suicidemission | like a match to gasoline

Chuck’s emotions are pinballing all over the place; he’d just insulted Raleigh on camera, implied he can’t keep himself in any kind of committed relationship then turned around and got offended and pissed off on his behalf and stomped off of the set of a nationally televised interview.

Mako’s gonna be furious. Herc’s gonna be furious. Becky’s furious, watching them leave, because now she has no pilots to interview and she’s stuck trying to fill a void for the next twenty minutes of her show.

Chuck gives about 0 fucks.

He saw that look on Becket’s face and a switch flipped and he acted on impulse, offering Raleigh a way out in a way only Chuck Hansen can do. Chuck stomping off is expected and he isn’t looked at like he’s a coward, and Raleigh going after him to ‘reprimand’ him isn’t something people would blink at.

He waits until they’re in the dressing room to tear his jacket off and rip his tie away, throwing them on the couch on top of Raleigh’s before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt. He’s so pissed off he’s hot.

“Fucking assholes,” he snarls in return, “the fucking hell were they thinking?”

Raleigh can't keep up with Chuck's ever swinging pendulum of anger, but he grateful it's not currently knocking against him. He splashes his face one more time and pats it dry with a towel before heading back into the room and sinking into the chair there. In contrast to the way Chuck's giving off heat, Raleigh feels like shivering. He knows it's in his head, but the can almost feel the snow on his arm.

He gives up on sitting still and goes for the clothes he'd arrived to the tv studio in, unbuttoning the top of his shirt until he could yank it off over his head and replace it with his sweater. He goes back to the chair then.

"They don't understand. None of it."

This time he lets himself give into the urge to rub at his shoulder as he sinks back into the chair. He's never wanted it to be a habit, so he rarely let's himself even really look at it when he's topless, but this once with Yancy's second hand worry and listen to me rattling around his brain he lets himself have it. It would be better than holding the right side of his head. He breathes out carefully.

"That's not the picture they should have, but I don't suppose they would have anything from Hong Kong."

No one had wanted to record the failing PPDC's last ditch attempt to save the world. It makes his stomach roll again and he shakes his head. He appreciates Chuck's anger on his behalf because he's too shocked to feel it himself.

Edited (html screwup) 2013-12-06 18:36 (UTC)

Raleigh Becket is not a small man. Chuck remembered when he was younger, when he was still in the Academy, watching the Beckets on TV and taking note that Raleigh was well defined, built, solid. Even after five years of working on that goddamn wall and living off of rations Raleigh is still built - though admittedly smaller than he should be.

Right now though, sitting in that chair in that stupid sweater of his, he looks small. Weary, a little beaten, and Chuck can’t – fucking handle it. This man was his hero at one time, someone he aspired to be just like, and here he is sitting in front of Chuck, all busted up and doing his damndest to keep that shit together and somehow miraculously managing to pull it off. Chuck doesn't know how he fuckign does it.

Somehow even now Raleigh Becket still managed to inspire him, though he’d never let it show.

Chuck watches him for a minute and lets the words rattle around in his head before he marches over to the closet and jerkily grabs his bomber out before coming over and abruptly dumping it in Raleigh’s lap.

“It’s warm,” he snaps, before turning on his heel and going to root around in his bag and dragging out a flask and a metal cup. “Here.” It’s a small cup, just enough to shoot whiskey or bourbon or some other concoction that burns the throat and warms the limbs. “Shoot it. Don’t sip it like a pussy.”

Raleigh grips Chuck's jacket and leans forward to put it on over his sweater. He'll probably eventually get too hot in both layers, but for now it's exactly what he needs. It sits right on on his shoulders, but the arms of it are a little big, obviously tailored to Chuck's muscle bulk. It's comforting and feels like a defense against the world out there that Raleigh didn't know he wanted.

The flask is even more of a surprise, even though he knows it really shouldn't be probably. He half laughs at Chuck's strict directions on how to drink it, but he follows them twice before handing it back with the false heat of the alcohol spreading through his body. He's feeling better already, and it's the quickest recovery process he's had ever, he's pretty sure.

"Alcohol is bad idea, but that seems to be the theme of the day, so thanks."

He hasn't had anything to drink since long before Knifehead. On the Wall he couldn't and didn't want to spare the rations squares for it. Before that, well, on-call pilots had to be sober, which Chuck probably knew all about. He can see himself in the mirror from the corner of his eye. He still looks like a kicked dog, maybe, but his coloring is back.

“Yeah.”

Alcohol is a bad idea, and Chuck doesn’t drink often and when he does, it’s never in excess. He’s aware of the rules and regulations of the PPDC and how there was to be no drinking for people on active duty – like Chuck, like Raleigh.

