SquidgeWorld Archive

Harm growled into the silence of his apartment and set down the bottle of water he'd been drinking, running a hand over his face in an effort to chase the memory of spending the night with Clay out of his mind. None of this made sense, he knew Clay was going to end things between them eventually and he'd been prepared for it. There was no reason it should be affecting him this much, he shouldn't be thinking about Clay all day or catching the scent of his cologne in a crowd and searching the faces around him for any sign of the other man. He shouldn't be wondering why Clay had called things off, he already knew the answer to that.

It didn't make sense that it was bothering him so much; sure, he was attracted to Webb, he'd known that for a long time. He never thought anything would actually come of it, but he'd enjoyed the past month of seeing Clay whenever he could. Granted it was just sex but he'd always told himself that he couldn't even afford that while he was still in the Navy. He didn't have any intention of resigning his commission, but Webb of all people should understand the need for discretion. He was always lecturing Harm on discretion and keeping a low profile in his line of work, so in a way their relationship was ideal for both of them.

At least that was what he thought until Clay told him that he 'didn't do casual'. Well maybe Clay could afford the luxury of committed relationships, but along with Harm's uniform came the need to be much more careful. Besides, he wasn't looking for a relationship, he'd been perfectly happy with the arrangement he and Clay had. He had been, no matter how many times he heard that voice in the back of his head tell him that maybe he wanted something more. He couldn't want more with Clayton Webb, that just wasn't feasible even if he and Clay actually got along.

He'd spent the past two hours playing basketball to try and get the persistent image of Clay out of his mind, but that look in the other man's eyes when he'd told Harm it was over just wouldn't go away. His words and his body language had told Harm that he meant it, but he hadn't imagined the hesitation and regret in Clay's eyes when Harm asked him to change his mind. Maybe he shouldn't have begged, maybe Clay was laughing behind his back now because Harm hadn't wanted to let go. It seemed like such a stupid reason to end things between them, though, everything had been going fine until he pushed just a little too hard and reminded Webb of what they were doing and why they shouldn't be doing it.

That was the problem, and part of him had known that more or less forcing Clay to let him spend the night would be the final straw. He wasn't sure even now why he'd felt the need to push the other man so far, maybe it was just the competitiveness Clay brought out in him every time they found themselves together. So he'd pushed and pushed until he got his way, even though he knew it would cost him whatever it was they had. It had been too high a price to pay, he knew that now. He'd spent the weekend telling himself that it wasn't, that it would have ended eventually anyway and it didn't really matter that it had ended Saturday morning instead of a week or a month down the road.

By Sunday night he'd almost convinced himself that that was true, but when Monday rolled around he found his thoughts drifting to a certain CIA agent no matter what was going on around him. He was in the middle of court defending a petty officer on a drunk driving charge when he suddenly found himself remembering the way Clay had looked at him right before he walked out of his condo, then later he'd been in a briefing with the JAG staff and caught himself picturing Clay's hands on his body and his own fingers running through Clay's hair. There were a dozen other times during the day that he'd caught himself daydreaming, and by the time he got home he was so disgusted with himself that he'd gone straight to the basketball court to work off three days' worth of sexual frustration.

Not that it had worked, he reminded himself with a dark scowl as he glanced in the direction of his bed and pictured the last time Clay had been stretched out on that very mattress. Never in his entire life had he wished more that his loft had walls. He rolled his eyes at himself and yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it in the direction of his laundry basket as he headed toward the bathroom. He turned on the shower and peeled off the rest of his clothes, stepping into the hot stream of water and closing his eyes as he turned his face into the spray.

For a few moments he considered going out to a club, picking up some nameless guy and finding a different way to work off the sexual frustration that was getting more and more difficult to ignore. Last week if he'd felt this way he'd have gone over to Clay's place, but thanks to his juvenile need to get his way that wasn't an option now. He wondered how long it would have lasted if he hadn't pushed, if they'd have kept sleeping together periodically until Clay met someone that could give him the commitment he was looking for.

Harm frowned at the thought of Clay dumping him for some discreet but available stranger in a tailored suit, most likely from Clay's tax bracket. He shook his head and opened his eyes, reaching for his shampoo as he willed himself yet again not to think about it. There was still the possibility of going out to one of the many gay bars in the area and finding a distraction, at least for a few hours, but his heart wasn't really in it. Part of him thought that it would be better than jerking off alone and tossing and turning all night again, but he couldn't bring himself to go out and pick up some stranger. He knew who he wanted and anonymous sex in a bathroom or the back seat of a car wasn't going to change that, he'd only go home feeling disappointed and needing another shower.

Damn Clay anyway for screwing up what was a perfectly good relationship, they knew each other and there was a level of trust between them that he'd never felt with anyone before. He liked Clay, despite the other man's gruff exterior and his seemingly perpetual bad mood Harm liked the Clayton Webb he saw when they were alone together. Clay barely ever let his façade slip even a little, but every once in awhile just before he got up and pulled his clothes back on Harm caught a glimpse of the man behind the CIA persona. He saw the vulnerability and the same fear that Harm felt mirrored back in Clay's eyes, and he knew there was something between them. It wasn't love or any kind of real commitment but at least they understood each other.

