Chapter Text
Harvey Spector was a brilliant lawyer. He was a winner. A charmer. He was excellent.
...He was fucked.
His problem had a name, Michael Ross, and unfortunately for him, Mike was, well, a whole list of problems on his own– if one takes into account the whole ‘covering for his fraud’ thing, the criminal past, and his general soft nature which was the gift that kept on prolonging cases.
Not to mention that he was an associate. It was like Harvey had lost all self respect. Like seriously? Mike of all people? What had he been thinking?
The problem in question hummed next to him, mumbling something in his sleep. The light pouring in from the windows, highlighted his mistake excellently; his associate, naked in his bed. He smelled like him too– he’d showered here last night in addition to sleeping here which made it worse.
He needed a plan, he needed– his alarm went off. Moving as fast as he could he turned it off, though, not before Mike startled, jolting upright in the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes tiredly. “Huh?! What time is…” he trailed off as it seemed to register where he was– or rather, where he wasn't. That being his own bed and apartment. “Oh my god. Did I– did we?” Harvey coughed. He reserved the right to blame the tequila.
“Get up, we’re going to be late.” With that he stood, crossing the room to his closet. Ignoring the choked noise behind him, he reached for a pair of briefs, determined to be casual about this. He needed to remain in control of the situation or it would go to shit fast. “Ross, I don’t suppose you have an extra suit with you?” He asked over his shoulder.
“I– what?” When he turned, Mike’s eyes snapped up– where had he been looking? That was irrelevant, actually, because this whole thing decidedly never happened. “A suit, Ross, heard of one?”
“I– yeah, sorry– I mean, no, I don’t have an extra. Um, are we going to talk about…”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then.”
–
Harvey was late. He had lost time driving Ross back to the bar to get his car before coming into work and on top of that, traffic had been hell. He was already getting a headache as he walked into the building and he was in desperate need of caffeine. As far as he was concerned, this day couldn’t get any worse.
“You’re late.”
Nevermind, he stood corrected. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me, Louis. I’m flattered,” he answered, his tone intentionally devoid of interest. He turned, avoiding Louis as he stepped into his office, shutting the door. Louis, of course, disregarded his clear disinterest in anything having to do with him– in true Louis Litt fashion– as he then pushed through said door. Needless to say Harvey was annoyed.
“What do you want, Louis?” He asked, hoping to be done with the conversation as soon as possible. “I’m only curious what could be so important that the ever-punctual Harvey Specter would be late?” Harvey fought the powerful urge to roll his eyes. “If you keep up this energy, I’m going to think you have a crush on me.” Louis scowled, "rumor is there's an important client coming in, I want in." Of course he wanted in, weaseling his way into Harvey's cases was his favorite hobby. Unfortunately for him, his headache paired with his racing mind meant that he had less patience than usual. "I haven't heard anything about a new case, and if I do, I am not giving it to you unless Mike Ross and/or you start actively dying." Just then they were thankfully interrupted, just in time to keep Harvey from bringing up Louis's receding hairline if only to get him out of his office. “Harvey, uh, Jessica asked for us in her office. Says it's important.”
Why is God so cruel? He never thought he’d want to prolong a conversation with Louis before; that might be the worst part in all this. That was just too far.
–
“Ross, I need all of Le’Arlequin’s financial’s, I want to know names of everyone that stays there, I want to know how often, and I want to know why.” Harvey said as they left Jessica’s office, his associate on his heel. Mike had been avoiding his eyes since the morning like a blushing virgin– wait.
Did he– was he the first man Ross had been with?
Nope. He was not considering that. That was completely irrelevant, even if it was true– which was unlikely.
“Yeah, right, of course, I’ll do that.” He rambled, walking off in the wrong direction. Could he get any more obvious?
Donna gave him a look as he passed her that said she knew exactly what happened– hell she probably did and he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. His head felt as though he were hosting a drummers convention in his skull with his brain acting as the drum.
