Work Text:
Mac groaned in frustration, glancing at the clock again. They were already running late, and Dennis was still nowhere near ready. “Dennis, come on, let’s go!” he called out, tapping his foot impatiently.
Dennis didn’t budge. His attention remained fixed on his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the soft glow of the light highlighting the deep shadows under his eyes. He was trying—unsuccessfully—to cover them up with layers of makeup, but it wasn’t working.
“Dennis, if you don’t say something right now, I’m gonna assume you’ve died in there and break down this door!” Mac shouted, his voice rising with frustration.
From the other side, Dennis let out a loud sigh, clearly exasperated, but still, he didn’t unlock the door. He wasn’t leaving until he was completely satisfied with how he looked.
“Dennis, come on, just open the door,” Mac pleaded, his tone softening as he tried to reason with him. “We’re gonna miss the reservation.”
They had dinner reservations at that place they’d been talking about for months now, and if Dennis didn’t hurry up, they were going to miss it for sure.
“Just go without me so we don’t lose the reservation, okay?” Dennis finally called back, his voice muffled through the door. “I’ll be there in like 40 minutes. I’ll Uber.”
Mac groaned again, frustration bubbling up, but he couldn’t deny it—he’d been looking forward to this for months too. Still, with a reluctant sigh, he agreed. "Fine. But you better make it."
They’d been planning this date for so long. That restaurant was always packed, and securing a reservation felt like a rare victory—something that didn’t come easily for people like them.
An hour had passed, and Mac was still sitting alone at the table. He’d gone ahead and ordered a Caesar salad for Dennis, and a steak for himself, trying to make the best of a bad situation. But it wasn’t the same.
“Do you want me to bring you a box for this?” the waiter asked, feigning concern as he glanced at the untouched salad, his look dripping with unspoken judgment.
“You know what, sure,” Mac muttered, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything he’d regret.
Dennis had actually stood him up. Mac stared at his phone again, his stomach twisting as he saw that Dennis hadn’t even bothered to read any of the countless texts he’d sent.
*6:30 P.M*
Dennis, are u coming soon? I ordered u a salad. I know u wouldn't want to order anything else.
*6:50 P.M*
Dennis, it’s been 20 minutes now. I know u said 40 but the waiter keeps coming over and looking at me like I’ve been stood up.
*7:00 P.M*
R u coming yet? 30 minutes now. I ate half of my food already. I got a steak. It’s really good, u would like it. I’ll let u have a bite like u always do. Hurry up buddy. I bet u look great. Stop worrying.
*7:10 P.M*
Hey, me again. R u coming now? Been 40 minutes. Waiter definitely thinks I’m a loser who’s been stood up. I keep telling him you’ll be here soon. U gotta come, man, so I don’t look stupid.
His heart sank further as he scrolled through the messages. Nothing. No replies. No sign of Dennis.
“Do you want the bill?” the waiter asked, and Mac, staring at his now-empty plate, let out a long sigh.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice flat, the weight of his disappointment sinking in deeper than it already had.
He packed the salad into the box the waiter handed him and paid the bill. It was more expensive than he’d expected, but he figured it was probably due to the drinks he’d ordered.
Normally, he’d drive home, toss the salad in the fridge, and try to shake it off. But the fact that Dennis hadn’t even bothered to glance at his texts—especially after knowing how much Mac had been looking forward to this—really, really pissed him off. The waiter’s judgmental stares hadn’t helped either.
So, instead of being responsible, he decided to head to the bar and drink his sorrows away. He’d deal with the consequences later.
It had been five hours before Mac finally decided to drive home. And sure, you’re not supposed to drive when you’ve been drinking—but what was he, a pussy?
Dennis never bothered to respond to any of his texts. Fuck him. In some pathetic way, Mac figured the best way to get back at him was to eat the salad he’d ordered for him. It didn’t taste great after sitting in the car for hours—wilted lettuce and soggy dressing—but at that point, he didn’t care. Anything to piss off Dennis.
