so, a few weeks ago I was innocently listening to world cup songs and getting in the mood to obsess over football when I was attacked by a demon who put this idea in my head and wouldn't leave me alone 'till I promised I would make a fic out of it. you know who you are.

incase you haven't guessed it yet, this is a story about the suits gang watching the world cup, getting way too invested in it and being a poor example to any other living soul out there. also, harvey and donna are stubborn, blind and stupid, and maybe being overly competitive with each other will force them to admit some things they don't want to admit.

just fyi: in this perfect world, jessica, rachel and mike never left the firm, jessica is still managing partner & made donna COO, the zane merger didn't happen, harvey is in his old office and donna has the office next door. everything else happened according to the suits timeline, so we're pre season 8 here.

the chapters won't be nearly as long as what you're used to from 120 years, so this fic should be wrapped up after ca. 20k words and 4-5 chapters.

finally, I'd really advise you to (re-)watch the suits webisode: football rules before reading because it's essentially the thing that starts the plot right at the beginning. also, it's hilarious and you will die laughing.

have fun reading xx

P.

"Football, bloody hell." – Alex Ferguson

#1: Group Of Death

.

It all started with Louis.

That's what Harvey and Mike would insist on the second it was all over; the second these four weeks smoothly went from one of their most intense events to an incredible set of fond memories they would think back on for the rest of their lives.

Four weeks that changed so much, and yet they only brought out what had been there all along.

Louis was the one to go overboard and learn every single football rule there was, only to be laughed out of the room when he realised their new, huge client was British, and had been talking about soccer all along.

Like Mike said, this was all just fun for Harvey, a way for him to pass the time and fight boredom, but it became slightly less funny when he had to face the grave consequences. Louis stormed into his office the second he got out of the meeting, near tears and so angry he was shaking.

"Taylor Jones is British", he yelled.

"Didn't you know that?", Harvey asked innocently, glancing over at Mike who was spread out over the armchair like a lazy cat.

"Don't give me that shit, Harvey, you know damn well I just blew my first meeting with him because I kept talking about American football."

Harvey frowned. "Hang on, are you telling me you screwed up our negotiations because of that? The deal was airtight."

Mike sat up on the chair, all humour in his eyes gone.

"Well, he didn't exactly find it funny that I kept going on and on about a sport he had no interest in, let alone me asking him if England even has a proper team since I had never heard of it."

Harvey closed his eyes. "Are you telling me he pulled out?"

"He stormed out, but not without warning me about the displeased phone call Jessica will get."

"Shit", Harvey groaned. "Goddamn Brits."

"This is all your fault! You didn't even show up for the meeting, too busy twiddling your thumbs and laughing at me instead of thinking of what damage your childish pranks might cause this firm."

"Alright calm down, Louis. We couldn't have known he'd be that insulted just because you didn't know the difference between our football and theirs."

"We could've, actually", Mike threw in. "Have you ever met a Brit? Or any European for that matter? They go nuts over soccer there, it's the one sport that matters."

"Well, then it's not our fault they've decided to go nuts over such a shitty sport."

"You're only saying that because you know nothing about football", Donna interjected, joining the three men in Harvey's office with quick steps. She met his tense eyes. "Incoming."

Harvey cursed. "Jessica's on her way", he explained to Mike and Louis.

"How in the world did you blow this deal, Louis?", Donna asked without any accusation. "It was basically already through."

"Yeah it was, until dumb and dumber dicked me over for their amusement."

Before Donna could do more than throw Harvey and Mike a disapproving glare, Jessica strolled around the corner, approaching the group with long steps.

"Uh-oh", Mike muttered. "She looks pissed."

Louis swallowed. "Rightfully so. She spent months setting up this deal and I tore it up in five minutes. It's my fault."

Harvey stepped next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Louis. This is our fault."

So, they faced Jessica's wrath together. The three of them lined up in front of Harvey's desk, like bold children being scolded by their mother, and still, despite the situation they've got themselves into, Louis was oddly proud that they were sticking together in this moment.

Finally, Jessica let out a long, annoyed sigh. "I somehow managed to convince Jones to give us, or more accurately speaking me, another chance. I set up a meeting in four weeks."

