-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Family Tree

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Summary: Follow-up to Seriously. Harvey and Mike suffer the consequences of Louis' impromptu lie as they find themselves at a charity fundraiser masquerading as father and son. One-shot. Fluff.

A/N: Okay, for consistencies' sake, this takes place roughly six weeks after the events of Seriously. You don't necessarily need to read it first to understand this, but I would recommend it. Mostly because it's my fic and I want people to read it ;)

Admittedly, I had a little too much fun with this one even though I don't feel it's as well written as others. I also missed writing an element of H/C, but I didn't want the stories to become tedious, so… here you have it.

Disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for foul language.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

From the moment Donna texted him, notifying him of Louis' loitering outside his office as he awaited his return from court, Harvey had been bracing himself for bad news.

The senior partner excuses his reluctance with the utmost certainty that his wariness is entirely warranted.

Like in most aspects of his life, it is soon revealed that, sure enough, his suspicions are unequivocally spot on.

The second he steps foot onto their floor, Louis rounds the corner and ambushes the disgruntled lawyer.

"Louis, I don't have time for this. Unlike some people, I actually have work to do, and as you can see, I am a very busy man. So, if you could just move-" Harvey attempts to scoot around the other man, but his path is swiftly blocked. He falls back with a sigh. "Seriously, Louis-"

"It'll only take a second."

"A second longer than I can afford," Harvey gripes, impatiently sidestepping him. "Now if you will excuse me-"

"Harvey, wait!" Louis catches him by the arm.

He stiffens.

"You're touching me," Harvey pronounces, voice brittle, "Why are you touching me?"

"Harvey, please," the junior partner pleads, but loosens his grip all the same. "Just hear me out."

He pauses to consider. Despite his words, there is nothing that he absolutely has to do this instant. And it's only sporting, he reasons, to allocate a little time to his rival when he's literally begging. To refuse simply for the sake of refusing would be an inexcusably cheap shot. Yes, he wants Louis to recognize his brilliance and superior abilities, but Harvey is an arrogant man, not a cruel one.

Heaving an unenthusiastic sigh, he begrudgingly consents, "I'm listening."

Louis smirks in palpable smugness, before asking with forced nonchalance, "Okay, so, you remember Mr Sanders, don't you?"

The name's familiar, but he can't quite place it. At Harvey's blank stare, he rolls his eyes and condescendingly prompts, "Big guy, dark hair, billionaire?"

The one Mike helped secure?

"Vaguely," he remarks. Brows bunching at the beads of sweat he can see gathering between the cracks of Louis' indifferent façade, Harvey asks, "What is this about?"

"Well," Joggling restlessly, Louis arranges his facial muscles into a gleeful smile that has the creases around Harvey's eyes tightening. "You'll be pleased to hear that I am cordially inviting you to a charity fundraiser Mr Sander has generously organized for this weekend."

"I'm confused." Harvey frowns pensively, angling his head in the perfect show of incomprehension. "What part of that is supposed to please me?"

"He has connections, Harvey," Louis huffs as if frustrated by his stupidity. "A great deal of important people will be there. It could do you a lot of good to show your face. Make use of your delightfully potent.." His lower lip thins, voice gruellingly positive, before he gives up and finishes touchily, "..completely overrated charm. I'm sorry, Harvey, but I simply cannot sell something that I don't believe in."

Even so, that's still the closest he's ever gotten to a compliment from Louis.

"Okay, I'll play." Smirking at his advantage, Harvey leans back against the wall with casual grace, and self-assuredly folds his arms. He nods his chin. "What's wrong with him?"

Louis jerks at the change of subject. "Wrong with who?"

"Sanders."

"Wrong?" Louis titters. "Nothing's wrong. Why would anything have to be wrong?" He puffs up, scratching the side of his head, before curling his lip in righteous indignation and he snapping, "See, this is your problem, Harvey. Here I am, reaching out in a noble attempt to repair our regrettably strained relationship, and you accuse me of having some kind of an agenda."

His half-lidded stare dulls.

"You always have an agenda, Louis. Let's not pretend we are in any way capable of resolving our differences. Hope like that could really put a damper on my evening," he says solemnly, before giving a dramatic shudder. "I can just feel it now. Like something's trying to strangle me from inside."

