Chapter Text
"What are you doing out here?" She stands at the end of the couch waiting for him to look at her, unsurprised by the exhaustion on his face when he does.
"Couldn't sleep." He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "Didn't want to wake you."
"It's two in the morning, Billy, coffee isn't exactly going to help with that," she says, nodding at the mug on the table in front of him as she takes a step closer.
"It's tea," he answers quietly, as he slides something down between the cushions, aiming for casual, but failing. "I barely drank any of it, but you always make tea when you can't sleep, so I thought it was worth a shot."
"What's that?" She gestures to the cushion, even though she's fairly certain she knows what he's hiding because it's the same thing that has kept him awake almost every night for the past three weeks.
"What? Nothing, it's nothing," he says, forcing a smile. "Let's go back to bed."
"Okay." She smiles back and reaches for his hand, letting go as soon as he stands up and swooping in to grab the magazine stuffed down the centre of the couch. "I fucking knew it! You know this is bullshit, Will, complete bullshit, a hatchet job from my idiot ex-boyfriend. Why is it bothering you so much, this stupid story?"
"He is an idiot, and it is a total hatchet job." He tries to take it from her but she holds it behind her back and he gives up with a sigh. "But what if…what if he's right?"
"He's never been right about anything," she says, her hands gripping the magazine tightly, fury building at Brian again, at herself, at Will for allowing this to get to him so badly. "I highly doubt he's decided to start now."
"I should never have brought him in." He sighs again and reaches for her, changing his mind almost immediately, perhaps sensing her anger.
"No shit." She holds the magazine out in front of her, waving it at him as her irritation grows. "But you did, and this is the outcome, and there isn't anything we can do about it now. You brought Brian in to punish me some more, and it worked, but now you're being punished too and you didn't quite expect that, did you? You didn't-"
"I'm sorry, you know I am, I've told you I'm sorry and I meant it." He steps closer and this time he does reach for her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "I'll tell you every fucking day for the rest of our lives how sorry I am if it'll help."
"I think that might get old pretty quickly. You know, if you have chocolate every day, you stop getting quite so excited about chocolate," she says, her tone softening. She knows he regrets having Brian do the story, she's just angry that now the article is actually in print it's dragging everything up all over again.
"Yeah, well." He shrugs slightly, watching her closely as he does when she knows he's trying to read her mood, predict her reaction. "It's the thought that counts."
She nods and steps back, his hands dropping from her shoulders as she moves towards the door, sliding her feet into the first pair of shoes she spots, thankfully hers. She pulls the lock open and hears him cross the room in what she thinks is one single step, his hand landing on the door in front of her.
"Mac, don't go, please." There's a note of panic in his voice and she wonders if he'll ever stop thinking she's going to walk out every time they fight. "I'm sorry, I know I've been a fucking shit about this article, I know-"
"You have. You’ve been like a bear with a sore head over this but, for fuck’s sake, I'm not going anywhere, ever." She turns and slides her hands up his chest, letting out a long sigh. "I'm going outside to throw this piece of crap down the chute."
"Leave it in the box with the rest of the newspapers," he says, carrying on when he sees her raised eyebrow. "I'm not going to drag it out of there, I swear."
"Fine." She ducks under his arm and walks into the kitchen, tossing the magazine into the existing pile of papers waiting to be thrown out before moving over to where he has followed her, stopping in the doorway and looking up at him.
"We really didn't talk about half the stuff we should have, did we?" he asks, tucking her messy hair behind her ear, reminding her that she was in bed not so long ago even though it's starting to feel like she's been awake for hours.
"I think...we tried," she says, smiling at him. "And then everything was just so good, still is so good, and neither of us wanted to..."
"Burst the bubble?" He returns her smile, shaking his head slightly.
"I guess so." She knows he's right, they came back from Fourth of July at Charlie's and it was almost like it had been a dream that neither of them wanted to wake up from. "This weekend. Let's sit down this weekend and talk, okay?"
"Okay, this weekend. We’ll drink coffee, and eat bacon, and talk." he says, his smile soft as he runs his thumb slowly across her cheekbone.