"Four weeks?! The hell is he going in the meantime?"

"Russia."

"Russia?", Louis and Harvey asked simultaneously.

Mike's eyes widened, a sudden idea starting to form in his head. He looked to the side and saw Donna glancing back at him, her expression mirroring his. Apparently, she'd just had a similar thought.

"For the world cup", Jessica replied with annoyance.

"There's a world cup this year?"

"Oh my god." Donna couldn't help but groan. Harvey really didn't know a thing about football.

"Yes, there is. And Jones is going. So we better goddamn hope England will do well— "

(Mike snorted derisively, quickly turning it into a cough when he saw Jessica's face.)

"—Or so help me god, if we lose this client because you three can't get your shit together, you'll all be working pro bono's for the next year."

Harvey let out a strangled noise.

"You have a month to come up with a strategy to convince him to sign with us after all. So it better be a good one."

"Actually..." Mike shot Donna a grin which she answered with a smile just as wide. "I think we already have one."

.

Mike and Donna set their emergency meeting, as they called it, for the evening. They all met in the big conference room, suspiciously eyeing Mike greeting them with fire in his eyes, a grin plastered on his face, three tablets, two laptops and – god forbid – a flipping chart next to him.

His and Donna's idea to watch the world cup this year and learn everything they could about soccer – or football as Donna kept correcting him – to impress the shit out of Taylor Jones when he came back from Russia wasn't met with any excitement or approval. The atmosphere changed immediately when Mike played his next card: they should bet on a winner.

Fast as lightning, Harvey's eyes snapped up to meet Jessica's, and they each grabbed a device to start researching which team they would go for. Donna's proposal to just bet on whether or not England would win was dismissed by a grunt from Louis, who already had Nigel on the phone and demanded to be given a crash curse on the rules of football over the next few minutes.

"We should've seen this coming", Donna sighed, already writing down their names on the flip chart. They would also need an official sheet for their bets and everyone would have to agree to certain terms before proceeding; she was surrounded by five lawyers after all.

The fight over who would support which team properly broke out after Jessica, having delved into the topic silently for 15 minutes with what Mike could only call dangerous precision, officially named Mexico as her team. Donna was about to write it down, but Mike pulled the pen out of her hand.

"Nope, you can't do that", he fired in Jessica's direction.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm betting on Germany and we're in the same group, so I refuse to have you as my main enemy for the first two weeks."

"There are groups?", Louis cut in confused, his phone still in hand. Nigel had hung up on him over five minutes ago.

"I don't care who you're betting on kid, I'm going with Mexico."

"Bold choice", Harvey said.

"What can I say, I have a thing for underdogs", she gave back.

"I want to bet on Greece", Rachel exclaimed out of nowhere.

"They didn't qualify."

"Oh." Rachel's face fell at Donna's words. "That's too bad. They won back when I was on Crete for my vacation."

"They didn't win the World Cup", Mike corrected her, automatically going through the statistics he had memorised in his brain. "They won the European Championship in 2004."

Rachel dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Whatever, I have nothing but good memories about that summer."

Mike squinted his eyes. "Why?"

Donna gasped. "OH, that's when you met Darius."

Rachel's cheeks turned pink.

"Who's Darius?"

"Rachel lost her virginity to him", Louis mumbled like it was nothing. "Anyway, can we move on? I'm going to bet on Russia."

"You had your first time on Crete and that's why you want to bet on the Greek team?" Mike almost stumbled over words. "Is this Darius douchebag playing for them or what?"

"Why would you bet on Russia, they suck!", Harvey argued, ignoring Mike as his eyes were fixed on Louis.

"Sheila bought him a Russian cat a week ago", Donna explained.

"Calm down Mike, it's just a fond memory", came Rachel's defensive voice from the other side of the table, where she was facing her husband with arms crossed in front of her chest.

"You're betting on Russia because of a cat?", Harvey half-jeered, half-yelled. He breathed in to say more, but then his irritation just deflated and became resignation. He rubbed his forehead. "Of course you are."

"It's a Neva Masquerade", Louis countered enraged.

"Is that the cat's name?!"

