#awhhhhhh

Mack is not nervous. Not exactly. Not in the way he gets before games, not in the way that curls low and tight in his belly when he’s about to take a big shot or line up for a face-off in overtime. This is different. It's dumber.

He’s pacing in the hallway just outside the locker rooms, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and pretending like he isn’t checking his phone every thirty seconds. Will’s late. Or maybe he’s on time and Mack’s just early and spiraling. That’s more likely.

The hallway smells like pine-scented cleaning supplies and a hint of gear, but it's quiet for now, just the distant sound of skates on concrete and muffled voices echoing down the hall. Mack’s jacket is folded over his arm, dark teal and custom-stitched, something shiny and ridiculous that Cat had delivered to them both last week with a wink and a "Well, you're technically each other's WAGs, right?"

Mack had laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench, but when he put the jacket on—SMITH stitched across the back in bold white lettering—it had felt oddly... nice.

So now he waits.

Footsteps echo and then Will rounds the corner, grinning wide like he knows he kept Mack waiting on purpose. And he's wearing it.

The jacket. With CELEBRINI emblazoned across his back in all caps. Teal satin, the Sharks logo on one sleeve, the playoff patch stitched just beneath the collar.

Mack’s heart punches his ribs.

Will throws his arms wide like, "Ta-da!"

"You actually wore it," Mack says, stunned. "You said you weren’t gonna."

Will shrugs, lips curling into a smirk. "I lied."

Mack steps closer, shaking his head. "You love the drama."

"So do you," Will says, fingers brushing the edge of Mack’s own jacket. "Put it on, c'mon."

Mack does, sliding into the fabric, warm and soft, and his whole chest feels too big for his body when Will grins at him like that.

"God, we’re disgusting," Mack says fondly.

"They’re gonna lose it."

Will’s not wrong.

When they walk down the hallway together, side by side, jackets loud and proud, it takes approximately ten seconds before someone notices. Delly whistles from across the way, laughing so hard he almost drops his protein shake.

"Y’all really came out like that? Like this?"

"Full send," Will says without missing a beat, pulling his sunglasses down like he’s walking a runway.

Eky fakes a faint. "Oh my god, they’re in love."

Toff sees them and immediately pulls out his phone. "Cat’s gonna scream. She was praying you’d wear them."

Mack grins and tugs Will a little closer by the sleeve. "Well, we hate to disappoint."

They pose for a photo—arms around each other, logos sharp, names gleaming—and Mack knows it’s gonna hit Twitter within minutes. But weirdly, he doesn’t care.

Will bumps his hip as they head for the tunnel. "Guess the secret’s out, huh?"

Mack looks over at him, heart full, stupid with it. "You were never a secret."

Will flushes a little, but he squeezes Mack’s hand before they separate for warmups, and Mack walks onto the ice already thinking about the post-game—because if they win tonight, if they take this series, he’s gonna kiss Will in that stupid jacket in front of everyone.

And not give a single damn who sees.