mack going to practice or like a development camp where he needs to bring a lunch and the team teases him cause reader always packs him the best homemade healthy snacks
macklin shows up to practice with a navy lunch kit dangling from one hand, looking like a camp counsellor who missed the memo that professional athletes just hit the smoothie bar. the locker room door barely swings shut before someone whistles.
“ooh, homemade again?” william grins, jutting his chin toward the lunch kit. “girlfriend pack another five-course meal?” mack’s cheeks blotch immediately, rosiness blooming right down to his throat, but he can’t stop smiling as he slides onto the bench and unzips the bag.
“leave him alone,” tyler calls from across the room, lacing his skates. “he’s the only one eating real food.” he nods toward the spread macklin starts laying out on his lap: two containers of veggie pasta salad with grilled chicken, a perfect little stack of quinoa crackers, carrot sticks wrapped in parchment, and a mason jar of lemon-turmeric juice with a handwritten note taped to it that reads drink me first <3.
“bro,” colin groans, “she even gave you instructions?”
mack shrugs, unabashedly proud. “she says it helps with inflammation.” he unscrews the jar obediently and downs half in one go, grimacing at the bitter tang while the team hoots. “look at him, hydrated and disciplined,” william cackles. “meanwhile i’m over here with a gas station sandwich.”
after drills, while everyone else slumps in the stands inhaling protein bars, mack plops down with his cooler and pops the lid off the thermos the pasta is in. steam rises, carrying fragrant basil, garlic, roasted peppers—the works.
“dude, that smells like a restaurant,” tyler says, leaning over for a closer sniff. “she make that this morning?”
mack nods, twirling noodles on his fork, eyes dreamy. “woke up early to finish the dressing. said she didn’t want me crashing halfway through scrimmage.”
colin snorts. “she got you on a meal plan like you’re five.”
“nah,” mack protests, cheeks hot but grin unwavering, “i just get hungry. besides, she likes cooking, and i… like eating.” as if to prove it, he demolishes half the container in a minute flat, moaning softly at the flavour. the mocking dies down because, frankly, everyone’s jealous.
coach wanders by and raises an eyebrow at the spread. “gonna share with the class?” he asks dryly. mack clutches the bag closer. “she packed it for me,” he says with adorable stubbornness, then adds, “but she made extra granola bars if anyone wants.” the offer sparks immediate interest, and soon the guys are passing around perfectly wrapped oat bars studded with dark chocolate and dried cherries. even coach takes one.
“tell her these are better than our nutritionist’s,” he mutters, biting in. mack beams, phone already in hand to snap a photo of the empty wrappers. a text follows: they love you. thank you for making sure i don’t die.
by the time scrimmage ends, mack’s back in the locker room polishing off the last of the roasted chickpeas, licking seasoning from his fingers while the rest of the squad glares good-naturedly over their bland arena food.
“you know we’re gonna start charging you snack tax,” william warns. “at least let us put in orders.”
mack just laughs, stuffing the lunch kit back into his bag, pride radiating off him. “i’ll ask her,” he promises, utterly content knowing he’s heading home to the woman who keeps him fuelled and spoiled, and yes, he’ll gush about the teasing because he secretly loves it.
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