#I will come back and do frank becayse I'm zooted and this took me a rlly long time

[haghottie420]

The Gang Has A Chill Time Smoke Sesh

AKA my head-canons for what these assholes do when they’re stoned. Written while stoned (shoutout mental illness for letting me get a medical card😇😇). I’ve been itching to write them in some way and I have way too much adhd to start a whole fic rn. Hope you love reading this little stoned piece as much as I loved writing it!

MAC:

In high school, Mac was fascinated with learning about this cool (and very pretty) curly haired, blue-eyed, kinda buff actually, guy that suddenly wanted to be his friend. Mac wasn’t ignorant to the world as to believe the weed had nothing to do with it, but he always wants to give Dennis the benefit of the doubt. It’s those goddamned blue eyes. One of Mac’s early, sure-fire ways to touch Dennis was brushing their fingers when he’d pass Dennis the joint. Dennis’ hands have always been sturdy with long fingers. Mac would leave little room for Dennis to pluck the joint from between Mac’s sweaty. fingers so that Mac could savor in the feeling of his soft skin.

When Dennis was at Penn, at first, Mac didn’t want to get high without him. It felt like they formed a sacred bond over it and that bond should be respected, you know? Or at least, that’s how he explained it to Charlie the first weekend Dennis didn’t come home and Charlie wanted to smoke.

“Dude,” Charlie says, “please smoke with me. You cannot handle huffing as much glue as me without dying.”

Mac is stung at first. He could huff as much glue as he wants! But a more smarter part of him knows Charlie is just looking out for him. He decides to feel touched instead.

“Bro, you know I love you. I just-”

“Don’t want to smoke without your boyfriend. Blah blah blah.” Charlie says exasperatedly.

“It just doesn’t feel right to do without him.” Mac says quietly, looking at his scuffed up second-hand adidas.

“Look,” Charlie says in exasperation.  “Let’s get this bitch on the phone so we can get stoned, dude.”

Before Mac gets an answer out, Charlie is dialing the phone in Dennis’ dorm room. Dennis picks up after three rings. Mac can hear soft Jazz and a faint slurping sound.

“It’s Dennis,” comes a rough voice on the other end.

“Den? It’s Mac and Charlie.” Mac says, now hearing the music lower and the wet sounds stop.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Dennis sounds like he’s been shouting. “Make it quick because I’m banging a hot chick.” At this, there’s a laugh that doesn’t sound like Dennis. Mac barrels forward. The more fast he can get off this call, the less he has to deal with this sinking feeling in his gut. 

“This is going to sound so silly but can we like, smoke weed when you’re not here?” Charlie is mouthing the word “silly” to himself. 

“Dude, you guys haven’t been smoking without me?! I’m on weed and poppers!” Dennis’ laugh is slightly hysterical but Mac can now chalk it up to the drugs. There’s a sudden static ‘whooshing’ sound, Dennis must have put his hand over the receiver. Mac can faintly hear that voice from before much closer. It doesn’t sound like Dennis is talking to a girl. 

“Look, guys, I gotta go.” Dennis finally says. “I’ll see you guys next weekend. In the meantime please smoke some weed! And save me some!” 

Dennis hangs up before Mac and Charlie can say goodbye. 

Mac and Dennis kiss when they’re stoned, okay?! Jeez, you didn’t have to fight Mac about it so hard to get it out of him. It’s not like he’s trying to hide that it happened he’s just like, trying to get it back now that he’s speaking as a Gay Man. Dennis strictly drinks. Which Mac knows tenses him up and stresses him out. The only darkly funny thing about it is he calls it “Irish Catholic Sober.” Dennis has outright refused weed from Mac lately. Mac decides to pull a solo scheme. A badass genius plan to get Dennis to fall into his beefy arms and blow smoke into his mouth like a sexy evil. dragon.

Mac pulls it off on a Friday night. He left the bar early enough to go home, shower, wax his asshole and prepare himself before Dennis texted to say he’ll be home soon. Mac is splayed on the couch, shorts revealing the shamrock tattoo on his thigh.  His tee shirt, a relic of a Dennis past, is far too tight on his current muscles. Briefly, Mac wonders if he should be worried. Given Dennis’ family history, he stands a chance at having a major heart attack at the sight of Mac’s sexy body. But before Mac can ponder this fear further, the door swings open.

Dennis is mid-rant, now taking it from a whisper to a shout, “Stupid fucking suburban traffic. ‘We can’t go to the Trader Joe’s in Center City, Den! It’s too crowded and I slept with too many guys who work there.’ Stupid Mac and his stupid hot body.”

Mac flushes both defensively and in a horny kind of way.  He clears his throat. Dennis jumps and drops a whole head of lettuce. It rolls in front of him. as his jaw drops, taking in Mac’s whole outfit situation.Then he takes in the whole ‘joint in Mac’s mouth’ situation.

“Dude.” Dennis slams the door behind him. “At least wait until I close the goddamn door!”

