"Punch me."

Everyone in the room fell silent.

"What?"

Matty promptly frosted the windows, giving the team the privacy they needed for this particular argument.

"Punch me, Jack. Come on." MacGyver turned his head slightly, giving Jack the opening he needed.

"I'm not gonna punch you. We can just pretend I drugged you or somethin' to get you into the trunk!" Jack's accent shone through, his incredulous expression easily twisting his features.

"They're not going to believe that. Seeing a bruise -a real one, don't even think about getting Riley to draw one on me-, will help convince them. Plus, it will be easier to take them down if they think I'm helplessly down for the count." The sarcasm in the last few words was blatantly evident, and Jack huffed.

"I'm not going to punch you, Mac. I'm paid to protect you, not harm you!" Jack's indignation was crystal clear and Mac dragged a hand down his face, trying to think of a way to convince his partner.

"Well, they're going to put a bullet between my eyes the second they notice you're playing them. How's that for protecting me?"

"We can think of another plan, Mac!"

"You already set the meeting and we don't have time, Jack. We need to leave in less than 15 minutes if we're going to make it in time to the drop-zone. Besides, it's not like you're actually selling me. If you won't do this, I'll have no problem with getting someone else assigned while you sit on your ass and wait." It was an empty threat and everyone in the room knew it, but Jack still seemed as if he had been physically hit.

"Oh yeah? You're going to trust someone else to watch your back like I do? Good luck with that, kid. You'd end up half-way to Cuba before your new partner realises what happened!" The indifference on Jack's face was belied by the anger and concern colouring his voice.

"If you're so convinced that no one can do a better job than you, then punch me! It's just a black-eye at the most. What's the worst that can happen?"

"You always say that. Usually we tend to learn just how worse things can turn out to be! Need I mention Cairo?" A dramatic shiver followed the cursed name.

"Oh for God's sake Dalton, do I need to convince someone else to punch his pretty face? Besides, you'll be watched the entire time - the SWAT team will move in the second that the exchange happens." Matty rose an eyebrow from her position on the couch, where she was watching the argument - mild interest dancing on her face.

"Nah, he doesn't trust anyone else to punch me. Don't you, Jack?" Mac goaded, trying to get Jack pissed off enough.

"You want to get punched, Mac? Then you'll get punched." With that declaration, Jack drew back his fist and slammed it into Mac's face, not even giving the kid a chance to realise what was going to happen before he was careening backwards. None of them missed the table moving as Mac nicked it on his way down.

"Holy shit, that was an instant K.O.." Riley laughed, a breathless sound of both surprise and actual horror.

"Yeah, no kidding. He's a bit bloody too, so that will help you sell it. Don't think he'll be much good in a fight though. Take care of him, Jack, or I'll send you off to Cuba." Bozer kneeled next to Mac, tapping his cheek to no avail - Mac remained stubbornly unconscious, blood dripping down from a cut a few centimetres away from his hairline.

"I will. Now let's get this show on the road before I kill him myself." Jack crouched next to his partner, gathering him in his arms before heading to the car.

"Get baby Einstein home, Dalton, or you won't have to worry about Cuba." Matty said, her face as impassive as ever.

"I will, Matty. Remind me to get him to eat something when we get back - he's way too light for a 25-year-old." Jack groaned as he shifted the cargo in his arms, making sure that Mac's head remained resting on his shoulder.

"He'll eat, unless you concussed him. Then we might need to postpone feeding him something fattening." Matty shrugged, eyeing the bloody patch forming on Jack's shoulder.

"Oh God, this isn't a good idea. If he's concussed he'll be confused and wake up in the middle of a fight and blow our covers. Then they'll shoot him for sure." Jack hefted Mac higher in his arms and made to get out of the elevator, but Matty barred his way.

"He'll be fine, Jack. Aren't you always telling me to trust his improvising techniques? I'm sure he'll wake up before the meet and he'll be lucid enough to not blow anything out of proportion. I'm sorry, but there's no other way for this to happen unless we want another boy to go missing and turn up raped and butchered later." Matty's regret was blatantly evident, but her authority still won out. They couldn't help the fact that Mac could easily pass off as an 18-year old when dressed casually and with ruffled hair, which made him perfect bait to draw out their paedophile.

"Fine, but if anything happens, it's on you."

