Chapter Text
It’s only been four days. Five, if you count the additional day that Will fucked off early to visit the beanpot his brother played in, but whatever. It’s been four days since Mack left for the airport to fly to Milan with Team Canada, and he’s already missing Will like a missing limb.
Will is still in Boston right now, visiting his family and probably still celebrating the BC beanpot win with old BC buddies. They facetime and text daily, but Mack is busy with team practice, visiting other events and sightseeing Milan with his teammates before things get serious. For the first time in months, he and Will find themselves in drastically different timelines.
It’s kind of hard not to be in each other's pockets 24/7.
The only thing that makes it better is that Will seems to miss him just as much. He’s constantly texting or facetiming in the few hours their daytimes overlap. When Mack wakes up in the mornings, he has at least five new memes waiting for him, all courtesy of Will.
HIs teammates have caught up to the fact that he’s glued to his phone when they’re not in the gym or on the ice, and Sid practically has to force him to partake in team bonding activities, like right now.
It’s just after noon, and the guys want to go out to eat something in the Olympic village, but it’s also around the time Will usually wakes up. He’s been sleeping a little bit longer now that he’s basically on a break, but Mack doesn’t want to risk missing him when he makes his morning call.
Still, he’s only 19, the youngest in a team full of veterans, so he can’t really refuse a direct request for team bonding. He has enough common sense to know that. Doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather text with Will instead.
So he bites the bullet, changes into his Team Canada sherpa jacket and steps out with Sid and the others.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ 🦆 ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
They’re gathered in a little lunch spot that’s selling green smoothies and sandwiches with lots of chicken and vegetables.
Marchand is in the midst of dishing out juicy tea about the Tkachuk brothers, and normally Mack would be all over that, but his phone buzzes in his pocket before he can get to the end of the story.
Discreetly, he tugs his phone out of his jacket and looks at the screen under the table.
Automatically, a grin splits across his whole face, and he’s about to type his reply when Marner snatches the phone out of his hand.
“Who’s got you smiling that?” He teases. “Secret girlfriend texting you?”
Mack’s face does that unfortunate thing where it gets all red and blotchy with embarrassment.
“No.” He mumbles resolutely. “Will just texted. He just woke up.”
The whole table is tense for a few precarious seconds before it lights up in laughter. Chirps keep coming at him from all sides.
“Damn Celly, you two can’t even be separated during the Olympics, huh? Where’s your country spirit? Everyone who's not Canadian is the enemy right now.”
Sid—the only one who knows he’s been texting Will this whole time—lets out a long suffering sigh and shakes his head, smiling fondly.
“Leave him alone, guys.” Sid saves him from further embarrassment. “They’re just going through separation anxiety right now, it’s normal.” …or not.
Mack is temporarily stunned, disbelieving that Sid would do him dirty like that. His mouth is gaping open in shock, sandwich forgotten at the table.
He’s saved from saying something to regain his dignity by his phone ringing, still clutched in Marner’s hand, a facetime request from Will.
He snatches his phone from Marner and books it out of there to the sounds of more laughter, but couldn’t care less as he hastily accepts the call.
“Hi.” Is the first word out of Mack’s mouth. Will is still in bed in his childhood bedroom, an old Patrick Kane poster visible above his headboard. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” Will naturally responds, voice gravelly and still think with sleep. “What took you so long though? You totally left me on read.” He pouts.
“Sorry.” Mack is quick to reassure. “The guys stole my phone.” He whines. “Apparently I’m not allowed to talk to any Americans during the Olympics. Which is bullshit, I know Marner definitely meets up with Matthews somewhere…”
Will laughs on the other end, the sounds melodic and easing the tightness in Mack’s chest that’s been there since the guys teased him for texting Will.
“But I’m not any American now, am I?” Will asks cheekily. Before Mack can figure out what to reply, a loud honk disrupts his thoughts.
“What…what the hell was that?” Mack asks, apprehensive.
“Oh god, that.” Will laments. “So, I know it sounds absolutely crazy, but I think I’m being followed by a goose?” His forehead wrinkles adorably, coupled with the disbelieving tilt of his mouth.
A foreboding feeling spreads through Mack. A goose? It couldn’t be…right?
