Work Text:
It started with a single feather.
Single feathers getting left behind was normal. People's wings shedded unintentionally all the time; it was just one of the many downfalls of having wings. It tended to happen, a feather here, a feather there. It was never overwhelming, at worst, people coming in while molting knew how to limit it.
Harvey found the feather on the couch in his office after a long night of pouring over files after new information was revealed about a client. Ross just left, RedBull in one hand, the rewritten deposition in the other. He hadn't pulled the all nighter like his associate, but just the sight of Mike made Harvey feel exhausted.
It sat inconspicuously on the pristine couch. Half a day passed before he even noticed the auburn colored feather sitting on the white couch.
Donna was the one to point it out, from behind the glass wall while reminding Harvey of his lunch meeting with Fowler, and that he needed to get the merger details from Mike.
"Donna, didn't I tell Mike that I needed the Fowler files by eight?"
"That you did." She glanced at him over her shoulder, "Considering how late you worked him last night, it would be a miricle they go on your desk in time."
He rolled his eyes, already making the move to stand up. His wings glinted in the morning sun across Manhattan, well groomed and oiled, how a professionals should be.
Harvey took great pride in his wings; the black and white pattern of a bird of prey, they emulated the confidence needed in and out of the courtroom. Oiled and groomed once a week, even when he was molting they always looked pristine. The cost of the oil alone had to be justified as a business expense.
"Your puppy also left you something on your couch." She went back to her work right after, never giving Harvey a second glance.
He lifted an eyebrow, looking over to the couch a moment after. The brown shade of red stood out like a beacon in the black and white room.
He picked it up, studying it closely. It felt waxy and grainy all at once, the natural hue of it all wrong. It seemed to be splitting as well, and the root of feather looked bloody. Like it came out to soon.
Interesting.
He pocketed it, not giving it a second thought as he continued out of his office.
It was never calm in the office. The bullpen was the root of all chaos, associates always running around to to Louis' bidding. It was a miracle that none of them had dropped dead from a heart attack.
Chatter died down as Harvey entered the area; associates continued to tap away and review documents. Wings subtlety shifted, Harvey had the upper hand here, whether they knew it or not. Under the florescent lights everyone's wings looked sickly, yet there was a hint of healthy shine to them.
Mikes on the other hand…
Mikes looked like a complete disaster. Like a juvenile tried to groom its wings for the first time without oil. Next to his fellow associates, he looked like the even odder one out then he already was. Not that he was fitting in real well with wired headphones either.
"Ross, I thought I told you I needed the Fowler briefs by seven." He knocked on half wall of the cubicle, watching as Mike scrambled to yank out his earbud.
"Here, kind of got distracted when someone dumped a last minute case on me." He held it up with little finesse, the thick folder ready for the client. His wings puffed up confidently, his primaries flaring in the small space. A few of the lesser coverts knocked themselves loose from the motion, adding to the scruff of his wings. The oil unevenly distributed on the coverts just made the already unproportionate wings look even larger on his lanky frame.
Harvey snatched the folder from Mikes hand, not even looking at it. "I want these on my desk next time. And rookie? You reflect the firm. Don't make it look like you don't know how to properly clean your wings."
He could feel Mike deflate as he walked away, his wings scrunching closer to his body in a way that wouldn't show them. He looked back down at his paper; highlighter never left his hand.
"On my desk next time Rookie." He swatted the wall with it, walking away as he did.
Mike jumped just enough for the loose feathers in his secondary's to fall. They drifted to the ground like leaves on a windy fall day, each one worse than the last one.
They kicked all with the Fowler case, like they always did. Got the client what they wanted; done, dusted, and sealed.
Despite that Harvey couldn't help but keep focusing on Mike's wings. They weren't getting better, though he could see attempts to groom them. Sloppy ones, but attempts nonetheless.
