It's been a long day. The kind of day that stretches out for hours longer than should be possible and looking at the clock find only minutes have passed. The kind of day in which everything goes wrong, and nothing goes according to plan. Just another day in the office.
Mike had sworn violently and colourfully when he'd realised he was cycling home with the Preston briefs in his messenger bag, and that if Harvey found out he would absolutely blow his top. The senior partner had already shouted at Mike three times that day and threatened seriously to fire him once. It seemed that his mentor's day had been even worse than Mike's, and keeping the blonde out of trouble hadn't been on his to-do list.
And so it was that Mike turned around and cycled back into the night traffic of Manhattan, and towards Pearson Hardman, the sky already more than dark, and threatening rain. It was nearing eleven when Mike chained up his bike and took the lift up floor after floor. He hated the building at night, after nine it was usually empty save Mike, one or two other handy interns and the janitors. It was too large and too quiet. Mike had spent his life in cosy homes and small apartments, and this building was like some kind of living entity, humming, and buzzing in the day time, but dying away in the evening, large and cavernous.
Mike hardly suspected any one to still be at work, let alone Harvey after the stormy mood he had been in earlier, but as the blonde walked up the corridor, there was a soft glow seeping from the glass fronted office and pooling across the otherwise darkened passageway. Mike slowed his pace, he didn't want to seem too eager to leave if Harvey was still here, it would only end in war again; nor did he want to startle the other, given the nature of Pearson Hardman at night.
Mike rounded Donna's desk, intending to knock lightly on the glass (for once) but he stopped for a moment, to try and gauge the others current disposition. Harvey's chair was turned mostly away from his desk, probably reading something, his profile outlined in a hazy glow from his desk lamp, and the night lighting of the city behind him. His jacket was hung over the back of his chair and Mike could tell that his sleeves were rolled up, his tie abandoned also, across his desk. It must have been a long day indeed, for the great Harvey Specter to relinquish his five hundred dollar silk from around his neck. Harvey shifted a little as Mike watched him, feeling a little like a voyeur, but enjoying being able to see him like this, undone, relaxed, his mask momentarily slipping. It felt more real than the Harvey he spoke to most days, felt human.
Harvey's head fell back softly against the chair. Not reading then. The brunette's eyes are closed and Mike thinks for a moment that he's sleeping and puts one flat palm on the door to walk in and wake him. He stops. The step forward, the slight change in angle and Mike can see more clearly now, see why Harvey is so relaxed. His shoulder is in profile moving in practiced motion, up and down; unhurried and easy, but unmistakeable.
Mike feels strange for a moment, thinks he should stop him, that he shouldn't be watching, and Harvey shouldn't be doing this, not in his office. It's unprofessional. He can't look away however, and finds himself moving slowly and silently down the corridor to see Harvey from a better angle. Its clearer now, the lack of tension in Harvey's face, worry lines and currently perpetual frown seemed to have melted from his features for the moment, slung perhaps across the desk with his tie and empty tumbler from his minibar. Mike is stricken once again by how normal this all is, how strangely it makes his feel more connected to Harvey because he wasn't a god, or the law itself. Harvey was a man just like Mike, who got stressed and had bad days and had to find himself some solace, some release, somehow. Mike wouldn't deny him that. If the blonde's upbeat attitude and words of comfort couldn't bring that serene expression to Harvey's face, then he wouldn't burst in, stop this, risk ruining anything. It was normal, easy, simple. An act of human expression. It made Mike smile.
He watched a little longer as Harvey continued onwards, no desperation to his movements, just a slight increase in speed, barely there and a small arch in his back, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Mike took it as his moment to exit, leaving the briefs on Donna's desk.
He rode home in the rain, the cool water seeming to wash over him rather than drench him. He felt a relief and a cleansing, though he couldn't say why.
It wasn't until he was lying in bed two hours later that his eyes shot open suddenly, questioning for a moment how surreal the evening had been, how his shower on returning home had yielded the most freeing and relaxing release he could remember from his own hand. He smiled softly and settled back into the duvet. That question could be answered another day perhaps, for now he was happy that they would both live to face another day, and face it with a new confidence in the wake of their comfort.