A/N: This could happen anytime after Chegwidden’s retirement and before Cresswell showed up, which is exactly when it should have happened. Now repeat after me, We want it back, We want it back…..
His Smile
I’m on my way back from court when I peek in through his open office door, just to see if he’s still here. What I see stops me in my tracks, and makes me back up. I’m mesmerized, and I stand there staring at him. I haven’t seen it in so long I almost forgot what it looked like, but there it is, all of it, well almost all of it. I’d say at least eighty-five percent of it.
His smile, his glorious, happy, sunny, yummy, flyboy smile, the one I haven’t seen in…how long? Almost two years now….it’s been at least that long….since the beginning of the Singer affair….maybe even since Bud got injured.
I guess when something’s gone so long, you begin to forget you ever had it, but now that I see it again, the two-year loss is almost painful. Oh, it’s not the whole thing, like I said about eighty-five percent, but it’s a good start.
No, the whole thing would include his entire face, his beautiful lips spread wide to reveal his even white teeth, the tip of his sexy tongue just barely visible. It would include his cheeks spread so far to accommodate the smile that his ears move slightly. And his eyes, it would definitely include his beautiful soft green eyes that would sparkle like the sea under a midday sun.
See the smile we’ve seen recently hasn’t included his eyes, not at all, nor that little tip of tongue. Sometimes we don’t even see the teeth. Yeah, he smiles when the occasion warrants, even sometimes when he’s happy, or as happy as anyone sees him, but it hasn’t been the full thing. Not for ever so long.
I guess Mattie has gotten the best smiles, but even those are tinged with sadness, acknowledging that someday maybe soon he will lose her. Other times when he’s being friendly, or trying to join in, we get this sort of forced grin. It looks so uncomfortable I almost wish he would scowl. I call it his Kermie face, because he looks like Kermit the frog when he’s caught in an awkward or embarrassing situation.
I’m still standing there, just drinking in that smile, bathing in the reflected glow of it, when I realize he hasn’t acknowledged me. He’s leaning against the wall his arms loosely crossed, staring at something out his window. That beautiful smile is spread comfortably across his handsome face, making him ten times more gorgeous than he is at any other time.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me; maybe he wishes I would just go away. That thought hurts a little but I’ve learned something recently. I’ve learned to no longer put words in people’s mouths, or thoughts in their heads. I try not to apply my interpretation to their actions. It seems to be working. I’ve learned so much more about Harm by doing this.
So I take a chance. The chance that he’s so absorbed in whatever he’s looking at, he just hasn’t noticed me, and I walk across the floor. I’m not sneaking, nor am I making an entrance like a platoon of Marine’s. So, I’m a little surprised when I startle him.
“What are you looking at Harm?” I speak quietly. He jumps and turns. The force of his surprise almost unbalances me. Not that he’s bumped me, it was just sort of a group startle. I stumble backwards, but his flyboy instincts, that have not been hiding with his flyboy smile, make him react and catch me by the shoulders.
“Mac I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” he moves to block my line of sight. Is it deliberate?
“What were you looking at,” I try again. “You looked so happy,” I smile softly.
“Uh… nothing Mac,” he gets that deer in the headlights look.
“C’mon Harm, you must have been looking at something,” I coax as I push at him slightly.
He steps sideways to allow me to squeeze between him and the desk. The brush of fabric as our uniforms touch makes the color rise in my cheeks. Just that tiny breath of a touch, and I feel like a teenager bumping into the boy she has a secret crush on. Well, maybe it’s not so far from the truth.
I step to the window and look out, wondering what has made him suddenly so nervous. It’s coming off him in waves. Then I see, nestled in the tree outside his window is a small bird nest filled with baby birds. Mouths wide open, they are being fed by their mother sitting on a nearby branch. I watch entranced, as she takes turns stuffing food into each little upturned beak.
Suddenly I realize why Harm was worried, and I turn to him. He has that sort of trapped apologetic look.
“Mac I….” is all he can say, spreading his hands. He wants to tell me he’s sorry. He didn’t mean for me to be upset. It’s amazing how well I’ve learned to read his eyes, and the tone of his voice, the set of his body. I should have learned this years ago.
I smile at him, “It’s a lovely scene Harm. I can see why it brought a smile to your face,” I reply.
He relaxes slightly, takes a breath, and starts again. “Mac uh…” before he falters.
“I wonder what kind of smile you would have for a woman feeding her baby?” I ask gently. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“Oh Mac.…” he tears the words sadly from his gut, his look is both hopeful and resigned.
“Maybe your baby Harm,” I state trying to give him an opening, a hint.
“Mac I…” he looks from side to side, trying to find a safe reply, then he suddenly looks up at me again, and straight into my eyes. “Mac?” he asks, his tone contains the entire question.
I nod, encouraging him to continue.
“But what about….” he stalls out again.
“In remission Harm,” I reply, my smile broadening somewhat.
“Really?” His voice comes out with just the hint of a squeak, a joyous squeak. “That is….you mean….?”
“Anytime Harm,” then I realize this is sort of out of the blue. “That is if you still want….” I start to qualify.
“If I still….?” he interrupts. “Anytime?” he reconfirms. “Are you kidding?” He’s almost dancing now, as I nod my head, to answer his half-formed questions
I can read it in his eyes. “Maybe we could….that is….I mean….we don’t need to….aw Mac….” he begs for help.
I know the Harm part wants to be the gentleman, take it slow, give me time, all very proper, but the man down deep underneath would gladly strip off my clothes and start right here this very minute. The package is looking for something in-between.
“I was thinking maybe we could….uhm….discuss it this weekend Harm,” I suggest, with a coy glance through my lashes.
“This weekend?” he verifies. His face is beginning to soften, the smile is taking over, growing more evident by the second.
“Yeah Harm,” I tease him now. “That is if you’re not busy.”
“No I’m not busy,” he starts seriously, then he realizes I’m teasing him. “And if I was, I’d cancel it,” he adds in a low purr. His smile spreads across his face, reaching full flyboy status, and gains an element of sensuality.
“Good,” I agree, looking straight into his sparkling sea green eyes. ‘There it is, that little tip of tongue, what I wouldn’t give to….’ but my thoughts are interrupted.
“Uh….Mac, shouldn’t we.…that is, I mean,…shouldn’t we at least have a date first.” The smile has gained its former glory, and I put it there. I could absolutely dance.
“Okay Harm,” I agree, “You can buy me dinner tonight. Will that work?” I ask.
“That works perfectly,” he replies, as our smiles reach a matching intensity.
We both turn back to the window. I feel his hand slip around my waist as we stand together, watching the mother bird finish feeding her babies.
End