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Who Are You Thinking Of?

Summary:

Prompt - Not sure if you still take requests, but here's an idea: After Dennis leaves for North Dakota, Mac goes through his stuff while cleaning their apartment. He finds a box of sex tapes, he had never seen before. He watches them all, only to discover that each one of them has a secret message for him in the end. (What messages Dennis has left for him and if Mac will be able to contact him are up to you. Something angsty would be nice.)

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

He hates that he does this, but more often than not, Mac finds himself in Dennis’ room, reminiscing about what they had, or what he thought they had, rather.

Dennis’ sheets are still made as he always remembers to smooth them over once he’s finished laying on them.

(He rarely sleeps in his bedroom anymore.)

It’s his off night, and instead of going to the Rainbow as he’d originally planned, he finds himself pilfering through the things (the remnants as he likes to call them) Dennis left behind.

(In fact, he’s wearing one of his old shirts right now. It’s tight, but he’s alone and doesn’t really give a shit because it still smells like Dennis’ cologne.)

His nosiness eventually leads him to the closet, and though he’s been in there several times since Dennis left, there’s a box he spots nestled underneath a pile of boxes in the bottom right corner. He pulls it out like a Jenga block, the cartons on top stacked in such a way that they overlap and don’t move. What catches Mac’s eye is his name written in big, bold letters on the back of the box. One eyebrow arches as he undoes the folded flaps and pries it open.

Inside are seven tapes, but the labels have no names, just stars and each tape only has one star each along with a number written in the center of it. This piques his interest as he’s watched and re-watched the many sex tapes Dennis has made in his life and even though quite a few turned to ashes when their apartment burned down, Mac still watched the ones that survived.

(They’re the only videos he has of Dennis.)

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he pops one into the VCR that still miraculously works, and hits play.

The screen comes to life and within seconds, Dennis’ voice can be heard.

“It’s a shame that the restaurant was closed, but to be honest, I really wasn’t hungry anyway,” Dennis says, leading the way into his room. He’s dressed in a casual light blue button up and khakis, and his hair is longer, which means this is more recent.

Mac’s brows raise high into his forehead when he sees that Dennis was followed by a man, a very buff, brown-eyed dark-haired man. Not a woman, but a man. A man. The mystery man sits down on the bed and looks around the room, spreading his legs wide open. “Nice place,” the guy remarks and leans back, gaze falling on Dennis as he turns his stereo on. Even though the volume is low, the indistinct sounds of Yazoo’s Only You begin to play.

“Yeah, it’s decent enough,” Dennis replies slyly, glancing at the camera as he comes to stand in front of the brunette. He places his hand on the guy’s cheek, making eye contact with the camera once more before he starts to sink to his knees.

It’s the exact opposite of damn near every sex tape Dennis has made with women. In all of those, he takes his time, talking and talking and talking until he finally convinces them to sleep with him. This? He says two sentences to the guy and then starts sucking his dick.

Mac is intrigued. He’s never seen this side of Dennis before, never even saw him bring a guy into the apartment. When the fuck did he do that? And where the hell was I, Mac wonders as he watches the guy reach his hand into Dennis’ curls and moan. Mac was hard the moment Dennis sank to his knees; he feels like he could cum at any second now.

The camera angle is centered on the left facing side of the bed, and Dennis’ throat is in perfect view as he deep throats the now obviously big-dicked dude.

“Fucking asshole,” Mac mutters as he palms himself over his sweats. “Always a fucking asshole,” he continues, and his hand slips underneath his waistband. He cums just as the dude bro on camera does, and his head sinks back for a moment, but jolts straight up the moment his name is said on the screen.

“Hello, Mac.” Dennis’ voice is soft and suddenly his sullen face appears. He looks tired, and Mac can tell that he’s not wearing any makeup. His hair is mussed, and he looks like he just woke up (or maybe tried to sleep but couldn’t). “I knew you’d find this sooner or later, it’s just who you are. And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Dennis, why in the fuck did I just watch you suck a man’s dick? So, to that I would answer, wouldn’t you like to know? It’s bugging you, isn’t it? You probably jacked off to it, but we both know you jacked off to all my previous videos, didn’t you? And the reason for that? The one common denominator, of course, is me. It wouldn’t matter if I was banging a hot chick or getting banged by some handsome dude; the only thing you want to see is me. It’s just a shame you couldn’t understand that before.”

