Work Text:
This is a state of grace
This is the worthwhile fight
Love is a ruthless game
Unless you play it good and right
These are the hands of fate
You're my Achilles heel
This is the golden age of something good and right and real
State of Grace by Taylor Swift
***
MacKenzie's parents, particularly her mother, had wanted to take MacKenzie home from the hospital when she was discharged, and while Will would rather have done it himself, he wasn't about to make an ass of himself with her parents. But she wasn't home long before Will called to see how she was doing.
"Hey, it's me," he says. "Your parents get you settled in okay?"
"Settled or hovered, you make your own word choice," Mac says, and though she's laughing about it Will can hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice. He suspects they were hovering somewhat. "They're gone now and it's a lot quieter, that's for sure."
"They just wanted to know you were going to be okay," Will says. "How are you feeling?" He doesn't want to add to Mac's feeling of being hovered over, but he worries about her enough that he bit everyone's head off at work today and almost made Maggie cry. Again.
"Honestly? Just this side of death," Mac says."Is everything good at work? Back to normal in the studio?"
"It's not as good as it is with you but it's good enough that you don't need to worry," Will says. "Jim's been filling in for you. He's decent enough." Better than decent, but he's trying to avoid hyperbole. "You just need to take it easy and don't push it. Do you need anything?" He doubts it; he's pretty sure her parents tried to set her up for the next week, at least, with everything possible.
"To go back to work," Mac says. "I was thinking about organizing my kitchen cabinets. It will be the first time they're ever organized in my entire life."
"You aren't supposed to be doing too much of that kind of shit right now," Will tells her. He gets that she's bored, any reasonably smart person is bored when laid up (as he knows) and Mac is brilliant. "Why don't you come stay with me for a while? Then you can really get some rest and now have to worry about anything."
He's not just thinking about her physical recovery. He's thinking about what Charlie said about her being exhausted and having been shot at and having been to too many funerals and though she's nearly two years past that, Will thinks she needs some fucking downtime. In his completely biased, unprofessional opinion.
"That's a little much," Mac counters. "I'll be fine, I promise. I just need to be up and moving around again."
"Promise me you won't do too much, then," Will says, and he's glad he's on the phone with her so she can't see how he's rolling his eyes a little. She's always been so fucking independent, which he admires but not when it's to her detriment. She's been shot, for fuck's sake, and that's not something to fuck around with. "At least let me hire a housekeeper for you, and a driver--you shouldn't have to put up with the fucking subway to get to your appointments." She doesn't need to be cleaning or cooking or doing any of the other shit Will knows she'll be trying to fill her time with when she doesn't have work to occupy her.
"You're ridiculous, Will, I'm not having a cook and a driver. What is this, Real Housewives? You might as well just come over and cook and have Lonny drive me," Mac scoffs. "I guess I could come stay in your guest room?"
"I'm not being ridiculous, I'm just trying to look after you. Yes, I want you back at work, because you trained Jim well but he's not you, but I don't want you back until you're feeling a hundred percent. You need to rest and take it easy." When she says she can come over and stay in his guest room, he knows he's won. "You can stay in whatever room you want," he tells her. "I'll have Lonny bring me over to get you tonight after the show. Don't even think about carrying anything."
Maybe she actually listened to him when he lectured her about taking it easy, because when he gets there later that night after the show she hasn't actually packed anything, which means he's packing her bags for her while she sits in bed and directs him around like she's fucking Cleopatra or something.
"How long do you think I'll stay?" she asks. "I don't know if packing my entire closet is worth the effort."
The absurdity of this situation really isn't lost on Will. He's asked her not to do anything and relax, and she's taken his advice seriously enough that she hasn't even packed anything and that's how he's ended up elbow-deep in her lingerie drawer. It would be fair to say that he's brought this on himself. He doesn't look at anything he's packing for her, really. He just sort of scoops up the whole fucking drawer and dumps it into a bag. "Your closet is about eighty percent work clothes," he says, "and since you're out of work for another two weeks, it's not like you need them." That doesn't answer her question, though, and he knows it. It might possibly have been on purpose. He doesn't want to put a time limit on her stay, but he doesn't want to tell her to stay forever, either, even though he'd love nothing more than for her to move in. This shift in their relationship is new, and a little fragile, and he doesn't want to push it.
"So take the other twenty percent," Mac says, shrugging and shifting to stand. Getting from half-lying to standing is a little of a struggle for her, and Will imagines it hurts like hell, but before he can extricate himself from her bag and go over to help her she's already made it over to him and is squeezing his shoulder. "It's not like I can't do laundry while I'm camped out in your spare room. It'll be all right."
Will has a washer and dryer, but he's used them exactly once. He has all his laundry sent out, and he's pretty sure that lifting laundry is also on her list of "things not to do until fully healed." "Didn't you get some list of shit you're not supposed to be doing for a few weeks until you get the all-clear?" he asks. He tends to ignore those things himself, case in point being he didn't bother to stick to the diet prescribed for him for his ulcer, but this is MacKenzie and so it's different. What the fuck is an ulcer compared to a gunshot wound? "I'm pretty sure laundry and housework are both on the list."
"What do you expect me to do all day?" She's bordering on whiny and petulant and Will can't blame her. Mac's one of those people that needs shit to do to be happy. "I'm going to lose my mind, Will."
Will rests his hands lightly on her shoulders, trying to be reassuring. "It's going to be so fucking boring, and I'm sorry about that," he says. "I'm sorry about all of this. And if you really don't want to stay with me for a while, I'm okay with that. I just want you to rest and take care of yourself so you can get back to kicking my ass every day. Jim's letting me get away with way too much shit." Actually, he isn't, Will just wants to make her laugh.
Mac arches a brow. "Please tell me you haven't had Ron Paul on to debate."
"Yeah, I did," Will says, rolling his eyes. "And tomorrow I'm inviting Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin and I'm going to let Sloan loose on them." It's an amusing image but outlandish enough that she'll know he's kidding. "Okay, look. Why don't you just come back to work, then? Maybe a few hours a day, see what happens." He's about ninety percent sure that if she does, the first day will end in an object lesson in just how much time a body needs to recover and she'll dial it back. He felt like shit for a few days after leaving the hospital and he only had a bleeding ulcer. Mac was shot, for fuck's sake.
Mac brightens at that. "If Lonny drives me, I won't have to take the train or anything. I think it will be just fine. I'll get up and go to work with you tomorrow."
It takes longer for Mac to get downstairs and out to the car than it does for Will and Lonny to get her things down, and Will's trying not to hover but he's sticking close and getting the doors for her and helping her into the car. If he had some way to get her to the car that didn't involve any effort on her part, he'd use it.
"Are you going to make me one of your famous bacon sandwiches for dinner?" she asks, when she's settled in the back of Lonny's SUV.
Will is pretty sure her plan to get up and go to work with him tomorrow is going to end in flames, but he doesn't say anything about it because in the long run, it'll convince her to slow down for a while. "If you want," he says. "Or we can order in. I'm not picky." Well, he is picky, actually, but he'll try to rein it in for her for a while.
"We'll order something, I guess, but I don't want takeout. I wish we could go out but I want to take my pain medicine and I'll end up standing on a table in my underwear if you take me out when I'm high. Can you come up with something?" she adds sweetly, and he's not sure if her eyes are that big and round because of him or because of the vast quantities of painkillers he's sure she's on.
"I'll make dinner," Wil decides. He's actually a decent cook; he just doesn't bother most of the time because cooking for one is a total pain in the ass. "And when you're feeling better, I'll take you out. Sound like a plan?" Although if she really wants to go out tonight, he'll take her. He can't resist her voice like that.
"Will you be able to prevent me from stripping in the middle of Jean Georges, then? Because I don't think you can. I feel crazy on Vicodin, you have no idea," she teases. "You'll cook, I'll eat and I think I will have a good, long night's sleep."
"Then I'm definitely not taking you out tonight," Will says, cutting her off a little, because he knows how she gets on pain meds and he really doesn't want her to describe it in Lonny's earshot, especially the time he took her home from their non-start at the New York Marathon and he gave her one of his Vicodin for her sprained ankle. One fucking Vicodin and it was like she'd lost her mind. He'll probably never actually let her live that down. "But soon, I promise."
"You're just afraid to be seen with me, Billy," Mac teases, grinning wide. "You're afraid that being seen with a sensual, intelligent, vibrant woman will make you look like the bitter old man you really are. Admit it. You're afraid everyone will think you have a stick up your ass compared to me."
"Hey, McAvoy, if you don't want to be seen with her, I'll be happy to take her out," Lonny chimes in from the front seat, and Will could swear the man is fucking laughing at him.
"Shut up and drive, will you?" Will grumbles, but there's no heat to it. Well, not much, anyway. He's used to Lonny putting him in his place on a regular basis but after Mac calling him a bitter old man, he doesn't have a lot of grace. "You know, we're going to be in the tabloids the minute we go anywhere outside of work," he says. "Do you really want the headline to be 'News Night Producer Thrown Out of Jean Georges for Strip-Tease?"
"No. I guess we don't have to go out. I didn't think about the tabloids."
"It's okay," he says, and rubs his fingers lightly against her arm in reassurance. "I really don't give a shit what they say about me, to be honest. Fuck them. But I don't want them writing about you. You don't need that on your plate." It's not a great shot at reassuring her, but he feels like he's limited in what he can say by Lonny's presence--not that he doesn't trust him or like him, because he does both, a lot, but in a lot of ways having a bodyguard is fucking awkward. He thinks about the possibility that when they do go public with their relationship, MacKenzie will probably get some hate for it, possibly even on a professional level. The idea that someone might insinuate that Mac got her job because of her previous or current relationship with him pisses him off on her behalf and no one's even done it yet.
