Cʜᴀʀʟᴇs 'C H U C K' Hᴀɴsᴇɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
suicidemission) wrote2013-10-30 02:58 pm
suicidemission) wrote2013-10-30 02:58 pm
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[ Chuck’s seconds from bitching Raleigh out and really laying into him for being a tease because seriously you can’t just – can’t just suck on the head of someone’s dick like that and then pull off it’s cruel and it’s not fair and if he didn’t wanna fuckin’ do this then he shouldn’t have encouraged Chuck to fuck with him, stroke him like he had and he damn sure shouldn’t have kissed him like that, either.
But then he’s using his hand (it’s warm, a little calloused, but firm and Chuck feels shivery in his own body, skin tight over muscle and bone and tendon) and coming back, licking and saying shit Chuck doesn’t care about--
He makes a startled, strangled noise somewhere in the back of his throat when Raleigh practically swallows him whole and yeah, his hands move from the sheets to the back of Raleigh’s head, fingers tangling in his blond hair.
Stupid Raleigh Becket and his stupid tongue and his stupid hot, wet mouth and Christ that feels so damn good that Chuck’s wriggling already, toes curling and fingers tugging and hips lifting just a little. ]
Christ—
[ He barks, choking back any more humiliating noises, grip tightening. ]
But then he’s using his hand (it’s warm, a little calloused, but firm and Chuck feels shivery in his own body, skin tight over muscle and bone and tendon) and coming back, licking and saying shit Chuck doesn’t care about--
He makes a startled, strangled noise somewhere in the back of his throat when Raleigh practically swallows him whole and yeah, his hands move from the sheets to the back of Raleigh’s head, fingers tangling in his blond hair.
Stupid Raleigh Becket and his stupid tongue and his stupid hot, wet mouth and Christ that feels so damn good that Chuck’s wriggling already, toes curling and fingers tugging and hips lifting just a little. ]
Christ—
[ He barks, choking back any more humiliating noises, grip tightening. ]
Edited 2013-10-30 19:44 (UTC)
[ Who says he doesn't want to? Raleigh is absolutely with the program here, if the way he closes his eyes and jacks his hand up to meet his mouth is any indication, Raleigh's own cock achingly, shockingly hard at the weight and feel of Chuck on his tongue. He wants to do this, and he's -- grateful Chuck wants this too, but Christ, even if Chuck hadn't wanted it as much as Raleigh did, Raleigh doesn't think he'd be able to stop.
Chuck gets a hand in his hair, hips tilting up, pushing deeper into Raleigh's mouth; it's perfect, heady and dizzying, and Raleigh's startled out of a pleased noise, sliding his head down-- so he can feel those fingers tug-- until the tip of Chuck hits the back of Raleigh's throat, hands letting go of Chuck's hips to slide around and under Chuck's backside to keep him there.
The stubborn little shit -- Chuck's choking off his noises before Raleigh can hear them for himself, and it's infuriating. Raleigh slides up slow and presses his tongue into the slit to coax some of the sounds Chuck's coveting, shifting so he can grind on the sheets at the same time, face flushing, a slow tide that starts in his cheeks and sweeps down his neck.
Let him hear you, Chuck. ]
Chuck gets a hand in his hair, hips tilting up, pushing deeper into Raleigh's mouth; it's perfect, heady and dizzying, and Raleigh's startled out of a pleased noise, sliding his head down-- so he can feel those fingers tug-- until the tip of Chuck hits the back of Raleigh's throat, hands letting go of Chuck's hips to slide around and under Chuck's backside to keep him there.
The stubborn little shit -- Chuck's choking off his noises before Raleigh can hear them for himself, and it's infuriating. Raleigh slides up slow and presses his tongue into the slit to coax some of the sounds Chuck's coveting, shifting so he can grind on the sheets at the same time, face flushing, a slow tide that starts in his cheeks and sweeps down his neck.
Let him hear you, Chuck. ]
Edited 2013-10-30 20:39 (UTC)
[ He wants to just fuck Raleigh's mouth right now, hold him there by his hair and rock his hips into that tight, wet heat and just keep going, plunging in and in and in again and again and again until he loses his mind and comes down the back of Becket's throat.
That'd be rude as fuck, so he doesn't do it -- instead his hand is fisting in that thick blond hair, hips stuttering a little under Raleigh's mouth as he makes a noise that's somewhere between a whine and a leaked whimper. (He'll deny it's a whimper - it's a manly groan, not any kind of pitiful shit like begging).
