AN: Pretty confident this will, at some point in time, end up being multichapter: I'm thinking either taking it from each of Harvey's attempts at seduction, or the view point of other people while they unknowingly watch him fall all over Mike.
Have no idea when an update will be available due to four A-Level exams and a trip to Disneyland Paris!
Hope you enjoy it for what it is right now though!
Pursuit and Seduction
Harvey couldn't concentrate. His computer screen was staring at him, bright and glaring as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised and ready to type. Unfortunately, typing required the presence of his brain – an organ that he was pretty sure had migrated to a more southerly location. He took a deep breath in, steadied himself and closed his eyes. He breathed out again though his nose, counting slowly down from ten. Reaching zero, he gave himself a shake and opened his eyes to an email empty but for the flashing black line that seemed to tease him with letters and words that he couldn't bring himself to type. He only resisted smacking his head despondently off the keyboard by reminding himself that a) his office had glass walls and b) he didn't want to explain to IT why his laptop was fucked. Instead, he opted to sigh and sit back, running a weary hand over his face.
He looked up to lazily survey the world beyond his office, only to find he was being watched. Donna's eyes were just visible, peering above the top of his laptop in the near distance. Slowly, she raised an eyebrow and her disembodied voice floated from the intercom beside him.
"You okay?" he rolled his eyes, hearing the veiled amusement in her otherwise deadpan voice. He waved her away and hunched forward again so her eyes were no longer visible, "You sure?" he ignored her resolutely and finally began to type out his email.
'Mr Bourne,
In regards to-,'
"You've been acting strangely recently," concern crept into her tone and his typing faltered, "What's wrong?" Harvey didn't answer immediately, instead sitting back to consider Donna's eyes and forehead from behind his desk. He resolutely avoided glancing into the bullpen where the reason for his confliction was sat, hunched over a pile of paper work with a pair of earphones in and at least three empty cans of Red Bull strewn across his cluttered work space. He supposed he should count it as a triumph that the ever omniscient Donna had no idea about his current predicament – and it was going to stay that way.
"Nothing's wrong Donna," personally, he thought he sounded perfectly reassuring and sincere, but apparently Donna didn't share his opinion. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"Are you having a midlife crisis?" he balked at the suggestion (though he supposed his problem could be defined in such a way).
"Donna!" he squawked, "No! I'm not! Now do some damn work and leave me alone!" finally, with an irritated huff, she turned away. Free from her scrutiny, Harvey risked a quick glance to where a tuft of blonde hair was visible. He swallowed and ducked behind his laptop, wishing childishly that, being unable to see the world, the world would be unable to see him.
Finally accepting that he would not be getting any work done any time soon, he allowed himself to dwell on the problem that had been distracting him so successfully: Mike. He couldn't contain his self-depreciating sigh at the way his stomach clenched at the thought of the other. He'd been reacting that way for a good few weeks now and he'd only just figured out what would prompt such a response in him – no, that was a lie. He'd a figured it out a long time ago. A better phrasing would be that he'd only just acknowledged what would prompt such a response in him. He wouldn't go so far as to say he had accepted what that was though because that would be an even bigger lie. He didn't think he could accept this. Though he really needed to, otherwise he was pretty sure his head was going to explode and he didn't think Jessica would ever forgive him for splattering his office with brains (it was his office and his brain, he argued with himself pointlessly, he could splatter one with the other whenever he wanted too!). He took a breath, and mentally said the words he'd been avoiding.
He, Harvey Reginald Specter, the best closer in New York, the notorious and very, very heterosexual womaniser, had managed to somehow at some point in time, fall head over heels in love with his very male associate, Michael James Ross. In addition to this, and somehow more confusingly, he very much wanted said male associate in his bed and in a state of complete undress.
The very notion made him want to laugh and cry at the same time, resulting in his breath catching in his throat and a bizarre and slightly hysterical tittering laugh escaping. (Here he gave into his urge to smack his head against his keyboard only to regret it instantly at a sharp stinging pain in his forehead. He knew Donna was watching as he hissed and firmly rubbed his head to try and dispel the pain, but he ignored her.)
How had this happened?!
WHEN!?
He quickly calmed the hysteria that threatened, smoothing down his tie and fidgeting in his seat.
"Are you ok-," he pointedly turned off the intercom, not that it helped overmuch as he still managed to hear Donna shout, "Be that way then!" from her desk. He returned to the conundrum at hand:
He was straight for fucks sake! Had been his entire life! He'd never even been curious about sex with his own gender never mind experimented! On the Kinsey scale, he was a firm zero. Or… or at least he had been? But now, now he wasn't sure where he rated. As much as he loved women (and he still did, that hadn't changed), the fact remained that none had ever unwittingly given him a boner in the middle of a meeting with Jessica (thank God for brief cases) and he'd certainly never threatened to leave his job over one! By his own definition, he called that a 'grand romantic gesture', something he didn't do for just anyone. And it wasn't a mentor thing either – mentors didn't think about doing… those kinds of things with their students (or they shouldn't at any rate). No. What he felt for Mike was deeper than anything he'd ever felt before – strangely that didn't scare him as much as he'd expected it too: after all he'd had much longer to get used to the idea of being strangely and unreasonably attached to Mike. He wasn't so deep in denial he couldn't admit when he was in love. No, what scared him most was the fact that Mike was a guy. He didn't do guys.
