#suits100

[thegodess666]

ATX Festival Panel: "Suits" Script Reading (2017)

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etLF49Ete-0

[iamnotgivingthemyou]

‘Suits’ Star Patrick J. Adams Directs The Landmark 100th Episode — Exclusive Photos

[novemberhush]

Unfinished Symphony

Suits100 prompt #71 - Harvey finds a letter from his father.

(Main) Pairing / Character - Mike Ross/Harvey Specter

Gifset by @loyalty2waystreet

Writing by @novemberhush

Word count - 3,654

Thanks to the amazingly talented, wonderfully supportive and endlessly caring @loyalty2waystreet for surprising me with this gorgeous gifset at a time when my motivation was waning. I absolutely love it! It really inspired me to keep going and I’m sure you will all agree with me when I say how beautiful it is.

Thanks also to Aqua and Erin for undertaking to organise the Suits100 event in the first place, and to whoever originally submitted this particular prompt. I hope what I’ve done with it doesn’t disappoint you too much!

He had first found the letter when he’d went to clear out his father’s place in the weeks after his death. It was a rented apartment, the family home having been sold off following the divorce and the proceeds divided between Gordon and Lily. Harvey could easily have kept the place on, but it had never meant anything more to Gordon than a place to hang his hat and rest his head. It had never been ‘home’ to either him or his eldest son and Harvey therefore held no attachment to it. All he cared about were the parts of his father it housed.

The record collection that had inspired Harvey’s own and which was even more extensive. His saxophone and other varied instruments. All the memorabilia commemorating a life soaked in music. Photos, ticket stubs, posters. The hat his father swore had been given to him by Thelonius Monk himself. These were the things Harvey cared about. Not the four walls that surrounded them.

Gordon’s will had been straightforward enough. All his money was split evenly between Harvey and Marcus, except for a few small bequests here and there to a handful of old friends and charities close to his heart. As for everything else, well, there were some items of sentimental value left to Marcus. Their grandfather’s watch, for example. (Harvey didn’t mind in the slightest. It wasn’t to his taste and he’d always hated the old buzzard anyway.)

There were a few other things, but the bulk of it, mostly musical in nature, went to Harvey. Marcus raised no objections, never having shared his father and brother’s love of music.

And so Harvey had found himself spending a weekend packing up his late father’s belongings, all his worldly goods, the mementos of a life, tucked away safely in boxes to be transported to Harvey’s condo. Donna had offered to help, Marcus and Jessica too, but this was something Harvey had felt he needed to do alone. Which meant there was no one there to witness him stumbling across the envelope in the desk drawer, addressed to himself in his father’s flowing handwriting. No one to hear the way his breath caught in his throat or see how his hand shook. To glimpse the tears he blinked back.

He sat there for a full half hour, just staring at it as if he could divine its contents without actually opening it, but eventually he’d carefully peeled it open and extracted the letter inside. The letter that began:-

To my dear son, Harvey,

Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…

And that was as far as he got before the tears refused to be blinked back any longer and the dam broke. The letter was put back in its envelope, never read beyond the first paragraph, once he was all cried out. Whatever his father wanted to tell him, Harvey wasn’t ready to hear. He wasn’t ready to hear what he felt sure was his father’s final goodbye to him.

Life went on. Harvey’s career flourished even as his personal life became one long string of meaningless encounters with anonymous strangers and the occasional hook-up with Scottie whenever she was in town. The firm was his unit, Jessica his general and Donna his trusted second-in-command. Louis was Forrest Gump. With less gumption. Harvey didn’t see what more he could need.

And then one day another anonymous stranger walked into a hotel suite, dropped a briefcase full of weed at his feet and soon Harvey didn’t know how he’d survived this long without him.

Now, six years later, that blue-eyed stranger was no longer a stranger, but Harvey’s loyal lieutenant and junior partner in the firm. Mike Ross, ex-con, attorney at law and all-round bleeding heart. He’d also just taken it upon himself to pack up Harvey’s old office and transfer everything into his new one, recently vacated by Jessica, apparently. Or at least that was the only explanation Harvey could come up with for why he came to be standing in what he could have sworn was still his office, looking around and wondering just what in the hell had happened to it and all his things.

“Mike, what the fuc-”

“Relax, Harvey, your stuff is fine. I just moved it all into your new office, seeing as you were never gonna get around to it, so I could take possession of mine.”

“If there’s so much as one scratch on any of my records, rookie…”

“I know, I know, you’ll feed me to the fishes, yadda yadda yadda,” Mike said, rolling his eyes with a smirk and leaving Harvey nostalgic for the good old days when he could intimidate the kid with a single look.

Before he could try out any more threats, though, Mike reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced an envelope.

“By the way, I found this when I was packing up your records. It fell out of the sleeve of one of them. Thought it might be important.”

He held the envelope out for Harvey to inspect, but he didn’t need to look to know what it was. His father’s letter. Hidden away inside one of his favourite records, never forgotten, but pushed to the back of Harvey’s mind along with all the other things he didn’t want to deal with. Like his feelings for the man sitting in front of him. The engaged to someone else man sitting in front of him, Harvey reminded himself. But one emotional crisis at a time, right?

“It is important,” Harvey croaked, voice suddenly thick. When he didn’t elaborate further Mike cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say Go on, I’m listening.

With a sigh, Harvey gingerly took the letter, staring down once again at the familiar handwriting.

“It’s a letter my father left for me,” he murmured. “I found it among his things after he died.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus. That must’ve … Christ, I mean, I bawled my eyes out when Father Walker gave me one of my old childhood books that my parents had written a message in for me, but this … he left you this, knowing he’d be gone when you read it. That must’ve been pretty intense, finding it like that.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed.

“Yeah.”

Silence fell between them then, but Harvey knew Mike well enough to know that mind of his was far from silent.

“Spit it out, Mike. I know you’re dying to know. It’s okay, you can ask.”

Mike hesitated for a second, an aborted denial hovering on his lips, before giving in to his innate curiosity.

“What’s it say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get beyond the first paragraph,” Harvey replied, a wry smile on his own lips.

“What?? Why not? Come on, it can’t have been that bad. Loving parents - and by all accounts that’s what your dad was - don’t leave their kids letters telling them how disappointed they were in them or how they never wanted them to begin with. They tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. Why wouldn’t you want to read that?”

Harvey shrugged. “I didn’t always give him reason to be proud of me.”

“Bullshit!” The vehemence in Mike’s voice startled Harvey, causing him to jerk his head up and stare at Mike as intently as he’d been staring at the envelope.

