Title: Perfect

Summary: Harm pulls his head out of his ass at a wedding.

Notes: This is all going to be a collection of unrelated one shots to satisfy the urge I have to write something fluffy without having to worry about an actual plot. All will be romantic and sappy; all will be inspired by a song lyric or quote or whatever. Some will be sexier than others - if it's going to be hot, I'll let you know before hand in case that isn't your kind of thing.

More notes: this was written on my phone. My apologies for any and all errors.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

-Ed Sheeran, Perfect

The reception is in full swing by the time I arrive, and as I straighten my tie and scan the crowded tent, I only have one thought: Mac is going to kill me.

She's going to kill me, and since she's now been at Clayton Webb's wedding for two hours by herself, I'm not even going to hold any murderous thoughts or intentions against her. I mean, I grew up around money and conceited private school kids, and I already want to punch at least three people.

I don't see Mac, but I do pick out Webb spinning his new wife - a beautiful blonde named Gabrielle - around the dance floor. Gabrielle comes from the same kind of east coast old money that Webb does, and I'm sure her beaded, strapless white dress with the fullest skirt since Scarlet O'Hara cost more than I make in a month. My search for my de facto date is paused for a moment while I watch them dance. He looks so happy. I've never really thought of Webb as a happy person, but he seems to be right now, and I'm happy for him. I'm also hopeful that the beautiful, Porter Webb approved new wife will mean that he'll stop flirting with Mac.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and I grab a glass before resuming my search for my partner. I'm sure she's here. She's called and left a few messages. The first was just to let me know that she was here and to tell me where she was sitting. But, the messages quickly turned into hushed threats as the clocked ticked on, and I was obviously more than just a little late. After the ceremony was over she left me a final message, and told me that my punishment for standing her up and forcing her to spend the evening fending off Webb's smarmy friends and colleagues was that I'd have to eat the new special burger at Beltway - a triple patty monstrosity with pimento cheese, fried onions, and pickled jalapeños. I wince at the thought, but I'll do it if helps her not to be mad at me.

I wish I recognized someone here; someone who could possibly give me a hint as to where Mac is. But other than Webb, there isn't a single person here that Mac or I know. I don't see her anywhere in the massive tent, and I'm about to trudge back to my car for my cellphone when I see light outside the other end of the tent. Thinking there may be another area of the reception, I politely move through the crowd and let out a breath when I reach the end of the tent. The other light was coming from the historic mansion on the property. The windows were lit up with candles (hopefully electric ones), and there were lanterns lining the walkway. It was really beautiful, and looked how me imagined it looked in the late 1700's.

"You're late."

I jump at the sound of her voice, and turn in that direction. I can barely make out a figure sitting on a swing that's hanging from a massive oak tree, but I know it's her.

"Sorry about that." I move closer, and stop in my tracks once I can finally see her. Sarah MacKenzie is always a beautiful woman. But right now she takes my breath away. Her sleeveless emerald green dress is cut low in the front, a large bow falling over one shoulder, and layers of green fabric swish lightly as she pushes herself on the swing. Her feet are bare, and I spot a pair of strappy gold heels laying a few feet away.

"You look beautiful." She doesn't stop swinging, and I move a little closer. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Where were you?"

My cheeks flush slightly, and I'm hoping that it's dark enough that she doesn't notice. She does, of course, and she pumps her legs harder and goes higher. "Who is she?"

I move closer and wait until she's within arms reach and I grab the swing ropes to stop her. "It's not like that. Keeter is in town and begged me to be his wingman. I told him I could for one hour, but then I had somewhere I needed to be. But my watch stopped." I drop my left hand from the rope and artlessly shove my hand in her face. "See," I say, hoping she'll notice that my watch is stuck on 5:12. "And when I finally realized what time it was, I had to go home and change, then there was traffic, and…" I trail off at her cool expression. "I'm sorry," I say.

"It's fine," she says, her voice as cool as her eyes. "I mean, we were just coming friends. You don't owe me anything."

