Chuck || Motorcity

[dieharder]

Comments

[livefaster]

[The repetition strikes Mike as odd. Chuck was often nervous about something - a beansprout body resonating everywhere all the time - but he was usually eloquent when he wasn't. Which meant he was incredibly distracted, even if folding clothes wasn't a millenarian tactic that needed utter concentration, or he was nervous.

The reason for such nervousness, Mike reckons as he puts on his boxers and gives a little jump to pull up his pants, he has no idea what it can be--

Hm.] Have you seen my shirt? The white one?

[dieharder]

[Really, he has to wonder, even if only for a moment, if Mike is even doing this on purpose. One could guess he's both nervous and distracted; folding clothes can't be quite as attention-grabbing as... the current alternative, after all.

He finds himself staring, although barely glancing over his shoulder, looking scattered around the room as Mike speaks, and promptly grabbing one of Mike's shirts off the floor and tossing it haphazardly at him.] Here.

[livefaster]

[Mike makes a quick job of putting it on, padding over to Chuck. The shirt is slightly riddled with creases from being thrown onto the floor, but he knows it'll straighten out with time.

Now to straighten something else out first.

He did not do it on purpose - he actually couldn't find his shirt - but he knew that something was up. Knew that Chuck was nervous about seeing him naked. What happened when they woke up really does change things, he found, because as he made his way towards Chuck, his hand itched to brush over the freckles peeking above the back of his collar.

He doesn't do that, though. Instead he's doing something that'll more than likely get his best friend more nervous.]

This is better, right? [He says as he crouches beside him, very quietly, putting the cards on the table gently.]

[dieharder]

[Chuck doesn't get it, doesn't make the connection between Mike's choice of words and what he is actually asking him. So he perks his head up, finding it much easier to look back at Mike now that they're closer, eyebrows arched in a silent, questioning hum.]

Is what better?

[livefaster]

[Mike arches his eyebrows, tilting his head sheepishly as he looks at his friend.] You almost couldn't look at me, just now, Chuck.

[dieharder]

... oh. [And Chuck almost looks away again - almost, but he stops himself from doing it because he knows Mike would read too much into it. Well, maybe not too much.

He swallows dry, and tries to play it cool - failing miserably, mind you. His voice is a little shaky, even, much like his flailing hands.]

That's 'cause, oh gee man I'm sorry, actually I though I was having problems not looking at you so I guess I was just trying not to... stare... because, you know... uh.

[His own words hit him with the speed and force of a meteor, and he winces inwardly.] I'll just. Shut up now.

[livefaster]

[It's not really how Chuck ends up saying it, but what he's saying that makes his lips part, his eyes widen just a little. He knew that Chuck had a bit of trouble looking at him so exposed, but not to the point of staring.

He closes his mouth, sighs through his nose, shoulders rising and falling to a relaxed slump. He smiles, a little flustered, looking down and then peeking at Chuck.] I wouldn't mind if you stared. I mean, I stare a lot at you even with clothes.

[A quirk of his lips] You have really distracting freckles everywhere.

[dieharder]

[That's a knowledge Chuck could have lived without. It makes him flush deeply, thoughts stammering in his brain more than they would if he turned them to words, and he can literally feel his heart swelling in his chest, because Mike didn't just say he had freckles everywhere, he had to use that expression - really distracting freckles everywhere. And Chuck doesn't really like to have so many freckles that go everywhere, but somehow the fact that Mike likes to stare at them (at him) makes it kind of alright.

But mostly he could have gone without the first observation. Because, really, he stared at him? A lot? Since when? For how long? Why didn't he ever notice? He would replay every single quiet moment they had if he could, but mostly, this knowledge wouldn't die down, his self-awareness would kick in at the most random moments now, he knows, and he can already imagine the feeling of Mike's gaze digging into his skin.

He blinks, wide-eyed, before he scuffs, makes a dismissive sound with his lips puckered - it sounds a lot like a pfffffftt -, hopes it drowns the fluster, awkwardness and all that overthinking on his end. He instinctively reaches a hand to shield the skin of his own neck, adding in what probably sounds like a sighed complaint.] I know...

[livefaster]

What I mean by this is... [He moves a little to place his weight better on his ankles, decides on resting a knee on the floor instead, running a hand through his wet hair. Because in essence, the problem isn't about staring or not, it's not about being comfortable about their own or the other's body and how long one looks at the other. It goes slightly further than that.

Because Mike has been looking and staring at Chuck all this while, while he was working, while he played videogames, while Chuck was looking at Claire and while Chuck settles on Mutt whenever there's another safety feature installed. It's what Mike does, because he looks at everyone already and he lingers more in Chuck because it's him, the one guy who sticks with him no matter what and makes most of the hardships worth-while.

What had happened that morning changed the way he looked at him, sure. He's noticed that since he opened his eyes and found Chuck catching his breath with his hand on his hip.]

No matter what changes, from now on, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay with it. [Or, optimism aside:] Or that we can work it out. Trust me.

[dieharder]

[Chuck purses his lips again as he hears Mike. It goes without saying, of course, so he'll spare the words - he trusts Mike, he always does, even when he's too scared or too unsure, he always knows Mike's guts and instinct will always compensate for whatever he's lacking at that particular moment.

The case is a little different now, though, because Chuck can't leave it up to just Mike - he has to be sure about it, whatever it is. There has to be common ground and the both of them have to move forward an equal amount of steps.

