TITLE: metacarpal poetry
AUTHOR: not jenny [circle [at] circlegirl.com]
FANDOM: JAG
PAIRING: Mac/Harm
DISCLAIMER: not mine.
RATING: C, for pure and utter cheese. gouda, even.
ARCHIVE: want, ask, have, and all that jazz.
*
Her hands are deadly weapons.
He finds himself studying them, from time to time, out of the corner of his eye. Nothing obvious of course, just a cursory glance to remind himself that she's there. That she's real.
That she could kick his six five ways to Sunday if she caught him staring at the curve of her fingers around that coffee cup. Fluidity and purpose combined, and maybe, just maybe, there's some sort of poetry in that. Or maybe he's just going a little insane. Either way, though, there's no better way to go. Watching her fingernails tap inpatiently against the ceramic mug.
He thinks he loves her hands the most.
"Harm?" She snaps her fingers in front of his eyes, "hey, partner, you in there?"
Though it's quite possible it's her voice that does him in.
He opens the file in front of him, "Oh, sorry, Mac. Let's get started on this, why don't we?"
She looks at him like he's lost his mind, and grabs a pen.
"Alright, let's start with the Petty Officer..."
Nope, it's definitely the hands, he decides, as she starts to write. She has killer hands.
*fin
AUTHOR: not jenny [circle [at] circlegirl.com]
FANDOM: JAG
PAIRING: Mac/Harm
DISCLAIMER: not mine.
RATING: C, for pure and utter cheese. gouda, even.
ARCHIVE: want, ask, have, and all that jazz.
*
Her hands are deadly weapons.
He finds himself studying them, from time to time, out of the corner of his eye. Nothing obvious of course, just a cursory glance to remind himself that she's there. That she's real.
That she could kick his six five ways to Sunday if she caught him staring at the curve of her fingers around that coffee cup. Fluidity and purpose combined, and maybe, just maybe, there's some sort of poetry in that. Or maybe he's just going a little insane. Either way, though, there's no better way to go. Watching her fingernails tap inpatiently against the ceramic mug.
He thinks he loves her hands the most.
"Harm?" She snaps her fingers in front of his eyes, "hey, partner, you in there?"
Though it's quite possible it's her voice that does him in.
He opens the file in front of him, "Oh, sorry, Mac. Let's get started on this, why don't we?"
She looks at him like he's lost his mind, and grabs a pen.
"Alright, let's start with the Petty Officer..."
Nope, it's definitely the hands, he decides, as she starts to write. She has killer hands.
*fin