Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harvey's silver Lexus rumbled up the long gravel driveway, kicking dust into the late afternoon sun. A modest, two-story house stood ahead, framed by tall oak trees and the golden flicker of leaves starting to turn. It looked nothing like the sleek condos and boardrooms Harvey Specter usually surrounded himself with.

Harvey slowed the car and glanced over at Mike, grabbing his hand and running his hand over Mike's ring.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, fingers threading through Mike’s.

Mike grinned, thumb brushing lightly across Harvey’s knuckles. "I'm pretty good at charming you, Specters"

"Don't I know it," Harvey replied, lips twitching into a half-smile.

There was a beat of quiet as the car came to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Harvey's smile faded, just slightly, as he stared ahead at the house—his brother’s house. The one place in the world where he couldn’t bluff or bark his way out of things.

Mike noticed the shift, and his teasing softened into something more sincere. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “If this goes south, we could get Donna to make up an emergency and leave."

Harvey’s smile twitched again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They both sat in the quiet for another few seconds, neither reaching for the door yet.

Mike’s hand squeezed his. “Hey. It’s gonna be fine.”

Harvey glanced at him, the usual confidence in his eyes dulled by something softer. “I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

Mike’s smile faltered. “Never?”

Harvey shook his head. “Not girlfriends. Not flings. Not... anyone. Marcus knows Harvey from New York. Not the guy who’s—” He stopped himself, then smirked. “—pathetically in love with a loudmouthed genius who wears scuffed sneakers with thousand-dollar suits.”

Mike blinked. “Okay, I’m gonna let the 'loudmouthed' part slide because you said ‘in love.’”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

Harvey sighed and finally opened the car door. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped out together, the crisp fall air carrying the scent of distant wood smoke and dry leaves.

The front door creaked open, and a man stepped out onto the porch, squinting into the sun. Tall and broad-shouldered like Harvey, Marcus Specter. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and watched them approach.

“Harvey,” Marcus called, descending the porch steps with that familiar sibling blend of wariness and affection. “You actually made it.”

Harvey walked ahead, meeting his brother with a quick, one-armed hug. “Told you I would.”

“You say a lot of things,” Marcus replied, clapping him on the back before his eyes shifted to the man beside him.

Mike stepped forward with a smile and extended a hand. “Mike Ross. Nice to meet you.”

Marcus shook it, polite but distant. “Marcus. So you’re the partner.”

“That’s me,” Mike said easily.

There was a pause, a split-second of quiet where Mike could feel the weight of Marcus’s gaze on him—calculating, measuring. Not outright hostile, but definitely… assessing.

"Gonna make us stand out here all night?" Harvey joked, sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat.

Marcus gave a short laugh, the kind that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Right. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, holding the screen door open. Mike offered a polite smile as he passed, and Harvey followed close behind.

The inside was cozy, cluttered in the way only a house with kids could be. A stack of board games leaned precariously against the TV stand, and there were scattered crayon drawings on the fridge, one of which featured what Mike could only assume was a unicorn with a mohawk.

“Guest room’s down the hall,” Marcus said, gesturing vaguely. “First door on the left. Bathrooms across from it. You guys can drop your stuff and come back for dinner. It’s just about ready.”

“Smells great,” Mike said, meaning it.

Marcus nodded. “Lasagna. Haley’s favourite. She asked me to make extra in case she comes back tomorrow early.”

“Smart girl,” Harvey said. “She always did have taste.”

“Yeah,” Marcus replied, not looking at him. “Some of us still know what that is.”

Harvey’s brow twitched, but he didn’t bite.

Mike, sensing the tension, shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “We’ll get settled in.”

Marcus gave a quick nod and disappeared into the kitchen.

Once they were alone in the guest room, Mike looked at Harvey with a pointed expression. “You sure he’s not secretly Louis in disguise?”

Harvey snorted. "That would be awkward, remember, considering my relationship with Louis's wife", Harvey joked, earning a laugh from Mike but having to dodge a smack as well.

Harvey sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. “It could’ve been worse. He’s just… cautious. And overprotective.”

“Sounds familiar,” Mike said with a pointed look.

Harvey smirked. “You love that about me.”

Mike leaned against the dresser, folding his arms. “So, any chance you maybe gave him a little heads-up? About who I am, how we met, what I do, or—oh, I don’t know—anything at all?”

Harvey looked vaguely guilty. “I told him I was bringing someone important.”

Mike groaned. “Harvey.”

“I figured meeting you would be more effective than me explaining.”

“Right, because what could possibly go wrong with dropping a whole relationship bombshell on your estranged sibling with no prep?”

