Chapter Text
Mac was pretty sure he was in love with Matthew Walker.
They were in fifth grade and Matthew had all the cool new toys. He wasn't afraid to break the rules and he would talk back to teachers even though Mac was terrified of them. Matthew was pretty much the coolest person he knew.
Matthew hung out with Mac and Charlie and they would run around during recess and play tag and Matthew would show them his G.I. Joe figures and a few cassette tapes. He would call Mac “Ronnie” and ruffle his hair and they even traded shirts once because Matthew’s was just so cool and Mac really wanted it, so they traded shirts right then and there.
They walked to school together with Charlie and they would even hold hands sometimes, just the two of them. Charlie would look at their hands but he wouldn't say anything, except for one time when he reached for Mac’s hand too but Mac pulled his hand back and then Charlie threw a hissy fit the rest walk. It was fine, though; Matthew’s hand was warm and heavy in Mac’s hand and if he focused on that, he could drown out Charlie’s complaining. Mac thought vaguely that he had seen boys and girls at school hold hands like this, giggling and running around and kissing in the corner when they thought the teachers wouldn't see them.
Mac and Matthew held hands all the way to their class until a teacher saw them in the hallway and immediately pulled them aside. She was appalled, she said, disgusted that they would ever do such a thing. They were both boys, it was outrageous that they would act as if they were in love.
Mac and Matthew got sent to the principal’s office and Matthew didn't really seem to care, but Mac was shaking and held back tears in his eyes. He wanted to grab back onto Matthew’s hand and lean onto his shoulder and cry but he—he couldn't do that, that wasn't right. The principal explained it to them, explained that God would smite them for their sins and that if they kept up with their homosexual tendencies, surely they would be sent to hell.
Mac nodded the entire time, trying to control his shaking lip. What the principal was saying made sense, it was in the bible so it had to be true. Mac didn't know all that much about the world or God, but he knew that much. All of it was just a test and Mac had failed it, but he wouldn't fail it later, he would never fail the test again. He would do right by God after this, he would never even look at another boy in a way that could indicate any kind of unholy or sinful emotions.
Mac explained all of this to Charlie but he didn't seem to understand, not even when Mac explained that he would go to hell if he held hands with Matthew again. But Mac was nearly crying again and Charlie didn't really want to deal with that, so he just nodded and agreed and accepted it when Mac said that they couldn't be friends with Matthew anymore, not when he continued to be a sinner.
Mac was pretty sure he hated Matthew Walker.
Charlie was convinced he was in love.
Her name was Melanie and she was in eighth grade, a year older than him and Mac. She was pretty and smart and she talked to Charlie once and Charlie fell in love immediately.
“How do you know, though?” They were both in Charlie’s basement like they normally were, Mac sprawled out on the couch with Charlie laying on the floor. Charlie had been gushing about this girl for so long and Mac had mostly just tuned it out, used to Charlie’s little crushes and not really caring about them anymore.
“How do I know what?” Charlie tilted his head so he could make eye contact with Mac again.
“How do you know you're in love?” Mac asked.
Charlie considered the question for a moment. He opened his mouth a few times to start talking before he closed it again, fumbling for the words. “I just—” he paused again. Mac started to regret asking the question. “I just know, man. I don't really know how to explain it, but she's, like, the one for me, bro.”
Mac frowned. “You say that, but it doesn't really answer my question.” Charlie didn't respond, he just looked at Mac with that confused expression he so often had, like he was trying to understand but he just couldn't. “Like- like—” he gestured vaguely at the air and sighed. “I don't know, man. How do you know she's the one? How do you—How do you even know that you like like her, and not that you just like her?”
“Ron,” he said, because he never really listened when Mac kept insisting that he wanted to be called Mac, “have you never had a crush before?” He sat up and turned his body so he was looking directly at Mac.
Mac paused. “No, I—I’ve totally had a crush before. I've had so many crushes on girls. They're all just—I just have a crush on every girl, actually, because they're all so pretty. Except for Heather, she smells like cats and I saw her pick her nose and she hissed at me I think, but other than that—”
“You can tell me if you've never had a crush before,” Charlie interrupts. “It's totally fine. I mean, I don't think it’s normal, but that's fine, too.”
Mac clenched his jaw. “I am normal, Charlie,” he said. He could feel heat bubbling in his chest. He was normal, he swore he was. He had crushes on plenty of girls! They were pretty and they usually smelled nice and they would laugh at his jokes and they found it funny when he held his breath so long that he passed out that one time. He had plenty of crushes, he was normal.
Charlie stood up. “Woah, woah, I'm sorry, bro, I didn't mean it like that. You don't have to worry about that. I'm sure you're normal.” He sat down on the couch next to Mac and Mac looked at his own hands for a moment, worried that if he looked at Charlie that it would be clear that he wasn’t normal.
