This is just pure, unabashed fluff. Sorry I'm not sorry.


Mac's asleep before they even leave the runway, her head resting on Will's shoulder, her breathing even.

Their team had cheered when they announced that they were leaving for a honeymoon and would be back in two weeks, and no one was to contact them for any reason. Don had even wolf-whistled, and Mac had blushed a deep crimson, but couldn't keep the grin off her face.

When the show ended, Will had practically sprinted from the desk, ripping off his tie and jacket as he went. He changed in record time, grabbing his bag and then going to collect his wife from her office. She had been standing in front of the bag that he had packed for her, marveling that he managed to get it right.

"I don't think you've forgotten anything," she told him.

"I've done this before," he grinned at her. She suddenly remembered the surprise trip to Belize, and her smile deepened. If this trip was anything like that trip, then she was really looking forward to the next couple of weeks. She moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a long kiss. He buried his hands in her hair, and the only thing that made him pull back was when he remembered the time crunch they were under to get to the airport on time.


He had breathed out a sigh of relief when the plane took off, brushing a kiss to Mackenzie's hairline and relaxing into the leather seat for the long flight. He knew that she was exhausted, and he was happy to let her sleep as long as she could. He pulled out a book and spent the flight catching up on reading.

Mackenzie barely stirs until they land hours later, blinking up at Will and looking adorable and rumpled.

"I slept the entire flight?" She asks, surprised.

"You did," Will confirms, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "I think you needed it."

"I needed this vacation too," she tells him, reaching up and kissing the underside of his jaw. "So thank you." And God, did she. Before Vegas she was operating on coffee and naps, and she was starting to feel it. She had taken Sloan up on the offer for a girls' weekend partly because she had desperately needed to get out of the city for a little while.

Mackenzie isn't sure what to expect, but she's still blown away by what Will has planned. After a short flight from Athens to Mykonos, they arrive at the villa that Will has rented, and it's so beautiful that for a moment she's breathless. She's been many places, and seen so many incredible sights, but she's not immune to any of it, and for that she's grateful. She squeezes Will's hand as the driver carries in their bags, and he responds by dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

Once Will has tipped the driver, and the driver is gone, Mac squeals and throws herself at her husband, who, though startled, manages to catch her.

"I take it this is acceptable?" He teases, and she hums against his lips, kissing him senseless instead of replying.

When she finally pulls back, breathless and lips swollen, she takes the opportunity to explore their villa with incredible views of the Aegean.

"It's paradise," she murmurs, standing on the balcony and feeling Will come up behind her and slide his arms around her waist.

"I asked for the most private villa they had," Will confesses. "It's a little big, but…" It was a little too big for just the two of them, but Mac appreciated the privacy.

"We'll just have to make sure we christen each and every bedroom," Mac grins, leaning back against him. "Twice." She feels Will's laughter, as he drops his head and buries it in the side of her neck.

"I'm one hundred percent on board with that idea," he assures her. "One hundred percent."


Mac wakes up before Will, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The door to the balcony off the master bedroom is open, and the sound and smell of the sea waft in, and she's so damn content that she burrows down deeper in the covers and sighs.

The villa came with a private chef, who had cooked them dinner and left a quiche that just needed to be popped in the oven for breakfast, and they had eaten out on their private patio overlooking the sea the night before, popping champagne and toasting to years of promised happiness.

After the chef and his staff had cleaned up and left, Mac suggested trying out their private pool, and Will had quickly agreed, shedding his clothes and diving into the salt-water pool.

It had been, in a word, perfect, and the next two weeks stretched out before her looking just as wonderful and fulfilling.

She was never going to want to go home, she knew it already. The second of their weeks was going to be spent on the coast of Croatia, and she had a feeling that Will probably, once again, has outdone himself.

She feels Will wake next to her, and she rolls over to kiss him, morning breath be damned.

"Good morning," he murmurs. "What should we do today?" And she replies by sliding her hands down his back and pulling him close for a kiss.

"I was thinking a little of that," she says with a sly smile.

