Chapter Text
Kiss me on the mouth and set me free
But please don't bite
-Troye Sivan, "Bite"
Mike’s hand is shaking, his grip on the suitcase slipping, and his mind absolutely flooded with anxiety. He looks up at the building in front of him, unable to walk in. A few hours ago, he was in his apartment making a list of the pros and cons of doing this. He’s now repeating that same list under his breath, trying to convince himself that going through with such a miserable plan was going to be worth it in the end.
He groans when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. The last thing he needs is a distraction.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Did you make it there alright?”
It was Trevor.
“Uh…yeah. I’m here.”
“Good! Great! Look ace, this one’s important. The boss will have my ass if it doesn’t get done, but I trust you to make it happen. Go in and out. That’s it. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t even look at anyone. It’ll take five minutes, tops.”
“Trevor, I don’t think I-”
“Five minutes. That’s all. In and out.”
“What if I get caught?”
“Nobody’s going to be suspicious about a well dressed sub minding his own business in a hotel that usually hosts self-absorbed business men and women anyway. Just act like you belong there, ace.”
When Mike says nothing, Trevor speaks up again.
“Can you do this, Mike?” Trevor asks, dropping the nickname.
Mike bites his lip hard. He’s gone and made his friend all serious and concerned now. Trevor rarely calls him by name. He looks at his watch and back at the building.
“I get the money today, right Trevor?”
“Yeah man. Just exchange cases, bring it back to mine, and I’ll pay you.”
Mike lets out a deep breath.
“I can do this.”
“Good. Just be calm and you won’t make any mistakes.”
“Yeah, ok,” Mike says, hanging up the phone.
He enters the hotel lobby, languidly makes his way to the elevator, and presses the “up” button. As he waits, he notices a sign directing people to some law firm interview being held in the conference hall.
“Are you here for the interview too?”
Mike turns his head and sees a frazzled blond-haired sub looking much more nervous than Mike felt.
Mike just blinks at him, turning away quickly once he remembers Trevor’s rule about not looking at or talking to people.
The blond sub just continues to speak.
“I saw you looking at the sign and thought that maybe we can go in together? You know, have a subs united front if we end up walking into a room full of Doms clawing for the same job?”
Mike taps his foot, hoping the elevator is making its descent. It’s moments like this that make him bitter toward power dynamic laws that force subs like him to wear a dark green band on the right wrist for identification. It was strapped onto Mike on his 13th birthday and he was too naïve to fight against it, even though any fight would have been futile. Still, the permanence of the band itches at him; everyone will always know what he is. He’s not ashamed of being a sub, but having his designation so easily known does come with a set of annoyances.
The sub next to him is still chatting his ear off, despite Mike not speaking to him once, and is now talking about job statistics concerning submissives. Mike can't deal with it; can't deal with the buzzing chatter of a nervous boy when he's a nervous boy himself. Between the both of them, there's enough uneasiness in the air already.
After all, Mike’s holding a suitcase filled with drugs.
Hard drugs.
He’s doing a fucking drug drop off.
His life isn’t easy right now either.
He’s scared too.
The sub beside him really just needs to take a hint and leave him alone.
“Why are you waiting for the elevator?” The conference hall is on the first floor,” the sub asks.
“Oh my god! Just walk away already! I’m not here for the damn interview! Jesus!” Mike gives the sub a hard look that could rival any Dom’s.
But then the sub starts looking hurt by his outburst, and dammit, Mike just isn’t that person. He never yells at people, certainly not sensitive subs. Trevor’s assignment is clearly taking a toll on him and he hates that, but he’s in too deep now and he's desperate for the cash.
“I’m sorry, ok?" Mike's voice is softer, calm. "I’m not here for the interview, but I wish you all the luck. I hope you get it.”
Just as Mike finishes his sentence, the elevator opens and he quickly gets in.
He hears a quiet “thanks” from the boy before the doors close.
Mike flushes when he notices two officers near the room he needs to make the drop off at.