"You wound me, Harvey. You really do."

The other man sighs.

"Do us all a favour and cut the crap, okay?" he drawls. "What is so terrible about this client that you would hand him to me on a silver platter?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Louis protests, scoffing in patronizing incredulity. "Wait a minute. Nobody said anything about silver platters-"

"Yet you offer the perfect opportunity for me to swoop in and steal him away." He grins cheekily. "No, something's up. You are either incredibly sure of yourself and whatever you are hoping to achieve with this sucker and are itching to rub it in my face, in which case I think I'll pass, or he's screwed up and you can't handle it. From what Mike's told me, however, he's an alright guy, so that only leaves option three, which is that you've screwed up. And I'm not one to jump to conclusions, but I think I'd feel contented betting on that."

"Okay, alright, fine," Louis grumbles, holding his hands up in surrender. "You got me. I may have," He glances down and twiddles his thumbs, mouth twisting, "Maybe told him a tiny, little white lie, at some point, a few weeks ago."

"You did what? Louis, this better not be-"

"I told him you were Ross' father!" he blurts.

Harvey reels back, stunned.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he exclaims in disbelief. "For your sake, Louis, you had better fucking be messing with me."

Louis' Adam's apple bobs.

"Believe me, Harvey, no-one wishes this were untrue more than I."

Harvey feels like throttling him right there. "It is untrue."

"Not to Mr Sanders," comes the gentle reminder. The infuriated lawyer's jaw twitches.

"You know that day of that initial meeting?" Louis hurriedly goes on to explain. "When Mike suffered that awful migraine and you showed up and began coddling him?"

"Hang on there, hot-shot," Harvey interjects, glowering darkly in denial. Voice rising defensively, he insists, "I did not coddle him. I don't do coddling-"

"You certainly coddled him enough for Mr Sanders to assume you were Mike's dad."

"Why in the world would anyone assume something like that? You told him that I wasn't, right?" At Louis' suddenly innocent expression, he shoves a hand through his hair and growls, "You did at least try to set him straight, didn't you? Like any normal, sane human being."

Louis shrinks away from his quiet anger.

Eyes wide and verging on fearful, he defends, "I panicked, okay? Tensions were running high - we were all very concerned about the boy. I didn't mean to!"

"Oh, so you didn't mean to say that the senior partner's associate is his goddamn son?!"

"Well… no," he winces. Biting his lip, he looks away. "To be fair, though, the client doesn't know that the kid's your associate."

The vein in Harvey's forehead looks frighteningly close to erupting.

"I need you to go to this fundraiser, Harvey!" the other man suddenly implores. "The firm is counting on you. Mr Sanders has grown very fond of Ross and he explicitly asked for you to be there. He is extremely family-orientated for a business man."

Harvey inhales deeply, pasting on composure, and inquiring with deceptive calmness, "Mike knows about this?"

Louis hesitates. "I may have sort of, kinda, maybe lied to him too."

"Just who aren't you lying to?"

"Harvey, please." The desperation on Louis' face would have been amusing if he weren't so furious. "I will seriously owe you."

"No," he brusquely rebuffs. "I am not turning up at some charity crap with my fake son solely to save your sorry ass."

"I'll be there, and so will the other associates and their families. Most of the firm has been invited, actually."

Harvey blinks.

"Is that supposed to sway me?"

"Well, then, if not for me," Louis murmurs, overly blasé, but with a hint of a smirk accompanying his faraway stare, "You should do it for Mike. He went along with this, too, you know." At Harvey's enraged glare, he adds somewhat shamefully, "Even if it were inadvertently. Look, I'll level with you," he suddenly proposes, appearing genuinely troubled. "If this blows up in my face, it's going to reflect badly on him as well. And, by extension… you."

There's silence save for the usual bustling of distant everyday commotion.

Deflating slightly, Harvey rubs his temples and mutters sourly, "Anyone ever tell you that you fight dirty?"

"Eh, once or twice…" He smirks. "A month."

"Make no mistake, Louis," the senior partner assures with deadly confidence. "You will be indebted to me. Anything I want."

"Within reason," the other man argues.

He doesn't back down. "Anything."

