mike ross in every episode (season one)
I wanna tell you a story.
itsclicheiknow said: Have you ever thought of adding some of your Suits works on your society6 shop as well? :3
Oh i never thought about it? (i mean mainly ‘cause i don’t know if anybody wanted them…) But okay i’ll work on putting them up…soon-ish i guess? Thank you though… ;A;
YAY! I’m a big fan of your Suits art! :D
"I was annoyed with the interruption just like I’m annoyed right now."
"The littlest Dane." - (x)
Mike quits one day, without warning.
Harvey learns the news from Jessica, who calls him into her office, hands him a file on a new client, and tells him to pick someone from the associate pool for help because, as of last night, Mike Ross is no longer available.
He can’t get much else out of her, other than Mike made an appointment with her last night, and asked to be let out of his contract immediately.
She looks relieved as she delivers the news, and as angry as he is, he can’t blame her for that.
Harvey has Donna call a random from the associate pool, hands over the file and tells the skittish associate not to fuck it up. Donna gives him a look of sympathy he doesn’t want, and when she opens her mouth to speak, he cuts her off with an acidic, “Don’t.”
With every new case he picks a new associate, until eventually none of them will come when Donna calls, and Donna walks into his office, slaps a piece of paper down on his desk, and tells him to “fix his shit. Now.”
Mike’s new apartment is in Manhattan, just a few blocks from Harvey’s. The building has a doorman, elevators - it’s a definite upgrade from Mike’s bohemian Brooklyn third floor walk up. Harvey pauses outside his door, shifts when he hears Mike’s bright laughter come from inside, followed by garbled words.
Harvey knocks and the door swings open, Mike laughing as he juggles a wallet in one hand, a giggling baby braced snugly in his other arm.
Mike’s face drops. It stings more than Harvey would admit, especially since he’s been avoiding Mike’s calls, his texts, his emails since he up and quit without telling Harvey.
He has…a baby.
Harvey nods. The baby’s focus is fixed on him, and her head bobs as she reaches out an unsteady, chubby hand for him. He holds out his hand and she grasps at his fingers, batting at them. He smiles, despite himself, and she squeals and bounces in her dad’s embrace.
"She likes you."
"Babies like everyone."
It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask where she came from, who her mother is - he would have noticed if Rachel Zane had suddenly started wearing maternity by Prada - but he bites it down. It doesn’t matter where she came from. She’s here, and she’s Mike’s, and that’s all Harvey needs to know.
"I’m not coming back."
Harvey looks away from the baby. “I’m not here to ask you to come back.”
The tension falls away from Mike and he asks, a little too weary for Harvey’s liking, “Then why are you here, Harvey?”
Harvey sighs, corners of his mouth twitching in weary amusement. “I’m sorry I blew you off.”
Mike pauses, considers him, then smiles a little and nudges the door open with his foot. He gestures with a jerk of the head for Harvey to come in and he does, stepping into a surprisingly large, open apartment. It’s pre war, more Mike’s style than Harvey’s, but warm, inviting. There are toys and chunky baby books on a pink and yellow blanket in the middle of the living room, obviously the baby’s, and on the fireplace, pictures of Grammy and Mike, Jenny and Mike, Mike and the baby.
Mike and Harvey.
"Her name is Ellery."
Harvey turns, looks at him. “She’s the reason you quit.”
"I want to watch her grow up, not hand her off to a nanny all day every day."
Of course he doesn’t. Harvey would think less of him if he did.
Mike goes to say something else when there’s a knock at the door. Harvey reaches for Ellery without thinking, and Mike pauses briefly before handing her over and heading for the door.
Harvey bounces her a little in his arms, and she looks up at him, wide-eyed and intrigued, lights bouncing in her eyes. She reaches hands up and pats at his mouth and he nibbles at her fingers, making exaggerated cartoon munching sounds. She squeals, delighted, and leans in, bumping their noses together. Harvey grins, kisses her forehead.
When he looks up Mike is standing in the center of the room, watching him intensely. He sucks in a breath, finally, asks, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Harvey was thinking he’d stay forever.
But they can start with dinner.
"What the fuck do you want from me?" Harvey yells.
Mike physically stumbles backwards, the words like a physical blow. How is it possible Harvey doesn’t get it? Harvey sees everything, he reads people for a living, and they have been dancing around this for months and arguing with each other for the better part of ten minutes and Mike can’t help but think that at this point Harvey is just being wilfully ignorant.