Title: Valentine Surprise

Author: JAG Junkie (rondayoung@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG

Category: Romance (Harm/Mac)

Disclaimer:  They are (sadly) not mine.  If they were, we would have seen a nice, fluffy, shippery Valentine episode at least once.

 

Summary: Mac is home alone on Valentine’s Day when she gets a surprise visitor.

 

A/N: This is set on Valentine’s Day of season 7, after “Head to Toe”.  Therefore, wonderful episodes like “Lifeline”, “Jag-a-Thon”, and “Answered Prayers” have happened.  But this is before Bud lost his leg, before Singer was murdered, and before that awful Paraguay story arc.

 

Way back when I was single (*very* single), I had some pretty strong, negative feelings about Valentine’s Day--feelings I think Mac would have.  Because of that, I just felt like this story really needed to come from inside Mac’s head, so that is the way I heard it in *my* head.  So, this is the first story I’ve written in First Person Present Tense (my previous stories have all been Third Person Past Tense).  Besides, I think this makes it easier to experience the story as a reader, and wouldn’t all of us ladies like to live vicariously through Mac sometimes? LOL!

 

Because of the POV, I *know* I’ve broken some grammar rules here, but how many of us think in grammatically correct sentences?

 

A/N 2: There is a reference to a music station on the television.  I assume that most people know what this is, but just in case, here is a brief explanation.  Most cable television services and satellite services offer digital music stations, often as part of your subscription package.  There will be a range of stations that play only music with no commercials.  Each genre has a dedicated station, and most genres are represented.  The picture you see on your TV screen could be as simple as the name of the artist and song title, or could include information about the album, trivia about the artist, photos, etc.  It’s a wonderful thing if you don’t have good radio stations in your area, or if you are in the mood for a style of music that you do not have in your personal collection.

 

 

 

 

Thurs. Feb. 14, 2002  

Mac’s Apartment

Georgetown, Washington DC

 

I hate Valentine’s Day!

 

I storm into my apartment and close the door forcefully, as if I’m shutting out the world and all its sickeningly sweet, romantic happiness.  I’ve had enough of it for one day.  I’ve had enough of it for one week.  One month.  Heck, I’ve had enough of it to last me all year!  Just call me the Scrooge of Valentine’s Day.  Bah humbug!

 

I drop my cover, purse, and briefcase and make my way to my room to change into something more comfortable.  Maybe I’ll take a nice long bubble bath after I eat.

 

I was going to go shopping on the way home from work, but all the store windows were full of pink and red hearts, satin and lace, flowers…  Flowers.  I think every female at JAG must have gotten flowers today.  Every female except me, that is.  I expected Harriet to get flowers--she's happily married to a sweet, thoughtful man.  But flowers were also delivered to all the women in the office that I thought were just as alone as I am.  Even Coates got a dozen red roses!  I had no idea she had someone in her life.

 

Who started this blasted tradition of sending flowers on Valentine’s Day, anyway?  The National Association of Florists or whoever they are must have invented this stupid custom.  Just like the greeting card manufacturers invented all those silly holidays that no one really celebrates--like Sweetheart’s Day!  Isn’t Valentine’s Day enough?  Do we really need *two* holidays to remind people like me how very single we are?

 

My singleness was thrown at me every time a delivery came today and it wasn’t for me.  Not that I actually expected anything.  Who would send me flowers or chocolates or anything like that?  Certainly not Harm.  He’s just not really a flowers kind of guy.  And why would he choose now to start?  I knew all along he wouldn’t send me flowers, not even as a friend.  Because flowers on Valentine’s Day, no matter what their color, carry a loaded message.  The very nature of the date on the calendar gives a weighty meaning to anything done on this day.  So of course Harm wouldn’t do anything for me today.  We’re back at the beginning, after all, whatever *that* means.  Heck, *I* don’t even know what it means and I’m the one that said it!  So, our friendship remains firmly in place.  It’s the rock that grounds us.  I just hope it’s not the rock that blocks us.

 

I pull a pair of sweats out of my drawer and just as I am about to put them on, I realize they are red.  I refuse to wear red on Valentine’s Day!  So I throw them back in the drawer and grab a green jogging suit instead.  I quickly put that on and go to the kitchen to find something to eat.

