Title: The Confession
Summary: Takes place about two months prior to "Harm the Flirt". Mac confesses her secret to Sturgis, and decides to tell Harm herself instead of trusting Sturgis to keep her secret safe.
Note: This is a little sexy at the end, but I don't think it's anything too explicit.
Sturgis: There seems to be a certain tension with you two.
Mac: Some.
Sturgis: A lot.
Mac: Look, you're missing the point, Sturgis.
Sturgis: Come on, Mac.
Mac: I've never slept with him.
Sturgis: Is that the problem?
Mac: There is no problem!
Sturgis: Then why don't you just get over it and move on?
Mac: It wouldn't work.
Sturgis: Why?
Mac: Because I'm in love with him. Did I say that? You have to keep that to yourself.
Sturgis: Okay.
Mac: I mean it, Sturgis.
Sturgis: So do I.
-Capital Crime; Season 7
Oh my god.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
Oh. My. God.
I can't believe I just told Sturgis that I'm in love with Harm. Letting it slip out to anyone would have been bad enough – but letting it slip out to one of Harm's oldest friends feels catastrophic.
He promised he wouldn't say anything, but in four months I've known Sturgis, he's proven to be somewhat of a meddling busybody and I know he and Harm frequently drink together. Can I really trust him to keep my secret? Maybe I'm being a pessimist, but I don't think I can.
I drop my head to my desk and take a deep breath. And then another one. I can't believe I let that slip to Sturgis. There is absolutely no way he's going to be able to keep my secret. No way. He's going to continue badgering Harm about me, and it's going to slip out. The thought of Harm learning my secret period makes me want to throw up. But the thought of Harm learning about it from anyone other than me makes me want to request a transfer to… I don't know… whatever base is geographically farthest from DC.
I have to tell him myself. I have to. Even if he rejects me, I need him to hear it from me. I can't stomach the thought of Sturgis telling him. I can just picture it. And Harm will tell him that he doesn't feel the same way, and they'll make an agreement not to say anything to me – they'll both just look at me with pity in their eyes and I can't stand thinking about that. If our relationship is going to change, I want to be the one who changes it. I need to be the one to tell him how I feel.
I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell him. A part of him has to know already. I mean. After everything that happened on the ferry and at my engagement party, he has to know that there's more than just friendship between us. At least there is for me. And while I know it would be so easy to just stick to the status quo, and keep our friendship as it's always been, I don't want that. I don't want to just be his friend. And as long as we're in this perpetual limbo, I'm always going to hold onto a little bit of hope that something will happen between us one day. I need to know if that's an option. And if it isn't an option I need to move on. And I mean really move on. I need to date and find someone I want to build a life with; not just settle for someone simply because they want me.
Two days later a familiar Lexus SUV is parked in the spot next to mine, and I feel so much relief and anxiety at the same time. He's already settled in his office, and I pause in his doorway and smile. "Hey, you're back."
He looks up at me and smiles that smile that always makes me a little breathless. "I'm back. And I'm very relieved that you and Sturgis managed not to kill each other while I was gone."
I feel the heat creeping up my face and force myself to look away from him. "Yeah, well…" I trail off and shrug. "We got off to a bumpy start, but I think we were working pretty well together by the end of the case."
"Oh yeah?"
His tone is strange, and a rush goes through me. He almost sounds jealous. Is that even possible? "Yeah. I mean, he's not you, but he's okay for a Navy man." Harm rolls his eyes, but is unable to hide his smile. I make my way into his office and lean against one of the bookcases. I'm close enough to him that he should be able to smell my perfume - the perfume I know that he really likes - and I try to look casual. Well, as casual as possible when my palms are sweaty and my heart is beating at what has to be an unsafe speed. "Are you busy tonight?" I'm a little embarrassed at how artless that was, but oh well. I've made it through the first item on the 'tell Harm how you feel' list.
He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "I'm free."
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Okay. Now I've made it through the second item. I can do this.
He looks confused, but slowly nods. "Yeah, okay."
I let out a breath and I realize that it's been such a long time since we've really spent time together socially. I can't remember the last time we had a dinner that wasn't a work dinner, or spent time together without all of our JAG colleagues present, and I'm guessing he can't either. But his face… god, that beautiful face… he looks surprised, and maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see, but I think he looks a little bit hopeful. "Okay," I repeat. He grins and my heart feels like it may burst from my chest.
"Want me to pick you up?"
I bite my lip and shrug. "Sure, if you want."
He rolls his eyes and his smile widens. "I'll pick you up. Is seven okay?"
