#walk around and ply it and smoke some weed

[milkweedman]

Made a ply ball to make this plying less annoying. I still have fiber left to spin, but I've decided to get started on plying anyway.

This is the suffolk/hampshire blend I've been working on, on and off, for the last couple months.

Nearly there.

Also, some snowdrops for your trouble.

[toiletwipes]

hoppípolla; part one

college!dream x afab reader but they pronouns

nervous college student you, smoked weed with dream one night and you couldn't ever forget it. starting a crush you knew would be the death of you. and at the moment, you had a terrible way of dealing with things. and things just kept happening, one thing after another.

a little author's note: i'm splitting it into parts because i like the attention and also because it feels right

2.37k words

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he literally couldn't get any hotter.

you sit at a mini-bar, crossing your leg over the other, sipping at your sprite. there was he was, in all of his fucking glory, was dream. your classmate in your english course and the one person at this party who you knew, for an absolute fact, smoked weed. and although he wasn't smoking right now, the beer in his hand said that he probably wasn't going to be, tonight.

oh you knew, this was a college dorm party, and people tried all sorts of party drugs, and weed was the tip of the iceberg. no, you knew that.

but no one was also that hot.

well.

maybe they were but they just weren't dream, not a stoner, not someone who had damn good genetics, and someone who knew how to roll a joint perfectly. not to mention, his best friend sapnap? also your best friend.

he's the one who introduced you two, despite having shared english for the past year. and he's the one who brought you and dream to the party.

(yeah, you sat in the back, pulling at the cords of your hoodie, watching the sides of his face move with quiet notions, talking to sapnap as he drove and playing soft music to match the rain.)

thinking even more, you wanted to just get up and go outside, just the urge to smoke something and anything, something to fill your lungs as your mind numbs just even the tiniest bit.

you sigh, taking one more sip of your drink before leaving it at the mini-bar, slipping your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and sliding out a cigarette out of its carton. taking a step outside, you sigh in relief seeing the dry porch. several others sat in a circle, passing around a beer and two decent blunts. sometimes sharing a kiss, sometimes the smoke between their lips.

what you would give to do that with dream, you bemoaned silently, as you lit your own cigarette, inhaling the bitter nicotine as you enjoyed the patters of the rain.

wiping your hand down on a bench, and seeing as it wasn't as wet as you thought it would be, you take a seat and take another long drag.

"so, what did he say?"

a girl with a bright green mullet and the sides of her head dyed pink, and several piercings in an non-existent eyebrow, she stares at you expectantly. as if you had an answer.

"don't know. haven't really talked to him." you shrug, trying not to think about any of your past conversations with him. all dull, all about school, all about homework. there would be no reason for him to agree to anything dealing with you in any romantic sense. or sexually, if you even dared.

"you know what that means right?" you look at her with a pinched expression. "it means you start talking to him, then ask him to blow your back out, or whatever it is you want" you almost choke on the smoke coming out of you but you mostly laugh it off.

"yeah like he'd want to talk to me," you muse, finding the stranger oddly comforting as she came over to sit next to you.

"well you don't know that, do you?" you had to give her that. you didn't know. but it wouldn't take a genius to guess the right answer. "does he smoke?" she asks, turning to you and feeling like there's nothing really stopping you from becoming besties, you pass your cigarette to her.

"i know he smokes weed but nothing else as far as i'm aware." you lean forward onto your knees, pressing your chin into your palms. "but honestly, i don't know him that much to begin with, so like, what's the point?"

the mullet hands it back to you after a pondering puff, and when you take a drag, she answers. "well, the way i see it, you can ask him out or you hookup tonight, or try to move on if you're serious about him." she pats your knees, moving to stand as she stretched. "but really, i hope it goes well, and if you need anything," she flicks out a card and watches you take it with disregarding eyes, "give me a call." and without as so much another word, she's leaving in a Beetle with her circle of friends.

glancing at it, it's a card to the floral shop but with a name on it. pocketing it and then snuffing out the bud, you leave it dead on the porch, hoping to find sapnap and beg him to take you home.

you appreciated the nice girl for the conversation and maybe the start of a healthy friendship, but even just being with someone other than dream made your heart twist in your chest.

you didn't have time to search for your best friend as he clung to dream, who was dragging his ass close to the door, where you stood now.

and when you finally appeared in his vision, you see relief and a smile sink into his face. you don't know why but you push down a smile as he approaches you with long strides. but what happens next is downright hilarious.

