Chapter Three

Mike had lived in New York for most of his life, and while he was happy to say that most of the time the weather was pleasant, compared to cities like Venice and London.

But from time to time, it would rain. And on the days it did, nothing would stay dry.

It felt like the sky was opening and every drop of water on the planet was pouring over him, and his cheap umbrellas couldn't handle the pressure. His shirts would be soaked through and his hair would be plastered to his face—his shoes would squish and his ears would fill with water until everything sounded softer. Cars would hit puddles and splash the darker water that hadn't drained yet onto pedestrians and cyclists, which the numbers of significantly decreased during these rains.

Mike, however, made a point not to call a cab when Harvey called him at nine o'clock on one of these rainy nights. Instead, he wrapped his water-proof jacket around the papers Harvey wanted and slid them into his leather bag, marching out into the apocalyptic weather with a grin on his face.

Oh, yes. Step three was in progress.

He looked adorable when he was drenched, and the fact that he would bring Harvey what he wanted more loyally than the mailman would undoubtedly win him some points too. He needed Harvey to see him as someone who would make Harvey happier than a one-night stand, someone who was steadfast to him—and Harvey didn't need to know, after all, that Mike was equally as cunning and calculating him.

He was worried, however, that he might ruin the briefs, so he called a cab and paid the driver three blocks before Pearson Hardman, walking the rest of the way there.

"What the hell happened to you?" Harvey asked, warily watching his associate drip on the floor.

"Water," Mike replied. "You're more or less made of it, so I figured you would have heard of it, but I guess not, huh?"

Harvey frowned. "Why didn't you take a taxi?"

"None were available—but don't worry!" Mike continued, a grin covering his face as he reached into his bag, "I kept the briefs dry."

Harvey raised an eyebrow at the dry briefs, smiling slightly at the folder Mike handed him and shaking his head. "You really are hopeless, you know that?"

"You're welcome," Mike replied, heading towards the couch and preparing to flop down on it. Harvey looked up from the file just in time to grab Mike by the wrist and haul him up. "Jesus, kid, don't sit down, you'll soak it."

"Can I sit somewhere?" He asked, his tired blue eyes looking directly into Harvey's and pleading. The brown eyes that gazed back at him looked unusually saccharine, as though Mike had just told Harvey he was his hero, and Mike couldn't help but think, I've got you now.

Harvey released his wrist, and Mike's heart instantly ached in his chest at the loss of contact.

A towel hit Mike in the face, and he caught it before it dropped, rubbing his hair with it. "Thanks," he said, smiling weakly at his boss.

"Don't sit down, kid," Harvey replied, frowning and turning his laptop on. His jaw twitched and his brow lowered, and he looked up at Mike expectantly. Mike tried to decode his facial expression, and then grinned when he figured it out.

"Do you want me to ask?"

"Yes," Harvey said, some of the tension draining from his face.

"Seriously? You can't just…offer? You don't even have to ask me directly—you can look at the window, if you want," Mike tried. Harvey shook his head stubbornly.

"Just ask."

"Harvey, can I please borrow your spare suit?" Mike asked, exasperated.

"Sure," Harvey said, gesturing at the closet behind him, "help yourself."

"Thanks." Mike crossed the room, peeling his jacket from his torso and arms. He licked his lip slightly and watched Harvey swallow at the white shirt underneath that had suddenly become transparent—which left a whole lot of Mike that was now of for show.

He undid each button slowly, making sure not to look at Harvey and to seem completely focused. It had to seem natural, of course—the more blatant it was the less attractive it became, and he had to make Harvey think it was by accident.

Inch after inch of skin became visible, until his abs were clearly on display, and catching Harvey's rapt eyes focusing there made him glad he'd been going to the gym more often. He got the impression if he was ridiculously skinny or fat that this technique wouldn't have the same effect, and he would more likely be invoking a shudder from his boss. But Harvey's pupils were dilated until his eyes seemed darker than usually, and Mike felt powerful.

His body wasn't exactly in the 'I used to model for Abercrombie' category, but was more lean from all the cycling he did. He had to admit, not being able to afford a car had its benefits.

When he got to the last button, Mike glanced up at Harvey and turned before separating the wet fabric from his back, his muscles working and shoulder blades shifting. The shirt clung in places, and he had to get his other hand involved slightly when it came to his biceps.

He reached for his belt buckle, then looked at Harvey in surprise, as if suddenly realising he was there. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry—I'll go use the men's room," he said, grabbing his wet shirt and Harvey's dry suit. It was hard for him to hear exactly, but his cheeks heated up when he heard Harvey muttered something along the lines of, "Tease," when he thought Mike was out of earshot.

As soon as he was around the corner, Mike bowed to the imaginary crowd that was cheering inside his head, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week."