"I see your bacon and raise you my pancakes," she says, leaning into his touch.
"Deal," he answers, with a nod. "Back to bed?"
"Yeah, and don't think I won't hear you if you sneak out to salvage that magazine," she says with a smirk. "I will hear you, I'll follow you out here, and I'll hurl it from the damn balcony. Are you listening to me?"
"I am." He reaches down and takes her hand, waiting as she kicks her shoes off again. "I hear you."
Shrugging off the cardigan she had thrown on to head out into the living room, she slides into bed and grins as he pulls her towards him. She curls up against him, half tucked into his side, half splayed across his chest, one leg thrown over his, her foot resting on his shin. Her hand slips inside his t-shirt, her fingers stroking through the light covering of blonde hair, her nails scratching faintly across his skin. Shifting, she wriggles higher up the bed and opens her mouth, running her tongue across his neck, the taste of him anchoring her, taking her mind, and hopefully his too, off the damn story.
His arms tighten around her, warm and solid, and his fingers roam over her neck and into her hair as she tilts her head back to look up at him, smiling as his hand cups the back of her head, his fingers gently kneading.
“You’re not going to grouch anymore about the stupid story, right?” she murmurs, her nails continuing their path across his chest. “You know he only wrote what he did because he’s jealous. He wishes he was half the man you are, he could only dream of having an ounce of your integrity and your decency, and he knows that, so he wrote what he wrote, a spiteful piece of crap.”
“I guess.” He sounds sincere but she can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Sighing she rolls fully onto his chest, looking up at him with a slight frown.
“You have got to stop feeling so sad about this, so angry,” she says, pulling herself up to hover over him, stroking her thumbs across his face. “I know you hate what he wrote, I know you hate that this has thrown him back into our lives, indirectly, thank God, but still…it just doesn’t matter, Will. It’s a nasty, bitter piece of writing from someone who isn’t worthy of the time we’re spending on it.”
"I just can't help thinking..." He pauses and her frown deepens as she starts to guess where he's headed. "What if that's what people think? What if I've been fucking kidding myself and nobody takes me seriously for a second, what if-"
"Oh my God, enough!" Her thumbs stop moving but she doesn't lift her hands from his face and she fixes her eyes firmly on his. "Why do you think I took this job when Charlie offered to me, despite knowing I was the last person you wanted as your EP? Because I had watched you sliding into mediocrity and I knew you were better than that, I knew you could do better. Do you think I'd have bothered going to Northwestern if I didn't think you were capable of great things, if I didn't-"
"Wait, back up." He stops her, his eyes wide, and she realises that amongst all the things they haven't yet talked about, Northwestern is one of them. "It was you?"
"Yep." She smiles sweetly at him, thinking of how long she's been holding onto her hand-written signs, how many times she was on the edge of telling him, and now here they are, finally.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He sounds baffled and she laughs. "I'm serious, Mac. All this time I thought I was fucking hallucinating and it was you all along?"
"I was waiting for the right time, I guess." She pauses, thinking of that first day, standing outside the elevator, ready to tell him, to show him her notepad, only for the doors to close and the moment to pass.
"And the right time didn't present itself until now?" he asks, a hint of a smile threatening his lips.
"I tried to tell you, more than once, even on my very first day at ACN, but I just..." She shrugs and bites her lip slightly. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
"Better late than never?" His fingers start to move through her hair again and he smiles.
"Exactly," she says, leaning down and rubbing her nose softly against his. "Now stop whining and kiss me."
*
The digits on the coffee machine clock look brighter than usual, harsh blue lights screaming how early it is at her. It's actually no earlier than her usual morning start, but after so little sleep, it feels it, and her eyes slip into that state where they want to shift from what they're fixed on but can't quite seem to manage it. Leaning back against the counter, she watches as the dial rolls over, 7.22am, and she pulls herself out of her trance to take two mugs out, hopeful that the coffee will kick in quickly.
