Chapter Text
“Hey man, you want to pick the music?”
Dennis’ voice is soft, but it still sounds harsh in the heavy silence. He’s in the Range Rover with Mac in the passenger seat. They’ve been driving silently for fifteen minutes, and it’s starting to unnerve Dennis.
Mac hasn’t said a word since they left the prison. He’s still soaking wet. Any other night and Dennis would have bitched at Mac, or refused to let him in the car altogether. Tonight though, he didn’t say a word, hasn’t even considered what it’s doing to his upholstery.
Mac doesn’t answer. His head is resting against the window, and he’s curled in on himself and away from Dennis as much as he possibly can be. Dennis’ bites his lip, a million things that he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but he says nothing. He decides against turning on the radio, afraid to disturb the fragile figure huddled next to him.
Dennis, Charlie, and Dee had all seen Mac’s performance. They sat in the back, and Mac miraculously hadn’t noticed them the entire time he was on stage. It was supposed to be a surprise for Mac. A way, according to Frank, to show that they supported and accepted him. None of them knew what they were agreeing to see, and they all assumed it would be a ridiculous stunt and Mac would only embarrass himself, but Frank had offered to pay them just to show up. Dennis knew that he wouldn’t be seeking any money from Frank, that it would feel distinctly wrong to do so now.
Dennis is still reeling from it. He’s trying not to show how affected he was, but he can’t deny to himself how moved he was by Mac. He wasn’t the only one. Mac had remained cradled in his dance partner’s arms for several minutes at the end, his shoulders shaking, his sobs audible when the applause finally died down. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Dennis’ chest had ached more and more with each passing minute. Seeing Mac so vulnerable shook something loose in him, and Dennis had to break away from the others to wipe his face before they saw how overwhelmed he was.
When Frank finally managed to pick Mac back up at the end and coax him off stage, Dee shocked the rest of them by pulling Mac into a fierce hug. Dennis and Charlie had looked at each other, stunned at what was happening. Dee hadn’t hugged Mac in years, probably not since she and Dennis left for Penn.
She held on for a long time, whispering something Dennis couldn’t make out. Surprisingly, Mac didn’t shove her off. He nodded into her shoulder and tightened his grip, his eyes screwed shut. Dee’s eyes were wet when she finally pulled away, and she and Mac looked at each other significantly for a moment before he turned to the rest of the gang.
Charlie had immediately launched into a typical Charlie rant, high pitched and unnecessarily loud, raving about how great Mac was. Mac’s eyes were still red, and he welled up again the longer Charlie talked, clinging to every word he said and visibly drinking in the praise.
At one point, Frank broke away from the group. Dennis saw him head towards one of the prisoners in the audience, a man he vaguely recognized as one that was sitting near Luther. The thought of Luther evoked a fresh wave of rage; it had taken everything Dennis had not to jump out of his seat and beat the shit out of him when he’d walked out on Mac. It made him feel like he was sixteen again, when he would hang out at Mac’s and have to pull him out of the house, away from Luther. He would come home drunk nearly every night and immediately lay into Mac with no provocation. He’d bluster and yell about how Mac was pathetic, and a disappointment, and Mac would just stare at his feet, looking so small. They’d escape to the abandoned pool and smoke weed, and Dennis would do and say anything he could think of to distract Mac from his piece of shit father. He hadn’t felt that protective of Mac in almost thirty years, but it came crashing back like an avalanche the moment he saw Luther’s face tonight.
Frank had shaken the hand of the man he was speaking with, then meandered back to the group. Charlie and Dee were still gushing about the dance; Dennis was the only one who’d noticed Frank’s absence. He’d looked at Frank questioningly while the others were distracted. Frank shook his head minutely, gesturing to Mac. Dennis dropped it, but curiosity burned in him.
Charlie eventually stopped babbling, and a hush fell over the gang. Mac had looked at Dennis for the first time all night, his expression more vulnerable and open than usual, and Dennis’ heart seized. He knew Mac wanted some kind of validation from Dennis, knew that he craved it from Dennis more than anyone else in the gang. But Dennis couldn’t give him what he wanted in that moment. His own emotions were too fragile, he was worried what he might say if he opened his mouth.
So he just smiled. It was all he could manage, and he knew it wasn’t enough, but Mac returned his smile weakly anyway. Sometimes it broke Dennis’ heart the way Mac was always so unreservedly grateful for the bare minimum of Dennis’ affection.
Dee suggested they go back to the bar, but Mac shook his head and muttered an excuse about needing to change out of his wet clothes.