Charlie sighed and leaned back against the couch. “It just—It feels kinda like butterflies, maybe? Like little bugs all up in your stomach. Not like when you actually eat bugs, because that just kinda feels like nothing, but it feels like you just grabbed a bug and stuck it right inside you and it's still alive and moving, y’know?” Charlie looked at Mac and Mac nodded, relaxing a little. “And it- it feels like you're just full of happy. I want to laugh when I'm with her, and I want to touch her, and I want her to laugh at my jokes. I feel a little bit like throwing up but that might just be the stomach bugs. I just want to see her happy, man. That's what a crush is.”
Mac nodded. He felt tears in his eyes for some reason and he hated himself for it. He thought of Matthew from fifth grade and he thought about Rob in his English class and then he thought about God and the bible and hell. He swallowed past a lump in his throat.
“Oh, yeah, I've got that all the time with girls,” Mac said, and he made sure he didn't look at Charlie when he said it. “I'm pretty sure Amy has a crush on me. She's always touching my arm and asking for a pencil and she always laughs at my jokes.”
Charlie laughs a little and nods. He doesn't mention that he doesn't really believe Mac, but Mac doesn't need to know that. He's just glad Mac is breathing a little bit easier now, going on a rant about Amy and how funny she thinks he is.
Mac became friends with Dennis their second year of high school.
Dennis was looking to buy some weed and he was fucking clueless about it. All he knew was that Ronnie was the guy to go to if you wanted drugs, and he wanted some drugs. Mac almost felt bad about making the guy pay so much for one joint. Almost.
Mac remembered having one or two classes with Dennis during their freshman year. He was the pretty boy that sat in the front of the class and didn't really talk to the people around him. One of the smarter kids in class, someone Mac might've talked to if he needed answers to a test, except Dennis almost seemed too goody-two-shoes to go along with it.
Dennis came back for more weed, which was unsurprising. Drug dealing was a business full of regulars; it was the key to what made it successful. It didn't matter if Mac overpriced some things sometimes, or if he was a bit of an asshole. Kids needed their drugs, and Mac was really the only guy they could go to.
The third time Dennis bought from him, Mac just invited him to hang out with him and Charlie. He had already interrupted their very nice smoke session during lunch, so he might as well stay. Dennis had laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, but then Mac said that they could share a joint, free of charge, and Dennis couldn't say no to that.
After that, Dennis just never left. He quickly became a constant in Mac’s life, hanging out with him and Charlie during lunch and then buying some weed now and then. At some point, Mac just stopped charging him. They would usually get high together anyway, so it was a waste for Dennis to spend the money. Dennis still offered to pay from time to time, but business was good and Mac was just happy to spend time with Dennis.
They were all hanging out in Dennis’ room.
It was Saturday night and neither of his parents were home, so Mac, Charlie, and Schmitty all went over there. They were all wasted, unlikely to remember the night, but none of them really cared that much. It was normal, a nice constant in their life. Get wasted, forget the week they just had as well as the night they were having. It was nice.
Except Charlie and Schmitty were gone. They both left at some point, Schmitty saying that he promised his mom he would be home before midnight even though it was definitely past midnight by the time he left, and Charlie grumbled something nearly unintelligible before standing up on shaky legs and leaving. Mac normally walked home with him, wanting to make sure he got back to his place safely, but Sweet Dee offered to do it instead. She was nice and she was always nice to Charlie, but she was weird and had that whole brace thing going. Mac thought that Dee treated Charlie almost like a puppy sometimes, but Charlie didn't seem to mind. Sweet Dee grabbed some pepper spray and said that if she wasn't back within an hour, Dennis should go looking for her because she was probably dead, but Dennis just grunted and let her leave.
So it was just Mac and Dennis. They were drunk and tired, laying on the ground. Mac could feel Dennis’ body heat from how close they were. If Mac just let his hands fall from where they were tangled on his chest, he was sure he could grab Dennis’ hand and hold it. Part of him wanted to. All of him was terrified.
“Do you ever—” Dennis started to say, but his voice was rough from how long they had just been laying there, not speaking, so he had to clear his throat before he continued. “Do you ever wonder if there's more than this?”
Mac stopped for a little. The question was unexpected from Dennis. They were both pretty fun drunks, Mac liked to think, spending most of their time laughing and doing dumb shit. But Dennis’ voice sounded unbearably serious, choked up a little. Maybe they had done this before, had serious conversations like this, but Mac had just been too drunk to remember them.
“Maybe,” Mac said, before realizing that it was not really an answer. “I mean—I don't really think about it.” He was lying, but maybe it didn’t count if he wasn’t even sure he was lying.
Dennis frowned. “I do,” he admitted. “Maybe there isn't anything more. Maybe this is it.”
Mac dropped his hands from their spot on his chest. They brushed against Dennis’. His heart was in his throat. “Maybe.” His fingers moved with a mind of their own, first just touching Dennis’ hand before they got more confident, slowly intertwining their fingers. “If this is it, though, I think I'm okay with that.”
Dennis squeezed Mac’s hand lightly. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look at Mac, but Mac could see the way the corners of his mouth ticked up a little. “Yeah. I think I'm okay with it, too.”
