#if prognosis doesn’t get better I’m gonna have to start finding DIY shows and go back to my roots and pop by dark mourning’s next show

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

can people concert tour in canada or do I have to start sacrificing shit

[loyalty2waystreet]

Happy Stoniversary

by Loyalty2WayStreet

Summary:  Every year, Harvey and Mike indulge in a little tradition. Each year they skirt closer and closer to that invisible line. What happens when they finally cross it?  (Explicit)

Find it on AO3 here.

                                                      5+1 Things

1.  2012

Three things happen when Harvey Specter gets stoned; he loses his inhibitions, becomes very touchy feely and lastly, he gets super horny.  As a rule, he doesn’t get stoned.  But Harvey trusts Mike, and the kids Grammy just died, so he lights the damn joint and smokes up, in a show of support.

Mike has a colourful history with weed, so when he gets stoned, he still gets high, still gets horny and giggles his ass off and maybe gets a little clumsy, but because of his eidetic memory, he can mostly still function as an average human.

It’s Harvey that brings up pissing in somebody’s office, and Mike is delighted.  Stoned Harvey is life, and Mike can’t get enough of him, he thinks this might have been what Harvey was like back in college because he looks and acts so boyishly, a broad grin lighting up his face.  They come up with a plan of attack on Hardman, and Mike volunteers to down the Gatorade.

On their way to the firm, Harvey pulls and pushes Mike around like he’s a toddler, he even reaches across in the cab and fastens his seatbelt.  Mike thinks it’s weird and it must show on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Harvey asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Nothing really, you’re just super tactile and very DIY when you’re stoned,” he answered, watching Harvey closely.

Harvey started laughing, and those four perfect creases at the corner of each eye that Mike loves, appear.

“You’re right, that’s pretty much my M.O. when I’m high,” he replied, as he reached over and ruffled Mike’s hair.

They don’t end up pissing in Hardman’s office after all, but they do have another joint and solve the world’s problems laying on the floor under Mike’s cubicle, in the dull light of the bullpen.

Mike’s brain, although slower than usual, comes up with the idea that Hardman faked the document and he rushed to his feet to test his theory.  He forgets he’s under his desk and slams his head into it.  He’s sure he sees yellow canaries flying in circles for about thirty seconds.

“You doing okay there, Rookie?” Harvey says leaning over him and getting right in his face.  Harvey starts stroking his head, and Mike is smiling back at him like an idiot.

Mike thinks Harvey’s giving him heart eyes?  Then he remembers that he’s stoned and that he always thinks everybody loves everybody when he’s high, so he dismisses it.

They confirm Mike’s theory; Hardman very well could have used Donna’s date stamp to fake the document, so they go in search of Hardman’s calendar in the file room.

Mike is flicking through his fifth filing cabinet, thinking about how nice a hot dog would be right about now when Harvey starts dashing toward him.

Mike turns to look at him when he calls out and slams his ribs hard into an open filing cabinet.  He yells out and doubles over in pain holding onto the no doubt bruised area.

“Jesus, Rookie, you’re a bit of a spaz when chemically altered, aren’t you?” Harvey teases, but reaches out to rub Mike’s back and right him against the filing cabinet.

“Let me have a look,” he demands, dropping to his knees and pulling Mike’s shirt up with one hand.

Harvey’s hand is silky but cool, and Mike flinches a little when it touches his skin.  He gently examines the area, lightly running his fingers up over each of Mike’s ribs.

“Just a bruise,” Harvey mutters as he flicks his thumb back and forth over Mike’s left nipple, and then runs his hand down the curve of Mike’s flank.

Mike stops breathing for a second, and Harvey needs to stand up and not have his eyes level with his cock anymore, or it’s going to become very apparent that Mike is enjoying the attention.  Harvey looks up at him then and grins mischievously before he stands.

Mike’s breath whooshes out, and he needs to remind himself that Harvey is touchy-feely when he’s high and that he gets ultra horny.  That’s all this is he assures himself, even if he has catalogued what Harvey looked like on his knees staring up at him with that look, for later.

“I found Hardman’s calendar, the smug bastard knew, and he’s setting me up!” Harvey accused.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Nothing more tonight, let’s go home, we can take the bastard down tomorrow,” He replied, yanking Mike by the sleeve in the direction of the lifts.

2.  2013

“So, it’s been a year since we?” Mike asked making a subtle joint smoking gesture.

Harvey had given him the Friday off as it was the anniversary of Grammy’s death.  He also decided, each year they should keep the tradition up of spending some time together around that time, just to unwind and be present in each other’s lives, even if they did light up and get wasted.  It was cheap therapy.

"It is,” Harvey answered, wiggling his eyebrows with a look of pure ratbag written all over his face.

"Should we maybe?” Mike ventured, trying not to laugh at Harvey’s hysterical boyish grin.

“I think I need to go get a coffee,” Harvey smiled, standing and giving Mike a wink.  “My place at 8ish?”

“Deal,” Mike agreed, trying to hide his excitement at getting another night with ‘high Harvey’.

By 9 pm they are thoroughly off their faces and heading to the firm, coming up with a vague plan to move Louis’s desk and personal belongings down to Paul Porter’s now vacant office on the 46th floor.

