A/N: After episode 6. In character, but semi-AU background. (AKA I made shit up about Harvey's past). I was going to wait until I finished it all, but I decided to post as a WIP. Updates soon!

Also, this story is actually gen for once. Well, as gen as the slashiest show on television can be. So there will be hints at the fact that they're clearly in love with each other, but nothing will be actively done about it. Just thought I'd let you know.

The first thing Harvey did when he arrived at the office was barge into Jessica's office. He didn't care that she was on the phone with a client, this was more important. She shot him a glare, and continued her conversation, then finally hung up and turned to face him.

"To what do I owe this polite visit?"

Harvey crossed his arms. "I'm not going to the baseball game with Louis."

Jessica smiled, "Yes you are."

Harvey went into lawyer mode. "I have a deal to propose," he began. "You want me to bond? I'll bond. Just not with that sniveling creep. Let me take Mike to the game."

Jessica cocked her head, surprised. She considered for a moment. "Well, I actually am not opposed to that idea. So far you have done almost nothing for the kid. He needs a mentor, and he's got… you. So I guess that's alright with me if you take him instead."

Harvey nodded. "Good." he said simply, and turned to leave.

Jessica smirked at his back.

Harvey strode briskly to Mike's cubicle and dropped the ticket on his desk. "Sunday night. Be ready by six."

Mike looked at the ticket somewhat suspiciously. "We're going to a baseball game?" he asked. "What's the catch?"

Harvey shrugged. "No catch. Jessica thinks we need to bond. So we are going to bond. And watch the Yankees cream the Orioles."

Mike stared up at him incredulously. "Alright then," he shook his head disbelieving. "Baseball it is."

When Sunday finally rolled around, Mike woke up at noon in a panic. He only had six hours to prepare. What was he supposed to wear? What would i Harvey/i be wearing? Was this a test? He was good at tests, the kind on paper at least, but what if he disappointed Harvey? If anyone could manage to fuck up a simple baseball game, it was Mike Ross. He realized he was hyperventilating and tried to calm himself down. It wasn't a date, for Christ's sake, it was a Yankees game.

Then Mike realized that he knew nothing about baseball. He'd always been terrible at sports, so he'd never bothered to watch them on TV or anything. Baseball was the one with bases, right? And bats? And people on a field? Crap he didn't know any of the players' names. How could he bond with Harvey if they couldn't even talk about the activity they were participating in?

He frantically googled the Yankees. Okay, so Derek Jeter was the pitcher… the name sounded vaguely familiar to Mike. And then there was Alex Rodriguez who played third base. Hadn't he been in some scandal with Madonna? Mike knew he was probably the world's worst New Yorker, but really, baseball just didn't do anything for him.

But he knew Harvey liked it, and so he spent the next three hours reading everything the MLB website had to say about the Yankees. He would be a fucking baseball trivia machine.

At five 'o'clock, he took a shower. Then he pulled on a clean pair of dark jeans and a plain navy tee-shirt, (he'd discovered that that was the Yankees color), and ran his fingers through his hair. Harvey would be there in ten minutes. He recited all the players again in batting order—and their averages, number of RBIs, stolen bases, jersey numbers, and fucking birthdays-anything that Harvey could possibly be interested in.

He now knew what a rundown was, and when to sacrifice bunt. He knew about tagging up, and what a full count meant. In theory, he could play the best damn game of baseball in the history of man. If only he could, you know, catch a ball.

His doorbell buzzed, jerking him out of his thoughts. He raced to open it and met face to face with Harvey. He took a step back, gaping. This was a Harvey he had never seen before. His perfectly gelled hair was smashed under a navy cap, and he was wearing a loose tee-shirt emblazoned with the Yankees logo and "2009 World Series Champs".

And he was wearing shorts.

Mike stared openmouthed until Harvey cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Mike nodded.

Harvey looked him up and down. "Where's your glove?"

"My what?"

"Your glove. We have third baseline seats, 6th row. Foul balls."

Mike frowned. Balls flew into the stands? That sounded dangerous!

"I, uh, don't have one."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Figures. Come on, we're going to be late." And he walked away down the hall, leaving Mike to lock up behind him and then rush to catch up.

The car ride was quiet. They didn't have any cases to talk about, and Harvey wasn't the type for idle chat, so Mike just stared out the window as they whizzed through the city. Ray pulled into the stadium parking lot, and Harvey arranged with him where to pick them up. Then they got out of the car and he pulled away.

Harvey started walking towards the turnstiles, again without a word to Mike. Mike looked around at the mass of people in the parking lot, many standing around their cars drinking beer or barbecuing. He remembered reading about this. It was called tailgating.

Harvey turned around and saw Mike's awed expression. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and shook his head. "Don't tell me this is your first baseball game."

Mike shrugged. "Guilty."

Harvey let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe he should have just gone with Louis.