He had to steady himself again, balling his hands into tight fists and biting his lip: maybe work hadn't been the best place to have a revelation about his sexuality.
The idea of having sex with a man made him feel strange inside: a mix between awkward discomfort and being thoroughly un-aroused. He was embarrassed to say he'd spent an evening on certain choice websites ascertaining that the only way gay porn did anything for him was if the guy looked like Mike. He definitely was not gay, but that didn't explain his overwhelming desire to strip Mike bare and have his way with him. Dicks didn't appeal to him, but if that dick was attached to Mike somehow that was fine (a twitch in his pants pointed out it was more than fine). He couldn't deny it: he may not do men, but he most certainly did do Mike. Maybe these weren't some latent, repressed homosexual urges that were suddenly making an appearance then? Maybe… maybe he was Mikosexual or something?
Oh God he was too fucking old to be confused about his sexuality. What he needed right now was a roll up and a double scotch. Sadly, Jessica frowned on recreational drug use at the office so he'd have to make do with the scotch. He reluctantly poured himself a glass rather than returning to his desk with the entire bottle.
"Alcohol? At the office?" he startled and spun around, the evidence of his crime clutched in his hand: Jessica arched an amused eyebrow, "It's not even one thirty,"
"You should never place time restraints on good scotch," she shook her head but stepped forwards and reached out for the glass in his hands regardless. He handed it over grudgingly, comforting himself with the knowledge he had another glass; he turned to pour said other glass and instantly regretted giving Jessica his first one – that wasn't nearly enough scotch left to successfully handle his issues. Shit.
He threw the scotch back, not even bothering to taste it and fighting not to pull a face at the feeling of it burning down his throat. Jessica was not nearly as hasty to finish her own glass, and instead sipped it leisurely while she considered Harvey with an expression he couldn't distinguish (confusion? Concern? Annoyance? Probably annoyance). She slid into one of the chairs at his desk, carefully crossing her legs and setting the folder she'd walked in with down and wrapping her hands around her glass. At her indication, he reluctantly sat down in his own seat and waited while she scrutinised him. Had it been any other day than this, he probably would have cared about what she was seeing. Finally she spoke.
"What's wrong?" he bit back the waspish comment on the tip of his tongue (Jessica was his boss and his friend, she had mentored him throughout his career, she was a good woman and most importantly of all, she paid him). He didn't bother to even try and force a smile.
"I'm fine,"
"That's not what Donna says," she retorted almost before he had finished speaking. He sent Donna a dark look (he was unsurprised that she was twisted around in her seat and staring at him) and received a smug smirk for his trouble.
"I am fine," he stressed every word but it made no difference to the look of disbelief on Jessica's face, "Donna isn't actually omniscient you know," he snapped in frustration. Jessica snorted.
"She's as good as, especially when it comes to you. So tell me: what's wrong?"
"I'm fine!"
"Okay, you're fine – but that doesn't mean something isn't wrong," a tentative knocking on his door caused his rebuttal to die on his tongue and Jessica to look round impatiently. Harvey swallowed.
Stood at the threshold of his office, hand raised and fingers curled where he had lightly struck the glass door, Mike's eyes flicked uncertainly between an unimpressed Jessica and a speechless Harvey.
Harvey felt his heart lodge itself firmly in his throat. God, Mike didn't even know it but he was just so fucking beautiful - with his stupid skinny tie and the smudge of something orange (probably the remnants of a pizza) at the corner of his mouth. His shirt sleeves were rolled up it his elbows as usual, exposing his forearms to Harvey's keen gaze – it was the only exposed flesh available to him and he'd take all he could get. He wished he could see what Mike's legs looked like when not beneath fabric but the image of Mike's ass snug in his pants was enough for now.
Mike cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm done with the Monroe briefs and you said you wanted to see me as soon as I had…?" bringing himself back down to earth, Harvey took pity on Mike, knowing he was not particularly comfortable around Jessica.
"Yes, right. Go and get us both a coffee then come back and we'll go over the briefs," Mike disappeared with a tight smile and Harvey resisted staring at the way his ass practically rolled as he strode away.
Grudgingly, he refocused his attention on the equally beautiful, but substantially less appealing (though everyone other than Mike seemed to be ruined for him now anyway) Jessica. She seemed confused.
"This has something to do with Mike…" she said slowly, "What has he done?" he cringed at her dark tone.
"Mike hasn't done anything," he assured her (unless you counted existing).
