Archive of Our Own ^beta

"There are worst people to share a birthday with than Jesus," he pointed out, unable to keep the grin off his face. He was starting to think his grin was permanently attached to his face. 

"Would you like to hold her?" Helene asked, shifting slightly so that Ted could take the baby. 

He gathered MacKenzie Morgan McHale, all six pounds and three ounces of her, into his arms, and his daughter blinked open her eyes at him.

"Hullo there," Ted said, his eyes becoming suspiciously wet. Pull yourself together, old man, he chastised himself, you would think that this was your first go at this. "Merry Christmas, darling. Your mum thought you'd be a New Year's baby, but you obviously had a different thought."

"She's got a mind of her own," Helene mused, her smile tired but wide, and Ted hummed in agreement.  "I know you wanted a boy this time," she added, her voice soft and drowsy. "I hope you aren't too terribly disappointed it's another girl."

"No matter," Ted insisted, brushing a kiss to the top of MacKenzie's soft head. "She'll do just fine."

MacKenzie had never once felt overlooked (which was a feat in and of itself considering she was three of five, her sister Penelope following only 16 months behind her), and it wasn't a cry for attention, honest, it was just that she was very nearly sixteen years old and felt like raising hell.

The thing was, it wasn't really Mac's fault that she was the spitting image of her oldest sister Piper, newly turned 21 year old. And it also wasn't Mac's fault that her parents had decided to send her and Pen to an American boarding school, and that America's puritanical laws prohibited the purchasing of alcohol to anyone under the age of 21. And, it wasn't as if Mac was planning on throwing any sort of crazy party at her parent's house in Virginia, she was just buying a couple of bottles of cheap sparkling wine so that she and her friends could ring in the New Year with a glass of bubbly in hand.

So it was actually the epitome of unfair that Mac had to spend Christmas Eve at a police station while Gomer Pyle tracked down her parents so they could come pick her up.

She caught sight of father first, his eyebrows sloping down in an alarming manner as he stormed into the police station.

"Ted McHale, I'm here to pick up my daughter," he said, the anger in voice poorly concealed, and Mac slid down in her seat and tried to be as invisible as possible.

It didn't work. Her father caught sight of her, and his eyes narrowed. Mac swallowed hard.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Other than barking, "Mac, let's go," at her, her father didn't say a word the length of the drive home, and Mac had a thousand apologies on the tip of her tongue, but none managed to make it past her lips.

When her dad pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, he was still for a moment, and she wasn't moving until he moved.

"I'm sorry I ruined your Christmas Eve, Dad," she finally spoke up, the tension between the two of them finally getting the better of her. She absolutely hated when her father was upset with her.

"What were you thinking?" He asked after a beat.

"I was thinking I looked a whole lot like Piper, and I should use that to my advantage," she answered honestly. "I was also thinking that it's the God given right of every person, regardless of age or creed, to ring in the New Year with a glass of champagne."

To her surprise, her father's face cracked, and he let out a snort.

"You should apologize to your sister for taking her ID," Ted said, and Mac nodded. "And you're grounded for the rest of winter break. And next time, just ask your mother and I. We'd have given you the champagne. We're English, dear, we're not prudes when it comes to drinking like your beloved Americans."

"That's fair," she agreed.

"It's after midnight," he said after a moment, glancing down at the clock on the dashboard.

"Oh, it is," Mac answered. "Merry Christmas, Dad." He leaned over and tucked a kiss into her hair.

"Happy birthday, MacKenzie."

"Are your parents upset that you aren't making it home for Christmas?" Will asked, running a hand down her bare back. Mac's head was tucked under his chin, and she pressed a kiss to the hollow of his neck.

"I think my mother's slightly put out, but it's a long flight for just a couple of days," Mac said softly. "She understands that."

"I would hate to end up on her list before I even meet her," he replied.

"She's going to love you," Mac insisted, sitting up slightly so that she could look at his face. "How could she not?" Will smiled, a bashful smile, the kind that made her insides twist and her heart beat hard against her ribcage.

They had been dating for a little over four months, and she was starting to think about things that she had never thought about before, not with anyone. Not even with Brian (and she had broken it off with Brian for good a few weeks after she started dating Will. As soon as she knew that Will was serious, dead serious, about dating her. She hadn't spoken to him since, ignoring his calls when he called in the middle of the night, and finally blocking his number when he wouldn't stop sending texts).

Her parents had been more disappointed than she had let on, but mostly because she had made the mistake of mentioning to them that perhaps both she and Will could come out for Christmas that year so they could finally get to meet him. And she had wanted to, she had, but the news didn't stop simply because it was Christmas, and it was impossible for her and Will to both get away at the same time.

