"I mean we're still friends..." His smile was sweet, guarded yet vulnerable; his eyes expressive in a way that he usually didn't allow himself. But he couldn't help it; not this time anyway.

"I'm getting married." He froze. What? "His name is Steve. He proposed to me last month, and when I get back I'm going to tell him yes."

Time stopped moving. Everything stopped. The world turned dark around him and all he could see was the woman in front of him, though she seemed very far away.

"Goodbye, Harvey." She said, pulling herself up from the barstool.

As she went to pass him, he stood up and grabbed her arm, gentle, warm; not restraining, asking. "Come here..." He whispered, and pulled her into his chest as she cowered against him, trying to hide from the fear and hurt that tormented her. She breathed him in one last time. Felt him against her one last time. Clung to him one last time; and then she pulled away. She left without looking back.

The scene played over and over again in Harvey's head, despite the amount of alcohol he'd thrown back in the past forty minutes that he'd been back in his apartment. He'd gone through three beers, and two full glasses of scotch – in an absurd order. It didn't help, he couldn't escape the image of her eyes; the ones that looked so betrayed, so helpless, so at risk of shedding the moisture that she tried to keep hidden. He just couldn't make it go away.

It was his fault, you know. Everything always was. He gulped back another swig from a fresh beer bottle; hoping the mixture of hard and soft drinks would numb his brain for a while. Or if it wouldn't, at least he could be unconscious for it. And wasn't this what he always did? Pushed people away, and then cursed the bottom of empty bottles. It wasn't the first time, and it sure as hell wouldn't be his last. He knew that. He'd always known that. His mother had ruined it all for him. But still, he knew she wasn't completely to blame. He hadn't exactly put forth an effort to make anything work, he just ran away before it could go downhill. Well... not run per say... No, he wouldn't call it that – although others might. He merely gave them the push they needed to walk away themselves; just like he had tonight, when he'd told Dana Scott that they were friends. He laughed at himself, laughed against the word that mocked him endlessly throughout his life. Friends. He and Dana were not friends. They never really had been. She was so much more than that and it scared him. Or maybe that was just an excuse. Whatever it was, he threw the thought away like yesterdays trash.

He wasn't sure, but there might have just been a knock on the door. Or maybe it was just his head pounding away, the approaching hangover waiting until he finally drifted off to sleep. The knocks continued, louder and louder until he was tugging at his hair, mentally telling off that damned nuisance in his head. He just wanted a little peace!

"Harvey, open up."

Now the alcohol sounds like Mike. How pleasant.

The knocking grew quieter until it was a dull throb, and Harvey wonders again if there was someone at the door... Might as well check.

Standing up – and stumbling back slightly – the man moves towards the door, disoriented by a buzzing in his head which is no doubt an effect from the abuse of alcohol he'd fallen into that night. Harvey looks like hell. His tie is gone, thrown pointlessly again a wall, and his shirt is wrinkled and half undone. His hair is a mess from the constant gripping and groping, and he's flushed to his eyes from the booze. With just as much grace as he walked, he grabbed the door open, rocking back on his heels in happy surprise.

"Mike!" He mewls, letting the name roll off his tongue fluidly.

"Harvey, listen..." Mike muttered, not making eye contact. "I just, I wanted to..." He stopped trying to get out the words when he heard Harvey give an obscene giggle. "What's so funny?" He finally met eye contact, and then it hit him. "You're drunk."

"You're not?" He asked, incredulous as if he'd expected everyone in the world to be poisoning their livers on this oh so magical night.

"No, I'm not." He looked confused, glancing over his boss' shoulder into the apartment, seeing a mess of what looked like the aftermath of a huge temper tantrum.

"After that mock trial today, you should be." He laughed again. "Come in?" Strange, Harvey Specter usually demanded things, not asked for them; and yet here he was, standing back and gesturing into the room, waiting for his associate's response.

"I..." He watched the man, sure that there was a catch, a joke, some kind of play involved. "Sure..."

Harvey smiled as he shut the door, following the younger man over to the couch. "Make yourself at home!" He drawled, pulling out a couple more beers. "Drink?"

Hesitantly, Mike took it, popping the cap and waiting until Harvey continued his streak of alcoholism before taking a wary sip of his own.

"Let's watch a movie," he said, getting up from his spot on the other side of the couch. In seconds, as if done by muscle memory, Rocky was on.

The two sat, quoting along with the movie, pushing each other around, and becoming more and more drunk as time went on. At some point, Harvey had managed to sit right next to Mike, having used grabbing another drink as an excuse to lose his seat. He now sat with his arm on the back of the couch behind his ever more intoxicated friend. Friend? He hadn't used that word to describe him before. But he supposed it was true. Mike was completely loyal, trusting, and devoted to Harvey, and not that he'd ever admit it to himself soberly, but he felt a lot of the same fondness in return. Yes, it seemed, that somewhere in the past months that he'd let the young annoyance spend time with him, he'd grown attached. Attached like they seemed to be right now...

Mike was leaning into him, resting his alcohol ridden body against the other man's side, limply holding a half finished bottle in his hand. Harvey hadn't realized that he was staring, but was suddenly shocked back into reality when Mike let out a loud "Adrian!" and threw himself backward into the couch.

