Written for the kinkmeme prompt: Gen or ship, Herc makes a nest for Chuck. Based on this (a comic by Robot Hugs called Nest). Chuck isn't feeling well emotionally and ofc he doesn't know how to express it, and ofc Herc doesn't know what to say, so he makes him a nest. Asks him if he's ever coming out and Chuck says "no."
"Ok. Hang on." And he joins him. + Max is there too. Gen family feels, or incest ship (as long as it's between consenting adults).
Title based on the title of the comic this prompt is based on (what a mouthful but my god is that comic the best thing).
XXX
Nest
XXX
The house they have is far from the ocean. A place where he can't hear the water rushing in with the tides even when the waves don't know how to stop crashing over the rocks in his head. It's been years, and it will be years more. The Breach is closed (for good, he hopes) but grief is not a state. It is a process stretched out over time.
In a corner of a bed that is twice the size of his bunk in all the Shatterdomes that he has made into a home, Chuck is lying flat on his back. The blankets have been tossed to the ground, and he is carefully still, breathing in deep breaths that fills his lungs.
It is pass noon.
Chuck doesn't move.
"You can come in, you know." He says without turning his head, knows that Herc is leaning right against the door, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes stay on the ceiling, just breathes out like it is the most natural thing. Herc takes a step in. He doesn't ask him what's wrong. That would be an insult. Herc's been in Chuck's head, he knows. And he tells him just that.
"I know."
He gathers up the blankets from the floor and sits down at the edge of the bed, reaching out with a war-calloused hand, he brushes his son's hair from his forehead. Scar-ridden fingertips saying I know, kid, I know how this feels in ways Herc doesn't know how to articulate. Chuck glances at him, doesn't smile, doesn't frown, but the shadows around his eyes lighten by a shade. And the nod in return nearly goes unnoticed.
Herc stands up, the bed dips with the motion, and Chuck closes his eyes.
When he opens them again, the waves aren't so loud. He turns on his side and faces the windows, sunshine cascading through the glass panes and onto him. The warmth reminds him of Sydney.
Chuck breathes in deeper.
000
The house they have is surrounded by fields, a stretch of grassy slopes that makes it hard to hide. It is flat for miles on end, they both like that there can't be any surprises. Herc hates that he's been in Scott's head when it all went to hell. Chuck hates that he's been in the head of a man who has made peace with his own demons so many years ago.
Chuck hates that he can't do the same.
When Herc comes back, he doesn't knock, he simply sits down in the same place he vacates. Chuck doesn't lift his head up. But he does pull his knees up, just a bit, curl up just enough for him to touch his father's hip.
"I made you a nest," Herc tells him.
And maybe it should sound weird, but it really isn't. (It can't be, Chuck isn't the only one with a tsunami in his head. Herc has his fair share. He has drifted with the dying and the dead. There is little he hasn't seen, and his head is all that and more, jagged rocks and dust that doesn't settle over ground.)
"…Is Max there?"
"Couldn't kick the fat dog out even if I tried."
"Max's not fat."
The soft chuckle Herc lets out reverberates in the air, and when he gets up, Chuck follows.
000
The house they have has a backdrop of clear, blue sky. Chuck likes it best when Max is still snoring on his chest, makes it hard to breathe just enough to remind him of his doggy presence. Chuck likes it best in the early mornings because he can hear his father downstairs, moving around in the kitchen. The fridge opens, the pan is being set on the stove, the radio turning on low—
"You ever going to come out?"
Chuck stills with the question, Max lets out a low whine. He looks down and starts up the belly rubs once more, watching as Max lies back down in his lap, perfectly content at the way his human answers to his every whim. Chuck can only smile softly before he is glancing back up at his old man, shaking his head after a second in consideration.
"No."
He rubs Max's belly, and digs a hand into the thick blanket he is sitting on.
"Okay, hang on."
Herc disappears into the kitchen, and when he comes out, he is holding two cups of hot chocolate. It isn't cold outside, but that isn't really so much a factor, not when hot chocolate should be made into an everyday food. Herc hands him both cups, mutters a soft "careful" just as Chuck curls his hands around the white porcelain. It is hot. But the heat is a burn that curls and coils into a spreading warmth where the loss has always resided.
The two of them has forgone words a long time ago.
And maybe it should be weird that he doesn't ask him whether he is okay (knows that he isn't). But the waves are lapping at the shore, and the sand beneath their feet is not laced with a toxic blue.
Herc gets in, sits down on Chuck's right. And when he holds out a hand just as he is leaning back into the nest of pillows and blankets he's made for them, Chuck fits the cup in his outstretched hand.
Max paws at dad.
Reaching over, Herc pets the dog, his palm sliding against the fur.
He takes a sip, and slips his fingers into Chuck's hand.
.
In this house they have, they build a home.
XXX Kuro