Hey everybody! Hope you're all having a good summer. Sorry I haven't been updating much, but I've been pretty busy with work and stuff. This chapter is kind of random, and it was weird for me to go back to insecure 14-year-old Mike after writing so much older Mike for the past few chapters, but hopefully I've done this justice. I'm hoping to be able to update a little more often from here on out, so stay tuned. Thanks for your patience!

This chapter is especially dedicated to phoenix on cloud nine, to whom I owe some fluff :D Love you El! Hope this helps ;P

Chapter 6: The First Father's Day

Mike's age: 14 ½ (aka he's been back to living with Harvey for a couple of months now)

But all is fleeting...yeah, but all is good

And my love is my whole being and I shared what I could

But if you give a little love you can get a little love of your own

Don't break his heart

-From "Give a Little Love" by Noah and the Whale

The mug slipped out of Mike's hands and lay in splinters on the ground before he even had time to register what was happening. There was no aborted attempt to dive for it, no gasp of horror as the porcelain smashed into smithereens, no wince at the high-pitched shattering noise…all he knew was that one minute he was holding the wet, soapy mug, and the next minute it was laying on the kitchen floor, broken into millions of shards of navy blue.

Mike drew in a sharp breath as he dropped to his knees, his hands automatically reaching to scoop up the shards of glass and do something with them—he wasn't sure what, exactly, but he couldn't just stand there and do nothing. The mug was clearly completely beyond repair, but that didn't stop his anxious fingers from scrambling to pick up all the pieces.

He was dimly aware of someone calling his name, but he was too awash in panic to register the voice, much less to respond coherently. "Damnit," he murmured under his breath, and he knew he was far more frantic over the situation than he should have been.

He needed to fix this somehow. And he needed to do it fast, before Harvey came in and found out that Mike had just smashed his favorite mug on the kitchen floor. Harvey, who had received the now-broken 'World's Greatest Lawyer' mug from his father when he had graduated from Harvard and passed the bar. Harvey, who drank coffee out of said mug almost everyone morning at breakfast as he read over the newspaper or case files. Harvey, who…who was suddenly kneeling down in front of Mike, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.

"…Mike? You okay, kid?" Harvey was saying.

Mike could only nod, his throat oddly tight.

"Stop that! You're going to cut your fingers," Harvey said, his voice gentle but exasperated as he nimbly plucked the shards of glass that Mike was clutching out of his hands and stood to dump them in the nearby trashcan. "What's wrong with you? Do you want to have to get stitches or something?"

"Sorry, Harvey," Mike said helplessly, copying Harvey's motions and standing.

"Sit," Harvey said, lightly pushing Mike into one of the kitchen chairs. "You look pale. Did you cut yourself?"

Mike looked down at his hands, his stomach rolling slightly as he saw the blood coating the palm of his left hand. He nodded wordlessly, looking away from his hand to avoid the nausea that always overtook him at the sight of his own blood outside of its rightful place inside his body. Unfortunately, his gaze re-settled on the pile of blue porcelain and he felt the guilt and worry build anew in the pit of his stomach.

Harvey came over and took a gentle hold of Mike's left wrist to get a better look at the injured palm. "Stay here," he said, frowning critically. He padded off to the guest bathroom down the hall and returned a moment later with some antiseptic wipes and bandages. He pulled a chair up and took a seat directly across from Mike, close enough so that their knees brushed slightly.

"Give me your hand," Harvey said, his voice commanding but somehow low and reassuring at the same time. Mike placed his palm into Harvey's slightly larger, warmer hand, and watched as Harvey set to work, the older man's face diligent and focused. First he gently cleaned Mike's hand and then he dabbed some antibiotic cream on the jagged cut that crossed Mike's entire palm. It was painful, but shallow.

He looked up at Mike as he began wrapping a bandage around the wound. "So are you going to tell me what's going on here?"

