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Mac has never had a great relationship with his family. As a child he really did love his parents to no end, even if they weren't perfect or at the very least decent. They had a tendency to be neglectful and treat Mac like an afterthought, always putting themselves first. Their marriage wasn't good either and their idea of how to raise a child was… well, Mac learned discipline the hard way. He likes to pretend he doesn't remember the violence and fear, he likes to pretend that the blanket fort in Charlie's room didn't seem safer than his own house. He likes to pretend his childhood was good and his parents loved him.
Well, it's true to an extent. His dad loves him. Kind of. Or at least he did until the day Mac put on that whole performance in front of him and his inmates to come out. Mac hasn't heard from him ever since but even before that Luther believed in tough love. Truth be told, Mac never even heard the words “I love you” from him, no matter how pleading his eyes would get whenever he tried to get his dad to say it back. Luther never did. The only evidence of his love, that Mac had, was in that one letter and that's it. All in all he wasn't the worst father of all times. He did what he thought was best and Mac knows it. He also knows it isn't enough to fully forgive him. Mac loves his dad but the pain he caused to his younger self—which later turned into a multitude of mental issues—and to his older self, left a big, nasty scar not just on his heart, but his soul.
And then there’s his mom. She was always more distant. Mac loved her as much as his father, because what else was he supposed to do? He was a child in need of unconditional love and support from his caretakers and, though he would never admit it, definitely not sober, that same scared child is still present somewhere in him today.
Family is difficult for Mac.
So, when he gets an invitation to his cousin's wedding in his mail, he doesn't hesitate for a second, deciding he needs to go and get some semblance of normalcy in the familial sphere of his life.
He and his cousins got along well, back when he was younger. They played together like regular kids would and they didn't seem to mind the cigarette burns on his arms. Mac has generally fond memories of them, the main problem is that there isn't much to remember in the first place. His extended family was wary of his parents, not necessarily on good terms with them, to be honest. In the beginning his uncles and aunts simply avoided interacting with Mac's closest family as much as possible, but once Luther went to prison, they cut ties with them entirely and Mac didn't get in touch with his cousins until his twenties when he moved out. And that didn't change much anyway because they still rarely talk to each other.
And yet, there it is, the chance to change it, right at his fingertips.
Mac folds up the ornate card and puts it away on the coffee table to grab his phone and dig through his contacts, finally finding his cousin's name. His thumb hovers over the call button for a few seconds before he finally gathers himself enough to press it.
She answers after three long beeps. “Hello?”
“Hi, Leah! It's Mac- I mean, Ronnie,” Mac corrects himself, silently cringing at both the slip up and his real name. He has mentioned the nickname to her before but she never really took to it.
“Oh! You got the invitation, then,” Leah replies with something that sounds a lot like excitement in her voice. Mac thinks he might start jumping up and down, as the prospect of reconnecting with his family becomes more real by the second.
“Yeah! I'll be there for sure,” Mac tries to hide his enthusiasm, or at the very least tone it down. “Wouldn't wanna miss it for anything, dude.”
Leah giggles into the phone, as Mac realizes his mistake and feels embarrassment creeping up his neck.
“Come on, Ronnie! Don't call me ‘dude’, I'm gonna be a bride in a month!” she complains without any real discontent behind her words. Mac can hear the smile in her voice.
“Right, sorry,” Mac apologizes anyway, “I don't hang around women that much so it just kinda slipped out.”
He hangs around Dee, who is a woman and who he absolutely doesn't treat how the society would expect him to. Dee is different, though. She might be a woman but she's a bitch, first and foremost.
Leah hums in understanding, “So, I assume you don't have a girlfriend to bring along?”
“Oh, no,” Mac is quick to reply and he doesn't even stop to consider that Leah is still part of his somewhat shitty family, before he blurts out, “No, I'm gay, actually.”
It's only after he says it, that the realization hits him, and he freezes in his spot.
