Sometimes we just ignore the stares. The overwhelming sensation of love they hold. Sometimes it is easier to forgo love. Lock it in a box and throw away the key. Even when the nagging sensation gets stuck on you like glue. Every second becomes harder to breathe, to think, until you have no other choice than suck it up and just look. 

A mistake, she quickly realizes. As Harm’s eyes are on her unrelenting. There was a passion to that blue hue staining his eyes. Wave after wave of unfiltered emotions just striking her time and time again. “What?” She voices out, trepidation clear in that single word. Harm rolls his shoulders into a shrug, clear sign that he knows well what she is thinking, because he is on the same rocking boat himself. “Don’t...” Mac is quick to add, gaze moving to the wall across the bed. Whoever said one room, on bed, is a good trope haven’t really been at the end of it like she is now. Especially when tension is running high (and not because they are in hot territory) and emotions are utterly unreliable. 

“I haven’t said anything.” Harm is responding, laying flat on the bed with his bulging arms crossing over his chest. 

SHE IS DEFINETELY NOT STARING.

“It is what you’re think that worries me.” Following suit, Mac also lays down, welcoming the view of the ceiling. 

“You scare easily, Mac.” Harm is turning his head to look at her. She can feeling his gaze on her. Causes her entire body to become aflame. Ignoring him and going to sleep seemed like the rational course of action but logic doesn’t apply in this instant, not with him. It was always the same and Sarah was so tired of constantly pushing down all that just want to surface. “What is it, Webb?” The name felt like a bucket of cold water washing over her, and Sarah is turning to him, arm propping her up to look down at him.

“He has nothing to do with us...” The words slipped, measured and soft. There wasn’t an ‘us’ they have been constantly making sure there wasn’t, one more than the other and Mac has lost count of it. 

The timing was always wrong.

“If not him, what?” It was Harm’s turn to prop himself up, both now at eye level. It was staring contest all of a sudden. All that had been left unsaid swirling in each other’s eyes. It was torture. “Mac, you know how I feel.” And that was the camel that broke the straw back. 

She was never sure when it came to him.

“Do I?” She questioned, eyes narrowing on him. “Because you always seemed to wait for me to go out the door to let me know.” Mic, Webb and the list goes on. It was exhausting, and she needed a break. 

“It isn’t my fault your taste in men is horrible.” 

If looks could kill, Harmon Rabb Jr. would have been found dead in this bed. Instead, Mac and bolting out of the bed, or tried to before he grabbed her by the arm to stop her. “That was in poor taste, I’m sorry.” He was quick to apologize but the damage was already done.