Almost Something - Will Smith/Macklin Celebrini
Also Aiden Celebrini x reader????? I don’t make the rules, I write them
Pt.1 (interact with me and there will be more)(lowkey have the thing planned out)
w.c: 3,128 (please don’t steal my work)(credit to gif maker)
Will sees you first, he swears it.
Normally, he wouldn’t notice other people during the off-season. He’s usually unfocused, relaxed, and wants to spend time with friends doing whatever he wants. His normal life is rigid, scheduled down to nearly every second of every day, so this is his time to be just himself, away from the chaos.
He’s somewhat annoyed at the situation. Family duties are piling up, the weather is weird and unpredictable, and too many people, especially Macklin, are texting him.
He swallows it down, though. He’s a good guy, and not just out of obligation or for the public eye, but because he actually is. He loves showing up, being there for friends and family, and being an anchor for everything else.
But then you’re right there.
You don’t look completely lost, but you do look around, your eyes clearly searching for someone. You don’t find them, obviously, and he can see you almost internally sigh, and a shift, just a slight pull, tugs at his chest cavity.
You’re dressed casually for someone entering a gym, so that tells him you’re here to meet someone. He watches you before he even realizes that he’s doing it. It's not creepy, or at least he hopes it’s not, but he senses some familiarity in you, like an old friend he used to have when he was younger.
You’re beautiful, and he doesn’t throw that term around casually. So, It’s not the coincidence he pretends it to be when he finds himself a few feet away from you five minutes later.
You’ve floated to the edge of the gym, to where the little couches, vending machines, and water fountain are. His bottle is nearly full, but he walks to fill it anyway.
You’re looking at your phone now, clearly trying to look busy, and he can tell you’re anxious by the way your knee is twitching up and down. He nearly wishes he could lay a calming palm on you, and you’d relax into his touch.
He fills his bottle, and his throat tightens in a way that’s almost too shy for him. He could say something, should say something, but instead he goes to screw on the cap, and fate decides for him. His fingers fumble, and the cap slips, falling to the floor and rolling away from him, landing directly in front of your sneakers.
It lands with a little pop at your feet, and your gaze latches on it, before flickering up to meet his horrified gaze.
It's a normal thing, an accident, and not at all an embarrassing thing, but he feels like he just walked into the gym naked when you offer him a small smile and pick up the cap at your feet.
“Sorry,” he says, voice smooth but a little too raspy.
You hand him the cap, and for a brief millisecond, your skin touches his, and a shock of thousands of sparks crawls up his arm and short-circuits his brain. You don’t seem to notice his near panic, and instead offer another smile.
“No worries, little guy just got away from you.”
He huffs out a laugh and takes a small step closer, securing the lid as tightly as he can around his bottle.
“I’m Will,” he offers, extending his hand.
It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his hand firmly in yours and shake.
He commits it to memory and locks it in with a small key.
He doesn’t want the moment to end here, with basic introductions that you may move on from and forget ever happened, so he thinks a million things in the span of a few seconds, filtering through ways to prolong the conversation. He isn’t ready to let you go yet. He just has your name, he wants your number, maybe even needs it. But, he can’t think of any way he can ask without it being obvious, but before he can even attempt, your eyes flash behind him, and a nearly blinding grin etches on your face.
You shout it over his shoulder, not too loud, but loud enough for the person you’re speaking to. He expects Macklin, because of course he does, but what he doesn’t expect is Aiden, his older brother, when he looks at the source of your attention.
Will stills, and the little bubble doesn’t pop, but it expands to another party, and he suddenly feels like he’s being pushed out.
“Hey, Smithy.” Aiden rounds on his shoulder, draping his arm across it.
Aiden is oblivious to every working thought in Will’s mind and gives him a wide grin. “You two know each other?”
He wiggles his finger between the pair, and Will forces himself to shake his head no. You answer first.
“Met just now, I was helping him with a rogue cap.”
Will glances back at you, just for a second, and catches the wink you throw at him. He feels flushed immediately, and he prays you can’t see it.
“Oh, nice, nice.” Aiden nods along, then looks around expectantly before shrugging his shoulders. “Well, if you wanna head out, I’m ready.”
You hum, and Aiden slings his workout bag over his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you, Will.”
You mean it, he can tell.
“We’ll see you later?” Aiden quirks a brow.
Will nods, because apparently he will. He tries to smile, but it feels too tight, like he’s holding something in his mouth. He watches as you and Aiden leave. You immediately break into conversation as you fall in step, but he notices that Aiden doesn’t reach for your hand, and your actions don’t seem particularly romantic.
He wants to file that away, too, but he is also a rational man.
