Title: Downtime
Description: "...But then again, Mike Chilton is decorating his boyfriend's hair with flowers and has one of his own tucked behind his ear, and just called him cute and if anyone could see them right now they'd never hear the end of it." Just another sickeningly sweet, plotless one-shot.
Pairing(s): Mike/Chuck
Word Count: 1,924
Notes: This fic is for Mandyjoke! On Tumblr! Who wanted these two big gay babies holding hands and making flower crowns and just being cute. And I dunno, I haven't seen a lot of nice fics lately (or any fics at all for that matter), and I thought the fandom could use something a little bit light. So here is dumb fluff.

It's days like these, where the lights in Motorcity are working at full capacity and shining down almost as bright as the sun itself, that Mike's wishes go against his instincts and he hopes that Kane's enjoying the day as much as he is and finds himself otherwise preoccupied.

If Mike actually knew that Julie was Kane's daughter he might know that it's during these days where she keeps herself up in Deluxe, distracting Kane and trying to keep him busy with things while Mike and Chuck laze about and enjoy themselves. She does it for them, because she knows they need the downtime. Though she never questions them, never mentions these days and isn't even quite sure what exactly it is that they're even doing, she knows that these days are few and far between and she'll help provide them whenever she can.

Some days, like this day, Mike drives off in Mutt a little slower than usual and Chuck doesn't scream so much as he just lets out the odd yelp. They find themselves in a little less peril and Mike takes a few less risks, and by the time they're outside of what used to be the Detroit city limits, Chuck is only slightly worked up over the ride.

Their communicators stay on, just in case, and they really haven't travelled that far. Far enough that no one can track them, but close enough that they can get back quickly if they're needed. On any other day Mike's habits might annoy Chuck, but right now, he's too relaxed to really care.

"Hey, Chuck," Mike calls, stepping out of Mutt and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. His eyes glint in a mischievous smile, and Chuck frowns as his mind races to try and guess what exactly Mike could be thinking. Mutt's door is cool under his fingers as he closes it, and with a weary sigh, Chuck leans against her roof.

"What?" he asks.

Mike disappears as he ducks down for a second, and when he resurfaces, he tosses a handful of flower petals at him. "Catch."

"I—augh!" Chuck waves his hands in front of his face as he tries to stop the assault, and though he manages to knock most of them out of the air before they can hit their target, as soon he lowers his arms Mike's already tossed a second bunch. They hit him noiselessly, some sticking to his shirt and hair though most falling harmlessly to the ground. Letting out an indignant snort, Chuck blows his bangs out of his face. "That wasn't fair."

"Yes it was," Mike responds, grinning far too cocky a grin for Chuck's liking.

He climbs over Mutt's roof, quicker than Mike was obviously expecting because he doesn't give himself enough time to jump back before Chuck's sent them both sprawling towards the ground. The grass is soft here, up to their knees with long stalks and flowers and probably some weeds (though Mike and Chuck really can't tell them from the good plants) and it doesn't hurt when they fall. Chuck madly reaches around himself, grabbing handfuls of petals and leaves and really whatever he can get his hands on to dump them on Mike's face.

Mike, however, is too busy laughing to try and defend himself, and bats uselessly at the oncoming assail as Chuck throws handful after handful.

Though looks ridiculous, his face a barely visible tan under the giant pile of whites and pinks and purples and yellows, Mike makes no effort to brush himself off. His laugh is good-natured and he reaches out to clasp Chuck's face in his hands, and at that point, Chuck can't take much more and bursts out into giggles as well.

"Do I look that bad?" Mike asks, grinning.

"No," Chuck answers. "You look worse."

"Perfect."

Chuck swipes at the flowers so he can kiss Mike, bending down and holding onto his shoulders for support. "Aren't you going to wipe those off?"

"Nope."

"What if they're poisonous?"

"Then it's your fault, isn't it?"

He's still wearing that shit-eating grin as Chuck quickly wipes the piles of grass and flowers and the likes off his face, picking out the ones he likes the most and settling them on Mike's chest instead of throwing them away. He likes flowers—so sue him.

Mike holds the flowers to keep them from falling as he sits up, picking through the ones with stems and the ones without to make two separate piles. There isn't a whole lot for Chuck to do at this point, so he just leans back, his hand resting comfortably on Mike's knee.

He likes touching Mike, just as he likes it when Mike touches him—gentle touches, reassuring ones. Touches that don't mean much more than 'I'm here,' which a lot of the time is all that really needs to be said. They're touchey-feely people, the two of them, so neither minds it at all.

Chuck's almost dozed off by the time Mike shifts, holding a ring of flowers all tied to one another and nudging at Chuck to get up. His smile reminds him of a puppy, eager and excited and innocent all at once. He groans and allows himself to be pulled up.

