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Jack Dalton sat at the bar in a gay club off Sunset Boulevard with a drink in his hand and tried to figure out how many times he’d done this—not sat at the bar in a gay club, but sat at a bar and pretended to be interested in his drink when in reality he was casing the building. He didn’t have an exact number, but he was sure it was a lot. This time around he was with Mac, and they were looking for a fella named Joseph Reznik, an Eastern European by way of Chicago scumbag who liked to fence all sorts of stolen things between third parties. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Jack, but he couldn’t place why. Anyway, Reznik had a USB drive full of classified information in his possession, and the goal of the mission was for Jack to honeypot his way into Reznik’s hotel room. Apparently he had a thing for older men, and Jack fit his typecasting perfectly.
Mac sat down on the empty barstool next to Jack, covered in a light sheen of sweat. He was wearing a pair of ridiculously tight dark-wash skinny jeans and a black tank top that showed off his biceps. First he leaned over the bar and ordered a drink, then spoke into Jack’s ear to be heard over the thumping bass coming from the DJ’s speakers: “Have you seen Reznik? Because he’s not on the dance floor, but a lot of serial gropers are.”
Jack shook his head no, because forming words was difficult when he was focusing all his energy on not staring at Mac… or worse, pushing him against the wall and kissing him senseless.
Mac’s drink arrived—some kind of fruity cocktail—and he swallowed most of it down, then noticed the glass of clear liquid on the bar in front of Jack. “What are you drinking?”
Jack tore his gaze away from where he was watching the crowd, looking between Mac and the glass before flicking his eyes away again. “Vodka.” He hoped Mac would think he was focused on locating their target and not being an ass—the truth was he couldn’t look at Mac, not when he was dressed like that in a place like this.
“Straight?” Mac asked, eyebrows rising.
“No, bi,” Jack replied absentmindedly, eyes widening a moment later when his brain registered what his mouth said.
Riley and Bozer were stationed in the Phoenix’s stakeout van outside the club, and they both guffawed into the comms.
“I mean the drink, not you,” Mac said haltingly, running a hand through his hair. “Me, too, though.”
Jack stared at him despite his earlier efforts not to, but he couldn’t help it. So not only did Mac not have a problem with Jack’s sexuality (Jack hadn’t thought he would), but he was bisexual too? That… made things even more difficult, because before at least Jack told himself that Mac was 100% unavailable because he was straight. And now… Mac was obviously not interested in Jack, but the fact that he could’ve been and wasn’t made it burn even more.
The bar was getting crowded, and Mac put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Maybe we should move to a booth? I can’t see anything from here.” He had to lean in again to speak, breath ghosting Jack’s ear.
Jack jumped off his stool, goosebumps breaking out all over his body at the feeling of having Mac that close and knowing that he wasn’t the only one attracted to the same sex. They made their way over to one of the tiny booths that ran across the back wall of the club. Mac slid on to the vinyl bench first and Jack clambered in after him, still clutching the last of his vodka. A scantily-clad waiter came around and they ordered a couple more drinks, just to fit in. The booth they got was in the corner closest to the door, which was both good and bad—they wouldn’t miss Reznik when he came in, but he wouldn’t miss them either.
Jack put an arm across the back of the booth behind Mac, since it was that or have their shoulders be squashed together awkwardly, like their thighs already were. “We can’t just sit here and stare at the crowd, Reznik will make us when he comes in,” Jack said quietly, turning his head to speak into Mac’s ear. “We need to blend in.”
He cursed himself for that suggestion because there wasn’t much to do for cover except make out or grope each other. Cat was outta the bag though, so he downed his vodka and waited for Mac’s reaction.
Bozer made a noise like he was giving birth, but other than that the comms were silent.
“I guess you’re right,” Mac said, and did he sound… dejected? Was the idea of kissing Jack that horrible? “Let’s do this.”
Jack knew what was coming (it was his idea, after all), but nothing prepared him for Mac leaning in and pressing their lips together. He knew it was just for cover, but… he could pretend, right? If this was just a one-time thing, Jack could pretend it was real for a moment, even though it would hurt more after they were done with the mission. He kissed back, turning in his seat to wrap his arm around Mac’s waist and tug him closer, which made Mac gasp against his mouth and gave Jack an opportunity to slip his tongue between Mac’s parted lips.
Mac shivered in Jack’s hold, their tongues twining together before their lips parted and crashed back together again. He brought up a hand to cup Jack’s jaw, and that hand eventually slid down to rest against Jack’s chest as they continued to kiss. Jack bit down on Mac’s lower lip and got a groan for his trouble, Mac’s arm wrapping around Jack’s neck while his other hand fisted the material of Jack’s t-shirt. Jack was enjoying himself, way more than he should’ve been. Mac’s lips were soft and plush and skillful, and of course the kid was a great kisser, he was great at almost everything (except cooking).
It was Jack’s turn to groan when Mac wormed his way even closer, throwing a leg over both of Jack’s and crawling in his lap; he barely took a second to breathe before he sealed their mouths together again, nipping at Jack’s top lip teasingly. Jack’s hands moved of their own volition, resting flat on Mac’s back for a moment before they slid lower, squeezing Mac’s ass. Mac breathed in harshly through his nose and brought his own hands up to frame Jack’s jaw, tilting his head back a little so Mac could deepen their kisses further using the new angle.
“Uh, guys?” Riley attempted to interject over the comms. She was tapped into the club’s cameras, so she and Bozer were getting the bird’s-eye view of everything. “Guys, maybe you should ease up a little?”
