Title: Mike, the Lamest Werewolf Ever

Part: 2 of 3

Word Count: ~5,300 / 16,500

Warning: Slash. Naughty words. Unintentional self-harm. Fluff. Some angst here in Part Two.

AN: I've only seen a few episodes of Suits, so if you think my rendition of the boys is OoC, you may be right. Concrit is welcome, but be warned, that means constructive criticism, and if you're being an asshat ("I hate your face.", "Your story's stupid. Goodbye."), I will not hesitate to delete you.

All that aside, thank you for flying Air Kira, and please enjoy the fic.


"We need to tell Jessica," Harvey says as he buttons his waistcoat the next morning.

"Whu?" Mike says blearily, blinking up at Harvey from the kitchen table.

"Hurry up and finish your Cheerios," Harvey says, checking his cufflinks. "We have to get to the office early today."

"Oh. Kay. Why?" Mike says.

"Because. We have to tell Jessica that we've moved in together, or she will find a creative way to punish me for keeping important things from her," Harvey says. "I'd rather not have to attend another sexual harassment seminar taught by Handsy Dave."

"Oh. Okay," Mike says, then finishes his cereal. Harvey makes a note to always approach Mike with terrifying ideas before he's had coffee.


Mike is much less calm by the time they walk in the door, and Harvey is pretending to be smug. Though, truthfully, Harvey completely sympathizes with Mike's reaction. Jessica is managing partner for very good reasons, one of which is her frankly frightening nature.

Harvey's not scared of Jessica Pearson. Really. He's just smart.

Harvey can hear Mike taking deep breaths, and he gives the puppy a sharp-teeth grin before breezing past Jessica's secretary and into her office. Jessica glares at them both and motions distractedly for them to sit down, then continues with her phone conversation. She's not even really talking to the person on the other end, just a few 'mm-hm's and 'ah's. It sounds like Mike has stopped breathing altogether, or might be doing it so shallowly that the other predator in the room can't hear him.

Harvey smirks to himself. He can appreciate a good power play.

Jessica finally hangs up, places her cell precisely on her desk, and gives Harvey a capital-L Look. Harvey smiles benignly back.

When it becomes obvious that Jessica isn't going to be the one to speak first, Harvey sighs and starts,

"As I'm sure you may have heard by now, Mike is now living with me. He - "

Jessica cuts him off with a wave of her hand, somehow making it look regal instead of impatient.

"Harvey. Mike," she says, giving them each another Look, "As of yet, your... personal relationship has yet to interfere with your working one. As long as that remains unchanged, I see no reason to invoke certain company policies. I'm given to understand that your relationship is not coercive, in which case it is none of my business as your superior."

Jessica finishes, and sits back to give them time to think that over. How nice of her. Mike is looking more relaxed, but Harvey has already wrapped his head around what she's casually insinuating.

"Well. That's good to hear," Harvey says, giving her another smirk. Jessica just raises an eyebrow in return.

Mike starts to say something, but Harvey cuts him off, saying,

"Thanks for being so understanding."

Harvey touches Mike on the shoulder and turns to give him an insincere smile.

"Donna has our next case ready for us. Go on, I'll be right behind you," he says. Mike just nods and scampers off, clearly happy to escape. Harvey amuses himself for a moment by imagining Mike's face when he tells him their boss thinks they're fucking, then turns back to Jessica.

"Alright. Now tell me why we're getting a free pass. Wasn't it you who threatened me with a sexual harassment seminar if I broke the no-fraternization policy? I believe it went, 'I don't care how leggy the secretary or associate or partner is, I will have you by your balls'?"

Harvey is surprised when Jessica stays quiet instead of joining in their usual banter. She just brings her elbows up to rest on her desk, and rests her chin on her laced fingers. She doesn't say anything, just studies him. Just as Harvey's starting to feel really disturbed, she sighs and sits back in her chair.

"Harvey, I've never seen you last this long in a relationship, let alone have someone move in with you. Mike... makes you better than you are, at times, and I admit that I'm curious to see what happens," she says. She sounds amused.

"I'm so glad my personal life is so entertaining for you," Harvey says drily. Jessica just chuckles.

"Better than cable," she quips back, letting him get away with the dodge. Harvey just shakes his head and stands.

"Harvey," Jessica says, and Harvey looks up from straightening his cuffs. "Don't make me regret this."

Harvey just smirks and walks out.