"Lord Vanquisher should have a crown," Mike comments, and Chuck almost laughs out loud because that comment is so cheesy and unnecessary all at once but Mike looks so proud of himself he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from letting out a guffaw.

Instead, he scrunches up his mouth and lowers his head. "Oh my god."

Mike's smile is blinding, and Chuck feels like he's going to die as he places a flower tiara on his head. Anyone who thinks that Mike's a big tough guy obviously knows nothing, because big tough guys don't make flower tiaras for their boyfriends.

Though Chuck supposes maybe they do. Mike's doing it, after all.

"Now if I get poisoned, you will, too."

Chuck closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. "How in any way is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

With a shrug, Mike takes his head and lies down beside him. "It isn't."

It isn't fair that Chuck's the only one that has to wear flowers in his hair. He picks a particularly large one from the grass beside him, dark orange-yellow that seems to glow in the bright center, and tucks it behind his hair. There. Now they're even.

Mike doesn't mind, and leans his head against Chuck's hand when he brushes against his temple.

"The guys are going to miss us," Chuck comments.

Mike shrugs. "They would have contacted us by now if they did."

"You turned our communicators off."

"They'd find a way."

Chuck wants to tell him no, only he'd be able to find a way, but he just rolls his eyes and lets himself fall down beside him. Their shoulders brush and their hands are still clasped, and Chuck wishes that they had a sky instead of the bottom of Deluxe to look at. He's watched movies, read books, where star-crossed lovers spend time in fields like these, making flower jewelry for one another like they do (even though they haven't been used in playful fights beforehand) and holding hands like them. But there are clouds, and they comment about the different shapes they can pick out and smile and fall asleep because they don't have anything to worry about.

Though Mike's grin could light up all of Motorcity, Chuck can't bring himself to feel as giddy. He's always been the one prone to worrying, and he can't help himself. They're jus kids, yet none of them feel like it. They should be going to school and messing themselves up with parties and staying up too late; not fighting every day to just stay alive. They're just kids.

Mike might know about that, but having lived this way his entire life in Motorcity, Chuck does not. Sure, he and the gang have fun every now and again, but he feels older than most people twice his age do.

"Mike?" he starts, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Hmm?"

"Do you miss having a sky to look up to?"

He can feel Mike tense up a bit, but before he can apologize, Mike shrugs. "I don't know. I did at first, but I think it doesn't seem so important when I've got you guys to make up for it." Sitting up, he leans over to peck a kiss to his lips, his coy grin back in full tilt. "And besides, who needs the sun when I've got you?"

Chuck can't help himself as he groans, wrenching his hand free from Mike's to cover his face. "Aww, come on, Mikey!" he cries, already feeling the blood rush to his face. And Mike, the little shit, just lets out a chuckle as he watches him squirm. "You did not just say that."

"I did," Mike challenges, picking some of the discarded flowers from the ground to put them in Chuck's tangled hair. "You've done all that reading and movie-watching, did they never compare blonde's hair to the sun?"

Chuck wishes he would just die. He shakes his head, embarrassment confusing him on whether to laugh or cry.

"One day, when Kane's on vacation or something, we'll take our own. Just drive around Mutt for a few days, get outside of Motorcity limits and out from under this…thing. I'll show you real fields and real skies and real everything."

As embarrassed as he is, Chuck peeks out from between his fingers and sees the sincerity in Mike's face. He's never been outside the limits before; he's been holed up in Motorcity his whole life.

"That sounds nice."

Mike slips in a couple more flowers, squinting at him, and then nods. "I like that look on you. You look cute."

"Mike, I am not wearing these back."

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy them for now."

Chuck rolls his eyes again, not quite able to bring himself to pull the various flowers or weeds or whatever the hell they are out just to bug him—and maybe gain some of his dignity back. But then again, Mike Chilton is decorating his boyfriend's hair with flowers and has one of his own tucked behind his ear, and just called him cute and if anyone could see them right now they'd never hear the end of it.

(Except for Julie, of course. She'd chastise Mike about his hair-decorating skills and completely redo it, and Chuck would probably die for real as she and Mike argued about which flower would go where. He knows this from experience.)

"We should get back," Chuck argues again, just for the sake of arguing.

"No we shouldn't."

"We have stuff to do."

"We can do it later."

"What if Kane's attacking?"

"We'd know."

Chuck scoffs. "No we wouldn't."

"Yeah, we would," Mike counters, turning on to his side to face Chuck. "We're fine. Stop worrying."

"Mike, telling me to stop worrying is like telling you to drive slower."

"I can drive slower."

"My ass you can drive slower."

"Watch your language."

"No. Shit."

Much to his chagrin, Mike laughs. Tomorrow, they'll probably be out dodging blasts and fighting Kane with everything they've got. But for now, they can just relax and enjoy each other's company.

"Maybe another hour."

"Two."

"One and a half."

Mike leans over, pressing a kiss to Chuck's lips. "Two."

"…Okay fine, two."