Morning languidly passed into afternoon, with Harm and Mac only leaving the
stream for a short time to partake of the light lunch prepared by Harm Sr
under his mother's supervision, when they informed the older lady that they
hoped to get enough fish to give everyone at least a small portion in the
evening.
Their endeavours in this regard were not helped by the fact that Harm was a sucker for the pleading blinking of beautiful eyes, and whenever Mac took a turn at tickling trout and left him to supervise their catch, chatting to each other about nothing in particular as they did so, at least one fish would always mysteriously vanished, to be replaced by a smug look on a green face and a deep, rumbling purr.
Only at one point did Mac actually catch Harm in the act, as she turned to face him with a freshly-caught, relatively large trout. He didn't notice her turn round, and started guiltily when she cleared her throat and looked pointedly at the fishtail hanging out of their furry companion's mouth.
"If you're like this with him, what are you going to do when we have kids?"
Harm stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, taken aback by her casual assumption that kids were in their future. Of course they had their baby deal, but that had only been for one. He liked the sound of the plural coming from her lips.
He shook his head violently, aware that if he allowed himself to dwell on the image of a pregnant Mac sitting by the fire in the farmhouse with a two- year-old on her lap he'd never snap out of it, which might not go down too well, and shot her a brilliant grin.
"I guess the big bad Marine is going to have to keep me in line."
"In other words, I have to be the bad guy in front of the kids."
His grin grew wider. "I could make it worth your while when the kids aren't around." he trailed off, suggestively raising an eyebrow.
"Get your mind out of the gutter!"
"I was thinking of somewhere more comfortable."
"Harm!" She was looking past him now.
"What?"
"How many fish were there two minutes ago?"
"I'm not sure, I didn't count." he turned around, "But I'm almost sure there were more than that."
He moved his gaze to the right, and it was met by a very smug grin.
"I'm starting to remember why I'm a dog person."
"Harm, dogs steal food too."
"But they at least look guilty about it afterwards."
Despite the feline intervention, Harm and Mac had caught themselves a reasonable haul by the time dusk set in and they had to head back to the house to present the fish for Grandma Sarah's inspection. There were too many trout for them to carry them by hand, and they didn't trust a certain someone enough to risk leaving the fish unsupervised and make two trips. Or maybe they did trust him, just not in a good way.
Harm solved the problem by removing his shirt, a solution with which Mac had no problems whatsoever, despite its being a very nice shirt and probably not deserving of being covered in slimy fish scales. Mac felt this way for two reasons.
First, Harm had a very nice chest. A very nice chest indeed.
Secondly, he turned out to have slightly ticklish sides. This would not have been a problem for him, or a cause of amusement to Mac, were it not for the Green Fish Stealer, who had by this time recovered enough from post- digestive lethargy to have an apparently boundless amount of energy and a not-at-all boundless method of running. It leapt around like a housecat following a sprig of catnip being waved in front of it on a string, and its leaps frequently caused it to brush past Harm's side, its fur coming into contact with Harm's bare skin and making his whole upper body twitch, and Harm gasp at the sensation, much to Mac's amusement. She called him on it as they neared the house.
"Big Bad Fighter Pilot can handle a little fur"?
"I can handle fur Mac, just not when it's brushing lightly against my side like that. If the contact was firmer I wouldn't have a problem. It's the light touch, not the fur."
"So if I were to do this." she trailed the very tips of her fingers against his left side, the one closest to her, "You'd have the same reaction?" She smiled, with a slightly evil glint in her eyes.
He gasped, and turned his head to look down at her.
"Mac, if you don't want to be the bad guy, you might want to rethink what you're doing at the moment."
She removed her hand. "I'll bear that in mind."
Harm wasn't certain that tone of voice boded well, but by this time they had reached the kitchen door, and it was time to change the subject.
Their endeavours in this regard were not helped by the fact that Harm was a sucker for the pleading blinking of beautiful eyes, and whenever Mac took a turn at tickling trout and left him to supervise their catch, chatting to each other about nothing in particular as they did so, at least one fish would always mysteriously vanished, to be replaced by a smug look on a green face and a deep, rumbling purr.
Only at one point did Mac actually catch Harm in the act, as she turned to face him with a freshly-caught, relatively large trout. He didn't notice her turn round, and started guiltily when she cleared her throat and looked pointedly at the fishtail hanging out of their furry companion's mouth.
"If you're like this with him, what are you going to do when we have kids?"
Harm stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, taken aback by her casual assumption that kids were in their future. Of course they had their baby deal, but that had only been for one. He liked the sound of the plural coming from her lips.
He shook his head violently, aware that if he allowed himself to dwell on the image of a pregnant Mac sitting by the fire in the farmhouse with a two- year-old on her lap he'd never snap out of it, which might not go down too well, and shot her a brilliant grin.
"I guess the big bad Marine is going to have to keep me in line."
"In other words, I have to be the bad guy in front of the kids."
His grin grew wider. "I could make it worth your while when the kids aren't around." he trailed off, suggestively raising an eyebrow.
"Get your mind out of the gutter!"
"I was thinking of somewhere more comfortable."
"Harm!" She was looking past him now.
"What?"
"How many fish were there two minutes ago?"
"I'm not sure, I didn't count." he turned around, "But I'm almost sure there were more than that."
He moved his gaze to the right, and it was met by a very smug grin.
"I'm starting to remember why I'm a dog person."
"Harm, dogs steal food too."
"But they at least look guilty about it afterwards."
Despite the feline intervention, Harm and Mac had caught themselves a reasonable haul by the time dusk set in and they had to head back to the house to present the fish for Grandma Sarah's inspection. There were too many trout for them to carry them by hand, and they didn't trust a certain someone enough to risk leaving the fish unsupervised and make two trips. Or maybe they did trust him, just not in a good way.
Harm solved the problem by removing his shirt, a solution with which Mac had no problems whatsoever, despite its being a very nice shirt and probably not deserving of being covered in slimy fish scales. Mac felt this way for two reasons.
First, Harm had a very nice chest. A very nice chest indeed.
Secondly, he turned out to have slightly ticklish sides. This would not have been a problem for him, or a cause of amusement to Mac, were it not for the Green Fish Stealer, who had by this time recovered enough from post- digestive lethargy to have an apparently boundless amount of energy and a not-at-all boundless method of running. It leapt around like a housecat following a sprig of catnip being waved in front of it on a string, and its leaps frequently caused it to brush past Harm's side, its fur coming into contact with Harm's bare skin and making his whole upper body twitch, and Harm gasp at the sensation, much to Mac's amusement. She called him on it as they neared the house.
"Big Bad Fighter Pilot can handle a little fur"?
"I can handle fur Mac, just not when it's brushing lightly against my side like that. If the contact was firmer I wouldn't have a problem. It's the light touch, not the fur."
"So if I were to do this." she trailed the very tips of her fingers against his left side, the one closest to her, "You'd have the same reaction?" She smiled, with a slightly evil glint in her eyes.
He gasped, and turned his head to look down at her.
"Mac, if you don't want to be the bad guy, you might want to rethink what you're doing at the moment."
She removed her hand. "I'll bear that in mind."
Harm wasn't certain that tone of voice boded well, but by this time they had reached the kitchen door, and it was time to change the subject.