Work Text:
The air in the Pearson Hardman offices was usually composed of 40% recycled oxygen, 10% expensive cologne, and 50% sheer, unadulterated panic. But in Harvey Specter’s office, the composition was different. It was 100% tension.
It was late. The cleaning crew had already vacuumed around their feet and moved on. Mike Ross sat on the couch, surrounded by boxes of the McKernon Motors merger, while Harvey stood by the window, looking out at the city.
"You're overthinking it," Harvey said.
"I'm not overthinking it. I'm thinking about it exactly the right amount," Mike shot back, turning a page of the deposition. "Unlike you, who is currently thinking about... let me guess. How good you look in that reflection?"
Harvey turned to face him. "It’s a valid legal strategy, Mike. Intimidation by aesthetic perfection."
Mike looked down at the box of files, his stomach doing that familiar quick turn. They had been dancing around this for months. Since the Coastal Motors dinner. Since Mike had almost gotten fired. Since Trevor. It was exhausting. It was illogical.
"Go home, Mike. You're useful to me sharp. You look like a golden retriever that got left in the rain."
"I’m staying. I put my hours next to yours," Mike muttered, a callback to a fight they’d had weeks ago.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." Mike stood up, grabbing his bag. "I’m going to the bullpen to draft the motion to dismiss on the Gallo case. I need a change of scenery. Your ego is taking up all the oxygen in here."
Harvey sat down at his desk and picked up a pen. "Don't trip on your way out."
In the bullpen, it was quiet. Mike opened a blank document. He meant to write about Gallo v. The State. He really did.
He rested his fingers on the keys, looking across the empty desks. Harold was asleep under a desk three rows over.
He began to type. He applied logic to the problem, using the only language they both answered to.
The arguments came easily. He cited precedents of glances, cross-referenced items of high-value sports memorabilia, and cataloged late-night whiskies.
He spent an hour on it. It was thorough, scathing, and sharp.
He hit a key, intending to save.
"Mike!" Louis Litt’s voice boomed across the bullpen.
Mike started, his hand knocking the mouse aside. "Louis! Jesus. It’s 2:00 AM."
"The primal hour of the hunter," Louis said, marching over, holding a Dictaphone. "I need you to proofread this brief for the sanitation department lawsuit. My own associates are incompetent, and you... well, you are merely annoying, but literate."
"I'm busy, Louis."
"Nonsense. Printer. Now." Louis pointed toward the printer room.
Mike rubbed his eyes and walked toward the printer to get Louis to leave him alone. He had clicked Print instead of Save.
The next morning, Donna Paulsen was waiting at Harvey's desk. She held a stack of warm paper.
"Morning," Harvey said, reaching for his messages.
"Good morning, Counselor," Donna said. "Interesting reading material on the printer this morning."
"I don't read things from the printer, Donna. I have people for that. Namely, Mike."
"Oh, I think Mike has read this. Written it, actually." She put the papers on the desk.
Harvey glanced down at the top page. ROSS v. SPECTER.
He read the title. "Is this a joke? Did he sue me? Because if he sued me, I’m going to counter-sue him for bad ties and emotional distress caused by his haircut."
"Just read it, Harvey. And remember: You’re the best closer in the city. Try not to choke."
Donna walked toward the door, turning back as she reached the threshold. "And for the record? The Plaintiff makes a compelling case."
Harvey sat down. He picked up the document and adjusted his cuffs.
CASE NO: 694-20-HSMR
SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK
COUNTY OF NEW YORK: COMMERCIAL & EMOTIONAL DIVISION
MICHAEL ROSS (Plaintiff)
v.
HARVEY SPECTER (Defendant)
PLAINTIFF’S MOTION FOR SUMMARY JUDGMENT ON THE MATTER OF "US"
PURSUANT TO CPLR RULE 3212
STATEMENT OF FACTS
1. The Defendant claims to operate solely on logic, self-interest, and expensive scotch.
2. The Plaintiff submits into evidence "The Tesla Incident," "The Clifford Danner Case," and the undeniable fact that the Defendant knowingly hired an unlicensed dropout with a briefcase full of weed over every qualified Harvard graduate in the tri-state area. A rational senior partner acts on profit margins; this hire was a glaring act of irrational personal favoritism.
