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Logan's words echo in Mike's head the entire way to Harvey's apartment. He holds his bruised ribs tightly on the ride there and runs his tongue over his busted lip almost without his say so, wincing at the stinging but still repeating the movement over and over again as the taxi he hailed makes its way through the night-time Manhattan traffic. In a way, he relishes the pain. At least this he can fix, as soon as he gets to Harvey's condo. The pain in his chest? Not so much.
Betrayal surges through Mike like fire in his veins and he wishes he could punch something all over again. He wants to cry, to scream, to laugh himself into hysteria.
He can't believe this.
He knows Logan's parting words were meant to goad him. To punch a crack in Mike's psyche and slither in, make a home for themselves until they drive him crazy. He knows. But does it really matter? Does it matter how long Rachel let the kiss go on for, whether she loved it or simply liked it? She's guilty. This wasn't a case of ‘my ex kissed me and I firmly pushed him away as soon as I realised what was happening’. Keeping this from Mike for a week and nearly having a breakdown before she could even get the words out aren't the signs of a guilt-free person.
And she said it herself: ‘Logan and I kissed’. Not, ‘Logan kissed me’. ‘We’ kissed. They did. Together.
“Hey, man, are you gonna get out or what?”
Mike's head snaps up to look at the driver, shocked out of his spiraling thoughts, and he flushes in embarrassment while he fishes for cash in his back pocket.
“Yeah, shit, sorry. Uh, here. Keep the change.”
He shoves the crumpled bills into the man's hand, betting that the money will cover the fare and then some but not caring about counting bills at the moment, then rushes out of the idling car and towards Harvey's building.
His torso protests heavily in response to all the abrupt and careless moving Mike is doing as he stands on the sidewalk and looks up at the towering building. He doesn't even know if Harvey's home. It's late but it wouldn't be the first time Harvey stayed behind at the office, burning the midnight oil on some case or simply lounging in his chair and enjoying a glass of ridiculously expensive liquor while one of his many records played softly in the background.
Or even worse. He could be having someone over, one of the many one night stands Mike has heard of over the years of knowing Harvey, especially now that Scottie's been gone for a while.
The last thing Mike wants is to cock block his friend and ruin what might have been a good night for him. The actual last thing he wants is to catch sight of a half dressed Harvey, basking in the post sex afterglow, while Mike stands on his threshold like an idiot, sporting bruised ribs and a bruised pride, crying to him about being cheated on.
In the end, though, Harvey himself makes the decision for him.
Harvey: Mike where are you? Donna called, said Rachel's inconsolable and doesn't know where you are.
Mike looks down at the phone, the blue light of the screen burning into his retinas, and heaves a sigh that seems to be soul deep. His fingers hover over the keys, debating an answer, but in the end he just pockets the phone and walks into the building. The doorman's eyes widen in alarm at the sight of Mike, looking disheveled and bloody, but when Mike waves him off he lets him in without preamble, telling him that Mr. Specter's elevator is already on the ground floor, waiting for him.
When the glass elevator rolls up to the condo, Mike can see Harvey furiously typing on his phone where he's leaning with his elbows on the kitchen counter, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, and for a brief moment, Mike's mouth goes dry at the sight.
It's not the first time he's noticed Harvey's attractiveness. It would be hard not to, even if he were blind, to be honest. He's pretty sure straight men and lesbians are attracted to Harvey Specter, he's just that good looking. So someone like Mike, who's as bisexual as they come, whose tastes in men align perfectly with everything that makes Harvey Harvey – big brown eyes, assholish exterior, marshmallow soft interior, and a smirk that could send anyone to their knees – well… he never really stood a chance.
But Harvey is his friend. He was his boss first, his mentor, his savior and protector and guiding hand, and is also probably the straightest man in all of existence. That attraction could've never gone anywhere and Mike always knew it. Which is why he hid it all from the beginning, including his own sexuality, knowing it was best if that Pandora's box was left firmly locked. No sense in opening the door for awkward tensions and uncomfortable conversations when they started working together; afterwards, it just wasn't something that ever came up naturally in conversations nor anything that was relevant anymore. Mike learned to force his puppy crush as far back into a box in his mind as he could, preferably never to be opened but in actuality simply occasionally taken out, dusted off, sighed over, and put back in its place.
