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When you’re not crying, you’re having fun

Summary:

Before Mac can sheepishly ask if he’s allowed to come home, Dennis corners both him and Charlie and asks a sheepish question of his own.

Day 27—Double Penetration/Threesome

Notes:

my excuse for this one is that i was thinking about the aftermath of mac and charlie die, specifically charlie looking at a severely concussed mac and a very needy dennis and being like. u know what we should do? poppers

title from ‘When It Rains’ by Junie & TheHutFriends

no CWs

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Before Mac can sheepishly ask if he’s allowed to come home, Dennis corners both him and Charlie and asks a sheepish question of his own. 

“I, uh, I was wondering if you guys both wanted to come back to the apartment? Maybe do a movie, or…?”

Mac’s bloody face widens. “Did you say the apartment, or, like, our apartment—“

“Will there be beans involved?” Charlie interrupts, picking oddly at his mouth.

Mac nods along. “Oh, yes, beans, Dennis? What’s the bean situation like?”

“…You—Sure, you guys can have beans,” he says, bewildered, looking between them. “Just lets go now, before Frank starts crying again and Dee starts yelling again and demanding a ride and shit—“

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Charlie says, prodding Mac with his elbow—when Dennis focuses on Mac, he looks like he’s just woken up. “We should definitely go before this one passes out.”

Dennis puts go to the ER on his mental list for tomorrow, and herds them all quietly out of the bar. 

 

 

The whole ride home, Mac’s bruised, bloody face stares directly at Dennis. He won’t let up, not even for a second, not even as Dennis tugs on the collar of his dress shirt or pleadingly tries to catch Charlie’s eye in the rear view mirror. 

“Dude,” he says, finally just craning back to get Charlie’s attention. “Get your fingers out of your mouth. What are you, eight?”

“He won’t stop,” Mac mumbles. “They come right out, Dennis. They just come right out.”

“…Right. Charlie, stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing."

“I’m just checking, dude, Jesus.” Charlie doesn’t elaborate on what he means by that, and Dennis doesn’t ask. 

“What’s wrong with Mac, anyway? He won’t stop staring at me, he’s all…I mean, look at him, he looks like shit!”

“Oh, he’s super concussed. Like, I’m amazed he’s not dead. Yeah, he drove Dee’s car straight into a wall.”

Shit. Is that—“ he cuts himself off, turning to Mac, still staring, in the passenger seat. “Do we need to get you to a hospital, bud?”

“No. No way, bro. Trust me, I will be fine.” Mac blinks, one eye at a time. 

“…Okay.” 

They manage to get Mac upstairs and onto the couch, where he perks up a little when Charlie passes him—

“What the fuck, guys, when did you start doing poppers?!”

“Oh, uh, after the wedding dress, before the grenade.” Mac nods, satisfied with his incomprehensible answer as Dennis watches his eyes dilate. 

“…Great.” He watches Charlie take a hit, far less affected than Mac. “Can I have some?”

Charlie laser focuses in on him, suddenly the guy to talk to. “Uh, I don’t know, dude. Do you, like, need it?”

“Oh, come on! Seriously?! First you guys abandon me to do your stupid suicide pact, even though you thought your fucking creepy dad was gonna come eat my butt or something—“

“I didn’t think that, Dennis,” Mac says, but he doesn’t look Dennis in the eyes when he says it. 

Sure you didn’t. And then you tried to get me to do all your lame demands—“

Mac’s looking him in the eyes now. “You didn’t burn the duster!”

“Of course I didn’t! You excluded me from all your shit, made me think you were dead—I cried, assholes!”

He watches Mac and Charlie share matching grimaces at that one. 

“I—I cried. 

Dennis sinks, defeated, into the couch. Flanked on either side by his best friends in the whole world, except they clearly don’t give a shit about him. They didn’t want him to die with them, fake or not, and it’s a horrible glimpse into his future. Alone with Dee and Frank, his sister not long for the world, his not-dad lurking on the other side of every stall. 