With that, the elevators closed, taking Jack down to his car. He settled Macgyver in the seat next to him and lightly zip-tied his wrists together before hightailing it to the drop-zone.

Mac was still unconscious.

Jack had stopped a few blocks away from the drop zone -an abandoned pier, now wasn't that a cliché place for disaster?-, and was shaking Mac roughly, trying to rouse the younger man from his forced nap.

Fortunately, Mac groaned low in his throat before his eyes slid open, misty blue seeking anything and growing wide as he realised that he was zip tied. Jack gently but firmly grabbed Mac's chin, forcing his friend to look at him and calm down.

One of his pupils was blown wide; the sky blue nearly swallowed by the inky darkness that threatened to pull Jack down as well. He had concussed the kid - gone was the idea that this was going to go off smoothly.

"Jack? Where are we?" Mac sounded way younger than his years when he spoke like that. He sounded like the lost kid that Jack had sworn to protect so many years ago.

"Mac, we're at the drop-zone. We're undercover. You just need to lie down in the trunk and be a pretty boy, all right? I won't let anyone harm you, but you can't let them know you know me, okay? You with me?" Jack explained slowly but firmly, trying to imprint the facts into Mac's brain.

"This isn't my first undercover, Jack. You kidnapped me - I know I told you to punch me, but you could have held back a little." Mac shook his head, as if attempting to clear it, and clearly regretted the action as he lost what little colour was in his cheeks. "That was a bad idea." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a few moments as he quelled the storm in his stomach.

"You good to go? I'll try to get this over as soon as I can." Jack leaned over, opening Mac's door and allowing the other agent to breathe a bit of fresh air. Hours seemed to pass while Mac slowly manoeuvred his lanky frame to fit in the relatively small trunk, but in reality only a few minutes had gone by before Jack was slamming the lid shit and driving the remaining way to the drop-zone.

"Is it docile?"

Jack kept himself from reacting and giving away his attachment to the kid in the trunk, who once again appeared to be asleep.

"Well, I just kidnapped him. I doubt that he'll be very docile once he realises what's happening." His sarcasm was not very welcomed, as Jack gathered by the slap that turned his head sideways.

The other's nasally voice grated on his nerves. "Don't be cheeky with me unless you don't want to get paid, brother." Jack cringed; he wouldn't call this man 'brother' in a million years. William Hunky was nothing like his surname suggested - He was a hideous brute, with more oil than hair on his head and a big beard that did nothing to hide the chubby cheeks beneath.

"You better pay me if you want this pretty one, otherwise I'll just take him back." Jack was horribly tempted to shut the trunk again. But he couldn't, and not simply because Mac had his hand over the edge and the action would cut off half a finger.

"I'm a man of my word, Mr. Wilson. This is your payment, as we agreed." William snapped his fingers and a man stepped out from the shadows, a classic, metal briefcase in his hands. Another snap and another man appeared, grabbing Mac from the upper arms and roughly hauling him to his feet in front of Wilson. More men materialised out of the shadows, and Jack realised that they were completely surrounded.

"My my, it seems delicious." William's voice jarred him out of his reverie.

Jack bit his tongue, trying to focus on the pain so that his disgust would not be obvious. William was almost eating Mac with his eyes, clearly imagining what he would do with him later. It nauseated Jack to think that someone could be so aroused upon seeing a barely conscious boy in front of them, and to even imagine someone maliciously raping Mac (or other boys)... He swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat - The image would never leave his mind.

William lazily caressed Mac's arm, grinning as the kid flinched when the filthy hand touched his face, thumb tracing his cheekbone. Even from behind, Jack could notice that the flinch was horribly real, and that Mac was disgusted by the man-handling.

"Gimme my money man, then do as you please. I only care about the whores those 2 mills are gonna buy." It killed Jack to give this man permission to do anything he wanted with Mac and to have Mac hear that he didn't care, but there was really no other way to do this.

"Give him the case." The order was barely a whisper, lost as William was in admiring Mac's facial features and evidently relishing in the boy's discomfort.

Jack moved closer to grab the case, putting himself within arm's distance of Mac. The position went unnoticed by William, but the sudden voices screaming for the tyrants to surrender didn't. Dalton dived for Mac, making sure to protect the boy's head as he took the both of them to the concrete and removed the zip-tie from around Mac's hands.