No response, only another gasp from Mac when Jack’s hands groped his ass again. And it wasn’t like Jack was ignoring Riley, he just genuinely didn’t hear her, he was so focused on… what had they called it? Blending in?
“Guys!” Matty’s voice sounded in their ears and Mac and Jack pulled apart like they’d been burned, Jack’s grip on Mac’s ass the only thing that kept him from falling on the floor. “Now that I have your attention, Reznik’s limo just pulled up outside. Start acting less like horny teenagers and more like government agents, please.”
Jack pressed his lips against Mac’s ear, so it would look like he was talking to him or nipping at his earlobe while Mac kept an eye on the door.
“Nothing yet,” Mac murmured, and shivered again when Jack’s lips moved from his ear to the side of his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Mhmm, blending in,” Jack hummed against his skin. The truth was, Jack couldn’t help himself. And Mac’s skin tasted like sweat and alcohol and something unique that reminded Jack of ozone—sunshine, maybe? Since Mac was the literal embodiment of sunshine, Jack wouldn’t have been surprised.
At that moment, Reznik strolled through the doors to the club with a well-muscled, well-armed posse, and Mac’s tight voice said, “Reznik is inside. He’s got four bodyguards and they’re heading toward the bar.”
“Jack, if you’re going to make a move on Reznik, maybe you should… detach yourself from Mac?” Riley suggested, her voice a little strained. “He might get suspicious if you start hitting on him right after you were making out with another guy.”
“Good call, Riles,” Mac said, and he planted one last closed-mouthed kiss on Jack’s lips before he crawled back into the booth and made an attempt to straighten out the wreck that was his hair.
Jack picked up his second drink and downed it in one go—he wasn’t exactly a lightweight, and if he was going to perform with Reznik he needed something to brace him. He risked a glance in Reznik’s direction and saw Reznik was already looking at him, a gleam in his icy blue eyes.
Holding that gaze, Jack let a slow wolfish grin spread on his lips and winked at Reznik before he turned toward Mac. “Pretend to try and stop me when I get up.” He said it quietly, since two of Reznik’s goons were sitting in another booth nearby. Then he raised his voice: “Thanks for that, pretty boy.”
He stood up and Mac played his part perfectly, reaching out to grab at Jack’s wrist. “Wait, where are you going?”
“It’s been fun, gorgeous, but I have other… things to do tonight.” And with that, Jack sauntered off in the direction of the bar and Reznik.
~***~
Mac watched from the booth as Reznik shot a look at one of his goons, who abandoned the barstool next to Reznik so Jack could sit down.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasure,” Reznik said, his words coming through clearly over Jack’s comm. “You looked like you were having fun with your… companion, and yet you come over here to see me?”
“Oh, that?” Jack gestured dismissively at Mac without looking his way. “Nah, that was just… me passing time, waiting for something nicer to catch my eye.”
That stung, but Mac brushed it off, knowing their little make out meant nothing to Jack. He was a fantastic actor, which was part of the reason he’d made such a great undercover agent for the CIA. If he could pretend to enjoy kissing Mac and be that convincing, there was no limit to his talent.
Mac knew it was only a matter of time before somebody tried to join him in the booth, so he got up and looked for a spot where he could watch the scene unfold but not draw attention to himself. He found refuge in the form of a rickety table by the DJ booth and started making mindless small talk with a bald guy in a golf jacket.
“Mhmm,” seems like he’s moved on to greener pastures himself,” Reznik commented, and Mac had to turn a snort into a cough—if Golf Jacket was Reznik’s idea of greener pastures, he had abysmally low standards. He offered Jack a hand, smiling at him demurely. “Joseph Reznik. And you are?”
Jack shook Reznik’s hand. “Brad Anderson.” He dropped the alias he’d selected for the mission without missing a beat.
“Lovely to meet you, Brad,” Reznik said, his voice practically a purr. He looked Jack up and down like a carnivore might eye a raw steak. “You’ll pardon me, but this—” he gestured vaguely at their surroundings “—doesn’t exactly look like your scene. What do you do for a living? You strike me as the type of man who likes working with his hands.”
“Oh my God,” Riley muttered from the van, sounding like she wanted to beat her head against her keyboard.
Mac couldn’t have agreed with her more, but his voice was gone. He was too busy clutching his drink so hard he was afraid the glass might crack, but thankfully Golf Jacket had moved on to greener pastures himself.
“Oh, on the contrary, Joseph,” Jack said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in close. “This is exactly my scene. And my job’s boring, but let me assure you… there are many things I enjoy doing with my hands.”
Bozer made a sound like he was choking on something, and Mac felt like dying, praying for this mission to end so he didn’t have to listen to Jack flirt with some creep. It didn’t help that his brain kept replaying all that kissing they’d done, and he could still feel the tingle of Jack’s lips against his.
Reznik smiled at Jack. “Well, in that case,” he said, accent thickening slightly, “perhaps you’d interested in putting those hands to good use back in my hotel room?” He reached out and stroked the lapel of Jack’s leather jacket with his thumb.
Mac felt his glass crack in his hand. He let go of it carefully so he didn’t cut himself, breathing harshly and fighting the urge to walk over there and punch Reznik clean off his barstool. The plan was working, Reznik inviting Jack back to his room was a good thing, but that didn’t make Mac want to kill him any less. He clenched his fists in his lap and ignored the prickling at the back of his brain that told him this was a terrible idea.