"Sounds fine to me," he answers. "Let me just throw breakfast in the oven. You stay here." He drops a kiss to her bare shoulder, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pausing in the doorway to drink in the image of her, stretched out on the massive bed, and waves a finger at her, "Seriously. Don't move. Not a muscle, Mac," before slipping out the door.

"We could skip breakfast," she calls, and he pokes his head back in for a moment.

"No, no way, you need to have energy for the things I plan for us today," he insists, disappearing back down the hall.


He catches her watching the news when he steps out of the shower. Mac scrambles for the remote to turn off the television, but she's not fast enough.

"I saw that," he tells her, coming into the bedroom.

"I can't help it, I needed to see what was happening, and since you took away my phone," she starts.

"For good reason," he cuts in. "It's supposed to be just me and you. No distractions."

"Not knowing what's going on is distracting," she mutters, and he takes the remote from her hand and with a smile, turns back on the news, kissing the top of her head as he changes his clothes. She smiles back, watching a few minutes before changing herself into a bathing suit, pulling a sundress over top.

Will had arranged for a yacht tour on the sea that afternoon, and as they were leaving the villa, he pulled out a floppy hat that he had bought for her, dropping it on her head with a grin.

"You really did think of everything," Mac marvels once again. Will doesn't say anything, just extends his hand which she takes happily, as he tugs her towards the waiting car.


Greece is wonderful and relaxing, the yacht tour is romantic and private, Mac becoming slightly drunk on the champagne provided for them, and they spend the rest of the evening holed up in their villa, making good use of the many bedrooms and the Jacuzzi tub in the master suite.

The rest of that first week flies by.

They drink too much, and eat too much, and spend hours every day making love to the sounds of the sea lapping against the shore.

Mac is so full of happiness that she thinks she might actually explode. She touches the smile that hasn't left her face all week, and thinks that this is really her life. She's married to Will. She's married to Will.

She reminds herself to bring something amazing back for Sloan to thank her for dragging her to Vegas in the first place.

She catches Will sometimes with a look of disbelief on his face, one that she's sure mirrors her own, and when she spots it, she reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze to reassure both of them that it's real.


They catch a short flight to Dubrovnik, and the hotel suite that Will booked them for the week is just as beautiful as the villa in Mykonos had been.

They do a little more sightseeing in Croatia, pulling themselves away from bed for longer stretches of time, but staying later in the night to make up for lost time and reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies. Will spends night after night mapping the contours and planes of Mackenzie's body, promising himself that he'll do everything in his power to make sure she never goes anywhere without him again.

She was right, and when the night before their flight home rolls around, she doesn't want to leave. She's missed everyone, and even missed the chaos of the newsroom, but she loved their time away. She was only too aware of what they were returning to.

"I hope the interest in our marriage has died down," she tells Will as they eat dinner their last night, tucked away in a tiny restaurant, candles on the table and a bottle of wine nearly drained.

"It probably hasn't," Will replies, shrugging. The paparazzi has never bothered him; he doesn't give a damn what they write about him, but Mackenzie is off limits. Their marriage is off limits. It bothers him that it bothers her.

"That's optimistic," Mac mutters, reaching over and stealing a bite of his fish. "Can't we stay here forever?"

"We could, sure," Will answers. "We could just eat and drink and live on the sea. Maybe I could be a fisherman. I could do that."

"You liar, you'd miss the news too much," Mac smiles.

"So would you," he points out.

"So would I," she acknowledges. "But I have enjoyed these weeks."

"You and me both, sweetheart," he picks up her hand and brushes a kiss along her knuckles. "But let's not talk about that. Let's enjoy our last night. We'll have plenty of time to worry about what we're coming home to on the flight tomorrow."

And Mac is too full of good food, and wine, and far too happy, to let herself really worry about what they were coming home to.

After all, they were coming home to it together, and that made all the difference.


When they land in New York, Mac lets out a sigh.

"We're home," he says, grabbing her hand as the plane pulls up to the gate.

"Yes," she says, giving his hand a squeeze and dropping her head to his shoulder for a moment. "We're home."