"Okay, fine," Louis concedes. "But I'm putting a deadline on this. You have four weeks."

Harvey chuckles, grinning impishly despite himself. "Oh, Louis," he clucks, clapping the other man on the back, "It's sweet that you still underestimate me." Eyes slanted in amusement, he fondly shakes his head. "I had something in mind the second you demanded my attention. And it's good, too."

"Whatever, Harvey," Louis brushes off, rolling his eyes. Then, feeling the need to issue a warning, sneers, "But you better play ball. Keep in mind, I'm not the only one with something to lose here."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, Harvey is in the middle of ushering a stubbornly uncooperative pup out of his office when he is halted in his tracks by Donna's spirited voice.

"So…" Her features are much too animated for Harvey's liking. Seeing her delicately pursed lips, he charily holds his breath.

Mike frowns, wondering why his boss has suddenly froze up.

Eyes beaming and sparkling with scantily cloaked ecstasy, savouring the moment and filing it away for all of eternity, Donna sings, "I hear you have an illegitimate love-child."

His face falls into his waiting hands.

"I should have known you'd find out," Harvey groans, voice muffled, as her tinkling laugh fills the air.

The kid's gaze flits between the two in perplexity.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?"

Harvey can't. He just can't deal with it right then - not while knowing that he'll have to ward off both the pup's baffled questions (and please, no. Please, God, no - dismissive entertainment) and Donna's wicked and ultimately unstoppable teasing. He knows he's only delaying the inevitable, but then… avoidance sounds quite tempting at the moment.

"Go, Mike," the other man orders with fraying patience. "Just…go."

Donna is already guiding him rather forcefully down the hall. No doubt eager to rid them of the only obstacle standing between her and inhaling every single juicy detail in relation to this precious scandal. A scandal Harvey doubts he will ever fully live down if his secretary has anything to say about it.

"No, wait!" Mike objects in vain. When his only answer is another shove in the opposite direction, he pouts (in an utterly manly way, of course, as Harvey's sure he'd claim) and mumbles sullenly, "But I want to hear about Harvey's illegitimate love child!"

Blinking away tears in her admirable efforts to cling to her composure, Donna manages to soothe in a voice remarkably close to even, "I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's time for the grown-ups to talk in private."

Chest nodding with scarcely restrained giggles, she smirks evilly over at Harvey to add, "You can come back and wind up your Dad later."

Mike whirls around to face her, with a bewildered frown that screams, Are you freaking for real? And as she nods giddily and double ups laughing at his totally baffled expression, Harvey scrubs a hand across his forehead where a headache is already arising just below the surface.

He sighs.

It's going to be a long week.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Mike mutters for the hundredth time as he scoots down farther in the back seat and avoids Ray's amused eyes in the rear-view mirror. (And why does absolutely everyone find this so hilarious?)

"I know," Harvey concurs with a discontented downturn of the mouth. "I am way too young to be your father."

Mike shoots him a dubious side-glance. "How old do you think I am?" he asks somewhat warily.

His boss tilts his head thoughtfully.

"I know this," he murmurs, but he really doesn't, going by the uncertain quality to his customarily undisputable tone.

"You're twenty-" He cuts off, frowning. "Twenty…"

"Three, Harvey," Mike supplies, not without acidity. "I'm twenty-three."

"Yeah, of course, twenty-three," Harvey agrees absent-mindedly, thumb dancing over the screen of his cell, before looking up when Mike fails to jump in with some witty remark about his youthful complexion, taking in his closed-off expression and rigid posture with dawning realisation. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yes." He shrugs limply. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," the older man shakes his head, feeling strangely blindsided and confounded and maybe a little protective, all at once. "It's merely a little younger than I expected, is all."

"Well, you never asked," Mike stiffly points out, looking for all the world like he wants to bolt and never come back, and Harvey can't believe he never saw it before. Sure, he's always called him a kid and he certainly looks young - he simply never imagined…

Now, dressed in casual clothing, - a dark navy t-shirt beneath a loose-hanging, purple sweatshirt zipped midway, knotted ear-buds peeking out from his jean's pocket - he could even be mistaken for a teenager.

"You're right," Harvey says softly. "I'm sorry."

