Thank you for that cute drabble. Mack having a crush on Will before ever meeting him is so tender to me.
Also, I see you ship minten with Will and it made me remember when someone on twitter posted that their ship edit of Fraser and Will got reported on tik tok and everyone in the comments agreed Mack was the one reporting on his burner 😂
my first ask hi guys hi hi hi hey hey hey hey hey yay!
i do feel like mack would be a complete doofus and trying to seep his way into will’s field of view from the very start, which of course would be a challenge due to will’s love for bc and his hatred for bu through generations
as for smitten (293), i’ve not seen that and im Heavily regretful 😢😢 my guy would 100% do that tho and he’d do it PROUDLY. d1 smitten hater right there (or their biggest supporter, we love mintbrini around these parts)
michael misa, physical contact seeker extraordinaire, putting himself inside of Sam's hoodie like he is a fucking cat or something. the first time he does it they are laying on the couch and he puts himself under the fabric, his head on sam's chest as he just stays here, in the dark, surrounded by sam's scent. sam doesn't know what to do, and he just puts down his phone to rub soft circles on misa's back.
'you good, buddy ?' he asks softly and when misa hums, sam feels it reverbate on his ribcage and its so fucking intimate to have him like that, all safe and close. sam understands this will be a recurring thing and that there is not stopping it.
but of course after that he complains that his hoodies are all stretched out and have lost their shape but misa just says 'buy bigger ones then' as if the problem is sam's clothes and not the fact that misa thinks a hoodie is made for two grown ass men.
but sam complies because he not so secretly loves it. he starts buying hoodie just one size too big but still pretends to be annoyed when misa invades his personal space. he likes the oversize look of it so that's no problem, and misa grins to himself when he starts noticing how much more space there is for him to crawl in now.
mack visiting bc for the first time before the season begins to ‘scope out the competition’ but it’s really just to try and find the hot blonde dude he saw outside of sb a week ago
finally finds him being manhandled in a circle of some hunky brunette and a twink. mack awkwardly waiting for him to leave the other two before running up and ‘dropping’ his phone with a flurry of apologies
the blonde guy just picks it up and hands it back, his fingers lingering a little on mack’s own, “here, you good?”
mack just nods with this stupid smile on his face and is suddenly hyper aware of his dumb looking gap tooth and how it makes him look like a major loser
“yeah, thanks. hey can i get your number?”
the other stres at him for a second, a confused look in his eyes. “uhh. sure…?” mack hands his phone back over and sort of sways in place until he’s done, then glancing at the contact name that was added
will smith (bc)
mack smiles again and thanks him, leaving with an extra skip in his step and a wide smile on his face that aiden immediately calls out an hour later
summary: will has depression, fraser makes it better
tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, depression, domestic fluff, implied/referenced sh, religious guilt
wc: 1,391
Will Smith met Fraser Minten exactly two years, nine months, and 28 days ago.
Summer came harsh and hot that year. Being a freshly drafted San Jose Sharks forward only fuelled the steaming flames seeping into Will’s back; the ones that cried out that he wasn’t worth even attending the draft.
It had been like this for as long as he could remember, mainly in the form of disingenuous grins he gave out as generously as possible when congratulated on the many awards gracing the fridge door of his family home. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful; it was quite the opposite.
Will stared at his awards and medals and goal replays for hours on end, trying to rack his brain on how he was possibly deserving of any of this success. He was just another kid from Lexington, Massachussetts, rushing to wake the rest of his family up at 4 o’clock in the morning to reenact their hometown battle. There was nothing setting him apart from the kids back home aside from the constant praise from everyone who even looked in his direction.
He used to take his frustrations out on himself, and he still does, sometimes. His pale skin became littered with as many imperfections as he could fit, silently pleading to be noticed for something shameful, pleading to just be treated like any other guy.
Grace had noticed. She always noticed. She hugged him and whispered how she never knew something was wrong, told him it would be okay and it’d all work out.
“What if I don’t want it to work out, Grace? I want to be happy, but I don’t like living like this. Is that wrong? Is that sinful?” He’d asked softly, his voice breaking as much as his permanently blank tone allowed.
Grace had given him a gentle look, continuing to rewrap his damaged wrists. “You’re perfect the way you are, Will. Even the fucked up parts. You’re human, after all.“
She’d avoided his main question, probably unsure of how to answer it. That was fair. She was Grace, not God. He couldn’t expect everything from her, though she did her best 100% of the time.
Will stared at his wrists for days after the incident and began to find solace in walks through the busier areas of MA, where he could blend in as just another guy on his way to fuck knows where. Boston was good for that. Busy enough to be ignored and busy enough to feel like an extra in a shitty, underbudgeted movie.
