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By the fourth day of training camp, holding Mack’s hand had somehow become normal.
Will wasn’t sure when that happened. Three weeks ago they’d sat beside each other at a baseball game with their hands six inches apart and apparently managed to make the entire internet weird about it. Now Mack was standing at the kitchen counter eating toast over the sink, and when Will passed him for probably the third time looking for his shoes, Mack caught two of his fingers and held on.
“I’m leaving.”
Mack took another bite. “Okay.”
“You’re making that difficult.”
“You can’t find your shoes.”
“I know where my shoes are.”
“You’ve been looking for them for ten minutes.”
“I’ve been looking for other shit.”
Mack looked down at their hands like he’d only just realized he was holding Will there. He pursed his lips to keep from smirking. “So go.”
“You’re literally holding onto me.”
That got a smile, but Mack let him go. Will found his shoes by the front door where he’d left them, which Mack didn’t need to know about.
The hand-holding thing had started almost immediately after the Giants game. At first Will had been very aware of it because, obviously, intentionally holding hands with Mack was different than all the other ways they’d spent years touching each other without thinking about it. The first night, Mack had turned his hand over on the couch and Will had spent way too long looking at it before finally taking it.
In the car two days later, Mack pushed his hand between Will’s bicep and his side, snaking it down to his forearm until Will automatically took his hand. All while they were arguing about where to get dinner. Then later that night, Will reached for Mack’s hand as he was falling asleep.
Now Mack apparently needed to hold his hand while eating breakfast.
The rink had been busy enough that Will hadn’t had much time to think about any of it. Training camp meant early mornings and long days and getting used to having his body hurt all the fucking time again. Mack, naturally, seemed to enjoy it.
“Psychopath,” Will told him after a drill.
Mack sprayed him with his water bottle.
It felt good to be back.
By the end of practice that day, Will was tired enough that sitting through the rest of the afternoon sounded like a personal attack. Mack was across the room talking to somebody when Will finished packing up, so he grabbed his bag and started toward the door with a few of the other guys.
“Smit.”
Will turned to see Mack staring at him from across the room. “You coming?”
“Yeah.”
That was apparently all Mack wanted. He went back to whatever conversation he’d been having while Will stood there like an idiot with his bag over his shoulder.
“Are we waiting?” somebody asked.
“Nah. I’ll catch up.”
Will leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone. Mack took another couple minutes. When he was finally done, he grabbed his stuff and walked over like Will standing there had been a foregone conclusion.
“You ready?”
Will pushed his lips in a tight line and narrowed his eyes. “Been ready.”
Mack nodded.
“That’s why I was leaving.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Will stared at him.
Mack grinned.
Will rolled his eyes, flipped him off and they headed out together.
Camp settled into a routine pretty quickly after that. They were at the rink more than they were home, which wasn’t exactly new, but Will had forgotten how fast the first week back could turn the rest of his life into background noise. Practice. Meetings. Video. Food whenever somebody remembered they needed it. Sleep. Repeat.
By Friday, there was almost nothing in their refrigerator.
“We have eggs,” Mack said when Will pointed this out that morning.
“We have two eggs.”
“That’s eggs.”
“We also have mustard and half a Gatorade.”
“So go to the store.”
“Why am I going?”
“Because you’re the one complaining.”
Will stared at the empty fridge. “God I’d rather be at the Marleau’s.”
Mack didn’t even look up from his phone. “No, you wouldn’t.” Unfortunately, that was true. They agreed to stop after practice, then both forgot.
Will got home first that night and made it as far as the couch. He turned the TV on mostly because the house was too quiet without it and had been there long enough to lose interest in getting back up when the front door finally opened.
Mack dropped his bag in the entryway.
“Don’t leave that there.”
“I’m not”. Will looked over the back of the couch. Mack was already walking away from it.
“Are you planning on moving it with your mind?”
“Later.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
Mack disappeared into the kitchen.
Will heard the fridge open and Mack pause.
“There’s nothing to fucking eat.”
Will smiled at the TV. “Really?”
He heard an exasperated breath and then, “Shut up.”
There was some cabinet opening and closing after that. Water ran. Will heard Mack moving around for another minute before he came back into the living room with a glass of water and nothing else.
The couch was empty except for Will.
Mack sat against him anyway.
Will shifted automatically so he could fit, lifting his arm while Mack shoved himself into his side and stretched his legs out across the cushion.
