by Jennie
ac was bored. Bored, bored, bored! Not only was this a state he seldom found himself in, to feel this way now was... confusing. To say the least.
The prospect of an entire week off had filled his head with all kinds of fun-filled plans. Despite the fact that he couldn't spend the time having a great time in some exotic, far away, sun-soaked paradise. Who knew that the Director would offer this unexpected boon only one week after he'd depleted his bank account buying himself a new, state-of-the-art entertainment system. CD player, widescreen television, VCR—with Dolby Surround Sound. The racy new paint job on his car looked great, though, if he did say so himself.
No problem, he'd decided cheerfully. A week of partying in Toronto's bars, getting laid, and catching up on sleep would entertain him. Or so he'd thought. For reasons he couldn't fathom, the women at the five clubs he'd visited on his first two nights of freedom had... well, bored him. As had the men in the three gay bars he'd hit on the next night.
And, really, three days of wallowing in bed until mid-afternoon had been enough. Dammit, he was bored with that too.
LiAnn had, naturally enough, had more than enough money socked away to pay for a trip to Bali. And Vic... his practical and boring partner had announced, in his practical and boring way, that he planned to spend his time building shelves. Shelves for his pantry, shelves for his storage unit, shelves for his book collection. Then he was going to work on his truck, utilizing the workbench he planned to build in his storage unit. If that wasn't bad enough, a really exciting, three day camping and fishing trip would round off his vacation.
Jesus!
Mac actually found himself thinking, in his desperation, that the trip to some disgustingly picturesque wilderness might not be too ba—
No! No, and no, and no!
And, oh yeah, NO.
Then again, some evil, malicious, insane part of his brain nudged, irritating Victor was one of Mac's favorite pastimes.
You're losing it, Mac told himself firmly. He kept telling himself that, even as he picked up the phone and dialed Vic's number.
Luckily, sanity reasserted itself when Vic answered. He hung up quickly, before ever saying a single word.
The flutter of panic he'd felt on hearing that familiar voice had absolutely nothing to do with anything. Nor had the burst of pleasure filling his belly. He'd simply... come to his senses. Yeah, that was it.
A sudden desire to do some spring cleaning filled him, and Mac set to work. In between trips to the laundry room to wash curtains and sheets, he industriously moved furniture and vacuumed the living area. Just as he was ready to start in on the bedroom, the doorbell rang.
Vic—that was not a thrill of excitement Mac felt upon finding his partner in the hallway—greeted him with a frown. "Why'd you hang up on me?"
"Huh?" Mac asked with his best 'who me' expression.
Vic brushed past him, entering the apartment and turning to face him expectantly. "You called two hours ago. And hung up on me."
"I did not. You're delusional, Victor."
A snort greeted his denial. "Bullshit, Mac."
Donning an expression of mock concern, Mac tsked. "Vic, Vic, Vic. What's wrong? You miss me?"
Cocking his head to one side, Vic stared at him with narrowed eyes. He turned and crossed to the couch, flopping down comfortably. And stared at Mac some more.
He wouldn't fidget under the green-eyed gaze. Would not fidget. He'd... get a beer. And sit at the other end of the couch. And ignore Vic's steady regard.
By the time he was settled, open bottle of beer in hand, Vic's face had taken on a distinct look of amusement.
"You've been cleaning."
Mac shrugged. "So?" And, no, that hadn't sounded at all defensive.
"You're bored."
"I—Vic! You're certifiable," Mac sputtered.
"You want to go camping with me," Vic continued. As if Mac hadn't spoken at all.
"Camping?!" Mac repeated incredulously. "I do not want to go—"
Unperturbed, Vic interrupted Mac, "You have any equipment?"
Mac choked.
"No, Of course you don't. No problem, I have an extra sleeping bag. Tent's plenty big enough for two."
"You are disturbed, Vic. Seriously disturbed. I have no idea where you came up with this ridiculous idea, but I am not going cam—"
"Pack warm clothes. It gets brisk in the evenings. Don't forget your hiking boots. I'll pick you up in the morning. Say, about five?"
Not only was Vic having delusions, he'd gone deaf. Apparently not one of Mac's emphatic denials had been heard. "Vic, I... Five? AM?" he suddenly asked, horrified.
Vic rose to his feet and pulled his truck keys out of the right pocket of his jacket. "Yes. AM. I'll bring enough gear and food for both of us, don't worry. Got an extra fishing pole, too."
And he left.
"I will not be fishing!" Mac yelled. Unfortunately, he didn't find his voice until Vic was long gone.
Mac grumbled—loudly—the entire time he spent packing.
