FIC: The Little Things - 1/1, Pacific Rim, R, Chuck/Raleigh
Title: The Little Things
Series: Salt Life, pt 1
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Pacific Rim
Pairing: Chuck Hansen/Raleigh Becket (implied Chuck/Raleigh/Yancy)
Rating: R
Word count: 1,403
Summary: Raleigh brings Chuck lunch.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, sadly (the movie would have ended a LOT differently if they were, just sayin'), but eternal love and devotion to Travis Beacham & Guillermo del Toro for bringing this world to life.
Author's Notes: The Salt Life series is co-written with Brenda. I'll be doing the odd number fics and she'll be doing the even number ones. This is a present day, flufftastic AU set in Newcastle, New South Wales, where Chuck is a semi-retired champion surfer who owns a surf shop, and Raleigh and Yancy own the motorcycle repair shop across the street. Expect timeline hopping, lots of banter, crazy family & friends, and more. As always, love to azewewish for the beta.
The bell over the door of Salt Life Surf jangles merrily as Raleigh pushes his way in, a paper bag in one hand and two bottles of Toohey's Old dangling from the other. The walls are covered in surfboards of varying sizes, and there's a shelf that holds a massive number of surfing trophies, plaques, and ribbons.
The visual reminder that Chuck was a champion surfer - and still is when he chooses to chase the circuit around the Pacific Rim - is always a little startling.
Dez doesn't even look up from her perch at the sales counter. Which is typical when Raleigh walks into the shop. About the only time she actually does pay attention is when Yancy's with him, and then it's only to comment on what a greedy bastard Chuck is for keeping the both of them to himself.
Raleigh looks around, but, as usual, Chuck is nowhere in sight.
"He's out back," Dez says, peering at him from beneath bright red bangs before turning another page of the surf magazine in front of her. "Got a class of ankle biters later this afternoon."
"I'll keep that in mind," Raleigh says, acknowledging the warning and flashing her a wide grin as he ducks behind the counter, presses a smacking kiss to her cheek, and scoots into the back room.
*
The smell of salt and suntan oil is thick, but Raleigh's used to it. What he's not used to (even after all this time) is the sight of Chuck shirtless in the sun.
There's a surfboard resting flat on two wooden sawhorses, and Chuck is bent over it applying a new coat of wax. The bright sun gleams off his back, highlighting the freckles scattered across lightly tanned skin. His shoulders are peeling (again) and Raleigh would say something about lotion (again), but he knows that Chuck will just grin and blame it on being a natural ginger and having pale skin (again).
Chuck's wearing a pair of baggy shorts that sit so low on his hips that the upper curve of his ass is visible. And Raleigh knows that he'll be able to see just a hint of pubic hair when Chuck turns. It's typical of him, even if Raleigh can't quite figure out how Chuck manages to keep them up when he moves.
"Missed a spot," Raleigh teases, smiling when Chuck twists to look at him. He holds up the bag and the beers. "Brought lunch."
"Ah, fuck, love, yer a lifesaver," Chuck says as he straightens and wipes his hands on his shorts. And yep, there it is, the beginning of darker red curls just peeking out of the waistband of those ridiculously patterned shorts.
Sometimes Raleigh loves being right.
*
The sandwiches - ham and goat cheese for Raleigh, vegemite (just a smear, on toast, with butter, thanks) for Chuck - and the beers are mostly gone, but Raleigh's in no hurry to leave. Yancy's delivering a bike to a customer and there's no backlog across the street, so he can just laze in the shade against the side of the building and enjoy the sound of the waves rushing along the sand.
He looks down to where his fingers are idly tracing the images that cover Chuck's right arm from wrist to shoulder. The tattoos - full sleeve as Chuck is fond of pointing out every time Raleigh says 'tattoos' - fascinate him, and he's not surprised to find himself touching them again.
The ink really is gorgeous, all blues and greens with touches of red and orange and yellow, a full seascape Raleigh has spent hours tracing with his fingers and his tongue. Chuck always laughs when he starts, but never tries to stop him.
"So when're you getting yours?"
"You say that like it's a done deal."
"Yancy's getting his next week," Chuck says, oh so casually dropping that bomb like it's no big deal. "No clue what he's getting, but he asked me to set him up an appointment with Newt."