Tearing away from the passing scenery, Mike's gaze cuts to him in surprise. "For what?"

This time it's his turn to shrug.

"For not asking."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The fundraiser, as it turns out, is not so much a tasteful Black Tie event as a family picnic in Central Park.

Harvey is so going to kill Louis for this.

The eager squeals of children grates on his eardrums as they scamper around the grass, weaving in and between casual onlookers, and sickening him with they're sticky, smiling faces and grubby, mud-spattered clothes.

"Oh, cheer up, Harvey," Mike chirps, awarding his knitted brows with a playful nudge. "It's not so bad."

"Easy for you to say," he refutes, unable to prevent his aversion from trickling into his facial muscles or tone. "You would get along great with all of these darling little angels, with they're cutesy little grins and bubbly giggles."

"I…" Mike scratches his neck and purses his lips. "I can't help but notice how you make that sound kind of repulsive?" His voice climbs an octave towards the end questioningly.

"It disgusts me."

Mike's not sure what to say to that. "Right…" Rocking back on his heels, he nods to himself. "You do see how you might sound like that grumpy old man who chases kids off their lawn on Saturday mornings with a baseball bat, bearing his teeth and wearing only a bathrobe?"

Harvey sends him a faintly concerned look.

"See, kiddo, when you say things like that, it makes me wonder what kind of neighbourhood you grew up in."

"It was nice," Mike insists. "We had a tire swing."

"Oh, sure," Harvey says, voice thick with sarcasm. "Because tire swings are the epitome of harmlessness. Broken leg, anyone?"

"That was one time," the younger man defends through clenched teeth. "And I was four."

"You think you're making a valid case," his boss notes, looking vaguely apologetic in the sense that he's not truly sorry in the slightest. "But you're really not."

Rolling his eyes, the pup kicks a pebble and mutters indistinctly, "Buzzkill."

"I'm going to pretend not to have heard that," Harvey laughs.

"Okay, and while you're doing that, I can pretend to be sorry for saying it."

"I'll have you kno-" The screeching surrounding them suddenly enters a whole new level of soul-crushing and wincing, they glance over to see that the magic show is in full swing. Harvey blows out a dejected breath. "Did I mention how much I hate this?"

"Yes. Several times, in fact," Mike mumbles, before brightening. "Look, how about we go grab some lunch? I think they're having a barbeque over by the fountains."

"Maybe later. I've suddenly lost my appetite."

His face falls.

Then, quickly bouncing back, Mike's baby blue eyes light up in a way that immediately triggers Harvey's suspicion.

"You know… I could volunteer us for the father and son, three-legged race," he suggests with a sly smile. "Or if that's not to your liking, we could bond over our shared love of kite flying. Ooh, ooh-" He jiggles with excitement. "Or I could challenge you to a penalty shoot-out! See? There are tons of activities for us to participate in."

"Yes, there are," Harvey agrees dryly, "If we were six."

"So how about it, Harvey?" Mike carries on, overlooking his pessimism in favour of rambling pointlessly. Well, nothing different there. "What would you rather sign up for? Personally, I think you'd do great in the hula hoop athon. You know, play to your strengths. Or, alternatively, you could go join those kids playing hopscotch. Not only do they look like they're having a blast, but I think that would be right up your alley. Not too competitive, not too proactive. Perfect for someone like yourself."

"You do realise that you're talking, right?" Harvey comments, tilting his head to one side. "Like, your mouth doesn't just open up and start blathering on its own, does it?"

Mike looks upwards and grins wickedly. "Not to my knowledge…"

Despite himself, Harvey chuckles. "You are hopeless."

"What can I say? I take after you."

"Hey. Watch it, rookie." He points a threatening a finger, to which Mike feigns terror and releases a silent scream. He rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but decides in that moment that he's tremendously thankful his imaginary son is Mike, of all people, instead of one of the Harvard drones. Even if he is more qualified to be a puppy than a lawyer.

The kid certainly lessens the agony of being around these bands of likeminded parents and their children, at any rate.

In saying that, however, fifteen minutes later when they bump into Louis and he asks how they're faring, Harvey still has to reign in his feral instincts as he replies with a deadpan, "Bite me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ambling along under a sprinkling of trees some distance away from the other families, boredom is rapidly beginning to seep in when a calls out, "Hey, Mike!" and a huge hulk of a man comes jogging over.

