Mike woke up to an incessant knocking noise. He groaned and buried his head deeper in his pillow, hoping that simply ignoring the noise would make it go way.

Unfortunately, this wasn't to be the case.

"Mike, open the door!" Harvey shouted from behind the door and Mike didn't even bother to suppress the groan making its way out of his mouth. It was too early for this shit.

"If you don´t open the door, I´ll use the replacement key I had secretly made," a female voice chimed in.

"You brought Donna?!" Mike lifted his head and shouted back. Then he stood up, glancing down to make sure that the clothes he was currently wearing wouldn't be a total embarrassment and made his way to the apartment door.

"I knew that I needed the nuclear option to get you out of bed," Harvey said unapologetically as he overstepped the threshold and entered Mike´s apartment, Donna following suit, sending Mike a bright smile.

"And when did you make a copy of my key?" Mike asked of the red-head. He felt that he probably should be more aghast at this breach of privacy, but it wasn't like he expected anything different from Donna. He would be more worried if she hadn't done anything.

"During the Preston case when you didn't go home for three days straight," Donna replied as she let her gaze wander over his book collection; randomly picking some books and regarding their cover. "50 Shades of Grey, really, Mike?" She arched her eyebrows judgingly. Mike could feel his cheeks reddening.

"Jenny gave it to me," he mumbled. "Said that she didn't want such garbage ruining her bookcase, so she gave it to me."

"Not that your discussion about terrible BDSM erotica isn´t pretty exciting," Harvey interrupted the two of them from where he was sitting at Mike´s kitchen counter. "But our flight goes in four hours, so if you would be so kind and hurry up." He made some flourished gesture with his hand towards a pile of fresh clothes were laying on the ground.

So sue him, Mike didn't have the time to put it away, because some people – Harvey, actually just Harvey – were occupying all of his time.

"Let´s see." Donna bustled over to his clothes and began rummaging through it. "It´s spring, so grey and browns are out." She tossed away all of his clothes in the aforementioned colours. "Green is so cliché for spring, it´s like people have no imagination anymore." The pile of discarded clothes grew bigger. "Blue, now that goes very well with your eyes. Now, this –" she held up one of Mike´s Henley's –" is what I call perfect." She threw it to Mike who caught the piece of clothing with one hand. Donna was right, that Henley was one of his better ones; cerulean, it brought out his eyes and emphasized his lean upper body – at least, that was what Jenny told him when she had bought it for him.

"You know," Mike began, amusement tinting his voice, "that I´m a grown man and can pick my own clothes." He pointed towards the already packed suitcase next to the door. He hadn't been that unprepared.

Twin snorts from both Harvey and Donna glued him in that the two weren't necessarily agreeing with his statement.

"Please," Harvey said, "you still come to work in those abominable skinny ties. So don't tell me, you know how to dress yourself."

"The first day of work you came in in a 400$ suit," Donna added.

"400 Dollars," she repeated and shook her head in disbelief as she tossed some dark-grey jeans at Mike. "I had Norma asking me if you were some cheap rentboy Harvey had ordered." Mike´s jaw dropped to the floor.

"What?" he shrieked.

"You never told me that," Harvey added with a smirk on his face. "I´m really disappointed that Norma would think that I need to pay to have sex." Mike just threw up his hands and vanished into his bathroom in order to change his clothes.

Sometimes he wondered what exactly in his life had led him up to this.


"Nice day, isn´t it?" Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was as subtly as a wrecking ball crashing through your bedroom wall at six in the morning, but you just had to love the guy for it. Hundred percent honesty. No hidden agenda. Nope, nothing but a dopey smile and the belief that everyone deserved a second chance.

"Scott, in the countless years of our awesome bromance you haven't asked me once if the day was 'nice'," Stiles replied and Scott ducked his head. "So just ask what you really want." Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You don't get my Wonder Woman comics, though. The last one I borrowed you had suspicious white spots on some pages. Dude, that was disgusting."