The cycle continued. They got a case, Harvey had other cases and gave the research to Mike, his wings got sloppy, rinse and repeat. It pissed Harvey off to no end. How could someone let their wings, something that was often seen as an extension of how well you dress and present yourself to society, so a lawyer (fake or not) should take pride in them.
Mike sat on the tastefully positioned sofa once more, his wings spread out in a relaxed position like they weren't in the middle of an office, with a make or break case in front of them. The vanes were splitting and there were specks of dry skin resting on the roots of them.
"You have anything yet?"
Mike cracked open another RedBull, looking over the papers scattered in front of him. "Not yet, Louis had me—"
"Mike, you're supposed to work for me, not Louis. What did you find earlier today, or are you just wasting my time here?" His wings flared in an intimidating motion, Mike immediately snapping to the papers and sitting up straight.
"Working on it! I already told you that I was working on a Pro Bono."
He watched Mike roll his eyes, already up and going on the case. Harvey's lips curled into a slight smile; it was how he imagined Jessica looked at him when he first signed onto the firm. A puppy indeed.
New York City twinkled below them; the rest of Pearson Hardman was settling down for the night, ready for the weekend. It was quiet from so high up, the peak into the night life of Manhattan from the higher ups. Mike was humming to himself, a record playing softly behind it.
Harvey got up, throwing his suit jacket over his shoulder.
"You going somewhere? Hotdog stand might be closed this late."
"Heading home, thank you very much. You seem to have this handle on it so far, and we won't have court till Monday. Don't crash and burn before than. And eat something that doesn't come from the vending machine."
Mike relaxed again, "aw, kind of sounding like your staring to care about me." A ring of feathers surrounded him, littering the carpet and couch, a small bald spot visible from were Harvey was standing.
"Don't stretch it Ross. I need that brain of yours to function." He heard Mike scoff playfully, ignoring the protests from him as he walked to the elevator.
There wasn't anyway that Mike's wings should be that bad. Even when Harvey was climbing the ranks, he still meticulously groomed them.
It was his problem; the damn kid represented the firm and him more importantly, and they couldn't let that get to them. Whatever, this was a latter him problem. Trying to think about it gave him a headache this late.
He sighed as he got into the car, Ray already putting on a jazz CD. It was an average New York night, and Harvey couldn't wair for it to end.
They ended up chasing loose leads all of Saturday and Sunday. There was no rest for lawyers, especially ones that hunted down every possible lead.
Harvey could tell that Mike was running off of RedBull and shitty street food. He had been in the office when he walked in this morning, the files sorted and organized with notes on the table. More than a healthy amount of cans covered the table, along with a greasy take-out box.
"Did I say that you could eat in my office?"
"No—wait what time is it? Doesn't matter, there's a secret kid and his old job—" Mike jumped up, pacing around annoyingly. "—it was all hidden in plain sight!"
"The hearing is on Monday, and this was the best that you could've come up with?"
"I thought at first it was the wife that was the problem but than I looked in the separate accounts not the business all together—"
"Great. What does that mean for us?" He set down his briefcase on his desk, looking directly at Mike. His wings were once again ignored, molting unevenly and making a mess. Mike didn't even seem to know that it was happening, to wrapped up in his own head to notice.
"We need to get the kid to testify."
"And how do you suggest that?"
Mike paused, glancing back at the papers. "Shit."
"Exactly. Back to the bullpen. I have actual lawyer stuff to do, so get the hell out and figure out a way to make it testify."
Mike shuffled out of the room, the dejected posture of his wings overdramatic. He had the same air as a kicked puppy.
"'Actual lawyer stuff?' The kid looked like a kicked puppy and he left you more surprise. Looks like a tree decided to sneeze on the couch. Are you sure that he's not in molting season?"
"Yes, Donna. I do have a job to do. The kid can handle his wings himself, he's a big boy afterall."
Her wings flared with amusement, looking into Harveys office with a smile.
She wasn't wrong; it did look like mid fall disaster. He didn't know how to even clean up the piles of splinting, greasy and bloody roots all at once. And he had clients to look through; the list Mike left on his desk the one thing he needed.