She looks briefly in the direction of the pile of papers where the magazine was left last night, even though she knows he hasn't touched it. They had gone back to bed, having agreed to do some talking this weekend, had fast and slightly urgent sex, apology sex really, at almost three this morning, and then he had slept solidly while she lay wide awake. He's much worse at handling tiredness than she is though, so if a few hours sleep has instilled some calm in him, her exhaustion for a day will be worth it. He walks in just as she's about to go and try to gently nudge him awake, his hair in its usual morning state, but his eyes looking much less bleary than recent mornings, and she thinks maybe she should have tackled him about his obsession with the article days ago.
"You're up early," he says, stretching slightly and reaching to scratch the back of his neck. "Considering."
"You slept better." It isn't a question, she knows he did, and she smiles as he nods. "Good."
"You didn't, did you?" He steps closer and she knows he can see the faint circles under her eyes giving away just how little she slept.
"Not really," she says with a shrug. "It's Friday though, I can sleep in tomorrow while you make my pancakes."
"Was that some part of the deal I missed last night?" he asks as he reaches for the coffee pot and their mugs.
"Well, if you will fall asleep while I'm adding extra clauses." She smiles and takes the mug he's offering, sliding her hands around it and taking a few seconds to savour the smell of the coffee as it wafts up towards her.
"You didn't sleep even after..." His eyebrows raise and he grins slightly.
"I know, your sexual acrobatics usually send me right to dreamland." Pausing, she blows over the top of the hot coffee and takes a tentative sip. "Don't take it personally, there was just a lot swirling around in my brain last night, I think."
"You were at Northwestern." He sounds like he isn't sure if he imagined her telling him that and he looks at her expectantly.
"Yeah." She nods slowly, again thinking about how many times she almost told him and how it seems fitting that she would finally blurt it out in the early hours, almost forgetting that he didn't already know. "I just needed to see you, I wasn't planning anything, I mean, not really, but then when she asked that question and you paused, I...I knew what she was going to ask beforehand."
"What?" He puts his coffee down and leans against the counter, watching her. "How?"
"I'd talked to her outside when we were waiting to go in." She remembers the girl's enthusiasm, her slight embarrassment about what she was planning to ask, wonders how she's doing now. "She told me what she wanted to ask, and I...I gave her a tip on how to be first up at the microphone."
"So the fact that my answer ended up with me all over the fucking YouTube looking like a maniac..." He stops and she remembers that day so clearly even though in some ways it feels like years ago. "That was all down to you. You engineered it."
"I did what I needed to do. You needed a kick up the arse, something to remind you of how good you could be, so yeah, you're welcome," she says with a smirk. "Also, it's not the YouTube, it's just YouTube. You're so uncool, Billy."
"I know that," he says, picking up his mug again and pausing to take a sip. "It's something I work hard on."
"Well, it's paying off." She laughs at the expression on his face before she glances at the time. "We need to get moving, I need to shower."
"Me too." He takes another drink and puts the mug down on the counter. "We could save time and water by just showering together, right?"
"Oh, absolutely," she says, grabbing his hand and leading him from the kitchen. "You slept, I didn't, it might not be safe for me to shower alone, I could fall asleep and drown."
"We definitely can't take that risk." He squeezes her fingers and she smiles, stopping as he tugs on her hand suddenly and pulls her to him. "I can't have you drowning a month before we get married."
"I'm going to assume you didn't mean that to sound like you'd prefer I waited until after we're married." She leans up and kisses him quickly, grinning against his lips before she pulls away.
"Your assumption is correct," he says as he squeezes her hand again and they head for the bathroom.
*
She's lost count of how many cups of coffee she has had since arriving at the office, but she suspects it's probably too many. She's also fairly sure her tiredness is the kind that won't be beaten, that today is one of those days where she couldn't be revived if she was being given it intravenously. Her phone rings and it makes her jump as she grabs for it and almost takes her mug down in the process, frowning slightly as she sees it isn't a number she recognises.
"Mackenzie speaking." She rubs a hand across her forehead and holds back a yawn.
