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teagballs · 3 months

Note

I just read your Dennis fic, and if you were going to write a part 2 would you be able to make it that Dennis doesn’t immediately tell reader he likes her? He just starts acting really weird when she’s around?

Like maybe, Dennis Charlie and Mac are insulting Dee and reader says something like “that it’s not nice” then Dennis goes, “yeah that’s seriously not nice guys.” And everyone’s just confused cause like he was saying mean stuff too.

If it’s to much trouble or if you don’t wanna write this please just ignore this 🧍🧍

"like no one else" | dennis reynolds x reader

read part one here

authors note: ur mind anon UR MIND BROOO. this prompt was amazing and i had to do it but also it took me a month cuz i was busy. OOPS. i hope i did it justice cuz i took it and ran LMAO

requests open as always!! looking to do some charlie kelly stuff, so if u have any ideas for him lmk!!

cw: fem reader, mentions of objectification of women and the D.E.N.N.I.S system ofc, lil smoochie smoo at the end but nothing nsfw, 1.4k words

Dennis stumbled out of the restaurant, abandoning his date and this old life of promiscuity behind, seemingly. He walked down the street, pulling out his phone. He entered your name into his contacts, ready to confess everything. Ready to tell you how much you mean to him. Ready to love you. But then he stopped. His finger hovered over the call button and he thought, "what am I doing?" It was the emotion of the situation that made him act with such heedlessness. He didn't even know if you felt that way about him, if you felt the same deep connection he did. For him, it was a feeling like no other. It felt like you got him in a way no one else did. With understanding and kindness too. But to you? Dennis could just be a good friend to you. And if that was the case, what was the point in risking it all? He took a deep breath, shoving his phone back in his pocket. No, he shouldn't act so incautiously.

In the following weeks, Dennis found himself falling deeper and deeper for you. Every action you took, every word you spoke. He found himself obsessing over it. He tried not to come off as creepy - although that was hard, this was Dennis. His still kept his distance as usual, but now with a growing infatuation. He believed he was portraying this neutrality to you well, but this facade was challenged today.

"Y'know what guys, I'm really excited for this date tonight," Dee began to explain as she sat at the bar with Dennis, Charlie, Mac, and you.

"Oh shut up, Dee, nobody cares about your stupid date," Mac barked. Degrading her as usual.

It was water off a duck's back for dee, "You're just jealous I have a date Mac." She rhymed off before taking another swig of her beer.

"How'd you get this one to go out with you, Dee?" Charlie began in defence of Mac, "What'd you do? Steal his dog?"

"What? God no, what the fuck are you talking about?" Dee said.

Dennis didn't involve himself in verbally bullying his sister as he usually would. Usually, he would come in with the worst, most grating jabs. Instead, he silently observed how you scrolled on your phone, occasionally taking a sip of your drink, noticing how your brows furrowed ever so slightly in frustration.

"Even if you do go on this date, Dee, the only way you'll get him to stay is if you steal his phone or something!" Mac snarled.

"Yeah, you stupid bird!" Charlie said, which resulted in loud laughter from the men.

"God, would you just leave her alone, you two? Do you have nothing better to do?" You snapped at them finally. Dennis noticed your frustration and wanting to support and comfort you, he responded;

"Yeah, guys, leave her alone. You're both so sad." Dennis said in his usual 'I'm not wrong about anything ever and you're stupid for being wrong' tone.

Silence. Everyone, including you, turns to face Dennis. Did he just defend Dee? The sister he swore he hated?

"Dennis, what did you just say?" Mac asked cautiously and filled with confusion.

"I said leave Dee alone."

Dennis didn't really care all that much about Dee. Really, all her cared about was proving to you he did. He wanted to be on your side, always. To have your approval.

"Thank you, Dennis," you agreed. Dennis's heart swelled. 'God, what's wrong with me?' he thought. He had never felt this many emotions ever. Never mind for one person.

"That was weird, right? Earlier? When Dennis, like, stood up for Dee?" Charlie asked Mac.

"Oh yeah! For sure! I have no clue why he did that. I mean, just yesterday me, you, Frank, and Dennis were ragging on her for being a failed actress." Mac replied, causing laughter between the pair at the thought of this previous discussion.

"So... what changed?" Charlie puzzled.

"Everyone was there, except.. except for her." Mac hypothesised that when you were there, Dennis avoided talking poorly of Dee.

"But why? What does she change?"

Mac shrugged, "Maybe he's trying to D.E.N.N.I.S her."

"Huh. Doesn't really seem like his usual type." Charlie said.

Dennis was definitely not trying to D.E.N.N.I.S you. He made that distinctly clear in his mind. He wasn't following the steps at all, going out of his way to avoid flirtation with you, actually, to avoid raising suspicions. And the final step, 'separate entirely,' was most certainly one he didn’t want to follow. He wanted to spend forever and ever with you. Why? He didn't understand it himself. He was Dennis Reynolds, the Golden God! How come he was acting so pathetic?

You were starting to notice his weird behaviour. You had known Dennis for years. He was never this.. clingy? Not that you minded, really. You had always thought he was attractive, sure - charismatic too - but his general objectification of woman and lack of interest in a stable and long-term relationship certainly deterred you. Still, though, you couldn't help but feel your heart shatter every time he would talk about the girl he was planning to go out with next. You had grown tougher over the years of knowing him, accepting that he would never change, and he would never see you like that. This new attention from his was definitely appreciated, but strange.

This all came to head a couple of weeks into this behaviour. You and Dennis sat in the bar together on a slow Tuesday. You had been testing him slightly. You were saying things to provoke him - small things. Things that would usually lead to a disagreement or argument or him going on a long Dennis rant. But he didn't budge. He didn’t roar obscenities or call you an idiot or react negatively at all. He would just nod and smile. And then he would agree. You couldn't take it. Was it some cruel joke? To get your hopes up or make you look stupid? You didn't get the punchline.

"Alright, Dennis, what's with you lately."

Dennis freezes. He feared you had picked up on his feelings towards you. He feared this would be the end of it all, and he had ruined it, and you would leave and he would never see you again.

"What do you mean?" Dennis replied. He was lucky he was such a good liar. He played coy well. But you didn't back down.

"You've been acting weird. You just agree with everything I say, and you're hanging around me a lot and like you keep not making fun of Dee when I'm here. You're always looking at me too. Is it some sort of joke I don't get? Are you making fun of me? That's mean."

Dennis felt emotions, oh god. He located that he felt regret and frustration and guilt and guilt and guilt. 'Mean'. He wasn't trying to be mean. She thought it was some sort of joke, but no. This was how he really felt. He really wanted to spend all his time admiring you, he wanted to agree with you on everything, that's all he could think about for the past month. And for once in his life, Dennis was at sea for words.

"I... I didn't..." Dennis attempted. But he couldn't convey his words in a safe manner. In a manner that meant if you didn't feel the same way it would be okay and you could keep being friends.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dennis sighed.

"It was after that date. With that chick. What was her name? Candy? Karen? Doesn't matter." Dennis rambled. "It was then when I realised I never want to be with anyone else, if not you. I don't think anyone had ever understood me the way you have. And I just spiralled after then? I haven't stopped thinking about you." That would be a creepy comment if it wasn't something you had always wanted to hear from him.

It was your turn to be speechless. Instead of saying anything your eyes scanned his face for any indication of falsehood. Nothing. You saw and expression on Dennis's face that you had never seen before. One that could be equated to not knowing the answer. Clueless. Maybe afraid? You open your mouth to speak again but Dennis cuts you off and speaks first. Like he's trying to drown out a negative response. Like covering your ears to block out the sound of a gunshot; the damage would still be done.

Dennis looked at you, waiting for the gunshot.

"Dennis.. I feel the same way. Of course I do, oh my God." You finally say. Your voice is small and hoarse, like you have never used it before. Quickly, before anyone can say anything else, Dennis envelops you in a kiss. A kiss that isn't filled with lust, something Dennis isn't used to. His lips lean into yours in a desperate attempt to convey his gratefulness and love and devotion to you. You grip at his sides. You understand.

#x reader #iasip x reader #its always sunny in philidelphia x reader #dennis reynolds x reader #dennis reynolds #fanfic

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years

Text

A Wonderful Surprise

A/N #1: This is fic #2 of the Brazil series. It was inpired by the ! prompt of the 30 days OTP alphabet challenge as well as Prompt #2 of Fictober 2020 by @hphm-fictober . You can find Alice’s outfit HERE, and the suggested music HERE. (Here are Part 1 & Part 2 of the first fic of the series.)

“Alanza told me she would join us here.”

Alice and her friends were standing near the bronze statue of Floriano Peixoto, the second Brazilian president, in the neighbourhood known as Cinelândia. They were surrounded by buildings built in the Beaux-Arts architectural style, which gave the area a certain European cachet with their columns, symmetry, and highly decorative façades.

“Are you sure about the time?” asked Diego.

“Noon seems like an odd time to meet up,” said Penny, who was wearing a large sunhat.

“That’s what she told me. She said she knew of this place where we could eat lunch close to here, and that it would be simpler to visit the area after,” explained Alice, fanning herself with her map of Rio.

“Olá!” they heard from behind them.

“Alanza!” they exclaimed, running to her.

“How are you? I hope you didn’t wait too long,” she said beaming.

“No, not at all,” said Barnaby, blushing.

“Long enough for us to overheat,” mumbled Tonks and Tulip.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Come, come. Let’s go and eat. I know this boteco that’s been around since 1921.”

“What kind of food do they serve?” asked Alice.

“Various stuff. You can get pizza, fish, churrasco, feijoada…”

“What are the last two things?” asked Penny.

“Well, churrasco is basically meat barbecued on skewers, while feijoada has black beans, some pork or beef product, and at least two types of smoked sausage and jerked beef,” explained Alanza.

“Black beans, you say?” said Alice. “Well, as I do not want to spend the afternoon passing wind, and that I don’t want to eat something too heavy, I think I’ll stick to pizza.”

“The meat on skewers sounds great,” said Barnaby as they sat at a table under the yellow awning.

After a hearty meal, they headed to the Theatro Municipal, a theatre that borrowed from the Parisian Opéra Garnier’s architectural style. The roof was a vibrant shade of turquoise, and the central dome was adorned with a majestic golden eagle.

“Can we go inside?” asked Andre, using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun.

“Unfortunately, no. We can only go in to see a performance or if we are part of a tour, which were all full when I checked,” replied Alanza.

“Too bad. It looks really nice from the outside, would have loved to see the inside,” said Alice.

“Oh, I doubt it compares to the Paris Opera,” said Alanza.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been inside the Opéra Garnier.”

“What? But don’t you have family in Paris?” asked Tulip.

“I do, but it’s not like the law mandates us to go inside the Opera every time we’re in town. I walked past it when I’ve been to the Galeries as a kid, but until last summer, I hadn’t been to Paris after Jacob’s disappearance.”

“I wonder if this one has a ghost, like the one in Paris,” said Penny.

“A ghost?” asked Barnaby and Charlie as they started to walk past the theatre.

“A phantom, actually. This French author wrote a story at the beginning of the century about a Phantom haunting the Opéra. It turns out that the Phantom is a deformed man named Erik. An excellent musical was made based on this story. I honestly could listen to the soundtrack over and over again,” said Alice, softly sighing.

“So, where are we heading next?” asked Tonks as they strolled through Largo da Carioca.

“Igreja São Francisco de Penitência. It’s a church. The interior is really impressive,” said Alanza.

“Where is it?” asked Diego.

“Right there,” replied Alanza, pointing to a building up a small hill.

“Doesn’t look super impressive from the outside,” said Andre.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Andre,” said Alice, nudging her friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart, everyone judges books by their cover. Why do you think I put so much importance in my outfits, as well as yours?”

“Believe me, the exterior doesn’t do justice to the interior,” said their Carioca friend as they made their way up the stairs to reach the church.

When they finally made it inside the church, they were greeted by exquisite gilded carvings on the walls and altars, as well as magnificent paintings on the ceiling depicting the glorification of Saint Francis in a Baroque illusionist style.

“Wow,” simply said Andre, his mouth ajar.

“So much gold,” said Tulip.

“Good thing we didn’t bring Jae. He’d be salivating,” said Tonks.

“He’d probably try to take something to sell it,” said Penny as she removed her hat.

“Come on. He’s not that bad,” said Alice as she looked at the ceiling.

“Are you so sure of that?” asked Charlie, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Alice.

“Well… Ok, maybe not, but he mostly deals in magical contraband, so I don’t think he would see anything here worth selling,” admitted Alice.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to still try and make a quick buck from something here,” whispered Diego.

“Is it common for Muggle churches to be covered in gold?” asked Barnaby.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a Catholic church with so much gold. Russian Orthodox churches have their fair share, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this amount of gold in a church,” said Alice, looking around.

“How do you know so much about churches?” asked Diego.

“I’ve seen some when I travelled with my parents when I was a kid. Even if you aren’t religious, churches can be of cultural interest, as artists were often commissioned to paint and decorate them to show how grand and powerful the Church was,” explained Alice.

“And if you didn’t already know, Alice is in Ravenclaw,” said Tonks, Alice sticking out her tongue at her.

“Hey, where did Charlie go?” asked Andre.

“He’s right…” started saying Alice as she looked beside her, only to see no one was standing there. She turned on herself trying to spot her boyfriend, to no avail.

“Hum, I think he went outside,” said Diego. “He found it stuffy in here.”

“Why didn’t he tell me? I should go with him,” said Alice.

Before she could turn around, Diego wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her further inside the church. “Come on; I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to miss all the art in here.”

Alice gave Diego a suspicious look, furrowing her brows, before glancing behind her. She figured that if Charlie had wanted her to be with him, he would have told her. She shook Diego’s arms off of her shoulders and joined the girls at the altar, where Tulip was busy imagining Dennis getting married to the love of his life. Once they were done visiting the church, they went back outside, where Charlie was waiting for them in the shade.

“Are you ok?” asked Alice as she ran up to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Diego told us you went out because you felt it was stuffy in the church…”

“Oh! Yeah, I just needed some air, but I’m perfectly fine now.”

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better, mate,” said Andre as they made their way down the stairs.

“Ok, next up is a sweet treat: pastéis de nata. And it will give us the chance to relax a bit and step away from the heat,” said Alanza.

“Hum, actually, you guys can go ahead. We’ll join you later. There’s something I want to show Alice,” said Charlie, taking Alice’s hand.

She looked up at him, her cheeks turning pink.

“Ok, you two have fun!” said Diego as he guided the rest of the group away from the couple.

“We’ll be at the Confeitaria Colombo!” shouted Alanza as Alice and Charlie walked away.

They left the street they were on, taking a narrow road to lead them to the larger Rua Sete de Setembro.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Alice as she let Charlie lead the way.

“You’ll see,” simply replied Charlie.

“Is it what you and Diego were talking about yesterday?” asked Alice.

Charlie stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Diego was looking for you yesterday before lunch, and he went straight to talk to you when I told him where you were. Also, you two looked like you were cooking up some plan last night at dinner,” said Alice as they started walking again.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” replied Charlie, avoiding Alice’s gaze.

“Ah! I knew it! You were planning something with Diego!” said Alice as they turned into a small deserted street next to an old theatre. “Seriously, where are you taking me?” she said, looking worriedly around.

They crossed a plaza and stopped in front of a building built in limestone that looked like a church. Four statues were on the façade: one on each side of the building, and the other two were on each side of the door. Before she had time to read what was written at the top of the building, Charlie took both of her hands and made her look at him.

“Close your eyes,” he said, smiling.

Alice looked at him, skeptically.

“Please,” he pleaded.

She furrowed her brows, smiling lightly as she closed her eyes after removing her sunglasses. He waved a hand in front of her closed eyes to make sure she wasn’t looking. He gently took her hand and guided her inside the building.

“You can open your eyes now,” said Charlie as he stood behind her.

Alice opened her eyes and what she saw rendered her speechless. Three floors of walls covered in books. A magnificent chandelier dangled from the ceiling, which also had a skylight in iron structure. The intricate details of the wooden frame of the library’s galleries were sublime. Alice felt like she was in a dream. Sure, Hogwarts’ library was big, but it was dark, a little gloomy, and unwelcoming; Madam Pince having a lot to do with that last impression. This library was luminous. The blue walls contrasting with the wood’s darkness and the touches of gold on the wood contributed to Alice’s warm feeling as she stood in this great library.

“Oh, Charlie,” whispered Alice, turning around, the skirt of her dress twirling as she did so.

“You like it?” asked Charlie as Alice wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Like it? I love it!” she said before kissing him on the lips, her straw hat falling backward.

Charlie placed his hands on her waist, closing his eyes as he leaned into the kiss until he realized something. He opened his eyes and cleared his throat.

“What?” asked Alice as she took a step back.

“Hum… there are people around…” whispered Charlie, looking around the room.

Alice turned her head, noticing some people looking at them as her face grew hot.

“Sorry,” she mouthed before looking back at Charlie. “Let’s take a look around,” she whispered as she grabbed her hat from the floor.

They walked around the bookcases on the ground floor, looking at all the old books’ spines. They didn’t dare touch any, as they felt the gaze of the librarian on their back.

“I guess every library comes with a Madam Pince,” whispered Alice.

“I guess kissing in a library won’t get you on the librarian’s good books,” said Charlie, looking behind him. “Anyway, it’s not like we can read anything here. Everything seems to be in Portuguese. We should go back to the others… Alice! What are you doing?”

Alice held a book in her hand while holding her wand over a page with the other. “Shhh, be quiet. It’s just this book had ‘Contos de fadas brasileiros’ written on it.”

“But it’s in Portuguese! And your wand…”

“I need it to use a translation spell Rowan taught me.”

“Taught you? When?”

“Well, she didn’t actually teach it to me in person. I just found it on a note in a book she read,” explained Alice as she read the page her wand was hovering over.

“Quick,” said Charlie, as he looked behind them, “the librarian is coming.”

Alice closed the book and promptly replaced it on the shelf as she surreptitiously slid her wand back into her crossbody handbag. “Obrigada,” said Alice, turning to face the librarian with a sweet smile, her angelic face seemingly calming any worries the librarian had as the couple swiftly left the library.

“That was a close call,” said Charlie once they were outside. “Anyway, what did you say to the librarian?”

“I simply said ‘thank you.’”

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite and one of the few things I can say in Portuguese,” explained Alice as they made their way back to the Rua Sete de Setembro. “Figured something polite, and my sweet face would get her off our backs.”

They leisurely made their way to the Confeitaria Colombo, holding hands and talking about their vacation so far. As they approached it, they saw their friends leaving the restaurant.

“Here are the two lovebirds!” exclaimed Tulip.

“We got some custard tarts to go when we figured you wouldn’t be back in time,” said Penny, holding up a small plastic bag.

“They were delicious!” said Barnaby, rubbing his stomach as he smiled.

“Mate, you have some coloured lip balm on your lips,” pointed out Andre, smirking.

“So I guess Alice liked her surprise,” said Diego, grinning.

Charlie used the back of his hand to wipe off the lip balm as he and Alice blushed.

“Wait, did you two abandon us just to make out somewhere?” asked Tonks.

“What? No! We visited a library!” exclaimed Alice.

“A library? Why would you visit a library instead of eating custard tarts? Are you trying to cover up for the fact that you did spend all that time making out?” asked Tulip, her face inches from Alice’s as she looked at her suspiciously.

“No, they did go to a library: The Real Gabinete Português de Leitura, or Royal Portuguese Reading Room,” explained Diego, making Alanza wince at his Portuguese pronunciation. “The two Argentinian girls I spoke to yesterday said it was a really nice place to see, so I told Charlie he should take Alice there.”

“Wait, when you left the church…” started saying Alanza.

“I went to locate the library, make sure I had the right directions,” completed Charlie.

“Aw, all that for Alice… Makes me sick,” said Tonks, sticking out her tongue in fake disgust.

“Jealous,” said Alice, lightly nudging her friend.

“You wish,” replied Tonks, linking her arm with her friend’s. “Now, come on. We’re supposed to go see a royal palace.”

“Actually, it is the Imperial Palace,” explained Alanza as they made their way down the street. “It became the prince regent of Portugal’s residence when he moved here with his family to escape Napoleon’s invasion of Portugal. It is at that time that Rio became the royal seat of power.”

“Bloody French,” said Tonks, smirking as she glanced at Alice.

“He wasn’t French, he was Corsican, and his ancestors were Italian,” said Alice.

“But he was the emperor of France, no?”

“For, like, ten years.”

“His army was French?”

“Yes…”

“Therefore, I reiterate what I said: Bloody French,” said Tonks, sticking out her tongue.

“Stop bickering, you two,” said Andre. “As long as I get to see a palace, I’m happy.”

“We are not bickering. We are having a friendly conversation,” said Tonks and Alice in unison, making Alanza raise her eyebrows and look around in confusion.

“Don’t ask. That’s how they are,” explained Penny to Alanza, rolling her eyes.

When they finally arrived at the Imperial Palace, what stood in front of them was a white three-storey building in a simple baroque style with a tiled roof.

“That’s it?” asked Tulip.

“Well, it has its charms,” said Alice.

“There are some details around the windows,” said Penny.

“It is not what Europeans think of when they hear ‘Imperial Palace,’” pointed out Alanza.

“Thank Merlin, you see it too! I mean, it’s lovely, sure, but it’s no Versaille or Buckingham. Please tell me it’s like that golden church, and the interior is grand,” said Andre with pleading eyes.

“Unfortunately, no. It was stripped at the end of the 19th century and became a central mail office. It mostly serves as a cultural center nowadays, with temporary art exhibitions.”

“Then why is it called the Imperial Palace?” asked Barnaby.

“Because when Brasil became independent, it became the Império do Brasil, or Empire of Brasil,” explained Alanza. “When it was the Portuguese royal family’s residence, it was known as the Royal Palace. Before that, it was the house of the Governor.”

“How come you know so much?” asked Tulip.

“She’s from around here,” said Diego.

“Alice, you live in London. Do you know who first lived in Buckingham Palace?”

“Hum, no?”

“See! I live in London as well, and I don’t know the history of any buildings, except the Tower of London because executions,” pointed out Tulip.