Luckily, his cousin doesn't leave him hanging for more than two seconds, as she asks, “Oh, really?”
Mac releases the breath he's been holding. “Yeah, I know. Kinda unexpected.”
“It's not that unexpected,” Leah says, all casual, no signs of wanting to uninvite him. “You always had that thing for Chase Utley.”
“What? No, come on, that was a guy thing, not a gay thing,” Mac defends himself, because there's no way anyone could've clocked him as gay back then. It's not like his and Charlie's bullies at school called them fags because they actually believed they were gay. They called everyone they didn't like all kinds of different slurs, this one being their absolute favorite.
“Sure, Ronnie,” Leah doesn't sound particularly convinced but drops it. “You’re bringing a boyfriend, then?”
“Boyfriend?” Mac repeats eloquently, before her question fully gets through his thick skull and reaches his brain. “Oh, yes! Yes, I'm taking my boyfriend with me, obviously.”
“Okay, great! I can't wait to meet him, and to see you, of course!” Leah says cheerfully. “We clearly have some catching up to do.”
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Mac awkwardly shifts his weight from one leg to the other, something telling him that this could totally backfire.
“See you in a month, Ronnie!”
“Yeah, see you, Leah,” Mac mirrors and then comes the short beep, announcing the end of the call.
Mac obviously doesn't have a boyfriend he could take, so he does the only reasonable thing there is to do.
“Dennis!”
* * *
Dennis doesn’t agree to fake-date Mac, for some reason. Mac doesn't really get what all the fuss is about, but after Dennis is finished with his outburst over how ridiculous and preposterous Mac's plan is, ending it with a slam of the door to their apartment, Mac goes back to drinking the beer he opened before reading the wedding invitation—it's now warm and not even really fizzy anymore, which makes it disgusting, but this is a zero-waste household when it comes to alcohol—and then he shoots a text to Charlie.
▶ Dennis got pissed and stormed out, wanna come over and watch Predator?
Charlie takes a while to reply, but Mac isn't sure if he just struggles to read his text and type out an answer or if he’s away from the phone. Eventually Mac's phone lights up with the notification.
▶ ok but i wont 🍕🍺
▶ olso r u sad
Mac's eyebrows pinch together at the last message.
▶ I’ll order pizza but why would I be sad
Charlie's reply to that is a little quicker. It's also just one word.
▶ denis
It doesn't really help Mac understand what’s going on in Charlie's mind but he ultimately decides he doesn't care.
▶ Dude just get your ass over here
Charlie doesn't reply to that one and Mac takes it as an ‘okay’.
* * *
“Wassup with Dennis?” Charlie asks, as soon as his ass hits the couch, slurring his words a bit. He'd had some of his emergency bleach-whiskey before he came here, because cleaning the toilets at Paddy's sometimes requires reinforcements.
“Huh?” is the only thing that leaves Mac's mouth, as he opens the pizza box and takes a slice.
“How’d you piss him off?”
Mac leans back on the couch and stuffs his face full of pizza and doesn't wait until he's done chewing to reply, “Oh, I asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend.”
Charlie stares at him with a blank face. “Why?”
“My cousin invited me to her wedding and I need a plus one,” Mac explains with a shrug and takes another bite of the pizza.
Charlie snaps out of his initial confusion and grabs a slice for himself before he eyes Mac with curiosity. “And you immediately thought of Dennis?”
“Yeah,” Mac confirms. “But he won't do it. Which, by the way, super fucking lame, because he has done it before, you know? It's just that ever since I'm out he thinks I'm in love with him.”
“Dude,” Charlie says, dead serious, “you are so in love with Dennis.”
“What?” Now it's Mac's turn to be confused. “No, I'm not.”
Charlie squints as he says, “Eehh, I'm pretty sure you are, man.”
Mac blinks a few times, trying to understand why Charlie would ever think that. Sure, Mac and Dennis are close, used to be even closer than they are now, to be honest, but Mac also knows Dennis. Nobody who really knows Dennis would want to be with him, unless they were extremely masochistic. Does Charlie think Mac is masochistic?
