Author's Apologetic Note: Almost two months. That's got to be the longest I've ever gone without updating a Mac & Krystal fic. I'm sorry!
There's new links in my author's about me section for examples of what Haus looks like and Krystal's ring. (I really wish ff would get with it and allow images and links to be inserted in a chapter like AO3 does. BTW I am now on AO3 if you guys want the deluxe version of my writing. Same pen name.)
The scream that woke her was so high pitched Krystal thought Mac had snapped sometime during the morning while she'd caught up on her sleep. She imagined a female of some kind bleeding all over her kitchen floor. Until she smelt the familiar odor of Mac's hangover breath wafting into her stream of inhaled air.
"Tha fuck was that?" came a groggy irritated snarl from on top of her as he shifted his weight and cringed at the pain shooting through his head.
"My best guess is Richie opened Pandora's Tupperware." she mumbled as the sound of the back door slamming shut came next.
Clicking nails on the hardwood and then the rhythmic thump of a happy tail wagging against her nightstand told her someone was optimistically waiting for their late breakfast. Kristy turned her head towards the noise, her eyes a bit blurry as they squinted against the bright winter sun. Slowly focusing to make out Haus' large head resting on the edge of the bed while he panted happily at her. What was resting on the comforter an inch from the dog's mouth made her eyes shoot wide open. The pooch looked at her and then the frozen penis, letting out a little whine like he wanted to play. But as with all his 'toys' Haus snatched it up just as she began to reach for it, loping away into the hallway with the severed phallus hanging out of his mouth.
"Mac don't get out of bed until I say." she ordered in a groan, only to look down and find him in no condition to move.
After she wrestled his father's penis from his dog, she added bringing him some water and a few aspirin to her morning tasks.
"Take these." she commanded, watching as he groped around blindly for the pills nestled in her hand, not bothering to open his eyes and look.
"Jesus" she huffed, lifting his head with a squeezing hand around his jaw until his mouth opened.
She dropped the white tablets into his putrid maw, following them up with carefully poured water. Apparently not careful enough because he started coughing like mad after the first few gulps. She waited patiently, smacking his back while he choked and regained the ability to breathe. His watery blue eyes cracked open at her, wincing again as his head pounded and he looked up at her. Pathetically cute and miserable.
'Why does he have to look so damn adorable while he's being so incompetent. I never wanted a kid but somehow I ended up stuck with a foul-mouthed five foot eleven killer toddler.'
"Drink more, you're dehydrated." she urged, forcing the glass towards his face until he took it himself and chugged down the contents while she protested.
"You're going to barf if you drink it that fast!"
Mac let out a rumbling belch when he finished. Unconcerned about burping up into her now scowling face. He gave her one of his dingy shit-head grins and grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the bed so he could have his body-pillow back. She went willingly, letting herself get arranged for his comfort.
"Wuts tha plan fer today?" he grunted out once his head was agreeably situated on her chest, squishing her left boob without a care.
Kristy had to turn her face away for a second to catch some fresh air as he breathed open-mouthed up towards her. Normally she could tolerate the smell but it doubled in repulsiveness when he'd been drinking and had yet to brush his teeth. Something she no longer nagged about because of his insecurities in regards to the state of his chompers. Every time she tentatively said something and that embarrassed look colored his face she would regret it immediately. So she let it be. She figured if they all rotted out of his mouth she'd buy him new ones. Besides sparing his feelings, she secretly enjoyed the look his decaying mouth gave off. Something she'd never admitted to him in fear that he'd stop brushing them altogether if he knew.
"You're going to stay here and sleep off your hangover while I head out to the cave and get to work." she replied while moving to run her fingers through his bed-ruffled hair.
"You're off from work again, I'm using Richie for a lookout while I cook. He just doesn't know it yet. I should probably call and tell him so before he goes and opens the auto shop…" she rambled on, not moving to do so, continuing to play with his hair.
She felt Mac's face scrunch up in dislike against her skin.