He sat at his desk, ignoring the pile of feathers on his floor. They had court Monday and needed to get this done—he would deal with it after court.
The sun moved quickly in the day, Harvey moving from one case to the next—grabbing lunch and dinner with old friends and acquaintances. The night settled like a blanket, people coming out from all corners of the city to join in on the weekend fun.
No rest for the wicked.
The bullpen was devoid of any of the normal frantic energy that accompanied the normal work day. One computer was on in the whole room, the ghostly light illuminating Ross. He looked like a ghost.
"Heading out for the night?"
"Yeah, decided that I didn't want to sell my soul for his case. You should think about it soon to. Tomorrow will have time for the case."
"Wow, you're really sounding like your starting to care Harvey," Mike's voice was cocky and a smile ghosted on his face, "I'm so close to cracking this, if I could just—I don't know! Something isn't clicking."
"Yeah well I don't want you to lose all that info so pack it up. I'll have Ray drive you to your shoebox."
"I can bike just fine ya'know. Its just later than normal." Mike already started to pack his stuff up, his stupid messenger bag already slung across his body. It fit in well with his cheap suits and rough wings.
"Fine, bike home then. I'll see you Monday and don't forget about the files. And make your wings look presentable for heavens sake. You look like you're molting for the first time." He started to walk away from Mikes cubicle, listening to Mike scramble.
"It's not my fault that—" There was a pause in rummaging, then heavy footsteps behind him. "Hey didn't you say that you'd have Ray drive me?"
"You said that you could bike just fine, so I assume you can."
Mike huffed, muttering some less-than-stellar words under his breath. The elevator hummed between the two of them, the night feeling not quite real to Harvey.
He wanted to reach over and help Mike with his wings. It couldn't be comfortable nor healthy for him to have his wings like that. It made Harvey tick with annoyance and concern.
"I'll see you Monday, than. G'night." Mike waved slighly while getting his helmet on, his bright blue eyes shining in the polluted night. Harvey didn't look at him, his wings flaring.
It was going to be a long court day if he didn't clean his damn wings.
Mike had shown up late.
He had just what they needed to win the case of course; the smoking gun that they had been looking for all week. There wasn't any doubt that they would win before, but now it was practically guaranteed.
That didn't excuse the state that Mike was in. His suit wasn't clean; it was the same on that he wore on Friday, and his wings—
His wings—
Harevy was livid about Mikes wings. They were groomed, but in a careless, off handed way. In a way that he was just going through the motions instead of taking meticulous care that they deserved. Bald spots were hidden with the plumage around it, sloppily, but hidden. The waxy and splitting feathers distracting him. All of it should've been taken care of with a proper grooming.
He didn't have enough time to tell Ross off before the morning session started, thrust right into the gauntlet that was New York Court. The client eyed up Mike's wings, barely acknowledging him.
They got done in record time; the opposition folded humiliatingly quickly, in a way that could've happened out of court if not for the frivolous shit that the other lawyer was spewing.
"Harvey, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me." Emmerson Murphy shook Harveys hand for longer than he was comfortable with, another win for the firm. "Consider Pearson Hardman in my books from here on out."
"Glad to hear it Mr. Murphy." Harvey took his hand back, descritly shoving it into his pocket. "Now we hope that we won't be hearing from you soon, of course."
He nodded, "yes, it wouldn't be good to need your firm again so soon." Murphys eyes glanced over to were Mike was standing by the doors, checking his phone. "Though, next time, tell your associate to freshen up his wings a bit before he heads to court. He doesn't look to hot with his wings so disheveled."
Wrapping up pleasantries, Harvey kept turning the comments in his head. It was obvious that Mike didn't know how to take care of his wings right and now it was weighting on Harvey. That didn't make up for the deep bags under his eyes or the suit either.
Mike perked up when Harvey walked towards him, already ready to go.
"Go home. You look like you're going to collapse."
