Title: Disturbing Behavior I: The Kiss

Author/pseudonym: Caroline Crane

Fandom: JAG

Paring: Rabb/Webb

Rating: PG13

Status: complete

Archive: yes to list archives

Series/Sequel: there will be a sequel eventually, hopefully only one

Disclaimers: JAG and its characters are owned by CBS and Bellasario productions and I truly hope they never stumble upon my little tongue-in-cheek homages to them.

Notes: The entire concept of this fic was inspired by the light in my downstairs bathroom. Don't ask. I tried to bail on it 3 pages in, but Rachel wouldn't let me. So really this is her fault.

Summary: Harm gets knocked out and hallucinates kissing Clay. Silliness ensues.

Warnings: I should warn you that this is a ridiculous premise and an even more ridiculous chain of events ensues from the premise. I'm truly, truly sorry. I'll try to make it up with smut in the sequel.

Disturbing Behavior I: The Kiss
by Caroline Crane
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The electric hum of florescent lighting was the first sound to penetrate Harm's senses, a low groan escaping his throat as he tried to move his arms. He blinked but his eyes wouldn't open; in fact the only sense that seemed to be working at all was his hearing. The vague, far-away sound of a voice penetrated the fog in his head and he focused on it, straining to recognize the voice floating steadily closer.

"Rabb. Rabb, are you with me?"

A hand landed on Harm's face, but the only sound he could manage was a low, tortured moan. He wanted to wince at the needy sound, but he couldn't even work up the energy for that. This had to be a dream, because the only time those hands he'd fantasized about so many times ever touched him was in his dreams. He knew the voice, too, only it was infused with concern and that *never* happened outside of his dreams. It never happened in his dreams either - normally that voice was husky and urgent when he dreamed it - but he was willing to go along with this strange dream where he couldn't move his limbs or speak. As long as the voice kept murmuring to him in low tones and the hands were moving on his face and neck he didn't ever need to wake up.

The voice was a little louder now, and if he concentrated he could almost feel the hot breath on his cheek. It was so hard to focus, though; so hard to do anything, really, except lie there and listen to words that didn't make any sense to him. He thought he heard his name, but he wasn't even sure of that anymore. All he did know was that in his dreams the whispers and gentle touches were usually a little more urgent by now. He tried to clear his throat, experimenting with his control over his own vocal chords.

The only sound was a wheezing gasp, and he realized too late that his whole head felt like it was on fire. So talking was out, but he'd never been much of a talker anyway when it came to the bedroom so that was okay.

Somewhere in the back of his mind something was nagging at him; some small kernel of thought he couldn't quite focus on long enough to make sense of, something about his own bed feeling much softer than whatever he was lying on. He moved his hand to feel whatever was supporting him, surprised to find that his hand actually moved that time. Encouraged, he reached out to the body leaning over him, letting his hand fall clumsily on a shoulder and tugging forward.

"Rabb, what are you.?"

That was as much as he heard before he forced his eyes open, focusing on the face that was poised just inches from his. He managed a weak smile at the confusion staring back at him and surged forward, pressing his lips to a mouth he'd dreamed about so many times and in so many ways he couldn't even count them anymore. The last thought he registered was triumph at getting his body to work with him in spite of the fact that it felt like there was a weight on his chest, then the world faded to black.

~

"Sir, is he.oh my God."

Clay froze as the voice behind him trailed off in horror, not bothering to turn and see the expression on the other man's face. He gently eased the man that had more or less thrust himself into Clay's arms back down onto the floor, careful not to hit his head any harder than Rabb apparently already had. There could be no other explanation for it, and Clay's sense of self-preservation resolutely refused to believe otherwise.

Slowly he straightened up and turned to face Bud, swallowing the urge to smirk at the confused-and-vaguely-disgusted expression. "He's obviously delirious, Roberts. Don't just stand there, help me get him out of here before we all get killed," he snapped, taking comfort in the fact that Bud moved automatically at the sound of the order. If nothing else the military made sure they trained their soldiers to jump when they were told regardless of distractions. And this, he guessed from the wary look Bud flashed Harm as they pulled the taller man to his feet, was definitely a distraction.