I hate that I hurt her. I hate that my carelessness has resulted in this gorgeous woman sitting here on a swing by herself feeling unwanted and unworthy. She's right about the friends thing, but I am so damned tired of just being her friend. The past few months have been good. Really good. We spend nearly every free moment we have together, and it's starting to feel like we're an abstinent couple. I want to be part of a couple with her, although preferably one with a ton of sex, and I have for such a long time. But, her rejection on the Guadalcanal was brutal, and I haven't been able to work up the courage to make my move. I know I sound like a coward, but I've secretly hoped that all of those Saturday morning runs and Sunday brunches would just naturally lead to something.

I hold on tight to the ropes and keep her close to me. "It's not okay," I say. "I really am sorry."

She stares at me for a moment, and then softens slightly. "It's okay." The tension between us is thick, and I let go of the swing to give both of us a little more space.

I watch her begin to swing gently again and smile, hoping I don't look as lovesick as I feel. "Are you still going to make me eat that burger?" Her eyes light up and she smiles broadly, and I know that I'd eat anything she asked to make her smile like that.

"The Beltway Triple? Oh, absolutely!" I groan and her eyes sparkle. "You'll love it."

"Yeah, that sounds just like something I'd love."

The word love puts a whole new tension in the air, and I think she's about to say something when I hear the music change. Her eyes dart towards the tent and then she smiles. "I like this song. Want to go inside and dance?"

I don't want to go inside. There are people inside - loud, intoxicated people. I feel like we'd lose the magic that seems to have wrapped itself around us if we join the others. I hold out my hand to pull her up, but instead of moving toward the tent, I pull her close. "Dance with me here."

She's shorter than normal without the mile-high heels she likes to wear, and she has to look up at me, which is different and even though I know it makes me seem like a chauvinist, I kind of like it. She circles her arms around my neck, and we sway gently to the guitar music coming from the tent. I've danced with this woman many, many times over the years, but it's never felt as intimate as this. Something about her bare feet in the grass and the solitude - I've never felt like I was dancing with a sister when I dance with her, but now I've never been more aware that I'm dancing with a stunningly beautiful woman that I have intense feelings for. I hold her tighter, and she rests her head against my chest. I dip my head just a bit to take in her scent, and I wonder if she can tell that my heart is racing. I'm suddenly hit with this overwhelming frustration that we're in the same place we've been in for years. I mean, I guess it's slightly better since there isn't a Dalton, or an Annie, or a Jordan, or a Brumby, or a Renee in the picture, but at the same time that makes it almost worse. I don't want to dance with her at this wedding, and then go back to my place alone. I want to dance with her here, so back to my place afterward, and slowly peel that dress off of her. I know what her lips taste like, but I'm desperate to know how her skin tastes. Does she know how much I'm affected by being this close to her? Does she have any idea how desirable she is?

"You're thinking too much," she says, her soft voice slicing through this dangerous path my brain is on. She pulls back just a bit and tilts her head up. Her eyes lock with mine, and I take a shuddering breath. Her eyes are dark and heavy, and I can't be imagining the want and desire I'm seeing.

"I am," I agree. My voice is husky and she shivers lightly.

"What are you thinking about?"

I swallow hard. I don't want to get shot down again, but I have to try. I'm a former fighter pilot for crying out loud. I have to find enough courage to tell her how I feel. My hand trails lazily over her bare back, and she shivers against me. "I'm thinking that I should have asked you to come to this wedding as my date. As a proper date." She stops swaying and looks up at me.

"Harm…"

"Mac, I am so goddamned tired of being just your friend." And I am. I'm so tired of fighting what I feel for her, and I can't keep doing it. "I need more. And if we've missed our chance, I'll live with it and I'll move on, but I can't live in this limbo anymore."

Her hands are still clasped behind my neck, and before I can say anything else, she pulls me down and kisses me. Her mouth is warm and soft and tastes like lemons cake. She pulls back after a moment, and presses her fingers to her lips.

"You're thinking too much," I say, repeating her earlier words. Her hand drops from her mouth and she smiles.

"I am," she plays along.

"What are you thinking about?"

She lets out a light laugh. "Would it be a terrible cliche to quote 'Top Gun' right now?"

I snort and her smile widens. "I think that depends on the quote."

She moves closer to me again and there is no way she doesn't feel how hard I already am. Her arms go around my neck again, only this time her fingertips toy with the ends of my hair. "Take me to bed or lose me forever."

I bed to kiss her again, a more intense kiss than the first, and a hen I pull back both of our hearts are racing. "Show me the way home, honey."

The End.