“Mike—”

“I mean, it’s not like we’re engaged or anything,” Mike added sarcastically.

Harvey gave him a look.

Mike paused. “...You didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell him,” Harvey admitted. “I wanted him to meet you first. Get to know you.”

Mike dragged a hand down his face. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It’s not,” Harvey said firmly. “He’ll come around. Just... be yourself.”

“Right. Myself. The guy who worked under you, fell in love with you, and is now planning to marry you. That definitely won’t raise any red flags.”

Harvey stood and walked over to him, placing both hands on Mike’s hips. “I don’t care how long it takes. He’ll see what I see.”

Mike looked at him for a moment, then his face softened. “What do you see?”

Harvey smiled. “Someone worth betting everything on.”

Mike’s expression flickered, touched. “Okay. Fine. But if he stabs me with a salad fork, I’m calling Donna.”

Harvey leaned in and kissed him, brief but grounding. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Dinner was warm, fragrant, and just tense enough that Mike felt like he was navigating a deposition. Marcus’s lasagna sat steaming in the centre of the table, with garlic bread piled high beside it and a big bowl of salad that had clearly been made to appease someone’s sense of balance.

“So,” Marcus began as he served generous squares onto their plates, “how was the drive up?”

“Uneventful,” Harvey replied shortly, cutting into his lasagna. “Mike complained about my music. As usual.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “If you call the same three Sinatra albums on repeat ‘music,’ then sure.”

Marcus huffed what might’ve been a laugh, though it was hard to tell. “Guess some things never change.”

Harvey smirked at Mike. “Don't act like you didn’t hum along to half of them.”

Mike froze, fork hovering halfway to his mouth. “I did not. You need your ears checked; it must be old age getting to you."

Harvey arched a brow, "You of all people should know that so-called old age doesn't affect me or my performance in any way."

Mike choked on a laugh, nearly spilling his water. “Wow. Did you just brag about your stamina at your brother’s dinner table?”

Harvey didn’t flinch, just smirked. “If the shoe fits.”

Marcus set his fork down, staring between them like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or horrified. “Some things I did not need to hear.”

The moment teetered between levity and tension, and Mike jumped in before the balance tipped the wrong way. “Seriously, though, this is incredible, Marcus. Do you cook like this often?”

Marcus shrugged. “Most nights. Kids keep me honest. If it’s not lasagna, it’s roast chicken, tacos, whatever I can throw together that doesn’t burn.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Honestly, I’m impressed. Harvey never mentioned you could cook like this.”

Marcus gave him a flat look. “Harvey never mentioned a lot of things.” He sipped his water, then set the glass down with deliberate care. “So, Mike… what exactly do you do?”

Mike blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “I work with Harvey, I'm a lawyer.”

Marcus’s gaze sharpened, studying Mike. "Must be hard, working together as a couple"

Mike shrugged, keeping his tone light but careful. “It has its challenges, sure. But we make it work."

The rest of dinner passed in cautious conversation, with laughter and light stories, but underneath it all, Marcus’s protective watch lingered, a reminder that this visit was far from over.

Once the last crumbs were cleared, they moved into the living room for drinks. The warmth of the fireplace replaces the sharp tension of the dining table. Marcus poured whiskey into three glasses, the amber liquid catching the firelight.

He passed one to Mike, his eyes lingering just a moment longer than necessary on Mike’s left hand

Mike caught the look and followed his gaze down to the engagement ring glinting on his finger. “Marcus—”

Marcus’s voice cut sharper than the crackle of the fire. “You’re engaged.”

Harvey stiffened, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. “Yeah. That’s… that’s not news.”

"Harv", Mike warned

Marcus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Not news? Really, Harvey? Because from where I’m sitting, you never told me. You just expect me to sit here and be okay with it?”

Mike shifted in his seat, reaching subtly for Harvey’s hand under the table. “Marcus—”

“No, Mike,” Marcus interrupted sharply, voice rising. “I’m talking to him. I don't even know you, Mike"

Harvey’s jaw tightened, glass still hovering halfway to his lips. “You don't need to, I know him"

Marcus leaned forward, eyes flashing. “You know him? From what you've told me, you've been together less than a year!"

Harvey set his glass down, the clink sharp in the quiet room. “I don’t need your approval. I don’t need anyone’s approval. Mike is part of my life. That’s final.”

Mike squeezed Harvey’s hand under the table, voice low. “Marcus, please—”

“No, Mike,” Marcus cut him off, standing abruptly. “I’m talking to him! Harvey, you leap into things without thinking, and now you expect me to just nod and smile because he has a ring on his finger?”

