MacGyver Imagines

"Andante, Andante"

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you all are staying well! This next one comes from a request by Angelica_Cali_1990 Thank you so much for the request! I made it kinda cute and flirty, so I hope you like it! Also, I think its message shines some positivity during these uncertain times. Much love to all of you! 💛
Song: "Andante, Andante" by ABBA (or Lily James, if you've seen "Mama Mia: Here We Go Again")
Rating: Some mature content

***

"Look, Mr. Hill. If this is going to work, I'm going to need you to tell me the truth. All of it. I can't help you if you lie to me." Pushing up your reading glasses, you stare intently at the man in front of you. 

He looks back with an obnoxious, suggestive smirk. "I can think of a few ways you could help me, if you know what I mean."

Nearly vomiting internally, you roll your eyes, tapping your pen on the ornate wooden desk. It takes all of your internal strength not to grab this guy by the throat and pin him to the floor until he begs for mercy.

Since the Phoenix Foundation was shut down, you all were forced to find alternative career paths. Since you had started your law degree before joining the team, you decided it was time to finally finish that degree. 

So, now you're a defense lawyer. And, honestly, right in this moment, you're regretting it.  That's because you have never met a more sexist, rude, narcissistic client than the one sitting in front of you.

After about twenty more minutes of trying to talk to him, you feel as if you're about to crawl out of your skin.

"Maybe when all of this is over, you and I can celebrate privately," he suggests, completely ignoring your questions.

You watch as his eyes size you up, and you catch his gaze staring a little too low.

You clear your throat. "If you're serious about this, I'm going to need you to focus on why you're here."

Ugh, this is the day from hell, you think to yourself.

***

Later, after possibly the longest day of your life, it's finally time to go home.

It's late in the evening when you walk through the threshold and slam the door shut, throwing off your shoes and making a beeline straight for the kitchen.

You bypass Mac on the way, who is sitting on the couch, not even acknowledging his existence.

Pulling out a glass and a bottle of wine, you pour an extremely generous amount. Mac moves over to the you from his spot on the couch.

"Rough day?" he asks timidly. He knows better than to say too much when you've been upset or angry about something.

"Oh, you don't even know the half of it," you insist, downing at least half of your glass in one gulp.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You think about it, but you decide that's the last thing you want to do. Just the thought of that sorry excuse for a human being makes you want to cringe. "I'd rather not."

"Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze. Take your time, make it slow. Andante, andante, just let the feeling grow."

Mac walks over to you, putting his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. "How can I help?"

You smile and lean into him. "Just by doing that."