A/N: This story takes place during Tribunal. I'm sorry I haven't been able to update much to provide some reading material while most everyone is stuck in their houses, but I am still working. And it's been busier than ever! Hopefully, I will get a chance to write and post some other updates this weekend.

Brain Food

Mac arrives at Harm's apartment with her travel bag and a freshly pressed uniform in her hands. He answers the door, and ever the gentleman, takes both the uniform and the bag from her. He hangs her uniform on the hook next to the door, and sets her luggage under it.

The way that man fills out a uniform is sexy enough. However, the khaki pants that still seem to mold to his perfect six, and his black button down shirt with the top button undone revealing just the tiniest hint of chest hair, is pretty irresistible too.

She tries hard not to keep her eyes glued to said six as he walks back towards the kitchen remarking, "I cooked a little salmon and vegetables, brain food."

Mac looks at the glass table, adorned with flowers, and a couple of votive candle lights. Not quite the way Harm normally sets the table, but she knows he isn't expecting anyone else tonight, so it must be for her behalf. Whatever the reasoning, she isn't going to question him on it. She inquires, "Whoa, this is nice, can I help?"

Harm tosses a little oil into the veggies, "Nope, I've got everything covered."

He walks over and set the bowl on the table, mixing it up, and dishing it out for her with a couple of wooden spoons.

Mac looks down at her plate, "Hey Harm, you got any nuts?"

Harm drops one of the spoons on the floor at her inquiry. He isn't quite sure what she is asking THAT question for. Not that he wouldn't like to skip dinner, and their flight, and just move to the bedroom, but they are supposed to be issuing spotting for one of the most important cases of their careers. Granted, they have definitely become closer again since Mic and Renee departed from their lives. Their flirting has returned to its normal double meanings, the sidelong glances are there any time they don't think the other is looking, and the temperature in this room just increased to a level that makes Harm wonder if he remembered to turn the oven off. The only thing he can mumble is, "Huh?"

Mac chuckles at his discomfiture. She laughs as she places a napkin in her lap, "Nuts, Harm. You know the shaved almonds you put with green beans, or the pecans and walnuts you toss in a salad, or the peanuts you snack on the plane with. They are another brain food. What did you think I was talking about?"

Harm blushes furiously as he stammers, "Umm nothing, I'll see if I have some." He stands up and knocks the other wooden spoon on the floor, muttering an expletive as he picks both spoons off the floor on his way to the kitchen.

He rinses the spoons off in the sink, and verifies that he did in fact turn the oven off. He takes a moment to try and ease the red splotches that have rose from his chest up to his neck, and fumbles around in various cupboards until he finds a package of unsalted almonds. He walks back to the table, places both clean spoons back in the salad, and tosses the nuts at Mac hitting her square in the chest.

She replies with an "oof," but all Harm notices is the way her hand is resting on the package between her very ample breasts.

The blush again starts creeping up his cheeks, as she opens the package and dumps several nuts into her salad, because he can't remove his eyes from her bosom. The horizontal striped shirt she is wearing emphasizes them exquisitely, making her look about two cup size bigger, and she didn't need any enhancement in the first place. Yes, her uniform normally squishes them in fairly well, but any man would be blind not to notice that they are a perfect pair.

He forces himself to look at her eyes, and clears his throat, "So, what do you think the Admiral's argument is going to be?"

Mac noticed that his eyes seemed to linger a moment on her cleavage, but she wasn't going to stop him if he wanted to look. Hell, she wouldn't even tease him about it right now, it's about time that he started appreciating her feminine attributes. But as usual, he had to pay attention at a time they couldn't do anything about it. She sets the bag of almonds off to the side, getting back to the purpose of the evening. Unconsciously licking her lips, she states, "Well, I think the first issue is can the President even hold a military tribunal?"

Harm helps himself to a plate of the salad, without the nuts, his own are hurting enough at the moment, watching her run the tip of her tongue over her already inviting lips. He replies, "Yes, he can. During World War II, six German saboteurs were tried and hanged at a tribunal. The Supreme Court upheld it."