“Alright, when Alice told me you wanted to visit the historic part of Centro, I may have studied up on my Trouxa history. The map I have with me is full of my notes,” she said, showing the scribbles on her map.

“Trouxa?” asked Barnaby.

“People who can’t do magic.”

“Ah! We call them Muggles,” said Charlie.

“So, as much as standing in the sun learning about cultural differences is fun, what is next?” asked Penny.

“Well, that’s pretty much it. Next up for you is to head back to the hotel to relax, so you are ready for tomorrow’s hike,” said Alanza.

“Hike?!” said Alice and Penny.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any outfits that are intended for nature,” said Andre.

“I was actually planning to go to the National History Museum tomorrow, since it’s free on Sundays,” said Alice.

“Says the rich girl,” said Tonks.

“Rich people are notoriously cheap,” replied Alice.

“But I don’t want to go to a stuffy museum,” complained Tulip.

“We can separate for the day. You guys can go hike in nature, while Penny, Andre, and I go to the museum.”

“Will there be dragons on that hike?” asked Charlie.

“Charlie. Always asking the important questions,” said Diego.

“Hum, no, sorry,” replied Alanza.

“Meh, then I’ll go to the museum with Alice.”

“Are you sure? There won’t be any dragons in the museum either,” said Alice.

“No, but you’ll be there,” replied Charlie, making Alice blush.

“Ok! I think this is our cue to head back to the hotel before those two start snogging in front of the palace,” said Tulip as she ran towards the street to hail two cabs.

“Well, see you tomorrow then! Tchau!” said Alanza waiving to the group as they joined Tulip.

A/N #2: Hope you enjoyed it! Next up: the museum, where I will describe every single exhibit they see... Joking. Anyway, just wanted to let you know something regarding the Imperial Palace. So, in the fic, Alanza said they interior is rather ordinary, it’s mostly based on pictures of the interior. According to Culture Trip, “in 1980 it was restored to its former glory with the interior replicated to how it was in the 19th century.” Unfortunately couldn’t find any information regarding the current state of the interior.

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emberphantom · 4 years

Note

Concept: Mac isn’t really in love with Dennis. He’s been faking the entire time as part of a bet/experiment as to whether or not he can make Dennis fall in love with him. As soon as Dennis confesses his feelings, the experiment will end and he’ll be debriefed. (Alternatively, everyone Dennis hasn’t known since school is actually an actor playing characters written by Dee and it’s all a Truman show situation to see how far they can push Dennis.)

I...wow. I totally think either scenario would COMPLETELY break Dennis. Dude is hanging by a very loose thread at all times to begin with but finding out most of everything in his life has been a complete lie? He'd snap. I mean look what happened in Broke Dee. That wasn't even supposed to be a prank on him and it fucked him up.

Okay and let's talk about the first one because that's super fucked up but I'm kinda living for it? It's definitely a role reversal for Mac and Dennis. Tbh I cannot see current Mac doing something like this but young Mac (s1-5), I'd buy it.

BUT there’s also no way Mac doesn’t fall in love with Dennis in the process and then feel guilty about the whole thing only to call it off once things get Too Real.

And whoops my hand slipped and I wrote another mini fic:

Him and Dee made the bet in high school because they thought it would be funny and Mac is all "Have you seen me? I could make any one fall in love with me." And Dee's all "Prove it."

Charlie doesn't know the full extent of it because I think he'd probably let it slip to Dennis.

So because of that, Mac has so be kind of subtle about it around the Gang. He turns it up a few notches when they're alone though. It takes forever. Like years. Because Dennis is stubborn and on a good day, has one (1) feeling.

Dennis graduates college, they get an apartment together. They buy the bar. Dee's wondering what the fuck is taking so long and Mac insists this is all part of his plan.

The Gay Bar Scheme sets Mac's progress back a bit, and he swears Dee did it on purpose to try to mess everything up. Stupid bitch.

It takes a while for Mac to get back on track. Dennis and Dee’s dad shows up one day out of the blue and actually sticks around. Mac starts banging Carmen. He sleeps with Dennis and and Dee’s mom which, he really thought would help move things along. It...did not.

The turning point Mac needs comes in the most insane and unexpected way. They get held hostage by the McPoyle’s in their own goddamn bar. It’s absolutely batshit.

There’s a real moment there where Mac thinks they’re not going to make it out alive. Mac tells Dennis he loves him, which Dee will argue later is against the rules of the bet, like watching Dennis’s sex tapes. Mac will tell her that there are no rules, that’s strictly for research purposes. He won’t tell her that, in that moment, he’d completely forgotten about the bet.

Dennis never mentions it. Hell, he barely even acknowledged it when it happened. Mac starts to think God is punishing him for everything. He knows it’s wrong and kind of gay but..it’s a joke. And Mac’s pretty sure God can take a joke. He plans on explaining the whole thing to him when he gets up there anyway. He’s sure they’ll laugh about it.

But Mac starts to notice something that makes him think God does have a sense of humor after all: Dennis starts touching him. Like. A lot. Like, more than he’s pretty sure he ever has.

They’ve always been inseparable but now it feels...different. They hang out all the time and when they’re not physically together, they can’t go even an hour without texting one another.

Mac starts to realize his evil plan is finally working.

He sits back and let’s Dennis take the lead. Mac’s planted the seed and now he’s got to just wait for the flower to grow.

He pretends not to notice when Dennis starts inching closer to him on the couch during movie night. He lets Dennis pretend to fall asleep on his shoulder.

During Charlie’s musical, Mac starts to lay things on a little thicker. He acts like he doesn’t realize how this is all coming off--like it’s all just him playing the character. (The boner he popped on stage is irrelevant. His body was also in character.)

Mac realizes he wants to kiss Dennis in the middle of a strangers living room in a house they’re trying to flip for a profit. Well--no wait. It’s Dennis who wants to kiss him, obviously. There’s no other explanation for it. You don’t just cup someone’s face like that, call them ‘baby boy’ like that if you don’t want to play tonsil hockey.

They pretend to be a couple. “Partners in Real Estate and Partners in life.” “He’s my bottom.” Dennis won’t take his hands off him. Mac’s got him right where he wants him.

That night, Dennis kisses him.

(It’s about goddamn time.)

Mac doesn’t tell Dee. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet. He wins the bet when the words “I love you,” un-ironically come out of Dennis’s mouth.

It’s surprising how much doesn’t change between them. Aside from where Mac sleeps, it’s really not that different. He’s just getting laid more and it...it’s fucking great. Mac thinks it’s probably because of all that adrenaline he gets knowing he’s winning the bet.

Everything’s going great until Dee finally catches on.

It’s a Tuesday. They just wanted a bowl for popcorn. They didn’t need Dee to stick her giant nose all up in their business.

“It's funny 'cause I feel like you guys are two codependent losers who are so wrapped up in each other that it's hard for you to see how pathetic your lives are. It's like you're an old married couple.”

They laugh at it. But, Mac can see the wheels turning in Dennis’s head.

Dennis takes too long at the video store and that’s when shit hits the fan. Yeah Mac panicked but that’s only because he really REALLY wants to win this bet. And he can’t do that if Dennis is fucking some video store twink.

They argue. Dennis wants to be left alone. Mac wants to know where this is coming from (he knows but he wants to hear Dennis say it.)

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what Dee said and I do think maybe we are spending a little bit too much time together.”

Son of a bitch.

Mac leaves and Dennis let’s him go. On the way to Charlie’s, Mac calls Dee and tells her that’s cheating--she’s not allowed to interfere in the bet. They had a deal. She tells him she can do whatever the fuck she wants then hangs up because something about her stupid cat. Mac stopped listening.

He’s at Charlie’s for a few hours when Dennis calls. He’s a Dee’s apparently and Mac’s heart sinks. She’s going to fuck everything up beyond repair. There’s no way he’s going to win the bet now...not because he actually really misses Dennis.

Mac’s resigned himself to the fact it’s over. The bet, his relationship with Dennis. It’s done. Bye. See ya. But then Dee calls him, and she sounds pissed off and stressed the fuck out. She tell him to be at this restaurant at this time for a “date with a beautiful woman with giant breasts”. Well, Mac thinks, at least she knows how to apologize.

He gets there early and sits down at the table by himself. He’s nervous, which is unlike him. He’s a badass, he never gets nervous. Mac tells himself it’s because he’s meeting a really hot chick, not because he’s not sure if he’s ready for this thing with Dennis to be over. He orders a rum and coke. Then another. Because alcohol solves everything.

Dennis walks in with Dee and Mac has never been so close to committing murder. What the fuck is she trying to pull?

Mac doesn’t have time to ask. She leaves in a hurry, muttering something about getting a bird.

“She looks like a bird.”

And...fuck. Mac missed Dennis so much.

They make-up and make-out on the way home. They invite Charlie and Frank over to watch a movie and once the Grusome Twosome leaves and they’re finally alone again.

It’s dark, it’s late and it’s quiet. Dennis joins Mac on the couch after he’s tossed some beer bottle into recycling. He’s looking at him like he’s seeing Mac for the first time and Mac feels his throat tighten.

Dennis starts talking, and Mac starts to panic. He thought he’d be able to see this moment coming a mile away but he’s not prepared for this. Dennis is telling him how sorry he is for everything. How he let Dee get into his head. How stupid it was.

How he realized the reason why he panicked so much was “Because I think I’m in l-”

“Dennis.” Mac cuts him off as everything comes crashing down on him all at once. His heart’s pounding in his chest, ready to burst through his chest at any moment.

He should’ve called this off when he had the chance. Dee definitely gave him a few outs over the years but he said No. When he made that stupid bet all those years ago, so young and so high, he never thought it would end up like this.

Mac didn’t think he’d be the one to end up falling in love with his best friend.

But, if he let’s Dennis say it, then what? They become a real couple? They tell the Gang so Dee can lay everything all out on the table. Tell Dennis that everything was just a big joke--even though it stopped being one for Mac longer than he cared to admit. Mac could deny his part in the whole thing, but Dennis would believe him.

So Mac has to let him off the hook now, by crushing his best friend’s heart into dust.

“I think Dee was right,” Mac says finally. He can’t even look Dennis in the eye. “I can’t--I don’t think we should do this anymore...”

To drive the final nail into the coffin, he adds, “Plus, y’know I’m not even gay.”

Dennis doesn’t say anything for a long time. Mac shrugs and tells him “Sorry.” Then he gets up and goes to his room, shutting the door behind him.

He calls Dee to tell him the bet’s off. To his surprise, she let’s him off the hook. Tells him it was about time he admitted defeat after all these years. Mac calls her a bird and hangs up. That night he goes to sleep alone.

The next day at the bar, Dennis unveils the D.E.N.N.I.S. System. It’s a low blow, but Mac deserves it.

They don’t check in much anymore. On movie night, the stick to their corners of the couch. Dennis marries Maureen Ponderosa and Mac thinks that means he’s off the hook.

Until they’re wasted and dancing and giggling back in their apartment and it feels like old times except Dennis’s wife is there. And he turns but then says to Mac, “I don’t love you Maureen. I...I never loved you.”

And Mac thanks God he called off the bet.

#sunny asks #oh hey did i write another minific? yes i did #macdennis

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missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 3 Part 7- Keeper of the Keys

Hey, guys. I'm sorry this update took so long. Shit has been well...weird. Hard to explain. However, rest assured I am not abandoning this pic, not by a long shot. Updates just won't be consistently regular as a warning to all my readers. To make up for some lost time, this is a longer chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

To say that Tulip Karasu was eccentric was an understatement. Nevertheless, David had no choice but to play ball for now if he wanted any of the information he sought. He was a bit apprehensive sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, but luckily Andre’s assertion proved to be correct. No one desired to sit near her and therefore they could spend the meal alone and in peace.

Stuffing Dennis into her shirt pocket, the Ravenclaw began to serve herself and cut up her chicken into several tiny pieces before eating. The young Gryffindor was hungry, but he preferred to focus on the matter at hand. Something about this girl was oddly fascinating. He also had many questions to ask.

“So how exactly did you stumble across my brother’s room and how was I not aware of that? Furthermore, since when are multiple people looking for the vaults?”

“One question at a time,” Tulip countered with a smile. “I still need to know why I should work with you, David Grant.”

The use of his full name was another idiosyncratic habit she seemed to demonstrate. That being said, it couldn’t hurt to give her a pitch. Especially since it sounded like she had been working with another person, possibly more than one in searching for the vault. From the looks of it, their progress was better than his in finding the latest one.

“I don’t usually play this card but...I’m the best chance you have at getting inside of a vault. I’m one of the strongest duelists in our year and I’ve broken one curse already.”

“You’re a very determined and talented person, there’s no denying that,” Tulip replied thoughtfully. “But it seems like I’m closer to finding the next vault than you are. Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?”

“Because if we assist each other, it’ll help us solve the mystery faster,” David explained. “You found my brother’s room, but I doubt you’re any closer to knowing the vault’s location.”

“True. You make logical points. But Dumbledore forbade any student from searching for them this year. What if something goes wrong and you try to pin the blame on me?”

Tulip was testing him, he knew that. She followed rules no more than he did. But clearly this was a person who didn’t trust people easily.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” David said simply. “When I thought Bill might not make prefect, I tried to take the blame from McGonagall. I’d do the same for you.

“Perish the thought of me ever becoming prefect,” Tulip laughed. “However, I am glad that you value the people around you.”

“I’ll put this simply: I don’t care about whatever so-called power the vaults have. I’m only in this for one reason and that’s to find my brother.”

The Ravenclaw girl scanned him up and down, as though he were a mildly intriguing piece of modern art. David felt a bit uncomfortable but said nothing. Finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know that I like you yet, David Grant, but I do trust you.”

Okay that’s a start...I guess

“Then will you tell me who your accomplice was?” he asked her.

“Merula Snyde.”

David immediately spit out the pumpkin juice he’d been consuming causing a few Ravenclaws to look over with mild disgust.

“WHAT?! But why would you team up with her of all people? You seem way too smart to trust Merula.”

Tulip gave him her most serious look yet.

“Merula is a lot smarter than you give her credit for. You may not like her personality, but there’s no denying her skill.”

David scoffed. “Yeah I’ll get back to you on that one. I’ve beaten her so many times in duels I’ve lost count. She’s always trying to one up me but never succeeds.”

“Her greatest weakness is that she believes she’s invincible. But more on that later. The point is we were working together at one point but then we had a falling out. Unfortunately she still has the other key to your brother’s room.”

“Then we have to get it back.”

“Agreed,” Tulip said. “But the question is ‘how’? She’s not going to hand it over willingly.”

“I’ve found over the years that the only way to get Merula Snyde to do anything is by forcing her. Typically after one beats her in a duel.”

“That may work, but this situation is also quite delicate and we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves from the teachers. Especially if they caught us fighting.”

David agreed with that conclusion. They would need to try another method.

“Then what do you suggest?

Tulip gave another sly smile.

“Leave that to me. I’ll come up with something that will turn Merula on her head.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tulip told him she would need some time to plan and would message him when ready. In the meantime, David kept busy with homework which was significantly heavier this year with two added electives. He also enjoyed the start of Quidditch season given it was the first week of November. Unfortunately, unlike the previous year, things didn't go as swimmingly for Gryffindor this time around. Slytherin edged them 300-260 in the opening match. None was as ecstatic as Merula and she constantly reminded him about it during the week.

“I really hope Tulip comes up with a plan soon,” David muttered one day while sitting in the common room with Rowan and Bill. The two third years were finishing Transfiguration homework while the prefect looked over potions he might expect to find on his OWLs. “If I have to listen to Merula brag about Slytherin’s victory any longer I might just have to learn the silencing charm in order to shut her big mouth.”

Rowan chuckled as he turned the page on Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

“You’ll get your chance at payback soon enough, especially if you intend to get that key.”

“I know...I just wish she’d hurry up. Losing to Merula in anything is unbearable.”

“Be thankful you weren’t directly responsible for the loss,” Bill said to him, indicating the somber figure of his brother slumping in one of the chairs. Charlie had been noticeably quiet since the match, avoiding crowds and shutting himself up in the dormitory most of the time outside of class.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll get over it,” Bill assured them. “But despite what you may think, Charlie is super competitive when it comes to Quidditch. He hates losing and this was the first time in his career he’s never caught the snitch.”

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” David sighed. “We should have won, though. Skye was flying circles around them again. And that Slytherin beater totally committed a foul before Charlie could seal the deal.”

“It happens. I hate losing to Slytherin too, but a little perspective never hurts. There’s another cursed vault out there we need to find.”

David and Rowan nodded. You could always count on Bill to be level headed when it came to these situations.

“Speaking of, any luck with deciphering the rest of that book?”

“It’s slow going,” Rowan said shaking his head. “I swear I’m going barmy from trying to make out all the symbols. It gets more complicated the deeper you get into the book.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Bill said kindly. “The best thing we can do now is getting into that room.”

As it happened, there was more progress on that front. Jae Kim suddenly appeared in front of their group.

“I was told by a certain Tulip Karasu to tell David that she wants you to meet her in the courtyard straight away.”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other with anticipation.

“Did she say anything else?”

Jae shrugged.

“Nope. I’m just passing along the message. If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

Bill gave an uneasy expression as the Korean boy walked off.

“I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be doing more to prevent him from running that little black market of contraband he has.”

“Jae does plenty to get himself in trouble without your involvement,” David chuckled. “I swear we don’t even need Zonko’s. He supplies half the school with Fanged Frisbees by himself.”

He stood up and brushed off some of the couch lint on his jeans.

“Guess I better see what Tulip wants.”

“Hopefully she’s got a plan,” Rowan said eagerly.

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Despite barely knowing her, David had a feeling that whatever Tulip Karasu wanted, it was bound to be interesting to say the least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made his way down to the specified area where Tulip was waiting just outside the entrance. Unlike her uniform, she wore a blue coat over a thick sweater with a matching beanie hat with a puffball on top combined with a flowy skirt, black tights, and flats. It was a brisk day despite the sunny weather and winter was well on the way.

“Good. You made it,” she greeted him. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Don’t need Trelawney’s ‘Inner Eye’ to predict you’ve got something cooked up.”

“You’re becoming more perceptive,” Tulip said with a mischievous smirk. “Merula is over there, holding court with her lackeys.”

David gave a small peek, and sure enough the Slytherin girl was there alongside Barnaby and Ismelda. What they were talking about, he couldn’t hear but Merula was clearly animated about something.

“I’d recognize that orange tuft of hair anywhere. So what’s the big plan?”

“Even though they aren’t that bright, Barnaby and Ismelda are still tough and ruthless,” Tulip explained. “We need a diversion to lure them away from her. And luckily, I have the perfect item for the job.”

Out of her coat came a dungbomb, except twice as large and covered with some kind of outer shell.

“I call it the ultimate dungbomb,” she grinned. “Mixed in with some stinksap. I used the hardening charm ‘Duro’ to give it some heft. We toss this into their little circle and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing,” David said, eyeing the putried projectile. “So now what? Do we levitate it or something?”

“Follow my lead. We hide behind the fountain until the perfect moment to strike.”

And so they entered the courtyard, tiptoeing along the way, careful not to make too much noise. The wind aided them in this goal and as they drew closer David could make out the conversation the three Slytherins were having.

“...can’t believe this! We’ve searched everywhere! We’re never going to find a cursed vault!”

“We should cast the Cruciatus Curse on Grant on his friends. Torture makes everyone talk,” Ismelda suggested with dark glee.

“Talking to you is torture. You have some serious issues, Ismelda,” Merula responded.

“We should ask Dumbledore. He’s really smart,” Barnaby said thickly.

By now Tulip and David were crouched low behind the fountain, peering over slightly to get a sense of distance from their opponents.

“Dumbledore spent half his welcome speech telling us to stay away from the vaults. Or did you forget that, you nitwit,” Merula chastised.

“We could give him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I heard he likes those.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your brain was replaced by a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean.”

“I still say we should use an unforgivable,” Ismelda cut in. “I’d like to cast the killing curse on the next Gryffindor I see.”

That earned a look of derision and disgust from her leader.

“You don’t even know the killing curse.”

“I sat on a bowtruckle once!” Barnaby pipped up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ismelda asked, looking at Barnaby as though he had a second head.

“I thought we were talking about killing things.”

“Ugh, I hate you both,” Merula commented, rolling her eyes.

David shook his head behind the fountain.

“Merlin, this is literally too stupid to listen to. Now?”

Tulip nodded.

“Now!”

Using her wand, the Ravenclaw sent the ultimate dungbomb flying into the air towards the Slytherin trio. It exploded upon impact causing a toxic mist of green and yellow to fill the air and all three began to tear up, covering their noses with their arms.

“Dear, Merlin that is awful!” Ismelda cried, coughing into her arm.

“I can’t breathe!” Barnaby said coughing as well. “Let’s get out of here!”

Merula was hacking and wheezing too, but she still had enough oxygen to call after them as they ran.

“Get back here you cowards! It’s just a dungbomb!”

David wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, Tulip in tow. They both confronted the angry Slytherin, who became irate upon laying her eyes on them.

“I should have known it was you!” Merula shouted, trembling with rage.

“Your powers of perception are truly dizzying,” he said to her in a bored tone.

“Hand the key over to us, Merula. I don’t know how long I can stand your stink,” Tulip demanded.

The look on the Slytherin’s face went from rage to incredulous.

“Us? You betrayed me, started working with Grant and have the audacity to ask me to give you the second key?”

“Actually...yeah.”

Merula’s expression returned to its usual nasty leer.

“Well too bad. I’m not giving you anything. How does it feel knowing I found your brother’s room before you did, Grant?”

“I don’t have time for this, Merula,” David said sternly. “Give us the key, now.”

Tulip then did something unexpected, stepping forward, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“We could use your help. This doesn’t have to turn ugly. Work with us.”

David was surprised at the offer of assistance and wondered where it stemmed from but predictably, Merula turned it down.

“I don’t want to work with you, I want to duel. Specifically you, Grant. Beat me again and the key is yours…” she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. “But I don’t plan on losing to you. Not this time.”

David withdrew his own wand and prepared for battle. In truth, he was looking forward to pop her ego once more.

“You never learn, do you Merula?”

He quickly fired a disarming spell, but she ducked while sending one of her own which missed over his shoulder, causing Tulip to dodge.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Despite it heading straight for her chest, the Slytherin demonstrated remarkable athleticism by rolling to her side and firing back a retort.

