They tried to keep their heads down. People get hurt in prison. People like them. People who looked like they came from upper class condominiums and owned Bentleys and $1200 suits. People that probably helped put everyone else that was in the prison, in the prison. It was difficult to talk. What could they say? They'd forgiven each other – there was that – but being thrown into a life sentence in federal prison with the country's worst criminals could do that to a person. You cling to what's familiar; even if it's the reason you're there to begin with. All of their misadventures and fights and betrayals didn't matter now. It was them. It was all or nothing. They were two people that just weren't good at being alone. And so they found solace in each other.
It was a strange thought to think, after all that had happened, that they didn't think they looked half bad in orange. A part of them hated it – maybe they were destined to end up here from the beginning. A part of them found it amusing – if they were going to rot in prison, at least they would look good doing it.
"I thought prison food would be worse." Louis mused, stabbing at the fresh salad on his tray. They'd been served only the best – grilled chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, and fruit salad for dessert. The green garden salad they each started with was crisp and full of colour – almost an uncanny rainbow against the otherwise gray prison.
Mike nodded, picking up half a cherry tomato with his fork and inspecting it before putting it in his mouth. "Maybe it's poisoned."
The joke earned the ghost of a smile – something that they hadn't done in months now. Not since long before the cops had shown up at Pearson Specter Litt, cuffing half the building and sending the place into full panic mode. It had been so stressful. Eventually, they knew that too many people knew. They'd known from the beginning that there was a chance they'd get caught and end up in jail, but they'd disregarded the thought. Harvey Specter did not take risks if he couldn't come out the other side with a brilliant smirk. The confidence only lasted a few years though – broken as it was, as they faced many scared of being found out – until it seemed there was no way out. They'd all considered running, but no one could bring themselves to leave their home. The plan was to stick together until the end. But in the end, it was just the two of them, mourning the lives they'd lost and the friends they missed.
"You know, if it were anyone else, they wouldn't be in prison right now." Mike mused, trying to find his stomach. He just wasn't hungry. The feeling of loss that he'd grown so accustomed to over the years, never failed to sicken him. He had no appetite. He was tired, depressed, and a million other things he didn't even think could be found in the dictionary.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you, me, Harvey, and Jessica would have gotten them out. Unfortunately for us, the best goddamn lawyers in New York were unavailable for our trial." He tried to sound light hearted, but the words came out sounding as bitter as they tasted. "I miss them." He muttered, dropping his fork to the table with a clatter and hanging his head to rest in his hands.
"Hey boys," a deep, horrible voice said from behind Mike. He tensed, but didn't bother to look up. He hoped that if he squeezed his eyes closed tight enough, that he could just wake up in his bed, away from this nightmare.
"More like pussies..." another voice said.
It was all too familiar a scene by this point. A tradition that was played out once or twice a week – sometimes more if Biddy was in a particularly good mood. "Having a bad day, Mikey?" The mock concern in his voice drew bile into Mike's mouth. He swallowed audibly, trying to keep his breathing slow. This was no time to panic – the calmer he remained, the faster it would be over, he learned. Biddy was egged on by the fight, and if Mike could just hold still and take it quietly...
"I asked you a question, fool." He barked, grabbing Mike's shoulder and turning him in his seat so that his legs hit the edge of the bench painfully and his back twisted to unnatural angels. Louis remained quiet too, also learning his lesson early on.
The first fist came down hard, smacking loudly into the side of Mike's head, sending him sideway onto the top of the table; twisting his spine further and crashing his ribs into the hard wood. The breath rushed out of him, and he swallowed up new air as soon as he could, holding his breath to keep from groaning against the pain.
"Get up." Biddy commanded, dragging Mike into the circle that had formed around them. Biddy's crew was always there to watch and laugh as he had his fun with the 'bitch'. Unfortunately, it was a lot more fun for them than it was for the men who'd – until then – lived a quite comfortable protected lifestyle. Without letting go of his collar, Biddy brought his right knee up right into Mike's gut; this time he wasn't able to stop the sound that came out of him at the impact. He fell to the ground, unable to catch his breath as his muscles coiled and tensed around his lungs. He silently wished they'd just kill him and get it over with. But eventually, the guards would come and fight off the notorious group and help Mike back up into his seat, usually not bothering to see if he was alright before returning to their posts. Unless there was a lot of blood, the wardens usually let it go – letting trash deal with trash, they all deserved it. Except that Mike didn't really deserve it did he? He'd dedicated his career – fraudulent or otherwise – to helping others. And Louis? Louis definitely did not deserve the treatment he received. Louis who was so loving and caring, so admiring of things that were beautiful and so passionate about justice and the law. It didn't seem fair.
Of course, on some level, it wasn't fair that two men that had never been in a fight in their life, and were in prison for using their brains – not their fists – were locked in with large brutish males who took pleasure in beating down the weaker inmates; Mike being a favorite target. At the same time though, crime was crime and if you didn't want to be locked up with murderers... well, as the saying went: if you don't want to do the time, then sure as hell don't do the crime. And do the crime they did.
