CHAPTER 7: WAITING FOR A SUPERMAN
Is it getting heavy?
Well, I thought it was already as heavy as can be.
Tell everybody waiting for a Superman
That they should try to hold on the best they can
He hasn't dropped them, forgot them, or anything
It's just too heavy for Superman to lift.
-From "Waiting for a Superman" originally by The Flaming Lips and covered by Iron & Wine
From Chapter 6: He checked his watch and, upon seeing that they only had an hour left, decided to just go for it as casually and nonchalantly as possible. "Well, the real reason I stopped by for a chat is...uh, you wouldn't mind loaning me 500 dollars at some point during the next 58 minutes, would you?"
Harvey stared blankly at Mike in bewilderment for a moment before demanding to know what was going on.
"Nothing's going on, Harvey. I don't know why you're going off and jumping to conclusions here. Maybe I just need $500 dollars for....something. You spent 500 dollars on those pants that you're wearing and that wasn't a big deal. Why does this have to be a big deal?" Mike protested weakly, trying to think of a logical argument to distract Harvey. It didn't work.
"Oh, I'll admit that I'm jumping to a lot of conclusions right now but I'm still having a hard time figuring out what the hell is going on," Harvey snapped with a sort of weary exasperation. "And let me tell you, kid, subtly is not your strong suit. Any idiot with two neurons to rub together would be able to tell that something is wrong. Shall we count the clues together?" Harvey said mockingly, as though talking patronizingly to a small child. Mike scowled and may or may not have purposefully smeared a bit of blood on the couch in retribution.
"Let's see; you burst into that conference room looking like you had just seen a ghost, you're bleeding on my very, very expensive leather couch, and your shirt is buttoned incorrectly. Not to mention that you look like you just lost a fight with the Incredible Hulk," Harvey counted off.
"Well, actually—" Mike began animatedly, thinking of the half-giant who had beaten him up. He stopped and backpedaled upon seeing Harvey's face. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Look, If you help me I'll pay you back, I swear. By my calculations, it'll only take me a few years to make 500 dollars. I've already saved 200 dollars over the past 14 years, so it won't be so bad, right? Of course, I'm still a minor so I can't access my bank account to get that money, but once I turn 15 I'll get a job and then it'll just take me a few years to make 300 dollars because I'll have to use most of that money to help Grammy, and I can pay interest, of course, but then it'll take like 10 years with the interest and I suppose it really all depends on how the stock market is doing in the future, so—"
"Michael," Harvey said forcefully. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as though nursing a migraine. "I will give you 500 dollars payback free if you stop rambling and tell me why you need the money."
"I'd ramble a lot more often if I knew that was all it took to get 500 dollars," Mike said with a forced laugh. He worried his lower lip anxiously. This was really what it all came down to, wasn't it? Trust. Mike had been dealing with his own problems for years. Even as a little kid, he hadn't wanted to tell his parents about getting bullied in school because it made them sad, so he dealt with it on his own. Could he trust Harvey, someone he had only known for a month, to fix his problems for him? Could he surrender control for awhile and let an adult take the wheel and call the shots? He wanted to, he really did. He envied his classmates who complained that their parents never gave them the freedom to make their own choices. He supposed that his peers were only responding like normal teenagers trying to find themselves and distance themselves from their parents, but he wished he had someone that wanted to be involved in his life and wanted what was best for him unconditionally. Grammy did, of course, but she was always so tired from work and he didn't want to bother her or upset her.
In this instance he supposed he didn't have much choice. Harvey was an expert at reading body language; he would know if Mike lied to him about why he needed the money. Not to mention that this had been his first instinct. When Trevor had admitted that he didn't have the money anymore, Mike had instantly known that his next step was to go to Pearson Hardman and talk to Harvey, although he didn't know why exactly. He decided that maybe he should just follow his gut on this one. It was probably about time he started trusting someone else, after all. Grammy was great, but she was getting older and wouldn't always be around for him. And trusting Trevor obviously hadn't been a good idea. But Harvey...well, he tried to hide it, but Mike knew that Harvey had a very firm set of ethics and no matter how much he would protest it, he wouldn't let Mike go out and get himself killed.