“Flipendo!”

David was forced to copy the same maneuver, scraping his elbow on the stone but managed to avoid the knockback jinx. Wheeling back around he aimed a jelly legs jinx but again it missed due to Merula’s agility.

She’s clearly learned a thing or two since last year

The Slytherin began pressing forward, drawing closer with each curse she fired off, putting David on the defensive retreating from his original spot back towards the wall. Some of the spells he recognized, some he didn’t and he was fairly certain a few were the kind a thirteen year old girl wasn’t supposed to know. All the same, he had to think of something before one of them landed on his person. Then, he remembered her weak spot, the same one as always.

Too aggressive. Too wild with her spells

Indeed while she was driving forward, he could see a manic look in her eye, the kind that someone had when they were determined but unhealthily obsessed. David then came up with an idea. Dropping his stance and his wand into a wide, lazy position, he allowed his opponent to think she was catching him off guard. Sure enough, Merula took the bait.

“Remollio!”

A jet of sickly, yellow light headed straight towards his head. Smiling slightly, he ducked forward into an almost ninety degree angle and sent back a spell of his own.

“Fumo!”

A mass of black smoke issued in front of Merula, blocking her vision and senses. It was all the time he needed to strike the winning blow.

“Depulso!”

The banishing charm smashed into the Slytherin girl sending her flying back and hard onto the ground into a groaning heap, wand dislodged.

Dissipating the smoke, David walked forward, wand aimed and ready in case she tried to cheat or lash back out.

“I win again, Merula. I won’t ask a third time. Give me the key.”

Clutching her shoulder painfully, she rose from the ground, grabbed her wand, and proceeded to chuck a golden key at his feet.

“Fine! Take the stupid key! I already got what I needed from that loser’s room anyway.”

Tulip came up behind him now that the duel was over, picking up the key, sympathy still lurking in her dark brown eyes.

“Merula, please we could still use…”

“My help? Save your breath. I don’t work with traitors!”

Lavender eyes switched over to David and for the first time, he saw that they were on the verge of tears.

“Watch out for this one, Grant. It's only a matter of time before she stabs you in the back.”

Without another word, Merula brushed past them, the sound of combat boots hitting against stone echoing across the courtyard as she ran back towards the dungeons.

David wondered what Tulip’s reaction would be to these thinly veiled accusations but to his slight surprise her sympathetic expression was gone, replaced by her usual mischievous delight.

“Mission accomplished, David Grant. Let’s go to your brother’s room.”

Though satisfied with receiving the key, Merula’s reaction unnerved the teenage Gryffindor. He didn’t bring it up further but there was no doubt Tulip hadn’t told him everything about her history with his chief rival.

At least not yet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two teens wasted no time in heading towards Jacob’s room and soon they were standing in front of the dark brown, wooden, door. However, there was one question still burning in the back of David’s mind.

“Tulip?”

“Hm?”

“What did Merula mean when she said she already took what she needed from my brother’s room?”

Tulip shook her head.

“She was lying. We used this room because it was full of valuable information and research but there was nothing worth taking or pointing to the location of the vaults themselves...at least nothing that I saw.”

“Jacob was always pretty savvy at hiding things,” David informed her. “It’s perfectly possible you missed something. Hell, I just found a quill that turned out to be his transfigured notebook. I know this will sound strange, but I haven’t felt this close to him since he disappeared. There are a lot of things I’m still finding out.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Ravenclaw teen asked him seriously. “You may not like what you find.”

David didn’t hesitate with his response. Any potential negative revelation about his brother could not outweigh the possible benefits of discovering more about his whereabouts.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. I have to see where he did his research.”

Tulip nodded, taking out her key and inserting it into the first part of the lock. She handed him the one they received from Merula.

“Do the honors.”

He did so, unclicking the lock, the golden seal falling to the floor with a metal clank. The door creaked open and the two teens entered the mysterious space. However, it was dark and impossible to see anything.

“I can’t see two feet in front of me,” David said aloud. “Tulip, you there?”

“Yeah. Lumos.”

The sight that greeted them was both unexpected and horrifying. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, bald, sickly pale man cloaked in black robes. His features were gaunt and waxy as though they had been warped or burnt, especially his nose, which was disproportionately smaller. But that was not the most disturbing aspect of this person. Within the skull like head were a pair of deadly, luminous blood red eyes that reeked of menace and murder. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Y-Y-You Know Who! It can’t be!” David cried.

“Run, Grant! RUN!”

Tulip immediately pulled him back before the figure could pull out his wand and slammed the door shut behind them.

Catching their breath from the near heart attack they both suffered, it took a few moments before either one could say anything.

“How is that possible? You Know Who is dead,” he panted.

“Use your common sense, David Grant. That was clearly a boggart. Hogwarts is crawling with them these days.”

Regaining his wits, the Gryffindor realized Tulip was right and mentally smacked himself for being so gullible.

“Merlin, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Tulip reasoned. “A lot of grown witches and wizards would have reacted the same way, if not worse.”

She paused before adding. “I am curious, though. Why is your boggart, You Know Who?”

The truth was, David didn’t know the full reason why but before he could explain that to Tulip they were interrupted by another very unpleasant presence.

“Well, well...David Grant and Tulip Karasu...why am I not surprised to find you two here together?” Severus Snape spoke in his usual dangerous, silky tone.

Oh, shit

“Professor I-”

“Silence,” the potions master cut across him. “Your brother was the most disobedient student Hogwarts had seen since James Potter. You may have overtaken him.”

“But we’re allowed to be here, sir. It’s not after hours yet.”

“Do you really believe me to be a naive simpleton, Grant? Stay away from this corridor and give up your search for the vaults, or I will ensure you will share your brother’s fate. Now back to your common rooms, both of you.”

The two teens did not dare argue but before they parted company under Snape’s watchful eye he saw Tulip mouth to him, ‘We’ll talk later.’

They would need to. With Hogwarts' nastiest professor onto them and a boggart taking the form of Voldemort blocking the way, another method of gaining access to the room was needed.

David sighed as his brother’s room went out of view. He really hated roadblocks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, Snape couldn’t be everywhere at once and that included meal times as well as meetings after Transfiguration which the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared together. Though both David and Tulip were eager to try and go back to the room they mutually agreed to stay away for the time being lest the head of Slytherin catch them again. The main priority was getting rid of the boggart.

“Professor Sprout used some kind of spell to defeat the boggart that scared Penny earlier in the year,” David mused while he and the Ravenclaw walked together after class one day.

“Well technically we’re supposed to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. But we can’t wait for that incompetent buffoon to actually bring it up or teach us for that matter.”

“I swear these gormless prats are more and more useless with each passing year,” David agreed. “Guess it’s time to hit the library.”

“Let’s agree to research there after lessons are done every Friday,” Tulip suggested. “I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn before the holidays come around.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can bring Rowan along too. He’s one of the smartest people I know. Super brainy.”

Tulip suddenly hesitated.

“Actually, I’d prefer it to just be the two of us...for the time being. I can’t really explain it right now. Just trust me.”

As it was with Merula, David didn’t press the issue but he was steadily growing evermore curious about his new partner’s past. Whatever happened between her and the Slytherin teen must have been severe but he sensed there was more to it than that.

Adding to the surrounding mystery was another anonymous message he received one night. He had just come back from dinner with Penny, Tonks, and Diego when Rowan rushed to greet him quite frantically.

“David!”

“Whoa, steady on. What’s up?”

His best friend proceeded to pull out a letter from his robe pocket and hand it to him. The envelope was not addressed and carried no visible distinction.

“I found this on your bed,” he explained. “It just...appeared there. I didn’t open it in case it was private or cursed.”

David stared at the mail for a split second debating his chances. If it was a message from ‘R’ once again he was mostly certain it wasn’t cursed. Such a group would have tried to kill him by now. Then again he also had no idea what they were capable of given the general mystery surrounding them.

Taking his chances, he slit open the envelope, removed the parchment inside and read the contents aloud.

“You are in grave danger. Your investigation into the Cursed Vaults has drawn the attention of a group who is not to be trifled with. Be careful, but remain courageous. I’m depending on you to reach the final vault before the others. I will assist you when I can. I hope the next time I deliver you a message, the circumstances are far less mysterious.

Sincerely,

A Friend’”

Taking a moment to reread the letter and analyze its contents David looked towards his brainiac friend for a possible explanation. Rowan appeared to be as lost as he was.

“For the record, I have no idea who wrote you that letter. Do you?”

David certainly had no more inkling than the hippogriff by Hagrid’s hut. There were a number of possibilities, which included his brother, an enemy playing tricks, or even the Headmaster himself.

“I’m as lost as you are. I’d say it was a ruse except for the fact none of the Slytherins know how to get into our common room. If anything, it sounds like an ally of some sort.”

“I sure hope so,” Rowan responded with a bit of anxiety. “These anonymous messages are starting to creep me out a bit.”

He paused before asking another question.

“By the way, what’s with this Tulip girl? Why does she insist on working with you alone?”

David genuinely shrugged.

“I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

In truth, David had little time to reflect on it at the current moment. Tulip was a vital piece in all of this and he could scarcely afford to scare her off. Whoever the mystery man was that claimed to be on his side, there was no use in dwelling on that either. Aside from his schoolwork, which he was careful to pay close attention to, the only thing that mattered was learning how to get rid of that pesky boggart in his brother’s room in order to properly access it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t too difficult in principle. Within their first round of research the Ravenclaw girl discovered the spell ‘Ridikkilus’ which was the same one Professor Sprout used to disperse the boggart in the Herbology classroom. However, given the risks of using the spell without prior experience and with Snape still looming over their heads, Tulip advised against going back to the room before they were ready. David wanted to head back as soon as possible but he eventually relented as his new partner in crime told him to practice over the holidays while she thought of a plan.

Honestly, she’s always scheming that one

However, with Christmas around the corner, the dreaded return back to West Country loomed over his head and he was not looking forward to the strained, emotionally stunted holiday as was per custom in the Grant household. But on the eve of his departure, he received a distraction of sorts, something quite unexpected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the season before the holidays and David used that time to share a glass of butterbeer with his friends namely Rowan, Ben, Tonks, Penny, and Charlie. The Three Broomsticks was even cozier and warm this time of year and full of festive cheer and decorations, many of which he helped Madam Rosmerta put up before the big customer rush as a ‘thank you’ for giving him the quill. In return, he and his companions received a round of free drinks.

“I tell you what. Life doesn’t get much better than this,” Rowan said, taking a satisfying swig.

“I can’t wait to go home and see my family for Christmas,” Penny beamed. She was snuggled up in a blue coat with a matching beret, leggings, and snow boots. David couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow on her cheeks and how pretty she looked. “My sister is dying to know more about Hogwarts even though I’ve told her so much already.”

“What about you, Dave?” Ben asked genuinely.

David tried to hide the fact that he was secretly conflicted and tried to play it off with his usual sarcasm.

“Well my mom will stress herself needlessly from making the dinner, my dad will read his newspaper and do paperwork, we open some presents followed by an awkward crying session from said mother who tops it off with a bottle of wine….so yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

The blond boy was unsure how to respond to that as flushed with embarrassment.

“I...uh…”

“Relax, Ben,” Tonks cut in. “Dave knows you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, I know exactly how to cheer him up.”

She transformed her face into that of a toucan’s beak, something usually never failed to elicit a laugh. But this time the Gryffindor teen didn’t budge.

“Oh come on, David that always works. Show a little festive cheer!”

Before she could stick another butterbeer under his nose the second Weasley brother came back over with another round and a message.

“Drink up you lot. Also David, my brother wants a word with you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For what? Did he mention a reason?”

“Just said it was urgent. He’s over there sitting by himself. Pretty moody by his standards.”

Shrugging, he took the spare butterbeer weaved and ducked his way through the Christmas crowd and found Bill seated at one of the tables meant for two people. Indeed, he had a curious expression on his face.

“Charlie told me you wanted to talk?” he said, taking his chair. “Is everything okay?”

“How are you in the ways of romance, Dave?”

It was a loaded question, one he was not prepared to answer at all. Because the answer was not at all.

“Uh, Bill...I think you may want the tea shop down the street,” he joked referring to Madam Puddifoots. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“I’m obsessed with this girl named Emily Tyler,” the prefect explained and there was a swooning glint in his eyes. “She’s not only beautiful but in Defense Against the Dark Arts she single handedly stupefied an entire swarm of vampire bats.”

“That’s not saying much given the current state of that class,” David joked again, taking a sip from his glass. He did, however, see Bill’s point. He knew of Emily Tyler and many older Gryffindors had the hots for her. She always hung out with the same group of friends chatting away about gossip, makeup, Witch Weekly, and whatever they found interesting that day. She was also quite wealthy on both sides of her family. “So what’s the next step then? Are you going to tell her?”

“You make it sound so simple. But I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me.”

David had never seen Bill this...timid before and it was a bit unsettling. The tall, lanky, long haired Weasley was usually the cool one of their group- collected, confident, the voice of reason and was a favorite among the student body in the way he conducted his prefect duties. To witness him as being so unsure meant this girl meant a lot to him.

“Bill, no offense but you’re asking the wrong bloke. I know less about this stuff than you do. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“Well neither have I. I’ve also never been in love before.”

“And what makes you think...wait you’re in love?” he asked, completely floored.

“Am I? I don’t even know anymore. What’s happening to me?”

It was then the adolescent Gryffindor knew just how important this was to Bill and the least he could do was try and spread some cheer before Christmas. Just as Tonks pointed out. If he could play matchmaker for one of his best friends, what was the harm?

“Don’t worry about a thing mate. I’ll go talk to her. No problem.”

Bill smiled in response, his worried brows relaxing slightly.

“Good. She’s actually right over there.”

He pointed behind him ever so subtly to indicate her presence, and sure enough, there she was hanging out with her usual assortment of friends, holding court at one of the wall booths.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“Then I will,” David replied simply. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained the latter portion of his butterbeer and made his way over through the vast crowd. Upon finally reaching the booth it didn’t take long for the group of girls to look up at him with curious looks as though he were some kind of exotic alien. That certainly didn’t help his nerves but he pressed forward anyway.

“Emily Tyler?”

David didn’t need to ask as he recognized her right away. He could see what the elder Weasley meant. Like Bill, Emily was a fifth year but physically quite mature, and could have passed for two or three years beyond her age. True to word, she was very pretty, piercing brown eyes to go with high cheekbones and a slim, feminine jawline to go along with extensive makeup. Dark brown hair formed a widow’s peak along her forehead and was pulled back into a high ponytail. She also appeared to be quite fond of the color pink as she wore a long sleeved magenta dress complete with thick, pink tights, a cardigan and boots. It was indicative of someone who grew up quite upper class.

Though she did not look annoyed, there was a haughtiness to her expression that was a tad unsettling to the third year cursebreaker.

“That’s my name,” she responded evenly, ignoring the whispers of her posse. “And you’re that cursed vault kid, David Grant. What can I do you for?”

“Well I’m a friend of Bill Weasley’s…”

This didn’t seem to impress her.

“Okay?”

Out with it. She’s not going to wait for the grass to grow

“He fancies you and wants to know how you feel.”

On cue the rest of Emily’s friends began to giggle though she gave no indication as to how she personally felt.

“If I can speak in his favor, he’s a solid bloke. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“He fancies me? I have to say I’m surprised,” Emily finally responded.

“It’s true. Haven’t seen him this frazzled...well ever really.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I don’t want to look like an idiot. What did he tell you?”

“Fair warning: I know as much about romance as I do about advanced Arithmancy, don’t hex the messenger,” David told her bluntly.

“Perish the thought. I want to hear this,” Emily said as much to her friends as she did to him to stop them from giggling.

“What else can I say? He thinks you’re amazing, powerful, beautiful, strong. Bill is as cool as any person in this school but he’s a mess over you. And you couldn’t ask to date a finer person.”

There it was. A glowing recommendation and an honest account of his friend’s intentions and feelings. Surely that was enough to win over a girl right?

He thought wrong. A very unpleasant, arrogant smirk crossed Emily Tyler’s face as she began playing with her pink, manicured nails.

“What a prat.”

David did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s reasonably handsome but why would anyone date a Weasley?”

Anger surged through David as his right hand turned into a fist around his glass mug. Was she really turning him down for the reasons he thought she was? The resumed giggling from her cronies made it worse.

“May I ask why?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everyone knows the Weasleys are one the poorest wizarding families in Britain. They have no means, no manners, and no prospects. Why would I lower myself to such a standard?”

“I think you should take that back,” David said with quiet fury.

“And so what if I don’t?” Emily sneered. “Tell your friend thank you for sharing his feelings, it was a good for a laugh but he’s delusional if he ever thought he had a chance with me.”

By now, pure hatred surged through his veins, temper getting the best of him. More from the shock of someone actually insulting Bill, Emily Tyler was now the queen bitch in his eyes. Slamming his mug on the table with tremendous force, causing the four girls to jump with fright.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he growled. “Bill must be attracted to your looks because your personality is pure rubbish.”

Emily recovered from the shock and shot him a venomous, threatening stare.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough. You sit over here prattling on like my mother at a book club thinking you’re the greatest thing since Merlin’s first bowel movement. But you’re nothing but a stuck up piece of shite. I’m just glad I can tell Bill before he wastes any more time on you.”

He flipped the glass over, spilling the small amount of butterbeer left inside.

“Get bent...snobbish twit.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and left, still fuming over the audacity of Emily Tyler to call his mate ill mannered and inferior. It was also a highlight into the flaws of his own house. Just because you were bold and confident didn’t make you a good person. So pissed he was, he barely noticed Bill’s reaction when he sat back down at the table.

“Dave?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to explode. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Of course, Bill didn’t believe that.

“What happened and what did Emily say?”

On the one hand, David really didn’t want to reveal the full extent of Emily’s denigrating insults. It might shatter his heart given how much he liked her. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have someone he looked up to pining after someone who would sooner rip his heart out and stomp on it than date him. The truth was more important than protecting him from it.

“Bill...I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated seeing Bill’s confused face and he suspected that what was to follow would be equally as painful.

“Mate, she’s not interested. And she didn’t mince words.”

The eldest Weasley’s expression fell dramatically.

“Oh.”

“You can do better than her,” David tried to reassure him

“But-but she’s the most beautiful girl in our year...this whole school.”

“She’s also mean, arrogant, and generally awful. Bill, she insulted you and your family.”

He didn’t want to go there but there was little other choice than to prevent his friend from continuing his obsession. And he wasn’t fibbing. Bill did deserve better.

“She did?”

“Heard it with my own two ears.”

“But what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” David emphasized. “And that’s the point. You’re too good for her. And not the other way around.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Bill said with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The third year leaned forward, speaking with the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“Listen to me...you’re one of my best friends. You’ve taught me a lot about dueling, magic, and Hogwarts itself. Everyone I know looks up to you as a person, prefect, and role model….and so do I. Don’t let someone like Emily Tyler change that. Be good to yourself.”

His impassioned speech seemed to finally break through and the Bill Weasley of old shone through.

“Thanks, David...I’m sorry for acting like an idiot. She’s the first girl I really fell for...it’s hard you know?”

He didn’t, not truly since he’d never had a crush on a girl before. But David felt a great deal of sympathy for his friend. Anything that could rattle the cool Bill Weasley could rattle anyone else.

“Of course.”

“Now let’s grab another butterbeer. Next one’s on me.”

“Cheers, mate. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He and Bill made their way back towards their friend group where Charlie, Rowan, and company were waiting, greeting them warmly. Though the drinks were sweet and the atmosphere quite merry for the upcoming Christmas season, David own’s spirits were far from being satiated. A part of him knew his angry reaction to Emily’s rejection of the eldest Weasley was due to his own misapprehension and unhappiness that plagued him this time of year.

Images of his brother flashed before his mind as though it were a dream sequence.

For all the faith people placed in him, he wished he could take his own advice.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #mc #hphm fanfiction #Gryffindor #David Grant #merula snyde #tulip kasaru #penny haywood #rowan khanna #ben copper #bill weasley #charlie weasley #barnaby lee #ismelda murk #emily tyler #severus snape #nymphadora tonks

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rosmarinys · 4 years

Text

i should not care but i don’t know how

read on ao3, dedicated to @josephgraham for creating this crackship that i’ve accidentally been sucked into, thank u king ahdsahfksjfka

It starts like this: Peter heads to café to ask Gran if she thinks that Dad is acting shifty – because he is, Peter might have been gone for a while and Dad could be different now, but guilty is guilty and Peter can read it all over his face, he just doesn’t know why – and as he walks in, he bumps into someone walking out.

“Sorry,” Peter says on reflex, ready to step back and let the stranger pass by.

The guy looks up at him and Peter is struck for a second at how attractive he is – which is, what? Peter has never been one to take stock of how attractive men are, he’s into women, women like Lauren and Lola, all curves not heavy muscle like this man is – but isn’t allowed a second to recover because the stranger winks at him.

“I’m not,” he says before brushing past Peter and disappearing down the street.

His front had pressed against Peter’s for a moment and there had been a second in which Peter wanted to press back but he hadn’t and why does it feel like a missed opportunity?

He shakes himself and heads into the café. No time for a sexuality crisis, Ian is hiding something.

Time passes and Peter keeps seeing the stranger around. Lola tells him that his name is Tubbs and, seriously? Peter does suppose that he is big, but it seems like pure muscle, very little fat. Not that Peter spends a lot of time thinking about his body. He’s been busy, Dotty and Bex are helping him find out exactly what happened on the boat and Peter likes to think that Ian isn’t capable of murder but he thought the same of Bobby, once.

It’s a couple of weeks before Peter actually talks to Tubbs again. This time, Tubbs snatches the newspaper out of Peter’s hand while he was reading it, walking back towards Dad’s house. Peter opens his mouth to snap at him, but Tubbs beats him to it, opening the newspaper theatrically in front of his face and asks, “Been asking after me, pretty boy?” His eyes glint mischievously at Peter, the only thing he can see over the paper, dark and bright.

Peter feels himself scowl while there’s a flush spreading on his neck. “We have a mutual friend, don’t make it something it’s not.”