They both tentatively reach for him, Mac wrapping an arm around his shoulder while Charlie gracelessly pats his knee. 

Mac sniffles. “How can we make it up to you, bud?” 

Charlie squeezes his knee. “Yeah, like, oh! Do you want this tin full of my teeth, or—?”

“Oh my god, is that what you’ve been doing?!” Dennis scooches away from Charlie, who’s been yanking out his own fucking teeth, even though that tucks him closer into Mac’s side. “Jesus Christ, Charlie, that’s disgusting!”

“Hey, Mac started it!”

“You two are a mess. Are you kidding—I mean, this is why you need me!”

Mac agrees as Charlie nudges Dennis, offering a popper—shit, yeah, that’s all he was trying to get, right? “Here,” Charlie says. “Maybe this’ll help make up for the, like, not including you and shit.”

Dennis inhales deeply from the vial in Charlie’s hand, euphoria washing through his system as soon as he does, lighting up his brain and loosening up his body in seconds. 

“No,” he bitches, just to be contrary, even as a simmering heat rises up beneath his skin, sinking him closer into Mac’s body. Fuck. He hasn’t done poppers in forever; he’d forgotten how horny he gets, how he’s trying to climb into Mac’s lap just on instinct, aching for something inside him—Anything, really. Friendship, cock, another hit.

Usually, any one of those would be enough, but right now his God-hole is thoroughly empty, unsatisfied with a eulogy, anonymous sex, and fucking Jan. 

Mac looks down at him with his glassy, bruise ringed eyes. “Do you, uh—I could blow you?”

Shit, now they’re all horny. 

“That’s a great idea, Mac!” Charlie stands, moving in front of Dennis to reach for his pants.

“Shit, wait!” Dennis looks up at the both of them, hands grabbing onto Charlie’s overly warm wrists. 

“Dude, there’s no way you aren’t feeling this right now.”

“No, I am! It’s just…” He grimaces at himself, mind melting out of his skull and down the base of his neck, settling somewhere in his lower back: a vivid pool of heat. “I was thinking something a little kinkier?

Mac groans, and Dennis feels the sound all the way through his ribcage. Charlie’s hands flex in his loose grip. 

“Oh, shit, yeah, dude. We can get kinkier with it. Are you thinking whips or like chains or—“

“Too much work,” Dennis mutters, even as the oversensitive skin of his back crawls at the thought of being whipped. 

“Right, yeah, you guys look like you’re goin’ down. I mean, for real, neither of you can handle your inhalants.” Charlie leans back, and Dennis lets him go, hands too far away for him to do anything other than stare at them for a second, pleasure sparking up from his palms when he manages to get his fingers to twitch. “Okay,” Charlie continues, “Here’s the plan. We—Well, first we have to get out of these clothes, or it’s never gonna work. Come on.”

Dennis’ head spins as he somehow ends up in his bed, totally naked, leaning back against Mac’s chest. 

“Dude, I bet I could fit my whole hand in here,” Charlie’s saying, and Dennis jarringly realizes that Charlie’s got at least three fingers inside of him, roughly dragging them out and forcing them back into Dennis’ admittedly wide-open body. 

“Don’t you dare,” he says, or at least he tries to, distracted again by the way Mac’s holding more inhalants up under his nose, kissing wetly down the side of Dennis’ neck as he takes a deep, deep breath. 

“No, I’m serious, like, this is crazy. Give me another hit when you’re done, dude.”

Vaguely, Dennis registers Mac obliging, and then Charlie’s hand is gone, replaced with Mac’s absurd dick. “It’s—shit,” he moans, “It’s bigger than it looks.

“Thanks,” Mac chirps, hands blanketing Dennis’ entire body all at once. Dick pressing into Dennis’ God-hole like it’s gonna fill it for him. All that betrayal—all that longing, that rotting pit deep inside his chest—quivering in the face of doing drugs and fucking his best friends. 

Dennis moans, tossing his head back so Mac can suck hickeys into his skin more better. 

