| Subject: Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi! - Part 20/25 |
Author:
Teacup
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Date Posted: 07:24:48 07/20/07 Fri
In reply to:
Teacup (aka Ever-Xmas)
's message, "Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!" on 23:51:19 06/30/07 Sat
Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!
Previously:
Addressing them both, Kelly said with a sly smile, “Well, I’ll let you two get back to … whatever it was you were doing …”
At the end of her suggestion, Kelly moved a step to be out of Harm’s view and winked at Mac. Then she turned to her son, who, without prompting, had become still once again.
“Alright soldier, back to marching off to bed. … Hup, two, three, four, … hup, two, three, four …”
“Good night,” Mac called after them and then closed the door as the sounds of marching became more distant.
Part 20
It was an awkward moment that followed. Harm wanted nothing more than to get back to what they were about to do before the knock on the door. He wanted to close the distance between their lips. If Mac had been his girlfriend, he would simply say, ‘Now, where were we?’ without it really being a question at all. Then he would take her in his arms and kiss her until the reindeer came home.
But given that the status of their relationship was unclear and … precarious at the moment, he didn’t think that would go over too well. Maybe he should just suggest they follow the advice of Mac’s neighbor and cozy up again by the fire.
Harm was afraid that if he blatantly brought up what had almost happened, Mac would again declare the subject off limits for tonight. So, he was trying to come up with a subtle way of recreating the moment.
Mac interrupted his thoughts. “Well, that was fun,” she said with some sarcasm.
“Actually, it was,” said Harm, “… kinda.” It was not as much fun as locking lips with his favorite marine would have been, but it was nice to work together with Mac to help people out.
“Yeah, it was,” Mac conceded, also enjoying how they had operated together.
Having just observed the half asleep boy reminded Mac that it was bedtime for most people. “… It is pretty late. You tired?” she checked with Harm, though she was hoping he would stay up and spend some more time with her.
On the inside, Harm couldn’t help but ask himself, ‘Is she kidding?’ He had a ton of adrenaline in his system tonight from the events of the day. First of all, he’d gotten to fly a jet, something that always gave him a high.
But that was nothing compared to tonight. Kissing Mac like he’d never kissed anyone before, … spending the night at her place, and … almost, almost, almost having Mac kiss him again … but without any mistletoe to excuse it. His mind was on overdrive trying to figure out how to get her to go through with that kiss now that the visitors were gone.
“Not really,” Harm answered, remembering that he needed to tell her that he wasn’t tired.
“Me neither,” declared Mac, also quite full of excitement and energy. She had walked over to the table and started fidgeting with the remaining single chopstick, though she wasn’t aware of what she was doing. Her mind was otherwise occupied with how she, as Kelly had suggested, wanted to continue right where she left off with Harm. … But … the moment had gone.
“So, uh,” Harm began in an effort to get past the slight unease in the air. “… When did you get into baking cookies?”
Mac shrugged. “I do it every now and then. I guess the other day I just felt the need to get into the Christmas spirit. We’ve all been so busy with work and everything. I was driving by the store, taking Bud home because Harriet had the car for some errands. He and I were talking about all the serious stuff from work, and … I just thought that some festivity would be good.”
Mac’s mind flashed back to that car ride.
<<“You know what we need, Bud?”
“No, ma’am.”
“We need a little Christmas.” Mac suddenly turned the car, pulling into the parking lot of a store they were just about to pass.
“Right this very minute?” Bud asked, bracing himself against the car door as they made the sharp turn. The look of surprise on Bud’s face was a classic.
“… Right this very minute,” Mac confirmed.>>
“I hope Harriet was okay with you taking her husband on a detour,” Harm commented.
“She was fine with it,” Mac assured him. “Especially when Bud came home with some new decorations and fun activities to occupy little AJ.” After a moment, she added, “I was going to make a fake gingerbread house as well as the cookies, but I didn’t have time.”
“Fake?” Harm questioned.
“Using graham crackers instead of gingerbread. I got a bunch of candy for decorating it and some marshmallows for snow.”
