It was another fight. A stupid fight. Mike wasn't sure how it started or ended but he knew he had ended up in the living room at three am just to be away from it. Was it a case? Mike couldn't remember and that said something about the emotional state he was in. He thought it might have been about a client. Harvey didn't tell him something important and left him out of the loop. Something.

Mike just hated that Harvey still didn't tell him things. They'd been getting better at talking things out, about communicating, but sometimes Mike just… couldn't deal with it. Hours out on the couch wasn't going to solve that though. He knew this was part of Harvey's baggage. He knew people didn't change overnight. It had only been eight months. Sometimes people fell back into old patterns and it had been a long week. That seemed to be how these things happened. Weeks where they spent a good amount of time apart; only seeing each other in passing, even at the office, no dinner together or lunch, big cases with high stress and time crunches.

The door to their bedroom opened and Harvey came out. Seeing Mike on the couch seemed to surprise him and then he just looked… relieved.

Something about the expression had Mike giving a weak smile because yes he was mad, but sometimes Harvey would just get really vulnerable in ways Mike didn't fully understand yet. Sometimes when they fought, Harvey would get really scared and apologetic. But Mike didn't push. He didn't ask. This time though, he really needed to ask.

Because he had an idea of the answer.

"What?" Harvey asked after a moment.

Mike shrugged. "Sometimes you get this look on your face like you're surprised to see me."

A moment passed and Harvey didn't say anything. He stared at Mike with something akin to fear threatening to boil up.

"Harvey, you can tell me. You know you can tell me anything. But it keeps happening. You keep looking like that and I need you to stop, so please tell me. I'm so tired of having to guess at things."

Mike watched as his husband slowly came forward and sat next to him on the couch. "I—you see… I want to get rid of the guest room. Maybe turn it into an office or a gym? We could put your books in there—the ones still in storage."

It was lucky that Mike was learning to speak Harvey or he would be so lost. "So why do you want to do that?"

"Well, we never use it and it's just taking up space. I really like the idea of a rowing machine—"

"Harvey."

The older man went quiet and Mike used the moment to grab Harvey's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I don't want you sleeping in there."

Okay that was super endearing and it wasn't fair. "Why not? Why does it scare you?"

Harvey glared at him, but there wasn't any heat to it. "You know why."

"But I think you'd feel better if you told me." If their relationship had taught him anything, it was when he needed to be patient. He had all night. Hell, he had the rest of their lives. Mike took a moment to lean against the arm of the couch, before opening his arms wide. Harvey sighed like he was humoring Mike as he moved to lay against him, his back to Mike's chest. They did this sometimes, when they were tired or stressed or bored. Once they did it when Harvey was super drunk—he had gone to a bar with an old colleague—he said it made him feel safe.

Mike didn't forget.

So they sat, and Mike waited.

"For the last few years of their marriage, my parents slept in separate beds."

It was like the last bit of the puzzle had fallen into place for Mike.

"I keep thinking that one day you'll wake up and you'll realize what a stupid idea it was to marry me and you'll go back to that room and we won't be real anymore." Harvey looked up at him. "And I know it's stupid—"

"No, stop writing emotion off as stupid. We've talked about this."

The older man made a face like he didn't quite believe it yet but then went back to looking off in the distance. "Well, now you know. I get… I get scared. Just at the idea of it. Since we fought about Trevor during that Week."

The infamous week where they scrambled to get married had become "that Week" with everything the capitalization implied. Mike squeezed Harvey a little tighter. "And you say you didn't know you loved me."

"Trevor demanded I tell him I loved you. When I told him I did, he believed it."

Mike chuckled. "Well you put on a convincing show."

Apparently it was Harvey's turn to laugh. "No, I didn't. The only one I was fooling was me… and maybe you."

The sat like that for a few minutes. Sometimes that Week still seemed like a dream—that any minute Mike would wake up and his married life never existed.

He buried his face in the crook of Harvey's neck. "I feel that way too sometimes. That you'll change your mind."

Harvey sighed and Mike could almost sense what he was going to say.

Mike cut him off. "You're not allowed to call me an idiot if you feel the same."

Harvey kept quiet.

The associate sighed into Harvey's shoulder. "It's late. Why don't we just go to bed? We can talk about what we'll do with the guest bedroom tomorrow." Neither one of them made a move to get up.

Harvey hummed low—like he could fall asleep then and there, though Mike knew Harvey's back wouldn't let him. "Maybe someday we could… make it a kid's room."

Mike's heart stopped. He squeezed Harvey tighter and breathed him in as his heart started pumping a mile a minute. He wished he could see Harvey's face because his voice gave nothing away. "Someday…" Sometimes Harvey made plans and Mike was just completely dumbfounded that Harvey would still want him that far in the future. "I'd like that. If you're up for it, old man."

"It's us, Mike. We can do anything."

And Mike could tell he believed that.