Rachel's eyes glistened. "Mac—"
"I mean it. Every word."
She set down her pizza plate, and before Mac could process what was happening, Rachel was kissing him.
Not the gentle kisses they'd shared before. This was different; more urgent, more real. Her hands slid into his hair, and Mac pulled her closer, one hand on her waist, the other cupping her face.
Rachel tasted like pizza and possibility and something uniquely her.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Mac rested his forehead against hers.
"So," he managed, "I should burn dinner more often?"
Rachel laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. "Maybe not. But yes. I mean no. I mean—" She kissed him again, cutting off her own rambling.
They stayed like that for a while, kissing on Mac's couch, Puck had abandoned the room entirely, apparently disgusted by the display.
Eventually, Rachel pulled back slightly. "I should probably gohome. It's getting late and I have work tomorrow."
"Or," Mac said, "you could stay. Not like that!" he added quickly as Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I mean, just hang out. Watch a movie. I promise to keep my hands to myself."
"Can you though?"
"Probably not, but I'll try really hard."
Rachel laughed. "One movie. Then I go home."
"Deal."
They settled in to watch some action movie Mac had seen a dozen times but couldn't focus on because Rachel was tucked against his side, her head on his shoulder, and it felt so perfectly right that Mac could barely breathe.
Somewhere around the forty-minute mark, Rachel fell asleep.
Mac stayed completely still, afraid to wake her, one arm around her shoulders, trying to memorize this moment. The weight of her against him. The soft sound of her breathing. The way she'd burrowed into his side like she belonged there.
Mac stayed exactly where he was, Rachel sleeping against him, the movie playing unwatched on the TV.
This, Mac thought. This was what he wanted. Not fancy dinners or perfect dates. Just this. Rachel stirred about twenty minutes later, blinking awake slowly.
"I fell asleep on you," she mumbled. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you sleep."
"I'm not cute. I probably drooled on your shirt."
"Definitely drooled. Still cute."
Rachel sat up, rubbing her eyes, and both cats immediately protested the disruption. "What time is it?"
"Almost twelve."
"Shit. I really do need to go." But she didn't move immediately, just sat there looking at Mac with soft eyes and messy hair.
"I'll walk you to your car."
"You don't have to—"
"I'm walking you to your car, Rachel."
