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"Mack," Will says in a long suffering voice, "tell me you're joking."
Macklin looks up from where he's very earnestly trying to spice up his poster board.
"No?" he replies distractedly, "why would I be joking?"
Will gives him a look, the one that says Macklin is being a Grade A Idiot.
"Mack," he says very slowly, and rather patronizingly in Macklin's opinion, "you cannot ask Bedsy to prom with a poster board, just fucking text him like a normal person dude. Or I dunno, ask him after practice or something."
Macklin stares down at his very heartfelt and sincere sign with a frown.
It's covered in sparkles and decorated with little hockey sticks and pucks and says, in bright blue letters, "will you go to prom with me?"
"What's wrong with it?” he asks with no small amount of petulance, "is it the glitter? Too much? Or not enough?"
Will gapes at him.
"You have to be fucking with me," Will mutters, looking like he might actually rip up Macklin's sign.
Macklin discreetly moves the sign out of Will's reach as a precaution.
What?
He's spent the past hour on it and he's not about to let that time go to waste.
"You just don't understand romance," Macklin replies once his sign is no longer in immediate danger, then pauses and adds a bit more glitter to the top right corner.
There.
Will makes a noise not unlike the last time he got drunk and tripped into a bush outside his house.
Macklin looks up, intrigued. He still has the photo of Will in the bush and would absolutely love to have more incriminating shit against his best friend if Will's about to do something embarrassing.
Unfortunately, instead of anything hilarious, Will just looks annoyed.
"I don't understand romance?" he repeats, a tick under his eyes, "and what, you do?"
Macklin rolls his eyes.
So dramatic.
"Of course dude," he affirms, "and if you're not going to help, then stop distracting me."
"You know what," Will grits out, throwing up his hands, "I give up, I hope Beds laughs you out of the room."
Macklin gives him the middle finger in response then, upon another look at the final product and some reflection, adds a heart at the end of the question.
Perfect.
-
So, Macklin has a foolproof plan.
He's going to flirt with Connor for the next two weeks to, you know, feel out the vibes.
Then, on the night of their big game against North Van, he's going to crush it and assist Connor on a goal, or vice versa.
And, post the after party, he's going to drive Connor home and properly ask him to the prom, song and sign and the whole shebang.
He's got this.
-
"Hey!" Macklin calls out and jogs a bit to catch up with Connor in the hallway, "Con!"
Connor turns around, pulling an earbud out from his left ear as he does so and, upon seeing it's Macklin, offers him a small smile, "sup Macky?"
Macklin grins back.
He likes Connor's smile and, perhaps more importantly, he likes that Connor only smiles around a few people and that Macklin is now on that very prestigious list of people.
"Oh you know," he says easily, falling into step and trying to look chill, "just thinking about prom."
Connor shakes his head, still with the same small smile, and he sounds fond when he teases, "of course you are, still trying to figure out which Melissa to take to prom bud?"
Macklin stumbles at that and bumps into some random girl who was coincidentally walking by. She giggles and bats her eyelashes at him, but Macklin pays her no mind, too busy staring at Connor with a baffled look. "What?" he demands, "Melissa? Which Melissa? Wait, no, who said I was, I mean, what?"
Something odd comes over Connor's face before he looks away, staring straight ahead and watching where they're walking. "Macky," he says calmly, "the boys chirped you about that at practice yesterday, did you just tune them out?"
Macklin wracks his brain.
"When was this?" he mutters, mostly to himself, and flushes a bit when Connor snorts.
"Near the end," Connor clarifies, looking amused, "when we were finishing up our shooting drills."
Ah.
Macklin absolutely did not pay attention then. He had been too busy watching Connor slap shot after shot into the net with unnerving accuracy and wondering what Connor would do if Macklin crowded in close and kissed him, and how nice it would be to finally get to taste Connor's trademark victorious smirk against his lips.
Oops.
"Uh," Macklin dithers briefly, then decides this is probably a good opportunity to set his plan in motion and make it abundantly clear that Macklin isn't looking to take any girls to prom.
"Can I talk to you?" he asks, then, without waiting for an answer, decisively drags Connor into a nearby alcove, thankful that there are no students loitering around and thereby affording them some semblance of privacy.
He clears his throat, "so um, I wasn't thinking of taking Melissa."
Connor raises an eyebrow.
Macklin takes in a deep breath. "I wasn't going to ask any of the girls actually," he says awkwardly, giving Connor a rather intent look and hoping the other will catch on.
Connor must do so because his other eyebrow goes up.
"Oh," he says with slightly wide eyes, then, after a brief beat, he smiles encouragingly, "and yeah, that's cool, I mean, you do you. Um, thanks for trusting me."
Macklin inwardly sighs.
Not quite the enthusiasm he had been looking for.
Shame that Connor didn't just automatically confess his undying love for Macklin upon finding out that Macklin is into guys, but that probably had been a bit of a pipe dream, all things considered.
It's fine though, Macklin had known it wouldn't be quite that simple and he's confident his plan will persuade Connor to give him a chance.
On that note, Macklin forces himself past the initial pang of disappointment and replies earnestly, "of course I trust you."
Connor nods, absentmindedly, as if he's thinking about something else and not really with Macklin, which stings just a bit, because usually Macklin doesn't have trouble holding anyone's attention.
Just a sign that you need to up your game, Macklin berates himself mentally.
With that thought in mind, Macklin runs a hand through his hair to check his flow, then catches a hold of Connor's sleeve and asks seriously, "are you a puck Con?"
Connor startles out of his reverie then gives Macklin a slow blink back, looking puzzled.
Macklin doesn't give him a chance to reply, rather, he gives Connor his best flirty smile and continues, "because I couldn't take my eyes off you yesterday."
Connor's eyes widen.
Heart in his throat, Macklin waits.
"Wow," Connor says, sounding stunned, "those puck bunnies really ignore everything that comes out of your mouth in favour of your face eh?"
Which.
What.
Connor is smirking now, eyes glittering with amusement and it's such a good look on him that Macklin genuinely feels his heart skip a beat.
"Gotta work on your game if you want to start picking up dudes as well as chicks," Connor says, reaching out to pat Macklin's cheek like one would pet a puppy on the head for doing a cute trick, "that pretty face will only get you so far Macky."
Macklin chokes.
Connor doesn't seem to notice how hot Macklin's face has gotten, or if he does, he's too polite to mention it, because instead of mocking Macklin for blushing, he instead looks down at his watch and says, "shit, have to run to class, good luck with whoever you're trying to hit on."
He then pauses, and throws Macklin a small grin, "but the hair? Yeah, flow on point bud."
Macklin watches him go, cheeks burning.
Connor called his face pretty.
Surely that means something?
-
Macklin's next opportunity is after practice, when most of the boys had given up for the day, leaving only a few of them still on the ice.
To be honest, Macklin normally would have also left, especially given he has an exam for his IB Math class next week that he really should be studying for. Except, Connor has decided to stay behind today, still diligently working through some puck handling exercises and Macklin hadn't been able to drag himself away.
