City lights glide across the tinted window glass like shooting stars in the night sky he finds himself doing his best to look at around the buildings of the concrete jungle Ray navigates the car through. He decides that it's not worth the crick in his neck and looks out towards the people on the sidewalk instead.

He fears the display of emotions of pedestrian faces, but after a few blocks he finds himself looking for just one that isn't buried in some sort of portable technology. The ache in his chest that he's been drowning out with the burn of liquor since he left the office intensifies and he downs the next shot before he realizes he's ever poured it. He stares at the glass, twisting it in his fingers before the absurdity of drinking his feelings away catches up to him. With a heavy sigh, he sets the shot glass down and picks up the files discarded in the seat next to him.

He scans it over, impressed by the mind that's written it, by the work that's been put into it and by the glitch only someone with a heart half on their sleeve could catch.

He looks back out the window, catching the entrance to Yankee Stadium as they drive by, not missing the pairs of fathers and sons wandering around out front. For a reason he won't admit to, he looks to his driver, "Ray...", and can't seem to finish the sentence that's disoriented on his tongue.

"Of course, Harvey."

The lawyer sets his jaw and turns his attention back to the city outside of his car window just in time to see Ray direct the car in an opposite direction of his home, while he reminds himself to either scold or praise Donna for knowing him all to well.

Minutes pass before the car rolls delicately to a stop outside the cemetery, and Harvey can't bring himself to exit right away, but a small prompting from his driver has him collecting two shot glasses and the bottle of scotch before he can even make up his mind.

He opens the door, places one leg out and says, "Thanks Ray," before getting out completely.

"Would you like me to wait?" Ray asks, ignoring the gratitude that wasn't needed.

Harvey ducks back down offering only a rise of the corner of his mouth and a shake of his head. "Go enjoy the rest of your Father's Day with your kids," he says and closes the door, not even hearing the tires in the small gravel as it pulls off while he makes his way into the cemetery.

It doesn't take him long to find the one he's looking for, but not because he's been here several times before. In fact, he's never been here at all, but a skinny clad kid stands languidly in front of a slightly aged gravestone and he knows he doesn't have to search.

He walks up behind the kid, purposefully knocking the shot glasses in his left hand with the bottle in his right to bring the guy out of whatever head space he's in. He notices the red-rimmed eyes turned towards him before the kid can even wipe the emotions away from them with one quick swipe of his hand. His cheeks gain a slight flush, his ears much more, but Harvey cuts off the stuttered rambling before it even starts by placing the two shot glasses on the headstone and pouring scotch into them.

Placing the bottle down, he glances at his associate and picks the two shot glasses up, handing one to Mike and keeping the other for himself. He lifts his own halfway between them, waiting for the younger man to do the same so their glasses will clink together.

"To fathers." Mike says, taking his eyes off his father's grave to stare at his own shot before glancing up at Harvey and holding his glass out. He notices his boss recoil his scotch half an inch and cock his head to the side slightly with a look Mike has only seen once when he told Harvey his grandmother had died at his apartment door and his boss had just replied, "I know."

Harvey looks at him a moment, then down at the waiting scotch in his glass, giving it a twirl. He raises his head back up and holds his glass out once more, nodding his head towards Mike with indication.

"To brothers."

Mike's physically hesitant to commit to such a toast, but a smirk, that's usually followed by something along the lines of, 'You care', that Harvey's humorously used to, shows that Mike's heart is already in it.

Harvey quirks an eyebrow, ready for his associate to do something worthy of mocking and waits with a half smirk of his own.

"You really take the phrase "over my dead body" to whole other level with this caring thing." He says, and Harvey can finally let his eyes do the roll they've been anticipating from the start.

"I'm drinking my scotch." Harvey replies, taking his glass away from the offered toast, doing it slowly because he knows Mike will instantly commit to it now.

"Woah, woah!" He holds his hand out to the side in a gesture of surrender and extends his glass once more. "To brothers."

Harvey smirks again and knocks his shot into Mike's before both down their own in one swig, riding out the burn in unison before laughing at it all.

Mike looks at his empty glass longingly. "Not to be morbid, but if you're planning on visiting your father's grave with that scotch, I want to come," he chuckles, until he glances up at Harvey's 'Really?' expression. "Well, you know, for support...and did...for me." Mike staggers in characteristic awkwardness.

Harvey's eyes roll again, but the smirk remains. He shakes his head for good measure while taking the shot glass from Mike's hand and picking up the bottle of scotch from the headstone.

"Come on." He orders, heading towards the exit.

"Where are we going?" He hears Mike ask, already trying to catch up.

"Well, I got to thinking we never carried out our plan of pissing in Louis' office when we were high, so I thought we could finish this bottle and follow through." Harvey chuckles, and listens to Mike's excited mantra of 'Oh my God's and 'Hell yes's while he hails them cab.

And if Louis walks in Monday morning to a urinated office and a broken glass wall that definitely wasn't broken in the process of a ninth inning walk-off home run in a game of Specter vs. Ross office baseball, then Harvey at least had an accomplice to share the glory with and a little brother to pin it on when Jessica started asking questions.

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.