Hey all! First, this is NOT part of the "Subspace" verse. It's an independent one-shot. Please excuse errors, it's decidedly un-betaed :/

Enjoy! And please, if you dig it, review.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Harvey says as he walks up to Mike on the loading curb outside IKEA. He has his douchebag sunglasses on and is driving one of the flashiest of his car club borrows. Griped casually in his left hand is a grande Starbucks - probably a hazelnut-double-shot-non-fat-something-something.

"That's the car you brought?" Mike is wiping sweat from his forehead and wishing he'd thought to do this on a less sweltering day. Harvey looks over his shoulder and back to Mike with a look of annoyance. "You called me two and a half hours ago. What did you expect?"

"I dunno, you had that SUV thing last week!"

"The Range Rover?"

"Yeah."

"That wasn't from the car club, Mike. Don't you have any concept of how - No, of course you don't. That was a rent-a-car for the conference in Boston."

"Okay, whatever. I'm hot and tired and I wanna go home."

"Fine. Which one is it?" Harvey looks around at the swarm of people surrounding the loading spaces and the dozen or so flat carts.

Mike grabs his crayon blue handle and jiggles it. "Here."

Harvey stares at the stack of three long boxes, a massive heavy looking cube, and one canvas roll of unfinished bed frame slats.

"That's furniture?"

"It's a Folldal and a couple of Hemnes."

"What the fuck is a Flowdoe?"

"No, a - " Mike exhales dramatically, clenches the cart handle until his knuckles turn white, and rubs his eyes in an effort to defuse his irritation. "It's a bed frame and two night-stands. Haven't you ever been to IKEA?"

"No, of course not. It's for poor people. Poor cheap people."

"Harvey!" Mike looks around at the surrounding crowd and smiles at an offended young Asian couple.

"Can we just load it up, already?"

Harvey looks the boxes over and takes a sip from his latte. Mike can't help but want to punch him in the face a little for looking perfectly put together in this heat while wearing a three-piece suit and drinking something hot enough to need a cup sleeve. "Well, that's not going in my car."

"It has to! I've been waiting out here for forty-five minutes!"

"Absolutely not. It's huge and heavy and it'll scratch the leather."

"You cannot be serious, Harvey." Mike bends down and grabs one end of the first box. "Take the other side. We're doing this."

"No."

Mike stands up again and glares at him venomously until Harvey, who wouldn't be intimidated by the king and all his men, takes a step back. "Get me home with my fucking Folldal or I swear to christ..."

Harvey holds his ground this time, but as soon as Mike steps away again he tosses his cup in the trash beside a group of alarmed looking students and tugs up his pant legs to get into the crouch-lift position. Mike mumbles a thank you, and they start.

After fifteen minutes, two shouting matches, and three tries through all four doors and every imaginable combination of angles, they get the first box in.

Mike is fanning himself with the front of his shirt and even if Harvey doesn't seem it, judging by the look of vague disgust on his face, he's starting to sweat under his suit.

"One down. Five to go."

"This store should be outlawed. Why are you even shopping here? I pay you a premium salary."

Mike starts sorting through the remaining five looking for the most reasonable box to try next.

"I spent a fortune on the new mattress. I don't need to spend even more on something just to set it on. Besides, this frame still cost like 500 bucks."

"You're hopeless. Why are you even a lawyer if you're not going to reap the rewards? Buy yourself some luxury, for fuck's sake."

"I just like the work." He shrugs. "And the people I work with too." He looks up and eyes Harvey for a long time until he gulps and starts moving the next box into position.

A half-hour later they're trying to figure out how to get the twenty-by-twenty-by-twenty box of nightmare in and still leave space for a passenger, seeing as how they needed to lean the front seat all the way forward to fit the longest boxes.

"I'll sit between it and the other boxes."

"You're skinny, but not that skinny."

"I'll sit kinda, like, sideways and put my legs down the middle of the front seat."

"You're being stupid now."

"No! It'll work, watch." Mike climbs in and Harvey is about to shove the box in behind him when a bubbly employee in a yellow polo shirt comes over and says - "If you are not able to fit everything, don't forget about our delivery service!"

Harvey leans in and shouts, "Delivery service!"

