Work Text:
the first thing mackl noticed about san jose in the summer was that the light felt different near the water.
it wasn’t like vancouver light, soft and gray and always a little misty around the edges. it wasn’t even like boston light, which could glare off brick buildings and frozen sidewalks until everything looked sharper than it needed to. san jose light near the beaches was warm, almost golden, like it had been sitting out all afternoon and decided to melt over everything.
the second thing he noticed was that will smith looked good in it.
which was annoying.
not annoying in a bad way. just annoying in the way that macklin had been trying very hard not to notice things like that.
will was walking ahead of him on the sand with his shoes in one hand, his socks stuffed inside them, and his sunglasses pushed up into his hair. his calves were covered in little wet dots from where the waves had rushed up too fast and caught him. every few seconds he looked over his shoulder at macklin like he was checking to make sure he was still there.
“you walk like an old man,” will called.
macklin looked down at his feet, which were sinking slightly into the damp sand. “i’m literally walking normal.”
“nah. you’re doing the little serious mack walk.”
“the what?”
will turned around and started walking backward. “the serious mack walk. like you’re thinking about faceoffs and taxes.”
macklin snorted. “i don’t think about taxes.”
“yet.”
“you’re weird.”
“you like it.”
macklin looked up at him.
will was smiling. not in a joking way exactly. not fully. there was something softer underneath it, something that made macklin’s brain trip over itself for half a second before recovering.
“yeah,” macklin said, because it was true enough. “you’re alright.”
will rolled his eyes so dramatically that macklin laughed.
they had ended up by the beach because will had texted him that morning with no context except:
be ready in 20. we’re going outside.
macklin had asked where.
will had replied:
outside.
that had apparently meant driving out toward the coast with the windows cracked, music playing too loud, and will singing along badly on purpose until macklin threw a napkin at him from the passenger seat.
now they were here, wandering along the water with no real plan, which was very will. macklin liked plans. he liked knowing what came next. he liked being prepared.
will liked taking a turn because the road looked interesting.
somehow, macklin kept following him anyway.
“we should get food after this,” will said.
“you just had a muffin.”
“that was beach fuel.”
“that’s not a thing.”
“it is if you’re brave enough.”
macklin shook his head, smiling down at the sand.
will slowed until they were walking side by side. for a while, they didn’t talk. the water rushed in and out. people walked dogs near the edge of the beach. somewhere behind them, a kid screamed with pure joy as a wave touched his feet.
will nudged macklin’s shoulder with his own.
macklin nudged him back.
will did it again.
macklin glanced at him. “what?”
“nothing.”
“you’re doing something.”
“i’m walking.”
“you’re shoulder-checking me at the beach.”
“you’re a hockey player. you can handle it.”
“barely.”
will grinned. “i’ll go easy on you.”
macklin shook his head again, but he didn’t move away.
that was the thing about will. he was always there. leaning into his space, laughing too loud, stealing fries off his plate, texting him random thoughts at midnight. macklin had gotten used to it in the way a person got used to the sound of waves. at first, it was something you noticed. then it became part of the background. then one day, you realized you couldn’t sleep without it.
will stopped suddenly.
macklin took two more steps before realizing and turning around. “what?”
will was looking past him, toward a street where people were setting up banners and little booths. rainbow flags hung from poles. a group of people in glittery shirts were carrying boxes. music played faintly somewhere in the distance.
will’s face brightened.
“oh,” he said.
macklin followed his gaze. “what?”
“there’s a pride parade today.”
macklin blinked. “here?”
“yeah. i forgot it was this weekend.” will looked back at him, his expression trying very hard to be casual and failing badly. “we should go.”
macklin didn’t even think about it very long.
“okay.”
will stared at him. “really?”
“yeah. why not?”
“i don’t know. i thought you’d be like, ‘we have practice tomorrow’ or ‘we need hydration’ or whatever.”
“we do need hydration.”
“mack.”
“but we can go.”
will smiled then, wide and real and almost too much. “cool.”
“cool,” macklin said.
will looked away quickly, but not fast enough.
macklin saw the blush.
he assumed it was the sun.
they left the beach and rinsed sand off their feet at the little outdoor shower near the walkway. will hopped around dramatically when the water came out colder than expected, swearing under his breath while macklin laughed so hard he had to grab the railing.
“you’re so supportive,” will said, glaring at him.
“you looked like a baby deer.”
“that was a trauma response.”
“to water?”
“to betrayal.”
macklin was still smiling when will tossed him a towel from the backseat of his car. will had packed one for each of them, because apparently he had known they were going to the beach even though he had refused to say so. macklin dried his feet and watched will dig through the trunk.
