Chapter Text
When you’d gotten the call from Jessica Pearson, you were surprised to say the least. You were an up and coming artist in New York, but you didn’t think you’d breached the upper echelons’ radar just yet.
Meeting her in person had been surreal. She was simply stunning in person, and you could tell she was probably the smartest person in any room she walked into. When she asked you to sculpt a bust of one of her senior partners, it came as a surprise. You’d expected her to ask for a landscape for her office, or something of the kind. A bust of her coworker seemed odd.
“Can I ask the occasion?” you questioned at the lunch she’d invited you to.
“It’s an inside joke,” she smirked. “One that will be more satisfying if I have this sculpture.”
“Okay,” you chuckled. “I’ll need as many angles of his head as you can get. I assume this is a surprise, but--”
She cut you off by handing you a folder. Upon opening it, you saw what appeared to be a straight on shot like from a company ID photo, along with other angles that were clearly taken without the subject’s knowledge. At first glance, you thought he was handsome, if generically so. Artistically you’d always been drawn to asymmetrical faces, giant noses or disproportionate features. His features were… too perfect. Still, you usually made the most commission on sculptures and her name would get you in the door of a few commissions with bigger pockets.
“You have a deadline?” you asked.
“As soon as you can,” she answered. “I’ll throw in a bonus if it’s done within two weeks.”
“Consider it done,” you smiled, extending your hand.
With the business out of the way, you relaxed.
“I love your necklace,” you added, pointing to what was probably an upwards of $5,000 piece around her neck.
“Thank you,” she grinned. “It was a gift from a client.”
“Damn, I once had a client try to pay me in cheese,” you lamented. She chuckled. “Still, it’s amazing to see a woman at the top of her game. I’m struggling to get into shows behind the line of men who swear they invented art.”
She gave you an appraising look and nodded knowingly.
“You just have to force your way in,” she shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so,” you smiled. “I appreciate the opportunity. I’ll make sure it’s a perfect likeness.”
“He’d love that,” she smirked.
“A Narcissus type?” you guessed.
“To a T,” she nodded.
“But you like him, this senior partner? This is a gag gift.”
“Harvey thinks highly of himself because he’s very good at what he does,” she said. “But he could be knocked down a peg or two, it would do him good. This statue is a reminder of how proud he is. He does have some humility. I’m hoping this little tease of his narcissism will keep him grounded. And I think it’s hilarious.”
She added the last bit with a grin and you chuckled along with her. You spent the rest of the lunch chatting about your work and hers, and before you knew it, you were heading back to your studio to start your commission.
***
You pushed your other commissions aside for the sculpture, and finished it within the week. You’d spent a lot of time with Harvey’s face, you could probably identify him with your eyes closed. You knew about those big, expressive eyes, that strong jawline, and that tilt to his lips. In almost every picture she’d taken of him, he had a proud smirk on his face, as if he’d just bested someone in a seemingly unbeatable game of chess.
The sculpture was life-sized, and you found yourself staring into his clay eyes a few more times than you’d care to admit. You felt like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice , and chastised yourself for it.
It felt strange that you’d never meet the man you’d sculpted from clay, but perhaps that was best. A high powered attorney in New York City? He was probably a huge asshole. Whatever you’d cooked up in your head about what lay behind those big brown eyes was far kinder than the reality, you were sure of it.
Jessica came to the studio to pick up the sculpture a few hours after you called. She slid you a check for nearly double what you’d quoted her. You tried not to gape at the number.
“You deserve it,” she said. “Actually, you deserve more. It’s even better than the progress pictures you sent.”
She circled the piece, marveling at the accuracy.
“It’s perfect,” she grinned. Then, her eyes started traveling around the small studio space. “These are all quite remarkable,” she added. “Would you ever consider donating a piece or two? We’re having a silent auction in a week, and I’d love for you to donate something. It won’t pay, obviously, but it’s good exposure,” she offered.
“That would be amazing,” you breathed. “Thank you.”
“You’re amazing,” she said. “Call my secretary when you have a few pieces picked out, and he’ll pick them up. I’ll email you the invite too. I hope you can make it.”
She handed you a card with his number on it, and you took it. You helped her package up the sculpture, sad to see it go, and she went on her way.
***
Donating the pieces had been the easy part. You’d had a few you weren’t in love with, but didn’t want to toss, so you’d went with those. Jessica’s assistant had picked them up, and that was that. Now you just had to attend it.
You weren’t a struggling artist like you were when you first moved to the city, but you were by no means budgeting for a fancy dress. Still, you’d managed to find a decent one at a thrift store. Any small imperfections from the previous owner would be overlooked by the amount of cleavage on display, paired with a long slit up the side when you moved your leg the right way. It felt like something a lawyer would wear to a fancy silent auction, so you’d bought it.
Taming your hair into something resembling a formal night out’s updo, and rummaging through your makeup bag for a while, you looked good. More than good, you looked hot. This might be just the night you needed to get your name out there.