"Why does Louis have a picture of Shannon Miller in his office?”  Mike asks, brushing cat hair off his pants.

Harvey laughs and makes a funny snorting sound, “He likes gymnastics almost as much as his precious ballet,” he replies, air quoting the precious to magnify his prognosis; that Louis is weird.

“I did gymnastics when I was little before I started wrestling.” Mike supplied.

Harvey dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“You?” He said chuckling, “I’m sorry, I just imagined you in lycra.”

“Hahaha, I was only 9, and stop imagining me in lycra!”  Mike complained, throwing the picture into the last box.

“I can still do a mean cartwheel.” He bragged, wondering if he should ask Harvey if he kept food in his office, he had the munchies big time.

“Oh come on, that’s gymnastics 101, everyone can do those,” Harvey replied cockily.

“You, Harvey Specter, can cartwheel?” He said disbelievingly, “Prove it!”

Harvey thought it might be a bad idea for a few seconds, that is until he realised that he needed to prove Mike wrong.

“Fine,” Harvey said lifting his hands over his head to stretch, showing off a patch of skin above his hips that Mike found more interesting than he probably should.

He followed Harvey out into the wide hallway and watched as his boss did the most uncoordinated cartwheel in the history of cartwheels, anyone had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.  It was spectacularly shit, he nearly crashed into Donna’s desk and landed on his face.  Mike was laughing so hard he was crying, the laughter doubling him over when he saw Harvey’s solemn face.

“I don’t see you doing any better Rookie?” He challenged, pouting.

At that Mike winked, bent over and touched the floor and then stretched his hands over his head and as far back as he could.  Harvey noted that he was far more flexible than he looked and saved his more detailed thoughts on that for later, right now a challenge had been laid down.

Mike walked away from Harvey and back down the hall, doing his best stick up his ass gymnast impersonation, he pivoted and threw his hands in the air in a V, signalling the start of his routine.  Harvey was staring at him like he’d finally lost his mind.

Mike took off, sprinting like an armed criminal was chasing him and threw himself into the first cartwheel, but to Harvey’s surprise continued tumbling toward him at an alarming rate.  Mike had no idea how close he was to Harvey, and before he could stop they collided in mid-air, Harvey doing his best to grab Mike upright as they crashed to the ground, tangled up together, laughter shaking their bodies.

As they began to untangle themselves, Mike felt the heaviness of Harvey’s hand under his tee shirt; rubbing his belly softly, the searing heat of his hand making Mike shiver.  He put it down to how touchy feely Harvey was when he smoked pot, until the hand moved to rest just above his track pants, thumb rubbing lightly through the course hair, just above the band.  Mike’s pulse started to race, and all his blood rushed south as he swallowed loudly.

At that moment, the lift chimed, indicating its arrival.

“Shit,” Mike said, jumping to his feet, hauling Harvey up with him.

They ran and hid out in the closest office until the coast was clear.

As they left, Mike slapped the sign on Louis’s door.  “This office is marked for deep cleaning; people have complained about a smell of prune and pussy…. cat, kindly report to the 46th floor.“

Laughter was drifting through the halls of Pearson Darby as they left.

3.  2014

Mike had been back at Pearson Specter for three weeks, so it’s very last minute this year when they decide to visit the coffee cart guy on their way out of the office.

With zero inclination to return to Pearson Specter, they instead choose to launch an age old attack on Louis’s front yard.

"How much toilet paper do we need?” Harvey asked, migrating toward a large pack of thirty.

“I know this might surprise you Harvey, but I’m a teepeeing virgin,” Mike replied, a roguish smile on his face, “This pack should do,” he says, picking up a dodgy looking carton of thirty.

“That’s one ply,” Harvey complained, “I’m not throwing cheap toilet paper, I’m still classy.” He whined, doing an overexaggerated frown.

“You’re ridiculous!” Mike said, rolling his eyes as he picked up the expensive looking embossed three ply and threw it into the trolley.

“Let’s get some snacks,” Harvey suggested, jumping on the front of the trolley and pointing to the potato crisp aisle like he had spotted an island from a crow’ nest.

Two hours, four drinks and another joint later, Harvey Specter is giggling and throwing toilet paper over trees at 1 am in the morning.  Mike thinks this is the best day of his life.  He hits record on his iPhone, to get some video footage so that he can remember the joyous look on Harvey’s face as he desecrates Louis’ front lawn with toilet paper.  He might also use it to get a raise.

Mike pockets his phone and makes for the unused pile of toilet rolls, but in the process neglects to see a scary looking garden gnome in his path before it connects with his big toe.

“AWW FUCK!” He swears, forgetting what he’s doing momentarily until the next door neighbour’s dog starts going apeshit.

Security light flicks on, and Harvey sprints to Mike and grabs him, hauling him up and behind a tree out of sight just as Louis appears on the front porch.  Well, they think it’s Louis.  Someone with worse fashion sense than a Sacha Baron Cohen character, is wearing a size too small maroon Harvard onesie, fluffy slippers that look like cats, with some giant teeth whitening contraption in their mouth, looking like they’re about to blow a gasket.

“Jesus, my eyes.  No way Harvard sells those!” Harvey muttered, snickering.

“Oh my god, are those- “

“Stay still, or he’ll see us,” Harvey whispers into his ear as he presses Mike against the tree from behind.