“what are you doing?”
“looking.”
“for what?”
“vibes.”
“that’s not an item.”
will pulled out a wrinkled rainbow bandana and held it up triumphantly. “found vibes.”
macklin raised an eyebrow. “you just had that?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
will shrugged, tying it around his wrist. “because.”
“because?”
“because maybe i like rainbows.”
macklin nodded seriously. “bold stance.”
will gave him a look. “you’re impossible.”
“i’m being supportive.”
“you’re being dense.”
“about the rainbow?”
will paused, then laughed under his breath. “yeah, mack. about the rainbow.”
macklin smiled, missing the way will’s eyes lingered on him.
they walked toward the parade as the streets got more crowded. there were flags everywhere. rainbow flags, trans flags, bi flags, pan flags, ace flags, colors macklin recognized and colors he didn’t. people wore face paint and glitter. someone had a dog in a tiny rainbow tutu. a group of older women in matching shirts were dancing near a booth that sold lemonade.
will seemed to glow brighter with every step.
he moved differently here. lighter. like something in him had unclenched. he kept pointing things out to macklin, talking fast, smiling at strangers who smiled back.
“look at that dog,” will said.
“i see it.”
“he’s got better style than both of us.”
“he’s wearing a tutu.”
“exactly.”
macklin looked at will’s bandana. “you’re jealous.”
“maybe.”
they found a spot along the sidewalk just as the parade began moving down the street. music burst louder from a float covered in flowers. people cheered. will clapped, his shoulder pressed against macklin’s arm because the crowd had tightened around them.
macklin told himself the warmth in his chest was just because the whole place felt happy.
will leaned closer so he could be heard over the music. “this is nice, right?”
macklin nodded. “yeah. it’s really nice.”
“like, really nice?”
“yeah.”
will looked at him, eyes bright. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”
macklin smiled. “same. better than going alone.”
will’s smile faltered for half a second.
then he laughed. “yeah. definitely better than going alone.”
a group passed by tossing little rainbow bead necklaces into the crowd. will reached up for one and missed completely. macklin, taller by just enough to be smug about it, caught it with one hand.
will stared at him. “show-off.”
macklin held it out.
will reached for it, but macklin lifted it higher.
“say please.”
will narrowed his eyes. “you’re abusing your height.”
“please?”
“please, macklin celebrini, best hockey player alive, give me the beads you unfairly stole from the sky.”
macklin laughed and lowered them.
instead of taking them, will ducked his head.
macklin froze for half a second.
“oh,” he said.
will looked up through his lashes, smiling like he was trying not to be nervous. “you gonna put them on me or what?”
macklin’s fingers tightened around the beads.
“yeah,” he said, quieter.
he slipped the necklace over will’s head. his knuckles brushed the back of will’s neck for one quick second.
will went still.
macklin noticed that. he noticed the little breath will took. he noticed the way will’s smile became softer, smaller, almost shy.
“there,” macklin said.
will touched the beads with two fingers. “how do i look?”
macklin looked at him.
the sun was behind will now, turning the edges of his hair gold. his cheeks were pink from the heat. the rainbow bandana sat on his wrist, and the beads rested against his shirt like they belonged there.
“good,” macklin said.
will waited.
“really good,” macklin added.
will smiled down at the ground.
for once, he didn’t make a joke.
macklin’s stomach did something weird.
then someone bumped into him, and the moment broke.
will started talking again after that, but macklin caught him looking over more than usual. every time macklin looked back, will would grin like he had been caught doing something but didn’t mind.
halfway through the parade, they found a little stand selling face paint. will dragged him over immediately.
“no,” macklin said.
“yes.”
“will.”
“mack.”
“i’m not getting glitter on my face.”
“you literally play hockey. you get blood on your face.”
“that’s different.”
“you’re right. glitter is cooler.”
macklin crossed his arms. “you get glitter.”
“i will.”
“good.”
“and then you.”
“no.”
will turned to the person at the booth. “can we get a little rainbow heart?”
macklin opened his mouth.
will pointed at himself. “on me. he’s scared.”
“i’m not scared.”
“terrified.”
the person laughed and painted a small rainbow heart on will’s cheek. will held still, eyes flicking toward macklin every few seconds.
when it was done, he turned to macklin. “cute?”
macklin didn’t answer right away.
because it was.
it was so stupidly cute that it made him forget how words worked for a second.
“yeah,” he said. “cute.”
will’s face changed again. that same soft thing. that same look macklin didn’t know how to name.
then will stepped closer and held out the tiny paintbrush the person had handed him.