Mike is panting. "No way! It's like, an extra sixty bucks."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Mike can see the girl back up slowly and then hurry away to the next car. Harvey lifts the last box in a feat of super human strength and shoves in, mindless of the leather seat or Mike who yelps at finding his ribs crushed between the edge of one box and another. He turns so he's leaning over one with his ass buried under the slant of another and grunts when Harvey slams the door and throws himself into the driver's seat. He roars on the engine and peels out, narrowly missing an employee returning from the parking lot with a trail of carts.

"You have nothing to be so pissed about."

"I have everything to be pissed about. You wasted my day, threatened me, and probably ruined my car."

"It's not technically your car."

"Shut up."

They zoom through the bleak outskirts of Manhattan and Harvey complains three times about how heavy and slow the car feels. Mike grunts when he takes a too quick turn and the box digging into his ribs pushes in further.

"Harvey, are you trying to injure me?"

"No."

Mike sighs and tries to shift but every time he moves the corner of the Hemnes jabs him in the ass.

"You're being childish. If you wanted to hurt me you could have done it a different way."

Harvey skids to a stop at a red light and the car jolts alarmingly.

"Fuck!"

Harvey spins around and glares at him. "I'm being childish?! You're almost thirty years old Mike. Thirty. And you're still acting like a fucking freshman. I'm not your "bro" and it's not my job to move your cheap furniture around on my days off."

"Did you just say bro?"

"Whateverthefuck!"

The both humph and turn away when the light turns green and Harvey pulls away, a little more gently this time. When they pull up to Mike's building nearly twenty minutes later Harvey curses under his breath while trying to squeeze his car into the only tiny available space in front of the building between a beater with fading paint and a motorcycle taking up two spaces. When he finally turns off the car Mike stares at the back of his head with a frown while he strums his fingers on the wheel.

"I can call Trevor -"

"No. It's fine."

"You're obviously pissed at me."

"I'm not...pissed." He turns around and observes Mike's squashed and mangled body. "Let's get you out of there." His eyes have softened and he looks vaguely sheepish

Mike wiggles forward. "You shouldn't try to get these out by yourself. Here, I bet I can crawl through the front." He stretches one leg forward and sucks in his stomach while trying to pry himself out from his sandwiched position.

"Careful!" Harvey shouts when Mike kicks the probably multi-thousand dollar stereo and GPS controls. He pushes Mike's leg toward the passenger side but there's a box there and besides, the angle is bad. He yelps.

"Here, let me get out and you can come out this side." Harvey is just about to open the door when Mike finally wiggles free and lands ass first in his lap. The boxes in the back jolt and fall into each other, filling up the thin space where Mike had been.

"Sorry." He tries to shift up but there's nowhere to go. Harvey is looking down at him, his eyes hooded and dark. One hand is supporting his lower back and the other has him around the wrist. Mike gulps. It's been eight months now since Harvey last touched Mike at all, aside from the odd accidental brush. Although, even those sent Mike's pulse racing.

It all started and ended in one night last summer while they were on a business trip together in L.A. They got drunk, really drunk, and friendly jostling lead to Mike sucking off his boss on the bathroom floor of Harvey's executive suite. He can't really remember what happened after that, but he does remember, in vivid detail, being nudged in the ribs by Harvey where he'd passed out in front of the open bathroom door sometime the next morning. Mike stumbled back to his room groggily and spent the rest of his afternoon lying on his bed looking at the ceiling, trying hard to will away the persistent erection reacting to the cloudy memories surfacing. Harvey's long thick cock. His fingers pulling painfully on his hair. Mike moaning. Harvey gasping. The way he smelt like rich cologne and sex. The both of them collapsing on the floor together where they fell asleep despite the fluorescents and humming bath fan.

Mike had thought about it before, but dismissed the possibility as anything more than a fantasy. Rich hyper-masculine boss goes gay with underling. It's porn stuff, not real life. Except - apparently it was Mike's life. The weird shit always happens to him. And now he's left with a boss - no, a friend who was shortly becoming his best-friend before L.A. happened.

And although he has enough material now to shift his Harvey fantasies from 'figment of his imagination' to 'real-life sensory memory', if he lets himself go there it's going to get complicated, painful, and just plain fucked-up.

