Work Text:
“Okay, Charlie, first statement – I prefer to do things with others rather than on my own,” Dee began, glancing at her phone before she peered curiously over at the short, bearded man. “Definitely agree, somewhat agree, definitely disagree or somewhat disagree. Which one are you choosing?”
“Uh, well, I don’t know. I mean, I love doing things with Frank, and Mac, oh and Dennis,” he added as he looked around the bar. “But like, I prefer to go to the bathroom by myself. Unless, of course, Frank is in there. We’ll either talk or play Battleshits or sometimes, he’ll fall asleep in the stall and then I’ll have to crawl under and wake him up.”
“You’re really making me regret starting this, Charlie,” Dee returned, lips pursed and brow furrowed as she studied the dark-haired man.
“Regret starting what? Your new makeup routine?” Dennis teased and Charlie burst out laughing.
“Dude, that’s totally why her face looks so weird. It’s like the eye stuff and like, Dee why is your hair so light but your eyebrows are dark as shit?” Charlie questioned and Dee growled in response.
“We’re not –” And she paused, lowering her voice as she ran an index finger over one of her eyebrows. “We’re not talking about my eyebrows, I’m giving you an assessment, remember?” she reminded him, and Dennis’ brow raised in return.
“Oh yeah, what kind of assessment? How does one live off of cat food, paint and cheese and still have brain cells left?” Dennis joked, and Mac chuckled at his words from his stool.
A grin to rival a Cheshire cat’s spread along Dee’s lips, blue eyes gleaming deviously. “No, it’s actually a personality assessment,” she answered, and naturally, Dennis’ interest was piqued.
“Well, judging that Charlie doesn’t really have all that much of one, and I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Dennis inferred, turning towards Charlie and patting his forearm that was resting atop the bar, “How about you give it to me? I can at least remember the choices.”
“I mean, I have a pretty great personality, so I would like to continue,” Charlie nodded as he tapped his index fingers along the countertop. “So fire away, Dee.”
“You haven’t responded to the first statement yet, Charlie,” Dee reminded him, and he scoffed in response.
“Uh, I’m going to go with the number seven,” he announced, and Dee sighed then nodded.
“Next statement,” Dee continued without acknowledging Charlie’s answer. “I prefer to do things the same way over and over again. Strongly agree, somewhat agree –”
“Uh, strongly,” Dennis cut her off, an obvious air present in his tone. “That’s how you perfect them. Routines are integral when you have such a strict system, as you all know I do. So, yeah, strongly. What kind of personality test is this? One for being awesome? Next.”
Dee tapped the screen of her cell phone and read the next statement. “I often notice small sounds when others do not.”
Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but Dennis quickly cut him off. “Uh, duh of course I do. I have the best hearing out of all of us so naturally, I pick up on –” His words were abruptly curtailed as he plugged his ears, a high pitched beeping noise suddenly ringing throughout the room. “What in God’s name is that?” he exclaimed, eyes narrowing when Frank waddled out of the office, eyes round behind his thick glasses.
“The microwave’s stuck again,” he announced, and plopped down on a bar stool.
“So shut it off!” Dennis snapped, grimacing because the goddamned noise seemed to grow more adamant even though it didn’t rise in volume.
“It won’t shut off,” Frank shrugged, and Dennis growled.
“Then unplug the damned thing!” he shrieked, startling when Mac reached across the bar and touched his arm.
“I’ll go get it,” Mac alerted him, and stood up, disappearing into the office. After a few seconds, the beeping stopped.
“Jesus Christ,” Dennis muttered, throwing Frank a dirty look before murmuring his thanks to Mac once he returned. It took a moment for him to calm, releasing a steady breath once he finally settled. “Next,” he waved a hand at Dee to proceed.
She eyed him skeptically, running her tongue across her teeth before she spoke again. “Other people frequently tell me that what I’ve said is impolite,” she emphasized the last word by saying it louder than the rest then completed the statement. “Even though I think it’s polite.”
“Uh, is that a trick question?” Dennis quipped, an oblivious smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. “I mean, sure, I guess some people may not like what I have to say, but the truth is the truth.”
Dee opened her mouth to go on, but Dennis quickly interrupted her.
