#on god mac is gonna make dennis scrub a toilet

[honeyandvinegar]

Take One Breath

Pairing: Macdennis

Words: 1582 Words

Summary: Even though Dennis would rather claw his own eyes out than admit it, sometimes everything just became too- too much. The numb ache would turn to a throbbing, pounding in his scull and he just couldn’t cope with every living, breathing thing hovering over top him. It’s, it's okay though. Mac would somehow always be there to pick him back up and pull him from the recesses of his haunted mind. Even with every dark shadow threatening to close in around him, as long as he has Mac then he's fine.

Warning: Self harm

Author’s Note: Hi, this is my first time writing for Macdennis or in the IASIP fandom, so I hope you like it! (Also I wrote this after I dissociated and it was surprisingly inspirational? Haha, anyway enjoy :D) P.S. The summary is shit, but I promise the story is much better!

Opening the door to his and Dennis's apartment, Mac is expecting it to be like any other Saturday night. That is definitely a mistake on his part. He should've remembered that things are always unpredictable when it comes to the gang, when it comes to Dennis.

The first thing that throws him off is the bottle of Gin and the turned over glass on the coffee table. The contents that had been left inside of the glass now cover it. The bottle is still pretty full though, so Dennis can’t be drunk yet. Mac's brows furrow and he heads towards the other man's bedroom.

He is just passing the bathroom when a noise from inside makes him pause. Mac's heart rate increases from the familiar sounds of harsh, cut off sobbing from inside. He doesn’t even think twice before pushing the door open.

What he comes upon is something he is not unused to seeing. Dennis looking up at him with eyes barely focused, almost unseeing. His arms are bloody from the razor still clutched in his hand. Tears stream from his eyes, causing his makeup to run. Dennis doesn’t seem to take notice of any of it though.

Mac's heart clenches at the sight, so he does the only thing he can and immediately jumps into action. "Everything's gonna be okay." He's muttering, to Dennis, to himself as he kneels down beside the other man, taking the razor and dropping it to the floor beside them.

He sounds like he's trying to stitch back together the fragile peace they've managed to coexist around in and out of their whole lives. Like maybe if he keeps saying these reaffirming words enough times then Dennis will actually start to believe him. His voice is mixing with the sound of his labored breath as he wipes at the blood streaking across Dennis's skin, maybe more harshly than is warranted but he's so caught up in how and why and I'm right here, I'm right here that he doesn't really register it. Just wipes and holds, keeping the pressure on. It's not deep enough to do any serious damage, not this time at least. But in Mac's mind is always what about next time, and he doesn't really have an answer to that, not when he looks up and sees the shadows dancing across his friend's pale face.

So because he's Mac and Dennis is Dennis, he does what he always does. He's the protector after all, of Paddy's Pub, of the gang, of Dennis. He grabs the bandages from their first aid kit and slowly begins to wrap them around the torn flesh of Dennis's arms, first one and then the other. Dennis watches him the whole time, not uttering a word. He's usually quiet after moments like these, reveling in the way Mac's hands have gone gentle as he seems to resign himself to his task with almost methodical precision. It's a word one wouldn't normally think of when they pictured the overbearing, muscle-bound Jesus freak, which perhaps makes it resonate all the more with Dennis. After all, he's only like this when he's close to breaking too. Something about it seems almost divine, otherworldly.

Mac finishes up, then wraps a hand around Dennis's wrist. Just the right amount of pressure, loose enough for Dennis to break away from if he chooses. He won't, not this time. Their eyes catch on each others' for the first time since Mac got home to find him this way. Mac raises one arm, bandage soaked through with blood and kisses right at the pulse point, eyes never leave Dennis's own. It's a few seconds before time seems to start moving again and Mac lowers the wrist.

"Come on, let's get you to bed, man." He rises to his feet and when Dennis is slow to respond, Mac brushes a hand through his messy curls. "Den?"

He knows through years of the same routine to be gentle, yet persistent when it comes to this side of Dennis. He coaxes him into a standing position and curls his arm around the other man's waist.