“You’re fucking heavy.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
“You’re literally on me.”
“Fine, I can move.” Mack pushed forward to sit up as Will grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer.
Mack shifted and sighed. He looked exhausted. Will could tell because he’d been home for almost five minutes and had only told Will to shut up once.
“You gonna fall asleep?”
“No.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m watching this.”
“You don’t even know what this is.”
Mack was quiet for a second.
“What is it?”
Will paused. Reluctantly said, “I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
Will laughed and felt Mack’s head move against his shoulder. Will had no idea how much time passed before Mack’s hand wandered up toward his neck. He was only half paying attention to the TV himself by then and assumed Mack was messing with his shirt until his fingers caught on his chain.
Mack rolled the chain between his fingers. Will’s breath caught. It was barely anything, just the light drag of silver against the back of his neck every time Mack moved his hand, but suddenly Will was very aware of exactly where Mack’s fingers were. He stayed still.
Mack didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were already drifting closed, his fingers moving slower against the chain until eventually they stopped. By the time Mack fell asleep, they were still loosely curled around it.
______
The next week disappeared into preseason.
Will wasn’t complaining. After an entire summer of skating and working out just to skate and work out some more, having actual games again made the long days at the rink worth it. Even if it also meant getting home late, eating at weird times, and waking up every morning with a new part of his body sore.
By Wednesday, Mack had started stealing his clothes.
Will came downstairs to find him sitting at the kitchen counter in one of his old BC hoodies, hood pulled over his head, staring at his phone while he chewed on one of the strings.
“Can you not eat my hoodie?”
Mack looked up and took the string out of his mouth. “I’m not.”
Will looked at the wet end of it exactly as Mack put it back in his mouth.
“Dude.”
“What?”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“It’s my hoodie.”
“Exactly.”
Will rolled his eyes and went to find something for breakfast. It wasn’t like Mack stealing his shit was new. Will had been finding his clothes mixed in with Mack’s for years. Shirts, sweatshirts, socks sometimes, which Mack denied even when Will knew for a fact they were his. Living together had only made it harder to keep track of any of it.
Not that Will really tried. He found the same hoodie on his side of the closet two days later with one string noticeably shorter than the other.
“Asshole,” he muttered. Still he put it on.
They had a game that night, another practice the next morning, and by the time they both ended up in bed at the same time again, Will felt like he hadn’t seen Mack anywhere except the rink in days.
That was actually ridiculous because he had seen him constantly. It just wasn’t the same.
Mack was beside him on his phone, lying on his stomach with one leg shoved halfway under the blanket. Will had been trying to watch something for the last ten minutes, but the volume was low and he wasn’t really following it.
Mack shifted halfway to face Will. A second later, he reached over and Will moved his arm to let him settle against his side. Almost immediately Mack’s fingers caught Will’s chain.
Will looked over.
Mack didn’t. He was still reading whatever was on his phone, running a few inches of silver between his fingers and letting it slip back again.
Will watched him do it twice.
“You keep playing with my chain.”
Mack looked over. “What?”
“My chain. You keep fucking with it.”
Mack glanced down at his hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He shrugged. “I like it.”
Will smiled before he could help it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Mack went back to his phone. His hand stayed where it was. Will went back to his own screen, smiling again when he felt the chain move against his neck.
The next afternoon, Mack got stuck at the rink. Will didn’t bother asking what for but he had a pretty good idea Grier was getting ready to name Mack captain. He’d already showered and changed, and Mack had waved him off when he’d walked by, so Will left with a couple of the guys and drove home alone.
The house was quiet when he got there.
He dumped his stuff, found something to eat, and ended up on the couch with the TV on. There were probably a dozen things he could’ve been doing. Laundry, for one. The dishwasher needed emptied. There was still shit sitting on the kitchen counter from the grocery store that neither of them had figured out where to put.
Will did none of it. He watched TV, checked his phone, watched more TV, then checked his phone again.
Mack hadn’t texted. Will sent him one.
smitty: you alive
The response came a couple minutes later.
mack: unfortunately
Will smiled.
smitty: how much longer
There was a longer pause this time.
mack: idk
mack: what’s up
Will looked at the question.
smitty: jw
The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back.
mack: sure
Will rolled his eyes and tossed his phone onto the couch.
Twenty minutes later, a car door slammed outside and he looked toward the front of the house.
Wrong car.
He went back to the TV, and another half hour passed before he finally heard the front door open. Will looked over immediately.
