Chapter Text
Mack bounds down the stairs, two at a time. Today is the day he’s been waiting for all summer, and nothing is going to come between him and -
“Macklin!”
He freezes.
Considering making a run for it, Mack's gaze slides to the key rack. Whelp, disregard. His keys are missing, and a quick peek out of the window reveals his car is blocked in too.
"Curses, Macky, we've been thwarted again!" his best friend would say in that ridiculously over-the-top, mustache-twirling cartoon villain voice he uses whenever he's trying to draw a smile out of a moody Mack. But Will isn't here to say that. He's on a plane headed to Vancouver, while Mack is stuck in his house because his parents have decided to forsake him this morning.
In the kitchen, his three siblings are seated on one side of the table, heads bent together and whispering fervently. As if sharing the same brain, they glance up at Mack's arrival. And smirk. Like they know something he doesn’t.
His mom stands at the counter, sipping her coffee while waiting for her bagel to toast. “Sleep well, dear?”
Charlie snorts. “You can't see the bags under Mack's eyes?”
Mack resists the urge to touch his face. There are no bags or blemishes. Which his sister is obviously jealous about. “I’m gonna be late,” he grumbles to his mom. "But you're blocking me in.”
Placing her hands on his shoulders, Robyn guides her secondborn to the table. “You’re not getting your keys back until you eat, mister. I know you're excited, but Will’s plane doesn’t land until noon. It’s only 8.”
“And it takes nearly three hours to drive to the airport without accounting for traffic -”
"For normal people, the drive is two hours," his older brother, Aiden, cuts in. “With traffic.”
Apparently being a safe, careful driver is a sin in this family. Imagine that.
Mack shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing angrily. Skipping breakfast wasn’t ideal. But he’d taken so long getting ready - unable to decide which shirt to wear - that he figured he’d just grab something when he stopped for gas.
Their dad pointedly clears his throat. “Since we’re all together, I’d like to use this moment to speak with the four of you.” Guess this explains the ambush - Dr. Rick hasn’t met his quota of lectures given for the month. Per usual, his timing is awful. He couldn’t have done this last night? Or just, ya know… never? “As you get older,” his gaze lingers on his two eldest sons, “your friends might start doing certain things. Things you might be tempted to do as well.”
“Dad," Mack whines. “If I promise I won’t throw myself off a cliff just because one of my buddies does, can I leave now?”
“That’s not what I'm getting at, Macklin."
Eyes narrowing, Aiden glances suspiciously between their parents. “A new version of the sex talk?”
Mack, Charlie, and RJ erupt in outrage, but their dad raises his voice to be heard over the commotion. “Calm down, that’s not what I’m getting at either. As I’ve hopefully taught you over the years, your body is a temple -”
Christ. It takes everything within Mack not to slam his forehead against the table. Repeatedly.
RJ groans. “Nooo, did Mack go viral for another crappy keg stand?”
Mack’s face heats, as it always does whenever the topic of MarMon is brought up. “I told you that wasn’t my fault!” He hopes whoever filmed and uploaded his disastrous attempt suffers a lifetime of petty inconveniences. “The spotters weren’t strong enough to lift me up properly, which I only discovered as it was happening.”
Or as Will once gleefully (and drunkenly) put it, "Ass so fat, it makes keg stand fall flat."
“The guys couldn’t lift you up properly because you were squirming," Aiden counters with a shit-eating grin. “Nobody wanted to be kicked in the face by an NHL player.”
“I was squirming because they kept laughing about whether or not 'my people' would sue if they dropped me! It didn’t exactly inspire confidence, okay?”
RJ deepens his voice, mimicking their father's stern tone. "It wouldn't have happened at all, Macklin, if you had the confidence to stand up to peer pressure."
"Nice one!" Charlie snickers, high-fiving their youngest sibling.
What is this, gang up on Macklin Day or something? Bad timing. Today is NOT the day to test his patience.
“That's real funny, RJ," Mack says amicably. The gullible little terror brightens at the 'compliment'. "Good way to deflect from how it was you who raided Mom’s stash of sweets, huh?"
Instead of denying it like an intelligent person would, the younger boy squawks, “Mack, you said you wouldn’t tell!"