They didn’t talk the rest of the night. Or if they did, Mac didn’t remember it. They fell asleep at some point, still on the floor. Mac woke up with a mild headache and a pain in his neck. Dennis was sitting up but he was still next to Mac. He wasn’t doing much, just looking at his hands as they fidgeted, fingers flicking against each other. Mac smiled a little.
Unlike most mornings, Mac remembered the night before. He remembered the weight of Dennis’ hand in his own, the way he wanted nothing more than to crawl on top of Dennis and kiss him stupid. He looked at Dennis now and still felt that urge.
It was okay. Mac would go to confession tomorrow.
Mac felt a little like throwing up.
It was the day after prom and he felt miserable. It wasn't just because of all the alcohol he had the night before, he knew that. He felt a sickness deep in his stomach, a pit that made Mac want to cry a little.
The night before, Mac had lost his virginity. To Dennis’ prom date.
Part of Mac wanted to tell Dennis immediately that he had slept with his prom date. He didn't know what to do with his life if he didn’t talk to Dennis about it. But Dennis’ prom date was bitching about how rude Dennis was, already pissed and looking to piss off Dennis some more, so she pulled Mac away. Part of Mac thought Dennis would be impressed, would almost applaud him for how good he was with ladies.
That was a stupid thought, though. That was made clear the second he saw Dennis later that night. Mac was full of adrenaline and itching to tell someone what happened. Dennis was fuming, though, outraged that his date had run off to bang some other dude. Mac realized it would be stupid to tell Dennis that it was him.
“I think I saw Tim Murphy drive her to the party at Young’s house,” he said instead, because that was true. “I bet they're banging,” he said, even though it wasn't true.
He held Dennis back when Dennis claimed that he was going to murder Tim Murphy, somehow convincing him that it wasn't worth the effort, that he could get back at him later. Instead, they went and got wasted with Charlie.
So now, Mac felt a little like throwing up.
He didn't know how to tell Dennis that Tim Murphy never slept with his prom date, that it was actually him, that he was a terrible friend. He didn't know if he could ever tell him.
Mac certainly couldn't tell him that she still smelled like the terrible cologne Dennis was wearing that night. Mac couldn't tell him that he closed his eyes the entire time they fucked, that he thought about the fact that she had kissed Dennis just like Mac wanted to, that he nearly said Dennis’ name when he came and it was only out of fear of God that he didn't. He couldn't tell anyone that.
Mac ran to the bathroom and threw up.
The first time Mac and Dennis kissed, they were still in high school.
It was one of the last days of senior year. The fact that they showed up to school at all was a miracle honestly, even though they were skipping most of their classes to get high under the bleachers.
It was one of the days that Charlie hadn't shown up at all. He wasn't going to college, he wasn't going to get his grades any higher, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be doing any more reading, so it didn't matter if he showed up. It made sense.
So it was just Mac and Dennis under the bleachers. They shared a joint and sat a little bit closer to each other than they would have if anybody else was around to see. They talked about Dennis going off to college soon and Mac lied about having some job interviews set up. Dennis knew he didn't, but he didn't say anything.
Mac rested his head on Dennis’ shoulder. He felt comfortable. He felt safe.
“I'm gonna miss you, bro,” Mac said.
“I'm not leaving yet,” he promised. “We still got a few months before I go to college.” He lifted his shoulder to jostle Mac’s head and laughed a little. “After that, though, I'll probably replace you and get a new best friend. Maybe a hot babe this time.”
Mac stiffened. He tried to make sure Dennis didn't notice. “I don't know whether to be offended that you would replace me that fast or be happy that you said I'm your best friend,” Mac said.
“Just take the compliment, Ronnie,” Dennis said, a small smile still on his face.
Mac immediately sat up, because fucking Ronnie? “Fucker, I told you not to call me that anymore—” but he couldn't keep himself from smiling a little. He enjoyed this time with Dennis. Even as he tried to keep some fake anger up, he was too happy to really be mad.
Before Mac could see it coming, Dennis leaned forward and kissed him. Mac paused. He didn't kiss back, but he didn't push Dennis away, either. He was high and happy and he didn't really know what to think or what to say.
And then Dennis pulled away. He was smiling, still, a dopey grin on his face that made Mac want to kiss him again. Dennis stood up and held out his hand and Mac couldn't do anything.
“C’mon,” Dennis said. “Let's go do something.”
Mac stared at Dennis' hand for a second before he took it, using it to help himself up. It didn't matter that they still had classes that they had originally planned to go to. It didn't matter that they probably wouldn't talk about this and that it would eat up Mac for years to come. It didn't matter that they didn't have a plan for where they were going and what they were going to do.
All that mattered was that they were still together.
Dennis was off at college and everything was different.
Or nothing was different. Mac couldn't quite tell.
Dennis was still in Philadelphia, so he would hang out with Mac and Charlie most weekends and during breaks. They would call sometimes, but mostly they wouldn't.
Mac felt like he was in middle school again. It felt like it was just him and Charlie again, sitting in Charlie’s mom’s basement for eternity. Except now they were huffing glue.
“I think you're in love with Dennis, bro.” Charlie said it like it's the easiest thing in the world.