"It's to be expected with News Night 2.0," Mac says, laughing a little. "Make waves and then you become interesting. We've become interesting, Will, and apparently tabloid coverage is a part of that. Just try not to be too extravagant with the gift giving and the wining and dining? You might get crucified for extravagance during this period of austerity."
When they pull up to Will's building, Mac is careful about stepping out and leans heavily on Will to make sure she doesn't lose her step. He knows it hurts her to move around and he really wishes she didn't have her damn stubborn mind set on going back to work tomorrow, because he fucking hates seeing her in pain. She's quiet in the elevator and the only sign something has changed between them is the fact that she slips her hand in Will's and leans her head against his shoulder as they ride up. Lonny doesn't say anything.
There are times Will still wishes he was back in the business of being boring and affable and getting fan mail instead of fucking death threats, but he thinks maybe it's worth it, except for the parts where the threats become more than threats and people he's let close to him pay the price. People, specifically, being MacKenzie. He's not sure if the wake-up call to he American electorate is worth the way Mac has to lean on him when she gets out of the car and how she's basically winded walking from the car to the elevator.
Lonny helps him get Mac and her bags into his apartment and does a quick sweep of the place before he leaves for the night. Will takes Mac's bags to the guest room and arranges them so she won't have to drag them everywhere to find what she wants, since she's not supposed to be doing any lifting.
***
"You shouldn't have, Will. Really. I don't need flowers."
But she certainly doesn't mind having them.
"Never got around to decorating in here," Will says, and Mac thinks that this is somewhat stating the obvious. Will’s apartment has always looked like someone else threw everything in here and asked him to do something with it and he never did."I thought it would, I don't know. Make it a little nicer."
He’s being oddly formal about the whole thing and Mac wonders what she can do to ease that. Sometimes being with Will is more difficult than a normal man would be (see: the last four years) but the payoff is always worth it.
"It's gorgeous," Mac says, giving him a smile. In truth, she doesn't know how to be a girlfriend. She and Brian had never really been functional in any sense of the word and she hasn't had a real relationship other than Wade since she was with Will. Since Wade had been a bad idea all around, Mac thinks it might be best to start with a blank slate.
"If it's all the same to you, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to nap. Is that all right?"
Will nods. "Just yell if you need anything," he says. "I'll wake you for dinner." Dinner with Will is always a plus, even if it’s just dinner at home instead of going out somewhere fancy.
"I will."
She doesn't. She ends up falling asleep in all her clothes, propped up against a few pillows on top of the spare bed. When she wakes, there's sharp pain in her ribs and she knows it's from the position she slept in; apparently there's no good way to sleep with a bullet wound. She gets up and goes to change but cries out when she pulls her shirt over her head, the wound pulling tight.
"Oh, fuck. Fucking fuck ow fuck."
Will is there quicker than Mac expects him to be but she’s grateful all the same."Hey," he says, and knocks lightly at the door. "You okay in there?"
"My bandage is pulling," Mac explains giving him a pained look. She feels horrible and she's really trying not to whine about it but at this point, there's very little else she even feels like doing.
"I think I slept the wrong way and I wanted to change clothes. I'm a mess, aren't I?"
"No," Will says. "You're not. You're recovering from being shot." He crosses the room, closer to her, and all Mac wants is to be wrapped in his arms and comforted. Will’s actually strangely good at that in spite of the fact that he’s been hurting her more often than not for the last little while. "Do you want some help?"
"Yes," she says, nodding slowly. Everything has to be done slowly because everything hurts. "You're going to have to help me get my shirt off. I think I can manage everything else myself."
Mac is glad she has a tendency to wear button-downs since they're much easier to get in and out of while her wound is healing. "And then we're going to have to re-do this bandage."
"Okay." He helps her ease off her shirt, revealing the patch of gauze and tape beneath her arm. "You know I have no fucking idea what I'm doing here, right?" he tells her, while she gets some more gauze and tape from one of her bags. Mac is grateful it’s not terribly complicated and really more awkward to try and do it for herself. It's one of the reasons she caved on staying with him - this would have been a disaster at home if she’d tried it there.
The bandages don't cover the faint scar on her stomach and there’s more light now than there was during the hurricane. Judging by the expression on Will’s face, it’s the first time he’s noticed it."Did you get that in Afganistan?" he asks, gently pressing the last little bit of tape in place.
"That? Yes," Mac says, glancing down at the old wound. "A legacy of how much we're hated in the Middle East. Not that I can blame them. I would hate us too if all I knew about America was war."
She touches the old wound lightly. "It healed fairly clean. I was lucky."
"Yeah," he says. "You were lucky." He sighs a little and smooths down the edge of her bandage with the lightest touch he can. It’s strangely comforting. Much about being here with Will has been comforting and it’s a marked change from how they usually are around one another.
"Do you mind it? I kind of think it gives me character," Mac says, laughing shallowly so she doesn't disturb the tape on her ribs again.
"Makes me a serious, hardcore journalist, yes?"
"You were a serious journalist before you got stabbed and shot," Will assures her. One of the brilliant things about Will is that he’s always respected her, first and foremost, as a consummate professional and a trailblazer in their field. Sleeping with her never changed that. Being in love with her had never changed that. It’s so different from any other man she’s ever been with and Mac knows she won’t be able to go to anyone else after having experienced that with Will. It’s just impossible. "Need help getting dressed?"
It's beyond embarrassing but she does need help getting dressed. Taking off her pants to exchange them for sweats is easy enough but she wants to wear a t-shirt and not a button down and it's just not going to happen by herself.
"I want something looser. I think I have a tee in my bag? If I stick my arms straight up you can drop it over my head."
It takes Will a minute, but he finds the t-shirt she's looking for and carefully rolls it up to make it easier to go on.
Mac waits for a smart-ass remark that doesn’t come and she guesses Will has decided for the good of all to hold his tongue today. Had he said something, Mac would have reminded him she did this alone in Afghanistan. As it is, it's nice to have someone to help and she holds herself up straight so he can ease the shirt on.
"Getting dressed tomorrow morning is going to be a pain in the ass, isn't it?"
"Yes," he says, and eases the shirt over her arms and head. "It will absolutely be a pain in the ass." Mac knows that he doesn’t exactly agree she should be trying to go to work and yet she doesn’t care because she’d much rather be doing her job than hiding at home.
"You'll help?"
Mac tries her best attempt at doe eyes and a sultry voice but she just sounds drunk and insane instead. It's probably hilarious but she's not laughing and, instead, focuses on getting the shirt on and lowering her arms back down. It's a lot of effort, weirdly enough.
"Of course." Will smooths the shirt lightly over her shoulders, touches her hair where it got rumpled up changing her shirt. "That's why you're here. So I can help you with this shit until you feel better." He smiles a little, and she melts. She always melts for Will McAvoy. It’s like 2 and 2 always equals 4."Come on. Time for dinner."
Food is probably the best course of action at the moment considering that Mac is dizzy and dead on her feet and the way her wound is throbbing, she wants medicine now and not later. Taking it on an empty stomach all but guarantees she'll throw it up, though, and she settles for getting a glass of water and drinking it very, very slowly.
"Thank you, Will. You didn't have to let me come stay. I wanted to and I was afraid to ask."
"I know," he says, and steers her to one of the stools at the granite-topped kitchen island while he makes dinner.
Will is one of the few people who knows just about everything about her and one the things he knows and that he also shares a secret penchant for is a good, old-fashioned grilled cheese - Wonder Bread, fake cheese slices and lots of butter. It’s crap, certainly, but it’s comfort food in the most literal sense and Mac needs that right now.
So while she sits at the kitchen island with her glass of water, Will heats a skillet and gets out the cheese, butter, and bread.
"You, sir, are a gourmet chef. I'll be as big as a house when I leave your care," Mac says but there's no wry wit in her tone. Instead, it's perfectly adoring because she really, really likes grilled cheese. It's a comfort food in the worst sort of way and she's glad that Will remembered it. Then again, Will remembers a lot of things about her and her preferences.
"Is this what you do for the women you date, hmm?"
"No, just you." He frowns at that while he makes her sandwich and Mac wonders if she’s poked at something she shouldn’t have. She didn’t mean to, at any rate. "I mean, I didn't cook for anyone else. Just you."
"I feel special."
Mac thinks if she weren't half-delirious from pain and leftover medication she might be offended that he took other women out to impress them and hid her at home but it's not like that. There's an intimacy between them here that she doesn't think those others could have touched and it reminds her of how things were before, the last time they were together.
"You've always made me feel special, though, and everyone knew it. My parents adored you. You know, they kept asking about you when we'd broken up and when they came to see me last week, they wanted to see you too."
"Your dad thinks I'm a bunch of hot air," Will says gruffly. He puts her sandwich on a plate, slides it across the countertop to her, and starts on his. "What did you tell them? When we broke up?"
"That I had broken it off," Mac says quietly. She busies herself with tearing off a corner of her sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. "My father thought that you'd done something and my mother thought I was an idiot. I couldn't tell them the truth. I didn't want them to know I'd hurt you that way when they thought so highly of you."
It was embarrassing for her but ten times worse for Will. She couldn't do that to him.
Will nods and finishes grilling his sandwich, then he flips off the burner, gets himself a beer, and comes to sit next to her at the island. "I think my mother would have liked you," he says.
"I'm sorry I never got the chance to meet her," Mac says, a little stunned by that admission. Will doesn't talk about his mother often, or at least he doesn't talk about his mother to her often. They hadn't been chatting much until recently though.