"we have to go right now, sap just puked all over minx and she's this close to blowing this house up," his nose wrinkles with his smile, you notice, but you nod without much thought.

"need me to drive?" you offer, though, you hates nothing more than exactly that.

"please, i've had a few beers and i don't want to risk driving tipsy," he says and you want to just cry.

you nod as you hold your hand up for the keys, and upon them being dropped in the center, you swallow down the dryest, biggest lump in your throat.

hearing several honks behind you, you don't even move above the speed limit in the neighborhood, which was five. it was fucking raining and you happened to have the biggest crush in existence on the person sitting in the passenger seat.

"i know you're driving right now, but have you heard of this song?"

the first ten seconds are tense, piano notes building up to a release after the next twenty with a guitar and drums in the back.

you recognized it easily, finding it comforting. you smile as you glance behind your shoulder and flick your turn signal on. "it's called hoppípolla, isn't it? from that one movie with the cursed girl?" he laughs and your heart clenches, wanting to hear it more.

"yeah, i just wanted to see if you'd recognize it, i've shown it to like, ten people and only a few knew it." you knew it was silly to be proud to know it but you couldn't help it. you felt easy, easy to ply with.

"yeah, well, i do have an eccentric movie taste," you smile as you turn onto the next street over, finding sapnap's house immediately. originally his parents, but they were gone for a small vacation while it was the summer.

putting the car in park, you let out a breath, just happy to be done with driving for the moment. "you okay?" you jump in your seat, finding dream already out of the car with sapnap in his arms.

the man in question babbled with incoherent words, but you paid him no mind.

"um, yeah, i uh, i just- just hate driving," you grimace as you pull yourself out of the car, getting hit with the constant pelting rain.

he frowns, of all things, walking to the porch as you beat him there already, unlocking the door.

he lays sapnap down on the couch as you make your way to the kitchen, helping yourself to the gourmet chocolate cake left there by his parents' anniversary.

tasting as sweet as you thought it would be, but somehow so fucking bitter at the same time. maybe it's the way you want to cry but how lame would that be? found in your best friend's house crying as you ate their cake?

not cool.

wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, you pick yourself up and sit on the counter, desperate to change how your feeling. your skirt riding up your thighs, almost hiding in your oversized hoodie, not that you noticed.

and as if he could read your fucking mind, he walks in as he's ruffling his head of hair, as if he just got out of the shower. catching you on the counter, you had half a mind to stop eating cake and get down but you just didn't care at this point.

"want some?" you offered, sliding the platter of cake towards him while you tried to hide the fact that your face was blotchy and your nose couldn't stop sniffling. you hated the way pity looked in people. but when you turned to give dream a spoon, you saw nothing but a man with flushed cheeks and darting eyes. "are- are you good, dream?" you ask, almost disbelieving that this man is anything but flustered.

"you just, uh, well. i- i don't know how to say this but." he covers his mouth and face with one hand as he points to your lap. raising an eyebrow, you turn your head down to see the little, cyan bow on the front of your grey panties.

"oh fuck-" you dropped your fork as you yanked your skirt down and hopped from the counter, barely meeting his shoulders as you went to move away from him.

tears dropped from your eyes faster as you went to leave, when dream's arm shoots out to stop you, grabbing you by the arm as he protests you leaving.