It was a situation that could be dealt with; that much Clay was sure of, he'd been trained to deal with exactly these kind of things. Of course it wasn't every day the gorgeous ladies' man of the JAG Corp kissed him, but it was only because Rabb was hallucinating. He probably had a concussion, and when he woke up all he'd remember was a splitting headache and possibly the blow that had knocked him out in the first place. He certainly wouldn't remember kissing a CIA agent he didn't even like while he was clearly out of his mind.

Neither of them said anything as they half-carried, half-dragged Harm down the concrete corridor and out of the building. Not until they were outside and safely away from any potential danger did Clay even let himself breathe, and he still couldn't let himself relax. He couldn't relax until everything was tied up, every loose end taken care of and Harm - no, Rabb - was out of
danger.

It was his own fault he was in danger, of course. He'd brought it on himself just like he always did, by taking matters into his own hands and sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. Clay had tried to warn him off the case, told him to settle and forget he ever heard the name Reginald Dawson. He couldn't tell the lawyer that Dawson wasn't really a petty officer, but a fugitive who'd changed his identity so many times that the government had been tracking him for years. The fact that he'd stolen his most recent identity from an AWOL sailor was just dumb luck for the government, but when he was picked up on a routine traffic stop and brought before JAG things had spun out of control more quickly than even the CIA could stop them.

Rabb's insistence on going after the guy when he escaped from custody had resulted in a botched arrest by the CIA, and what was most likely going to be a decent-sized lump on the back of Rabb's head. "He's lucky to be alive," Clay muttered as he helped Bud lower the solid man to the ground. "If Brennan had a gun he'd be dead."

"I thought his name was Dawson, sir," Bud said automatically, his cheeks flushing as he met the other man's gaze.

Clay affected an irritated snarl and rolled his eyes, hoping he could put on a good enough show to sell Bud what he was assuming was the truth. "Christ, Roberts, don't look at me like that. I told you, he was hallucinating back there. He didn't know who I was, he probably thought I was McKenzie or one of his other conquests."

"The Colonel and the Major haven't.at least not that I know of." Bud trailed off at the glare Clay shot him, snapping his jaw shut and looking down at his superior officer's face as Harm began to murmur under his breath.

"I don't need to hear the details of Rabb's love life," he barked, wincing at the harsh quality of his voice and hoping Bud would just chalk it up to his lousy disposition. The less JAG thought of him the easier it was to do his job, that's what he'd been telling himself for years. "The man you all thought was Reginald Dawson is actually Andrew Brennan. He's wanted for several counts of selling government information, along with the murders of two of his fellow FBI agents. He was fairly high up in the Bureau before he went bad."

He watched Bud's face twist into something like righteous indignation for a moment, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge as he waited for Bud to challenge his decision to keep JAG in the dark about the man's real identity. For once Bud wisely chose to bite his tongue, however, and Clay wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. It wasn't that he didn't like the lawyers that made up JAG; on the contrary, he liked some of them very much. He stopped himself just short of actually raising his fingers to his lips, telling himself he didn't regret the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to kiss Rabb back before he passed out again. It would have been taking advantage anyway, and while Clay had no problem taking advantage of Rabb in a professional capacity he wasn't about to do it in more intimate circumstances.

As soon as his mind shifted to the possibility of intimate circumstances involving him and the man lying unconscious at his feet Clay cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. He dug out his cell phone and called for an ambulance, then dialed his office and barked a quick update on the situation. He had faith that the agents working for him would track Brennan down before he got far, but he wasn't about to take any chances with the lives of the two JAG lawyers. Even if they stubbornly insisted on throwing themselves in harm's way every chance they got.

~

"Bud, thank God," Harriet breathed, her cheeks flushed against the crisp white collar of her uniform as she rushed off the elevators and into the hospital's waiting room. Bud reluctantly tore his gaze away from the CIA agent pacing in the corridor, willing away the memory of the his friend and fellow officer cradled in the man's arms. He turned to face his wife, managing a feeble smile as she threw her arms around him. "I was so worried when I heard someone was hurt."

"I'm fine, Harriet," he assured her. "It's the Commander. Dawson - Brennan - whatever his name is, he knocked out Commander Rabb and ran. We found him unconscious."

"Is he alright?" Harriet asked, pulling away from Bud to take in his distracted expression.

"What? Oh, yeah, the doctor says he'll be okay. Probably has a concussion."

"Bud, are you sure you're okay?"