Mack walked in carrying his bag, took one look at him, and grinned. Not a normal grin either. The shitty one.
“Miss me?”
“No.”
Mack’s grin got worse.
Will huffed “Oh shut the fuck up.”
He could hear Mack’s answering laughter as he jogged up the stairs.
By the time Will followed him upstairs, Mack had showered and was already in bed. Will’s favorite hoodie’s hood was pulled up again, because apparently he’d decided it belonged to him now.
The string was in his mouth. Will stopped in the doorway.
“Seriously?”
Mack looked up confused.
Will pointed. “You’re fucking chewing it again.”
Mack pulled the string out of his mouth, rolled his eyes and turned over to fall asleep.
Will got into bed. He stayed up for a while, scrolling through his phone with the brightness turned down. Mack had started the night on his side of the bed, but that never lasted very long. At some point he’d rolled toward Will, and a few minutes after that his arm landed across Will’s stomach.
Will lowered his phone. Mack didn’t wake up.
His face was half buried in the pillow, hood finally fallen off sometime after he’d gone to sleep. His hair was sticking up in the back where it had rubbed against it. He always looked younger asleep. Will thought it might be because his face finally stayed still. No smirk. No glare. Nobody around for him to argue with.
A piece of hair had fallen across his forehead. Will reached over and pushed it back. Mack made some quiet noise and moved closer, his arm tightening across Will’s stomach.
Will smiled. “Clingy fucker.”
__________
Preseason was weird when you weren’t actually playing much.
Will understood the point. There was no reason to run either of them into the ground before the season even started, and he wasn’t exactly desperate to prove he could play hockey in September. Still, watching games was different than playing them, and by the time he and Mack finally got some limited time against Anaheim, Will had been ready to climb over the boards himself.
Mack was worse.
“You know pacing around isn’t gonna make them put you in, right?”
Mack stopped directly in front of him. “I’m not pacing.”
“You’ve walked past me like six times.”
“I’m getting water.”
“You have water.”
Mack looked down at the bottle in his hand, then back at a grinning Will. He sat down hard and tried to slow his breathing.
The waiting did mean they were practicing plenty, though, and by the end of the week Will was still tired enough that his legs felt heavy walking up the stairs. Mack apparently had energy left over solely for being annoying, which seemed unfair.
They stopped for food on the way home one night and ate most of it in the car. Mack left the rest sitting between them, then forgot about it until Will grabbed the bag when they pulled into the driveway.
“You gonna eat this?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“Yeah ok. You said that yesterday.”
“And I ate it.”
“At like midnight.”
Mack shrugged. “Still ate it.”
Will carried it inside anyway.
By the time they ended up on the couch, Mack had remembered the rest of his food and was eating it with his legs stretched across Will’s lap. Will had the remote, which had already caused an argument, and Mack was complaining about whatever he’d put on without offering a single alternative.
“You picked last time.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“We didn’t watch anything yesterday.”
Will thought about it. “Tuesday.”
“It’s Friday.”
“Whatever. Same week.”
Mack rolled his eyes and took another bite as Will stretched one arm across the back of the couch and let the argument die there. Mack finished eating eventually, dropped the empty container onto the coffee table and shifted until one of his knees ended up over Will’s thigh. It happened without either of them paying attention. Most things with Mack did.
Will rested his hand on his knee. He moved his thumb once. Mack immediately stopped talking. Will looked over to see Mack was still staring at the television, but the sentence he’d been in the middle of had apparently disappeared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Will looked back at the TV. His thumb moved again. Mack’s eyes dropped to his hand.
Oh.
Will looked down too. It wasn’t like he’d never touched Mack’s leg before. He’d probably done it a thousand times. They’d spent years shoving each other around, leaning on each other, grabbing whatever was closest. Will had fallen asleep with half his body on top of him before.
Still, Mack had definitely stopped talking. Will moved his thumb again, slower and a little higher this time. Mack looked at him. No glare. No smirk. He just looked at him. Will’s stomach did something weird.
“You know what you’re doing,” Mack said.
Will almost asked what he meant. Instead he moved his thumb again. Mack’s eyes narrowed.
Will smiled. “Do I?”
“Fuck you.”
There was the glare. Mack still didn’t move his leg. Will left his hand where it was.