"And yet the current stick up your ass is related to him," he winced at her strangely appropriate wording. He knew that, had Mike been a woman or had he been gay (he was wary to admit that he must be at least a little bit), this would be where Jessica correctly (and smugly) guessed the truth of the matter. However, since Mike was a man and he was ridiculously straight (apparently) she remained in metaphorical darkness.
She waited for him to either give confirmation or begin a futile denial. He didn't feel like pandering to her expectations.
"Did you want me for something more than a social call?" she frowned, eyes flashing warningly.
"Don't get cute with me Harvey Specter," she tapped her finger on top of the folder she'd placed on his desk, "David Forde wants to sue us," slowly, Harvey pulled the folder into his hands.
"He wants to sue us?" he said slowly, "But we're his lawyers? So… he wants us to sue… us?" Jessica snorted.
"That's how it looks – he never was the sharpest tool in the box. He'll realise his mistake before the day is out no doubt," smoothly, she stood, "His grievance is baseless but I want you up to speed on it anyway," she sauntered from his office, not even bothering to leave a word of farewell or a glance back. She paused to say something to Donna. He had a sneaking suspicion that this conversation wasn't over yet.
He snapped his laptop shut in favour of lazily leafing through the brief that had been prepared for him. He didn't look up or acknowledge her presence when Donna ventured into his office. His eyes flicked to the side when her hand slowly loomed into sight. She lingered, before very pointedly turning his intercom back on. He looked up in time to see Mike cast a small smile her way when she slid back into her seat.
His smile widened when he spotted Harvey, dimples in his cheeks. He carefully negotiated the slowly closing door, nudging it closed behind him as he precariously balanced the paper work he had brought to Harvey on top of two coffee cups. His smile turned apologetic.
"Sorry for interrupting earlier," Harvey found his gaze inexplicably drawn to the others crotch when he leant forward to place one coffee and a copy of the paper work in front of Harvey. His mouth went dry.
"It's fine," he reassured, tearing his gaze back to Mike's face, "What did you find any way?"
Mike's smile turned smug.
"A puppy and a new bike!" Harvey blinked in confusion.
"You found a puppy and a new bike?" still gleeful, Mike shook his head.
"No, that's what I want for being so God like!" Harvey couldn't help but return the smile, warmth settling in his chest, "Page two, paragraph three!" shaking his head fondly, Harvey turned to the appropriate page and began to read.
Mike was practically bouncing in his seat as he waited for Harvey to finish: God he was in love with a child – he had to admit though, this was good work. Setting the paper down, he sighed.
"Well, there's no chance in hell I'd subject something as helpless and generally adorable as a puppy to your 'care' – you can barely take care of yourself! But the bike? The bike I can do," Mike grinned and practically crowed his delight, moving to take a gulp of coffee. His eyes widened and then narrowed in pain, "You okay?" Harvey asked in concern, eyeing the tears building up in Mike's eyes. He nodded before very deliberately swallowing with a wince.
"Hot," he explained. Harvey shook his head in disbelief.
"You're such an idiot," surprisingly, Mike nodded in frank agreement.
"And you hired me – what does that make you?"
"Hmm, touché," Harvey took a much more careful sip of coffee.
"Since I'm not getting my puppy, I think I deserve compensation for my efforts," Harvey raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of compensa- Oh what is it with you and fist bumps!" he threw his arms up in exasperation at the fist that was present expectantly to him. Mike gave no response and instead waited patiently. Harvey considered leaving him disappointed but ultimately, found himself incapable of doing so and so indulged Mike in one of his many idiosyncrasies.
Mike gave a whoop of jubilation when their fists met.
"You love it and you know it," he accused. Harvey couldn't find a denial within himself – he did love it. He loved Mike. The thought inspired a stabbing pain in his stomach – he loved Mike, and he didn't think he would ever be brave enough to say it.
His smiled was tight when he waved Mike away.
"Yeah whatever, get lost and do some work or something – that's what I pay you for!" having apparently not noticed the odd edge in Harvey's voice, Mike pushed himself to his feet with an amused shake of his head.
"You don't pay me – Pearson Hardman does!" with that last remark and a cheery wave, he was out of the office and away.
The new silence in his office was deafening.
He didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted Mike - that was something he couldn't deny and didn't want to deny. But the fact remained that if he didn't grow a pair of balls and do something about it, then he'd be stuck with this 'unrequited love' schtick and that was the last thing he wanted. There was another pressing issue though: loving Mike and doing something about it was all well and good, but if Mike didn't want him in return, then it was all for naught!
Suddenly, a plan formed in his head.
A way to express his own affection carefully and asses Mike for his receptiveness to his advance. It was simple really (hopefully)! If it didn't work, he could pretend it was just a misunderstanding and they could move on (well, Mike could, he didn't know if his own feelings could be as easily discarded) and if it did work? Well! That was the point of the venture.
And thus, operation 'Seduce Michael Ross' was born. He was Harvey Specter – he could definitely do this!
Maybe.