Tatau
Mike is visiting with Rachel—resolutely not hiding from Harvey after being yelled at (again)—discussing hings that have no relevance to any open cases to keep his mind off the fact that he let Harvey down (again). They've covered sports (he follows the Jets, she follows the Giants, they agree to disagree), movies (he likes things that make him think, she likes movies where things get blown up), and food (they agree on Italian and disagree on Mexican) when she brings up tattoos.
“So, have any tattoos?” Rachel asks him, her eyes smiling.
“Maybe...” Mike smiles back.
“C'mon, Mike. Just a peek? I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Mike's smile widens. He likes Rachel, sure, but not in the way she wants him to. He hasn't quite figured out how to tell her that yet, but knows he should do it soon or risk breaking her heart. He's opening his mouth to respond when his phone buzzes on the table. Harvey. Mike gives Rachel and apologetic smile and texts a quick response before standing.
“Bossman. He must've decided to forgive me.”
Mike's almost out the door when Rachel calls after him.
“Mike?” He turns to look at her, “Harvey doesn't forgive people. At least not without a lot of groveling and several expensive bottles of alcohol. I don't think he's as mad at you as you think he is. Just give him some time and he'll catch up.” She waves at him and picks up her own phone, a clear dismissal. Mike leaves, her words replaying in his mind as he seeks out Harvey.
Maybe he doesn't have to explain that he's in love with somebody else to her; maybe she already knows.
Almost a week later, Mike has helped close one deal and unknowingly got a new one started. Jessica is suitably impressed and Harvey deigned to tell him “good job”. He's sitting at his cubicle when Rachel walks by.
“Hey, Mike. You decided to show me your ink yet?” She smiles, dropping a file on the desk of an associate three cubicles down.
“Still thinking. It's my one big secret and I already know what your tattoos are, so there's not much incentive.”
He'd swear that she pouted for a second, but she doesn't press the issue. Instead, she laughs softly to herself and walks off, almost running Harvey over on her way out. When Harvey stops at Mike's desk, he has an odd expression on his face that Mike can't quite name.
“C'mon, meeting with a client.” Even Harvey's voice sounds off. Mike files it away and rushes to catch up with Harvey, who's already halfway to the elevators.
Harvey spends the next week and a half being nicer to Mike than usual. He buys Mike coffee, lets him come to more than half of their client meetings, and then he stops by Mike's cubicle after every other person in the firm except for the cleaners have gone for the night.
“Harvey? What are you still doing here?” Mike is genuinely confused. It's almost eleven and Harvey only stays late if Jessica asks him to and even then not always.
“Looking for you. I thought I told you to go home and get some sleep about three hours ago.”
Mike mutters something under his breath.
“I'm sorry, what?”
“I said I can't go home tonight.”
“And why, pray tell, can't you?” Harvey's leaning on Mike's cubicle at this point.
“Because I missed my rent for the third month in a row and my landlord rented my apartment to somebody else.” Mike doesn't look Harvey in the eye as he says it. He's ashamed of that fact enough with having to see the disappointment in Harvey's face as he finds out his associate can't even keep an apartment.
“You know he can't just kick you out, right?”
“Yeah. I got my notice two weeks ago.”
“And the firm gave you a twenty-five thousand dollar signing bonus. You could have moved out with that kind of money.”
Mike looks up at that, a fire in his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I have better things to spend my money on than fancy suits and nice apartments.”
Harvey's eyes narrow at the emotion in Mike's voice.
“Mike, what's going on?”
“It's nothing, Harvey. Just...can I crash in your office tonight?”
“Mike, you can't seriously think I'm going to let you sleep on that couch.”
“Harvey, c'mon. It's just one night, maybe two and I promise to wait for the cleaners to leave and get up before anybody comes in in the morning.”
“You know, for being so smart, you're really stupid sometimes.” Harvey turns to walk away, “C'mon. Let's get dinner.”
At the mention of food, Mike's stomach rumbles. He doesn't see the smile that spreads across Harvey's face because he's busy grabbing his jacket.
He follows Harvey to the parking garage warily, used to taking the chauffeured company car whenever going anywhere with Harvey. Mike whistles softly when he spots the only car in the garage. The Mustang is sleek and sexy and Mike's always been a bit of a car enthusiast. He runs his hand gently over the hood as he crosses to the passenger's side.