The video cuts off abruptly, and Mac’s brow lowers. “What the fuck? Goddammit, Dennis. Goddamn you,” Mac says to no one other than himself as he convinces his legs to work and take him back over to the tape filled box. He promptly hits the eject button with a little more force than necessary, and the tape pops out. He hurriedly replaces it with a new one and slides his pants and boxers off as it starts to play. Once he sees there’s another dark-haired, brown-eyed man on the screen, he rolls his eyes and takes a pair of boxers out of Dennis’ drawer and pulls them on. (He obviously didn’t need them since he left them.)

Once he sees Dennis climb on top of the man and they’re both shirtless, Mac has had enough. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he watches the video progress, and before long, Dennis’ headboard is banging against the wall as the man fucks up into him.

Mac’s blood starts to sizzle with jealousy, but he’s also incredibly turned on, so it takes everything in him not to cum again. He can’t so soon, he still has five more of these to go.

Fuck.

It’s another three minutes, and Dennis’ face is back on the screen, this time flawless and hair coifed. “You may not have wanted to watch that, but you did, didn’t you? There’s a part of you that loves to watch, don’t you, Mac? You close your eyes for a little while and just imagine what it would be like, but nothing ever happened, did it? You never once tried to make anything happen. I don’t know, maybe if you had, I’d still be there.” Dennis sends a knowing look at the camera before it goes to static.

“Son of a bitch,” Mac gripes as he painstakingly stands up, dick still half hard and takes the most recent tape out and places a new one in. His eyes widen as he watches the third goddamned brunette in a row fucking up into Dennis again, but this one is sliding his dick in between Dennis’ pecs and going to town. Mac whimpers as he cums that time, finishing just before they do on screen.

“I bet you’re marathoning these, aren’t you?” Dennis is back, a surefire grin on his face as he looks into the camera. “You just can’t help yourself. So filthy and debaucherous.” Dennis shakes his head, curls shifting and falling from their previous position into his eyes. “It’s a shame you couldn’t have just used your mouth, Mac. In more ways than that one, but it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? You know,” at these words, the smile falls from his face, and he looks past the camera. “It could’ve been you, Mac. I wished it were you.”

Those words strike a chord in Mac’s chest, and he finds himself reeling, wondering what the fuck he’s done to deserve this. He looks up at the ceiling, and shame immediately washes over his face because he shouldn’t be looking to God right now, not while he’s mostly naked and has dried cum on his thigh.

He’s up before he even realizes it, repeating the process from earlier and forging on through the next tape. He watches it even though it pisses him off because now Dennis is railing some rather fit man that’s leaning over his mattress and Mac’s hand shoots straight to his dick and gives it another tug. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he also knows that Dennis is a manipulative bastard and knows exactly what he’s doing. And what does Mac do? Allows himself to become manipulated because he’s always been putty in Dennis’ pale hands.

Right before Dennis finishes, he winks at the camera, muscles tensing as he grips the man’s hips in front of him. Once it’s over, there he is again, but this time, this time it looks like he’s been crying. There are mascara smudges at the corners of his eyes, and it takes him a minute before he’s able to speak.

“I think about that rocket launcher every day. Every single goddamned day, and I wonder, I wonder what would have happened if I would’ve just told you how I felt then. Everything felt…disjointed. No one had ever given me such a wonderful gift before, and yet, you, you of all people, Mac, knew exactly what I wanted and just how badly I wanted it. You said that you knew me, yet, if that were true, you would’ve realized just what I felt for you.” He pauses here, finally looking up and into the lens and sniffles. “I felt too much for you.”

