Mike's parents were dead. This was common knowledge. Maybe not to the other associates, and many of the partners and paralegals in the firm who only had fleeting moments of contact with him - but the people who mattered knew.
Rachel knew the only relative he talked about is his grandmother. She knew that he was quiet when the other associates were happily discussing their holidays, when all he was going to do was see his grandmother for a few hours before going to a bar.
Harvey knew he lived with his grandmother for most of his life. He knew he let Mike leave one day a year early for the kid to visit a cemetery. He knew Mike had lost his parents at 7. He didn't know how they died, and to be perfectly honest he didn't really know how to bring it up in conversation - and wasn't altogether sure he wanted to find out.
Donna knew.
Jessica now knew.
Jenny knew most of it.
Trevor knew everything.
You wouldn't really guess that he'd lost his parents young, unless he actually told you. Of course he was still influenced by their deaths, and of course they still affected him, but he saw no point in dragging his past into his new life.
However, there were some things that he had never really noticed had impacted on his life so much until recently.
Or - to be more precise - until someone actually gave a damn.
- 1 -
It was 7 in the morning and Mike been asleep for a whole hour on Harvey's couch - which was surprisingly uncomfortable considering how much the man had no doubt paid for it.
Harvey had called him round to find a discrepancy in some files that he had taken back with him - clearly thinking it wasn't his problem and that he shouldn't take them into work where Mike still was - that in fact, Mike should bike over to his in the middle of the night.
"Couldn't this have waited?" He had moaned. "Till an hour that humans actually recognise?"
All that had earned him was a glare, a short speech about having to work to get to the big leagues and then some files thrust in his hands. Harvey had worked until about 3 in the morning, before sighing and rubbing at his hair.
"I'm going to bed," Harvey told him.
"Does that mean I can too?" Mike ventured, looking forward to curling up in his own bed.
In response he was thrown a blanket and a gruff, "We're leaving at 8 in the morning," before Harvey left the room.
Trying to keep the wide grin off his face that meant 'Harvey Specter cares', Mike started looking through other files. He knew there was something; and was determined not to give up - if only because he wanted to show it to Harvey in the morning with a good dose of gloating.
Finally - finally he found what they were looking for, and almost immediately passed out sprawled on the couch, clutching the relevant page to his chest.
This was fine with him, until he was woken up an hour later by Harvey very graciously prodding him in the side on his way to his kitchen bar. Mike leapt out of sleep and fell onto the floor, still holding the page he had found.
"Are you always this graceful getting out of bed, or was I particularly blessed today?" Harvey asked, his eyebrow quirked as he watched Mike gather himself together.
"Hilarious," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes before offering the paper. "Here," he said, waiting until Harvey took the proffered page before instantly homing in on his coffee machine.
"You found it?" Harvey asked, surprise easily tinting his voice.
"Oh thank you," Mike bent tiredly, pretending to bow and accept applause, "thank you so much," he soon straightened and fixed Harvey with a stare. "You don't have to sound so grateful."
"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot you just did your job," Harvey said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, you gave up!" Mike reminded him. "I kept working - you know how much sleep I got?" He checked his watch (and Harvey kept meaning to ask if he always wore it backwards or if it was just when he was tired). "An hour. That's how long it took me to do my job - I got an hour's sleep."
"Remind me to take a note that you get hysterical when you haven't had any sleep," Harvey muttered, feeling an early headache already setting in.
"This isn't hysteria, Harvey!" Mike argued. "This is asking for maybe just a little appreciation and awareness of the fact that I. Am. Awesome."
"Sure you are, Iron Man," Harvey rolled his eyes. "Go tidy yourself up, I'm not going to walk in with a hobo."
"Huh?"
Way to go, Mike - intelligible as always.
Harvey gestured to his face. "Stubble, Mike. It can work on some people but on you," he pulled a face,"you look like a 16 year old trying to grow a beard. Badly. Go shave."
"'Go shave'," Mike mocked, glancing over at Harvey. "I'll have you know that I had some girlfriends who thought my stubble was sexy."
"Just shave."
Mike grumbled but walked into the bathroom, finding Harvey's razor and quickly scraping over his skin and quickly rinsing his face before walking back out. "Do I look less like a hobo now?"
Harvey eyed him and sighed. "Less hobo, more zombie that hasn't had time to shave. Get back in there," he commanded, putting his coffee cup down on the counter top.
"Harvey, I don't need a lesson in shaving," Mike said tiredly, still shuffling back to the bathroom.
