| Subject: Part 2 |
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TT2
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Date Posted: 22:11:46 07/21/02 Sun
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TT2
's message, "Odd Man Out" on 22:05:23 07/21/02 Sun
Pt. 2
********
I knew I had a great idea when I decided to see how this thing would play out. Hell, the super bowl’s not for another two weeks. I could really start to enjoy this.
Of course, Mac’s going to kick my six from here to Louisiana when she finds out her ministrations are, indeed, all for naught. Maybe she could play RIO for me during my mission. Maybe take some Dramamine or something?
I wonder how I can convince the CAG at Pensacola to let a Marine LT Colonel with no flight training play back up to a Naval Aviator. “Please, sir. I really, really like her.”
I need to work on my arguments. I must be losing my touch. Maybe all these close encounters with Mac are affecting my legal abilities. It’s certainly affecting my faculties because in the face of an imminent marine pounding I’m continuing with this little seats-charade. I know I have some sort of giddy grin on my face judging by the way I feel and the odd look Bud just gave me. I can definitely get used to having Mac up close to me.
Twice now in the office. Work’s becoming quite an enjoyable endeavor. She’s right. Why am I unhappy? Thank goodness the Admiral or no one else has caught us together. And thank goodness Singer’s on assignment in New York—she always has that annoying habit of turning up at inopportune, but advantageous (for her), times. She’d have a field day with this.
I hear a door close and catch sight of Mac locking her office. She catches me staring at her and gives me a triumphant smile and sways out of the bullpen, her hips just noticeably swinging with each movement of her long sensual strides.
Hmm. Then again, maybe it’s just me. I strain my head around my desk to watch her leave. Just as she’s about to exit the bullpen she stops and looks at me, the smug smile still in place. She winks at me and walks out.
Oh, marine, you play a fierce game.
********
1150 ZULU
JAG HQ
Falls Church, VA
“You think your green Marine six is going to win this game, Mac? Remember who you’re dealing with here,” he says, cocky as ever. “I’ve got several years of combat experience.”
“So do I,” I point out, thinking of my recent excursion into Indonesia and my tour of duty in Bosnia. He smirks. Damn him. I’m about ready to show him who exactly *he’s* dealing with here. I place my coffee on the counter next to me and lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.
He places his coffee next to mine and leans one arm against the counter, hovering over me. We are in very close quarters. I can smell his aftershave again. I’m tempted to lean in even closer than what we are now and take a long deep breath of that wonderful scent, but damn if he thinks he’s going to intimidate me.
“Face it squid, when it comes to strategic planning I’ve got you covered.”
He leans his other arm against the counter, effectively trapping me against the counter and his body.
“When it comes to maneuvers, jarhead, I can turn and burn with the best of them,” he breathes huskily.
“We’re not talking about joyrides in a tomcat here, Harm,” I point out, taking a deep breath despite myself.
“Maybe we are,” he counters, dipping his head close to mine. We’re just centimeters away from really breaking some military conduct codes. Just as his lips are about to touch mine I turn my head away from him. He sighs and pulls away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling him towards me again.
“I—I—didn’t think you—I mean, I wasn’t sure if—“
“I just want you to know who’s in charge here,” I whisper before planting my lips firmly on his. They’re soft and warm and every bit as wonderful as all those other times I’ve ever experienced them. I wrap my other arm around his neck. Both of his arms wrap around my waist, and now we’re both leaning heavily against the counter—well, Harm’s leaning heavily against me and I’m leaning heavily against the counter. If it wasn’t there I’m sure we’d both fall back onto the floor, not that it would interrupt our current embrace.
I let my hands slip down his shoulders, over his shoulder boards and down to his ribbons and those gold wings. They look so good against his white uniform. In the background something blares against our sweet silence, but I’m not about to let him loose now that I have him to see what it is. If it’s the Admiral or Bud or anybody else they’re just going to have to pull us apart. He starts burning a trail of kisses down my cheek and neck. I turn my head to the side a little to give him better access.
“Sarah,” he whispers. I smile a little before I realize that damn noise is still sounding behind us. Harm regains my full attention when he rips the buttons off the front of my uniform jacket as he removes it.
Wow. I didn’t really think he was the type. No matter. He’s overdressed too. My hands start fumbling with the buttons on his uniform, but I can’t seem to get his uniform off. Damn dress whites are tricky—I forgot the one up by his collar.
Finally. I pull the jacket open and stare at him. Why’s he’s wearing his service whites underneath?
“Harm?”
