Written for the kinkmeme prompt: Herc/Chuck. The reason they're constantly arguing in public is because they're terrified of anyone finding out how close they are. When they're alone, they're actually rather tender.
XXX
his kisses in shapes of smiles
XXX
Sometimes Striker's crew will step in, looking at Herc like he's the kind of men that hits his own son even when it never comes to actual blows. And sometimes the other Jaeger pilots will step in, looking at Chuck like he's just the kind of kid that will never be better than this.
But with the way the Hansens look red in the face, fists clenched tight enough to crush bones, no one is surprised if or when it does come to blows. And that's just the way it's always been for the two of them.
So when the alarms go wild with Kaiju signature, they will fit themselves into each other's heads. Going out there in the rain and waves, they will mark another kill with another Kaiju stamped into their drive suits. And people will forget everything they've done to each other outside of the Conn-Pod because they are Striker's pilots, the one and only.
They learn that a lot can be forgiven in the face of an imminent end. And for all that they are, and all that they will be, Hercules and Charles Hansen are okay with this. They are heroes but they have never pretend to be good people, not next to everyone else that is.
Walking out of the Kwoon, Chuck is angry, but when isn't he? Except Herc has a black eye he can't hide and Chuck's hand is red, and people talk.
(Neither one of them ever try to explain themselves. That it is Herc who didn't step aside quick enough and Chuck who couldn't pull his grip back fast enough. That it was a good fight regardless. That the anger hasn't been for anyone else but Chuck Hansen himself when he could finally stop fussing over the purpling skin around his father's eye.)
People talk, and that is just the way it is.
The words cut deep but they are all visceral wounds.
(They can't always protect the one they love, but they can die along side of them when it finally happens. Herc doesn't forget Angela, but neither does Chuck. With what little memory he still has of her, he takes the rest from his father in the drift.)
What hurts isn't what is out there, what hurts is when he's in his head and he still can't seem to find the right words to express how much he loves him.
Herc blinks open an eye and Chuck is a silhouette against the lights from the hallway. He unclips Max's leash from his collar and the dog is already clamouring over to the edge of the bed.
"Let me see your hand, kid." Herc murmurs when Chuck finally gets into bed with him, bringing Max into the mess of arms and legs and two fully grown men trying to fit on a single bunk. "It's not a big deal, dad."
But he brings his hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, five for five, mouth brushing over bruised flesh and torn skin. And when Herc finally lets go, Chuck pushes up on the bed to press his mouth over the curve of his father's cheekbone, right below the shiner he gave him this afternoon.
"I should be seeing how you're doing."
Chuck's voice is rough against the shell of his ear. And Herc ends up laying another kiss over the top of his son's head in reassurance.
"I'm fine now, Chuck."
Herc has a hard time smiling when they are out there beating down monsters with their fists but this is not that. This is the farthest thing from that when Chuck curls into him with a contented sigh, lays his head on his father's arm and lets the man curl a hand over his hips just a little tighter.
It's a wordless promise that he'll never let go, that it's going to be just them, always close enough to touch.
For the longest time, they look at monsters and think of murder, they look to the end of the world and see themselves at the bottom of the ocean. (But they always look at each other and see a perfect thing.) And for the longest time, Hercules and Chuck Hansen have made peace with just that.
XXX Kuro
