Chapter Text
Mac, Bozer and Riley are looking as exhausted as Jack's feeling. They've returned to Los Angeles earlier that night, but since the briefing couldn't wait, they're still at HQ.
When they're finally done, Matty regards her agents with sympathy: “You did an amazing job. Now go home, get some rest.”
All of them are dragging their feet by now, therefore, Jack offers to drive Riley and Bozer home too.
“What makes you think that you'll be the one driving?” Mac asks.
“It's alright,” Bozer says without waiting for Jack's answer. “I'll give Riley a lift so she can tell me all about her new squeeze.”
Riley raises her eyebrows: “Oh yeah?”
“Come on, I know you want to.” Bozer grins.
“You sure you're not just projecting?” Riley retorts.
Bozer pretends to ponder this: “Nah... It's more like wishful thinking.”
They're still bickering when they reach the garage.
“Gimme a heads-up if you think he ain't good enough for her,” Jack mutters into Bozer's ear as they say their goodbyes.
“Heard that,” Riley says, but she hugs him tightly nevertheless: “Be careful with your arm, okay?”
“I will,” Jack replies, touched. He got grazed by a bullet, which was why he had to make a brief stop in Medical earlier; fortunately, Dr. Sinderby didn't insist on keeping him there, provided he followed the doctor's instructions at home.
“If there are any self-inflicted complications, I'll be very stern!” Dr. Sinderby said, regarding him over the rim of his glasses.
“Don't worry,” Jack did his best to subdue a yawn. “This one here's gonna make sure I won't overdo it.” He motioned towards Mac, who nodded: “I'll be stern too, if need be.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows at that, but Jack grinned: “You'd be surprised.”
At home, Jack and Mac head straight to their bedroom.
“Shower tomorrow?” Mac mutters tiredly, and Jack nods: “Fine with me.”
When he comes out of the bathroom, Mac's already under the covers. Jack crawls in with him, sighing contentedly when Mac closes his arms around him. He can feel that Mac's hesitant though; it's in the way he tries not to put too much pressure on Jack, and in the way his hands barely rest on his skin, almost hovering instead.
“What's wrong?” Jack asks, though he can guess what it is.
“If I'd been faster, you could have dodged that bullet entirely.”
Had Mac not sounded so serious right now, Jack would have smiled.
“It's not your fault, hoss,” he says gently.
“But-”
“No, I mean it. You did your thing as best as you could, and I did mine. I however tripped when I ran to cover and almost lost my balance for a moment, that's why I was too slow.”
Mac exhales softly: “But-”
“Darlin',” Jack immediately interrupts him. “Stop it. I'm fine. Nothing major happened, and if it had, it still wouldn't have been your fault. If anything, this one's on me for not being able to keep my footing when it counted.”
Even though Mac remains silent, he still exudes an air of skepticism. It breaks Jack's heart, knowing how he'd have beaten himself up if things had actually gone pear-shaped.
“Believe me,” Jack therefore adds. “I'd already have given you an earful if it weren't.”
This elicits a tiny snort, but after a moment, Mac's loose grip on him slowly becomes more firm.
It amazes Jack how things can throw Mac just like that sometimes; usually, he's so self-assured and composed. Then again, Jack probably shouldn't be surprised. Mac's history in combination with his sense of responsibility are a force to be reckoned with, after all, not necessarily making Mac's life easier.
Jack nuzzles the bit of skin he can reach: “Okay, darlin'?”
“Yeah.” Mac's voice is almost inaudible, but it sounds honest.
This time, Jack does smile. “Sleep well, bud,” he mutters.
“You too.”
They wake up late on the following day: it's past eleven already.
Jack sits up with a grimace, since his arm is making itself known by now.
In the bathroom, he takes one of the pain relievers Dr. Sinderby gave him; he can feel the aftermath of the mission not only because of his injury but also in the way his aching body reminds him of the short but vicious fight with two thugs and the general exertion of the previous days. Therefore, he's all for taking it slow.
Back in the bedroom, Mac's blinking and rubbing at his eyes with one hand, having been roused by Jack getting up.
“Mornin',” the latter says. “I'mma make some coffee. You wanna get up or drink it here?” Sometimes, they indulge themselves by having their first coffee of the day in bed, starting the day at a leisurely pace.
Mac smiles: “Here sounds good.”
“'kay.” Jack's relieved to see that Mac seems alright.
Predictably, Mac nevertheless gets up too and, after a detour to the bathroom, follows Jack into the kitchen: “Need any help?”
“'Cause of my arm? Nah, I'm good. Already took one of the pills the good doc insisted I take home.”
Mac nods, opening the fridge and browsing the contents: “We got bagels and salted cream cheese.”
“Sold. I'm starving.”
With a laden tray, they return to the bedroom five minutes later.
“Feels like Sunday,” Jack says as they're crawling back into bed, sounding pleased. “Is it Sunday?”
“Tuesday.”
“Close enough.”
Leaning against a mound of pillows and Jack, Mac sighs: “This is awesome. We should do it more often.”
“Yeah,” Jack says softly, craning his neck so he can press a kiss on Mac's hair. “It's nice, being home together and having some time.”
Mac wraps his hands around his coffee mug: “I'm glad you're here with me.”
“Whoa,” Jack says after a moment of comprehension. “You're not still on the whole dodging bullets-issue, are you?”
“No,” Mac replies truthfully. “I just... I guess I'm just counting my blessings once in a while.”
Jack still thinks that these two events are directly related, but he doesn't mention it.
“Nothing wrong with that,” he says instead. Secretly, he's doing that too, every day in fact if he is honest, because he's aware what a lucky bastard he is.
Briefly, the corners of Mac's mouth are quirking up: “I dunno,” he then says. “Sometimes I think that I better not jinx it.”
This time, it takes Jack a moment longer to get his meaning. “You're allowed to be happy, darlin',” he says after a few heartbeats.
“I know,” Mac's voice is gravelly. “I just can't always believe it, considering all that happened.”
Once again, Jack's heart aches for Mac.
“I don't think anyone is truly happy all the time,” he eventually tells him. “I think it's actually moments like these, which you can savour and think back to, that make up the grand total in the end.”
At least for people like us, he adds in the privacy of his mind, because for him, this is what the majority of his own life has been looking like.
People who're putting the wellbeing of others first. He wishes he could change that, could give Mac the steady safety and security he deserves, but. Just like him, Mac chose his profession, and neither of them can imagine doing something else right now. So this is what it is, and he's doing his best to give Mac all the safety and security he can provide under the circumstances, hoping that it's enough.
“I'm happy with you,” Mac replies in a rush. “You know that, don't you?”
“I do.” Jack smiles.
Mac sounds relieved: “Good.” He pauses. “'cause everything's better when you're with me.” Jack's affection and care are the direct opposite of all that went wrong in Mac's life, after all.
Soft-hearted as he is, Jack now begins to blink rapidly: “I love you so much,” he says nasally.
Mac turns his head up to look at him, his expression soft: “Ditto.”
That night, they sit down at the fire pit with a beer, so close together that their shoulders are touching. Pretty much the whole day (or rather, the parts of it they spent awake) was like this, just the two of them, and somehow, they both still want more; it feels just right too.
Neither of them says it out loud because it sounds too cheesy, but if that isn't happiness, neither of them knows what is.
“To moments like these,” Jack eventually mutters, clinking his bottle against Mac's.
“To moments like these,” Mac repeats, smiling.
Yep, Jack thinks as he meets his eyes, completely unware that he's smiling broadly as well: lucky, lucky bastard indeed.