Chapter Text
For as long as Macklin Celebrini could remember, his life orbited around hockey. Around the discipline that came with it, the strain he felt build with every bad game, but also the sincere joy he felt every time he stepped out on the ice. It was always there, his training and passion carving the way for him to lead his team to victory. He knew this to be true from the time he first picked up a stick, to his time at Boston University, and now on the San Jose Sharks.
But he couldn’t shake the deep seated feeling that something wasn’t right, his shoulders shook a little more with every game, his hands felt like they clenched into permanent fists. With every game came more issues, more things he did wrong, more passes he didn’t make, and more phone calls from the one person he wants to make proud, picking out every single problem with his gameplay.
Rick Celebrini had always been this way, couch first, father dead last. And that fact never made it not sting when Macklin was so desperately seeking his father’s approval, just to fall short every single time. And it hurt, it began to chip away at his body, corroding the bone beneath his flesh, shaping his mindset for the next game that he knew would never be better.
For Macklin, the transition to harsh words to a stinging face and bruises was a slow one. He remembers the first time his father hit him, and at the time he hadn’t considered it as such. It was the one and only time he mouthed off back to his father, and it resulted in a sharp slap to the back of the head, stinging only for a little while. But really he felt he deserved it, he shouldn’t have talked to his father that way.
Other times it was harder to rationalize, a bad turnover, a missed shot, but really, the physical violence was few and far between, only really resulting in a bruised wrist or stinging cheek every once and a while. So Macklin pushed it to the back of his mind, it wasn’t that bad, and if he had played better his father wouldn’t have had to discipline him. So he pushed harder.
He remembers vividly the pride on his father’s face when he went first overall. A clap on his shoulder and a promise for more training, eyes that told him not to mess it up. And for all Macklin tried he could only feel like he had. From training camp, to his first couple practices with the full team he had felt a weight bearing down on his shoulders, the weight of a franchise, of expectations, of his fathers eyes focused squarely on him.
It made it hard to breath, reduced Macklin to all tight shoulders hoisted up by his ears, too quick breaths and hiding in the locker room showers. The pressure had felt insurmountable, but slowly it lessened. With time his father became less interested in watching his practices, beginning to watch more from afar, but never more than a phone call away. And Mack started to feel like maybe he could love hockey freely again, his teammates joy for the game working out the knots in his being.
The San Jose sharks roster had changed a lot for him, and as hard as Macklin tried to keep his distance and focus on his training, he couldn’t ignore the sense of family that was slowly building with every practice and every get together. The way it loosened his shoulders enough to laugh freely. His teammates became a highlight, from the steadiness of Toff, to Reavo’s boisterous personality, and to Will. His fellow rookie just a little older than him.
Will Smith was not unlike Macklin in a lot of ways, their fierce competitiveness showing in their many games against each other in their time at BU and BC. When they were drafted onto the same team, the younger had felt some of the pressure in his lungs release, because he knew Will would be a good teammate.
Macklin can’t say he didn’t pay attention to Will when their were rivals. He had this deep ache in his chest whenever he stared into Will’s blue eyes before a puck drop, a want to get to know him better, to see if their rivalry could evolve into a friendship. But for the generational talent, there could be no distractions, and he swallowed the want as it reared its head, locking it into a box and pushing it far down.
Macklin was no stranger to wanting things, and embarrassingly he thinks that maybe it’s more obvious than he thought. He remembers wanting ice cream like his younger brother had, watching kids play in the park with their friends, watching a little girl be comforted by her father because she was too scared to cross the road.
He learned quickly what he could and couldn’t have, and eventually he stopped asking, stopped searching, and just accepted. His life had always been a certain way, and that wasn’t going to change. If he followed his diet plan, his training schedule, if he gave everything he could and more until his joints ached and his stomach was spinning with nausea, someday it will be enough. But Macklin was never really sure who it would be enough for, him? His father?
He had hoped for a long time that the answer would be both, that he’d feel the warmth bloom in his chest upon finally hearing the four words he so desperately craved. However that hasn’t happened, so Macklin keeps pushing.
Will Smith found Macklin Celebrini to be a bit of an enigma since he first laid eyes on him. The kid was good, really good. In his opinion generational talent seemed to fit. But it also didn’t. For someone like Macklin, it always seemed like he was fitting into shoes a little too big for him. It was true, he was great, and he put everything into it. Will can’t remember a time that Macklin wasn’t constantly chasing after something, the puck, a goal, one of their teammates. He moved with all the swiftness of someone who truly had everything to lose, but the way he carried himself, acted, differed so much from how Will had imagined.
Macklin wasn’t full of himself, he wasn’t cocky, or rude. He would chirp other players, Will at times when they were rivals. But there wasn’t really any heat to be felt behind them. And to the older, whenever he saw the younger chasing after the puck, giving it his all, he had this air of determination mixed with suffocating amounts of desperation. If he didn’t get that puck, get that goal, skate faster, it looked as if he was going to fall apart.
Will would watch as his teammate would always be the first one on the ice, and then of course the last one to leave. It was that way from the first day of training camp, and of course it hadn’t changed. Macklin was nothing if not stubborn, never straying from his delicately balanced routine.