"Wut tha hell 'm I sposta do all day?" he inquired with a bit of sass, unhappy to be left alone while she was out with Richie again.
Her mind raced to come up with tasks that needed doing and enjoyable non-productive things he could do. She was beyond relieved that he wasn't pushing to be out there with her while she worked. She didn't need him falling off the wagon after the hell she'd gone through to get him off the shit. She'd love to believe in him, believe he could resist the temptation of fresh meth sitting right there in front of him. But self control was not one of his strong points.
"You could get high, watch tv, wash the dishes, start packing our things up for the move, play with Haus, take a ride in your new truck." she suggested, his head perking up a little at her reminder of the scratched red step-side sitting in the driveway, making a small smile appear on his face.
With all the insanity that'd spawned from their attempt at anal sex he'd completely forgotten about his other birthday present.
"The key is hanging on the last coat hook next to the backdoor." she informed him with a larger smile as he squeezed her in the form of a silent "thank you".
They laid there quietly for a few minutes with Mac letting out little hiccupped burps here and there while his stomach gurgled violently. Until she remembered the task she'd given him for the day before.
"Did you happen to get around to picking out a name?" she questioned, shifting under him a little as her leg began falling asleep.
"Corleone-." he offered, his next words getting choked back with something else threatening to come up his throat.
Her eyes widened as she watched him choke it down, her alarm lessening when he looked like he'd successfully contained his up-chuck back into his stomach.
"I take it you guys had a Godfather marathon?" she chuckled, hoping he wasn't actually serious.
She could pass for Italian but she didn't quite think Mac fit the stereotype. She was picturing him with black slicked back mobster hair when he spewed without warning. Hot chunks of digested dinner, stomach bile, and unabsorbed liquor flooded her neck and chest. Even a little splashing up onto her face while he vomited exorcist style. Despite puke running down her skin onto the bedding, when he started dry heaving she reached out to push his hair back off his forehead, trying to soothe him. When he was finished he pushed himself up on shaky weak arms, looking down at her with fear in his eyes, just staring at the spot where her clavicles met in the middle of her spew-covered neck.
"You fucking little shit. Look at you! What are you a dumb animal, puking all over yourself? Fuck! Go clean yourself up you nasty little bastard." She screamed at the small feverish child laying in a puddle of his own vomit, too achingly sick to even move.
More cursing and then he felt his arm being pulled, his little body being drug with jerking force. So hard he felt a pain tear through his shoulder. More pain as his head smacked against the porcelain of a bathtub. Freezing water lapping at his filthy pajamas, rising and chilling him like a ton of ice cubes being pressed against his body all at once. He's too weak to even scream at the stinging cold. Soon it's so deep he can't breathe anymore. He goes to sleep with a hand on his chest pushing him down. He wakes up with water choking from his mouth and something painfully harsh scraping against his skin.
"Mac! Hello?" she tried again as a small gag slipped out, waving a hand in front of his face while more of his sick sunk underneath her and into the sheets.
He blinked a time or two and his eyes seemed to focus, looking even more terrified than before. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed a little.
"Vodka huh?" she noted with sarcastic humor, remembering that she'd left them with only beer, betting Richie was to blame. "Do you at least feel better now?"
He weakly nodded, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they swept over her face repeatedly. Making her brow wrinkle in confusion at his odd behavior.
"It's okay, shit happens." she offered through a choking cough brought on my her lurching stomach, thinking perhaps he was afraid she'd be pissed.
While it wasn't a pleasant experience, it wasn't like she was going to beat him for throwing up on her. If anything it drew another parallel to her earlier thought of him being her little man-toddler, almost making her let out a cynical laugh. She didn't understand his bizarre reaction.
"When we move lets just leave the bed here." she suggested as he got up and freed her, watching as he stumbled his way towards the bathroom.
She let herself go completely once he was gone. Gagging and retching so hard her stomach threatened to heave itself. A jarring weight on the other side of the bed was felt before she heard a lapping tongue from where she was seated on the edge of the bed.
