Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5888185.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean/Sam, Wincest, Weecest_-_Relationship
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Endverse_Sam_Winchester, Young_Sam_Winchester_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      highschool_supernatural, Pre_Season_1, Pre_Show, Abuse, non-con
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-03 Updated: 2016-02-22 Chapters: 3/? Words: 5481
****** All the Small Things ******
by kindajared
Summary
     Dean and Sam have been living in the Suburbs of a small town in
     Minnesota. Sam attends high school as a senior. He is soon to be 18.
     He's tired of keeping his feelings for Dean hidden, will he finally
     say something?
     Dean is 21 and works as a mechanic at a near shop, leaving Sam alone
     certain nights as he goes out drinking leaving Sam lonely and missing
     his brother.
     Being and unpopular and bullied kid hasn't helped Sam in
     anyway...except to get Dean's attention
     They have been living alone without their dad for two years.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** The first confession *****
“Dean?” Sam called as he walked in the front door of their basic, sadly
suburban house, shrugging his backpack off. He walked into the living room and
peeked down the hall, “Dea-?” Sam yelped as he felt a presence behind him and
he wiped around, fist penetrating whatever was there. The figure grunted and
dropped a bowl of cereal.
“Sam?! What’s your problem, dude?” Dean scolded as he placed a hand on his
chest, “Fuck, for a high school kid, you can pack a freakin’ punch!” He
groaned.
Sam let out a sigh of relief, “You scared the crap outta me!” He looked down at
the shattered bowl that lay broken. He looked back up at his brother with
furrowed brows, “I called your name almost twice and you didn’t answer, so
naturally I wouldn’t be aware that you were gonna end up right behind me!” He
knelt down to pick up the pieces gently, dipping the tips of his fingers in the
split milk.
Dean rolled his eyes and knelt down, “Stop I got it, punk. Your explanation
just so happens to fit the story.” Sam didn’t stop picking up the pieces and
Dean just let it be.
“Fuck! Of course-.” Sam pulled his hand away, a cut on his index finger. He
shook it off and got up off of the ground, looking down at Dean. Dean looked up
at him with a worried look on his face, “You okay, need a power puff girls
Band-Aid?” He teased. Sam tried not to smile, but failed, “You suck…” He
replied as he walked to the kitchen and tossed the pieces away.
Dean soon followed, pieces in his hand, throwing them away as well. He raised
his arms up to stretch and yawn, “How was school?” He asked mid-yawn. Sam just
shrugged, “School was school, Dean…you know that.” Dean squinted at him and
grabbed at his waist, kneading it, “Hey! Stop!” Sam winced, pulling himself
away. Hissing softly.
“Just school, huh?”
“Yeah…just school…”
Sam tried just exiting the kitchen to get himself out of the conversation, but
Dean grabbed his shoulder, “Oh no you don’t-.” He spun him around, “You gotta
tell me when this happens, so I can help you, Sammy!”
Sam shook his head, “No, Dean, the school hated you enough already knowing that
you physically attacked certain kids on my behalf.” He tugged his shoulder
away. Dean bit his lip in thought, “Well, Dad’s not here, so what am I supposed
to do, huh Sam? Sit on my ass while you get the shit kicked out of you?”
“No Dean I-,” Sam stopped, noticing the way his brother was looking at it,
“Just leave it alone, okay? I’ll deal with it myself.” He said, not actually
sure of what he was going to do. Dean crossed his arms, “Take your jacket off
and show me…”
Sam furrowed his brows and shook his head, “What? No way, Dean. I’m fine.” He
hugged himself and tried to walk away again, but Dean just followed, not laying
a hand on him.
“Sam, I’m just trying to help.” Sam entered his room and shut the door in
Dean’s face. Dean sighed and knocked on the door, “Hey, you can’t be pissed at
me for caring, Sam.” Sam didn’t answer, “Sam, please just let me see.” When he
got no answer again, he just opened the door. There weren’t any locks on the
doors inside the house except for in the bathroom. Also, of course the front
and back doors.
He walked in to find Sam with his jacket off and shirt lifted as he looked in
his full body mirror. Whatever happened to Sam, they must have had it really
out for him, for some fucking reason. The tall kid was scrawny, but wasn’t all
bone, he ate well and was on the track team, but he was still thin. He had an
attractive body too. He was about 6’1’’, as tall as Dean, and had everything in
all the right places. Dean was always lucky to ever see his bare skin
considering Sam was so self-conscience.
But this, wound, it wasn’t just a bruise, it looked like somebody had shanked
him with something small. It was purple, black, and yellow around the wound, it
was badly bruised. Dean gasped lightly that had Sam shooting a look behind him
and dropping his shirt.
“Dean! Get out!” Sam ordered, shooing him away by walking over to Dean and
pushing him, “Please, let me be alone!” Dean didn’t say anything at first. He
was in awe at how much that would didn’t seem to slow Sam. Sure it probably
hurt like a bitch, but he kept on keepin’ on.
Dean then grabbed both of Sam’s wrists, “Sam, I swear to god, let me fucking
look at it, it’s bad and could get infected. I’m serious.” Dean wasn’t having
anymore of Sam’s stubbornness and wasn’t going to stop bothering him until he
got to fix Sam up.
Sam was stiff as Dean spoke. Dean was his older brother, sure they were the
same height and were both strong, but Dean was still menacing and easily had
the authority. Dean pushed Sam forward slightly then, “Sit on the bed and take
your shirt off.” Sam hesitated by shaking his head, but Dean interrupted,
“Shirt. Off.” Sam sighed and pulled his shirt off over his head before sitting
on the bed.
Dean left momentarily, probably to go get a first aid kit, so Sam waited. Dean
did in fact return with a kit and brought a beer with him as well. Sam rolled
his eyes as Dean popped open the beer, but instead of taking a sip, he handed
it to Sam and he grabbed it gladly and began taking small sips.
“Pussy...” Dean smiled to himself as Sam glared, “Hey, c’mon Dean don’t be a
dick.” Dean just chuckled before bringing a wipe with rubbing alcohol up to his
wound, which had slowly started to scab over, but still needed a good cleaning.
Sam hissed, using his hand to grab Dean’s forearm for comfort. He set his beer
down on his bedside table, afraid he may spill it. Once Dean finished cleaning
it, he took a long look at the cut, figuring it was probably deep as it started
to blood again.
“You’re gonna need stitches.” He got a needle and thread out of the box and
threaded them together, “Dean, no c’mon, it’s not that bad!” Sam insisted,
placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean relaxed his arms and gave Sam a loving
look, “Sam, I’ve been around longer than you have, you need stitches.” Sam
sighed, he had always hated stitches, needles in fact. The life of a hunter
though, that involved lots of sharp objects, so he had started to get used to
it long ago.
Without warning, Dean pressed the needle into Sam’s skin and he whined. Dean
glanced up at him, still focused. Sam needed to think about something else, he
looked around the room for a moment, before his eyes landed back on Dean. Dean,
his brother, his gorgeous big brother. His eyes were always the first thing he
thought about every morning, seeing those green eyes staring back at him when
they talked at the breakfast table in the morning. His lips, fuck, he couldn’t
get enough of the sight of them, he wanted to feel them on his own, and he
always had. He just wished that day would come, but maybe it never would. His
freckles. He had no idea how many times he had tried counting all of them
whenever he could get away with staring at him for so long. The thing that
really turned him on were his biceps, how they buldged through his T-shirts and
how they would flex easily whenever he would do almost anything, fuck-
“Sam? Hello? Sam?” Sam snapped out of it and blinked rapidly, “Yeah, yes?
Yeah?” He stuttered, clearing his throat, “Fixed you up real nice, you’re safe
to wear 1,000 layers again.” He sighed, closing the box and standing up.
Dean began to walk away before Sam took hold of his arm. Dean turned back and
gave Sam a confused look. At first, Sam said nothing, but then tried to speak,
“I-I wanted to ask-.” Sam stopped mid-sentence, letting go of Dean’s arm,
“Never mind.”
Dean turned to Sam and sat next to him on the bed, “What’s up?” He asked, brows
furrowed in concern. Sam shook his head before picking up his shirt and pulling
it over his head. He then laid his head on his brother’s shoulder, “I’m fucking
tired.” He mumbled, closing his eyes gently, comforted by his brother’s body
heat. Dean shifted, “Tired? Tired of what?” Dean asked, genuinely concerned.
Sam almost never swore, so this must have been bothering him, whatever it was.
“Tired of waiting, sitting here and doing nothing…” He spoke softly, looking up
at Dean from his shoulder. Dean gazed at Sam, biting his lip for a moment,
trying to think what might be the matter before Sam spoke again, lifting his
head up, “Dean, please stop…” Dean jerked his head away, totally unaware of
what was going on, “What? What am I doing?” He looked down at himself and his
hands.
Sam couldn’t help but smile lightly, “I just, I miss you, I miss us, hell,
maybe dad too…” he admitted, reaching for one of Dean’s hands, taking it out of
the air where he held it.
“Sam, don’t do this, just tell me strait, you always do this.” He almost
begged, insanely worried. The situation was no emergency, but Dean just cared
so much, maybe even too much.
“Is it me working overtime some nights to pay for the house? Going out some
nights for a drink?” Dean wondered out loud, still looking at Sam. The teen
sighed, “Maybe it’s that, yeah.” He paused, “Also, maybe it’s that sometimes
you’re gone certain nights too, or when you bring girls home from wherever.” He
huffed, “Maybe-maybe it’s that Dean.” His face was flushed and his eyes were
watering.
Dean wrapped an arm around his brother as he became silent, “Sam, I just- I
just thought you were fine alone. You never told me this and it’s been two
years man, has it always been like this?” He asked, gaze now on the carpeted
floor. Sam sniffled, nodding, “Yeah, yeah it has, Dean.” He pulled away from
Dean’s embrace then.
“Y’know, my whole life, I’ve been with you and dad on the road, mostly it just
being you and I, but….I never really-.” He paused, “Saw you…but maybe it was
you that didn’t see me?” a tear rolled down his face, but he quickly wiped it
away. His features were filled with sadness and Dean felt broken then.
“Fuck, Sammy…” He rested his elbows on his thighs and put his face in his
hands, “Fuck…” He rested there for a moment before looking back up, “I had no
idea-tha-,” Dean was cut off again by a small sob, “Of course you had no idea,
Dean! You did nothing for me!” Dean was shocked at how emotional Sam was, but
he couldn’t blame him. He was a shit brother.
“Sam, Sam-please let me ask you this,” He paused to swallow a lump in his
throat, “Why now? Why are you telling me this now?” Sam then lifted his head
and at first stared past Dean through the pen door and at the cereal that still
lay on the floor, milk soaked into the carpet. He whimpered momentarily before
looking back at Dean.
“Because I’m so fucking tired of loving you…” He breathed, trying to catch his
breath from his sobs, “I’m so tired of seeing you walk around, leave me, come
home and light up my day before you’re gone again.” He huffed, “I’m in love
with you and I want you, I want you to love me too.” He ranted.
Dean was wide eyed, any normal brother would have thought this was weird and
wrong for his own brother to feel this way about him, but he didn’t feel that
way. He loved Sam too, he figured it out when he was fifteen, that there was
always something, something really odd that he couldn’t quite figure out. Once
he finally figured it out it was like finally seeing the sun after a life full
of night. Fuck the stares, he wanted the light of day.
Dean then began to laugh, almost hysterically. Sam looked at him in shock. What
the fuck? Why was he laughing at this? What a prick! Did he think this was a
joke? This wasn’t a fucking joke….but Dean then came through.
“Sam, I’ve always loved the fuck out of you.” He held out his arm for an
embrace, hoping Sam would come nestle into his side, and he did, a look of
wonder on his face, “What?” He asked, eyes bloodshot. The younger Winchester
then wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist and hugged him tightly, face
against his shoulder.
“Do you wanna know what I’ve been doing, ever since you turned 15?” Sam only
looked up slightly, one eye open to look at Dean to tell him he was interested,
“I’ve watched you grow kid, and damn did you grow well. When that ass of yours
filled out, mmh I could not get enough.” Sam then raised a visible brow,
intensely interested, “And when you started gettin’ muscular and started
growin’ meat on those bones, damn I loved watching you walk out of the bathroom
with just a towel on.”
Dean sighed then, reminiscing in the images of his brother. Sam then called his
brother’s name quietly to catch Dean’s attention, “Why-Why didn’t you do
something? Do something? Jesus, Dean…” Sam pulled back from the embrace and
licked his dry lips.
“If that’s how you were feeling then, imagine how hard it was for me...” He
looked over at Dean, a small smile on his face, “I’ve had a lot more time to
watch you than you’ve had to watch me.” His face heated up as he admitted these
things, “I’ve always been jealous of you, your body was always so nice…hot in
fact. I wanted all of that, and not just to look that way…I mean I really
wanted to touch it too.” His face was quickly turning red, he felt insanely
embarrassed.
Dean then took Sam’s hand in his and placed it on his chest, “You can touch it
now, Sam. You can touch as much as you want.” Dean had had a smile on his face
the whole time but it only ended up growing. Sam didn’t know what to do then
and was momentarily stiff and unsure until he gripped Dean’s T-shirt and let
his hand wander. This was something he had imagined doing for the longest time
and now he could do it. It was amazing.
Dean watched as his brother’s hand roamed his abdomen. He found it kind of
adorable at how in awe Sam seemed. He reached for Sam’s other hand and placed
it on his thigh, “You’re almost eighteen, so you can call yourself lucky.” Sam
gulped, licking his lips once again. They had been drying out quickly. Sam
kneaded at his thigh which had Dean sucking in small breaths. He placed a hand
on the back of Sam’s neck, eager for more, but had to stop him, “Sam, not too
much…not yet.” He grabbed his brother’s hands once again to take them away from
his body. Sam pouted lightly as this happened.
“Dean?” Sam spoke, seeming hesitant, “C-can I at least kiss you?” Sam’s eyes
were filled with wonder and affection that look got Dean every time. Dean
leaned in closer to Sam’s face, glancing down at his lips, “Yeah, yeah you
can.” He answered, hot breath hitting Sam’s lips, making him shiver lightly.
Sam then parted his lips and leaned forward, pressing his lips against his
brother’s gently, and attempting to lock them together, but that would depend
on Dean as well. Dean happily kissed back, reaching to gently grab Sam’s bicep
to keep their lips together.
Dean then pulled away after a few moments, but Sam only whined and leaned
forward to capture his lips again which had Dean grinning into the kiss. Dean
hardened the kiss, which made Sam hum happily, though Dean placed a hand on his
chest and pulled away.
“Woah there, Tiger. Someone’s Greedy.” Dean teased, ruffling his brother’s
hair. Sam just made a sour face, annoyed.
“Well…” Sam’s was still hot and tinted red, “What now?”
“I guess we should probably think about that…”
***** When you're wrong *****
Chapter Summary
     Sam and Dean seem to be resuming life more or less the same.
     But having it be the same isn't excavate a good thing for either of
     them.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The day had gone by as normal after their confession, now all they could do was
wait and think on their own before confronting each other again.
Sam and his brother slept in their separate beds, even they longed to be
together that night. They both slept soundly.
Sam woke up at 6 am the nest day. It was a Friday and he was relieved. After a
quick shower, he entered the kitchen to find a tired Dean, in a T-shirt and
sweatpants that made his ass look great. The older Winchester looked over at
Sam with a smile, he had just finished cleaning dishes.
“Want me to cook sonethin’? Eggs?” Dean offered with a bright smile, happy to
see Sam looking decent.
“No, but thanks.” Sam answered, a small blush forming on his face. Dean nodded,
walking over to his brother to give him a big bear hug, “Sleep okay?” He asked
as he pulled away. Dean mostly asked because Sam had pretty bad insomnia and
melatonin just didn’t seem to work. Sam then nodded with a small smile, “Yeah,
actually. I did.”
Sam was off to school with a full stomach 15 minutes later. He lived close
enough to walk to school and it only took about ten minutes to just walk there.
The weather was surprisingly decent that day, but it would definitely rain
after school.
School was normal. Sam paid good attention during class, taking notes like a
mad man. Had his fair share of name calling. Today was one of his more
unfortunate days. He was confronted in the bathroom, shortly before school
ended.
He was clocked in the nose and the kids had hit his head against the porcelain
sink, almost knocking him unconscious. They left after laughing and calling him
a few more names. The usual names were-Faggot, bitch, gay, cocksucker, pussy,
cumslut, and asslicker. It was all very painful, but Sam took it with no
action, but that would soon change.
He washed his face in the bathroom. His forehead was already bruising and his
nose was too, bleeding profusely. He was thankful that his nose didn’t break
though.
The bell rang soon after and Sam was free to get out of the hell he resided in
five days a week. He covered his face by pulling his jacket up over his nose as
he exited the building quickly, getting home as fast as he could.
Dean wasn’t home when he got there, which made him upset, but rather than being
alone he figured he could just clean up and stop by the library. And that’s
what he did.
Sam was there until about eight o’clock, an hour before the place closed. The
Library was also in walking distance, which was another plus.
He walked up to the house to see that Dean’s car, a black impala, was there and
had him grinning as he unlocked the door.
“Dea-.” Sam was about to call his name, but quickly lost his grin and every
ounce of excitement.
The moans and whines coming from Dean’s room were loud, extremely loud. Dean
must have left the door cracked. Whoever she was, she was having a good time.
He could also hear Dean’s grunts and mumbling. Dirty talk, it must’ve been. Sam
wanted more than anything to go to his room or the bathroom, but they were both
so close to Dean’s room that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The noises soon quieted and Sam lifted his head up from where it lay on the arm
of the couch, a sweaty and shirtless Dean following the tired looking blonde
who was heading towards the door.
They both looked at Sam in shock then and the girl quickly left without saying
goodbye.
Once the door shut Dean ran a hand through his hair, guilty as hell for letting
Sam see this. He began to walk over to Sam to sit next to him, but he was
stopped.
“No…” Sam’s voice was filled with anger, “I don’t wanna look at you. I don’t
want you here right now.”
“Sam I-.” Dean tried to speak, but was stopped again, “No! I don’t wanna see
you!” He quickly turned his face away and Dean could hear soft sobs coming from
the kid that soon had him shaking.
“Sam, please, please let me talk.” Dean tried once again. When Sam didn’t
answer, he walked over to the couch to sit next to him, but Sam didn’t answer.
When Sam ended up lifting his face, Dean’s eyes widened.
“Shit, Sammy-.” Dean reached for his face, but Sam slapped his hand away,
“You’re the only thing that kept me going today Dean, you’re all that keeps me
going…and now-now…” Sam wanted nothing, but to hug his brother, but he
couldn’t. He was mad and broken.
Dean reached forward again to place a hand on Sam’s head, “I’m sorry…” Dean
tried to say, making Sam look at him. Sam soon spoke up again, “Sorry? You’re
not fucking sorry! Bullshit, Dean!”
Sam then ran to his room and closed the door behind him, sobbing uncontrollably
on the other side. He didn’t even make it to his bed. He just sat against the
door. Dean followed him, quickly grabbing a shirt from his room on the way
before he knocked on the door.
“Sam, you know I’m gonna open the door eventually…” He spoke from the other
side, one hand against the door. Sam furrowed his brows then.
“Why don’t you give me privacy? I give you privacy when you fuck those whores
every night!” Sam stood up from the floor to dash to his bed.
Dean widened his eyes before turning the knob and pushing the door open, “Sam,
I am sincerely begging you to look at me and talk to me. Please Sam, I don’t
deserve it, but I’m asking.” Sam looked up from his bedsheets, intent on saying
no, but he just couldn’t, he loved Dean and needed to see his face and hear his
voice.
“What?” Sam asked flatly, “What do you have to say to me?” Dean went and sat on
the edge of the bed.
“I have to say that…I get lonely too. I feel like I need something more…more
than just work, more than just drinking…”Sam interrupted, “More than just me?”
Dean shook his head, almost violently.
“San, no, god no. There’s just certain things that I feel I need when…I just
guess I don’t need them.” He patted the space between them, hoping Sam would
move closer, “I hadn’t figured out that I didn’t need that until now, Sam.” He
sighed, expression full of guilt.
Sam was hesitant to move towards him, but quickly wrapped his arms around him,
crying into his shirt, “You almost fucking broke me…and maybe you did because
right now I hurt so bad. I hurt so fucking bad Dean.” His voice was muffled and
cracking, “I told you I loved you and you said the same. So what does coming
home to this mean?” Dean kissed the top of Sam’s head, knowing that there was
nothing he could say to make up for what he did.
“It means I’m selfish….I didn’t change my bad habits on your behalf and-
I fucked up.” He pulled Sam closer, “And I don’t deserve anything from you now.
Nothing…” He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart aching, “So if you think I’m
disgusting, a liar-or whatever the hell I am, I understand.”
Sam looked up, face stained with tears, “No, Dean, why would I think that?” His
face was filled with confusion, “I love you.” He said simply, “Sure you’re a
fucking asshole, and I’m furious and feel like shit.” He paused, taking a
breath, “I fucking love you, Dean.” He sniffled a few more times.
Dean’s eyes had started watering by then, but he blinked the tears away, “I
love you too, Sam.” He pressed his forehead against his younger brother’s, “And
I think-I think we need to get you cleaned up and comfortable.” He brushed his
lips against the other’s, “Because you look like hell.”
Sam pushed his lips slightly forwards so that they could actually kiss. He
pulled away with the tiniest smile on his face,
“Again, an asshole.”
Chapter End Notes
     Well, I know what you're probably waiting for...and it's coming. The
     boys just need a tad more time ;)
***** When People Are Strange *****
Chapter Summary
     Sam and Dean have made up
     But the outside world hasn't changed
Chapter Notes
     There is non-con in this chapter, which I know is triggering to many
     I believe that this chapter may be skip worthy
     but I have just begun writing the next so no promises
See the end of the chapter for more notes