He grips the suitcase tighter, tries to walk casually past them, but he knows they know. They’re still standing against the wall, not making a move toward him yet. Mike quickens his pace, just slightly, but at the officers' first step in his direction, he breaks into a full on sprint.
He runs – he’s fast as hell for a sub, but Doms were something else – and thanks God there is a stairwell he can slip into. His lead is decent and he makes his way downstairs as fast as he can. When he makes it to the third floor, he opens the door and slams it shut hard, making sure the cops hear it. He hopes the trick works, hopes that his movie-watching has done him some good and that the cops will think he’s gone onto that floor. He keeps making his way down again, no sign of the cops behind him, and reaches the first floor. He runs through the conference hall, absolutely sure there is a back exit.
A voice in front of the conference room stops him, though.
“Rick Sorkin?”
Mike looks at the beautiful, red-headed Dom and then looks behind him to see who she’s speaking to.
“What?” he dumbly asks.
The Dom rolls her eyes.
“Mr. Sorkin, why should I let you into an interview you are five minutes late to?”
Mike’s nerves feel fried and he’s near tears because of how wrong everything is going. Now he feels confused by the lady’s words and stressed because the cops are after him and he is so fucking screwed, he just wants to melt away. He clearly isn’t thinking because the next thing he says is sort of regrettable on all counts.
“Look lady, I don’t care if you let me in or not, I’m just trying to ditch the cops.”
Mike’s eyes go wide and he slaps his palm to his mouth.
The Dom raises an eyebrow at him, but Mike can’t find the words to backtrack. He’s frozen in place, wishing he had just stayed in bed this morning.
“You’re funny,” the Dom says to him finally. “I’ll let you in, Sorkin, but I have to warn you. If you're even half that disrespectful to Mr. Specter, the consequences will be unpleasant.”
With that, the Dom leads him into the conference room and Mike is too stunned to correct her on who he really is. At the same time, he's glad for the cover. He wasn't planning on a law firm interview, but he knows he's smart enough to wing it. And if it keeps him away from the cops? All the better.
The suitcase hits the doorknob, but Mike hardly pays attention to it because once he's in the room, he is completely focused on the gentleman sitting behind a large wooden desk. The man is unfairly attractive, with clothes that look sharp and hair that is well groomed. Dom, obviously. Mike feels like he’s practically drowning in all the authority and confidence the man is exuding.
He kind of wants to pat himself on the back for not falling to his knees right then and there.
“I’m Harvey Specter,” the man says, rising from the desk and walking around to extend his hand to Mike.
"Specter, as in 'Pearson Specter Law Firm' Specter?" Mike asks in awe. His right hand is too preoccupied with holding the suitcase, which is heavy. Mike also realizes the latch had been dented from hitting the door earlier, so with a thumb pressed on it to keep it closed, he cautiously, but quite awkwardly, tries to switch it to his other hand, not wanting to leave Harvey hanging. He wracks his brain to figure out how long is too long to leave a hand unshaken before it’s considered rude.
"Yeah. That Specter," Harvey confirms, unamused, hand still in the air. "I run the firm with my partner Jessica Pearson. Did you not do your research before coming in, Mr. Sorkin?"
Mixed up in his thoughts and his efforts to manage the suitcase, Mike accidentally releases the latch on the case and all the cocaine within it falls out.
It was like watching something happen in slow motion.
Mike, mortified, quickly starts blabbering out miserable excuses as to why he’s in the possession of so much...illegal-ness.
It’s not what you think it is!
It’s not mine, I swear!
I don’t know who put that there, but it wasn’t me!
Harvey holds his hand up, signaling Mike to stop talking. Mike watches as Harvey kneels down and picks up one of the cocaine packs and turns it over in his hand, studying it carefully.
“You’re not Rick Sorkin,” he states simply.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Mike starts. “…sir,” he adds, to sound extra sweet.
Harvey gives Mike a stern look, suggesting that he knows exactly what the boy is trying to do, but Mike continues speaking anyway.