You took a cab to the hotel at which they were hosting the silent auction. There were already tons of people milling about, all in dresses much fancier than yours, and tuxes that probably cost three months of rent. Still, you felt confident. Jessica Pearson wanted your art in her charity fundraiser after all.
Entering the gala, you headed straight for the bar. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Downing your drink, you grabbed another to sip as you made your way around. The items for sale raged from art, to antiques, to trips. You found your pieces first and were pleasantly surprised to see a few high bids on them. A little blurb had been placed near your work, promising that you were an up and coming brilliant artist, and that one day these pieces would quadruple their worth.
Walking a little further in, you saw Jessica. She was standing with a redhead, sipping champagne. You were struck again by her regal nature. She had the elegance of queen. The redhead seemed of a similar stock, though not quite on the same level.
“Jessica,” you greeted warmly.
Surprised when she leaned in for a hug, you accepted, hoping you didn’t spill your drink on her. Successfully avoiding a faux pas, you turned to her friend as she introduced her.
“This is Donna,” she said. “A legal secretary at the firm.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said.
“This is the sculptor?” she asked, shaking your hand but eying Jessica. Jessica nodded. “Wow, I was impressed. I’ve had to look at that mug for far too many years and I know it too well. You nailed it.”
“What did he think of it?” you asked.
“He actually laughed,” Donna said. And by her impressed tone, you gathered that was a good thing.
“He doesn’t usually laugh?” you guessed.
“Harvey’s laughs are more of quick exhalations filled with haughtiness,” Donna explained.
“Guess your inside joke was a good one then,” you smiled at Jessica.
She was about to say something, but saw someone behind you.
“I have to go,” she said, “But I’ll be back later to catch up.”
Leaving you with Donna, you took a sip as you looked at an old guitar someone had donated.
“So, do you enjoy being a legal secretary?” you asked.
“Most of the time,” Donna nodded.
“And Harvey?”
“What about him?” she asked.
“Is he--”
You started to ask something, but your mind went blank when you saw the man approaching behind her. You’d recognize those eyes anywhere. You hadn't expected him to be here. Jessica had painted him as someone who only did things that were a benefit for him. A charity auction? That didn’t seem very self centered. Perhaps he had other motives. Still, you were shocked to see him in person. Donna turned to see why your jaw had dropped open, and snorted a laugh.
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world,” you muttered.
Harvey quirked his head to the side and said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He extended his hand, “Harvey Specter.”
“I know who you are,” you laughed. “I’ve been staring at your face for the last week.”
His brows furrowed, and a brief flash of alarm crossed his face, before he put it together.
“The artist Jessica hired,” he smirked.
“Or she’s a crazy stalker,” Donna offered.
“And you just go around quoting lines from Casablanca at charity auctions?” he asked, ignoring the redhead.
“Jessica asked me to donate a few pieces,” you explained.
“Show them to me,” he suggested. His eyes flashed flirtatiously as he extended his arm to you.
“This way,” you said, ignoring his arm and walking in front of him. You heard Donna let out another snort/laugh, but she stayed where she was. Harvey followed you over to the corner where your pieces were displayed. “They aren’t my favorites, but they’re what I had on hand for such short notice,” you explained, suddenly a little self conscious.
He didn’t say anything, staring at them for a moment. You appreciated that he didn’t say any immediate platitudes, and instead took his time. They were really just studies you’d done to get out of art block. One was a bright yellow bird in an otherwise wintery, barren landscape, one was a study of light on a table with wine and fruit, and the final was a charcoal drawing of two lovers embracing.
Just then, a man came by to look at your art. He eyed the picture of the bird, and glanced at the bids on the sheet. Frowning, he looked back at the bird.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Harvey said to the man.
“It is,” he agreed. “But is it worth out-bidding these?” he asked, pointing to the paper. “What’s the story?”
“It’s about hope,” you offered. “A bright spot in an otherwise bleak world. The bird has clearly been through something horrible to have a broken wing like that, but it persists, as should hope. At least, that’s what I read about it,” you offered, with a wink at Harvey.
“Wow,” he muttered, and put down his bid.
“Wow indeed,” Harvey said, turning to you once the man had left. “That wasn’t true, was it?”
“No,” you snorted a laugh. “But it sounded good, didn’t it?”
“You’re a little con artist,” he smiled.
“I mean, it could mean that,” you shrugged. “I personally just found a photo on Pinterest and adjusted it to my liking. I had a lot of yellow paint I needed to use up. Sometimes art can mean things, sometimes a bird is just a bird.”
“These are your throwaways?” he asked, seemingly impressed.
“I wouldn’t say throwaway,” you shrugged. “But ones I wasn’t in love with.”
“So you’re saying the ones you’re in love with are the best ones?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you said, too late realizing the trap he’d laid.
“So you’re in love with me, then?” he smirked.
You rolled your eyes.
“Yes of course, Harvey, I fell in love with your perfect face, just as I’m sure everyone else does.”
