the slip | macklin celebrini
Pairing: macklin celebrini x bestfriend!reader
Prompt: a slip in the shower causes you to call your best friend for help, your best friend who you haven’t admitted you’re in love with
requested!
Getting in a heated argument over cereal wasn’t on Mack’s list of things to do for the day. But he learned early on that was life with Will Smith.
“Dude, it tastes the way the box fucking smells. Like cardboard.” Will says, shaking the box of chocolate cereal like he’s trying to get his point across.
“Shut up Smit.” Mack says, content on eating whatever he wants to eat. “Y/N would agree with me, this is one of the best cereals.”
Will was quiet for a second, staring at his best friend with eyebrows raised. “Gee Mack, I wonder why.” Will says sarcastically, tapping his chin like he’s thinking very hard. “Oh I know! Maybe it’s because you two are in love with each other.” Will exclaims, smiling at the way Mack turns red.
“She’s my one of my best friends, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” Mack says, looking down.
“No man.” Will says, teasing aside. “I’m your best friend. She’s the person you’re in love with.”
Call you crazy, but your morning showers with your phone propped up on the shower shelf with New Girl playing is one of your favorite things. The cozy lighting of your bathroom, the way your coffee maker brews in the kitchen, and the way it smells of eucalyptus as soon as you pump out your body wash.
Except this morning, things don’t go as normally planned. They did of course, New Girl is playing as you half watch half scrub your hair. But it’s the clumsiness of you that makes the whole thing horrible.
It’s the glob of shampoo you didn’t realize you dropped, and it’s the foot you just stepped down on, causing you to slip, and slipping in the shower has never proven to be a good thing.
You try to catch yourself, grabbing out for anything, but with everything being slippery tile, it doesn’t work. You go down hard, your ankle twisting painfully, your shoulder hitting the tub, your phone making a mockery out of you as it lands at the bottom of the tub. Thankfully in your shock you at least immediately grab it out of the spray of water still barreling out of the shower head.
The sound of Nick Miller’s voice and the water now hitting your body at the bottom of the tub are the only sounds in the bathroom.
“Fuck!” You exclaim, trying to move but instantly noting how bad of an idea that is. Your ankle screams in pain, and your shoulder throbs a bit too. “Oh my god.” You state, realizing the predicament you’re in.
You’re stuck, your ankle already bigger than normal, your shoulder telling you there’s no way you’re using upper body strength to get yourself out. And the cherry on top? You’re in the shower, naked.
There are two blatantly obvious choices. And you choose option number two, because calling 911 just isn’t in the cards for you today.
Your thumb hovers over your best friend’s number. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you call.
—
Mack and Will are still arguing over cereal when your name and picture flash across Macklin’s phone. The familiar photo of you and Mack in the Toffoli’s backyard capturing his attention.
Mack smiles as he goes to answer, knowing you’ll back him on the cereal debate. But Mack stills as he answers the phone because your voice, normally loud and full of laughter is quiet, it sounds wrong.
“Mack?” You whisper, but it sounds like you’re underwater.
“Y/N?” He asks, his tone instantly making Will drop the argument and freeze. “What’s wrong?”
“I-“ you start to say, and you suck in a breath before continuing. “This is so embarrassing but I don’t know what else to do.” You say into the phone, trying to adjust but the pain makes you suck in a breath.
“Are you hurt?” Mack asks, and he’s already grabbing for his shoes.
“Yea.” You say, and the simple word causes Mack’s brain to become blank.
“Okay, okay. What happened? Where are you? I’ll come and get you.” He stutters out, cursing at his shoes for not slipping immediately on and almost tempted to go without them.
“I slipped in the shower.” You say, the embarrassment evident in your tone. “I can’t move my ankle, and maybe my shoulder? I don’t know I’m kind of just… stuck here.” You say.
“Are you bleeding?” Mack asks, and his eyes are frozen on Will who’s grabbing his phone and wallet.
“I don’t think so, but I’m cold and I can’t reach to turn the water off.” You say, and for the first time your voice slips and the words come out as a sob.
“I’m coming right now okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes sweetheart, I promise.”