Harvey’s jaw flexed, eyes hard. “I’m telling you, Marcus. I made my choice. I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you. Mike matters to me. End of discussion.”

Marcus slammed his hand on the coffee table, whiskey rattling in the glass. “End of discussion? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just drop life-changing news on me and walk away!”

Harvey’s voice rose, cold and measured. “I’m done explaining myself and my relationship tonight.”

With that, he grabbed his glass and stormed toward the guest room, leaving Mike stuck between them, heart pounding.

Mike whispered after him, “Harv… baby, come on,” but Harvey didn’t slow, so instead Mike followed him.

Marcus sank back into the sofa, running a hand through his hair. The firelight danced across his face, but it did nothing to soften the storm brewing inside him. The living room, once warm and inviting, now felt suffocating.

Chapter Text

The morning sun crept through the kitchen windows, casting long stripes across the floor. The house was quiet, almost unnervingly so, the kind of quiet that made Marcus’s thoughts spin. Last night’s argument still lingered in the air like smoke—Harvey’s defiance, Mike’s nervous attempts to mediate, the engagement ring gleaming under the firelight. He ran a hand through his hair and sipped his coffee, dreading the moment the kids would arrive, knowing that their energy and laughter would collide with the storm still swirling in his mind.

He glanced at the clock and heard the faint hum of a car pulling into the driveway.

Katie, cheerful as always, appeared in the doorway, her hands full of backpacks and lunchboxes. “Morning, Marcus! Ready?”

He forced a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Behind her, the kids tumbled in, voices rising in a storm of laughter and complaints about the drive. Marcus crouched to greet them, hugging small arms tight, trying to focus on the present. Their energy was contagious, and for a moment, it pushed the tension of last night to the edges of his mind.

Katie handed him the last backpack. “You're brothers here this weekend with his partner, right?"

Marcus paused, trying to mask the tight knot forming in his chest. “Yeah,” he said carefully, setting the backpack down, "His fiancée"

Katie’s eyebrows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Fiancée, huh? That’s… serious. Especially for Harvey,"

Marcus nodded, forcing a casual shrug. “It is. Just… a lot to process, I guess.”

Katie smiled, handing him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve got your hands full this weekend. Try not to kill your brother this weekend”

Marcus laughed softly, the sound tight. “No promises.”

The kids were already racing toward the living room, squealing and chasing each other around the furniture. Marcus watched them, a warm pull in his chest contrasting with the knot of unease that lingered in his gut.

Harvey was up first, moving through the kitchen. He moved with that habitual precision Marcus had always noted—the way he measured out the coffee, filled the kettle just so, lined the mugs neatly on the counter.

Marcus sat in the living room, the kids having gone upstairs to unpack, phone in hand, but his attention was fixed across the room. Every movement Harvey made was sharp, efficient, and calculated. It almost irritated Marcus—the way his brother could look so composed when Marcus’s own chest still felt tight with the weight of everything unsaid.

From the corner of his eye, Marcus caught movement. Mike padded in, hair a mess, swallowed by an old Harvard sweatshirt that Marcus recognised instantly as Harvey’s. He didn’t say a word—just walked up behind Harvey, sliding his arms around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mike pressed his cheek against Harvey’s back, then tipped his head up, chin brushing Harvey’s shoulder as he murmured something Marcus couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made Harvey’s mouth twitch, the closest thing to a smile Marcus had seen since yesterday.

Marcus’s chest tightened. The picture in front of them was an intimate one, in a way that words couldn't explain - a familiarity and a sense of safety. He had never seen Harvey like this—unguarded, allowing someone else to soften the edges he’d always kept so sharp.

Before Marcus could swallow the knot in his throat, the thunder of feet pounded down the stairs.

“Uncle Harvey!” one of the kids shouted, bursting into the kitchen with a grin, the other one tumbling close behind like a pack of wild puppies.

Mike stepped back just in time as two small bodies collided with Harvey’s legs, nearly toppling his careful balance. Harvey, for all his sharp suits and colder-than-steel reputation, let out a startled laugh, bending to steady them.

“Careful, you maniacs,” he muttered, but his hand ruffled their hair with an ease that gave Marcus another pang he couldn’t quite name.

Mike crouched down too, smiling wide as the kids shifted their attention toward him, chattering questions and tugging at the oversized sweatshirt sleeves that dangled past his hands.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, forcing a smile as he watched the chaos unfold. The storm of last night still pressed heavy on his chest, but right now, the kitchen was full of warmth and noise—and there was no ignoring how naturally Harvey and Mike fit into it.