“Christ, Charlie, why would I be in love with him?” Mac looks at Charlie with just about a million questions painted across his face. “Dennis is a bastard, literally. A sexy one, but still a bastard.”
Charlie does that thing, where he looks around the room like he's trying to see if anyone else heard the words he did, even though he knows they're alone. Only then does he reply, “Yeah, calling him sexy is not helping your case.”
“Guess not,” Mac briefly agrees before going back to defend himself, “but, Charlie, I'm serious, I'd rather bang Cricket.”
Charlie’s eyes widen, as the pizza he's been chewing abruptly makes its way down his airway, and he starts to violently cough. The help comes in the form of a few pats on the back from Mac and they do absolutely nothing, but soon enough Charlie stops choking and gets to breathe somewhat easily again.
“Cricket? Rickety Cricket?” Charlie rasps out, incredulous, as he brings a can of beer to his lips and takes a sip to soothe his throat. “That guy has, like, eighteen different diseases. You sure you’d rather sleep with him than Dennis?”
“I'd rather sleep with Cricket than date Dennis,” Mac corrects Charlie, as if that makes a difference. The majority of people finds Charlie to be too gross to sleep with, which he can somewhat understand, but Cricket? Oh, Cricket is so, so much worse. At least ten times more gross than Charlie could ever be and there is no way Mac would lower himself to that level. Charlie? Maybe, if his feelings towards sex in general weren't lukewarm at best and he was desperate enough, but Mac? Not a chance.
“Okay,” he says after a few beats of silence and takes another sip of his beer. “For the record I don't believe you.”
“Why?”
Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn't bang Cricket.”
“Of course I wouldn't, that's the point! The same way I wouldn't date Dennis,” Mac argues.
“Sure, just, like, don't go around telling people that,” Charlie advises, getting a questioning look in return. “It's just… If your obsession with Dennis isn't romantic it makes it that much more sad.”
“You're one to talk,” Mac deadpans. Out of everyone in the world, Charlie has the least rights to criticize anyone for being obsessed with another human being. Not after stalking the same girl for, what, fifteen years straight? Mac is not listening to a single word that comes out of this hypocritical asshole’s mouth.
“Well, at least I thought I was in love with her,” Charlie reasons and Mac only rolls his eyes at him.
“Yeah, whatever, man, that’s not the point,” he replies, trying to shut down the topic of his supposed obsession with Dennis. “The point is, I need a date for the wedding.”
“You want me to go grab Cricket?” Charlie asks and Mac genuinely can't tell if he's joking or not. Charlie can be ridiculous sometimes, taking things seriously when they're not meant to be, or the exact opposite. Mac thinks that all the glue-huffing he did in middle school must've fucked up his mental development and that's why Charlie is so goddamn weird now. Not that he ever was your ordinary kid, because he was always a little odd, just not quite to the same extent as he is as an adult. Understanding Charlie's thought process now is nearly impossible, even for Mac.
Eventually he decides to treat Charlie’s question as genuine. “What? No, I want you to fake-date me.”
Charlie doesn't reply, only raises an eyebrow and lets the silence fall over them like a thick, scratchy wool blanket, one you'd get in a cabin at a cheap summer camp. Mac hates it, although as kids, Charlie was always the more picky of them two, when it came to things like fabrics and furniture. The Kelly household, while still terribly dysfunctional, was much softer and that included the blankets.
When it’s clear that Charlie doesn't plan to speak up, Mac sighs and adds, “Please?”
“What's in it for me?”
“Free food, duh,” Mac replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And, to be fair, it is pretty obvious.
“Deal,” Charlie agrees and Mac takes a few seconds to look at him in surprise. This was actually a lot easier than he'd anticipated. Either way, he's happy the plan worked and he brings his can slightly up and towards Charlie, to which he does the same and the aluminum clinks together to celebrate them reaching an agreement.
