#i honestly edited this so fast before dinner so it's definitely riddled in typos but its what we have

[lesbianfreyja]

Mac dabbed another bit of the sticky eyelash glue he’d found under Dennis’s sink across his cheekbones, glancing up in the mirror to make sure he’d gotten it in a straight line. He hummed, ducking to catch the light and see his face better. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

The front door slammed shut and Mac poked his head out of his room.

“Hey, Dennis,” he called, and ducked back into his bedroom.

Dennis came meandering into his doorway a few moments later. He leaned his hip against the frame, crossing his arms.

“Were you going out without me?”

“Obviously not,” said Mac, rolling his eyes. He picked his jacket up off the dresser in front of him and tossed it at Dennis’s head. Dennis pulled it off his face, giving off token protests. “Get dressed, bitch! We got places to be.”

Dennis didn’t move. He waved his finger in a loose circle in the air, glancing around the room.

“What is this?” he asked lightly. “What is this that we’re listening to?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “It’s my getting ready mix, bro. You know that. I always play it when I get dressed to go out.”

He dabbed some glitter from the squeeze tube onto his finger and dashed it across his cheeks, rubbing it in.

“I wouldn’t know, ‘cause your taste in music is total shit,” said Dennis. “So I always stay in my room listening to something that’s actually good, and then meet you out by the front door.”

Mac waved vaguely at him. “Okay. Bye. See you in fifteen minutes.”

Dennis didn’t move from the doorway. Mac ignored him as he rubbed more glitter into his face, at least until Dennis strode forward and snatched the tube out of his hand. Mac’s fingers drifted in the air around his temple, watching Dennis with his eyebrows raised.

“What are you doing? I need that.”

“Dude, is this what you’re using?” he demanded, brandishing the tube at him. “Mac, seriously?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with it?” he asked, reaching for his glitter back, but Dennis pulled it away from him with a little laugh.

“Mac, baby.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Dude, you cannot just use store-brand glitter on your face. What is this? Is this from Party City? And what are you using to get it to stay on, is that just a stick of Elmer’s or something?”

Mac kicked at the bottom of his dresser, muttering something.

“What?” Dennis implored, leaning closer.

“I said I got it from your bathroom!” Mac snapped, glaring at him.

Dennis snatched the glue up from Mac’s dresser before Mac could slap his palm down over it to hide it. Mac scowled as Dennis peered at the little tube and then looked back up at him with his mouth hung open.

“Is this my eyelash glue?! Bro, this is stuff is expensive!”

Mac snorted. “Dee steals that shit for you from CVS and you know it.”

Dennis scowled.

“Whatever,” he said after a beat, still frowning. “You’re such a dipshit, babe, if you keep smearing stuff that isn’t high quality on your face then you’re going to break out.”

“I don’t break out. I’m in my forties.”

“You have a zit on your cheek right now from smoking so much weed with Charlie lately,” said Dennis, pointing at it until Mac slapped his hand away. “Jesus Christ, I’ll be right back.”

“Dennis, wait — Give me back my stuff!” he called after him. “I need to get dressed!”

Dennis just waved vaguely over his shoulder and disappeared, slipping the eyelash glue and the store-brand glitter into his pocket as he went.

Mac huffed out an irritated breath and went back to picking out shorts to wear. He ended up pulling on a pair that was just the same blue pants he always wore, but cut off a few inches above the knee; it always got hot when they went out because they drank six to ten cocktails and sugary drinks made Dennis want to grind on him.

Dennis reappeared in his doorway, stripped down to a flannel open over his jeans and brandishing a new tube of something sparkly at him.

“Got this,” he said.

Mac inched closer. “What’s that?”

“Body glitter,” said Dennis, setting it down on the dresser. “You know, like you’re supposed to use on your skin. Got this, too, I figured it couldn’t hurt. Come here.”

Mac shuffled in until he was less than a foot away. Dennis grabbed for his bare side to hold him steady, his other hand held aloft and clutching at a damp paper towel.

“Close your eyes,” Dennis murmured.

He wiped the Party City glitter off of Mac’s cheeks very gently, brushing the paper towel against his skin until it started to break up from holding too much water and product. Dennis dusted off his face with a dry part of the paper towel and then crumpled it up on Mac’s dresser, and Mac opened his eyes. He turned to look at his reflection; his face was almost entirely clean, except for a few bits of stray glue that was clinging to his cheeks. Mac swiped at them with one hand, most of it flaking away under his touch.

