But they did commit themselves to one of their pictures, which they wanted to get just right, from the angle of their gaze to the position of their hands. The movie “Step Brothers” is serious business, and Harper and Werth wanted to duplicate its movie poster exactly, with Werth as Brennan and Harper as Dale.

“I can see why they took that picture. It so resembles them,” Gio Gonzalez said. “Werth’s definitely like, ‘Don’t touch my drums. I don’t want you around my drums!’

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“And I can see Bryce patting the drums, then asking him, ‘Why are you sweating?’ Then Werth saying, ‘Well, “Cops” was on.’ Yeah, that’s the two right there.”

For those unfamiliar with the film, its gravity and plot are probably best conveyed by the fact that Gonzalez’s synopsis pretty much sums it up. Will Ferrell stars in the story of two childish grown men whose parents marry, forcing them to live together under the same roof. At first, they clash. Then, they bond.

Obviously, some of the more specific plot points do not apply to Werth and Harper. And in fairness, they took the photo not for the sake of analogy, but more because “Step Brothers” happens to be one of the most-quoted movies in Harper’s extensive and frequently utilized movie-quote repertoire. But parallels nevertheless shine through their smiles.

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When Harper first came up, a precocious teenager bound to be one of the most high-profile players of his generation, Werth tested him. Five years later, as Harper enters what might be his final season with Werth as a teammate, they have a unique bond.

“I love him like a brother,” Harper said. “He’s family to me. I look up to him.”

When Harper came up to the majors in 2012, he was 19, the same age Werth was when he attended his first camps with the Baltimore Orioles.

The Orioles had a veteran clubhouse in those days, and Werth can still rattle off the names: Cal Ripken, B.J. Surhoff, Brady Anderson, Mike Mussina, Jimmy Key, Will Clark, and so on.

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“You just prayed that when you walked in there they wouldn’t notice you,” said Werth, who one could easily mistake for a man who has never tried to evade notice.

“But they just wouldn’t let you sneak by. You’d have to stand there and wear it.”

One day, Clark stole a statue Werth kept in his locker — a family heirloom, more than just a trinket. He made Werth play “Hot and cold” until he was close enough to realize the statue was under the pile of bagels on the breakfast table. When Werth tried to extricate the figurine, the veterans all booed him. His germs, of course, were now on every bagel. The rookie knew his place.

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“You’ve got some young kid who comes in, and he’s not saying anything or he’s doing whatever he wants to do, or whatever,” Werth said. “You want to see what these people are made of. At the end of the day, they might be standing there with the season on the line. If they’re going to crack when kind of their family members are giving it to them, how are they going to act in that situation?”

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Harper, Werth said, provided a unique case. The prodigy had never stayed on one team for more than a year or so, not in high school, not as a hired gun for tournament teams, not in college, not in the minors. He had never, Werth observed, had to be accountable for teammates for more than a few months. With the Nationals, he would have to foster long-term respect, “to look these guys in the face tomorrow and the next day” and every day after that. Werth wanted to show him what that meant.

“I don’t think he has too many people that will give him a hard time,” Werth said. “Look around — who’s giving him a hard time?”

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Everyone who was around the Nationals in Harper’s first year or so acknowledges that Werth was hard on Harper. All kinds of stories circulate, some involving Harper and hustle, postgame accountability to the media, or the endorsement deals Harper had young that most baseball players do not even have old.

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Stories like those tend to evolve over the years, but the early Werth-Harper oral history has many volumes. Harper remembered Werth getting on him in those years, and admitted he would “knock him down.” But he also remembers Werth inviting him to dinner later, as if to reach out his hand and pull him to his feet.

“I think you need hard truths. But I hear about guys who just get the hard truth. They don’t get the ‘Hey, let’s go to dinner later,’ or the ‘Hey, good job today,’ ” Harper said. “That’s tough, to only get the hard side and not the ‘I love you, too.’ ”

Over the years, Harper’s profile has grown in proportion to his big league resume. He is 24 years old, married and has an MVP award at home, a grown man by all accounts, a relative veteran in the Nationals’ clubhouse. But he still sometimes follows Werth like a little brother might, tagging along on the way to batting practice, plopping down on the couch next to him, or sitting at his locker to chat with him when he usually avoids sitting at his locker much at all.

Werth and Harper have played pregame catch together for years. This winter, Werth was in Harper’s wedding. When Harper arrived at spring training this year and found himself in a corner locker, he asked the training staff to give it to Werth instead. Harper does not normally defer, but when it comes to Werth, he always does. Once, Harper was explaining how he blocked out all the outside noise and focused on the voices that mattered. He said the only ones that mattered were the family and friends, the kind of people that would be at his dinner table years from now.

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“Well, maybe J-Dub will be there, too,” he added. Whenever he talks about his team, or those who influence him, Harper always mentions “J.”

“That’s everything I want to be. I want to win, I want to be competitive, I want to lead. He does that every single day,” Harper said. “If we have problems, we look to J. If something goes wrong, we look to J.”

Nationals General Manager Mike Rizzo said one of the reasons he signed Werth to that seven-year deal was the influence he could have on young players, whoever they were. Harper was the ultimate test case, an unprecedented prodigy unafraid to speak his mind.

Lately, he has been quieter in the clubhouse than he was before, a little more stoic, a little more businesslike, smiling a little less, cracking jokes a bit less often — more businesslike, in a way. But a quip from Werth can light him back up, and leave the duo to descend into laughter, or a flurry of quotes from one movie or another. Sometimes it’s “The Sandlot.” Sometimes it’s “Dumb and Dumber.” A lot of times, it’s “Step Brothers,” which is fitting, because after five years together, that is almost exactly what they are.