"I told you that was mayonnaise!" Scott exclaimed indignantly. "I even had Mom back me up!" Stiles just grinned.

"Yeah, dude, I believe you," he assured Scott. "So what do you wanna know?"

"Are you excited?" Scott asked with wide eyes. "I mean, this mage is coming today and you gonna learn all that awesome stuff." Scott´s expression darkened. "I bet he´s better than Derek was when he tried to teach me."

"Unfair, dude," Stiles protested. "I guess, I´m a little bit excited. I mean, who doesn't want to learn how to multiply your chocolate bars? And…the other stuff…I guess it´s pretty awesome as well." To be honest Stiles was a nervous wreck. What if this other mage took one look at Stiles and found him lacking?

Stiles knew that he wasn't what people wanted him to be. He was just the hyperactive ADHD-kid, the mouthy son of the sheriff, the lanky kid that somehow ended up with the beautiful and superstrong werewolves, who couldn't even shut up to save his own life. He was the odd one out and he knew it. But being a mage – it was something that was uniquely him and he didn't want to screw that up. He just couldn't.

"Stop thinking," Scott interrupted his thoughts.

"You don't even know what I was thinking," Stiles pouted.

"Dude, you started smelling like desperation and self-loathing," Scott said and, dear God, life had been so easier when Scott hadn't been able to sniff out how Stiles was really thinking. "You´re awesome and if that Mike Ross can´t see that, well, he can go and spin on it."

"Well," Stiles replied. "Then I´d die."

"Then he can spin on it after he taught you how to control your powers," Scott amended. Stiles smiled.

It was great to have a friend like Scott.

"Soooo," Mike began and turned towards Harvey who was sitting opposite of him. First class flying was awesome, if he was allowed to say it.

Harvey, meanwhile, just arched one eyebrow at him while Donna sipped at the cocktail she had one of the stewards – a male one, and boy, Mike really didn't want to see Donna flirting. It was like watching a tigress eating a terrified chicken – made for her.

"Who´s that mysterious guy Jessica sent you with me for?" he asked. It must be truly important if Jessica was willing to send her second-in-command to the other side of the country for it.

"His name is Peter Hale, he lives in Beacon Hills and he was in the same class in Harvard as Jessica," Harvey answered. "That´s everything I know."

"And she wants you to persuade him to come to work for her?" Mike inquired. "Why didn't she do it herself?"

"Beats me," Harvey admitted. "After all, Jessica is a busy woman."

"You´re really clueless, aren't you?" Donna said from the other side of the corridor. "They obviously had something."

"Obviously," Mike repeated sagely. Donna just shot him an irritated glare which made Mike shut up immediately.

"But they split up in bad blood," Donna continued. "So Jessica can´t go herself, because that would be an admission that she was wrong in the fight that they split up because of. Sending Harvey, on the other hand, can be seen as a peace offer while she still maintains face." She took another sip from her cocktail.

"That´s stupid," Mike commented.

"It´s how successful people work," Donne shrugged. "Harvey sends me my favourite chocolate every time when he is wrong and never mentions our arguments again after that, because he thinks that would make it as if he hadn't been the one to crave in first." She grinned. "I´m not so evil to take away that illusion." Both, she and Mike shared a laugh over that while Harvey glowered at them.

"That´s munity," he complained. "You aren't allowed to gang up on me!"

"Aw, don´t be such a fuss, Harvey," Donna shot back. "You love us."

"Who wouldn't love us?" Mike made his way towards Donna and slung one arm around her shoulders. "We´re the angels sitting on your shoulders." He grinned.

"She," Harvey replied and pointed at Donna, "would definitely be the devil."

"He´s right," Donna admitted. "Besides, a red pitchfork would be the accessoir of my choice."


Lydia Martin was many things. Beautiful. Intelligent. Fashion-conscious. Until recently the objects of Stiles' unending and slightly creepy obsession. And first and foremost observant.