"Seven is good. I'll see you then." I try to smile, and hope it doesn't come across as a grimace and turn to go back to my own office. I shut the door behind me and collapse onto my desk chair, thankful for the privacy of the closed door and drawn blinds. I'm having dinner with Harm. Dinner. With. Harm. We're having dinner, and I'm finally going to tell him how I feel. Now I just have to figure out what on earth to wear.
For the first time in years, Harm is punctual when picking me up. This man is always on time professionally. Always. But he is never, ever on time socially, and when he knocks on my door at 6:58 it throws me off kilter. I give myself one final look in the mirror, and one last spritz of the orange blossom perfume, and then I make my way to the door.
He looks so unbelievably good. He's wearing pale gray chinos that fit perfectly, a navy sports coat, and a pale blue button-down shirt, with the top few buttons undone. I want to take his hand, drag him into my bedroom and undo the rest of those buttons.
"Hey."
I realize I've been staring and I feel my face heat. "Hey. You're early."
He shrugs and leans against the door frame. "You look like you're ready." His eyes move over me. "You look nice."
I look nice? I had been going for more than nice. I thought the form fitting black sweater dress and tall suede boots would warrant more than nice. I feel my confidence take a slight dive and I swallow. "Thanks. We should go, right?"
He watches me for a moment, and then nods. "Yeah, let's go."
He waits while I grab my coat and lock up my apartment and then we make our way to his SUV. He opens my door, before hurrying around to the driver side. The seats are warm, and I realize he must have driven over here with the seat warmers on. The thoughtfulness touches me, and I try to force myself to relax. I try to convince myself that there isn't anything wrong with 'nice'. Especially since he doesn't know what I'm going to tell him tonight. As friends – and colleagues – saying that I look nice is a completely appropriate compliment. I tell myself that over and over, until I hear him say my name.
"Sorry, what?"
It's dark in the car, but I can see his smile and my heart beats a little faster. "You look beautiful."
I had managed to snag a reservation at one of my favorite restaurants in the city. The food is incredible, and the atmosphere is dark and sexy. Harm and I have been here a few times over the years – usually when one of us is taking the other out for a birthday or some other special occasion. He was surprised when I had told him where were going. He had asked if we were celebrating something. I wanted to tell him that I hoped we would have something to celebrate by the time we left, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. But now we are here, and we are being shown to an intimate booth in the back of the restaurant, and I know I won't be able to keep my mouth shut for much longer. Not when he slides into the booth across from me, and the candle light lighting his beautiful face.
We're not there long before a waiter comes by to take drink orders and tell us the specials. I know I ordered water – because what else would I drink at a place like this. But if he had quizzed me on the specials, I wouldn't have even gotten one question correct. I think I remember him saying something about beets, but that's about it. I scanned the menu out of habit, and pushed it aside. I looked up and noticed Harm was watching me.
"Let me guess, the New York Strip?" I blush and nod, and his grin widens. "One of these days you're going to have to try something else when we come here."
His teasing is familiar – he says the same thing every single time we come here – and I can't help but smile and play along. "Are you getting the anchovy salmon?" He nods, his grin widening even more. "Well, I'll try something different when you do."
He makes a tsking sound and leans back. "When you find the perfect dish, there is no need to keep looking."
"Oh yeah? How can you be so sure the New York strip isn't the perfect dish?"
He straightens, and he looks at me in a way that I haven't seen since the night of my engagement party, and my heartbeat quickens again in anticipation of his words. "Because I know perfection when I see it."
That's not the way this bit we do is supposed to go. He's supposed to say something about how a dish that can clog your arteries could never be the perfect dish, and I'm supposed to roll my eyes and order the steak and ask the waiter to have the chef baste it with extra garlic butter. But his comment – and the way he's looking at me have me at a loss for words. When the waiter comes by, Harm orders his dinner, his eyes never leaving my face. When it's my turn, I can't make the words come out. He cocks his head to the side, and then looks up at the waiter.
"She'll have the New York strip. Medium rare. And can the chef baste it with extra butter before bringing it out?" Our young waiter nods and takes the menus before turning and heading to the kitchen. Harm turns his attention back to me. "Is everything okay, Mac? You don't seem like yourself tonight."
I open my mouth to tell him that I need to talk to him about something, but I can't make the words come out. If I'm being honest with myself, I don't know how he's going to react. There is a small part of me that think he's going to like what I have to say. But I've been hurt so many times by so many men – including this one - that most of me is absolutely terrified to tell him. I don't want to see the affection in his eyes turn to pity as he tells me that he does love me, but only as a friend.