"Raul!" Mike closes the gap and grins brilliantly. "Up top, my man." He raises a hand for the client to high-five and Harvey hitches a brow when said client cheerfully complies.

"Awesome," the kid whoops, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. "Much better than last time, dude. We still need to work a little on the force you're applying - you want to achieve more of a deafening slap. Like, really go for it, you know? Don't worry about hurting me or anything, I can take it. Other than that, I am thoroughly impressed by the strides you've taken in both aim and precision."

Accepting the advice easily, Mr Sanders nods, clearly humouring him as he relates, "Practise makes perfect, after all."

"See?" Mike crows, positively beaming. "You're getting it."

"I am indeed."

Spying Harvey standing off to the side, observing the exchange with unabashed amusement, Mr Sanders excuses himself and makes his way over, Mike trailing slowly behind.

"I am so glad you could make it, Mr Ross," Mr Sanders greets, holding out an affable hand, which Harvey shakes firmly.

"Specter, actually," Harvey rectifies smoothly. "Ross is my ex-wife's name."

"Oh, I do apologise."

"No harm done," he lowly chuckles, a mesmeric smile easing any lingering unfamiliarity between them. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Sanders. And please, call me Harvey."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr Spec- Harvey," Mr Sanders smiles in return. Mike, meanwhile, rolls his eyes. "You, too, may call me Raul."

"Raul, I am thrilled to be here," Harvey declares, and wow, that almost sounded genuine.

Mike shakes his head. He's good.

"It's not often I have a free day to spend with my son. I've really been looking forward to this."

"And that warms my heart to hear. I must say, I have taken quite a liking to Michael. He is…he's…" Mr Sander flounders, searching for the right word when none are forth-coming.

"Friendly? Overenthusiastic? Unintentionally comical?" Harvey rhymes off, deliberately ignoring Mike's consequent glower. "Has the tendency to act astonishingly puppy-like when he wants something?"

Sander's laughs in apparent agreement and grins widely. "Not forgetting highly intelligent. The inner workings of Michael's mind are truly extraordinary. You must be very proud."

"I am," Harvey readily admits, and his gaze meets Mike's in such open sincerity that Mike swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. Mr Sanders follows his line of sight and his smile softens.

"You two made quite an impression the day we meet," he comments idly, missing the way Harvey abruptly clams up. The reaction's not lost on Mike, however, who eagerly leans forward to pore over his less than imperturbable exterior.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint - his memories of that day are fairly hazy. All he knows is that Harvey was there, holding him and being abnormally nice, and somehow that made him feel better. One of the only clear moments that Mike can recall, sadly, is the mishap - and the struggle - with his clothes, and man, does he wish he could forget. He shivers at the memory of his boss dressing him in a way painfully reminiscent of how you would handle a clumsy toddler.

Shifting his features into dim curiosity, Harvey responds offhandedly, "We did? I hope I didn't make too much a fool out of myself." And right then there's a trace of what might just be the truth - a quiet weakness buried under all that coolness.

"Oh, not at all! Harvey, you were so warm and attentive, it was wonderful to see. A tad panicked, maybe-"

Mike frowns. That's news to him.

"-But it was so very refreshing to stumble upon lawyers who show actual emotion on their faces. It certainly endeared me to young Mike here, anyhow."

Uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny, Mike rubs the nape of his neck and shuffles his feet. God, I must have acted so strangely that day.

"When I began making plans for this family fundraiser, Harvey, you were one of the first people to come to mind, and I knew I would have to invite the two of you along. It's a fantastic opportunity to become acquainted with new people, don't you think? And Mike seldom speaks of his family."

Harvey tosses a glance the kid's way to see him staring at the ground.

"Aren't most kids like that nowadays?" he plays off, laughing softly, much to the younger man's relief. "Besides, when you work for the same company as your father, it doesn't exactly bode well for your credibility. Mike wants to be able to stand on his own two feet and succeed on his own terms without me looking over his shoulder at every turn. I think the distance can be constructive, for the most part."

