A/N: Wow, I finally get to be home for a whole two weeks! My travel
schedule has been really busy lately, but I'm trying write as fast as
possible. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I hope you continue to
enjoy this as much as I do!
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Thursday; 2331 Zulu; Harm's Apartment; North of Union Station
"Mac, be a dear and hand me that spoon, will you please?"
"Just a moment, let me get this out of the oven." Sliding the laden baking dish onto a trivet to cool, Mac closed the door soundly before passing the requested utensil. A cloud of steam billowed from the pot on the stove. Inhaling deeply, her mouth began to water. "That smells wonderful," she complimented.
Trish smiled as she worked. "It's an old family recipe, handed down on my mother's side for the last four generations. Harm used to love it when he was a child. I don't cook very often now that it's just Frank and me. We spend a lot of time abroad, and when at home there are plenty of excellent restaurants around La Jolla."
"I've got a huge collection of take-out menus myself. But it's always nice to have a home-cooked meal."
"Especially one you don't have to prepare yourself. Now go sit." Mac couldn't help but grin as Trish shooed her over towards the dining room. "You've been on your feet most of the afternoon and should rest for a bit while we're waiting for Harm. I'll be right over as soon as I clean up." Giving the sauce one final stir, she set the spoon down on the counter before covering the pot.
A moment later, two sets of eyes focused on the front door at the sound of a key in the lock. Sea bag in one hand and cover in the other, Harm's gaze immediately zeroed in on Mac as soon as he stepped into the loft.
"Sorry I'm late. I would've called after dropping Sturgis off but the battery on my cell phone died." Shutting the door behind him, he paused to hang his cover before crossing the room to her side. "How are you doing?" he asked softly, laying one hand lightly on her rounded tummy.
Standing at the stove, Trish watched the unfolding scene with fascination. Even as a boy Harm had always had a protective streak towards others. Now, seeing him for the first time as a doting father-to-be, she was overcome with pride and absolute certainty that her son's feelings for this woman indeed ran as deeply as she'd suspected. Leaning slightly to one side, she observed an identical expression of affection on Mac's face as she looked back at him. *It seems the road runs both ways,* Trish thought with satisfaction.
Harm straightened and gave Mac's hand a squeeze before turning to greet his mother. "Hi, Mom. Or should I say, 'Grandma'?" he grinned broadly.
"'Grandma' will do," Trish laughed, embracing him in a long hug. "It's so good to see you, dear. Frank sends his love and congratulations."
She pulled back so that her son was at an arm's length before glancing between him and Mac. "Now, Harmon, why don't you get drinks for everyone and have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
"What did you two do today?" Harm moved to open the refrigerator, where he grabbed three bottles of water. "Did you end up going shopping?" he asked, passing one to Mac as he joined her at the table.
"First we went to see the house," Trish said as she fixed their plates, "then around to some specialty décor stores."
"We picked out new wallpaper for the foyer and the master bath. And I found some gorgeous tiles for the kitchen backsplash." Mac smiled coyly at Harm. "We brought back some samples to show you."
"Let's bore him with that later, dear," Trish said easily as she set their dinners down in front of them. "It's been a few hours since you last ate and it's important for my grandchild's sake that you keep up your strength."
Seeing the questioning look he shot in her direction, Mac rolled her eyes in mock consternation. "Don't worry, Flyboy. Your mom's been taking good care of us. I promise."
* * * * * * * * * *
Sunday; 0125 Zulu; Mac's Apartment; Georgetown, Washington D.C.
Sitting cross-legged on Mac's kitchen floor two days later, Harm peered into the cavernous cabinet in front of him with grim trepidation. They were supposed to be moving into the new house the following weekend, but the daunting task of packing still loomed on the horizon. When Mac had asked Harm for assistance, he had envisioned lifting and relocating boxes – tasks she was precluded from doing because of her condition. He'd never imagined that she would want him to help sort through her belongings.
"Jesus, Mac. How many small appliances do you really need? You've got enough stuff in here to open a Williams Sonoma outlet store."