They barely talked about it. In fact, for the rest of the week Harvey flat our refused to bring it up and went so far as to avoid, or in one case, physically run away from Mike as he tried to approach him at the hotel bar. And to make matters worse Harvey started to flaunt women he picked up in front of Mike as if his indelicate statement would somehow answer the question that simply wasn't being addressed.

Mike's moment came when American Airlines declined to move Harvey from business class where he was sitting next to Mike to first, which was decidedly full.

"You have to talk to me someday, Harvey, we work together."

"No I don't," he grumbled. "Leave me alone." He flipped on his left hip to stare grumpily out the window, his little plastic cup of scotch forgotten on his foldout tray.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Seriously, if you're not into dudes you can just tell me. I get it."

"Be quiet! For fuck's sake." He looked around suspiciously at the surrounding passengers, but of course, not one of them was paying attention.

"Shit like this happens. You're not the first guy I've woken up with who wasn't exactly happy to see me. It's no biggie."

Harvey rubbed at his face and took a long sip from his drink.

"Just tell me what I'm supposed to make of this and I'll leave you alone! We're going to see each other every day, we don't have the luxury to ignore this forever."

Harvey looked around again to be triple-sure that no one was listening in before whispering, "I like women. I'm straight. Always have been, always will be."

"Okay. Fine. I get it."

"I was drunk."

"I know."

"I just want to forget all about this, but you're making it so fucking difficult."

Mike blushed hotly and looked away. He shouldn't be surprised that Harvey would want to forget, but he couldn't quite figure out what to make of his statement. Was he disgusted by what happened? Or was Mike's presence causing him to remember it too fondly for his own comfort. Probably the first. He shouldn't delude himself. Again.

Not. Porn.

Mike shrugged and dug out a leather folder of court briefs from his briefcase to flip through while resting his forehead in his hand wearily. Now he wished there was a spot open in first class. No. Screw it. He'd take economy.

"Let's just pretend it didn't happen and go back to how it was before." Harvey said out of nowhere. Mike looked over to find him staring at him intently. "We got along fine before."

"We got along stellar before," Mike said, almost sadly.

"Right. So let's stick of stellar professionalism. Okay?"

Mike shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

But now, with Mike in Harvey's lap and Harvey's thumb beginning to caress his wrist, Mike isn't too sure he can stick to the agreement to just 'forget' much longer. Mike doesn't forget shit, and Harvey knows it.

"We should get going."

Harvey nods without looking up. Mike pops open the door and gently pulls his hand away. The touch was making his skin hot and tingly and if he's not careful he'll end up with an untimely and awkward erection. He stumbles out onto the curb and holds the door open for Harvey to follow.

Four hours later Mike is kneeling, ass in the air, over the directions for his bed frame. The end tables proved to be complicated but relatively quick, with each of them assembling one table and coaching the other through common mistakes. Now, the massive faux-leather covered king frame has to be assembled, a job that will definitely take both of their cooperation. Harvey took off his jacket and accepted Mike's offer of a cooler t-shirt several hours ago, and is now in Mike's kitchen finding more beers.

He'd never really expected Harvey to stay and help. Now that they're friends, good friends even, he'd thought it would be within his right to demand transportation service, but when it came to Allen wrenches and glued in dowels, he never expected Harvey to do anything but laugh and abandon him to a more fashionable Saturday night. But he hadn't, and Mike isn't going to complain. It isn't often - no, it's downright rare - to have Harvey in his apartment at night, much less casual, relaxed Harvey. And, one who seems to be moving a couple inches closer to him as they sit together on the floor.

He can hear Harvey return from the kitchen and stop behind him. Mike looks over his shoulder to find his boss eying his ass. He smiles and sits down on his heels. Harvey hands him the beer.

"A lot of work?"

"Not really. It's just big and awkward and requires two people. We'll have to do this in the bedroom." He grins despite himself and Harvey gulps.

There's a big space in the middle of Mike's bedroom where his old bed used to be. The new mattress is sitting below the window with the plastic still on. Harvey is leaning against the back wall with one hand balancing the heavy backboard. He's drinking his beer with one arm while Mike tries to screw the right side brace on with screws that seem vastly inefficient to truly hold everything up. He's lying propped up on one arm next to Harvey's foot. He misses his aim again and the brace falls with a bang.

