A/N: This story is hopefully going to build to its 'T' rating (possibly changing to an M at the end) and is male x male, so if that bothers you, I suggest you enjoy a hot cup of "buzz off". Seriously, don't flame for something you know you're going to hate right off the bat.

I firmly believe that Mike and Harvey will always find their way to each other as the team to beat all teams, regardless of what happens beforehand. So despite the fact that Mike still attends Harvard, he still finds his way into Harvey's interview room looking like a puppy who needs someone else to clean up his mess. 3

Mike stepped through the door, prepared for his entire future to be flushed down the toilet, when he spotted the grandfatherly-looking gentleman at Dean Lopata's desk.

"Sorry, sir, am I in the wrong room?" The man at the desk was definitely not Dean Lopata.

"No, you're in the right place, Mr. Ross. Please sit down." Mike waited for the other man to speak first, unsure of why the usual Dean wasn't sitting behind the desk that still had his name plate sitting on the finished cherry wood. "It seems, Mr. Ross, that the woman your friend sold the test answers to was Dean Lopata's daughter." He felt all the blood drain from his face.

"Though he still has until the end of the year, it has been requested that his resignation be tendered. However, I - and a few others on the Board - felt it would be a conflict of interest for him to be the one who rendered punishment to the person responsible, so I am here in his stead to listen to Mr. Evans' case and, now, to what you have to say. I am Dean Eliots, and my decision will be final, so…" Here, he folded his hands on the desk in front of him and peered at Mike through very old-looking spectacles. "…what did you come here to tell me?"

Mike breathed deep, trying to squash the feelings of abject horror in his stomach. Trevor was still protecting him, protecting his future, and Mike was about to ruin all that…why?

Because I still have to live with myself every day after this, he though, steeling his resolve and beginning.

"Sir, I know you offered Trevor Evans a way to avoid expulsion. Well, the reason he didn't take it is he was…he was trying to protect me. He's the one who sold the test, but I'm the one who took it so please - please - do not punish him for his loyalty to me." By the time he had finished, Mike was looking down at his hands, but he snapped his head up when the other man started laughing. Not just a chuckle, either, but a full-blown laugh.

"Trust me, Mr. Ross. I - as my predecessor was - am well aware you're the one who wrote down the answers for Mr. Evans. He's not even in that particular class, but you're his roommate and you are in that class. You actually scored perfectly." Mike did his best to look abashed, but it was pretty difficult with the man across from him giving a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. "I'd say congratulations, but I think we both know you were going to ace it."

"I know this won't go anywhere towards helping my case, but does having an eidetic memory qualify as cheating?" He knew this probably wasn't the time to be joking - he had no idea how this was going to go - but this man reminded him so much of his father. Years older, obviously, but even when Mike had been in trouble, his father had always made him laugh. It was how he always ended up telling the truth.

"When you use it the correct way, no, it doesn't. However, given the fact that you're choosing to admit to your actions, particularly given your friend's silence and everything you have on the line here - yes, I know about your scholarship and your acceptance to Harvard - I'm inclined to hear you out before passing judgement. However…" Here, he leaned forward in his seat to place his chin in his folded hands…and there was that smirk again. Mike had to suppress a snort as an image of Albus Dumbledore took hold - albeit with a much shorter beard and a distinct lack of wizard robes - as the man continued. "…be advised, Mr. Ross. I am a father of 8 and a grandfather of 19. I am a very skilled bullshitter. Therefore, I'd recommend the truth in this particular instance."

As if Mike was considering anything else right now.

And so he told him. About the fraternity brothers he held a grudge against that had held a grudge against him. About the money Trevor loaned him that they had been tricked out of that Mike had, of course, been obliged to pay him back.

Eliots was silent for a few moments, contemplating the story Mike had told (and he had been truthful - leaving out that Trevor needed that money back to repay a drug dealer wasn't lying, it was omission).

"Mr. Ross, why do you want to be a lawyer?" And then he explained about the accident that led him to living with Trevor's family and the check and his grandmother and his love of the law…the kind of law that delivered justice. Not the arbitrary "pot is legal or illegal" kind of law, but the kind of law that dictates what one person should know better than to do to another person.

It was a question he had answered many times, but after this meeting, he didn't think anyone had given him as important of a response as Eliots did.

"And where does selling test answers fall on that scale of yours, Mr. Ross?"

