For Challenge #2
Using the lines:
- I'm just trying to make some sense out of these girls
- I'm just waiting on a friend
- Remember what I said
- I'm not waiting on a lady
Summary: Just another take on the time Mac met Mic at the airport.
Waiting
by Jaggie 107
Dulles International Airport
Arrivals Lounge
“Have you ever noticed…” began the man seated next to Harm, and the Australian twang reached his ears long before the words registered. Harm cringed slightly at the overloud voice.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, just musing, mate! I’m just trying to make some sense out of these girls…”
Harm glanced where the Australian’s finger pointed, and saw a group of teenaged girls giggling amongst themselves as they kept looking over in the general direction of Harm and his apparent ‘companion’. Harm managed a suitable reply, and nodded his head.
“They’re looking at you, mate…” the Australian twang broke loose again, and Harm sighed inwardly.
“I doubt it.” Harm, despite his dangerous looks, his ability to flirt outrageously, and his intimidating height, had an ‘inner child’ that most females unwittingly found themselves drawn to.
“Are you kidding? Wearing that flight jacket, no wonder those kids are going ga-ga over you; they probably think you’re some big-name film star.”
Harm gave a shrug of his shoulders and returned to watching the doors for the woman who had offered to pick him up after his weekend break.
“Are you waiting for a ride?” The Australian hadn’t given up.
“I’m just waiting on a friend; she’s running late,” Harm responded politely, wishing Mac would hurry up and find him. Mac had suggested beforehand that he should wait in the lounge so that it would lessen the chance of missing him at the main entrance. Harm had agreed reluctantly, knowing that the waiting would put him at the mercy of someone who would try to strike up a conversation. This time it was the Australian. Last time it had been the ‘dear old lady’ that had regaled him with tales of her surgical procedures that read like a laundry list. Mac had howled with laughter on that occasion. He was sure she’d do the same on this occasion too! With a sigh he turned to the Australian. Oh hell, if you couldn't beat them ...
“How about you?”
“I’m not waiting on a lady; more like some muscle-bound bloke called Mac, or so I’m told.”
Harm’s ears pricked up, and his sense of foreboding went into overdrive. Mac? It couldn’t be! Could it?
The object of his distress turned up at that very moment, still in uniform, and looking decidedly stressed. Not a good sign. Harm had been hoping Mac would be in civilian clothes – preferably the figure hugging jeans she was fond of wearing, with equally figure hugging…
“Harm! I made it, thank goodness! Sorry, the roads are so busy.”
“No problem. You’re here now. Mac…I…” Harm began to lead Mac away from the interested look that the Australian was giving them. Or rather, he was giving Mac a more than interested leer.
“I managed to get the time off to come collect you, on the proviso that I bring back the exchange officer. He was due in just before you. You haven’t seen anyone in uniform, have you?”
Harm shook his head, and Mac heaved a sigh of frustration.
“Oh well, grab yourself a coffee while I go chase down this guy, and then we can get going.”
“What’s his name?” Harm asked, and Mac stopped dead in her tracks, giving him a big grin.
“Brumby. An Australian, like the horses…” Mac began, just as the Australian in question got to his feet, his hand outstretched. Mac stared at the man who had intruded on her conversation with Harm.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, turning on her heel to search the nearby crowds.
“I’m Brumby,” said Mic Brumby, grinning as he took in the figure in the Marine-green uniform. As Mac stood on tiptoe to try to search the crowd, her skirt rode up slightly, and Harm scowled as he watched the leering expression of the Australian. Mac lowered herself and turned back to face Harm and Mic Brumby.
“You’re Brumby?” Taking in the casual, open-neck polo shirt, long sleeves rolled back, jeans and leering expression, Mac could be mistaken for believing the man was more of a lecher than an officer of the Royal Australian Navy.
“And you must be Mac. Pleased to meet you!” Mic put out his hand once more, and Mac reluctantly shook hands, and then attempted to shake loose from the grasp that lasted longer than a polite exchange warranted.
Harm coughed behind his hand, and Mac hid the grin that his barely-concealed expression of disgust had elicited. Turning back to Harm, she took perverse delight in introducing the two men. Mic grinned up at Harm.
“All this time we’ve spent sat next to each other, mate, and we’re practically co-workers!”
“You don’t say…” Harm muttered, and Mac gave him a light punch on the arm.
“Harm, be polite. Mr. Brumby is, after all, a guest in our country. Now, gentlemen, shall we get going? The drive back to JAG is going to be horrendous as it is, so I want the two of you to play nice while I drive.”
“You didn’t bring your car?” Harm queried, hoping that they would be able to dump the Australian on some unsuspecting cab driver. Mac shook her head, seeing the disappointment on Harm’s face and leaning close to murmur something. As she stepped back and glanced at Brumby, Harm’s face cleared to give her one of his familiar grins in response. Brumby caught the by-play between the two and realized that his interest in Mac, as a female, was as much likely to be reciprocated as with the muscle-bound bloke he’d earlier thought he was waiting for.
"Remember what I said ..."
Mac’s words had reassured Harm that once the Australian had been delivered to JAG Headquarters, he and Mac would be continuing to develop the relationship that they had begun on the night of Roscoe Martin’s death, seeking reassurance that Harriet and Bud’s unborn child was safe and well, and celebrating for themselves the birth of something more than just a friendship.
THE END
