SECOND MACGYVER FIC!
...Please don't kill me! hides
His brown eyes were glazed, and unfocused; there was a drunken wave in his hands, the type of the truly plastered. Those hands ran through honey blonde hair.
MacGyver sighed. "This won't help us, will it?"
Murdoc shook his head in a silent, "No," and opened another beer.
Because Murdoc knew that just because they were actually in the same room with each other and hadn't blown it up wouldn't mean anything tomorrow.
He knew that just because they hadn't killed each other wouldn't mean anything tomorrow.
He knew that the two of them getting drunk together wouldn't mean anything tomorrow.
Because tomorrow was tomorrow, and this is today. And today, they are sitting together, getting drunk, and being almost-friends. And today, they can both pretend that they just met, and that they don't really know each other, and that they aren't enemies.
Today they can pretend. Even if just for a little while.