But, damn -- Raleigh doesn't play fair and he knows what the fuck he's doing and Chuck gasps, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. ]
Fuck, Raleigh -- goddamn, don't -- don't stop--
That'd be rude as fuck, so he doesn't do it -- instead his hand is fisting in that thick blond hair, hips stuttering a little under Raleigh's mouth as he makes a noise that's somewhere between a whine and a leaked whimper. (He'll deny it's a whimper - it's a manly groan, not any kind of pitiful shit like begging).
But, damn -- Raleigh doesn't play fair and he knows what the fuck he's doing and Chuck gasps, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. ]
Fuck, Raleigh -- goddamn, don't -- don't stop--
Edited 2013-10-31 03:17 (UTC)
[ It's stupid hot, the rasp of Chuck's voice and the whimper that lets Raleigh know he's doing okay, that Chuck's feeling good, even when Raleigh's not done very much yet at all.
Not all that he wants to, anyway, and Raleigh wants, tangibly, for Chuck to fuck his mouth, use him without being so polite about it. He's had enough of Chuck holding himself back.
Raleigh's shuddering, minute shivers trembling across his shoulders, and ducking his head, swallowing in little flutters around the head of him and repeating; throat burning from having Chuck in his mouth. The taste of him all over the inside of Raleigh's mouth is -- a lot to take in, and he closes his eyes to it, breathing in.
He moves his hands, spanning them over Chuck's thighs, spreading them a little wider --
-- and god, Raleigh wants to fuck him. Raleigh has to reach down and steady himself with a hand on the base of his dick at the thought; he's still not sure how far he's allowed to take this. ]
Not all that he wants to, anyway, and Raleigh wants, tangibly, for Chuck to fuck his mouth, use him without being so polite about it. He's had enough of Chuck holding himself back.
Raleigh's shuddering, minute shivers trembling across his shoulders, and ducking his head, swallowing in little flutters around the head of him and repeating; throat burning from having Chuck in his mouth. The taste of him all over the inside of Raleigh's mouth is -- a lot to take in, and he closes his eyes to it, breathing in.
He moves his hands, spanning them over Chuck's thighs, spreading them a little wider --
-- and god, Raleigh wants to fuck him. Raleigh has to reach down and steady himself with a hand on the base of his dick at the thought; he's still not sure how far he's allowed to take this. ]
Edited 2013-10-31 03:54 (UTC)
[ Choking Raleigh isn't on the agenda, alright.
Well -- not today, anyway. Not like this. What he wouldn't give to get his hands around that pretty little throat sometimes, though, squeeze just enough so that Raleigh's pulling a little harder for breath than he needs too, flesh and bone squirming under Chuck's hips, his dick pumping in and out--
Fuck that mental image is almost enough to have Chuck seeing stars and he has to really pull himself back to keep from coming immediately in Raleigh's mouth, without warning.
He's not ready yet. It's too soon, but shit, this isn't - this isn't enough. He wants more, he wants this asshole to fill him up, fuck him senseless, make him his, grip his hips and rock between his thighs-- ]
I--I need--
[ His voice is fucking wrecked, and he tugs sharply on Raleigh's hair, panting and jerking his hips up in reaction to that hand. ]
Well -- not today, anyway. Not like this. What he wouldn't give to get his hands around that pretty little throat sometimes, though, squeeze just enough so that Raleigh's pulling a little harder for breath than he needs too, flesh and bone squirming under Chuck's hips, his dick pumping in and out--
Fuck that mental image is almost enough to have Chuck seeing stars and he has to really pull himself back to keep from coming immediately in Raleigh's mouth, without warning.
He's not ready yet. It's too soon, but shit, this isn't - this isn't enough. He wants more, he wants this asshole to fill him up, fuck him senseless, make him his, grip his hips and rock between his thighs-- ]
I--I need--
[ His voice is fucking wrecked, and he tugs sharply on Raleigh's hair, panting and jerking his hips up in reaction to that hand. ]
[ That image alone would've done it for Raleigh; he'd have come on the sheets without Chuck touching him at all.
As it stands, Raleigh's pulled off from Chuck with a groan of protest on his part, mouth aching and empty and bereft, but he doesn't go down on Chuck again, noses his way up and puts his mouth on the cut of pelvis and sucks the skin there instead, voice raw and well-fucked and wrecked when he says, ] Chuck, what do you want, you need to tell me--
As it stands, Raleigh's pulled off from Chuck with a groan of protest on his part, mouth aching and empty and bereft, but he doesn't go down on Chuck again, noses his way up and puts his mouth on the cut of pelvis and sucks the skin there instead, voice raw and well-fucked and wrecked when he says, ] Chuck, what do you want, you need to tell me--
[ Chuck's shaking from the effort of holding it back -- it's really a herculean (ahah. ahahaha) task, to be honest. ]
I want--
[ He swallows and clears his throat, fingers flexing and gripping at Raleigh's hair, every inch of his skin tingling. ]
I want you to fuck me, mate--think y'can handle that?