"Are you ok?" Louis whispered when it was safe. It wasn't needed; the cafeteria was loud enough to cover up any conversation the men were having – they could be plotting a mass murder and no one would know – but it was become the usual. They always spoke quietly now, especially after Mike got his ass kicked. It was just natural for some reason, safer in a way, as if saying the words out loud made it more real.
He nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath, clutching the table as the world spun around him.
"They really ought to send you to a doctor, you've probably had six concussions since we got here." It was a low guess, but neither wanted to do the math – although Mike's mind did it all on its own.
"You sound like Harvey." He smiled wistfully before depression gripped him again and he hung his head again, desperately fighting off the tears that would no doubt get him killed in there. He missed his mentor so much. He was more than that though, in so many ways. Harvey protected Mike against everything, even when Mike didn't want him to. But he couldn't save him this time, and they had no idea what had happened to the man. They tried not to think about it.
"God, I didn't even get to talk to him before... I never got to apologize."
Mike nodded in agreement. "Me too." Mike had been closer though. He'd been only seconds away from seeing Harvey that day.
Mike checked his watch, waiting impatiently but without a care in the world. He'd just won a big case all on his own, and Harvey was due back from a meeting any time now. He couldn't wait to share the news.
"Mike, stop bouncing. Sit down." Donna came into the room looking annoyed. "I'm happy for you, but seriously, relax."
Mike stopped where he was, looking at her with a blank expression, before they both grew huge grins. Donna couldn't hide how proud she was of him. She'd seen him raised from a pup, and it seemed that his was one of the big dogs now. He even had his own lineup of clients.
When Harvey came into sight, she returned to her desk, allowing the men their moment of celebration.
Harvey wasn't surprised to see Mike in his office. He barely acknowledged him as he took off his coat and put down his briefcase. He was about to take his seat at his desk when a hand shot out to stop him. Looking up, Mike was still grinning. Something told Harvey a story was coming on, and it wasn't one he wanted to miss. So he stood up and straightened himself out, waiting for Mike to spill the beans. Only, he didn't. He only stared, smiling wider and wider before Harvey finally lost his very small amount of patience. "What is it, Mike?" He asked, mouth twitching as he tried to keep his own smile at bay.
"I won the case."
Harvey's eyes widened for a second as he processed, lips parted slightly as he stared at his former associate.
"What, you're surprised?"
No, it was Mike who was surprised as he was suddenly enveloped in a hug that was pure joy. He hugged back without hesitation, wrapping his arms around the lawyer's neck. It wasn't unusual for them to hug anymore – not since... – but it was unusual for Harvey to be so forward at work. It was even more of a shock when the man pressed his lips to Mike's forehead before holding him tighter. "Not even slightly." He replied, voice a definite, stern tone."I'm proud of you, Mike." He said in a volume just above a whisper before he pulled back. "Go pour us some drinks." He commanded, turning with a grin to wave Donna in.
But... where was Donna? He peered through the hall for a moment, wondering where she'd gone. She usually told him before she left her desk for her 4 minute daily washroom break. And then the was on his knees, hands behind his head, listening to Mike's protests from behind him as he was no doubt being forced into the same position. Shit.
Trays were abandoned as Louis' circle time began. They always made sure they were on time and ready to participate in group therapy, in hopes of being let out a few years early. Not that a few years counted when you were already in for a quarter of a century, and chances were they'd die in there anyway. But they hoped. They were in separate groups, and dedicated their time alone to fixing themselves up, keeping the endorphins flowing so that the despair didn't take over. Mike hit the gym. He'd gotten a lot stronger since he'd arrived and his muscles had toned out, but he hadn't put on any visible weight. He always knew he was in no way an endomorph, but nothing? The other men lifting around him where enormous, it was no wonder he was picked on so bad. He was smaller, weaker, blonder, and had a hell of a lot worse a case of 'boy face' than anyone else. He was surprised he'd survived even this long.
He wasn't able to find Louis for the rest of the day, and it wasn't until he was back in his cell, alone, that he started to worry. Louis usually beat him back but they had a five minute warning for lights and still, nothing. The cell doors were all shut and locked, and men were climbing into their bunks.
"Hey, excuse me?" Mike called through the bars out to one of the guards. Taking his time, the warden came over, standing a good couple of feet away from the door as if Mike was going to reach his hand out and assault him at any second. "Where's Louis Litt?"
"That's classified information." The man said, turning around to leave.
"Is he ok?"
"Classified, Mr. Ross." And then he was too far away to give Mike any thought at all.
He slept restlessly that night, afraid for his friends, and now on the constant verge of panic attack over the one friend he knew – or had known a few hours ago – was safe. By the time morning came around, he was no worse off. At least for the time being his mind was focused on worry, and not the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that was bubbling beneath the surface. No one would tell him where Louis was.
