It was pouring down. As soon as Mike woke up he could hear the rain thundering on his roof - and probably dripping down that outside wall which doubled up as one of the walls to his bathroom. A flash of lightning made him jump slightly; unaware it was an actual storm. Soon after, however, he heard the thunder rumble around his dingy apartment and he decided that he should get up.
It was one of those rare days in which he woke up in bed, rather than on the couch or - more frequently - at his desk. He had managed to finished the research Harvey had given him early, and had sloped to bed at about 2 am, realising he had nothing more to do. Remembering his finished work gave him a warm glow, and he beamed as he then remembered he had found something in the accounts of a firm that was suing their client - something he was sure Harvey would be very happy about.
Another flash of lightning and Mike's attention was drawn to the storm outside. The rain was coming down fast, and if the dark clouds were anything to go by, it wouldn't stop any time soon. He refused to have his mood dampened and tried to smile. Realising he was alone and smiling like a maniac in his bedroom, he quickly stopped and checked his clock. He had just over an hour and a half before it was deemed an acceptable time to be at work. He jumped in the shower as he calculated when to set off. Usually it would take just over 20 minutes on his bike from his apartment to Pearson Hardman, but with this weather he should plan for an extra good 10 minutes. He would be going slowly. Better to arrive late than in an ambulance.
He finished in the shower and shaved; not that there was much. He usually did it most mornings - mostly on Harvey's insistence, or failing that; Donna's pointed looks at his face. He even had time to iron his shirt. He almost never did that. Turning up in a wrinkled shirt and jacket was what was now expected of him. He had a small idea that Harvey enjoyed looking him up and down and being able to point out faults with his appearance.
The thunder rumbled even more loudly just as Mike put down a large bucket underneath the dripping spot in his bathroom and prayed he'd be able to slip away at some point to change the bucket before it spilled out and all over his floor. He sighed and mentally made a check list in his head to either get his landlord to look at the leak or just buy a new place. Harvey's place was nice... why didn't he have a place like Harvey's?
Amending his list as he looked in his wallet, Mike thought he should earn more money before buying a new place. He scowled as he noticed he didn't even have enough for a taxi. He had decided whilst ironing it would be stupid to go to all this trouble and bike to work, which would mean he would get drenched. So he had thought he could just get a taxi. He felt stupid now.
Deciding there would be no way he could get to work dry, he came to a conclusion. If he set off now, he might be able to get dry in the bathrooms before Harvey, Louis, Donna, Rachel or Jessica saw him. Sure, the other associates would see, but he couldn't care less about their opinions. They were just sour that none of them were hand-picked to be the associate of Harvey Specter. Well - that's what he liked to think.
He stuffed his jacket into his bag; reasoning that at least it would keep the paperwork underneath it dry, as well as an extra shirt. There was no way his jacket could get dry before everyone turned up, so instead he decided to bike in one of his old hoodies. He doubted very much that security would let him through the door if he was wearing that and dripping wet, but he had no other alternative.
God, this was bad. This was really bad. He knew he had a high IQ, his grandmother had gotten him tested at some point in high school, and yet it didn't seem to have stopped him making one of the - at the time, it seemed - biggest mistakes of his life. He should've just called Harvey and begged for Ray to come pick him up. Hell, he would've accepted a ride off Louis, but no. He decided to be eco-friendly and bike.
No one should ever become that wet, he thought hazily, wishing he'd brought an extra pair of shoes. He was definitely going to get trench foot.
The rain seemed to be pelting him specifically, and he was getting a headache as he heard it constantly battering the top of his helmet. His hands were seizing up from the cold, which was really bad, as it stopped him pulling the brakes when he should.
His original plan to bike slowly had been abandoned as he pushed his bike with all his might in order to get to work sooner. Because of this, he was dangerously swerving and skidding all over the place, and the rain was running down his face and into his eyes, causing him to be constantly reaching up and rubbing a hand over his face.
Suddenly, a squeal of brakes signalled something dangerous approaching him so he too clamped down on his brakes, swerving off to the side. He couldn't see where the car was coming from, and just hoped he was moving to avoid it.
The hood slammed into his bike, and while it didn't hit him, it caused the bike to slam to a halt and for him to flip over the front, onto the hood of the car and then over to the other side, skinning all the way down both of his palms and his knees. Rather than the usual response of, Ow, oh my god I was just hit by a car, Mike was instead thinking both, I don't think anything's broken which means I can keep going, and Harvey will kill me when he sees this suit.