“Perfect face?” he prompted.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“I mean you know you’re very conventionally handsome,” you stated. “You must.”
“I do,” he said, his brows furrowing. “But why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
You sighed and gestured to your art.
“That bird’s wing is slightly broken,” you said. “The wine label is falling off and a few of the grapes aren’t ripe yet. The man’s nose is crooked from a break,” you listed. “Imperfections are what I love. Perfect is, well, boring,” you said, though with a playful smile so as to not hurt his feelings too much.
“Boring?” he repeated, clearly enjoying this. “This is boring to you?” he asked, gesturing to his face.
“You can look at me with those stupidly big brown eyes all you want,” you shrugged. “It won’t change what I think.”
“Would dinner?” he asked, eyes like a shark narrowing in on prey.
“I ate before I came,” you brushed him off. You headed back towards Donna, finding her by a table with appetizers on it.
“Come on, dinner, with me, tomorrow,” Harvey prompted.
Donna’s attention snapped to the two of you, her eyes alight with the prospect of gossip to share.
“No thank you, Mr. Specter,” you shook your head. “I’ve had enough of your face for the week.”
“Next week then.”
“I’ll politely decline,” you said.
He was cute and charming, but you knew his type. The minute he closed you, you’d never hear from him again. That might have been fine in your younger years, but you weren’t looking for that anymore.
“Why do you look like it’s Christmas?” a young man asked Donna as he approached.
“I’m watching Harvey get rejected in real time,” Donna said. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”
Harvey shot her a look of annoyance before turning back to you.
“I’m not being rejected,” he said.
“Surely it’s happened before,” you said, glancing at the two people beside him.
“I’ve never seen it,” the new guy said. “Oh, Mike by the way, nice to meet you.”
You shook his hand and gave him your name.
“You’re the one who made the sculpture,” he grinned. “Impressive.”
“Thanks,” you smiled.
“Back to dinner,” Harvey said, moving so his body blocked your view of his friends.
“This isn’t a thing where I reject you because I know you like the chase,” you promised. “There are fifty women here who would gladly share your bed for the night. Go find one.”
“I don’t want fifty other women, I want you,” he said, putting on his most charming smile. “Do I have to break my nose for you to consider it?” he teased.
You tried to stop the smile that threatened to grow across your face.
“I’m not arguing with a lawyer,” you said, starting to step away.
“Because you know you’ll lose?” he pressed.
“Because I know you’ll never stop. You’re like a pitbull.”
“Thank you,” he grinned. “Alright, how about lunch instead?”
“We’re negotiating now?”
“I am a lawyer after all, as you reminded me.”
“Harvey,” you laughed. “I promise you, you don’t want to date me.”
“Why not?” he asked, still a playful smile on his lips.
“If we’re negotiating, can I negotiate from being nothing to being friends?”
“Friends?”
“Yeah,” you said. “The thing between acquaintances and romantic partners. Something that you probably don’t have a lot of outside work.”
“Or inside work,” Donna muttered, earning her a glare from Harvey.
“That’s my best offer,” you said.
“Offers can change,” he smirked. “But for now, you have a deal.”
He held out his hand and you shook it, feeling a flush in your cheeks at the contact.
“I’d like the offer too please,” Donna smiled. “But unlike him, I won’t try to change the terms later on.”
“I’d like that too,” you smiled, leaning in to give her a hug.
“She got a hug,” Mike pointed out, earning an even meaner glare from his friend.
“There you are,” Jessica smiled as she approached you. “Come on, I want you to meet some of my friends.” Then her gaze turned to Harvey and she gave him an investigative look. “Leave her alone, I like her.”
“We’re friends,” he promised, though his tone was terse. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”
“You better be,” she muttered.
The evening unfolded rather pleasantly after that. Jessica introduced you to a bunch of people, all seemingly interested in supporting new artists. You got a few business cards and gave out some in return. It seemed promising.
When it came time to see who had won each item, you were nervous. The rest of Jessica’s coworkers had come to sit near you. Harvey made an effort to push through a few bodies in order to stand next to you. You had to crane your neck to look up at him while he was so close. He smelled like sandalwood and pine, and you tried not to stick your face in his chest and inhale like you wanted to.
Most of the items sold for over what you’d expected, including your art. The bird piece went to an elderly woman, the wine piece went to some corporation you hadn't heard of, but the lovers sketch went to a more familiar name.
“Harvey Specter,” the auctioneer announced.
Your shocked face turned to Harvey’s smug one.
“You bought it?” you asked.
“Friends are supportive, are they not?” he asked.
You supposed so, but that one? It did make you feel flattered, even if it was just a tactic to get in your pants.
“Thanks,” you managed.
“Alright, let’s get you in a cab,” Jessica said, putting an arm around your shoulder and leading you away from Harvey.
“Goodnight,” Harvey said. The smile on his features was one you’d seen in the photos Jessica had given to you. It said one thing: he wasn’t giving up.