The only silver lining the day offered was the he didn't get beaten in the cafeteria. Everything else sucked. He couldn't focus in therapy, earning him a head shake and something scribbled beside his name on a clipboard. He couldn't eat – as usual, and then from the mix of suppressed hunger and lack of focus, he dropped a 150lb barbell onto his still bruised chest. Things couldn't seem to get any worse.
But worse it did get, because at dinner, his hopes were thrown up into the air so high, and then shot down like a disc used in gun training. He was winded, exhausted, and heartbroken. But at least he had peace of mind.
He was twirling his fork around a bowl of spaghetti with no intension of eating it. He ignored the world around him, and focused his energy in praying to whatever god could hear him, that his friends were alright. It was somewhere during that time, when a number of green plastic trays were smashed down aggressively onto his table, and he looked up, horrified. In front of him, taking their seats with sly grins, was a group of men that hadn't bothered him yet. Why they chose to pick on him now, he had no idea. They watched him and his deer in the headlights expression with pride as they scooped up their own pasta and swallowed down their meatballs practically whole. It was a disturbing sight, much like lions taunting their prey.
You'd think that after so being beaten to a pulp for so long that the fear would just be drained out of you, but when one of the men – head shaved and covered in angry tattoos – stood and grabbed him out of his seat, his heart was in his throat. "Gonna finish that?" He asked, grinning when Mike shook his head side to side fervently. "Didn't your mama teach you better?" He laughed while he pressed the full plate into Mike's face, laughing only harder when he gagged and spluttered, closing his eyes against the assault of warm tomato sauce.
"What do you think, Specter? Should we help him make mama proud?" The voice was high, trying to be composed over the joy he had at his victim's displeasure.
Mike barely made out the words, but when he did, his mind only focused on one. Specter. He tried to look at the men, all in their respective seats to find the one he told himself not to hope for, but his eyes were half glued shut by the sticky red substance that covered him.
"You could try, but I don't think it'll be easy to make anyone proud of that." There was no doubt in his mind that that was his Harvey's voice Only... it wasn't.
Snickers could be heard from all around him, but they were drowned out by his own wailing as a heavy fist collided with his stomach. He dropped to the floor, retching, stomach in his mouth, as he tried to catch a breath. But the men had had their fun, and they were gone. All of them.
It took Mike a few extra minutes to be able to get back in his seat without Louis' usual helping hand. When he was able to breathe – although that was about all he was able to do – it was shaky and painful. Slowly, he made his way into a washroom to clean up, walking blindly through the pain. He hung over the sink, trying to scrub the sauce and noodles out of his hair and away from his face, but ended up heaving over the cold porcelain before he could finish.
"Man, this guy's nasty." A voice said. It was one of the voices from the group that had attacked him earlier. "Look at him, I'm almost gonna be sick just being in the same room."
He was knocked to the floor, and hands pressed painfully into his upper arms as he felt himself get straddled by a man that was much too heavy to be on top of him. He whimpered. "What's the matter, need your mama?" The voice asked, and emphasized with a slap across his face. When his head turned to smack against the floor, he kept it there. He was shaking and gasping, unable to breathe through the pain any longer.
"Just kill me." He muttered, earning a round of laughter. But at least the man got off of him.
"Clean up blondie, we want to see that pretty little face." They laughed again. A new pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him roughly to his feet, although these hands didn't assault him the way the others had. They leaned him against the sink, and suddenly fingers were running through his hair. He almost welcomed the touch – so gentle compared to the rough, savage touches he'd grown accustomed to. But he remembered that even flowers can be cruel. The thought came just soon enough for him to brace himself before the fingers tightened and pushed him down into the sink, ripping out individual strands as he went. Cold water splashed at his face, and soon it was trickling through his hair. Opening his eyes ever so slightly, he wasn't sure if the red he was seeing pooled in the water was from the dinner so kindly thrown into him, or his own blood. Maybe it was both. The world spun and he whined pathetically, losing his legs to his weight. The hands let go of his hair after his head had already been snapped when gravity decided to play his enemy.
"You're alright, pup." No...
It took him a while to get back to his bed, but he managed. Apparently he was getting a new roommate. Louis was still missing in action. His stomach was turning against the crushing thoughts. Whatever was going on, he was sure he couldn't handle it.
He didn't had to wait long to find out who he'd be sharing a bunk bed with though, the man came in barely fifteen minutes after he did. No... Not him... He couldn't handle it, he was right.
Harvey's hair was styled just as perfectly somehow, even without all the products. His muscles were clearly defined through his uniform, and his eyes were cold, jaw set. He smirked down to Mike as he climbed up into his own bunk, and then the lights were off.
Every night, the lights go off at the same time. Every night, the building goes silent at the same time. Every night, Mike let himself feel safe, for only a few hours until the sun came up, the lights came on, and the cell doors were opened once again. Except that this night was different from the other nights. The lights went off, but the usual silence was taken up by his ragged breathing as he tried so hard to keep himself together, and the usual safety of the night was taken away by the cruel presence above him. How could Harvey have been so horrible to him? After all they'd been through... Maybe he was angry. Maybe he regretted taking Mike on and blamed him for where he was. Mike shuddered at the thought.