However that routine began to mold and take a different shape after training camp began. Will was a bit obsessed with Macklin, they had been rivals of course, and Will could remember feeling jealousy coursing through him at one point over how Macklin had everything, the support, the training, so many people cheering him on. But that feeling hadn’t lasted long, even while they were playing against each other. He was happy he wasn’t Macklin Celebrini.
He didn’t know really what it was that changed his mind, but something in him told him that there was more to this generational talent, and he wanted to find out, wanted to play on the same line, wanted to get to know him more. So he did, with all the confidence of a hockey bro who was just a little out of his depth.
“Hey” Will had called out one morning a little while after practice had began. They were at a lull in the drills, a short break before they picked back up.
Macklin’s head snapped up sharply, tearing his gaze away from the ice below him, his eyes narrowing questioningly. “Yeah?” He replied, his head tilting a bit to the side with the question.
Will had to resist the urge to let his lips quirk up. He had heard some of the guys liken Macklin to that of a puppy at one point, too eager to please, with boundless energy, and of course with the way he tilted his head when he was confused. He wasn’t sure he could see the comparison before, but he definitely could now.
“You’re really young.” Will stated, grimacing at the look Macklin gave back at him, an eyebrow quirked up and an expression that looked more confused and maybe a little offended. He knew he should have work shopped what he was gonna say, but Will wouldn’t say he was known for being smooth, smooth as a gravel road maybe. He vowed silently to work on it for their next interaction.
“Uh- yeah? What’s your point?” He wasn’t surprised with the response he received, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“Sorry, I uh- ugh.” Will ran a hand over his face. “I’m not very good at this, do you have a drivers license?" He finally asked, steading his voice to not sound so nervous over something he really shouldn't be nervous about.
Macklin looked thoughtful for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. Truthfully he wanted one, but he hadn’t had time. When he had last brought it up to his dad it had caused a bit of an argument, with Rick reminding him that he would always drive him, well up until training camp started. Now Mack had to rely on Jumbo, or take the bus, usually the bus as he didn’t like the idea of taking more from his host.
“Do you, want a ride?” Will asked, trying to keep the hopeful tinge out of his voice as he started into Macklin’s eyes which somehow looked even more confused.
“Um, i mean.” He began, trying to rationalize the question in his head. Why would will be offering this, Macklin didn’t need help, but maybe it wasn’t Will asking to help him, just to spend time with him? Though Macklin wasn’t sure that made sense either. Just because he had wanted to get to know the blonde better doesn’t mean it was reciprocated.
“Why would you offer me that.” He internally cringed at how defensive it came off, his voice sounding tight and unsure, he watched as Will’s eyes widened a fraction at the response before his face turned neutral again.
The older seemed thoughtful for a moment before responding. “We live close, you’re at Jumbo’s right?” He waited till Macklin nodded. “Yeah I’m at Patty’s so it’s not a bad drive over, plus we’re heading to the same place everyday.”
The younger still looked a little uncertain so he kept talking. “You don’t have to decide now, and it doesn’t have to be an all the time thing, just thought I’d offer.” Will watched as Macklin paused before telling him he’d think about it over practice.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, drills were fine, Macklin and Will got to play on the same line in scrims, and their chemistry for what was non-existent off the ice, was amazing on the ice.
Will’s chest heaved with heavy breaths as he exited the ice and made his way toward the locker rooms, pushing inside and walking past the other men in the room to sit at his stall and begin to take his gear off. As he knelt down to unlace his skates he saw a familiar pair move into his periphery. Looking up he was grace by the sight of Macklin standing infront of him, all glistening sweat and tired gaze.
“I accept” He said quickly and Will immediately felt a little out of his depth, confusing seeping into his body.
“Accept what?” he questioned, he watched as Macklin looked a little uncertain than, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
He quickly breathed out, “Your offer to drive me home” the words melding together into a puzzle Will had to dig for. He sounded a little embarassed.
“Oh. Oh yeah sorry, sure dude. Let’s get showered and packed up first then we’ll head out.” Macklin nodded before stalking off to his own stall and beginning to take off his gear. Will watched his careful movements for a few seconds before focusing back on his skates.
“Here we are” Will called out to snap Macklin out of whatever trance he was in staring out the window of his Bronco. He had been relatively quiet the whole drive, only responding in short answers and hums to anything Will asked. He didn’t seem like one for conversation, but maybe that would change with time.
“Oh uh thank you, I really appreciate it.” The younger quickly gathered his gear as Will spoke again. “Hey, I’ll pick you up tomorrow okay?”
Macklin looked a little stunned at that, his head snapping up for his gaze to meet his, Will feeling a sense of deja vu seeing the expression for the second time that day. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to” He looked confused once again, Will’s mind supplying him with the word puppy, but he quickly pushed it away and focused on the uncertain tone Macklin spoke with.
“Yeah man, I have to drive this way to get to the rink so it’s cool” Will was lying, it was the opposite direction back to the Marleau’s but his teammate didn’t need to know that.
“Okay, thanks Will” The older focused on his face in that moment, being rewarded by a small quirk of Macklin’s lips into a small smile. And if Will did a mini celebration as soon as Macklin closed the door to Jumbo’s guest house, that was for him and him alone to know.