Hey Everyone!

So this story is finally picking up now, and I'm loving every minute of it.

I've written a couple of chapters ahead, and I've realized I'm going to have to change the rating from T to M. (Yeah, it's that hot)

LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE (SPOILER-ISH): Was pretty good, enjoyed the Harvey/Mike interaction, and putting Harvey in the office without a suit on (street clothes people, don't think that way) was a good decision. The twist at the end SHOCKED me (Scotty/Harvey), and Harvey apologizing for winning...ugh, just kill me now. So amazing we get to see more of that sensitive side. And hell yeah for Mike standing up to Harvey, although he might have screwed himself out of a job. Mike and Rachel, perfect. So glad she's not mad at him anymore. But my favourite part, hands down, is any scene with Donna in any episode. She's my favourite character, with her fooling Louis last episode and her making Mike cry like that...Oh my God, kill me now. Last night with her performance on the stand... I was crying because I was laughing so hard. I can't imagine anyone else to play Donna than Sarah Rafferty. The girl is a genius.

Enjoy!

P.S. Disclaimer

Mike had come to his apartment building after a very long walk from the office. He really wasn't looking forward to hailing a cab tomorrow, so maybe in the morning he could mooch another ride off of Max, not that she minded though, he hoped. He struggled to pick his lazy and tired ass up each stair, but he did with much effort. As he was unlocking his door, he smelled the delicious scent of spaghetti sauce coming from the apartment right behind him. He turned around and knocked on the blue door, hoping she would answer. The metal sliding of the peephole cover was the only thing Mike heard before the shrill of laughter that was coming from the other side. The chain rattled against the door, before the large piece of wood swung open, revealing the five foot six, slender lady in yoga pants and a loose tank top, with the laughter in her eyes. Her hair was placed in a messy bun at the back of her head as she looked at Mike, barely holding in her laughter.

"Do I look like a soup kitchen to you?"

Mike pouted, "Feed me. Please?"

Max sighed, "I had a feeling to make more food than I should."

"It's that creepy sixth sense that you have, Maxine. The best curse I've ever witnessed," Mike commented as he threw his bag on Max's couch, and turned around to open his front door. After walking into his house, he called to Maxine, who also had her front door open. The hallways were so narrow and small, that with their doors open, it seemed like they were in one big room.

"What'd you make exactly?" Mike asked as he ripped off his shirt.

"Your typical spaghetti, just I made my Mom's meat and mushroom sauce. You know, the one that you love so much." She said, stirring the red heaven in the pot.

"You do realize you are the woman of my dreams?" The man said as he pulled on a pair of sweats.

Max sighed, "Although flattery is welcomed, it still doesn't change the fact that it is so hard being perfect."

Mike locked his front door, and turned into Max's house, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to her small collection of wine and plucked out the only one opened.

"'91 Cabernet?" Mike asked, holding the bottle.

"Only the finest for me," She smiled as she placed the plates on the coffee table, going into her cupboards to get her wine glasses.

"So I saw you with a folder in your hand while you were in Harvey's office before I left," she said sitting down, placing the glasses on the table as she began to pour the wine. She held her hand out towards Mike, and Mike knew that she wanted to see the file that Harvey gave him. Harvey had a strict policy on privacy, but he knew that Max would give up her bottle of 1943 Bordeaux before she even thought of revealing a secret, and there was no way in hell that Max would give up her bottle of 1943 Bordeaux, even if it was to save her own life. "You'll have to pry it out of my perfectly manicured dead hands before you could take this bottle away from me," he remembered her say one time. As a trade, she took the file and offered a glass of wine for Mike, which he thankfully took. She flipped through the file, looking into every detail, forever being etched into her brain.

After a minute, she set the file down.

"Okay," she said before taking a sip of her wine, "I am Anastasia. You're Harrison."

Mike knew what she was doing. They were trying to establish both sides of the story to uncover the truth. She was thinking from Anastasia's point of view, while Mike was thinking from Harrison's. They each came up with scenarios that were plausible.

Mike took a big bite of the pasta, which was absolutely satisfying, before diving into his story.