But Mack’s words go unanswered, and as he pulls the phone away from his ear he sees the call dropped. He tries again, straight to voicemail.
“Fuck!” Mack exclaims, befitting shoving his phone in his back pocket and eyes are frantically scanning the countertops for his keys. “Where the fuck are my fucking keys?” Mack asks, and Will grabs them from the entryway table and throws them to his best friend.
“Let’s go!” Will says, and Mack books it to the passenger seat, Will knowing it’s not the best idea for Mack to be driving right now.
And as they high tail it to your place, your skin covers itself in goosebumps, and you shiver, but you wait, knowing Macklin is trying like hell to get to you as fast as possible.
—
“Y/N?” You hear your name being called from the front. The familiar voice of your best friend, before a knock comes on the bathroom door.
“Mack!”
“I’m coming in, okay?” He asks, and you say okay, yelling over the sound of the water still spraying.
You hear the bathroom door open, and you can hear movement in the living room, who you can only assume is Will. The curtain is closed, but you can see the giant outline of Mack as he enters the bathroom.
“I’m stuck.” You say, biting your lip because of the pain.
“I’m going to turn the water off.” He says, and you nod even though he can’t see you. But you watch as his hand comes through the edge of the shower curtain, blindly fumbling around until he finds the knob and turns it off.
The silence is thick, and without meaning to you let out a little sob. You aren’t an idiot, you know Mack is going to have to pick you up from the bottom of the tub. And while you’ve been in love with him forever, this wasn’t exactly what you envisioned.
“Okay, where exactly are you hurt?” His voice asks, softly and without its normal expression.
“My ankle is the worst.” You say, not even daring to look. “But my shoulder too, I don’t know what’s wrong with it but it hurts to move.”
The sound of your voice cracking breaks Macklin’s heart.
“Alright, I’m going to help you out.” Mack states, his eyes scanning around for a towel.
“Mack.” You state, and he pauses. “I’m not wearing anything.”
In any other situation Mack’s racing heart wouldn’t be a bad thing. But you’re hurt, you’re scared, and Mack would rather step into traffic than make you uncomfortable.
“Do you trust me?” He asks softly, and your voice answers with a yes. His heart cracks even more as he finds a fluffy green towel in the closet. “Here’s my plan.” He says, standing outside of the curtain. “I’m going to hand this to you, cover yourself as best as you can, I’m going to open the curtain, figure out the best way to pick you up, and then I’m going to close my eyes and set you on the counter until you can wrap the towel around yourself.” He says, surprised he was able to get through all of that without stuttering.
It takes a second for you to respond, but then you whisper back the smallest, “your eyes will be closed when you pick me up?”
“Until you wrap yourself up, I promise.” He says, and you sniffle a bit from the other side.
“Okay.” You say, and Mack nods, before going to put the towel past the curtain, turning his head towards the door just in case. But he feels the towel being pulled from his fingers, and he waits until you say you’re ready.
“I’m covered.” You say, and for the first time since he picked up the phone you let out the tiniest laugh. He feels just a little weight come off of his shoulders at the sound.
“Ready for me to open the curtain?” He asks, wanting to hear your confirmation before anything.
“Yeah.” You state, and he does.
You look pitiful, not that Macklin would ever say it. But he keeps his eyes on yours, only moving them to scan your shoulder and your ankle. The towel is laid over the top of your body, but he knows when he goes to wrap his arms around you he’ll be met with bare skin on your back.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He says, and your chest gives a jump with the sob you’re holding in.
But Mack doesn’t want to prolong this any longer than he has to, so he bends down, knees on the floor as he looks into your bloodshot eyes.
“Mackie.” You say, wanting nothing more than to launch into him but you can’t.
“I know, I know.” He says, scanning you trying to figure out the best way to lift you without knocking into your shoulder and keeping your foot steady. “I’m going to get you out now, okay? We’ve got to get you out” He says, and you nod, biting your lip.
And before Mack can question himself, he gets his arms into a good position before keeping his word of closing his eyes. One arm of yours, which he can only assume is your good arm, goes around his neck, and he reaches under you. His hands are met by your freezing cold skin, and he has to bite his tongue to not make a sound. One arm slips under your knees, the other wrapping around your back as you’re pulled into his body.