“Cheers, boyfriend ,” Charlie says before tilting the can up and downing the rest of its contents in one go.
Mac cringes at Charlie's sad excuse for a toast but immediately follows it up with emptying his own can, punctuating it with a loud burp. “We should probably set some ground rules.”
“Sure, man, but can we watch the movie first?” Charlie asks, getting up to take another beer out of the fridge.
“Good thinking,” Mac agrees, referring to both the movie and the beer.
* * *
Waiting to talk about the boundaries after the movie turns out to be a pretty bad idea, since, by the time the credits roll, they're both tipsy, so the line between what is and isn't okay gets a little blurry. It's whatever, though, they've been more drunk than that, doing shit much more dangerous than deciding whether they're fine with holding hands or not.
“So, pet names?” Mac starts with something simple. He's half-lying on the couch at this point and Charlie himself is in a similar position, except one of his legs made its way to Mac's lap. Not without a fight, of course. Charlie initially put both of his legs there and tried his best to keep it that way. Alas, he was no match against Mac's relentless whining and complaints about how Charlie's feet smelled terrible, accompanied by him repeatedly pushing his legs back down on the floor. So, one leg up, one leg down was decided to be the best middle ground.
“Yeah… I don't think so,” Charlie replies, making Mac throw his hands up in a silent ‘what?!’. After all, Charlie was the one to refer to him as ‘boyfriend’ as soon as the deal was made.
“Wow, we're off to a great start,” Mac complains with an accusatory stare directed at Charlie.
“Sorry, there's, like, no way I'm ever calling you, like, baby and shit.” Charlie grimaces at the mere mention of such thing. “It feels gross in my mouth.”
Mac huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “If that feels gross in your mouth then I guess kissing's off the table too?”
Charlie shrugs. “Kissing always feels kinda gross in my mouth but I don't hate it.”
“You're so weird, man,” Mac says after a few seconds of just staring at his friend with a mix of fondness, amusement and confusion on his face. “But okay, the question is would you hate kissing me ?”
Charlie shrugs again. “I dunno, would you?”
That's the thing with Charlie. He's always been a little less enthusiastic about, well, anything to do with relationships, and sex, and dating, than the rest of the kids. While puberty changed Mac's mind from ‘kissing is gross’ to ‘I'm gross'—’for wanting to kiss guys’ was implied but he’d never let his consciousness finish that thought—Charlie only grew more sure of his stance on exchanging saliva. The case of having sex was a similar one, where Charlie didn't feel the same need to finally lose his V card, like everyone around him.
It's not to say Charlie doesn't enjoy sex. It can be pretty nice, when there isn't a little bitch in his ear that sounds a little too much like Jack Kelly. And girls are pretty nice, too, and guys… not as nice, but they have their perks and Charlie is not one to be picky about who he goes to bed with. He also enjoys kissing, in a weird, Charlie way. It is gross but he’s never been known for being against gross stuff. Being gross together with another person feels kinda good to him, actually.
In contrast, Mac doesn't find sex or kissing gross at all. Sure, in theory it kind of is and Charlie is right, but in practice all thoughts of it being gross evaporate from his head during the act. He guesses it's the overwhelming closeness that switches something in the brain to make it see the saliva, sweat, and other sticky substances as something attractive rather than gross.
Kissing Charlie Kelly, on the other hand, would be pretty gross.
He doubts there's a switch that could change his opinion on that matter. Mac has seen too much over the thirty-plus years they've been friends with each other to make him classify kissing Charlie as hot.
“Probably,” Mac admits, “I've seen you pull your teeth out one by one, and you eat cat food every night.”
“Not t’night,” Charlie points out.
“So what?” Mac looks at him funny, and Charlie, in return, makes a kissy face, which then promptly gets pushed away by Mac's hand. “Dude, you still have freaky loose teeth, I'm not kissing you,”
“Dee never complained,” Charlie says, tilting his head a little, as he grabs the hand covering his mouth to move it away. “Holding hands?”