"Hop onto the counter," Harvey told him. "Let me show you how an adult shaves."
"Harvey I can do it myself," Mike protested, although he didn't move when Harvey got closer, standing against Mike's legs and opening the tube of shaving gel. "Harvey, seriously - "
"Open your mouth again and I'll be making you eat this for breakfast," Harvey mumbled as he concentrated on getting a smooth finish of foam all around Mike's face.
Mike stared at Harvey for a second, remembering a time when he was about 4, after wandering in on his father shaving and curiously going to touch the foam surrounding his face.
Daddy laughed and grabbed him underneath the armpits, sitting him on the bench next to the sink before grabbing the the shaving gel. "You want to shave like your old man?" He asked, putting a blob on Mike's nose.
Mike giggled and nodded, asking endless questions about what the foam did and why he was doing it and what was shaving and when could he do it?
"Easy, Mikey," Daddy hushed him. "You keep opening your mouth and you'll end up eating the foam," he laughed as he put the finishing touches on Mike's face. "There you go, sport. Look at that big white beard!" He laughed, pointing at Mike's reflection in the mirror. "Guess you definitely need to shave now, huh?"
He lifted Mike down and let him pretend to shave, eventually taking all the foam off with some tissue before ruffling his head.
"That'll do."
"Huh?"
"I said that'll do," Harvey said, rubbing at his hands with a towel. "I'd suggest looking for a job in whatever dream world you went off in if you can't figure out how to shave by next week."
"I can shave!" Mike defended himself.
"Sure you can. That's why I had to do it for you," Harvey said snarkily. "Were you never taught how to? Do we need to have 'The Talk' as well? Because we'll be late for work and I don't need you thinking about the birds and the bees when you should be thinking about the work."
"You're a dick," Mike grumbled, rubbing at his face with a towel to get rid of any lasting foam.
"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that - but only because you found my discrepancy," Harvey said generously. He took the towel off Mike and walked out the room, leaving the associate alone with his thoughts.
Technically, Mike hadn't been taught to shave. He had watched his dad do it, and had a basic understanding of the principle. He had bought some gel and a razor when he noticed he was finally growing facial hair but at 15 his pride stopped him from asking Trevor what exactly to do.
It wasn't rocket science - he could easily shave normally and it was probably only tiredness that made his hand lazy - but apparently his technique wasn't that good.
He didn't want to ask his Grammy, and there had never been a situation in which he could bring it up in conversation and ask Trevor, even if he wanted to.
He just... never had his dad to teach him. His parents had died when he was young and he had never given it much thought (apart from the obvious). He guessed that there had been a lot of things he'd missed out on.
And he had had the talk, he assured himself. Grammy's was basic and 'you should be married before you even start thinking about that, but I know what teenage boys are like - be careful' and Trevor was more than happy to impart his wisdom; and they'd had sex ed.
His dad had never been there to offer advice on girls in general. Grammy was from a different generation of girls, she couldn't offer much advice that he could rely on, and Trevor's was... Trevor's wasn't so great.
"Mike if you fall asleep in my bathroom I'll take a picture and then fire you!"
The call came from the main room and Mike rolled his eyes, going out to gather his papers and put his jacket on.
Harvey gave him a once over and winced slightly. "You look even younger without the stubble."
"Doesn't everyone?" Mike asked.
"You looked like a teenager with the stubble," Harvey kindly informed him. "What are you now, 8?"
"What are you, my mom?" Mike shot back.
"My mistake, I realise you're older than that," Harvey retorted. "13, is it?"
Mike threw a cushion at him.
- 2 -
There was another slightly embarrassing incident a few days after this, making Mike yet again only too aware of his orphaned status.
"Catch," Harvey said, throwing one of his baseballs at Mike.
The kid fumbled and ultimately dropped the ball, flushing as he bent to get it.
"Okay, that doesn't really instil the faith I would like to have in you for this," Harvey said, strolling closer and holding his hand out for the ball to be returned.
"For what?" Mike asked, slightly on edge and watching Harvey through narrowed eyes as if he would suddenly throw another one.
"A new client is wanting to meet us at a park," Harvey told him.
"... And we're going to engage in a competitive game of catch?" Mike asked, confused.
Harvey sat at his desk, rolling his eyes. "No, you idiot. I'm going to get the details on the case."
"And I'm..."
