Work Text:
10:30 a.m.
On a Wednesday
Philadelphia, PA
“Mr. Reynolds this is something you need to take seriously, the low dose medication that we prescribe can—,”
Dennis holds up his hand. “Let me stop you right there, doc. I am a man with an impressive amount of control of his body. I can simply lower my blood pressure with sheer will and determination.”
The Doctor looks doubtful, double checking the numbers on the screen as they speak. “Your blood pressure increased from 149 to 153 just during this conversation,” he states matter-of-factly as he clicks his pen, jotting down the new numbers into his chart.
“You don’t have to write that down,” Dennis murmurs, staring intensely at the clipboard before shifting his gaze back to the doctor. “It only went up because you're doubting me and frankly this is now becoming a high stress environment for me,” he rants, ripping the blood pressure cuff off his arm, watching as the numbers on the monitor quickly dwindle down to zero.
Dennis is not some old man who needs blood pressure medication. He refuses to believe it. He is still young with full control of his mind and body, a god who still possesses the strength to simply lower his blood pressure with pure talent and technique.
“Mr. Reynolds, I am going to prescribe this medication to you,” The doctor informs as he scribbles out the order on his prescription pad. “It’s in your best interest to take it, but of course I cannot force you to. I would still like to see you again in a couple weeks to check in on your progress whether it’s from the medicine or your own…methods.” He adds the last bit with a hesitation that Dennis doesn’t miss.
Dennis agrees with a sigh. Really only doing so just to appease the man as he snatches the prescription out of the doctor's hand before storming out of the office and into the waiting room. The doctor simply isn’t aware of the impressive capabilities Dennis has over his own body, he can’t blame him for that. So he forces out the resentment and anger with a deep inhale, breathing in through his nose and slowly letting it out as he focuses on keeping his blood pressure low.
He steps out into the dated waiting room, eyes peering around the space. Besides the receptionist, Mac—who begged Dennis to tag along claiming it as part of his “roommate duties”—is the only occupant in the room. At the sound of the creaking door, Mac looks up from the Men’s Health Magazine he was flicking through and tries to meet Dennis' eyes.
Dennis purposefully ignores his gaze, strolling to the front desk in favor of avoiding Mac’s questions until they at least get outside. He begrudgingly schedules his follow up appointment with the receptionist and then rushes out of the office feeling his stress level increase every second he is still there.
The walk to the parking lot is quiet for all of two seconds before Mac can’t hide his nosiness anymore. “How’d it go?” he asks, trying nonchalantly to peek at the prescription in Dennis’s hands.
“Perfect. I’ve got a clean bill of health,” Dennis responds sarcastically before he begins waving the stupid paper in his hands. “Obviously not well, Mac. Who gets a prescription if they are healthy?”
Mac shrugs. “I don’t know, man. Maybe it’s for vitamins or something.”
Dennis quirks his brow. “What kind of vitamins would need a signed prescription from a doctor?”
“Fancy Vitamins,” Mac replies like such a thing exists.
Dennis rolls his eyes as he crumples the paper in the palm of his hands. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not taking them anyway.”
He proceeds to launch the rolled up prescription towards the garbage can they happen to pass on the way to the Range Rover. It just misses it, bouncing off the lid before falling to the floor with a pathetic thump.
Mac gasps like Dennis just tossed away a lottery ticket and runs over to grab it off the ground. His eyes widen as he unfolds it, reading the chicken scratch the doctor claims as his handwriting.
“Dennis, this is a prescription for high blood pressure. You need to take these.”
“Oh god, not you too,” Dennis groans.
“You really need to take these,” Mac repeats, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away.
Dennis pulls his arm out of Mac’s grasp. “I’m not taking the stupid pills, Mac.”
“But if you ignore this you could have a heart attack or a stroke,” Mac pauses with horror filled eyes. “Dennis you could die.”
“I’m not going to die,” he says, but Mac still doesn’t look any more reassured. “And I’m not going to ignore it, I can control it. I don’t need the pills.”
“Control your blood pressure? How?” Mac asks, raising his brow at him.
Dennis sighs. “I don’t know, man. I just can—you know that I am in perfect control of my body.”
Mac furrows his brow like he doesn’t quite understand what Dennis is talking about. That is until Dennis gestures to his crotch with his hand. Then Mac’s eyes finally flash with realization.
“Are you talking about the time we had to quarantine at the bar?”
“Yes! That was a perfect example of my control!” Dennis exclaims.
“Dennis, that was your dick. We are talking about your blood pressure—this is serious.”
“I know that! You don’t think I know that?” Dennis argues as he continues walking back to the car. “If I can go from flaccid to erect in a moment's notice why can’t I lower my blood pressure on my own?”
“I don’t know it’s just not the same,” Mac says, opening the passenger side door and hopping into the Range Rover.
Dennis joins him in the car, waiting to ask until he gets behind the wheel and starts the car. “Why not?”
“I don’t know dude. It sounds like it goes against science.” Mac replies before he starts gnawing at his bottom lip as he places the wrinkled prescription on his thigh, trying his best to smooth out the folds and creases with his fingers.
Dennis scoffs. “Since when do you care about science?”
“I don’t. Science bitches are boring, it's just—maybe we should listen to the medical professional on this one.”
Dennis should feel flattered that Mac is so concerned for his well being, that he is actually willing to go against his “science is a liar sometimes” schtick. But, no. He just feels angry.
His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “ We ? There is no ‘we’ in this situation, there’s only me and I am not some old man who needs medication.”
Mac’s gaze flicks over to him. “Is that what this is about? Your age?” When Dennis ignores him, keeping his eyes on the road, Mac takes his silence as a yes. “Dude everyone gets old, it’s the way of life,” he adds with a sigh.
Dennis’ knuckles turn white from the force of which he is clutching the steering wheel between his hands. “Not me,” He grumbles out with dejection.
Mac makes a face, desperate to dispute his argument but he doesn’t. It’s like he can visually see Dennis’ blood pressure tick up by the second so he just lets out another defeated sigh and drops the age thing. “Okay, so what’s the game plan?”
