Chapter Text
The game was hardly halfway through the first period, and there had already been several scraps and fights. Tensions continued to rise and the hits only got dirtier. The Knights were already two goals up from the Sharks, and Mack hadn't won a single faceoff.
They were facing off in Sharks territory, and Mack had his eyes locked on to the dot. The Linesman dropped the puck, and both him and the Knights player swiped at it. Finally, finally, Mack won, getting the puck to Will.
For the rest of his shift, anytime he got the puck he was immediately met with a very physical Knights player. After picking himself up off of the ice for the third time, he was ready for this period to end and a much needed break. He was sure to have many bruises tomorrow.
This violent form of playing wasn’t anything new to Mack. Many alpha or beta players didn’t think that omegas belonged in the NHL, and they made sure to let him know on the ice.
He wasn’t even one of the first omegas in the league; they had been allowed for more than thirty years, but they were few and far between, and Mack was the first omega to be a first overall draft pick since Sidney Crosby. At the start of his career, he had received many comments about being a diversity pick and such, but now that he was doing so well, people resorted to physical attacks instead of verbal.
With just two minutes left in the period, neither team had scored again. A Knights player landed a nasty hit to one of the defensemen. Immediately, Sharks players began to pile on and a brawl broke out. Mack jumped in and tried to rip a large Knight player off the back of Smitty. The player whirled on him and grabbed onto his jersey, and they started exchanging blows.
Mack took a few good punches to the face, but his opponent had started to stumble and had almost gone to the ice a few times. The Knights player knew it too, his attacks uncoordinated and desperate.
Just when Mack was sure it was over, the Knights player lunged toward him and grabbed on to his shoulders. A huge, hot hand grasped the back of his neck.
Mack’s entire body locked up and he crashed down to the ice. The sounds of the stadium and the surrounding fight faded and a buzzing filled his ears. He was being scruffed. He was being scruffed!
All he could feel was disbelief. Scruffing was not something that normal people did to strangers. It was completely inappropriate and disrespectful. The ice pressed hard against his cheek, and he felt the entire weight of the Knights player on top of him. Where the hell were the refs?
“Look at you, kneeling for me like a good little omega.” He wished he had control of his muscles to jerk away from the hot breath in his ear. “Guess you’re not so tough now, huh? What a cute little puppy.”
It was getting hard to breathe and his muscles ached from being tense and locked. Panic rose as he tried to fight him off. The weight of the man on top of him crushed down on his ribs. The other players were still fighting around them, and he could hear the muffled roar of the crowd.
He wheezed in another breath. The hand gripping painfully on the back of his neck had begun to slide off from the sweat. Some feeling came back into his limbs, though they still buzzed and tingled. He jerked a hand up, punching into the side of the man while wriggling out from under him.
The man felt him and adjusted his grip, locking down Mack’s muscles again. “Stay DOWN!” The Knights player’s Alpha Voice roared into his ears, and he completely lost control of his body. He pressed as close to the ice as he could, and felt horror wash over him as his head tilted back against his will, his neck bared. He whined, long and high-pitched.
Something slammed into the side of him, and the weight disappeared from his back. The hand was ripped off of his neck. He sucked in a large breath and covered the back of his neck with his own hand. There were skates stepping all around him, Mack could do nothing but cover his head. The blinding lights of the stadium flickered as people moved above him.
He was still weak and disoriented from the scruffing and the command. Something pressed on to his face that wasn’t the ice. Someone's hands. He jerked away, but they cupped both of his cheeks and steadied his head. He opened his eyes, and he could make out the blurry logo of a sharks jersey. He glanced higher, and saw Toff’s face.
Toff was hunched over him, holding his face and shielding him from the fighting that he thought had calmed down.
“-lin. Macklin.” Toff was talking to him, voice worried and urgent.
Mack groaned and shut his eyes again, trying to turn his head out of Toff’s hands, but the alpha held tight.
“Hey, Mackie. Shhhhhh. It’s ok.” Toff’s voice was soft, but under its soothing tone, there was a boiling anger. Mack didn’t think it was directed at him.
