Author's Note: So the newest episode totally put my ass in gear on this story. I feel like I have it moving to where I want it again. One of my biggest problems isn't where I want stuff to end up, it's how I get it there without just being like "this happened and now we're here" because that's boring.
In other news, I was musing while proofreading and it occurred to me that I think it's totally weird that there isn't a Suits/HIMYM crossover anywhere in sight. (Not that I've looked very hard. Or at all, to be honest.) I mean, can you imagine? Harvey and Mike just school Marshall in court, but it's fun, ya know. And they go to Maclaren's and Harvey meets BARNEY? That would be amazing. The SUITS, you guys! I cannot write that, though. Waaaay too involved. Amusing to think about though.
Suits belongs to USA, not me.
For a while after that everything was fine. Harvey stopped staring, for the most part anyway. The few times Mike did catch him at it, usually late at night when they were surrounded by boxes of files and Mike was trying to work a kink out of his back, Harvey had a sly little smile and a knowing look in his eyes. Mike would just twist his lips into something approximating a mocking grimace. Harvey would snort and return to work. They worked better when they had some ridiculous, career destroying secret that was theirs and only theirs. Although Mike was sure Donna knew, because Donna always knew.
Then Travis Tanner hit town again and all Hell broke loose. In a matter of days the firm was defending a damning fraud accusation, Harvey was practically crying on the plaintiffs doorstep and stepping all over himself to apologize, Jessica was on the warpath, and Donna was packing up her desk. Mike had never fathomed that one stupid memo could wreak so much havoc. The look on Harvey's face when as the elevator doors slid closed and cut Donna from view was all Mike needed to know that, for once, Harvey wasn't going to be cleaning up after him. He was going to be cleaning up after Harvey. So he followed his boss down the hall and into his office. They stood silently, shoulder to shoulder as Harvey stared out at the city and Mike pretended to do the same while watching Harvey surreptitiously from the corner of his eye.
"What the fuck am I going to do?" Harvey spoke suddenly, a hollow note in his voice that chilled Mike to the core.
"I don't think there's anything you can do, right now," Mike answered quietly, tracking Harvey's movements as the older man stepped out of the office to rummage a bottle out of the bottom drawer of Donna's desk. He poured himself three fingers of scotch, knocked it back, and refilled his tumbler.
"She screwed up. I know. I'm still so pissed at her, I want to break her fucking neck. I know that Jessica fired her because if she didn't she would've had to fire me. But I haven't run my own life since I was fresh out of law school in the D.A's office. I don't have time to break in a new secretary. There's no way..." Harvey tailed off, ruminating over his scotch for a long moment before polishing it off and pouring a third.
"I'll still be disbarred anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter."
That startled a response out of Mike.
"You're not going to get disbarred, Harvey. You can't. I'm not going to let Travis Goddamn Tanner take out all three of us in one fell swoop," Mike informed him harshly. Harvey chuckled, a rough rasping sound that wasn't laughter at all.
"My assistant shredded a document that I've been accused of burying, Mike. Nobody's going to believe that she did it yesterday and not four years ago. Even if they did, she was my employee and all of her actions are my responsibility, so yeah, the evidence I'm accused of burying was buried. This office has officially committed a fraud. If I continue to say I never had it in the first place, I'll be committing perjury. Donna's not going to be the only one going down for this, Mike. At least I'm falling from the penthouse, right?" Harvey sighed, and held up a hand when he saw Mike open his mouth to reply, "But this isn't going to take you out, Mike. You haven't done anything wrong."
"Yeah, except the whole not actually being a lawyer thing. The only reason I'm still here now is because you threatened to quit if Jessica fired me. If you're gone, I'm gone, and you know it. Why the hell would Jessica keep around a liability like me if you weren't staying her hand? Get it together, Harvey. You're not going to let some fucking sleazy nitwit like Tanner ruin everything you've worked for because your sad, because you tamped down all your emotions for so long you don't know how to handle them when they rear their ugly heads. Harvey Specter doesn't lose, all right? Battles maybe, but not the war. So put the scotch down, go home, get some sleep and be back here in the morning ready to help Jessica fix this." The only person Mike could ever remember speaking to like that was Trevor, and for a second he thought Harvey might throw him through a window. He held his ground though, matched Harvey's stare, and eventually the murderous look faded from Harvey's face.
