Chapter Text
“Nope. You sit and stay.”
Mike halted as Harvey snapped at him with a look like he actually was a dog. Mike wasn’t unused to being barked orders all day, but something about the look in Harvey’s eyes made him have to force his body not to squirm under his gaze.
You don't send a puppy to clean up its own mess.
His eyes tracked Harvey as he strode out of the office, taking in the confident posture that defined him, shoulders squared, and head held high.
Mike, for once, couldn't remember when his admiration of Harvey as a lawyer started to bleed into a different territory, but it’s been plaguing his thoughts all day, every day since.
He hid the way his heart flipped when Harvey would tell him orders with that tone that was as smooth as scotch that Mike so desperately wanted to hear whisper filthy things in his ear. He digresses.
As a consequence, Mike found himself avoiding Harvey when possible–which wasn’t often. He didn’t linger in the office when he dropped off finished paperwork, or grab coffee with him at the shitty cart downstairs. He hoped Harvey wouldn’t magically notice, but Harvey noticed everything.
But of course, instead of being an emotionally mature adult, Harvey simply tried burdening him with so much work that he had to come to Harvey for help. Harvey hid the satisfied smile when he could tell Mike had gotten around two winks of sleep from his workload, but that didn’t deter the boy's efforts.
Mike was a goddamm cat on a hot tin roof when he had to be in Harvey’s office for longer than ten minutes, and it started to wear on Harvey’s nerves.
“Rookie, if you don’t stop pacing, I'm gonna knock you on your ass its distracting.”
Mike froze mid-frantic step and collected himself. He was waiting for Harvey to finish reading through a contract, and he was taking his sweet time.
Mike took to standing in front of Harvey’s desk awkwardly waiting, which only seemed to annoy him more.
“Mike, sit.”
Mike rolled his eyes as he dragged his feet towards the leather couch. Harvey's dark eyes followed him, admiring his lanky legs and dishelved hair. The sun was beginning to set, shining golden rays across Mike’s face, which Harvey stared at for a second too long before flicking his eyes back to the paper. Soon enough, they were both knee deep in reviewing a merger agreement, and it meant Mike and Harvey were about to spend the next couple of hours trying to find every hidden clause that could screw their client.
Mike relaxed slightly when the topic shifted solely to the case, allowing himself to zone out for a moment as he and Harvey began working. What started as a quick seven o’clock check quickly stretched into near midnight, and both of them needed coffee and a break to stretch their legs. Their brief step outside was mostly silent, but it didn't feel awkward. Mike glanced to the side, watching Harvey sip his coffee, to this day still amused by his lack of distaste for cheap coffee. Caffeine was caffeine, he guessed.
When they got back to the office, Mike dropped himself on the couch, no longer overly self-conscious of everything he did. It took only a couple of hours for all his worries to fade and for him to slip into a flow with Harvey.
“We ain't done working, so I don't know why your laying down.” Mike rolled over on his stomach, dramatic and groaned.
“Come on, Harvey, just a break. I haven't had a full night’s sleep in a week, my brain is fried.”
Harvey shot him an unconvinced look but didn't push back. He grabbed a file and walked towards the couch and table, tossing the file on the glass. He stood there hovering over Mike before making a look for him to scooch over. Mike shifted up, watching Harvey grab his decanter of Scotch, then sat down next to him.
Harvey poured them both a glass, but Mike made no move to take his. Harvey leaned back on the couch, sipping his glass. Mike’s previous tenseness began to creep back from being so close to him. Mike tried to adjust subtly but failed, and Harvey immediately noticed his sudden restlessness.
Harvey took another sip, watching Mike from the corner of his eye. The tension in the air thickened, a quiet electricity buzzing between them. He leaned forward slowly, setting his glass down, gaze locking onto Mike's. “Is everything okay?” Harvey asked, his voice low and steady.
Mike hesitated, his breath catching slightly. “Yeah, it’s… nothing.” Harvey shifted closer ever so slightly, feeling the warmth radiating off Mike. The sound of the ice clinking in Harvey’s glass echoed through the office. Time stretched on before they both deemed it was time to work again. Harvey didn’t leave the couch; instead making himself comfortable inches away from Mike.
A few minutes passed before Harvey spoke, breaking the heavy silence.
“Mike, will you go grab my phone off the desk?” Mike got to his feet without a second thought. When he came back, he held out the phone, but Harvey didn't make a move to take it, only looking up at him with an unreadable glint in his eyes.
“Do you always do as you're told, Mike?”