"Why does Louis know when and where you lost your virginity and I don't?", Mike snapped. "Are you still in contact with him?"

"If you don't pipe down on the obsessive jealousy right now, I will contact him."

"Guys", Jessica cut in, barely raising her voice above the usual volume. "That's enough."

Silence spread through the room.

"Now, I think the idea itself is brilliant, but if you're gonna behave like children I'm pulling the plug on this operation right away, understood?"

Nobody moved.

"Excellent. Now, Donna is going to be in charge of the rules since she obviously knows the most about soccer."

"Hey", Mike complained half-heartedly.

"My mum is Irish", Donna fired back. "Trust me, I know football."

Mike raised his brows. "Then why are you writing down Brazil as your team?"

"Because Ireland didn't qualify, and Brazil is going to win the world cup this year."

Harvey gave her an intrigued smile. "Are they now?"

She levelled his stare. "Yes. They are."

Not breaking eye contact, Harvey said, "I'm betting on Spain."

"I knew it."

"No you didn't", he scoffed.

"I did. It was either Spain or Argentina, but you went the safe route with Spain."

Harvey shrugged. "Nothing wrong with betting on the team that has won the most trophies over the last ten years."

"Like I said: safe choice", Donna provoked him further, a knowing smile on her face. She ignored his stammering protests, writing down Spain next to his name and putting down Germany next to Mike's.

"I'm going with Portugal", Rachel grinned, looking at Mike like she was daring him to say something, which he did. Of course he did.

"Why?", he asked with a wince, like he knew the answer already and didn't want to hear it.

"Ronaldo is hot", she said with an innocent smile. "I'm sorry, is that making you uncomfortable?"

"Yeah, you deserve that one", Harvey smirked.

"Shut up, Harvey."

"Moving on", Jessica insisted. "Now that everyone has their teams, and Donna is going to set up a few rules, I suggest Louis will be in charge of the bets. He's our financial wizard after all and he'll keep some people – ", her eyes narrowed down on Mike, "—from cheating."

"I love how you are all ganging up on me even though this whole thing was my idea", Mike commented sarcastically.

"So, everything is settled then", the managing partner went on.

"Wait. One more thing." All eyes in the room settled on Mike. "We're not just gonna bet on money, right? That's boring. What else could we be betting on?"

The silence lasted exactly three seconds.

Then, the next fight broke out.

"Wrong question, kiddo", Donna groaned through the growing voices, flipping her chart and writing "BETS" in capital letters on top of it. "Wrong question."

.

OPERATION "IMPRESS THE SHIT OUT OF TAYLOR JONES" — THE TEAMS:

Jessica: Mexico

Louis: Russia

Donna: Brazil

Harvey: Spain

Mike: Germany

Rachel: Portugal

.

They met in Harvey's office the next morning to watch the first game. Harvey's bad mood (he had the suspicious feeling that this goddamn time difference would be the death of them) quickly went away when he almost laughed Louis out of the room because he came in wearing an uschanka.

"What on earth are you doing?", he gasped wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"What does it look like I'm doing?", Louis countered, "I'm showing support for my team, asshole."

"By wearing a furry hat when it's 77 degrees outside?"

Donna shushed them, her eyes already glued to the TV-screen they had set up in front of his sofas. "The ceremony is about to start."

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and Harvey suddenly found it incredibly hard to take his eyes off her. He had never seen her like this, and it was beyond intriguing to learn everything he could about this different, unexpected side of her. It also made him want to rile her up, to see how deep her passion for this sport really went.

"It's just soccer", he said, purely to provoke her. To his surprise, she shot him a satisfied smirk and pointed to the table she had prepared earlier. "Drink."

"Excuse me?"

"Drink. You said soccer instead of football, and that's a violation of the rules, so you have to take a shot."

"No it isn't."

She dangled a piece of paper in front his face. A paper he signed. A paper she definitely added a few rules to since he'd signed it.

"Yes, it is." The triumph in her voice was hard to miss.

"That's cheating", Harvey protested, looking over to Louis for help. "You're our boss of bets, say something. It's cheating!"

Louis scoffed, demonstratively adjusting his uschanka and sitting down on the sofa. "I'll allow it."

