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Mack prefers calling instead of texting; having a conversation by talking is quicker than texting, especially when you're not the quickest typer (unlike your boyfriend) or the most literally gifted guy.
He also happens to love his boyfriend's voice.
Luckily Will knows all this, so when they're unable to have a proper call, he tends to leave Mack voice messages. Especially in times like these, when they're apart in different continents, separated by time zones, too many things, seriously why do they have such busy schedules in the off seasons? It's like they're hustling so much more than during season. Mack can't even keep up with whatever side quest Will Smith Hockey has most recently replaced the 'hockey' in this name with.
The voice messages are never about anything important or particular, just Will babbling away of his day, random thoughts that pop into his head, interrupting his rambles by cooing to a dog he comes across while recording. Doesn't matter if it's his own dog Riggs or a random dog: all dogs are Will's best friends (after Mack, Mack likes to believe).
Mack clicks play on Will's most recent voice message for the umpteenth time. He's listened to it too many times to count: listened to Will ramble about the MayeDay charity softball event he's just heading to, fretting over if he's just going to miss every hit, if people boo at him, because Will might act like the most chill guy, but he's honestly a little bit neurotic. Will only refers to Mack's game by telling Mack he loves him no matter what the result, and wishing him good luck. Mack appreciates it - Will knows him better than to invade his head space right before the puck drops with superficial hyping.
Mack flinches as someone taps him on the shoulder. He's been shut out from the world with his headphones on and a beanie pulled deep down on his head. Leaning his head on the, he's watched the sun set over Zurich from the bus. They're back at the hotel.
And of course, because nothing goes the way Mack hopes today, the entrance is flocked with fans. Red Canada jerseys loom like an unpassable wall between the team's bus and the hotel door. Mack takes a deep breath, gets up from his seat and exits the bus. He presses play on Will's voice message again, letting it invade his ears and mind as the puts up a smile on his face, poses for pictures and signs things, nodding and saying 'thank you' where applicable. And finally, he's done his last duty as Captain Canada, and he enters the hotel, Will's voice still bringing comfort in his ears.
--
Mack would normally consider 7AM way too early, inhumane, to be awake at after a night of drinking away your disappointments with your team. Will's actual live voice on the other end of his phone make the headache and exhaustion worth it, though. Mack's clearly stronger than he gives himself credit for.
"And winning wasn't even the best part, but I got to meet Miss Peaches the dog!"
"I know, you sent me like, a dozen pics and a few videos. Plus it's all over my socials. Will Smith Dogwhisperer."
Will repeats it, as if familiarising himself it. "Nah," he says eventually. "Doesn't have any flow to it."
"Okay, Will Smith Home-run Champ or what was it. You had fun, though? Anyone boo at you?"
"No," Will says happily. "And don't say you told me so."
Mack complies. Instead: "Are you stroking your trophy right now?"
Will chuckles, his voice dropping to a low rasp, the one that Mack feels in several parts of his body. "Is that a euphemism?"
"No, I mean your actual trophy."
"Too bad," Will murmurs, "I was so ready to be euphemised."
"That's not a word."
"I just used it as a word. It's a word," Will's defense cuts off with a big yawn. "But yeh, the trophy, I donated it to be auctioned."
"Pity. Was a nice trophy."
"Not as nice as raising money for kids."
"Do you want me to bid on it to get it back to you?"
Will's low chuckle rumbles on Mack's ears, and he closes his eyes, as if to feel it more, hear it for longer.
"As if I don't have money myself. What am I, your trophy wife?"
"You don't even have a trophy."
"Excuse me," Will says, perking up from his sleepy state, "I have plenty."
"Yeh yeh, I know. Juniors at Worlds. Men at Worlds. Softball. Homeruns. Pageantry, probably." Mack's not even upset about it. "Did well. Am proud. Looked hot. Saw that video where your shirt goes up your bare back. Gonna lick your spine all over."