"Let me go, Jack. He's getting away, we need to help." Mac's voice was crystal clear, and Jack knew that albeit all he wanted was to bundle Mac up in the car and drive him away to safety, they couldn't leave without apprehending William Hunky.

It didn't take long to apprehend William.

Jack and MacGyver were sprinting after him at neck-breaking speeds until they ended up at a dead-end. William groaned, desperation oozing out of him before he turned and faced them. MacGyver happened to be too close to him, and didn't have the time to back-track before (another) fist caught his cheek, sending him to the floor once again.

Mac immediately turned on his stomach, fully planning to continue chasing their current villain, only to see William run face-first into a wooden post nearby and collapse in an undignified heap on the ground, completely motionless.

MacGyver stared comically, fully expecting William to stand up again. He was so shocked that he missed Jack coming next to him and yanking him to his feet by the neck of his jacket like some kind of kitten.

Mac staggered, William immediately forgotten as his knees refused to hold his weight. Jack went to catch him, automatically wrapping his arms around Mac's stomach, and MacGyver lost all control. He yanked Jack's hands away from him, pushing himself to his knees just as his stomach heaved, sending up the meagre contents of his breakfast and lunch to the asphalt below.

He instinctively swallowed, but the taste only invoked even more heaving and Mac felt his whole body spasm, fingers curling against the gravel beneath. Every heave sent exploding pains in his head. It was painful. Mac was dimly aware of Jack's hand on his eyes, keeping him from being overloaded by the sunshine as well as his own vomit. The smell triggered a round of dry-heaves that had tears sliding down Mac's cheeks, but Jack efficiently wiped those away without ever uncovering Mac's eyes.

The gravel was rough.

Jack's hand was calloused.

The after-taste and smell of vomit were horrendous.

The sirens and orders being shouted not too far away were driving needles in his head.

MacGyver attempted to curl into himself, trying to prevent himself from receiving any more sensory information, but Jack wouldn't allow him.

"Close your eyes for a bit kid, I need to remove my hand." Jack's comforting baritone was a mere whisper next to his ear and Mac nodded weakly, letting his eyes shut and welcoming the familiar rustle of Jack's shirt against his bullet-proof vest. Soon enough, there was a soft cloth being tied over his eyes, cutting off the piercing sunshine.

"Okay, I'm going to carry you, all right? Don't even try to argue with me, you're swaying while kneeling. Just trust me, okay?"

Jack ruffled his hair, a gesture of comfort before his hands wrapped around Mac's chest, easing him back to sit on his ass. It wasn't long until hands slipped under his knees and around his shoulders. Mac braced himself before Jack straightened and remained utterly still, allowing Mac to adjust to their position before he started moving.

He was saying something - His drawl was washing over Mac, like a blanket that had too many holes in it but you could never throw away because of some sentimental value or another. Mac couldn't help the smile; Jack was truly just like a soft, secure blanket under his toughness and his whole "I'm a badass Delta soldier" image.

"You're smiling randomly. Great, I need to check you for additional brain damage apart from a concussion." Jack's voice jarred him out of his reverie and Mac hummed, privately relishing the thumb that was rubbing circles into his elbow as they neared the bustle of the drop-zone.

MacGyver conveniently allowed unconsciousness to sweep him away when he heard Bozer's panicked voice approaching.

Jack noticed the second that Mac lost consciousness. He cursed the fact that there weren't any ambulances and bundled Mac into the backseat of his car, letting Riley slip in next to his friend as Bozer rode shotgun, calling Matty to make sure there was "a damned doctor in the infirmary because the stupid idiot is unconscious" even as he demanded to be told what happened.

"I gave him a concussion, William punched him, he threw up and passed out. Remove the blindfold Riley, it was only because of the sun." Jack said, reaching a hand behind so that he could squeeze Mac's wrist. The steady beat beneath was reassuring.

Riley was arranging Mac so that his head was cushioned on her lap and held him securely in place as Jack swerved violently before answering. "I already did."

"Why do you carry a blindfold?" Bozer questioned, trying to not go hysterical.

"It's efficient for when Mac needs a cloth." Jack answered shortly, going way over the speed limit so that he could reach the Phoenix foundation in less than the half an hour it had taken them to arrive at the drop-zone.