Mike’s eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion, gaping at Harvey, unsure how to respond.
Mike nodded slightly, glancing to the side nervously. “Uh, am I not supposed to?”
“I think you know what I mean, Mike.”
Okay, there was no way Mike was reading that wrong. Right? Harvey was definitely making a pass at him.
Harvey watched the million emotions on Mike's face in amusement.
“Come here.” Harvey’s voice was suddenly different. Lower, lacking the previous nonchalant, teasing tone.
Mike inched closer, only a couple of inches from standing between Harvey’s spread legs.
Harvey sat up, looking up at Mike standing there, dumbfounded. Harvey stood up slowly, his face only a few inches from Mike's.
“Stay,” Harvey whispered, slipping past Mike and walking to his desk. Mike's eyes followed him, but his feet didn’t move to turn his body. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about the hundreds of reasons why Harvey shouldn't be inappropriately interrogating him in the office at midnight.
Harvey grabbed a binder on his desk and turned on his heels towards Mike with a dirty half smile. He walked towards Mike and gave him a look to turn around. Harvey handed Mike the binder with a loose hand.
“Page eighty-seven,” he said. “Read the indemnification clause.”
Mike frowned. “You seriously memorized where it was?”
“No,” Harvey said smoothly. “I memorized the problem.”
Mike didn’t need to open the book; he already had it memorized, but he did anyway, playing into whatever game Harvey was playing at.
“Seems routine,” Mike murmured.
Harvey looked almost offended.
“Routine?” he repeated.
Mike glanced up from the binder, immediately catching the shift in Harvey’s tone.
“The indemnification language,” Mike clarified. “It’s broad, but it’s standard for—”
“Nobody puts language into a merger agreement for fun.”
Silence settled heavily across the office.
Mike swallowed and looked back down at the page.
Harvey moved around the table slowly, loosening his tie with one hand. It was past midnight now, the city outside the glass walls was reduced to scattered lights and reflections. Mike had lost track of how many hours they’d been there, but his previous tiredness was completely gone.
“You know why they bury clauses like this?” Harvey asked.
Mike hesitated. “To protect themselves?”
Harvey stopped beside him.
“To hide leverage.”
Mike could feel Harvey standing there without looking up. Close enough that it made concentration difficult.
“You read too fast,” Harvey said, his voice thick and smooth like molasses. It made Mike’s knees want to buckle.
Mike straightened slightly. “I understood the clause.”
“No,” Harvey replied evenly. “You understood what they wanted you to understand.”
Mike’s jaw tightened, eyes flicking to the side for a moment.
Harvey reached down suddenly, tapping the page once with two fingers.
“Read subsection C.”
Mike obeyed immediately, scanning lower down the page. His stomach sank almost instantly.
“Oh.”
A quiet huff of amusement left Harvey.
“There it is.”
Mike reread it more carefully this time, heat creeping up his neck as the implication clicked into place.
The exception clause essentially handed the opposing CEO an escape route if the merger turned hostile. It changed the entire balance of the agreement.
And Mike had missed it.
“I saw it,” Mike said weakly.
Harvey’s brows lifted. He leaned forward, his mouth a breath away from Mike's ear. “Did you?”
Mike stayed silent, his body shuddering.
Harvey pulled away, lowering his voice.
“You know what fascinates me about you?”
Mike looked up despite himself.
“You hate being wrong,” Harvey said softly. “But you’ll still sit here and let me pick you apart for hours just because I told you to.”
Something in Mike’s expression flickered.
Harvey noticed.
Of course he did. Harvey noticed everything. He noticed the blush that would creep down Mike's neck when he would use that goddam puppy analogy. He noticed every time Mike tried desperately to hide his approval-seeking. When Mike would argue, just to be told no and put in his place.
“Face me.”
Mike obeyed before he could think about it.
Harvey stepped into the space he vacated, taking the binder and flipping it shut.
“You’re getting sloppy.”
“I’m tired.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Mike looked away first.
Harvey gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
“That’s what I thought.”
The silence stretched.
Then Harvey held the binder out toward him again. “You have two options, puppy.”
“Page one,” he said calmly. “You’re going to read the entire agreement again.”
Mike blinked. “Harvey—”
“Slowly.”
Mike stared at him.
All eight hundred pages.
Harvey’s expression never changed.
“You miss another clause,” he said, voice low and measured, “and we’re going to have a much different conversation about consequences.”
But there was still the other option.
“Or.”
Mike looked up at him, anxious.
“You're going to get on your knees and make it up to me.