Mack has the video saved on his Instagram. If he weren't so open to Will about how obsessed he is with him, he'd feel a bit embarrassed about how many times he's watched it already.
The line goes quiet, but it's not uncomfortable. Sometimes, when the time zones suck and they catch each other with the other barely awake and the other half asleep, they sometimes do this: fall asleep together, just listening to each other breathing. They're both obsessed and embarrassing. Mack loves it.
But Will's not asleep.
"I'm proud of you, too."
"We were fourth. Nothing to be proud of, losing the bronze."
"At least you made it to the semis this year."
"Too soon."
"And you beat the US."
"Okay definitely too soon."
"Must've felt good, though."
Mack makes a noncommittal sound.
"I'm proud of you as a captain, Mack. I saw how sad and upset you were, but you still went to the media with your head held high. I know it wasn't easy. But you did it. You were the captain. That's growth."
Mack has no words, he's busy biting his lip so that the tears prickling behind his eyelids stay put.
"Baby, I'm so proud of you," Will repeats softly.
Mack sniffs. "Don't say that."
"Don't you wanna make me proud?" And Will's voice, his words, the combination of them does something to Mack - he always wants Will to be proud of him, wants to do Will proud, Will knows this.
"You don't have to say it when you don't mean it."
"I never say things I don't mean, Mack, not to you. You know I'm honest and upfront with you."
Mack hums, trying to believe Will.
"But I am proud," Will says firmly. "Yeah, losing the bronze must suck, but the way you handled it, the captain that you are... You pulled yourself together and handled media and everything. I know you can do hockey, Mack, fuck, you do it better than anyone I know, but seeing you do things you hate and struggle with... and you still did them. That's so you, Mack. I'm always so proud of you, babe."
And this, this right here, means more than anything to Mack. Being praised for something that was hard, that was just on him, that he did by himself. Being praised by the person who knows him better than anyone else does. Will knows how Mack often struggles in the public eye with being just Mack, a 19-year old kid with the world's eyes on him, and not being Macklin Celebrini, the hockey player hiding behing the hockey player persona. Mack doesn't struggle with playing ice hockey; he struggles with insecurity of being accepted for who he is outside of it.
People often describe Mack as being confident. It's true, as long as he has his skates on, as long as he's padded up and wearing a tarp. Mack knows he's great on ice, and while it's nice to hear compliments about that, it doesn't feel as personal and as sincere. Especially not after a hurtful loss - and Mack's had his fair share of losses - when his team mates, coaches, his parents, media all have words they think are comforting, but don't really mean anything. Not when Mack gets into a space in his head that's dark and lonely. Except there's always a little hole, a tiny space for Will to squeeze himself through, and then it's not so lonely or dark anymore.
--
Mack squints his eyes at Will on the phone screen. "Use it in a sentence." There's a challenge in his voice. Online Scrabble knows no romantic ties.
"I smittyd my way into your heart." Will looks unnecessary proud of himself.
"You're so stupid," Mack says and it sounds like a love confession.
He loves that Will still flirts with him, and that they flirt so much - though some people sometimes think they're just constantly arguing and bickering. Like an old married couple, they've been told. Mack loves to think about it.
"Fine," Mack huffs, throwing his hands in the air.
Will does a little shimmy on his screen. "And again! Scrabble remains smittyd!"
"Fine, fine," Mack says defeatedly. "Guess you're the multi-winner in this family."
Will stops his shimmying and looks Mack dead in the eye. "Family?"
Mack can feel his neck get warmer, a tell-tale sign he's soon about to be blushing and embarrassed. "I mean..."
"You think we're a family?" Will looks at Mack curiosly.
"I don't know," Mack mumbles. He can't read Will's tone.
"Cute," Will then says, his expression still unreadable. "But I think the official definition of family is like, adults with kids. Or bloodties, or ancestry."