I want--
[ He swallows and clears his throat, fingers flexing and gripping at Raleigh's hair, every inch of his skin tingling. ]
I want you to fuck me, mate--think y'can handle that?
[ He's blindsided, cock jerking in the confines of his pants; Raleigh's throat's gone closed off, tight, and his mouth opens soundlessly. ]
Shit, [ Raleigh manages, when he can breathe again-- he shoves himself up off his elbows, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants and shorts to shuck them down, talking all the while. ] Yeah, I think I can handle that. You got condoms? Lube?
Shit, [ Raleigh manages, when he can breathe again-- he shoves himself up off his elbows, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants and shorts to shuck them down, talking all the while. ] Yeah, I think I can handle that. You got condoms? Lube?
Nightstand.
[ He snaps; he's edgy and feeling pretty open and raw. Raleigh's got him nicely spread open on his own bed, clock glistening from his spit and he's just managed to wring a fucking confession (of some kind, or at least got Chuck to admit shit) out of him and Chuck's feeling pretty damn vulnerable.
The removal of the rest of Raleigh's clothes helps. At least then, they're on the same level. ]
In the drawer.
[ He snaps; he's edgy and feeling pretty open and raw. Raleigh's got him nicely spread open on his own bed, clock glistening from his spit and he's just managed to wring a fucking confession (of some kind, or at least got Chuck to admit shit) out of him and Chuck's feeling pretty damn vulnerable.
The removal of the rest of Raleigh's clothes helps. At least then, they're on the same level. ]
In the drawer.
[ There's lube and a strip of condoms when he leans over to check inside the nightstand; Raleigh tears a packet off and takes that and the tube back with him to the bed. Raleigh shoves his jeans off the covers, making room for him to settle down in between Chuck's knees.
He flips open the cap of the lube, spreading a messy amount into his hand. ]
You tell me. [ Raleigh shoulders back into the vee of Chuck's thighs; his fingers find Chuck's entrance, tracing in eager, staggering circles. This is a gift, what Chuck's offering-- this is everything Raleigh didn't think he'd get to have, and Raleigh wants to do it right, make Chuck feel strung out and so good by the time Raleigh's through that he'll be seeing stars. Raleigh meets Chuck's eyes, putting some extra force behind his words. ] You tell me if I do something you don't like, alright? None of that macho bullshit.
He flips open the cap of the lube, spreading a messy amount into his hand. ]
You tell me. [ Raleigh shoulders back into the vee of Chuck's thighs; his fingers find Chuck's entrance, tracing in eager, staggering circles. This is a gift, what Chuck's offering-- this is everything Raleigh didn't think he'd get to have, and Raleigh wants to do it right, make Chuck feel strung out and so good by the time Raleigh's through that he'll be seeing stars. Raleigh meets Chuck's eyes, putting some extra force behind his words. ] You tell me if I do something you don't like, alright? None of that macho bullshit.
[ He almost follows Stacker as Stacker paces out of the Jaeger bay alone, bleeding from the nose, but the hand on Raleigh's shoulder stops him from making his way out through the crowd. When he looks back at Mako, her eyes carry the weight of years of a worry she is too young to bear -- and a quiet, forceful warning.
The Mark I glory days, Stacker used to say, when he talked about the suicide-runs: the chemical heat burning circuitry scars into flesh, bleeding in the face, fighting until you pass out limp in the Conn-Pod.
Raleigh gives Stacker his space.
But there are things he's got to sort out before their final run, and Chuck's still lingering in the corner of his vision when the crowd's mostly scattered; there's a cut on Chuck's cheekbone, bruises an angry, mottled purple, and Raleigh wonders if Chuck's seen the med-bay.
Probably not. It's that thought that has Raleigh approaching Chuck later, where he's huddled under the massive shadow of Striker, Max sitting heavy on Chuck's feet as he does something complicated with a wrench that Raleigh doesn't catch at this distance. The drivesuit feels heavy, body exhaused underneath, but he's carrying painkillers and a med kit with him for them both.
Later, he'll catch up with Stacker, but now -- there are apologies to make. Raleigh doesn't announce his presence, but Max sits up when Raleigh seats himself on one of the crates, which is as good as. ] She looks good.
The Mark I glory days, Stacker used to say, when he talked about the suicide-runs: the chemical heat burning circuitry scars into flesh, bleeding in the face, fighting until you pass out limp in the Conn-Pod.
Raleigh gives Stacker his space.
