Title: In His Hand the Lightning Trembled (or Five Ways in Which Dean Winchester Pwned Harvey Specter)
Author: Sunshineditty
Fandom: Suits crossed with Supernatural AU
Word count: 2574
Rating: T for now (silly boys and their potty mouths)
Summary: This started out as a porn-y thought that popped into my head for no apparent reason other than I like pretty boys and sometimes Harvey Specter just begs to be taken down a peg or two. Dean Winchester seems like the guy to fit the bill – and maybe with a little Mike Ross thrown in for fun because his puppy-eyes begged me to include him in the man-meat sandwich. However, the further I got into it, the more the story changed until it became...this. There is no time stamp for either show (though there is random information gleaned from various seasons for both) and if the characters are a little off the usual cut, well, that's cause I've taken them into my world now.
I.
Harvey is a Very Important Man (emphasis on the capitalization and italics), so he can be excused for ignoring nearly every other human in his proximity as beneath his regard unless they are a) Jessica or Donna, b) a client, or c) his puppy Mike Ross. Therefore, it would shock anyone entering or monitoring that particular elevator one fine March morning, that he notices someone else getting into the small car with him. Of course, the shock would be smoothed over once any interested observer (and admittedly there would be a wide pool of people who watched his every move, thereby reinforcing his inflated Very Important Man ego) realized it was the clothes the man wore, not the man himself who initially caught Harvey's attention.
The suit – and he used the word reluctantly, loathe to put it in the same category as Rene's works of art – was not only off the rack (oh the horror! and hand-wringing! and wailing!) but ill-fitting to boot. Harvey thought he would be desensitized to this gaudy display, especially given what he had to work with once Mike became his...associate...but even Mike's former rags were ten times better than this sackcloth.
So Harvey being Harvey decided he couldn't allow this sartorial affront to go unnoticed or unpunished. He was a defender of liberty! Defender of justice! And defender of well-groomed metro sexual men everywhere!
"You do realize this is an exclusive law office and we have a ban against hobos loitering. In fact, I wonder how you managed to get through security dressed like that." Harvey raised his Blackberry threateningly. "If you promise to stay in the car until it returns to the lobby and exiting the building peacefully, I won't be forced to call security.
The suit suddenly grew a head and arms and legs right before Harvey's eyes, and the wearer turned amused green eyes in his direction, long blond lashes fluttering against high cheekbones, while a wicked grin curved sinfully plump lips into an enticing bow.
"Good-looking man, nice suit, douche-y attitude. You must be Harvey Specter."
Surprise widened his eyes, but he was unable to return a sally because the car halted and the doors slid smoothly open, allowing his combatant – and yes he was instantly upgraded to that for speaking back instead of dissolving into a quivering in a heap of jelly in the corner – to step out and throwing a jaunty two finger wave in his direction.
Harvey would not stand for this! He wasn't done dressing down (oh the irony of his thoughts had he but listened to his internal rant) the bad black-suited man with an ugly blue and white striped tie – though he had to give him points however reluctantly for not resorting to the same skinny ties Mike still favored even nearly two years later – so he followed him, uncaring of the astonished looks people flashed him as he stalked by. Harvey didn't even realize where they were going until the door to a familiar glass office opened and he shifted his attention enough to realize the man was entering Jessica Pearson's domain.
Smugness wafted from him as he pictured the sharp skewering he was about to witness, and stomped right in behind him, prepared to have the best seat in the house. Unfortunately for him, the gods of sartorial splendor were off making the two backed beast with their acolytes because Jessica's face went from faintly quizzical to demonstrably happy, even giddy if Harvey knew the word, as evidenced by her very un-Senior Managing Partner-like squeal and plunge around her desk to throw her arms around his rapidly becoming nemesis.
"Dean, you're actually here! I almost didn't believe when Steve called me saying you were downstairs."
Jessica was tall, especially in her very expensive Balenciaga heels (Harvey approved of her attire, absently noting how the striking orange accents of her shoes mirrored her jewelry, which was nicely set off by the beige D&G power suit she rocked), but she barely stood two inches above their mysterious guest.