“You can’t seriously think your dad left you a list of all your faults and misdemeanours, Harvey, come on.”

“No, I know, you’re right, it’s stupid. I guess I … I …”

“You weren’t ready to say goodbye.”

As usual Mike had cut straight to the heart of him in a way only he could.

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I know it’s a letter, but this feels like the last conversation I’ll ever have with him.”

“Maybe. But I’d lay odds on it being one you’ll feel better for having.”

“You think so?”

“I do. And you wanna know something else? I’m jealous of you right now.”

Harvey’s forehead creased in confusion. “Jealous? Why the hell would you be jealous?”

“Because I’d give almost anything for one more conversation with my mom or my dad or Grammy. This is a gift, Harvey. Open it.”

Nodding, Harvey did just that, but stopped as Mike got up and began to walk away.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay? Don’t you want to know what it says?”

“Yeah, and you can tell me when you’re ready. If you want to, that is. But this is a conversation between you and your father and it should be a private one. I’ll be at McGinty’s nursing a whiskey. There’ll be a glass waiting for you if you want to talk afterwards. Or not. We can just sit and drink. But right now it’s father/son time and I don’t want to intrude on that.” He strolled towards the door, turning before he left to add with a smirk, “Besides, I’m pretty sure your pride can’t handle me seeing you cry like Louis after sex.”

Harvey returned the smirk with one of us own. “And how do you know Louis cries after sex, rookie?”

“Please. It’s Louis. Of course he cries after sex. And before. And durin-”

“Okay, okay,” Harvey interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Just have the scotch ready, wiseass.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Mike retorted, standing to attention and saluting.

Harvey huffed a laugh before a thought struck him. “Hey, not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s late enough as it is. Won’t Rachel mind you dragging me to some faux Irish bar to sit around drinking cheap scotch all night while the patrons get misty-eyed and sing songs about the homeland while you try to get me to spill my guts?”

Mike stilled, the smile faltering on his face before falling away completely.

“No, Rachel won’t mind. She won’t even know. She’s staying at her parents’ place for a while. We, ah … we’ve decided to take some time out from our relationship.”

“What?? Since when?”

“Since I suggested we postpone the wedding. Again.”

“Mike, I … I don’t know what to say.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true. His heart had a few suggestions. Like, Please tell me it’s over for good. And, Tell me you don’t love her. Or, Am I the reason you keep postponing the wedding? Please say yes. But something stopped him from saying any of that. Harvey told himself it was his honour, because wishing the end of someone’s relationship was almost as bad as physically interfering in it, but he suspected at least part of it was cowardice. He didn’t want to hurt Rachel, true, but he didn’t want to risk Mike’s rejection either.

“You don’t have to say anything, Harvey. It’s on me. I’m the one who can’t commit to her.”

“Why not?” Harvey asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. His heart applauded even as the rest of him quivered with fear. The question hung heavy in the air between them and Harvey fell back on his favourite fail-safe to defuse the tension - humour.

“What? You get a better offer or something?”

Mike didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there and looked at Harvey, long and hard, a searching, scrutinising look on his face that left Harvey feeling stripped bare.

“Not yet,” he finally replied, voice low and hoarse. And with that he was gone, leaving Harvey with more questions than answers. He suddenly wished he had that drink in his hand already. That thought reminded him that he already had something in his hand. His father’s letter. Foregoing the scotch for now, he sank into the nearest chair, took a deep breath, and began reading.

To my dear son, Harvey,

Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…

I’m sorry to do this to you, son. I should have told you all these things face to face, but somehow I never got around to it, and now the doc is telling me my old ticker ain’t doing too good and it feels like there’s so much to say that I don’t know where to begin.

First things first, I suppose, so let’s get the obvious out of the way. At least, I hope it’s obvious. I love you, Harvey. And I’m proud of you. I’m so, so proud of you. I think you know that. Jesus, I hope you know that. I hope I told you that enough when I was alive. I hoped it showed in everything I did and said when we were together. I think you know. I think you know.

Secondly, it wasn’t your fault, you know. You know what I’m talking about. Your mother’s infidelity. I know that as far as the rest of the world is concerned you appear to lay all the blame for the break-up of our marriage at your mother’s door, but you don’t fool me. I see the little boy, hiding behind his anger, using it as a shield to deflect attention away from the fact that he wonders if it was his fault, wonders if he did something to drive her to it. You didn’t. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. There was nothing you did to cause it and nothing you could have done to prevent it. You were a child when it started. Hell, for all I know it started before you were even born. But I do know this - it was not your fault. Okay? You didn’t make her cheat. Get that through that goddamn head of yours.

And stop beating yourself up about being the one to tell me about it, too. Truth is, I think I always knew, deep down. I just didn’t want to admit it. I knew your mother was unhappy and I turned away and pretended not to see. Because I was afraid of losing her. I loved her, and I wanted her to be happy, and she wasn’t. And that made me feel like a failure. But instead of letting her go, I clung on. I told myself it would be okay. If we could only make it to Thanksgiving we’d be okay. Or to Christmas. Or your birthday. Or our next anniversary. But I was kidding myself. When you love someone, and they don’t love you back, it’s never  okay. It’s soul destroying. But keeping someone tied to you when you know they’d rather be free, that’s killing the person you love, slowly but surely. A little part of your mother died with every passing year and I did nothing to stop it. I did nothing to help her.

I pretended that all she needed was a little space from time to time. So I agreed to tour with anyone who asked me. I told myself that she missed me as much as I missed her when I was on the road. But her voice on the other end of the line was always cold when I called. Except when we talked about you and Marcus. She always loved you two. Her beautiful boys, she called you. You remember that? Her beautiful boys. But you were mine, too. My beautiful, proud, stubborn, hard-headed boys.

But it’s that pride and stubbornness and hard-headedness that has me worried now. (Not about Marcus. I know he’ll be all right. He has Katie and your mom and if anything good came from him being sick before it was that it taught him it’s okay to reach out to people when you need them. You, though, I’m afraid the only thing you’ll reach for is the scotch.)

You see, I’ve been talking to your mother. Her and Bobby both. I should have told you that. I should have told you it was all right to forgive her. To love her. But I was scared. Scared you’d think me weak for forgiving her. Scared I’d lose your respect. But it wasn’t fair to either of you. Maybe nothing I said would have made a difference, but I could have tried. So much time you’ve lost. Time you could have spent repairing your relationship. And now I’m gone and you’re going to need someone, Harvey. And if not your mother, who?