But I don’t think he hears me. That sound is really loud and piercing now. Is the fire alarm going off? Figures. Well, the building’s just going to have to burn down because I’m not done here.
He tries to pull me to him, but I don’t let him. Not yet. I’m running the show here, dammit.
I’m rewarded with a very cute pout. Screw the service whites. This time I do rip his blouse open, and buttons fly everywhere. Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
I let him pull me to him again, and his lips meet mine hungrily. I close my eyes and just revel in the sensations. Yeah, flyboy, you can’t tell me you’re interested in being just friends. Not after this. I’d like to see you try to go back to “just friends.”
I start leading him back to the bed behind us. Just as the back of my leg hits the footboard my eyes pop open and I’m staring unimpeded at the ceiling.
My alarm clock continues to wail insistently.
My lips still tingle from the intensity of the kiss—of the dream--
Dammit! I ram my fist down on my alarm clock and it goes flying off the nightstand, still blaring.
Great. It’s going to be one of *those* mornings.
***********
1358 ZULU
JAG HQ
Falls Church, VA
“Morning, Mac,” I say pleasantly. I’m glad to see her. I wonder what I can expect from the break room today.
“You look like you had a good night’s sleep,” I comment, taking in her pretty, rosy cheeks and bright brown eyes. I’m not sure, but I think her cheeks get even redder. So does her forehead.
“Uh, yeah, I did, thanks,” she mumbles, fumbling hurriedly for the carafe before I reach for it.
“What’s your secret?” I ask, thinking of my restless night envisioning my favorite marine.
“What? What do you mean?” She glances at me quickly then looks away. Something’s up with her.
“I’d kill for a decent night’s rest.” She must know I’m watching her carefully, because she makes a great show of adding about a ½ cup of sugar to her coffee in effort to avoid eye contact with me. She dips her spoon in about 8 times before she responds.
“Sergei keeping you up?”
“No,” I reply, “Not really. I mean, there’s this thing with INS and getting him settled here in the states.” I sigh. I’m not ready to lose him, but it’s not like he’s going back to Russia. Yet, anyway. If we can’t get this stuff straightened out with INS he might be doing just that.
“I just never really sleep well, you know,” I decide to say. I don’t really want to get into Sergei right now, or the real reasons why I can’t sleep.
“Oh,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. I snicker at her puckered face.
“Too sweet?”
She coughs. “Nagght—“ she clears her throat “—not enough cream.” She reaches for the carton of milk in the fridge but I get there first.
“You don’t mind do you?” I ask watching her fight to keep her gums from pulling away from her teeth.
She shoots me a glare. It’s the first real eye contact we’ve made since I walked into the break room.
I smile at her and poor enough milk to coat the bottom of my cup a half-inch. With the angle I’m pouring at, I also manage to take an inordinate amount of time doing it. As soon as I right the carton she snatches it out of my hand and pours enough of the substance into her coffee cup to slosh a little over the sides.
I can tell from her first sip it’s not enough.
“Here Marine, let me fix you a decent cup of coffee.” I usher her aside. She flashes me another angry glare, but allows me to dump her coffee out into the sink.
“Squids by definition can’t make a ‘decent cup of coffee,’” She snorts.
Sheesh. You offer to do something nice…
Then again, I am stringing her along with this Superbowl thing. Maybe it’s best not to tally up the marks for good deeds just yet.
“Well, what do you propose I do?”
“Stand out of my way, and pass me a coffee filter.”
I do as she asks, and pass her a filter.
“Boy for someone who had such a good night’s sleep you sure act like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
A wave of crimson washes over her, coating her from the neck up.
“You know on second thought, I really need to get started on some of my research.” She slips past me tossing the filter I just gave her onto the counter.
What did I say now?
Women.
*********
1805 ZULU
JAG HQ
Falls Church, VA
Well, I think it’s a safe bet my behavior in the break room has aroused Harm’s concern.
Why’d I have to be so damn jumpy? It’s not like Harm knew about the dream I had this morning. He was just making conversation. Just being Harm. Now I’m acting all weird around him and he’s going to think something’s up. That is not sucking-up-for-Superbowl behavior.
Let’s face it, Marine: hiding out in your office all morning avoiding him isn’t going to quell his suspicions, either.
It’s his fault, though, really. Technically. If you think about it. He’s the one who wanted everyone to play his little game.
And of course I couldn’t refuse, and now everything’s screwed up royally. I’m acting like…like…I don’t know what exactly I’m acting like. Maybe it’s best not to dwell on it.
Kissing him, flirting outrageously, having lusty dreams about my best friend, not that those aren’t something nice to wake up to—except when I realize it is all a dream and I have to go to work to face said friend who, thus far, hasn’t really shown too many inclinations to make those dreams a reality, despite my best efforts.
