Chapter Text
I.
If it was Harvey’s fault, he’d feel a little less bad. Well, technically it was by default. Poaching requests finally hit the fan, and hundreds of trees suffering in the shredder came to a head when the ringleader had the audacity to show up himself. Brayden “Baid” Striken. A strange name to think about, with an even stranger distinction. This guy had been the forefront to a lot of offers that Mike has gotten. Not only of him, but increasingly other firms too, going as far as to bring not only Harvey, but Jessica and Louis. How he found out was purely laughable.
He was the only one still in the building, adjusting to last-minute changes that have been made via email rather than in person. All due to his client going on a “mental health” break as suggested by Mike when he got what seemed to be the whole story. Harvey reclined in his chair, his hands on his face as he sighed into the silence, taking in the view of the ceiling. He blinked for a few times, and he felt a presence in the room, with a heavy knock on the door as if not already in the room. Louis. His name felt strange in his mind, and even stranger when it was noticeably materialized in his office. He was wearing a suit with a cat-decorated tie that surprisingly didn’t clash. If his shoes clashed, he couldn’t tell since his analyzation of his outfit never went that far.
His mind wandered perfectly fine when he noticed a rather large pile of files in his left hand. If you asked him now, he’d say he wasn’t thinking about Mike when he saw the pile. It would be a fair assumption. You see, Mike, despite the messy hair, skinny ties, and shitty bike, has always somehow represented a lack of work in Harvey’s eyes. Even with their circumstances, Mike has been less of a rollercoaster, and more of a carousel. You shouldn’t have been thinking of him, in a logical sense. But the way his usual annoyed behavior transformed into something of a thrill, Mike would be the only thing on his mind. His eyes steadied on Louis and he waved him over to his desk as if to humor his loud, overbearing, “meant to be considerate” knocking from earlier. Louis put the files on his desk as if it offended him, and then looked at Harvey as if he offended him. Harvey squinted at him and reached to open up a file, when he noticed how intently Louis was watching him.
Rows and rows and rows on end of suggestions, ridiculous numbers, generous words and items. Along with a quiet power to the sheer amount of substance there seemed to be. A name he could never miss popped up, Mike Ross. As if second nature, it felt as if the name was highlighted in bright yellow on every page. By the third file, it felt as if it was less of a valiant effort, and more of something he needed to think about. “—tell me?” Harvey blinked up at Louis and finally registered how confused he was about this. “I didn’t know.” Louis blinked, and then blinked again. “Does he know?” Harvey doesn’t have to think very hard. “No.” Louis scoffed and looked away for a second, as if remembering something, he nodded at the files and turned away, presumably going home. He shut the door silently, and left Harvey to stare.
:-;-:
Baid was not only an impressive man, but also an adamant motherfucker, and it killed Harvey to admit that in his head. He’s the type of man to make progress with digging himself out of prison with a spoon. In terms of things other than work, he was a brilliant man, as if by default. He studied German and Latin, and is incredibly talented in learning other languages. He’s very diligent and adapts himself incredibly well into different environments. He was the top of his class for every year in not only high school but in college too, simply because he wanted to. Not to mention, being a lawyer was his back-up career, not even a priority until it was presented to him, and yet he excelled. Thinking about this guy’s sheer nature while he was just feet in front of him should’ve been alarming. This whiskey he was nursing wasn’t doing anything for him, neither was the warm light coming from the chandeliers.
This next point is something Harvey is extremely embarrassed to have ever thought about, but his mind wanders, what can he say? His partners have always been extremely agreeable, from what he’s been told. He’s had multiple relationships and has slept around, which Harvey already knows he can’t speak about, Relax. Plus, he’s had more lasting friends with benefits arrangements than Harvey can think about without shuddering at the commitment aspect.
And yet, none of his partners have had a single terrible thing to say about him. They all look at him wistfully. Like this woman in front of him. When Harvey finally does listen and give her the attention she does deserve, she picks up on what he’s thinking way quicker than he’d like to admit. He can tell based on the way she squints at him, and the way her smile lines are fainter than when she started. “Don’t start!” Her bright energy came back just as quickly as Harvey thought it left. He follows Harvey’s stare, looking his way again, and smiles with that wistful look all his exes had.
His stomach churned slightly thinking of that face being on Mike. “Don’t get me wrong, I do miss him,” She started, and even though Harvey felt unexplainably sick, he felt as curious as a cat, which should’ve been a sign. “But I don’t yearn for him.” He takes a step back, and thinks about that while she continues, saying what looks to be sweet words, which doesn’t lead him to anything but worries. She must’ve noticed him watching Bayden talk everyone up because she leans into him and whispers his name. “Harvey? Are you okay?” Her sincere voice feels like bullets, and yet, he nods, scarfs down his whiskey and excuses himself to god-knows-where.
