Chapter Text
The swirling sounds of conversation, the scent of alcohol and just-too-much perfume, the feeling of hot lights at his clothed back – it was definitely a charity event night. Raleigh swirled a glass of scotch in his hand before taking a sip. Thank God, he was finally old enough to drink at one of these events. He’d gotten lucky the few times the PPDC attended ones in countries with lower drinking ages, but since he’d turned twenty-one, he didn’t have to worry about that issue anywhere.
And there was nothing he needed more tonight than alcohol. Especially if said alcohol was undoubtedly top-shelf.
A hand reached steadily for one of his shoulders. Yancy swaggered over, all casual grace and carefree smirk. “You ready for the main event, kiddo?”
Raleigh shuddered slightly and took another large gulp of scotch; the burn was a good distraction. “About as ready as I’ll ever be. Fuck’s sake, why exactly did we sign up for this again?”
His brother shifted to fling that arm all the way over his shoulders. “Because it’s for charity, Raleigh. How would the two Gipsy pilots be as apple pie as they are if they didn’t participate in something as soul-fulfilling as charity?” Sarcasm dripped from the over-the-top words, the only indication that Yancy was as fed up with being paraded around as the PPDC’s show pony as he was.
A passing party guest shot them an affronted look. Yancy straightened his tie and sipped from his own glass. “Whoops.”
Raleigh couldn’t help but grin in response. Classic Yancy. If he stood any chance of surviving the night with his sanity, he’d have to play catch-up. So he downed the rest of his glass and reached around Yancy’s broad back to snag another one from a passing waiter. These types of black tie events, while as stuffy and pretentious as one would expect, generally kept the alcohol flowing in earnest. They had previously suffered through the regular PPDC talks about not getting plastered at these events, although Yancy was probably going to cut it close with this one.
And as one of the main hosts approached the stage of the room, Raleigh could understand why.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention?”
Raleigh sighed. It was for charity, after all. He took another large gulp of scotch, repeating that mantra in his head, as the host continued.
“I would like to start by thanking all of you for attending this event. With your participation, I estimate that our charity of choice will be set for the next year!”
A firm hand grasped his forearm. Raleigh turned just as acting Marshall Stacker Pentecost tugged what was his third (fourth?) scotch glass from his hands. “Gentlemen.”
Yancy comically tried to shield his own glass by hiding it behind his thigh. One steely look from the Marshall was all it took for the elder Becket to abandon it at a nearby table.
“I hope the two of you are prepared to honor the PPDC by participating on your best behavior,” Pentacost continued. His threatening gaze had Raleigh anything but wondering what would happen if they weren’t. The thought even seemed to sober Yancy up a bit.
“So, without further pause, please allow me to introduce the two heroes of the night; the pilots of Gipsy Danger, Yancy and Raleigh Becket!”
Yancy nudged him in the ribs as they ascended the stage and flashed the most arrogant smirk, more to him than to the crowd. “See that, kid? Introduced me first. They know who’s the best.”
“You wish, old man. Let’s see who brings in the most money.”
“You’re on, kiddo. Loser picks up the beer.”
“Deal.”
Stuffy tuxedo, stuffy tie, stuffy atmosphere. It was all unbearably stuffy and the last place he wanted to be; shit, including in a pile of leftover kaiju guts from a good kill. Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets, staring ruefully at the passing glasses of high-end liquor around him. Old enough to begin his training as a Ranger, old enough to commission work on a jaeger, but not old enough to drink alcohol. Whatever bloody tosser decided that was a good idea, he didn’t know.
Of course, his father had to come over while he was staring wistfully at the glasses around them. “Don’t even try it, kid.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Chuck grumbled. Besides, he already had his prize for the night. The fists stuffed into his pocket were clutching dozens of raffle tickets. It had taken him a good amount of spending money, and a good amount of recent Christmas money, but he’d purchased enough raffle tickets to give himself a good chance at winning.
Because the opportunity to win something like this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
It wouldn’t be long now. Chuck clutched the papers in his hands firmly. He didn’t want to miss watching the Beckets in all their glory, up on stage and close as he’d ever been to them, but he definitely didn’t want to be caught dead searching through all his tickets for what he hoped was the winning one.
As he hovered behind Herc’s back, he caught some of the conversation around him.
“…can’t believe you didn’t hear about it. Yeah, one of the ticket counters was telling me earlier someone bought a large chunk of tickets. Yeah, all for themselves. Can you imagine, being desperate enough for something like that?”
Any embarrassment he felt was quickly smothered by the familiar burn of anger slowly unfurling in his stomach. He opened his mouth to silence the old bugger–
–when one of Herc’s large hands discretely settled on his lower back. “Yeah, if you call philanthropy desperate, mate,” his father drawled. “Some of us call it human decency.”
While he didn’t need Herc to fight his battles for him, Chuck was grateful for the validity. He’d expected Herc of all people to lecture him on wasting money on something like this, but he was surprisingly understanding about the whole bloody thing. Even more so, Chuck realized, when he felt Herc’s hand slip something into his pocket as the complainer turned away from the two.