"Mackenzie, it's Nina Howard at TMI." The voice down the line surprises her, and fills her with instant suspicion, not helped by the sniping piece about their engagement that Nina wrote just a few weeks earlier.
(Mackenzie McHale is Will McAvoy's Executive Producer. She is also the ex-girlfriend who cheated on him and then sent a round robin email announcing just that. It seems that things over at ACN have changed, and TMI can exclusively reveal that McAvoy and McHale are now engaged and apparently planning to marry in the next few weeks. Can anyone say 'shotgun'?)
"Nina, what can I do for you?" She wastes no time on pleasantries, she knows Nina isn't calling for a chat and she's really too tired today to play her games.
"I have a source who has come to me with a story," Nina says, pausing for a second. "And it's something I think you should know."
"What is it now?" She sighs down the phone and her heart sinks and she wonders what dirt Nina Howard thinks she has dug up this time.
"Not over the phone." Nina cuts into her thoughts and she closes her eyes for just a second as she waits. "Bryant Park, the Andrada Monument, fifteen minutes, and come alone, okay?"
"Seriously?" she asks, angry now at Nina disrupting her day and refusing to tell her why.
"Fifteen minutes." She realises as Nina hangs up that she has left her with no choice. If this turns out to be something TMI runs that she could have prevented, she'll be furious with herself. Taking a final mouthful of coffee, she picks up her bag and heads for the door.
*
Nina is already waiting when she arrives, pacing back and forth, stopping when she spots her approaching.
"Mackenzie." Nina nods and there's a half smile on her face, genuine or not she has no idea. "Sorry to drag you out here but I really didn't want to do this over the phone."
"Didn't want to do what over the phone?" she asks, frowning as she waits for whatever Nina is about to tell her. "What is it you think you have on me this time?"
"It's not you," Nina says quickly, stepping closer and nudging her arm slightly as she starts walking. "It's your fiancé. Congratulations, by the way."
"Thank you," she says, sharply. "Shame you couldn't have just written that a couple of weeks ago."
"Come on, Mac, we both know that's not what sells," Nina answers, giving her a smug look.
"What is it, Nina? I don't have long." She looks away, focuses on the path ahead, thinking she'll be better prepared to react to whatever Nina thinks she has on Will if she doesn't have to look at her.
"I know Will was high the night of the Bin Laden broadcast," Nina says, her voice laced with something...triumph, perhaps. "As soon as I find a second source, I'm running it."
"Oh please!" She keeps her voice steady and shakes her head, hoping her expression is hiding the panic she feels creeping up her spine as she looks back at Nina. "He was not high, I don't know who the hell fed you that one, but you need to reconsider your sources, he-"
"He was high, Mac, I know it, so don't waste your breath." Nina pauses, glancing around them briefly before she goes on. "Not that anyone would have known it, it was a great show, it really was. Whatever you did to get him through it...well, I-"
"Like I said, I don't know where you got this from, but it's bullshit," she says, firmly. "You said it yourself, it was a great show that night. Do you really think he could have pulled that off if he was wasted?"
"I think...anyone else, maybe not." Nina shrugs and stops walking, turning to her and lowering her voice slightly. "But Will? With you doing what you do, I think he absolutely could. He's lucky he has a good EP."
"Two Peabody Awards." She suddenly feels irked by Nina's tone, her smug look. "I'd say he has more than a good EP."
"Fine," Nina says with a flick of her hair and a look of irritation crossing her face. "He's lucky he has such an accomplished, competent, thoroughly spectacular EP. Especially on the nights he's so high he probably can't even tie his own shoelaces."
"I really need to get back," she says, affecting an air of calm she hopes looks more convincing than it feels. "You won't find a second source because your first one is shitting you. It's not true."
"Yes, Mackenzie, it is." Nina says, quietly. "And you'd better hope I don't find another source, because if I do, I will be running the story."
Turning, Nina walks away, leaving her standing on the path, her stomach sinking, her chest feeling tight. She doesn't know who Nina's first source is, but she does know that they need to make very certain she doesn't find a second.