Brother from another mother

Heat Wave. [Part-2]

Cold crashed over him and Mike woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was the fluorescent lights beaming above him. He instantly recoiled from the light, shutting his eyes tightly.

The next thing he noticed was that he was lying against a cool, hard surface. His head, contrarily, was pillowed by damp fabric.

And he was wet.

Curiosity overcoming discomfort, Mike pried his eyes open to take in his surroundings. Empty stalls lined his right and sinks lined his left. He was lying on the floor of a bathroom, hopefully one designated to males.

He was also missing his clothes except for his boxers which were, like the rest of him, thoroughly soaked.

And standing above him was a breathless Donna holding a coffee pot which had been filled with the water that was now trickling down Mike's body towards the drain in the middle of the bathroom. Her hair was in disarray: a look often acquired from running.

The moment his gaze locked with hers, Donna let out a sigh of relief and the tension that constricted her shoulders visibly melted away.

"Donna?" Mike croaked. He tried to clear his throat and try again when Harvey burst into the bathroom, another coffee pot sloshing with cold water in hand. He had taken his jacket off but (unsurprisingly) his vest was impeccably in place. What was surprising was that his tie was slightly askew and his hair similarly disheveled as if, he too, had been running.

Harvey took one look at the conscious Mike staring up at him quizzically and instantly composed himself. He set the coffee pot lightly on top of one of the sinks and then turned his attention to Donna.

"Donna, could you please bring a bottle of water?"

Donna nodded and, after glancing once more at Mike with a thankful smile, hurried out of the bathroom with the empty coffee pot.

"Harvey, what's going on?" Mike struggled, wincing at the strain of talking. The words physically burned his throat. He coughed. "Why am I…?"

He tried to sit up, to look at his suit-less condition, but Harvey was suddenly at his side and eased him back down with a gentle but firm hand against his shoulder.

"Don't get up yet," he advised gently.

Mike allowed his body to fall back to the cool bathroom floor where the water puddled around him. It was for the best after all. The moment he had moved his head, his vision twisted and swirled, and he could have sworn that the wall of sinks had switched places with the ceiling. He closed his eyes to fend off the disorienting sight.

Wordlessly, Harvey trailed his fingers over to Mike's neck to check his pulse, and then to his forehead to check his temperature. He leaned back with a heavy sigh in satisfaction.

"What happened?" Mike asked, his voice cracking. He opened tired eyes that fought to stay closed. "Why do my eyes hurt?"

"Stop talking," Harvey ordered. "Some genius you are, to try to keep talking despite the fact that it hurts."

"Was that a hidden compliment?" Mike managed.

"I said shut up."

Mike opened his mouth to protest but a glare from Harvey dissuaded him. The two were silent for a moment, Mike shifting his gaze around distractedly, taking in the empty bathroom stalls, the porcelain sinks (one of which looked like it really needed to be inspected by a plumber), and the tiles he lay on, sparkling with the water that had splashed over him.

Lastly, he turned his gaze on Harvey who remained kneeling at his side, ignoring the water that had surely soaked his pant legs.

Mike was about to fish for answers again when Donna reentered, brandishing a cold water bottle glistening with the condensation that proved its coldness.

Mike's mouth would have watered at the sight if he had any water to spare.

Harvey took the offered bottle and twisted it open.

"All right, kid," he said, putting the bottle down so that he could slip one arm under Mike and pull him up into a sitting position.

Mike tried to sit up on his own. He didn't want to get Harvey's suit wet. It probably cost more than a year of rent. But Harvey didn't allow him the chance. He kept his arm around Mike's shoulders and drew him close. Mike couldn't resist. He didn't even have the strength to sit up straight, let alone pull away. His head fell against Harvey's shoulder and he absentmindedly noted the difference between the hard tiled floor and Harvey's shoulder.

Then Harvey lifted the water bottle to Mike's lips and eased the cold liquid down Mike's throat.

It was like a well had burst from the course sands of the desert, the cool water raining down on the sun-scorched earth.

It was the sweetest, most pure thing Mike had ever tasted. It was heaven.

He lifted shaking fingers to the bottle in order to tip it further to allow the waterfall to increase its flow down his parched throat. But Harvey kept the bottle firm.

"Easy, kid," he said, keeping a regulated flow. He cut off the supply a moment later and Mike balked as the waterfall went dry.

He pulled at the bottle but Harvey kept it upright.

"Not too much," he explained. "Otherwise you'll get sick."

"Worth it," Mike rasped.

"You won't think so when it happens," Harvey countered but tipped the bottle once more to let Mike drink.

They sat there like that for several minutes: Harvey allowing Mike to drink controlled amounts of water slowly, then stopping for a moment to allow Mike's body to adjust to the sudden introduction of water it had gone too long without, before starting the process again. Donna stood by the door patiently, watching.

When Mike had swallowed the last of the bottle's contents, Harvey carefully lowered him back to the floor and handed Donna the empty bottle. Donna took it, holding Harvey's gaze with her own in a silent conversation. He nodded assuredly at her and she left once more.

Mike was comfortable in the puddle now; the fabric at his head keeping his neck cool. The previous intense heat was wearing off as he cooled in the air conditioned room while lying nearly naked on the wet floor. Granted, he was still pretty warm and the puddle around him seemed to warm as well but it was definitely an upgrade to how he felt before.

"Permission to speak, Captain," he asked softly in a voice that no longer pained him.

"Permission granted," Harvey said as he stood, stretching stiff legs.

"What happened?"