Title: The Fine Art Of Marriage

Author: Jackie, Radiorox

Summary: Sequel Story to the Fine Art of Dating. Harm and Mac go through the humorous ups and downs of marriage.

AN: We leave it where we left off, Harm and Mac are in Vegas, recently married and a little someone from back home catches them off guard.

Part 1 – Busted!

"You know, I am kinda glad to get out of the hotel room." My new bride states as we sit, side by side in front of slot machines. I study her expression and a sincerity that irks me. Did she not enjoy the time we spent upstairs? I mean, I strongly remember her writhing beneath, above and next to me while screaming my name. Our 'next door neighbors' were even knocking the wall down and telling us to be quiet.

Alright, so we were a little enthusiastic. How can you blame us with a courtship that's lasted a decade?

I take a sip of my drink. "You prefer being down here, with zillions of other people, than being alone with me upstairs?"

Mac's been the only person that could read me like a book. Alright, so maybe she couldn't read everything, then again, neither could I when it came down to us. But, on normal, day to day things, the woman was downright scary. "That's not what I meant." She says in a sexy voice as her fingers trail up my inner thigh. It's enough to make me shiver and Mac chuckles in the enjoyment of making me flustered. "My back was starting to ache." She confesses and stretches almost cat like.

"Ah, so that's why you insisted on having a couple's massage?" I love getting massaged, it's great, wonderful, however, when a three hundred pound woman is, squeezing down on your butt muscles like she's kneading cookie dough things tend to change. Honestly, I just love Mac's massages. Probably because they lead to more interesting things.

She holds back her laughter and then just gives in, doubling over and holding the slot machine in front of her for dear life. "The look on your face was priceless. . .I happen to think that you only like my massages. . .I sure as hell love yours."

Well, at least there's that. "Woooo!! Lucky sevens!" I yelp and rack up a good forty bucks after having spent over a hundred.

Mac peaks at my machine and chuckles. "Sixty more and you'll break even." She's gloating and has all of the right in the world to. Besides winning five hundred dollars at the black jack table the night that she got here, Mac has two buckets full of quarters. "Let me know if you want a loan." She places a quarter in the palm of my hand grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, you're my wife now, MacKenzie, that means that what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours." Mmm. I kinda realize, a bit late that it was the absolute wrong thing to say to a lawyer with a wicked wit like Mac's.

She turns to me with an evil grin. "So, that means I get to drive around your 'Vette?"

"My 'Vette?" I groan. "We'll discuss the parameters at another time, thank you."

It takes me the loss of another forty dollars to remember that slot machines were often coined the 'one arm bandits.' Mac fares slightly better, winning another twenty before her internal clock tells her it's time to head upstairs, shower and change for a show at the Mirage.

She looks stunning in a long, deep green dress and I find myself just staring as she comes out of the head. "Wow." I can't believe that she's all mine now. All mine. Mine. Sarah MacKenzie is mine and I feel like a kid at Christmas.

"Wow yourself, sailor." I'm wearing a black suit and tie opting to forgo the dress whites which Mac hinted she preferred me in. I just wanted to feel normal for once, not like a Commander in the Navy. I wanted to forget all about the military and just enjoy the few, precious days that we have before heading back to JAG turmoil.

We head to the Mirage in a limo and work our way through the hotel, me with Mac on my arm. Other couples stare at us with, what I imagine would be jealousy and I enjoy every moment of it. Mac had never been the type to enjoy adorning a man's arm, but this time, I see her walk a little straighter as if enjoying the attention. Maybe she just wanted to be on my arm.

Stopping at the bar before the show, I order her up a Tonic water with a twist and me a burbon. We chat for a while and an eardrum piercing wail nearly knocks me off of my stool. "Oh may God! Harm and Sarah."

Our eyes widen and we both turn in time to see, none other than Jacques, our former wedding coordinator standing with an entourage of sorts. He heads towards us in a movement that is way too graceful for a man of his size and stature. He looks like a man that should be playing football as a linebacker and not wearing a pink suit, as stylish as it is for him. "Sarah" He bows for Mac, takes her hand and is about to kiss the back of it when. . .

The shriek is probably the same sound that the mythological banshee makes. If not, it's pretty damned close to it. Everything around us, even the piano music comes to a halt leaving some cheesy lounge music to play over the speakers. I glance around self consciously and then peer at Jacques who is giving the both of us an evil glare.

He shrieks again, this time louder (if that's even possible) and a second later, Mirage security is coming to our side. "Something wrong?"

Great, I can imagine us being kicked out on our asses for this one. "No, Jacques is our wedding coordinator and we've. . .umm. . ."

"Eloped?" The surly, balnding guard states and then smirks. He takes one more glance at Jacques and shakes his head in disgust. "Can you please calm him down a bit?"

"I'll try." Yeah, right. Maybe I should have just let him take Jacques away. Nah, I am not that cruel.

"Jour mami will be very upset. Aie dios. Con todo el dinero. . .all of the mahney she'd spent for joo."

"Manny? Who's Manny?" Mac asks and we just shrug in confussion. What the hell was Jacques talking about?"

"Aie dios!" He yelps and I swear, if he screams again I am going to just crawl under the rug. "Not Manny! Mahney!" He gives me an incredulous look which I return surely enough with a confussed look. "Aie dios!" Jacques repeats again and then stomps his foot and pouts much like I'd seen Renee do way back when. Yup, that's who he reminds me of, a more annoying version of Renee. "Mahney!!" He snorts and then rubs the tips of his thumb and index finger together.

"Ooooh. Money!" Mac exclaims, happily settling one calamity only to have Jacques yelp again. I swear, the man is giving me a headache.

"Aie dios!" That is clearly his favorite phrase. "Trishie whill be so apset! She spent so much mahney!"

I narrow my eyes. "I never asked her to spend so much money." I emphasize the last word, hoping that Jacques will get a clue on how to pronounce it but I doubt it will sink in much. He's busily flailing his arms like someone who can't swim and had just been thrown overboard.

"Whell, she did. . .Flowers, de hall, de caterers. . ." He trails off and glares at Mac in something that I would call spite. "Joo let him elope joo?"

Mac raises her hand in defense. "I wanted to. . .The wedding plans, your plans were a bit too much." She's much more brazen than I and I love her for it. Jacques, on the other hand does not seem too pleased.

He helps once again and then deflates into a bar stool. "Jacques haf failed joo." A hand comes over his face and he starts to sob – loudly. His cries sound faintly like two cats in heat and I find myself startled every few seconds or so when he stops and then starts again. God, why me? Why us?

I feel a dull ache at the pit of my stomach, a guilt that is starting to collect itself like a tsunami as I realize the sacrifice that my mother has made for me. I love her, I do, but why couldn't she keep her nose out of this? Part of me also feels bad for Jacques who's no doubt put his time and effort into the whole thing.

"Harm." Mac states softly and leans in to whisper in my ear. "I'm kinda feeling bad right about now." Neither of us have really been the type to be swayed by a guilt trip and now. . .damnit. I see the turmoil in her molten chocolate eyes. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to do the wedding thing properly."

At that, Jacques' wailing stops abruptly. He glances up hopefully at us and then starts rambling something in Spanish that I can't decipher but believe to be a prayer of sorts. "Oh, Sarah, joo are going to lav the flowers Trishie picked out. . .So beautiful. . . and the caterers, joo mast ehstart looking into de menu. . ."

He takes Mac's hand and practically pushes me out of the whole conversation. I sigh deeply and roll my eyes. So much for the simplicity of eloping.

Mom's going to kill me.