Chapter Text
6:47 pm
On a Bus
Somewhere in Virginia?
The ride home has been quiet. Almost unbearably so. Except for Frank trying to get a rise… a reaction out of any of the gang members. He quickly gave up though and fell asleep. For once, Dennis and Dee are more dirty and disheveled than Charlie. Who only has a few tiny holes in his beloved gray hoodie, and palms that still smell of raw hotdog meat if you put them up to your face; meanwhile his face is almost gaunt like, completely dissociating. Mac is also quiet, but rather than thinking about the events that just occurred, he's in his head about what he really wants from life, and himself.
Eventually in the middle of the night, the bus stops in Philadelphia. It's a quiet subway ride and walk back to the pub. Charlie tries to cling onto Mac. A hand, an arm, anything. He practically shoves Charlie away, coldly rejecting him. Charlie clings onto Dennis’ arm, tugging the end of his shirt sleeve. Dennis doesn't react, this is a sign of approval. Charlie closes in on the contact and leans his head against Dennis’ shoulder. Surprisingly, Dennis takes Charlie's hand as they continued to walk along the dimly lit streets. Nobody noticed… or didn't say anything… probably the latter.
At the bar they all wordlessly head their separate ways. Only a brief look of disinterest from Frank was given when Charlie followed Mac and Dennis back to the Range Rover. Charlie climbs into the back of the car and doesn't bother to strap in, he lies down in the car in a pseudo fetal position. For once, Dennis obeys the speed and traffic laws of the street, like he's on autopilot. Once they got back, Charlie is floating near Dennis’ personal space, following him closely behind the stairs as the three head up to the apartment. He follows Dennis into his bedroom, which should be mildly surprising to everybody but Mac doesn't even care as he loudly shuts and locks the door to his room from the inside. Charlie shuffles behind Dennis, going into his room. Thankfully, there is a bed again after the whole predatory inflatable furniture fiasco. A relatively new, big, and comfortable bed all covered for by Frank.
Charlie sits on the edge of the bed, and Dennis sits next to him. Dennis slowly puts his hand near Charlie’s hand, but the short man pulls his hand back.
“Wash your hands…” he says in hoarse and meek voice
“Wha?” Dennis responds, uttering a stupid sound instead of a real word. As usually Dennis is always begging Charlie to wash his hands, or shower, or not get more dirty.
“You like… jerked off that dog, man.” he said before he violently recounted the events of the day.
“Uh yeah I’ll take a shower.” Dennis says about to leave.
Charlie practically lunges off the bed and stands up. He starts itching everywhere, pulling his hoodie off with such strong force it almost takes his shirt off too. He starts itching and itching, recounting how close he was when that guy… he…
“Are… are you okay?” Dennis asks, out of genuine concern. “You didn't get like fleas or something… did you?”
“Shower.” Charlie says sternly. Shower. Shower. Shower. He needs to get this day off his body. Evidence he was even in that room. Scrub it clean. To forget what he saw. If he just kept his stupid fucking mouth shut. He starts to grab at his hair violently.
“Woah! Woah, woah.” Dennis says, putting his hands on top of Charlie's. I’ll wash you man, c'mon. Stop… please.” Charlie does stop but his hands are still clamping his hair and scalp like it's an anchor keeping him afloat. Dennis slowly detached Charlie's fingers from his head and took off his shirt with the utmost care.
“I'm going to take off your pants… don't kick me.” Dennis says. He slowly undoes Charlie's belt and with the least applied pressure possible shimmies the jeans off of each leg until the pants are down to the bottom. Charlie steps out of them and then proceeds to almost rip off his underwear. Something he normally wouldn't do but for once in his life he needs to be so clean that sparkles and bubbles come off of him.
Dennis quickly takes off his ruined outfit, but he was so disheveled the clothes were practically half off him anyways. He takes off the jacket and shirt without even unbuttoning them. He is about to grab Charlie by the hand before he remembers the atrocities of the day and goes for his wrist instead. He silently leads Charlie into the bathroom and grabs two towels for them and a pair of pajamas that will be too long for Charlie to leave on the bed. If only that bastard didn't lock his door, he probably has Charlie sized clothes in that room, he thinks to himself.
He lets Charlie go in the small shower and turns it on to a comfortable, lukewarm temperature; as normally it's a miracle that not only he is in a shower but that he's also fully undressed in one. Like trying to not scare away a feral animal.
“Hotter.” he croaks. Dennis hesitantly turns the water hotter for him, although not by much.
“Hotter.” he says again, this time with some sense of urgency. Dennis turns it a little warmer for him.
“Hotter, hotter, it's still not hot enough!” Charlie says, almost screaming now. He turns the knob himself and his body quickly turns red due to the heat, and he makes a grimaced expression. He starts itching himself hard trying to get rid of the skin on his body.