He frowned as he realized he was staring at Clayton Webb again, watching the man argue with someone on one of the hospital's pay phones. He blinked and looked down at his wife again, debating whether or not to tell her what he saw. On the one hand the Commander was his friend and he didn't want to gossip, but if he didn't tell *someone* he was going to go crazy. Mr. Webb had told him again on the way to the hospital that the Commander was probably just hallucinating, but as much as Bud wanted to believe it he just couldn't get the image out of his head. Maybe saying it out loud to someone else would help; he could trust Harriet not to run to Commander Rabb and tell him what Bud saw. Anyway, he was pretty sure it didn't count as gossip when you only told your wife.

"Bud?"

He opened his mouth to blurt it out, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Mr. Webb and the expression on the other man's face. Clay was watching him, and Bud could almost hear the other man warning him not to say anything. He wasn't sure why Webb would care if Harm really had been hallucinating, but he snapped his jaw shut anyway and sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs behind him. "I'm fine," he muttered. "Just tired."

Harriet sat down next to him and began fussing over him, but he hardly heard her steady stream of chatter as she felt his forehead and talked about how brave he'd been to go after the Commander. The fact was he hadn't really had much of a choice, he was the only one that knew where Harm went and Webb more or less compelled him to navigate the rescue attempt. If he'd know the Commander was going to need rescuing he never would have let him go alone, but as far as they knew Petty Officer Dawson was just an AWOL sailor trying to get out of desertion charges. He wasn't sure even Harm would have gone after him alone if he'd known the man was wanted for murder and espionage.

~

The next sound that penetrated Harm's subconscious was the steady beep of some sort of monitoring device, and this time when he tried to blink his eyes open he found himself in a hospital room. Everything looked bleached, from the crisp white sheet covering him to the scuffed linoleum leading to the closed door of his room. He tried to move and groaned at the sudden sharp pain in his head, collapsing against the stark white of his single pillow as he waited for the stab of pain to subside.

He felt.bad. No, not just bad, he felt truly and completely horrible. Like he'd been run over by a train or somebody had dropped one of those cartoon anvils on his head. The worst part was that he couldn't remember anything - not what he was doing in the hospital, how he'd gotten there or what had caused a pain in his head so horrendous that he couldn't move without wishing he was dead. He hadn't felt like this since that last frat party when he was still an undergrad. Then again, this might be even worse than waking up mostly naked and in bed with three - or was it four? - other guys, because at least he remembered how he got there that night.

It was a good thing he didn't actually attend that college or people might have talked.

He remembered just in time not to shake his head to chase away the thought, occupying his brain instead with trying to recall any details of the events that had landed him in this particular bed. He didn't have much more on than he had that morning back in college, but he was definitely alone and somehow that just seemed.wrong. It seemed like there should be someone there with him, although who he couldn't say. Of course he knew who he *wanted* it to be, but that wasn't going to happen so there was no use thinking about it. Still, it felt like something had happened.like he'd done something. The harder he thought about it the fuzzier the memories got, so he finally gave up and willed his mind to go blank.

He'd almost achieved that elusive Zen-like state of not thinking about anything at all when the door to his room opened, shattering his first and most likely only attempt at meditation. It wasn't really making him feel better anyway, and all that concentrating on not thinking was making his
head hurt even worse. So he was almost grateful to look up and find Harriet rushing toward him, worrying her lower lip as she stopped next to his bed and looked him over. She was his subordinate, but for some reason whenever she was worried about something Harm always had a hard time remembering she wasn't his mother. "Hi, Harriet. Where's Bud?"

"He's right." She trailed off and glanced behind her, gesturing impatiently at the man lurking just inside Harm's door and looking more than a little uncomfortable. "Bud, what is wrong with you? You're so pale. Maybe I should get the doctor."

Harm wasn't sure if he should be insulted that she'd stopped fussing over him before she even started, but Bud was her husband and if something had happened to him Harm couldn't begrudge him medical care. "Lieutenant? You alright?"

Bud nodded jerkily and inched a little further into the room, his formerly pale skin beet red as he met the Commander's gaze and then looked away again. "Fine, Sir. How.how are you?"

"My head's killing me," Harm groaned, leaping at the opportunity to steer the conversation back to the subject at hand. "And I can't move without wanting to pass out again. What the hell happened to me?"

If it had been possible for Bud to turn any redder he would have then, Harm could see how uncomfortable he was just from the way he kept fidgeting with his hat. "You.you don't remember, Sir?"

