Peter had just walked out the front doors of FBI Headquarters when his phone began to buzz in his pocket. As he fished it out, he could clearly make out Bobby Darin crooning, "Oh the shark bites, with his teeth dear..."
Peter let out a little laugh, as he always did when he remembered setting this particular ringtone, and flipped it open, saying, "Hey, Harvey, what's up?"
"Slight change of plans," came Harvey's voice from the other end of the line, and Peter could hear a lot of commotion in the background. "Things are completely insane here today thanks to the complete incompetence of Louis's team of associates, and my normal hour and a half lunch break has been whittled down to thirty minutes,. Unfortunately, this means the park is out - can you meet me at the office, instead? We could swing round the corner to that great little sushi place."
"Only if we can 'swing round' to that burger joint instead, since you know full well how much I hate sushi," Peter bargained, secretly pleased that, for once, he seemed to have the upper hand in the lunch negotiations.
"God, if you're anything to go by, greasy cheeseburgers must be to FBI agents what donuts are to beat cops," Harvey said with a dersive little snort. "Fine, I'll see you in a few."
Peter heard a click and the dial tone once more, and returned his phone to his pocket while mentally recalculating his route to take him to Harvey's office. One fifteen minute walk later found Peter in the wood and chrome elevator of Pearson Hardman's building, headed toward the thirty-second floor.
Peter had only made it a few steps onto Harvey's floor before he saw the one person he had been most hoping to avoid: New York's creepiest litigator, Louis Litt. Luckily for him, Louis was currently occupied sexually harrassing a distinctly uncomfortable-looking associate, but Peter knew that the second the terrified red-haired kid thought up a plausible enough excuse to bolt, Louis's attention would settle on the nearest body, which he was very much afraid would be him.
Shuddering at the memory of his previous encounters with the only man too creepy to get a date even at Pearson Hardman, Peter looked frantically around for the nearest source of cover. Break room, he thought suddenly, catching sight of it out of the corner of his eye. Bingo. He quickly dashed over to pull open the brown door labeled "Employees Open," slipping in and pulling it closed behind him.
He barely had time to let out a breath of relief before a cool, female voice asked, "Seeking sanctuary?"
"Oh," Peter said, startled and a bit embarrassed to find an attractive redhead fixing him with an amused, expressive look that gave him the eerie impression that she already knew everything about him. Since he figured lying to such a woman would be pointless and potentially dangerous, he gave a little shrug and added in way of explanation, "Louis."
"Say no more," she insisted, holding up a hand. "It's a smart man who knows when to run. I'm Donna, by the way." She extended a perfectly manicured hand to him, which he shook affably.
Suddenly, a lightbulb dinged in the back of Peter's head. "Wait, you're not the Donna, are you? Donna of, 'Oh, don't worry about it, Donna will take care of everything?' Harvey says you're absolutely indispensable, and he's not a man to give compliments lightly."
Donna laughed and agreed, "No, he certainly is not. And, let me see, you must be..." She gave him a quick once-over before concluding, "Peter Burke, Harvey's FBI buddy."
"He's told you that much about me?" Peter asked, surprised.
"Just that you worked for the FBI," Donna replied casually.
"Then how did you...?" Peter was perplexed and a little scared.
'The suit," Donna replied with a knowing smile. "It rather screams Fed, I'm afraid. One of the consequences of spending five years as Harvey's assistant - I can identify a man's profession by his suit with eighty-five percent accuracy. Reliable grey wool, moderately priced for durability rather than flamboyance, bought around three to five years ago equals FBI."
"You could do that at carnivals, make a lot of money," Peter quipped with a grin.
"I'll keep that in mind if I ever find myself short on cash," Donna shot back, before returning her attention to his personal appearance. "Now that tie interests me - lavender stripes of alternating lengths topped off with a sterling silver tie clip. Decidedly more stylish than I would expect a G-Man to be wearing."
"Oh, well," Peter mumbled, embarrassed again, "I didn't actually pick it out. They were both presents from a, um, co-worker..."
"Really?" Donna arched an eyebrow suggestively. "Your co-worker has excellent taste."
"He certainly seems to think so," Peter said dryly.
"You haven't introduced him to Harvey, I hope?"
"Oh God, I made that particular mistake last week," Peter said with a little roll of his eyes, recollecting the encounter. "It was like a meeting of the Men's Apparel Appreciation Society, only with a lot more flirting."
"That sounds about right," agreed Donna. "There's not much Harvey likes more than a handsome man in a finely turned-out suit."
"How do you know he's handsome?" Peter asked, realizing a second too late that he probably should have phrased that differently.
"The length of your pause before you decided to call him a co-worker," Donna replied. "Definitely handsome."
"Oh, I don't think of Neal like that," Peter interjected quickly, "I mean, sure, he's attractive, in an old Hollywood glamour sort of way, and, yeah, theoretically if we hadn't already met, and I saw him at a bar, then maybe..." It occurred to Peter that this was a distinctly counter-productive line of reasoning, and he finished with a slightly panicked, "But it's really not like that!"