Fuckkk why can't anybody else be awake, Dennis thinks. He's so bad at trying to calm people down. But then he thinks about it again for another moment and realizes the other members of the gang would be way worse at this than him. And these are just big feelings. Dennis can do that… can't he? Maybe for Charlie, at least.
Dennis quickly puts the shower back to warm and steps into the shower too.
“What happened, buddy. What's wrong? Did you actually get fleas?” Charlie profusely shakes his head as he continues to scratch now. He's bleeding on his arms a little bit now.
“Raw dog...” That's all Charlie can manage to get out before he starts shaking. Dennis firmly grasps Charlie's arms to try and hold him into place. “Clean. Clean me. I need to be cleaned. Clean me. Take my skin off. Just clean me,” he fires off rapidly.
“Okay, okay. I can clean you,” Dennis says in a calming tone that he somehow can only reserve for the smaller man. If anybody ever saw what was happening he would profusely deny the interaction between them, and the fondness he holds for Charlie. Dennis put his own feelings of degradation and lost dignity aside for now. He gets a bar of soap ready for the man instead.
Knowing how Charlie will probably like it in the current moment, he puts a lot of pressure into each stroke the soap bar leaves— hard unadulterated pressure. He pulls Charlie’s back into himself and gets his chest and lathers his chest that way. Then he squats down and gets Charlie's legs on both sides. He even does the courtesy of going back to each spot he did to do it again, so that he can feel he's clean. He puts deep pressure into Charlie's shoulder to try and calm him down a bit, and massages the soap into his skin. He hears some kind of sigh so he can only assume it's working. He turns the water ever so slightly hotter and uses the removable showerhead to put it inches away from all the suds on Charlie's body.
Then he reaches for his luxury shampoo, one he would normally never let other people use. He lathers it roughly in Charlie’s hair. He makes sure to get his whole scalp covered in the shampoo and even wipes some of the extra onto his facial hair. Not wanting to risk any fuss after the shower, he uses a bar of soap reserved for his face on Charlie's face, that way he is truly clean with no argument. He cools down the water a bit and lets the gentle stream of the water wash away the excess shampoo and soap. The foam and bubbles swirl around their semi clogged drain. Charlie steps out of the shower and reaches for a towel and Dennis is left to clean up himself and his own regrets of the day. He doubles up on the face soap around his mouth, he doesn't want to think about the shameful way he let himself get treated. He always gets carried away when there are real things at stake. After all, he is his father's son.
Charlie is wearing the towel like a blanket around his back and shoulders, leaving a huge puddle on the tile floor underneath him. Dennis smiles, not at the sight of him but at his naivety. He fluffs up the towel behind Charlie and uses it to gently dry him. He then puts it on top of his head and gently rubs his ears dry and puts deep pressure into getting his hair dry in the towel. Dennis grabs a head wrap and puts himself into a towel after using it to dry off his legs. They both trot back to Dennis’ room, Charlie leaving the slightest trace of water with each step from the bathroom to their destination.
“Do you need help changing,” Dennis asks, as he hands Charlie the pajamas. Charlie shakes his head as he goes commando into the pajamas. Dennis grabs a pair of silk pajamas he usually saves for special occasions, but tonight he just wants to be comfortable. The polyethylene and collar is leaving his body itchy even after it’s been off for hours. The body of a Golden god such as himself cannot stand for such cheap and low quality materials to be put on it. Dennis gets up and closes the door, but doesn't lock it, before climbing into bed. Charlie climbs into bed too, having no qualm about immediately clinging onto Dennis and leaving no space between them. A cuddling position only lovers take. He puts his head on Dennis’ shoulder and uses the taller man’s head as a pillow for his own. He clings onto the material of Dennis’ pajamas like a lifeline. Dennis awkwardly returns the embrace, but deepens his pressure after Charlie tugged on his arm with force.
“So… what happened with that raw dog thing?” Dennis dares to ask, because it's the only way he will know how to proceed with the situation.
“This guy… this dog janitor guy…” Charlie says, he clears his throat out of nervousness, and Dennis can feel him tremble a bit. “Mac and I… he let us come to his place. In the parking lot. And…” Charlie starts to sob a bit now, “and he… I’m so stupid. I'm such a retard. I… I told him the place was closing down!” Charlie says in a panic between the sobs. He loosens himself off of Dennis and looks him in the eyes. “He… he didn't know, Den. He didn't know. He didn't know the place was closing down and he… he went to the back and…” the sobs are unbearable at this point he starts sobbing really hard and is unable to continue talking. Despite the premium material of his pajamas, Dennis uses the ends of his sleeves to wipe away some of Charlie’s tears. His hands are on his face and now he's starting to get snot all over his face and now his sleeve. He slowly recoils his arm and wipes it off on his pants.