I know you won’t lean on Marcus. You take your role of big brother far too seriously to allow you to do that. There’s Jessica and Donna, and even Louis, of course. But you won’t open up to them. You won’t let them see you weak, even though they’d never judge you for it. And you know I like Scottie, but you need someone who does more than just challenge you, Harvey. You need someone you can let yourself be weak around. Someone you don’t have to appear strong to all the time. But to do that you’d need to let someone in, and that doesn’t come easy to you, kid. I guess you can blame your mother and me for that. You heard me talk about our great love so many times, and you saw the truth of that love, how it only went one way, and now you doubt it could ever be any other way. But it can, Harvey. It can. You just have to be open to it.

And here’s the thing. If I had it to do all over again, I would. If I could go back in time to that first night we met, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would still ask her if I could take her home. I wouldn’t walk away. I wouldn’t know how to. Because I don’t regret your mother, I could never regret her. And not just because she gave me you boys (although, of course, I’d never give you up for the world). I’m not good with words, but I’ll try to explain.

Before Lily most people were just … white noise. There’d been other women before her, but they were nothing more than background music. Easy listening. Safe, comfortable, predictable. But Lily, oh, she was a blues song and a country ballad. Soul and jazz and gospel. She was rock and roll and she was Beethoven’s Fifth. She was ‘Ode to Joy’ sung by choirs of angels. My lullaby. My national anthem. My requiem. She was it all. She still is.

Some people are their own magnus opus. A great work in and of themselves. I think your mother is one of those people. But most of us are works in progress. Unfinished symphonies just waiting for the right one to come along and complete them. Your mother completed me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t return the favour. She didn’t need me to.

You pretend you’re one of the ones who truly don’t need anyone else to come along and help them compose their life’s song, Harvey, and maybe you even believe it. But I know better. I know you. You’re the sweetest tune I ever produced, kid, but you’re an unfinished symphony. And somewhere out there there’s someone with all the right notes. You just gotta find them, and when you do - let them in.

Maybe it’ll be love at first sight, like me with your mother. Maybe it’ll take a little longer. But you’ll know it’s them when you find yourself breaking every rule you ever made for yourself. I swore I’d never fall for a groupie, but five minutes with your mother and I was already planning the proposal.

I would have went anywhere with her, put her above everyone I’d ever known, given up my life for her. Hell, I’d have even given up music for her if she’d asked me to. When you find someone you’d give it all up for, you’ll know. And you’ll understand why I never stopped loving your mother. It was beyond my power to do so. But even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t. Because your mother was the most beautiful song I ever heard and no matter how it ended I wouldn’t have missed a single note for anything.

You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life, son. Don’t start now. Don’t be afraid of loving someone. Life’s too short, take it from me.

I love you, Harvey. Never doubt it.

All my love,

Dad

Harvey let the letter drop to the desk in front of him as the silent tears that had been threatening to fall all through his reading of it finally found release. For maybe the first time in his life he understood what people meant when they said crying could be cathartic.

When he had pulled himself together enough to talk he didn’t even hesitate as he reached for his phone and hit Mike’s number. His dad was right. He was Harvey goddamn Specter and he’d never been afraid of anything in his life. He wasn’t going to start now.

“Mike? Hey, listen - how soon can you get to my place? The scotch is better there and I have an offer I’d like to run by you…”

[loyalty2waystreet]

Guilty (Of Love in the First Degree)

Suits100 prompt #98 ~ Written by Loyalty2WayStreet

- Donna goes all lawyer on Mike or Harvey and puts her case forward, proving that they love each other.

Rated M.

Harvey doesn’t do sentimental.  He enjoys trophies, yes.  Objects that show off who he knows or what he’s achieved.  He doesn’t exactly parade around advertising that he’s wealthy, that would be crass, but you can tell by looking at him that he indulges in the finer things in life. Birthday and Christmas cards, love letters from Scottie when they were at Harvard, old tickets to Yankees’ games, it’s all clutter to Harvey.  He likes his life organised and free of all the crap. Harvey also preaches that caring only makes you weak and that he himself is all business.  He knows it’s not entirely true.  He does care about his family, about Jessica, Donna and Louis.  He cared about Mike too; he liked the kid, he felt like Mike just got him.  Well, that was until he went and betrayed him and sided with Jessica. Now all he felt was pissed at him. Admittedly, Mike had tried everything short of grovelling on his knees to get back into Harvey’s good books, even bribing the likes of Benjamin and Jessica.  But what Mike had done cut him deep, and although he didn’t understand why he wanted to punish him, he knew that he did, and Harvey could be colder than the Arctic Circle when he wanted to be.

Read more on AO3 here.

If Mike were an actual puppy his ears would have been dragging along the corridors of Pearson Darby for the last few days.  Even Donna, despite being a little biased, could see both sides of the story.  Yes, Mike had made the wrong call, but he made it without all the information.  Information that Harvey hadn’t supplied.  So, while she was firmly Team Harvey on this one, she did feel sorry for the puppy who looked more kicked every time she laid eyes on him.

It finally seemed as though Mike had accepted the rift between them, and moved on.  Maybe he gave up a little too quickly in Harvey’s opinion, but that thought was between him and Miles Davis.  He kicks his feet up on the desk, quite satisfied that no-one has barged into his office uninvited for at least 24 hours.  Louis is loitering outside with Donna, whispering like they were back in school.  Harvey flicks the switch on his intercom and hears Donna’s accusing voice, ripping Louis a new one for putting the moves on Mike behind his back, and Louis denying it before he flicks the switch off again.  Donna’s got this covered.

Only a minute or so later he realises that Donna’s failed to contain the situation because Louis is in his office, smelling of sausage and doing his usual agitated jig before he gets the courage to ask for something, usually sliding more toward the insane end of the scale.  Harvey throws Donna the ‘What the hell do I pay you for?’ look. “I want to ask Mike to be my associate?”  Louis blurts.

Harvey smirks, not the evil smirk, the ‘I’m superior’ one, and he watches Louis press his lips together to keep himself from saying something that could derail his carefully assembled proposal. “You can ask him, Louis, but I doubt Mike’s into slavery.” “I’m not some kind of animal, Harvey!”  Louis bursts before clamping his lips together again, looking peeved at having taken the bait.  Harvey’s eyebrows raise in amusement, shit-eating grin taunting Louis.  What can he say?  It makes his day riling Louis up, but today he has work to get done.

