Work Text:
You're on the phone with your girlfriend
She's upset, she's going off about something that you said
'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do
Mike hated being a cliché, but here he was on a typical Tuesday night, gazing at his best friend and wishing he belonged to Mike instead of his girlfriend. He felt a buzzing sense of shame as he watched Harvey argue with Scottie through his window for the tenth time that week. It sounded a lot creepier than it was, okay? He may look in Harvey's window from time to time, but he wasn't a deranged weirdo.
Harvey and Mike lived on the same floor of neighboring apartment buildings in Brooklyn. They were ten stories up, but their windows faced each other rather than the sidewalk. So they could see each other through their windows, but no one else really could.
Mike noticed Harvey throw his hands up exasperatedly, and the sophomore shook his head with an eyeroll. He wondered what innocuous thing Harvey could have said to set the diva off. Scottie didn't get Harvey’s humor like Mike did. Pearson High’s most notorious couple was more off and on than Rachel and Ross — and just as toxic.
Harvey was two years older than Mike, but they’d become fast friends when Mike moved into Grammy’s apartment after his parents died when he was nine. Harvey couldn’t get it get it, but he got it as much as someone with two parents possibly could.
He didn’t ask how Mike was feeling all the time or pressure him to ‘talk about it.’ He didn’t say ‘sorry’ in that awkward way people tend to do when they don't know what else to say.
Harvey wasn’t a big talker anyway. If Mike needed to talk, the senior would just listen, touching their shoulders together in a quiet sort of comfort. Then, after Mike fell silent, Harvey would always squeeze his neck.
Harvey was silent. Steady. There.
But sometimes, Mike forgot to close his curtains before a breakdown, when waves of grief hit him out of nowhere. On those days, Harvey would climb up Mike’s fire escape and crawl through his window unannounced. He always brought a pre-popped bag of popcorn and a DVD, turning it on and climbing under the covers without a word.
Harvey would lean Mike’s head on his shoulder or put his arm around him. On really bad days, he’d scooch Mike down on the bed so his head fell into Harvey’s lap. Sometimes, Mike felt a hand stroke his hair.
Mike would lean into the touch until his sniffles petered out, and Harvey would gingerly swipe his thumbs under Mike’s eyes and wipe away the tears.
They never talked about it.
So, yeah. Was it any surprise that Mike had fallen hard for his best friend? Harvey wasn’t really the ‘share your feelings’ kind of guy, so most people wouldn’t expect him to be so tender.
Mike didn’t think most platonic guys were this tactile with each other, and Harvey would occasionally get this glint in his eye .... and for a few fleeting moments, Mike would delude himself into thinking that his pining wasn’t one-sided. Yeah, he was man enough to admit that he was down bad with a free bout of pining for every purchase.
His suspicions that Harvey reciprocated his infatuation always dissipated when he remembered that the football captain was the epitome of a straight jock and Mike was, well, Mike. Even if Harvey were into guys, he would never go for Mike. Who would after they’d seen him wear that stupid marching band Shako hat?
School was different than when it was just them.
It wasn't like Harvey ignored him, but they didn’t exactly run in the same circles. Whenever Scottie saw them together, she’d yank Harvey over to the lockers to make out. If she wasn't around, Harvey would get dragged away by a teammate or distracted into catching an errant football that always whizzed dangerously close to Mike's face.
Sometimes, Mike felt invisible.
I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like
And she'll never know your story like I do
Mike hated the way Scottie treated his best friend. How many times could a couple break up and get back together before they called it quits for good?
He constantly had to bite his tongue to stop himself from telling Harvey that he deserved better. It was none of Mike's business who Harvey dated — a mantra he had to mutter to himself over and over to avoid blurting it out.
And that brought Mike to this moment, watching Harvey don his ‘I want to murder someone’ look as he shouted into the phone. Mike couldn’t actually hear him, but he knew Harvey well enough to tell he was yelling, even from one building over.
