Title: Strangers

Summary: Mac and Harm meet in a bar the night before the Rose Garden Ceremony in 'We the People'

Notes: Takes place the night before 'We the People'. A few things are different though: 1) Diane's resemblance to Mac is non-existent in this, or she never existed. Take your pick. 2) Let's pretend that Season 2 Catherine Bell had season 9-10 hair.

More Notes: This was another one that was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got away from me. I watched the first episode of Grey's Anatomy yesterday, which was the inspiration for this. And it's been a VERY boring day at work, so... why not? The second part is going to be very smutty, and should be up tomorrow or Sunday at the latest.

Part One

I notice him the second he walks in to the smoky bar. To be fair, everyone does. He's the kind of man who is impossible not to notice. He's tall – at least six feet. And he's wearing a navy suit that accentuates broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. And he's quite possibly the most beautiful man I've ever seen in real life. I realize I've been caught staring when his eyes meet mine, and I blush and turn back to my tonic water. I take a delicate sip, wishing it was something a little stronger.

"Mind if I join you?"

I look up to find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome hovering at the empty seat next to mine. He's even more beautiful up close. His eyes are striking and he has a smile that I imagine is impossible to say no to. "Not at all." I slide my handbag closer to me, and he slides onto the vinyl stool.

He signals to the bartender, and then turns to me. He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it. A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, and I realize he's nervous. I hold out my hand. "I'm Sarah."

He shakes it and lets out a breath. "Harm." He smiles at me again, and I want to slide off the barstool and melt in a puddle of goo on the floor of this bar. "I'm sorry in advance for the old line, but what's a woman like you doing in a place like this?"

I snort, and his smile widens. "I could say the same about you." I give him a slow once over, and work my way back up to his face. "I'm not the one sitting here in $2,000 Berluti loafers."

His eyes bulge, and he makes a sound that seems to be a cross between a cough and a huff. "Can I tell you a secret?" I nod, but before he can make his confession, the bartender comes up and sets a paper coaster in front of him.

"What can I get for you?"

"Johnny Walker Blue. Neat, please."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's an expensive drink."

"Isn't that what someone wearing $2,000 shoes should order?" I laugh and he grins. "It's been a very long week, and I feel like treating myself."

I nod, knowing the feeling well. "What's made the week long?" I glance down at his left hand, and I'm relieved that there isn't a ring, or even a faint white circle where a ring would have normally been. "Work? Family?"

He looks at me, and I feel a tiny thrill when I notice his eyes drop down to my own hand. "Work," he finally says. "I have a pretty important event tomorrow, and the lead up this week has just been exhausting."

I nod, understanding that too. "What do you do," I ask. He shrugs, and it almost looks like the question has embarrassed him. "Actually, let me guess." He looks amused and nods. I look him over again, my eyes lingering on the immaculate suit, gold cufflinks, and expensive shoes. "I'm going to guess politician."

He snorts, and then we both look up when the drink is set on the coaster in front of him. "Thank you," he says, and then turns back to me. "Definitely not."

I bite my bottom lip. "A CEO? A lawyer at a big firm?"

He shakes his head. "No." We stare at each other for a moment, and then he takes pity on me. "I am a lawyer, but I'm not a high paid one. I'm a lowly public servant." He grins and gestures at the shoes. "My stepfather is a CEO, and he and I wear the same size. So, every time my mother feels like his shoes are looking a little too worn, she sends me the rejects." I smile, feeling a little more at ease and he sips his drink. "So, what do you do?"

"Funny enough, I'm also a lawyer."

"Not that funny," he says. "And despite the hole in the wall appearance of this place, pretty much everyone in here is a lawyer or a paralegal, or clerks for a judge."

I scan the room, and look back at him. "Really?"

He nods. "Yeah. Drinks and networking events always lead back to this place, and now I think at least 90% of their clientele are in our line of work." He sips the drink again, and watching him drink is almost intoxicating. His eyes close and he runs his tongue over his lips, and I feel a little warmer than I did ten minutes ago. "But I haven't seen you here before, so I assume you're new to the area."

I shrug. "I'm visiting for work." He nods, and we both fall silent for a moment. I'm not used to this – to talking to strange men at bars, to fantasizing about his tongue running over me, to… to any of this. I down the rest of my tonic and I stand. "I should probably go."

He stands abruptly, and it catches me off guard. I take a step back, forgetting that the bar area is a step up from the main floor, and start to fall backwards. But his reflexes are impressive, and he reaches for me, and manages to keep me from falling.

"Thanks," I mumble. My face feels hot, and I know I have got to get out of here before I embarrass myself any further.

"You're welcome," he says. His hands fall from my waist and he swallows. "Do you have to go? I'm sorry if I said something…" I shake my head and he trails off.