Jack got even closer, placing his hand on Reznik’s thigh and slowly sliding it up his inseam. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Reznik grinned and closed the gap between them for a kiss that looked vicious, all tongue and teeth. “Let’s go, then,” he said when he pulled back, dumping cash on the bar and taking Jack’s arm, the goons following along behind them like trained dogs.
Mac waited a few beats before he got up from his table and followed them, keeping a good distance back so he wouldn’t be seen.
“Mac, this wasn’t part of the plan,” Matty said, a warning in her voice. “If you get caught—”
“I won’t,” Mac gritted out, then forced himself to temper his voice. “I’m not letting Jack go off with this guy without backup—how many of the guys he’s slept with has he killed again?”
“… Fine,” Matty replied, after a moment of silence. “But be careful.”
Mac got outside just as Reznik and Jack got into Reznik’s limo, so Mac climbed behind the wheel of the Phoenix car he and Jack used to get to the club. He kept several car lengths between himself and the limo, but what he heard over the comms almost made him crash his car—the sounds of kissing, and judging by the rustling and breathing, it was getting heated.
“Oh, ew,” Bozer said. “I do not need to be hearing this.”
“You really think I do? Jack’s practically my dad!” Riley exclaimed, and the two of them devolved into bickering.
The limo pulled in under the hotel awning, and Mac parked his car half a block away and across the street. Reznik and Jack tumbled out of the limo a moment later, Reznik’s hand in Jack’s back pocket. When Jack spoke his voice was so low that the comms barely picked up, and Mac flinched when he heard Jack mutter in Reznik’s ear “oh, the things I’ll do to you” as he pushed him against the side of the limo, trailing his lips over Reznik’s neck just like he did with Mac not that long ago.
Jealousy was a hot, prickly thing that spread through Mac’s chest and up his throat but he swallowed it down, because he had a job to do… and there was no reason to be jealous anyway. Jack wasn’t interested in him, full stop, so Mac needed to put his silly crush on his partner out of his mind. He watched them make out against the limo for a while before they went inside, Reznik’s four-man posse flanking their path.
Mac waited another beat and then got out of the car, hustling across the street but slowing down in the lobby so he looked more like he belonged, even wearing his clubbing clothes. “Riley, what floor is Reznik staying on? I’m gonna take the stairs.”
“Sixteenth floor,” Riley answered, keyboard clacking. “He has a suite at the end of the hall.”
It was a lot of stairs to climb but Mac didn’t care, the bad feeling he had back in the club only intensifying because something was wrong—besides the sounds of Jack and Reznik making out in the elevator. He heard the moment they got into Reznik’s room over his comm, the solid thump of the security door shutting behind them. He was out of breath by the time he reached the sixteenth floor, but seconds after he did he heard a loud thud followed by a sudden “what the fuck” from Jack in his normal voice, not the husky one he’d been using since he started talking to Reznik.
“Did you honestly think I didn’t know who you were, Brad?” Reznik sneered, and Mac felt his blood turn to ice. “Or should I call you Walter? After all, it was Walter Dempsy who sold my father out to the American government and collapsed his entire drug empire.” Reznik’s voice dropped lower, a mockery of his flirtation from earlier, and Mac heard the distinct sound of a switchblade opening. “Or should I call you Jack Dalton, and your pretty friend Angus MacGyver?”
Matty cursed in the background, no doubt pulling up files from Jack’s past assignments, and Mac briefly wondered how they all missed the connection Jack had to Reznik’s father. But that wasn’t important, because Jack was stuck unarmed in a room with a vengeful sociopath and two bodyguards who had no doubt drawn their guns. Mac knew there were only two of them in the room because he peeked around the corner and saw that the other two were guarding the door from the hallway.
“How do you know my real name?” Jack asked, evidently deciding there was no point in playing dumb.
“You aren’t the only one with friends in high places… or friends who are awfully good with computers,” Reznik said. “You had your picture taken with my father, remember? All it took was facial recognition software and some hacking, and I had you figured out. He knew it was you, by the way—not who you were, but that you were the mole. Said it up until the day he died.” The sound of movement, like Reznik got closer to Jack. “Tell me, does Angus know about all the vile things you did in the name of your country? Because I could tell him, if you’d like.”
Mac retreated temporarily to pick the lock on a maintenance closet. There was a big metal cart on wheels inside, along with some chemicals he could use to make a bomb that could blow the door, he just needed Jack to stall long enough for him to craft it. He shook his head to himself—he knew the kind of things Jack had done in the past for the army and the CIA, even though Jack acted like Mac needed to be shielded from it.
“You won’t get anywhere near him,” Jack growled, and Mac’s heart stuttered at how protective he sounded but quickly pushed it away.
“Oh, did I touch a nerve?” Reznik asked, knowing full well he did. “That little blond who was in your lap earlier means something to you? Interesting. I mean, I suppose he goes everywhere you do, nipping at your heels—tell me, is he any good in bed? How does he take your cock?”
“Jesus,” Riley muttered, and Bozer winced.
Mac’s hands faltered but only for a moment. He finished mixing up his bombs and piled them inside the cart, backing it carefully out of the closet and into the hallway.
When Jack spoke again his voice had morphed into a snarl: “Shut up, or I’ll make you regret the day you were born.”
“I bet he likes it fast and hard, doesn’t he? Spreading his legs and just taking it like the little slut that he is.” Reznik kept running at the mouth, ignoring Jack’s warning completely. “I’d say he’s a screamer, morning your name like a cheap whore while you fuck him into the mattress. I wonder if he’d call for you if one of my boys took him out for a spin? Or maybe he’d like that—what do you think?”
