Disclaimer: Don't own'em
A/N: Takes place somewhere in season 7-8. This one's for janlaw. Happy New Year, everyone.
--
A Proper Kiss
"Hey. You got a minute?" Harm asked. Mac looked up from her work to find him standing in her doorway.
Mac grinned. "Of course." She waved him in with her pen.
He stepped into her office.
"Do you have plans for New Year's eve?" He asked casually.
She frowned, confused by the question. "You know I don't. You were in the break room when Harriet asked me the same question."
He grinned. "Just double-checking. I've learned not to make any assumptions when it comes to you."
"It took you this long." She leaned back in her chair, watching him with amusement.
"What can I say," He shrugged, a wide, unrepentant grin firmly in place. "I'm a slow learner."
She laughed, her day brightening after just two minutes talking with him.
"Why are you asking?"
"How about ringing in the New Year with me?" The casualness in his tone seemed a bit forced, she thought. "We could have dinner together. My treat."
"Buying or making?" She arched an eyebrow.
He considered this for a moment.
"How about you pick this time," He offered.
She tapped her pen against the desk blotter. A restaurant with a dance floor would be great. She wondered if she would get a chaste peck or a proper kiss out of him at midnight. Well, if there was a dance floor, she could tilt the odds in favour of a proper kiss, couldn't she? She had just the shoes and dress for the job, too.
"It's too late to make reservations." She pointed out. There were just 10 days to New Year's Eve.
"Leave it to me, Mac." He declared grandly.
"Alright." She shrugged. After all these years, she was used to him pulling rabbits out of hats.
"Great." He gave her his full-blown smile. "I'll pick you up at 1930."
"I'll look forward to it." She replied, knowing that meant 2000 in Rabb time.
He stayed in her office for another 28 seconds, just smiling at her, before reluctantly returning to his own.
It was the best 28 seconds of her day.
--
Mac held the phone in her hand, barely able to even keep her head upright, waiting for Harm to pick up the line. She'd welcomed the sunrise this morning with the most horrendous headache. Then she'd dozed on and off during the day, thinking she'd feel better as soon as the mountain of drugs she'd stuffed down her oesophagus kicked in. But now it was 1500 and she still felt like Harm's meatless meatloaf, left under a heat lamp for three weeks. Her throat was coarse sandpaper. Her eyes were watering and her nose was blocked and runny all at once. She hadn't slept much at all because of a fever that left her alternately sweating and freezing all night and well into the day.
She wanted to cry. This was the worst timing ever for a cold. It was all little AJ's fault. She shouldn't have gone within a ten kilometre radius of him last night. Everyone knows kids who go to daycare are walking Petri dishes.
She sighed. Rationally, she knew she couldn't really blame AJ. He was just a little kid. But dammit. She had so been looking forward to going out with Harm. She really felt they were heading somewhere, and what more wonderful time than the promising eve of a new year to find out exactly where they were headed.
But she sure as hell couldn't go all out tonight, wearing heels that would cut through any red tape Harm may have about progressing their relationship, if she couldn't even get out of bed. She'd be disgusting, all dressed up and looking her best with a bright red nose and glassy eyes. She wouldn't even be able to keep dinner down, let alone follow it up with dancing. And a diseased leper wouldn't want to kiss her at midnight, the way she was looking.
Mac dropped her head back on her pillow and pulled her comforter over her head.
This sucked.
"Hello?" Harm's voice sounded through the headset.
"Arm?" Mac croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Arm, ib's me, Mac."
"Mac?"
"Yeb." She sniffed, and then reached a hand out from under the bed sheets, blindly searching for a tissue to wipe her watering eyes with. She yanked a tissue from the box on the side table to dab at her eyes and loudly blow her nose.
"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly. "You don't sound so good."
Mac rolled her eyes at his inane comment. No shit, Sherlock.
"I'b nob fibe. I'b sick." She groused.
There was a silence on his end.
"Harb?" She pushed herself to a sitting position on the bed.
"Tonight's off then?" He sounded very disappointed to her ears. But then, she'd lost count of how many cold pills and how much cold syrup she'd ingested. Which probably wasn't healthy, come to think of it.
"Dorry." She said, again dabbing at her watering eyes. "I really wad to..."
