A/N: This story will have four or five chapters, but I'll post them pretty rapidly. For the purposes of this story, please assume that Harm and Mac got together early in Season 8 of the show, and are now married. Both were transferred out of JAG shortly before they got married, but their 'new' billets are in the same location. At the time of this story, they've been married for a year. As always, your reviews are welcome and appreciated.
Disclaimer: Just checked and nope, still don't own 'em.
The first time Mac and Harm met Matt Ryerson was when they boarded a plane bound for an island paradise. To mark the end of their first year of marriage, the Marine and her husband were heading to Aruba to spend a well-deserved five days away from the pressures and demands of work.
Taking time off for a vacation was a feat they'd both had to work hard to achieve, and they planned to spend every moment of their time away wrapped up in nothing but each other. As Mac put it when they were finally able to synchronize their schedules, Aruba would be the perfect destination for a break – "nothing but sun, surf, sand, sports…"
"Sounds good," Harm had replied, "but are you sure you don't want to consider going somewhere else?"
"Hang on a minute, I hadn't finished listing what we'll be doing in Aruba," Mac cut in with a teasing smile, "where was I? Oh yeah, all those 'S' words – sports, skin, sex – lots and lots of sex..."
The words were barely out of her mouth before Harm was calling up a travel agent to book airline tickets and a room at one of the island's smaller, more intimate resorts.
When they reached their row on the plane, Matt, a balding middle-aged man with blond hair and blue eyes, was ensconced in the aisle seat, wearing a green T-shirt and blue denim shorts.
"Mind if we squeeze past you?" Harm enquired politely, and Matt smilingly obliged, easing his considerable bulk from his seat to let Harm and Mac through to the window and middle seats.
They had barely settled in when Matt spoke up.
"Hi there," he said, sticking out a hand. "How are you doing? I'm Matt."
Harm and Mac politely introduced themselves and made small talk with Matt until the safety briefing began.
When the checks and formalities were over and the plane was rising gracefully into the skies, Mac turned to Harm, leaning against him and linking an arm through his. "Can you believe it's been a year already?"
Harm smiled, intertwining their fingers. "Still feels like yesterday."
Both fell into a comfortable silence, reminiscing on their wedding day – a simple, stylish affair at a small neighborhood chapel – and the whirlwind year that had followed. With each of them beginning new assignments shortly before the wedding, they'd struggled to make time for each other amidst the challenges of work. They had fought many times, over ridiculously trivial things as well as serious issues, but they'd always managed to muddle their way through their problems, learning more about each other along the way. And they'd both had fun in their year together – more fun, they often admitted to each other, than they'd had in years.
Harm sighed, and Mac looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "That was a very deep sigh for a man who's going away on vacation."
Harm shook his head. "No, I was just thinking," he said slowly, "that we should have done this marriage thing a long time ago."
"I agree," Mac responded, squeezing his arm with a wistful smile, "but what matters is that we're together now, and hopefully with many more years to look forward to."
Harm lowered his head to Mac's, and they were just about to kiss when Matt, who had been sitting in silence beside them, cleared his throat and spoke up.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt you two in a private moment, but does either of you remember what the pilot said about the temperature in Aruba?"
"I think he said 86," Mac replied helpfully, "warm and sunny."
"86!" Matt exclaimed. "That's perfect. I grew up in Africa, you know. My parents were missionaries in Kenya, and when I returned to the States with them, I was seven years old. We moved straight from the tropics to Vermont, and I can tell you both, I thought I was going to die that first winter. I had gotten so used to the constant sunshine… but I soon found out that winter has its upside… I'll never forget making my first snowman with my new best friend, Chris…."
And so it began. Matt went on and on, regaling Harm and Mac with tales of his childhood years. As interesting as some of the stories were, Harm and Mac soon started to wish he would just stop talking. He didn't though, not even when Mac started to fall asleep; and not even when Harm cracked open a book.
When their plane landed in Aruba, Mac and Harm were not the least bit sorry to say goodbye to their newfound friend. Their relief was short-lived however, when they arrived at their resort and lifted their luggage out of the trunk of their cab. They were paying the driver when they saw another cab drive up – one with Matt waving happily at them from the back seat.
"Oh hey, look who's here," Matt exclaimed, jumping out, "I didn't know we were staying at the same place – we could've shared a cab!"
"Or not," Harm muttered under his breath.
Mac turned her head to glare at him briefly before turning towards Matt with a warm smile of acknowledgment. "Maybe we'll bump into each other while we're here," she called out to Matt. They exchanged waves before separating.
The couple checked into their room, which was furnished simply but beautifully, and had a gloriously scenic view of the beach and ocean. With the discipline that had become second nature, they swiftly unpacked their belongings, freshened up and changed their clothes. Then Harm stretched out on the bed, pulling Mac down with him. They lay facing the ceiling, hands linked, heads touching.
They both sighed contentedly in unison, and then laughed.
"This is the life," Harm said. "Just the two of us. No unexpected phone calls, no case files, no interruptions. And thankfully, no Matt Ryerson to talk our ears off."
Mac gave him a light, playful punch in his side. "That's not very nice, Harm."
"Come on Mac, admit it, he was a gigantic pain in the you-know-what."
Mac wrinkled her nose. "Okay, so he was a little over the top. But I can't help but like the guy – he's so cheerful… and he reminds me of Uncle Matt."
"The only thing that guy has in common with your uncle is his first name," Harm scoffed.
Mac laughed. "I wasn't referring to his personality – he and Uncle Matt are like chalk and cheese in that area. It's the eyes. There's a certain… kindness in his eyes."
"Well, kind eyes or not," Harm asserted, "I hope he enjoys his vacation, and lets us enjoy ours – in peace."
"Enough about Matt," Mac said, lowering her voice to a silky whisper, "so… now that we're here, what would you like to do first?"
Harm pretended to consider. "Well, we could go for a walk on the beach, or go and explore the town, maybe grab something to eat…."
"Or," Mac interrupted, climbing over him, "we could hang out here for a while…." She leaned over him, placed her lips against his, and whispered against them, "…and start this vacation off right."
"I have to say I like that idea," Harm said, smiling against his wife's lips before capturing them in a long, leisurely kiss.
Harm and Mac ended up spending the entire afternoon in their room, before realizing that they were starving. After a shower, they decided to go out for dinner at one of the resort's restaurants. Harm looked relaxed and comfortable in slacks and a white shirt. Mac wore a long, strapless dress in navy blue, with gold sandals and accessories. Her hair was pinned up, and she was wearing light make-up.
"Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?" Harm asked her, his hand stroking her back as they walked into the Asian fusion restaurant.
Mac smiled. "Only about a hundred times, but who's counting? You look pretty good yourself." She tightened the arm she had slung around his waist – it seemed like they hadn't been able to stop touching each other since they arrived in Aruba.
They had barely sat down at their table and opened their menus when they heard a familiar voice.