“You can’t call the cops on me! I swear I’m not a drug dealer. This was a one-time thing and I’m not ever doing it again. I just really needed the money. I’m so sorry, sir. Please don’t call. Please.”
“You’re Mike Ross,” Harvey says, ignoring Mike’s entire spiel.
“Wh-What?” Mike splutters.
“Mike Ross. Trevor’s friend. Was supposed to deliver this to room 603 about…” Harvey looks down at his watch. “About 20 minutes ago,” he finishes.
Mike stumbles back, dropping the open suitcase he’s still holding onto.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says weakly.
“Boy,” Harvey growls. “You better think hard then. You’re dealing my product and I’d like to know what it’s doing here instead of upstairs.”
“You’re…You’re Trevor’s boss?”
“Good. You’re catching on. Now answer my question, Mike, before I put you on your knees and make you,” Harvey threatens.
Mike watches as Harvey's features darken, his anger clearly evident.
“Cops,” Mike swallows hard. “There were cops near the room. They chased me but I lost them on my way down here. I swear I did! Then the lady outside thought I was someone else and well, I don’t know. I’m here now.”
Harvey rubs his face, looking exasperated. He pulls out his cell phone and begins to dial.
“Pick this up and put it back in the case,” he says, pointing to the cocaine packs.
Mike nods eagerly, not wanting to ever be on Harvey’s bad side. Trevor told him some crazy stories about his boss “Hal” and Mike’s now even more convinced that he should’ve never done this gig for Trevor no matter how much he needed the money to pay for his grandmother’s living expenses.
Mike looks up to see that Harvey has his back turned away, speaking harshly into his phone. Mike shudders involuntarily. He’s not in a good position right now.
With the last pack placed neatly in the case, Mike stands up and wrings his hands anxiously.
Harvey hangs up and turns to give Mike an indescribable look. It’s not exactly the angry stare it was before. More like calculating.
“Trevor says you took the bar and passed, though you never even finished college. He also told me you have an eidetic memory, making you a quick learner.”
“Um…” Mike’s speechless. It’s such a random statement, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He really just wants to leave and forget this all happened.
“He said I should hire you as my new law associate, said you’d be good for the work,” Harvey continues. “Said you’re loyal and obedient and an un-guardian-ed sub. He even went and labeled you as a ‘good boy’, though I’m still waiting to witness that.”
“W-why?” Mike asks. “Why does he want you to hire me?”
“So I don’t kill you instead,” Harvey says bluntly. “He’s trying to save your life, Mr. Ross.”
Mike can feel the waterworks coming, the pleas for mercy are at the back of his throat. His fear spikes up ten-fold. He knows he’s never been this afraid in his entire life. If it happens, if Harvey tries to kill him, he’ll piss himself.
“You’ll…you’ll kill me?”
“I don’t know,” Harvey says. “This hasn’t happened before. My delivery boys usually, well, deliver. I don’t mind that Trevor delegated the task to you. He had my permission, told me his long time friend, Mike Ross, needed money. I agreed because Trevor’s my best guy and I trust him. It’s not your fault that the cops were upstairs, and believe me when I tell you I’ll find out how that happened, but you and I were never supposed to meet, Mr. Ross. As you can see, I also have a professional reputation to uphold here. And now you know who I am and I barely know who you are. I’m not so sure my secret is safe with you.”
“It will be! I won’t say anything to anyone! I’ll forget this ever happened! I want to forget!” Mike's pacing now, feeling close to hysterical.
Harvey's watching him, unmoving and relaxed as ever.
“And I want to believe you, sweetheart, but I can’t risk it. However, if I hire you as my associate, you’ll be under my thumb. I’ll have your loyalty, because you’ll be my submissive by law. I’ll watch your every move. If I become your Dom, you won't even have the space to breathe without my permission, let alone go out behind my back and betray me. Trevor knows this. It’s why he was trying so hard to persuade me.”