Mac sat up straighter and immediately went into defense mode. “What the fuck, man? You can't just say shit like that! I'm not—Dennis is my best friend, I'm not fucking in love with him.”
Charlie frowned. “He's your best friend?” He reached his hand out, and Mac passed over the glue. “No, it's fine, whatever. Separate thing. First, we gotta talk about you being in love with Dennis.”
“I'm not in love with Dennis.”
“You haven't shut up about the man since you came over here! You've barely shut up about him since he went to college—hell, you've barely shut up about him since sophomore year.” Charlie shrugged. Huffed some glue. “You're fucking in love with him, man.”
Mac snagged the glue from Charlie with a little more force than he needed to. He was worried his throat was about to close from all the anxiety inside of him. He needed to be a lot higher to have this conversation. “Whatever, man. It's not—you can't just say shit like that,” he said again. “I'm not gonna be sent to hell for being a fag, and I’m sure as fuck not gonna be sent to hell over Dennis fucking Reynolds.”
“Hey, no need to be all upset,” Charlie said. “I won't tell God, you're all safe here.”
“Charlie, that's now how God works.”
“I don't know how God works! I just assume He’s like—like a universal parent or something. What He doesn't know can't hurt Him. If my mom doesn't know we’re huffing glue in her basement, she can't be mad about it. If God doesn't know you're in love with Dennis, He can't send you to hell.”
Even though it was ridiculous, Mac considered it for a second. Just one second. And then he realized how fucking stupid it was and pushed it away. He wasn’t gay, so it didn’t matter anyway.
“I'll still love you even if you love Dennis,” Charlie said. “You're still—You’re my brother, y’know? You're my best friend. And I know I'm yours, you're just a little gay for Dennis so you won't admit it.”
Mac wanted to protest the statement, but he was too tired to. Or he was too high.
“I'll love you, though,” Charlie continued. “I think—I think that if you are gonna be gay, you should at least get better taste in guys, but to each their own, or whatever. But I’ll love you even if you're gay. I'll love you even if God doesn't.”
Mac rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder. When he closed his eyes, a few tears fell. Neither of them said anything.
Living with Dennis was—good. It was good.
They argued a bit, and Dennis seemed to find every possible way to get under Mac’s skin, but it was fine. It was good. They had their ups and downs, but it was good.
Mac enjoyed movie nights. He enjoyed the excuse to just spend time with Dennis. He enjoyed sitting on the couch with him watching whatever show they could. He enjoyed watching as Dennis moved around the kitchen to make them dinner. He enjoyed having someone to get drunk with just about every night. He enjoyed when Dennis would prop his legs up on Mac’s lap and he would just let it happen, not saying anything.
Mac didn't enjoy getting yelled at and having mugs thrown on the floor. He didn't enjoy doubting half of his thoughts just because Dennis didn't agree with him. He didn't enjoy hearing Dennis bang girls damn near every night. He didn't enjoy getting kicked out of his own apartment so Dennis could have sex. He didn't enjoy coming home just to find out that Dennis had sex in Mac’s bed “to spice it up a little”—but if Mac jerked off before washing his sheets, nobody needed to know that.
Even with those things, it was good. Mac could deal with that.
What Mac couldn't deal with was Dennis standing in his doorway, one hand covering his eyes but his fingers spread so he could still see Mac because he's a fucking asshole. “Hey, don't stop on account of me,” he said, and he laughed a little.
Mac froze for only a second when his bedroom door opened. Once his brain kickstarted, he fumbled for his blanket to cover himself. “Get the fuck out, man! What the fuck is wrong with you, I thought we talked about knocking first, jesus.”
Dennis laughed again and dropped his hand. Mac was mostly covered now, but it didn't take away the embarrassment that was stuck in his chest. Having anybody walk in on him while he was jerking off would fucking suck, but Dennis? God, it made it so much worse. “Didn't mean to ruin all your fun, man, just wanted to check if you were gonna come out to watch a movie like we planned.”
Mac exhaled shakily. He was still trying to control himself, to catch his breath, and he prayed to God that his erection would somehow go away in the next second or two. “Fuck, man, yeah, I just—give me a second, or—”
“Hey, hey, you're all good,” Dennis assured him. He took a few more steps into the room, and if Mac thought he would listen, he would probably just ask him to leave. But there was a glint in Dennis’ eyes and Mac knew that no amount of begging or pleading could get him out. “I mean, I wouldn't want to ruin your plans for the night. And it looks like you're still up for a good time.” He looked pointedly at Mac’s hands which were trying desperately to hide the fact that he was still hard. Clearly, Dennis wasn't as willing to ignore that fact as Mac was. “We can just merge the plans. Put on something sexy to watch and go to the living room and both have a fun night.”
“Woah, what the fuck?” Mac said, and he sat up a little straighter, wanting to back away from Dennis but not quite sure how to do that. “I'm not—this isn't like, some gay shit, right? Because I'm not gay, man, I'm not gonna let you suck me off or whatever the fuck you were thinking.”