“For instance, as Charlie mentioned earlier, we’re both confused about the clash of color between your hair and eyebrows. They should be the same, should they not?” He gestured towards his sister’s now very clearly annoyed face. “But had Charlie or myself not mentioned it, you wouldn’t have been aware of your misstep. Or, mistake, if you rather. So, yes, sis, I’ve been told that I’m impolite numerous times when I’m only trying to point out other people’s inconsistencies. Does that make me a bad person –”
“Jesus Christ, we get it!” Dee exclaimed, huffing out a breath as a bemused grin lit up Dennis’ face. “Goddamn,” she muttered, and tapped her screen. “I tend to notice details others do not.”
“All the time,” Dennis replied with a light chuckle. “I’m sure none of you picked up on the fact that Mac’s fly is undone, and that Frank has a slight but noticeable hole in the seat of his pants that he refuses to let Charlie sew up.”
“He’s right man. I’ve been begging you to let me take a look at those for months,” Charlie threw his hands up in the air. “And every time I go to sit down to stitch them up, you put them on. Why is that?”
Frank grunted out a noncommittal noise then shrugged. “I just like ‘em. They’re my favorite pair of pants. So what if there’s a little hole in the back? I like a little draft every now and then.”
“But you might get sick,” Charlie posed the possibility, and Frank shrugged again.
“I’m built like a tank. Nothing takes me down,” the older man bragged, and Dennis rolled his eyes.
“I would rather go to the library than a party.” Delight gleamed in Dee’s eyes as she read the sentence, the sentence that immediately caused Dennis to fall into silence.
Even though it had been over three decades, the word still made memories that he’d carefully built walls around crack and threaten to collapse. He didn’t respond until Dee repeated herself. “Party,” he murmured with much less enthusiasm than he had before. He started to tug at his ear, unable to halt the wave of unease that crashed over him.
“You sure about that?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly, thumb hovering above her screen, and Dennis granted her a single curt nod, a resounding pit opening up in the center of his chest that he tried desperately to ignore. “Okay. I find myself drawn more to people than to things.”
Dennis tried to focus, but echoes of the past kept whispering in his ears, leading him to shrug. “Strongly disagree,” he immediately answered, lips pursing when Mac cleared his throat next to him. “Slightly disagree,” he corrected, glancing at the man with a resigned expression before he turned back towards Dee.
“Uh huh,” she muttered under her breath, gaze darting from him to Mac then back to her phone. “When I talk, it isn’t always easy for others to get a word in edgewise.”
“I don’t even understand how that’s even a question. If I’m talking then you shouldn’t be, and sometimes I have a lot to say, so whose fault is that really?” he stated with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Strongly agree,” Dee mumbled, puckering her lips as she tapped her screen. “I am fascinated by numbers.”
Dennis’ brow lowered. “Who isn’t fascinated by numbers?” he questioned honestly, and everyone else in the room peered at each other before shaking their heads.
“I don’t really care about numbers unless I’m getting my pump on,” Mac answered, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
“Yeah, I don’t really care about numbers either,” Charlie admitted and took a sip of his beer. “I mean, seriously, what’s so great about them? Oh, wow, I can count!” he mocked, holding his hands up and waggling his fingers before glancing at the others and laughing at himself.
“Huh, weird,” Dee commented as she tapped the screen, and Dennis shook his head.
“How is that weird? I mean, is it weird that it takes precisely ten and a half beers to get Charlie tipsy? Or that Mac can bench exactly two-hundred and thirty pounds before his arms start to shake?” And gestured towards the muscle Mac was flexing with a grin.
“It’s true. It’s true,” he repeated giddily, and nodded at Dennis. “Exactly two-hundred and thirty pounds on the dot.”
“See, Dee, there’s absolutely nothing strange about the fact that I know you weigh 2.6 pounds more than you did last week even though you’ve been skipping lunch every day since then,” he boasted, forcing a cocky smile onto his face as he leaned against the bar.
“It does not upset me if my daily routine is disturbed,” Dee read the words from her screen, a tightlipped expression falling across her face.
“Well, no one likes being disturbed,” he argued, the smile faltering the more he thought about the statement. He would get downright livid if he couldn’t do his morning and nightly routines. What was the point of even waking up if he couldn’t splash a little cold water onto his pores first thing? And – And not being able to put on his anti-wrinkle multifaceted face cream before he went to sleep was just down right insane! Insane! “What?” he asked when everyone stared at him, confusion and disbelief written all over their faces.
