Hey guys, what's up? That's good. Okay.
So, yes, I know I promised a sequel to A Change of Plans, but for the life of me I can't decide on a decent enough plot. So, while I try to pick something worth writing, I give you this. I wanted to do something different, and since a lot of stories I've read had Harvey taking care of Mike, I switched things up. Yep, I hurt the big bad Harvey Specter :D.
So, anyway, thanks for reading, I do not own anything, and I know this is rushed in some places, I'm sorry, I just didn't want it to turn into something that sounded too slashy (I'm sure slash is good, but I'm just not a slash fan)
So, yeah, leave a comment if you can.
The bar was packed that night, the bartender severing drinks at a dizzying speed. Mike was fascinated by the moves the man made, how he mixed the drinks, and really wished he had better reflexes to do some of those tricks. But, knowing him, he'd have already broken several bottles and would have most likely slipped and fell in some puddle he had made. Yeah, bar tending would never be the job for him.
Laughter brought him back to reality, and Mike let thoughts of bar tending go as he looked back at Harvey, who was humming along to Sinatra's Luck Be a Lady, their client, Maybelle Anders, choosing it moments before hand. She was far from drunk, and it was taking all Harvey had to keep up with her. Mike would have joined in, but Harvey said he needed him sober.
"So tell me, Mr. Specter, why should I choose your law firm?" Maybelle asked taking a swig of her drink
"The question isn't why should you chose our law firm. The question is why you shouldn't join the competition," Harvey replied smoothly, sipping at his bourbon.
"Okay, Harvey, why shouldn't I?"
"Because you want to deal with the best."
Mike was always amazed by Harvey's ability to turn questions around on people. He did it exceptionally well in the courtroom, but it still was impressive when he did it to potential clients. Maybelle was also impressed, a small smile spreading across her face.
"Well, I am looking for the best. How can I be sure your firm is it? I don't want to pay for a firm that doesn't deserve my business. That is going to swindle me out of the money I deserve," Maybelle said gesturing to the bartender for another drink. She was playing hard to get, trying to get Harvey to come to her, but Mike knew Harvey wasn't going to fall for it.
"Here's how I see it. Those other firms are only going to go for the bare minimum. They want your money and they don't care how much you suffer to get it. What we'll do is not only get you what you deserve, but squeeze as much money as we can out of the buyer."
Harvey was using her own greed against her, appealing to the only side she cared about. Mike could tell she was tempted, and knew Harvey just needed to push just a little harder.
"This business is going under, you said it yourself, so why not walk away with a chunk of change in your pocket before you lose everything."
Maybelle's lip twitched in a small smile, and she nodded, "I guess I see your point, Harvey. Where do I sign?"
"I knew you'd see things my way," Harvey replied with a smile just as a waitress appeared with three drinks. She placed all three on the table, being sure to place an amber colored liquid in front of her.
"A toast," Maybelle suggested pushing the amber liquid towards Mike and picking up a honey colored Bourbon.
"I'll have my assistant draw the papers up in the morning," Harvey continued grabbing the bourbon out of Mike's hand before he could take a sip.
"Oh, let the boy have a drink," Maybelle said pushing the amber liquid towards Mike.
"If he's drinking something, it's not going to be that expensive," Harvey replied and switched out his drink for Mike's amber colored one.
"Nothing I drink is cheap, Harvey," Maybelle retorted as she lifter her glass.
"I never said it was," Harvey said coolly and Maybelle smiled slightly.
"Here's to business," Maybelle said and each one clinked glasses. Harvey and Maybelle drained their drinks while Mike took a sip, trying hard not to make a face, coughing as the liquid rolled down his throat
"Oh honey," Maybelle commented laughing. "Next time don't drink it unless you're used to it."
They spoke for another fifteen minutes or so before Maybelle pushed herself to her feet. She smiled down at Harvey and Mike, collected her purse, and said, "See you tomorrow, boys."
As she maneuvered around the crowd, Mike noticed a gawky figure stand and slowly follow her. Mike stood, intending to investigate (he may not be the bravest person on the planet, but there was no way he was letting some pervert touch Maybelle) but was sidetracked when Harvey fell out of the booth, halfway to his feet.
"Oh my God," Mike exclaimed kneeling down to check on his boss.
"What happened?" Harvey asked looking up at Mike.
"You fell out of the booth."
"No, I didn't."
"Then why are you on the floor?"