"Jeeze, man, I'm sorry - I didn't see you! The rain, ya know? My wipers were going like the clappers and it wasn't enough! You okay?"
Mike groaned in response, but then felt it polite to assure the driver he was alright. "It's fine, you only clipped the bike. And I'm wearing a helmet," he added, personally adding one to his score on the Mike .v. Harvey board he had in his head. "That counts for something."
Was he making any sense?
"Your hands are pretty messed up," the driver told him, concern in his voice. "You sure I can't call an ambulance? Or, uh - do you want me to call the police?" The scared tone of his voice made Mike pity the man.
"Don't worry about it - neither of us could see, it wasn't anyone's fault. And I'm fine - nothing's broken and I'm going to be late if I don't go now, so..." he tailed off, but wasn't sure if the driver had heard his last couple of words. They had been basically yelling anyway, trying to be heard over the storm.
Without warning, Mike picked up his bike and pulled it up, wincing as something pulled in his hand. "I'm fine," he assured the nervous driver again, before clambering back on his bike and speeding off, biting his lip to stop crying out in pain from the burning sensation in his knees.
He finally reached Pearson Hardman and quickly got off his bike. He cursed as he realised the lock was at the bottom of his bag, and there was no way he was getting any of the essentials in there wet. He just abandoned it. If someone wanted it they could take it, he thought sourly. It had given him enough grief today.
He finally, finally got inside and felt enormous relief taking his helmet off. He was only a few steps away from shaking himself down like a dog before realising that once again he was late. Only by five minutes, but it would be just his luck if Harvey or Louis were already in.
He groaned and flashed his card to the desk, hurrying into an elevator and pretending he didn't notice the other people in there edging away from him as he dripped a steady pool of rainwater around himself. When he got out he dived for the bathrooms that were mercifully empty.
He just took his shirt off right there and then. Well, he had to peel it off, and winced with how heavy it was with the amount of moisture it had soaked up. He scrabbled around in his bag and got his clean, wrinkled yet dry shirt out. Before putting it on, he hurriedly grabbed loads of toilet paper and tried to dry himself down, before resorting to pushing parts of his anatomy underneath the hand dryers. He pulled his new shirt on, and the dry tie he had also grabbed and stuffed in his bag.
He was just tying it when Gregory walked in and paused, taking in the sight of Mike with an amused expression that would not be out of place on a school bully seeing the class nerd walking to school on their own. "Hey, Ross," he drawled, making a pointed glance towards Mike's soaking pants, shoes and shirt. "Someone have fun coming to work this morning?"
"You know, Gregory," Mike replied tiredly, putting his jacket on and wincing as his palms brushed against the material, "I would love to stand here and chat, but I have to give this research to Harvey and I'm already late - so, if you wouldn't mind?" He grabbed his bag and wet shirt and pushed past the other associate.
When he got to his desk he sat at his chair, intending to only stay there long enough to grab some files and go to Harvey's office. However, when he bent his knees he felt a searing pain, and when he dropped his bag and shirt down and tried to pull his research out of his bag his hands started to hurt as well.
He gave a muted cry of pain and stretched his legs out, gently placing the files on his desk. He really didn't want to get up now. Maybe if he just sat there and looked at his computer screen, everyone would ignore him and think he was doing work.
Just as he thought this, a message appeared on his screen. He frowned when he saw it was from Donna. Donna never messaged him. Even if it was because Harvey wanted him, it was usually Harvey who messaged.
He clicked it open and saw that Harvey did indeed want him. In fact, Harvey was furious he wasn't in there 10 minutes ago. Groaning he slowly got to his feet, gathering his files together, and began the seemingly mile-long walk to Harvey's office.
"How mad is he?" Mike asked pathetically as he came upon Donna.
"Considering the fact that he saw you arrive and then waited for you to come directly here..." she left it hanging slightly, her eyebrows raised. "I'd say quite mad."
Mike closed his eyes for a second before nodding and opening them. "Alright. Wish me luck," as expected, he got no reply, and so walked to the door, deciding to try and appease his boss slightly by knocking first.
"I got that research done, and - " he didn't get any further, as Harvey surveyed him with such a cool stare that Mike wished he was back in the rain. He squirmed uncomfortably, and hoped Harvey hadn't heard the slight squelch of his shoes or the damp patches from Mike's still wringing wet hair trickling down his jacket.
"Why wasn't it in here when I asked for it to be in here?" He asked in a very calm voice.
"I had to bike in, and it took longer, because of the storm - " Mike tried to explain.
