Harvey sleeps like a child. All loose limbed and pillow lines across his face, hair sticking up in tufts and fingers loosely wrapped around any part of Mike he can find. It's serendipitous that Mike sleeps the same way, generally plastered all over Harvey's body like a Mike shaped blanket, or with his feet on the pillow and his head where his feet should be and Harvey's hand wrapped around his ankle. Sometimes Mike wakes up and has to laugh at the positions they find themselves in during the night. When Harvey wakes, for about thirty seconds he looks like a little boy, fists rubbing at his eyes as he stretches out his legs and wriggles his toes and then sits, looks bleary eyed at Mike and his face generally breaks into a smile, however small or brief, before he's stumbling into the bathroom for a shower.
Harvey likes sleepy morning sex, forehead pressed to Mike's as he pushes in, fingers curled together above Mike's head and he whispers "I love you" against Mike's mouth just before he comes.
Mike likes the times they argue, all pent up anger and emotion and Harvey snaps and fucks him practically through the wall, the mattress, the kitchen counter, his desk, whatever hard surface is nearest, his fingers leaving bruises on Mike's skin and his kisses harsh and punishing.
Harvey likes wearing suits, slicking his hair back, looking every bit the immaculate Top Closer of New York city that he is. Mike likes to wait until they are back through the door of Harvey's apartment before running his hands up Harvey's chest, ruffling that immaculate persona, winding the tie around his hands and dragging Harvey to the bedroom.
There are times when there's no work to do, when the phone isn't ringing and the emails aren't coming through, and there's nothing to do except be. Time when Harvey's hair is a mess, soft under Mike's hands with no gel, nothing holding it down and it surprised Mike the first time he saw it that it would have a slight wave to it that would make it unruly. Time when Harvey wears old track pants and even older henleys, the cotton soft against Mike's cheek as he settles on top of Harvey, pushes his cold toes into Harvey's socks and curls his hand around Harvey's hip. Harvey grunts and sighs, but there's no malice in it, and he holds Mike closer and drops a kiss to the top of his head.
Mike cooks, he likes it. Harvey, it's no surprise, is useless in the kitchen, apart from he cooks steak better than anyone Mike has ever met. But Mike cooks mostly, enjoying the way Harvey watches over his shoulder, presses kisses to Mike's neck and sometimes Mike will take Harvey's hands in his and show him how to flip a pancake, or beat an egg, or mix salad dressing. More often than not Harvey will uncurl their hands and push his into Mike's pants and whisper filthy things in his ear instead.
He still treats Mike like a child sometimes, until Mike reminds him that he didn't fuck him like a child the previous night and Harvey gets that dark look in his eyes, the one that Mike knows means he's remembering exactly what they did that night.
The first time they argue, they argue so badly that Mike leaves, hastily packs a bag and is out of the door, slamming it behind him before Harvey can throw another insult at him. Mike can't even remember what started it, and can only assume it was lack of sleep, and them knowing each other well enough to know where to push until it hurt. Mike doesn't know what to go, what to do, his whole life is tied up with Harvey now that being without him, even for a short while, makes him feel helpless and panicked. He ends up at Jenny's, knocking on the door and she takes one look at him, hauls him into a hug and feeds him vodka and ice cream until he passes out on her couch with sticky hands and a bleary head. She sends him back the next day, after fixing him a greasy breakfast and shoving two Tylenol down his throat, sends him back to Harvey to fix this because she can see how much Mike loves him. He kisses her and she fondly smacks his arm and tells him to get out of her life. He can hear Harvey's anger before he even opens the door, the muttered curse and the tinkle of smashed china and Mike pushes the door open to find Harvey staring helplessly down at a pile of broken mugs. He looks up at Mike and stares at him like he doesn't quite believe Mike's actually there. But then Harvey's stalking over to him, and Mike's got his back against the now closed door and Harvey's thigh between his own and Harvey's hands in his hair, don't leave again, is muttered against Mike's lip and Mike kisses him back.
Mike is well aware he is well and truly, helplessly, head over heels in love with Harvey, he's accepted that fact. He was pretty much lost the first time Harvey smiled at him, those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes making him look softer somehow. He's also well aware that they shouldn't work. Harvey's his boss after all. Not that Harvey would ever let him forget that, especially not in the office where he still rides him hard and treats him like the idiot Associate Mike sometimes thinks that he still is. But work they do. They fit. Mike smoothes out Harvey's sharp edges, brings chaos to Harvey's ordered life and Harvey can only just smile. Harvey brings tidiness and clean sharp lines to Mike's disarray and Mike kisses Harvey as often as he can for it. They argue, they make up and fuck, they fall asleep tangled around each other. They wake up to morning sex and breakfast and slow showers and hurried dressing for work and Mike loves ever second of it.
And if the way Harvey kisses him before the office elevator doors open, and whispers "try not to fuck up today", is anything to go by, he does too.