 

I’m in the mood to drown my sorrows in ice cream, but I probably should eat something that resembles an actual meal instead.  Chips.  They’re made from potatoes, right?  Potatoes are a vegetable.  Therefore, chips are healthy.  I chuckle at my twisted logic and then I spy something at the top of my pantry.  *Tortilla* chips.  Even better.  They’re made from corn.  Yet another vegetable.  Now, I just need some salsa.  Salsa has tomatoes and onions in it.  Two more vegetables.  See?  I can be a vegetarian when I want to be.

 

I open my refrigerator and dig for the jar of salsa that I know is in there.  Aha!  Found it.  I wonder how old it is.  I open it and get my answer.  When it looks more like guacamole than salsa, it’s time to get rid of it.  I throw it in the trash and sigh.  Now, what do I do?  I need *something* to go on my chips.  Wait a minute.  I go back to my pantry and there sits my solution.  An unopened jar of salsa con queso.  Salsa with cheese.  Cheese is a dairy product.  If I keep this up I just might have a balanced meal before the night is over!

 

I heat up my queso, grab a can of diet soda (hey, I’ve got to cut calories *somewhere*!) and head to the living room.  I plop down on the couch and flip on the television.  After a few minutes of channel surfing, I realize that there is absolutely nothing on TV except a bunch of sappy, romantic movies.  It’s bad enough that love has taken over the shopping malls, does it have to hijack my TV too?  Don’t they realize that the people who want to watch this crap are out and about with their significant others?  Or else they’re at home finding *other* forms of entertainment that do *not* involve the TV.  Those of us who are home alone don’t want to be reminded that it’s Valentine’s Day.  Just give us a nice comedy or action movie, for cryin’ out loud!

 

Just as I give up and change the TV to a music station, I hear someone at the door.  Who on earth would be at my apartment on Valentine’s Day?  Maybe it’s Bud and Harriet and they’re desperate for a babysitter and so they brought AJ here, hoping I couldn’t refuse his cute little smile.  Reluctantly, I get up off the couch to find out who it is.  I open the door and am greeted by a dozen mixed roses and my favorite flyboy smile.  I’m surprised, to say the least.  I eye him curiously as he walks into my apartment.

 

“These are for you,” he says as he puts them on the dining room table.  He avoids my eyes and nervously looks anywhere but at me.  You’d think he’s never given flowers to a woman before!  They’re already in a vase so I know he put some time and money into this.  I’m trying to figure out what is going on and what it all means, when he shyly tries to explain.

 

“I…I’m not sure what your favorite color rose is…and I know that rose colors have different meanings and…well, I’m so good at saying the *wrong* thing that I felt sure I would pick the wrong color, so I decided to just go with mixed colors.  Is that okay?”

 

Okay?  You bought me flowers on Valentine’s Day!  Who are you and what have you done with my flyboy?  Well, I guess you’re not exactly *my* flyboy, because we’re…what are we?  With all these things running through my mind, all I can do is nod in affirmation.

 

Harm, satisfied with my response, goes into my kitchen.  I follow him, and it is at this point I notice that he is carrying a bag from a local Italian restaurant.  I find my voice again as he begins taking food out of the bag.

 

“Harm, what are you doing?  Why are you here?”

 

He stops unloading the food and turns to look at me fully.  “Mac, can’t a guy do something nice for his best friend once in a while?  I knew you’d be home and--”

 

“What?  You *knew* I’d be home!  Why would you just assume something like that?”  I cross my arms in defense.  I know he’s right, but I don’t like it.

 

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re not in a serious relationship with anyone.  I would like to think that if you were, I would know about it.  I saw your crestfallen look every time flowers were delivered to someone today.  Given the way you sulked around the office today, I already had my answer.”

 

“I did not sulk around today!”  Okay, that sounded a little more defensive than I intended.

 

He ignores my exclamation and continues.  “In order for you to have a Valentine’s date, you would have to have already been dating someone, because no one goes out on a first date on Valentine’s Day.  It is way too important of a day to start a relationship with someone.  You go on a first date on Valentine’s Day, you might as well go ahead and commit to a serious, long-term relationship.”  He shrugs nonchalantly and goes back to taking the food out of the bag and getting it ready to eat.