They step out of the bathroom and forgo Dennis's room, heading instead to Mac's. He doesn't even have to ask anymore, just knows on bad days, bad nights, that this is where they will go. Dennis won't say it out loud, but he hates to be alone, and Mac will whisper over and over again that he prefers not to leave him in that state anyway, anything to comfort him, make the distance between them feel less small. Mac leads Dennis to the bed, the left side of course. He sits him down and brushes hands across his cheeks, almost reverently, then begins to undress him. Dennis told him once that during these times, he hated the sensations of the fabric rubbing against his skin. It was too much, too loud, suffocating and harsh.

Mac undoes the buttons of his shirt and whispers soothing words to help calm and reassure Dennis, just as much as himself. "Here, hold your arm out." He unfolds the sleeves where they're pushed up. "It's just like any other day, Den." Presses a kiss against his forehead. "Tomorrow's another one, huh?" Slides his shirt off his shoulders and throws it in a corner of his room to be a reminder for another day. "God, I love you." His words are whispers, prayers on his lips for safety and protection for this man, for the only person he's ever been in love with. Mac lies him down against the pillows, pops the button on his jeans, unzips them and tugs them down until they're off and discarded near the pile.

Dennis always seems so much smaller, ribs poking through and collar bones jutting out more noticeably, after he's had a breakdown. Even if he's been eating like he should, like Mac tries to make him. It's no secret that Dennis does not do vulnerable. But if he's going to have a moment, Mac is the only one he'd want to be around to patch him back up and stick together the broken pieces of his fractured self anyway.

Dennis is getting tired, Mac can see it in the way his eyelids start to droop and knows it by how he's starting to tug at his hands, like he's trying to pull him down with him. Pull him down into his frenzied whirlwind of helicopter emotions, chaotic fits of rage, and never-ending cycle of psychosis. Too late. Mac's been right there with him since they met that day standing under the bleachers, a scrawny tattle tale always trying to be more bigger than he was and a haughty rich kid with too many secrets, both always hiding behind words of insincerity and smiles just a little too wide, a little too crooked to be honest.

Mac unlaces Dennis's shoes, pulls them off, thinking to throw them in the pile before stopping. Sets them beside the bedside table instead. He doesn't want to make any unnecessary noises that will put a strain on Dennis, only wants to ease his burden at this time in whatever way he can. When he brushes his hand against an ankle, set on removing his socks, he's stopped by a soft murmur from the other man. His eyes scan up immediately, assessing any level of danger. That's his job after all.

"Hey, hey. What is it, man? Everything okay? Can I get you anything?" His hands grab Dennis's in an unconscious move. "What can I do?" It's asked softly, tenderly. Dennis almost can't take it, almost can't keep looking into Mac's eyes, but he can't look away.

"I said-", he pauses, working through some emotion. "com-get over here."

Well, that's that. Mac squeezes the hands he's latched onto and then makes quick work of ridding Dennis of his socks. Into the pile they go. He's much less careful about shedding his own clothes and makes quick work of adding them to Dennis's. The moment he's in the bed, Dennis curls into the warmth at his side, hesitatingly wrapping around his waist. They never talk about the intimacy of this, the two of them wrapped up in one another, skin on skin, but there's no denying they both need this, like a lifeline, like a last breath, they can't do without.

Later, when Dennis has rested and Mac is sure it's safe to leave him in a room by himself, he will come back into the bathroom, look in the mirror at his haggard state, brush a hand over his face, take one, two, three deep breaths, and then rid the room of any remnants of what happened hours prior. See the bloodied, wet rag, and think that needs to be washed. Pick it up, and throw it in the toilet trash bin instead. Kneel on the floor to retrieve the forgotten razor, starting to crust over with dried blood. He'll throw it in the trash bin and immediately afterward, release a dry heave into the toilet until his stomach is cleaned out, leaving him shaking with the feeling of being empty and yet too full. He'll throw some water on his face cause that always helps people on the movies, doesn't it? Brush his teeth for good measure. And then he'll scrub. He'll scrub the surfaces of the bathroom so hard, over and over, until he's sure there's no trace of what happened. Until the next time. 

#iasip #macdennis #it's always sunny in philadelphia #its always sunny in philadelphia #mac x dennis #mac and dennis #my fics #my stuff #macdennis fics #iasip fics