And The One Time They Acknowledged It.

Mike wasn't the type of lover to call his partner perfect—it put the other person on an impossibly high pedestal, and gave them a push so they were bound to fall. Sure, Harvey may have called him the 'p' word once or twice, but to him it meant that Mike was perfect for him, not a flawless god that was too good for this world. Harvey criticized Mike on a daily basis and Mike made a game out of pointing out his boss's flaws to him over and over again, and somehow the two of them still wound up tangled in each other in the morning.

What it came down to was this—yes, you're screwed up, but please never change.

And Mike was well aware that Harvey was sort of emotionally ruined when on Monday, he didn't come to work.

Or Tuesday.

Or Wednesday.

Instead, he'd left Mike a note on his computer saying he was in Seattle schmoozing a potential client, and that the two of them would talk when he came back.

If Mike didn't know Harvey was completely and utterly in love with him, he would think that Harvey wouldn't come back at all—if he had even left New York, that was. But he had faith in him—after all, Harvey had never given up hope on Mike, not even the first day the two of them had met, when Mike was at his absolute lowest.

The office was lonely without Harvey, though—the lights a tad bit too flat, the work not as exciting, and even the view wasn't as good without Harvey standing in front of it. While he was perfectly alright with Harvey riding him, as there was always a bit of a pun there, Louis giving him boxes and boxes full of work wasn't comical in the slightest. It was dull. And he couldn't play the usual game of, 'let me slip innuendos into everything I say to embarrass him' with Louis, who was constantly cracking jokes about Mike's apparent depression.

"I can see why Harvey goes with the puppy metaphor now, Mike," Louis said, a rat like smile curling onto his face. "You really do sulk when he isn't here, don't you?"

"Now why would I do that, when I have your marvellous company?" Mike asked, smiling up at him.

"I detect a hint of sarcasm."

"I detect a hint of annoyance."

"I'm not going to banter with you," Louis stated.

"No, that's Harvey's job—and he wouldn't be happy if he found out you took it. So please, let me do my work and I won't mention to him that you stole both my free time and my soul," Mike said, sitting back down in his cubicle, tapping his pen slightly before diving headfirst into the endless amounts of paperwork.

The clock was his enemy—it ticked by slower and slower when he thought about how much he missed his boss, but flew by when he realised that when Harvey returned, he would have to say something along the lines of I love you forever and ever please please please never leave me! Well, maybe he could make it sound a little bit more classy than that. Maybe he could read a poem? Nope, that was definitely out of the question. After all, he had his pride to maintain.

Bored out of skull, Mike flipped open his phone and sent a quick text to Harvey.

How are things going over there?

He left out a significant portion of text describing how much he adored Harvey and missed his presence—his scent had worn off of Mike's sheets and he was considering breaking into Harvey's place to get his daily fix.

A reply came almost instantly:

Could be better. Are any of the conference rooms available?

Business. Just business, naturally—they couldn't have a normal, healthy conversation about their feelings, of course. Because that would be normal, and Mike and Harvey? They were nothing close to that. But Mike had no intention of being the girl and bringing up 'emotions' through something as flat and two dimensional as text message, so he sent back:

Number three. Why?

Harvey's response was curt, as usual.

Grab my laptop from my office and be there in five minutes—I need you to check something for me.

Mike almost threw his phone across the room—preferably in the direction of Louis's head—but firmly bit his lip instead, quelling his frustration. Why did Harvey have to be such a dick? Why couldn't he just text Mike something along the lines of, how's it going, kid? Something—anything that could prove he gave a damn about Mike.

But Mike remained faithful, and stood up, heading for Harvey's office and slipping his phone in his pocket. It still looked the same as before Harvey left, with his records in impeccable condition and his laptop poised on his desk, and Mike wondered why he hadn't taken it with him. Maybe there was one provided for him in Seattle, or he'd left it behind so he could focus solely on wooing this client—but that thing was practically an extension of his soul, so Mike did find it odd. He scooped it up carefully, placing it in its case and heading to conference room three, sending Donna a weak smile as he passed. Her smile was just as weak in return, and Mike saw the same anger he had also running through her veins.

Conference room three was empty when he got there, and he flipped on the central thing he had seen Harvey do a few times before reclining in the chair, opening the laptop.

