Original prompt by anon: MIB!AU.
Come on, guys. I know you want it too.
Harvey is the organization's best agent who just wants to work alone because if he has to suffer another idiot as partner again, he's going destroy the planet himself and Mike the ex-cop who's assigned as Harvey's new partner.
I'd like to read slash. H/M is my favourite pairing, but I can take GEN without much pain.
BONUS: Donna as some alien who was saved by Harvey and is staying because she has to pay her debt to him and because the people on the organization amuses her, as they seems perpetually scared of her.
Mike ran through the stairwell at full speed, not caring about anything except the cop pursuing him.
In his hand was Trevor's briefcase, which contained vacuum-packed bags of weed. Enough to put him in jail and destroy his grandmother's chances of staying in a private health care facility. Mike was determined to never let that happen; that's why he'd taken this job in the first place, after all.
He was going to kill Trevor if he ever made it out of here.
Bursting through the second floor stair access door he brought up the hotel's floor plan in his mind, hoping it would provide him with an escape route.
He recalled a sign in the lobby of the hotel that advertised law interviews for somewhere in the hotel. The sign had read: PEARSON HARDMAN/HARVARD LAW INTERVIEWS/ROOM 2005. Mike had always dreamed of being a lawyer until Trevor had screwed him over, which was starting to be a recurring theme. He headed for the interview location thinking maybe it was a sign of his fortune changing. He could hardly imagine it getting any worse at this point.
Mike rushed into the room populated by a large number of goofy, suit-wearing dweebs with briefcases identical to his own—only he suspected that none of theirs were filled with illegal drugs. He turned to find a very attractive and yet very intimidating redhead sitting at a desk.
"Rick Sorkin?" she asked him rudely. Mike looked around to make sure she was addressing him. He nervously tried to control his breathing and disguise the fact that he'd just run down a stairwell from undercover police officers. "Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin, you are five minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?"
Mike put up a placating hand, hoping he could stall enough to slip his tail. "L-look, I'm just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don't really care if you let me in or not," he panted nervously, scanning for an exit.
He certainly didn't expect the redhead's demeanor to instantly change from hostile to helpful. "Mr. Specter will be right with you," she said kindly.
"…What?"
"Can I get you anything? A coffee or a bottle of water?"
Mike just stared at her confusedly until an extremely well-dressed, classy man in a three-piece suit came out of the room to his right and guided Mike inside.
Mike followed the suit dazedly, shaking the offered hand. "Hi, uh…Rick Sorkin," he managed.
"Harvey Specter. Nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat here," the man said with a charming smile as he indicated the fancy oak desk just a few feet from them. Just as Harvey turned to walk away, Trevor's cursed briefcase chose that precise moment to betray Mike. It popped open, spilling its entire contents all over the floor.
Harvey looked down and back at Mike, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Whoa! What's this?" he asked too cheerfully.
Mike opened his mouth to respond, wondering how he was going to explain this, sure he was going to jail for a long time, when a tremendous crash sounded from the main room.
Harvey turned to it, groaned slightly, and proceeded to rush out of the room. Mike followed quickly and entered a scene from an old sci-fi film, complete with the terrible alien design and poor special effects. Except that it appeared, against all odds, to be real.
There was some sort of strange alien-monster in the middle of the room, complete with flailing tentacles and gaping maw. Its head appeared to be made entirely of its mouth, which held ten rows total of gleaming, pointed teeth that were dripping with gooey saliva. Atop its head were six protruding eyestalks that held bloodshot orbs the size of baseballs.
The room was quickly turning into a disaster zone. All the interviewees were running for their lives, bolting for the room's only exit. Unfortunately for Mike, he was on the entirely wrong side of the room.
"What the…" he trailed off as he saw that the alien was wearing what appeared to be a bellhop's uniform. It must have been the fake one that had been chasing him. His theory was soon confirmed as it caught sight of Mike and proceeded to aim a large slimy tentacle at him.
