A/N: Hello! I am Caramel1941 and this is my third story. I have two others (which I REALLY need to update. I will, soon, I promise!) and I decided to start my third, not because I wanted more works, but because I finally have thought out a long term story, which helps, A LOT. When I started watching Suits, I loved it. I mean, I don't understand it all the time, so don't expect a long and lengthy plot revolving around law, but I love the show for the characters and the character development I know will come over time with the show. Please, please, please REVIEW! You have no idea how much this pushes me to write more and update. I like being critiqued (constructively) and I like knowing what I need to work on. So, here goes. Enjoy!

"All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. So I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible." – William Faulkner

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Chapter I

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Thwack! Mike's head popped up and he was blindly looking around. Harvey stood before Mike's desk with a rolled up New York Times in his hand and a smirk coloring his face, mirth in his eyes to match. "Sleeping on the job? Seriously? You've been working here how long?"

"Not my fault I stayed up last night," Mike replied groggily. He yawned; it was obvious he was on the verge of sleep once more. "And, anyways, I had finished the Dayton case about 90 minutes ago." Harvey shook his head.

"Well, why didn't you come bring me the file?"

"Because I wanted to see how you would react," Mike blatantly said. "Why do you think? I fell asleep!"

Harvey leaned over the partition and began organizing the loose papers on Mike's desk before placing them in a folder and handing them to him. Mike took them and placed them in his bag. "Come on, we're going home. Nobody else is here, and the cleaning crew is about to come in. Let's get something to eat and go to bed. Sound like a plan?"

Mike sighed in relief. "Food. Good food. Pizza with cheese insidethe crust!"

"Whatever you want, sweetcheeks."

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The lights from the city illuminated the apartment of Harvey Specter and Mike Ross. They sat on the couch, side by side, and the now empty box of pizza on the coffee table. Suits had been traded for T-shirts and sweats, and the TV was glowing of the Yankees/Mets game. Harvey was watching intently, every single play catching his eye. Mike, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind. Nothing was more boring than baseball, except, maybe, curling. Every few minutes, he would nod off before his head snapped back into position. The silence (besides the TV) was torture. He didn't know if he could take it any longer. "Harv-"

"Kid, what did I say about speaking during the baseball games?"

"That it is obnoxious and that I should never do it, because I ask too many questions." Harvey squeezed his hand, which was clasped in his own, in response.

"But-" His sentence was cut off by the glare Harvey was burning in the side of his head. Mike soldiered on. "-do we really have to watch baseball? Swimming is on! The world championships, no less. Ryan Lochte is going to be swimming the 400 IM, Phelps is swimming two relays and the 100 fly! They are going to be great races! For the past week we have been watching baseball, basketball, more baseball, and more basketball. Can we at least, for one night, watch one of my sports?"

Harvey stayed silent, not moving his gaze from Mike. "Did you breathe at all in that rant?" He deadpanned. Mike glared in return. "Normally, I would. However, this is not normal. This is the Yankees vs. the Mets. We are not watching swimming."

Mike huffed. "You know, baseball is on every night. Swimming comes around only five times every four years: the world championships before the Olympics, the national championships (aka the time trails) before the Olympics, the Olympics, the world championships after the Olympics, and the national championships after the Olympics. Just once, I would like to watch swimming."

A minute passed. The Mets gained a run. The Yankees still had yet to make three outs. Harvey's husband was on the verge of banning sex for the night if he did not change the channel to swimming. Damn! He cursed internally. The channel flipped to swimming and he suddenly felt Mike kiss his cheek. "Thank you." He whispered.

"Yeah, yeah. I only did it to make you shut up." Mike only smiled knowingly before his gaze was turned to the screen.

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Harvey could finally understand why Mike always talked during his baseball games; he was bored. Like not just 'This is so boring' bored, but 'Oh my God, I would rather tear my eyes out before watching another minute of this' bored. So, naturally, he talked to alleviate his boredom. Harvey started to feel bad for forbidding Mike to speak during his games. He didn't know how Mike could handle it. Thankfully, Mike was polite and let Harvey speak and answered all of his questions. It was weird seeing Mike talk so passionately and, giddy, with appreciation and love for something not law. Or me, he thought proudly. As the meet drew to a close for the day, their conversation strayed to their plans tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and Saturday means day off. A whole day to spend with Mike without interruptions and a day to avoid any and all work. The morning could not come any sooner.

"-and Josh invited me to hang out for the day with him. I'm thinking of going because it would be like old times, but substitute Trevor with Rachel. We are just going to do a bunch of stuff. We were going to have a barbeque and watch a few movies outside against their house with a projector once the sun goes down. I figured you wouldn't want to come, so you can have the day to yourself." Harvey was alert in an instant.

"No. You're kidding." He blurted abruptly. Mike stopped suddenly and looked at Harvey.

"…Excuse me?" he questioned slowly.

"Seriously? I was planning on spending the whole day with you, no interruptions, for an amazing sexcapade. But, no, you go and make plans; plans that don't involve me."

"I'm sorry? You can come along with you want, but I haven't seen Josh in three months and we have some serious catching up to do. We always have Sunday for our…sexcapade." Harvey just sighed in aggravation before climbing into his side of the bed (the left), throwing the covers over him, and closing his eyes in a huff. Mike rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and muttered some choice words under his breath, something along the lines of petulant child, immature, and possessive.

"Harvey," he said calmly, "I love you and your plan for tomorrow sounds amazing. However, you should have told me this before I made plans." Harvey rolled back over and glared at Mike, exasperated.

"You don't make plans for sex! It just happens! You should have known; it's been a week since we last had sex and I am seriously feeling repressed!"

"Well, I apologize for not being telepathic so I could pick up on your every want and need. We are married, Harvey, and married people communicate, or, they are supposed to, anyways."

"It was obvious!"

"And obviously it was not obvious enough for me! Look, it has been a long day and I don't want to argue this. I am still going to Josh's tomorrow, and on Sunday you can have me all to yourself, I promise." Mike's tone indicated that he was not going to relent. Harvey sighed in defeat.

"Good. That's settled," Mike climbed into bed and turned off the light on the nightstand before leaning over and kissing Harvey softly. "Good night. I love you."

Harvey curled around Mike, chest flush against his back, arm draped over his waist, fingers dancing across his skin. He breathed softly on the skin just below his ear, "I love you, too." Before placing a kiss in that spot.

Breaths evened out, hearts slowed, the lights of the city creating patterns on the floor through the wall size windows. Dreams entwined. The night lived.