Harvey’s dick is lined up with his crack, and he can feel every breath against his skin as Harvey breathes into his neck.  Harvey rolls his hips just enough that Mike knows even in his stoned haze that it’s happening, Harvey is rubbing his cock against his ass, and he is fucking turned on by it.  It seems ironic that he is a hardwood sandwich at that moment and he can’t contain himself and starts chuckling.  Harvey clamps a hand over his mouth.

Louis must hear the chuckle because he is irate and yelling about calling the police and getting a restraining order against his neighbour who Mike seems to recall killed Louis’s lawn on purpose when he last went to Boston.

A porch light flicks on across the street and a grumpy balding man steps out onto the veranda.

“Litt, what the fuck is going on?”

Mike and Harvey still and peer around the tree.  A visible trail of drool follows the whitening contraption out of Louis’s mouth.  Mike makes a gagging sound, and Harvey shoves his face into Mike’s neck, muffling his laughter.

“Don’t you bullshit me, Wayne, I know you did this,” Louis rages, “This time I’m calling the police, they have fingerprinting and shit these days, asshole!”

As he turns to go inside and make the call, they make their escape, running and giggling down the street like teenagers.

4.  2015

Jack Soloff had been coming at Harvey and messing with his salary, and Mike had just witnessed one of Harvey’s panic attacks when that time of the year came around again. “Maybe we should just give it a miss this year?” Mike suggested as they sat side by side in the office, giving Harvey an out if he needed it. “No, if anything I think I need a night out of my head right now.  Besides, it’s one of my favourite times of the year,” Harvey disclosed smiling for the first time in weeks as he recalled all their shenanigans. “You decide the what; I’ll supply the pot.” Harvey continued, giving Mike a wink. “Okay, rhyme time,” Mike replied standing, “I’m on it.  You want something low key that will piss Jack off.  Easy.” Harvey didn’t care what they did if he was with Mike.  He just wanted to forget about how alone he felt and how upset he’d gotten at the thought that Mike might leave him. Mike knew Jack was a proud man, so he figured something simple, that would dent that pride, would do the trick.  All it took was a quick call to Benjamin and an internet search for a wedding supplies shop.

_

When Harvey arrived at Mike’s apartment a day later and noticed the two blow up dolls on the couch, he had cause for concern.

“Tell me you’re not having a dry spell so bad you’ve had to resort to this?”

“Very funny old timer,” Mike snarked, grabbing two beers from the fridge and handing one over to Harvey, “Actually they’re participating in tonight’s festivities.”

“I’m a forty-year-old professional Mike, I’m-”

“Forty? Rounding down much?” Mike snorted, dodging out of Harvey’s reach, “Roll us a joint before your 50th birthday will you!”

Harvey narrowed his eyes, “Are you teasing me, because you like me, Mike?”

Mike stiffened, then relaxed when his brain caught up and he realised Harvey was joking.

“I like da weed, and you have da weed, man.” he deflected, nailing the accent.

At 1 am, two very stoned professional lawyers were seen climbing into a cab accompanied by two blow up dolls.  Apparently, Harvey’s standards had plummeted down to his expensive, well-polished shoes.  They received some very odd looks from the taxi driver, and if Harvey weren’t named partner, the security guards probably would have frisked them.

Once in Soloff’s office, they started to arrange the blow-up dolls in a compromising position bent over the couch.

“I forgot the sticky tape,” Mike giggled, “This one needs to be stuck down, so it bends over, see?”

Harvey snorted, “There’s some in my top left drawer if you must position them like that!”

“Sweet,” Mike called, heading out the door only to find Jack at the end of the hallway, talking on his phone, heading straight toward his office and them.

Mike commando dived back into the office.

“Shit, he’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?”  Harvey asked confused, looking out toward the darkened hallway and hearing a quiet voice talking in the distance.  His eyes grew wide.

“Grab the stuff, get behind the couch now!” He whispered, gesturing wildly.

Mike grabbed the dolls, Harvey grabbed the bag, and they both dived over the couch, Mike landing first, and Harvey landing on top of him, just as Jack walked through the door.

“Don’t move,” Harvey mouthed, lips inches from Mike’s face.

If they moved, no doubt something would make a noise, so they are stuck in this position, Harvey’s body covering Mike’s, with two blow up dolls and a bag alongside them.

The first five minutes were fun, Harvey was trying not to laugh, and Mike could feel his body shaking with the effort.  Mike enjoyed the weight of Harvey on top of him, though he would never admit that little gem out loud.

Jack was on the phone to Hardman for ten minutes before he hung up, but instead of leaving he started to write what sounded like an essay.

Fifteen minutes in and Mike’s limbs were starting to go to sleep, so he subtly tried to move, resulting in his hips thrusting upward ever so slightly, Harvey looked amused and started making suggestive faces like Mike was purposely trying to grind against him.  He wasn’t.  Well not really.

At twenty-five minutes, Harvey had started tracing circles with his nose on Mike’s cheeks and puffing hot air onto his face.  Mike was in hell and constantly thinking of Louis mudding to stave off the twitching going on below.

At thirty-five minutes, Harvey started rutting against him on purpose.  Mike whimpered, then froze when Jack’s typing abruptly stopped, and they heard the creak of his chair as he got up.  They held their breath as footsteps made their way toward them.

