Season 4 episode 7 – Morning after - Mac and Riley, Just Roommates

Mac risks opening one cobalt blue eye to the morning light, just peeking through the shutters. He immediately allows it to close again, not ready to wake. Seconds later both fly open, as he hears clamor from the kitchen. Diving out of bed, his brain converts into "MacGyver mode". His eyes flashing around the bedroom, calculating his location versus the intruder and taking inventory of the objects in his bedroom which can be utilized as an offensive weapons. Then he remembers, Riley. Riley had arrived, unanticipated, last night. Aubrey had broken up after the ill-fated episode of their double date. Mac lowers himself to perch on the edge of his bed, runs both hands through his blonde locks, resting his elbows on his knees and to gawp at his feet. He had struggled sleeping last night, his exceedingly analytical brain attempting to process, the events of the evening and his unforeseen responses and reactions.

Mac was a naturally a proficient observer, a skill he had honed well. Among other things, being observant assisted Mac in spying emotional responses, but he was not able to decipher their meaning without thorough contemplation. It frustrated Mac, that throughout his life, this also included the necessity to de-crypt the motives behind his own emotional states. Hence, the reason for his lack of sleep.

He recognized that his botched attempt at a "normal date" with Desi, had only recapped the reasons of their previously break-up. They sucked at being together without the pump of adrenaline through their bodies. He wanted more to the relationship, but it was forced. He loved the pounding excitement but longed for a relationship which also included something… domesticated? "Yeah right, Mac, that's it?!" speaking overtly to himself.

Compartmentalizing that puzzle for later, Mac attempt to understand his next conundrum. During the tragedy, called a date, while observing Riley and Aubrey, Mac noted several visceral reactions in his own body. His had been clenching jaw until his teeth throbbed and there was an extreme tautness in his chest. He initially alleged himself to be envious, that she had found a relationship outside the Phoenix. A prospect he didn't believe probable in his own life. Now his nagging inclination was to identify this response to be unadulterated jealousy. He realized this when he experienced relief, hearing the words from Riley, "Aubrey ended it". Perhaps, during their years together in constant danger, he had developed a protective or possessive attitude towards Riley, which was now unchecked.

Riley has always been one of his best friends. The girl who teased and bantered him into a laugh or the occasion blush, was eagerly vested in his interest of reality tv, and shared an obsession for take out in the wee hours of the morning. She was also his grounding rod, when he panicked getting to in his head, she would remind him with a steady hand on his shoulder "you can do this!".

All this noted, Mac, was not oblivious and he was, well… male. Therefore, he was permanently aware of Riley's attractiveness. She was perfectly proportioned to Mac's assessment. He admitted to himself that had made this assessment on more than one occasion. She was smart, resourceful, determined, occasionally sassy and well just, fun. She was wicked at Ski Ball which was hot to Mac, because it demonstrated her understanding of basic physics, even though she said it was "all in the wrist". He shook his head violently at himself, and muttered "well this is productive... I need to stop thinking of Riley as hot."

Temporarily admitting defeat at cracking the emotional code, Mac stood and padded down the hallway. He glanced towards the kitchen, experiencing a slight choke at the scene before him. Riley's bare feet on his solid wood floor, standing like an exotic bird with one foot appearing to unconsciously scratch the back of smooth calf muscle. His eyes trolled upwards, up the distance of her legs. Mac's analytical brain calculating the length in relation with actual height not wanting to acknowledge that this is seeming inconsistent to his view. His stare reaches to the bottom of camo pajama shorts with hips nestled against the -, a soft grey sweatshirt, over-sized, the open neck shifted to the right exposing the side of her neck, and a slim shoulder. Although her torso was swimming in the sweat shirt, he could imagine her curves beneath. Untamed curls were confided haphazardly in an elastic on the crown of her head. Her fingers were causally wrapped around his favorite mug. One finger, with the latest outrageous nail color, tapping rhythmical against its side, while the other hand lifts the string of a tea bag up and down in an equally rhythmic fashion. The corners of Mac's mouth started to climb up into a smile, as he appreciated the view. Mac's gaze finally moves to her face, and his heart pricks with pain. He saw it, confusion across her beautiful face.