The weird thing was that he kept thinking about it afterward. Not constantly or anything. He had other shit going on. There were practices and meetings and the game against Anaheim, and one morning Mack nearly started a fight with the coffee machine because it took too long. Will forgot laundry in the washer until it smelled weird and they had to run the entire load again. Somebody left takeout in Will’s car overnight and neither of them would admit whose it was.
Normal shit.
Except sometimes Will touched Mack now and waited. He didn’t make a whole thing out of it. Half the time he probably would’ve touched him anyway. His hand landed on Mack’s knee while they were sitting at a red light, and instead of moving it when the light changed, he left it there. He passed behind Mack in the kitchen one morning and caught the back of his neck with his fingers on the way by. A couple days later Mack was standing directly in front of the cabinet Will needed, so Will put both hands on his waist and moved him instead of telling him to get the fuck out of the way.
Mack went. Then he turned around and stared at him. Will opened the cabinet.
“What?”
Mack narrowed his eyes. Will grabbed a glass.
“Use your words, Celebrini.”
“Fuck off.”
Will laughed and walked away. He was starting to understand why Mack was such a pain in the ass. It was kind of fun.
The chain thing kept happening too. Usually in bed or on the couch, although Mack apparently didn’t see why being in a moving vehicle should stop him. Will was driving one afternoon when Mack leaned halfway across the center console and caught it between his fingers.
“You’re gonna make me crash.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re practically in my lap.”
“Drive better.”
Will laughed and shoved him back toward his seat. Mack went willingly, but not before letting the chain run through his fingers one last time.
They were on their way to get coffee because Mack had decided he needed it, although apparently not badly enough to drive himself. Will didn’t want anything, so when they got there he stayed in the car while Mack went inside.
He was answering a text when Mack came back out and tossed something into his lap.
Will caught it. A chocolate chip cookie.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know.”
“Then why’d you get it?”
Mack shrugged as he buckled his seatbelt. “You like those.”
Will looked at the cookie and then over at him. Mack had already moved on, messing with the air vent like he hadn’t just gone inside for himself and come back with something for Will too. He opened the wrapper.
“You want some?”
“Nah.”
“You bought it.”
“For you.”
Will took a bite. At the next red light, Mack reached over and broke a piece off anyway.
_________
Will saw the chain four days later.
He wasn’t looking for one. He’d stopped on the way home because he’d been putting off buying a new pair of sunglasses for most of the summer, and after spending ten minutes trying on different pairs only to decide they all looked basically the same, he’d given up and started toward the door.
The jewelry case was on the way out.
He would’ve walked straight past it if a thin silver chain near the end hadn’t caught the light.
Will stopped. It was simple. No pendant, nothing flashy. Just silver, a little thinner than his own.
Mack would like that.
The thought came so easily that Will had taken another few steps before he realized he’d had it.
He stopped again and looked back. Then he turned around.
Mack was home when he got there, sitting at the kitchen counter eating something directly out of a container. He glanced up when Will came in and immediately looked at the empty space where sunglasses should’ve been.
“Didn’t get any?”
“No.”
“You were gone for like an hour.”
“I got something else.”
Mack nodded like that sounded about right and went back to eating. Will stood there for a second with the small box still in his pocket. He hadn’t thought much about how he was actually going to give it to him.
Apparently he should have.
“Here.”
Mack looked up just in time to catch the box Will tossed at him.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
Mack gave him a look but set his food aside and pulled the top off.
Then he went quiet. Will leaned back against the counter trying not to look as awkward as he felt.
Mack lifted the chain out with one finger. It slipped through his hand until he caught it, silver pooling against his palm.
For some reason, Will suddenly wished he’d come up with something better to say.
“Why’d you get me this?”
Will shrugged but he felt his cheeks go pink. “You said you liked mine.”
Mack looked at him. There was something about the way he did it that made Will feel like maybe he’d missed part of the conversation. He’d never seen Mack look so soft.
“So,” Will added.
Mack’s eyes dropped back to the chain.
“I do.”
Will didn’t know if he meant his or the one in his hand. He didn’t ask. Mack put it on. That should’ve been the end of it.
Mostly, it was.
For dinner they ordered food because neither of them wanted to cook. Mack complained that Will picked the place last time. Will reminded him that buying coffee didn’t count as choosing dinner. They ate on the couch with a game playing on the TV and eventually ended up upstairs because they had to be at the rink early.
Normal night.
Except Will kept seeing the chain.
When Mack tipped his head back to finish his drink, it caught the light at his throat. Later, when he pulled his shirt off, the silver moved against his chest before settling back into place and Will felt his heart rate speed up every time.