"Fuck this shit! I'm so fucking tired of assembling fucking furniture. Fucking fuck!"

Harvey laughs. "What a mouth you have. I didn't know you had an anger problem."

"Shut the fuck up and help me!"

"Okay. Calm down. I'll switch with you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Move over."

Mike sits up and scoots to the side as Harvey slides down into the space beside him. When he lands their thighs touch. Mike blushes and pulls his knees up against his chest and away from the dangerously intoxicating contact. Harvey smells good. Like sweat and beer and expensive aftershave. Mike turns his head away to ward off the overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

Mike holds the side brace steady and puts the other around the backboard. Harvey grabs the allen wrench and screw, and as if he'd done it a million times he lines it up right the first time. The screw goes in cleanly and tightens with a click. He picks up the second screw and does it again.

"How'd you do that?"

"It's easy."

"No it's not."

Harvey finishes the third in no time and finally the frame is supported and freestanding. It's starting to look like it might possibly be a bed before morning. "Don't feel bad, rookie. Not everyone is as perfect as me." He grins and Mike punches him in the side.

"You've totally done this before."

Harvey shrugs. "I lost a bet to Jessica during my first year as a junior partner and had to put together all the associate desks."

"No way. There's, like, sixteen!"

"It took me an entire weekend without sleep. Well, no, that's not true. I slept on Jessica's couch, naked. On my stomach."

Mike laughs so hard he's wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The beer is definitely going to his head.

"Please tell me there's security footage out there of your ass."

"Undoubtedly."

Mike erupts into hysterics and falls over onto Harvey's shoulder.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of. It's the security team's gain."

Mike laughs until he's hiccuping and smiling like a fool. This is the best he's felt in a seriously long time. The easy company, the contact and conversation, even the unresolved sexual tension is better than any of the short-term girlfriends, boyfriends, or one-night-stands, he's had in years. He lifts his head up off Harvey's shoulder when the other man coughs.

"I'll finish this. Why don't you order a pizza or something," Harvey says. "I'm starving."

"Stuffed crust?!"

"You're a child."

Mike walks back into the bedroom after paying for the pizza just as Harvey is finishing pushing his mattress onto the completed bed frame. Mike tosses the box onto it and opens the lid.

"You'll get grease on your new bed."

Mike grumbles and pushes a dirty towel underneath.

"Is that clean?"

"Yes."

Harvey grabs a piece as Mike hops up on his bed and does the same. He smiles when the mattress doesn't creak, squeak, or dip under him. Harvey stands, awkwardly looking at the door.

"Sit up here with me, it's cool."

He takes another bite and tries to look nonchalant as he swings his legs over and rests against the white cushioned headboard.

"This frame is okay. For IKEA."

Mike chews and swallows the last bite of his first piece and nods. "Thanks." He grabs another.

Mike bounces up and down and everything stays just as it should be. "Sturdy."

Harvey caresses the stitched leather. "Stylish. Well, imitation stylish."

"You can't choke out a real compliment, can you?" Mike says around a mouthful of pizza.

"Is that required?"

Mike shakes his head. "No. But it would be appreciated." He passes Harvey another piece of pizza and holds out the corner of the towel for him to wipe his fingers on. They chew quietly, passing pieces back and forth wordlessly until they both can't swallow another bite. Mike falls back against the mattress with his arms above his head and sighs. "Too. Damn. Full. I shouldn't eat so much."

Harvey snorts back a laugh. "You couldn't gain a pound if your life depended on it. You'll always have a skinny ass."

Mike sits up on his elbows and grins. "Have you been staring at my ass, Harvey?"

Harvey gazes darkly back at him, his eyes twitching, before standing up and leaving the room.

"I ride a bike every day and I'll have you know that what I'm missing in fat, I make up for in lithe lean muscle." He bounces off the bed, stretches, and follows Harvey into the kitchen where he's trying to shove the too large pizza box into a too small plastic garbage bin.

Mike leans casually against the counter, grinning. "Have I thanked you for helping me today? Cause I really do appreciate it."

Harvey smiles awkwardly at him while trying to scrub a tiny grease stain off his t-shirt with Mike's dish cloth.

"Here, let me help." Mike grabs the cloth from Harvey's hand and pulls the shirt away from his belly.