"Harvey?" Mike asks the next morning over breakfast. Harvey looks up from the brief he's perusing. "Have you seen any of my skinny ties? I can't find any."

"Huh," says Harvey, looking back to the paper in his hands. "They must have gotten lost in the move."

"What do you mean, they got lost in the move? I put them in all in the same box, clearly labeled TIES, and you said the moving company you recommended was trustworthy. How can they have disap -"

Mike stops talking, finally catching the look on Harvey's face. Mike's brow furrows and his mouth turns down, and Harvey can't hold back his smirk any longer.

"Harvey," Mike finally says. "Did you steal my skinny ties?"

"No, of course not," Harvey says. Mike still looks dubious, so Harvey elaborates. "The word 'stealing' implies that I would want them, for any reason. The correct phrase is, 'set them free of this mortal coil.'"

Mike just stares at him blankly. Then his eyes narrow.

"This... means war," Mike says. Harvey grins, spreading his hands.

"Bring it on, puppy," Harvey says.


The morning after that, Harvey stumbles into his bathroom, then into his wonderful state-of-the-art massage shower, then back out into the steamy room. His eyes are still mostly closed, as Harvey's pretty terrible at waking up. He's operating on autopilot, simply going through his routine, reaching for his shaving cream... His shaving cream is gone. Or, rather, it's not where it's supposed to be. It's five feet away, on the other side of the second sink.

This confuses Harvey. The cleaning service knows better than to mess with Harvey's products and the exact placement of them.

Someone's been in here. And since Mike is the only one Harvey's brought home recently...

Harvey blinks and finally looks up, clearing the last of the sleep and shower steam from his eyes.

'Hello Harvey' is written in surprisingly neat cursive, with Harvey's shaving cream, on Harvey's previously pristine bathroom mirror, presumably by Harvey's punk associate. Surrounding the message are swirls and whorls of shaving cream, tooth paste, and hair gel. Harvey allows himself one brief snarl.

It, as they say, is on.


Mike's not nervous. Honest. What's to be scared of? Harvey can't be that great a prankster. Right? 'Cause, Mike's been through some pretty epic prank wars with Trevor and Jenny, and Trevor was pretty vindictive, and Jenny just got downright creative. Mike's pretty much old hand at this by now.

Except... Mike did invade Harvey's personal territory, and he did mess up Harvey's perfectly clean bathroom, and judging by just how perfectly clean everything in Harvey's place is, Mike might have just crossed a line.

Also Harvey is really really ruthless.

Crap.

But, hey. It's been a week at least since the bathroom incident, and Harvey's probably forgotten all about pranking Mike. They do have a new case, and Harvey might be too busy to try and get back at Mike.

That still doesn't stop Mike from pausing outside the door to Harvey's condo and biting his lip, just like he's done every day for the past week. Then he takes a deep breath, firms his resolve, and walks through the door.

So far, so good. Mike walks briskly past the living room and the kitchen, past Harvey's bedroom, and into the guest room. It's technically Mike's now, but he's still not quite comfortable claiming it as his own. He's only unpacked a few boxes yet, and the rest are stacked up along one wall, waiting for him to have the energy to put it all away.

Except.

No they're not. All the boxes are gone. Did... Did Harvey just steal Mike's shit?

Mike's eyes are wide and he might be hyperventilating not that he can tell how much he's breathing or not breathing and, and,

Oh, hey. There's a new dresser across from the bed.

So... Harvey did something nice? ...Ha, no. So what did he do?

Mike approaches the dresser with all the caution of a hazmat technician, brain feverishly selecting and rejecting possible retaliations. After a moment he's left standing in front of a harmless dresser, glaring at it like an idiot. Mike sighs in frustration, rubs a hand through his hair, and pulls one of the drawers open. Or tries to.

On closer inspection, Mike can see that the drawers are taped closed with packaging tape. Mike rips off enough strips to get the drawer open, yanks at the handle, and,

"Haha, Harvey," Mike mutters. Everything that was in the drawer has fallen out, as apparently the drawer was put in upside-down. Compared to what Mike had half-expected from Harvey, this is almost child's play. Mike rolls his eyes and goes to change into something more comfortable.


Okay. Maybe 'childish' was... definitely the wrong word. Because that same prank has happened every day for the last three days. Every day when Mike gets home, his room has been ruthlessly organized, and put just slightly out of place.