"'m not on the floor," Harvey slurred trying and failing to pick himself up.
"Harvey," Mike sighed grabbing his boss under the arms and pulling him to his feet. "I think you've had one too many."
"I've never had one too many in my life," Harvey replied swaying back and forth. "I always have just enough."
"Okay, Mr. Hotshot," Mike replied glancing towards the door. "Let's get you out of here."
"'m fine, Michael," Harvey snapped trying to break free from Mike's grasp, only succeeding in knocking a waitress into a patron, spilling alcohol all over the floor.
"Harvey, let's go," Mike said and grabbed his boss's arm again, helping towards the door, ignoring the stares that followed them. As they stepped outside, Mike hoping the fresh air would clear Harvey's head, he noticed Maybelle getting into a cab.
The gawky guy was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean he wasn't lurking somewhere. At least Maybelle was safe. Now all Mike had to worry about was his drunken boss.
"Okay, I'm going to flag down a cab and have it take you home," Mike said keeping a loose grip on Harvey as he waved his hand for a cab.
"W-where am I?"Harvey suddenly asked, his voice full of confusion, causing Mike to look his way.
"Outside of the bar," Mike replied slowly, eyeing his boss curiously. "Remember we were trying to land Maybelle Anders as a client?"
"I-I don't…" Harvey's eyes widened in panic and he pulled away from Mike, stumbling away from the younger man.
"It's okay," Mike said softly, cautiously moving towards his boss. "You're okay." The younger guy tried to staunch his own panic, wondering just what was making his boss act this way. He flashed back to the gawky guy following Maybelle out of the bar. Remembered how the waitress made a point to give Maybelle that amber drink. The same amber drink she gave to Mike. The same amber drink Harvey ingested.
"Shit," Mike breathed just as Harvey's knees gave out on him. The younger man hurried forward, barely managing to catch Harvey before he could collapse in a heap on the ground.
"Okay, let's sit you down," Mike suggested, struggling a bit as he walked his boss towards a bus stop bench.
"Stop touching me," Harvey snapped and pushed Mike away from him. The younger guy fell back and ran into the bench, slicing his hand on the edge. He ignored his wound as he chased after his boss, who was stumbling away as fast as he could, gripping whatever he could to keep himself standing.
"Harvey, stop!" Mike called after his boss. He had to get Harvey some place safe so he could sleep off whatever was in his system. It was most likely a roofie, and Mike tried to recall anything he may have read about roofies as he tried to catch up to Harvey.
"I-I…" Harvey nearly stepped into the road, a car skidding around the corner, but Mike sprinted forward and yanked him away seconds before he became a front page news story.
"You need to sit down," Mike said and helped Harvey back to the bench, lowering him onto the seat.
"I-I don't feel good," Harvey murmured wrapping his left arm around his stomach, his face paling drastically.
"It's okay," Mike replied turning his back on Harvey for a second to wave his hand at an approaching cabbie. As the burly man stopped against the curb, Mike heard a splatter behind him. He turned, noticing Harvey hanging onto the bench as he bent forward, throwing up all over the ground.
Mike heard the cabbie groan, but he stayed against the curb. It seemed the fare was more important than the fact that some dude just vomited.
"Just let it out, Harvey," Mike murmured hesitating for a second before resting his hand on Harvey's back, his boss continuing to heave. Once his stomach was empty, dry heaves wracking his shaking body, Harvey nearly face planted in his vomit.
Mike caught him, helping him to his feet, trying to keep from panicking. If Harvey had, in fact, been drugged the best idea would be to take him to a hospital. Maybe get his stomach pumped, but unless Harvey was bleeding or in severe distress they'd have to wait for assistance. By the time a doctor actually saw them there would be a chance that the drugs would have already started working their way through his system.
The second best option would be to take Harvey home and help him ride out this trip. And if things did get any worse, Mike could easily call an ambulance. With a semi-good plan in mind, Mike helped Harvey into the cab, got in next to him, and gave the cabbie the older man's address.
"Let me guess, pink slip?" the cabbie asked as he maneuvered his cab down the streets of Manhattan.
"What?" Mike asked barely glancing the cabbie's way. He was more preoccupied with keeping an eye on his boss.
"The last person I picked up that plastered had recently been fired," the burly man responded stopping at a red light. Mike nodded absentmindedly, the cabbie's words rolling off of him. He didn't have time to make small talk, he had to get Harvey somewhere safe.
"I've been there, buddy," the cabbie muttered turning the corner. "You are not alone."
