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Mike wasn’t sure what kind of God he had pissed off, but he knew the bastard had a wicked sense of humor.
It started with one drink. Just one. Harvey had been in a rare good mood after winning a case that shouldn’t have been winnable, and Mike had been riding shotgun on the victory. The bar was expensive, the whiskey smoother than anything Mike could afford, and Harvey was smiling. Not the smirk, not the tight, professional curve of his mouth, but a real smile. Relaxed. Genuine. It should have been a red flag.
"So, you ever box?" Harvey asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
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Or, Mike, who has a way too big crush on Harvey, agrees to go boxing with him. What could go wrong? -
Bookmark Notes:
2:08am, Sunday
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Bookmark Notes:
harvey x mike
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