Work Text:
just give me one bad night
"You're really going, huh," Mac asks flatly as Dennis sits down on the other side of the couch.
"Don't make me think, Mac."
"Okay."
He reads his book in silence next to Dennis, who's absentmindedly poking at his cell-phone. They stay like that, for neither of them have anything to say that won't kill what's left of the moment. For all Mac knows, he could leave at 4 in the morning before even a chance to say goodbye, yet he doesn't feel like he should. It's an inexplicable emptiness he's never truly felt before. It's shock, and something else unplaceable, he decides, before closing his book and dropping it on the floor.
Dennis flinches--silence is thick, but shrouds no harsh sound--and glances over at Mac. His usually slicked-back hair is fluffy and messy, still kind of wet from the shower he wished he'd joined. One last something would be nice, but neither of them want to make a move. It hurts Mac's chest to think about... not having Dennis anymore. It hurts more than broken bones and all the gashes and bruises he'd collected over the years combined, just differently. He guesses Dennis isn't feeling it the same, of course Dennis feeling anything is rare, but he's sitting in the same false paralysis and weak confusing ache in his chest. He shuts his eyes for a moment.
The only light making its way through the horrendously patterned curtains is a lone streetlamp full of orange glare; the windows filtering it to a tone of unsettling nostalgia. Passing cars' headlights reflect on the puddles outside, sending little speckles of light to dance on the walls and their skin. Rain falls outside, beating down on the roof and creating a sort of excuse to not talk.
Mac turns his head and rests it on the back cushion and lets his eyes settle on Dennis. It's always Dennis. With his stunning facial structure, of course Mac would stare. Mac used to stare at him in high school, and kids made fun of him for being gay before it ever began to dawn on him.
He blocks that memory as soon as it starts.
A particularly bright car drives past, momentarily sprinkling Dennis with little white light spots. It's a pleasant treat to Mac's fading attention. He looks down at his hands in his lap and frowns at the developing bruises on his knuckles. Explainable, yet stupid. He'd panicked earlier that day, and naturally went out to the alley behind Paddy's. He would go there and just punch the brick wall a few times, claiming it not only got stress, anger, and all that out, but made him seem manly. Mac's skewed perception of things he thought were badass. They just left tender purple marks... Like Dennis used to leave on his neck, then cover up with his expensive foundation the next morning. Mac would begrudgingly let him, knowing it was either that or everyone knowing he'd had sex with Dennis.
"You feeling that too?" Dennis questions softly but suddenly. Mac takes a few moments to process the inquiry, and shrugs.
"I'm feeling a lot of things, Den." He quickly adds: "But also, not a lot. I don't know."
"I'm feeling more than normal, and it's confusing me, but I'm talking about that dull pain, you know, right in your chest," Dennis murmurs.
"Yeah," Mac responds.
Dennis, for the first time, initiates an emotionally charged touch. He inches closer and closer to Mac, who notices and just pulls him over, fast and not as gentle as he'd wanted. And they stay like that, just melting into each other's touch, for a few minutes. It's good.
"What am I going to do without you, Dennis?" Mac mumbles, one bruised hand on the other man's shoulder. It should be a scene right out of a movie, their eyes meeting and staying put for a long moment. And then their lips meet, and it makes their chests hurt even more, but it also feels so right and good and perfect and--real.
Dennis wraps his arms around Mac, hugging him tighter than usual. They kiss, fingers intertwined, just like a cliche movie moment, eyes shut and mouths both tasting of a tinge of alcohol and each other.
"I don't fucking know. You'll be okay, though, right?"
"No." Mac's eyes begin to well with tears and Dennis doesn't really know what to do.
"You'll make it work."
"I don't want to."
Dennis wipes under Mac's teary eyes with his shirtsleeve and kisses him again, and then waits for him to fall asleep before hesitantly slipping out of the embrace. He downs the rest of Mac's glass of water and quietly puts on his shoes.
"You're going to be just fine, baby boy."
The door locks behind him.