Archive of Our Own ^beta

When they discovered Harvey's secret, Mike probably shouldn't have been so surprised after all.

He'd known his boss for a little more than a year, by then, and just a couple of weeks ago they'd finally kicked Hardman's ass out of Jessica's firm. What had happened in the months before they finally accomplished it was history by now. What had been said about Harvey and his feelings at the mock trial held in Pearson Hardman's library was a secret well guarded amongst the partners – and Mike, who wasn't a partner but had been there helping Louis to think outside the box against his boss and Jessica. How they'd managed to convince the senior partners in only one night that Hardman was a swindler who'd made them lose a lot of money just to get rid of the managing name partner and her attack dog was a secret only four people knew. The words Harvey's used to convince Jessica to keep Mike in the firm were the ultimate example of Harvey's loyalty and caring, a secret nobody would ever know about.

And as all this happened, Mike had had confirmation that his hardass boss, who did his best to come forward as someone devoid of any feelings and emotions, was actually an incredibly nice person, someone who cared deeply despite everything people thought about him, a man whose loyalty never weaved, a person worried about his friends – and Mike really liked to think he was one of the few lucky people Harvey Specter considered his friends.

So really, it shouldn't have come as such a big surprise when he discovered Harvey had wings.

In a society where not everybody was deemed worth of them, having wings was considered a gift, a blessing to show and be proud of. Stylist designed special clothes with openings on the back to grant the possibility for the wings of being let free and moving, while salons specialized in grooming and combing them offered specifically trained professional to take care of the sensible feathers. People who had wings liked to show them, and they had all the rights to do so; their wings were the reflection of their soul, of how beautiful they were, how worthy. Mike wasn't surprised he didn't have wings, not after all the troubles he'd gotten himself into growing up. Usually only people with special talents and a very big heart were so lucky as to be given them. They were people ready to help others and who held others' interests at heart even more than they did their own.

Wings came in a lot of shapes and colors, usually reflecting a trait of the owner's personality in the first place. Donna's were long and slender, very elegant and with reddish tips that reminded everyone of her hair and her explosive personality, held high with pride. Rachel's were little and fluffy-looking, a mixture of gray and brown, all in all just like the feathers of a baby penguin, and weren't they the most adorable wings Mike'd ever seen? They didn't immediately attract a lot of attention, mostly because they kept close to Rachel's back, mirroring her calmness and composure. His Grammy's – bless her soul – had been soft and white, like her hair, and always moving, fluttering with a vitality that had always been a perfect representation of her beautiful soul. Even at her old age, they'd still been beautiful.

It didn't really surprise Mike when he noticed that not a lot of people in Pearson Hardman had wings. No senior partners had been gifted with them, and certainly not Jessica. She was a great lawyer, a clever name partner, and a dashing woman, but she really wasn't wings material. Only three associates displayed them with pride, much to Louis's chagrin, and that was it.

But Harvey… at the beginning, his boss not having wings had made a lot of sense. Actually, Mike hadn't been able to imagine a reality where Harvey had wings. But then, as months passed, more clients were closed and cases were won, always fairly, never breaking the law; as Mike got to catch some brief glimpses of Harvey's real nature, cleverly hidden under a mask of disinterest and coldness, well, then Mike should have understood that maybe there was more than met the eye, there.

These were the reasons why, when the doctor told them Harvey would be released in a couple of days, and he was lucky because his left wing had actually saved his life, maybe Mike shouldn't have been standing there like the complete idiot he was, mouth agape and at a complete loss of word. To his credit, Jessica's expression wasn't much different, only the older woman regained her composure much faster than he did. Donna's reaction, though, had been strange. She hadn't been surprised by the news, only saddened. Mike's mind had been concentrated on Harvey though, and he didn't get to question her until weeks after that horrible day.

“So the damage wasn't extensive?” Jessica asked the doctor who'd been assigned to Harvey when the man finally came to them with news about his conditions, and the relief in her voice and on her face was evident.

They were standing in the middle of the ER, after a three hours long wait.

“Luckily for Mr. Specter, it wasn't. The knife penetrated into the muscles of his back on the left side, but didn't hit any major organs, mostly thanks to Mr. Specter's left wing, that deadened the hit. He's lost a lot of blood though, so a transfusion was necessary.”

Boom. That's how the bomb was dropped.

Mike thought that for a moment, the whole ER had fallen silent, because all of a sudden the wail of the child and the soft cries of an elder woman faded completely, leaving in their wake only astonished stupor.

The doctor, a man in his forties, with kind eyes and – unsurprisingly – very nice wings, quickly caught up with their stunned expressions.

“I understand you didn't know about Mr. Specter's wings, then?” he asked, concerned – a feeling his wings mirrored with short, aborted movements.

Jessica cleared her throat. “No, we didn't.”

“But you and Miss Paulsen are listed as his next of kin. You surely know him well?”

“We do, doctor. Only, maybe not so well, after all,” she replied.

“Then, I won't add anything else about this; I think if Mr. Specter wants to talk to you about his wings, he'll do it himself. I'll only say that they all but saved his life.”

Mike finally found his voice again. “Of course, thank you doctor. When can we, uh, see him?” he asked expectantly.

The doctor looked at him. “He's currently sedated and will be for most of the day. We had to make sure the wound was clean, then suture and stitch it, on both his side and his wing.” Then, seeing as Mike had no wings, he added, “The latter proved to be a particularly tricky and difficult procedure, not to mention that injured wings usually take a lot to heal and it's always a painful procedure; we had to increase a notch the dosage of the painkillers, but right now Mr. Specter is as comfortable as one in his conditions could be.”

“Will he wake up today?” Donna asked, and Mike noticed that it was already well past midday.

“Probably in a few hours, around dinner time, yes. I'll be more precise once I examine him a second time, probably in the next hour or so,” the doctor confirmed before a nurse called him to another room.

They thanked him profusely before he left, and then Mike, Jessica and Donna were left there, standing in the middle of the ER, breathing easily for the first time since they'd received the phone call alerting them that Harvey had been mugged during his morning jog.

Donna collapsed on the nearest vacant chair, hiding her face in her hands.

“Thank God, he's fine!” she breathed.

Jessica rested her hand on her shoulder, in silent comfort.

“It takes more than a foolish delinquent to hurt Harvey.”