Mike frowned and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, sensing an uncomfortable conversation about emotions hurtling his way at break-neck speed. "What do you mean? Nothing's going on. I just dropped the mug and cut my hand. No big deal."

"No big deal? Mike, I came to see what happened when I heard the crash and stood there for a solid minute calling your name," Harvey said. Mike flinched slightly at this, even though there was no anger in Harvey's voice. "And you didn't respond until I knelt down in front of you…were it anyone else, I'd say that yes, it was just a broken mug and cut on the hand. But there's more to this one than meets the eye for you, isn't there?"

"I'm sorry about the mug," Mike said quietly.

"It's fine, Mike. It was an accident," Harvey said kindly, squeezing Mike's left wrist gently before letting go of the now-bandaged hand.

He was being too nice. Mike was waiting for the other shoe to drop; for Harvey to realize that Mike hadn't just broken any old mug, but rather one that was irreplaceable in its sentimental value "Or at least I'm assuming it was an accident," Harvey mused. "Maybe we should sign you up for boxing lessons if you've taken to throwing mugs on the ground to release your emotions." He grinned slightly at Mike, clearly expecting that this would make Mike laugh.

But it just made Mike feel worse. "It was an accident," he said softly, unsure as to why his voice was trembling slightly. He had lost his own father too, and he knew how precious and important the little stuff that got left behind was sometimes. He himself still had random trinkets from his parents that blended in with his normal possessions but held a deceptively deep significance behind their innocent, run-of-the-mill façade. His dad's collection of skinny ties from the eighties hung proudly in his closet in the office-turned-bedroom, for example, and some of his mom's sketches that she had done in college hung in a position of great honor on the walls of his room. There were other little things—the baby blanket that his mom had sewed for him was tucked away safely in a box in his closet, and he took it out every once in awhile. If he closed his eyes, sometimes he could imagine that it still smelled like her, and as he tenderly ran his fingers over the strong, sure stitches she had made all those years ago, he could picture her sewing it while she was pregnant with him, biting her lip in the way that she always had when she concentrated.

Grammy had once told him that he bit his lip the exact same as her when when he was concentrating too.

He also had an impressive collection of action figures that he and his dad had collected together, and he still remembered well how upset he'd been when he'd brought one of them to school one day when he was twelve and some of kids had managed to steal it and break it before Trevor came and beat them up. The sting of his parents' death had still been fresh at the time, barely a few months old, and Mike had cried in the boys' bathroom after Trevor had handed him the broken pieces of plastic that he'd retrieved from the miscreants. Trevor had awkwardly patted him on the back, too young and too concerned with his masculinity to understand how to comfort a distraught peer; much less one going through something as traumatic and unrelatable as suddenly becoming an orphan.

It wasn't a happy memory.

And now Mike had essentially done the same thing to Harvey with the 'World's Greatest Lawyer' mug—he had destroyed one of the things that Harvey's dad had given him, and now it couldn't be put back together. Granted, it had been a complete accident, but still…Harvey had known and loved his father for his whole life, and he'd barely known Mike for upwards of 8 months. He wouldn't blame Harvey for being angry; really. It might actually have made him feel better if Harvey would just get mad and yell at Mike a little for it. He wasn't normally such a glutton for punishment, but Harvey's kindness just made him feel worse about the situation.

But at the same time, things had been going really well since he'd moved back in with Harvey after the trial a few months ago, and the last thing he wanted was to rock the boat over something so stupid as his infernal clumsiness. He felt incredibly frustrated with his inability to go more than a few weeks without some sort of catastrophe, and didn't understand how Harvey could be so calm right now.

Indeed, Harvey merely looked a little bewildered at how seriously Mike was taking the incident instead of upset or angry. "I know; we just established that it was an accident. What happened?"

"Nothing. I was washing the dishes, and I turned away to grab the rag to dry off the mug and it just slipped out of my hands and shattered everywhere," Mike confessed.