If Mike wasn't panicking before, he definitely was now. The thought of being Harvey's submissive just induces chills down his spine. He knows that un-guardian-ed subs in the workforce are put under the guardianship of a Dom superior, at least until the subs leave their jobs or are courted outside of work and the guardianship transfers. It’s meant to keep subs responsible and productive. If a sub screws up at work, someone there should have the right to correct them. At least that's what the government argued.
Subs like Mike are rare. Most subs have a Dominant guardian. Whether it's a parent, a lover, or a boss. Even though Mike's grandmother is a Dominant, she just can't look after him anymore.
“So did it, uh, work? Did Trevor convince you?” Mike asks.
Harvey stares at Mike, jaw set and hands in his pockets. After a moment of this, Mike’s not brave enough to look at him anymore and instead starts studying his shoes - cheap loafers that are kind of torn and a little muddy from the morning rain. Breathing gets harder when he feels Harvey moving closer to him. The scrutiny isn't really welcome, but Mike's between a rock and a hard place. He literally can't do anything but stand there and be stared at.
He jolts when a rather large hand combs through his hair. Instinct tells him to lean into the much needed comfort (the day has been hell and Mike doesn’t even know if he’ll live to see the end of it), but he always overthinks things. His instincts never win out when his brain is in overdrive. Mike shies away from the soothing touch, too afraid of the implications that come along with it. Harvey still looks him over though, not deterred at all by Mike's discomfort.
“Fuck it,” Harvey mutters under his breath, stepping away from Mike.
Mike looks up in time to see Harvey crack open the conference room door.
“No more interviews, Donna. I found my guy.” Harvey shuts the door again and turns to face Mike.
“You what?” Mike asks.
“You work for me now,” Harvey says calmly. “I won’t kill you.”
“And if I decide I don't want to work for you?" Mike squeaks out. "You'll kill me then?”
“Choose what you want,” Harvey says, noting Mike’s distress. “But I think you should take the job. I’m not an easy man to work for, but the pay is good. A lot of people would love to have an opportunity like this. Subs especially, in such a Dom-dominated profession. Most importantly, I'll give you my protection. I’ll take care of you.”
“Why do you even want me?”
Harvey ignores the question.
"Pick your poison, Mike."
Mike’s mind is reeling. How the hell did all this happen? It was supposed to be an in and out job. It was supposed to be five minutes. Mike stares at Harvey until his anger at the situation takes over.
"I don't want this! Who the fuck do you think you are? This is bullshit!"
"You don't speak to me that way," Harvey says lowly. Mike knows that tone, the authoritative tone of a Dominant who is *this* close to putting a sub over their knee. "I know you're upset, so consider this a warning. If you shout at me again, you'll be a very sore and sorry boy."
Mike tenses, knowing full well it's not a bluff.
"I don't want this," Mike says, nicer this time. It's sweet and genuine and quiet, but still backed with all of his heart-wrenching emotions.
“I know you don't," Harvey says. "I know. But you're going to take this job, kid. Aren't you?"
Mike's entire body is numb and he feels the tears already racing down his cheeks. Everything is so fucked up.
But he nods.
“Hey,” Harvey says softly, walking to Mike and lifting the boy’s chin up, forcing him to make eye contact.
“Believe it or not, I’m trying to make the best out of this shitty situation. I would have preferred it if this never happened, but it did. I need you to not treat me like I’m so terrible. I didn’t force you to come here and drop off the suitcase. You decided to do that. You knew the risks. Be grateful I've shown you mercy, that I'm giving you this job. You know very well there are more qualified applicants sitting outside this door. Things could be much worse, ok?”
“Ok,” Mike answers quietly, wiping his tears away. He couldn't look at Harvey before, and he can't look at Harvey now.
“Come on. Trevor arranged for the drop off to be relocated. We have to leave now,” Harvey says, leading Mike out the door. "He saved your life today. Call him on the way so he knows I haven’t eaten you up alive.”