#burning up. with the radiator blasting heat and two blankets and everything and shivering

[bredforloyalty]

it was like i was a comet.. (or 'meteor' ig since they're quite different but i distinctly remember thinking comet lol)

[alwayssunnyprompts]

Prompt - Feverish Dennis HAS to sleep next to Mac, no questions asked.

It’s been a little while, but I love this prompt, keep them coming, guys! Enjoy fussy, feverish Dennis and accommodating Mac! 

Rain pounds a soothing pattern of drumming on the roof of their apartment building, and dull light filters in through open blinds, bathing the room in a silvery glow.

Mac has always had a complicated relationship with the rain. He appreciates the calm it brings, the novelty of a nice day in, but being cooped up too long makes him restless, and gray skies sometimes make him sad. He isn’t quite sure why, but loneliness always seems worse when it’s raining.

Not today, though.

He’s sharing the couch with Dennis, each of them situated on an end, leaving a couple buffer cushions between them. It’s quiet, but there’s no pressure to talk—they simply spend the afternoon enjoying each other’s company. 

It’s rare they get a moment to breathe with each other like this. Dennis doesn’t exactly make an effort to be alone with Mac often at all, and Mac feels his heart sink a little at the thought of Dennis brushing him off. He doesn’t know what’s changed between them, but he wishes desperately that they could regain whatever it is they’ve lost. He aches for Dennis’s closeness, not just physically. He needs somewhere to funnel his emotions, his need to nurture and protect. But the more he reaches out, the further Dennis pulls away.

He lets his eyes wander over to Dennis, curled on his side, pressed into the corner of the couch. His clothes are thick and warm and not at all stylish, and his hair is free of product. Warmth spreads through Mac’s chest as he views this softer side of Dennis that most people don’t get to see, but he shares with Mac willingly and, sometimes, happily.

Mac knows that he prefers the feeling of certain fabrics over others, that he’s specific about textures and thickness and warmth of his clothes. That on a bad day when he’s irritable and uncomfortable and overwhelmed all his wants is to be beneath the comforting weight of blankets, warm and safe and close to Mac.

It seems like Dennis is always cold and in some state of discomfort, but Mac loves him all the same.

Mac sees him shift slightly, resting heavily on the arm of the couch. He breathes in, soft and measured and deeper than usual. His eyes are closed, and his hair is slightly damp, a few loose waves falling onto his forehead. Pink colors his cheeks and nose. Dennis always looks so calm while he sleeps, lines of stress and worry smoothing so that he looks young and sad. He shifts again, shivering. Mac frowns slightly, stands up and rests a feather-light touch against the side of his face. He’s just warm enough to keep an eye on.

“Den?” He keeps his voice gentle.

Dennis’s eyes slide open slowly, sleep-filled and bloodshot. He looks confused.

“Mac?” his voice is rough and quiet. “What’s wrong? Everything okay?”

Mac laughs and sits back down.

“Everything but you, dude. You’re warm, are you feeling alright?”

“Don’t need you to baby me, Mac,” his eyes start sliding shut again.

Mac runs a hand down his cheek.

“Hey, I know. I just want to know how you’re feeling, okay?”

Dennis is the most stubborn person Mac’s ever met when it comes to feeling sick. In fact, Mac’s pretty sure he’d die before admitting there was something seriously wrong with him. But Mac has known him long enough to know that he has a low tolerance for illnesses and can hardly cope with feeling sick at all once he allows himself to accept it. He knows that he craves comfort and intimacy. He never likes to have Mac more than a few feet away, and Mac loves it more than almost anything else in the world.

Dennis’s expression scrunches up as he groans in annoyance.

“Like shit, Mac. Is that what you want to hear?”

Mac frowns, irritation building in his chest.

“Dude, of course I don’t want you to feel sick. But telling me means that you can get better quicker, so what’s wrong?”

“Mac, I—I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…yeah, my head is killing me. My body hurts, I’m just sitting here sweating with the AC on full blast. But it’s just…on top of everything else, it’s too much.”

Dennis is staring at the floor, a hand picking repetitively at a frayed string on the seam of the couch. The other is gripping his leg, knuckles whitening, like his life depends on it.

“What else?” Mac has learned that the best way to get Dennis to talk about his feelings is to let him do most of the talking. He doesn’t push as much as he used to, lets Dennis guide the conversation.

