Characters/Pairings: Mike, Harvey
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Word Count: 800
Summary: Mike rubs his eyes and coughs, as he has been doing all day long.
A/N: Written to make tunes84 oh so happy. I WASN'T EVEN GOING TO LIKE THIS SHOW, DANGIT.
Disclaimer: I do not own Suits or the characters.
It's nearly midnight at Pearson-Hardman and the building's fluorescent lights are all off, leaving just the
rectangular lamps along the window to illuminate the space where he and his associate sit poring over the boxes and boxes of files from their most recent case.
Outside the city lights sparkle between banks of clouds which curl around the skyscraper towers. Snow swirls in a languid dance past the windows. Harvey's record player oozes mournful notes, the throaty voice of a man, very quietly.
Mike rubs his eyes and coughs, as he has been doing all day long. His jacket has been discarded across the
arm of the couch where he sits and his shirtsleeves are unbuttoned, rolled up to his elbows despite the chill emanating from the glass.
The knot of his tie hangs loosely between his collar bones, his shirt buttons undone down to the fourth one. He rubs his eyes again, staring at the files spread out before him. It doesn't seem to help.
Across the room, Harvey glances up without moving his head.
The look is very brief, but still he sees the glisten of sweat at Mike's hairline. He sees the dark hollows beneath his eyes.
He is looking at the papers on his desk when Mike grimaces and rubs his hands over his face. “I'm gonna go get some coffee. You want some?” he rasps.
Harvey's eyes flick up, but he doesn't respond until they're back down again. “Sure.”
Mike nods and pushes to his feet. He shuffles out of the office, tugging at his collar.
Thirty seconds after the door closes behind him, Harvey glances up. Seeing the empty hall outside, he stands, gathering his files and moves swiftly to the couch.
Mike returns over five minutes later, carrying two mugs of coffee. He pushes the door open with his hip, one arm lifted to curl around toward his ear because he's trying not to cough. As a result he's letting out soft, sharp little breaths. He starts toward Harvey's desk and doesn't realize until he's halfway there that the man isn't there anymore. Slowing to a stop and still half-coughing into his arm he hacks out, “Har—vey?”
Harvey sighs and looks up. “Kid.”
Mike gasps and spins on his heel and that's all it takes. He starts coughing in earnest, coffee splashing out over his hands. This barely gets a reaction out of him and he sets both mugs down on the table with sharp clinks of ceramic against glass and then he bends over coughing like he's trying to bring his lungs up.
“Jesus—“ Harvey mutters and stands, dragging Mike around the table by the belt around his waist. He pulls him down onto the couch beside him and orders, “Breathe!”
It takes him a moment, but Mike finally breathes, coughs, breathes, and then coughs a little bit more until the coughs taper off into ragged breaths. “Sorry,” he says and sounds even coarser than before.
“You're an idiot,” Harvey tells him, the corners of his mouth pulling down sharply. He picks up one of the coffee mugs and holds it in front of
his associate. “Take a sip.”
Mike gingerly does as he's told, wincing as the liquid goes down. In the meantime, Harvey moves back to the far end of the couch. Mike sets the mug down on the table again and Harvey points to the seat of the couch next to his thigh. “Lie down.”
Mike looks at him, his eyes half-lidded and his face pale, but for the flush across his cheekbones and ears. “I'm fine, Harvey. I just got something caught in my—“
For another second Mike stares at him. Then he sighs, pulls at his tie again and slowly lowers himself onto his side, till his hair is just brushing the fabric of Harvey's pants. He curls up, shivering slightly. “'ll be ready for more in thirty, I jus' need to take a nap,” he mumbles.
Harvey looks down at him, his expression contemptuous. “If you try to sit up in the next hour, I'll pin your ass down with one of these file boxes.”
Mike's breathing is slowing, coming from between parted lips. The dark blotches beneath his eyes look even darker the way the shadows are thrown onto his face. He's silent and Harvey looks down again, the lines on his face softening. “Dumb kid,” he murmurs.
Mike's eyelids flutter and he rolls his head a little, nuzzling the crown against Harvey's thigh. “Totally care.”
Harvey harrumphs and goes back to work with the wind moaning outside, snow skating across the glass, but he's smiling when he does it.