It was ironic, Mac thought, that Reznik would say that right as he got a running start and launched the cart full of explosives down the hall, the two guards at the door diving out of the way before it made contact. The resulting explosion blasted them away and blew the door inward off its hinges, and Mac was already running into the room full of smoke. He ducked to avoid blind shots by Reznik’s other goons and kicked one in the knee to get him down before elbowing him in the face. He heard struggling—it was hard to see—and hoped it was Jack disabling Reznik while Mac fought with the last bodyguard, eventually backhanding him and knocking him out.
The smoke cleared a little, and Mac saw Jack pinning Reznik to the floor, with the switchblade Reznik had opened earlier pressed against its owner’s throat. “I told you to shut up and you didn’t listen,” Jack told him, putting more pressure on the blade.
Mac knew if he didn’t do something Jack would kill Reznik, and they could use him alive for information. “Hey, hey, Jack!” he said, jumping over one of the unconscious guards to get to his partner. “We need him alive, remember? Tie him up and help me find the USB.”
Reznik sneered. “You hear that, Jack? Blondie wants you to—”
Mac kicked him in the side of the head, and turned away to look for the USB.
~***~
Jack was frozen for a moment, staring at Reznik before snapping himself out of it and tying him up with his belt. He stood and watched Mac look for the USB, opening drawers and looking under furniture, something tense in the way that he moved. Jack could tell Mac was purposefully not looking at him, and that was when he remembered that the comms were on the whole time, so Mac must’ve heard everything Reznik had said.
“Later,” was all Mac said, reading Jack’s thoughts in that uncanny way that he had. His tone was clipped and very… un-Mac like, and Jack felt like he might throw up.
They tossed the room and located the USB in the room safe, which Mac had to blow open using yet another improvised explosive. They grabbed Reznik and dragged him downstairs, meeting the tac team behind the hotel to pass him along, and Mac handed over the USB at the same time.
“Good job out there tonight, you two,” Matty said, pride in her voice. “We’ll debrief sometime tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Matty,” Mac said before he turned off his comm and headed to the Phoenix car. Jack hesitated, unsure if he was invited until Mac half-turned to look at him. “Are you coming or what?”
Not needing to be told twice, Jack turned off his comm as well and followed Mac to the car, surprised when Mac got behind the wheel. He never usually drove when he rode with Jack, but Jack didn’t protest, only got in the passenger’s seat and wondered if this stupid mission had fucked up everything. He wasn’t sure what was worse—them kissing or what Reznik said, but he knew things weren’t okay.
“Are you alright?” was the first question Mac asked, which threw Jack for a loop until he remembered the punch Reznik got in during their fight. He had a bruise blooming on his jaw. “You didn’t catch any shrapnel in the explosion, right?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Jack shook his head, choosing to ignore the cut on his right arm that came from the bombs. It wasn’t too deep and he didn’t want to worry Mac. “Perfect timing, by the way. I’m not sure how much longer I would’ve been able to keep from lunging at Reznik and getting shot in the process.” He glanced out the window and realized they were in his neighborhood, which meant Mac’s destination was Jack’s apartment… which made sense, it was late and Mac probably didn’t feel like inviting Jack to his house to hang out. He briefly wondered if maybe he could convince Mac to come up to his apartment to… what? For all Jack knew, Mac didn’t want anything to do with him.
Mac’s hands trembled against the steering wheel before he tightened his grip on it. “Good, that’s… good. Glad I could help,” he said, the words stiff like cardboard. “But you do know none of that was worth getting shot over, right? What Reznik said, I mean.”
That made Jack’s head snap around to look at Mac. “What? Of course it was,” he said, frowning. “The way he talked about you was… that wasn’t cool, man.”
Mac let out a hollow, toneless laugh that Jack had never heard from him before, but it immediately set off alarm bells in his head. “Do you honestly think that’s the first time somebody’s talked about me that way?” he asked, turning a corner with calm precision. “Especially a guy like Reznik—I went to MIT, remember? How many preppy elitist douchebags you think got loaded and told me how pretty my lips would look sucking their cock?” Another flat laugh. “I won’t even mention all the ones who tried to make it happen regardless of whether I was on board.”
“What? It doesn’t matter, Mac, it doesn’t matter how many times someone talks about you that way, it doesn’t make it right.” The second part of what Mac said registered in Jack’s brain and his heart dropped. “God, Mac, if you were ever forced—” He cut off, unable to finish the sentence, a cold feeling settling down in his stomach. Had he forced Mac into making out back in the club?
“I wasn’t,” Mac said shortly, shaking his head a little as he pulled into the parking lot of Jack’s building. It was almost three in the morning, and most of the windows were dark. He stared out the windshield, hands dropping from the steering wheel into his lap as an afterthought. “All I’m saying is that I could hear how angry you got and I didn’t want you to get yourself killed over Reznik—or anybody—running their mouth.”
Jack couldn’t stand Mac brushing it off like that, but he had no idea what to do. It’d never been this hard to talk to Mac and he didn’t know how to fix it, but he had to try. “Mac, look… I’m sorry, okay?” About everything that happened tonight.”
Mac ducked his head forward a little, hair falling down enough to conceal his eyes. “Nothing to be sorry for. It was just work. That’s all.”
Jack wasn’t blind or deaf—he heard how Mac’s voice cracked and saw how he turned he looked away. “Mac, are you…” He leaned in, eyes widening when he realized there were tears running down Mac’s cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Jack was alarmed, because Mac was crying, and Mac hardly ever cried. “Mac, seriously, what’s going on?”