And they've kind of talked about it, but they've also not talked about it. Kids. They know they both want kids, and they want them with each other, but it's still too far in the future. So they don't talk about the logistics, or timelines, or what it'd mean for them.
But they both want it.
"How many kids?" Mack asks quietly.
"I don't think it matters. Could be one or like, I dunno, how many kids can a family have. It's not defined, I don't think."
"No, I meant... like, for us. How many would you want." Yeah, Mack's definitely beetroot red now.
But Will, his best Will, doesn't mock him, doesnl't make fun, doesn't say it's too soon to be thinking about that kind of stuff. Instead, Will goes along with it.
"Not two. Me and Grace lucked out in that we actually like each other as people."
"Not four," Mack looks shocked. "That's way too much."
"Compromise on three?"
"But what if they like, gang up on one?"
"What, who did you guys gang up on?"
"You mean who did they gang up on," Mack mutters and Will laughs. "Aiden's the oldest and the leader, so none of us would've dared. Charlie's the only girl so obviously couldn't be her. And RJ is everyone's favourite little baby."
Will laughs. "He's not a baby anymore."
Mack rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it's like, you don't have younger siblings. You are the baby, Will. Ask anyone in your family. Grace still talks about you as her baby brother."
Will nods, and then shakes his head. "Nah. Our kids wouldn't gang up on anyone. We'd raise them right."
"What, you're saying I wasn't raised right?" Mack feigns offence.
"Oh you were. So nice and polite."
"Nice and polite? That's all that you think I am?" Mack's now moping.
"Don't try to fish for compliments. It's not cure," Will says, looking awfully endeared. He pokes his screen with his finger tip to approximately where Mack's nose is on his screen. He looks like he thinks Mack is super cute.
"You know I love getting compliments."
"I can beat your siblings up in your honor the next time I see them. Rescue you from your childhood trauma."
"Chilhood? Who says it's not still going on? You should see our family chat."
Will giggles. "I've seen your family chat, babe. It's not ganging up on you, they're not even trying to roast you."
Mack looks incredulous. "I thought you were supposed to be observant."
"They're not roasting you, babe, 'cause there's no need," Will has difficulties keeping his face stratight. "You roast yourself by just existing." was more insightful and observant than that.
Mack hangs up.
Will laughs, not even worried about Captain Spazzbrini actually being angry with him. He's been doing so well keeping his composure while shouldering the weight of a whole ass national team; he was due to have a bit of a fit at some point.
As expected, as always, Will's phone rings in about five minutes.
"Took you longer than normal," Will says as a hello.
"You're lucky you're cute. Had to watch that video of your bare back again to calm down, so I'm feeling forgiving towards you." Mack looks displeased about this fact.
"Feeling blessed."
"You should."
"Sooo. Did you look it up?"
"I did," Mack rolls his eyes and looks like he's in physical discomfort.
"And?" Will sounds like he's trying to encourage a shy child to come to view from under a table.
"Youwereright," Mack quickly exhales the words all mumbled up. Will quirks up an eyebrow and Mack sighs reluctantly. "You were right. A family would include one or more parents and their children."
"And ideally a dog."
"And ideally a dog," Mack agrees. "But I found this one definition that I think fits us already, you and me and our future dog, I guess."
Mack clears his throat. His voice sounds like it's coming from further away suddenly, he's probably put Will on speaker so he can read his screen.
"Family consists of the people who support and love you, and the people you can confide in and trust."
--
"I wanna rescue," Will tells Mack as soon as Mack accepts the FaceTime request.
"Rescue who? Is someone in trouble?"
"Ha.ha. Funny guy."
"We can't have a pup, Will," Mack says but it doesn't soud like he's telling Will - he's asking, seeking some sense into wanting to just give in and have all the dogs Will is currently surrounded by at the Stanley Pup dog adoption charity event.