Then the lamp was switched off, and the door closed behind him.  In unison, the breath whooshed out of them.  Harvey didn’t immediately move to get off.

“Didn’t think this night would involve a four-way behind a couch,” Harvey said, grinning down at him.

“If that excites you so much, I can buy you a deluxe model for your 50th,” Mike quipped, sitting up with Harvey still straddling him, refusing to move.

“Reading people is my job Rookie, you loved every minute of that,” he replied smugly, finally shifting off Mike and helping him up.

They lit another joint and Mike went to work arranging the dolls while Harvey stuck them in place.  They attached masks that were scarily realistic, added a bridal veil to the head of Jack’s doll and sprinkled confetti on the floor.

They left the office quickly, but not before capturing a picture from the doorway of Jack being taken from behind by Daniel Hardman on his wedding night.

Maybe Mike sent that picture to Donna, so a large curious crowd was standing outside Jack’s office when he arrived at work later that day.

5.  2016

It had been a long year, most of Harvey’s energy had gone into fighting for Mike.  Fighting to stop him going to prison, fighting to get him out, fighting with him full stop and finally fighting for him to become a real lawyer.  During that time Harvey had finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t just doing this to give Mike his dream, he was doing it because he had fallen in love with him.

Since day one he’d found Mike sexually attractive, Christ, the blue-eyed kid could have worn a hessian sack, and Harvey would have found him irresistible, but he never expected it to turn into a love so deep he would do or give anything to protect the man.

Tonight, he wanted, no, needed Mike back here at the firm, with them working side by side because Harvey knew that Mike was marrying Rachel and that working with Mike and being with him every day was all he was going to get.  Well, that and their traditional yearly smoking sessions, when Harvey got to pretend that they were more than just friends.  That one night a year when he got to touch Mike under the guise of being chemically altered and then woke up with a hazy mind, alone in his plush king size bed, and empty condo.

Now finally they had accomplished it, Mike was in the Bar.  A real lawyer.  Mike was stunned into silence, and even as Donna, Rachel and Jessica congratulated him, he only had eyes for Harvey.  He stared at Harvey who gave him a grin so happy, broad and beautiful; it was Oscar worthy.

Harvey reached over and slapped his shoulder, while he subtly made a smoking gesture and raised his eyebrows, non-verbal communication was their strong point after all.

Mike grinned back at him, “Later.” He mouthed.

Harvey nodded, he supposed Mike was already pretty high on life right now.

Mike was finally coming home.  They shook on it.  Well to Harvey it felt more like they had held hands, but it didn’t matter because he would see Mike, probably more than Rachel ever would.

_

Four hours later, Mike walked back into his office.  Harvey was sitting on the couch, feet up on the glass table with a tumbler of scotch in his hand, staring out the window.

“Saying goodbye to your office?”  Mike asked from the doorway.

“Thought you would still be celebrating with Rachel?”

“Nah, she had to study,”

Harvey nodded, hearing what Mike wasn’t saying, Rachel was pointing out that she still had to work hard to have Mike’s dream of being a lawyer.

“Top right drawer,” Harvey directed.

Mike grabbed the two neatly rolled joints and lighter and smiled back at Harvey, he poured himself a drink and collapsed onto the couch next to Harvey and lit up.  When they started to giggle, and Mike realised he was more affected than usual, he looked sideways at Harvey’s boyish face to question him but got distracted by how beautiful his best friend looked, and he couldn’t help lifting his hand to Harvey’s face and tracing his fingers over the smile lines lightly.

“This,” Mike said, holding up the joint, “Is not the coffee cart guy.”

“No, it isn’t, I got you special pot for our stoniversary,” Harvey laughed, “It seems to be working well don’t you think?”

“Oh God, Either I am really stoned, or you just said the word, stoniversary!”

“Come on,” Harvey said pulling Mike to his feet, “Let’s go and have the other joint in my new office.”

“What’s wrong with my new office which is your old office, just like my last new office was your old office?” Mike mumbled, not able to control the grin on his face.

Harvey stared at him squinting, too stoned to work out what the hell he was saying.

“Smoking pot in the boss’s office, I’m going places,” Mike joked, flopping down on the couch, lighting the second joint and taking a long drag.

“I might have to do some redecorating next week,” Harvey said, surveying the area and taking the joint from Mike.  He tipped his head back against the couch and blew a series of perfect smoke rings into the air.

Mike coughed out a small laugh, “Any thoughts on how you’re gonna christen this office yet?” he asked cheekily, waggling his eyebrows.

“Why Pup, are you angling for a blowjob?” Harvey joked, rolling his head to the side so that he could see Mike.

Mike should have laughed it off, but those words, that invitation, even if he was just kidding, it had his dick stirring in his boxers immediately.  Harvey watched Mike swallow, then stare at his mouth, shit the pot must be good stuff for him to be contemplating this.  Harvey’s gaze dropped to Mike’s crotch, noticing the hardened outline of his cock becoming even more pronounced under Harvey’s gaze.

“Mike?” Harvey didn’t know what he was asking, but he was asking because he didn’t know how to proceed here.

“I … Ah, it must be the pot,” he said in a small voice, gesturing to the large tent in his jeans awkwardly.