"I see you on the sixth floor. You've got a pretty smile, and soft hair, and when I see you from the distance, I want to get to know you. But you can't be interested in a guy like me, I'm way too old for you, yet I still go for you. It's polite talk at first, but I make the first move, saying something sexually funny. It's odd at first, but you start to flirt back. Soon enough, we're on our thirtieth date, and I feel like we're in love, so I marry you, no pre-nup. It's fine at first, but I notice the money that you're controlling isn't matching up with the number, and you keep running up my credit cards. I confront you, and you deny everything. My money starts to deplete, and I've had enough of you and your money-sucking bitch vibe, I start cutting you out of your paychecks, and when you start using more of my money, I divorce your ass and fire you, but not before you rob me of more money, and accuse me of harassing you and neglecting your needs."

Max had been finishing her meal as Mike was talking, and nodded, "Not bad."

"Why thank you. I'm pretty sure my argument sticks."

She put her plate down and grabbed her glass, "Not until you hear my side of the story."

Max cleared her throat.

"I'm not really into old guys, but when I see you coming down from the twentieth level to our measly ninth floor, I'm attracted to your old soul. I don't know how to act at first, me being polite to you and all, but I get over my fear and start making an advance on you. You return it, and soon enough you're asking me to dinner every night, whether it be your office or a nice, upscale restaurant. One night, you pop the question, and I'm overwhelmed with happiness, that I marry you without asking for a pre-nup. At first the marriage is everything I've wanted, but then you start to distance yourself from me, and put everything you have in your work. Your work becomes your new wife, and the only way I can cope is to busy myself with shopping. I'm trying to get back at you for not paying attention to me, but you take it the wrong way and suddenly I'm not receiving any paychecks anymore. Then you fire me right before you drop a stack of divorce papers on my desk. I feel taken advantage of, so I want to get what I deserve, and I sue you for my emotional distress."

It was quiet for a while, both of them thinking over each side of the story.

Max sighed, "I'm always on the woman's side first, but Harrison's side looks like that Anastasia's just a gold-digging whore."

"Gold-digging whore?"

"If the shoe fits," she shrugged.

"I think it was made to look that way," Mike said honestly.

"It does have some authenticity to it, but I can't really put my finger on it."

Max thought of something that stopped her mind from wandering.

"Who filed for divorce?"

"Holtor," Mike said, stretching after finishing his delicious meal.

Max fathomed about it for another moment, "We don't have anymore records elaborating on their divorce?"

"Nope, just on the harassment lawsuit."

Max looked at Mike, who was scrunching his face.

"What?"

The brunette's eyebrows rose, "Let's continue with my theory. I'm still furious that you aren't spending time with me, right?"

From her tone, Mike leaned in, knowing she was onto something, "Yeah, so you start wasting my money trying to get my attention."

Max smiled, "But what if that wasn't the only way to get your attention?"

Mike thought about it for a moment, before mirroring Max's smile.

Harvey Specter sat on his balcony as he looked out in the Manhattan scenery. It was an amazing sight. Almost all the lights in the Manhattan night could have been seen from his balcony. The lights below glowed spectacularly as he felt the soft breeze on his cheek. It was nights like these where he enjoyed the night, but feared it as well. The balcony was peaceful and solemn, but Harvey could feel the loneliness it brought along with it. He sat there, with his glass of '87 Merlot, letting the loneliness swallow him whole. Only in times like these would he allow himself to be vulnerable. Sure, he loved the occasional model who spent more than the night here, but it didn't feel complete. He wanted someone that would sit with him on the balcony, sipping red wine with him while not saying a word, just embracing each other and enjoying each other's company. Or someone who will watch a movie with him, yet she chooses the movie. And she doesn't choose something cheesy, like The Notebook, because she's tasteful when it comes to her movies. She'd pick something like The Departed, Righteous Kill, or even Top Gun. There was no way that a woman of Harvey's calibre would openly choose a Star Trek movie, but he didn't put aside that option.

No, his woman would be strong, yet she would be soft and feminine. Smart as hell, not like the bimbos that had seen better days. Smart to the point where Harvey didn't just feel challenged, but almost felt obligated to show her up. Not afraid of competition. She had to be successful too; not too successful to upstage himself, but up to the point where people were forced to respect her. Yeah, his girl would be just like him, but she'd be the only person that could kick his ass, and she'd be the only person allowed to kick his ass.

Harvey smiled at the thought of his perfect woman. She had to be out there somewhere. As he walked back into his home, he took into account how much Chinese he'd ordered this week.

Another thing he wished his girl would do: feed him really well.

Review?

xoxo N.