Donna cut off his rambling by placing a firm hand on the lapel of his suit. "Another consequence of working for Harvey," she said quietly, "Is that I am very, very discrete." She leaned forward a little to whisper, "Your secret's safe with me."
Though he was still not entirely sure exactly which secret she meant, Peter nevertheless felt an inexplicable sense of relief as he said, "Thanks, Donna."
"You are very welcome, Agent Burke," Donna said, smoothing the front of his suit before slipping her arm through his and asking, "Now, shall I take you to go see Harvey?"
Seeing Peter's hesitation and seeming to read his thoughts, Donna said easily, "Don't worry about Louis. I've worked very hard to make sure he is properly terrified of me - and my ability to cry on cue - so you'll be fine as long as you stick close."
"I can see why Harvey is so enamored of you," Peter said gratefully, opening the door for Donna before immediately tucking his arm through hers once more. "You have an answer for everything."
"It is my job," she reminded him as they wended their way through the halls of Pearson Hardman toward Harvey's posh office.
"It just occurred to me," Peter said suddenly, "Why haven't I met you before? I've picked Harvey up for lunch here at least three or four times."
"Ah, but you see," Donna murmured conspiratorially, "One of the perks of being so very indispensable is that Harvey lets me take the same lunch hour he does. I'm only here today because Louis's gaffe on the Perkins merger means that we're all hands on deck for the next few days."
"That explains it, then," said Peter with a nod.
"How are you sure you've never met me?" Donna asked, baiting him a little bit. "You could have just forgotten."
"You, Donna, are not a woman any man could ever forget," Peter said gallantly.
"Why, if I didn't know better, Agent Burke, I'd say you were flirting with me," Donna teased, though she looked distinctly flattered by the compliment.
"Oh, believe me," Peter said dryly, "If I were flirting with you, you would know by the profuse sweating, garbled sentences, and unnecessarily loud speaking volume I would be using."
"That bad, huh?" Donna asked sympathetically.
"Worse," Peter replied, "I'm only telling you the least embarrassing parts."
Donna let out a laugh and was about to reply when a cute, lanky guy in his mid twenties came running up to them and asked breathlessly, "Donna, can you please check this subpoenas for me? If I've done them wrong again, I think Harvey might actually kill me this time."
"Oh," he interjected abruptly, noticing Peter. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were with somebody. New boyfriend, Donna?" he asked, teasingly.
"Actually, he's here for Harvey," she said, and though this was strictly true, from the stricken look on the young man's face and the mischievous grin on Donna's, Peter got the feeling that she was purposefully giving him the wrong impression as her way of making it clear that if they were going to play the teasing game, she was always going to win.
"Donna here was very kindly acting as my bodyguard," Peter explained.
"And, as I see Louis nowhere in sight, it seems my services are no longer required," Donna said, glancing around to confirm. "Therefore, Peter, I feel quite confident leaving in Mike's occasionally capable hands, as I have a mountain of phone calls to return." With that, she unwound her arm from his and, after shooting him a little grin, walked briskly away in the direction of her desk.
"Thanks a lot, Donna," Peter called after her, before turning his attention back to the young man, who still looked distinctly unhappy.
"Harvey and I are just friends," Peter interjected quickly, in an attempt to put his new acquaintance out of his misery. "I'm only here to take him to lunch. Peter Burke," he said, extending his hand toward the other man.
"Oh!" The young man's face immediately brightened, and he shook Peter's hand enthusiastically. "I'm Mike Ross, Harvey's new associate."
"Nice to meet you, Mike," Peter said, giving him a surprised once-over. He had expected Harvey's new hire to have the looks and arrogance of an Italian movie star. While Mike was certainly attractive, Peter placed him distinctly on the "cute" rather than "hot" end of the spectrum. He would definitely be asking Harvey at lunch when "adorable" and "eager-to-please" became his type.
After he had finished automatically assessing Mike's attractiveness, Peter's attention suddenly shifted to what he was wearing. "Wait a minute, that suit -"
"Yes, I know," Mike interrupted with a dejected sigh, raising his hands against the perceived attack. "I have been told by no fewer than seven people today that it is a crime against fashion and, according to one particularly vehement prosecutor, 'anyone with eyes.' Never fear, I plan on burning it the second I get my first real paycheck."
"No, it's great!" Peter said sincerely, "Let me guess - Sal's Suit Barn down on 47th and Lex?"
Mike stared at him for a few moments, sure Peter was just messing with him. "You...know...Sal's Suit Barn?"
"Of course I know Sal's!" Peter scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "God, I didn't buy a suit from anywhere else until the day my boss gave me a not-so-subtle ultimatum and a gift card to Nordstrom's. Hey, does Sal still have that monkey with the eyepatch who watches you when you try on the suits?"
"Oh, Mr. Peeps? He totally does!" Mike's eyes lit up again as he continued with a little shudder, "Man, that little guy gives me the creeps."
Peter nodded in fervent agreement. "Still, you can't beat five suits for three hundred dollars."
"Now he throws in a toaster if you buy ten," Mike informed him eagerly.
"Really?" Peter asked, interested. "Well, that's new. I might just have to stop by later, for old times' sake, not to mention I do need a new toaster..."