Dennis shrugged. He took another step towards Mac. “I won't touch you at all if you don't want me to, Mac. I'm just saying we have movie night and we both get off. Seems like a win-win to me.”
There was a lump in Mac’s throat and he tried to swallow it. The look in Dennis’ eyes was—it was downright sinful, is what it was. Eyes that begged Mac to say yes, to do whatever was asked of him. If Mac were a slightly different person, he would say no.
“Fuck it,” Mac sighed. “Sure, yeah, just—keep your hands to yourself. And get out of my fucking room.”
Dennis smiled at him and Mac wanted to grab his head and—and slam it against something, maybe. He didn’t want to kiss the smile off his lips, he didn’t, because he's not gay, and that would definitely be gay. So he didn’t want to do that.
Dennis walked out of Mac’s room and closed the door behind him. Mac sighed. His chest felt tight and his erection was flagging a little now but he was in too deep, he couldn’t back out of this now. And—it wasn't gay if they didn’t touch, right? They were just two friends who happened to be jerking off, that's not gay. There's no way that was gay! The Bible never said anything about jerking off with your buddy, and as long as they kept their hands to themselves and watched whatever the fuck Dennis picked out, then they were set. No sinning involved, nothing for Mac to go to confession about.
With a huff, Mac dragged himself out of bed. He got dressed even though he knew he was just gonna pull his dick out anyway, but it felt a lot less weird if he still had a shirt on or something. Walking out there butt ass naked would just be a bit too much, Mac thought.
It was weird. It was definitely weird.
Dennis had found some fucking porn to put on the TV and the sounds of a girl getting fucked were ringing through the apartment and it was fucking weird.
Mac didn't move for a little bit. His dick was getting softer by the second—because of how awkward it was, he decided. If it was just him and the porn, he'd be hard and jerking off. It was just because of the awkwardness that he wasn't that hard anymore, not because the woman on screen wasn't all that appealing to him.
Dennis made the move first. He undid his jeans and dipped his hand into his boxers. Mac looked at him out of the corner of his eye, watched as Dennis’ hand moved slowly under the fabric. It didn't take long before Dennis did even more, though, taking his dick out of his underwear completely and—
Mac looked back at the screen. He kept his eyes trained on it and ignored the ringing in his ears. This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea.
“C’mon, man,” Dennis said, and he kept his eyes trained on the screen, too. “It's weird if I’m the only one doing it.”
Mac thought it was weird regardless, but he did as he was told. His hand was nearly shaking as he took his dick out. He moved his hand up and down slowly, steadying his breathing, focusing on the girl on the TV. She had—she had large boobs, which he knew Dennis would find appealing. She was blonde. She was very loud, much louder than she needed to be. She was kind of pretty, Mac guessed, though he didn't really understand the appeal.
Almost out of instinct, his eyes drifted. He caught sight of Dennis and his hand wrapped around his dick. Mac took note of the way Dennis’ head tipped back when he brushed his fingers against the tip of his cock, how he bit his lip after a sharp inhale. Mac hoped that he would forget how it looked one day, but he knew that probably wouldn't happen.
Mac sped up his own pace. He looked back at the TV—if not for the porn, then to make sure that Dennis didn't catch him staring. And he wasn't staring, he wasn't, he didn't care about how Dennis looked while he was jerking off and he didn't care about the light breathy noises he was making. He was just doing it to make sure that—that they were on the same page, that it wasn't awkward at all. That's what it was.
They didn't say anything as they jerked off. Both of them tried to bite back their moans, but a few slipped past their lips. Mac ate it up every time Dennis let it slip, always holding back a whine of his own when Dennis would be loud. His eyes couldn't stop glancing back at Dennis, back at his dick, back at his blissful face. It was goddamn intoxicating that Mac couldn't look away from it.
For a brief second, Dennis looked over, too. He had that stupid fucking smirk on his face like he knew he was putting on a good show, like he knew Mac was getting off on it. Their eyes met for half a second and—and Mac was gone. Mac closed his eyes shut as he came, and he didn't even bother holding back his moan.
Dennis made a noise that sounded almost like a laugh and came not long after. They stayed still for a second, breathing deeply, composing themselves.
And then Dennis stood up. He turned off the video and threw a rag at Mac. “Wasn't even that good of a porno,” he said, but he said it more to himself than to Mac.
Mac felt a bit dazed. He felt a bit dirty, even beyond the cum coating his hands. He felt a bit guilty.
“Well. That was a great movie night,” Dennis said, as if Mac wasn't having a crisis right in front of him. “I'm gonna hop in the shower.”
Mac barely moved as Dennis left. He listened as the bathroom door slammed shut, as the water started. He listened to his own breathing.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He knew how to do that. Deep breaths until the ringing in his ears was gone and he could stand on legs that weren't too shaky.
Mac knew he should probably shower, too. He knew he should probably do a lot of things.
Mac shoved his face into his pillow. He breathed a bit more. When he pulled away, his pillow was wet from tears.
Mac slept.
“Wait, wait, Mac—stay?”
