Disclaimer: If I owned JAG, I would have had the decency to change the title to 'CIA' this season. And while I was at it, I would have given Webb more screen time. He is an interesting and complex character (read: he's hot) and I'd like to see him more fully explored on screen (read: he's really hot).
A/N: Finally, the PWP we've all been waiting for!
She's beautiful tonight. She's beautiful all the time, actually, but here in front of the fire, wrapped up in her favorite green sweater and a blanket my mom knitted for me the first time I shipped overseas, she's breathtaking. I find myself shaking my head at my own idiocy. Here's the most important woman in my life - gorgeous, smart, funny, loyal – and I've never told her any of it. A distinguished flying cross and numerous other honors to my name, and I can't find the courage to do anything more than watch her while she's not looking.
She glances up from the dossier she's reading and gives me a little smile, and I can feel my heart skip a beat. Before Russia, before she followed me halfway across the world to find out what happened to my father for no better reason than because she's my friend and I needed her, I simply had a crush on her. Now that I know just how loyal she really is, how much I can trust her and how much I mean to her in return, that crush has been developing into something uncomfortably like infatuation. Everything reminds me of her; everything in my life begs for her approval.
Take my apartment. I used to be able to make decisions on my own: which paint colors to pick, which rug to buy, what kind of furniture I wanted. Now, I can't do so much as sand the floor without her opinion. The new kitchen table is one she found while we were antiquing last week, hidden in a little shop on Fifty-third. I wasn't sure about it, but she insisted and now I can't imagine the apartment without it. The armchair I'm sitting in was a find of hers, too, and the rug she's currently sprawled across was part of my Christmas gift last year. Every part of my life reflects her presence, but if I really need to be surrounded by her, all I have to do is walk in my front door.
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I clear my throat and Harm gives me a guilty look.
"Working hard or hardly working, flyboy?"
"Just admiring the scenery," he replies, flashing me that gorgeous grin. I wonder if he has any idea how that smile affects me. My knees turn to jelly and my heart races; I feel like a lovestruck teenager.
"Does that deserve a traffic signal?"
His grin widens. "That depends. Feel like handing me a green light? It is my birthday, after all."
I can't tell if he's teasing or not. He's still grinning like a fool, but his eyes are dark and serious. Usually it's Harm who backs away first, and I tell myself that if he's kidding, he'll do just that.
"Okay, birthday boy," I reply. Shrugging off his blanket and dropping the file I'm holding, I lean back on my elbows to better allow for his viewing pleasure. "Green light. Go for it."
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I don't think I've ever been as turned on in my life as I am when she tells me I've got a green light to 'admire the scenery'. A little voice in my head tells me that if I'm going to keep my feelings secret I need to crack a joke and look away, but I'm sick of that pattern. Things will go back to normal tomorrow, I know, but it's almost one in the morning and any restraint I might have is already asleep.
I set down the notes I've been pretending to take and let my eyes rove over my partner's lithe form. Cute little toes, still painted with sparkly pink polish from her last weekend with Chloe. Trim ankles, those exceptional legs that make me thankful every day to whoever designed the Marine Corps uniform skirt, perfectly curved hips, slim waist, flat abs...I nearly lose my nerve as I come to the next stop on my visual tour, but I've got the green and green means go. I can feel her gaze boring into me as I spend a little longer staring at her chest than I did pretty much anywhere else, but she doesn't realize that I've already moved on to her collarbones. I don't know what it is about them, but they're just breathtaking, and the position she's reclining in shows them off beautifully. From there I move to her smooth neck, adorned with the little diamond pendant I splurged for last year on her birthday, past full, slightly parted lips that have fueled many a Harmon Rabb, Jr. fantasy, and end up gazing into beautiful brown eyes that shimmer with the firelight and her resigned amusement. That amusement fades as the stare continues, and we approach and pass the point where I usually look away and say something inconsequential to break the mood. Tonight I have no interest in breaking the mood.
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I can't believe he took me seriously with the green light, but as he looks me over I struggle to keep my amusement on my face. I'm not amused anymore, I'm completely turned on. Now if he would just get out of that chair and come over here and act on the desire I can see burning in his gaze...
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The phone startles both of us, and I curse under my breath before I reach over to grab it. No matter what we do, something always gets between us when we come close to...whatever we were just close to doing.
"Rabb."
"Hi, honey!"
Good lord, it's my mother, who's obviously forgotten about the time difference again. It should be illegal to have to hear your mother's voice while you're having the thoughts I'm having and the inspiration for them is less than ten feet away.
"Hey, mom. What's up?"
Mac gives me a little smile and returns her attention to the case file in front of her, and I suppress another curse. I can tell from the expression on her face that she's pushed this moment away like we've done so many times in the past with so many other moments, and I swear to myself that I'll figure out some way to get the possibility of more between us out in the open. The hints and little moments between us in the past have fueled my desire for her, and the answering passion I saw in her eyes tonight tells me I've got a pretty good chance.
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My mother has finally talked herself out, and I'm returning to the living room to hang up the phone when I realize Mac's fast asleep, curled up in front of the fireplace. I sink down onto the couch and just watch her for a few minutes. She's so strong, so brilliant, but when she's asleep she just looks peaceful. Finally, I decide that she's not going to be a happy camper if she wakes up on the floor tomorrow morning, so I'd better wake her or move her.
I immediately throw out the idea of waking her. She needs the sleep and I don't have the heart. Besides, if I wake her she'll insist on going home. I don't mind taking the couch if it means I can hear her breathing in the dark across the room. I drop down beside her, unable to resist the urge to brush her hair away from her face before I slide my arms under her and lift her. I'm surprised at how little she weighs; for all that I tease her about her eating habits, she's almost too thin.
As I carry her the thirty feet from the fireplace to my bed, she shifts in my arms and snuggles her head against my chest, murmuring something I don't catch. I don't want to put her down, but I know if she wakes up and I'm holding her she'll probably remove one of my arms. I lay her on top of the covers and go back to grab the afghan she was wrapped in earlier. When I get back, she's blinking up at me and I mentally curse my luck. Now she'll insist on going home.
"Hey," she murmurs. I sit down beside her, draping the blanket over her.
"Go back to sleep," I tell her, and she shakes her head. This is the part where she tells me she's imposing and high-tails it out of here.
"You didn't get your kiss."
Uh, what?
She sees the confusion on my face and smiles. "Your birthday kiss, Harm." Before I can protest that she's half-asleep and not in control of what she's doing, her arms are wrapped around my neck and her lips are on mine.
It's a nice kiss, gentle and chaste. It's over far too soon for my tastes, but she just smiles up at me before dropping her head down onto the pillow.
"Happy birthday, Harm," she says. Happy birthday, indeed. "Did you get everything you wanted?"
"Just now," I tell her, and her smile is brilliant. She pats the pillow next to hers, and when I waver she swats at me.
"You're not sleeping on the couch," she says, yawning. "You're a foot longer than it is. I passed kindergarten, I know how to share."
I smile and give in. I can't think of any better way to end my birthday than snuggled up to the woman I love. Besides, the couch really is too short.