork. Also, you may be on drugs. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Harvey stared at him balefully.

“You were so excited for the new Lord of the Rings movie that you tried to buy every company associated with them, and then dressed up as Gandalf in order to convince them.”

“It worked!”

It really didn’t.

Harvey regretted the story of how they met, not because it shamed him, but because it was a reminder of the man he used to be.

Jessica forced him home after a particularly explosive client meeting. His housekeeper left just as he returned, a woman he’d only seen one other time, and Harvey expected to not be disturbed until that evening. He finished summarizing a stack of briefs when he heard whistles echoing throughout his apartment.

Oh no. That was drowning out his records.

It took him barely a second to pinpoint that the obnoxious sound came from the balcony, where a blond man was washing the windows. Harvey remembered checking off boxes in his contract that corresponded to when he preferred the building manager to fix any problems, and understood that this man was doing his job. However, Harvey had just been kicked out of his office like an unruly schoolchild and wanted to do his job in peace.

He stomped over and realized that he was naked, but had no time to back away because blue eyes were already staring at him.

His therapist speculated that his nudist tendency was due to his need to wear three-piece suits at work, and she was right (again). Shedding the suit layers was euphoric; as each piece of his armor fell off, a metaphorical weight lifted from his shoulders.

So there he was, naked metaphorically and physically.

In Jessica’s words, Harvey was absolutely shameless, so he stood there in broad daylight and shooed away the man, kid, judging by the lack of peach fuzz.

At this point, there were several things Harvey expected to happen. Firstly, he expected the kid to blush because Harvey was a fine specimen. Secondly, he expected the kid to duck quickly finish cleaning the window and fleeing, or God forbid, take a picture with his phone.

He was doubly insulted then, when the blond shrugged and stuck out his tongue like the child he was before the whistling resumed. 

Harvey blinked.

This day off was proving to be more entertaining than Pearson Hardman during the Apocalypse.

It took him five long strides before he could rap sharply at the window.

The kid looked up at the same time Harvey slid the doors open.

Oops. Giving the blond an eyeful definitely wasn’t on purpose, honest; he was just bored and wanted to mess with the kid a little.

“You’re quite cheeky for being the help,” he smirked. 

There was some light banter, but Harvey was focused on Mike’s answering laughs and his thick, pale lashes.

Oooohhh. Thick and pale.

It occurred to him, as he basked in the afterglow, that he had been pranked, or that this was Donna’s apology gift for forcing him to go mudding with Louis last week.

No. She promised him that she wouldn’t interfere with his sex life, especially after the debacle of ’99. Or was ’97 the debacle and ’99 the disaster or did he have those backwards?

Mike snuffled closer to him, wrinkling his nose like a child, and Harvey let out a small smile.

It happened again. Harvey took a long lunch to pick up some files he left in the kitchen and heard Mike whistling. The blond washed diligently, nose running as snowflakes clung to his skinny frame.

Harvey couldn’t let the kid stay out there in good conscious while there was a fire blazing in the living room, so he invited the blond in.

The thank you gift, however, was much appreciated.

As people say, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

‘Yeah,’ Harvey snorted as he pet Mike’s blond hair, “good intentions.”

The SEC

Mike couldn’t tell Jessica details of his job because that would be unethical and give the SEC proof to come knocking on their doors, so he didn’t. That didn't mean that they don’t have one drink too many for a ‘professional’ relationship, and if they happened to spread some rumors, well, that’s not something drunk people can help doing. So, if Jonathan’s assistant mentioned to Amy that a Tokyo tycoon was making an impromptu flight to New York for pleasure, well, then Mike might drop a hint or two when completely inebriated on Long Islands.

And if Jessica happened to see Travis Tanner at the hotdog cart Harvey frequented, Mike may have told Harvey that he heard amazing reviews about the new deli down the street, and paid an old bike messenger friend to splash water on the Tanner’s suit.

Donna joined in some nights, but never Amy because Mike was pretty sure that the government was ready to declare the three of them a mob, and he needed an innocent evil mastermind to spring them if they were ever imprisoned. Not that he didn’t trust Harvey to win their hearing for them, but well, contingency.

They had a system. Jessica and Donna taught Mike the subtleties of the wealthy, and in exchange, he gave them information on how the other half (well, ninety-nine percent) lived. Mike scored several companies by the virtue that the stockholders exclaimed over his impeccable manners, and Jessica avoided ambulance chasers and found the juiciest pro-bonos.