"He is?" Raleigh gives Chuck a startled look, then frowns. Yancy's said nothing about a tattoo, but if he's getting one, Raleigh will have to get one, too. He drops his eyes to Chuck's arm, one finger tracing the curve of the mermaid's hip by his elbow, and shrugs. "Dunno what I'd get."
"Think about it," Chuck says and leans in to press a kiss to Raleigh's jaw, just above the soft beard he's started to grow. "Newt'll do ya right."
*
"You know anyone on the beach can see us," Raleigh says, hands finding Chuck's hips when Chuck straddles his thighs.
"S'why I got my back to the water," Chuck says, draping his arms over Raleigh's shoulders. His grins, deep dimples flashing, and Raleigh knows that any protest is hopeless. Especially when Chuck leans in and kisses him, tongue flicking out to trace Raleigh's lower lip.
"You taste like vegemite," Raleigh says, muttering the words against Chuck's mouth.
"You love me."
"I do," Raleigh admits as Chuck kisses him again. He slips one hand beneath the waistband of Chuck's shorts, fingers curling around Chuck's rapidly hardening cock.
Chuck deepens the kiss, rocking up into Raleigh's fist with a low groan. "Yeah," Chuck says, forehead resting against Raleigh's, eyes closed so his lashes fan across his cheekbones, "like that, fuck, Rals..."
"You look good like this," Raleigh whispers. He kisses Chuck's eyelids, nuzzles his jaw, and works his hand along Chuck's length in a lazy rhythm.
Chuck just pants softly, hips rocking, and his drawn out moan lets Raleigh know he's close. And there's not much that Raleigh likes more than watching Chuck lose control.
"Come for me, baby," Raleigh croons, speeding up the pace, pulling back just enough to see Chuck's face. "Wanna watch you."
"Fuck, don't," Chuck says, huffing a soft laugh, face scrunching up as his hips stutter, "don't call me that."
"Ha, you love it." He kisses Chuck again, nips his bottom lip, and makes a small sound when Chuck stiffens and groans, spilling over Raleigh's fingers.
*
"Shame I have a class in a bit," Chuck says, gaze dropping to Raleigh's crotch.
"Nah," Raleigh says, shifting in an effort to ease the tightness in his own shorts. It's not that he doesn't want Chuck to reciprocate, it's just... "Yance said I'm not allowed to come 'til he gets home."
Chuck blinks, then presses his lips tight together. A muffled snicker escapes. "Fuck, bra, what'd you do?"
"Told him I was bringing you lunch." He settles back against the wall and leans against Chuck's shoulder as he laces their fingers together. "He gave me that look."
"You're in for it tonight."
"Yeah, but it's worth it," he says, giving Chuck's hand a squeeze and nuzzling his jaw. Wasn't his fault that Yancy didn't believe in the Noon Nookie Rule. Or, rather, he didn't believe in it like Raleigh and Chuck did. It also wasn't his fault that Yancy'd decided to deliver the bike himself. "Oh, your Uncle Scott called this morning."
"Yeah?" Chuck gives him a lazy, curious look. "What'd he want?"
"Said he'll be by this weekend so we can start on the next room."
"Okay, good. Which one're we doing again?"
"Small bathroom downstairs," Raleigh replies, sliding down until he can rest his head on Chuck's shoulder. He closes his eyes, smiling as he remembers the last time Chuck's uncle had been over to help with the renovations to the house. "He politely requested that we have our clothes on when we answer the door this time. Said, and I'm quoting here, that he never needs to see that much of his dear nephew again."
"What a fucking wanker," Chuck laughs. "Not like he hasn't constantly seen me starkers since I was a sprog."
"Yeah, but I think it was seeing Yancy starkers that did it," Raleigh points out, and Chuck laughs again. "I promised him we'd all stay suitably covered."
"Where's the fun in that?" He kisses the top of Raleigh's head, and Raleigh can feel his smile. "S'pose you told him we'd behave, too."
"I didn't go that far."
"Good thing." Another kiss is pressed to Raleigh's temple, then Chuck shifts enough to drape his arm around Raleigh's shoulders. "I'd hate to make you lie to my uncle."
"Yeah, I don't think he'd believe it, anyway."