None of that explained why he couldn't stop thinking about the man, though. He hadn't been this distracted in ages, it was irritating and he knew it wasn't going to get any better until he did something about it. He finished his shower and turned off the water, reaching for a towel and drying off before he wrapped it around his waist and made his way into the main part of the apartment. He could call Clay, just to see if maybe he'd started to have some regrets. He didn't have to come right out and say that he wanted to see him, he could just say he was checking to make sure they could still work together.

He nodded to himself and crossed the room, reaching for the phone just as it began to ring. For a moment he froze, his heart in his throat as he wondered if it was Clay on the other end. After the third ring he finally remembered that he'd have to pick it up to find out and he lifted the receiver to his ear, hoping his voice at least wouldn't break as he said hello.

"Harm? Are you okay?"

"Mac," he sighed, swallowing the disappointment rising in his throat as Mac's voice sounded in his ear. "I'm fine, you just caught me on my way out of the shower. What's up?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Harm was just about to ask Mac if she was okay when she cleared her throat and spoke again. "I was just calling to see if you were alright. You seemed a little distracted at the office today, during the briefing especially."

Harm's whole face flushed as he listened to her, his eyes rolling as he realized that if Mac noticed his distraction everyone probably had. He'd hoped he at least wasn't totally obvious about the fact that his mind wasn't really on his job all day, but obviously he'd failed miserably. "I'm fine, Mac."

There was another pause and he realized that she was waiting for him to elaborate on what was bothering him, but he wasn't in the mood to make something up just to satisfy her curiosity. He certainly couldn't tell her the truth, at least not without the benefit of seeing her face when he told her he was having relationship problems with Webb. As soon as the thought occurred to him he had to struggle not to laugh, and he ended up coughing into the phone.

"Harm? Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

"I don't know, maybe," he lied. "I do feel a little lightheaded."

"You should go to bed," Mac said, his tone of voice telling him that there was no point in trying to convince her that he wasn't gravely ill. "And drink plenty of fluids, isn't that what they say? Do you need me to bring you anything?"

"Mac, I'm fine," he said, rolling his eyes again at the thought of her rushing over with soup or something. Somehow he couldn't see Mac as the type to fuss over anyone while they were sick, even him. "Don't worry about me."

She sighed and he instantly felt guilty for being so dismissive, but the last thing he needed to do was pretend he was sick so that Mac had something to do with her evening. "If you say so. Take care of yourself, Harm."

"Thanks, Mac," he answered, grimacing as he hung up the phone and stared down at the receiver. Maybe there really was something wrong with him after all, because if Mac hadn't called he would have dialed Clay's number. What would he have said to the man if he'd answered the phone? 'I miss you'? He didn't miss Webb, not in the sense that Clay would assume. He just missed the closeness, he missed feeling skin on skin and he missed having his arms around someone all night long. It wasn't the same with a woman, if he wanted to pursue Mac again he knew she wouldn't put up a fight this time but he knew it wouldn't cure the ache he felt whenever he thought about spending the night alone. The strange thing was that it was Clay that did that for him, a man that a few weeks ago he'd thought didn't even like him.

Not that he believed that Clay had suddenly had a change of heart where Harm was concerned; no, he was smart enough to know that for Clay it was just sex and that he was probably disgusted with himself for falling into a casual relationship based purely on physical attraction. Men like Clay considered themselves above casual, they needed conversation and intimacy at a level Harm couldn't provide. At least he'd never been able to provide it in the past, not in college and after that he hadn't wanted to risk being with a man. He couldn't have a relationship, so there was no point in getting himself into these situations. He knew that this was exactly what would happen, which was exactly why he'd always avoided acting on any attraction he'd felt over the years.

Since Clay, though, living the lie he'd worked so hard to build during his career just wasn't as easy as it had been just a few weeks ago. It was just a matter of time before he got it out of his system, and then he could go back to the way things were before New Year's Eve. If he'd just stayed home alone that night and dealt with his loneliness he wouldn't be in this mess now, thinking about what he'd been denying himself since college and wondering what it was about Clayton Webb that had finally made him act on a desire he'd controlled for years.

He sighed and turned away from the phone, shaking his head at the thought of calling Clay for another round of abuse. There was no reason to call him, he knew exactly what Clay would say if he called and pretended he was just doing damage control. He'd see right through Harm's speech about their working relationship and give him another lecture on how he wasn't interested in a casual relationship, then Harm would feel worse than he already did. He just had to forget that he and Clay were ever anything more than colleagues, it was the only way to hold onto his sanity.

Finally he crossed to the bedroom and dropped his towel in the laundry basket, pulling on a pair of clean running shorts before he made his way back to the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. He'd just go back to living his life and pretend Clay was just someone he worked with every once in awhile, that was all he could do. It didn't have anything to do with actually missing the man, it was just what he could offer Harm that he craved.

Down in the murk of your mystery, that's me swimming.
Down in the water at the corner of your eye, that's me swimming

-- Soul Coughing, "Lemon Lime"

The End