MacGyver Imagines

"I Won't Tell a Soul"

A/N: I've got another one for ya! This one's inspired by Charlie Puth's "I Won't Tell a Soul." There's just something about the song that I love, and it inspired me. If you haven't heard it, give it a listen above. And, as always, I hope you enjoy the story! Happy reading! :)
Rating: Everyone

***

You're sitting in the debriefing room, finishing up some paperwork that had been gradually collecting from your past few missions. You glance at your watch: 8PM.

Oh man. I did it again. It has become something of a habit for you - staying late at work. You know you should leave at a decent hour, and to your dismay, your fiancé constantly reminds you of that. The truth is though, that you don't really want to go home, and that's what bothers you the most. You're a newly-engaged woman who should want to go home to her soon-to-be husband, but you can't help but think that there is just something missing. You know you'd be going home to another lecture about how you work too much, and how he can't imagine why a person who works at a think tank would have to put in so much over-time. Oh yeah, that's the other thing. You can't tell him about your real job - the one where you chase around high-profile criminals everyday.

You and he started out as high school sweethearts, and a relationship just bloomed from there. As time went by, your relationship started to change, but that happens with any couple who has been together for a long time, right? Maybe he just didn't understand you the way you hoped, but you figured that was partially your own fault because you could never tell him what you actually do for a living. Besides, you've been together for so long that marriage seems like the next logical step. So, he proposed, and you said yes. Your parents were thrilled because both your families have been long-time friends. It was practical.

You sigh as you sign another document on the seemingly-never-ending pile in front of you. You're just about to quit for the night when you see a figure in your periphery standing in the doorway.

"Y/N? You're still here?" a male voice asks.

You turn and notice it's Mac, one of your fellow agents and good friends. "Mac, uh yeah you caught me. I thought everyone else went home hours ago," you reply.

"Yeah, everyone else did. I was just finishing up some reflection forms," he answers.

"Oh, well me too," you admit, holding up a stack of papers. "I should probably get going though," you say, standing to grab your bag.

"Leave someone waiting again?" Mac asks while leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

"Excuse me?" You retort turning to face him.

"Sorry," Mac raises his hands in defense. "I just meant that I've noticed this isn't the first late night that you've pulled in the past few weeks. I didn't mean to imply anything."

You sense sincerity in his voice with that last comment.

"That's okay. You don't have to apologize," you reassure. "Work's just been crazy lately," you say, not wanting to admit his speculation is actually completely right.

You advert your eyes from Mac's intense glare. It's almost as if he knows what's going through your mind, the doubts you're feeling, and the uncertainty in the pit of your stomach. It doesn't help that this is Mac you're talking to. He's become a sort of confidant for you. You have found yourself opening up to him on several occasions. Nevertheless, it doesn't seem right discussing your love life with him, even though your relationship is simply platonic. You're nothing but colleagues and friends.