He tossed the Styrofoam box out the window as soon as he pulled into the apartment parking lot, watching it tumble across the pavement. He parked the car—or, more accurately, shoved it into park—and stumbled his way into the building, feeling off-balance but determined to make it inside.
“Dennis, I’m home!” Mac yelled loudly, hoping the sound of his voice would drag Dennis out of whatever sleep-induced fog he was in. It was already midnight, and Mac was sure he had probably woken up half of the building’s tenants, but at that point, he didn’t care.
He threw the keys on the counter, grumbling to himself at the lack of response from Dennis, and made his way to the fridge. The salad and steak should have been enough food, but he was still starving, so he grabbed whatever leftovers were in there, not really caring what it was. He just needed something to fill the empty space—physically and emotionally.
“By the way, I ate your salad! It was delicious! (lie) You snooze, you lose!” Mac called out, his voice dripping with mock cheerfulness as he shoveled whatever leftover mystery food he could find in the fridge into his mouth.
When his attempt to upset Dennis yielded no response, Mac put the food down with a frustrated sigh. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get any satisfaction from petty remarks. He shoved the leftovers aside and decided it was time to confront Dennis face to face. Enough was enough.
He made his way to their bedroom, expecting to find Dennis asleep, but was surprised to find the bed empty. There were no signs that anyone had been in the room since he’d left. The bed was still made, exactly how Dennis had done it that morning, as if nothing had changed. The stillness in the room sent a strange chill down his spine.
“Dennis?” he called out, confusion lacing his voice. For a half-second, the thought of calling the police to file a missing person’s report crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Dennis would make fun of him again. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he was more worried or just pissed off. Either way, something didn’t feel right.
Maybe Dennis was just using the bathroom? The thought settled in Mac's mind for a moment, and he puffed up his chest, readying himself for the argument that was bound to happen. He could already feel the frustration building again—this time, face-to-face. He wasn't going to sleep until they had it out.
He made his way to the bathroom, noticing the door was cracked open just a sliver, the light on inside. Aha. Got you. He smirked to himself, ready to catch Dennis in whatever half-hearted excuse he had this time.
Slamming the door open, Mac stopped dead in his tracks, his stomach dropping.
“Dennis?” he cried out, his voice suddenly sharp, sobering up in an instant.
Dennis was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall. His head hung forward, his chin resting on his chest, and his eyes were glazed, unfocused—like gravity itself was too heavy for him to fight. Sweat soaked through his shirt, and his makeup, what little was left, had long since melted away, leaving streaks on his skin.
Mac kneeled down next to him, his heart racing as panic crept into his voice. “Dennis?” he called again, shaking his shoulder gently. There was no response.
Had Dennis not left the bathroom since he left for the restaurant? A wave of guilt hit him as the reality of the situation sank in. His frustration with Dennis seemed so small now, so insignificant. "What the hell happened?"
Dennis finally snapped out of it, his head jerking up as his eyes widened, locking onto Mac’s worried face.
"Mac, what are you doing here? What about our reservation?" His voice was thick, like he was trying to force himself to focus, but the words only made Mac’s anxiety spike.
It was clear now that Dennis hadn’t meant to stand Mac up. He was so out of it, his mind somewhere else entirely. Mac's stomach twisted with guilt, but there was no time for that now.
“Christ, Dennis. Do you know what time it is?” Mac asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Huh?” Dennis furrowed his brow, his gaze back to being unfocused. “Isn’t it six?”
Mac blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. Six? It was well past midnight. He stared at Dennis, the confusion, the worry, and the frustration all twisting together in a knot in his chest. “No, Dennis. It’s—it's midnight . You’ve been in here for hours.”
Dennis’s eyes widened again, and he tried to push himself to his feet, but his knees were too weak, buckling beneath him.
“Midnight? No, no, that can’t be right. We have the reservation. I was going to…” He trailed off, his words fading as his mind scrambled to catch up. His eyes darted around the bathroom, looking for his phone like it could somehow fix everything.
Mac’s heart tightened as he watched Dennis struggle to make sense of what was happening. “Dennis, you’ve been in here for hours. What the hell happened?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.