And then he held still. Harvey was moving. He held his breath as he felt the bed shake and heard Harvey's feet hit the cold concrete floor. And then his bed fell with the weight of a second person. The sheets were pulled back, and then set back in place, and a hand feathered across the patch of hair that was still sore. "Mike," Harvey whispered through the darkness, which was responded with a sob from the younger man. "Mike," he whispered again, touching his cheek lightly, caressing the bruised skin.
Mike waited. He knew the rose would cut him with its thorns at any second now. Harvey had betrayed him before, hurt him before in every way possible, and was now in his bed, capable of anything. He was shaking, awaiting the onslaught that wouldn't come, and the anticipation was killing him. "Hurry up and do it already." He hissed, shooting his elbow backward into the man he'd once cared so much about as if to instigate him.
"Mike, I'm sorry. I didn't want to do any of that, you have to believe me." The responding sobs made his heart clench and soon he was fighting back tears of his own. He wrapped his arm securely around Mike's waist, pulling him closer to him. "I was just trying to protect you." He breathed.
And then Mike snapped. Flipping himself over smoothly, he climbed on top of his new roommate and slammed his fist down into his face, and then the other, and then the other, and Harvey never fought back. He was about to go for another shot when hands grabbed his hips gently, and he heard a whispered, "Stop." In the same commanding tone he'd grown so used to, only quieter now.
"Protect me," he laughed humorlessly, choking through his tears. "You fucking attacked me with your crew." He spat.
Harvey grabbed his wrists, just above where his fists were, and pulled him down on top of him so that their cheeks were pressed together. He wrapped his arms around the crying form and held it tightly. "I'm sorry," the only words he could manage. Mike's arms went around him finally, and they clung to each other. Eventually Harvey rolled them over, pulled himself over the other; careful to hold his weight, and pressed his lips down to his. Mike's response was immediate; he reached up to weave his fingers through his mentor's hair, holding him to him fast and kissing him with raw desperation. Harvey let his weight fall slightly, trying to get their bodies as close as possible without doing any further harm. They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, finally remembering what it felt like to be home.
When Mike woke up, he was alone in his bed. The indent from the top told him that Harvey was up there, and hurt suddenly flooded through him. The cells were opened, and Harvey took his time getting out of bed, only doing so when he saw Mike getting up.
"Don't go yet," he pleaded, catching Mike's wrist and pulling him back into the room. Mike didn't answer, only stared at him with big watery blue eyes. When everyone else had left the sanction, he pulled Mike forward, flush against him and kept him close. "They can't know about us. I want to make sure you're safe Mike, but you have to trust me." It sounded strained, he was pleading, begging perhaps. It was so unbelievably out of character that Mike wondered if he'd heard him correctly.
"I do," he whispered, hating the words as he said them, but knowing that he couldn't have said anything else if he tried. He did trust Harvey. Completely. Even if he was mentally preparing himself to get beaten for the third day in a row by the man he loved.
Harvey leaned back and kissed him slowly, letting himself really feel Mike's touch. The emotion was still just as desperate as it had been the night before, but there was more control now that they'd both stopped wondering whether or not the other was alive or dead. They reveled in the taste of each other, relearned each other's curves and lines, until Harvey finally broke the kiss. "Let's go," he whispered, kissing his temple and taking his hand – though he dropped it the second they left the cell.
Breakfast wasn't easy, although Mike felt a hell of a lot safer sitting next to Harvey, even if he was surrounded by his new criminal friends.
"We heard weeping last night." One of them said, earning another wave of snickers. Is this really the only way people had fun around here? "Have a rough night with Mr. Specter, Mikey?"
Another piped up, "Save some for us, man, he looks like a pretty good time." Mike didn't miss the predatory sparkle in his eye.
"Don't even think about it," Harvey sneered. "This one's mine."
The table erupted into a series of 'ooh's. "Alright, man, you can have him." Hands went up in surrender, and the rest seemed to concede as well. And Mike had no idea why.
"Why don't he talk?"
"Throat's probably sore." Harvey smirked, and the table exploded. Mike winced back, not liking this side of Harvey, even if he was just going along with it to keep up appearances. He would never hurt Mike like that, and Mike knew it, but there was something in the way he said it which made him seem like every other man there.
"That true, boy?"
Mike nodded, trying to force water down his suddenly very dry throat.
"Eat." Harvey pushed his plate closer to him, reminding Mike of yesterday's events.
"Not hungry." He mumbled, staring at his hands.
"Yes you are, eat. Don't get sick." And like always, Mike couldn't refuse him. He began taking small bites of his oatmeal, blocking out the conversation that was being held around him.
It wasn't until they were in the gym that Mike learned the real reason that Harvey had earned so much respect. Harvey was lifting what was probably more than his own body weight, and confronted, puffed his already well defined chest out and walked his opponent into a corner before they were dragged apart by guards. It seemed that Harvey's years of boxing training had made finding friends easy. He came over to spot Mike, putting one finger under either side of the barbell, waiting to catch assist if he was needed.
