Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

While Jessica's office looked no different to the other partners' with its glass walls and dark wooden shelves filled with common, civil and state law books, the atmosphere always held a threat overhead for Mike. Like some executioner's blade hung over the threshold, reminding him his life here at this firm tied to Jessica and how much money he brought in versus his liability to her.

And she wasted no time in telling both Mike and Harvey she wouldn't perjure herself for Mike if ever placed on the stand. For his fraudster lies and all the bullshit it entailed would act like a bomb against everyone here and because of that, he couldn't really say much against her. She'd done enough already. She would take the route of hand-tied victim, unable to remove the tumor that having someone lying about having a Harvard law degree would pose to every case he'd ever tried.

And Louis sat, keeping his eyes on his watch, and not once during that conversation had he ever turned and look Mike in the eye. He hadn't touched his drink either, keeping it forgotten in one hand.

Harvey tried again to relight the chatter from before, ideas and arguments of what could they do versus what the FBI might ask. Now, silence interspersed with the clinking of glass tumblers.

"For all we know Donna's friend of a friend was put up to this to rattle us, it'll be fine."

"Well, I'm rattled. Come off it, Harvey. We're screwed." A terrible dread settled in his gut, something heavy and cold, and it sapped at all the strength in his limbs. "I'm going to prison."

He sat defeated next to Louis, who flinched, and Mike raked his shaking hands through his hair. He was going to prison. As soon as the prosecution called for Harvey to testify on who Mike Ross really was, everything was out. Fuck.

Harvey took a drink from his tumbler. "There's a way out of this. We have till Monday."

"It's Wednesday, so if you're going to do something do it quick," Jessica snapped at him, snarl almost staying on her face until it smoothed out into something more like pity and frustration when Mike caught her eye.

"I'll plead the fifth, his subpoena means shit."

"You can't ignore this, this." Louis fidgeted with his cuff-links, with his tie and the buttons of his suit despite them being perfect. "This is it for Mike." He refused to look at anyone.

The air became stifling hot, Mike gulped, so loud he thought the rest of the room would hear his fear. Shit. He might have to grab Jessica's wastepaper basket to vomit into. It'd save the carpet at least.

"We haven't lost yet," Harvey said. Mike almost wanted to tell him 'it's okay'. Grammy always said lies catch up with people. Cold sweat dampened his back, stuck his shirt to his shoulder blades and Mike couldn't speak.

No one said anything. No one agreed. No one had a plan.

"Go home, both you," Jessica commanded it and Mike refused to move. It took too much effort to breathe, each inhale and exhale now a focused task and not instinctual.

Harvey stood. His drink finished like his wire-thin patience.

How many seconds, on average, did a person need to breathe? Black spots showed up in his vision, so stuck and frozen in his panic he couldn't even blink them away. The threat to cry didn't so much as wash over him as it bubbled up inside him, like some overflowing sink.

Harvey snapped his fingers in front of Mike's face as he left and Mike blinked, retreated from it. Jarring, the clarity, the sudden noise, the quick movement and then simply gone. Mike couldn't tell what truly made him able to ignore the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears or the weakness in his legs as he followed Harvey out to the elevators, but follow all the same he did.

The bullpen sat empty, no stragglers today that called off having an early lunch. Mike couldn't go for lunch. His stomach rolled and cramped. All while and Harvey stood there the picture of unruffled confidence, and for a second Mike's anxiety eased.

Did Harvey know something he didn't?

"You can't think of anything?" Harvey's eyes swept over him, assessing and curious.

Mike thought over everything, every argument, every possibility and couldn't see what Harvey wanted him to. This would be a test Mike would fail. The elevator dinged open and they entered. Thankfully, it let them continue talking, no one else to overhear the rising threat in Mike's voice.

"I guess? Only something extreme."

Harvey snorted. "We can't kill the prosecutor."

"Jesus, Harvey. No. That's not—" Mike couldn't stop rubbing at his arm, shifting his tie, slacking the knot off and then tightening it back up as he caught sight himself in those reflective doors.

If people saw him, they might think him newly fired. Fucked, fucked was what he was.

Mike talked in a droning way, fighting off panic. "Look, I didn't want to say anything in front of Louis and Jessica. There's one common law we could fall back on that means you don't have to talk about me on the stand. I think it might be better for me to take the prison time now. It won't hold up under any scrutiny."

He fought back tears at the idea. Prison. His life was over. Mike Ross: felon. Fuck. What kinda of work could felons even do? If he managed not to piss someone inside off and end up stabbed, bleeding out in some shithole prison no one bothered to visit.

"And you're telling me now? What is it? I told you there'd be—" Harvey didn't have a plan, did he? Mike realized then.

"If we had more time we could have said we were—" Mike tried not to stumble over the word but he had to swallow before he choked. His throat made some terrible noise, like a choke and cough all at once and Harvey gave him a look that too closely resembled disgust. It hadn't helped his nerves. The elevator dinged. Almost to the bottom already. It all fell down too quickly. Mike hit the emergency button. The elevator lurched, but it stopped. Mike could take a breath.

"What the hell, Mike?"

Taking back a few seconds of his time, Mike turned his back to the elevator door. He knew there were cameras here, but no audio. Just in case.

He wasn't even sure what expression he wore when he said, "—married?"

Harvey shoved his hands into his pockets. "Back up." His tone changed to something sharper, and Mike looked to his own scuffed shoes, unsure how he could ever suggest it. "What did you just say?"

"Spousal immunity. You couldn't be compelled to testify against a spouse, goes against the sanctity of marriage as an institution, plus they don't know we know about what's coming Monday so we couldn't be accused of rushing into it to protect ourselves."

As if that stopped the hulking mass of reasons, reasons upon more reasons that the idea should be shot dead upon suggestion.

Despite Mike's intelligence, despite his memory there were times in his life where he felt stupid. As if the world transpired against him and brought him the worst answer to whatever question asked, he knew then, at that moment: This was a dumb suggestion. The dumbest. To think he would proposition Harvey of all people with life-long commitment.

A voice came from the panel of numbers, "Sit tight, we'll have the door reopened in about five minutes."

"Thanks," Mike mumbled, though he hadn't pressed the button to answer the call.

He didn't dare look to Harvey. Didn't need the humiliation on top of having the end of his life as he knew it draw closer.

"Wow."

A glance wouldn't hurt. It never hurt.

The surprise, the raise of Harvey's brow, it all made Mike wilt. Stupid, stupid. This was the reward panic brought him.

"This is how you propose? In a stopped elevator?"

Mike blinked at the shine of the metal handrails. His thundering heartbeat back in his ears. He hadn't heard that right. No. No way, there was no fucking way Harvey said that.

"Shit." Harvey rubbed at his jaw. "That could work, hell, could you imagine Jessica's face? That Daniel shithead would be apoplectic." And then Harvey laughed, carefree and giddy like Mike's life wasn't going to end.

Mike had stopped actively breathing, holding onto it as the last fragment of sanity. He tried to keep his focus on the rare but well understood glint in Harvey's dark eyes. And the usual smirk when he thought about winning some difficult case. About how the new plan would deliver them up a prize he would brag about later. Using it as ammo sometime down the line against the same person as if every win and loss equaled a personal admission of worth.

Marrying each other helped stop Harvey ever speaking about Mike on the stand regardless of suspected crimes. Where, however, was their shared assets, joint accounts and pictures of numerous dates? Reality spoke to the bare walls in Harvey's apartment and Mike's lack of chatter: no one knew they were on the dating phase, never mind marrying. Anyone looking over their marriage certificate would not side-eye the idea of eloping, people did that; but Louis and Jessica would have to know it false, right?

And that would put them all the way back to the issue: people who knew Mike's secret could still be forced to testify against him. If not Harvey on the stand, Daniel might pick someone else.

"We keep this between us until court on Monday." He flicked his finger between them both, like there could be any mistake in who he meant.

"What? I mean. This has to count as marriage fraud, in a way you know. Maybe not getting a green card so I doubt immigration would shove their noses in." In a second of weakness, Mike admitted, "I don't want you going to prison for me, Harvey. I couldn't handle knowing I put you in there when it's my lie."

He wouldn't let Harvey take the fall for him. It wouldn't happen. He'd given him a chance all the years ago, taken a risk in hiring him and Mike wouldn't let himself be remembered as a regret.

"Our lie," Harvey said and that was it, the doors opening and the discussion shelved till later.

Mechanic-dude standing there looking irked already.

How terrible a person did Mike have to be to hope Harvey didn't walk away from this? To think if he could give Harvey what he always wanted – to win and win with a spectacle – somehow, Mike would be saved in the process, no matter how dangerous and life-altering continuing these lies would be to Harvey or himself.

Mike had to stop sometime. Maybe it would be better if it came sooner rather than later.

They spent a few minutes apologizing, making excuses and leaving a frustrated technician to do whatever the hell he needed to do. Mike barely heard any words Harvey said. Even as they left the firm, the sun bet down on him in such a stifling way, Mike wondered if he would faint on the sidewalk.

Harvey purchased the usual bagel. Mike refused to eat, the very idea made him queasy.

They walked in between the busy foot traffic, slipping by people having half a sentence said before someone else slipped in between them only for the conversation to continue a second later.

"You know this would be solving perjury with more lying right?"

"Really? Is that what that means?" Funny. Real funny dude. Harvey shrugged a shoulder, content to eat. Really, Mike wanted to grab it and throw it into traffic. Shake Harvey and tell him they were both in deep shit, and Harvey should take this seriously.

"Look, this lie means we don't have to bother if someone else tries the same thing, we're both safe. Plus, Daniel hates me, he's not interested in you specifically. Me though, if I keep his focus he's going to consider you a dead end and go another route."

"And everyone else who knows? What about them? Ask them to marry each other? Come on, this isn't a good idea. If he suspects anything, he'll use me to get to you."

Harvey took an extra large bite from the bagel, seemed to chew it over with his response before he said, "Doesn't matter; I hired you knowing you were a liar. Doesn't matter what everyone thinks was said or done in that room, the only two that know the facts are us."

"And Donna."

"Then we convince everyone the marriage it's real. Donna included. She might even buy us a gift." While Harvey tried to smile, tried to make it seem like everything was okay Mike couldn't take it. Not the hilarity of the idea—marrying a boss seemed like such a rom-com scenario— but marrying Harvey. Actually marrying someone to get out of this mess.

Was this really the only way? If Mike confessed, then Harvey never needed to go to court and answer questions. He should save them all the trouble.

"Of course, then people might think I kept you to stand around and look pretty. Hell, I'm sure if we gave them the option they'd choose the idea I hired you 'cause you were pretty versus admitting they helped commit fraud. A plausible way out for everyone involved. 'I helped Harvey because he asked me,' instead of some silly idea you don't know anything about the law or practicing it and they didn't report it."

It was dawning rapidly that Mike may have just, somehow, convinced Harvey to marry him.

"Come on. There's gotta be a registry office open right now."

Mike nearly skidded to a stop in front of him. Pleading. "Harvey, please. Think for a second, it won't work. Daniel'll have us investigated, there's no way he'll take this as totally normal thing that happens. We don't have anything. The fact no one even knew we planned to get married is literally a problem in and of itself! We have nothing joint, nothing shared. It makes no sense."

"You have a key. To my house." It didn't convince Mike, and that meant it wouldn't convince anyone else. "Do you think I hand them out to every associate?" From what Mike knew about Harvey's private life the only other person who he shared a key might very well be Donna.

"Look at it this way," Harvey said, conspiring and pleased with it all. Now, it was too difficult to look away from the eagerness in his eyes. It filled Mike with a dangerous poison too similar to hope.

Harvey started counting each point with his fingers. "We win and Daniel gets to drown in not knowing shit. We can't testify against each other. No one needs to know because we'll say we kept it quiet because of bylaws and the fact I'm your boss. And I've kept my private life private, hell you barely go for drinks with the other associates, so how would they notice? How would anyone in the whole firm even think to know? Plus everyone else gets to lie and say they covered for you as a favor to me instead of grasping at some shitty lie Daniel will prove wrong in two seconds flat."

Sometimes, Mike's mouth worked faster than his brain. "People knew when I was marrying Rachel." And that was the problem. A random wedding? Yeah. Mike didn't need a genius IQ for that one, and the judge wouldn't either.

"Do you think I would let you go around telling people? Blame me. Come on, who would you tell, and not be made miserable with all the inane questions?"

The first person, oddly enough no longer lived. Mike thought of Grammy. How she would take the news that his engagement to Rachel Zane fell through and now he's marrying his boss. Would she be able to tell immediately his lies? Would she just say what she always did, that she just wanted him to find happiness?

Would she be disappointed?

"Whole point of this piece of paper is we don't have to answer them in court. And hey, it's not like you need a green card. Wait." Harvey eyed him in a way that locked every muscle and joint in place. "You haven't been playing the long con, have you?"

Mike couldn't resist that set up. "Yup, secretly Canadian, eh."

"That was your attempt at a Canadian accent? Really?" He scrunched up his nose. "Ouch. Maybe I should rethink this." He threw the napkin into the nearest trashcan.

A slight breeze cooled the sweat on Mike's forehead, so much he wiped at his face and wondered how obvious it had been to everyone how much he bordered on freaking out. Harvey had always tried to do right by him, even if Mike hadn't been in the loop all of the time. 

"You're my boss."

That line of thought froze Mike's feet and abruptly he stopped in front of someone else who shoulder checked him though said nothing. Harvey didn't look much impressed at having to pause his routine for random statements of fact.

"Were you under the impression I haven't been your boss this whole time?"

"Oh my god… We can't do this. People are going to think I'm a gold-digger."

A small voice, the most reasonable of consciences, spoke that maybe worrying over lying to federal prosecutors than being shamed for hooking up with Harvey over money might be the wrong priority to fret over.

"Don't worry." He grinned and fixed his cuffs. "You have exceptional taste."

Mike opened and closed his mouth, trying to will something to say and nothing. Not a damned thing came to him in response. The arrogance of this dude.

"Dick."

For Mike relationships were always priority, date nights and seeing them was always notable. He had every single girlfriend as a photo in his lockscreen – and before those, he shared a specific email just to talk. If anyone asked him why Harvey, why hadn't he done all the things he always did, he wasn't sure he could think of an answer.

"Won't people realize we were lying when we didn't have you know, a whole wedding ceremony? Pictures, that sorta thing."

That wouldn't be a point Mike could understand as an outsider.

"Who would you even invite to our hypothetical wedding?"

Mike pulled away immediately, panic morphing into something uglier, meaner. Disgust and outrage and disappointment in horrid tandem with this suffocating heat. "Woah, dude. That's a real fucked up thing to say to me. Are you fucking kidding me?"