"You sent out the bat signal, Jessie. I came as quick as I could."
"Last I heard, coming quickly wasn't a problem for you."
The white noise that abruptly canceled out his hearing was surely from some supersonic boom caused by a Top Gun wanna be pilot zooming past and rattling Jessica's windows, because his boss and the most circumspect woman he'd ever met – hell, she'd married, lived with, and divorced her husband in the fifteen years he'd known her and never let that pertinent fact slip – did not flirt or dirty talk with random strangers in the office. Or bars. Or anywhere really.
"...we've met."
Harvey snapped back to attention, mortified to see both occupants now staring at him. He was glad they'd ceased their licentious banter, but wasn't pleased by the laser focus turned on him.
"You met Harvey and survived? Wearing that?"
"Finally, someone with taste!" He heartily acknowledged the disdain oozing from Jessica. He was finally back on firm ground. "How could you allow that to darken our halls? We have standards to uphold! People to impress..."
"Wow you weren't kidding when you said I should avoid him at first. All over a friggin' suit?"
Jessica sighed and shook her head a little. "Can you see why I need your help?"
"If he's an asshole to everyone like this, no wonder he's getting death threats."
Harvey had continued to rant on, oblivious to their exchange, but his brain and ears finally spoke to one another and he stopped abruptly, his mind rewinding the last few moments (it is to be pointed out while his brilliance wasn't the same type as Mike's, it can't be said he wasn't a genius in his own right, though no one ever had to say it since Harvey did it enough for any two people).
"Wait...what?"
Dean's green eyes lazily slipped over him, heating bits and pieces of him not already currently bound up in rage, and Harvey shifted restlessly, halting immediately when he realized how vulnerable the fidgeting made him seem. And Harvey Aaron Specter was not prey.
"Dean, Harvey Specter the best damn closer in New York. Harvey, Dean Winchester, the best damn private eye on the eastern seaboard."
"Western too, really. Ever since Sammy joined the family biz, we control both coasts."
"And modest I see," Harvey snarked, unable to resist the dig.
"When you got it, flaunt it."
And boy did Dean flaunt it, the (allegedly) shabby coat falling open to reveal a thin blue shirt – the shade was so light, it was almost white against the dark black nap – which did nothing to hide the shadow of a tightly ribbed stomach. Harvey's mouth watered a little, but he chalked it up to no coffee or muffin yet. After all, he hadn't seen Donna …
"Donna!" He dragged his eyes (unwillingly) from the private dick (ha!) and growled at his boss. "She's the one who told you."
"Harvey, she shouldn't have had to. You should've come to me the instant you received the letter."
He waved this aside. "The letter was piddling next to the video he took of me sleeping..." oh shit, they didn't know about that.
Dean was suddenly all business, casual flirtation blanked from his expression. "You've received more, Mr. Specter?"
Harvey sighed heavily through his nose and blamed his momentary distraction on the clothing upset, but found he couldn't get too worked up when it was genuine concern etched across Jessica's face. Considering the amount of time, power, and money she'd poured into his making, he couldn't justify holding back when she'd orchestrated this on his behalf – whatever past she shared with Dean, it was obvious there was a marker she called in.
"It started out as random late night phone calls with heavy breathing, which admittedly aren't unknown for me." He smirked a little, knowing by Jessica's eye rolling and Dean's quirked brow, they understood the implied booty call . Harvey's smile faded though. "Then it wasn't just to my cell, but my house phone, the office phone, at different times of the day but no one ever responded when I answered. A few weeks went by of this before I changed my personal numbers and had IT change my extension here, so I thought it was finished when the calls stopped."
He stood then (briefly wondering when he'd sat to begin with but mentally waved it off as irrelevant), restlessly pacing in front of them, barely aware of them seated before him. "That's when the video showed up. It wasn't very well down, grainy and green like it was shot with night vision on the camera, but it was of my bedroom while I slept. And from the time stamps, different nights."
"Where did you receive the package?"
"It was left on the doorstep of my apartment. Which shouldn't have happened since all packages must be signed through the security of my building."