They all chuckled, well aware of the scare the phone call had cause, and of how close Harvey'd been to be seriously hurt by said foolish delinquent, despite their jokes. Mike had been in the office so early by pure coincidence, and still by coincidence he had been at Donna's desk to take that day's files when she'd received the call. Otherwise he wouldn't have known what had happened until Donna or Jessica informed him, surely hours later. He wouldn't have known Harvey'd been stabbed during his usual work out, probably by a junkie looking for easy money who had noticed the man wearing track pants more expensive than Mike's monthly rent. And he wouldn't have known how close they'd come to losing him. His insides twisted at the thought, maybe more than they should have. But if he was honest with himself, Mike was well aware of why he was feeling that way. He'd been for a very long time by now.

Jessica's words broke him out of his reverie.

“I'm going to head back to the office and let the other partners know what's happened. I'll handle Harvey's most urgent cases. Donna, do you still have that friend in the NYPD?”

“Yes, of course. Samuel, he's a sergeant.”

“Good, then do me a favor. Call him, explain him the situation, and ask him to keep us updated. I want to know the exact moment they catch that bastard.”

Mike knew what she really meant was, I want to strangle them and I want to talk to the DA and the judge assigned to the case to make sure they'll face the worst consequences possible by legal means. Everybody knew Harvey was loyal to Jessica – what nobody usually understood was it was a two way street.

Donna got up from the chair, regaining her usual confidence. “Consider it done. I'll call him immediately and meet him today. He owes me a favor, after all.”

Jessica nodded. “Very well. Mr. Ross, do you think you could work from here and keep us updated to Harvey's conditions?”

Mike was frankly surprised Jessica had asked him, and not Donna, to be there when the doctors would come check on his boss, and when he would finally wake up, but he'd never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Then stay, I'll make sure somebody brings you the Menasez case; it's a pro bono I wanted to assign Harvey, but you'll do.”

The two women left, both of them on the phone, and Mike let out a long, tired breath of relief. Fr the first time since that morning, he could really breathe, with nobody around him judging him for his soft heart. Truth was, when Donna had frantically told him what happened, he'd felt his stomach roll with nausea. His grandmother had died only a month ago, he'd been fighting with Rachel, his best friend at the firm, and now he had risked losing Harvey.

Tiredly, Mike pinched the bridge of his nose before walking to the nurses' station and asking where they'd taken him. He was directed to the fifth floor, room 503. He sent an email to Jessica to let her know where they should bring him those files she'd told him, and then took an elevator to said floor. After turning a corner, he spotted Harvey's room at the very middle of the corridor. The door was closed, and a passing nurse told him to sit down on one of the chairs lined against the wall: the doctor was inside making sure the bandages were alright, she explained him. It wouldn't take too long.

Mike sat where he'd been told, and noticed the stylized picture of a pair of wings on the plaque nearby the room number. Harvey had been put in a room with the necessary equipment for a winged person's necessities.

Mike listened to the sounds coming from the other rooms, a man talking to a woman, someone listening to a talk show on tv, and he was grateful Jessica had decided he would have to work despite being in a hospital. Honestly, Mike wouldn't have known how to spend the next five or so hours, and the prospect of having nothing to occupy his mind wasn't the least bit alluring. At least that way he would have something to focus on.

With a sigh, he waited for the doctor to come out of Harvey's room.

- - -

In the end, one of the paralegals from the firm found Mike still sitting on that plastic chair forty three minutes later. He handed him the blue folder and left in less that two minutes, leaving Mike there, getting acquainted with the pro bono case. It was a rather interesting one; a woman who claimed she'd been fired because she had started a relationship with her boss's son.

He'd read the first three introductory pages when the door to Harvey's room opened from the inside and the same doctor he'd met before greeted him.

“Doctor Sendall,” Mike recalled his name and shook his hand. “How's Harvey?”

“He's still sleeping, but he doesn't appear to be in too much pain. I was making sure the bandages on his wings were holding up as they should; healing wings is always much more difficult than dealing with skin, muscles and bones, despite the majority of people thinking it's all about some feathers and nothing more. They're complex structures and their well-being greatly affects a winged person's all around wellness.”

“My grandmother used to say the same.”

“And she was right. Fortunately Mr. Specter is in perfect physical conditions, so I'm sure he'll make a full recovery in a short period of time. I estimate he'll wake up in the next four hours, around six. When he does, please call the nurses. I want to make sure he's visited asap.”

“I will, doctor. Thank you.”

Doctor Sendall left, and Mike stood there for a moment, before he retrieved the folder he'd left on the chair he'd vacated in his haste, and walked to the door of Harvey's room. He took a steadying breath and held it for a moment before walking in.

The scene that greeted him was surreal. In the dim light of the private single room, Harvey was laying on the bed in a medically induced sleep. He was laying on his side, with a pillow supporting his head and neck; his hair were a mess of disheveled dark locks. A line of cushions – or something like that, they looked like big pillows and Mike had no idea what they really were, but that was the purpose they served – put behind his back to make sure he wouldn't roll over in his sleep and crush his injuries. The covers had been gently pulled up to his his waist, leaving only the upper part of his body exposed.

Mike could see Harvey was wearing one of those ugly – and frankly embarrassing – pale blue short sleeved hospital gowns, the back open for obvious reasons. While he was laying on his right side, on the left side of his back Mike saw a white bandage covering the area where the blade had penetrated tender skin and strong muscles alike, right below his ribs. And further down, his eyes followed the expense of Harvey's skin to his lower back, and would have wandered southern if wasn't for the blankets. He blushed at the thought.

What really attracted Mike's attention though, was something else. The wings did. Since he'd discovered their existence, Mike had tried to picture them, never being able to imagine them right. Now they were right in front of him, the right one resting against Harvey's back and on the mattress, feathers twitching slightly in sleep, while the left was outstretched and held in place by a metallic supporting system that impeded any movement, and completely slack.

Harvey's wings were big, bigger than the majority of people's, and huge. Mike estimated that they almost reached down to Harvey's knees when the man was standing. And they were strong looking, with a solid structure, and heavy with all those feathers. God, those feathers… They were white with gold-brown veins that immediately reminded him of Harvey's eyes, and so smooth and soft looking. Mike's fingers hitched with the need to touch them. He imagined them, held wide open; they must have been immense, and imposing, much like Harvey's personality. After all, wings were the reflection of their owner.

Mike knew it was rude to stare at someone's wings without their explicit permission, and to do so while said someone was sleeping was a bit creepy, he had to admit it, but he couldn't help himself. Not only Harvey had wings, but they were the most beautiful ones Mike had ever seen in his life. And yet Harvey had kept them hidden all this time, and he really couldn't understand why – or how.