"God damn it Haus NO!" she bellowed with a preventative hand held over her mouth.
Trying to shoo the behemoth off made him take it as a chance to play, bounding all over the bed and spreading the vomit everywhere.
"Just another day in paradise." she grumbled to herself, using the sheet to wipe her chest off as she rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and an insane smile spread across her face.
"Push the button, that one right there." she insisted, pointing towards the red circle protruding from the dashboard.
Mac looked at her skeptically from the driver's seat of his new baby. Leery that the button would trigger something that would pop out at him for her own personal entertainment.
"Push the fucking button Mac." she growled, pinching him on his denim covered thigh when he looked at her accusingly again.
"Fuck woman, alright..goddamn.." he grumbled, smacking her claws away before hesitantly raising a finger towards the button.
He pressed it in, flinching for a millisecond before the General Lee's Dixie-horn-anthem blared out from underneath the hood like a redneck mating call. The smile that cut across his face was so huge it was ridiculous. He pushed it again, excitedly bouncing in his seat a little as the horn sounded once more
"Happy Birthday, Mackie." she snickered, pulling him down to her level before smashing her lips to his roughly and taking off just as fast.
Mac watched her go, not bothering to even scowl at his hated nickname. Too happy to be bothered by it. As he watched her climb up into the Denali he got that sickening fluttery feeling in his stomach again. One that had nothing to do with borderline alcohol poisoning. A loopy smile spread across his face when he imagined himself bitching at a bar like all the other married guys.
"Ma fuckin' wife man. Ma wife. Ma wife's a crazy bitch. Ma wife." he babbled to himself, enjoying the way the title rolled off his tongue.
He paused in his dorky indulgence, eyes widening when he realized what he'd forgotten. He'd been so swept up in the awe of her actually saying yes he'd completely overlooked a very important detail. The ring. The circular band that would shackle her to him. He had half a mind to engrave "property of Mac" on the outside for good measure.
Mac opened the truck's tailgate, heading for the backdoor where an excited mongrel awaited him.
"Ya wanna go fer a ride jackass?" he cooed at the dog in a gruff way, the closest he'd ever get to the disgusting baby-talk Krystal used with the mutt. "'Course ya do, ya fuckin' fleebag." he teased through the glass panel, making Haus wiggle his butt and whine to be let out.
As soon as the door opened he was just a flash of brindle fur, bolting straight for the open driver's door as apposed to the designated truck bed.
"Aw fuck cummon." he hollered as the dog made himself right at home in the cab of the truck, slobber and muddy paw prints decorating the new upholstery.
When Mac reached the open door a tail started thumping against the seat but Haus' head was pointed downwards, brown eyes looking up at him in the universal canine expression of guilt. With a grumble about taking him out back like Ol' Yeller he climbed in, shaking his head at the nose prints now smudging the passenger window.
"When Krys gets home yer gettin' a bath." he threatened as the truck lurched forward, letting out an evil laugh as the happy tail stopped and the behemoth cocked his head in worry.
He didn't have any special love for animals, that was for sure. But he did have a soft spot for his dog. A little bit of sadness pricked him as he drove and the memory of his late pooch Gunner came to mind. Devon had been lucky he'd been too fucked up after the fall to get him back for that one. Back then Mac hadn't had much. And that vicious animal had been his only real friend. Even though he'd liked to lie to himself and tell himself the dog was only for protection.
As they pulled up to their destination another whine came from beside him, making him pat the dog's head after he put the truck in park. They both sat there for a few moments, staring at the hovel in front of them. The dirtied once white paint peeling away to reveal bare rotting boards, the front window he'd punched out in a rage and boarded up half-assed, general debris and garbage littering the front porch and yard.
Mac hadn't been back there since the day Krystal had insisted he stop beating around the bush and just move the rest of his crap up to her house. He'd been in denial that he was actually living with her. Uncomfortable with the intimate fact back when he was still trying to resist the transition of his new life.