Mike dodged, pressing himself back against the wall as he noticed two people remaining in the room. One was the redhead, who was wielding some sort of large, silvery ray gun the size of a bazooka. She yelled at him to get back. The other occupant was Harvey Specter, who looked entirely unruffled at the sight of the monster, and was aiming some elegant-looking device at it. It looked like a garage door clicker except that it emitted the most shrill, ear-piercing screeching that Mike had ever heard in his life. Harvey and the redhead looked unfazed by the sound, but Mike and the monster weren't so lucky.
Mike threw his hands up as he cringed against the wall, vainly attempting to block the sound with his hands as earplugs. The creature employed a different method. It, too, covered its ears; but the thing had more arms than everyone in the room combined, allowing it to violently swing its remaining tentacles frantically in the hopes of halting the noise.
It struck Harvey quickly in the gut, causing the man to lose the device, which went flying to land not two feet from Mike's position on the wall. The redhead dodged a tentacle to the head only to have another one sweep her legs from under her. The ray gun let out a blast that blew drywall from the ceiling directly above Mike's head. He leaped out of the way as it came crashing down.
As the two victims struggled to recover, the monster turned its attention to them, whacking them with its massive tentacles. Mike used the leap he'd taken to avoid the falling debris, and the brief pause in tentacle-dodging exercises to lunge for the clicker device.
He reasoned that it hurt the creature, and while it hurt Mike too, he was willing to endure the pain it would cause if it incapacitated the thing. He jammed the single, shiny button down and held on to the clicker for dear life.
The alien immediately returned its attention to Mike, aiming all of its tentacles except the two it was using as earplugs, at him. A few managed to wrap around his torso and his legs and were now slamming him against any flat surface in the hopes of getting him to release the device.
But there was no way in Hell Mike was letting go.
Just as his ribs felt like they were about to crack completely, and his brain felt like it was going to explode from the screeching and the impact of hitting numerous hard surfaces, the monster froze.
Mike opened his eyes against his pain-clouded judgment, and looked at the thing just in time to see its head explode. Guts and brain matter splattered everywhere, drenching Mike in the gross stuff as he fell to the floor with a dull thunk!
He lay there for a good minute, eyes open to slits, ribs protesting at every expansion and decompression of his lungs. His head really hurt, and he was fairly certain that it was soon going to follow the monster's example and explode when a gentle hand pried the device from Mike's grasp, silencing the piercing noise.
Mike looked up to see none other than Harvey Specter, looking entirely immaculate and completely untouched by alien goo.
Harvey said something to Mike, but all that Mike's sensory input registered was that the man's lips had moved. No sound reached him. In a moment of adrenaline-fueled panic, he reached up to examine his ears to find that they were still intact, despite the intense ringing sound that was starting to rip through his skull. Mike realized belatedly that he could now hear somewhat, and that Harvey and the redhead were discussing something next to him.
"This is why I didn't want to do this," Harvey complained. "Donna, would you—"
"On it," the redhead—Donna?—said.
Harvey turned back to Mike as the woman left the room. He crouched next to Mike's unmoving form, not a hint of concern on his face, and asked, "Still in there, kid?"
Mike nodded angrily, wincing as he tried to move. He flinched as his ribs gave a particularly sharp stab at his lungs, and the room began to spin.
When he opened his eyes—vaguely wondering when he'd closed them—Harvey was playing with something that looked like the ear destroying device. Mike shimmied away from it as much as his injuries would allow.
Harvey gave him an amused smirk. "Would you relax? It's just a scanner."
Mike stilled as he realized that whether or not it actually was a "scanner", it most definitely wasn't the clicker device. He allowed himself to relax.
"You've got some minor injuries. Nothing we can't fix in a pinch. Well, except the concussion, of course. Now, since I've been reassured that you are in fact still capable of human speech, do you want to explain why you came to a law interview carrying a briefcase full of pot?"