Chuck || Motorcity

[dieharder]

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[dieharder]

[Chuck's feet struggle and stumble all over themselves, and it's a good thing Mike grabbed his arm and that he kept so close. Instead of falling to the ground, he just loses his balance and bumps against Mike with a squeal.]

Mikey, waitwaitwait--

[livefaster]

Nope. You had your chance, Chuckles. [He's grinning and now that he's caught him he's trying to slip the wet cloth down Chuck's collar.]

[dieharder]

Nonononononono-- [He screams a little in surprise when he feels the cloth come to contact with his skin, and he squirms to try and release from Mike's grip, his brain screaming coldcoldcolcoldcold at him.]

[livefaster]

[He smiles and spares him the suffering for long, taking the cloth away from his skin. Mike had only been wet for a few seconds, after all, and his shirt is already dried up.] Looks like revenge is served cold after all!

[dieharder]

[Chuck winces and moves away, a little unbalanced, picking at the wet collar of his own shirt. He looks over at Mike with a mock-pout on his face.] What I did wasn't as bad!

[livefaster]

[Mike grins. He would expect it, but he's pretty sure he'll end up forgetting it, while Chuck tended to wait to strike.

He reaches to move Chuck's shoulders gingerly into place, helping him find a balance.] You'll catch up to the debt soon.

[dieharder]

[Narrow eyes shoot at Mike, and while he really wants to yank that cloth off of Mike's hands and rub it in his face, that would probably mean their little war would just go on endlessly, and a wet collar means Chuck's already going to want to change his shirt as it is.]

Oh you can count on that, Mister Chilton. [He sighs, and walks back into the kitchen, knowing there's a basket with fresh laundry there.]

[livefaster]

Countin' on it! [Mike follows, smiling from ear to ear and shoving the tip of the cloth on his back pocket - along with many of Texas' plans. It swishes from side to side like a long tail as he pads lazily behind Chuck.]

[dieharder]

[He glares back at Mike. Oh, he won't be looking so happy when it comes. Chuck's already thinking up ideas right now, even as he pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside as he picks up a clean, dry one from the pile.]

[livefaster]

[And Mike is about to tidy said cloth when he does a double-take, steps relenting. He has always been entertained by Chuck's freckles, always liked to trace them under his fingers, but then, they were just a little lighter than he'd remember. Some of them were almost losing to the paler skin.

So he stops in his tracks, distracted, draws imaginary shapes out of a game of connect the dots in his head.

Distracting freckles. Really distracting freckles. He had said that before, didn't he?]

[dieharder]

[Well, hopefully Mike's a fast player at those games, because Chuck really doesn't take long to pull the shirt down his head, though he does struggle a little to get the arms through the sleeves, finally tugging it down the rest of the way.

For all his attentiveness and self-consciousness, Chuck can be really absentminded on occasion. So he can't tell why Mike's staring like he'd just walked into the kitchen door. He waves a hand at his friend.] Mike, you okay?

[livefaster]

[Mike shakes his head at the wave, gives Chuck a sheepish smile. Caught in the act, he can't really help but laugh at himself, even if good-naturedly. One morning and he was already wrapped around his finger.

... or maybe he already was, it's just that from this morning forth, it turns evident.] Sorry. Hey, what did I tell you?

[dieharder]

I... don't know? [He arches an eyebrow at Mike, a little confused at what he might mean, and throws his first shirt over the unused drying rack.] You told me a lot of things, man.

[livefaster]

[Shoving his hands in his pockets because he's not really sure what to do with his hands right then, Mike shrugs.] I told you I got distracted.

[dieharder]

[It takes Chuck only a couple of seconds to go from puzzled to awkward, because as soon as he relates what Mike's saying to their earlier conversation, he blushes deeply, stammers a giggle and distracts himself by playing with the hem of his shirt while looking down.] ... oh.

Right. Sorry.

[livefaster]

Why would you need to apologize? [He smiles, his hands clenching in his own pockets. He needs to move, suddenly, especially when Chuck is looking so bashful, but he's unsure of what he'll do.]

It's a good thing to be distracted sometimes.

[dieharder]

Right! No, I just-- uh. Never mind. [He shrugs, a hand moving to his neck, and his feet hesitate for a little while before he actually starts walking back out of the kitchen. He's not sure what to do right now either, but he's sure - almost sure - that they shouldn't be getting distracted right now, and focusing on the things they have to get done instead.]

[livefaster]

[If there's something Mike doesn't feel at ease with, is when his friend dismisses and drops the subject and then makes his way to leave. It gets him a sense that he failed somehow, as a friend.

But then again, he doesn't blame Chuck. They're both really new at this so Mike couldn't expect to be reliable on the subject right from the start. He sighs, shaking his head at himself, and calls out.] Hey, wait up!

[dieharder]

[It's not that Chuck's dismissing it, rather the opposite. He just doesn't really know what to say to this, and he's pretty sure words wouldn't do any difference right now. Most times, when it came to them, they never did. They were always too small an expression, never quite conveying all they wanted to each other.

Still, he stops and waits under the doorframe, looking back at Mike - unsure if he still wanted to say anything else, but leaving that option open.]

[livefaster]

[He steps closer to his friend, smiles and slipping into Chuck's personal space as easily as ever. His hands are still in his pockets, because he can capture the scent of his shirt's conditioner, except when he draws one to hold onto Chuck's wrist, turned up, waiting for him to draw a hologram with the time - he just remembered they hadn't checked since they woke up.]

Pick you up later? Around... 3?

[dieharder]

[Chuck nods at Mike, though if not for his hand around his wrist Chuck would probably be checking the time by now. Or maybe not; just a last effort to keep the rush and the world outside at bay, if only for a few more minutes.]

Yeah, sure! I mean, if it's not 3 already... [Though he knows it isn't. Texas would be whining for lunch by now.] we haven't even looked at the time today.

[livefaster]

[Mike grins, and lets go of Chuck's wrist, at least with his fingers.] Wanna check?

[It's very unlikely and it's mostly wishful thinking, but he actually wishes it's 3. Even if he has a lot of things to do, the idea that what they've been doing lasted so long sits well with Mike to an extent he didn't know it could reach. It meant that they've only been worried with nothing but each other during a lot of time. That they've created this much of a shelter together. ]

[dieharder]

[He shrugs, and it's with little dedication and a lot of reluctance that he pulls up a small holoscreen, one with just a digital projection of a clock.] Five past midday.

[He shoots a surprised glance at Mike. It's later than he thought it'd be, but it's much earlier than he was hoping it was. Still, it's a good hour, he thinks. Gives him enough time to finish everything up before Mike picks him up, especially because he's not feeling particularly hungry right now.] I think I'm gonna skip lunch.

[livefaster]

[His eyebrows arch, expecting some other hour to show up. Except were any other time on the screen and Mike would find it surprising anyway. He nods.] I'll get you something to eat on the way, if you want.

[dieharder]

[Chuck grins again, nodding while making a pleased noise. Like he'd ever refuse such an irresistible offer.] Yes, please.