Once Dennis checked his phone and saw that it was indeed midnight, his face went pale, and he slumped back against the wall, as if the weight of the truth had finally hit him. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice hollow and distant, as though he couldn’t quite grasp how the hours had slipped away.
“Here, man, let’s stand you up,” Mac whispered, his hands finding a firm grip behind Dennis’s back, gently lifting him to his feet.
Dennis let him help, his body unsteady, his mind clearly elsewhere as he tried to piece together what had happened. His eyes were distant, searching for something in the air, but it seemed like his thoughts were still a few steps behind.
"I… I don't remember," he murmured, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear the fog in his mind.
Mac nodded, deciding to push the panic aside for now. There’d be time to worry later. "It’s okay, don’t fret it," he said softly, giving Dennis a reassuring smile. "Let’s get you to bed, yeah? I’ll get you some water."
He gently guided Dennis toward the bedroom, doing his best to steady him as they moved. The last thing he needed was for Dennis to collapse again. He'd deal with the confusion later. Right now, all that mattered was getting him settled. Laying Dennis down on the bed, Mac finally thought to check his forehead, pressing the back of his hand against his skin.
"Jesus, you’re burning up," he muttered, his voice tight with concern again as he felt the heat radiating off of him. “You should have told me if you were feeling sick earlier.”
Dennis fought weakly to get under the covers, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. But Mac stopped him, gently holding him back. “I don’t think you should do that, Den. Let me turn the fan on. We gotta get you cooling off.”
Dennis’s eyes fluttered, a faint nod of acknowledgment, but his body seemed too heavy to respond fully. Mac moved quickly, flipping the fan on high, aiming it towards the bed. He kept his voice calm, even though his insides were twisting.
"Just hang in there, alright? I’m gonna take care of you."
Mac left the room in a rush, his heart pounding as he scrambled to find something that might help. He returned moments later, frantically carrying a glass of ice water, and set it down on the bedside table. “Drink this, Den,” he urged gently, his voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling underneath.
Dennis’s eyes fluttered again, but his hands were slow to move. Mac lifted the glass to his lips, encouraging him with a soft, "Come on, just a little. You need to stay hydrated."
Once Dennis started to feel the cool air from the fan, his thoughts began to return, slowly at first, like fog lifting. And then it hit him.
Fuck . He’d been planning on asking Mac to be his boyfriend at the restaurant. It was supposed to be this big, special moment, something they'd remember forever. Dennis had even gone so far as to buy promise rings for them—something cheesy, but something he knew Mac would love.
He winced, guilt mixing with his lingering confusion. His entire plan had fallen apart, and Mac was here, taking care of him like he always did. The irony was suffocating.
"Can you... stay here?" Dennis asked quietly, his hand gently pulling at the sleeve of Mac's shirt.
Mac raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, yeah, man. This is kind of my bed, too—"
Dennis let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in frustration. Of course, Mac would do this. Just when he was trying to make a real connection, Mac always had a way of ruining the moment with his usual sarcasm.
"Okay, okay, I was just joking," Mac said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Of course, I’ll stay, Den." He climbed into bed beside Dennis, his tone softening. "But, man, this fan is freezing, so... looks like I'm gonna have to cuddle with you."
Dennis shot him a half-hearted glare, trying to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t mind the closeness, but Mac always had a way of making everything feel like a joke—even when it wasn’t.
Mac grinned mischievously, glancing over at Dennis. "Here, actually," he said with a playful glint in his eye, "let’s take off your shirt. You’ve sweated the hell out of this one."
Dennis blinked, caught off guard. "What?!" he stammered, his face flushing slightly. "Do I smell bad? Damn it, Mac, I should take a shower—"
Mac cut him off with a soft chuckle, the teasing tone in his voice blending with something almost comforting. "No, dude. It’s fine. You always cuddle up next to me after a workout, anyway."
Dennis pouted, his bottom lip jutting out as he crossed his arms. "But I don’t want you to find me gross..." He glanced at Mac, his voice a little quieter now, like he was worried that it might actually be true.
