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Herc had always said that his son slept like a concrete-dipped log when he put his mind to it, but even Chuck Hansen couldn’t miss someone breaking into his room. Well, it wasn’t actually the breaking in that’d woken him, per say – more the dull thunk of the intruder knocking something over – but still. Chuck surfaced reluctantly out of a heavy, viscous sleep, a groan tearing itself from his throat as he pawed at his gummy eyes.
‘What the fuck?’ he mumbled, his heavy tongue mashing the words together.
The shadowy form shifted in an awkward, apologetic movement, and with just that Chuck knew that the trespasser was none other than Raleigh Bloody Becket. He’d seen the movement often enough, in the awkward months right after the shitshow of Pitfall and the various broken bones which had come along with it. The bloody idiot had been too honourable to be a dick when Chuck was hobbling through the halls of the Shatterdome, even when he’d tried to be deliberately annoying. (Chuck had been reluctantly impressed. There’d never been anyone he couldn’t deliberately annoy before.) Whenever the wanker had seen Chuck swearing at his traitor leg or wrestling with the devil’s contraption the fuckwits in medical called a ‘crutch’ he’d seemed almost guilty, and Chuck hadn’t known what to do with that.
Which seemed to be a common theme.
‘Mate, why are you in my bloody room?’ Chuck asked after a few awkward moments of mutual staring. His vision was beginning to adjust, and he could see the dark smudge of bags under Raleigh’s eyes, black against his pale skin.
‘I thought…’ He trailed off, his mouth twisting up to the side. When he spoke again his voice was that weirdly, stupidly familiar blend of self-deprecating and exhausted. ‘I thought you were dead.’
Chuck snorted immediately. ‘Yeah, nah, fuck that, mate. Not likely. Who’d be around to kick your ass at sparring then, ay?’
Unfortunately, Raleigh didn’t quite smirk, but he did roll his eyes. Chuck would freely admit that he liked the wanker’s smirk. It made him look like a dickhead, and Chuck liked dickheads.
‘Mako,’ Raleigh said. ‘And you’ve never beaten me.’
‘You just wait, Ray.’
The wanker looked away and shook his head, but Chuck could clearly see the smirk longing to form. Why Raleigh didn’t let it, he wasn’t sure, but had an inkling it was to do with the bags beneath his eyes and his presence in Chuck’s room at fuck-off-o’clock in the morning.
He didn’t really know how to feel about Raleigh dreaming about him being dead. Maybe it’d been a good dream. Hell, maybe it’d been such a good dream Becket was there to make it a reality. However, if that was the case, Chuck sort of felt like Raleigh would’ve jumped him by this point.
Chuck had been known to sleep through being physically shaken by the shoulders. A speedy stab with a knife would be a doozy.
‘Well, uh, I’d better – go,’ Raleigh said, jerking one thumb of his shoulders, already half-turned away. Chuck’s eyes darted down to the American wanker’s feet and he frowned.
‘Oi, Ray, you can’t walk around the Shatterdome like that.’
Raleigh paused. His shoulders looked smaller without their customary ugly PPDC sweater, and his maroon trakkies were thin and worn. Chuck was shivering under two doonas, even in a lumpy grey sweatshirt - the bloody drongo wasn’t even wearing socks, for God’s sake.
Still, Raleigh didn’t seem to see the problem. He turned back to give Chuck a confused look, devoid of the wary hostility which had used to accompany the expression.
‘Dressed like what?’
‘Like a sheila at the beach in summer!’ Chuck snapped. He sat up in order to better glare at Raleigh, his dog tags swinging. Raleigh still looked bemused, so Chuck snorted again and flipped back his doonas.
‘Christ, you’re slow,’ he said. ‘Get in before you bloody freeze, Rahleigh.’
So maybe he had motivations other than Raleigh’s comfort. He was bloody sick of shivering every sleeping minute.
Raleigh dithered for a moment longer, and Chuck jerked his head in impatient command, only for Raleigh to inch closer like Chuck was a standoffish cassowary. Chuck gave a disgusted sigh and muttered ‘Not going to bite, mate,’ to which Raleigh pulled an unimpressed look, but it resulted in him finally climbing in so Chuck counted it as a victory.