Harvey's suits may have been sewn together by slaves and cried on by orphans, but they were considerably softer than Mike's, and had the added benefit of Harvey's scent. It felt fantastic to complete encase himself in something that belonged to Harvey, and he knew as soon as he got home he'd spend hours grinning like a maniac. He and Harvey were close to being the same size—the only difference was Mike was more lithe than he, so the jacket and shirt hung off of Mike slightly.

Focus, his brain reminded him, and he splashed some water from the sink on his face a few times to get himself to concentrate.

He wasn't a big fan of this tactic—partially because it didn't make Harvey fall in love with him, but made him fall in lust. The two could exist together, but Harvey lusted after most pretty women he met, and maybe even a few of the men. Sex wasn't anything special to him; it was something he got regularly from anyone he wanted.

Mike didn't want to be anyone—he wanted to be the only one. So this tactic wouldn't be the best in terms of making Harvey see him romantically…unless he improvised.

OoOoO

Harvey frowned slightly when Mike re-entered his office, looking a shade paler than he had when he left. And fully clothed, which was also discouraging. Mike sat down wordlessly on his couch, stretching out and placing his hands behind his head, and it occurred to Harvey how at home Mike was right there. He fit on all of Harvey's things, as though someone in advertising had handpicked him as a model to pose on that couch. Or on the one he had at home. Or in his guest bedroom. Or, sitting at his breakfast table in the morning and laughing at his God-awful Top Gun references over a bowl of cereal.

"Will the loophole work?" Mike asked, startling Harvey out of his trance.

"Yes, and I appreciate your urgency in bringing me the briefs," He replied. But frankly, the strip show was the best part.

"No problem," Mike replied. "Do you know when the weather is supposed to let up?"

"In an hour or so," Harvey said, assessing the still-damp Mike. "Do you want to learn step number three while you wait?"

"Yeah," Mike said, sitting up suddenly.

"Okay," Harvey responded, "recap what I've taught you so far."

"I picked out him or her in a public place—like a bar, or standing in line, and I complimented them in a subtle way, making them feel unique. We exchange numbers, and then I don't call for a little over twenty for hours. When I do call, I keep it brief, and then take them somewhere memorable that makes them leave their comfort zone."

"Good boy. Now," he said, a smirk creeping onto his face, "what do you wear?"

"Wear?" Mike responded. "I mean, uhm, jeans and a t-shirt?"

"Are you taking them to a baseball game?"

"If I was seducing you, yeah—"

"—and that would probably get you in my pants," Harvey remarked. Mike made a mental note. "However, what if you're going to a restaurant? Do you know any of the first date clothing rules?"

"Hm…" Mike replied, deep in thought, "no leather pants?"

"That is an important one, since ninety-nine percent of women don't like men in leather pants."

"One hundred percent of guys in leather pants don't like women."

"Any other rules?" Harvey asked, reading the blank look on Mike's face as a blatant 'no.' "Fine—we'll use me as an example again. You're taking me on that rooftop date you were talking about. What would you wear, knowing I care about how you dress?"

Nothing. "Oh, ah…not a skinny tie?"

"That would be a start, I suppose. Just determine the type of person you're taking on a date before anything—maybe they dress casually but long to be formal, or vice-versa."

"Don't most people dress how they want to dress? I mean, Jessica could make Friday's casual but I still don't think you would come to work wearing jeans."

"Doesn't mean I'm not attracted to people who wear jeans."

"What, opposites attract?" Mike asked, smiling at his boss. "We're humans, not magnets, Harvey."

"You're losing the point here, pup—there's more to people than what they show. Remember that."

Harvey's eyes met Mike's, and for a second Mike was lost in the absolute truth of that statement. After all, Harvey was a cold-hearted bastard that would never hire a drug dealer to give him a second chance. And Mike was a sweet, innocent kid that would never try to seduce his boss.

"I'll remember."

"Care to guess what step three is?"

"Act like a douche-bag throughout the whole date?" Mike tried. "Be so relaxed it will look like you took one too many Valium?"

"Neither. Step number three is chivalry."

"Chivalry?"

"Chivalry."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you hold open doors for her. You pull out her seat for her. You pay the bill. Now, if she was a he, you obviously wouldn't do this—you want to make him feel capable, and in control. Instead, you would make a lot of eye contact and listen raptly to every word he says."

"Why?" Mike asked.

"She wants to feel like a lady. He wants to feel like your hero. It will give him the biggest ego trip for the length of the date, and then when you're gone all he'll think about will be the way you looked at him. He won't be able to resist calling you."

Mike nodded, trying not to look up at Harvey. "Okay, but you open doors for people all the time, and I don't see people ripping their clothes off for you."

"Aside from you, of course," Harvey said, grinning slyly. Mike opened his mouth as though to respond with a witty comeback, and then closed it again, coming up with nothing. He blushed.