"okay, it's bad but you can stay, um, let's just finish the cake and go to bed." you really didn't want to, dream seeing your underwear while you ate cake was forcibly checked off your bucket list.

turning around, you wanted to shrink and then be crushed like a bug underneath dream's shoe, but you settled for picking up your spoon and shoveling a bit of cake in your mouth until you couldn't think about anything else.

you flashed your crush, and he asked you to stay to eat cake. cake, of all things, you mourned.

wished somebody eat you out, you weep in your head, and come to your horror, dream starts choking on cake, coughing loudly as he punched his chest.

"i have a feeling i said something out loud." you feel humiliated as you just let the fork fall from your fingers, walking out of the kitchen, not hearing the man disagree and then as you're about to just pull your shoes on and leave, dream comes out of the kitchen and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"listen, uhh, i don't want to freak you out, but a few weeks ago, when- when we went to that party with george, he may or may not have said that you had, uh, that you have a crush on me and- is- is that right?" his words fell out of his mouth faster than he could trip over his feet. "do you like me like that?"

you wanted to melt into the ground.

"can i just go?" you whimpered out, turning your head as you tried to pull his hands off your shoulder.

"please answer the question," he begs, moving his hands from your shoulders to your cheeks, cradling it as he got closer. "because i cannot stop thinking about you, and every time we're alone, you always leave as soon as possible but then you looked so hot on the counter-" he breaks off, moaning under your stare as you listen with wide eyes.

"please say you feel the same," he begged pulling your face close to his as you gripped his arms.

"and what would you do if i did?" you whispered, eyes closing as you tried to hold onto your beating heart. his breath fanned over your lips, and all you could think about was him, him, him.

"anything you'd let me do," he says and you let out a broken moan when your two lips met, slotting against each other as if they were always meant for this. he moves his hands from your face to your shoulders and down as he moved to your waist. you grabbed a handful of his hair, the other holding the side of his face, and he moves his mouth from yours and licks a stripe down your chin to your neck.

"do you remember the day we first met," he murmured against your skin as you panted. "you were shivering while we waited for the professor, and you asked if you could borrow my jacket." it does ring a bell but you're not thinking too hard when he starts biting into your neck.

"and when you keep showing up, wearing my jacket, and that pretty, short skirt," he reaches up with one hand to hold onto your neck as he sucks a hickey right into your skin, painting as much as he could with such a pliable canvas as your skin.

"the things you do to me," he lets out a moan so broken, you wondered how he could be this affected by you and you not noticing for so long.

"we have all night, we can-" you let out a whine as he sucks hard into that sweet spot, "we can try to do it, everything, everything you and i want."

reaching down, he slipped his hands underneath your ass, picking you up with ease as he moved towards the guest bedroom. "i hope you're not planning on walking anywhere tomorrow," he pants in your ear, leaning you against the door as he uses the one hand to open it. kicking it behind him, he lays you on the bed, pushing up his hoodie to mouth kisses onto your stomach.

"as long as you'll have me," you spoke with need, your voice breaking just as much as his. and he nods hard, before he moves back over you to kiss your lips.

"you ready?"

[thefloatingstone]

Guys I’m gonna share a facebook post my mom saw but I’m gonna have to translate it into english so sorry if this isn’t as funny as it should be.

Also note how much advice you take from this. I just wanted to share the remarkable writing talent;

But by thunder! Will ya’ll relax a little?! Relax the tits. Hakuna your tatas. Unknot the asshole muscles. Because if I have to hear “Corona Virus” one more time I’m gonna literally stab somebody in the throat with a cactus. Come gather around your uncle so that I I can tell all of you nicely;

1: Those little face-masks that you’re buying and walking around wearing in Menlyn Park [an upscale mall] means nothing. The Corona Virus is not airborne. That means he can’t fly. He doesn’t have little wings, he doesn’t have a little helicopter, he doesn’t have a little parachute. Nothing. So unless Corona starts drinking Red Bull to get wings that little mask means nothing to you. Don’t waste your money, Don’t walk around Menlyn imagining you’re Darth Vader. The security will probably mark you as a terrorist and kick you out.

