by Jennie
aking up with a warm body next to him wasn't all that unusual. Realizing that the body in question was decidedly male, however, was a little odd. He'd seldom spent an entire night with a man.
But.
Opening one eye to glance down at the head resting on his shoulder, Mac saw Vic plastered against his side. And, damn, wasn't Vic's hair silky soft brushing against his skin? His lax body warm and trusting draped along Mac's side? It was... Nice, actually.
And confusing.
This was Vic. Boring, predictable Vic. 'Anything you can do, I can do better' Vic. Rampantly heterosexual Vic. Vic with the pretty eyes and sinfully lush eyelashes. Vic with the lips that just begged to be kissed. Vic who had actually asked to cuddle up with him last night.
Damn and damn and DAMN.
What the hell had happened? Mac mulled over several possibilities before deciding that some kind of mind-altering drug had been slipped into their drinking water.
Mac knew that there could be only one suspect: The Director. Her sick and twisted sense of humor would be the death of him one day.
He was beginning to think that today might just be that day...
As he was contemplating his chances of sliding out of bed without waking Vic, he felt the soft flutter of eyelashes against his skin. Holding his breath, Mac waited for the inevitable explosion that he believed would occur when Vic realized whose shoulder he was sleeping on. His dread grew when Vic yawned and stretched.
"Morning," murmured a sleep-roughened voice.
"Vic?" he ventured cautiously.
"Mmm hmm?"
"You're not angry?"
"Why would I be?"
"Um... you do know that you're in bed with me? Mac? Your partner? Your male partner?"
"Yes, Mac," Vic replied calmly. "I am aware of both your identity and your gender."
"Oh." Mac swallowed heavily. "And you don't mind—that we're... you're... um."
Rolling onto his back, Vic stretched again and rubbed his eyes. "Of course I don't mind, you idiot. It was my idea, after all."
Having no idea how to respond, Mac elected to stay silent. He watched as Vic rose to his feet and pulled on a pair of jeans.
The sight did not turn him on at all. Not even a little. Uh-uh.
"Gotta go visit a tree," Vic said as he stepped into his boots. "You start a fire so we can get a pot of coffee brewing."
Vic had acted so normally, well, as normal as Vic ever acted, that Mac was beginning to think that his suspicion that they'd been drugged was unfounded. Maybe, he thought hopefully, this was how a relaxed and happy Victor Mansfield behaved.
"Something wrong, Mac?" Vic asked out of the blue as they sat at the fireside, enjoying one more post-dinner cup of coffee.
"Not a thing," was the breezy answer. "What makes you ask?"
Vic rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You haven't complained today."
"I suppose it never crossed your mind that I might just be enjoying the peace and quiet?"
"No, Mac. In fact, that possibility didn't even occur to me once."
"Well, I am—enjoying myself."
"Riight," Vic said sarcastically. "You're a regular nature lover."
"Hey, you don't know everything about me."
"You're right. I don't." Vic smiled in challenge. "Then you won't mind a quick bath in the river, will you, nature boy?"
"A what?" Mac asked incredulously. "That water is freezing cold, Victor."
"We stink, partner."
"So?"
"So, if you think I'm sleeping next to your odorous self, you are sadly mistaken. Besides, you need a shave."
"I need...?" Mac shook his head, confused. "What the hell does my beard have to do with anything?"
Vic rubbed a hand across his own lower face. "I have very sensitive skin. We wouldn't want anyone asking how I got beard burn, now, would we?"
It had been a confusing day, to say the least. A confusing two days. And one night. Victor had been acting... weird. Friendly. Relaxed. Friendly! This, though... This open flirting was, well, it was so not Victor that Mac was once again leaning in the direction of his drugs-in-the-water theory.
Because Vic was treating Mac as a friend and, most confusing of all, a potential lover.
And Mac—well, Mac was completely confounded, not only by Vic's behavior, but by his own reaction to it. True, he'd always been aware of the older man's good looks. Knowing that Vic was an attractive man and finding himself seriously considering getting sexually involved with him, however, were two very different things.
All day long Mac had found himself watching Vic with growing curiosity and desire. He'd been so distracted by this that he'd completely forgotten to bitch and moan about the hiking and fishing they'd engaged in.
Then there were the thoughts of sleeping—on that one air mattress Vic had brought. Memories of how very much he'd enjoyed the previous night's closeness. The warmth. The way Vic had cuddled up to him. The way he'd wakened, Vic's body pressed close to him.
Damn.
And, fuck. Vic was making it rather clear that he intended to make some kind of Big Move. Very soon.
Vic rose to his feet and stretched. "No time like the present," he announced cheerfully. "Go get your stuff and we'll wash up."
Mac gulped. "Ah... Vic... Are you sure you're okay?"
"Just fine, Mac. Just fine."
Yes indeed, Mac thought, Vic was indeed. Fine.
With a shake of his head—which did not have the hoped for effect of clearing his thoughts—Mac sighed heavily and looked up at his partner. "I think that maybe I'll let you go first, Vic."
"You don't think that you might need a little... help?" Licking his lips suggestively, Vic used the eyelashes on him.
"No," Mac squeaked. "Been washing myself for years now, Vic."
"No mirror for shaving, though."
"Battery-run electric." How he was managing to be even a little coherent was a complete mystery to Mac.
"Mmm," Vic hummed throatily. "If you insist."
Mac cleared his throat and nodded jerkily. "Um... yeah. I do. I'll clean up around here while you're washing, okay?"
"No," Vic announced after frowning for a moment in thought. "You shave while I bathe. Then while you're washing I'll do a quick clean up."
"No hurry," Mac said. "It's not even dark out yet."
"Oh, my plans for the evening are complex. We won't get to sleep for hours."
Wondering just when he'd lost his mind, Mac walked numbly over to the tent and pulled his shaver out of his kit.
As he shaved, he searched his mind frantically for a way to talk Vic out of this madness gracefully. To talk himself out of doing something that they'd both regret once they were sane again.
He flinched when Vic returned and spoke. Whirling around, he glared at his partner. "Don't sneak up on me that way, dammit!"
With a knowing smirk, Vic shrugged. "Calm down, Mac. I'll take very good care of you tonight. No need to worry, you can trust me."
Which was exactly what frightened Mac.
"Go, Mac. Go now."
So Mac did. Gathering his supplies, he walked to the river's edge and stripped. He was in such a shocked state—both at himself and Vic—that he never even noticed the chill of the water. All he could think about was Vic. Making love with Vic.
"Hurry up, Mac!" Vic yelled impatiently. "I have everything ready."
The implications of that statement made Mac's knees buckle alarmingly. With shaky and reluctant movements, Mac climbed out of the water and dried himself off. After donning a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt and socks—damn, a flannel would be good—maybe a parka—hell, maybe body armor—Mac gathered himself together as best he could and walked up to the tent.
"Hail Victor," Mac misquoted. "We who are about to die, salute you."
Raising the flap, Mac entered the tent.
A/N—Having been threatened with an untimely and painful death by my beloved beta, Sue, I hereby promise that in the next section, "Sated", there WILL be s-e-x. Hot, sweaty, dirty, monkey sex. I will not, as she insinuated (quite suspiciously, I might add) be writing a story called "Frustration". At least, not now. I'm not even gonna go into Ori's comments.