But there are things he's got to sort out before their final run, and Chuck's still lingering in the corner of his vision when the crowd's mostly scattered; there's a cut on Chuck's cheekbone, bruises an angry, mottled purple, and Raleigh wonders if Chuck's seen the med-bay.
Probably not. It's that thought that has Raleigh approaching Chuck later, where he's huddled under the massive shadow of Striker, Max sitting heavy on Chuck's feet as he does something complicated with a wrench that Raleigh doesn't catch at this distance. The drivesuit feels heavy, body exhaused underneath, but he's carrying painkillers and a med kit with him for them both.
Later, he'll catch up with Stacker, but now -- there are apologies to make. Raleigh doesn't announce his presence, but Max sits up when Raleigh seats himself on one of the crates, which is as good as. ] She looks good.
[ Raleigh breaks Chuck's nose and practically wrenches his shoulder out of socket and Chuck's fucking pissed off, and hurt and angry and then his stupid fucking father comes and tried to pop quiz him about why Chuck isn't a better person and he's so goddamn angry that he wants everyone to just shut the fuck up and leave him be so that he can mentally prepare to go on a fucking suicide mission.
Which comes sooner rather than later and they're standing there on top of Striker and he's pretty fucking sure they're gonna die but it's okay, right? IT's okay because they're giving ten million people another three seconds to get to safety and when you deal with kaiju this size that's a big fucking deal and three seconds can make a hell of a difference
so maybe
it's okay, you know -- it's just fine, and him and Herc stand there and aim those guns and shoot flares into Leatherback's face and he's mentally prepared to be smashed into oblivion by the rage of a kaiju and then--
foghorns. foghorns and bright lights and it's Gipsy fuckin' Danger come to their rescue and Chuck's so goddamn relieved he's not gonna die that he could literally cry and maybe he does but it's hard to say it's just rain on his face, really -- honestly.
Herc doesn't buy it but he doesn't say anything.
They're brought back via chopped with their jaeger while Gipsy beats the piss out of Leatherback and Otachi both and Chuck's pretty fuckin' impressed and grateful, God so grateful he doesn't want to die, not really -- not even though he's literally got nothing else to live for beyond his jaegers and the PPDC who owns him.
He should visit medical at some point, grab some shit because Raleigh fucked his face up pretty good and his arm hurts and he needs some painkillers or something because his shoulder aches, especially now.
But he doesn't. Not yet. He's sitting in Striker's bay after the heroes triumphant return after chasing off the techs, snapping that he can handle these repairs himself, needing a moment alone because Her'c injured and --
now what?
Chuck's eyes snap up from his hands when Max sits and he scowls at Raleigh's presence but it's sort of half-hearted and he gives him a weary look that's loaded with suspicion. ]
He. Striker's a he.
Which comes sooner rather than later and they're standing there on top of Striker and he's pretty fucking sure they're gonna die but it's okay, right? IT's okay because they're giving ten million people another three seconds to get to safety and when you deal with kaiju this size that's a big fucking deal and three seconds can make a hell of a difference
so maybe
it's okay, you know -- it's just fine, and him and Herc stand there and aim those guns and shoot flares into Leatherback's face and he's mentally prepared to be smashed into oblivion by the rage of a kaiju and then--
foghorns. foghorns and bright lights and it's Gipsy fuckin' Danger come to their rescue and Chuck's so goddamn relieved he's not gonna die that he could literally cry and maybe he does but it's hard to say it's just rain on his face, really -- honestly.
Herc doesn't buy it but he doesn't say anything.
They're brought back via chopped with their jaeger while Gipsy beats the piss out of Leatherback and Otachi both and Chuck's pretty fuckin' impressed and grateful, God so grateful he doesn't want to die, not really -- not even though he's literally got nothing else to live for beyond his jaegers and the PPDC who owns him.
He should visit medical at some point, grab some shit because Raleigh fucked his face up pretty good and his arm hurts and he needs some painkillers or something because his shoulder aches, especially now.
But he doesn't. Not yet. He's sitting in Striker's bay after the heroes triumphant return after chasing off the techs, snapping that he can handle these repairs himself, needing a moment alone because Her'c injured and --
now what?
Chuck's eyes snap up from his hands when Max sits and he scowls at Raleigh's presence but it's sort of half-hearted and he gives him a weary look that's loaded with suspicion. ]
He. Striker's a he.
[ The lights of the bay behind them blind him, crack his head open again and bleed migraine pulses from the front of his eyes to the top of his skull. The exhaustion he feels after Leatherback and Otachi doesn't really compare to the igniting of synapses brought about by Knifehead, though, so Raleigh only scrubs a gloved hand over his face, grateful for the shadow provided by Striker.