When Dennis turns back around, he gestures to Mac still smoking seductively on the couch. “What is this? What kind of scheme are you running, Mac? Trying to make one of your boy-toys jealous?”

Dennis sounds bitter and Mac does not expect this.

“Bro,” Mac says softly, “I’m your boy-toy.”

Dennis looks up sharply, gripping the grocery bag tightly. “Do you mean that?” He drops the bag and crosses the room, taking the joint from Mac’s hand prissily. His inhale is long and desperate. 

“Yes, Den. This is real. And all yours.” Mac wiggles his eyebrows. Dennis snuffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. He leans in before Mac even realizes what’s happening. Their lips touch--Dennis is wearing bubblegum lip-balm today. The kiss is over so suddenly, that Mac almost doesn’t notice that Dennis stole his entire joint hit right from his goddamn mouth.

DENNIS: 

His anxiety PEAKS the first ten minutes into his high but it’s fine! He’s feeling totally fucking chill. His smile is strained?  His red face is flushed? His left leg is BOUNCING w/ anxious energy? You’re imagining it. Dennis is cool as a fucking cucumber. The coolest. Like a cucumber stored in a negative eighty degrees celsius freezer where he’d store lab samples at Penn. Dennis admired how time seemed to just stop there, in that painfully cold freezer. He also admired how it was the best place to stash his weed in a pinch. Helloooo preserved herb! Dennis is as cool as hash frozen at negative eighty degrees celsius. So, every time someone asks if he’s cool (he’s hiding it so fucking well how do these idiots know?!) he immediately says, “yeah, yeah bro. yeah I’m chill. I’m just like...vibes~*” and stares off into the distance until the convo inevitably moves onto sewer pirate treasure or a scheme to get Mac on Queer Eye to upgrade his and Dennis’ apartment. And Frank would say, “why is it when I say it, it’s a ‘slur.’” And Mac would say, “Frank! We talked about this so many goddamn times--” And Dennis would have enough time to gather himself together.

Once his anxiety subsides, he’s totally blissed tf out. Starts becoming WAY chatty, philosophical and flirty. Think, deeply closeted sorority girl constantly trying to suggest spin the bottle at chapter meetings. Or like Needy and Jennifer playing boyfriend/girlfriend. Dennis would just regress to going through rituals with slightly less fanfare as an excuse to touch Mac (and also probs Charlie we’re all multiship friendly). Stoned Dennis is self-aware in ways that Drunk Dennis nor Hungover Dennis could even compete with. It was a time that he let himself have a taste of what he wanted. The flirting would start innocent enough.

“Kings?” Mac asks, puzzled. He’s holding the deck of cards between his thumb and his pointer finger as if the cards might bite him. If Dennis were not absolutely zooted, he might have yelled back impatiently. But here, in his current fuzzy state, Dennis feels he can take his time. He saddles closer to Mac at the bar in one fluid motion, making sure to let their fingers lightly brush as he slips the cards out of Mac’s hand. 

“Kings.” Dennis confirms in Mac’s ear with a hot puff of air. Mac shivers.

“It’s just us though, bro.” He points to the empty bar as if that’s some sort of decent excuse. But Dennis is feeling kind this evening. Magnanimous even. 

“Alright,” Dennis assures softly, keeping his voice a low rumble. After blowing into Mac’s ear, Dennis continues, “I’ll call in Charlie.” In a flash, Dennis is a few barstools over, calling out in his normal speaking tone for Charlie in the back office.

“What is it, man? I’m really busy back here.”

“Mac and I want you to join our game of Kings.”

“Oh, dude. Are you stoned?” Charlie wrinkles his eyes at Dennis as if he can see physical evidence of his inebriation (which he won’t, because Dennis has massive amounts of control over his body). Charlie continues louder now, “Is this one of those games where I have to watch you two make out again? Because I’m really not in the mood.”

If Dennis weren’t in winged sandals flying too close to the sun, he might have buried his head in his hands at Charlie’s bluntness. But Stoned Dennis is elated that Charlie made this game so much easier for him. Getting Mac to fuck him tonight will be so goddamn easy.

“You know what, Mac?” Dennis says, eyes wide. “Charlie’s right. This is going to be a game where we make-out. Wanna go play it at home?”  

DEE:

ALWAYS bums weed from the guys. Because they’re idiots who always have weed. Why the shit wouldn’t she take advantage of that situation. The guys always got real protective over their self-proclaimed ‘stoner status’ and the second Dee claimed they were being uncool, they’d mumble to each other and cough up a nug or two. They never gave her one of Mac’s joints. She tuned out the reason why but it was something along the lines of her being an unappreciative dumb bird. When they get on a roll like that, Dennis especially, she lets them have it. It’s kind of sad that they rely on misogyny to appropriately express their gay ass feelings but Dee grew up with her goddamn mother so she is good at tuning out what she doesn’t want to hear.