Dennis smiles. “The plan is to simply have a nice, calm, relaxing day free from stress.“
Dennis Takes a Mental Health Day
Dennis adjusts the watch around his wrist as it pairs to his phone. It emits a high pitched ding once it finishes syncing and then the screen flashes before a bright yellow heart symbol pops up on both his watch and phone screen. It glows as it tracks his blood pressure, pulse, and resting heart rate. Basically all the things he needs to monitor in order to take control of his health are encased in one device that he can easily show the doctor to prove him wrong.
“This is perfect,” he says with a laugh, tapping at the screen and watching as results are taken from the watch and recorded right onto his phone.
“It’s a watch,” Mac comments as he searches through their cabinets. “A watch that made us get a flat tire outside of a Best Buy parking lot, get your car towed, and force us to Uber home by the way.”
“That was an unfortunate detour,” Dennis remarks, “But it was worth it because, you see, Mac this is no ordinary watch. It’s a smart watch. It records all the data I need to shove right into that stupid doctor's face.”
“I don’t think your doctor is the bad guy here, he just wants your health to be more better.” Mac reasons as he continues to make a mess of their kitchen drawers.
Dennis glares at him. “Whose side are you on?”
Mac stops in his tracks. “I wasn’t aware that there were sides,” he says slowly.
“Of course there are sides!” Dennis shouts just as the watch around his wrist starts to beep. He sucks in a breath and lets it out through his nose until the beeping fades. “You know what you’re right. I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at the system.”
Mac squints at him. “The system?”
“Yes Mac, the system! The system that makes us all feel forced to abide by its specific and unreasonable rules and changes I—you know what, I don't have time to explain the whole thing to you,” Dennis gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “What are you even looking for?”
“I’m looking for our….” Mac trails off as he pulls the item out from beneath the cabinet, “Pressure cooker!” he exclaims, setting it on the table with a thud.
“Since when do we have a pressure cooker?” Dennis asks, furrowing his brow as he looks at the silver instant pot.
“Since I stole it from my mom.”
Dennis cocks his head. “Your mom has a pressure cooker?” He’s shocked that Mrs. Mac would even own one herself. She doesn’t exactly seem like a prepping home cooked meals type of woman.
Mac makes a face. “Of course she does! My mom’s a fantastic cook, dude.”
Again Dennis doubts it, but he doesn’t voice it aloud. “Uh-huh, so what do you need it for?”
Mac looks hesitant, lips pursed as he withholds information. “I don’t know if I should tell you, Charlie said not to.”
Dennis can feel his anger growing from being out of the loop. Can feel the annoying twitching that starts to happen in his left eye when one of the members of the gang starts to do something that aggravates him. Before he can push Mac for any details his phone starts to ring and his watch buzzes along with it as Frank’s name flashes on the screen.
“That’s probably for me. I was supposed to call them once I found it,” Mac mutters while Dennis answers the facetime call.
Charlie appears on the screen—well it’s more of an unflattering view of his nose—as he holds the phone way too close to his face. “Hey, Dennis. Is Mac there?”
Dennis lifts his brow. “Where else would he be?”
The camera shifts, rustling coming from the speakers before Dee’s face is suddenly on the screen, thankfully at a more reasonable distance. “I told him the same thing, but he refused to listen. Mac is always up your ass.”
Mac lets out an offended scoff that gets ignored as Charlie pops out from behind Dee’s shoulder. “Well he said he was going to be here like an hour ago after your doctor's appointment and he's not soo—oh shit did you get bad news? Are you dying?”
“Failed your STD test, huh? We’ve all been there.” Frank’s voice comes from somewhere off screen.
“What? No. Ew, Frank,” Dennis grimaces uncomfortably, “And I didn’t get bad news. I’m fine.”
“He’s lying. He’s got high blood pressure,” Mac shouts so the others can hear him. Dennis eyes harden as he stares at him.
“Yikes, looks like someone’s getting closer to kicking the bucket.” Dee taunts.
His watch starts beeping immediately as he seethes with quiet anger and unfortunately adds fuel to Dee’s annoying fire.
“Oh no! Is your old man monitor going off?” Dee barks out a laugh and Charlie steals the phone back from her, now a close up of his eyes.
“I’m sorry that you have too much blood, man. That sucks.” He says with sympathy that is completely overridden by his next words. “But are you guys coming in or what? We need that pressure cooker.”
“That’s not what high blood pressure means, Charlie.” His watch continues to beep, but Dennis tries his best to ignore it as he continues, “And what is so goddamn important about this pressure cooker?”
Frank’s round face shows up in the lower right corner of the screen, “We wanna try some family-style cookin’.”
“Yeah man and we want to check how industrial strength this thing is before we use it. See what kind of pressure we are working with.” Charlie pipes in, tilting the camera back to himself. “Oh hey, quick question, are we above or below sea level?”
Dennis blinks. “What?’
“An industrial grade pressure cooker is badass and we need to make sure we are above sea level just to be safe.” Charlie clarifies.
Unfortunately Dee steals the phone again and Dennis is starting to get real tired of all the back and forth. “I already told him we can’t be below sea level, otherwise we’d be underwater.”
“Deandra, we just gotta make sure. If it's under sea level then the things gonna explode.” Frank adds.
Charlie nods his head. “That’s our big worry. You can’t take a pressure cooker under the sea and have it explode.”
“It’s not gonna explode.” Dennis replies once his watch finally quiets down.
“I tried telling them that's not how pressure cookers work,” Dee says, trying to be the voice of reason.
Mac rushes over and sits on the couch next to Dennis, squeezing into his personal space so the rest of the gang can also see him on the facetime call. “So you’re telling me that you can’t bring a pressure cooker onto a submarine? Then how do they feed the entire U.S. Navy?”
Dennis feels his patience starting to thin as they all start clamoring over one another again.
“They don’t pressure cook their shit, Mac. They pack like little rations or maybe a grill,” Charlie rebuttals.
“Oh my god, the Navy argument. Dennis he keeps bringing up the Navy.” Dee bitches.
“Well it's a good argument, Dee.” Mac whines.
Frank doesn’t join in the yelling, but he does chew some pistachios at an obnoxiously loud volume and it’s almost as bad as the fighting.
“Stop! Stop! All of you stop!” Dennis practically pleads, voice rising with his frustration. “I’m calling mental health day.”