3. The Defendant possesses hundreds of thousands of dollars in rare memorabilia, including original vinyl records, signed Sandy Koufax baseballs, and an autographed Michael Jordan basketball. Unauthorized contact with these items is typically punishable by immediate termination or capital punishment.
4. The Plaintiff routinely handles, spins, and tosses said items across the Defendant’s office without incurring bodily harm or legal action.
5. Therefore, the Defendant’s repeated claim of "not caring" is demonstrably false and constitutes perjury before this firm.
Harvey gave a quiet snort. "Cute," he said to himself. He kept reading.
ARGUMENT I: THE DEFENDANT IS EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED
The Defendant asserts he is "cold" and "unfeeling." Exhibits A through E suggest otherwise.
* Exhibit A (Promissory Estoppel): The Defendant bought the Plaintiff multiple Tom Ford suits. You don’t make a long-term capital investment in a junior associate's wardrobe unless you intend to look at him indefinitely.
* Exhibit B (The Tanner Precedent): The Defendant punched Travis Tanner. Rational counsel files a motion; protective jealousy delivers a right hook. (See: People v. Specter’s Complete Lack of Impulse Control).
* Exhibit C (The Record Privilege): The Defendant permits the Plaintiff not merely near his original vinyl collection, but actively delegates needle placement to the Plaintiff. Under the unwritten laws of the Specter Ego, letting someone touch the turntable is tantamount to a common-law marriage.
* Exhibit D (Endangerment of Holy Relics): The Defendant stood by and watched as the Plaintiff casually tossed an authentic Sandy Koufax signed baseball from hand to hand while arguing a brief. Failure to call building security or throw the Plaintiff out the 50th-floor window proves beyond a reasonable doubt that the Defendant values the Plaintiff above Cooperstown.
* Exhibit E (The Basketball Parity Doctrine): The Plaintiff frequently dribbles the Michael Jordan basketball across the office floor. Per deposition of Witness D. Paulsen, Louis Litt was banned from the executive floor for seventy-two hours simply for looking directly at the ball. Disparate treatment under Firm Bylaws is established.
* Conclusion: The Defendant is entirely soft. (See also: Donna v. The Can Opener).
Harvey stopped on Exhibit D. His eyes narrowed. "You almost dropped the Koufax ball, you idiot," he muttered to the empty room. "I should have fired you on the spot."
He read the conclusion at the bottom of the page, feeling a familiar vein in his forehead give a quiet pulse.
"I am not a softie," Harvey said out loud, scowling at the quiet walls. Yet his thumb lightly traced the edge of the paper as he turned the page.
ARGUMENT II: FISCAL & LOGISTICAL EFFICIENCY OF UNION
It is the Plaintiff's position that maintaining an artificial platonic distance creates severe friction costs.
* Billable Hours: The firm loses an estimated 14 hours per week to banter that is thinly veiled flirtation. This is billable client time, Harvey.
* Resource Allocation: We already share a brain. Sharing a life is the next logical consolidation of assets.
* Risk Assessment: I would literally go to jail for you. You would literally commit perjury for me. We are already accomplices. Being partners adds no additional liability.
Harvey’s eyes caught on the final bullet point. His thumb dragged to an abrupt halt against the paper. He read the line a second time, his jaw setting hard as an unpleasant knot tightened in his chest. I would literally go to jail for you. It soured the wit of the entire page. He gave the edge of the sheet an irritated flick before forcing his attention downward.
ARGUMENT III: THE 146 OPTIONS (DOCTRINE OF LACHES)
The Defendant is fond of stating: "When someone points a gun at your head, you don’t just back down—you have a hundred and forty-six other options."
The Plaintiff submits that the Defendant is currently exhausting options 1 through 145 purely to avoid addressing the obvious.
* Endless posturing, tactical deflections, and stonewalling constitute unreasonable delay.
* Here is Option 146, Harvey. Stop taking aim. Take the gun.
