Title: We've Got Tonight
Summary: The coin toss never happens, and Harm and Mac go their separate ways. But they run into one another over the years and find the spark is still there.
Notes: Everything I know about the (real) Navy comes from Google, Reddit, and a friend from my old apartment complex. I'm sure a lot of what I learned is inaccurate or may be different than it was in 2011. But for the sake of this story, let's pretend that Carrier deployments are anywhere from 6-9 months and occur every 18-24 months (per Google). And yes, I know an XO position still has administrative responsibilities. Much as he tries, he'll never completely escape paperwork.
Part Eleven
May 2012
London
"Pants off. Right now." She says the words between frantic kisses, and I'd laugh if I weren't so goddamned turned on. I am forty-nine years old, and this woman makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old kid about to have sex for the very first time.
"Can we get inside first," I ask as we finally reach the front door. I fish my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door, backing inside and pulling her with me. She pushes the door shut once she's cleared the threshold, her body is pressed against mine again, and her nimble fingers are working on my belt. With a dramatic flourish, she pulls it free, and this time I can't help but laugh. "A little eager, are we?"
She unbuttons my pants and slides her hand inside. I close my eyes when her hand wraps around me, and she kisses me again. "Four months, Harm. Four insufferably long months." Four months without her – our longest separation yet – has been absolutely terrible, and the thought of an even longer separation makes me dread my imminent deployment. "Stop thinking." She pulls back to look at me, and I laugh again. She's trying to look stern, but her serious face and raised eyebrow aren't incredibly effective with her comically mussed hair and swollen (and unbelievably sexy) lips.
"I'm not thinking," I insist, but she knows I'm lying and stares at me. "Fine, I'll stop thinking," I promise.
"Good."
"Good," I agree. And then she starts undressing me again, and within minutes I'm standing in my entryway completely naked. She giggles, and I grab her waist and squeeze gently. "Something funny, Colonel MacKenzie?"
"Maybe." I roll my eyes and feel smug when her eyes move down my body, lingering on my erection. "Maybe not." She says and runs her tongue over her lips. "But I do think I'm overdressed," she says.
"Well, let's do something about that," I say. I grab the hem of the t-shirt dress she's wearing, my fingers grazing her smooth thighs, and she lifts her arms so I can pull it off. She's not wearing panties, and I nearly whimper. "God, Mac, please tell me you didn't fly from San Diego to London like this."
She rolls her eyes and gives me a playful shove. "Of course not; I took them off in the bathroom at the airport." She reaches around her back and unhooks her bra, and I watch as she flings the pale blue garment aside. She's naked in front of me now, and she's so damned beautiful I can't even think straight. California has been good to her. Her toned body is perfectly sun-kissed, she has this glow that she never had when we were in Washington, and I can't stop staring at her. She realizes I'm unashamedly staring and blushes a little, and I love that she's comfortable enough with me that she doesn't try to cover herself up. "What?"
"You're radiant," I say.
"Well, yeah," she says, and she smiles, the smile that makes my heart beat faster. "I'm happy." She reaches out and runs her hands down my chest. "You make me happy."
I cover her hands with my own and lean in to kiss her. "Even from 3,000 miles away," I ask when we break apart.
"Yeah, even from 3,000 miles away." I pull her against me and run my hands over as much of her as I can reach. "I need you," she says.
I need her too. We had been doing so well with regular visits once I decided to try for an XO position, and, miraculously, we never let more than a month go by without seeing one another. It's like we were both determined to bank as much time together as we possibly could. But then, shortly after New Years, everything changed. I finally got the assignment I wanted, and I report to the USS Abraham Lincoln in July, and along with my regular duties, the past few months have been full of training and have gone by in a blur. Mac took the news better than I expected. She cried at first and was standoffish for about a week, but things slowly went back to normal. I think the fact that the Lincoln is docked in San Diego helped tremendously because I'll be there with her full-time once the deployment is over. We'll have at least a year together before I leave again, and I keep reminding her of that. A year of dinners together, watching movies on the couch and making love on lazy Saturday mornings.
"I need you too," I say, lifting her into my arms, waiting for her legs to wrap around my waist, and then carrying her to my bed.
"You're keeping this? Really?"
I sigh loudly. I love this woman, but she's making me crazy. She offered to help me start packing but seemed to have commentary on half of my belongings. I look up from the pile of ties and belts I'm sifting through and roll my eyes when I see what she's holding. "Why not?"