"You know, I think this is the first time I've had time off in, well, ever? It's ridiculous."
"Everybody can use a little downtime," Will says. "Though there are more pleasant ways to go about it than this." Mac agrees with that even if she’s not stupid enough to admit it directly to Will’s face and she nods slightly, agreeing without opening herself up to questions.
"Do pleasant ways involve tropical islands and mojitos? Because I could be persuaded. Especially if I got to sleep 80% of the time."
Mac honestly hasn't had a full night's sleep in so long that she's forgotten what it feels like to run on something other than adrenaline and strong coffee. It's the peril of life in the newsmaking business, because current events become less current as the clock ticks and world events don't usually like to wait for the regular working hours of 9-5 Monday through Friday.
"It could be arranged," Will allows, and finishes his beer. That’s more of a warm welcome to her suggestion than she really expected.
"We should arrange it, once I'm not half dead," Mac agrees. She taps lightly against the island, fidgety and nervous, and wonders if things between she and Will are ever going to feel easy again. They had, once, and it hadn't always taken her a good twenty minutes to work up the nerve to ask for a kiss. Hell, she didn't even used to ask for kisses and thinks maybe she shouldn't now. He can always push her away if he's not into it and she has to know.
She has to know if this is pity or if this is something real. She has to know if the message was just being high and the declaration was just because she was bleeding out on the studio floor. With that in mind, she crosses the few steps over to him and puts herself in his personal space.
"I am going to kiss you now," she says, airy and breathy in a way that has only a little to do with trying to be sexy and a lot to do with the recently-repaired lung and the vast quantity of Vicodin she's been taking. "Will you allow it?"
***
Mac slides her hands up against his chest and kisses him, light but no less passionate because of it. Will can feel the tension in her hands, how they're a little restless against his shirt, and he feels it too. He's afraid he'll hurt her, so he keeps the kiss light and the touches lighter, but it feels really fucking good to be kissing her again even if it feels like she's unsteady enough that she'll topple over at any second. He feels the light thrum of her pulse under his fingers and it reminds him how he almost lost her, how she very easily could have died, right there behind the anchor desk, and they would never have this again.
"I love you. Feels funny to say it openly now but I love you, Will."
"I know," he murmurs, brushing his lips against her hair, and the I know isn't for the I love you but because he knows it feels strange to say it.
She sighs, a sound so faint he's not entirely sure he heard it, and he wishes it was easier to say the words back to her. "I should probably go to bed so I can be rested for work tomorrow," she says. "I'll toss and turn all night as it is."
"Probably a good idea." He, on the other hand, will sleep a lot better knowing she's not wearing herself out doing shit she doesn't need to do in an attempt to feel productive. "Take your pills and go to sleep. I'm going to be up for a while, working on some things, but if you need anything..."
"I know where to find you," Mac promises, kissing his cheek lightly before taking herself back to bed.
Will is up for a while, putting things away from dinner, making a list of things for his housekeeper to pick up tomorrow, and finally, doing some research for tomorrow's show. He has a beer to go along with the research, and by the time he goes to bed it's after one in the morning. He feels like he's hardly been asleep when something wakes him--he's a light sleeper, even with the sleeping pills he's been prescribed--and he blinks awake to see Mac standing beside the bed. "Hey," he murmurs, voice a little gravelly from sleep. "You feeling okay?"
Mac shakes her head. "No. I was hoping I wouldn't wake you up, though. I'm sorry."
Will sits up, immediately jolted awake by her admission that she's not feeling so hot. "MacKenzie, if I minded you waking me up I wouldn't have insisted on you staying here. You should sit," he adds, and nods to the space beside him in the bed. "Anything I can do?"
Mac sits, somewhat reluctantly. "I'm not in pain, if that's what you're wondering. It was just a nightmare."
The thing about Mac is, she's never been good at hiding things (except The Thing) and he can see the guilt all over her face. "Want to talk about it?"
"What? No," Mac says, shaking her head. "Can I sleep here? If I wake up again, maybe I won't wake you up."
Will nods, shifting over to make more room for her. "Of course you can," he says. "If you're comfortable." He'd rather have her in here than in the guest room anyway, and he would have offered it from the start, but he felt weird about saying so. But it's different, coming from her, and he's certainly not going to say no when having her there with him is exactly what he wants.
Mac slides into bed. It takes her a little while to get comfortable, then she reaches for his hand and touches it lightly. "Thanks. Sometimes it's hard at night to forget. I don't guess you have anything like that?"
"Nothing like that," Will says, and rubs his thumb against the back of her hand. When he was a child, there were times his home life felt like a war zone, but it's not even close to the same thing. He'd never have the guts to be embedded. And if it's not that that's bothering her, but the shooting, he hasn't had that, either, though he's never going to lose the image of MacKenzie bleeding all over the studio floor.
"Sometimes it hits me and I panic. It's stupid, I'm safe now," Mac says, squeezing his hand. "But sometimes I wake up and I think I'm back there. It's strange. I didn't fight in the war. I've never shot anyone or done anything to merit being frightened but sometimes I still get that way." She looks at him and even though it's dark, he can see how wide her eyes are when she meets his glance. "It's better when there's someone here with me."
Will shifts onto his side, both to give her a little more room and so he can see her better. "It's not stupid," he says. "You were in a dangerous situation under a lot of stress and it's something not everyone can do. Hell, I'd never be able to do it."
"It takes a special person," Mac agrees. "And I don't know that I was that person. I just needed to be away for a while to process and it was the first opportunity that presented itself. Being gone, out of pocket...it was a good idea at the time." She's quiet a moment, waiting, like there's something she wants to ask and isn't sure how to word it.
"Did you ever miss me? After I left?"
There's something different about talking in the dim light of his bedroom, something that doesn't immediately make him throw up his guard. Maybe that's what it is, or maybe it's that her voice is quiet and a little tired. But he doesn't immediately get defensive, not this time. "Every day," he says quietly. "I missed you every day." He's not saying that to try to make her feel guilty. He's just saying it because he missed her, in the way he imagines he'd miss his right hand if he lost it tomorrow. He missed her like a drowning man misses air.
"I missed you too. I'm glad I'm here," Mac says, giving him a sleepy smile in the dark. "Even if I'm shot and banged up, I'm glad to be here with you instead of anywhere else. Next time I want to invite myself over, I really need to try to not get gravely injured first, yes?"
"You never need an excuse to invite yourself over," Will says quietly. He rubs his fingers lightly against her arm, and it's not a sexual gesture despite them being in his bed together. It's meant to be reassuring because he knows he's fucking terrible at actually saying anything meaningful.
Mac doesn't say anything in reply, and after a moment, Will realizes she's fallen asleep. It takes him a while to fall asleep because he's so fucking worried about her his mind just won't turn off, and it feels like he's just fallen asleep when she's trying to prod him awake.
"You have to help me shower. I'm not supposed to get this bandage wet."
Will is...the charitable way to say it is that he's not a fucking morning person and never has been. He takes forever to fall asleep and even longer to wake up, so when Mac starts talking about something he's not really awake enough to comprehend it. "What?" Will turns over and tries to enjoy another few moments with his face in the pillow.
Mac plays lightly in the hair at the nape of his neck and rubs his shoulder, this time less urgent and just touching because she can. "I need you to help me take a shower, Will. Normally you'd be ecstatic about this proposition."
Nope, no more pillow time, even if Mac playing with his hair feels really fucking good. Will sits up and rubs at his face. "I can't get ecstatic about anything before coffee," he grumbles, although if he were to get ecstatic about anything before coffee, it would be her. But he can't quite get his mind around the logistics of her showering without getting her bandages wet before he has some caffeine. "You feeling up to this?"
"I can't go to work unshowered," Mac deadpans. "So I'm fairly certain this is the direction I want to proceed in. I'm just really tired of sponge baths and having my hair washed in the sink, is all, and I want a real shower."
"Okay." Will rubs at his face again, finally waking up enough to actually get out of bed. "Coffee first, though," he says. "Want some?" She used to, he knows, but they've both changed in little ways over the last few years and that could be one of them.
"Yes, absolutely," Mac says, reaching out to smooth down his hair a little. "I think if you cut me open, I'll bleed coffee. If you ever had a doubt I was American, there's your sign."
"America!" Will pumps his fist into the air in the most unenthusiastic of fake cheers. "Yeah. But if I catch you singing the National Anthem in the shower, you're going home." He catches her hand, gives it a little squeeze, and pries himself out of bed to go to the kitchen to make coffee. It's early enough that they have plenty of time.
"I don't sing," Mac reminds him, not that he could forget because it's really in everyone's best interest that she doesn't.
Will makes the coffee, adds a little sugar to Mac's and a lot more sugar to his, and brings both mugs back to the bedroom. "Try not to spill it," he says, holding out her mug. "It's hot. If I have to take you back to the hospital, we'll be late for work."
"I'll try to refrain," Mac says, blowing lightly on her coffee before taking a tentative sip. "But you know how much I love hospitals. The smell of antiseptic really gets me going and don't even start with latex. I can't handle it."
Will's just about to take a sip of his own coffee when she says that, and he's glad he didn't because he would have snorted it out his fucking nose. As it is, he manages to just chuckle, holding back the laugh behind it so she doesn't laugh and hurt herself. "Give me the mean nurse and I'm in heaven." Once he's sure he's not going to actually laugh, he sips at his coffee, and says, "So how are you going to manage this? Do you want me to stand in the shower with an umbrella?"
