AN: This is a thank you gift for benedictcumberbatch on tumblr, who created so many edits and other stuff for me which I am truly grateful for. So, I asked her what kind of story she wanted in return and she decided on a SUITS/TW-crossover. Hope you like it, Maggie!

This story won´t be long - at least I don´t plan it to exceed 20k words - with chapters of around 2k words length. Don´t know when and how often I´ll update as university finals draw near and other projects demand my attention as well. But still I hope that you´ll all like it.

Mike Ross had a problem.

Nothing life-threatening. Nothing that could destroy his smoke-and-mirror act of pretending that he was a Harvard-qualified Junior Partner either. He hadn't smoked up since the one time Harvey nearly fired him over it and Louis had been suspiciously quiet over the last few weeks. There wasn't any attempt to destroy PSL and no scornful woman that wanted to castrate him for being an inattentive boyfriend.

So what was his problem?

Well, Mike´s current problem had brown, gelled-back hair, a smirk that made your knees wobbly and wore suits that made him look like he was about to leave his job as lawyer to go modelling for GQ or Men´s Health. It went by the name of Harvey Specter and it was also the reason why he currently had to juggle several folders of files he had been ordered to go through.

The problem, though, wasn't that Mike had had to go through several hundred pages of letters so tiny that you needed a magnifying glass to read it – he did that on a regular basis after all and was pretty awesome at it – but rather the fact that he was slowly falling in love with his boss.

Fuck it, who was Mike trying to kid, he was head over heels in love with the sarcastic, cocky and film-quoting ass that was his boss. And right here, in the filing room, he could admit it to himself, because Donna was at least three floors above him and therefore couldn't read his mind. His secret was safe here.

Mike sighed. It had all started as admiration. Because, who wouldn't start to admire Harvey for all that he had done for Mike. He was everything Mike ever wanted to be: self-assured, knowledgeable, successful, rich and doing the job Mike had always dreamed of. And then he had taken down-on-his-luck Mike and had given him the opportunity to reach all those goals as well.

Mike was pretty sure that you had to be a psychopath to not feel slight adoration for the man after all that. But then he had seen behind the façade that Harvey showed all those around him. He had seen a caring man; a loyal man, a just man, a man scared by his past so much that he feared to show all that to the people around him. And the moment Mike had seen this, he had gone off the deep end.

Mike wasn't stupid, though. He was well aware of the fact that Harvey wasn't and would never be interested in him beyond maybe friendship. A long strip of female one-night-stands had driven the point straight home. He had to be satisfied with what he had right now.

Besides, even if Harvey was interested, Mike didn't really know if he could ever dare to show Harvey the hidden parts of himself. The one that not even Trevor or Jenny had ever known, even though they had been his best friends. Harvey may think that he knew everything about one Mike Ross, but he was wrong. So wrong.

Mike was torn out of his thoughts when his mobile began to rang. He looked down on the screen and frowned when he saw the caller´s ID.

"I wouldn't have thought I´d hear from you again," Mike said when he accepted the call. "What do you need, Deaton?"

Stiles Stilinski had a problem.

Nothing life-threatening. Which, if he was honest – which he was quiet often since he had come out to his dad with all the werewolfy and supernatural stuff – was quiet a surprise. He kind of had become used to being in terrific danger every weekend instead of getting drunk on the many parties that were thrown all over Beacon Hills. By now he was an expert in getting blood and many other disgusting substances off diverse surfaces, like his favourite Batman shirt, the floor in Derek´s loft or Scott´s toothbrush (don't ask).

Okay, maybe he had lied a little bit. According to Deaton his situation may become – with a lot of belief, weird coincidences and bad luck – life-threatening. But hey, Stiles was a firm optimist and yeah, those died first in Beacon Hills, so thinking about it now, his situation was pretty shitty.

"What do you mean I´m gonna die?" he asked Deaton, who was standing in front of his operating table with folded hands and his 'I´m old and sage and mysteriously always have the answer for every of your problems, but only when shit already hits the fan'-expression. Okay, maybe Stiles was interpreting a little bit too much into that.

"I didn't say that you were going to die," Deaton said evenly.

"You said that the magical energies in Stiles´ body would soon reach a point where he would explode like a supernova, taking the whole town with him." Only Derek could deliver a statement in such a deadpan-tone that made you question your whole existence.

"That sounds pretty much like dying to me," Scott added with his sad puppy face of his. Stiles gave both of them his best dark glower, because – hello! – he was right there and he didn't need his friends to discuss his inevitable death while he was still there.

"Don´t be such a drama queen, Stiles," Lydia snapped at him, which made Stiles lift his hands in mock-surrender.

"Hey, don't violate the sanctity of my thoughts," he shot right back. "They´re mine and only a few chosen one will ever get to know them. How do you even know that what I was thinking was dramatic in any kind or form?" He narrowed his eyes at the strawberry-blonde. "Is this some evil-banshee-power manifestation that I have to look out for?" Lydia just rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't need some banshee powers to deduce what you were thinking," she replied bored. "You´re an open book to me." Stiles gawked at her, but before he could come up with something incredibly witty he was interrupted by Deaton.

"I said that there was the possibility of Stiles' magic reacting negatively if we won´t do something to prevent it from happening," Deaton continued as if nothing had happened. That dude was zen as fuck, Stiles thought.

"But why now?" Allison asked and Stiles could hug her for being the only reasonable one amongst his friends. "Stiles had his spark for years."

"And this is where I erred," Deaton replied, the frown back on his face. "I worked under the assumption that Stiles was a spark."