Mac shook his head, a soft smile on his lips as he gently pulled Dennis’s shirt over his head. Dennis shivered as the cold air from the fan hit his exposed skin, a small gasp escaping him.
"I know it’s cold," Mac said, his voice a little softer now, "but you’re burning up." He paused, giving Dennis a reassuring look. "Don’t worry, I’ll hold you to help keep you warm all the same."
Dennis hesitated for a moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting as he let himself relax into Mac’s embrace. They held each other in the bed, and Mac kissed Dennis’s forehead.
“You should’ve told me you were sick,” Mac muttered, his voice tight with frustration, not at Dennis but at himself. "I wouldn’t have gone to the restaurant, and I definitely wouldn’t have gone to the bar afterwards." He scoffed, running a hand through his hair as guilt slowly crept back in, twisting in his stomach.
The frustration he’d felt earlier seemed so distant now, replaced by a gnawing regret as he thought about how angry he was at Dennis.
"I was wondering why you smelled like alcohol," Dennis murmured, his voice low, almost embarrassed. He tightened his hold on Mac, as if trying to make up for all the tension between them. "I’m sorry I ruined the night. I had this big thing planned—"
Mac felt the weight of Dennis's apology, the words heavier than usual. His heart softened, and he could hear the regret in Dennis’s voice.
“Hey,” Mac interrupted gently, brushing his thumb over Dennis’s arm, “you didn’t ruin anything. We’re here now, right? That’s what matters.” He gave Dennis a small, reassuring smile. “And next time, just… tell me when you're not feeling good, yeah?”
Dennis hummed in response, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Mac’s warmth.
Then Mac’s voice broke the moment, teasing with a hint of amusement. “Dude, I know I’m hot and all, but seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He raised an eyebrow, feeling something pressing against him as Dennis shifted.
Dennis’s eyes shot open in sudden panic. He had completely forgotten about the ring in his pocket, and his heart skipped a beat as he remembered what he had planned.
“Okay, okay,” Mac smirked, his hand inching down towards Dennis’s pants, clearly teasing him. But Dennis quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him with a look of panic.
“Dude, no—wait!” Dennis said, his voice a little more frantic than he intended. But it was too late. Mac’s hand brushed against something in Dennis’s pocket, and he pulled it out, his fingers brushing against the small, hard object inside.
“Huh? What’s this?” Mac asked, raising an eyebrow as he held up the small box, his confusion growing. It was definitely not what he had expected.
Dennis groaned, his face turning bright red as Mac opened the box, revealing the ring inside. His stomach churned with embarrassment.
“Uhhh…” Mac blinked, glancing from the ring to Dennis and back again, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “Dude, I love you and all, but we aren’t even dating yet. Marriage?”
Dennis let out a long, drawn-out sigh, feeling like he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.
"It’s not what you think," Dennis muttered, his face burning with embarrassment, wishing he could just melt into the bed. "It’s... a promise ring. I was planning on asking you to be my..." He trailed off, the words sticking in his throat.
He stared at the ceiling, feeling like he'd just stepped into some awkward, uncharted territory. How had he ended up here?
Mac, still holding the ring, blinked, clearly processing Dennis’s words. “A promise ring?” he repeated slowly, his voice a little softer now, but still tinged with confusion. “Wait, like… promise to what?”
God, Mac was such an idiot. If Dennis wasn’t so in love with him, he’d make fun of him.
“It's a ring meant for couples," Dennis explained, the words coming out in a rush. "It means you won’t be unfaithful, and that eventually you’ll marry them."
He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, half-waiting for Mac to laugh or run for the door.
A smile slowly crept onto Mac’s face as the realization hit him, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place. He looked down at the ring, then back at Dennis, his expression softening.
"You were going to give this to me tonight?" he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and something else—maybe affection, maybe amusement. The tension in the air shifted, and for the first time, Dennis felt a little less like he was about to implode.
Dennis, still flushed, nodded. "Yeah, I—I didn’t exactly plan on you finding it like this , though." He managed a half-laugh, feeling more vulnerable than he'd ever been. “I have a ring myself, I kept it in the drawer.”