She had chosen to spend the holidays (not to mention her birthday) with Will instead of with her family, and she was trying not to think too hard about how easy that choice had been to make.

"Stay here," Will instructed, sliding out from under the covers. "Close your eyes, and count to ten."

"Why? What have you done? We said no presents, Will!" Mac accused, and Will sighed.

"Could you just do as I ask for once without arguing with me?" He replied, but the bite was taken out of his words with the fond smile that slid across his face.

Mac did as she was told, placing her hands over her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. She began counting to ten under her breath, and had gotten to nine when Will kissed her fingertips and gently pried her hands back from her face. Something fell into her lap and she looked down to see a small, wrapped box.

"Will," she started.

"We said no Christmas presents," he pointed out. "This isn't a Christmas present. This is a birthday present. We never made any rules about that."

"You shouldn't have," she began again.

"You haven't even opened it yet, how do you know I shouldn't have?" Will argued. "Just open it."

Mac slid a finger under the tape, carefully pulling off the wrapping paper and opening the small box inside.

It wasn't a necklace she had been expecting. It wasn't earrings or a bracelet.

It was a key.

Mac's eyes flew up to meet Will's.

"I'm not asking you to move in," he explained, "so you can take that panicked look off of your face. But I want you to have this key. I want you to be able to come and go from here as you please. I want you to feel comfortable here." Mac slid the key ring around her finger, and then framed Will's face in her hands and kissed him soundly.

"Thank you, Will," she murmured against his lips.

"Happy birthday, MacKenzie."

Mac woke up and for a moment forgot where she was.

It was going to take some getting used to, being back in Will's bed. But it was happening less and less. It was starting to sink in. This was her life. This was real.

She felt the bed sink next to her, and then Will's large hand was splayed over her back, his thumb drawing gentle circles in her skin. She felt him drop a kiss between her shoulder blades, and she smiled into the pillow.

"I'm awake," she told him, her voice drowsy and warm with sleep.

"I made you breakfast," he replied.

"Coffee?" Mac clarified.

"I value my life, Mac," Will shot back, and she turned over and smiled at him. "I wouldn't dare come in here without coffee." 

"Smart man," Mac slid up to a seated position, propped up against the headboard. Will leaned in and stole a kiss. He tasted like cigarettes and coffee, and it was so familiar, so Will, that her breath caught in her throat.

"I made you pancakes, too," he told her, tracing a finger gently across her lip.

"Pancakes?" Mac smiled. "Chocolate chip?"

"Of course," he scoffed, as if there were any other kind. He reached over and brought her a tray, setting it in front of her, and her eyes fell instantly on the envelope sitting against the cup of coffee.

"What's that?" Mac asked, and Will shrugged.

"Why don't you open it?" He suggested, and she narrowed her eyes at him, but tore open the envelope all the same.

"Will," she breathed in. "This is too much."

"You loved that apartment, you loved the location," he insisted. "Why waste any more time? I made an offer and they accepted."

"I loved it, but we really should live somewhere we both love," Mac said, her eyes skimming the deed she held in her hands.

"I love you," Will told her. "And honestly, as long as I come home to you every night, I couldn't give a fuck where we live." She carefully moved the breakfast tray out of the way, and then launched herself at him, knocking him back on the bed.

"Happy birthday, MacKenzie," Will said between kisses, and Mac didn't reply, she was too busy thanking him for his gift.

"Think it's going to bother her that she has to share her birthday?" Mac asked, unable to tear her gaze away from the baby in her arms.

Charlotte James McAvoy, born three and a half weeks premature, tiny, but strong. And clearly with an agenda of her own.

"Nah," Will said, his voice holding the same note of wonder that Mac knew was in her own. "She gets to share it with her mom, that's pretty great. And you know, Jesus. So there's that too."

"She's so little," Mac ran a finger reverently over Charlotte's soft hair.

"She's perfect," Will's voice broke on the word, and he kissed Mac's temple, before dropping his head to rest on her shoulder.

Mac was too overwhelmed to say anything else. She was exhausted, more tired than she had ever been in her life. Her limbs felt leaden, and she knew she was fighting a losing battle with sleep, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to miss a single second.

"As far as birthdays go," Mac yawned. "This was one for the books."

"You should get some sleep," Will insisted, and Mac let him scoop Charlotte out of her arms. He brushed a kiss to Mac's forehead, turning to place the baby in the bassinet next to the bed.

"Merry Christmas, Will," Mac said, her eyes heavy and her heart full.

"Happy birthday, MacKenzie."