Not a question, just a THANK YOU for sex shirt with visible chest, Harvey on my dash this fine day!
I was going to say you’re welcome and attach a coloured version… BUT I just spotted some amazing non-hetero behaviour, so instead -
That’s right, look at Mike’s eyes. They are not on Harvey’s face when he asks, “Mike, what are you doing here?” No, they are not. All I have done is slow this scene down. Mike is checking out that little patch of skin Harvey is showing off.
And I don’t know about anyone else, but it isn’t much of a stretch for Harvey to catch that subtle glance, and yank Mike inside by his tie and ……. NSFW!
Ginny was late. Super late. She didn’t know how, but her alarm didn’t go off, or she forgot to set it… either way she was late for the early Pitching practice.
The front office had made it a point to beef up the bullpen and as the star pitcher who nearly brought them to the promised land last season, Ginny needed to be present more than ever. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she would be mentoring young male pitchers in the bigs, but here she was… late and all.
In Ginny’s haste, she threw on her Padres practice Tee, ankle sweats, brushed her teeth, and booked it to Petco. Her entrance was less than graceful, but she made it before any real practicing was underway.
Ginny swept her hair up into her high pony, and smiled apologetically at the new pitching coach as he pretended to tap his invisible watch.
“Nice of you to join us Superstar” Red Wallace, and new Padres acquisition quipped.
“Shut it,” Ginny snapped with faux annoyance and instantly shifted into work mode, focusing on her drills.
Gone were thoughts of being violently awaken and stripped from the sweetest warmth known to man. Gone were anxiety and the stress of her unceremonious arrival. Ginny was in the zone until she noticed everyone in the bullpen staring at her.
It started out as subtle glances but quickly turned into all out gawking.
“What?!” Ginny yelled finally giving into curiosity as they all caught their breath from the new coaches idea of cardio.
“Your shirt,” a shy rookie uttered, lifting his finger only barely to point to her shirt.
Ginny looked down. She didn’t see anything on her shirt, it was a little big, but nothing was on it.
The moment it hit her, Ginny’s heart sank.
His scent had wrecked her senses. She assumed it was simply lingering…taunting her during practice until she could bask in the heaven of his massive arms and warmth. But no. Ginny Baker, usually hyper punctual and discrete Ginny Baker, was standing in the middle of the bullpen wearing Mike Lawson’s practice shirt.
The blood rushed to her face as she searched for a smart ass response to this ridiculously awkward situation. But before she could respond, as if on cue, the one and only, nearly retired and soon to be bullpen coach/advisor Mike Lawson strolled in with something midnight blue in his hand.
Ginny stood motionless, as all eyes honed in on them.
“Nice digs there Rook,” Mike said, cool, calm, and arrogantly confident as ever.
“Didn’t need to make the trip old man, pretty sure I have a few spare in my cubby,” Ginny said nervously gesturing to her shirt no doubt in his hand.
“Yeah, I bet you do,” Mike said smiling down at Ginny.
Ginny wasn’t quite sure how to play this. They weren’t entirely a secret, but they weren’t entirely out in the open either. The front office was aware and willing to look the other way bar no team disturbances or PR disasters. Interrupting Ginny’s thoughts, a voice that could only be Sal’s yelled, “No boyfriends on the field Baker!” as the rest of the team filed in for practice.
“Then why is Dusty here?” Ginny shouted back.
“Love is love Baker!” Sal yelled back earning a chuckle from everyone.
Mike could see the tension disappear. Her shoulders relaxed and those big brown eyes found their way back to his.
“See you at home,” Mike said stepping into Ginny’s space, timidly placing his hands on her waist, ignoring the whistles and catcalls behind them.
“Okay?” Mike asked, the real intent of his question not lost on his girl.
“Okay,” Ginny said, exhaling, not realizing her hands had snuck up and were resting on the plane of his abs.
Mike slowly leaned forward before pressing a gentle kiss on Ginny’s cheek and briefly whispered in her ear.