Finally, fed up, Mike stomps out of his room and into the living room where Harvey's sitting. Mike's only wearing a towel and a thunderous expression, but he just doesn't care, because,

"I CAN'T FIND MY UNDERWEAR, HARVEY!" Mike yells. Harvey just smirks and doesn't even look up from the book he's reading.

"And where else would they be but in the top left-hand drawer in your dresser?" Harvey asks. Mike just wants to be able to, just once, slap that stupid smirk off Harvey's face.

"Argh! They're supposed to be in a pile next to the bathroom door, so that when I wander by on my way to the bathroom in the morning, I can grab a pair. It's my system, and it works!" Mike shouts without thinking. Harvey blinks and finally looks up at him.

"...you sleep naked?" Harvey asks.

"That's not the point!" Mike says, flushed. Harvey just gives him his shark grin. "Gah! Fine! Whatever! Just stop touching my stuff!"

Harvey just chuckles and goes back to his book, the smug bastard. The rearrangement continues the same for the next two days, only now Mike's underwear is neatly folded and stacked together. Underneath Mike's bed.

Mike fumes quietly to himself, already planning his revenge.


Thus follows the Epic Prank War, including stalker clowns, hundreds of cunningly placed lollipops, and a shockingly elaborate castle gate made of Legos, which happens to block Harvey's way into his bedroom ("None shall pass!" "Goddammit, Mike!").

It all comes to a head the day that Harvey hides all of Mike's clothes except for a pinstriped pencil skirt, dressy red blouse, black stiletto pumps, and a note that says, 'Do you cede defeat, sir?'

Mike can't help but laugh. He has to hand it to Harvey, the man is devious and vindictive and creative, and a worthy opponent for any roommate or prankster. And he's about to text Harvey his graceful withdrawal... when he has an idea. A hilarious, wonderful, very possibly terrible idea.

He calls Rachel instead and tells her about the prank war and his idea. Predictably, she laughs for about four minutes straight and makes Mike promise to tell her everything, then agrees to help him.


Mike arrives at work exactly on time the next day, and if Harvey was hoping to see a chagrined and defeated Mike, he is to be sorely disappointed. Mike is walking with confidence and grace in his three-inch heels, clearly expensive and tasteful clothes, and flawless makeup. Goddammit.

Someone has even managed to tame his hair so that it lies mostly flat against his head, except for a slight wave that compliments the smokey eyeshadow and smug look. And the bright, red red lipstick is really more distracting than Harvey would like to admit. God fucking dammit.

Harvey, finally unable to stand his plan gone awry and Mike's self-satisfied smirk, slinks back to his office to contemplate some form of retribution. Donna gives him the half-indulgent look she gets when she thinks he's pouting. He's not pouting. He's just going to sit at his desk, trying to get back to the case at hand.

Harvey sits down in his chair and is about to get to work, and... his chair definitely feels colder, wetter, and more... squishy than normal. What?

Harvey stands up, looks down at his chair, and... GODDAMMIT MIKE PUT WHIPPED CREAM ON HARVEY'S CHAIR. It had been covered by a piece of black cloth, but as soon as Harvey sat down, it soaked through, and into Harvey's thousand-dollar suit.

Harvey's phone buzzes, and he sees that Mike has texted, 'I have a clean pair of pants waiting for you. Ready to give up yet?' He texts back, 'Never.' Then, after a moment of thought, 'Come to my office. Now.'

A moment passes, then Mike walks in, still looking smug. Harvey is about to open his mouth, when Donna walks in right behind Mike and says,

"Do you boys never listen?"

Mike looks guilty. Harvey knows he looks shifty.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harvey lies. Donna looks unimpressed.

"Right. And Jessica didn't say anything about no flirting at the office," Donna says drily, hands on hips. "I don't care if you two have moved in together, and don't give me that look, of course I know about that, how stupid do you think I am? But - this is a business, and you are professionals, and if you don't keep your kinky power games out of the office in the future, I swear to god I will let Louis tattle on you to Jessica. Nod yes. Good. Now back to work, chop chop."

Donna then walks out, smirking to herself. Harvey wishes he had some rebuttal to her speech, but, well, he doesn't.

Mike silently hands Harvey his clean pair of pants from where he'd hidden them under a couch cushion, then walks back toward his cubicle, mumbling an apology to Donna on the way.


Mike has only just settled back into reading proofs after changing clothes and removing the make-up, and is ready to drown Donna's chastisement in legalese. But then he's forced to groan when Rachel texts him, 'We are so going for drinks later. You owe me a story.'