“Stop drooling and get in. I'm hungry.” Harvey says, sliding into the driver's seat with practiced ease. The engine purrs to life when he turns the key in the ignition and Mike can't keep the goofy smile off his face.
Harvey eases into the street and steers the car uptown but doesn't say where he's going. Mike is confused when twenty minutes later they pull up in front of an expensive-looking apartment complex.
“I thought we were going to dinner?”
“We are. We're here.” Harvey tosses the keys to the waiting valet and heads into the building. Mike follows, still slightly confused.
“Oooookay. You've got me. I'm lost.”
“We're going to have a meal that most people refer to as dinner. I thought we'd established that.” Harvey gives Mike bemused look as he presses the button for the top floor on the elevator.
“But this is an apartment building, not a restaurant.”
Harvey actually huffs out a laugh at that.
“Mike, when was the last time somebody cooked for you?”
“When I was twelve.” Mike says softly.
Harvey turns his head sharply at the admission. He knows that Mike's parents are gone, but to hear that is something else entirely.
“Mike, I--”
“Don't. It's the past and that's where it's going to stay.”
Harvey nods and the elevator doors open a moment later. There are only two doors to choose from up here, each apartment taking up half of the entire floor. Harvey goes right and Mike follows. There is no key, just a number pad by the door. Harvey keys in a number—31905, Mike can't help but see it and file it away—and the lock clicks open. He pushes the door open into one of the nicest apartments Mike has ever seen in his life.
“You can borrow some clothes until you can get yours from wherever they are in the morning.”
“So you won't let me sleep on your couch at the office, but I can sleep on your couch here?”
“Nonsense. I have a guest bed.” Harvey throws the words over his shoulder as he heads down the hallway towards what Mike assumes is the master bedroom.
“I'll just...wait here, then.” He says softly, his gaze drawn to the nighttime skyline outside the picture windows.
Mike thinks of Harvey and what he wants, but can't have, and about his grandmother and his future. He's startled out of his thoughts when a hand falls on his shoulder.
“Easy, tiger. What's got that brain of yours so occupied that you missed me calling your name?” Harvey's almost smiling, his eyes have that slight crinkle they get when he's trying not to let his amusement show. He's changed out of his typical three-piece suit into blue cotton pajama pants and a faded gray tee that doesn't do nearly as good a job of concealing his toned body as his suits do.
“A lot of things.”
“Care to share?”
“Not right now.”
Harvey nods, giving Mike some space.
“Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. I left some more comfortable clothes out on the bed for you. Second door on the left.” Harvey heads back to the kitchen. Mike gives the view one last glance before he follows the given instructions.
On the bed is a pair of black cotton pants and a gray shirt with “HARVARD” emblazoned in faded print across the front. It hits Mike as he's pulling it on that the shirt probably belonged to Harvey when he was studying there. Being allowed to wear this shirt, to Mike, is an honor. There's an empty dry cleaners' bag next to the clothes and Mike guesses it's for his suit. He hangs it on the nearby rod and heads back to the kitchen. He can smell garlic and shrimp and his mouth waters the closer he gets.
“Smells good.” He says, sitting down at the bar across from where Harvey is turned away, bent over a frying pan.
“Tastes better.” Harvey flips the shrimp that are in the pan twice like a pro before he switches the heat off. He's already portioned out pasta and dumps some of the shrimp on each plate.
Mike eyes the offered plate warily, but takes a bite. He concedes that it does taste good and says as much to Harvey. All he gets in return for the praise is a brief smile and a glass of white wine. Harvey sits across from him at the bar and they eat in mostly silence. Harvey puts their plates in the sink when they're done, but doesn't wash them. Given that it's past midnight, Mike can't blame him.
“Where'd you learn to cook like that?” Mike asks, curious since Harvey doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would go take a class on cooking.
Harvey cocks an eyebrow at him, “That's my secret. I don't know if you earned the right to know.”
“You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine.” Mike says, taking another sip of really good wine.
“What makes you think I don't know all your secrets?” Harvey leans on the counter, his shirt stretching across his shoulders.
“This one I don't think you know.”
“I know that your grandmother raised you. I know that you spent most of your signing bonus paying off her back medical bills, that you still have that suitcase of weed stashed somewhere as a back-up plan in case you get caught, and I know about your tattoo.”