"Drink", Mike agreed with glee in his eyes.

Harvey's eyes jumped from one person to the other. "You know if we all keep drinking every single time we say soccer we won't make it through the day, right? It's barely lunch time."

Jessica raised her brows, not taking any pity on him. "Now you already have to drink twice, so you better get on with it."

Harvey shook his head in disbelief but saw no other choice than to obey since he was clearly outnumbered. He downed the two shots as quickly as he could, cursing under his breath. If he'd known what this day would turn into, he would've eaten more for breakfast. "God, I hate vodka."

"You shouldn't have said soccer", Mike smirked, closing his eyes the next second. "Shit."

"Hah!", Rachel yelled, not even bothering to hide her gloating. She pushed a shot in his direction and threw him a hand kiss. "Drink."

"This is not going to end well", Mike rasped after taking the shot, swallowing down a cough.

And it didn't. Whatever the hell kind of Russian beer and vodka Donna had bought – Harvey kept calling the vodka the "actual drink of the devil" –, it was strong, and it knocked them out good in no time. Between the 'soccer' rule and Donna's other favourite (everyone having to take a shot each time one of the teams they'd bet on scored, except for the person that bet on it) pretty much everyone was absolutely hammered 30 minutes into the game.

Mike was such a giggling mess during half time and his pronunciation got so slurred that Rachel discreetly swapped out his vodka for water so he'd survive the second half. Nobody else seemed to notice. Each time they thought they might have time to sober up, Russia scored another goal and the room erupted in cheers and then groans when they realised they had to take another shot. Most of them had no idea what else was going on on the field, but a goal was a goal, and a goal meant drinking. The only one that still seemed to be approachable after the game was over was Louis, mainly because he had to drink five shots less than the rest. Jessica and Rachel nearly fell over themselves laughing about something no one else found funny, Donna had tried really hard to focus on the game despite her growing intoxication, Harvey had passed out on his sofa and was drooling on the expensive fabric and Mike kept listing football facts and statistics to nobody in particular like his life was depending on it.

Louis, quite tipsy himself, feared the situation was completely out on anyone's control, and loudly announced he'd order them some food. He doubted anyone heard it, so he disappeared to the executives' kitchen to make them some coffee.

"Yes, you go", Donna shouted after him. "Spread your wings, my Russian eagle."

Mike snorted out a laugh and promptly choked on his beer. "Is there even such a thing as a Russian eagle?"

"How the hell would I know?" Donna giggled, taking a sip of her own beer.

"You know", she said tentatively a moment later, "Harvey is wasted."

"No shit, Sherlock. So are we."

"No, I mean he is wasted. And helpless. This is a once in a lifetime chance."

Mike's face lit up with mischief. "I got you, don't worry." He grabbed a permanent marker from Harvey's desk and approached his boss carefully, placing the lid between his lips and bringing the tip of the pen to Harvey's cheek. Slowly, with barely concealed chuckles, he drew a large, awry heart on his cheek. He turned around after he finished, spreading out his arms like he was expecting praise.

"Really?", Donna scoffed. "A heart?"

"What? He's gonna hate it!"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a pink marker from her former cubicle. "Watch and learn, puppy."

Mike's eyes widened when he watched her draw on Harvey's other cheek with sudden, calm precision. "Is that a— "

"Yep."

"He's going to kill you for this", Jessica interjected, finally done with her laughing fit and bringing hers and Rachel's attention back to the rest of the group.

Donna shrugged. "Only if his drunk ass finds out. And even then, it'll be worth it."

Rachel frowned. "When did the game end?"

"About 20 minutes ago."

"Oh. What was the final score?"

"5:0."

Rachel nodded pensively. "That explains why I drank so many shots."

"Anyway." Jessica clapped her hands together, making everyone wince at the noise. "Time to get back to work."

"You're… you're expecting us to work after this?", Mike stammered. "Jessica, we're in no shape to do anything except sleep, eat or continue drinking."

"Who drinks on the job has to work on the job. No excuses", Jessica replied without empathy.