Not on the off chance that Connor might want to hang out for a bit after practice.
What?
Connor and he barely have any classes together this year and Macklin will absolutely take any chance he can to spend more time with the other.
"You're down so bad bud," Will remarks, sounding fascinated, "it's honestly a bit sad to watch. Please just go and ask him out."
Macklin pushes him, ignoring Will's squawk of outrage.
"Fuck off," he mutters, "it's called having a strategy."
Will rolls his eyes, "it's not a strategy if your plan is shit."
Macklin tries to facewash him.
Will splutters and pushes himself backwards to move himself outside of Macklin's reach.
"Dude," he says with an explosive sigh, "can you stop being a pussy and just go ask Bedsy if he wants to hang out so I know if I need to drive you home? Some of us have a life."
"You haven't been waiting that long," Macklin points out, then checks the clock and does a double take.
"Yeah," Will remarks drily, "as much fun as it has been to take photos of your dopey looking face as you stare at Beds, I think twenty minutes is my limit."
Just for that, Macklin pushes Will.
He then gives himself a mental pep talk before gamely skating over to where Connor is.
Fuck Will.
Macklin wasn't staring, he was just biding his time for the perfect opportunity.
"Con?" Macklin calls out as he skates up to where Connor is practicing, taking care to fix his hair the way Connor liked last time.
Connor slows and turns to give him a surprised look.
"You're still here?" he asks, taking a look around the ice and clearly notices Will, who is not even pretending not to be watching them, "were you waiting for Smitty?"
Macklin makes a confused noise.
"What?"
Connor bites his bottom lip and gives a shrug, "I dunno, just, you usually leave on time, but I guess Smitty needed to stay a bit longer today?"
Macklin has no idea why Connor keeps bringing up Will, but he decides it isn't relevant.
"No I wasn't waiting for Smitty," he says instead, as firmly as he can, "I was actually waiting to talk to you."
Connor pauses, turning to face Macklin properly. "Do I need to worry?" he asks dubiously, raising an eyebrow, "sounding pretty serious there bud."
Macklin shakes his head, "no, not, I mean, it is serious but I just-"
He stops himself.
He normally has game he swears.
Only, Connor seems to throw all of his usual suaveness out the window by just existing.
Macklin takes in a deep breath to reset himself, before grinning his best 'I am a teenage heart throb and all the puck bunnies and their mothers love me' smile.
"Can I call a timeout?" he asks as seductively as he can, gliding just a bit closer to Connor.
Connor looks confused by the change in tone and possibly by the non-sequitur, but nods nonetheless.
"Good," Macklin purrs, tugging Connor's jersey and gently pulling him just a little too close for it to be entirely casual, "I just need a moment to admire you."
It takes a few seconds for Connor to process what he said.
Macklin knows this because it's only after those seconds have passed that Connor snorts and he says, with a ghost of a smirk on his face, "still practicing your pick up game eh?"
Which.
No.
Not again.
"Don't worry, I get it bud," Connor says gently, shrugging a shoulder, "guessing you haven't told everyone about, you know."
He casts a considering look to where Will must be, then says, quieter, "but that was much better, was almost smooth actually."
He looks down at where Macklin's still clutching onto the edge of his jersey and continues critiquing, "the proximity is a nice touch, but unless you wanna take them skating, I'm not sure it's going to work as well off the ice."
Macklin opens his mouth.
Only, before he could say anything to correct Connor's terrible misunderstanding, he hears the distinct sound of Will laughing his ass off right behind him, and Macklin's face flames red.
Fuck.
Will is going to chirp him so badly for this.
"Don't be a dick Smitty," Connor chides as Will skates over to them, still with tears of laughter in his eyes, even though Connor sounds plenty amused himself, "Macky's trying."
Will only laughs harder.
-
Macklin gives himself exactly 24 hours to lick his metaphorical wounds and get over his humiliation before he tries again.
He also mutes Will's Insta after Will sends him yet another reel of some random guy giving advice on how to pick up dudes.
stop sending these i dont need them, he texts Will right before doing so and scowls when Will immediately sends him a row of skeptical looking faced emojis back.
Whatever.
Macklin just needs to clear the air with Connor, and then he'll be golden.
"Con," he calls out when he sees Connor getting into his car on Friday afternoon, running down the flight of stairs in order to catch him before he gets in, "what are you doing tomorrow?"
Connor pauses after slinging his bag inside to think, before he shrugs and says, "not much, was just going to chill."
"Great!" Macklin grins, "do you wanna hang out then?"
"Oh," Connor says, something flashing across his face too quickly for Macklin to catch, "yeah sure, what are we doing sorry?"
Macklin beams harder, pleased that Connor had said yes so quickly. "Wanted your opinion on a gift I wanted to buy," Macklin explains, maintaining his bright grin and hoping he doesn't get questioned on his flimsy excuse.
He had figured it may be better to offer a form of pretense, so he can still claim it isn't a date if Connor reacts too badly to any flirting tomorrow. Still, Macklin feels a bit invincible at the moment, hadn't thought it would have been this easy to hang out alone with Connor, and has a passing flash of annoyance at himself for not asking earlier.
"Sure," Connor agrees, then hesitantly, "is Smitty coming or?"
"No," Macklin denies hastily, then tries to find a plausible reason and when he fails, fumbles and says lamely, "I mean, I just, you know."
He turns pleading eyes at Connor.
Maybe it's his puppy dog look, which Macklin has on good authority is very effective, or Connor's feeling sympathetic, but either way, it seems to work because Connor says quietly, something strange in his voice, "yeah, okay."
Macklin peers at him.
He feels like he's missed something, but before he can ask, some dude from Macklin's French class thumps him in the back and interrupts them to ask about the upcoming oral exam.
Macklin tries to shut down the conversation as fast as he can, especially when the guy makes it clear that he's not going to include Connor in the conversation. Unfortunately the dude is persistent and refuses to take Macklin's polite side steps as a sign to stop asking.
Annoyed but unwilling to show it in front of Connor lest he comes off like a dick, Macklin tries to brush off the continued, unsubtle offers to practice together.
After a few minutes of awkwardly observing from the side, Macklin hears Connor shift on his feet, before he says softly, "going to head out Macky, just text me the details eh?"
"Yeah okay," Macklin confirms, turning and giving Connor an apologetic smile, "see you tomorrow?"
Connor's small returning smile makes something warm light up in Macklin's stomach.
As soon as Connor's out of earshot, Macklin returns his attention to Paul, or Chris or whatever the fuck his name is.
"Sorry, pretty busy up until the exam, but good luck finding someone to practice with," he bluntly puts it out there, then, because his mother raised him right, offers a mostly sincere 'sorry'.
He doesn't bother waiting around to see the other's reaction, instead bids a distracted goodbye before he jogs to his own car.
Macklin knows he should feel bad about his rude dismissal of his classmate just now but he's still lowkey annoyed his conversation with Connor got interrupted, so he feels pretty justified in acting a bit curt.