Besides, he has Rachel.
Or… well. Had. He had Rachel.
Now he doesn't know what the fuck he has anymore.
Brief moment of gay panic taken over by grief and betrayal once more, Mike pushes open the elevator door and steps into Harvey's apartment. The older man's head snaps up in his direction the second he registers the sound of the door opening and his eyes widen in surprise then narrow in familiar overprotective anger when he takes in the state Mike is in. Despite everything, Mike's heart warms at the sight.
“Mike! What the hell happened to you?!”
“I'd say that you should see the other guy but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one bleeding after the fight,” Mike quips, groaning as he tries to straighten up under Harvey's heavy scrutiny and fails miserably.
Harvey scowls. “Get in here, let me clean you up. What the hell are you doing, running out on Rachel, getting into fights? Is this about you getting fired? I told you I'd figure something out.”
Mike follows after Harvey in a way that reminds him strongly of how he used to trail after the older man in the beginnings of his career at Pearson Hardman like a puppy, lost and uncertain but eager to learn and show Harvey his worth, prove that he hadn't made a mistake by taking him in like a stray, eager to please. In many ways, Mike misses those days. Things were much simpler back then.
Harvey bends down and reaches for something under the sink while Mike shuffles closer to the counter and heaves himself up on a stool. Harvey emerges a few seconds later with a worried frown between his eyebrows firmly in place and a first aid kit in his hands, then opens it up and picks things out seemingly at random. There's a headache pounding behind Mike's eyes that has nothing to do with his tussle with Logan and he's too angry still to pay much attention to what Harvey's doing, but the other man's presence and the sound of his steady breathing are doing wonders to put Mike at ease.
“Do I need to check for a concussion too?” Harvey asks, casting him a worried look that his outward irritation can't quite hide after how long they've known each other.
“No, I didn't hit my head. I'm pretty sure. He did though.”
And even if Harvey doesn't yet know what this is about, it goes to show how deep his loyalty for Mike runs (and his care, even if he still puts up a token protest every time Mike teases him about it) when he says, “good,” and aims a proud smirk his way for a brief moment.
“I wish this had been about the job,” Mike mumbles at long last, finally answering his friend's initial interrogation, and winces when Harvey starts dabbing at his busted lip with something that smells like a hospital.
“Well?” Harvey snaps without any heat, making an impatient noise in the back of his throat, when Mike doesn't elaborate. “Do I need to take out the pliers and pull the words out of you or are you going to give me a straight answer any time this century?”
“Can't exactly give straight answers when I'm not,” Mike shoots back, the answer on the tip of his tongue and out of his mouth before he can even think about it. Fuck, maybe he did hit his head while he was wrestling Logan after all. He jolts in surprise, eyes wide as they stare at Harvey's forehead. The older man is bent slightly, gaze fixed on Mike's lips and hand hovering near the injury there, and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room for the eternity it takes Harvey to break the tension with a snort before Mike's lip starts stinging again when Harvey resumes dabbing at it gently.
“Thanks for coming out to me but that's not what I asked.” Harvey chuckles as he straightens up and grabs something else from the med kit.
Mike's eyes track his movements, casual and relaxed as if Mike didn't just carelessly blurt out something he's kept hidden the entire time they've known each other as a fucking joke. Too casual and relaxed. He knows Harvey isn't hiding discomfort – stupidly attractive or not, Mike wouldn't lower himself to having a years-long crush on someone homophobic, nor would their initial partnership have bloomed into the unbreakable friendship they now have if that had been the case – but the lack of a real reaction, the almost forced casualness in Harvey's movements make Mike feel like he is hiding something. He just doesn't know what.
Regardless, now is not the time to obsess over this.
“I got into a fight with Logan.”
The words are quiet and seem to be ringing in the silence of the condo, but Harvey's reaction is explosive and instantaneous.
“That motherfucker! He attacked you?! I'm gonna rip him a new asshole.”
Mike chuckles bitterly even as he feels something uncomfortably warm bloom in his chest at Harvey's immediate defense of him. “No. I attacked him.” Before Harvey's eyebrows have a chance to come down from his bewilderment, he continues, “He and Rachel kissed.”
“Ah. Shit,” Harvey replies empathically.
“Shit indeed.”