It almost hurt Mac to look at him. He so rarely saw Dennis this low, this broken. The golden god rarely let anyone see him while he was anything but perfect, and this was—this was certainly not perfect. This was the shell of a man.
Mac nodded. “Yeah, of course, man.” He laid down on the bed next to Dennis. It was nice; Mac’s body was exhausted from helping Dennis all the way back to their apartment. Dennis was wasted, he could barely walk on his own, and he was an absolute wreck. So of course, Mac had to clean up the pieces.
Dennis tucked his head into Mac’s collarbone. Mac froze a little, unsure of what to do. Was he allowed to touch Dennis? Would he get yelled at if he did? Would he get yelled at if he didn't? He didn't know.
He settled for resting a hand on Dennis’ back, moving slowly. He could feel his shirt getting damper where Dennis’ head was tucked into it, tears seeping into the fabric. He didn't say anything.
For a while, they just lay there. Mac moved his hand slowly and steadily. Dennis stopped shaking and his grip on Mac loosened. For a moment, Mac thought that Dennis had fallen asleep. Mac was considering drifting off too until he heard Dennis speak again.
“There's so much,” Dennis said. Mac didn't know what he meant. He didn't know what to say. He just waited for a moment. Dennis took the hint. “All the—the emotions. Dee says I don't have emotions anymore, but I do. I do have emotions, Mac. I feel things. I feel them—I feel them all the time, I feel them so much. I don't want to feel them.”
He was crying again. A sob slipped past his lips. Carefully, Mac moved the hand that rested on Dennis’ back to Dennis’ hair. He had only done this a few other times, when Dennis was just as shitfaced and miserable, and having a hand in his hair always seemed to help Dennis a little. It was a grounding thing, Mac thought.
“Well, emotions aren't—they aren't always bad,” Mac said, but he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say. “Sometimes they're good. We need to feel them so we can feel that good.”
Dennis tried to steady his breath again. He inhaled and exhaled in time with the movement of Mac’s hand in his hair. He leaned into the touch as much as he could.
His voice was quieter when he spoke next, so quiet that Mac could barely hear it. “I think I'm broken,” he said. “I don't think other people—I don't think I’m like other people. I don't think I'm normal. I don't think I feel the same things as them.”
Mac frowned. The conversation felt like one Mac had had before. It resonated deep in his gut in a way he couldn't quite explain. He knew the pain that Dennis felt and he didn't want Dennis to feel it. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to take that feeling away from him, but he knew he had to try. Dennis didn't deserve that feeling.
Mac sighed. “I don't know if you're normal,” he said, “but I think that's fine. I don't—I don't think I'm normal.” His voice cracked with the confession of it. He ignored the burning of tears in his eyes.
Dennis nodded. Mac could hear the deep breath he took. “I think I feel more emotions than other people, not less. It's just—I don't want to. I don't understand it all. I feel all these emotions but so much of the time it's just—it's just anger somehow, and I don't know what to do with that, I don't know what to do with all of that anger, it's too much, I can't—”
Mac leaned over and kissed Dennis’ forehead. He listened to Dennis sob into his chest. “It'll be okay,” he said. “Or—it won't be, maybe. But I think it will be. I think we’ll be fine.” With his free hand, he grabbed one of Dennis’ hands and intertwined their fingers. He squeezed. “We can be not normal together.”
They didn't speak anymore. Dennis cried a little bit longer, and at some point, he fell asleep. Mac watched him, made sure he was okay, made sure he was breathing properly. He was sure Dennis would have an unbearable headache in the morning, hungover and dehydrated. He would have to remember to grab him a cup of water if he woke up first.
Mac thought about the night he first held hands with Dennis, both of them drunk and stupid high schoolers. He thought about middle school and about crushes. He thought about his sins and prayed that God would forgive him for all of them. He prayed that God would forgive him for this one the most.
Mac fell asleep later, too. Fingers tracing gently through Dennis’ hair, listening to the rise and fall of his breath, the weight of Dennis’ hand heavy in his own, he slept.
When they both woke up the next morning, they didn't talk about the night before. Mac wasn't sure if Dennis even remembered it. Even if he did, Mac knew Dennis wouldn’t bring it up.
Maybe that was fine. Maybe it didn't matter.
Mac had kissed a few dudes before.
Everyone had kissed a few dudes before, he was pretty sure. During games of spin the bottle and truth or dare, when he was drunk and loose and willing to forget whatever the night brought, when he was lonely and tired enough that it didn't really matter.
It was never—it was never gay. He never did it in that way, never did it in a sinful way. Kissing another man wasn't inherently gay, he was nearly sure of that. It didn't matter if he got hard when he made out with them sometimes, because he had made out with girls before and so he was just thinking about that, just thinking about the girls he kissed and how much he liked kissing girls. Surely that's why, because that's the only thing that made sense.
Yeah, that's why Mac was hard. Pushed against the wall, Dennis’ knee lodged between Mac’s legs, his body pressed up against Mac’s in every way possible. They were drunk and Dennis had started some stupid fight before it, so that's why it wasn't gay. Dennis had told him that, so it had to be true.