"Well…you shouldn't have been looking!" Except you did, and now you're thinking about screwing me in the office. I've got to say, I deserve a ton of points for originality on that one, Harvey.

"It's my office, so forgive me if I wasn't aware there was a certain area I was forbidden to look at." Harvey replies, the smile still in place.

"That view is reserved for significant others," he said, and something flashed behind Harvey's eyes. He continued to smile, however, so Mike could've sworn he imagined it, but not unlike his boss swallowing nervously and biting back his words, it was there.

"Well, excuse me, Magic Mike, I'll make sure to tip you next time."

"Or date me," Mike replied.

A pause filled the room.

"Or date you," he echoed. The smirk returned, but this time it held a sad tinge, and he looked down at his hand for a second before turning to Mike again. "Your lips are blue."

Mike raised a few fingers to his mouth, gingerly running his fingers over his lips, his thumb tugging his lower one down. "Yeah," he said, surprised.

Harvey sighed. "Well, shit." He stood up suddenly, walking to the closet that he had tucked into his office, and opened the door, rifling through its contents.

"What are you looking for?" Mike asked.

"Another dry towel," Harvey replied. "You, in your infinite wisdom, can't manage to dry yourself off properly, and now you're freezing."

"I am pretty cold," Mike admitted.

"Mm," Harvey said, scowling. "Which means you'll get sick, and won't come into work Monday. Donna will give me shit, I'll have to get another associate to do my work who won't bring me coffee like you do—"

"—other associates bring you coffee all the time!"

"Yes, but I usually have Donna dump it out," he responded offhandedly.

"Wait, why?" Mike questioned. "They go to the same stand I do."

"You get the order right."

"Milk, no sugar isn't exactly rocket science."

"They get it wrong."

"How?"

"I don't know," Harvey said, his tone reminding Mike of a twelve-year-old, "they just do. Wrong type of milk."

Mike raised an eyebrow, and Harvey was hit by the strange sensation of looking into a blonde, blue-eyed mirror. "You didn't actually try their coffee, did you?"

"I plead the fifth."

"This isn't a criminal case, you can't pull that. Just admit it—you like me more, therefore you'll only drink my coffee," Mike stated, shocked.

"No," Harvey said. "And I can't find a towel."

"What are you going to do?" Mike teased. "If I get sick, you can't trust anyone else to not put cyanide in your coffee, so you'll go a whole day without it. Or, you could ask Donna, but she'll be mad at you for getting me sick, so something worse than poison could end up in there. I'm thinking tails. Of what creature? I'll leave that up to your imagination."

Harvey scowled, glancing around the hallway. "No one's here, right?" He asked.

"Not besides us—"

"—okay. What I'm about to do, you can't tell anyone about. Ever. In fact, after this point, we won't even discuss it. It stays here."

"Like…Vegas rule?"

"Stronger. Should you choose to vocalise it, I will deny it and claim you're sleeping with Keanu."

"I think you mean Kyle—"

"—he's dark haired and his name starts with a 'k'. As far as I'm concerned, he's Keanu," Harvey snapped.

"Okay, deal—especially if you call Kyle Keanu to his face."

Harvey extended his hand, and Mike shook it. Before he could ask exactly what Harvey intended to do, his arms were wrapped around Mike.

"I—is this—is this a hug?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Harvey said, his tone implying Mike's idiocy.

"Not to sound ungrateful, or anything, but you're about a foot away from me, Harvey."

Harvey frowned. "Isn't that how hugs work?"

"No," Mike said, chuckling. "Do you want me to show you?"

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Please, Mike, enlighten me on how you like to be embraced."

Mike continued to laugh, pulling back from the thick cords of muscles in Harvey's arms to assess his torso, then slipping his hands under Harvey's suit jacket. Harvey swallowed quietly, but Mike caught the gesture and grinned. He continued to trace his fingers over the smooth fabric of Harvey's shirt, sliding his hand up over the shifting muscles of his back; it occurred to him post strip-tease that his body had nothing on Harvey's, and he almost felt self-conscious.

Except he could feel Harvey's heart hammering against his ribcage, his body warming under Mike's fingers and his breathing deepening. Mike finally wrapped his arms fully around Harvey, and Harvey instantly stepped closer to Mike. Their chests brushed and Mike rested his chin on Harvey's shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his knees go a little weak when his boss hugged him back. Harvey's hands encircled his lower back first, not unlike Mike had done, but slower—Mike felt as though Harvey was mapping out Mike's nuances with his slightly calloused palm, remembering what lay where.

As far as Harvey knew, this could easily be his last excuse to touch Mike like this.

Mike knew that this was only a preview of coming attractions.

Nonetheless, he felt his heartbeat synchronise with Harvey's after a short moment, and inhaling a trace of cologne and Harvey's skin made adrenaline pump through his veins. He felt as though he was at the top of the world and in the safest place he could be simultaneously, and he wasn't sure what his emotions were doing.