:-;-:
Mike is so incredibly exhausted of these people. When it comes to drinks, fake laughter, and faux interest in the most luxurious out-of-touch things, it’s hard to know where he begins and this stuffy suit ends. The only sense of self he has is trapped in his mind, and even if he could get the key, there’s 50 other cases that need attention, as well as the most random facts of things he wish he could stop caring about. He’s tired of having to lightly translate himself and his interests for other people who just take it as something they need to use a segue for their interests. Not to mention, everyone is dressed to the nines, custom dresses, custom suits, bow ties that even look embedded with diamonds.
All Mike is wearing is an expensive tux, (that isn’t even his, it’s a spare from Harvey) that is choking him to death for even thinking about Harvey. Speaking of Harvey, he hasn’t talked to him since he saw him at the bar with that woman, Madeleine Alwayas. She had black hair that contrasted with her pale skin, a mole under her eye and her lip, and smile lines that signified pure joy and love in her life since the very start. Breathing with her was almost as easy as being next to Harvey.
Harvey, now when it came to his memory, he was a special case. For Mike, his memory has always been as easy as breathing like everyone else but, for some reason, he’s different. He takes special time to absorb how he does things, how moves, how he looks when he’s satisfied, and a ton of other things Mike finds hard to think about when his blood circulation is being cut off.
He sighed sharply, clearing his throat while he’s sitting at the bar, begging for no company to see him at this state, good or not. As if being mocked, he feels a presence go past him to next to him. He sighed sharply again and flicked his head at the disturbance and wow. Forget what he said earlier, company like this was well worth suffocating over. He took one look at this guy, and the suffocation seemed measured. He was wearing a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up, along with basic black slacks that seemed like they were a brand he couldn’t pronounce. He chuckled, and Mike could’ve sworn he heard the word luxury in there. “You turning purple from that suit or me?” My god.
“Both I suppose,” Mike gestured at the seat next to him, and the mystery man happily took the seat next to him. Mike laughed nervously at the jokes, and then a little more real at them a few seconds after because yeah, it was kind of both. He nodded at the expensive whiskey Mike was drinking. “Any good?” Mike nods his head and then takes a moment to actually think about it because this guy seems like he’d appreciate a truthful, non half-assed response. “It’s great, but not aged for 1,000 years great.” The guy chuckled again and stretched his arm out slightly to call the bartender, and uttered out an “Elephant SHMR” before the bartender nodded and came back with a single drink. Off looks, it looked like a scotch.
He gestured at the drink, “Try it.” With little to no defiance in him, he did so. The burn was just right, and the initial taste was even better. Mike hummed, satisfied. Before Mike even got to make his ruling, the man beamed like it was Christmas Day. “I knew it,” his grin was unshakable. “Scotch is your area.” Mike copied his grin, nodding before agreeing. “I suppose it is.” Rayben took it upon himself to help Mike’s suffocation problem by removing a few buttons, and losing the bow tie. Before he could express his concerns about professionalism, Brayden stopped him with a quieter control. “It’s my party.” Mike nodded at that statement. It was his party. But Mike still had a nagging feeling he couldn’t seem to shake, ‘So why are you here with me?’
Conversation with Brayden was easy. He’s light-hearted, fun as well as down to earth, but Mike can’t seem to shake the feeling that he sees him more like Harvey’s associate, Mike Ross, with the memory, rather than Mike Ross, Harvey’s associate. For one, he could not stop mentioning work. Not work as in his, like a workaholic mindset, but Mike’s. Where he fit in that line of work specifically, how many hour weeks he does typically, how far he’s willing to push said hour weeks.. etc. Mike rattled off an “Every woman is a mystery to be solved,” (a classic really, don’t judge him) after Brayden opened about an ex-situationship he had when he was younger.
For a moment, he just stared at Mike with wonder and awe, “You know, I’m really glad I found you tonight.” Mike squinted at that, but leaned in ever so slightly to hear what he meant. “They kept you locked up in that box so much, I wondered if they ever let you out to go play.” Mike thinks about that analogy, and then he really thought about it. What does that mean? Before he got to reply, or better yet question, he got a glimpse of a well-dressed man standing right behind them. That was a wow every possible time he remembered.
He was wearing a navy blue suit, with a classy blue tie, as well as a cologne everyone knew had an unusual bottle shape. If his attire wasn’t a testament to who he was, the quiet confidence he carried in big rooms like this along with the pre-conceived notion that the world followed his cadence was a huge hint. Harvey. His bones practically breathed out his name. He leaned back rather quickly, as if about to be burned by the sheer proximity. He didn’t know why. He didn’t do anything inherently wrong.
There’s nothing wrong with speaking to a gentlemen/potential client. And yet, Harvey still wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was just glaring at Rayben, as if he was The Joker to his Batman. He led him away in a single moment, and Brayden looked at him apologetically as if to say, ‘I wish we had more time.’ Time for what, Mike doesn’t want to unpack. Whst he instead wants to unpack is how Harvey has avoided looking at him like he’s a complete plague tied with a ribbon. If Harvey was playing this game, fine by him. He’ll just deal.
:-;-:
Harvey was losing his mind. As much as he could, anyway. His life was practically swimming in complete and utter denial while he watched the whole ordeal. Laughs, leaning in, and that stupid look Harvey could see on every single face of those poachers, want. Harvey shuddered slightly in his fingers and before he knew it, his drink was abandoned and he was right behind the both of them. Keeping his eyes on Brayden, before he did something he’d regret.