"And you're going to play catch with his six year old son." Harvey didn't show it, but he was surprised (and slightly worried) at the way Mike's face just went white. Harvey could only imagine how it would feel; the blood rushing out of his face.
"Woah," Harvey quickly got out of his seat and went over to Mike, pushing him down to sit on the couch. "Do not pass out on me," he ordered. "I am not going to be shown up by a first year associate being unconscious on my floor."
"I'm not going to pass out," Mike insisted, pushing Harvey away.
"Good," Harvey stood up, buttoning his jacket. "Because an associate whose lip wobbles when he's told to play catch isn't the kind of associate I want."
Mike grumbled at him and glanced down at his lap, knowing full well that Harvey was still watching him with uncertainty.
He never usually had that bad a reaction to something as trivial as this - but knowing that his lack of confidence and never being taught how to play catch properly would be demonstrated in front of Harvey of all people... it wasn't good.
Again - as with the shaving thing - it wasn't like he just didn't know how to or had never been taught how to play catch.
He'd just never had his dad teach him.
He'd been young when his parents had died, and while he had never been ignored as a child - the complete opposite in fact, his parents constantly smothered him in affection; being an only child had it's perks - his dad had never quite gotten round to playing catch with him
Early in life, after his parents had died he would be filled with a passionate ache (that could end with tears if he didn't leave quickly) whenever he saw kids in the park playing with their fathers. It just hadn't seemed fair that they got to keep that paternal love and support when all he had was his Grammy - who he loved more than anyone else alive - who was already starting to get arthritis in her hands, shoulders, arms and hips, and so couldn't play ball with him.
Trevor did. Sometimes they played with Trevor's dad (before he got sent to prison for assault) and even through college he and Trevor sometimes had the time to toss a ball around in the park.
"Earth to Mike," Harvey said, rapping him on the head slightly with his knuckles.
"What?"
"Are you ready to go? And please don't lose to a six year old child," Harvey told him smartly.
"I... I'm not really... I can't..."
"Spit it out, Mike."
"I never really... what do I do?"
Harvey rolled his eye. "It's simple. You throw the ball," he said slowly as if he thought Mike was stupid. Which was very possible. "And then he catches it. Then he throws it back. And you catch it. I know, there are a lot of rules but hopefully you'll pick it up fairly quickly."
"I'm really not that great at catching stuff - how about you do it instead? Or... or this kid's dad can play with him; he should be good at it right? I mean, kids play catch with their dads every day, don't they?"
Harvey frowned. That had sounded like a genuine question. As if he really didn't know what kids and their dads do...
Ah.
Shit.
Harvey sighed and walked to the other end of his office. "Go stand in that corner."
"I... what?"
"Stand in that corner."
"You're giving me a time-out?"
Harvey rolled his eyes so Mike quickly hastened to obey.
"Standing in the corner."
"Right. Just keep your eye on the ball," he waved the sports equipment. "When I throw it. You catch it. Got it?"
"I'm not an idiot, Harvey," Mike said, although it was very strained.
"Good to know," Harvey threw the ball without warning, and Mike quickly managed to catch it - surprising seeing as he had missed the first time Harvey had thrown it. "Good. Now back to me."
Mike flushed but threw it back. Harvey easily caught it. "You want to put a bit more force into it, or it'll just fall to the ground before reaching the other person."
Mike nodded and he had that look on his face that Harvey knew meant he was filing that small piece of information away to be remembered forever. Harvey threw the ball back and Mike just missed it.
"Keep your eye on it, Mike," Harvey instructed. Mike nodded and threw it back, this time putting more force behind it. "Good. Although it keeps veering off to the right," Harvey told him. "Try to throw it more towards me."
He threw it back and Mike easily caught it, throwing back quickly. Harvey watched his technique whilst catching it, nodding. "You're flicking your wrist too much, kid. Just loosen up a bit and throw it normally."
Mike nodded and soon they were just throwing the ball back and forth, only a few, 'good's and 'better's being said as they did it.
Donna had been immersed in her work and so hadn't paid them much attention until Louis was stood at her desk. "Just what, exactly," he said slowly, "is Harvey thinking? He's supposed to be meeting with Mr. Andrews and he's just... playing," he spat. "I knew Jessica should have given me this client, I - "
"Louis, if you don't leave soon I'll be forced to tell Harvey that you broke Mike's bike chain," she said evenly as she typed.
"What? That is both untrue and irrelevant! And hardly a threat - you could do better," he told her.