It seemed so stupid to him now, all the pussyfooting and stalling he'd done. He should have just moved in the night she'd untied him from her bed. All his resistance just looked like a waste of time now through his changed eyes.
"Les go!" he barked when he found Haus hadn't moved to get out, his comically large body barely fitting on the width of the seat.
Haus let out a long yowling whine, communicating in his odd dog talk that he was not keen on moving back to the dump his master was headed for.
"Bath." Mac growled at him, standing back as the coward bounded off the truck bench at the hated word.
His boots felt like they weighed a ton as he reluctantly ascended the concrete steps. He'd bought the decrepit house as soon as he'd had enough money. He'd been nowhere near old enough to legally buy the property but the druggy owner hadn't cared. It'd been his sanctuary, his well earned place of peace and a shelter from Walter's assault. But as he'd soon learned, there was no getting away from his nightmares when he'd slept. Now the dwelling before him was just a grungy reminder of his lonely painful past.
The lockless door swung open when he pushed, revealing the living room and kitchen which still held an array of broken furniture and empty liquor bottles. It looked so strange now with its walls bare and empty of his sketches. Even more holes showing now that there weren't scribbled on pieces of paper to cover them.
In the kitchen he glanced at the scale that used to hold a piece of pizza as he passed. Now it held a lump of rotted and disintegrated mush.
He made his way to what used to be his bedroom. The sight of the dirty mattress in the corner making him pause. He stood there thinking of how many countless days he'd spent alone on that mattress, spun out with a stack of paper and a piece of charcoal. Wasting his life wallowing in the high. Even though he was looking back on his tweaker days with distain the craving still shot through him. Making him long for the exhilarating rush. His fingers twitched faintly, instinctively feeling for the familiar outline of a tin in his pocket.
The sound of trickling liquid mercifully snapped him out of his romanticized haze. A look over his shoulder told him Haus was voicing his dislike of the place in his own way. Mac switched to thinking about the come-downs. The days of crashing from sleep deprivation. The headaches and the hallucinations. The gripping paranoia that sent him peeking out windows no matter how exhausted he was. He got his feet moving while his mind moved to the painful pussing sores he'd created picking at his own skin. As he knelt down at the open closet doorway he thought about the worst physical damage his addiction had caused. His teeth.
He ran his tongue along them as he pried a loose floorboard away. The ones he wasn't missing were tinged black with decay. Not being able to eat hard foods without pain was the least of their burdens on him. He tried not to give a shit about the looks he got in public when he opened his mouth. Not that it mattered what people thought of him. He just hated the stares. He didn't know how Krystal handled the ones she got constantly for her face.
Krystal. The way she'd gagged into his mouth at the first forced taste he'd given her. He couldn't comprehend how she could stand to kiss him either. The flavor alone was enough to make him want to cut his own tongue out. Let alone the smell that wafted out every time he spoke or even breathed.
His self loathing and hatred for the drug that'd made him that way continued as he fished around for the tin can he'd hidden down below. When his fingertips found it he bent lower, hauling the extra large coffee can up with two hands to heft the weight. The plastic lid was peeled away to reveal his hidden treasure. Countless pieces of jewelry he'd collected over the years from unfortunate women who'd crossed his path.
He sat back against the wall, dumping the glimmering contents out between his spread legs, pawing through it as he tried to separate the rings from tangled necklaces and jumbled bracelets. As he gazed down at the pile he constructed the varying sizes looking back at him made him realize he had absolutely no idea what size would fit on Krystal's finger. He started trying them on, sorting them by how far down his finger they would go. He figured her ring finger was about a little bigger than his pinky. And by the time he was finished he had a small selection to pick from that might fit.
Said selection made him frown. They were all either fake costume jewelry or traditional diamond rings. He was going to settle for a tiny princess cut one and started throwing all the jewelry back in the can when a ring fell from the snared necklaces. It was definitely different. It looked a little big but the personality of the piece won him over.
"Ya think she'll like it?" he inquired to the mutt who'd come to lay beside him, holding it out for Haus to sniff in confusion.
