Written for day 11 of the Hansencest Advent Calendar event over on tumblr. Note, 'Christmas Bush' is a native plant in Australia that has cream coloured flowers that turn bright red around the week of Christmas.
XXX
when the sepals turn red
XXX
The water is blue.
And it isn't the kind of blue that can have him waking up in cold sweat from the phantom pain that lingers down his entire body. It is the kind of blue that he's saved the world for. The kind that he can still remember from days where the water is just an endless stretch of summers by the sea instead of an eleven years war.
He may ache for Striker like a missing limb but this is the new world where all that he's lost finally gave him back just a little something: water that he doesn't need to be strapped in a Jaeger to step into.
Four years ago he died, for a solid minute or two, but the Hansens don't talk about that. Chuck is twenty-five, and there is a stifling hot breeze that has him pulling his grey tee over his head as soon as he steps out of the house.
And this too is what he has saved the world for: a home by the sea, a private stretch of Australian beach, and a father that knows him inside out.
"You're going to burn, Chuck."
He turns to the voice that belongs to the man standing just on the inside of the terrace doors. Chuck squints against the glare of the sun as Herc catches the shirt he throws at him with an effortless ease.
"You say that like it's a bad thing, dad."
"It is when I can't have you flat on your back."
But it's not so much a scowl but a smirk when Herc's lips curve, and that goes straight to Chuck's collection of things that he finally gets to keep without reserve. His eyes glint when he shoots his mouth off again, because he may not be in his dad's head anymore but he still knows what he likes.
And he likes this best.
"I thought you'd appreciate the view when I'm rid—"
He gets cut off when the bottle of sunscreen comes hurtling at his head, it still isn't a scowl but Chuck can't say he doesn't love this too. He slathers on a good amount of sunscreen, waits expectantly before Herc is stepping out into the sun to smear some more over the places he's missed.
His hands are warm over his skin, hot over the ache beneath the muscles.
Herc rubs a thumb across the bridge of his son's nose, over the freckles and the slight bump from his fight with Becket almost five years ago. "The lot of 'em are coming the day after, we still have to get some of those bush to decorate the place up."
Chuck makes a soft noise before pushing the bottle of sunscreen back into his dad's hands.
"Still have to think what presents to get Mori and Becket."
"The Marshal too."
Physical therapy is a bitch, still is, but the kid learns that he has an affinity for swimming. And it isn't that Chuck doesn't want to keep his dad's hands on him, he does, but he is itching out of his skin for a splash. Maybe one day, he will entertain his old man with the thought of a kiddy pool in their front yard instead.
Right now though, he wants his toes in the sand, and dad knows just as well.
"We'll think of something."
Herc waves him off and watches Chuck as he starts to jog the distance to the edge of the water. His back is a mangled mess of circuitry burns and skin grafts beneath the sun. The blue glistens.
And there's not a single doubt that he's the most perfect thing.
XXX Kuro