Work Text:
"Shit."
MacKenzie turned to look at her husband, knee deep in the parts for the bike they had bought Charlotte for Christmas, and rolled her eyes.
It had been a profanity laden process so far, Will's attempt to put together the bicycle, and Mac had to bite her tongue from pointing out that Will had insisted on putting it together himself. Three days before Christmas, he had pulled the box from their bedroom closet and announced he would have it together in no time.
"I can do this for my daughter," he had said when MacKenzie had mentioned that Charlotte asked for a new bike. "I can put together a goddamn bike." Mac had put up her hands in surrender, but just to cover her bases, since the bike was the one and only thing her little girl had asked for from Santa, she had asked Jim to run out and buy a pre-assembled bike which was currently stashed away at his apartment.
Just in case.
"I think I'm missing parts," Will sighed.
"Yeah. That's the problem," Mac deadpanned, and Will glared at her. "Ready to accept defeat?"
"My daughter asked for a bike for Christmas, she'll get a damn bike for Christmas," he replied, and when she didn't say anything his eyes narrowed. "You bought another fucking bike."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mac feigned ignorance, focusing on the present she was wrapping for Teddy. She could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head, but she kept her head down and ignored him.
"You have no faith in me!" Will exclaimed. “I can’t believe you! You went out and bought another bike behind my back.”
"That's just not true," Mac argued. "It has nothing to do with the level of faith I have in your abilities. That’s not it at all. I just thought that you were underestimating how hard it would be to put together a bicycle."
"I grew up on a farm," Will shot back. "I know how to work with my hands."
"You sure do," Mac's tone was salacious, and she winked at him, throwing him momentarily off guard.
"Don't," he warned, fighting the smile that was tugging at his lips. He would not smile, damn it. He was mad at her.
"I'm sorry, I think it's really sweet, Will, that you wanted to do this for her, I just..." Mac shrugged helplessly.
"This is a fucking nightmare. There’s a very small chance, very small, that I might be in over my head," Will finally said, sighing and dropping the wrench he had been using. "Where's the bike you bought her?"
"Jim's," she confessed.
"Jim!" Will exclaimed. "You dragged him into this too?"
"Shut up," Mac wagged a finger at him. "He was a willing accomplice." She stood, and crossed over to where he was sitting on the floor surrounded by metal parts. She held out a hand and tugged him to his feet, tangling their fingers together and leading him to their bed.
"No faith," he muttered, but she pressed a line of kisses along his jaws and she could feel his smile rather than see it, so she assumed she was forgiven.
"You could do it, absolutely, but the point is you don't have to do it," Mac argued. "Your time could be better spent in other ways." Her hands began exploring, sliding under his t-shirt as she dipped her head and nipped at his chin.
"You're trying to distract me from being angry with you," he accused.
"Is it working?" Mac asked, her tongue doing things that made him lose his train of thought. He turned, and in one swift move, he gently threw her down onto the bed, lowering his mouth to meet hers.
"Damn it, yes," Will answered. She giggled, tugging his t-shirt up over his head.
"We'll pick up the bike from Jim's tomorrow," Mac instructed, using what Will had come to recognize as her boss voice. It worked on both the staff in the newsroom as well as their children, and he hated to admit that it worked on him too. "You can put a bow on it."
"Can I?" Will mocked, and she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him down to meet her, and kissing him hard.
"Yep," she broke the kiss and grinned at him. As his hands grabbed the bottom of her pajama top, they were interrupted by the baby monitor, and Will sighed, resting his forehead against his wife's.
"Our children have terrible timing," Will whined. Mac laughed, sliding out from where he had her pinned to the bed.
Their kids really did have terrible timing. Charlotte was the queen of ill timed bad dreams, her little voice calling out "Mummy?" just as Mac's head was thrown back and Will was finding his rhythm. Teddy appeared to be following right in his big sister's footsteps. Will would be annoyed, but it was really hard when Mac returned with both of them, Charlotte running ahead of her mother and brother, diving under the covers and pressing her little nose into the crook of Will’s neck, Teddy grinning a toothless grin from Mac’s arms (and really, interrupted night time activities generally meant that MacKenzie called Will up to her office and dragged him by his tie into her bathroom, allowing him to hoist her onto the sink as she breathlessly informed him of ratings and staffing changes. “Multitasking,” she called it, shuddering against him).
Will loved those nights, wouldn’t trade them for anything, having everything he needed within his reach.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t curse under his breath as his son’s cries made the monitor crackle to life, making his wife straighten her pajama top and move away from him.
"Teddy," Mac said, stepping over the half assembled bike. "I'll be right back. Don't move. I plan on seeing just how good you are with your hands." And Will grinned to himself, deciding that she was right (she usually was, though he would never admit that).
There were way better uses for his time than putting together a bike.