Mike turned up the volume on the CD Harvey had given him of his dad performing his latest album. As a clarinet player, Mike could appreciate the skill involved with Gordon’s effortless riffs. They always soothed Mike when he was down.
He knew they did the same for Harvey, and sometimes, they listened together. Gordon had even brought Mike and Harvey to a local gig every now and then, sneaking the underage high schoolers through the back entrance. Mike loved watching Harvey watch his dad perform: No mask. No fake, cocky smile. Just Harvey.
Gordon wasn’t around much, but to Harvey, he hung the moon. Of course, Scottie wanted nothing to do with his dad's soft jazz and didn't bother pretending otherwise. Harvey had tried to get her to listen to it, but she just scoffed at him and switched the music to some Top 40 song Harvey didn’t know the name of.
When his best friend told him the story, Mike was fuming. Couldn’t she see that his dad’s music meant something to him? Even if it wasn't her thing, would it kill her to listen and say something nice?
Scottie would never know Harvey’s story like Mike did. She didn’t know that Harvey blasted music to drown out his parents’ fighting. She didn’t know that Harvey would climb through Mike’s window when his dad was out of town and his mom had her “friend” Bobby over.
She didn’t see the look on his face before Harvey put his head in his hands, trying to decide whether or not to tell his dad that his mom was a cheating homewrecker.
Mike would sit with Harvey while he silently stewed, occasionally lacing their fingers together and soothing him with his thumb. Harvey never stopped him. He would lean into the touch and thank Mike with his eyes.
They never talked about it.
Mike couldn’t remember a time when Harvey and Scottie weren’t arguing — not counting the times they sucked each other’s faces in the hallway.
Harvey angrily hung up the phone, and Mike scribbled “You okay?” on a notebook and held it up so Harvey could see it through his window.
He wrote back, “Tired of drama.”
Well, yeah. When you date a girl like Scottie, you’re signing up for the drama that comes along with her prissy attitude. How could he not see that his girlfriend was basically Regina George?
But Mike was a loyal friend, and he wasn’t about to shit-talk Harvey’s girlfriend to his face. Instead, he wrote, “Sorry,” accentuated with a frowny face, and held it up.
Harvey just shrugged. He'd already pulled his curtains closed when Mike brokenheartedly held up the “I love you” sign he’d just made.
But she wears short skirts
I wear T-shirts
She's cheer captain
And I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see
That I'm the one
Who understands you
Been here all along
So, why can't you see
You belong with me
You belong with me
But she wore short skirts, Mike wore t-shirts. She was cheer captain, and Mike warmed the bleachers, dreaming about the day when Harvey'd wake up and find that what he's looking for had been here the whole time.
No one understood Harvey like Mike — and Scottie didn’t even try. But Mike would always be there for his best friend.
Harvey belonged with Mike, but he knew it was a pipe dream. They would never be together. Not in the real world, anyway.
Mike wondered if Harvey would see him differently if he switched up his look. He glanced down at his signed camp shirt and even he was judging himself for being a fucking dork.
He changed into a random getup and cringed when he looked in the mirror. He looked like a fucking hippie. Mike replaced it with an emo vibe and imagined sweeping back a head of untamed bangs and jet black hair. Then came the mismatched plaid scene look until he landed on a colorful hoodie with intentionally messy hair.
No, just no. No to all of it.
After Mike changed back into his cursed nerdy camp shirt, he blasted bubblegum pop, jamming out on the bed with his makeshift hairbrush microphone.
At first, he didn’t notice Harvey peeking through his curtains, watching Mike with a fond smile. But as soon as his eyes flicked over to the glass, Mike’s Irish heritage betrayed him when he turned beet red. If he had no shot with Harvey before, he definitely didn’t have one now.
Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans
I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be
Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself
"Hey, isn't this easy?"
And you've got a smile
That could light up this whole town
I haven't seen it in a while
Since she brought you down
You say you're fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?
Mike was reading on a park bench when Harvey slid into the space next to him. The senior was rocking a simple white t-shirt with a red neckline and a pair of worn-out jeans. God, how did he look amazing in everything?