“Louis, if Mike even wants to be your associate, which I doubt, you’re welcome to him.” “So… I have your permission?  No backsies, deal’s a deal?” “Louis, you have my blessing.”  Then why all of a sudden is his mouth so goddamn dry? “Yes!”  Louis hisses, pumping his fist.  Of course, Louis would celebrate a victory that was a sure thing by being a schmuck.  He’s strutting toward the door when he does an elaborate spin, pulling a neatly folded letter from his pocket.

“Oh, and seeing as though I’m saving Mike from you, I won’t be needing this,” Louis smarms, placing Mike’s resignation letter in front of Harvey with a flourish.

“Maybe this will remind you of what an ass you can be,” he declares petulantly, then shuffles out of the office leaving Harvey staring at Mike’s signature at the bottom of a resignation letter he didn’t even know existed, until now. It hit him then.  Hard.  Mike was prepared to quit over this.

They are done.  All the good times he’d had playing Batman to Mike’s Robin, the way he only felt comfortable enough around Mike to open up about his family, how much he admired and loved the challenge of Mike’s mind, and being the reason that Mike laughed.  Gone.

Had he overreacted?  Was he being a prick about it? His morose thoughts were interrupted by Donna quietly entering the room and settling opposite him, her face a picture of understanding.  Harvey’s poker face might be legendary, and to anyone else he might be able to hide the turmoil he’s feeling, but Donna’s no idiot. “You don’t have to let him go; you’re allowed to change your mind, Harvey.” Harvey straightened his shoulders and gave her a nod.  "Thank you, Donna, but I don’t want to talk about it.“  Usually, that was all it took, a clear dismissal in hopes that she’d understand that he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, or that he was happy to pretend he didn’t have any. "Well, I do!”  She said crossing her arms over her chest and fixing him with a stare.  “I know you care about him much more than you let on, and quite frankly I’m sick of you moping about these past few days.” Harvey saw red, he doesn’t mope.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath until the anger was replaced with a nonchalant directness.

“Donna, that’s enough.  I have work to do.” “Fine,” she retorted, standing up briskly.  “You can’t admit you care.  That’s okay because I have proof!” “You don’t have shit!”  Or does she?  His brain supplies.  No, he kept his caring to a minimum.  Old habits die hard and all. “So, if I can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you care about him, you’ll make up with him?”  She’s leaning over his desk now, eyebrows raised in a challenge and an unnerving glint in her eyes. “Absolutely.”  He beams a bright, ‘I’m not scared of you, sweetheart’ smile at her, “Because you, have diddly squat!” “Deal.”  They shook hands, smirking at each other.

“I’ll gather my evidence and present it along with your morning coffee, tomorrow,” she proposed, turning on her heels. “I’m busy.” “No, you’re not.  Your 9 am asked to see Mike specifically, not you.  So, I rescheduled them to tonight over dinner.”  She smiled like an assassin. Harvey grimaced.  But only because he was out of excuses, not because the client Mike was seeing was stunning, and had been flirty and handsy with him every time they’d had meetings in the past. “Fine,” he snapped.  “Now out, I have work to do.”

He’s sitting in the conference room still ruminating on what Ava had just said to him about her number two, Nick.

“But he did it for his own survival.”

“He still did it,”  Harvey had argued.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss him.

He looks up just as Mike walks past and he knows, he can’t keep this up much longer.  Mike might have done the wrong thing, but Ava’s right, he did it for his own survival.  

His thoughts of Mike dissipate at the sight of Donna exiting the elevator with an evidence box, and it’s now about three hours after she left the office.  He’s under no misconceptions that when he goes home tonight, there will be something delicious cooking in his oven that she’s made either before or after the snooping happened.  If there were something there to be found, she’d sniff it out.  She’s resourceful like that, something Harvey has always admired about her.

Most people would be uncomfortable with their secretary going through their home, but then again, most people didn’t consider their secretary to be their closest family.  Donna is his best friend, she knows him better than anyone else, even Jessica, and he trusts her judgement even when she has landed them in hot water.

They tried the ‘more than friends’ route once.  It was an unmitigated disaster that was never spoken of ever again, and since that day Donna was 100% behind Harvey being with anyone but her, and preferably with someone who had a dick.  Yep, the ‘more than friends’ outing had made that preference abundantly clear.

He speeds up his steps, catching up and falling into stride with her.

“What’s in the box?”  He asked attentively, giving her a killer smile.

“Nah ah,” she said, adjusting her grip on the box, “you’ll just have to wait and see, pretty boy.”

She gave him a cheeky look as she placed the box on her desk.  Harvey rolled his eyes.

“Fine, what’s in my oven then?”

“Shepherd’s Pie, your favourite.  Now scoot, you need be across town in 30 minutes.”

She turned his shoulders toward the elevator like he was a kid and gave him a poke.

Harvey’s stomach rumbled.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I have a feeling you’re going to want to strangle me tomorrow,” she stated.

“Yeah?  Wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?”

Harvey sleeps terribly for the fourth night in a row.  He’d thought he could sweep his emotions under the rug, ignore the pounding of his heart when Mike walked by his office, and just get on with it.  He thought they would be back on track by now, but after seeing Mike’s resignation letter, he felt uneasy.

He’s at work by six.  He may as well work if he can’t sleep.  At 7.30am, Donna strolls into his office with a puzzled-looking Mike in tow.  She places the evidence box and tray of coffees on his desk and points Mike to the couch. “Sit,” she directs, then turns on Harvey, “you too.” “Donna-” “No, I’m presenting this evidence to both of you, so unless you want Mike sitting in your lap?”

Harvey makes a face, whether it’s to cover up that he’d love Mike in his lap, or that he despises being told what to do, is debatable.  He stays where he is, out of protest.

“Harvey,” Donna chides, moving her eyes from him to the direction of the couch and back again.

It was like watching a Western movie, where two gunslingers had a stare down before one shot the other.  Mike sat and watched in silence, knowing full well that Harvey might be the best closer in New York, but Donna feared no man, least of all her best friend.

“You agreed to this,” she reminds him, tapping her finger against the Dictaphone. “And I’d let you back out because I love your ass, but aren’t you just the least bit curious?” She’s baiting him, and they all know it.

“Curious about what?” Mike asked, still completely lost.  Eyes flicking from Donna to Harvey.

“Fine!”  Harvey conceded grumpily, crossing the room and thunking ungracefully down on the couch next to Mike.

“Harvey, what’s this abo-“

“ORDER!” Donna belts out, cutting Mike off and making him straighten in surprise.  Now that she has their attention she clears her throat and begins the proceedings.