"Really?" She finally looked up. "Take a look in the there," she nodded towards the office where Harvey was smirking slightly as Mike laughed openly, throwing a ball to each other. "You think he'd take it lightly if Mike fell off his bike because somebody broke the chain?"
Louis faltered slightly. "But the meeting - "
"Will be going ahead, Louis - now calm down and leave now."
Louis nodded and quickly left, not really sure of what had just happened.
- 3 -
"I really need to pack," Mike muttered to himself as he looked around his apartment. "And now I'm talking to myself," he sighed, throwing himself down onto the couch.
Harvey had told him that they were going to visit a client in Las Vegas and that he had to have a weekend bag, ready and packed by the time he got there so they could go straight to the airport.
He didn't even know where to start. He didn't have a suitcase or a big bag, he'd never been on any weekends away - never been on holiday, had never had his parents pack a bag for him to go to a sleepover.
And again he was thinking of his parents! He'd been doing that a lot lately - since he'd started at the firm he'd kept finding small things that didn't really matter and just thinking how different it would have been, had his Mom and Dad not died.
A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. He leapt up to answer it, shocked to see Harvey stood in front of him.
"What are you doing here?"
Harvey frowned. "Okay, that's reassuring."
"What did I forget?" Mike asked, his eyes widening.
"Little thing called weekend trip to Las Vegas?" Harvey reminded him. "Meeting a client?"
"You..." Mike tailed off. "I thought that was tomorrow!"
"Today, Mike," Harvey grumbled, pushing past him into his apartment. "Today. I'm assuming that means you haven't packed?"
"I... was about to start," Mike said lamely.
"Yeah. Sure you were. Bedroom this way?" He asked, walking in anyway.
Mike flew after him, shocked to see Harvey pulling clothes out from his wardrobe. "What are you doing?"
"Packing for you, genius. Look, go find me a bag to put this in." Mike hovered, looking confused. Harvey rolled his eyes. "Okay, junior, you're obviously still tired. Do me a favour and pretend Daddy needs you out of the way so he can pack your bag for Summer Camp."
Mike blinked at him.
"Get out of my way, Mike."
"Aye, Captain," Mike quickly went into his bathroom, breathing deeply. Obviously Harvey wanted them gone quickly so he was doing the packing, but...
All of the things Harvey was doing was unnerving Mike slightly. Reminding him too much of the past and constantly shoving in his face what he could have had if his parents were still alive. For the first time in years, just thinking about them made his eyes prick as he imagined just calling them and telling them all about his job - telling them what Harvey had done that week, or asking how Grammy was, or telling them about Rachel and asking to speak his Dad about it while his Mom smiled knowingly on the other end.
"Mike, we're going now. You've already wasted ten minutes of my life folding your pathetic clothes into a hold-all, I don't need to waste more time while you hyperventilate over there being a handsome man in your bedroom."
Mike snorted wetly and hastily wiped his eyes before leaving the room. "You wish," he retorted weakly. "And you folded my clothes?"
"What? I'm not going to just shove them in there to get creased. I bet you don't even own an iron."
"I definitely don't own a hold-all," Mike told him, holding the bag Harvey had thrown at him.
"I didn't think you did," Harvey rolled his eyes. "So I brought my own."
"You're unbelievable," Mike shook his head, without question following Harvey out of his apartment and locking the door behind him.
They were halfway to the airport when Mike suddenly realised he should have checked the bag. The clothes were perfectly folded and tucked in neatly. "You didn't pack any of my ties," he said. "And you... you packed these pyjamas?" He asked, finding the Thunder Cats logo. "They were just a present," he mumbled, blushing.
"Sure, kid," Harvey rolled his eyes.
"You packed a hat and scarf and no ties?"
"You know I hate your ties," Harvey said, sounding almost reasonable. "And it's cold in Vegas now," he muttered, not looking at Mike.
"How did you even find my inhaler?"
"That's something we need to talk about," Harvey replied. "You don't tell me you need one? That's what idiots do, Mike."
"Harvey I barely need it. I keep one right at the bottom of my work bag and another in my cupboard. I can't remember the last time I needed it."
"Well what if you needed it this weekend and I hadn't packed it?" Harvey asked him. "You should be thanking me."
"Thanks, Mom, for making sure I don't die on this trip."
Harvey punched him (quite hard) in the shoulder. "You're welcome, smart-ass."
- 4 -
Harvey wasn't sure what he had expected to happen that night, but he knew one of the least things he had expected was for Mike to be banging on his door.