"Did I? Oops." Mack turns to their mom. "Since you've apprehended the perpetrator, may I have my keys back, please?”
Robyn makes a contemplative noise. "I'll think about it."
A lot of words to say 'no'.
“I told you, runt." Aiden pats the youngest’s shoulder sympathetically. "Macky is always gonna put Smitty first. Maybe now you’ll believe me.”
“So much for loyalty!” Charlie scoffs.
“So much for brotherhood!”
Mack rolls his eyes. At twenty years of age, he finds teenage theatrics so tiring.
“That’s not at all what your father is getting at, for the record.”
“Oh, of course not,” Mack croons, relishing the way his siblings tense. “Dad wants to know who broke into the liquor cabinet while you two were in the Bahamas.” He ignores the warning look his older brother sends him. “It was Charlie, for a TikTok challenge -”
“Charlize!” Robyn cries, scandalized. "I expected better from you, young lady!"
His sister doesn’t attempt to explain herself. Considering her thievery wasn’t for the reason their parents (understandably) assume, Mack should have anticipated what was coming before a handful of scrambled eggs hit him square in the face.
Lovely. So much for this outfit.
"You're a rat, Macklin!"
"If you’d have let me finish, I would have been able to explain that the bottle was used up during the five attempts it took you to concoct an edible sauce!” Beneath the table, Aiden brutally kicks Mack in the shin. Oww, what the... oh crap. “Aiden supervised the whole thing from start to finish! No one actually drank the alcohol or came anywhere close to burning down the kitchen. Scouts honor.”
“What does a snitch know about honor?” Charlie hisses.
Sheesh, and Mack thought his best friend was dramatic? Hopefully the two don't compare notes this week!
“Interestingly,” Rick muses, steepling his fingers as his gaze locks onto his eldest son, “I distinctly recall you swearing that you had no idea what happened to the missing bottle.”
Looking their dad dead in the eye, Aiden smoothly lies, “Because I didn't. I never asked where Charlie got the bottle from, and she didn't volunteer the information.”
God, he's so cool, Mack thinks, once again in awe of his big brother. Even cooler was how Aiden - ever supportive of his siblings' hobbies - picked the cabinet lock with nothing but a paperclip.
Unfortunately, their dad isn't buying his firstborn's innocence. In hindsight, Mack might have made a little error in judgement. No worries, though, he can totally fix his booboo!
“If I make you a deal,” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “can I borrow your car, please?”
Translation: if I tell you something you’re not supposed to know, will you give me what I’m asking for?
"If your deal is worth my while, I accept. But don't leave this house until you wash your face and change your clothes." His mom gives him an assessing look. "That navy shirt you bought the other day would look nice with those shorts."
Translation: if your knowledge is worth the price of what you want, then yes.
Over the years, Mack learned through trial and error what information his mom considered valuable. Ratting out people he lives with was an innately tricky business, so he better get the best bang for his buck, right? Also funnily enough, her last remark perfectly illustrates why he's always low-key been a momma's boy.
Contrary to what his younger siblings believe, Mack does have honor. And he is loyal. To Aiden, his childhood role model, and the person who taught him how to navigate this world of unspoken, incomprehensible rules. Rules that everyone but Mack seemed to understand. As the eldest, Aiden devoutly watches out for all three of his siblings, with only a smidgeon of bias in Mack’s favor. But Charlie is the only girl, and RJ is the youngest. Mack and Aiden had to band together to survive.
After doing as his mom asked, Mack returns to the kitchen, only to wince. The argument between Aiden and their dad is beginning to heat up. Not for long, though!
Mack pompously clears his throat. “Ahem! Before I leave, there’s something I need to get off my chest, something that’s been weighing heavily on me, and I can’t bear to live a lie any longer.”
His family's reaction is baffling.
Fork frozen halfway to his mouth, RJ stares back at Mack like a deer in headlights. Charlie gasps loudly, her scowling expression morphing into bright-eyed excitement. Aiden looks apprehensive, while their dad pinches the bridge of his nose like he's fighting off a headache.