He can’t imagine going into work during these idiots' current scheme. And yes he calls it a scheme. He knows that there is no way they are using the pressure cooker for just “family style cooking”. He can actually feel the blood inside him boiling with anger, the vein in his forehead starting to bulge with pent up frustration. The bar will be an unsafe space for him, his blood pleasure might actually sky rocket the second he walks into Paddy’s. The only way to control his health is to not go in at all.
“You’re calling a what ?” Frank asks, face scrunched in confusion.
“A mental health day. It’s like a sick day, but for your brain. It’s a thing that all jobs have now and they are legally required to give you them with no questions asked.” Dee explains.
Frank huffs. “What kind of bullshit is that? Back in my day you didn’t get no brain days, you worked hard for a livin’ or came up with a more creative reason to get outta the job. Not some cuckoo mental day.”
“Frank, back in your day you had child labor and unsafe working conditions.” Dee says flatly.
“They were the only ones small enough to get into all the crevices.” Frank gestures with his hands, holding up his thumb and forefinger with minimal space between them.
“Jesus Christ,” Dennis groans. “It doesn’t matter. I’m taking a mental health day and I’m going to the beach.”
“Ooo the beach,” Charlie awes. “That would be a good way to test our pressure cooker.”
“I could use a beach day,” Dee eagerly agrees with Charlie’s suggestion.
“No. No!” Dennis shakes his head, “I am going to the beach alone where I will simply stare at the ocean in peace and quiet all day.”
If he closes his eyes he can almost picture it. The beach, warm sand, and the sun beaming down on him as he just enjoys the scenery in serenity. Yeah, he really wants a mental health day.
“You guys can stay here and pressure cook whatever the hell you want, I don’t really give a shit.” He adds with a wave of his hand.
“But Dennis, your car is in the shop,” Mac points out, putting his hands up innocently. “That’s not a mental health question, just a question of logistics.”
“Ooh I can give you a ride,” Dee offers, but he knows she’s doing it for purely selfish reasons.
“Dee, stop trying to worm you way into my mental health day.” Dennis scolds before turning to Mac. “It’s fine, I will just rent a car.”
Dee rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Me neither, enjoy your pansy brain day.” Frank adds dismissively, focusing back on his peanuts instead of their phone call.
“Okay well, good luck with all your blood and Mac hurry up with that pressure cooker!” Charlie says before Dennis hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the couch beside him.
Mac begins to fidget with a loose thread on his shirt. “Are you really calling a mental health day?” He asks hesitantly like he knows he shouldn’t question, but wants to out of concern.
“Yes, Mac. I’m really calling it.” Dennis confirms. He see’s Mac go to speak so he holds up his hand. “That means a stress free day where I will not be bothered by anyone, okay?” Mac’s eyes remain on the floor so Dennis ducks his head to meet his gaze. “Okay?” he repeats.
Mac frowns. “Fine. I’ll let the gang know.”
“That means no check-ins either,” Dennis states.
“What?” Mac shouts outraged, “That’s insane, dude! Check-ins are for safety purposes!”
“I don’t care. I will not be bothered today.” Dennis says, picking his phone back up and looking at the newly recorded data from his conversation with the gang.
“One.”
“What?” Dennis glances up from his phone.
“One check-in. Just so I know you didn’t drive your rental car into a ditch or something.” Mac says.
Mac tries to play it off as a joke, but Dennis can see the worry in his eyes.
“Fine,” Dennis agrees with a sigh. “One check-in, but only from you. Nobody else.” He doesn’t even really want to agree to Mac terms, but he also is aware that if he doesn’t Mac will pout and whine and it’s way less annoying to just get one phone call from the man.
“Okay, awesome!,” Mac beams for only a second, his expression shifting into something Dennis knows is going to aggravate him. He quirks his brow and cocks his head as he asks, “Now does that include text messages?”
“Mac,” Dennis warns. Not sure if it’s his tone of voice or the annoyed look in his eyes that gets Mac to drop it.
“Okay, okay, one phone call no texts, got it” Mac relents, before he goes back over to the table and picks up the pressure cooker. He’s going to look like a madman sitting on the bus with an unboxed kitchen utensil and yet by the pep in his step it seems like Mac doesn’t even care. “Have a good mental health day, Den.” He adds with a warm smile before walking out of the apartment, leaving Dennis by himself.
//////////
Dennis isn’t having a good mental health day. In fact, this day is starting off to be one of the most terrible and stressful days he’s ever faced in his life. He actually thinks homestyle cooking—if that’s even what they are actually doing—with the gang back at the bar sounds like a spa day compared to the glimpse into hell that this day is turning into.
First the lady at the rental place informs him that they were overbooked, a problem that existed despite him calling for a reservation. She offered him a fancy electric car as anaccommodation with no upcharge which sounds like a dream, right? Nope, it’s what Dennis is quickly realizing is a nightmare. For every cool feature there is a much more distinguishable flaw to the system. A system that has been screwing him all day whether it's through car rentals or tea shops. Tea Shops that require unnecessary app downloads in order to make a purchase or else you're forced to double your order of already unwanted tea infused with balls of diabetes just to exceed the mandated ten dollar minimum for card usages. Oh and how could he forget the phone company. Mr. Cell Service practically bending him over by having phones only available to the new customers because fuck the old customers. The new customers deserve the phones more than the preexisting customers who already make payments every month.
He can’t even really be mad at the employees because it's not their fault. They are just the poor service workers forced to follow the very system that is currently screwing him over. The rental lady, teashop girl, and cell phone guy all are just stuck abiding by the same soul-crushing standards as him. He’s not mad at them, he’s mad at the situation. A thing he does say to each and every service worker despite being met with the same confused expression each time. And just when he thinks he finally has a win, that things are finally looking up as he walks back to his Tsuma with his new phone fully ready for use, it doesn't sync up to the damn car.
Dennis is forced to Google ‘how to link your Tsuma to your phone?’ and in between a bunch of other complaints about the vehicle he manages to see a link to a help page with further instructions.
“To sync your car to your phone simply open the Tsuma app. Make sure all settings are enabled and then simply hold your phone to the driver side pillar. Once connected you will hear a jingle signaling sync up and your car will be unlocked and ready to use,” Dennis reads the instructions out loud twice before going through the steps himself.
