Chapter Text
The first thing Mack noticed when he moved into the house next door was that Will had terrible curtains.
Not ugly curtains.
Worse.
Boring curtains.
Plain grey. Expensive, probably, but aggressively neutral in a way that offended Mack on a personal level.
“You live like a divorced accountant,” he informed him while standing in the doorway with a beer in hand.
Will looked up from where he was building an entertainment unit on the floor. “You walked into my house without knocking.”
“The door was open.”
“You have your own house.”
“Yeah, but your TV is bigger.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And your curtains suck.”
The houses had gone up for sale at the exact same time during their third season together in San Jose.
Two modern places side-by-side in a quiet neighbourhood twenty minutes from the rink.
Will had sent Mack the listing as a joke.
Mack had bought his within forty-eight hours.
Will bought the other one the next day.
Neither of them acknowledged how insane that was.
Now their houses blurred together so completely that most people stopped asking which one they were currently in.
Mack’s fridge held half of Will’s groceries. Will’s laundry somehow ended up folded in Mack’s drawers. They had matching coffee machines because Mack had complained that carrying mugs between houses every morning was “logistically stupid.”
They still roomed together on road trips, even when most players were in singles
Still ended up side-by-side at every team dinner, every flight, every event.
Nobody questioned it anymore.
Actually, that was a lie.
Everybody questioned it.
Constantly.
“You know married couples spend less time together than you two, right?” Toff said one afternoon, watching Mack walk straight into Will’s kitchen and start making coffee without asking.
Mack didn’t even look up. “We’re efficient.”
“You’re codependent.”
“We’re streamlined.”
Will snorted into his drink.
Toff pointed between them. “See, this is what I mean. You have shared vocabulary.”
“We play professional hockey together,” Will said. “That’s normal.”
“No,” Toff replied. “What’s not normal is the fact that Mack has a fingerprint unlock on your front door.”
“That was your idea,” Mack pointed out.
Will shrugged. “Yeah, because you kept forgetting your keys.”
“Because I live here half the time.”
“You live next door.”
“Semantics.”
Toff stared at them for a long moment.
Then muttered, “You idiots are either going to get married or kill each other.”
Mack grinned immediately. “Bold of you to assume those are mutually exclusive.”
Will laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink.
That was the problem, really.
It was always easy with them.
Too easy.
That was what made it dangerous.
Because somewhere along the line, without either of them meaning to, everything had shifted slightly off-centre.
Not enough to acknowledge.
Enough to ruin them both quietly.
Mack knew exactly when it had happened.
Outdoor game in Seattle. Two seasons ago.
Cold enough that everyone’s hands hurt even through gloves. They’d gotten back to the hotel late after a win, adrenaline still buzzing under their skin. Will had sprawled across the second hotel bed in sweatpants and no shirt, hair still damp from the shower.
Mack had looked over while laughing at something Will said and suddenly forgotten how to breathe correctly.
Nothing had happened.
That was the worst part.
Nothing ever happened.
They just kept orbiting each other like two idiots waiting for the other one to blink first.
Or maybe hoping neither of them ever would.
“Earth to Mack.”
Mack blinked.
Will was standing in his kitchen now, waving a hand in front of his face.
“You alive?”
“Unfortunately.”
Will eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve been staring at the same email for like five minutes.”
“Maybe I love emails.”
“You don’t even answer texts.”
“That’s because people text stupid things.”
Will walked over to the fridge like he owned the place.
Which, honestly, he practically did.
“You’re out of eggs,” he announced.
“You ate my eggs yesterday.”
“Yeah, but now you’re out.”
Mack watched him move around the kitchen with frustrating familiarity. Bare feet against hardwood. One of Mack’s hoodies hanging loose over athletic shorts.
Will stole his clothes constantly.
Not because he had to.
Because neither of them acknowledged it anymore.
Mack rubbed a hand over his face.
“You know,” Will said casually, pulling orange juice from the fridge, “my mum asked if we were secretly married.”
Mack choked on absolutely nothing.
“She what?”
“At dinner last week.” Will grinned. “She said, and I quote, ‘normal teammates do not voluntarily grocery shop together.’”
“We went once.”
“You made a spreadsheet.”
“It was efficient.”
Will laughed.
Mack hated how much he loved that sound.
“Charlie’s worse,” Mack muttered.
Will brightened instantly. “Oh yeah?”
“She asked if we were planning to synchronise retirement announcements.”
Will nearly dropped the orange juice laughing.
“She’s got a point,” he said.
“Traitor.”
“You literally scheduled our dentist appointments back-to-back.”
“That was convenient.”
“That was insane.”
Mack pointed at him. “You went to the appointments.”
Will paused.
Then grinned.
“Yeah.”
That was the thing.
Neither of them ever pulled away.
Not really.
They got close enough to make everybody stare and then acted confused when people noticed.
It would have been easier if one of them had been less obvious about it.
But Will looked for Mack first in every room without thinking.
And Mack touched Will constantly.
A hand against his shoulder while squeezing past. Fingers brushing his wrist during conversations. Knuckles against the back of his neck after games.
Small things.
Casual things.
Things that stopped feeling casual a long time ago.
“You ever gonna actually do something about this?” Toff asked one night on a road trip.
Mack nearly dropped his phone.
“What?”
They were in the hotel lobby waiting for Will, who had forgotten his room key for the third time that week.
Toff looked deeply unimpressed. “Please. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“I look at everybody like that.”
“No, you don’t.”
Before Mack could answer, Will appeared around the corner in team sweats.
“There you are,” Mack said immediately.
Will pointed accusingly. “Your fault.”
“How is your missing room key my fault?”
“You distract me.”
Toff made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“See?” he said to nobody in particular. “I’m living in a nightmare.”
Later, in their hotel room, Will lay upside down across his bed scrolling through his phone while Mack pretended to watch SportsCenter.
Pretended being the important word.
“You know,” Will said eventually, “everyone thinking we’re secretly married is getting kind of funny.”
Mack kept his eyes on the TV. “Funny how?”
“At this point I think the equipment staff has us listed as a couple.”
Mack laughed despite himself.
Then Will added, quieter, “My mum asked if I was in love with you.”
The room went still.
Mack looked over slowly.
Will was still staring at his phone.
“What’d you say?”
Will’s mouth twitched slightly. “Asked if she wanted the truth or the easy answer.”
Mack’s heartbeat kicked hard enough to hurt.
“And?”
“And then I changed the subject.”
Neither of them looked away first.
That was the problem with them.
Everything important lived in pauses.