Robyn, the only normal one among them, gently urges, “Go on, sweetheart, it’s okay."
In a single breath, Mack says, “Mom, while you, RJ, and Charlie were at her tennis thing last weekend, Aiden and I didn’t go camping with Dad. We stayed in a five-star hotel in Toronto, because it was hosting a physio convention. That trout we ate for dinner was only from our ‘Boy’s Trip’ in the sense that we bought it on the way home." He bows his head, the picture of remorse. "Aid and I hated lying, but we were advised it was just something you wouldn't understand. I'm really sorry, Mom."
"Me too," Aiden chimes in with a perfectly straight face.
Wise enough to not stick around for the fallout - Aiden will debrief him later - Mack kisses his mom's reddened cheek, avoids his dad's disgruntled glare, and beats a hasty retreat.
"Better hope for your sake that snitches don't actually end up in ditches!" Charlie calls after him.
"Hey, Superstar."
“Hi?”
There is some tomfoolery afoot.
This is NOT the same guy Mack hung out with in Boston at the end of April. It’s definitely not the same guy he FaceTimed with last night. His Will isn’t this bulky, sun-kissed, or blindingly blonde!
The imposter grins so widely, his canines glint in the early afternoon sunlight. Oh. Hmm. His Will sometimes makes his heart rate spike for no reason whatsoever. And in spite of how often they travel as professional hockey players, his Will steadfastly remains a chronic overpacker. So maybe this isn't an unfortunate case of alien body snatchers?
They stare at each other for several moments, until the older boy opens his arms. Mack doesn't hesitate. Hugs from his best friend are almost as good as hugs from his mom. Besides, he requires indisputable proof that this is his Will, and now he has it.
Mission status: Success.
"Missed ya, Celly."
Wrapping his arms around Will's waist, Mack squeezes with so much force, his friend's back cracks. “Missed you more, Smitty.”
“How about we call it even for the sake of these old bones, aye?” Before stepping back, Will blows hotly in Mack’s ear, cackling at his instantaneous, flailing shudder. Ick ick ick. “How many cars did Mercedes give you, Mr. Ambassador? Cuz this isn’t the one you showed me."
“Borrowed my mom’s since she was blocking me in.” Mack hip-bumps Will out of the way. “So, how was your flight?” he asks, loading his friend’s luggage into the trunk on his own. “Did you get some shut-eye without me around to yap your ear off?”
"It's cute you think I haven't mastered sleeping with my eyes open by now." Will holds his right hand out. “Give it here, Macklin.” Mack pretends he doesn’t understand. It’s part of the dance they do. “Just a heads up, but unless you wanna spend the next hour signing autographs and shooting the shit with those old dudes eyeing us, you might wanna -"
Mack yeets the key fob away like they’re playing a high-stakes game of Hot Potato. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean -”
Luckily, Will has stellar reflexes and catches it before it hits him in the face. “Chill, dude. We’re good.” Free of guilt, Mack climbs into the passenger seat. “You gonna punch in your address, bub, or make me look it up?”
“Uhhh…”
Will arches an immaculate eyebrow. Charlie is convinced he gets them done, but Mack can't bring himself to ask. “Macklin, my dearest, most precious friend. Do you not... know it?”
Mack knows his parents' address, thank you very much. He just isn't in a rush to go back. For a lot of reasons, including his disinterest in sharing Will's attention. It's been three months since they last saw each other in person, he's allowed some selfishness, okay?
“Will Smith hockey,” Mack lowers his voice, “am I sensing judgement?”
"Gosh, sweetheart, I'd never!" Will cries in a melodramatic Southern Belle accent. "Oh my word, just what kind of friend do you think I am, hm?"
"The best," Mack fires back, heart fluttering when Will playfully tickles the underside of his chin.
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!" An unfamiliar address is typed into the GPS. "Maybe some food will get that big brain of yours working?"
"I can live with that."
Will is adjusting the rearview mirror when Mack notices it. Sucking in a sharp breath, he grabs his friend's left hand for a closer look.
“It’s super sweet that you wanna hold hands while I drive, and I'm totes down. Can you just wait until we’re on the road, please?... and maybe hold the one that's closer to you?”