"You've made quite the impression here." Mike noted, voice strained and face red and he pressed the weights up in the air above his chest.
"It's not hard to figure out that brains and charm aren't what get you noticed around here." He smirked. "I had to fight a couple of people." There was more to it obviously, but Mike let it go, deciding he didn't want the image of Harvey fighting in his mind – not that he hadn't seen it many times in the past.
Time began to move by easier. When Harvey was with him, no one bothered him. It seemed that Harvey's crew was just as bad as Biddy's. He was sleeping easier; every night Harvey found himself wrapped around Mike, and would return to his bed just before the sun came up. Eating was also easier; with less bruises and headaches to worry about, Mike felt ever so slightly less stressed out. He still worried mindlessly over his friends – Louis especially – but felt much more at ease knowing that Harvey was safe and with him. He'd started to get along with some of the guys he hung out with as well, learning that even criminals had brains and personalities. He found a guy that was a wiz at math, and they battled each other out many times over various mental math questions, but of course Mike always won – especially at reciting by to the nth decimal.
It was almost time for Harvey to leave Mike's bed, and Mike was making every last second count. He'd woken up a few minutes before, feeling Harvey stir beside him as the warning bell sounded from the end of the hall – quiet enough that it didn't bother the others from their sleep, but loud enough to irritate Harvey's obnoxious doglike hearing. His ears at this point though, were distracted by Mike's content sigh, and he pulled himself closer, tucking his face up into the crook of Harvey's neck. "I dreamt about you." He sighed again, wistful. He almost wanted to return to the dream, but the feeling of Harvey in his arms in real time, the smell of him filling Mike's senses, it was intoxicating and he wouldn't trade it for the world.
"Tell me," he whispered, tightening his grip around the younger man, nuzzling into his hair affectionately.
Mike thought back for a moment, recalling the details. "It was about that first night..." he mused. "The one where we watched all the Rocky movies."
Harvey chuckled, rolling on top of him. Mike was just about fully healed by that point, and welcomed the pressure, wanting more of it. "You know we didn't actually watch anything that night." He smiled, slipping his tongue between Mike's lips.
Mike mewled, pawing gently at the other man's back. A little bit breathlessly, he added, "oh, I think we both got quite a show that night." He countered, earning another laugh before their lips locked together more thoroughly.
"I feel like I'm more upset about this than you are." Mike noted, taking a sip of the scotch that was set in front of him.
"Why should I be upset?" Harvey asked, letting his arm rest on the back of the couch behind Mike.
"Because we lost the case."
"Not yet." Harvey silenced Mike with a look, and then stood to make his way over to the television.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked, incredulous.
"I figured we should take a break, watch some movies."
"We need to figure out what we're going to do about Turner." Mike contradicted, staring at his boss as he inserted a disc into the blue ray. "We don't exactly have a lot of time here."
"We have plenty of time." Rocky. He put on Rocky. Mike couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Besides, I think you've had too much alcohol to work on the case."
"I've had less than you."
"You're a lightweight."
Mike slumped his head back against the back of the couch, wondering why he wasn't more frustrated with the lawyer. They were going to lose their first case, and he was so calm about it. Maybe it was the blind faith he had. Harvey was after all, the best god damn lawyer in New York, and he was his mentor. "Fine." He muttered.
"So you've finally acknowledged it."
"No, fine, we'll take a break."
Harvey chuckled, sitting back down and taking a sip of the smooth amber alcohol. "Relax, rookie. It's in the bag." It wasn't, but Mike accepted that it would be before they ran out of time, and so he did as he was told and relaxed.
At some point, Harvey's hand had found its way to Mike's leg, and although it seemed odd, he didn't question it. As they recited one of their favorite lines together, he could have sworn Harvey squeezed it just a little, and then again later during a fight scene. He was aware that the older man was watching him, staring for only seconds at a time, and doing so often. Eventually he looked up to question him but changed his mind when he saw the expression he was facing. Harvey turned back to the movie, but not until after the image was seared into Mike's impressive brain. Harvey looked tense, and not in the usual lawyery stressful case kind of way.
"Everything ok?" He asked suspiciously, knowing he wouldn't receive an answer. Harvey didn't break eye contact with the screen. Sighing, Mike let it go, settling for covering Harvey's hand with his. Harvey's hand seemed to twitch beneath the other, but relaxed quickly, turning over to take Mike's hand slowly. Mike put the odd gesture out of his mind. When Harvey wanted to talk, he would.
"Mike?" He asked finally. "Do you trust me?"
Mike was dumbfounded as he stared at his employer. "Completely." His brow furrowed and a frown found its way into his expression.
"Good." He replied, turning back to the movie again. Although this time, he shifted himself a little bit closer to the associate, moving the kid's hand to his other so that he could return his arm back to its place over Mike's shoulders. For some reason, Mike leaned into it.