“Fine by me.” Mac maneuvers his fingers so that they're now intertwined with Charlie's, as if to confirm his words. It's weird, he thinks. The amount of times he and Charlie held hands can be counted on, well, the fingers of said hands. Despite that, it's not new nor exciting, it just… is, really, and Mac finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. It's weirdly comforting to realize that, even when doing something out of the ordinary, there's a familiarity to it just because it's Charlie, his best friend, someone he's known since they were little kids, someone who's been with him through most of his best and worst moments in life. Mac knows the feeling of Charlie's callused fingers on his skin, even if they don't do this on a daily basis, because Charlie's touch isn't new, it's just the form in which it comes this time that's changed.
Charlie stares at their joint hands for a moment, before he looks back up at Mac, tightening his grip to put some weight behind his words. “Cool. Me too.”
“Cool,” Mac says in agreement, relaxing his hold on Charlie's hand to give him an out. Charlie doesn't take it, and so it's settled. “Anything more… intimate?”
Charlie squints, making the wrinkles around his eyes more prominent, before he blurts out, “Dude, I'm not banging you at your cousin's wedding.”
“Woah, okay,” Mac blinks in surprise. “First of all, not what I meant. Second of all, what makes you think you'd be the one doing the banging?”
“Uhh, ‘cause you're a bottom?” Charlie replies, though he honestly thinks it doesn't need to be said. Not after the dildo-bike, that's for sure. “Right?”
“No! I mean, sometimes?” Mac lets go of Charlie to run a hand down his face. “God, what does it matter, anyway? We're not gonna bang, dude!”
“Just curious,” Charlie smiles sheepishly and Mac rolls his eyes. “So what other intimate shit do you want?”
“Like, holding your waist or, like, I don't know, shit-” Mac curses, as talking about doing the things turns out to be more difficult then just doing them, so he resigns with a sigh, “This is so gay.”
The smile on Charlie’s face only grows wider, turning into the most shit-eating grin one could possibly imagine. “You don't say?”
“Shut the hell up, man, you're not making this easier,” Mac snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at the other man.
“Relax, ‘s fine. You can hold me or whatever, I don't really care.” Charlie puts his hands up, backing down from any further teasing.
Mac cheers up at that, smiling when he asks, “Yeah? You won't freak?”
Mac remembers how at some point Charlie grew extra wary of people touching him and that included Mac. He’d shrug Mac's arm off his shoulders, or flinch when he grabbed Charlie's wrist to drag him to his room. At first he didn't really get it but then Charlie climbed through Mac's bedroom window one night with his only explanation being that the Nightman came to him. Earlier that day Charlie complained about Uncle Jack being weird, and while Mac was never booksmart, he did know that 2+2 was 4. He never questioned Charlie's aversion to touch after that and made sure to either let Charlie initiate physical contact or to at least ask, not always verbally, but he asked. Generally he just avoided being too touchy with Charlie, initially for his friend's sake, later on because the possibility of being gay scared the living shit out of him.
To Charlie's credit, he does a lot better with unexpected physical contact now. He definitely doesn't like it, especially when it comes from strangers, but the gang has the privilege of being free to touch him. Most of the time, that is. He still sometimes rejects their attempts at putting their hands anywhere near him, telling them to get off him and respect his personal space, but it stems more from physical discomfort rather than psychological. The additional stimuli of being touched can just put his brain and body into overdrive on a worse day. On a good day, though, he really doesn't mind it.
Still, having a friendly arm put around your shoulders, or a hand patting you on the back, or being tackled in the heat of an argument, or even getting slapped across the face, is very different from tentative touches reserved exclusively for your partner, romantic or sexual. So, while Mac's question is meant to be mostly teasing, he does actually want to make sure Charlie will be fine.
Charlie shakes his head and the world spins a little too fast so he closes his eyes as he says, “Nah, I trust you.”