Mac took in a sharp breath and made a sound that was almost a sob except he choked it back at the last second. “Nothing.” He wiped angrily at his face with the back of his hand, careless of the cut he had on his cheek from a piece of shrapnel. “Just… don’t worry about me, Jack.” A thin smile. “I’ll have my shit together in the morning, I promise.”
“What the hell, Mac?” Jack asked incredulously. “Do you really expect me not to worry when you’re clearly upset and you start crying?” He itched to touch Mac, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do that. “Mac… is this about the kissing? Because I’m sorry if I forced you into it, I really am. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”
Mac’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? You didn’t… Jack, what are you even talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong. This—” he gestured at himself and chuckled wetly “—is my own fault.”
Jack was confused before and then it got multiplied times ten. If it wasn’t something that Jack did to upset Mac, then what the fuck was going on? “What are you talking about, Mac? Whatever it is, we can figure it out, man—”
“No, we can’t,” Mac interjected, shaking his head, more tears rolling down his face.
Jack was starting to freak out a little. “Mac, please, you have to—”
“Jack, just let it go, okay?” Hysteria laced Mac’s words, and he got out of the car.
Jack was stunned for a split second before he got his shit together and fought with his seatbelt, exiting the car as well. “Mac, hey—you know you can’t walk home, right?” It was a dumb question, but he was kind of out of options.
He caught up to Mac and put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around, and was shocked when instead of bursting out sobbing or throwing a punch, Mac threw himself at Jack, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his shoulder. Jack returned the hug, and Mac was clutching at him like he was scared Jack was going to disappear. “Mac? Mac, you have to talk to me, you’re kinda scaring me, you know?” Jack’s voice was trembling, and he tightened his grip on Mac when he started to shake. “Did this op… bring back some bad memories, or…?”
“I can’t lose you,” Mac whispered, barely audible, and Jack’s brain had whiplash at this point because what was happening? Mac’s hands were practically vibrating where they were digging into the back of Jack’s jacket. “I fucked up, I know I fucked up, but you have to give me another chance, Jack, please—”
“Hey, hey, Mac, it’s okay—you’re not losing me. You’re never going to lose me,” Jack assured, and frantically tried to figure out what Mac meant. He went over the events of the night in his mind, but there was nothing that Mac had done that would justify this kind of reaction. “But what on earth are you talking about? Fucked up how?”
Mac went still for a moment before he tried to pull away, and that just made Jack hold him tighter. Seeing Mac so obviously distressed made Jack’s insides twist themselves up in knots—always had, always would. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, Mac, or I can’t help you.” But Mac just shook his head, until Jack forwent his grip on Mac’s back to hold his face instead.
That touch froze Mac in place, his wet eyes going wide like saucers. “You really don’t know, do you?” he whispered, staring at Jack as if he wanted to melt into the sidewalk. “If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut I’d be home by now and you’d never know…”
“Know what? Mac, you know whatever it is you can tell me, right?” Jack’s voice had gone quiet and firm, and he stared at Mac pleadingly. “You can tell me anything.”
Mac grabbed Jack’s wrists and slowly peeled his hands away from his face. “Not this.” He sidestepped Jack and moved in the direction of the car.
It had been a long night. Jack was tired, he hurt all over, and there was a headache building behind his eyes strong enough to knock a steer over dead. So while he looked at Mac’s retreating back in that stupidly clingy tank top, Jack opened his mouth to say something he normally wouldn’t have, anger and hurt bleeding into the words: “I had no idea kissing me would disgust you this much.”
That made Mac stop in his tracks, turning around to stare at Jack. “What?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Looks like after all these years we can still learn new things about each other, huh?” He shook his head, all of his energy suddenly gone, and with one last look at Mac he headed for his building.
Mac followed him. “You think that’s what this is about? That I’m out here crying in your parking lot at three in the morning and clinging to you because I didn’t like kissing you?” He made a hoarse sound in the back of his throat, too wounded to be a laugh. “I loved kissing you. That’s the problem.”
It was Jack’s turn to stop dead in his tracks and face Mac, who was looking at him with fresh tears in his eyes and a defeated expression. “What… what did you just say?” he asked, because there was no way he heard that right.
Mac’s face crumbled. “I said—no, you know what, never mind, I know you heard me. You give Riley that old man shtick because it makes her laugh but your hearing is probably better than mine.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just… can we at least keep working together? I know this is going to make it awkward, but I promise I won’t let it change anything in the field.”
“You think I have a problem with you… loving kissing me?” Jack didn’t dare to move or breathe, because this was so ridiculous that it couldn’t be real. “This is… God, Mac, you’ve got it so wrong.”
Mac pulled a face, like the idea of him being wrong was insane. “Right, because I’m totally your type,” he said dryly, and there was pain behind those words. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Although with that performance you gave for Reznik I almost believed I could be.”
“Why would you think you’re not my type?” Jack asked, confused again—but fuck it, he was done holding back. “Mac, you’re exactly my type. In fact, you’re my only type. Have been for years.”
Mac’s next words tripped out of his mouth, fast and uncoordinated like he didn’t meant to say them: “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how I felt about you.”
“How about you do me the courtesy of letting me decide what I want to say?” Jack snapped, frustration putting an edge on the words. “But you’re right, I don’t know how you feel because you fucking refuse to talk to me.” He threw his hands in the air. “How about I tell you how I feel instead, huh? How about I tell you that I love you? That I’ve fucking loved you for years and you’ve gotten so deep under my skin that I can barely function without you?”