"It's fine. I can have it cleaned for you tomorrow."

"Nah, let me get it out now while the stain's fresh."

Mike places his hand behind the fabric as he scrubs and his knuckles brush Harvey's bare skin.

"Please. Mike, just let it go."

"My Grammy taught me how to do this stuff. If you don't let me -"

"You know what, fine, here, take it." Harvey rips the shirt over his head aggressively and balls it into Mike's hand. Mike stares, startled, at the exposed chest as Harvey frantically scans the living room, only to remember that he left his dress shirt on the bedroom dresser.

Mike trails behind him and stands in the doorway, watching.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, you're kinda freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out, I'm just – it's just." He growls angrily when he fails to thrust an arm through his shirtsleeve. "I'm tired."

"Okay."

"Sorry I can't stay to help with - " he looks around the room. "Well I guess everything is done."

"Yeah, I guess."

He's buttoning up his shirt, but only gets halfway before giving up and letting the top hang open. "This fucking thing shouldn't be so difficult." He storms over to dresser again where his jacket hangs on a drawer handle. He rips it away and shakes off bits of particleboard and shrink-wrap.

"Harvey. Seriously, whatever's going on, it's okay."

"Nothing's going on."

"Really? Because the last time you came this unglued -"

"Don't say it!"

"Okay, fine. Fine."

Mike's chest is tight and his eyes are burning in frustration and embarrassment when Harvey finally turns on him. He slides around the side of the door-frame with his arms curled up over his chest and leans back against the bedroom wall, where the light switch digs into his back.

Just as Harvey is about to clear the doorway and more than likely the apartment, Mike puts a gentle hand out, touching his bicep.

"I hope whatever has you so on edge, that it doesn't change our friendship." He lets his hand drop and shrugs. "It means a lot to me, you know? I wasn't so much digging even stellar professionalism, and I just never want to mess it up."

Harvey looks down darkly where Mike's hand had been and then follows his line of sight up until his gaze is resting on Mike's lips. Mike licks them nervously, but before he has time to further question Harvey's weird behavior there are lips on his and a firm warm body pressing him insistently to the wall. Mike stands still, shocked into unresponsiveness, as Harvey kisses him. The body before him vibrates with unbridled energy reminding Mike not too fondly of the last time they were in this position together. Mike turns his head and puts a hand on Harvey's chest.

"What the hell, Harvey?" His voice is low and raspy and not at all convincing.

Harvey leans his forehead against the wall beside Mike's head, panting.

"I can't get you out of my head."

"And this was your solution?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe this time. Maybe this time-"

"You mean, maybe if I suck your cock again while you're relatively sober you'll see there was nothing so fantastic about it after all, and you can move past this – what is this exactly? Some kind of sexual identity crisis? And then you can wake up tomorrow back to normal, thinking only of pussy for the rest of your life."

Harvey pushes himself away from the wall and gapes at Mike, completely lost for words.

"I think you should go." Mike twists out from under Harvey's arm and starts ripping violently at the new packs of 800 thread count sheets he'd picked up the day before. They land in an off-white wrinkled pile on the floor.

"You aren't going to that laundromat, are you? It's after ten."

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Harvey. If I get mugged it's my own problem. Besides, all they'll get is a basket of three hundred dollar sheets and a Ziploc bag of quarters."

"Only three hundred?"

"Fuck off!"

He's shoving everything into a basket when he hears Harvey's keys jingle as they're lifted off the kitchen table in the other room, followed by an angry bang as the front door slams shut.

Mike collapses into the pile of plastic scented sheets to muffle a frustrated scream.

It's after midnight when Mike straggles back with warm sweet smelling sheets and a tub of Haagen Dazs. Making up a fresh bed has never been much of a chore, mainly because at the end of it he gets to crawl in half naked with a pint of chocolate peanut butter, letting the warm softness envelop him. It would have all been much much better if he and Harvey hadn't left on such bad terms, and would have been exponentially better if it were a warm Harvey he was nestling into right now. But in the end, alone seems to be the safest answer where Harvey is concerned.

After an episode of The Closer on his DVR, Mike tosses the empty pint of ice cream across the room where it may or may not have landed in the bedroom trash, flips over, hugs a pillow to his chest, and goes to sleep.