He shoots a text off to Connor with the time and place once he gets home then proceeds to spend the entire Friday night pumping himself up for his date with Connor and barely sleeps a wink as a result.
By the time Saturday noon rolls around, Macklin has changed outfits three times and spent at least an hour in front of the mirror trying to get his hair to have the perfect flow, the way Connor likes.
He's therefore feeling pretty fucking confident by the time he gets to Pacific Centre.
Macklin doesn't go downtown often, but Charlie had suggested it earlier in the week and then none too subtly hinted that Macklin could ask Connor to go for a walk along the waterfront after their shopping date, which Macklin had agreed would be suitably romantic.
Connor's already there by the time Macklin gets to their agreed meet up spot.
"Hey," Macklin greets cheerfully, trying hard not to too visibly admire the way Connor's jeans hug his ass, "thanks for coming out Con."
Connor looks up from where he'd been frowning in concentration down at his phone, his expression smoothing out at the sight of Macklin, "no worries, where did you want to go?"
"Um," Macklin starts, knowing this is where it gets tricky, "I don't really know, was thinking of just browsing a bit until something catches our eyes?"
Your eyes, he amends mentally, because what better way to find a gift that Connor will like then for Connor to pick it out himself.
Connor lifts his eyebrows then huffs out a laugh, "sure bud, so basically you have no plan." He sounds affectionate, and there's a hint of a teasing grin on his face that Macklin can't stop himself from staring helplessly at.
"I have a plan," he insists, looking away and clearing his throat, hoping Connor hadn't caught him ogling, "it's just a very flexible plan."
Connor snorts but still follows Macklin into the throng of people.
Macklin tries not to smile too broadly when, due to how crowded it is, Connor keeps brushing against him in order to avoid bumping into strangers. It's probably a bit sad how aware he is of Connor's presence, but he can't help it, not when even the smallest touch sends a tingle of electricity up his spine.
They chat as they dip in and out of stores, and Macklin wonders if it's his imagination that Connor seems to be smiling a bit more today.
He hopes not.
It's nice.
He'd always known that Connor and he got along well, but they'd never been close, and Macklin hadn't ever really paid much attention to Connor.
It isn't until the start of the year, post a summer apart, that he had laid eyes on Connor in the locker room and felt his stomach do an odd flip at the sight of Connor's bare chest that Macklin had thought perhaps he should start paying attention. So he has, found himself looking for Connor in the hallways, at practice, and at parties and, over the course of the school year, Macklin had come to the realisation that, beyond being good at hockey, Connor is also funny, smart, and really fucking attractive when he smirks.
What's more, if Macklin is a golden retriever running about with his tail wagging at everyone, then Connor is the black cat in the corner that quietly watches and only awards select individuals with his company.
Which is all to say, whereas securing Macklin's trust and affections is easy, obtaining Connor's feels like victory after a hard fought war.
And Macklin likes the challenge.
Really likes it.
So he had made every effort to try and improve their relationship without coming off as too desperate, and had felt incredibly validated when Connor begins smiling when he sees Macklin.
Macklin can only akin the satisfaction he feels at how far they've progressed to scoring the winning goal, like he's gliding on the ice with the horn blaring in his ears.
So yeah, okay, he's been interested for a while and had definitely thought about asking Connor out before, but there's never really been a good way to do so without potentially risking their fledgling friendship.
Prom, therefore, had seemed to be the best solution.
If Macklin succeeds then great.
If he fails, then at least he can deal with his broken heart in peace over the summer.
He casts a glance at where Connor is picking idly through a selection of jackets.
Macklin is really hoping for the former scenario, he's not sure what he's going to do if Connor rejects him, he doesn't actually want to wallow all summer but he suspects that is what's going to happen.
When it becomes clear that nothing in the store seems to be catching Connor's eyes, Macklin casually nudges them out.
Connor continues to be polite but disinterested and it's not until they're in the middle of Nordstrom that Connor makes an intrigued noise and picks up something for the first time since they started.
Macklin stares at it, feeling so fond of Connor that he worries he may confess on the spot if he opens his mouth.
Connor seems to take his staring the wrong way because he hugs the Jellycat plushie to his chest, then says defensively, "fuck off dude, it's cute."
You're cute, Macklin thinks but can't manage to say without blurting out all of his too big feelings for Connor.
"It is pretty cute," he eventually gets out, when Connor begins to scowl.
"I'm going to get you," Connor says decisively to the little puck plushie, pulling at its little skates.
Macklin tenses.
"Wait," he says urgently, then pauses to think about how to best rationalize his desperate need to be the one to purchase it for Connor, "let me get it, as a thank you, I mean, for coming out with me."
Connor shoots him a quizzical look. "Nah," he brushes off the offer, then looks away, a faint hint of red in his cheeks, "it's been cool, to hang out." He then adds on, softly, "outside of school I mean."
Macklin's heart thumps once, hard in his chest, at the somewhat vulnerable expression on Connor's face and he feels himself beam in return.
"Yeah, 100%," he agrees wholeheartedly, then, because the mood seems to be good, he clears his throat and steps a bit closer, "hey Con?"
Connor's eyes widen a bit at their proximity, but he doesn't move away.
"Are you open for a pass?" Macklin asks, brushing a hand over the Jellycat's plush surface, hoping he's not imagining the way Connor stills when their hands brush, "because I'm sending my heart your way."
He waits with bated breath, peering at Connor's face.
"Oh," Connor says, still in that same soft voice and he sounds a bit strangled when he continues, "still practicing Macky?"
"Mack?"
Macklin freezes and, in front of him, so does Connor.
They both turn to look at a happily grinning Grace and an exasperated looking Will.
"Hey," Macklin says as politely as he can, mustering up a small smile for Will's sister, aware that it may come off more like a grimace at her terrible timing, before turning a less than impressed look at his best friend.
Will makes a face, like he hears all the things Macklin wants to say but is holding back because Connor is right beside him.
"Who's your friend?" Grace asks, coming closer, then upon seeing what Connor's holding, cooes, "oh that's so cute!"
Connor turns red. "Um, it's for my sister," he says, rather unconvincingly.
None of them call him out on it, and Grace goes as far as to say, "oh you're so sweet, if only I had as thoughtful a brother as you."
Will makes a protesting noise and Macklin makes a similar noise at the slightly flirty undertone in her voice.
They both watch as Grace chats cheerily with Connor, somehow leading him away to look at the rest of the Jellycat display.
"I'm going to kill you," Macklin says as calmly as he can, trying to squish down the jealousy starting to burn in his chest.
The chances of Grace actually seriously being into Connor is low.
He still glares when Connor blushes as Grace leans in a bit too close to look at something he's holding up.
"Jesus, it's not my fault, I tried," Will mutters, leaning over to whisper so they're not overheard, "but she insisted she wanted to say hi, what was I supposed to say? Sorry, Mack's busy trying to woo over his boy?"
"Yes," Macklin hisses back, turning to face Will so he can hear Macklin better without either of them having to raise their voice too much, "or just say it's not me."
Will snorts and gives him an incredulous look, "dude, she's known you for how long? How was I supposed to do that?"