Groaning, Harvey slumped himself down onto the couch – not the way one with a rationally working mind would do though, no, he slumped himself to be sprawled right across Mike's legs. Head on the arm of the couch, feet on the other side, and shoulder pressed into Mike's torso, Harvey stared up at the man, an amused expression crinkling his eyes at the corners.

Mike didn't seem to think that anything was out of the ordinary. In fact, in his inebriated state, it seemed to be a completely regular action that could take place between the two of them.

The horizontal man chuckled again, tugging at Mike's shoulder to right himself. "I'm wasted." He laughed again, harder now as he half fell back down when Mike teetered forward, not expecting the sudden weight.

They both became very aware of the compromising situation at the same time. Harvey picked himself up, and Mike cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.

"So why are you drinking anyways?" He asked, taking another swig.

"Can't two guys drink together on a Thursday night?"

"Sure, except that you were drinking long before I got here."

Harvey smiled, leaning back over without thinking, tapping his head against Mike's. "Right, I forgot."

"I'm sorry I lost that mock trial." The associate finally confessed, staring blindly at the rolling credits. Time seemed to fly with Harvey, although he knew it wasn't something to get used to. "I know it made you look bad."

Harvey shook his head, sliding to close the space between them as he wormed his arm back to where it was before, and rested his forehead against a thin shoulder. "No, I'm sorry. You're right. It was just a dumb mock trial and it wasn't worth hurting the girl you like." There was something in his voice that kept Mike quietly calculating beside him. Harvey felt the weight of Mike's head leaning against his own, for some reason granting him the courage to continue his out of character admission. "Don't let petty things ruin your relationships." He pulled himself away briefly, to kiss Mike on the temple and then return to nuzzling himself into the crook of Mike's neck.

The man that held the action hadn't really noticed he'd done it, but the man who'd somehow warranted it alert to what had just happened. Man, Harvey really couldn't hold his alcohol. "You're a depressing drunk."

The man laughed again, wholeheartedly, realizing what had lead to the statement. Mischievous in his condition of being – at this point – completely smashed out of his mind, he leaned up and kissed him again, open mouth and on the cheek.

The blond turned to look at him, some unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. It didn't stop Harvey's games though, and he did it again, closer to his mouth this time. His next attempt was intersected. Mike turned his head so that Harvey's lips would land right upon his own. Stunned, he didn't move for a second. The quick motion had made his head spin – or was it the kiss? It didn't matter though, because suddenly he was kissing again, and suddenly, so was Mike.

They didn't realize when it happened, but they realized when it stopped, because the men flung themselves apart, wide eyed and flushed.

"I'm going to put on another movie." Harvey gritted through his teeth, getting up to put in the next movie in the series, and then sitting himself on a chair what was completely unattached from the couch and from temptation. Mike didn't seem to mind this one bit.

In silence, they began the movie. As time passed, and the climax grew closer, they began quoting again. At first hesitantly, and then progressively more and more fervent until they were standing up enacting the big fight scene as it was happening on the screen. But alas, they had drunk a lot more than the careful choreography on the screen could have appreciated. The actors moved flawlessly, dodging and missing and hitting and getting hit – and Harvey and Mike were tumbling to the floor.

Mike thudded his head on the ground, and Harvey landed with a crash on top of him. They both burst out into huge bouts of gasping laughter, unable to right themselves. He was trying to untangle himself from the pesky situation when Harvey noticed something that he wouldn't have expected in a million years. Looking down, and then at Mike's face with a blank expression, Mike quickly figured it out. Blushing, he muttered, "Oh, I – I'm sorry, I just – beer and scotch and-"

And Harvey was smirking again. Slowly he rolled his hips, eliciting a groan from the man beneath him. "The beer my ass." He said, rolling his hips again, earning another moan. Grinning, he leaned down and captured Mike's mouth with his again, fingers reaching up to play with the messy blond hair. Mike bucked against him, wrapping his arms securely around the lawyers back, hands squeezing his shoulders.

It wasn't until they were both naked, sweaty, and rolling off of each other that a new knock at the door separated them.

"Damn it..." Harvey muttered, pulling on the nearest pair of sweats and a black button up top off the top of the hamper. "Stay here." He commanded over his shoulder, buttoning the shirt on the way to answer the door. "Jessica," he exclaimed, surprise twitching at his carefully composed expression.

"How did the case go?" She asked stepping around him into the apartment.

"Great, they merged; this really isn't a good time."

"Why, you got a girl here?"

He didn't break a beat. "Yes."

"Is it Scotty?" She whispered, amused.

"No."

Her face fell slightly before returning to its full force of teasing. "She'd better not make you late in the morning." She winked, turning to leave. "Oh, and if you come in hung over, Harvey, I swear to God." She winked as the front door clicked to a close.

Harvey let out a breath, running his hand down his face.

He returned to the bedroom, finding that Mike had begun to pull on his suit pants in his absence. His shirt was already on and sloppily buttoned.

"Uh," Harvey started, showing off an irritated look. "No." He stepped forward, pushing Mike's hands away, causing the expensive material to fall lamely to the floor, before pushing him back onto the bed.

"Harvey, I-" He couldn't speak, lips were smashed against his once more, and his restraint was futile – mostly because it hardly existed. It was a matter of seconds before he had his hands roaming beneath the shirt that he was growing to hate, and his nails were leaving red lines across tingling skin. "What are we doing?" He murmured through the kiss, not willing to break the contact for a second.

"We'll figure that out in the morning." Came the response, and he was fine with that.