Title: A JAG Fourth
Author: TracyJean
Summary: Harm and Mac enjoy the Fourth of July on the National Mall, with Harm learning not to mess with a pregnant Marine on a mission for ice cream. This is just a little piece of fluff written in response to the challenge on the FicRecon board at Voy. Pretend that Harm and Mac actually got closer in season eight, Paraguay never happened, they got married in the summer of 2003, and that in July 2004, shortly after the deadline for their deal, Mac is about eight months pregnant with their first child.
I couldn't really think of a good title. The title is a play on 'A Capital Fourth', the annual Washington D.C. Fourth of July concert and fireworks show.
Disclaimers: Isn't it obvious yet that they aren't mine. Things would have been a lot different the last two – no, the last five – years if they were.
By the way, Fossil Fuel is a new Ben & Jerry's flavor that has chocolate fudge, chocolate cookie pieces and fudge pieces in the shape of dinosaurs. Perfect for Mac.
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SUNDAY, 4 JULY 2004
NATIONAL MALL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
"Fossil Fuel," Mac said as Harm spread out a blanket on a small rise behind the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial. The entire Mall was beginning to fill up in advance of the annual Fourth of July extravaganza, but Harm wanted a spot near the memorial. Harm had billed it as their daughter's first visit to the Wall. Mac figured that by the time until the concert and fireworks were over, they would have ended up lighting the spark on a mini Navy-Marines war, with both of them regaling their unborn child with the virtues of their respective branch of service.
Harm was on his knees, smoothing out the blanket as he made sure there was nothing sharp or lumpy that might be uncomfortable to sit on. He stopped and glanced up at his wife, his brow furrowing in confusion. Mac thought he looked adorable when he got that look on his face, and if it hadn't been so difficult for her to bend over, she would have leaned down and kissed the creases on his forehead away. "Excuse me?" Harm asked.
"Your daughter wants Fossil Fuel," she replied matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything. "With pickles, of course."
"So now she's my daughter again," Harm muttered. As Mac had explained it to him about a month after she'd found out she was pregnant, if the baby was causing odd food cravings, kicking at the most inconvenient times or just generally making life as uncomfortable as possible for her mother, she was 'his daughter'. At all other times – which were coming fewer and farther between the closer they came to 16 August – she was 'Mommy's little angel'.
They wouldn't know for about six more weeks if little Victoria would have his looks and her mother's brains, but Mac was already telling anyone who would listen that she definitely was showing signs of Harm's personality. Harm sighed. At least he would be able to figure out the thought processes of a child with his traits. His independent wife was another matter – there were times when she made perfect sense and other times during which he thought he'd never be able to figure her out, even if they ended up married for fifty years.
"Harm," Mac said, drawing out his name in a reminding tone. "Fossil Fuel?"
Harm settled onto the blanket in a cross-legged position, holding his hand out to Mac to help her down onto the blanket. "Is this some kind of Marine thing?" he asked as she settled onto the blanket on the opposite corner from where he was, sitting on the pillow she'd been holding in her hands. "Like eating bugs in the field or something."
"I will have you know, Harmon Rabb," she retorted in a teasing tone, "that I've never eaten a bug in my life. I actually think that's a SeAL thing, which would be your branch of service. Fossil Fuel – it's Ben & Jerry's."
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"Ah," Harm said in comprehension. Since about the fourth month of her pregnancy, her favorite food had been Ben & Jerry's ice cream. And it seemed that every time she wanted it, it was a different flavor. He'd once thought Baskin Robbins and their thirty-one flavors was bad. He thought there seemed to be an unlimited supply of Ben & Jerry's flavors. One time it had been Phish Food; the next it had been Chunky Monkey; the time after that she'd lusted after Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. Once, she'd even gotten him to try the frozen yogurt version of Cherry Garcia. The memory brought a sensual smile to his lips. What that woman had done with those cherries ought to be considered illegal.
"Harm," Mac said insistently, interrupting his reverie. "Your daughter wants Ben & Jerry's Fossil Fuel ice cream."
Harm leaned forward until his face was about two inches from hers, his palms flat against the blanket for balance. "We're sitting on the National Mall," he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "Where exactly am I supposed to get Ben & Jerry's Fossil Fuel ice cream in the middle of the Mall?"
"You might think that's a nice smile," Mac said in a mock stern voice, "and that you can use it to have your way with me, but I've learned to resist it since you got me into this situation."
"That's funny," Harm retorted with a grin. "I could swear that last night…."
"….was a momentary weakness," she finished, leaning forward so that their lips were nearly touching. Just as he was about to move in for a kiss, she pulled back, grinning saucily. "Which there won't be any more of if you don't get me the Fossil Fuel and dill pickles that your daughter craves."
This woman knew exactly how to push his buttons, and when she invoked their unborn daughter, all bets were off. "You never answered my question," he reminded her, pouting in mock disappointment.
"We're within walking distance of several Metro stations," she explained. She motioned vaguely in the direction of the L'Enfant station. "Go to one, get on a train and go to Bolling and get some at the Commissary. Or you could go over the river to Ft. Myer and go to that Commissary."
"The Commissaries are closed on holidays," he reminded her.
"Then find the nearest Safeway," she said sweetly.
Harm sighed. He didn't remember anything in their little deal from five years ago about him being at her beck and call for nine months, but he knew better than to mention that unless he wanted to figure out how to squeeze his six-foot four-inch frame onto a couch that measured less than six feet from arm to arm – a couch that he was sure she'd picked out as incentive not to upset her and get banished from their bed. She'd reminded him more than once that he'd gotten all the fun of making the baby and none of the hardships associated with actually carrying the life they'd created for nine months, with months seven through nine coming in the heat and humidity of a D.C. summer.
"Any thing else I can get, your majesty?" he teased, climbing to his feet, purposely turning so that she got an eyeful of his six as he rose. He turned his head, grinning as her gaze locked on his backside.
Licking her lips, Mac looked up at him. "I think that can be negotiated," she said slowly, "after you bringing me back my ice cream." She laughed gaily as he started walking towards the nearest Metro station, muttering under his breath about no commanding officer could be more demanding than a pregnant Marine.
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The End