#macgyver fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mayfieldss · 29 days

Text

12 hours - Angus Macgyver

Synopsis: when you are taken hostage, Mac has to figure out a way to find you, though with feelings involved it's not like any other case.

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, mentions of blood, torture/drugging, angst, fem!reader

You're front door flung wide open was Mac's first warning. The lack of your presence in the home was his second.

When he'd arrived with coffee in one hand, and his car keys in the other he hadn't expected it, and as a frown set deep into his features, the hairs rose on the back of his neck.

His voice rang out, oddly loud in the empty house, only to hear no answer back from you. Silence, from every room. Mac wouldn't have been so concerned had you been different people entirely, but you weren't, and what you did for work warranted a need to watch your back at every corner. Mac wasn't so good at watching his own back, but watching yours had always been his specialty, which is why the fact he didn't see this coming, cut so deep.

The broken lampshade in the living room, and the crimson that had long ago soaked into the carpet brought more fears to Mac's mind than he could count, and the speed at which he raced around the house looking for you was unmatched to any pace he'd set before. The first phone call he made was to your cell, which rang in the upstairs bedroom without you to answer it. The second was to Jack, who picked up after the third ring with an irritated groan.

"It's eight in the morning man, what d'you want?"

"Listen, you gotta calm down. You can't think straight when you're like this, and we need that big brain of yours if we want any chance of finding her." Jack has a calloused hand placed firmly on Mac's shoulder as they stand in your empty bedroom. Mac doesn't need a reminder on the importance of staying calm. It's how he's survived his whole life, how he's managed to keep Jack alive to this day, and how he's managed to save you more times than he can count.

But he isn't calm, at least not now. Mac's gaze is locked on the top drawer of your dresser, where you'd allowed him to move in some of his things the month before. Some trinkets, a few shirts, though he can see one of them strewn on the floor in the corner after a rushed discard of it in this very room a few nights before.

"Did I ever tell you we were moving in together?" his voice comes quiet, distracted as his eyes scan over the room. Before he can spiral further Jack's hold on Mac's shoulder grows tighter and he spins the blonde around to face him

"Quit using that past tense bullshit." The man snaps his fingers, loud, in Mac's face, cutting through the harsh thoughts running rampant in his mind. "Y'all are moving in together whether you like it or not, and when we get her back, you better start packing your shit."

Mac can feel the pain welling in his chest, before he pulls himself out of Jack's hold. He takes one deep breath in and holds it for a moment, the air in his lungs one thing he can control. And then he's focused enough to think, and to plan. He's ready to find you.

You can feel a dampness on your clothes, and while you're unsure if it's water or sweat, it brings a coolness to your skin. There's a sound akin to dripping somewhere to your left, and faint traffic in a direction you can't quite make out. It's dark, and it stays that way even after you open your eyes.

You're not at home anymore, that much is clear, but you're not alone either, and as your eyes adjust to the black you can make out the picture of a figure before you, leant against the wall in waiting.

"Tired?" it asks, voice full of enjoyment. A sharp plastic digs into your wrists, and if you were to hazard a guess, cable ties would be the closest you could get to what was restraining you.

You don't respond to whoever sits across from you, and despite the fear begging you not to, you close your eyes again.

Faking sleep is better than being forced into it by a harsh hit to the head, something you assume happened earlier by the aching you feel. And it's certainly better than torture or interrogation—something you can see coming from a mile off.

"No, no, I don't have the patience for games." The voice has come closer, though you hadn't heard the footsteps, but before you can even out your breathing, sell the lie, your nervous system forces you awake. Water, ice cold, covers every inch of your body, weighing you down as you gasp from its contact.

Your eyes are open again, and you can see your captor, which isn't any luck on your part. It's almost a definite that you'll be disposed of now, once all is said and done.

A singular light is on above you, a bright, irritating presence. And now, as you cast your gaze to your surroundings, you see the various tools displayed on a tray across the room. A scalpel winks at you, as do many other shiny metals.

You wish you'd never woken up.

Mac sits in the war room alone, scanning through security the footage Riley had gathered hours ago. He can't see a thing—or rather, he can't see you—in any of the frames.

On the quiet Suburban street where you lived, cameras weren't needed. Which rendered almost every tape Riley had pulled from the systems closer to town useless. And the more Mac looked through each one, his eyesight began to blur. Perhaps the footage wasn't the problem. Maybe it was Mac himself.

Angus MacGyver had never not had an idea in his life. He was a quick thinker and always had been. Yet, here he was—trapped in the large expanse of a government owned building and surrounded by technology that should have been assisting him—with no plans worth speaking aloud.

Mac found himself standing from his chair, heart beating at a furious pace. It was as though he couldn't get air into his lungs, and the breaths he did take seemed to burn, his anxiety acid to his insides.

He can hear his own gasps for breath in his ears, frantic and rapid, and for a moment, he thinks he might be dying. He can see his phone light up on the rooms center table, next to the bowl of paperclips, now half empty. But the phone makes it all worse, as with the notification and the device lighting up, he can see you.

Trapped in the phone, you sit grinning on a couch, Mac beside you with your legs in his lap. The lock screen is a moment in time, yet he can still remember everything that happens after. He remembers Bozer snapping the picture, and can recall his own hands, pulling you into his lap moments later. Mac remembers you, laughing into his lips, tasting of beer, and the icing from Jack's birthday cake. It feels like his chest is shrinking now as he sinks into the memory, mind sucking him into it before pushing him back out into the now. He doesn't know where you are, if you're alive or dead, and the burn of panicked tears comes quickly. His gasps increase in volume as he slides down the wall to the floor, and with the blood pumping hard in his ears, he can hardly hear the door open.

"Woah, woah, Mac!" Jack is on the floor with him in moments, a firm grip on both his shoulders. "Breathe man, in and out."

Mac tries, he really does, but everything inside him spills over. He's an overflowing sink and it's so unlike him, as if grief has taken hold long before he can confirm he's lost you for good.

"I don't know where she is, Jack." There's anger in his words, fear forcing it out of him, and in his peripheral, he can see Riley and Maddy in the doorway.

"I know, man. It's tough, but we're gonna find her." Jack's support does nothing to soothe him, and Mac finds himself pushing the man back, scrambling to his feet.

"Really, Jack? Because it doesn't feel like it. We don't even know how long she's been missing. How long did it take before I even realized she was gone?" Mac has forced himself to face the window, as if he can hide himself—his pain, no matter how clear it is—from his coworkers. His friends.

