Title: Little Fic or Spec the Halls Author: Dancer E-Mail: dancersgrace@mail.com Rating: PG-13 Classification: Best Holiday Story Best Shipper Story Spoilers: Answered Prayers Summary: Harm and Mac celebrate Christmas Eve ***** He was walking with her as they came in from the snow - not in any new way, but in their customary fashion - walking side-by- side with her traveling just slightly ahead of his shoulder. The heavy coats they wore against the evening chill glistened with an array of sparkling beads where fallen snowflakes had turned to rain. Harm was going on about the party and the service and how nice it was to see Captain Turner again, but Mac's mind was turning to more personal subjects. She knew Harriet meant well. Everyone knew Harriet meant well, but there was something about the mistletoe hung over the Roberts' front door that seemed a bit too obvious. Maybe it was the way the Lieutenant's eyebrows shot straight up or the hopeful gleam that brightened her eyes whenever Harm and Mac happened to wander over to that side of the room, but after a while, it got to be wearing. Mac found herself holding a position in the far corner of the living room just to avoid the speculation. She knew Harm would never kiss her in public like that. It was much too embarrassing. In fact, when they were leaving, he did a very nice two-step with a polka twist to avoid having them caught in that same doorway at the same time. It just wasn't Harm's style, and he wasn't going to kiss her. It was Christmas Eve and though Harm may have taken her out and brought her back home, it wasn't a date. They both knew that. But now, as they approached her apartment, their conversation took on a more self-conscious tone. A few feet from the door, Mac slowed to a stop. "Well, here we are." She said it in a matter-of-fact way, but her eyes glowed with an uneasy sort of anticipation. Harm looked to the doorway, then back to her face. "Yeah," he said quietly, and then fell silent. He looked almost shy. "I'd ask you in for some coffee," she began cautiously, "but Chloe's probably asleep by now. It might get a little awkward." "That's ok," he shrugged good-naturedly. "I, ah - I should probably go anyway." But he didn't. The two friends stood there in the hallway exchanging nervous glances, wondering what their next step should be. Their usual parting was a simple, "Good night," or a promise to, "See you tomorrow." Somehow, tonight, that didn't seem enough. They each had their hopes, but kept tripping over their reservations. Finally, Mac broke the silence. In a tone that befit the absurdity of the moment, she dubbed it, "Awkward moment number 310." Harm smiled briefly in recognition, then dropped his eyes to the floor. With his hands still stuck in the pockets of his overcoat, he looked like a reluctant schoolboy as he spoke in a hushed voice. "It doesn't have to be." Mac glanced up at him with surprise. "What would you suggest?" "Honesty." Harm was sincere enough when he said it, but Mac didn't seem too convinced. She was being patient with him. He tried to outline his strategy as if he were telling himself rather than her. (It was the only way to get through it.) "I think we should acknowledge that there's something between us," he explained carefully, but hastened to add, "It doesn't have to change anything unless we want it to." He waited tensely for her reaction, but Mac surprised him. "And what if we do want it to?" Her eyes were searching his with the beginnings of a sultry suggestion. "You mean like now?" he asked with an incredulous chuckle. "Yeah," she murmured softly, "like right now." As he stepped toward her, a slow smile crossed Harm's lips, and a devilish twinkle lit his eyes. "Well, I'd probably reach out and put my arms around you and..." The rest of that thought would remain unspoken at least in words. To an outsider, it might have appeared to be a casual Christmas kiss between two friends who'd gotten past the need for stuffy explanations, but for Harm and Mac, all the deeper meanings were being carefully conveyed by the touch of a hand or the way of a smile. They knew what was at stake. When Mac opened her eyes to whisper, "Merry Christmas, Harm," they were filled with all the tender warmth she felt for him. When Harm answered, "Merry Christmas, Sarah," the blue of his eyes was still and deep with only the hint of a curl at the corner of his mouth to suggest the pleasure he felt in her arms. When they kissed again, the new kiss was softer and more careful at first, but it grew. This was the kiss they'd waited for all evening. This was the kiss that didn't need mistletoe. All they needed was each other. The sound of a squeaking door caused Harm to crack an eyelid, but it was only when he saw the small blonde figure standing in the doorway that he broke the kiss. "Chloe, aren't you're supposed to be in bed by now?" Harm asked. "Yeah, but I heard voices," the girl insisted. "You mean you were listening at the keyhole," Mac replied knowingly. "Was not." "You know, Chloe," Harm advised her, "Santa can't come until you're asleep." "Oh, please, Harm," the girl wailed as she rolled her eyes impatiently. "I'm 14! I haven't believed in Santa since I was 8!" Dutifully chastened, Harm responded with a contrite, "Sorry." "You might as well come in now, Harm," Mac laughed. "I'll fix us some hot chocolate." As she passed the little imp in the doorway, Sarah tapped her on the back and said, "And you can come help me fix it, young lady." Once in the kitchen, Chloe was put in charge of the cookie arrangements while Mac handled the overhead reaching. As she was sorting out the oatmeal chocolate chips from the smaller Milanos, Chloe was heard to exclaim in disgust, "I can't believe Harm thought I still believed in Santa." Then, seeking solace from her "big sister" proclaimed, "I'll bet you haven't believed in Santa since you were 8, either." Mac wanted to be helpful, but when she gazed out into the living room and saw the tall, dark, handsome man making himself at home on her couch, she was struck with a different idea. "Actually Chloe," she mused, "I'm beginning to think there just might be a Santa Claus after all." And as Chloe moaned into the night air, Mac turned back to the business of making the cocoa with the most blissful smile on her face.