“It's not gay if we won't remember it in the morning,” Dennis said the first time he leaned in to kiss Mac after they had closed up Paddy’s, and Mac remembered it in the morning anyway, but they didn't talk about it, so Mac figured that was close enough.
“It's not gay if we’re fighting,” Dennis said the first time he pushed Mac against the fridge and bit his lip so hard it started bleeding. “It's not—It's not gay if I hate you. It's not gay if I'm doing it to punish you.” And that seemed like sound enough logic to Mac, especially when the taste of blood in his mouth was only spurring him on more and Dennis was grinding against his leg desperately.
So it wasn't gay then, and it wasn't gay now. Their fight was mostly forgotten and behind them, but it was fine, they were arguing before they kissed, so it wasn't gay.
Dennis’ hand cupped Mac’s dick through his jeans and Mac sighed. His whole body was thrumming and he was definitely sober enough to know what was happening and he would remember it the next day but that was fine. He was moaning and he was hard and Dennis’ lips were soft against his and everything felt right, everything felt okay.
“So hard for me already,” Dennis muttered against his neck. “Fuck, so good for me.”
Mac’s head hit the wall behind him with a thump and he whined. Dennis always knew how to crawl under his skin, always knew what made Mac tick.
“Dennis, Den, I want—” he swallowed and closed his eyes, breathed deep. He was drunk, he was angry. It wasn't gay. It wasn't gay. “Touch me, please, I—I want it, man.”
Dennis’ face was pressed against Mac’s neck and Mac could feel Dennis smile. Dennis bit lightly at Mac’s skin and he thrust up into Dennis’ hand. “Not yet, baby boy,” Dennis said. “Gotta earn it. Gotta earn my touch, gotta be a good boy.” He moved his hand and grabbed Mac’s ass instead, smiling when Mac whined again. “Do you think you've earned it yet?”
Fuck, Mac’s head felt like it was full of static. He could barely think, all he could focus on was Dennis’ hands and lips and chest, all touching Mac, all overwhelming.
“Hm, yeah, I didn't think so, either,” Dennis said. “So you gotta prove it to me, baby.” Dennis took a few steps back and Mac felt cold all of a sudden, felt like crying a little. God, he just wanted Dennis against him again.
“Anything,” Mac said. “Anything, Den, please.”
Dennis cupped Mac’s face. His thumb brushed against Mac’s bottom lip and Mac had never been that hard before. But then Dennis pushed his thumb past his lips, ran his thumb against Mac’s tongue, and Mac couldn’t help but suck on the finger. It was on instinct, it only made sense.
Dennis smiled at him. “Yeah, that's a start,” he said. “But that's not gonna be enough, baby.” His grip on Mac’s face tightened a little and his eyes went dark. “Get on your knees.”
Mac paused. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, took a step back. “Dennis, I—” Dennis put his hands on Mac’s shoulders and started pushing him down, and Mac went with it. “Dennis, I'm not—I'm not gonna suck your dick, man, I'm not gay, I'm not—”
Dennis sighed. He ran one hand through Mac’s hair, messing it up. “You're fine,” he said. “I'm not gonna give you an existential crisis tonight, you're fine.” He took off his belt and unbuckled his jeans and Mac almost couldn't breathe.
Before, there was some—some deniability. He could always pretend that he wasn't actually sneaking glances at Dennis’ dick, he could always pretend that he was just doing this for himself, just doing it so he could get off. But it was different this way. Dennis’ dick was right there, right next to Mac’s face, and Mac didn't know what to do.
“You're gonna have to beg for it, though,” Dennis said. “If you wanna cum.”
Mac opened his mouth for a second before closing it again. His throat felt dry and Dennis pulling his dick out did not help at all.
“C’mon, Mac,” Dennis said. He stroked his dick slowly, his eyes trained on Mac. Mac didn't know where to look; he didn't know if he should keep looking at Dennis or if he should look at Dennis’ dick, he didn't know which one was worse. “You want me to touch you? You want to cum?”
Mac took a deep breath. He licked his lips. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, yes, Dennis, please, I want—I want to cum. Please.”
Dennis smiled. He let go of his dick and held his hand out to Mac. “Lick my hand,” he commanded. Mac hesitated for only a moment before he did it. “Good boy,” Dennis said. He started jerking himself off again, faster this time. “So pretty on your knees for me, desperate for it. You'd do anything I asked, wouldn't you? You would suck my dick if I asked nicely enough.”
Mac wanted to deny it, but he knew he couldn't. Even just having Dennis’ dick in front of his mouth was making him reconsider it, trying to string some excuse in his head for how sucking a dick wasn’t gay. But he couldn’t, so he stayed silent.
“Yeah, I knew it,” Dennis said. His head tipped back and he moaned. Mac’s hips jerked in the air, desperate for some friction. “C’mon, baby, start begging. Start begging if you want to cum.”
