Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Suits.
AN: Written for a prompt on the Suits meme that basically stated: Mike's hazing by the other associates goes too far. Would have posted this sooner but it took me a little while to get it cleaned up.
Also WARNING: This fic deals with hazing/extreme bullying. Something that, in my opinion, must be stopped before more people are hurt (stepping off of my soapbox now).
Mike Ross was the newest associate at Pearson Hardman. This was supposed to mean that he was the lowest rung on the ladder but instead he was the chosen one for Harvey Specter, which meant that he was also the golden child of Pearson Hardman. This status meant that the other associates, with Greg and Kyle in the lead, had decided that Mike Ross deserved more than his fair share of hazing. They'd all been through it and in their opinion; Ross deserved it more than they had during their first few months because it just wasn't fair.
"Ross is gone, now's our chance," Kyle said with a glance towards Mike's now empty cubicle. Greg nodded, stood, stretched and then quickly walked over to the cubicle. Every associate in the area stopped what they were doing and watched as Greg held the Redbull Ross had been nursing and glanced around.
"Any ideas?" Greg asked as he shook the can.
"Here," Kyle tossed a pack of crushed up peanuts he'd taken from the bar the other night towards Greg. "That'll make it taste weird."
"Guys maybe we shouldn't…." Harold stopped talking at the look everyone shot him.
"That's what I thought," Kyle said.
"We had to go through it and so does he," Greg said. "Right?"
There was a murmur of agreement as he dumped the powdery remnants into the can, shook it up, threw the pack out and then walked back over to his cubicle to continue his work. Everyone else did the same thing until Mike came strolling back from wherever he had gone ten minutes later, sat down at his desk, spread his files out, and then reached for the can. It was then that everyone in cubicle land paused in their work and watched with bated breath as he took a big sip.
And then spit it out. All over his work. Double Score.
"What the fuck?"
"Yes!" Greg crowed as he and Kyle high-fived.
"Score one for the bwinners/b," Kyle finished.
"We're obviously superior," Greg nodded. "How's that drink there Ross?"
There was no response. Kyle and Greg then bumped fist to celebrate their epic prank of awesome.
"He obviously knows that we're better than he is."
"Guys…that's not it," Harold said. Kyle, Greg, and the others in the area stopped and looked at Harold, who was paler than he had been five minutes ago as he pointed towards Mike's cubicle where everyone else was now turning their gazes.
"Holy shit," Greg mumbled as he took in Mike Ross, flushed, sweating, and shaking as he stared at the red bull can with what could only be described as horror on his face.
"He's faking it," Kyle said as they all heard the uncomfortable way Mike Ross was….it didn't even sound like breathing. He was wheezing, choking, and fuck his hand was banging on the desk. "Or not, fuck, where's Specter?"
"He, Louis, and Jessica are all at lunch with those clients," Harold stood up.
"Fuck," Greg moved over to Ross. "Guys…he's turning blue. Fuck what did we do?"
"We did nothing, this was all you," Kyle pointed at Greg as he backed away from the scene but was stopped by the wall of other associates crowding around Mike Ross.
"What should we do? Is he choking?"
"Mike, can you tell us what's wrong?"
"We need to…"
"I'm going to get Donna!" Harold ran in the opposite direction. Everyone looked at each other with a mixture of shock and horror before they were distracted as Mike Ross banged on the desk again and fuck fuck his lips were turning blue and the flush on his skin had turned to what looked like hives.
"Here," Greg's hands shook as he reached Mike, who didn't even notice that Greg was trying to help him sit up. "Mike, guys, breathe, he's not breathing, no stay awake!"
"Slap him!" Kyle told him as he looked at everyone frantically. Everyone was frozen, watching the scene unfold before them. "Does anyone know CPR?"
"We're lawyers not doctors!"
"I'll go get some water to throw on him!"
"Someone do something!"
"Stay awake. Breathe goddamnit. That's not breathing!" Greg shouted as he waved his hands in front of Mike as though it would make the man do something other than wheeze and close his eyes. His shirt was almost soaked through now, pupils blown wide, hands scrabbling for this throat. "Oh fuck please don't die."
"What. The. Hell."
Everyone froze as they heard an all too familiar fear inducing voice behind them. They turned to find that Donna was there with Harold, both looking more than a little ragged. Donna took a look at all of them and then her gaze landed on Mike.
"Oh Jesus," she gasped before she pushed her way through the
associates. When Harold had come rushing over to her desk and mentioned the
words 'Mike' and 'can't breathe' in the same sentence Donna hadn't even
thought. She'd kicked her heels off and had run because
"We didn't do anything!" Kyle shouted.
"They put peanuts in his Redbull as a prank," Harold responded. "I'm calling 911."
Donna didn't say anything, though her hands shook just a little as she took in Mike's flushed skin, his sweaty neck, his eyes were half-lidded and he was gasping and wheezing to match. Because she was Donna she knew that Mike had a severe allergy to peanuts, the kind that would kill him if she didn't act fast. She was more than a little scared because of the sheer look of terror in his eyes as he looked at her.
She snapped her fingers; Harold pressed the spare Epi-Pen she always kept with her into her hand. It was always good to be prepared for such an occasion though she never thought it would be because of some goddamn hazing ritual. She popped the cap off, spread the fabric Mike's pants out and then pressed the needle into his thigh and prayed to god that she had done this in enough time.
"Oh god," Greg muttered beside her but Donna spared him a mere glare, focused more on getting Mike to breathe again because his face was still red, his pulse was too fast. She was more than a little terrified that she hadn't gotten there in time.
"Harold, tell the operator that we have someone at Pearson Hardman who has gone into Anaphylactic Shock because of a peanut allergy," Donna said as she looked at Mike and pushed down her fear in order to focus on him. He needed her right now and she wasn't about to let him down. She reached out covered both of his hands with hers, let him turn his to squeeze. He felt so clammy and cold. His eyes had started to droop. She pinched the skin on the back of his hand to wake him up. "Tell them that he's been injected with an Epi-Pen but I think he needs a second dose. Tell them to hurry."
Thank you for reading, as always feedback is most appreciated.