It’s not like it was going to go anywhere.
So he should let it go, or at least, he should try.
It’s a lot harder than he expects, because he does see you mere hours later.
He and Mack just finished in the pool, and he’s got a towel slung around his neck and swim shorts stuck to his thighs as he shakes his wet hair out. He expects to step into the house, finish drying off in silence, and then shower before more people get here. Instead, he walks into the kitchen, and there you are.
You’re sitting at the counter table, with a raspberry High Noon cracked that’s bleeding a few drops onto the granite countertop. You have sunglasses pushed up into your hair, and you’ve changed from casual clothes to a green swimsuit that peeks just outside of the black cover-up you’re wearing. Aiden is in front of you, eyeing up the drinks in the fridge.
Will stops for half a second when he enters, but he forces himself to keep walking until you spot him. Immediate recognition crosses your features, and then your face lights up.
That's all it takes, and he feels his ears getting red again, and his pulse spikes like it does in the third period of a tied game. He tries to tell himself to move. To maybe smile and leave. Go shower, maybe grab a drink, maybe walk out of the house and never come back, but he just stays still.
He’s saved, in a way, by Macklin, who follows behind him and who immediately crosses the room to where you are. He says something Will can’t hear because everything has gone a little muted, but he watches as you lean into Macklin, almost as if it’s second nature. It’s cool, casual, and you’re comfortable around the two brothers in a way that makes bitterness coat the back of his throat.
He does leave then, muttering a quick I’ll be back, and heads to his bedroom for a moment of peace. There, he faces himself in the mirror after a quick shower, and slaps his face just a bit, trying to smack back the semblance of who he is. He doesn’t get this way, not usually, but something about the girl in the other room has messed with his game.
It’s like he’s forgotten how to move, to properly function. So he keeps his feet planted and finishes getting ready to go back out. He has to pretend he’s fine.
Until you end up alone together an hour later.
It wasn’t intentional, but it seems that fate itself is tugging at invisible strings, and you end up seated alone by the fireplace. Will isn’t sure how he got this lucky, but the Celebrini brothers have stepped away for a moment, leaving you both to breathe in the smoke of the fire and stare up at the stars that you can actually see here, unlike in California.
It’s easy, you talk about nothing. Harmless banter about him growing up in Boston, where you go to school, but as the conversation ebbs and flows, it feels anything but casual.
You don’t ask him about hockey, you don’t even bring it up. He assumes you know that he plays, but instead, you talk about whether he likes to read, if the coffee truly is better in Boston, or if he’s ever been bitten by anything.
He actually has, by a horse when he was little, and the story has you nearly falling off the comfy chair you’re sitting cross-legged in.
“Are you good at anything else besides hockey?”
Good. You do know he plays.
He contemplates a second before answering. “I’m good at a lot of sports, I think.”
“Guess that’s kinda boring.”
You shake your head. “Not boring, but kinda predictable.”
Will squints his eyes a bit at you, trying to see where this is leading.
You lean your head back against the chair, lazily looking at him like you know him better than he does.
“You seem serious, always doing things that benefit your end goal.”
Will feels himself deflate a bit.
“Not saying it’s a bad thing, it’s admirable. But it seems like you carry a lot of weight for someone so talented.”
He doesn’t get the chance to respond because you change the subject once you’ve read him like a book, instead bringing up how much you love the summer season, and he starts to forget where he is.
He forgets about the training, about the development camp, about the cameras showing up tomorrow, and everything else that pulls his posture taut.
Somewhere in the middle of a story of your freshman year of college, he realizes something. You’re funny, crazy smart, curious, kind-hearted, and way too passionate about every aspect of your life. You light up when you talk, actually listen when he does. You hold his stare with such intensity as he speaks that he almost needs to look away.
He can feel his heart pulling, just falling a bit, inch by inch.
It’s dramatic, but he knows he’s utterly fucked when Aiden and Macklin return.
Immediately, the small and intimate space you’ve both created is taken over by chaos. Macklin all but barrels himself into the same chair you’re sitting in, and Aiden places himself directly in the seat next to you, dragging it a couple of inches closer for good measure.
It’s in this moment that Will realizes he isn’t actually sure who you are to them. He hasn’t asked and they haven’t offered. You’re clearly comfortable, and the way you melt into Macklin’s touch has his jaw tightening just a bit. You’re clearly important, but Macklin is his best friend; he knows he would know if there was a girlfriend in the picture.
He then observes the latter.
You and Aiden are also close. You always lean in when he talks to you, sharing a little bubble of laughter and familiarity. Aiden knows what drink to get you every time he gets up. He gets you a blanket when the nights get too cold and tucks it under your feet when you lift them for him. You show him things on your phone, and snort at an inside joke that clearly he and Macklin are not in on.
