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Charlie stumbled up to Mac and Dennis’ door, coughing violently into his arm. He felt nauseous and hot all over. Any rational thought he had went out the window when he was almost positive he was going to be sick. With the remaining strength he had, he made his way to Dennis and Mac’s. Frank was out of town and he hoped that they could tell him what was wrong with him. He weakly knocked on the door, only to groan and hold his stomach.
Dennis answered the door, his brow furrowing at Charlie. Once he recognized Charlie’s hunched posture and damp hair, he ushered him inside.
“Charlie, what’s going on? You look sick, man. Really sick.” Dennis spoke, making sure Charlie sat down steadily.
Charlie glanced at him, still clutching his stomach, “I don’t know… I was feeling fine today until an hour ago.”
“Alright. I think we should take you to urgent care. You really don’t look good. You think you’re well enough to sit in a car, buddy?” Dennis asked, more gently than usual.
Dennis got sick somewhat often and ever since he’d moved in with Mac, he’d been taken care of whenever he wasn’t feeling well. He was sure that Frank was incapable of taking care of anyone, so he felt bad for Charlie. If he could be of any comfort to him, he’d gladly try to help. Despite the amount of teasing, Dennis cared for Charlie more than he’d like to admit. The thought of him being sick—or even worse—frightened him. It wouldn’t be a lie if Dennis said the worst nightmares he’d ever had were of Mac, Charlie, or Dee dying.
As the years went on, it’d been increasingly hard for Dennis to feign indifference. In the last few months, he’d stopped caring as much. If he wanted to show Charlie that he was important to him, who was going to stop Dennis? No one. Especially when Charlie was sick.
“I’ll be—“ Charlie paused, wincing, “fine.” He croaked out the rest of his sentence.
Dennis lifted his hand, Charlie watching him in confusion. He gently rested his palm on Charlie’s forehead, ignoring the sweat that inevitably got onto his hand. Charlie melted under Dennis’ touch, his eyes drooping from the smallest amount of physical affection.
“You feel hot to the touch, man. We should get you to urgent care—“ Dennis was cut off by Mac walking into the room and glancing between the two. He studied Charlie’s features. It took him a total of ten seconds to realize that Charlie was sick.
“Charlie, what’s going on, dude?” Mac questioned, walking over to the two. Dennis rolled his eyes, “It’s pretty obvious, Mac. He’s sick and we should get him to urgent care… preferably now.”
Mac squinted at Charlie as if he were trying to figure something out. Dennis was starting to feel agitated. What was Mac waiting for? Did he want Charlie to collapse? They didn’t know what he had. He could be on death's doorstep without them even knowing. The silence was filled with Charlie groaning quietly and grabbing his stomach with both hands.
Just then, Mac spoke up, “Charlie, what have you eaten today?” as if he’d just cracked a code, he awaited Charlie’s response expectantly.
“Dude, what the fuck does that have to do with anything? We should get him to urgent care now.” Dennis groused, rubbing his forehead exasperatedly.
“Let him answer this first, Den—and while you’re at it—can you get him a trash can? He’s going to be sick in the next few minutes. Anyway, Charlie, can you tell me what you’ve had to eat today?” Dennis stared at Mac dumbfounded as Mac finished speaking, awaiting Charlie’s response. It was rare that Mac demanded something, but Dennis knew that he was most likely right. Charlie did look like he was going to be sick any second.
Dennis made his way into the kitchen quickly, grabbing a trash can that sat in the corner. It was an older plastic one that they never used. He figured that it would work just fine and came back to the living room right in time to hear Charlie listing off the foods he’d eaten so far that day.
“Well, I had cat food this morning, then fritos, a bag of sour gummy worms, two hershey's bars, two bags of popcorn, graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows—“ Charlie paused to try and remember if he’d had anything else, “I think that’s it. Frank wasn’t there and I can’t cook a gormer meal or anything so…”
“Gourmet… and you’re saying that you haven’t eaten a proper meal since Frank left? Charlie, that was two days ago. You’ve got to be kidding.” Dennis sighed, now knowing why Mac had them hold off on going to urgent care. He’d ask Mac how he knew what was wrong with Charlie later, but for right now he’d focus on the task at hand.
Charlie looked down at his feet and frowned, not wanting to face Mac and Dennis. He already felt dumb enough for not being able to make any real meals. He didn’t need their pity too. Maybe he’d leave now that he knew he wasn’t dying or anything.
That thought was short lived though. Just as Charlie was about to say he should leave, he felt bile rising in his throat. Mac, somehow reading his mind, shoved the trash bin right below his face. Charlie let out a whine and grabbed the bin from Mac, emptying his stomach into it. Both Mac and Dennis looked at each other with mutual disgust and pity.
Without much hesitation, Dennis rested his hand on Charlie’s back and began to rub it gently, “You’re okay, we’ve got you.”
This statement surprised Dennis. Verbal affirmation and comfort wasn’t something that had ever been easy for him. He wasn’t sure when it was necessary or appreciated, and even if he assumed it was, he felt like it wasn’t his place. Charlie was a little too busy to react to Dennis’ statement. Mac, on the other hand, looked down at Dennis with wide eyes. He sat down next to the two of them and wiped Charlie’s hair back that was glued to his forehead.
Mac had usually been the one to take care of Charlie when he was sick in the past. He’d been there for colds, the stomach flu, and especially when he would eat too much candy. Charlie had gotten sick from too much junk food two times in the past so Mac was able to recognize the signs now.
Eventually, Charlie’s heaving stopped. Mac lowered the bin, but Charlie didn’t lift up his head. The tears in his eyes were too embarrassing for anyone else to see. Of course, he couldn’t keep his head down forever. Mac ran out of the room for a moment, coming back with a paper towel and wet washcloth. He lifted Charlie’s chin up to see the tears in his eyes. He wiped Charlie’s mouth, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. This wasn’t a completely abnormal gesture for when Charlie was sick. Mac had done it before, but not often. Charlie felt a rush of comfort flood his senses.
“Den, wanna lay him down so I can get this washcloth on his forehead?” Mac asked as he gently wiped away a tear that cascaded down Charlie’s cheek. Dennis nodded and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder softly.
“Do you mind if I lay you down on me, Char? Mac can get a blanket with holes so it doesn’t keep you too hot but you still have something on you.” Dennis offered. Charlie nodded silently immediately after his question. With that, Dennis maneuvered Charlie and himself around so that he was laying on the couch and Charlie was on the side of him with his head on his chest. Mac grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and put it over them, then placed the washcloth on Charlie’s head. He let out a relieved sigh.
To say he was comfortable was an understatement. Sure, his stomach still hurt and he’d probably throw up again later, but it was considerably more manageable. Dennis’ body was cool beneath him and Charlie couldn’t resist the urge to allow his eyes to fall shut. Mac sat on the end of the couch, pulling Charlie’s legs into his lap. He turned on the tv, queueing up some action movie that Charlie wouldn’t even be awake to see five minutes of. Mac drew shapes along Charlie’s legs comfortingly as Dennis wrapped an arm around him.
Being taken care of was one of the best feelings in the world. Those times in his life were so few and far in between, it was a wonder it ever even happened at all. Dennis and Mac always seemed to find a way to make him feel comfortable though. He nuzzled his head into Dennis’ chest and kept his eyes shut, feeling sleep overtake him. He was sure that nothing mattered more than this.