Work Text:
The office was quiet, the hum of computers and ringing phones long since faded into the stillness of the late evening. Harvey leaned back in his chair, a scotch glass in hand, as Mike sat on the couch, looking equally exhausted yet triumphant. The Jacobs case had been a tough win, but a win nonetheless, and now they were savoring the rare moment of calm.
"You staying here tonight?" Mike asked, gesturing toward Harvey’s office couch.
"Probably," Harvey said, taking a sip of scotch. "Marcus sent me a package with some stuff he found at Mom’s place. Thought I’d go through it, see if there’s anything worth keeping."
Mike’s eyebrows lifted. "Stuff from your dad?"
"Yeah," Harvey said simply.
"Want me to head out?" Mike asked, already rising. "Give you some space?"
Harvey waved a hand. "Sit down, Rookie. You’ve already invaded my life enough; what’s one more hour?"
Mike grinned and plopped back down, watching as Harvey pulled a cardboard box onto the desk. The seal was already cut, revealing a mix of old sheet music, some photographs, and a few random trinkets. Harvey began sifting through it, his expression unreadable as his fingers brushed over the remnants of his childhood.
Mike stayed quiet, sensing this wasn’t the time for his usual banter. That was, until Harvey pulled out a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age.
"What’s that?" Mike asked, leaning forward.
Harvey unfolded it carefully, his brows furrowing as he scanned the handwriting. Then, to Mike’s surprise, he let out a soft chuckle.
"It’s a checklist," Harvey said, his tone half-amused, half-disbelieving.
"A checklist?" Mike repeated.
"Yeah," Harvey said, shaking his head. "Looks like something I wrote when I was a kid. A list of things my ‘perfect partner’ should have. I think it was supposed to be a ’fun’ school assignment?"
Mike’s face lit up. "Oh, you have to read that out loud."
Harvey gave him a look. "It’s ridiculous."
"All the more reason," Mike said, grinning. "Come on, Harvey. Enlighten me. What did Tiny Harvey want in a partner?"
Harvey hesitated, then rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "Fine. But you’re not allowed to mock me."
"No promises."
Harvey unfolded the paper fully and began reading.
"Number one: They have to be smart."
Mike smirked. "Well, you’re off to a good start."
Harvey snorted but didn’t reply. His mind flashed to a moment a few months back—Mike sitting across from him in a conference room, rattling off legal precedents with the kind of precision that had left even Harvey momentarily stunned. He’d never admit it out loud, but Mike’s brain was one of the reasons he’d taken a chance on him.
Harvey continued. "Number two: They should make me laugh."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "I’m hilarious. Ask anyone."
"Debatable," Harvey said dryly, but his lips twitched as he remembered the time Mike had turned a tense deposition into a Monty Python reference marathon, leaving both the opposing counsel and Harvey barely able to keep straight faces.
"Number three," Harvey read, "they should be loyal."
Mike leaned back, his grin softening. "That’s a big one for you, isn’t it?"
Harvey didn’t answer, but another memory surfaced—Mike standing in his office, refusing to rat out Louis even when it meant risking Harvey’s wrath. That kind of loyalty was rare, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
"Number four," Harvey said, "they should challenge me."
Mike’s grin returned, wider this time. "Oh, come on. I’m basically your personal sparring partner."
"Not just basically," Harvey muttered, remembering the countless times Mike had pushed back on his decisions, often infuriating him but just as often proving him wrong.
"Number five," Harvey read, "they should be kind."
Mike tilted his head. "You don’t really strike me as the ‘kindness’ type, Harvey."
"Shows what you know," Harvey shot back, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the point—or the fact that Mike, despite his sharp tongue, had one of the biggest hearts Harvey had ever encountered.
Harvey glanced down at the list again, his voice softening slightly. "Number six: They should make me feel safe."
Mike’s teasing expression faltered. "Safe?"
Harvey shrugged, but the memory hit him like a freight train—Mike standing beside him during the Gillis takeover, unwavering in his support even when the odds were stacked against them.
Mike leaned forward, studying Harvey’s face. "You okay there, boss?"
"Fine," Harvey said quickly, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket.
"Wait, you’re stopping there?" Mike said, clearly disappointed. "Come on, what else is on the list?"
"That’s enough for one night," Harvey said, standing and grabbing his scotch.
Mike’s eyes narrowed. "What’s with you?"
"Nothing," Harvey said, turning to look out the window.
Mike sighed, standing and stretching. "Well, thanks for the trip down memory lane. I’m gonna head out before you get all sentimental on me."
As Mike headed for the door, he glanced back. "You know, Harvey, if you ever need help checking off that list, I’m your guy."
Harvey turned, his expression unreadable. "You already are."
Mike blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Nothing," Harvey said, smirking. "Goodnight, Rookie."
Mike hesitated, then shook his head, chuckling as he walked out.