Mac wants to punch something, so he grabs the pillow that’s nearest to him (the one that still carries the vaguest hint of Dennis’ shampoo) and lays into it, not caring that he’s literally beating the stuffing out of it until it flies up and into his mouth. He growls as he tosses the empty, hollow pillow to the floor and huffs out a breath. “This is bullshit. Total fucking bullshit,” and the urge to cry swiftly overwhelms him as a shaky sigh leaves his lips.

His phone is face down on the mattress and he yanks it up, dials the number (that he now knows by heart) and hears the menu for the mental health hotline begin to recite. Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes as he throws the phone back down onto the bed and collapses onto it. He leans over, elbows resting on his knees as the pain in his chest grows.

A sob escapes his throat, and he hates the conflicting emotions that swirl within his melancholic mind. He’s filled with rage yet wants to curl up into a ball and stay that way until Charlie or even possibly Dee find his mummified corpse.

The anger and sadness wage a war with each other until the wrath that’s flooding through his veins finally wins and he stands up and takes the stupid, ancient tape out and pops in the fifth one.

He’s not surprised to see yet another (what he has come to realize is) doppelganger of his on the screen. The man’s hair is even slicked back, for Christ’s sake and it takes less than two minutes before all of their clothes are off and Dennis is perched on his lap and riding the stupidly attractive man’s dick. He moans loudly and wantonly, even sinks so low as to run his hands through his own hair as he’s about to cum and Mac wants to rip Dennis’ head clear off his throat for how goddamned fuckable he looks.

There’s a cut, just like the previous four, and there’s Dennis’ face, his dumb, handsome face on the screen. This time though, he says nothing. He opens his mouth to speak numerous times, but finally, his head sinks, loose curls falling forward as he mumbles, “Fuck it,” and his hand reaches up and the screen turns to discombobulated static.

A serene numbness settles over Mac, like a single cloud cast over the sun as it shines down upon a lake, and Mac feels his body move without his permission. His hands repeat the actions of his past self, and he extracts the fifth cassette, replaces it with the sixth and hits play.

(He wonders sometimes, if he’s a masochist because hurting shouldn’t feel as good as it does sometimes.)

Mac sits there, eyes almost taking on a blank state as the screen comes to life and there’s Dennis, entering the room and a man with similar tattoos as Mac trails quite close behind, a hand on Dennis’ waist.

One of Mac’s eyebrows quirk upwards when the man spins Dennis and attempts to kiss him but a confused smile pulls up the corners of his lips as he backs away and raises a hand to the other man’s chest to force some space between them. An anxious laugh leaves his throat as he takes another step back and shakes his head. “Um, that’s – that’s not what this is, my friend,” he tells the man and stands there awkwardly until the guy saddles up to him and starts to unbutton his shirt.

“It’s not?” the guy asks as he undoes the last button and Dennis just stares at him blankly.

“No. It’s not.” The words are spoken so quietly that Mac almost doesn’t hear them, but he can tell by the expression on Dennis’ face that he’s no longer interested in whatever game he was previously participating in. “Um, I think – I think you need to go. How about you just go, alright?”

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” the man continues flirtatiously, placing a thick hand on Dennis’ cheek that he promptly swipes away.

It’s like watching a tornado develop as the unsure look on Dennis’ face is replaced with a wrath so sudden, it’s akin to witnessing the sky transform from blue to black within five seconds. “Get the fuck out of here!” Dennis shouts, eyes round and serious as he points towards his door.

“Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck?” The guy snaps, his brow now also drawn as he stares Dennis down.

“I said get the fuck out of here, you stupid, stupid imbecile! Now!” Dennis thunders, hands flying out to his sides.

“What’d you call me?” The sixth douchebag’s voice is deep and threatening and Mac suddenly feels himself come to back life as the guy gets in Dennis’ face and for a split second, Mac feels his body jerk in reaction, the immediate need to protect Dennis stirring him to life but it stills the moment Dennis goads the man.

His voice is low and holding so much venom a snake would be jealous as he says, “Imbecile. I called you an imbecile because you’re a goddamned id –”

Before Dennis can finish the insult, the man smacks him across the cheek, hard and fast.