"It is a shame considering how close you both are," Sanders says sadly, "Though I can empathise."

"In saying that, however," Harvey continues, mouth twitching, and Mike's eyes promptly narrow. "Mike is extremely well versed in getting into trouble, so I like to keep my eye on things as best I can, nevertheless."

Oh, okay. Sure. Just completely contradict everything you've just said.

The younger man snorts at the insinuation that he somehow needs Harvey to watch over him. Don't get him wrong, he's glad his boss has his back, and granted, he has come through for him on more than one occasion. But he doesn't need him.

"Oh, come on, Ha-Dad," he grouses, the foreign word tasting weird on his tongue. "I am not that bad!"

"Are kidding me? What do you mean you're not that bad? Kiddo, you are 'that bad' strapped into a shoddy suit of dynamite, hurtling off a cliff at a hundred miles per hour into shark-invested waters and you don't know how to swim."

"Nice," Mike retorts, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Nice imagery."

"I thought so. Fitting, too, I think."

"Of course, you'd say that," he says scathingly. Assuming a pretentious tone, Mike mocks derisively, "Mr. You Can't Have Nacho's Because They'll Ruin Your Suit."

"Which they did, need I remind you? Although, you chose a fairly poor example, bearing in mind it wasn't a particularly great loss, at any rate. To be honest, I just didn't want you to spoil your appetite and before you say it, you know how you get late at night after one too many redbulls. In that case, nachos did not alleviate the situation. Your idiocy, however amusing at first, soon grows tiresome after an hour of prattling about the frivolous plot twists of The Vampire Diaries."

"It's a great show!" Mike argues. "Pardon me if I felt betrayed that the writers could just end on such a game-changing cliff-hanger!"

"And as I've already told you," Harvey recalls impassively, "I couldn't care less about the love life of Elena Gilbert, regardless of how often you continue to rant about it."

"I can't help it if the damn love triangle is frustrating!"

"Point being," the elder lawyer revisits, "I was relieved to see the back of that suit. And the other one. The stitching in both was horrendous."

"God, not this again," Mike moans, this close to stamping his foot. "Live a little. And quit disrespecting my suits. I like them."

Harvey smirks. "Only if you ditch the skinny ties."

"No way, H-Dad! The only way that is ever going to happen, is if they instigate casual Fridays, then I can substitute them for skinny jeans."

Nose turning up in disgust, Harvey demands, "Tell me you don't seriously own a pair of skinny jeans."

"Not just any skinny jeans," Mike replies cheerfully, as he grins at his appalled expression. "Purple skinny jeans."

"Junior, if I honestly thought that were true, I would drive back to your apartment right now and donate them to a homeless shelter."

"How do you know it's not?"

"Mike," Harvey says in his I'm-about-to-impart-some-crucial-life-changing-advice voice, but Mike knows it's essentially just another excuse for a lecture. "Let me put this in perspective for you. Every single day without fail, you gradually loosen your tie when you think I'm not paying attention. Then, sometime after lunch, your top button miraculously comes undone. Taking this into consideration, are you genuinely going to try and convince me that you would ever wear anything that tight willingly? Down there, of all places?" He scoffs. "You are not that committed."

Mike sighs.

"Damn," he mutters. "Alright, so I don't have any. Jenny bought me a couple of pairs back when we were dating and I threw them away because they weren't really worth the effort and they made my legs look kind of chicken-y."

Harvey carefully arches a brow.

"Chicken-y?" he repeats slowly, stifling a smile.

"Yeah," Mike half-shrugs, drawing his shoulders inwards defensively. "All bony and wobbly and weird and can we not talk about this?"

Simultaneously, they both pause and look over at Mr Sanders, ashamed to find they'd gotten so caught up in their bickering that they'd forgotten his presence.

"No, please," the client laughs. "Don't stop on my account. That was…that just made my day."

"My Dad just thinks he's hilarious," Mike answers snidely, glaring daggers at Harvey from the corner of his eye. "Pay him no heed."

"My son just referred to his own legs as chicken-y. He's not really one to talk."

Mike swings back to him and scowls. "Can you please drop that and promise me you'll never bring it up again?"

Sensing his leverage, Harvey strokes his chin and murmurs contemplatively, "Why? What's it worth?"

