Chapter Text
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Mike’s brain is going into overdrive. Who would have thought that agreeing to run drugs for Trevor would backfire? Even in his own thoughts Mike is trying to convince himself that he didn’t already know this was a gigantic and horrific mistake, the consequences of which he probably will never ever be able to bounce back from.
The consequences of which are fast approaching as the two plain clothes officers chase after him through the halls of the Chilton. Mike needs to think and he needs to think fast, but his most prized asset is suddenly declining to get on board with the program.
The only thought running through his head is how fucked he is as he keeps climbing floor after floor. In a short moment of brilliance he remembers briefly glancing at a poster down at reception about some job interview being held up on the twentieth floor for Pearson-Hardman.
He runs straight into an elevator and presses the button as fast as he can with the police hot on his tail.
The ride up is excruciatingly slow, allowing Mike to ruminate more and more about all the bad choices he’s ever made in his life at Trevor’s behest.
Perhaps Grammy is right... Trevor is an anchor.
As the elevator doors open before him and he stumbles out with the last remains of his adrenaline fueled panic, Mike promises himself if he makes it through today unscathed, he’ll drop Trevor for good.
“-ick Sorkin? Excuse me, Mr Sorkin, you are five minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?” a slightly angry and very controlled voice cuts him out of his train of thoughts.
He looks at the woman, standing, looking at him with her hands on her hips, disappointment colouring her expression. He’s still trying to catch his breath.
“Look” he says, his brain still trying to catch up, looking over his shoulder “I’m just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don’t really care if you let me in or not.”
Mike’s plan was to mingle with all the stuck-up Harvard douches until the cops lost him, but before he knows the woman looks at him once more, this time with something harder to read in her eyes “Mister Specter will be right with you.”
All he can manage in reply is a confused, unintelligent “What?” but she goes on speaking as if he has any idea what she’s talking about. “Can I get you anything? A coffee? A bottle of water?”
It dawns to Mike at that moment specifically that this woman thinks he was joking; thinks he’s actually Rick Sorkin five minutes late for his interview.
Now, even though it’s been a couple of years since he got banned from Columbia and blacklisted by Harvard, thanks Trevor , Mike is still intimately familiar with Pearson-Hardman.
After all, there’s not a lot of lawyer wannabees in New York who don’t know Pearson-Hardman and even fewer Harvard wannabees. After all, the only reason he’d applied to transfer in the first place was because they hire from Harvard exclusively.
If Mike was a cartoon character, a light bulb would go off over his head at that exact moment. All he has to do is go in that suite, pretend to be Rick Sorkin for 5 minutes and he’ll be on the fast track back to achieving his dreams.
He pushes the voice in his head that traitorously whispers that he’s just like Trevor away as he gets ushered in. Harvey Specter is much younger and much more handsome than Mike would have expected. It only catches him off guard for the splittest of moments; only falters in his step for the briefest of seconds.
Focus , he chastises himself. Now’s not the time to think about how handsome this Harvey Specter is, now’s the time to impress him with his knowledge of the law and get the job of his dreams.
Pleasantries are almost out of the way when the unthinkable happens.
It’s karma. It can’t be anything but. Mike thinks, as his slightly busted briefcase chooses the exact moment he’s letting go of Harvey Specter’s hand to come undone, bag after bag after bag after bag of pot spilling all over their feet.
“Well” Harvey Specter says, voice tinted with amused interest, making Mike shiver ever so faintly “What do we have here?”