Trust, Mike reminded himself firmly. Harvey was sitting directly across from him and was gazing at him with his patented penetrating stare that made it impossible for Mike to look away. It made him want to spill his every secret. And so he did.
The whole story came out and everything happened very quickly from that point on. Mike told Harvey everything— about meeting Trevor in grade school, how they had been best friends and then had drifted apart since high school began, how Trevor's home life wasn't ideal and how Trevor's sister left and never came back, and how he was now sliding down a slippery slope and trying to pull Mike with him. Donna came in the office about midway through the story (toting excessive amounts of medical supplies with her) and handed him an icepack. She sat down on the couch to listen to his story too, and Mike found that he didn't have the heart to send her away. If he was going to trust Harvey he figured he might as well go all in and trust Donna too— she'd find out anyway; it was common knowledge around the office that Donna was omniscient.
Harvey listened silently, getting up and pacing around after awhile. After Mike finished his tale, Harvey continued to pace, occasionally muttering to himself. Mike exchanged glances with Donna, who looked concerned.
"Er, Harvey, normally I wouldn't dream of interrupting you when you have that scary pacing-and-thinking face on, but this is kind of a time-sensitive issue. I only have like half an hour to settle this before they go after Trevor. What're you doing, anyway?" Mike asked tentatively.
He regretted this question, because Harvey then launched into an elaborate metaphor about how there are 146 options if someone is holding a gun to your head— Harvey was "considering the 145 options that narrow-minded young Mike hadn't thought about."
He wanted to protest that he wasn't narrow-minded but he figured that was a conversation for another time. Harvey then went over and had a hushed conversation with Donna, who got up and went to her desk, making phone calls and typing furiously on her computer.
"Let's go," Harvey said, pulling his jacket on and heading for the office door. Mike stared at him, confused as to what was going on. "Well, are you coming or not? You've already bled on my couch; I'm sure you'll have just as much fun bleeding on the upholstery in my car."
"Wait— you're coming with? I thought you were just going to give me the money," Mike said in bewilderment, dutifully following Harvey down the hall to the elevator.
Harvey stopped so abruptly at this that Mike crashed into him from behind and almost fell. Harvey turned quickly and grabbed Mike's arm before he could topple over and glared at him in a mixture of frustration and amazement.
"You seriously think I'm going to send a fourteen-year-old child off to negotiate with a bunch of violent potheads by himself? On his bicycle? Do I look like I want to go to jail for reckless endangerment of a minor?" Harvey asked sharply.
"Er— no?" Mike said uncertainly as they took the elevator down to the parking garage.
"You and I are going to be having a long talk tonight when this is all over," Harvey sighed as they got in the car, sounding even more exasperated than he did every day when he tripped over Mike's shoes in the hallway of the apartment, which meant that he was really exasperated.
What followed then was the singularly most awkward car ride of Mike's existence. They stopped by the park and picked Trevor up, and Mike reflected that Harvey's first impression of Trevor was probably not looking so good at this point. The three of them sat in complete silence. Mike nervously drummed his fingers on the armrest, feeling hyperaware of the tension between Harvey and Trevor.
When they finally arrived at Derek's house, Harvey firmly instructed Mike and Trevor to wait in the car. He ignored their protests and calmly walked up the front walk and up the steps of the house. He knocked and disappeared into the house with Derek. He emerged less than 10 minutes later with a very smug grin. He looked like Superman as he triumphantly strolled across the lawn and proceeded to casually take a phone call on the sidewalk for five minutes. Mike subtly cracked the car window and tried to eavesdrop— he could tell that Harvey was talking to Donna from the tone of his voice (he had a certain voice that he only used when bantering with his secretary) but he couldn't make out what was being said.
