A/N: Just a fun little idea I came up with while reading The Civilian's guide to the U. . That's where I found the quote about the Marine Corps Birthday. That is also where I found most of the slang used in this work. I put a short glossary at the end of the fic.
Takes place in my Morgan universe, but can totally stand alone.
Enjoy!
Harm carefully opened the white box, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the cupcake had survived the ride home the previous evening. There was too much judgement from the clerk to make a return trip. He was aware how strange it was for a man in full Naval uniform to request a cupcake donned with the Marine Insignia. But he had a good reason.
He pulled the cupcake from the box and set it on the counter, leaving the deep blue envelop next to it. A smile played at his lips. He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. It was November 10th, the Marine Corps' birthday. It would be the first Mac would be celebrating as a civilian in nearly fifteen years. She'd been out for six months and while he knew she didn't regret her decision to resign her commission to focus on their baby boy, the Marine Corps was the only family and structure she had for a large part of her life. And as the saying goes…there's no such thing as an ex-marine. So it only felt right to mark the occasion. Satisfied with his display, he turned on the coffee maker and went to ready himself for work.
Mac felt Harm get out of bed, but wasn't ready to greet the day herself. Since they'd brought Morgan home, she'd learned these precious moments of solitude may be the only ones she got until Harm returned from work in the evening. She knew if the baby woke while her husband was still home, he would tend to the child until he needed to leave for the office. It was an agreement they came to before Morgan was sleeping through the night. Mac would do the midnight feedings and Harm would take the morning shift. His junior officers thanked her for it. Apparently the Captain could be quite surly when sleep deprived.
She could hear Harm in the shower and Morgan's even breathing over the monitor. If she was lucky, she could sneak in a cup of coffee before she was on Mom duty. Throwing the covers back and donning her robe, she padded into the kitchen.
The cupcake on the counter immediately drew her attention. Processed sugar was practically contraband at their house. That wasn't to say they didn't have any, but Mac was usually the supplier. Whatever this was, was instigated by Harm. When she saw the iconic globe, anchor, and eagle on the top of the blue icing, she smiled. He remembered. She fingered the envelope, carefully tearing it open to reveal a simple birthday card. Harm's familiar scrawl filled the inside.
"November 10, 1775, will always be a Marine's other birthday for one who has earned the right to call anything associated with the Navy (except the corpsman) rude and demeaning names." – Dick Schading, former sergeant, U.S. Marine Corps
Happy Birthday, Jarhead. Do your worst!
-H
Mac chuckled at her husband's challenge. She hung the card on the fridge and carefully put the cupcake back in its box for enjoyment during nap time later in the day. With a cup full of Marine grade coffee, she went in search of her personal Naval punching bag.
"Morning, squid," she drawled, leaning against the door frame as he squared away his uniform.
"Getting right to it?" he laughed. He knew she wouldn't back down from a challenge. She took a sip from her coffee, half shrugging.
"Thanks for the cupcake. Surprised a puke like you could pick out the right insignia," she commented, her dark eyes brimming with mirth. "And don't think buttsharking is going to get you any leniency, Captain."
"Buttsharking?" Harm's eyebrows crawled to his hairline. Not only was she insulting him, she was doing so using Navy slang. "And I would never expect leniency from a Marine," he added. He gave himself one last overlooking in the mirror before stepping up next to her. "But we will have to finish this later," he said, giving her a quick kiss.
"Love you, birdman," she gave him one final dig on his way out the door.
"Love you too, Marine," he chuckled. It was going to be an interesting day.
By the time he got to work, he had an email from his wife. The subject was: Birthday Celebration. Needless to say he was somewhat hesitant to open the message, but he clicked through anyway. He laughed out loud. It was nothing more than a list of insults.
Just a few terms of endearment, squid boy:
Brig Rat
Dipstick
Cretin
Desk Pilot
Troglodyte
Dingbat
Kiwi
Village idiot
Bilge Rat
Ring Knocker
Ground Squirrel
-xo, Mac
He had to hand it to her; she was coming into battle with a full arsenal. He saved the email in his personal folder and went about his day. He'd gotten caught up in administrative paperwork and had almost forgotten about the running game with Mac until his yeoman knocked.
"Enter," he allowed, stowing the last form in front of him.