“All better,” said Dennis brightly. He ducked in to press a quick kiss to Mac’s mouth. “Can I grab something from your drawer to wear? I don’t have any mesh and I’m feeling it tonight.”

“Go ahead,” said Mac, stepping back and waving at his dresser.

He dug through his own closet while Dennis unearthed the buried mesh shirt from the bottom of Mac’s clothes. The whole time he bitched about how disorderly Mac’s drawer was, while Mac told him to go root through his own pile of button-ups if he wanted something conventionally organized to wear to the bar. Dennis threw the old tube of Party City glitter at him.

“Oh, I love this song,” said Mac, brightening up. He hummed the opening bars of it as he rejoined Dennis where he was standing and putting on mascara in Mac’s mirror. He poked at his side to get his attention, ignoring when Dennis slapped at his hands. “Isn’t this romantic?”

“Stop making me flinch when I’m putting on makeup,” Dennis said stubbornly. “I’m smearing it everywhere.”

“Whatever,” said Mac, snorting.

“And no, I don’t think that the song What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger is romantic,” Dennis continued. “Christ.”

“The song’s just called Stronger, bro. And it’s totally romantic!” said Mac. He circled his arms lightly around Dennis’s waist, swaying them together to the beat. In the mirror, he watched Dennis roll his eyes. “It’s about, like, getting jacked as hell and finding a new boyfriend to bang it out with.”

“How is that romantic?” Dennis asked, laughing. His mascara wand speckled the wooden top of the dresser when he waved it around like that, and Mac bit lightly into his shoulder and told him to watch it. “And anyway, that is absolutely not what it’s about! It’s about getting over your shitty ex!”

“Okay, but we can at least agree that it’s about going to the gym a bunch. Right?”

Dennis laughed again. “No. No, we cannot agree on that.”

Mac ducked to press his lips against the side of Dennis’s neck.

“Whatever,” he said, disentangling his arms from around him and stepping back. He grabbed the tube of glitter off the dresser and uncapped it, but before he could squeeze any out, Dennis spun around and snatched it out of his hands. “What are you doing?”

Dennis didn’t answer. He just quirked a little half-smile at him, enigmatic as usual, and screwed the top of his mascara back on so he could squeeze some body glitter out onto his fingers. He held his hand close to Mac’s chest, making his intentions clear.

“Wanna put your shirt on first?” asked Dennis, hand hovering right above one of his pecs.

Mac pulled on the shirt he’d grabbed from his closet and then thrown down to the floor, the one he’d gotten from some thrift shop he’d found while exploring with Charlie once. It was just plain grey, but it was cropped around his midriff and read POUND CAKE in fancy lettering. Dennis rolled his eyes when he read it, after Mac tugged it on, but he moved forward and started to rub him down without comment.

He started at Mac’s cheeks and worked his way lower. Mac had to keep directing him back over areas that he’d missed, although Dennis kept insisting that he had already gotten it all over his abs anyway.

“Do it again,” said Mac. “You can’t see it right over there!”

He pointed at a patch of skin just above his jeans.

“Mac, I promise you that I just ran over that spot. Twice.”

“Uh, Den, I know you did,” he said. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that you can’t see it yet! I want it to shine.”

“It will once you’re under all the strobes in the club. I promise!” said Dennis. “It’s just because the lighting in your room is so unbelievably shitty, Mac.”

“I should be shining no matter where I am,” Mac said, “if I’m doing it right. I should be able to light up under those shitty fluorescents at that diner we always go to.”

Most of the time, they were still awake when the clubs closed down, and they were usually hungry enough with the drunchies that they wound up Google Mapping their way to a twenty-four diner in the early hours. Recently, a new bar had opened up not far from their apartment that they both agreed they liked best, and there was a diner a few blocks over from it that stayed open all day around. They had kind of become regulars there, albeit very irregular regulars because of the unpredictable hours at which they went out to bars in the first place.

“Seriously?” said Dennis. He laughed. “Oh, man. Okay, well in that case I should just bathe you in this whole tube.”

Mac shoved at his shoulder, even as he basked in the slide of Dennis’s hands up over his ribs and then down again along one side of his back.

“Shut up.”

Dennis slipped his fingers down to press along the lower part of Mac’s back, rubbing the glitter into his skin. Mac leaned forward into him, digging his nails into Dennis’s arms to steady himself. Dennis looked up into his face, looming close, and smiled.

