Odd Man Out
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will. sigh Not even DJE.
Part One
I ponder his offer for a moment. His eyes, always expressive, watch mine in amusement, the muscles at the corners of his mouth twitching. He has always been arrogant, but his smug demeanor seems sure I won't guess correctly, and yet a little hopeful, as though he wouldn't mind being proved wrong.
Hell, I wouldn't mind either.
"Hmm…" I say, deciding to play his game.
Superbowl tickets, I mean, come on. Not to mention, the opportunity to attend the game with Harm. Just Harm and me. A nice day spent together, enjoying each other's company, far removed from work. Oh, and the game of course. Too bad the stadium is a dome. Snuggling close together to stay warm in an open stadium, sharing a blanket, might be a…
Okay, marine. Focus.
I run through a list of possible contacts, Webb, Bobbi, Renee, though I knew that one wasn't a possibility. Actually, I knew none of them were, but I couldn't figure out where Harm would get such prime seats so close to the Superbowl.
"I thought you were supposed to be sucking up to me. This feels more like a slap in the face."
"Well, whatever works," I reply, grinning.
"Try the positive approach," he advises.
He wants me to suck up to him.
Fine. Two can play that game. No way is he taking Sturgis. Sergei maybe I could concede, but I'm not about to give him quality time with Sturgis. Not after what happened with my stupid slip.
"Harm," I begin sweetly. The mischievous glint has returned to his eye as he gives me his full attention. "If you take me, not only…" I spin some yarn about our friendship. It's always good to remind one of the important matters in life, like spending quality time with your best friend.
"That's a very good argument," he says smiling. I can tell he liked the attention.
"Really?" I'm going to have to break out my number 28 Marshall Faulk jersey. Superbowl, here I c—
"But, Sturgis said the same thing this morning." He grins innocently at the expression on my face.
Damn him.
Harm looks smug as he takes another sip of his coffee. Something competitive in me begins to wind up, and I find myself unable to concede that I've been one-upped by the Rabb charm. Or Sturgis.
"Did he?" I ask, my voice cool. An idea is taking root and I'm pretty damn sure if I don't act on it, I'll be stuck sitting next to the Admiral and Bud come game day, and Harm…well, Harm won't even remember I exist come kickoff.
Harm nods, and flashes me a wide grin—a genuine flyboy smile, that I have every intention of knocking off his sweet face.
He turns his attention back to his coffee while I study his, okay, I admit, very handsome profile. He's freshly shaven and I can smell the mix of his aftershave and cologne, and an image of us tucked away together under a black and red-checkered flannel blanket huddling for warmth flashes through my mind.
Okay, desperate times call for desperate measures, Colonel.
"Well, I don't think Commander Turner is quite as persuasive as I am."
I lean forward and place a soft kiss against his smooth cheek, inhaling the sweet, masculine scent of him. My lips linger on his cheek for just a moment longer than they should given the circumstances, before I pull away. We're in the break room for Christ's sake, and I'm kissing a fellow officer, Harm, and--to be honest--not really giving too much of a damn.
At least I wasn't.
Now, I'm starting to doubt the wisdom of my battle plan.
Harm is frozen in place, looking much like one of the marble or granite monuments that dot the cityscape here in D.C. The Styrofoam cup containing his coffee is poised midair, and his eyes have lost their smug twinkle and have taken on a new expression—disbelieving shock.
I grab my own cup of coffee and hurry with as much dignity as I can out of the break room, leaving Harm to consider my…my…"argument."
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will. sigh Not even DJE.
Part One
I ponder his offer for a moment. His eyes, always expressive, watch mine in amusement, the muscles at the corners of his mouth twitching. He has always been arrogant, but his smug demeanor seems sure I won't guess correctly, and yet a little hopeful, as though he wouldn't mind being proved wrong.
Hell, I wouldn't mind either.
"Hmm…" I say, deciding to play his game.
Superbowl tickets, I mean, come on. Not to mention, the opportunity to attend the game with Harm. Just Harm and me. A nice day spent together, enjoying each other's company, far removed from work. Oh, and the game of course. Too bad the stadium is a dome. Snuggling close together to stay warm in an open stadium, sharing a blanket, might be a…
Okay, marine. Focus.
I run through a list of possible contacts, Webb, Bobbi, Renee, though I knew that one wasn't a possibility. Actually, I knew none of them were, but I couldn't figure out where Harm would get such prime seats so close to the Superbowl.
"I thought you were supposed to be sucking up to me. This feels more like a slap in the face."
"Well, whatever works," I reply, grinning.
"Try the positive approach," he advises.
He wants me to suck up to him.
Fine. Two can play that game. No way is he taking Sturgis. Sergei maybe I could concede, but I'm not about to give him quality time with Sturgis. Not after what happened with my stupid slip.
"Harm," I begin sweetly. The mischievous glint has returned to his eye as he gives me his full attention. "If you take me, not only…" I spin some yarn about our friendship. It's always good to remind one of the important matters in life, like spending quality time with your best friend.
"That's a very good argument," he says smiling. I can tell he liked the attention.
"Really?" I'm going to have to break out my number 28 Marshall Faulk jersey. Superbowl, here I c—
"But, Sturgis said the same thing this morning." He grins innocently at the expression on my face.
Damn him.
Harm looks smug as he takes another sip of his coffee. Something competitive in me begins to wind up, and I find myself unable to concede that I've been one-upped by the Rabb charm. Or Sturgis.
"Did he?" I ask, my voice cool. An idea is taking root and I'm pretty damn sure if I don't act on it, I'll be stuck sitting next to the Admiral and Bud come game day, and Harm…well, Harm won't even remember I exist come kickoff.
Harm nods, and flashes me a wide grin—a genuine flyboy smile, that I have every intention of knocking off his sweet face.
He turns his attention back to his coffee while I study his, okay, I admit, very handsome profile. He's freshly shaven and I can smell the mix of his aftershave and cologne, and an image of us tucked away together under a black and red-checkered flannel blanket huddling for warmth flashes through my mind.
Okay, desperate times call for desperate measures, Colonel.
"Well, I don't think Commander Turner is quite as persuasive as I am."
I lean forward and place a soft kiss against his smooth cheek, inhaling the sweet, masculine scent of him. My lips linger on his cheek for just a moment longer than they should given the circumstances, before I pull away. We're in the break room for Christ's sake, and I'm kissing a fellow officer, Harm, and--to be honest--not really giving too much of a damn.
At least I wasn't.
Now, I'm starting to doubt the wisdom of my battle plan.
Harm is frozen in place, looking much like one of the marble or granite monuments that dot the cityscape here in D.C. The Styrofoam cup containing his coffee is poised midair, and his eyes have lost their smug twinkle and have taken on a new expression—disbelieving shock.
I grab my own cup of coffee and hurry with as much dignity as I can out of the break room, leaving Harm to consider my…my…"argument."