A/N: based off a tumblr conversation I had last night speculating about future episodes. I blame all of you. Collectively. Also it's my 21st birthday todayso you should all be nice to me ;) This is ridiculous and I love it because of that and yes I really did use abba lyrics for the title. Enjoy!

Spoilers: based off speculation for episode 2x06 but lets be honest, this would never happen

Mackenzie's not known for her subtlety.

At the best of times she blunders her way through conversations with her superiors until she gets her way, and when things don't turn out like she wants them to she's never been afraid to fight for her position.

Will once supposed it was because she was utterly indifferent to fear or consequences - and he'd added a little eye roll and then kissed her forehead and murmured, "One day that's going to get you into more trouble than it's worth," before continuing to cut up the vegetables for dinner - and almost 7 years later she's still learning that lesson.

Now, however, she truly wishes she could disappear.

Will's been sleeping with Nina Howard for 6 months and Mackenzie only learnt that yesterday. She's still not quite sure what to do with that information, other than quell the urge to curl up on a ball under her desk and perhaps steal the old bottle of Jameson she knows Will has hidden in his office.

At the rundown meeting this morning he'd refused to meet her eye and then he'd disappeared for a stint on morning television without telling her, so Mackenzie had retaliated by glaring at him every time he passed through the newsroom in the afternoon and threatening to dismember him if he ever dared step foot in a studio without her permission again.

It's nighttime now, however, and Mackenzie's reached the stage where the only thing she's feeling is a horrible, rolling ache. She avoids him as she walks to her office, ignoring Sloan's over exaggerated arm waves to follow her and Jim's knowing eyes on the back of her head, so that she can safely envelope herself in a dark, quiet room, away from her ex-boyfriend and his current lover and the phantom feeling of his hands holding her fucking hips that she's never been able to shake, no matter how many years have passed.

She gets all the way to her door before the sound of Nina Howard's raised voice draws her back into the newsroom.

For a second she wants to bang her head into the solid wood door and perhaps see how many times it takes to knock herself out, but then she registers the shrill, pissed off quality to the woman's voice and pauses - she knows that tone. It's the exact same one she'd used with Will earlier today when she'd finally built up the courage to confront him.

"How dare you say this is my fault!" the other woman explodes, and now the entire room's gone quiet and Mackenzie (with her back still to them and her hand on the doorknob) tries to be as subtle as possible as she slowly turns around. She can just imagine Nina's beady eyes and Will's startled, half embarrassed face (he's never liked public confrontations he wasn't leading) and the surprised, perhaps amused glances being shared by the rest of the crew.

She catches Will out of the corner of her eye and then Nina standing before him, eyes flashing in anger, and Mackenzie almost feels sorry for him because Will's never going to come out of this on top. They seem to be midway through an argument and Mackenzie can't figure why Nina would decide to draw it out in front of everyone; perhaps she really is evil, as Charlie had muttered whilst stoically consoling her this afternoon (not that she'd needed consoling, and not that he'd said he was. He'd simply waltzed into her office around 3pm and declared Will a smarmy idiot who had no idea what was good for him and then offered her a knowing smile and a glass of single malt).

There's a low gasp around the room and Mackenzie realises she missed something being said, but she can feel a few eyes on her and wishes she could sink into the carpet - the last thing she wants is to be drawn into the drama and faced with Will's blank gaze again. Nina huffs, and then laughs a second, like she can't quite believe she's found herself in this situation (and Mackenzie can almost sympathise. The worst moments of her life have often been synonymous with arguing with Will McAvoy), but then she turns angrily on him and spits, "And it doesn't help that you're still in love with her!"

Now she does gesture at Mackenzie and Mackenzie sinks back against her door, a startled, wide eyed look on her face that almost rivals the dull ache in her stomach.

Fuck.

But then.

Wait.

In love?

She really shouldn't read too much into this but subtlety's never been her style and it's the most she's received from Will beyond a few ridiculously intense eye gazes and one fumbled attempt at a bar a few weeks after his dad passed away to get his hand around her waist.