I heave a sigh. Too bad he couldn’t act more like he did in my dream. Dream Harm was like the Harm that kissed me on the Admiral’s porch. Passionate. Needy. Desperate.
The bed in the break room was a nice touch. Convenient, too. I wonder at the inner workings of my mind sometimes.
I should’ve guessed it was a dream when I was undressing Harm. He was wearing his dress whites and it’s January. Not too mention the service whites underneath, why they were there…I don’t really want to dwell on those two factors, but I can’t stop the mental picture of Harm in his white uniforms with those shiny gold wings.
Some days I can’t wait for summer and it’s not just because of the warmer weather.
I keep expecting Harm to pop in my office at any time. He didn’t ask me to have lunch with him. Maybe, since my door was closed, he thought I didn’t want to be bothered, which, in truth, is generally what it’s supposed to mean, but that’s never meant anything to Harm. Then again, he probably hasn’t figured out what to make of my behavior yet and is lying low.
The door’s open now, and I’m half hoping, half dreading catching the attention of my favorite flyboy.
Sure enough at eight minutes past he comes wandering in from lunch, casting his eyes into my office. I smile at him. Mustn’t scare him away.
He changes direction and leans against my doorjamb.
“Hey Mac.” He nods to the pile of folders—well, the far left pile of folders—on my desk. “Did you get your research done?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” remembering my proclamation to him this morning. I smile again.
“Good.” He must think it’s safe to enter because he leaves the security of the doorjamb and steps into my office.
“Did you get any lunch?”
“Oh, no, I had a package of Twinkies and a soda. I wasn’t really hungry,” I lie. I never miss a meal. At least I don’t substitute the main course with cola and Twinkies.
He doesn’t believe me either.
“You okay?” he asks, taking a seat in the chair across from me. The indication is clear: he’s determined to hear out whatever it is that might be bothering me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he persists, fixing me with a worried stare. God, I love him.
“Yeah, I’m just ready for this week to be over I guess.”
He nods slightly. “Well, one more day.” He pauses then opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he’s about to say is lost when Tiner appears. Harm stands up, and for some reason so do I.
“Ma’am? The admiral would like to see you.”
“Thank you, Tiner.”
I offer another smile in what I hope is an apology and Harm nods, and we both make for the doorway. He pauses to allow me to precede him and as I brush by I slide my hand down his arm and smile at him.
He responds immediately with a soft smile of his own.
I know, through that simple touch, that everything’s okay and we’re back on track.
Though where the track leads is anyone’s guess.
Hopefully to the Superbowl.
Hopefully to something more than that.
********
2115 ZULU
JAG HQ
Falls Church, VA
“What, did the bubbleheads decide they didn’t need you?”
Turner grins. “My legal services were quite appreciated.” He sets down his briefcase and switches his coat to his other arm.
“I bet.”
Mac comes out of her office and heads to the copier, cutting in front of me.
“Excuse me, but I was just getting ready to use that.”
“Sounded to me like you were talking to Sturgis. Hello, Commander,” she greets, ignoring my pointed looks. She hands me the paper I had laid on the glass. “Here.”
“Colonel,” Turner replies.
Mac and I try to jostle for position in front of the copier when she pauses to change documents, but she manages to take advantage of my chivalry—after all I can’t just shove her beside, I am an officer and gentleman--and finally I just give up. She doesn’t look at me, but there’s another smirk gracing her features.
“So, did anyone figure it out?” Turner asks.
“Figure what out?”
“The seats. Anyone figure out where you got them? And did you figure out who you’re taking?” Sturgis glances at Mac and I, smiling expectantly. Mac appears to be avoiding eye contact with either one of us.
“Well, the Colonel had a couple of very persuasive arguments,” I say, watching Mac closely. She stiffens a little and I think I see a faint blush sweep along her cheekbones.
“Did she?” Sturgis looks at Mac suspiciously.
Mac finally looks up and smiles beatifically at Sturgis. “Yes, Commander, I’d like to see you top it.”
“It may not be so hard.”
“Don’t count on it, Sturgis,” I warn.
Mac swivels her head towards me, and smiles. If I didn’t know better I think she is relishing in her earlier behavior.
“It’ll be a tough act to follow.”
Mac grins wider and it’s starting to disarm me a little. “What?”
“So, I’ve won?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sounded like it.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Sturgis interjects, and I’m aware of his eyes following our exchange very closely. I’m also aware he seems amused and not at all surprised at Mac’s apparent victory.
