Alas, a lack of Suits in my life. In that I don't own it, so don't sue me.
Author's Note: I have no idea how long this is going to be. I'm two chapters and about three thousand words in. It's not done. Not even close. It's also written from a prompt from the lovely 1stBonesFan. I hope you like it, sweetheart, cuz I'm probably taking prompt number 9 in a weird direction. Sorry. But the way I see it, Harvey doesn't get distracted the way other people do. Harvey half-asses nothing. Include the usual apologies for typos and the like.
Mike couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. Like a stray hair on the back of his neck that he couldn't brush away, he felt eyes. Someone's gaze, steady and unfaltering, documenting his every move. He peered around the bullpen repeatedly, but never managed to catch anybody looking. He wolfed down a hot dog in the plaza outside the building, surreptitiously glancing around. There was no one he recognized, no one showing an undue amount of interest. If work had made Mike a hermit before, the constant needling anxiety that somebody was watching him made him a shut in. Alone in his apartment, he was content that it was next to impossible for someone to be monitoring him.
At work, the feeling wouldn't go away. In fact, it was worst there. The stomach turning idea that somebody had discovered his secret- their secret- only made the sense of bile in his throat keener. If this was what being stalked was like, the frivolous paperwork he seemed to be always filling out for paranoid clients suddenly seemed utterly reasonable.
Mike was freaking out, officially. He was practically vibrating in his desk chair, mind spinning at a million miles a second. In the last week he could think of at least a hundred opportunities in which he had been completely open to assault. And if somebody knew, wouldn't they just go to Jessica? He'd know if they had. Mike swallowed hard, trying to focus on proofing the brief in front of him. Even hunched as small and unobtrusive as he could make himself in his cubicle, there was a nagging sense of an audience. Finally he couldn't take it anymore, jumping to his feet and striding to Harvey's office.
"Where do you think you're going?" Donna scoffed at him, but her eyes were soft. Mike made a trembling noise, something between discomfort and full blown anxiety.
"I gotta talk to Harvey," he informed her, shuffling his feet.
"Harvey's not here," Donna gestured at the empty office, regarding him with a pointed look, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Mike attempted nonchalance, "Can I wait?" He moved towards Harvey's door. Donna held up a hand to stop him.
"Not unless you tell me what's going on. I'm going to find out anyway," she reasoned, and Mike could see a flicker of concern in her eyes. He glanced around before leaning in close.
"I think somebody knows, Donna. Somebody's watching me," he whispered, forcing down a new wave of panic that threatened to swamp him as he actually put voice to his thoughts.
"Yeah, all right Rockwell," Donna snorted at full volume, "By all means, go grab a seat. Harvey should be back soon, and I can't wait to see how he deals with this new form of separation anxiety."
Mike didn't even care that she was mocking him, he was perched on Harvey's couch within a matter of seconds. He felt calmer there.
When Harvey appeared in the hall a moment later, he faltered at the site of Mike ensconced in his office. After a quick, frowning exchange with Donna, he entered his office.
"What is it?" Harvey didn't seem concerned, merely perplexed.
"Are we alone?" Mike felt stupid asking, but Harvey glanced at Donna nonetheless. Donna shot Mike a dirty look before shutting off her intercom.
"I'm not going to repeat myself, Mike," Harvey informed him after a long moment of silence.
"Somebody knows. About me," Mike blurted, and Harvey went still.
"Did you tell someone?" Harvey asked curtly, and Mike knew he was thinking of Rachel.
"No. That's over with because I couldn't tell her. Because you forbade me from telling her. I just... I feel like somebody is looking at me when I'm here. I get these weird moments where I just know somebody is watching me," Mike explained lamely. Harvey rolled his eyes.
"And in these moments, are you doing anything incriminating?" he asked.
"No," Mike admitted, "I'm usually just working. It's just really bugging me out, okay? Maybe nobody knows. Maybe I'm crazy. But something's just not right." Mike could hear in his voice that he was almost pleading, and he didn't care. If Harvey didn't get it, he was on his own. Harvey made an indistinct noise that sounded something like a prayer for sanity and sank into a seat beside Mike.
