Some days, his mother wouldn't remember to pick him up after baseball practice, and so he would sit in the dugout, ashamed as his coaches waited on that Specter kid.
He'd come home shortly after, when the sun would fall and coach would be tired of waiting. It always ended the same, with him stepping into the foyer of his house, hearing the bed creaking upstairs, being fully aware that his dad was still at work.
"Harvey."
He shakes his head away from deep thought and sees his fiery secretary leaning into his office by the sealed glass entrance.
"What do you need?"
"Are you sure about him," Donna asks, slipping in, feeling more confident from his tone.
"Don't you think it's a little too late," He replies wryly.
"I like him."
He sighs, realizing there is a point to all of this. "But."
"He's not a toy," She finishes, bright orange-red hair falling on her pale shoulders. "You can't throw him away in the attic when you're done playing with him."
"That's not-" He presses his lips together and looks away, to the view of the New York skyline.
"What?"
"You wouldn't understand," He finally says.
There's a first time for everything he supposes.
.
.
.
Making senior partner hasn't eased his workload. Jessica barged into his office the other night with a new case. She urged him to be careful, explaining that this one was more complex than the usual. He initially rolled his eyes feeling as though that is always the circumstance with her, but after reading through the files, he sees what Jessica was talking about. Maybe the kid's brain can be useful for this one.
"Donna!"
She pokes through the door, one brow arched. "You rang."
"Call Mike and tell him to come to my office," He tells her, fingers hovering over the laptop.
"Are you sure," She asks, slight hesitation straining in her voice. "The associates should be having lunch in five minutes."
"He can have lunch in here," He replies and stares back at the laptop screen, finishing up an email.
"Harvey."
He looks back up, losing his patience. "What?"
"Never mind, I'll call him," She says before heading back to her desk.
Louis and his ridiculous rules can go to hell for all he cares. They're in a professional corporate environment, and he doesn't give a shit about making sure the associates bond and grow with one another.
The kid arrives within a few minutes of his conversation with Donna, still looking out of place. It's going to take him a while. No one goes straight to the top like Mike has. He has zero experience in the court of law, just academic classes and a special brain, which truly equates to nothing when working for Pearson Harden.
He sees him wait outside, and lift his hand across. He rolls his eyes and gestures him in.
"When you get a call from me, just fucking come in," He says, rising to his feet and buttoning up his jacket. He turns around to looks out the window, bright sun reaming through. "I need you to look through that blue folder on the table."
Mike sits down on the leather chair and flips open the folder.
He turns around, hands in the pocket of his slacks. "Have you had lunch?"
"Uh, no." Mike shakes his head, and swallows hard.
"Donna!"
She comes through, confident as ever. "Yes Harvey."
"Why don't you order us some take in," He suggests.
"What would like," She asks, lips curling slightly.
"You already know the answer to that." He smirks, and she meets it with her own.
She leaves just as quickly as she entered, hips swaying.
"You guys have quite the connection," Mike notes, forehead creased.
He turns his attention to Mike and presses his lips in displeasure.
Mike shits uncomfortably. "Right, so about this case."
"Have you heard of the Lancaster Group," He asks, testing the waters of Mike's knowledge.
"Yeah, they're conglomerate holding company, and very good if I may add," Mike answers, placing his foot over his knee. "But they're being investigated for insider trading."
"Good." He nods in approval, circling around. "We're representing them."
"What?" Mike throws his hand up. "Harvey, you know they did it right."
He glares, annoyed the kid hasn't let him even finish.
"Sorry."
"Anyways, that's only the first layer." He stops and faces Mike. "Jeff Richards left them for Goldman, but not before leaving them with a fuck you."
A crease forms in-between Mike's brows. "What do you mean?"
"He's the star witness," He tells him and shakes his head. "But that's not the problem."
"What is?"
"Jeff's dead," He says.
Mike leans back into the chair, wide eyed, "Shit."
"Yeah, now we're facing two charges so saddle up kid, this is your chance to shine in the majors."
"Harvey, they probably did it," Mike protests, faces riddled of disbelief.
