1258 ZULU (0758 EST)
HARM'S APT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
"You can go ahead and use the shower, marine. It's kind of dark, but…well, just think of it as conserving energy," I tell Mac, thinking if only I had thought to extend an invitation, we could've conserved some water this morning, too. We're both breathless and a little sweaty after our little wrestling match on the floor.
Tripping me up was, of course, an act of war.
I'm not quite sure if a battle was ever conducted quite like ours, but the kissing and making out certainly didn't lessen the fun. She's got quite a few moves. Of course, this aviator can still pull a few G's easily, too.
"You gonna give me a hint on the next clue?" she asks, panting.
"What do you mean? I just gave you a couple of hints." I finally make it to my knees. It takes a little more effort than I'd rather dwell on right now.
"Those were hints?" she huffs. Literally.
"Well, what would you call them?"
"Not hints."
"You want a hint?"
"A real one, yeah," she breathes shortly, still gasping for air.
"Convince me."
She ponders me for just a few seconds. "You're on." Then she launches herself at me. This time I'm prepared for her, and we both go down on the floor in a relatively organized heap.
"Have you been outside today, Big Brother?" The door to my apartment slams shut, causing Mac and I to jerk upright collectively—she gripping tightly to my sweatshirt, and me clasped tightly around her waist.
Oh, shit. Sergei. I forgot about him. I twist around to see where he is in reference to his view of us, but I have no idea why I do so. There aren't too many places to hide in my apartment. He walks right on past us, leaving little trails of snow along the apartment, the refrigerator his intended goal.
Good. Maybe Mac and I have the—
"What have we here?" he drawls, stopping mid-stride when, I guess, he finally notices us. He says something I don't catch in Russian, but apparently Mac does because she turns one of her becoming shades of red.
"Nothing," I reply, attempting to get a handle on this situation.
"It doesn't look like nothing." Sergei leans up against the fridge and regards us gleefully.
"Well, whatever it looks like, it's nothing."
"Your face is red, Big Brother."
"Yes, thank you, Sergei. I just—" I stop unable to think of a plausible reason why my face could be flushed.
"I can leave if you like," he continues easily, reveling in my discomfort.
"No, that's quite all right, Ser—hey, where have you been?" I ask, the fact he was gone all night finally hitting me.
"I stayed with a friend. The weather was too poor to get back."
"Did you walk back to Harm's apartment?" Mac interjects. Apparently trying to save face, she, as nonchalantly as possible, lets go of my shirt and smoothes back her ruffled hair. I follow her gaze to Sergei. It's then I notice the deep red flush of Sergei's own face.
"You walked back?" He nods.
"Only from the station to your apartment. It was not bad."
"That's twelve blocks!"
"In this weather? It was nothing. You Americans do not know what snow is until you have survived a Siberian winter."
I release Mac and stand up. "You must be freezing."
"No, not really. It is not that cold outside. Why are there no lights?" Then he looks from Mac and I as though he suddenly gets it.
"Power's out," I say pointedly, knowing exactly what he's thinking.
"Ahh. You sure you don't want me to leave?"
"No, no. Harm and I were just wondering what we'd do today. The more the merrier," Mac says before I get a chance to reply, not that I was going to kick my little brother out into a snowstorm, but it sounds a bit…incriminating…Mac's way.
"Are you sure? Is not three a crowd?" He asks innocently, but I know better. I shoot him a warning look. He grins unrepentantly back. Then he proceeds to delve into a conversation, conducted entirely in Russian, with Mac. Having Sergei live with me these past few weeks has not brought my Conversational Russian up to par with Mac's.
I sigh and start to straighten up the apartment, finding the broom and dustpan, and eradicate all snow trails from my floor. I hear Mac chuckle several times as Sergei spins some amusing tale. After catching the word for brother, I realize it's about me. Christ, I hope he doesn't reveal anything too embarrassing. Or too personal. There's not a whole lot he knows about my past escapades, but he has heard some, and quite a few that Mac has no knowledge of.
He also has a pretty good idea as to the seriousness of my feelings towards Mac.
Fortunately, Mac excuses herself to the shower, before he really gets going. At least I think it's before he really gets going. Again, my Russian is not what it could be.
"So, little brother, what did you do last night?"
"Probably not the same thing as you, big brother." He grins widely at his joke. Thank god Mac didn't hear it.
"Nothing happened, Sergei," I say firmly.
"It did not look like nothing when I came in."
"Are we going to have this conversation again?" I put away the broom.
"I am serious. What is going on between you and Colonel MacKenzie?"
My lips twitch as I ponder what to say. "We've…decided to see each other—"
"Finally! I had thought you had taken leave of your senses, Big Brother, when you said you were just friends. It is obvious the way you feel for each other."
Why does everybody say that? Or some variation of that.
"Yes, well, nobody except you knows we're involved now."
"Why?"
"Well, we've only been seeing each other—dating—for just over a week. I—we—it's just easier without everybody breathing down our necks, right now. So we're keeping it quiet."