Harvey dropped to his knees in front of Mike and slowly ran his hands up his thighs.

Mike hummed, his head flopping back against the couch.

“Fuck,“ Harvey ground out, “Are you okay with this?”

Without looking down, Mike undid his belt and top button and then moved his hands away.  It was an explicit invitation to continue.  

Harvey’s heart started to pick up the pace; he was nervous.  He wanted this to be amazing for Mike.  How many years had he imagined doing just this and now he had to fight the haze the pot was giving him and try to focus.

Harvey took a deep breath and looked up at the relaxed smile on Mike’s face.  He looked sexy, his five o’clock shadow giving him a gruffer appearance.  Harvey wanted to do more than just blow him.

Harvey carefully unzipped his fly, and Mike automatically lifted his hips off the couch to help as Harvey pulled his jeans down past his knees.  Harvey groaned when he pulled Mike’s boxers down his hips, and his perfect thick cock sprung out and stood to attention millimetres from his lips.

A drop of pre-cum slipped from Mike’s slit, and without hesitation Harvey licked at it, hungry for his first taste of Mike.

“Fuck…” Mike breathed.

Without wasting another second, Harvey sunk his mouth down over the thick cock as far as he could manage and let out a moan when the silky head hit the back of his throat.

The hot, wet heat of Harvey’s mouth and the sensation of his lips sliding down his shaft surprised Mike, he choked out a broken groan, and Harvey looked up at him and grinned, his pupils blown with lust and Mike nearly came right there.  He laced his fingers into Harvey’s hair and thrust once, experimentally into his mouth.

“Ahhh, shit that’s good.”

Mike’s head thumped back against the couch, hand sliding down to the back of Harvey’s neck as he continued to lick sloppily at his cock, swirling his tongue around the head and occasionally dipping it into his slit.

Harvey’s mouth and tongue were perfect, and considering Harvey was kind of stoned it was an unbelievably good blow job.

Mike felt his balls start to tighten, and when Harvey moaned around him, he couldn’t help thrusting again, into his throat.  Harvey took it; he didn’t choke or pull back, he just cried a muffled “Mike,” and bobbed his head taking him deeper each time, swallowing around the head of his cock.

"Fuck!” Mike groaned, as he grabbed Harvey’s hair again, harder, his mouth sliding further down his shaft as he thrust forward face fucking him, slowly at first and then gathering speed when Harvey grabbed his hips, pulling him forward, encouraging him until it became hard and fast.

“Shit, Harvey! So good. Oh God!”

Harvey glanced up at Mike, his jaw was slack, and his mouth had formed an O shape, his eyes were squeezed shut.  Soft moans were falling from his lips as his dick slid in and out of Harvey’s mouth.  Harvey balls tightened, Mike looked amazing, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to do this to Mike, again and again, over and over.

“Ahhh, fuck,” he mumbled around Mike’s cock as he came untouched in his pants, hips jerking forward erratically.

Mike’s balls were tight against him, so when Harvey mumbled around his cock and his fingernails gripped into his thighs, he plunged his cock down Harvey’s hot, wet throat until Harvey’s nose was buried in his pubic hair and came hard. White lighting flashed in his eyes, and heat shot down his spine as he splattered cum down Harvey’s throat.

"Sorry,” he grunted as his hips jerked forward, realising he hadn’t given Harvey any warning.

Harvey’s face looked flushed, and his eyes are blown wide like saucers, and Mike watches in awe as he drags his lips over the head of his cock, sucking up the last drops of cum.

They look at each other then, and a lump formed in Harvey’s throat as he realises that this was too far, this wasn’t just something they could write off as a little touchy feely, this was sex.  He drops his head, words failing him.

Mike reached down then and started to run his fingertips through Harvey’s hair gently.  He continued for a minute or so before cupping Harvey’s chin and bringing his lips down to meet Harvey’s in a soft kiss.

“That was unbelievable,” he breathed against Harvey’s lips, voice filled with awe.

A fresh wave of pot hits Harvey then, and he closes his eyes and sways a little on his knees.  Mike grabs his biceps and hauls him up next to him, pulls his boxers and jeans back up and then straddles Harvey, and before he can change his mind, he starts pressing soft kisses against his lips, waiting for Harvey to get with the program and kiss him back.

When Harvey finally concedes and places the sweetest kiss back against Mike’s lips, it’s like the floodgates open.  Harvey is licking into his mouth and taking him apart with every searing kiss, his hands are up Mike’s shirt, on the globes of Mike’s ass, in his hair, roaming everywhere while he continues to take Mike’s breath away with his mouth.

They’ve been making out like life depended on it for twenty or so minutes when Mike stops and pulls away abruptly.

“Mike?” Harvey says, voice filled with concern.

Mike turned to him slowly with a solemn look on his face.

“I’m starving,” he said, and then burst out laughing.  Harvey was joining in the laughter a heartbeat later.

After cleaning themselves up, they grab a burger and fries at a local all-night café, and when they part to go home, Mike grabs Harvey’s hand and squeezes it once before he turns and walks toward the subway.  Leaving Harvey standing alone, eyes shining as he watches Mike until he is gone.