Louis re-entered the room, accompanied by Gretchen. They were both carrying a tray with mugs and Donna hummed in appreciation, inhaling the coffee smell that entered the office with them. "You're a life saver, Louis."

They placed the trays on Harvey's desk and started giving the mugs around. "Time to sober up", Louis said.

Mike grabbed two coffees out of his hands and approached Harvey again, kicking the sofa he was lying on with his foot. "Get up, dickbag."

Harvey jolted awake with a small cry, wide-eyed and panting; clearly still drunk. He murmured a few incomprehensible words before he focused on the cup Mike had placed in his hand.

"You are an angel", he exhaled, staring up at him like Mike was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh boy", Jessica sighed. "He's not drunk, he's hammered."

Mike bit his lip. "We have a meeting in an hour."

"I'll fix it", Donna said, nodding in Mike's and Jessica's direction and getting up from her seat. "Everybody out. Take your food", she gestured to Louis who was in the middle of paying the delivery man, "And get out. Sober up and act like everything's normal. That might be our only chance to get through the rest of the day."

The other four mumbled in agreement and grabbed their mugs and food, exiting Harvey's office right afterwards.

The sudden silence that seeped into the room made Donna nervous and too sober for her liking. She finished her beer in three big gulps, turning off the TV and sneaking a glance at Harvey from the corner of her eye. He was still slumped into the sofa, staring into his mug.

"Are you okay?", she asked quietly.

His gaze flickered up, taking her in intensely before a blissful smile broke out on his face. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. His tie was dangling loosely around his neck, the first two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and his suit jacket was nowhere to be seen. His hair was a dishevelled mess. Donna had the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. It was like being drunk melted away the stiffness and overcompensation he usually always hid behind, leaving nothing but a soft vulnerability that radiated off him and that cracked something inside Donna open. Something she usually kept tucked away.

The last time she'd seen him this open, this loose had been… the other time.

Shit.

She downed another shot of vodka in the surreal hope it would make her head clearer and ban these unwelcome thoughts out of her mind.

"Woah", Harvey commented, still smiling his Cheshire cat smile when he stood up rather wobbly and closed the distance between them. "You sure you can take that much, Paulsen?"

He was close. Too close. She drank another shot, the alcohol burning down her throat and setting her stomach on fire the next seconds. So much for sobering up.

"Eat me, Specter", she countered without thinking, quietly cursing herself when she realised how suggestive the words that slipped out of her mouth sounded. Harvey crooked up his brow. He was about to say something, something we wouldn't say if he was sober, and Donna panicked. Her index finger shot up and pressed against his lips.

"Don't."

Harvey's grin disappeared, the look in his eyes growing more severe and intense. His stare dropped from her eyes to her lips for just a split second, but long enough for her to catch it.

"You asked for it", he mumbled. She felt his breath against her finger and drew it back hastily, like she'd burned herself.

Focus, she told herself. You're drunk, he's drunk.

It doesn't mean anything.

Her stare landed on his left cheek and the tension in her body ebbed away when she remembered what she'd done earlier. Before she could help it, her hand lightly grazed said cheek. He froze.

"Get some food in you, okay? And another coffee. You have a meeting in less than an hour."

Harvey blinked, his hazy brain trying to catch up with what was she was saying while still trying to comprehend what she was doing with her hand on his cheek. "Meeting?"

She chuckled, using the moment to create some space between them and escape his eyes. "Yes, a meeting, doofus. With that new fitness client of yours, remember?"

"Right", he said, more to himself than to her.

"Good. I'm going back to my office." She came to an halt at the door, studying him from a safe distance. "You're gonna be alright, yeah?"

He hesitated. An idea started building in the back of his head, slow and blurry like the rest of his mind but there nonetheless. "Yeah", he answered with a loopy smile. "I need to take care of some business, but after that I'm going to nail that meeting."

Her gaze fell onto his cheek again and she snickered. "Sure you are."

Harvey watched her walk away, swallowing down the silly urge to ask her to stay. If he needed her, she was right next door. He took a sip of his coffee and cringed when he realised it had already gone cold. He poured some vodka into the mug and sat down on his desk chair, firing up his laptop to bring his idea to life.

.

Harvey did not nail the meeting.