For once Harvey seemed caught out. "That's not—" He shook his head almost hurt at the accusation and Mike stood reeling, more on edge than he'd been all day. "Take it easy. I meant—"

This fucking guy. Seriously, dude. Mike held off on storming away, hiding in his apartment until the cuffs came and carted him to a hearing. He didn't have the luxury to throw tantrums right now.

"Most people invite family. Me? I'd be hard pressed to invite any of them." Mike would have interrupted, maybe with some quip or something but he kept quiet at the shift in how Harvey held himself. The rage lessened, the disgust vanished.

Curiosity always snuck up on Mike, always wrapped its way into his brain and made him so very still. All the hours of reading books never once shifting position and only after the sensation sated, would his body scream to move in muscle aches and fierce attacks of pins-and-needles.

He needed to know what Harvey meant. 

"I wouldn't want my mother there and my brother would make some stupid point and say he wouldn't go without her, and my father once again would be stuck in the middle"—Mike said nothing, he wouldn't say a thing. Not when it was clear his opinion of weddings and marriage were fiercely repulsive to him— "and either way I'd have to deal with drama. Weddings are the worst. And don't call me dude."

Mike might have gone insane. He might have suggested it, but now he considered it. Marrying Harvey Specter. His boss in official capacity, though to Mike their first meeting offered a completely different life, a chance to change everything. A lifeline in his fantastic series of terrible choices, old mistakes, and wasting his life away one blunt, one shitty side-hustle at a time.

"Think it over," Harvey said.

It really said Mike to keep his mouth shut in front of Ray. Not that they didn't trust him—but only a tightly knit circle knew of Mike's fraud. It kept them all safer. Giving Ray a forced smile as he slid in the back and thought hard.

Mike kept quiet. Harvey spent his time tapping his finger against his knee.

Mike could definitely do worse marrying the guy. He had nice hands, ones Mike promptly looked away from.

Don't make it weird.

Owing him enough to sign his name wasn't the issue, not even pretending they married in secret would be difficult. The idea Harvey might struggle to reciprocate the act worried him. What had Mike done for him really that would inspire such loyalty back?

Jumping from the idea that yes: he would marry Harvey sprouted more questions and they brought more anxiety and more problems. What if no one believed them? What if they both ended up in court, losing at this attempt to lie and this FBI prosecutor won? Sending them both to prison for all to see. Harvey should never lose his license. Mike kept falling back on it. He had to make sure Harvey stayed safe in this.

If, if they did marry and at least the judge allowed them to use spousal immunity from speaking about one another – what then?

It took Harvey whistling at him to regain his attention.

Ray bid them a goodbye, and Mike awkwardly waved.

"Is your brain overheating? I think I can hear it whirling from here."

"I mean. Do you even date dudes? I don't think we're going to convince much of anyone never mind someone as sharp as Jessica, or Donna for that matter." Maybe Louis, he had a weirdly romantic side to him. Must be the Shakespeare nerd in him.

"Haven't been married before either. Things change."

And that was it? Mike waited for more, something shocking or revolutionary. Some forgotten memory or profound bit of information which would settle it once and for all but Harvey already fished out his keys and unlocked his door.

"Uhuh. Is this where you confess your undying love for me in front of your DVD collection?"

Harvey gave him a look. "Do you want an ego boost or will we actually find a way to keep you out of prison?"

"Why can't I have both?"

"You don't put out? It's not in the prenup? Take your pick."

Synapses fired, a spark of hope found in some half-thought-out scheme that created itself from some stray comment Harvey wouldn't remember by tomorrow.

"That's it!" He grabbed at Harvey's arm and pulled him to a stop. The door slamming shut behind him. Hope burned his brain and for a moment: the foundation of a plan formed and Mike was safe. Harvey was safe. "That's how we convince Jessica and Louis!" Mike didn't let Harvey so much as speak, he thundered along, talking so quickly it almost tongue-tied him. "I go to Louis, you go to Jessica. We ask for 'help' on some friend of a friends prenup and to make the best prenup ever. It's ours but we don't tell—"

"Me and Jessica would destroy team you and Louis, are you kidding me?"

Mike waved his hands, talking and flailing as animatedly as before the news of Harvey's necessary court date. "Shut up. It doesn't matter because eventually, Jessica and Louis would talk about it and realize it's between us." Harvey watched him, intently and Mike recognize the idea taking root in Harvey's head. "They'd think they'd figured something out in secret."

"A double bluff." Mike would like to think Harvey looked impressed. He hummed, though his expression stayed in a mix of deep thought and that same closed off pinch. "That'll work on Donna and Louis, they'll gossip. Jessica'll count on us lying about lying so we'll need something else for her to believe it."

"You know her better than I do: what do you think she'd need to believe it?"

Mike was never very good at waiting for much of anything: the whole 'let's wait for maw and pa to come back through the door, oops they're dead,' made it a painful experience, more akin to anxiety and dread than anything ever resembling anticipation.

"Other than being present during the signing as a witness?"

"Not happening."

Already he could imagine Jessica scowling at him. Telling him to cut the shit and the whole plan clearly, as anyone could see, was yet another lie she wouldn't taken part in.

"I'll be sure to let her know you vetoed her invitation. I'll think on it." He sighed. He threw his keys on the couch. "Shit. We have another problem. My cleaner, shows up at six am on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. She'd know if anyone else has been living with me. If anyone interrogates her, I doubt she'd help us in the long run."

Sometimes showing off his recall ability made Mike feel warm and fuzzy, at that moment he shook his head, disbelieving yet again. How did Harvey forget this? "Do you do this on purpose? Hello, my memory? If we were keeping this a secret, it would also explain why I have a key. To make sure I don't leave anything over."

"I'll go in early tomorrow, see Jessica about this prenup. You sleep here tonight, or at least oversleep till Serah sees you. Then we see who's the better team. We find a registry to use before Monday."

Grappling with the idea he could use this as a way to prove he was the better lawyer versus having their sole focus be on anything but the impending court date, Mike needled Harvey for an easier distraction.

"I won't even need Louis."

"Yeah. Keep digging, let me know when you need the rope."

Finally, Mike laughed and it took with it the coil of tension that had wrapped its way up his spine. He perched on the back of Harvey's sofa, calmer than before but no less in need of a new topic to overthink on.

"Hey, now try not to cry when the student surpasses the master. You're gonna lose. Against Louis of all people. Wow, that's gonna suck for you."

"You actually think that's going to happen?"

Details were hashed over pizza, bought by Mike and begrudgingly allowed into Harvey's house.

Mike slipped from the couch onto the floor, slowly to end up closer to the food but also to support his already stiff spine. This sofa of Harvey's was a torture device, lacking support and swallowing people up with plush cushions and set at a too deep angle. Awful. Just what an awful piece of furniture.

"Okay, and when did this start?"

"We'll have to say it's on and off for the most part." Mike tried to keep his expression neutral. The implication wasn't lost on him, and yeah, he was a little jealous. There hadn't really been anyone in the last six months, not after Rachel. "What? It's not my fault you don't get laid, and I'm not going to be a cheater even if it is fake." Keep the face neutral. Neutral. Not a twitch. "Don't roll your eyes."

Mike shouldn't touch that. Don't. Not a word. Okay, no, he couldn't resist.

"Yeah, probably not used to seeing that expression with anyone you've been with." Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut mid-drink of a late night glass of malt scotch. It felt like a win, so Mike moved on. "So, on and off since my break-up with Rachel then? Fine. How long do we do this for?"

"Until we know our friend Dan hasn't got an agenda to make me do anything I don't wanna do, and you aren't leverage."

"That could be a long time." Mike finished his last slice of pizza, sat back against the couch and listened to the rain pelt the widows and glass walls in a worryingly loud fashion. "You're sure about this? Like, really sure?"

Harvey took the last swig of his glass. Set it down on the kitchen counter a bit too loud, Mike thought it might shatter, and came to sit nearby.

"We made the mess, might as well clean it up."

That distinctly hadn't answered his question.

"Harvey. With the way everything's going, are we going to get married? Actually sign, legally binding marriage certificates, really? All of this is hypothetical at this point for me at least."

"If we come up with something else? That doesn't involve you swanning over to prison?" Harvey rubbed at his neck, sighed and sounded more tired than he appeared. "We'll be married before Monday."

Definitely weird to think Mike missed when he could twirl a golden band around his finger, when it said I love you the most in the whole world. That it meant someone would be in his corner. If Mike married anyone, even if it was to obfuscate the truth, he'd need a ring.

"We need rings."

As he slid off his tie, Harvey scoffed, "No. If we were keeping this secret, to the point where we don't tell anyone, that even my cleaner hasn't seen you till now, then it wouldn't make any sense to wear them."

"No. Like I'd want a ring; even if I didn't wear it. If I was in some hush-hush relationship I don't think I'd compromise on that." Some part of him would need the physical reminder for whenever his mind went on a tailspin, a little thing to keep him grounded, to look at or feel and know he had a place he belonged again. "Actually I'd probably use one of Grammy's gold chains, y'know. Put it on that and wear it underneath. I'm not a douche to propose to someone else with a ring I've already used."

The silence brought back the heavy stone in his gut from that morning. Uncomfortable silence, and Mike flexed his right hand, staring at where the ring used to bug him. He remembered so well how funny the metal felt against his finger at first.

Now, him being honest somehow might have unsettled Harvey enough to back out of this plan because of Mike's habit to overthink everything.

Still nothing.

"Is that too sentimental for you?"

He chanced another glance. He couldn't place why the nerves were back now, despite being filled with pizza and armed with a plan.

"It's…" For the first time in all of this, Harvey seemed unsure what to even say. A beat. Mike almost apologized for nothing, almost backtracked. Torn between looking away and trying to work out what exactly Harvey could be thinking after hearing all that. Sentiment never seemed high on Harvey's priorities.

"It's fine. Hidden but evident if needed." Awkward. Why was this now awkward? "Alright, we'll do that. Gold ring on a chain."

It took too much courage to say, "Right." And underneath it all Mike buzzed. Grateful. An entirely an odd way to feel about a fake engagement, a legal but fake marriage. So long as it kept Harvey out of harm's way. "Thanks."

Harvey disappeared upstairs for a while, leaving Mike to blame himself more. If only he hadn't convinced Harvey to take him on as an associate. They could have taken another route, been someone to help research or maybe consulted or anything legal. The chance had been shown for a brief second and Mike grabbed at it with everything he had. He shouldn't have.

When Harvey returned, he went straight for the scotch. They didn't talk about whatever that was before.

More details, more questions and answers over small almost inconsequential details, and then Harvey reminded him the fact Mike should stay overnight and be seen in his bed in the morning by his cleaner.

"It's gonna be weird if we're not in the same bed; but the sofa could work for one of us—need to set an alarm."

"I get it. I do. Sleeping next to all this, it would be too much for most."

"Funny how we agree and yet for very different reasons," Harvey said it offhandedly, under his breath and Mike couldn't tell if it was a tease to ease any awkwardness or a roundabout way to show his own reservations about sleeping next to him.

"Dude. If I have to deal with that couch I'm watching movies till I fall asleep. That's not up for debate."

"Go to sleep and shut up. We're done talking for the day. Just make sure to wake up at the right time and don't wake me up."

"Yeah, yeah, I will."

Mike dozed, woke at 5am, neck and shoulders stiff. No matter how he rolled his head, the ache stayed. Yeah, he was desperately regretting the idea of sleeping here. Groaning, he huffed at how he might as well put his poor body to an actual bed for the last hour or so. He barely looked where he was going, eyeing the shadows and stray lights from outside to make his through without needing to turn on a light. He looked through his eyelashes and slow, languid blinks. He padded towards Harvey's bedroom wrapped in a small blanket that couldn't cover all his long limbs at the same time.

The only hint Harvey stayed sleeping was how no scolding or huff came as Mike curled up onto his own corner. Thankfully Harvey had left a side open. Any bed would be better than this stupid couch for his poor bones.

Unfortunately for Mike, during the hour he lay there sleeping blissfully, he attached himself to not only Harvey's side of the bed but to Harvey himself. There wasn't space between them. Mike's face wedged deeply between pillows and Harvey's neck as if he were a burrowing hamster searching for seeds.

"Oi, you," The voice seemed unfamiliar at first. Too gravelly to really be anyone Mike knew. An annoying, constant tap high up on his cheekbone. Hot breath against his neck and then a low whisper in his ear, "Wake up, Mike."

Oh, shit, Harvey.

Mike flinched fully awake.  

Chapter Text

Mortification didn't encapsulate what Mike's system went through in the span of a few seconds. Yes, he was snuggling into his boss. Yes, his leg draped over Harvey's waist like it belonged there, and lounging over Harvey like a half-forgotten blanket.

Mike couldn't tell if the heartbeat at his ear was his own or Harvey's. It was fast. Probably his. Nothing worked, every muscle frozen, every thought sundered as Harvey started talking again.

"You're like if a koala and an octopus morphed." Mike blinked, brain finally catching up to waking and seeing brown eyes and the most unimpressed stare ever. Poke, poke. On went the finger prodding. "And you snore like a dying chainsaw."

Mike would prefer a fight than this, this shame scratching its way across his face blooming from where those devious fingers touched him. He couldn't quite stop his brain supplying the thought:

Weird how a voice made the nerves in the base of his skull tickle. Anyone else and Mike would ask them to keep talking, keep muttering away whatever the hell they wanted so long as it was in his ear. Why did it have to Harvey? Why hadn't Rachel's whispers done this? Was it the low tones that set his brain on fire?

"Also, Serah very much saw you, so detach." Another prod, this time into the side of his cheek. Mike edged away. No, nope, he didn't want to process Harvey's 'I'm just awake' voice, thanks. He rolled away, not the most elegant of choices but fast, sat up, foot on the cooled floor ready to bolt if needed.

With his back to Harvey, he tried to go for a joke. "Okay. I'm going to go drown myself in the toilet." And that was all he needed, a distraction.

Harvey yawned, in-between a sort of half stretch. Mike refused to finish looking that.

Show-off.

"At least use the sink."

"Ooh, edgy," Mike said as he shut the door, sank to the floor and curled up in a fetal position. Oh god. He covered his face with his hands, and mimed all the swear words he could remember.

It was fine. Totally fine. It didn't bother Mike. That's all he had to prove, and Harvey would never bring it up again. Running away hadn't helped but he could salvage it.

Don't think about anything else. Don't remember anything else. He rubbed his ear with his shoulder, trying to remove the phantom sensation of Harvey's breath and how much those stupid words vibrated in his head.