"Nah," Chuck drawls, laughing that soft laugh that Raleigh loves so much, "don't reckon he would."
Series: Salt Life, pt 1
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Pacific Rim
Pairing: Chuck Hansen/Raleigh Becket (implied Chuck/Raleigh/Yancy)
Rating: R
Word count: 1,403
Summary: Raleigh brings Chuck lunch.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, sadly (the movie would have ended a LOT differently if they were, just sayin'), but eternal love and devotion to Travis Beacham & Guillermo del Toro for bringing this world to life.
Author's Notes: The Salt Life series is co-written with Brenda. I'll be doing the odd number fics and she'll be doing the even number ones. This is a present day, flufftastic AU set in Newcastle, New South Wales, where Chuck is a semi-retired champion surfer who owns a surf shop, and Raleigh and Yancy own the motorcycle repair shop across the street. Expect timeline hopping, lots of banter, crazy family & friends, and more. As always, love to azewewish for the beta.
The bell over the door of Salt Life Surf jangles merrily as Raleigh pushes his way in, a paper bag in one hand and two bottles of Toohey's Old dangling from the other. The walls are covered in surfboards of varying sizes, and there's a shelf that holds a massive number of surfing trophies, plaques, and ribbons.
The visual reminder that Chuck was a champion surfer - and still is when he chooses to chase the circuit around the Pacific Rim - is always a little startling.
Dez doesn't even look up from her perch at the sales counter. Which is typical when Raleigh walks into the shop. About the only time she actually does pay attention is when Yancy's with him, and then it's only to comment on what a greedy bastard Chuck is for keeping the both of them to himself.
Raleigh looks around, but, as usual, Chuck is nowhere in sight.
"He's out back," Dez says, peering at him from beneath bright red bangs before turning another page of the surf magazine in front of her. "Got a class of ankle biters later this afternoon."
"I'll keep that in mind," Raleigh says, acknowledging the warning and flashing her a wide grin as he ducks behind the counter, presses a smacking kiss to her cheek, and scoots into the back room.
*
The smell of salt and suntan oil is thick, but Raleigh's used to it. What he's not used to (even after all this time) is the sight of Chuck shirtless in the sun.
There's a surfboard resting flat on two wooden sawhorses, and Chuck is bent over it applying a new coat of wax. The bright sun gleams off his back, highlighting the freckles scattered across lightly tanned skin. His shoulders are peeling (again) and Raleigh would say something about lotion (again), but he knows that Chuck will just grin and blame it on being a natural ginger and having pale skin (again).
Chuck's wearing a pair of baggy shorts that sit so low on his hips that the upper curve of his ass is visible. And Raleigh knows that he'll be able to see just a hint of pubic hair when Chuck turns. It's typical of him, even if Raleigh can't quite figure out how Chuck manages to keep them up when he moves.
"Missed a spot," Raleigh teases, smiling when Chuck twists to look at him. He holds up the bag and the beers. "Brought lunch."
"Ah, fuck, love, yer a lifesaver," Chuck says as he straightens and wipes his hands on his shorts. And yep, there it is, the beginning of darker red curls just peeking out of the waistband of those ridiculously patterned shorts.
Sometimes Raleigh loves being right.
*
The sandwiches - ham and goat cheese for Raleigh, vegemite (just a smear, on toast, with butter, thanks) for Chuck - and the beers are mostly gone, but Raleigh's in no hurry to leave. Yancy's delivering a bike to a customer and there's no backlog across the street, so he can just laze in the shade against the side of the building and enjoy the sound of the waves rushing along the sand.
He looks down to where his fingers are idly tracing the images that cover Chuck's right arm from wrist to shoulder. The tattoos - full sleeve as Chuck is fond of pointing out every time Raleigh says 'tattoos' - fascinate him, and he's not surprised to find himself touching them again.
The ink really is gorgeous, all blues and greens with touches of red and orange and yellow, a full seascape Raleigh has spent hours tracing with his fingers and his tongue. Chuck always laughs when he starts, but never tries to stop him.
"So when're you getting yours?"
"You say that like it's a done deal."
"Yancy's getting his next week," Chuck says, oh so casually dropping that bomb like it's no big deal. "No clue what he's getting, but he asked me to set him up an appointment with Newt."
