Mike's plan of action may not be sophisticated but it was practical - Run into Charles somehow, most likely when he was getting his morning coffee or on campus at Columbia (he'd have to scour the university website for lecture times.) There wasn't much else he could do aside from (not stalking) casually running into him at a planned out thought of Harvey cozying up with someone made Mike's thoughts turned from morose to territorial. He certainly wanted Harvey to be happy but he couldn't exactly place these feelings that were pestering him.
So when Harvey was looking over the briefs from the night before, Mike is, as usual, across from him discussing the case in great depth, except he had a lot more on his mind than the stupid publishing house case. If there's one thing Mike's good at, it is multitasking. While it was deeply satisfying to point out each fact and weakness in the case and with them practically finishing each other's sentences, his curiosity from the night before was burning a hole through his chest and he couldn't help but notice the way Harvey's shirt collar is slightly higher than usual and there were faint hand marks on the sleeve of his arms.
Harvey gulped down what looked like the last remnants of his morning coffee. Kafka. That definitely wasn't Harvey's usual coffee.
"How's the coffee?" Mike asked, during a pause of their conversation regarding the case. It definitely had to be Charles' picking. Kafka looked too fancy with the hippie font lettering and the all natural post consumer recycled fiber paper cup. Harvey only likes his from Raul's down the block and he'd been a loyal patron for over a decade.
"This?" Harvey replied, pointing to his cup. "I've had worse." He continued typing away on his laptop.
"Oh, I vaguely remember Rachel wanting to try this. Where is it at?" Mike lied, hoping he sounded convincing enough. He silently thanked Rachel for her cooperativeness.
"Just on the other side of the park" Harvey answered, still engrossed in whatever the hell he was typing on the screen.
"Right, cool. So uh, how was your hot date?" Mike asked casually.
Harvey looked up at Mike. "What the hell are you still doing here?"
"Oh come on, Harvey! That's not fair. Yesterday was different, I can tell. So… what'd you guys do? Ate foie gras while gazing at each other in some pretentious French restaurant?" Mike teased. His hand reflexively curled into a ball at the mere thought.
Harvey gave Mike an incredulous look and instead answered, "We had reservations to Torrisi but decided to go back to my condo to catch up. We cooked. Duck. And if you must know, it was prepared in a light wine sauce with a matching pinot."
"I'm not even gonna ask how you got reservations there and not gone. It's like a month out. You could have gave them to -"
"Donna? She enjoyed it very much I'm sure" Harvey answered, "And what the hell do you know about Torrisi anyway?"
"Trevor got us reservations there once when I.. uh -" Mike stammered when he saw Harvey and the humorless look on his face at the mention of his oldest friend. "Look, nevermind, just sayin'.."
Mike had obviously mumbled too long because Harvey continued, "The owner is my client. That's how I got us reservations."
It was late afternoon on Friday when Mike decided that he should take a much needed lunch break from rewriting the terms and conditions for one of their less urgent clients. He didn't understand why they couldn't write their own T&A's - it didn't need to be filled with legal jargon or lengthy bullshit their customers couldn't understand. Apparently start-up's in Manhattan have a lot of money and too much time to waste. After ordering his hot dog, Mike found a vacant bench and began eating while perusing the website of Columbia University's faculty and visiting professors directory. There were quite a few a for the Spring session including two Charles'. Mike carefully read each of their biographies and decided there was no way Harvey was dating a 65 year old Charles Thompson teaching at the Columbia Law School. Harvey didn't seem the type to have daddy issues but you never know right? He carefully took another bite of his lunch and continued reading and... there it was. Charles Egan. Visiting professor from Stanford University - a distinguished Dante scholar slated to join Columbia University for the Spring Semester as a full time Dante and Italian Studies specialist. He is part of Stanford's Alliance Program to bring together creative research in the field of Languages and Humanities.
Mike didn't realize he was holding his breath the entire time until his mind became fuzzy and lightheaded. With his curiosity peaked, he continued reading Charles' CV. Graduated from Harvard's PHD program in Italian Studies from the department of Romantic Languages and Literatures, he taught at Stanford for seven years in the Modern and Medieval Languages Department focusing on Dante and Italian Studies.
He was the lead researcher amongst the small group of Dante scholars and tenured during his tenth year at Stanford eventually becoming the youngest Dantist in his department. Mike blanched at the achievements Charles Egan had. It definitely was Harvey to date the best of the best in their field. Mike was about to close the browser on his phone before he decided to open the PDF of Charles' syllabus. There, his office hours and contact info were right on top. Good. The course that he's teaching this semester is an undergraduate course on Dante's Vita Nova to Compartive Literature in contemporary Italy. Course will be focused on the 14th Century reception of the Italian poet Guido Vavalcanti in examining how Dante, and Boccaccio and how their works compare to contemporary Italian Literature.
Okay, well, at least he found his office hours and email, right?
Mike put his phone back in his jacket pocket and proceeded to go back upstairs. He was left wondering how Harvey and Charles had time to see other, let alone date with the amount of focus they both had on their studies.
Oh well. At least Harvey was interested in men. That had to count for something.
A/N: I am not a Dante expert. Any and all flaws are my own.