By the time the big fight scene came around, the two were more or less pressed up against each other. Yelling the lines and acting out the punches, Mike somehow ended up sprawled on the couch on top of Harvey, and their mouths were pressed together before either could realize what was happening. From then on, it was a blur of kissing and grinding and moaning, clawing and grabbing and biting. They were broken from their trance by the end of the movie.
Awkwardly, they sat up. Mike thought he was about to be kicked out of the apartment, but Harvey was putting in the next movie. Rocky II. It was just as unusual this time as everything else had been the entire night, when Harvey suddenly pulled Mike back on top of him after barely five minutes of film, and they started over. This time, clothes were being shed, and buttons were being detached from various expensive wears. They were all sweat and gasps by the time the fifth movie ended, and entangled tightly in a pile of twisted limbs, holding each other in place.
The effects of the dream gave Mike a sort of high for the majority of the day, as he relived possibly his favorite moment of his life so far over and over in his mind, detail for detail, gasp for gasp. Finally, they were alone again. The washroom was safe for the moment, empty of everyone except for them, and they took the chance. Mike was pressed up against the sink – again – and Harvey was worrying his lips gently with his, rubbing up and down his back, a comforting feeling for both of them. They flew apart when the door opened, and Harvey pulled himself up into his tough guy stance – one that Mike still hated to see, even if it did save their asses.
"You're the one who stole my little friend?" They were being circled, closed into a make-do corner. Biddy looked pissed. "Mikey why'd you let him do this? I thought we had something special." The group around them seemed to find this amusing. He pushed Harvey to the side and grabbed Mike, throwing him back against the sink and pressing himself tightly against him, kissing him roughly and licking the inside of his mouth. This was not happening.
Harvey shouted but was thrown to the floor before he could try to help. In response to Harvey's outburst, Biddy turned Mike around aggressively and worked them into an unbelievably compromising position. Harvey's heart was beating through his chest at the scene, but he was being held back by more people than he had limbs.
"What, you don't like this?" The man thrusted against Mike crudely, grinning at the glare he was receiving.
"Don't you fucking touch him." Harvey growled, managing to throw off one of the men before becoming fully restrained again.
"Have it your way." An unsettling energy settled over the room, and Mike was released. "I hope you know why they call me Biddy though." He laughed darkly. "You're about to find out."
Mike groaned. Biddy was some kind of slur for Big D he'd learned, and he hadn't stopped to think about it until then. Now that he knew, he wished fervently that he could unknow. There was no time to think about that though, Harvey was getting thrown onto his stomach, and kicked in the ribs. Mike was screaming for someone, anyone to come to their aid, but no one did. The men were laughing as they restrained the smaller man now, making sure he watched what was about to unfold before him. Three men were still holding Harvey in place as Biddy ripped his clothes from him. Harvey didn't make a sound, but Mike screamed like bloody murder until more people began to show up. He thanked god that they were Harvey's people. And then all hell broke loose.
There was beeping... a steady beeping sound, and... voices. The squeak of sneakers? Mike opened one eye, not sure what he was expecting to see. It only took a few seconds to recognize the room as one in a hospital. He wasn't alone. He shared the room with another man, one that had fought many times beside Harvey. For a second Mike mused over how loyal criminals could be to people they hardly knew. Harvey must have really proven himself. Harvey. His mind swirled around the images that he couldn't erase from his mind. God, no. God, no. God, no. He repeated like a mantra, praying for it to just be erased from his mind erased from history. But no matter how hard he tried, or how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, the picture wouldn't go away. The nurse assured him that Mr. Specter was just fine, and that they were both going to be released and sent back in the morning. That only added to the anxiety.
Soon though, he was back in his bunk, with Harvey snuggled up beside him, humming quietly.
"How are you so calm?" He asked, lost in the sensation of Harvey drawing circles on his hip.
"You're here." He replied without hesitation, like it should be obvious.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"Oh?"
"They wouldn't have hurt me as bad as they would've hurt you."
Harvey sighed. "Mike, no one's going to touch you but me." The circles turned into uncomfortable grips.
"They want me around to play with; they don't want you here at all." He whispered, turning around to face him.
The older man brought his face closer to the other and ground out, "Mike, you are mine. Do you understand that? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever."
"Harvey, I'm always going to put you ahead of me." He didn't wait for the retort he knew was coming, he only pressed his lips gently against his love's. "Are you ok?" Harvey's answer involved little to no words, and a lot of tongue. He was once again on top of Mike, kissing like they had that first night, only angrier now. Mike whimpered, and Harvey ground himself down, only to be met halfway by Mike's arching hips. He kissed down his neck, stopping to bite down on the sensitive spot at the bottom, and Mike had to bite his lip to keep for calling out. And for a moment, Mike was put back in his dream.
"Mike, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Mike's heart nearly stopped as he turned around from his place leaning against a tree in the field. His eyes went wide and his face went white. "Louis!" He exclaimed, warping the man in a bear hug. "What happened to you?" He demanded.
Louis blushed. "I had a little heart issue, not a big deal, I'm fine now." He smiled warmly.
"Not a big deal? Louis what happened?"