He'd managed to forget, in his preoccupation with a certain prank war, how intimidating (scary) Rachel can be sometimes. He just knows he's going to regret that.

There's also the fact that he hadn't been able to remove the lipstick completely, his lips were still really red, and Kyle keeps glancing at his mouth and blushing.

More importantly, though, those fucking heels gave him blisters the size of Rhode Island.

Mike's not really sure how his life got to this point.


Mike forgets that he's going out to be interrogated right up until the moment Rachel pushes him down to sit in a corner booth, shoves a shot at him, and gives him a disturbingly gleeful grin. Mike takes one look at the grin, downs the shot, and starts talking.

"So. Well. Basically, Harvey came to give me some briefs a few months ago, and yell at me in person for my monthly late act, and saw me being mugged. He was furious, and said that he didn't spend all this time and effort training me just to have to start all over, and it would be nice to have a live-in minion besides," Mike says. His face is, miraculously, completely straight. He still silently thanks the fact that the bar is poorly lit, and Rachel got here before him and is already slightly drunker than him. Small favors, but still. He's not exactly ready to out himself as a werewolf to Rachel. He's about to continue on to the subsequent prank war, when Rachel snorts and interrupts.

"Uh-huh. Because he's Harvey and can't admit that he wants you to move in with him. You sure can pick 'em, Mike," Rachel says, shaking her head. Um. Oh. So apparently Rachel was going for a different kind of 'outing' tonight. Sure. Okay. Mike can roll with that. After he finishes this drink.

Harvey had said to let people think they were dating, that it would be easier that way than trying to convince people that Harvey had suddenly grown a heart-like organ and started sort of caring for his underling. Mike's not entirely on board for this plan for various reasons that he really doesn't want to talk about, so he's not faking at all when he sighs into his (third? Fourth?) drink and downs it in one go.

"Yeah. I sure can," Mike says. Rachel looks immediately guilty.

"Aw, honey. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just, y'know. Worried about you. I mean, after your last boyfriend, you deserve someone who treats you right," Rachel says, carefully patting Mike on the shoulder. Mike blinks stupidly at her and tries to figure out who else she could possibly think he's gay for. Then he remembers another night much like this one and groans.

"Trevor wasn't my boyfriend," Mike says, furious to feel himself blushing.

"Right. Because you dragged me out to a shitty bar and got ridiculously drunk after he dumped you and skipped town, because of your codependent, unhealthy, platonic love. Suuuuure," Rachel says. Mike doesn't know how to argue with that.

"Anyway, I'm allowed to be worried about you breaking your stupid heart over a stupid guy who doesn't deserve it. 'Cause that's what friends do and stuff," Rachel says, refusing to make eye-contact. Mike feels a silly grin cross his face.

"Aww. That's so sweet! You're my bestest friend too, Rachie!" Mike says, slinging his arm across her shoulders. Rachel snorts and shoves him a little.

"Shut up."


An hour later, Rachel is laughing hysterically at Mike's story about when Harvey hired the stalker clown to follow him around, fully knowing that clowns creep Mike the fuck out. She's laughing so hard that she's snorting and choking on her own giggles, which just sets Mike off too. He nearly falls off his bar stool, but manages not to. He straightens himself, tries to straighten the rumpled mess of his suit, fails, and says,

"Well. Alright. I'd better be getting home. Some of us have work in the morning."

Rachel waves him off with a promise to make fun of his hangover the next day, and Mike starts the trek back home.

He doesn't wonder at all how he and Harvey are going to live together for the foreseeable future when they don't have the prank war to focus on. He doesn't think about how up until recent full moons, he maybe thought that Harvey thought he wasn't even worth the effort of disliking. How even then Mike had been trying (failing) to squash the stupid crush he's had since he first met Harvey. He doesn't think about it at all. He actually does quite a good job of it.


As the days go by without any sort of trick or gag, both Mike and Harvey come to realize something.

It turns out that in all the mayhem of the Epic Prank War, Mike and Harvey have actually learned to live with each other. Somehow, between pushing at each others buttons and boundaries, and learning what makes each other furious, giggly, and impressed, they've actually worked it out.

Happily, the guest room has become more Mike's Room than Harvey's Home Office with a Bed. Neither will admit that they're both relieved that Mike's wolf has accepted this place.