When Mike wakes the next morning to his alarm, he realizes quickly that, first, it's not morning at all, and second, it's not his alarm clock waking him. He sits up, reaches across to the new bedside table, and snatches up his new phone. It reads 3:28 in blinding white letters.

There's a banging coming from the front door. Mike should be smart enough to keep pepper spray or something around if he's going to insist on living in bad neighborhoods, but he doesn't. At the end of the day he's naturally reckless. It usually takes him a while to realize what he's doing might be bad for him. That's why when he opens the door and sees through blurry eyes a wrecked and somewhat feral looking Harvey, he lets him in.

"You drunk?" Mike mumbles.

"No."

"It's ridiculously late, or I mean, early. It's really early."

"I know."

Mike folds his arms over his chest and, finding no shirt, looks down to make sure he's wearing something. Oh good, shorts. Upon looking up he finds that Harvey too is staring unabashedly at his barely covered cock.

"Uhm."

"Can I see your bed? Now that it's finished."

Mike gapes. "Seriously?"

"I put it together. I should get to see the finished product."

"Yeah, at a reasonable hour, sure. Harvey, no one in their right mind is awake between three and four in the morning."

He shrugs. "You gonna to show me, or not?"

Mike runs a hand through his hair, contemplating. Judging by the hungry look in Harvey's eyes, leading the man into his bedroom will almost surely end with him getting fucked. Which of course makes him so excited he can hardly keep from collapsing spread eagle. But everything can't always be about what his cock is telling him to do. Can it?

"I feel like we talked about this earlier. You tried to kiss me."

"Yes."

"And I told you to fuck off."

"Yes. I fucked off and now I'm back."

"I can see that."

They stand awkwardly at the door while Mike's feet start to freeze on the cold hardwood. Harvey reaches over and grabs Mike's hand where it's resting at his side. He tilts his head toward the bedroom and pulls until Mike follows.

Just like L.A. Mike is 99% sure that in the morning he's going to be hurt, pissed, and their relationship will have become exponentially more awkward. Because this time neither of them are all that drunk, and this time Mike doesn't plan to stop until he has Harvey's dick inside him. The consequences really shouldn't outweigh the benefits, but again - not the most cautious.

As soon as they clear Mike's doorway Harvey does something unexpected. Mike had anticipated something quick, filthy and frantic that mostly featured Mike playing the girl to Harvey's sexual crisis. Instead, Mike finds himself pushed down onto the edge of his bed, propped up on his elbows, while Harvey collapses like his legs won't hold him for another second. Harvey grabs Mike's knee in his firm grip and presses a kiss to it, a kiss that follows up his thigh until Harvey is nosing at the opening in his boxers. The blissed out expression on Harvey's face encourages Mike to runs his fingers into his hair and press forward encouragingly.

Harvey grips the edges of his boxers and pulls. Mike's cock springs out and lays erect against his stomach.

"I should have told you something earlier," Harvey says.

"Huh?"

"You were wrong. Pussy is literally the furthest thing from my mind." He grins and Mike chokes back a laugh as he runs his fingers into Harvey's hair.

"Yeah? You been thinking about my cock?"

"Constantly," he moans. His eyes roll closed lazily as he leans over and licks one long swipe from balls to tip, then gathers the moisture into his mouth. "I'd say I tried to keep you at a professional distance, even in my mind, but that would be filthy fucking lie." He grins and reaches up to squeeze and finger Mike's cock teasingly. "I've been getting off thinking exclusively of you for months."

Mike's cock twitches and he has to tip his head back against the bed and close his eyes to fight off the rush of dizzy arousal.

"Exclusively?"

"Uhmhm."

Harvey presses his cheek into Mike's groin and kisses his hot inner thigh while Mike struggles to get control of himself.

"But in L.A. you acted like," Mike swallows back the spit pooling in his mouth and finds that he doesn't have the words to express himself. What was it about Harvey's behavior that bothered him? That he treated Mike like trash the first time, or that he came back for more as if there had never been a problem to begin with? Harvey seems not to have heard him because he's back to sucking Mike enthusiastically if not slightly sloppily – whether that's from eager arousal, inexperience, or just the god-awful time when neither of them are accustomed to being lucid, he doesn't know.

