“All right,” Dennis says, shutting the door to the office and leaning back against it. “What’s up?”
Mac’s stood in front of the desk, tapping his fingers on his thighs restlessly - when he sees Dennis he lets out a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay, good. So you got my signal.”
Dennis squints at him.
“You texted me.”
“Yeah,” Mac says, frowning. “That counts as a signal, Dennis, it’s not - look, doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”
Dennis‘ heartbeat jumps into his throat.
“About what?”
Mac crosses his arms. He exhales. Then:
“You haven’t kissed me all day, dude.”
Dennis stares at him.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s been twenty five hours,” Mac says. “I mean - technically twenty four and some minutes? But I couldn’t figure that shit out so I just rounded up -“
“Jesus christ,” Dennis says, faintly.
“And my point is,” Mac continues, apparently determined to soldier on, “that that’s - that’s a long time. And you haven’t said anything about it, so if you’re pissed about something you should just tell me now, and then we can -“
“And why couldn’t you do the kissing, exactly?”
“‘Well,” Mac says. “I mean. ‘Cause I want you to do it.”
There’s a short pause.
“You want me to do it,” Dennis repeats, slowly.
“Yeah,” says Mac. He lifts his chin; the way he does when he’s feeling stubborn. “Look, can you just…”
“What?”
“Dennis,” Mac says, his voice bordering on irritated, “come on -“
Messing with Mac would be easier to resist if he didn’t blush so much, Dennis reflects. A lot of things would be easier to resist if Mac didn’t blush so much. As it is he pushes off the door and walks forward to put his hands on Mac’s chest, curling his fingers lightly into Mac’s shirt.
“Sure you don’t want to?” he murmurs, tilting his head just so and letting their lips almost touch. Mac shudders.
“Stop being an asshole about it,” he says, sounding breathless, “and just -“
“Relax,” Dennis tells him - and a little extra teasing can’t hurt, this close to the finish line. He smoothes his hands over Mac’s shirt once more before cupping his cheeks, relishing the way Mac’s breathing catches. “Relax, baby boy. You think I’d leave you hanging?”
“Yes,” Mac mutters. He’s closed his eyes. The blush is getting stronger by the second. Dennis can’t help it: he strokes his thumb over Mac’s stained-pink cheeks, and when he tilts his head and presses their mouths together Mac lets out a low little sound and leans into him, swaying on his feet. It’s warm and slow. Mac bites gently at his bottom lip and moans when Dennis’ tongue brushes up against his, when Dennis’ hands slip into his hair. Dennis pushes closer until Mac takes a step backwards and hits the desk - he lets Dennis crowd him up against it until Dennis can feel the line of Mac’s body pressed hot against his. Mac’s hands are sliding over his jean-covered thighs like they’d prefer to be underneath.
“There,” Dennis says tartly, pulling away. “All better.”
Mac’s cheeks somehow redden even more.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” Mac waves one hand in the air, vague and incredibly unhelpful. “Like that.”
“Like what?” Dennis repeats - he can feel the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, and he knows that’s what gives him away. Mac shoves his shoulder.
“You’re a dick,” he mutters. Dennis huffs out a laugh as he leans in to kiss him again.