“Not being able to use his anti-wrinkle cream is insane,” Dee spoke as she typed the words out onto her cell then tapped the screen again.
“What? It is!” Dennis defended, voice pitched high as his eyes widened, not having realized he had vocalized his inner thoughts until it was too late. “Taking care of your skin should be the most important thing that you do because even though it regenerates, it’s still not the same. If you don’t have enough collogen then you’ll have even more wrinkles form, and you know what? I don’t even know why I’m telling you people this because none of you are going to follow my tips anyway. I’ve already seen two new creases form on Dee’s forehead this morning alone.”
Dee blinked rapidly before pulling up the next one. “I know how to tell if someone listening to me is getting bored,” she read, sarcasm dripping thickly from her voice as she rested her cheek on her fist then stared at Dennis.
He shook his head at her. “Of course, I know if someone is getting bored when I speak, or I would. If they did. That’s the thing, Dee, when I speak, everyone listens,” he replied, lifting his hands up and moving them in an outward circle as he gestured at the rest of the gang. “So, sure, I would know, but it never happens,” he reaffirmed, a satisfied smile plastered on his face that fell the moment the others began to speak.
“Sorry, what?” Dee questioned, turning her head to face him, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“He was saying something about being boring,” Frank answered as he scratched the back of his head then put his fingernail between his teeth. “Did you switch my shampoo again?” he asked, peering over Dee to Charlie.
“No, dude, why would I do that?” Charlie countered, and Dennis felt himself growing annoyed at their display of ignorance.
“Were none of you listening to me?” he inquired, and Mac hurriedly swallowed the mouthful of beer he’d been drinking and raised his hand.
“I heard you, Den. You were talking about shampoo,” he replied with a wide grin, then shrank back the second Dennis scowled at him.
“No, I wasn’t! Frank was talking about shampoo after he stuck his goddamned filthy nail in his mouth so he could taste it!” Dennis erupted, flinging his hand in Frank’s direction. “Jesus Christ, am I the only person here with dignity?”
“Wait, can you not smell your shampoo?” Dee asked incredulously as she turned to face Frank, jaw hinging open with disbelief.
“I can smell it, but it tastes different than it smells,” Frank replied. “I dunno, but it doesn’t taste like usual.”
Groans fell from both Dee and Mac’s disgusted visages while Charlie nodded reassuringly at Frank.
“You know what? I bet I know what it is,” Charlie hypothesized as he wagged a finger. “I bet it’s the soap. The new laundry detergent? It probably didn’t sink in all the way and got on your head from your pillowcase.”
“That’s probably it,” Frank agreed, and spit out a peanut shell onto the counter.
Dennis snapped his fingers in Dee’s face, a look of offense causing his eyes to widen. “Uh hello, did you forget what you were doing?”
She backed away from his hand, then shook her head. “Actually, what were we doing?” she asked, then glanced down at her phone. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Uh, hold on, okay, I enjoy doing things spontaneously.”
“Spontaneous? Spontaneous? I don’t – what kind of question is that? I mean, sure, sometimes I’ll go to the Wawa on S. Delaware if I really have to, but I don’t know if I would call that – call that spontaneous…” His voice trailed off as he folded one arm across his chest and worried this thumb between his teeth.
“People often tell me that I keep going on about the same thing.” Dee stared at him expectantly, and Dennis felt his eye start to twitch.
“I don’t ramble, if that’s what you’re insinuating with that dumb look on your face. I think I’m very precise with my words, and it’s not my fault that what I say is hard for you to follow. Practically everyone here has ADHD, and don’t get me started on –”
“I find it difficult to imagine what it would be like to be someone else.” The gleam from earlier was back in Dee’s eyes, an imperceptible smile teasing at her lips.
“Why would I want to?” Dennis scoffed. “I have no need or want to waste brain power on daydreaming about what it would be like to be Charlie, or Frank for that matter. There’s just no reason for it. None,” he clarified with a shake of his head.
Dee tapped her screen one last time, then hummed, eyebrows lifting high into her forehead and making Dennis’ hand shake as he snatched her phone out of her hand. His brow furrowed as he ignored her shrill protests for stealing the mobile device as he stared at the webpage. His chest tightened when he read the words that stared back at him in bold black letters - HIGH SCORE FOR AUTISM TRAITS.