"What?"
"You heard me. Go home. You look like you got into a fight with a pigeon. And that you're going to collapse any second."
"It's…Monday though."
"Do you need me to repeat myself? I thought you'd remember what I said not even a minute ago. I don't want to see you back til Wednesday and you wings are back in shape."
He scoffed, wings puffing up behind him in a attempt to make himself look intimidating. "Harvey, I have other things to do at the office. You can't just tell me to go home and not come back for a few days."
"I can tell you what to do. You're my associate. You're also giving the firm a bad rep by showing up looking like that. Go home. Louis can pile the files on some other poor associate." Harvey's wings twitched, his annoyance bleeding through to his voice. "Go home Ross."
"Fine." Mike groaned, "Still don't see why you couldn't've given me the weekend off instead."
"Doesn't matter. I'm giving you time off now."
The sun glinted of the surrounding skyscrapers into their eyes as they exited the courthouse, other lawyers in suits milling around the building. It was a beautiful day to spend in an office.
"Ray'll drive you to your apartment. He'll drop off your bike later."
"How are you getting back to the office?"
"I have a friend to meet. Just get in the damn car Mike."
Mike made a mock solute as he opened the door, his wings pressed flat against his back. They looked just as bad if not worse in the natural light, the way that the feathers laying must've been painful. There was no way that he wasn't bothered by it.
He watched as Ray disappeared into the sea of the cars, the world not stopping around them.
The Harvey spent the day throwing himself at his work, trying to avoid thinking about Mikes wings.
Night fell quicker than Harvey anticipated, only being pulled out of his thoughts by a soft knock on his door.
"I'm heading out. Thought that you were going to head out early just from the way you were distracted today." Donna stood in the doorway, her wings colorful relaxed behind her. "I hadn't seen the puppy around all day, was that your doing or was he chasing something?"
"A client commented on the state of his wings so i sent him home to get them in shape." He didn't look up from the paper he was focused on, his mind refusing to move on from Mike.
"Hm. No emotions, huh?"
"Just worried about the image of the firm is all."
"Sure, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight Donna."
"Night Harvey."
The clacking of her heals echoed through the mostly empty office; only a few people remained after hours other than the janitors.
Mikes wings kept rotating in his head; it was obvious by now that he didn't take care of them even when instructed to, but how could someone so smart ignore such a critical part of their health?
Harvey sighed once more, standing. If Mike wasn't going to take care of his wings, someone might as help him.
He packed up his stuff faster than before, hailing a cab and making it back to his apartment in record time. A good grooming session took multiple hours to finish, with the state Mike's wings were in needed multiple days of care most likely. Not including the stress molted feathers.
He packed up his wing grooming kit; oil, a brush, and other various serums and he liked. Most of them costing a quarter of what Mike earned.
Harvey stood outside Mikes door, bag in hand, trying to remember why he cared this much. Mike was a full-grown adult, not a fledgling learning how to groom his wing.
Against his better judgment, Harvey knocked on the door, felling it shudder below his knuckles. He wouldn't be caught dead in Brooklyn if he had a choice. Desperate times call for desperate measures, afterall.
Clattering and heavy footsteps came from the otherside of the door, followed by light swearing. It sounded like a goat rodeo.
"Harvey? What are you doing here?" The door opened with a loud creak, revealing Mike in all his bedraggled glory. He was wearing an old shirt that seemed to be for some obscure band, his sweatpants barely making it to his ankles; Mikes hair sticking out in all directions—his wings covered in a soft wrap that was ment to help your wings only after they were groomed. "Didja need something from me this late?"
"I'm going to groom your wings for you." He barged his way into the apartment, not even listening to what Mike had to say about it. "You have proved yourself unable to, so someone has to do it for you."
Mike shut the door behind him as Harvey took in the whole room. It was a studio apartment—barely bigger than a shoebox. There were dishes everywhere and books covering every other available surface, giving the apartment a crowded feel. The furniture seemed old and used, worn in and comfortable, while the decorations on the wall made no sense to him.