Damn it. Why did he have to have a perfect memory? He shuddered. If Harvey could maybe, never whisper in his ear again, if he could never do whatever low thing – and what even was that – with his voice, if his neck could never tingle again, Mike could pretend none of that ever happened.

The previous night had them quickly note on what items or facts might hint at them if found on a piece of paper. Scotch, Harvey definitely. Mike, of course, it would be him that had done the grunt work, wrote up a quick list with assets and net-worth printed into neat manila folders. Two copies of each. The whole thing took thirty minutes as printing anything was more akin to temperamental ritual than working technology.

He took it as a way to calm down.

Mike shoveled cereal into his mouth, large unattractive gulps of sugary goodness despite being considered middle-aged by most. They could take his unhealthy breakfasts from his dead, pre-diabetic, cold hands.

"You know what's mine is yours and all that, right?"

"Not married yet. Why? What do you want?"

Harvey shook his head, had already dressed and stood nearby doing his tie in a slow, showy manner. Mike grinned. Gotcha.

"Thinking that means you'll own skinny ties." Harvey froze. "All of them. All of mine. You'll own all the skinny ties."

"No I won't." Mike's brain stuttered to silence, to stillness, as Harvey leaned forward and whispered, "I own scissors." The feeling whispered at the base of his skull again.

Mike sat the bowl down, despite not being full or the bowl being empty. Spoon and bowl clashing together loudly. He gulped the last of his mouthful and rushed to seem busy, to seem unbothered by that.

Harvey didn't know, right? Right? There's no way he could know.

Despite Mike not quite being ready to walk out the door, his jacket wasn't on, his tie undone though hung around his neck, Harvey rushed him as soon as Ray appeared outside all of five minutes later.

"You hurt my ties, I'm taking it out on your couch."

He rolled both his shoulders as he slipped his jacket on, grimacing at the ache returning. That couch had done a number on him. He felt the joints and bones click, his muscle stiffness worse for it.

"I believe that." Harvey slammed the door shut, locked up with a fluid movement and pocketed his keys. For a second, Harvey looked at him and Mike panicked he might bring up that very morning. Might say, hey, that last night? Let's not pretend to marry each other. It's too much. Pretty sure this his how deer end up hit with cars, everything shutting down and only waiting for the impending hit.

"You'd probably snuggle it to death."

Harvey's smirk said he knew it at least embarrassed him. Good. Mike could deal with that. He couldn't run from this one or else Harvey might try again. They greeted Ray, slipped into the car and continued bickering.

"If I'm managing to snuggle anything to death, maybe you need to hit the gym more."

"I'd beat you at anything physical."

"I used to bike around this city to deliver stuff, if I wasn't fast enough I didn't get paid." Sure, he hadn't done that in a few years but Harvey didn't know that.

"And I've been at the gym for decades, and run every morning. Yawn."

"I could totally beat you at a bike race."

"Could beat you in any race."

It might have said something about them both, or maybe about them individually that the rest of their journey to the office to enact the first part of their plan had been paused to brag and undermine each other. They bet money and ego they would each win and the other lose.

They waited at the lobby for a moment, Mike shifting his weight too eager to rush upstairs and start already.

"Twelve hours, best prenup wins," Harvey said as they decided to hold back and end up on an empty elevator together.

"They'll go for it won't they?"

"Jessica will love putting you two in your place. I might just spectate."

He handed over two of the four folders then. Don't look at his hands. "Pride before a fall, might want to remember that."

Harvey titled his head. Frowned. "Giants don't have anything to trip them."

Wait. What? Had Harvey never heard the phrase? Really? "Themselves? They trip themselves."

"Trip over themselves? Physically?" Harvey smiled wide, teeth showing, and Mike remembered he was considered a shark by most. "Is that what you do? Have you done that?" Harvey bumped Mike's shoulder with his own. "Tell me you've recreated Bambi's first steps as an adult."

"I'm going to see Louis now, try not to have some old-man crisis when you lose."

Louis' office door lay open. Mike closed it as he entered and Louis snapped, "What do you think you're doing?" It didn't deter Mike in the slightest, not when he knew he could convince him.

"I need a massive favor and it involves beating Harvey."

He sat up in his chair, straighter not from tension only interest like a very well dressed meerkat. "I'm listening, can't say I'll do anything about it."

"Have a, a friend, they need help on a potential prenuptial agreement. Harvey's on the other side and he's going to get Jessica to help."

He placed a copy of the assets down. Not that he would know it was Harvey's and Mike's, not this early in the day. But Louis could work numbers, he'd notice the payments for the partners, he'd know, surely, it was Harvey.

"Harvey's going to Jessica? Wait. Other side? We can't represent two separate people from the same marriage, conflict of interest Mike, you know that."

Still he hadn't thrown Mike out. Good enough to keep going, which ultimately meant Louis was more than interested.

"Yeah right. They haven't hired us exactly, it's just…" He needed to appeal to his ego. "So I thought it would be fun game if we – the overlooked associate and the dude that actually runs things round here, well. We could win against the two that have names on the wall and think they're so much better than us all the time?"

"You think I've the time to take out of my billable hours to play around and beat Jessica and Harvey?" Mike pushed the folders closer. And after a second, he snatched one up. "How long do we have?"

"Today and only today. It's a bit of a competition."

"They're going to talk about this for centuries."

Sure, Louis. Instead Mike smiled. Now, hopefully Jessica could be as easily hooked on this. Finally, Mike sat down knowing fine well Louis wouldn't throw him out.

"Great. What can you tell me about each of them?"

It only took seven minutes and thirty-four seconds for Mike to realize his error at picking Louis and the idea at making him think this represented him and Harvey. This was the worst idea ever.

Louis lifted Mike's asset list and promptly declared, "Gold-digger."

"Woah, what?" He croaked. "Totally not."

"One sheet versus this, come on." He acted like the statue of liberty, with her scales of justice and weighed them, one in each hand. Yeah okay, Harvey's document might have been several pages longer versus Mike's but like, what? "It's in gold-digger territory. Age gap? There's an age age, isn't there?"

Mike didn't want to talk anymore. He certainly didn't want Harvey to come anywhere near this conversation right now.

"I guess."

"Gold-digger."

Did he have to say it again?

Was this how people were going to perceive him after tying the knot with Mr. No Commitment?

"If we look at this from a traditional standpoint your guy isn't winning this. He doesn't live-in with his partner so doesn't necessarily take care of the household, doesn't offer any real benefits. No dependables, whatsoever. Has way fewer assets—"

It was petty, so petty but Mike blurted out the thought in his head. "All I want you to do, is add in that when they divorce he gets to burn The Couch."

"Weird bunch these two, then?"

He could only hum back. Harvey was weird about his ties.

"He isn't forced into this is he? Blackmail, coerced in any way?"

"Nope. Not that I know of. Absolutely, totally fine on that front."

This is what people were going to think when the news of their marriage hit the gossip pool? This, this character assassination?

"Damn it, we could have used that." Mike hadn't a clue what Louis wanted from him. "Well since there's a clear discrepancy between the two, joining all assets isn't something anyone smart would do. Jessica will try and get us to agree on leaving the marriage with the same assets or similar that they entered into it with, and that's bad."

"Inflation and all that, right."

"Obviously. You want to be slightly better off at least, or else what was the point in trying to live together? Although he doesn't even do that! He can't get an annulment; they have consummated this right?"

Nope. No, no, no, no. Not touching that.

"What?" Mike managed to fight the word out of him as his brain supplied him with several memories of that morning.

Louis went on a tangent. One Mike required to escape from before his face relighted into something that might give Louis a tan.

"Wow, I totally forgot something—" He stood, leaving the files there and abandoning the plan entirely. He wouldn't listen to the rest.

"You don't forget anything."

"No. I did. I did. Just there. Back in a second."

In a daze, Mike left. Went straight to Harvey's office and fell into that couch with no ceremony or explanation. Donna didn't even attempt to stop him.

"So?" Harvey prompted after no noise came from an unmoving associate after a few minutes.

He spoke into crook of the cushion and corner of the couch. "I need to cross the border, preferably to escape ever having to see Louis or hear him speak ever again."

"He said something that stupid? Did you realize how you aren't going to win this one?"

Mike twisted around to lay on his back, rubbed at his face, wanting desperately to hide from the visuals and audio that repeated in his head. He pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes. "Louis spent the last five minutes explaining annulments and how 'my friend' needs to be aware of how annulments happen and…"

He took a deep breath, probably audible to everyone on earth. Nothing, silence. Harvey pushed away from his desk, stood nearby. Mike didn't know how, maybe some sort of weird old human survival trait but he's certain he could feel him watching him. The hair on his arms stood.

"And? What? You flat-line there?"

"No, he used the word coitus and about how frequent and— I never need to hear those series of words spoken again."

Most of the time Harvey was a slave-driver, someone a bit too mean, a bit too eager to prove he was the best versus kind. Harvey looked as repulsed as Mike felt. Mike could have kissed him.

"A step up from this morning at least."

Forget it. He was a dick.

What should have been lunch had Louis, Jessica, Harvey and Mike in Jessica's office yet again. This time Harvey never sat down, no booze out only coffee and mocha and a terrible headache blooming behind Mike's eyes. A salad sat abandoned on Jessica's desk, while Louis paced worse than before.

Harvey interrupted here and there, adding random facts– namely about himself in a roundabout way that Louis and Jessica didn't quite pick up on it. They had noticed how much Harvey seemed to be having fun though.

"Why are we playing around with this when you two have bigger problems?" Jessica crossed her leg, tapped her foot. Mike made sure not to annoy her further.

"I'll deal with it on Monday."

The passive, the sheer dismissive tone of it all turned Jessica's laid-back attitude on its head. She turned to stare down Mike, and said, "And you ready to go to prison?"

And he was back where he was yesterday, not quite sure if he could breath, or stand or—

"Koalas wouldn't go to prison."

This fucking guy. Jessica and Louis both shared a confused look; were they missing something here?

Mike grabbed Harvey and dragged him out of the office, panic forgotten.

He could already hear Jessica and Louis talking furiously between themselves, 'what was all that about? What the hell was that?' and so on. Mike didn't care. His embarrassment twisted to anger, and he gripped onto Harvey's forearm harder.

"I will preemptively divorce you, congratulations, it'll be the first one in history." It was a snarl, Mike could feel it rumbling out of him. Quiet though because this empty hallway wouldn't remain that way for much longer.

Harvey never took a step back, only forward so he jerked his head away, shooed Mike's hands from him. He was smiling. Because of course he damn was. It held no warmth.

"You're going so red."

"Shut up," he hissed back through clenched teeth.

"Like redder than the Chicago Bulls' bull, it's quite impressive."

"I know because you–" It sounded too much like some cringe-worthy pet-name than a tease about that morning.

"Me? I did this?" The audacity this man had to point up and down at Mike's face like he couldn't see the all consuming blush going on there.

"Don't sound so proud of yourself. Why would you even say that?" Mike couldn't see any reason why Harvey would need to.

"Admit it, you've been on a losing streak since you woke up. I think Serah heard you as she was leaving too. I think you yelped, jumped ten feet in the air too."

Lies. That hadn't happened, Harvey had to know Mike wouldn't magically forget it. "I didn't yelp. I made no sound whatsoever. Stop it. What the hell are you doing?"

Classic Harvey, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Pretending to look disinterested. "Or what?"

"Or I'll go back home and I'll switch two DVDs and I won't tell you which two. You'll need to check every single one."

"Is that it?"

"And when you find the two I switched, I'll do it again and I won't tell you when I have, so you'll have to keep checking. Forever."

"Alright, no more." That was too easy.

"You serious?"

It took everything not to flinch away or tense and give away how much Harvey should stop leaning into his space. He held his breath. He didn't need to hear any of this. He didn't need to remind himself of Harvey's shampoo or his cologne or how, really, it wasn't too bad as Harvey hadn't whispered directly into his ear.

"Got you to stop panicking. didn't I?"

He felt disappointed.

Mike eyed him as Harvey returned to Jessica's office, and left them there. He retreated to the restroom, splashing cool water over his still reddening face.

Fuck.

Mike should have known, should have seen that Harvey standing down after any kind of fight, discussion, or vague assertion should be taken with great suspicion.

Donna delivered a plushie koala bear, large blue eyes filled with glitter and wrapped around a felt branch.

"It's cute and no I have no idea why Harvey asked to me to give this to you…. unless of course you already know. You hate it. You really hate it. Wow. I've never seen you angrier."

He wasn't going to marry Harvey. He was going to kill him.

"I think I'm going to murder Harvey with the first ever incident of death-by-plushie." In his hands, it felt soft and no doubt to anyone else looked like a cute toy. This to Mike said one thing: declaration of war. Clearly pulling Harvey away had pissed him off more than he let on with that smug smile of his.

"Donna when you next see Harvey, tell him the ties and discs are the least of his worries right now."

Donna nodded, in that all knowing way she did. "Okay? Are you two fighting? You might want to have a retake of the threats you're going for, they don't really give menace more annoyed tween."

"Yeah well." She flinched, at him or his tone he didn't know. "You make sure to see the panic in his eyes."

"…Okay, I'll let you simmer down before Harvey hears any of this."

Mike blasted through the three briefs he needed to write, not bothering even to greet Harold or take his questions on why there was now a mascot on Mike's desk. Four hours later, and finally, finally Mike could have some revenge for this. He grabbed the plushie by its stupid face and shoved it into a drawer.

He knew Harvey had some deposition from one of the governments food subsidy boards, though Mike hadn't been invited. He made sure to time it well, to walk by just as Harvey was about to do his 'let them wait in the meeting room and sweat it out for ten minutes' before waltzing in.

Harvey and Donna were in the middle of a discussion at her desk when Mike returned from the break room and its terrible coffee.

"Harvey, I'm going home for lunch." Harvey wasn't entirely immune to showing his thoughts on his face, and his face did twitch something but it came and went too fast to really know if he was hitting the right buttons. Donna looked at him in rising horror. "Oh, right you have that deposition. Oooo," he walked backwards toward the elevators, wriggled his fingers in the air at Harvey, "I wonder what I'm gonna do for an hour."

The deep grimace on Harvey's face, it lifted him up in a way that made each step lighter. A perfect day.

It was not Mike's fault if Harvey went into his deposition with a foul temper, no patience and absolutely no mercy. Funniest thing was, Mike sat in a coffee shop eating a croissant all the while Harvey fretted over his perfect system being messed with.

Later, Harvey sided up to the bullpen, hand gripping onto the office divider.

Don't think about the hands, brain. Cut it out. Don't even look at them.

"You are a brat."

"I didn't touch them. Or wait. Maybe I did. Maybe I just took a disc." Mike preened under Harvey's clear annoyance. "Ha. This is fun, isn't it?"