Harm started to shake his head before he remembered what a bad idea that was, wincing and closing his eyes against the wave of pain. When he finally opened his eyes again a full minute later Harriet was halfway across the room, engaged in a whispered argument with her husband. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he assumed she was trying to find out why her
husband looked like he thought Harm might be contagious. "If you guys need some privacy I can go," he said, laughing weakly at his own joke.

When Bud and Harriet turned back to him neither of them looked even vaguely amused by the lame joke, though. In fact Harriet looked almost regretful, and Bud was still beet-red and apparently incapable of meeting Harm's eyes. "Sorry, Commander," Harriet said, "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's been acting like this since I got here, it must be because Mr. Webb's still out there. Bud, did Mr. Webb try to blame this on you? You know the Admiral."

"No," Bud interrupted, misery clear in his voice as he ventured a glance at Harm. "I don't want to talk about it."

"If it has something to do with Petty Officer Dawson I think you should tell me," Harm said. "It's still my case, and I'll be out of this bed to deal with Webb as soon as the doctor gets back."

He'd never seen Bud's face turn quite *that* shade of purple before, and he was pretty sure he'd been witness to most of Bud's most embarrassing moments in the time they'd known each other. So either he'd messed up something about the Dawson case and he didn't want to admit it, or Webb had said something really insulting to him. Harm let out an exasperated sigh, wincing against a fresh wave of pain as he wondered why Clay had to be such a jerk all the time. He knew it was just an act.well, he was pretty sure, anyway. At least he'd spent a lot of time convincing himself it was, and if he could imagine it then it was possible that it was true. "If he's still out there then just go get him and send him in. I want to talk to him about keeping me in the dark again anyway."

"That's not a good idea, Sir," Bud said, looking everywhere but at Harm as the tips of his ears turned red.

"That wasn't a request, Lieutenant," Harm growled, forcing himself not to grin at the fact that he could still sound authoritative even when he was lying flat on his back in one of those little hospital gowns. It was a skill he'd worked hard on over the years, and although he usually wasn't wearing anything at all when he practiced he was impressed with himself that it could work with co-workers too.

"You don't understand, Sir."

"Bud," Harriet gasped, although Harm wasn't really sure why. It wasn't like anyone at JAG was particularly adept at following orders, and nobody ever did it without questioning them at least once. Even the Admiral probably stood in front of a mirror at night to practice his glare in a vain effort to cut down on the number of times a day he got second-guessed.

"Bud, what's the big deal about talking to Webb? Obviously he knows something about this Dawson, he's been badgering me to cut a deal and back off for over a week. Just go get him and we'll find out why."

"But sir."

Harm rolled his eyes, thankful that at least that small amount of movement didn't set off the jackhammers in his head. And where the hell was the nurse with some painkillers? If he was going to lie in a hospital bed all afternoon the least they could do was give him something for his headache. "Spit it out, Lieutenant. Why shouldn't I talk to Webb?"

"BecausewhenIfoundyouyouwerekissinghim," Bud mumbled in one long breath. His gaze was firmly fixed on the linoleum in front of him, and even though Harm saw his lips moving he had no idea what he'd said. Harriet seemed to understand Budspeak, though, because her eyes went wide and she was turning back and forth between them, her mouth hanging open. And that was novel all on its own, because Harm was pretty sure he'd never seen Harriet at a loss for words.

"What was that?"

Bud glanced up sharply, his eyes pleading as though he was desperate to not have to say whatever it was again. He was redder than Harm had ever seen him, and when he opened his mouth the only sound that came out was a tortured groan.

"Sir?" Ah, Harriet, the voice of reason. Well.she'd have to do. Harm shifted his gaze to the blonde standing at the end of his bed, her eyes still wide as she stared back at him. "Sir, did you really kiss Mr. Webb?"

~

It had taken Harm a long time to convince Bud and Harriet that Webb was right and Harm had been hallucinating. It had taken him even longer to assure Bud that he wouldn't mention anything to Webb, as though Harm really wanted to broach the subject with him. Even if he wanted to talk about it what could he have done? Driven over to Clay's townhouse and apologized for grabbing him and kissing him while he was delirious? And anyway Clay was right, Harm had been hallucinating. Granted he wasn't hallucinating about a woman the way Clay thought he was, but it was a convenient excuse and it wasn't Harm's fault that the object of most of his fantasies happened to be the one to find him. Hell, if Bud had been there first he might have kissed him.