"It ranks, sir. Higher than you'd think, given my actions, but in the grand scheme of what I owe Trevor - what he's done for me - it's not the first time I've compromised what I believe in."

"And has it occurred to you that had you let the notion of revenge go, you wouldn't have needed to compromise to pay Mr. Evans back?" Mike gave a soft sigh and gave a shake of his head, looking down at his folded hands.

"Every minute of the last 24 hours, sir. It's why I'm sitting here in front of you. Trevor may have sold the answers and it may have been his idea on how I could repay him, but it was my stupid grudge that put him in that position."

"Mr. Ross." Mike looked up from his hands and saw the man had circled around to lean against the desk directly in front of him. "I told you I'm a skilled bullshitter and you, at least at this particular moment, are one of the most truthful individuals I've ever had to deal with. I hope you realize you'll need to get good poker face when you're a lawyer?" Mike caught the 'when' and it gave him enough hope to kick back a little joke.

"Poker is what got me into this mess, sir." He was relieved to see the man smile and rub his chin a bit, seemingly in thought. He waited with bated breath for the other man to speak again.

"Mr. Ross, I'm going to have the campus police issue you a citation for underage alcohol consumption and I am going to require you to complete 100 hours of community service in the next two months before you graduate. Basically, you'll have no free time between your service, job, and classes to get in trouble - particularly with your current roommate, who will be placed on academic suspension.

"Speaking of Mr. Evans, I hope you're aware that with his grades, he's already on track to not graduate on time, so I'd advise you have a conversation with your friend and convince him to pull his head out of his ass." Mike nearly choked on a laugh, despite the seriousness of the advice he was being given and the surprise at finding out Trevor didn't have the grades to graduate right now. "I believe you could make a great lawyer one day young man - you simply need to remember to surround yourself with the right influences. Keep your nose clean for two more months and, as difficult as you're going to find this, keep a safe distance from that roommate of yours. You'll find yourself in quite a few more situations like this otherwise."

Mike sat speechless in the chair for a few moments before realizing the gravity of the situation - no marks on his academic record, nothing to make Harvard rescind his acceptance, neither him or Trevor were going to jail…

"Mr. Ross, unless there's something further you'd like to say, I believe you have class in fifteen minutes?"

SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS

"What am I doing?" Cold water dripped from his face, but he still felt hot - too hot - and his heart was beating fast enough to fall out of his chest. Words from over four years ago rang through his ears. Keep yourself a safe distance from that roommate of yours. You'll find yourself in quite a few more situations like this otherwise.

And hadn't that been the truth? Graduated for three months, he'd chosen to take a few months off to take care of his grandmother before job hunting. Career-wise, not the brightest move, but his grandmother hadn't needed quite as much care when he graduated. Now he wished he'd searched for a job - at least then he wouldn't need the cash for her medical care as immediately as he did right now.

He wouldn't have needed to ask Trevor for help again. And didn't that just scream 'typical' of his life?

You do this and you're done. You never need to ask him for another damn thing again. Come on, Mike, one more…

SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS

"Rick Sorken?" He heard Donna call the name a third time and rolled his eyes. Who doesn't show up to a scheduled interview? Sure, the kid was probably just caught in traffic or something, but even if he showed up now, Donna wouldn't event let him back.

Harvey poured another glass of water, wishing for the (how many interviews had he had already, twelve?) twelfth time that he was allowed to drink hard liquor during these interviews.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sorken, you are five minutes late. Is there a reason I should let you in?" Of course she wouldn't let him in - five minutes late in their world meant you'd already lost the client, lost the upper hand, and lost the case. He didn't hear a response - he didn't need to.

But he saw Donna turn to him with an impressed smirk and a wink and he nearly dropped his water glass. Late and clever? Maybe this kid was another Harvey.

He unbuttoned his jacket, slipped his left hand into his pocket, and strode to the door - Donna's signal to let the kid know he could come back.

And damn if the kid didn't look like a kid - he'd almost go so far to say jailbait if this were a more appropriate moment…which it definitely wasn't.

"Harvey Spectre, hi."

"Yeah, uh, Rick Sorken." Harvey nearly stopped to give the kid a raised eyebrow - who stuttered over their own name? - but he let it slide. Out of thirteen candidates thus far, this was the only one to get a wink - he had to at least see why.

"Have a seat."

"Tha—" And then the briefcase dumped, leaving Harvey wondering if his "jailbait" assessment hadn't been more appropriate than he thought.

SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS

"Woah." Mike wasn't really sure what to do, but the cocky smile on the other man - Harvey - told him he wasn't quite in trouble yet. Of course, he had to control himself when that smirk appeared - he'd thought the man was sexy on first sight, but that look? That look should be illegal - which is funny, because he's a lawyer, Mike thought stupidly. Dammit, Ross, focus! Potential jail situation, first - then ogle the hot interviewer.

"I don't suppose you'd let me explain before you call the police?" He watched Harvey drop into the chair, lean back, and spread his hands wide.

"Tell me a story."

For a moment, Mike felt a flashback to those short thirty minutes in Dean Lopata's office speaking to Dean Eliots about his past and what remained of his future. Honesty had been the best policy then, right?

So Mike started with his graduation from Harvard, his decision to take care of his grandmother first, and the subsequent need for a large amount of cash immediately. He explained how he had wound up in Harvey's interview room with an open briefcase of pot instead of in the hands of the people who were waiting to haul him to jail. As he told the story, he realized just how ridiculous it sounded, but Harvey seemed to be enjoying it.

"How did you know they were cops?"

"I read this novel in elementary school; pretty much the same exact thing."

"You read a novel…in elementary school." Mike shrugged, comfortable enough to know he wasn't getting handed to the cops in the next ten minutes at least.

"What? I like to read."

"And why'd you ask them what time it was?"

"To throw them off. I mean, what kind of drug dealer asks a cop what time it is when he's got a briefcase full of pot, right?"

"Jesus, we should hire you. I'd give you the $25,000 just as a signing bonus." Mike's heart stopped - he wasn't this lucky.

"I'll take it." Harvey gave him a calm down look and a smirk.

"I'm not in the habit of hiring drug dealers."

"Lucky, I'm not in the habit of being one. Although I understand if you want to go with one of the other guys out there. I get it - it's fun to hang out with people who aren't that bright. You know, just to see how the other half lives." And there was that sexy smirk again.

"You've been in here for twenty-five minutes," about twenty longer than I've even wanted the others in here, "and I don't know anything about you besides you read novels in elementary school and you can almost avoid getting caught with a briefcase full of pot."

"What if I say I consume knowledge like no one you've ever met and I actually passed the Bar before I started at Harvard?" Harvey snorted.

"I'd say you're full of shit." He spotted the BarBri Legal handbook sitting to Harvey's left and pointed.

"Read me something out of that handbook. Pick a page - one that isn't the page with all the authors - and start reading." He could tell from Harvey's facial expression that he was skeptical, but Mike was ok with that. Those were the best type of people to prove wrong.

"Civiil liability associated with agency is based on several factors, including…" As Harvey began reading, he remembered sitting in his apartment, Trevor watching some crap television in the background, flipping pages in an effort to prove both Dean Eliots and that dickhead from his non-required pre-law class wrong. He did have time to do other (more productive than smoking pot) things, and he could pass the Bar before even going to law school. Of course, if he was wrong, that fail would always be on his record when applying for jobs.

Of course he ended up being right.

The page appeared in his mind and he continued from where Harvey was as though the page were right in front of him.

"Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves." Here he stopped quoting and made actual eye contact with Harvey. Damn the man had impressive eyes. Stop it, Mike. "Although I've always had a bit of a disagreement with some of my professors on what qualifies as reasonable," he said with a smirk.

"Eidetic memory?" Mike nodded. "So why take it before going to law school and risk the fail?"

"Some dickhead in my pre-law class bet me I couldn't pass the Bar without going to law school."

"Seems you've got an issue with betting, kid." The part of Mike that had always hated being called "kid" wanted to bristle at the nickname, but even it was tamped down by a different part of Mike. A part that…liked it?

"I only take bets I know I can win…as long as someone's not adjusting the odds behind the scenes," he added, remembering the situation that had nearly caused his expulsion. "Although I usually think I can win, so I guess that would qualify as a betting problem." His smart-ass comment was rewarded with another smirk - what does it get this guy to actually smile?

SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS*SUITS

After a quick demonstration of the kid's law ability (where he floored Harvey while playing hearts - he really was another Harvey), some more witty comments that confirmed exactly why Donna had given the wink, and a layout of his expectations (in a much gentler way than he usually would deliver which had absolutely nothing to do with any other expectations he wanted to lay out for the…kid wasn't really an appropriate way to end that thought), Harvey found himself sitting at the laptop e-mailing Jessica about their new associate.

A/N: Please Review :)