Silence descends on them while Harvey finishes cleaning Mike up. There's not much that needs to be said between them; Harvey understands what's going on better than most and it's not like they've ever had to communicate verbally to understand each other anyway.
Harvey puts the med kit away – for all of Mike's soreness and the blood that had pooled in his mouth because of the split lip, his injuries aren't really the kind that can be treated with more than time and painkillers so the older man has done all he could – and fetches a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. He pours them both a couple thick fingers of alcohol, one glass slightly fuller than the other which he pushes towards Mike, and then he takes a long sip of his own drink while his intense, brown eyes take Mike in from head to toe with the new information in mind.
Mike lets him. Harvey's eyes on him are familiar and, dare he say, even comfortable, especially tonight. He wraps his fingers around the glass – something horrendously expensive, probably, like crystal or diamond or some shit – and swirls the amber liquid around for a long moment without actually drinking it.
In the past, Mike used to deal with his problems by avoiding them. He got kicked out of school and spent the next years of his life delivering packages on his bike and getting high instead of getting his shit together and trying again somewhere else. It was easier to wallow and embrace failure instead of feeling things and trying to fix his mistakes. What if he failed again? Better not to try at all.
When Grammy died, he did the same thing. First it was work, then it was weed, finally it was Tess. Anything but feeling, thinking, grieving. Why confront the loss when he could lose his fucking mind in the sheets or between puffs of a joint?
But he doesn't want to hide now. He doesn't want to drink his anger and hurt and betrayal away, to forget Rachel's tear stained face as she spilled guilt at his feet in the same breath she tried to justify it or act like it wasn't a big deal because it ‘didn't mean anything’, doesn't want to erase Logan's smug face and taunting words.
He wishes he could erase it all from existence and live in a world where nothing ever happened, but he doesn't want to forget that it did.
If he does, he might forgive her. And forgiving Rachel is the last thing he wants to do.
Mike pushes the tumbler away and towards Harvey.
“I can get you a beer instead? I think I've still got some in the fridge,” Harvey offers, already angled towards the fridge at his back, but Mike shakes his head.
“No alcohol. Not tonight,” Mike says quietly.
Harvey's eyes soften in that way that makes them look like melted chocolate, soft and gooey and tasting like comfort, and Mike allows his lips to pull painfully into a small smile. The other man deserves it. Mike seriously doubts he can ever repay this man for everything he's done for him, but offering a grateful smile in spite of his split lip is a small step towards that goal.
“You can crash on the couch tonight but I have work in the morning so I'll probably wake you up,” Harvey says instead of the thousand things hanging in the air, sensing, just like always, that Mike isn't ready to talk tonight.
He sends him another small smile and shakes his head.
“I don't expect you to walk on eggshells in your own home because of me. I can get a hotel room, anyway. I didn't come here to invade your space, I just… I felt lost and you were the only person I wanted to see.”
His words are more honest than Mike meant them to be but he doesn't try to take them back. Because, platonically or otherwise, Harvey's always been Mike's go-to person from the moment he entered that hotel room and spilled weed all over the place. He made the mistake of not going to Harvey with his problems once and it almost ruined them; he's learned that lesson. Now, it's almost instinct to seek Harvey out when he feels like the walls are closing in. No matter what happens, he can depend on Harvey. The world could end and Harvey would find a way to make sure the destruction never touches Mike. It's daunting and humbling and absolutely batshit insane, but Mike can't act like it's not also the most comforting thing in the world to him and that he wouldn't return that loyalty tenfold if he ever were in a position to do so. Harvey's given him everything, there's little Mike wouldn't do for Harvey in return.
“Let me stop you right there,” Harvey intervenes, pointing his whiskey at Mike. “You're not invading anything, I'm welcoming you here. And no way am I letting you brood on your own in a shitty hotel room when you have a perfectly good couch right here and where I can stop you from doing stupid shit like getting into any more fights.”
The corner of Mike's lips pulls up into an amused smirk but he doesn't fight Harvey too much. His couch is unfairly comfortable, after all, and it's not like the prospect of an impersonal hotel room and nothing but his spiraling thoughts for company is an inviting one.
“Okay, Harvey. I'll take the couch.”