"You're just jealous because I've got better quality equipment than you do," she countered from a few feet away. Wrapping a large serving bowl in a sheet of newsprint, she carefully set it down in an otherwise empty box. "Relax. Come this time next week, you'll be able to use anything and everything here to your heart's content."
"Now *there's* a loaded statement." Glancing back at her with a smirk, he reached into the cabinet for the nearest appliance.
"Oh, you wish—"
Suddenly, Mac grimaced and lifted a hand to her stomach, letting out a low moan. Harm was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"What's wrong? What's the matter?"
She didn't respond, only continued to frown as her hand rubbed absently across her swollen abdomen. Fighting to keep his voice steady against the wave of rising panic, Harm searched her face with evident concern. "C'mon, Marine, talk to me."
"I... I'm okay," she whispered, slowly meeting his gaze. "I don't know what—"
Her eyes widened in surprise an instant before she awkwardly grabbed for his free hand. Positioning it carefully where hers had been, she clutched his arm excitedly. "There! Can you feel that?"
Becoming aware of the movement underneath his fingertips, Harm's eyebrows lifted and he looked at her in astonishment. The alarm he had experienced moments earlier was washed away by an overwhelming sense of wonder and delight. "The baby?"
A sweet smile crept over Mac's face as she nodded, not fighting the unexpected flood of tears. Waiting for him to make some comment about her hormones, she was caught off guard when he instead reached up and gently ran a finger down her wet cheek.
"Hey."
Harm's voice was hoarse with emotion as he blinked away his own tears, flashing her a watery smile. Reaching down to take her hand, he brought it up to his lips and lovingly kissed the back of her knuckles. Then, without giving it much thought, he leaned forward and their lips met in an exquisitely tender kiss.
Moved beyond words, Mac finally let her head drop onto his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him as she fell into his warm embrace. Holding her tightly, Harm closed his eyes and affectionately pressed his lips to the side of her head. The packing was momentarily forgotten. Sitting there for what felt like an eternity, Harm and Mac were content simply to be entwined in each other's arms.
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To be continued...
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Thursday; 2331 Zulu; Harm's Apartment; North of Union Station
"Mac, be a dear and hand me that spoon, will you please?"
"Just a moment, let me get this out of the oven." Sliding the laden baking dish onto a trivet to cool, Mac closed the door soundly before passing the requested utensil. A cloud of steam billowed from the pot on the stove. Inhaling deeply, her mouth began to water. "That smells wonderful," she complimented.
Trish smiled as she worked. "It's an old family recipe, handed down on my mother's side for the last four generations. Harm used to love it when he was a child. I don't cook very often now that it's just Frank and me. We spend a lot of time abroad, and when at home there are plenty of excellent restaurants around La Jolla."
"I've got a huge collection of take-out menus myself. But it's always nice to have a home-cooked meal."
"Especially one you don't have to prepare yourself. Now go sit." Mac couldn't help but grin as Trish shooed her over towards the dining room. "You've been on your feet most of the afternoon and should rest for a bit while we're waiting for Harm. I'll be right over as soon as I clean up." Giving the sauce one final stir, she set the spoon down on the counter before covering the pot.
A moment later, two sets of eyes focused on the front door at the sound of a key in the lock. Sea bag in one hand and cover in the other, Harm's gaze immediately zeroed in on Mac as soon as he stepped into the loft.
"Sorry I'm late. I would've called after dropping Sturgis off but the battery on my cell phone died." Shutting the door behind him, he paused to hang his cover before crossing the room to her side. "How are you doing?" he asked softly, laying one hand lightly on her rounded tummy.
Standing at the stove, Trish watched the unfolding scene with fascination. Even as a boy Harm had always had a protective streak towards others. Now, seeing him for the first time as a doting father-to-be, she was overcome with pride and absolute certainty that her son's feelings for this woman indeed ran as deeply as she'd suspected. Leaning slightly to one side, she observed an identical expression of affection on Mac's face as she looked back at him. *It seems the road runs both ways,* Trish thought with satisfaction.
