Author's Note That is Actually Kind of Important, Please Read it!
Hello! It has been a long, long time since I wrote any fanfic. Like, we're talking back when Quizilla was blue links on a white background and Harry Potter ruled the fic universe (Not that it doesn't now, but I'm like, so totally over it.) With that in mind, please bear with me if my tags aren't right, or my coding is wrong, or if sometimes things get a little cracky. I'm not gonna lie, guys, I just started writing this without any plan at all in mind. I am pretty sure that it'll eventually be slash? Because... come on. Really all I wanted to say is the that Suits fandom is pretty awesome, and it's the first one in five or six years that actually inspired me to write something, so. Thanks guys! I really hope you like it. Your concrit is welcome, of course, especially if anything gets OOC.
Oh! Also there's a slight AU here.
As the glass door of Harvey's office shut behind him with a soft shush, Mike felt the triumphant look fall from his face. Harvey gazed at him, the muscles in his right eyelid twitching and giving away his annoyance.
"What are you still doing here?"
Mike paused, nonplussed.
"It's," the associate glanced at his watch, "2:15 on a Friday, Harvey, where else would I be?" Mike asked. Harvey made a noise that, for a lesser man, would've been called a huff.
"You're supposed to be at Rene's in twenty minutes to have the final adjustments made and pick up your suit. Of course, with cross-town traffic, you will never manage that now," Harvey pressed a button on his phone, "Donna?"
"Yes?" came the tinny reply.
"Call Rene, have him push back Mike's appointment a half an hour and then call Ray, tell him I need him down here ten minutes ago."
"Yes, sir." Donna almost never called Harvey "sir." Only when she could tell he was really, really pissed off.
"Thanks, Harvey, but, um, why am I getting a new suit?" Mike tried hard not to fidget. He was suddenly on the receiving end of a look that he had thought Harvey reserved for only particularly irksome opposing counsel. The "tell me why I bother wasting my time talking to you" look.
"July 7, 2012, Michael, why don't you tell me?"
Mike swallowed- Harvey never called him Michael, and then blinked. That date popped to the forefront of his mind, printed on Pearson-Hardman letterhead, some memo about a party...
Mike swallowed again, a new anxiety twisting in the bottom of his stomach.
"The associates dinner," he breathed.
"Glad you're up to speed. Meet Ray downstairs, get your suit, and be on time for the party. Not fashionably late on time, not an hour early because you want to impress me time, on time." There was a hard edge to Harvey's voice that made Mike's heart drop slightly.
He decided not to waste anymore time by answering and turned to leave the office.
"Mike." Harvey's tone was one of pure exasperation. Mike froze.
"The Technicron files?" Harvey was forced to prompt him, his voice managing to become even drier.
"Oh, right," Mike swung back around and dropped the folders on Harvey's desk, "I found a clause in the bylaws that-"
"I'm sure your notes are detailed enough that even a poor schmuck like me could figure it out," Harvey interrupted, flipping the manila folder open, "Go."
The suit fit perfectly, of course, but Mike wasn't comfortable. The Pearson-Hardman annual associates' dinner was a pompous affair where every lawyer in the firm took the opportunity to grill any associate they hadn't already assigned a mountain of paperwork to. It seemed to Mike as he nabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a cater waiter that everybody wanted to shoot questions at Harvey Specter's new "wonderboy." He'd had barely thirty seconds since walking into the place (five minutes late, naturally) to wonder why the hell Harvey was so damn late.
The answer was obvious to Mike when she walked in the door ten minutes later on Harvey's arm. New York's best closer made the rounds, smiling and shaking hands and... apparently not having to introduce the woman to everyone. Jessica hugged her. At the sight of her, Donna made a noise that could almost be called a squeal and nearly tackled her. Very un-delicate. Very un-Donna. Mike was so confused he took him a moment to register that Harvey had walked up to join him, the brunette still chatting animatedly with Donna.
"Nice suit," one corner of Harvey's mouth quirked upwards.
"Thanks. Nice date," Mike nodded towards her.
