It was supposed to be one last hoorah. Harvey didn't know it, but Mike had surreptitiously given Trevor an extra day in New York- one more day before his oldest, (best?) friend would move to the middle of nowhere, and hopefully straighten his life out. Mike had this feeling that Harvey would absolutely strangle him if he ever found out. But, hopefully, word would never reach him.

When Mike opened his apartment door, it was to a Trevor hosting a sad, hollow smile, and proudly holding up a sort of nondescript brown plastic bag. "I come bearing gifts."

"Then my home is yours for the evening. Come on in."

Both boys were wearing casual clothing- the way they always dressed with each other. A casual T-shirt and jeans hung off of each of their frames. Mike's were maybe a little looser than they used to be. But they were familiar and worn and little bit tired. Just like them.

Trevor grinned at his shirt as he reached in the bag, pulling out a big bottle of Bailey's and two silver shot glasses.

"Reliving the glory days?" He asked. Mike snorted.

"Yeah, all five of them."

Trevor topped up the two glasses, and they clinked them before downing them easily. The the creme went down smoothly, and Mike smiled contentedly.

"Hey- remember the first time we did this?"

"How can I forget?" Trevor grinned, fondly running his fingers over the label of the bottle. "We didn't even make it halfway before you decided that waffles were the greatest invention ever and ate five of them before passing out."

"Hey- at least I didn't think that I was god's gift to the universe and went out to pick up 'awesome hot babes.'"

"They were hot!"

"They stole your wallet."

"Yeah, they did."

Another shot. They had come far from trying to drink the bottle shot-for-shot when they were sixteen. Then, of course, Trevor just had to bring up Mike's failed escapades- and by the time the bottle was half gone and Mike was half-buzzed, they were roaring with laughter over Mike's switch to the "other team" for all of two weeks in senior year of high school after unsuccessfully asking three different girls to senior prom.

That was when Mike had to get up and go to the bathroom. Trevor watched him go.

It hit him- at that moment- that in a few hours he'd go home. And a few hours after that, he'd be on his way across the country. It filled him with a sense of something he couldn't quite describe in words. But even though he was the one who was leaving, it was like watching Mike walk away. Suddenly, all of his failures as a friend weighed on him in startling clarity. Telling Mike how to make a quick buck when the kid desperately needed it. Wheedling him over to the so-called dark side. Not watching out for him, the way he promised to that little boy who cried for three straight hours that night in the hospital so many years ago.

'Well damn.' Trevor really hoped this was for the best. That it wasn't just the grown-up equivalent of running away.

Fuck. He really needed to stop thinking. That was when he fingered the packet at the bottom of the bag. He was going to offer it to Mike as a goodbye gesture, but he decided his need was greater and, perhaps, drugs were the last thing Mike needed.

So he put it in his own drink instead.

Once the bottle was near the bottom, the two weren't very sloshed (they had a pretty good tolerance for alcohol, and the Bailey's wasn't the strongest thing they'd ever had by far), but Mike was acting very agitated. Twice he had complained of the phone ringing when his cell wasn't on and the land line was silent. Trevor had shrugged it off as drunk antics.

But his LSD hadn't kicked in yet, and Mike was turning from funny drunk to a terrified one.

Maybe he wasn't just drunk.

Trevor checked the bottom of his shot glass. It had a rather juvenile looking "M" etched into it- a mark from when they had first pooled their money as idiotic sixteen year olds and purchased their first supplies for getting shit-faced. Laughing at their own naivete, the two always stuck to their respective glasses.

Shit.

This wasn't a drunk Mike after all.

"Trev, man, something's wrong- I think someone's breaking in- I hear something at the window!" Mike was clutching the couch with white knuckles, pale as a ghost.

"Mike, there's nothing wrong- no one's here. I'm so sorry- you're just having a bad trip."

Mike didn't seem to hear him. "Dude! Don't you hear them?" He grabbed Trevor's shoulders, his grip vice-like.

"Hear what, Mike?" Mike's terror was leaking over to him. It was infectious.

"I think they're in the pipes- they're- Trevor! Trev! Don't listen to them!" Mike curled in on himself, crushing his palms against his ears.

"You're not hearing anything, Mike, it's just a bad trip."

"Trevor! It's snakes! Oh my god they're in the pipes." Mike was almost keening now- a low moan building in the back of his throat. "Make them go away. They're going to eat me."

Shit. He couldn't handle this. Trevor'd had a bad trip once. Mike sat with him the whole time. But honest to god, Trevor could hardly remember anything but the terrifying hallucinations. He didn't know what to do.

But he knew someone who did. At least, someone who had no trouble fixing problems- especially not for Mike.

So he grabbed Mike's phone and wasn't surprised that the guy's number was the third one in the speed-dial, after the emergency line and his grandmother.

Trevor answered the door with a strange mix of shame and relief. His face burned at the look the other man gave him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Save it," said Harvey Specter. The last time Trevor had seen him, he'd effortlessly kept a cool head while talking down two thugs into the legal agreement that saved his life. Saved Mike's as well. And, like last time, it was evident just from his body language that he didn't come for Trevor.

Mike was now under the coffee table, insisting that if he came out of the cage the sharks would get them.

"Trevor, they're going to get you! Get on the boat!"

Taking immediate control, Harvey strode over, cautiously kneeling by the table, speaking in soothingly low tones.

"I got him on the boat kid, the sharks already left."

"H-Harvey?"

"Yep, it's me."

"They're gone?"

"Punched 'em all in the nose."