"I don't know," Macklin retorts heatedly, jabbing a finger in his friend's chest, "but you could've just distracted her or something, do you know how long I've been waiting to get-"
"Honestly, you two are always like this," Grace cuts in with a laugh in her voice, "like an old married couple."
Macklin looks away from where he's been arguing with Will, realising belatedly that they're standing a bit too close and consciously takes a step back.
Grace looks amused, "no wonder you're both still single." She then turns to Connor, curiosity clear in her voice, "are you single as well?"
Macklin twitches.
He looks over desperately at Connor, catching the strangely stiff look on his face right before it turns into an awkward shrug.
"Um," Connor starts, seemingly a bit caught off guard, then mumbles with a flush to his face, "yeah."
Grace's eyes widen. "Oh," she says, "oh my God, you're a bit young for me but like, my friend Amy has a sister around your age and-"
"Smitty, for the love of God, stop her," Macklin whispers to Will, eyes widening with horror as Grace pulls out her phone to try and show Connor the girl.
Will nods grimly, then steps forward to drag his sister's attention back to himself. "What the hell," he complains loudly, "why are you introducing Beds and not, you know, your super hot younger brother?"
Macklin feels like he can breathe easier once Will and Grace start quibbling back and forth, obviously treading a well worn conversation path.
He sidles up to Connor with a slightly strained smile, wondering if he can resurrect the mood from earlier, "so..."
It's far as he gets because Connor ducks his head to avoid looking at Macklin, before he holds up the plushie still in his hands and curtly says, "going to buy this quick."
Macklin watches him go with a sinking heart.
Needless to say, they don't go for a romantic walk along the seawall.
-
"You want to go to the library together," Connor repeats slowly.
"To study," Macklin says as casually as he can, trying to keep a straight face and not show how nervous he is.
After some thought, he had decided the best thing to do is to ask Connor out for a makeup date after their last one got unceremoniously crashed by the Smith siblings. He tries on a confident grin and cajoles, "since we both have an exam tomorrow."
"Ohh," Will interjects from a few feet away, a look of excitement coming over his face, "are you two having a study date?"
Macklin glares daggers at him, intensifying it when some of the other boys make interested noises.
What are you doing, he mouths at Will.
Will winks, "why yes bud, I would love to join you two. Anyone else?"
Macklin grits his teeth when a few hands shoot up.
So that's how they end up at the library, thankfully, despite the initial interest, most of the others had begged off when they realised Macklin had genuinely meant they would be studying, leaving just Will, Frank, Macklin and Connor.
please fuck off and stop crashing my dates, Macklin texts Will on the way out of the locker room, and take tank with you
Will sends a kissy face emoji back, no chance in hell study buddy, besides, im trying to help you here
Macklin has the worst friends.
This is proven to him when Will, instead of taking out any of his notebooks or fucking textbooks, settles down at the library table and says idly, "shame we have to study, instead of practicing more pick up lines."
Macklin kicks him under the table and they push each other back and forth for a bit, getting into each other's space as normal before Macklin growls and grips both of Will's arms to stop him from smacking Macklin in the face.
He inwardly winces when he catches Connor looking at them with a strange look before Connor looks down.
It's probably Macklin's wishful thinking that has him thinking Connor's lips are a bit downturned.
"Pick up," Frank repeats, looking up from his Science textbook, "what pick up lines?"
"Oh you know," Will says breezily, twisting his arms out of Macklin's grasp and dodging Macklin's next attempt to kick him by moving his legs out of the way, "Macky's been trying different hockey themed pick up lines in recent days to ask his special someone out for prom."
Macklin gives up and just jabs an elbow into Will's side for sharing his secret so openly, rejoicing when Will yelps and drops onto the table with a pained moan.
Asshole.
He turns back to Connor and Frank to try and manage the damage, except it's too late because Frank is starting to look a little too interested.
"No way," he says, sounding delighted, "you telling me you've been trying out different pick up lines and not told us Macky?"
"It's not that many," Connor says absent-mindedly, and does not seem to see the way Frank's eyes light up even more.
Fuck, Macklin thinks when Frank eyes Macklin then Connor then back again and something knowing comes into his gaze.
"Wait," he tries to say, only to be cut off by Will.
"Yeah," Will says cheerily, "Bedsy's been our ref so far, but so far Macky's done pretty shit."
"I mean," Frank responds with a wide grin, "surely we can all use a bit of practice."
Macklin hates his life.
"You're right, hey Con, are you my stick?" Will asks flirtatiously, leaning in to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Connor's ear and aiming a slightly sleazy smile in his direction, "because I want you in my hands."
Macklin kicks Will's chair legs hard enough that Will almost topples over with the force.
Fucking traitor, he thinks to himself.
How fucking dare Will use Macklin's special nickname for Connor.
No one calls Connor 'Con' except Macklin.
But before he could retaliate further, Macklin freezes when Connor laughs.
He turns an incredulous expression on Connor.
"Not bad Smitty," Connor acknowledges, smirk on his face, "but kinda coming on strong, pretty sure she's going to think you're a fuckboy if you say that."
"Got space on your bench?" Frank interrupts, propping his chin in his hand and giving Connor a blatant look over, "because I'd love to sit next to you.”
Macklin makes a high pitched sound when Connor looks impressed.
"Not bad Tank," Connor remarks, "but a bit too smooth, also fuckboy behaviour."
He then turns to Macklin expectantly, as do Will and Frank, both wearing identical shit-eating grins.
"You going to show us how it's done Mack?" Will cajoles, raising an eyebrow significantly and nodding none too subtly at Connor.
Macklin grimaces inwardly.
He doesn't want to flirt with Connor like this, like it's a joke, like it's somehow funny to be attracted to Connor instead of an inevitability.
Only he can't not say anything, because Connor genuinely looks like he's waiting and he knows, without a doubt, that Will and Frank will not let him live it down if he chickens out.
So Macklin inwardly preps himself and asks, "are you the arena lights?"
When Connor gives him a small encouraging smile, Macklin continues quietly, "because you illuminate my life."
There is a pause.
Connor's face does something weird.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
"Wow Celly, look at you using a fancy two dollar word that I didn't know you knew," Will whistles, looking like he's having way too much fun with this whole thing, "I think you stunned Bedsy with how cheesy that was."
"Very romantic," Frank chimes in with a mockingly serious nod.
Amidst the chirping, Connor seem to shake off whatever strange mood fell over him momentarily, because he's smirking slightly when he says, "hey now, at least Macky is trying to come off as romantic. Nice work bud."
Macklin's heart leaps to his throat.
"Con-"
"What?" Will cuts in, looking offended, "I can do sweet, Beds, tell me bud, are you a rink snack? Because you look like a treat."
Connor laughs.
"No no," Frank says, "Bedsy, are we practicing drills? Because my heart keeps racing."
Macklin wants to tell them to shut up because it's not a joke, not to Macklin, only, Connor is bright-eyed and grinning and-
It's so stupid but he looks so gorgeous and content and Macklin can't bear to do anything that might make Connor stop looking like that.