He takes it back, screws the cap back on and goes to rinse out the metal before he throws it all unceremoniously back into his duffle. He hesitates before peeling himself out of his dress shirt, glancing over at Raleigh before unbuttoning It the rest of the way and leaving it like that, hanging open over an undershirt, the telltale lump of dogtags right there, hanging around his neck at all times.

Only then does he kick his shoes off and allow himself to sit on the couch, forehead resting in his palm, a slow exhale escaping his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Raleigh's a little surprised Chuck doesn't take a drink himself even after his agreement with Raleigh's statement, but he understands that adding alcohol to Chuck's anger isn't going to do anything like relax him, like it will help Raleigh loosen up a little against the shock.

He sweeps his eyes over Chuck just once before he finished unbuttoning his shirt and doesn't stare even though he wants to. Chuck is solid, not like a mountain maybe, but more like the unstoppable wall of water behind a tsunami. Raleigh likes that Chuck's that way, even if Chuck doesn't want the admiration. So, he doesn't stare. He toes his own shoes off and sprawls slumped in the chair with the jacket pulled around him and his head resting on the back of it.

He's feeling a lot better, and that's probably the bourbon talking on his nearly empty stomach, and the fact that he'd never really been good at alcohol tolerance anyway. He turns his head, looking at Chuck. The laugh wells up unprovoked in his throat and he can't stop it before it's out there in the air.

"Oh, God. A month ago we survived two nuclear blasts and now I can't even look at a photo without needing you to rescue me."

He’s sort of watching Raleigh, eyes crinkling at the edges just enough that someone perceptive enough would be able to tell that it’s from amusement and not from a smirk.

Becket’s all bundled up in his jacket - his jacket, Chuck’s Striker Eureka jacket and it’s fitted comfortably right there around Raleigh’s shoulders. It looks good, really good on him and Chuck likes it, likes how it’s sort of like a claim even though Chuck’s too stubborn and bull-headed to take what’s been offered to him.

Chuck picks his head up and leans back against the couch, an arm draping over the back of it, ankle resting on his knee as he barks a laugh.

“Always need savin’, don’t you, Becket?” Always gotta have someone clearing a path for him.

Raleigh's usually too vivid memories slip slide through his grasp pleasantly for the moment. He thinks Chuck might be referencing Stacker, as well as what just happened, and he wants to protest that he's not the lady, that Gipsy was, but that's a little to raw so he leaves it be. Instead he pushes himself up and out of the chair moving to sit heavily on the much more comfortable couch next to Chuck with his legs stretched out.

"It's good though, that it's you." Raleigh tilts his head back on the couch and closes his eyes with a bit of a smile. "You do it right, but that's what you do." He almost adds because you're the best, but he's not drunk, just a little loose and he can stop his mouth from running.

He doesn’t move when Raleigh gets up and comes over, just lets his arm stay where it is. If he wanted, he was close enough to lift it and slide his fingers through blond hair, but he keeps his hand still, clutching at the couch cushion when Raleigh leans back. Raleigh’s head does bump his wrist, but he just – stays put, fingers digging into plush material.

“It’s ‘cause I’m the best.” If Raleigh won’t say it, Chuck will for him. “Good at smashin’ shit up, yeah?”

Kaiju, relationships. Chuck’s good at ruining it all.

Edited 2013-12-06 20:34 (UTC)

Raleigh started to nod in agreement with the first part of Chuck's statement, but found himself cracking open and eye and fixing it on the younger man at the second part of it. He thinks, a lot of the time, that he doesn't have Chuck figured out at all. He also thinks, that Stacker didn't give Chuck enough credit in his sharp assessment of him.

"The best at saving people." He corrects him kind of earnestly for not actually moving to do it, but he's finally warm, and he can feel Chuck's arm across the back of the couch. It's nice, even more comfortable now than because he'd screwed up shit with his joke. "I've smashed more stuff than you. Gipsy twice and that's only counting jaegers."

Fucking hell, Raleigh Becket.

He continues to surprise Chuck all the time - Chuck's not the only one with a fucking question mark hovering over his head. Raleigh's ability to joke about smashing up Gipsy Danger throws Chuck off completely. So much so that he chokes back a guffaw, arm casually and totally unintentionally sliding down to rest around Raleigh's shoulders.

"Striker was a Mark V," he shoots back, though his tone lacks the malicious quality Raleigh is likely used to by this time. "He counts as two; Fastest, newest, first and last of his kind. And, my total kill count is eleven. World record. 'Sides, killin' kaiju, that's savin' people. So really, you're just verifying what I said, mate."