It had been about a week since the ordeal between the brothers had been patched
up. In fact, everything seemed to be getting better. The brother’s became
closer and closer. Maybe even a kiss here and there.

The day began with Sam’s usual wakeup routine. Shower, teeth brushing, clothes,
and then breakfast. But when Sam entered the kitchen and found it empty, his
joyful expression fell.

Dean lay in his bed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. His forearm rested
on his forehead. He sighed, deep in thought about his surroundings and daily
life. Even about his brother.

Though he quickly sprang up when he heard a drawer open in the kitchen. He
needed more than anything to see Sam.

When Dean entered, Sam looked up from his cereal bowl and grinned at his
brother, “I was wondering where you were.” He commented, sipping the milk out
of his empty bowl.
“Just havin’ a good think I guess.” Dean sat across from Sam and sat his elbows
up on the table, resting his chin down on the knuckles of his hand, “We should
do something this weekend. Whatever you want, Sammy.” He smiled, "I mean...it
is your birthday."

“Huh? Really?” Sam set his bowl to the side and raised his brows,” Well, you
know I don’t really like to do much, except for school work.” He told Dean
shrugging. Dean rolled his eyes, “Well, just choose something else you want to
do…and we’ll do it.” He tilted his head, eager for an idea.

Sam’s face heated as he spoke, “I just wanna be with you, I don’t care what we
do Dean. I mean it.” He admitted, doe eyes full of care. Dean got up from his
seat and picked up Sam’s bowl from him to put it in the sink. Sam would have
protested, but the look his brother had him caught in a web.