Autism?
He tossed her phone back onto the counter and turned around, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he attempted to block everyone out though to no avail. He leaned his elbow on the empty space near the spot where they kept empty mugs on the off chance someone wanted coffee, and slid his hand along his jaw.
He wasn’t autistic. That was ridiculous. He was perfectly normal in every way. No – No, he was superior in every single way. He thought faster than everyone else, he sensed things were going to happen before everyone else. He wasn’t – He wasn’t autistic. Please. So what if he enjoyed doing the same things the same way day after day? It was comforting to go home, drink tea, watch a show with Mac, then complete his skin care routine, and maybe cuddle afterwards. (His head on Mac’s chest except for Tuesdays and Thursdays; that was when they switched, those were Mac’s nights.) So what if he preferred to plan things out nowadays? What was wrong with that? There was nothing wrong with ensuring that everything went according to plan because plans needed to be followed. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be plans! They’d be messy, chaotic disasters! And Dennis Reynolds was anything but a messy chaotic disaster! He was calm, cool, and controlled goddammit –
“Den?” Mac’s voice drifted into his ears, and he jumped, immediately standing up straight and knocking his long-forgotten beer to the floor. He blinked rapidly, jaw clenching as he flexed his hands at his sides.
“What?” the single word came out quiet, barely audible, and Mac’s head tilted to the side as he studied him, worry filling his eyes. “What?” he repeated, this time a little louder though the knowing look Mac was granting him sent Dennis into a state of retreat. He turned back towards the shelves, brow lowering once more as his mind began to wander back to the stupid assessment result.
“You okay?” he asked, and Dennis shook his head then nodded.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, fidgeting with his ring finger as he looked anywhere but at Mac.
“You sure about that?” Mac tried again, and Dennis nodded, then pushed away from the counter.
He reached for a bottle of whiskey, a brand he didn’t usually drink and poured himself a glass. He hurriedly took a sip of it then grimaced, recalling exactly why he didn’t partake in the amber colored spirit on a usual basis.
“Autistic?” he heard Frank grunt out, and his head immediately shot in the older man’s direction, eyes wide as he peered down at Dee’s phone. “Yeah, I’d say that checks,” he confirmed with a nod then cracked another peanut shell open and popped the nut into his mouth.
“And just why the fuck would you say that, Frank?” Dennis seethed, voice growing shriller with each word. His heart was starting to beat a little too fast, but he ignored it, unable to focus on anything other than Frank’s answer.
“Because your whore of a mother and I had you tested when you were a kid. Just forgot about it,” he replied with a shrug, and took a sip of his Coors.
“Shit,” Mac muttered at his side, but Dennis didn’t hear it. His chest was starting to rise quicker with each breath, blood rushing through his ears as he glared at the short, stout man.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he shrieked, slamming his hands down in front of Frank on the bar though the older man didn’t flinch.
“What? I forgot about it, and obviously, you did too, otherwise, it wouldn’t have come as such a shock,” he replied with a dismissive wave and chomped on another nut.
Dennis sneered and shook his head. “No, no I’m not buying it. I don’t believe you. You’re full of shit,” he spat, and Frank scoffed.
“Oh, trust me, kid, I ain’t lying about that. You wouldn’t stop repeating shit that people said, and you kept flapping your hands around like a goddamned chicken. Hell, you'd have a fucking melt down if you couldn't find that goddamned elephant you always carried around with you. One of your mother’s friends saw you doing it, wouldn’t stop running her mouth about it, so your mother went nuts until we took you to a doctor,” Frank explained, and with each word, a searing, stabbing pain spread across his chest. “She meant it when she called you special,” Frank quipped, and Dennis felt tears spring to his eyes at the older man’s words.
“Fuck you, Frank,” Dennis managed to bite out before he became consumed with melancholia. Nausea roiled in his stomach, and the stupid smoothie he now wish he hadn’t consumed that morning was urgently making its way back up. He made it outside in front of the bar with less than a second to spare, immediately doubling over once his feet were on the pavement and wretched all over the sidewalk. A broken sob resonated from his chest the second he stopped dry heaving, and he nearly cried out in alarm when he felt a light touch on the small of his back. He quickly swiped at his eyes, a blurry, sullen-faced Mac peering back at him from his side. The urge to chastise him, or scold him or just outright scream in his face raced through his brain in an attempt at self-preservation, but the second their eyes met, something deep down in Dennis broke, and the false act of bravado he was preparing to slip into place cracked like a broken mirror, its pieces shattering to the ground as he gave into the pain and flung himself into the other man.