Jack almost crashed into the pavement when he heard Mac groan and Riley shushing him, but the moment was short-lived. Mac's eyes fluttered weakly before he fell back unconscious.

'At least he didn't throw up in the car.' Jack tried to comfort himself with the dry humour, but it only worked for a few rueful seconds.

Riley and Bozer were ordered to brief Matty while Jack personally took Mac down to the infirmary, shouldering open doors that people didn't already open for him when they saw him and his cargo.

It didn't faze anyone at Phoenix anymore to see Jack carrying MacGyver to their infirmary. Except normally MacGyver was kicking (and screaming, to some extent), not completely motionless in Jack's arms.

It didn't take long to arrive at the infirmary where Jack gently laid Mac down. An ugly bruise had already blossomed around his eye and covered half of the left side of his face, courtesy of the two punches he had received.

Jack didn't have time to yell for a doctor before there were two by Mac's bed, one of them pushing Jack out of the way while the other grabbed an antiseptic wipe to clean the blood from Mac's face.

"Was he injured in any other way?" Doctor Jameson, the one who had pushed Jack away, asked.

"No, he only got punched, hit a table and lost consciousness." Jack said, before adding what he remembered; "He also threw up."

"It's your typical concussion; a mild one from what I can see. He just needs to sleep it off and allow himself time to recover before getting into more fights." Dr. Wild stated as he forcefully opened Mac's eyelids and ran a penlight over both of his eyes.

"Well, I better stock up on painkillers then. Can I take him home when he wakes up?" Jack questioned, knowing for a fact how much Mac detested staying in the infirmary.

"Yeah, you know how to deal with a concussed MacGyver by now. Just give us a call if he exhibits unusual symptoms." Dr. Jameson said, a small smile pulling at the tips of his mouth.

MacGyver chose that moment to stir, his head lolling on the pillow as he tried to avert his gaze from the bright lights hanging overhead. Jack caught the cut-off groan or mumble that left Mac's lips and was immediately by his friend's side, one hand slipping in Mac's own.

"Haya brother, care to open those baby blues?" Jack coaxed in a whisper, trying to avoid causing his friend more pain.

"Jack? Wha's goin' on?" Mac's eyes moved lazily around the room before settling on Jack, confusion and pain crystal clear in their depth. Despite the obvious suffering, Jack allowed himself to be pushed away so that Mac had enough space to sit up.

"The mission is done, but you have a mild concussion. You just need to do your favourite thing in the whole wide world now; rest and let it run its course." Jack smirked when Mac glared at him, the effect immediately ruined by the dazed look.

"Hey Mac, I'm just going to ask you the routine questions and then you can go home. All right?" Dr. Jameson appeared on Mac's other side and offered the kid a glass of water, which Mac carefully sipped until it was empty.

"My name's Angus MacGyver, the date is 25th July, you are Dr. Jameson and he is the pain in the ass Jack Dalton. Riley and Bozer are upstairs?" Mac rattled off, long since accustomed to the questions that the doctors usually asked. However, his eye roll was a bad idea. Jack winced when Mac grimaced, a hand reaching up to rub at his temples.

"Take a couple of painkillers Mac, they'll help." Dr. Jameson squeezed Mac's shoulder before taking his leave, a fond smile evident on his features. God knew he had taken care of Mac more times than Jack himself could count.

"Thanks." Mac frowned, reaching up to rub at his eyes and ears in an array of movement that dazed even Jack before he grabbed the kid's wrists and forced them down.

"How bad are the symptoms?" Jack said, moving back as Mac carefully swung his legs to the side so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I would suggest grabbing a paper bag before you drive me home, and please don't light the music." Mac's eyes fell to the ground and Jack couldn't help but worry. If Mac was admitting so openly, albeit a bit vaguely, that he wasn't feeling well, it meant that all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and die.

"Do you need the blindfold?" Jack threw one of Mac's arms over his shoulders when the kid staggered, clearly unsteady on his feet.

"Just get me home, Jack." Mac's exhaustion shone in his voice and Jack forced himself to shut up as he carefully manoeuvred them to the elevator. With Mac, it was better to not push when he was hurting unless you wanted to be permanently locked out.

And if Jack was good at anything, it was at telling when the kid was hurting.

He settled Mac in the passenger seat before dropping the blindfold in his lap, giving him free reign over the somewhat obstructive fabric.

