Story: I'd Like You For Christmas
Author: Radiorox
Rating: T
Summary: Christmas Challenge: Use Julie London's "I'd like you for Christmas" as inspiration for 4 chapters. Harm and Mac fluffy goodness.
AN: I always felt that answered prayers was one of those episodes where Harmon and Mac should have gotten together. While the kiss under the mistletoe was very cute, as per usual, nothing came of it…
Story 1
Harm's POV.
It was a bit presumptuous of me to arrive on Mac's doorstep with a prisoner in toe but, I couldn't leave the Petty Officer with anyone else. Her father, the minister, may have tried to spew righteous, religious nonsense but I saw who he really was. I caught the scent of liquor - the cheapest bottom shelf kind that leaves hangovers and generally brings out the foulness in humanity.
For some reason Jennifer Coates reminded me of Mac. Her past with an abusive father, a few wrong choices that nearly got her killed. Sarah MacKenzie survived because of one guardian angel that helped her dry out and find the Corps. I was determined to set the young Petty Officer on the right path and that meant finding a safe place for her to crash that wasn't my loft. Unfortunately, my best shot was Mac.
"So you're dropping me off, unannounced, on a stranger's doorstep?" The Petty Officer says with a grin as we ride up the elevator to the second floor.
"She's not a stranger. Lt. Colonel MacKenzie was my working partner. She fights hard to protect women's rights in the military. You could learn a few things from her."
As we come to her door I hold my cover on the tips of my fingers, squeezing the rim as I muster the courage to knock. When we decided to 'start at the beginning,' there were no ground rules, no time lines or expectations. It's like we hit a magic button and became friends again - close friends - but, what if I wanted more? And what if this visit proves to send us screeching backwards.
I ball my fist and hesitate when I hear the sound of Christmas music and the uniquely musical laughter that belongs to Mac. It makes me smile because I thought I'd never hear that again. I thought I had lost her for good until she offered me a lifeline.
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Coates' voice snaps me from my thoughts and when I turn to face the Petty Officer, the smug grin is gone. "I mean, you're in love with her, aren't you, sir?"
I roll my eyes and nonchalantly knock on Mac's door. "She's a friend, my best friend and please, Petty Officer, be on your best behavior and that's an order."
"Aye, sir."
Mac was in pajamas when she opened the door, a set I would never imagine she owned. Light blue flannel covered in little cowboys riding little horses. As cute as she looked, my eyes wandered over her body curiously considering what the soft material hid.
She seems genuinely happy to see me but once I introduce my prisoner, that expression completely fades. "I wouldn't be here if I had options and I don't."
She's concerned about Chloe and the thief I've brought into her home but after pleading Mac finally gives in. "Fine but we're laying out some ground rules."
I hated doing this without warning. I hated even more that her gorgeous smile took a while to reappear. Reluctantly, she lets us both into an apartment that is warm and inviting. The fireplace is roaring and the scent of her Christmas tree lingers amongst the smell of cinnamon and cocoa.
I stand by the door and marvel at the woman giving instructions to Chloe and the Petty Officer. She's every bit the Marine officer and I see Coates watching her with an intensity I was never offered. The interaction makes me smile and I hope I find the way to put the young woman on the right path.
"I know an 'I'm sorry' won't cut it but, believe me, I had no one else to turn to." I say as I sit at her dining table discussing logistics while Chole and Jennifer are in the living room. The noise from the TV muffles our conversation but I still lean in. "I tried her father, it wasn't good. He was surly and drunk and-"
"Stop. You don't have to defend your decision with me. I know you well enough. I know your reasons and I think it's admirable. Just wish it were on a different night is all."
Glancing over at the two young women watching Christmas movies, I give Coates a pointed stare. "I wouldn't worry about Chloe. I think Jennifer is a good kid, just needs a little direction."
"I know the kind." Mac says, giving me a half smile. A shadow falls on her beautiful face and suspect that thoughts of her own past come to mind. "If you need someone to help you in court, I'll make myself available."
"Thank you."
I sip my cocoa and sit in our companionable silence listening to the sounds of 'It's a Wonderful Life' on the TV. This is nice and an aspect of our relationship that disappeared once we came back from Australia. I missed this. I missed her and I vow to myself that we'll get more of this back in the new year.
"Mac, what are-" I want to ask her to be my date this New Year's Eve but the question dies once the phone in my pocket begins to ring. I answer quickly. "It's Sturgis." I tell her and then rattle off the small list of items he needed to procure from the auto shop before heading to my garage.
Rebuilding my Corvette was therapy for a time, a way to put my thoughts and energy into anything other than Mac. The months she was aboard the LHA left a part of me wide open and, for once, work didn't provide its usual distraction so I began buying the pieces to rebuild my beloved car.
