Harm arrives as per his usual i.e. late, but looking more refreshed than he did when he arrived at work this morning. I stand aside to allow him entry, and before I close the door he's swept me up in his arms and plants those warm lips on top of mine. I grip his shoulders tightly, unsure of my footing as I return his kiss. After a moment he breaks away and grins.
"I missed you, Marine."
"I can tell," I reply, trying to catch my breath. I like this side of Harm. I like this side of our relationship. I think I can handle a real, romantic relationship with Harm. I hope. I don't think I can handle it if it doesn't work out, but we can't keep doing this, this ignoring what's there anymore. We've tried that for too long and we were both miserable.
He pulls away and takes a seat on the couch. He watches me as I try to regain my composure. I don't know what's with me lately, but I find myself once again in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body as he trails kisses down the side of my face and neck. Somehow I'm sandwiched between the cushions and Harm's body, tracing my fingers along the gold buttons of his uniform, trying to think of all the reasons we should take this slow, but I can't get my mind to function beyond the buzz that is being created by Harm's soft ministrations. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his body on mine, the barest hint of stubble on his face as it scratches my cheek when he presses a kiss onto my temple and ear. I relish the fact I am able to experience—to know—Harm this way. I'm already committing to memory that feel of very fine sandpaper that his face has at…19:37 and 22 seconds.
It's very faint, but I can distinguish his aftershave as well, something I've already committed to memory. I pull him closer to me, and Harm returns his attention to my lips. He runs his tongue along the seam of my mouth. I part my lips and his warm tongue slips in, gently sweeping across my teeth into my mouth.
I groan in disappointment when he pulls away. He gives me a half-smile. "Time to pack it in."
"Huh?" I whisper dreamily. What is he talking about?
"Mac?" I open my eyes to find Harm staring curiously at me. We're still at the office, my office, and it's well after seven. In fact, it's almost 19:38. Most of the other offices I can see, and the bullpen, are dark.
"You ready to call it a day, Marine?"
Ugh. Why did that have to be another dream? I stare at my favorite sailor in disappointment. Perhaps it's for the best. We really don't need to be getting ahead of ourselves before we figure out where we're going with…us.
"You okay?" He asks, his black eyebrows narrowing in concern. The eyes, I notice, are not nearly as red, and he seems a little more alive now then what he did earlier this morning.
"Yeah," I say, managing to find my voice. "Yeah. Just…daydreaming."
"I can tell."
I blush. Can he really? Does he know who—or what—about?
"And that lovely flush confirms what about. Or dare I say whom?"
Well, that answers that question.
"What? Like you've never dreamed about me before?" I retort. Now it's his turn to blush. Harmon Rabb blushing. Obviously, those are some interesting dreams he's had. He fidgets a little as he tries to think of a way to change the subject.
"You want to grab dinner?" Good method. I'm starving. Food is most likely to throw me off his trail. However, sitting down to dinner with him will give me the opportunity to grill him for some details of these dreams.
"Sure."
"Okay. Maybe we…maybe we can talk about us." I don't want to seem oxymoronic, but my guard goes up when he says that. Maybe it's because every time either of us has tried to broach the subject of "us", the results have been a)nonexistent; or b)tragic.
At this point, I think it's best to just let things be as they may, and not question, and not fight, the way our relationship is developing.
"Okay," I agree warily. He looks as confident as I feel.