"Doesn't need to be a pup, I want a rescure. Maybe like an older one? They're usually a lot less popular than puppies," Will looks at Mack with puppy eyes. "We can make it work."
"We can?" Mack says, but it doesn't sound like a question. It sounds like an agreement.
Shit. While they haven't really talked about kids, not realistically, just in vague hopes, dogs are a whole other thing. They've spent coupious hours of doing dog breed tests to see what would fit them, argued over names, checked adoption sights, tried to plan how a dog would fit into their life.
And after every discussion, they'e agreed that it wouldn't work, but the last few times have felt like maybe, just maybe, they've started to find solutions more than impossibilities.
"Show me," Mack whispers.
Will turns the camera from his own face to the room he's currently in. It's crowded with people, a fake hockey rink (puppy sized) in the middle of the room. Will kneels down and slowly moves his phone around, so Mack can see the small dogs currently invading the space. Four-legged love balls are barking, yippying, wagging their tails, sniffing each other and carrying different kinds of hockey themed toys around.
Neither Will nor Mack says a word: they just take the sight in, making unvoluntary sounds of happiness.
"They're all puppies, though," Mack whispers, sounding sad about it.
"Yeah, and they're all adopted by now, I think, which, I mean, great for them," Will also sounds sad about it.
"So, what? I'm not going to come home to one to three dogs that you've kidnapped? Dognapped?"
"I guess not, sadly," Will frowns. "Would've gotten you, though. You're the best."
Mack groans. He'd forgotten about, well, himself for a bit. "Macklin Celewienie. I don't wanna be called a Wienie."
"You sound more like a whiner to me," Will says as his screen goes a bit blurry. He's clearly moving from having been sat still.
There are so many dogs everywhere. The barking and the excited puppy noises are making Mack's fingertips itch; tickle as if they're electrified. He has to get his hands on something cute and soft to pet immediately. Bonus points if the cute and soft pettable thing licks his fingers or his face. Puppies or Will, he's not fussed. Equally cute and adorable.
"There you are!" Will's voice gets high-pitched from excitement as he spots the brown dachshund sporting a purple Sharks scarf (proudly, Mack would like to add). She's mostly dark brown except for her light brown legs and almost golden spots on her face. The dog patters to Will and hops towards his legs, as Will kneels down to pet and cuddle the dog.
"This is Celewienie," Will introduces the eager puppy to Mack. "Or Lola's her real name. She's just like you, Mack. Constantly yapping. Out there taking on bigger dogs. Waddling around with the tiny, short legs like she owns the place."
"I don't have tiny legs! Or short legs," Mack mutters all red. "We can't all have legs a mile long, like you."
"Your legs are great, babe. Wouldn't change them for anything." Will coos, to Mack or Lola, Mack's not certain.
"Not even for a puppy?"
"What? How'd that even work? You'd just be your upper body, and then two pups as legs?"
Mack gives him the attention he deserves, which is none. "Happy, playful and affectionate. Lola is always ready for fun and cuddles," he reads out his - Celewienie's - descprition from the Stanley Pup website.
"See, Lola," Will tells her happily, "you're just like your namesake!"
Lola looks at Will, and Mack makes an unvoluntarily embarrassing little sound, which seems to catch her attention. She looks straight into Mack's eyes, Mack's pretty sure.
"Is she, uhm," Mack swallows, "adopted?"
Will takes his eyes off Lola and turns the camera so that Mack can see one of Will's patented eyebrow raises. They have a silent conversation, because they wouldn't want to upset their possible dog baby right away with arguing parents. Pawrents.
"She is," Will finally says, regrettingly. "Want me to go ask someone if, uhm, there's any that aren't?"
"Nope," Mack says firmly and sees a glimpse of disappointment in Will's eyes. "I'm on it."