“your turn.”
macklin sighed. “fine. but no glitter.”
will’s smile went bright. “deal.”
“and not a huge thing.”
“tiny.”
“will.”
“tiny, i swear.”
macklin leaned down a little so will could reach his cheek.
will got quiet.
that was rare enough that macklin almost made a joke, but then the brush touched his skin and he forgot what he was going to say. will’s hand was careful, warm fingers lightly bracing macklin’s jaw so he wouldn’t move.
the world narrowed to that.
the music, the crowd, the laughter, all of it softened around the edges.
will was close enough that macklin could see a tiny fleck of blue in one of his eyes. close enough to count his eyelashes if he wanted to, which he didn’t, obviously, because that would be weird.
he kind of wanted to.
“stop moving,” will murmured.
“i’m not moving.”
“your face is.”
“that doesn’t make sense.”
“your face is loud.”
macklin smiled despite himself.
will groaned. “you’re messing it up.”
“sorry.”
“no, you’re not.”
“no, i’m not.”
will finished painting and stepped back.
“done.”
macklin touched his cheek carefully. “what is it?”
“a heart.”
“you gave me a heart?”
will shrugged, but his ears were red. “tiny.”
macklin looked at him.
will looked back.
“you like hearts?” macklin asked.
will gave him the most tired look in the world. “yeah, mack. i like hearts.”
“cool.”
will stared at him for two whole seconds, then looked up at the sky like he was asking the universe for help.
“what?” macklin asked.
“nothing.”
“you keep saying nothing when it’s something.”
“because it is nothing.”
“that makes no sense.”
“welcome to my life.”
they kept walking.
will bought lemonade for both of them and made macklin try his because “mine tastes more lemony,” even though they had ordered the same thing. macklin tried it anyway. will watched his mouth touch the straw, then looked away so fast macklin almost asked if something was wrong.
after that, they wandered past booths. one had handmade bracelets. one had pins. one had little pride flags in jars like flowers.
will stopped at a table with bracelets made of colored beads. his fingers brushed over a blue, purple, and pink one.
“bi flag,” he said.
macklin nodded.
then will touched a rainbow one, then a pan flag one, then a bracelet with blue and green beads that had no flag meaning macklin knew. will picked that one up.
“this looks like you,” will said.
“me?”
“yeah. ocean boy.”
“ocean boy?”
“you’re always serious near water. like you’re communing with it.”
“i grew up near water.”
“exactly. ocean boy.”
macklin laughed. “that’s terrible.”
will bought the bracelet anyway.
macklin thought it was for him.
then will held it out.
“here.”
macklin blinked. “you bought it for me?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
will’s face went pink again. “because it looked like you.”
“oh.”
“and because i wanted you to have something from today.”
macklin took the bracelet slowly.
the beads were cool against his palm.
something about the way will said it made the day feel bigger than just a day. macklin didn’t know what to do with that, so he did what he always did when he felt too much.
he made a joke.
“so i’m ocean boy now.”
will’s smile was fond, but a little helpless. “yeah, mack. you’re ocean boy.”
macklin slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.
will watched him do it.
“looks good,” will said softly.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
their shoulders brushed again as they moved back into the crowd.
by late afternoon, the parade had started to thin out. people still danced in pockets along the street, and music still carried between buildings, but the sun had dropped lower. the sky had gone peachy at the edges.
will was quieter now.
not sad quiet. just full quiet. like the day had given him too many feelings, and he was trying to hold them all without spilling.
macklin knew that kind of quiet. he got it after big games sometimes, after winning or losing or doing something that mattered. he didn’t always have words right away.
so he didn’t push.
they walked until they found themselves back near the water. not the same part of the beach as before, but close enough to hear the waves. there were fewer people here. a few surfers out in the distance. a couple sitting on a blanket. gulls screaming overhead like they had personal problems.
will sat down in the sand without asking.
macklin sat beside him.
for a while, neither of them spoke.
then will said, “today was one of my favorite days here.”
macklin looked over. “yeah?”
will nodded. “yeah.”
“because of the parade?”
“partly.”
“the lemonade?”
“obviously.”
“the dog in the tutu?”
“major factor.”
macklin smiled. “what else?”
will looked at him then.
and there it was again. that look. that soft, open, terrifying look.
“you,” will said.
macklin’s smile faded a little, not because he was upset, but because the word landed somewhere deep.
“me?”
will laughed quietly. “yeah. you.”
“what did i do?”
“you came with me.”
“you asked.”
“you always say it like that.”
“like what?”
“like it’s simple.”
macklin frowned. “isn’t it?”
will pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “not to me.”
macklin looked down at the bracelet on his wrist.
blue and green beads. ocean boy.