Raleigh's head turns entirely towards Chuck at the laugh and he opens both eyes so he can watch. The arm that falls unexpectedly around his shoulders his heavy and warm, but it's safe rather than restraining even to Raleigh's tired mind. He shifts slumping towards Chuck and a little further down on the couch so Chuck's arm settles more firmly around him.

"But you don't really smash a kaiju. It's more like blowing them up or cutting them down. Gipsy cut them down with the sword or blew them with the canon. Striker had those chest missiles and the sting blades. So yeah, saving people not smashing things."

He half shrugs under Chuck's arm. "I don't want to argue about it though. Too tired."

"I don't either."

He's tired. For once, Chuck isn't feeling antagonistic or temperamental. He's calmed down considerably, though there's a tinge of anger still in the muscles of his jaw. His hold is loose and he shifts to allow Raleigh room to lean, though there's a faint hint of possessiveness in the way his fingers curl into the leather of the jacket.

"Nap."

Over half of the things Chuck says are a command, this is no different.

The absolute last of the tension goes out of Raleigh when Chuck seconds not wanting to fight anymore and he absently toes off his shoes, pulling his legs up on the last couch cushion and leaning further into Chuck's shoulder.

"I can follow that order."

He closes his eyes and settles in feeling better than he had for most of the time since they left the Shatterdome in Hong Kong. After a few moments his breathing evens out.

"At until Mako shows up to spring us and kill us herself." He mutters and suppresses a yawn before eventually, finally dropping off to sleep against Chuck.

"Good t'know."

Raleigh gets comfortable, leans heavily against him and Chuck does curl his arm protectively around him, fingers digging into his arm while he sits there awake, guarding the sleeping Raleigh.

He sits like that for a long time, letting Raleigh doze against him, carefully shifting and adjusting until Raleigh's head ends up cradled carefully in his lap, Chuck's fingers carefully and with a surprising amount of tenderness sliding through his hair.

Edited 2013-12-07 04:36 (UTC)

Raleigh dozes. He's sleeping the most deeply and gently he has in a long time warm and content having fallen asleep knowing Chuck had his back.

Becky, on the other hand, is having the worst day of her short career in front of the cameras. She was walked out on, by two of the biggest heroes of the century during what should have been the interview to sky rocket her career. She bursts open the door of the room they'd been assigned to and stops in her tracks because Raleigh Becket is asleep in Chuck Hansen's lap--hell, the younger man has the softest expression she's ever seen on his face and he's got his hand in the older ranger's hair.

"Ha! I knew it- You are together!"

Raleigh, so used to leaping to his feet at the sound of the Wall's sirens or the blare of the drop alert rolls off the couch and to his feet immediately, in an almost, but not quite defensive position even while he's blinking the sleep from his eyes. The dazed look in his eyes is gone almost immediately and he rolls his eyes, sinking back onto the couch and running a hand over his face.

This is the calmest Chuck's...probably ever been. His fury has been tempered by Raleigh's presence and how nice it feels to have the warm weight of his body against him, the heavy feel of his head pressing against his thigh while he strokes blonde hair.

It's nice. It won't last, because Chuck's an asshole and an idiot and completely sure that he's not really good enough of a person to ever be with someone like Raleigh Becket, but for now he's enjoying it and allowing himself to breath and just...exist without having to be somewhere or think about a war that had seemed never ending.

The door flies open and startles him out of this moment of calm and his face automatically arranges itself into his scowl. Raleigh's sitting up and moving the moment that the door opens and so is Chuck, though he doesn't sit back down when he sees who it is.

"You."

He's advancing on her and while he isn't going to swing, he's going to say some very nice things and urge her to leave. Now.

"Haven't you don't enough goddamn damage for one day? Get out!"

Raleigh watches Chuck move towards the host of the show they'd walked out on and feels vaguely like he should do something to stop him. He would, if he thought Chuck was actually going to hurt her, but that wasn't something Chuck would do, Raleigh knew that without a doubt. He was hardwired to protect civilians. It didn't mean he had to be nice to them, of course, but Raleigh knew she was safe, even if she didn't know that.

It was even kind of fun watching Chuck yell at someone for him, rather than at him.

"Damage?!" Becky's practically shrieking at she shrinks back into the wall away from the mass of angry ranger in front of her. "What damage?!" The only damage she'd seen done was to her ratings.

Chuck cocks his head at her, face black with his wrath. She shrinks even further away from him, back hitting the wall and if she didn't know better, she'd say he really might swing on her.

Which...the fear factor is sort of what he's going for, even if he'd never lay hands on her. Ever.

"Lemme tell you something, princess. Y'can't even begin to know what us Rangers go through, yeah? So not sticking to the script and showing us pictures like that without fuckin' warning us is a goddamn shitty thing to do and y'know what? That's earned you a real special place on my shit list, so I suggest you get the fuck out right now, before I get angry."