Harvey read the lines, his breath catching briefly in his throat. "One hundred and forty-six, you smart-ass," he said. He tapped the bottom of the page with his finger.
PRAYER FOR RELIEF
The Plaintiff respectfully requests the Court enter judgment granting:
* An immediate cease and desist on the "tough guy" routine after 8:00 PM.
* An injunction barring three-piece vested suits designed solely to distract the Plaintiff during prep meetings.
* One (1) admission of feelings, verbal or non-verbal.
* Dinner. Not a client dinner. Not takeout over a brief. Dinner.
Signed,
Mike Ross
Associate / Fraud / The Guy Who Knows You Better Than You Know Yourself
Harvey laid the pages flat on the blotter, stood up, and picked them back up by the corner. He walked out of his office, past Donna's desk, and headed toward the bullpen.
Mike was working on the paper tray of the copier when Harvey walked up beside him with the document in hand.
Mike dropped his hands to his sides. "Oh, god."
"In my office," Harvey said, his voice flat. "Now."
"Harvey, I can explain. That was... a joke. A writing exercise. Harold was supposed to delete it!" Mike said, keeping pace behind him down the hallway.
"Harold couldn't delete his own browser history if his life depended on it. Walk."
They stepped into Harvey’s office. Harvey shut the door, walked to his desk, and set the document down.
"You filed a brief," Harvey said, loosening his collar button.
"I didn't file it! I printed it by accident! Louis startled me!" Mike paced past the sofa, gesturing toward the desk. "It’s satire, Harvey! It’s a parody of standard New York civil procedure!"
"It’s sloppy," Harvey said.
Mike lowered his hands. "Excuse me?"
"Page 2, Exhibit B. You cited People v. Specter regarding the Tanner punch. That wasn't a criminal matter, it was resolved via confidential settlement. If you're going to build a legal case that I’m in love with you, get your citations straight."
Mike leaned back slightly. "Wait. What?"
Harvey lifted the paper again, his gaze dropping to the second page. His posture went rigid.
"And this," Harvey said, his voice dropping into a low register. "Argument II, Subsection C. Risk Assessment."
Mike swallowed, shifting his weight. "It’s a valid point about mutual liability..."
" 'I would literally go to jail for you'?" Harvey read aloud, looking directly at Mike. "Strike it."
"What? Why?" Mike asked, stepping toward the desk. "It proves loyalty. It shows that I’m fully committed to the—"
"I said strike it from the record!" Harvey snapped. He rounded the desk, closing the distance between them.
Mike took half a step back. "Harvey, come on. It was a line. A hypothetical."
"With you, nothing stays hypothetical for long," Harvey said, standing inches away, his breathing audible. "You think that’s romantic? You think that’s an argument? That you’d throw your life away for me?"
"I think I’d protect you," Mike said in a lower tone. "Just like you protect me."
"It’s not the same," Harvey said through clenched teeth. He turned toward the window, his shoulders tight as he drew in a long breath.
"You don't go to prison for me, Mike. That is off the table. I don't let that happen. Not ever. So you don't put it in a memo, you don't say it in this room, and you don't think it."
The office was quiet except for the low hum of the air vents.
Mike watched Harvey's hands clench at his sides. He moved closer to Harvey's shoulder. "Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. Motion to strike granted."
Harvey turned back toward him. The sharp edge had left his face, settling back into his usual composure.
"You want to talk about logic, Mike?" Harvey asked evenly. "Let’s talk logic. I don't keep you around because you're a fraud. I don't keep you around because you're an encyclopedia. I keep you around because..." He paused, adjusting his left cuff. "...because I put my interests next to yours. And if you go to prison, Mike, my investment goes with you. Understand?"
Mike nodded.
"Good," Harvey said. He walked back behind his desk, picked up the motion, and put it on a stack of files. "Now. As for the Prayer for Relief... dinner is granted. Out of the office. Eight tonight. Don't be late."
"And the admission of feelings?" Mike asked, a faint lift returning to his tone.
Harvey opened the top folder on his desk. "The evidentiary hearing is closed for the day, Ross. Get to work."