He laid his head back down, uninterested in something that wasn't meant to be played with or eaten. Tucking the tin under his arm and his chosen band into his pocket, Mac took one last look at the place that was nothing but a reminder of bad times.
A deviant and fulfilling idea struck him as he remembered the gas can Krystal had included in the back of his new truck's bed. Along with a tire jack, jumper cables, and road flairs. If he knew her well enough, which he was willing to bet his left nut that he did. That gas can would be full, just in case.
A full smile ripped across his face and he made a bee-line for the truck, opening the door for Haus before closing him in safely with the coffee can. Mac hauled the gas can out, cursing at its sloshing weight making his back twinge as he walked. The stench of gasoline was hanging heavy in the air by the time he was done dousing the walls and floors. And he was giddy with excitement to burn the shithole down. He extracted his pack of smokes first, pulling out one of his 'special' cigarettes in celebration. After a few tokes he was ready to watch the show, lighting a piece of crumpled up newspaper before throwing it into the doorway and running like he expected it to blow.
Disappointment ran through him when nothing happened. Then all at once the house was in flames, the rotting wood catching easily even though it had a helping hand from copious amounts of gasoline. When it went up with an audible "woosh" Mac literally cheered, jumping up and down with his fists in the air and a joint hanging out of his mouth.
He climbed in the truck, pleased to see it had working heat to warm his freezing fingers while he hot-boxed the poor dog in with him and they watched the shack burn. He felt he was truly ready to move on as he watched the frame of the structure collapse in on itself.
"No matter what, above all else, tourists, cops. Whatever. Do not let Mac in this cave. Do you hear me?" Kristy demanded, waiting until she got a nod before pulling the mask down over her face and beginning her work.
That'd been hours ago. And Richie was getting bored out of his mind just sitting there watching the light fade from the entrance hole. He probably dozed off sometime without either of them noticing because a kick to his booted foot woke him with a start. He was bumbling to grab the gun Kristy had allotted him until a familiar voice sounded out.
"Yer a shit guard dog, ya know that?" Mac snickered, moving to pass him and enter the chamber he knew would hold his busy bee.
"Stop! Ya can't be goin' in there!" Richie screamed, trying to grab onto Mac's pant-leg and scramble to his feet all at once.
"Why 'n tha hell not?" he snarled when the bigger man actually pushed him back towards the entrance, ready to stab him if he put his hands on him again.
"She said so." he supplied, backing up a little as Mac got that look in his eye.
"Bullshit. Krys!…Krystal!" Mac roared, trying to sidestep Richie, getting blocked every time by the larger man's width.
She rounded the corner in her full biohazard suit, ripping her mask off to reveal a beet red panicked face. She didn't even scream at Richie, just taking hold of Mac's arm and forcefully steering him towards the faint light of the exit. Ignoring his sputtering curses and confusion at being thrown out. Once he was safely outside the tunnel's mouth she released him.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she snapped, looking up at his slightly crestfallen face.
"Made ya dinner." he snapped back, holding up a brown paper bag for her to see. "Why tha fuck aint I allowed in tha cave?" he questioned dejectedly, looking much like a little boy who just got thrown out of his clubhouse by the bigger kids.
She let out a sad sigh, not wanting to admit her weak faith of his willpower. A little smile perked up her tired face as she glanced at the bag. She held up one gloved finger as she started walking away.
"I've got Hydrogen Chloride bubbling through a batch and I can't just leave it. Give me a minute and I'll meet you in the truck." she yelled over her shoulder, leaving him there mulling it over.
While waiting in the toasty cab he figured out why he was banned for himself. He didn't hold it against her one bit. He was actually pretty grateful for her sharp minded thinking as he felt the itch return. Having not even thought of that because of how excited he was to see her after a day of being apart. His leg started bouncing as the temptation started setting in. He was relieved to see her emerging from the entrance with the hazmat suit gone and her black wool pea-coat wrapped around her.
