Work Text:
“If you love it so much, then why don’t you marry it?”
Chuck scowled at a certain blonde dickhead who’d just interrupted his contentment. Raleigh raised an eyebrow in response and flicked Chuck’s nose with a finger, which he then spluttered at and batted away.
“Don’t be weird,” Chuck said, prodding at Raleigh’s ribs. “Marrying a sweater? True blue crazy, mate.”
To his irritation, Raleigh merely gave him an amused smirk and settled back down against the armrest of the sofa. However, Chuck wasn’t too irritated to give up burying his face in Raleigh’s newest, lumpiest, ugliest and most comfortable sweater yet. The man had a problem. But he couldn’t really complain, Chuck reflected as he found the optimum spot to smother Raleigh with his body.
Raleigh winced. “Christ, you’re dense, kid.”
“I’m also an invalid,” Chuck replied, waving one of his crutches under Raleigh’s nose. “Watch what you say, Ray.”
Initially, he’d hated his crutches with the fire of a thousand Queensland summers. Over the months following the destruction of the Breach, however, he’d found a few…uses for them. Namely they assisted in his favourite activity, which was finding new and innovative ways to piss Raleigh off.
It hadn’t exactly escaped Chuck’s attention that irritating people was his usual form of showing interest. Neither had it escaped his dad, his dog, or Mako Mori, who’d eventually given Raleigh a push (literally).
So now Chuck was stuck with a dickhead for a boyfriend. Great.
“Where’d ya get this one, then?” Chuck asked, slipping a hand under the soft woollen hem to lie against warm skin. Raleigh winced again, probably because Chuck’s hands were freezing. Good. It was his own bloody fault for being in a relationship with an Australian in the Chinese winter in a Shatterdome which some drongo had designed without a heating system.
“Tendo got it for me,” he answered absently, more occupied with trying to tug Chuck’s hand back out from under his sweater. Of course, Chuck was happy to join it with the other, which was even colder.
“I like it. Looks good.” Chuck pushed both hands further up, lifting the sweater to expose Raleigh’s torso to the cold air. This was accompanied by a smirk at Raleigh, and a feeling of sweet, sweet vindication - only last week had Raleigh stole all of the blankets (including the heated one) from Chuck’s bunk, and stashed them in the sheilas’ toilet. Chuck wasn’t a sheila, but he was secure in his masculinity to stride right in there, flipping off a snickering Raleigh on the way out.
Raleigh pinched Chuck’s ear. “Stop that,” he said. “Brat.”
“Aren’t you meant to be tough, mate?” Chuck grinned, but obligingly tugged it back down. He wasn’t that cruel. “I thought you lived in Alaska.”
“I thought you were slightly older than twelve, but apparently we were both wrong.”
Scoffing, Chuck pushed himself up. “Well, if that’s how you see me,” he said airily, making to leave. Predictably enough he was stopped by an arm around his waist and lips behind his ear.
“Aw, baby, you know I don’t mean it.”
Maintaining his expression of petulance, Chuck snickered inwardly. Raleigh was so predictable. Chuck leaned back into the stupid bear hug anyway, cause his sweater was soft and his body was warm. Apparently boyfriends do have a use after all.
Raleigh pressed a (slightly prickly - idiot needs to shave) kiss to Chuck’s cheek, and despite himself he could feel his frown morphing into a probably sickening smile. He twisted his mouth to at least attempt to hide it, but Raleigh shuffled closer and wound the other arm around him too, brushing his lips against Chuck’s shoulder. A way stronger man than Chuck Hansen would’ve found it hard not to grin at that.
“You’re disgusting, Ray,” he said anyway. Couldn’t get too sappy. Had to at least sort of maintain his image of being insufferable and prickly.
Setting his chin on Chuck’s shoulder, Raleigh hummed pensively. “Probably. But I’m only sappy for you.”
Chuck gave an exaggerated groan as Raleigh snickered and kissed at his jaw. God, he was horrifying. Chuck really didn’t know why he put up with him.
Probably just for the sweaters.