When he opens them back up he sees Mac looking at him with raised eyebrows, like the answer surprised him.
And well, it's only half-true. Charlie trusting him isn't something particularly shocking in and of itself, but admitting it out loud with so much honesty kind of is. For as long as Mac can remember, their mutual trust in each other has been unspoken. Always there and always silent but somehow nearly untethered. Nearly, because, of course, neither of them is the definition of a perfect friend, not even close, but they make it work and that's what really matters. It's the way they stick together through thick and thin that makes their bond practically unbreakable. They're like two pieces of the same rope, their lives intertwined together from start to finish. Mac thinks he'd be rendered useless without Charlie by his side.
“You can try it out if you don't believe me,” Charlie offers, when Mac stays silent.
A cunning smile tugs at the corners of Mac’s lips. “Are you just saying that ‘cause you want a hug?”
“No- well,” Charlie pauses to think about it. “I guess I could use a hug.”
Mac graces him with that look that always paints itself across his face when he's convinced he just won some kind of argument. When he thinks he really did something there.
Charlie's hazel eyes bore into Mac, as he tries to telepathically communicate just how stupid Mac looks right now. “Stop- just stop that, it wasn't my main reason and you know it.”
“Hey, man, no shame here! If you want to cuddle, you just gotta ask me nicely, that's all-”
Mac doesn't get to finish his sentence, because Charlie mutters ‘I'm gonna kill you’ under his breath, right before launching himself at Mac with the intention to strangle him. To his disappointment, Mac manages to catch his wrists in time, which results in Charlie pathetically face planting on top of Mac's chest, his nose digging into the muscled pec. Mac starts to say something smug, when Charlie's nose is replaced with his teeth, eliciting a surprised yelp out of Mac, as he lets go of Charlie's wrists and pushes him off the couch.
“What the fuck, man!” Mac looks down at Charlie, who's now rubbing his elbow, before he darts his eyes to the sore spot on his chest. He half-expects to find Charlie's teeth still there, having been ripped out of his gums and stuck in Mac's flesh. Miraculously Charlie seems to have kept all of his remaining teeth inside his mouth, only leaving a small damp spot on Mac's shirt, which he assumes to be drool. Infinitely better than Charlie's surprisingly sharp teeth.
“That's what you get for bein’ an asshole,'' Charlie scoffs, climbing back on the couch. “Now, I want my hug and if you start being a dick about it again I will bite off every single one of your fingers, got it?”
Mac rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest with the intention to ignore Charlie all together, as a form of revenge. And then Charlie crawls into his lap and Mac's body moves quicker than he can think about it, arms automatically sneaking around Charlie's back, one hand staying there and the other making its way up to tangle in the hair on the back of Charlie's head. It's nice. Reminds him of the sleepovers they'd had when they were younger. When Charlie would crawl into Mac's twin bed, or vice versa, and shift to put his head on Mac's chest, just before they fell asleep. It also reminds him of highschool and passing out on the couch in Mac's basement, high out of their minds on his leftover weed. Regardless of their age, those moments always stayed somewhat the same. Their proximity was always Charlie's initiative, his head usually lay either on Mac's chest or his lap, and sometimes Mac's hand would find itself in Charlie's hair. Hair that was almost never clean. It was greasy and full of dandruff, especially in highschool, and weirdly enough Mac considered it to be comforting. It was just so… Charlie .
Predictably, it's not much different now. The greasiness is just about what he'd expect from Charlie's hair, there's less, but definitely not zero, dandruff in it and it smells of sebum, sweat, smoke and something else that Mac has never managed to pinpoint but finds to be a crucial component of the Charlie Kelly musk.
Mac smiles to himself. Charlie might have started out genuinely wanting to prove he would be fine with their closeness at the wedding but now Mac is entirely sure that's not the case anymore. This isn't even anything new for Charlie. He's been in this exact position with Mac a bunch of times before, so all that's being proven here is Mac. And he's being proven right. He's one step from pointing it out, when the front door swings open, making both Mac and Charlie turn their heads towards it to see Dennis striding inside the apartment.