“Tell me you didn’t," Donna said as he walked past her. “Donna,” he warned, because he really didn’t want to talk about it right now– or ever if he was being honest. If he had it his way, it would be like it never even happened. Despite his lack of an answer, she laughed.
"You did!” She accused, sounding all too delighted as she followed him into his office. He should have known she was going to press. “So, how was it? Did he cry? Tell me everything.” Harvey groaned, really not wanting to think about anything to do with Mike Ross.
"Oh come on, you have to tell me something." His scowl was met with a grin that was downright malevolent. She wasn't going to leave without anything, he knew. He sighed, “look, I don’t remember, and even if I did, it doesn’t matter, because it never happened.”
Her look shifted, then, to something entirely too uncomfortable to decipher, her tone softening a bit. “Harvey, do you have–”
“A headache?" He cut in, knowing where this was going– nowhere good. "Yes. Could you get me some ibuprofen and some coffee?” With that, he turned around, stalking toward his desk, completely uninterested in seeing whatever wheels were spinning in Donna’s head right now. He was too tired to be bothered correcting whatever conclusions she was jumping to. He slept with the guy, that doesn’t mean anything, he’s slept with a lot of people. He didn’t even remember anything.
Collapsing into his chair, he opened his laptop to check through his schedule. A brief look at the clock told him it was going to be a very long day.
–
“Did you do what I asked?” He called as Mike walked past his office for the fourth time in thirty minutes. After the third time Donna had used the intercom to deliver a very unhelpful, “oh would you have mercy on that poor boy?”
Harvey didn’t see himself as a particularly merciful man on a normal day but alas, screwing associates wasn’t exactly part of his usual schedule either and Mike Ross was arguably the best associate at Pearson and Specter; he couldn’t afford for him to stay… awkward.
Mike stopped in his tracks like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, turning on the spot. “Uh, yeah, I gave the files to Donna. I thought…” He seemed to deflate as he realized that Donna had not, in fact, given him the files.
Shooting a look at his secretary that he hoped conveyed his annoyance as well as his intent to address it later, Harvey gestured for Mike to come in.
"Close the door,” he said, to his associate’s apparent dismay. Still, Mike closed the door before he made his way to the chair in front of him, taking a seat almost hesitantly, fidgeting nervously with a pen. “I’m not going to eat you if that is what you are worried about. We need to talk.”
“Talk?” His voice cracked, he coughed. Harvey raised his brows. “About– about what?” He found it slightly amusing how Mike was blushing like a scandalized nun right now. “Oh my god,” he gasped in mock surprise, “have you never had sex before? Ross, you need not be embarrassed, it’s completely normal. You see, when a mommy and a daddy–”
“I get it,” he rushed, holding up his hands desperately, “please stop.” Harvey smiled as Mike buried his head in his hands, ears bright red. He let his smile fall as he cleared his throat, straightening up and attempting to catch his associate's eye. “Seriously Mike, I need you focused for this case and it’s clear that what happened is on your mind.”
His head shot up then, face beat red, “what happened? What happened was–” he stopped himself, looking at the intercom on the desk like he was scared it would sprout teeth. “It’s off,” he offered and Mike sighed, “I just– I’ve never, uh– and anyway, you’re my boss and– oh yeah– I was drunk off my ass last night and can’t remember most of it but it’s a bit difficult to forget what you said so yeah, you could say it's on my mind.”
“Wait, wait, wait, hold on, what I said?” His brows furrowed and for a moment the only thought running through his head was, shit, what did I say? He was getting ready to plea tequila when Mike cut him off. “Yeah, well, you can’t just call me a slut and magnificent in the same breath and expect me to be casual–”
“I did what?!” Oh hell, his self respect had gone completely out the window. “What the hell was in that tequila?” He muttered.
“Wait, you don’t remember?” He sounded oddly hopeful and Harvey wasn’t sure if he should be offended or grateful for that tone. He sighed, exasperated. “I figured neither of us did.”