He's grateful that Chuck can't see his expression, too. Raleigh turns his head down, busying his hands with setting the first-aid kit down on the crate in the space beside him, where Chuck can see it.
Raleigh'd known that Chuck wouldn't have had his injuries treated, carrying them instead out of spite or anger, he doesn't know. It shames Raleigh as much as it exasperates him.
A mission this big, this important, it was amazingly stupid of him to jump on Chuck and potentially compromise him like that.
He was just so angry.
Raleigh nods, amicably agreeable. ] Striker's your baby. [ He props open the kit, looking for antiseptic wash. ]
He's grateful that Chuck can't see his expression, too. Raleigh turns his head down, busying his hands with setting the first-aid kit down on the crate in the space beside him, where Chuck can see it.
Raleigh'd known that Chuck wouldn't have had his injuries treated, carrying them instead out of spite or anger, he doesn't know. It shames Raleigh as much as it exasperates him.
A mission this big, this important, it was amazingly stupid of him to jump on Chuck and potentially compromise him like that.
He was just so angry.
Raleigh nods, amicably agreeable. ] Striker's your baby. [ He props open the kit, looking for antiseptic wash. ]
Edited 2013-11-04 00:29 (UTC)
[ The suspicion increases as Raleigh paws through that kit he brought and Chuck's wondering what the hell he's thinking, what he's planning on doing because he can't possibly be thinking that he's gonna come in here and sweet talk Chuck and --
and help him.
People don't help Chuck Hansen. ]
Yeah. [ His voice is flat, guarded and wary and exhausted. ]
What're you doing here, Becket?
and help him.
People don't help Chuck Hansen. ]
Yeah. [ His voice is flat, guarded and wary and exhausted. ]
What're you doing here, Becket?
[ Chuck Hansen helps himself.
The way he operates, he almost has to, is the thing, and Raleigh knows how difficult a burden that is to shoulder alone. Raleigh doesn't know shit about Chuck, but he sees an exhaustion and fear in Chuck's eyes that mirror the regret in his own.
Raleigh gets up from the crate with a creak of polycarbonate armor, a little stiff and sore still, but he carries the supplies over to Chuck without so much a visible wince. Raleigh briefly holds up what he's got in his hands so Chuck can see it. ] Took it out on you pretty bad earlier. [ Max hauls up off Chuck's feet and tags Raleigh as he takes a seat next to Chuck; Raleigh smiles, reaching over to ruffle his ears.
His voice is purposefully light and as casual as he can make it. ] So I figure I should give you a hand. Fair's fair.
The way he operates, he almost has to, is the thing, and Raleigh knows how difficult a burden that is to shoulder alone. Raleigh doesn't know shit about Chuck, but he sees an exhaustion and fear in Chuck's eyes that mirror the regret in his own.
Raleigh gets up from the crate with a creak of polycarbonate armor, a little stiff and sore still, but he carries the supplies over to Chuck without so much a visible wince. Raleigh briefly holds up what he's got in his hands so Chuck can see it. ] Took it out on you pretty bad earlier. [ Max hauls up off Chuck's feet and tags Raleigh as he takes a seat next to Chuck; Raleigh smiles, reaching over to ruffle his ears.
His voice is purposefully light and as casual as he can make it. ] So I figure I should give you a hand. Fair's fair.
Edited 2013-11-04 05:00 (UTC)
[ Chuck's still watching Raleigh with a wary eye, muscles tight and corded, a taught line of tension that runs all the way down his spine. He doesn't know what Becket's playing at, if he's playing at anything and if he isn't, Chuck's even more confused.
He'd said some shitty things, deserves to get socked in the face. He'd been jonesing for a fight anyway - he doesn't need Raleigh to come down here and apologize and try to...do whatever the fuck it is he's gonna do.
Doesn't need him. Doesn't need anyone. He's got Striker. He's got Max. He's got everything he needs, right here in this hangar bay. ]
Save it.
He'd said some shitty things, deserves to get socked in the face. He'd been jonesing for a fight anyway - he doesn't need Raleigh to come down here and apologize and try to...do whatever the fuck it is he's gonna do.
Doesn't need him. Doesn't need anyone. He's got Striker. He's got Max. He's got everything he needs, right here in this hangar bay. ]
Save it.
[ It's not the fight he's regretting, but the timing and the circumstances. Raleigh's come down to meet Chuck here to extend a hand and - optimistically speaking - fix things before they can back each other for Pitfall, but Raleigh still has to swallow down the urge to snap back at Chuck, because --
-- No. Chuck is bleeding tension into the very air between them; Raleigh is again reminded that both of their systems are still firing up synaptic pathways and sensory echoes, brains cleaved in two where Mako's and Herc’s minds had occupied not hours before.
They're exhausted.