"Minor heart attack, but the doctor says I'm fine. I'm not even on any serious heart meds."
Mike had his hands on the man's shoulders, refusing to let go as he let his mind embrace the fact that he now knew two of his friends were alright. "Harvey's here." He told him finally, finding his voice. "He was assigned as my new roommate."
Louis' face ~Litt Up. "Harvey? He's alright? Where is he?"
"In the field playing soccer," like the crew did on most pleasant afternoons.
"Oh, and Mike, I should tell you. I got a new roommate too. I was going to try to trade to get you back, but you probably want to be with Harvey." He was still smiling, so his roommate couldn't have been that bad... Otherwise he'd be begging to switch.
"Louis!" A voice called from behind them, and suddenly Mike's stomach dropped.
Louis new roommate trotted up to them, and stopped dead in his tracks when he was just five feet away. "Mike."
They stared at each other for a moment before they were a tangle of limbs, grabbing onto each other. Mike was sobbing into the man's neck, and the other man was doing everything in his power to keep from doing the same. Prison was about image, reputation... But he'd let Mike have his moment. No one was going to touch him if he was around.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" He asked when he could finally breathe.
The man sighed, letting go and tugging him back toward the tree, sitting them down. "It was going to be my last run." He said, lost for a second in the past. "They were cops..."
"Trevor," Mike groaned, falling forward back onto his old friend. Trevor didn't bother showing strength in that moment, he just wanted to feel Mike again, feel the safety he always seemed to carry with him.
"How've you been, Mike? How long have you been in here?" Trevor asked, voice tight against the held back tears. Louis sat quietly beside them, letting them catch up.
"It was rough in the beginning, but Harvey's made friends..."
"As much as I hate the guy..." He laughed. "I'm glad you're ok, Mike. But listen," he pulled back. "From now on, I'm looking out for you. Got it?"
Mike laughed, his first real laugh in months. "We're all in this together, Trev, let's try to make peace." It was more of a question than a statement, but Trevor didn't respond either way. He had his best friend back; he didn't care about anything else. "How long are you in for?"
"Ten."
Mike nodded, trying not to be upset that he'd be without his friend before he was even half finished his sentence. Their conversation was stopped short though when Harvey approached them, all tank top and sweat.
"I'm thinking a change in sleeping arrangements is in order." Trevor said, standing now in front of Harvey, puffing his chest and sticking his shoulders back. "You and Louis go way back, Mike will be sleeping with me." Although the double entendre was lost on Mike, Harvey heard it loud and clear.
Suddenly Mike was preventing another huge battle. From the crowds that were forming, it was clear that Trevor had plenty of friends as well – probably from years of drug dealing.
It appeared that Trevor went behind their backs to have their rooms switched, because Mike was being tugged away from Harvey that night and into a new cell. He tried to not seem so disappointed while his friend embraced him – tried to keep his mind from drifting back to sleeping next to Harvey – and tried to just be grateful he was with him. Trevor could have held a grudge – so could Mike – but Mike knew that Trevor was someone he would always want on his side.
Strangely enough, no one bothered them when they woke up in the same bed, despite the cautious looks they received from the other inmates. Trevor didn't seem too concerned as well, despite always managing a cool indifferent mask when in front of others. Still, Trevor didn't appear to mind keeping up their usual touchiness in front of the rest. He always seemed to be leaning on Mike somehow, whether he was lying across him in the field and leaning with his arm lazily thrown across his shoulders in the cafeteria. Silently, Mike was almost relieved that he hadn't seen Harvey all day. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to look for him; it just went back to not running into each other, just like it had been before they became roommates.
Mike had never joined in the sports in the field before; not liking how rough and gruff all the players were, but when Trevor invited him to join, he immediately stood and walked into the field, bracing himself against a killer soccer ball. Trevor also seemed to be a much better trainer than Harvey – not that Harvey had pushed him very hard – as in just a few weeks, Mike was showing some real muscle growth.
He almost hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd seen Harvey until he really looked himself in the mirror. He was built. Not quite as built as Trevor or Harvey... but he had really packed it on.
"Lookin' good, bud," Trevor said, pinching his ass as he walked by him in the gym, causing Mike to yelp and jump forward – an act that would have set Harvey on edge, but didn't affect Trevor at all. How was it that Harvey's amazing charm couldn't help him here, but Trevor's immature antics got him everything?
Well... almost everything. Mike was walking with Trevor back to their cell that night when a guard caught up with him, pulling him away. "You're being moved to a different sanction." He explained; hand loose around Mike's arm, but a casual reminder that the guard was very much in charge.
"Which one?" Mike's voice was tight with panic.
"Four."
Four..? It was only an eight minute walk to the other sanction, at which point he found himself back in his old cell. "Harvey?"
Harvey looked up from his seat on the floor, eyes stone cold.
"Hey..." Mike sat in front of him, taking one of his hands in his, which was quickly grabbed away. "Harvey, I'm sorry, I tried to look for you..."