Mac’s defensive posture deflated, his arms falling back to his sides. He took a step closer to Jack. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he blurted out, accompanied by another step forward. “I spend way too much time thinking about you when you’re not around, and I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss you for years now. I thought you’d figured out I was in love with you back at the club and you were trying to figure out how to let me down gently.”
Jack briefly closed his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. “Jesus, Mac, no. If I’d known, I probably would’ve pulled the plug on the mission and dragged you out of that club, Reznik and his USB be damned. We would’ve figured out another way to get him.” Suddenly he remembered exactly what he had to do with Reznik, and thinking about it made him feel sick. “Speaking of Reznik…”
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Mac said, wincing a little. “And I’m sorry I made a big deal about it just now. You’re right, we could’ve found another way to get into his hotel room.”
“It’s okay, it wasn’t the worst thing I ever had to do undercover,” Jack said, shrugging and trying to brush it off. “I kept pretending it was you, you know? When I was with him, I kept my eyes shut and… pretended it was you.” He heard the exhaustion in his own voice and rubbed his face. “It was hard because he didn’t… he didn’t kiss like you, he didn’t feel like you, but I had no choice—I wouldn’t have gotten through it otherwise.”
Mac blinked rapidly, like he did when something surprised him. He settled his hands on Jack’s shoulders and said, “I broke my glass back at the bar. I was squeezing it so hard while I watched you with Reznik that it cracked in my hand.”
Jack settled his hands gently on Mac’s hips. “I’m sorry you had to watch that—oh God, and you had to listen to what was happening later.” He winced hard, remembering how Reznik’s bony fingers felt as they crawled into his back pocket and slid under his t-shirt.
“Hey,” Mac said, hands sliding up to cradle Jack’s face. He had no idea how comforting that was; Mac’s hands were long-fingered, clever things that were completely different from Reznik’s. “I know you said you’ve done worse stuff undercover, but it’s okay if this one bothers you, Jack.”
Leaning into Mac’s touch, Jack sighed. “It shouldn’t bother me—I’ve done this job for way too long.” He recalled what Reznik said in the hotel, before he started talking trash about Mac. “Look, I know you heard what Reznik said about me doing some… vile things, I think that’s the word he used. And Mac, I—”
Mac leaned in and pressed his lips to Jack’s, cutting off the self-deprecating path he was about go down. It was a chaste gesture, and when Mac pulled back he smiled, small and genuine. “Jack, I’m not naïve. I may not know exactly what you’ve done, but I don’t have to—I know the kind of person you are, and that’s good enough for me.”
Jack stared at him in astonishment, absentmindedly rubbing at the skin above the waistband of Mac’s jeans with his thumb. “You’re something else,” he said softly. “And I love you so fucking much.” He wrapped his arms around Mac in a tight hug instead of kissing him, because as much as Jack wanted to revisit what they’d started back at the club, he needed to get the awful taste of Reznik out of his mouth first.
Mac shivered a little in his arms, which made sense considering they were outside in the dark and he was basically half-dressed. “You wanna go up to your place?” A pause. “That wasn’t me trying to get you in bed.”
Jack chuckled against his shoulder before pulling back to grin at him. “Oh, but I wouldn’t mind,” he said teasingly. “Also, after all that there’s no way I’m letting you go, so I’m glad you assumed you’re coming upstairs with me.” Noticing Mac shivering again, Jack stepped away and took off his jacket, draping it over Mac’s shoulders.
That was when Mac noticed the rip on the right sleeve of the jacket and his eyes immediately snapped to Jack’s arm, widening at the sight of blood. “I thought you said you were fine,” he griped, grasping Jack’s wrist to inspect the cut on his arm. “You should clean that out, the stuff I used to make that bomb was caustic.”
“I am fine, this is nothing.” Jack grabbed Mac’s hand and pulled him toward the building. “Now, come on.”
~***~
As soon as they got into Jack’s apartment Mac practically shoved him into the bathroom to clean out the cut on his arm, muttering under his breath about stubborn people winding up with chemical burns in open wounds. And as much as Mac was loathe to admit it, it was only fair that he let Jack do the same thing to the cut on Mac’s cheekbone, closing it up with a butterfly bandage. After, Mac wandered back into Jack’s bedroom and sprawled on his back on the mattress, waiting for Jack to brush his teeth and scrub the last remnants of Reznik away. When Jack emerged from the bathroom he paused, staring at Mac.
It took Mac a second to notice, and when he did he sat up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume—”
“Relax, man,” Jack said, chuckling a little. “Of course you’re sleeping here, I was just thinking that outfit probably ain’t the best for it.”
“Gee, I don’t know what you mean,” Mac replied dryly, running a hand through his hair before plucking at his tank top, stripping it off over his head. There was a thud as Jack tripped over his own dresser while he was digging around for sleeping clothes, staring at Mac again. “Jack? You okay?”
“Am I okay?” Jack choked out. “I have a freaking Adonis in my bed and he asks me if I’m okay… Christ.”
Mac snorted a laugh as Jack handed him some pajama pants and a worn out Texas A&M shirt (must’ve been a souvenir, because Jack joined the army straight out of high school). “You’re crazy,” he said, because while Mac liked to keep himself in shape, he always thought he was a little too skinny, bones poking out everywhere. He threw on the too-big shirt and then bent to unlace his boots. He’d borrowed them from Bozer for the mission—silver with a duo chromatic reflection, nothing Mac would buy himself. Then came the hard part: getting out of his pants. He had to start with undoing the button and zipper, bending again to pull the ankles off over his feet. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get into these jeans? Like twenty minutes, and that was with Bozer and Riley helping, they’re so damn tight.”