Sometimes, it’s challenging to ignore the bullshit that comes out of Will’s mouth. But engaging with it only encourages him. Plus, Mack has bigger fish to fry.
Turning Will’s arm over, he traces his finger along the delicate, marred skin on the inside of his wrist. “What the hell is this?”
“You tell me, bub.” Will tugs his arm back so he can start the car. “You’re a smart boy, aren't -” He seizes Mack’s wrist. “Ah, ah, ah, you know the rules. No hitting the driver.” Mack opens his mouth. “I don’t care if the vehicle isn’t moving yet. Your mom wouldn’t want us fighting in her car, would she?”
Grrr.
“When did you get a tattoo? And why?”
There are plenty of guys in the NHL with ink. Mack just never thought Will would be one of them. And if his best friend ever did get a tattoo, it’d probably be something religious. Not ‘BC’ staggered in a thick, maroon font, with the outline of an eagle centered between the two letters. A tribute to his alma mater, Boston College (blegh).
“Yesterday,” comes Will’s breezy answer, pulling away from the curb. “As for why? Because I, Will, have free will… heh, get it?”
“You’re so lame, Smitty.”
“Maybe I am.” At a stop sign, Will glances over at him. “But you still love me, right?”
Cheeks heating, Mack stubbornly holds his gaze. “Guess that makes me lame then, too.” The car fills with the sound of Will’s deep, rumbling laughter. “Did it hurt?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe, dude,” Will admits, much to Mack’s surprise. “But I was a very, very brave boy. Took it on the chin and everything.”
“Oh, I bet.”
Mack was only being slightly sarcastic, but Will counters with an audacious, “Pardon, but it wasn’t me who cried over my shoulder injury!”
“You promised we’d never speak of that again!” Mack shrieks indignantly. “I was very stressed, okay? There was a lot happening in the third period of that game, plus overtime, plus you looked like you were on Death’s Door -”
“Celly, I was teasing -”
“And the doctors were being so sketch, dude. Kept insisting on waiting for the x-rays instead of speculating. Like I’m sorry, but if they really had no idea what was wrong, then they should consider a new line of work -”
“I cried when you injured your hip during preseason!" Will blurts out, putting a swift end to Mack's rambling. "Like, I legit hid in the bathroom during intermission and bawled my eyes out.”
Oh. That's actually kinda... cute?
When Mack rubs the back of his neck, it’s warm to the touch. “Really?”
“Do you honestly think I’d make up something that embarrassing?” Reaching out with his un-branded arm, Will pokes his knee. “Sooo, do you like my new ink?”
“Not at all,” Mack responds, a little too fast, a lot too honest. Will doesn’t take offense. Doesn’t even ask why, but Mack tells him anyway. “Why BC? Why not the Sharks?”
Will smacks his gum while he ponders the question. Usually, his best friend’s obnoxious gum chewing makes Mack want to commit acts of violence, but today, it’s oddly comforting. “Cuz BC happened. It's done." His voice is flat. Monotone. Until the final part, when it drops to a faint, strained whisper. "And no one can ever take it away from me.”
Mack knows his best friend, probably better than he knows himself. It’s as if Will is afraid of speaking something into existence.
The five-letter forbidden word.
Trade.
Will didn’t get a Sharks tattoo, because what if he gets traded one day?
Over my dead body.
People often describe Will as a guy possessing ‘golden retriever’ energy. As a rookie, his nicknames in the locker room included Puppy and Kibble. Will acts like his actual dog, Rigney, came into this world via his own (nonexistent) womb. With so many canine traits, Will should be Public Enemy Number One to felines everywhere.
So when Mack learns they’re going to a cat cafe, he’s a little (a lot) skeptical. He sticks closer than usual to his best friend, prepared to intervene the moment the nearest kitty cat realizes who’s actually in their midst.
He needn’t have bothered.
Will Smith hockey is the cat’s meow (yes, Mack is totally adding that brilliant pun to his Instagram caption once they leave). It’s hard to say who loves who more - the cats, who flock to Will in droves, or Will himself, who’s all too eager to lavish attention, praise, and affection on every single feline in here. Hmm, maybe Will's lone cat characteristic - his habit of slow blinking like a tired kitty - outweighs everything else?