But, it doesn’t work. He clenches his fists by his sides, smartwatch beeping in warning. He breathes through his nose and forces out a stressed chuckle, “It’s fine. No big deal. I’ll just try it again.” He talks to himself, trying to calm down, to reassure himself that everything is in fact fine. That he’s got this.
He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders and then repeats the steps as he recites, “Open app, enable settings, hold phone to door, and jingle.”
Dennis is met with silence as nothing happens.
“Where’s the goddamn jingle?” He yells, screaming at the phone like that will solve his problems. Dennis presses the phone against the car door one more time, but again nothing. He roars with anger, a deep guttural noise of frustration brews in his chest and travels up his throat, escaping his mouth against his will.
“Talk! Talk!” Dennis shouts as he proceeds to slap the phone against different parts of the car. He tries the window, the hood, the windshield, even the top of the car and still nothing happens.
“Talk Goddamn it!” His screams are accompanied by the ever growing beeping of his smartwatch. “Why won’t you talk to each other?” He yells.
Dennis wonders what he’s done in his life to warrant such bad luck. How can one day become so royally screwed up? All he wanted was to go to the beach, to have a nice relaxing day, and pretend for a second that everything was fine. That his blood pressure wasn’t skyrocketing due to the stresses of life. That he wasn’t getting older and losing control. Once the cruel touch of time makes him old enough to start losing control of his body, what else does he have?
With a dampened spirit he picks his phone back up, succumbing to looking up the phone number for the rental company. He needs to start his path of problem solving because he will not be defeated so easily. Before he can dial the number he is interrupted by another incoming call from Frank.
Great.
“What do you want, Frank?” Dennis asks as he picks it up, annoyance in his tone. He doesn’t want another conversation about the gang eating expired French-dip sandwiches.
“The phone company just called informin’ me you added a new line? Is this some sort of brain day scam or somethin’?”
“That’s not even a thing, Frank,” Dennis says with a shake of his head. “And while we are at it why didn't you answer my phone call?”
“Mac said it was some sort of test,” Frank murmurs.
Mac’s voice suddenly cuts in, desperate to explain. “I told him you didn’t want to be bothered Dennis and that you calling was a test you made up to see if I actually relayed the news. Which I did.”
“I said I didn’t want you idiots calling me, not the other way around. I actually needed help!” Dennis shouts.
“So, you want us to call you now?” Mac asks just as Frank says, “Listen, Dennis this cuckoo shit has alot of rules that I don’t care for, all I know is that new phone is comin’ out of your paycheck.”
“Yeah okay whatever Frank, I don’t give a shit and No, Mac. I still don’t want you guys to call me. If I call any of you, you can answer, but the rule is not reciprocated.”
There is silence on the other line as Mac processes his words.
“Okay, but that rule and this current phone call don’t count towards my one check-in call, right?”
Dennis sighs. “No, Mac. You still have your one check-in call.”
“Okay cool, well I’ll let you get back to your mental health day. Have fun!” Mac exclaims.
“Wait Mac, hold—“ The phone clicks as the call ends. “On,” Dennis finishes with a sigh.
He isn’t even sure what he would have said to Mac. Maybe he’d just rant, get all the day’s frustrations off his chest before calling the rental company. Perhaps he’d beg for Mac to come pick both him and his dignity up from the side of the road. Either way he was feeling hopeless. Hopeless, tired, and thirsty. He peaks in the car window and sees his abandoned boba tea in the cup holder, condensation pooling on the side of the cup taunting him. He smacks his head against the glass, and groans, “Goddamn it.”
The next few hours feel like a fever dream. He talks to multiple people from the rental company and Tsuma Roadside. He deals with unhelpful robots who can’t register his name or pin and begs to speak with a human representative. He repeats his information in a mind numbing mantra, ‘Dennis Reynolds. D-E-N as is in Nancy- License plate SX355.’ And he swears after this whole debacle he's going to get the words Help Me tattooed to his forehead.
He doesn’t even feel human. He feels stripped down to a number— a seventeen digit verification number.
He bounces up and down, he paces back and forth, he sits on the hood of the car, and at one point he even climbs on top of it. Walking across it making it creak and tainting the white paint with muddy footprints.
“D as in, Deliver me from this!”
Beep.
“E as in, Engage with Human!”
Beep.
“N as in, Nightmare!”
Beep.
“N as in, Nightmare!”
Beep.
“I as in, Is this Real?!”
Beep.
“S as in, Somebody help me!”
BEEP.
Dennis swears he could scream for eternity. His watch beeps in time with his frustration. He has gone past the point of anger, now he just feels numb. His rage fizzles down to nothing as he lies on his side, body curled onto the hot pavement in a pathetic show of defeat.
Is it so hard to get help? People always say it’s best to reach out for help when you need it and yet he’s been reaching out for hours and keeps coming away empty handed. Maybe he isn’t a part of that expression. Maybe he doesn’t deserve help. Maybe if he wants help the only person he can really rely on is himself.
He’s glad Mac hasn’t called back with a check in. He’s not sure what he would even say in return. That he feels stripped bare and broken. Like his skin has been removed. Like he’s been cut down to bone. Like his muscles have been stretched to raw strings. Like each one of his nerves feel plucked and pulled at like exposed wire. All of this because he just wanted to get through to—
“Tsuma Customer Care line, this is Daisy, thank you for calling us today.”
Dennis has to double take, not sure if he has actually been transferred or if he is hallucinating.
“Hello?” She repeats.
“Hi…hello,” Dennis clears his throat as he sits up, back pressing against the tire.
“Can I please have your name and your seventeen digit VIN?” Daisy asks, customer service voice on full display.
