A/N - Hope you guys enjoy my very first Suits fic! Not sure how long this will be but I'm hoping to throw some Angsty-Mike and Fatherly-Harvey in there, because I want to fangirl as I write :')

"Mike, go home. Eugh, don't come near me, I can't afford to be sick." Harvey didn't glance up from his computer as he typed.

"Harvey, you're so rich you could afford for the whole state to be sick."

"Hey, you don't know how much money I make, so just stop talking and leave." He looked up and arched an eyebrow. "You're as white as…something really, really white."

"Wow, that's a quality simile right there. Look, it's probably just a cold, I'll get over it. I need to stay – I have a really interesting case about-"

"Uh-uh, zip it. You're taking the rest of the night off, end of discussion. Think how badly it would reflect on me if my associate got the whole firm sick?"

Mike deliberated for a moment and then asked, feigning concern, "And you're sure you'll be fine without me for a whole five hours?!"

Harvey gave him a look that said seriously? Get real. "I will be much more than fine, Mike. I will be awesome. You actually hold me back, in fact."

Mike rolled his eyes and picked up his suit jacket from the couch. "Fine. But I'm coming in tomorrow no matter what you say."

Amused, Harvey said, "And since when is it your choice whether or not to listen to me?"

"Since always, you just assume that I actually follow your instructions." Mike turned to leave, with a victorious little smile plastered on his face.

"Oh and one more thing…" The older man said.

Mike turned around with his coat over his shoulder.

"State? Try country." Harvey smirked and went back to typing.

Mike laughed and said, "Goodbye, Harvey."

As he walked toward the elevators, he couldn't help but think exactly how much Harvey Specter made…

As he approached his apartment, Mike realized that he didn't feel too well after all, and silently thanked Harvey for his order of the night off. It was cold for 7:30 and he was entirely ready to have some tea and sleep in a warm bed.

For some reason, though, Mike's plans never seemed to go accordingly…as he hopped off his bike, someone yanked his brief case off his shoulder and ran into the alley beside his apartment building.

"Hey!" Mike called angrily. He ditched his bike and ran after him. Before he could even realize that the extreme darkness in the alley made it nearly impossible for him to see, Mike was slammed against the brick wall by a pair of strong hands.

His head quickly began to throb and he threw his arms up above his head to protect himself.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to sound fierce but failing miserably.

There was no response except from another guy, a few metres away – the one who lured Mike into the alley in the first place. "There's nothing in here but a couple of pencils and an apple."

Mike grinned to himself amidst the fear, remembering that he had left all documents, files and even his wallet at Pearson Hardman. He practically lived there anyway. His grin quickly faded as he remembered that he really did not need to chase this thug into a dark alley because of a few pencils and an apple...he mentally kicked himself and then focused on this situation he had gotten himself into.

The guy holding Mike suddenly punched him in the gut and the associate was winded.

"Ahhhhh…damnit," he gasped. "I'm gonna have you both sued for physical assault and harassment-"

"Hey, pretty boy!" A punch to the face this time made Mike cringe in pain. He was then tossed unceremoniously to the ground with a 'thud'. "You really think you're in a position to be making threats right now?!"

Mike closed his eyes and decided that this was indeed a bad time to be making threats. He opened his eyes again and discovered that they had grown accustomed to the dark, so he took a good look at the two men.

The one currently kicking him: approximately 35, 6 ft 2, 200 lbs., short blond hair, a sad excuse for a beard, a tattoo of a…snake? (oh please, there are so many better things to get a tattoo of) on his right forearm and an intimidating, muscular build. Let's call him…Joe.

Mike scrambled to stand up and become less vulnerable to an attack.

Joe saw and, roughly stepping on Mike's chest with one foot to keep him on the ground, turned around to his partner. "Hey, gimme a hand over here if the brief case came up empty."

The second guy: 30, 6 feet, scrawnier, maybe 170 lbs., brown hair, no tattoos, rather clean cut for a tough guy. Let's call him…Matt.

Matt came over and knelt beside Mike, rummaging around in his pockets.

"You're not gonna find anything there so just save yourselves the trouble. Go find a bank to rob because trust me, I'm not as rich as I look."

Matt continued the search anyway, grabbing Mike's expensive-looking watch off his wrist. Joe turned around momentarily to make sure no one was watching this little exchange and Mike seized his opportunity.

He mustered up all the strength he had, already being sick and weak, and punched Matt in the face. The brunette grunted and fell backwards. Mike stood up as Joe turned back around and ran the opposite way as fast as he could. He almost turned the corner back to civilization, when Joe jumped on his back and they both went crashing to the ground.

They exchanged kicks and punches for a bit but Mike soon found himself pinned and exhausted.

"I don't like you very much, kid." Joe slammed his head into the concrete as Mike was thinking, Yeah well, I'm not too fond of you either.

The lawyer welcomed the darkness that overcame his as Joe punched him one last time, just for good measure.