2: If you pay close attention you’ll realise that the smart doctors with their egg heads are telling you to wash your hands. Really? Is hand washing really a new concept to people? Just think for a moment everywhere other people’s hands have been today... Think a little where your own hands have been today. (yuck! I can’t believe you’re stuffing your hands in that!?) And now you want to touch other people’s hands and now-now eat KFC and licking your fingers? And then tomorrow you write another furious letter because so-and-so’s KFC half killed you, but actually it’s because you’re not washing your hands! If there is ONE reason to wash your hands, it’s the fact that there are people out there who use 1-ply toilet paper. Do you know how easily 1-ply paper rips? And then that same person wants to shake your hand. Ew. Don’t take that money. If you think “Boob Money” is the worst then I’ve got some bad news for you. You need to wash your hands for at least 30 seconds. With proper soap. The whole time. Because germs sit on EVERYTHING. If you don’t know how long 30 seconds is, just sing ‘Never gonna give you up’s chorus twice. Or to be on the safe side, sing the whole of Bohemian Rhapsody.

3: Toiler Paper? Really? The Australians are anxiety stricken and are coming to blows over toiler paper? Unless you cough through your asshole there is no reason to get a panic attack over toilet paper. Or is this because every single time somebody coughs everyone else shits themselves?

4: Speaking of coughing. “Put your hand to your mouth said the cat to the dog�� (an idiom that doesn’t translate well). It’s not that difficult a concept. DO I need to draw you a diagram? And to be even more cautious, hold your elbow to your gob if you cough or sneeze. There is nothing worse than standing in the supermarket’s queue and this one behind you sneeze and it feels like you’re strolling through a light coastal rain. If you’ve got a light cough, and you’re scared they’ll quarantine you, drink two tablespoons of castor oil. You’ll be too scared to cough. Just as good as quarantine.

5: Stop touching other people. Don’t shake hands. If you meet somebody, bow before them. This was good enough for hundreds of years for royalty, why isn’t it good enough for you? Don’t kiss or hug people. If you think people’s hands are dirty I don’t even want to begin to tell you where people’s mouths have been... (not that this is a problem for anyone married for longer than 5 years)

6: Don’t be ugly to everyone with slanted eyes. You’re not gonna collapse down dead if you walk past someone of Asian descent, nor if they look at you. You’re not gonna catch Corona if you eat Beef Show Mein.

7: Stop renting your ears out to the media and Social media. If somebody posts “We’re all gonna die!” just block them. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life. Yes Karen. We’re all going to die. But not from the Corona Virus. You live in South Africa. There Corona Virus is relatively low on the list of things that want to kill you these days; Taxis. Malema. [the fascist party that’s getting more traction lately and is extremely violent towards anyone who isn’t black] Tap Water. Malaria. Oscar Pistorius And your wife are all higher on the list.

8: Drink a lot of alcohol or smoke weed. This won’t kill the virus, but at least you’ll stress less about things you don’t have control over. (Just don’t confuse your hangover the next day with Corona symptoms)

9: Can we please do a bit of a reality check? Will everyone who has died from SARS, Ebola, Polony, Swine Flu, Bird Flu or the Y2K Bug put their hands up, please. Look around you. Nobody. See?! The Corona is nothing more than a glorified flu. If you hear somebody you know has Corona, then go give them a visit and give them a big ol’ kiss then you can get infected, get over it and move on. You’re gonna cough a little for a week and then it’s over with. For Pete’s sake. (and by the way if you’ve got kids then your ticket is pretty much already punched).

Can we please all get on with our lives without being hysterical? Please and thank you.

©Riaan Palmer

(forewarning because apparently some people struggle to recognise sarcasm and parody; if you have a weak immune system be careful and paranoid!)

[adventuresineurope2017]

RECOLLECTIONS of HUNGARY

Our bus trip to Zagreb from Plitvice was definitely the 'local ' experience Tony had been hanging out for. Not only did we stop frequently to pick up local scout groups, wandering minstrels etc, but the driver engaged in a full on conversation with a man sitting in the 1st seat behind him. This entailed turning his head to conduct his conversation which resulted in our bus meandering all over the road regardless of oncoming traffic. The bus schedule had allocated 2 1/2 hours for a 135km distance but we were feeling seriously doubtful that we would arrive on time or at all.