That thought made Harm laugh and then promptly reach for the prescription-strength Tylenol. He still didn't remember being knocked out or even what happened after he got to the warehouse Dawson had run into, but he vaguely remembered waking up when Webb found him. He remembered hearing Clay's voice anyway, and although at the time it had seemed like a dream it turned out that the other man had really been talking to him in that low, concerned tone. So it was an honest mistake. Could have happened to anybody.

Yeah, any gay Naval officer with a stupid crush on someone he wasn't even supposed to like.

Still, that meant he'd kissed Clayton Webb. He'd kissed the object of his fantasies, that impossible, irritating man that couldn't possibly be as cranky as he pretended to be. No one as smart as Webb could really be that annoying, Harm was sure of it. He just wished he could remember what it felt like to kiss him.

Thankfully he and Harriet had finally managed to convince Bud that Webb was right, that it was just a case of mistaken identity and it could have happened to anyone. Of course Bud might have finally acquiesced only so he didn't have to hear the rest of Harm's hypothetical scenario about a delirious Bud mistaking Tiner for Harriet. But hey, whatever worked. At any rate neither of them had spread the news about Harm's bout with mistaken identity around the office, and for that he'd be forever grateful. He could just imagine what the Admiral would say if he found out Harm's lips had been anywhere near Webb, and then there was Mac. Not that he had any intention of getting involved with her, but stringing her along was in his best interests until he found another woman he could pretend to be interested in.

Considering his pattern of serial monogamy would have to wait, though, because he'd been summoned to the Admiral's office almost the minute he walked into JAG. He still had a tender spot on the back of his head, but at least he'd been able to take the bandage off after the second day. Hanging around at his loft wondering what Webb thought of the kiss had been driving him crazy, so he was glad to be back at work even if it meant getting chewed out by the Admiral. He sighed and stepped out of his office, making his way toward Tiner and forcibly turning off his flirtatious grin. He never flirted with Tiner. Everybody else, sure, but flirting with a hot co-worker that might actually be interested was never a good idea.

"Is he ready for me?"

"He's waiting, Commander. You can go on in." Harm nodded and turned toward the Admiral's door, taking a deep breath before he pushed it open and let himself in.

"Sir? You wanted to.see me?" The last two words came out in a strangled whisper as he caught sight of the third occupant of the Admiral's office.

"Something wrong, Commander?" the Admiral asked, looking up from his desk long enough to glare at Harm.

"N-no, Sir," Harm stammered, praying that his legs wouldn't give out before he reached the chair next to Clay's. Okay, so Webb was here to bitch about Harm interfering in CIA business, that was nothing new. He could handle this. Just because he'd kissed him didn't mean they couldn't have a work-related conversation. Of course this would all be easier if he could remember whether or not Clay kissed him back.not that that was possible. If Clay was attracted to men at all he certainly wasn't interested in Harm, unless for some crazy reason his years of rude behavior were tantamount to a grade-school kid punching the girl he liked on the arm and making her cry. Harm couldn't even let himself entertain that possibility, though, because he was already in enough trouble without wondering if Clay was attracted to him. He'd just have to ignore the kiss, that was all he could do. Just pretend he didn't remember it, Webb would never bring it up so he wouldn't either and everything would go back to normal. Eventually.

Admiral Chegwidden cleared his throat and Harm looked up sharply, guilt and embarrassment coursing through him as he realized he'd managed to lose a few seconds. At least he hoped it was only a few seconds, and he hoped he hadn't spent them staring at Clay. "Are you feeling alright, Commander? That bump on the head do more damage than I'm aware of?"

"I'm fine, Sir," Harm said. He didn't sound convincing even to himself, but with Clay sitting less than two feet away from him there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Good. Then perhaps you can explain the idiotic behavior Mr. Webb's been telling me about."

Harm knew he couldn't be talking about the kiss; there was no way Clay would mention that to anyone, let alone the Admiral. And even if he was trying to ruin Harm's career, he'd already given Bud a perfectly rational explanation for what happened. "Sir?"