Two days later, Jessica Pearson entered Harvey’s office and dropped a file in front of him.
"Louis tells me there’s a rumor circulating that Mike sued you."
Harvey kept his pen moving across the legal pad. "Louis hears a lot of things. Most of them are voices telling him he's an ancient Roman warrior."
"He claims he saw a document. Ross v. Specter." Jessica leaned on the doorframe. "Should I be concerned about a hostile work environment?"
"Mike and I settled out of court," Harvey said.
"Did you?" Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Were the terms favorable?"
Harvey laid his pen down on the pad. He pictured the corner table at the restaurant from the previous evening, where they had spoken without files on the table.
"The terms," Harvey said, a slight tilt appearing at the corner of his mouth, "were mutually beneficial. Purely logical, Jessica."
Jessica watched him for a second, nodding once. "Fine," she said, pushing off the wood frame. "Just leave the 'logic' outside the conference room. I don't need HR asking questions."
That evening, Harvey's apartment was quiet. Mike sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table. Harvey walked over with two glasses of scotch. He set one down on the table, pulled the creased motion from his suit pocket, and laid it beside the glass.
"We have an outstanding liability," Harvey said.
Mike looked down at the paper. "I thought we reached a settlement."
"We did. But this?" Harvey tapped the front page with two fingers. "This is an evidentiary hazard. If Hardman ever found this, he wouldn't just fire us. He’d blow it up on poster board and hang it in the elevator."
"So what? You want to burn it?"
"No fire. I'm not dealing with smoke damage on custom Italian wool," Harvey said. He turned and walked over to the shredder by the desk. "Get up."
Mike stood up from the couch and crossed the room. Harvey held out the papers. "Do you want the honors?"
Mike took them, pressing the edges flat with his thumbs. "You know, I did some of my best legal drafting on this."
"The jail clause was stricken," Harvey said, his voice quiet. "The rest... showed merit."
"Merit?" Mike looked up at him.
"It was compelling," Harvey admitted, looking directly at him. "But we don't need a written contract, Mike. Contracts are for parties who don't trust each other. Or people who expect a breach."
"And you don't expect a breach?"
"I don't expect us to fail," Harvey said.
He placed his right hand over Mike’s fingers on the edge of the document. "Together."
Mike fed the paper into the slot. The machine caught the pages and pulled them down.
They stood side by side, watching the Statement of Facts pass into the blades, followed by Argument I, Argument II, and the section on the hundred and forty-six options. The Prayer for Relief slipped through last, dropping in strips into the bin before the motor cut out.
Mike kept his hand resting on the plastic housing. "Gone," he said quietly. "No paper trail."
"No paper trail," Harvey agreed. He took the empty glass from Mike’s left hand and placed it on the shredder table.
Harvey leaned back against the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles. "Which means if you ever want to present those arguments again, you’re going to have to do it orally."
Mike stepped into the space between them. "Oh, I have plenty of material."
He reached out, his fingers straightening the lapel of Harvey’s jacket. "I’ve got several oral motions ready regarding the sleeping arrangements."
Harvey watched Mike's hand on his chest, then met his eyes. "Is that right? Well. Court is in session."
"Is it?" Mike asked, sliding his hand from the lapel to Harvey’s collar, feeling the pulse along his neck.
"In Judge’s chambers," Harvey murmured.
He placed both hands firmly on Mike’s waist and pulled him forward, closing the distance between them until their chests touched.
"I thought I was the plaintiff?" Mike whispered, tipping his chin up.
"Mike," Harvey said, his mouth brushing Mike’s lips. "Shut up."
Harvey pulled Mike's shirt taut at the waist and kissed him.
It was firm, deliberate, and direct. Harvey shifted his hands to Mike’s back, pressing him closer, while Mike rested his hand against the nape of Harvey’s neck.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and close, Harvey didn't immediately move away. He rested his forehead against Mike’s, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged but steady. His hands remained anchored on Mike's back, holding him right there in the quiet of the room, where the only remaining sound was the undeniable logic of two people who had finally stopped fighting the evidence.