“We are gathered here today… no, wait,” she chuckles, delighted at the death rays Harvey is shooting her, “oops, wrong officiary.”  She smirks at Harvey, and he gives her an over-exaggerated eye roll for her troubles.  Mike looks like one of those show clowns that swallow balls, head swinging back and forth between them, with his mouth open, wondering what the hell is happening.

Mike only catches up when Donna poses her first question.

“Harvey, on the charge of caring about one Mike Ross, how do you plead?”

“Not Guilty,” Harvey answers with a bored tone.

“That’s a bit harsh,” Mike mumbles to himself.  He can see that Harvey doesn’t bother hiding the slightly guilty look at having answered so quickly.

“Burn,” Donna snorts, looking back and forth between them before snapping back into character.

“Please take the stand,” she says, motioning to the chair at the end of the couch, “and state your full name for the record.”

Harvey crossed his arms over his chest, much like an insolent child.  “Please, spare us the dramatics.”

“Objection!  How dare you sir, I am a lady of the theatre,” she gasps, sounding faux affronted, while gracefully swanning her arms around in an over the top manner.

“Now before I find you in contempt, please sit as instructed, raise your right hand and pretend you have a bible.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey mutters under his breath, sitting in the seat and raising his hand as demanded by Her Highness.  It’s always amused Mike how much Harvey listens to and lets Donna get away with; he’s almost jealous of how close they are.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Sure,” Harvey shrugged, giving the answer no weight at all.

“It’s ‘I do’ Harvey,” Mike interjects gleefully, “Do you have a problem with those two little words?”

Harvey fixes him with a look that is supposed to be withering, but Mike just finds it hot, as he voices the words, ‘I do’, staring right into Mike’s soul.  And the bastard doesn’t even look mad anymore; he appears sincere.

The sound of Mike swallowing could be heard from the bullpen.

“I move to strike the heart eyes from the record; the defendant is clearly trying to coerce my witness,” Donna interrupts, breaking them out of a staring competition bordering on eye sex, that neither of them had been expecting.

“Coerce him into what exactly, prosecutor?”  Harvey asks.

Without skipping a beat, Donna grabs her air guitar as she sings, “Bow chicka wow wow,” grinning from ear to ear as the tip of both Harvey and Mike’s ears turn pink.  Harvey, of course, recovers first.

“Are you about done?  How about the prosecutor makes her case before Paramount pictures get their shit together, and make a ‘Top Gun’ sequel?”

“That’d be awesome,” Mike whispers, and Donna play shoots him death rays.

Ignoring them both, Donna walks over to the record collection and selects one from a middle shelf.

“Directing your attention to People’s Exhibit A in evidence, can you tell the Court what Exhibit A is?”  She points her finger at the record dramatically.

“My Arctic Monkeys record?”  

“Does my witness also recognise Exhibit A?”  she asks Mike, handing it to him for inspection.

Mike honestly hasn’t seen it since he gave it to Harvey but he notices now how worn and well used it is, and he feels a familiar warmth spread through his chest.  “Sure, I gave it to Harvey after my first year here.”

Donna smiles warmly at Mike, and Mike sees now why he’s here.  Donna is showing him that all isn’t lost, that he needs to make Harvey understand how sorry he is because Harvey does care.

“Harvey, would you say this is your type of music?”

“No.”

Mike rolls his eyes at him and stage whispers ‘old man.’

“But you like this particular record, right?” Donna continues.

“I disagree, I tolerate it,” Harvey replies.  Although, yeah.  He has grown to like it.

“If you only tolerate it, as you say, then why do I have these?”  Donna whips out her cell and presses play.  It’s Harvey singing ‘Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new’, recorded through the intercom.

It’s not that he’s a bad singer, in fact, he held the tune nicely.  It’s that she had to record THAT line, the line that deeply resonated with him that first time he’d listened to it.  Plus, once was bad enough, but the evil genius had caught him singing it three times, and the record wasn’t even playing in the background the last time.

Mike’s grin is wider than the Atlantic, and he looks happier than Louis does after a prunie.

“Objection, irrelevant.”  That’s all Harvey can come up with at this point because another line of that song, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you.  I don’t know if you feel the same as I do, but we could be together, if you wanted to,’ is invading his thoughts.  And now he’s staring at Mike’s lips.

“Irrelevant?  You, singing a song from an album that Mike gave you, and specifically that line, over and over until even I was sick of it, is irrelevant?  How so?”

Donna learned from the best, press until it hurts.

“It just is,” Harvey replies grumpily, emphatically mouthing ‘enough.’  She sees it and makes a heart with her fingers and points back at him.

“Take notes, Mike,” Donna says sweetly, “‘It just is,’ is Harvey’s go to defence when he knows his goose is cooked.”

Harvey scowls and draws a heart in the air with his middle finger, then flips her the bird.  Mike covers his face, containing a laugh.

“Moving on,” Donna dictates, “Directing your attention to People’s Exhibit B in evidence, can you tell the Court what Exhibit B is?”  she asks, motioning for a confused Harvey to stand up.  She digs her hand into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

“Objection, the prosecutor is feeling me up,” Harvey teases, smirking at Mike.

“Pfft. Overruled,” Donna laughs. “Said prosecutor, would have the good sense to knead your butt cheeks if she were going to grope you!  Now please resume your seat and answer the goddamned question.”

Bossy Boots,  Harvey thinks as he straightens his jacket and takes his seat.

“This is your wallet, correct?”

“No, that’s my decoy wallet in case I get robbed,” Harvey replies sarcastically.

Donna groans, and recites in a robot-like manner, “The jury will disregard the heavy sarcasm, let the record reflect that this is, in fact, your wallet.”

“What record?” Mike asks, looking around the room for a hidden camera like he’s on a reality television show.

Donna points innocently to the Dictaphone on the coffee table between them.

“You’re recording this?”  Harvey asks.  And wow, his voice was about three octaves higher than usual.

“Duh, I’ll probably use it at your wed-”

“Please proceed,” Harvey interjects, deliberately cutting her off, “I don’t have all day for this!”

“Geesh, okay.  Now, as the prosecutor was saying before the defendant got his panties in a bunch, is it fair to say that you are aware of the contents of your wallet?”

“Yes,” Harvey confirms, throwing his hand into the air in frustration.