All of her angry energy just leaves her body. Her shoulders visibly sag, her jaw unclenches and the line that’s constantly between her eyebrows smooths out. When she sees herself in the mirror, she feels ten years younger. Like maybe she’s looking at a version of herself that could have been different. One that could have succeeded in everything she wanted to be. One that was better. Then, inevitably, Dennis would spy her wistfulness and if he’s in his pre-high anxiety attack, he’ll dig in his sharp little bitch nails. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Sweet Dee?” Dennis says, eyes wide and panicked like a diseased dear trapped in her headlights. Dee wants to laugh so bad, because she can tell Dennis thinks he’s being intimidating but he looks like he’s impatiently waiting for Dee to eat him. When she’s stoned, she likes to prove Dennis right. Because she’s really too mellowed out to start screaming. Plus, her throat is pretty raw. It’s. been a while since she cleaned out her bowl last.

“Thinking a lot about how you eye-fucked Mac’s hands while he was rolling that joint there, little bro.” Dee punctuates her statement with a pull from her bowl. She coughs. Dennis’ face changes from caught to smug. Stupid goddamn dirty bowl.

“I shouldn’t be taking this kind of homophobic talk from a bird who smokes out of a dirty crackpipe” Dee winces at the rise in volume and frequency of Dennis’ voice. 

“I’m not going to do that back and forth shit with you right now, Dennis”

“Then don’t cross me.” Dennis replies sensibly. God he’s such a bitch.

“I’m just saying, you better fuck that beefcake before someone else beats you to it.” Dee flicks the roach at Dennis’ head. Seeing him shoot away fills her with so much satisfaction. Much like a cat that is getting another cat out of a wall, kicking and fucking screaming, but the girl cat will force the boy cat to leave that goddamn wall if her idiot life depends on it. Or not. Dee probably won’t die for this cause. She’s chill. They wouldn’t do that for her. But that doesn’t stop her from continuing to dig into Dennis’ skin, now fully relaxed in her prodding, just to see him squirm. Neither of them will remember this well but Dee will remember enough to keep her in a good mood for a few days. 

Dee doesn’t really talk about this one much. Not because she’s ashamed or because she has something to hide. But because she knows the guys won’t give a shit if she tries to explain it, so she just doesn’t. When they ask about new boyfriends she squawks something they might expect, to get them off her back. Because goddamn the four of them together is like having a bunch of dirty, nasty, mean dads who want to fuck each other. Sort of. Dee doesn’t unpack all of their homoerotic crap in her head, she has better shit to do). It’s the longest secret she’s kept from the gang. The one none of them seem to even recognize in her. Her bitterness over her family’s lack of observational and conversational skills thus fully justify her decision to start fooling around with the Waitress. Dee’s had some FOMO over that one for years. 

CHARLIE:

Without fail every single goddamn time he smokes he immediately pukes. When they were dumb teenagers they’d smoke on Dennis’ trampoline in his backyard, which was cool as fuck because all Charlie had in his yard was a patch of concrete. Whenever the joint (rolled by Mac, always) was passed to him, he’d take a confident inhale, exhale shakily then lean over the edge of the trampoline to throw up. Mac would rub his back in gentle circles and Dennis breezily said he could blame the puke on their newest housekeeper that his dad was banging without quite looking Charlie in the eye. But that’s alright, because Charlie knows what Dennis means.

Now as adults:

“Charlie! Gross, dude! Come on! I thought you grew out of that shit!?” Mac exclaims, shoving his body as far away from Charlie as he can through approximately three barstools and seven empty beer bottles now smashing on the floor. 

Charlie shouts above the destruction, “I’m just getting the toxins out of my system!” At the blank looks he receives from his two best friends, he continues talking completely logically. 

“The weed goes in and sucks up the toxins in my organs and then I puke it out! It just means I have a strong constitution, dude!”

Mac sputters, “A strong constitution?! I’m not the one who throws up every time I smoke! I have a stomach of steel. My constitution is like super hard, bro. It’s only getting harder with age.”

Dennis blows smoke in Mac’s face, “shut up. I’m having a chill time. Anyway, this is why we make Charlie go first, to get that shit over with. Now, disinfect the joint and pass it to me!”

Waxes philosophic about gender theory. Or at least that’s how Dennis explains it gently to Charlie. Because The Bastard Man took one intro to Feminist Studies class that did like three days worth of Gender Theory and Dennis skipped nearly every goddamn one of those classes. So Charlie doesn’t know why Dennis, of all people, thinks he can “break the news gently that Charlie lectured the whole gang about Bells and Hooks and Troubles and Genders when he was really baked.” 

“Dennis,” Charlie says seriously, “did you read the goddamn books.”

Dennis looks around the empty bar self-consciously then whispers, “yes! I don’t know how you read them, you know, considering your illiteracy but I’ve been thinking about them for weeks. Can we please talk more about it?”

Charlie nods sagely, feeling touched that a smart guy like Dennis would want to learn about gender bells and hooks from him.

“If you have some grass then your ass is about to be gendered.”

Dennis appears confused but still enthusiastic. From within his shirt pocket he produces a beautifully rolled joint, “stole this one from Mac, buddy.”

Charlie grabs his puke bucket and leads the way to the back office.