"I'm checking real estate in the morning," Harvey grumbled, just letting Mike walk in, knowing he would do anyway. He walked back to his living room and sat on the couch, picking up the beer bottle he had been nursing whilst watching the game.
Mike sat next to him, curling in on himself and watching the TV as well.
Harvey stayed silent, waiting for Mike to come out with whatever it was he wanted to say so that Harvey could go back to watching the game in peace - without the scarily quiet associate sat next to him, nerves and angst rolling off him in waves.
"I don't know what to do," he finally said in a quiet voice.
"That's the usual state of affairs for you, isn't it?" Harvey replied, glancing at him.
"Harvey," the way Mike said his name made him take that little bit more notice. "I just... Jenny's ignoring me and Rachel's under some impression that I cheated on both of them because she kissed me, and - "
"Haven't we had that discussion about me not caring about your soap opera life?" Harvey asked, not putting too much of a bite to his words because Mike seemed to be desperate for some sort of advice.
"I told Jenny she has nothing to worry about, but Rachel kissed me - and now I feel like I'm lying to them both - even though I am lying to them both, but it's not my fault, and - "
"Mike, with women - when they're angry at you it's because of one of two things."
Mike blinked, stopped in his tirade. "Are you offering me advice?"
"Anything to stop you babbling at me so I can concentrate on the football," Harvey said. "Now pay attention. If Jenny's ignoring you then she either thinks you're lying - which you are - or she thinks you're angry at her for suggesting it. Which in turn makes her suspicious that you're lying because you're angry she thought it."
"So basically she knows I'm lying and hates me," Mike summarised dolefully.
"And with Rachel - she's either angry at you because she thinks you've cheated on your girlfriend with her - and though she'll feel flattered by that it's not the kind of thing she'd want in a relationship. Or, she's jealous that you're still with Jenny even after she kissed you."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Mike asked, pulling a loose thread on his jacket he had yet to take off.
"Make up your mind," Harvey said simply. "You like this Jenny girl then you admit to her that Rachel kissed you but you don't want to be with Rachel, you want to be with her and then tell Rachel you can't be with her."
"And if I like Rachel more?" Mike's voice was quiet and soft.
Harvey shrugged. "Admit to Jenny you do, break it off and go with Rachel."
Mike sighed and leant back into the couch. "Why are women so complicated? Why did Rachel have to kiss me in the first place?"
"I don't know, kid," Harvey said, not without sympathy. "But are we done talking about girls and feelings? I just want to watch the game."
Mike shrugged but nodded - glad that Harvey had actually given him some advice rather than mocking him. He had felt nervous going to his door - but Harvey was the only friend he had left. He couldn't talk to Donna without it getting back to Rachel, and Trevor was definitely out. His Grammy wouldn't understand and talking to his Dad's grave had been thus far uninspiring and unhelpful.
"Thanks, Harvey," he said softly.
"I said shush. Football."
- 5 -
"Harvey, I think you should go to Conference Room B," Donna told him, looking worried.
"Why?" He asked, before looking up. "Isn't that the one Mike's in?"
She nodded. "The other associates heard about you letting him take second chair for Mr. Colby's trial. They weren't too pleased."
"Oh for God's sake," he grumbled, standing up and storming down the corridor - looking like the harbinger of death for associates. He knew the others were jealous of Mike and had often shown it in harmless teasing and hazing - never doing any real harm.
But as he came across the conference room he found that people could quickly change their minds. Mike's face looked pinched and pale as he sat at the table, files and work spread out in front of him, trying to ignore the two or three associates who had found him in there.
"C'mon, Mike - just tell us what your secret is," one of them purred, knocking a file to the floor. Mike's eye twitched slightly and the hand around his pen clasped even tighter than it had been.
"No secret, just hard work - now will you just leave?" He snarled.
"Oh, doing all of Specter's grunt work?" Another asked. "Why does he make you do all of it and never gives it to any of us? What is it, blackmail material? Did he find out you killed your parents and - "
Mike suddenly launched himself at the associate, so Harvey hastily went in, tearing them apart before a fight really started. "That's enough!" He spat, pushing Mike backwards and standing in front of him. "You two," he said to the ones who he had seen talking. "Go to Ms. Pearson's office and wait there for me. Tell her what just happened and that I will be there soon. Got it?"
They looked scared but hastily nodded and flew out the room in the direction of Jessica's office.
"Mike," he turned, carefully approaching Mike like one would approach a spooked horse, about to bolt.
