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“So,” Will didn’t knock as he walked into his wife’s office on a Wednesday morning in early April. “I got some surprising news.”
“Hmmm?” Mac glanced up from what she was reading and pushed her glasses back up her nose. She had been back from her maternity leave for only a couple of weeks (although she felt like she hadn’t really had much of a maternity leave at all, seeing as she had spent long swatches of time at the office putting out fires after Charlotte’s birth, dropping off the baby with Will before heading up to her office to deal with whatever crisis was occurring).
“Apparently we’ve won a Peabody,” he announced. She schooled her features into an impressive, neutral mask. “Which is a huge surprise, seeing as I didn’t know we had been nominated.”
“Is that right?” Mac asked. “I imagine, then, that some congratulations are in order.” Will could see her fighting off a grin, the corners of her lips tugging up, and he fought a grin himself.
“I guess so,” he answered primly. He could tell the exact moment that she couldn’t take it any longer, the exact moment she broke, seconds before she whipped off her glasses and sprang up from her chair, dashing around her desk to throw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off balance.
“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Mac exclaimed, crashing her lips against his. “So proud,” she murmured against his lips.
“It was you,” he answered pulling back slightly to look at her.
“Who submitted our piece? Of course it fucking was,” she replied with a shrug. “You owe me $300, by the way. I covered the nomination cost, but now that we’ve won, I think you should have to pay me back. You’re the on-air talent, after all.”
“No,” Will shook his head slightly, trying to get his thoughts in order. “It was because of you that we won. The Boston coverage, that was all of us, that was you.”
He had been shocked, to say the least, when Gary came bursting into his office, a wide smile on his face.
“Happen to watch CBS This Morning?” Gary said by way of greeting. Will hadn’t. Not only were morning shows a waste of fucking time (did he give two shits how you made saffron rice? What the fuck even was saffron rice?), but his morning had been spent taking care of Charlotte since Mac had a couple of early meetings.
“No, should I have?” Will asked.
“Your name might have been mentioned,” Gary answered, and Will groaned.
Interest in both he and Mac had skyrocketed after his prison stint. They were a story. A quickie wedding on the day he was dragged off to jail as a martyr in the name of free speech? The masses ate it up. Add to that her promotion and the baby? There were photographers constantly outside of AWM and their apartment (something that drove Will crazy. He had never minded before, before when it was just him, but when he was carrying his infant daughter and being jostled by photographers hoping to get a shot of her little face? Fuck that). It wasn’t unusual for them to pop up on the morning show circuit, but Will couldn’t really pinpoint an exact reason his name would have come up. They had been laying pretty low lately.
“God, what now?” Will muttered.
“Can I be the first to say, congratulations on your Peabody, Mr. McAvoy?” Gary said, his grin widening as Will’s mouth dropped slightly. “And, well, shit, congratulations on mine, too.”
Will had known immediately who had submitted the entry. This had his wife’s fingerprints all over it.
But he couldn’t help but think that it was more Mac’s award than his (her third, in fact, and Will was so proud and in awe of the journalist she was. She deserved every award). They wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for her.
“No, Billy, it was you,” Mac poked him hard in the chest. “You were brilliant.” Her face split into a smile again, and he kissed her smiling lips.
He sobered suddenly, as grief washed over him, Charlie would have been so goddamn proud. Winning accolades for their hard work, being rewarded for their journalistic integrity, being honored for bringing actual news to the viewers and not bowing to popular opinion, it was everything that Charlie had been fighting for until his last breath.
Grief still hit him at the oddest times. There were obvious moments where Charlie’s absence ached, Charlotte’s birth for one. But then there were moments, small, insignificant everyday kind of moments, where Will would look to see what Charlie thought, and realize that Charlie was gone, and it would hit him like a punch in the gut.
“He would have been pretty damn proud,” Will said softly.
“He would have,” Mac agreed, smiling sadly. “I’m pretty damn proud.”
“You won, too, you know,” he pointed out. “Your third.”
“It is my third, isn’t it?” She mused. “I guess you’ve got some catching up to do.” And she laughed against his mouth, ignoring his offended glare.
“MacKenzie!” Will called down the hallway as he shrugged on his tux jacket. “We’re going to be late.”
“I’m coming, keep your pants on,” Mac shouted back. Will sighed loudly, turning his attention instead to the odd image of Leona Lansing, sitting on their couch, cooing at their daughter.