He ends up staring, feeling hot all over.
"Are you the ice baby?" Frank continues, winking at Connor, "because I want to slide all over you."
Macklin's mouth drops open, aghast at the sudden change in tone.
Will snorts before he takes one of Connor's hands in his and says very seriously, "are you a hockey glove? Because I want to fit perfectly inside your hands."
Connor rolls his eyes as he takes his hand back, but his cheeks are red.
Macklin stands up abruptly.
He can't stand the sight of Connor's flushed cheeks and fond eyes as Will and Frank throw increasingly dirtier pick up lines at him.
"Need some air," he mutters and stalks off without looking at any of their reactions.
He knows Will and Frank are just having fun at his expense.
Knows that neither of them are truly interested in Connor.
He knows that.
It's just-
Macklin's jealous anyways.
It's not until he's outside the library, midway on the steps leading up to the entrance that he realises he forgot both his jacket and his phone.
"Fuck", he mutters to himself.
For the briefest of seconds, he considers going back inside but he's honestly a bit embarrassed at his own temper tantrum just now and isn't ready to face whatever chirping is coming his way once he's back.
So Macklin dithers and watches as pedestrians walk by, hugging his arms to himself when the cold evening air starts to get to him.
"Macky?"
Macklin inwardly groans.
He doesn't want to see Connor right now, not when his head is all messed up and he's still replaying the way Connor had looked when he blushed at Will's pick up line.
Fuck.
"Here," Connor says, throwing Macklin's jacket over him, "you forgot this."
Macklin's heart constricts painfully at the thoughtful gesture as he tugs his jacket around himself snugly.
"I told them to lay off by the way," Connor says conversationally, coming to stand beside Macklin and nudging him with a companionable shoulder, "I know you know they're joking but it's not cool."
Macklin turns to look at him, hope soaring in his chest.
Connor must catch the look on his face because he smiles, the gentle one that Macklin loves, "you don't have to try so hard Macky."
He then looks down, cheeks pink from the cold. "Pretty sure the whole school wants to go out with you," he continues, a bit drily, then softens his tone, "and I promise he'll love whatever you say so just be yourself bud."
He's so oblivious.
Macklin likes him so much it's crazy.
He blames the temporary insanity induced by his too big feelings as the reason for him saying, entirely too sincerely, "I'd skate circles around the rink just to catch your attention Con."
"Oh", Connor says, something surprised and pleased in his voice.
They stare at each other for a few seconds.
Macklin's heart thumping a mile a minute in his chest.
Before Connor gives him another one of those devastatingly sweet smiles that makes Macklin's knees weak.
"Better," Connor says, warm and affectionate, like he's genuinely proud of Macklin and Macklin wants to kiss him so badly he burns with it.
"Thanks," he says instead, swallowing down the urge because he's conscious they're in a very visible public space and this isn't really where he wants to have their first kiss.
He coughs to clear his throat, "should we head back in?"
Macklin turns back to the library doors in an attempt to hide his bright red face, busy trying to settle his racing heart. When he turns back, Connor has a funny look on his face.
"Yeah," Connor replies faintly when he catches Macklin looking, then glances down, "for sure bud."
-
Connor has been acting strangely around him for the past few days, distant, and when Macklin does manage to grab him for a conversation, Connor seems a bit quieter than usual.
Macklin hates it.
He also doesn't know how to fix it, had point blank asked Connor when he first noticed it and, upon Connor's tired look, agreed to drop it.
Only, Connor is still acting like he can't quite stand to look at Macklin and it-
It hurts.
So Macklin's week is not going well.
He's pretty much itching for a fight by the time the game rolls around on Friday night, the anxiety roiling under his skin, making him antsy and tense as they skate out onto the ice.
Will throws him a pointed look when Macklin stops in the middle of stretching to glare at what's happening across the ice from them.
Macklin ignores it in favour of continuing to glower at where the Captain of the North Vancouver Wolf Pack is chatting with Connor.
He had no idea they even knew each other.
Juraj Slafkovský is tall, taller than Macklin so he all but towers over Connor, and something about the way he's leaning down a bit with a smile on his face and a casual hand on Connor's shoulder gets all of Macklin's hackles up.
"Jesus fuck," Will mutters, "just fucking confess already."
Macklin tries to facewash him.
Will yelps and tries to escape him, ending up with them tangled on the ice before Macklin gives up trying to choke Will and lets him go.
When he looks over again, Connor and Juraj are both watching them and, as Macklin stares, Juraj says something to Connor that has Connor's face crumbling a bit before he looks away from Macklin and replies, saying something and ending the interaction with a pat to Juraj's chest.
"Huh," Will says, then, more urgently, "oh, OH. Mack-"
"Don't," Macklin mutters, gripping his stick tightly as his heart tries to throw itself out of his mouth.
Connor's never patted his chest like that.
"Mack," Will tries again.
"No," Macklin retorts, sharply, "just, drop it, okay? Focus on the game."
Will makes an unhappy noise. "You're being an idiot," he hisses as a parting shot, "and you need to get your shit together and talk to Beds, this isn't fair."
Macklin knows.
Just not now.
He just needs to follow his plan and get Connor a goal and remind Connor how good he is at hockey, because he knows how much hockey means to Connor.
Macklin resolutely pushes down his jealousy and clenches his jaw.
It's fine.
He just needs to get his head into the game.
Macklin manages to keep himself together for the first and second period, but it's a near thing. The game is scrappier than usual, or maybe it's the simmer of fury and jealousy still lingering in his veins that's causing him to throw himself around a bit more, relishing in the brief bursts of pain to ground himself.
It's not until the third period, during a face-off that he hears Juraj say, "are you the penalty box? Because I want to spend two minutes with you."
Connor actually fucking blushes.
Juraj smirks, "or more."
Macklin genuinely sees red.
He doesn't even wait until the puck is properly dropped before he's swinging.
It doesn't last long, not with Juraj being so taken by surprise and the ref being right in front of them.
Still, Macklin manages to get a few decent swings before he's pulled away, probably snarling like a feral dog still at the other Captain.
"What the fuck," Connor asks in a low voice as he follows Macklin as he's lead away, predictably to the penalty box, "dude, what the fuck was that?"
Macklin grunts.
He doesn't want to explain, especially not on the ice.
Will gives him a disappointed look as they pass the bench.
Macklin looks away.
Yeah.
He knows.
He stews in the penalty box and grits his teeth when, a minute into his admittedly deserved penalty, Juraj slaps in a hard one from the fucking blue line of all places and ties the game.
Connor's face is mutinuous.
Macklin hunches his shoulders.
Fuck.
-
They win the game, but it's no thanks in any part to Macklin and he knows it.
Worst yet, Connor knows it and has been dodging him all night. Every time Macklin sees him and tries to strike up a conversation, Connor makes some excuse and fucks off to another corner of the party and it's driving Macklin up the wall.
He respects Connor too much to just demand they talk and he's really fucking sorry he was such a hindrance this game but he hates being blocked out by Connor like this.