"We'll have to wrap it with plastic," Mac says, giving him a sheepish look. "My main concern is the fact that lifting my arms over my head results in a lot of pain and it would be easier if I didn't have to do that. So if you could...do all the reaching, that would make things a lot easier. Look on the bright side, Will, it'll be plenty of water conservation? We're going green."
Will grumbles a little, mostly good-naturedly, while they finish their coffee, and then they go into the bathroom, where he helps her out of her shirt. It's a little awkward, at least for him--not the part where he's getting Mac out of her clothes, because they're well acquainted with seeing each other naked, even if it's been years--but because it's a kind of intimacy he's not really used to and he doesn't want to fuck it up. When they're pretty sure that her bandages are protected from the spray, he turns on the water and adjusts it till it's just this side of hot. "Careful," he says, giving her a hand as she climbs in. "It's slippery."
Will's careful with her, because the last thing he wants is for her to get hurt again, especially if it's his damn fault. Again. He strips his clothes and steps into the shower with her, where she's letting out little contented sighs at having her first real shower in days. While the rest of his apartment is large and spacious (which he likes) the bathroom is comparatively small (which he doesn't like), but there's still plenty of room for both of them. Again he has the urge to ask her how she thought she was going to manage all this at her place by herself, but he doesn't, for fear he'll piss her off and she'll leave and then just fucking overdo it; instead of saying anything about it, he tilts the shower head to wet her hair.
"Much better than showering alone, isn't it?" Mac says, and he can tell she's making an attempt at teasing him but she's distracted by the hot water because that's followed by a noise that's bordering on indecent, and she tilts her head back a little, leaning into the warmth of the shower.
The sound she makes goes straight to his groin. He's pretty sure she didn't mean it that way, but even though he has no intention of starting anything up when she's in enough pain that she can't wash her own hair, the fact is she looks as good as she did years ago and maybe better, and she's naked and wet from the shower and...fuck. He sighs and reaches for the shampoo. She either didn't bring hers or didn't unpack it, but his will do. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Much better."
Mac tips her head a little into his hands. "We could make a habit of it, I guess."
He makes a little sound, a small grunt of agreement, as he works the shampoo into her hair. Thinking about making a habit of it has him thinking about what things will be like when she's better and while his brain knows this is absolutely not the time for this, there are other parts of him that don't have a conscience. At all. So when he rests his hand against her back, it's mostly to divert most of the soap and water running off her hair away from her bandages, but it's also a little bit of an excuse to touch her.
"Thank you for being here for me, Will. I can't tell you how much this means to me."
The shampoo has all been rinsed from her hair, but Will's finding he can't really stop touching her. He lets his hands slide over her shoulders, dips his head to lightly kiss her neck. He wants to tell her that he'd do anything for her, that this is the least of it, but as usual with Mac when it's not life or death, he can't manage the words. "You're welcome," is all he can say.
She turns around and puts her hands on his chest, fingers touching and gliding over his skin. "We should get out. Eventually. I'm just going to go ahead and suggest that's probably our next step in the getting to work process."
God, he wants her. He wants her more now than he did the night of the hurricane, and it's only knowing that even the little movement of placing her hands on his chest has to be hurting her that keeps him from acting on it--or at least from acting on it more than brushing his lips softly across hers. "I really want to take you back to bed," he says quietly, and then adds, "...when you're feeling better." He doesn't want her to think he just asked her to stay here so they could have a repeat of the night of the hurricane. He didn't. He asked her here in the hope she'd let him look after her a little, so she'd take it easy.
"I had wondered about that, actually. If we were going to do that again. Regularly."
"I'd like to." Will traces along the drops of water glistening along her collarbone. He knows he should stop touching her but since he can't, he can at least try to keep it simple, draw a line somewhere. "If you're okay with that."
"Then we will. Eventually. Because I am more than okay with it and if I didn't think I would pull my stitches and need more surgery, I would show you exactly how okay with it I am. So we're not going to do that," Mac says, her voice low and husky. "But you can know that I'm thinking about it, constantly, and have been ever since you broke up with me over Brian."
It was going so good, and then she had to say that name and this irrational well of anger bubbles up inside Will. "Don't," he says, sharply, before he forces himself to take a breath and rein it in. "Please don't mention him when we're... you know," he says. Because one day they need to talk about that, really, but not when they're naked in his shower.
Mac's face pales immediately and she nods quickly before turning around, and it's awkward as fuck, like someone's dropped a concrete wall between them. "I can probably finish the rest, Will. I just needed help with my hair and you were admirable at that, so thank you."
The thing about Brian now is not just that Will's got the image of her and Brian, together, stuck in his head and he's never going to be able to get it out, there's that fucking article now, and he doesn't just hate Brian for it, he hates himself for being so fucking childish in bringing him around and God, it's just a fucking mess. He has to get the fuck over it. "Mac," he says quietly, touching her shoulder, and he can't make himself apologize but he can be apologetic.
"It's not like I meant to mention him, Will. It's not like I ever meant to hurt you and I'm tired of apologizing and apologizing and having to check my statements around you. You didn't ask me before you brought him in to write that damned article. You didn't ask me if I would be uncomfortable or if it would hurt me, you just did it. And I accepted it. I barely even made a fuss. But I accidentally mention him in the context of something else entirely and you jump down my throat for it? That's hardly fair, Will."
"Why did you even mention him at all?" Will blurts. He gets what she's saying and understands it on some level, but on another level he just can't understand why Mac had to mention her goddamn ex right now. "You can't just--mention him when we're having--okay, we were just talking about it, but still, you can't just--oh, fuck it." He yanks open the shower curtain and stomps his way out and he knows he's being fucking stupid about this but he can't seem to stop.
Will feels like shit. One day. One day he's going to get over this knee-jerk reaction to any reference to Brian Brenner or The Thing That Happened, and one day he's going to stop punishing MacKenzie over this.
The least he can do, now, is own up to being an ass about this. It's not like he has any actual dignity left, after stomping naked out of the bathroom in a rage. After he's dressed, he goes out on the terrace to have a cigarette and wait for Mac.
***
When she really can't avoid him any longer, she goes to the terrace and sticks her head out the door. "You should call Lonny to come pick us up so we won't be late."
"He's on his way," Will says. "He'll be here in--" Will checks his watch. "Ten minutes." He stubs out his cigarette and sighs. "Look, MacKenzie, I'm--" Sorry. "I shouldn't have reacted like that."
"No, you shouldn't have," Mac says simply and heads back inside. She hates being on the outs with Will but she feels like this time, she's right, and she shouldn't take his shit just because she feels guilty about something that happened ages ago.
When Lonny arrives, she's charming and flirts with him a little more than usual because she knows it will get under Will's skin and she lets Lonny and Will fight over the door opening because it amuses her to no end.
The fight's gone out of him by the time they get downstairs and while he looks annoyed, he doesn’t make any more comments. Once they get to the office, Will peels off to his office and Mac goes to her own; she fully intends on putting together a quality show and she has no idea what Will intends but if he wants to be sour, he can do it alone. She doesn’t need to be present for that.
Mac finds that it's actually quite tiring to be on her feet and to try and run a pitch meeting when she's bone tired from just being injured. She manages to look over the things that Neal wants to run (no thank you, nothing on aliens) and what Jim has for her (more on Yemeni protests in Sana'a) and, of course, Sloan's spiel on Moody downgrading Spain's credit rating.
It's during the latter that Mac starts to waver a little and she grips the edge of her desk and she feels simultaneously hot and dizzy. Jim's right there and puts his arm around her to steady her and Maggie runs to get Will.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mac insists, waving her hands around and hoping everyone will just let her go back to work. Slowly. A slow return to work.
Mac is vaguely aware of Maggie rushing out of the room, cheeks flushed and voice shrill and alarmed to anyone who questions her. She hears Will a few moments later, his voice rough with an edge of panic she doesn’t lie. "What the hell's going on in here?" he says, demanding answers from whoever is unlucky enough to be in his line of fire.
"Mac's dizzy," Jim supplies, still supporting her elbow. Mac is grateful because everything is spinning and she's fairly sure she's about to be sick, which doesn't bode well for the conference table in the next few minutes. She hopes she isn't because she doesn't want anyone to see her in such a state.
"I'm fine Will, really."
"No, you're not," Will says bluntly. "Take a break, everybody, come back in twenty minutes." Everyone except Jim scurries quickly out, and Will grabs the nearest chair and slides it under her. "Sit," he says, in a voice that makes it clear that he's not going to have any of her bullshit oh but I'm fine protests, and then she guesses that decides she looks queasy because he puts a trashcan within reach of her.
"I'm hot," Mac whines, then realizes it's the worst possible word choice. What's also terrible is the fact that everyone clears out just in time for her to retch in the trash can while Jim's holding her hair and rubbing her back. Bending over to get sick pulls at the wound and she makes a little face and groans in pain.
"Will, is there any way we can find someone to take her home? She's not good for anything like this." Mac rolls her eyes and waves her hand at Jim, trying to get him to stop hovering. It's not that serious even though there's nothing she'd like more than to crawl into Will's bed and stay there for the next month.
"I'm going to take her home myself," Will says. "Jim, can you get the pitch meeting going again in a little while and sort out tonight? I'm going to take MacKenzie home and make sure she's okay and then I'll be back." There's a stock of bottled waters on the side table; he takes one, twists off the top, and puts it on the table in front of her.
"I'm here, you know. I actually can think and speak."
It's a weak protest at best considering how out of it she is and when Will offers the water, she drinks deeply. She still feels sick and her mouth feels dry, like it's been packed with cotton, and she really just wants to go home. Jim seems concerned and she decides she won't put up a fight for his sake (and she feels like shit on top of everything else).