At one of the villages a  old man boarded the bus and  he was 89 years old, had been an Olympian pentathlon athlete and had participated in the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne. He spoke 7 languages and his English, while rusty, was adequate for us. He displayed such pride in his country and we got a run down of all the major landmarks en route to Zagreb-better than any booked tour.

Miraculously we arrived on time and after discovering where to catch our next bus we continued on to Hungary and Budapest. Our introduction to Hungary was less than welcoming: we stopped for a break shortly after our border crossing and after a couple of hours we needed it. The asking price to use the loo was 400 kuna- about $2. Unprepared, we had no local currency, and no euro note small enough for their change machine. Big queues at checkout too so we just had to cross our legs and wait to get back on the bus. The closed door lost its handle in the pitch dark.  But (wee) overcame 🤣.

Public transport in a foreign country can be very daunting, especially with no internet and few English instructions. First we tried Uber-none in Budapest. Then we thought of a tram but couldn't but couldn't work our where to catch one, let alone which. In the end we decided on a train. We bought a ticket and got some garbled instructions on where to go and with little confidence boarded our first train. We found generally that people gave very vague instructions, leaving us frustrated and confused, but we gradually found our bearings.

Budapest is a city guaranteed to dwarf you.  Every building towers over you and all the statues are massive. It is very ostentatious and almost oppressive, however there are many places of beauty and magnificence. Our first treat was the national gallery, where paintings of 5 x 3 metres were displayed. (Nicky) I'm not usually an art fan but these paintings, dated back centuries were amazing. 

We also visited the Jewish synagogue and holocaust memorial. There were 600000 Hungarian Jews killed at Auschwitz during the Second World War and many were later exhumed and returned to Budapest, where they were placed to rest in a cemetery at the synagogue.  It was a sobering experience.  We managed to tick off most of the "10 best things to do in Budapest" - visiting parliament, the chain bridge, St. Stephens basilica (where we even went to mass), and a trip on the Danube.  The first day we walked everywhere and were exhausted so next day we purchased a "hop-on, hop-off bus" ticket. This experience was not as easy as it seemed. Red buses, pink buses, blue buses, yellow buses and variations with and without giraffe heads, all ply their trade around the city forming a spaghetti like tangle of intermingled routes, some of which were included in our "package" and some not. Tony had a sense of humour failure of epic proportions and Nicky floated on and off buses with gay abandon, trying to placate the grumblebum. All this in 35 degree heat might I add.  We did however, manage an included night tour of the city and a bowl of free goulash soup.

Hundreds of young people gather here every day, drinking, smoking and hanging out with their feet in the water.

This is a replica of the parliament building made from marzipan!

We "I'm making a gourmet breakfast" said Nicky. My anticipation grew as she piled muesli, yoghurt, banana, cream (bought from a Hungarian shop owner as "full cream milk"), topped off with a liberal sprinkling of sugar. It was only when we started tucking in that we discovered to our dismay that the white granules in the green packet were actually salt! Thanks Nicky!

Our breakfast provided a metaphor for our "charming, newly renovated flat...in the most gorgeous part of Budapest...with a terrace for a lovely breakfast or for smoking." More aptly phrased "derelict building still under reconstruction with rudimentary facilities overlooking decaying brick walls in a seedy Budapest back street".  I can report that the breakfast was better than the terrace! The latter being a 4x4m patch of dirty, weed infested concrete surrounded by high stone/cement walls you couldn't possibly see over. Oh... and a rusty pipe that might have served as a washing line a couple of centuries ago. The bedroom, fitted with heavy burglar bars, looked out on the "terrace". Late on our second day there Nicky discovered that were unsecured to the wall, and easily swung out to provide easy access to our worldly possessions, not to mention us!

