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Harvey landed on him like a felled oak tree with an expensive haircut.
Mike woke with a violent oof, all the air punching out of his lungs as a full-grown corporate attorney collapsed across his chest. His eyes flew open, disoriented, heart pounding, adrenaline firing like he was being attacked by a very well-dressed bear.
Then he smelled it.
Whiskey. Scotch. Something aged longer than some countries. And Harvey’s cologne—stronger than usual, more of a fog than a scent, like Harvey had marinated in it before leaving wherever he’d been.
Mike blinked. "Harvey?"
A groan answered him. Then Harvey burrowed into his shirt like a cat trying to phase into his ribcage.
"Oh my god," Mike muttered, shoving one hand under Harvey’s shoulder so he didn’t smother. "Harvey, hey. Buddy. Pal. Boyfriend. What the hell?"
Harvey mumbled something into his sternum—half words, half vibrations. It sounded vaguely like missed you, but it also might’ve been mission soup, and honestly, both seemed equally likely given the state he was in.
Mike inhaled deeply, squinting at the glowing bedside clock.
3:08 a.m.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "You were literally supposed to stay at Donna and Rachel’s. I kissed you goodbye. You left with them. You were smiling. You were capable of standing. What happened?"
Another groan. Then Harvey shifted just enough to look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused.
"Mike," he slurred.
"Yeah, I got that part."
"You’re comfy."
"Uh-huh. I would be more flattered if you weren’t crushing all my internal organs."
Harvey blinked with exaggerated slowness. "Missed you."
"You saw me six hours ago."
"Missed you."
"You texted me pictures of Rachel’s cat wearing a tie like two hours ago."
Harvey’s fingers curled weakly into Mike’s shirt. "You weren’t there. I had to walk home."
Mike stared at him, torn between exasperation and… something warm he didn’t want to name while Harvey smelled like half a distillery. And then he realised what Harvey actually just said.
"You walked home?" Mike asked, feeling panic creep up his spine. "Harvey. Please tell me you took an Uber."
Harvey’s face lit up like Mike had asked him to solve a riddle. "No."
"Oh my god."
"I walked."
"Across Manhattan."
"Yup."
"You don’t even know where Manhattan starts and ends right now."
Harvey shifted again, nearly taking Mike’s spleen out in the process. "Missed you."
"I’m aware, Harvey. You have said it five times."
"You didn’t text me."
Mike closed his eyes. "I was asleep."
Harvey made a tragic sound. "You didn’t text me."
"Harvey, it is not normal to text your boyfriend every five minutes when you’re out with your friends. That’s not how that works."
Harvey tried to sit up, failed, and flopped sideways like a dying salmon. "Wanted you there."
"And you couldn’t say that before you got blackout drunk and attempted the Lewis-and-Clark trek across Manhattan?"
Harvey frowned. "Who?"
"Oh my god."
Harvey slid a shaky hand up to Mike’s cheek, patting it twice like he was testing whether Mike was real. "You’re here," he said softly.
Mike’s breath caught, annoyance crumbling like it always did the second Harvey became sincere—drunk or sober. "Yeah, I’m here. I live here. With you. In this apartment. That you wandered into at three in the morning like a feral cat that escaped its owner."
"Feral," Harvey repeated proudly, like Mike had complimented him.
Mike huffed out a laugh despite himself. "Okay, get off me so I can sit you upright before you choke on your own tongue."
Harvey did not move. "No."
"Harvey."
"No."
"You’re being ridiculous."
"You’re warm."
"Harvey."
"You smell good."
"You’re drunk."
"But you smell good."
Mike tried—and failed—to push him. Harvey was dead weight. Heavy, floppy, and in full koala mode. The man had the cling strength of someone who absolutely did miss him.
Before he could argue any further, Harvey’s phone began vibrating violently in his jacket pocket.
Mike fished it out, squinting at the caller ID.
Donna.
"Oh boy," Mike muttered, swiping to answer. "Hey, Donna."
"MIKE!" her voice blasted through the speaker so loudly Harvey flinched. "Is Harvey with you? Please tell me Harvey is with you, because if he is not with you, then he is wandering drunk somewhere and I am going to commit arson."
Mike sighed. "He’s here."
Rachel’s voice—tiny but frantic—shouted in the background, "ASK IF HE FELL INTO A RIVER!"
Donna snapped, "Why would he fall into a river?"
"HE’S DRUNK AND DRAMATIC, DONNA!"
Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. "No rivers. He climbed onto me like a very heavy golden retriever. I think he might’ve run the entire way."
Harvey lifted a finger. "Walked."
Mike rolled his eyes. "He walked."
Donna made a strangled noise. "He didn’t tell us he was leaving. He just—vanished. Houdini’d his way out of our hallway. We thought he went to the bathroom, then the kitchen, then outside for air, then—poof. Gone."
Mike nudged Harvey. "You ghosted the girls?"
Harvey mumbled, "Missed you."
Donna groaned. "He didn’t even say goodbye. Not a word. He just wandered into the night like a Victorian widow."
Rachel yelled, "ASK IF HE GOT HIT BY A TAXI!"
"He didn’t get hit by anything," Mike said loudly. "He got here in one piece, and he’s currently crushing me."
"He’s what?" Donna said sharply.
Mike sighed. "He’s… on top of me."
There was a beat.
Then Donna said, "Ugh. Disgusting. You two are gross."
Rachel shouted, "LOVE THAT FOR YOU!"
Mike hung up—and made a mental note to never call them when they've been drinking—as Harvey nuzzled into his neck again, arms clumsily circling him. "You good now?" Mike asked softly.
"No," Harvey mumbled. "I need you."
"Pretty sure you need water. And maybe medical attention."
"You."
"Harvey…"
"You didn’t text me," Harvey whispered again, like it was a personal betrayal.
Mike felt something ridiculous and warm uncurl in his chest. He brushed Harvey’s hair back and sighed. "I’ll text you next time."
"You promise?"
"Sure."
"I wanted you with me."
Mike swallowed. "I know."
Harvey curled tighter around him, like he was trying to fuse them together. "Don’t go."
"I’m not going anywhere. But you’re sleeping on your side so you don’t drown in your own drool."
Harvey slowly rolled, dragging half the blankets with him, eyes already closing. "Missed you."
Mike shook his head, climbing closer so Harvey wouldn’t roll off the bed.
"You’re unbelievable," he whispered.
Harvey smiled in his sleep.