highlander_ii

"Mike, what are you doing?" Harvey asked as he stepped into the bullpen.

Mike is dancing on his cubicle desk. He's kicked off his shoes and is swinging his shirt around over his head.

Exasperated, Harvey ups the volume. "MIKE!"

Mike looks down. "Oh - hey Harvey! Oh my god - you should try some of this!" He holds out a brownie.

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. "Let me guess, Trevor?"

Mike nods. Probably fully unaware he's even done it.

"Get the hell down," he says.

"No, Harvey. This is great." Mike starts dancing again, fingers moving to undo his pants.

"Mike, stop." He stops Mike's hands. "You can't take your pants off in here."

Mike looks down, then back up at Harvey. "No? Okay," he says and drops down to sit on the desk. "We can go to your place and I'll do it there. I need to finish my dance."

Harvey sighs. "No, Mike. I'm taking you home to your own bed."

Mike purrs. "That works to."

Harvey gives him a smirk. "Not for sex, dipshit." He hauls Mike to his feet, tells him to get his damned shoes, and walks him out to the car. "You want to tell me why you were eating pot brownies in the office?"

Mike rocks his head back and forth. "Didn't know they had pot in them."

Harvey's look this time is withering and incredulous. "They came from Trevor. A monkey would know they had pot in them."

"Harvey, they were really good. And so was the pot. You should try one."

"Pass. Now get the hell out of the car and go the hell upstairs and get some sleep."