A heavy sigh escaped the Admiral's throat as he rubbed his temples and looked down at his desk. Harm wasn't sure, but he could almost swear he heard the older man mutter something about babysitting and retirement before he looked up again. "You want to explain why you went after a wanted man - alone, I might add - unarmed? And how the hell did he knock you out?"

"I.I don't really remember, Sir," Harm answered, his temperature creeping up a few degrees at the expression on his CO's face. He knew how well that answer would go over, but it was the truth. "At the time I assumed the Petty Officer was fleeing the desertion charges. I had no idea who he really was." He cast a sharp glance over at Clay, but the other man's gaze was focused straight ahead as though he was bored with the entire conversation. In fact he hadn't said a word since Harm walked into the office, which was unusual considering this was exactly the kind of situation Clay usually tried to use to his advantage.

"Not that I'm condoning Rabb's behavior," Webb said, glancing pointedly over at Harm for the first time since he'd walked into the room, "but it is true that I never told him how dangerous Brennan is. I should have known his stubborn streak would outweigh his common sense."

"Common sense? I was prosecuting him for desertion, not murder," Harm shot back, his voice rising an octave as Clay stared back at him.

"The CIA asked you to leave it alone, Rabb. That should be good enough for any military officer, but you people seem to think you're above the chain of command," Clay snapped. "I'd say that I hope Brennan knocked some sense into you, but I'm sure that's impossible. Admiral, I trust that you'll deal with this?"

"I deal with my people as I see fit, Webb," the Admiral growled as Clay stood up and picked up his briefcase.

"Fine. Now if you don't mind I have an appointment."

Harm had to force himself to stay in his chair as Webb stood up and let himself out of the office. He didn't have the luxury of just storming out on the Admiral, no matter how much he wanted to talk to Webb. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say to the man, he just knew that somehow Webb always managed to get under his skin and picking a fight he knew he couldn't win made him feel a little better. Pretty sad that arguing with someone that hated him had become a sort of foreplay, but after seven years there wasn't much he could do to change the dynamic of their relationship.

"The next time you decide to track down an AWOL sailor take along some back-up, Commander."

The voice snapped him back to the reality that he was still sitting in the Admiral's office, and he nodded even though the other man was looking down at his desk again. "Yes, Sir."

"Fine. Dismissed."

If he wasn't so busy wondering what Clay was thinking Harm would have remembered to be grateful that the Admiral hadn't read him the riot act for rushing headlong into a dangerous situation. Being dressed down in front of the Admiral by Clayton Webb wasn't exactly something he enjoyed, but he was used to it and Chegwidden never took anything Webb said seriously anyway. Every once in awhile Harm wondered why the CIA got itself mixed up in JAG affairs so often, but whenever he started thinking about it his head started to hurt. The important thing was that Webb seemed to be some sort of attaché to JAG, and as long as that was the case Harm wasn't going to complain about seeing him.

When he stepped out of the Admiral's office he didn't expect Clay to still be hanging around, but as soon as he closed the door behind him he found himself staring at the CIA agent's back. And what was he doing talking to Tiner? Harm swallowed an irrational surge of jealousy and cleared his throat, rolling his eyes when Clay didn't even look up. "Webb."

Slowly Clay turned to look at him, the hint of a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth before he schooled his features into a familiar scowl. "Don't start with me, Rabb. If you'd listened to me in the first place you wouldn't have that knot on the back of your head."

Harm's first instinct was to ask Clay why the hell he was still hanging around JAG when he'd clearly said just a few moments ago that he had an appointment to get to. His second instinct was to say something sarcastic about trusting somebody like Webb, but even the thought hurt him so he was sure he wouldn't be able to say it out loud. His third instinct was to grab Webb and haul him somewhere private, and even though it was the insane and most unlikely option of all of them, that was exactly what he did. Less than three seconds later they were in Harm's office, the door closed securely behind them and the blinds drawn.

"Are you insane?" Webb snapped, wrenching his arm out of Harm's grip as soon as the door closed behind them.

It was entirely possible that Harm was insane - in fact, given the current circumstances and his behavior it was very likely. Hauling Clayton Webb into his office and drawing the blinds when Bud and Harriet were already looking at him funny was bad enough, but now that he had the other man in here he had to think of something to do. Besides kiss him again, because no matter how much he wanted to he absolutely couldn't. There was no way he could explain that away with a lame excuse about hallucinating, not even if the hospital had given him the good painkillers.