While Will holds court, Mack eats his lunch while daydreaming about offering the most ambitious feline among them an entire trout to do his bidding - maul that disgusting tattoo off Will’s wrist. Sigh. If only. After about an hour, his best friend's facade starts to crack. Will is undeniably having a blast, but he's also very much in need of a nap.
In a shocking reversal of roles, Will spends the entire twenty minute drive back to Mack's parents' house yapping nonstop about his new kitty pals. Mack was a little embarrassed about how many pictures (and videos) he took, but Will thanks him profusely for it, "Gracie needs reference points, or she'll stop listening, and then I'll cry about her not loving me, and it'll be a big mess, Macky, you really saved the day."
Heh...
Some extra care will be taken when sending that particular email. Wouldn't want to give Will's sister the impression that Mack is like, obsessed with Will's perfect doll-nose and protruding arm veins or something. He simply has a respectful, appreciative eye for beauty.
They’ve just started unloading Will’s bags from the trunk when Mack’s siblings burst out of the house, RJ leading the way with an excited, "SMITTY!"
A good sport, Will waves and calls back his own greeting. He then lowers his voice so only Mack can hear. “Flattered, obviously, but what’s with the welcoming party?”
Mack sighs, already aggravated. "Revenge." When Will's pretty blue eyes widen, he quickly clarifies, "Against me."
Honestly, RJ coming out isn't surprising. The kid who whined about Mack betraying their so-called ‘brotherhood’ is a massive hypocrite. He was a Will Smith hockey super fan even when the guy was Mack’s fiercest, most vexing rival. As for Charlie, Mack remains convinced she has a small crush on the older blonde. When he confronted her about it, she vehemently denied it, going so far as to say, “Someone in this family has a crush on Will, but it’s not me.” Like... sure, Jan. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
The real red flag is his older brother, who never comes outside for anyone except his girlfriend. Aiden was also the last in Casa de Celebrini to accept Will as one of their own (indifference is NOT acceptance, and Mack will die on this hill). MarMon chewed Mack up and spat him out, but if that was the price he had to pay for shifting his brother’s opinion of his best friend, then his suffering was worth it.
Mack’s memory of that day is spotty, but he remembers the essential parts. Things started going downhill for him right about the time Will texted that he was gonna chill with his old BC teammates instead of meeting up as they’d discussed. Irrationally pissed off, Mack told everyone he came across that BC guys were trash, all of them, and shouldn’t be trusted... including Will himself, who Aiden frantically reached out to when his little brother's antics started straddling the line of a legitimate PR nightmare.
Dropping everything to heroically come to Mack's rescue, Will arrived to find his best friend hunched over a bush, spewing his guts out. Humiliated, he started belligerently shouting all kinds of shit, including how Will should go back to his other friends, his real ones, the guys who he abandoned Mack for in the first place. Unfazed, the Sharks' designated 'Moody Mack Whisperer' cracked his knuckles and got to work. Alas, sloshed-Mack was beyond reason. His alcohol-induced hysterics needed to run their course.
A+++ for effort, though!
Realizing his little brother was dangerously close to a nuclear meltdown, Aiden left him in the capable hands of his two most trusted friends and escorted a frazzled-Will away. What went down in the thirty minutes they were apart, Mack doesn't know. When he was finally cleared to reunite with his designated caregivers, Will was sitting on the curb with his head bowed, listening as Aiden spoke in a low, urgent tone beside him. After Mack politely announced his triumphant resurrection, "I'm back, bitches!" he distinctly recalls Will wiping at his face with a sweater paw (cute) and sniffling 'stupid allergies' (suspicious - it was summer).
Following the successful custody exchange, Will brought him to his parents' house in Lexington. Felled by his own hubris, Mack nursed a hangover of biblical proportions. For days. He definitely would have perished if he didn't have the bestest Boy Best Friend in the world taking such immaculate care of him. On Tuesday afternoon, Aiden called to say he was coming to fetch his brother, but Mother Hen Will Smith politely declined. She was not relinquishing custody of her darling, bratty charge until he was running at full capacity again.