Will laughs and cuddles Macklin the dog, while Macklin the person scrolls through the Stanley Pup website. He knows they might be irrational, but... He feels his heart beat in a way it often does, when he's doing something that scares him, something that feels huge, but so right - it's like an out of body experience, where he just decides to trust his gut, feeling like something is about to change profoundly. It has lever led him wrong. Not when he and Will kissed the first time, not when he told Will he loved him.
And not now, as he's willing to leave it up to fate or whatever and check the website if their dog is there, if there's someone who'd feel just right.
"Stop biting your nail," he tells Will offhandedly, not lifting his eyes from his phone. Will immediately stops biting his thumbnail, letting his hand drop down from his mouth.
"Lots of players have dogs. They can do it, why couldn't we," Will says, his voice a little shaky from excitement and nerves. "I mean, I know we can do this."
Mack leans back, having finished his frantic search. "Okay. Two dogs still available. Turn the camera, I need to see your face."
"Sorry Wienie," Will apologies to the dog, scratching behind her ear and turning the camera to his face.
"So the Ducks dog..."
"No," Will blurts out immediately. "No Ducks. And don't tell me which one it is, I don't wanna fall in love with a Ducks dog."
"Probably the one with the, you know, Ducks scarf?" Mack suggests dryly. And Will has the audacity to pretend like he's the less dumb of them two. "Then the other one is..." Mack takes a deep breath. "I hope you're ready."
Will closes his eyes, inhales and shakes his hand that's not holding his phone as if doing a final warm-up. "I'm ready."
"Florida Panthers one."
"Alright, don't mind Cats. Haven't seen that one yet. Different conference."
"Will, this is perfect. This is our dog." The utter feeling of certainty makes Mack grin bigger than he probably ever has. "Her name, or I assume it's a her, don't wanna mistake especially during Pride month," Mack's rambling and Will gestures with his hand to get on with it, "her name's Coco Puffs."
Will's face "We love Coco Puffs."
"I mean, it's like hot chocolate but cold, how would anyone not love it?" Mack's forehead scrunches like he's offended by the idea.
Will nods in agreement. "Tell me more."
"Her hockey name is... are you ready?" Mack looks like he's in heaven. "Brad Marchound."
Will yelps. "BRAD MARCHOUND?"
"Canadian. And a Bruin. Boston." Mack nods.
"ohmygod," Will mutters. "Gotta go find her right away." He starts moving on the screen. "Tell me more," he urges Mack.
"The website says she's sweet, loyal and calm, - kinda like you, except right now - Coco Puffs is the perfect companion for cozy nights and quiet walks."
"Cozy and quiet," Will repeats as if tasting the feel in his mouth, "we have lots of cozy nights."
"We're not that quiet though," Mack says hesitantly.
"She'll get used to it. Maybe she's just preferres quiet before she could hear our excellent conversations," Will thinks and suddenly stops still. "She's here," he whispers to Mack.
Will turns the camera, as he kneels down next to a cozy dog bed, on which a small brown tortoise coloured dog is snoozing. Her paws are white and her face is half white with a black nose. She's got fuzzy hair on her chin, much like the ridiculous excuses of beards Will and Mack sometimes sport.
"Hi baby Puffs," Will whispers as he extends his hand out for the dog to sniff. The dog opens one eye lazily, stares at Will and Mack on the phone for a bit, and then licks Will's fingertips.
Mack adds a countdown to his calendar. Now, alongside his countdown to seeing Will next, is a countdown on when Puffs comes home. A home he and Will will finally share.
--
Mack's explaining in great ordeal his visit to the juniors Kings of Spring tournament in Vancouver.
"It was brutal, Will, brutal." Mack sounds like he's still out of breath, with a bit of awe in his voice. As if he's just done something he didn't quite believe could ever happen to him, and now he's being humbly amazed that it did in fact happen to him.
Will laughs. "Oh please. As if you didn't ever do that to Sidney Crosby. Sorry, Sidney Crosbeeeh," Will makes a poor impersonation of a drunken Mack's pronounciation on the streets of Switzerland, captured on a video from Worlds.
