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glennjaminhow · 6 days

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How about a hurt/comfort fic where Luther gets out of prison and beats Mac up and Mac takes the bus to PennU and shows up on Dennis’ doorstep all sad and upset and in need of love 👀

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it!

April 24, 1996

Mac is half asleep when he hears the front door unlock.

He’s lounging in bed, a box fan pointed at his feet and an ashtray balanced on his chest. The mattress is bare except for the blanket he stole from Dennis before he left for UPenn. It’s soft and blue like Dennis’ eyes, and, if Mac focuses enough, he can still smell Dennis’ fancy cologne nestled in the fabric. A mostly smoked joint smolders between his lips as he stares up at the water-stained ceiling, an arm folded beneath his head. His only plan today is to get stoned out of his mind. It’s his day off from the construction site, and his whole body fucking hurts. It doesn’t help that he works six days a week – at least twelve hour days each – so he can keep up with all the bills, especially since Mom quit Jiffy Lube.

He just wants to spend the day at home in bed gorging himself on weed and, eventually, pizza.

But that doesn’t happen.

One second Mac is taking a hit, perfectly comfortable and wrapped in Dennis’ blanket. The next second he’s yanked out of bed so hard his brain spins. Stomach swimming near his toes, he inhales sharply and immediately notices who’s standing in front of him.

“Dad? What are you doing he–”

But he doesn’t get to finish the question.

Dad’s fist collides with his mouth, sucker punching the shit out of him. Mac stumbles back, bracing himself against the wall, panting. He shakes his head and tries to talk, tries to reason with this giant anger ball in front of him, but he can’t speak. It’s like his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, and words just won’t come out. Dad gets closer and closer, until he’s breathing down Mac’s neck. His heart pounds, and his lips tremble, but he doesn’t make any movements. Maybe if he stays silent and still – the way his parents prefer him to be – then Dad will leave him alone.

“Son,” his dad starts, voice dangerously even and callous. “What the fuck did you do?”

Mac’s teeth chatter. He wavers uncertainly his spot. Dad must notice because he immediately puts his rough hands on his shoulders, rooting his socked feet further into the floor. Tears swell in his eyes, and he tries to blink them away, but he fails, and they stream over his cheeks, mixing with the blood coating his chin. But he doesn’t move. He can’t move. Crying isn’t his normal response when his dad – unexpectedly or not – acts like this, but it was a surprise, and Mac was half asleep, and he doesn’t need – doesn’t want – his dad to know that he scared him.

He's such a fucking baby. No wonder his parents hate him.

So why does he try so hard to please them?

“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with you?” his dad asks.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks down at the ground and sniffles, wiping at his face and chin.

And of course he doesn’t say anything when Dad’s fist smashes into his stomach, causing him to double over and spit up blood on the tattered carpet. Dad forces him to stand upright, grabbing his cheek with is rough hand and pressing the back of his head against the wall.

“I asked you a question.”

Mac’s lips quiver. “I-I… I don’t know wh-what’s wrong with me…”

“No. Not that, you little shit,” Dad says. “You ratted me out, didn’t you?”

Mac’s eyes widen. He instantly shakes his head once, twice, three times. “I would n-never do that!”

Dad squeezes his neck and cheek harder, fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to leave bruises. “But you did.”

“No, I didn’t! I swear!”

“Tell me the truth, son.”

Dad inches closer. They’re breathing the same air. Only Mac isn’t just breathing; he’s close to hyperventilating. He doesn’t like being closed in, and he doesn’t like being manhandled, and he doesn’t like how horrifying his dad is being right now. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything wrong. All he does is go to work, come home, and visit Dennis on his day off during the week. He barely speaks to Mom, and all she does is grunt in response when he does try to tell her something. This is the first time he’s seen his dad in over a year since his most recent parole violation that landed him back in prison.

“I swear. I didn’t do anything.”