The night we arrived we piled a few days of dirty laundry into the provided washing machine, sans soap dispenser, which sprayed water as the cycle started. McGyver-style, I managed to stem the flow with a cover made from a plastic egg tray and sat back contented as the machine churned away. It was Nicky again who discovered a while later that the kitchen floor was inches deep in water, courtesy of a leaking inlet tap in the sink cupboard! It was at this point that we began to feel a little disgruntled, and duly passed our thoughts on to our charming host, holidaying as he was in far-off Sardinia.

We bore the incident stoically. However, our Airbnb review of the place did not mince words!

On our last evening there we attended a concert in St Stephens basilica -  a string quartet playing pieces by Bach, Mozart, Vivaldi, etc.  It was a wonderful experience in this huge, centuries old cathedral.

It must be mentioned that while waiting for the performance in the nearby piazza, we happened across a fair dunkum italian restaurant, where Tony was persuaded to try an affegato- basically a shot of espresso topped with vanilla ice cream and served with a spoon. The rich aroma filled coffee oozes up around the ice cream and provides an ice coffee second to none. He had two in succession.

[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

[life-in-every-limb]

My first trip to San Francisco was also my first plane ride and my first time away from my family.  It was 1981 and I had just graduated from St. Joseph Elementary School.  My godfather had business in California and invited me along to keep his 12-year-old daughter–who was more like a cousin to me–company.

Almost 40 years have gone by but I still remember parts of that trip with clarity–eating shrimp cocktail at Fisherman’s Wharf, attending my first baseball game (that went to 14 innings!) at Candlestick Park, dinner in Chinatown (my first Chinese food!), the cold and the fog for which we were totally unprepared . . . I truly left a bit of my heart in San Francisco and longed for years to return.

Then in July 2017 a piece of my heart left for San Francisco, giving me a suitable motivation for traveling there.  We visited Teddy in February 2018 and 2019 (on his birthday, which has conveniently fallen during the three-day President’s Day weekend) and will be returning next month.  I love San Francisco even more now than I did then, and I’ve taken many pictures that I want to share.

Originally this was going to be one big post, but then I saw I had nearly 100 pictures from our 2018 visit.  So let’s just start with that one, shall we?

THURSDAY

One cannot fly direct from Knoxville to San Francisco, so it took us all day; we arrived after dark and took a cab straight to our hotel.  After meeting Teddy for a late dinner (very nice Greek restaurant, his treat), we explored a little before bed, and took the pictures below.

Both of those are shots of the Ferry Building.  Before bridges crossed the Bay, ferries were the only transportation and the Ferry Building was a busy place.  Nowadays it’s mostly retail space after a period of desertion and disrepair.

The Embarcadero used to be a raised freeway.  San Francisco redefined progress by removing it and reconnecting the Financial District to the waterfront.

Of course we had to walk down to the water and get a picture of the Bay Bridge.

FRIDAY

I got up bright and early Friday morning to do a little exploring.  We stayed in this hotel in the heart of the Financial District, because it was close to where Teddy worked at the time.

I was so excited that I just kept on walking until I found myself in Chinatown.

And while there I happened upon a parade celebrating the Chinese New Year! It was a complete surprise to me!

There is a Catholic church in Chinatown.  It’s staffed by the Paulist Fathers, just like my own parish church.  Now called Old Saint Mary’s, it used to be the San Francisco Cathedral.  I took lots of pictures:

I was on a roll by now.  I wanted to see if I could climb to the very top of the hill I was on, so I did.

Pictures don’t really do justice to the hills.  That last one, with a view of Alcatraz, comes closest.  I am not exaggerating when I say that I was scared to walk back down and was grateful that some of the sidewalks actually have steps cut into them.

I decided to walk back another way and here are a few of the sights I saw:

Above are two views of Saints Peter and Paul Catholic Church.  Below is St. Francis of Assisi, the first parish church in San Francisco.

