By carnifax (originally posted to tumblr)
Loosely based on Matt Nathanson's "Faster"
Romance | General
"You were late," Harvey says, but there are a hundred things he doesn't.
Harvey was never a patient man, but today feels like the slowest morning in the history of the world. There are manila folders piling up on Donna's desk - everyone who has neared the office has inexplicably changed route after glancing at Harvey, so thus far none of his work has been delivered successfully, and Harvey doesn't care enough to fetch it - while the redhead herself has disappeared to who-knows-where. Louis is at his absolute worse, smug and high on power after Friday's win in whatever substandard case he was assigned to. But it's already Monday, and Harvey thinks that that smugness should've well worn off by now. He glares at Louis as the man passes, completely oblivious, outside the glass windows, and then puts down the baseball he's throwing between his hands and presses the intercom button.
But Donna's not at her desk, after all, and he already knows where Mike is. Or at least, where Mike was. It was his gram's birthday on Saturday, and Harvey had grudgingly allowed Mike to take her to his house in the Hamptons for the weekend. But Mike was supposed to have dropped his grandmother off early this morning and then made it into work by 8:15.
But it's 8:43 now, and Mike isn't anywhere to be seen.
"Did you just try to page me?"
Harvey's head jerks up to see a rather amused-looking Donna hovering in the space between the open door and her desk. "No," he answers immediately, but then, "Yes. It's nothing."
She's smiling, and Harvey doesn't know why.
When she doesn't move or speak for a good few seconds, Harvey picks up his baseball again and leans back in his chair. "What?"
"If I'd known that you'd be this antsy without him around, I never would've suggested the house-in-the-Hamptons idea."
"Antsy?" Harvey laughs, tossing his baseball between his palms again. "I'm not-"
"How much work have you gotten done so far this morning?"
He glances down at the paper in front of him. It's not even work-related (far from it - it's the newspaper page that lists movie times, because last week Mike mentioned wanting to see a movie that just came out, and, well...), but Harvey shuffles it into a pile of legitimate documents and looks up at Donna. He's about to say something when the elevator cheerily dings open at the end of the hall, and Mike appears around the corner, wide-eyed, out of breath and stumbling a little.
Harvey sits up a little straighter in his chair - he ignores the way Donna raises an eyebrow - and peers out the glass wall, waiting for Mike to get close enough. Mike smiles at Donna and mumbles something, still half-tripping his way down the hall, and then it happens. Mike looks directly at Harvey and suddenly his eyes crinkle a little more at the edges, his smile widens and he practically falls through the doorway, almost panting from the rush.
Harvey feels like he can't breathe either, his heart is pounding so fast. There are sparks under his skin, elevating every sensation, speeding up time again. His brain is trying to catch up to the reality: Mike is fine, Mike is back, Mike is here-
"Sorry I'm late," are the first words out of his mouth, less words than enunciated laughter. He slings his bag onto a leather chair as Harvey gets up from his desk. "What did I miss?"
But Harvey doesn't answer. He walks past Mike, gently grabbing the kid's sleeve and pulling him toward the record shelves of the office. It's the blind spot of the rest of the office, where only Donna could see them - and Harvey knows she wouldn't look.
Mike's breathing is still slightly uneven when Harvey all but shoves him back against a shelf. "Harvey-"
But Harvey cuts him off with his mouth. Harvey's hand sweeps up the back of Mike's neck, his fingers twisting in the longer, gelled hair at the top and tugging possessively. Mike exhales sharply at the feeling, a grimace and a laugh all at once, but Harvey doesn't let go; he only pulls tighter and tongues deeper into Mike's mouth, demanding and impatient. Mike's hands clench around Harvey's lapels as Harvey's free hand digs strong fingers into the flesh of Mike's ass - and then suddenly Mike's hands are flat on Harvey's chest, firmly pushing him away.
"We're at work, we're at work, we're at work," Mike murmurs, voice raw, his breathing uneven for a different reason now. He leans his head back against the shelf, grinning lazily at Harvey. Neither of them move away. "What was that?"
"You were late," Harvey says, but there are a hundred things he doesn't. I was worried. I didn't hear from you all weekend. My bed was cold. The apartment was too quiet.
I missed you.
Meanwhile, Mike laughs. "If this is the punishment I get for being late, I might come late to work more often."
Harvey just shakes his head and starts to disentangle himself from the kid. "I'll just have to be more creative next time it happens, I guess."
Mike exhales a laugh and drops his hands from Harvey's lapels. "Creative in a good way?" he asks, leaning closer.
"We'll see." Harvey kisses him once more and turns on his heel, returning to his desk. "Now get to your cubicle, before Louis realizes you're late. He left a stack of briefs by your computer about half an hour ago."
"And I'm sure the pile's gotten bigger since then," Mike mutters, pulling the strap of his bag over his head. He heads for the door, but just before he reaches it, he stops. "Oh, and Harvey?"
"What is it?"
Mike waits until Harvey looks up to flash him a brilliant, knowing grin. "I missed you, too, you know."
Harvey holds the kid's gaze for half a second before he has to look down, doing his best not to smile. This wasn't supposed to happen, not to him, not to Harvey Fucking Specter. He wasn't supposed to feel like this.
But he does.
"Yeah, Mike. I know."