Your head rests against his shoulder as he carries you. Making small steps so he doesn’t trip and make this worse. And you try to force yourself to focus on how good it feels to be in his arms versus the pain of your ankle and shoulder.
Macklin forces his eyes to stay shut, he wants to make sure you’re okay, wants to see your wounds and fix them. But your comfort comes first, so he follows your voice as you lead him to the counter top.
“Okay, I’m situated.” You say after you adjust the towel to go completely around your body. And still, when Mack opens his eyes, he’s looking towards the top of the mirror. “I’m covered.” You whisper, and the sound of your voice makes him look back to you. His eyes focusing in on you. You’re covered, yes, but water still drips from your soaking wet hair down your exposed shoulders. And as he goes to look at your ankle, water also drips down your legs and falls to the tile floor below.
“We’ve got to take you in.” He says to you, his voice so soft, so sweet that new tears appear in your eyes. You just nod your head, a shiver racking through you. “I’m going to go grab you some clothes okay?” He says, and you nod.
“Mack? Can you grab me another towel?” You ask as he’s reaching for the door.
“Yeah, of course.” He says, handing you a second fuzzy green towel.
“Do you think you can-“ you start to ask, but Mack doesn’t need you to finish. He opens the towel up, and like he’s seen you do a million times when you get out of a pool, or the lakes and oceans in the summers, he wraps the towel around your hair, getting it off your shoulders. He twists it, and you laugh lightly as he stands back to eye his work.
“You look beautiful.” He says, his eyes so loving as he looks at you. But he leaves before you can respond, the anxiety of what he just said coursing through his veins.
Mack moves swiftly through your room, finding all the clothes he needs for you to go to the ER. He blindly grabs at for a bra and underwear, like even this he wants to be respectful of. Then he moves to grab you pants, before opting for shorts since they’d be easier to slip around your ankle. Then last, a sweatshirt. But he pauses, before pulling his off of his body, fixing his black t shirt that rides up a bit.
You have a thing for taking Mack’s sweatshirts. Especially ones off his back. And he lets you, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with. You tell him it’s because they are warm, which is partly true. The other part is that they smell like him. As he makes it back to the bathroom, he sets your things down on the counter top, before realizing this too may be a bigger challenge than he thought.
“Maybe I’ll just go naked?” You ask him, shrugging your good shoulder.
In any other situation this would have Mack laughing, have him looking at you like he always does. Have him so close to cutting the shit and admitting his feelings. And while he does crack a smile, a snort also coming out, Mack shakes his head.
“I can help,” he states, before quickly finishing it with, “if you want.”
You eye him for a second, before nodding. And like before, Macklin’s heart races as his eyes are back to being slammed shut, and he helps you put bottoms on. Your bra, however, is his undoing.
“You’re going to have to clip it.” You say, and Mack’s hands freeze, and he must have been making a face because you let out a pained laugh. “You’ve seen me in bikinis, Mack.” You say, and he nods.
“Yeah, yeah, bikinis.” He says, shaking his head like that is going to help the thoughts of you in a bikini leave his head. The thoughts of your skin golden after spending hours in the sun, the thoughts of your laugh at something stupid he or Will decided to do. And especially the thoughts of that stupid teal bikini you bought insisting on wearing it for ‘Sharks support’.
“Macklin?” The sound of his name pulls him back to the present, and he turns red as he realizes he just completely zoned out while you’re waiting for him to clip your bra.
What the fuck is his life? He thinks as he clears his throat and reaches behind your back. His fingers stumble over the hooks, and apologies spill from his mouth. But he gets it finally, and next holds up his sweatshirt to help over your head.
Your eyes catch on it, noting the fact he came in wearing it, and now he’s not. But that’s the thing about you and Mack. You know each other, maybe too well, but you do. Mack knows how much the small things he does mean to you. Giving you sweatshirts, bringing you coffee, how when he’s with you he’s so invested in you that half the time he forgets anything and anyone else exist.