He definitely hadn't thought this through, because Clay was standing there with his hands on his hips and it was obvious he was waiting for Harm to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say. His mind was blank for the first time since he could remember, which was a pretty neat trick considering how hard he'd been trying to achieve just this state of mind in the hospital. verything he'd been taught in law school about cross-examination and keeping his wits about him in the face of certain loss flew right out the window, and he was almost tempted to mumble something like 'forget it' and spend the rest of the day sulking about the fact that he'd just made matters worse.

"Well?" When he still didn't say anything Clay sighed, some of the fight visibly flowing out of him. "Roberts opened his big mouth, didn't he? I told him it was nothing, but he just couldn't leave it alone. How that man ever got through law school I'll never understand."

Harm smiled at that in spite of himself, because as much as he liked Bud he'd wondered that same thing once or twice. Then again he'd met a lot of civilian lawyers who made him wonder too. As soon as he realized he was smiling he forced his expression back to neutral; it was actually more panicked shock than anything resembling 'neutral', but he didn't have a mirror handy so he could delude himself.

"Look, Rabb, forget it, okay? I didn't kiss you back if that's what you're worried about. You passed out less than a second after."

For the first time since Harm could remember Clay trailed off, he didn't look away but it was obvious that he wasn't comfortable talking about this. Suddenly Harm wondered if Clay would have kissed him back given the opportunity. If Harm hadn't passed out almost immediately after he initiated the kiss would they be having this conversation right now? He couldn't ask that, of course, but it didn't stop him from wondering. He had to say something, though, so he went for the safest topic he could think of: accusing Clay of trying to get him killed. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me the guy was wanted for murdering federal agents? I can keep a secret, Webb. It wasn't like we weren't going to find out eventually."

"If you'd just done what I told you and minded your own business you wouldn't have found out anything," Clay said, his eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion for a second before he glanced away from Harm. "I can't just go around telling you everything you want to know. I have a job to do too, whether you respect that or not. Jesus, Rabb, you could have gotten
yourself killed."

"I've been closer to death before," Harm answered automatically. He was too busy wondering how to get back to the subject of the kiss to notice the slight widening of Clay's eyes before the other man took a deep breath and forced his expression back to neutral. "And you've been involved in one or two of those situations."

He didn't miss the exasperated sigh that escaped Clay's throat, or the eye roll that he'd gotten so used to over the years. "Can I help it if you're the only man alive that can turn a routine operation into a life and death situation? Don't blame me for your need to play the hero, Rabb."

Harm had a vague impression that he should be insulted by that, and maybe he would have been if he'd been listening to Clay. This wasn't the conversation he wanted to have, though, and it was pretty obvious from the other man's body language that he'd rather be anywhere but standing in the tiny office arguing with Harm. "So would you have kissed me back?"

"What?"

He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until he registered the unguarded shock in Webb's expression. The part of his brain that wasn't busy trying to convince him to take it back was congratulating him on shocking Clay into silence for the first time since they'd known each other. It was an interesting sight, the normally rigid CIA agent standing in front of him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Harm raised an eyebrow and took a step forward before he could stop himself, swallowing his own surprise when Clay mirrored his action unconsciously. It was an interesting turn of events; unexpected, to say the least, but far too good an opportunity to pass up. Besides, he could always take it back, say he was just messing with Clay's head because it was so easy.

"You said you didn't kiss me back because I passed out as soon as I kissed you. So if I hadn't passed out you would have."

"Christ, Rabb." The defensive tone of voice Harm was familiar with, but the fact that Clay wasn't quite meeting his gaze made him wonder if he'd hit a nerve. "You can wipe the smug smile off your face. Rest assured I wouldn't act as stand-in for your little fantasy about McKenzie or the Playmate of the Month or whoever you were thinking about."

Clay was pretty cute when he looked guilty, Harm decided. And there was really only one reason he would look guilty, because if he'd never considered kissing Harm back he wouldn't have anything to feel guilty about. "Right. Did I say anything? I don't remember it at all. It's really
annoying, actually." Harm swallowed a smirk at the look Clay shot him, forging ahead before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. "I remember following Dawson to the warehouse, and I remember hearing something just before he knocked me out. But the next thing I remember after that is waking up in the hospital. It's driving me crazy trying to remember."