It didn't have a background, like he suspected, but it was password protected—he quickly typed in his name in the allotted space. He both blushed and grinned when it unlocked, and muttered quietly to himself, "Bullshit, you don't care."

Most of the files scattered about Harvey's desktop were work related, and he ignored them. Instead he went to the pictures folder, knowing Harvey would likely murder him in his sleep if he realised he was thumbing through his private files.

There were a handful of the typical, boring ones that came as screensaver options for the computer, and then he hit gold—pictures of him and Harvey. They weren't taken by Harvey—both of them were in the frame, grinning at the camera, and Mike realised these were probably the photos someone had taken of them at the Christmas party last year. When the photographer had offered to email them to Harvey, he'd responded with a brusque, "Don't bother."

Yet here they were, saved on his hard drive. Come to think of it, they both looked genuinely happy—maybe a little bit drunk, on Mike's part, his smile a little lopsided, but other than that, happy. Maybe Harvey had saved them for that reason—it was hard to find an occasion where both of them were smiling, except when they were together.

The phone ringing shocked Mike out of his train of thoughts, and he hit the answer button, absentmindedly asking, "Hello?" while closing the tab.

"You should say your name, not hello," Harvey responded over the phone, his voice echoing into the room. He sounded stressed and tired, and instantly Mike felt the anger he was harbouring melt into empathy.

"You sound like crap." Mike said, twirling a pen.

"Thank God you can't see me, then," he stated.

"I thought you were 'wooing'."

"It's complicated—look, can you just check my files for the Dawson-Landy merger? I took down my password encryption."

"Actually, you didn't. And my name? Adorable."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "I figured you wouldn't be able to guess it. Now, can you send the file to my email address?"

"Already done. Remind me again why you couldn't have just texted me all of this?"

"Roaming charges. At least this way we can put it on the company bill."

"Alright—are you…I don't know, okay?" Mike asked. He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice but it had somehow still managed to seep in, and he rubbed a hand over his face in slight embarrassment.

"Been better, Dr. Ross, but I still have this tickle in my throat—"

"—hilarious," Mike interrupted. "You know perfectly well what I mean."

Harvey was quiet for a moment, and Mike thought he could hear footsteps on the other end of the line, as though Harvey was moving away from something. "No, I'm not. I don't exactly…do, this sort of thing, Mike."

"You think I'm any good at it?"

"Yes," Harvey stated. "You practically write poetry about every girl that crosses your path."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy? And I'm not nearly as bad as you—pacing all around your office with angst painted on your face."

"I don't do that—"

"Harvey, there's practically tread marks on your floor—"

"Okay, so maybe I pace. But that is purely for stress relief and clearing my head."

"No, you get a hotdog when you need to clear your head. You pace when you're upset—like you did with Scotty, and with Cameron Dennis," Mike said to the empty room, staring at the painting on the opposite wall. All of them seemed to be abstract, as per Jessica's taste, he guessed.

"Don't bring him up."

"Fine, I won't. But you are just as much a romantic as I am, Harvey Specter."

"Bull—and what gives you the impression you know so much about me in the first place?"

"I've worked for you for over a year and I've slept with you more than anyone," Mike stated.

"What's my favourite movie?" Harvey asked.

"Top Gun."

Harvey made a discontented noise. "Second favourite?"

"Mississippi Burning."

"Oh, really? What's my favourite…colour?"


"How the hell did you—"

"—you told me once when we were drunk. You said it was because of the colour of my eyes."

Harvey coughed. "Fine, let's make this more difficult. What's my favourite classic car?"

"Any Mustang prior to the eighties, because they were ugly in that decade."

"What would I name my firstborn child if I had a son?"

"Dean Mike Specter."


"Sharona Specter, after the song. I really hope you never have a daughter—she'd probably turn out to be a stripper."

"What the fu—"

"Point is, I know you better than anybody. I even know that you aren't in Seattle right now—you're in the conference room next to me, you jackass. I can hear you scuffing your toe."

Harvey was silent.

"I get that you don't want to acknowledge this, but we have to. So get over here, because I've been missing you for three days and wondering whether or not you give a damn about me."

Mike hung up, exhaling through his nose and watching the dust settle on the table. It reminded him of Saturday morning, when he'd woken up warm and happy and safe—and he was putting all of that on the line just so he could talk about his feelings?