And I realize that I can't do it. I can't tell him. I can't ruin our friendship with my secret. Having him as my friend will be enough. It'll have to be.
The evening hasn't gone as I've planned, but that doesn't mean that it hasn't been a good one. Once I decided not to tell him how felt, I was able to tamp down the anxiety and enjoy an evening with my friend. We talked about his case, and the case I worked on with Sturgis. Harm told me about Sturgis' phone calls to him, and his complaints that I was trying to solve the case with psychic visions, and came up with an elaborate plot to screw with Sturgis and make him believe my abilities extended far further than they actually did. We talked about Trish, and Frank, and Sarah and Sergei. We talked about Chloe and uncle Matt. Harm even confided in me about Annie Pendry and her recent remarriage, and the hysterical phone call he had received from Josh.
The longer we sat there, the more I regretted chickening out of telling him. If I told him, and if he felt the same way, we could have nights like this all the time. Maybe it wasn't too late to tell him. Yes, it was nearly 11:00pm, and we had sat here for nearly four hours talking about anything and everything, but that doesn't mean that I can't actually still say what I intended to say. He's currently telling me a story about little AJ and their adventure at an indoor play place a few weekends ago, when I open my mouth to interrupt him.
But I'm stopped by voices. Not Harm's. And not a voice in my head. But soft voices and laughter, coming from the open door a few feet from our table.
"Man, I'd love to. But I can't leave till my last table is done. At this point they need to get a fucking room somewhere."
My eyes widen and I look up at Harm. The voice belongs to our waiter. A quick scan of the restaurant reveals that we're the only ones left, so I know he's talking about us.
The person he's speaking to laughs. His voice is lower than our waiters, but I hear the word hotel, and my blush deepens. I look down at my plate; absolutely mortified that my feelings for Harm are so goddamned obvious to even our waiter.
"Mac." I keep my gaze on my plate, and he says my name again. His voice is more insistent the second time and I reluctantly look up.
"Yeah?"
I feel my heart beat faster again. He's looking at me like he did at my engagement party. Like he did on the ferry before everything got so fucked up.
"Why did you invite me to dinner tonight?"
His face is serious. He sounds determined. And his eyes… I take a breath when I realize that his eyes look hopeful, and I realize he wants to hear it. Part of me is annoyed that he's not saying it first, but if I'm being honest with myself, I know that he has tried. He tried before Renee's father died, he tried on the Guadalcanal. I think he wanted to try before the JAGathon. He's tried. And now it's my turn. I hesitate for just a moment, and then I reach across the table and touch his hand.
"Want to come back to my place? We can talk there."
His face relaxes, and he smiles one of those glorious smiles. He then winks at me and raises a hand in the air. "Excuse me," he calls out. He sounds like he's screaming in the quiet restaurant, and I see our waiter emerge from the doorway with a guilty expression on his face. "We'd love to get a room if you want to bring us our check."
The waiter turns bright red and hurries to the computer to print out the bill. He brings it to us a moment later, and Harm hands him a credit card without looking at the total, and turns his attention back to me, and our touching hands. He brings the card and the receipt back a moment later, and tries to stammer out an apology, but Harm waves him off. He shoves the credit card back into his wallet, and bites back a grin as he adds a tip and signs the receipt. The tip is generous, and I raise an eyebrow.
Harm shrugs and folds the receipt before shoving it in his pocket. "Mac, you're touching my hand and inviting me back to your place. Hell, I might come back tomorrow and offer him a new car." I blush and he stands. "Come on. Let's go."
The ride back to my place is more or less silent, and I imagine we're both lost in our own thoughts. But it's not long before he pulls into an empty space behind my Corvette and we both head up the pathway. When we're inside, he silently helps me with my coat, and then slips out of his own. He hangs both in the coat closet, and the rush I get from such a domestic gesture is unbelievable.
Then he turns to me, and I swallow.
"Why did you invite me to dinner?" There is an intensity in his voice that wasn't there the first time.
"I need to tell you about something that happened while you were gone. Something that happened with Sturgis."
All of the color drains from his face and he backs away from me. "No." He shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. "No, Mac. No. Look, Sturgis is a nice guy. He's a good guy. I've known him for nearly twenty years. But you two are all wrong for each other, and if you invited me out to tell me that something happened between the two of you, well, I refuse to accept that."
My eyes widen in surprise, and I step closer to him. "Harm, no."