Harm made an odd face. “Marshmallows are not cold and slippery like snow is,” he pointed out, thinking of his snow descriptors from earlier.
“But they are white and fluffy,” countered Mac. “… Haven’t you ever heard that ‘winter is a marshmallow world?’”
“Sure.” Harm began to sing, “It’s a marshmallow world in the winter, take a ride with your favorite girl.” He paused and then asked, “Or is it a walk?” He couldn’t remember, but then he shrugged and happily declared, “I got to take a ride with my favorite girl today.”
Mac remembered that he had been flying earlier and figured he was referencing the plane. Although she would have thought that a different airplane would have been his ‘favorite,’ … not a random Navy jet.
She joked, “You’ll make Sarah jealous.”
This confused Harm. Mac was speaking of herself in the third person? And why would she be jealous of herself? Was she referring to that whole Mac/Sarah dichotomy they had been discussing earlier?
“Sarah?” he finally repeated.
“Your biplane,” Mac explained, a little perplexed at Harm’s reaction.
‘Oh, that Sarah,’ Harm thought. But he was still confused. Why would his Steerman be envious of Mac? So he asked her, “Why would ‘Sarah’ be jealous?”
“If she heard you saying that your favorite girl was a Navy jet.” Mac was starting to reconsider her theory that Harm had actually hurt his head when he fell on the sidewalk earlier that night … because he currently seemed a little out of it.
But then Harm clarified, “I wasn’t talking about planes, Mac.”
“Oh.” Mac actually looked disappointed at that.
It meant there was another girl in his life? Someone else who he … Wait, … he’d been on a carrier. She didn’t think he would know any females that well out there. That wasn’t even a carrier he had served on in the past. Skates wasn’t there. It was Admiral Boone who rode with him on the way back and went to visit the Wall with him. No girls there. Then Harm had come to the Roberts’ house, and then … he drove her, Sarah MacKenzie, to church, drove her to his apartment, and drove her back here to her own apartment.
She looked up at him, having finally processed all that. “I’m your favorite girl?”
“Of course you are. … You’re my best friend,” he told her with a confident smile.
Her heart fluttered. But it was the term ‘best friend,’ that reminded Mac not to let herself get carried away by his statement.
“So, my ‘favorite girl,’” Harm addressed her, “… how about we work on that graham cracker house now?”
Mac considered his suggestion. She might end up eating more of the candy than decorating with it. She had a sudden craving for chocolate. Maybe it was just the frustration of being so close to this man without being able to have him. She had to indulge in something.
She was still twirling the chopstick in her hand. Suddenly, looking at the stick, Mac was inspired.
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said, with eyes alight.
‘Yes!’ thought Harm, hoping the better idea would involve some more of what they’d shared under the mistletoe earlier. He desperately wanted her to finish what she had started prior to the interruption, when she had brought her mouth so close to his.
“Well, we’ve got graham crackers, chocolate, … a fire,” Mac listed with growing excitement, “and marshmallows for toasting … Let’s make s’mores! … I’ve got skewers in the kitchen.”
That was not exactly what Harm had been hoping for, but it was not a bad thought. The idea of it reminded him of camping as a child. If it were a bunch of boys around a fire tonight, there would be scary ghost stories. Maybe a few classic tales of glories from adventures long, long ago. But this was Christmas, and story-telling should be about the holiday.
Of course, for Harm, he had a story about a Christmas long ago - 1969. It was an adventure story and a scary story, and yes, even a ghost story – for whether or not his dead father had ever actually ‘appeared’ to Harm in the last few years, his father’s past and disappearance had haunted him. Harm Sr.’s spirit was ever present and making itself known in his son’s life. But Harm was not going to dwell on that story now. He had already paid his father homage at the Wall tonight. It was time to focus on the present and future.
A few minutes later, they were again seated by the fire, but this time with all kinds of supplies.
“Are you sure this is safe to do inside?” asked Harm.
“Safer than roasting chestnuts,” Mac assured him. “… Just be careful.” She handed him a skewer.
He took it, and said, “You know, … all this tonight reminds me of a joke I heard once …”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, distributing a marshmallow to each of them.