A surprised gasp of air parted Mac’s lips, but he immediately wrapped his arms around Dennis’ shoulder blades and pulled him close.
“I want to go home,” Dennis choked out, hiding his face from Mac and keeping it concealed in the crook of his neck.
“Okay, okay,” Mac soothed as he brushed his thumb along Dennis’ hairline at the nape of his neck. “We’ll go. I’ll drive,” he offered, and Dennis nodded but made no move to withdraw.
The illusion of perfection Dennis had spent years crafting had been rendered null and void in the matter of twenty fucking minutes all thanks to some stupid goddamned test meant for Charlie. For once in his fucking life, he wished he wouldn’t have cut in, would’ve just kept talking to Mac about the movie they were planning on watching that night. Instead, here he was, breaking down in his roommate's turned something far more intimate arms because a bomb had been dropped on him in the form of some forgotten diagnosis that labeled him as being something other than what he thought himself to be.
It took another ten minutes for Mac to corral him into the Rover and buckle him in. One minute, he was staring outside the passenger window, and the next, he was sitting on the couch, clad in loose sweats that he couldn’t recall changing into. A cup of tea sat in front of him on the coffee table, and Mac was by his side, scrolling on his phone until he looked up and met Dennis’ gaze.
“Hey,” he greeted him, voice soft like the cotton of the shirt Dennis was now wearing.
“Hey,” Dennis returned, blinking unsurely then accepting the mug when Mac placed it in his hands.
“It’s chamomile with a teaspoon of honey no sugar.” Mac tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied him.
“Thanks,” Dennis murmured, gaze dropping to the contents of his mug. He took a tiny sip followed by another, longer one. “It’s good,” he mumbled in that same low tone that bordered on emotionless. (He always sounded like that after he came back, broken and fucking hollow until Mac could fix him up again because he was unable to do it himself.)
Mac flashed him a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was clear that the other man was concerned about him, and for once, Dennis knew he had every right to be.
“I didn’t…” His voice trailed off, gaze darting back and forth between Mac and his mug. “I didn’t – you know,” he waved his hand around dismissively though his fingers still trembled like leaves caught in the wind.
Mac’s brow lowered and he shook his head. “No, no, you’ve been – you’ve been quiet.”
Dennis nodded in affirmation as he licked his lips then allowed his gaze to slowly creep upward until he met Mac’s. Every single part of him was shaking, as though he’d had too much caffeine and not enough to eat. He tried to summon the control that he claimed to excel at using, but no matter how many times he commanded his hand or his fingers or even his fucking legs to just stop, they continued to quake. A low whine escaped his throat when Mac gently laid his hand on top of his, gaze once again falling towards the floor.
“Den.” There was a questioning lilt to it that Dennis was able to discern, but it didn’t stop him from tugging at his ear and inhaling a sharp breath. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, teeth immediately chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Den, it’s okay,” Mac’s hand drifted upward and rested on his thin visage.
“No, it’s not.” Dennis shook his head, wincing at the tremor that wracked his words. “It’s really not.” A tiny, choked sob left his lips without his permission, shoulders tensing at his inability to prevent it. Mac gently pulled him into his arms, and Dennis resisted protesting. They were home, they were behind closed doors, they were safe. It was just him and Mac, no one to judge them, no outside interference, no other pairs of eyes watching him with scrutiny.
Mac’s fingers brushed lightly through his hair as he held him, the other hand sweeping up and down his back along his spine. “I’ve got you,” Mac murmured against his temple, and Dennis grasped his hoodie sleeves between his fingers.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Frank’s words, and as hard as he tried, not a single recollection of being tested came to mind. He had an excellent memory (because Dennis Reynolds didn’t forget something that was actually important to him), and yet, all he was able to draw was a blank. He had to have been pretty young when it happened, otherwise, he was sure he would remember it as Frank had mentioned.
(It was either that or he was so traumatized by the experience they he buried it away as he did with all the other memories he deemed horrible.)