Harm straightened and gave Mac's hand a squeeze before turning to greet his mother. "Hi, Mom. Or should I say, 'Grandma'?" he grinned broadly.
"'Grandma' will do," Trish laughed, embracing him in a long hug. "It's so good to see you, dear. Frank sends his love and congratulations."
She pulled back so that her son was at an arm's length before glancing between him and Mac. "Now, Harmon, why don't you get drinks for everyone and have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
"What did you two do today?" Harm moved to open the refrigerator, where he grabbed three bottles of water. "Did you end up going shopping?" he asked, passing one to Mac as he joined her at the table.
"First we went to see the house," Trish said as she fixed their plates, "then around to some specialty décor stores."
"We picked out new wallpaper for the foyer and the master bath. And I found some gorgeous tiles for the kitchen backsplash." Mac smiled coyly at Harm. "We brought back some samples to show you."
"Let's bore him with that later, dear," Trish said easily as she set their dinners down in front of them. "It's been a few hours since you last ate and it's important for my grandchild's sake that you keep up your strength."
Seeing the questioning look he shot in her direction, Mac rolled her eyes in mock consternation. "Don't worry, Flyboy. Your mom's been taking good care of us. I promise."
* * * * * * * * * *
Sunday; 0125 Zulu; Mac's Apartment; Georgetown, Washington D.C.
Sitting cross-legged on Mac's kitchen floor two days later, Harm peered into the cavernous cabinet in front of him with grim trepidation. They were supposed to be moving into the new house the following weekend, but the daunting task of packing still loomed on the horizon. When Mac had asked Harm for assistance, he had envisioned lifting and relocating boxes – tasks she was precluded from doing because of her condition. He'd never imagined that she would want him to help sort through her belongings.
"Jesus, Mac. How many small appliances do you really need? You've got enough stuff in here to open a Williams Sonoma outlet store."
"You're just jealous because I've got better quality equipment than you do," she countered from a few feet away. Wrapping a large serving bowl in a sheet of newsprint, she carefully set it down in an otherwise empty box. "Relax. Come this time next week, you'll be able to use anything and everything here to your heart's content."
"Now *there's* a loaded statement." Glancing back at her with a smirk, he reached into the cabinet for the nearest appliance.
"Oh, you wish—"
Suddenly, Mac grimaced and lifted a hand to her stomach, letting out a low moan. Harm was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"What's wrong? What's the matter?"
She didn't respond, only continued to frown as her hand rubbed absently across her swollen abdomen. Fighting to keep his voice steady against the wave of rising panic, Harm searched her face with evident concern. "C'mon, Marine, talk to me."
"I... I'm okay," she whispered, slowly meeting his gaze. "I don't know what—"
Her eyes widened in surprise an instant before she awkwardly grabbed for his free hand. Positioning it carefully where hers had been, she clutched his arm excitedly. "There! Can you feel that?"
Becoming aware of the movement underneath his fingertips, Harm's eyebrows lifted and he looked at her in astonishment. The alarm he had experienced moments earlier was washed away by an overwhelming sense of wonder and delight. "The baby?"
A sweet smile crept over Mac's face as she nodded, not fighting the unexpected flood of tears. Waiting for him to make some comment about her hormones, she was caught off guard when he instead reached up and gently ran a finger down her wet cheek.
"Hey."
Harm's voice was hoarse with emotion as he blinked away his own tears, flashing her a watery smile. Reaching down to take her hand, he brought it up to his lips and lovingly kissed the back of her knuckles. Then, without giving it much thought, he leaned forward and their lips met in an exquisitely tender kiss.
Moved beyond words, Mac finally let her head drop onto his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him as she fell into his warm embrace. Holding her tightly, Harm closed his eyes and affectionately pressed his lips to the side of her head. The packing was momentarily forgotten. Sitting there for what felt like an eternity, Harm and Mac were content simply to be entwined in each other's arms.
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To be continued...
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