That brown, beat-up jacket is Becky's most favorite thing from his closet.
Pulling it off the hanger, she caresses the soft, scarred leather and inhales the familiar combination of scents that always remind her of MacGyver: the smell of the leather, a touch of honest sweat, a faint hint of pine from camping trips, maybe the odd whiff of some chemical he'd used at one point... They are smells that speak to her of warmth and safety, of being protected, cared for and loved.
She feels she needs that sense of security tonight. Pete said the assignment had been a rough one, and Mac needs to stay a couple days in the hospital. Nothing major; just for observation, according to the doctor. He'd be home day after tomorrow when she gets back from school.
Becky wraps the jacket around herself like one of his warm hugs and curls up in the comfortable armchair to watch TV. She wishes it were Mac cuddling with her on the couch, his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest, but has to make do with this substitution instead.
Sighing deeply, she brings a sleeve close to her cheek and closes her eyes.