Dennis feels fire in his belly. “No, no, I just-I just entered all that information into the system.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I do need—,”
“That’s okay,” Dennis interrupts. “No, that’s okay. Daisy, was it?” He waits for her confirmation before continuing, “Listen don’t be sorry, I’m not mad at you. I’m a little upset, but not with you. I’m upset with the situation. And-And the situation is this, if you will just give me a second and indulge me, okay?” He sighs, leaning his head back against the car and closing his eyes. “My phone won’t talk to my car. So I called the rental company who told me to call Tsuma Roadside, which I did but they said they can’t help me because this is a question more suited for their supervisor. A supervisor who then put me on with the service center who proceeded to transfer me back to Tsuma Roadside. This repeated for hours and hours until someone finally decided to tell me that there is a goddamn customer care line. Which leads me to you, Daisy, my sweet little wildflower. And I know you didn’t create the system and you aren’t to blame but somebody did. Somebody created this stupid system and I would very much like to blame them for engineering a system so broken that it drives us crazy. So crazy that we have to take days off of work for our mental health!” He rants until he is out of air, until his watch is beeping sporadically, and the vein in his forehead is bulging.
There’s silence on the other end for a couple of seconds. Dennis can only hear the cracking of the phone line and faint breathing.
“I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure what system you are talking about.” Daisy says apologetically.
“The system that decided to fix what isn’t broken. The one that decided that a key, an already well working invention that has been around for years, had to be replaced. The one that says, oh, no key? That's okay, just use the app instead. Let’s just add a whole other app to take up more storage on your phone!” He throws his hand up angrily, no longer able to contain his emotions, “Someone may ask, Dennis, why are you complaining about apps when you freely downloaded one to hack your best friend's asshole? Well to those people I say fuck you, its not the same thing and I have a full list of reasons why, but I won’t bother getting into them right now because that’s not the system being discussed!”
“You hacked what?—Sir I’m not following anything that you're saying right now.” Daisy says.
“I'm talking about the system! The one that created this stupid car! The neat and fancy Tsuma electric car! The ones whose motto should be just don’t lose the “key” and get out of the car or else you will be locked out of your vehicle with no way to get back in! And the no nonsense police officer who pulled you over because the cruise control made you run a stop sign won’t offer you help, no he will just laugh with his cop buddies about the douchebag who got screwed over by his fancy electric car even when you yell at him that it's a rental and you actually drive a car that's almost as old as you are! So old that you have to be prescribed pills for high blood pressure!”
“Okay…Sir, I can hear that you are upset, unfortunately this just seems like a series of unfortunate circumstances.“
“Unfortunate circumstances?” Dennis shouts as he gets up to pace again, “The only thing unfortunate is the system. So tell me Daisy, Tsuma is made in America correct?”
“Well yes it is, but I don’t see how that’s-“
“Where?”
Daisy pauses. “I’m sorry what?”
“Where in America?” Dennis repeats, ready to walk straight into Tsuma headquarters and talk to the true creator of this broken system.
“California.”
“I’m gonna walk straight to California and tell your fancy Tsuma CEO that—,” Dennis stops, “Wait California?”
“That’s correct,” Daisy replies instantly.
He is silent for a few seconds as he weighs his options. His whole plan was to barge into Tsuma headquarters and share all his complaints directly to the CEO. And if he can’t find them there he’d ask someone where they are and he’d travel far and wide just to rip the heart out of the chest of the fancy asshole who created such a flawed system that it messed up what was supposed to be a simple beach day.
“I—Would you happen to know how much an Uber would cost from Philly to California?” He asks even though he knows it’s ridiculous.
“Sir, I don’t think that’s even possible and even if it is, the price would be astronomical.” Daisy informs politely.
He plops back down against the pavement. He feels himself start to shut down, brain starting to become hazy and slow like he’s being drained of all his energy. Every ounce of fight seeping out of him.
“What else can I do?” Dennis asks resolutely as he curls back up on the ground.
“Well, I believe you said that your car won’t start because you are unable to connect your phone to the vehicle, is that correct?” She asks for confirmation, not sure if she picked up the real problem during his whole speech on systems.
Dennis nods before realizing she can’t see him. “Yes.”
“Well I can start the process of getting a tow truck for you, if you’d like?” she says and Dennis feels himself start to perk up. Maybe he will get this all figured out after all.
“Yes, yes please.” He pleads finally grateful for receiving the first steps of help he’s been begging for all day.
“Perfect,” Daisy says cheerfully, “I’ll just need your name, date of birth, and your seventeen digit vin number so I can transfer you—,”
With those words she cuts out any ounce of hope he musters up. Rips it out of him and stomps on it, over and over again. He hangs up the phone, lets it clatter to the ground as he curls in on himself. He’s never leaving the side of the road. He is going to be trapped here alone for the rest of eternity. Nothing can make this day worse.
Of course his inner thoughts are proven wrong by the crack of lightning as rain begins to pour down on him. For the first time all day, which really should be more of a testament to his strength than his weakness, he starts to cry. He lets the tears roll down his face, staining his cheeks and dripping down onto the pavement along with the heavy drops of rain. He cups a hand over his mouth to block out a sob despite being the only one on the side of the road. An action that only makes him cry harder as he is reminded how alone he is. How minuscule and unimportant he feels to the world because all he wanted was help. Just a little bit of help from someone.
Rain pours down on him, soaking his clothes and drowning out his sobs, as his phone begins to ring. He glances at the screen and chuckles wetly.
Mac.
Perfect timing for his check in. He wonders if he would take kindly to Dennis telling him that the only reason he hasn’t driven his car off a cliff yet is because he can’t get the damn thing to work.
He sits up, body feeling weak and drained from his emotions being all over the place. With a shaky hand he answers the call.
“H-hello?” Dennis croaks out, not even caring that his voice cracks.
“Hey Dennis, I was just checking—,” Mac stops, he’s silent for a beat, before he asks. “Where are you man? It almost sounds like you're underwater.”
“Outside,” Dennis replies as the rain pours down on him, straight and harsh, heavy drops of rain smacking against the ground in rapid succession.
“Outside?” Mac pauses again. “Like in your car?”
“Nope,” Dennis replies, popping the ‘p’ as he leans back against the tire. “Outside outside,” he repeats like that will clarify everything.
“Dennis it’s downpouring, you’re gonna get pneumonia!” Mac shouts and Dennis doesn’t even care that he’s right. At his lack of response Mac sighs. “Get in your car, bro.” He scolds.
“Can’t,” he mumbles out as he shivers. There’s a beach towel and blanket in the bag he packed for the beach, but it’s trapped with his hope in the backseat of the car.
“What do you mean you can't? Can you give me a little more than just one word answers, you’re kinda freaking me out here.”