“What the fuck?” Mac mumbles as Dennis’ hand lifts to his cheek where there’s the tiniest noticeable speck of blood on the corner of his lips.

“Say that again,” the man orders and something dangerous flickers across Dennis’ eyes.

From in between his teeth, Dennis hisses the words out slowly, as though he’s speaking to a child. “You are a goddamned idiot!”

Just as he completes the sentence, the man reaches out and slaps him again, even harder than the time before, snapping Dennis’ head back with the force.

It takes Dennis a little longer to recover his time, but the moment he does, he grabs the man by his collar and pushes him down on his bed. It’s not long before they’re fucking. It’s fast and it’s rough and Mac cums without even having to touch himself.

There’s no message at the end of this tape. Once they’re done, it’s over with and he’s left with a blank, static filled screen.

He sits there for a few minutes, letting the white noise infiltrate his ears before he moves. He picks up the box and stares at the tape, then reaches his hand in after a few agonizing seconds and takes it out.

He uses his index finger to punch the eject button and takes out the sixth tape to watch the seventh and final one.

It takes all the energy Mac has left to collapse back onto the bed and focus his attention on the final tape.

Just like all the previous (and really, every single one he’s ever watched), Dennis’ bedroom comes into view and remains empty until Dennis opens the door and sits down at the foot of his bed, exactly where Mac is sitting now.

He’s alone and he’s wearing the outfit from the very last time Mac saw him. It dawns on Mac as he watches Dennis sit there looking completely conflicted, that he made this just before he left with Mandy and Brian for, for seemingly good.

Dennis sighs and peers up at the camera. “Well, this is it, isn’t it? The end of the road. We’ve been on it for over twenty years together and I’m going to board a plane in,” he pauses to check the time on his cell phone, “Two hours. In two hours, I’ll leave Philadelphia, but more significantly, I’ll be leaving you.” His jaw clenches as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so. His hands are resting in his lap, fingers interlocked together as he runs the pad of his right thumb along the top of his left. “Honestly? I don’t really want to do this. I don’t,” he admits with a shake of the head. “But I know, it’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to leave because I have a son that needs me.” A grim smiles crosses his lips as he shakes his head. “It’s an odd thing, Mac, to be honest. Honesty is such a strange thing because it forces you to look truth in the face and deal with it, and you know what? I really don’t want to deal with this, but…I can’t stay. I can’t stay because if I do, I’m going to fall back into all the same patterns and routines and I’m not going to make it because it hurts right now, Mac. It fucking hurts because for the last several goddamned years, you have been the sole person that’s kept me going.”

A humorless laugh leaves his lips and he shakes his head again. “I’ve often wondered if you’d ever wake up and realize one day what’s going on between us. I think you may have figured some of it out, especially when we were pretending to be involved, and the truth is, I have been emotionally attached to you ever since we were kids. From the very first time I bought weed off of your poor ass, until now,” he confesses, hands lifting then dropping to his knees. “We’re sort of like the moon in a way, aren’t we? Waxing and waning, yet never meeting in the middle because we’re just too ignorant of our own feelings. You,” he says as he gestures towards the camera, “Were all caught up in your God bullshit and feeling guilty for harboring feelings for men, or me rather, and torturing yourself for it, and I, well, I understood what I felt, but I was too emotionally numb to process it.”

He pauses again and runs a hand through the back of his hair. “I understand that I have issues, Mac, believe me, I do. I don’t feel things the way others do. You, you have a constant flow of feelings, whether you’re sad or mad or happy – that’s just who you are. That’s how most people are, but myself on the other hand, my feelings are either non-existent, or massively existent. I haven’t had an in between in a very long time. Right now, I feel encumbered by the fact that I have a child, a child that, for all intents and purposes, needs me in his life. Do I think that?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t. I don’t,” he repeats wistfully, staring off until something appears to click in his brain, and he sits up straight. He checks his cell phone again and sighs. “I really need to get going, but before I do, there’s something you need to know.”

The screen pixelates and Mac’s face falls. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbles, worry on his breath as he smacks the television.