“Alright, Mac, I've analyzed your stupid idea with my brilliant brain and came to the-” he cuts himself off, eyes falling upon the two men on the couch. “Oh. Hi, Charlie.”
“Hey,” Charlie mumbles, cheek pressed to Mac's chest.
Dennis turns his focus to Mac. “What's he doing here?”
Charlie is the one to reply, even if the question wasn't for him. It was about him, however, so he feels like he's entitled to provide the answer, anyway, and he lifts his head up to say, “Fake-dating Mac.”
“Uh-huh,” Dennis says slowly, seemingly not convinced. “And who, may I ask, are you faking it for? As there was nobody besides you two in this apartment, up until approximately two minutes ago.”
“This—” Mac gestures at the both of them with his hand, “—isn’t even fake-dating-related. Charlie just doesn't wanna admit he's a clingy bitch. He is, though.”
“Mac, you piece of shit, I told you not to be a dick about it!” Charlie's voice jumps up an octave, the way it always does when he's frustrated. “I'm biting your fingers off! Give me your hand.”
“As if,” Mac argues back and he knows he's going to regret it, even before he says, “we both know you just wanna hold it.”
Charlie bites his exposed bicep, hard , showing him no mercy whatsoever, and the scream that rips itself from Mac's throat can probably be heard two stories up. It's even loud enough to startle Charlie into loosening his jaw and letting go of Mac's skin, as he straightens up to cover his ears.
“Charlie, you bitch!” Mac is looking at him in pure disbelief. “Dude, I'm gonna have to get a rabies shot, or- or- I don't know, something!”
“Tetanus, probably,” Dennis supplies, reminding Charlie and Mac that he's still in the room with them. “Anyway, I was gonna agree to your ridiculous plan, Mac, but I’ve changed my mind, seeing how you found a solution already. Have fun with your rabid fake boyfriend.”
With that, Dennis goes back to his bedroom, leaving Mac and Charlie to their own devices once again. It's not like Mac is paying attention to anything other than the quickly blossoming bruise in the shape of Charlie's teeth on his arm, anyway. He's about ninety percent sure he could get Charlie a dental exam based on nothing but the indentations on his skin.
“Are you, like, bleeding?” Charlie asks after a short while. “I didn't taste any blood.”
“No,” Mac replies, gaze still focused on his injury. “It hurts like a bitch, though. How are your teeth even strong enough to do that?”
Charlie shrugs. He’s not really sure either, because he could definitely pull most of them out without too much of a struggle if he tried.
Mac sighs, gently wiping the remains of Charlie's spit off his arm. “If you bite me at the wedding I'm gonna kick the shit out of you.”
“Dude, I don't bite people for no reason,” Charlie retorts, slumping down on the couch once again. “So, don't go giving me reasons and you'll be fine.”
“Oh my god,” Mac mutters, exasperated with Charlie's antics. “I'm gonna regret this so bad.”
“Well, no take-backs now,” Charlie decides. “You promised me free food. Plus I look totally awesome in a suit. I'll make a sweet fake gay boyfriend.”
Mac recalls all the times he's seen Charlie wear a suit. There's more than what one would expect of someone like Charlie, actually. The guy has a weird fascination with costumes and dressing up, whether it be as Greenman, Frank Serpico or a man in a fancy suit, as Charlie likes to pretend he's not an illiterate janitor, and he'll take any opportunity he gets to do so. Wearing a nice suit is as good of a chance as any.
“Whatever, just don't wear the white one,” Mac replies, remembering Charlie's frankly disgusting attempts at becoming a preacher. “It already makes you look like an asshole, so you'd be a double asshole, wearing it to a wedding of all things.”
“What? Why?” Charlie frowns.
“What do you mean ‘why'?” Mac scrunches his face in confusion. “Why does it make you look like a dick? Or why can't you wear it to a wedding?”