"No, you haven't done anything. But I have a really important meeting tomorrow, and I should probably get a good night's sleep."

"One more drink," he says. "Please?"

His eyes are imploring, and he's impossible to resist. "Okay," I say. "One more drink."

He buys me another tonic water, and eventually buys himself a beer. After those are gone, we both switch to plain water, and after the second glass of water he suggests moving to a table, and I can't bring myself to say no. I don't want to say no. We've been talking for over two hours, and it's been pleasant. I can tell he doesn't want to talk about work, which is a huge relief because my work is the last thing I want to think about right now. Instead, we talk about movies and music. He scribbles a list of restaurants to check out on the back of a napkin, and then scribbles his phone number underneath – just in case I'd like company for the rest of my time here.

He settles up his tab, and I carry our drinks to a dark table in the back, the space only lit by votives. He slides into the seat across from me, and shoves the receipt in his pocket. "Thanks for the drinks," I say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Eight dollars for two glasses of tonic water. I think that's the cheapest drink I've ever bought a woman."

I laugh, and shrug. "Gotta keep a clear head for tomorrow," I say. I figure there's no need to divulge my secrets to this man I don't know. He nods and turns his glass in circles in its pool of condensation. "Do you do this often?" I regret the question as soon as I've said it, and he cocks his head to the side and studies me. I lick my lips and swallow. "Buy strange women drinks, I mean."

"Honestly, no." He seems shy; embarrassed even. And I feel like I shouldn't believe him. I mean, look at him. Based on his looks, I'd imagine him going home with a different woman every night. But I don't get that vibe from him, and I nod. "I mean, I meet women for drinks. I feel like my friends are constantly setting me up with someone, but… I don't know. It's usually one drink and then I call it a night."

I'm pleased by this – that he enjoyed my company enough not to want the night to end so quickly. "So, why did you break the one drink rule this time?"

His eyes are intense and He shifts in his chair. His ankle brushes mine under the table, and I feel a powerful jolt of arousal. I don't make any move to pull back, and neither does he. "Something about you made me want to get to know you better."

He shifts a little more, and now our legs are touching, and I feel emboldened enough to sandwich his leg between mine, and then I take a sip of the water. What am I doing? I keep telling myself that I don't do this – that I don't flirt with strange men in bars, but there is just something about this man that I can't resist. He reaches across the table and picks up my left hand. He runs his finger over the base of my ring finger, and the action makes me swallow. He's smart. It's too dark over here to see any kind of white line, so he's checking for the indention that comes after wearing a ring for a long time. When he doesn't feel what he's checking for, her sets my hand down, but keeps it covered with his.

"Any reason we shouldn't get to know each other better?"

I tun my hand under his and our fingers twine together. "No." He lets out a breath, and I'm relieved that he looks as nervous as I feel.

God, I can't remember the last time I felt anything close to this. My body is practically vibrating with want and need. I have a feeling how this night is going to end – how I'd like it to end. And a part of me is ready to just get the show on the road and invite him back to my hotel room. But I can't bring myself to do it. I need to make sure that we're on the same page before I proposition the most beautiful man I've ever met. I need a distraction. And that's when I see it – an old dart board, not far from our table.

Perfect. I stand up and move to the dart board. I can feel his eyes on me, and I'm thrilled that I wore the jeans that make my ass look amazing. I turn to smile and him and look from him to the dart board. "Do you play?"

He joins me, and shrugs. "A little."

I get the feeling he's being modest and I can't help but smile. I gather up the darts and hold them out to him. "Let's play," I say.

He nods and steps even closer to me. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I shiver. "What are the stakes?"

I think for a moment and then smile. "I win, and you buy me dinner."

He takes the darts from me, and lowers his head so that his lips are close to my ear. "And if I win, you buy me breakfast."

I take a deep breath and nod. "Let's play."

I easily win the first one. He's good, but I'm better. "Best two out of three?" He says, and goes to gather the darts. I go first, and do as well as I did the first time. I'm feeling a little smug, and he rolls his eyes, but I can see that he's enjoying this. I think he likes that I'm challenging. But my smugness is premature, because he wins the second game.

But before either of us can gather the darts for our third game, a group of much younger men come up and hovers. It's obvious they want the board, and will stand there until we're done. I don't want an audience, and I don't think he does either. I look up at him and wrinkle my nose. "Want to get out of here?"

He lets out a breath and nods. He gestures to the board and smiles at the newcomers. "It's all yours, guys." And then he grabs his discarded suit jacket, and I grab my purse and we head outside, his hand on the small of my back burning though my clothes. "What do you want for dinner," he asks.

I want this - I want him, and I know that I won't regret what we're about to do, so I decide to just go for it. I gesture at my hotel and take the plunge. "Want to order room service?"

"Yes."

End Part One