Why couldn't he just be happy with impromptu one-night stands, witty one-liners and poorly placed innuendos? Why did he need that assurance of love, of happy endings?

Wasn't sex enough?

Didn't drunken confessions and kisses he couldn't remember in the morning last him long enough?

Why couldn't he just love the fantasy?

"That really isn't fair, Mike."

Mike looked up at Harvey, who was scowling at him from the doorway.

"What isn't?"

"Accusing me of not giving a damn."

Mike shook his head disbelievingly, about to open his mouth when Harvey silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I slept with you five times—twice of which I told you I loved you—"

"—you were drunk, and high—"

"—you can't get high off of Advil, kid. Jesus, do I have to spell it out?"

Mike froze. "Shit."

"I did my best to be subtle, but obviously that didn't click. What do you want, sky writing?"

Mike tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again. Words weren't coming—they were sticking to his tongue and choking him. He felt immobile, like he was about to have a stroke or a seizure. He couldn't process this—Harvey…loved him? No, he must have heard that wrong. Did he? He looked up at Harvey—up at his warm skin, his perfectly pressed suit, his hair, which by now, Mike had grown used to seeing fluffy. His jaw was firm and his lips were pressed closely together as though he was angry, but his eyes were sad, staring at Mike as though he'd lost something.

"Why—why couldn't you just…say it? Say something? Anything?" He asked.

"And how would that go, exactly? 'Gee, Mike, I know I'm an asshole and a complete emotional wreck, and you're only attracted to me when you're drunk, but would you like to go out some time?" Harvey responded.

"So…what?" Mike asked, flabbergasted. "You just decided to make a bunch of 'drunk' love confessions and hope I'd catch on?"

"I thought you were smart."

"I didn't believe you because I am smart—I tend to think I can fly when I'm intoxicated, and that doesn't make that true."

"Sure, but you should have also figured out that I'm mature enough to know the correct dose of medication and that I'm not as much of a light weight as you."

"You know what I said about understanding your subtitles? I take that back—I don't. And you're in a completely different language than…oh, I don't know—everyone?" Mike exclaimed, standing up and waving his arms.

"Oh," Harvey said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, "because you're just so easy to understand! I've slept with you five times and every time I've at least said something, but you? Nooo, you're all cryptic and silent!"

"With all the noise complaints I've got from my neighbours? I'm nowhere close to silent!" Mike glared, closing the distance between them.

"I can't exactly tell how you feel about me based on your moans, Mike!" Harvey was gesturing now, and Mike noticed he was missing his tie and a few of his buttons were undone.

"Tone?" Mike asked.

"What, do I look like I honestly spend that much time watching porn that I can recognise every noise you make?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that? And holy crap, Harvey, I never thought I'd have to tell you this, but have some self-confidence, would you? I've slept with you twice sober, and you still think I'm not attracted to you?" Mike wanted to grab him—he wasn't sure if that was out of an impulse to kiss him or to hit him though, so he resisted.

"So you are?"

"Crap, I'm in love with you, dipshit."

"Oh." Harvey said, pausing. He awkwardly raised his arm to scratch the back of his head, disturbing his hair.

"Why did you pretend you were in Seattle?"

"I was—" Mike shot Harvey a look, "—on Monday. I just… stayed home. I figured since you wanted to 'talk' it meant you wanted to let me know you didn't feel the same way."

"You're dumb."

"You're dumb."

"Well, congratulations—we're both in love with idiots." Mike said, putting his hands in his pockets. Harvey sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and his forefinger for a minute, his eyes closed. He turned around, looking out at the hallway to see if anyone was there.

"So—what you're telling me is," Harvey paused, pointing towards his office, "the whole time I was pacing and upset in my office—"

"Ha!" Mike interrupted.

"—you were sitting at your desk, equally upset? About the exact same thing?"

Mike paused, frowning. "I guess so."

"And neither of us thought it might be a good idea to tell the other why we were acting like that?"

"No—I think I just figured out how frustrated Donna must feel on a daily basis."

Harvey nodded, then turned back to Mike. "Are you busy now?"

"Not with anything I actually want to be doing. Why?" Mike asked. Harvey smiled disbelievingly for a second, shaking his head and running his hand over his face, not unlike Mike had done. He inhaled quietly, walking to the corner and pulling a cord. Blinds slid across the glass that exposed them to the hallway, and then he reached down with long fingers and flicked the lock closed on the door.