"Okay," Harvey said slowly. "I agree; that definitely sounds like nothing to me. What am I missing here, Mike?"

"Why aren't you more upset about this?" Mike asked, irritated now with Harvey's inability to understand the gravity of the situation.

"And why are you so upset about this?" Harvey countered, leaning back in his kitchen chair and folding his arms across his chest, his posture relaxed but his gaze scrutinizing Mike as though he were a particularly tricky clause of a patent.

"That was the mug that your dad gave you, Harvey! Your favorite mug!" Mike exclaimed, his voice suddenly rising in frustration. He knew it was probably rude to yell at the man when he'd just broken a gift from his deceased father, but Harvey was being a complete idiot. "Don't you see? He's not just going to pop up and give you a new one to replace that one! It's gone and I broke it!"

Harvey was quiet for a moment, looking like he was turning over what Mike had just said in his mind and trying to analyze its significance. He shifted his gaze to Mike's face and he suddenly looked sad at what he saw there. Mike felt his stomach clench at Harvey's expression—it seemed that Harvey finally understood what Mike had done and was now responding appropriately. He wondered how long it would take for Harvey to get mad and braced himself slightly for the explosion.

"Mike," Harvey said quietly. "I already know which mug it is—I only own one dark blue mug like that."

"But…" Mike said, confused. "But…you're not upset!"

"Your sharp observations never fail to dazzle me," Harvey said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"But…" Mike spluttered, trying to find the words to explain why he was upset and why Harvey should be too.

"But nothing. Mike, it's just a mug. My dad probably didn't pay more than five bucks for it," Harvey said, glancing over at the pile of porcelain that had once proudly spelled out the words 'World's Greatest Lawyer.' "I don't need a mug to remind me that my father was proud of me. Nor do I need one to be reminded of the fact that I'm the world's greatest lawyer. Everyone already knows that."

Mike thought that if that statement wasn't so big-headed, it might have been a bit touching. "You sure you're not mad? Or that you're not going to get mad about it later?"

If it frustrated Harvey that Mike constantly need reinforcement of the fact that Harvey wasn't going to kick him out of the apartment over minor offenses, he did an admirable job of hiding it. "No, I'm not mad, and I won't be mad later," he promised, standing up to get the broom. He began sweeping up the pieces of porcelain.

"Here, let me help—" Mike said, urgently surging to his feet. He swayed slightly and Harvey held up a hand for him to stop.

"Freeze," he said firmly. "Sit back down—you still look a little pale from that cut, and the only thing that will make me mad is if you swoon like a girl and I have to catch you."

"I have never 'swooned like a girl'," Mike huffed defensively, collapsing back into his seat and glaring as Harvey dumped the remains of his mug into the garbage. "Harvey…I've had stuff that belonged to my parents get ruined or destroyed too a couple of times over the past few years, and it sucks," Mike explained seriously. "You can be mad at me for it, you know. I'll understand."

"Mike," Harvey said, opening one of the cabinets. "Look. There are at least ten other mugs in here. I think I'll be okay. I appreciate you taking the sentimental value of the mug into account, but I have plenty of other things from my father—pictures, my watch, some books—it's okay, kid. You dropped a mug, not a newborn baby. Don't be so hard on yourself, okay? The important thing is that you didn't cut yourself badly. That's all that matters. And that you were somehow doing the dishes without being asked, which, frankly is a miracle as far as I'm concerned. Okay?"

Mike nodded, feeling much better but still a little insecure. He supposed Harvey really meant it about it not being a big deal—his guardian could be a bit of a drama queen when he was truly upset, and Mike wasn't getting that vibe right now. Harvey genuinely didn't seem to care that Mike had broken the mug, and he supposed that it was a little ridiculous that he'd been so upset about it and so insistent that Harvey got angry about it.