"Yes, I´m a spark, you told me several times," Stiles said.

"But you aren't," Deaton told him. "Do you remember how you defeated the witch coven a few weeks ago?"

"I blew them up," Stiles responded cheerfully. Stupid witches, who thought they could cut out Derek´s heart for some spooky ritual to get more power. He had shown them the error of their ways. Scott had given him the disappointed 'We do not kill' speech, but it hadn't been his crush- friend that was about to be sacrificed to some demon of Hell.

"And therein lies the problem," Deaton explained. "The witches had handcuffs on you that should have prevented you from accessing your spark. I have them here – a pretty admirable handwork. I haven't seen runes that delicate for a very long time. Instead, I have concluded, you took the energy of your surroundings and channelled them into yourself. That is something mages do, not sparks."

"I still don't see the problem," Stiles said confused. "Beside the name change."

"Your body is currently taking in more energy – more magic, you could say – than it´s giving off. At the rate this is going on, it will soon have reached a point where it cannot contain the energy any longer and then – as Derek so aptly put it – the 'supernova' will occur."

"Then just teach him how to handle the energies," Derek said as if he was completely done with their shit.

"I can´t," Deaton replied seriously. "Only a mage can teach another mage how to control his magic. And I am no mage."

"So I´m gonna die?" Stiles asked glumly.

"No, Stiles, as I repeatedly told you, you won´t die," Deaton told him and Stiles liked to think that it was is ADHD-self that made Deaton´s corner of the mouth twitch. "I have contacted another mage who agreed to teach you control. He should arrive in a few days' time."

"Wait," Derek interrupted. "You just invited a powerful stranger into our territory without our say-so?"

"I can vouch for him," Deaton replied. "His parents and I were friends for a very long time."

"Who´s that other mage?" Stiles wanted know. "What´s his name?"

"Michael James Ross."

"Donna, you goddess of mine," Mike declared towards the unimpressed looking red-head, sitting behind her cubicle. "I have brought offerings." He put the Starbucks cup – of course filled with her favourite coffee – right in front of her, hoping that its aroma would unconsciously make her more agreeable to his demand.

"You have to be really desperate if you hope that the smell of my favourite coffee would make me more sympathetic to your cause," Donna said, completely destroying phase A of his carefully thought out plan. "What do you want?"

"Can you give that to Harvey?" Mike asked with his most desperate puppy eyes, holding out a piece of paper which Donna snapped out of his hand without bothering to look up. He could see her eyes rapidly scanning the pages.

"No," she just said.

"Why?" Mike whined.

"That wasn't the answer to your question," Donna replied. "That´s what Harvey´s gonna say when he reads that."

"It´s just a request for a one week long leave of absence," Mike exclaimed. "I haven't had a free day since I started here four years ago." He paused for a moment. "Besides, I have rights!"

"No, you haven't," came a voice from behind and Mike turned around only to see Harvey walking up to them. "You´re mine until the day you die." And dear God, that statement shouldn't make Mike´s dick twitch in his trousers.

"What are you not man enough to ask me directly?" Harvey continued to inquire when he stood right next to Mike, but his question was directed towards Donna.

"The puppy wants to have one week without leash," Donna answered with a bright smile. Mike squawked indignantly. Goddammit, he would have thought that the two of them would get tired of these puppy analogies after four long years. Apparently, he was wrong.

"Why would you want a one week leave of absence?" Harvey asked. "You never want one."

"Maybe because I have a few things to take care of?" Mike shot back.

"Your social circle only consists of people walking these floors," Harvey replied flippantly. "So if you had things to take care of you wouldn't need a one week leave from the firm."

"An old friend of my parents asked me for help, okay," Mike answered and he could see instant guilt flashing through Harvey´s eyes. The older man always felt bad when he brought up Mike´s parents, maybe because he thought that every mention of them would send Mike into gloomy mood for the rest of the day.

"Where?" Harvey demanded to know.

"What are you, my guardian or what?" Mike exclaimed incredulously.

"Where, Mike?" Harvey repeated, this time more forcefully.

"Beacon Hills, California," Mike replied meekly. There was a moment of silence, then:

"You can have your leave."

"Yeah!" Mike exclaimed and bumped his fist into the air. "Thank you, Harvey." Harvey didn't react, but turned towards Donna instead.

"Cancel all my appointments for the next week," he said. "And book us three tickets to Beacon Hills." Mike´s jaw dropped.

"Wait, wait!" Mike shushed. "You´re not going with me."

"Of course we are," Harvey replied in his 'stop this nonsense this instance'.

"But Harvey," Mike cried out. "You can´t miss a whole week of work because of me!" Harvey couldn't accompany him. He wasn't aware of the supernatural – Donna, Mike wasn't so sure of – and it should stay that way. If Harvey came with him, he would inevitably discover Mike´s biggest secret and he wasn't ready for that. Maybe he would never be.

"Don´t try to be funny, Mike," Harvey said. "It´s not only because of you. Jessica would have sent me there anyway. An old friend of hers with whom she went to Harvard lives in Beacon Hills and she wants me to persuade him to come to work for her."

"Why now?" Donna wanted to know.

"I only know that he was in a coma for few years because of a house fire that killed most of his family," Harvey replied. "But Jessica said that she wants him and I´m her best closer, so…" He shrugged with his shoulders. "Maybe they had something." He turned back to Mike. "So, you see, your request comes exactly at the right time."

Mike just slammed his head against Donna´s cubicle. This, he thought, couldn't get any worse.