"I will not tell a soul. Not even the lovely Lieutenant Singer, no matter how nice she asks," he eyes take on a dreamy look. Dear god, I thought I took care of that notion.
"You'd be best to stay as far away from Lieutenant Singer as possible, little brother. She only wants one thing. And it's not you—it's what useful information she can get from you."
"I will tell no one. You have my word."
I nod in acceptance. "Come on, you have to help me figure out what to do with Mac today."
"It did not look like you needed my help earlier." He laughs at my expression. "Sorry to rain on your march, Big Brother."
"It's parade, and cool it with the innuendo."
"Innu--?" His brow furrows inquisitively.
"I'm back! Did you guys miss me?" Mac asks, sweeping into the room in a burst of steam-showered exuberance. I notice she's still wearing my USNA shirt, but she swiped a pair of black sweats. As she dances by I catch a whiff of my soap and shampoo, the masculine scent not unpleasant, but not as intoxicating (for obvious reasons) as her own toiletries.
Sergei smiles in greeting, and says something to Mac in Russian. Her eyes flicker to me before she replies, a pretty blush staining her freshly scrubbed cheeks.
I gently kick Sergei as I walk by to collect my blankets from the couch. He smiles his innocent smile and takes a seat next to Mac.
"So, gentleman," she announces brightly, "what are we going to do today?"
**********
The day actually went by rather quickly between the three of us and no TV, radio, or electricity (which was finally up by late afternoon). Trivial Pursuit by candlelight was rather nice, as was monopoly—two games I haven't played in years. Mac and Sergei kept themselves entertained trading stories about me—most of them ones I really preferred that either party not know. Sergei and I managed to round up some food. Mac and I managed to act like adults and not paw at each other like lustful teenagers. That took quite an effort of will, I'm chagrined to say. God, I wanted to touch her.
Still do.
"So, who will sleep where?" Sergei enquires, and for once his innocence is sincere.
"Well, you and I…" I trail off realizing that if he and I share the bed then Mac will have to sleep on the couch. After spending the night there, I can attest that it is neither really warm, nor comfortable.
"Oh, don't worry about me, Sergei." Mac waves a dismissive hand. "You—"
"Mac, I am not letting you sleep on the couch," I cut in.
"I'm not going to."
"Well, where are you going to sleep?" She better not say the floor. If she thinks I'm going to let her sleep there she's sorely underestimated this sailor. However, she does have a good idea. I can just set up camp on the floor.
"The bed." As if to emphasize her point, she marches over to it and pulls down the covers and slips in. On my side. She casts an inviting smile my way.
I cast a bemused glance at Sergei. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, attempting to hide that infuriating smirk.
"Coming Harm?" Mac calls.
Hell, yes.
"Mac, are you sure about this?" I ask, wondering where that came from.
"We've slept together before, Harm." Sergei's eyebrows shoot skyward.
Not like this.
I must have said that out loud because she asks, "Like what?"
I open my mouth to answer but think better of it. "Never mind," I say instead.
"Well, then come to bed, Harm."
Yes, Harm, come to bed.
"Let me get the lights…and…everything." Moments later I'm sitting in bed trying my damnedest to concentrate on yesterday's paper while my beautiful pajama-clad partner (and girlfriend now, I suppose) squirms restlessly beside me, causing the bed to rock like a ship in rough seas.
"Problems?" I ask after another five minutes of roiling around.
"Can't sleep." She sits up a little. "Don't you have a TV?"
"No, you know I don't."
"You need a TV."
"Why? Between court and away investigations I'm barely here long enough to keep up with the newspapers." I indicate my present one. "Besides, I find a good book is a great—"
"If you had a TV we could watch Letterman every night in bed. And old movies."
"—I'll see about picking one up payday," I finish. Forget the book. Hell, if she intends to join me here nightly, the least I can do is be accommodating.
She snuggles up close to me, laying her head on my shoulder, skimming the headlines of the "World News" section. After a moment she sighs.
"What books do you have?"
********
"Are you still reading that thing?" Harm asks rolling from his right to his left side to face me—and the clock. He squints at it in the dim light. "It's 0325."
"Mm-hmm," I reply distractedly.
"How much longer are you going to be reading that thing?" He asks groggily.
"Don't know. Can't sleep, and things just got really interesting. This is a great book, Harm. Have you read it?" A slight shake of his head is his only reply. Well, that, and a long sigh. "Well, there's this counter intelligence agent. She and this other guy—a captain in the—"
Harm reaches out and plucks the novel out of my hands and tosses it over by the closet. I lie there stunned.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" It's far too cold to slip out and retrieve it.
Harm leans over me to touch the lamp. He taps it once and we are blanketed in darkness.
"Sleep," he murmurs, pausing to give me a kiss. If he expects me to forgive him for interrupting me in a really good part, he's going to have to do better than that. I slip my arms around him and pull him to me.
He doesn't disappoint.