|Courage Laced with Alcohol
Author: lolly.katrina PM
Mac doesn't know how it happened or how crazy he's become, but he found himself falling for Sweet Dee.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Diandra R. & Mac - Words: 3,046 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 10 - Published: 01-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7744751
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I don't own It's Always Sunny!
Sorry if either of them seem a little out of character, it's hard to write a romance for this show without going a little off-book.
Dee stumbled into Paddy's completely hammered. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, which was weird, considering her usual tank top and shorts. Mac gasped when he looked at her. Dee tripped up to the bar and pulled herself on a seat. The four guys just looked at her in plain disgust…well, except Mac.
"Ugh, Dee, what the hell is wrong with you? It's ten o'clock in the morning, why are you drunk?" Dennis said, his nice features crinkling up at the sight of his intoxicated sister.
"You've really outdone yourself today, Deandra," Frank said.
"Yeah, Dee, you really need to get your shit together. It seems like you're getting drunk earlier and earlier every day," Charlie observed.
Mac was behind the counter, drying down a scotch glass. He stood there in silence. "Shut up dick skins…" Dee said and buried her face in her hands. "Get me a drink, Mac." She ordered, her voice slurring.
"No, Dee, you're already super drunk." Mac said, drying off another scotch glass.
"Come on Mac, I need a drink! Don't be an asshole!" she demanded.
"Ugh," Mac said, and poured her a mug of beer.
"Why the hell are you crying, Deandra?" Frank asked, noticing tears silently streaming down her face. She buried her face between her crossed arms on the bar.
"Frank, why are you asking? It's not like we give a shit," Dennis piped, flipping through his magazine. "Hey, guys, what do you think of this shirt? I think it would really bring out my sweet biceps, really get the ladies goin' for me."
"He slept with me and just left!" Dee said, her face still buried in her arms.
"Don't give a shit, Dee," Dennis reminded her.
"Dude, you don't need any more shirts. This one costs like a hundred bucks! You could get some pretty sweet rat-killing gear with a hundred bucks, man," Charlie addressed Dennis.
"Yeah, but all my shirts are too tight now that my arm muscles are nice and big. I need to get some new ones that show off my biceps! You wouldn't understand, 'cause your arm muscles are nonexistent, dude." Dennis conjectured, flexing his wimpy arm muscles.
"Nonexistent? Dennis, I work out consistently. All that rat-killing and sewer hunting has done wonders for my arms. It doesn't matter how ripped you are, I could take on way more animals than you can. If a bear attacked you, you would be torn apart in a matter of seconds, dude. I'm like rock solid. The bear would be afraid."
"That is ridiculous. I could take a bear any day of my life." Dennis said. "You see, my superior strength allows me to punch the bear so hard that he would leave me alone. But no, when he is walking away, I would jump on him and rip him to pieces, Charlie."
The argument of strength continued between Charlie and Dennis. Mac pretended to be listening, but he was really staring at Sweet Dee. She either came in or left drunk most days, but today seemed to be different. She was crying today. While Charlie and Dennis were now arguing over who could take a lion, Dee's shoulders were silently shaking. Mac could tell that she was crying.
He felt weird.
It was so strange to feel something for Dee—pity, sadness, maybe he even cared? He wished that he could just brush her off and not give a shit like he usually did, but it was hard today. Even Frank wasn't paying attention to Dee. He was more active in the strength discussion.
Then, Dee stood up, her pretty blue eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears. Mac quickly averted his gaze. She looked at the four idiots surrounding her. "Ugh, why did I even come over here," she muttered to herself. For some reason, she thought that her four best friends (to think that they were her best friends was horrible) would care about what happened to her. But overestimated them. She picked up the beer and walked out of Paddy's.
Mac felt strange. He felt like he should go after her. Something wasn't right with Sweet Dee today. Ten minutes after Dee left (a good amount of time, Mac thought), Mac said, "I gotta go guys…I have to meet this dude for something…" he said. That was the best excuse he could think of.
While walking over to Dee's place, Mac kind of hated himself. You're being a total bitch tits today, Mac, he told himself. Stop caring about Dee, he demanded, but his brain kept leading him to Dee's apartment.
He took a deep breath before he knocked on the door.
He could hear here walking over to the door looking in the peephole, and then opening it. He was slightly amazed when he saw her. It was impossible for her to look more gorgeous, he thought. And then he mentally slapped himself. Dee was not gorgeous. Dee was supposed to look like a giant flightless bird. She had changed into a thin pink tank top and pajama pants. Her tank top was slightly low cut, revealing a little bit of cleavage and her slender neck.
Mac wondered what her neck felt like, or if her skin was really as soft as it looked.
Then he realized that he had been standing in front of her for a good two minutes, saying nothing, with his mouth slightly open and looking at her. She was just staring at him with a confused look on her face. "What do you want, boner?" she asked, suddenly crossing her arms and covering them up.