Meanwhile, Mike self-consciously fiddled with the sleeves of his grey hoodie, stopping cold when Harvey tucked a wayward piece of hair behind his ear. Mike's brain short-circuited, and he couldn't help thinking this was how it ought to be.
Harvey's deep brown eyes glittered in the sun when he smiled brightly at Mike. He'd missed that smile — Harvey's real smile. The one that lit up the whole damn town. He hadn't seen it since Scottie brought him down with her vapid drama.
Though not even Harvey's smile could compete with his laugh. It was Mike's favorite sound in the world. Harvey loved it when Mike did his Han Solo impression, so he brought it out whenever Harvey looked like he needed a pick-me-up. It was so damn easy when it was just the two of them.
When Harvey's laughter died down, Mike put his hand on the senior's thigh and softly asked, "Hey, are you okay?"
Gone was Harvey's genuine smile, which had morphed into a strained, slight uptick of his lips that didn't reach his eyes.
He muttered, "I'm fine, Mike."
Yeah, Mike didn't believe that for one second. Mike knew Harvey better than that. But what could he do?
Their moment was short-lived when Scottie pulled up to the curb in a red Corvette. Harvey got into the car without uttering a word to Mike, giving him a slight wave without meeting his eyes.
Scottie claimed her territory with a cruel smirk after she initiated a heady kiss. And for the umpteenth time that day, Mike wondered what Harvey was doing with a girl like that.
She wears high heels
I wear sneakers
She's cheer captain
And I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see
That I'm the one
Who understands you
Been here all along
So, why can't you see
You belong with me
Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time, how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
That night, Mike paid more attention to Harvey than his sheet music during the big homecoming football game against Zane Prep. He'd missed at least five of his entrances while his clarinet lay limp in his hand.
As the quarterback and captain, Harvey nailed play after play until he scored the game-winning touchdown. His teammates hoisted him up on their shoulders, and Mike was momentarily distracted by Scottie doing a series of complicated tumbling jumps across the field in her blue, skin-tight cheer uniform. How could he even try to compete with that?
Harvey jogged up to her to celebrate the win, but she was busy cosying up to some other guy whom Mike couldn't even name. If she knew Harvey at all, she would know that cheating was his hard line in the sand dealbreaker.
Mike’s mouth popped open when they argued loud enough for him to catch bits of it on the other end of the field. Mike shook his head when Harvey stormed off. Harvey deserved so much better than this.
Oh, I remember you driving to my house
In the middle of the night
I'm the one who makes you laugh
When you know you're 'bout to cry
I know your favorite songs
And you tell me about your dreams
Think I know where you belong
Think I know it's with me
Can't you see
That I'm the one
Who understands you?
Been here all along
So, why can't you see
You belong with me
An hour after the game, Mike was lounging on his bed with papers spread everywhere. Mike could call it organized chaos, but that would be a lie. He may be a 'genius' (Harvey's word), but he was far from being Type A. Ironically enough, that honor went to Harvey despite the respective nerd and jock stereotypes.
Mike was having a hard time focusing, though, still shaken by what seemed like a breakup on the field. But how many times had Harvey and Scottie broken up before? Mike doubted it would stick. Although if Scottie was cheating, that might have done the trick to snap him out of her hold for good.
He thought of all the times Harvey and he had snuck through each other's windows in the middle of the night. How Mike could always get Harvey to laugh when he knew he was about to cry. Mike knew all his favorite songs, and they talked about their shared dream of becoming lawyers.
They even daydreamed about opening up a firm together one day. Specter-Ross had a nice ring to it, even though it would never mean what Mike wanted it to mean.
Mike knew where Harvey belonged — with him.
When Mike snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the window, Harvey was dressed in a tux. Right. The homecoming dance. Mike had completely forgotten about it. It wasn't like he had anyone to go with anyway. Not that he would want to go with anyone but Harvey.