"I didn't!" Mack's quick to defend himself furiously. "Dad told me not to. Said I shouldn't embarrass myself in front of someone I'd be playing with one day."
"Cocky," Will says fondly. He's able to vividly imagine a young Mack being all excited over his lifelong idol, only to be told off by his dad. Rick is, at times, a pro in dampening Mack's enthusiasm. Will's unsure Mack's ever really been able to just be a kid, so he's happy to accommodate Mack. Will's blessed for Mack to trust him enough to never be anything but exactly who he is with Will.
And it's the same for Will. He's never really been told to be something he's not, or more specifically, been told to not be something that he is - no one had to. He'd figured it out all by himself from early on, so he'd just went with it. He knew what was expected and accepted of him. So these days, he feels more relaxed to go on his whimsical sidequests, and he feels free and light to be the way he really is with Mack. Silly, affectionate, in love.
"Bet you've told Sid about this, though," Will teases Mack. "Bet you got drunk and fanboyed all over, telling about how cool you were as a kid. Being all nonchalant. Undoing all of that kid's coolness."
Mack blushes, grunts and rolls his eyes. "Unfair."
"Unfair? What, you didn't do all that?"
"Unfair that you know me so well," Mack mumbles. A moment of silence passes. "He was cool about it, though. He just laughed."
Will smiles at that, probably with the smile Mack often says is one of his favourite smiles of Will's. Then again, Mack has said that about all of Will's smiles. This one is the very soft, the very endeared, the quiet smile that's not all bright and shiny, but a shy, secret smile. The one where Will's heart is about to burst, but he tries to keep it in once piece.
"Happy you're okay though," Will then says. "Looked kinda stressfull. All those kids running around and mobbing you."
"Yeh," Mack says slowly. "I wasn't... like, you know I'm all for kids and juniors, but it wasn't like, pleasant, I guess. There was so many of them."
"Maybe they were trying to come at you for wearing a double hoodie," Will muses. "Seriously, what was that? Stressed me the fuck out. Two hoodies on top of each other? In the summer?"
Mack shakes his head, like he sometimes does, when he can't fathom that Will can't fathom something so clear to him. "I panicked."
"About what? Sudden re-emergence of ice age? I know ice halls, even in Vanc, aren't that cold. I've been to most of them."
"It was your hoodie underneath, okay?" Mack blushes. "I didn't realize, it has your name, obviously I couldn't just get bombarded and shot with a Smith hoodie. So I had to throw one on top. I was sweating my ass off."
"So you didn't think to just... you know, take my hoodie off and wear only the one on top?"
"I.." Mack looks confused, like the thought had never even occured to him. "No, I didn't think of that." He looks embarrassed about his not-that-uncharacteristic lack of common sense. "Just didn't wanna accidentally leave it behind, you know. Lose it somewhere in the depths of a rink. You'd never see it again, it'd sell for big bucks on eBay or something."
"Thanks for rescuing my hoodie, then", Will says, fully aware that the hoodie is definitely not his anymore.
"It felt like you were there. Protecting me."
"I'm happy to rescue from herds of overly excited fanboys in the future."
"Oh please," Mack rolls his eyes, "you are the most overly excited fanboy."
Will's not even going to bother to try and deny that. "Well, you deserve it. Considering you've rescued me plenty of times."
"Oh? What have I rescued you from?"
Will looks at Mack, being a bit flirty, fishing for compliments because, as he has confessed to Will ages ago, he loves getting them and especially loves getting them from Will. He thinks about how it's been too long since he saw his boyfriend, how it's still going to be a while before he sees him again, but it's ok. They get to do their own things, fulfill their other commitments, all the while knowing that they are together, that they're so good and secure - the way you feel when you are allowed to be fully yourself, even in your most annoying. Or when what you thought was the worst part of you is still met with love and support.
"Myself, probably."