A large scarred hand reached out, lightly touching his wrist, and pulled Harvey from the burgeoning panic he'd barely been aware of until just this moment. He traced his gaze up the arm the hand belonged to and reached a broad shoulder, the surprisingly delicate jawline for such a masculine looking guy, before finally consenting to peer into Dean's eyes. The green was darker now and something within Harvey relaxed a little as assurance bled from those fascinating orbs. He was disconcerted by the unfamiliar feelings this stranger was pulling from him; it wasn't often Harvey felt anything less than smug, secure in his righteousness, and king of all he surveyed, but surprisingly, it wasn't a worrying sensation. He floated in the endless sea, almost content to just bob gently in the waves of soothing calmness buffeting him.
"I reamed the staff, had Sweepers come through the apartment to find the cameras, changed the locks and ramped up the cybernetic security for higher hacking capture, and junked the video. The next day the letter showed up detailing the gruesomeness of my death on Donna's desk."
Each word fell from his lips in a benign manner, all of the dread leached away as if by magic. He vaguely recognized the sensation and memories, locked behind two sets of steel doors, reinforced with iron will, and buried under rhetoric bullshit, teased at the periphery of his awareness.
"You're a sensate, aren't you?"
Dean reared back startled, his hand falling away.
The muffled veil between Harvey and his emotions was sheared in half and he plunged right back into the rage-fear-horror cycle, but he gladly donned the protection, feeling it armor him against the intrusiveness of the fucking empath's touch.
"Harvey -"
He ignored Jessica's intercession and stabbed a finger in the other man's direction. "Fuck you, Dean, and the little dog you rode in on."
Dean held up his hands in submission, a wry expression crossing his face. "Sorry, occupational hazard. I felt the turmoil of your emotions and I couldn't help myself."
"You do realize if you were a defendant in a case, you couldn't use that as a legal defense? My gift made me do it," Harvey's mouth curled up in disgust. "You should be wearing gloves."
He felt vengeful satisfaction when Dean's empathetic mask fell away for a brief second to show acidic anger at the insult. Barrier Cloth was no longer required of Touch Sensates, not since the early nineties when the law was finally struck down by the Supreme Court as unconstitutional because it deemed those with such gifts as other and left them unprotected to attacks. There were several interpretations of the law at the state legislature level of course, but on a national level, the sensates were no longer singled out and were considered a protected group; if they were registered as demanded since the early nineteenth century.
"You may be justified in your anger at his well-meaning intrusion, but if you continue to disparage him, we will have words."
The snapping pop of Jessica's words lashed against his senses and reeled him back from the churning cesspool of messy emotions he'd been mired in for – looking at his watch – little over an hour. Rolling his shoulders in an attempt to settle his nerves, he nodded sensibly, but avoided looking at Dean. He really was out of line for that crack, especially since he'd cheered with the rest of his schoolmates when the final decision was handed down. He didn't understand his reaction to the other man, so once again he chalked it up to the initial furor over that fucking suit.
"I might've been hasty with my words."
"Jesus, dude, don't let the stick up your ass fall out. Lucky for you I'm an Empath and forgiveness is kinda part of this schtick. Also, I shouldn't have crossed the barrier without your leave."
Harvey's resolution to avoid Dean failed and he looked at him in surprise at the formal words of apology. It was unexpected, just like everything that happened here this morning.
Dean's responding grin was nothing short of illegal and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners should be considered one of the holy sins. Just saying. Harvey shook himself free of the voice in his head (ignoring how it might've sounded a little like Mike) and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"While I don't think this stalker of mine warrants the presence of an outsider – I do have Veronica on retainer after all – I will allow it.
"I'm grateful, Harvey, really."
The dryness in Jessica's voice wrapped around him until he found himself unconsciously hunching his shoulders around his ears like he used to when he worked in the mail room all those eons ago. Annoyance at his uncharacteristic lapses in judgment and emotionality broke him free of the strangeness permeating the room.
"Well, now that's settled, I better get on with my day. Billables won't bill themselves without me..." he trailed off before he nattered on even more nonsensically, and walked out of the office, walking in a faster than normal but still dignified pace (fled like the coward he was) down the hall.
tbc