"You're not crazy, you're just over thinking it. When anyone over thinks, and especially when you do, you become hyperaware. It's probably just somebody spacing out in your general direction," Harvey reasoned, but Mike was shaking his head before Harvey finished.
"I would've caught them at it. I just feels like surveillance. Somebody is taking an active interest in me," Mike insisted.
"Maybe some other partner is thinking of trying to poach you? Maybe it's just Louis being creepy, as he's apt to do," Harvey suggested before shaking his head, "Just try not to worry about it. I'm sure it'll pass."
Mike was still doubtful, and he knew it was visible on his face when Harvey half rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.
"You can work in here if you want, all right? Today," Harvey offered, and it occurred to Mike that he must seem pretty wild if Harvey was being this nice to him. Not that Mike wasn't going to take full advantage.
"Thanks. I'm just gonna grab my stuff," Mike was out the door in a flash. Harvey slumped back into the couch and scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Well?" Donna's voice sounded over the intercom.
"The kid's clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown. I do not have time for that. So I'm letting him work in here so he'll calm down and get something done," Harvey grumbled, standing and moving to his desk.
"Right. So definitely nobody is watching him." There was something in Donna's voice that Harvey did not appreciate.
"No, Donna. He's not being surveilled. He's paranoid. If I were capable of such base emotions, I might be too," Harvey snapped, flicking open his laptop as he settled into his chair.
Mike's return cut off any rejoinder from Donna. He was lugging a file box, and still looking furtive, but the tenseness in his shoulders had slackened some. Harvey watched absently as Mike arranged himself on the couch, spinning the box lid in his fingers before digging out file after file, not to mention a rainbow of highlighters. Mike's suit jacket was looking a bit snug in the shoulders and arms; Harvey noted a straining at the shoulder seams. Perhaps the boxing was finally paying off. Mike's wardrobe always needed upgrading, maybe he should call Rene...
"This Ground Control to Major Harvey. Commencing countdown, engines on," Mike was waving a hand, grinning smarmily. Harvey's eyes narrowed as he jerked into the present.
"Do not quote Bowie at me."
"Yeah," Mike's grin had not dropped a millimeter, "All right."
By the end of the day, Mike was burrowed into Harvey's couch looking for all the world like it was his own office he was lounging in. He'd kicked off his shoes and tucked his legs beneath him, head bowed over the file resting in his lap. Harvey had looked up from his laptop to ponder something aloud, knowing Mike would having something to say. Probably not anything useful, but something. The sight of Mike's head bobbing to Stevie Ray on the record player made Harvey's mind go momentarily blank. Mike was half-mouthing the words to Wall of Denial and the thought that maybe he had never seen anything so goddamn sexy in his entire life was quashed before it was fully formed.
"Are you hungry?" That was not what Harvey had intended to ask, and the terrifying idea that he had no idea what he what he had intended to ask made his eyes go dark. Mike frowned at him.
"I could eat. Are you all right?" Mike's eyebrow cocked, his head tipped to one side, and he regarded Harvey curiously. Harvey didn't seem to notice. His eyes had gone glossy, though still just as dark. He was staring directly at Mike, who struggled to glean anything from the odd look on Harvey's face.
Mike waited patiently for a moment, and then: "Hello? Hello? Anybody home? Huh? Think, McFly."
Harvey started slightly when Mike's knuckles brushed against his forehead, a much gentler version of a noogie.
"What the hell are you doing?" he knocked Mike's hand away, snapping back in his chair.
"I dunno," Mike didn't seem fazed by the rush of anger, "You were... gone. I Mcfly'ed you."
Harvey was quiet for a long moment.
"Yes, and I'm only letting you get away with it because that line is so oft misquoted."
"Sure," Mike rolled his eyes, "Are we eating, or what?"
Harvey would have to roll with it.