“That fucking asshole,” he muttered, squeezing the soft gray cotton as he fought the urge to flap his hands. “I don’t look like a goddamned chicken. It just – It just calms me goddammit,” he defended, voice muffled by Mac’s skin. “It calms me,” he repeated in a tiny voice, shoulders sagging as he curled further into Mac.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Mac agreed, and in that very moment, Dennis’ big feelings decided to rear their ugly head. Hearing Mac speak those words struck a chord deep within him, causing him to cry harder because he was unable to express his gratitude to the other man. Knowing that Mac was on his side and wasn’t treating him as though he were a freak or an invalid caused emotion to well in his chest and escape in the form of muted sobs, hushed whimpers and more tears.
“You really don’t think any less of me?” Dennis questioned him, eyes widening when Mac pulled away and framed his face with his hands.
“No, Dennis, I don’t. You’re still you. Nothing about you has changed. You’re still the guy who knows how many crucifixes I own, bloody and clean and makes fun of me for having them; you’re still the guy who chastises me for drinking too many energy drinks; and you’re still the same guy whose comfortable enough to let me see him without makeup and without that act you put on for everyone else. You’re still you, Dennis, and nothing is going to change that. That’s what I love about you,” he added, goofy, sweet grin in place as he gazed into his eyes, and Dennis nodded, bottom lip trembling as he swiftly hid his face away in the crook of Mac’s neck again.
“Thanks, Mac,” the watery words vibrated from his lips, and he kept his face tucked away into the warmth of Mac’s skin until the first signs of dehydration settled in. He wiped his cheeks with his shirt sleeve as he slowly pulled away. One side of his mouth tipped upwards minutely when Mac offered him a tissue. He took it and blew his nose with it. “Stop using my system against me,” he muttered, and an airy chuckle met his ears.
“I’m not trying to D.E.N.N.I.S. you, Den. I just know how much you hate having a runny nose,” he said, and Dennis peered over at him, confusion swimming in his eyes.
“Why do you put up with me?” he asked with a sharp shake of his head, and Mac released a slow breath from his lungs as his head tilted to the side.
“Den –”
“No, why? I don’t – Help me understand. Why do you continuously put up with me? I know how I am, Mac.” And he did. He knew how rotten he could be at times, how rude and irritable. He knew how mean and cruel the things that he said were, and yet, nonetheless, Mac was always there for him as he was now, without a complaint, without a harsh reprimand. He was just there, willing and accepting, two things Dennis couldn’t be.
A scoff that held the smallest hint of exasperation skittered from Mac’s lips and then the lopsided grin fell back into place. “Is that really how you see it?” he asked, and for a split second, Dennis felt offense beginning to build until he realized there was no ill intent behind Mac’s words.
“Explain it to me then,” Dennis stated, and warmth wound its way into Mac’s eyes, drawing Dennis to peer into them.
“Explain to you how much I enjoy taking care of you?” Mac suggested, and Dennis’ chin dipped at the admission because he enjoyed it too, craved Mac’s attention any time it was diverted to something else. “Explain to you how much I love getting to sleep next to you every night, and wake up next to you every morning?”
Twin flares of heat surged across Dennis’ cheeks as Mac’s thumb brushed along his skin.
“Or maybe, you want me to explain how much I secretly love every time you get onto me about my dirty socks or how sweaty I am when I get back from the gym, but you still kiss me anyway. Or,” and Jesus Christ, Mac’s eyes were sparkling like goddamned chocolate diamonds in their round sockets, “Do you want me to explain just how much I act like it annoys me but I really love watching you pick out new makeup and how happy you get when you try something new and actually like it?”
“Stop,” Dennis half-heartedly scolded him, voice trembling again as fresh tears began to build in his eyes.
“All it really boils down to is that you think differently than everyone else, and there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s who you are and who you’ve always been. Nothing’s changed.”
There were times in the twenty plus years (and Dennis tried not to fixate on the fact that they accumulated to a total of twenty-five) they lived together where Dennis hadn’t really hated Mac, not truly, but he had been frustrated and annoyed by the man’s oblivious nature that it caused him to feel extreme contempt; but then, there were times, such as what Dennis was currently experiencing, that the emotion that swelled in his chest for him was so great, so vastly wonderful that it hurt. It hurt because it was in those moments that Dennis knew, he wouldn’t be able to go on without Mac. No matter what happened, Mac would always be there for him, and the day that ended?