To Macklin, it’s just you. He wouldn’t notice if the world was ending, so long as you’re breathing the same air as him.
It takes a second to get the sweatshirt on, and you cry out as he bumps your shoulder funny.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He says, and like it it’s nothing, he plants a kiss to your temple.
You turn red, you can feel the heat all throughout your body. But you just rest your head against his chest. Your bad shoulder and arm are sitting loosely under the sweatshirt, with no point in putting your arm in the sleeve to have them take it back out at the hospital.
“Thank you.” You say, your head still tucked against his chest.
“You don’t have to thank me.” He says with a small shrug, you can feel it against your head.
“Yes.” You say, closing your eyes. “Yes I do. You came here and you saw me like this and-“
“I’ll come,” he says, voice softer now. “Every single time. Whether you need me to kill a spider, sit with you in silence, bring you coffee, or pick you up off the bathroom floor. I’ll come as soon as you call.”
“Mack.” You whisper, tears leaking down your cheeks.
His hand is on the side of your face, thumb carefully wiping the falling tears away. His face is flushed, and his hair messy from how fast he runs his hands through it.
“After.” He says, and you lean the side of your head into his palm. “We’ll talk about all of this after, I promise. But please, please I need to get you to the hospital.” He says, and you nod, preparing yourself for the pain of the jostle into his arms. “I’ll go slow.” He says, reaching around you to be able to pick you up.
“I trust you.” You whisper, and you swear you hear a sharp inhale at your words.
But he picks you up, careful to try not to move you so much. You scrunch your face, your eyes shutting tightly in pain.
“God, I’m sorry.” He says, carrying you out to the living room where you can tell Will has been anxiously waiting.
He looks at you, giving you a sad little smile.
“Hey there, disaster.” He says, his normal nickname for you never fit as perfectly as it does now.
“Sorry for ruining your day.” You say, but Will cuts you off before Mack can.
“Absolutely not.” He says, waving his hands in front of him. “Go get fixed up, I’ll take care of everything here.” He says, and Macklin nods his appreciation at his best friend.
“You don’t have to-“
“Too late. I’ll see you guys when you get back.” Will says, already starting to build what looks like a makeshift bed on your couch.
You smile, the overwhelming feeling of love spreading through you as Macklin carries you to the car.
—
The hospital wasn’t as horrible as you thought. You get discharged with a cast on your foot, and a bruised shoulder you’re told not to over extend.
But Macklin was there the whole time. He stayed plastered by the bed, the nurses even told you he wouldn’t stop pacing while you got your x-rays. And as he nodded, listening and asking questions about your recovery, you couldn’t even listen to the doctor. All you could focus on was him.
So when you finally returned home, Will having stocked your entire place with necessities, you look to Mack, and blurt the words you’ve felt since you laid eyes on him for the first time.
“I love you.” You say, and you watch as Mack freezes. His hand stills on the pillow beneath your cast, his shoulders lock, his eyes flick up to yours completely stunned.
But it’s the the silence that follows that is horrible. You let one second pass, then two before you’re back pedaling like mad.
“Oh my god,” you say, panic flooding your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just say that. I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not while I’m in a cast and high on pain meds and you’re just trying to be nice because I fell in the shower like a fucking idiot-“ But your rambling ends as Mack stands.
For one second, you think he’s going to step back. You think he’s going to put space between you or that you’ve ruined everything in the exact way you always feared you would.
“Mack,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”
But he doesn’t say anything, instead he just leans down. One hand bracing himself on the back of the couch beside your head. The other coming to your face, so slowly and carefully.
And before you could process it, Macklin is kissing you. His lips warm, touch still light but lips firm and steady. And you make the smallest sound and lift your good hand to his hoodie, your fingers curling into the fabric.
That’s all he needs as he kisses you deeper. It’s still gentle, but there’s something underneath it. Relief, want, months and months of almosts and words neither of you were brave enough to say. And as he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, and his breathing is uneven.
And with his voice barely above a whisper, his cheeks pink and his green eyes glassy he whispers, “I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in this whole fucking world.” And your best friend leans down to kiss you again.