Mac was out of the car like a bullet before Jack was fully parked in the kid's driveway. The reason became clear when Jack heard the gut-wrenching retching. Since Mac hadn't eaten anything his vomit was mostly bile and acid, and Jack's heart went out for him.

"You done?"

The question was met by a weak nod, and it was a testimony to how Mac was hurting when he didn't protest as Jack hauled him -gently- to his feet and more or less manhandled him to the couch in the living room, where Mac curled up under a blanket.

"I'll be right back, Mac. Just going to grab you some pills." Jack didn't know if the boy had heard him or if he was unconscious, so he quickly left in his quest to find the painkillers, the Gatorade, and some crackers for Mac to munch on.

Mac hated concussions with a passion. Even while curled up and immobile on the couch, he could still feel the world shift beneath him, refusing to stand still for a moment. He knew that the earth was continuously turning on its axes, but this was just ridiculous. The lack of sure-footedness, so to speak, was invoking a headache that nearly blinded him with its intensity and Mac dragged the blanket over his eyes in an attempt to block out the light and the huge empty space of the living room.

Jack was gone.

Mac dimly remembered Jack saying something before leaving, but the ringing in his ears had prevented him from understanding and Jack hadn't given him enough time to articulate his question. More importantly, he was too confused by the fact that he didn't know how he had made it inside after throwing up on the pavement.

God, he was a wreck.

His stomach was still queasy and Mac instinctively curled further into himself, as if trying to hold himself in one piece. He was attempting to fall asleep when the blanket was peeled away from his face, breaking the cocoon of comfort that Mac had been wrapped in. He scowled and attempted to fix the blanket again, but his hand was stopped before Mac managed to smack himself in the face.

"Sit up, Mac. You need to eat something."

Jack was in front of him again, conveniently blocking the light that was coming from the large glass doors. The lamps were already switched off. When did that happen?

"Not hungry."

Mac couldn't even imagine stomaching something at the moment, not when his gut was still rolling as if gearing up for round 2 of 'Let's almost kill Mac with vomiting'.

"Just a cracker bro. Then you can take a painkiller and sleep a bit, okay?"

Jack's voice was comforting. He wasn't treating Mac like a child like most doctors did when faced with concussed patients, and the timbre of his voice was so familiar that Mac could still feel safe even if he did not understand the words.

"My ears are ringin'."

Mac didn't even pay attention to the slur in his voice, fully content with closing his eyes again and relaxing now that he knew Jack was there. Jack would protect him.

"I'm going to sit you up."

Mac barely deciphered the words before there were hands around him, leveraging him up into a sitting position. Something was draped over his eyes, blocking out any type of light. Mac didn't like being blindfolded. Last time he was blindfolded he ended up kidnapped and drugged out of his mind.

But this blindfold was soft and had Jack's distinct smell to it. Why was Jack blindfolding him? Was Jack kidnapping him? Didn't he lock Mac in a trunk just this morning?

"Calm down buddy. I'm not kidnapping you. It's just to not aggravate your headache while you eat. I'll remove it in your room, okay?"

Jack's hand settled on his shoulder, gently squeezing the limb before the hand ruffled his hair. Mac scowled but didn't do anything. He was too busy holding the blanket around his shoulders. It was fluffy and comforting.

"Mac, drink this. You need to wash away the taste of vomit man."

Mac dumbly nodded, reaching out blindly from beneath the blanket to try and locate the glass. His hand was swatted away and a plastic rim was pressed against his bottom lip. Oh. Jack was holding the bottle to his lips. Mac bristled - he wasn't an invalid, he could drink himself!

"Your hands are shaking, Mac. Let me do this."

Now that he had been made aware, Mac noticed that tremors were coursing through him. He opened his mouth a bit and immediately felt liquid hitting his taste buds. It definitely wasn't water. It was orangey, and Mac noticed that it was Gatorade. His preferred drink. He took a few more sips before turning his face away in an attempt to tell Jack that he had had enough.

His head protested the slight movement. A groan escaped as the dizziness returned with vengeance and a pulse of pain nearly blinded him. He scrambled for something to hold onto and was glad when Jack grasped one of his hands, gently squeezing to affirm the boy that he was still there.

"Just one cracker, Mac."