“why not?”
will rested his chin on his knee. for once, he didn’t answer right away.
“because you matter to me,” he said finally. “so when you say yes, it matters.”
macklin went still.
the waves pulled back from the shore with a soft hiss.
will looked away quickly, laughing under his breath, but it sounded nervous. “that was cheesy. forget i said that.”
“i don’t want to forget.”
will looked back at him.
macklin’s heart started beating faster.
he didn’t know why it had taken him all day. maybe longer than all day. maybe months. maybe since the first time will had smiled at him like he was already letting macklin into a place nobody else got to see.
suddenly all the little pieces lined up.
the shoulder nudges. the blushes. the bracelet. the way will kept saying things that sounded like jokes but weren’t really jokes. the way he had looked at macklin while painting a heart on his cheek like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.
macklin was not stupid.
just, apparently, very slow.
“will,” he said.
will swallowed. “yeah?”
macklin tried to figure out the right words.
on the ice, he knew where to go. he could read a play before it happened. he could make decisions fast, clean, sharp.
this was not like that.
this was will sitting beside him in the sand with a rainbow heart on his cheek and nervousness tucked into the corners of his mouth.
this required care.
“were you…” macklin started, then stopped.
will smiled faintly. “was i what?”
“throwing hints at me all day?”
will stared at him.
then he burst out laughing.
macklin felt his face heat. “what?”
“all day?” will repeated. “mack, i’ve been throwing hints at you for like three months.”
macklin opened his mouth.
closed it.
“oh.”
will laughed harder, dropping his face into his hands. “oh my god.”
“three months?”
“at least.”
“what hints?”
will looked at him like he was unbelievable. “i brought you coffee before morning skate because you said you liked that one place.”
“that’s friendly.”
“i watched that documentary with you even though i fell asleep halfway through because it was boring.”
“you said you liked it.”
“i lied because you were excited.”
macklin blinked.
will kept going, counting on his fingers. “i text you good luck before every game even when i’m literally also playing in the game. i always sit next to you on flights. i bought your favorite snacks and pretended they were for both of us. i told you you looked good in that blue hoodie and you said, ‘thanks, it’s comfortable.’”
macklin winced. “that was bad.”
“that was criminal.”
“in my defense, it is comfortable.”
will groaned. “mack.”
macklin was smiling now, a little embarrassed, a little overwhelmed, and a lot warmer than he had been five minutes ago.
“i didn’t know,” he said softly.
will’s laughter faded.
“yeah,” he said. “i figured.”
macklin looked at him carefully. “you like me.”
will’s cheeks went red.
he looked out at the ocean. “yeah.”
macklin waited.
will rubbed at the back of his neck. “yeah, i like you. a lot. and i know that’s maybe weird, or maybe not what you want, and you don’t have to say anything if you don’t—”
“will.”
will stopped.
macklin’s voice came out softer than he expected. “i like you too.”
will blinked.
“what?”
“i like you too.”
“like… as a friend?”
macklin almost laughed, but will looked too nervous, so he didn’t.
“no,” macklin said. “not like a friend.”
will’s whole face changed.
it happened slowly, like sunrise. disbelief first. then hope. then something so bright and soft that macklin felt it in his chest.
“oh,” will whispered.
“yeah.”
“you’re not just saying that because i made it awkward?”
macklin shook his head. “you didn’t make it awkward.”
“i definitely did.”
“a little.”
will laughed, but it came out shaky.
macklin reached for him before he could overthink it. not his hand, not yet. just the edge of the rainbow bandana around will’s wrist. his fingers brushed it lightly.
will looked down.
then, very carefully, he turned his hand over.
macklin took it.
will’s hand was warm.
for a moment, both of them just stared at their joined hands like neither of them quite believed it.
“you’re really bad at hints,” will said.
macklin smiled. “you’re really bad at being subtle.”
“i wasn’t trying to be subtle.”
“that makes this worse for me.”
will laughed, and this time it sounded normal. happy.
macklin rubbed his thumb once over will’s knuckles. will went quiet immediately.
“that okay?” macklin asked.
will nodded. “yeah. very okay.”
the sun slipped lower, and the water turned gold.
will leaned a little closer. not all the way. just enough that macklin could decide.
macklin decided.
he leaned back.
their shoulders touched.
will exhaled like he had been holding his breath all day.
“i thought you were never gonna notice,” will said.
“i noticed eventually.”
“after i basically confessed on a beach.”
“still counts.”
“barely.”
macklin smiled. “i’m sorry.”
will looked at him. “don’t be.”
