Summary: Mac is having difficulty with something, and Harm comes to the rescue, as usual. However, he's never had to deal with something quite as threatening as a Marine's Halloween costume. Complete Harm/Mac fluff.
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own JAG, because Harm and Gunny aren't locked in my closet. JAG belongs to David Bellasario and CBS.
A/N: Hey everyone, this is the first fic I've posted on here, and I really hope everyone here enjoys it. I'm a total sap, so don't expect any deep angst in this one (though I will definatly explore it in later fics). Anyway, please review and give any constructive critism you may have.
"I hate these things." Sarah Mackenzie threw the innocent white sheet of paper on her desk like it was a warrant for her arrest. Groaning, she sat back in her chair, massaging her temples.
"You hate what, Marine?" A voice interrupted her thoughts.
Looking up, she caught a hint of a flyboy grin on the face of her partner, who apparently had been leaning up on the door for at least a minute or two. "Nosy Squids." She replied smoothly, smiling slightly despite herself. "And they just seem to be coming out of the woodworks."
Harm put his hand over his heart in a gesture of mock hurt. "That cuts deep, Mac." Stepping in the doorway completely, he shut the door behind him. "Seriously, what is it that has you so stressed out? The McCray case is destined for a plea bargain, and…"
"It's not a case, Harm." She sighed, resigned to how sad this was going to sound. "It's the Halloween Party."
His eyebrows shot up. "Bud and Harriet's Halloween Party?" A flash of amusement appeared in his eyes. "The U.S. Marines have an aversion to Halloween parties? Do they teach that in boot camp, or did you just pick it up along the way?"
A glare answered his question. "It's not the party. It's the costume that the invitation so cheerily says to remember." The amusement growing in the Navy officer's eyes was doing nothing to help Mac's temperament.
"Why? Do you not like dressing up for Halloween?"
"I just can never feel comfortable getting into fluffy cutesy outfits or daring genie numbers. They're just not…me, you know?" And the thing was, she knew he did know. He always knew. Laughing quietly, she continued. "I guess I could always go as a Lt. Colonel in the Marines."
Harm chuckled. "No, you are going to have a costume. The rest of us have to dress up, you are no exception. If we have to be ridiculous, so do you."
"We could all go as various Navy and Marine officers."
"And it would be just like a day at the office with candy corn. Now how much fun is that?" Mac snorted in reply. "I thought as much. Now, the trick is to get you a costume you can actually tolerate wearing…." He furrowed his brows in thought.
Raising an eyebrow, Mac looked up at Harm."Good luck on that one."
Leaning casually against the file cabinet, he looked around the room, as if searching for some clue in the myriad of files. Suddenly his eyes lit up, and a flyboy grin appeared in full force on his features. "I've got it!"
After a few seconds of silence, Mac took the bait. "And would you care to tell me exactly what it is you've gotten. It's only my costume."
"It'll be a surprise." Oh no, he's got that look on his face…
"I'm not really sure I like the sound of this…"
"Don't worry…you also helped me get my costume actually…just trust me on this." Mac's expression conveyed exactly what she thought of this, especially when his smile widened. "Believe me, Mac, you'll love this."
I bet I will. "Can you at least tell me what your costume is going to be?"
"If I tell you that, you'll know yours…its sort of a package deal." The unspoken behind his words…the so we'll be going together…hung in the air, and neither of them cared to clear it away.
Sighing with a resigned nod, Mac smiled slightly. "Alright, Flyboy, you take care of my costume. Though, remember, I know where you live."
"Ah, so the idea I had of bunny ears and a fluffy tail is out the window?"
The flirty tone in his voice threw her a bit off guard, but she caught herself in time to send a threatening comment about the placement of said bunny ears and well placed glare his way. Knowing a cue when he saw one, Harm headed toward the door.
"Trust me, Marine." With a parting smile, he disappeared, leaving Mac slightly worried but strangely excited at the same time. Stupid holiday.
Over the next two weeks, Mac tried not to ponder the various costumes Harm may have had in mind. In spite of her efforts, she still found herself staring around her office in search of whatever had tipped Harm off in the first place. Amid the files and few personal pictures there seemed to be nothing costume-worthy. Harm's random glances at her were no help either – they were usually accompanied with a strange smile that somehow managed to thrill and terrify her at the same time.
"So…about Halloween...what are you…?" As they sat in the meeting room she tried one more time to catch him off guard. It worked just as well as it did the other 10 times she tried it.
"Cut it, Marine. You'll know on Halloween."
"And how am I supposed to get the brilliant costume if it is a surprise? Click my heels three times and I'll have it on?"
His flyboy grin hit in full force. "As good of an idea as that is, no. I'll send it to your house the day before to make sure it fits…you won't get it til you see me anyway."
"Greeat. That makes me feel so much better. Is there anything I need to do to make my costume complete?" One thing Mac hated was not being in control. This certainly counted.
Harm snapped his fingers, apparently remembering something. "Yes there is! Halloween morning I need you to go to the salon a block from your apartment. They'll know what to do."
"A salon!" Any fear she had was now elevated to three times its normal status. "If this involves any major changes to my hair, including, but not limited to, cutting, coloring…
"Trust me." Screw those Squids and their pitiful faces. As if he didn't know she trusted him more than anyone in the world. "It's not permanent, merely a hairstyle. And you'll still have time to go back home and put on your costume before I get there. Your appointment's at 1500."
"Right." The sense of foreboding didn't ease much. "So, I'm getting the costume Friday…then appointment and party Saturday….I do appreciate you giving me a day to run screaming if the costume is…questionable."
"That in itself should tell you my intentions are honorable. So, Bud, what do you have for me on Hamilton?" As quickly as it started, the conversation ended, winding its way back into the world of military justice.