"That's not my concern, and it isn't yours anymore," He says sternly, leaving Mike to nod.
Finally, he's starting to learn.
.
.
.
They head to the scene of the crime, a penthouse in the Upper West Side. The victim was murdered in bed, stabbed, not shot. He has a hard time imagining Lancaster sending someone to stab Jeff to his death. Not only that, but a hitman would have trouble getting past security, all the way up to the 51st floor.
"This is gruesome," Mike says, looking away.
He can still smell the blood, it's fresh as the pool of red is spread across the pearl white bed sheet.
"Look at everything in great detail so we can build a case, like the two glasses of alcohol on the bed stand. He had somebody over and I have a hard time believing someone Lancaster sent to kill Jeff was having drinks with him."
"That's a plausible theory," He hears a woman's voice behind him.
Mike jumps back, while he cooly turns around and stares at Mike in disappointment.
"Sorry," Mike mutters, hand on his chest.
He takes her in, and he's at a loss of breath. She's drop dead gorgeous. Her silk maroon gown falling to the floor, and accentuates her curves seamlessly. She has her chestnut hair straightened, falling on her creamy shoulders, while one side is behind her ear, displaying the lengthy sparkling earing just dropping above her shoulder.
He meets her doe eyes, having a hard time comprehending how perfect her nose is. "Hey there."
"Rebecca Barclay, Jeff's lawyer," She introduces, tightening the grip around her clutch.
Yeah, she just came from a party and is probably pissed to find her evening interrupted because two strangers visited her client's home.
He's actually heard of her before and there aren't many that have caught his attention. He didn't' picture someone so elegant and beautiful when he heard the terms shark thrown around. She must actually be representing Goldman Sachs becasue he recalls her working in Corporate Law.
"And you are?"
He looks at Mike, who stares back at him. That's a first. Is she really going to pretend she doesn't know who he is?
He sticks his hand out. "Harvey Specter, and this is my associate Mike Ross. We represent Lancaster."
"Well Mr. Specter, you should've seeked permission from me before coming here," Rebecca says, face hard and unbelievably difficult to read. "Is this going to be a common reoccurrence, because if so, I'll have to report it."
"No, that won't be necessary," Harvey replies, feeling like an idiot. Shit, what is going on with him. "However, after looking the scene of the crime, it's hard to picture the Lancaster being the culprit, don't you think?"
"Yes, we can agree on one thing, the board had nothing to do with this." She opens her clutch and reaches for a small circular DVD. "But we have video of Jim Rodgers and Jeff coming in together in the lobby last night. Truth be told, everyone person I've spoken to so far says Jim was the last person they saw Jeff with before his death."
Harvey breathes deeply throw his nose, jaw slacked. This is a fucking mess. Jim Rodgers is Jeff's former boss, and let's just say he basically makes the final decision on investments.
"Let me speak to my client," He requests.
"Of course, I'll be expecting a phone call in the morning," She says, as her lips curve up a tinge. It's the first time he's seem any emotion on her face.
He clears his throat and begins walking past her. "Thank you."
"What the hell was that Harvey," Mike asks under his breath as they reach the top of the staircase.
"Oh Harvey." They stop and turn around. "Just because Jeff is dead, doesn't mean Goldman is going to let this go. He left us with all the evidence we need to charge your client and we will be assisting the SEC."
He swallows hard, eyes falling on her cleavage, just before looking up to see her brow cocked up. "Good to know."
They descend down the staircase, into the elevator, and Mike won't shut up the entire time. He needs to clear his head and figure out a way to get out of this hole.
When they arrive outside, next to the town car parked by the curb, he stops and breathes into his hand. It's freezing outside.
"Harvey, what are we going to do," Mike asks in concern.
"I don't know." He's going blank honestly . "But if we don't figure out something soon, we're fucked."
This chapter was short, but I wanted to see if people would be interested in reading this fic. Obviously this isn't the only case in the story, but it's the major one. The other cases will filter through just for character development. Also, there will be romance for both guys, but that is all I will say. This is first and foremost a Harvey and Mike friendship fic.