Around the fifth month after the dramatic penis-cake, the SEC started sniffing around. There were rumors about insider training, that Jessica gave Mike confidential information, but she hadn’t, and even if she did (she didn’t, really), they were too smart to be caught. Another banker brought up the inquiries to Jonathan, who laughed him out of the office.

“If Mike used insider trading, he would have lapped you again.”

Which was completely true.

The SEC burst into the apartment while Jessica and Donna were there. There was a dramatic supervisor who waltzed in with a self-satisfied expression, and SWAT was fanned outwards.

They were hoping to catch the trio in the midst of exchanging information. What they found was Jessica and Donna passed out on one couch, and Mike in the chair watching Pretty Woman.

Mike took one look at them before he munched on his popcorn.

“Michael Ross, Donna Paulson, and Jessica Pearson-“

“Talk to my lawyer,” Mike responded immediately. The man’s face colored.

“You need to come with us,” he pressed.

“He’s right there,” Mike waved a dismissive hand at Harvey, who shoved his way into his own apartment, dripping sweat and altogether not pleased. 

It continued. The SEC barged into the apartment every time an unrelated deal went down, and as a result, Harvey became friendly with the sheepish agents. Their supervisor, Donald Rumpkin, always investigated underneath the rug for hidden documents and dug through the trash, while the agents sighed pitifully. 

Harvey sat at the bar with a full pot of coffee that he offered to the agents as they dragged themselves in. The newbies were eagerly helping Rumpkin, while everyone else apologized to Harvey.

“You know, they don’t actually want to help him, but, well, they’re rookies,” one of the senior agents told him. Harvey raised a brow.

She started laughing.

“I think Mr. Ross keeps hiding dirty condoms in weird places to mess with them, and-“

“Ah,” Harvey took a sip, “say no more.”

Another agent chimed in.

“Yeah. One of them thought that they hit the jackpot when they found this trash bag hidden in another trash bag in a corner, but when they opened it, it was just full of used condoms,” he guffawed.

After that, Harvey stocked extra bagels for them.

The newbies warmed up to him… until they didn’t.

“What happened now?” he asked Carol. She shook her head.

“Check your house,” she whispered to him. “I think Rumpkin bugged it-”

He became stony-face.

“-but I heard Jim saying that all they heard was you two having sex.”

Harvey cracked a smile.

…and had douchebag Rumpkin suspended.

The next time they barged in, Mike was cooking dinner.

As always, Harvey came back to an apartment full of awkward SEC agents and Rumpkin. As always, Mike ignored the mess and pointed to Harvey as he said, “My lawyer. I plead the fifth.”

It helped that Mike steered clear of any companies that had strong relations with Pearson Specter. (The SEC once tried to claim that Mike couldn’t buy Animatronics toy company because the nurse of the step-father to an associate who quit after two weeks married a man whose first wife was Mike’s neighbor from Brooklyn. It was ridiculous and Mike literally shoved his phone at the man, where five numbers were programmed in: Harvey, Jessica, Donna, Jonathan, Amy.

“I don’t like to keep in touch with strangers.”

‘What? No pizza joint?’ The man asked suspiciously. Mike nodded towards Harvey.

“I’m not allowed to order. He says that cheese in the crust is going to make him lose his figure.”

The Inevitable

Dana visited, and Mike didn’t slam the door in her face, which was magnanimous of him, but Harvey couldn’t help but wish that he did. As a gracious host, Mike offered her some wine with the grapes they picked up that morning, and sat across the counter from her.

“Harvey, I think it’s a nice night. Are you going for the six mile run?” Mike asked innocently. Harvey threw a panicked look at Dana, who mirrored it.

“I don’t-“

“Ah. There’s construction on 4^th,” Mike announced as his phone chirped, “You’ll have to go around. That’ll be an eight mile journey, but tonight’s cool enough for that.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“Ah… yes,” he answered forlornly, “I’ll need to fill up my water bottle.”

Mike nodded and returned his gaze to his phone. Dana shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe I-“ Harvey tried again.

Mike shushed him.

“Don’t worry; we’re only going to compare notes on your sexual prowness,” Mike teased, but there was an unforgiving edge to his gaze.

‘He’s spent too much time with Jessica,’ Harvey thought morosely as he finished filling his bottle.

“Maybe I should-“ Dana spoke up, but Mike motioned her back into her seat.

“Nonsense. We’re the two longest relationships Harvey’s ever had; we must have plenty in common.”

Neither Mike nor Dana told him what happened that night. Their show of solidarity terrified him. 

