I felt like I ended Laryngitis to soon so I decided to make a sequel. :)
Once again, I don't own Suits.
Just Say It
Harvey sighed in relief when Mike's taunting ceased and he'd fallen asleep. The rest of ride was silent besides the wheezing, scratchy sounds of Mike breathing. Harvey looked his associate over once more, just to make sure he was not going to stop breathing anytime soon. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. After the long ride to his condo, the town car finally pulled up in front of the entrance.
Looking over at Mike, regretting that he was going to have to wake the young man up in order for him to get inside.
"Mike," he whispered while putting a hand on Mike's leg and shaking it. "Mike, wake up."
Mike groaned, which irritated his throat, and caused him to cough.
"Easy, easy." Harvey said patting Mike's back.
Mike's eyes opened wearily and he looked around in confusion. He was in a small black space; where was he, what was he doing here? He began to hyperventilate, thinking that he may have been buried alive or something. Worst of all, his throat hurt, feeling raw and burnt.
"Mike! Mike, are you with me? Mike answer me!" Harvey yelled, shaking his associates shoulder roughly.
Finally Mike seemed to snapped out of his 'spacing out' and looked around frantically until he met Harvey's concerned face.
"Ha-Harvey? Where am I?" he gasped scratchly.
"We are in my car at my place. What's the matter with you?"
"N-nothing. It's nothing, just disoriented is all."
Harvey nodded, still skeptical about the whole situation; but he let it go, and got out of the cat, Mike on his tail, stumbling a bit.
Harvey guided Mike to his apartment and when they got inside, Mike instantly dropped to the couch, exhausted. Harvey smirked as he traveled to his room to change, fetching some extra clothes for Mike as well. Once he changed into some gray sweatpants and a red Harvard hoodie, Mike grabbed the other clothes and walked back into the living room. He found Mike slumped on the couch, his head propped up on his hand. His breathing was still weak and still looked worse for wear; the thin layer of sweat still covering his flushed face.
"Mike," he said walking over to him. Mike's head lifted slowly as he looked over at him. His expression sprung up in surprise when he noticed what Harvey was wearing.
"I know what you're thinking, Mike, don't say a word. I have regular clothes, you know, I don't sleep in my suits." Harvey said throwing the clothes at Mike.
Mike scoffed, bringing up another bout of coughing.
Harvey's face scrunched as he listened to the harsh sound of the coughing.
"Hey, you need to take it easy, Mike, or your going to be having a sore throat for a while." said Harvey as he got a glass of water and handed it to Mike. Mike took the water gratefully and down the whole thing in a second.
"Thanks," Mike breathed hoarsely as he laid down of the comfy couch. Before he could even keep his eyes closed for a minute, a faint voice called out his name.
"Mike!" the voice seemed faraway. "Mike, wake up!" he was being shaken now, and it was disturbing him. His eyes fluttered open to see Harvey bending over him.
"You're not sleeping on this stupid excuse for a couch. Go sleep in the bedroom, it's more comfortable."
Mike looked flustered at the offer. "A-are you sure? I don't mind-"
"Mike, would I have offered if I didn't want you sleeping in my room?"
Mike smiled and got up, using the couch for support, which Harvey didn't miss.
"I'll wake you up in a few hours so you can take your antibiotics."
Mike nodded and made his way into Harvey's bedroom, instantly falling asleep once his face touched the pillow.
Mike had been sleeping for at least three hours. No sounds had came out from the bedroom besides an occasional cough or a wheeze. Occasionally, he would go check on him, putting a hand on Mike's chest to see if he was still breathing. Other than that, Harvey's place was peaceful and quiet. Harvey sighed in content as he emailed Donna on what was going on and then turning on the tv to watch football.
An hour into the game, Harvey heard a weak groan and he immediately jumped up off the couch and ran to the bedroom.
"Something must be wrong with Mike," he thought as he neared the room. "Wait, am I caring? Maybe Mike was right. Damn! I hate it when he does that!" Harvey finally reached the room and looked in. Mike looked troubled, shifting around under the tangled sheets. His face looked almost transparent and the thin layer of sweat was thicker than before.
"Mike, Mike wake up!" Harvey yelled, trying to get through to his associate. He felt Mike's forehead and winced in sympathy when he felt the heat radiating off him. Harvey ran to the bathroom and got the thermometer and brought it back to the bedroom, taking Mike's temperature. 102.7.
"Shit!" Harvey spat out. This wasn't good; he had to get Donna over here or at least call her.
"Donna, I need your advice. Mike's temperature is over 100, and could be spiking at any moment." He heard her gasp on the other side, but began telling him what to do. She wanted to leave him to deal with the caring, because she knew he did.
"Get ice packs, or something really cold like water bottles, and place them on his body: his forehead, his legs, neck, and even his armpits. You need to keep him cold, or else he's going to need to go back to the hospital. I'll bring over some soup tomorrow for his throat."
"Thanks, Donna," Harvey replied as he hung up the phone. Harvey gathered anything he could from the freezer and brought them into his room. After placing the ice packs on Mike, he sat down in a nearby chair, exhausted. Caring was hard work. Rubbing his face, he watched as Mike's harsh breathing died down to smaller calmer breaths. Harvey finally felt at ease.
