WillMack ABO fic - Ch. 11
Here's ch. 11 of my WillMack ABO fic, originally posted on AO3
Summary -
Macklin Celebrini has spent years trying to be the kind of omega people can tolerate. It's exhausting.
Meanwhile, Will Smith has never had much trouble being an alpha. He's loud, confident, annoyingly easy to like, and somehow always manages to end up exactly where Mack doesn't want him.
And now they're drafted onto the same team.
As Mack navigates the NHL, and a league that still isn't quite sure what to do with omegas, Will keeps showing up for him.
Mack is pretty sure he can't stand him.
Will is pretty sure that's a lie.
click to read here on AO3
Chapter Guide - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (p1), 6 (p2), 7, 8, 9, 10, you are here!
Or read on Tumblr under the cut!
When Will let himself into Mack's apartment, the first thing he noticed was Mack's nest.
Or at least what was left of it.
A few days ago, the entire corner of the living room had been buried beneath blankets and pillows and enough soft things that Grace would've rolled her eyes and called it excessive before burrowing right in. Now it looked like somebody had gotten halfway through cleaning it before giving up.
One blanket hung off the arm of the couch. Another had been folded and abandoned on the coffee table. A weighted plushie was hanging crookedly off the seat of a dining chair, and one of Ekky's pillows had somehow ended up beside the TV stand.
There were still a few shirts, and the infamous hoodie, and even a sheet on the ground, so the nest wasn't gone, just very dismantled. Like Mack had decided he didn't want it there anymore and then changed his mind halfway through.
Will stood in the doorway a second longer than necessary, staring at the scene in front of him.
The trainer had practically ordered Mack to take it easy for the rest of the week, and after the disaster that had landed Mack in the trainer's room in the first place, Will had figured he'd spend an afternoon or two checking in, maybe watching a movie, and making sure Mack had eaten something more substantial than protein powder.
"Mack?"
The apartment stayed quiet for a moment.
"In the kitchen."
Will followed the sound of his voice.
Mack was leaning against the counter with a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked better than he had in the trainer's room, which wasn't saying much considering how awful he'd looked then.
The dark circles under his eyes had faded a little. The fever flush was gone. Even his scent seemed steadier now, no longer tangled up in the weird mess it had been fighting through before, but he still looked tired.
"What happened to the nest?" Will asked, carefully.
Mack didn't look up from his phone.
"I took it apart."
Will glanced back toward the living room.
The statement wasn't exactly true. If Mack had taken it apart, there wouldn't still be half a nest sitting in the corner.
"We spent, like, an entire day building it."
"And?"
Will frowned.
"I guess it just seems like a waste."
Mack's jaw tightened.
"It's blankets."
"It's your nest."
The response came automatically.
Neither of them said anything for a second after that.
Because they both knew it wasn't just blankets.
The nest had been the first nest Mack had ever built for himself.
The first time he'd listened to his instincts.
The first time he'd let somebody help him.
Will looked back toward the living room.
"If you didn't want it anymore, why didn't you finish putting it away?"
Immediately, Mack looked irritated.
"Why does it matter?"
"I'm just asking."
"Congratulations."
"Mack."
"What?"
The answer came out sharper than he'd intended.
Will leaned back against the fridge.
For once, he didn't immediately keep talking.
That somehow made it worse.
The apartment felt strange without the nest.
Too open.
Too empty.
Mack had spent the entire morning trying not to think about it.
Every time he'd walked through the living room, he'd noticed it.
Every time he'd sat on the couch, he'd noticed it.
The whole apartment felt wrong.
But putting it back felt worse.
Because if he put it back, he'd have to admit he wanted it.
And he wasn't ready to think about why.
"You've been in a shitty mood all week."
Mack stared at the water bottle.
"Thanks."
"I'm serious."
"I noticed."
Will sighed.
"Okay."
Mack could feel him looking at him.
He hated that.
Not because it was annoying.
Because Will paid attention.
That was the problem.
Most people accepted "I'm fine" and moved on.
Will never did.
The trainer had accepted it.
The reporters accepted it.
Half the team accepted it.
Will never accepted it.
And normally that would've been comforting.
Lately it just made Mack feel exposed.
Like somebody kept shining a flashlight directly at things he was trying very hard not to look at.
"What?"
The question came out before he could stop it.
Will blinked.
"What?"
"You keep staring at me."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I was thinking."
"That's worse."
A corner of Will's mouth twitched.
Mack immediately regretted saying it.
Because for half a second it felt normal.
And he didn't want normal.
Normal meant relaxing.
Normal meant letting his guard down.
Normal meant forgetting why he was annoyed in the first place.
The problem was that every time he relaxed around Will, something embarrassing happened.
He ended up sleeping in Will's hoodie.
Or sitting too close to him.
Or feeling calmer the second he walked into a room.
Or missing him.
Which was ridiculous.
Because nobody should miss somebody who was just a friend after a few hours.
Yet somehow he'd spent most of yesterday thinking about texting him before remembering he was supposed to be annoyed.
"Mack."
"What?"
The irritation came back immediately.
Like grabbing onto a life raft.
"What happened?"
The question wasn't about the nest.
Mack knew that.
Will knew that.