 

I am suddenly reminded of another conversation a few years ago about car shopping and buying rings.  The irony wasn’t lost on me then, and it’s not lost on me now.  He says you don’t go on a first date on Valentine’s Day unless you are committing to a relationship, yet he’s here with me now.  On Valentine’s Day.  Either he doesn’t think of me as a datable woman, or this is a first date and he is seriously ready to move forward with me.

 

Well, he *did* say once that ‘no man wants to be friends with a woman who looks like you’.  But then he just *had* to add that part about ‘except me, because I’m more like a brother’.  But, then again, when we were dancing he told me that he doesn’t think of me as a sister.  So are we brother and sister, or are we more? 

 

My mind goes back to that night on the porch.  When he kissed me.  And oh, how he kissed me!  That was not just a little goodbye kiss.  That kiss was full of passion, desperation, hunger, desire…  He definitely made me feel like a woman with that kiss.  And, come to think of it, he told me that night that when he looks at me, he sees a desirable woman.

 

So, I guess he really *does* see me as a woman, and not just the proverbial girl next door.  So what does that mean?  Are we really on a date?  Is he really serious?  Are we finally getting somewhere?

 

“Mac!”

 

I’m startled when I realize he is calling my name.  Loudly.  I snap out of it quickly and look towards the dining room where he is standing with a concerned look on his face.

 

“Are you going to stare into space all night, or are we going to eat?”

 

“Sorry.”  I blush and walk into the dining room.  I almost do a double take at the sight that greets me.  The table, already adorned with the flowers he brought me, is set with the prettiest tableware I have.  I had dimmed the lights when I started watching television and he has not bothered to turn them back up.  The TV is now set on the soft jazz station.  The rich aroma of the Italian food--“Food for Lovers” as I have often heard it called--fills the room.  And Harm.  Harm has pulled out a chair for me and is standing behind it motioning for me to sit down.

 

I smile and allow him to seat me.  As he sits down and we begin eating, my mind starts to think about how much this evening changed in just a matter of minutes.  This is the closest thing to a romantic, candlelit dinner that I have had in a long time.  Yet here we sit, I in my jogging suit, and Harm in a faded pair of jeans and a sweater.  Neither one of us is dressed up (although Harm looks much more presentable than I do), yet somehow it doesn’t matter.  As dinner progresses, we are relaxed and comfortable with each other, more so than we would have been if we had gone to a stuffy, fancy restaurant.  We laugh and talk, just like old times.

 

Dinner is over all too soon.  Completely at ease with each other, we begin to clear the table and wash the dishes.  Just when we are done and I begin to wonder if he has anything else planned, he pulls out two DVDs that I didn’t even know he had with him.  I have to laugh at my two choices.  One is a comedy and one is an action movie.  Just like I had wished for earlier in the evening.  I stifle my laughter and choose the comedy.  The mood of the evening has been lighthearted and fun, and I just want to continue that.

 

We make our way into the living room and I sit down while he starts the movie.  I’m pleasantly surprised when he sits down right next to me.  A little closer than normal, but still maintaining a respectable distance.  Hmmm.  Flowers, dinner, and a movie.  This is looking more and more like a date all the time.

 

After laughing together for an hour and a half, the movie is over and Harm starts to get up.  Impulsively, I reach out and grab his arm.

 

“Don’t go!” I blurt out.

 

He is more than a little surprised.  He cocks his head to the side and looks at me curiously.

 

I stammer out an explanation.  “This has been so nice, and I…we…are just having so much fun together, that I hate to see it end.  Let’s watch the other movie.”

 

He raises an eyebrow.  “Are you sure?  It’s kind of late and we both have to work tomorrow.”

 

“I know, but tomorrow is Friday.  We’ll have the rest of the weekend to recover from not getting enough sleep.  And besides, I haven’t seen the other movie either.  Don’t you want to watch it?”