"I…um…I just…" he started stammering. Then, he looked at her arms and saw why she was covering them up. Her forearms were bruised and cut, and the top of her arms had little scars all over them. Dee had stupidly covered her scars and bruises up with duct tape. "Holy shit, Dee, what happened to you?"
"What? Oh…uh…nothing…I just…I fell, that's all." She blurted out, and she looked away nervously.
"You didn't fall. Come on Dee, what the hell is this?" he said, pulling her arm away from her chest. He spread her arm out and looked at it, swollen black and blue, half-covered in duct tape. "Dee, you are such an idiot," he said, looking into her eyes.
She winced when he touched her arm. Mac looked intently at her. "Come on," he said, letting himself in and shutting the door. He gently pulled her arm over to the couch and made her sit down. He sat down next to her and ripped the duct tape off.
"Ow, what the hell, Mac?" she said, wincing in pain. She pulled her arm back.
Mac sighed. "Dee, why did you put duct tape on your scars?"
"I…I didn't bother to look for any bandages. The tape was right there, and I was watching TV," Dee said nonchalantly.
"Oh my god, Dee." Mac stood up and went over to her kitchen. He banged through drawers and cabinets while Dee sat on the couch. He finally found a small first aid kit stashed in her pots and pans cabinet.
He opened it walked back over to Dee. "I can't believe I have to take care of you, Dee." He took the duct tape off her other arm and shoulders, a little more gently this time. He took out a bottle of Neosporin and applied it to her fragile cut skin. She looked away while he did this, occasionally drawing in sharp breaths if it hurt her.
Dee was surprised. She turned her head and observed him working on her arm. The usually harsh, arrogant, and frankly asshole-ish Mac had come over to her apartment by himself. He didn't want anything. He wasn't rude to her. He was even helping her right now. She didn't know what had come over him, but she didn't mind it. She actually liked it, a lot.
She glanced over at him, carefully putting the ointment on her, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration and his strong hands gentle on her skin.
"He didn't just leave me," Dee began. "He hit me, too." Dee still wasn't looking at Mac. "Not just with his fists, either. He took an empty glass bottle and smashed it on my shoulder. I just finished taking out the glass pieces before I came to Paddy's." Mac looked up and saw fiery Dee: hurt, sad, and weak. Her gorgeous blue eyes were filling with tears.
She took the hand that Mac wasn't working on and brushed the tears away.
Mac stopped working and looked at her. She quickly glanced up at him and then turned away again. Mac could see that flash of pain in her eyes. Mac would ordinarily brush her off and say something like I don't give a shit about your problems, Dee.
But he just couldn't bear to do that right now.
When he looked at her like this, when she was in pain and sad, he couldn't treat her like crap. He realized that he sort of did give a shit about Dee. He put his hand on top of hers and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Dee. Really." He wanted to pull her close to him and hug her until she felt better. He didn't know what was coming over him. He lifted his hand up and gently stroked Dee's head: once, twice, three times. She smiled weakly.
She looked at him, and this time her gaze lingered. She liked seeing him here, in her apartment. He was being strangely (and wonderfully) sweet. For the first time, Mac looked like he cared. He looked up at her to meet her eyes. Dee marveled at his deep brown eyes, and the concern in them. They just looked at each other for a good two minutes, the air filled with tension.
Wow, her eyes are beautiful, Mac thought. He resigned to the fight. He wasn't going to keep arguing with himself over liking Dee. It was useless. So he was just amazed by her clear blue eyes. His eyes moved over her face, admiring her nice albeit a little long nose, the curve of her lips, her high cheekbones (usually rosy but a little worn today). He wanted to tell her how beautiful he thought she was. He realized that Dee was staring back at him, and suddenly he felt very aware of himself, his chubby cheeks, his scraggly beard, his unkempt hair.
He wondered how Dee felt about him.
Meanwhile, Dee was looking at him, thinking Wow, he really is great-looking. His eyes are so brown, he's so rugged, his smile is so...comforting. She just wanted to run her hands through his hair, so badly. But she realized that he was staring at her, and she remembered that he thought she was ugly because she looked like a giant bird. She chased away her thoughts about Mac because he probably hated her.
Given the large chance that Dee probably felt nothing for him, Mac cleared his throat and broke his stare.
He took Dee's other arm and retrieved more Neosporin. He put a little on his finger and gently outlined Dee's cuts. He concentrated on her soft, perfect skin. He felt the ridges of her scars. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but he could feel her arm tense up a little bit under his touch. "I'm sorry," he said. He expected it to come out normally, but he spoke in barely a whisper.
