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Late one night Mack heard Will shuffling around the kitchen. Opening and closing cupboard doors, sighing dramatically.
Mack just waited.
And sure enough after a few minutes in came Will, flopping dramatically onto the couch, his head in Mack’s lap, Mack barely avoiding him hitting his head on the laptop that he had been watching tapes on.
“Mack,” Will whined. “Celly. Superstar. Baby.”
“Yes William?” Mack said, trying to not look down into those big blue eyes.
“I want cookies.”
Mack had to laugh. “All of that was because you want cookies? There’s a grocery store just down the street.”
“You love me right?” Will stared up at him.
“Of course I do,” Mack answered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go get you cookies.”
“Mack!”
“Maybe I’ll just go bake my own,” Will declared, starting to get up from Mack’s lap.
“Oh no you don’t,” Mack exclaimed pulling him back down. “I have saw you set a kettle on fire. And I’m not entirely sure that kettle was actually on. There is no way I’m letting you burn down our house.”
“I…” Will tried to protest. “But I want cookies!”
“Here,” Mack dropped his phone on Will’s chest. “This place delivers cookies till midnight. Order what you want.”
Will scrambled up so he was sitting on Mack’s lap. He took his face in his hands and kissed him. “I love you,”
Mack shook his head a fond look on his face, “Who knew all it took was cookies.”
“Hey,” Will protested.
“I’m just teasing,” Mack kissed him once more. Will shifted again, resetting against the armrest as he scrutinized the cookie menu, Mack curling his arm around him and returning to his videos.