Taking a closer look, Mike noticed a big patch of feathers on the left wing had been shaved and heavily medicated and bandaged, in correspondence with the wound on Harvey's back. He imagined the blade piercing through the feathers first, and then penetrating Harvey's skin.

In the vividness of this mental representation Mike saw the intention to hurt that had guided the assailant, and the tragic, deadly consequences of their gesture had Harvey not been gifted with wings. He shivered in front of the physical evidence of how close he'd been to losing his boss, his mentor – his friend, the man who'd believed in him for the first time in years, who'd been so king and trusting as to gift him of a new life.

Mike sat down heavily in the small, uncomfortable plastic chair next to Harvey's bed, surveying his friend's sleeping figure once more. Then, with a heavy sigh, he opened the folder and resumed his reading where he'd stopped it. He had a bit over three hours before Harvey woke up, so he'd better occupy them somehow.

- - -

As consciousness slowly found him again, Harvey let out a groan that was muffled by a pillow that definitely didn't smell like his one. Nor did the mattress he was laying on feel like the one of his king sized bed; it was a bit too soft and definitely not big enough.

Harvey opened bleary eyes, his head feeling foggy and strangely light, and was met by the sight of his associate's big baby blues staring back at him from no more that three inches away. Harvey wasn't proud of the squeaky sound he made as he scrambled to get on his back and put some distance between them, much like Mike was a bit ashamed of his own yelp too, but Harvey didn't really mind it when he felt something behind his back that inhibited movement.

That was also the moment he realized that he definitely was not in his condo, but in a tiny hospital room.

“Harvey, stop. Don't do that,” Mike told him as he tried once again to roll on his back, and that's when Harvey felt if.

A puff of fresh hair against the skin of his back, much like he was wearing a hospital gown; a throbbing sensation in his left side, right below the ribs; a stabbing pain that made him moan coming from his left wing. His left wing, which he could see resting on his left side, firmly held in place and probably insensible, unmoving from the effect of the sedatives – Harvey understood all this since the right one was moving frantically, showing his distress to the whole world, thank you very much. His left wing, which was bandaged up and exposed, which Mike could see, was limp and weak.

Harvey let out a low groan of frustration that Mike clearly misinterpreted for pain, because his hand – incredibly soft and with cool slender fingers – found his cheek and caressed him for a minute. Harvey blamed the drugs for leaning into the touch, and discarded the truth: he needed comfort, he didn't know what had happened, and he'd fantasized about Mike touching him for quite a long time.

“Shh, it's okay, you're all right. I'm gonna call the nurse.”

A nurse and a doctor in his forties, both of them with wings, were at his side less than five minutes later, explaining that he'd been brought to the hospital that morning around 11 am, when a woman had found him bleeding out, stabbed and mugged during his morning run. His mind did the math, and a cold feeling pervaded him at the thought that he'd risked death by blood loss, having been left to die almost two hours before the woman found him.

The doctor – Sandals, was his name? - explained the extent of his injuries, and reassured him that his recover would be quick and total. Movement wouldn't be impended, not for his back nor for his left wing. Harvey let out a relieved sigh.

“When can I get out of here?” was the first thing he asked when the doctor finished with his explanation.

“Surely not before tomorrow afternoon, I'm afraid.”

“Why not? There weren't any complications, you said so yourself,” Harvey replied.

He didn't want to be the kind of whiny, complaining patient, but he'd never liked hospitals. And, thinking about it, who did? Apart from those who worked there, but that was a whole different story, then Harvey was pretty sure nobody in their right mind enjoyed being recovered, not even for a brief period of time.

“There weren't, you're right, but I'm concerned for your wing, so I'd prefer you stay overnight, Mr. Specter,” the doctor told him patiently, probably used to dealing with people like Harvey, and his right wing, the one that still could move as it pleased, sagged in defeat.

Obviously the doctor noticed it.

“Mr. Specter, may I ask you, why were your wings wrapped around your chest when you were brought here? I saw them only after I cut off your t-shirt and found an elastic bandage running all around your chest, holding them firmly against your rib cage.”

Harvey's eyes didn't meet the doctor, and for the first time in so many years, he kept silent, not really knowing how to answer convincingly. He really didn't feel like explaining to a total stranger his reasons and motivations, fully well knowing he would be criticized for his inability to appreciate a gift he'd been given.

But wings weren't always a gift, and Harvey knew it pretty well.

The doctor sighed at his silence.

“Mr. Specter, I can't tell you what to do or not to do with your wings. I've seen all kinds of mistreatment against them in my line of work. Pierced wings, tattooed feathers -” Harvey shivered as he went on, fully well knowing that all those kind of 'decorations' were extremely dangerous and implied infections and irreparable damages. “- but let me tell you, keeping them in a cage every day, not allowing them to move, to express themselves, their feelings… it's really no better than that. You're causing them – and yourself – a lot of pain.”

Harvey knew the doctor was right; he knew that bandaging his wings against his chest every day for twelve to sixteen hours wasn't a smart move. He could feel the effect every morning, at the dread he felt in his chest doing it, and every night, when he let them free to move, finally, with enough space to stretch out.

Keeping his head down, he nodded wordlessly.

After that, the doctor probably decided it was enough and dropped the subject. Instead, he reassured him he would be back the following morning for a final examination and to determine whether or not he could be dismissed the following afternoon, and both he and the nurse left.

Harvey was tired, drained even, and he let his eyes fall close as the doctor's frank words still roamed in his head, making him feel guilty, and exposed, and angry.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Shyly, Mike poked his head inside.

The rookie was holding a folder in his right hand and a cup of steaming hot tea in his right.

“Hi,” Mike said, looking everywhere but at Harvey, and that made him angry. Couldn't Mike look at him anymore because of his wings? Was he disappointed Harvey hadn't told him about them before? “I, uh, bought you a cup of tea? I know you prefer coffee, but I'm not sure it would be a great idea right now with all the medication you're on.”

Mike stepped inside the room, carefully looking everywhere but at Harvey, and somehow managed to hand him the cup without spilling any of the content. As Harvey took it, he sat down, angling the chair in such a way he was looking at Harvey's feet, and not his face.