“I,” and it scrambles again, taking Dennis’ words along with it. “You, Mac, and if,” and Dennis is back and holding up an index finger. “If you –”

“Goddammit!” Mac yells frustratedly as the tape once again becomes a garbled mess that he can’t understand.

“The same, then I’ll leave the door open. I know – I know I was an asshole and left you a number for a mental health hotline, and I’m sorry for that. I really am.” The tape is playing without interruption again and Mac edges closer to the screen, lays a hand on Dennis’ cheek. “If there’s any chance for us, and I mean any,” and Dennis stops, glances at the door to his room, and sighs again. “Then I want you to call me. The numbers are written on the tape labels. Just put them in the order that you watched them. You can google the area code for North Dakota. I’m not going to do all the work for you. Goodbye, Mac.”

“What?” Mac exclaims as he stares at the pile. “Fuck, fuck, Dennis, you had better not be fucking with me right now. Aw, goddammit. What order – wait,” Mac tells himself as he hurriedly puts the tapes in the order he thinks he watched them. “Okay,” he murmurs and picks up his phone, pulling up the google app and searching for the area code. “Okay, okay, okay. 701,” he says out loud even though he’s alone and types it in. He then taps on the numbers as he skims down the tape labels.

He hits the call button and immediately hangs up after the first ring. “Ah, goddammit! Goddammit! What if this is all just another way to make me feel like a complete idiot?” Mac asks himself as he runs a hand through his hair and tugs it. “No, no, this is Dennis we’re talking about here. The man who overcomplicates everything in the entire fucking world. He wouldn’t do this to me again, would he?” Mac wonders. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Within seconds, the phone is ringing again.

One ring.

(Pick up.)

Two rings.

(Please pick up.)

Three rings.

(Goddammit, pick up!)

Four rings, and Mac has a trickle of doubt start to wiggle its way into his brain.

Five rings, and now he’s seriously considering hanging up.

Six rings, and that’s it. Dennis has fucked him up and over again.

Just as ring number seven trills through the line, it picks up.

“Mac?”

Tears suddenly well in Mac’s eyes and his mouth opens a few times before he can finally speak. “Den?”

He’s met with a sharp intake of breath before the man on the other end of the line says, “I knew you’d figure it out.” There’s relief in his tone, relief that makes Mac smile through the tears that are currently rolling down his cheeks.

“I think – I think we have a lot to talk about,” Mac tells him and sniffles. The fact that he’s missed Dennis lingers on the tip of his tongue, but he knows how desperate he’ll sound if he says it so, instead, he just waits.

Silence whispers on the line until finally, Dennis speaks again. “Mac?” There’s something in his tone that makes Mac answer immediately because Dennis sounds like something is wrong, and if something is wrong, that means Mac needs to fix it and –

“I – I miss you.”

Mac clamps a hand over his mouth because there’s a sob clamoring to get out, to bash right through the wall of stoic stubbornness he’s built, but as hard as he tries, he fails and miserably at that. “I miss you too, Den,” he confesses as he wipes his eyes. “So fucking much.”

The tears finally stop long enough for them to have a conversation, a real conversation about what the other wants. By the end, it’s decided that Mac’s going to fly out to North Dakota so they can spend some time together. Just before he hangs up, a thought occurs to Mac that he deems it necessary to voice. “Den, just one more thing, okay?”

“Um, yeah, sure what is it?” Dennis asks, sounding like a completely different person. He sounds happy and dare Mac think it – hopeful.

“Um, I just wanted to say that…the only brunette you’re ever going to fuck again is me. Okay? No more dicknoses that look like me. Got it?”

He can almost hear Dennis smiling across the line as he says, “Yeah, Mac, I got it.”

A few years later as Mac watches Dennis walk down the aisle towards him, for a split second, he recalls just how lonely he was that night, but as Dennis gets closer to him, a warm smile on his face, he’s thankful that he’ll never feel that way again.

Notes:

Anon, I do apologize if this isn't quite what you were looking for, but hopefully, you still like it.

Title taken from the song by Jónsi.