Harvey then climbed back into the car and asked for directions to Trevor's home, not mentioning anything that had happened in the house and deflecting all of Mike and Trevor's clamoring questions. When they arrived at Trevor's rundown little house, Harvey followed Trevor out of the car, flashing Mike a look that clearly said wait here. He and Trevor talked for about 10 minutes and the first five seemed to be comprised of Harvey in full out lecture and interrogation mode. Trevor looked suitably sheepish and shamefaced during this segment— Mike was glad that Trevor wasn't mouthing off to Harvey and was alarmed to think that he was probably facing the same lecture on a much larger scale when they got back to the apartment. He couldn't tell what else Harvey and Trevor talked about, but whatever it was must have been something good, because Trevor had first looked at Harvey disbelievingly before breaking into a huge grin and nodding furiously.
When Harvey got back in the car Mike continued to pester him for information but Harvey wouldn't budge.
"Oh, come on, Harvey. What's going on? What happened in the house? Why did you just call Donna? What were you telling Trevor?" He whined, insatiably curious.
"It's not too much fun being left in the dark, is it?" Harvey retorted coolly. Mike blushed and shut up for the rest of the car ride, trying to gauge how upset Harvey was with him for getting himself mixed up in this mess.
When they got back to the apartment, Harvey silently motioned for Mike to follow him. At this point Mike was too worried about facing Harvey's anger to disobey anything that the older man wanted him to do, so he acquiesced and followed Harvey to, of all the strange places in the world, the guest bathroom. He glanced around, baffled— was Harvey going to make him scrub the toilet as a punishment or something?
"Sit," Harvey said, pointing to the counter of the sink top. Mike hated when Harvey ordered him around like a disobedient puppy but obligingly hopped up on the sink nonetheless, swinging his legs to diffuse his excess anxiety.
"Harvey, I know that you love to look at yourself in the mirror, but couldn't we have taken a break from that and had this talk in the living room on the couch instead of in here? It's a bit more comfortable out there," Mike said nervously. He glanced in the mirror and winced— he already had a good shiner going, his cheek was swollen, and there was dried blood near the cut on his face and under his nose.
Harvey rolled his eyes and began rummaging around in the cabinets next to Mike's head. To Mike's utter bemusement, Harvey emerged holding some disinfectant wipes, antibiotic ointment, and a band-aid.
Mike froze, his breath caught in his throat, as Harvey stepped closer, reached out, and began wiping the blood off Mike's face with a disinfectant wipe. He worked quickly and effectively, his face serious and focused. Mike felt a funny ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the bruises littering his torso and face and had everything to do with the way that Harvey's hands gently rubbed ointment over his cut and smoothed the band-aid on over the tender skin. He tried to remember the last time someone had cleaned a cut or a scrape for him— probably not since his parents had died. The Jensens had been far more likely to cause Mike pain than to try to fix it and it upset Grammy when Mike was hurt so he generally tried to hide any injuries from her.
Harvey then pulled out a bottle of Tylenol and handed Mike a cup of water and two pills. "This will help with any soreness," he said calmly, and Mike was glad he wasn't making a big deal out of this.
"I could have done that myself," Mike said hoarsely. "But thanks," he managed to get out, still flabbergasted by Harvey's sudden display of nursing skills.
"And now we may adjourn to the couch as you've requested," Harvey declared imperiously, leaving a very mystified Mike still sitting on top of the sink. Mike scrambled after him and perched delicately on the edge of the couch, chewing determinedly on his lower lip.
"You can relax, Mike," Harvey sighed. "We've already talked about this; I'm not going to hit you. We're just going to talk for a bit," he said cautiously, adopting a tone that one might use when approaching an injured animal.
Mike nodded and stiffly leaned back on the couch to give the impression of relaxation. Harvey rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else about it.