When Lonny comes in, he eyes Will. "Didn't you tell her to stay home?"
Will doesn't actually answer the question but he does sigh and shake his head a little. "Are you going to be okay to get down to the car?" he asks her, because if she feels faint he'd rather be warned ahead of time.
"Are you planning to carry me?"
It's a little flip but not as much as she'd like and it mostly just sounds like she's asking for that very thing which...no. She hasn't been carried by Will McAvoy since the New York Marathon where she twisted her ankle and she's not about to let him carry her out of ACN in front of her entire staff. Still, a not so independent part of her really wants him to be the white knight and so she doesn't really protest him wanting to help her down.
"I might need it," she says softly. "I'm not doing so well."
"If I have to," Will says, and lightly rubs her back. "You're going to be okay. We're going back to my place, you're going to have some food to settle your stomach and get some rest." He hates that he has to come back for the show, but he can't leave Jim scrambling to cover for him when he's already covering for MacKenzie. "Ready to go?" He touches her arm, lightly, and Mac interprets it as an offer to lean on him if she needs to.
Mac takes the offer. She doesn't give a rat's ass if anyone thinks she's weak or less for leaning on Will when her steps are shaky and her stomach still feels off. She manages to keep everything together in the elevator and Will's arm around her is oddly soothing.
There's only a few people that come in and out as they go downstairs and Mac doesn't care if any of them see her lean her head against Will's shoulder. She's sick. She's entitled.
Will keeps his arm around her across the office, down the elevator, and out the door, and helps her into the car. "I know you own me every weeknight from eight to nine," Will says, "and I'm okay with that. But it's not eight o'clock yet, so I feel like I can have some latitude to tell you to get some rest."
"I promise to sleep," Mac says, giving him a little grin. "I will sit around in your apartment and sleep and watch Oprah and whatever the hell it is that people do when they stay home all day." Actually, come to think of it, Mac thinks Oprah isn't on television any longer. Hmm.
"Are you coming straight home after the show?"
"Yes," he says. "Because if I don't, I'll probably find you rearranging my kitchen cabinets or doing something else you shouldn't be doing. And promise me you'll eat something before you take any more meds."
"I'll eat. I'll do whatever you ask without complaint," Mac promises and it's not sarcastic in any way. It's just plain honest and she's too tired to be bratty about anything right now. "I should have eaten earlier and I just forgot, considering."
She thinks that's probably the best way to mention the argument.
"I'm sorry about that." It’s an actual apology and Mac is stunned. She’s also too sick to really make an issue of pointing it out so she keeps fairly quiet instead.
"It's all right," Mac says, half-smiling and leaning against him a little as they leave the elevator and go out onto the street. Will helps her into the car, which she's grateful for, and once he's settled in the seat beside her, she keeps close. It's a little pathetic but she's always liked to have lots of contact when she's sick or injured and since she's both right now, she is trying her best to soak up as much of that as she can from Will before he has to go back to do the show.
"You're not going to puke on me, are you?" She doesn't look as queasy as she did in the conference room, but he's still a little wary.
"At the moment? Likely not," Mac confirms. "I'll be sure to stick my head out the window if there's a danger of that but Lonny might have to get the tank detailed and may be a little put out with me."
Lonny likes her, so she's not really concerned on that front. Besides, she's sick and she ought to get a pass. "I'll have to watch you, you know. Don't think I won't hesitate to call in if I think you're letting someone off the hook. I'll even state my name, age, occupation and level of education."
Will laughs softly and leans over to lightly kiss her hair. "I'll be on my best behavior," he promises.
When they get to his apartment, Will helps her out of her work clothes into something more suited for a long day of doing as little as possible and makes her some lunch. It’s charming and domestic and Mac finds that comforting. "Just so you know, there is more actual food in the kitchen, not just bacon and cheese and beer," he points out. "And things that don't even need to be cooked. So don't forget to eat." He gives her a warning look. "If I come back here and find you've done anything besides lay around and eat bon-bons, or anything remotely resembling work...well, I don't know what I'm going to do. Don't make me figure it out."
"What is it that the young people do these days? Twitter? I'll do that," Mac decides. She isn't going to provoke him on this front though because she feels like she's overdone it and she's only good for food and sleep right now. She may actually fall asleep in her food if she isn't careful. She decides to make a sandwich in lieu of anything more complex and manages to keep her hands off work for a few hours in the haze of vicodin and general not-feeling-well.
After a valiant attempt at sitting on Will's couch like an actual adult, Mac finally succumbs to wanting to be in bed with the blankets pulled up around her. She considers the guest room for the moment, where she ought to be sleeping, and decides she'll just take a short nap in Will's bed and be up before he gets home from the show. His sheets are smooth and cool and the pillow smells like him and she finds that comforting in a decidedly-not feminist way.
***
So he tries not to fuck it up.
He does all right with the show, manages not to yell at people too often, and Jim's a decent substitute for Mac although he doesn't push him as hard as Mac does (no one does, really). After he's done, Lonny drives him home, and he comes back to find the apartment dim and quiet. He drops his keys and briefcase and coat by the door and wanders through the apartment to find a MacKenzie-shaped lump in his bed. She's sound asleep, seems to have been that way for some time, which means she's gotten some rest. Finally.
He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her, but apparently not careful enough, because she stirs, slowly, blinking her way out of her medication-induced sleep to peer at him. She tries to sit up, grimaces, and he helps her get comfortable.
"I forgot to watch the show," she says, guilty about that fact, and her voice is muffled from pillows and sleep.
"You didn't miss anything," he says. "Don't worry about it. Feeling all right?" It's equal parts protectiveness and concern. The last few years he's tried really hard to pretend he doesn't care about anyone or anything, but with Mac he's learned it's useless to pretend he doesn't give a shit. He loves her too much.
"Slightly better," Mac confirms. "I still don't like the way the pills make me feel. I get so queasy." It's a little whiny, but Will thinks she's allowed. "I think I needed the sleep, though."
"I'm well aware that you and narcotics are not friends," Will teases, as he gives her a look that's mostly I told you just to stay home and rest although he's restraining himself from saying I told you so out loud. "Tell me you're not going to try to come back to work until your doctor says okay," he says instead, ignoring the fact he left the hospital himself without actually being discharged, but he hadn't been shot, either.
Mac nods, conceding the point. "Did you miss having me in your ear? I know my dulcet tones inspire you to greatness."
"I always miss you in my ear when you're not there." He means now, of course, but he also means Before, and it's a concession to mentioning it without actually mentioning it. "Jim's a good kid, you trained him well. He just lets me get away with too much shit. I didn't do anything," he assures her, in case she feels the need to try to go to work tomorrow to sort him out. "I was good. No Palin, no non-news."
"Mmmm. I shall let you live," Mac decides, as if it were in question. "I don't guess you're ready to come to bed, are you?" It's not even eleven yet and they keep strange hours because of work, so Will guess it's more about wanting to spend time with him than asking if he's tired.
"Not yet." He finds one of her hands on top of the blankets and slips his fingers a little between hers, not holding her hand, just toying with her fingers a little. "I haven't had dinner and I need to go over some shit for tomorrow. You hungry?"
"Not really but I suspect you'll feed me anyway. You probably want me to get out of bed, don't you?"
"Not if you don't want to," he says. "And you need to eat something. No more getting sick. Stay put, I'll be back."
Will goes into the kitchen and makes his usual bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. It's a thing. He has a beer while he cooks and when he's done, he takes it into the bedroom, along with some fruit for MacKenzie. His plate and beer he leaves on the desk in the corner, with his laptop, and takes the other plate to her. "I know you said you weren't hungry, but."
"I'll eat this," Mac says, popping a grape into her mouth. "I wanted to say I really was sorry about earlier. About the thing. I should have known better."
Will has settled at his desk with his laptop and sandwich when she apologizes. It's his impulse to get defensive right away, but he takes a sip of his beer and mentally counts to ten before he says anything.
"Don't worry about it," he says. "It's just going to take me some time to...not hate him." That's about as diplomatic as he can make it right now.
"I don't expect you to not hate him," Mac clarifies. "I need you to forgive me. That's more important than anything else and Christ knows you can hold a grudge. I'm trying to make sure it's him you hate and not me. I couldn't give a fuck if you hate or don't hate him." Mac tucks her hair back behind her ears, nervous and fidgeting. "So we're fine, then?"
Will pushes some things around on his desk, pretending to look for something but in reality not actually looking at anything he's touching. "I don't hate you." It's an inadequate response at best and dickish at worst so he tries again. "My feelings for you never changed," he says. "Even when I had a stick up my ass about what happened. It never changed."
"I don't want to fight," Mac whispers, mostly to herself. She sounds exhausted and a little drugged, still, but he knows her desire not to fight doesn't come from that. "We've wasted so much time fighting. I want to be in love instead."
"I don't want to fight, either." Will is still and quiet for a moment. Then he closes his laptop and reaches for a cigarette. He doesn't normally smoke in the bedroom, but he has a pack stuck in his desk and right now he really fucking needs one. He doesn't speak again until he's lit it, and then his voice is quiet, reluctant. "I just have to know if I...did anything. To make you go back to him."
"No, Will," Mac says, turning her head away from him. "You were perfect in every way. I was afraid I wasn't good enough and I sabotaged it. That's all."
There's enough feeling behind her answer that Will is ashamed that he asked.