Despite all the reasons he has to lie awake the entire night and agonise over memories and the mental image Logan vividly painted earlier in the night, Mike finds himself drifting off to sleep fairly quickly once he and Harvey say goodnight and Mike settles down for the night. The sheet Harvey draped over the couch is soft and warm, fresh out of the dryer, and the pillow smells like Harvey, taken straight off Harvey's bed. Mike turns around until he's facing Harvey's bedroom, door left ajar in a clear signal that the older man is available should Mike need him at any point during the night, and he can faintly hear sheets rustling as Harvey shifts in bed as well as the other man's soft breathing. Mike inhales deeply and on his next exhale he's already halfway to sleep.
He wakes up late into the morning the next day. Mike doesn't remember if he woke up when Harvey came into the kitchen to prepare his coffee, but he knows that he jolted awake for a second when the door clicked shut as softly as Harvey could have possibly made it before he fell back asleep almost immediately after.
There's coffee waiting for him in the kitchen when he sleepily drags himself out of bed, long gone cold but expressly left out for Mike to see, and it brings a fond smile to his lips, which he quickly regrets when it pulls painfully at his injury. Over-the-counter painkillers have been left out as well and Mike swallows a couple of them with a gulp of unsweetened, cold coffee, grimacing at the taste and quickly shoving the mug in the microwave for a minute while he shuffles into the guest bathroom to take care of his business.
Mike spends the rest of the morning thinking about Logan, Rachel, Logan and Rachel, and all the moments in his and Rachel's relationship that should have been the end of it but which, somehow, always led to forgiveness and him pushing forward.
He's not a saint, he knows that. He fucked up plenty of times. Hell, he practiced law without a degree for years and only quit when he was finally, undeniably, faced with the reality of being unable to move forward or get the recognition he would've otherwise deserved if he'd been legit. He would still go back to it in a heartbeat if he had the chance to, as selfish as that makes him, because if there's one thing this whole Sidwell situation has taught him, it's that Mike loves this world too much to ever truly leave it for good. And he was selfish enough to put Rachel at risk by burdening her with the truth of his situation simply because he couldn't bring himself to forget about her and let her go when everything and everyone around him said it was a bad idea.
But suddenly, in the light of everything he's learned last night, all Mike can think about and replay in his mind is every instance when Rachel did or said something that should have told Mike that a real relationship between them could never happen in the real world. That the only way it would ever work is if it happened in a vacuum where he overlooked those things and apologised for things that weren't (only) his fault or gave up on things just to appease her.
Rachel made Mike feel like shit for the thing with Tess, which happened before they ever got together and only after she rejected him yet again, and she brought it up as often as she could to throw it in his face before he finally moved out of his old apartment. But now that she kissed her ex while in a relationship with Mike, after hiding it for a week, with the whole rivals on the Gillis deal context weighing everything down even more, now she says it means nothing. It was a mistake. It happened.
When Mike fucks up (and even when he doesn't), he needs to bend over backwards to make it right. When Rachel fucks up, it's no big deal.
He ignores all the missed calls and unread messages from Rachel – and a few from Donna – in favour of getting dressed and going out. He stops by his their her apartment first, where he takes a shower and packs a bag of clothes and essentials, then he hails a taxi and goes over to Pearson Specter. Only once he's in the lobby does he unlock his phone and pull up Rachel's contact. He hits dial.
“Mike?” She picks up on the first ring, voice breathless and already sounding on the verge of tears, but Mike doesn't have time for Rachel's tears.
“I'm in the lobby, please come down.”
It's petty and immature, but Mike hangs up immediately after, not giving Rachel a chance to say anything else or process his words further. He doesn't have to wait long but he barely feels the passage of time anyway.
“Mike! Oh my God, your face! What happened?!” Rachel exclaims as soon as she catches sight of him, heels clicking on the polished floors as she hurries to his side. Mike evades her reaching hands and puts firm distance between them that clearly screams his desire to be left alone. Even so, Rachel steps further into his space, lip trembling, eyes shining with tears, and for all the love Mike still harbours for this woman, all he can currently feel is a deep seated annoyance at the theatrics and disgust at her audacity to act worried and touchy after everything.
“I kicked Logan's ass, that's what happened,” Mike replies tersely, ignoring Rachel's change in expressions and worried babbling. Instead, he fishes something out of his jean pocket and thrusts the key into her hands with a finality that he couldn't have fathomed before last night.