“A Goose.” Mack states blandly.
“Yes, Mack, a fucking goose! It suddenly appeared in our backyard, just after I got home from the airport. It’s only been glaring at me so far, but yesterday I went out to throw out the trash and it fucking attacked me! Look!”
Will holds his arm up to the camera so Mack can see the beak shaped wound, blood already dried and half heartedly covered with an Avengers bandaid. “It was bleeding! And it’s still outside my stupid bedroom window and honking at me every few minutes. I’m going insane.”
Mack's heart breaks at that moment. What Will’s describing…
“Oh.” He exhales. “Looks like you got your Soulmate Goose”.
“My what?”
“Your Soulmate Goose? That’s gonna guide you to your soulmate? C’mon, You must’ve heard the stories.” Mack tries to act nonchalant.
“Okay cut the crap Mack, what are you on—soulmates? You can’t be serious.” Will insist. His eyebrows are set in a frown, and he looks like he can’t decide between being concerned, confused and panicked.
“I am! It’s a Canadian thing. Ask Gabe about it if you don’t believe me.” Mack tells him, slightly pissed that Will doesn’t trust him on this.
“Oh, I will!” Will threatens. “You better not tell me crap.”
Will ends the call, presumably to text Gabe, and Mack is left pacing in the back alley of the lunch place.
He'd love to cross his arms over his chest in a sad attempt to distance himself from the situation, but he needs to hold the phone in one hand. So instead he settles for tugging his hood down low and taking deep breaths. After what feels like eternity but is only at maximum five minutes, his phone buzzes again.
“Okay, so you might be on to something.” Will admits as he lets out a breath. “Gabe said Soulmate Gooses were legit but rare, so, I’m choosing to believe this, I guess.”
Mack is silent for long enough that Will speaks up again. “So, what do I do then? I can’t go out to follow the Goose, it’ll try to kill me again.”
Mack snorts at the mental image. “It won’t.” He promises. “The Geese can tell when you’re willing to follow them to your soulmate. It will only hurt you when you stray from the path.” He says matter of factly.
“This is absolute bonkers.” Will mutters, more to himself than to Mack. With almost comedic timing, the Goose honks again. “Why is the goose even bothering me? You said it was a Canadian thing—I’m in Massachusetts!"
“Could be for a couple different reasons.” Mack mumbles. He doesn’t really want to think about what kind of soulmate Will will end up having. “So only a few special people get to meet their soulmate via Canadian Goose, but they’re only able to see it when they turn 20. So I guess it’s because of your soulmate. They must be Canadian and younger than you, for the Goose to come to you instead.”
“He.” Will tells him after a slight hesitation. “Pretty sure it’s gonna be a he.”
When Mack doesn’t say anything, Will barrels on. “I mean, not a they. I’m pretty sure my soulmate will be a he.”
“Oh.” Mack blushes, and looks at his sneakers instead of Will’s face. “That’s cool, I guess.”
“Yeah?” Will asks again. When Mack finally raises his head to look at his phone screen, Will is blushing adorably. He looks unsure in a way that is so untypical for him.
“Yeah, Smitty. It’s cool. We’re good, you don’t have to worry about that.” Mack assures him. “What you should worry about is finding your soulmate. I’ve heard that Soulmate Geese can even break into your house if you wait too long to follow them.”
As if the Goose heard Mack, it makes a loud quack, followed by a yelp from Will and the sound of rustling sheets. In the chaos, Will loses his phone, and Mack is temporarily treated to the underside of Will's bed before the call accidentally disconnects.
Mack clicks out of the chat and sighs. Fuck.
Will is actually going to find his soulmate, now that Mack is out of the picture and all the way in Milan. The Goose must’ve waited until he left to appear to Will. He bets that even the Goose knows Mack would’ve been too selfish to allow Will to follow it, instead trying to keep him to himself for as long as he can.
He’s known about his crush on Will for a while now. At the start, it seemed like a hopeless and pointless endeavour, and he’d told himself to snap out of it. But then Will unknowingly encouraged his crush with all the little things he did and never stopped doing. He’d memorized Mack’s coffee order, even though it varied through all the different coffee spots they frequent. He asked Mack to hang out even more times than Mack asked him, and he was the first one to suggest staying the night, back in April when one afternoon of chel escalated long past midnight.