He doesn’t remember what he said to get him away, he thinks it was a mix of desperation and pity for himself. Stealing a glance at Mike’s back, he leaves, knowing he’s being followed. He wondered what he’d say if Mike knew he was somewhat staring. Even so, how he got here, playing bullshit with this guy, it seems like he is right in his element.
They both reclined in their chair, and a woman Harvey hasn’t seen before shuffled their cards and dealt them. Harvey squinted at Brayden before he flashed a sweet smile. Harvey frowned and Brayden remained unchanged like an untouched object. For a few rounds, Harvey played it safe for some reason.
This game of Bullshit was a little different though. They both had half a deck. The two of them took turns placing the next number card as followed: Ace, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Ace and so on. The Ace played as the 11th card could be counted as a 1 too for the next loop around. If you called BS on a double Ace assuming it was a 1, you would have to take half the discard pile. For the Jokers, Kings and Queens, you would have to call out which one they were out of the three. If they were lying, they’d also take half.
If you called Bullshit and they were bullshitting, they take the whole discard pile. However, if they were telling the truth, you have to take the discard pile. The winner is the first to empty their hand. According to Brayden, traditionally you have a one hour timer. The one hour timer is to make sure the game doesn’t end up going that long. Brayden suggested 10 minutes instead. Now what in god’s name was that insinuating?
Brayden cleared his throat after they got to number 6, and for a moment, Harvey’s lungs felt like they got knocked down a peg. “Your associate.” Brayden flicked up at him from his cards and blinked at him, studying his facial features as if knowing how he’d react to what type of door he opened up. He leaned in, watching intently. Then, after studying for what felt like an hour, he leaned back and hummed, putting down another card. Presumably liking what he saw and taking that as a rite of passage to continue. “The associate.” He corrected, leaning back in his chair as if giving Mike a title was anything to applaud him for.
He looked at him the way he absolutely despised seeing someone. “What?” Harvey snapped at him, squinting. Rayben smiled and nodded over to him. “How much?” What the hell?
“What?”
“For him?”
“For who?” Harvey knew who he was talking about, and he knew Brayden knew he did too. From the way he squinted and chuckled, Harvey wished he was wrong. Even though he knew, he still decided he wanted to clarify for him. “That gentleman I was speaking to earlier. Michael Ross, I believe.” Harvey almost opened his mouth to say he prefers Mike, but he wouldn’t work with him so he wouldn’t need that information.
“He’s an exceptionally hard worker.”
Harvey grinned and put down a card. “Lucky I found him when I did, huh?”
“Bullshit.” Harvey squinted and reeled, and Brayden flipped the card he put down. Right. He’s talking about the game. Harvey can’t help but grin at his face when he saw a correct 8. Brayden playfully rolls his eyes and takes the discard pile in his entirety, watching hiw dangerously close Harvey was from winning. “Indeed he is.” He offered a smug grin at Harvey’s face. Harvey heard her before he saw her. Powerful walk, with loud, equally powerful heels. She completely went past Harvey and stood at Brayden’s side. She had black hair, matching her dress. It had an asymmetrical ruched ribbon hanging tightly across her waist and hung at her left side. She had heels styled like louboutines with the red bottom aspect, but it had a gorgeous swirly design in black. She looked in between the both of them and smiled. It was a nice smile, to Brayden though, it was distracting. Distracting enough to play a card he wasn’t originally about to while politely charming her.
“Bullshit.” Harvey grinned, flipping over the card and reveling in the newfound high of his win. Meanwhile, Brayden just smiled as sweet as ever. “Mike’s happy here. It may not mean to you, but it means everything to him and I.”
“Well, Mr. Specter,” Brayden’s voice gets lower, leaning into him closer. His newfound professional title for Harvey. He frowns, but listens. “I’d hate to ruin a happiness that means everything to you.” Harvey blinked, and before he could reply, the woman kissed Brayden right in front of him, told him he’d be outside and walked off. As she walked off, Brayden caught Harvey’s face and nodded his head to her direction. “My fiancé.” He waved a silver ring that sat on his left hand’s ring finger for a little more emphasis. Oh. So essentially, Harvey was the biggest clown in the party. Great. Now Harvey feels kind of stupid for thinking he was trying to seduce Mike.
He thinks back to when he stole his attention from Mike earlier and frowns. How the hell was he expected to face him in this state? Goddamn it. A woman entertained him a little by the night and, to be fair, it takes a lot more to get him to bed. But for some reason, he needed release and Kelsey (that’s what she said her name was), did too.
So screw you, Mike. That definitely shouldn’t be a thought he should entertain.
It’s only when her bra is on the floor that he fully realizes what Brayden said. A happiness that means everything to him? Him specifically? He, yet again, didn’t involve Mike in something that is literally all about him. That’s another time for the record. Future Harvey’s problem, not his. He pushed that thought down deep in his chest, and pushed her deep in her bed.