He stubs out his cigarette, crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, very close to her. There are words he wants to say, but MacKenzie looks like she's about to cry and he can't handle it. It jumbles up everything in a nasty fucking tangle and it takes him a minute to pry the words loose. "I was afraid I wasn't good enough and that's why you went to him."
"I'm sorry I keep hurting you," Mac says plaintively, the tears she's been trying to hold back coming out, her willpower dented by pain and drugs. "I'm sorry. All I wanted was to spend some time with you and I've made a mess of everything again."
"You didn't." He shifts closer to her, as close as he can, so he can ease her into a hug without hurting her. "It's okay. It's going to be all right."
"I want it to be," Mac admits. "All I wanted was for you to come back and I've never been that kind of woman. I can sit in this apartment alone for a few hours and not get hysterical, I can, but all I could think about was you and us and how much I wanted to lay in your bed for a little while and pretend I belonged there. So I went to sleep in your bed with every intention of waking up before you got home and it didn't happen and now I'm a crying mess."
She buries her face against his shoulder. "Let's start today over. I want like we were in the shower before I fucked everything up."
"You didn't fuck everything up. You said something, I said something back. It was both of us." One day, Will will learn, but he suspects it won't be anytime soon no matter how much he'd like it to be. He's had too long to get set in his ways. "But we can fix it."
"We can," Mac echoes, kissing his neck lightly. "Fresh start for today?"
Her lips on his neck send shivers down his spine and he inhales sharply; his fingers curl into her shirt tighter than he means them to. He thinks it's not fair that she knows his weaknesses but maybe the fact that he knows hers evens it out. "Fresh start," he murmurs. It doesn't matter that the day's almost over.
"You could probably kiss me hello. That's a good start," Mac says, lifting her head to look into his eyes. She slides one of her hands into his hair. "If you want. Just a suggestion."
When she looks at him like that, with her eyes all round and soft, it's completely fucking useless for him to think about resisting her. MacKenzie's always been the one woman he's never had any defenses against and never really wanted to. So when she suggests he kiss her, he doesn't waste any time complying with her suggestion.
***
She suspects he isn't exactly suffering but that's beside the point.
She knows that Will is fairly single-minded when he wants to be and that he also has an easier time expressing himself with actions instead of words. He slides his hands into her hair and she’s very nearly overwhelmed by how much that gesture makes her feel for him. It’s no damn wonder she’s half-sick over this man a majority of the time.
"I wish I could have what I want," Mac whimpers, pulling her mouth away just enough to speak but not so far that she can't punctuate that statement with another kiss. She means more than just the obvious, too, because what she wants is firm confirmation that they're together and plans for the future.
"Too risky."
"Yeah," Will says quietly. "Me too. I'm not going anywhere." Will kisses lightly along her neck and breathes in the scent of her skin. "So, when you're feeling better..."
"Maybe it's something to look forward to," Mac says lowly. "Something to...anticipate for later." She really likes him kissing her neck like that and hopes that has a starring role in future endeavors. Mac ruffles his hair lightly.
"You realize that I'm going to fuck you silly the moment my stitches come out, right?"
"I'm looking forward to it," he murmurs, as his arms go lightly around her waist.
"That would be the day to take your vitamins," Mac says, laughing a little. It's hard to laugh too deeply, considering her wound, but she's learned how to cheat it a little. She ruffles his hair lightly, teasing and playful and things she's only able to be when she's completely wasted on pain medication and too out of it to care. At least, now. Before was a different story.
"I know you can't be tired but...I am. I'll see you in the morning?"
***
He spends part of his time organizing a trip for Mac before she comes back to work. This proves difficult for two reasons: a, because he's planning this himself, he's not handing it off to his business manager, and he wants to keep it a surprise from Mac, so he can't do it at home and has to do it during working hours; and b, because he has to take a fucking security detail with him and he hates it. It's not that he's ungrateful, especially because Lonny saved his life, but he isn't sure that it won't put a damper on what ought to be a romantic (he fucking hates that word) getaway. But Charlie nearly has a stroke at the idea of Will and Mac going off without a bodyguard and Lonny promises they will be discreet and unobtrusive and Will allows it after a lot of grumbling and bitching.
On a Thursday morning, MacKenzie gets the okay to return to work on Monday. He texts her at lunch to tell her to pack a bag and be ready to go when he gets home from the show that night, and fully expects her to argue.
Will's in a great mood when he gets home from the show. Sloan and Elliott are covering for him tomorrow and he's not at all worried about how they'll do. He's not even bothered by the fact that MacKenzie isn't even ready to go when he gets home. "Hi," he says, slipping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. "Don't worry about packing any more. Take what you have and if you're missing anything, we'll just buy it when we get there."
***
"Are you sure? I didn't know where we were going so I didn't know exactly what to pack," she admits, leaning back into his arms.
"Doesn't matter, really," Will says. "I'll give you a hint, though. We'll still be in the continental US. C'mon. Lonny's waiting with the car downstairs." Will doesn’t have bags so she suspects they must already be down in the car. Sneaky bastard.
"That's not narrowing it down," Mac complains but she turns and pecks him on the cheek before closing up her bag. She's contemplating the best way to maneuver with the bag and her rolling suitcase when Will solves the problem for her and takes both. Sometimes, even if she doesn't always admit it, it's nice to have a man who's chivalrous and opens doors and carries bags on her behalf. It makes her feel feminine and romantic.
"How many time zones are we crossing?"
"None," he says, "but we'll be flying for a while. We'll be there by breakfast." He looks happy and excited, like a boy on Christmas, and it seems to be infectious. Mac finds that she can’t stop smiling either.
"I suppose that narrows it down to Florida, then," Mac says, pleased with herself. "But I didn't pack a suit, so I guess we'll have to get one when we go."
It's not like that'll be a hardship and she hasn't been to the beach in ages. It'll be a nice little getaway. "You didn't have to do this, you know."
Will shrugs a little, shifting her bag on his shoulder. "I know I didn't," he says. "But I wanted to." It seems heavy, as if his words are carefully chosen, and Mac decides not to poke at it terribly much. Will has been terrible with feelings for a while and this is an overture that she should encourage, not ruin.
"I think it's wonderful," Mac says, in case it was in question. "I guess the real question is, are the boys coming along with us? I assume they probably have to, don't they? It sort of puts a damper on her idea of a romantic getaway with Will but it's a necessary evil. Besides, she's almost come to not noticing Lonny even being there and hopefully the other two will become just as familiar to her.
Will sighs a little. "Yes, they do," Will says. "Charlie and the insurance company insisted. Lonny's coming on the flight with us and the other two have already left. But they're professionals, Mac. They'll give us space."
"I guess I'll have to be very quiet if we get up to anything naughty," Mac says, grinning a little. "But I can be quiet. I'm properly motivated in this instance, anyway." She's not really a screamer or anything but she's definitely vocal when something she likes is happening and that happens more often than not when Will's her partner.
When they get out to the street, Lonny's there with the car and takes the bags from Will so he can open the door. Mac slides in and when Will follows, she tucks her hand into his and squeezes.
"You'll forgive me if I sleep on the plane? My schedule's all out of whack."
"You should sleep on the plane. When you wake up, we'll be there."
Mac does as Will suggests if only because it makes the time pass quicker. She settles in the seat next to Will and Lonny, after they're securely on the plane and he's established it's safe, chooses a seat a little ways away from them to grant them privacy. It's not much, but it's something.
Mac doesn't remember landing other than the bump of the wheels when they hit the tarmac and she decides that flying private is a hell of a lot better than commercial. Too bad it's not in her usual budget.
When she and Will manage to finish with the airport and ride out to where they're staying, she's about half awake and aware enough to gasp when she sees how nice it is and there's breakfast laid out for them.
"Oh, Billy. This is entirely too much."
Will shrugs, like it's no big deal, but he's grinning a little, too. Mac suspects he’s pleased that she likes it and she’s glad. They need to reconnect like this and he’s done a big thing, taking a step like this and not putting it on her to get their emotions out on the table.
Lonny does a quick inspection of the building while a guy from the resort brings in their bags. Satisfied that everything's clear, he nods and gestures in the direction of the closest bungalow. "If you decide to go anywhere other than the beach, let us know," Lonny says. "Otherwise, we'll be next door."
And then they're alone.
"I just wanted you to be able to get away for a little bit before you come back to work," Will says. "So whatever you want to do... we'll do it. Just say the word."
"I don't have any plans aside from relaxing," Mac advises him. She really doesn't, honestly, other than dragging him to bed to do what she's wanted to do since before she got shot.
"Are you going to protect me from the jellyfish?"
"Jellyfish have been banned from the Keys for the weekend," Will says. "Or, at least they would be, if I had anything to say about it. As it is, I guess I'll just have to keep my eye out for them." He glances around the room, seemingly pleased by their surroundings. "Did you get enough sleep on the plane?"
"Enough to satisfy me for a little while," Mac says, shrugging a little. She's not used to getting much sleep anyway and sleeping on planes tends to be restless and less than comfortable. Sleeping on a private jet, however, is a lot different than sleeping on a commercial flight and she finds that she prefers it. Too bad her salary doesn't allow for that on a regular basis.
"Did you? Or did you want to go...nap for a little while?"
***
So instead of saying any of that shit, which he'd probably fuck up more likely than not, he just steps close to her and slides his arms around her. "Whatever you want," he says, and lets his fingers wander a little up and down her lower back where his hands are resting.
"We should probably try the bed out just in case." Mac tips her head in that general direction as if she really has a vested interest in the integrity of their borrowed bed for the next two nights. "Might have to send us a new one if we don't like this one."