Mike leaned back in his chair. “Oh, great. The first man I sleep with and he doesn’t even remember,” he muttered, "just my luck." Harvey choked on air. Had he just said that he was– “What?” He asked, because no, he couldn't mean that. When he spoke again, that hope was shattered.
“Yeah– I mean, I’d been questioning for a while but I never, you know and– actually, that’s not important. I am slightly offended, however, by the fact that the most praise you’ve ever given me was while my head was in a pillow.”
“Yes, well, you’re more likable when you aren’t talking," he said before he could even think about the words coming out of his mouth. Mike laughed and that was good, laughing was good. At least he wasn’t panicking.
“Unless, of course, I’m winning a case for you," Mike challenged.
He raised a brow, “for me? Oh you’re getting cocky.”
Mike snorted, “I think you have enough for the both of us.”
A startled laugh escaped him, “Mike Ross, did you just make a dick joke?” His response was an ‘are you serious?’ look as he said, “it hurts to sit down. I think I’ve earned it.” Harvey had to resist a proud smile at that, instead bringing the subject back to safer waters, “sorry, love, but I hope you mean what you’re saying about winning cases.”
Mike's eyes fluttered for a split second like he'd forgotten where he was before he blinked, sitting up straighter as his eyes filled with that spark of challenge that he loved to see. “Guess who frequented Le’Arlequin for the last six months?” Harvey leaned forward in his chair, “who?”
“Tasha Sorrel.”
“No.”
“Yes. That’s not even the best part. Hold on,” he gave him a ‘stay’ gesture as he walked to the door. Harvey watched as he stopped at Donna’s desk and collected a stack of folders. He ignored the smug satisfaction he felt when he noticed the slight limp in his gate.
Mike dropped the files on his desk, taking the one from the top and passing it to him. He only read the first line before he was looking up at his associate, slightly skeptical. “No, surely they couldn’t be that stupid.”
“Keep. Reading.” He urged. He watched Harvey's eyes scan the page, face splitting into a grin as Harvey's jaw dropped. "Oh my God."
"Right?!" He said, practically bouncing in place with excitement.
“Ross, I could kiss you,” he said, and admittedly, he was slightly curious about what that might be like– but that didn't matter because he wasn't in his right mind today and clearlythat thought was a result of his hangover.
Mike scoffed, still joking with him, “by me dinner first.” It was on impulse when Harvey replied, “alright. Are you free tonight?” And he immediately scolded himself for it because he was not thinking at all. But he’d already started and now he was committed. “I owe you one, it seems.”
Harvey was now considering that he may be an idiot.
Mike Ross was an associate, a headache, really. And yet. Here he was, asking the man on the date.
What. The. Fuck. Harvey?
He made a mental note to inquire about a vow of silence after today.
“Correct. I don’t suppose you have any requests regarding what I should wear?” Harvey blinked, mike's words barely registering in his ears.
He was serious? He wanted to go on a date with him?
Apparently he did. He wanted to go on a date with him and he was clearly comfortable enough to be making penis jokes in his office. He had not considered this outcome.
Harvey smirked, meeting Mike's eyes, the challenge clear, “something red,” he said, curious to see if he'd actually take his request.
Mike gasped, miming clutching at pearls as he walked backwards to the door, “you harlot.”
“Harlot, really?” He raised a brow. He couldn’t use a word from this century?
“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” He asked, and– right, he had apparently called Mike Ross a magnificent slut. Part of him was curious as to how magnificent he could be. The sane part of him, however, told him to shut this down before it ended badly. And the third part, was too proud to acknowledge the first two guys.
Still, “get out of my office," was all he could get himself to say, letting a small bit of playfulness sneak into his tone.