"Sure, Mike, I'm sure you and you're little boyfriend tried real hard." This wasn't Harvey. This was some imposter.
"It's not like that." Mike's tone was harder than he wanted it to be. He wanted to reassure him, not make him walk away... But nevertheless, he watched at the man climbed into the top bunk, and rolled to his side, facing away from Mike. The five minute warning came on, and then the lights went out, and at some unknown amount of time later, Mike was crawling through the dark into the bottom bunk, blinking back tears.
When he awoke to the warning bell in the morning, he was almost confused about where he was. It had been quite some time since he'd slept alone. Normally, Trevor was sprawled on top of him, and before that, he was snuggled into Harvey's side. But on this morning, he was alone.
Harvey seemed conflicted when the cell doors opened. He seemed torn between storming out, and waiting to keep an eye on Mike. It seemed he settled for both. Walking ten paces ahead of the kid, he sat with his usual group in the cafeteria, not bothering to notice when Mike took a hesitant seat beside him.
"Oh, hey, Mikey, we thought you died or somethin'." One of Harvey's friends stated, Mike gave him a small smile.
Mike remained silent while the others conversed around him, and then carefully, trying not to draw attention from anyone, slid his hand onto Harvey's knee. Harvey shook it off at once.
"I wasn't avoiding you I swear. And I had nothing to do with the switch." Harvey didn't respond.
It didn't exactly help Mike's case when Trevor found him so easily – in six weeks less time than it had taken for Mike to "find" Harvey. "Hey there." Trevor smiled down, shoving his tray between Mike and a man with a shaved head.
"Trev," Mike couldn't help the grin spreading to his face. "Guys, this is Trevor."
"Yeah, we know who he is." Someone said, and Trevor seemed fine with that.
Harvey was livid beside him, fists clenching and unclenching under the table. Mike tried to cover the closest fist with his hand, but like last time, his efforts were not appreciated. He retracted his hand, and was granted Trevor's arm over his shoulders, like most days at breakfast. He sighed, suddenly feeling like the prison slut, even though he wasn't anything close. He and Harvey had been in a relationship. Trevor was his lifelong best friend. But he knew how it looked, especially to Harvey.
Mike tried his best to stick close to Harvey that day – which was easy, now that Louis had joined his possy – and Trevor was always a step behind him. Under other circumstances, Mike would have been ecstatic.
Dinner was just as eventful between the two men as breakfast had been. Trevor was slumped over Mike as usual – and Mike wouldn't tell him off for it, Trevor hadn't done anything wrong, they'd always been that way – and Harvey hardly glanced at him. Louis seemed pretty ok with chatting with him though, for which he was grateful. Before dinner ended though, wardens approached the table and asked for Louis, Harvey, and Mike, to follow them. Mike looked at his friends, seeing their lawyer masks already slipping on, and he made a quick decision to do the same. He gave Trevor's shoulder a squeeze as he got up though, but wouldn't look down to see what his eyes said.
"Get in." They shoved them into the back of a car, and then they were driving. Louis did not look thrilled. Harvey's mask was firmly in place; the one that Donna had shown to Mike, explaining Harvey's I don't want you to know I have emotions face. Louis eventually hung his head into his hands, trying to think. It was at that time that Harvey finally gave in; he pressed his hand down onto Mike's knee to stop it from furiously bouncing, and then sighed and pulled him to the bench on the other side of the car, draping an arm over his shoulder. The drive remained silent.
They arrived after an hour in an underground parking lot. Mike barely had a change to look around, scout out his surroundings, before he was being shoved into a black face bag. From the struggling sounds behind him, he could tell he wasn't the only one. They were cuffed, and dragged into an elevator. Eventually they were sat in chairs, and the bags were removed, and then the cuffs.
"Oh my god."
"Donna."
"Mike."
"Rachel?"
"Harvey."
"Oh my god, Louis."
"Jessica..."
After they'd each said at least one other person's name, the shock began to wear off, and a whole new idea began to set in. This was not looking good.
"Ladies, gentlemen." A man said, entering the strange room in a suit that – by the looks of it – Harvey did not admire in the slightest. "I suppose you're all wondering why you've been brought here." There was no response from the group. "It's because you're the best."
"What?" Rachel was the first to speak, eyes squinted in disbelief.
"Mhm, that was not lost on us, and – oh don't worry you're not in trouble – we'd like to hire you."
"Fine." Mike spoke up, voice hard.
"Fine? Mr. Ross, you don't even know what the job is yet..."
"I only have one condition."
"Name it." The man said with a kind smile that reached his eyes.
"Get Trevor out of prison." The expressions that past from each person at the table was like a mirror.
"Is that all?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"What's the job?"
The man chuckled, Mike tried to brush a finger across Harvey's thigh; this time he didn't flinch away. Relieved, he pushed further, but before he could put his hand down, it was met with Harvey's own hand, tightly clenched around his own. He looked up at him, but the cool expression was set, unyielding.
"Right, right, I forget that you're all lawyers here." He chuckled as if it were a joke. Maybe it was. "Let's get right down to business."