There's a whole process. He smiles, then bites his lips; he tucks his hair behind his ear, and distracts the strands with his fingertips; he inhales deeply, holds his breath for a while - and finally, he nods.]

I think I'll be okay with whatever too. [And he's pretty much sure about this. Pretty much works for Chuck.]

[livefaster]

[At that, Mike grins. His relief radiates in waves as his shoulders relax and his neck arches a little. It's not that he didn't know Chuck's probable reaction, it's that this was all so very new to him that he was afraid both of them were heading towards different directions, now that their minds are clear. ] I'm glad.

[Hand on his knee, he smiles.] Let's go get breakfast.

[dieharder]

[Chuck's stomach, as usual, grumbles at the mention of food. He grins sheepishly and nods, getting up from the floor.]

Ugh, yes please. I'm starving.

[He picks up his pile of folded clothes and sets them on top of the bed, adding with some dread.] But none of Jacob's cooking. I'm pretty sure I saw a piece of the cake he made yesterday crawl out of the plate.

[livefaster]

[ Mike grins, standing up as well, shrugging at the memory. He did spot the cake moving, but he had no idea if it did move out of the plate. He makes his way through the hallway, smile thrown over his shoulder.]

Want anything in particular?

[dieharder]

[Chuck shrugs as he thinks about the question, following Mike down the hall.]

I'm gonna guess something like pancakes isn't happening, is it.

[He asks hopefully, even if he knows neither of them can make pancakes, and that the ingredients to make them are scarce to say the least. Can't blame a guy for trying, though.]

Guess cereals are cool. Or those toasts you talked about earlier.

[livefaster]

[Mike tries to make a mental list of what they have in their pantry. It's not much, but he figures they could at least try.]

I think we have enough for really thin ones, so we can give it a shot. What do you think?

[dieharder]

[There's a happy hum and he picks up pace so he can walk alongside Mike.]

We do? Man, that's awesome! And I know we got some leftover whipped cream too - the good kind. Because I hid it at the back of the fridge.

[He breaks into a grin.]

[livefaster]

[It's matched by a really proud smile and a chuckle.] I knew I could count on your attention to detail, man.

[Getting into the kitchen, he wondered where the others were -- then heard outside Texas explaining Dutch more of his propeller issues. He twines his fingers and stretches his arms lazily forward, then up, almost going on tip toes as he pulls the muscles of his back.] Would you get the eggs? I'll search for a decent frying pan.

[dieharder]

[Chuck's already on his way to the fridge as Mike speaks, and he searches for the eggs - the good eggs, not Jacob's version of eggs -, pulls them out along with some milk and the butter. He sets them down on the counter.]

Think we're gonna need those too, right?

[He's trying not to be too loud because he can hear Texas outside and a) he doesn't want to have to go work on Stronghorn right away, and b) he doesn't feel like sharing right now. Neither the pancakes, nor Mike.]

[livefaster]

[Mike's reaching up through the cupboards and he arches back just a little to look at what Chuck's referring to.] Yup! And this, too. [He points at the pack of flour on the counter, something he had found on the cupboard beside the one he had opened. He doesn't really know why Chuck's speaking so quietly, but he does it as well, by instinct, or mere unconscious empathy. He goes back to moving through different shapes of pots and pans and then he finally sees the really clean-looking round one.]

Found it!

[dieharder]

[Chuck beams victoriously as he fetches a bowl for the mix, then...

He stares at everything. He never did anything close to pancakes before - in fact his cooking skills only went as far as boiling eggs and potatoes (and even then it's just barely), so he has no idea what to do now.]

... alright, now what?

[livefaster]

[Mike looks at Chuck, blinking. Well, he hadn't thought this through. But. He thinks he saw something. It was downright ancient, but it could work.]

I think I've got just the thing we need.

[Zooming through the kitchen, he peeks in a drawer by the stove. And grins. When he turns to the table, he drops a really dusty book. A paper book. It was that old.

The print is gone, but there are words carved into the worn leather - R E C I P E S.]

Think we can give this a shot?

[dieharder]

[There's a puff as the dust from the book forms a cloud when Mike sets it down. Chuck waves a hand at it, opening the book carefully.]

Bro, that's ancient! I don't even know how it's still in one piece!

[Give him a moment to run his fingers over the pages; he only saw books a couple of times before, after all.] But I guess we can try.

[livefaster]

[He lets him. It's not the first time he's seen that particular book. The last time had been about a year before, by Dutch's birthday. Jacob had wanted something that would remind him of his family, and none of the recipes he knew would do. He had Mike scavenge for days before he got something like that, and he was glad he did find that.

Plus, he knows how Chuck would probably love it. He always had a thing for vintage. He's glad he remembered where it was.]

Are all the ingredients there?

[dieharder]

[He'd be smelling the pages by now if he wasn't so hungry. Instead, he's just checking the index and finding the recipe so he can answer Mike's question.]

Hmm, we're also gonna need some sugar... [His finger trails down the page thoughtfully.] Salt... uh, do we have baking powder?

[livefaster]

[Mike's already searching for it. The sugar was easy to find - Texas always made sure they had sugar around. The salt, too.

The baking powder was something else all together. He searches for it through every cupboard, until he reaches the pantry.

The pantry is filled with weird ingredients from Jacob's cuisine. It looks strikingly normal against the weird jars, but Mike still turns a little to check with his friend.]

Uh... you think that'll work?