There’s another blow to his stomach. Dad lets go and pushes him to the floor. Mac listens to his bootheels click as he walks away, waiting until he hears the front door slam shut before he starts coughing. Only there isn’t enough oxygen in the room for him now, and he curls up in a ball on the carpet, protectively holding his abdomen and fighting through tears. He has literally no idea what just happened, but it doesn’t take a rocket genius to know that his dad hates him and thinks he betrayed him, only he would never do that to his father. Knows how serious and important his business is, whether he’s in jail or not.

He lays on the floor for what feels like an eternity, poking at his stomach and busted lip. He is trying really hard to do that thing that Dennis does all the time, where he turns off his emotions and lets himself just exist. Only he doesn’t feel like existing right now, not really. The room feels hazy, and he feels numb, yet wants to bawl his eyes out, and he doesn’t understand where any of this came from or why his father hates his freaking guts. He’s never done anything other than try to be a good son, but he knows he sucks. Until he ratted out all the drug dealers in school, he couldn’t sell even a fourth of his weekly supply on his own. Yeah. That’s probably why Dad hates him. He’s useless.

That’s okay. It’s okay. He’s okay.

He’s okay there’s just something obviously wrong with him he can’t get his parents to love him even though he pays all the bills and cooks Mom dinner every night and does all the laundry and always makes sure there’s food in the house and cleans up after himself and is super duper quiet when he walks to the bathroom or kitchen and most of all he’s tried to tell them that he loves them that he wants to be around them and be a normal family but there’s nothing normal about what just happened and he knows that he knows that so why’s he still trying and why does it hurt so much he only wants to be a good son but he can’t ever do anything right and no one else in the world cares about him except Dennis and Charlie and maybe that bird Dee but they’re not here and he’s alone and Charlie is working at a diner as a janitor and Dee and Dennis are at school Dennis he misses Dennis Dennis always knows how to keep him calm and –

Dennis.

Mac wipes his eyes and tries to control his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Steady. It’s about precision, Dennis says. He has to be steady with his emotions.

He misses Dennis.

And even though he just saw the dude last week, the closest he feels to God is when he’s with Dennis.

Mac sits up. He winces at the uncomfortable twinge in his stomach and hiccups when he feels a slight bulge where his ribs are supposed to be securely in place. Okay. Not the best sign. But he’ll be okay. He can power through this. Dad didn’t mean to hurt him. He lost control a little bit, and Mac was in the way, as usual. You know what? He’ll apologize the next time he sees him. Yeah. He’ll say he’s sorry, and Dad will hug him and tell him it’s okay, and they’ll be father and son again. Maybe then they can go to the park and have a catch.

He pulls himself up, standing on a shaky legs and gripping his right side, where the bulge moves with each breath. He slides his feet into worn boots, grabs his wallet and keys, and sucks in a deep breath.

Outside, the sun is shining high in the sky. He breathes in the smell of freshly cut grass. He loves springtime, even if it does make Dennis’ allergies go totally insane. He loves how alive the earth feels. Maybe he can salvage today.

Maybe.

Mac walks to the bus stop and stands with his arms crossed, hand holding his side in place.

It takes fifteen minutes for the bus to come. By the time he gets on, sweat is beading on his temple and dripping from his hairline. The rest of his body feels like it’s slowly shutting down. He didn’t get home until six this morning, having got to work at noon the day before. He trudges to an open seat, watching as people stare at him like he’s a ghost or a demon dog or something. It’s probably his busted lip that they’re looking at. Or the dried blood on his chin. Either way, it’s pointless to stare.

“Mind your own business, bozos,” Mac mutters, nestling himself into a window seat.

The ride to UPenn typically doesn’t take long. It’s only, like, ten stops away. But today for some reason it takes forever, and Mac is so tired, and now his lip is starting to throb along with his side, where something is definitely dislocated. He sniffles and lays his head on the cool glass, letting his eyes flutter open and closed for what feels like an eternity.