“Do you—” Jack started, then paused to clear his throat. “Do you need any help getting out of them?”
Mac looked up from where he was bent at the waist, blowing the hair out of his eyes. “Hmm…” He tugged at the legs of the jeans and they were loose enough for him to wriggle out of them. “Nope.” He smiled, bright and sunny, and kicked the pants off and away. The shirt was large enough that it covered any indelicate areas, but left little to the imagination. “You know, if I was at home I’d probably just sleep in this.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Jack said, arching an eyebrow—part acknowledgement that Mac was being a shit, and part challenge to keep going. Jack went on to strip off the tight t-shirt he’d been wearing at the club, and Mac checked him out because how could he not? Jack might’ve had fifteen years or so on Mac in the age department but you’d never know it looking at him shirtless. He shucked off his boots and jeans, changing into pajama pants and a t-shirt of his own.
Mac couldn’t suppress a groan. “God, why do you have to be so fucking hot?”
“Natural talent,” Jack drawled, climbing on the bed and reaching for Mac, pulling him close. They lie down, Jack on his back with Mac half-sprawled on top of him. “Could ask you the same thing, it’s really not fair.”
Mac curled an arm around Jack’s middle, hugging him tight. They were both glancing from each other’s eyes to his lips and back again, neither willing to make the first move—which was a little ridiculous considering what they did back at the club. It was Jack who broke first, leaning in to press his lips against Mac’s.
It wasn’t a short, chaste kiss like the one Mac used to shut Jack up in the parking lot, their tongues sliding together almost immediately. Mac’s eyes fluttered closed, and he shivered when Jack nipped at his lower lip, hands flattening out against Mac’s back. One of those hands slid into Mac’s hair a moment later, tugging a little and making Mac moan softly into the kiss; Jack’s other hand ran down until it settled in the small of his back. Meanwhile, Mac’s long fingers moved lower to squeeze at Jack’s hipbone, their mouths parting briefly before they dove back in for more.
Eventually Jack pulled Mac down so they were lying on their sides, but not for long since Jack crawled on top of him a moment later, breaking the kiss to mouth at Mac’s jaw. Mac wrapped his arms around him, fingers digging into Jack’s back when Jack moved his lips to Mac’s neck, sucking a bruise into the skin below his jaw. Mac sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, the little spark of pleasure-pain making him shudder. His hands wandered down Jack’s back to his ass, Mac’s legs spreading to accommodate the breadth of Jack’s hips as he relaxed further into the mattress.
Jack’s mouth trailed lower, his fingers pulling aside the stretched-out collar of his old shirt to nip at Mac’s collarbone. His hands were wandering all over Mac’s body just because they could, but one slid down to Mac’s thigh and encountered bare skin under the hem of the shirt. Growling, Jack gripped Mac’s thigh and hooked it over his hip, biting down harder and making Mac moan.
“Jack, please,” Mac gasped, shuddering when Jack’s lips trailed back up to his jaw, teeth grazing at the skin there. “Please.”
In stark contrast with the tight grip he had on Mac’s thigh, Jack gently pressed his lips against Mac’s when he reached them, his other hand rising to brush the hair back from Mac’s face. “What do you want, darlin’?”
“Anything, everything,” Mac panted, one hand sliding up from Jack’s ass to get under his t-shirt, rubbing against his back. “You, Jack. I want you, in any way you’re okay with.” He wasn’t about to forget what Jack went through with Reznik, and he was throwing the ball in Jack’s court.
A tremor rippled through Jack’s body, and when he looked at Mac his eyes were almost black with lust—but there was love behind it, too. “God, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked on an exhale, the love in that lustful gaze morphing into something like reverence. He kissed Mac again, a little clumsy but earnest. “I wanna fuck you—would you like that, sweetheart?”
That was enough to make Mac let out a sound that’s something between a moan and a whine. “God, yes.”
He grabbed the hem of Jack’s shirt and pulled it up over his head, making a frustrated noise when one of Jack’s arms got caught in the material and they had to pause to get it out. Before Jack could so much as touch Mac’s shirt, Mac had it yanked up and over his body… and was completely naked. He pulled Jack down into a brutal yet affectionate kiss, his hands on Jack’s ass again, but this time they went under his pajama pants to push them down and help Jack kick them away.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Jack muttered against Mac’s lips, rolling his hips down and groaning at the friction. Mac let out a high-pitched whine when Jack thrusted against him a second time, mumbling something against Jack’s lips that Mac thought was clear but evidently it wasn’t, because it took Jack a second to work out that he was saying “please” repeatedly, like a chant. “Okay, okay, hang on.”
Jack pulled away long enough to rummage in his nightstand, dumping a strip of condoms on the bed and popping open a bottle of lube. After he coated his fingers he leaned back in and Mac grabbed for him immediately, reattaching them at the mouth and sucking in a sharp breath when Jack pressed a finger against his hole. His hips twitched and Jack’s finger caught on his rim before gliding inside… and suddenly, Jack froze above him.
Mac writhed under him impatiently for a moment before he realized something was amiss. He grabbed Jack’s face to make Jack look at him, because the expression on his face was… haunted and scared. “Jack? What’s wrong?” Jack’s eyes slammed shut and he leaned down until his forehead could rest against Mac’s chest. Mac was worried, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Hey, can you talk to me, please? Are you okay?”