"So why didn't you set off earlier?"
Mike felt anger rise up inside him, but tried to stay calm. "I did. But it was raining harder than I thought it was, and then - "
"Then what?" Harvey asked, standing up and holding his hand out for the files. "You were mugged? You got stopped by a curvy blonde asking for directions? You drowned?"
"Nearly," he muttered, looking at the still bouncing rain outside.
"They aren't good enough excuses," Harvey told him, reading through his research. "When I tell you to come on time, you do - remember my puppy analogy?"
"It's not really hard to forget," Mike answered through gritted teeth.
"After being house broken - which we apparently need to work on," he said, glancing down at Mike's still sodden pants and shoes, "comes the basic instructions. 'Come' being a main one. If you don't come when I say, what's the point of having a puppy?"
"Because Johnson's company is bankrupt and they were granted a loan by another company last month in exchange for helping get their drugs onto the market," Mike told him, nodding down to his research. "Our client's claim that their drugs don't work is only being met with a law suit because if their drug gets shelved, they go back into bankruptcy," he gave a proud smile reminiscent of a child saying lookit-what-I-found-for-you-dad and was met with an almost smile from Harvey.
"Look at that - maybe I don't need to send a letter to the adoption centre after all," he smirked, before finally noticing Mike's ripped pants. "What happened to your knees?"
"It's slippery outside," he answered, slowly hiding his palms in his pockets. "I fell off my bike," he didn't want anymore snide comments about his clumsiness or something about puppies and him on his hands and knees so he didn't feel the need to tell Harvey what happened. He'd only skinned his palms and knees, after all.
"Did you not bring a fresh pair?" Harvey asked, in an I-really-don't-care-about-your-wellbeing-but-you-need-to-look-good tone as he sat back down at his desk.
"It wouldn't fit in my bag," Mike replied in a weary tone, pulling at his hastily tied tie. "Can I-?"
"No," Harvey replied.
"You didn't even - "
"Donna - he's not allowed to take my spare suit again!" Harvey yelled rather than pressing the button like any sane boss. Mike saw the receptionist nod absentmindedly.
"Come on, Harvey, I'm going to catch pneumonia!"
"Whatever you may see on television," Harvey said, gathering some papers to drop into Mike's hands, "I doubt that just being cold actually makes you get a cold," with that he gave Mike the paperwork, as the associate had to slowly take his hand back out of his pockets and it took all of his willpower not to hiss as the files scratched over his already shredded palms.
He waited until he was out of the office before hastily turning them over to check he hadn't gotten blood on them.
Mike sat and shivered in his seat, cursing Harvey's karma-inducing 'being cold doesn't make you get a cold' speech. He wasn't sure if he was actually cold or running a fever. He was definitely feeling strange. At least he'd finished his paperwork. Or had he? It was all moving around gently in front of him, and he was glad no one was paying him any attention, as his stare at his work, the brightness of his eyes and the odd, amused smile on his face would no doubt warrant another drugs test.
He knew he would be beat it, he'd been clean for a while, and Louis had no reason to order him to take another one. Still, if Harvey -
"Mike, we've got to meet with the client in half an hour," aw crap. "So you had better..." Harvey broke off, glancing at his associate's face. He was flushed, and the spaced look in his eyes made Harvey very angry. "My office," he growled, practically tugging Mike off his seat and pulling him down the corridor, whilst the other associates pretended to look away.
"Harvey, you're hurting me," Mike whined, waving blearily at Donna, who looked shocked and craned her neck to watch what was happening in the office.
"What did you take?" Harvey asked dangerously, pushing Mike onto the couch.
"Take?" Mike asked, his vision going fuzzy around the edges.
"You look high - give me one reason I shouldn't fire you right now," Harvey growled.
"B'cause I think I'm going to pass out..." Mike mumbled, sure enough sliding down the couch as his eyes rolled back.
Harvey was stunned, and his first reaction was to glance over at Donna, who promptly walked in, glad to be able to get involved. "What do we do?" He asked her. Sure, he was her boss, but he didn't know everything.
However, she shrugged. "Try and wake him up. Are you sure he took something?" She asked sceptically. She'd heard about the other time, but also knew that Louis made him do it in some way, and she also knew that Mike hadn't had any interaction with Louis today, and he had definitely not been high when she had first seen him that morning.
"How else do you explain how flushed he is?" Harvey asked, shaking Mike slightly.