"That's okay," Dee responded, her voice low and soft as well. After he was finished with the ointment, he picked up a box of Band-Aids and a roll of bandages. He rolled the bandage around her worse arm, slowly and gently. They were both quiet.
Dee was looking at him again. She couldn't help it, he was so hot right now. She didn't tense up because he was hurting her, but because she loved feeling his touch against her skin. Wherever he put his fingers, Dee felt tingly and electric. Mac finished wrapping and secured it with medical tape. "How do you know how to do this?" she wondered aloud.
He cleared his throat. "I used to get hurt a lot in high school, remember? My mom didn't know shit about how to fix me, and I couldn't go to the hospital…so I taught myself."
Dee nodded as he began to put Band-Aids on her other cuts. He worked slowly, and after it was done, he had the strange urge to kiss her bruises. He was still holding her arm, sitting very close to her on the couch. He looked down into her eyes and she met his gaze. This was so weird, so new, so different, so exciting for the both of them.
Dee wanted, needed to say something. "Mac," she whispered, the first thing she could think of to say. He nodded, as if acknowledging his name. "Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded again, leaned forward just a little bit, closed his eyes, and murmured, "No problem…Sweet…Dee." They could feel each other's warm breath: courage laced with alcohol.
Their foreheads were touching just slightly, and Dee's straight blond hair was hanging a little bit onto his face. Mac thought about how good she smelled, somehow a perfect mixture of apples and beer. He took her stray hair and tucked it behind her ear, and let his hand rest on her cheek. He thought about how badly he wanted to kiss her.
"Mac," Dee repeated. She really could not think of anything else to say. All she could think about was how badly she wanted to kiss him.
"Dee," Mac said quietly. "I'm sorry if this hurts you." He pulled her face closer to his and finally pressed his lips on hers. He kept his hand on her face and kissed her. He started to panic when it seemed like she wasn't responding, but then she parted her lips and kissed him back. She put her hand on his neck and welcomed his lips. She moved slightly closer to him so their knees were touching.
His stubbly beard scratched her face, but she liked it. All her inebriation melted away. They stopped kissing, but their lips lingered on each other. They were just paused there, their lips still touching but not kissing. Then Mac kept kissing her, on her nose, on her cheeks, on her jawbone, on her beautiful slender neck. He sated his curiosity and explored her face and neck. Dee closed her eyes, soaking in Mac's wonderful touch.
Mac had been with plenty of other girls, some of which he was not proud of (ahem, Margaret McPoyle), but they were all different from Dee. Dee was fiery, energetic, funny, stupid, and beautiful. She was one of Mac's best friends, although he would never admit that to Dennis or Charlie. Dee was so strange yet familiar to him. He had feelings for her that he never had before, with anyone. Mac drew back from Dee so their noses were touching. Her hands were still clasped around his neck, pulling him close to her.
"I…I thought you would rather be shot in the face, Mac," Dee said, in a regular tone, slightly accusatory.
"Shut up, just shut up Dee," Mac said, chuckling.
"I will not shut up! Do not tell me to shut up, assface!" Dee said, suddenly enraged. She stood up and yelled, "I knew it. I knew you were still the same dickhole!" Mac stood up and pulled her face back to him and kissed her again, this time much more passionately than the first. Dee submitted easily and kissed him back.
His hands slipped under her shirt and rested on her bare hips. She put her hands on top of his. Mac thought she would push them off, but to his delight, she pushed them further up. Now his hands were supporting her back, and they were still kissing. His lips were greedy on hers; he couldn't get enough of kissing Dee. She tasted wonderful and her lips were so soft. He wondered why he never saw her as this attractive before.
"Sweet Dee," Mac breathed, "Shut up, because you are beautiful...and amazing." Mac whispered, their faces touching. He kissed her lightly and felt her smile under his mouth.
Dee put her bruised hand on Mac's full biceps, admiring how strong and stable his arms were, and most of all how safe she felt in his arms. They pulled back and Dee nuzzled her head in his shoulder while he kissed her neck. "Mac, oh Mac," she moaned softly as Mac's tongue traced her neck.
He couldn't help himself. He picked Dee up and carried her to her bed, where he laid her down gently and climbed on top of her. "Dee," he said softly as he kissed her again and again, his hands eager at her hips. They lingered there but slowly inched upwards.
"Mac, you bitch tits," Dee breathed and tore her shirt off. Mac laughed and wrapped his arms around her.
As they collapsed on the bed, they weren't thinking of tomorrow or yesterday, but they were thinking of that moment. Nothing else mattered.
Let me know what you think, please! I absolutely love Rob Mcelhenney and Kaitlin Olson together, and I definitely harbor a secret wish that Mac and Dee would get together on Sunny. Call me a hopeless romantic, but whatever! :)
"Courage laced with alcohol" is from "Oviedo" by Blind Pilot, an absolutely beautiful song.