“Yeah, those jeans must be chafing like a bitch,” Dennis had said, and immediately wished the ground would open beneath him and swallow him whole. He hated himself intensely in that moment for letting that be the first thing he said to Mac.
Mac laughed weakly though, and Dennis changed his mind. It was worth it to hear him laugh.
He offered to drive them home while the rest of the gang went back to Paddy’s. They said their goodbyes, Charlie, Frank and Dee all parting with final compliments. He and Dennis made their way outside and into the car, and Mac had clammed back up the moment he closed the passenger door.
*
When they get back to the apartment, Mac makes a beeline for his room.
“Mac, wait,” Dennis calls just as Mac is turning the knob.
He turns to Dennis, looking more tired than Dennis has ever seen him look. He still doesn’t say a word, just waits for Dennis to continue.
“I uh,” Dennis starts, moving closer to Mac. He’s close enough now to see that Mac has goosebumps, and remembers that he’s still soaking wet.
“I just wanted to tell you, uh, you were really good tonight,” Dennis says, losing his nerve and dropping eye contact. “Incredible, really, I didn’t realize you were that um, limber.” He cringes at his feet. This is not what he wanted to say, it’s shallow and doesn’t adequately describe how categorically different Dennis feels.
He looks up to find Mac’s expression hasn’t changed. Dennis shifts uncomfortably.
“I mean it, Mac,” he says quietly. “I haven’t — I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time. Maybe ever. It was…inspiring,” he trails off, coughing quietly as he finishes.
It’s…still not enough, but it’s the best he can do for now.
Mac’s face falls, and Dennis panics, rewinding and trying to figure out what he said that was wrong. Mac’s lips tremble, slight enough that Dennis could still pretend he didn’t see, could turn around and walk away from this conversation now, retreat back to the stagnant indifference he’d been treating Mac with since he got back from North Dakota.
But he can’t stand it anymore. A childlike instinct takes over, his long dormant need to protect Mac rearing it’s head for the second time that night. He reaches out wordlessly and pulls Mac in, and Mac crashes into him, clutching at Dennis like a lifeline.
Mac buries his face in his shoulder, and Dennis holds on as tight as he can as Mac sobs. He rubs Mac’s back, shushes him, whispering “it’s okay,” into his hair. This makes Mac cry harder, his chest heaving against Dennis.
This has only happened once before, when Mac and Dennis were in high school and Luther had been arrested for the first time. That was the only other time in their lives that Dennis had seen Mac cry, and he held him through it then just as he was now. They had fallen asleep on Dennis’ bed that night, and woke tangled together, Mac’s head buried in Dennis’ neck. When he came to and realized where he was, Mac had pulled away in a panic and practically sprinted out of Dennis’ house. They never spoke of it again.
Mac startles as if he’s been shocked after a few minutes and pulls away, and it feels like deja vu.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathes, wiping at his eyes. Dennis swallows hard. “I know you don’t want me, you know,” he continues hoarsely, gesturing between them.
You don’t want me touching you, Dennis finishes in his head.
He shakes his head, ignoring every instinct telling him to pull away, and reaches to cup Mac’s cheek. Mac freezes, his eyes desperate. Dennis swipes his thumb under his eye, wiping away a stray tear.
“No, Mac, it’s alright,” he says quietly. “Come here.”
He moves his hand to the back of Mac’s neck and guides him back towards him. Mac only hesitates for a moment before nestling back into Dennis’ embrace.
Mac’s sobs intensify this time, the dam in his chest finally bursting after years of repression. He’s nearly hysterical when Dennis slowly walks them to the couch, easing Mac down next to him. Mac never removes his face from Dennis’ neck. Once they’re seated he wraps his arms around Dennis’ torso, mirroring his position with his dance partner a few hours ago.
Dennis doesn’t know how long they stay there. It feels like hours before Mac finally calms down, his breathing slowly returning to normal, his shoulders relaxing under Dennis’ hands as he strokes his back, his hair.
“Dennis?” Mac whispers, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?”
Mac pauses. Dennis can’t see his face, but he can sense him struggling with himself.
“My dad’s letters,” Mac starts. Dennis’ chest constricts. “Did he — did he really never say he loved me?”
His voice is so small. They may as well be fucking sixteen again, sitting at the bottom of that disgusting drained pool and passing a joint back and forth. Mac would spend hours waxing poetic about his dad and how deep down he knew he loved him, deep down he was a good Christian man who risked so much for the sake of his family. Dennis would listen to his delusions, biting his tongue and agreeing with everything Mac said, plying him with weed and sometimes alcohol, trying to fill the hole in Mac’s heart.