He says as much to Will.
"Dude," Will replies, sounding exasperated, "I told you, you're making this harder than it needs to be, just ask him to talk. I swear to God, if you don't I will-" He then must see something behind Macklin because he chokes mid-sentence and his eyes bug out.
"What?" Macklin asks waspishly, not in the mood for his friend’s antics and, when Will doesn't immediately reply, turns to look over at where Will is staring.
He then freezes, because Juraj fucking Slafkovský is at their team's house party.
What the fuck.
Then he registers who Juraj is speaking to and he feels like throwing hands all over again.
"Mack," Will says warningly, "what are you-"
Macklin doesn't hear the rest of it because he's striding over to where Connor is laughing at something Juraj is saying, a flush on his cheeks and rising at the back of his neck.
Jealousy burns so brightly in Macklin's chest he genuinely thinks he might be able to spit fire out of his mouth.
"Con," he calls out loudly, then has to force himself to chill out when Connor looks over with a sharp expression, "shit sorry, just, can I talk to you please?"
He pointedly ignores Juraj.
Connor gives Juraj an awkward look.
"Go," Juraj says, smiling his perfect smile that shows off his too white teeth, "I'll be here." He gives Connor a heated look, which Connor appears to catch the meaning of because he blushes endearingly and looks away.
Macklin wants to punch Juraj in the face, instead he shows remarkable self-restrain by not getting himself beat up, opting rather to grip onto Connor's hand and all but dragging him away.
So much for not just demanding Connor and you talk, he thinks ruefully to himself.
They pass Will on the way out, now chatting to some random girl and Macklin pointedly ignores him when Will calls out to them.
"Macky," Connor eventually says once Mack has dragged them upstairs and into the first empty bedroom he finds.
"Con," he replies distractedly, trying to lock the door so they don't get interrupted, making a triumphant sound when he manages to do so.
"You alright bud?" Connor asks cautiously, backlit by the pale moonlight streaming from the windows.
"No," Macklin says once he regroups himself.
He's suddenly realising that this is it, that he might have to confess now and ask Connor, because he doesn't think he can stand to watch yet another person flirt with Connor.
He spares a moment of sadness for his poster board, still sitting in the trunk of his car, hidden below his bag and carefully wrapped in plastic so it doesn't get dirty.
But needs must and all that, though, first things first.
"I'm really sorry I fucked up," he says, squeezing his eyes shut, "I know I played shit today." He wouldn't normally apologise and if it was anyone else other than Connor, Macklin would have brushed it off because everyone has an off game, but he hates disappointing Connor.
Especially when it comes to hockey.
Connor is silent for a bit, then he blows out a long breath.
"Did something happen?" he sounds less upset with Macklin now, which is a marked improvement and means Macklin was right in suspecting that part of Connor's avoidance of him tonight was attributable to Macklin's dismal game performance.
Macklin swallows, pushing down the fear of fucking this up and just goes for it, "I'm not, and I know this is stupid but I'm really fucking jealous Con."
"Oh," Connor says softly, then carefully, "because?"
"Because I hate to see him touch-" Macklin bites off the rest of his words, aware that he was about to say 'you' and that he's raising his voice and that neither is fair to Connor.
It’s not Connor's fault that Juraj finds him attractive.
Hell, that's probably the one thing Macklin won't fault Juraj for, at least the dude has eyes.
Taking in a deep breath to center himself in the present, he steps closer, pleased when Connor doesn't protest or back up.
Only, up close and with his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, Macklin hesitates when he realises that Connor looks almost...sad?
Before Macklin could ask why, Connor seems to pull himself together and says quietly, "maybe you should just talk to him."
Macklin scowls.
He would rather kiss a rat than talk to Juraj.
"He's a good guy Macky," Connor continues, something bitter and resigned on his face.
And I’m not? Macklin thinks past the sudden painful clenching of his heart.
He hates that Connor is defending Juraj.
I'm your captain, Macklin wants to shout, why are you not defending me?
"I don't-" Macklin starts to say.
"Mack," Connor cuts him off uncharacteristically, sounding tired, "I, just, I don't think I can do this right now. I know it's tough but you need to talk to Smitty. And look, I know you're probably afraid you'll damage your friendship with him but I promise you it'll be fine."
Macklin's ears are ringing.
He has no idea why Connor is bringing up Will now of all times and it's such a mystery that it stuns him into silence.
Connor looks up with a half-hearted smile, "promise that Smitty would be a fool to reject you, and as much as he's an idiot, he's not a fool."
He then looks down again, then continues in a low voice, "so just, ask him to prom Mack."
"I don't," Macklin starts to deny, brain coming back online and suddenly feeling desperate to clear the confusion.
"You do," Connor interrupts once more, sounding frustrated, "I figured it out okay? You've been using me to make Smitty jealous, and it's-" He cuts himself off with a harsh laugh that makes Macklin flinch, "it's actually kind of a shit thing to do bud, especially when I-"
He stops himself again, swallows audibly then whispers, "look, I just, I can't do this anymore. Just ask Smitty out, or find someone else to practice on."
He pushes past Macklin on the way out, and Macklin lets him, because this is not going the way he planned and, for once, he's at a loss of what to say or do. But he still shudders at the brief contact, feeling all the places Connor brushes burn with heat.
Macklin hears the lock turn, but he can't move, can't speak because he feels sick to his stomach and he worries he may actually vomit his heart out if he opens his mouth.
This is all going so horribly wrong.
"For what it's worth," Connor says evenly, "you're a catch Macky and you always have been, so have some confidence and just confess okay?"
Then he's gone.
Macklin feels his eyes burn.
What a mess.
It takes him longer than it should to compose himself, but when he finally stumbles downstairs, he's unsurprised to see that Connor and Juraj are both gone.
He feels sick to the bottom of his stomach once more.
Mentally, he goes through his supposedly foolproof plan:
1) Flirt with Connor - dismal results at best, apparently all Macklin managed to do was convince Connor he has a raging boner for Will, instead of, you know, who he actually has a massive fucking crush on;
2) Give Connor an assist - failed, really fucking failed; and
3) Drive Connor home and ask him to the prom - definitely a fail, given Connor's gone home with Juraj fucking Slafkovský instead of Macklin.
Fuck.
"What the fuck happened," Will finds him in the kitchen a while later.
He looks worried. "Why did Connor leave?"
Macklin looks up from his, he squints down at the shot in his hand, fifth or sixth shot, and shrugs. "Probably off fucking Slaf," he mutters, and hates the way his chest tightens at the thought.
"What?" Will demands loudly, then seems to remember where he is and lowers his voice, "what do you mean?"
"I mean," Macklin says petulantly, "that I tried confessing and talking it out like you suggested, and it didn't work."
"How?" Will asks, sounding genuinely confused, "Mack, what did you say?"
"I said I was jealous, that I didn't like Juraj touching him," Macklin lists then bitterly, "and he told me he thought I've been using him as practice to, you know, figure out how to ask you out."