Ridiculously, in Harvey's opinion, they've actually become friends outside of work. They both enjoy books (Harvey owns a bunch of old Louis L'Amour westerns that he won't admit to loving, and Mike has a much-abused library card). They can just relax with each other when they both get back late from work - too late to do anything with other people, just enough time to watch a game or a movie before they pass out.

Harvey even finds himself stealing Mike's phone one night and dialing 'Jenny.' He's not even drunk when he asks her to invite Mike to coffee because he's been acting mopey and annoying. Then again, he also told Jenny that if she asks, Mike might finally tell her that thing he's been holding back. So, he's not really trying to make things easier or comfortable for Mike. He's actually being an underhanded bastard.

So, you know. Donna can just stop looking like she thinks they're just so adorable. And the smirking. She can definitely stop smirking any day now.


Mike goes out on a Saturday morning a week later, and comes back looking shell-shocked. He says, in a manner especially dazed even for Mike,

"Um. Jenny and I made up. We're doing coffee next week too. She's going to ask more questions about werewolves."

Whatever. Doesn't matter to Harvey. He just nods and goes back to reading the newspaper while Mike stares out a window.


Of course, there's still the fact that Mike is the most ridiculous werewolf ever, and they spend one night a month walking around the neighborhood with Mike prancing around like the world's most ridiculous pony.

This leads to a spot of trouble one time when Harvey's slightly slimy building manager pays a visit.

"I hope you know that there's a fee associated with having a pet in the building. It's due to other residents' allergies, you understand," says Stan or maybe Steve. "It's especially important with the large-breed dogs, you know. You've been seen walking a rather large animal, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pay the fine or find a new home for your pet."

Harvey thinks about how happy Mike had been the last full moon to just get out and play fetch over and over at the local park, and he glares perhaps harder than necessary at the other man.

"I've agreed to babysit a friend's dog once a month. I know that one day a month does not qualify me for the fee. I read the contract. And excuse me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure I've paid more than enough for you to let me do whatever I want short of murder. Goodnight," Harvey says, then slams the door shut. Harvey feels a small, petty thrill curl through him.

Maybe it is a little bit satisfying to defend the puppy from stupid scumbags. Though he still wishes that Donna would stop smirking so goddamn much.


The next time Louis tries to bully and wheedle Mike into doing some work for him, Harvey is standing just outside the associate's bullpen, waiting for the moment when he has to jump in and yank Mike away from the other man. He can't decide whether or not he's looking forward to the ensuing lecture about doing Harvey's work and no one else's.

But Mike just says calmly, "Sorry, I'm working on something for Harvey," and then completely ignores Louis. Louis looks shocked, then stalks back to his own office, fuming. Harvey observes quietly, pleased and amused. He leaves before Mike can see him.


Later that day, Mike comes home to find a single skinny tie laying across his bed. He valiantly tries to push down the upwelling of affection, but can't stop himself from smiling dopily and stroking the tie before putting it away.


Oh, and on full moon nights Mike-the-puppy always ends up sleeping in Harvey's bed with him.

What?


Four and a half months after Mike moves in, Harvey gets an invitation to a dinner party.

That in itself is not that unusual. Harvey's success tends to attract social climbers, debutantes, and others of similar ilk. Harvey himself barely even glances at it, and starts to throw it away after seeing that the date of the party is the next full moon.

But then a name catches his eye, and he gives it a second look. It's signed,

I look forward to your presence,

Constance Randall

Constance Randall. The Constance Randall. The Constance Randall that politicians, artists, and those same social climbers and debutantes would literally kill to impress. In certain circles it's said that if Constance Randall doesn't know who you are, you aren't worth knowing.

Now, Harvey doesn't usually let anyone or anything interfere with the health of his ego. He usually could care less about what some old society hag thinks about him. But the fact is, the opportunity to go to one of Constance Randall's dinner parties is an opportunity to meet and schmooze with undeniably lucrative potential clients. People Harvey would have to spend a lot less time and effort wooing if he could show that Constance Randall knew his name.

If he can seduce even one of those people away from their current legal support, it would be a huge coup for himself and the firm. In which case, the invitation in Harvey's hand is worth its weight in gold.

There's nothing stopping him from gleefully showing the invitation to Donna so she can make all the arrangements, except...

It's the night of the full moon. He can't leave Mike alone on the full moon. Except...