“So…how is it I didn’t win?” Mac sticks her bottom lip out for a moment and I’m entertained by the thought that she’s pouting for my benefit. However, I don’t think I can wheedle a kiss out of her here in the bullpen, and with Sturgis present.
“You didn’t guess who my benefactor was, remember?”
“But I upped Sturgis.”
I cock my head to the side. “That you did, marine.”
“Oh, and what were your arguments?” Sturgis asks Mac.
“Privileged, counselor,” I say.
“That I’m far more enjoyable company than you,” Mac says.
“You wound me, Colonel,” Sturgis replies with mock hurt.
“Sorry,” Mac says not sounding it in the least. If her argument is indeed that she is far more enjoyable company then she’s certainly proved it.
“I see we’re developing a ‘Take no prisoners’ approach to these seats.” Sturgis comments. Mac smiles sweetly. I try to keep a neutral face, but I don’t think I succeed.
“Well, Commander, I take football very seriously.”
“I’ll have to up the ante, seeing as the competition is fierce, but still undecided.” He looks to me for confirmation. I nod, but it’s already pretty much decided in my book.
Brilliant, beautiful marine who keeps me on my toes 1, old friend from the academy whom I will never have romantic feelings for 0.
Mac frowns in annoyance at me, and I find myself hastening to add, “But I’ve already got my ‘vette back, Sturg, so I’m not sure what else you can tempt me with.”
“We’ll see, Harm, we’ll see. I think I can make a pretty good deal.”
Mac smirks. “Well, I hope you’re as persuasive as I am, Commander, because I have no intentions on letting up now that I’m ahead.” She flashes a mischievous smile at me and heads back into her office. I find I’m both thrilled and a little disconcerted.
Mac and I have always enjoyed a good challenge. If this turns out well, I may have to thank the Admiral and Tiner later for their ‘inadvertent’ slip.
If it turns out bad…I wonder if a pissed off, hurt, and disappointed Marine will be the least of my problems.
This time I don’t bother hiding my grin.
*******
Oh dear.
Now why did I go and say that to Harm? I have to admit this little game he has going is fun. A battle of wills. And Harm thinks he’s going to win against a Marine.
Hell, his resolve seems to be weakening already, if his hints are any indication. If all it takes is just a little peck on the cheek…
Don’t even go there, MacKenzie.
Well, if he insists on stringing me along with his decision on the seats, then I’m going to string him along with my…persuasions. They say the chase is half the fun of romance, although technically Harm and I have been engaging in the chase for the past several years, and it has been neither fun, nor has it yielded any romance.
Yet.
It’s at least making work interesting. Hmm. Time to formulate my next plan of attack.
You shouldn’t mess with Marines, Flyboy.
********
“Harm?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you have the Sorenson file?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, it’s right…Yeah, I’m here,” he says into the phone. “It’s good to hear from you, too. Yeah? Send her my love.”
I step into his office, knowing I should leave and give him some privacy, but I need the file.
And I’m nosy.
“No, work’s been pretty busy. Yeah. Yeah.” He laughs then sobers. He tilts his head towards me questioningly.
I quickly point to his desk. “Here?” I mouth. He shakes his head.
“Huh? No, she’s…fine. They’re still in Italy, I believe.”
He must be talking to someone about his parents. Hmm…who knows him that well to ask about his mother? Renee met his mother before. But she’s out of the picture now, so he wouldn’t be talking to her.
“No, no, I’m not…don’t start.” He looks at me again with a peculiar expression. I sift through the files on his desk. He watches me for a moment as if waiting. Finally about four folders in, he points to a file. Sorenson.
Damn.
I force a smile and turn around to head out. He’s still chatting to mystery caller.
“Yeah, I’m kind of looking forward to this weekend, too. It’s been a while. I could use the break and the fresh air.” I slow my steps. “It’s been a while, not since the last time you and I drove up there. Yes, I remember her.” Who? “Is she bringing her friend?” A pause. He laughs. “Right, just the two of us. Nice and cozy.”
Who?! I’m almost to the door. I have to hear how this plays out.
“No. What kind of a surprise?” Pause. “I don’t know. I’m sure she’s—hang on a sec.”
“Was there something else you needed, Mac?”
“Uh, no, no. I think everything’s here.” I am not so low as to listen in on my friend’s conversation. I am not so low as to listen in on my friend’s conversation. I am not—
“Oh. Well, then do you mind shutting the door on your way out?”
“No, of course not.”
I shut it behind me and lean my head against it for a moment. Time to regroup.
TBC in Part 3
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