“Sorry,” Dennis apologizes, wincing when it’s still only one word despite Mac’s pleas.
“Jesus—Are you drunk? You sound off.”
Mac keeps talking but he doesn’t pay attention to most of it, Mac’s voice kind of just warbles into a bunch of nonsense, sounding vaguely like the way the adults in the old Peanuts cartoon would speak. Just a bunch of Wah-Wah-Wah as Dennis squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he can see sparks of light. In between the bright bursts he can picture Mac’s face, and can see the wrinkle that Mac gets between his brow when he scrunches his face in concern. He’s always been tempted to smooth it out before, take the pad of his thumb and lightly rub the stress away not wanting Mac to worry. But that went against his own system. See he has his Dennis System and his Sinned System, but he also has another secret system. This one is only for him so it has no acronym, but it’s designed to block out emotions like this. Emotions that make him want to kiss the worry off Mac's face or be vulnerable enough to ask him for help when he actually needs it, not just for silly things like peeling apples or dying his hair to hide the specks of gray. He constructed this no-named-system to seem strong, to protect himself, to be in control even though he feels anything but that now.
“Dennis!” Mac shouts, successfully pulling him from his thoughts. “What beach are you at?”
“I’m not at the beach, I never even made it there,” his voice breaks again and he hates that Mac hears it. He hits the back of his head against the car door with a loud thunk, biting down hard on his lip to stop the sob that’s quickly traveling up his throat from escaping. “The stupid rental company gave me a different car and it doesn’t have a key and I’m stuck on the side of the road and I called customer service but they keep asking for pins and confirmation numbers and nobody can help me because the system is broken. Mac it’s broken or maybe I’m broken and I can’t—,”
“Hey, Dennis. Den. Breathe.” Mac urges softly.
Dennis doesn’t realize he isn’t until Mac says so. But now that his attention has been brought to it he can feel the tightness in chest, how the air gets stuck in his throat, causing a horrifying hitching noise as he tries to suck in oxygen between the rapid rising and falling of his chest. He inhales shakily, holding it in for a few seconds before slowly letting it out. Repeating this method while Mac counts until he doesn’t feel as dizzy anymore.
Mac waits until his panic attack fades, reaching number 176 in his counting before Dennis’ breathing returns to a normal pace. “I’ll come get you, okay? Just tell me where you are.” He says softly like he’s trying not to spook a wounded animal.
“No, no. I-I’m fine.” Dennis shakes his head, using his hand that isn’t clutching his phone to wipe away the tears despite the rain still pouring down on him.
“Den, I’m not taking no for an answer. So please, just let me help you, okay?”
“Okay,” Dennis says quietly, rattling off the closest thing to an address he can muster up. Tells Mac he is about five miles past the stupid boba tea shop and a mile before the electronic store. Mac tells him that he will be there in twenty, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. He's been let down too many times today to start having hope now. He wraps his arms around himself and tries to stop himself from shivering as thunder roars angrily and he is pelted with heavy drops of freezing rain.
He’s not sure how much time passes but he startles awake at the feeling of a hand on his cheek. He sucks in a breath, eyes flying open in panic.
“Hey, you’re okay, it’s just me,” Mac reassures as he strokes his cheek with his thumb, “You're okay,” Mac repeats as Dennis’s breathing starts to return to normal.
He shivers as he looks around, noticing that the rain must have recently stopped and that Mac drove the Range Rover here. Mac notices his eyes lingering on his car, so he says, “They called right after we spoke. Had Dee take me to pick it up rather than her coming with me here to get you, I figured you’d be more comfortable that way.”
Dennis can’t quite find his voice just yet so he just nods. He shivers again as a cool breeze cuts through his damp clothes, it feels like ice on his skin even with the summer heat.
“Jesus, Dennis. You are soaked,” Mac says, just now registering how drenched he is. “I’ll be right back,” he adds before running off to the Range Rover.
Mac comes back with a throw blanket and kneels down beside him. He carefully wraps it around Dennis’ shoulders before using his hands to rub at his arms to try and get some warmth back into his body. “You look like shit,” Mac says, still kneeling in front of him. There’s no malice or judgment in his tone, it’s just pure observation.
“I feel like shit,” Dennis admits as he wraps the blanket tighter around himself. “This day has been shit.” He adds with a wry chuckle, hating that it still comes out wet with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” Mac apologizes.
Dennis furrows his brow. “Why? It’s not your fault. Unless you're secretly the CEO of Tsuma then maybe it is.”
Mac rolls his eyes, but Dennis knows he’s not actually annoyed. “I know it’s not, but I also know you wanted to have a stress free mental health day.” He takes one hand off his arm and brushes the damp hair away from Dennis’ forehead. “I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”
Dennis looks up at him, surprised by not only the contact but how much care is in Mac’s eyes, like he is genuinely sorry that this day didn’t turn out that way he wanted. He is also surprised by how much he doesn’t hate being on the receiving end of such concern. In fact he is so overwhelmed by it he has to force himself to look away.
“Maybe Frank's right. Maybe mental health day is just a bunch of bullshit,” Dennis mutters with a half shrug.
“Franks an idiot. I watched him use the butt of his gun to crack the shells off a dozen pistachios shells, he has no sense of survival.” Mac says as he moves to sit down beside him, not seeming to care that the ground is still a little wet. “Mental health day isn't bullshit and you deserve to actually have one that goes right.” Mac gives him a grin and nudges his shoulder with his own, “I’ll talk to the gang, tell them you get a mental health day do-over.”
“Thanks,” Dennis gives him a small smile in return. He doubts the gang will go through with it, they are a bunch of selfish assholes who could probably give zero fucks that Dennis’ day turned to shit, but it’s the thought that counts. And it means a lot to him that Mac even thought of him at all.
A bit of time passes as they sit next to each other, Dennis has his head on Mac’s shoulder as they sit in silence. He finds himself slightly dozing off as the sun comes out further behind the clouds encasing them in warm light. It’s not unbearably hot, more soothing or maybe that’s because it’s absorbing the cool in his bones that the rain caused. Either way it's comfortable, or maybe he’s able to just breathe easier because Mac’s here. The only person to help him after hours of pleading.