“If that’s what you want. Do you wanna stay home? Watch a movie?” Dean offered,
turning around and leaning on the counter. Sam looked over at him and nodded.
“I just wanna stay home, we can do anything. I miss you, Dean.” He said shyly,
sliding out of his seat to pick up his backpack.

“Time already?” Dean asked, unsure. He looked at his watch and frowned, about
to speak, “We-.” Before he could make a sentence, Sam’s lips were on his. Their
lips were locked in a tender kiss. When Sam pulled away, Dean gave him a
surprised, but satisfied look.

“Takin’ initiative, Sammy. Good work.” He teased before speaking again, “Now
get to school, kid.” Dean’s smile lit up the room and Sam could have melted
right then and there.
Sam nodded and turned the front door’s handle and glanced back momentarily, “I
love you.” He half-called back to his brother as he began to exit.

“I love you too, Sam.” Dean replied, giving him the tiniest of waves goodbye.

---

Now would be the time where we would be talking about Sam’s day at school, but
the boy never made it. He was stopped by few college males next to a mini mart.
Sam tried to pass them by, but it was three against one.

His bag was tugged off of him and he was thrown to the ground. It was still
rather dark out and no one was around, which made it all the scarier.
“Fuckin’ faggot.” One of the scoffed, glaring down at Sam as he tried to get
up. He was immediately kicked back down and was straddled from behind.
“Would the fag like another big boy to fuck him?” He growled, leaning down as
he spoke into Sam’s ear.

Sam whimpered and finally spoke.

“Fuck off!” He tried wriggling underneath the other man, but he was cemented
down. He wanted his brother. He squeezed his eyes shut, causing a tear to slip
out.
“Oh, we could put that mouth to better use than that.” The other kids laughed,
eyes on the two.

The male on top of him kneading at Sam’s ass before tugging down on his jeans,
revealing his boxers.
“No, No! Stop, please!” Sam begged, squirming. He began thrashing and that gave
the other a reason to slam his head down against the wet pavement, which had
him dizzy. It hurt, more than a little.

His boxers were then slowly being slid down, his bare ass now visible. Sam felt
so naked, so scared. He was terrified, he couldn’t get away, and he was too
weak.
He heard the other male’s belt buckle being undone, the metal sliding together.
He was about to be raped. Sam was going to get raped. He let his body go limp
as he let his tears fall silently.

“Damn, that ass is nicer than I thought it would be. Don’t you think?” He
looked back at his friends and they nodded in agreement, smirking.

When Sam was least expecting it, he was penetrated and let out a yell before
his mouth was soon covered by a moist hand.

It hurt. They all hurt. They took turns. Over and over again they used him like
a rag doll. By the end of things, he was covered back up and left as it started
to rain.
Sam made no move to get up, he could have died then and there and he would be
fine.

But then he thought of Dean, that beautiful man. His brother. The light of his
cold life.
That’s when Sam got up and went home, he was done trying to attend school when
he was in such a terrible state.

It was noon by then….and he had just hoped Dean was home.

---

Dean had only attended work for a few hours that day and he had just gotten
home by the time Sam did.

When he unlocked the door and found Sam sitting on the couch, he furrowed his
brows.

“Sam? What’re you doin’ home?”

Dean couldn’t think of any reason as to why Sam would leave school early, so
this must have been important. When Sam didn’t answer, Dean walked over to sit
next to his brother. All Sam was doing was staring blankly.

“Sam? Sam!?”

Dean waved a hand in front of his brother’s face before cupping it in his
hands.

“Sammy talk to me.”
Dean practically begged. When Sam’s eyes finally shifted, Dean followed his
gaze.

Sam finally parted his lips to speak.

“I-I-…I didn’t actually make it to school. At all, actually.”

He voice cracked.
Dean furrowed his brows. He couldn’t have been more worried. He had never seen
Sam like this.

“Well, what kept you from going?”

Sam sucked in a quick breath, forcing his face into Dean’s warm chest. It took
him a while to answer, but Dean waited.

“There-there were these college kids-guys. They stopped me in front of the
corner store and wouldn’t let me go…they beat me down and-and I couldn’t get
back up. I-I couldn’t move…”

Tears began to well up in his eyes and Dean held him snuggly, eyes growing
wider. Dean was silent, which gave Sam room to speak again.

“They held me down…I tried to yell for help, but I-I couldn’t.”

He paused, breath quickening.

“And they took turns…they just kept going and going. All I did was lay there
and-,”

He then burst into tears. Talking about it only brought back part of the pain.
His bruises ached and his body shook in Dean’s arms.

Dean was still silent. He was in complete shock and it was slowly turning into
fury. He rested his head on top of Sam’s, kissing it softly as the other
sobbed. He rubbed his back gently, mind racing.