"Hey, don't worry about it, Mac. Rain check."
"Okay," She responded desolately. Her eyes were getting heavy with sleep. "Sorry." She mumbled.
"Mac," He interrupted firmly. "Rest, okay? And call me if you need anything."
She nodded into the phone before hanging up. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
--
A heavy knocking at her door pulled Mac from her warm, if uncomfortable cocoon of sleep.
"What the hell," She muttered, forcing her eyes open. It took a moment for her internal clock to kick in. It was still New Year's Eve. 1958 EST. She wasn't expecting anyone.
Mac lifted her head to glance through her bedroom door, into her living room. She groaned, and dropped her head back against the pillow.
The knocking persisted.
Mac swung her feet over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up. She thought she might actually be feeling better. She dropped her comforter from around her, but was hit with a blast of chilly air. Quickly, she wrapped the comforter back around her shoulders.
The knocking at her door got louder.
"I'm coming," She muttered – she actually did feel a bit better – and then dragged herself to her door. A look through the peephole revealed Harm.
Mac frowned. She was positive she'd called him to cancel. She opened the door.
"Harm," She said. "I'm sorry. I thought I called to cancel—"
"You did," He cut her off with a grin. He was carrying grocery bags with him. "But I figured since I couldn't buy you dinner, I could at least make you chicken soup."
He entered her apartment and headed straight for the kitchen. "You should get back to bed, Mac," He threw over his shoulder. "You look even worse than you sound."
Mac stared at the empty hallway in front of her for a moment, before closing the door. She glanced at the kitchen doorway, where a warm light was spilling into the living room. She could hear drawers opening and cutlery clinking and grocery bags rustling. She glanced at her bedroom door, dark and stuffy. She thought of the mess of tissues and empty glasses of water and half-full cups of tea.
Mac walked over to her couch in the living room and lay down, covering herself with the comforter. She could hear Harm bustling about in the kitchen. She closed her eyes and just listened until sleep claimed her.
--
"Mac, wake up. Soup's ready."
Mac opened her eyes to find Harm seated on the coffee table, eyeing her with equal parts amusement and worry.
"You're cute when you're sick." He brushed the messy locks of hair away from her face. She sat up, feeling much too sorry for her poor, sick self to worry about her crumpled pyjamas and clammy skin and messed up hair and his teasing. Although, the one lucid part of her warned that a diseased leper still wouldn't want to kiss her.
"Soup?" She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She'd been sleeping for just over an hour. She still couldn't find the energy to wake up.
"Here you go," He handed her a bowl of soup. "There's some crisp baguette if you want any."
"You baked bread?" She asked, taking a spoonful of soup. Wow. That was good. She realized that she hadn't eaten anything all day.
He chuckled. "No, I bought it from the store. How's the soup?"
"Amazing." She tried to smile, but all her effort was going into eating. "Thank you."
"You're also a lot nicer to me when you're sick." He teased, rubbing his thumb along her knee.
"So are you, when I'm sick." She pointed out, finding a little fight in her despite the circumstances.
He grinned, "Never mind. I spoke too soon."
This time, she did manage a smile. Barely. She handed him back the bowl.
"When's the last time you took something?" He asked, taking the bowl from her.
Mac frowned, trying to remember. It was all fuzzy. "Before I called you."
"Where's the cold medicine?"
"Room. Bed side."
"I'll get it." He stood up.
She thankfully remembered what a pigsty her room was at the moment. She grabbed the hem of his shirt in her fist.
"No. I'll get it." She made to stand up, but he placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place.
"I'll get it, Mac." He insisted.
"No, Harm." She stated with as much firmness as she could muster. Which wasn't very much.
"Why not, Mac? Just relax."
"Room's a mess," She said, embarrassed, and followed up with a yawn. She was suddenly finding it hard to stay awake.
He actually laughed. "I'll get the medicine, Mac," He left the room before she could stop him.
She lay back down and closed her eyes, trying not to think about the disgusting mess he was wading into...
"You awake, Marine?" His fingers trailed through her hair.
She blinked open her eyes, frowning in annoyance. He kept waking her up.