Raleigh puts the supplies down on the floor, runs gloved hands over his face and through his hair, hands knitting over the back of his neck like he's trying to catch his breath after a run. He looks at Chuck with his shoulders locked tight. ] I'm not here to apologize. [ Don't go looking for another fight. ]
-- No. Chuck is bleeding tension into the very air between them; Raleigh is again reminded that both of their systems are still firing up synaptic pathways and sensory echoes, brains cleaved in two where Mako's and Herc’s minds had occupied not hours before.
They're exhausted.
Raleigh puts the supplies down on the floor, runs gloved hands over his face and through his hair, hands knitting over the back of his neck like he's trying to catch his breath after a run. He looks at Chuck with his shoulders locked tight. ] I'm not here to apologize. [ Don't go looking for another fight. ]
[ That confirmation has a bit of the tension easing – not all, but enough that some of his muscles relax, though his shoulder still aches from where Raleigh’d nearly popped everything out of socket and broken his goddamn elbow. He’d been riding an adrenaline high from earlier and now that that was fading, weariness and exhaustion was starting to set in. He’s still twitching inside in anger because not only did they lose two jaegers, they lost five people.
Two entire piloting teams gone – just like that. Five people’s lives just snuffed out of existence and they didn’t have time to mourn, didn’t have time to do anything but push forward and hope that two jaegers were going to be enough to do the job and Chuck—
Chuck’s on edge. He’s not afraid, not really, but he knows that there’s no good outcome of the mission now – especially with his dad hurt. What are they supposed to do? Who the fuck is he supposed to jockey with? He isn’t wild about the idea of someone else in his mind he doesn’t know and to be perfectly frank he’s fucking pissed at Herc for screwing this shit up.
They were supposed to go down together – as a team. Chuck never had a lot of expectations about what would happen after the war – he’d been so wrapped up in it for so long that it’s part of him and he literally doesn’t know what he would do with himself without it.
Chuck Hansen doesn’t want to die – but he expects to.
His shoulders sag a little bit and more tension eases and a few walls come down because Becket just saved his fucking ass so he can continue existing long enough to drop a bomb down in the breach. Some of the sharpness drops from his tone. ]
Then why’re you here?
Two entire piloting teams gone – just like that. Five people’s lives just snuffed out of existence and they didn’t have time to mourn, didn’t have time to do anything but push forward and hope that two jaegers were going to be enough to do the job and Chuck—
Chuck’s on edge. He’s not afraid, not really, but he knows that there’s no good outcome of the mission now – especially with his dad hurt. What are they supposed to do? Who the fuck is he supposed to jockey with? He isn’t wild about the idea of someone else in his mind he doesn’t know and to be perfectly frank he’s fucking pissed at Herc for screwing this shit up.
They were supposed to go down together – as a team. Chuck never had a lot of expectations about what would happen after the war – he’d been so wrapped up in it for so long that it’s part of him and he literally doesn’t know what he would do with himself without it.
Chuck Hansen doesn’t want to die – but he expects to.
His shoulders sag a little bit and more tension eases and a few walls come down because Becket just saved his fucking ass so he can continue existing long enough to drop a bomb down in the breach. Some of the sharpness drops from his tone. ]
Then why’re you here?
[ 3AM on the morning before Pitfall, Raleigh wakes up, stomach sick.
Five years were enough to get him used to the strange hours his body keeps, but the vivid nightmares that have taken a hold of his brain tonight are not his own. It takes a while for him to remind his body of this, mind sewn to Chuck's by the thread of their bond so closely that somewhere in the haze of sleep, Raleigh had forgotten he hadn't been the child standing on the steps of his school, listening to the shrieks of Scissure and the people it was killing; the boy in a Bell Kiowa flying away from the rubble of his city, watching Sydney and his mother blow into nuclear dust because his father couldn't cover his eyes fast enough. Raleigh wasn't there for any of that.
The emotions bleeding through their bond on any given day are hard to define, because Chuck knows how to shut Raleigh out, keeping his headspace close to himself. The visceral fear (and panic, and pain, and rage) roiling in Raleigh's gut now, though, are familiar enough to identify.
But Chuck doesn't think they should secure the bond, blasts static at Raleigh every time Raleigh gets to thinking about it, so it isn't as if Raleigh can come knocking on Chuck's door to talk, but Raleigh --
Raleigh doesn't have a choice.
Stacker's made them co-pilots. If Raleigh steps into the drift and carries this nightmare in with him, the damage he could do will be far greater than they can afford, especially with so much at stake on Pitfall. Chuck's got a right to bury his memories in the past, but Raleigh does not have the luxury of lying to him.