Another handful of tickets.
Raleigh took to the stage and flashed his most endearing, open smile. It was the one the public liked most; the one he usually reserved for magazine covers and TV interviews. He had this part of fame down pat. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the attention for the ego boost, or even the tail he and Yancy ended up swimming in (although a definite perk). What he enjoyed the most was the fact that the attention showed him just how much people appreciated what he and Yancy did. Sure, the training had been vicious and the fights no less demanding, but knowing that people honestly admired and appreciated what they did made it all worth it.
The applause was thundering. Yancy wrapped one arm over his shoulder again, a move that always drove people wild, and saluted the audience. The media in particular ate up the closeness between the two, he’d learned (although several sources often took that closeness too far, gross). No, he didn’t expect the public to understand just what it was like to Drift, to let another person into you, mind and soul. It made it easier that it was his brother, but still, having no secrets with someone was no picnic.
And it was the public that arranged for things like tonight. Not the events specifically, but there was someone out there pandering to the fans that thought creating raffles like these would bring more good press to the PPDC. Even at the cost of its Rangers.
“Kiddo.” Yancy’s fingers tapped gently at the back of his hand. “Relax. They’re not auctioning us off like cattle. Fix your face.”
He was grinning too hard, Yancy was right. Raleigh shook his head and let out a shaky laugh. Yancy was always right. This was far from the worst he’d faced in the name of the PPDC.
“So, ladies and gents,” the host continued, “please get your tickets ready! Two of you lucky attendees will win dates with these fine gentlemen, paid for completely by the PPDC! Dates will take place at a date and time of you and your suitor’s choosing. Nothing too fancy, of course. Some of that money should make it to the charity.” The crowd laughed.
“I hope I don’t get some old wrinkled bag,” Raleigh hissed gently.
Yancy only grinned further. “Not like you haven’t ever jumped on that grenade before.” Raleigh made a face. “Sorry to say today’s gonna be no different, kiddo. Not my fault I’m the handsome Becket.”
“It’s a raffle, Yance. It’s all random; that’s the point.”
His brother snorted. “Yeah, right, Rals. Why do you think tickets come at a price? More money, more tickets, more influence on whether you get this hot piece of ass or not.”
“I hope your date’s an ugly gold digger.”
“I hope your date’s that old bitty in the corner.”
“So.” The Host’s booming voice drew Raleigh’s attention back to the event. “Which one of you gentlemen would like to go first?”
Yancy gestured for him to go, but Raleigh held up his hands in a ‘no, please, I couldn’t possibly’ gesture. Loud enough for the crowd to hear, he added, “After you, please. Age before beauty, old man.”
Laughter broke out from audience as Yancy threw him a rueful smirk before stepping forward.
“This first auction is for the older Becket, a charming fellow by the name of Yancy. Born in 1995, Yancy is six-foot, blonde hair, blue-eyed, and all-American as apple pie.” The crowd tittered again; Raleigh rolled his eyes dramatically for comic effect. “Yancy is a true gentleman, an old-school romantic looking for someone to hold tight until the end of days. And that lucky person can be you, with the right ticket, that is. So, folks; get out your tickets and let’s see!”
Raleigh snickered. Yancy awkwardly standing at the front of the stage was something to behold. He knew everything in his brother was telling him to flip him off for laughing, but the cameras would have a field day. So Yancy settled for subtly lifting his middle finger at Raleigh behind his back.
“The winning numbers are: seven, eleven, seventeen, eight, four, and twenty-one!”
A shrill sort of laughter pealed through the room. Raleigh’s gaze followed until he settled on a group of what looked like young, twenty-something women, one of which was hurrying forward. Once she was up close, Raleigh couldn’t help his upper lip from curling slightly. She was the epitome of a jaeger fly; long blonde hair, boobs too-emphasized in a dress not nearly appropriate enough for a black-tie event, makeup just this side of over-the-top.
Yancy was going to have a field day.
Sure enough, the elder Becket’s lips turned up in a smirk as she approached the stage. He offered a hand to steady her up the stairs and tossed her a casual, “How you doin’, sweetheart?”
The girl practically melted. Raleigh rolled his eyes again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d seen the Becket charm in action. In Yancy’s case, it worked far many more times than not. And as usual, he was getting off easy. He grimaced at the thought of who he’d be paired up with.
Yancy’s grip on his arm and a quick swat to his ass caused Raleigh to jump as he was hauled forward on the stage. “Go get ‘em, kiddo!”
Stumbling to an ungraceful stop at the edge of the stage was neither a smooth move to ensure a solid date nor a way to prove his finesse as a jaeger pilot, yet here he was. Raleigh recovered with what Yancy called his best puppy-dog grin, all earnest and dopey as he glanced around the crowd. There were several of the standard older donors ambling around the floor as the party waited for his announcement. The rest of the jaeger-fly party was staring at him with wide, over-eager smiles and high-pitched giggles. He shuddered. Not enough alcohol in the world for him to be able to deal with that.
