Hi, everyone! Thank you for all the nice comments. Don't worry - Renee and Mic won't actually be in this story very much, but they'll make Harm and Mac think about their relationship a little bit. I hope you like this chapter - thanks for reading!
"You look beautiful tonight."
It was funny that Mic had said the same thing to her just a little while ago, but the compliment sounded completely different coming from Harm now. Mac's stomach always fluttered whenever his eyes darkened like that and he stared at her with something that she just couldn't place.
No. Not Harm tonight. Matthew.
As she stepped out of the car, taking his offered hand, Mac smoothed her dress and wrapped her hands around her husband's arm.
"Shall we?"
La Vittoria was one of the most sought after romantic dinner destinations in Washington, DC. The quaint, cozy dining room made its guests feel as if they were truly on a country street in Italy with flowers, candlelight, and soft, classical music. The food was renowned for its spices and authentic taste, and the aromas coming from the kitchen made Mac's mouth water before she had even opened the menu. Both she and Harm were sure they didn't want to know just how Webb had managed to secure reservations for them at such a classy place.
Once they were seated and had delivered their orders to the waiter, Harm reached across the table and threaded his fingers through Mac's. "Monica, I have something for you," he said softly.
Mac's brow crinkled in confusion. A gift for her?
Harm set a lavish black velvet box on the table and pushed it towards her with a shy smile. "Go ahead, open it."
Eagerly, Mac lifted the lid to reveal an exquisite sapphire heart on a gold chain.
"Oh, Matthew," Mac breathed. "It's beautiful. Help me put it on?"
Mac's heart beat just a little faster as Harm slid into the booth next to her, his fingers warm against the back of her neck, securing the gold clasp. He leaned forward slightly and his breath tickled her ear. "Camera," he whispered softly, although to anyone passing by, it looked like a husband whispering promises for later that night to his wife.
Instantly, Mac stiffened as she realized that the jeweled heart was a CIA-issued camera. She nodded almost imperceptibly but let out a feminine giggle as if she were responding to something else entirely.
The waiter brought their food just a few minutes later, and both Harm and Mac shared a fine meal of pasta, sauces, vegetables, and other Italian delicacies. They also shared a secret smile together as Harm paid the bill, knowing that the CIA would be picking up that tab.
As they made their way out of the restaurant that night, they didn't realize just how successful their charade had been. Two hazel eyes watched them leave, following every move they made and darkening with a promise for revenge.
It was nearly midnight when Harm and Mac walked hand in hand up to their front door. The CIA location was a cozy, peach-colored house with a small porch, a stone walkway, and flower boxes in the windows.
"Welcome home, husband," Mac murmured coyly, her fingers deftly loosening the tie around Harm's neck.
"Welcome home, wife," Harm played along, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her flush against his chest. It was a convincing act, and if anyone had been watching, they would have thought they were witnessing a husband and wife barely able to keep their hands off each other.
"You think anyone followed us?" Mac whispered in his ear.
"I don't think so," he replied under his breath, pressing Mac backwards against the door. "Monica, maybe…maybe we should go inside."
Once inside the house, Harm and Mac discovered that Webb and his people had furnished the place well. It was comfortable enough to live in but sparse enough to appear as if a newlywed couple had just moved in and not fully unpacked yet. There was an overstuffed loveseat with a small coffee table in the living room, and both the kitchen and the bathroom were stocked with appliances and basic supplies.
And when they made their way down the hall, they discovered an elegant master bedroom with a king-size bed, a patterned area rug, and two sturdy oak dressers.
On a typical assignment, Harm and Mac would have flipped a coin for the bed, but now that they were actually expected to share the bed, Mac's nerves skittered all over the place, just thinking about being that close to Harm.
Get a grip, Monica, she scolded herself.
Harm pawed curiously through the closet, examining the uniforms and civvies that the CIA had provided. He then inspected the dressers, opening one of the top drawers and quickly snapping it closed again.
Mac gave him a puzzled look.
"Wrong drawer," he said quickly. "I'm…uh, gonna go change."
As her partner disappeared into the bathroom, Mac reopened the top drawer. A warm flush spread over her face as she discovered a rather extensive collection of lacy lingerie. Taking a peek at the tags, Mac forced down the embarrassment that the CIA apparently knew the exact size of her undergarments.
A few minutes later, she heard the bathroom door open and her partner—she had to start thinking of him as her husband—emerged in his change of clothes. Or rather, his lack of clothes. At the sight of his bare chest and white boxers, Mac's mouth ran completely dry.
Oddly, at that moment she remembered that Harm's former partner, Commander Kate Pike, had once told her that Harm couldn't handle a partner who knew the color of his underwear.
So what does that make me?, Mac wondered. This certainly wasn't the first time she had seen Harm wearing practically nothing, and it made her heart race now just as much as it had then.
"Bathroom's all yours," Harm said, interrupting her thoughts.
As Mac selected some clothes from the dresser and left the room to change, Harm turned back the blankets and climbed into bed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillows. It was an exceptionally comfortable bed, more than large enough to accommodate his six-foot-four frame – but tonight he would be sharing his bed with Mac.
Monica, he corrected himself.
Harm let out a sigh, turning over on his side and tucking an arm under his pillow.
We've slept together hundreds of times, he told himself.
In the same room.
Never in the same bed.
Harm was still awake when the bathroom door opened and Mac shut off the light, illuminating the bedroom only in moonlight. He felt the mattress sink under her weight as she slid in next to him, and Harm rolled over just in time to admire the sight of his partner—not his partner, but his wife—wearing nothing but a sheer white negligee.
In a silent conversation through their eyes, Harm and Mac both assured each other that this was a necessary part of the job. Harm opened his arm, inviting Mac to move closer, and she did, surprised to find that she seemed to fit against his body almost perfectly.
And so Matthew and Monica drifted off to sleep easily that night, comforted by each other's presence as they finally let Harm and Mac and all of their awkwardness melt away.