“It’s just a bad day.” He finishes, letting out a quick, heavy sigh. His hand picks more aggressively at the string as he tries to control his breathing.

“Okay,” Mac says quietly, knowing he has to accept that answer for now, “what can I do?”

Dennis doesn’t answer for a long time. Mac watches him intently as he thinks, clenching his jaw, taking deep breaths, all the while picking a hole in their couch. His movements are restrained and tight, and Mac can hear him struggling to maintain even breathing. The blue of his eyes stands in contrast of the veins surrounding them, the dark shadows underneath that make him look gaunt and skeletal.

“Mac, I just want to sleep—”

Mac cuts him off.

“Okay, no problem. Want me to get the weighted blanket for your bed?”

“N-no, I want…um. Can I sleep out here?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t you be able to, dude?” Mac keeps his voice level and reassuring.

“Next to you?”

Mac feels his heartbeat in his throat. Sweat springs up on his forehead, and he is suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings. Dennis is looking at him now, maintaining a mostly neutral expression, but his eyes are begging.

“Please, Mac,” he whispers.

Mac forces himself off the ledge and clears his throat, the warmth spreading through his chest alleviating some of the anxiety.

“Of course, Den.”

There’s something in his voice, an edge, some indistinguishable emotion.

The relief in the room is palpable. Some of the tension dissipates, and Dennis finally detaches himself from the couch string, taking a deep breath that ends in him coughing a little. He brings a hand up to cradle his head, closing his eyes briefly.

“Want some medicine first?”

“Took some earlier,” he murmurs, “still hasn’t kicked in.”

He sits like that for a few more minutes before grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and leaning towards Mac, draping himself heavily across his lap. He wraps one arm around his back, and lets the other fall in front of him, pressing his face into Mac’s middle, hugging him tightly.

Mac swallows, his throat dry and his heart racing at the sudden closeness. He reaches down and rests his hand in Dennis’s hair, massaging gently. Dennis moans quietly.

“Helping?” Mac asks.

“Mhmm,” Dennis answers, and Mac can feel his lips moving against his shirt. Heat rises in Mac’s cheeks.

He keeps massaging, even as Dennis shifts so that he’s just laying across Mac’s lap, curled as close to him as he can be. He keeps a hand tightly clutching the hem of Mac’s t-shirt and presses closer against him.

Mac can feel the heat of Dennis’s fever rising, even through the medicine. He’s burning up. When he opens his eyes, he stares up at Mac silently, his eyes glassy.

“Hey Dennis, I’m gonna go get you some water, okay? You feel really warm.” A little bit of an understatement, but he doesn’t want to say anything alarming.

“No, don’t move, I don’t want—” he sounds odd. Mac can tell he’s trying to keep his voice level, but it isn’t working. He looks and sounds like a feverish, panicked mess.

“Den, you need water.” As Mac makes to move slowly off the couch, Dennis grips his shirt tighter.

“Please, please,” Dennis sounds a little more frantic, shifts slowly upward so that he’s practically sitting in Mac’s lap, his arms looped behind Mac’s neck.

Unbelievable.

“Fine, I’ll get it later.” Mac says, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. 

He wants Dennis to feel safe, but he’s more concerned about Dennis getting dehydrated. “But you have to promise that you’ll let me get up and get it, okay?”

“Okay,” Dennis concedes. He rests his head on Mac’s shoulder, letting go of his neck but renewing his grip on his t-shirt.

Mac can feel himself starting to sweat as the heat from Dennis’s fever radiates through his body.

“Mac,” he moans quietly, “I’m cold.”

His breath hitches and Mac can feel him trembling. He grabs the blanket Dennis left on the couch and drapes it over the two of them, rubs his hands over Dennis’s arms, hoping the friction will warm him up quicker. He seems like he’s calming down, his shaking lessening, and his face is less pinched as his body sags against Mac’s.

“Try to sleep, Den.”

“Okay, Mac,” he lets his eyes slide shut, “Don’t go, though,” he murmurs.

“Dennis you’re on top of me, I couldn’t go if I wanted to.”

Dennis shoots him a concerned look.

“But I don’t want to,” Mac amends quickly, “I’m just saying I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“‘Kay.”