#dad!mac

Mac’s truck kicks up a trail of dust behind it as he turns off the main road into a long narrow driveway. He’s got one hand wrapped loosely around the steering wheel and the other tapping absently against the center console. The mountains are sitting pretty in the distance, still streaked with snow from earlier this week. 

Waylon’s got his knees pulled up in the backseat, his chin resting on them, as his eyes peer out the window. He’s been quiet for the last ten minutes, which, knowing Waylon— is never a good sign. 

“That’s it?” he asks, not sounding excited in the slightest. 

Mac nods, glancing back at him in the rear view before back at the road. “Yeah. That’s it, buddy.”

The farmhouse comes into view as Mac finishes pulling down the drive. The crooked fence is the first thing seen, then the barn off to the side with a dilapidated looking chicken coop only a few feet away, and then the house itself. It’s old. Old enough to not cost a fortune. There’s a big wooden porch, its paint worn away by the weather. The heavy front door looks like it’s seen a hundred and one winters and has yet to care. 

Mac parks the truck in front of the house and cuts the engine. His hand finds yours, but nobody moves. Not right away. 

“Well.” Mac chuckles with an exhale, “guess this is the moment of truth.”

You push your door open first, letting go of Mac’s hand to climb out of the truck. The air’s different here. It’s cooler and cleaner than California. It smells like dirt and old wood and the house you'd be turning into your home. Mac walks around the truck to open Waylon’s door, resting his arm against it. 

“C’mon. At least pretend you don’t hate it until after you’ve seen it,” He says to him. 

Waylon huffs, but he hops down next to his father and sighs, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t hate it… I just don’t wanna leave California. Travis is there.”

You sigh, eyes flicking up just in time to meet Mac’s. You both knew it. But, Mac being Mac, nods like he expected him to say just that. “Yeah, buddy. I know.”

Waylon kicks a rock then as you take a stroll towards the porch “We’re best friends, dad. Now we’re moving away and I won’t have any more friends.”

Mac glances at you for help, soon realizing he doubts he’ll be getting any. “Hey.” He says softly as he looks at him, letting a hand squeeze his shoulder. “You can still call him. Text him. Hell, we’ll fly you back out in the summer. Travis can come here and stay too.”

Waylon doesn’t answer. But he isn’t frowning anymore either. 

You place your hand on the railing, the porch immediately creaking under your weight as you step up. Waylon follows shortly after, stomping to see if it’ll collapse under him. “What if I fall through?”

Mac laughs softly, “we’d get it cheaper.”

You roll your eyes, tugging the keys out of your bag and turning the lock. You nudge the door open, it sticks and Mac has to finish pushing it open with his shoulder. That’s first up on your list of things to fix. Waylon steps inside in front of you both, “Whoa.”

That seems to be the first real spark he’s shared in days. 

Mac watches him as he peeks around the living and dining room of the house. Then he bumps his shoulder into yours. “Alright.” he chuckles. “We got a ‘whoa’. That’s pretty promising for a ten year old.”

Waylon wanders back into the living room and then spins towards where a dark hallway, tucking away the stairs is. “My room is up there?” He asks. Mac nods in response. Waylon sighs then, “i want a big one.”

Mac chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You’re negotiating from a weak position there, pal.”

Something out the window catches Waylon’s eye and he takes off, halfway out the back door he shouts behind him, “there’s a barn!”

You laugh, following him back out. You stand on the porch while Mac shakes his head behind you. He’s got a small smile creeping in and plastering itself to his lips whether he wants it to or not. Waylon’s still running, and after a minute or two longer, he appears in front of the building. 

Mac watches him for a little longer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

You lean back into him, tipping your head just enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “Of course he will be.”

Mac squeezes around your waist again as you bring a hand down to cover his. When you both look up, you can see Waylon starting to climb the metal gate at the pasture's edge. “Hey! Be careful!” Mac calls, “You fall off that thing, you and your mama are both gonna be crying.” Then he grins and hooks his chin over shoulder. “Kid’s got a big heart. He’ll fit in around here just fine.”