Cleary, I don't own Suits, but thanks USA Network, for not suing the pants off me!

Mike was desperate to get away from the increasingly off-putting life and times of Ian Williamson. He hadn't found anything legally damning, yet, but things were starting to get weird. Like thousands of dollars on anthropomorphic adult sized animal costumes weird. It had been surprisingly easy to get Williamson's accountant to hand over an incredibly detailed list of tax returns, receipts, and a well diversified stock portfolio. Mike guessed it had a little something to do with Ian making the man's skin crawl.

His words, not Mikes.

When his phone buzzed on the corner of his desk, he practically snatched it.

Lobby, ten minutes.

Harvey was succinct, and something in the bottom of Mike's stomach gave a small twist. He was clearly being allowed to go to the client meeting, so perhaps Harvey had fallen to A Few Good Men levels of anger. Mike could handle the threat of a court martial.

Still, he felt unsettled as he packed his bag and moved away from his desk.

"Where are you going?" Louis was hovering over Harold, criticizing something trivial when his eyes flicked up to Mike.

"Client meeting with Harvey. Don't worry, I'll finish your busywork," Mike assured him without breaking his stride.

Harvey barely glanced up from his phone when Mike met him in the lobby.

"Ready?" he asked dryly, his eyes lingering on Mike's hair and what Harvey knew could not be a coffee stain on Mike's tie.

Mike wanted to roll his eyes, but instead focused on identifying Harvey's smirk from his own personal "Pick a Mood" chart.

Mildly exasperated, perhaps peeved, but with underlying amusement.

"Ready."

Ray was waiting for them at the curb, and they didn't speak until the town car was pulling smoothly into traffic.

"We're going to have to keep the meeting short. I've had to shuffle some things, and if we can't get this wrapped up by 2, I'll have Donna reschedule something for Friday. You'll handle it." Harvey imparted all of this information nonchalantly, still absorbed in his phone.

"Shuffle some- I'll handle it? Harvey we're trying to remove the President and CEO of one of Pearson-Hardman's biggest clients! While, you know, keeping under wraps that the guy's been running the company while off his goddamn rocker for the last nine months. You budgeted an hour? Have you lost it completely?" Mike was flabbergasted, but Harvey just quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you finished?" The smirk no longer held any indication of amusement, "I won't be around Friday so Friday's meetings are now every afternoon all week. You keep telling me you're ready for the adult table. Now you might have to prove it."

"Where are you going?" Mike blurted before he could stop himself, though he wisely chose not to push his luck with a retort about the kid's table probably being more fun anyway. Harvey slanted a look at him.

"L.A. for Angie's movie thing," he answered dismissively, accompanied by an impatient flick of his wrist as his phone intoned more messages.

"You're dropping the biggest case we've worked on in months in my lap to go to L.A. for a movie premier?" Mike knew the disgust was evident in his voice, and he didn't care. Harvey Specter didn't leave the firm's reputation, or the law, up to chance to swan around with "celebrities."

"Your lack of specificity astounds. I may not be dropping it on you, in all likelihood I will get it wrapped up today in about fifteen minutes. I just felt I should warn you about your possible impending need for maturity. Though I was clearly wrong to rely on you mustering it. I am your boss, Michael. What I do to support my family is none of your concern," Harvey's voice was dry but venomous. Mike swallowed hard; he had clearly surpassed Patton levels of angry and was headed dangerously close to Falling Down territory.

"I just- it's not you, Harvey. To drop everything like this. I mean, I worked with you for how long without even knowing you were married and then all of a sudden it's 'This is my wife' and 'This is her shiny new movie' and 'This is where I move to L.A. and start wearing linen pants.'" It was a lame apology, but it was the best Mike could do.

It did manage to draw a cynical chuckle out of Harvey.

"Linen pants?"

"Well, you know," Mike shrugged, trying to ignore the nagging fear that had sprung up in the back of his mind. It was plausible, Harvey moving to L.A. Unlikely, Mike hoped, but not impossible.

"I'm not moving to L.A," Harvey seemed to have read his associate's mind, "And part of the reason you didn't know I'm married is because things like this almost never come up. Angie and I are independent people. Stop agonizing over me taking a long weekend and get your head in the game." Harvey's words were clipped, but he'd softened enough to at least give Mike a reassurance.

Mike nodded and spent the rest of the ride looking over paperwork he already knew forwards and backwards.