Silently, he propped himself up on his elbow and sipped some of the delicious beverage; 'till then, he hadn't really noticed how thirsty he was. As he did so, he took a good look at Mike. The kid's suit was wrinkled like he'd been sitting on that chair the whole day. He looked tired, the kind of tiredness that was caused by tension more than anything else, and jittery, his right leg moving up and down as he did his best to stop his eyes from moving up Harvey's body and to his face.

And that's when Harvey understood; Mike was trying to avoid looking at his wings, something society deemed disrespectful if done without permission. Harvey'd grown so used to not having such a problem, his wings always concealed underneath his perfectly tailored suits, that he'd not thought about it.

“Mike?” he called after taking another sip of the hot liquid.

“Yes, Harvey?”

“You can look at them, kid. I won't be offended.”

Mike let out an audible sigh of relief, finally raising his eyes and moving them to meet Harvey's – not before lingering even so briefly on his wings, but he couldn't really blame his associate for his curiosity. Even if, Harvey reasoned, he probably had already stared at them when he'd been sleeping.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked.

“Like I've just been stabbed,” he replied with a dark chuckle. Mike didn't smile. He sighed. “Really Mike, I'm fine. The doctor says I'll make a full recovery.”

“I know what he said, he told us. I'm still worried, though.”

“Us?” Harvey hadn't seen anyone apart from Mike, so far.

The rookie nodded. “Yeah, me and Jessica and Donna.”

Harvey grunted. Of course the hospital had called his emergency contacts. And Mike wasn't one of them, he should've known.

“Jessica is back at the firm, and Donna is talking to her friend in the NYPD. Whoever did this to you'll have to face the two toughest women of NYC.”

Harvey smirked. “They've no idea what's coming for them.”

“No, they really don't,” Mike smiled mischievously.

A weird silence fell in the room then. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable one, but still Harvey knew that Mike was bothered. And he also knew what was bothering him. It was understandable, really. The kid was just too polite to approach the subject so soon after he'd woken up. And Harvey, for all his bravado, was more than happy not to talk about his wings. Much like with Dr. Sandals – or whatever the name was – he knew what kind of questions his associate had, and his answers wouldn't be enough.

Most of all, what troubled Harvey wasn't Mike legitimate curiosity – in Mike's place, he'd have been curious, too – but the fear that he'd wounded the kid by never telling him about his wings. He knew that with Mike his secret would've been safe. He also knew that maybe Mike wouldn't understand his reasons for keeping his wings a secret in the first place, but the kid would've been kind enough as to respect his choice.

Now though, now that he'd been told this way, Harvey feared he'd lost his trust. And that wasn't something he could tolerate.

“What's on your mind?” Mike asked then, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Uh, what?”

Mike pointedly looked at his right wing, that was twitchy with nervousness. The traitorous appendage was showing to the whole world how he was feeling, and wasn't that just great? Harvey set his jaw a bit tighter.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I really don't want to talk about it, Mike,” Harvey pleaded.

“Fine, I won't force you to talk about it,” he said. “But once you told me if I had a problem I would have to come to you, there shouldn't be any secrets between us. And I always did, because I thought you would, too. Now I know you didn't, but hey, it's okay! Really, no hard feelings. What's done is done. Only, will you do the same with me from now on, please?”

Harvey bit his lip unconsciously. “I have always told you everything of importance, Mike.”

“No, not really you haven't,” the younger man replied. “I've worked for you – I've worked with you for the past year and a half, and you know everything about me, but you never told me your secret.”

Harvey closed his eyes and sighed. “I never talk about it Mike. I honestly forget about them most of the time,” he murmured, and the feathers of his right wing kept jolting.

Mike glared back at him. “How can you forget about something this beautiful, Harvey? How?”

That angered him. He'd tried to be understanding, but Mike wasn't making it easy.

“Drop it, Mike. They're not beautiful.”

“Yes they are!”

“No they're not! For God's sake, just shut up and go home. Leave me alone already!”

Harvey wished he could erase his words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

He could see from the unleashed tears suddenly filling Mike's eyes that his words had been harsh and had stung way too much.

“You really are a cold bastard, you know?”

“Mike -”

“No, I don't wanna hear it. I – we – almost lost you today, and if we didn't it was only thanks to these amazing wings that you seem to despise so much, to be so ashamed of.”

“Mike, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean what I said.”

“Don't worry, I'll go home and see you back in the office, whenever Jessica'll allow you to come back. I won't bother you anymore with my stupid demands,” Mike spitted, getting up from the chair.

Harvey's hand on his forearm stopped him from leaving the room, though. He knew he'd fucked up, he knew he'd lashed out to Mike only because he was now aware of the existence of his wings, because despite how much he cared for – loved – the kid he hadn't had the opportunity to be the one to tell him about them in the first place, since he was a coward.

Harvey was angry at himself, but had turned his rage and disappointment towards Mike, who didn't have any fault, who had been scared for him, who'd tried to calm him when he'd woken up in a foreign room.

“I'm sorry, Mike. God, I'm an idiot. I'm not… I don't want you to leave. You being here comforts me more than you can imagine. I'm just sorry that you had to find out his way,” Harvey told him, looking at him in the eyes, blue irises liquid with wet tears staring back at him, assessing, evaluating, and, in the end, accepting.

Mike sat back down in the uncomfortable looking chair.

“Why didn't you tell me, Harvey?”

“I wanted to. I did. But it never seemed to be the right time,” Harvey sighed, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mike stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“At the beginning I didn't know you well enough to be sure I could trust you with something like this,” he explained, then, seeing Mike's hurt expression, he added, “Meeting you when you were carrying a briefcase full of pot didn't really give you any points, kid. Neither did getting stone two weeks after our collaboration begun.”

Mike smiled at the memory.

“Then after Tanner, I really felt like I could finally tell you. Loyalty is a two way street, and so is trust. But the chaos with Dennis happened, then as things seemed to come back to normal, Hardman came back. And it never felt like it was the right time.”

“You know I wouldn't have said anything about it, right? Not even during the mock trial to help Louis.”

“I know, kid. I know. And I'm sorry,” Harvey confessed. “I'm sorry I didn't trust you with them from the very beginning. I'm sorry I never told you even though I knew I should have.”

Harvey was really hoping Mike could see that he was being honest, that he really wished things would have gone a different way.

Clearly he did, because next thing he knew, Mike's hand was in his own, and Harvey squeezed it, gently but firmly, and Mike squeezed right back. There was something in his eyes, something intense and vivid that made Harvey shiver and the blood pump faster in his veins. He knew he'd feelings for his associate, but given their job and his own position, Harvey had always done his best to hide them. He'd waited for Mike, silently praying he would someday notice Harvey's feeling, and maybe, if he was really lucky, reciprocate them, even.