Sturgis was as much of a gearhead as I was and the prospect of having a friend around was a comfort I needed when it looked like Mac and I would never find our footing. Now, I am anxious to finish and turn my efforts into mending more of our relationship.
When I snap my phone shut, I notice the shadows have fallen across her face again but, this time they're a little deeper, concerning. The sudden lump at my throat barely lets me get a word out. "You okay?"
"Fine." But she's not. I know that expression, the way Mac purses her lips, the furled brow. She studies her half empty mug, takes a sip and then, let's out a breath. "Umm, I got a postcars from Mic."
The lump at my throat disappears and is replaces with that bottoming out feeling in my stomach. It hits with such force I feel like a plebe getting my first flight in an F14 with a deranged instructor.
Mac says something else but my mind goes on autopilot recalling the way the Aussie hounded after her, wore her down until she finally gave in.
A lot was my doing, my cowardice over not taking what she offered. Any sane man would have given his soul to be in my shoes as we floated past the Sydney opera house. I was too stupid to realize that all I ever wanted was finally mine for the taking. And then, I was too late.
I often think about that night and try to figure out where I went wrong. I knew I had feelings for Mac and they had begun to dominate most of my thoughts. I didn't know that I'd fallen for her until Mic resigned his comission and moved to Washington. Their long distance relationship became all too real and my heart took a hit I hadn't expected
In all of my life not a single woman had made me so off kilter that I feel like a prepubescent boy trying to steal his first kiss. Mac does that to me with a smile or a glance. She makes me feel alive and I want more than that. I want to tell her that I love her. I want to hold on and never let go but, it's been less than six months since Mic left. Less than six months since my own two year relationsip was disolved.
How soon is too soon to make a move? When we decided to start at the beginning, I was too scared to outline what that beginning should be. I don't want to be her friend, not anymore when I know what her lips taste like and I know how her body feels pressed against mine. I want her and as insane and arrogant as it sounds, she wants me too. But we're in some aort of holding pattern.
Mac stares at me thoughtfully and I suddenly choke out the dumbest question, "Uh, so how's Mic?"
"At sea." She punctuates and I feel I might have missed something by the way her delicate eyebrow arches.
I'm tempted to ask which one of the oceans he's currently in but none of them seem far away enough. She asks about Renee and I hear a catch in her voice, as if Mac were as concerned as I am about our exs. "I got a post card from her mom. Renee and the Mortician are honeymooning in Maui."
Mac sips her cocoa. "Guess that's what you get after two years of loving someone - a post card."
"Yeah." Only I didn't love Renee and I'm hard pressed to believe that Mac really loved Mic given she didn't run after him. She came to me and in my mind that means more than I can quantify. "This is nice."
"It is."
"We should do this again without prisoners or kids. I miss spending time with you." In the beginning we were practically inseparable. Weekend runs, touring museums or simply showing up, unannounced with breakfast, lunch or dinner. She was the other part of me that I didn't know I needed until we complicated the shit out of things.
We both stay silent for a moment and I wonder if I've overstepped some sort of boundary. Before it turns awkward, I glance at my watch and stand up. "I gotta go. Sturgis is waiting for me. We're rebuilding the transmission."
"Oh? You're not gonna stay for pecan pie?"
"Pecan pie?" My engines come to a screaming stop and I'm embarrassed to admit that my mouth began to water almost instantly. "Did you make it?"
"Uh huh." Mac grins her patented, sweet and innocent grin that is anything but. I've seen that smile when Mac kicked my butt in court or when those facts she keeps in her beautiful mind are used to floor me. And now, Mac knows she's got me; I won't be meeting Sturgis any time soon.
"I'll tell Sturgis I'm running late."
Few things in this World would make me break my perpetual 'Rabbit food', as Mac coined it. Her Pecan Pie and homemade whipped cream takes the top two spots on that list. See, I love sweets but if I wish to squeeze into the cockpit of a Tomcat a few times a year, my sugar consumption is sadly limited.
"This is even better than I remember." She has this smile on her face which is part admiration, part smugness as I polish off a second slice of Mac's sinful pie. "Seriously, what's your secret?"
"It's the vanilla." Her voice states in a whisper that is both sexy and mischievous. "I found a specialty one, expensive as hell but so worth it."
And I'd buy her a truckload just to see that look on her face - simple, relaxed and so sexy it makes my heart skip a beat.
"Glad you liked it."
"I love it."
I only meant to put our plates in the sink but when I see the unwashed bowl of her mixer and a collection of other cooking apparatuses, the chivalrous side of me that was raised by women, kicks into gear.
My jacket goes on a hook in the kitchen next to her apron, the sleeves of my shirt are rolled up. Mac finds me a few minutes later as she comes in carrying two more dirty plates and one empty mug. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to." My arms are wrist deep in sudsy water making quick work of the items she'd presoaked. "You need a dishwasher."