I seriously doubt that, Mike thought as Harvey rested his head against the window, but I agree he isn't alone.
It took a few minutes, but Mike finally managed to get Harvey out of the cab. At this point, his boss was boneless and out of it, barely coherent. Mike drew the older man's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own around his waist, and tapped into every ounce of will he had to keep them standing.
"Thanks," he said to the cabbie, handing him some money.
"No problem," the cabbie replied and drove away once the back door was closed.
Mike started walking towards the entrance to Harvey's building, stopping every other step to get a better grip on the older man. It was slow going, but he finally managed to get inside and onto the elevator. When the car jolted, Harvey's face turned green. Mike willed him not to puke, at least not until he made it into the apartment, and was granted that one, small favor.
The doors opened and Mike started down the hallway, dragging Harvey. He made it outside Harvey's door before he realized he didn't have a key. The older man had made an offhanded comment about it, but Mike had been drunk and he would have said anything to get him to go away.
"Harvey," Mike said trying to bring his boss around enough to get the key. "Harvey, wake up."
"Wh'…" the older man groaned, his head flopping uselessly on Mike's shoulder.
"Okay, du… Harvey, don't get the wrong idea," the younger guy responded after failing a second time to wake his boss up. Slowly, as to not alarm the older man, Mike started searching Harvey's pockets for the keys.
"W-what are you…?" Harvey slurred trying to bat Mike's hands away.
"I need your keys," Mike informed his boss, finding them in his left hip pocket. He unlocked the door, Harvey struggling next to him, and managed to get both indoors before the older man's fist slammed into the side of Mike's head.
The younger guy went down, hard, biting his tongue. Everything went dark for a few seconds, but Mike managed to wrench himself back to consciousness. He shook his head to clear it of the fog, his vision blurring slightly. It snapped back into focus, his eyes looking for Harvey.
For one panicked moment, Mike actually thought his boss took off out of the open door. The neighbors probably wouldn't appreciate it if Harvey was stumbling down the halls, trying to get away from the one guy trying to help him. Of course, to the neighbors Harvey would appear drunk and not drugged.
Mike pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little, intending to run out of the apartment in search of his boss, but the sounds of gagging made him stop and turn towards the kitchen. Mike shut the front door and followed the noise, stopping in the doorway.
Harvey was bent over the sink, gripping the edges like his life depended on it, throwing up whatever was left in his stomach. Once his stomach was empty, he collapsed against the counter and slid to the floor.
"Okay, buddy," Mike said, cautiously moving towards his boss. He knelt down next to Harvey, making sure the older man saw him through his half-open eyes, and continued, "I'm going to move you to your room, okay?"
"Mike?" the confusion and vulnerability behind that one word scared Mike. He was so used to seeing Harvey so sure of himself, ready to tackle anything. He knew his boss wasn't invincible, but sometimes he wanted to believe nothing could touch Harvey.
"Yeah, it's me," Mike said softly, nodding. "Let's get you off the floor," the younger guy continued, gently wrapping a hand around his boss's bicep. He heaved, trying to get his boss back on his feet, but without any help it was damn near impossible.
"You need to help me," Mike informed Harvey, but the older man's eyes were already closing, his head lolling onto his shoulder. "Shit," the younger man muttered.
He managed to get Harvey off the floor, after a few minutes of swearing, and dragged him over to his bed. He lowered the older man onto the mattress, watching him lie back. Mike gave himself a moment to catch his breath. Once he had composed himself, he began manhandling Harvey out of his jacket and vest, the older man weakly trying to push him away.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," Mike informed him in a quiet voice, still fighting his panic, wishing he was doing anything else but this. He threw the jacket and vest in a chair by the window. "Please calm down," he begged as he untied and removed Harvey's tie and added it to the pile of clothing. At those words, Harvey stopped trying to fight. "Thank you," Mike said softly.
"This isn't what it looks like," he joked feebly as he began unbuttoning Harvey's shirt. "I'm still just trying to make you more comfortable."
"I don' feel good," Harvey murmured trying to curl in on himself.
"I know you don't," Mike responded in, what he hoped was, a calming tone. "It's the drugs in your system. You'll be fine." I hope.
Once Harvey was down to his white t-shirt, Mike moved his legs onto the bed and removed his shoes. He made sure Harvey was situated before removing a red and green quilt from Harvey's closet and placing it over the slowly fading man.