Will gags at the thought, face scrunching up.
That makes Macklin smile, although it's a pale imitation of his usual grins. "Yeah," he says in a heartfelt manner, "I feel you bud, promise you I don't like you that way."
"No fucking shit," Will rolls his eyes, "we all know you're down bad for Bedsy." He then pauses and looks honestly baffled, "except apparently Bedsy himself, which is, wow, you two fucking idiots deserve each other."
Macklin gives him the middle finger for lack of a better response.
Will shoves him.
"Just for that, I might leave you to get shit faced with your sad shots," he mutters, then groans and says, more to himself, "but then I'd have to make sure you don't die of alcohol poisoning and I have to watch you both make eyes at each other over the summer. Nope, yeah, nope okay."
"Mack," he says seriously, seeming to have come to a decision, "I just want you to know that I saw Slaf with his tongue down some blonde's throat a few minutes ago."
Macklin's brain stalls.
He blames the alcohol.
"What?" he asks faintly, then chokes out, "I thought, Con, what?"
"Apparently," Will says meaningfully, "he asked Bedsy to head out with him and Beds turned him down."
Macklin's heart starts to pound as hope once more blossoms in his chest.
It must be visible on his face because Will softens, "so I'm just saying, you know, you might want to try talking to Bedsy again."
"Yeah," Macklin says, then looks down at the empty shot glasses on the counter, "uh."
Will sighs.
-
"For the record," Will says, "this is a terrible idea still."
Macklin is too busy trying not to puke to reply.
He has no idea if it's Will's absolutely shit driving, the sixth shots he had or the fact that they've just pulled up in front of Connor's house.
"I can't do this," he mutters, trying to sink down in his seat.
Will taps a finger against the wheel, "I mean, I've been telling you for weeks now. You don't need to do this, Beds likes you, you can just ask him out normally."
But Con is special, Macklin thinks then tacks on rather petulantly, and he liked it when I was romantic.
Will must see the stubborn look on Macklin's face because he rolls his eyes, "okay, or you can be an idiot and still go ahead with your shit plan, but just so you know, I'm going to record you so the boys and I can fucking chirp you later." He then pauses and adds on firmly, "and maybe make it clear that you and I are just friends, horribly codependent maybe, but still only ever going to be friends."
When Macklin makes a miserable noise in response, Will pulls a face and says, "or you don't have to do this tonight, you can sleep it off and, if you want, I can even drive you back here tomorrow."
Macklin thinks about that.
That may be the smarter idea.
Except, he hates the idea that Connor is going to go to sleep yet another night thinking that Macklin has, what?
Been an absolute dick and used him to practice flirting with guys?
"I don't need to practice flirting with dudes," he says out loud, ignoring Will's deeply skeptical look in response.
It's true though, Macklin usually does have game, and has hooked up with guys on the rare occasion in the past.
It's just Connor, who seems utterly oblivious to Macklin's efforts.
He stares at Connor's house and thinks back to the past few weeks, the last few days, the day at the library and how Connor had looked, and how upset Connor had looked at the party earlier-
"Oh," he says wonderingly as something clicks in his head, turning urgently to Will, "Con likes me!"
Will frowns.
"I told you that," he says, outraged, "I literally said that right now, you don't get to pretend this is news- hey!"
Macklin doesn't listen, he has no idea how he hasn't caught on until now, but so many little things are lining up in his head, the odd looks, the strangely defeated way Connor had looked earlier and wow.
Shit.
Macklin really is an idiot.
It's not that Connor doesn't like Macklin, is it?
It's that, for whatever reason, Connor can't seem to believe that Macklin could like him back.
That's why he liked it when Macklin had been romantic and sweet instead of just being flirty.
Macklin grins giddily to himself.
He can do romantic.
He dashes out of Will's car and pulls the boombox out of the backseat, the one he bought off of Amazon just for this occasion, before taking out the poster board carefully from the same backseat.
Macklin gives himself a moment to steady himself, then walks onto Connor's front lawn and sets the boombox by his feet. He then takes in a deep breath and bends down to press play, trying not to cringe when One Direction comes blaring out, loud and clear.
Shit, he really hopes Connor comes out fast.
Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.
He holds up the sign, spluttering when some of the glitter falls on him.
Thankfully, within a few seconds of the song starting, the lights come on in Connor's bedroom and, as Macklin watches, Connor appears by his window.
They lock eyes and Connor's face does something odd before he squints, likely at the sign Macklin is holding, and his mouth drops open.
He disappears from the window.
Macklin holds his breath.
Every second feels like torture and he really wishes that Connor had at least smiled or something so Macklin knows he's not just holding up this sign stupidly for nothing.
His hands are sweaty by the time the front door opens and Connor comes out in a hoodie and sweatpants. Macklin waves weakly when he sees Madi and Connor's parents peering out from behind the door.
Connor is red in the face by the time he reaches where Macklin is standing on the lawn.
"Dude," he hisses in exasperation as he comes to a standstill close to Macklin, "it's almost midnight-"
"Will you go to prom with me?" Macklin blurts out before Connor could finish, then swallows hard, "I really like you Con, and um, I promise I haven't been using you as practice, I just, I really was flirting with you? Though this does explain why none of my moves worked on you if you thought I was just-"
"Are you drunk?" Connor asks brusquely then, still red, as One Direction explains that's what makes him beautiful, "just, can we talk inside?"
He glances down and says firmly, "without the music."
Then, looking past Macklin, he continues in a dry tone, "did you want to come in too?"
Macklin makes a confused sound and turns around.
Will waves jauntily from where he's clearly been leaning against his car and watching the whole debacle.
"Don't mind me Beds," Will calls out, "I'm just the chauffeur because our fearless captain is an idiot and had too many shots after he thought you rejected him, so just pretend I'm not even here."
Macklin glares at him, feeling betrayed by Will's very accurate but unnecessary explanation, then he notices what's in Will’s hand.
"Are you filming," he asks flatly, "because if you are, then I might suddenly want to talk about the time that you decided to shave your-"
"I'm stopping, I'm stopping," Will yelps, hurriedly holding out his phone to show he's stopped, "Jesus, chill."
"No," Macklin says, turning back to Connor, whose face isn't looking anywhere near as happy as Macklin wants it to, "he's not coming in."
Will sighs, affecting a fake pout, "and here I thought I could record your first kiss for your wedding, but fine, spoil my fun."
"Bye Will," Macklin says forcefully, then remembers to shut off the boombox when the chorus starts again, "and take this with you?"
Will rolls his eyes but gamely walks over to grab it before heading back to his car.
Macklin watches him drive off before turning back to Connor, who looks relieved.
Idly, Macklin wonders if it's because of the silence or, he hopes silently, if it's because of Macklin's obvious dismissal of Will.
"So," he says as casually as he can while standing on Connor's lawn after having attempted to serenade him into going to prom together at ass o'clock in the evening, "inside?"
Connor startles and gives Macklin another one of those odd looks, before he nods, and turns to walk back in.
Macklin follows, scrambling to keep up, his stomach sinking a bit at the lingering weirdness in the air.
