Macdennis 77
Thank you, I hope you like it! It’s set after “Mac and Charlie Die, Pt.2”
77.) “I hate hospitals.“
Dennis is already rolling his eyes when Charlie, Mac, and Dee come running out from the back office, holding sparklers and acting like it’s a shock to anyone that they’re alive. He can’t believe that he spent more than 30 seconds thinking they were dead; he makes a mental note to shove down the thought if there’s ever another situation like this. Apparently, idiocy can’t be killed. He vaguely observes that, wearing her stupid shorts, Dee looks even more gangly than she usually does. He glances over at Mac, a wave of anxiety washing through his chest.
Mac looks terrible. He has two black eyes, cuts on his face, bruising around his nose and ears. He tries to play off the shock, pushing down the worry until he can get Mac alone and really go off on him about how stupid he’s been. He’s buzzing with anticipation the rest of the conversation, until the excitement finally dies down and the rest of the gang heads home for the day. Mac is sitting at the bar, his chin resting in his hand, staring at nothing. He looks completely spaced out. Dennis walks behind the bar slowly, trying not to startle him.
“Mac?”
Mac, as far as Dennis can tell, doesn’t respond at all. Dennis frowns, reaches over and lays a hand on Mac’s shoulder. He jumps a little at the contact, blinking and looking like he’d just noticed Dennis was there.
“Huh? Did you say something, Dennis?”
He still looks…off. He’s staring in Dennis’s general direction, but it’s like he’s looking right through him. He looks dazed.
“Yeah, Mac…are you okay, buddy? You seem a little…” he can’t think of the word, but he doesn’t have to, because Mac interrupts him.
“I feel kinda weird, dude,” he says slowly. He’s pale, his face scrunched up in expression of pain that Dennis would have laughed at if he wasn’t so worried.
“Weird, how, Mac? Be specific.” He takes deep breaths, attempts to even out his heart rate. This all seems wrong.
“I don’t know…where’s Charlie?”
“Charlie left, like, an hour ago, Mac. You were here. You said goodbye to him. And then Frank, and then Dee. Do you not remember?”
He looks upset now, the frustration evident in his eyes.
“Do you think I’d be asking if I remembered, Dennis?”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, buddy. Just…” he takes a deep breath,“just try and focus on telling me what’s wrong.”
Mac barely nods, runs his hands over his face. He looks ill, the bruising around his eyes stands out against sallow skin.
“Um…my head hurts. Like, really bad. And you look weird. Kinda spinny or something…I think it’s because of the headache. Also everything feels kinda…floaty?” He’s concentrating hard, Dennis can tell. He makes a little choked noise and rests his head in his hands.
Dennis feels the pounding in his chest again. He walks so he’s standing right next to Mac, rests a hand on the back of his head, lightly enough that he’s just barely feeling Mac’s hair.
“Buddy? Look at me for a second.”
He does. Still looks dazed and unfocused, but he’s trying to look Dennis in the eyes.
“Dennis…” he moans quietly, squinting like the dim lights in the bar are somehow too bright, “I feel sick.”
Goddamnit. He rests a hand against Mac’s forehead like a visor, shielding him from the light. He can tell Mac’s panicking, his breathing fast and shallow.
“Sh, sh, it’s okay. I think we should go to the hospital.” He’s stroking Mac’s face gently with his free hand while he checks his injuries.
“What? Why? Dennis, I don’t want to,” he sounds stubborn and desperate and Dennis wishes with all of his heart that they didn’t have to. But he’s pretty sure Mac has a bad concussion, and he’s not going to take him home without making sure he’s going to be alright. He can’t take that chance.
Dennis leads Mac to his car, making sure he guides him gently into the passenger seat, tries to buckle his seatbelt before Mac notices and all but rips it out of his hand, cheeks flushing pink as he does it himself.
Of course the traffic is terrible. It takes everything Dennis has to stop himself from yelling at some idiot that cuts him off. The only feeling stronger than rage is the one telling him that if he yells, he’ll hurt Mac’s head even more. And that is unacceptable, so he sighs and lets the asshole go.
The hospital is gray and sterile and disgustingly dreary. He’s sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. Mac is leaning against his shoulder, trying to hide his face.
“Can’t we just go home? I want to go home. I want to sleep.” He’s pleading, his voice wobbling as he takes a quick breath.
He wraps an arm around Mac, rubs his back rhythmically.
“I know, baby boy, I know,” he soothes.
“Dennis?”
“What is it?”
“I’m scared.” He sounds so different from the way he usually does. The confidence and inflated sense of self-righteousness are gone, replaced with nervousness and uncertainty. It touches Dennis’s heart. He holds Mac tighter.
“It’s okay. Nothing to be scared about. How about after this we pick up a movie?” He tries not to let the stress he’s feeling seep into his voice.
Mac doesn’t seem convinced. His eyebrows are still furrowed, face is still scrunched up.
“Hospitals are stupid, Dennis.”
Despite himself, Dennis chuckles a little bit.
“Not really, buddy. I mean sure, there’s plenty of room for stupidity, but they really aren’t all that bad.”
“I hate them.”
He sounds so defeated. Dennis lets the joking edge leave his voice.
“Mac, I’m sorry. But we’re already here and I’d feel much better if you let a doctor check you. Just…do it for me, okay?”
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
He sighs.
“Okay, fine.”
“Can we sleep together this time?”
“Yeah…sure, Mac.” He agrees quietly, not embarrassed, but not quite willing to let the idiots sitting around them hear their personal business.
Mac smiles a little.
“I guess I’ll stay and get examined,” he says, only a hint of resignation in his voice.
“Good.”
He removes his arm from around Mac’s shoulders and lets it fall into his lap. After a few minutes, he reaches over, carefully wrapping Mac’s hand in his own.
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