As soon as he was gone, Donna was in the room, wide-eyed, like a vulture in Dior, ready to pick apart his disaster-salad of a situation– because he’d lied about the intercom being off. He had no doubt that she’d find out eventually– the woman was damn-near omniscient sometimes– but he had no intention of explaining the situation directly. It was humiliating.
“You–” she started, clearly barely restraining laughter.
“Yeah, get it all out.”
“–drunk-fucked an associate? And not just any associate, Mike Ross? Really? Mr. ‘Allergic to Emotions’ Specter?”
“I’m apparently going on a date with him, too.” He said, rubbing a hand over his face. His headache was coming back full force. “Good,” she said, “and for the record, I won’t have you breaking his poor heart.”
“His heart? Donna, we just slept together, it can’t go anywhere. He knows that.” She gave him a look that he wasn’t going to decipher, then, “sure, sweetie." Then that mischievous glint returned to her eyes. "So then, Ross' praise kink confirmed?”
He cracked a grin at that.
Donna
Harvey stopped Donna as she was about to leave, asking the question she’d been waiting for. “Donna, you knew before I said anything. How?”
She rolled her eyes because, seriously, what was with him doubting her intelligence? It took her less than two minutes to put it together after Mike had dropped off the reports first thing. “He smells like your shampoo– that I know for a fact that you get custom made. Don’t insult my intelligence. And for what it’s worth, I think you guys would be so cute together.” She added as an afterthought, just because she knew it would ruffle his feathers.
That man’s biggest weakness may be his fear of commitment.
Harvey– and likely Mike– was going to get hurt. They were both idiots, really, because they’d been dancing around each other since they met and it had taken an ungodly amount of tequila to bridge the gap apparently.
They were hopeless.
Fortunately for them, she was Donna.
–
“Donna, I am so screwed.” Mike said later as they “ran into” each other in the hall. She grinned, “yeah, if it goes well,” she joked. Mike’s eyes went comically wide and he looked around the otherwise empty hallway frantically before dragging her into the conference room– as if it wasn’t made entirely of glass.
She resisted a snort as she realized the metaphor potential– the conference room, like the closet, was glass! She was hilarious.
“How much do you know?” He asked quietly. She fought the urge to roll her eyes; sleeping with Harvey was hardly a conspiracy. “Harvey and I don’t have secrets.”
“The intercom was on, wasn’t it?” He asked in that typical accusatory tone that all lawyers tended towards when they had big feelings, as if she would admit to conspiring with Harvey to acquire all of the slutty details.
“We debriefed after your little conversation,” she said instead– and it was technically true. She hadn’t spent as much time as she had around lawyers just to neglect learning their most important skill– how to be strategic with her truths and truth-adjacent statements.
Mike deflated slightly. “I don’t know what to do, Donna. He’s my boss. And my friend.”
“Not to mention, your first,” she added helpfully. He frowned, “you say that like I was a virgin. I’m not some flower he plucked from a garden.”
She snorted, “innocent? No. But unless you’re telling me that Rachel was getting freaky with the strap while you guys were together, he’s definitely a first.” He smiled mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows, “how do you know she wasn’t?”
Donna licked her lips to emphasize her statement, “she doesn’t own a strap– I would know– and she is a very gratuitous bottom.” His playfulness morphed into shock, his eyebrows rising to a truly impressive height. “You guys–”
“Just sex,” she supplied before he could misinterpret anything. Rachel was her friend. And anyway, this was about his unfortunate relationship and lack thereof with Harvey. “What are you going to wear?” And– oh, that did it. Color seemed to drain from his face. “I don’t know. Something red I guess?”
She raised a skeptical brow, “do you even own anything red?” Predictably, he did not. She nodded and started toward the door, pausing briefly to look at him, still standing where she’d left him, “well? Are you coming? We have two hours to find you something presentable.”
His face lit up and he immediately started after her, “Donna, you are amazing.”
“I know,” she said. “Now, what are your thoughts on Sephora?” Mike’s expression turned apprehensive, “Donna, no.”
“Donna, yes.”