Disclaimer: Uh, no. We don't own 'em, and we don't care about getting sued. At this point, I am so disgusted with DPB that if I met him, I would fling pooh at him and call him all kinds of ugly names while jumping up and down, throwing the biggest temper tantrum you've EVER seen. (Sarah says she doesn't want to get sued… and that she would hug DPB and beg him to let Harm and Mac get together in the series finale.) I should punch her, but I won't because I need her to help me through the whole being-of-Mac in this chapter…
A/N: My disclaimer was long enough to be my A/N… and Sarah has nothing to add because she stole my pop tarts… I hope they made you pooh a lot and that you feel a tremendous amount of GUILT- Dana
Coveted Cotton
"What Other Hand?"
Chapter 3
I frantically search for something to wear as I wonder why Harm is here with his ass on his shoulders…
His tone was a bit harsh… but mine would be too if my ex-best friend had trumped up charges against me like that.
Sturgis deserves to have the piss beat out of him, and if I could get away with doing it… if I knew there would be no repercussions… I would stomp his tonsils straight out his asshole…
I put on a black bra, a matching thong, and slip into some jeans.
Where the hell is that black t-shirt? I just saw it this morning… but where?
There's a knock at the door and I hear Harm ask, "You decent?"
I bite my bottom lip before calling out, "Uh… yeah."
He walks in and I have my back to him.
"That's decent?" He asks, laughing a little.
Good.
He's in a better mood…
"It is to me… and don't act like you've never seen a bra before, Harm." I tell him, still searching for my shirt. "Do you see a black shirt anywhere?" I ask, turning around.
Without even looking around my bedroom, he says, "No."
I smile.
"Did you even look around, or are you just telling me that so that I'll stay in jeans and a bra?" I ask, laughing.
He flashes me a smile. "I plead the fifth." He says, finally looking around the room.
"It was here this morning… somewhere." I tell him, frowning.
He shrugs his shoulders and says, "Just put something else on."
I roll my eyes.
"I don't won't to wear something else… I want my black t-shirt." I tell him, pulling another drawer open.
It's not in this drawer either.
"Mac… just… grab something. Don't you have another black shirt? Or that one… what's wrong with that one?" He says, pointing to the shirt I am holding in my hand.
I look down and turn my nose up.
"It's white." I tell him, balling it up and cramming it back into the drawer.
"Yeah, so?" He asks, walking over to the end of my bed and sitting down.
I glare at him.
Does he think I am that stupid?
"Harm… the shirt is white… my bra is black." I tell him, still pulling shirts and socks out of my drawer.
"Oh." He says, my point dawning on him.
"Ah, yeah…" I say, opening another drawer.
"Do you trust me?" He asks, standing up and walking over to me.
I nod.
"Yeah… why?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
What is he up to?
He peeps into the drawer I have just opened and smiles.
"That's… nice… real nice." He says, pointing to a camouflage thong. "I wouldn't have guessed you to be the thong type." He adds, his eyes leaving mine for a second.
He glances at my chest and with my index finger under his chin, I lift his head so that he is looking into my eyes.
"Eye contact." I say, then turn to close my drawer.
"You said you trust me, right?" He asks, walking over to my closet.
"Of course I trust you." I tell him, closing my drawer.
When it's the last thing on my list of things to do, I'll find that damn shirt…
Isn't that how it always goes?
I think it's just my luck… or my life…
I watch as he opens my closet.
He's giving this some thought…
Forty-eight seconds of silence later, he looks at me and smiles.
"You wanted something black?" He asks, still looking into my closet.
"Preferably…" I tell him, walking over to where he is standing.
He shrugs.
"Nope. Nothing. I don't see anything that works…" He tells me, closing my closet.
I laugh.
"You mean to tell me that there's nothing in that closet that I can put on?" I ask sarcastically.
He shrugs and once again he says, "I plead the fifth."
I walk over to my closet and open it.
"What about that black turtleneck? Or that black sweater?" I ask him.
He leans in close to me, peering into the closet.
"You said you wanted a black t-shirt…" He says, flashing me that gorgeous smile of his and closing my closet.
It hits me that his left hand has been behind his back since he walked in and sat down on the end of my bed.
"Harm… what's in your hand?" I ask, taking a step towards him.
He raises his right hand.
"Nothing." He says, still smiling.
"And the other hand?" I ask him, holding out my hand.
"What other hand?" He asks, feigning innocence.
He's not fooling me… but I'll play along…
"Your left hand, Harm… the one that's behind your back…" I tell him, hand still outstretched.
"Oh… that hand." He says, sticking his right hand behind his back, then holding up his left hand. "Nothing's in this hand." He tells me, still smiling…
Okay, Harm… if you want to play…
We'll play…