He hadn’t taken it off. Will tried not to stare at it. He wasn’t particularly successful.
By the time they got into bed, Mack had apparently gotten used to it being there. He’d spent half the evening touching it without realizing it, catching it between his fingers while he watched TV or sliding a thumb underneath it when he was thinking.
Will noticed every time.
Now Mack was lying beside him wearing the chain Will had picked out while his fingers played with Will’s.
There was probably something ridiculous about that but Will didn’t feel like making fun of it.
They’d been talking for a while without really talking about anything. Practice. Something one of the guys had said earlier. Whether they had time to sleep another twenty minutes in the morning if they showered at the rink instead.
Mack’s fingers moved slowly over Will’s chain while they talked.
Will watched them for a minute.
“Can I ask you something?”
Mack glanced at him. “You just did.”
Normally Will would’ve told him to fuck off.
Instead he smiled. “Were you always like this?”
“Like what?”
Will didn’t really know how to phrase it.
“With people.”
Mack’s eyebrows pulled together.
Will tried again. “Like before me.”
Mack’s fingers slowed.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” Will looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve dated girls before. Not a ton or anything, but enough.”
Mack’s fingers stopped and his eyes snapped up to Will’s.
It was fast. Barely anything. But Will saw it—the flash across Mack’s face before he could pull it back. His mouth tightened, brows drawing together slightly as he stared at Will.
Hurt. Will knew it as soon as he saw it but Mack was trying very hard to look unphased.
“Not like this.” Mack still didn’t move.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know.”
Mack looked back down.
His fingers were still curled around the chain, completely still now. Will shifted a little closer.
“I’ve liked people before,” he said. “I’ve wanted to date people. Hook up. Whatever. I’m not saying none of that was real.”
Mack bit the inside of his cheek as his thumb moved once against the silver but didn’t start playing with it again.
“But-“ Will took a breath in. “It wasn’t… this.”
Mack was quiet for a few seconds.
“Okay. And what’s this?”
Will let out his breath. That was apparently the question.
“I don’t fucking know.”
Mack looked at him again. Cautious but not upset.
Will smiled a little. “I mean it. That’s the problem.”
He thought about it. With everybody else, there had been a beginning. Someone he thought was pretty. A conversation that went somewhere. The first time he realized he wanted to kiss them. The first date. Things happened in an order that made sense. He tried to find that with Mack.
Vancouver, maybe.
No. Before that.
Their rookie year? Except Mack had already been the person Will looked for when he walked into a room by then. Every time Will thought he’d found the beginning, Mack was already there.
“I can’t figure out when it started,” he said.
Mack’s eyes stayed on him, carefully searching.
“I keep thinking of something, and then I remember something before it. And something before that.”
The corner of Mack’s mouth moved.
“Slow?”
“Shut up.”
Mack’s smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came, but his fingers finally started moving over the chain again.
Will watched them.
“With everybody else, I had to make room for them.”
Mack looked up and Will swallowed. “You didn’t need room. You were already fucking everywhere.”
For a second Mack just stared at him. Then he looked down again, and Will saw his shoulders loosen. The chain slipped slowly through his fingers.
“What about you?” Will asked.
Mack’s hand stopped again, but differently this time. Frozen.
“What about me?”
“Before this.”
Mack stared at the chain long enough that Will wondered if he was going to answer at all.
“There wasn’t really a before this.”
Will waited. Mack pulled the chain between two fingers, studying it like there was something written there.
“I mean, there were girls.” He stopped. Will stayed quiet.
“Not girlfriends, really. I had friends who were girls. Girls I thought were pretty. A couple I thought I liked.”
Another pause as he glanced up, searching Will’s eyes. He seemed to make a decision and pretended to be very interested in the chain again. “Or tried to like, maybe.”
Mack tugged the chain a little tighter, then seemed to notice and let it go slack again.
He exhaled. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“No.” Mack shook his head. “I do. I just—”
He stopped again. Will didn’t help him. Mack chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes still down.
“I liked them fine. I just never wanted anything from them.”
“Anything?”
“More, I guess.” The words came slowly, like Mack was checking each one before he let Will have it.
“I’d like talking to somebody or hanging out with them. Think they were pretty. Whatever.” His thumb moved over one of the links. “But then everybody always wanted the next thing.”
He paused.
“Go out. Date. Kiss them. All that shit.”