Now, Dennis grits his teeth, hating Luther, wishing intensely that he could rip his heart out the way he’s done to Mac his entire goddamn life.
“Please, Dennis,” Mac presses, voice shaky. “Just…tell me the truth. I need to know.”
Dennis hesitates. He considers lying again, but something tells him that it has to end. Mac deserves to know, needs to stop letting Luther have any say in his happiness or self worth. He needs to let him go once and for all.
Dennis pulls back, but he doesn’t let go of Mac as he looks at him. Mac’s eyes are red and puffy. He lifts a hand to his face again, brushing one of his swollen eyes with his thumb.
“No, Mac,” he says softly. “He never said it. I’m sorry.”
Mac just nods, expression blank. That almost breaks Dennis’ heart more than anything else. Mac looks so drained, his face empty and drawn.
“Mac?”
“I’m tired,” Mac deflects. “And cold. I’m gonna shower.”
Mac pulls away from Dennis, not looking at him as he heads to the bathroom. Dennis shivers, and realizes his own shirt is wet from Mac’s clothes and tears.
When he gets into bed thirty minutes later, he doesn’t sleep for a long time. He stares at the ceiling, thinking about Mac and how he looked tonight, how he made Dennis feel. He burns. Burns with rage, and empathy, and fear, and something else he can’t name. He feels his eyes prick with tears when he thinks of Mac cradled in her arms, the barely there whispers of “it’s okay,” playing in a loop in his head. The longer he thinks of those two words, the more he feels an overwhelming sense of calm. He finally falls asleep to her voice in his head, feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time.
*
Mac is already awake when Dennis gets up the next morning. He’s in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for his usual protein smoothie and dressed for the gym. He’s put on a pot of coffee and left a mug out for Dennis.
“Hey,” Dennis greets tentatively. Mac turns around, and he could not look more different from last night than if he’d grown a second head. He smiles easily at Dennis, and he looks ten years younger.
“Morning,” Mac answers. “I made coffee.”
“I see that,” Dennis responds, regretting it immediately. His dickish retorts are always right on the tip of his tongue these days. “Thank you,” he adds, trying to soften the blow.
Mac either didn’t detect the sarcasm at all or doesn’t care. He just smiles again and turns back to the blender.
Dennis pours himself a cup of coffee, then leans back against the counter as he drinks, watching Mac closely. His movements are light and easy, no tension at all in his shoulders. His expression is mild as he adds fruit and ice to the blender.
Mac notices his staring. “What?”
“Nothing, man.” Dennis pauses, hesitant to disturb the peace. He listens to the rhythmic sound of Mac chopping a banana into slices for a minute before pressing on. “Just…how are you feeling?”
Mac’s hand stills. He watches Dennis for a moment, his eyebrows creasing slightly. Dennis squirms a little under the scrutiny. Mac sighs and drops the knife, leans his hip against the counter and angles towards Dennis. His face smooths over.
“I’m great, Dennis,” he says, and his face is so earnest Dennis can’t help but believe him.
“You are?” Dennis turns to face Mac, mirroring his position against the counter.
“Yeah, dude.” Mac smiles, so bright Dennis’ breath catches slightly. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt a bit before continuing.
“Look uh, thank you, for last night,” Mac continues, and Dennis feels his cheeks warm. He takes a sip of coffee to avoid looking at Mac, and when he looks up Mac is staring at Dennis like he hung the moon.
“Really, Dennis, thank you,” he says softly. He swallows hard but continues. “After you went to bed, I stayed up for a long time last night, thinking about — about everything. And I decided that things are going to be different now. I feel different, you know, I need to let go of a lot of shit that’s been weighing me down, like — like my dad. It’s clear now that he’ll never — you know,” he trails off, his voice breaking and face pinching sadly for the first time.
He’s nervous, now. He’s not meeting Dennis’ eyes, his hands twisting in his shirt. Dennis struggles in the silence, not sure what to say, but Mac spares him by speaking again.
“And I think…” he starts, then takes a deep breath. Slowly he lifts his head and looks Dennis square in the face.
“I think I need to let go of you too,” he finally manages, and Dennis’ entire world flips on it’s axis.
Dennis is hardly aware of his hands dropping, hears the mug slamming onto the counter distantly. Mac jumps though, and gives Dennis a concerned look. However, when Dennis remains silent, Mac takes it as a sign to keep going.