The TV played Clue despite the awkward timing. A pot full of ramen was on the table, ready to get eaten.
"You're going to what?"
"Groom your wings, for the second time." He opened the bag setting the products out on the table one at a time. "Take that ridiculous wrap off and grab a chair. I have a feeling this might take a bit."
He obeyed Harvey without a second thought, a defeated posture upon him. "It wasn't always this bad I just got—busy."
"Can it." Mike spread his wings, the poor things looking like they had been chewed on. "What did you even do to these?"
"Got busy, Grammy's house needed more money to help her, yada yada yada." He made a dismissive gesture as he spread shivered at Harvey's first touch. His hands didn't have oil on them yet, it was just to get a feel for what he was working with. "They don't really feel that important; I mean, their brown and red? What can get more basic than that."
"Doesn't matter," Harvey said as he moved to put the oil on his hands, rubbing it so it just got warm enough it wouldn't shock Ross. "Still need to take care of them even if they are basic."
The room fell into silence, the franticness of the six guests the only thing keeping them company.
With every pass of his hands more feathers shook loose, dropping to the floor like leaves. Mike shivered when he touched particularly sensitive areas and tense muscles, the way he needed this showing.
The bald spots still concerned Harvey; the bloodied roots of some of the feathers did as well, but there wasn't much he could do there.
He switched from from product to product, going through Mike's wing throughly and meticulously, making sure not a spot was missed. Even were his wings met his back was messed up; his spine raising the shirt on his back.
"You know I do pay you enough to eat more than ramen and stuffed crust pizza right?"
Mike huffed, eyes trained at the TV. "I tend to get more focused on work than actually remembering to eat. Speaking of that, can you hand me my ramen? I was fancy this time; made it on the stove and not in the microwave."
"Very fancy. You add spices other than chicken?"
Mike snorted. A smile smile graced Harvey's face as he wrapped up the wings in the soft fabric, letting their healthier shine disappear under the cloth. It was a step in the right direction.
"Move, I need your other wing."
"Only if you give me my ramen."
Harvey wordlessly handed it over to Mike as he moved, laying the other wing in front of him.
He repeated all of the same motions he did on the other wing; it went smoothly. There wasn't much molting on this side compared to the other side, but the pile of feathers congregated at his feet nonetheless.
"Ya know, its been forever since anyone's done this for me. Even then it wasn't with," he gestured over to the table with the pot, "fancy stuff. It feels really nice either way."
"You needed it. Even the client commented on the state of your wings."
Mike went silent at that—eyes trained on the TV, eating the ramen with a purpose. He didn't twitch as Harvey wrapped up his second wing, the two looking like a pair of fluffy poles. A blush ran up Mike's neck; starkly red compared to the pale blonde hair or the black if the t-shirt.
"Thanks for this Harvey—I don't know how to pay you back." Mike sat on the couch next to him as he organized all the different products; the TV flickered as the different endings played out in front of them.
"Pay me back by remembering to clean your wings. I'm going to leave these with you, and you better use them. I'll see you Wednesday."
Harvey got up to leave, his now empty bag in hand. Mike looked up at him with unbelievabling, wide eyes, face in awe. The products did cost a pretty penny, but only when used were they useful. Maybe Mike could retain that in his head.
"Wait, what? You're leaving these with me?"
"Yes, now don't make me repeat it twice. Goodnight Mike."
"Do you want to stay over? It is pretty late and this isn't really the best place to—"
"I can handle myself. You look like you're going to fall over on the other hand. Rest, and I'll see you Wednesday. Goodnight."
He let himself out, the door screaming behind him. He could hear the locks clicking faintly from the otherside, followed by the TV losing sound.
He thought back to Mike's wings.
They were beautiful when properly done, no matter how basic he called them. With routine groomings they could come close to Harvey's wings; not quite there, but close.
Maybe he would have to help Mike more.