MacGyver Imagines

"Late to the Party"

A/N: Hey everybody! I can't believe it's almost time for Fall! Get ready to pull out your pumpkin spice and fall sweaters, and settle in for another story. This request from MidnightCheyenne is warm and fuzzy and nothing but fluff, and I hope you enjoy! 💛
Song: "Late to the Party" by Kacey Musgraves 
Rating: Everyone

🌟P.S. Inquiring minds want to know: To all of my fiercely loyal readers who have read many or all of my stories thus far, I'd love to know if there is one story, plot, or type of story that you've enjoyed more than all the others? If you could let me know in the comments or message me, I'd appreciate it! It will help guide future stories. Thanks, and I love you guys! 💚

***

My eyes flutter open to the serenity of another September morning. The heat of Mac's body wrapped around me fills my heart with a full sense of comfort and protection. And his kisses peppering my cheeks cause me to break out into a wide sleepy grin.

"You know how to wake a girl up in the morning."

His hand runs over my waist, settling at my hip before I turn in his embrace, placing a hand on his chest and scooting impossibly closer.

His sexy morning smile and ruffled bed head brighten the morning even more than I ever could imagine. "You better believe that, if I'm giving a wake up call, I'm gonna do it right."

I reach my hand up, running my fingers through the soft strands of his golden blonde hair - from the slightly darker roots all the way to where my fingertips reach the ends. "Your hair is getting so long."

"I've been meaning to get it cut. I just haven't had a chance."

"I can do it."

Mac scrunches his eyes tightly, disbelieving my admission. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Seriously. My aunt is a cosmetologist. She taught me how to cut hair, and I used to cut my roommates' hair in college."

"That's not a convincing argument. No offense, but I don't feel comfortable with a track record of two college roommates as your clients."

"Oh come on! Let me do it." Shifting the sheets, I straddle him, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing my lips mere inches from his. "Pleeaassse."

"Okay. You can do it. But, please don't make me regret this."

***

After grabbing a towel and shampoo from the bathroom, I beckon Mac to the kitchen sink, pulling a wooden chair over as it scrapes the linoleum floor. "Sit."

"So bossy."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," I tease.

As he sits, I pull his hair back into the sink, pulling on the sprayer attachment of the faucet. Warming the water under my hands, I position the cascading flow over his locks until they're dripping wet. Smoothing a dollop of his sweet and spicy scented shampoo in my hands, I run my fingertips all over Mac's head until all I can see is suds. His eyes flutter shut, enjoying the slow, sensational massaging of his scalp.

"Feel good?"

"So good."

Pulling the sprayer from its docked position yet again, I start to rinse the soapy mess from his hair, leaving smooth, slightly darkened strands in their wake. But, the sprayer slips from my soapy hands, letting water spray over the front of his t-shirt.