“I’m being serious!” said Dennis, and Mac pinched his arm a little. “Okay, so is your back good?”

“What? No, you’ve barely touched my back.”

“Mac, you can’t seriously want me to rub glitter all over your back. Who’s gonna see it back there?”

“Uh, everyone?” said Mac, his voice mocking. “Everyone from the minute I turn around?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dennis muttered.

He spun Mac around with a hand on his shoulder so he could smooth his glitter-splattered palm across his spine and the other side of his back, and even dropped briefly to the floor to run his hands once down his legs. Mac was grinning when he stood back up in front of him, and Dennis leaned close to him. Mac thought he was going to kiss him, but Dennis just smirked and smacked his palms against the sides of Mac’s shorts to wipe off the rest of the glitter. Mac let him use his outfit as a towel — or at least, he didn’t pull away even though he complained.

“Aw, come on,” said Dennis, expression pinching as he pulled his hands back and examined them. “I’m gonna have glitter rubbed into the lines on my palms for weeks.”

“Who gives a shit?” Mac snorted. “What, were you planning on getting your fortune told soon?”

“I don’t need to. I already know it,” said Dennis lightly. He ticked off the points on his fingers. “Break up with Mac immediately. Find a sugar daddy at the bar. Never come home.”

Mac swatted at his shoulder, and Dennis was laughing right up until Mac tugged him in to press a warm kiss to his mouth. He nipped at his lip before pulling away, patting a glitter-flecked hand against Dennis’s cheek with a little more force than necessary.

“Ow,” Dennis complained, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Whatever, bitch. You deserved it.”

He let him go. Mac shifted away, but Dennis’s hand lashed out and grabbed at his forearm before he got two steps back. They both looked down at it for a long few seconds, Dennis’s forehead creased like he wasn’t quite sure why he had done that. He quickly yanked it back and met Mac’s eye again. Mac grinned a little.

“Where are you going?” asked Dennis, his tone clearly aiming for light but missing by a small margin. “You still have to do me.”

“I’m just going to the bathroom, Den. I’ll be right back,” said Mac.

“Okay,” said Dennis. “You’re gonna remember to come back and put some on me before we go, though, right?”

“Yes, Dennis,” he said. He shook his head. “That cool? That good? Can I take a two minute break to piss before I rub you down in glitter?”

Dennis shoved his hands in his pockets.

“That’s cool,” he echoed, his brow furrowing the way it did when he got defensive. “Whatever. I don’t care what you do.”

“Let me know if it’s not cool,” said Mac, spreading his hands, all fake earnestness and wide eyes. “If it’s not cool with you I’ll just stand here and piss myself ‘cause you’re so desperate to look as gay as you can, as fast as you can.”

Dennis rolled his eyes, his cheeks tinging pink.

“I said it was fine,” he grumbled.

“Just say the word and I will piss all over the place!” said Mac. “I will piss on me, I’ll piss on you if that’s what you’re into — Is that what you’re into? ‘Cause you seem awful excited to get me to do it—”

“Mac.”

“I’ll just drench you in it, bro, I mean it. Since you’re begging—”

Mac was laughing when Dennis shoved at his arm hard with both hands, pushing him bodily toward the bathroom. Dennis didn’t stop until Mac was all the way through the door, and he slapped at him one last time.

“Stop being such a bitch while you’re in there, if you can manage it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically again.

Mac grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When he came back out a few minutes later, Dennis was looming over Mac’s phone on the dresser, tapping at something on his phone. Mac was pretty sure he was messing with his Spotify, because the song filtering out of the speaker kept shifting over and over.

“What are you doing?” Mac demanded, pushing his arms out of the way.

“I didn’t know your password, so I was just trying to skip through to something halfway decent,” said Dennis, stepping back. He frowned. “You have some normal tunes in there usually, why won’t it play them?”

“It’s a playlist, Den. It just cycles through what I put on it.”

“And you didn’t put anything on it except for Kelly Clarkson?” Dennis asked, loud and annoyed and looking five seconds away from stomping his foot.

“No, I think there’s some Gwen Stefani on here,” said Mac. He unlocked his phone and swiped down the playlist until he found where Hollaback Girl was, slipped between two songs by Queen. He showed Dennis the phone, pulling out of his reach when he went to grab for it. Mac pushed him back with a forearm to the chest.

