Full Summary: Harvey Specter is a 34-year-old teacher of law at Harvard. Mike Ross is a delinquent fresh from graduating high school. (This fic is placed at the very beginning of things - ole Mikey is still using the green stuff and well, Specter lives to be victorious per usual. That never changes...) Shall feature many different types of Protector!Harvey and Awesome!Harvey, with generous amounts of bromance for all. No slash. (No romance of any kind, actually)
Hope you enjoy, virtual nutella will be doled out for reviewers! :)
Disclaimer: Yes, people, I own Suits! I know, it's shocking, yes, the pay is good...oh, no need to applaud *blush* (sarcasm, no suing please)
The day shone bright and crisp into the large, clear windows of classroom 17A.
Harvey Specter sat at his desk, tapping away at his computer, each clicking key resonating throughout the empty room.
He enjoyed being early. It almost convinced him for a second that he was alone in the world. By choice.
And he loved that, having a choice to go at it alone – and choosing it.
Indeed, independence was a wonderful thing. And now here he was, moments away from trying to impress that message upon the hundreds of kids that flooded his room every day.
Why did he do it? Harvey physically shook his head at himself, his fingers stilling for a moment over the keys. A few years, he had been moments away from becoming a lawyer – literally. And now here he was, teaching it.
Maybe it was because he didn't like being a lawyer. But Harvey knew that wasn't true. He liked being a lawyer.
But he loved being a winner. And while wearing a suit and creaming people in court won battles, teaching other people the trade of how to do so triumphed the war. That was why Harvey did it.
Harvey resumed typing again, scrolling through his computer as he summarized each student's first semester progress.
Kyle Durant. Good student, bad kid. Pretty common trait amongst kids these days, Harvey mused, and then stopped himself as he realized how aged that sounded. He quickly typed up a few lines for Durant and then moved on. He had a schedule to maintain, after all.
Harold Jakowski. Bad student, good kid. Harvey jotted something down on his laptop and continued scrolling.
Jenny Griffith. Sweet and smart, but nothing outstanding, Harvey concluded, tempted to just write that down. Kids these days needed a firm, honest opinion to keep them going. God, he sounded like his father. Harvey wrinkled his nose.
Trevor Evans. Ah. Harvey typed a little bit more for this student. Evans was intelligent, that was for sure, but Harvey wasn't sure if he was right for the job. Evans seemed to want to pursue law, but not for the reasons Harvey had wanted it. The money and fame seemed to be Evans' primary motivation, and Harvey wasn't sure if that was enough to keep the kid going if he made it into the profession.
Rachel Zane. Brilliant, and she knew it, but when it really mattered, she forgot. Something along the lines of test taking anxiety, perhaps.
Harvey's fingers paused when he came to the last name on the list.
Michael Ross.
If Harvey was writing about the student who had the most potential, Mike Ross would be at the top of his list.
But Harvey was writing about his student's efforts. And here, Mike was sadly lacking. The "aspiring" undergraduate always turned up late for class, with some sort of halfhearted excuse, and Harvey was pretty sure Mike had never turned in a homework assignment in his life. How the kid had survived until now, Harvey didn't have a clue.
Which was saying something, because Harvey always had all the clues.
Frankly, Harvey didn't know what to put down for Mike's report. He wasn't about to lie when he taught a class that advocated justice, but how could Harvey describe the truth?
Mike Ross. Lazy, cocky, young, frivolous, and more able than the principal?
(Well, more able than the other law teacher, Mr. Litt, perhaps, because the principal, Jessica, was even more able than Harvey) Because Harvey had seen the work Mike wrote for some of his in-class assignments, and they were magical. In fact, if Harvey was the type of guy who made analogies to unicorns, Mike would definitely be a unicorn. A genius unicorn that pooped law. But one that couldn't fly, because it hadn't bothered to spread its wings.
Harvey thought about that for a moment, then realized the inside of his head had just become a very sparkly place, and Harvey Specter didn't do sparkles. He did, however, do discipline – and he had come to a consensus. Harvey was going to have a little chat with Mike, and teach him a thing or two.
As ridiculous as it was to admit it, Harvey was intrigued by the delinquent. The other students, they were punctual and hardworking, yes, but Mike – Mike was interesting. He was a genius that didn't care. Harvey remembered being like that. Hell, he had been exactly like that.
The bell signaling the beginning of class rang shrilly. Harvey placed Mike's summary on a separate spreadsheet and closed his laptop. He straightened his tie (just because he wasn't a lawyer didn't mean he couldn't dress like one) and buttoned the front of his suit.
Of course, Mike would come in a few minutes late, but Harvey was willing to wait. Because as soon as the kid stepped into Harvey's classroom, the two were going to start spending a lot of time together. Harvey taught in order to win through each and every one of his students, and he wasn't about to let Mike be an exception.
However, as the first line of students began to trickle in, a small thought crept into the young teacher's mind, saying softly that the kid already was.