It confused Mike, suddenly, whether he had captured Harvey's heart or if Harvey had captured his.

"Isn't this better?" Mike murmured, his lips inches away from Harvey's skin.

"Yeah," Harvey responded, a sigh embedded in his words that made his hot breath drift over Mike's ear. Mike shivered.

"Still cold?" Harvey asked. "You feel like a heater to me."

"That's supposed to be your job," Mike said. He realised that the ice cube he had under his tongue was melting and that it would soon be liquid, making his lips red again—he slid it out and pressed it against his lips for good measure, and gave another shiver.

Mike pressed his cheek to his boss's shoulder, feeling the shoulder bones underneath the fabric and skin tense and then relaxed, unsure as to whether he was being affectionate or attacking. Or attacking affectionately. He completely understood why Harvey's body was so confused.

Harvey's jaw clenched and unclenched, his brain desperately trying to restrain himself from leaning to the side and pressing his cheek on Mike's head—that's what this position was for, right? But that would be inappropriate. Completely. So he decided to watch Mike's hair instead, analysing every strand to keep himself from leaning into Mike more.

Mike fought back the urge to growl at Harvey's unresponsiveness. Damn it, the man was good! Anyone else would have been lying next to him in bed by now, curling up and sleeping after fantastic sex, but no, not Harvey. Harvey just had to fight him, didn't he?

Maybe that was the whole reason Mike liked him so much. Either way, he had to step up his game.

He nuzzled the top of his head against the sensitive skin by Harvey's ear, and he felt the low, "Mm," that resounded through Harvey's chest. Harvey's hands ran up Mike's back once and Mike found himself incredibly willing to do this for the whole night—and then the next morning, and the day after that, and…

"You're quiet," Harvey said.

"I'm thinking," Mike replied.

"You're always thinking. You just usually do it out loud."

Mike pulled back from Harvey; his arms still wrapped around him and their chests close, but now Mike was staring him in the eyes, their faces inches away. Harvey was met by a sea of blue and dark pupils, a dark ring around Mike's iris that he'd never noticed from their usual distance. Their faces were inches away, and he felt his heart start to beat faster.

Mike smiled. "Are you actually asking me to talk for once?"

"Consider it your lucky day," Harvey replied. You have no idea, Mike thought, staring into dark brown orbs that seemed to instantly make his stomach drop and listening to Harvey's rich voice drop an octave.

He was so screwed.

"You," Mike said. "I was thinking about you. I was…trying to figure out why you would be single, and honestly, despite everything, I can't come up with one good answer."

"I'm not exactly the most compassionate guy on the planet, kid. You've said it yourself."

"You hired me," he argued.

Harvey paused. "That I did."

"Women love you. Men love you. You can seduce anyone—"

"—seduce. Not make them stay. There's a big difference."

"What?" Mike asked, his eyes widening.

"Oh, you can charm someone into bed, no problem. But anything more than that? That's out of your control. That's…no one's control. You can't manipulate them forever."

"Why not?" Panic filled Mike, although he tried his hardest to keep it out of his voice.

"Well, you get married, then you get divorced, then you end up losing half your money, then you end up begging me for money, then I say no and you move in because I'm a pushover, then I'm living with you and people start to assume we're a couple, so no girls will sleep with us. Then we die alone. See what I mean? It's bad."

"Oh, we die alone. You know, with each other, but alone." Mike says.

"Yeah," Harvey said, smiling. He turned his head to the window then, and Mike followed suit—droplets still clung to the glass pane, but outside no more fell. Traffic noise was more audible now that the pouring water had stopped and the smell of wet pavement wafted in through the window.

"The rain stopped," Harvey said, not looking at Mike.

"It did," Mike replied.

"I suppose you want to go home."

"It's what, midnight?" Mike asked.

"Eleven thirty, actually," Harvey said.

"Wanna grab some pizza?" Mike asked. "Or, you know, whatever the expensive lawyer equivalent of pizza is?"

Harvey pulled back from Mike, reaching for his coat, a small smile on his face. "Better be good pizza."

Mike grinned at his boss, his blue eyes shining in the semi-darkness. "The best you've ever had."

OoOoO

I'm enjoying writing this. A lot. Hopefully I'm not making Harvey too OOC but the season two premier tilted my world off axis in the best way possible

I love your reviews. You are awesome. Yes, you.

A few people in particular are getting a shout out, though:

sHIKIGAMInOkANASH and LoveMarines, who's PM's I came home to and boosted my ego to Harvey levels. Just thank your lucky stars it isn't Louis levels, readers :D

My Shy Anon reader, who has left me reviews for both chapters

You're all getting skinny ties for Christmas.

LeahxLeah