Mack would have received the all-clear on Thursday, but there were 3 playoff games that night, including the Bruins. So, priorities. The next morning, Aiden came to the Smith's front door, handed an equally-flummoxed Will a giant box of his favorite snacks as a thank you for taking care of Mack (a collaborative project with their own mom and assisted by Colleen Smith), sincerely told him to reach out if he ever needed anything, dapped him up, then walked off like that wasn't the strangeness thing ever. In the car, Mack asked what the fuck that had been about, and Aiden looked at him like he was crazy ("Will is your best friend, Macky. That makes him family. Don't be stupid.")
“Dude, I have no idea.” Mack wearily rubs a hand over his face. “Dad woke up this morning and decided we needed another ‘your body is a temple’ lecture. Since then, nothing has made sense.”
His best friend makes a weird noise, something between a gasp and a laugh. Mack’s gaze narrows. Before he can ask about it, Aiden reaches them.
“If Mom files for divorce, we’ve all agreed it’s your fault.” Mack’s brain goes haywire, cycling through a series of emotions he can’t even begin to name. His brother’s stern expression eases. “Whoa, dude. Relax. I’m joking.”
“Are you, though?” Mack asks, keeping a firm eye on Will, who’s being mobbed by the two youngest Celebrinis.
"I'd never let you shoulder the blame alone, little brother." Aiden smirks. "You should have seen her face when I mentioned that you refused to leave the hotel room for the rest of the weekend after the Beyond the Sling: Improved Protocols for Shoulder Rehabilitation seminar.” Mack hisses through his teeth. Shoulders are a very touchy subject for him, even before Will’s injury in December. Which is known. Luckily, his best friend hadn’t required surgery, but Mack missed Will so much during those weeks he was out, he felt like a piece of himself was gone. "Don't stress about it, Macky. Dad being in the dog house is entirely his own fault."
"For betraying us."
"That, and instead of admitting he hadn't taken a break from work like he promised, he straight up lied to her." Aiden obnoxiously ruffles Mack's hair, then smoothly dodges his retaliatory punch, grrr. "So, how was Mom's new ride? Can't believe she let you take it for a spin before me."
"Fine?"
Before Aiden can press the topic, Will swoops in. “She drives like a dream, dude. I love my Bronco, but I wouldn’t mind one of these on the side.”
He looks imploringly at Mack, who stares back with an expression he copied straight from his momma's face, 'You have adult money, so buy it yourself.' Will juts his plush bottom lip out. Pfft, he can't seriously expect that to work, right? Has he forgotten who he's dealing with? Do better, bro... oh god, why is his lip wobbling?! And why are there tears glistening in his eyes?!
Mack exhales in a huff. "Pick out a color, and I'll have Mercedes ship it to Boston."
"Eeek, yay, you're the best!" Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Will presses his lips to the younger boy's cheek. Heat instantly rises to Mack's face. Ugh. Last year during a celly, he impulsively kissed Will's cheek, but his best friend just laughed it off. It didn't make him blush like a middle-schooler. "Mwhaha, Grace is gonna be so jelly. I can't wait -"
Placing both hands on his hips, Aiden interjects with a sharp, “What the hell is wrong with you, Mack?”
"Oh jeez," Charlie flips her hair over her shoulder, "where to even begin?”
Mack is simply being a good ambassador for his brand deal with Mercedes. So what if Will technically can't be seen driving the vehicle, not unless he wants Ford to come down on his ass? It's the thought that counts.
"Macklin, your friend spent like seven hours on a plane, and then you made him drive your lazy ass around the city you grew up in?” Meep. Mack refuses to look weak in front of his best friend, so he doesn't wilt under his older brother’s disapproving gaze. But it’s close. “I know we all laugh about you being a Passenger Princess, but that was exceptionally rude, and you know it!”
Will shifts closer, until he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Mack. "I volunteered -"
"Shocker." Charlie flicks her wrist, mimicking the sharp crack of a whip. "For the love of God, Smitty, get up! You're so much better than this."
Mack glares daggers at his sister, but Will stops everyone in their tracks with a rare public display of his Loser Antics™ (antics he wields far too often in private for Mack's liking... they're not endearing, and he will not be convinced otherwise).
