Mike stirs when he feels warm breath tickle the side of his neck, a hand splay over his stomach. He shifts, sighs.
“Didn’t hear you come in.” He gets a murmur in response, a soft kiss on his bare shoulder. “How was work?”
The arm around him tightens.
Harvey plants a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the back of Mike’s neck, slides his hand up to cover Mike’s chest, mumbles out a reply into Mike’s skin. “Tired of talking.”
Mike laughs under his breath. “No you’re not.”
Harvey rubs his thumb over Mike’s chest. “The new CEO of McKernon Motors wants to move production overseas. Keep the name, but give it to a shoddier product.”
“And you’re trying to find a way to stop him.”
Mike doesn’t ask why it’s important, doesn’t ask why he even cares.
Harvey nudges and pulls on Mike until Mike flips over to face him.
A smile tugs at the corners of Harvey’s lips and he leans forward, kisses Mike, rubs his thumb over Mike’s lower lip before closing his eyes, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.
It takes very little time for Harvey to fall asleep, and Mike watches his chest rise and fall rhythmically for a few minutes before he slips out of bed in a pair of Harvey’s pajama pants and walks out of their bedroom, picking up the copy of McKernon Motors bylaws sitting on one of their living room chairs. He settles in the middle of the couch, crosses his legs, and flips on the lamp next to him.
Eighteen hundred pages.
It takes him six hours to find it.
He pulls the page out of the bylaws, stands with a stretch, and shuffles into their bedroom to find Harvey awake, his eyes glued to Mike, one hand behind his head.
Mike shrugs, sits down on the bed next to Harvey’s hip, smiles when Harvey’s hand reaches over to trail along his thigh. “Six hours. Just about.”
Harvey shakes his head, pushes his head back further into his pillow when Mike rises and straddles his hips. Harvey’s hands grasp Mike’s hips, rub circles on Mike’s skin, dip thumbs beneath the blue-striped waistband. “Tell me.”
Mike holds up the page he removed from the bylaws. “Page two thirty eight, clause one thirty seven states that in the event of the CEO’s death, an interim CEO will be appointed until the board convenes an election vote, which, in this case, is next Thursday. Stensland isn’t CEO, so-"
“The board can’t vote on the sale of the land. Not until they vote him in as CEO.”
The paper drops out of Mike’s hand and flutters to the floor as Harvey leans up and kisses his neck, mouths along Mike’s jaw. His hands curl over Mike’s hips and smooth along his lower back, sliding under the waistband of Mike’s borrowed pajama pants, grasping Mike’s ass with bruising fingers, pulling him closer.
Harvey nibbles on Mike’s earlobe and Mike closes his eyes with an exhale.
“Sure you don’t want to get your degree?”
Mike runs his fingers through Harvey’s sleep-mussed hair, dances over the crinkles at the corners of Harvey’s eyes. He grins. “Yep.”
Harvey shakes his head, mouths at Mike’s neck. “Remind me again why that is.”
Mike shifts his hips closer, wraps his arms around Harvey’s shoulders, opens his eyes to see a slice of early morning light cutting across their duvet, just barely grazing the side of Mike’s thigh.
“Because then we couldn’t have this.”