#(he doesn't hate mac. eliot just doesn't want another kid on his conscience)

[appalachianapologies]

@impossiblepluto I couldn't stop myself. Behold, a short Leverage/MacGyver crossover snip

Mac knows that he’s nosey. He’s been told so his entire life, and at this point, he just counts it toward some of his charm. It is, however, something that he can’t exactly turn off. Which is why the second that he opens his mouth and questions the ex-soldier in front of him, he already knows it’s a mistake. “Who was that?”

The flip phone snaps shut with a force that echoes around their small motel room. “Nobody.”

The single word is as gruff as everything else. With a huff, Mac looks away. “Okay, fine. I don’t care who’s on the other side. But if it can be tracked-”

“It won’t be tracked. I know a guy.”

Mac knows a guy, too. Or rather, a woman. Guilt prickles under his skin when he thinks of Riley and the rest of the team. Selfishly, he wonders if they’ve even noticed that he’s gone yet. Check-ins have become more and more sporadic as the weeks have passed. 

“I’ll take first watch.”

“I’m good.”

Eliot glares back, arms crossed. “You’re asleep on your feet.”

“So are you.”

“I can stay awake longer than you could even fathom.”

Mac can’t stop his eyes from rolling. It’s barely been a week since he agreed to work with him, but everyday Eliot finds a way to remind him that he’s braver, stronger, better than Mac in every way. “Fine. Suit yourself.” Mac flops over to his side, turning away from Eliot. The twin sized frame makes an uncomfortable groan underneath him, and the mattress sways. 

Without saying a word, Eliot dropped his duffle on the bed closer to the door the second they walked in, not bothering to even pretend to entertain anything different. It’s been like that since day one.

Or, seeing as how they had been going nonstop for the first forty hours, day two.

“Why do you want to find him so damn badly?” It’s practically the first time Eliot has started a conversation that could almost be mistaken for casual.

Despite himself, Mac turns back, not quite fully facing him, but instead at the ceiling. It’s not possible to explain to someone what Jack means to him, especially not a near stranger, so Mac settles for, “It’s what he would do for me.”

“You sure about that?”

These days? Maybe. “Yes.”

“’Cause if it were true, why would he leave without telling you in the first place?”

“He told me,” Mac bites back. “And he… had to. It was important for him to find Kovacs.”

There are a few moments of silence before Eliot asks, “He tell you who Kovacs was?”

“He told me enough.” And Mac filled in the rest with Riley’s help and the information available in the Phoenix’s records. 

Eliot gives another one of his huffs, clearly not believing Mac.

Fine. Whatever. As long as he watches Mac’s back in the field, he doesn’t need to listen to him outside of it. Trust only matters if they’re in danger. Not in some dingy room, waiting the night out. 

Against his better judgement, Mac asks, “Why did you agree to help me?”

There’s a fraction of hesitation too long to be normal before Eliot replies, “I owe him.”

“From when?”

“From before you were born.”

This time, an eye roll doesn’t suffice, and a humorless snort escapes Mac. “Sure.” He’s heard that one before. “Jack was seventeen when I was born, so unless you rescued him from a stray cow on the ranch, I seriously doubt that.”

“It was before you’d have been old enough to care,” Eliot corrects himself, sounding about as happy as anyone ever is when Mac gets snappy. 

“Were you a Delta?” The look that Eliot sends him is a threat, but Mac’s always prided himself on ignoring the warning signs. “Ex special ops?”

“It doesn’t matter who I was.”

“Clearly it does, otherwise we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“If Dalton never told you, I sure as hell ain’t gonna be the one to do it.”

The southern drawl, whenever it comes out thick from Eliot, makes Mac want to flinch. It’s so similar. It’s too similar.

“You oughta get some sleep,” Eliot says, finally moving to sit at the edge of his own mattress. “Couple of long days ahead of us.”

“You should too.”

“I told you-”

“First watch, yeah, I heard it. But you’re not going to be any good to either of us if you’re tired.”

“I’m fine, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You just worry ’bout yourself. And maybe try doin’ that once or twice out there, yeah? I’m not saving your ass twice in one week.”

Much like his accent, the words hit far too close to be comfortable. 

Clenching his teeth, Mac turns back toward the wall. He’ll never be able to fall asleep with his back to the door, but it’s about the principle of the action. If Eliot wants to act like an asshole, that’s fine by Mac. Just as long as he expects the same treatment that he’s dishing out.