“Hey, you falling asleep?” Mac asks quietly, gently tapping his hand.
“Yeah, sorry,” he apologizes behind a yawn, lifting his head off Mac's shoulder.
“No it’s okay, I just think you should get out of those clothes or else you're going to catch a cold.” Mac says looking at him concerned, the crinkle appearing in between his brows again. Mac lets his impulsive thoughts win and reaches his hand out and runs his hand through Dennis’ curls, “Your hair is wild right now, dude.”
“Stop, I hate it,” Dennis groans, lifting the blanket up from his shoulders so it covers his head, making Mac laugh.
“You shouldn’t, it’s cute.” Mac chuckles before his face turns pink like he just processes what he admitted. “I uh-have a change of clothes in the car, let me grab them for you.” He adds before jumping up and rushing back over to the Range Rover.
Dennis rubs at his eyes, getting up from the ground to look at his reflection in the window of the Tsuma. His face is blotchy and his eyes are puffy from crying. His hair is in fact wild, the rain soaked the product out of it and now that it’s drying naturally it’s curlier than he usually wears it. He certainly doesn’t look cute, but something about Mac saying it makes his heart flutter.
“Here you go, bro,” Mac says as he holds out a duffle bag with a change of clothes.
He takes the bag, instantly being hit with the smells of Mac’s hair gel and cheap cologne, the strong yet comforting smell of Draakor Noir reminding him of home.
Mac rubs the back of his neck. “I just grabbed some of my shit, I was worried as hell so I kinda picked whatever and rushed out of the apartment.”
Dennis feels the fluttering again. Normally in a situation like this he’d make a joke, but everything he’s dealt with today has drained him mentally that he can’t even find it in himself to hide behind humor. The truth is that he is grateful. Mac heard his voice, heard that he needed someone and came to help him. He brought him a change of clothes and picked up his car and came to get him on the side of the road. He did that for him and then he apologized for Dennis not having the day he wanted even though it was in no way his fault. He wrapped him in a blanket and held him close until he was warm again. He thought Dennis’s tear stained face and wild messy curls were beautiful and most importantly he cares.
It means so much that Dennis leans forward and kisses him. It’s quick, a bit more than a soft peck that lasts maybe a few seconds. One that happens out of sheer impulsivity and Mac just manages to return it before Dennis is pulling away.
He doesn’t go far, just enough to see Mac’s face. He looks dumbstruck, brown doe eyes bright, surprised and happy. “Thank you, Mac.” He says sincerely.
“You don’t have to thank me for kissing you back,” Mac mumbles dumbly, brain still working at half a speed as he processes the last few seconds.
Dennis snorts. “I was thanking you for the help, dork.”
“Oh,” Mac says simply. “No, yeah that makes more sense.”
Dennis' gaze flicks down at the ground. “All day I’ve been asking for help, hell I was basically begging for it. I—,” his voice breaks and he pauses to gather himself, “It’s been so long since I’ve felt that alone and I just wanted—needed somebody but nobody came. Nobody came until you and I didn’t even have to ask you, you just knew that I needed you,” he looks up from the ground to meet Mac’s eyes. “I know I take you for granted and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m such an asshole and I never say thank you and I act like it doesn’t matter to me but it does Mac. It does and I’m sorry I haven’t said so until now, I—,”
This time Mac kisses him. It feels like a kiss that is pulled directly from a movie scene. A better way to shut him up rather than words. But this one isn’t chaste, it’s not soft or gentle like the quick kiss Dennis just did. No, it's deeper and longer. It’s better.
His eyes fall shut and he places his hands on Mac’s cheeks, feeling the sharpness of his jaw beneath his palm as he kisses him back. Mac’s hands find their way to his waist, his fingers tugging at his shirt to pull him closer so they are flush up against each other. Mac deepens the kiss, tongue running across his bottom lip begging for access that Dennis eagerly grants. Time stands still as he gets lost in the kiss, he is so enraptured that he almost misses it. Rapid beeping is erupting from his wrist and both Mac and him finally snap out of it just enough to realize it.
Once they do, they both pull away immediately, their eyes landing on the smartwatch that’s beeping like crazy strapped around his wrist and Dennis swears he could die of embarrassment right at this moment. He removes his hands from Mac’s face, goes to completely move his arm out of Mac’s vicinity to block out the damn smartwatch, but Mac grabs his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. They both stare at the watch's face. The heart icon is bright red, it imitates a heart beating rapidly as it continues to beep in warning.
The watch’s system is as follows;
Green is—You are doing great! You are at a healthy, normal, perhaps even calming heart rate. This is a color stage he has yet to be in.
Yellow is— Hey, just a heads up, you're slightly above normal. Maybe try to relax a bit. This is Dennis’s usual level.
And Red is—Holy shit are you okay? Your heart rate is high as fuck, is your chest going to explode?! Dennis' current and most embarrassing level.
Dennis’s face is the exact same color as the stupid little red tattletale strapped to his wrist. He pulls his arm out of Mac’s grasp, nervous fingers scrambling to remove the damn thing from his wrist. The beeping finally stops once it’s removed from his arm, no longer able to track his emotions as Dennis launches it into the open road. It lands hard, he swears he might have even heard it crack and he hopes it gets an even worse fate, maybe he will drive over it later. Crunch the stupid thing beneath his tires for embarrassing the absolute shit out of him.
When Dennis looks back at Mac, he finds him smiling. It's a beaming smile, his eyes are lit up to accompany it. He looks like the fucking cat that ate the canary. Just relishing in it, the bastard.
“That might be the best compliment ever,” Mac smirks, singing his own praises to really hammer it home.
“Oh relax, don’t stroke your own dick. The stupid thing’s been weird all day, it’s probably a fluke.” Dennis murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So if I go get it, put it back on you, and then kiss you again. You're saying it won’t beep?” Mac says trying to play off ‘being serious’ but the grin on his face betrays him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I threw it in the middle of the road, it’s probably broken.”
Mac purses his lips, squinting out at the open road. “No way, it’s still lit up see.” He says pointing an obnoxious finger out at the road and towards the still flashing device.
Dennis glares and slaps his hand away. “Go ahead. Go grab it, I hope a car hits you while you're out there.” He grumbles, waving his hand in the direction of the street.
