Work Text:
can i cum over? ;)
Mack grumbles as he stares at the message, rubbing at one eye as he blearily tries to process what he’s seeing. Jetlag still has control over his entire system, so all he’s able to respond with is a ‘?’ that Will reads, but doesn’t deign to start responding to. Bastard.
Clicking the screen off once more, Mack wedges the device under his pillows and tries to get back to sleep, sinking into the darkness of his room. If Will isn’t going to communicate, Mack can’t help him. He’s too tired to care about being a bitch right now.
And then there’s a knock at his door and Mack bolts upright, eyes wide. There’s no way, right? Mack’s not even sure how Will could’ve gotten in, knows from some of the whispers already floating around that only certain IDs can get you into and out of the building grounds.
He knows American ones aren’t on that list.
Mack tugs his phone out from under his pillow, somewhat surprised to see a message from one of his team. Kurashev. It’s nothing more beyond a wink emoji and that’s the exact moment Mack remembers that, oh yeah, he has teammates in this building, and, oh yeah, those same teammates are down bad for Will.
With a disbelieving huff, Mack stands up from his bed and crosses to the door. It’s open for all of two seconds before Will’s barrelling his way inside, eyes wide and breathing heavy. Mack kicks the door shut, attention already turned to Will. “You good?”
“No. I’m gonna be honest… think I just saw Jack Hughes? You reckon he’s following me to get me in trouble?” Will questions. Mack can’t help but snort at that. He doesn’t mean to, obviously, forgets that Will isn’t part of all the hockey shit like Mack is, doesn’t know the reasons why Jack would bother showing up here, but it’s still funny. Will crosses his arms over his chest, obviously disagreeing. “What?”
“If you seriously think Jack Hughes is trailing you to get you in trouble, you must not have eyes,” Mack says. Will tilts his head, confused puppy, and Mack’s heart clenches sweetly. Will’s adorable. Mack steals a kiss from his lips before he finally gives Will his explanation. Well, sort of. “You know Jack’s captain?”
“Nico?” Will asks. Mack nods and goes to speak further when Will’s eyes shoot comically wide. Mack giggles as he watches Will go through realisation after realisation. Understanding dawns on his face. “Oh… oh.”
“Yeah,” Mack says with a giggle. It’s a league secret, and a poorly kept one at that. Mack isn’t sure he’s ever seen two people with bigger on-ice heart eyes than those two. Dreads to imagine how bad they are off the ice. “And besides, even if Jack wasn’t here to do whatever with his fiancé, he’s a good guy.”
“If you trust him, then so do I,” Will says with a megawatt grin. It lasts a handful of seconds before he’s bullying his way into Mack’s space, lips pressing together as he tries to claim more and more of Mack’s touch. He grumbles, “come on, kiss me back.”
Mack pulls away, ignoring the way his heart clenches at Will’s frown. “You clearly want more tonight and I’m not… I’m not in the mood. I’m too tired, okay?” Mack clarifies. He’d only gotten there that morning, and then he’d been dragged through the opening ceremony. Will, on the other hand, has already been christened by the ice-cold rink and the chill of Italian air, jetlag long gone from his system.
“Oh,” Will says, his pout deepening until his bottom lip juts out in something that’s borderline professional with how easily it makes Mack want to crumble. He tries to resist for a handful of extra seconds, but it’s no use. He gives in, the eager need to comfort Will overtaking him in seconds.
“I’m not kicking you out, baby. Never.”
“Oh, thank god,” Will breathes. He settles for pulling Mack into his arms instead, and Mack lets him, melts into the intensity of his hold, lets Will hold him secure and stable. It’s reassuring, both the pressure of Will’s touch and the rich scent of his cologne.
Mack wonders if Will refreshed it before leaving the Winter House.
“What time’s your team event thingy tomorrow?” Mack questions, face still firmly buried in Will’s neck. Will sighs, mutters out a little ‘stop talking’, so Mack complies, lets Will get all he wants from the hug before he tries to start another conversation with him.
Will pulls back first, of course, and he smiles again, softer this time, friendly in the way that had gotten everyone on Mack’s team back in San Jose completely and utterly whipped upon first meeting him. And Mack’s just as bad, so he kisses Will about it, welcomes the shocked little nose that seeps out from between Will’s lips.
“We should stop, otherwise I’m gonna get horny again,” Will mutters. Mack sighs and reluctantly steps back. He wanted to keep kissing, but he really is too tired for anything more vigorous. If Will needs the space, Mack can give it. “In fact, like… I think I need some fresh air.”
“You wanna go out onto the flag pathways? Should be cooler there, and quiet,” Mack suggests. Will thinks it over for a few seconds before agreeing. He shucks his hoodie off and tosses it towards Mack, the fabric all red, white and blue as it splays across Mack’s fingers, before he snatches the discarded one Mack had been wearing when he arrived.
“Put it on,” Will says, gesturing at his abandoned jacket as his head pokes through the black hood. Mack swallows down the wave of butterflies that form in his stomach at the sight of Will in his team merch, 71 proudly displayed over his heart. He hesitates for a few seconds before he throws the team USA hoodie over his head.
The material is warm, traces of Will’s body heat and his scent clinging to the fabric, and Mack can’t help but hum happily. He lets Will press him against the wall and kiss him seconds later before he pushes back, tugs his hood over his head, and all but drags Will from his temporary bedroom.
“You never answered my question,” Mack says as he pushes open the door. Cold air greets them almost immediately, and Mack shivers, using his free hand to tug the collar of his borrowed hoodie up higher.
“What was it again?” Will says, long legs already crossing over to the windows where the Canadian flags are, Mack being dragged along behind him, half-stumbling. Despite Mack’s clumsiness, Will never loses his grace, his elegance, and Mack’s not surprised. Will is a figure skater, after all. Thinks that’s kind of their whole schtick.
“When’s your event tomorrow?”
“Oh uh…” Will trails off before he pulls out his phone. He deftly navigates it as he sits down, Mack joining him, before he triumphantly flips the screen so Mack can see it. “Seven forty-five.”
“Oh, cool. I’ll be there,” Mack says, easy and relaxed, eyes closing as he leans back against the Canadian flag-covered glass. Will tenses next to him and Mack resists the urge to panic himself. He’s not sure he succeeds. “If you want me there, that is.”
“Of course I do, but, like… isn’t it unsafe for you to come out?” Will questions. That gets Mack to open his eyes again, brows pinching together as he turns to face Will. He’s flushed, head bowed, fingers picking at the half-ruined edges of his phone case. Oh, Mack wishes he didn’t feel such love for this idiotic mess of a man sometimes.
“Me showing up to watch you skate doesn’t mean I’m coming out,” Mack says. He sits up, moving around until he’s in front of Will, their knees pressed together. Will peers up at him through his lashes, curls settled serenely across his forehead. Prettiest boy he’s ever seen, Mack reckons. “I’m just supporting a friend. And if that friend just so happens to have three letters in front of it, then, well…”
Mack shrugs and hopes his silly little speech is working. Its half frazzled, doesn’t make any sense, definitely plucked from the reaches of his jetlag-addled brain, but Will smiles at him moments later, and Mack relaxes. He lets the tension ease from his shoulders and then Will’s kissing him, and well. Mack’s not going reject him, is he?
“Please be there tomorrow,” Will mutters against his lips, and Mack hums his affirmation, presses his mouth fixedly against Will’s, and let’s any thoughts of competition slip from his mind.
After all, he’s still got a few days to go until he has to compete. He can have his fun for now.
𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘
Mack’s swiping through all the photos and videos he took that day, eyes lingering longer on the ones of Will, the ones that take up about eighty percent of the entire collection, when Will’s text appears.
can i come over?
Without hesitation, Mack sends a yes, snatches his ID card from the bedside table, and crosses to the door. Without even checking to see who’s in the hallways, and without caring too either, Mack exits and makes his way to the main gates. Will’s there already, and Mack can’t help but fondly roll his eyes.
“Eager, are we?” Mack says as he scans his card, opening the gate for Will to come through. He’s immediately by Mack’s side, usually sparkling eyes dull. Mack frowns. “You okay?”
“Not here,” Will mutters, shaking his head, and Mack’s panic only twists higher and sharper. He loops his arm through Will’s, guiding him through the corridors, past a bunch of athletes Mack doesn’t know, and a handful that he does, before they find Mack’s room again. His anxiety doesn’t shake away even one bit.
“Sit, make yourself at home,” Mack says. He sifts through the small bag on his desk, procuring a bottle of sports drink, some Italian brand he doesn’t recognise that is apparently Olympic athlete approved, and passes it to Will. “Drink, and then tell me what’s wrong.”
“Can I have your hoodie?” Will asks, and it’s the quietest Mack’s ever heard him. He frowns but wastes no time in tugging the Sharks hoodie off, handing it to Will in complacent silence. Will quickly changes out of his own hoodie before he sighs and pops the cap on the drink. He doesn’t take a sip. “I think I’m gonna fuck this all up.”
“You won’t,” Mack says, fast in his reassurance and even faster in his belief. “I mean… you could, but I’m confident you won’t.” He sinks onto the sheets next to Will, curling an arm around Will’s shoulders and tugging him in until he’s firmly nestled in Mack’s side. He sighs, and Mack feels the warmth of it trickle up his skin.
“I don’t wanna let the team down,” Will confesses, and Mack has to bite his lip to stop himself from whimpering. He understands that feeling all too well, knows the amount of pressure riding on his shoulders, the expectations dotting his every step.
“I get it,” Mack offers. Will looks up at him, eyes wet with tears before he huffs and pulls away, dragging the rough cuffs of Mack’s hoodie sleeves across his face. He sniffles and apologises, leaving Mack confused. “Why are you apologising?”
“You literally have so much more pressure, and I’m just… sobbing on your shoulder like a loser,” Will says. Mack frowns again. “I’m sorry. Like… not to sound harsh, but at least I’ve won the major trophies in my sport. I know that, like, you can’t really say the same, and like… sorry.”
Mack’s heart aches at the reminder of how insubordinate his team is, but he doesn’t blame Will for speaking the truth. He pulls Will back in, all but manhandling him until they’re laying on Mack’s bed, Will’s head on his chest and their legs tangled together. Easy, comforting, relaxing. Will peers up at him again, eyes wet with unshed tears.
With one hand gently carding through Will’s curls, Mack sighs. “You’re allowed to be upset, you know? Just because you’ve objectively done more than me, doesn’t mean that you can’t still get in your own head and shit. This is the fucking Olympics, dude. You don’t get to do ‘em every year. But you gotta snap out of this lil funk, because baby? You’ve already proven yourself by twenty five percent.”
“Huh?” Will questions. Mack smiles at the furrow of Will’s brows and gently brushes his thumb along the wrinkled skin. Will relaxes until his touch, face smoothing out as his eyes slip closed in a show of trust, of faith, of love.
“You got the team event short program out of the way. Done, dusted, finished at the top. You can do it again for the solo competition. But you can also nail the free skate tomorrow, and not only can you, but I know you will. You’re stubborn, Will. If you wouldn’t let me hold you back from your dreams, why would you let yourself?” Mack says. Some part of him is starting to understand why his team thinks he should be captain now. He’s kind of getting better with the motivational speeches.
“I hate that your idol was Sidney Crosby growing up. You shouldn’t be this wise at nineteen,” Will says, voice muffled from where’s buried his face in the dip of Mack’s chest. Mack chuckles fondly and continues his soft curl stroking. Steady, patient, until Will sits up, dislodging Mack’s hand. “Thank you.”
Mack smiles. “Any time. Now come back here, I wanna kiss you.”
“I kinda wanna do something else,” Will says, shifting his hips, even as he leans down to kiss Mack like requested. Mack whimpers softly against Will’s mouth, all too aware of the power of Will’s hips. He blindly reaches for Will’s waist, grip tight when he finally curls his hands around it.
“Please,” Mack breathes, shivering faintly when he feels Will’s fond huff of laughter skirt over his lips. He pops one eye open, stares up at the unblemished planes of Will’s gorgeous face. Mack’s gut squirms with want and he can’t stop himself from bucking his hips up, desperate for what Will’s offering. Will gasps, and Mack begs again, another simple “please.”
Will smirks and leans in once more, giving, giving, giving.