Mischief Managed - harvey x mike

inspired by this post, and my reblogged tags

Five minutes, and he’s already lost the damn dog.

His neighbor had warned him that Buster was a wanderer, but Harvey hadn’t exactly taken it to heart because, firstly: his neighbor is 87 years old and known to forget things, so it’s very possible that she’d actually wandered off from Buster and not the other way around, and secondly: Harvey isn’t incompetent. He can keep an eye on a dog for an hour or so.

Except it turns out she was totally right. All it took was the leash being unclipped and Harvey looking down for a half a second to bundle the leash and Buster was gone.

Which means Harvey is screwed, because this dog is the love of Betty’s life.

He turns a slow 360, eyes tracking every dog in his sight line in the hope that one of them will answer to the name Buster, but he’s out of luck, and Buster is nowhere in sight. So he takes a path and starts jogging down it, calling out Buster’s name, asking people he passes if they’ve seen a golden retriever run by this way.

New Yorkers are not helpful people.

He’s been running around the park for 30 minutes and he’s just about to lose hope when he turns a corner and spies a dog that looks suspiciously like Buster sitting in front of a man seated on a park bench, watching the man happily as the man reads to him.

Harvey isn’t close enough to hear the man speak so he moves closer, stops when he’s still a fair distance away. Buster’s mouth is open in a grin and a light pant, and when the man pauses speaking, Buster nudges his hand with his nose.

He laughs, reaches forward and scratches Buster as he says, “Okay, I get it…don’t stop.”

When he starts to read again, Harvey almost does a double take. Harry Potter?

It’s a well-loved, paperback copy, creased and bent. And when he speaks he gets into it, leaning forward toward Buster.

“The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger.”

Buster whimpers and the man stops, looks up, reaches forward and pets him.

“I know. But Hagrid’s coming soon. You’ll like him.”

Harvey smiles to himself, walks over. “I think you have my dog.”

The man looks up, taken aback. He looks down at his book briefly and starts to blush, the color rising in his cheeks. “Sorry…he just…uh…walked up and sat there. And then he nudged the book so I thought he might like it if I read to him.”

Harvey shouldn’t feel so charmed, but the guy is reading his book in the middle of Central Park to a damn lost dog.

“Harry Potter?”

The man points the book at him. “Hey, Harry Potter is a new classic, appropriate for all ages and…species.”

“If you say so.”

“Your dog agrees with me.”

“It’s not actually my dog, which explains its suspect taste level.”

The man looks at him strangely, as if Harvey is some deviant with a leash who wanders the park, claiming random, misplaced dogs just to strike up conversation.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s my neighbor’s dog.”

“And you’re walking her dog as a favor in the hopes of getting in her pants?”

“No, she’s too old for me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Harvey nods. “She turned eighty-seven last month.”

A slow smile is beginning to grow on his face. “And that doesn’t do it for you?”

“Well, she’s pretty spry so I might’ve gone for it, but she’s always calling me Morty, and really…I deserve better than to live in her dead husband’s shadow.”

The man barks out a laugh and throws his head back and Harvey grins.

“I’m Harvey, by the way.”


Buster leans forward and nudges the book in Mike’s hand. Mike looks down and pets his head but stands, looks at his watch. “Sorry, buddy. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

It’s clear he’s not just talking to Buster when Harvey detects the regret seeping into his voice, the sudden downturn of his mouth.

“You’re really going to do that to poor Buster just when Hagrid was about to show up? You’ve got him interested now.”

Mike smiles, slow and wide, and looks away for a moment before he says, “Well…maybe Buster and I should make a date to meet up again. Is he free next Saturday? Same time?”

“I’ll check his calendar.”

Mike nods. “You do that.”

He walks away, down the path, looking over his shoulder once with a smile and shake of his head before he disappears around the bend. Harvey reaches down and clips the leash onto Buster’s collar and says, “Well done little Weasley.”


Betty gives him a bit of a hard time when he asks to walk Buster again the next Saturday, but it’s worth it when they come around the bend in the path and see Mike sitting there on the bench, waiting for them, two cups of coffee sitting on the bench next to him, the book curled in half between his hands. Harvey lets Buster off his leash and Mike looks up and stands when the dog comes bounding toward him, a smile splitting his face. Harvey walks slowly forward, returns Mike’s smile with one of his own.

“So Buster had room in his schedule after all.”

“We squeezed you in.”

They share a grin, hands reaching down blindly to pet Buster when he noses at their hands for attention.