Which was exactly why he didn't answer.
All he had was a knot of anger sitting somewhere in the middle of his chest.
Mack shrugged.
Will watched him for a second.
"Do you want help putting the nesting stuff back?"
A defeated sound escaped Mack before he could stop it.
He dragged both hands over his face.
"No."
Will waited.
"No," Mack repeated, muffled behind his palms. "I don't want to mess with it anymore."
Something in Will's expression softened.
"Do you need help fixing it?"
Mack let his hands drop.
"I don't know how."
"Okay."
The answer came easily.
"Let's figure it out."
Mack frowned.
"What feels wrong?"
Everything.
The nest felt wrong because it was emptier.
Because Will wasn't in it.
Because Will hadn't been there constantly for the last week.
Because somehow the blankets and pillows had started losing Will's scent of fresh laundry and started smelling more like the apartment itself.
Because every instinct he had kept insisting something was missing.
And the thing that was missing was standing three feet away from him.
Mack shrugged again.
Will considered that.
"Do you want to go back to the rink and get more laundry?"
Mack blinked.
"What?"
"Or we could stop by Ekky's. I'm sure he has something other than pillows you could steal."
Despite himself, Mack snorted.
Will pointed toward the living room.
"I'm serious. Maybe it just needs more stuff."
"It has plenty of stuff."
"Okay. Then maybe different stuff."
Mack rolled his eyes.
Will kept going anyway.
"We could call Grace. She's an omega too."
Something cracked.
Not completely.
Just enough.
One second Mack was standing there with his arms crossed.
The next he was moving.
Will barely had time to react before Mack stepped forward and pressed himself directly into his chest.
Not hugging him.
Not really.
His arms stayed crossed.
His shoulders stayed tense.
But he buried his face against Will's shirt and stopped moving.
Immediately, the scent hit him.
Fresh laundry.
Clean cotton.
Will.
The knot in his chest loosened so abruptly it almost hurt.
For a second neither of them spoke.
Then:
"Uh..."
Will froze.
"Mack?"
Mack pressed his face harder into his chest.
"I'm so angry."
Will blinked.
"Angry?"
"I hate my dad."
The words came out muffled.
Will went completely still.
Mack could practically feel the panic.
Not visible panic.
Scent panic.
The clean laundry smell shifted immediately.
Damp around the edges.
Mildew.
Uneasy.
Another miserable sound escaped Mack.
"I'm making you uncomfortable."
"What?" Will said immediately.
Mack pulled back just enough to look at him. "I am."
"No."
"Will."
"No, you're not."
Mack squinted at him.
"I swear," Will said. "You're not making me uncomfortable."
"You look uncomfortable."
"I don't."
"You do."
Will huffed. "Okay, maybe I'm a little confused, but that's different."
Mack stared at him for another second before apparently deciding that required investigation.
He leaned forward and buried his face in Will's neck.
Will froze.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Mack inhaled deeply.
Once.
Twice.
Will's entire body went rigid.
Mack pulled back with a frown.
"No."
Will blinked.
"No what?"
"You smell weird."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Will said, "Wow. Thanks."
Mack shrugged.
"You just don't want to talk about my dad."
Will blinked.
"What?"
"Does talking about my dad make you uncomfortable or something?"
For a second, Will looked like he was considering dodging the question.
Then he sighed.
"I mean... kind of."
Mack's expression immediately hardened.
"Wow."
"No, not like that."
"Then what?"
Will rubbed the back of his neck.
"I really don't agree with some of the things your dad has said. Or believes. As far as I know."
The apartment went quiet.
"But," Will continued carefully, "the last time we talked about that, you got really upset."
Mack looked away.
"So I guess I'm just..."
Will exhaled.
"I don't know. I'm trying to be cautious about how to go about it."
Then Mack exhaled hard through his nose.
"Then I'll do the talking."
Will raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
"My dad made me wear scent patches."
The words landed heavier than he'd expected.
"Well. Not made me."
Mack scrubbed a hand over his face.
"I wanted to wear them."
Will frowned.
"Mack—"
"No, listen."
His voice came out sharper than he intended.
"I wanted to wear them because I trusted him. Because he told me it made being around me easier."
The bitterness in his voice surprised even him.
"Because I smell like an omega. And he's one of those 'alphas will be alphas' kind of people."
Will's expression darkened immediately.
Mack laughed once.
It wasn't funny.
"The trainer said I could've had seizures."
His throat felt tight.
"Seizures, Will."
Will went very still.
"What if I'd had one on the ice?"
The question came out quieter.
"What if something happened?"
For once, Mack didn't look away.
"What if I got hurt because of something he knew about and never bothered to tell me?"
The apartment felt painfully silent.
"My dad didn't care about me."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
And once they were out, he couldn't take them back.
"He never taught me anything."
Mack stared at the floor.
"Whenever my brother tried to ask questions about cycles or omega stuff, Dad would shut him down."
His jaw tightened.
"Everything was always about not making people uncomfortable. Not drawing attention to it. Not acting too omega. He made me feel like it was something I should be ashamed of."
Silence.
Then—
"Yeah."
Mack looked up.
Will's expression was flat.
Dangerously flat.
"Yeah," Will repeated. "I hate your dad too."