“So you want to be my boyfriend?” Mac asked, his smirk still there, though his tone was lighter, more teasing than anything else.
Dennis’s face turned even redder, his nerves flaring up again. “I mean, yeah... that’s the plan,” he mumbled, shifting awkwardly as he tried to gauge Mac’s reaction. "I, uh, thought it might be nice... if you wanted it, too."
Mac raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes, but there was something softer behind it now, a hint of sincerity. “Well, I guess I’ll have to think about it," he said, leaning in just slightly. "You did get me a ring, after all."
Mac noticed the way Dennis’s face fell, the instant shift from hope to uncertainty, and a wave of guilt washed over him.
“No, no, I was joking, Den,” he quickly said, his tone softening. He reached out, placing a hand on Dennis’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “Of course I’ll be your boyfriend."
Dennis looked up at him, the worry in his eyes slowly fading, though there was still a trace of disbelief. “You’re not messing with me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.
Mac’s smile turned sincere, the teasing fading away. “Not messing with you at all, man.” He paused, then added, “I’m in. For real.”
A small, almost shy smile crept onto Dennis’s face as Mac carefully slid the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. His heart beat a little faster, the tension between them easing now that everything had finally been said.
“Well, I guess I’m officially your boyfriend now, huh?” Dennis had said, his voice a little steadier now, the weight of the moment finally sinking in.
Mac had grinned, still holding Dennis’s hand, "Yeah," he’d replied, his smile softening. "I guess you are."
“Don’t kiss me though, I’m sick,” Dennis had warned, his voice slightly panicked as he noticed the way Mac’s eyes lingered on his lips.
Mac had paused, a playful grin tugging at his mouth, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, right. Can’t have that." He’d leaned back, but not without a teasing glance. "Wouldn’t want to catch whatever you’ve got."
Dennis rolled his eyes, but there was a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, seriously. I’m contagious," he said, though part of him almost didn’t mind the playful tension in the air.
Suddenly, without warning, Mac leaned in and placed a soft, unexpected kiss on Dennis’s lips. His hand reached behind Dennis’s head, holding him steady as their lips met.
Dennis froze for a split second, stunned by the boldness of it. He barely had time to register what was happening before he felt Mac pull back just slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Guess I’m willing to take my chances,” Mac had said, smirking. “Besides, being sick with my boyfriend doesn’t sound too bad,” Mac continued, a grin tugging at his lips. “Means we get to stay in bed all day.”
Dennis blushed at the word boyfriend, the warmth spreading across his cheeks. The word coming from Mac’s mouth was like music to his ears. "Yeah. I guess so," he’d agreed, leaning in to place another quick kiss on Mac’s lips.
As he pulled back, he hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “I still should shower though,” he added, glancing at Mac with a sheepish expression. “I probably smell like... death.”
Mac just laughed, his hand finding its way back to Dennis’s, squeezing it gently. “Okay, fine. Let me help you shower, then. I could use it too.”
As Mac carefully helped Dennis out of bed, his movements slow and steady, they shared a quiet moment of understanding. Dennis leaned into him slightly, grateful for the support, and Mac’s hand gently gripped his as they made their way toward the bathroom. Their steps were slow, comfortable, the kind of rhythm that only comes when two people are at ease with each other.
A soft smile tugged at both their lips, lingering as the word boyfriend danced in their minds, still foreign but undeniably real. It was a word that had been there all along, hiding in the spaces between teasing remarks and long glances. But now, it felt natural, almost inevitable, like the next step in something that had been quietly growing all along.
As they reached the bathroom door, Dennis paused, looking up at Mac. “You’re sure you want to be stuck with me?”
Mac grinned, squeezing his hand. “Definitely. Besides, someone’s got to make sure you don’t fall asleep in the shower.”
Dennis rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. With a soft chuckle, he stepped into the bathroom, knowing that whatever happened next, they were no longer just two friends caught in a complicated situation. They were something more. And that felt like a promise they were both ready to keep.