Nina turns towards her and now everyone, even a red faced, demonic looking Will is gazing at her and Mackenzie almost whimpers because nothing about this situation is going to end well.

"That voicemail he left you? It wasn't saying you did a good job. Word for word -"

And Will makes a strangled noise, like he wants to interrupt.

For a horrible second his gaze catches Mackenzie's and she feels like she's been punched in he gut because his eyes are raw with emotion; broken and startled - and this isn't the way either of them deserve for the message to be said.

"I never stopped loving you. You were spectacular tonight," and then with a hollow sort of laugh, like she's utterly exhausted, Nina adds, "Can you believe we got Obama."

"He's yours. Have him," and then the gossip columnist turns on her heel and stalks from the silent room.

ooo

Minutes later and Mackenzie's safely in her office with the lights off and the door locked and her emergency bottle of red already open. She hates drinking wine without a glass but desperate times call for desperate measures and she doesn't think she can wait until she gets home.

Every time she opens her eyes she sees Will's startled face gazing back at her and Nina's - no, Will's - words.

I never stopped loving you. You were spectacular tonight.

"Fuck," she mutters, "Fuck fuck fuck."

She didn't think it was possible for the two of them to fuck this situation up more than they already had, but apparently she was wrong.

There's a knock at the door and she jumps, gripping the bottle of merlot tight, and then Will's exhausted, hesitant voice breaks through, "Mackenzie. Come on. Let me in."

For a second she shakes her head determinedly but then realises he can't see her and groans. "Fine," she yells, and with shaky hands gets up to open the door.

Will slithers in behind her and neither of them go to turn on the light.

It feels safer in the dark, somehow. Like the emotions can't escape and overwhelm them if they can't see the other's face.

"I probably deserved that," Will mumbles first, and Mackenzie can't help but chuckle.

"I'm sure you did," she retorts. Will's always been monumentally good at saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment.

"It was never going to last, though," he adds, and she wonders if he's saying that for her benefit.

She shrugs indifferently, stepping around her desk on tip toes (she lost her shoes around the same time she twisted open the cork) before settling back in her chair. Will collapses into one on the other side of the desk and there's a tense moment when they're both silent.

"You didn't deserve that, however," he finally mutters, and Mackenzie thinks that's probably the most generous thing he's said to her in years. She doesn't know if she thinks she deserved it or not.

"Is that really what it said?" she asks hesitantly - she still can't get the thought of it out of her head - and she can almost imagine his rambling, almost slurred voice, still high on adrenaline and marijuana telling her he loves her. That he never stopped loving her. Even through all the pain.

There's a throbbing at her scull that the wine surely isn't helping, but Mackenzie doesn't care as Will takes a deep breathe and murmurs, "Yes."

They're silent after that. Mackenzie tips the bottle to her lips and when Will wordlessly reaches for it she passes it to him without hesitation. The lights in the office are out and the hum of people in the newsroom is lessening and all Mackenzie can hear is the tick of her watch and the sloshing of wine in the bottle each time it's passed between their hands.

ooo

"Is it still true?" she asks later, and Will - slurred now, because he'd disappeared for a few seconds to find the scotch - mumbles back, "Yes. Of course yes. Always yes," and then he's leant over her desk pulling her forward for a kiss that's equal parts misaligned fingers and sloppy tongue work and she laughs into his mouth because he tastes too heavily of mixed drinks.

He swears under his breath and tugs her up and around until she's in his arms and this time when he kisses her she feels it to her toes - it's familiar and skilled and a little rough and definitely handsy and she doesn't stop him when his arms curl up and around her waist. She ends up seated on her desk with his fingers dancing along her scalp, tugging at her hair, and she retaliates by stripping him of his sweater and working her hands down around his waist and belt.

It's a fucked up solution to the days confessions but she's drunk and exhausted and so sick of pretending she's not in love with him.

She hopes Will's feeling the same.

ooo

In the morning they don't talk about it but Will's smile is a little softer and she blushes midway through a meeting with Charlie when he sits too close and even though they won't be repeating last night any where in the near future - it's coming somewhere in the future.

They both know that now.