Harm went straight into his funny story. “… There once was this bird, … a lot like Frosty, … only smarter … and less prone to ‘spazzing out,’ as Bobby would say.”
Harm pushed his marshmallow onto the skewer. “… Anyway, this bird’s name was Chex, and he could sing Christmas carols. His owner had trained Chex to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ when someone lit a match and put it under the bird’s left foot.”
“That sounds kind of cruel,” noted Mac.
“The bird just lifted up his leg … he didn’t actually get burned,” Harm explained. He wished Mac would go along without questioning. This was just a joke after all. “… So when you put a match under his left foot, Chex sang ‘Jingle Bells.’ When you put the lit match under his right foot, Chex would lift up that leg instead, and sing ‘Deck the Halls.’”
“One day,” Harm continued, “the owner was showing these tricks off to some friends, when he got distracted and the match ended right between the bird’s legs.”
“At which point, Chex flew away to animal control and sang a song about pet abuse?” Mac guessed.
“No.”
“He bit his owner?”
“No, … he sang another Christmas carol.” Harm demonstrated, singing, “… Chex’ nuts roasting on an open fire.”
Mac shook her head, smiling, but definitely not laughing at the bad joke. She was pretty sure that birds didn’t even have the referenced external anatomy.
“Hey, come on, that was funny,” Harm insisted, complaining about her lack of reaction.
“Maybe it was the delivery,” she jabbed.
“Well, you kept interrupting,” he complained.
“I’m sure that’s it,” Mac sarcastically agreed. “… But still, … don’t quit your day job.”
Harm chuckled, before declaring, “Nah, I’d never give up the Navy. … Except for something more important, … and there are very few things on that list.”
“You have a list?” Mac questioned.
“Well, … it would have to be for a greater purpose, … for something or someone that meant more to me than the Navy.”
“Like you risked your career to find your father? … Your brother?”
“You risked yours to save your uncle,” Harm reminded her, thinking about when they had first met.
“Yeah,” Mac agreed. Then she reflected, “… At the time, he was the most important person in my life.”
“Has he fallen in favor?” Harm quite seriously asked, wondering if something had happened after Uncle Matt went to Leavenworth for stealing the Declaration of Independence. If she wasn’t mad at him for doing that, despite his good intentions, … what else could her uncle have done to earn her disapproval?
“No,” Mac answered. “… I’d still risk my career for him, my life. … We do that for those we love.”
“Yeah,” Harm agreed. For some reason, images of Mac following him to Russia flooded his mind. He knew he would give up his career and his life for her in a heartbeat.
“And those we feel greatly indebted to,” she added.
Well, she credited her uncle with drying her out, Harm thought. Though he figured she probably didn’t give herself enough credit for that feat.
Mac soon broke him out of his reverie. “You may want to turn your marshmallow there, Harm.”
He hadn’t been paying attention, and only one side of his marshmallow was browned. Harm rotated the skewer, but the melted goo inside wouldn’t hold the marshmallow in place any longer, and the browned, heavy side remained on the bottom.
No matter how much or how fast Harm turned it, the marshmallow slid back into the same position. There was no way to brown the other side. Harm groaned.
“Maybe you should give that one up,” Mac suggested. “It’ll still work for you in your s’more.”
He looked over at her marshmallow. It was perfectly browned all around. “How did you get yours so good?”
Mac shrugged and smiled. “Must be because I’m a Marine, … and we, unlike wimpy squids, can do anything.” She put her s’more together quite efficiently.
“That’s it,” Harm objected, pointing at Mac for emphasis, “no more hanging around Bobby for you.”
But Mac knew Harm was kidding, just as she had been.
Harm proceeded to put his own s’more together. Or attempt to anyhow. He was having trouble.
Mac got a twinkle in her eye. “Harm, … do you need help with that?”
---
A/N: I take no credit for the bird ‘joke.’ I heard it somewhere once, a long time ago; I don’t know its origin.
Hope you enjoyed this part. Five parts to go ...
-- Teacup
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