She's holding it up as if it's a disease-infested rodent rather than simply an eleven-year-old t-shirt. "Well, it doesn't have sleeves anymore, for one." She lowers it to her lap and takes in the JAGathon logo that has faded so much that it's nearly invisible.
"Mac, you still have t-shirts much older than that one." I'm proud of myself for not mentioning that she's currently only wearing panties and an ancient Duke Law School t-shirt that skims her thighs.
She wrinkles her nose, folds the shirt, and adds it to the box of things I'm keeping. "That wasn't a good time for us."
She's right, and I still want to crawl into a hole and die every time I think about her overhearing the remark I made to Sturgis about her exes. "Yeah," I say. I lean over the sorted piles on the bed, careful not to knock anything over. "But everything eventually worked out."
"I know," she says, adding more of the t-shirt stack to the box she's filling. "I just hate we wasted so much time."
I watch her for a minute and then straighten and push the belts and ties aside. "Come here," I say. She walks around the bed to my side, and I take her hand and gently pull her onto my lap. "We still have plenty of time," I say.
She circles her arms around my neck and bites her lower lip. "Not that much," she says. "You're leaving in two months."
I lean forward and bump her shoulder with mine. "I'm coming back, though." She doesn't say anything, and I bump her shoulder again. "I didn't mean that kind of time, though. You're only forty-five. I'm only forty-nine. My grandmother is ninety-two, and I take after her." I place a soft kiss on her neck and smile. "You'll have to put up with me for a very long time."
She smiles, and her fingers tangle in the ends of my hair. "It'll never be enough."
"I know," I say, and she's right. We may have decades ahead of us, but we have lost so much – so much time, and with that, the chance to have a baby together. I hate that. I'll always hate that. "It'll be over before you know it."
She shrugs, pulls her hair back, and secures it in a messy ponytail. "Yeah, but then you'll go again. And again. And again." She's getting frustrated, and I know she's about to push off my lap. I quickly wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tighter.
"I'll always come back," I say quietly. She shakes her head and tries to pull away again. I hold her tighter. "Mac, look at me." She meets my gaze, and I move one hand to her head and gently trace her ear's outer edge, making her shiver. "I will always come back to you." She doesn't look convinced, and even though this isn't the way I had imagined doing it, I know now is the right time to ask a question I should have asked her a lifetime ago. I lean in and kiss her, gently nipping at her bottom lip. "Hey, Mac?"
"Hmm?"
"Marry me." Her eyes go wide, and I smile – hoping I look more confident than I feel.
She doesn't move or speak for what feels like an eternity. Finally, she swallows and bites her lower lip. "What?"
"Marry me," I repeat.
She shakes her head. "Harm, you don't – you don't need to do this because I'm anxious."
"That's not why I'm asking," I say, trying not to feel hurt that she hasn't said yes. "I was planning on asking you at dinner one night this week." She looks uncertain, and I sigh and turn to reach for the nightstand. I pull open the drawer and pull out a black box. She looks like she's about to pass out, and I can't help but grin as I flip open the box and show her the ring I picked out a few months ago.
"Harm…" She whispers my name, and I pluck the ring from the velvet cushion.
"I love you, and I want to marry you."
"Are you sure?" I nod, and she lets out a shaky breath. "What if I can't – can't handle you being on a carrier?"
I know she's afraid, and I try to be as reassuring as possible. "I've already told you I'll resign my commission if this doesn't work. You're more important to me than anything else, and that will never change." I extend the ring, and she takes a deep breath. I lean forward to kiss her, and when I pull back, there are tears on her cheeks. I cover the tear trails with my thumbs, and my heart starts to beat faster. "Marry me, Mac."
She takes a deep breath and then finally nods, and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. "Really?"
"Yes," she says softly. "Of course, I'll marry you. Yes." She lets out a shaky breath as I take her hand and slide the diamond solitaire onto her finger. It fits perfectly, and I smile as she stares at it for a long moment. When her eyes meet mine again, I lift her hand and bring it to my mouth, brushing my lips over her delicate fingers. "I love you," she says.
"I love you." I pull her closer, and she shifts to straddle me. I run my hands over her thighs and underneath that old shirt. I've kissed her hundreds of times by now, but this one feels different. This time I'm kissing my fiancée.
End Part Eleven