+1.  2016

When Harvey woke that morning, he had hoped it was all just a dream, an 'I got high and blew my best friend/unrequited love’, stoner dream, but even after brushing his teeth a third time he could still taste Mike Ross in his mouth.

“Come over; we need to talk.”

“I’m downstairs, be up in a minute.”

Harvey grimaced, of course he was.  The thought of Mike here to tell him they had crossed an invisible line and they needed to bury it, no more yearly tradition, it made his chest constrict, and he could feel a migraine coming on.  He could have denied it up until last night, but now it was out there, between them, there was a real part of him that wanted this guilty pleasure not just to happen once a year but forever.  Harvey could admit to himself that he wanted Mike to feel the same but realistically, he knew he was marrying Rachel and even if he weren’t would he want to spend his life with him?

Mike preened himself in the mirror while the lift climbed to the top floor, adjusting a few strands of hair that weren’t quite perfect.  Since day one, he had always wanted to look his best for Harvey; today he had put on his darkest denim jeans and his black button down shirt, showing a little bit of chest hair then rolled up the sleeves to showcase his muscled forearms.  He hoped it would throw Harvey off enough that he wouldn’t resort to denial and be skittish, coming up with explanations and evidence about why last night was a mistake.  Mike knew it wasn’t; it had been coming for five long years.

He knocked, only waiting a few seconds before Harvey opened the door, with a tight smile on his face.  Harvey turned and walked straight to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of scotch, and placed it into Mike’s hand. Mike set down the glass. “I don’t need it, Harvey, I’ve come here to say what I need to, if you don’t like it, I’ll go.” Go.  No, Harvey didn’t want that, he thought as he sunk onto the couch. “So?  What do you need to say?” Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, calling this whole thing off, it was still going to hurt.  He hoped Mike would make it as quick and pain-free as possible.  Rip the band-aid off and go so that Harvey could combust in private. “I need a week off work,” Mike requested. “What?” he responded, surprised. Whatever he thought Mike was going to say, it sure as hell wasn’t that. “Well,” Mike continued nervously, “I really enjoyed last night, um especially the errr … bit on the couch, so when my head cleared, I sat down and spoke with Rachel, and it’s over,” he affirmed, “It will take me a week to pack up all my shit and move it in here.  What do you say?” Harvey stared at him like he had lost his shit. “Are you joking?  You want to move in?  We… You… Us?” He spluttered, not quite grasping this unlikely turn of events fully. Mike laughed, the pure happy sound echoed around the condo in the way that Harvey had always wanted and imagined it would. “How are you the best closer in New York?  You can’t even form a sentence right now!” Mike chirped, his blue eyes smiling at Harvey. “You’re serious about this?” He asked, rising to his feet. “As a heart attack,” Mike replied, hand on his heart for effect. “Jesus,” Harvey laughed nervously, “You may as well marry me while you’re at it!” He joked. “Okay,” Mike responded with enthusiasm. Harvey grinned at him and moved into Mike’s space.  His hand shook as he placed it on Mike’s cheek. He leant in, so their foreheads touched. “I’m serious; you can’t do all of this,” He gestured haphazardly, “Us, move in here, everything unless it’s really what you want.  I need you to be sure.” “Yep,” Mike said, taking a step backwards, “I am sure, but you’re not giving me much assurance that you are?” “Puppy,” Harvey breathed, “No-one else could ever hold my heart like you do.” Mike smile was so big and bright, if it were possible for Harvey to love him with more than every fibre of his being, that would do it. “I have a couple of things I’d like to negotiate for this to work, though.” Mike proposed. Harvey raised his eyebrows, “YOU have conditions about moving into MY place?  Oh, this outta be good!” “Specter-Ross,” Mike blurted. “You better be talking about your surname!” “Nope, maybe not in a year, but within five.  I want my name on the door, next to yours.  I don’t care where.” “We’ll see, I’m not opposed to the idea, but you have to be seen to be worthy by your colleagues too,”  Harvey reminded him.

“I understand, you know I can do that.” He replied smugly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said fondly. “What else have you got for me?” He asked, sitting and pulling Mike down to straddle him on the couch.

“Um, Well..” Mike started, leaning out of Harvey’s persistent nips at his neck.

“What is it?”

“I want to be wooed.”

“Wooed?” Harvey repeated, the confusion evident on his face. “Yes Harvey, wooed. I know we’ve known each other a while, but I want dinner, movies and chocolates,” he confirmed, giving Harvey a 'this is non-negotiable’ stare. “Jesus, when the hell did you get your seniors card?” He jested, smirking at him. “Oh, just woo me already!”  He said, wrapping his arms tighter around Harvey’s shoulders and relaxing against him.

He was home now.                            

A week after Mike moves into the guest bedroom, he comes home and finds a basket full of extravagant chocolates and an envelope holding a card, inviting him out to dinner with a private rooftop movie screening, afterwards.

Mike would never have said he was easy, but from that night onward he no longer required the guest bedroom.