So who did Stiles think he was that he could keep his full-blown crush on Derek Hale secret from here?

Lydia had taken one look and she had seen everything: The looks that lingered to long on the other male´s body. The feint blush that came over Stiles' cheeks every time Derek would look at or talk to him. The even more incoherent than usual ramblings whenever Stiles talked to Derek.

Oh, that boy had been hit hard.

And it wasn´t as if Stiles' crush was completely one-sided either. Derek was better at hiding it, that Lydia had to admit, but even he couldn't be on guard the whole time. She noticed how the Alpha´s gaze would soften when he looked at Stiles when he thought that nobody else was watching him. How he would always touch Stiles - a hand on the shoulder here, a ruffle through the hair there – and how he would always heed Stiles' advice, even though he made a big show of arguing with Stiles beforehand.

Sometimes, Lydia thought, those two were so obvious that she wondered why anyone else hadn't picked up on them. When Deaton told them of Stiles' now averted death-fate, Derek tried to act cool and stoic, but Lydia had seen how his gaze would turn towards Stiles even more often than usual and how he would touch Stiles even more – as if he wanted to make sure that Stiles was still there and wouldn´t vanish when he wasn´t looking.

And yet, neither Stiles nor Derek had the courage to act on their feelings; always skittering around each other and hiding behind their arguments. If it wouldn't burst everyone's eardrums Lydia would have started screaming in frustration a long time ago.

But Lydia wouldn't meddle. No, a relationship between those two had to come natural, lest they would break apart at the first obstacle. Of course, she would nudge Stiles in the right direction if he ever came to her asking for advice, but for now she was content in watching those two dancing around each other from the side-lines.

Her phone rang and mindlessly Lydia picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Lydia," Allison´s ever happy voice echoed out of the speaker. "I just came back with my parents and I saw that the boutique in Heverton Road has a new collection. Wanna go shopping?"

"Allison," Lydia replied. "What question is that?"

Nothing better than destroying patriarchy while looking good at it.


Deaton was waiting for them when they left the terminal. Mike nearly let his suitcase drop but possessed the presence of mind to just make it look like an awkward stumble.

"How did you even know when I´d be coming?" Mike whispered, not wanting Harvey and Donna, who were still a few meters behind him, hearing what they were saying.

"I have my methods," Deaton answered cryptically.

"So you scried," Mike guessed. He took a look at Deaton. Over the last years the man hadn't aged a little bit. Still these unblemished skin with no wrinkles and those fathomless eyes. Yet, some things had changed. There was an aura of maturity around the veterinarian, of weariness and quiet determination that hadn't been there the last time Mike had seen the man.

"You didn't set up any wards against it," was Deaton´s only reply, which was as good as an admission. That was the end of their short talk, though, as Harvey and Donna had finally reached them.

"Mike, who´s that?" Harvey asked and nodded in Deaton´s direction.

"Alan Deaton," Mike introduced his former tutor. "The friend of mine who asked for my help." Harvey´s eyes narrowed at Deaton in suspicion as he shook the hand the vet offered to him.

"Harvey Specter," Harvey introduced himself. "Mike´s boss."

"Why didn't you contact some lawyer from the West Coast?" he continued to ask.

"You assume that it is legal work I need Michael´s help with," Deaton replied as relaxed as he always seems to be. "Which isn´t the case."

"Then what do you need Mike for?" Harvey pried further.

"That is between Mike and I," Deaton replied and from the way Harvey´s jaw set, Mike knew that he would go into full lawyer-mode if something wasn´t done right now. Luckily, Donna was present as well.

"It´s truly great to meet you," she interrupted. "Because that means that we won´t have to take a taxi to Beacon Hills. Lead the way, Mister Deaton. These are a fine set of feet and they need their rest." She pointed at her red stilettos.

Mike let out a breath of relief. Crisis averted. At least for now.

But from Harvey´s expression, Mike could deduce that this wasn't the last word that would be spoken on the matter.