Then he goes back to Mac. He’s a great guy, one of the best. They’ve known each other long enough now to know almost everything about each other. Macklin always means well, even though he can be a bit loud and immature, but that’s just him. But here, with you, he also treats you like a star. You’re still sharing the same seat, pressed tightly up against one another. He laughs with you, shows you off like a prize, and you seem to be soaking it in.
But Will also sees something else. Maybe he’s imagining it, he could be, but sometimes you scan over to where he sits, even when the two brothers are pining for your attention. He sees the way you seem to like the chaos, until it gets too much. He sees how your eyes drift past theirs, past all the noise, and land on his. Sometimes you offer a smirk, a little crinkle of your nose, but it’s just enough to make him wonder.
And that honestly, really, really sucks.
The next morning, you’re up earlier than everyone else, and Will finds you sprawled out on the couch, tapping against it with your foot, half watching a reality TV show you aren’t paying that much attention to.
“Morning.” Your voice is bright for it being pretty early.
He says it back and has to force himself to walk normally to the kitchen. He thinks left foot, right foot, please God don’t let me trip. He makes it, barely, and opens the fridge, seeing an obvious lack of food but an abundance of drinks.
His question comes out before he even thinks, and you perk up a bit.
Too late to back out now.
“Wanna go get food? There’s a spot super close.”
He half expects you to decline the invitation, but you don’t. You nearly sigh out in relief, explain that it’s nearly criminal that Aiden just bought drinks and nothing else, and follow him out to his car parked in the driveway.
You’re pulling on the handle when another question spills out before he can stop it.
“Should we get Aiden and Mac?”
Your brows furrow for a second, like you forgot about them, but you shake your head. “They’ll sleep for a while. They won’t mind, and we could bring something back for them.”
He nods, not really trusting himself to speak as he climbs into his car. You follow suit, and he suddenly realizes how small his car is. It’s clean, thank God, and it smells nice since his sister got him a fancy air freshener, but it still feels tight.
You seem comfortable, settling in and smiling warmly as he starts the engine. It makes his chest ache in a way, because you seem content, like you’re supposed to be sitting in his passenger seat, like this is any other day for you.
This is also the first time you’ re truly alone. Will thinks he should play music, turn it up, but instead, you talk.
You do ask him about hockey this time. You ask if he’s always played, ask about strategy, if other players chirp him, and somehow, in between the short drive, you manage to climb over the walls he’s built. He’s comfortable with you, too comfortable. He feels seen, and it hits too close.
Something shifts again in his stupid chest, and he isn’t sure exactly what.
The café is cute. It has coffee and breakfast, and it’s not too packed for the morning. You fall in step and make it to the line, which has six people in front of you.
He starts to say before you interrupt him.
He pauses, raising a brow.
You tilt your head at him, staring into his soul like you know more than you should.
“I feel like you try to like black coffee,” you start, “simple, easy, quick caffeine, but secretly, you like a latte, with I’m thinking vanilla or caramel.”
He looks back at you, and your expression is so open, eager, and easy, and he can’t help but tell the truth.
“You’re right, but I usually pick caramel over vanilla.”
Your eyes light up, and you reach out to squeeze his arm in excitement. You don’t mean to do it, but it’s natural for you, and it sends jolts of electricity for him. It’s quick and you pull back, but you’re still beaming like you won a Nobel instead of just guessing a coffee order.
He also isn’t sure if he loves or hates that you’re right.
Will lets you go first in line, and you order a coffee and a breakfast sandwich for yourself. You’re about to grab your card when he intercepts, stepping up to the counter and ordering a caramel latte and the same sandwich as he practically throws his card at the man behind the tablet.
He nods, of course, he’s sure. Being here with you feels as easy as breathing.
When the order comes, he grabs it before you can, and he tells you to pick a seat. You beeline to an open two-seat table by the window, and as soon as you’re seated, you rub your hands together in anticipation for the food. He watches you take the first sip of your coffee, and you hum softly like it was the energy source you needed.
In between bites and sips, the more Will notices you both click. It’s not as simple as you make him laugh, or the way your thoughts are exactly the same way that his brain works, it’s also in the little things. You are quietly compatible. You both like the same seasons, hate staying up super late if you don’t have to, you have the same movie tastes, and you like the same sports with just enough difference that you could argue about it. Will doesn’t even notice when the food is gone, coffee drunk, and you’ve been here for longer than you should have.
A text from Macklin spoils his fun.
(Team Mack or a Team Will?)
