Summary: Small snippet of a story, with no background context. Literally just self-indulgent fluff.
I was going to call this "The Winds of Change," but came to my senses. I'm finding myself increasingly happy that I have a backlog of stuff already written and just in need of a bit of editing before posting.
I've been writing in the present tense a lot lately?
Does anybody prefer it to the past tense or?
Jack and MacGyver make their way across the plain, following the man in front. They're walking back to the extraction point from a mission, and they're relieved to be heading home. Jack glances back every so often to ensure that his companion is still behind him. The twenty-year-old is slight, and the winds blowing over the flat plain arere strong.
After a moment, Jack realizes that the winds were picking up even more. He turns just in time to see his friend sent staggering several steps to the side, and has to stifle a chuckle at the sight. The blond's wearing a resigned expression, his mouth set in a firm line as he struggles back on track. Jack begins to walk back towards the younger man, calling over his shoulder loudly to the third agent that was assigned to the mission with them, "Hey, Artie, hold up a second!"
Artie Edwards, a huge African American man that's even broader and more muscular than Jack, stops in his tracks. He watches in amusement as Jack grabs his friend's collar and helps him make his way to where Edwards is standing.
When the two come to a stop beside Edwards, Jack says over the wind, "It's picking up. How far are we from the cabin?"
Edwards glances at the map he holds firmly in his hands. "A mile or so."
Jack grins. "We can make that. Just gotta make sure Mac here doesn't get blown away before then."
MacGyver scowls up at his two fellow agents. He opens his mouth to retort when a particularly fierce gust of wind hits him just right to blow the younger man into Jack's chest.
The kid pushes away from the broad chest, embarrassment turning his skin strawberry red. He ignores the rumble of laughter he had felt building in Jack's chest, saying instead, "Whatever. Let's just get going."
Artie shrugs, hiding a smile of his own as he turns away. "Sure thing."
He leads the way again, and Jack goes last this time, making sure that the youngest of their group is in arm's reach. He might've been joking about the kid being blown away at first, but it's rapidly becoming a real concern.
At least there isn't a storm nearby, or they might've had to worry about tornados.
The group's sighted the cabin and are about half a mile away when it happens. A huge gust of wind, strong enough to send even Edwards staggering a bit, literally knocks MacGyver over.
He ends up flat on his back, strands of blond hair being tugged by the wind. Jack makes his way over to the kid, followed closely by Artie. The larger agent tugs the smaller man up, set him on his feet, and then proceeds to sling an arm around him.
MacGyver squawks in indignation, preparing to protest before he's cut off by Jack, who slides into the blond's other side, blocking him a bit from the wind there too. "Don't even think about it, buddy. You were literally blown away."
MacGyver shuts up with an embarrassed expression plastered on his face.
The three make their way to the cabin without any more mishaps, but it's a close call. When they enter the house, it's creaking in a way that makes all of them nervous, so they go to the cellar that's been installed in the house for purposes such as tornadoes and windstorms.
They sit in the cellar for hours, making small talk as they wait for the wind storm to blow over.
Eventually, Jack looks up from the card game he and Artie are playing. The youngest of their group had found a puzzle and had been working on it, and Jack searches for him. When he sees MacGyver, a small lump of blue blanket with a shock of blond hair peeking over the top, on the couch, he lets out a small chuckle. Artie follows the other man's gaze, and lets out a rumble of amusement, the warm sound coming from deep in his chest.
The three spend the night in the cellar, letting the windstorm blow over. It's quiet, and warm, and filled with a sense of camaraderie.
When MacGyver wakes in the night, he sees his friends stretched out on the floor with bedding they had found in the closet. He smiles, and closes his eyes again.