There was a thundering cacophony all around him; skates scraping on the ice, shouts of his teammates and the stadium, whistles screeching, and sticks clattering.
Toff shifted on top of him, scooping his bare hands around Mack’s upper arm, and he felt another pair on the other side. He was hoisted up onto his unsteady feet, and suddenly he was moving again, being helped over to the bench and down the tunnel to the locker room. The noise faded as they went.
There were trainers waiting for him, and Toff and Ekky, who was the other pair of hands supporting him, transferred him over. Toff squeezed his shoulder and Ekky fluffed his hair.
“We’ll be back soon, okay Mack? Right after this period is over.” The duo turned and hustled back up to the rink.
The trainers sat him on a bench and peppered him with questions that he could only half-answer, his head still felt floaty and disconnected. He hardly had a thought about wanting to rejoin the game, which was unusual for him. All he wanted right now was to be surrounded with his team and tucked into a cozy nest.
Finally, the distant buzzer sounded, and the Sharks came flooding into the locker room, led by Smitty, who was the first to reach him and yank him into a tight hug. The room began to stink with the scent of hot anger.
“How are you feeling, superstar?” Will asked into the top of his head.
“I’ve been better.” Mack answered shakily. “Did that guy get a penalty?”
“A penalty?” Scoffed Ekky. “They booted him. He’s been placed under investigation.”
“What he did to you was illegal, Mack.” Toff crouched in front of him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “He could lose his career. Actually, he could get arrested. Scruffing and commanding someone non-consensually both classify as assault.”
Guilt erupted in Mack’s stomach. “Arrested? I don’t want that. Just because I…” Was being a crybaby. His mind finished. Because I was too fragile to fight, just like everyone always says.
Sometimes, he hates his dynamic, because he’s sure everyone in the room can smell the sour guilt and sadness. He may have just ruined someone’s life, just because he’s a stupid omega.
Toff’s hand tightened. “Hey, no you don’t. You don’t get to feel bad because someone assaulted you on live TV. That’s one-hundred percent on him.”
Warso approached the little huddle around Mack. “Sorry about that, bud. The League's stepping in on this one, they’ve been trying to prevent incidents like this. Do you feel good enough to play?”
His dynamic may have just humiliated him on the ice, but he would not let people think it affected him. “I’m all good coach.”
“Mack-”
“I’m fine Smitty, seriously. I just need to clear my head.”
After listening to the speech in the locker room and dumping a cold bottle of water over his head, it was time to take the ice.
He was on the starting line again. The game restarted, the Sharks playing with a renewed vigor. The puck stayed mostly on the Knights ice.
Mack was trying to play hard, to prove himself again, but his brain felt like it was lagging behind the play, and his body was reacting a half-second behind. He felt like there was electricity buzzing under his skin, and sweat was beading on his forehead.
The whole period, the Sharks only got one more goal on a power play, and Mack continued his substandard playing. His whole body had begun to sweat, much more than he ever did with the usual exertion of a hockey game. The team kept casting him worried looks and he had been asked, “You good?” too many times to count.
During the second intermission, he sat on his locker bench with his face in his hands, trying to regain focus. A headache had sprung up behind his eyes, and his whole body was aching. Resting was doing nothing to fight the fatigue and sweat. He was almost desperate to strip off his jersey, just to escape the heat.
Warso walked over again. “You’re not playing this period, Celebrini.”
Mack’s head snapped up, “No, wait–please coach, i’m fine, I’ll do better-”
“I don’t want to do this, Mack, but whatever happened is affecting your play now. We need our best if we want to win this game.” Warso turned to the room. “We’re on in five.”
Mack watched helplessly at Warso’s retreating figure before returning his face to his hands. He couldn’t bear the pitying looks that the team was sending him, and he refused to cry in front of them. That can wait for the hotel room. Stupid, stupid dynamic.
He took a seat on the bench, where he’d be spending the rest of the third period.
He wanted more than anything to jump over the wall in front of them and join in the playing. He can already see the headlines: Omega player too weak to play after one fight; Macklin Celebrini: Superstar or liability?; Can fragile omega’s really handle pro sports?
However, as the game progressed, he couldn't help but see Warso’s point. His head was as foggy as when he was being scruffed, and a migraine had set in. It was taking everything in Mack to not curl into a ball and cover his ears against the screaming of the fans. His nose was picking up every scent much stronger than usual. He was also still sweating and panting like he had just finished a particularly hard shift, and he felt like clawing off all of his gear to escape the unbearable heat.
He doesn't even register the final horn blowing as the Knights took the ice in Celebration. The Sharks on the bench stood and began walking to the room around him, and he sat there for a few seconds longer before he realized and stumbled to his feet. Toff caught his arm and steadied him.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Mack wanted to snap out a tense I’m fine, but he couldn’t get himself to speak.
He didn’t hear a word of the debrief, too trapped in his own discomfort. As Warso spoke, a sharp pain had begun twisting in his stomach, and he hunched over himself to stop it.
The team began removing gear and showers turned on, but Mack continued to sit hunched with his eyes closed. He wanted nothing more than to get out of his gear and take a cold shower to combat the heat, but the thought of showering surrounded by his alpha and beta teammates was unbearable right now.
He needed to be clean and in his favorite pajamas, laying in his nest with the scents of all of his teammates, cuddled up with-oh. Mack was going into heat. That was definitely not supposed to be happening right now. This was very, very bad. He had nothing prepared, no nest and no supplies for one, and-
A hand rested on him again, and Mack nearly whined at the touch.
“Something’s wrong, Celly. Talk to me.”
Mack looked up into Will’s concerned eyes.
“Will, I–I’m-”
With his sudden proximity, Will’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened.
“Dude, you’re-”
“I know.” Mack said miserably. “I don’t know what to do, I don't have anything ready-” Panic was well and truly setting in, for both Mack and Will.
“No, no, no, you’re gonna be fine dude. Let me just, uh, get someone?” Will was speaking fast and fluttering worriedly around Mack, unsure of how to help. Mack nuzzled into Will's hands, trying to find his soothing beta scent.
After that, Mack barely processed what was happening. There was a quick flurry of raised voices. Toff and Will were there, and with help from some trainers, they eased Mack out of his skates and jersey. They decided to have him shower back at the hotel, and he put on some sweats and a t-shirt in his bag without showering.
Mack’s head was spinning so bad that he couldn’t walk straight, so Will and Ekky hoisted him up to walk on to the bus.
Mack tried to twist out of their grips. “No, no. I smell like–like– I need patches…”
Will tried to grab onto him again. “Dude, you can’t. Your scent glands are like–super sensitive. It wouldn’t do any good-”
At his rejection, Mack let out a long whine which would have mortified him under regular circumstances. The already concerned Sharks team all turned to stare at them.
“Shhh, Mack, you’re okay.” Will’s fingers were combing through his sweaty hair, and Mack relaxed a little.
“What is it now?” Reavo’s deep voice asked, suddenly beside them.
“Mack won’t get on the bus without scent patches on.”
Reavo sighed, rubbing his hand on Mack’s back. “I don’t like it either, but it won’t do any good to reason with him like this. We need to get him to the hotel as comfortably and quickly as possible.”
Will deflated. “...fine. I have some in my bag, in the front pocket.”
Reavo retrieved the box, and tilted Mack’s head back by the chin. The patches stung and burned on his swollen glands, and he whined again.
“You’re okay, Mack. We’re gonna get back to the hotel and you can build a nest and-”
The bus ride passed in a blur, with Mack leaning up against Will, only able to focus on the cramping and the burning in his skin.
He really didn’t understand why this was happening. Like every other omega athlete, and basically every other adult omega in the West, Mack used suppressants and carefully planned his breaks to spend his heats. He heard Toff reading something off of his phone, something about stress heats.
Mack had heard about stress heats. They were taught about during sex ed in high school, though Mack wished that he paid more attention. All he remembered was that they were much more intense, basically skipped the preheat stage and plunged straight into full-on heat, and could be more painful.
Between that and the fact that he would have to spend it alone in his bare hotel room instead of his cozy nest at home, one thing was certain: This was going to suck, big time.