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Being a rock star is part of being a Jaeger pilot.
Chuck knows because he’s been on both sides of the equation. He’s idolized and become an idol. Most of the time he just enjoys some of the love and moves on with his life. He liked the attention but he doesn’t base his whole life around it. People idolize his dad and he knows what a shit man Herc is, so he doesn’t put that much stock in it. At the end of the day he just tries to let it flow off of him. Not affect him.
Which is why it’s a fucking joke that he’s in the dining hall doing more mashing to his potatoes than eating.
His eyes are on his food but he can see them as clearly as if he had eyes in the back of his head. The cadets idolize pretty boy Becket. He’s their utter and total hero, the one who came back and conquered. He’s a redemption story rolled up in a soul mate romance with Mori and the fucking cadets can’t get enough of it. He’s like those pre-Kaiju movie stars rolled in with the Jaeger pilots.
It makes Chuck sick.
Becket doesn’t deserve the attention. And he especially doesn’t deserve it from that girl with the red braid who has ‘customized’ her uniform within a fucking centimeter of regulation. Seriously even Herc’s eyes linger on her and Chuck’s only too glad to remind ‘Marshall Hansen’ that he isn’t in the market for a new mum. Especially not one whose younger than he is. Becket always smiles back and flirts back and it’s fucking disgusting.
Deciding that his rage is going to keep him from enjoying food he drops his fork and storms out of the mess hall.
Max, wisely, does not follow and Herc, perhaps more wisely, bites his cheek bloody trying not to laugh at his poor son.
Mostly because Becket, who proves himself to be only slightly less foolish, watches Chuck go with a look that makes Herc think he’s going to have to sit the other pilot down for a good long talk on what makes his son tick. Except then Becket drops his own fork and pushes himself up, untangling himself from that busty red head who Herc’s beginning to think may be part vampire and comes over, taking Chuck’s unoccupied seat. Herc quickly stuffs food in his mouth because Becket looks so miserable he wants to give him a moment to collect his thoughts.
"Sir," Becket begins, "is Chuck alright?"
"Boy hasn’t been alright for twelve years," Herc grunts out, "you’ll have to be more specific."
"I mean the past week or so," Raleigh says scratching the back of his neck and Herc spares a thought as to why emotional maturity isn’t a requirement for saving the world, "he’s been acting worse than usual."
"You mean since your busty red head cut off the top part of her tank top and started being your stole?"
Raleigh gives him a blank look and Herc rolls his eyes at the poor boy.
"She’s permanently attached to you," he says.
"Oh," Raleigh says and Herc waits for it, "oh,” he repeats and his eyes widen with understanding as Herc grins, “Chuck’s not—” Raleigh begins, “he can’t be—”
"Jealous?" Herc finishes and Raleigh goes red around the ears. Herc shrugs and stabs at a potato, "but, sir—"
"Look, boy," he says and Raleigh stiffens at the insult, "I’m not sayin what he’s doin is right," he continues, "or that you have to feel the same," he adds, "but my boy isn’t the most emotionally mature person on this planet," he shrugs, "anger’s easier, we both know that, but it doesn’t mean that’s what he feels."
Raleigh swallows and looks down at Chuck’s deserted tray as if it holds the answers. Herc knows it doesn’t, hell he’s looked for answers in food enough in his life to know they aren’t there. Or if they are then the food’s too damn selfish to give them up. But Raleigh keeps staring until he finally clears his throat and Herc sees the red in his ears isn’t fading. If anything it’s spreading and Herc fights not to be surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. He can take no credit for raising Chuck and God knew Chuck could be a little shit sometimes, but Becket didn’t strike him as the type. Except Becket’s still turning and he coughs and looks at him.
"I, uh, do feel the same way," he says.
For the first time since his son opened his eyes and croaked out two syllables Herc feels like a proper father and doesn’t try to hide his glare.
"Fucking hell Becket," he swears, "why are you letting that girl drape herself on you like that?"