As it turned out, Harvey did wrap up the dismantling of Technicron's intrinsic power structure to allow the Board of Trustee's handpicked new CEO to step into her new role without so much as a hiccup, but it took him more like forty-five minutes.

In fact, Harvey wrapped up so many meetings and settled so many case that week Mike was left with a feeling vaguely like whiplash. For one mind-numbingly stupid second he felt as though there would be no cases left for Pearson-Hardman to deal with even when Harvey got back. The man had been a whirlwind of briefs, filings, legal sucker punches, and witty retorts for four solid days. Hurricane Harvey. How could there be any law left to practice?

Of course Thursday evening rolled around and Harvey dumped an impressive stack of files on Mike's desk without a word.

"Have fun at the premier!" Mike called after him, hoping he sounded mostly like his smartassed self. He didn't feel that way, but had no time to start thinking about why. Instead he dug into the files Harvey had so graciously given to him.

It was nothing in comparison to the boxes of financial reports he'd received from Planet Earth's CEO under the guise of a cost-cutting initiative he wanted more solid information on before revealing to the charities underlings. Still, it meant Mike would probably still be at his desk on Monday when Harvey would come in pretending not to be cranky from jetlag. Mike would have to fight through a haze of Red Bull fog and sleep deprivation to remember why he didn't want to quit. Something he predicted it might be especially hard to do if he couldn't force the harsh, sneering way Harvey had thrown the word "family" at him out of his head.

Mike knew Harvey wasn't his dad or anything, (Ew.) but he had thought they had settled firmly on something a little more than colleagues. Harvey was his mentor, hadn't the older man said so? And that meant they were supposed to trust each other, but Mike suddenly realized that maybe the "wife" bomb had shaken his trust in Harvey a bit more than he thought. If he was feeling wary of Harvey, then, Mike was certain, Harvey was probably feeling at least a little wary of him. The dirty little secret remark wasn't helping either.

Mike groaned loudly and indulged himself for a moment by allowing his heavy head to bang forward against his desk. He was tired of thinking about it.

Married Harvey.

Married. Harvey.

To a French actress.

A beautiful French actress with a breakout movie role and no ludicrous, entanglement of lies needed to hold Harvey's loyalty.

He groaned again.

Despite it all, from that Thursday night perspective the idea of working in his cubicle all weekend seemed more promising to Mike than sitting around with his laptop, periodically checking gossip sites for photos of the premier.

Besides, he knew Donna would do that for him.

Mike was right. Friday at around 11:30, as he chugged down the end of another can of Red Bull in the conference room, surrounded by files, his phone went off.

He opened an email from Donna to find a web link. Mike followed the link to find a run of about a dozen photos of Angelique, looking spectacular in some formfitting purpley-maroon number with a high slit. She was stunning. Mike was bored. He flicked through pictures until he found what he was looking for.

Harvey and Angelique, his arm looped carelessly around her waist but the stiff, awkward angle of his feet giving away the manufactured pose.

They looked... weird.

Harvey in a black suit, sans waistcoat. Mike blinked at that, did a double take... Had Harvey allowed himself to be, dare Mike say it... styled? There was a pocket square the same color as Angelique's dress involved.

If Harvey ever dared to make another prom joke, Mike would never let him live it down.

Harvey looked like Harvey, certainly, not Prom Date Ken. There was nobody, Mike smiled a little at the thought, that could pull of being any more Harvey. He was suave even without the waistcoat. Still, though. There was a level of off-ness that Mike couldn't quite quantify.

Is it me or do they look funny? Mike shot the text off to Donna without thinking about it.

It took a while, and Mike had to ponder if maybe Donna had had a glass or two of wine when she said: She looks vacant. He looks like he'd rather have his arm around Louis.

Mike didn't bother to stifle his shout of laughter. It ended abruptly on it's own as he pictured Donna's thin, tight smile when the word "Eventually," dropped so heavily from her mouth. It occurred to him that perhaps her affection for Angelique was a little bit of overkill and he felt a stab of sympathy towards Harvey's ever present, seemingly omniscient secretary.

You're not wrong. And after seeing you at the mock trial, I don't need to see the movie to know you're a better actress. Cuz you're terrifying to watch.

Mike knew it was probably too much. Donna tolerated him, liked him because Harvey liked him, sometimes in spite of herself. She helped him out, usually when it coincided with her devious plots against Louis, but Donna knew his secret. Mike knew she didn't like what Harvey was risking for him.

Ha. Thanks, kid. Good luck with your haystack, I'll see you Monday.

Bullet successfully dodged. Mike cracked another Red Bull.