"He is?" Raleigh gives Chuck a startled look, then frowns. Yancy's said nothing about a tattoo, but if he's getting one, Raleigh will have to get one, too. He drops his eyes to Chuck's arm, one finger tracing the curve of the mermaid's hip by his elbow, and shrugs. "Dunno what I'd get."
"Think about it," Chuck says and leans in to press a kiss to Raleigh's jaw, just above the soft beard he's started to grow. "Newt'll do ya right."
*
"You know anyone on the beach can see us," Raleigh says, hands finding Chuck's hips when Chuck straddles his thighs.
"S'why I got my back to the water," Chuck says, draping his arms over Raleigh's shoulders. His grins, deep dimples flashing, and Raleigh knows that any protest is hopeless. Especially when Chuck leans in and kisses him, tongue flicking out to trace Raleigh's lower lip.
"You taste like vegemite," Raleigh says, muttering the words against Chuck's mouth.
"You love me."
"I do," Raleigh admits as Chuck kisses him again. He slips one hand beneath the waistband of Chuck's shorts, fingers curling around Chuck's rapidly hardening cock.
Chuck deepens the kiss, rocking up into Raleigh's fist with a low groan. "Yeah," Chuck says, forehead resting against Raleigh's, eyes closed so his lashes fan across his cheekbones, "like that, fuck, Rals..."
"You look good like this," Raleigh whispers. He kisses Chuck's eyelids, nuzzles his jaw, and works his hand along Chuck's length in a lazy rhythm.
Chuck just pants softly, hips rocking, and his drawn out moan lets Raleigh know he's close. And there's not much that Raleigh likes more than watching Chuck lose control.
"Come for me, baby," Raleigh croons, speeding up the pace, pulling back just enough to see Chuck's face. "Wanna watch you."
"Fuck, don't," Chuck says, huffing a soft laugh, face scrunching up as his hips stutter, "don't call me that."
"Ha, you love it." He kisses Chuck again, nips his bottom lip, and makes a small sound when Chuck stiffens and groans, spilling over Raleigh's fingers.
*
"Shame I have a class in a bit," Chuck says, gaze dropping to Raleigh's crotch.
"Nah," Raleigh says, shifting in an effort to ease the tightness in his own shorts. It's not that he doesn't want Chuck to reciprocate, it's just... "Yance said I'm not allowed to come 'til he gets home."
Chuck blinks, then presses his lips tight together. A muffled snicker escapes. "Fuck, bra, what'd you do?"
"Told him I was bringing you lunch." He settles back against the wall and leans against Chuck's shoulder as he laces their fingers together. "He gave me that look."
"You're in for it tonight."
"Yeah, but it's worth it," he says, giving Chuck's hand a squeeze and nuzzling his jaw. Wasn't his fault that Yancy didn't believe in the Noon Nookie Rule. Or, rather, he didn't believe in it like Raleigh and Chuck did. It also wasn't his fault that Yancy'd decided to deliver the bike himself. "Oh, your Uncle Scott called this morning."
"Yeah?" Chuck gives him a lazy, curious look. "What'd he want?"
"Said he'll be by this weekend so we can start on the next room."
"Okay, good. Which one're we doing again?"
"Small bathroom downstairs," Raleigh replies, sliding down until he can rest his head on Chuck's shoulder. He closes his eyes, smiling as he remembers the last time Chuck's uncle had been over to help with the renovations to the house. "He politely requested that we have our clothes on when we answer the door this time. Said, and I'm quoting here, that he never needs to see that much of his dear nephew again."
"What a fucking wanker," Chuck laughs. "Not like he hasn't constantly seen me starkers since I was a sprog."
"Yeah, but I think it was seeing Yancy starkers that did it," Raleigh points out, and Chuck laughs again. "I promised him we'd all stay suitably covered."
"Where's the fun in that?" He kisses the top of Raleigh's head, and Raleigh can feel his smile. "S'pose you told him we'd behave, too."
"I didn't go that far."
"Good thing." Another kiss is pressed to Raleigh's temple, then Chuck shifts enough to drape his arm around Raleigh's shoulders. "I'd hate to make you lie to my uncle."
"Yeah, I don't think he'd believe it, anyway."
"Nah," Chuck drawls, laughing that soft laugh that Raleigh loves so much, "don't reckon he would."