Harvey watched him go, the list still in his pocket, his mind spinning.
Mike Ross ticked every box.
Well.
Shit.
--
In the end, he had planned to push it out off his mind, focus on the work, not think about his feelings, the usual. Unfortunately for him Mike Ross was nothing if not persistent. Which meant that a few days later Mike leaned against Harvey’s desk, arms crossed and a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.
It was a slow afternoon—uncharacteristically so—and that meant Mike had plenty of time to get under Harvey’s skin.
"Come on, Harvey," he said, his tone sing-song. "You know you want to."
Harvey didn’t look up from the document he was reviewing. "Want to what, exactly?"
"Finish the list," Mike said, leaning over a bit more.
Harvey sighed, setting the paper down and fixing Mike with a pointed look. "For the last time, Mike, no."
"But why not?" Mike asked, plopping into the chair across from Harvey’s desk. "You’ve already read half of it. You can’t leave me hanging. It’s like cutting off a movie halfway through."
"This isn’t a movie," Harvey replied, smirking faintly.
"Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a second act," Mike shot back.
Harvey leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Why are you so interested in this, anyway? You keeping count of how many boxes you check off?"
Mike rolled his eyes but grinned. "No, but now that you mention it..."
Harvey sighed, but he couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips.
"Fine," he said, unfolding the list. "But if you mock me, you’re fired."
Mike saluted. "Scout’s honor."
Harvey gave him a withering look, then cleared his throat and began reading.
"Number seven: They should have great taste in movies."
Mike immediately leaned forward. "Oh, come on. You know my taste is way better than yours."
Harvey raised an eyebrow. "You’re the one who thought watching Howard the Duck on a Saturday night was a good idea."
"It’s a cult classic!" Mike protested.
"It’s a disaster," Harvey countered, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he remembered the time Mike had shown up at his apartment, armed with pizza and an unshakeable determination to make Harvey watch the ridiculous film.
"Moving on," Harvey said before Mike could argue further. "Number eight: They should be confident."
Mike smirked. "Well, I don’t want to brag—"
"You don’t want to, but you do it anyway," Harvey interrupted dryly.
Mike laughed, but Harvey’s mind flashed to a moment in court—Mike standing at the podium, his voice steady as he tore apart the opposing counsel’s argument. He’d been all confidence, even when Harvey knew he was shaking on the inside.
"Number nine," Harvey continued, "they should be passionate about what they do."
Mike tilted his head. "You’ve gotta give me that one. I mean, I gave up sleep and a social life to work here."
"Only because you had no social life to begin with," Harvey teased.
"Harsh, but fair," Mike admitted, grinning.
Harvey smirked but didn’t comment. He remembered the late nights when Mike had practically lived in the office, his energy boundless as he dug into cases with an enthusiasm that was contagious.
"Number ten," Harvey read, his voice softening slightly, "they should care about people."
Mike leaned back in his chair, his grin fading. "Okay, I’m not even going to joke about that one. You know I care."
Harvey looked at him, something unspoken passing between them. He thought of the countless times Mike had gone out of his way to help people—whether it was a pro bono client, Rachel, or even Harvey himself.
"Yeah," Harvey said quietly. "You do."
Mike shifted in his seat, the moment feeling unexpectedly heavy. Then he snorted, breaking the silence. "Man, you were a profound child, huh?"
Harvey rolled his eyes, though his smirk softened. "I had standards."
"Clearly," Mike said, still grinning.
Harvey glanced down at the list again, his voice softening slightly. "Number eleven: They should be someone I can trust completely."
Mike grinned again, trying to lighten the mood. "That’s me. Trustworthy Mike Ross."
Harvey smirked, but his mind wandered to the times Mike had put himself on the line for him—covering for him, defending him, even when it could’ve cost Mike everything.
"Last one," Harvey said, folding the paper. "Number twelve: They should make me want to be better."
Mike’s grin softened, and he looked at Harvey with an expression that was almost serious. "That’s a good one."
"Yeah," Harvey said, his voice quieter now.
Mike tilted his head, a teasing smile returning to his face. "But, you know, that doesn’t sound like me. I mean, I’m great, obviously, but I don’t think I’ve ever made you want to be better."
Harvey gave him a long, steady look. "You’d be surprised."
Mike blinked, having sense of déjà vu and caught off guard by the sincerity in Harvey’s voice. "What?"
"Nothing," Harvey said quickly, slipping the list back into his pocket.
Mike narrowed his eyes. "You’re being weird."
"You’re always weird," Harvey countered, standing and grabbing a file from his desk. "Now get back to work before Jessica comes in and fires both of us."
Mike hesitated, then stood, shaking his head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
Harvey smirked. "And you’re nosy. Call it even."
As Mike left the office, Harvey leaned back against his desk, his hand brushing the pocket where the list sat, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.
Goddammit.