It's always the same.
Mike lands with butterflies in his stomach and his hands itching to touch Harvey.
Harvey greets him with a tight smile and an even tighter hug, grabs his bag and throws it into the trunk of the car. He doesn't touch Mike's skin until their safely through the door of Harvey's apartment and then it's all desperation and soft growls and God missed you and touch me and you're skinnier.
After Trevor dropped the bomb, ruined whatever good Mike had in his life and nearly ruined Harvey's, Mike had, at a loss of what to do, enlisted, gone against Harvey's wishes and done it, signing his life away in the only way he knew how.
Harvey had been furious, left bruises on Mike's arm trying to shake some sense into him and there may have been words whispered harsh against Mike's ear about how he was Harvey's, no one else's, no one else got to tell Mike what do to.
The first time Mike left Harvey had been sullen, not speaking for days before hand and Mike had let him sulk, touched him gently whenever he could and let Harvey lose himself in Mike's body at night, hidden the tear that had escaped when Harvey whispered stay safe and you come back to me against his neck.
He'd stayed safe, kept his head down, came back to Harvey with a few scars, and a new aversion to loud noises.
Now every time he comes back Harvey is there, with a tight smile and an even tighter hug, jaw muscles twitching and hands not touching until they're in the safety of his apartment.
It's always the same.
Harvey does the usual inspection of his body, runs his fingers gently across Mike's skin, pauses in the discoloured places to press, to draw out small hisses and tiny hitches in Mike's breath, counts the scars and raises his eyebrows at new ones and Mike has to go through them, name each one in turn as Harvey's surprisingly soft hands pause over them.
Shrapnel from a mortar blast.
Playing football with the guys, landed on a stray nail.
Stray bullet.
Harvey pauses longer on that one, his eyes narrowing at Mike in the near darkness, other hand twitching against Mike's ribs. He presses in harder against the pink line on his forearm and Mike turns away.
I'm ok.
Harvey's nostrils flare, fingers twitching against Mike's ribs again but he nods once, his hands moving again and Mike answers every unasked question, lets Harvey touch as much as he needs, reassure himself that Mike is there, whole for the most part, and completely alive.
Then, when he's sure Mike is there, and only then, he fucks Mike, pushes inside with a groan and his fingers try to tangle into Mike's too short hair, his eyes trained on Mike's the entire time.
He falls asleep with his arms around Mike, pulling him back against his chest and his lips resting on the back of Mike's neck.
It's always the same.
Harvey takes as much time off work as possible, and Mike goes into the office with him when he can, gossips with Rachel, nods politely at Jessica, accepts bear hugs from Donna and every now and then will break a case for Harvey without even trying and Harvey just raises an eye brow at Jessica when he does. And Harvey gets the look in his eyes whenever Mike uses his brain and pushes Mike to his knees in the glass elevator on the way home and grips hard at Mike's shoulders.
Each time, Mike only mentions once how long he has, doesn't need the constant count down, 14 days, 10, 7, 3, don't go, Harvey always remembers and gets quieter as the day draws closer, touches Mike longer and fucks him harder and Mike gets the possessiveness in his kiss, the way he seems to want to brand Mike, fuck him so hard Mike will still feel him thousands of miles away in a god forsaken desert. As if Mike could ever stop feeling him. He doesn't remember how to not feel Harvey.
Its easier with Grammy, she greets with easy, genuine smiles, small fragile hands and gentle slaps to the back of his head, smiles knowingly at Harvey likes there's some secret between them and Mike has to smile back at that because his two favourite people have a secret and he loves that Harvey can look after Grammy whilst he's away.
Harvey holds Mike afterwards, as Mike grips at his shirt, kisses away the what if she's not here next time I get back, runs his hands down Mike's back and runs his thumbs across Mike's cheeks.
It's always the same.
And Harvey never says goodbye. Not with words anyway. Harvey says goodbye with a tight smile and an even tighter hug, hand lingering at the back of Mike's head, stroking gently across the nape of his neck. His eyes shining across at Mike and all Mike wants to do is kiss him till neither of them can remember their names, run his fingers over Harvey's forehead, across the mole over his eyes but he touches the back of Harvey's hand instead, promises with his eyes he'll be back. Harvey nods smiles in the way that makes Mike want to cry, and is gone before Mike can change him mind.
It's always the same.
Back in the desert with sand in his eyes, under his nails and in his boots, he smiles thinking of Harvey, crinkles Harvey's letter in his pocket and tries to forget the bone deep ache of separation, the fact that he longs for Harvey's dark voice in his ear and his hot, hard hand around him.
He even longs to see the tight smile and feel the even tighter hug, because that would mean he was home.
He keeps his head down, stays safe, calls Harvey whenever he can, writes to Grammy every other day and receives his care packages from Donna, with little notes from Rachel thrown in, pours over every single word Harvey writes like there's a hidden meaning when all Harvey really says with his words, the message that comes through loud and clear is exquisite in its simplicity.
I love you, I miss you, come home safe.
It's always the same.