"Mac, this isn't on you. There's no way you could have known what was about to happen." It's Maddy, though Mac still refuses to face her. He can hear someone step forward, and by the rustle of a leather jacket, he knows it's Riley.

"This was never your fault, Mac."

"I didn't know she was missing. I should have known." He can hear the crack in his own voice as he tortures himself from the inside out. And then he yells, an agonizing sound full of anger and resentment as he turns, swinging his hand out to knock the glass bowl of paperclips to the ground. It shatters, as does Mac, and his friends rush to hold him up before he can fall.

Maddy sends him home after that, though that doesn't stop his racing train of thought. Bozer orders him take out that he can't bring himself to eat, and he waits for you, as if by pure will he can cause you to form in the doorway.

He tried to wrap his head around who would have taken you, but the list of suspects is too long. Was it revenge on you they were seeking, or was the plan to cause Mac pain in this very way? Was it something to do with the foundation as a whole or one singular person? Every mistake Mac has ever made forms in his mind, but none of them fit with the story he's put together.

The open door, the blood on the carpet, the broken household items. Your phone left behind, coffee pot empty as you waited for Mac to arrive. Your bed wasn't made, and Mac could picture the day you would've had had things gone right. It's dark out, but Mac can't sleep. he stands, and despite Maddy's orders, leaves the house.

You're cold, shivering in a shirt that isn't yours. It's one of Mac's, checkered and blue, paired with pajama shorts that do nothing to conserve your body heat. But having something of his right now gives you comfort, a reminder that he will be looking for you.

The room has looked the same for all the hours you've spent within it, and you have no concept of time in its confines. Whether it's night or day, you can't tell, but no one told you that the scariest part of being held captive, sometimes is the fact that you don't know how long you have been.

When you see the man again, your vision is blurred and you can hardly bring yourself to speak. There's something in your bloodstream now, a drug given to you by the stranger, that keeps you weak. A hallucinogenic that makes it almost impossible to decipher what is real and what is not.

"Do you remember me?" the stranger calls. He's organizing his tools across the room, black gloves making gentle sounds with each movement.

It's hard to breathe, let alone to speak. "No."

You're sure that's not the answer the man wants, but it's the truthful one you can give to him. You can hear his footsteps now and they echo loud in your eardrums, increasing the headache you already have.

"Think a little harder. Look at me, go on."

You raise your head, though it feels too heavy for your neck, and do as he says.

"Do you remember now?" there's a lack of emotion in his features, like he's made of metal and wires beneath the skin that pulls him together. But you can't put his face into full focus. Maybe it's the drugs, or the tears of frustration that pull themselves to the front of your eyes, but you can't remember seeing a face like his.

"No." It's a struggle to keep eye contact, but you hold out. "I don't remember a single thing about you."

The man lets out a grunt—at least that's what you make it out to be—before wandering back to his cart of metal devices. They're all surprisingly clean, and in between the items, you can see a syringe. A fresh dose of whatever drug you're already pumped full of.

You think the man is going to reach for it, but instead he picks up one of the many other tools. It's sharp, and you can tell it's going to hurt.

"Here's someone we both remember. Angus MacGyver. Does that ring any bells for you?" he's brought the knife, if you can call it one, over to your side, but you flinch at Mac's name more than the cool touch of the metal.

"Who?" You can hardly keep your head up, but if there's one thing you won't do, it's betray the man you love the most.

The knife stings as it digs into your bicep, and burns further as it's dragged all the way down to your forearm. There are tears and screams that leave you along with it, but you doubt anyone can hear. The sleeve of Mac's shirt has been torn in the wake of the cut, and your blood will stain the fabric forevermore.

"Angus MacGyver," the man speaks the name again once your screams have subsided to mere whimpers. "now, a little birdy told me a secret about you and him. D'you wanna know what it is?"

"I don't know any man by that name." You're curled in on yourself as far as you can go with your hands restrained behind you, the pain unbearable as it courses through your arm.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping here, but you don't look like the kind of woman to buy oversized men's plaid." He tugs at the fabric of your shirt, pulling you back to sit upright. "There is of course, this too."

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The man has pulled his own chair up to sit in front of you. It's made of old, splintering wood, and you don't understand how you hadn't seen it before. In his gloved hand, he holds a picture. Printed on glossy paper is an image of you and Mac, and unhelpfully, the photo has captured him, kissing you as though his life depends on it. Which he did often.

You're stood in an alleyway, Mac's hands gripping you tight as your own are tangled to great lengths in his hair. Next, the man shows an image of Mac, seated on a barstool with you in his lap. You both hold half empty beers with grins wide on your faces. You are shown picture after picture of you and Mac together, holding hands, kissing, laughing, and even fighting, all taken from some unknown point of view. But the last photo is one you recognize. It's shows Mac in the same blue check shirt you wear now, holding you close. He's looking down at you in the picture with the utmost affection, whilst you send a toothy grin to the camera. The photo is aged, with fuzzy edges, well loved just like the people it holds. It's the photo that has sat on your bedside table for years, and now it lies in the hands of someone who doesn't deserve its memories.

"Now we're all caught up, let's talk about our mutual friend." He's picked up the knife again, your blood still dripping from the blade.

"I don't know that man." you don't know why you're persisting when all the evidence lies in front of you on hard concrete flooring. You're buying time at best.

"Well you know his tongue at least. What, with it having been down your throat and all."

You don't respond to that, and a laugh escapes the dimly lit figure in front of you. He's moved back to his cart, eyeing up each and every violent item he could use to pull the words he wants from you.

"MacGyver knows me, even if you don't." The man picks up a cloth and wipes your blood from his gloves. His pace is slow, teasing. "He's a hard man to hurt, with no mother, father, siblings. So how do I get my leverage?"

The silence presses down on the both of you, and he's waiting for something. His eyes cast over you expectantly in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"Do you wanna take a guess?" He asks finally, brandishing now a new weapon, this one worse than the last. You don't answer, head sinking down in defeat, the drugs are wearing off, but you're still tired, and the feeling of your own blood flooding out of you isn't easy to handle.

The man takes his seat again, with the new blade in one hand and syringe in the other. "Men like him are weak for the women they love."