"O-okay. If you're s-sure."

"Yeah- you have to come out now, though."

Shakily, Mike crawled out, and Harvey very slowly and gently took hold of Mike's elbow and shoulder, helping the kid to his feet. He swayed woozily for a moment before Harvey could lead him to the couch. He tactfully didn't comment on the almost-empty bottle, instead focusing on getting Mike situated. The kid still twitched and shook occasionally.

Then he set his sights on Trevor.

"What the hell happened?" He managed to grind out. Trevor blinked stupidly for a second.

"I, um, I'm leaving tomorrow..." he waited for Harvey to snap at him, but the man simply looked him dead on, keeping his fury relatively contained. And silent.

"I leave tomorrow, so we just... it was just supposed to be a goodbye. We were just drinking and talking. And I... I spiked my drink- but h-he took it by accident and I didn't realize until he started freaking out- it's my fault, don't be mad at him."

Harvey sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look. I don't doubt that you didn't do this on purpose. But somehow, all of his problems seem to stem from you. So you should go right now, and I'll take care of this. Montana will be good for the both of you."

Trevor breathed a sigh of relief- he'd gotten off easier than he expected.

"And if I see you, or hear about you, or see your name on his phone within the next year I will not hesitate to kick your ass and make it look like an accident."

Okay. He deserved that.

"A-alright. That's fair."

"That's lenient. And you're not going to forget it."

Trevor turned to the door.

"Hey, I know this is asking a lot, and I'm not in any position to ask for a favor-"

"You sure as hell aren't."

"But can you tell him goodbye for me?"

Harvey turned to Mike, who'd been silent for a good long while, simply staring at the table as if it were alive (and in his drugged state, it might appear to be so.).

Finally, after a few seconds (a few months, a few years), Harvey nodded and Trevor felt the tension uncoil from his limbs.

"Sure."

Trevor lingered just for a moment in the door. Harvey sat with Mike, both wearing casual clothing, the well worn shot glasses before them. It was like Harvey had, in his suave and smooth way, quietly filled the hole that Trevor would be leaving.

Harvey sat with Mike after Trevor had left. He was mad at the man, to be sure, but couldn't quite summon that same anger towards Mike. Mike, who simply wanted one last good memory of his friend to balance out all the recent bad ones. It was human. It was forgivable.

And Mike was hunched now, stuffing his head into his knees.

"Hey kid, what's happening?"

"We need to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Wait, wait." The anxiety was starting to creep into Mike's voice, but Harvey didn't let it penetrate his cool armor.

"I'll stop, I just need to know what to stop, Mike."

"It's, it's- Harvey! Stop! S-stop!"

"Mike, tell me. Talk to me."

"No time! Stop the car! Harvey! Stop! Stop the car! Please!"

"Okay, okay- I'm stopping, see? There." He very gently held onto Mike's arm, and his shoulder.

"H-harvey, you can't... you can't leave..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Like they did. Promise!" Mike was now desperately searching Harvey's face. Harvey's breath hitched for a second.

"O-of course kid."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Mike's heart rate slowed.

In the morning, Mike was greeted by a tremendous headache, and the vague sense that he would be better off forgetting the previous evening. What the hell had happened?

He remembered Trevor coming over, with the customary bottle, and the old stories told as if they were new. And then... Then...

Sharks? Why would there be sharks...?

And wait- did someone break in last night?

Shit- someone did- he heard sounds in the kitchen. Distantly, Mike realized he wasn't actually afraid. But he still reached out next to him and came up with a thick, heavy tome. Something dry and legal and good for stunning intruders with. He crept out of his room, clutching the book to his chest, and peered cautiously around the corner.

"I really hope you don't think you take out an attacker by boring them with legal code."

"Harvey?"

Harvey had two plates of pancakes ready and two mugs of coffee. He grinned sardonically.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty. Have some food."

"... What the hell?"

"Sit. Eat. How are you feeling?"

"Um... fine? I have a headache. And kind of everything hurts."

"So not fine."

"Not really."

Harvey chuckled.

"What exactly happened last night?"

"You don't remember." It wasn't a question, and Mike simply shook his head. "You, uh, you had a... bad trip."

Mike blanched. "Harvey- I didn't, I mean- I don't anymore- I don't do drugs, I don't even remember-"

"Relax, kid, Trevor told me what happened."

"Trevor drugged me?"

"Accidentally. It was meant for him."

Mike breathed deeply. "O-okay. Right."

"You're fine, kid." Harvey patted his shoulder affectionately. Mike grinned.

Trevor was startled from his reverie of Mike and Harvey and being replaced by his cellphone. His bus had long passed any area where the landscape was anything but trees and fields. He was only a third of the way towards Montana, but if this was any indication, the view wasn't going to get any more interesting.

He checked this phone- it was a message from Mike. Curious, surprised (and secretly quite pleased), he checked what it said.

Hey dude. Thanks for another memorable night. I hope you don't forget about me- your shot glass is here so you'll at least need to come and get it someday. -Mike

Trevor smiled. He didn't answer the phone- he'd made a promise after all- and realized that maybe Harvey hadn't totally replaced the hole he'd left in Mike's world.

If he was lucky, it may still be there when he got back.

END.

A/N: Sorry I haven't written lately! I tried and failed with Camp Nano, so I can fill prompts again. This wasn't TOO H/c-y (maybe someone else will write a more delicious H/C story) but I like the Harvey/Trevor interaction. I like the parallel between them. [And yes, Mike was flashing back to the car accident]

Un'beta-d.