"Because, kid," Harvey said, stalking across the room and winding a hand around Mike's far too skinny tie, "I've been thinking about doing this for a while."

Harvey was a force of nature when he wanted something, and Mike realised this a second too late when he became prey in the jaws of a predator. Mike felt himself get yanked forward by his poor, poor abused tie into Harvey, their lips hitting full force.

Instantly Mike felt that current of electricity run through his body that came from touching Harvey's skin, but this time it was a thousand times amplified and running through every available nerve in his body. He shuddered and ducked in closer, one of his hands winding its way up into Harvey's hair and the other down his spine, tucking into the soft material and the layers of muscles that were hidden underneath. Harvey tugged on his hair slightly before letting go of his tie and sliding off his suit jacket, his lips never parting from Mike's. Harvey captured Mike's upper lip between his two carefully, holding it there and letting the supple skin linger against his own.

Mike moved in until his chest was pressed flushed against Harvey's, and he let his hand wander around to Harvey's jawbone, his thumb running across the smooth line. Harvey's skin was smooth under his hand, and he had to run a finger up to the corner of his eye to the find fine lines that Mike loved. Mike pressed his forehead to his boss's, causing a lock of his own hair to fall down over his face. Harvey chuckled against his mouth, letting the vibrations run up and down his spine for a few seconds before pushing back the strand into its place.

Mike parted his mouth and Harvey followed suit, their tongues meeting gingerly against one another for a second before winding into the other person's mouth. He sighed softly as he mapped out the inside of Harvey's mouth, trying to discern where he'd kissed before and where he hadn't been. It was impossible to tell, and Mike just treated every touch as though this was his first exploration.

He'd managed to peel Harvey's jacket off and was counting that as a victory when Harvey backed him up abruptly towards the table, pushing him against it. Mike let out a small noise of pleasure and pulled himself onto the table, wrapping his legs around Harvey's waist. Harvey made a sound along the lines of a growl in pleasure pushing Mike farther back until he was practically lying against the table and Harvey was pinning him there, holding his hands in place. Harvey leaned down and licked a long stripe up Mike's neck, stopping only when he reached Mike's jaw to plant kisses all the way to his ear.

Mike let out a moan, and Harvey put a hand over his mouth and whispered, "Shh," in his ear. Harvey's hot breath tricked down his neck and under Mike's shirt, causing him to shiver against Harvey. He swiftly flicked open two of Mike's buttons before planting an open mouth kiss on his shoulder, letting in quickly evolve into more of a gentle bite.

Mike's hands were winding their way up and under Harvey's shirt when a knock sounded suddenly against the door, abrupt and impatient. Both of them froze for second, blue eyes locking with brown while they quickly disentangled themselves from one another, Mike doing up his buttons and Harvey pulling on his suit jacket with a murderous look on his face.

He crossed the room quickly, and Mike dashed to pick up his jacket and lay it across the back of a chair, making it seem completely natural. Harvey unlocked the door and opened it, glaring angrily at Louis, who glanced suspiciously at the two of them.

"What the hell were you two doing in an empty conference room with the door locked, the lights off, and the blinds pulled?" he asked. "And when did you get back?"

"About an hour ago," Harvey said. "And Mike and I were about to have sex on the table."

Mike was aware that his cheeks were quickly heating up, and he was suddenly glad it was so dark. He couldn't help but laugh at Harvey's bluntness, however, so he let out a laugh that he quickly managed to turn into a cough.

Louis scowled at them. "I honestly do not understand your sense of humour. Either way, it seems like Mike does, so you two freaks are perfect for each other."

Harvey looked back at Mike and grinned, sending him a wink.



Thanks everyone! I'm really glad that you took the time to read my fanfiction, let alone enjoy it! If anyone can guess the song I referenced they can have a skinny tie. I incorporated some ideas some of you accidentally gave me, so let me give credit where it's due:

Phreakycat told me you couldn't get high off of Advil. Thank you so, so much for giving me my ending. I adore you :D

Psionycx commented on almost every chapter. 3

Kaedesanzo (who reviewed anonymously, so I can't PM them this) you may absolutely translate this into Chinese! I'm flattered you asked! I'd just appreciate it if you put I wrote it.

Steve is my fantastically awesome editor. And friend.