Inevitably, it occurred to Harvey that dating Mike would have repercussions; he was dating his client, after all. Now, if Harvey was an associate, or one of the many nameless Partners that scrolled through the firm, his relationship wouldn’t be a problem. Pearson Hardman, after all, was a large firm just as SIG was a large investment group, and it was inevitable that there would be relationships spanning those two workplaces.

But Harvey wasn’t just another lawyer; he was Jessica Pearson’s right-hand man, and Mike Ross wasn’t just an investment banker; he was Jonathan Sidwell’s prodigal son. He was dating his client.

“I can’t be dating my client,” Harvey told the air sternly.

Mike rolled over and groaned.

“Rumors are that you’re an excellent lawyer; you’ll find a loophole.”

“I’m beyond excellent,” he instantly muttered before loudly sighing, “What if it’s airtight?”

Mike shuffled away in order to judge Harvey’s expression accurately. Harvey felt Mike’s fingers curl around his the moment he itched to bite his nails in anxiety.

Mike lifted himself onto Harvey’s arm and gave a small kiss to the bicep there.

“Then you better quit because Jessica will fire you before she drops SIG,” the blond winked.

Harvey pouted.

“She wouldn’t do that to me.”

“She would if she knew that you have this amazing boyfriend that makes enough money for you to keep your current standard of living without needing to work.”

He kissed Mike’s forehead and retorted just as smoothly.

“Sidwell could drop you instead.” His words brought a bright grin to his partner’s face.

“Puh-leez. Sidwell hasn’t earned back what he invested in me yet. Jessica’s had ages to make money off you.”

“I could have sworn that you made an old joke there, but duly noted,” Harvey acquiesced.

He still combed through the bylaws, and the only loophole he brainstormed was if Sidwell actually adopted Mike. It was a small distinction, but in their world, sleeping with a client’s relative was a sly, manipulative tactic, but nothing illegal (unless the relative was underage, but that was another cat in the bag).

He mentioned it to Sidwell only, jokingly.

“I’d prefer a spring wedding,” the banker demanded.

“For the flowers?” Sidwell didn’t seem the type.

“My mother has allergies; she’ll be incapacitated during the spring-” Harvey nodded absently; this was exactly the type of family he’d thought he’d marry into, “-but you have yet to earn my blessing.”

“It’s usually a good sign when my services are not needed.”

Sidwell barked a laugh.

“Touché.”

Finale

The day Harvey ‘put a ring on it’ was the same day Mike handed him an Iron Man Halloween costume.

“Haaaarvey!” Mike pranced out of the bedroom in an ill-fitting Captain America outfit. In his hands was a distinct red and gold spandex costume.

He looked ridiculous. The cowl was a smidgen too large, the pants a little too long but too tight, and the arms sagged like extra skin. The grin on the banker’s face, however, more than made up for the hilarity.

“I bought one for you!” Honestly, Harvey had planned on being Bruce Wayne for the sixth time, and being an Avenger sounded perfect.

“That costume looks ridiculous on you,” Harvey responded fondly.

“I think it suits me well,” Mike pouted. Harvey’s fingers slipped into his pocket.

“I think being my husband would suit you the best,” he slipped on the ring and waited for the news to settle.

Mike’s genius brain processed the declaration in nanoseconds.

“Harvey, you playboy, genius, philanthropist!” the blond crooned as he flopped towards him. The blond threw his arms around Harvey’s neck and giggled.

“You’re an absolute child,” he muttered fondly. Mike kept giggling.

“Let’s have a themed wedding; it’ll be totally epic!”

Harvey rolled his eyes, but honestly, it would weed out a lot of people that he was obligated to invite but didn’t want to come.

Mike pulled his head back to stare him in the eyes.

“Let’s schedule the wedding for Halloween. I need to see Jessica as Fury right now,” he demanded with a completely serious face.

Harvey burst into laughter.

“Donna is the perfect Pepper Potts!”

“Jonathan secretly loves Dr. Strange; I think it’s air of mystery.”

“Harold…”

“Bruce Banner!” Mike exclaimed. Harvey cackled.

“It’s so perfect. But Marcus is more of a DC guy.”

Mike scrunched up his nose.

“It’s my wedding. He’s going to be dressed as a Marvel character and like it.”

Harvey kissed the determined glare away.

“If I could have this dance?” he put Sinatra on his record player and held out his hand. Mike quirked his brow.

“You’re no Peggy Carter…” Harvey’s eye twitched, “but you’ll do,” Mike said as he slipped his own ring on Harvey’s finger.