He was going to kill those motherfuckers. He was going to gut them.
Chapter End Notes
     The next chapter is gonna be filled with goodies!
End Notes
     I am hoping to make another chapter, but that a;; depends on the
     Kudos and comments?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
ands gripped his seat tightly, and
he rocked forward, holding his breath until his lungs burned, lip caught
between fretful teeth.
The cap of his dragon’s egg went flying, flipped free by a white tail. The egg
canted sideways and crumbled slightly before bursting open. The little dragon
shook itself off, took a few unsteady steps and flexed its wings. The
graduating class of Rangers held very still as it blinked at them, then gave a
little screech and turned around. It screeched again, hurrying in one direction
and bowling over entirely - bits of dried plants and gravel sticking to its wet
skin. It gave a distressed shriek, and Chuck couldn’t hold still any longer.
Knowing he’d be in deep trouble, he launched himself down the bleachers and ran
as fast as he could to the nest.
His little dragon was flailing about miserably, and he climbed in after it,
sliding down the side of the nest and picking it up. He picked the bits of
debris that clung to its damp skin off, clutching it close to his chest. It
made a noise at him, teeth on display as it craned its head back. Its head
tilted and it blinked large gold eyes at him before inhaling deeply. It sniffed
him twice, pressed its brow to his temple and proceeded to make a happy
rumbling sound that Chuck was more familiar with hearing out of cats. It
relaxed in his arms, gave a wide yawn and promptly dropped into deep sleep.
Chuck climbed the nest one handed to odd looks from a few of the Rangers, and
hopped down. He nodded at Stacker, whose mustache twitched slightly in lieu of
a smile. Tamsin smiled at him however and gave him a thumbs up as he trotted
off to go introduce the newest member of their family to Lucky.
Young dragons, like most young creatures, were completely dependent upon their
caregivers in their first year of life. And Chuck’s young dragon was no
different. He wasn’t able to name it, because it was too young to explain its
true name or to be properly sexed. But, it didn’t deter him in the slightest.
Lucky was very happy that dragoning had become a family affair, though she had
hoped for Chuck to take over in his father’s place when the time came. As
dragons outlived their chosen partners, and when bonded so deeply, often kept
company within the circle of their families for generations. But she wasn’t
overly distressed, and if anything, was possibly a little smug that she and the
dragonling kept frequent company and would for the rest of their long lives.
As Chuck’s father, uncle, and Lucky were on active duty, they traveled the
world with Chuck, Max and the dragonling in tow. And were quite the sight
wherever they went. They were a curiosity and quickly became well known even by
those not in the life, as young dragons were not a sight often afforded the
public.
Chuck’s dragonling at first, was hardly any larger than Max, and they would
chase each other around, pouncing and running and quickly tiring themselves
out. They were often found asleep in a heap of fur and scales somewhere
underfoot. If Chuck tried to move them, they would wake and make unhappy
noises, as he had to separate them and carry them one at a time to do so. So he
took to sitting beside them whenever they had heaped themselves somewhere in
the way, to better mark their place.
As he was talking again, he found he rather enjoyed the topic of them, and
would go on and on for hours with anyone who would listen. As time went by,
however, the dragonling grew steadily larger and soon dwarfed Max in size. Its
colors began to become more distinctive, and Chuck spent a lot of time grooming
and stroking it to their mutual satisfaction. When it was about six months old,
it began speaking. At first in short, disjointed sentences, that rapidly found
fluency. By seven months old, his dragonling could speak seven different
languages, absorbing them all from the crew and populace around them at various
Shatterdomes like a thirsty sponge. And because it only spoke to Chuck and
Lucky, Chuck began to find himself rather fluent as well. His schoolwork became
increasingly easy, to the surprise of everyone involved, save Lucky who
explained to her Rangers that when a dragon bonded from the shell, it shared
everything it was with the individuals with whom it bonded. And as the
dragonling was of exceptional intelligence and curiosity and Chuck of an
accelerated maturity and engaging wit, they openly fed off of one another’s
enthusiasm and collective talents.
By twelve, Chuck could be found with the J-crew, learning every turn and weld
necessary to both make and maintain dragon armor. And was capable of carrying
on several conversations in multiple languages all at once, without losing a
step of the process. His dragonling at his side, watching the process either
with an intensity that had a tendency to startle newer staff, or with such
indifference as to make no matter. By the time his dragonling was a year old,
it could be found climbing the sides of posts, walls, buildings and anything
vaguely upright and launching itself off them. It would glide around, before
coasting to a landing, which at first it wasn’t very good at. Lucky’s crew
learned to quickly dart out of the way when it came in for a landing, and the
reflex to move out of the way kept long after it had gained steadiness. Which
proved only to amuse it and it took to using them as target practice, tail
swishing to tap them as it went by until Lucky scolded it.
By thirteen, and two, Chuck’s dragonling outstripped him and was large enough
to ride, though not with any guarantee of safety and not for very long. Still,
they amused themselves with following Lucky and the elder Hansens around on
sweeps to stretch their wings and do something together. It was upon one such
return that they entered the Shatterdome to find a beautiful, streamlined blue
dragon. She was all grace and majesty and Chuck was instantly awed by her. He’d
never seen a thunder dragon before, and was keen to catch sight of her
electrical abilities, but she seemed composed and serene. Clearly adored by her
Rangers, who were nowhere in sight as Chuck and his dragonling closed the
distance to go introduce themselves.
“Hi!” Chuck called, waving. “I’m Chuck Hansen and this is my dragon. Welcome to
Manila!”
Gipsy Danger turned to look at them at being addressed and lowered her angled
head by means of a long, slender neck. She inhaled deeply against Chuck’s chest
and blinked at him in surprise.
You are the little one who was found in the fissure.
“That’s me!” Chuck replied, rocking back on his heels with a grin. He didn’t
give two cares what humans thought of him. But every time a dragon recognized
(and chose to speak with) him it brought a warmth to his chest. Most dragons
had stopped speaking to him directly after he’d turned thirteen. Puberty
setting in altering something in their perception of him. Most, if any, who
spoke to him did so by the same means they had all agreed to when becoming
active Jaegers. Through his dragon. His bond with his dragonling was so strong
that Chuck rarely noticed whether a dragon was speaking to him directly or
through it, but every so often, the directness of being spoken to mind to mind
abruptly informed him of the courtesy he was being awarded, and filled him with
a distinctive joy.
Is this the egg? she queried, snout turning on his dragonling.
I am, it responded, chest puffing slightly as it drew itself up into a more
respectable position of strength and standing.
How fortunate you were, she commented.
How fortunate I am, it corrected.
She lifted her head in what Chuck had learned was dragon amusement and regarded
them. Yes, she agreed. That I can see quite clearly.
“Gipsy!”
Her head rose, neck craning to better accommodate her in the space. Yancy!
Raleigh! She was - as most dragons were - most excited to have her Rangers in
view, and eager to have them near her once more. This is the little one from
the fissure, she informed them.
“Ah, engaging in a little hero worship, huh?” joked the older Ranger.
The younger shook his head in mock disapproval. “Gipsy, you’re going to ruin
our reputation.”
Her wings ruffled and folded in, but she didn’t seem offended.
“Yancy Becket,” said the older Ranger, holding his hand out.
“Chuck Hansen,” he replied, shaking.
Yancy whistled. “Quite the reputation you have, kid.”
“Hi, I’m Raleigh,” the younger interrupted, taking Chuck’s hand and shaking it.
“Don’t mind Yancy, he gets a little star struck.”
Boys, commented Gipsy. Chuck gathered from her tone this was a situation that
happened often enough to warrant a distinctive one.
“Everyone’s heard about you,” Raleigh explained. “The dragons won’t shut up
about you.”
As well they should, his dragonling commented to no one in particular.
Chuck could feel the flush rising and prayed to any higher power it wouldn’t
make it to his cheeks.
“That was a brave thing you did,” Yancy added.
“It wasn’t really,” he replied, uneasy. “I just did what I was told.”
“I wasn’t talking about the fissure,” Yancy said, leaning in and winking at
him.
Chuck went scarlet.
Raleigh laughed.
Gipsy sighed, her sides heaving slightly and the gentle wind of her exhalation
washing over them from above.
They all looked up as Lucky towered into view. She lowered her head, and Chuck
scrambled on, desperate to escape.
“Nice to meet you!” Raleigh called, flagging an arm as Lucky made her apologies
to Gipsy and took Chuck off to dinner.
“We’ll see you around,” Yancy added, hands in his pockets.
Chuck’s dragonling bounded off joyously in Lucky’s wake.
“Wait a minute…” he could hear Raleigh say. “Gipsy...Were you actually talking
to him?!”
It was only appropriate, she replied.
But Chuck could only hear her through his dragonling, who was out of range and
disinclined to follow the conversation any further. So he didn’t know why she
thought so.
I think I’ve decided, his dragonling informed him that night, as they were all
tucked in for bed. Chuck always had a bunk wherever they went, but he’d always
been most comfortable with the dragons, and while he did find some uses for his
room on occasion, his habit was to sleep with Lucky and his dragonling, and no
one could sway him otherwise.
“Decided what?” he asked, curious.
Start addressing me with male pronouns please.
“You can choose?!” Chuck replied, sitting up to stare at him.
Of course we can, he replied, wings flexing and folding into a more comfortable
position. We can be whatever sex we like until we breed. Then we’re stuck. He
didn’t sound terribly disturbed by the prospect however.
“Oh.” He licked his lip and tried not to miss his mother in that moment,
failing miserably.
His dragonling curled about him, rumbling low soothingly and added, I should
know my name in a few months. I expect a good code name.
He’d meant to distract him, which Chuck was aware of, and yet, it worked. His
mind was instantly running through a list of good matches he thought he should
probably write down, to sort through when he was told.
“Congratulations!” Raleigh Becket hailed him with, strolling over. “I hear he’s
chosen.”
Chuck looked sideways at his dragonling, who puffed up in pride. “Thanks,” he
replied awkwardly.
“Did he tell you why?”
“Did Gipsy tell you why?” he countered.
Raleigh actually considered it, and shrugged. “She said it was practical.” He
laughed, as if it was some great joke.
“He said it was only appropriate.”
Raleigh raised a brow and looked to Chuck’s newly gendered dragonling. “Well,”
he said after a moment. “Want to shoot some hoops?”
Chuck found he enjoyed the Beckets company. They were easy to get along with,
and a lot of fun besides. They weren’t all that much older than him. Enough
that they were legal and he was...only a few months a teenager, but in ten
years that sort of age difference didn’t matter, and he didn’t think it should
when dragons were involved anyway.
By the time the Beckets were deployed elsewhere Chuck was aware he had a bit of
a crush. Which made the farewell a little awkward, but still amicable, given
their combined personalities. Still, he found himself thinking of them often
enough that his dragonling and Lucky noticed. Lucky was old enough to have
tact, but his dragonling sauntered right up to him one day and said plainly,
You shouldn’t worry so, Chuck. You’ll get the chance to mate with them soon
enough.
His father choked on his breakfast and uncle Scott quickly spit his coffee back
into his cup so he could laugh without choking himself. Mortified, Chuck hadn’t
responded.
Lucky spoke to him about the incident, and he found Chuck later to apologize
for embarrassing him. Chuck only barely lucked out when it came to the human
side of the family. Herc had stammered through a sex talk that left them both
ruffled enough to need to take stress relieving flights. Uncle Scott had handed
Chuck a condom and a banana and told him to practice until he could do it two
fingered in the dark. And informed him that once he could, he’d buy him a pack
of his own.
Determined, Chuck still hadn’t quite managed it until he was fourteen. Which,
it later turned out, was the entire point. But, Uncle Scott kept his word and
Chuck found a box of condoms in his bag a few hours after working up the nerve
to tell him so.
Chuck’s dragonling turned three and was finally a fully mature dragon. He was
still young enough that he’d continue growing steadily, but he’d learned his
name, in the secret, magical way of dragons and had informed Chuck of it.
They’d turned up to register his codename the next day.
Striker Eureka was a beautiful dragon. With a deep chest that was a raging
inferno kept in check by a combination of physiology and will. The older he got
and the more they practiced, the more controlled his firebreathing became.
Chuck was well aware it made people nervous to have such a large, powerful
dragon bonded to someone as young as he was, but he was determined to prove
them all wrong. They both were.
They had every intention of going to the Academy, unprecedented as it was. The
simple fact remained, it was healthier and less stressful for a dragon to have
a bonded pair of Rangers. Battling Kaiju took a lot of precision and care to
attention and two Rangers could maneuver a dragon’s blind spots more easily
than one, which was also twice as effective as a dragon alone. The paired
Rangers would be trained in all forms of combat and weapons management
together, and share the duty of caring for all their dragon’s needs.
Every dragon had a crew, of course, as the work and expense of keeping a dragon
was astronomical. But, when it came down to it, the most important needs of a
dragon could only be met by a highly select few. And so that duty fell solely
upon its Rangers.
Striker, now an adult, was being tended to by Lucky’s crew, which had grown
with them and could easily handle two dragons as well, if not better, than most
crews could handle one. Yet, as he got older, Chuck could feel the beginnings
of strain at the edge of his consciousness. Striker loved him deeply and there
wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for Chuck and vice versa, but there were reasons
dragons needed more than a single connection. The pull of their consciousness
could be overwhelming, and as they got older, bordering on full maturation,
Chuck began to get splitting headaches. Striker would coo at him and curl up
about him and not let anyone near until he felt better. When Lucky was in, she
would curl up with them, to better protect him. Eventually, unconventional or
not, they made the trip to Academy.
Chuck found - much to his displeasure - they were something of a legend there.
Years of graduating classes speaking of the kid who’d been all but handed a
dragon. The kid with the dragon. The kid raised with dragons. The only cadet
with a dragon. And on and on it went. Chuck found the gossiping even more
trying than keeping Striker’s consciousness aligned. Striker of course, was
both no help at all, and all Chuck needed. He deliberately snubbed nearly the
entire class. The only exceptions being a petite asian girl, and a lanky blonde
with a too familiar smile. Mako Mori was the first, a legend in her own right
and someone who could understand Chuck’s predicament. She was the only survivor
of the attack on Tokyo by Onibaba and had been raised by Coyote Tango and her
Rangers Tamsin Sevier (now retired) and Stacker Pentecost - the Marshall of the
PPDC. If anyone had it worse than Chuck, it was Mako, and they became fast
friends over their shared circumstances. The other, as it turned out, was
Jazmine Becket. Younger sister of Yancy and Raleigh Becket, Gipsy Danger’s
Rangers.
Helpfully, while Jazmine resembled her brothers a great deal, her personality
was more of a combined effort toward roping in her temper and minding her
manners - a distinct departure from Yancy’s polite regard and Raleigh’s ability
to find humor in everything. She also helped him solidify another aspect of
himself - that he had no sexual attraction to girls. If anything, every time
Jazmine smiled, she called to mind Yancy or Raleigh. And Chuck’s mind
immediately drifted to pleasured thoughts of broad backs and angled jaws, and
other parts women did not have, even if he’d never seen them before, and had to
generalize his fantasies.
Striker didn’t seem at all surprised when Chuck revealed the startling
revelation to him. It wasn’t that Chuck had been raised to or even personally
saw it as wrong. If anything, being exposed to so many cultures, including the
unique world of Rangers, their crews and the populations of Shatterdomes, had
given him a certain overall acceptance of divergent lifestyles. And while he
felt right about his conclusion, there was still something that ached in his
gut when he thought that he’d never love a woman the way he would love a man.
It is because you feel unconsciously, that you will never have children whom
will have the relationship you miss so dearly, Lucky explained one evening.
The truth of it only made his chest burn and he rubbed at it despondently.
Striker nuzzled him gently in support.
And it is not so, Lucky continued, lowering her neck so she could likewise
nuzzle him. You know this. And you will come to know it better in time.
It is a shame you cannot change the way we can, Striker commented. You have not
mated yet, there would still be plenty of time.
Chuck snorted, half amused, half disturbed. “Nah, Striker. I’d like to keep all
my boy parts, thanks. If I don’t want to have sex with girls, why would I want
to be one?”
So you could have sex with boys, the younger dragon explained.
Chuck was glad that no one could hear the dragon half of the conversation. As
it was, he flushed darkly and scrubbed both hands over his face.
Chuck can have sex with males as he is, Lucky informed Striker.
Striker tilted his head and observed Chuck. In a display of youth he asked
innocently, Who will lay the egg? Dragons knew of course, from exposure to
humans and other creatures the difference between gestational abilities, but
dragon terminology was often their default standard and Rangers were as
accustomed to translating it as the dragons were to the reverse.
They will seek the assistance of a female to do as such, Lucky explained, wings
shifting. Or they may take in offspring not of their blood, whom require their
care and attention.
Orphaned? Striker asked sadly.
Mostly, she replied, clearly using the word’s more encompassing definition,
unwilling to explain to a dragon as young as Striker that humans were not the
pinnacle of dragon moral values. He’d bonded from the egg, and required a more
delicate handling than an unbonded young dragon.
You should do that, regardless, Striker informed him gravely. Are you old
enough to do it now? I would like for us to have a little one around.
He is too young for his species to do as such, Lucky informed him. And without
a partner besides. You wish him to undertake young when he is still young
himself, be kinder to him. She used Striker’s full name and his wings unfurled
in response. Dragons did not often address one another as so and it was an
indication of shared intimacy and familial ties.
Striker returned the kindness, adding, He is not too young to mate though. I
know this to be fact.
In form, no. In all the rest, only Chuck can say as such.
Chuck could feel their eyes on him. It was only slightly less embarrassing than
having the sex talk with his father. And mostly because he was the only one in
range who could hear their conversation.
I shall miss you when you are gone, Striker confided after a long silence. You
will take a mate and have young in your life, won’t you?
Chuck knew the importance of generational dedication to dragons. Lucky still
spoke to him directly, and not through Striker, although she ought to by
dragon’s own rules. But their’s was an unusual circumstance no matter which
species one chose to view it from and he was as much her’s as he was Striker’s.
As his father’s only child, and indeed the only child in the family, by
dragon’s own bonding rules, he was to take their places in Lucky’s life after
they died. As his children would after him. And due to the ties, his kids would
be likewise bound to two dragons, if not more should the war continue on that
long.
He sat up, startled. Both dragons started in response, but neither took a
defensive stance. Their reactions in concern for him.
“You want me to have kids so you won’t be alone, right?” he asked Striker.
And for your happiness and the extension of your lineage. You are a fine
example of all things I hold dear, and I would mourn greatly to see the world
lose such a genuine treasure, he responded.
“Are we your dragon hoards?” he asked suddenly.
Both dragons raised their necks, heads angling to align with the motion. Chuck
knew that to be a silent agreement. A signal of pride they exhibited whenever a
human figured out another of the secrets they shared so willingly.
He grinned brightly. “I’ve never been anyone’s treasure before.”
Nonsense, Lucky countered. You have always been a treasure. Long before you met
us.
And you will be a treasure long after you leave us, added Striker.
Both dragons suddenly ruffled, as if reminded of Chuck’s mortality and
clambered closer, curling about him in a pair of rings. Striker about Chuck and
Lucky about Striker, both of their heads resting in the space on either side of
him. He stroked their noses to calm them. He had no intention of not honoring
them to the best of his ability.
“But, your hoards, our families, does it have to start with one individual?”
I do not understand what you are asking, Striker replied.
Chuck swallowed down his excitement and turned to face him. “You would accept
my son and speak to him if I had one, right?”
Son or daughter, it makes no difference, but yes.
“The way Lucky does.”
Yes.
Lucky made a noise that in a human might be termed an Aha moment.
Her tail curled in near them and she stroked along Chuck’s back with it. The
tip was highly poisonous and it was a sign of her deep affection for him that
so dangerous a thing would never cause him the slightest harm.
“Could you bond with my dad then?”
Striker tilted his head, as if considering. Then answered, It would not do.
Hercules is Lucky’s.
I would share him with you, she responded. As you share Chuck with me.
It is your right to share Chuck, as by right he should be your’s. His legs
gathered under him, his bulk shifting in discomfort at the reminder.
It is so, she agreed. Yet this is not the first time, nor do I believe it shall
be the last that Dragons share the lineages of their dear ones. After all, when
Chuck is to mate, will you not also be sharing his children?
Striker made a noise of agreement, and Chuck wondered at their meaning. But
things were progressing, his idea taking root in Striker’s mind, and he didn’t
want to damage it by distracting him. Instead he added, “You already don’t like
anyone in my class.”
I enjoy the company of two of your classmates, he responded indignantly.
“But not enough to talk to them,” he countered.
Striker’s tail thrashed, as if it was an insult, but he didn’t respond. Max
barked and began chasing Striker’s tail around, and the dragon calmed
significantly, beginning to play with him by continuing the motion.
No, he agreed after a while of leading Max on a merry chase. Not as such.
“So with Lucky’s permission-” He nodded to her and she nodded back. “And
through the dragon loophole of direct lineage, him being my dad and all, do you
want to try?”
I do have a fondness for you progenitor, he admitted.
Chuck bounced up and held up both hands, his eagerness to see it done causing
excitement to thrum through him. “I’ll go get him! We can do it now, right?!”
Yes, Striker hedged and Lucky agreed.
They lifted their tails and necks and he darted naturally between them. He ran
as fast as he could, hoping that Striker wouldn’t change his mind in the
interim. It took a while to find him, and when he did, he was in LOCCENT with
the Marshall, Uncle Scott, and half a dozen other people.
“Dad!” he shouted, as the doors burst open. Everyone turned to look quickly, in
the sudden readiness of an amassed military branch.
His father’s brow furrowed in instant concern.
“Chuck, what are you doing here? You should be in bed.”
The Academy had strict rules about the conduct of its cadets which Chuck
regularly flouted. He only got away with it because of Striker. His dragon
needed him and they needed his dragon. Chuck could probably get away with
everything short of murder, and even then it was likely debatable.
Chuck grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was in range and tugged. “You need
to come! You need to come right now!”
Uncle Scott was out the door first, but only because no one had hindered his
movement. Chuck, his father, the Marshall, his partner Tamsin, and several
others they picked up along the way - surgeons and J-crew all in a flurry -
followed.
Lucky and Striker looked up at the commotion. Lucky quick to assure Scott, who
was standing before her full body atremble, that she was ‘Quite all right.’ and
that he ‘Needn’t worry so.’ She nuzzled him, and Chuck’s father, whom Chuck was
dragging by the arm, back between the dragons.
Uncle Scott climbed up Lucky’s side, walking along the ridge of her spines, and
sat between her shoulderblades to watch. The rest of the amassed group had to
wait on the other side of the dragons’ combined bulk, for risk of insulting
them and causing an incident.
“Tell him!” Chuck gasped, looking up at the pair of dragons looking down at
him. “Tell Dad what you said!”
Realizing that another dragon secret had been revealed, the Marshall snapped
off orders. Coyote Tango came lumbering over, happy to see her Rangers. She
couldn’t fly any longer - not for long distances at any rate - due to Onibaba’s
near severing of her left wing. But with Tamsin - who had also been injured and
bore wicked scars across the back of her head that she kept her hair short to
display proudly - and Stacker still useful to the PPDC and Stacker still in
service, she was kept at the Icebox, where she would be most comfortable.
Occasionally, Chuck would see Mako with her, and they would nod to one another
from opposite ends of the dragon pens.
Lucky informed Herc, mind to mind, relaying the exchange to him in rather more
detail than Chuck would have liked. Because she was communicating Dragon to
Ranger solely, the only ones who could hear her were her Rangers, and Chuck for
his blood ties. It was always odd to drift with them - the term given to
explain the complicated process of mind melding between a Dragon and their
Rangers. Lucky didn’t do it often, because it was so overwhelming, but whenever
she felt a family affair was to be kept among family, Chuck ended up included
by nature of their relationship. It always made him dizzy.
Uncle Scott let out a low whistle of astonishment. “Don’t suppose I count,” he
sighed.
No, Lucky replied, nuzzling him affectionately. Unfortunately for you, you are
all mine.
“I’ll endeavor to make peace with it,” he drawled, clasping the side of her
immense jaw and nuzzling back.
You could always have children of your own, she supplied.
“One of me is more than enough, sweetheart,” he teased, kissing her snout.
Chuck had sat against Striker’s side, Max curling up in his lap. He idly
stroked him as he came out from the ordeal more slowly than the experienced
members of their family. His father was looking at Striker, who gazed right
back at him.
“And you’re okay with this?” he asked finally.
Striker tilted his head as he observed him, then leaned in and nosed him. Herc
- used to such bowling affection - merely rocked with the motion.
If you are, Striker said, addressing him directly.
Herc blinked in surprise.
Outside the ring of dragon bodies, the group went very still.
Oh, said Coyote. I do suppose that’s best.
As Stacker and Tamsin pressed her for answers, Chuck’s father reached out and
stroked Striker over his muzzle affectionately. “Thank you,” he told him
gently.
Thank Lucky.
“Thank you, Lucky.”
You are most welcome, Herc.
Chuck had never heard her so pleased.
The news spread like wildfire and by the time Chuck walked into the Kwoon the
next morning, he’d already been nearly mobbed twice. One incident had been so
severe in crowd that Striker, who had been out for a lazy morning flight had
come tearing out of the sky with a roar. Cadets surged out of the way - dragons
always had the right of way - unintentionally leaving Chuck alone in the open
courtyard. Striker had slowed as he approached the ground, satisfied with the
reaction. He landed, flexing his wings and throwing his head back to release a
stream of white hot fire that left a thick cloud billowing overhead.
“I don’t think your dragon likes anyone,” Jazmine had commented from where
she’d been leaning against a pillar not too far from him.
Chuck had stroked Striker’s nose and murmured softly to him. “Dragons are just
protective,” he’d informed her, as if it were an uncommon fact.
“Perhaps no one should crowd you further,” Mako had suggested loudly.
Chuck had laughed.
“Oh great,” Jazmine groaned, raising a hand to rub at her temple. Her palm
nearly covered her face as she did so, and she turned slightly.