Mac had ducked under crime scene tape many times in his life, but doing so to enter your house was something he had never done before. It was dark in every room, Mac fumbling his way up the staircase in the black. He knew his way around the place by now, and he'd slammed into every door throughout his years of being your lover. He could probably recall how his back felt pressed to the wood of each one, whilst you kissed him fiercely, from memory.

When he makes it to your bedroom he reaches for the light switch, the bright yellow making everything clear. Your bedsheets, creased and pushed to the edge of the mattress, some of your clothes in a pile on the chair. Mac hadn't noticed before though, the empty picture frame on the bedside table. He can't remember a time when the frame wasn't taken up by his favorite picture of you, and now the lack of it jars him.

He's moves fast once it registers, and picks it up delicately. The frame is perfectly in tact, but it lacks the presence of your smile within it and it doesn't take long for Mac to race his newfound evidence to the phoenix foundation. When he arrives, what should be a dark, lifeless building, is lit up with people bustling about inside. The doors are unlocked and Mac isn't stopped on his way down to the lab like he thought he would have been.

"Hey, Mac!"

Jack. It's always Jack.

"Maddy sent you home amigo." He catches up fast, chasing Mac down the hall, though Mac can't stop. He slips into the elevator hoping to leave Jack behind, but the man pushes his way inside right after him. "What you got there?"

Mac has the lightest hold on the object in his grasp, afraid to damage what little information could save your life. "It's a picture frame, from Y/N's. Whoever took her could have taken the picture that was inside." It sounds so inconsequential when he says it out loud, the 'could have' in the sentence echoing out.

"So you're thinking you can check the thing for fingerprints." Jack confirms, nodding as the doors to the elevator open up to the lab floor. Bozer and Riley sit at one of the desks, scanning through what looks to be even more security footage.

"Mac," Riley's eyes are wide, and Mac can tell by the way she's scanning over him that he doesn't look well. His hair is disheveled from how many times his hands have anxiously raked through it, his eyes tired yet somehow wide awake. "We didn't think you'd be back till tomorrow."

Mac doesn't answer but instead places the frame down on the table. "We need to check the fingerprints on this, now."

But before any of them can make a move to do so, Bozer takes a sharp breath.

"Jack, you need to get Mac out of here." His eyes are fixed to the computer screen in front of him, and when Riley slides her wheeled chair over to peek at screen, she stands abruptly.

"What? What is it?" Mac pushes forward, but Riley blocks his view.

"Mac, I really don't think you should see this." She's placed her hands on his chest, trying to coax him backward, and without need for explanation, Jack grasps onto Mac's shoulders. He's trying to tug him out of the room, Mac realises.

"If you've found something, I deserve to know what."

Jack's fingers dig deep into Mac's shoulder blades, grounding him to the spot. "I don't know what they've found either, brother, but if they think you shouldn't see it, I stand by 'em." He tries to guide Mac away again, and the look on Riley's face tears him apart. Her brown eyes hold sympathy and a kind of fear he had yet to see from her.

"Riley," Mac's voice is surprisingly steady considering the waves he feels inside. "Just tell me one thing. Is she dead?".

She looks over at Jack, and they exchange silent words, though, Mac can't tell what exactly they are. "I don't know, Mac. I don't know."

There are tears that well in Bozer's eyes when Mac glances to him, and in a second, he's broken free from Jack's loosening grasp. He slips past Riley toward the computer, and he's choked for air the second he sees it.

It's a video file, sent to Bozer's email, currently paused. In the frozen image, you sit slumped in a chair, the rest of the room dark around you. There are cuts and bruises littered on every inch of skin that Mac can see in the dim light, and behind you, pinned to the wall is a collage of photos. Mac can just make it out from the blurry footage, the picture that had once been in the frame beside him stuck right in the center, above your limp body.

"Play the video, Bozer."

Mac can all but whisper it, his voice caught in the silence that lies between every pair of lungs in the room.

Bozer does as he's told despite hesitation and shaking heads from both Riley and Jack, and in moments, the footage is rolling.

Gravely words come from somewhere behind the camera, anger within them, and a kind of amusement too.

"She's not dead. I know that's what you're thinking. But she's not. Yet. Every cut was carefully placed, painful, yes, but not immediately fatal. She's losing blood, Macgyver. So it won't be long. 12 hours. Trace the email if you want. Take the easy way out. I won't be here either way. For what it's worth, I hope you don't make it in time. Then you'll know how I felt."

The audio cuts out, and the video comes to an abrupt end, the screen embraced in black.

Mac allows himself time to stand there, to think it over. His hands shake as he runs one through his hair, and he feels Jack's grasp on him once more. Mac flinches, a rage once unknown to him boiling in his stomach.

"You were right," he says finally, cutting through the quiet. "I shouldn't have seen it."

Thanks to Riley, Mac knows exactly where you are in minutes. He doesn't give the others time to stop him once he knows, and he's never raced down the Phoenix halls quite so fast.

He's burning rubber on the drive over, and when he finally makes it to the abandoned subway station, he doesn't think about the danger he's in. It's clear whoever has you really wants him, and he has nothing but an army knife on his person. Not that that had ever stopped him before.

He runs down every passage and checks every maintenance room he can find, tripping his way down every staircase. The hallways echo and groan, and with every sound he flinches, wondering if it could be you.

When Mac reaches the end of the station, he's at a loss for words. You're not here, or maybe he's missed something. Maybe Riley was wrong. He crouches down in defeat at the end of the tunnels, head bowed and breathless. He doesn't know why he does it, but he shouts, voice hoarse and dry. He's done a lot of that over the past day, even though he doesn't have the time to. His own voice echoes back to him, bouncing off of every surrounding wall. It sings down the tunnels and into the darkness, and it's all Mac has left. He leaps off the platform and onto the tracks, daring to walk down with only the light of his phone to guide him. The subway no longer runs, the tracks dusty after years of no use, yet it still seems dangerous.

Mac scans his phone's torch light over every crumbling wall, more than one rat squealing as they run from his fast-paced steps. He dares to call your name into the darkness over and over, hoping the sound of you will be a guiding light. He's hopeful, and with that hope comes pain. He doesn't hear you shout back like he prayed you would, even when he does so again and again.

Silence. Other than his own steps and the sound of his desperate breaths. Silence. Other than the crunch of dirt and debris under his boots. Silence. Other than the scream. The scream that finally echoes down the tunnel, pounding Mac at full force. Silence. Other than the sound of you.

