Before I decided to write my own Suits stories I lurked around here quite a bit and developed a bit of a taste for poor old Mike getting himself into tricky situations. My only problem is that sometimes I feel like the guys lose character in the rush to make additional hurt/comfort opportunities. My task to myself was to make one where they didn't. I have no idea if I have succeeded or not but hey, at least I gave it a shot!

Best foot forward...

Prologue.

"I'll have the contracts on your desk by the end of the day."

It had started with Harvey's usual promise; sandwiched in between him standing from his seat and offering a handshake over the desk. The usual response was a handshake back, a firm business-like nod of acceptance and sometimes – but not always – some expression of thanks. In the world of high-business it was what passed for goodbye although clearly no one had told Tucker Stemmings who had instead remained sprawled across the black leather armchair, lazily swirling the dregs of his drink and brushing the dirt from his red velvet suit.

"Oh no," he'd drawled as Harvey had watched him, hand still hanging over the desk, "No need for that, I'll tell you what, have Michael deliver them to me at the club."

Quickly all eyes had swung in his direction and feeling the sudden burn of intensity Mike's eloquence had got up and fled from the room.

"Huh? Wait, me? As in – ,"

"You, yes," Tucker had replied, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips and twisting the shape of his pepper pot goatee. It had been by no means a reassuring spectacle and under the stare of the red bulbous eyes Mike had felt himself starting to squirm,

"But – ,"

"Sure he will," Harvey had countered, throwing him headlong into the lion pit, "He'd be happy to, wouldn't you Mike?"

"Well – ,"

Tucker hadn't needed to wait for an answer, slapping his thigh and rising from his chair before pausing briefly to finish his drink,

"So that's settled then, the club, tonight?"

"Trust me," Harvey had continued smoothly, inching their client ever closer to the door, "He wouldn't miss it."

Tucker had grinned, turning in the doorway to flash his white teeth. They were narrower than Mike expected normal teeth to be and jammed in together like a line of people waiting impatiently outside a venue. The fact that they were framed by drooping jowls did little to compliment the overall look which had been finished in style with the aforementioned velvet and an actual cravat in garish animal print. He had cared for the appearance only mildly less than he'd cared for the man who was wearing it all.

"I'll see you tonight then, Michael."

Yep. Tucker Stemmings was goddamn creepy.

He'd raised it with Harvey – naturally he had – running with the exact same thought the moment their client had been out of earshot though sadly enough not quite out of eyeshot. It had seemed impossible against mere glass and taupe but the man had actually clashed with the décor. Harvey had snorted and thrown him a look, raising his eyebrow questioningly,

"Are you scared of him?"

"No," Mike had shot back quickly, making the eyebrow quirk more in amusement, "I just – I don't like him that's all. He's too – ,"

"What? Old for you?"

"Actually I was going to say weird."

Harvey had moved back round to his desk; the fact that he'd been smirking had not gone unnoticed,

"Oh come on Mike, give him a chance. I happen to think you'd make a very nice couple."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Maybe a little."

He'd still been smirking – it had still been annoying and in the face of what had seemed all but inevitable Mike had decided on one last push.

"I'm sorry but did I do something to you in a past life? Is that why I'm being punished right now?"

"A past life?" Harvey had echoed, deigning to look up, "You don't think you've put me through enough in this one?"

Mike however had been warming to this theme,

"Did I besiege the castle? Burn down your village – ,"

"Easy Hannibal," Harvey had sighed, "The elephants are getting tired. Besides what's the problem? All you've got to do is give Tucker the papers and then you can go home and do whatever it is that fake lawyers do on a Thursday night. I wouldn't know because I'm not a fake lawyer."

Mike had stared back at him, deeply unimpressed,

"Actually we all get together and sit around a shrine with pictures of you. We light a few candles, sacrifice some goats – ,"

"Sounds like fun," Harvey had shrugged back before sliding a folder across the tabletop. Mike had scooped it up in one hand missing the moment that the conversation had changed, "The papers. Drop them off and then you're done. And try and act like it's not the last place on earth you want to be. For some reason Stemmings seems to like you."

"Well thats a shame because it definitely isn't mutual. I don't like him at all,"

"Then pretend you do."

"How?"

Harvey had sighed at him,

"Aren't you supposed to be the people person around here? It's simple. Smile, nod, laugh at his jokes - ,"

"Ohh," Mike had nodded, snapping his fingers, "You mean like a women who's on a date with you? Got it."

Harvey had glared back at him then pointed to the door,

"Go,"

"Fine."

"Oh and Mike?"

He'd stopped on the threshold, close to salvation; one hand on the handle, one foot out the door.

"What?"

"Look on the bright side," Harvey had reasoned, wearing a patented shit-eating grin. Mike had almost groaned at the sight of it, "If tonight goes well you could be a June bride."

He had turned and left the office in silence.