Chuck looked up and felt his heart skip a beat.
“Why did it have to be my brothers?” Jazmine moaned. “Why couldn’t it have been
the Gage twins?!”
“Because your brothers are highly skilled Rangers with the current highest kill
count. And their celebrity will keep cadets interested and involved,” Mako
answered diplomatically.
“Because your brothers are hot as fuck and I for one want to get pinned to the
mat and crushed by the both of them,” answered a cadet to their left.
Chuck admitted to himself he most definitely agreed. He wondered suddenly if
his pants were loose enough to keep from broadcasting the issue and wished he’d
had more warning to better prepare that morning.
Yancy Becket was the epitome of professional throughout the introduction of
guest instructors to the Academy. Raleigh smirked the entire time, eyes on his
sister as if taking great delight in ruining her day. She stared back at him
with varying levels of outright glower. They began by performing for the group,
to introduce a physical example of drift compatibility. The Becket Brothers
were notorious for the strength of their neural handshake and it showed in
every movement of their bodies as they circled and parried, working up enough
of a sweat to radiate heat as they began to move throughout the group doing
forms along the mats in neat rows. They corrected and guided, and while many
people deliberately messed up so they would notice them and move to correct
them, Chuck was among the group that stuck to uncompromising their abilities,
and let their performance do the speaking for them. Chuck had his pride after
all. That and the fact that he would quite literally die of embarrassment if
one of them touched him and he sprang wood right there in the Kwoon amid his
entire class.
After class, Jazmine approached her brothers to confront them over their
presence.
“We’re not doing it to deliberately antagonize you, baby girl,” Yancy soothed.
“We’re back in Alaska for the foreseeable future.”
“We didn’t even put in a request,” Raleigh continued, hands up in surrender.
“We received orders and we obeyed them,” Yancy added.
Jazmine snorted, unplacated.
“Alright, alright,” Raleigh drawled, wrapping an arm about her shoulders and
tucking her close despite her sudden outraged cry and shoving hands. “Will you
shut up about it if we let you come visit Gipsy?”
Jazmine stilled, and Chuck found it somewhat odd to be on the outside of
things. For once, uncomprehending the bonds between a dragon and their family.
To have visiting the dragon be a balm, a reward was inconceivable. Even when it
had just been Lucky and his egg, his father and Uncle Scott had never once not
allowed him to be in the dragon’s pen whenever he liked. As long as he wasn’t
underfoot, they’d allowed him to come and go as he pleased. He supposed
however, for someone in the position of Jazmine and her brothers, the situation
was different in innumerable ways. As Yancy and Raleigh Becket had graduated
Academy with the reward of a newly hatched dragon whom they then raised on
their own. Limited to what knowledge was issued by the PPDC and perhaps what
Gipsy herself had allowed. Which Chuck knew from experience was very little, as
young dragons tended to ask more questions than they gave answers.
“-can’t believe they actually attracted a dragon,” Jazmine was saying and Chuck
mentally shook himself free of his wandering. “But!” She slapped each on the
back, youngest to oldest and leaned in between them proudly. “They did! Gipsy
was so cute when she was a baby!” She made a gesture with her hands, indicating
the approximate size and shape of the lovely dragon’s younger form. “Like a
little cat!”
Raleigh rolled his eyes and Yancy sighed, but it was all good natured sibling
interaction. Something Chuck (and Mako) could only recognize from second hand
observation.
“How old was she when she first spat lightning?” he found himself asking.
The Ranger reaction of Dragon Pride was instantaneous. Their whole bodies
seemed to shift, their demeanours overtaken by their love for their dragon, and
the chance to speak of her.
“She was always something of a magnet,” Yancy said. “Even as a dragonling.”
“She used to shock the hell out of us!” Raleigh added, with a happy laugh. “At
first we thought if we removed everything that could cause static build up,
we’d be okay. We ripped up carpets and traded in the couch-”
“They made a mess,” Jazmine interrupted. “The house was in ruins for weeks. It
still is! All concrete and wood plank, like a barracks.”
“Got you prepared at least,” Raleigh countered, ruffling her hair in a way that
was apparently a tried and true means of annoying her.
“At any rate,” continued Yancy. “It didn’t help.”
“Not in the slightest,” laughed Raleigh.
“Laundry would stick to her, outlets would fry, once, she even managed to make
toast by playing too close to the toaster.”
“Which she then ruthlessly murdered after it scared the hell out of her when it
sprang free and she reacted with a full surge across her tiny scales.”
“In her first year?” Chuck asked, amazed.
They both thought about it, brows furrowing slightly. Yancy’s fingertips
drummed against his thumb in silent count as Raleigh’s hands made measurements
from memory.
“Yeah,” he finally said.
“Pretty sure,” Yancy agreed.
“Before six months?” asked Chuck, fascinated.
Raleigh bit his lip and Chuck was suddenly struck by how plump they were. He
tried to look at Yancy instead, but his mouth was curved in thought in a way
that just made Chuck want to grab him by the back of his head and kiss it. So
he looked at Jazmine and slowly regained control of himself. If nothing else,
her shoulderlength blonde hair was jarring enough to not be mistaken as
anything too similar to her brothers.
“I think so,” Raleigh replied, drawing out the word as he looked to his
brother.
Yancy nodded, and the movement made his adam’s apple sway hypnotically.
“Probably,” he agreed.
“Why? Was Striker breathing fire that young?” asked Raleigh, turning the
conversation around.
“Nah,” Chuck replied, shaking his head. The topic of Striker and his
development easing the tension in his body. “He didn’t really show much by way
of abilities until after he was two.”
They both raised their brows.
“That’s a bit late, isn’t it?” Yancy asked.
“Not for fire breathers, no.” He touched his throat and ran his hand down until
he stroked over his breastbone. “There’s a whole internal system that has to be
developed, and some required maturation hormone to jump start the ignition
process. Which Lucky says is important for fire breathers because there’s a
certain degree of responsibility that comes with the more destructive abilities
and it’s best they understand the consequences of fire breathing before simply
setting everything on fire just to watch it burn.”
They all nodded in understanding.
“How hot can he burn?” Raleigh asked.
Chuck sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he considered. “He’s still young,”
he pointed out. “But, Lucky says that by the time he’s fully grown - in a few
more years - he should be able to spit plasma, which will melt the Kaiju clear
through on contact.”
Stunned silence surrounded him, and it took him a moment to realize it, looking
around at the suddenly large group of cadets that had been listening in. Yancy
and Raleigh looked impressed.
Raleigh clapped him on the shoulder. “Feed him everything. Feed him Jaz, if you
have to, she’s a spitfire.”
Jazmine punched her brother in the arm. From the solid sound of the connection,
Raleigh was built like a dragon cave. Chuck looked to see if she’d shake the
hand out, but Jazmine clearly had experience with physical altercations with
the older Beckets, and simply tucked her hand in her pocket.
“No wonder Gipsy’s all aflutter,” Yancy teased. “That sort of power doesn’t
come around very often.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow at the comment, but his question was interrupted by
Mako asking one of her own. “Is it not common among fire breathers?”
The Beckets cocked their heads, in opposite directions, but in perfect
synchronicity.
“Well, that depends,” Raleigh replied.
“On what?” asked Jazmine.
“On where they come from,” interjected Yancy. “Fire breathers aren’t as common
as fairytales would have you believe. And it takes a certain...climate.”
“Hot as fuck,” Raleigh expanded.
Yancy gave him a withering look.
Jazmine laughed.
“Dragons live in aeries now,” Chuck explained. “But, they’ve crafted them to
benefit all the breeds co-existance.”
“Crafted?” echoed Jazmine. “I thought no humans were allowed in…” She seemed to
recall whom she was talking to and didn’t finish.
Chuck shook his head. “The dragons craft them themselves. When a certain number
of them band together, with different abilities, it only really takes about a
decade or two to get the aerie the way they want it. And most aeries were in
place long before our grandparents were born. Dragons foresaw a cohabitation
issue with humans and staked claim to the spots they wanted before we could
reach them.” He shrugged. “Probably not a person in the world can remember an
aerie just cropping up. They’ve had them in place for a long time. And people
just accepted it and settled around them - which was the entire purpose from
the start.”
There had been some exceptions, of course. Attempts by people who sought power
over all living things and saw the dragons as a challenge. There would always
be those kinds of people, but with the world in the state it was in, Chuck
figured it would never have quite the same dangerous edge to it that it’d once
had. There would be legions of humans on the dragons side in a few generations,
if not the entire world.
People were staring at him again, some in ways that would have made him
uncomfortable, if Yancy and Raleigh weren’t smiling at him the way they were.
He raked a hand through his hair and shrugged, stuffing both hands in his
pockets so no one would notice them shaking. “Fire breathers manifest
differently,” he added after a swallow to manage the emotions swirling in his
gut. “But, Striker’s of a line that once slept in volcanoes. He could probably
roll around in the molten core of the planet and be happy. He was always really
warm to the touch, come to think of it.” The last comment was for the Rangers
among them alone. As if answering their earlier question belatedly. “Even as an
egg.” Which had probably accounted for his survival - two days in a dark, dank
fissure curled about it unconscious.
He started at the grip against his shoulder and looked up into Yancy’s
concerned eyes. He flashed a quick smile of reassurance, banishing the memory
somewhere it couldn’t reach him. Of course, the change in him had called
Striker to him subconsciously, and the dragon roared so loudly, the floor
trembled.
“Come on,” Raleigh said, throwing an arm about his sister’s shoulders. “Gipsy’s
outside.”
“That was Gipsy?” Mako asked, astonished.
“No, that was Striker,” Yancy replied. “But, Gipsy’s with him.”
“Come on, Chuck,” Raleigh said, already a few steps ahead with Jazmine. “You
know he won’t calm down until he sees you.”
Chuck sighed heavily. They were having a bad day. “The Marshall’s gonna have my
hide after today,” he grumbled.
“I’ll speak to him,” Mako soothed.
“Need a lift back?” he asked. “Striker can hold two now.”
She smiled. “Thank you. That would be most kind.”
Striker and Gipsy were in the courtyard. He was clearly agitated, wings spread
wide and tail thrashing. Dark plumes of smoke coiled from his nostrils and his
gold eyes flashed with the promise of violence. Gipsy looked entirely regal, as
composed as she was beside him. Her bright blue scales glimmering like moving
water in the sunlight.
“Gipsy! You planning to get us court martialed?” was Raleigh’s greeting as they
exited the building.
I thought it would be best to keep Striker company, she reasoned, looking
sideways at the irate younger dragon.
“Oi!” Chuck told him, and was nearly flattened by Striker’s snout as it met his
chest. His arms went about it reflexively, feet lifting clear of the ground.
Striker tossed his head back in one swift motion and Chuck landed on his back.
“Calm down,” he soothed, dropping his legs over either side of the base of his
dragon’s thick neck. All the motion ever really did was spread his legs wide,
and set his feet against the hollows between strong muscles and sinew. But it
relaxed Striker all the same to feel him so solidly. Chuck dug his feet in and
Striker’s muscles gave a quiver before he rolled his shoulders. “Nothing
happened,” he assured him, dropping forward to stroke over his scales.
Striker surprised him by opening to him fully, drawing him into a drift
unprepared. Chuck could vaguely feel his father, as his mind was assaulted
suddenly by sensations. Memories, emotions, and sensory impulses washing
through him quickly. He felt himself pulled by the current and instinctively
tried to fight it. He trusted Striker, but the new and untested connection of
their minds rolled him over until he couldn’t tell himself apart from anything
else within it. He heard the boom of a roar, and shouts. And then hands were on
him, turning him over and holding him down.
“CHUCK!” someone yelled in his face. “CHUCK!”
“STAY WITH US, KID!!”
“CHUCK!!”
“CHUCK!!”
The world was trembling, as if an earthquake had overtaken them. And Chuck was
at a loss as to the reason no one else seemed to notice.
CHUCK! CHUCK! Striker’s voice echoed in his head. CHUCK I AM HERE!
Fingers pried his mouth open. “He didn’t bite his tongue,” someone rasped,
relieved.
“Let’s get him on his side.”
Chuck knew the sounds of wings well, and could tell from the angry roar that
Lucky had just landed. Striker hissed back, but Chuck could feel the remorse
drifting free of him in waves.
Booted feet clambered over, his father and uncle taking the place of the
Rangers who had been tending to him. The Beckets, he belatedly realized.
“Fight later!” Uncle Scott snapped. “Lucky, we need to get him to medical now!”
Chuck felt his body lift free of the ground, in a solid hold that he recognized
from long ago. The memories surfaced again, and he jerked in pain. And then
they were in the air.
He must have lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew, he was
blinking up at a hospital ceiling. His whole body ached as if he’d been
electrocuted. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, all dry dead weight. He
swiped it across his lower lip - more slowly than he’d anticipated - and pain
shot up to burn white hot behind his eyes. He coughed, rolling over to throw
up, but all that happened was a slight jerk of his body in one direction and
his stomach promptly twitching until he thought it’d fall clean out of his
side.
“Hey,” a rough voice greeted. “Don’t try to move.”
Chuck groaned, a sound that indicated ‘too late’ and the owner of the voice
laughed softly, a warm, rich sound. Hands reached for him, making light
contact, and directing him with gentle pressure until he was more comfortable.
The sound of water was almost too loud for him to take, as it was poured into a
glass at his bedside. The mattress dipped and he was drawn up against a warm
chest, directed back into it - not that he could have done anything but slump