Mac won't admit it, but she loves arguing the law with Harm. Intellectually, they are very evenly matched. They work very well together when they are on the same side, but she gets more of a thrill when they oppose each other. It's akin to verbal foreplay. If she can't experience the real thing, at least she has this. Playing devil's advocate for a moment, she points out, "But during the Civil War the Supreme Court criticized military tribunals."

Harm points out, "That's because they included U.S. citizens. I think the President took the curse off this thing, Mac, when he excluded U.S. Citizens at tribunals. These terrorists are fair game.

Mac argues as she spears a cucumber, "You may have convinced yourself of that, Harm but that's got to be their opening salvo."

Harm would like to discharge some of his own artillery right now, or at least release just one of the weapons in his arsenal that is currently straining against his too tight pants. He should have thought to put a tablecloth on the table, because she can see straight through the glass. If Mac were to glance down, she would certainly notice him saluting her right now. He can only hope that the positioning of his plate is enough of an obstruction. He replies, "I'm going to pass on the jurisdiction line of attack. My responsibility."

Mac furrows her brows slightly, and gets that cute little crease right between them. She slightly protests, "Um, excuse me, but who made you first chair?"

Harm gives her a flyboy grin, and nearly pokes himself in the chest with the salad on the end of his fork. She really makes it hard for him to argue with her when she gives him that coy little smile of hers. She definitely knows which buttons of his to push, but he isn't giving in this time. He proclaims, "The admiral mentioned my name first."

Mac's eyes widen, and she matches his cute little grin with one of her own, showing off the most adorable dimples as she challenges, "So?"

Harm drops his fork on his plate, not willing to outright let her win, but offering a chance for her to. He relents, "All right, all right, I'll tell you what. We'll flip for it."

Harm tosses the coin up in the air, and it rolls under the table. They both simultaneously crouch down to look at the outcome, and end up bumping their foreheads together. Harm places just the tips of his fingers on her upper arm, and quietly asks, "I'm sorry, you okay?"

Just that tiny, simple touch sends a shiver straight through her. Mac sighs deeply, "Yeah, but I'm second chair."

Harm chuckles, but doesn't feel like he has really won anything. He says, "I'll be gentle."

Mac can't resist the sass that comes out of her, "Don't be gentle, be good."

That is all the invitation he needs as he wraps his hand around the back of her neck and pulls her to him, his lips seeking to devour hers.

Harm leans backwards, using his free hand to push his chair away from the table. Their lips break contact for a second, and Mac leans forward to seek them back out, just as Harm did when she started to pull away on the Admiral's porch. She needs to keep kissing him as much as she needs air to breathe, and before they know it he is sprawled completely on his back with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and she is straddling his hips with her upper body laying flush against his, engaging his tongue with hers in an erotic dance.

Their tongues continue to duel, and hands are roaming previously denied territories. When Harm's fingers trail up her shirt with the lightest touch of his fingertips to undo the clasp of her bra, she moans, "Harm, we can't. We have a plane to catch."

He pulls her against him, not caring that his rock-hard arousal is pressing into her stomach. He sighs, deeply, "I know, Mac."

He attempts to sit up and he is thankful that instead of pulling away, she curls her legs around his waist, and sits in his lap, both of them trying to regulate their breathing. Only a part of him was surprised at how quickly things heated up between them, and damn her internal clock for reminding them how little time they had. He presses his forehead to hers lightly, in case either of them has a bump or bruise from colliding earlier, and says, "When we get back from the carrier, we are going to have the talk that has been long overdue. We have a bunch of things we need to discuss. In case things go crazy over there, I want you to know now that I love you." He emphasizes his words, engaging her in a slow kiss, keeping his promise to be gentle. It is not meant to rekindle the fire already threatening to erupt between them, but slow enough so that he can try and convey all the love he feels for her.

When they break apart, she smiles, "I know Harm, I love you too. And after we have that talk, I still expect you to be good."

Harm abruptly stands up, making Mac throw her head back in laughter with her legs and arms completely wrapped around him. He gives her a flyboy grin, "Don't worry, it won't be good, it will be spectacular! In case you didn't know, nuts, spinach, and fatty fishes aren't only brain food, they also increase your libido. So, dinner at my place when we get back? I'll prepare the same foods I did tonight."

Mac laughs, "You're on, Flyboy!"