"I can't believe you just gave me a tough love pep talk."
"You needed it. Harvey, you're wearing a ten thousand dollar suit, standing in an office on the fiftieth floor of a New York City high rise admitting defeat. I'm pretty sure this entire city would sink into the Atlantic if anybody but me had heard that little pity party you just threw yourself."
"Don't be dramatic."
"Harvey, the magnetic poles may have just reversed themselves. Hell has probably frozen over. Take a walk down the hall and see if you see icicles in Louis' office, would you? Has it not dawned on you that in the middle of the worst fight of your career, you gave up? For a whole twenty minutes you stood around your office without giving the idea of fighting back any thought. There are tenants to your belief structure that are total bullshit, Harvey, but the whole 'don't ever lose' thing is pretty goddamn solid."
"All right, all right," Harvey cracked a small smirk, "I concede to your point. Although I would've thought you would be more supportive about me admitting to feeling anything."
Mike knew that Harvey was joking, but it still stung.
"It is killing me to see you like this. It's weird, and off putting, and I don't like it a single fucking bit, but you're allowed to feel bad about this, Harvey. You should feel bad, because it sucks. You just don't get to drown in it. Acknowledging your emotions and letting them rule you are two totally different things," Mike shot back, his voice harsher than he'd intended. Harvey quirked an eyebrow.
"I said all right, Dr. Phil. Go get your stuff and meet me in the lobby," Harvey nodded towards the door as he collected his briefcase.
"I don't even warrant a Dr. Drew? I mean, he's a least kind of sexy, with the glasses and-"
"Go."
Ten minutes later they were in the back of the limo, Ray behind the wheel.
"Where are we going?" Mike frowned out the window as blocks slid past, taking them further from Harvey's neighborhood.
"Your apartment," Harvey answered, sounding something like sheepish, "I don't... It's too open at my place. I feel like the whole goddamn city is watching me."
"So you're going to hide?" Mike set his lips in a way that said, unequivocally, "Didn't we decide this twenty minutes ago? No wallowing."
"It's a tactical retreat," Harvey retorted stiffly, "I need to be somewhere I can think. The office and the condo feel exposed. This is trench warfare."
"Are you seriously comparing my apartment to a glorified hole in the ground?"
"Maybe it's more like a bunker," Harvey conceded, and Mike scoffed.
"My place is not that bad."
"Mike, you live in Brooklyn," Harvey retorted, as if that explained anything.
"Whatever," Mike flopped back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the window.
"Petulance doesn't suit you," Harvey lied, trying to ignore the taunting way Mike's lower lip pushed out, "Can't you just accept the idea that I'd rather be at your apartment with you than anywhere else right now and appreciate it? Given the little speech you made earlier, I had actually started expecting you to be a little more mature."
A slow grin had spread across Mike's features as Harvey spoke.
"You like me," Mike teased, shooting Harvey's maturity theory all to Hell, "You wanna hang out with me. You think I'm cool. Do you wanna sip hot cocoa and braid my hair? We can talk about all the boys you think are dreamy. Oh, my God! We can totally have a pillow fight."
"I will throw you out of this car."
"No you won't, because you liiiiiike me! Harvey made a friiiend!"
Harvey reached for the button for the partition, "Ray, change of plans-"
"Okay, shutting up." Mike practically sprang across the seat to grab Harvey's far wrist, his torso draped across Harvey's chest, "Just... I appreciate it, all right?"
"All right," Harvey looked down at Mike, something falsely light in his tone that made Mike draw back, although he didn't return to his seat against the far door. Instead he settled back directly to Harvey's right and leaned, just a little, into Harvey's shoulder.