into it with all his weight, given the way his body was absolutely refusing to
cooperate. The lip of the glass met his and they parted with great effort.
Water was poured in slowly, allowing for a steady trickle to meet the back of
his throat and be swallowed. As they went, it became easier, but the effort
alone was herculean and left him more exhausted than anything.
The door opened, and someone asked, “How’s our patient?”
“First Drift lag is a bitch.”
“Solo drift lag can be crippling.”
“That explains the sexy pajamas.”
There came the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and the body he was propped up
against vibrated with amusement.
"How're you feeling, Chuck?" asked the new voice.
Chuck groaned. A cool hand brushed his brow and he closed his eyes, relaxing
further into the warm body behind him. The hand moved, cupping his cheek, then
touching his throat. “I think he’s a bit warm,” the new voice went on, before
pressing lips to his forehead. Chuck’s insides fluttered at the brush of skin
and he swallowed at the unfamiliar feeling. “Feel him, Rals.”
“He’s in my lap, Yance, I can feel him just fine.”
Slow dread ratcheted sharply into stark realization and Chuck’s stomach rolled
for entirely new reasons. A hand rested against his temple, lips pressing to it
after a moment. “Maybe a bit,” Raleigh agreed.
Chuck’s lungs seized in his chest. Did that count? Had he just been kissed by
Yancy and Raleigh Becket?!
“I’ll go get the doctor.”
He must have made a noise, because the bed dipped again, this time from the
other side. “Chuck?” Yancy queried softly. His warm breath drifted across
feverish, oversensitive skin and Chuck shivered. “You okay, kiddo?”
He felt his stomach drop out. Right...Right. It hadn’t counted at all. His
chest hurt suddenly and he curled in on himself weakly.
“Better get the doctor,” Raleigh urged, and Yancy’s touch to Chuck’s arm was a
butterfly’s kiss, as he got up before fully connecting.
“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” Raleigh assured him in what Chuck supposed was
meant to be comforting. The reminder that he was so much younger only made it
worse. Raleigh’s arms about him only a small concession in the laundry list of
his own faults.
Striker was apologetic to the point of being very nearly aggravating by the
time Chuck had recovered enough to be able to leave the hospital. He’d wanted
to be sprung a lot sooner than the doctors had allowed. And a combination of
hurt feelings, rejection, loneliness and boredom had made him short with
everyone. The longer he’d been confined, the worse it had gotten, until he was
very nearly acting the child he presumed the Beckets saw him as.
The moment he’d been released, he’d stalked to the dragon pens and climbed
under Lucky’s forelegs, curling up under her bulk, much like an egg in need of
warmth. Lucky had crossed her forelegs at their lowest joints and brought her
long neck down. Wings folding up and head resting inward where she could inhale
his scent.
She’d let him sulk until she felt he needed feeding, then promptly ratted him
out to his Uncle. Uncle Scott, however, was the coolest person Chuck had ever
had the good fortune to be related to. He’d gone to the canteen and brought
Chuck back a sandwich and contraband soda - his doctors were restricting his
sugar intake. Chuck had eaten in the safety of Lucky’s shadow and then curled
back under her to sulk some more.
Striker returned and paced, circling Lucky and appealing to Chuck in
increasingly desperate pleas until she’d snapped at him. He’d backed off and
curled up across from her, giving them ample space. He didn’t lower his head or
take any rest, gaze focussed on the space he knew Chuck to be until Chuck
couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I’m not angry with you,” he admitted quietly, climbing out from beneath Lucky
to sit again. He held out an arm and Striker’s long neck lowered his head in
relief. His eyes closed in bliss as Chuck stroked him below the jaw.
If you aren’t angry with me, he hedged after several minutes of soaking in his
Ranger’s presence. Then why are you so upset?
Chuck’s head dropped back and he ended up looking up at Lucky, who was looking
down at him. “My heart hurts,” he said quietly, barely audible. But dragon
hearing was superb and Striker ruffled in sudden alarm.
You should not be here! he protested. He sounded convinced, regardless of the
misery it would cause him to be kept from Chuck again.
The use of his full name brought his attention to Lucky and once she had it,
she lowered her head, the curve of her snout nuzzling Chuck gently. It is a
deeper hurt, she explained.
Striker looked to Chuck with genuine pain in his golden gaze, which quickly
flashed with anger. Tell me who it is and I will make sure they never do it
again!
Chuck just shook his head, closed his eyes and dropped back into the curve of
Lucky’s body. The dragons spoke quietly above him in movement and the stretch
of time. The meaning conveyed, two heads lowered to rest on either side of him,
and soon they were all asleep.
“Bend your knees more,” his Uncle called up at him and Chuck sank lower and
nearly toppled over. His father caught him just above the elbow and resettled
him.
“Like this,” he said and leaned slowly, but deeply in one direction, then the
other.
Chuck felt like an idiot.
“Good,” his father said. “Just like that.”
“WINGS UP!” Uncle Scott ordered and Striker obeyed. They were in serious
training now, and it could only be overseen by other pilots.
Chuck wobbled, throwing both arms out to keep his balance.
“Relax your arms.” His father shook his own arms slightly. “Keep your back
straight. You lean into dragon turns. Brace your feet and slide them on every
other wing beat to keep steady.”
Can we go up now? Striker asked in earnest.
“Not until your Rangers can both seat,” Uncle Scott replied.
Lucky, curled up and watching to the side, was close enough to keep him within
hearing range.
“I feel stupid,” Chuck grumbled, harness jangling slightly as his thighs bumped
the leather straps on either side of him.
You are not stupid, Striker protested. So you needn’t feel like it.
“It feels stupid at first, because it’s unnatural,” his father explained.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“It’s easier in drift,” Uncle Scott said, glaring back at his father as he was
glared at. “You can’t put it off forever. Herc, you’re trying to teach him how
to ride a bike before he can even stand. It’s not going to work and you know
it!”
Chuck blinked at his father. “Are we supposed to drift first?”
“We don’t have to-”
“YES.”
His father looked to his uncle, jaw twitching in anger. “Plenty of people-”
“If I have to hear this bullshit one more time-!”
Lucky made a deep, sharp noise and they both stopped.
“Dad,” Chuck sighed, appealing to the Ranger in him. “I’m not afraid-”
“I never said you were!”
I am not afraid. Lucky told me you must first be prepared. Are you prepared,
Chuck?
“Yes.”
Are you prepared, Herc?
“Yes!” Uncle Scott answered for him.
His father sighed and nodded, Striker having turned his head to look back at
them where they were harnessed on opposite sides between his shoulderblades.
Herc on the right and Chuck on the left.
This time it will not hurt! he informed Chuck with all seriousness, and just a
touch of glee.
Chuck braced himself, but it wasn’t as chaotic as he’d thought. In fact, it
felt amazing! He could feel every muscle in Striker’s body. The heat from his
incendiary gland a warm weight in Chuck’s gut. He blinked, seeing the world in
a stark array of colors, the likes of which he couldn’t have even imagined
before that moment. He looked to his father, who was looking at him with some
concern but seemed to be lacking the sheer wonder of it all on his face.
“Is it always like this?” he asked eyes drifting over everything excitedly.
Color and scent swirled all around them, alight in the air and stretching
across the empty spaces in long, elegant wisps.
“Yeah,” Uncle Scott replied with a laugh of happiness. “Isn’t it great?”
I am being fitted for armor today! Striker greeted him several weeks later,
near vibrating in delight. There were a few dozen people, a handful of ladders,
and bits of ramshackle scaffolding precariously balanced all around him.
Chuck frowned. He didn’t recognize most of them, beyond a few scattered here
and there who were members of Lucky’s crew, and likely present as moral
support.
We have our own crew! he added in excitement, wings flaring slightly to some
gasps and sudden flailing limbs.
“Ranger on deck!” someone called. It was a common warning all members of a J-
crew knew from their first day. Mostly precautionary, it was a means by which
to warn the crew that the dragon’s reactive impulses would be heightened. So
that they may better be on their guard. And their best behavior. The quickest
way to find oneself on a dragon’s shitlist was to in any way aggravate,
assault, or injure their Rangers. As it could happen through an accident as
likely as deliberately, fair warning was called, and anyone who fell into the
unfortunate situation regardless was on their own.
Chuck looked up, feeling an odd mix of happiness and pride swirl in his belly.
He was a Ranger now. Having graduated swiftly once his father had gotten over
his concerns toward exposing Chuck to further drifting. He and Striker were on
reserve for the moment, as his father, uncle and Lucky were a founding unit.
Hercules Hansen had a duty first and foremost to his own team. It meant that
Chuck and Striker wouldn’t see much action, but he was all right with that for
the moment. Striker hadn’t yet reached his full size or range of abilities and
the longer Chuck could keep him from being needlessly strained, the better a
show they’d make of it later.
He watched people regard him. The youngest pilot yet at fifteen. Untried,
untested, but exceptionally skilled. He’d had a dragon long before most had had
the chance. And what a dragon he was.
A low whistle sounded behind him and he felt the hair on his neck stand to
attention.
“That is a beautiful lay out, Striker,” Raleigh Becket commented.
Chuck didn’t have to turn and look to know both Beckets were behind him. Like
most dragon bonded Rangers, they were joined at the hip. It was very rare to
see one without the other, and on such occasions, it was not long before the
other found their way over.
Thank you, Striker chirped, practically preening in response.
When Raleigh didn’t respond, Chuck chanced a look behind him and noted Gipsy
wasn’t within sight. The Beckets couldn’t hear Striker.
“Where’s Gipsy?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Cherno and the Kaidanovskys are passing through,” Yancy informed him. “She and
Cherno are friends, so she’s abandoned us for the afternoon.”
“Cherno Alpha is here?” he asked, surprised.
“Something about supplies,” Raleigh responded. “Have you never seen her?” he
continued after a moment, looking Chuck over.
Chuck snorted. “I know Cherno.”
She tried to keep us.
“Did she now?” Yancy asked, both Beckets grinning.
Yes. She thought we were exceptional and fancied raising us herself. His wings
flared slightly, tail lashing lazily, caught up in his story. But, Lucky would
have none of it.
Chuck blinked up at the ceiling. Gipsy and Cherno were flying a little low, he
thought.
We were her little ones, and besides, it was too cold for us there.
“Could have stunted your growth,” Raleigh agreed, with a grin.
Yes, it was for the best we didn’t stay. Although, I do like Cherno regardless.
He shook himself out, sending secured crew members swinging in their safety
harnesses.
Chuck buried his face in his palm and tried not to laugh.
I think I will go join them. And without waiting, he stepped clear, extended
his wings and beat upward until he was aloft, ducking into a release shaft and
shooting away.
“He’s…” Raleigh said, teeth showing in a grin that was the only thing keeping
him from laughing outright.
“Excitable,” Chuck suggested.
“Impetuous,” Yancy said at the same time, finishing his brother’s statement. He
was managing to hold it together far better than the younger two Rangers,
solely by virtue of having turned his back on the hilarious show of upended
crew still being swung about.
Raleigh laughed, turning sideways in an attempt at politeness. Given the way
his shoulders were shaking, it was little help.
Cherno Alpha was the largest, broadest, heaviest dragon in the PPDC. She was
dark and covered in spikes with large, curving horns that flowed back from her
head in spiraling archs, falling well over the curve of her back. Her tail was
thick, ending in a heavy club covered in hard ridges. And if she weren’t
imposing enough, she could spray an acid blast from as far away as a mile and
have it land on a rapidly moving target. It was no wonder she managed to
protect the Siberian coastline mostly alone.
But for as imposing as she was, her personality betrayed her apperance of
ferocity.
Chuck, she rumbled in warm happiness, head lowering to nudge his cheek.
His hands reached up automatically and stroked her. “Long time, no see,
Cherno,” he greeted. “How’ve you been?”
Her head shifted so that the broad expanse of her snout could bump against him.
Well accustomed to such actions, Chuck kept his feet. We are all well, she
informed him. And happy to hear that you are now a Ranger. She lifted her head
free of him, neck raising so she could tilt it back skyward and release a few
short grunting sounds that Chuck knew was a celebratory call for dragons. Four
other dragons took up the sound and Chuck realized they were not alone. He’d
known Striker was there, could feel him through the bond they shared even if he
couldn’t see him. But Cherno’s mass seemed to be unintentionally concealing a
few others as well.
He took a few steps to the side to find Striker, Lucky, Gipsy and Romeo Blue.
His grin widened and he was moving before he’d even given it much thought.
Cherno’s head followed him on her long neck, the silver underscales of her body
glinting in the light like a work of priceless art.
“Romeo!” he greeted.
The dragon put its nose down allowing Chuck to stroke it in greeting.
It is good to see you, Chuck, she greeted.
Due to her name, many assumed Romeo Blue was a male dragon. Or perhaps people
were just more often stuck in the unfortunately misguided assumption that all
the dragons in the PPDC were male, because they fought. In truth, the majority
of the dragons in service were female, and if anything, should be assumed as
such without further knowledge.
In Dragon Society, it was female dragons who ran things, as they were the ones
who produced the eggs. Male dragons cared for the eggs while female dragons -
with their greater sense of protective instincts and desires to keep their
territories clear of anything that would cause their young harm - flew
perimeter patrol and engaged all hostiles. History and story - the majority of
which was written and handed down in the male gaze through the male line -
would have people believe that every fearsome dragon of old was male.
Regardless of the tale itself, getting everything absolutely, devastatingly
wrong.
Tales of Dragon hoards and the beasts within great glittering caves were about