Dennis would be destroyed, like an ancient city left to become one with the desert.
The thought caused him to lurch, for the second time that day, into the other man, hands tucked to his chest because he knew he needed to be held and the feeling of being enveloped in Mac’s arms was the only thing that could assuage him.
Mac gladly obliged, and pulled Dennis onto his lap to so Dennis would be more comfortable. He stayed quiet, the only sounds being his fingers gliding along the material of Dennis’ shirt.
An hour later, Dennis was still nestled in Mac’s arms though the tears had finally dried. “Are your legs numb yet?” he murmured, lips halfway pressed into Mac’s broad shoulder.
“No, I can still feel them. See,” Mac demonstrated as he bounced his knees, sending Dennis shifting up and down.
A small smile graced his lips and he slowly raised his head up. He stared at Mac, words hanging from his tongue that he was hesitant to speak. If he spoke them, it would make everything real and solidify his place in this world, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that. Not yet anyway.
“What? What is it?” Mac asked, brown eyes narrowing with concern as he splayed a hand across Dennis’ cheek.
Dennis ducked his head, closing his eyes and soaking in the warmth that emanated from the other man’s touch. “I…I…” Mac made it seem so easy when he said it, like it didn’t require him to dig into the lowest depths of his soul and accept that there was a light there that he held for him, that what he felt was for more than just himself.
Mac’s brows raised into his forehead as he brushed his thumb along Dennis’ cheek softly. “Den –”
“I love you.” The words rushed forth from his lips in a quiet hush, but sounded so loud in the quiet space. His heart pounded in his chest and he slowly cracked open his eyes.
“Oh.” Mac blinked, uncertainty crossing his brow as his gaze darted away before returning to Dennis.
“Oh?” Dennis repeated in a higher pitch, fear and rejection causing his eyes to widen.
A bright smile suddenly took up residence on Mac’s visage and he had the utter audacity to chuckle before he caressed Dennis’ cheek.
“What are you doing right now? I don’t understand,” Dennis questioned with a frantic note to his tone, gripping the sides of Mac’s collar as he studied his face.
“Basking in your love,” Mac replied simply, and all the air Dennis was sequestering in his lungs escaped as he sighed.
“You’re an idiot,” Dennis told him though there was a small smile slowly forming on his lips.
“Sometimes, but I’m your idiot and that’s all that matters.” Mac leaned forward and kissed him softly, and Dennis immediately melted into the gesture. After a few minutes, Mac pulled away. “You want to watch the movie we were talking about earlier?”
Dennis considered the thought and nodded.
“You want one of your salads? With the almonds, carrots, and tiny little pieces of purple cabbage with the light balsamic dressing?”
The smile started to grow as he nodded again, and the weight that had spent the evening making his shoulders heavy finally started to lift. “You know me so well,” he remarked, staring into Mac’s delighted eyes.
“You bet your sweet ass I do,” Mac joked as he raised his hand to smack Dennis’ ass, but the movement stopped in mid-air, Dennis’ words cutting him off.
“Don’t push it,” he warned, and Mac grinned sheepishly before he let his hand fall back to resting on Dennis’ back.
“One salad and a movie coming right up,” Mac grinned, shifting Dennis back to the couch cushion, but before he could stand up, Dennis wrapped his hand around his wrist. “Did you want another tea too?” Mac asked, and Dennis shook his head, brow lowering and face turning serious as he peered up at him.
He took a deep breath and licked his lips. “I need to tell you something.”
Mac’s brow furrowed with confusion as he scooted closer to Dennis. “What? What is it?” he inquired, worry dripping from his voice.
Dennis swallowed thickly, gaze falling before he carefully raised it. “You, uh, well, you’ve got something on your face.”
“I do?” Mac reached up, automatically wiping the area above his top lip, then his chin. “Did I get it?”
Dennis shook his head. “No, here, let me get it,” he offered, and Mac leaned forward expectantly, eyes wide as Dennis lifted his hand, placed it on his cheek. “It’s right there,” Dennis murmured, a grin flashing across his face before he leaned forward and kissed Mac. “There, I got it,” he stated, satisfied as he withdrew. “I’ll wait here while you get my –” His words were interrupted by Mac’s lips on his once more, and Dennis knew in that moment that Mac was right; nothing had changed, and that was the way he wanted to keep it.