Tubbs drops the newspaper and grins. “Just said that you were asking after me, who said anything about something else?” His smile is filthy, and Peter wants to kiss him. Which is- a lot to deal with at 10am on a Thursday. So he scowls further and holds his hand out for his paper before marching off.

And if Tubbs brushes his fingers against Peter’s for a second, then Peter doesn’t think about it afterwards. Not at all.

The third time he meets Tubbs is when things come to a head. Peter is getting drunk at E20, a gay club, yes, but Peter is testing the waters, and Tubbs walks in.

Peter actually doesn’t notice Tubbs coming in despite the fact that the chair he’s sitting in gives him full view of the entrance; his alcohol tolerance has shot so far down since he had Louis, he can feel his 18-year-old self’s disgust at his inability to last past five tequila shots.

Tubbs slides into the seat in front of him. “You following me or something?” Peter slurs, resting his head on his fist, having to look up Tubbs this way. It feels right like this, like the world has always just been slightly off and he’s finally corrected it. Tubbs isn’t someone who should be looked down at, Peter realises.

“You wish,” Tubbs snorts and Peter grins at him, dopily and he hopes its not a trick of the light that makes the way Tubbs grins back him seem fond. “You are fucked,” Tubbs laughs, and gets up and half-picks Peter up underneath his arms and Peter feels himself blink at the strength Tubbs must have. “Let’s get you home, I don’t want Ian Beale on my case, from what Ben’s told me, I imagine I would die of annoyance.”

Tubbs turns to smirk at Peter, his arm around his torso, Peter’s own arm draped over his shoulder, and he smirks as if they are in on an inside joke together and at one point they came outside, Peter can feel the dew of the air soak into his jumper, and Tubbs is taking him back to that house and it’s too much, all of it is and Peter would rather be taken anywhere else so he opens his mouth and speaks and immediately wants to punch himself in the face.

“My dad killed Dennis.”

Tubbs freezes, Peter feels his shoulders tense beneath his arm, his hand tightening on Peter’s waist. He turns to look at Peter and his face is so close, Peter can see that he actually has tiny freckles on his nose and has to restrain the urge to trace them.

“What?” he asks, and his voice is low, his face blank and it feels wrong, Peter is looking down at him again and he isn’t grinning or being a shit and the world is knocked off kilter again and it feels off in a way that its always felt since Lucy died.

“I don’t know why I told you that, you’re just so-so-” Peter stutters and if he was more sound of mind, he would see Tubbs’ eyes flickering around the street to make sure they’re alone.

“What?” Tubbs repeats and Peter wants things to feel the way they did in E20, just for a second, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching down and kissing Tubbs.

There’s a second in which Tubbs makes a noise of surprise that he feels in his bones before kissing Peter back and he can feel his knees go weak but then Tubbs pulls back and frowns. “You’re drunk, Peter,” he says, holding Peter’s chin back when he tries to kiss him again. “Easy, cowboy. How about you try again when you’re sober, eh?”

Peter blinks, drowsily, and nods, mind slowing to a halt, too many thoughts in his head crashing into each other, he likes to think that his brain wasn’t a car crash once, probably before Lucy died but what use is there thinking about that Peter, he’s in the grave with his twin sister.

He barely notices the rest of the journey home or how Tubbs gets him onto the couch, only feels it when Tubbs’ hands leave him.

(The next night, Peter drags Tubbs into the nearest alleyway and barely manages to ask, ‘Can I?’ before Tubbs is yanking him down and kissing away any other words that rested on his tongue.)

It becomes a thing that isn’t quite a thing. Peter means to bring it up sometimes – there’s only so many times he can tolerate Ben’s shit-eating looks before he snaps – but Tubbs puts his mouth on his pulse point and his veins feel like electricity and its forgotten.

He manages to ask once, Tubbs stretched out on the hotel bed in a distracting manner as Peter tugs on a shirt. “So, what exactly are we?”

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re about to propose,” Tubbs says, turning his head to look at Peter, eyes hooded.

Peter throws a sock at him. “Shut up, I was just asking, I’ve never – y’know. Whatever,” he sighs and reaches for his shoes.

Tubbs sighs as well behind him and Peter likes to think that he’s watching him, that he likes what he sees. “It’s just sex, calm down, pretty boy.”

Peter glances back at him and thinks that he’s never seen anyone as gorgeous as Tubbs is, nice to look at in the way that fills Peter between the gaps in his rib cage. “Right,” he says at last. He stands up and grabs his jacket. “Well, later,” and it all feels very anticlimactic, like it always does when he runs off as soon as they’re done, brain running at a hundred miles an hour and he needs to run to the nearest bench and sit with his head in his hands and try to figure out why having sex with Lauren leaves him tired afterwards whereas sex with Tubbs leaves him desperately alive afterwards, like he’s touched an open wire.

Tubbs catches his hand as he passes by towards the door. His thumb presses into Peter’s wrist, feeling the pulse thrumming underneath and when Peter looks at him, he’s focused on their hands and he sees Tubbs’ chest stutter when he wraps his fingers around Tubbs’ wrist in response.

“Stay?” Tubbs asks, and then his expression shutters, closing off that emotion that Peter couldn’t quite read. “We can watch the history channel, or whatever.” Peter tells himself that he doesn’t care that Tubbs knows what he likes to watch on the TV.

He drops his jacket and watches Tubbs grin, hard muscle softening for a second.

It continues that way, Peter staying for longer and longer after until he doesn't even think of leaving, just lies half on Charlie while their sweat cools – “You can call me Charlie y’know,” Tubbs says once, before immediately sucking a hickey in Peter’s neck so that he almost forgot but remembered just as he was leaving, just in time to whisper, “Bye, Charlie,” and smack a kiss onto Tubbs’ cheek and feel the heat that blossomed beneath his lips. Peter’s face rests on Charlie’s collarbone, fingers mindlessly tracing shapes on his bicep as he murmurs into his skin, “He lied to my face, Charlie, and I actually believed him.”

Charlie hums and Peter feels it run through him. “Some people are just bad to the bone, baby, nothing you can do about that. My dad was the same way.” He reaches a hand up and runs it through Peter’s hair. He’s doing it to distract him, but Peter lets him, rolls his head up to meet his eyes. “Hello there, pretty boy.”

“Hello,” Peter replies, and kisses him.

(This is how it ends: it doesn't.)

#peter x tubbs #peter beale #charlie savage #tubbs #eastenders #ee fanfiction #my writing #any ship that ian wouldnt approve of is a valid ship #also how the fuck do u write the progression of a relationship i do Not know but i will one day learn bear with dear audience #dear audience as if this ship isnt just me shannon and ellie in a rowing boat ashfgdwfjdwk #so um. yes #have my dumb kids #:)

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theentiregdtime · 5 years

Note

macdennis fluff plz - Mac has a nightmare and has to sleep with Dennis for the night (obviously) and has a story read to him maybe whist cuddling?

Mac’s having that dream again.

He’s in a recurring nightmare and he knows it’s anightmare, but he doesn’t know how to wake up. He’s not strong enough to stopit from playing out.

The room is on fire. It’s on fire and he’s sitting on thesofa beside his mom, nursing a road-rashed knee. He’s maybe eight or nine or ten-he doesn’t know, but he knows he doesn’t feel like a kid at all anymore. Hetries to tell his mom he loves her and she chokes on her cigarette, coughs likeshe’s dying, asks him why he hasn’t put the groceries away. He tries to tellher again, that he loves her, and she nags him to shut up and take the dog out,clean the garbage off the lawn, fix the leak in the bathroom- because his dadisn’t around anymore and that’s his job now. She doesn’t love him, but sheneeds him, and that’s as good as it’s going to get.

The fire envelops him, burning a hole through the floor,and suddenly he’s sitting across from his father, divided by a pane of glass,phone pressed to his ear. He’s maybe fifteen or sixteen, but he doesn’t feellike a teenager. The prison is in flames and there’s nobody else in the roombut the two of them, and before he can stop it, he’s telling his dad he loveshim through the receiver. He responds like he didn’t hear it, tells him heneeds to get a message to a friend of his on the outside, and that he has tolisten carefully to every word he says, because he doesn’t have a lot of time-not one of those words is “I love you, too” or anything close. This is his jobnow and it doesn’t matter if he loves him, because he needs him, and that’s asgood as it gets.

The phone melts and the glass splinters and everythingdrips away until Mac is sitting in the pews of his church, all alone, hands claspedtogether and telling God that he loves him and pleading for a response, a sign,any kind of answer. He knows he’s not supposed to ask for an answer, he’s notsupposed to expect a reward- that’s what the church has taught him all hislife. He’s supposed to love unconditionally and just know that he’s loved back,to trust it, and that’s supposed to be good enough, that’s as good as it gets.He knows it would be blasphemous to admit out loud that it’s never actuallyfelt like enough, that he wants to hear it back from someone, anyone. He asksfor a reply out loud and it’s too late to stop it, the flames are rising upfrom underneath the pews, wrapping around his legs, scorching him until a hand with long, sharp talons rises up and grabs him by the arm to yank him downinto hell.

The flames die down, but don’t disappear, and he’s on theother side of the bar with Dennis’ fingers in his arm. Suddenly he’s an adult- he’salways felt like an adult, he’s always had to be, but now he’s really one- notjust mentally, but physically. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like a burden,he feels weaker than he’s ever felt. It’s so fucking hot and Dennis isignoring the fire, and Mac tries to tell him that he loves him, but before heeven finishes saying it, Dennis is going on about how annoying it is to livewith him and how loud he snores and how he never does the laundry and how heleaves a mess everywhere he goes and how much he hates him. But Dennis needshim, he needs him to make his coffee in the morning and bring him pills for hisheadaches and remind him to eat and put a blanket over him when he falls asleepon the couch- he needs him, and he doesn’t know he needs him, but he does, andthat’s as good as it’s ever going to get. He tries to reach out and touch him,but his skin is peeling off, his flesh is molting, and everything around him isconsumed by fire.

Mac shoots up in bed, hyperventilating and clutching at thesheets.

He’s still registering what’s happening, but he knows heneeds to steady himself. He needs to find something to anchor onto, somethingto remind him he’s awake and he’s safe and he isn’t burning.

The room is dark- so dark he isn’t sure it is hisroom- and his heart is pounding so loud it seems like it’s coming from thewalls. His head feels hot and his ears are ringing, and all he knows to do isknead the blanket in his hands until the haze starts to clear.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Mac’s panting slowsdown and his heart stops beating so rapidly. The anxious knot in his stomach doesn’t untwist, though. He feels small and the room feels small and hedoesn’t know how to fix it when he’s alone like this.

He misses when he and Dennis were sleeping in the same bed,and he could roll over and tap him on the nose and tell him all about his baddreams- even if there were four of them crammed onto the same mattress back in those days.

Mac’s had this nightmare before, lots of times, but Dennishas never been in it. Some nights, someone out of the ordinary- Carmen orCharlie or one of his estranged cousins- would make an appearance, but… it wasnever Dennis. He never used to worry that he was a burden to him, that he madehis life worse, that he didn’t love him with the fury of a thousand suns orwhatever- but that was before things got all weird between them.

He tries to stay put, but he knows the only thing that’sgoing to soothe his anxiety is to go talk to Dennis and get some reassurancethat everything is fine. But it’s the middle of the night, and he shouldreally forget it and go back to bed, but he can’t sleep and his lungsare still shaky and he feels strange in his own skin.

Before he can tell himself he definitely shouldn’t gowake Dennis up, Mac is shuffling off the bed and making his way out into theliving room.

——---

Dennis is busy rifling through a box of old mementos, staring at photographs that feel like they were taken centuries ago andtrying to convince himself he hasn’t peaked yet, when he hears the door open.

“Why’re the lights on, man?”

He slams the yearbook he’s holding shut- drops it back inwith the rest of the bygone, dust-sheathed crap- and glances up at Mac, who’sjust waltzed right in for some reason. What business of his is it if he choosesto have the lights on at this hour? It is his room, damn it.

Dennis rolls his teeth over his lips before he speaks.

“What, uh…” he stumbles softly. “What’s up?”

Instead of answering, Mac shuts the door behind him and sitson the edge of the bed. He’s facing the wall, but just by watching the waythe muscles in his back move, just from hearing the hitching of his breath, Dennis cantell something is wrong. He doesn’t know what to say, though, because hedoesn’t know what the problem is- so he simply sits there and listens to thesound.

“Can I just,” Mac says and sounds so far away, “stay here…for a little while?”

Dennis has known Mac for more than twenty years now, and heknows him well enough to recognize when his anxiety is off the shits. But it’sbeen a long time, and Mac isn’t so helpless anymore. He’s a lot biggerthan he used to be. He’s a lot stronger. He’s gotten himself together in waysDennis can’t even begin to process, and only knows to react to with anger.

Right now, though, he looks kind of small again.

Slowly, but not at all hesitant, Dennis reaches out andplaces a hand on Mac’s shoulder blade. He presses his palm against himhard and digs his fingers into his shirt, reminding him that he’s there, buthis hand looks so little and fragile compared to the muscles in Mac’s back, andthings are so different than they used to be. He knew how to deal with thisbefore, and in turn, Mac knew how to handle him when he had his episodes, butnow…

Dennis isn’t so sure who they are or how they fit aroundeach other anymore.

He sinks his hand into Mac harder, because it’s all he knows.

“Mac-”

“It’s cool… I’m fine.” He doesn’t sound fine, hesounds fucking awful. “I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Well, you sort of already barged in, so…”

Dennis feels him shudder underneath his fingers andknows right away that he’s said the wrong thing.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, man,” Mac whimpers.

“I was just,” -he clears his throat- “just joking.”

That sounds so stupid and shitty out loud.

Dennis slips his hand off of Mac and returns to the cardboardbox in his lap, trying to ignore his presence and give him the space he soclearly wants. He rifles through Polaroids and scrap papers and notes andthings he’s not sure why he still has, but that make him feel so disconnectedfrom who he used to be, like a stranger in his own body.

He and Mac and Charlie and Dee… they were all so small andmessy and confused and young, but they had each other and that madeeverything make sense. Now, Dennis has been away from them for a year, and hefeels smaller and messier and more confused than he’s ever felt- but he doesn’tfeel young. He feels so, so old. He feels like so much time has gone by that hecan’t recapture, so much potential has slipped through his hands, so many morewrinkles have made a home on his face, and he’s losing all his chances and losinghis friends and losing Mac.

It’s getting harder and harder to convince himself he’sstill got charisma and looks, that women still want him, that everyone stilllooks up to him, that he’s still got time to figure his life out and be a realperson. He feels like he’s on the far side of a hill, but when he looks aroundat his accomplishments, they’re no more than they were ten years ago or twentyyears ago or… well, ever. He feels like this is as good as his life is going toget.

Mac’s panting starts to pick up again, and Dennis sets hispapers down and quirks an eyebrow at him. He opens his mouth to ask what’swrong, but before he can say anything, Mac is getting up off the bed.

“Wait, Mac, goddamn it, just-”

Dennis leans over to wrap his fingers around his arm and tughim back down.

“I don’t wanna bug you-”

“You’re not- I’m just…” -he realizes he’s snapping andlowers his voice- “going through some old shit.”

Mac glances at him over his shoulder, and his eyes are allglassy and distant, like he’s there, but he’s not really there, because he’sall up in his own fucking head.

“What’s all that stuff?” he mumbles.

With the distraction of Mac’s hyperventilating gone, Dennis suddenlyrealizes how ridiculous this must look. What sort of patheticman sits in bed and sorts through his forgotten junk from high school at twoin the morning?

“Here,” Dennis says rather than explaining, passing the box tohim.

Mac doesn’t question it- likely because he’s still too fuzzyto make fun of him- and starts digging. He flips through their yearbook and stopsto chuckle at a couple of stupid pictures while Dennis observes him in silence.Eventually, his muscles soften and his breath planes out as the tensionin his body unwinds.

A quiet sense of relief washes over Dennis as he watches Macreturn to reality.

That is, until he snorts and waves a tattered green notebookin his face.

“Bro, is this your diary?”

“It is not-” Dennis snatches it in his talons like abird scooping up a field mouse. “It is a journal, Mac. A boyish sort ofjournal, the kind young men keep!”

Mac rolls his eyes and huffs, and part of Dennis is thankfulhe’s acting like himself again, but the other part of him wants to shove himright off the edge of the bed.

“Well, can I read it?” he pesters.

Dennis clutches the dia- journal to his chest. “Absolutelynot.”

“Why not?”

“It’s personal.”

“What are you afraid of-”

“I am not afraid-”

“Then let me see it, dude!”

With a deep breath, in and out, Dennis takes a long momentto contemplate the situation. He certainly can’t hand the notebook over to Mac,it would be embarrassing- not because it’s a diary, but because he wasnowhere near the stallion he is today when he wrote it. To know of hisconquests now and look back on this… it would seem ridiculous in comparison.

Besides, there’s… there’s a lot of private stuff in there. Alot of stuff about his parents and Dee and Ms. Klinsky and… a lot of stuffabout Mac.

He comes up with a compromise.

“I will read you a couple of pages…” Dennis agrees, carefully,like he’s handling a spooked horse, “if you settle down.”

Mac zips his mouth shut, actually makes the motion with hishand like he’s a damned toddler, and cozies against the pillows.

He clears his throat and flips through ten or so pages, thefirst of which he’s dedicated and signed for some reason. Clearly, he assumed hisbelongings would be worth money at this point. The next few are allintroductory- no doubt describing himself as a lost, misunderstood soul wisebeyond his years and far too superior for the highs and lows of high school-which he was, but there’s no need to recount it aloud.

“All right, here we go.” Dennis zeroes in on an entry,prodding at it with his finger. “I skipped algebra today and got high withMac and Charlie. Is it really skipping, though, if you never intended to go?And who’s to say that living in the moment is less important than math? Ithink, if you show up to class every day, you’re skipping life.”

Mac snorts with laughter. “Who talks like that?”

“I thought it was profound, Mac, but if you’re going tointerrupt-”

“No, no, Dennis, I’m sorry!” he whines. “I won’t sayanything.”

Dennis pretends not to notice him scooting closer as he readson.

“Charlie came up with an idea for something he calledfinger-bread, but I think it was essentially just a bagel. He tried to do ademonstration and caught my shirt on fire. The whole sleeve burned before wecould put it out. He has no idea how much that shirt cost. Mac let meborrow his hoodie for the rest of the day, but it smelled like a pickup truck andthere was ash in the pockets. It was humiliating.”

“You never gave that back,” Mac chimes in.

“I’m certain I did,” Dennis lies through his teeth, rememberingall the nights he spent tucked away in it, using it as a pillow, throwing itover him like a blanket- because things were shitty at home and Mac was acomfort, because it smelled like cigarettes and gasoline, but cigarettes andgasoline smelled like Mac, so it didn’t bother him, “and if I didn’t, it’sbecause I burned the thing. It was absolutely repulsive. I mean, had you everwashed it?”

“You don’t wash jackets, Den. They don’t touch your skin.”

“It’s not about the skin, Mac, it’s-”

Dennis sighs and goes back to hunting for the next suitable entry. “Wouldyou be quiet?”

He skips the all-too-personal shit and reads the lighterpages, relating his teenage prose about staying home to take care of Dee whenshe had the flu, going to the movies with Schmitty and getting bored because hedidn’t want to talk in the theater, pointing out the flaws in his Englishteacher’s lecture and somehow ending up with detention, getting rejectedby a few potential homecoming dates… typical high school days. Mac interruptswith a laugh or a passing comment now and then- “I remember that” or“You were so lame!” or “I wonder what she’s doing now”, and his voicegets louder and more comfortable each time.

It all seems a bit trivial in hindsight (except for the bit abouthis English teacher, Dennis is still outraged by that), but it wasall big enough back then that he felt the need to write it out as soon as hegot home. He wishes he could go back to when getting high and listening toCharlie talk about some strange invention and obsessing over girls were the majorevents in his life.

Even a few years ago, things were still like that- but it’sall been so complicated lately…

Dennis feels Mac shuffle uncomfortably against his shoulderand wraps an arm around him, only because it’s irritating to have his headdigging into his arm. Absentmindedly, he works his fingers into the fabric ofMac’s sweatshirt as he flips the page.

“Dear dia-” He clears his throat and skips that line,and if Mac notices, he doesn’t say anything. “I have a problem. It’s aboutMac- of course it is.” Mac lets out a short grunt, but doesn’t complainlike Dennis expects him to, so he continues. “He’s pretty cool for a weeddealer. Actually, I think he’s probably my best friend.” Charlie was hisbest friend, too, though, and Schmitty was in the mix somewhere, as well… sothat’s not really as sappy as teenage Dennis made it sound. It didn’t mean muchof anything, really. “Sometimes when we hang out, just the two of us, it’slike everything else in the worlds sucks, but we’re going to be okay.”

Ah, shit.

Dennis doesn’t know why he keeps reading- it’s like tyinghis own noose tighter with every word- but he’s searching desperately for thepart where he finally complains about Mac and salvages this sentimental backwash.

“He brought over some whiskey he swiped from his dad’s oldshit and we got wasted last night, and I almost messed up really bad. We weresitting on the floor and it got quiet and I tried to…”

His throat closes up like he’s gone underwater, and hestops reading, but it’s too late to avoid it, because he’s already started tosay it. It’s like he’s balancing on the edge of a cliff, and if he breathesout, he’s going to topple one way or the other- and he doesn’t know which wayhe’s going to fall.

I tried to kiss him and it was totally stupid, but Ididn’t know how else to tell him I love him.

Dennis’ fingernails crinkle the edges of the page.

He needs to say something, anything. He needs to look over.He needs to come up with an explanation for himself before he’s completelymortified.

He stammers, “I’m- uh- it’s hard to read- the pencil-”

Mac snores thunderously in his ear and, somehow, it’s themost relieving sound Dennis has ever heard.

Phew.

Briefly, he considers stowing the journal away again-but he figures he’s gotten his fill of it, and it’s humiliating, anyhow- so hetosses it in the garbage can beside the bed. Good riddance.

Dennis glances over at what’s essentially a half-ton rhinosleeping against his shoulder, listens to his savage snoring, watches his eyelidstwitch, feels the rise and fall of his breathing against his hand. I don’tknow how else to tell him I love him echoes in his head, and he wants topretend that’s long-forgotten nonsense from his angsty teenage years, but heknows what he was trying to say.