“You know about it, huh? Then what is it?” Mike leans towards Harvey, a challenge in his eyes. Harvey smirks and that's when Mike knows he has him, “You don't know what it is, though, do you?”
Nothing from Harvey, but a pointed stare. Mike smirks.
“I'll show you if you tell me where you learned to cook. It's more than a fair trade given that you already know so much about my life.”
Harvey squeezes his eyes shut like he does when he's thinking long and hard about something. Eventually he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. He looks Mike directly in the eyes.
“This is me trusting you. The only other person who knows anything more about me than I let them know is Jessica.” Mike nods and Harvey continues, “I learned to cook from my second foster mother, Adelina Moretti. She was a single mom raising three foster kids and working full-time, six days a week. On Sundays she used to teach me to cook, since I was the oldest.”
Harvey isn't looking at Mike when he finishes, fixing his gaze instead on the wineglass in Mike's hands.
“Harvey, I...”
“It's the past, Mike. You told me earlier that what's past should stay there and I'm inclined to agree with you there.”
Mike nods. “Then I guess it's my turn.”
He swallows the last bit of his wine and stands, Harvey's gaze following him intently. He lifts up the borrowed shirt and the top portion of Mike's tattoo peeks out from the elastic band of Harvey's pants.
“Mike, what...”
“You wanted to see my tattoo. I'm showing you.” Mike locks eyes with Harvey and there's a moment where neither of them moves until Harvey nods. Mike pulls the cotton and his briefs off his right hip to reveal the rest.
Nobody has seen this tattoo since he got it. Not Trevor, not his grandmother, nobody. Centered on the most prominent portion of his right hipbone is a spiral, one that was meticulously measured before he allowed the artist to begin the job.
He expects Harvey to ask what it is, to want an explanation for why he got it. What he doesn't expect is for Harvey to get up from where he's still sitting at the island, moving towards Mike. He doesn't expect Harvey to drop to his knees in front of him to get a better look, to reach up and touch the black lines that cross his pale skin.
Mike isn't prepared for the feeling of warm breath and warmer fingers, the jolt of needwantneed that sends a shiver up his spine at the sight of Harvey Specter on his knees, his mouth less than three inches from Mike's cock. He knows that if Harvey doesn't stand up soon, he's not going to be able to miss how much this particular view is affecting Mike.
“Harvey...”
Harvey shushes Mike, a puff of his breath sliding across Mike's skin and Mike can't quite bite back the moan that builds in the back of his throat. Harvey looks up and his eyes lock with Mike's. Slowly, deliberately, Harvey leans in until his lips are on the spot where his fingers just were. He presses a sloppy kiss to the center of the spiral before nipping at it gently. Mike groans louder at that and when Harvey looks up again through his eyelashes, Mike's head is thrown back, his mouth open. Harvey stands, crowds into Mike's personal space and presses his body flush against Mike's; makes sure that Mike can't miss how much he's affected, too.
Mike's head snaps forward when Harvey's hands settle on his hips, a thumb brushing across drying skin. Harvey is looking at him like he's the newest car, the biggest client, like he's something Harvey wants.
“Harvey...” Mike whispers again, breathless and he hasn't even been doing anything.
Harvey leans in, brushes his lips against Mike's as he speaks, “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don't stop.” Mike closes the miniscule gap between them and kisses Harvey for real, groans when Harvey sucks his bottom lip and then slides his tongue between Mike's lips.
His hands unfreeze from where they've been still holding the shirt and pants and move to hold on to Harvey. Mike fists one hand in the front of Harvey's shirt and the other in his slightly mussed hair. Harvey slides one hand from Mike's hip to cup his ass and pull the younger man tight against himself, leaving no gap between their bodies from torso to thigh. Harvey pulls back gently and doesn't miss the small whine of frustration that Mike makes.
“Bedroom?” Harvey asks, voice rough and low.
“God, yes.”
“Lemme lock up. You remember where it is?” Harvey asks, a playful smirk on his face.
“Funny.” Mike quips, smiling back. He walks away, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks. He keeps the pants on as he flops onto Harvey's bed though, just to make the other man work for it.