“I don’t want to listen to Gwen Stefani,” said Dennis.

Mac shrugged. “Whatever, dude.”

“I don’t want to listen to Kelly Clarkson, either, if that’s an option.”

“It’s not,” said Mac cheerfully. “Dude, Breakaway is a great song! Look, you always make the Uber put on your glam rock femme 80s shit! We can listen to your stuff later. We’re going to anyway.”

Dennis crossed his arms. Mac set the phone down and stepped closer, drawing Dennis in by the waist until Dennis relented, settling his hands on Mac’s chest and letting him give him a short kiss. When he pulled back, Mac was already picking up the glitter again; he waved it at him, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Want me to rub you down?”

“Yeah.” Dennis sighed, taking a step back, out of his arms. “Go lighter than you did on yourself, though.”

“What’s wrong with how much glitter I use?” Mac asked, glancing down at his body.

He squeezed some paste out onto his hand and rubbed his palms together. Dennis lifted his arms so Mac could smooth it down both of his sides.

“You practically bathe in it,” said Dennis, leaning into Mac’s touch when he rubbed glitter into Dennis’s chest, up under the mesh so it would shine through later in the dark. “I’m going more subtle with it.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Right. Of course.”

He swept a line of glitter down both of Dennis’s arms; most of the time, he really didn’t like that he could fit his whole hand around Dennis’s arm, even at the thickest part of them, but now it was at least expedient in spreading as much of the glitter on him as possible in one go. He closed his eyes, face scrunching, when Mac swiped his thumbs beneath Dennis’s eyes. Mac slathered up his hands again, but Dennis pulled away, when Mac moved to step around him.

“What are you doing?” Mac asked. “I have to get your back.”

“No, I’m good,” he said. He looked down at his torso. “Actually, I think you overdid it a little there.”

“Uh, okay,” said Mac scathingly. “No one is even gonna be able to tell that you’re wearing that in the car, though.”

“I don’t give a shit if the Uber driver knows that I’m wearing glitter, Mac,” he said, shaking his head. “I barely give a shit if the people in the club can tell. Besides, you always get it all over me anyway, I probably didn’t even need to put any on.”

“Sure,” said Mac. “I’m sure you’re trying to be really understated tonight, what with the mesh and the boyfriend and the gay bar and everything. And how you’re wearing skinny jeans.”

Dennis scowled.

“I look good and you know it,” he said. “I’m simply reflecting the vibes, Mac.”

“Okay, bitch. Whatever,” he said. He knocked a knuckle under Dennis’s chin and ducked in to kiss him briefly. “Should we order the car now, or what?”

Dennis leaned in to kiss him again. “Yes.”

He disentangled himself from beneath Mac’s hands and went to go swipe his phone from the other room. Mac slung his jacket on, then grabbed his own phone and tucked it into his back pocket so he could keep listening to his music while he went to go raid the kitchen for leftovers; he needed some carbs before he started downing tequila shots, which they always wound up doing no matter how many cocktails they had first. Dennis found him while he was munching on week old pizza, not reheated but covered with enough garlic to make it taste great anyway.

“Hey,” said Dennis. “Oh, great, I can smell that from here. So you should be tons of fun to kiss later.”

Mac told him to go fuck himself and find a new beefcake to kiss if he didn’t like it. He still let Dennis lean around him and snag a bite, though, before he slipped his hand down over Mac’s back pocket.

“Come on, pound cake,” said Dennis, his voice dripping with derision. His eyes skimmed down the shirt Mac was wearing, and he snorted. “Our ride’s here.”

He patted Mac’s ass once, then skimmed his hand down over Mac’s wrist and slipped their fingers together. Mac squeezed, shoving the rest of the pizza into his mouth with his free hand as he followed Dennis back out of the kitchen. Mac pulled the door shut behind them, holding a hand out over his shoulder so Dennis could pass him the apartment keys.

“Mac?” he said, voice syrupy sweet.

Mac paused in jamming the key in to glance over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Dennis pressed a kiss against the back of Mac’s neck, hands sliding down his arms. He hooked his chin over Mac’s shoulder.

“Can you turn off the fucking Kelly Clarkson now?” he asked.

Mac snorted, elbowing Dennis off of him. Dennis’s hand groped around in his back pocket to reach for his phone himself, and the music went quiet right as Mac snapped the lock into place.