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Midnight Confessions
Author: Pixie Rating: G Category: Vignette (H/M) Disclaimers: J.A.G. doesn't belong to me. Harm, Mac, and the gang – they don't belong to me either. I'm just borrowing them for a little entertainment. Summary: Mac dozes off at Harm's apartment - with interesting results. AN: This is pure, unadulterated fluff. If you're looking for a plot, you've come to the wrong place.
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He watched her sleep. Dark lashes feathered a contrast against delicate skin, and lines of tension melted away, making her appear more peaceful then he'd seen her in weeks. Her lips, parted slightly, sang a siren's song, and he resisted their call only with great effort. She'd come over to work on a case with him, and they'd lost track of the passage of time, or at least, he had. He knew Mac never had that problem. Her uncanny ability to always know exactly what time it was used to unnerve him. Now it was just one more item on the long list of things he loved about her. A few minutes ago, he'd gotten up to make a fresh pot of coffee, and when he'd come back, he'd found her like this, her head tucked into a corner of the couch, the file she'd been reading laying forgotten in her lap. Several pages had slipped out of the folder as her hands relaxed in sleep, drifting down her legs and across the floor like so many forgotten autumn leaves. He bent to gather them together, careful not to disturb her. Mac was a light sleeper, always had been, and though she hadn't said anything, he'd guessed from the dark circles under her eyes that she'd been having more trouble than usual of late. He'd been worried about her, but he knew she wouldn't want to hear it from him, so he'd kept his peace. He finished collecting the loose pages, then eased the file from her hands. She murmured something unintelligible and her grip tightened momentarily, then relaxed again as her hands dropped to her sides. Quietly, he replaced the pages in the folder, and set it on the coffee table. He considered what to do next. He could wake her up and send her home, but that seemed pointless. This was a Friday night, and neither of them was scheduled for weekend duty. But if she stayed, things might be a little awkward in the morning. Their relationship was only just beginning to recover from the nightmare that was Paraguay, and he was a little concerned about how she'd react when she woke up on his couch. He decided the risk was worth it. He eased one arm beneath her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Lifting gently, he turned her, then laid her down again so that her head rested on the arm rest, her legs along the cushions. She curled on her side, tucking her feet against the back of the couch, and he remembered that she'd once complained about it being cold in his apartment at night. With this thought in mind, he went to the closet and took out a soft woolen blanket and an extra pillow. A few minutes later, he stood back and admired his handiwork. He'd managed to make her comfortable, complete with pillow and blanket, and all without waking her up. Not bad for a night's work, if he did say so himself. Mission accomplished, he walked through the apartment, turning off lights and lowering the thermostat. Before he went to bed, he crouched by her side, ostensibly to check on her, but in reality, he just wanted one more chance to look at her. He tucked the blanket gently under her chin, then reached to push a stray hair behind her ear, unable to resist trailing a finger across the rose petal softness of her cheek. His whispered words, barely audible in the night quiet apartment, floated through the darkness. "I love you, Sarah Mackenzie." Then he stood, lingered for one last look and turned away. Several minutes later, when the rustle of clothing and sheets was replaced by quiet once more, a pair of chocolate eyes opened. A gentle smile curved the corners of Mac's mouth. "I love you, too," she whispered. She tugged the blanket close, snuggled down, and drifted into dreamless sleep.
***** The End *****
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