He's so god damn touchy all the time. Always with an arm around his shoulder, his waist, or just straight up plastered to his back and looking over his shoulder when Mack's playing on his phone.
All that is to say, Will’s made it really fucking hard to get over him.
But now he’s got his Soulmate Goose, and is on the verge of his happy ever-after, all while Mack isn’t even in the picture, let alone in the same country.
He runs his hands through his hair, a nervous habit he picked up from Toff during rookie season and never quite grew out of. He pockets his phone and treks back into the food joint, head hung low.
He must look as dejected and heartbroken as he feels, because the guys pick up on his mood immediately.
“Is everything alright? Is Will okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine.” Mack croaks out. He's mortified to realise that he’s about to cry. “He met his Soulmate Goose.”
The guy’s ohh and ahhh in excitement that would be perfectly warranted—granted that they’re all Canadian and grew up with the stories, some even finding their wife through the Goose—if Mack didn’t feel like someone ripped his heart out with a dull knife and roughly closed the stitches.
“Man, good for him!” Seth yells across the table.
“Does this mean Mack is allowed to talk to him now?”
“What the fuck do you mean by that, MacKinnon?” Marchand asks.
“Think about it.” McKinnon leans forward on the table, excited to share with them the brilliance of his mind. “Smith got a Goose, yeah? Therefore his soulmate is obviously Canadian. So he goes over there, meets her, marries her—boom, he’s got Canadian citizenship. Alas, Mack is allowed to talk to him again.”
Oh god, Mack is going to be sick. He thought he could do this, but turns out he can’t. The thought of Will marrying some faceless dude or chick, even though Will told him it was probably a dude—no, just, no.
He stumbles out of the booth, ignoring the concerned voices of his teammates.
He can’t do this right now. He has a game to play tonight.
He shakes his head, shoving all of his thoughts in a nice little box to the back of his brain, and stomps to their quarters. He has to lock in, they have to win this. He can’t afford to be distracted by Will.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ 🦆 ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Sid had tried to talk to him before the game, but Mack successfully shook him off.
Now that the game is over though, a 5-0 win over Czechia where Mack had even scored the first goal, all the thoughts he thought he’d buried deep come rushing back when he sees the message notifying him that Will texted. He’s too scared to open his phone.
He’s back in his Team Canada sweats and hoodie after a shower, hood already pulled low and strings pulled tight, blocking out the world around him. He’s white knuckling his phone in his lap.
As if mocking him, it buzzes again, Will adding to the string of messages already visible on the logscreen.
Fuck, Mack thinks. This amount of messages can only mean one thing, and that thing is Will found his soulmate.
Unprompted, tears well up in his eyes, and Mack pulls the hood tighter around him, hoping none of his teammates can see.
They just won the game, for fucks sake, there’s no reason for him to cry. He should be smiling with joy and celebrating with his teammates over their shutout win.
From under his hoodie, Mack can vaguely make out a shadow moving closer to him. He blinks, and suddenly there’s Sidney Crosby, kneeling in front of him and looking at him in obvious concern, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder.
Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe Mack’s emotions right now.
“Hey, you alright, kid?” Sid asks.
Mack nods, convincing nobody, and wipes away the wetness in his eyes before it becomes actual tears. “Yeah, I’m good.” Mack croaks out.
Sid just looks at him, unimpressed.
“Look, kid, I want to help you. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s just,” Mack actually hiccups—god this is so embarrassing, he’ll never recover from this—”Just some personal stuff, y’know. I’ll get through it. Don’t worry about me.”
“Is everyone in your family alright? It’s okay if—”
“God, no! They’re all fine, it’s stupid anyway. I shouldn’t be this hung up about it. It was clear he was going to find someone else someday I—” Mack stops, realising what he just said.
“I mean—”
“It’s okay, Mack.” Sid’s hand on his shoulder tightens, the warm hand reassuring amidst the panic. “We’re going to talk about this, okay? It’s clear you need to get something off your chest. But…” He looks around the locker room that’s still half full. “Not here, yeah? Follow me.”
Dutifully and still a hundred percent mortified, Mack follows Sid down the tunnel until they’ve reached an area that looks like it’s still in construction.
It doesn’t necessarily appear safe to linger in, but at least they’re alone here.
“Is this about Will then? Finding his soulmate?” Sid hits the nails on the head right away.
Mack only nods and fiddles with the strings on his hoodie.
“I know I should be happy for him, but...but—” He can’t say it.
Turns out he doesn’t have to, because Sid finishes for him. “But you love him, and you wish that it was you instead.”
Ashamed, Mack nods his head and looks down at his feet, annoyed when new tears prickle in the corner of his eyes.
“I tried not to.” He admits, voice wet and pathetic. “But he's just so… impossible not to love, I guess. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in my life, and now he got a Goose, and it's going to lead him to someone that's not me, and I, I don’t know how to live with that.”
“There’s no need to rush to that conclusion and panic. Will hasn’t found his soulmate yet, right?”
“I haven’t checked my phone.” Mack grumbles, only a half affirmation.
“So how do you know that the Goose isn’t going to lead Will right to you?” Sid counters.
Mack hadn’t considered that before. But that’s dangerous territory to go to. This is the kind of thinking that will leave him even more heartbroken if it inevitably turns out to be false.
Just because Mack felt like he’s already spent the last two years alongside his soulmate doesn’t mean that Will felt like he has, too.
“The Goose arrived as soon as I was gone.” Mack tries to explain. “It came right when I was finally out of the way. This way, the Goose could finally get to Will to lead him to his soulmate.”
“Or,” Sid stresses. “You two were finally apart for more than two days so the Goose had to intervene to get you back together.”
Mack purses his lips. It could be a possibility. But then again it could just be more wishful thinking.
His phone buzzes again, signaling yet another message from Will.
“C’mon, check your phone.” Sid urges gently. “You’ll not be able to focus on anything until you know, and I’ll be here for whatever is going to be in those messages, okay?”
“Okay.” Mack says shakily, before he finally unlocks his phone.
“See?” Sid bumps his shoulder after Mack showed him the messages. “Maybe he’s coming for you after all.”
Mack blushes at the idea. If only that were true.
It’s only when they sit in the bus that’s going to take them back to the Olympic Village that Mack finds the time to respond.
Inadvertently, Mack feels something loosen in his chest. Will is still at home, or at least hasn’t gotten further than the airport. He’s still a plane ride away from his soulmate, so maybe Will can stay his just for a little bit longer.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ 🦆 ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Thankfully Canada’s next game is scheduled for late evening, so that gives him time to wait around for Will’s call around midday.
The team, perhaps helped by a bit of nudging from Sid, realises that Mack would rather be alone for now, and so they leave him be while they scout out another Italian place after morning practise.
While practice helped a bit with the jittery nervous energy, now that he literally has nothing to do besides wait for Will’s call, he’s getting twitchy and angsty again. His legs refuse to sit still and he’s wringing his hands like a maniac, picking up his phone and then dropping it back down again when he realises that for Will it’s only 5 am.
He resigns to take a long walk around the area, both to have something to do and to get his mind off things. He shares his location with Captain Canada, together with the words 'I'll just be on a walk, don' t worry’ and moves to get out of his hotel room.
Italy turns out to be steeper than he realised, and the walk soon turns into a bit of a hike as the winter sun rises above him. He’s careful not to walk too far away and risk getting lost or worse, risk losing signal.
He’s listening to country music over his headphones—the same ones Will told him to get after he tried out the model for the first time—and stares out over the vast Italian landscape as his music interrupts.
Puzzled, Mack fishes his phone out of his pocket and sees that he has an incoming facetime call from Will. He nearly drops his phone in his haste to accept the call.
“Hi.” He waves at Will through the camera, cool as a cucumber.
“Hey, Mack.” Will squints at his phone. “Where the hell are you?”
“Me? Uh, I don’t know. Somewhere in Italy I guess.” Mack grins cheekily and shrugs his shoulders. He’l find the way back. Probably.
Will laughs from where he’s obviously standing in the lobby of the Boston Logan International Airport. “Only you, I swear. Don’t get lost, idiot.”
“I won’t, that’s your job.” Mack jokes. “So you made it to the airport, huh?”
“Yeah, oh my god, you won’t believe it, but the goose fucking led me to the international departure!” Will stresses. “I don’t have time to apply for a visa or anything, what do I do?!”
Mack looks at him, disappointed. “I told you you’d have to fly to Canada! Of course it’s the international departure!”
“No, you don’t get it.” Will insists. “Different airlines have different check-in counters, right? Well this goose led me straight to all the European ones. I don’t think I’m gonna be flying to Canada, Mack.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Mack thinks out loud. “Why would you need to fly to Europe?"
“I don’t know, buddy, but unless this bird is sending me on a wild goose chase—pun fully intended—I’m flying to Europe.” The goose honks approvingly at Will’s words, just out of camera. Now that he’s actively looking, Mack can see the weird looks people sent at Will over their shoulders because he’s got a Goose in tow.
“And unless the US has become the 30th EU state overnight, I need a visa to enter wherever country I end up in.”
“The EU only has 27 states, you dumbass.” Mack deadpans.
Before Will can send him the unimpressed look Mack knows is coming, something else catches Will attention just behind the camera.
Mack can make out two elderly voices with a Canadian accent, approaching Will with concern before Will abruptly ends the call.
Stunned, Mack looks back at his phone, but the screen is still blank. He tries to call Will again, but the blond doesn’t pick up.
“What the fuck.” Mack mutters to himself.
Then he sees the time on his lockscreen. “Shit!” He yells and immediately jumps up and starts running. He’s going to be so fucking late of he got lost.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ 🦆 ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
Just before the game, Will texts him again. Mack, who felt so guilty for almost being late to their teammeeting, doesn’t see the texts until after the game against Switzerland.
He’s probably having the most fun that he’s had playing hockey in a long time, but the messages quickly dim his spirits a bit.
And Mack doesn’t know what he can say to that, so he leaves Will on read for the moment and slumps back onto his bed, sore and completely exhausted after the game. He’s been checked into the boards more than usual today, and he’S feeling it.
According to the messages, Will's been waiting at the airport for a while now. Mack wonders if he's getting bored yet, or nervous and just too proud to admit it.
Mack would definitely be shitting his pants if he had to wait in suspense for hours as more and more planes fly by and the Goose doesn't make a move to indicate his flight was next.
But Will's always been more chill than him, anyway, so maybe he really is as calm and collected as he’d like Mack to believe.
The good thing is, though, that Will still hasn't found his soulmate. Which means Mack gets to keep his best friend for just another day.
In light of this, Mack used the opportunity to continue texting Will, just sending him some stupid means or telling him all about what it’s been like at the Olympics so far. Sadly, at some point the exhaustion of the last few days catches up to him.
His whole body feels bruised and sore, and his eyes are burning in his effort to keep them open against the bright light of his phone screen.
He's fighting a battle against his body, trying to stay up long past his bedtime just to talk to Will for a little while longer, but eventually he falls asleep just as he's about to send Will another I miss you.
When Mack wakes up, there are two new messages waiting for him.
Mack reads the texts and can’t help but snort. God, Will is so ridiculous, but also so, so endearing.
But then he remembers what it means—that Will is actually on his way to Europe right now—and his heart drops all the way to his gut.
Will didn't even tell him where he’s going, the idiot, probably way too occupied with dealing with a constantly honking Goose and his own nerves.
God, Mack feels like he's breaking out in hives all over.
His jaw aches with how hard he’s clenching it, and it takes a conscious effort to unhinge it again.
Thankfully, they have a day off today, only playing France tomorrow, so at least this little breakdown won't affect his game.
He checks the time and sees that Will is probably still above the clouds somewhere over the Atlantic, which gives him about three more hours until Will lands in the country of his soulmate and Mack loses him forever.
This is fine.
This is totally fine.
Mack can deal with it. Do that compartmentalising thing he’s heard thrown around. Get his mind back to hockey, back to the Olympics, and far away from Will and his stupid Canadian Goose.
Chapter end note: Where could Will possibly have flown to? I don’t know…
This turned out a lot more angsty than I anticipated, but I promise it's going to be so much fluffier in the future! I hoped you liked the little chat message coding thingy, I thought I’d try it out for once, since this fic includes so many chat messages, I definitely had lots of fun with it!