"Angelique," Harvey informed him without being prompted. Mike snorted, cutting off whatever Harvey was going to continue with. The older man glared at him and went on, "My wife."
There was a distinct buzzing in Mike's ears as he felt his jaw go slack. He swallowed.
"My wife," Harvey repeated, clearly amused, "Didn't you know?" he asked innocently.
"Uh, no, Harvey, I didn't know. In fact I distinctly remember making cracks about you being old and alone over the whole Rachel thing not all that long ago. You didn't say anything. You've never said anything, nobody ever said anything." There was an edge to Mike's voice, maybe a strain? He wasn't sure, but he cleared his throat nonetheless, "You don't wear a wedding band."
Harvey shrugged, "She doesn't either. We're not showy."
Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes, and failed. "Harvey, you're the showiest man alive. 'I like this.' Remember?" He held a hand up slightly above his head. Harvey chose to ignore the comment and sipped his drink.
"You spend an awful lot of time at the office for a happily married man." Mike wasn't even sure what that meant, but he said it anyway.
"Angelique spends an awful lot of time on photo shoots and movie sets."
Angelique Specter's face in the background of a poster decorating the bus stop a block from his apartment rose behind Mike's eyes.
"How did I not know you were married to somebody at least a little bit famous?" Mike queried, although the question was more for himself.
"I don't know. You've never Googled me, apparently." Harvey's shoulders rose and fell, but the movement could not really be called a shrug.
"Don't flatter yourself. I've been so busy since I started this job that I barely have time to eat, sleep, and shower let alone spend time gratuitously web stalking my boss," Mike shot back, though he couldn't fathom why he was annoyed. Harvey kept him out of the loop on unessential things all the time. His marital status had no bearing whatsoever on their working relationship.
"Well, now you know. C'mon," Harvey clearly couldn't have missed Mike's tone, but he still seemed rather entertained. He gripped Mike's elbow and dragged him away from the deserted corner where they had been standing.
"Angie," Harvey interrupted her conversation with a quick smirk at Donna and practically shoved Mike in front of his wife as she turned, "Mike Ross."
"Ah," she had a light French accent and Mike choked back a laugh, because, of course, "the infamous Mike Ross."
She held out a hand and Mike shook it.
"Pleasure to meet you," he forced out.
"And you as well. It's nice to properly meet the associate that's been driving my husband to distraction for months. Not to mention showing up unbidden at our apartment." Her eyebrow lifted in a manner that was so distinctly Harvey that Mike wanted to vomit. It occurred to him suddenly that Harvey's apartment, all clean lines and neutrals and leather that screamed Bachelor Pad with every fiber of its existence was her home as well. He did a mental scan. There were no photos of her, of them, anywhere in the living room.
"It's weird to find out Harvey's married." Mike knew immediately from the flick to his ear that he shouldn't have said it, but he kept going anyway, "If I didn't know any better I'd say this is all just one of his many, many schemes to mess with me."
"He's not subtle," Angelique directed her comment at Harvey, who loosed an all-suffering sigh.
"I know. And don't flatter yourself Michael, I don't 'scheme' to mess with you. Things just tend to work out that way more often than not," Harvey replied, the corners of his lips twitching.
Mike blanched. He hated it when Harvey called him Michael.
"The lovely Angelique Specter!" He was saved any further embarrassment as Louis oozed his way over to kiss Angelique's hand.
"Louis," she smiled endearingly at him, but the sentiment did not reach her eyes. Louis didn't notice, and almost immediately launched into a game of twenty questions about the set of her movie.
A sudden, gut-wrenching fear washed over Mike as a new terrifying probability arose. Harvey recognized the look instantly and shook his head. Mike could breathe again. She didn't know. At that, a slow smile crept over his face. Harvey cocked his head to one side and looked him questioningly, still standing with one arm around Angelique's waist as Louis prattled on. Mike shook his head, mouthing "Later."
"I hate for this to be a meet and greet," Mike interrupted Louis without an apology, "But Ms. Pearson beckons, "It was lovely to meet you, Angelique." Mike nodded sharply, once, before turning away from the group.