"Move." He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his office.

"Yeah, yeah." Mike followed.

"Donna give us a minute."

"Argument escalating or deescalating? I need to know if I'll be calling security." It was said tongue-in-cheek, everyone knew she was doing her usual fishing for gossip to use as currency for her group of secretaries.

Both of them spoke at the same time, granted they both said the opposite. Harvey went with escalating and Mike with de-escalating. Well, can't win them all. Donna left quickly, letting them continue to argue. Harvey said nothing till Donna walked away from her desk.

"I think they've figured out, which means we need to go do the rest of the plan tonight."

"Cool. Do you have enough time to do your hair?"

"My hair? Thin ice, Mike."

"What did you find a bald spot?"

It wasn't the cheek, or the speed that had them both pause. The venom touched on something, and Harvey said nothing in response. Mike expected a scolding. He expected yelling. What Mike expected wasn't what he received. What happened was silence, a slithering awful thing that made every second heavier and harder to breathe. Harvey leaned against the front of his desk, arms folded.

Harvey watching him— not looking, not like someone engaged in conversation would look at another person, but observing him like an animal behind glass.

"Sorry."

Mike shifted around a little, pinched and tense all of a sudden at the quietness with nothing else to focus on.

"Louis called me a gold-digger like five times this morning."

Whatever tension Harvey held melted then. "Mike. That's because he didn't know it was you when he was saying it."

Yeah, but…

"People are gonna so judge me for this aren't they? Like two dudes, yeah sure, whatever, but like—my boss. It's gonna suck."

Mike retreated to looking at the floor, exhausted all of a sudden. When he asked Rachel to marry him, he thought his life could slow down. He could stop fighting, scrapping and wearing down every nerve for some resemblance of peace. 

"Do you really think anyone's going to say something to the named partner—"

"That's what I mean." He cut Harvey off, "I'm just gonna be the 'named partner's partner,' like it took long enough for people to see me as me rather than your associate."

Harvey's favorite, Harvey's this, that, never Mike, never Mike Ross. Gold-digger, whether or not his co-workers' opinions would change on him meant little when in league with recognition for his work. His work. His abilities. If whenever Mike did well made Harvey look good then when did his work stay his, without Harvey's influence lorded over him?

"What do you want me to do about it?" It didn't sound defensive, not even close and it made Mike wonder if he knew. If he knew from experience, maybe from Jessica, or maybe from overhearing everyone else and only now putting the pieces together.

"Don't feed into, I guess, is all."

"Anything else?"

Mike shook his head.

"See you then?"

"Yeah." Mike nodded. Felt a bit better, so said it aloud in case his voice hadn't carried the strength of his conviction. "Of course. Plan goes on." The pranks meant nothing in the face of the ever approaching Monday.

Jessica called, "Sit down, Louis."

Three names drilled into the wall, and Jessica knew Harvey barely listened to a word she said anymore, more eager to show off and goad to Mike. Louis kept the status quo, though he tested her more and more. Wouldn't be long until she had to find a way to cut them both down if they needed it.

"You're just mad that Harvey's leaving this game all to you."

"Don't be petulant. Sit." He sat, and clearly resented he did. "You haven't noticed? This is Harvey." She threw the larger of the two files across the table, not caring if it fell to the floor.

"What, no? No, it isn't, why would it be Harvey?"

Louis looked over them, alongside his new perspective.

"Watch collection? Scotch collection? Do I really need to go on?"

If Harvey hadn't come to her, she wouldn't have looked so deeply into the details.

"Harvey's getting married?" Louis gasped. Harvey marrying? Jessica nearly laughed at how pleased, how hopeful Louis looked for the idiot. "He didn't even ask me to be his best man. Why wouldn't he ask me to be his best man?"

"I would imagine he would pick Mike for that unless…" She held up the smaller file.

"Harvey and Mike?" They sat in silence for minutes punctuated by the ticking of the clock. "You think... Immunity? To stop Harvey testifying?" Louis suggested it but didn't seem to believe his own words.

She couldn't tell if his disbelief was because it was on-brand with what those two idiots were known for: digging ever deeper into lies and deceit to keep each other out of prison, or if maybe Louis knew something she didn't. 

Jessica called another while Louis flicked through the pages more haphazardly, frantically, even checking on Mike's supposed file.

"Donna." The line remained quiet for a few seconds longer than necessary.

"Yes, Ms. Pearson what can I do for you?"

"How have Harvey and Mike been lately?"

"Fine. Got some weird bickering about blue-rays going lately, very intense stuff." Donna sounded wrong, not quite lying, there lay an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. 

"You keep an eye on them."

"Of course."

"Thank you, Donna."

Harvey would know soon that she knew. Were they really going to go with a fake marriage all to protect Mike's fake law degree? They weren't that stupid were they?

"Drag Harvey somewhere tomorrow morning, I'm going to go speak with the thorn that's been in my side ever since he showed up."

Louis stood first. "I can deal with Mike."

"No. They don't need to know we know just yet. Say nothing." Ambushing them would be better, on their own, with no way to collaborate stories or backtrack details told.

"They're getting married for court? That's extreme. Even for them it's—" Louis tried to finish his sentence with wild hand gestures. How did anyone describe hitching themselves to their boss for one moment of protection make sense?

"It is."

Jessica nodded. Wished her mocha had some alcohol in it for having to deal with these two.

"But Harvey hates commitment; what if he loves Mike?" Louis gasped. "What if it's true and this is that why he never wanted to share him?" Disgust washed over his face, he sat back down and Jessica tried not to roll her eyes at the dramatic noise of another gasp. "Oh god. I've been third-wheeling this whole time. Oh god, I called Mike a gold-digger like a hundred times this morning."

Jessica needed a laugh at that. Kid probably died on the inside. "Wish I'd seen it." She sipped some more and still wasn't certain how to play this, yet another, awful hand. "Louis listen to yourself. It's Harvey, this has lies written all over it."

"And I'm saying that because it's Harvey, I think Mike might be the only lasting relationship he has other than Donna."

"I thought you'd consider yourself a friend, if not a confidant of his."

He shifted on his chair. "Not like those two."

Jessica wanted to refute that. Desperately. Nothing quite fit like how reactive and proactive those two got around one another. Competing and goading were sought out in this field of work, yet they took it a step further. To hire a kid off the street, to lie to the judges and the juries of this city all for what exactly? Jessica could never understand Harvey's curiosity of Mike's mind. Photographic memory and orphan backstory be damned. 

"No, I suppose not like those two."

"Still marriage licenses here aren't exactly an overnight deal. They must have planned this weeks before."

"As if Harvey isn't pulling strings everywhere to jump the line," she scoffed. Harvey always found ways to bend the rules, found people willing to bend the rules for him specifically.

Jessica's mind strayed to the same thoughts she always had. She should fire Mike, for the hundredth time. Louis surprised her by staying in his seat and not leaving despite the lack of eye contact.

"We should pretend, you know," he said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Hmm?"

"If they are planning on marrying – it'll be over the weekend, if Harvey managed to wrangle the paperwork quickly. I'd say, maybe we should let them think we were tricked." He seemed proud of the suggestion.

"You want them to think they pulled the wool over our eyes again? Why would we give them the satisfaction?" She sat back in her chair, couldn't quite believe Louis was the one saying this.

"Keeps us out of another one of their awful secrets. That and both will panic if people mention others think they're a perfect couple."

Jessica laughed, a little too hard at that. Okay, that was hilarious. Did Harvey even know how to play husband? To be a good husband? She thought of Quentin. "That would make them give the act up at least. I don't think I want to see how they might flirt." Probably with movie references and something akin to pulling each other's pigtails.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" A wager, huh. Fine, Jessica could work with that. "A month. They're already arguing over useless bullshit like blue-rays."

"Not long enough for the FBI to lose interest and they'll be too paranoid to leave the lie too soon. I'll give it four months, they're stubborn."

"Deal." Louis stayed seated. "Now, please, get the hell out of my office."

Chapter Text

Friday night and the jewellery store lit up with bright, white lights under the evening sun. Both Mike and Harvey looked at the outside of it like a hero would a final boss. They sat in the car, Ray having been told to go grab a meal on them while they discussed some 'government' contracts.

Really, this didn't seem too bad so far. Mike let his head rest against the window. Glass cool and easing his headache. "Y'know, I always felt a bit embarrassed when I was engaged to Rachel. The whole planning thing. That her whole side's gonna be filled with people. And me? I'll have a few co-workers, and have to answer the usual: didn't you invite your parents, where are they?"

Harvey scoffed, in a good-naturedly way. "Makes sense we wouldn't have a ceremony then."

"Yeah, I guess it does."

He never knew how to feel about that. Going from Rachel's dream wedding to no wedding, all the while being relieved he wouldn't have to stand up there and see his side empty. Think less about how he would have a wife and more about who he had lost early.

He supposed, this made sense, logically. Still felt weird, wrong even, as if missing a step in some well-known recipe. Everyone expected a wedding to have a reception, the damn cake, the speeches. It all grated on him for not wanting it and yet having another part of his life missing out on what everyone else had. It placed him in a scenario he could never win.

"Nothing changes. You keep your name, I keep mine. My names on the wall, figure out a reason to keep yours." Harvey watched out the opposite window, to where they could see Ray if they needed.

"That's easy."

"Yeah?"

"Last thing I have of my parents."

"That'll work. Almost as good a reason as mine."

Mike's smile might have been fragile, small and unassuming, but he appreciated the humor instead of the usual response whenever he brought up his parents. Some got real awkward, some wore pity and sympathy as if that ever mattered and others clammed up making every other conversation stilted and somehow left Mike guilty for mentioning them at all.

"You keep your place, I keep mine. We see each other at work, that's more hours than most couples see each other everyday anyway." Harvey thought for a moment. "Couldn't help letting Serah see you every now and then."

No mention of the cuddling. Score. Mike watched someone leave empty-handed from the store. Should be okay to enter now.

"If I'm your associate how are you going to deal with the fact you've been in a relationship with a direct subordinate?"

That was the one issue that really might raise a problem. Jessica might use it to punish Harvey, or them both if she so willed it. 

"Like the elevator, ball's in your court."

"Oh, you mean I pursued you?"

"I thought we established you're after my money?"

It was so jarring, so unexpected, Mike winced. To have him joke about something Mike already told him bugged him. Why would he say that? But Harvey wasn't smirking. Or gloating like he normally would waiting on a snarky reply.

"Have I ever seemed money-hungry? To anyone? Enough to shack up with a boss? I don't think so."

The smirk returned and Mike sort of understood what was going on. Not that he had to like it, or agree with it. He was making Mike defend himself. Harvey wouldn't be able stop the onslaught of every comment, in the same way Mike wouldn't be able to defend himself from all of them either.

Mike didn't have to like it; he needed to know what to say back. 

"That's because you're past bosses weren't as nice as me."

Dude, seriously?

"What? I'm a catch."

"Yeah so's measles. Maybe you're just easy." Harvey took it in his stride, as if he expected it. "Plus if I really was going to marry a boss, I'd pick Jessica."

Scoffing Harvey left the car, kept the door under his hand. "Please, you can barely look her in the eye."

Mike made a gesture. "Terrifying, hot wife." He then gestured to himself. "Trophy husband. It could work. I'm pretty enough for it."

"What are you going to do if I call her right now and repeat that?"

A challenge that for a split second, Mike almost went for. And then he thought about how that would play out. He owlishly blinked and looked away. "I would have to skip the border and go back to Canada. Please don't." Mike made a swat at Harvey's phone and how rapidly he tapped on the screen with one hand. "Harvey, no." Bastard had even brought up her name in his contact list. "Harvey!"

Harvey laughed, one that forced Mike to stop. Obviously, Harvey wouldn't have done it.

"Anything else you wanna freak about before we do this?"

"There is something, letting you know now so you don't clutch your pearls later. Did date a dude in my twenties."

"Tell me it wasn't Trevor."

"No, worse. Trevor never stole my grandmother's pain meds to buy weed. I can't think of anything else. Call veto if something annoys you too much." Mike slipped out of the car, trying not to look around and see if there were cameras that might collaborate this later if needed.

"This still about the damned koala thing, isn't it?"

"You don't want me going through your movie collection you know how to stop it."

They hovered by the door. From what it seemed, empty, bar three young women who were on staff, each with neat black blouses and hair tied up into tight buns.

It wasn't unusual for Mike to take the lead on some days, hang back on others; strengths differed, clients responded better to one or the other; some found Harvey's experience calming, while others found him too abrasive and nonchalant to their moral stances. Mike 'the bleeding heart' usually lead on cases where he had to offer condolences or agree with the clients shitty situation without coming off as insincere. That or there were a lot of numbers involved.

A strange vanilla scent hung in the air, though not particularly organic, burning at the back of Mike's throat if he breathed in too deeply.

Anyone who worked a forward-facing job, to deal with the feral public made the same painful smile to each other before the set off to work. They were greeted, and Mike approached the lone woman off to the left. The two others had made a beeline for Harvey already. 

Harvey made a comment on the gaudiest, ugliest ring Mike believed existed.

"I don't think so, dude."

"Don't call me dude."

"You get to call me a gold-digger and you can't stand dude? Whatever man." The three ladies behind the the glass cases warily looked between the two of them. "I'll need to call you something else if I'm marrying you." Mike distanced himself from Harvey and the other two workers. "Hey, what's the worst pet-name you've ever been called?"

The lone woman pulled strand of her dyed blonde-hair behind her ear. "Uh, well, an ex of mine called me honey-peaches?"

He could see why. "Wow. Yeah." Her face grew a pink hue around deep dimples. "Crossing that one off the list then, that's a bit too much for him." He motioned with his head to Harvey, who at that moment was listening to a bunch of designers being listed off to him.

She laughed, an airy laugh that made more noise on the inhale.

"Hey, do you get a commission?"

"No. Just some bonus if you sell so many pieces per month," she spoke softly and Mike knew almost immediately that this woman was probably new, probably doing whatever she could to keep the job as she eyed the other workers. The other two ladies were bolder, suggestions Mike could hear even from here.

He leaned over the case a little, conspiring in a whisper, "I know it looks like he's the one with all the money." He took a second to glance to Harvey who had two ladies showing ridiculously pricey pieces.

That, that was a bit annoying.

"But we're here for two gold bands, that'll be engagement and wedding rings all in one. Oh and one gold chain, simple ones, nothing fancy, nothing with stones in it." He smiled at her, more nervous at the fact he was buying another gold ring. "If you wanna grab those while your coworkers are oiling the wrong wheel."

A genuine grin, she nodded, "I'll get them for you right away, sir." She bent down to take out the first of the rings, Mike didn't really know how to describe going through this for the second time. No less nervous.

"Actually, do you have those sonic baths? To clean old jewellery?"

"Of course, if you want to, you can come watch. It doesn't take very long, a few minutes at most." She beckoned him to follow. The back wasn't a storeroom or much other than a few tables and chairs, more like a break room and repair room mixed together, tools and machines scattered around, a mini-fridge in the corner.

He lay Grammy's necklace, a piece he'd never really seen her wear, on the table as the attendant poured in solution to the ultrasonic bath. A machine that looked like a car battery and a deep fat fryer had a baby, metal basket and all.

She handled it carefully. Mike liked her more already. She run her thumbs over the metal.

"Wow, haven't seen that style in while. It's a bit between the snake and herringbone." Mike nodded though hadn't a clue what she talked about other than it made her eyes glimmer.

The machine hummed oddly and the chain visibly wiggled inside the solution, an explosion of debris shaken from it as if were bleeding out from all angles.

"Just don't let him know how much came off that."

Harvey would never wear it otherwise.

She laughed, "Most people think because they can't see the dirt it's not there but it's like a beach of grime usually on anything that sits on the skin."

Tapping it dry with paper towels she returned it and Mike pocketed it.

"Let's get the rest of what you came for." She worked quickly, as if she expected Mike to jump service over her taking too long. 

"Thanks," she whispered as she handed over the small white and black boxes. Odd to have the items bagged up when they were about to rip the boxes open as soon as they returned to the car. There would be no ceremony for these pieces. "This really helps."

Harvey had already said goodbye, hovering by the door and keeping it open with his back.

"Hurry up, Mike."

He ignored him.

"No problem, have a nice night."

They'd have about ten minutes before Ray finished acting like he couldn't finish his caffeinated monstrosity any quicker. 

"Yeah, yeah, flirt with the cute worker, why not?" Harvey opened a box, twirled the ring around as if he'd never seen one before.

Mike snorted, not sure what Harvey was talking about. "I got everything while you talked."

"You get that you can't flirt till this is over, right?" An edge of frustration, one that made quick work to also annoy Mike. "You decide to go off with anyone you'll be known as a cheater because we can't say, 'actually we aren't together really', you get that right? Because if we have to say that then Daniel will say we lied to the court."

"If I go to prison I don't even get to pick what time I shower. I can handle not flirting but I'd say I'm more concerned for you on that front."

"Excuse me?"

Mike sat forward in his seat.

"I bought what we needed, what were you doing?"

"Watch yourself, Mike."

Mike knew all about how much that particular landmine would set Harvey off. Mike was a little offended at the accusation that he wouldn't be able to keep to himself.

"No, what did I do that you count as cheating?"

"Do you talk about pet-names with every service worker?"

Mike didn't want to hear it. "Because we were talking about it, and it made it awkward for them. It was a segue, not me flirting. We went in for wedding bands, you idiot. They thought we were gay; that's why she let me go in the back with her."

Mollified or not, Harvey said nothing more on it. Despite that, Mike saw it, the near uncomfortable expression at the word gay. Curiosity reared its head and Mike knew if he asked what Harvey's problem was, they'd argue. Argue enough that the plan might even be put in jeopardy. There was a story there, no matter how much Harvey side-stepped his questions on it earlier.

Harvey sighed. "They finished it quick." He threw the finalized prenup onto another seat. "A bit too quick. Louis asked me to come in tomorrow."

A rather forced distraction. Mike decided to follow it for now.

"Honeymoon, tell him you're sick and you'll see him Monday."

"And I can see you've had a petty hand in this version too." Mike didn't even need to have a photographic memory to understand that one.

"If I'm leaving with no alimony till five years in, I'm destroying the couch dude, that's just the way it is." He grinned. "Unless you wanna give me fifty-grand a year, we can keep this up for a bit longer." He pulled out his own sized ring. "Please, Harvey. I want the alimony," he said, high-pitched and sounding more like a muppet, shifting the ring over his thumb and finger as if it were talking.

Unimpressed.

Tough crowd.

"Good to know I'm about to marry a nerd."

"Says the Star Trek fan." Mike unboxed the newest chain, unfastened it.

"That's called having taste."

"It's called being a giant nerd." He slid the ring over it, and tried to put it on.

"You own Lego."

"I know. Be jealous all you want."

Mike ended up with the clasp out in front, fighting to try and see what exactly he was doing wrong. Finally, it attached and he set it correct. It felt weird. Heavier than he thought. Taking over, Mike grabbed onto Harvey's ring and pulled out Grammy's chain, well, he supposed it wasn't hers anymore. He repeated sliding the ring through it. The ring dangled on it, looking like some oversized charm.

"Uh, I should probably give this one to you. Right?"

It felt like too much. Handing off Grammy's engagement ring to Rachel had been a moment of catharsis. To hand over something old, given to him by someone he loved, to be given by him to someone he loved just as much. Handing over this chain meant a lot. And absolutely nothing at the same time.

Harvey looked, well, spooked.

Supposedly, a man who found great comfort in the idea of marriage to the point of symbolism was a man Harvey didn't know how to interact with like a normal human being.

"I'm not going to take your grandmother's chain, Mike."

If it were that easy, if Mike could simply never suggest it… they wouldn't be here in the first place.

"Have to. I gave Rachel her ring so, you need to," he said offering it in the palm of his hand. "So take it and you better make sure you keep it safe or we're not just divorcing. I mean it."

"You're sure you don't want to wear that one? We can trade."

Was that the part Harvey found difficult? To actually have some importance sitting at his throat all day until this ended?

"Turn round, or else I'm going to think you're stalling on purpose."

Harvey relented. Whether it was because it was Grammy's necklace or not, Mike found himself struggling to really put it on Harvey. The clasp was older, stiffer and wouldn't open wide enough for the loop. 

Ray knocked on the window to say he was back.

They both rushed and tucked the evidence below the collars of their shirts. They tried to settle. Only one last task to do now.

The registrar building that handled the licenses, the certificates reminded Mike of an old school refurbished in odd bits and pieces as if the architect couldn't make up their mind. Most of the people here were working late, coffees on desks and circles under their eyes. Stressed but focused going by how few people acknowledged them walking on by.

"Last chance to bolt."

Mike glanced around, a radio blasted a too peppy pop song for such a night. Leaned in to whisper, "They're not getting you, Harvey. Daniel can cry his little heart out on Monday."

"Then let's go sign some papers."

"Wow. A true Casanova for the ages."

This time, Mike followed Harvey who weaved in through some cramped desks and seating arrangements to end up in an office of someone who looked both too young and too old at the same time. Gray hair and thick glasses yet a youthful smile and enthusiasm behind the eyes.

"Harvey, good to see you." He shook Harvey's hand with two of his own, a grin plastered on his face.

"Andrew."

Someone Harvey helped sometime ago going by what Mike could piece together.

"Just have to ask you a few questions if you've not had anyone talk to you," Andrew spoke quickly, motioned to another door opposite the one they'd just came through.

Being split up hadn't been expected and Mike's heart rate spiked at being lead into a separate room. An intrusive thought he would be lead straight to the police only shifted when he was offered a seat nearby a busted vending machine.

"Are you certain you're here because you want to be and have no extenuating factors? Definitely want to marry him? And please no jokes, have to take all no's as stated fact. If you want a moment to think, we can do that too."

"I want to marry him."

"Good. Have your birth certificate?" Mike handed it over. "Alright. We'll have the forms out a second." Andrew leaned back on his chair, so far Mike wondered if he'd ever fallen over. Or even worried about it happening. "Funny to think him married." He hummed.

"I mean, I guess he's known as a bit of a womanizer?" Mike wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. What would he say if someone had said that about Rachel?

"No. Not that. I mean married at all." 

Okay, Mike laughed. "Yeah, okay. I get it."

No matter how close Mike believed himself to be to Harvey, there was always a bit of a wall. No, maybe a better term might be moat. Harvey never disappeared on him, never made himself hide or made himself smaller. But he would sometimes stand there and Mike could almost see him weigh up his options and return to his glass fortress, ordering and no longer listening to anyone anymore.

Andrew thanked the woman who entered later with more forms. Harvey had already signed first, flair in his signature. Mike signed without any reluctance.

And that was it.

"Normally, these take a while to officiate." Andrew laughed. "You're lucky Harvey's done us a few favors 'round here."

Before Mike had a chance to ask, Harvey was there.

"Finished?"

"I'll have the courier send a copy for your records. Return the birth certificates. Go have your honeymoon. Congratulations by the way." Andrew waved them away, focus still on the papers in front of him.

Mike thanked them out of manners, and a wonder on how or what Harvey done for some overworked civil sector. Or if it were Andrew personally, he'd helped like how he defended Ray in court all those years ago. 

Harvey stood near the exit but seemed distracted.

"What?"

"Hand." It sounded like how one asked a dog for a paw. Mike, confused at the request offered his hand anyway. Weren't they hiding them in chains? Wasn't that a whole point of contention yesterday? Why give him a ring now?

"No ceremony," Harvey said and Mike narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. And then, in a few seconds, he spun him round, leaving Mike with growing embarrassment at noticing the amount of people still around so late. "So that can be the first dance."

"That wasn't a dance, that was a twirl." Mike ignored, tried to, failed to ignore the people who looked on curiously, smiling, at the random action. This wasn't some church or fanciful event hall. This was a downtown office where people peeked up over paperwork and the black sludge of overtime coffee. They shouldn't even be here going by how much Harvey had needled the office into accepting them.

"You dick," he mumbled, rubbing at his neck and being surprised at how hot the metal felt.

"You might be a bit more convincing if you weren't blushing like a nun in line at a brothel."

"Brothels don't have lines."

"Wow. How'd you know?" Harvey was far too pleased with himself.

"Keep digging."

"A call back? Struggling that bad for something to say?"

"Just call Jessica and tell her you have the flu before they don't find your body."

Harvey grinned. "Still blushing though."

Mike ran to the car. He would never come back there. Never. He needed to do something.

"You can't just twirl a man in public, Harvey." Mike flustered and grumbling to himself. He decided then and there, he'd get him back.

"Two days off, not exactly the most luxurious of honeymoons."

The upcoming Monday was planned well enough. And the days where Mike should at least appear to have stayed over set. Mike's not exactly sure what else could be expected of him. Daniel might try and provoke them sometime down the line but staying at Harvey's was nice. Kept him away from the memories, the loneliness of his own place. 

"We have court Monday, no point jet-setting off anywhere."

"I say we drink, use Sunday to recover and deal with Monday in whatever state we're in."

"And if we need more than a day? We end up dead in court."

"People would definitely not be a hundred percent if they had a weekend as their honeymoon."

Harvey relented on that, only as an excuse to drink. The scotch was out in force and Mike suggested watching movies. There was one snag though, one Mike refused to ignore. One he needed to fix immediately.

"Popcorn? You can't have a movie night without popcorn."

With money came the oddity of being able to buy whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. An unusual system, when most of Mike's life was spent saving, looking for deals and deciding on if the heating or AC staying off to save a few bucks for Grammy's meds made sense that month.

If this had been him a decade ago, he would have returned with a single bag of already made popcorn, shared it and been left underwhelmed though satisfied.

Mike returned with a newly bought popcorn machine and three bags of kernels. Harvey sat on the couch, watching basketball replays when he returned.

"You bought a whole machine?"

Mike liked to think Harvey looked impressed at his initiative.

"Yeah." Mike unboxed it, dumping it onto the fancy kitchen worktop. "Don't worry, I'm taking it back to mine. Wouldn't want to ruin the boring aesthetic you've got going here." It didn't help that it looked novelty, bright red and white like it belonged in some 1940's commercial. Mike had always wanted something like this as a kid.

Giddy, Mike set it up, added the kernels in – thought that didn't seem enough – added more in and switched the machine on.

What noise erupted from the popcorn machine grew until they both had to raise their voices to hear each other over it.

"What the— did you buy the worst one?"

"Cheapest."

Harvey pulled a face as it began to whirl. Look, man, old habits die hard.

"It sounds like it's going to blow up."

"If it makes popcorn, I'm happy," Mike yelled louder than ever. Damn machine got louder too.

And the kernels popped, flew into the bowl with such speed it pushed others out. Soon an avalanche of white overfilled it, and the countertop around the bowl, and the floor.

"You're cleaning that up."

Mike clicked the machine off. "I may have overfilled it." Mike crunched some under his foot by accident. "A bit."

"Y'think?"

They settled in to watch movies, in silence for the most part. Until the booze came out, until the evening twisted into a night of rain and thunder.

A shot became another, and another, and another. And Mike giggled randomly at random things, spouting off facts about whatever they watched, about the actors or the directors, about backstage rumors. Mike stared off in space with the quietness of his brain by the third film.

Harvey shooed him to bed, and Mike stumbled around the place without a care in the world humming random music to himself. Occasionally, bursting out into a chorus of a song, followed by another chorus of another song entirely. 

"Harvey, I have a question. And you need to answer it. And not try and distract me or shut me down or, or lie. 'Cause I'll know."

"Can you even walk straight right now?" Harvey held onto his arm, and Mike wondered why everything seemed very skewered to the left. Harvey set him to stand up straighter with a hand at his side. Ah, that was better.

"Not the point. We're gonna sleep. And if you're sick, you're cleaning that up too."

Mike dismissed every word of that. He poked at Harvey's shoulder, slur apparent in his words.

"I've dated dudes so I'm fine with marrying one; why are you okay with this?"

"Never dated a guy in my life."

"There." He tried to point, but Harvey grabbed at his wrist with his other hand, made sure he couldn't quite get his finger to prod him back. "That face." Harvey leveled his expression out. "What's that all about?"

"It's my face. Are you that drunk?"

Mike blinked, slow and tired all of a sudden. Harvey looked sad. "Why?" They stayed there, Harvey sitting on the bed about to settle into his routine for sleep, while Mike stood by him – being held up with Harvey's firm hand. The silence nearly lulled him to keep his eyes closed.

"It's not important. Go to sleep, Mike."

"You're supposed to tell your husband everything."

Harvey laughed a sort of uncomfortable laugh, one expected to fill silence.

"It was the 70s, the 80s, Mike. What kind of story do you expect?"

A sad one, a depressing one? Mike wasn't sure, but he didn't like it. Didn't like how this might be bigger than Harvey let on and wasn't talking about it. He was sad. "You're sad. It's sad?" Mike mumbled to himself, not quite making too much sense in his alcohol addled brain. Bouncing back, Mike grinned, realizing how to fix this.

"Well, when this is all over, I'll be the best wing-man and find you the coolest dude."

"Don't want a dude."

"Yeah Mr. Repressed, sure you don't. Pity hug for you." Mike hugged him, though probably counted less of a hug as Mike only squeezed his head into his chest. Harvey's hair was very soft.

"Off." Harvey tugged at the back of his shirt. He refused to move. No, no, no. Mike shook his head, furiously and mumbling that it was okay. "Mike." He felt Harvey sigh against him, and Mike squeezed him tighter. "You finished?"

Had to be, really, Mike's eyelids grew heavier and heavier in this too comfortable darkness. He moved away and fell onto the bed.

"You keep your secrets then."

"Harvey." Mike groaned and hated himself for it, held his head in hands and swore. It felt caught in a vice, a painful thump every few seconds. His stomach rolled, bubbling and cramping and Mike fought back the urge to vomit.

"What did I drink?" Flashes of images, sounds, pieces of conversation. Movies playing, that he remembered well. Popcorn, and then god, what did he drink? How much had he drank?

"No sympathy here."

Harvey sped passed him in his sweatpants and hoodie, didn't so much as turn around.

"You're husband's dying and you're not worried?" Mike goaded him.

"Nope."

Harvey left, door closed too loudly making Mike retreat into the pillows. What did he do to deserve the chilly responses? He couldn't really remember.

He burped, and launched himself into the bathroom. Sunday was gonna suck.

Chapter Text

Jogging always woke Harvey up more than any shower ever could. Mike's physical clinginess last night scratched at old wounds that Harvey would rather not dwell on. So, he ran earlier and harder than normal, his lungs burned and his legs grew heavier and heavier and he pushed on as his clothes darkened with sweat.

Mike hardly needed to know. They were married for now, and so long as they kept it quiet enough, his family would never know of it.

The idea of taking a call from any of them forced Harvey on, across another street and another.

His relationship with family veered from strained to dysfunctional at best.

Growing up, like any older brother, heard the mantra he needed to keep his little brother safe. Protect him. Marcus never spoke his mind, went along with ideas regardless on whether he knew the idea itself was wrong or dumb. He desperately wanted to be liked and Harvey found it maddening. Grow a spine, Marcus. He told him constantly.

If Marcus did something wrong, he shared in the responsibility. Many days of his Summer vacation were punishments alongside the phrase: you should have stopped him. Harvey only resented it now, never when he was younger. Back then he believed his parents words as law, that he had failed not only his brother but hadn't risen to the occasion.

By the time Harvey's eyes started to wander, he'd made a mention of it to his father. A man whose words meant the world to him.

"If you can like girls, Harv, you stay with that. You think the kids 'round here will understand anything else? Think of your brother, they might not mess with you, Harv, because you'll fight back but Marcus won't."

So, Harvey let those eyes stay on the pretty girls who smiled sweetly at him and not on anyone else. Marcus was little, still too easily pushed around.

And then of course the cheating, a hand grenade given to him to launch into his family by his own hand. The betrayal from all sides. His brother telling him he should have just kept quiet, since then nothing would have changed. His mother resenting him for eventually telling and his father betrayed because he had known and kept it from him.

Well, Harvey was finished keeping quiet for them all. As soon as he left to study law, when he realized he could bludgeon the opposition and win, nothing mattered after that. No more needing to keep the peace, no more needing to listen to people who didn't know anything. He sent a card at Christmas, and ignored the idea of returning home to spend any time with them. A family of traitors, a family that needled at each other. He loved them, and as time continued on he wasn't sure he liked any of them.

Only Mike murmuring and nuzzling into his scalp had him wonder: What kind of bullshit would they try if they found out he married Mike? He didn't want to know.

Really the only positive in marrying Mike was being able to tease him more over stupid shit that didn't matter. He ended up stopping, laughing quietly to himself, doubled over as his breathing became ragged.

Drunk Mike was clingy enough to snuggle into his hair. Mike's drinking habits were one lacking in any inhibition, Harvey didn't need to know he probably did a lot of stupid stuff because of it.  

Harvey noticed three main changes in Mike after his first embarrassing night. And then a further two after last night's binge-drinking.

The first, and really the most noticeable: the blushing. Mike showed his emotions clearly, and Harvey witnessed everything from anxiety to pride, to stunned silence to barely contained excitement. Blushing, that was new.

Especially how red he went, it seemed almost worrying how quickly Mike's skin would brighten. A hand crawling up his neck and over his cheeks and covering his ears, painting everything a bright red. His blue eyes ended up brighter because of it.

How, or why, the blushing happened… Harvey wasn't certain on that one yet. He thought at first it was any time he referred to him cuddling into him that one morning. But sometimes nothing. He thought it a proximity deal, but there were times when he went so far as touching Mike and nothing. No rapid blinking, no freezing.

A few times, he wondered if it was to do if Harvey pointed at him - only because Mike seemed like a gambler at the racetracks, watching his horse until the end. Only the horse in that analogy was somehow, his hands. Then other times, he avoided to look at them entirely.

Weird. Harvey still was no closer to working out what triggered it.

The second was using his shoulder to rub at his ear. It might be understandable if his hands were full but whenever Harvey caught sight of him doing it, he was off in his own world, hands empty. A vacant stare usually followed it. Sometimes he did it once, sometimes he rubbed his ear so hard it looked like it could hurt. Sometimes he did it in another room entirely and Harvey could still tell by the redness on one side.

Thirdly, if puppy was the label of Mike of old, then it was slowly changing into feral, angry alley-cat. His shoulders always hiked up an inch or so, a guarded glare and a threat or insult out of his mouth. Funny, really to have his hiss, all the while red and flustered.

He returned from his jog, despite going harder than normal, and showered and dressed before he even heard Mike from the other bathroom.

"If you die that's not going to look good for me," Harvey said peering into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

Mike sat on the floor, next to the basin of toilet, hands covering his face. "I'll pay you to kill me right now," he croaked, voice hoarse. Yeah. "I think I'm dying." His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

"Dramatic much?"

"Come here and say that."

"No thanks, vomit face."

Mike groaned painfully as he crumpled into himself, and curled up against the tiles in the fetal position.

"Not being a good husband," he spoke, words muffled. Harvey never wanted the title, the responsibility of husband; it was difficult not to snort and leave him there in the misery of his own making.

"What? You want me to fuss over you?"

Harvey's not even sure how someone would fuss in this situation, was he to ask if Mike was okay five hundred times in a row? Pet him on his head and tell him how it was such a shame? Harvey dealt with fussy people with the same brush as those he didn't hire. Ignored and forgotten.

Another hiccup, and a close thing to a burp and Mike said, through gritted teeth, "only with all the pain meds you have."

Hell, anyone could do that.

Harvey returned with a strip of painkillers and a bottle of unopened water. "Here, you big baby." He sat them in front of Mike. Who uncapped it with surprising speed and dexterity for a guy that puked his guts out most of the morning.

"There's toast in the kitchen if you want it."

Well. There was bread, a possibility of toast certainly.

"I could go for some toast."

"Good." If Harvey made it retroactively, Mike would never know. So he left Mike to grumble and complain to himself. 

He plunged the two pieces of bread into the toaster and wondered if the smell might summon the undead Mike Ross from the bathroom.

Even as the day dragged on, Harvey glanced over to watch Mike munch at the same slice of toast as he sat at the kitchen counter with another slice nibbled. He'd blushed three times in the last few hours and Harvey hadn't a clue why. The quietness he attributed to the hangover.

The bickering hadn't been any crueler than normal, jabs at work ethic and missing deadlines, past fuck ups. Once Monday came and went, Harvey would make it a mission of his to figure it out, until then he left Mike in peace. At least there was no need for suits and laundered shirts, there'd be no way to make Mike look presentable. 

On Sunday afternoon, Harvey received the documents, returned were the birth certificates and marriage licenses and those marriage certificates too. Excellent. Having these on hand would make it easier to convince the judge to offer immunity from having to testify a word against Mike.

Speaking of Mike, he hovered by the door to Harvey's home office, antsy going by how he seemed to take in the room.

"Hello."

Well, Harvey didn't trust that innocence for a second. "Hello?"

"Just gimme a second." Mike disappeared again for a bit.

"Okay?" Harvey stopped typing on his laptop, a little too cautious on what he might be up to. An email saying thanks to Andrew abandoned. Watched Mike as he sided up to him and then spun the chair like a child would.

"And he equalizes! The crowd goes wild."

Alright, if that's how Mike wanted to play it.

"Feeling better?"

"Much."

"Good." Harvey stopped the chair spinning with his foot, and pushed himself off.

"Wait. What're you doing?" He backed up.

"Making sure you never do that again," he said. Mike made a move to the open space of the kitchen. Harvey followed, the same thrill at winning taking over.

"No, not fair. I'm sick, hungover, not a fair fight, dude." Mike scooted around furniture, circling it and seemingly eager to put space between them. Round the kitchen counters, round other tables and chairs, zig-zagging around the apartment.

"Calling me dude is not helping you any." Harvey made a point to look between them. "And so much for hating this couch. It looks like the only thing saving you right now."

A knock at the door had them both curious.

Harvey hadn't asked for anything else to be delivered, and Mike's frown said he hadn't either. Neither of them moved to answer it. Another series of knocks. They still didn't move.

"It's your place, you answer it," Mike goaded him again.

"You're closest." Harvey didn't care all that much.

Harvey stayed where he was, it might be his home, it might be his prerogative to open the door and see who it was. But Mike was by far more polite and each ignored knock seemed to frustrate him further. That meant all Harvey had to do was wait him out. 

"Who is it?" Mike yelled, making no movement.

"It's Donna. Why aren't you opening the door?"

"We're having a stand-off. Come in."

The rattling of keys. She let herself in, looked between the two of them at opposite ends with understandable confusion. Harvey wasn't going to explain, she wouldn't understand.

"What exactly are you two doing?"

"What he said," Harvey said, hands in his pockets waiting for Mike to falter. If Donna was here to see it, it would add to the embarrassment. Maybe remind Mike he couldn't win against him, not really.

"Riight. You two remember about court? Monday morning? Ringing any bells? And you two are playing, whatever it is your playing at, what do you think you're doing?"

Mike shifted, awkward and desperately trying not to look at Donna. Don't even think about it, Harvey wanted to say. He glared, don't you even dare Mike Ross—

"We should tell her."

You little—

Harvey's answer was immediate, "No."

Telling Donna, out of everyone in the firm, he was married left him feeling awkward. They didn't have the most straightforward of history, they could have been something if not for Harvey's insistence that private and work life should never mix.

Hell, now he was married to Mike of all people.

Saying they were married for legal protection might the easiest explanation. Everyone else had no way for the FBI to pressure or push or blackmail their way into annulling this marriage. Harvey grimaced, quickly hid it away behind a veneer of smugness and sighed. But only if they didn't know that. For Donna to use that safety she too had to think it; they were being genuine.

"Tell me what?" Donna shifted her bag over her shoulder. Normally letting Donna into plans or sharing gossip had her gleeful and energetic. She kept herself too quiet. That woman was too sharp for her own good. 

"She'll worry otherwise."

Shut up, Mike. He wanted desperately to have him stop. Unlike before, Mike digging a hole buried Harvey alive. Donna gave him a look that said more than enough as Mike and Harvey each pulled their chains out of hiding.

"Wait you got married?" She turned and noticed Mike's too and she yanked so hard on it he stumbled forward. Almost close enough to knock heads. She looked at the ring at then to Harvey. It took a lot not to flinch at her horrified expression. "You married the puppy?"

Nothing for a bit. Nothing but the ticking of a clock and the rise in a tension that told Harvey not to speak a word. Mike wide-eyed, seemed terrified of Donna, as if he instinctively knew the landmine he set off, ducking his head and trying to quietly fade from existence. Harvey and Donna stared, Donna, well, she—she was suspicious.

Right. Had to be convincing; it was to make things easier for her in the long run.

"Well, he proposed." He tried to come across as flippant. 

"You two…"

He didn't know how to say it without hurting her. And he never wanted to hurt her, even if he was just reiterating the conversation from years ago. How did anyone manage to say how they would never be in love, that those crossroads were long passed, and all without causing pain?

Mike broke the silence. "Don't tell anyone." A phenomenal relief, when Donna's attention returned to Mike even for a moment. It let him breathe. Think. "Harvey might end up in trouble, y'know, direct superior and all that."

"…You're serious?"

Harvey wanted to say sorry but he wasn't the kind of person who apologized when he didn't think he did anything wrong. He caught the glint of her welling up eyes. She let go of Mike. He stepped away and hid the chain, probably to lower the chances he'd be choked out with it.

"Sure. Let's all make fun of Donna for worrying about you two."

"Wait."

She stormed out, a whirlwind of red hair and the loud clicking of her high heels following.

"You should go speak with her." Mike wore confusion as best he could. "She seemed hurt."

Harvey had to scuff on a pair of old sneakers to even think of catching up to her. 

The worst thing about running after a woman who might still be in love with him, was Harvey didn't want to have that conversation. He wanted to pretend it never happened, that even the possibility never showed itself.

"Donna."

She got in her car. "No, Harvey."

"Listen," he said as he stood at her car door but in no way put himself in the way of it. She slammed it shut. Held onto the steering wheel, keys already in the ignition.

"No."

"Donna."

She jabbed her finger to a button and the whirl of the driver seat's window lowered completely.

"Why did you think I could know about him lying about law school, about you hiring him anyway, and it just vanished from your mind that maybe, maybe it would have been nice to know you two were together so I didn't have to sit and worry about you two going to prison because Daniel asked too many questions?" He wanted to tell her this was for the best, some round about way to ask her to trust him. She continued, "Do you ever think of anyone else but yourself?"

He flinched at that. In his younger days, no expectations on anyone else meant no expectations on him. That's not how the world really worked. There were always expectations, from everyone. Bitterly, Harvey thought of his family, hated how to still wormed their way into his thoughts even now. 

"If it makes you feel any better you're the first we've told."

He grasped at every straw, every possibility that maybe, maybe this reason or excuse would calm her down, would make this not be crushing and cruel. 

"You got married. To Mike Ross." She rubbed at her eyes. She scoffed. "I can't believe this. When, where?"

"No ceremony, no reception. We signed our names because we both hated the idea of who we had to invite, or we couldn't invite."

"Mike proposed to you?"

Did he tell her? Or was this going to be labelled in future as an act of self-sabotage? "In an elevator he emergency stopped, yeah."

"Always had a flare for the dramatics that one." A second, a flash of a smile, and then it died.

"We good?"

"I'll see you Monday, Harvey."

That's really all he needed to hear; so he let her leave. He watched the car shrink into the distance, wondering if on Monday she would have a resignation letter ready or simply ready to work. Work like normal, like they had been the last decade without all the... muddled sentiment. 