Mike takes Harvey's hair in between his fingers and pulls up, also using the leverage to bring himself to a sitting position. Harvey hisses.

"You treated me like shit." Mike says, inches now from Harvey's face.

Harvey gulps and nods. "I know."

"I was falling for you and you made me feel like dirt." His voice is a little hoarse and his fingers and probably pulling too tight, but he really needs to get this out before he lets his dick take over completely and make another rash and not-so-great decision.

Harvey's eyes glisten. "I just needed time, Mike. Time to figure out how to define the suffocating feeling I felt around you."

"Bad suffocating, like, I kicked you in the gut? Or good suffocating, like… breathless?"

"Breathless."

Mike's lips tug up in the corner. "Harvey, you've gone soft."

He leans in and kisses Mike tenderly, as if in proof. "I don't move IKEA furniture on a perfectly good Saturday for my friends, Mike. I'm a selfish egotistical prick."

"Noted. So what does that make me, then?"

Harvey grabs his chin and kisses him so deep and long Mike forgets where he is and what they were talking about.

"Let's go with lover. I've always liked the ring to that."

"A gay lover, Harvey? What will the masses say?"

"I've spent six months trying to convince myself I don't give a shit. And I don't." He runs his palms up and down Mike's thighs. "You feel too good. And I want you too much."

Mike pulls Harvey up when he tries to go down. As much as he wants to get off, he needs more of Harvey's lips, this time knowing that if he plays his cards right he just might get them all to himself. Harvey, Mike finds, is still a fantastic kisser. He claims Mike's mouth with confident ferocity.

"You gonna get naked or what? You're not the only one who's been obsessing over cock."

Harvey leans his forehead against Mike and laughs. Mike takes full advantage of the gap between them to reach down and rip off Harvey's belt.

"I was lead to believe that was a pre-existing condition."

"Just shut up and be flattered. You have an excellent -"

"Shit." Harvey stills his eager hips as Mike finally gets the zipper down.

"What?"

"The condoms. I knew I forgot something."

Mike nods to the new bedside table. "I'm no rookie in this department champ. It was the first thing I moved in."

He pulls out Harvey's long beautiful cock and gives it an appreciative pull.

"Call me champ again and I'll put you over my knee."

Mike hums. "Is that a promise?"

"Just get the condoms!"

Mike laughs as he crawls naked across the bed on hands and knees. When he leans over to reach into the drawer he's painfully aware of the show he's giving Harvey. In confirmation he hears Harvey curse and the bed dip where he kneels behind him.

"Stay just like that when you're done." His voice is thick and raspy. Mike grins and pulls a foil packet from the drawer along with a tube of half-used lube, both of which he tosses over his shoulder. He regains his position on the bed and looks over one shoulder at Harvey who is string transfixed down at his exposed hole.

Harvey blinks away just long enough to spot where the lube and condom had fallen before moving in with only his cock exposed through the v of his jeans and white dress shirt. Mike thinks to ask him to remove it all, but the contrast is way too hot, and besides, there has to be time for that later. There has to be.

Harvey takes each of Mike's ass cheeks in his palms and squeezes. Mike gasps.

"Perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You have no idea how hard you make me."

Mike licks his lips, curves his spine, spreads his legs, and smiles when Harvey's eyes roll back in his head.

"Sometimes at the office I imagine you putting me over your desk and fucking me raw."

He groans while squirting lube into one palm and massaging it over two fingers.

"You think about me at work too?"

Harvey nods, too distracted by his fingers disappearing into Mike's body to answer. The thrusting starts and it's impressively well done for a man accustomed to a woman's body. Mike turns his face away and lowers it to the bed where he can zone out and enjoy the sensation. While Harvey fucks him with his fingers Mike finds his own erection and begins palming it. It only takes a minute or two before Harvey is batting him away and taking over with a passion bordering on overzealous.

"Shit, Harvey. Slow down. I want to come with you inside me."

Harvey releases him without a word and pushes him impatiently onto his back. Mike huffs when he hits the bed, but is quickly on board, lifting his legs up over Harvey's shoulders as he comes down on top of him. Mike grabs the lube from beside his head so he can slick Harvey up. He barely gets three strokes in before Harvey bats him away, and with remarkable beginner's luck is inside Mike in one fluid and graceful thrust.