“What… what is this? Mike, what are you doing?”
Mike lifts his chin stubbornly and looks at Rachel with an icy gaze he hasn't used since Trevor.
“It's over, Rachel. I'm done. What you did… it's not something I can forgive. And frankly, I don't think it's something I should forgive.”
“But… but…”
“Save it.”
“It wasn't anything serious, Mike! It was just a kiss! And it didn't mean anything!” Rachel insists shrilly, desperation clinging to her like a veil. People are looking their way even as they keep going in and out of the elevators but Mike couldn't, frankly, care less.
Instead of all the things he could – and wants to – say, like loyalty and trust and the truth they owe each other as partners, all the things that Rachel could easily dismiss or turn on Mike somehow, Mike simply looks at her and asks, “would it have been just a kiss if it were me? Would it mean nothing then too?”
Rachel gapes at him for long seconds, opening and shutting her mouth repeatedly while her eyes betray the truth, and that's all the answer Mike needs.
“That's what I thought,” he says decisively, nodding tightly. “I'll be back for the rest of my stuff once I find a place to live but I'll call and set up a time that works for you when I do. You can keep my key and the apartment, I don't need it anymore.”
“Mike, please,” Rachel begs with so much desperation that it almost moves Mike, almost makes him pause and doubt his decision. “Don't throw this away because of one simple mistake.”
But then his resolve strengthens and he squares his shoulders as he picks up his duffle bag and moves towards the exit.
“Goodbye, Rachel.”
Mike is eating a bowl of cereal at Harvey's kitchen counter when the man himself walks in through the door. He hears him before he sees him, but when Mike's eyes fall on him, they can't seem to be able to drag themselves away from the sight of Harvey's light overcoat draped almost carelessly over his body and the flush in his cheeks from the nippy wind outside.
“You're still here,” Harvey remarks in lieu of a normal greeting and he sounds almost surprised. Mike raises an eyebrow and slurps his cereal obnoxiously just to see that annoyed crease in between the other man's brows, then giggles like a child when Harvey huffs, fond grin clearly battling with his self restrained to make itself known, while he shrugs off his overcoat, then his suit jacket, and drapes them over one of the living room chairs.
“I thought I wouldn't be me if I didn't overstay my welcome,” Mike shoots back in reply but he doesn't know if he makes a good job of sounding playful when he's more than a little distracted by the sight of Harvey's broad shoulders facing him, white shirt stretched sinfully across his back and deliciously dark vest accentuating Harvey's trim waist. He almost dribbles cereal-y milk all over himself when the spoon misses his mouth on his next bite.
Harvey scoffs. “Stop being an idiot and fishing for compliments. You know your welcome here doesn't have an expiration date.” He finally turns to face Mike once more and rounds the counter until he's facing the fridge and pulling out a sealed water bottle from within. He twists the cap off in a way that really shouldn't be as attractive as it is – what the hell is wrong with Mike, thirsting after Harvey like it's their first year together all over again?! – and takes a few big gulps while Mike finishes off his meal and dumps the empty bowl in the sink. He plans on washing it later but he enjoys Harvey's grumbling about Mike being a slob and a college kid in a thirty year old man's body too much not to be an annoyance.
“I heard you visited the firm today,” Harvey brings up after he's finished drinking. The tone is light, casual, but Mike knows that in reality it's anything but. He appreciates the attempt at giving him space, though. Even if it's no longer needed.
“You mean that Donna told you that I met up with Rachel in the lobby to break up with her,” Mike translates.
“Mike, do you… Are you sure this is what you want?” Harvey sighs, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning towards Mike with wide, concerned eyes that Mike could and has lost himself in if he isn't careful.
“What do you mean? I thought you of all people would be against the idea of me forgiving Rachel for what she did.”
“And I am! God knows I am,” Harvey mumbles under his breath. “But maybe I shouldn't be.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means I… Fuck!” Harvey averts his eyes then completely removes himself from Mike's orbit by spinning around and running a hand through his hair, completely obliterating the carefully maintained hairstyle. “Donna told me I should talk to you. And I said I wouldn't get myself involved in this, because you are my closest friend but this isn't something I'm qualified to intervene in. But I can't stand by and watch you throw away something that's made you happier than anything else since we met.”