Shuffling over to allow more room, Chuck congratulated himself on his plan. It was already clear that Raleigh was as big and warm as he’d hoped, and to top it off, he smelled good – like spice and sandalwood. Still mostly in the hazy place on the edge of sleep, and looking forwards to tipping over it, after pulling the doonas back up Chuck felt a distinct lack of shame in winding one arm around Raleigh’s solid waist and pressing his face into the back of his neck. It felt like the first time he’d been properly warm in years.
Raleigh’s small huff of laughter caught Chuck’s fading attention and he raised his head, eyes heavy, to see Raleigh smirking at him over his shoulder. Bloody finally.
‘Never would’ve pegged you for such an aggressive cuddler,’ Raleigh said, clearly amused. Chuck grinned back at him.
‘I’m full of surprises, mate.’
Raleigh’s smirk faded into something softer. ‘Yeah, I noticed,’ he replied, before reaching over to cup Chuck’s jaw in his hand and kiss him gently in a quick brush of warmth. Chuck could only stare back at him, wide-eyed, too shocked to react.
Unexpected. One bloody way to describe that.
So maybe they didn’t exactly have brawls in the hallways any more, and their sniping never had any real heat behind it, and Raleigh did all this dumb nice shit for him like carrying Chuck’s stuff around (if he let him), and Chuck’s usually explosive anger could be kept in check with a single look from the wanker. So what if Chuck had found himself seeking Raleigh’s company more and more often? So what if he’d bullheadedly avoided the thought of never seeing him again after the Shatterdome closed down? So what if he sometimes sort of wanted to lick him?
Yeah, alright, so maybe Chuck wasn’t that surprised by his own feelings. And, honestly, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and question Raleigh’s.
The cocky bastard stroked his thumb over Chuck’s dimple once before turning back to settle down. Smugness pretty much emanated from him, but so did warmth, and Chuck was too sleepy and too cold to resist snuggling back in. He supposed he could put up with some dickishness if he got a hot water bottle in the bargain. And as for the kissing…well, that wasn’t such a hardship.
Chuck allowed himself a small smile against the soft, short hairs at the back of Raleigh’s neck. Probably able to feel the curve of his mouth against his skin, Raleigh shifted sleepily, and Chuck felt fuzzy when the idiot’s big hand slid down his arm to lace their fingers together.
‘You think you’re real bloody cute, dontcha,’ he mumbled.
Raleigh’s blonde hair brushed Chuck’s nose as he shook his head in exasperation. Huffing a sleepy laugh, Chuck pressed his lips to the skin behind the curve of his ear as he added, ‘S’good I think so too, then.’
‘I hate Australia,’ Raleigh muttered near-intelligibly.
Chuck screwed up his face, offended. ‘I hate you.’
The big shoulders shook and Chuck levered himself up onto an elbow, irritated. He scowled as Raleigh snickered like the fucking shit he was. Eventually he quieted, though the teasing smirk didn’t disappear. Chuck raised his eyebrows down at him.
‘You done, mate?’
‘Sure,’ Raleigh grinned, and Chuck tried to pretend that the sight of Raleigh Becket sprawled beneath him, smiling lopsidedly, didn’t soften his glare. ‘It’s just, Herc told me that pretty much means I love you in Australia.’
Chuck spared a moment to send dark, dark thoughts in his traitor dad’s direction, before he grabbed Raleigh’s face in his hand. The sight of Raleigh’s surprised expression as his cheeks were mashed up unattractively pretty much flipped Chuck’s mood and he grinned down at him.
‘Shut your dumbass face,’ he warned. He darted a quick kiss to Raleigh’s squished-up mouth and flopped back down beside him. Raleigh grouched beneath his breath, probably some piss-poor American insult, but cuddled back against Chuck willingly enough.
‘You're still a brat, kid.’
‘You're still a bitch, Ray.’
Chuck fell asleep smiling.