Chuck's awake, a thrumming presence in his head. In the time it's taken for Raleigh to think all this through, he's walked the length of the Shatterdome; he stands in front of Chuck's door now, arm outstretched. Raleigh doesn't hesitate before knocking. ]
Five years were enough to get him used to the strange hours his body keeps, but the vivid nightmares that have taken a hold of his brain tonight are not his own. It takes a while for him to remind his body of this, mind sewn to Chuck's by the thread of their bond so closely that somewhere in the haze of sleep, Raleigh had forgotten he hadn't been the child standing on the steps of his school, listening to the shrieks of Scissure and the people it was killing; the boy in a Bell Kiowa flying away from the rubble of his city, watching Sydney and his mother blow into nuclear dust because his father couldn't cover his eyes fast enough. Raleigh wasn't there for any of that.
The emotions bleeding through their bond on any given day are hard to define, because Chuck knows how to shut Raleigh out, keeping his headspace close to himself. The visceral fear (and panic, and pain, and rage) roiling in Raleigh's gut now, though, are familiar enough to identify.
But Chuck doesn't think they should secure the bond, blasts static at Raleigh every time Raleigh gets to thinking about it, so it isn't as if Raleigh can come knocking on Chuck's door to talk, but Raleigh --
Raleigh doesn't have a choice.
Stacker's made them co-pilots. If Raleigh steps into the drift and carries this nightmare in with him, the damage he could do will be far greater than they can afford, especially with so much at stake on Pitfall. Chuck's got a right to bury his memories in the past, but Raleigh does not have the luxury of lying to him.
Chuck's awake, a thrumming presence in his head. In the time it's taken for Raleigh to think all this through, he's walked the length of the Shatterdome; he stands in front of Chuck's door now, arm outstretched. Raleigh doesn't hesitate before knocking. ]
[ Raleigh reaches out and Chuck just keeps blasting static until he's having a nightmare he can't control, he can't get out of, can't force himself to wake up from and when he does wake up he launches himself from the bed and into the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet at the memory, the sheer intensity, the pain.
He hangs over the sink, brushes his teeth with his finger because fuck if he can find his toothbrush right now, rinses, spits, flushes with peroxide and spits it back out.
He's sweating and terrified and pissed that he can't control himself, that things like that still affect him and that it's worse than ever; they're just dreams they shouldn't do this kind of thing, everyone had their own trauma why is his any worse, any different? So his mum died, so his dad made a choice and saved a son he didn't bother to raise properly and Chuck wonders why he bothered, if he didn't want to be around him. He should've saved mum if that was the case, because hell if Herc was around for any of Chuck's upbringing.
His fingers scrape at the metal of the sink and he's covered in a cold sweat when the knock comes and he doesn't want to answer it, not really, but he can't stop himself and he's too shaken to blast all the static and he curses at Raleigh in his head even as he opens the goddamn door, stares Raleigh in the eye and grips at the doorframe like it's the only thing grounding him right now. ]
He hangs over the sink, brushes his teeth with his finger because fuck if he can find his toothbrush right now, rinses, spits, flushes with peroxide and spits it back out.
He's sweating and terrified and pissed that he can't control himself, that things like that still affect him and that it's worse than ever; they're just dreams they shouldn't do this kind of thing, everyone had their own trauma why is his any worse, any different? So his mum died, so his dad made a choice and saved a son he didn't bother to raise properly and Chuck wonders why he bothered, if he didn't want to be around him. He should've saved mum if that was the case, because hell if Herc was around for any of Chuck's upbringing.
His fingers scrape at the metal of the sink and he's covered in a cold sweat when the knock comes and he doesn't want to answer it, not really, but he can't stop himself and he's too shaken to blast all the static and he curses at Raleigh in his head even as he opens the goddamn door, stares Raleigh in the eye and grips at the doorframe like it's the only thing grounding him right now. ]
[ Chuck Hansen died a hero.
He's lauded as one of the fallen saviors of mankind, he's got a plaque and a statue and he's awarded medals and awards posthumously. They name bridges, highways, back roads, buildings in his honor and the world starts to rebuild. Days pass. Weeks go by and turn into a month and people start to pick up where they left off so many years ago, and move on.
Hercules Hansen tries for weeks after Pitfall to pick up any sort of distress signal that might be coming from a homing beacon from a lone escape pod that surfaced later, but it never comes. Chuck's last words ring in his ears and sometimes he wants nothing more than to bury himself in a bottle but he pushes on, perseveres, because the world still needs him, the Shatterdome needs its Marshal.
The world mourns, Hercules mourns, and then it moves on.
There is much to be done; Striker's blast may have been necessary but the tidal waves it created in its wake cause destruction and quite a bit of havoc on a few Pacific islands. Flooding occurs and many people lose their homes but luckily, very few people die.