Mac begins with a soft cough and questions, "Searching for equilibrium?" Riley's hazel eyes blink repeatedly, then lock with Mac.

Riley eyes tear swiftly over Mac while he leans himself up against the door jam. Even though it was swift, she logged every detail. He too was in bare feet, dark grey sweat pants hanging low off his hips, a fitted basic white t-shirt which with his carved torso had him looking like a fruit-of-the-loom model. His golden hair ruffled, which she has always preferred, as it gives him the boy next store appearance.

Before he had entered Riley had been mulling over her confused thoughts and feelings. She had been living with Aubrey for 6 months, a significant record for her history with relationships. He had ended it last night after being a first-hand witness to the "other part of her life". Aubrey's question as it was ending, "You really like this life?" had her jumbled, as confusing as her own response "you know what, I love it". She had thought she had been enjoying the normalcy of their relationship yet there she was acknowledging the desire for danger and adventure. She was perplexed that, although saddened, she was not torn apart by the break up.

Then there were these weird, increasing number of moments, she had been experiencing with Mac. Now that Aubrey was well, gone, she did not feel like she was cheating to examine them more thoroughly. She relived them one at a time… The moment after egging dropping a bomb from WW2 off a 6-story building when she noticed very non-platonic feelings rising in her chest as she held Mac's hand. The icky feeling, seeing Mac kiss Desi on the jumbo-o-tron after neutralizing a lethal death chip in her body when she refused to throw a soccer game. And last night, after hacking into bank accounts, in the dark fist fights and the conclusion of her relationship she had sought out Mac. Not for comfort or care but because she had a desire to be near him. Her feelings for Mac were morphing, and she was uncertain if how to navigate or, hell, if she was even okay with it.

Mac leisurely striding towards her, "Your attempting to make tea? He asks, the continues "When tea leaves are added to water, they absorb and become re-hydrated. This absorption of water into tea leaves allows for the initiation of steeping, extracting the soluble compounds from the tea leaves and dissolving them in the water. The steeping process is the difference in concentrations of dissolved compounds. Compounds in the leaves move from an area of high concentration to an area of low concentration until equilibrium is achieved."

A slow smile spreads across Riley's face, but doesn't quiet reach her eyes. "Can I help?" he asks, uncomfortably aware that his voice is almost pleading. "With my tea? Don't actually drink the stuff," she huffs quietly. She looks downward, moves, slightly unsteady, to set the mug on the counter. She is aware that Mac is standing close, smelling like a cabin in the woods, tucked away, quiet, comfortable, safe. She allows her eyes to close, leaning slightly forward, places her forehead against Mac's hard chest. His left eyebrow ticks up in surprise but his response is immediate, winding his arms around Riley's frame. She wiggles to wrap her arms under his and across his muscular back. She acknowledges to herself this is where is needs, wants, desires to be. They are touching, from head to toe. Mac begins to feel warmth, in slow motion, building through his body. The the air around their embrace start to hum like static electricity, softly crackling in his head. Riley squeezes her eyes shut, tighter. Both seem to be holding in breath, Mac pulls back slightly, looking into deep green eyes which are expertly mixed with flecks of brown, trying to decipher… what is this…

He breathlessly questions "Riles?"

"Mac?" slips hesitantly from her mouth.

Somehow, Mac takes a step backwards, deeply regretting this action almost immediately. Focusing hard on pushing aside the thoughts, feelings, his body's response he manages to spit out again, "What can I do?"

Riley lets out another long breath, "Pancakes" she states firmly. Mac gently shakes his head, assuming it is still clouded from moment previous. His facial expression matched his confusion so Riley launches into explanation… "Pancakes is what Jack would make when I was a kid, a confused kid. It always made me feel, well, good, or better, you know? Unfortunately, I can't cook worth crap, so…

Mac interrupted, "well pancakes is actually baking not cooking, and something I happen to be pretty good at," He says with a slight smirk in his tone.