Donna went to check his pulse and stopped, finding his torn hands. The wound clearly hadn't been attended to - hadn't even been thought about, and it was red and hot to the touch; much like Mike. "I'm guessing his little shower coming here this morning, and an infection," she told him, holding up his hand to show Harvey.
She saw a look of guilt and horror cross his face, and he quickly looked down at Mike's knees, not surprised to find the same thing there. "Should we take him to the hospital?" Harvey asked, and Donna was surprised to hear such a worried tone come from him. He only cared about himself, after all.
"Maybe we should try and wake him up first," she suggested. "Want some water?" She asked semi-gleefully, not wanting to miss out on pouring water all over the kid.
Although Harvey understood what she meant and his lips twitched in amusement, he shook his head. "Mike," he said forcefully. "Mike."
Mike stirred, feeling someone shaking him. "G'way," he moaned.
"No can do, kid - we have an appointment," Harvey said, looking at Donna with 'cancel it' face. She nodded and took out her phone, withdrawing to the other side of the room while she called their client to reschedule.
Mike, on the other hand, tried to leap up. "Right, 'm sorry, H'rvey - I'll get 'm bag 'n - "
"Sorry, Mike - you're not going anywhere," Harvey told him, pushing him back down on the couch. "Looks like you have an infection - and you probably caught something from biking here in the rain. What were you thinking?"
"Was goin' to ask f'r a ride fr'm Ray," he mumbled, gazing at his hands curiously. "But didn' wanna impose..."
Harvey raised an eyebrow. The kid was always walking into his office without making his presence known until he was nearly at the desk. Didn't want to impose? "Kid, if the weather's like this another time - if you don't call Ray and ask for a lift - I'll fire you. Got it?" Mike stared at him, not sure what to think, but nodded hazily.
"I need to get back to work," Mike told him, pushing Harvey's hands away and getting off the couch. He swayed alarmingly, causing Harvey to reach out and steady him.
"Donna - cancel all my appointments for today," Harvey told her, pulling Mike towards the elevators. She pulled a face at him but grimly pulled out his planner, not looking forward to rescheduling four clients.
"I need my bag," Mike mumbled to him, propping himself up on the bar attached to the wall in the elevator. "'s got m' keys in it..."
"Well that's great, kid," Harvey said, taking out an umbrella Mike hadn't noticed him carrying as they got outside. "But I'm not sending you to that crappy apartment if you're sick. What good is a dead associate?"
"Better than a dead puppy?" Mike asked, not really sure what he was saying anymore.
However, Harvey chuckled, so maybe he said something right. "It's worse than a dead puppy; there are way more forms to fill out if an associate dies."
"So where 're we goin'"? Mike asked, not noticing how much he was pushing himself next to Harvey so that he could stay firmly underneath the umbrella.
"My place," Harvey told him grimly, hailing a cab. He couldn't be bothered waiting for Ray to come round, so it was quicker to just get a taxi.
"Oh," Mike responded, pulling a face. "Why?"
"Because you're an idiot," was the answer he got. And he had to be content with that.
Mike woke up with a very fuzzy head. Could heads be fuzzy? He assumed so, as it was the only way to describe his. He had again woken up in bed. God he loved his bed. With it's king size status, silk covers and...
Wait.
His bed was definitely not this big. Nor did it have silk covers. He sat up and gazed around. It was a very tasteful room. There were some artistic pictures on the walls, and a large one on the wall opposite him with a black and white skyline of New York on it. It was definitely not his room. He couldn't afford artwork; all he had was a picture of him and Grammy when he was about 10 and an old, crumpled one of his parents.
A light went on in his head as he remembered Harvey taking him back to his place yesterday. Today? He wasn't sure what day it was. But he was feeling better. He glanced down at his hands, wanting to see what damage he had done, and was surprised to find them neatly bandaged, as were his knees. He was wearing expensive pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt that was too big for him. He felt like a kid dressing up in their parents' clothes.
Speaking of...
He looked everywhere and finally decided that Harvey wasn't here. He must have slept on the couch, as there was a blanket and pillow there. It looked comfortable though. In fact, it looked better than his own bed at home.
He opened the fridge, convincing himself that Harvey wouldn't mind if he took something to eat or drink. There was a note inside, which he took. He wrinkled his nose as he read it:
If I don't smell orange juice or this funny-looking soup that Donna brought round on you by the time you come in - probably late again - then you'll be Louis' punching bag for a month.
