MacGyver Imagines

"First Man"

A/N: Hey guys! Alright, so first of all, misssarahholland kindly asked for a second part to my story "Gettin' in the Way." Also, I was inspired by episode 5X05 (You know I just couldn't resist). So, I decided to use that inspiration to write the second part. I hope you like it!
⚠️ Spoiler alert: This story contains potential spoilers from episode 5X05, so if you haven't seen it/don't want spoilers, please DON'T read!
Song: "First Man" by Camilla Cabello
Rating: Everyone

***15 years ago***

Jack Dalton stands on the front porch, willing himself to move toward the door. You watch through the window from inside, staring, as he wipes his sweaty hands on the front of his pants and finally gains the courage to ring the bell. You throw your homework to the side, pausing your iPod and pulling out one earbud. You stick the device in your jeans pocket.

Opening the door, you stare with a passive façade at the strange man. With your arms folded in front of you, silence settles in between you.

Jack's nervous expression lightens. "Hey."

You stare at him, still quiet.

Finally, you decide you've made the moment uncomfortable enough. "You're my mom's date?"

"Uh, yep. That's me. I'm Jack," he holds out a hand graciously. But, you don't move to reciprocate the gesture.

Instead you tell him plainly, "You know, a lot of dates have come and gone in the past ten years. Don't think you're anything special."

He glances around awkwardly in no particular direction. "Okaaay." After another intensely strange moment, he must notice the earbud still in your ear. "Listening to anything good?"

Your eyes narrow in irritation. "First of all, we're not going to be friends. Second, I'm not a fan of small talk."

"Alright," he submits. "I just wondered if you had decent taste in music."

You roll your eyes. With a huff, you turn back toward the couch. But, as you do, you answer under your breath, "The Rolling Stones."

"The Stones, huh?" he wonders, amused. "Well, wouldn't you know."

"What? A thirteen-year-old can't like The Rolling Stones?"

"No. It's not that. You do have great taste. My suspicion was right. I actually have a Rolling Stones t-shirt from a concert I went to a long time ago."

You consider the man in front of you for another long moment but deflect as you notice the half-wilted flowers in his hand. "Are those flowers from my mom's flower bed?"

He studies them and frowns. "You won't tell, will you? It'll be our little secret," he pleads in a smooth, southern twang.

You think about his plea, and grin with a fantastic but despicable idea. "Fine. But, you'll owe me."

"Bargaining at thirteen. Alright, I'll bite. What do you want?"

"Well," you glance back at the staircase, ensuring your mom isn't anywhere close by. "There's this movie in theaters that my mom won't let me go see. Take me to see it."

"If your mom says no, then I don't think it's a good idea."

"Do you want my mom to find out about the flowers?" you ask, raising your eyebrows as he weighs his options.

He grins, beginning to realize he's met his match when it comes to negotiation. "You've got yourself a deal."

***Two years later***