The Shatterdome is awarded more funding, relief efforts are sent to those in need. Life goes on.
* * *
If he's to be honest with himself, Chuck can admit he's had a pretty shitty year so far, and it's not even fucking March. Stacker knew he could pilot Striker by himself and he'd yanked Chuck out in the middle of the goddamn Drift and sent him careening towards the oceans surface in the escape pod.
The blast battered the shit out of that escape pod and left Chuck in a fucking coma for the better part of a month. He'll have the scars from his radiation burns forever and the internal bleeding damn near caused him to die on the operating table of some godforsaken hospital in the middle of nowhere -- twice. His leg's busted up and he's got a few broken ribs that he can boast and he'll have the scars from that shitty defibrillator forever - massive dark, puckered tissue line the upper areas of his chest and he hates it but is somehow proud of it, when he sees it.
When he'd awoken he'd started bitching immediately, unaware of is location and his status, he'd started demanding access to a phone, a handheld, anything that could link him back to the PPDC. Barely anyone spoke English but they knew from the armor he'd worn he was a Ranger -- one that had fought, so they took care of him.
It's about then that he found out how long he'd been out, and that he was in a hospital in the middle of nowhere and unfortunately, no amount of shouting was going to get him anywhere. He'd bitched so much and so vehemently that he'd nearly torn his stitches trying to get out of bed and had to be sedated again. Eventually, Chuck finds out that communications were knocked out for some time - a bomb and boy can Chuck just guess what kind of bomb that might have been.
Eventually communications broke through and he's put on a fishing boat and transported back to Hong Kong and he sort of -- swaggers in amongst cheers though he limps and has eyes that are too tired, too old for his age.
He begs off partying, doesn't have a drink and instead has an incredibly tearful reunion with his father before he goes to find some solace, some peace, on the balcony over where Striker used to sit. ]
He's lauded as one of the fallen saviors of mankind, he's got a plaque and a statue and he's awarded medals and awards posthumously. They name bridges, highways, back roads, buildings in his honor and the world starts to rebuild. Days pass. Weeks go by and turn into a month and people start to pick up where they left off so many years ago, and move on.
Hercules Hansen tries for weeks after Pitfall to pick up any sort of distress signal that might be coming from a homing beacon from a lone escape pod that surfaced later, but it never comes. Chuck's last words ring in his ears and sometimes he wants nothing more than to bury himself in a bottle but he pushes on, perseveres, because the world still needs him, the Shatterdome needs its Marshal.
The world mourns, Hercules mourns, and then it moves on.
There is much to be done; Striker's blast may have been necessary but the tidal waves it created in its wake cause destruction and quite a bit of havoc on a few Pacific islands. Flooding occurs and many people lose their homes but luckily, very few people die.
The Shatterdome is awarded more funding, relief efforts are sent to those in need. Life goes on.
If he's to be honest with himself, Chuck can admit he's had a pretty shitty year so far, and it's not even fucking March. Stacker knew he could pilot Striker by himself and he'd yanked Chuck out in the middle of the goddamn Drift and sent him careening towards the oceans surface in the escape pod.
The blast battered the shit out of that escape pod and left Chuck in a fucking coma for the better part of a month. He'll have the scars from his radiation burns forever and the internal bleeding damn near caused him to die on the operating table of some godforsaken hospital in the middle of nowhere -- twice. His leg's busted up and he's got a few broken ribs that he can boast and he'll have the scars from that shitty defibrillator forever - massive dark, puckered tissue line the upper areas of his chest and he hates it but is somehow proud of it, when he sees it.
When he'd awoken he'd started bitching immediately, unaware of is location and his status, he'd started demanding access to a phone, a handheld, anything that could link him back to the PPDC. Barely anyone spoke English but they knew from the armor he'd worn he was a Ranger -- one that had fought, so they took care of him.
It's about then that he found out how long he'd been out, and that he was in a hospital in the middle of nowhere and unfortunately, no amount of shouting was going to get him anywhere. He'd bitched so much and so vehemently that he'd nearly torn his stitches trying to get out of bed and had to be sedated again. Eventually, Chuck finds out that communications were knocked out for some time - a bomb and boy can Chuck just guess what kind of bomb that might have been.
Eventually communications broke through and he's put on a fishing boat and transported back to Hong Kong and he sort of -- swaggers in amongst cheers though he limps and has eyes that are too tired, too old for his age.
He begs off partying, doesn't have a drink and instead has an incredibly tearful reunion with his father before he goes to find some solace, some peace, on the balcony over where Striker used to sit. ]
didn't know you liked to stare so much, ray