His name echoes out of the black, your voice pulling him into a sprint as Mac continues to call to you, begging for your answer. He's closer now, close enough to hear your sobs behind the stone. You're behind the walls, Mac realizes, and he can't find the way in.

He's pummeling the solid rock, as if with his fists alone, he can break it. There's nothing he can use to help him, unlike many missions before. He's improvising with himself and himself only.

There is blood on Mac's knuckles from each slam of his fists when he decides to try a different approach. The bones in his hands still ache as he slides his palms along the wall, pushing on every crack he can find in the dark. He calls to you again, just to make sure you're still with him. Still alive. But this time you don't answer. It feels as though his heart may be constricting in his chest, like the ribcage that holds every important part of him has shrunk two sizes. He calls out again and is met with another round of quiet.

When Mac feels air, cold against his hand he knows he's found it. The way to you. He pushes hard against the stone that blocks his path, and the weight on his chest decreases, if only for a moment. And then he's in yet another tunnel, though this time he can see a light at the end. It's dim and seems to fade in and out as he moves. And when the tunnel opens out into a room Mac has never seen, the light sits like a halo above your drooped head. You're covered in patches of red. Blood, some dry, and some still dripping from the open parts of you.

"Hey, baby, can you hear me?" Mac is now knelt at your feet, Swiss army knife slicing easily through the ties that bind you. He fears for the worst when he places three fingers against your neck, checking for a pulse that is there, but weak. With every touch Mac's hands become coated in a new layer of your blood, warm liquid coming from behind ice cold skin.

"That's it, open those eyes." His voice is soft as you begin to stir, fear layered beneath his quiet tone, and Mac is tearing up his shirt in seconds for fabric to bind your wounds.

For a moment, he allows his gaze shifts to the wall behind you, where hundreds of photos seem to be pasted to the wall. Along with the one from your bedroom, the pictures contain nothing but you and Mac together. Every date night, fight and hidden moment not so private anymore.

Your eyes are open now, though your gaze is foggy, and Mac watches the tears run silently down your cheeks. He's trying his best to stop the bleeding of every cut and gash in your skin, and forces himself to focus entirely on the movements of his hands.

"You know, it's not as bad as it looks."

Mac is moving frantically to preserve what should be inside of your body when you say it, and when he looks back up at you, your eyes have closed again.

"Eyes open baby," He squeezes your hand as he continues to work, "keep them open for me." It's occurring to Mac now that he can't possibly cover all of your wounds, and that soon, he's going to have to carry you out of the room, whether you're bleeding or not.

"When were you gonna tell me you have a bunch of holes in you, huh?" He tries to send you a smile with the joke, but his voice cracks midway through the words.

"oh, I didn't notice." your chest rises hard with what Mac hopes to be a laugh, though a pained one. "I'm sorry for getting blood on your shirt."

"Shirts', plural" Mac corrects, gesturing to the pieces of fabric he has now wrapped around your wounds. "But don't worry about that, c'mere."

He's up on his feet now, and reaches out to pull you into his arms.

It's hard, and the howl of agony that leaves you in your attempt to stand is piercing, even with all of your weight held up by Mac. You're panting heavily, even after the majority of the pain has subsided, and Mac feels guilty about the next step in his pitiful plan.

"Just keep breathing, honey." his grip on you is tight, despite the fact his fingers press down on your injuries. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? On the count of three, bridal style."

"I was hoping we could save that for the wedding." The joke doesn't quite land, considering the sobs you mutter it through, but Mac forces a chuckle anyway. He adjusts his hold on you, placing a kiss to your temple as he does.

"On three, ready?" Mac can feel you grip him tighter as he says it, and his own heart races at the thought of hurting you. "One, two—" The three is lost amongst your cries as Mac lifts you into his arms, and he doesn't flinch even as your teeth sink into his shoulder out of sheer pain. Sobs wrack your body as Mac takes the first few steps out of the room, trying to be as careful as he can.

"I know, I'm sorry, you're doing great. Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths." He knows he can't put you down now, not until you're safe and outside, but without torchlight to guide the way Mac is seeing blind. He walks with caution through the darkness, wasting time with the snails pace he takes, and just when he thinks he's going to have to re-evaluate this plan of his, go back and make a headlight from the scraps in the room, Mac hears something up ahead. The sound of many shuffling feet, conversation, and then finally the calling of Mac's name and yours. It's his friends, Jack, Riley and Bozer, with their own torches some way up the tunnel.

"We're over here!" Mac shouts, desperation breaking the notes he speaks. "I've got her, we're here!"

Mac can feel your cries of relief into his chest, and as the lights up ahead get closer, Mac can't help but shed tears too. He's relieved, and as the beams shine brighter, he spares a glance to downward. You're looking up at him when he does, gasping through your own sobs, with a smile on your lips. And he smiles back, genuinely this time.

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

AN: I was supposed to post this two days ago for our boys birthday but that plan kinda went out the window when the doubts crept in.

94 notes · View notes

paperclipped-mongoose · 5 months

Text

Convincing Enough For You?

Pairing: Angus Macgyver x F! Reader

Summary: An important mission came up, and during the briefing it became clear that Mac didn't think you were the right fit for the flirtatious role.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Use of Y/N (not excessive), First Person, Fight Flirting, Arguing, A malfunctioning MacGyver, A villain who likes to take advantage of women, Couple Arguments. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey Guys! This my first MacGyver Fanfiction, I love writing the series and characters so let me know if you guys like it! Comments and messages mean the world to me! If you've got any ideas for future fic's my idea box is open! ENJOY!

“I’m not sure if this is the best idea, Matty. You know how they feel about each other.” Riley trailed after her boss as they made their way down the hall to the war room. She had been let in on the game plan for the next mission early because Matty needed her input.

“They’re adults. They can put their feelings, undefined they are, away in order to do their job professionally.” Matty could hope. Ever since you joined the Phoenix Foundation there had been a certain animosity between you and a certain human encyclopedia. You were never sure if it was flirting or trying to get on each other’s nerves.

Matty could hear the sounds of shouting from the war room down the hall. “Oh, get your head out of the clouds! You know all too well that if it wasn’t for Bozer and Jack you would have blown yourself up, gotten shot, or made some kinda poisonous gas to kill yourself. You think you’re way more aware than you are. But newsflash: you’re not!” You paused to take a breath, you had made sure to choose your words carefully, they were nothing if not the truth. Mac could make a plane out of a recycling bin and some potatoes, but he routinely got his ass saved by Jack in the field, and Bozer in his own home.