Harvey's not just the best closer in the city, he loves the thrill of what he does and how skillfully he does it. And Harvey really, really wants to bring in a truly impressive client. The looks on Louis and Jessica's faces alone... And Mike's really settled in here. Mike-the-wolf really seems to love this place, and there hasn't been a single instance of the wolf hurting himself in the past four months. Granted, that might be because Harvey's taken him walkies for the past five, but...

Mike will just have to understand.


Harvey waits until they've gotten home from work the next day to ask.

"Mike," Harvey says, studiedly casual.

"Yeah?" Mike asks distractedly. He's simultaneously pulling off his tie and peering into the fridge, probably looking for the liter of Mountain Dew that Harvey exiled behind the no-pulp orange juice.

"I'm planning on going out this full moon. That's... alright?" Harvey asks and nearly winces. He hadn't meant to make that a question.

Mike turns around and stares blankly at Harvey for a moment, then shrugs and turns back to the fridge.

"Sure. Should be alright," Mike says absently. He continues to rummage around the inside of the fridge. Harvey blinks and decides he feels... relieved that Mike agreed so quickly.

"I've been invited to a dinner party hosted by Constance Randall. It's an impressive opportunity. Could lead to us getting some important clients," Harvey finds himself explaining. He's not sure why.

"Sounds cool," Mike says, turning around with Mountain Dew in hand. He gives Harvey a half-smile that looks convincing enough, but...

"You're sure?" Harvey asks, again without meaning to. Mike just rolls his eyes.

"Honestly, Harvey. I know you think I'm a helpless puppy most of the time, but I'll be fine. I swear," Mike says. Harvey scrutinizes his expression while he gets down a glass and pours himself some of his disturbingly colored drink. Mike catches his stare and asks, "What? You want some of this?"

Harvey mentally shakes himself. He's being ridiculous. If Mike says he's going to be fine, he'll be fine. Harvey doesn't even know why he started worrying to begin with.

Harvey waves off Mike's offer and goes to pick out the suit he's going to wear to the dinner. Though maybe he should have Rene fit him for a new one...


Harvey thought he was worried before. He'd thought the shifting, uneasy feeling from earlier was worry. Maybe it was.

What he's feeling now must be terror. His gut keeps clenching and his mind keeps flipping back to Mike and the first full moon they spent together. He can't stop thinking about it, and he honestly thinks he might be about to throw up.

He's managed to sit through the actual dinner part of the dinner party and make some promising contacts, though he's itching to leave. He knows that very few people would be able to see how unfocused he is.

Which is lucky, because he's about ready to bang his head against the nearest wall. Why did he think leaving Mike alone on the full moon was a good idea? Why? How could he forget, even for a second, the sight of Mike tearing his own flesh? How could he forget that he knows that Mike is more guarded than he lets on?

Of course Mike said he'd be alright. Of course Harvey couldn't see past his own plans to actually use his fucking brain.

And of course now is when he realizes this.

Thankfully dinner is already over, and he's spent a polite enough amount of time socializing. He texts Ray then makes his excuses, claiming a family emergency, and he's not even lying.

He doesn't feel better even when he's racing back toward home.


When he gets home, the place is quiet. Harvey would like to be happy about that, but he doesn't see Mike anywhere. He doesn't see Mike, and he never should have left him alone.

Mike isn't in the living room. He's not in the kitchen or his bedroom or bathroom. Harvey still has that sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and it only gets worse when he pushes open the door to his bedroom and can finally hear the whimpering.

Harvey moves reluctantly toward the sound, and ends up crouching so that he can see underneath his bed. What he sees just about breaks his heart.

The wolf is curled up, twisted in tight against himself, and he has his foreleg caught between his teeth. He freezes and goes quiet at the sight of Harvey. Harvey flinches, and the wolf's eyes slide off him and to the floor. He drops his foreleg, but only so he can get at the other one. It takes Harvey a moment to realize that he and the wolf are both shaking. Harvey almost can't stand to look at Mike.

His muzzle and paws are covered in blood, and he looks so scared.

"Oh god."

Harvey clenches his jaw and his fists, makes himself look at what has happened here. Then he takes a deep breath and spends the next forty minutes coaxing Mike out from under the bed and onto his lap. He strokes him for the rest of the night.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again." Harvey wouldn't be surprised if his promises no longer hold any weight with Mike. That's okay. Harvey's just done lying to himself.


When Harvey wakes, he and Mike are wrapped around each other on the bed, and Mike is naked. Neither moves away.


CONTINUED IN PART 3


Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you.