"I'm fine," Mike said. "I'm sorry, I just - oh god, you're going to fire me, aren't you? And Gregory and Devon are going to tell Jessica something different to what happened and that I attacked them and - "
"Mike, calm down," Harvey instructed, pushing him back into his seat. He picked up the file that had been pushed off the table and glanced through, before glancing at some other work. "This is good," he said, seeing Mike relax a bit. "Keep at it. I'm going to take care of this. You stay here. If someone else comes in and starts giving you shit, just go to my office. Donna won't let anyone else in. Got it?"
Mike nodded and took his pen up once more with a shaking hand.
"Good boy." Harvey walked out, leaving Mike to his thoughts.
Trevor had stood up for him before - but that was about it. His Grammy had sometimes snapped at people; mostly when they mentioned the accident to him, but he'd never had anyone protect him so... so readily and willingly.
He wondered if his dad would have stood up to bullies for him. If his dad would stand in front of him and made them flee with just a look.
He wondered why Harvey was doing this.
- + 1 -
One of his most dreaded days of the year was coming up, and all Mike wanted to do was work through it. Three days a year Mike wanted to bury his head in the sand and wait for it all the just go away.
Mother's Day.
The anniversary of... It.
And today.
Father's Day.
Suffice to say, he wasn't having one of the best days. He'd forced a smile and nodded when Rachel was telling him about the present she had sent to her father and that she would hopefully be visiting him later in the week. He'd made some stuff up when the associates were reminiscing about their dad's.
"Ross - any fond memories of the old man?"
Mike's face morphed into one reminiscent of deer-caught-in-headlights and quickly stuttered about the first things that came to his head. "Y'know, the usual. Uh... playing catch, holidays, advice about girls, shaving..." He tailed off, not noticing the other associates laughing at his 'boring, unoriginal memories'.
He'd never had any of those memories at all. Not with his dad.
And yet he knew what they felt like. To have someone who would protect him without question, offer him advice (after a while) and just be there if he needed him.
He realised with a start that Harvey had done all of this for him. Harvey had taught him to catch a ball, how to throw one... Harvey had fussed slightly (not that he would ever admit it) over his packing for their weekend at Las Vegas.
Harvey was silently in the background, ready to catch him if he fell with just a bit of mocking and tutting before shoving him in the right direction.
Maybe he should thank him.
"Donna?"
The redhead looked up at Harvey's confused tone. "Yes?"
"What's this?"
"Well, Harvey," she pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. "I'm not an expert in these things, but it looks like a present to me."
"Yes, thank you," he growled. "Who put it here?"
"Is there a card?" Donna asked, knowing perfectly well who had put it there and had her heart broken when he had shuffled up to her desk shyly and asked if he could leave it in Harvey's office.
The man in question picked the box up and found a note attached. He frowned but started to read it.
Harvey,
Okay, this is embarrassing, and please don't mock me for this later but... This present's for you. Just... in the last few months you've really been there when I needed you, and I know you're probably going to just, y'know - roll your eyes and laugh at my girly feelings and confessions of love and stuff but... this is to say thanks. It was just the little things that no one else cares about but you helped me with. I know you're going to say it's just your job to do it but I just really want to show you how much I appreciate everything you've done.
So... this is for you - Happy Father's Day.
Mike.
"Well?" Donna asked, having watching his face.
"He's given me a Father's Day present," Harvey told her, looking confused and - if Donna was correct - touched.
"Well he needs to give someone one," she said softly, retreating to her desk to leave Harvey pondering the note.
He reread it before finding the courage to unwrap the gift. It was a mint condition Captain Kirk figure, still in it's packaging and signed by William Shatner himself. There was another, little note inside and Harvey picked it up, wondering how in the hell Mike had been able to afford it.
Trevor once swiped this from a comic-con we went to when we were young. His Dad saw and said he had to give it back so he gave it to me to look after it. My Grammy found it and told me she would be disappointed if I didn't tell my parents. She then saw it was signed by Shatner and said she'd be disappointed if I didn't give it to my Dad cause he was such a big fan.
I was young and selfish and really wanted it for myself so I never told them I had it. They died about a month later. Thought it was finally time to give it to my Dad.
Harvey smiled. "Donna, find out where Mike gets his stuffed-crust pizza from."
"Are we feeling a movie-night coming on, Boss?" Donna replied, shaking her head with a smile on her face. "You softie."
Harvey smirked but didn't contradict her.