mini!willmack
so, this is yet another banger prompt that @sleepy-hyperfixations and i have been yapping about the last few days: mini!Mack and mini!Will. where - that's right, mack and/or will is just a tiny lil guy. i might whip out a couple of these whenever i feel like it. bc the mini's are currently where my writing whimsy is and it's a nice break from writing the other fic.
these snapshots are like, almost certainly just going to be fluffy, lighthearted lil blurbs of them being stupid, ridiculous and in love. bc writing mini!angst would actually be insane imo.
but, enjoy if you like :)
here's another addition of mini!Mack where mack is an absolutely feral monster. but much like will in this fic, i just want to gently hold him in my hands for safe keeping :)
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Will sighed, looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking lot. “You love me.”
“That was before you stuck me in a shoebox, William.” Mack grumbled. “I was fine in your hood.”
Will glanced down in the passenger seat, where Mack’s head was poking out of one of the tiny windows he’d cut into the sides of the shoebox - lined with one of Will’s old BC t-shirts - that Mack’d very grudgingly allowed himself to be placed into, his cheek propped up on his fist as he scowled.
“If we get into an accident with you in my hood, you’re going to get squashed, Mack.”
“Are you planning on getting into an accident?” Mack shot back, dryly.
Will groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s only until we get to Toff’s, then you can come out.”
“He’s not gonna have a fucking clue what to do,” Mack huffed.
“Well, neither do I,” Will admitted. “At least this way I can have someone else to freak out with.”
Will changed lanes, trying to focus on the road, but his brain kept looping back to the sheer insanity of the past few hours. How Mack was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. Said hand drifted automatically towards the passenger seat, instinctively searching out Mack’s thigh, only to hit cardboard, jostling the box.
“Hey!” Mack shouted, “what’re you doing?”
“Sorry, baby,” he said, pulling his hand back to rest on the gear shift. “Habit.”
There was a pause, then a dramatic sigh before Mack stuck his arm out of the box and made grabby hands. “Gimme.”
“What?” Will glanced away from the road, looking at Mack in confusion.
“Your hand, please.”
He lowered his hand back down towards the opening. Mack’s tiny fingers reaching out to wrap around the tip of his index finger - barely enough to get around his entire finger pad. It made something warm bloom in Will’s chest. He could hardly feel it, but Mack’s hand was still warm, still had the ability to calm him right down. Mack was still Mack, even though he was pocket-sized.
“Better?” Mack asked, smug and soft.
“Yeah, baby,” Will said, huffing out a small laugh. He hadn’t realized how shot his nerves had been until he’d been latched onto by his tiny anchor. “Don’t let go.”
–
“Where’s Mack?” Toff asked as soon as he opened his front door. He looked between Will, the shoebox in his hands and back towards Will’s car in the driveway. “And what’s in the box?”
“Mack’s here,” Will said flatly.
“Uh huh,” Toff leaned against the doorframe, skeptical. “And where exactly is here?”
Before Will could answer, Mack growled from inside the box, followed by a loud thunk as the box lid jerked upwards a few inches before sliding shut again.
Toff eyed him warily, before looking at the box. “You run over a squirrel or something?”
“Or something.” Will said, shouldering his way past Toff towards his kitchen, carrying the box like it was delicate porcelain.
“You’re not waiting for Mack?” Toff’s voice called out. “Are you two fighting?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Mack corrected, voice muffled through the lid. “He put me in a box.”
Toff stopped and looked around. “Was that Mack?”
Will ignored him, carefully setting the box down on the counter and sitting heavily on a barstool. “I think you should just open the box, Toff.”
Toff’s eyes narrowed as he leaned against the counter, looking at the box like it was a bomb. “Whatever’s in there won’t bite, right?”
“It’s a fifty-fifty shot at this point.”
“Fuck, Smitty,” Toff shook his head and lifted the lid off the box.
Inside Mack was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the box, buried in the nest of Will’s shirt. He looked up, waving casually. “Hi Toff.”
The lid slipped right out of Toff’s hand and clattered to the floor. His jaw worked for a full five second, no sound coming out before: “what the fuck?”
“That’s what I said when I woke up like this,” Mack said, holding his hands up to Will, who diligently brought his hand down to the box for Mack to latch onto, starting his climb back up Will’s arm to his hood.
“Hang on,” Toff shook his head, watching wide-eyed as Mack slid into Will’s hood, only to pop back up, resting his elbows on Will’s shoulder. “Mack’s small.”
“Yeah, we know,” Will said, feeling Mack start to tug at the hair curling behind his ear.
“I swear, every time you two come over, I lose a year of my life.”
“Not our fault you chose us to be your rookies,” Mack shot back.
“And I regret it more and more every day.” Toff scoffed, pushing off the counter to head towards the fridge. “Red Bull, Smitty?”
“Please.”
“And one for me,” Mack piped up.
Toff’s hand paused on the fridge handle. “What’re you gonna do, drown in it?”
“Fuck you, Toff,” Mack growled. “Let me down, Smit.”
That made Toff laugh, digging in his fridge before coming over to bring Will his Red Bull. “Oh, I’m so afraid.”
“You should be,” Mack hissed, already hauling himself up and out of WIll’s hood.