"Pew, pew, that's where you're wrong, little missy! I'm not at all." The three eldest Celebrini children are rightfully horrified at Will's flagrant misuse of finger guns. RJ, however, looks like he just met God himself. "In fact, when Celly tried to be a martyr, I shamelessly manipulated him until he handed the keys over. Felt bad about it at first, but it was totes worth it."
There are literal hearts falling out of Will's eyes. Mack wrinkles his nose. Gross. It’s just a heap of scrap metal, no need to be so weird about it. What’s next, an AI girlfriend?
Hmm, maybe Mercedes should 'regretfully' decline Mack's request...
After RJ (the suck-up) unloads the last of Will’s bags from the trunk, Mack chucks the key fob at Aiden. “Go get your jollies out, so you can stop being all pissy that we drove Mom's car before you. I’ll tell her I forgot to fill up.” Technically true. He did forget. Will, however, did not.
“Who would trust you after this morning, Macklin?” Charlie laughs derisively. “You’ll probably rat him out before he's left the neighborhood!”
“No, he wouldn't!” RJ cries ardently. Finally, some loyalty. “Mack never snitches on Aiden.”
Mack bares his teeth. So this is their revenge, huh? Getting under his skin, knowing he can’t retaliate unless he wants to risk Will - who's incredibly close to his older sister - thinking he's an asshole to his own siblings? Well, jokes on them. If Mack is gonna look bad either way, he might as well do what's more personally satisfying.
His sound theory is all but proven when Charlie turns to his best friend and asks, “Does Macky tattle on your teammates, too?”
“Nope." Will casually tosses an arm over Mack's shoulders in a heartwarming display of support. "Not even when he should.”
Charlie’s gaze sweeps up and down the older boy’s frame, before she lets out a dry, humorless scoff. “You disappoint me, Will Smith hockey."
"Genuinely, Char, what did you expect from the first half of WillMack?” Aiden asks wryly.
"Ugh, fair point."
Defensiveness wells up within Mack. “Leave him alone! He didn't do shit to either of you -”
“Don’t stress about it, Celly,” Will cuts in. Unsurprising, really. He’s notoriously over-tolerant of people disrespecting him. Mack suspects it’s a byproduct of the horrors he experienced during his stint with the NTDP. “My sister says worse. Like way worse.”
“Ask me if I care.”
Overindulgent as ever, Will humors him. “Do you -”
“No, I do NOT care! This behavior is unacceptable, and it ends now!" Mack rounds on his two younger siblings. "Listen very closely, shitheads. What I shared this morning at breakfast is nothing compared to what I have on either of you. You wanna keep coming for me and Smitty? Go right ahead. I can't stop you. In fact, I beg you. Please. Try me. I've been dying to show you runts what real snitching looks like."
"Hey, what did I do?!" RJ squawks.
"You know what you did -"
"Yeah, nothing!"
Mack lowers his voice several octaves. It's cold. Severe. And just a dash menacing. "Have I made myself clear? Or should we go find Mom, so you can have a taste of what I mean?”
Across Mack's shoulders, Will's arm spasms. He glances at his friend in concern, but Will is too busy rolling a rock across the pavement with the toe of his sneaker to meet his gaze. Blonde curls obscure most of his face, though what Mack can see is beet red. Like Will somehow received an epic sunburn in the last twenty seconds. He's also reverted to mouth-breathing. Usually, Will only does that on the ice. Or in the gym. Or while sleeping.
Okay, maybe it's not that weird.
Charlie opens her mouth, but Aiden loudly claps his hands together. “My precious underlings, now is not the time to test middle-manager-Macklin. Trust me on this.”
“Because Macky's boyfie is here, and he's gotta make a good impression,” Charlie stage whispers to RJ, who begins making exaggerated kissing noises.
Before Mack can strangle the youngest twerp, a sharp glare from Aiden has him slinking back to Will's side. “Dude, you are so lucky your parents stopped after two."
The comforting hand Will places on Mack's lower back is juxtaposed by his smug, "They realized they achieved perfection, so why continue?"