"You've totally done this before," Mike gasps. He thrusts in hard and they both moan.

"I experimented with anal in college. Never dug it much."

He thrusts in again and hits Mike's prostrate like a pro.

"Well you're a whole new man now, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he says. "Now shut up and take it."

Mike does as he's told as Harvey grabs him around the hips and lifts just enough to get the perfect angle. The back bend burns his abs, but it's so totally worth it when Harvey loses control and starts fucking him with an abandon Mike didn't know he possessed. He's so into the pleasurable buzzing in his ears, Harvey's grunts, and the slap of skin that he doesn't immediately identify the sound coming from behind him.

With a breathless huff Mike says, "What's that noise?"

Harvey ignores him.

"Harvey, what's that - "

"It's you're cheap bed squeaking." He says all this without faltering his pace.

"My bed?! Oh man, you were totally right…"

Harvey pauses, as does the squeaking, leans down on one elbow, and puts a hand over Mike's lips. The strain on his hamstrings is delicious.

"Can you please shut up for one minute? Be a good boy and let me finish fucking you. I did drive out here at 3 AM to do it. And then afterwards we can talk about your piece of crap bed-frame. Okay?"

Mike nods, Harvey smiles, and the pace is regained with vigor. When they're both moments away Mike digs his nails into Harvey's back, bucks up, meeting each thrust, and comes between their chests. Harvey looks surprised for a second and then his arousal seems to double as he thrusts in five more times and comes. Mike watches the pleasure erupt on Harvey's face, fully aware it might be the last time, but thrilled by the hopeful prospect that it might not.

When Harvey has caught his breath, Mike folds his legs off his shoulders and lets them fall crookedly. Harvey rolls aside and onto his back, panting.

Mike turns his head on the pillow that still smells fresh from the wash, but now with the stench of sex mingled in. Watching Harvey catch his breath brings back memories of the two of the on the bathroom floor looking not unlike they do now.

"If you're planning to plead momentary insanity and run out, be a gentleman and do it now," Mike says, trying not to sound bitter.

"What?"

"I can handle disappointment twice, but only if you don't string it out."

Harvey eyes him with knitted brow. "Shit. I really screwed up your trust in me, huh?"

Mike shrugs. "Sexual identity crises suck. It's just that I got over mine when I was seventeen. Doing it at forty-"

"Don't finish that."

Mike laughs. Harvey's lips tug up as they lay looking at each other. His eyes scan up and down Mike's body lazily and when he catches Mike's gaze again he looks serious. "You're stunning, you know that?"

Mike blushes. He actually blushes. "Thank you."

Without having to be asked Harvey kneels up and peels himself out of the rest of his clothes without bothering to make a show of it. When he settles back down against the pillows Mike is grinning from ear to ear. He rolls over and props himself against the other man, using one hand to caress the still flushed chest and run fingers down the soft line of hair leading to his gorgeous glistening cock.

"Is this supposed to be my answer?" Mike asks.

"I don't intend to go anywhere this time. You can hide my clothes if you need the security."

"So the lover line wasn't just bedroom talk?"

He pets Mike's cheek and runs a thumb along his lips. "Not if you don't want it to be. I'd like… that is, I'd very much like to see you like this. Be with you, outside the office."

Mike nods, knowing the answer is unequivocally yes. He kisses Harvey and lets him pull the covers over them. The morning sun is just beginning to lighten the night sky, but Mike doesn't care. He has no intention of leaving bed again today.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Mike knows he probably should be ashamed of himself. That he probably should have given Harvey the finger for pushing him aside in the cruelest way possible while he figured his shit out. But the truth is that with Harvey, Mike likes the dick moves just as much as the sweetness and generosity. Yeah, call him easy, but he's so totally cool with forgiving and forgetting. Harvey is always worth it.

"Remind me to tighten those screws before we do this again. I can't have you getting distracted so easily."

Mike snaps out of his reverie. "Killed the mood?"

"No, you hurt my pride. I guess I'll just have to practice more. Give me a week and I'll be fucking you so well you won't be able to hear anything but your own pulse."

"That's definitely a promise you better be prepared to keep."

"Believe me, it definitely is."

Fin