Mac stood in front of the coffee table, his arms crossed tight across his chest. “At least I actually do things to save our asses on missions. Or were you the one who made infrared glasses so we could see the cameras when Riley couldn’t access the system?”

Something about Mac’s defensiveness made you want to egg him on continually. Maybe it was because you liked to hear him talk, even when it wasn’t in a positive way. There were days where the two of you were civil and even friendly, but those days were boring. No conversations would be had, and the day inevitably turned into awkward silence and stares.

Neither you nor Mac liked it that way.

So you picked on each other. It was clear there were never any ill intentions, but sometimes it rode the line and, you were sure, made your coworkers wonder if you and Mac were actually mad. To be fair, it was a question that rarely had a simple answer. But that was just the way the two of you were. Complicated. And you wouldn’t have taken it any other way.

“Can we go one meeting without you two saying something distasteful to each other? One meeting. That’s all I’m asking.” Matty pulled up her screen on the wall before shooting a pointed look at those who stood around the room. Jack observed the screens as they came up, and Riley sat on one of the chairs doing her best to ignore you and Mac, knowing how this would go, and something told her Matty wouldn’t get her wish for peace.

“This is Bryan Snyder.” A rather unpleasant-looking man was pulled up on the full screen along with his Phoenix records. “Hacker extraordinaire with a rap sheet a mile long of gambling offenses.” Matty flashed a couple photos across the screen of Bryan surrounded by presumable winnings and women.

Riley finally took a cue from Matty and spoke up. "He's had incidents filed with multiple casinos, all stemming from his pension for picking up women who've just fought with their partners, while the partner is around."

Jack scoffed as he found his way to the empty seat next to Riley. “Sounds like he's made a game out of picking up girls on the rebound."

Jack’s comment earned a grin from Riley, who added: "At least he looks like he tips well."

Your leg bounced involuntarily as you fiddled with the few paperclips in your hand—not bending them, just linking them together one after the other to make a chain. It drove Mac mad, and you knew it. He was one who did things with purpose, so idly fiddling with some paperclips without reshaping or bending them clawed at him internally. “So what is our position in this?” you finally spoke up. “I didn’t know the Phoenix Foundation did personal vendetta work for ex-girlfriends.”

Matty shook her head watching Mac who silently but unsubtly stared you down as you wrapped the paperclip chain around your wrist to make a bracelet. “Not a vendetta. A prevention service for the Parisian government. Snyder holds a virus on his laptop that, if released onto the broadband servers of France, would cause nationwide blackouts and hold millions of people’s information hostage.”

Jack’s face soured at the thought. “Oooh, okay, yeah, so not an angry ex-girlfriend. Got it.”

“We’ve had Riley coding a USB drive that, once plugged in, can give her access to the computer’s system. That way she can corrupt the virus so that when he tries to open it, none of the code will be salvageable. The only thing our team needs to worry about is getting that drive plugged into Snyder’s computer for 8 minutes without him noticing.”

Another scoff came from Jack. “No offense, Matty, but this guy seems like the kinda nerd to be obsessed with his computer. He’s probably one of those weirdos who treats it like his baby or something.” He immediately turned to Riley who had her computer in her lap. He pressed his lips together and stood up, walking towards the other wall to get as far away from Riley as possible. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”

“Yeah, smart choice.”

“The plan, if you guys will ever let me get to it, is this: Is to send in (Y/N) with a partner to pose as our unhappy couple, Bryan has a stay booked with a casino in Monaco this weekend. It’s his last stop on the way into France. A messy breakup in the middle of the casino should be enough to pique Snyder’s interest, and from there all (Y/N) has to do is get him to take her to his hotel room so she can connect the USB to his laptop, which shouldn’t be so hard given his M.O. After 8 minutes, once Riley’s USB has done its job, (Y/N) will take it out and destroy it so it’s not traceable.” Matty pressed her lips together firmly when she noticed Mac shifting his stance and uncrossing his arms, which normally meant that he had something to say. “Can I help you Blondie?”

Mac took the opportunity and stepped forward. “Why don’t we just send in Riley? If the USB doesn’t work, she’ll be able to disable the virus manually. Plus,” a strong look of disdain settled on his face, “I don’t think (Y/N) can flirt convincingly enough to get him to take her back to his room. It’s dangerous to put the weight of a mission on it without a backup.”

That got you mad. You stood and eyed Mac in his stupid power stance. His hands on his hips while he stared at the screen as if he was avoiding eye contact with you. You wondered where all of his confidence had suddenly gone.

“Oh? You don’t think I can handle it?” You took a confident couple steps towards Mac. A well-placed hand on his forearm brought his big blue eyes back to you, somewhat confused as to what you were doing but it didn’t seem as if he was going to stop you.

You took his silence as permission to continue and slid your hand down his arm, bringing your free hand up to play with the suede lapel of his jacket near his chest. You lifted your eyes to meet his for a single, shy moment and couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed. Who thought it was a good idea to give a man with such a perfect face those baby blues? Fuck.

Mac was malfunctioning, his jaw slack as he tried to focus on anything other than how close you were to him. Or the fact he could feel your breath on his neck, or the way your hands held him. Tantalizing and unobtainable. He was sure if either of you did anything in the oncoming moments he’d find himself too deep to back out.

You slid the fingers fiddling with his jacket past his chest to his abdomen, felt the shiver run up his spine even though he tried his best to hide it. Your fingers reached his beltline with more confidence than you felt, and…there was a undeniable tension. One that left you wondering if perhaps you should excuse yourself and drag Mac into some unoccupied office down the hall.

A quick smack below the belt and Mac was half-keeled over, gasping for air as you stepped aside with a prideful smirk. “That convincing enough for you?”

The rest of the team broke into laughter, the sexual and uncalled for tension that was in the room had gone.

“The Macbook needed to reboot there for a moment huh,” Jack said patting your shoulder. “You’ll do just fine, and your mission partner will be there as your backup, you can trust them

Matty just pulled on that subtle smirk she wore when she knew something was bound to be entertaining. “Well, glad you’re working on your chemistry, because Mac is your mission partner. Try not to cause a scene before the target gets there, though. Wheels up in 2 hours.”