Mike hadn't moved from where he was last, and Harvey threw his shoes off not sure if he was grateful not to be alone, or that his home wasn't empty for him to take time to himself.

"How is she?"

He hadn't a clue and he couldn't say that. Mike might try and fix some perceived problem. Bugging Donna later would only create more issues. He decided to shrug, pretend this happened more often than not. 

"Don't worry about Donna."

Mike weighted his options, and eventually said, "If you say so." And then took a very deliberate, showy step back, and then another equally showy step to the side.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." 

"Are you going to do this whenever I'm near you? That's going to make work pretty weird for everyone."

"Do what? I'm doing nothing. I'm just walking around." And again the couch stood in his way. 

"Sure you are, and I could just step over the couch."

Mike snorted at him, as if he made a joke. "Woah, calm down there, Rambo." Mike laughed, grin back in place as if Donna had never been here. "Don't want you to pull a muscle or anything."

Okay, Mike needed to put in his place. Preferably in last place.

So, Harvey did what he said he was gonna do. It took all of two steps, a little hop down and he swiped at Mike and hiked him off the floor and—Mike squawked in surprise at being picked up. They froze; Mike grabbing a harsh hold at Harvey's shoulders and side.

"What, what noise did you just make?" Laughter nearly made it impossible to hear Mike's answer filled with bravado and bluster. He squirmed in Harvey's grip.

"What noise, you're totally hearing things old man." Harvey dropped him over the back of the couch, he rolled with the momentum and kept going, landing on the floor with a thump. "Oft."

"What was that about you equalizing?" Silence. "That's what I thought."

He huffed to sit up, and Mike yelled as Harvey left to go finish that damned email.

"You're gonna regret that. This's the start to your Emu War."

"History? On a Sunday? Nerd," he yelled back.

"You got the reference! Self-own if I've ever heard one!"

"Who's still on the floor?" The silence was his answer, and really, Mike had a point to prove now and Harvey knew what that meant. 

Normal attorneys came with a competitive streak. Mike seemed to embody that several times over. On the other hand, Harvey wasn't going to up and lose because Mike made a dumb game. Look. There was a reason Monopoly was banned in his house when he was younger.

By the end of the day, Mike managed four, Harvey managed six and both of them eyed each other, overly conscious of where the other was at all times. Chairs were spun, bodies pulled and pushed, Mike managed to almost push Harvey out of bed with his legs.

Harvey said into the dark: "Remember when you equalized? That's never happening again."

"That's what always happens to the underdog; we sneak up on people like you."

Harvey fought back laughter. If Mike hadn't half the fight in him, it wouldn't be nearly so fun. 

Monday arrived. They rushed to ready themselves and be at the courthouse early, see the idiot Daniel and the excitement of a plan near execution.

Mike checked the inside pocket of his jacket three times in quick succession for the documents.

"Not nervous are you?"

"No, why would I be? Just telling everyone we're married." He rubbed at his neck and Harvey saw a flash of gold before he pushed the metal back under his collar.

"We'll talk to the judge. Keep the damage to a minimum."

In a flash, Mike's upbeat though nervous demeanor changed to frustration. "Word of advice," he said, and Harvey thought he sounded a bit too angry over such a minuscule comment. "You ever get married again, Harvey. Try not to say you think the whole concept as 'damage'."

If Harvey wasn't the type to appreciate marriage then Mike opposed him in every way. He'd be married now, Harvey had to remind himself. If things hadn't gone awry with Rachel and their lies, he'd be off doing whatever he thought good husbands did.

Harvey's mood skyrocketed as he spied Louis and Jessica spectating. He waved and they glowering in their seats at him.

Everything flowed well, the judge being efficient with his own time and everyone else's. Harvey took to the stand, answered the basic questions to confirm his identity and then Daniel Shithead Extraordinaire started asking those pesky Mike Ross questions.

Good. Go, ask. Ask.

"And Mike Ross was someone you hired?"

"Yes."

And that was it, a mention, that's all he needed.

Mike left the spectating public benches and stood by the short bat-wing barrier, waved, "Can I approach, Judge?"

"Mike Ross? Just because the prosecutor is talking about you, you don't need to—" Judge Parrish hated being interrupted and Harvey knew that face of Mike's. He was going to talk and talk until someone stopped him.

Don't fuck this up.

"Important, promise." Mike smiled, pulled out the papers from his inside pocket and waved them. But Parrish seemed to allow the interruption. Huh. Usually, whenever Harvey tried cases here, Parrish lacked any warmth or exception for him at all.

Harvey caught Jessica whispering to Louis. Both of them failing to keep the agitation from how they held themselves.

Mike handed over the files and the Judge shuffled papers to find and place on a pair of fine eyeglasses on his face. He read in a completely silent room, upturned mouth after a quick glance to Harvey, he called out.

"A five minute recess, council my chambers." The gavel rang out. Harvey grinned at the confusion in the court. This was a good day.

Judge Parrish's chambers were minimalist at best and awful by any metric or sense of taste. As if pieces from numerous style catalogues were selected at random. An old plush chair behind a sleek desk, a rug carpet with squares and triangles, and terrible artwork slapped onto ever free wall space possible.

"You can't be serious." Daniel's gaze jumped between them both. "They don't even have rings."

"We do."

They showed them off and the judge seemed to nod only at Mike. Daniel turned a strange shade of purple and red, fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

"You're married and wish to enforce your right to immunity? This seems like an overstep Mr. uh—" For the first time since Harvey ever saw Judge Parrish, he scratched at his balding head and didn't finish his sentence.

Mike piped up, "We kept our names." And the judge, relieved, hummed in acknowledgement.

"This is a sham! Of course you marry as my subpoena is filed. How convenient."

"We didn't even know about it until this morning. If we had I wouldn't have had to arrive here hungover," Mike lied easily. Almost impressive considering how much he liked to spout moralistic bullshit at times.

Judge Parrish looked down at the documents again. "Says here they married Friday. Unless you want to accuse my courthouse of letting something leak." That threw Daniel, and he stumbled from point to point.

Harvey wished he brought some popcorn for this. If only recording wasn't banned here. Daniel floundered and no one gave him a rope.

"No, of course, Judge, but it's quite obvious this is making mockery of the court. This was simply done so I couldn't ask them questions, which is the height of suspicion if you ask me."

"Obvious?" He set the pair of eyeglasses down. "Whether this marriage is a sham as you say or not, that isn't what my court is to rule on, neither is your clear dislike for Mr. Specter." He shot Harvey a most vicious glare. Alright so Mike clearly had some favor with this Judge.

"You two, if you have lied under the greatest oath to keep from telling the truth, you will be found out soon enough. Otherwise, Agent, I suggest you ask the questions of Harvey that do not involve his husband or go to the next name on your list."

Daniel glared at the terrible mismatched rug. "The next witness would have been one Mike Ross–"

"And if you have no such questions that don't pertain to each other you can ask them. I don't see why this should continue to waste the court's time if not."

"I think we can move to dismiss this," Harvey suggested. Much like Daniel, Judge Parrish met him with a grumbling expression that held only irritation.

"No, an extension. Please," Daniel desperately said.

"I'll grant you some extra time, but after that?" He shook his head, handed the documents back to Mike. 

"Thank you." Daniel thought about shoulder checking Mike on the way out, but he must have noticed the way the judge treated him and shuffled out quickly.

"Mike Ross."

He perked up immediately. "Yes, Judge?"

"Two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice each with a pinch of salt should do you the world of good."

Harvey tried not to laugh. What did this old timer think himself as a surrogate grandfather? He'd never heard any Judge not even the more lenient ones, hand out hangover cures to attorneys.

"Thanks. I'll try that."

Harvey snorted. Favorite might not be too far off.

They left and as soon as they were out of earshot Harvey asked, "Judge Parrish seemed to like you."

"Been in front of him a few times. Nice dude."

Nice dude? Those were not the words he would use. Harvey tried not to take offense at that. Judge Parrish was a stick in the mud, constantly trying to pull Harvey this way and that — refusing most of his motions because of tone. Exhausting judge to be in front of and here Mike waltzed around like the guy was the definition of eager politeness.

"Everyone's been in front of him – think he's older than the courthouse."

"Difference is I'm likeable." They stayed inside, letting Ray know they would need picked up. Mike began to fidget again, shifting from foot to foot, or pacing as they waited. "We should celebrate."

"Little early, we don't know what he'll hit back at us."

What could one week do? What could Daniel, Mr Dumbass FBI agent do in one week? Well, if the worst comes to the worst, they could always leverage Mike's hurt feelings against the judge himself. Might even work.

"I'm not saying that's it, I'm saying I want takeout."

"And I'm the easy one?"

He motioned to him with a hand. "Low maintenance." Then to Harvey. "Easy." They both looked down at Mike's outreached hand and then each other. Alarmed, Mike stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Don't even think about it."

This was great. He had a way to mess with Mike without even doing anything.

Chapter Text

Donna sashayed into his office mid-morning in her usual 'I know something you don't know' way, handing off the more important mail to Harvey personally and staying put. Notably no resignation letter, no cryptic messages or emails from her yet. In fact, everything seemed so ordinary that Harvey started to wonder if he'd panicked, or misconstrued how betrayed Donna felt yesterday.

"You know, I thought you were lying about the whole Just Married thing."

"Really?"

She was leading to something, Harvey just didn't know what yet.

"Hmm, and if you were hoping to keep it a secret, Mike's failing on that front. I've seen him blush about a thousand times just this morning. Even Harold's noticed."

So, Mike was doing the whole blushy-ear-rubbing habit here too? Maybe it wasn't Harvey himself as the catalyst for all the odd behaviors. They'd married at the weekend, if whatever was causing Mike to be a blushing bride, so to speak, maybe it happened before the whole scheme even came to fruition? Maybe Donna had noticed anything significant.

"He's blushing? Air conditioning broken in the bullpen again?"

Donna tapped her well manicured nails against her arm. "Blushing, not flushed. He scowls, he works, someone asks about the koala, he looks at koala, he blushes, he scowls…"

Harvey laughed, a bursting hurtling noise that ripped out of him without much warning that surprised both of them. Had Mike honestly been asked about the koala? Had he actually had to come up with an excuse all the while thinking along the lines of: 'yeah, I cuddled with my boss, and now he's teasing me about it, what of it?'

God, had Louis asked him? So Mike had stewed in his embarrassment all morning?

Harvey calmed to a grin. "Tell him he can throw it out if he wants to, but I'll get him another one."

"You will?"

"You can buy another one from the same place as last time."

"And why would I, the secretary extraordinary, buy your husband plushies during work hours?"

"Done it before." Harvey shrugged. "Fine, team morale?"

"Well, for one, Mike doesn't look like he's enjoying the gifts."

"Mike? Forget him. My morale."

Unimpressed, Donna said, "If that's all Harvey." And left. Harvey could tell they'd need to talk eventually about it all but so far the status quo remained and he was never one to gush or reveal his deeper feelings unless absolutely necessary.

The day continued on, busy enough Harvey barely spotted Mike's hair peeking from atop his cubicle.

After a quick court hearing where the defendant folded and settled within a few minutes, Harvey returned to find the koala plushie on his own desk, its head sitting next to its body like a makeshift Halloween decoration.

Mike made himself at home, squatting down by the shelves and flicking through the records despite probably knowing exactly the order and where the record he wanted was already.

"Are you trying to seem like an unstable psychopath?" He picked up the head and the jagged edges around the cut. Threw it up in the air and caught it like a baseball.

"You said you'd get a new one if I threw it away. I haven't thrown it away."

"You cut off its head."

"With scissors." He practically preened at that. "Now that's a callback."

Cute and all, though it didn't explain why Mike decided to waste time in Harvey's office so early on in the work day. "Don't you have anything better to do? Instead of putting your hands all over the greatest record collection you'll ever see?"

"No, I'm bored. Louis took all my cases."

"Yeah, back up there buttercup. Why would he do that?"

"Wedding gift? I guess?"

There was no way Mike missed this. Again. Harvey sat, watched Mike carefully. Was there a screw loose that came with the photographic memory or was this just a Mike thing?

"You let Louis take your cases?" He spoke it aloud, prayed Mike would cut him off, tell him he misunderstood.

"Yeah? He seemed bummed we didn't invite him."

He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. Mike Ross, sometimes he seemed too naive even now, even after all the mentoring and all the advice still this—Goddamnit Mike. Mike picked up on his annoyance, slowly standing, records forgotten and giving a nervous glance to Louis' office.

"Alright, so you think Louis would be grateful enough to not have been invited to a wedding he wanted to go to, and in turn would do all your work for you because you categorically didn't even mention you were getting married?"

Mike's easy confidence thawed. "When you put it like that—"

"That the files that have your name plastered all over them are going to crash and burn and it won't be his fault? It'll be yours." He slowly made his way to leave.

"I should… go do a thing."

"Next time don't hand over your work to other people."

Mike didn't take that well. "You do that to me all the time!"

And Harvey couldn't handle any back talk right now, not when Donna listened in so often. What else was she going to use against them? He'd have to tell Mike to keep his mouth shut too, just in case. "Named partner. Not named partner, I can't make it any clearer. Now go get them back."

Donna buzzed on the intercom after Mike fled.

"Why did you marry him again?" Harvey snorted, ignored the urge to smile over the memory at the courthouse.

"He's low maintenance." See Mike, this was a good callback. A shame he wasn't here to hear it.

"Seems like a lot of work from where I'm sitting." Definitely needed a talk; but not yet. Preferably never.

"Goodbye, Donna."

"And buttercup, really?"

"Bye, Donna." He cut the intercom off.

Louis marched into Jessica's office at lunch. Ready to fight, ready to plan and have both Mike and Harvey beg forgiveness. He sat himself down and ignored the fact Jessica was mid-eating one of those plastic boxed salads. Really the calories were all in the dressing, Jessica should know better.

"What if they're really married? What if they're pretending to pretend so we don't kick up a fuss and ask questions? What if they're pretending to pretend so we don't notice them pretending when everything's going wrong under our noses?"

"Excuse me?"

"I've been watching them both, not like they'd notice, trapped in their own little world. Horrendous. Awful stuff."

"Louis how many cappuccinos have you had?"

"Hm, enough. A few. Seven. I've watched them. I have seen Harvey laugh. With tears in his eyes. I've never seen him do that before. In fact I can't remember the last time I heard him laugh."

"Louis, you need to cut back on the caffeine."

"I'm telling you, Jessica, they're double, triple bluffing us here. I won't be made a fool of—"

Jessica pointed her plastic fork at him, a roasted baby tomato on the end. "If you disturb my lunch for one more gossip session about what Harvey or Mike may or may not be doing – whether that is each other or not – I will throw you from this damn floor's window." She shrugged, more interested in her meal than Louis' paranoia. "Leave them be, they'll mess up eventually, so whatever you think you're going to do. Don't."

