Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!

Previously:

"You may want to turn your marshmallow there, Harm."

He hadn't been paying attention, and only one side of his marshmallow was browned. Harm rotated the skewer, but the melted goo inside wouldn't hold the marshmallow in place any longer, and the browned, heavy side remained on the bottom.

No matter how much or how fast Harm turned it, the marshmallow slid back into the same position. There was no way to brown the other side. Harm groaned.

"Maybe you should give that one up," Mac suggested. "It'll still work for you in your s'more."

He looked over at her marshmallow. It was perfectly browned all around. "How did you get yours so good?"

Mac shrugged and smiled. "Must be because I'm a Marine, … and we, unlike wimpy squids, can do anything." She put her s'more together quite efficiently.

"That's it," Harm objected, pointing at Mac for emphasis, "no more hanging around Bobby for you."

But Mac knew Harm was kidding, just as she had been.

Harm proceeded to put his own s'more together. Or attempt to anyhow. He was having trouble.

Mac got a twinkle in her eye. "Harm, … do you need help with that?"

Part 21

"I got it," he insisted.

Harm kept the skewer with the drooping marshmallow in his left hand, leaving him to put the rest together with only his right. He laid out half a cracker and added a layer of chocolate pieces. Then he managed, with difficulty, to get the marshmallow off the skewer.

He leaned the stick against the fireplace and lifted up the graham cracker to put the marshmallow on it, however the gooey insides had oozed out and stuck to his finger. No matter how hard he tried, each time he lifted his hand, the marshmallow remained glued to him, … stretching, but not breaking. It just wouldn't stay on the cracker. It drooped and lengthened, but it wouldn't let go of his finger.

Mac decided to be merciful. She put her own s'more down, picked up the other half of Harm's graham cracker to go on top, and successfully smashed it down, allowing Harm to remove his hand, and grab the s'more as a whole.

Mac had gotten some of the sticky, oozing marshmallow on her own hand and naturally started licking it off.

Harm was trying to manage his awkward 'sandwich,' attempting to figure out the best way to attack it, when he caught view of what Mac was doing. He stopped and stared at her maneuvering her tongue over one finger, then taking another inside her mouth to thoroughly get the stickiness off.

Mac was not thinking about what she was doing, but suddenly she realized Harm was staring at her. "What?" she asked.

"Just … enjoying the view," he admitted.

This confused Mac. She looked down at herself. Were her pajamas open or something? Nope.

Harm took that as his opportunity to cover up the fact that watching Mac was turning him on. It wasn't fair that she could do that to him without even trying. "Made you look," he joked.

"Not funny," said Mac.

Harm laughed anyhow and then bit into his snack. Unfortunately, the cracker broke with the pressure, and he almost lost the whole thing. Only his quick reflexes kept it from falling to the floor. Still, he looked rather amusing with the pieces cupped in his hands.

"But that's pretty funny!" It was Mac's turn to snicker now.

When Harm had swallowed his bite and deposited the rest on a paper towel, he conceded, "Obviously, I'm just an unskilled sailor."

Mac became serious. "You know that's not really true." Teasing was one thing, but she didn't want to get carried away with it.

"Yeah," Harm smiled at her. "… Thanks for defending me before." He couldn't forget how she had told Bobby that Harm was the bravest person she knew. The thing was - he wasn't so brave. Not about everything.

"I've always got your back," Mac assured him. "Sorry about Bobby though."

"It's not your fault," Harm dismissed it. "… The kid speaks what's on his mind."

"Kind of refreshing in a way," Mac admitted.

Harm raised his eyebrows. "Oh? You want me to tell you when you have a bad hair-do?" he asked, remembering Bobby's comment to her.

Mac paused, before answering, "… If it's true." Then making a face, she asked, "… Was it really a bad hairstyle?"

Harm chuckled at her sudden insecurity. "No, not at all. … But, … I do like it better how you have it now," he said with sudden softness. "It's more … natural."

He started to lift his hand to her, as if to stroke her hair.

"Oh, no you don't," Mac stopped him. "Not with those sticky, marshmallow fingers," she scolded him.

"That was this hand," he defended himself, raising the other one.

"Oh." Mac now cursed herself for stopping him. … She so longed for the contact. "Well," she decided, "we should clean that sticky one up."

Foreseeing the need for paper towel, Mac had brought a bunch of it into the room with them. She picked up a bottle of water from the coffee table and used it to wet some of the towels. Then she took Harm's hand in hers and started to wipe him clean.

She didn't know why she was doing it. He wasn't a kid; he could clean himself. It was just … she wanted to touch him.

Harm was surprised that Mac was cleaning his hand as if he was a child. … She did have great maternal instincts, he thought. Of course, he'd prefer different female instincts kicking in for Mac when it came to him. He wouldn't have minded her opting to clean his fingers off the same way she'd cleaned her own, … by licking them.