"You're angry with me," Mike said quietly.
"You're damn right I'm angry with you," Harvey confirmed tightly. Mike got the impression that he was trying as hard as possible to control his temper so that Mike wouldn't freak out and panic like he had the week prior. "You showed up to my office bleeding all over the place and then started rambling about being attacked by drug dealers completely out of the blue. What were you thinking getting involved in all of this?"
Mike just shrugged wordlessly, afraid to try to talk around the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. He studiously avoided Harvey's eyeline, hating the feeling of the heavy weight of Harvey's disappointment on his shoulders. It would be so much easier to bear if Harvey would just let loose and yell at him instead of looking at him like he had let him down and betrayed his trust.
They sat in silence for a minute and Harvey appeared to be gathering his thoughts and deciding what to say. Finally Mike couldn't stand it any longer.
"I'm sorry, Harvey! I'm sorry; really I am. I didn't mean to get mixed up in any of this. I just wanted to stay friends with Trevor and then one thing led to another and before I knew it I was getting chased around by angry druggies," Mike blurted out. "I wanted to tell you, honest! I felt like something was wrong but then I couldn't get the words out and I didn't know if you'd laugh at me because it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, and—"
"Alright, alright, Mike. One thing at a time," Harvey said, raising a hand to cut Mike off. He looked pensive for a moment. "Look, I know that you didn't mean to get involved in any of this but the fact still remains that you did. And then you didn't tell anyone about it and look where that got you. There could have been serious ramifications for your actions if I hadn't been there to get involved."
"I know, Harvey, and that's why I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to get involved. Don't worry; I won't tell Grammy or the child services people if they ask me what happened. I know that I could have gotten arrested and that would have made you look bad. I'm a reflection of you," Mike said, dutifully reciting one of the phrases Harvey liked to say when Mike emerged from his bedroom in the morning wearing ripped jeans or a particularly old hoodie. "And today I could have damaged your reputation. So I'm sorry and I want to thank you for helping me despite the fact."
Harvey stared at him. "You really think that's why I'm angry with you? Because you could have damaged my reputation by getting caught? Come on, kid, use your head. You and Trevor are lucky that it was just a bunch of college kids. If you two were ten years older and were dealing drugs on a larger scale those guys would have come after you with guns and cops instead of their fists and you would be scrambling around for a lot more than 500 dollars. I'm angry that you went out and almost got yourself seriously injured. Your life and your future is worth a lot more than a bunch of shitty laced weed," Harvey said seriously. "And yes, of course, I'm pissed that you might have gotten arrested. Your grandmother would have skinned me alive if I'd let you get yourself landed in juvie on my watch," he added quickly to counter the admission that he was concerned for Mike's wellbeing.
"You totally care-!" Mike crowed triumphantly. Harvey shook his head and cut in quickly.
"I never said that. You're putting words in my mouth," Harvey denied vehemently but Mike just laughed.
"Sure, whatever. Wait 'til I tell Donna!"
"You tell Donna and I'll double your punishment," Harvey said gravely and Mike immediately sobered up, his thoughts returning to the grim topic at hand.
"Look, Mike, I'm only thirty. It wasn't so long ago that I was a teenager and I can remember what it was like. I know that you're going to make stupid decisions and want to go along with peer pressure. That's just a given. Yes, I'm disappointed that you went with Trevor on the drug deal but Trevor is a whole separate issue. Right now I want to talk about the real mistake that you made in this whole mess, which was not telling anyone about what was going on. I'm not saying that you should have told me specifically, but you should have told someone if you felt like something was wrong. Your grandmother, Donna, a teacher— I don't care. I know that trust is hard for you what with all you've been through, but you've got to start trusting adults to take care of the big stuff for you. You're just a kid; you're not supposed to be running around trying to fix these situations and putting yourself in harm's way. Let the grownups take care of that," Harvey said, and Mike was impressed that he only sounding a little bit condescending when he said this.
"I can take care of myself," Mike said stubbornly.
"Yes, because that clearly worked out sowell in this situation. People who can take care of themselves always look like they've just been initiated into the Fight Club," Harvey said drily before continuing on more seriously. "Look, I know you can take care of yourself to a certain degree, but the fact remains that you're only 14. You don't have to. While you're living here with me, it's my responsibility to ensure your safety. The next time something happens that could lead to a potentially dangerous situation, you are going to come and find me and we'll deal with it. Understood?" Harvey said sternly.
Mike nodded. "I think that I trust you, Harvey. I want to trust you. It's just going to take me awhile to figure it out completely."
"Well, I'm not expecting you to just trust me on a whim. I know that things like that take time. But while you live here, you're my responsibility and I expect you to come to me for help," Harvey said, and it was a testament to how far they had come the past few weeks that Harvey only sounded a little awkward when openly taking an interest in Mike's welfare. His let's-talk-about-Mike's-emotions-and-past-issues talks were really starting to come along nicely.
But what about when I don't live here anymore? Mike wanted to ask, but refrained. That was something that he didn't want to talk about out loud because he didn't want to seem needy or desperate for Harvey's affection. Harvey was only doing this to win the McKinnon case, after all. He probably would never want to talk to Mike again when this was all over. Mike didn't blame him. He'd thought the same thing when he'd originally moved in— just get through the next three months and forget about it after. But now that he actually was staring to get to know Harvey the human being (who wore ugly sweats when working out, ate his breakfast cereal without milk, hummed while washing the dishes, and took naps on the couch while watching Star Trek) and not Harvey the cold, emotionless lawyer, he found that he actually kind of...liked living here at the apartment. But he refused to dwell on it further, even in the privacy of his own mind. It made him too sad and confused. Shouldn't he be counting down the hours until he could move back in with Grammy?
He was shaken from his heavy musings by his stomach's grumbling. Harvey checked his watch.
"I suppose it's probably about time we got some dinner," he said. "Let's go out; we can talk at this restaurant I have in mind."
"Oh goodie, more talking," Mike muttered under his breath, but he was excited by the prospect of food and quickly tied his shoes and grabbed his jacket.
"What was that? You don't want dinner tonight?" Harvey asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"What? No, I said that I love talking about my emotions. Where are we going? Will they let me in dressed like this?" Mike said, wondering what type of restaurant Harvey frequented in his free time. He hoped it wasn't going to be some typical Harveyish black-tie type of thing.
Harvey just smiled mysteriously and grabbed his keys off the counter. They got in the car and drove for about a couple of miles before Harvey pulled into a small parking lot in front of a hole-in-the-wall diner.
"A diner?" Mike asked, nonplussed. "Did giving Derek and Peter and Half-giant 500 dollars today bankrupt you?"
"Yes, because I actually paid them off. The situation was so far out of my control that I had to capitulate to three teenage idiots and give them the money," Harvey scoffed sarcastically as they sat down in a booth. "No. Sometimes you just need to eat greasy food and this just happens to be the best place in the state to do it."
"You didn't pay them off? What happened in there, anyway?" Mike asked eagerly, scanning the menu and committing it to memory.
Harvey sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you? Fine. I told them that I was a lawyer and that you and Trevor were my clients. Then I told them that I was going to call the cops and report them for drug possession and assault. Of course, they weren't too happy about that. So then I told them that if I signed them on as clients then I couldn't legally testify against them. That sounded good to them. But my signing bonus is $500, which coincidentally happened to be the same amount of money that you guys owed them. So I told them we could call it even. I'm now on retainer for your college friends, although I don't think they'll be calling on my services anytime soon," Harvey said darkly, his voice dropping close to a growl and his eyes flicking to Mike's bruised and bandaged cheek. "I had a...strongly worded discussion with them and they won't be coming near you again." Mike wondered if Harvey realized how protective and... (dare he even think it?) paternal he sounded. "Anyway, you two are off the hook, and nobody paid any money so all's well that ends well."
"That's actually quite brilliant in its simplicity," Mike said, suitably impressed. He hoped that he'd be able to think that quickly on his feet one day.
"Well, they don't call me the best closer in New York for nothing," Harvey gloated.
"Do they actually call you that, though? Because I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that," Mike reflected skeptically and Harvey threw a sugar packet at his head.
"Are you boys behaving?" A pretty young waitress asked as she approached their booth, ducking quickly to avoid the Splenda packet that Mike tried to chuck at Harvey in retribution. Mike smiled guiltily at her.
She took their order and left, but not without shamelessly flirting with Harvey first after seeing his empty ring finger.
"Dude, she was totally hitting on you! Are you going to try to get her number?" Mike exclaimed the second she left the table.
"Don't call me dude," Harvey said scornfully. "And yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. I know she was flirting with me. Women want to date the best closer in New York. I'm not going to try to get her number, she's going to just give it to me," he said with his usual air of superiority.
"Hey, can I be your wingman?" Mike asked eagerly.
"Can you be my wingman? No. You can't even get into bars for another 7 years. And even when you're thirty you'll still be getting carded. This waitress thinks your about eleven years old right now. You'll see when she comes back," Harvey said and Mike pouted until the waitress came back with their food.
"Okay, sweetie. Be careful, the plate is very hot. Can I get you a glass of milk to go with your food? It'll help you grow tall and strong," the waitress said patronizingly to him. Mike scowled at her and determinedly avoiding looking at Harvey, who was without a doubt smirking at this.
"I don't want any milk, thanks," Mike said shortly. But the woman was determined.
"Are you sure? I bet your dad here wants you to drink milk so you can be strong like him someday," she cooed and it was Mike's turn to smirk. Harvey looked like he had just been clubbed over the head with a blunt object at the assumption by a complete stranger that he was old enough to be Mike's father. He assumed from the alarmed expression on Harvey's face that he was now having an age-related existential crisis.
"Yeah, Dad wants me to drink milk. But Mom is lactose intolerant so she doesn't make me do it," Mike said innocently. The waitress frowned at Harvey at the mention of "Mom" and hurried away.
"Yeah, she's definitely going to give you her number now, Mr. Best-closer-in-New-York," Mike crowed with laughter.
"You've officially lost any chance of ever gaining wingman privileges," Harvey said irritably, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. "Look, Mike, speaking of bad wingmen, we need to talk about Trevor."
Mike instantly sombered. "What about Trevor?" He asked cautiously. "What were you talking to him about on his lawn today?"
"Trevor is going to be moving to Montana to live with his older sister for a few months," Harvey said. "After you told me about her I had Donna get in contact with the private investigator I use to research clients sometimes. Vanessa was able to track her down very quickly and Donna called her while we were at Derek's house. It's all settled. His plane leaves in two days."
"Wait, what? You found Sara? But Trevor hasn't talked to her for years! Where has she been?" Mike exclaimed incredulously, choking on a mouthful of hash browns in shock.
"She apparently lives in Montana with her husband and their two young children," Harvey said, thumping Mike on the back until he could breathe. "And Vanessa is very good at her job— it took her less than fifteen minutes to find Sara's information. I didn't talk to her, but Donna called her and said afterwards that Sara seemed very willing to take Trevor in. She doesn't ever want to talk to their parents again but she feels bad about not being there for Trevor and wants to help him get his life back on track."
"Wow," Mike said. "Well, good for Trevor, I suppose. I know he misses Sara. But why are you sending him away?"
Harvey sighed. "I wish I didn't have to, kid. But Trevor's just an anchor weighing you down. It's time to cut him loose, and this is for his own good. He needs guidance, which his parents obviously aren't providing him with. But with Sara's help hopefully he'll be able to get his act together. I'm just trying to make sure that the two of you aren't college drop-outs or bums or wanted drug dealers in ten years. I owe your grandmother that much."