When Harvey walks into the room, Mike is sprawled in the center of the bed, eyes shut, with one hand gently stroking himself though the soft cotton pants. He opens his eyes in time to see Harvey carelessly drop his shirt onto the floor next to Mike's. Harvey kneels on the bed above Mike, one leg between his and when he leans down to kiss him again, Harvey's thigh presses deliciously against Mike's erection.
Harvey shifts his weight onto one arm so he can slide one hand down Mike's body and cup him through the pajamas. He strokes once, twice, before he grabs the elastic and pulls them off. Mike contorts his body to help. When Harvey wraps his hand around Mike's bare cock, Mike's back arches off the bed; it's been way too long since anybody other than himself did anything remotely resembling this. He reaches up and tugs on Harvey's pants.
“Off. Now.” Mike is half impressed that he can even form words because Harvey's hand feels really good.
“Bossy, bossy.” Harvey quips, but stands to oblige Mike anyway. While he's sliding the pants off, Mike sits up and kneels, his toes resting against the headboard. Harvey walks across the bed towards him after tossing the pants away.
Mike doesn't hesitate, just acts and as soon as Harvey's close enough, Mike reaches out and wraps a hand around Harvey's cock. He leans forward and slides the head into his mouth and sucks, hard, before taking in as much as he can. He's dreamt about this since his first day at Pearson-Hardman, dreamt about using his mouth to make Harvey turn to mush. He looks up through his eyelashes and sees that Harvey's eyes have dropped shut and his jaw is slack, both hands are braced on the window that's behind Mike.
“Mike, Jesus, fuck.” Harvey gets out between soft moans, “Yes, just like that, oh, fuck.”
Mike slips a hand in to cup Harvey's balls, strokes them gently before sliding his mouth down to suck on them, his hand still jacking Harvey's dick.
“Shit, Mike. Fuck, that feels good.” Harvey breathes, one hand sliding down from the window to wrap itself in Mike's hair, leaving a foggy outline on the glass.
Mike licks a stripe up the underside of Harvey's cock and takes the head back into his mouth. He presses with his tongue against the underside, then dips into the slit and licks and the pre-come that drips out. He starts to hum as he slowly sucks his way down until almost all of Harvey's cock is in his mouth. He drags his bottom teeth along the shaft as he pulls back and Harvey's hand tightens almost painfully in his hair.
“Fuck, yes.” Harvey's breathing is getting more erratic and Mike pulls back until just the head is in his mouth. He relaxes his jaw and throat and lets Harvey jerkily thrust into him, “Shit, Mike, gonna...”
Harvey tries to pull back, but Mike puts a hand firmly on his hip to keep him from moving. Mike just sucks harder until Harvey stills and he can feel Harvey's come landing on his tongue. He sucks until Harvey whimpers at the sensation. Mike lets Harvey's cock fall from his mouth and swallows as Harvey sinks to his knees, straddling Mike's lap, and lets his head fall into the crook of Mike's neck. He sucks open-mouthed kisses into the soft, lightly-freckled skin there between harsh pants of breath.
Mike reaches down to wrap a hand around his own painfully hard erection, but Harvey somehow beats him to it and starts stroking him slowly. Harvey presses his thumb against the head on his downstrokes. Mike groans harshly and wraps a hand in Harvey's hair, pulling his head up for a kiss that's all tongues and teeth and it's fucking perfect.
“Fuck, Harvey.” Mike says before Harvey twists his wrist just right and then he's coming all over Harvey's hand and his own stomach. He groans low as Harvey works him through it. Harvey leans back and wipes his hand on the sheet, bending awkwardly to keep from breaking their kiss.
Mike wraps one arm around Harvey and splays his fingers against the curve of Harvey's spine while his other hand rests on Harvey's hip. Both of Harvey's hands frame Mike's face. They kiss for another long moment before Harvey pulls back and looks at Mike, eyes scanning Mike's. He knows there must be a goofy smile on his face, but he doesn't care, just leans into Mike for one more kiss before he slides off of Mike's lap. Harvey slips off the bed and heads into the bathroom while Mike unbends his knees and arranges himself into a normal sitting position. Harvey returns with a warm cloth and wipes them both off gently before tossing the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and crawling over Mike.
Harvey slips under the Egyptian cotton sheets that cost more than some people pay for their entire bed and can't help the smile that crosses his face when Mike curls up against his side, head on Harvey's chest and one leg twined with Harvey's. He presses a kiss into Mike's hair before he drifts off to sleep.