"You didn't say anything, Rabb. You were barely conscious, there's nothing to remember," Clay said, his jaw clenched and his voice a little rougher than it had been a few minutes ago.

"Still.it's really irritating, Clay. Maybe if I reenacted the events I could remember. Would you mind?"

He'd never seen Clay turn that color before, not even when he was shouting at Harm for leaping before he looked. Not even during his many pissing contests with the Admiral had Clay ever lost his composure quite that much. Harm decided it looked really, really good on him.

"Have you lost your mind?" Clay asked.

"I think I might have," Harm answered. He took another step forward, bringing him less than six inches away from the smaller man. All Clay had to do was take a step back, just move away and Harm would come to his senses. One word was all it would have taken to convince him that he was hallucinating the look in Clay's eyes, and maybe that he should go back to the hospital for some more tests. There had to be something wrong with his brain, because he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward just a little more.

Still no movement from Clay, as though he was frozen in place as Harm brushed his lips against the other man's. It was barely a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back again, smiling smugly at the wide-eyed shock staring back at him. It took Clay a second to pull himself together, but when he did his expression turned dark in a way that Harm should have anticipated. He might have if he'd been thinking beyond the end of the kiss, but as usual where Clay was concerned he'd jumped in with both feet before he thought it through. The dark scowl was something he was used to, but it had never sent a chill down his spine before. "I."

"Are you done?" Clay snapped, but his voice was strained and suddenly Harm wasn't sure why he was angry. The past few days had been really confusing, and he was just making things worse by trying to mess with Webb's mind. Still, a few seconds ago he'd been sure that Clay wanted him, and the sudden 180 couldn't be because he was that bad of a kisser. It had barely even been a kiss, and Harm couldn't help regretting that a little.

"I'm not sure," he answered, surprised by how calm he sounded. "Was that what it was like the first time?"

Clay looked away and took a deep breath, but when he turned back to Harm some of the darkness in his expression had shifted into something even darker that sent a jolt of anticipation straight to Harm's groin. "Not exactly. It was more like this." Before he knew it Clay grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him forward, planting a hard kiss on his lips before he pulled away again. "That's when you passed out."

If he'd stopped to think about it Harm might have been embarrassed that he'd passed out after delivering such a sloppy and amateurish kiss, but he was too busy trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Clay had just kissed him. Granted it was under the guise of illustration, but Harm could work with that. "I can do a lot better than *that*," he murmured, reaching out to grip Clay at the back of his neck this time. He didn't give the other man a chance to react, although if Clay had any notion about pulling away it dissolved the moment their lips met. The mouth under his parted automatically and Harm groaned, his free hand landing on Clay's hip and pushing him roughly against the desk. He heard something hit the floor but he didn't bother to look; he was far too busy proving that he could kiss much better than that first clumsy attempt in the warehouse.

Clay's hands landed on his chest, fisting the material of his uniform in a vain attempt to pull Harm on top of him on the desk. Harm forgot where they were, how long they'd been arguing behind closed doors and what the rest of the office was going to say when Clay finally emerged from his office again. Evidently Clay hadn't forgotten, though, because too soon the hands on his chest flattened and began pushing him away.

"Not here," Clay gasped when he managed to pull his mouth away from Harm's. "Christ, Rabb.not.damn it."

Harm felt his head moving up and down, although he had no idea why he was nodding. He couldn't think at all beyond the way Clay's mouth had felt on his and the idea that there could be much, much more if he just remembered how to form a coherent sentence. As soon as Clay pushed him backwards and stood up Harm remembered where they were, all the blood draining from his face as he glanced over at the still-closed door.

"Exactly," Clay said, his tone irritatingly calm as he straightened his jacket and smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of his pants. He leaned down to pick up the briefcase he'd dropped on the floor, clearing his throat as he straightened up and reached for the doorknob. For a moment Harm stood frozen in the center of his office, the sudden surge of lust quickly replaced by anger at the fact that Webb was just going to walk out like nothing had happened. He started forward again, but before he could stop the other man Clay glanced over his shoulder. "Come by around 8:00. You remember where I live, don't you, Rabb?"

Later Harm would realize how pathetic he must have looked when he nodded enthusiastically, his lips slightly parted and for all the world looking like a puppy eager to please its master. Even when he realized that he must have looked ridiculous he couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed about it, though, because the genuine smile he got from Clay was worth whatever expression he'd been wearing.