Just What The Doctor Ordered

Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station

God, I feel like shit. My body feels like someone drove a truck over me and then backed it up just for fun. I can’t ever remember being this sick. The whole week has been nothing but a total waste of time. Well, not a total waste. Our CO is alive and not nearly in as bad shape as when I found him. Especially since he has Meredith to "take care" of him. But now I have one hell of a bug of some sort. Pneumonia maybe? What ever it is I sure don’t have anyone to take care of me.

Hopefully though, the worst is over, whatever it is. For the first two days something very nasty had a hold of me. Now my bones and muscles ache like hell. The only way I can stop my nose from running is to lay flat on my back. To keep my mind off the discomfort, I’m channel surfing on the new TV Webb left at my place, while I hack my lungs up and feel sorry for myself. Right now I’m watching a soap opera. How pathetic is that? If Mac ever knew she’d never let me live it down.

I’m grouchy when I get sick. I can admit it. I like to moan and groan and bitch and complain. My language gets resurected right up from the gutter and my "officer and a gentleman" attitude takes a nosedive straight into the toilet. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have a girlfriend right now, even though it would be nice to have someone bring me stuff. But there aren’t enough drugs in the world that could ever make me wish that Renee was still here.
There’s a knock at the door. Who the hell could that be? Fuck it, I don’t want any visitors. I’ll just ignore...there it is again. Damn it! I roll off the couch and wobble over to the door.
"Yeah?" I grunt.
"Hey, it’s Mac! Got a care package for my sick best friend. Let me in!" she bellows.

Mac. Figures. I should have known she’d eventually show up. Her voice sounds so cheerful it makes me feel like losing what little I’ve been able to keep down today. "Hey yourself, Mac. I don’t know if coming in here is such a good idea. I’m a mess, the place is a mess, and there’s something very nasty loose in here."
"No way, Harmon. I’m not leaving till I give you this stuff. I don’t care if you’ve got the Plague. Now open the damn door."

Oh well, I tried. Maybe she’s got some homemade soup (I snort at the thought), or something for me to do besides sit here and slowly go insane. I crack the door open to let her in and cinch my robe as I head back over to the couch without waiting for her to enter.

C C C

Good! He let me in. I wasn’t so sure he would. My poor sailor can be a tad reclusive when he’s sick. But he’s been holed up in here for days now and I was really starting to worry about him.

The door to his apartment appears to open on its own. "Hey, Harm!" I call cheerily, all the while knowing it’s drives him nuts when I’m like this, before closing the door behind me and walking towards his kitchen. "Where the hell are you?" It’s so damn dark in here I can’t see anything.
"Over here on the couch. Dying." I hear a little coughing fit coming in the general direction of the living room area.

Good Lord! What a drama queen. I put the bag I’m carrying down on the counter and walk over to him. Harm is laying on the couch with his arm draped across his forehead, making no effort to greet me. He does look awful but still good enough to eat...well maybe not eat, but at least nibble on. Walking over to the end of the couch by his head I bend over I give him slight hug around the neck and a kiss on the side of the cheek. Don’t want to get too close you know, just in case. His skin is warm but it doesn’t feel like he has much of a fever anymore. "Good to see you’re still breathing, partner."

"Jesus, Mac," he grumbles, but doesn’t push my hands away. "Could you tone it down a bit. I’m hurtin’ here."
"Geez, Rabb. I wasn’t that loud." I laugh, not taking any offense. Harm is notorious for his bad moods when he isn’t feeling well. But I have to admit he doesn’t look good. His face is pale and he hasn’t shaved in a while, his nose is red and chafed, and it doesn’t help that he has a serious case of bed-head. Of course I still find him absolutely adorable. There is a collection of used kleenex in the waste can beside the couch, the box half empty on the coffee table- along with dirty dishes, empty seven up cans, newspapers and there’s a big bowl - which I assume wasn’t being used to make food - sitting on the floor next to him. Good thing I came over, I think to myself. He needs me.
"I’m sorry about the mess...and I must look like shit," he says after noticing me take inventory. Self consciously he starts to try and smooth down his wild hair. How cute is that?
"No problem, you poor sick baby," I say in my sassiest little girl voice. "That’s what I’m here for. You have to have somebody take care of you. I’ve got some treats for you and I’ll get your place cleaned up a bit while I’m here."

C C C

Amazingly I was right about the soup and Mac has brought me a couple of videos as well. Think she threw in "The Wedding Planner" as a hint I should get my love life together? I’m sure she brought that one for us to watch together, damn chick flick. The rest of the videos are okay though. She also brought me the latest copy of FHM, even though, in her words, it’s "cheap, tasteless crap." But ever since seeing that half-naked layout of the that actress that reminds me so much of Mac, I’ve been hooked.
"Thanks, Mac. I was starting to go insane just flipping channels." I better show my appreciation before she kicks my ass.