Will sighed, his hand coming up to grasp at Mack, lowering him down to the counter. “Can’t take him anywhere, even when he’s pint-sized.”
“Could put him back in that damn box,” Toff grumbled, rummaging through a drawer, producing one of those tiny medicine cups. He gestured for Will to hand his can back over before he cracked it and poured out a capful, sliding it over to Mack. “There. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“Thanks Toff!” Mack said sweetly, picking up the tiny cup with both hands and taking a drink.
“So,” Toff said, cracking his own can. “Any thoughts on how to get mini-Mack… big again?”
–
Will should’ve realized his mistake earlier. They’d been at the kitchen table, huddled around Cat’s laptop, trying to find anything that could point them in the right direction towards fixing Mack. But so far, there hadn’t been any luck. Every so often, Mack had tugged at his sleeve asking Will to fill his medicine cup up again and Will hadn’t even thought twice, pouring out more of his Red Bull with a soft, “sure, baby.”
What he’d failed to take into account was how a six-inch tall body would react to that much caffeine. It had come on slowly and then all at once, such a large surge of energy that had left Mack doing laps on the table.
And now…
“Where the fuck is he?” Toff demanded, standing in the living room, turning in slow circles, looking like a man questioning all of the life choices that led him to this very moment.
“I don’t know,” Will hissed, eyes wide and hair frizzing from running his hands through it. “He was just on the couch a couple minutes ago-”
Something rattled by the fireplace.
“Mack, baby,” Will urged, scanning the floor so he didn’t accidentally step on his boyfriend. “Come on, where are you?”
From somewhere near the fireplace came a tiny voice: “can’t catch me!”
“Ok,” Cat said, coming down the stairs. “Stella’s in our room and can’t get out. I can’t believe this is what I came home to.”
“Should’ve stayed at brunch longer,” Toff grumbled. “I would’ve come with you if I knew this was going on.”
Will pointedly ignored him, dropping to his knees to look under the couches with his phone flashlight. “He’s not under here, but Toff, you’re slacking on vacuuming under here, bud.”
“Don’t really think that’s the problem right now.”
“Smitty!” Mack screeched, his tiny-socked feet rapidly pitter-pattering across the hardwood behind him.
Will whipped around, catching a flash of Mack sprinting, full-tilt towards the kitchen. “Toff! Get him!”
“Jesus fuck,” Toff muttered, dutifully chasing after Mack. “I’m never complaining about him going non-verbal or crashing out ever again. That’s heaven compared to this.”
“Do you have him?” Will asked, pushing himself back up.
“No,” Toff cursed, something banging in the kitchen. “I’m asking for a trade. Or retiring. I’m too old for this shit.”
“Love you too, Toff,” Mack screamed.
“I think I have a way to keep him contained,” Cat said, hurrying down the hall towards the laundry room. “See if you can keep him distracted a bit longer.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, Cat.”
There was another crash in the kitchen followed by Mack’s hysterical giggling and Toff swearing loudly.
“Heads up, Smitty!” Toff warned. “Speedy Gonzales is heading back your way!”
Will hardly had enough time to prepare himself before Mack was streaking towards him, eyes wild and panting heavily. But Will had such a size advantage that all he had to do was throw his arm down in front of Mack’s path. He felt the barely-there impact of Mack colliding into his forearm, and had to quickly reach out to cup Mack in his spare hand before Mack had a chance vault over his arm. “Got him!”
“Put me down, Will!” Mack barked, vibrating like a humming bird in his palm.
“Baby,” Will tried, needing his other hand to fully contain Mack. “I don’t care if you need to run around, but can you at least do it where I know you’re safe?”
Mack appeared to think about it, his teeth chattering and foot tapping a mile a minute from all the pent up energy. “Ok.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” Toff said, flopping down onto the couch. “You caught him.”
“And I have just the way to tire him out, safely!” Cat said, coming back into the living room, arms full. “Just give me ten minutes.”
True to her word, it had only taken Cat ten minutes to turn their coffee table into a tiny hockey rink. By taping ripped up cardboard to the table for the boards, and some old wicker hockey Christmas ornaments, Mack had a decently functional practice rink to burn himself out on.
Will slouched on the ground in front of the couch, watching Mack go. Slapping shot after shot into the mini net with his mini stick. The socks on his feet even letting him slide around on the glossy table top.
“How much longer is this going to go on for?” Toff groaned, horizontal on the couch.
“Him being tiny or the Red Bull?” Will asked, not willing to take his eyes off of Mack, lest he go feral and disappear again.
“Both.”
All Will could do was shrug.
Eventually, when it started to get dark out, Mack started to slow down, his shot getting sloppy. When he fell down on one knee, leaning heavily on his stick, Will leaned forward, cupping his hands for Mack to climb into.
Mack blinked up at him, sweaty, tired and grinning deliriously before he crawled into Will’s awaiting hands.
“You good, baby?” Will murmured. “You should probably have some water.”
All Mack could do was nod, resting his head against the meat of Will’s thumb. “And a shower?”
Will laughed under his breath as he pushed himself up, running his other thumb gently up and down Mack's back, careful not to jostle him too badly, his tiny boyfriend almost asleep in his palms. “Yeah, we’ll see what we can do.”