 

“Okay, Mackenzie.  You win.  This time.”  He points at me playfully.  “I just hope I won’t regret this in the morning.”  The corners of his mouth turn up and he shakes his head.

 

As the second movie starts playing and we settle in together on the couch, I realize that we are sitting yet a little closer than before.  Now I’m *really* glad I insisted on the second movie.

 

This movie has some pretty intense action sequences and at times I unconsciously grab on to Harm’s arm.  When I realize what I’m doing, I quickly pull away.  Once or twice when that happens, I risk a glance at him.  He is smiling at me as I release his arm.  I blush shyly and return to watching the movie.

 

An hour and forty-five minutes later, the movie is over and I’m practically snuggled up against him.  He doesn’t seem to mind, as his arm is casually draped across my shoulders.  We’ve watched all sorts of movies together before, but it never ended like this before.  We both hesitate to move or say anything.  I could sit like this all night.  Finally, he speaks first.

 

“Well, I guess I should go.”  He sounds reluctant.

 

“Yeah.  This time it really *is* late.”

 

We both get up and slowly walk toward the door.

 

“I’m glad you came over tonight,” I say as he stops at the door, shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and turns to look at me.

 

“Me too.  I had a great time.”  He smiles that little half-smile that makes me melt every time.

 

We stare at each other awkwardly.  I feel like a nervous teenager at the end of a first date.  How many times has he been to my apartment?  And in all those times, when it was time to leave, he just walked to the door, said goodbye, and left.  Why is it so hard this time?  Why is it that I don’t want him to leave and he doesn’t seem to want to go either?  It must be because everything that happened tonight seemed as though we were on a date.  And dates usually end with…Oh my!…He really is going to…

 

He is slowly leaning down toward me and the magnetic force drawing me to him is irresistible.  Our lips meet tenderly…gently…sweetly.  It’s a simple kiss, but it speaks volumes.  This is unlike any other kiss we have shared.  This time, there is no miscommunication or confusion.  It isn’t a stolen act of desperation.  There isn’t even an outside reason forcing it upon us.  No, this time, *everything* is different.  This kiss seems to hold a hint of a promise of something more.  My mind can hardly comprehend the possibilities.

 

He pulls back slowly and smiles at me.  He squeezes my arm.  When did he put his hand on my arm?  He whispers goodbye to me and I whisper back.  I don’t trust my voice right now anyway.  With another flash of his smile, he is gone.  I shut the door behind him, lean back against it, and close my eyes for a moment.

 

I don’t remember coming into my bedroom.  I must have floated in here.  After all, I *am* on a cloud right now.  Cloud nine to be exact.  And clouds float, don’t they?  So, yep, I must have floated.  I go through my nightly ritual and climb into bed.  I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since he left.  In fact, I think I’ll still be smiling in the morning.  I don’t think I have to worry about nightmares tonight!

 

-----

 

Fri. Feb. 15, 2002  

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

 

I walk into JAG and hope that no one questions the silly grin I’m trying unsuccessfully to hide.  If what Harm said is true and I was sulking around yesterday, then the contrast is going to be obvious to everyone.  Because today I’m floating.  Or maybe I’m gliding.  All I know is that I’ve been on a high ever since Harm kissed me last night.

 

I deposit my stuff in my office and head straight for the break room for some much-needed coffee.  I slept quite well, just only for a few hours.  It was extremely late when Harm left last night and my heart was still racing as I got ready for bed.  It took me a while to calm down enough to go to sleep.  The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off.

 

So here I am: groggy, and yet totally giddy.  How is that possible?  Two words.  Harmon Rabb.  Only he could turn my world upside down and permanently change my attitude.

 

I’m standing here making my coffee when I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder.  I look up to see Harm reaching across me to get something out of the cabinet in front of me.  I can’t help but notice how dangerously close his face is to mine.  I really hope he didn’t notice my sharp intake of breath.

 

“Good morning, Mac.”  Wow.  Never have those words sounded so nice.

 

He gets what he needs and begins making his own coffee, but he is still standing *right* next to me.  I’m aware of his every move.  I feel like the sudden tension in the room is squeezing my lungs.  Well, maybe not tension, but there is definitely *something* in the room.

 

“Good morning.”  I speak barely above a whisper.

 

He stirs his coffee and speaks tentatively.  “Are we…uh…is everything okay?”  He glances at me, then back at his coffee.  I nod, but I don’t think he sees.  “Because…uh…I wanted to apologize…for last night.”

 

My heart sinks all the way down to my feet.  I feel as if I’d been slugged in the stomach.  This time, he *does* see my reaction and he immediately starts backtracking.

 

“No…uh…I don’t mean…”  He runs his hand through his hair in frustration.  “What I’m trying to say here is that I’m not sorry I kissed you, just that I’m sorry I assumed it was okay.”  His eyes are begging for my forgiveness.

 

I put my heart back in its place and smile at what he’s revealed.  Only Harm.  Ever the honorable gentleman.  I lower my eyes along with my voice.  “Couldn’t you tell by the way I was kissing you back?”

 

His eyebrows shoot up and just as he is about to reply, Harriet walks into the room.  We both immediately step away from each other.  Despite the physical distance we have suddenly put between ourselves, the tension in the room is still as thick as when he first came in here.  I send up a silent prayer that she didn’t hear what I just said.

 

Harriet looks at us oddly.  “Did you have a nice Valentine’s Day?” she asks in her chirpy voice that is just a little too happy for this early in the morning.

 

“Maybe.”  “I guess so.”  We both mumble at once as she looks back and forth between us.

 

In the midst of all the tension and my nervousness, I must have forgotten to hide my smile.  Harriet calls me on it.

 

“What put that smile on your face, colonel?”

 

“Nothing.  Can’t a girl be happy without having a reason?”  I hope that didn’t sound too defensive.  I don’t like the way this conversation is going.

 

“Not on the day after Valentine’s Day.  So who is he?”  For a split second, she glances at Harm, then back to me.  Now they *both* are looking at me curiously.

 

I make a show of rolling my eyes.  “Harriet, I don’t need to have a man in order to have a nice evening.  And I don’t need a man to make me happy in the morning.”

 

“If you say so, ma’am.”  She casts another knowing glance our way and walks out the door.

 

I look back at Harm and his eyes are wide open.

 

“Mac, did you just lie to Harriet?” he whispers loudly.

 

“I most certainly did not!  Everything I said was true.  I didn’t answer her question directly.  I never said I was alone last night.  And I never denied that someone was with me.  It’s not up to me how she interprets what I said.”

 

“Spoken like a true lawyer.”  He chuckles.  Then the tension from before resurfaces and we are nervously staring at each other again.

 

He hesitates, then speaks tentatively.  “So, are we okay?”  He is speaking low in order to avoid any prying ears that might be listening.  Because of that, his voice is smooth and oh so sexy.  Man, this is going to be difficult.  I swallow hard and muster all my courage.

 

“Harm, we are *definitely* okay.  We’ve been back at the beginning for way too long.”

 

A smile breaks out across his face.  “I agree.  So, I wouldn’t be out of line if I asked you out to lunch?”

 

Now I’m smiling too.  “Harm, you’d be out of line if you *didn’t* ask me out to lunch!”

 

We smile indulgently at each other, then reluctantly head back to our respective offices.

 

For the next few hours, I try to focus on my case files, but I fail miserably.  I just can’t keep my mind off of Harm.  I’ve never had this problem this bad.  Yes, he’s been a distraction before (just *look* at the man!), but now I’m pretty much worthless for the rest of the morning.  I can’t concentrate at all.  Thank goodness I don’t have court today!  Every thought goes back to him.  Everywhere I look I see him.  The fact that he’s just in his office next door and I can go over there and talk to him anytime I want is almost too much to handle.  I feel like a lovesick teenager.  My internal clock keeps reminding me of exactly how many minutes there are until our lunch date.

 

Finally, lunchtime arrives and we find ourselves at a nearby sandwich shop.  We’re in uniform, so any public displays of affection are taboo, but the smoldering looks we are giving each other are probably almost as inappropriate.  Since we’re in a public place, we avoid talking about *us* and where we are going with our relationship.  For now, we are just enjoying being together.  A few times, our legs brush together and I swear a visible spark passes between us.

 

When we get back to JAG, he follows me into my office and closes the door.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to my place for dinner tonight.  This time, I’ll actually cook instead of getting take-out from a restaurant.”  He looks at me with hopeful eyes.

 

“Well, if you’re cooking…”

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

I grin broadly.  “It’s definitely a yes.”

 

“Good.  1900 hours.”  He flashes me a flyboy grin and goes to his office.

 

Now, how on earth am I going to get through the rest of the day?  This morning was bad enough, when I was looking forward to just a lunch date.  In public.  In uniform.  *Now*, I have something much better to look forward to: a real date on a Friday night alone in his apartment.  My mind reels at the possibilities of where this evening might end up.  Oh, this is going to be a long afternoon!

 

-----

 

Fri. Feb. 15, 2002  

Harm’s Apartment

North of Union Station

 

I’m standing at Harm’s door and I’m nervous.  I’ve been here for dinner countless times, but this will be the first time that I’m here for a dinner *date*.  Yes, a real date.  With Harmon Rabb, Jr.  I think about how much things have changed in just twenty-four hours.  I reach up to knock on his door and I’m flooded with all sorts of conflicting emotions.  Anxiety.  Excitement.  Hesitation.  Anticipation.

 

He swings the door open wide and greets me with a flyboy smile.  He has a kitchen towel thrown around his neck and his face is flushed from standing over a hot stove.  What a sexy look for him!  How on earth am I going to be able to eat tonight when he looks like that?

 

I walk in and before I can take off my coat, he dips his head down and brushes a quick kiss on my cheek.  There is nothing I want more than to taste his lips again, but I have to admit that I’m relieved that he kept it simple and innocent.  If he had kissed me on the lips, it would have all been over.  The evening would have taken off in a much different direction and we might not have gotten to enjoy the meal he’s cooked.  I’m sure there’ll be time for that after we eat.  He helps me with my coat and heads back into the kitchen.

 

I sit down at the bar and watch him.  He explains to me what he has made for us.  He also tells me how *easy* most of it was to cook.  I suppose I could get offended that he cooked something *easy* for me.  If he hadn’t practically told me his recipes, I would have sworn that he had slaved over the stove all afternoon.  But I know Harm.  He didn’t tell me this to brag.  Nor did he tell me this to make me feel like I don’t deserve a complicated meal.  No, Harm feels he can tell me this because we know each other so well, we’re best friends…and something more, which I’m sure we’ll explore later.  And, he’s probably telling me this in the hope that it will inspire *me* to cook more often.  I guess I *will* owe him a home cooked meal after this.  Maybe I’ll still be here in the morning and I’ll make him breakfast.  Hmm, I *hope* I’ll still be here and…wow, what a thought!  Although, I probably shouldn’t go there yet.  First things first.  We have a meal to eat.

 

As he takes the food to the table, I notice that he has it set with lots of candles and flowers.  Somehow, I’m not surprised.  Harm has never been one to do things half way.  I knew that when he finally decided to move things forward, he would pull out all the stops.  So far he hasn’t disappointed.

 

Our dinner progresses nicely.  We laugh and talk like we did at lunch and last night.  When we’re both finished, I insist on helping him clean up.  As I reach into the cabinet to put away the last glass, he comes up behind me and places a hand on the counter on either side of me, effectively trapping me.  He leans down and nuzzles my neck.  If he keeps that up, I’ll be a puddle of goo before the night is over.  I believe this is the part of the evening where things really start to get interesting.  I slowly turn around to face him and his kisses follow me until his lips are on mine.  His arms wrap tightly around me and mine instantly go up around his neck.

 

I don’t know who started moving first, but it doesn’t really matter.  We somehow make it to the sofa without breaking the kiss.  He sits me down and leans me back against the armrest, his body now hovering over mine.  I pull him closer and he hungrily obliges.

 

I’m easily losing myself in the feel of his lips against mine, his arms around me, but what a place to be lost in!  I don’t ever want to be found again!  I’m *so* glad it’s Friday night and we have the whole weekend ahead of us, because I don’t want to leave his arms for a couple of days…or so…

 

I love Valentine’s Day!

 

*****