“Raleigh Becket, the younger of the Gipsy pair, has quite an impressive track record. As one of the youngest pilots to enlist and graduate from the academy, Raleigh has proven himself many times over despite his youth by working up the ranks and being half of the team that has, to date, the highest kaiju kill count.” The host paused and had the nerve to ruffle Raleigh’s hair lightly. “And, just look at that smile. Who wouldn’t want a date with this man?”
It took everything in him not to bite out at the host’s goddamn hand. Pentacost’s earlier glare was effective at curbing the desire, though he couldn’t resist the steely glare he shot the man.
“Uh…” The host paused (likely in response to Raleigh’s deadly glare) before he shook himself lightly and continued. “Right. So. For the right to take this charming young gentleman on a date, be the lucky person to have these numbers–”
He spaced as the host read the numbers. Yeah, he knew these events had a positive effect on a lot of spheres in his life, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t become tired of them. He was looking forward to when he could finally remove the offending fabric around his neck and lay in what was hopefully one of the most comfortable beds in the hotel (eighteen-hundred thread count sheets, yet another perk of the job). All he had to do was suffer through the rest of the night, pick a day and time with whatever unfortunate soul he would be stuck with, and then–
“–ladies and gents, if this is you, please step forward!”
People in the crowd turned to look at one another. Murmuring started slow and rose as time passed, tension filling the air. And then–
“Congratulations, sir!”
Raleigh’s eyes found the parting crowd and he stopped short.
The kid heading toward him (and kid was the first word that came to mind, though he had to be more like late teens) looked harder around the edges than most pilots or veterans of war he’d seen. He was just beginning to fill his tuxedo out nicely, though it would probably be a few years until he grew out of the gawky length of his limbs and lost the baby-roundness of his cheeks. His tie was a bit too loose, and the ginger-spiked hair was a bit unruly, but that contrast seemed to work with the black-tie attire.
He stuck his hand out to the kid when he reached the stage as Yancy had done, but instead of accepting it, the kid simply climbed the steps and stopped just short of his personal space.
Up close, the kid was even more startling. Blue-green eyes bored into his own, made darker by the black of the tuxedo under him. Raleigh could detect somewhat of a challenge in the depths, though deep down he noticed a bit of uncertainty beyond the swagger the kid had strode up to the stage with. Uncertainty, and a bit of nervousness, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Well, that wraps up tonight’s event! Thank you all for your time, and your patronage, of course!” the host added with a laugh. “Tonight’s collection, along with the sizeable contribution Raleigh’s raffle brought in, is something to be proud of! I know our charity will be grateful of your donation. Feel free to enjoy the rest of the food and drink, and have a good night!”
The kid’s nerves surfaced as the crowd began to disperse and Raleigh found himself more and more alone with him.
He did his best to smile honestly. “Hi. What’s your name?”
The kid’s eyes narrowed slightly at his smile, but he seemed to have some semblance of manners as he stuck his hand forward rigidly and murmured, “’m Chuck. Chuck Hansen.”
Raleigh took his hand, noting the rough, calloused pads of his fingers and the unmistakable jaeger grease deep under the fingernails. “Hansen? Wait, you’re Herc’s kid, aren’t you?”
Chuck’s lips drew into a tight line, but he nodded his assent.
He knew how bad it sucked to be under somebody’s shadow; even now, he was referred to more times than he liked as just ‘Yancy’s brother’, so Raleigh quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag your old man into this. I met him a while back on a three jaeger drop, but… We’re not here for that, we’re here for you.” The kid’s expression turned a bit confused at these words. “The date – what day works for you?”
The tips of Chuck’s ears turned slightly red; the lovely flush traveled down the back of the kid’s neck as he glanced at the ground, scuffing one dress-shoed toe. “Look, ‘m sorry about this, too. It doesn’t have to be a date. I just…”
The long-suffering sigh the kid made finally clicked everything into place. He was a fan, not just of Gipsy but of Raleigh specifically, and embarrassed by just how much so. The uncertainty from before undoubtedly came from Chuck worrying that Raleigh would be an asshole about the whole thing. Or tease him to no end about the hero worship.
So this grin was nothing but genuine as he reached a hand out to Chuck’s shoulder. “Nothing I’d enjoy more than taking a fan out for a night on the town. I mean that. So, what would Chuck like to do for a rousing evening out?”
Christ, when the kid looked up and finally smiled – were those goddamn dimples? He was gonna rival Yancy’s streak with the ladies when he finally came into his prime.
“I dunno, mate.” Chuck rubbed the back of his neck as he added, “Nothing extravagant, yeah? Not that kinda guy. Figured maybe just dinner, hanging out?”
The earnest tone was killing him. Raleigh grinned further. “Sure, kid. Anything. How’s tomorrow night sound? If you’re staying here, we can just meet in the lobby around six and go from there.”
“Tomorrow…” Chuck’s gaze darkened for a second as he thought, and then brightened. The dimples were back out in full-force. “Ace. Tomorrow sounds great.”
Good thing, because judging by what was happening in the corner of his eye between Yancy and the newest jaeger fly, he was going to want to be anywhere but the hotel room tomorrow.