Mike sits there and watches Harvey's back with a gaping mouth. Of all the things he expected from Harvey today, this isn't one of them.
“Harvey,” he says almost gently, like he's the one who got cheated on, not Mike, “she kissed another man, a man she used to have an affair with and who asked her to marry him might I add, and didn't bother to tell me until a week later. And when she did, it was like it was something off a check list that she needed to cross out so we could move on with our lives!”
“But it was only a kiss,” Harvey argues weakly, still not looking at Mike. “It's not… it's not the same as what my mother…”
“Maybe not,” Mike acquiesces softly, feeling the urge to comfort Harvey in this moment. “But it feels the same. I can't get over it.”
“Maybe not now. Not today. Or tomorrow, or next week. But if you give yourself a little time, you'll remember all the reasons you were with Rachel in the first place and find yourself forgiving her.”
Mike shakes his head even when he knows Harvey can't see it. He doesn't know why the other man is doing this, trying to convince Mike to go back to Rachel, but Mike knows that he needs to explain to Harvey all the reasons why he can't.
“But I won't. And even if I do, it won't be as my girlfriend. I'll forgive the friend who's stood by my side all these years, who I've shared so much with and still care about, but it won't be the girlfriend she was until last night.”
“How can you be so sure?” Harvey asks and finally, finally turns around to face Mike, a puzzled expression on his face as he looks at him with eyes that convey a tortured pain Mike doesn't know what to attribute to. “You've forgiven lesser people for worse offenses.”
“I have,” Mike agrees, mind going back to Trevor and the multiple times he let go of things no sane person would've ever forgiven. Sometimes, he thinks he might've even forgiven him for the weed drop set-up, too, if it hadn't been for Harvey barging into his life and commandeering everything like he owned him. “And I'm not saying that I won't forgive her for this, too. In a way, I even get it. I'm not a monster. But… I know myself, Harvey. I may forgive, but I will never forget this. I'll never forget all the mental images swimming through my brain or how it felt, how it feels, to live with the betrayal and the lack of trust. How can I be with her, eventually marry her, if there's always going to be a nagging doubt on the edge of my mind every time she goes out or stays out late or tells me about a male coworker or the nice barista boy at the coffee shop across the street?
“I can't do that to myself. And I can't do it to her, either. It's not fair. That way lies only resentment. It's better for her to be hurt now and move on without me than for us to persist in a relationship that will only inevitably end in disaster.”
It's something that he's been chewing on since yesterday, but especially today. He didn't allow himself to give those thoughts a voice, not until this moment, but now that he's verbalised them, Mike can't find any shred of untruth in them.
It's why he ended up cutting Trevor out of his life for good, despite the few attempts to rekindle a friendship that he knew, deep down, was well and truly dead. Once Harvey held up a mirror in front of him and forced him to see all the ways in which his oldest friend had fucked him over time and time again, it was only Mike's stubborn denial, fraying at the edges already, that kept things going until Trevor betrayed him to Jessica.
Once Mike realises something and accepts it for what it is, the decision is final.
Harvey sighs loudly and rubs a hand over his face but finally seems to be getting over whatever drove him to put distance between them in the first place and once again takes up residence in front of Mike at the counter.
“But she made you so happy. I actually… I kind of admired what you and her have… had.”
Mike musters up a smile for Harvey, but he knows it's sad at the edges.
“She did. But, Harvey, she was never the thing that made me happier than anything else since we met. That's always been you, this, the job, the firm,” Mike says, sweeping a hand around to emphasise his point. “When I quit and joined Jonathan, I thought it was Rachel keeping me happy and helping me not feel the loss and longing of no longer being a lawyer. But it wasn't.”
Harvey, wide-eyed and seemingly speechless, wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and asks in a thready voice, “What was it, then?”
“Working with you,” Mike replies, smiling. Even if Harvey doesn't feel the same about Mike, could never feel anything like that for him, Mike isn't selfish enough to protect his secret infatuation if it means letting Harvey believe for one second longer that he isn't the most important person in Mike's life. “Seeing you every week for meetings or business lunches, calling your office to badger you with my ideas or to brag about another deal secured. That's what filled that void and made me feel like I'd lost less than I actually did.”
