Of Basketball and Love.

"What the hell happened?" And why was he at my doorstep at midnight on a Saturday looking like he'd been run over by a car or lost a wrestling match with a tiger?

"Don't ask." Harm hobbles into my apartment without me letting him in. In fact he pushes past me and stumbles onto my sofa. He's hurt and bleeding.

"You can't just waddle into my house at this hour and not offer an explanation." I cast over my shoulder as I head to the bathroom to procure a washcloth and my first aid kit. When I return he has his injured leg propped up on my coffee table and his left arm raised up with a throw pillow. I hadn't noticed that injury, the one where his shoulder is clearly dislocated.

Wait. Maybe he was run over by a car? I cringe at that thought and if it wasn't because I knew he was playing ball with Sturgis - this would be the fourth time in so many weeks that I patch him up - I might have been more concerned.

"Basketball got a bit...heated."

"Heated?" I'll say.

He's a proper mess. I am mildly annoyed that he'd get blood on the fabric and much more concerned at the gash on his shin, the massive bruise on his cheek and the trickle of dried blood running from a cut on his forehead.

Harm winces when I dabble disinfectant on his forehead and bats away my hand when the strong smelling chemical stings his skin. "Jesus, Mac that hurts!"

Ugh men. I roll my eyes at him, bring his hand down and resume cleaning the wound. "Stop being a baby."

"I'm not a baby! Owww!!!" He yelps which is an audible sentiment to the contrary. Harm is biting his lower lip, wincing and miserable as I treat every cut, every scrape and eventually he hisses when I pour the peroxide on the gash across his shin that had me a little worried.

The washcloth I pressed against it had stopped the bleeding and when all is said and done a pile of dirty terry cloths sit in a pile inside a large salad bowl. He looks better, less pale and after popping a few ibuprofen I suspect he'll be on the mend. I take Harm's hand and gingerly press yet another damp cloth across his knuckles. These are bruised with caked blood that isn't his. "You punched someone."

"Yeah, how can you tell?" He grins sheepishly and then the smile fades when I tell him about the many nights my father pulled me out of bed to patch his wounds after a bar fight. It happened far too many times to count and I'd begun to learn the visual cues like the subtle bruising to the fist. "I'm sorry, Mac…I didn't mean."

"It's in the past." I say casually as I return from my kitchen and place a bag of frozen carrots over his right knuckles. "This can't be just from a ball game?"

"I told you. It got heated."

"Yeah? What is that supposed to mean?" His hand is in mine as I told the frozen vegetables still and I'm taken back by how large they are. Harm's a strong man and these hands that have been used to skillfully fly a powerful jet and wield a vast degree of weapons, could be equally tender. I'm reminded of the time his hand tenderly cupped my cheek and his thumb brushed away a tear or two. He's fascinating and when I look up, I find his eyes on me.

"That feels good…kinda nice." Harm stutters and as we stare at one another my eyes drop down to his lips. I've kissed him a time or two and I know what he tastes like. At the moment, despite this awkward situation and all of his bumps and bruises, the desire to kiss him again is overwhelming.

I clear my throat and shake my head out of these thoughts. We were starting at the beginning and that meant first dates, first-ish kisses and… "So it got heated? Maybe you and Sturgis shouldn't play with those guys anymore."

"There wasn't anyone there. Just me and Sturgis." He points out and shifts, dropping his injured leg to the floor. Harm scoots to the edge of the sofa so that our knees touch and our heads are only inches away. I can't anticipate what happens next and only feel marginally betrayed when Harm spills the secret Sturgis swore to protect. "Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're in love with me."

The want to murder the bubblehead is overshadowed by a sense of embarassment and maybe a little fear. Okay, it's a lot of fear. Harm and I have this deep connection, one that helped me find him in the middle of the ocean and the same that has him bumping into me all across town. It's strange and exciting but equally frightening and disappointing. I don't want to make the first move. I don't want to be the one to have their heart broken again.

The hand that rests in mine moves and my eyes involuntarily close as Harm's palm cups my cheek. His skin is a little cold but warm at the same time and the thumb that has brushed my tears away now passes gingerly across my lips. "Sarah…I'm in love with you too."

My pounding heart ceases for a moment and all I can hear is the intake of breath, his as Harm leans in and kisses me and kisses me and…really kisses me. It's enough for us to forget his injuries and a moment later I'm situated on his lap, knees on either side of his legs. He's hot and hard, his erection nudging my backside as I rub against him.

His shirt goes flying and mine would have been next if my front door hadn't suddenly busted open and an equally injured Sturgis Turner not hobbled in. "Oh, isn't this great! You know, when you said to wait in the car I didn't expect you to be up here making out!"

Sturgis plucks the discarded frozen, err…mostly thawed carrots and presses it against his cheek which is sporting a bruise. He plops down on a chair and stares at us. "The man is a lunatic. Did you know that Harm thought I had a thing for you?"

I scramble off Harm's lap and find my place back on the coffee table. "I, you- what?" I face my would-be lover. "Why?"

Harm's cheeks tint a shade of pink I'd never seen on him and while it's endearing, I want answers. "He kept saying how great you were. How smart and strong and incredible and attractive."

"She is." Sturgis points out with a dramatic wave. "So he went all neanderthal and practically knocked me out going for the ball."

And that's where it began. A friendly one-on-one game that turned into a blood match. Sturgis called Harm a fool when he tried to deflect his affections for me until the bubble head uttered the words he swore to keep a secret. "She's in love with you, you idiot!"

"I didn't mean to say it but…"

I sigh and my anger dissipates as quickly as it had been whipped up. "You did us a favor by saying it."

"Yeah, thanks buddy, we owe you." Harm says as his injured hand covers mine. He holds it for a moment and our eyes lock in a silent conversation. He loves me. He loves me.

"Glad I could help." He grimaces as he comes to full height and I hear him wince as he doubles over. "Can we go to the hospital now? I'm pretty sure I bruised a rib."

"I'll drive you both."

I'm not sure who's limping the most but the collective groans and hisses as we step into the elevator is a little comical. "Hey Harm, same time next week?"

"How about a rain check?" He says and his good arm wraps around my waist as Harm pulls me close. "I think I'll be busy next week." His head lowers down to mine and I hear Sturgis grimace as we kiss. Life is good.