Below is a cool view of the Transamerica Pyramid (which was how I found my way back to the hotel–you can see it from everywhere) juxtaposed with Columbus Tower aka the Sentinel Building, owned by Francis Ford Coppola.

Later in the day John and I walked along the Embarcadero down to the Fisherman’s Wharf area, where we met Teddy for dinner at Scoma’s, an amazing seafood restaurant on the water.  Here are the pictures I took that evening:

SATURDAY

I headed out first thing in the morning (while John slept in) to the big outdoor Farmer’s Market at the aforementioned Ferry Building.  In addition to food, many artisans ply their wares on the street leading to the market, so I purchased souvenirs to take home.

I snapped the above photo behind the Ferry Building during the Market.  I cannot now recall why this statue stands there, but I like it nonetheless!

Below is my photo of a poem that brings tears to my eyes when I read it, describing the destruction of the elevated freeway that formerly divided the city from the waterfront.

I returned to the hotel and John and I took an Uber (this was the trip where we learned all about Uber!) to Teddy’s house, which he was sharing with four other young men.  After he showed us around, we went out to explore the neighborhood(the Marina District).  I took the following pictures at what Teddy called his favorite place, the Palace of Fine Arts.  Note the random person in the picture below to understand the scale.  It is an amazing sight.

After lunch at a neighborhood pizza place, we took another Uber to Golden Gate Park.  We did not have any idea how big it is or what we would do there.  It’s definitely somewhere I want to revisit, specifically to see the Japanese Tea House, which was closed when we were there.

We thought it would be fun to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, so we got an Uber across.  After taking a few pictures, though, we realized that we had just missed–by seconds–the deadline to get onto the bridge before security locked it for the night.

After this disappointment we decided that since we were already across the bridge we would Uber to Sausalito for dinner.  We found a nice little Tuscan restaurant, then headed back to the city for ice cream at Ghirardelli Square.

SUNDAY

Sunday morning I thought it would be fun to drink my coffee on the roof of the hotel.  Which it was until some guy came up there and started smoking weed.  At like 9 a.m.  Smoking marijuana is legal in SF, but not out in the open.  But everyone does, and the smell is EVERYWHERE.

We went to Mass at the church I showed you above.  Father Tom Tavella is the pastor.  He was formerly at our parish, and in fact baptized Teddy, so that was a cool reunion, and his homily was just as good as I expected from past experience.

We wanted to have lunch in Chinatown, and Father Tavella suggested a place nearby.

After lunch we did a little sightseeing and shopping.

I then wanted to re-attempt to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge.  John wanted to go back to the hotel and have a rest.  So we agreed to meet for dinner, and Teddy and I took another Uber to the far side of the bridge.

This is the only picture I snapped while on the bridge.  It was so windy that I was frankly afraid to take my phone out.  It was a little scary honestly but I am glad to have done it.  I would like to do it again on the opposite side some time.

After the bridge we just kept walking.

Past the National Cemetery.

All around the Presidio.

By this statue of Phineas Farnsworth.  And around Fort Mason.  And back to Teddy’s house in the Marina District.  And to the gym so he could work out for a few minutes.  In short (it was not short) we walked all the way back to the hotel.  I was not going to be the one to stop! By the end of the day I had walked 12 miles.  After we finished dinner (we ate at the very nice restaurant attached to our hotel), I had a difficult time getting out of the booth and up to the room!  Teddy and John went to a movie but I was happy to rest.

MONDAY

We checked out of our hotel Monday morning (leaving our bags in storage) and hopped on a double-decker tour bus for one of those two-hour tourist trips around the city.  That was when I snapped the above picture.  Later we met back up with Teddy and went shopping for ingredients so I could bake him a red velvet cake for his birthday (a bit difficult as the kitchen was not fully equipped for baking, but it still turned out okay).

Then it was time for good-byes, a trip to the airport, and the red-eye flight back home.  We managed to have fun until the end with this cool exhibit at the airport:

And that’s the end . . . but I will post the pictures of our 2019 trip in a few days.

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