No, … it was good she wasn't doing that, because Harm would have lost all control. He was nearly losing it as it was with just her touching his hand. … Oh, he needed to get his hormones under control.

Meanwhile, Mac was embarrassed by her need to touch him, and to avoid Harm calling her on the fact that he didn't need the personal service, she started talking.

"Can you imagine just blurting things out the way Bobby does?" she asked. "What if we did that kind of thing?"

Harm was quick to participate in Mac's new conversation in order to get his mind on other things as well. "You mean like walking up to Sturgis and telling him he needs to loosen up … or one of these days he's going to alienate everyone?"

"Leave Sturgis alone," Mac admonished. "He's your friend. … I was thinking more like, … what if Tiner walked up to Coates and told her outright that he liked her. What do you think would happen?"

Harm didn't understand why it was so bold to say you liked someone. If you were telling them you disliked them, things might be interesting. "She'd say thank you?"

"No," Mac realized Harm didn't understand how she had meant it. "I mean really 'likes' her," she clarified.

"Does he?" asked Harm.

"Ohhh yeah," Mac answered, grinning. She balled up the paper towels that she had been using. "You should have seen him at work today, … totally smitten."

Harm laughed a bit. "Well, knowing Tiner, … he just may blurt it out … by accident. Put him under the right kind of pressure and his thoughts just come out. Besides, don't you think Coates picked up on it anyhow?"

"… Yeah, I'm sure she suspects it," Mac agreed while putting the towels in a little trash bag to free her hands. "But unless a woman hears the words, … it doesn't mean much," she said.

"Why not?"

"… Because women don't like to be mind readers. We like confirmation, … because if the man keeps quiet … then all we know is that he's not willing to do anything about his feelings." Mac stared at the fire. "… He's not serious."

"Maybe he's just scared," said Harm, looking intently at Mac.

She returned her gaze to him, wondering if there was something more he was trying to tell her. Seeking safety though, she gently pointed out, "Well, that's the whole point of this 'what if' scenario, isn't it? What if people weren't afraid of being direct?"

Harm was getting warm, thinking about his own fear of opening up, so he decided to shift this conversation a little. Only half-joking, he asked, "You mean like, … what would happen if someone told the Admiral outright that his girlfriend is a walking hazard to society?"

"She's not that bad," Mac told him.

"Mac, … how well do you know her? She's got a death wish, I think. … Really, … she almost killed herself and me along with her when we went flying in Sarah."

"… And that makes flying with her different than flying with you, how?" Mac asked, referring to the fact that he'd almost gotten her killed nearly every time she got on a plane he was piloting.

Harm made a face at that, partly with offense, partly with guilt.

Mac relented. "I'm kidding, Harm." Well, sort of. "Alright, so Meredith's got some issues with thinking she's capable of more that she actually is. The Admiral must have realized this by now," she pointed out.

"I think he's in denial," Harm said. "… So how do you think he'd react if someone told him?"

Mac pursed her lips for less than a second before answering, "Rip them a new one for daring to disrespect him … and her, slam his door. … But then he'd seriously consider the risks of being involved with someone like her. Later he'd apologize to whoever had talked with him. … He's kind of like … a toasted marshmallow," she mused. "Hard and crispy on the outside, but soft on the inside."

Harm wasn't sure he liked that imagery, but it was an interesting comparison.

A second later Mac continued the game. "Okay, I've got one. … What would Petty Officer Nast, at the front gate do if Bud gave in to his curiosity and asked if Nast's lazy eye is actually a high tech prosthetic, implanted with special codes for detecting and identifying potential threats to our security?"

"Sort of an instant 'naughty or nice' list?" Harm interpreted with humor.

"Something like that."

"Well, I think if Bud were to ask Nast directly, the petty officer would do the same thing we all do when Bud asks ridiculous questions. Answer honestly within the rules of this universe and roll … well, in his case, maybe just his good eye."

"You're horrible," Mac reacted, playfully pushing Harm.

"I know, … I failed miserably at toasting my marshmallow," Harm deliberately changed the context of her comment. "Let me try again," he insisted. "… I will not have the Navy so dishonored."

"If you think you can handle it." Mac handed him a new marshmallow and twisted herself to comfortably watch him.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Supervising."

"You're not going to have another one?" he asked.

"In a minute," she answered.

Harm started toasting his second marshmallow for the evening, and they sat in silence for a bit.

Mac eventually broke the stillness. "Hey Harm, …"

"Yeah?"

"If we were to turn this 'what if' game around … to what you would do … if … someone said something overly direct to you …"

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TBC …

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A/N: One of them does start to take courage in the next part on approaching the 'L' issue.

(That doesn't stand for 'licking,' despite the part above. Also doesn't stand for 'lords a leaping,' … though that could be an interesting conversation. Not 'Little Town of Bethlehem' either. And I'm sure you're relieved to know that it does not stand for a matter of 'law.')

What do you think, so far?