"You've been on that same page for the better part of the last hour."

She looked up at him, vaguely affronted that he had the nerve—the balls—to walk in her office and tell her how to do her job. He was barely doing his! In fact, Jessica knew for a fact that Harvey was passing his cases off to Mike—mostly the pro-bono ones. It irritated her, because as much as she tried to teach him empathy and compassion, Harvey refused to learn.

Jessica placed her pen down and leaned forward, folding her hands together on top of her desk, "And I suppose you have been watching me for the better part of the last hour?" She retorted, clearly unamused, "Don't you have something-or-the other to do with what's-her-face?"

"You sound like a jealous wife," Harvey commented. He walked over to the cabinet in her office and produced a bottle of scotch. He filled his tumbler halfway and plopped himself down on the couch, throwing the drink down his throat in a total of two gulps.

It had been a bitch of a day.

"No, Harvey, please, drink my liquor, I insist," Jessica said, sarcasm dripping off of every word. He was completely unbothered. Exasperatedly sighing, she stood from her chair and threw her pen down, "If you can't beat them—"

Harvey raised his glass. "Drink with 'em."

A low chuckle rumbled in her throat. "That is not how the saying goes and, unlike you, I am on the job."

"You've been on the job for thirteen hours—"He checked his watch, a smirk flickering across his face "Going on fourteen, we are allowed to have lives, you know. Ooh, I know, when was the last time you read—"

Jessica perked up and placed her feet up on the table. "I was reading before you rudely interrupted me."

"Something other than for work purposes. I can answer that…never," Harvey stated plainly, "You're not super woman, you know."

"If you are going to paraphrase Spider-Man, you can get out of my office," Jessica replied humorously and cast a good-natured look in his direction. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, "I can't just drop everything like you, Harvey. I am managing partner."

"Didn't stop Hardman."

How dare he compare her to that bastard? He wanted relaxed? Fine, she was all for it. He would regret the day and damn the hour that he brought that son-of-a-bitch's name up in her office. She leaned forward and toed off her nude Steve Madden pumps, sighing in complete relief as some of the soreness left her toes. Not quite finished 'relaxing' yet, Jessica moved her long legs from the coffee table in front of them and plopped them in Harvey's lap.

"How's that for relaxed?" Jessica asked, eyebrow raised.

Needless to say, Harvey was speechless. He eyed the shoes on the floor and let out a low whistle, "For Christ's sake, those things are at least six inches off the floor, Jessica, how do you manage to walk around in them all day and not pass out?"

"Pure skill, and those are only four inches," Jessica said in a near whisper, "Plus, I'm paying for that as we speak."

He looked at her confusedly.

"Don't you dare think that walking around in those all day is a cakewalk," She explained, pointing to the red spots on her feet, "My feet hurt like a bitch."

Surprised and taken off guard, Jessica nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his fingers slip between her toes and squeeze firmly. God that felt so good. She rested her head against the back of the coach in exhaustion and groaned, "I cannot tell you the last time I had a foot massage—"

"Enjoying yourself, then?" Harvey questioned and massaged his wrist into the arch of her foot.

Jessica swatted his shoulder, "Don't flatter yourself."

She watched him as he took care of all the sore and red spots on her feet. So much for lack of compassion and empathy. This may have been one of the few times that she had seen Harvey had put someone else's needs before his own. It was astonishing. At a loss for words, Jessica smiled stupidly to herself.

"What are you smiling about?" Harvey asked, briefly looking up, "Am I just that handsome—?"

She did an extraordinarily good job of not laughing in his face, "Didn't I tell you not to flatter yourself?" Jessica reminded him softly. After a few minutes' silence, she looked at him appreciatively and stood up, "I think I'm going to take the rest of the night off."

"The rest of the night? It's midnight, Jessica," Harvey said disbelievingly and stood up, red-faced, and unbelieving of the fact that his boss had just allowed him to touch—much less, massage—her feet.

She picked up her coat and slipped her shoes on again. Patting his chest lightly, Jessica walked toward the door and called behind her, "It's Friday, Harvey, and midnight or not, my night is just getting started."

"Go get 'em tiger," He said under his breath, as he followed her out of the office, "What do you know? The boss does have a life after all—what are you gonna do next? Get drunk with Donna and Rachel tomorrow night?"

Before getting on the elevator, she smirked at him and winked, "Oh no. We did that last Saturday." The last thing she saw before the doors shut was Harvey, standing open-mouthed in awe as he tried to fathom the thought of a drunk Jessica Pearson.

Who knew the boss had a life?