Mac had finally been able to gather himself and recover from the unexpected tap. “Let’s just hope you’re ready for 2 to be playing that game.”

A/N: Thank You guys for reading! I am thinking about making another part about the actual mission or what the aftermath would look like for your and Mac's relationship.

A/N: Remember I'm always open to talk to people (18+) about MacGyver! I love the fandom and want to interact as much as possible. If your interested don't be afraid to shoot me a message!

#macgyver 2016 #macgyver #angus macgyver #fearless macgyvers version #lucas till #jack dalton #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver x reader #angus macgyver x reader #macgyver reboot #Fanfiction #I love this man #he is kenough #getting hit in the nuts hurts #Macgyver fanfictions

93 notes · View notes

ash5monster01 · 27 days

Text

Ground Rules

Pairing: Angus Macgyver x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, just two first time parents trying to figure it out

Summary: Much to your dismay your shared child seems to take after Mac and his curious ways. You had heard the stories about his unique childhood and if you didn’t get it under control soon, your daughter was bound to follow right in his foot steps.

word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

When you had first started dating Mac there had never really been any rules. It wasn’t until you moved in together you finally had to put some in place. You had you tripped over one to many contraptions and been a little too close to some minor explosions that had you deciding on no experiments in the house. After a minor fight he finally agreed and Mac followed that rule to the best of his abilities and you appreciated him for it.

What you had never expected was having a kid just like him. You don’t know why it never crossed your mind that it was possible for your child to have Mac’s intelligence. To be honest you wished you would’ve and you could’ve prepared yourself for all that was to come with a curious mind desperate to learn. You had heard all those stories about Mac when he was a kid, blowing up football fields and smoking out labs, but none of it ever really felt real until now. They finally felt real because your daughter had now taken it upon herself to do science experiments anywhere she can.

You had left for only ten minutes. That was it. Ten peaceful minutes to go out and do some minor yard work. She was reading a Nancy Drew book on the couch when you left but when you had returned, the eight year old girl had covered the kitchen in what looked like some sort of green foam. It takes your mind only a second to go haywire, panic setting in, fear of chemicals, and misdirected anger at your husband.

“Jackie! What is going on?” you rush towards her, making quick work of pulling her away from the mess.

“Elephant toothpaste, I saw it on TV and Dad told me how to make it” you were sure smoke was steaming out of your ears by now. As proud as you were for how smart your daughter was, these actions could become hazardous.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what exactly is in elephant toothpaste?” you ask as calmly as you can, keeping your voice even as if to not scare her off.

“Hydrogen peroxide, yeast, dish soap, water, and food coloring for some fun!” she claps excitedly, eyeing that very mixture on the kitchen counter. Now calming over the harmless ingredients you look at where she has some foam now stuck in her curly blonde hair.

“All that made a huge mess in my kitchen?” you ask, reaching for a dish towel and wiping away as much as you can in her hair.

“Well I tripled the recipe for a bigger explosion” she says as if the sentence alone doesn’t make your heart stutter. Letting out a deep sigh you stand back up and start to guide her to the bathroom.

“You definitely are you father’s daughter” you mutter, hands squeezing her shoulders.

“You should’ve seen it Mom, it was huge!” she cheers excitedly as you start down the hallway.

“Let’s get you in the bath” you tell her and she just smiles wide, clearly content with what she had just accomplished and you now had to clean up.

Once filling the tub with warm water you help your daughter step out of her elephant toothpaste splattered dress and into the bath. Offering her a bath bomb she keeps her curious mind occupied as you step out and figure out how to prepare yourself for the cleaning you had ahead of you.

“What happened here?” you find your blonde husband with an amused smile on his face, eyes scanning the green foam.

“Someone decided to make elephant toothpaste, have any idea where she got that from?” you ask crossing your arms and Mac looks up to find you are not as amused as him in this situation.

“Shit baby I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d actually attempt it, much less inside the house” he says walking over to you and you sigh, trying your best to not place all the blame on him.

“It’s fine, I just have to figure out how to clean it now” you say, hands reaching up to push the hair out of your face. It had already been a long day and the last thing you needed was this.

“It’s okay, I got it. I’ve done elephant toothpaste a time or two” he says, hands reaching to squeeze each of your arms, and you offer a weak smile.

“She’s gonna be trouble, just like you” you say with an accusing finger and Mac smiles before pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Maybe, but at least I know how to handle it. When I was blowing things up I never had anyone who understood me” Mac says and you give him a panicked look.

“I didn’t say anything about blowing things up” you tell him, head beginning to shake and Mac quickly stops you.

“I know but I happened to remove an entire football field once in my life. Maybe I can keep hers contained to a small park or something” he teases but you give him a stern look that says you’re not ready to joke about this just quite yet.

“How about no explosions and no more experiments in our home?” you say and Mac clearly mulls it over. You know he wants to cater to his daughter’s curious mind, provide her with every opportunity he could to learn, but could that be done at the expense of your kitchen?

“One explosion and experiments in the yard?” he counter offers and you sigh.

“No explosions and experiments small enough to not alert neighbors in the yard” you finalize and he nods with a grin.

“I can accept that” he says before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now where’s our little scientist, I want to applaud her”

“She’s taking a bath, you can say hi after you clean up this mess” you tell him, hands pressing against his chest and in the direction of the green foam.

“And what about you?” he asks, a small pout to his lips and you slowly press a kiss to them. The pout gone in seconds.

“I’m going to help her out of the bath and then we’re going to set some rules” you tell him and he nods, saluting you as you walk back to the bathroom to find Jackie hadn’t even washed her hair yet.

It’s only an hour later you finally have the small girl in fresh pajamas, damp hair combed, and sat between you and Mac on the couch. The Nancy Drew book from before is open on her lap and you finally give Mac a look to tell him it’s time to set some rules and create boundaries for her.

“Jackie honey?” you coo, fingers reaching to push away the book for a moment.

“Yeah Mom?” she says, half distracted and trying to chase the page as it moves away from her.

“We wanted to talk to you about your little experiment today” you tell her and Mac nodded, blue eyes finding his daughter’s matching ones.

“Yeah honey, just a quick chat” and at her father’s words she finally closes the book on her lap.

“We love that you enjoy learning new things. It’s amazing the things you already understand, but we need to set some rules” you tell her and a sad look flashes across her features in seconds.