“Besides…he was dying to know what comes next. And I didn’t want to disappoint him. What comes next, Mike?”

Mike bites his lip, looks down at the book in his hands then back up at Harvey.


you’re cute when you’re all worried (harvey/mike) - for poedameron

Mike is, not to put too fine a point on it, a bundle of nerves.

He must’ve shuffled the stack of papers in front of him at least a dozen times. He’s biting his lower lip, which makes it even pinker than normal. He’s spinning his pen around with such practised ease Harvey wonders how many years he’s been doing it.

“You’ll be fine,” Harvey says gently.

Mike just scoffs. “How can you be sure?”

“Do you really think I’d let you take charge of the motion if I didn’t think you could do it?”

Mike seems to genuinely consider that for a moment. He nods, gives Harvey a grateful smile, and he settles back in his chair, visibly relaxed.

It doesn’t last.

Three minutes later Mike is shuffling his papers again.

“You’re cute when you’re all worried,” Harvey says, and Mike stills for a moment before turning to Harvey, surprise clear on his face.

“Are you - did you just…” He looks around nervously, then leans in closer and asks, “Are you flirting with me right now?”

Harvey leans in too, smirking. “And what if I am?”

Mike looks at him for a moment, confused, then thoughtful, and then finally he laughs, sitting back in his chair. “I get it, you’re just trying to distract me so I won’t get too nervous.”

“Yup,” Harvey replies easily. “Is it working?”

“Maybe. You might just have to keep going, tell me how hot you think I am and how you wish we could just sneak off into another room and make out or something … you know, just to be sure it’s working.”

Harvey smiles slowly, delighted. “Are you flirting with me now?”

Mike shrugs, but he can’t stop his lips from quirking up slightly. Harvey can definitely work with this.

“Okay. Mike, once you absolutely own opposing council, making him weep tears of regret for all the years he wasted at law school just to be shown how it’s done by someone ten years his junior, I’m going to wrap my long fingers firmly around your wrist and pull you into the nearest empty meeting room, pressing you against the closed door and sink-”

Harvey is cut off by Mike’s hand across his mouth. “Stop. Talking,” Mike groans.

Harvey grins beneath Mike’s hand, and when Mike doesn’t pull back he licks his palm. Mike moves away reflexively, and Harvey says, “Speaking of licking…”

“Oh my God,” Mike moans, closing his eyes briefly. “If you keep this up I’m not going to be able to stand when the judge walks in and that will not endear me to her and I’ll fuck this up and lose the motion.”

“Okay,” Harvey says, hands up in surrender. “But are you still nervous?”

“Not about the case.”

“Well then, mission accomplished.”

Mike glares at him, but he can’t put much heat into it. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

“Yes you can.”

“And when I win this you and I are going to go find an empty meeting room.”

“Yes we are.”

Harvey Milk Day

Today, HRC honors and celebrates Harvey Milk Day. Every year, the LGBT and allied community celebrate Harvey Milk Day, the LGBT leader and legend who was assassinated in 1978. He would have turned 85-years-old today. Milk made history in 1977 when he was elected to serve as a San Francisco City Supervisor and became one of the first openly LGBT elected officials in the country. Less than a year later, he was murdered, along with San Francisco Mayor George Moscone, on November 28, 1978. Milk’s legacy lives on through LGBT activists across the country. He envisioned a world where all people, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, were treated equally— a goal HRC is still working toward today. The San Francisco HRC Action Center and Store in the historic Castro District is located in Milk’s former camera shop. In addition to keeping LGBT individuals and allies informed on national issues, the action center engages advocates to push leaders at all levels in support of equality. Learn more about HRC’s Action Center and Store in San Francisco here and share the image below to show your support in the fight for LGBT equality.


Gifs reposted with permission by their creator, @dearly.


Wow…that was weak.”

Gordon throws his head back and laughs, and it’s so infectious Harvey starts laughing right along with him, even as he tries to say, “Shut up, old man.”

“Didn’t you used to be good at this?”

Harvey stops, points the end of the bat at him, left hand holding the grip, and says, “I’d like to see you do better.”

He shakes his head. “No chance. I’m two beers in.”

“Yeah…that’s what I thought.”

He turns, steps in the batter’s box again, swings the bat a few times like a pendulum then brings it back up to hover just above his shoulder, his fingers fluttering a little before coming to rest on the grip. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other before centering again and stops, waits for the pitch to come.

He’ll always regret that his baseball career ended, not that that was is choice. Tearing your shoulder in half has a way of making a choice for you. For a while it was difficult, but he’s glad he moved past it so he could do this, so he could spend a Saturday with is dad in the park hitting the ball around like he’s sixteen again and dreaming of a future in the majors.

Besides, he has a good life now.

The pitch comes and Harvey bends just a touch, squares up, keeps his eye on the ball.

And hits a soft drive that bounces once in the middle of right field and then continues on, bouncing several more times until it lands at the feet of a man in converse, sitting at a picnic table with an older woman. Harvey sets the bat down and goes jogging over, through the infield, and the man, seeing his approach, tosses him the ball underhand.


Harvey tosses the ball up once in his hand, catches it without looking. He’s too focused on the man sitting in front of him.

The man nods. “No problem.”

“That was a pretty weak hit, young man.”

Harvey’s eyes widen, taken aback, and then he can’t help it. He starts laughing. Hard.

The man in front of him sputters, says, “Grammy! Jesus…did you forget your meds this morning?”

Grammy just pats him on the hand a few times, not the slightest bit bothered by his embarrassment. The flush is creeping up his neck and he looks to be a half second away from getting up and disavowing any knowledge of her whatsoever.

Gordon comes walking up, a beer in each hand, and before Harvey can say anything, Grammy says, “Is one of those for me?”

Actually, one of those was Harvey’s, but he’ll gladly surrender it. It seems like his father had the same feeling, because he holds it out to her without a second thought.

The man in front of him, though, this man whose name he still does not know, looks as though he’d very much enjoy burying himself in the ground at their feet.

Instead he sighs and says, “My grandmother, Edith Ross.”

Harvey smiles, takes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Harvey Specter, and this is my dad Gordon.”

Gordon takes Edith’s hand with a smile, and Harvey looks at the man in front of him, smiling softly at his grandmother, and says, “We still don’t know your name.”

His head swivels to meet Harvey’s eye and his mouth opens a moment, closes, and then he stands abruptly, holds out his hand. “Sorry. I’m Mike…Mike Ross.”

Harvey holds Mike’s hand in his own a little longer than necessary, shakes it slowly, keeps gentle eye contact. He’s smiling when he says, “It’s nice to meet you, Mike.”

“Would you like to join us for lunch?”

Mike pulls his eyes away from Harvey’s to say, “Oh, Grammy, they don’t want to-”

“We’d love to.”

Before Harvey can get the words out Gordon has already sat down at the picnic table across from Grammy, leaving an open seat across from Mike. Harvey quickly takes it, smiles at Grammy in thanks when she slides a plate toward him with a sandwich, potato salad, and fruit. He sets the baseball on the table in front of him and Mike tentatively reaches out and pulls it across the table toward himself, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. His plate is half empty and he picks up a grape with the other hand, pops it in his mouth.

“I know your name.”

Gordon pauses between bites. “You might. I’m a studio musician.”

She stares him down. “I saw you play in nineteen seventy-five at The Red Room. You were backing up Miles Davis.”

He nods slowly. “I was.”

She just nods. “You were very good.”

He smiles. “Thank you. He was better.”

She shrugs. “He was Miles Davis.”

His grin grows wider. “Yes he was.”

Harvey looks at Mike to see him watching them with a happy smile, Harvey’s baseball held loosely on the table in his right hand. As if he realizes he’s being watched, he slowly turns his head to look at Harvey and turns his smile on him. Harvey doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

“Your grandmother is…”

“Yeah. I know.”

Harvey takes a bite of potato salad and Mike’s eyes drop to his mouth. Harvey’s tongue darts out, licks his lips, and Mike takes a deep breath in, lets it out. And then it’s like neither of them can look away, as if transfixed.

The spell is finally broken when Harvey feels a hand clap on his shoulder and he looks up to see his dad standing next to him, waiting for a response to a question Harvey didn’t hear.

“Michael? Are you ready to go?”

Mike looks at her a moment then looks back at Harvey. “I think I have plans.”

Harvey feels the slow smile growing on his face. “Yes. You do.”

There’s a long pause and then Gordon says, “In that case, Edith…may I escort you home?”

Harvey looks away from Mike to see his dad pick a cooler up off the table and hold his arm out for her to take. She nods at him, takes his arm, and then pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Don’t forget to use protection, dear.”

Mike drops his head with a thud on the table and Harvey grins as he watches Gordon and Edith walk away through the park, her arm hooked in his, lunch cooler swinging from his hand.


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“Tell you what, kid. When you get a gold medal, then I’m all yours.”

the gold standard by smartalli. coming soon. (maybe.) (hopefully.)