He has trouble expressing his feelings like that. With Dee,it always bursts out of him at the worst times- and she always shuts him down.With his mother, I love you was such a habitual phrase that it lost itsmeaning eventually. With every woman he’s ever been with, it’s been an act,part of a system to get them into bed with him as easily as possible.

Dennis doesn’t know how to tell people what they mean to himuntil it’s too late. He doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings unless hecan write them off as part of some elaborate hoax.

Mac, on the other hand, simply blurts out whatever he’sthinking or feeling, all the time, constantly. It’s annoying, but Dennis sort of enviesit, though he’ll never admit to that. It’s so easy for Mac to love people so loudly. Dennis doesn’t think anyone’s ever loved himback, though.

At least, Mac doesn’t think anyone’s ever loved him back.

He sighs to himself and slips his arm free, getting up toturn off the light. On his way back to bed, he tosses a throw blanket over Mac.It’s a struggle to yank the covers out from under his elephant body, but Dennismanages to wriggle into them. He could wake Mac up and kick him out, or atleast shove at him to roll over further, but… it’s simply not worth thestruggle.

It’s good that he forgot about that night. It’s good that heburied it. It’ll be gone, again, in a week tops- stuffed deep down inside ofhim like everything else. He reminds himself that he was probably justplastered, that he might have confused Mac with someone else- and pretends hedoesn’t remember the way their legs brushed together as they sat on the carpet,the smell of cigarettes and whiskey on Mac’s lips every time he laughed, theway his hoodie felt wrapped around him, how everything- for one short moment,the kind of moment they play Air Supply songs over in the movies- everythingwas just Mac.

He gets weird on whiskey, Dennis reminds himself. He wasyoung and confused and whipping through puberty like a tornado. He would havedone the same with anyone. It meant nothing then and it means nothing now.

… He’s not sure who he’s arguing with.

Rolling to his other side, he waits for his eyes to adjustand watches Mac sleep. His sloppy, uncomfortable position doesn’t seem tobother him any, and his mouth has dropped open so his snoring can reallyecho through the room.

He doesn’t know what Mac was so anxious about earlier, buthe seems all right now- if only because he’s passed out. It was probably justsome stupid, shitty nightmare.

Dennis reaches out and pulls the blanket up around Mac’sshoulder to keep him from having another one.

Before he drifts off to sleep, he thinks that, maybe, this isn’tas good as it gets. Maybe there’s still one thing left in his future.

#i promise this gets silly eventually #also this will probably be my last prompt for the rest of the month cause i've got a long one i wanna finish before s14 #it's always sunny in philadelphia #it's always sunny #iasip #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #macdennis #fics #my writing #asks #anon #yeah sorry if there are typos i didn't do a final walkthrough

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40ozandsober · 5 years

Text

Bottom of a Swimming Pool

ch 2; You Remind Me of Home

— A/N —

general tw + tw for m*lestation mention!! heavily implicated, with no direct details. be careful <3

— END OF A/N —

— Childhood Flashbacks: Age 13 —

When Charlie was 13, his mom was running out of money quickly. She wasn’t making enough from the men who would come visit their house every week and she just needed help paying the rent for a little bit. Because of this, Bonnie let her brother, Jack, rent out the guest bedroom in her house. Uncle Jack made Charlie uncomfortable and he found himself unable to sleep most nights, because he never knew if Jack was going to come to his room. Some nights Jack did, and those were the worst of all. Charlie tried telling his mom, but Bonnie didn’t listen, so Charlie was stuck.

Charlie didn’t know how to talk to Mac about it. He knew they were best friends and would help each other through everything, but he didn’t know how he was going to say the horrible things he had been through. All he told Mac was that he couldn’t handle sleeping at his house anymore and Mac immediately made an important decision.

“Mom, my friend Charlie is gonna start spending the night a lot. Is that okay?” Mac asked his mom one morning before school, even though she was drunk and probably wouldn’t even remember the conversation.

“I don’t give a shit,” Mrs. Mac mumbled, groaning. Mac took that as a yes and told Charlie the very same day that he could pack up some clothes, bring a toothbrush, and stay at his house as long as he wanted.

“Thanks, man. I just.. I don’t want to go home anymore. I can’t.” Charlie was tearing up, which automatically rubbed Mac the wrong way. He knew something was wrong at Charlie’s house, but he just couldn’t get Charlie to tell him what. He knew not to push the boy anymore and just accepted that he didn’t fully understand what was happening.

The next day, Charlie spent the night at Mac’s house. He stayed there for a week at a time typically, then spent a night at his own house so his mom didn’t get worried. This cycle repeated for a long time. The only downside to it was Charlie’s nightmares.

It took awhile for Mac to get used to the screaming, whimpering, and crying Charlie did during his sleep. Charlie would sob, wake Mac up yelling, and scream for hours sometimes. Mac didn’t know how to make it stop, but one morning he finally told Charlie about it waking him up some nights.

When Mac was making breakfast for the two of them, Charlie walked in and sat down. “Hey buddy. Can we talk?” Mac asked, which immediately made Charlie’s blood run cold. He was used to losing people in his life or being hurt by those he loved, but he never wanted Mac to be one of those people.

“Sure, did I do something?” Charlie stammered out, riddled with anxiety already.

“No, not at all. You’re good, bro. I just wanted to talk to you about your nightmares.” Mac explained. Somehow, that made Charlie even more anxious. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell Mac what his uncle had done to him for many nights, but maybe it was time.

He started to reply to Mac, but Mac continued on. “You don’t have to tell me everything about them and what happens in them. You don’t even have to tell me why they happen. It’s okay, I understand how tough things can be. I just wanted to tell you that when you have them, if they wake you up and you can’t go back to sleep or feel scared and upset, wake me up. Please.”

Charlie didn’t really know what to say to that. Nobody had ever cared for him the way Mac cared for him, so this was uncharted territory for him. Instead of saying anything back, he just nodded his head. Mac knew what that meant from him, so he dropped the subject. They ate their breakfast, got ready for school, and got on the bus. Charlie prepared himself for the mean comments about his lack of self hygiene while Mac prepared himself to fight the kids being rude to his best friend. Just like every day.

All they ever needed was each other. Mac protected Charlie, Charlie protected Mac. They were the only people that mattered.

A few weeks after they had that conversation, Mac woke up by being shaken vigorously. Charlie was crying, more than Mac had ever seen. He was panting, like he couldn’t catch his breath, and Mac immediately jumped to protection mode.

“Charlie? Charlie, buddy. You’re okay. What’s wrong? What happened?” Mac rushed out, and Charlie tried to stop sobbing, tried being the key term. He just kept crying and shaking. Mac went to hug Charlie and hold him, and the boy backed away quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Mac said softly, but Charlie shut him up by moving in closer.

“I need a hug. A Mac hug. That’s all.” Charlie sniffled. It was hard for him to accept physical affection, but he knew he could trust his best friend.

Mac didn’t even reply. He just wrapped his arms around Charlie and held tightly. Something was different about this hug. Something was softer about Charlie, warmer about Mac.

Mac moved his arms a little bit and laid back, letting Charlie relax and lay on him. One of Mac’s hands found its way in Charlie’s hair and played with it softly. It was weird. Mac thought Charlie’s hair would be oily and tough, but it was the exact opposite.

They laid like that for a little bit, until Charlie began to talk. “Can I tell you something? I think I’m ready to talk about it.” The boy asked Mac, to which Mac nodded his head softly.

Charlie spent the rest of the night recounting everything that had happened to him in his bedroom when his mom went to bed. Mac didn’t judge him and he didn’t accuse him of lying. He just sat there and listened, despite the fact that his blood was boiling at the idea of somebody hurting Charlie.

All Mac wanted to do was protect his favorite person in the whole world, and he hadn’t been doing that, but he was now, by not letting Charlie go home anymore. Charlie was safe. Mac was going to protect him and keep him safe from Jack, forever and always.

— End of Flashback: 29 Years Later —

Charlie woke up from a really terrible nightmare. He didn’t have them often anymore, but sometimes he couldn’t help but dream of things that had happened to him when he was younger. He knew he was safe from everything now, but God, sometimes the dreams were so realistic. Normally, he could pick one thing in the nightmares that was completely fake and different from real life, so he could separate himself from it entirely. The nightmare he had just had, though, was completely true to real life.

It had been a long time since he had had to call Mac about a nightmare, but this one was something he just couldn’t handle by himself. Of course, Mac answered the phone and immediately offered to use Dennis’s car to come pick him up, so they could hang out.

Less than half an hour later, Mac was at Charlie’s apartment. As soon as Charlie walked out his apartment and locked the door shut behind him, Mac engulfed him in a massive hug. Charlie’s body was tiny compared to Mac’s, so when they hugged, it made Charlie giggle a little, which Mac adored.

Neither of them really spoke about how they felt when they were together, because there was no need anymore. They both knew the truth about what was going on between them, but neither of them ever mentioned it.

Mac had finally come out and began to accept himself as gay, whereas Charlie had always known he liked men and women. It was hard for Charlie to be with either, especially sexually, because of his being transgender, but with Mac, it was different.

Mac drove them back to his apartment and they went into his room, laying down, finally able to relax. Charlie cuddled up against Mac, Mac’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m tired of thinking about it. I just want to lie here with you.” Charlie responded, turning his body around to face Mac. He slowly moved his hand to Mac’s hair, kissing him on the forehead.

It had taken Mac awhile to be okay with kissing when they were sober. They still hadn’t gone any further than cuddling and kissing sometimes, but sometimes Mac thought about it. He knew he wanted Charlie, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready, especially to do anything while sober. Mac knew he was gay, he had known that his whole life, but it was taking longer for him to actually act on it.

Charlie understood that, of course. If anybody understood not being ready for romantic and physical affection, it was him. Neither of them pushed one another, and that was sort of what made it perfect. Regardless, they enjoyed their time together.

Mac held onto Charlie and kissed him softly, mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that?” Charlie asked.

“Nothin’. Mind your business.” Mac replied, smiling at his best friend. Charlie knew what Mac had said, but neither of them were willing to admit how they felt. “I love you” was too real to be said yet, and both of them understood that. The feeling was mutual, though. It had taken years for them to realize it fully, but they knew now.

They fell asleep like that, in each other’s arms. When Mac woke up, he made sure to be careful and not wake Charlie up. He went into the living room, where Dennis was already awake, watching TV.

“You guys need to stop fucking at our apartment,” Dennis chuckled, knowing it would piss Mac off. Mac hated how Dennis joked about their lives, but he couldn’t tell him that. He had gotten used to Dennis’s gross comments, but sometimes, it made him angry for Charlie.

He didn’t appreciate people mentioning sex about Charlie. It rubbed him the wrong way, but instead of getting mad, he just went and made breakfast.

Sometimes, Mac just wished Dennis would stop. Dennis seemed jealous of Charlie, almost, which made no sense to Mac. Because of his past with Den, he didn’t think he was even into him, but maybe that wasn’t true. Mac didn’t know. Maybe he just didn’t want to know.

He hated what he had done to Charlie in the past when it came to Dennis, so he didn’t think he even cared about what Den thought now. He just wanted to be happy with Charlie. That was all he really wanted from the world now. Dennis had messed up his relationship with Charlie in the past, but he’d never allow that to happen again.

Charlie had woken up and smiled at Mac who was busy making pancakes. Mac wasn’t the best cook, so many of the pancakes ended up burnt and in the trash, but Charlie enjoyed the thought that went into it. They ate their breakfast, then got ready for work.

Charlie kissed Mac one last time before they left the apartment, knowing they couldn’t do it again until they had left Paddy’s that night. Dennis might have made jokes about Charlie and Mac being together, but the two of them still hadn’t confirmed it to the gang. They didn't know how to fully tell the other three.

Of course, they all knew, just based off the longing looks that passed between Charlie and Mac at Paddy’s and when the gang worked on their numerous schemes, but the couple was afraid to fully come out and just say it. That would take awhile for them to admit, and it was tougher than they thought it would be.

Charlie hated having to hide it. He felt inadequate, but he knew it was a senseless fear of abandonment and betrayal that stemmed from his past that made him overthink it.

He never told Mac how it made him feel, because he didn’t want to push the love of his life away. He just glanced at Mac throughout the day, a glimmer of hope and absolute adoration in his eye. Then, when they were alone, they’d kiss and cuddle for hours on end, or until they had to be around others again. Maybe one day, they could be open about their relationship.

Charlie just stayed by Mac’s side and waited for that day to come. He would wait forever if he needed to, because Charlie knew what he wanted forever. All he wanted was Mac. It had always been Mac.

#charmac #iasip #mac iasip #macdennis #mac mcdonald #charlie kelly #trans!charlie #trans charlie kelly #its always sunny #its always sunny in philadelphia #40ozoffanfic

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lesbianfreyja · 5 years

Note

wait I didn’t scroll far enough....41 and/or 61 too 👀

and 2 more 41s requested by anons!!! endless 41s!!!!!! so, by popular demand:

41. I’m not drunk enough for this.

+ 61. I told you not to fall in love with me.

Mac kicked his feet at himunder the table. Dennis trapped one of Mac’s wandering ankles between both hisown. Mac twisted it around unsuccessfully for a minute before yanking it free,glowering fiercely.

“Time to behave, you stupidasshole,” Dennis muttered, under the guise of a very bright smile. “This iswhat we’ve been training for. Don’t ruin it with a hissy fit.”

“I’m not having a — I don’thave fits, Dennis,” said Mac, frowninginto his coffee. “I’m just pissed off that they don’t have blueberry pancakes.They said they got their fruits fresh every morning on the website!”

“Well, tough titties,” saidDennis. “Life isn’t always like it says on the internet, okay? Now behave. Yourpouting is ruining our whole married vibe that we’re trying to put out there.You’re gonna blow this for us, and then we don’t have anything else to do for twomore hours.”

“Why did Dee have to meet withthose surrogate bitches in the afternoon?”

Mac stabbed at thecomplimentary granola and yogurt with the business end of his spoon. Dennis hadpreviously not been aware that somebody could eat breakfast with this level ofsulk, but then he had never met someone stupid enough to say no when Mac askedfor blueberry pancakes.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s good practice,”said Dennis airily. “Now we have some extra time to get into our roles, right?”

He waved his napkin out as heunwrapped his utensils and smoothed it over his lap. Mac had his crumpled inhis fist, although he was still using his arm to wipe off his face anyway wheneverthe outside of his mouth got stained with coffee. In an effort to keep itoccupied so as to force him to use the napkin, Dennis reached out and took Mac’sfree hand firmly over the table. He smiled a bit softly, squeezing his hand. Macrolled his eyes.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,”he mumbled. Looking around, he flagged down their waiter and ordered a shot ofKahlua for his coffee.

“Jesus Christ, you are bad at this,” said Dennis after their waiter walkedaway.

“What?” said Mac. “You loveKahlua in your coffee.”

“Yes, I do,” Dennis agreed. “But I don’t really take Vic and Hugh for themorning drinker types, do you?”

“Oh, right.” Mac frowned into hisblack coffee. “Sorry, Dennis.”

Dennis rolled his eyes.

“How many times do I have totell you?” he asked, squeezing Mac’s hand again for emphasis. “The whole pointof this is to settle into our personas, Vic.I’d appreciate it if you would call me by my correct name.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Hugh.”

Dennis sighed and broke into someof the toast on his plate. It was crazy how much better he was at acting thanMac, but at least now he was trying. He let go of Mac’s hand to reach for aknife.

“Can you pass me the butter?”

“Sure thing, babe.”

Dennis started to mumble his thanks,then did a double-take. Mac was grinning at him across the table, and after asecond Dennis’s hackles went back down and he reluctantly smiled.

“That’s more like it,” hemurmured, spreading the butter out on his toast.

Mac was still smiling goofilyat him, no matter how much Dennis snapped at him to stop, when the waiter returnedwith the Kahlua. Even though he gave Mac shit for it earlier, spiked coffee didsound good. He grabbed it off the table before Mac could make a move for it, thenpoured a generous amount into both of their cups.

“What are you doing?” asked Mac,but he didn’t sound angry with him for having the bottle snatched away from hiscontrol, just surprised. He leaned back in his seat to avoid the splash zone.

“Treating my husband tobreakfast,” said Dennis lightly. He kept his eyes trained on the Kahlua as heset it back down on a flat surface, but pink was rising in his cheeks and hecould feel Mac’s widened eyes on him. Dennis looked up — bravely, he felt, andwith a stoic face to boot. “I believe this is how Hugh Honey acts when he’s outwith his, uh—”

“Trophy husband,” Mac supplied.Dennis flushed but couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little.

“Right,” mumbled Dennis,ducking his head back down.

He didn’t usually like coffeethis strong, but he had the urge to chug it all back at once. The cup wasmostly empty when the waiter finally came by with their food, and he declined arefill. When he next looked up, Mac was already wolfing down his (tragicallyplain) pancakes with alarming and unattractive speed; Dennis sniffed and pokedhis fork around his scrambled eggs, looking around for Tabasco to steal from anearby table.

“Can I have a bite of that?”Mac asked as soon as he’d doused it, and his fork prodded its way into Dennis’sview. He looked up to see Mac watching him with an open expression and hashbrown in his teeth.

“No way,” said Dennis, edging Mac’sfork out of the way with his own. “After you had a meltdown over blueberriesearlier and called me a stupid bitch for wanting eggs?”

“Aw, come on,” said Mac. “Hugh wouldtotally give me some eggs, bro.”

Dennis’s eyes narrowed as theystared each other down across the table. With a sigh, Dennis stopped blockinghim and pushed his plate over.

“Goddamn it,” he sighed. “That’sa good point.”

“Ha!” said Mac, stabbing whatappeared to be half the plate onto his tines and shoving it all in his puffycheeks. “This is exactly what you were talking about, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember, Hugh?” he asked,looking up at him. His eyes were wide and bright, sparking; Dennis felt heatcrawl across the back of his neck, and he was glad he was wearing a polo shirtto cover it up. He kept his face impassive, but Mac was leaning forward eagerlyanyway. “It’s like you said on our first date. When you finally wore me downafter asking for, like, months.”

Dennis arched an eyebrow,amused.

“Is that what happened?” he askedmildly.

“Oh yeah, bro! Of course youwere putting the moves on me. But you’re kinda charming, so eventually I saidyes.” Mac rolled his eyes. “Back then you were just a lonely billionaire with adream, but I was the working classguy with the background in real estate helping you get your business off theground. You were, like, immediately hittingon me, dude. Just like always. So anyway, finally I went out with you, and I wasannoyed because of how much walkingthere turned out to be in golf! And you said—”

When Dennis was a junior incollege, Mac came up to visit for a weekend. For once, he’d been without Charlie,who had had plans — or maybe he’d been sleeping, or too stoned to show up, or justhadn’t felt like it. Dennis couldn’t remember anymore; it hadn’t beenimportant, even at the time. Mac had shown up at his door with some prettypotent LSD, and they’d trekked into the woods off-campus while it melted ontheir tongue until it kicked in, and they’d spent hours getting lost out there.

Mac was still antsy when they startedcoming down, and they cleaned up and ordered food, but he didn’t want to staycooped up any later than it took to down a big order of wings. Dennis drove them to afair a little ways out of town, and they spent hours riding everything there,in between sneaking into the drinks tent to get wasted; Dennis threw up on thetilt-a-whirl, and Mac had to spend the last of his pocket money on ginger ale. Whenthey were sitting on a park bench, waiting for Dennis’s stomach to settle, Mac gotfrustrated and he asked, “You know you’re a real fucking expensive date, huh?”and he didn’t mean it that way but Dennis was still feeling a little off-kilterfrom the LSD and the beer and he smirked up at Mac and said—

“I told you not to fall in lovewith me,” Dennis murmured. It came a little bit mechanically. He coughed. “Vic.”

His throat felt closed up, andhe couldn’t even bring himself to get angry at Mac for throwing in details oftheir fake marriage that they hadn’t previously agreed on. Hugh and Vic’s firstdate was supposed to have been to a wine tasting in Napa Valley. He was alittle surprised, that was all, that Mac remembered something that had happenedthat long ago on a day where he hadn’t been sober. And that maybe he thoughtabout the same way that Dennis did.

Dennis swallowed, pushing thatthought away, but he looked at him with his lips parted. Mac was fixated on hisbrunch again, though, and not paying him any mind; but a small smile was stillplaying on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” said Mac,digging back into his food.

Something was glowing rose-goldin Dennis’s chest as he stilled. He just watched Mac eat for a long moment,barely reacting to the sticky mess he was making or what he was talking about. Atsome point, Mac glanced up with his mouth still full and caught him in the act.Dennis bit his lip, and Mac only missed a beat before he kicked Dennis in theankle again.

“Get eating,” he instructed. “We’veonly got two hours to make it downtown and we still have to catch a bus.”

Mac understood him most of thetime, fundamentally. He knew what not to mention and when to divert a conversation.Maybe it was just his bossiness flaring up in him, wanting the attention and todomineer the conversation, but whatever it was Dennis felt grateful.

Hiding his own warm smile — strangeand terrifying and also the most natural and familiar thing in the world — Denniswent back to his brunch.

#i promise i'll do the other numbers in these asks too sdkljkldjs but yea #honeyv fics never die!!!!#you could also technically read this as a warmup for a bigger thing im doing so wigg #they were banging in season 5 #glirsty #hyruling #ask #drabble tag #iasip fic #fic #fic stuff #iasip #mac x dennis

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borderlinedennisr · 5 years

Text

dennis and artemis make a deal

cw: self-harm, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse

The bar is empty when Artemis walks in, which is a bit surprising because they’re all usually pretty good at locking up, and the lights are still on. She walks forward slowly and notice that the door to the back office is slightly ajar.

“Hello?” she says.

Nobody answers. Unafraid, she throws the door all the way open. What she finds inside isn’t at all pretty.

Dennis, outrageously drunk and impressively out of it, the skin on his forearms torn to shreds and still bleeding. On the desk is an overturned bottle of pills — ones she recognizes as the mood stabilizers Dee told her about a couple years back.

Dennis is conscious and alert enough, so she squats down in front him.