Now though, those same feelings, the affection, the fondness, the need, were mirrored on Mike's face, and even his right wing stilled in anticipation as Mike moved forward and pressed his lips against his.

It was a tender kiss, slow and sweet. Almost innocent, just the barest brush of lips against lips. But it was electric, and it sent a jolt of electricity down Harvey's spine, making his feet curl underneath the blankets, and his right wing extend in all its grandeur. Both Harvey and Mike's eyes closed for a second, and then his associate was pulling back, their foreheads touching and their noses bumping into each other.

Harvey opened his eyes again, only to see Mike's blue ones staring back at him, in a timid reply of what's happened only an hour before, now full of wonder and excitement and softness.

Then, somebody knocked on the door, making them both jump and Mike pull back sharply, a guilty look on his face that was erased by another squeeze of his fingers through Harvey's hand. They smiled softly at each other, silently promising that this wasn't over, that they would talk about it later, before Harvey called whoever had interrupted their moment to come in.

It was Jessica, coming with a bouquet of flowers and well-wishes from everybody at the firm. Mike took the opportunity to excuse himself and leave the room, before he could die of spontaneously combustion from the blush on his face. Harvey thought it was adorable, and the way the kid sneaked out faster than Usain Bolt amused him to no end.

Harvey didn't really know what he and Jessica talked about before the sedatives kicked in again and he unceremoniously fell asleep mid-sentence, drooling over the pillow in front of his boss, but he remembered that he thought she must have guessed something was going on, if the twitch at the corner of her lips was anything to go by.

- - -

The following morning found Harvey sitting on his bed, bare feet dangling down in front of him, when Mike knocked at his door and came into the room. The rookie looked a thousand times better than he had the previous night, when a nurse had all but kicked him out well past the end of visiting hours, telling him to go home, sleep and please, take a shower, he could come back to his boyfriend the following day.

(The same nurse had later narrated the crimson color Mike's cheeks had assumed to Harvey, when she'd brought him a cup of tea and some biscuits for a light breakfast. She'd had a knowing, mischievous grin that Harvey'd immediately liked. He'd smiled his million-watts smile and winked in return.)

“Uh, hey,” Mike said, staring at him. “I see they let you get up.”

“Had to use the bathroom,” Harvey shrugged. “Did you sleep alright?”

Mike nodded as he sat down on the mattress on Harvey's right. He could see the kid tried, really tried, not to glance at the back of his gown, that was loosely tied and let everything exposed, but Mike's poker face was nonexistent and he blushed like a fourteen year old schoolgirl. Harvey's wings – both of them free to move, even if the right one was still heavily bandaged up – did nothing to conceal the expense of his pale skin. If possible, they parted to allow Mike a better view.

Harvey was glad – for Mike's sake, not for his own, he'd nothing to worry about – that he was at least wearing boxers.

“Ahem, yeah, yes, perfectly well!” Mike gulped.

Harvey smirked and his right wing jokingly hit Mike's back. The rookie's surprised expression was endearing, and when Harvey's wing hit him again, he turned around and made to touch it, only to stop with his hand hovering inches from its intended target.

“Can I?”

“Of course, Mike.”

The touch of Mike's fingertips against his feathers was delicate and soft, much like his lips had been against Harvey's, and the man licked his bottom lip at the memory of the previous evening. Mike's slender fingers ran through soft fluttering feathers and caressed them softly, and Harvey felt an electric shiver run down his spine. Only very few people had been granted permission to look at his wings, let alone touch them this tender, intimate way.

The majority of his one night stands didn't even know about them – they thought it was one of Harvey's kinks, to have sex with his short-sleeved undershirt on, or sometimes, fully dressed in one of his suits. They thought it was hot, and Harvey didn't mind the misunderstanding.

“They're the softest thing I've ever touched,” Mike confessed him.

“They're no different from every other wings you've seen in your life, Mike.”

“No, you're wrong. They're the most gorgeous ones I've ever seen.”

Harvey sighed. “Mike, really...”

“No, Harvey, I'm serious. Maybe you don't see how beautiful they are, but I do. They're just like you.”

Harvey smiled softly, a pleasant, warm feeling spreading in his chest.

“You saying I'm beautiful?” he asked, teasingly.

Mike's eyes were full of determination and certainty when he replied.

“Of course you are. God, when I first saw you at the Chilton… even Jenny knew I wasn't really into her, she wasn't even all that surprised when I confessed her I had a crush for you,” Mike blurted out. Then he all but smacked his mouth his his hand, eyes growing comically, impossibly wide as realization of what he'd confessed came and panic threatened to overcome him. “Oh my God, sorry. I mean, uh, I didn't mean it. No! I meant it. I just didn't mean to confess it this way. I mean -”

Harvey chuckled then, unable to contain his laughter anymore. He began laughing in earnest, and tears threatened to spill down his eyes, because let's be honest, Mike all rumpled and flushed and almost hysteric was a tremendously funny sight.

“That's not funny! Harvey, come on!” Mike whined, but Harvey didn't even hear him, too busy laughing so much his left side began to hurt.

He clutched at the bandages over his wound and took some calming breaths, doing his best to regain his composure.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he said with a big shit eating grin.

“No, you really aren't,” Mike retorted with a pout.

It only came natural to Harvey to kiss it away in a short but passionate kiss that left Mike smiling and pleasantly surprised.

- - -

Three hours later, Harvey was discharged from the hospital. Dr. Sendall, that was his name, told him that he'd need to take it easy for a week, and somehow Jessica knew it almost as soon as Harvey did, because she called him and promised she would personally escort his sorry ass out of her firm if he so much as tried to put foot in the office before seven days. Harvey suspected Mike spied on him.

Dr. Sendall recommended frequent changes of the bandages on both his back and his wing, and made Harvey promise somebody would be with him at home for the first two days at least. Mike agreeing to temporarily move into Harvey's condo came to nobody's surprise, and Donna arranged for Ray to come and pick them up that afternoon at three pm, but not before she managed to somehow get into Mike's house and put everything necessary for way more than three days into an overnight bag. She also made sure someone from Harvey's condo would come to his house and stock the fridge with fresh food, not to mention change the sheets in the guest bedroom. Harvey made a mental note to thank Emilia and Annette, his two housekeepers.