When Mac had mentioned, off handedly, about the dinner honoring that year’s Peabody winners at lunch one afternoon, Leona had jumped in immediately asking if they had gotten a babysitter for that night (while both were aware that they were most likely going to need help as Charlotte got older, for the time being they had worked out a great schedule where Will watched the baby in the morning while Mac went into the office, dropped her off at the daycare in the building where Mac picked her up later in the day, the two McAvoy ladies returning home to watch the show while Mac fed her. There were snags, of course, days where Mac was stuck at the office for much later, and Charlie hung out in the pack-and-play that was a fixture in Mac’s office, but so far it had been going as smoothly as it could be).
“Listen, little Charlie is as close as I’m going to get to a grandchild any time soon,” Leona said bluntly. “I’d be happy to watch her for a few hours for you.” Mac, stunned, had stuttered,
“That’s really not necessary. Very kind, but we can’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m offering!” Leona insisted. “Trust me, it’ll be my pleasure.” Mac had felt forced to agree, wondering how to best explain to Will that their four month old was going to be left with Leona Lansing, billionaire, pot aficionado, and former owner of ACN.
“Lay off, McAvoy, she’ll be ready when she’s ready,” Leona piped up from the couch, lifting her gaze from Charlotte to glare at Will.
Mac cleared her throat from behind them, Will spinning on his heels to get his first glimpse of his wife, looking absolutely stunning in an emerald gown. He knew that Mac was feeling slightly self-conscious about her post-pregnancy body (despite numerous and deeply sincere reassurances that he fucking loved every inch of her new curves), and this was the first time she would be out in formal wear since giving birth. Sloan had gone with her to try on dresses, and had reported back to Will that the dress Mac had picked made her look, “fucking hot.”
And oh God, did it.
He half wanted to drag her right back into their bedroom to prove to her just how gorgeous he thought she was.
"Since your husband is too stunned stupid to form actual words, let me tell you how beautiful you look," Leona said, and Mac blushed, hanging her head slightly.
"It's a little tight," Mac confessed. "Parts of me are bigger than I'm used to." She tugged on the neckline as she said this, feeling her breasts straining at the unforgiving fabric.
"You certainly can't tell," Leona insisted.
"You look gorgeous. I'm the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole damn world," Will assured, finally finding his voice. The compliment had its intended reaction as Mac lit up, smoothing down the front of the dress, and biting down on her lip.
"You don't look too badly yourself, sir," Mac said, crossing to him and bringing her hands up to straighten his bow tie. She placed her hands on his shoulders, before running them down the length of his arms.
"You better get out of here," Leona spoke up. "Before you forget that there are two other people in the room, one of whom happens to be your child.”
“We don’t want to be late for your big night,” Mac said.
“Our big night,” he corrected. He was only too aware that he would have never won it without her. There was a reason that she had two prior wins to her name. Wins for stories that she had gone after fearlessly, throwing herself headfirst in dangerous situations in the name of good journalism. She had taken a knife to the stomach, lived through hot days and cold nights in the desert, attended more than her fair share of funerals, and was haunted by the people she had met who hadn’t made it home and the things she had seen that could never been unseen.
Will would never be the journalist that she was. But he could be a journalist she could be proud of.
“Our big night,” Mac repeated. She moved away from him, her fingers briefly tangling with his, towards the couch, taking Charlotte from Leona for a moment to say goodbye. “There are bottles in the fridge, and I showed you where everything is in the nursery. If you have any questions, or need anything, just send me a text.” She dropped her nose into Charlotte’s downy hair, breathing in the smell of her. She kissed her gently, as Will leaned over her shoulder, dropping his own kiss to Charlotte’s head.
“We do really need to go, the car is waiting,” Will murmured, and Mac nodded, getting one more kiss in before handing Charlotte back to Leona.
“Call, if you need anything, just call,” Mac called as Will tugged her out of the apartment.
“Little Charlie and I are going to be just fine,” Leona replied, distractedly, her focus already having turned back to the baby. “Aren’t we little girl?”
Upon walking into the ballroom, they immediately spotted Tess and Gary, half drunk already, wide, matching grins on their faces.
“We won a Peabody, you guys, a Peabody,” Tess exclaimed. “Yesterday we were just journalists, today we’re serious journalists.”
“Technically, we’ve known we won since April,” Gary corrected. “And extra technically, Mac’s been a Peabody winner for years. This must be old hat for you.”