"Power down," He chuckled. "You could kill a guy with that look." He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. His other hand offered her two pills. "Here, take these and then you can go back to sleep."
She grudgingly sat up, took the proffered pills and a few sips from the glass of water he handed her, and then lay back down on the couch. He tucked the comforter around her.
"Sleep, Mac." He whispered.
--
Mac woke up to a fire flickering in the fireplace, and a warm light bathing her apartment. She actually felt a whole lot better. That had been some powerful chicken soup. She smiled as she stretched, the comforter pooling around her. Harm was such a good friend.
She frowned; speaking of Harm, where was he?
"How're you feeling?" Harm asked, walking out of her bedroom with a garbage bag in hand. That answered one question. And raised another.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Cleaning up your room."
"Harm," She flushed with embarrassment. "You didn't have to do that. It was such a mess."
"It's nothing, Mac." He dismissed her protests with a shake of his head. "Let me just throw this down the garbage chute." He left her apartment to do just that.
Mac looked around her living room. He'd cleaned up the mess in here, too. She'd have to find a way to make it up to him.
He re-entered her apartment, and went to the kitchen to wash his hands.
"So," He said over the sound of running water from the kitchen faucet. "How're you feeling?"
"Much better, thanks to you and your soup," She answered, straightening the comforter around her. She tried to smooth her hair too, but thought it was a lost cause especially without a mirror.
"My pleasure, Mac." He came back into the living room, and took a seat next to her on the couch.
"I'm sorry I ruined our plans, Harm." She said with genuine regret.
"No problem, Mac. We can reschedule." He assured her, turning slightly to face her. He settled himself in comfortably, one arm draped over the back of the couch.
"But you went through all the trouble of getting reservations on such short notice..."
"Don't worry, Mac." He took her hand in his. This gesture more than his words silenced her.
Maybe it was the cold medicine, maybe it was the chicken soup, or maybe it was the wonderful promise of New Year's Eve. Whatever it was, as Mac looked down at their joined hands, she thought it would be very easy to be honest with him.
"I wanted to go out with you, Harm, to a restaurant with a dance floor. I wanted to see if I could convince you to give me a proper kiss at midnight." She couldn't look at his face as she said this, so she just stared at their hands and held her breath.
He cleared his throat, and tightened his grip ever so lightly on her hand.
"I made reservations at a restaurant with a dance floor four weeks ago," He confessed. "And I wanted to see if I could convince you to let me give you a proper kiss at midnight."
Her grin threatened to split her face in two. She looked at him.
"This is almost better." She made another confession.
"Almost?" He raised a playful eyebrow. He was grinning widely, too.
"Well, I can't feel my nose anymore." She said in a conspiratorial tone. "I think it fell off."
He laughed.
"Besides that little detail," She shrugged, "This is pretty great." She snuggled into his shoulder and sighed with contentment at the soothing scent of his shirt. "You're a good friend, Harmon Rabb."
His fingers played with the ends of her hair. "I don't want to stop at being your friend, Sarah." He whispered.
"Then don't." She lifted her head to look at him.
He was watching her intently.
"It's my New Year's resolution." His eyes didn't move from hers. "What's yours?"
"Convincing you to want more than friendship from me," She replied, searching his face, wishing with all her might that this year she'd get it right, they'd get it right.
He grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with humour. "Well, the New Year hasn't even started yet, and you've already convinced me."
"Have I?" She asked in a hushed voice.
He nodded, lightly touching a finger to her nose. "I'm a sucker for shiny red noses and wrinkled pyjamas."
Mac knew she was red with embarrassment – probably making her already-red nose even redder – but she very admirably fought the urge to hide her face under her comforter.
His smile softened as he gazed down at her. "You're beautiful, Mac, inside out. And I'm thankful for all the years I've known you."
"I treasure every year I've known you, Harm, every moment I've had you as my friend." She ran her fingers along his cheek. "And I'll treasure every moment to come."
"Happy New Year, Mac." He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, his lips tracing a path to her mouth.
"You'll fall sick," She warned, moving away from him. She didn't mention that it was only 2352 and that they still had eight minutes before midnight.
He held her firmly in place, "I don't care," He grinned. "Besides, I made a lot of chicken soup,"
And he gave a proper kiss before she could even respond.