When Mike left them alone to answer a phone call from the firm, Dr. Sendall made Harvey promise to at least consider the idea of not keeping his wings hidden anymore, for his own sake as well as their own. The consequences of being tied up for so long every day for years could be very serious, he explained Harvey. He passed him a business card from one of his colleagues, who would be happy to help him discuss whatever issue he seemed to have regarding his feathery appendages, he said. Harvey took the card and promptly changed the subject as Mike walked back into the room. Dr. Sendall sighed and left soon after.

When finally three pm rolled around, Harvey signed all the due papers and changed into pair of track pants and a long sleeved t-shirt Mike bought from the small gift shop at the ground floor of the hospital. His shoes were definitely too big, but they would do. Mike helped him get on his feet and together they took the elevator down to the parking lot.

Harvey was acutely aware of the fact that – for the first time in years – he was walking around with his wings in plain sight. It felt strange, and he sighed heavily when the doors of the elevator closed behind them.

“You alright?” Mike asked.

Harvey nodded. “Yea, it's just… I feel exposed, that's not something I'm used to.”

Mike squeezed his right shoulder in silent reassurance, but said nothing. Harvey knew how he felt about Harvey and his wings, he'd made no secret of his disapproval regarding Harvey's habits of keeping them hidden.

When the elevator reached its intended destination, they walked together out of the doors and Mike gestured towards the black town car that was waiting for them.

“Ray's there.”

“Okay, let's go,” Harvey said.

As they approached the car, Ray's door opened and the driver got out. Harvey didn't know if the flash of surprise on his face was due to his wings, fluttering happily in the warm afternoon air, or his overall appearance – Ray had never seen him wear anything but suits, let alone sporting a one day old beard and with messy hair – but professional as he'd always been, he hid his surprise pretty fast and didn't comment on it.

“Harvey! It's nice to see you. You look good.”

Harvey smiled and got inside the car, Mike soon following on the opposite side, and Ray taking the driver's seat again.

“You should tell Jessica that, she's banned me from the office for one whole week.”

“Eh, I really don't think Miss Pearson will change her mind only because of me.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” Harvey joked, and both Mike and Ray laughed.

The car was already moving smoothly through the busy streets of Manhattan. Some soft jazz was playing in the background, making Harvey relax a bit. In the relative privacy of the vehicle, he didn't feel like everybody was looking at him with morbid curiosity anymore, and he could breathe a bit easily. That was one of the reasons he disliked displaying his wings so much. They attracted way too much attention.

“A small vacation will do you some good, Harvey,” Ray said.

“Yeah, how long has it been since you took a day off work, anyway?” Mike asked.

“Not that long.”

“Yes, that long!” Ray interjected. “I've been your driver for the past five years Harvey, and I don't recall you going on vacation once.”

“Geez, Harvey! Not that long, you said?”

“I was busy being the best closer of this city and making senior partner, rookie. Try and learn one or two things from me.”

Ray snorted and Mike pouted.

The rest of the drive went by relatively quietly, and in less than half an hour they were in front of Harvey's condo. Harvey took a deep, steadying breath before opening the door on his side of the car, bracing himself for the inevitable stares that would come from the doorman once they would walk inside. He suspected both Mike and Ray knew exactly what he was doing, because none of them questioned him about his stalling.

Finally, he opened the door, and Mike did the same on the other side of the car.

“Thank you Ray, and have a nice week.”

“See you, Ray!” Mike waved.

“Take care of yourself, Harvey. Bye, Mike!”

Harvey closed the car's door behind him and walked to the entrance of the building, Mike right behind him. Once inside, he notice Carl the doorman was on duty. The man had been working there since well before Harvey bought his condo, and his eyes grew comically wide as Harvey stepped in.

“Mr… Specter? Uh, good a-afternoon, sir,” he stuttered.

Harvey smiled sadly. This was exactly the kind of reaction he was talking about. He'd known Carl for years and they always talked about the Yankees when they met – the man was a huge fan, much like Harvey himself. Harvey had even met his daughter and his second wife once and, even if he wouldn't call the man a friend, they'd never had any problems chatting amiably. Now Carl couldn't even properly look at him without staring at his wings, and since that was considered rude by society, he wasn't looking at Harvey at all.

“Good evening Carl, how's your wife?”

“She's, uh, she's fine.”

Harvey nodded. “Good,” and walked a bit faster towards the elevators, head down staring at the floor, because it was easier than looking at someone who couldn't really look back at him.

He could feel Mike glaring at the doorman as the doors closed and the elevator begun its ride, but he didn't say anything, and when they reached his floor, Harvey unlocked the door and got inside his condo.

Mike'd already been there before, that night, when he'd been drunk out of his ass, but it was the first time he stepped inside. Harvey saw how impressed he was by the huge spaces.

“You want something to drink?”

“What? Oh, no, thanks. Also, I think I should be the one offering to bring you a glass of water, not the only way around. I'm here to help you,” Mike said.

But Harvey wasn't thirsty. He was feeling tired all of a sudden, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down for a bit, crawl under his comforter, collect his thoughts, and maybe sleep.

“Come on, I'll show you your room,” Harvey said.

That morning at the hospital, when Mike had immediately offered to stay at Harvey's, and then they'd kissed passionately once the doctor had left, he'd thought that they wouldn't need to use the guest bedroom at all. But now, after Ray's surprise and seeing Carl speechless, he didn't really feel like sharing his bed with anyone. Even his wings were lowered in defeat, flattened against his back. He was pretty sure Mike noticed how still they were, a stark contrast from the previous day, and that same morning in the hospital.

“Are you okay, Harvey?” Mike asked tentatively, following him down the short corridor.

“Yeah, sure. So, anyway, this is the guest bedroom,” Harvey muttered opening the first door on the right; on the freshly made bed rested Mike's bag, full of clothes and personal items. “And right in front of it there's the guest bathroom,” he added, opening the door on the opposite side of the corridor. “Make yourself at home. I'll go lay down for a while.”

Harvey could sense Mike looking at him carefully.

“Harvey, are you sure you're okay? You look-”

“Yes, of course. Just tired. See you later, kid,” he tried for a smile, failing miserably if Mike's grimace was anything to go by, before he retreated to his own room, leaving the rookie there, wondering what had happened to change his mood so drastically.