Speaking of friends, plural, Charlie’s getting impatient apparently, because he grabs Dennis’ dick and jerks it to get his attention.

“Jesus, come on! Not fair,” Dennis groans, bucking up into Charlie’s hand and back down onto Mac’s cock. 

“You wanna know what’s not fair, Dennis? Uh, the fact that no one is doing anything to get me off right now.” Charlie releases Dennis’ dick, grabbing for his head. 

Ew,” Dennis whines. “Your hands are gross.

Come on, dude, get over it.” Charlie drags him down until he’s bracing himself on his far-away elbows, Mac following him to lazily fuck him as Dennis mouths along Charlie’s dick. 

“You really need to bathe more often,” Dennis murmurs, too horny to care about the unkempt pubes and general musk. Mouth open wide as Charlie quickly gets bored of his attempts at teasing, grabbing Dennis’ chin and shoving the head of his dick between Dennis’ lips. 

Shit, this is what he was looking for.

Completely filled up, Charlie fucking down his throat too fast and making him gag as Mac struggles to stay upright where he’s slowly grinding into Dennis’ ass. 

Finally, Mac loses the battle. 

He pitches forward, forcing Dennis further forward on Charlie’s dick until the poppers are the only thing stopping him from retching. 

That’s Mac, the duster, a shield of goddamn armor who won’t fucking burn. Protecting him. Covering Dennis’ body with his body. Just barely managing to roll his hips—still trying. 

Charlie fists his hands in Dennis’ hair, and the pain struggles to slip through to his blissed out brain. His only coherent thoughts including god, this is so good, and I can’t breathe. I’m going to cum. 

Charlie doesn’t care about him or his pleasure anymore, lost in getting off in Dennis’ mouth, which only makes it hotter. He can’t move, trapped in-between them, limbs uncooperative—all he can do is take it, drooling around Charlie’s cock and trying desperately to rock back onto Mac’s absurd dick. 

Finally, they offer mercy. Charlie shoves the last of the poppers up beneath his nose as Mac fists Dennis’ dick and cums in him unceremoniously. Groans into his ear, spreading warmth through Dennis’ body. Weakly jerking him off. 

It’s weak, but it works. 

Dennis clenches down on Mac’s spent cock, his own shouting muffled into Charlie’s flesh as an overwhelming pleasure crashes through him, wiping out every coherent thought in his mind, body screaming with near-agony at how good it fucking feels. 

He loses track of time until he chokes on Charlie’s cum, yanking his head back and coughing up jizz. Ending up back in Mac’s lap, crowded into that poor, broken body. ER tomorrow, he remembers. 

And then, he forgets. 

Dude, that was sick,” Charlie says, reaching over Dennis’ trembling, still-coughing body to high five Mac. “We should have poppers all the time.”

“Yeah. Sleep now,” Mac groans, flopping to one side and seemingly passing out. 

Dennis watches Charlie look between them—Dennis, who is barely keeping himself sat up without Mac behind him, and Mac on his back already snoring. “Is it cool if I stay?”

Dennis shrugs, following Mac down. “Jus’ turn off the light either way, bro.”

The room is dark a moment later, and Charlie is crawling into bed with them, pressing against Dennis’ back—another duster—as Dennis pretends he isn’t shoving his face into Mac’s neck. 

“Thanks,” Dennis mutters into the silence, feeling Mac’s pulse against his cheek. Just making sure he’s still alive. 

As he’s drifting, mostly asleep, Jan’s stupid, smug voice floats through his fucked-out mind. 

Don’t bang who you live with. 

Dennis rolls his eyes, curling deeper into Mac and Charlie’s warm bodies. Assured that, next time they have to die, it’ll be the three of them—all or nothing. 

He smiles against Mac’s overheated skin.

Notes:

all my fics are for my glorious wife but this one especially!!!! i would never have gotten it done without you sweetness <33333 thank you
as for everyone else, leave me kudos so my brain doesn’t eat itself!
leave me a COMMENT please please please in exchange i will make mac do poppers again so dennis can fuck him in the wedding dress

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