Mike forced himself out of his self-pity sesh when Harvey held up a sign that said, “You going tonight?” Mike scribbled, “No, studying,” on his notebook and Harvey looked … kind of bummed? That was interesting. He’d never cared whether or not Mike skipped a dance in the past.
This time, Harvey wrote, “I wish you were!”
Maybe Mike should go. He didn’t want Harvey to go alone and see Scottie with that other guy. Harvey had never gone to a dance alone before, and Mike knew how isolating that could be.
He moved one of the papers on his bed and found the “I love you” sign staring back at him. Mike couldn’t name the feeling, but he had a strong compulsion to go after Harvey. He knew the senior was wearing a tux, but Mike didn’t have anything nearly that nice to wear.
The best he could do was a white dress shirt, red plaid skinny tie, black slacks, and a pair of checkered Converse. Girls always got that grand entrance in a stunning dress when they took off their glasses and let their hair down. Then, the guy of their dreams would finally look at them — really look at them.
Mike didn’t have all that, but he knew he would regret it if he didn’t try.
Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time, how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
You belong with me
Have you ever thought just maybe
You belong with me?
You belong with me
When Mike walked through the gym doors, he immediately caught Harvey’s eye. His eyes widened when Harvey’s mouth slightly popped open, like he was seeing Mike for the first time. Time stood still as Harvey looked at him — really looked at him.
Mike could barely breathe as the rest of the swaying bodies melted away. It was just Harvey and him. Harvey, whose mouth upturned into a small, genuine smile. Mike couldn’t afford to get his hopes up, but it was what he’d always imagined a Laney Boggs or Mia Thermopolis makeover moment would feel like. Except Mike didn't have to change himself for Harvey to see him.
They gravitated toward each other as if some kind of magnetic pull was bringing them together.
Scottie broke their trance when she sized up Harvey, his perfectly tailored suit, and the rose pinned to his jacket. When she put her hand on his shoulder to initiate a dance, Harvey shrugged her off and continued making his way toward Mike. The sophomore's breathing (or lack thereof) was really starting to become an issue.
But Mike didn’t have time to inwardly gloat at Scottie’s affronted expression. He was distracted by Harvey eyeing him up and down. If he didn’t know better, Mike would say there was a glint of lust in Harvey's eyes.
Well, it was now or never. Mike took a steadying breath and held up his “I love you” sign for Harvey to read. He was ready to start panicking when Harvey ignored it to get something out of his tux jacket.
The whole needing to breathe thing became a struggle again when Mike stopped entirely. He read Harvey's newly unfolded matching paper that bore the words, “I love you” in blue ink.
Holy fuck.
How many times had they both chickened out of confessing their real feelings? When Mike gave him a shy smile, Harvey shot back one of his authentic, full-toothed grins. No false bravado. No smirk. No fake happiness.
Just Harvey. His Harvey. The Harvey that only Mike saw. The one that Harvey hid when he was on the field or making out with Scottie. The one that didn’t fake-laugh at his idiot jock friends. The one who held Mike when he cried and gripped his hand when the world seemed too cold.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Scottie storm off, but he was more interested in the boy whose mouth was dangerously close — closer than it had ever been before. Close enough to kiss.
They shared a private smile just for them until Harvey slinked his arm around Mike’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest.
Mike let out a puff of laughter, breathlessly whispering, “Hi.”
Harvey gave him that small, fond smile that he only reserved for Mike. He carded his hand through Mike’s hair before whispering, “Hi,” in Mike’s ear. After a beat, Harvey leaned in for a kiss, swallowing Mike’s hitched breath.
Mike was being cliché again because when he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, he saw stars.
Sometimes, Mike wondered if he’d unrealistically built up Harvey in his head with his infatuation that had gone on for years. Mike spent so long daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss his best friend that maybe it wouldn’t live up to his expectations. Maybe there wouldn’t be fireworks. Maybe it wouldn’t be everything he’d dreamt it would be.
Yeah, Past Mike was a fucking idiot. As their lips slotted together, it felt like they were made for each other — that every written conversation through windows, every shared laugh, every whispered confession, every wiped tear, every stolen touch was building up to this.