Mac just laughs which really shows how fucked up their—whatever you call it—is. He grabs at Dennis’s crossed arms and tugs him closer, their noses barely touching. “Are you pouting right now?” He teases.
“Fuck you,” Dennis goes to smack his chest but Mac catches his hand, holding it between both of his own. He goes to say something else, Dennis can tell he’s going to be a wise ass, but his eyes widen once Dennis’ hand is trapped between his.
“Jesus Christ dude your hands are fucking freezing,” Mac exclaims as he rubs Dennis’ cold hand between his own trying to bring some warmth back into his fingers.
Dennis looks up, amused. “I’m soaking wet Mac, I probably have hypothermia.”
“Pfft, don’t be dramatic.” Mac says, grabbing his other hand and doing the same thing to it. “You should really go get changed though, like you're definitely going to be sick tomorrow.”
“Are you sure I can get changed or do you want to try and kiss me again?” Dennis taunts.
“First off you kissed me first,” Mac starts, “And second you didn’t seem to hate it.” He finishes smugly.
Dennis makes a face just to mess with him, “Eh it was alright.”
“Oh really?” Mac chuckles, “Want me to go ask the watch?”
“No, don't ask the damn—,” Dennis groans. “I’m not going to live this shit down am I?”
Mac pretends to ponder, tapping at his chin with his index finger. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Ugh fine!” Dennis throws his hand up. “You get one more time to bring this up and then it shall never be mentioned again, deal?” He says, offering up a fair alternative.
Mac smiles. “Deal.”
“Great, now go ahead. Let it out. Make it worth it,” Dennis says, picking Mac’s duffle bag up from the ground and closing his eyes, not wanting to see Mac’s face while he jokes about it.
It’s silent. He pops one eye open to see that Mac hasn’t moved, in fact he still has that same wise ass smirk on his face.
“Well….” Dennis trails off, fully staring at him now as he waits.
“Nah, I think I’m gonna save it.” Mac says nonchalantly.
Dennis knits his brow. “Save it for what?”
“I think I’ll save it until we are back at Paddy’s. Maybe around the rest of the gang.” Mac replies with a half shrug trying to play it cool.
“You wouldn’t dare?” Dennis challenges.
“Oh I would dare, Dennis. I definitely would,” Mac says back, wiggling his brows at him.
“You’re an asshole.” He says attempting to throw the wet blanket at him.
Mac catches it, only getting slightly damp from the linen. “That’s not a very cute pet name.”
“Pet names? Mac, we are in our mid to late forties, we don’t need pet names.” Dennis trails off into the woods to change not wanting to risk it just in case a car actually comes down this road.
“That’s not a fun attitude, pookie.”
“No! Absolutely not, Mac. Don’t call me that. It’s horrendous!” Dennis shouts, not visible from behind the foliage so it almost seems like Mac is being scolded by a disembodied voice.
“Well, I need something to call you!”
“I have a good idea, how about you just call me by my name!” Dennis shouts back, shedding his damp clothes in exchange for the warm dry ones from Mac’s bag. It was a pair of sweatpants that he had to double knot in order for them to stay up and Mac’s signature Riot shirt. It smells like him and that’s enough to soothe him, to make him feel like things were finally going to be okay.
Dennis wanders out between the bushes as Mac is starting the Range Rover back up, probably to get the heat going to help rid him of the deep chill still in his bones.
“You look good,” Mac says as he hops out of the car.
Dennis raises his hand and gestures down to the triple knotted strings keeping his pants from falling to his ankles. “They barely fit.”
Mac just shrugs. “I still like the way you look in my clothes, Den.”
He says it so nonchalantly that Dennis is stunned. His face is flushed red as he blushes, looking down at the gray shirt that is wrinkled and baggy on him.
“I’m going to drive. You are still a bit shaky and I think it’s better if you relax. I called a tow-truck so they will come handle the car. I say we hit the road, it's not like we can help them much anyway.” Mac shrugged as opened the passenger side door for Dennis. “I know you don’t like me driving your car, but dude I’ve gotten much better at driving, and you can just think of me being your chauffeur as a part of your mental health day.”
Dennis didn’t like it, but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t feel like driving and Mac made it here in one piece he was sure he could get them back just as safely. “Yeah, okay.”
He gets into the passenger seat, buckling his own seatbelt before Mac can offer to do it and waits as Mac gets behind the wheel. Mac is messing with something in his hands before he reaches forward and grabs his wrist. Dennis almost pulls away, but Mac rubs his thumb on the back of his hand to get him to relax so he stays put. Something is clasped around his wrist and when Mac pulls away Dennis left is staring at the damn watch. It has a crack down the center of the screen making the heart seem shattered but it still works. It thumps against his wrist and he watches as Mac taps the screen with his finger to see if it records a number, which it does. “Look it still works,” Mac beams, staring at the yellow pixelated heart before meeting Dennis' eyes.
“I guess so,” Dennis mutters because he doesn’t know what else to say. He just stares at the little yellow heart as it mimics a beating rhythm. “Where are we going?” He asks Mac when he notices the man put an address on his phone's GPS.
He is shocked for two reasons. The first being that Mac is actually using directions instead of claiming he was man enough to know his way around unprompted and two that they just weren’t going straight home.
“To the beach. The day isn’t over which means you still are on your mental health day. You are going to see the beach today if it’s the last thing I do.” Mac replies as he sets his phone up so he can properly see it before he puts the car in drive, and they start to move.
Dennis is stunned for what feels like the hundredth time that day. He can’t believe someone cares this much about him. He feels a warmth in chest that he hasn’t felt in so long, if not forever. It’s enough to make him emotional but he holds back. The radio begins playing a new song and it’s one that he recognizes instantly.
He smiles and turns it up before he reaches across the gear shift and takes Mac’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He doesn’t say a word, but he hopes Mac knows him well enough to understand. Mac squeezes his hand gently and smiles back at him. Dennis inhales deeply before letting it out through his nose and when he looks back down at his watch for the first time today, the little heart icon is green.
He is good. He is safe. He finally listened to his heart.
Listen to your heart when he's calling for you
Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do
I don't know where you're going and I don't know why
But listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye