Harvey shuffled out of the bedroom and didn’t bother to cover his mouth as he yawned widely; it was Sunday morning and there was no need for him to be polite, as only Mike would see it and Mike didn’t care. He smiled and his eyes immediately sought out the younger man who’d left their bed far too early for Harvey’s liking. He was probably watching cartoons, Harvey thought, half condescending and all fond.
Mike was actually in the kitchen, apparently attempting to cook. By executive decision, Harvey decided this was a bad idea, because the last time (incidentally, the first time) Mike had tried to cook the two of them breakfast, he’d burned the unsuspecting, innocent scrambled eggs he’d chosen to victimise.
Although, it was entirely possible that the whole incident was actually due to Harvey getting carried away at the sight of Mike in his kitchen for the first time, on a morning after the night before, and on the Sunday morning of their first weekend together. Mike had been wearing one of Harvey’s old Harvard t-shirts (scavenged from a drawer and hanging loose on his leaner frame) above Mike’s own boxers (rescued from the floor.) Mike had been wandering barefoot around his kitchen, and Harvey hadn’t been able to resist.
So Harvey could maybe admit that the disaster had more to do with Mike’s appearance than Mike’s culinary ineptitude. Still, Harvey thought, why pass off the chance for some gentle ribbing, even if a whole three weeks later? He walked further into the condo where Mike - once again barefoot, in boxers and another stolen t-shirt - could see him. “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”
Harvey could actually smell pancakes, and he watched as Mike looked over, then down at the batter with a smirk. He was clearly remembering the last incident too, when he replied, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
He raised an eyebrow. He offered up one of the most famous movie quotes of all time, from one of the most critically acclaimed war movies, and Mike gave him a one-liner from a romantic comedy? Oh, it was on, Harvey decided, walking forward and giving Mike a carefully constructed nonchalant shrug. “Who wants to eat flies?” He replied, “Not when I can get nice, fat spiders.”
Take that, Mike, Harvey thought, keeping his face perfectly placid as he entered the kitchen area. Mike’s eyes narrowed until he placed the quote, at which point he rocked back on his heels, “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate,” Harvey pressed himself against Mike’s body, taking care to turn off the hob this time. Pancakes could wait, he had a quote-off to win.
Mike’s arms wrapped around Harvey’s waist as he pulled their hips flush. “You talkin’ to me?”
Harvey was of the opinion that it was a little weak, but considering he was playing with the nape of Mike’s neck, he supposed he was being unfair. Mike was retaliating with the gentle press of his fingers in the crease at the top of his thighs, and he’d blame that distraction for why all he could think of was: “Who is Keyser Soze?”
The smirk that stretched across Mike’s face was all Harvey’s and it was beautiful. He replied, “I double dare you, motherfucker, say ‘what’ one more time.”
By their undefined, never remarked upon rules, it was a good play; mostly because Harvey had something of a weakness for Mike swearing. He was disgustingly good at it, and Harvey supposed it had something to do with the angelic look he could pull off and still be letting the most filthy things fall from his mouth. That mouth, that curled around the ‘what’ so deliberately, drawing Harvey’s eyes just as Mike had wanted.
“As God as my witness,” Harvey flicked his eyes up to Mike’s, squeezing the back of his neck gently. “I’ll never be hungry again.”
Mike smiled softly, taking the message for what it was, before he rolled his shoulders and took on the bravado again, “Who died and made you fucking king of the zombies?”
Harvey couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face at the more obscure quote. “We’re on a mission from God,” he countered.
With narrowed eyes and an irrepressible smile, Mike ruined an open goal, but they were barely playing the game now, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
Deciding to bring this little battle to a close and get onto more pressing, pleasurable endeavours, Harvey brought out the big guns. He quirked an eyebrow, wished he had some scotch to complete the slam-dunk (but with it being barely ten on a Sunday, it was hardly appropriate) and donned the accent, “Well, if this is it old boy, I hope you don’t mind if I go out speaking the King’s.”