Will watched him.
“And I didn’t.”
Mack’s voice had gotten quieter.
“I didn’t care if we did.” His fingers stopped again.
“So after a while I figured maybe I just didn’t want that.” He finally looked at Will, but only for a second before his eyes dropped back to the chain.
“Any of it.” Something in Will’s chest pulled tight. Mack kept going before he could say anything.
“It wasn’t even a big deal. That’s the thing.” He shrugged, but it didn’t look particularly convincing with his fingers wound around Will’s chain. “I wasn’t upset about it. I wasn’t sitting around wishing I had somebody. I didn’t feel like anything was missing.”
Will stayed quiet. Mack swallowed.
“I had hockey.” Will reached over and closed his hand around Mack’s wrist. Mack’s fingers went still beneath his.
“You still have hockey.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s different?”
Mack didn’t answer right away. He stared at the chain between his fingers. Will could feel his pulse beneath his thumb. He softly circled his thumb there.
Then Mack looked at him.
“You.”
Will moved closer. He didn’t decide to. There wasn’t much left to decide.Mack watched him come closer as his eyes dropped to Will’s mouth and stayed there for half a second before coming back up. He didn’t move.
For once, Mack didn’t do anything.
Will understood. He slid his hand from Mack’s wrist into his palm, their fingers fitting together the way they had a hundred times already.
Then he kissed him.
Mack froze. Only for a heartbeat. Then his hand tightened around Will’s and he kissed him back.
Will had wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if it would feel strange. They knew each other too well. He knew the shape of Mack’s hands and the weight of his head against his shoulder. He knew what his hair felt like between his fingers and how warm his skin got when he slept. There weren’t many pieces of Mack left that felt unfamiliar.
This was. Mack’s mouth was warm and softer than Will expected, and for the first few seconds Will couldn’t think about much beyond the fact that this was Mack and they were actually fucking doing this.
Then Mack shifted closer. His free hand caught in the front of Will’s shirt, pulling him in, and whatever restraint he’d had before Will kissed him seemed to disappear all at once.
Will smiled against his mouth. Mack pulled back just enough to glare at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t.”
Will kissed him again before Mack could decide he was being made fun of. That one lasted longer. Mack’s hand left his shirt and found the back of Will’s neck. His fingers caught briefly against the chain there before sliding into his hair, and Will felt Mack smile this time. Will kissed him until he needed to breathe, then pulled back an inch.
Mack followed him but he didn’t seem to realize he’d done it. Will did. His smile came back. Mack’s eyes narrowed.
Will couldn’t help it. “Sooo. How long?”
Mack immediately knew what he meant.
“Nope.”
“Mack.”
“I’m not telling you.”
Will bit back a grin, “That long?”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
Will laughed, and Mack kissed him again. It worked. For a while there wasn’t much talking at all. Which, Will thought somewhere in the middle of it, was probably for the best. They’d done enough of that.
Eventually Mack ended up half on top of him, one knee shoved between Will’s legs and his head resting against Will’s shoulder while they caught their breath. Will’s hand moved lazily over his back.
Mack was quiet not upset quiet. Just quiet.
Will looked down. The new chain lay against Mack’s throat, slightly crooked now. He reached up and caught it between his fingers. Mack’s eyes opened.
“What?”
Will let the silver slide slowly through his fingers. Mack watched him. Will smiled.
“Nothing.”
Mack rolled his eyes. But he didn’t move away. For a while they stayed like that. Mack’s head found its way back to Will’s shoulder, their hands resting against Will’s stomach. The room had gone quiet except for the low hum of the fan and Mack’s breathing, which had finally evened back out.
Will ran his thumb over the side of Mack’s hand. It was strange how normal that felt. The kissing didn’t. Will could still feel that everywhere.
He looked down at Mack again.
His hair was a mess now, worse than usual. His mouth was a little red. The new chain rested against his throat, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, and Will had the sudden urge to kiss him again just because he could.
Mack made a surprised sound when Will caught his chin and tipped his face up, but he was smiling before Will even reached him. The kiss was shorter this time. Softer. When Will pulled away, Mack stayed close enough that their noses brushed. They breathed in each other’s air until Mack was almost asleep again, warm and heavy against him. Will closed his eyes.
Tomorrow they’d wake up too early. They’d spend most of the day at the rink and come home exhausted and do all of it again. It would look almost exactly like yesterday.
Will liked that.
Except now he could kiss him.