“Hmmm,” she hums, opening the wallet, “Aww, this is a cute photo of you two,” she says sweetly, showing Mike the printed-out selfie of him and Harvey on Mike’s couch, the night they’d gotten stoned.  Heat blossoms on both Mike and Harvey’s cheeks, because they do look very cosy in the picture, and in all honesty, Mike had forgotten it existed.  He wants a copy now though.

“Is there a question here, counsellor?”

“Nope,” Donna exclaims, beaming, “it’s just a sweet photo of you two, which happens to be in your wallet, that you carry around with you everywhere.”

“Oh, wait!”  Donna adds like she’s just remembered something but quite clearly had this planned from the get go.  She grabs the wallet back off Mike and gives Harvey a wink.

“Mike, do you recognise this?”  She holds the object up to Mike, just out of Harvey’s view, so he has to crane his neck to try to see.

Mike bursts out laughing and takes it from Donna.  He looks over at Harvey, holding up the Pearson Darby business card bearing his name.  Only this card has ‘associate’ crossed out and ‘failed drug dealer’ with a winky face, written in Mike’s chicken-scratch handwriting instead.  “Why on earth do you still have this?”  Mike asks.

Harvey flushes a deep shade of red, “I didn’t know it was in there,” he mumbles, not looking at Mike.

“Bullshit,” Donna fake coughs.  “You know, I know you’re not sentimental, and yet when it comes to Mike…”

“Calm your farm, Donna; you’ve proved that once, and it would have been rude to throw the record away,” Harvey rebuts, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.  He wasn’t going to give her an ounce of satisfaction.

Donna sits next to his feet and leans into his space.  “Would you like some more examples?”

“NO!”

“I would. What else do you have, Donna?”  Mike perks up from beside them.

Donna grins at him and shakes her head.  “Oh, Mike, you are going to love Exhibit C.”

Harvey groans, he’s sure she’s not joking, and Mike is loving this, which okay, yeah, it is nice to see the kid smiling and laughing again but he’d prefer it not to be at his expense.

Donna takes pity on him and calls for a recess so they can drink their morning coffees, then subtly slips off to use the ladies’ room.

The office is still relatively quiet, Harvey guesses it’s still shy of eight and most of the partners don’t start filtering in until half past.  At least he hopes this dog and pony show will be over by then.  He looks up from the coffee in his hand to find Mike considering him carefully.  Harvey raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“You know this would be a lot easier on you if you’d just get over yourself, and admit that you care about me.”

“Mike,” Harvey murmurs, his voice quiet and low, “caring only mak-”

“I know, I know, caring only makes you weak, right?  That’s complete bullshit, Harvey.  Why did you still have that business card, huh?”

He wants to tell him, he really does.  “Mike, I-”

“No, Harvey, don’t you dare give me some bullshit line, tell me the truth!”

Harvey looks away from the anger blazing in Mike’s eyes and focuses back on his coffee, the silence dragging out between them.

Mike drains his coffee and throws it at the bin, it’s a three-metre throw, and in all the times he’s tried to land the shot, he never has.  But this time it lands in the bin perfectly, doesn’t even hit the rim.  It’s a first.  Harvey meets Mike’s eyes in disbelief, and they both crease themselves laughing, the tension leaving the room immediately.  When the laughter starts to die down, they are left grinning at each other, and Mike gives Harvey an affectionate nod.  That’s all it takes for Harvey to start talking, and it just spills out of him.

“Every year, I go and visit my dad’s grave.  And every year it’s a shitty day for me, the whole day I feel lonely and angry, and I hate the ride home on that stupid train.  I have all the happy memories on the way there, you know?  But on the way home…”

Harvey sighs and rubs his temples.  He leans forward and picks up the business card, running his fingers over Mike’s writing slowly as he speaks.

“Last anniversary, I found this in my pocket, on the train after.  I don’t know when you put it in there, but when I read it I burst out laughing, and I knew that even though this train ride would always be shitty, that I’d found someone who got me, and who knew how to make me laugh.”

Harvey searches Mike’s face and sees that he understands.

“That’s why I kept it.  Because it means something to me.”  You mean something to me.

“It was at the train station,” Mike squeaks, mouth still dry and faculties lost as Harvey’s declaration of feelings for him bounces around in his head.

“Ah, Donna texted me, and I know how it feels, you know, on that day, and I didn’t want you to feel alone.  So, uh, all I had was a file, business cards and a pen on me, so I improvised.”  Mike shrugs like it was nothing.

Harvey nods, and a soft smile settles on his face.  The light from the morning sun catches his eyes, and Mike gets lost for a minute watching him.

After a moment, Mike hesitantly asks, “Are we good?”

Harvey doesn’t answer immediately, weighing up his options.  They seem good, but what got them here in the first place hasn’t been resolved yet.

“Yeah, we’ve been better though,” he eventually answers.

Mike gets it, he hears that he’s not entirely forgiven but considering the circumstances Harvey’s starting to build a bridge.

The building is starting to come alive; they can hear the thud of file boxes being piled up by couriers, and voices drifting along the corridor.

“Look, Mike, I don’t know what Donna’s plan is here but can we just-”

“Have fun with it?  Not take it too seriously?”  For Harvey’s sake, Mike will make out like this is a game, but they both know a lot has been revealed about their relationship this morning.

“Something like that,” Harvey agrees.

“Sure thing, boss.  Truthfully, I’m just glad Donna didn’t decide to ransack my apartment and discover the Harvey Specter doll I got Joy to make, you know, to keep my little Mikey doll company.”

Mike’s eyes are glistening with laughter.

“Idiot,” Harvey jokes, giving him a playful shove, and trying to hide his smile.

“Okay boys, where were we?”

Donna’s been watching them from outside the door, delighted to see that Harvey is unconvincingly trying not to smile but instead look unaffected, and that Mike’s body is turned toward him.  She grabs a picture from the box on Harvey’s desk and places it on the coffee table in front of Harvey, and oh boy, if looks could kill.

“Are you familiar with the item in this photograph?” she says sweetly like she isn’t about to make him seem like a lovesick teenager.

“Yes,” he answers, in the most bored tone he can conjure up.  “It’s a picture of the answering machine in my home office.”

“And do you keep any of the messages you receive on it?”

Fuck.  No, double fuck.  “Just the one, I don’t get many, and I rarely delete them.”

Harvey shifts so he can lean on his hand and hide half of his face from Mike because he knows exactly where this line of questioning is going.

“Is that your sworn testimony?  Because I seem to recall that you almost always let the machine take messages when you’re home so you can screen calls.”

“Fine, I get a few messages. Is there a question here?”