Before he can reply, Charlie effectively gains control of the conversation. One sentence. That's all it takes to send Mack's world crashing around him.
“Gosh, I can’t wait until I’m old enough to get matching tattoos with my friends.”
No.
No, absolutely not.
Mack must be mistaken.
Will wouldn't betray him like this.
After three grueling months apart, he wouldn't show up to Mack's hometown sporting the same tattoo as them. The (Un)Holy Trinity. His two other best friends. His ex-wingers, Gabe and Leno, who played with Will on a line he centered at the Program, BC, and several Worlds tournaments. Will wouldn't ink a permanent tribute on his body, celebrating his friendship with two guys who hate Mack's guts (okay, that's probably extreme in Gabe's case, but that blatantly thrown elbow to the face during their game against the Rangers didn't feel friendly).
Perhaps… maybe it’s not as bad as Mack assumes? Maybe several of Will’s former teammates got the same basic-BC-bitch tattoo as well. Fowler, Fortescue, Voter. It wasn’t just him, Gabe, and Leno.
Based on Will’s sheepish smile, the answer is precisely what Mack feared guessed.
Cool, cool, cool.
This isn't like the absolute worst fucking day of Mack's life or anything. It's fine. In fact, he doesn't even care.
America is the land of the free, right? It definitely doesn’t bother Mack that Will has the same ugly tattoo as his two other best friends. He’s not jealous or insecure. After spending his whole hockey career as a center, Will switched positions to be Mack's winger. Not theirs. His. Besides, Mack has other best friends of his own. Guys who are confident and secure in their bond, who don't need some tacky, permanent tribute to prove it.
So yeah, Mack doesn't care.
He just thinks it's funny how Will laughed it off in the car with a lame joke about 'free will'. Did he think Mack would never find out? It's obviously on social media if Charlie knows.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mack observes Will’s relaxed posture as he nods along with whatever animated story RJ is telling him. He's pressed against his best friend's side, yet it's like there's an invisible distance between them. Insurmountable. Unbreachable. It's pathetic, isn't it? How two letters can make Mack feel so much like an outsider, as if he's looking into Will’s truest inner circle.
His chest tightens with a weird, defensive anger. It's not fair. Will is a Shark now. Like Mack. They spent the last two years practically living in each other's back pocket. So why do they get a permanent mark on Will's body, when it'll be Mack on the ice, not them, spearheading the charge to achieve Will's lifelong dream of winning the Stanley Cup?
RJ's shrill voice breaks through the static buzzing in Mack's ears. “When I’m older, Smitty, can we get a matching tattoo together?”
“Sure, bud,” Will says smoothly, much to the delight of his second biggest fan. Mack scoffs internally. What a joke. “If we can find something we both agree on.”
“Your body is a temple, and you shouldn’t desecrate it with something you’ll grow to regret!”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Okay, dad.”
Is that why… ugh, it must be.
This is what Mack gets for not going on his phone this morning! That’s why everyone was acting so weird at breakfast. But instead of telling him about it in advance, which would have allowed him to mentally prepare for the reveal that his best friend doesn’t love him, probably doesn't even like him, Will just had no other options during their rookie season and now he's stuck, they let him be blindsided!
And they have the audacity to say Mack is disloyal? He regrets not revealing more secrets!
The hand on his back starts moving in slow, soothing circles. Mack is the opposite of soothed. He's keyed up. Agitated. Tormented by the knowledge of never being good enough.
"You okay, Superstar?" Will whispers, smiling softly as if everything is peachy keen.
Mack screams incoherently in his head.
No, Smitty, I'm not, and I'll probably NEVER be again. And it's all your fucking fault. Not even laser removal would make me feel better at this point, because I'll always remember how you betrayed our friendship!
The urge to punch something is nearly suffocating, and the windows of his mom's brand new car - yet another thing Will prefers over Mack - are starting to look a little too good.
Oh god, he needs to get out of here.
Mack stomps off toward the house. “Hurry up, William, it’s hot as hell out here!” As an afterthought, he mutters to himself, “Probably because that’s precisely where we are.”
Aiden whistles at his retreating back. “Someone is overdue for a nap.”