"And Trevor was excited to go? I mean, I saw he was smiling when you told him."
"Yes, I think he really was happy about it. He'll be okay in Montana. And you'll be okay here without him," Harvey said.
"I don't have any friends left now," Mike said morosely. He and Jenny weren't that good of friends; they mostly just talked because they had Trevor in common. And she was a popular cheerleader, she probably didn't want to be seen with dorky genius Mike Ross.
"Oh, come on, Mr. Theatrical. You'll be fine— you're pretty persistent when it comes to implanting yourself in other people's lives. Does your school have a legal society or a debate club or something? Why don't you join that? Or maybe the drama club," Harvey said absentmindedly as he paid the bill for the diner. The waitress came by and picked it up, blushing and determinedly not making eye contact with either of them.
"I'm not that dramatic," Mike said defensively as they headed towards the exit of the diner. He had never really thought about getting involved in school activities before.
"Why, hello, Mr. Specter! It's good to see you here; it's been awhile!" A booming voice exclaimed and Mike and Harvey turned to see a jolly looking middle-aged man wearing a tag that said Manager on it.
"Hello, David," Harvey said, shaking the man's hand. "It has been a long time. The food was as good as ever."
"Good to hear, good to hear," David said jovially before turning to Mike. "And who's this young man? Another little brother of yours, Harvey?"
Harvey looked a bit uncomfortable now. "No, he's just a...visiting cousin."
"Ah, I see. Harvey always brings his brother Paul here when he's in town. That's why I thought you were another brother. But I suppose you're a bit young for that. He's never brought anyone else here, you know," David said conversationally to Mike, and Harvey definitely looked uncomfortable now. Mike fought the urge to laugh and stood quietly as Harvey and David made polite small talk for a few moments.
"Not a word," Harvey said firmly as they got into the car later.
"Aww, Harv. It's nice to know that I'm just one of the family," Mike said cheekily. Harvey just glared at him.
They drove back to the apartment quietly; the silence punctuated only by the sound of Mike's occasional yawns. Now that the adrenaline had completely worn off and he wasn't worried about Harvey being enraged with his indiscretions of the day, he found it increasingly harder to stay awake.
He shuffled up to the apartment wearily behind Harvey. "Do you mind if I head to bed?" He asked, yawning.
"No, but first there's a few more things we need to talk about. I'm adding a few more rules to the 'tell me where you're going at all times' rule. First of all, no drug dealing. I should think that's a pretty obvious one. Second, no more hiding things that could come back to hurt you later. I'm not saying that you need to tell me all of your secrets or that I want to know about all of your girly teenage problems, but if you find yourself in a potentially dangerous situation I want to hear about it."
Mike bobbed his head in agreement, fighting off another yawn. He plodded over to the office door.
"Goodnight, Harvey. And thanks for your help today. I really am sorry," Mike said.
"Goodnight," Harvey said and then a slightly mischevious look crossed his face. "Oh, and one more thing, Mike. I think getting your face punched by a descendent of the Hulk was a pretty good punishment, but you're not totally off the hook yet. I thought about grounding you but then I came up with something else much better. For the next week when you're done with your homework, instead of wandering around my office distracting me and looking for something to do you'll be reporting to Louis's cubicle and you'll help him with whatever work he needs done until I'm ready to leave."
"Oh, come on, Harvey, really? Louis? Now that's just cruel and unusual punishment!" Mike howled in overly-dramatic protest. He closed the office door and collapsed on his bed. He could hear Harvey laughing at him from the other room and knew that he had been forgiven and this whole mess could be forgotten. Despite what a long and stressful day it had been, he fell asleep that night with a slight smile on his face, dreaming of Superman rushing in and saving him from the Incredible Hulk.