"Wait a second," Mike said, looking suddenly doubtful, "You're really a friend of Harvey's?"
"Trust me, sometimes I have a hard time believing it myself," Peter said with a little laugh.
"No, absolutely not, this is not happening," came an authoritative voice from behind them. Peter spun around to see Harvey striding purposefully in their direction, his eyes switching between Peter and Mike. "Peter, I will not allow you to poison my associate's mind with your horrifying wardrobe habits. It's too late for you, and I've accepted that, but there may still be some hope for him."
"Harvey, he really wasn't - " Mike began to explain, looking a bit anxious.
"And you," Harvey barreled on, turning his attention to Mike, "are supposed to be finishing those subpoenas, not chatting up my friends in the hallway."
Mike turned bright red as he said, "No, I - I wasn't chatting up anyone - I mean, Peter and I were just...er...I filled out the subpoenas!" he finished hurriedly, thrusting them at Harvey.
Harvey regarded him suspiciously, but took the papers Mike was waving in front of him and skimmed them. "Well," he said finally, looking up, "Congratulations, Mike. You now seem to have reached a paperwork competency level equivalent with that of an only mildly concussed first year law student. I suppose that's progress."
"Oh," Mike said, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, "Umm...thanks?"
"No time for celebrating," Harvey continued briskly, "Thanks to Louis's utter bungling of the Perkins merger, we are all on red alert until this thing is fixed. I'm going to need you at my place tonight to look over the contracts for something, anything we can use. Be there by ten o'clock sharp and bring coffee. It's going to be a long night."
Peter watched a range of emotions pass over Mike's face - surprise, apprehension, excitement - as he took in Harvey's instructions and asked hesitantly, "Your place?"
"Donna will give you the address and the number of my limo service," Harvey said impatiently. "For now, go over those company bylaws with a fine-tooth comb, and highlight anything you find out of the ordinary. I know how much you like doing that," Harvey finished with just the hint of a smile.
Mike grinned at this and said, "Yes, sir!" before darting off to find his highlighter, calling out, "Nice to meet you, Peter!" as he ran off.
"You, too, Mike," Peter shouted after him.
"Well, now that you've finished monopolizing my employees' time, shall we go to lunch?" Harvey asked, only a little sarcastically.
Peter rolled his eyes and replied, "God, yes, I'm starving," as they both began moving toward the elevators. "So, that's the new associate, huh?"
"My, I shall sleep sounder at night knowing the city is being protected by such observant men as yourself," Harvey said mockingly over the ding signaling the arrival of the elevator.
"Since when do you spend your nights sleeping?" Peter shot back, which earned him an appreciative grin from Harvey as they both entered the elevator. "Speaking of," he said mischievously as soon as the doors had closed, "do you have anything...extra-curricular planned for your little study session tonight?"
"Honestly, Peter, you FBI boys have such dirty minds," Harvey said. "Tonight is all about work. I only chose him because he just so happens to have an eidetic memory, and I have a thousand pages of contracts to get through."
"Oh, of course, you're inviting him over to your ridiculously luxurious apartment with its panoramic views of the city to take full advantage of his...memory," Peter said skeptically. "So his lanky build and mile-wide smile have nothing to do with it, then?"
"Well," Harvey admitted, the hints of a grin playing around the edges of his mouth, "Maybe not nothing to do with it..."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere!" Peter exclaimed triumphantly. "So you admit to being attracted to him, then?"
"Peter, I'm Harvey Specter," he said with a snort of derision. "With enough work and the right lighting, I can be attracted to anyone."
"Uh-huh," Peter said doubtfully. "And what about all this personal time you've been putting in to 'mentoring' him? I know for a fact you've never done that before."
"I just think he's a good kid who's had some bad breaks and deserves a second chance, that's all," Harvey said, looking, if Peter was not mistaken, a bit embarrassed at this line of inquiry.
"You realize he worships you, right?" Peter asked.
Harvey looked over with a sudden spark of intense interest, which he unsuccessfully tried to cover for by mumbling, "Well...you know...who doesn't?"
Peter took in the sight of Harvey staring pointedly at his shoes before exclaiming gleefully, "You care! You care that he likes you! My God, is it even conceivable that...you know, I think it is! In a thousand years, I never would have guessed it was possible. The great Harvey Specter actually cares about someone!"
"Shut up!" Harvey exclaimed, looking around instinctively as if to check no one was listening. "I do not!"
"Do, too! Do, too!" Peter shouted, in a manner which he would admitted in retrospect may have been slightly juvenile, although not as juvenile as what he did next.
"Shut up, do not!" Harvey insisted, punching him repeatedly on the arm.
Their schoolyard fight was interrupted by the elevator reaching the lobby, and a large group of Chinese businessmen entering the elevator. The two of them made their way through the crowd, with Harvey quickly bowing his head and muttering, "Ni hao," a few times, and Peter whispering, "Do, too!" and sprinting for the door before Harvey could respond.
Peter wondered vaguely what those poor businessmen thought of a man with a badge laughing and running out a revolving door while being pursued by an irate lawyer shouting, "Do not, damn it!", but, really, he was having far too much fun to care.