“You made a big mess today, one that worried your Mom. So there can’t be anymore experiments in the house” Mac says and the girls is instantly defeated, a gasp leaving her mouth.

“But Dad, it was just elephant toothpaste. It wasn’t dangerous!” she whines and Mac shakes his head, staying firm and on your side.

“Yeah but your Mom didn’t know that. So there is going to be no more experiments in this house unless approved and supervised by one of us” he tells her and her lip instantly quivers as her arms cross over her chest.

“But you and Dad can do as many experiments in the yard as you want and he’s also agreed to bring you to his lab at work once a week to learn something new” you comfort the sad girl, arm wrapping around her.

“You promise?” she asks, hopeful eyes looking up at her Dad.

“Of course honey, pinky promise. We want you to grow and learn but science can be dangerous and it’s important we treat every experiment as that” he tells her and she nods even though you know she’s not entirely on board yet.

“Does that mean I have to tell you about the habitat I’m growing in my closet?” she whispers and you flash a worried look to Mac who is trying his best not to laugh.

“Well, why don’t we go find out” he says, standing and lifting the girl to dangle over his shoulder. The giggles and squeals she lets out are a stark contrast to the somber mood she was just in and you can’t help but smile as you watch them disappear down the hallway.

“Is that a toad?!” you hear Mac’s voice bellow down the hallway and you are quick to stand to your feet and rush down the hallway.

“Oh hell no”

Taglist: @mayfieldss

Comment if you want to be tagged in any upcoming Macgyver fics <3

39 notes · View notes

strange-relics · 1 month

Text

I'm trying my best to finish at least one fic for Cairo Day next month, and one scene involves needing to crack a safe, something I was trying to do in a way that was heavily improvised and very much on brand for our boy Mac.

Well I decided to bring it up to my grandfather (former EOD, named Jack) during our weekly coffee date today, and not only did he tell me exactly how to crack that safe (using explosives and a wine bottle, no less) he even sketched a diagram of the whole process for me.

Once again I am reminded why the show hits so close to home for me, whose irl nickname is Mac, and whose father-figure is named Jack. Role reversal with the EOD stuff, but this fic just became so, so special to me!

#macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #jack dalton #cairo day 2024 #macgyver cairo day #macgyver cairo day 2024 #macgyver #macgyver fic #macgyver fanfiction #mac and jack

22 notes · View notes

boolger · 4 months

Text

I have once again made art for my own cult fic (18+, explicit)

#my art #macgyver 2016 #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #macgyver #ao3 fanfic #my writing #murdoc macgyver #my art lol

20 notes · View notes

hes-being-macgyver · 4 months

Text

felt the need to share all of my mac & co. inspired playlists…

disclaimer: i try to update these but i’m sure i’ve fallen short. these tend to be based on fanfics or random ideas from my head so don’t take these too seriously lmao.

#Spotify #macgyver #lucas till #macgyver cbs #jack dalton #angus macgyver #riley davis #wilt bozer #wunderkind #macgyver fanfiction #music #playlists

30 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 2 years

Text

The Collection of Failed Date Nights - Angus MacGyver Imagine [MacGyver (2016)]

Title: The Collection of Failed Date Nights

Pairing: Angus MacGyver X Reader

Word Count: 2,067 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: Mac and (Y/n) didn't expect their relationship to be the same as many "normal" people. Still, they were ready to do everything in their power to have some time for just the two of them. They had to learn the hard way that their plan was far easier said than done.

Author's Note: I've been considering one of those "____ Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with ____" for MacGyver, so (besides Taylor Swift because I get the joke) what artist would you like to see featured in that?

Oh, I used late season 1 for reference to the team members.

--------------------------

Night One: Matty couldn't call at a convenient time to save her life

Dating when you work with the Phoenix Foundation wasn't easy. When both of you work with the Phoenix Foundation, then there were times when you were going to feel like you two were less dating and more trying to work in excuses to hold hands at work.

Mac and I learned that lesson fast.

Regardless of the circumstances, we tried to fit in some of the "normal" things. Movie nights and dinners and dates.

Easier said than done.

We learned that very early on.

I smiled at the little diner that Mac pulled up to.

Mac tried to explain, "I know it's not very fancy, but it was all a bit last-"

I leaned over and pecked his lips. "It's great."

He grinned at me before shutting off the car.

The night went on pretty well. We got seated, got our drinks and food ordered, and were just waiting. It was starting to look like we were going to have a normal night.

Mac was in the middle of some story from filming Bozer's short film when my phone went off. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and groaned.

He chuckled at me. "Who caused that reaction?"

"Matty."

"You're kidding," his face dropped.

I nodded and answered the call, "Hey, Matty."

"Sorry to cut you and Mac's dinner date short, but I need you guys to come in," she said. I sat up a little straighter, looking around for some sign of her or anyone from the foundation. "You two were talking about it in the hall."

"The fact that you knew to explain doesn't comfort me."

"Just hurry up and get here."

She hung up before I could respond.

"We gotta go," I told Mac simply. He groaned. "I know. Come on."

He pulled himself out of the booth and got out his wallet. "We would have much better luck if we just started ordering our food to go."

I just nodded.

Night Two: Jack is a lost puppy (even if he refuses to admit it)

We thought drinks would be easier than most things.

Not as big of a commitment as most things, easier to pay for in a rush, and it allowed Mac and I to actually talk.

We were both leaning on the table while Mac was attempting to show off after I questioned the whole paperclip habit. He was trying to prove that it was incredibly useful.

I leaned on his shoulder, chuckling as he rambled about the paperclip.

"Hey!"

I looked away from Mac when I heard Jack's voice. The small pang of disappointment made me feel guilty because I liked Jack. He's a great guy. But also, I was on a date.

"Hey," Mac greeted him.

"You two mind if I sit?"

Mac nodded, motioning toward the other side of the booth.

"How are the lovebirds doing," Jack asked.

"(Y/n) was making fun of how much I mess around with my paperclips."

"'Making fun' makes me sound mean," I said. "I was more questioning."

"Don't worry, I make fun of him too," Jack replied.

I let out a laugh and leaned back against the booth.

Mac just scoffed, "I'm happy you two find this funny, but I have saved both your asses several times with these paperclips-"

"And a crap ton of other stuff," I shrugged.

"Usually involving my phone," Jack added.

"You are both rude," Mac muttered.

