Summary: It wasn't what Harvey said that made Mike change his mind. It was what he did. Tag to "Blind Sided". WARNING: Spanking of an adult.
Because next time I have the option to cross the line to save you, I'll send you packing and not think twice! Now get your shit together!
Mike stood in Harvey's office, stunned. Harvey had threatened to fire him before, but never with the same level of rage he had just demonstrated. But still, Mike was convinced he was right. And besides, he was still grieving.
Mike left his boss' office a few minutes later, walking slowly toward the elevators. He spotted Rachel across the way and debated for a moment whether he should go talk to her. But since he couldn't think of anything helpful to say, he turned and walked toward the elevator bank.
The last thing Mike needed to see at that moment was a still-angry Harvey. Yet, when the doors slid open, there he stood, as if he had been waiting for him.
"Let's go," he ordered.
Mike shook himself out of his stupor. "Go where?"
The only answer Mike received was Harvey brushing past him, into the elevator.
"Harvey…" The raised hand stopped him short. The doors slid open again a few seconds later and he followed Harvey in silence through the parking garage under the building.
Ten minutes later, the pair left the car with the Valet outside Harvey's building. A thick silence hung in the elevator air as it made its way to the Penthouse. Harvey unlocked the door and stood aside, waiving Mike inside with a small jerk of his head. Mike hesitated a moment, then obeyed the unspoken order, a million questions zooming around in his head.
Harvey pointed at the couch and Mike sat, his messenger bag still slung across his chest. For his part, Harvey walked purposefully to the kitchen, removing his jacket along the way, and started rooting around in a drawer. A few moments later, he perched on the coffee table in front of Mike. Mike stared at the object in Harvey's hand, a mixture of curiosity and fear flashing alternately across his face.
"What's that for?" he asked, willing his voice to steady and his suddenly sweaty hands to dry.
"We need to talk."
Mike swallowed hard, and slipped the bag from around his neck. "I thought we already did that when you yelled at me in your office. Twice."
"Twice," Harvey almost spat out. "I'm pretty sure that was the tenth time I've had to yell at you in my office." He took a deep breath and looked down at the object in his hand for a moment. When he looked up again, he had softened a bit. "I'm done talking, Mike. So, either I fire your ass, or I paddle it. Your choice."
"Why do you even have that?" Mike asked, gesturing toward the weapon his boss held.
Harvey grinned, recognizing the stall. "It's a clay paddle. My great aunt thought I needed a hobby, so she gave me a clay-working set for Christmas one year. I have a wheel down in storage should the mood ever strike me to throw a pot," he shrugged. Sobering, he continued, "What's it going to be Mike? Because I meant what I said. I'm done dealing with your attitude, with your screw-ups and with your crappy decisions."
Mike opened his mouth to protest, but the look on the older man's face made him clamp it shut again. After a moment, he got himself under control. "Look, Harvey, I'm sorry. It's just, I've got a lot going on."
"Yeah, you do, and if this was a one-time thing, I'd let it go. But it's not, and you always have some excuse, and I'm done listening to them."
Mike sighed, burying his face in his hands. The two sat quietly for a long time, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.
Harvey finally broke the silence. "Mike," he said, almost gently, "let's just do this so we can move on. You know I don't want to fire you."
When Mike finally looked up, he had tears in his eyes. "Ok," he whispered. "You're right." He took a deep breath. "I'm out of control. I'm making stupid decisions, I've screwed up with Rachel…" Mike shook his head.
"And me," Harvey added pointedly.
"And you." Mike agreed. "But you can't really be serious about…that," he said, gesturing toward the paddle. Harvey cocked his head to the side and Mike relented. "I really am sorry," he offered.
"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Harvey shot back, pushing himself off the coffee table. "Over here," he ordered, walking to the table in the middle of the dining area.
Mike looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, suddenly reconsidering. "On second thought…"
"Uh uh."
"But can't we do this somewhere more…private?" Mike begged.
"The glass is one-way. Now get over here. And lose the pants," Harvey stated, leaving no room for protest.
After another brief moment of hesitation, Mike shrugged off his jacket and walked slowly to the table. He stared at Harvey for a long moment, silently praying he would relent, if only of the last order.
Harvey tapped the paddle against his leg impatiently, and Mike finally turned around, faced the table and slowly lowered his dress slacks. "Shorts too."
"Harvey, no!" Mike pleaded, turning around.
"Mike, I never want to have to have this conversation with you again," Harvey said, gesturing with the paddle. "I want to make sure this particular lesson gets through, and I can't think of a better way to ensure that it does. Now lose the pants, and the shorts, or I'll do it for you and we can do this over my lap instead of the table."
That did the trick. With one last glare at Harvey, Mike turned around again and within seconds had his pants and shorts around his ankles and his hands on the table.
"Elbows." When the order had been obeyed, Harvey rolled up his right sleeve and placed his left hand on Mike's back.
The paddle fell without a warning and Mike hissed. Harvey felt him start to stand up and increased the pressure on his back. He brought the paddle down again, and he felt Mike shift to the right. "Stay in position," he ordered. "I don't want to miss and end up hurting you."
"But you are hurting me!" Mike protested.
The paddle fell hard at the top of Mike's right thigh. "You know what I mean. Don't make me add spanks by disobeying me."
Mike gritted his teeth and determined to hold as still as humanly possible. There was no way he wanted this going any longer than absolutely necessary. But as Harvey settled into a rhythm, Mike began to wonder if he had any intention of stopping.
As the count passed fifty, Mike's whimpers became more desperate. While Harvey had never done this before, he clearly remembered being on the other side the last time his father thought he needed a good hiding, and he remembered exactly the point at which his father had stopped. Mike had not surrendered to Harvey's authority yet, so the spanking continued. Another fifty, and Harvey had to admit he had underestimated how stubborn his associate really was. He was just about to give up when he heard it. A sob escaped Mike's lips on number 103, and Harvey felt the tension leave Mike's back. Finally.
Harvey delivered seven more to the lowest part of Mike's backside, and stopped. He placed the paddle on the table and took a step back. Mike had buried his face in his arms and was crying openly. No doubt his backside was burning, but Harvey recognized the sound of repentant tears. It was over.
"You ok?" Harvey asked as Mike emerged from the bathroom.
"Yeah, I'm good," he replied. Harvey studied him for a moment. Mike bit his lip, then, "Really, I'm ok. We're ok," he added quietly.
"Good, then get out," Harvey answered, visibly relaxing. The look on Mike's face made him laugh. "You need to go talk to Liam, and I have plans."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Mike grinned. He gathered his jacket and bag, and headed to the door, limping just slightly as the fabric of his slacks brushed against his assuredly sore, hot skin.
"Mike," Harvey called after him, "never again. Got it?"
Mike nodded and smiled just slightly. "Got it."