“Dennis,” she says, and then puts it bluntly, “Is this what it looks like?”

Dennis sighs, closes his eyes, and leans his back against the wall. Artemis gently takes the bottle of vodka from his hand.

“I only had like five doses left,” he croaks. Slowly, he opens his eyes again. Artemis, now straddling him, noticed how bloodshot they are. “Not enough to do anything. But I took them all anyway.”

“Are they SSRIs?” she asks.

“No,” Dennis answers. “It’s lithium.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says after a moment. “You start vomiting or convulsing, I’m taking you to the hospital, sound good?”

Dennis breathes out a single laugh. “I can deal with that.”

“In the meantime, I can make some coffee and wait for you to sober up.”

Dennis lets his eyes flutter shut. A small, almost inaudible pained groan escapes his throat. “You make the coffee, I’ll drink it.”

“Sweet. Before that, though — I’m gonna bandage up your arms.”

Dennis gives an irritated whine.

“Yeah, well, I already know that there’s a first aid kit in the right bottom drawer, so it’s happening.”

She pulls it out carefully, trying not to make too much noise. Dennis has pulled himself upward a bit when Artemis returns. She kneels down next to him and takes his right arm. There are far less cuts on this one. Dennis seems to favor his left arm too.

“Hey, we made pact,” she remembers.

Dennis coughs out a couple laughs.

“Artemis, that was like ten years ago.”

“Eight,” she corrects him.

“How long have you been clean?” Dennis asks. Her gentle fingers are smoothing antibiotic ointment on his wounds.

“Eleven months,” she answers.

What she expects is for him to call her out, but he doesn’t. He gives a satisfied hum and a smirk. “Good for you, Artemis.”

“It’s fucking hard work,” she sighs. She’s careful not to pull too hard on the gauze as she wraps it.

“I know it is,” Dennis replies. “It’s too fucking hard.”

Artemis doesn’t say anything. She stays silent as she wraps his left arm. She hasn’t seen Dennis much since he got back. He stays home a lot, according to Dee.

She always knew Charlie the best, of course, then Frank, then Dee. She liked Mac, and he was fun to get drunk with. But he was an open book, and it annoyed her. Dennis is the opposite. He keeps everything hidden. Or tried to. Scars are hard to hide when you get naked. Things were so much simpler in their twenties.

Without a word, Artemis stands up and turns to the coffee pot. She prepares a pot and starts the brewing process. She turns back to see Dennis has hauled himself into the desk chair.

“This shit fucking terrifies your sister, you know that?”

Dennis blinks one eye open.

“Is this some kind of guilt trip because you’re lowkey banging her?”

Artemis glares at him.

“You’re an idiot, Dennis.”

He ignores that and continues on. “Besides, I don’t know why she cares. No one else cares.”

“Do you care about her?”

Dennis thinks about a few years back. When shit was fucked and Dee stepped in front of a bus. He was terrified too.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“There ya go,” Artemis says.

“Also you’re fucking stupid for thinking no one else cares. I’ve been thinking about changing my number so Mac stops texting me. You’re a pain in my ass, Dennis Reynolds.”

The coffee pot hisses out the last of liquid and Artemis rounds up two mugs. She pours coffee into both and takes to the desk. She collapses into the seat across from him and shoves his mug at him. He takes it and throws back a heavy drink.

“You ever going to tell anyone what happened while you were gone?”

Dennis stiffens. “No. It’s not anybody’s business.”

“I don’t give a shit what you did. You don’t have to tell me. But I think you want to tell someone. Just to get it off your chest.”

Dennis keeps precariously still for a long moment. Artemis thinks he might slip into a breakdown or a rage, but he doesn’t. He just takes a deep breath and smiles. “What kind of fucking magic bullshit are you into these days? Just pull shit like that out of my head.”

Artemis gives him a sad smile. She takes a drink of her coffee —- to give herself more time to think about what she wants to say.

“Dennis.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“You know that you need help, right? Like, serious help.”

He takes another long drink. “Yeah, I know happy people don’t cut their wrists.”

“Happy?” Artemis asks “Dennis, I haven’t seen you at a neutral in years, let alone happy. You used to be so fucking angry, but now you’re just - “ She looks at him, really looks at him for a moment. “Lifeless. Like the sex doll.”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, don’t bring that up.

She tries to hide a smirk. “I’m serious though, Dennis. You and I don’t really talk anymore. We haven’t in, fuck — years. So I hear everything secondhand. But your friends are blabber mouths and I’m a spider, so I know everything. And you need help, Dennis.”

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees. “I’m not really good at it.”

“You think I am? Why do you think, I’m stoned all the time, Dennis? Life sucks, and staying alive is hard, but - you might as well fucking enjoy it. I got a therapist while you were gone who I like a lot, mostly because she rejected all my sexual advances, and I’m impressed. You’re smart, Dennis. You know one would help.”

He rubs a hand over his face several times. “I’m scared,” he admits.

“We all are,” Artemis says simply. She pulls a joint from her pocket and lights it. “I’ll make you a deal,” she says again.

Dennis puts a palm out, waiting for her to pass. “What is it?”

“Next time you feel like half-assedly and jankily trying to kill yourself, come to my place and smoke a J and sober up with me.”

She places the joint between his fingertips.

“Deal.”

He inhales.

#dee reynolds #artemis #bg macdennis #bg deeartmis #implied past dennis/artemis #fic #fanfiction #dennis angst

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sensitiveintellectualtype · 6 years

Text

i just realized i can force all my terrible sunny posts on you guys instead of my friends who are probably sick of this shit by now so:

Hey Guys What If Always Sunny Was A Sincere And Gay 90s Sitcom Based On Billy Joel’s “Scenes From An Italian Restaurant”?

dennis and dee never really become friends with mac and charlie because dennis is actually quasi popular, or at least, repressed and liked enough that his delusions of grandeur seem less delusional.

like they all knew each other, they got on well enough (they got on like a city block on fire) but dennis would have been the glue and he just didn’t hang around enough

because, a la “the ballad of brenda and eddie”, dennis keeps dating maureen through college and marries her right after, which is when, again, brenda and eddie, things go to hell

they’re not the king and the queen of the prom per say, but “Brenda you know that you're much too lazy / And Eddie could never afford to live that kind of life” is on the money

(obviously brenda is dennis and eddie is maureen)

(they do get a divorce as a matter of course but do not part the closest of friends)

MEANWHILE dee gets a job at a bar and is always complaining to dennis about it. dennis is NOT listening because he’s tired and maureen is crazy and he is crazier

but then dee is in the middle of saying “and ronnie the goddamn rat won’t let anyone play anything on the jukebox that isn’t springsteen—” and dennis goes “??? wait what” THAT’S RIGHT mac and charlie still bought paddy’s! i’m so proud of them

so dennis is like “no fucking way are those idiots your boss” and the second section of the song kicks in and dennis starts hanging around and all the half memories come back and The Gang Is Born

“Cold beer, hot lights / My sweet romantic teenage nights” and so on

“Engineer boots, leather jackets / And tight blue jeans” is, unfortunately, a very mac look

and then also it comes up one night, after mac is left to close up and dennis is just... there, because that’s what he does now when he’s not busy getting divorced, and some song comes up on the jukebox that dee (that sneaky bitch) put on before she left, and it’s some song they used to listen to all the time, and one of them accidentally brings up the fact that they almost kissed that one time and then this time they DO kiss

“Oh, you drop a dime in the box / Play the song about New Orleans”

“We lost touch long ago / You lost weight / I did not know / You could ever look so nice / After so much time” is, again, unfortunately also very much about mac

it’s like cheers meets friends but then its also gay

and idk the frame narrative is, like, first monthly dinner and a flashback to the one time they almost became actual friends in high school when dennis gets roped into some disastrous scheme mac and charlie cooked up and they’re in the alley and almost kiss and then charlie bursts out the door covered in lobsters or something

“We'll get a table near the street / In our old familiar place / You and I, face to face”

thus concludes my ted talk, “what if sunny was a cheesy gay 90s sitcom”, or: Scenes from Guigino’s

#robert if you read this do NOT at me #text #i was gonna get specific and replace the levittown ny diner in the song with one in levittown pa but then i realized it would have to be #the one i went to as a kid all the time with my grandma where i always played this song on the jukebox #so that was a bit too meta even for my tastes #tune in next week for my long post about how every song on live through this by hole and exile in guyville by liz phair are all about dennis

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alwayssunnyprompts · 6 years

Note

Always Sunny Prompt - Mac is the only person allowed to take care of Dennis. Dennis gets sick or injured, and he whines for Mac the entire time. Of course, Mac shows up and makes everything better.

I absolutely loved writing this! It broke my heart a little bit, but I loved it. This also turned out so much more emotional and serious (and longer) than I thought it would be. Enjoy injured, delirious Dennis and Mac helping him through it.

There’s a sickening, wet crunch as Dennis’s ankle twists and slips off the corner of the bar before he hits the floor, unable to even attempt to regain his balance before crumpling there unceremoniously. Dee runs from the back office at the noise, confusion and worry coloring her face.

“What the hell, Dennis? Are you okay?”

He’s struggling to sit up, his face white as a sheet and a small cut on his forehead leaking blood. He cries out when he tries to move, his breathing getting frantic as he lifts the hem of his jeans to look at his ankle. Dee can already see that his foot is bent at a weird angle, so it’s probably broken. His eyes close and for a second, he looks like he’s about to black out. Her heart is galloping in her chest.

“Shit, Dennis, that looks bad. Does it hurt?” She inches closer, like she’s approaching a wounded animal, her hands out in front of her so he doesn’t get more anxious.

“Of course it hurts, you stupid bitch!” He yells, but it’s hysteria in his voice, not anger.

“Goddamn you, Dee, I told you that Charlie wasn’t cleaning up there, but you didn’t give a shit, so I have to do everything my goddamn self. And now—” he gestures wildly toward his leg, really getting a good look at it for the first time. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

All the color has drains from his face and his hand clutches at his leg. His breathing is labored and heavy. He’s starting to space out, his eyes going glassy.

Dee can tell he’s about to cry.

“I’m sorry, Dennis, but you have to try and breathe, okay?” She crouches in front of him, rests a measured hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently.

“I can’t,” he chokes out, “Dee, it hurts. Shit. Oh god—” he gasps, coughing as he struggles to breathe through the pain and panic. His rage leaves as quickly as it came, and she can see him realizing how bad it is, starting to spiral. Shit.

“I can’t breathe,” a heave turns into a shuddering sob, and tears start pouring down his face as he hyperventilates.

Dee sits down on the floor next to him, running her hand over his back. She’s used to doing this for him, but it’s been a long time since she’s had to try and calm a panic attack, and she’s definitely never had to do it while he had a broken ankle.

“Dee, I can’t breathe,” he’s staring ahead at nothing, wheezing.

“You can. I’m telling you it’s just a panic attack. We know how to deal with this, right?”

Well, maybe not this exact situation, but she decides that if there was ever a time to sugarcoat things it’s right goddamn now.

“Where’s Mac?” He whimpers, grabbing clumsily at Dee’s arm.

“Dennis, you know where Mac is. He’s out filming his stupid videos, remember? He’ll be back soon, okay? Look at me.”

He doesn’t.

“Oh Jesus,” she grabs his face and turns it to look up at her, “Dennis. Listen to my voice. Try to match my breathing, okay? In and out, you know the drill.”

She takes deep, measured breaths, exaggerating how loud they are so he can hear through the crying.

“Dennis, I know you’re scared, but Mac will be back soon. Okay? I think we have to take you to the hospital, that ankle looks pretty screwed up.”

His eyes widen, and he rips her hand away from his face, trying and failing to move away from her. The movement jostles his leg and he stifles a scream by bringing his hand to his mouth, more tears pouring from his eyes.

“No.”

“Dennis, you’re a grown man. This is serious.” She tries to reason with him, but she can tell that he’s too delirious with pain and fear to act rationally.

“I’m cold.”

“What?”

“Dee, I’m cold.”

She can see him shivering through the tension in his muscles and goes and grabs the blanket Charlie keeps behind the bar. She wraps it around him, careful of his leg, and sits back down.

“Where’s Mac?” He says again, suddenly, like Mac is somehow just going to appear if he keeps asking about him. She can’t tell if he genuinely forgot their conversation from a few minutes ago, or if he’s just so out of his mind with pain and shock that all he can think about is wanting Mac. Either way, the confusion and cloudiness in his eyes worries her. Maybe he’s more hurt than she thought.

Her eyes move to the cut on his forehead, still bleeding sluggishly.

“Dennis, he’s out. Filming videos. We just talked about this, you remember?”

She speaks slowly and clearly, looking him straight in the eye.

“I… don’t know. Dee, I don’t know. Maybe? I, I don’t—” his breath hitches again, and he looks terrified.

“Dennis,” she says his name clearly and evenly, even though she’s sure some of his anxiety is rubbing off on her, “It’s okay. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m gonna call him, okay?”

He whimpers again, nodding. His chest is rising desperately as he tries to get some air into his lungs. His hand is still firmly white-knuckling his leg.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, hastily pressing Mac’s name on speed dial. She’s almost starting to think he won’t answer when he picks up on the fifth ring.

“What do you want, Dee?” His voice is tinny, and his reception is shit. “I’m busy.”

“First of all, screw you, Mac. But this is serious, okay?”

He gets quiet.

“I’m listening,” he responds, quieter and more focused, “what is it?”

Her eyes stay locked on her brother.

“Dennis, um…fell off the bar. And he hurt himself. It’s bad, Mac. His ankle is definitely broken, and I think he might have a concussion too,” she lowers her voice, “and he’s absolutely terrified. He’s having a panic attack and he keeps asking for you. I can’t calm him down because he’s so damn delirious, and I can’t move him on my own anyway. I think you should come back here.”

She doesn’t realize how stressful the situation is until she says it, and her hands are shaking as she tries to keep the phone steady.

“Goddamnit,” Mac breathes, all traces of humor gone from his voice, “let me talk to him?”

“Sure.” She takes the phone from her ear and presses the button.

“Dennis, Mac’s on the phone. I’ll hold it for you.”

“Mac?”

“Den, can you hear me?”

“Mac,” he whispers again, and Dee can tell that just hearing his voice is enough to put some part of Dennis at ease.

“Can you hear me?” Mac tries again, his voice even.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his voice shot.

“Good. Try to breathe, buddy. Come on, with me. In, and out.”

Dennis’s breath stutters as he tries, interrupted by a frustrated sob.

“It’s okay, you’re doing so good. Keep trying for me and Dee. It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m on my way there right now.”

“Mac, it hurts.”

“I know, Den, I know. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be there soon, and we’ll get you some help, okay?”

“Mac?”

“Yeah, honey?”

Dee freezes for a minute, forgetting the situation. That’s a new one.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But you’re gonna be okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and we’ll figure it out. Sound good?”

His voice is more gentle and sincere than Dee’s ever heard it sound before.

“Okay.” Dennis still sounds horrible; his eyes are bloodshot, and his face is gray-white, and his jaw is clench with pain as he tries to stifle his crying. But his voice comes a little easier, less choked.

“Dennis, I love you,” he says sincerely.

Dee feels her eyes widen at the shock of the emotional whiplash as she struggles to keep her facial expression neutral.

Dennis takes a shuddering breath and clears his throat, still trying to calm down.

“I love you, too, Mac. Hurry?”

“I’m already on my way. I’ve got to drive. Give the phone back to Dee?”

Dennis looks at her, gesturing at the phone with a knowing expression. She takes the phone off speaker and lifts it to her hear, still trying to process what she just witnessed, and the fact that Dennis doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. Maybe it’s the shock.

“Mac?” She forces her tone to be neutral.

“Dee, I’ll be there in twenty. I told him fifteen, so he’d calm down, but there’s traffic downtown. I’m driving like a goddamn maniac though. Be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she responds, “Thanks, Mac. Don’t drive too crazy though, I’ve dealt with enough bullshit injuries today. Be safe.”

“Don’t thank me, and I will be.” He hangs up.

She lets her phone drop to the floor.

Dennis looks a little calmer. She hopes that it’s because of the panic attack calming down and not because of the shock. She decides to keep him talking.

“Hey, Den?”

“Hm?” He sounds distracted, but his breathing is still shallow.

She starts rubbing his back again, a little more forcefully than before, trying to keep him grounded.

“So…what’s up with you and Mac?”

As far as conversation topics went, it was probably the worst choice she could have made at that moment, but if anything would get him talking, it’d be this.

“W-what do you mean? We’re fine.”

“I don’t mean you’re arguing. I mean you seem very…close…these days.”

“He’s my best friend.” Dennis says softly, “Of course we’re close, you dumb bitch.” There isn’t any venom in his words. He sounds spaced out, but honest.

It’s almost endearing.

She nods at him, trying to encourage him to keep talking.

“I think I’m in love with him, Dee.”

He says it with such delirious sincerity that it would’ve been absolutely hilarious if she wasn’t trying to keep him from passing out from shock.

“Dennis you just told him you loved him on the phone, did you forget that I heard that?”

“Oh. I didn’t even think about that.” He chuckles softly.

“I mean, Dennis, to be honest, it’s sort of obvious to everyone except you and—oh shit—”

She catches him as he starts to slump forward, his eyes nearly rolling shut.

“Dennis. Come on buddy.” She taps his cheek.

He blinks sluggishly.

“Sorry,” he says sincerely.

“It’s fine,” she feels her heart rate returning to normal. She vaguely hopes Dennis won’t remember this later.

They sit, dazed, on the floor of the bar until they hear the doorknob turn, and suddenly Mac is there, full of nervous energy. It snaps Dee out of the funk, and she feels the anxiety returning and her heart pounds in her chest as she looks at Dennis’s purple, swollen ankle.

Mac is on top of Dennis in a heartbeat. He crouches down next to him, wraps his arms around him in a careful embrace. Dennis melts into it, but Mac quickly detaches Dennis from him, sitting down and joining Dee in rubbing his back. He gingerly lifts his pant leg to see the full extent of the injury. Dennis starts at the contact, his eyes welling up as the ankle gets jostled.

“Shit. Dennis, I’m sorry,” his hands are on Dennis’s face, wiping the tears away, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. It hurts so bad, but I can’t…feel it? As much, anymore…I don’t know.” He sounds out of it.

“Okay,” Mac shoots Dee a concerned look, “Dee and I are going to move you to the car and get you to the hospital.”

At the word “move,” Dennis freezes like a cornered animal.

“No, no, please. Please, Mac. I can’t. I can’t walk,” he gasps.

“Hey, no, don’t get all worked up. It won’t even touch the floor. We’ll hold you steady and all you have to do is keep that leg off the ground. Right, Dee?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

They lift on three, and Dee cringes when Dennis cries out as they get him vertical. All the way, Mac is whispering soothing words to him.

“You’re doing so good, Den.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You’ll feel better soon.”

Dennis doesn’t acknowledge them, but she thinks she feels the slightest bit of tension leave his body.

Getting him to the car goes surprisingly smoothly. Of course, having to ride in a car with an unsupported broken ankle is an absolute nightmare, but they don’t have money for an ambulance.

Dennis starts crying again and buries his face in Mac’s shoulder in the back seat. Mac strokes his hair.

“I know, Den, I know,” he says, loud enough for Dee to hear, “It’ll all be okay soon.”

Dennis whimpers in acknowledgment.

The hospital waiting room is a goddamn zoo, but there’s a few chairs next to each other so that Dennis can stretch out and Mac can sit with him.

He leans heavily on Mac, their hands interlocked tightly, and Dee can’t believe that the dumbasses took so long to realize they were in love.

She rests a quick, comforting hand on Mac’s shoulder, and he turns to her with a small smile, tired and worried. She lifts the corners of her mouth in return, hoping she can convey how grateful she is without having to say it.

#iasip #its always sunny #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #macdennis #prompts #asks #uhhh this is kind of sad guys #like dennis really suffers in this one #also bonus dee being a good older sister #and mac and dee friendship #thanks anon

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asecretsummer-rpg · 7 years

Photo

Name: Fritz Adler Age: 53 Sexuality: Heterosexual Gender: Male Portrayed By: Keanu Reeves Availability: Closed

“I’m far too busy to think about all this.”

→ Background

Fritz Adler grew up in Berlin. A buzzing city these days. He got lucky enough he grew up on the western side, belonging to West Germany. He saw people from the East fleeing getting shot, it was a big mess that time and he was determined to get out there. This country wasn’t for him and he knew it as much as his parents, who were quite poor not even being able to give his son new clothes so he had to run around in things too small most of the time, getting hand-me-downs from his bigger brothers. Fritz was the youngest of eight children. He had no idea how his parents could keep making children when they had nothing to give to them. He was quick to get out at the age of eighteen. Not that he had a choice since his parents threw him out since he was old enough to stand on his own feet. He’d worked since he’d been fifteen already and he had big plans. He attended the university, which he worked himself through and studied business. And old friend of him was a Chemist and he’d developed a medication for a heart disease. One thing led to the other, Fritz made sure the thing sold well and he quickly got his own business, with only twenty-three, he wasn’t even done with university when he started building his own company. Advertising and selling drugs to doctors and pharmacies was now his thing and it grew quickly.

Fritz was twenty-five when he met Coreen. A British girl who had him wrapped around his finger quite quickly. He had built his company up far enough he could live from it and he got engaged pretty quickly. Coreen didn’t really want to move away from her home town and the young Fritz came along with her to Baberton. It was nice enough and he would do anything for this woman. A couple of years later they got a son. Little Dennis was his proud and life went on. He made friends in town, like Charlie Baker, and his company kept growing. He had to go on business trips quite a lot, but when he came home one day, Dennis was already sixteen by that time and was with friends, he found his wife laying in the living room dead. The house had been robbed and the robber had vanished after he killed Coreen. His life fell apart for a couple of years, turned to alcohol maybe a little too much that time, but when he saw how much Dennis was suffering through this he tried to built himself up and go through with his life.

→ Back to Baberton

This town never gets a rest and Fritz doesn’t either, he keeps working and going on his trips. Honestly, he knows what’s going on with him lately. But who would say out loud that you have a mid life crisis. He had signed up to several dating sites but women his age were just so... used. And usually unhappy. It frustrated him and when he met the young girl names Ava Cruz on one of his trips he was smitten from the moment he saw her. He pushed maybe a bit too hard but he knew the only thing that could get a young girl like her to go out with him was gifts. And that’s what he does, he showers her in gifts and money and exactly that made her go with him, being his girlfriend. He knows the talk in town but he doesn’t care. When Charlie Baker can date his student he can date Ava.

Dennis is obviously unhappy about it, but since the boy is still living in his house off of his money he wasn’t allowed to complain. He’s happy and even if it’s not love on her side, he feels quite good with himself, liking to have her pretty face by his side, to keep him company whenever he’s home and he plans to cut down the work load a little so he could actually live through the good life with his new girlfriend.

→ What’s His Secret?

Actually wants to propose to Ava and has bought an engagement ring for her and hid it in his office. He still waits for the right moment. Why waste time in this though? She already lived with him, why not tie the knot?

Went out with Josie Williams once or twice and he actually liked her but somehow it seemed like she didn’t seem to be into him. Which bugged him back then and probably triggered his mid life crisis a lot.

#town rp #established rp #Keanu Reeves #takenm

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winters-blue-children · 7 years

Text

Maybe Just Memories - AO3

Dennis has a new life in North Dakota. As a rule, he doesn't think about the things he left behind. But news from Dee that Mac has since moved on, leads to a painful revelation that Dennis may have made the biggest mistake of his life.

“I can’t believe you haven’t crashed and burned with this dad thing yet. I really thought this kid got the short end of the stick with you as a father.”

Dennis snorts into his phone. Usually he’d be quick to take offense, especially with his sister. But the truth is, he’s a bit surprised himself. It hasn’t been easy, and he’s definitely made a few mistakes along the way. The learning curve is steep. Half his days are spent yanking his hair out, wondering what the hell he’s even doing in fucking North Dakota. The other half are spent sharing truly tender, heartwarming moments with his son. And he’s pretty sure he can’t get that anywhere else, so… it’s all worth it in the end.

“You need to send me more pictures. I want to see my nephew.”

Dennis grins, though Dee can’t see it. But he’s thinking back to the day he spent with Brian Jr in the park just a few days ago. He’s got some great photos on his phone of Brian on the swings with the biggest smile on his face. “Yeah I’ll send you some pics soon,” he says softly.

There’s a pause on the other end. “Thanks Dennis,” Dee eventually replies.

Dennis knows that tone. He’s known Dee for forty years, and every damn day for most of their lives, he’d wake up and relentlessly mock his sister, all the while knowing that their relationship is not one that can be easily explained or understood. But Dee knows him too.

“You miss me?” Dennis says it like a joke. Dee knows it’s more than that.

“Of course not, you turd.” Dee’s voice is harsh and mocking over the phone, but the familiarity makes Dennis smile, which of course, was the point all along.

“How’s the gang?”

“Same old, same old.” Dee tells him, the same thing she says every time they talk on the phone. Charlie and Frank relentlessly deal with Charlie’s ongoing Waitress Fiasco. Mac and Dee keep the bar running. It seems Paddy’s didn’t need him as much as he thought it did. The arrogant, egotistic side of him half hoped it might crumble to pieces after he left Philly.

“How’s Mac?”

Dee pauses again and Dennis fucking hates her for it. If she were there he’d threaten to slap her in the teeth.

“Same old Mac.”

“Really?” Dennis swears there isn’t a hitch in his voice or anything. He’s not eager to know about the guy, that’s for sure. “Nothing new?”

“I actually haven’t seen him around much lately.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, he’s... been busy...”

“Busy with what?” Dennis demands, as he tries to keep his voice even. “I thought you said the gang was same old, same old?”

Dee sighs softly on the other end. “He’s been seeing someone, okay?”

Dennis’ heart sinks heavily into the pit of his stomach. A bit of bile might have even splashed into his throat and he’s suddenly grateful that he had already been sitting. “Seeing someone?” He asks hoarsely. “Is it serious?”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, but… Mac seems to like him and… I don’t know, I didn’t want to tell you. I--I know how weird it must be for you and--”

“Weird?” Dennis’ voice cracks horribly but he chuckles and hopes Dee didn’t catch it. “Why would it be weird? Good for him, I say. It’s about damn time.”

“Dennis, you don’t have to--”

“No, I mean it. I’m serious, good for him. Good for him… about damn time.” He realizes he’d just repeated himself an awful lot, and he curses his sister for knowing him too damn well. And then he suddenly really needs to get off the phone with her because his mind is being bombarded with images of Mac with a buff, handsome, well-endowed man with excellent taste in culinary cuisine and damn it it’s not supposed to hurt this badly so he blinks rapidly and tries to think fast. “You know what, I gotta go. I--I just remembered I’m supposed to read to Brian Jr before bed and it is definitely past his bedtime.”

“Dennis, it’s nine thirty--”

“No. No, no, here’s it’s actually eight thirty--” Fuck that actually hurts his argument. “You know what, I gotta go, I’ll--I’ll talk to you later, Dee.”

“Dennis--”

“I’ll send you those pictures--”

“Please don’t--”

“Bye!” Dennis slams his thumb over the end call button and hopes his voice didn’t actually sound as hysterical to Dee as it did to his own ears. It probably did.

Fuck.

Dennis closes his eyes and lets his head drop into his hands.

It’s not supposed to hurt this badly. But it does. Because he’s remembering warm brown eyes and strong hands and the smell of stupid fucking Drakkar Noir--and suddenly, it’s like everything he’d repressed for the past three months all comes rushing back at once--and god it hurts.

Three months. Three long months since he’d seen Mac’s face, or even heard his voice, because for some fucked up reason Dennis can’t bring himself to answer the phone whenever Mac called him. Like there’s this awful, cynical mental block that causes him to ignore every call, telling--lying to himself that it’s just an inconvenient time and he’d call him back later. Though he never did. And the days pushed to weeks and turned to months. And eventually Mac stopped calling.

Dennis takes out his phone again. He scrolls through the few contacts he has and almost chokes when he sees the name. His thumb hovers over it, shaking. It would be so easy--

He’s never known intimacy like what he shared with Mac. They were always more than friends. Crossing that line again and again only to jump back behind it before they go too far. And now Dennis just really wants to see Mac. See him and touch him and hear him. At least the last one is possible.

His thumb hits the call button and he presses his phone against his ear. The line trills over and over. Pick up, pick up, pick up, you son of a bitch. With each unanswered ring, Dennis feels his heart sink deeper in his chest. He wonders if this is how Mac felt each time his calls went unanswered.

Dennis drops his head and the phone slips from his fingers, landing softly on the carpet.

He doesn’t want to think about why Mac might be ignoring his call. His heart aches and his eyes burn. He remembers kisses that taste like whiskey. Every lost moment they shared over the years comes back. So many times when he would pretend he didn’t notice the way Mac would look at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. And whenever Mac’s lips would part to say something Dennis didn’t have the strength to hear so he walked away instead. He remembers the way his breath would catch in his throat, burn like acid on his tongue, so he pulled back. But the distance never seemed enough. And it only got harder when Mac finally came out and stayed out. So Dennis kept pulling, kept distancing, kept running until he’s sixteen hundred miles away.

And maybe this time, he’s gone too far.

He can't get the sick feeling out of his stomach. Every last shred of denial that he’d held onto and deluded himself into believing disappears like smoke. And he can’t deny it anymore. He misses Mac. He misses the days when they couldn’t go an hour without checking in with each other. He misses their monthly dinners, the one night a month when they would go out to a nice restaurant and enjoy each other’s company under the guise of simply splurging on themselves. He misses the way Mac always knew how to make him laugh.

He finds himself yearning even the annoying aspects of Mac’s personality that he’d long convinced himself he hated. Like when Mac would act the nagging, bossy wife who complained endlessly, but would still clean up after him and make sure he eats every meal. Or when Dennis would rage and Mac would look at him like some lovesick puppy that got smacked on the nose with a newspaper. But he wouldn’t leave. Because Mac would never leave him of his own accord.

All these things that Dennis didn’t let himself think about in the past few months.

And now he can’t stop wondering how Mac is doing without him. Who is this new man Mac is seeing? Has Mac replaced him already? With a newer, younger model that does everything Dennis did for him, except better? The thoughts and images he sees in his mind’s eye are worse than not knowing.

Dennis calls Mac four more times over the next three hours with no answer. So he’s left to stew in his own rage and self pity, all the while cursing some faceless man who’s stolen his best friend from him. Can he even call Mac that anymore? When they haven��t spoken a word in three months.

Hours later, when Mandy gets back from dinner at her parents’ with Brian Jr carefully balanced on her hip--yes, of course he was lying to Dee--and sees him sitting motionless on the couch, he doesn’t answer the probing questions on her face, nor does she mention his red rimmed eyes. She gives him a sympathetic smile and goes to settle their son down for bed before retiring to her bedroom. He’s grateful she lets it go without question.

Mac would have pestered him until he finally gave in and spilled. But Mandy isn’t Mac. And Dennis doesn’t want her to be.

Their house is silent when Dennis’ phone finally starts ringing. He looks at the name on the screen and thinks for a second he might be imagining it. But he answers with a rough “hello,” and finally hears the voice he hasn’t heard in three long months.

“Hey… Dennis.”

Dennis hears the hesitation in the other man’s voice and his heart constricts painfully in his chest. “Mac…”

“I was… surprised to see your missed calls.”

“Hi, um… how have you been?” Dennis asks shakily. No word for three months and that’s the best he can come up with on the spot. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mac hangs up on him.

“Good,” Mac answers shortly. “And you?”

Dennis isn’t used to Mac with short, curt answers. There’s uncertainty in the other man’s voice and it mirrors the fear and desperation that weighs heavily on his own chest. “Good. I’m--I’m good,” he stutters nervously. “Uh… things are really different in North Dakota. I swear it’s worse than the suburbs outside Philly.” He chuckles softly as he briefly relives those memories. But it’s as short lived as their little stint playing house because he doesn’t get an answer from the other end of the line.

“Um, this… this definitely took some getting used to. You know I don’t know shit about being a dad. You’d probably be better at it than I am, to be honest. I kinda… kinda wish you were doing this with me.” There’s a heavy beat of silence as Dennis’ voice trails off. He bites his lip when the magnitude of his rambling hits him full force. “I’m sorry I never answer your calls,” he blurts out. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mac eventually says softly. “Why’d you call me now?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Wow. That almost sounds sweet.”

Dennis cringes at the bitterness in the other man’s voice. It was never this hard with Mac. But now they’re broken and he doesn’t know how to fix it. They never resolved things between them. It was all left unsaid and that was Dennis’ fault and he knows that now. But what can he do?

“Why are you whispering?” There’s nothing but silence on the other end of the line. Dennis trembles as he tries to keep it together. “Are you with him?”

“Did Dee tell you?”

Dennis swallows, taking that for the unspoken answer it is. “Who is he?”

He hears Mac sigh softly. “Just some guy that came into Paddy’s one night. We started talking and just… kind of hit it off.”

“You like him?”

Mac chuckles into his ear. “Yeah, of course I like him. I wouldn’t be going out with him if I didn’t.”

“You love him?”

There’s a heavy pause before Mac answers. “It’s a bit early for that. And anyway... love kind of has a tendency to bite me in the ass.”

Dennis was wrong when he didn’t think it could hurt worse than it did. “Mac...”

“Look, I get why you left,” Mac interrupts him. “You wanted to be dad, maybe you needed to be a dad. And I’m so fucking happy for you, as long as you’re happy. And I know that it’s partially my fault you left, I know I came on strong--”

“Mac--”

“And yeah, it was really hard at first. I missed you so much. I stayed at Dee’s place for a while after you left, and may have overstayed my welcome. I cleaned the hell out of her shitty apartment, ungrateful bitch still kicked me out.”

A small grin tugs at Dennis’ lips as he remembers how Mac would go on a vicious cleaning spree whenever he’d get upset. And usually that would be because Dennis did something to upset him.

“I miss you too,” Dennis says genuinely. There’s a brief but wonderful feeling of relief upon finally saying those words out loud.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

Dennis forces a tight, faked smile even though Mac can’t see it. “It was just... too hard to talk to you.” It’s such an inadequate answer, even to his own ears. He’s holding the broken pieces of their friendship in his hands, and all he can say is that ‘it was too hard’.

“I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you,” Dennis admits. “I just couldn’t do it.”

“For three months?”

Dennis closes his eyes painfully. There were so many times he’d been tempted to answer. But it was easier to not know about Mac’s life. After all the years--decades--they spent inseparable, it would have been too hard to know Mac was existing without him. A clean break was his coward’s way out. But the reality is, he couldn’t erase Mac from his mind any more than he could erase him from his heart. He’s stuck around like a bruise that won’t heal.

“I’m so sorry,” Dennis whispers. Though he can’t remember the last time he uttered those words to another person, he’s never meant them more in his life. “I wish I could…”

“Don’t do that,” Mac murmurs, cutting him off. “I know you’ve got a good thing going, with your son… Dee’s kept me updated,” he explains. “I know you don’t regret that.”

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees softly, though there are other things he does regret. He ignores the way his insides twist painfully as he cradles the phone against his ear. “But I still miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

Mac sounds like he’s saying it reluctantly, and Dennis can’t help but grin as he pictures the exasperation on the other man’s face.

“So how’s the apartment?”

“It’s fine.”

Mac probably shrugged his shoulders. The other man’s voice is still barely above a whisper, and Dennis doesn’t want to think about why.

“I moved into your bedroom.”

“Yeah?” Dennis grins, thinking about Mac living in his old room. “The bigger room is nice, huh?”

“Dude, I’m still pissed at you, man.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of pissed at myself,” Dennis says truthfully. “You there now?”

Mac gives a small cough. “Um… no,” he says lightly. “I’m… I’m at his place. He's asleep.”

Dennis imagines this must be what it’s like to be stabbed in the heart with a steak knife.

He never thought he’d see the day where he’s living his life in the middle of nowhere North Dakota while Mac moves on happily with some guy. And fucking waits until his boyfriend is asleep before calling him. His chest throbs painfully, and his lungs feel like they’re filling with fluid as it suddenly gets very hard to breathe. But he swallows down his bitter jealousy and tries to keep his voice steady.

“What’s his name?”

Mac hesitates, like he knows Dennis doesn't actually want to hear the name of the man he’s fucking. Like he knows Dennis is only doing it to torture himself.

“Nate.”

“He better be good to you,” Dennis jokes, as a strained chuckle is torn from his throat. “Don’t make me come back to Philly to kick his ass.”

“He’s good to me,” Mac says softly.

Dennis takes a shuddered breath. His jealousy burns so bright, it hurts. “He ever take you out to Guigino’s?”

“Nah, man. That’s our place.”

He only meant it as a joke. A light jest between friends. But Mac’s response really hits home. Guigino’s was their place. Dennis misses those nights out more than he could have imagined. It all seems like a lifetime ago. What happened to them?

“Are you happy?” Dennis suddenly asks. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Happier than I did?”

Mac laughs softly. “I'm not sure that's possible.”

“Mac--”

“Look, Dennis… it’s all in the past now. And I'm okay with that. Really, I am. I'm happy, and if you're happy, that's all that matters to me. I’ll still see you, man. You should visit on holidays. And bring your kid, I wanna meet him, for real this time. Maybe I can teach him some sweet karate moves! It’ll be so great! And… you know I love you, dude… I’ll always love you. But... I needed to move on... and I have. So... don't worry about me, okay?”

Dennis is not okay. Not even close. When this call ends, Mac is going to go back into the arms of some man Dennis has never met. This guy gets to love him, and hold him, and take him out, and fill the empty hole in his life that Dennis left behind.

And suddenly, Dennis wishes he had never left. He wishes he had never walked out of Mac’s life, taking the coward’s way out. If he had just found some way to make it work, maybe he could have spared himself this grief. He can’t stop remembering the moments they shared. They play in his mind, over and over. He couldn’t count on his hands the number of times he’d fallen asleep while watching Predator with Mac, only to wake up with the other man’s arms wrapped around him. He’d blink his eyes blearily, as the other man slept. And as his heart hammered in his chest, he would wonder how far they could keep pushing until neither of them could deny the truth any longer.

He regrets not facing that truth sooner.

Maybe he had fallen in love with his best friend. Or maybe he’d been in love with him the entire time. And now, it’s just wishful thinking that maybe he could go back and savor those moments with Mac.

As Dennis attempts to pull himself together enough to form a coherent sentence, he hears commotion on the other end of the line. He can’t quite make out the words of the other person who speaks, but Mac’s voice is clear.

“Hey, I’m just on the phone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just talkin’ to an old friend.”

“I’ll be right in. Go on.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, Dennis?”

Dennis swallows the lump in his throat. He blinks away the tears that he hadn’t realized had fallen from his lashes. Soft, shallow breaths barely hide the choked little sob that breaks through, but it’s enough. “Yeah?” He says hoarsely, as he presses a hand to his face, trying to contain himself for just long enough to get through the rest of this call with his dignity intact.

“I gotta go, man.”

“Yeah,” Dennis murmurs. “Yeah, I figured. It’s pretty late.”

“Hey, I’ll talk to you later though, yeah?”

“Of course. Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye, Mac.”

Dennis is still trying to quench the tears as he hears the line click on the other side. This isn’t supposed to be his life. He’s not supposed to be a sobbing mess, pining over his old roommate--the white trash, piece of lower class shit from the worst neighborhood in South Philly.

His best friend. The best guy he knows.

But that is his life now. Dennis is a fucking mess, and the only person who can fix it is over a thousand miles away.

How the fuck did this happen?

Dennis misses Mac like a severed limb. The emptiness is all-consuming and absolutely crushing. He takes a shuddered breath and angrily wipes the tears from his face. Dennis Reynolds doesn’t cry. He certainly doesn’t back down without a fight.

God help him, Mac is going to rue the day he thought he could ever replace Dennis in his life.

Dennis grips his phone tightly in his hand as he runs through ideas in his head. He’s already planning on buying the cheapest, earliest flight to Philly. He’s going to make it work. He will.

It’s time to go home.

#IASIP #MacDennis #MacDennis fic #my fics #MacDennis fic exchange

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theentiregdtime · 5 years

Note

bleasse can u write dee and dennis getting rlly high n coming out to eachother or dee somehow finding out mac and dennis r together 😳

PHILADELPHIA, PA

8:00 P.M.ON A FRIDAY

“Damn it, Deandra, what in the shit are you talking about?”

“Yeah, Dee, I’m not following this at all. But it’s getting late, and we haven’t had any customers since noon, so I was thinking me and Frank could just leave-”

“No, no one is leaving, okay?” Dee insists. “I called a meeting and you two are going to shut up and listen to me for once!”

Frank and Charlie exchange a glance. Charlie looks like he’s willing to make a run for it if they both do, and Frank is frowning at him like he knows there’s no way out. They’re not saying anything, but they always seem to know what the other is thinking- they have this weird, creepy telepathy thing.

“So…” Charlie whistles, gaping at Dee like like he thinks she might blow up at any moment (she might), “what’s up?”

“Is this about the ladies’ night thing? ‘Cause we already voted on that.” Frank waves his stubby, little arms through the air. “We get it, Deandra, you want puss, but we can’t just go givin’ out free drinks, this ain’t a charity!”

“For the love of-” Dee snarls in her throat and rubs at her face. She’s going to kill them. She’s going to kill all of them. But she can’t kill them yet, at least not for a couple more years, not until she knows she can get away with it- so she regains her composure with and sighs. Her bangs are all ruffled now. “That’s not what this is about. It’s about this.”

She holds her phone out for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to see.

“What am I looking at?”

“Well, Frank, she took a picture of a phone with her phone, which is cool, definitely worth the wait, but what would be even better is if we got a third phone and-”

“Not the phone, you boobs!” Dee spits. “The text!”

Charlie swipes her cell to squint at the picture.

“It’s… It says… milk…”

Frank pats Charlie’s shoulder and takes the phone from his hands. He adjusts his glasses and puts it up to his face- like, right up to his face. Like, he definitely has to be too close to read it now. Any closer and it’ll literally be on his face.

Again, Dee is going to kill them.

“Meet you at 9. Don’t say anything to Dee or Charlie. This is the best thing ever and I don’t want them to ruin it.” Frank pokes the screen. “Then there’s some sort of little yellow man smiling at me-”

“Give me that!” Dee snatches the phone back from Frank’s fat, grubby fingers. “The point is, Mac and Dennis are up to something and they don’t want us to know.”

“Yeah, okay, but why did you read Dennis’ texts…?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, that’s shitty etiquette. You never know what Donald could be texting about- could be you see somethin’ you don’t wanna see.”

“It’s Dennis,” Dee corrects him knowing damn well he’ll re-forget within the hour, “and he left it on the bar! That’s fair game!”

“I don’t know.” Charlie shrugs. “I’m kind of starting not to take your side anymore, it’s like, you’re the bad guy here…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank agrees, talking with his mouth full and spitting crumbs. What is he even chewing? Is he eating loose saltines out of his pocket? “No one likes a sneaky bitch.”

Dee pinches the bridge of her nose.

She’s wasting her night for this! And why? So she can save the bar and keep these two dick nips in business? She should just walk right on out of here, pour some gasoline, light a match, burn them and this whole place down, go home, put on her pajamas, watch a movie…

She opens her eyes and remembers that she’s still in the back office, and she still hasn’t gotten her point across to these rabid weasel men.

“Listen, you little shit brains.” Dee pounds a fist on the desk. “I think it’s very obvious what’s happening here.”

Charlie nods. “Well, yeah, it’s been-”

“Mac and Dennis are selling the bar.”

Frank chokes on a cracker, hacks it back up, and swallows hard.

“Selling the bar? They only own half the damn thing!”

“Yeah, and like,” Charlie cuts in, “why would they sell it? I mean, what would we even do all day?”

“Look, I don’t know exactly how or why, but I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. They’re meeting with someone tonight and they’re gonna get rich off this deal and leave the rest of us out of it- and if it’s the best thing that ever happened, then it must be a shitload of money.”

Dee would actually be thrilled to get out of this dump. It’d finally give her the chance to focus on her acting career. She could leave these jerkwads behind, move away from this garbage town, meet some refined people who don’t consider chocolate mints high-class living… But she needs her cut, they owe her her cut.

Even if she doesn’t technically own any shares of the bar, those sons of bitches owe her for putting up with them and their stupid schemes and their verbal abuse for years and years and years. She could give a shit about what happens to Frank and Charlie, but she needs them on her side for this, or she’s never going to get anywhere.

“But I’ve got a plan. I turned on Dennis’ location sharing weeks ago and he hasn’t noticed, so we can track him and-”

“Jeez, Dee, what the hell is this?”

“You are not coming out on top here, Deandra.”

“I mean, this is saying more about you than Mac and Dennis.”

“Just- Shut up for five minutes!” Dee yelps, then switches to squatting and baby-talking down to them. “Can you do that? Can you shut your mouths for five whole minutes while I talk? Or do you want to be out of a job? Do you want to live in the sewers? Do you? Huh?”

Neither of them gives her any lip.

“Good. Now, Dennis should arrive wherever they’re meeting in about,” -she glances at the clock- “forty-five minutes, which gives us just enough time to stop by my apartment, work on some disguises, figure out our characters-”

“Wait- Wh- Our characters?” Charlie stammers.

“Well, yeah. See, we need to intercept the deal, disguise ourselves as Paddy’s customers… you know, tell some stories about what a piece of shit the bar is!” Dee throws her hands in the air. “It’ll be easy, because the bar is a piece of shit.”

Frank raises a skeptical eyebrow. “So to save the bar… we’re gonna make everyone hate the bar. Do you hear yourself right now?”

“Oh, like it’s going to jeopardize our flourishing business.” Dee paces to the other side of the room. “I bet no one’s even in here right now, and if they are, we sure as shit aren’t serving them!”

Dee swings the door open and peeks out into the bar. Aside from one of the regulars fast asleep in a booth (he’s old, he mostly comes here to nap), there’s only one customer. He notices Dee and perks up, waving in her direction.

“Hey, can I get a Jack and Coke, or…?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” she snaps and slams the door shut, spinning back around to finish detailing her plan.

“Anyways, here’s what I’m thinking…”

—–

“This is so cool.”

Dennis glances up from his Riesling to find Mac gawking at him across the table. He has both elbows on it like some sort of barbarian, leaning forward onto his arms and grinning so wide that it tugs at the wrinkles around his eyes. He looks completely normal, and not at all like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

“It’s, aha…” -he chuckles and sets his glass down- “the same as it always is.”

“Well, I know, but it’s… different now.” Mac reaches across the table and brushes their fingers together, just the ghost of a touch. He leans on his free hand and makes a face like his entire brain has turned to mashed potatoes and all that’s left is Dennis. Dennis pretends to think it’s stupid. “S'awesome.”

Mac’s right, it isn’t the same, not exactly. All of the usual pieces are there. Everything is as it is every month- the uncomfortable chairs are the same, the wait staff is the same (he assumes, he can never remember), the menu is the same, and they’ll spend twenty minutes looking at it before ordering the same meals they always do.

The only thing that separates this from a regular monthly dinner is that little feeling in Dennis’ chest like something is swirling around inside of him, like something’s been filled- like it’s overflowing, in fact- and it’s going to spill out of him at any moment. It’s a good feeling, surprisingly. The air conditioner is blasting directly on his back, and his chair is wobbly, but he’s warmer and more comfortable than he’s ever been in his life.

“You know, I was thinking…”

“Are we ready to order-”

“Begone!” Dennis snaps at the waiter, flitting a hand through the air in a shooing motion. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

“Yeah, don’t interrupt my boyfriend, asshole!” Mac shouts so loudly that people five tables from them turn their heads. He seems so giddy to say it that he can hardly keep still in his seat.

The waiter rolls his eyes, huffs, and stomps away. He’s mumbling something under his breath, and typically, Dennis would demand he turn around and say it to his face like a man, but it’s not worth it tonight.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” Mac all but giggles. “That was badass, dude.”

“You know what? It was.” Dennis drinks the last sip of his wine, then holds the glass out over the edge of the table. “But the service here is absolutely unacceptable, I mean, have you even seen a waiter?”

—–

It’s almost 9:20 when they arrive at Guigino’s.

They would have made it on time if not for Frank and Charlie changing costumes every ten seconds. They didn’t listen to Dee’s suggestions at all. Why listen to her? That would almost make too much sense, it would be too reasonable.

In the end, they seem pretty happy with what they’ve settled on.

Frank is wearing a dark wig, a feather boa, and what he thought was a very expensive dress, but is in fact a red bathrobe- and to make matters worse, he has his Crocs on under it. Charlie’s sporting a purple suit with too-small sleeves and pretending to smoke from a pipe. They’ve single-handedly managed to make themselves the two most conspicuous people on the planet, but Dee couldn’t change their minds. They said if they were going to do this whole mystery thing, they really wanted to pull the classy Clue vibe.

So Dee is the only one dressed like an actual waiter, rocking a fake mustache (not that you can tell) and a three-piece suit she thinks matches the Guigino’s attire (she can never remember what the wait staff looks like). She’s got it all planned out. She’s going to intercept orders, drop in on Mac and Dennis’ little exchange, and get some patrons talking about what a shithole Paddy’s Pub is.

And Frank and Charlie are going to do… whatever it is that they’re doing.

Before they go their separate ways, they duck in front of one of the windows and peer inside. It’s a crowded night, which is good- it’ll make it easier for them to blend in. Dee scans the restaurant until she spots Mac and Dennis seated near the kitchen.

“What the hell, why are they alone?” Dee whispers, her breath fogging up the glass.

“Well, maybe they’re just on a-”

“They must be keeping it on the down-low,” Frank cuts Charlie off. “Don’t want to be seen together.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, how would they even communicate?”

“I don’t know, through the waiter or something. You know, passin’ notes, sendin’ messages- encrypted messages. They buy their table fish, that’s code for let’s make this deal, they have ‘em bring the chicken instead, that’s like, how about you up the ante a little bit?”

Goddamn it. These goddamn sons of bitches. They’re going to tank this whole thing before it begins, they aren’t helping at all, and Charlie is actually pretending to take puffs on the pipe even though there’s no one out here!

“What are you talking about?” Dee asks, knowing it’s futile before she even finishes the question.

“The chicken is sub-par, Deandra.”

“Yeah, everybody knows that,” Charlie agrees.

“It’s very dry.”

“No, about the secret messages!” she hisses.

Frank shrugs. “All I’m saying is, must be some pretty high-profile characters.”

Dee isn’t so sure there’s a sale happening anymore. There’s definitely something going on, but she doesn’t know what it is. Looking in, it kind of seems like it’s just one of their lame monthly dinners, but there must be something else… and she’s going to have to figure it out on her own.

But she’s not completely alone. She and her character, Alfredo, a waiter with a dark past who can take any order but the order of his own heart, who can clear any table but can’t turn the tables of fate, are in this together.

“You guys go do your Nancy Drew thing or whatever.” Dee stands up and twirls the tip of her mustache. “I’m going to hit this place from the back.”

—–

Frank and Charlie make their way inside as Dee sneaks around through the back entrance and into the kitchen. They look pretty damn classy, if Frank says so himself.

Dressed like this, they can sit at any table they want and blend right in with the rich folk. Frank should know, he used to be one of them- he knows how to look the part.

His Crocs squeak against the tile with every step up to the hostess’ podium.

“Good even-”

“Yes, darling!” Frank announces and flips his hair. “I’m Miss Scarlett, and this is my lover, Professor-”

“Professor Purple,” Charlie finishes his sentence for him, taking a drag from his pipe.

“It’s Plum, Charlie,” Frank whispers.

“What the hell is a plum?”

“It’s a fruit.”

“That doesn’t sound right. That’s not a thing.”

“Anyways!” Frank turns back to the hostess, voice booming again. “We’re meeting with some associates, so if you don’t mind, we’ll just make our way to their table.”

Before she can object, they’ve already passed the podium and are approaching the nearest family. They’ve got to start somewhere, so they might as well go in order. After all, you can never know an undercover agent just from looking at ‘em. They invade right under your nose, like Red Dawn.

They drag a couple of empty chairs up to the first table, a suspiciously average-looking couple with a small child (they’re starting younger and younger, these child spies). The scooting noise echoes through the restaurant, and it’s loud as shit, but Frank isn’t picking a chair up off the ground- not with his nails freshly-cleaned.

“Boy,” he starts as they both plop themselves down, “have we had a rough night.”

The supposed 'mother’ narrows her eyes at them. “I’m sorry, who are…?”

“We just came in from Paddy’s Pub,” Charlie elaborates, crossing his legs and taking another fake puff. He looks fancy as shit. “Let me tell ya’, that place is a hole- literally! There are glory holes in every wall!”

The woman gasps. The man beside her pulls their alleged child towards him and covers his ears.

“I got bit by a rat there once,” Frank says, “now look at me- I’m covered in hair! And I used to be beautiful.”

“Yeah, and this is just the hair you can see,” Charlie adds.

“Here,” Frank hikes up his skirt and lifts his leg up, with a bit of a struggle, on top of the table. His heel lands in a very warm carbonara. “Let me show ya’ my ankles.”

—–

Dee pokes her head out of the kitchen door, a plate of fried artichokes or some shit in her hand. She’s close enough to Mac and Dennis that she can mostly make out their conversation over the clattering and steaming noises in the room.

“I don’t know, I was just surprised you didn’t want to tell them,” Dennis is saying. “I assumed you’d be screaming about it every day for a week.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Dennis, but you know how they are, they’re gonna be jealous of us, 'cause they’re all sad and alone, and they’re gonna be total assholes about it.”

This is it. This is going somewhere. Dee picks one of the breaded green things off the plate and pops it in her mouth. It’s mushy and it tastes like the underside of a pickled boot.

“So what? Since when do you care?”

“I’m just- I’m worried they’re gonna talk you out of it.”

A pause.

“Mac, baby, this has been a long time coming, nothing is going to-”

Dee misses the rest when a waiter bumps into her from behind. Fuck.

“Oh, uh, excuse me,” she says in her gruffest voice, standing up straight. She brushes the panko crumbs out of her mustache.

The waiter is just squinting at her for some reason- perv.

“Do I know you…?” he asks.

“Not possible,” Dee answers, shaking her head. “I just started here yesterday. And before that…” -she gazes into the distance- “well, that’s a story of another time, another place, a story of love and betrayal and murder-”

“You know what? I don’t care.” The waiter pushes past her and stops at Mac and Dennis’ table.

What an asshole. If he were the one talking, she’d listen to him! That goddamn jerk! She should teach him a lesson. If she weren’t so busy with this mission, she’d pants him or tie his shoelaces together or something.

This is a problem, too. If he’s Mac and Dennis’ waiter, Dee is never going to be able to spy on them without him calling her out.

She sneaks past the three of them and stops beside a family a few tables down, setting the cursed plate of artichokes between them.

“Your appetizer,” she grumbles.

“We didn’t have a-”

“It’s on the house. They’re fantastic, you’re gonna love 'em, they taste nothing at all like a live octopus.”

Dee stays put at the end of their table, trying to listen in on the conversation. They’re still talking to the waiter- they always have so many goddamn questions. They can’t just order food, no, that would be too simple, it’s always what’s the soup of the day and can you make me Tuesday’s soup instead and how fresh is the fish and where are the tomatoes in your bolognese from?

“Did you… need something or…?” the man at the table questions.

“Shh,” she hushes him without looking.

They’re discussing their little scheme again, but Dee can’t make out what they’re saying. Damn it. She’s going to have to get closer.

She swipes a carafe of water and winds around the half-wall, shimmying down until she’s hidden by one of the faux plants. She pretends to water it, pouring cold chunks of ice down into the pot as she eavesdrops.

“I just can’t believe it took so long.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t spent the better part of your life raving about how sinful and unnatural- Why are you picking off my salad? You hate salad.”

“Yeah, but I like croutons, dude. You should have asked for chicken on this.”

“That’s absurd, Mac, everybody knows the chicken here is sub-par.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dee catches a red blob and a purple blob whipping across the restaurant. They’re making it hard for her to focus. She turns to watch them for a second, and in that short time, witnesses Charlie eating spaghetti with his hands and Frank showing a very uncomfortable-looking woman his teeth.

“Oh, goddamn it!” she whispers.

Dee was going to leave them to their own devices, but they’re going to make a scene and get themselves kicked out. If Mac and Dennis spot them, they’re going to know Dee’s here, too, even if she’s wearing an incredible disguise. She can’t let that happen- she’s going to have to go interfere.

—–

“So…” -Charlie picks up a spaghetti noodle and drops it into his mouth, sauce dripping onto his shirt- “which one of you gentlemen is looking to make a deal?”

He’s managed to ditch Frank, who’s started with this weird 'the beer at Paddy’s shrinks your teeth’ angle, and has decided to act out his own plan instead. See, he has a good thing going at the bar, but these are some very money-having people they’re talking to, people looking for investments, people with lots and lots of shiny coins… and Charlie has plenty of ideas.

The well-dressed men across the table exchange a look, then turn back to him with their hands folded.

“We’re listening,” one of them says. He has a funny voice- he sounds like an evil cat.

This is new. Charlie almost doesn’t know where to go from here. The last three groups asked him to leave or threatened to have him kicked out, and he’d bounced between them with a 'very well then, good day!’ and a tip of his pipe.

But now, these are smart people. They’re actually listening to what Charlie has to say- no one ever listens to what Charlie has to say! If they did, they wouldn’t be here right now. They’d know that there is no scheme and this is just a stupid date they’re crashing!

So he might as well take advantage of the situation and make himself some coins, or rubies, or chalk, or you know, whatever the currency is where these dudes are from. Either way, it works for him.

“My good men…” -he slaps his hands down on the table for dramatic effect- “have you ever thought gee, I sure am a big fan of red cheese, but it’s hard to eat all this wax? Well-”

“No, no, we’re not interested in any of that,” the other guy interrupts. “We’re interested in her.”

Charlie’s eyes follow the path of his finger, which at first, he thinks might be directed at Dee (but who would want that?).

He sees that he’s, in fact, talking about Frank, who’s busy pulling hairs out of his eyebrow and showing them to a child. Charlie isn’t sure what that is, probably some kind of 'Paddy’s is radioactive’ thing.

“What?” he asks in disbelief. “No way, man, I could never sell-”

A fat stack of money is slammed down on the table. Green money. Paper money. Soft money!

Charlie sneers and leans in.

“I’m listening…”

—–

“Why are we still talking about this, dude? It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh no, you do not get to decide that,” Dennis bites back, jamming his glass in Mac’s direction and spilling a few drops. He’ll admit, he’s a little wine drunk. “If I say it’s a big deal, then it’s a big deal! This is a relationship, Mac.”

Mac seems stunned by that. Maybe that’s the first time they’ve used that word- Dennis isn’t sure anymore. This new bottle of Pinot Blanc he’s ordered is fantastic and his fish is overcooked, so he’s just been drinking… and at this point, everything is starting to blur.

“I know, Dennis.” His tone is softer now, but he’s still arguing. Son of a bitch. Beautiful son of a bitch. “It’s just, this is our thing, and people are always trying to get in the middle of it, and for once, just for like a week, I didn’t want it to be anyone else’s.”

Dennis had really pictured this being the other way around. He’s always the one hushing Mac and urging him to keep things just between the two of them. He assumed Mac would be harassing friends and strangers alike, telling them what an outstanding boyfriend Dennis Reynolds is, to the point of annoyance.

Dennis has always been the one who’s wanted to scream his feelings at the top of his lungs, but didn’t for fear that someone else would hear him. Now that person is Mac, who has so boldly decided to reverse the roles without warning, and Dennis doesn’t know how to be in this position.

He doesn’t even know how to answer. Instead, he swirls his glass, watching the liquid slosh around and around so that he doesn’t have to look up at Mac’s dumb, tender puppy dog eyes.

“You know what?” Mac says, and scoots his chair out. “Fuck it.”

He assumes Mac’s going to walk out of the restaurant. That would be apropos, wouldn’t it? Dennis walks out of the bar for a year and Mac walks out on their dinner date for the night. It’s not even a drop of his own medicine and it still burns like acid.

Whatever. He slugs down the rest of his drink and pours himself another- might as well get hammered.

—–

“Excuse me, Sir, may I refill your water?” Dee asks, doing a shitty voice that sounds like Batman, as she approaches Frank’s table.

He waves her out of the way. “Fuck off, I’m trying to watch Charlie.”

It doesn’t work and she only leans in closer. Her breath smells like old sauerkraut.

“Goddamn it, Frank,” -she’s back to her normal squawking voice- “you two cock socks are going to blow my whole cover here. What are you even doing? Why are you sitting by yourself?”

Frank gives her a shove so he can spy on Charlie’s negotiations. He’s pretty good at reading lips. Like right now, one of the guys is saying something about marrying a horse. Twisted sack of shit.

“Because! Charlie is trying to sell me to those mafia-lookin’ guys. He’s a damn double agent!” Frank hollers through a mouth of bread. “But don’t worry, I solved the problem. As soon as those sons of bitches stand up-”

“For the love of- I don’t care!” Dee flaps her hands around. She looks like a chicken. “I was fine with you two doing your stupid costumes, and pretending to be a couple, and putting your body parts in peoples’ soup, but you cannot make a scene! I am this close to figuring out what Mac and Dennis are up to.”

Frank dips another breadstick in his soda and crams it down his gullet whole.

“Who gives a shit?” he tries to say, but mostly what comes out is root beer bread. He’s already reaching for another. “Charlie double-crossed me-”

Dee snatches him by his feather boa and digs her talons into his collarbone. It does not feel great. Frank swallows his food in fear.

“Listen, you son of a bitch, I don’t care if Charlie sells you, because you know what? You’re worth nothing! If he trades you for a shiny paperclip, which he probably will, it will still be more than you’re worth. You guys had one job! All you had to do was shut up while I spied on Mac and Dennis, but no, you’ve somehow gotten yourselves involved with some foreign investors who clearly don’t mind a short, foul, hairy woman who reeks of salami! I swear to god, if you can’t just sit here and keep a low profile for the next fifteen minutes, I will come down upon you like-”

There are a couple of taps on a microphone, and high-pitched feedback fills the restaurant. Most of the patrons moan and cover their ears.

“Shit, sorry, that was loud. But also, I’m not sorry, because I’ve got shit to say.”

That’s Mac talking.

Dee lets go of Frank and he drops back onto his seat. Both of them turn to watch Mac where he’s standing by the piano. He’s whispering to the pianist- actually, it looks more like he’s threatening him- who starts playing a song that sounds vaguely familiar, but Frank can’t place.

“Look, you’re all here tonight because you have people who love you and care about you and take you on dates and aren’t afraid to let you know how they feel. But let me tell each and every one of you motherfuckers… that person you’re with, that person across the table from you, who seems like the only person in the whole, entire world… they’re a piece of shit compared to Dennis Reynolds.”

Oh, yeah, they’re doing the gay speech thing again. Always a classic. Dee looks surprised as shit even though they’ve been through this, like, eight times.

Frank loses interest and dips another breadstick into his drink. They’re made for each other, they always have been- bread and root beer- he doesn’t get how everybody doesn’t see that.

“The first day I met him, I thought Dennis was the smartest, handsomest, most awesome-est guy I’d ever met- but I was wrong. Because every day I wake up, I meet a new version of him that’s somehow even better than he was yesterday. But I’ve been acting so stupid and scared and lame… because all my life, I thought if I just wasn’t loud about something, it would go away. But I don’t want this to go away, so I’m gonna be loud!”

Daniel (is that his name?) is making a stupid face. He looks like he just won the lottery or some shit.

“Dennis, look, I didn’t tell people about us because I didn’t even think about other people! I almost never do! You’re, like, everything to me, man. And I’m so lucky this happened. You’re the meaning in my life. You’re the inspiration.”

“When you love somebody,” Mac sings along to the piano, except he’s really just yelling, “til the end of time!”

The music fades out, and is immediately replaced by the confused chatter of irritated customers. One of the waiters says something about how he’s got to find another job before he finally ends it all.

“Oh, they’re just bangin’,” Frank says with a shrug.

“Ohhh,” Dee draws out, “that makes sense. Well, see, that- that’s nothing. I don’t care about that.”

“I just can’t believe Charlie didn’t know.”

“Right? He’s usually on top of this kind of stuff.”

They both start to blow the joint, but they don’t get far before a symphony of chairs falling and plates shattering resounds across Guigino’s. Frank looks over to see both of the investors have fallen to the floor atop each other, shoelaces tied together, covered in broken glass. Charlie stops counting the money in his hands and stares, wide-eyed, at Frank.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Frank roars, whipping a wrench out of the back of his dress. If you’re gonna look the part, you gotta act the part!

He charges towards Charlie’s table with the wrench above his head, his wig flying off in the process. “Someone’s got to get bludgeoned!”

“Wait,” Mac says into the microphone, “Frank? Charlie?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” Dennis shrieks. “What are you people doing here?!”

“Wait, actually, that’s pretty funny, Charlie,” Mac chuckles. “Did you do that?”

“No, man!” Charlie shouts back. “That was all Frank! That’s hilarious, man!”

Charlie reaches out to give Frank a high-five… and eh, he decides he’ll forgive him. He tosses the wrench to the floor and gives Charlie’s hand a slap. No one can split up the gruesome twosome, not even a couple of men in black looking to buy a glamorous whore.

“Well, that’s just…” -Dennis chugs the rest of his wine straight from the bottle, half of it ending up on his shirt- “that’s awesome.”

“I know, why hasn’t anyone thought of that before?” Mac laughs into the microphone.

Before either of them realizes she was ever even there, Dee storms out of the restaurant with a growl.

Dennis raises his glass, flinging wine on the couple next to him. “Monthly dinner, baby!”

The four of them hoot and holler together, and yeah, Frank thinks, bread and root beer make a pretty good couple.

#asks #saintmilky #saintmilksteak #i'm sorry this went so off the rails #what even IS this???#IT WAS MY ENTIRE SUNDAY THAT'S WHAT #but oh my god thank you for this ask i loved this i really did #it's always sunny in philadelphia #it's always sunny #iasip #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #charlie kelly #dee reynolds #frank reynolds #macdennis #fics #my writing

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