It would be okay—they'd come a long way already, after all. Had this been a few months prior, Mike would have been a nervous wreck about Harvey punishing him harshly for a minor offense like this. As it was, he had been mad that Harvey hadn't punished him, which he supposed was a good sign in a weird sort of way. But still, they had a ways to go—Mike wondered if he'd ever stop feeling afraid that Harvey would kick him to the curb over some final little last straw, like a shattered mug on the kitchen floor.

Maybe Harvey sensed this lingering uncertainty, because he motioned Mike over by where he stood at the sink. "Get over here, kid," he said, his voice a little gruff, as it sometimes was before he did something that he considered outside of his "I'm-a-badass-lawyer" character.

"Er—okay...did you miss a spot?" Mike asked he stepped over by the sink, feeling steadier on his feet now that he'd sat for awhile. He scanned the floor for remaining bits of glass and wondered if Harvey had called him over to pick up a piece that he'd missed when he was sweeping or something.

"No," Harvey said, and to Mike's great surprise, he opened his arms as if to invite Mike into an embrace.

"Um," Mike said articulately.

"Well, are you going to bring it in or not? I don't know that it'll help, but you look like you need it," Harvey sighed, holding his arms out welcomingly. It was an odd and confusing juxtaposition; the exasperation mixed with blatantly open affection. But, Mike supposed, that was Harvey for you.

"You really are going soft," Mike remarked in amusement, a genuine grin breaking out on his face as Harvey scowled down at him. "I break your mug, and you wind up hugging me for it."

But to his surprise, Harvey made no sarcastic retort when Mike tentatively stepped forward and into the open embrace. He was probably way too old to be accepting comfort like this, but Harvey was right. He'd had a tough day, and it did make him feel better. Plus, he'd missed out on three years of affection since his parents had died—he figured he was entitled to a hug every now and then, right?

"You know I'm proud of you, right?" Harvey asked quietly as they broke apart a few seconds later. "Like I just said before, I have absolutely no doubt that my dad was proud of me. I just want to make sure that you know the same thing is true for you and me."

"Yeah," Mike beamed. "Thanks, Harvey," he said softly. And if there was a strange warmth spreading through his body, well, it probably had nothing to do with the way that Harvey ruffled his hair on his way back to the family room where he had been working before the resounding tinkle of broken glass had echoed through the apartment, or the way that Harvey consistently stepped out of his own comfort zone to reassure and comfort Mike. It was probably just from increased circulation and his body trying to make up from the blood loss he'd sustained when he'd cut his hand.

Probably.

Mike returned the favor a few weeks later by taking a hugestep out of his own comfort zone.

He'd been riding his bike to the library after school, thinking vaguely about all the had transpired the night that he'd dropped the mug, when it caught his eye in the store window.

And after all that had recently happened, he couldn't not go into the store and buy it. It was the perfect gift—now if only he could get over his fear of the occasion and of actually giving Harvey the gift and watching him open it, then it would really be perfect.

Because much to Mike's dismay, one of the worst, most awkward days of the year was drawing near: Father's Day. For the fatherless, it could be a sad, grim holiday; a reminder of what was missing. And for the well-I-kind-of-have-a-father-figure-but-I-don't-kn ow-how-he-feels-about-it-really camp, which Mike fit into flawlessly these days, it was a day of an anxiety-inducing mix of emotions and tumultuous self-doubts…was Harvey expecting a Father's Day card and gift? Would he be weirded out if Mike gave him something for the occasion? What if the gift he had bought was overstepping the unspoken boundaries of their relationship?

But, Mike told himself firmly that morning as he rummaged around the kitchen, he owed it to Harvey to be brave and take this risk. After all, Harvey had put himself in plenty of uncomfortable positions to reassure Mike before, and it was the least that Mike could do to return the favor. Because although Harvey never showed it, Mike figured he must doubt his ability to be a parent somewhat. In fact he knew it—why else was Harvey secretly reading parenting books? Why did he feel the need to make sure that Mike knew he was proud of him? Why did he sometimes have hushed, worried conversations about how he doubted his ability to help Mike recover from his time in foster care with the Jensens with Donna when he thought Mike was out of sight and earshot?