"I shouldn't be surprised, but I never pictured you as Betty Crocker Mac."

"Well its really basic chemistry" he comments. Mac switches into gear, moving around the kitchen like it's a junk yard, jail cell or some other place they have been in which he has a crazy need to build a machine to get them the hell out of a mess.

He grabs flour, sugar, baking powder, soda, then in the fridge pulls out milk eggs and butter. Riley as enjoys watching his hands move with confidence and precision. She has observed these hands during op briefing expertly manipulating paperclips, and steadily disarm grenades, booms or rockets which are threatening to blow them to pieces. An image flies forward, of those hands expertly on her body… "Shit!" comes out in a muted volume. Mac doesn't hear. "Get a grip!", she berates to herself internally.

Mac continues assembling ingredients on the counter. "Baking is relaxing… and predictable. After all the improvising and crazy plans, it's just…" He doesn't need to finish the sentence, Riley is already nodding in agreement with an understanding smile.

Mac looks around the kitchen, mutters to himself about needing a bowel. Recalling it to be below, in the cupboard Riley leans against. He skillfully begins to move Riley aside by placing his hands on either side of her hips. He is astutely aware he chose this action on purpose. It a basic experiment, to attempt to determine if the previous reactions can be replicated. He is intrigued to see Riley's eyes widen and pupils dilate. She is embarrassed to feel the rising heat of a blush dancing across her cheeks. She nervously catches her bottom lip between her teeth which draws, Mac's attention downwards. Gazing intently at her perfect mouth his hands voluntarily tighten their grip. Then he releases his hold.

He crouches down, grabs the bowl from the below cupboard and turns to begin measuring, steadying himself in some basic mathematics. In addition, he begins documenting and categorizing his observations of his experiment, until Riley moves to stand next to him, close. He finishes adding ingredients, "Your up Riles!", Mac expends a wood spoon in her direction with a boyish grin on his face, Riley grabs spoon with a "I got this smile" and begins vigorously mixing the batter.

"You keep that up and they are going to be flat… flat as pancakes", Mac snickers as his own joke. Riley rolls her eyes and offers him half a laugh.

Mac launches forward in explanation, "flour is full of gluten molecules which typically are immobile. When flour is moistened with water, milk or eggs the gluten molecules become active, elastic and spring like, they stretch out and begin to rearrange. Further mixing allows the end of the gluten proteins to connect with others. The more mixing the tighter and tighter web-like network and are able to trap bubbles. But if you over-mix…"

Mac confidently reaches around Riley to the hand in which she is holding the wooden spoon, casing hers in his own "you create too tough a gluten network, there is less space for the air pockets, we get flat instead of fluffy pancakes".

Their hands slow together, into an easy steady pace. Mac moves his free hand to rest on the counter top, enclosing Riley possessively in front of him. He inhales slightly on the exposed side of Riley's neck and shoulder. Wondering immediately if he had already added cinnamon and nutmeg to the pancakes? He realizes that the hypnotic scent is Riley, robust and a little spicy. Their mixing motion slows to a dead stop. Mac steps forward, as if he is drawn to a magnet, his chest becomes flush against Riley's back. She leans into him. The previous warmth he had experienced immediately becomes combustible and fire is ignited. Blood begins thrusting rapidly through his body, the crackling sounds are thundering in his head. He lifts arm to embrace the expanse of her mid-drift and spreads his fingers wide to cover the area. Riley's breath intakes sharply and he can feel it ripple down her toned abdomen. Riley lets her head fall back on Mac's sturdy shoulder and eyes feather close. Longing to breath her in fully, Mac allows his eyes to drift close and dips his head toward her tanned shoulder. The word "Damn" rushes audibly from Riley's lips, dripping with desire.

The Mac and Riley hear a distinct voice, "Hey yeah Mac buddy, Boze is in the house." Mac and Riley fly from each other like experiencing the heat of scored earth, taking postures at opposite ends of the kitchen, as Bozer strolls in.