Something else pressed against his lip. It was crumbly. What had Jack said? Oh yeah, a cracker. Mac didn't want to throw up again. He grimaced, pulling away from the food, but a hand at the back of his neck prevented him from moving too much.

"It's not going to make you throw up, Mac. Trust me."

Mac trusted Jack. He knew that his brother wouldn't hurt him. He opened his mouth, letting Jack push the cracker inside before he bit it off. It didn't have a taste. Mac couldn't help his smile. The lack of taste and its dry texture would not set off his stomach again. His head twanged again, reminding Mac that thinking of logistics at the moment was not a great idea.

It took a while for Mac to finish the crackers, or at least it felt like a long while, but soon enough there was a pill being forced against his lips, and Mac accepted it mutely. His ears were ringing again, and he had no idea if Jack was speaking or not. There was the Gatorade bottle at his mouth again, and Mac drank just enough to wash down the pills before turning away, still wary of his stomach rebelling.

Jack pulled the Gatorade away once Mac leaned back again. This was their usual routine when Mac ended up concussed; his tolerance for pain usually disappeared, leaving him horribly sensitive to any kind of light. Sometimes, his balance was also shot to hell due to being overly dizzy. The first time it happened, Jack had ushered the kid to the hospital and the doctors had kept him there overnight, but it soon turned out that it was just how Mac reacted to concussions.

Leave it to the kid to react completely different than most people do once he was out of danger.

Jack huffed a small laugh, confident in the fact that Mac couldn't hear him -the ringing ears were rare, but not unheard of-, and slowly placed his hand on MacGyver's elbow. When the kid acknowledged his presence, Jack pushed upwards, signalling that the kid had to stand up. A small tap to the side of his head was code for 'bed', and quickly muted any type of argument that Mac was about to conjure up.

"Come on, kiddo. You better sleep a bit before Bozer and Riley get here."

His words were heard, slightly misunderstood probably, but heard nonetheless. Mac pushed himself to his feet and fell onto Jack, prompting the veteran to slide a hand beneath Mac's knees and lift the smaller man into a bridal carry. Mac protested, hitting the other with the blanket, but Jack ignored him.

"I'd like to see you in bed in less than the hour it would take you to arrive on your own steam, Mac. Stop fighting me."

Mac seemed to resign himself, allowing Jack to lower him in bed and remove his clothes and shoes. It was a testimony to how much Mac trusted Jack that he allowed the latter to manhandle him completely, especially after the manhandling he had been subjected to this very morning. Once Mac was under the covers and the blinds were drawn, Jack removed the blindfold, allowing Mac to blink wearily at him.

"I'm going to get you an icepack for the black eye, okay?"

By the time Jack made it back into the bedroom, Mac was curled up on his side, sleeping. Jack couldn't help his fond smile as he pushed the blond strands away from the kid's face and gently held the ice against his bruised and swollen eye. Mac didn't even stir.

"I am really starting to hate debriefing. How long has he been sleeping?" Bozer questioned when he and Riley arrived.

"Three hours or so. He woke up about an hour ago from a nightmare, but he dropped back to sleep after a few minutes." Jack whispered from his seat next to Mac's bed, dutifully watching over his partner.

"He's really wiped out. Don't you have to wake him every few hours?" Riley commented, leaning down to press a kiss to Mac's hair. The kid didn't stir.

"Yeah, this case really took it out of him. He'll be fine with some rest, the doctor said that it's a mild concussion, so there's no need for us to wake him every two hours. He just needs the rest. How much time off do we have?" Jack explained.

"Matty told us to take a week off. She said she'd drop by tomorrow." Bozer said. "I'm going to make us some dinner."

"Will we wake him to eat?" Riley asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I'll let him wake up on his own time. We can always reheat the food." Jack answered.

They were binge-watching a series the next morning when Mac stumbled out of his room, still shirtless and with a severe case of bed hair. He blinked at them, then looked down at his own self, then backtracked to his bedroom, from where he emerged again in a hoodie and with pinkish cheeks.

"Hey." His greeting was slightly hoarse, but he seemed to be holding his own.

"Hey yourself. How're you feeling?" Jack asked, automatically zeroing on the horrible bruise that decorated Mac's eye.

"And don't you dare say fine." Bozer added before Mac could respond.

"I have a headache. Bit nauseous, but the dizziness and the ringing abated." Mac conceded as he settled on the couch next to Jack.