She shakes her head. "What for? It's just little ol' me. I don't need a dishwasher…Here let me help." The cuff of my shirt is a little wet and Mac stands next to me to roll them farther up.
As her fingertips gently tug on the fabric, the back of her hand grazes my wrists and my breath comes in deep, heavy puffs like I just finished a run. There's a spark we both feel, so electric and wonderfully charged that it makes all the other noise in her apartment stop entirely.
"Harm."
"Mac."
I look at her; really look at her and see those eyes darken with want. Her cheeks flush but it's those parted lips and the asking in her eyes that makes me want to kiss her. I have to kiss her because I can't spend another second feeling the way I do without her knowing.
When I slowly lower my head to hers, I feel Mac come up on her toes to meet me halfway. The first touch of our lips is tentative and then soft and sweet. It's so good that I melt into a puddle of warm goo.
But, it's not enough. I knew the reason I never let go with Mac was because it would never be enough. And soon my mouth is taking hers in a deep, sultry kiss that leaves us both dazed and desperate to feel so much more.
The soft curves of her body beg to be touched and without warning I break a kiss to raise Mac up on the counter. Her hand fists some of my shirt and uses a slight tug to pull me close between her parted legs that are sadly covered in flannel.
We're kissing again and there is nothing slow or sweet about it, just a primal need between two lost souls that have finally found one another. I dare to snake a hand under the hem of her top, spreading my fingers over delicious skin that is warmed by her cute choice in pajamas.
I didn't know she felt like this, how Mac's skin could be covered in goosebumps over one simple touch. I didn't know I could elicit such a sexy sound when my lips descended on a spot between her neck and shoulder. I thought I knew how she tasted but that was before my tongue could sweep over her skin.
Mac pulls me closer and the hand moving across her bare skin stops the second my thumb brushes the bottom of her breast.
She isn't wearing a bra. A fact I didn't notice at first due to my preoccupation with the Petty Officer and my car. I didn't focus as clearly as I should have and though a nagging voice tells me I've gone too far, I ignore it for once.
My other thumb runs over one erect nipple forcing a gasp that sends a thrill through me. "You're not wearing a bra." I chastise playfully and all Mac does is sigh and shrug and wrap her long legs around my waist.
"Wasn't expecting company." Her voice is a little husky, a lot teasing and when I look in her eyes I see them darken with lust and desire. I want her. There's no more denying how much I want this woman when the evidence of my arousal pressing between her parted thighs.
"Just so you know, I'm crazy about you." It isn't the plea of love she deserves from me because I'm still too scared to drop the 'L' word when this is so sudden. But, it's a start and one she approves of as Mac kisses me. "I mean it. I'm so damned crazy about you."
"I want you, Harm. I want you so bad."
She kisses me with lips that still taste of pecans and species and cocoa. And if I wasn't in love with her before, now I know that I've really fallen.
I nearly come as her hand brushes over my covered erection and her thumb pops open the button of my fly. I'm already dreaming of what she feels like when I enter her, how Mac's warm depths will wrap around me when my heavy girth fills her. And then…she stops.
The hand that was seconds away from touching my heated flesh drops away like she was burnt.
"Mac, what…Did I do something wrong?"
"Shhh, the girls." Laughter and giggling, sounds of mirth come from the living room and burst the little bubble we were in. When I hear one of the girls…err…young women ask about our well being, my erection deflates as quickly as it appeared.
The hands that were so close to caressing her naked breasts slip out of her top and drop down to Mac's hips helping her off the counter with ease. There's amusement and mischief in our eyes, grins and tinted cheeks.
I'm mildly embarrassed that touching a Mac could make me forget the outside world, but I like it. I want more of this. And after sharing another kiss, a slow chaste kind of smooch, Mac nudges me back to the sink where I've left the water running. The sudsy mess is about a quarter of an inch away from overflowing and I shut off the tap to prevent a catastrophe.
"We'll be right out." She says. I grab a plate and try to keep my hands from shaking as I pass it to Mac who takes a rag to dry each piece. We work in silence, the companionable kind despite wanting to kiss each other senseless.
"Have you finished Christmas shopping?"
"Yup, two weeks ago. I tried to get a head start." Of course she did. Mac is organized and prompt and I often wait until the last minute. "How about you? Did you ask Santa for something nice?"
"I did." I say. My hands grab the rag she's holding which I toss aside. I check that the coast is clear and with one arm pull Mac towards me.
"I'd like you for Christmas."
Mac laughs as her arms snake around my neck and mine wrap around her waist. We sway to whatever Christmas carol is playing in the living room. "I think this will be the best Christmas ever."
I think so too.