"You'll be better in the morning," Mike murmured before moving Harvey's clothing off the chair and sitting down, burying his face in his hands.
Mike jolted awake to the sound of quiet crying. He actually thought he was back at his Grammy's on the night Pop-pop died. He remembered how Grammy had cried herself to sleep the first night, when she thought he was asleep and didn't need to be strong anymore. When Mike had been sure she was asleep, he had crept into her room and spent the night on the floor, knowing she knew he was near.
It took him a moment to realize he wasn't at Grammy's. He was at Harvey's place, taking care of Harvey because some d-bag drugged the wrong person. It took him another moment to realize it was Harvey who was crying.
"Crap," Mike whispered pushing himself to his feet. He slowly walked towards his boss, hovering over him with no clue what to do. He had been meaning to look up the effects of Rohypnol, but had fallen asleep before he could get around to it. He hoped this was a side-effect and not some half-drunken/half-drugged type thing.
"A-are you alright?" Mike asked finally, resting his hand on Harvey's shoulder. Mike didn't get an answer. "Harvey?" A closer inspection showed that Harvey was still asleep, unaware that he was crying. Mike wondered what he was dreaming about, but knew he'd never get an answer if he asked.
"It's okay," he opted to say softly, squeezing Harvey's shoulder. "You'll be okay."
When he was sure his boss had calmed down enough, Mike slowly walked out of the room. He spotted Harvey's computer sitting on the coffee table, and made his way over to it. He flipped it open, waiting for it to wake up. Once he was online, he Google Rohypnol, waiting for the results to come up.
Mike clicked on the top article, reading through it quickly, searching out the side-effects. A few were okay: memory loss, sedation, vomiting. Those Mike could handle even if he didn't exactly want to, but when he got to the end of the list he felt his stomach clench with fear: heart and respiratory rates may slow, seizures, and death.
Trying hard not to panic, Mike pulled his phone from his pocket. He couldn't handle this, not alone. What if one of the last three happened and he forgot how to call for an ambulance? He was forgetful even with his photographic memory. He needed help, big time.
"Hello," an annoyed, sleep-filled voice answered on the fourth ring.
"Donna, I need help."
Harvey awoke with a killer headache. He felt sick to his stomach and was fairly certain something crawled into his mouth and died. He slowly sat up, testing his limits, his vision screwing up as a jet of sunlight speared him in the eyes.
He groaned, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the offending light, hearing a familiar voice say, "At least have the decency to close the curtains."
"I'm sorry," a second familiar voice replied and soon a silhouette stepped into the room and yanked the curtains closed. "I forgot how many windows he had in this place."
"Mike, for a smart guy you can be very dense," the first voice commented. It took Harvey's vision a second to clear, but soon he was looking up at a casually dressed Donna and a worried Mike. The former's eyes flashed with concern, but her face stayed impassive, while the latter's shoulders sagged with relief.
"How are you doing?" Mike asked softly, running a hand through his messy hair. Harvey noticed him flinch slightly when his fingers brushed against the right side of his head.
"What…" Harvey's vision blurred again and he shook his head to clear it, his stomach rolling slightly. He breathed through it and continued, "What happened?"
"You were drugged, Harvey," Donna replied and his eyes widened. "Don't worry though, Simon was over around three and told us you were going to be fine." If Harvey remembered correctly, and he could be wrong, Simon was the doctor Donna had been seeing recently.
"Who drugged…?" he tried to recall the night before, but everything past making the deal with Maybelle was gone. "Crap," he whispered trying to get out of bed.
"Whoa, where's the fire?" Donna asked grabbing his arm as he started to list to the side.
"Did you get that paperwork drawn up for Maybelle?" Harvey questioned searching for his phone. "What time is it?"
"It's eleven o'clock, Harvey," Donna replied softly, glancing back at Mike.
Harvey furrowed his eyebrows, glancing out the window. "How long was I out for?" he asked slowly.
"You've been in and out of consciousness for almost eleven hours. This is the most coherent you've been," Donna informed him, sitting down next to him. "You don't remember any of last night or early this morning?"
"I…" Once again, Harvey tried wracking his brain, trying to remember anything, but the last eleven (holy crap) hours were gone. "I remember Maybelle agreeing to using me as her legal representative," he finally said, giving them some type of an answer.
"And then a waitress handed us our drinks," Mike supplied finally speaking, taking a seat in the easy chair by the window. "She placed an amber liquid in front of Maybelle, who pushed it towards me, but you didn't want me drinking. She insisted I take a drink, you took the amber liquid for yourself, and then we toasted."