He politely greets Madi and Connor's parents, but doesn't manage to say anything beyond a rushed 'hello' before Connor drags him upstairs.
"What was that?" Connor demands, once they're in his room and the door has been shut.
"Uh," Macklin says, then decides to just hold up the poster again and point at the question.
Some glitter fall on the carpet.
Connor stares at it, mouth downturned.
"Why are you doing this," he eventually asks in a rough voice, "I didn't think-"
"I like you," Macklin confesses again, hurriedly cutting Connor off, then continues quieter, "I really like you Con."
Connor looks unconvinced.
Macklin bends to put down the sign, conscious that he likely wants his hands free for this conversation and mindful not to get more glitter on Connor's carpet, though the latter appears to be a lost cause.
"I mean it," Macklin says as he straightens up, grabbing a hold of Connor's sleeve to prevent him from moving away, "this has nothing to do with me being drunk, and it's not a joke for a video, or whatever else you might be thinking, I just-"
He breaks off, sounding frustrated even to himself. "I just like you," he says then more plaintively, "and I don't understand why you don't seem to believe me."
Connor is silent, long enough that Macklin loosens his hold on Connor's sleeve, conscious that he can't actually keep Connor from moving indefinitely.
Even if he wants to.
"Because everyone wants you," Connor eventually gets out, tone careful, "you can have your pick of anyone so I don't understand why you-"
He cuts himself off and looks down.
But Macklin can fill in the rest of the words.
"See," Macklin murmurs, moving in closer, "this is why I picked that song."
Connor looks up and sends him an annoyed look.
"No, I'm not making fun," Macklin explains, reaching out to brush his hand against the back of Connor's hand, pleased when Connor turns pink and shivers a bit, "you have no idea how much of a catch you are, do you?"
He says this curiously, because he genuinely cannot fathom how blind Connor can be to his own appeal.
Connor rolls his eyes. "Laying it on a bit thick there Romeo," he says, but he's still pink cheeked, so he can't hate what Macklin is saying too much.
"I mean it Con," Macklin says, "do you know how jealous I've been?"
That earns him a disbelieving look.
"Macky," Connor says patiently and with great emphasis, "do you know how many people hit on you this week?"
Macklin furrows his brows.
"What does that matter?" he demands, "none of them are you."
Connor reddens a bit more, then, tentatively, he says in a small voice, "and besides, I thought you liked Will?"
"I don't like him like that," Macklin replies and, feeling his cheeks heat, says, "I, um, I like like you."
"Like like," Connor repeats slowly.
Macklin flushes.
"Even though," Connor starts to say, then pauses, looking conflicted before he ultimately confesses, "you didn't even notice me until this year, you can see why I might find this all hard to believe right?"
"No, I don't," Macklin replies stubbornly, "I'm not saying you're wrong, I know we weren't close before but I know you better now so why is it hard to believe that I would fall for you?"
When Connor continues to look doubtful, Macklin takes in a deep breath and tries to put his feelings into words better, "Con, you let me practice flirting with you because you thought I was too nervous to flirt with the guy I liked, and even though you were wrong, it doesn't change the fact that most guys wouldn't have done that."
Macklin looks down and carefully tangles their fingers together until he's holding Connor's hand, "you want to know why I like you? It's because of things like that Con, yes, you're hot and good at hockey and funny, but you're also gentle and kind and-"
He breaks off to huff out a laugh, "and you're cute when you pretend not to want a Jellycat plushie for yourself."
Connor makes a noise and subtly moves in front of his bed, as if Macklin hadn't seen the puck plushie immediately when he had been dragged into the room.
Macklin snorts, feeling so terribly fond, "too late bud, already seen it."
Connor flushes, before he looks down and clears his throat, looking like he's lost in thought.
Macklin lets him process, because while he's honestly not sure how Connor could have so wildly misinterpreted Macklin's actions in the past few weeks, he does get why Connor might now need some time to reframe some of their interactions.
So he waits patiently, and tries not to stare too hard at the way Connor's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks when he blinks, or how his eyes seem more blue than gray under the fluorescent white light, or the way he's chewing a bit on his lips and turning them red and Macklin wishes he could lean in and finally kiss him-
Oops.
Macklin forces himself to stop that train of thought before it goes any further and resolutely stays still.
After what seems like forever, Connor looks up and catches his gaze, appearing briefly startled when he realises that Macklin is already looking back.
They stare at each other for a moment and it reminds Macklin of that time outside the library, because it had felt the same back then.
Like there's a sense of anticipation in the air.
Like they're both waiting to see if the other is going to take the plunge.
Yes, Macklin thinks and hopes he conveys that with his expression.
Hell, in all honesty, Macklin has already jumped and he'll catch Connor if Connor will allow himself to believe Macklin enough to do so as well.
He has no idea if Connor sees any of that, but whatever he does see seems to convince him anyway because he squeezes Macklin's hand briefly and the corners of his mouth lift up just a tick.
"So," Connor says after a beat, still looking like he's trying hard to fight down a smile, "did you just say you like like me?"
There's a teasing smirk on his face.
Macklin stares, suddenly feeling like any and all embarrassment is worth it for the way Connor's looking at him, tender and affectionate, like-
Like maybe Connor is going to trust Macklin with his heart after all.
It feels like scoring an impossible goal, like tipping one in from the air, like squeezing one just between that tiny gap in the five hole.
In short, it feels like winning despite the odds.
"Yeah, I do Con," he says softly, the alcohol in his system making him brave, "I mean, I'd drop everything just to share the rink with you."
Connor makes a funny noise, and when Macklin looks, Connor's eyes are bright and his cheeks are pink once more.
"Still trying out bad pick up lines?" Connor teases, but he's moving closer, until they're more or less pressed together.
Macklin takes in a sharp breath. "I mean," he says weakly, "is it working?"
Connor hums, swaying just a bit closer, then his gaze focuses somewhere on Macklin's cheek and he chuckles.
Macklin gives him a questioning look.
In lieu of explaining, Connor simply raises a hand to brush against the spot he was looking at before holding it up so they both can see.
Macklin stares down at the glitter on Connor's hand.
"Con," he asks, more calmly than he feels, "did you let me do my entire confession while I had glitter on my face?"
Connor laughs in response, loud and bright, eyes glittering with amusement at Macklin's expense and Macklin should be annoyed but instead he feels like he's drowning in warm syrup, like he's never going to be cold again if Connor will only continue to look at him this way.
"So," he says, hoping he doesn't look too besotted, "is that a yes to prom?"
Actually, what he really wants to know is if Connor will go out with him but Macklin figures he'll ask Connor that particular question once they've have a proper date.
One that both of them know they're on and doesn't involve Will in any way whatsoever.
Connor hums, as if he's genuinely having to consider Macklin's offer of going to prom together, before he leans in and kisses Macklin.
It's just a gentle brush of their lips before he pulls away with a small grin.
"What do you think?"
Macklin kisses him again instead of responding.
They've wasted enough time on words and bad pick up lines.