"I have a message from your wife, sir," the young man's cheeks were a distinct shade of pink and he looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"Well…?" Harm urged, trying to keep the grin off his face. Lord only knows what Mac told him.
"I…Sir…I have to tell you, I am quoting directly here. These are not things I would ever…" the man stammered.
"Just give me the message, Jackson," Harm replied coolly.
"Your, your wife told me to remind you, and I quote 'You are a green gilled, foul smelling, Neolithic swamp creature not even fit to swab the decks of your own Navy's ships, and she'd like to know if you want Thai for dinner,'" the last few words came out in a rush, like the man couldn't wait to end this conversation. Harm fought hard to school his expression, to even look the slightest bit offended by his wife's inane remarks. "I'm sorry, sir," the yeoman added quickly.
"Never marry a marine." Harm grumbled, keeling up his facade "You're dismissed." No sooner than the man scrambled out of his office, did Harm's expression crack, unable to hold in the laughter any longer. He lifted the receiver and dialed his wife's number.
"Hey groundhog," she greeted. "How's Uncle Sam's Canoe Club?"
"Mac…" he wanted to admonish her, but he couldn't stop laughing. Plus this was really all his fault. He knew better than to tell a Marine to do their worst. "My yeoman? Really? I think you traumatized him," his voice went squeaky as he fended off what could only be considered a giggle.
"Tell that yellow bellied swabbie squid to suck it up," she retorted with all the bluster of a seasoned drill instructor.
"God, I love you," he replied.
"Love you too, flying fish head. Thai for dinner?" her voice went so innocent he barely noticed the insult that time.
"Yes, I'll pick it up on my way home. I'll see you then." Harm ended the call. Another knock sounded at the door and he only hoped Mac hadn't sent his yeoman an email, the poor guy might not live through another message delivery.
"Sir?" Petty Officer Coates peered around the door.
"Coates, what can I do for you?" He grinned sitting back in his chair.
"You can tell me why your yeoman looks like he wants to throw up?" She asked, setting a stack of files in front of him.
"He's probably wondering if I am going to call him up on a Captain's Mast for disrespecting a senior officer." Harm laughed, flipping open the top file.
"Did he disrespect you?" Coates eyes went wide, that wasn't like the petty officer.
"Not of his own volition. He got mixed up in a game Mac and I are playing. It's the Marine Corps birthday and to celebrate I am allowing her to insult me as a Naval adversary. He had to pass on a message that was rather explicit, at least by code of conduct standards." Harm explained.
"Aw, you guys are so cute. Weird, but cute," Coates smiled. "You might want to relay the message to Petty Officer Jackson before he turns himself in for something he didn't do," she added.
"Will do," Harm said with a nod, scooping up the files he just signed and returned them to her for processing.
"Tell Mac Happy Birthday for me and give my love to Morgan," she tossed over her shoulder, taking her leave.
"Look, Morgan. Your fighter jock Daddy is home," Mac cooed at the baby in her arms as Harm set the take out on the counter. The six month old giggled, his fist in his mouth. "Let's see if that mediocre training he received at the Small Boat and Barge School helped him order the correct dinner."
"You're not going to let up, are you?" he asked, catching her around the waist and trapping Morgan between them. He first kissed her and then his baby's head.
"Marines aren't quitters. Unlike you lazy boat dwellers," she quipped.
"You have until midnight, Marine." He notes.
"That's six hours and seven minutes. I figured I'd save you the effort of having to count on your fingers. I know math is not a priority at Canoe U, where your primary task is bailing water." She mused. Harm would let her rib him for six more years if it kept her eyes glittering like that. "Hop to, flipper, we're starving." she prodded.
"Aye aye, ma'am," He laughed wholeheartedly and did what he was told.
Glossary of terms:
Bilge Rat – unfortunate sailors who drain and maintain the bilge
Birdman – Pejorative term for airman
Brig Rat – a prisoner or someone who is frequently in trouble
Buttsharking – sucking up
Puke – Pejorative term Marines call members of the Navy
Ring Knocker – Graduate of the Naval Academy who "absentmindedly" tap their ring to be sure it's noticed
Names for non-flying Airmen (various branches)
Desk Pilot
Ground Squirrel
Groundhog
Kiwi
Alternate Names for the Naval Academy/Navy
Small Boat and Barge School
Uncle Sam's Canoe Club
Canoe U