Mike couldn’t have conjured up a daydream as intoxicating, as right as the reality before him. That’s how he knew he wasn’t dreaming. No dream could be this good.
Harvey muffled Mike’s whimper when the senior's tongue made its way into Mike’s mouth. When they finally pulled away, they felt every set of eyes in the gym on them, but they couldn’t give less of a fuck.
Neither of them felt like answering questions or dealing with reactions from Harvey’s popular friends. Tonight was just for them. After Harvey pinned his rose to Mike's shirt, they strolled out of the gym hand-in-hand, dodging the teacher who was probably about to scold them for indecent canoodling.
Their hands remained linked when they stopped for pizza (Harvey didn't forget to order cheesy crust for Mike). After securing the goods, they made their way up Mike’s fire escape and through his window. Harvey sat up against Mike’s headboard, scooting the sophomore over so he was sitting between Harvey's outstretched legs. Mike's back rested against Harvey's chest when they ate their pizza one-handed, fingers still interlocked.
Harvey finished before Mike, who nearly dropped a slice on his lap before Harvey took it from him. The senior chuckled, landing a feather-light kiss on the back of Mike’s head before feeding him the slice from behind.
It was weirdly intimate. Harvey always teased Mike for being a klutz, and he’d stopped him from tripping over his feet on more than one occasion. But this? Yeah, Mike could get used to this.
When Mike finished the slice, he felt Harvey’s finger in his mouth. After nearly blacking out, it took a few seconds for him to get with the program before he licked the grease off all ten of Harvey's digits. Harvey brought Mike even closer to his chest, winding his arms around his torso and gripping him tight.
Either a few minutes or an hour later, Harvey nudged Mike to sit upright and made his way over to the record player he'd gifted Mike for Christmas last year. When the senior pulled out the first record that Gordon had ever given Harvey, Mike nearly face-palmed at his own stupidity.
Harvey had literally given Mike his most prized possession — his favorite record. A symbol of the musical bond he shared with his dad. His most cherished gift from his father. And Harvey had offered it up to Mike without a word.
But that was the thing about Harvey Specter: He spoke with his actions, not his words.
When the first few notes emanated from the speakers, Harvey held out his hand. After Mike took it, Harvey hoisted him up, and the sophomore fell into his arms with a giggle. Without missing a beat, Harvey steadied him before wrapping an arm around Mike's neck and waist, pulling him impossibly closer.
They didn't need a tacky, decorated gym filled with gossiping teenagers and Top 40 songs. Not when they had each other. Not when they could have a night filled with soft jazz and softer kisses.
The couple lost track of how many times they had to turn the record over, swaying with the ebbs and flows of the music. Mike couldn't stop giggling every time Harvey dipped him. Though Harvey's attempt to twirl Mike didn't go nearly as well when Mike almost toppled into his bookshelf.
Luckily, Harvey quickly grabbed Mike before he could hit his head. They both collapsed into each other in a fit of laughter, but Harvey didn't try it again.
Mike couldn't tell if it was one or four hours later when he nuzzled his head in the crook of Harvey’s neck, relishing in their closeness.
Harvey lightly kissed Mike’s head and whispered in his ear, “You belong with me, Mike. You always have. I was just too stupid to do anything about it.”
They shared a sweet kiss filled with promise and understanding, and Mike knew in his heart that they belonged together. But more importantly? They always would.
Neither of them bothered changing out of their dress clothes before they collapsed on Mike's bed. Harvey slotted Mike's back against his chest, wrapping a protective arm around his waist and kissing the spot below his ear.
Mike had never felt safer, more loved. More right. It didn't take long for Harvey’s faint smell of cologne and soft puffs of breath to lull Mike asleep.
But before he lost total consciousness, Mike could have sworn he heard Grammy softly open his door and mumble, “About damn time” before shutting it again.
Yeah, about damn time. Mike snuggled deeper into Harvey’s embrace and drifted off to sleep with one last thought: Harvey belonged to him. Finally.