Mike is staring inquisitively at Harvey now.  He’s never seen anyone Harvey’s size try to make themselves invisible in a chair.

“Harvey Reginald Specter, this particular voicemail is two years old.  All the others got deleted.  Could you please explain why that is?”

“Nope.”  Well, yes, he can, but he’s hoping that Donna’s interpretation will be less ‘lovesick teenager’ and more ‘haha that’s funny.’

“Nope?  Well, let’s hear it then.”

Harvey groans as Donna grabs her phone and for the second time today, hits the play button, signalling his doom.

The recording starts with heavy breathing, Mike’s heavy breathing.  Then a drunk Mike slurs, “Harveeee, lemme housesit your condo. Pllleeeeeassse! I’ll love you forever. Pllleeeeeassse.”

Mike’s eyes widen in mortification, and then he bursts out laughing.  Harvey looks at him incredulously, wondering how him keeping this message could possibly be funny, while instantaneously trying to fabricate a decent excuse for still having it.

“I don’t even remember leaving that message, man I must have been wasted!”  Mike is still laughing as is Donna, so she replays it again for good measure.

“It was during the insider trading case; you were wasted.  You came to my door drunk off your ass, I shut the door in your face, and you must have called me on your way home.  I planned to use it to bribe you someday.”

Mike seems to consider that.  It’s not a great cover-up, but it will do.  Well, until Donna throws her ten cents in.

“Maybe you kept the voicemail because Mike says he’ll love you forever, Harvey,” Donna interjects.

“Objection, calls for speculation.”

“You’re a stubborn pain in the ass; you’re aware of that, right?”  Donna might have kept her cool for the most part, but Harvey can tell she’s getting frustrated.

“I object to the name calling, you have known I’m a pain in your ass for over ten years.  Now, are we done here?  May I make a closing statement?”

“Sure, okay,” Donna agrees, sounding defeated as she perches next to Mike on the couch and waits for Harvey to crush her evidence.

“Donna,” Harvey says softly, reaching out a hand over Mike and squeezing her knee, “I know that you are just trying to help me get over this, and I love you for that, I do.  But you should know better than anyone, that I do things in my own time, and on my own terms.

“You know I respect you, but you’ve failed to produce any evidence that suggests I care about Mike, all you have produced is proof that I did care, nothing you have shown me is current and would stand up in court.”

Donna frowns at him and crosses her arms.

Harvey sighs.  “To speed things up I’ll admit, I did care about Mike.  But things change, and you haven’t proven shit.  And if you continue with this,” he gestures to the evidence box, “then this season’s Balenciaga bag is going to be in jeopardy.”

Donna’s eyes bulge at the mention of her beloved yearly Balenciaga bonus.  She stands, walks around the coffee table and squats down by Harvey’s side and grabs his forearm.

Mike is ready to see the apology of the century, but then Donna winks at him, and makes the closing argument Harvey certainly didn’t see coming.

“On the contrary, Harvey, the evidence might not be current, but it is overwhelming.  I’m your secretary and your best friend.  I know you better than anyone else.  I wouldn’t waste my precious time gathering all this evidence up just to throw it in your face and have you come up with excuse after excuse as to why it was inadmissible, irrelevant, open to interpretation, blah blah blah.  I did all of this so Mike would see it.  Now I might just be a legal secretary, but even I know that Mike’s interpretation of the evidence will be that you more than just care about him.”

Harvey looks genuinely shocked.  She played him.  This whole bet was supposed to be between him and her, but she’d snuck Mike in knowing that Harvey wouldn’t kick him out.  Then presented this all for Mike’s benefit, not for Harvey to defend himself.  Jesus.

Mike is trying his hardest not to laugh at Donna’s little victory dance, as Harvey realises that she’s just outwitted the best closer in New York.

“What’s so funny?”  Harvey asks, side eyeing Mike.

“Nothing,” Mike replies, holding his hands up in surrender, “I just thought that Donna would make a pretty good fake-lawyer too.”

Harvey can admit he’s kind of proud of her; she’d played the man and won.

“Okay, that’s enough from the peanut gallery,” Harvey exclaims, smiling and shaking his head at Mike.

“So, am I done here?” Donna interjects smiling, and then puts on her best performance yet, nailing a Harvey impersonation.  “Not, ‘You and I, we’re done’, done, but ‘can I leave’ done?”

Mike, a fully-grown man, cackles.  Harvey groans and puts his head in his hands.

“Did I really say it like that?”  he asks, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” they both say in unison.

“You even licked your lips, you asshole,” Mike elaborates, but there’s no sting to his words.

Donna sees Harvey’s dimples, as a genuine loving smile, the one that only Mike can bring out, graces his face and she knows they’ll be okay from here.

“Well, I think the prosecution rests,” Donna declares, looking genuinely happy.

Harvey gives her a smirk and signals with a look that she should go.

“Good, I’ll leave you two to think about your closing arguments to each other.”

Donna winks, then heads for the door, stopping after a few steps and turning back and looking at Mike.

“You might want to check out that box, Mike.  He kept a birthday card that you called him old in, your first ID badge is marking the page you quoted verbatim from his personal barbri legal handbook, his phone’s home screen is a photo of you two-”

“Donna!”  Harvey warned, but she ignored him and continued like he hadn’t said a word.

“And I haven’t even mentioned the queued episodes of ‘Different Strokes’ on your television, a show you have claimed to hate on more than one occasion, and a show Mike loves.  Or the Tom Ford suit hanging in your wardrobe in Mike’s size, waiting for what I wonder, the occasion he may need it after sleeping-”

“Objection, badgering,” Mike barks, standing up between Harvey and Donna, protecting his own.

“’Attaboy, puppy,” Donna says, as she walks over and kisses him on the cheek.

Then she is gone, and the room is deathly silent, Mike still staring at the glass door of Harvey’s office.

Mike rubs his hands together nervously and sits back down.  “So?”  he says slowly, hoping that Harvey will start the conversation that they obviously need to have.

“Yeah,”  is all Harvey voices in response, though internally he curses to himself and curses Donna for her parting remarks.

“This,” he comments eventually, gesturing to the evidence box, “it doesn’t mean what you think it means, Mike.”

“No?  So, the thing about the suit in your wardrobe, in my size, was bullshit?”

Mike sounds sceptical, almost as if he knew it was true the moment he’d heard it.

Harvey doesn’t want to lie, he really doesn’t.  “Ahh-”

“You know what, don’t answer that.  I’m just going to assume that you’ve wanted to get into my pants since the day we met,” Mike teases, licking and biting his lips and wiggling his eyebrows.

