Disclaimer: I do not own The Newsroom or its characters and I won't be making any money off this (trust me).
A/N: What would happen if Will and Mac's late night phone conversation from 2x01 had resulted in him asking her to come over? This is one possible take on how the evening would play out.
Apologies in advance- the ending provides a truckload of cheese to go with your Mac.
Will's intercom buzzes, alerting him to MacKenzie's arrival. He drains the last of his drink and swings his feet down off the balcony railing and onto the smooth tiles. Padding inside he presses the intercom button and tells the doorman to let Mac in. He walks over and opens his front door before padding into the kitchen to get another drink.
MacKenzie fidgets with her coat anadjusts her handbag as rides the elevator up, walking to Will's open door when theelevator arrives on his floor. "Billy?" she calls out, stepping inside.
"In the kitchen!" he calls back, getting out a second glass.
"You really shouldn't have that door open," she tells him. "What would Lonny say?" Mac rests a tupperware container on the granite bench-top and takes the drink he offers her.
"Lonny-schmonny. I've said it before, no one who's serious about killing you sends you a heads up to warn you before they do it."
"Will, I've lost count of how many death threats you've received lately!" Mac exclaims. "If even 1% of those are real, that's enough to end up with you in a body bag. You're meant to report the news, not be the news."
"You really think they'd make a thing of it?" he asks, pulling the lid of Mac's container up at the corner and peering in curiously. "TMI would have a field day with something like that, I suppose. With the crap I'm wading through at the moment there'd be more conspiracy theories than JFK."
"Let's not get carried away," Mac smiles as she swirls the ice in the bottom of her scotch glass. "They're for you. I thought they might help you sleep."
"Milk and cookies?" Will asks as he takes the lid off completely.
"They might be...special," Mac says tentatively, picking one up and sniffing it before placing it back in the container.
"You baked to get me baked?"
"No," Mac frowns at him. "I know a guy."
"You know a guy?" Will asks skeptically.
"Yeah. I know guys. Plenty of guys."
"You got them from Neal's girlfriend, didn't you?"
"No," Mac protests before pouting. "Okay, maybe yes. But that doesn't mean I don't know a guy," she says indignantly.
Will chuckles and picks up a cookie, sniffing it then breaking it in half and offering the smaller of the two pieces to Mac, who shakes her head to decline it. Shrugging, will eats both halves and goes in for a second cookie before replacing the lid.
"Tell me," he says as he takes the scotch bottle and his glass into the living room and sits down, pressing play on the new remote he'd bought for his stereo. "Why is it that Mackenzie McHale can't sleep?"
Mac follows will and settles on the couch, sipping her scotch. "Big day, I guess."
"Take your shoes off and pull up a blanket," Will suggests, gesturing to the throw on the back of his sofa.
Mac takes it and wraps the blanket around herself, her hands strategically placed in openings so she can hold her glass. She knows the real reason she can't sleep; she's worried. Worried about the court case, worried about Will. Worried her waiting was in vain and Will won't ever forgive her and she will never get him back and have a chance at the life they should have had together.
Will sits quietly, not wanting to disturb Mac's peace. He rests one ankle on the opposite knee and rests his scotch in his lap as he watches her face, taking in the way it has changed over the last few years, the toll that two years in a war zone and their complicated relationship had taken on her. Her hair is shorter now; out of practicality, he suspects, knowing what it's like to cover the sorts of stories she did and be constantly on the move. She looks tired, older. Crows feet are starting to take up residence on her face, but he doesn't think they do anything to spoil her beauty.
Mac stares at Will's stereo, watching the hypnotic movement of the light up bars of the equalizer as they dance along with the music. When she eventually snaps out of it she looks around and notices that Will is no longer there. She sets her glass down and wonders how long she had been sitting there before getting up to look for him. "Billy?" she calls out as she moves through his apartment, eventually finding him on the balcony, staring up at the sky.
"I never realized there are so many stars," he says, mesmerised.
"You're high," Mac reminds him, stepping out onto the balcony and standing next to him.
"I do have a tendency to over-indulge when it comes to that sort of thing," he grins, staring up at the sky and losing his balance a little.
"Woah..." Mac says, stepping in to steady him. She wraps her arms around his body and her breath hitches when he steadies and looks down at her, their eyes meeting and their mouths so close she can feel his breath dancing across her lips. They freeze there, neither of them moving. This could be it.
Time passes. Exactly how long, Mac isn't sure. He is close. So close. He could easily close the gap between them. So could she. They both inch forward very, very slowly. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she can feel the warmth of his chest against hers and the gentle hold he has on her, his strong fingers curled around her waist. Is this going to happen? It's going to happen!
"I should go," she says quickly, pulling away and taking a step back. She can't do this. Not now, with him high and her heart so heavily invested in having something meaningful with him. She hurries back inside, tripping slightly on the little step between outside and in, and hastily grabs her things, her heart still pounding in her chest. She slips out the door before he can process what is happening. She presses the button for the elevator and then, fearing he may come after her, thinks better of it and decides to take the stairs. She doesn't know if she could resist if he came after her.
A few minutes later she is standing on the sidewalk outside his apartment building, looking up at his balcony. She tilts her head a little further back to see the sky. There really are a lot of stars tonight, she observes. She stays where she is for a few minutes, hoping for a shooting star. Maybe she can make a wish that sometime soon Will's arms will be around her again, and their lips will touch. This time without the encouragement of medical marijuana and god knows how much scotch. Eventually she gives up, rolling her neck when she looks down again to loosen the strained muscles there.
She glances up once more, just in time to see the lights in his apartment go off. "G'night, Billy," she says softly, adjusting the strap on her handbag and walking off alone into the night. Their time will come; it's written in the stars.
(A/N 2: cookies for anyone who spotted the reference to another of my favourite shows)