A/N: These little chapters (and there may only be two of them), are from things I wrote while working on Delicate. This was part of a potential ending before the story changed into something more involved, but it could still have happened—it just didn't fit in well with the actual body of the story. You'll have to forgive me for this one—it really has no literary value. I was just amusing myself!

A/N2: Well, I decided it would just be this one outtake. :)

Delicate Outtake: Chicken

The scene: Mac and Harm are together after Mac's confrontation with Sadik, the discovery of her pregnancy, and their return to Harm's apartment that morning.

Mac lay stretched out beside Harm. She was exhausted; so was he for that matter, but there had been a question she had wanted to ask ever since they had 'reconnected' after a five-month hiatus from each other. She didn't know why she hadn't mentioned it long before this, but here, in the morning quiet of Harm's bedroom, her curiosity would not be denied.

"Harm?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to awaken him if he'd already drifted off.

"Yeah, Mac?" His answer came quickly, and she was relieved she hadn't disturbed him.

"How did you end up in that…that chicken bar?"

"Chicken bar?" He sounded confused.

"You know…where we met before we, ah, before we first…you know…"

"Did the deed?" Harm now sounded amused.

"Ah…"

"Knocked boots? Oh, wait, we weren't in our working uniforms…"

"Harm…"

"Did the horizontal mambo?"

"Jeez, Harm…"

"You know, speaking of…we should go dancing sometime…"

"Haaarm!"

"What? You like dancing…"

"Ugh, Harm, just answer the question."

"What was the question again?"

Lord, the man could be frustrating. "The bar. With the chickens. The John Wayne pictures. The bad Conway Twitty."

"Ohhhhh, you mean the bar we met at before we had sex."

Mac blushed. Damn him. "Yes, Harm. How did you end up there?"

"End up where, Mac?"

Arrrrghhhhhhh! "The. Chicken. Bar!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was thinking about sex…"

"I'm warning you, squid…the bar. Now."

Harm looked thoughtful. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mac. I don't think they're open right now."

"Forget it Harm. Just forget it." But then she heard him laughing. And laughing. Then groaning. Apparently laughing caused his injuries a little pain. Served him right.

"No, no, Mac. You wanna know how I ended up at Rooster's?"

"How…why…"

"Well, I drove…at least I did that night…"

"Harm…"

"Nah, I found it a few weeks before we met there."

"And you kept coming back? I gotta say, Harm, that place doesn't really seem like you."

"What do you mean? I like John Wayne…and they've got great fried chicken."

"Fried chicken."

"Yeah, fried chicken."

"You. Fried chicken."

"Yup."

Mac rolled his way and raised herself up as best she could. Harm was the picture of innocence, looking every bit like a guy who loved his chicken. Well, two could play at this game…

She grinned slyly up at him. "Wow! that's great! We should get take out there—nothing like a big bucket of fried chicken. Dibs on the drumsticks. Tonight? It's not that far from you—we could pick it up and head back here—or maybe we could just eat it right there. Ooooh, I can just taste it—I hope they have extra crispy-that's the best—ohhhhh, the juices running down your chin—that's how you know it's good. Whaddya say, Harm? Rooster's?" Her grin turned impish as she looked expectantly at him. "I suspect you'll be a breast man."

Harm just stared at her, a look of horror and a bit of disgust on his face. She giggled. "I thought so."

He snorted. They were quiet for a bit.

"Harm?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"I really do like fried chicken."

"Maaaac…that's worse than dead cow."

"Oh, undoubtedly, but you love me anyway. So, we will be back at Rooster's sometime—I mean, that's where this all started."

"Oh, it's been going on a lot longer than that, sweet thing," Harm said, the smile audible in his voice. He ran his fingers through her silky hair and yawned. "Now, let's get some sleep. Bud and Harriet are going to bring us food to eat later today, and tomorrow we're getting on a plane to San Diego. We'll need to keep our strength up."

"Yes, mom." They lay in silence for a while before Mac shifted and looked at him. "Knocked boots, Harm? The 'horizontal' mambo?'

He looked sheepish. "Well, you knew what I meant…"

She decided to mess with him a little. "Harm?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"It was really more like churning butter."

"What?"

"Aggressive cuddling?"

"Um, Mac…"

"Extreme flirting? Joint session of Congress—Maybe that, I mean, we are in Washington…"

"Are you done, Mac?"

"No, I don't think so…organ grinding? You are a musician…

"Porking? No that won't work…you're a vegetarian…there goes all the beef ones…all the ones mentioning meat…"

"Mac! Okay! I get your point!"

She could see he was blushing. Ha, never mess with a marine! "You've had enough, Harm?"

"Yes, vulgar one. You certainly drove that point home."

Mac looked over at him, eyes narrowing. Did he just—suddenly they both burst out laughing. It felt good, given the seriousness of everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. Well, it felt good until both of their various aches and pains cried out in protest—and then, of course, their collective moans started them laughing again…it was a vicious cycle.

Finally, they settled down again. The quiet of the morning surrounded them and Mac felt her eyelids growing heavy.

"Mac?" Harm whispered oh-so-softly.

Mac's eyes opened wide again. "Yeah, Harm?"

"It was the big chicken. With the eyepatch. I thought it was funny as hell."

Oh, so that was the reason. She gave a light chuckle. "I see."

There were a few more seconds of silence.

"Um, Mac?"

"Yes, Harm?"

"About the other...thing...why don't we just call it what it is?"

"And what is it?"

"Making love."

She smiled. That sounded good to her.

End