Raleigh shrugs and Herc fights not to act like a father. It’s not like cadets tripping over their feet are anything new. Or girls falling over Jaeger pilots is anything new. The red head isn’t doing anything wrong and Becket isn’t the kind to lead someone on. He swipes his hands over his face and Becket looks down hard, like he’s half wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Finally he looks up at him and there’s resolve in his eyes.
"I’ll make it right with him," he swears in that way only Raleigh can swear.
"Becket—" Herc begins and trails off with a sigh, "don’t push him too hard," he says finally, "like I said, he’s best at being angry."
"No offense sir," Raleigh says, "but I think he’s good at other things too."
"Fucking hell," Herc sighs.
Anger is what Chuck does best which is why Raleigh goes to the gym first. Chuck’s not there. Nor is he in the mess hall, his room or in the hangers. Raleigh sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He wonders if maybe Chuck went off base to drink and pretend not to be angry. He heads down to the garage to borrow one of the cars and stops when the one he usually takes is not there. He hears the sound of a radio and follows it to the back of the garage.
He recognizes Chuck’s boots instantly.
They’re sticking out from under the hood of his favorite car. The one the entire base knows he uses. He doesn’t even wonder if Chuck’s damaging it because he knows that if there’s one thing Chuck loves it’s machines. He’s a hell of a mechanic. Raleigh steps over to the side of the car where he knows Chuck can see his boots. He hears the muttered swear and the dolly rolls out.
"There are twenty other cars," Chuck grunts wiping the wrench off.
"That’s fine," Raleigh says with a shrug, "I wasn’t going anywhere."
Chuck pushes himself to his feet and glares as him. But the glare he gives him has an edge to it that Raleigh just catches. He drops the wrench in his insanely organized tool box and looks at Raleigh. Raleigh fights the urge to cross his arms and glare right back. Or slug him. Slugging him is always a tempting option even with the confusing tumble of feelings in his gut. He shouldn’t be surprised that nothing with Chuck would be simple.
"What do you want Becket?" Chuck grunts.
Raleigh fights the urge to swear. Chuck calls him Becket when he’s really pissed off. Usually he’s just Rahleigh, said in that drawl that once again makes Raleigh wants to do a whole mess of things to him. But when he just clips out Raleigh’s last name, Raleigh doesn’t like that.
"I’m hiding out," Raleigh says. Chuck glares silently at the tools.
"Tired of your fan club already?" Chuck snaps.
"Kind of," Raleigh shrugs, "you know how shitty I am at that whole public thing now."
Chuck rolls his eyes and looks at the wrenches as if it takes him more than five seconds to decide what tool he’s going to need. Raleigh decides not to call him out on his bullshit and just watches for as long as he can bear the silence between them.
"So can I ask what you’re doing to my car?" he asks.
"No," Chuck says.
"No?" Raleigh repeats.
"You deaf too Rahleigh?” Chuck sneers, “this isn’t your car. It’s property of the PPDC.”
Raleigh fights not to roll his eyes and not to grin like an idiot at the casual drawl of his name. It sounds like a challenge because for Chuck that’s exactly what it is. Instead he moves forward, invades his personal space just a bit. Just enough so that Chuck’s head flies up and his glare sharpens at Raleigh’s response to his challenge.
"It’s Raleigh," he corrects.
"Rahleigh,” Chuck drawls.
Raleigh tries for a glare that isn’t fooling anyone more than Chuck’s butchered pronunciation of his name. They look at each other for a moment, their gaze challenging each other and it takes everything in Raleigh’s body not to do what he wants to. He settles for just holding Chuck’s gaze, their hands close enough that all it would take would be for him to reach out a finger slightly to touch him.
But they aren’t there.
Not yet, anyway.
Instead Chuck lets out a breath. Except instead of a huff it comes out as a chuckle. He laughs low in his throat and Raleigh joins in. It’s just two of them laughing together with the car and the tools and the smell of grease and metal in the air. Chuck rolls his eyes and grabs the wrench, dropping down onto the dolly and Raleigh waits until he’s underneath the car before picking up the radio.
"You’d better not change the statio—" Raleigh twists the knob.
"Oops," Raleigh drawls.
"Damn it Rahleigh!”