The younger man whines, "Aw. You've gotta be kidding me," floppily rolling his head on his shoulder and groaning.

"You have three minutes to present your case."

"No, seriously-"

"Two."

"Ugh. This sucks." The other man discreetly gestures to his watch. "Look, I'll…I'll…" He screws up his face in thought. "I'll, uh, finish writing up those bylaws for the Wilkinson merger by Wednesday."

Harvey gives him an incredulous look that says, Is that the best you can do?

"Preferably something that's not in your job description."

"Er…" He wriggles in agitation, transferring his weight from one foot to the other frequently. "What if I, um, stop pestering you to watch Lego Star Wars?"

"Now we're talking." Harvey nods approvingly, waving an encouraging hand. "Go on."

"And… and…" Mike falters, looking positively stumped. "I could knock before I enter your office?" he eventually suggests in a small voice, only for Harvey to lift a doubtful brow.

"Come on, son," he lightly chides. "Be realistic. You're never going to keep that promise." He pauses. "On second thought, it's highly unlikely you'll keep the other one, either."

Exhaling forcefully, Mike sags in surrender.

A pause, then:

"Fine," he agrees with obvious difficulty. When the other man simply frowns, he huffs out a breath and elaborates, "I'll let you buy me an 'acceptable suit.'"

A small smile shaping at his conquest (though Mike secretly wonders who's really gotten the raw end of this deal when he's not the one forking out the money. Then again.. his pride has taken a bit of a knock), Harvey chuckles, "You have yourself a deal."

It takes all of three seconds before he's speaking again.

"But remember, Dad-"

"Yes, yes," Harvey rolls his eyes and tuts, but his trademark smirk is warm. "You won't be subjected to any three-piece suits, I swear."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Back at the firm on Monday the rumours of Mike and Harvey's ruse have already surfaced.

More than one associate jeers at him over their cubicles in the bullpen - juvenile stuff like, "Have fun with your Dad this weekend, Mikey?" and, "Awk, is poor widdle Hawvey Junior gonna cwy?" which was unimaginatively followed by a hysterical, "Don't worry, Daddy's gonna come kiss it aw bettew."

The stories are instantly backed by the few who had the pleasure of witnessing their deception, which is embarrassing for sure, but, like most of their taunts, Mike lets them roll off his back and stubbornly perseveres. It's not like anyone could prove what they said, anyway.

It's all simply hearsay until the day Harvey overhears.

In hindsight, being referred to as 'Dada' by your subordinates is probably not the greatest start to someone's morning, but at least it wasn't 'Sugar-Daddy.' Mike's grateful in life for the smaller things.

With a murderous glare that could burn through glass and steel and causes several people standing nearby to cower, Harvey sets his jaw and in a clipped tone, addresses the room.

"If I ever hear any of you morons disrespecting either myself or my associate in this manner again, I will fire whomever is responsible then and there, no questions asked. And mark my words, by the time I'm through with you, no law firm in the city would dare take you in." He pauses, soaking in their fear. "Do I make myself clear?"

It's entirely counterintuitive, but in that instant, Harvey has never looked more akin to a pissed-off papa-bear protecting his cub.

Mike can't quite keep his grin in check.

In the end, though, all that matters is that it works.

With that brief insight into what it's like on the wrong side of Harvey Specter's dark fury, the associates are quick to back-pedal with a thoroughly chastised hum of apologies sounding around the bullpen.

His boss then storms off, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Nobody can bring themselves to even look him in the eye. It's weird.

It isn't until about four hours later that Mike finally unearths the courage to creep into his boss' office, but before he can utter a single thing, Harvey downs the remains of his scotch and mutters, "Shut-up."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-0-o-0-o-0-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A/N: I truly am sorry, but I got this crazy image in my head of Mike watching The Vampire Diaries and just had to roll with it. Aside from the teenage angst, it could be something he'd potentially be interested in, possibly? Blood, gore, drama - what more could you want?

Anyway, thank-you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed.

If anyone's interested, I'm also currently planning a follow-up to Rubber Bands from Harvey's perspective. I'm not sure when I'll actually get around to writing the piece. All going well, it should be up within the next week or two.