"I can't believe this is happening." He runs a hand through his hair and begins to pace. "I wasn't even gone for a week, and he swoops in and takes you away from me." He looks up and shakes his head. "I'm not going through this again, Mac. He won't make you happy, and I'm not going to stand by while you get sucked into a relationship with someone that is so completely wrong for you."
"Harm." I say his name again, louder this time. He looks at me, and I'm taken aback by his expression. He had looked so happy when we had left the restaurant, and now he looked crushed. The thought of me being with another man crushed him. I hate to admit that his obvious pain gave me the confidence I needed, but it did. I reach for him and put my hands on his chest. He starts to back away again, and I grab onto the front of his shirt. "While you were gone, I was arguing with Sturgis. About you." My tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, and I let out a breath. "And while we were arguing it slipped out that I have feelings for you." The fight visibly left him at my words, and I let go of his shirt. I swallow and try to smooth out the wrinkles left by my grip. "I made him promise not to tell you," I say softly. "But then I realized that I didn't know if I could trust him to keep my secret. So, I decided to tell you myself."
"You still have feelings for me?"
His voice is low and thick, and makes me shiver. I nod. "Of course, I do. I always have."
"Mac…"
But before I can take a moment to marvel in how fucking good my name sounds when he says it with that voice, he's pulling me against him, and his mouth is on mine, and I'm melting into him. He pulls back and I whimper. One hand strokes my head before tangling in my hair, and the other runs over my jaw. He moves his thumb over my bottom lip and I moan at his touch.
"You are so beautiful."
"So are you."
He smiles and then he's kissing me again, and I don't want him to ever stop. When he does, I whimper. But the whimpers turn to moans as his lips move over my jaw and then he's sucking gently on the base of my throat. I know he's going to leave a mark, but I don't care. Not even a little bit. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of his tongue moving over my skin for one more moment, and then I move my hands to his waist and tug his shirt free, and then start on the buttons.
He pulls away again and his eyes meet mine. "Are you sure?"
I nod. "I've never been surer of anything in my life."
He makes a noise that sounds like a groan and his hands are on me again. But this time he's lifting me up and sitting me on my kitchen counter. My skirt moves up my thighs as he gently parts my legs, and his hands move over the now bared skin. His eyes meet mine again, and neither of us say anything as his hand moves up my inner thigh, and his finger teases the edge of the satin panties I'm wearing. "Tell me what you want."
His hand moves again, teasing me, and his fingers lightly brush over the silky material. I gasp and arch, wanting him to do so much more than tease. "Touch me, Harm. Please."
He lowers his head and his mouth takes mine and swallows my moan as he slides a finger inside me.
JJJ
Harm comes with his eyes closed, and I love that I now know that about him. And I really love that he pushed me over the edge three times before I learned this. He's as generous in bed as I always imagined he would be, but now it's his turn, and I love watching him lose control.
After a few minutes his breathing returns to normal and he opens his eyes. He gives me a lazy smile, and I lean forward and kiss him. "Hey."
"Hi." He reaches up and runs a finger over my nipple. His smile widens as my body instinctively responds to him. "I have to admit, I was never a fan of being on the bottom. But you're making me realize how wrong I've been."
"I like hearing you admit being wrong about something."
He rolls his eyes and I laugh. "Let me get rid of this condom, and then we can figure out more things I've been wrong about."
I lift off of him, and he moves out of bed and disappears into the ensuite bathroom. I collapse against a pillow and close my eyes while I wait for him to return. He comes back a few minutes later, and I roll onto my side to take him in. He's so beautiful. And he's mine.
He's mine.
He slides back into the bed and pulls me to him. He kisses my forehead and then moves his fingers over my bare hip. "So, how should we thank Sturgis?" I stiffen and I know he feels the change in my body because his hand drops away. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want to tell people about us. Not yet."
He frowns and sits up. "Why not?"
I shrug. "I just… Harm, they've all been gossiping about us for years. I know for a fact that Carolyn thinks we've been doing this every time were out on assignment. I just… I don't want to deal with the questions and the looks we'll get every time someone walks into a room and finds us alone."
"I don't want to hide this." He toys with a strand of my hair before tucking it behind my ear.
"Just for a little while. Please."
His eyes meet mine and he nods. "Okay. Just for a little while."
I relax, and tuck myself into his side. This moment is perfect. I mean, sure, I haven't told him that I'm in love with him yet, and it's going to be hard to keep this a secret from our friends and coworkers. But after six years of waiting and missed opportunities and other lovers, we're finally together. And that's really all I need for now.
The End.