When the door was shut behind her the truck was filled with the scent of ammonia, teasing him with its familiar smell. She was sniffing the air herself, her head snapping in his direction.
"You smell like smoke and gasoline. What did you do?" she sharply accused, narrowing her reprimanding eyes at him as she took another deep inhale.
He let out a chuckle, throwing the paper bag her way.
"Jus burnin' sum demons." he replied cryptically, watching as her face crumpled into a scowl. "Burnt ma old house down" he confessed when she continued staring at him with that hard look.
She visibly relaxed, slouching down into the truck's bench seat with relief. Since he'd apparently chosen to fill his day with arson she figured there was still a sink full of dirty dishes waiting for her at home.
The brown paper bag in her lap was torn into with a ravenous manner, thanks in large part to her forgetting to pack lunches. What was inside made her cackle loudly. A double stacked bologna and mayo sandwich encased in saran wrap. The food she hated most in the world thanks to eating it for days on end when he'd been trying to trap her crazy ass. She smiled down at the sandwich fondly before doing the same to him. His stupid grin told her he was thinking the exact same thing.
"Was wonderin'.." he began as she busied herself with unwrapping her dinner. "..when we got money an we're settled inta tha new place an alla that…could I maybe..git ma teeth fixed..'er get new ones 'er wutever they do?" he asked as she took her first gulping bite out of a corner.
"I ike er eeth." she admitted through her frowning mouthful, going against her earlier resolution to never tell him so.
She swallowed the bite down whole, hurriedly clearing her mouth so she could talk. He had a flat look on his face that bordered on pissed off disbelief.
"I mean unless they're hurting you I'd rather you didn't. I like the way they look." she insisted, watching as he turned his face away and shook his head before she took another cringing bite.
"'S nice, ya tryina make me feel better. But I aint stupid." he murmured as he gazed out the window, sure there was no way in hell she could be serious.
She took another bite and started chewing as she thought of how to convince him. Finding it extremely ridiculous that she had to in the first place.
"You like my scars, I like your meth teeth, get over i- Aahhh." she yelled out in pain mid-argument, holding her throbbing jaw while spitting a wad of black metal out of her mouth.
'That's what I get for chewing that nasty shit instead of just swallowing it.' she thought as she cringed at the pain now shooing through her own teeth.
Kristy slowly turned her head towards Mac, hand still holding her mouth a she gave him her most serious "What the fuck?" look. He reached over, picking the ring out of the ball of mushy bread and bologna she'd spit out. Holding it up for her to see as he gave her a sheepish look that meant he knew he was in trouble.
"Alla tha guys in tha movies put tha ring in food. Didn' even thinka that…" he trailed off, watching as her expression softened a little.
She let out a sigh through her nose along with her anger, her heart giving a little squeezing flutter at Mac's failed first attempt at romance. Kristy gave him a small smile, wincing at the shooting pains racing through her gums. It was endearing that he'd tried.
He took her hand, sliding the ring down her finger with an exhale of relief when it fit with a little room to spare. He watched her study it, hoping he'd done alright picking one out.
Kristy brought her hand closer to inspect, admiring the winding pieces woven to hold five rubies in their black-gold band. Making a cutout pattern setting for the gems that she enjoyed through the bits and pieces of food still clinging to it. It was intricate and simple all at once and undeniably expensive. She fleetingly wondered which one of his victims it had come from before she dismissed the thought, not really caring.
"'F ya don' like it there's this one too." he offered nervously, pulling the mundane diamond one out for her to see.
She shook her head rapidly before he even finished his sentence, absolutely enthralled by the unconventional band seated on her left hand. In her opinion it was dark and beautiful, just like their relationship.
Her already watery eyes overflowed and she mentally cursed whatever was making her so weepy as of late. With a sniffle and a coat sleeve wiped across her cheeks she scooted over across the bench. Nudging his arm out of the way, silently telling him she wanted closer to his body.
Despite the pain and tears she doubted she'd ever been happier than she was in that moment.