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He smiles a little, despite trying to keep still. When Raleigh concentrates, he does that thing with his tongue and it makes Chuck want to suck on it.

Among other...things.

"I don't think anything is broken. Just bruised."

"Silver lining, then." If there is one. This is awful and he's clearly in a lot of pain but Chuck's so lucky. Crashes aren't anything to joke about.

"We should get you in bed. Get some heat on your ribs."

And Chuck said the car flipped. It clearly wasn't a fender bender.

"Yeah." Bruised ribs are no fuckin' joke, and getting him up off that couch won't be easy.

"Just bring Max, he's a space heater," he tries to laugh it off, but ah fuck it hurts like hell.

"yeah. I will."

A beat and he stands, offering his hands to pull him up.

"When you're ready"

Wooooosah. Okay. He'll take Raleigh's hands and eeeeease himself up and off the couch, snarling the whole way.

"Fuckin'...fuck's sake..."

Sorry, sorry sorry he knows. Fucked up ribs are absolutely awful. Snarl and spit, they'll get Chuck to his feet and then carefully move towards Raleigh's bed. It's bigger and nicer than the spare and while he isn't sure where they stand it seems cruel to put him in the cold guestroom.

Worst case, Raleigh will sleep there.

They haven't done a hole lot of sleeping in the same bed lately. It feels weird. He doesn't like it. But he also doesn't like comin' home to find Chuck with another man. So.

Is what it is, he guesses. Too good to be true.

Doesn't stop him from helping his injured companion undress, checking him over for wounds. Inspecting his ribs and joints and limbs for anything obviously wrong.

If you’d talk to him, they wouldn’t be in separate beds, Raleigh.

Get him propped up and as comfortable as he can be, and he’ll make grabby hands at Raleigh. Cmere. This is the most contact they’ve had in ages. Cmeeeeere.

Raleigh knows he should go make a heat pack and get some pain killers and.. a million other things (and excuses to keep his distance) but Chuck looks so hurt and busted up that he's moving without really thinking.

He looks hesitant for a moment before wilting a little and giving in; silent as he takes off his boots and coat before sliding into bed next to him.

He’s a kicked puppy, Raleigh. Don’t kick him and leave him while he’s down.

Chuck will press against Raleigh as best he can, exhaling slowly as he closes his eyes. He hasn’t slept well at all since Raleigh decided to be pissy.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reaching to drag a hand down his arm.

Well. He's mad and hurt but he isn't a monster- moving in a little closer and draping his arm low over Chuck's hips to avoid his ribs.

"I'm here," quiet, having missed his opportunity to run.

His heart hurts, tags jingling under his shift as he moves, a bitter reminder of what feels like betrayal.

“Are you?”

Because it hasn’t felt like it lately. It’s felt like aching and longing and skin starvation. He needs you. Don’t drop him. You’re close.

He's laying here isn't he. Raleigh exhales, fighting the urge to be annoyed, knowing full well they're now talking on parallels.

But there's something in the air that makes their contact so soothing. It is anyway, but more than usual. Maybe it's the hurt. Maybe it's something else.

So maybe they should talk about it.

"You heard from Neal lately?"

Now it's Chuck fighting the urge to be annoyed, but they need to talk about this and they're actually touching and it feels to good for Chuck to ruin it.

"No. Have you?"

"No."

But there you go. That's what's eating him so bad.

"I'm surprised. You two seemed so close."

He could kill you. That's why you've been pushing him away? God you dick.

"Raaay," he groans, shifting a little so he can get a better look at Raleigh. "Is that why you've been making me sleep in the spare?"

"Well I dunno, Chuck, I thought we were something and come home to find you in Neal Caffrey's arms what the hell am I supposed to think."

So. Yes. Glaringly.

"I dunno, maybe ask me? Talk about it? Because fuck if I know; I would never fucking do that on a normal day?" Chuck is not a touchy person with anyone but Raleigh. He doesn't do hugs or cuddles or anything past a normal handshake - especially with a stranger. His behaviour that day weirds him the fuck out, too.

"We are something."

Raleigh looks at him, intense and searching. He hasn't felt much like talking. His temper doesn't allow for it without getting explosive, especially when it really matters to him.

Which is something he needs to work on but he hasn't and the way he's been dealing with it is to walk away. Cool down. Think a little.

"Are we?" Because he isn't so sure anymore.

"You're not beholden to me, if you like him then you like him, but don't screw me around."

"We are," Chuck says, firmly, as he tries not to fucking panic. Breathe, calm down. Don't go ballistic because there's no reason to just yet.

"Ray," he says, reaching to run his fingers through Raleigh's hair, gentle, soft. "I've been gone for you since my balls dropped. I don't give a fuck about Neal."

Now isn't he time to talk about this shit. Chuck is hurt. Raleigh isn't looking for a fight.

But since when has the timing being bad ever stopped him.

And he needs to hear this. He really, really needs to hear this. Crass but honest, Chuck's MO.

Chuck who's touch makes him needy and Raleigh leans into it, those fingers in his hair highlighting the aching loneliness in his chest.

"I just- I keep seeing it. Every time I pass the couch, every time I see you, and it's makeing me crazy."

Crazy, bitter, jealous, ugly.

He gets his fingers nice and deep in Raleighs hair, nails light over his scalp before he gets a good grip of it and makes Raleigh look him in the eye.

"You're a wildly jealous man, Ray," he murmurs. "And I dig it. But I ain't interested in anyone else but you. I'd burn this whole goddamn city for you."

Edited 2021-01-01 16:38 (UTC)

Making* phone why.

Their eyes and locked, focus sharp, tension thick between them. Chuck isn't wrong. He is jealous. He is possessive. Raleigh tried to warn him about it, knowing himself, and here it is.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, really listening to what Chuck is saying. Really watching.

It's honest.

"Okay," finally. The pause had been very pregnant.

"I believe you."

Chuck didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he lets it out, then hisses in pain. Fuck.

"Good," he says, voice wobbling a little. "Because I mean every damn word. I don't give a fuck about anyone else here beyond you and my old man."

That wobble fuckin' kills him.

And while Raleigh doesn't say it with words, he feels the same way. He doesn't care.

"Careful," he says instead, moving up onto his elbow to lean over Chuck. He'll come to you, stop moving.

And all these things inside him, all his ugly feelings and want and desire and love, he keeps them close to his aching heart. Words and meanings through action as he leans in to brush noses, then lips.

He didn't realize how fucking scared he was to lose Raleigh until this moment. Chuck drops his hand to curl around the back of his neck, fingers pressing against his skin, brushing over hair at the nape of his neck. He sniffles, heart twisting up in his chest as he tips his face.

Kiss him, asshole. Kiss him like you mean it, because Chuck is pouring every inch of himself into it. It's needy, desperate and he realizes with horror he's on the verge of tears.

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