The final part of War Wounds trilogy, part one War Wounds, part two We Only Part To Meet Again

The last time Mike comes home he throws himself into Harvey's arms, like he's wanted to do each and every time for the last five years but didn't because people were watching and it wasn't the place. But he does it now, and he doesn't care who's watching, who will see, because Harvey's here, with his arms around him, whispering welcome home Kiddo into his ear, rather than with his usual tight smile like he knows Mike's secret and Mike's pretty sure life can't get any better.

It does get better though when Harvey presses his hand to Mike's lower back and tells him he has three days off work, with a wry smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

Three days to get to know Harvey's body again, to remind himself of the places that make Harvey groan, of the places that turn Harvey's eyes from soft and kind to hard and dangerous. Three days for Harvey to show Mike exactly how much he's missed him. Three days to find the perfect way to tell Harvey his secret.

Harvey does the usual inspection and for once Mike's got no new scars to show him, no stories to tell, and Harvey's face is a strange mixture of impasse and relief, like he's trying to stop the raw emotions from showing on his face and Mike kisses him hard, crawls into his lap and lowers himself down, virtually no prep and little lube, just to remind himself that he can have this now. He'll take it slow later, let Harvey touch him all he wants, but right now he just needs to feel. Harvey runs his hands through Mike's hair, tips his head back and mouths at his throat, but not before Mike catches the slightly worried expression on his face. The expression that reads are you ok? Mike drags his hands through Harvey's hair and presses his hips downwards.

I'm ok.

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, sweat cold on his forehead and Harvey's arms hot around him and his heart is beating loudly in his ears, skin prickling uncomfortably from whatever nightmare he'd pulled himself from and it takes him a few seconds to remember he's back in New York. Harvey shifts behind him, presses his lips to the back of Mike's neck and mutters something against his skin, something that sounds like I've got you, and Mike feels himself relax back against Harvey's solid presence.

Mike wakes later in the morning at a more appropriate time to the smell of coffee and the sound of Harvey making breakfast and it's so unbelievably domestic and normal that Mike feels the threat of tears, the fucking relief that he's finally home, for good. He buries his head into their pillows and breathes in the scent of sleepy Harvey before standing, popping his back and making his way into the kitchen.

Harvey's shirtless, skin golden and smooth, hair un-immaculate, sticking up in places and however much Mike loves him in suits, he loves him even more like this, when the real Harvey Specter comes through the facade. Harvey turns, flashes that brilliant smile of his even though it's tinged with something like sadness, hands Mike coffee and cups his face and his palms are hot from the coffee, runs a thumb across his cheekbone.

Mike watches the muscles in his back move and he pokes at the pancakes and then there's a bang and a clatter of the spatula hitting the counter and Mike's spilling coffee on the marble floor and Harvey is kissing the breath out of him.

You came home.

Somehow Mike manages to get the cup on a solid surface and returns the kiss as Harvey presses him into the counter and licks into his mouth. Mike groans, runs a hand through his messy hair and tilts his head to the side to kiss against Harvey's pulse.

I promised you I would.

Mike leans into him, his fingers playing against the waistband of Harvey's old Harvard track pants, worn and tired with age but soft under his fingers. Harvey lets him go, takes a step backwards and runs a finger down the centre of Mike's chest, pausing at a shrapnel scar from a few years back and Mike covers his hand with his own. Harvey's nostril's twitch and his face is impassive but Mike squeezes his hand once and Harvey picks up the spatula and manages to flip a pancake before it burns.

As he turns Mike catches the grin that threatens to break out over his face and he presses a kiss between Harvey's warm shoulders before he settles down on one of the bar stools and watches as Harvey finishes making breakfast, the grin still threatening on the corner of his mouth.

Harvey's pancakes are as good as Mike remembers them and he grins at Harvey around a mouthful and Harvey rolls his eyes, but there's no malice there and it almost looks like he's trying to hold himself back from dragging Mike back to the bedroom. It's been so long since they had this, this just ibeing/i with each other, that Mike forgot the way that Harvey's eyes going dark across the counter makes him feel like he's somehow not worthy of all the focused attention. Harvey cracks a smile and he drags his eyes away from Mike's mouth.

It takes a day and a half for Harvey to ask the question that he dreads asking and Mike's got his head under the sink which decided to back up as he was washing up and Harvey kicks his foot gently.

How long?

Mike feels like the question has been building between them for the past day and a half, Harvey not wanting to ask because he doesn't want to know when Mike will walk out of his life again. But Mike's been desperate to tell him, to blurt it out when Harvey's buried deep inside, fingers in his hair.

Mike lifts his head slightly, twists and turns and pulls it out from under the sink and grins up at Harvey, wiping his arm across his forehead.

Not going anywhere.

Harvey freezes for a second before hauling Mike to his feet and looking at him like he thinks Mike might be lying. Mike smiles and nods once and then he's got an armful of Harvey and is being lifted onto the counter and Harvey grips at his hips hard as he pushes inside Mike's body.

You promise?

I promise.

Harvey has this way of making Mike feel calm, making him think of nothing other than the way his hands feel of Mike's skin, and he thinks part of the reason why he's so hopelessly in love with Harvey is that he makes his brain shut down enough that he can sleep.

Not that he sleeps much; he spends most nights caught between nightmares of unidentifiable dangers and wondering how the hell he got so lucky as to get Harvey. Harvey doesn't wake, most of the time, just tightens his grip on Mike like he subconsciously knows Mike needs it, presses his lips to Mike's neck and Mike feels the tension drain from his body and he wakes, an hour or so later with light streaming in through the window, Harvey's empty space and the smell of coffee.

When Harvey does wake he wants to talk about it, even struggling to get back to reality Mike can feel the words heavy between them but Mike shakes his head, kisses him hard and distracts him with hands and his tongue and Harvey drops the subject, presses Mike into the mattress and fucks him hard enough that Mike forgets the bangs and screams, the smell and sights of his nightmares.

There's been an overhanging cloud of unease since Mike got back, the fact that Harvey thought he would be leaving again soon, but it lifts as soon as Mike spills his well kept secret and Harvey smiles more at him, a smile that never seems to leave his eyes even when he announces he has to go back to work, it doesn't matter because Mike will be here when he gets back, with take-out and a warm body, or a crappy movie and a blanket, cold toes but warm hands. They don't need to use every single moment now because there's no threat that it will be taken away. Not anymore. Not now Mike's left that life. It takes him a week to tell Harvey that he feels he's let people down by leaving and Harvey grips at him hard, tells him he hasn't let Harvey down, and with a wry smile, tells Mike that Harvey is the only person that matters now.

Mike slips into the showers behind Harvey sometimes and falls to his knees, swallows Harvey down in one go and looks up in time to catch the look of relief, unabashed and pure as he gazes down at Mike and swipes his thumbs across Mike's wet cheeks.

I love you.

I know.

Harvey goes back to work, leaving Mike alone to think about his future, about what he's going to do now. Harvey helps every now and then, offering solutions, telling Mike he doesn't have to do anything, that Mike can be a kept man if he wants but Mike smiles, kisses along Harvey's collar bone and tells him he has to do something. Harvey nods, runs his hands through Mike's hair.

It doesn't matter though, what Mike does, how he lives his life now that he's not fighting for it, because he's got Harvey, finally, properly, and since he blustered into the interview and threw pot on the floor, that's all he's ever really wanted. And when he wakes in the middle of the night with nightmares, clutching at Harvey, or striking out at him, Harvey just pulls him close and whispers hotly in his ear.

You're home now kiddo.