She looks over at the television and I see the smirk spread across her face. "I can’t believe you’re actually watching a soap. This is too much. I’m gonna have to tell Sturgis and Bud."
"You better not..." I start to threaten before another coughing fit cuts me short. I don’t want her telling our friends anything. It totally sucks that with us both working in the same place, we hang out with the same group. She knows almost everyone I know. Talk about your bad luck.
"God, you sound like you’re gonna hack up a lung. Can I get you anything?" she asks, truly concerned.
"Some of that soup would be nice," I say, and then groan. "Damn it, I wish whatever the hell this is would just go away!"
"Soup coming right up," Mac practically sings as she disappears into the kitchen. The sound of pots being moved around makes me wince. I feel like I have a world class fucking hangover. Pulling my robe tighter around me, I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious that it’s all I’m wearing. Christ, I really am in no shape to play the gracious host. But what the hell, it’s only Mac. She’s seen me in worse condition. She’s not expecting to be entertained. And not so long ago we saw each other naked. Okay, okay, almost naked.

I look over at her, buzzing around my kitchen and the smile spreads across my lips before I can stop it. I can’t help remembering that day a couple of weeks ago when we both saw more of each other than we ever had before. And that’s really saying something considering I saw her in that bikini she wore with Bugme on Manley Beach.

It was all perfectly innocent really. Mac was stuck over here late one night after one of our working dinners because of the abnormal winter weather that’s been hammering D.C. this year. It was really bad out and I didn’t think she had any business being out in the weather in her ‘Vette, which then of course lead to the "I’m a Marine, I can handle it" speech. Well, needless to say, I won the argument.

She stayed and along with it I got one of the most spectaculars memories I’ve ever had. One I had only dreamed about before. Mac coming out of my shower and walking into my bedroom covered in nothing but "little raindrops" as Renee once put it. In actuality it was raindrops and a strategically placed towel just covering the front of her, the silhouette of her bare backside completely visible. She obviously hadn’t expected me to be in there and I hadn’t planned on being in there. I thought I could change and get out before she finished showering.

Nope. She caught me with my pants down, literally. Thank God I at least had my boxers on...well, not really on. They just happened to be wadded up along with a pair of sweats and strategically placed in front of me. We just stood there and stared at each other. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Feeling myself getting aroused by the beauty before me, I stammered an apology, not even bothering to hide my bare ass as I fled the room as fast as I could before she could see the effect she was having on me. Even now the image stirs something primal in me.

"It’ll be ready in a few minutes," she says, coming back over to the couch, knocking me out of my memories. "So are you getting any better at all?"
"Nooo," I moan dramatically. "I stopped throwing up, and don’t have the runs anymore, but I hurt all over."

C C C

I almost laugh out loud at Harm’s predictable complaining. "Thanks for the very...um, vivid description." Harm snorts, acknowledging my disgust. Funny how a little bit of discomfort can turn a big, full-grown man into such a wimp. From my experience with past boyfriends, it seems to be a common transformation. "Come on, Harm, you were out in a blizzard. Tell me you didn’t expect to at least get a cold."
"A cold, yeah; the Black Death, no."
Oh brother."Here," I say, getting down on my knees in front of the couch. " The soup won’t be ready for a bit so let me give the poor, suffering invalid a little massage."

I give good massages. My ex-boyfriends and fiancé will vouch for that. And Harm definitely looks like he needs some kind of distraction. He rolls over onto his side slightly so that’s where I start. I bend over and start kneading the base of his neck and shoulders.

"Uhh," he grunts when he feels the contact and his eyes close. Okay, this seems to be working.

I’ve always loved Harm’s strong shoulders. I have a thing for good shoulders on a man. Nice, detailed shoulders. He’s always had an incredible body, even when he looked like a "stickboy". Harm works out and you can tell. I push my finger tips up into the back of Harm’s hair.

He grunts again, letting some of the tension drain out of his body.
"That’s it," I coo at him. "Just relax and let me work out some of those aches and pains."
"Mmm-hmm," he murmurs.
He has a nice, strong neck too.

C C C

Oh...my...God...that feels good! I almost told Mac to stop at first. My skin has that super-sensitive, almost-raw feeling to it, but the pressure on my aching muscles feels incredible. Christ, how long has it been since I’ve felt a woman’s touch? There is just something about that gentle-but-firm touch a man just can’t reproduce. And a woman seems to know how to find all the right spots. Oohhh yes...her fingers going up the back of my neck sends a wave of sensation through me.

And then I notice the warmth in my groin.

Holy shit! I think I’m beginning to get an erection... and this loose robe is definitely not going to hide it or hold it back. Great! Just great. Mac will notice it I’m sure.

For a split second I hover in limbo, wanting her to continue, but thinking I should stop her because I am going to be embarrassed if I don’t. And then, in one of those fateful moments where irreversible choices are made, I decide to stay still and do nothing about it. I’m going to get hard as a rock whether she stops or continues. So her touch is turning me on. So what? I’m sick, I feel like crap, and the massage feels soo good. If Mac can’t handle it, well that’s just too damn bad.

Somehow the decision speeds up my heart, which only makes me begin to throb and rise more quickly. All the feverish heat in my body seems to flood into my groin. Well that settles it; it’s too late now because I’m already there.

I hold my breath as Mac leans over further, her kneading hands moving slowly down my chest. Then she stops abruptly and then starts again. Jesus! She must see what she’s doing to me. It’s not like I can hide it