AN: Fluff. Both figurative and literal, as you'll see! This really won't make any sense if you haven't read The Path Not Taken's latest episode/chapter.
A touch early, as I've had a tough couple of days and figured sharing some fluff might make me feel better!
QUEEN VICTORIA MARKET
MELBOURNE
AUSTRALIA
As Jack posed in front of a slightly-smudged mirror provided by the proprietor of the leather goods stand, constantly adjusting a Crocodile Dundee-style Akubra hat, watched by Cage, who had her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched, a teasing little smile on her face, and Bozer held up an array of leather jackets to his rather long-suffering, but obliging and chuckling best friend's torso with great enthusiasm, Riley's eyes were caught by a sturdy brown leather belt with a subtle but intricate pattern worked on it. The design was simple but beautiful, full of circles and swirls, and called to mind Australian Indigenous art.
She picked it up, rubbing the leather gently between her fingers.
Billy would love this.
He was the romantic one in their relationship.
(He sent her flowers sometimes, just because, because he'd been raised right by his mama to show a woman proper appreciation and respect. He sent her trinkets that he'd picked up on his jobs, things that he'd seen and thought of her – an awesome necklace of metal beads, a silky, vibrantly-printed robe, a leather and macramé keychain that was somehow edgy, a seriously awesome motherboard…)
But that didn't mean she couldn't do some romance too.
(Even Mac, a little socially awkward and with an unfortunate tendency to put his foot in it despite his best efforts – she was never going to let him forget Shanghai when he'd somehow made things worse between her and Jack while trying to make it better – could do romance, albeit old-fashioned romance-novel-style with a touch of MacGyver weirdness sprinkled in.)
(That was probably the product of being raised by a combination of the world's most unromantic man – seriously, Riley was positive that James MacGyver didn't have a romantic bone in his body, as much as it was clear that he'd really loved Mac's mom…somehow – and his grandfather, whom all accounts suggested was an old-fashioned gentleman-type.)
She held out a $50 note to the leather goods seller.
Jack held up the elegant, simple opal necklace, watching the small stone catch the light, shining in greys and silvers and greens and blues.
He nodded in satisfaction, and Riley pulled her gaze away from where Bozer was doing the salesman's job for him and trying to talk his BFF into buying an opal necklace (Cage – who was watching in amusement and occasionally chipping in with some light teasing – would rescue Mac if he really needed it), smiling up at Jack.
'Mom will love it.'
Jack reached out and pulled her into a side-hug with a grin.
For some reason, Australians considered sheepskin cushion covers in the shape of various Australian animals (a local species of penguin, koalas and of course, sheep – there were far more sheep than people in the country, so Mac figured they counted, like longhorns were associated with Texas) to be acceptable and even popular souvenirs.
He found his eye caught by some adorable-looking two-toned sheep (they had white woolly bodies and black tails and faces complete with an eye) cushion covers.
'Buy one. She'll love it.'
He quirked an eyebrow at Cage (if it were anyone else, he'd say something along the lines of you've never even met her, but she was Cage), smiling sheepishly at the same time.
(It probably looked weird.)
He reached out and started inspecting the various sheep.
ONE WEEK LATER
BOZER'S CAR
ON-ROUTE TO MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
Mac's phone chimed as he stared out the window at the city lights in the dark as Bozer drove him home.
(He and Jack had just gotten home from a very tough mission in Somalia, where they'd been sent to seize or destroy a WMD that a Somali warlord had somehow gotten his hands on.)
(They'd taken an unauthorized detour to liberate a camp of child soldiers, which had tacked a couple of hours onto debrief, a trade-off he'd take any day.)
On autopilot and still haunted by the horrifying image of kids with empty eyes holding very battered AK-47s, Mac pulled his phone out and looked at the text from Beth on the screen. A small smile appeared on his face, which slowly grew wider.
Her shift had finished while he was stuck in debrief, and it seemed that she was now enjoying her quiet Tuesday night.
She'd sent him a selfie, in a light blue T-shirt with her hair in twin loose braids and grinning at the camera. She was hugging her brand-new sheep cushion to her chest with her free hand, the sheep's head poking out under her chin and its body obscuring the text on her shirt (he could just make out 'atoms' and 'everything').
There was another chime, and then another photo followed the first.
This one was of the cushion in her lap, over her pink-chequered pyjama pants, her baby-blue painted toenails just visible over the top of the fluffy mound.
(It really was excessively fluffy, but she seemed to like it that way.)
Thanks again, Mac. It's perfect for cuddling with after a long day!
His smile widened.
(A little voice in his head pointed out that he could provide her with something – or rather, someone - much more pleasant to cuddle with than a stuffed sheep. Mac told it to shut up and pointed out that even if he could and would cuddle back and could and would give back-rubs, he was not fluffy – the less said about his one attempt to grow a beard, the better - and rather bad at staying still, so that assertion really depended on her criteria for preferred cuddling partners.)
After a moment, Mac started typing out a reply.
I'm really glad you like it. Has he or she got a name? :P
He got her reply only moments later, as Bozer pulled up at a red light.
Pythagoras! Or Py, for short.
He laughed out loud.
Of course Beth would name her sheep cushion cover Pythagoras, Py for short.
Her feelings towards pie (and pi, it was her favourite irrational number) were well-known.
(He didn't hate her puns anywhere near as much as he hated Jack's.)
(They were usually better.)
(Jack's were objectively terrible, after all.)
(And they usually had to do with science. Science made everything better.)
(Besides, if he were honest…he didn't actually hate Jack's puns, just like he didn't actually hate Jack's complaining…)
Bozer, meanwhile, glanced at his BFF, looking all besotted in his book, and grinned.
He couldn't wait to be Uncle Bozer.
AN: Of course, as always, Bozer jumps more than a little too far ahead…but how often has he been wrong? :P
All the items mentioned as being sold at the Queen Victoria Market are all things that I have seen be sold at the aforementioned market; we really do have some odd souvenirs for sale here…
And yes, I had to put in a little dig at Mac's beard in 3.01, Improvise. The Path Not Taken isn't just AU plot-wise; Mac can't grow an atrocious beard, he can't grow one at all! :P