Somehow he doesn’t miss his stop, which he’s grateful for. He can’t imagine turning around and going back home now.

The looming UPenn buildings look even more bigger than usual. Or maybe it’s just that he feels more smaller. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that Dennis understands how to make him feel better. Whenever he needs to escape, whenever he needs to get away from everything for a little while, he knows he can always go to Dennis, and he’ll be there. He’ll be there like he was when they shared blunts and cigarettes under the bleachers every single morning, lunch, and afternoon. He misses Dennis. He can’t wait for him to come home for the summer.

Mac ducks his head and trudges to Dennis’ dorm, narrowly avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

It’s 12:53 PM on a Wednesday, not his usual Saturday morning visit, when he knocks on the door to room 237.

The moment Dennis opens the door, Mac bursts into tears, hiding his face in his palms.

“What the hell happened to you?” Dennis asks.

Only his voice isn’t rough and oozing irritation – anger – like his dad’s.

No, Dennis’ voice is concerned and a little frantic.

Dennis ushers him inside, and Mac has never been more grateful for Dennis’ single suite than he is right now. Dennis guides Mac to his bed, and Mac hisses the moment he sits down, dropping his hands from his face in favor of grabbing his side instead. This makes the tears fall faster and harder, until he is fully sobbing. He pretends not to melt when he feels Dennis pull him close, allowing Mac to hide his snotty face in his neck. Mac hiccups and breathes in the smell of cinnamon and vanilla and Dennis.

And he could stay like this for the rest of his life.

If only his life were as simple as Dennis holding him.

“What happened?” Dennis whispers.

Mac splutters against warm skin. “H-He hates me…” he whispers.

“Who?”

“My d-dad.”

“Your dad? Is he the one who did this to you?”

Mac nods.

“He’s out of prison?”

Mac shrugs.

He hears Dennis sigh. “I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.”

Mac wants to laugh. Wants to throw his head back and cackle, but he doesn’t. Can’t. Isn’t sure he has the energy. But he does find it endearing – and sweet – that Dennis wants to take on his dad in a fight. Dennis may be a whole inch taller than him, but he’s half a foot shorter than his dad. Not to mention that Dennis is teeny tiny and his dad is crazy jacked.

“Are you okay?"

It’s a question that sucks the air out of his lungs.

Is he okay?

“I…” his voice trails off. He sounds stuffed up. Everything hurts. “I dunno.”

“You need to lay down,” Dennis whispers. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can take a nap.”

Dennis gets to his feet, and Mac finds it hard to untangle himself from the comforting embrace. He lies down on the mattress – filled with all the blankets and pillows in the galaxy – and closes his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Dennis says, voice soft. “Here. Take these.”

He blearily opens his eyes. Sees Dennis standing there with a bottle of water and some pills. It takes all the effort in the world for him to prop up on his elbows. The water is cool on his throat.

“'s it?” he murmurs. He falls back against the pillows, wincing at the throb in his side.

“Tylenol.”

Then there’s something warm and wet dabbing his chin, carefully wiping away the dried blood. Something else touches his lip, and he hisses.

“Neosporin,” Dennis whispers. “Try not to lick it off.”

Mac nods.

And he wonders how he ended up here, being taken care of and feeling… wanted. Loved.

When he’s around Dennis, he can’t help but feel whole, like his place on this earth isn’t dictated by anyone or anything other than the two of them.

Dennis fusses around the dorm room. Mac listens to the pitter patter of his bare feet against the tile floor, half asleep. He hears a fan turn on. Feels it being pointed at him. Feels a comforter being draped over him. Mac nestles in, curling up the best he can.

Feels Dennis settling down beside him on the twin XL bed.

Feels Dennis wrapping an arm around his waist.

Feels Dennis’ warm breath on his neck.

Feels Dennis.

It’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

#macdennis #macdennis fic #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #iasip #iasip fic #its always sunny #it's always sunny in philadelphia

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