"He's busting out the big words. Yeah, he's getting better. Can you warm up the soup, Bozer? This kid needs to eat." Jack wrapped his arm around Mac's shoulder, subtly holding the boy into place when Mac made to escape.

"'Abated' isn't a big word, Jack. Your vocabulary is just too simplistic." Riley said, causing Mac to snort.

"Normal people say 'passed' or 'faded', Riley. Is that soup ready, Bozer?" Jack called out, placing his hands on Mac's ears so that he wouldn't hear the loudness.

"I'm not hungry." Mac swatted away Jack's hands.

"You're eating, Mac. No arguments." Jack's 'dad' voice came out, a shred of command with a whole lot of veiled threat beneath. "You've been asleep for almost twelve hours, so you need to get some food in you and tell us if you remember what happened."

"We went undercover, you punched me, Husky or Hunky or whatever was his name punched me too, then somehow I was in the infirmary at the Phoenix, then I was here, and here I am." Mac summarised as Bozer handed him a thermos filled with soup. "Also, my name is Angus MacGyver, you're Jack Dalton - Delta Force veteran, she's Riley Davis, and this is a soup made by Wilt Bozer."

"Okay smarty pants, eat your soup." Jack said grouchily, even if the relief in his eyes belied his tone.

"Thanks, Jack." Mac smiled at his 'brother', the vague gratitude conveying the multitude of what he felt.

"All of it, Mac." Bozer's voice was low as he attempted to prevent any more pain to his friend.

"I can't, Bozer."

Jack almost pushed the soup back into Mac's hand before he took a good look at the kid. Mac was still a bit pale, but his paleness was now taking a green tinge as his stomach debated whether or not to accept the soup. He glanced into the bowl, glad to see that the majority of it was gone, and nodded at Bozer so that the other would lay off.

"I'll just leave it in the fridge for you, then you can just reheat it when you feel like it." Bozer smiled, petting Mac's shoulder as he disappeared back into the kitchen along with Jack.

"Thanks, Boz." Mac leaned back against the couch, relishing his friends' silent company. He didn't bother to fight Jack off when the other dropped a cool washcloth over his eyes, chasing away the residual pain. A pill was pressed against his lips - a bit insistently when Mac refused to open them -, and soon there was a water bottle being pushed into his hands.

"Jack, stop self-blaming." Mac uttered when he felt the hands that fluttered over his face and arms. They froze when Mac spoke.

"I did this to you, Mac." Jack muttered, raising one corner of the washcloth to gaze at the bruises. Mac opened one eye, glaring at the veteran before closing it again.

"It was because of a mission, and I goaded you. It's just a concussion, I'll be fine. It's not like you purposefully threw me into the table." Mac said, patting the space next to him. He felt Jack collapse next to him, still fidgety with misplaced feelings.

"Next time you scare me like this, I definitely will." Jack grumbled, throwing one arm over the top of the couch.

"No, you won't." Mac smiled, feeling Jack's glare as he was called out on his false threat. Mac couldn't help it, it was way too fun to goad Jack.

His stomach still twisted, but at least it wasn't turning on itself now. Despite having slept for a long time, the cool washcloth over his eyes and the comfortable drone of the television in the background were enough to start lulling him back to sleep. He felt Jack gently manhandle him -again- so that Mac was now lying with his head against Jack's chest, the other's hand rubbing circles into his back.

Mac sighed, shifting slightly so that he was more comfortable, before resting against his friend. The steady beating of Jack's heart was a soothing lullaby in itself. Riley was quiet, but Mac knew it was her who turned down the volume of the television and changed his washcloth when it grew too warm on his face.

The nimble hand gently squeezing his own went unspoken about because Mac chose that moment to tumble off the precipice and into dreamland, knowing for a fact that his friends would make sure no more harm came to him. For now.

Disclaimer: I do not own MacGyver, nor am I profiting from this.

I hope you liked this guys. Not one of my best works, I admit, but someone asked for it and I do not like to break my promises.

Anyway, let us hope that due to the EU, this will not be the last fanfic I post on this site (to see my full note on this, see my previous story - Sacrifice, One Piece fandom).

Anyway, feel free to leave any constructive criticism, feedback, comments, kudos, etcetera!

-Chrisii