As he opened the door, Harvey took a deep relieved breath. His bedroom was the sanctuary where problems and doubts weren't allowed to enter, and he immediately felt a bit better stepping in – even if today, the doubts and bitterness remained firmly with him, but he'd expected so much. It was a big room, the only one with a personal touch and a few frames resting on a shelf on the right. There was a king sized bed right in the middle of it, with a dark gray comforter with blue abstract lines in it.

Harvey walked to the en suite bathroom, peed, washed his hands, and then came back to the bed, pulling back the comforted before he gingerly sat down. His side was starting to hurt – nothing he wasn't expecting, the doctor had warned him about it – but he didn't take the prescribed pills and he carefully lied on his right side before pulling the covers up to his chin.

He stretched his right wing and let the left one rest against his side, right over the bandages, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

When he was a kid, Harvey had been happy to display his wings to the world. His mom and his brother didn't have them, but his father did, and he'd always been proud of that incredible man. Years later, as he discovered his mom's dirty little secret and his brother started to resent him for a variety of reasons – being bright, being smart, being successful with the girls and, later on, going to law school, all in all just being who he was, meaning a winner – Harvey begun thinking that maybe it was all because of those damned wings, that now appeared more like a curse than anything else. They were the reason why he was successful, his brother had once told him when he'd found Harvey making out with the girl he liked behind the school's football field. That's made him feel guilty for months, trying to make it up to someone who would never be happy and grateful – that's just who Marcus was.

His mom convinced him not to tell his father what he'd seen as a teenager, promising she would never bring another man home, never again, and pleaded him to keep the secret.

“Because you're a good boy, Harvey, your wings say so, so honor your gift and don't say anything. You owe your wings that much at least.”

He'd started hating them after that, and when he was out of high school and found a job in the mailroom of what would later become Pearson Hardman, he begun wrapping his wings up and hiding them. None of his colleagues ever knew about them, nor did Jessica or, later, his teachers at Harvard.

And suddenly Harvey found his life a bit easier. Yes, he was still the person everybody came to, to have their problems fixed. He was the one everybody counted on to take care of difficult situations, but that wasn't because they thought that, having wings, that was his duty, that was something he had to do. People never tricked him again into doing what he didn't want. They didn't have that leverage anymore.

They couldn't walk all over him simply because his wings screamed to the whole world that Harvey Specter actually cared.

Now, people came to him because he was good at what he did, because he had it in him to become the best closer in New York. People didn't judge him anymore when he did something less than excellent, they didn't look at him in disappointment when he gambled – and won, always won, because he was good, because he played the man and could read people, not because they let him win – or raced on his dad's car on Saturday night with his friends when he was seventeen and stupid, or drank a bit too much scotch because he was fucking tired of his mom's lies and his father's blindness or his brother's troubles.

And now all that would start again. Because even if Jessica and Mike didn't spill his secret, Harvey knew that sooner or later people would understand. Once whoever stabbed him was brought in front of a jury and a judge for trial, his condition would be revealed. Same went if the guy could cut a deal with the police, because having stabbed his wing he'd committed a major crime against Harvey's person. And once just one policeman knew…

Harvey's headache grew with every passing scenario, and in the end he slipped into an uneasy sleep, his wings fidgeting and antsy.

- - -

Mike sat on the edge of the guest bedroom, mindlessly pulling his stuff out of the bag and putting it into the closet, thinking about Harvey's abrupt mood change. Mike really couldn't understand it. Had he done something wrong? He'd been sure Harvey was okay as he signed the release papers, and couldn't pinpoint the moment when everything had gone to hell.

He'd actually been pretty sure Harvey wouldn't put him in the guest bedroom like he was any other guest. Sure, their mutual feelings had become evident only the previous day, but Mike had really hoped they could explore them during these days of relative peace. Now that they had the opportunity of being alone, this was the right moment, he'd thought. Clearly Harvey wasn't of the same opinion.

Mike was almost finished with the last pair of briefs – and he was quite embarrassed Donna had rummaged through his drawers for his boxers – when a sound made him stop what he was doing. It sounded like a moan, a pained one, and it was coming from Harvey's room.

Mike walked down the corridor in relative silence and reached the older man's closed door. He stood there still, carefully listening for any other sound coming from the inside of the room. And there it was, less than a minute later, a soft whine.

“Harvey?” Mike called, unwilling to enter the room without the man's permission.

But when not reply came and he heard another moan, Mike knocked softly on the door and then got inside.

Harvey's room was just like Mike had imagined it to be. And yes, he'd spent more than enough time to think about Harvey's bed, not that it was anybody's goddamn business. Now the shades were pulled and in the dim light, Mike saw Harvey's form tossing and turning around in bed, moaning in pain. Harvey's right wing was jerking obnoxiously, wide movements cutting the air and uncomfortable looking spasms pushing the comforter away from Harvey's body. Distress, was what it was signaling.

Mike stepped closer to the bed, seeing the frown on Harvey's face, the pain written all over it. And then he realized Harvey had turned in his sleep and was now laying on his left side, the wounded one. No surprise he was moaning.

Mike carefully put a hand on Harvey's shoulder.

“Harvey? Wake up,” he called. “Harvey, please.”

He gently shook the man awake, and as he did, Harvey turned on his back, and fuck, that was absolutely not okay! Mike wasn't a doctor, not even a fake one despite Harvey's jokes, but he knew that compressing such a fresh wound was no good. Still, as Harvey blinked his eyes open, Mike saw them clouded with confusion and filled with tears of pain.

“Harvey, you're crushing your wound,” Mike tried to explain to the older man, whose eyes still looked foggy and distant. “Can you roll on your right side?”

Harvey's eyes finally moved from staring blankly at the ceiling to Mike's face.

“Mike?”

He smiled. “Yes, Harvey, it's me. Can you follow my directions?”

“It hurts.”

“I know. Roll on your right side Harvey, come on,” Mike encouraged him, his hands on Harvey's side gently prompting him to turn as he'd been asked to.

Harvey let out a loud grunt – had he been a lesser man, Mike knew it would have been a wail of pain – but slowly began doing as Mike'd asked him.

“Good, that's great Harvey,” Mike told him, his hand unconsciously finding Harvey's cheek and caressing it, moving away the locks of hair that had stuck to his forehead. “I'll go get you a glass of water and one of those pills Dr. Sendall gave you, okay? Be right back.”