"Someone was trying to drug Maybelle?" Harvey questioned after digesting Mike's story.
"It wasn't for sabotage," Mike replied probably noticing something flash in Harvey's eyes. "I think he wanted to…" the younger man trailed off, but Harvey knew exactly what he was referring to, "But you drank it instead, so he lost his chance."
"Did you report him to the police?"
"Yeah, after I called Donna I went to the police station to file a report. They called around noon; the man got picked up at a local bar."
"And Maybelle signed the papers this morning. We told her what happened and she promised to pay extra for the 'bullet' you took for her," Donna continued and Harvey nodded.
Harvey was quiet for a moment, looking at Mike. The kid not only managed to get him back home, but he also took charge when he knew Harvey wasn't going to be much help. It prided Harvey to know Mike was becoming a better lawyer than most of the actual Harvard graduates. But he'd never say it aloud.
"What happened to your head?" Harvey finally asked remembering how Mike winced earlier.
"What?" the younger guy questioned, trying and failing to act as if nothing had happened. "N-nothing."
"Mike." The two guys looked at each other, neither saying a word, Harvey knowing Mike was going to be the first to crack.
"You punched him," Donna finally said before the younger man could say anything. "Last night, you panicked and punched him."
"But I'll be fine," Mike said hurriedly. "I don't have a concussion, though you do have a hard right hook even with roofies in your system."
"Did you get checked out?" Harvey asked pushing himself to his feet. He ignored the fact that the room swayed slightly and walked towards his associate.
"I'm fine," Mike insisted.
"Did your doctor boyfriend check him out?" Harvey questioned turning to Donna.
"Simon said he'd be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Harvey, are you worried?"
The older man turned back to Mike and said, "No, I just…" great, how was he going to explain this because he wasn't worried. He didn't worry. "Those drugs must still be in my system," the older man said, saving himself the embarrassment of admitting he was worried; which he was not; not even a little.
"I'm fine," Mike repeated pushing himself to his feet, a smile on his face. "Just so you weren't worried about me."
"I wasn't," Harvey responded.
"It was just the drugs."
"Okay," Mike replied skeptically and walked out of the room.
"It was," Harvey called after him. He turned to Donna, who put her hands up in a 'not gonna get involved' type gesture.
They were quiet for a few moments, but finally Harvey asked, "When did the kid call you?"
"About one; he said he didn't know what to do and he needed help. Harvey," Donna started lowering her voice, "he sounded scared out of his mind. He was really worried about you." Harvey nodded, watching as Mike folded up the blanket from the couch.
"Maybe you should go say thank you or something," Donna suggested coming up behind Harvey. "It is the least you could do since you punched him."
"Are you sure I punched him?"
"He didn't say it verbally, but I could just tell."
"Oh yeah, I forgot, you know everything," Harvey joked turning to look Donna's way. She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, slowly walking out of the room. Halfway there she turned and said, "It wouldn't kill you to be nice, Harvey."
After a shower, Harvey felt mostly human again. He donned a pair of jeans and a hoodie before slowly walking out into the living room. Mike was sitting on the couch, Harvey's laptop sitting on the coffee table, looking at some article.
"What are you doing?" Harvey asked causing the younger guy to jump.
"Uh," Mike started turning to look Harvey's way, "just reading up on Rohypnol." He closed the computer lid, getting to his feet. "Just needed something to do, you know? And I started the research last night, to see what I was up against, and that's when I called Donna. I just didn't think I could handle…"
"It's fine," Harvey said cutting the kid off. "You know," the older man continued, clearing his throat, "you did…" he just had to say it, stop being a wuss and say it. "You did good, Mike," Harvey said hurriedly, before he could over think the words. "You handled the situation well considering how many things were thrown at you, and I'm…" he clenched his hands into fists, before releasing one and clamping it on Mike's shoulder.
He then walked away, leaving the younger man speechless, and headed into the kitchen to see Donna wearing a huge grin.
"Not a word," he said pointing at her.
"I wasn't going to say anything," she replied innocently, but her smile was still on her face.
"I need coffee," Harvey said searching his cabinets for a mug.
"I mean I can't believe…" Harvey walked away from Donna. "Hey, where are you going!" she called after him.
"Back to bed. Maybe you'll be gone when I wake up."
"Love you, too Harvey."