Which he already is, actually.

"And if you don't, I will fuck up your career so bad you'll be scrubbing toilets at an extended stay motel by the time I'm bloody finished. Out. Now, before I call security."

Raleigh settles back onto the couch and watches with a fascinated incredulity at the way she doesn't understand. It's even nicer to watch Chuck bristle even further and fill her in. He was finally warming up, almost too warm to still be wearing both the thick long-sleeved layers, but he was really unwilling to give up the jacket before Chuck actually asked for it.

He perched his elbow on his knee and his head on his hand watching as Becky got smaller and smaller in direct correspondence to the way Chuck seemed to make himself bigger and bigger. At Chuck's threat to call security, she scurried right back out the door she'd came in through.

"See? Saving me again, and not one thing broken."

Chuck kicks the door shut after she leaves; she had nothing else to say to either of them and a quick exit seemed prudent. Chuck thinks she made the right decision though he's still really tempted to find a way to ruin her career but in the end, decides it's not really worth it and turns away, snarling as he flings himself back onto the couch.

They had one good moment - one they can't get back, one they might not ever get again because Chuck doesn't know how to do things right, and she ruined it.

Chuck's angry. He's frustrated, and his heart is twisting in uncomfortable ways at how cold and empty his lap feels now that Raleigh's awake and sitting upright.

"Bullshit," he mutters, dragging his hands down his face, heart still pounding from the brief adrenaline rush. "Fucking -- bullshit."

Raleigh is touched a little by the anger on his behalf even if he doesn't entirely understand where Chuck is pulling it from. Now that Becky is gone and Chuck seems like he's trying to calm down Raleigh feels like he's got a better chance of not accidentally redirecting Chuck's ire to himself.

Carefully, so Chuck knows what he's doing Raleigh presses his side against the Australian's and reaches out to wrap his fingers loosely around Chuck's wrist to tug it away from his face.

"It's okay. Well, not entirely, but you made a bad situation much better. Mali will be here soon and we will go back to the hotel and read or sleep or something."

"Did I?"

He barks a laugh, but he lets Raleigh touch him, lets that warm hand grip his wrist and pull on him. It's rare Chuck lets people touch him; he's not anywhere near as tactile as Raleigh can be and physical affection isn't something he's very familiar with or comfortable receiving.

That touch though, Raleigh's proximity - it's nice.

"Think I might've made it worse." Surely, Becky will be making some calls despite Chuck's threat but in the moment Chuck's having a hard time giving a fuck about anything beyond how warm Raleigh is pressed up against his side like that.

"Aren't y'gettin' hot?" He looks over at him, curious, eyes traveling from chin to chest to hips, taking in the form of Raleigh wrapped up in Chuck's bomber jacket. His cheeks flush a little, and he looks away.

"Looks good on you."

OOC: Chuck bb you are the cutest. Also I am at work again but I'm cleaning lockers so I might be able to reply some. I should be home before six.

Raleigh brings their arms down to rest on their legs and nods firmly at Chuck's question. "You made it better for me at least." At the rest of it, he shrugs.

"The world is on our side right now not hers."

He is admittedly getting too warm. His sweater was made for cold lodgings in Alaska and Chuck's jacket by itself is insulated against the wind and for heat. That's not even taking into account Chuck's body heat right up against his side, but Raleigh isn't sweating yet so he's not going to give up the jacket yet.

"A little warm." He makes no move to slide away or shrug off the jacket. Instead, his ears and neck start to turn pink at the way Chuck looks him over and compliments him. He speaks in an attempt to cover his embarrassment.

"We used to have matching ones. Tendo's got them in storage somewhere. I was thinking about giving Mako my old one, but I don't know what she would think about it." He doesn't say he'd be keeping Yancy's for himself, but it hangs there in the air. "My coat from Alaska isn't exactly photogenic. I've been hearing complaints."

"...Good."

So -- he's good for something, that helps. He's been fighting feelings of inadequacy ever since Pitfall succeeded. Now that the war was over, now that there was no use for Jaegers or their pilots, Chuck's kind of lost and these press tours buzzing and pressing and pushing him for answers about what he's going to do next have him tense and angry and volatile at all times.

"Maybe she'll can it, leave us the fuck alone," he mutters, letting Raleigh bring his hand down and away from his face entirely.

He glances back over at Raleigh in time to see the pink blush spread over his neck and cheeks and ears, and he almost smiles, but it fades immediately.

"That's 'cause it's bloody awful, Becket. Get rid of that flea ridden thing."

Wear Gipsy's. Wear a new one. Wear Chuck's. Anything but that awful thing from Alaska.

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/rubs against