Mike left the room in a hurry, going to the kitchen and finding a glass in one of the cabinets. He filled it with tap water and then found the pills the doctor had given his boss, which had been left on the counter nearby his keys. He rapidly took two of them in his hand and then walked back to Harvey's room, where the man was fortunately still laying on his side like Mike'd told him, though he was arching his back and then trying to get in fetal position, probably looking for the least painful position he could find.

Mike touched Harvey's cheek to catch his attention.

“Here are your pills. Come on, I'll help you swallow them,” he said, knowing how uneasy Harvey's current position was for gulping down both pills and water.

He put a hand on Harvey's neck, supporting his head as he did his best to drink without spilling too much water on the pillow and mattress. They mostly succeeded, but it looked like it'd been an inhuman effort on Harvey's part and, add the stabbing pain coming from the left side of his back, he was panting like he'd run a marathon as Mike put the now empty glass on the nightstand. His cheeks were flushed and sweaty, but his breath was easing back to a mostly normal pace.

“Feeling a bit better?” Mike asked when Harvey opened his eyes, 'till then screwed shut.

“A bit. Thank you, Mike.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll be in my room, but call me if you need anything,” he replied, ready to leave Harvey to his privacy, when he noticed the look of sadness filling his brown eyes.

“Stay.” Harvey said, and it wasn't a request.

“Are you sure?”

Harvey nodded, so Mike walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers behind Harvey, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands and how much distance he should leave between them.

His doubts were pushed aside by Harvey's right wing, all but wrapping itself around his back and firmly pulling him forward until he was right against Harvey's back. The space between his shoulder blades where the feathers started was simply perfect for him to rest his head, and he did just that when Harvey's hand found his wrist and pulled his arms around his torso. Mike was all but spooning him, and it was the most comfortable he'd ever been in. he couldn't really help himself when he placed a sweet kiss against Harvey's back.

Harvey moaned sleepily, clearly the pills had begun working and he was already falling back in the land of Morpheus.

“Shh. Sleep,” he murmured, and Harvey's soft snore was the only reply he received.

- - -

The following days went on just the same. Harvey was still in a great deal of pain and Mike fixed him a light soup and cuddled with him for the vast majority of the day. The only difference was a visit from Donna in the early evening of the second day, bringing him pizza – that woman was simply a goddess, no other word could describe her – and Harvey some more chicken soup and crackers. They kept him company as he ate and then left him, moving to the living room where Mike wolfed down his pizza and Donna told him his manners were the ones of a three year old toddler.

She kept Mike some company and narrated Louis' latest horrible disaster which had made the firm lose a very healthy client, showing him a picture of the man's flustered face as he left Jessica's office after the woman had screamed at him for half an hour. Mike'd never heard Jessica raise her voice and he prayed he never would. Donna simply described the experience as 'terrifyingly amusing', probably because it was Louis who'd been the black woman's target.

She finally left around ten, quietly getting into Harvey's room to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. Harvey was sleeping so profoundly he didn't even blink.

The following day Harvey decided for a change of scenery and moved to the living room, where he and Mike watched a Star Trek marathon. He was feeling way better, could move much more easily and Mike was relieved seeing how little painkillers he needed. They'd changed the bandages that morning and the wound seemed to be healing well. They spent the day together on the couch, and Mike found a new love for Mr. Spock watching the old episodes of the original series. Shame he couldn't do the Vulcan salute, which he tried repeatedly failing every single time. That made Harvey laugh and then clutch at his side when the laughter made it hurt.

“Serves you just right,” Mike snickered at him.

Harvey was laying between his legs, his back against Mike's chest, a pillow supporting his back and his wings resting against Mike's side like they were made for it.

Harvey turned his head and looked at him, eyes clear and bright.

“You don't treat me any differently. I like that.” Mike made a questioning noise. “Because of my wings, I mean. You don't treat me any differently because of them.”

“Why would I?”

“Everybody does. Everybody did.”

“Is that what upset you so much the other day? When we came home,” Mike clarified, using the word home for the first time while referring to Harvey's condo. But it felt right, this felt like home much more than his little apartment did. Being with Harvey felt like home.

“Yes. I don't want people to look at me differently because of my wings.”

“Nobody would ever do something like that, Harvey. You're still you,” Mike said, making it so simple, too simple.

“Everybody does, Mike. They see the wings, they think they can manipulate me. The clients won't believe I can bend the rules for them and play a little dirty if necessary. Other firms will think they already won just because of them. The partners won't believe I can be good enough to have my name on the door someday. They'll judge, and talk.”

“Then show them you can!” Mike exclaimed. “I've never seen you back down from a fight before, never seen you care of what people think of you. Your wings won't change that.”

“They will. They always did. That's why I decided to hide them when I got out of college.”

Mike's nose nuzzled Harvey's temple and his unruly hair. “You're the best closer this city has ever seen. You're one of the best closers of our Country. These wings, they don't change it. And they don't change the way I look at you,” Mike kissed his cheek as his hands found Harvey's and squeezed reassuringly. “I always knew you were a good guy Harvey, even if I didn't know you had wings. The way you defended Donna in front of Louis, how you brought her back… How you believed in me…” he trailed off.

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, just comforted by the other's presence, feeling complete like they never had before, and Mike's eyes were filled with tears when Harvey's wings enveloped him in a warm hug, squeezing him in a grateful embrace that expressed all of Harvey's fear, and gratitude, and affection all at once.

“Your wings don't define who you are Harvey. But they certainly are a part of you. Let people understand it.”

- - -

As Harvey came back to work ten days after the mugging happened, left side still tender and lips still swollen from all the kissing and licking and biting of that morning – and the four nights and mornings before that – there were more than one incidents on the fiftieth floor of Pearson and Kiss My Ass, as Harvey had once called it.

When he got out of the elevator, two associates walking by with hands full of legal papers bumped into each other, sending pages all over the floor.

One of the receptionist had been answering the phone. “Pearson – what the fuck?”

A junior partner spilled coffee all over the floor, another ruined his own suit, a woman's cup fell on an associate's dress and three second-degree burns were medicated that morning.

A secretary walked right into a wall.

Harvey Specter was wearing one of his three piece suits, the dark blue one that clad his ass and made him look incredibly good – Mike's words, not that Harvey didn't already know it, given the fact that since Renee had detected his interest towards his associate, he'd tailored all his suits to show off all his assets. And Mike had noticed them a long time ago. His hair had been combed perfectly, his smirk was firmly set in place, and he was all in all the most confident and elegant man of the firm as he walked down the corridor with Mike at his side.

His wings were held proudly high for the whole world to see.