I leaned on his shoulder again and he placed his hand on my knee. It was nice. I wish we had planned for our night to involve more than just the two of us, but this was nice.

I didn't feel right complaining about it.

Night Three: Bozer said he wasn't going to be home

I could barely remember what Mac had been talking about at the time. He was pacing a bit and rambling about something. I was sitting on his bed, occupied with other things. Like the fact that we finally had a night to ourselves.

"You're not listening," he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Excuse me? I always listen to you," I made it very clear that I was lying.

"Oh, really," he asked, stepping over to me. "What was I saying then?"

"If you mix hydrogen and a paperclip and... other... stuff..."

"What- woah-"

I pulled on the front of his shirt so I could press my lips to his. He managed to catch himself by placing his hands on either side of me. He chuckled as he kissed me back, making me grin into the kiss.

I started moving back, pulling Mac along with me. I laid down, moving my hand into his hair. He lowered himself onto his elbows. My free hand moved to his shirt buttons, starting to undo them. It was not as easy as I thought it would be.

His lips moved to my neck, moving down from the spot below my ear.

And then... Bozer's voice sounded from the main room.

"Mac! I was thinking and-"

"I'm gonna kill him," I muttered.

Mac laughed at me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

"You said he was going to be gone for the night," I groaned.

"I know, I know," he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll go talk-"

The door swung open before he could finish his thought. Bozer froze in the doorway. He looked between me lying on my back and Mac's shirt being half-undone.

"Did I interrupt something," he asked.

"Wanna take a wild guess," I replied, pushing myself up on my elbows.

He just nodded. "Well, I was gonna order some food if you guys..."

I raised an eyebrow at him. He just smiled guiltily before walking out.

I let my head fall back onto the pillow and shut my eyes. I felt a kiss get pressed to my forehead. I looked at Mac for a moment to grin, hoping to show that I was upset with the situation and not with him.

One day, I thought as I reached up to touch the side of his face. One day we'll get a normal date night.

Night Four: Mac needs to check his pockets before going out on a mission

We had honestly gotten lucky the trip was as quick as it was. The two of us had invested in some tickets to a small concert. The idea was that the show was small enough that we wouldn't break the bank if we weren't able to make it.

But here we were, standing in line for a concert. We were going to get a couple of hours together just to enjoy what was going on around us. It was a dream.

When we got to the door, Mac went to pull the tickets out of his pocket. He insisted on keeping a hold of them "just in case". I don't know what he thought would happen if I kept them, but I wasn't going to argue about something that didn't matter.

But as a nervous smile formed on his face, I wonder if I should've argued more.

He reached into his other pocket before starting to frantically check every pocket he had. Small scraps, a paperclip, but no tickets.

The guy at the door finally waved us away. I crossed my arms over my chest and started walking back to the parking garage that we had paid for. Another waste of money.

"(Y/n)," Mac followed close behind me. "I'm sorry."

I tried to blink away the tears of frustration that had formed in my eyes. "It's fine."

"No, it's not," he grabbed my arm so he could turn me around. "I... I screwed up our whole night and I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes for a moment. His hands cupped the sides of my face. I felt him press his lips to my forehead.

"I'll make it up to you," he was basically speaking against my skin. "I promise. I'll figure something out. I am so, so sorry for this."

"I just wanna go home," I mumbled, feeling the tears starting to fall. Mac pulled me forward into his arms, guiding my head to rest on his shoulder.

"Okay," he replied. "That's okay. Maybe... Maybe we can find a good movie or something. And then we can relax and cuddle, yeah?"

"I want to go home alone," I corrected my statement as I stepped back. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize," he grabbed my hand, starting to lead me to the car. "That's okay. It's your choice."

I felt bad for being so upset, but I had been looking forward to tonight. It felt like everything in the world had gone right for us to be there only for us to get smacked down right at the end. It hurt.

Mac was understanding when he dropped me off. He kissed me gently, continuing to mumble how sorry he was.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I replied before getting out of the car.

Mac refused to drive away until he saw me walk inside. I waved at him from the door before stepping inside.

As I locked the door behind me, I leaned my head against the door.

I just wanted one night with no interruption or mishap. I never realized how difficult that would be to achieve.

Night Five: Does it count as escaping an escape room if we never went inside?

The other three hadn't even known about the escape room until Mac and I were getting ready to leave.

And then, Bozer asked if he could join. He was completely oblivious to the idea that Mac and I may have wanted to do something on our own. I looked at Mac, letting him make the decision. He looked back at me for a moment before looking at Bozer and nodding.

And then, Bozer asked to let Jack and Riley tag along, saying that it would be good for the team to see each other outside of a life-or-death situation. Mac nodded to that idea too.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to me as he kissed my head.

"It's okay," I promised despite my disappointment.

The other two met us there.

It all seemed to be going fine until it was actually time to go into the room.

"Wait, gotta tie my shoe," Mac touched my arm as he knelt down. I stopped, scoffing at him for grabbing my arm.

Just as Mac finished tying his shoe, he jumped up and pushed the door shut. He nodded at the workers and grabbed my hand.

"What are you doing," I asked, letting him lead me out. "We can't just abandon them."

Mac stopped outside the building, pulling me abruptly into a kiss. I almost squeaked out of shock as he did. My hands touched his sides as I kissed him back. He leaned back a few moments later.

"What do you say to picking up dinner and going back to my place," he suggested.

"And just leaving them trapped here?"

"It's an escape room. That's the point."

I chuckled as he leaned in and kissed me again.

I hummed and pulled back. "You've got yourself a deal, MacGyver."

He grinned. "Good."

He started pulling me along with him again.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket when it started ringing. Before I could properly look at the name, Mac grabbed it and declined the call.

"Mac!"

"We've earned a night together," he explained as he handed my phone back to me. "No interruptions."

"I didn't realize that it was upsetting you so much."

"I love the team," he replied. "I really do. But there are times when I want to be with you. Only you. I don't want to be a jerk, but... I felt like this was the only option."

I frowned at him. "We should probably sit down and talk with them about that."

He nodded.

"Instead of locking them in an escape room."

He chuckled, looking down for a moment. "That was a little rude, huh?"

"Maybe a bit," I confirmed. After a moment, I pulled on his arm. "Hey... I love you."

"I love you too."

Mac was right. We deserved to have time to ourselves. And we were getting there. It was just a learning curve.

A very complicated learning curve.

--------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters