All the usual disclaimers: Bellasario Productions and Paramount own them, as much as we wish they didn’t, no money is being made from this effort...it’s all just for fun.


These Are Treats?


Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station
Sunday, Oct. 26, 2003
0930 Local

Grrr. What was that sound? GRUHUMPH. Oh, my stomach. I’m hungry. Guess that means it’s time to get out of bed. Oh, do I have to? I’ve got this really cute guy here and I’ll bet we could come up with some other things to do. GRUUHUUMP!!!! Ok, ok, I’ve got the message.

“Harm,” I try gently, knowing this won’t work.

He turns over. Well, at least he reacted.

“Harm,” with a little shake to his shoulder.

“Umhfoff.”

Well, it worked last time but I really hate to resort to this. “Attention on deck!” Yep, works every time.

Harm’s sitting up in bed, blinking and wondering what the hell is going on. “Mac, what are you screaming about?” he asks peevishly. He really can look a lot like a little boy when he wants to. Maybe even when he doesn’t want to.

“I’m hungry,” I announce, like that will somehow stem the discussion about us being in bed, having had sex, being a couple, declaring our undying love for each other. Hey, get your priorities straight.

“So am I,” he says as his hands start to move in areas that are clearly not designed for food.

As much as I want to play with him (ohh, do I get to play with him whenever I want to?) I’m hungry. A Marine hungry. A don’t stop me ‘til I eat hungry.

“No Harm. This is serious. I need to eat. NOW.” I hope he got that, what with the sleepiness and hormones.

All of a sudden his eyes break open. Oh, what a wonderful sight to see in the morning. “What time is it?” he asks, grabbing for his boxers even as he says it. I love this man. I’m going to love him more every day.
“0931 and 23 seconds.”

“Oh man, you must be starved. You haven’t gone this long without eating since....when? Afghanistan? I’m sorry. I’ll get you some food right away.”

Yes, I’m going to take all this in stride. Harm is jumping to take care of me and the world looks like a better place.

“Baby, I’m gonna make you a breakfast like you’ve never had before,” he exclaims as I plump the pillows behind my head.

‘Baby?’ No way Harm called me ‘baby’.

“Hey sweetheart, if you’d like after breakfast we can go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day outside.”

‘Sweetheart?’ Not in my lifetime. Not on this planet. Who has captured Harm and what have they done with him?

I carefully approach my prey. He is larger than me, and clearly not rational. He turns. “Mac, I’ve got some great orange-grapefuit juice, want some?”

Do I try to talk this impostor out of this strange facade or do I try to take him by force? I’m thinking discretion is the better part of valor.

“Harm, can we talk?” I back away a bit, just to be sure.

“Sure, Mac, but I thought you were really hungry. I think I heard your stomach growl a couple of times. So why don’t you sit down and we’ll have breakfast. You can talk while you eat.”

The lifted eyebrows, the little smile, the whole way his body is leaning toward me tells me this is Harm, not some pod-person.

“So, you really meant all that?” I’m out on a 50-foot limb here.

“Sure, sorry I don’t have bacon for you.” He smiles at me. OK if this is how it’s gonna be, I can handle it. He’ll be loving and affectionate, but won’t quite admit it. OK, I can deal with that. As long as he’s loving and affectionate.

“You know, I really like waking up next to you,” he says this with such a wistfulness it nearly breaks my heart.

I think this is going to work out just fine.