The End.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  I would like to thank my lovely beta @novemberhush for encouraging me and helping me improve.  I would also like to thank @cowandcalf @writing2reachyou @littlepinkpencil @elloras @superlock-in-the-tardis @bellemmie @nat-st1989 @paleskinnedviolet @sosauffie and @ariaportman (Probably others too.) for the support.  Whether it was encouragement, help with storyline ideas or simply just liking the fact that I was writing.  Thank You! x

[leonthesemiprofessional-blog]

Long term injury recovery guide

Injuries aren’t much of a big deal most of the time: you fall down or bump into something, it hurts for a little bit and before you know it you feel better. A typical “bad” injury lasts 2-3 weeks, 4-6 if it’s serious and 8-12 if you’re really unlucky. Sometimes, if you’re really, really unlucky, you’ll do something that keeps you immobile for far longer than expected. If you have this kind of bad karma like me, you’ll suffer from something that seemed minor at first but then be injured for more than a year (almost two in fact). Unlike professional athletes, most people don’t have a support team completely dedicated to helping them recover - with constant doctor’s check-ups, scans and physio appointments. There’s no nutrition plan to keep you healthy and crucially, there’s no mental support. Whether you’re sporty or not, long term injuries can be a real hindrance to your everyday life. That state of almost never-ending helplessness can swallow you whole and turn you into an incredibly jaundiced person. Know that there is an end to this feeling and eventually you will recover from your injury. It probably took a long time to get to the fitness level you were and it’s going to take a long time to get better. More importantly you don’t want this kind of thing to happen again. It’s not your fault you are impatient and demanding, you are just a product of today's society - being able to have anything you want in seconds, if not, 3-5 business days. UK medicine/treatment is very formulaic and sometimes your personal numbers don’t fit into its very general equation. You will get better, you just need to look at the problem from a “what works for me” vantage point. Hopefully my 6 points will help keep you positive on the very long road of recovery. They’re also applicable to typical injuries as well. Guide to long term injury: 1. Don’t B**** 2. Rest, Ice, Heat and repeat 3. Be careful about physio 4. Buy equipment to help recovery 5. Don’t jump right back into things 6. Stay mentally healthy 1. Don’t B****. No one cares (really)- Try not to bring it up with everyone you know/meet. There’s a bittersweetness to injuries, especially the big ones. For the first couple of days it’s paradise because family and friends are at your beck and call, doing all the heavy lifting - laundry, food, the lot! The power you have over your subjects is rivaled only by North Korea’s supreme leader Kim Jong-un. You will be constantly asked about your cast/bandage and you can turn it into an epic origins story, where it's a wonder you’re still alive, or just play it nonchalantly. What you have to remember is, this won't last. When talking about your injury, get to the point, what hurts and why. You’ll find that even you hate yourself for repeating the story over and over again. Even your doctor/physio is only interested in a little over the bare minimum. They have plenty more patients to see so try not to waste their time. Keep to the facts so it doesn’t sound like you’re trying to get through to the judges’ houses round on The X-factor with your over embellished sob story. When talking to your medical professional you only add more detail so they can organise the best prognosis for you- how long you've been hurt for and what currently exacerbates the pain is usually enough. Your friends and family are far less likely to want to listen to you drone on after the first couple of days and the favours/errands will stop if you get caught underplaying your capabilities - it’s been the staple midseason sitcom episode for a long time. So everyone doesn’t turn on you, try your best to be independent. Vent to the internet - writing articles like this - or find relatable Youtube videos or Reddit threads to watch/read.If you can move a little by yourself, get everything you need for the day as soon as you get up - water, medicine, snacks, hot water bottle etc. Chose you resting place and make it your rehabilitation fort. Rota your support (literally write one down for everyone to see or keep a mental one for yourself) so you avoid the eye rolls and huge sighs. Positivity breeds positivity, by showing you’re somewhat willing or capable to carry on like nothing has happened, people will be more willing to help you when they see this. They may even want your injury’s origins story again. 2. Rest, Ice, Heat and repeat Here I’m just repeating what everyone else has told you already but it should be your dogma, your religion until you feel 100% again. Keep the injured area elevated and treat with ice and heat accordingly. These processes regulate circulation to the injured area and speed up the natural healing process - a physiology hack if you will. Neoprene or tubular bandages may or may not help but they look pretty badass. The take home message is rest and keep resting for as long as you can. When you become more functional but still feel niggles, you still have to prioritise full recovery. This becomes a lot more difficult when people can't see a physical indicator of your injury but you have to remember - they’re not in pain, you are. You don’t have to go to that social event. You don't have to do that thing your boss/ parents/ friends told you to (try not to get fired please, just find a way around what they want, or get help). You’re going to have up days and down days on the road to recovery and sometimes your body just isn't going to be with it, so listen to it, please. No doubt it’s boring af just staying at home “resting” but try to exercise your brain with a new language or something else intellectual. Start listening to podcasts, order a new game or get into all that TV everyone is talking about. Group chats about what happened after a night out are usually juicier than the event themselves. Live vicariously through them. Sub point- Eat healthy! It’s very easy to balloon because of the lack of physical activity. Try and change the way you eat, with smaller portions at big meals and making your snacks fruits and vegetables. Popcorn is a good “in between good and bad food” to have if you can’t stomach all the greens. So you don’t have to move preparing your own meals, get your family or whoever you live with to make extra portions of their food. If they don’t eat as… consciously as you, again, you could just have smaller portions of what they prepare. Choosing the healthier options though gives you a nutrient boost, certain to speed up recovery. Spinach, for example, enriches your blood with folate and more than ten other useful nutrients that can help your recovery. Having nutrient rich blood will help detoxify your body (making you less whiny as well) and relieve inflammation. Doing this will help you move onto physiotherapy. 