If Mac were maybe a little bit less horny and a little bit less drunk, he wouldn't do it. All of this felt like it was crossing some line, but Mac didn't want it to stop. “Please, Den,” Mac said, and he imagined that all of this was normal, all of this was fine. “Please, I want—I want you to touch me. I wanna cum. I always—I always cum better when it's you. When you're the one touching me.”
Dennis smiled at him. “I know, baby. You're all mine, right? Only me?”
Mac whined. “Yes,” he said, and it felt too earnest coming out of his mouth. “Just you, Dennis. Only for you.” Mac closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Dennis like this. It all felt like too much.
Dennis moaned. “You can—You can grind on my foot if you want,” he said. “If you're so desperate for my touch, for something to get you off.”
Mac was all too eager to take him up on the offer, immediately moving forward. “But you'll still—Can you still touch me?” he asked, and it felt so fucking desperate. Mac hated it.
Dennis’ hand slid through Mac’s hair. “Of course. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that, Mac. You just gotta hold out for me, okay? Keep—Keep talking, tell me what you want from me. If you're good enough, I'll let you cum after me.”
And that was enough for Mac, enough reassurance. They were already at the point of no return, Mac might as well go all in. “Love how you touch me,” Mac said. “You touch me so good, love your hand on my dick. It's- It’s better than me, better than when I jerk off.”
“Fuck, I know, Mac.” Dennis’ leg was shaking a little as Mac let his hips move against it, desperate for whatever friction he could get. He knew Dennis was close, knew Dennis loved when Mac talked during all of this.
They didn't do this often. When they did, Mac almost always insisted on hands remaining to themselves. Even when Dennis would reach over and jerk Mac off, Mac rarely reciprocated. But there was something about Dennis’ hand on Mac’s dick that Mac couldn't deny. Every time they did this, Mac told himself he wouldn't let it happen again, but it was only a matter of time. Dennis knew that. Of course Dennis knew that.
“Love when you touch me. Love—I love touching you, too,” Mac said. His head was swarming and all he could think about was Dennis’ moaning and the feel of Dennis’ foot against Mac’s dick. “Want you every night, Den. Love when you touch my dick, love when you kiss me. Love how you sound, fuck, so pretty, always so pretty. Dennis, I—please, please, Dennis, cum. Cum and then touch me, I want it, I want you, please—”
Dennis used his grip on Mac's hair to pull his face back just in time for Dennis to cum. He came all over Mac's face, hitting his forehead, his cheeks, his mouth. Mac tried to hold it back, but he moaned. It all felt like too much and panic was rising in his chest, but it wasn't nearly enough for Mac to be satisfied. He wanted more, he needed it, but he also felt like he was falling apart from all of it.
Dennis got on his knees and kissed Mac. “So good,” he muttered against his mouth. His hands were quick in undoing Mac’s pants and pulling out his dick, stroking him quickly. Mac moaned, already so close to the edge. “So good for me, baby boy, fuck, always so good.” Dennis used his thumb to wipe away the cum on Mac’s face, and Mac was grateful for it, except Dennis’ thumb was pushing at his mouth again and—
“Please,” Dennis said. And Mac was gone. He always was. He would always do it for Dennis. So he resigned, let his mouth open and let Dennis push his cum into his mouth. Mac closed his eyes and tried to swallow it down as fast as possible, licking Dennis’ thumb clean. It was salty and bitter and Mac didn't quite enjoy it, wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
Dennis’ thumb stroked over the head of Mac’s dick and Mac was pretty sure he was going to cry. It was all bubbling up inside him and he just needed to cum, he needed more of Dennis everywhere, he needed whatever he could get. “Please,” he whined. “Dennis, Den, please, please can I cum?”
Dennis smiled. “Of course. So good for me, Mac, cum for me.”
So Mac did. Mac kissed Dennis like his life depended on it and Dennis stroked him through the orgasm.
When Mac pulled away from the kiss, he rested his head on Dennis’ shoulder and just let it sit there. For a second, it was enough. All of it was enough. Dennis’ body against his, their heavy breathing in sync. It was enough.
And then Dennis pulled away. He pulled away gently, unlike some other nights. He went to the bathroom and Mac heard the sink on. Mac didn't move. He knew he needed to at some point, but he didn't know what to do.
When Dennis came back out of the bathroom, Mac couldn't look him in the eyes. “Uh. You can have the first shower tonight,” Dennis offered. “If you want.” He shrugged like it was nothing. He shrugged like this was normal, like they were normal. He shrugged like they weren't both destined to go to hell for all of the sins they've committed.
Mac nodded. Cleared his throat. “Sure. Thanks.” He pulled his pants back up and went to the bathroom. He felt like he was drowning. He got in the shower.
His heart felt a bit empty in a way he couldn't describe. He felt like something was missing.
The rest of the night was fuzzy. Mac felt like he was outside of his body, watching some poor sad sack clean cum off of himself. He crawled into bed and felt cold. He may have cried. He didn't know.
When Mac went to confession later, he didn't mention Dennis. He couldn't. But he added on a few extra sins at the end that he hadn't committed in hopes that it would even out.
If Mac went to hell, it would be because of Dennis fucking Reynolds.