Boston also had great bookshops. Will preferred the pre-loved shops; they had personality and a story to tell that was actually interesting. He’d found a nice one the last time he was in the city and planned on finding some mental health-based books that might make him feel less alone. Maybe a new Bible, too; he’d wanted a dark blue one for a while now.
What Boston was not good for, however, was avoiding fellow hockey players. Will had stumbled right into the back of Fraser Minten as soon as he’d walked in, his head nearly colliding with the Vancouverite’s as he let out a small groan, sending his new purchases to the old timber floors. Will rushed to pick up the items consisting of three Penguin Classics and an old piano magazine, taking a second to glance over the covers.
Fraser apologised before Will could, giving him a smile of recognition before taking the books and magazine back, checking them for damage.
“Will, hey! How are you? Great to finally meet you in person.”
Will blinked back at him, unsure of a response. He’d been told he wasn’t allowed to say ‘good’ or ‘fine’ anymore as part of starting therapy, but he assumed Fraser-fucking-Minten wasn’t too keen on hearing him dump everything he’d ever lived through on him in a random bookshop in the middle of the afternoon.
“Uhh, likewise, and I'm alright, thanks, been better. What are you doing in Boston?”
Fraser just gave a polite nod, stepping to the side to allow another customer to enter. His eyes had a certain sparkle to them, the same sparkle Will had seen in ancient paintings of Christ or Mother Mary helping those in need of support. Maybe Fraser could help Will. Maybe he could make it all go away.
“Just visiting, I’ve got a few friends here.” A pause. A full-body glance at Will. Another smile. “I didn’t know you read.”
Will shrugged, scratching the back of his scalp. He didn’t really register it himself; it was just another thing he mindlessly did, like a rusty control panel reciting the same commands for the last 18 years.
“Sometimes.”
-
Two years, nine months, and 28 days later, Fraser was cuddled into Will’s side in their apartment in a town between Lexington and Boston. They’d decided on the place six months and seven days ago and moved in exactly five months ago.
Will couldn’t remember when they started dating. It sort of blended into recovery dates and season games and stupid PR partnerships to make him seem marketable and picture-perfect.
Despite it all, he knew he loved Fraser, no matter what he was feeling. It was hard not to. He gave him a new lease on life and made him feel as normal as he possibly could. When Fraser had called him up after his first NHL hatty, Will genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time in years. It was different when it came from him. Fraser understood what it felt like, even if not to the same extreme. He helped him, and he made it okay.
Will would do anything for Fraser. Anything to see that gorgeous glint in his eyes shimmer just a little brighter when Will brought him breakfast in bed or gave him an extra kiss before heading out for the day. He had run the Boston Marathon with him this year to honour his grandfather, who’d been dreaming of it his entire life but didn’t have the strength for it anymore. Fraser had been overjoyed crossing the finish line next to his boyfriend, and his happiness rubbed off on Will like a contagious virus.
He’d met Fraser’s family in Vancouver and sat with them for Fraser’s first game on home soil, and his mom told him just how happy she was to see her son loved so passionately and genuinely. Will had cried that night with Fraser holding him and telling him just how loved he is and how happy they were to invite him into their family.
Fraser would do anything for Will, too. He went to church with him on their fourth date and sat quietly whilst Will prayed beside him in the pews. He said a quiet prayer himself that Will would be better when the time was correct and that Fraser would have the strength to help him as well as he was physically able to. He’d come over the second Will texted him ‘I’m not okay’ and wouldn’t ask any questions; he’d hold Will for hours until he fell asleep or burst into tears and let it all out on his chest.
When Will hurt himself again or tried to drink himself to death, Fraser peppered gentle kisses over his face and got him into bed, safe and warm, before cleaning up whatever mess had been left. He never left. He never debated it for a second.
If Will came to him doubting his faith, he’d lay him on his lap and pray the rosary over him whilst running a hand through his hair. Once he was done, he’d tell Will that God loves him over and over again until his voice went hoarse.
All that seemed to ring in Fraser’s head was ‘Will, Will, Will. Protect Will. Help Will.’
All that seemed to ring in Will’s head was ‘Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. Love Fraser. Let Fraser help me.’
Lying together in silence while listening to Boston traffic was something straight out of a dream, and neither wished they were anywhere else.
“I love you, Will,” Fraser whispered, pecking his boyfriend’s cheek.
“I love you too, Mints,” Will hummed back, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s head.
Everything felt perfect with Fraser, and that’s all Will needed to feel to know that everything would work out.
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