Harvey snorted, “I don’t think that’s the case Donna just argued, plus I’m pretty sure if I wanted to sleep with you, rookie, you’d have your pants off quicker than Superman.”

Without missing a beat, Mike answers delightedly, “So it’s a Superman suit hanging in your wardrobe, I didn’t know you were into cosplay, Harvey?”

“Mike, it’s not like that,” Harvey says weakly, but even he doesn’t believe it.

Mike’s having none of it anyway.

“Yes, it is!  Donna was quite clearly arguing that you love me, and you’re too much of a chicken to tell me I hurt you that much more because of it,” Mike explodes.

Mike might have hit the nail on the head, but he’s still hurt, and they can’t do this now.  “Mike, we shouldn’t be having this conversation here.”

“Bullshit, Harvey, it’s now or ne-”

“You were supposed to trust me,“ Harvey cuts in, his voice showing all the hurt and anger he’s been hiding, "I thought you did, but you proved me wrong.  You should have come straight to me and we could have worked it out, together, like we used to.” “Harvey, Jessica threatened me,” Mike pleads, “I thought I had no other choice.” Harvey sprung to his feet and shouted, “No other choice but to betray me?”

Mike physically deflates in front of him, and Harvey realises he’s standing over him and sits back down immediately.  Taking a deep breath, he lets Mike see the whole truth.

“People think because I say I don’t care, that they can’t hurt me, but this did, Mike, this,” he waves his hands between Mike and himself, “you hurt me.” Mike stays silent, the corners of his eyes wet and threatening to spill over. He feels winded by Harvey’s words.  He’s hurt the man who gave him everything.  When he does speak, his voice is a feeble whisper.

“Harvey, I’m sorry, I didn't…” “Exactly, you didn’t know,” Harvey finished for him.  “I thought we were different, I actually thought you…”  Harvey doesn’t finish the sentence, because it’s too painful to think that he loved someone that didn’t love him back.  Instead, he stands.

“I need to go,” he explains, heading for the door. Mike springs to his feet and grabs for Harvey’s forearm, spinning him around, “No, you don’t get to leave it like this,” he argues. “We are different.”

Mike tightens his grip because he needs Harvey to stay, he needs him to listen and to see.

“At first Louis thought you’d want me back, he said that Batman needed Robin,” Mike huffs out a half-hearted laugh, “but you didn’t want me, so I wrote my resignation letter and I agreed to help Louis out on one last case, because, Harvey, I don’t want to be here if I’m not with you.”

He meets Harvey’s gaze, and his hands start shaking.  He’s certain that this is the moment for him to lay it all out, and he’s scared fucking shitless of being rejected.  He closes his eyes, breathes in and says the first thing that comes to mind as he stares into Harvey’s trusting eyes when he opens his own again.

“Jesus, Harvey, you’re everything to me.”

Harvey tilts his head slightly and takes a slow, deep breath in, as a mish-mash of unrehearsed, blatantly genuine words continues to pour out of Mike.

“When Grammy died, they only person I trusted was you.  I even changed my emergency contact to you, for fuck’s sake.”

Mike’s chest heaves.  He’s offloaded everything he’s been keeping to himself.  He lets go of Harvey, throws himself back onto the couch and watches as Harvey starts pacing the room.  It’s all on him now and they both know it.  Mike tries not to hope too hard.  Tries not to think about whether he said everything he could to make Harvey see that this was it for him.

It takes Harvey a solid five minutes to say something, and Mike has bitten three fingernails down to the quick in that time.

“I knew.”

Mike has no idea what he’s talking about.  “You knew what?”

“Human Resources called me to check if it was okay that I was your emergency contact,” Harvey explains.  He crosses the room and stands in front of Mike.

Mike looks up and into Harvey’s soft brown eyes.  “And it was? Okay?”

Harvey calls him an idiot for the second time that day as he grabs Mike’s hands from his lap and pulls him up and against him in one swift move, and of course, Harvey is smoother than Barry White.  “Idiot,” Harvey mutters again as he presses his lips softly against Mike’s.

It’s over in a heartbeat, but it’s soul binding, and Mike wants more immediately, once he’s over the shock, that is.

Harvey observes Mike as he breaks the kiss and he can’t help but smile at the slack-jawed, shocked look on his face.  But after a second to compose himself, Mike grins and laughter erupts from deep down inside him.  The reaction baffles Harvey.

“Mike?”

Mike explains himself immediately, “Donna was right, you care about me,” he teases in the most annoying voice he can manage, purposely trying to rile Harvey up.

Harvey rolls his eyes.  “Wow, who made you a lawyer, Captain Obvious?”

Mike licks his lips, leans forward and whispers into Harvey’s ear, “Just some dude that wanted to get into my pants.”

Harvey smirks and gently pushes Mike away, “That’s it, lippy, I told you not to call me ‘dude.’”

His poker face when it comes to Mike Ross needs work, he thinks as he struggles to hide an affectionate grin.

Mike pounces, scruffing him by the shirt front, no doubt leaving wrinkles, and whispers, “Please kiss me some more.”

Harvey’s hand rests against his cheek, and he slides his thumb across Mike’s jaw.

“Rooftop in five minutes, rookie, and if you promise never to mention today again, I’ll sweeten the deal and get into those pants.”

“Deal,” Mike agrees, already headed for the door.  He flies down the hallway, heading for the stairwell, faster than the speed of light.

The End

Thanks for reading! X   Link to AO3 here.

[lucxhale]

they're really making it look like donna is the only one that has feelings for harvey, and that it's not reciprocated lol it doesn't make any sense i'm so mad

[tastymoves]

lemon drops - harvey/mike

Two business rivals who despise each other in real life unwittingly fall in love over social media...

"You've Got Mail"-AU

Where Mike works for the Chelsea Law Clinic and has to go up against Harvey on a case. Where they've been exchanging messages on Instagram for months without knowing who the other person is. Where Harvey finds out he's been talking to Mike all along and has to convince him that he is not a bad person after all.

read lemon drops @ AO3

[youaregoingtobefine]

The cast of Suits celebrates the 100th episode on set.

[suits100]

Two Days Left Till @suits100 Closes

Suitors -

there are two days left for you to post your @suits100​ contributions!

So roll up your sleeves and have fun finishing your fills! :D

And please have a look at all the wonderful fanworks that have already been posted and check out our masterlist! ISN’T THAT AMAZING???