“What… What did he do, Char?” Dennis asks, as calmly as possible.
“He killed himself.” Charlie mumbles.
For the second time that night, Dennis makes a stupid noise again, “Wha?”
“He killed himself!” Charlie says practically shouting before violently flinging himself onto Dennis, where now he is on top of the bigger man like a starfish. Dennis’ first thought isn't even empathy or sympathy, but the fact he's really glad his room is still basically soundproofed. And then his second thought was sympathy. This whole night just keeps getting filled with surprises and once in a blue moon occurrences.
“Oh god…” Dennis says. That's all he can say. He cups Charlie’s head as his shirt is getting soiled with tears and snot.
“It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault. I'm so stupid I'm so stupid. I can't do anything right. They were right about me,”
“Who was?”
“The kids at school…” he says. Baselessly connecting the trauma of the past to the trauma of now.
“No.” Dennis says. “No, no, nope.” Charlie seems confused and stops sobbing for a moment, although tears and snot are still running down his face. He sits up and reaches for tissues and grabs a fistful. He lets Charlie stay in that position and starts wiping his face. “Fuck those kids at school. And also fuck that guy too. If he killed himself in front of strangers that's hardly your fault.”
“If I had just kept my mouth shut he wouldn't have died. He could've lived happily with all his race dogs in his RV,” Charlie says. Dennis is extremely doubtful about that.
“He would've done the same thing if he learned about it later too. That's not your fault. It's his fault for doing it in front of you,”
“Are… are you saying he like deserved it?”
“What? No! Well like, I don't know… I don't know the guy… didn't know the guy— anyways if he killed himself like that he's a dick. Maybe he wanted you to feel guilty,”
“I dunno… I dunno man, he was like… nice all day to us. He showed us around everywhere,”
“Okay then maybe he was already that depressed, that's not your fault, Charlie.” Charlie looks down at Dennis with big watery eyes. He uses the sleeves that his hands barely fit out of to wipe away his snot. Dennis takes his hand and rolls up the sleeve so it fits. While taking the other hand he says, “And you're not a retard. You're one of the smartest people I know.”
“I can't even read dude, or like write what are you talking about”
Dennis puts his arm back down and lets Charlie rest his hands on his chest. “Well you kind of learned how to. Plus didn't you like exchange letters with your Dad and make up your own languages. Also what about those gross Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pies, none of us could've done that. You were learning from Frank. You even made a chart like I did the other week. And you used a control point… even if it was cheese. Plus none of us know anything about Charlie Work, we would fuck it up.”
“You would, yeah.” he says quietly, leaving no room for doubt.
“You can cook, even if you choose to make your weird dishes instead. Your smash burgers were really fucking good. You can probably paint better than any of us either. Oh yeah, and that musical too. You're like a musical genius. How could I forget? Your silly songs. They're the best.”
“You're just saying that,” Charlie sniffles, as he wipes at his eyes and nose again.
“You know I don't give my compliments out for free unless I'm trying to get a girl.”
“...I guess,”
Dennis firmly places his hands on top of both of Charlie’s. “You're my favorite, don't tell anybody,”
Charlie's face goes through a wide range of emotions in the matter of seconds. Many stages of grief and his mind being blown. Yes, he's the favorite… not Mac.
“That's like uh… confessing your love or something man. Saying me instead of…”
Dennis puts a hand off Charlie to shush him, not wanting to talk about that.
“Look, do you trust me now?” he asks. Charlie nods. “Good. Let's go to sleep because I want to forget what happened today just as much as you do,” he says, turning to his side and gesturing for Charlie to join him. He lets himself become the little spoon and lets Dennis embrace him. He feels safe even though he shouldn't feel this privilege after the events of today.
The events of today…
“Say Dennis, why did you jerk off that dog? Are you like a furry now?”
“Nope!” Dennis says clasping Charlie’s mouth with his hand. “We are forgetting about all of what happened today.”
“Come on, I told you my thing. You can't just tell me yours,”
Dennis turns over and is no longer embracing Charlie. “Goodnight.”
“I-I’m just gonna ask Frank! I'm gonna go home and ask Frank, he can tell me all about it!”
“No you're not, goodnight.”
“If you don't tell me I'll start screaming.” Charlie says, almost like the truly did forget what he witnessed today and isn't trying to bury it in a crevice deep in his unconscious.
“Oh my god, fine. Just don't tell Mac, I don't need everybody to know,” he says.
Charlie happily listens to his story even if his face drops to disgust by the end of it. And he lays close to Dennis that night as they both fall asleep with the weights of their regrets.