“The dick thing,” Charlie answers. “I know you can't wear all white to a wedding. Though I don't see how anyone would confuse me for the bride.”
Mac opens his mouth, less than a second away from blurting out a reply and getting into another pointless discussion, but then he decides not to correct Charlie. As long as he doesn't wear the suit, Mac doesn't care about what this idiot thinks is the reason for not wearing white. Instead, Mac shrugs. “I don't know, man. It makes me think of your stupid ‘Lord is going down on me’ song.”
“It was pretty catchy,” Charlie argues.
“No, it wasn't! It was incredibly disrespectful, Charlie,” Mac scolds him, failing his attempt at not caring. He can't just sit there and take Charlie's ignorance.
“Fine, fine!” Charlie puts his hands up in defeat. “I'll wear the black one.”
“Yeah, good.” Mac folds his arms over his chest. “Good.”
“Good,” Charlie agrees. He looks at Mac for a bit, like he's doing an analysis of sorts. Maybe he is. Charlie, as illiterate as he is, could always read Mac like an open book. Or, quite frankly better than any book, open or closed. And read he does, because he grabs Mac's wrists to uncross his arms and once again curl up against his torso, likely having seen through the facade of annoyance that Mac had put up. Sure, he doesn't like Charlie and the rest of the gang making fun of his beliefs, but at the same time, Charlie never got religion, not even when they were both at their Catholic school. Actually, Mac thinks that's when Charlie got religion the least. He seemed to understand it a little better when they were getting high off their asses in Mac's basement, or under the school bleachers, when Mac would ramble about God and Heaven and sin, and Charlie would listen with his eyebrows drawn together in what Mac had hoped was trying to process the words, but knew was mostly concern.
Either way, Charlie has always been a bit of a dick about a lot of things and Mac had no choice but to get used to it. Not like Mac’s a saint himself, no matter how hard he tries to tell everyone otherwise.
Unsurprisingly, Mac's hand lands on the back of Charlie's head, absentmindedly scratching his scalp with the tiniest amount of pressure possible to avoid getting any of the grime under his fingernails. He takes a deep breath and lets it all sink in, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. It's not very often that he gets to cuddle with someone in a way that's not related to sex. Getting laid is pretty sweet, has been ever since he started to sleep with people he's actually attracted to, namely men, but this is somehow sweeter. For a second Mac considers taking another shot at finding a boyfriend, but then the memories of Dennis's cruel joke breaking his heart flood his mind and Mac pushes the thought away.
For now he'll take the warmth that Charlie happily offers to him, and when that's done he definitely won't hope for it to happen again. Because, unlike Charlie, he's not clingy. Not at all, no, Mac is a badass, if anything.
He's also in his forties, his body nowhere near as durable as it was in highschool, and Charlie's eyes are closed, his eyelashes brushing against the cotton fabric of Mac's old tank top. He jabs a finger in between his ribs, as he mutters, “Charlie.”
Charlie's reply consists of a hum and then a mumble that Mac can't decipher.
“Dude, come on,” he says louder this time, nudging Charlie's shoulder. “We can't sleep like that, it'll kill our necks.”
Charlie grumbles some more before he wriggles around a little, so he can look directly at Mac. “Your neck, maybe. I'm comfy, though.”
Mac’s lips form a straight line, as he gives Charlie a look full of disapproval before unceremoniously shoving him off to the other side of the couch, much to Charlie's dismay that he shows by yelling an upset ‘hey’ at Mac. All he gets in reply is a shrug, as Mac gets up and stands in front of Charlie, offering him a hand, which Charlie begrudgingly takes and lets Mac pull him to his feet.
And if their hands stay intertwined on their way to Mac's bedroom, and later find themselves when Mac and Charlie get under the covers, well, it's nobody's business. Because no one, not Dennis, not Dee, and certainly not Frank, would get Mac and Charlie the way they get each other.
In the words of a not-so-wise man, CAT <3 MAC 4EVR.