She took her shirt and watched him walk right into the raucous heap of a team, ready and waiting to give them both a mile long pile of shit for this particular snafu.
Mike turned to face Ginny one last time before he left. His cheeks reddened, his heart full, as he watched her mouth, “I love you too.”
“I’ve learned by watching films that inspired me and people who inspired me like Robert Redford and Paul Newman. I love old school acting. I love subtlety, and I also love being spontaneous, and that’s really what works for me.”
Those few days he spent roaming the Harvard campus, trying to pick up tidbits of information he might need to try and validate the lie of a life he was about to live, felt like forever ago. He was a different man now. If you had’ve found Mike that day and told him that nearly a decade later he’d be married to the man that hired him and they’d have an adorable son whom Mike loved more than anything in this life, well, that Mike probably would’ve wondered if he still had some drugs lingering in his system.
To be honest he doesn’t know how he feels about being back on Harvard grounds. He can see a sense of contentment settle over Harvey, a feeling of nostalgia he doesn’t normally succumb to working its magic on him. He can see the excitement on Emmett’s face, thrilled at the newness of it all and captivated by the expanses of snow covered grounds before him. But for Mike, Harvard has always been a shadow in the corner of his mind, a reminder of how different things could’ve gone had he just been better.
But then Harvey’s fingers slide through his, and Mike turns to look at his husband, and he knows that if he’d made it here when he was meant to then he never would’ve met Harvey. And that is a scenario that is simply unacceptable.
They’re back here because Harvey has been asked to do some guest lecturing, and they decided to make a mini vacation of it. They’re using Cambridge as their base and then exploring the local area along with doing some day trips further afield. Harvey has already told him about several places he remembers from his Harvard days that he wants to show Mike, and Mike might have done some research about what other interesting places they could visit while they were here. They haven’t gotten out of Manhattan in so long, and he thinks all three of them could use this break away from everyday life.
Poor Emmett vacillated between uncontrollable excitement and utter boredom the whole drive here, but now that they’ve arrived and he can run around the snow covered quad he’s definitely back to uncontrollable excitement. Mike’s happy to let him burn off some energy. He still hasn’t decided if he’ll attend Harvey’s lectures - Harvey asked him to come along, and he’s sure Emmett could behave himself for an hour if they sat quietly in the back - but he doesn’t need to decide either way yet. For now they can just wander along the grounds, together and content.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it was,” Mike admits.
Harvey makes a noise of assent, and when Mike follows his gaze he sees Harvey is watching Emmett, rolling around in the snow and laughing his head off. It does something to Mike, the fact that Harvey has returned to a place with which he speaks of nothing but fondness, and yet he still can’t take his eyes off their son.
“Hey,” Mike says, tugging on Harvey’s hand, and Harvey meets his eyes. Mike leans over and kisses him. “I’m glad we’re here.”
Harvey grins. “Me too,” he says, and Harvey is the one to close the gap between them this time.
They’re interrupted from what would probably be an inappropriately long make out by Emmett running into their legs. They break apart, laughing, and Emmett grabs Mike’s hand and tugs, saying, “Let’s go!”
They let Emmett lead them away, and Harvey says, “I think Emmett will like studying here.”
“He’s four years old,” Mike points out. “It’s a little too early to start planning his college future.”
“It’s never too early,” Harvey says, and Mike can’t help but roll his eyes. “Plus, he’s a legacy, with two lawyers for fathers. No way is he going to be something other than a lawyer.”
“Emmett will be whatever he wants to be and we will support him one hundred percent,” Mike says, not a little firmly. He probably wouldn’t have been so insistent if Harvey hadn’t made the two lawyers for fathers comment (and in all honestly it’s not like he himself hasn’t thought that Emmett might grow up to be a lawyer before). But Mike hasn’t been a lawyer in four years, he’ll never practice law again, and he can’t help but wonder what they’ll tell Emmett when he grows up, the truth about how they met, about Mike’s past.
“Hey, Mike, what is it?” Harvey asks, concern clear in his voice.
Mike shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“No it’s not. Talk to me.”
Mike lets out a deep sigh, takes a moment to watch Emmett as he runs ahead of them before coming back, grinning the whole time. “Emmett will be going to school soon.”
Harvey looks confused by the apparent non sequitur. “Yeah…”
“I guess I’ve just been … I can’t go back to being a lawyer, but as much as I love you and Emmett I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being a stay at home dad either. I need to get back out there, start working again. I just … I don’t know as what.”
Harvey nods thoughtfully. “You don’t have to work, Mike. No, let me finish,” he quickly adds when Mike tries to cut him off. “You don’t need to work, which means you don’t have to rush into it. Take your time, think about what you want to do, maybe even see if you want to go back to school and study for a bit. Whatever you want, I’ll support you.”
Mike smiles warmly. “I know you will.”
“Just like I’ll support our son even if he decides to give up his birthright and not come to Harvard.”
Mike chuckles. “Well, like I said, he’s only four. It’s a pretty impressionable age. Who knows, maybe this vacation will imprint on his mind and he’ll grow up wanting to come back here.”
Requested by someone whose blog is now deactivated.
The moment you saw his face, nothing else mattered. It didn’t mattered that you were caked in mud and a little bit of your own blood, or that you had just escaped from the scariest place in the world. All that mattered was that Mike was here, and he was here for you.
You threw your arms around him, and when his arms wrapped around your waist, you realized how tired you were. You hadn’t even noticed the fact that your ankle was bleeding or that it was probably broken, because you had been running from the dollhouse.
“Oh god,” he said, breathing into your hair. “I thought I’d never find you.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said as he stroked your hair.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You nodded and tried to put weight on your ankle. You stumbled forward and he wrapped his arm around your waist quickly. “I’ve got you,” he said. You and the rest of the group walked out of the woods. When you reached the road, bright lights burned in your face. The blue and red lights of the police vehicles made you cringe.
“Girls!” Immediately, you were embraced by the arms of your family. Mike let go a little, but didn’t move far away from you. He always remained in sight.
“Y/N,” Spencer said, drawing your attention away from the happy reunion. She and the rest of the girls were talking to Detective Gabe Holbrook. You limped over to them, and Emily put an arm around to support you.
“I know you’re eager to return to your families, but I do need you all to come down to the station to answer some questions.”
“Right away?” Mr. Montgomery asked.
“I’m sorry, but yes.”
“It’s fine, dad,” Aria said. “It won’t take long, right guys?” she asked.
“Right,” you all said at the same time.
About two hours later, with the pale white light of the lamp in the interrogation room, all you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and sleep for ever. So when you got home, you made sure to text Mike that you were home, and then went to sleep.
However, after being asleep for nearly an hour, you woke up from a horrible nightmare. It was awful being in your room. It was just like the dollhouse. You crawled out and wandered downstairs, trying to sleep on your couch. You had the same reaction to the change of scenery.
You struggled with sleep all night, so when the rest of your family woke up, you weren’t as rested as they were. They were making breakfast, but you weren’t interested in joining.
“I think I’m gonna go out.”
“You’re gonna do what?”
“I’m just gonna go for a walk. Probably swing by Mike’s,” you said.
“I don’t like the idea of you being out by yourself. Let me drop you off at Mike’s.” You rolled your eyes but knew you couldn’t argue. Mike was waiting at the door when you arrived. Aria wasn’t home, he told you. She had gone to see Ezra.
“Do you want to come in?” Mike asked after you had been standing outside his door for too long.
“No. Can we just go for a walk?” you asked. He nodded and closed the door behind him. The cool fall breeze met your face as Mike took your hand.
“How did you sleep?” he asked as you started walking down his street.
“Awful.” He frowned at you and you gave his hand a squeeze. “I didn’t tell you this, Mike, but-”
“You don’t have to tell me about what happened there if you don’t want to.”
“I know, but I need to talk to someone. My parents think I should go to a therapist.”
“Maybe you should,” he said softly. You shook your head. He gave your hand another squeeze and brought you a little closer.
“I’m not - not after the last time I went,” you said, remembering everything that happened with Dr. Sullivan.
“Well then talk to me,” he said. You nodded and took a deep breath as you turned into the damp park.
“Okay. Well, the reason I couldn’t sleep is, well, I don’t think Aria has told you anything about what happened, but the rooms we stayed in - they looked exactly like our rooms at home.”
“Oh my god,” Mike said. You nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t tell Aria I to-”
“I won’t,” he said. “You can trust me.”
“I know,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’ve always known that.” He sighed and you brought up your head just so you could look at him.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re back. You have no idea how hard it was to find you,” he said.
“I believe it,” you said, shuddering, thinking back to the night you had tried to escape, and ended up stranded outside in the freezing cold.
“I’m sorry. I know it was hell on you.” You leaned your head against his shoulder again.
“Why were you there?” you asked. “How did you know we would escape that night?”
“We didn’t,” he said, shaking his head and putting his hand in his pocket. “We had just been looking for you every day. It just happens that we came by that day.”
“Every day?” you asked.
“Yeah. We all did everything we could to find you. We knew that you hadn’t run off. We weren’t going to give up on all of you.” You let go of his hand and wrapped your arm around his.
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you, too,” he said.
That night you returned home, and went back up to your room. You tried to go to sleep, telling yourself that you were safe. Telling yourself that if you went out the door, it wouldn’t be a dark hallway, it would be your parents’ room.
You eventually did fall asleep, but woke up a few minutes later. You woke up because someone downstairs made a sound, but when you woke up it was still that room. That place where so much pain happened. You crawled out of bed, ready to run into your parents’ bedroom, but when your hand touched the doorknob, your phone rang. You picked it up to hear heavy breathing on the other side.
“Hello?” you asked nervously.
“Hi. God, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Mike?” you asked, sitting back down at the edge of your bed.
“Yeah, sorry if I woke you.”
“No, don’t worry about it, I was already up. What’s wrong?”
“I had a nightmare.”
“Oh no, babe, what was it about?”
“You,” he said softly. You crawled back on your bed, holding a pillow in your arms.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you, but I dreamed about horrible things that would happen to you. I figured that once you were back I would stop having these dreams.”
“What happened in the dream?”
“You were kidnapped again,” he croaked out. You squeezed your arms and legs around the pillow.
“I just had a nightmare, too,” you said.
“Yeah, I woke up in this room again.” He sighed.
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked.
“No. Can you come pick me up?” you asked. “I don’t want to be in here anymore.”
“Yeah,” he said, and you could hear him moving around. “I’ll be there in a few.”
“Thanks. And Mike?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Can we move in together?” He laughed softly on the other side.
“Yes. I’ll see you in a few.”
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you, too.”
A month from that night, you and Mike moved in together. After decorating your apartment with nothing from your old room, you crawled into your bed. Mike crawled in a moment after you, and you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder.
“This is better,” Mike said.
“Yes it is,” you said, leaning up to kiss him. That night you both fell asleep, and woke up naturally in the morning, next to the person you loved most, and who loved you.
Michael’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the paper, searching around the field, counting each speckle, the sun beating down on him. A particularly muggy day had left him sweating in his long sleeve shirt, but the task at hand too important to give up now.
He thinks of his son, the sweet boy sitting in school, unaware of what’s going on right now, his head buried in a book, expanding his already ridiculously smart mind, likely to surpass both of his parents in that area.
Having taken on the role of proud dad, he saw his son’s accomplishments as something extraordinary, displaying his artwork on the fridge, and marveling at the fact while not in his life physically for the first seven years, he was still so much like him.
His looks, that he got from his mother, the auburn-ish hair, the dark eyes, but every once in a while he’d squint a certain way when he was concentrating, and suddenly the Scofield in him would make itself known.
It’s those big brown eyes that have him back to focusing on why he’s out here in the first place. He checks around him, making sure no one’s around to see, old habits of watching his back dying hard when it came to this.
But when he sees what he’s looking for, when it clicks, a conspiratorial grin comes to his face, spending a few moments to secure the package before making his way out of the diamond and back home.
It’s only when he’s safe in the comfort of his home, that he spreads out his legs underneath the coffee table, a display of pencils lining the table, his baby girl settled in his lap, squawking at him, slamming down her hands covered in her own slobber.
“What do you think, Isla?” He whispers into her soft hair, the dark locks falling into her eyes that look oddly familiar whenever he looks in the mirror. A sea of swirling blue that take on a green quality in the right light.
She slams down her hand again, getting the edge of the page wet and sticky. Setting his pencil down, he takes her little hand in between his thumb and pointer finger, the girl having wrapped him around her fingers since her birth and having refused to let her grip loosen even a little bit on his heart.
Sara comes to sit down by him, lowering herself to the floor. Her hands comes out to smooth the girl’s hair away from her eyes, and Isla throws herself back at Michael’s chest, his hand steadying her around the middle.
“Wild child, today,” she says with a grin, before pulling her own hair back behind her ears. “So were you successful?” She asks, meeting her question with his own grin.
“He’s going to have to start dumbing them down for me,” he says with a laugh.
A closed mouthed laugh, sounding more like a snort comes from her, her dimples peeking through.
“He’s good,” he proudly admits, his ego not even slightly bruised, so much as complimented that he helped create. “Like this,” he says, grabbing the paper from his pocket. “What do you think that is?”
Sara picks up the paper, twisting it around, before giving up.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says with another laugh, holding up her hand, stealing an M&M from from the little jar he has sitting on the table, raising a brow at him, and standing back up.
“Want me to take her?” She asks, but he shakes his head, determined to finish his work with his little helper. “Okay,” she acquiesces, leaning down to run her hand over his short hair, before placing a soft kiss to his head.
Mike walks in through the door ten minutes later, throwing his bag down, before rushing into the living room.
“So…did you find it yet?” He asks, immediately moving to crouch in front of Isla, reaching for his baby sister, before carefully putting her in his own lap.
Michael makes a show of digging in his pocket, producing half of the missing puzzle, a key, setting it on the table before them.
“Ahh, you’re halfway there,” Mike exclaims, eyes alight at the chase he’s sent his dad on.
Michael can’t help but see the irony of him searching for a key, once again, this time unable to figure out where and to what it belongs to.
Over the past year and a half, the maps had become more intricate, leading to multiple finds, and extending the search by days, secrets hidden in every line of the drawing, fake outs and designs disguising the answers.
Michael had thought for sure that Mike would’ve given up on the idea by now, wanting to quit in favor something else, the allure and new shine of having his dad around sure to fade eventually. But it hadn’t yet, instead, bringing them even closer.
It was their special thing. Even after Isla was born, he set time aside to not only figure out Mike’s maps, but to design his own, stretching muscles of his brain, keeping him fresh.
“You want me to show you?” Mike asks, his little face taking on the quiet, eager look that he often had when he looked at him, as if he’d stayed the dragon and hung the moon all at the same time.
“How about just a little hint…” He says in a quiet whisper, pretending he didn’t want Sara and Isla to hear that he needed help.
“Okay,” Mike says with a toothy smile, scooting closer with the baby to see the drawing he’d made. “See this right here,” he points, describing one part of the drawing, being careful not to give it all away.
As Michael listens to his son explain his masterpiece, one that he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, he can’t help but stare at the little boy. A gift he hadn’t been afforded for so long, but now had been given the privilege for the rest of his days. It was the one thing he’d thought about in solitary, what his son was like, what his interests were, was he like him or Sara or a mixture of the two, would he ever forgive him for being away so long? The questions had built up in his mind until the chorused on repeat over and over in his head.
And now, here he was, a couple years later, still mesmerized, still fascinated with a million questions about this boy.
The same boy now holding his baby sister, Michael’s heart only multiplying with love for another Scofield in his life.
“Dad?” Mike interrupts him, and bringing him out of his reverie, the title still giving him butterflies even after all this time.
“Are you even listening?” Mike asks with a raised brow, the gurgling baby reiterating his question.
“Every word, buddy,” he assures him. “I’m proud of you.”
“You always say that,” the boy admits with a smile and a shake of his head, resting his chin on Isla’s head.
“Because it’s true. I love you, Mike,” Michael says, not for the first time today, the codes ceasing to apply anymore, especially when it came to the love of his family. He reaches out and placing his hand on the back of his son’s head.
“I love you too, Dad,” Mike says with a laugh, like a given, no doubt about it, before going back to what he was saying about the map.
A flicker in Michael’s peripheral has him looking back, catching Sara standing in the doorway, resting her head against her hand balanced on the wall, an almost dreamy look on her face, waving to him with only a finger.
And Michael can’t help but nod in agreement, the disbelief over this being their life, having the ability to just be with his family more than he could’ve ever dreamt of, let alone expected to find.
Kevin: describes his family as “long gone“ and having not been “thrilled with having a freak for a son“
Cooper: not only are there no signs that anybody prior to the Tennysons and Kevin showing up has noticed him being missing
in Undercover, but there are at least 11 newspapers sitting on the front porch meaning that nobody has been there and able to pick them up. no indication is given that anything bad has happened to his parents.
Mike: lives alone, clearly has for a decent amount of time, describes his relationship with his mother and stepfather as “I don’t bother them, and they don’t bother me“
Malware: father stops work on repairing him to throw a hissy and go live as a hermit, when he returns still prioritizes other projects over him, and when he ‘dies’ donates his body to a museum to be used as a display that puts him on par with what had so-far been an entirely nonsentient group
I’m not saying that there might be a theme going with mutants on this show, except that I am
A/N: Here’s some Mike Dodds’ fluff that was requested! I’ll miss him terribly in the show :/ xx
“You should go to sleep.”
Mike’s voice was almost just a whisper, filled with fatigue and grogginess. It was nearly 3 AM, and you had trouble adjusting to the new feel of Mike’s apartment. The two of you had been dating for a couple months now, shy of six months. You eagerly awaited for Mike to come over to your apartment like usual, but when he texted you saying his work needed him later than usual you decided to just head over to his place. Everything in his apartment was neatly arranged, and it felt like you were tip toeing around.
You both were in his bed, bodies close and facing each other with his arm loosely wrapped around your waist as you run your hand through his hair. You could hear his soft breathing, and you couldn’t help to smile at the innocence he had while sleeping.
You leaned in closer, snuggling into him and kissing his nose. “I’m having trouble sleeping.”
Greetings my dear friends a new day is now here may this one find you well with loved ones near
This day we remember on our Memorial Day those who gave their all even as children play
It’s a very sorry sad affair this world ever at war I pray if we all learn to care it can yet be nevermore
Good morning everyone. Wishing all of you peace, joy, love, and copious quantities of caffeinated beverages (preferably coffee just to stir up a little trouble with a few of our wonderful tea drinking international friends). No hate mail please, I’m playing. ;) Now to use a rather ironic idiom on the day America remembers those who gave their all on Memorial Day, I’ve attempted to “kill two birds with one stone”. First, since she’s supposed to be on vacation, I tried to play substitute good morning poem writer for our dear friend Lauren, and second, speaking of dear friends, the Poe Reference is for Kevin (I hear he’s a fan) and everyone who has bravely served their country in the armed forces. I don’t claim to be an expert, but sadly for most lands, a military presence still seems to be a necessity. Enough? Okay, but since I haven’t done it in almost forever, I’ll close on this note. If no one’s told you yet today, let me be the very first to say…