“Oddly, enough, this never gets old,” Mac replied, bumping her hip against Will’s as she leaned into him. “And this one is different.” And it was.
When she had won the first two, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She was trying hard to put as much distance and time between her and her past as possible, wrapping herself up in work and in tough assignments so that she could think about something other than how fucking much she missed Will. She had felt honored, of course, when she won. Pleased that her team’s hard work had been recognized and validated, but it didn’t feel like this.
Mac knew Will was trying to play it cool, but she knew him, and knew how much this award meant to him. It was validation. It was proof that they weren't just tilting at windmills.
The last two times she had won had been blunted by an overwhelming sense of sadness. She couldn't have Will, but she could have this. This award, this career. Professional glory, even though her personal life was in tatters.
But this time? This time her hand was tangled in Will's as they made their way to their table, Will's wide and sincere smile making her feel as if her cup runneth over. This time she had Will, and they had Charlotte. The only thing blunting this win was the aching absence of Charlie.
It didn't matter if this was her third Peabody, this was the most important.
This one was theirs.
MacKenzie was drunk.
Will was pretty pleased about this turn of events for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that he loved Drunk Mac.
It hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to drink that first glass of wine. Will assured her that she deserved it, and by the third drink in, Mac, having not had any a single drop of liquor touch her lips in over a year, was pretty good and wasted. She and Sloan kept repeating, “pump and dump” and then dissolving into giggles. (Will was sure that it would be significantly less amusing when she had to actually pump and dump later, but he wasn’t about to ruin her good time.)
Will had accepted the award on behalf of their team, giving a speech that Mac told him tearfully would have made Charlie proud, before kissing him hard on the mouth and humming against his lips,
“I’m so fucking proud.” Will shook his head, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I am. Murrow, Cronkite, Brokaw, McAvoy. You’re one of the greats, baby.” She grinned at him, a sloppy, wide grin, and he kissed the silly smile off her face.
“I wouldn’t have won without you,” he told her, his voice serious. “We make a good team.”
“We make a great fucking team,” she insisted.
They gently opened the door to the apartment, being quiet so not to wake up the baby.
Leona was dozing on the couch, Charlotte fast asleep on top of her. Mac disappeared down the hallway to change as Will nudged Leona lightly. She blinked one eye open, loosening her grip on the baby so that Will could pick her up.
“You guys have fun?” Leona asked, stretching as she sat up.
“We had a great time, thank you so much again for watching her for us,” Will told her gratefully. “I called you a car, it’s waiting downstairs.” Leona nodded, climbing to her feet. She ran a hand down Charlotte’s back and leaned in to press a small kiss to the back of Charlie’s head.
“I always forget how great babies smell,” she said, giving Will a small smile. “Tell Mac goodbye for me, would you?” Will nodded, and he and Charlotte saw her out, before he padded down the hall to the nursery, laying Charlie gently in the crib, grabbing the monitor, and heading to their bedroom.
Mac was pumping, leaning back against a pile of pillows, and she gave him a lazy smile when he walked in.
“Leona gone?”
“She said to tell you goodbye,” Will said.
“The baby sleeping?” He nodded, handing her the monitor. “I’ll go check on her when I’m done being milked.” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto a chair in the corner. He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder as he moved past the bed and into the bathroom.
There were times that he couldn’t believe that this was his life. That the beautiful woman in his bed was his wife, the beautiful baby in the nursery down the hall was his daughter, that this was his apartment, this was his career, this was his life.
Tonight was one of those times.
He glanced out of the bathroom and spotted Mac, her eyes closed as she finished pumping, the monitor held loosely in her hand. She had shimmied out of her dress, but her hair was still piled on the top of her head in some elaborate hairstyle, and her makeup was slightly smudged. She was beautiful.
He finished undressing, caring very little about the crumpled tux on the bathroom floor, and reemerged just to see Mac settling into bed, Charlotte in her arms. She glanced up guiltily when he came back in, brushing her lips to the top of the baby's head.
"I know, I know, she's supposed to be sleeping in her crib," Mac spoke up before he could say anything. "I just missed her." He didn't say anything, just climbed in next to them, resting his chin on her shoulder to look down at Charlotte. "In case I didn't say it enough, I really am proud of you."
The award was very nice. But he hadn't needed to win it.
Because he had everything he could possibly need right here, within his grasp.
The Peabody was just icing on the cake.