“i made you wait.”
“yeah, but…” will squeezed his hand once. “you’re here now.”
macklin looked at him, really looked at him.
will smith was loud and ridiculous and dramatic. he sang badly in cars. he called muffins beach fuel. he painted hearts on macklin’s cheek and bought him bracelets because they looked like the ocean. he fell hard, apparently. he fell with his whole self, with jokes covering nerves and smiles covering hope.
and macklin had missed it.
but he didn’t want to miss anything else.
“i’m here,” macklin said.
will’s smile softened.
“good.”
they sat there until the sky deepened and the air got cooler. eventually, will shivered, though he tried to hide it.
macklin noticed.
“cold?”
“no.”
“liar.”
“maybe.”
macklin stood and held out a hand. will took it, letting macklin pull him up. neither of them let go after.
they walked back toward the car with sand in their shoes and pride beads around will’s neck and matching hearts still painted on their cheeks.
the street was quieter now, but there were still flags hanging from windows, still music in the distance, still people laughing as they packed up booths.
will swung their hands once between them, like he was testing if he was allowed.
macklin swung back.
will looked over, smiling.
“so,” will said, “does this mean i can keep flirting with you?”
macklin pretended to think about it. “i guess.”
“you guess?”
“yeah.”
“wow. romantic.”
macklin tugged him lightly closer. “i’ll try to notice faster.”
will’s grin went bright enough to make the whole sidewalk feel lit up again.
“that’s all i ask.”
they reached the car, but neither of them moved to get in right away.
will leaned back against the passenger door, looking at macklin with that soft nervousness again. the kind that made macklin want to be careful. the kind that made him want to be brave too.
“today was really good,” will said.
macklin nodded. “yeah.”
“like… really good.”
“yeah.”
will bit his lip, then smiled. “you know, this is the part where you could say something back.”
macklin laughed quietly.
then he stepped a little closer.
“i’m glad you asked me to come.”
will’s eyes flicked over his face.
“yeah?”
“yeah. and i’m glad you kept trying to tell me.”
“even though you missed every hint?”
“especially then.”
will looked amused. “why especially?”
macklin shrugged, suddenly shy. “because it means you didn’t give up on me.”
will’s expression softened so much that macklin almost had to look away.
“mack,” he said quietly.
“what?”
“i don’t think i could.”
the words settled between them.
warm. honest. terrifying.
macklin reached up and touched the beads around will’s neck, just for something to do with his hands. “you’re very cheesy today.”
“you like it.”
macklin smiled.
this time, he didn’t dodge it.
“yeah,” he said. “i do.”
will’s breath caught.
macklin saw it.
and this time, he understood.
he stepped closer and pressed a kiss to will’s cheek, right beside the little rainbow heart.
it was quick. soft. barely more than a second.
but when he pulled back, will looked like the whole ocean had moved under his feet.
“oh,” will said.
macklin smiled, a little nervous now. “okay?”
will nodded fast. “yeah. okay. very okay. extremely okay.”
macklin laughed.
will touched his own cheek like he wanted to keep the feeling there.
“you kissed the heart,” he said.
“yeah.”
“that was smooth.”
“i have moments.”
“rare ones.”
“wow.”
will grinned. “i’m kidding.”
macklin opened the car door for him.
will stared at it.
“what?” macklin asked.
“nothing. just… you’re opening my door now?”
“i can close it.”
“don’t you dare.”
macklin laughed as will climbed in.
the drive back was quieter than the drive there. not uncomfortable. just different. will’s playlist played low through the speakers. the windows were cracked, and the night air smelled like salt and asphalt and leftover summer heat.
at a red light, will reached across the console.
macklin looked down.
will’s hand rested there, palm up.
an invitation.
macklin took it.
will smiled at the windshield like he was trying to keep it together.
macklin rubbed his thumb over will’s knuckles again.
“you’re doing that on purpose,” will said.
“doing what?”
“being sweet.”
macklin glanced at him. “is it working?”
will looked at him then, eyes soft, cheeks still pink under the fading paint.
“yeah,” he said. “way too well.”
macklin held his hand the rest of the way home.
and when they got back, they sat in the parked car for ten extra minutes, not talking much, not needing to. will kept looking at him like he was still checking that this was real.
macklin kept looking back so he would know it was.
eventually, will leaned his head against the seat and smiled.
“best beach day ever,” he said.
macklin looked at the bracelet on his wrist.
blue and green. ocean boy.
then he looked at will, at the rainbow beads and the soft happiness all over his face.
“yeah,” macklin said.
and this time, he knew exactly what he meant.
“best beach day ever.”