Jack shook his head, a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle coming from his throat. “I guess that little bastard got to me after all.”
Naturally, Mac thought Jack was referring to having to make out with Reznik. “Hey, hey, Jack,” he said, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s over, okay? You don’t ever have to see him again, and he’ll never touch you again.”
But Jack shook his head again, cheek pressed against Mac’s sternum, eyes still shut. “I don’t… I’m not thinking about what I did with him, Mac. I remembered what he said about you, and I just…” He trailed off, his free hand groping around until it found one of Mac’s, and he lifted it to press a kiss to the back. “I wanted to kill him for talking about you like that.”
Mac’s heart did this funny thing in his chest, a part of him surprised that Jack was still thinking about that—but then again this was Jack, who always put Mac first even if Mac didn’t understand why. “Jack, it’s okay,” he repeated, because like he’d said in the car, it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. “It doesn’t matter.”
Jack’s hand squeezed his, not too tightly but firmly, like he wanted to make a point. “Of course it matters, Mac. It doesn’t matter if—” he paused to take what sounded like a calming breath “—if you’ve heard it before or not, that doesn’t make it right. And I’m never just gonna stand by while somebody says awful shit about you.” He took another breath, and Mac realized belatedly Jack was timing his breathing with Mac’s, probably while he listened to his heart. “So you can think it’s silly if you want, but you’ll have to pardon me for getting worked up over it.”
Mac shut his eyes. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not silly, Jack. You… you have no idea how much it means to me that you… that you care so much.”
“You don’t need to apologize, darlin’,” Jack said, and he leaned in to press their mouths together in a soft kiss that turned heated quickly. He licked his way into Mac’s mouth at the same time that he moved his finger again, a second one joining the first once Mac made an approving sound. Mac’s hips stuttered, his hands coming up to grip Jack’s shoulders as those fingers brushed against his prostate. A third finger joined the first two and that caused Mac to let out a strangled moan.
“Jack, I’m ready, please,” he said, breathless and wide-eyed. “Please, I—I need you to fuck me.” In response, Jack made a low noise and pulled his fingers out, reaching to get the condoms before Mac’s hand grabbed his wrist. “Didn’t… didn’t you have your physical a couple weeks ago?”
Jack looked astonished that Mac can string a sentence together, let alone remember when Jack went to the doctor. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I’m clean if you don’t want—”
Mac threw the condoms off the bed. “Just get inside me already, I’m dying over here.”
“God, okay,” Jack breathed out, all faux-exasperated. He didn’t waste any time, lubing himself up before settling between Mac’s legs and pressing his cock against his entrance.
Slowly he started pushing in, and Mac’s lips parted as he forced himself to breathe, letting out a long moan as Jack fills him up. Once he was completely inside, hips pressed flushed to Mac’s, Jack hid his face in Mac’s neck, pulse thudding away under his mouth. He pressed a kiss there, then another one further up, and another until he made back to Mac’s mouth. Mac wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and kissed him back like they had all the time in the world—and they did.
“Move, Jack,” Mac whispered after a moment, shifting to hold Jack around his back instead.
Jack’s first few thrusts were cautious and shallow, his weight braced on his arms, their foreheads touching as he drove his hips forward a little harder. It was slow and deep and delicious, Jack’s cock grazing Mac’s prostate every third or fourth time Jack pushes home, just shy of being teasing or not enough. The friction of Jack’s body against Mac’s and the occasional kiss was enough to keep the pleasure building at the base of Mac’s spine, and a particularly rough thrust had him gasping Jack’s name, fingers digging into his ribs.
Sliding his arms underneath Mac, Jack pulled him closer, burying his face in Mac’s neck again and panting harshly against his skin as he started thrusting faster. One of Mac’s hands came up to cup the back of Jack’s head, the other one flattening against his spine. The angle changed, so every third or fourth thrust was now hitting Mac’s prostate directly, lighting up white spots in Mac’s vision and making his skin tingle everywhere they were touching. He made a helpless little sound and curled around Jack even more, inner muscles squeezing his cock almost impossibly tight.
“Oh God, Mac,” Jack groaned, picking up the pace again and pressing urgent kisses where very he could reach.
Those deep, fast thrusts along with Jack’s hoarse voice and his lips on Mac’s skin was enough for something inside Mac to snap. The next time Jack nailed his prostate Mac came with a strangled shout of Jack’s name, and it only took two more thrusts for Jack to follow him down. They were both sticky with sweat and come, but Mac just pressed his cheek against Jack’s and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.
Mac could feel Jack trembling on top of him, and used the hand he had on Jack’s back to push his own hair out of his face before he brought it back down to stroke at Jack’s skin. “It’s okay, Jack, I know,” he said, his own voice rough. “It’s real, I promise.”
Jack took in a stuttering breath, lifting his head and looking at Mac with those gorgeous doe eyes before pressing a kiss to the corner of Mac’s mouth. “I love you. I never thought… I didn’t…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Hearing Jack say that to him—to Mac, of all the people in the world—made Mac’s heart swell so big in his chest he was afraid it might burst. “I love you too, enough that it scares me a little,” he admitted, hands framing Jack’s face, one thumb rubbing at those happy lines near his eye. “I guess in some weird way, it’s a good thing tonight’s op was so shitty.”
A chuckle rumbled out of Jack’s chest and he turned his head to kiss Mac’s wrist. “I could do with less drama… but since it made us stop being idiots, I guess you’re right.”