“Not like, as friends dude,” he corrects. “I’m not saying that, you’ll always be my best friend. But I mean, I think you know… you know what I mean.” He’s blushing, and fiddling with his shirt again.
“No, Mac, I don’t know,” Dennis says, his voice icy.
“Come on dude, yes you do.” Mac is practically pleading, but Dennis won’t give in.
“No, I don’t,” he grates out. “Do you want me to move out, is that what you’re saying? You’re kicking me out, huh, now that your name is on the lease? You want to get back at me for kicking you out all those times?”
He knows it’s bullshit, he knows that Mac would never kick him out. He’s grasping at straws, trying to steer this conversation far far away from the inevitable. His heart is pounding in his chest.
Mac gapes at him. “Of course not, Dennis, how did you even—“ he falters. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his bedhead even more.
“Dennis, I’m in love with you.”
And there it is. Mac finally broke their unspoken rule. First rule of fight club and all that.
He’s staring at Dennis, waiting for a response, several expressions passing over his face before settling on resigned.
Dennis has no idea what his own face looks like. He’s trying to focus on calming his pulse, on making sure to breathe.
Again, Mac spares him a response, a kindness that Dennis probably doesn’t deserve.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, voice unbearably gentle. He knows, he always fucking knows when Dennis is moments from a meltdown. “I just needed you to know, okay?”
Dennis hears himself laugh, of all things. It’s just a short exhalation with no warmth to it.
“You needed me to know,” Dennis repeats quietly.
“Yeah, I do,” is all Mac says. He’s frowning, his eyebrows knit together. “Look, I’m not expecting anything here, okay? I heard you loud and clear, ‘it’s never gonna happen’. I get it."
“Then why are you telling me this, Mac?” Dennis asks, feeling hysteria bubbling in his throat. All of his alarms are blaring in his head at once. This is unwanted, hostile territory.
“Because I — I’m moving on, okay, I’m finally ready,” Mac stammers, looking bewildered at having to explain himself. “I let go of a lot of shit last night, right, but it’s for nothing if I’m still hung up on something that will never happen.”
“Then why couldn’t you have just ‘moved on’ without telling me that, huh? Jesus Christ,” Dennis counters, stepping away and running his hands down his face when his back is turned.
“It’s not like you didn’t already know,” Mac says behind him. “Don’t bullshit, dude, I know you knew.”
“Of course I knew,” Dennis snarls as he turns around. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window.”
Mac rolls his eyes. “I was not that obvious.”
Dennis laughs incredulously.
“No? Okay, then please, explain your very heterosexual and platonic reasons for buying me the RPG for Valentine’s Day?” Dennis asks, and its a low blow because that gift had meant the world to Dennis, and Mac knows it too. Mac doesn’t fight him on it though, just presses his lips together and lets Dennis continue his tirade. “Or when you wanted to raise Brian Jr. with me? Or all the times you tried to kiss me? Or when you—“
“Okay, shut up Dennis, Christ,” Mac interrupts. “Fine, you win! What’s your point?”
“What’s your fucking point?” Dennis counters. “You didn’t need to — I don’t — this doesn’t —“
“Calm down, Dennis,” Mac says. “I told you, I’m not expecting anything from you, okay. I just needed to get it off my chest.”
“Oh, well, great then, so happy you feel better Mac,” Dennis spits. He’s verging on cruel again, despite how fragile Mac probably still is. He can’t help it and he hates himself for it.
Mac just shakes his head. He must be wondering why he loves Dennis, why he wastes any of his time on someone like him.
“Listen, if you want to forget this happened, that’s fine,” Mac says after a moment, sounding exhausted. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I just want you to know, I’m gonna back off, alright?”
Dennis doesn’t answer. His ears are ringing, he feels exposed, raw and out of control. Mac watches him for several long minutes. Eventually he turns back to his smoothie, calmly dicing fruit and measuring protein powder as if he hadn’t just turned Dennis’ universe inside out. Mac turns on the blender, and distantly Dennis thinks the sound perfectly mimics the turmoil in his head.
When he leaves for the gym five minutes later, he pauses on his way out of the kitchen. Dennis hasn’t moved. He’s frozen, unable to force his limbs to move. Mac tentatively reaches for his shoulder, just resting his hand on it. Dennis’ skin prickles at the contact, even through his shirt.
“Thanks again for last night, Dennis,” Mac says quietly. He looks as if he wants to say more, but decides against it at the last minute. He removes his hand and leaves, shutting the apartment door quietly behind him. Dennis immediately misses the warmth from his hand.
“Shit,” Dennis mutters to himself. He’s fucked.
*