Good to know he cared at least. Mike obeyed and poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed it, wondering when the last time he drank anything was. He found the 'funny-looking soup' and, after a cautious smell, determined it to be chicken soup. He put it in the microwave and fished around in some of the cupboard for cutlery. He found another note sitting on top of the bowls:
Painkillers and some antibiotics Donna picked up from the doctors are in the third cupboard on the left of the fridge. CAREFUL with the handle - it's been feeling loose and will cost more to replace than you will.
Mike snorted but realised he would at least need to take the antibiotics. Finding the cap already unscrewed, he figured he'd taken some last night. Probably why he was feeling better. Or, if the state of the t-shirt was anything to go by, his fever broke last night.
A small feeling of dread washed over him. He hoped Harvey hadn't been privy to his fever. Last time he had one this bad, he'd yelled out all sorts. Crying for his parents, his grammy. Trevor never said anything about it, but he treated him differently for a while after that. More gentle. He shuddered to think what he had said this time.
The microwave went off with a beep, causing Mike to shake the thoughts from his head and enjoy the soup Donna had brought round. He made a mental note in his head to stop off at a flower shop before going into work. The soup was almost better than sex.
He finished it off and put the bowl into the dishwasher. Finding other bowls and cutlery in there, he just added it with them. He'd never had a dishwasher, but he found that Harvey didn't even own any washing-up liquid, so he couldn't do them by hand. He figured he should probably go in soon, or his workload would stop him from ever waking up in a bed again. He took the painkillers and antibiotics and carried them with him to the bedroom. He searched everywhere for his clothes but couldn't find them anywhere.
Giving up, he opened the closet, rolling his eyes to find yet another note:
Your clothes are at my dry cleaners - do you even own an iron? You can borrow one of my suits - if it's a three piece you had better damn well wear the vest.
Determined not to wear a vest - he had already gotten a bit of stick from the other associates for trying to look like Harvey; come on, he'd worn his hair slicked back once! - he looked through the wardrobe and found one that didn't appear to have a vest next to it. He pulled it on, cursing the fact that Harvey had more muscle and was taller. He quickly pulled the tie on and was just wondering how he was getting to work when he found one more note on the door:
You walk or try and bike and I will have your ass for all eternity. CALL RAY. P.S you come in before 9 and LOUIS will have your ass for all eternity.
Aw. Now he was ordering him to not show up on time? If that wasn't caring, Mike didn't know what was. He pulled out his phone to call the number Harvey had scribbled down and ask Ray extremely politely if he wouldn't mind coming to get him from Harvey's place. No questions were asked, so he assumed Ray had been told ahead of time why he was there.
Not a minute later there was a knock on the door, and Mike was faced with a smiling driver, who politely passed him some coffee, took the bowl of soup out of his hands and took him to the car.
Later that day, after Harvey got back from a meeting, he was surprised to find Donna sat at her desk, beaming and smelling a large bunch of chrysanthemums.
"You having an affair I don't know about?" He asked, looking amused.
"Mike liked my soup," she said happily, before turning very stern. "Don't think I haven't forgotten what you said about it when I dropped it off last night."
Harvey pretended he hadn't heard her and asked: "So he's in?"
She nodded. "Left something on your desk and headed to his cubicle," she took a moment more to smell her flowers and then went back to her work.
Harvey went into his office, curious as to what Mike had left. He smirked as he sat down:
Harvey, those notes were a little over the top. I was surprised not to find one in the bathroom. But thanks - I wanted to put those pyjamas in the wash but you don't seem to possess a washing machine - why is that? You're rich enough :/
Harvey smiled at the emoticon which usually appeared in texts.
...and I don't know if Donna likes chrysanthemums, but my Gram always said they mean cheerfulness and good friendship. I couldn't find any that just said thanks. I've got some files I think you need to see, or sign... something - but Louis is breathing down my neck while I'm writing this; is it just me or is that not right? You're technically his superior right? Can't you tell him off or something? Anyways - thanks for letting me crash at yours. Do you even own a suit that isn't a three piece? 'Cause I thought the one I'm wearing wasn't, so I didn't wear a vest, but Louis laughed a bit and now I'm not sure...
Harvey chuckled at how the kid babbled, even in writing.
... so yeah, please don't feed me to him for not wearing a vest; cause - seriously? O.o And I think someone stole my bike. Is there a budget or something we're allowed to take money out of to requisition stuff? 'Cause I'm going to have to catch a lift with you everyday if I can't afford a new one. P.S. I introduced Ray to the AWESOME world of 70's rock. You're welcome.
Harvey started to laugh. He didn't mind 70's rock that much.
But just to be sure, he started checking online for bike prices.