It's an impulse--or, maybe not so much an impulse as a nearly-two-years-belated reaction to her swooping into his life and turning it upside down and sideways--that makes him say, "Yes, we should," and scoop her up into his arms and carry her into the bedroom, a gesture that might be a lot more romantic if his elbow wasn't screaming fuck you in seven different languages, like MacKenzie weighs two hundred pounds instead of maybe one-twenty-five soaking wet, but he ignores that because fuck it, he's been waiting for what feels like for-fucking-ever to give her more than a chaste kiss or two (okay, maybe he failed at the chaste part, but he tried) and maybe it's making him a little crazy.
Mac lets out a little noise of surprise when her feet come out from under her. She curls her fingers into Will's shoulder and holds on, grinning the whole time, so Will feels like the protests from his elbow are worth it. "Now, see, this is a full service white knight. I didn't expect this at all."
"Neither did I," Will tells her, and laughs as he carries her into the bedroom and carefully puts her on the bed. "You... make me want to do crazy things." Which is true. No one gets to him the way Mac does. No one.
He sits close to her on the bed and slips his arms around her. "Stuff like, I don't know. This, maybe." He nuzzles at her neck, the soft scent of her skin driving him nuts, and though he wants this to be different than the night of the hurricane, not so rushed, he knows he's not going to have a lot of success with self-control. Not yet. Not when he's going nuts from weeks of having her so close but out of reach.
"You and I have different definitions of crazy, Billy," Mac teases. She tips her head to give him a little more access and threads her fingers through his hair. It feels good, what they're doing, and even though he's hardly rushing things there's a charge between them they haven't really felt the last few weeks. "I love you," she murmurs, fingers slipping against the soft strands of his hair.
He thinks Billy is the most infantilzing nickname possible and yet he loves when Mac says it because he can hear everything she feels in it. She's the only woman who has ever been able to make him feel like this. Like he's high on her. And being high on her is a better high than pot or anything else he's done, and maybe that's why it makes it easier for him to whisper I love you, too against her skin.
Mac shifts a little so she's in his lap, thighs straddling his, and she cups his cheeks before catching his mouth in a long, slow kiss. It's a little slower and more cautious than she normally would be with him, but Will's okay with that. Will tugs her shirt free from the waist of her pants and slides his hands beneath it just so he can have contact with her skin. There's something deliberate about the way she's kissing him, like they have plenty of time, like this is something new for them and he's okay with that, too. More than okay. "I want you," he whispers against her mouth, and that's easier than I love you but it doesn't mean any less.
She works her hands between them to pull at her buttons, undoing one at a time, and the shirt falls open but doesn't slide off. It's been a long time since they've been together, really together, and the hurricane really doesn't count since they were both hyped up on fear and things unsaid. Everything's been said now that needs to be said and now they're just getting reacquainted. There's no rush.
"I want you, too," she whispers but it feels unnecessary with the way she kisses him. And maybe it's unnecessary but it's definitely not unappreciated; her words send a jolt of heat right to his groin and he groans against her mouth. He slips his hands up her back and unclasps her bra but he doesn't take the time to take it and her shirt off, he just works his fingers under her bra and push it up so he can cup and stroke her breasts--breasts which, in his opinion, are fucking fabulous and something he cannot get enough of.
Mac lets out a strangled little sound when his hands find her breasts and she squirms a little on Will's lap to try and press herself against him as best she can. "You want to get me undressed or do you want to just go about it the hard way?"
"I'm getting to it," Will says, pressing his thumbs in small, intent circles over her nipples. "I'm just taking my time." How much he wants to take his time and draw this out is one thing; how long he'll be able to manage it is completely another, especially with the way she's pressing down into his lap like that. The friction is delicious and he lets them both indulge in it for a few moments before he pushes her up a little, sliding a hand between them so she's pressing against his hand instead of his dick. Less satisfying for him, but better for the task of the moment, which is to get her so worked up he can only ever remember the sound of her wanting him so he'll never have the mental image of her and Brian again. Somewhere along the line he forgave her without realizing it, but that image has to go.
"Oh," Mac manages and it's less indignant and more shock fading into pleasure. Her breath is coming in short little gasps and Will knows those little pants mean she's feeling really good. Even when he hadn't seen her in years, he never forgot the sound of those breathy little gasps. "Will, please. Come on?"
"I'm getting to it," he says again, but it's a little more gruff this time because that breathy little whine in her voice gets to him. He slides his hand up, tugging at her trousers to work them open, but he doesn't slip his hand inside because he's being deliberately frustrating.
Mac slides her own hand down her chest and stomach to wrap around his hand and push him a little closer to her. "Billy, I can't take it, I need you." Will twists his hand in hers and wraps his fingers around her wrist, pushing her hand out of the way and behind her back. It's easy enough to take her other hand, too, and just as easy to hold her slender wrists there with one hand--not that he's holding her tight enough that she couldn't squirm loose easily, if she wanted, but it's making a point. He's never really had any interest in playing games with sex and isn't interested in that now, actually, but there's something really fucking cathartic in the way she says Billy and I can't take it with her skin flushed and her clothes all over the place.
With her hands behind her back, Mac can't really get any leverage to force Will's hand and she whines again, frustrated, and guesses she's just going to have to wait for whatever he deigns to give her. She huffs slightly and squirms as best she can manage.
"Please?"
She says please like that and whatever Will had intended, whatever point he was trying to prove just evaporates into nothing. He wants her too fucking much and he loves her too fucking much to fuck around with this, right now; he lets go of her wrists and cups her face to kiss her deeply, then leans back onto the bed, bringing her with him. He pushes at her shirt and bra, needing them off her right now, and she eagerly complies in helping him shed her clothes.
"I want you, I want you, I want you," she murmurs, sliding her hands under his shirt so she can feel his skin.
"Shh," he whispers, though he doesn't know why he's saying that because her telling him that is something, that on some level, he needs to hear. Mac has told him that he's the one she fell in love with, that Brian was a mistake, and he believes her, but her telling him she wants him is a whole other kind of believing. But he says shh anyway, even while he's helping her peel off his shirt. He doesn't take his eyes off her the whole time because she's fucking gorgeous, naked, and moving more easily now that she's mostly healed.
Once he's naked, Mac can't stop looking at him in a way that makes Will feel almost vulnerable, like she can see right through him (and really, she's the only person who ever could). It feels new, somehow, even though they know each other entirely too well to be new and she presses her palm against his chest right above his heart.
"Do you want me too?"
"You know I do," he says, a little gruff, and he shifts and rolls them over so he's pressed between her thighs. "I never stopped wanting you." Never stopped wanting her, never stopped loving her--it's all the same to Will.
"Show me, then?"
Will grunts softly, a little sound of affirmation, and kisses her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, and the soft skin between her breasts. He's going to take his fucking time this time, he's not rushing this like he did the night of the storm even though his whole body is aching to be inside her as soon as possible. He takes his time working his way down her body, pressing his fingers into her hips and spreading her thighs apart.
"Oh, I do love you," she murmurs, squirming under his hands.
Will nuzzles at her stomach, at her soft thighs and the crease where hip and leg meet. "Say it again," he murmurs, and he knows it's a little unfair because he can't say it as easily as she can but he loves hearing it from her.
"Keep doing that and I'll say it until my throat goes hoarse. I love you," Mac says, lowering her voice and saying it again and again, over and over while he's touching her. Those words are like an aphrodesiac for Will--not that he needs one where MacKenzie is concerned--and the soft sound he makes as he presses her hips to the bed is something like a possessive little growl. He spreads her open with his fingers and gives her a long, slow lick, teasing her with both fingers and tongue. She slides her hand into his hair and it feels a little like I love you and a whole lot like don't you fucking stop and Will is more than happy to oblige. He presses his tongue against her clit in little circles that gradually--very gradually--get more and more purposeful while he presses his thumbs into her, not all at once but just a little at a time. He's determined to make this good for her and he's not going to rush it.
"Billy, please?"
He hums a little mmhmm low in his throat and now the motions of his tongue are less teasing, less frustrating, and much more deliberately intense, because he's still into the whole taking-his-time-thing but he wants to bring her off as quickly as possible not so she can be done so much as so he can do it to her all over again. Mac whimpers and begs and whispers that she's close, and Will can feel it in the way her body tenses and her hips lift up off the bed and so he doesn't let up. This is what he wants to hear, the way her voice gets whimpery and desperate and now he knows it's him that's doing it for her, that she's not thinking of Brian or anyone else. Just him. And when she comes, her whole body tensing, hips pressing against his mouth, Will can't help but feel a little smug--it's good to know that he can still do it for her and not just when they are both lonely and a little drunk--and he nuzzles playfully at her thigh. He's missed this kind of intimacy, with her, the flush of her skin, the way her whole body relazes--hell, even the smell of her. It's just that it's Mac and he fucking loves her.
"Will? Come here?"
"Hmm?" He nips at the inside of her thigh again, pretending he doesn't know what the fuck she's actually getting at. He knows, though, and he wants it like hell, too, but he also likes that desperate needy sound she makes and he wants to hear her make it again and again.
"Will," Mac says, gasping a little when she feels his teeth against her thigh, and her voice grows sharp and restless. "Fuck me, Will. Please?"
"Impatient?" Will says, but it's teasing; he loves the impatience and the hint of bossiness just as much as he loves the way she doesn't let him get away with pandering on the air. He presses his mouth to sensitive flesh again before sliding up her body and the feel of her body against his, her skin against his, makes him ache with want. She's slick and warm against his cock but he doesn't press inside yet, just grinds his hips against hers and catches her mouth in a kiss that's harder than he means it to be because the whole time he's thinking mine.