Louis huffed. He had to do something. Anything to weasel out the truth.

He knew Mike was about to share bad news, how he hovered near the glass door, kept his hand on the handle. Ready to run. They stared at each other for moment. Assessing each other's mood and trying to guess what that meant before words were spoken.

"You didn't get them back did you?"

"I did." Mike shifted. The words paining him. "I may have put us in an unfortunate situation in future."

"Story of my life." Mike looked to his shoes, pout a near thing. Harvey took pity on him. "What is it? What does he want?"

"Louis wants to be your best man whenever we renew vows." Harvey hated that idea, didn't even try to hide it. "It was that or accepting tickets to see Hamilton, with Louis as seat number three." Okay. He hated that more.

"So, cases back?"

"Cases finished." Harvey was about rip into him, tell him how stupid did he really have to be to think Louis would have closed all those cases without some agenda or trap hidden in them. Mike interrupted the very thought of a lecture. "By me. Waiting on some phone calls to let the clients know but that's it."

"Not bad considering you fucked up the entire day."

Mike winced. "Well, I'm going so I'll see you tomorrow." He rubbed at his neck. "Unless there's anything I can—"

"You've done enough. Go home." A quick wave, Harvey dismissed him and went back to reading his own preparations for depositions, ready for tomorrow.

Donna slipped into his office by the time the sky grew dark and the streetlights bright and numerous.

"You were a bit harsh earlier. "

"He'll get over it." Harvey didn't want to say he wasn't all that fussed. Mike messed up and, well, at least these days he mentioned when he had, rather than digging himself into a bigger, more complicated mess than from when he started. Before he tried to keep more secrets, believing Harvey might cast him away if he made too many.

"Your honeymoon phase didn't last very long, did it?"

"We're working. At least one of us is." His eyes flicked up to meet Donna's. She was going to ask. He could feel it in his bones, see how she crossed her arms and the pinch in her expression. Let's get this over with then.

"I'm not in love with you, Harvey."

Okay, he hadn't expected that. He set his pen down. They really were going to have to have a Talk about this whole married business.

"Did I say you were?"

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed at you for keeping this to yourself. You understand that, right?"

"Is it really that big a deal? Nothing in the office has, or will, change." Harvey shrugged, picked up the pen to scratch out a few words and add a few of his own in notes in the margins. The facade didn't trick Donna for a second. She placed both her hands on the desk, leaned forward, irate.

"Did I wake up in an alternate reality? Since when do you notice men? Or is the law degree not the only lie Mike's carrying around? What's going on? Why are you both lying?"

He reclined in his seat more. She wanted reasons, she wanted dates and times and information Harvey's mind couldn't quite conjure up so smoothly after a long day's work. If he was being honest, he didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to keep it a secret between him and Mike and all the moments in-between unknown to the rest of the world. It didn't mean anything; no one needed to know about it.

"Seems you've already made your mind up."

Dodging the questions might be the only strategy to escape Donna's questioning. Once she made a joke about being a human polygraph, able to detect lies at a hundred paces. Right now, he didn't want to take up that bet.

"That's such a non-answer." She rounded the table. "Want me to believe this isn't some scheme? That you got married because you actually love Mike Ross?" Holding up a finger, she said, "Tell me one thing you like about him. One."

It was rare that Harvey felt flustered, or panicked or even furious to the point of wanting violence. This, the grilling whether it was because it was Donna or because it was on a topic Harvey hadn't thought people would truly badger him about, he started to feel it. The same back against the wall itch up his spine, the same trapped, suffocating emotion that he felt all those years ago. This chain felt too tight. Heartbeat too fast, and too loud.

"So you can go interrogate him later? I don't think so."

Donna took his silence to mean victory. Harvey took it to mean he needed out of here. He tried to leave. "One thing, and you can't," she accused him, and grabbed onto his arm by the crook of his elbow. Harvey froze.

"Donna, there's line and you're close to crossing it," he rose his voice at her and she did the same back.

"Of course I'm crossing it, you married him for a court case, are you kidding me? You're going to end up in prison if you keep going like this!"

"Is it the fact that it's Mike or that it's another guy that's got you so worried?"

The words were in the air before he had time to think them through, before he had time to cage up his wayward emotions and lock them down in the same forgotten place inside of him.

Why Marcus, why his words of: 'Why did you have to say anything? Nothing would've changed if you hadn't said anything,' spiraled in his head, Harvey wouldn't know. 'Why didn't you tell me?' and 'Why did you tell him?' It infuriated him. Again and again, Marcus and his parents and all the lies from before always poked themselves back up into somewhere else they weren't wanted.

Donna snarled, "Don't you dare try to turn this—"

He yelled, louder and louder, if only Marcus' and his father's advice in his head shut up.

"Why shouldn't I? You're acting just like everyone else in my life did. Like when I tried to tell my father or when I tried at twenty, and the only reason you didn't know was I never wanted anyone to know." A flicker of recognition in her eyes. He didn't stop. "And that's why you and everyone else are going to leave me and Mike Ross alone, and keep it to your damned selves."

"Harvey—"

"I don't want to hear it. Are we clear?"

She slumped onto a chair. "Harvey, I really am sorry. I thought—"

"I'll see you tomorrow." He didn't wait to hear what she said after that. Ray thankfully remained quiet the entire journey home.

Harvey sighed as he slipped off his shoes. Took a drink, scotch, and changed from the suit to more comfortable, looser clothing. Finally he could calm himself in his own space. His phone beeped. If anyone at the office needed him, he would ignore it, go to bed and deal with it in the morning.

The ID said MIKE. Harvey answered.

"Harvey, there's a folder under my door. Should I be concerned?"

"From our FBI friend? Probably letting you know he knows where you live as—" A stuttering intake of breath. "Mike?" The line died. Checking his phone, to make certain the call didn't drop for some random reason, Harvey tried to call back. No answer. Okay. Weird.

A text message popped up.

'Coming over.'

Harvey took a look at his kitchen, tidied away the evidence he drank. Today couldn't end quick enough.

Nothing quite prepared him for the noise, the stomps, the fury that flew into his home. Door hinges protested, door banging open, as Mike stormed in, shoved a folder into Harvey's chest without hesitation.

"This was left under my fucking door." Whatever worked Mike up in the ride over, he'd clearly cried hard enough to make his face red and puffy. "That bastard," Mike kept swearing, yelling, so much so it all was a bit much to come to terms with.

"What the—" Harvey doesn't really understand what he's looking at, what Mike's yelling about until the watermark from the Office of Chief Medical Examiner caught his eye. AUTOPSY OF ROSS, James. "Fuck." AUTOPSY OF ROSS, Nina.

"Tell me what he thinks you did," Mike said, back and shoving at him, breathing oddly, out of sync and rough. "Tell me right—" A hiccup of breath, the glassy, vacant stare as if he'd burst into tears again. Harvey knew that look.

"Hey, hey, don't—" Harvey dropped the folder, grabbed at Mike who went down, wobbling legs as the panic and the dizziness overtook him. Harvey placed him against the wall, and they settled into a tangle of limbs on the floor. Mike kept propped up by Harvey's hands on his shoulders, and Mike kept Harvey there with his hands grasping at his wrists.

"Mike," he tried for Mike's attention, the only hint he heard Harvey at all came in the flinch of Mike's hands.

"I'll tell you. Breathe."

Not listening, Harvey might as well not even be there. He forced him to look up, hand going to rest at his throat and jaw, to pull him from whatever horror his brain conjured up. Mike's heartbeat thudded painfully fast under Harvey's hands, like a terrified rabbit.

"Listen to me, I'm telling you," he said it more urgently.

Mike's eyes focused.

"A sting for the FBI ended up losing them five million and the guy they were after ended up killed." Mike's fingernails dug into his wrists, Harvey held on tighter. The hurt cast away for more anger, and Harvey heard the spite.

"What's—" Another moment as tears streamed down his face, but Mike refused to blink. "What's that got to do with you?" Finally some reaction.

"The guy's ex was a woman I was dating, either way, she up and disappeared like the money. Daniel thought that I told her about the raid, and she used it to set them all up so she could kill him and take the money."

Mike took his silence again, eyes downcast. Harvey listened for any ragged breathing, anything not quite right. His voice warbled as he spoke.

"What does he have on you?"

"Nothing. Hell, I didn't even know she'd skipped the country till I wrote a statement at the station. But Agent Everett, he's wrote a soap opera in his head and he thinks I'm the bad guy. That I leaked information."

In a flash, the rage returned, teeth and snarl back. Mike grabbed onto each side of Harvey's shirt, bunched material stretching under his hands. "If he ever comes to try you for any of this bullshit, Harvey. I'm your guy, you don't pick anyone else. I need to crush this piece of shit. He doesn't get to just—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're my guy. Now, stay put for a second. Don't try and stand just yet."

Slowly, reluctantly, Mike let go. Harvey returned armed with a bottle of cold water and tissues. All Mike had done was move his legs closer to his body, resting his chin on his knee. Mike's hands trembled, from the panic, the horror or the adrenaline, Harvey could only guess.

He took a seat on the floor next to him. "Anything else?"

A minute or so, Mike drank water, tried to dry his face, blew his nose, sat in a stupor that Harvey didn't dare disturb. Harvey didn't mind waiting.

In a small voice, completely opposite from before, Mike asked the question Harvey didn't want him to ask. "…Why?"

'It's my fault,' he wanted to say. What Harvey actually said was, "Probably sees you as a weak link, that you'll think I'm guilty and hand over whatever he wants." He rubbed at his arm, not sure how much worse it could get for an orphan to be delivered his parents autopsy reports. Suppose an orphan's photographic memory would make it worse. "If he's not entirely above it, might even ask you to plant evidence."

"Fuck him," Mike snarled, launching the bottle in his hand. It spilled open, cap pinging off in the opposite direction as it hit a wall. Flooring soaked as it rolled and water glugging out of it. "Sorry."

"It's water, Mike. No harm done."

The veering of despair to outrage and back again, Harvey could understand it. He could tell the anger only reared its head when Mike's thoughts wandered to the whys, the reasoning behind this bullshit attack on him. And Harvey couldn't guess the kind of pain having the details of a horrific accident that ruined Mike's life as a kid now stuck in his head.

They sat shoulder to shoulder. Harvey could only hope it served to ground him, even a little. Harvey stayed put regardless of how Mike switched from grumbling curses and threats to weeping openly. Honestly, he preferred the swearing and the anger.

Mike crying, desolate and inconsolable stuck him somewhere awkward between wanting to pull him into a crushing hug and tell him everything would be okay and outright leave to find Daniel Everett and turn his face into mush. But there was no fixing this. 

"I can't stop," he sniffled. "Sorry." Cried more. Harvey thought against being glib. Thank goodness he got the tissues. He ruffled his hair, and immediately Mike went to flatten down the mess he'd made.

"You've got ten minutes." Ruffled his hair some more, Mike curled up into himself, and then into Harvey. Until Mike hugged into him. Wrapped his arms around him much like his drunken night, arms around his neck and keeping himself impossibly close to his neck. Harvey gave a firm pat on the back. Mike flinched. 

He whispered, "it said there were pictures attached." An odd thing to hear and feel words against his skin, to know how Mike's mouth moved for that godawful sentence.

"Did you see them?"

Mike shook his head. "I couldn't... I didn't want to see them like that."

Harvey hadn't hugged anyone this long; and he's counting the ones he's fucked. It should feel awkward, it should be finished now. Mike should be peeling himself away and from the floor to cry somewhere else. And yet, the time ticked on.

The tears slowed, stopped, started, continued, slowed, over and over. 

Once Mike's hands stopped shaking, Harvey decided this was long enough. "Feel like your legs are going to hold you this time?"

Harvey probably didn't need to in any capacity help Mike to stand on his own two feet. But he had to, he had to make sure the grip on his forearm was strong and steady. Mike nodded as Harvey took a step away, checking over him to make sure no other signs of fainting reappeared. 

"You need anything?"

His reply: a deep ugly scowl at the abandoned folder on the floor.

"I never want to see it again."

"You won't. Promise."

He'd put it into the safe, make sure not even Mike could break into it. And yet Mike looked like he'd cry again and Harvey didn't know what he said wrong.

"You can't promise that; I read it."

His heart lurched, and to avoid the urge to embrace him one too many times, he pat him on the shoulder in passing.

"You might as well crash here tonight. Go binge some bad television, I'll see you in the morning."

They both knew Mike wouldn't be sleeping, but trying to clean his brain of whatever downward spiral, of whatever details really dug into his mind and buried themselves in deep. So long as Mike stayed here, Harvey could check-in, could stop a bad idea. For now, he left him to grieve in peace.

Harvey awoke to sobbing. He followed the noise. Instead of seeing the lanky body curled up on a too small sofa, or somewhere in the kitchen comfort eating, Harvey headed to a room his cleaner saw more than him. Guest room.

Mike curled up in on himself as he sat on the bed, hands over his face, downcast and broken.

"You can't cry all night." He leaned against the doorway again.

He sniffed. His voice hoarse, "It won't get out my head, Harvey. It's there. I try and think about anything else and they're just there as soon as I close my eyes. My mom bled out." He dug the palm of his hands into his eyes.

Look, Harvey couldn't promise to remove the details or distract Mike enough that his brain wouldn't interrupt. There was one thing in this damned house that could give him a few hours rest, an oblivion of feeling.

"Come on. Up."

Mike followed him to the kitchen. Poured a glass of scotch and offered it to Mike.

He hesitated, "Harvey. I don't—"

"Drink."

Whether Mike saw his own pitiful reflection in the whisky or not, he took it in both is hands. The first drink Mike sipped at, and Harvey commanded him to hurry up. So he did. The second he swallowed over, and the third he took without complaint.

And then Harvey steered him back to the guest bed. "Sleep," he said, pushing him. Mike didn't even resist.

Harvey read the rest of the file while he waited for Mike to sleep in a drunken haze. Cranium hemorrhaging, mentions of crushed vertebrae turned Harvey's stomach. What the hell had Everett been thinking sending this to Mike? Nina's officially died of exsanguination, massive blood loss. The pictures were there, grotesque in how they were meant to hurt Mike. Zoomed in on bloodied bodies and smashed up faces. He hid the folder away in a safe. Mike didn't need that as a morning greeting.

He slipped into bed, stayed staring at the ceiling and thinking. Planning. How to ruin, how to rid them of Daniel Everett forever. Before, whenever Harvey saw him in passing, Daniel scowled but they remained civil.

Well, civility died tonight.