Harvey is now leaning towards Mike once more, almost as if tugged by an invisible rope, and he's gripping the edge of the counter so forcefully his knuckles have gone white. Mike can feel his heart thudding in his ears to the point where it's hard to hear anything else, but he can't take his eyes away from Harvey's, can't pull away to calm his racing heart for a second. Nothing short of a bomb could wrench him away right now.
“So I know I won't go back to Rachel,” Mike continues in an almost whisper, “because no matter how much I love her, she's never been the one who held the key to my happiness. I can survive without her as long as I have this, right here.”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Harvey's lips press themselves against his with a desperation and yearning Mike feels down to his toes. His lower lip stings under the assault and he wouldn't be surprised if the wound there reopened, but he couldn't give a shit in this moment as he brings his hands up to cradle Harvey's face, holding him close against him and ravaging his mouth with years’ worth of pent up attraction.
He lets out a moan when Harvey pulls out of the kiss only to take his bottom lip in his mouth and gently soothe the pain away and he curses the countertop that's still sitting between them like a barrier, vowing to find a sledgehammer and tear it down later, Harvey's complaints about vandalising his apartment be damned.
“I thought… I thought you were straight,” Mike eventually finds the brain cells to say, panting in between words as Harvey continues trailing kisses up and down his neck and face, constantly exploring Mike like he's mapping out the destination of his next journey.
“And I thought you were a genius, but clearly I overestimated you,” Harvey retorts in between hot, open mouthed kisses.
“I- fuck, do that again,” Mike exclaims when Harvey's mouth travels to the side of his neck and takes his earlobe in between his teeth. “I've never seen you with a man. Or express attraction to one.”
“Neither did you, but you still felt the need to drop that bombshell on me with a goddamn pun the other night.”
“Wasn't thinking straight,” Mike mumbles, mouth too occupied now with tracing Harvey's jawline with his lips to afford the act of speaking too much attention.
“Clearly,” Harvey says with a snort.
“Now who's making puns?”
They keep kissing like two teenagers in the throes of their first romance, but they eventually manage to pull away and hit pause when the counter starts digging too painfully into either of their chests and/or stomachs. Harvey rounds the counter until he's finally standing on Mike's side of the open floor and Mike doesn't hesitate to open his legs and pull the older man towards him until he's standing in between them. But before Mike can tug on Harvey's tie and start ravishing him again, Harvey places a gentle hand on his shoulder to maintain a bit of distance between them. When their eyes meet, Harvey's are serious, firm, yet still gentle somehow.
“Before we go any further, I need to ask… and I can't believe I, Harvey goddamn Specter, am saying this, but I need to know: what is this for you, Mike? Because if I'm just a rebound or the result of pent up hormones and confusing feelings, then I think it's best we end things here before we can come to regret them.”
A wave of love and fondness so strong it feels like it could drown him crashes into Mike and he can't stop himself from grinning up at Harvey with the force of a thousand suns.
“It's not. Trust me, Harvey, I would never do that to you.”
The firmness in his eyes thaws a bit at Mike's words but there's still a lingering shadow of doubt, of uncertainty, and Mike wants nothing more than to chase it away for eternity. And because he has the exact power to do that, he does.
“I love you, Harvey. I'd love you even without the attraction and the desire to take you to bed and watch you unravel, so I would never risk your heart and this friendship for the sake of rebound sex, no matter how amazing it might be. Believe me when I say that I'm not just using you as a distraction. You mean too much to me for that.”
The warm chocolate in Harvey's eyes turns into shimmering amber whiskey when they fill with tears and Mike coos at his best friend as he pulls him into his arms and holds him tightly. Harvey lets his hand drop from Mike's shoulder to instead tangle in Mike's hair and holds him back just as tightly.
Mike breathes Harvey in, burrowing his face into the expensive, comforting material of his waistcoat, and feels like things might actually be just fine in the end, in spite of his lack of a job and the spectacular way his relationship with Rachel has imploded. He may have lost his job, his girlfriend, and given up his apartment, but Mike is finally home, right here in Harvey's arms. It's hard to feel anything but safe and sound right now.
“I love you too,” Harvey murmurs, in a sort of quiet wonder, as he kisses Mike's temple with the softest of lips.
Mike tilts his head back to stare up at him with glittering eyes and a beaming smile and he knows that he made the right decision with Rachel and that he is right where he belongs. He's where he's always belonged.