"If you don't get on with it, I'm going to take care of things myself," Mac says tersely. She rolls her hips up against him and digs her nails into his shoulder just sharp enough to prove she means business. "Are you done fucking around now?"
"It's never fucking around with you, Mac," he says, and kisses her again, and it's not like he hasn't been desperate for her all this time but now he can't fucking stand it anymore and he shifts and pushes and then he's inside her and Christ, it feels good. They're good together. They were from day one.
Mac sighs in pleasure and relief. "Finally."
"So demanding," he says, and he's smirking a little but his voice is low and tender. "I could stop." It's a fucking lie though, he's not stopping for anything. Not when it feels so good to be with her.
Mac makes a little frustrated whine under her breath and kisses him fiercely, teeth nipping at his lower lip and hands rough in his hair. She's being demanding and he likes it. God, does he like it, and with every thrust he likes it more. There's a low heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach and he welcomes it, knows it's going to be good, knows that it's better with Mac than with any other woman he's ever been with.
"It's always been you," she whispers, "Even when I was confused and fucked it up. Just you."
"Shh." He's close to losing it, but he has to tell her it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he won't ever be completely over, but it doesn't matter. "We're gonna be okay. It's in the past." He kisses her again, slides a hand under her back to keep her close to him, and fuck he just wants to hold her forever. He doesn't care what ever happens again, no matter what mistakes they make, he's never letting her go.
"I love you so much," she whispers against his mouth, wrapping her legs around him.
He loves it when she says it and he loves it even more now, when they're like this, when he's in her and against her and she's wrapped all around him. "I love you," he says, and it's soft but it's there and he means every syllable, punctuated with a final thrust of his hips and he's coming so hard he can't breathe.
***
She's good at that.
He whispers the words again against her cheek, her neck, the delicate curve of her ear and she melts for him over and over again.
"It's always going to be you," Mac murmurs, a smile on her lips and in her voice. "No matter what. I'm so glad you brought me here, Will."
She just wants to stay here in the Keys forever but she knows they have to get back to the real world eventually. Besides, Mac doesn't know how to function when she's not working, no matter how much she loves Will.
"I just wanted it to be us for a while," Will says. "But I'll be really fucking glad when it's you in my ear again."
He eases off of her, shifting onto his side and sliding his arm around her to keep her close.
"What? You actually listen to me? And here I thought I was just a bumblebee you wanted to swat," Mac teases, curling up against him and laying her hand against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it's a reminder that she occasionally needs since the business with his ulcer. "I'll be really glad to be back too, for what it's worth. I hate being idle. I think my IQ's gone down."
"What, you're not content to lay around all day?" he teases. "Can you handle one last weekend of idle as long as we're here?"
"Yes but you will have to keep me occupied," Mac says sweetly. "So...however you intend to do that, it'd better be good, because if I get bored, I might get dangerous." It's fun to tease him and just be easy like this. Mac wonders if it will last when she goes back to work.
"What are the plans, then?"
"I didn't plan too much," Will admits. His fingers move lightly up and down the little bit of skin that's directly under his fingertips. "Other than tonight. There's a boat that goes out, they do this evening cruise thing before dinner."
"If you want to. It's up to you," he says. "I know you've been bored out of your damn mind these last few weeks and I want to make it up to you. I want you to have a good time." He used to do this kind of romantic thing all the time with her and Mac really hopes this is a move back to the sweet, lovely relationship they had before she went and ruined everything with her own insecurities.
"Well, it seems like a waste to stay in the room and fuck all weekend," Mac says, laughing lightly. She's not usually as blunt as Will but sometimes the occasion calls for it. "But it's our holiday, we're entitled to spend it however we want."
She trails her hand down his chest and lays it low on his stomach. "But if you wanted to stay in bed all weekend, I wouldn't say no to that either."
Will sucks in a slow breath as she slides her hand down his chest and stomach. "I wouldn't say no to that either," he says, letting his hand drift lower down her back. His fingers spread out over the curve of her ass and hip, stroking her skin.
"Then lets stay in bed until dinner," Mac says, trying for sultry and not quite sure if she's succeeding. She's never been very good at playing the sexpot at the best of times but she feels sexy and hopefully that comes across properly.
"I'm sure we can find a way to...occupy ourselves?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Will says, a stupid grin on his face. It’s a classic sign that he’s trying very hard not to laugh at her and Mac appreciates his willpower. She’s terrible at flirting on a good day.
"Well, you know. Do not disturb?" Mac tries, floundering a little. She's not really good at the double-talk and being overtly sexy and she's trying her best. It would be a little easier if Will would help but since he's still smiling and engaging her, she guesses she hasn't ruined it entirely.
"Private time? Oh, fuck it," she mutters, tucking her head down against Will's shoulder. Maybe if he can't see her she can pretend not to exist for a moment.
Will chuckles, low and quiet, and slides his arm more tightly around her. "I know what you mean," he says, and kisses her hair. "I'm just teasing you. Look, Mac, we can do whatever you want this weekend. If you want to lay around in bed all weekend, I can handle that. If you want to lay on the beach or take the boat out or have dinner on the beach or go up to the dining room, I am okay with all that. This weekend is for you."
"For us," Mac corrects gently. "It's about us finally being together again, Will, and not letting the past ruin a good thing. Would you agree?"
"Yeah," he says, and his expression softens a little. "I just...I could have lost you, Mac. It was this close, and I could have lost you. And I don't want there to be another day where you don't know how I feel about you because...nobody knows what can happen."
"I thought I knew how you felt," Mac says quietly. "You were entitled to hate me, Will, and I didn't blame you for it. I need you to know that. I never held it against you that you were so angry at me even though it hurt."
She smiles a little and brushes her lips against his. "But I prefer it when you're in love with me."
"I was always in love with you." Mac knows that, in theory. If he hadn’t been in love with her, he wouldn’t have cared enough to get so angry with her. He wouldn’t have bought her a ring from Tiffany’s and kept it in his drawer four years after they split. He just wouldn’t have cared.
"I know that now," Mac says, leaning in and kissing him again. "And we're here now. It was hard to get here and I would rather not get shot again but we're here and this is where I want to stay."
They take the part about "staying" literally for the rest of the morning, because after that he kisses her and then they're right back to where they were an hour ago. They eventually pry themselves out of bed for a late breakfast and then decide to go down to the beach for a while.
Mac's always been fond of the ocean and today, wearing a breezy little sundress over her swimsuit, she just wants to lay out and enjoy the sand and waves for hours and hours. She slips her hand in Will's. It's a little over the top and romantic and something she'd never do back in New York but here, away from everyone? Oh yes.
"Think we can manage to keep our hands off each other for a little while?"
Will looks over at her, eyes appreciative, and shakes his head. "No," he says decisively. "Absolutely not." He pushes his sunglasses down a little on his nose and peers at her again over the top of them. "Definitely not."
"Damn. And here I thought we had a chance," Mac says, bumping his hip lightly with hers. "What with already having gone at it twice. Oh well, it's holiday, we can do whatever we damn well please. Including public displays of affection."
She turns a bit and brushes a kiss against his mouth, quick but sweet.
Mac misses the old them more than she can possibly ever put into words but it feels like they're really moving on now. She can't ever forget what happened before but she can put it firmly into the past and forgive herself for it, which has been just as much a problem as needing Will's forgiveness.
"We should just move here. We can put a desk out on the beach and report live every day."
He makes a sound that's half a grunt, half a laugh. "If you think you're going to get me into a suit on this beach, you should think again," he says, teasing. "Hugo Boss and sand don't mix." He rubs his thumb against the back of her hand and nods out toward the water. "Want to go for a swim?"
"What do you think? Of course," Mac says, grinning a little and tilting her head in an attempt to look cheeky and cute. She gathers it's probably just plain silly but hopefully Will is going to give her a pass this time.
"Are you coming with me or just watching?"
"Coming with," he says.
"Mmm. Warm tropical sun, sugary sand, you. I'm really not seeing the argument why we should go back home," Mac says, stopping to tug the sundress off over her head so she's just in the bikini.
"Your turn, Billy. I'm not swimming alone."
"Don't intend for you to," Will says, watching her toss the dress aside. His glance is more than just simple appreciation for something pretty, it’s a bit hungry, and Mac basks in that knowledge for a moment while she watches him strip off his own shirt. She supposes it’s just how he looks at her that makes her decide on her next move.
It's a little daring for an American beach but since it's a private one and she could really give a damn if Lonny sees her topless, Mac makes the impulse decision to untie her bikini top and drop it on their little pile. She beams at Will and gives him a cheeky, flirty little grin.
"I just thought it was only fair since you took yours off. Do you agree?"
He seems surprised, but pleased. "If this is part of a strategy to encourage me to keep my hands off you for more than five minutes, I have to tell you it's not really working," he teases, taking her hands and backing towards the water.
"This is an object lesson in testing your self-control," Mac says airily. "How well is it working?"
Pretty well, she imagines, but she likes flirting with Will as much as she can get it and when they go back home, it's going to be different than it is in this little slice of paradise. They'll both have jobs to do and need to be professional and Mac wants to just be easy with him for as long as she can before they have to go back to the real world and pick up again.
"It's a complete fucking failure," Will says cheerfully, and when they're past waist-deep in the water he slides his arms around her and pulls her close.
Mac leans in and whispers, "I love you," against his skin, unable to really find anything else witty or quippy to say when she's melting for him like this. It's not exactly the same as it was before everything but it's something fragile and new that she thinks might end up being better in the long run since it's been tempered by the rough times that came before.
She hopes so, anyway.