His mind was still spinning when he walked down the hallway to meet Mike and his client – maybe mixing his coffee with vodka while he was supposed to sober up hadn't been his brightest decision, after all –, but as he passed Donna's office he noticed he hadn't been the only one that had kept drinking. Rachel and Donna were sitting on her table, each a glass of scotch in hand, cackling like mad and waving at him when he walked by.

And the second he saw Mike's flushed face, Harvey knew he was far away from being sober, too.

Strangely, their obvious state of intoxication didn't seem to matter to his client, who was apparently much more irritated by Harvey's presence itself. He just couldn't stop staring at Harvey's face like he had a hard time believing what he was seeing. Harvey also didn't understand why Mike couldn't stop laughing every time he looked to the side and saw his boss.

Their client eventually stormed out of the room after Mike made a dick joke that was so obvious and distasteful it made even Harvey cringe. "What the hell is going on?", he asked, completely bewildered.

Mike had tears in his eyes from laughing, but just shook his head. "Nothing", he said hoarsely. "I should go after him and try to save what I can, before we lose the second client in two days."

Harvey gave him a short nod and headed for the bathroom.

He just wanted to take a nap.

He just wanted this day to be over.

Watching soccer – football, a voice in his head that suspiciously sounded like Donna's immediately corrected him – was freaking exhausting.

He would be damned if he'd ever watch another game by her rules ever again.

… except he knew he would, if only to win the bet.

Harvey sighed, splashing some water on his face in order to clear his head. Their client had really run out of there like he'd seen a ghost. He shook his head, still somewhat confused and annoyed, and definitely still drunk. He grabbed a paper towel from the side and dried his cheeks, only looking into the mirror after he'd thrown it into the garbage.

He froze.

Then turned his face from one side to the other.

A heart.

And a—

What the—

The client hadn't run out of the meeting because he'd seen a ghost, but because he'd seen the giant pink dick on Harvey's left cheek.

He had an actual, godforsaken dick on his face.

He'd held a meeting with a dick drawn on his face.

Harvey knew who he had to blame instantly. There just wasn't another option.

"Mike", he yelled, his voice erupting through the room so loudly it almost made him wince. He stormed out of the bathroom, pushing the door open furiously but hesitating the next second when he saw the two people waiting at the other side of it. Mike. And Donna.

His anger melted, some of his drunk idiocy crashing back in.

"Did you draw the heart on my cheek?", he asked her softly.

Donna's eyes widened, momentarily taken off guard by the genuinely happy tone of his voice. "Umm…", she stammered.

Mike was bending over and absolutely shaken with laughter, his eyes wet and switching from Donna to Harvey and back. "Try it the other way around", he managed to croak out between more laughter.

Harvey jaw dropped. He looked at Mike and touched his right cheek. "You— a heart…? I don't— "

Mike blew him a kiss and Harvey's eyes flickered to Donna, who was desperately trying not to burst out into laughter, which only got harder when Mike slung his arm around her shoulder because he couldn't hold himself upright anymore.

Harvey touched his left cheek. "You drew a dick on my face?", he muttered with such complete disbelief that Donna couldn't help it any longer. A loud cackle escaped her lips, only fired on by Mike's hysterical laughter.

When they saw the entirely unamused look on Harvey's face, they shared a glance and turned on their heel, running away like little school children who had just kicked him in the shin and now didn't want to face the consequences.

"You're dead to me!", Harvey yelled after them. "Both of you!"

From now on, all bets were off.

Game on.

.

yes, this fic is going to be as silly and fluffy as the first chapter suggests, with a sprinkle of angst here and there because I couldn't live with myself otherwise.

you don't need to know anything about football to be able to follow this story, but you're probably gonna appreciate some of the jokes more if you do. also, I'm sorry this is up so late and now the wc is already almost over, but life kept getting in the way. I'll try to get the rest up as quickly as I can. since I've made the outline for this fic before the real world cup began, I have my own list of teams that'll reach the quarter/semi-finale etc, so this fic will definitely have a different world champion and different game results.

let me know what you think of this. it's so different from what I usually do with 120 years, so I'm curious to read your thoughts. x