3. Be careful with physio: The Physical Therapy Tightrope It is imperative that you see someone about even the smallest of niggle because there could be larger underlying problems that are nowhere near the initial pain. If it ends up being nothing then you can put your mind to rest and just carry out step 2. Sometimes however, you feel like you would be just bothering the medical professionals or you can’t find the time to go and see one so you just get on with the physio because you “know what you’re doing”. If you and your body feel competent enough, you can undergo some light stretches and range of motion exercises. There is ample help online for even the most unique of injury. I found it useful to write down or read/repeat aloud the instructions and why I had to do them. This way, nothing went over my head and I comprehensively understood every stretch or exercise. If you’re very sporty and it’s a long term injury, your new set of exercises always feel like they aren't very effective and you lose interest quickly, especially if you’re doing the exercises on your own (and you don’t have the help of that professional recovery team). For me, writing down why you’re doing the exercises and reading it aloud also reminded me of the end goal. Doing this will keep you going when it all seems pointless and they might as well cut off what's hurting. Keeping a calendar to track the process is also a helpful option. Writing down variations of the exercise/stretch is helpful too. You will probably need to increase/decrease the intensity of the physio from time to time because how your body feels will change day to day. When you're injured, pushing that little harder is never worth it. You’ll just end up at square one again and no one is gonna pass you the remote anymore. 4. Buy equipment to help recovery - Some toys to play with Recovery equipment is becoming a lot more financially viable for everyone to own and add to their physio routine. It’s not quite reached the level of a cryogenic machine in your home but what is available is very useful. Hopefully you’ve seen a physio, and they’ve given you that big rubber band that helps you ease into your exercises. On top of that, a basic DIY recovery set, in my opinion, should have: a massage stick (£5-£35), a foam roller (£12-£200), lacrosse balls (£3-£20), floss bands or support sleeves/bandages (£5-£30). With one, or all of these tools you can regulate circulation and relax tight muscles - myofascial release (love that phrase). Alternatively you can just use items around your house: a tennis ball (slightly softer than a lacrosse ball), a rolling pin (much less forgiving than a massage stick) and a towel (if your physio never gave you the giant rubber band). If you had to buy just one tool, a foam roller is the best value for money. Nothing around your home can do the same thing and it works all parts of your body. In an ideal world you would have a physiotherapist, sports masseuse and acupuncture specialist come to your house everyday to relax your muscles and joints. I feel like if that were the case, you wouldn’t be reading this. The closest thing you can equate to that kind of physical therapy service is a long foam-rolling session, several times a week. If you can afford a vibrating roller, get one! Again, you can write down how and why you use the equipment and what the end goal of using the equipment is too. When you first start rolling out, work on muscle groups around the injury as rolling directly onto the injury could increase inflammation and muscle tension, the exact opposite of what you want (I found out the hard way). There’s going to be pain but it should be manageable (kind of like the buildup of lactic acid you miss so dearly). Warming up the sore muscles and their surrounding areas with a heat pack or hot water bottle before you start can improve your results also. 5. Don’t jump right back into things Even when you're confident you're ready to get back into things, or the doctor has given you the all clear, have a week or two of transition i.e. strength and conditioning exercises. Do exercises that work on where the injury was and its surrounding areas. I’m not your doctor so you don’t have to listen to me but I have had a long list of past injuries and have a degree biomedical science so I feel this is important. One of the best ways to avoid recurring pain or injuries is to “max out” your physio plan. Add or double the bands you use and add weights to your regime. Not only will this help stop a relapse but you’ll also find other muscles and joints don’t get hurt as they try and recalibrate. Best example, when a sports team’s star player is back from an injury but the manager won’t start them for the next pivotal game. The manager has the player’s overall health in mind and knows a little more rest will be beneficial in the long run. If you continue strength and conditioning when you're healthy, you’ll find subtle things in your performance will improve. It would be a good idea to invest in some “speed bands” and add strength and conditioning into your general workout plans to prevent injuries too. 6. Stay mentally healthy. The most important The most important and hardest to do. No other way about it, long term injuries suck, especially when you were meant to be better a long time ago. You have no one to sue because you injured yourself, your sympathy card was revoked a long time ago and you’ve put on some serious weight because you’ve been “resting” forever. Every time you try to do any sort of physio or recovery exercise it just hurts more and you’ve spent a lot of time and money seeing medical professionals with little to no improvement (and you’re broke). Remember there’s always time to get back into things. We are constantly moving in today’s world, so appreciate the slowdown in time when you physically can’t do anything. Acknowledge what you do have and think about those who don’t have what you do. Thinking so existentially isn’t needed but it really helps. From a more selfish point of view, find some informative Youtube videos, listen to the music you used to work out to or watch that thing that gets you pumped - that induced endorphin and adrenaline boost is pretty cool and you can keep telling yourself you’re going to get better. Other things that helped me were acupuncture and yoga and writing all my plans down - including putting on ice packs, heat packs and rolling. This helped me stick to a personal formula but you can essentially pick and choose from anything on the list. They are all supplements to keeping you mentally strong. Good luck.