This close, he saw Mike’s pupils dilate and felt the long line of Mike’s cock brush his hip as he bucked ever so slightly. He’d never pulled out accents before in their games, but perhaps it was worth further investigation some time; that certainly was an interesting reaction, Harvey thought. For now, he just nudged his nose against Mike’s gently, breath teasing over his mouth. He’d almost won...
Mike swallowed loudly, and Harvey wondered if Mike would concede defeat with a kiss.
“What you want,” Mike’s voice was ragged, “is irrelevant. What you’ve chosen is at hand.”
Harvey pulled back in surprise and watched the shit-eating grin spread across Mike’s flushed face. It was perfect. It was beautiful. Mike had quoted... and it blew Harvey out of the water. He conceded defeat and pushed Mike into the kitchen counter, kissing him fiercely and pouring everything into their touches. It was such a silly little trigger, but suddenly Harvey felt as if he couldn’t possibly get close enough to Mike, couldn’t ever have enough. He loved Mike, absolutely, completely, and he’d been fairly sure before but this was something else; all-consuming and possessive.
Mike was pressing back as strongly, his right leg lifted up to curl around Harvey’s thighs and pull him closer - as if they could possibly get any closer - and his hands pushing up Harvey’s t-shirt.
Pulling on Mike’s bottom lip with his teeth in just the way Mike loved, Harvey knew he had to say something about this feeling bubbling through him. He avoided Mike’s attempt to continue the kiss and moved his hands up to cup Mike’s face. He drew his thumbs over Mike’s cheekbones and held his - lover, boyfriend, ‘associate’, partner’s - gaze. “I love you.”
They hadn’t said those words, not yet, though it was clear they both felt it. It just hadn’t really seemed like the right time, or even necessary. It wasn’t as if they’d just fallen into bed together, gotten drunk enough to throw caution to the wind. They hadn’t talked about it explicitly, though. After a fairly mediocre day which had involved no wins or losses in court, no shocking discoveries or office tensions (beyond the usual with Louis), Harvey had simply turned to Mike - who had been flipping through Harvey’s records yet again and still without recrimination - and had invited him around for pizza, movies and a couple of beers.
He remembered the very deliberate way Mike had pushed the vinyl back into its cover - he couldn’t remember which one - and turned silently to face Harvey.
Harvey wasn’t even nervous, he had been strangely certain that Mike would say yes. For his part, Mike had looked a little shocked, but more that the offer had come now than at all. Then Mike had smiled, a small turn of his lips which came with a nod; they’d agreed to leave in a few hours and Mike went back to pulling random records from the shelf and memorising the tracks.
Mike still hadn’t found Harvey’s system, and Harvey was loath to tell him yet that there wasn’t one. He was looking forward to the look on Mike’s face when he figured it out.
That night, Mike had left his bike at the office, slipped into the car beside Harvey, and they’d watched Blade Runner with pizza (cheese in the crust for Mike, not for Harvey) and had two beers each. They’d talked over the ending, turned the player off and put the rolling news on a low volume; Mike had made some stupid comment, Harvey had replied with the expected and fondly delivered put-down, and Mike had simply leaned in to cut Harvey off mid-sentence.
So really, it was a good thing that their first ‘I love you’ wasn’t a big deal because Mike gazed back seriously and replied, “I know.”
The laugh burst out of Harvey and made Mike match the beaming smile, “Okay, you lose this round.”
“Oh, come on!” Mike complained through his chuckles, “You have to admit that was pretty good.”
“You repeated yourself,” Harvey pulled Mike back in for a kiss, “That’s not allowed.”
Shrugging, Mike slid a hand up to further mess up Harvey’s bed hair and Harvey wished his life could be made up of lazy Sunday mornings with Mike, especially when Mike mumbled into his mouth, “I love you too.”
There was only one appropriate response as far as Harvey was concerned, and it didn’t even matter if it was a misquote this time: “I know.”