So he could do this, if only for Harvey's sake. Or so he told himself as he laid everything out on a breakfast tray and attempted to arrange all of it into some semblance of an aesthetically pleasing meal. He had just finished arranging the toast and eggs in what he hoped was an artful way when he heard Harvey padding down the hallway.

He froze and forced an expression of calm onto his features as Harvey entered the kitchen.

"I'm going to go shower," he said quickly, and he high-tailed it out of the kitchen and into the bathroom before Harvey could notice the tray.

As he turned the water on and hopped in the shower, he tried not to think about Harvey standing in the kitchen and seeing the breakfast that Mike had made, but his mind couldn't help but project what was probably happening out there.

First Harvey would see the tray sitting neatly on the kitchen table. He'd be confused; Mike was pretty sure that his guardian wasn't aware of what day it was. Harvey had just finished a huge case and he tended to get really zoned out of the real world when he got absorbed in the final days of a trial.

Then he'd notice the simple card that was standing next to the orange juice, and he'd open it and see the brief message Mike had written inside. The message itself wasn't that bad. It was the front of the card that was really incriminating, because it said "Happy Father's Day!" in cheerful blue bubble letters, its message terrifyingly overt and inescapable.

Inside Mike had jotted the following:

Harvey—

Thanks for everything you do for me. Whether you know it or not, you deserve this card more than many of the parents that I've met who have biological children, because you chose to take care of me. Sorry I broke your mug the other day, but like you said, you already have plenty of delusions of grandeur about being a great lawyer to sustain you when it comes to feeling confident in your career path. But I hope that you never doubt that you're doing a good job as a father. If you ever need a reminder, I hope this mug helps.

-Mike

And then the real test: Harvey's eyes would undoubtedly drift to the new white coffee mug that was sitting in the corner of the tray.

The terrifying coffee mug that had been haunting Mike's brain for the past few days as he'd debated whether or not he was really strong enough and brave enough to give it to Harvey.

The coffee mug that had the words 'World's Greatest Dad' proudly emblazoned on it in bold black letters.

By the time that Mike had dried off and dressed, his stomach was tied up in knots. He wondered how Harvey would react. Would he be angry? Confused? Would he think Mike was a sappy idiot? Would he ever actually use the mug?

Mike stepped into the kitchen, his legs feeling slightly shaky as he looked at his guardian with a confusing mixture of hope and extreme trepidation.

"Good morning, Mike. Think it's my turn to shower now," Harvey said casually, standing up from the table, clapping Mike on the shoulder, and disappearing to his bedroom where the master bathroom was.

Mike looked around the kitchen, his heartbeat a little quicker than normal. The mug was nowhere in sight, and he opened the cabinet door with shaking fingers. To his indescribable relief and happiness, the mug, freshly washed and dried, was sitting in the place of honor where the 'World's Greatest Lawyer' mug had sat for ages before it had been broken. The new mug had a post-it with Harvey's handwriting stuck on it.

Feeling slightly giddy, Mike gently pulled the note off and read it.

Thanks for the mug upgrade and the reminder. But if Donna cries when I bring it into the office Monday morning, I hope you know that you're responsible for dealing with her rampant female emotions.

Mike let out a shaky laugh and tucked the post-it into his pocket. He'd put it into the box in his closet that contained the broken action figure and the baby blanket his mom had made when he was born. He got now that the mug was just a mug and it didn't really matter if it broke, but sometimes it was nice to keep a little reminder of the ones you loved close.

And that was the story of how Harvey got a new coffee mug, Mike acquired a newfound confidence in his relationship with his guardian, and the almighty Donna was brought to happy tears over a mere porcelain cup.

So...yeah. Hope you all enjoyed it; let me know what you think :D