the only stories where the likelihood of the dragon being male was higher than
it being female. As ancient ‘heroes’ would have been encroaching on dragon
nests and any young or potential young therein would have been left in the male
dragon’s care.
And all tales of sacrifices being offered were skewed stories of hostage
situations wherein a member of a dragon’s generationally tied family was taken
and used in an attempt to control the dragon itself. Many dragons had lost
long, multi-generational ties this way and after a while the practice had died
out, for fear of younger dragons experiencing the devastation. The war had
rekindled the tradition and changed the understanding of dragons all at once.
Bringing them from large, intelligent but otherwise wild beasts back to the
civil, social, sentient beings they were. Most of the world still seemed to
view them as war machines that obeyed the humans to whom they were assigned,
but given dragon history, the dragons themselves were not discomforted by the
widespread misinformation. Nor were many on various levels within the PPDC. As
fear and awe of them kept the safe. And people could be...dangerous when their
long held beliefs were threatened.
Chuck spent the afternoon in the dragons company. There was always something
relaxing and freeing in spending time with them. Dragons were enlightened and
understanding in ways humans weren’t, accepting in ways humans couldn’t, and
generally all around better. By the time they parted, having spent the later
hours in fellow Rangers’ company, Chuck felt as if a weight had been lifted
from his chest.
As he lay over Striker’s back, looking up at the stars he asked, “Striker, why
did you choose to be male?”
He’d wondered about it a lot since their conversation about Chuck’s own
sexuality.
It made sense to be.
“Why?”
The dragon exhaled in a sigh and Chuck smiled as it lowered him, sinking slowly
into scales before being risen back up. Because your own preference is to
males.
He sat up at that, confused and slightly alarmed. “Did you think I wouldn’t
like you if you were female?” he asked, feeling something tight twist inside
him at the thought.
Striker huffed the equivalent of a dragon laugh. You would love me regardless.
As I love you.
“Yeah, I would,” he assured him, stroking him with the hand at his side. “So
why?”
Because I was aware before you were that you held a male preference, I foresaw
the need to take a complimentary form. We hold no concerns over choice of
companionship, and we may chose differently at different stages of our lives,
but humans are more settled in this than we, and so it was more practical to be
male.
“I’m still not getting the why,” Chuck replied, rubbing at his brow. Striker
was talking in circles.
You will.
He’d clearly meant ‘one day’ because that had been the end of the discussion.
No matter how Chuck phrased the question or how often he asked, he received the
same round about answer. He hated to think that Striker had chosen in deference
to him and one day while complaining of it to Lucky in earshot of Gipsy
received an answer he hadn’t been expecting.
You are focusing on your own feelings in the matter and not taking his into
consideration, she informed him.
“I am taking his feelings into consideration!” he’d countered. “I don’t want
him to do this just because he feels like he has to, Gipsy! I want him to want
to be the gender he is for himself, and be comfortable in it without my comfort
being a factor.”
Humans must know a reason for everything, she commented. If there is no answer,
you are unhappy. If you do not understand an answer, you are unhappy. If you do
not agree with an answer, you are unhappy. Can you not be happy that there is
no need to question at all? Some things just are.
“Oh….I know that face,” Raleigh commented as Chuck wandered into the canteen.
“What’d Gipsy tell you?” sighed Yancy.
A chair was pushed out by a booted foot to the leg and Chuck went to it without
thinking. These were Gipsy’s Rangers after all, they knew her best and could
help him understand what she’d meant.
As he sat, a slice of chocolate cake was set down in front of him.
“You’re too young to drink,” was the explanation.
He took a bite of it absently, trying to put the exchange and his disjointed
thoughts in some semblance of order so it could be relayed properly enough to
get the right response.
Neither Becket said anything as he laid out the story, which he belatedly
realized included the reasoning behind the encounter in the first place. But,
neither brother looked uncomfortable. If anything, they took the news of
Chuck’s sexuality in a stride so easy, it may as well have been non-existent.
As if, it didn’t matter at all.
By the time the story was over, he’d eaten all the cake and half a pudding he
hadn’t realized he’d been given. And Yancy and Raleigh were nodding.
“She’s right, you know,” Yancy informed him gently.
“That I’m not thinking about Striker’s feelings?” he asked, feeling heat rise
in his face.
“Look at it this way,” Raleigh said, leaning in and holding up his hands. “If
you could choose your gender, what would you base the decision on?”
Chuck blinked.
“It’s not an easy process,” Yancy continued. “They have to change their entire
bodies to accommodate their gender. Sure, they can switch back and forth until
their first breeding, but most don’t. They pick one and they devote their
body’s resources to cultivating that gender, and then that’s it.”
“So if you had to go through a long, uncomfortable and slow process that you
first undertake at a young age, and you knew that you could change it, but it
would be the same process all over again, maybe even more uncomfortable the
second time around, wouldn’t you want to get it right the first time?”
Chuck nodded.
“So, what would you base the decision on?” Raleigh asked again. “You have no
idea what one gender is like over the other. You don’t have any real
understanding of gender at all. How do you decide?”
Chuck bit his lip and frowned into his pudding. Twisting the spoon around and
poking it.
“You go with your gut,” Yancy told him after a long silence.
Raleigh looked to his brother slightly exasperated like he’d wanted Chuck to
figure it out on his own no matter how long it took. Yancy shot him back a look
that Chuck couldn’t place, but knew meant something by the way Raleigh’s
shoulders sagged.
Yancy reached out and put a hand over Chuck’s forearm. It was a gentle,
comforting touch, but electricity sparked up Chuck’s nerves and he could feel
his breath catch. He became suddenly hyper aware of how close the brothers
were. How intimate their conversation was, and the location of it. They were
sitting in a corner, with no one about for several tables. As the brothers were
the only ones at Gipsy Danger’s space. Crews didn’t have to eat together and
tables weren’t assigned, but it was easier on the peace to do so, and
preferences were observed and quietly noted. Once the Rangers had chosen,
regardless of where crew had sat earlier upon arrival to a new Shatterdome,
they would immediately defer to the Rangers’ preference. And so it would hold
throughout their stay.
“You go with what feels right,” he continued.
Raleigh turned in his seat. “How did you know you were gay?”
Chuck swallowed. He wanted to blurt out ‘you’ because this simply could not be
happening. He wanted to pinch himself, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Even if it
was a dream - which, given his dreams, would sort itself out in short order.
He’d know he wasn’t conscious if they leaned in and started something. His
pants tightened as his body responded to that bit of news, images coming
unbidden and unchecked. He tried desperately to distract himself, but every
shift of his eyes only landed on more Becket. Why did they have to be so
goddamn beautiful?!
Yancy’s hand hadn’t moved, and Raleigh was sitting so close that his knee
brushed Chuck’s hip when he’d shifted. Heat and arousal burned through him,
churning in his gut like the feel of Striker’s incendiary gland during drift.
He gripped his spoon tightly, glad it wasn’t plastic so it wouldn’t be obvious.
“You just knew, didn’t you?” Raleigh urged, but he was so close Chuck’s brain
automatically translated the hushed tone to keep his voice from carrying across
the room to a bedroom voice and felt muscles jerk around his abdomen.
He nodded, red as anything, he knew. Too embarrassed to meet their eyes.
“And that’s how Striker knew,” Yancy replied, giving his arm a supportive
squeeze.
That night, Chuck didn’t sleep with the dragons. Instead, he locked his bunk
and indulged in wild fantasies until he was too exhausted to move. In the
morning neither dragon asked after his absence, and he flushed in the
realization that they didn’t have to.
Alaska was entirely too damn cold in the winter, and he was glad when the order
came to transfer across Shatterdomes. They were headed back to Australia and
Chuck could hardly contain his excitement. He’d packed as soon as orders
arrived, he and Striker still attached to Lucky’s dispatches, by way of sharing
a co-pilot. And as a descendent of Herc’s, he could in theory also be required
to fly with him or his uncle on her should a need arise. They were a family of
interchangeable parts, but it suited them.
Striker himself was not as enthusiastic and in fact spent the dwindling
countdown to their departure growing increasingly more melancholy.
“What’s wrong?” Chuck asked him the day before they were to leave. “We’re going
home! Don’t you want to go home? We haven’t been there in so long.”
Striker simply exhaled and blinked once before shifting his head against the
ground and forlornly closing his eyes.
“Striker, talk to me! Please.”
He will settle, Lucky informed him, interrupting. Leave him be for now, Chuck.
Chuck looked sideways at his dragon and sighed, trotting away from him at
Lucky’s beckoning.
At two in the morning, he was awoken by the sounds of an alert. The dragons all
unfurled from their resting places, heads craning to watch as their J-crews
came rushing in. Gipsy unfurled her wings and gave herself a shake as her crew
scrambled in and promptly moved to the armor bay to be equipped. Romeo
followed.
Chuck stood as the crews ran to the dragon bays, machinery whirling to life to
crane the humongous pieces of plate armor that protected the dragons from
additional damage. They were fairly hardy as a species, but regular engagement
necessitated certain precautionary measures and all Jaeger teams were fully
equipped with as much armor as could be comfortably borne.
He padded across Lucky’s back, having fallen asleep between her shoulderblades
and slid down the length of her tail. Neither her nor Striker’s crew had run in
and he was curious as to why they’d been grounded. “Oi, Elvis,” he complained
into the wall comm.
“What can I do you for, Chuck?” came Tendo’s cheery reply. If the LOCCENT
master wasn’t worried, it couldn’t be that great an issue.
“What’re we looking at?”
“You know, one of these days you’ll be sleeping in your room and get updates as
they come in like a normal person.”
“Elvis, I’m a fifteen year old Ranger who rides dragons out to battle
Godzilla’s cast offs. Normal was never on the table.”
Tendo laughed. “Category Four, codename Knifehead-”
“You really need to come up with more original names, mate.”
“Romeo and Gipsy on the roll.”
“Why aren’t there any Hansens at this party?”
“You’ve been off-rostered. You leave in eight hours. You’re Sydney’s now.”
“Marvelous.”
“What’s the matter, Chuck?” came Raleigh’s voice over the comm. “Afraid you’re
gonna miss all the fun?”
“Come on, Rals, you know Chuck’s just worried the Kaiju are going to suddenly
dry up before he gets a chance.”
“We should be so lucky,” Tendo drawled.
“Bite me, Becket!”
“Later,” they chorused.
Chuck waved to them as they crossed the bay in full gear. Their helmets were
already on - which explained the comm patching - but they still saw him and
waved back in high spirits.
“Be careful out there,” he told them, watching as they rode the lift to the
flight platform, walking right off it in full confidence that Gipsy wouldn’t
move. She didn’t of course, and they strode across her back to lock in. “Don’t
break anything important.”
They both laughed.
“No promises,” Raleigh replied.
“Good morning, Becket Boys!”
“Tendo, what’s happening my man?”
“How’d that date with Alison go last night, Mr. Choi?”
Chuck flipped the switch and crossed back to where Lucky and Striker were
waiting, alert and ready. “We’re not even on standby,” he informed them,
climbing up Striker’s nose and walking up the center of his face to settle atop
his head. Whenever general call rose, the dragons had a tendency to get
protective.
He could see Tamsin, shrugging on her jacket, boots untied as she shuffled
determinedly out to Coyote Tango, whose ruff lowered as she approached. She
waved and Chuck waved back; it was mostly a raised arm and spread fingers, but
Tamsin and 2 A.M. had never been the best of friends. Chuck could understand
any additional grumpiness on her part, having been forced to sit back and wait
out engagements many times himself. He hadn’t been a Ranger then, and it had
been difficult. Now that he was, it was nearly painful. But they had their
orders.
He sprawled out over Striker’s head and lay face up with his arms tucked behind
his own. “We might as well go back to sleep,” he told them.
Neither dragon commented, but they didn’t really need to. They all knew no
one’d be getting any rest until the others returned.
Not knowing eventually rankled, but he refused to flip the comm back on. It was
rude to listen in on another Ranger’s flight uninvited. He knew neither the
Beckets nor the Gages would care, but Marshall Stacker Pentecost was on deck,
and as he hadn’t yet had a mission of his own, he didn’t want to accidentally
do something that would ensure he never received one.
It didn’t stop Tamsin however, and sound carried well in the dragon pens.
The Kaiju had evaded the Gages, who’d been sent further south than necessary,
and the Beckets ended up with the full brunt of the Kaiju’s surprise attack.
LOCCENT had tracked it, but when Gipsy and the Beckets had arrived, it had
submerged so deeply in the water, they’d been forced to fly lower to search for
it.
The echo of Gipsy’s roars could be heard from within and without the bays, and
Chuck sat up anxiously. Dragons were shifting in response and that was never a
good sign.
The Gages were on their way back but having overshot, and with Romeo not the
swiftest flier, they were too far away to provide assistance. Chuck watched his
dad and uncle come running in and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
Lucky went to be armored, and the elder Hansens were being equipped when the
screaming started.
It wasn’t unusual for Kaiju to go after a dragon’s Rangers. Injury to them
forced the dragon to retreat in a blind panic, and any sort of threat was taken
as a personal affront. The dragons became difficult to guide when their Rangers
were endangered, minds taking on a hard, dangerous edge that called to mind
their status as top of the food chain and reverberated with the fierce
instincts of any wild animal.
Yancy and Raleigh were talking over each other, and Tendo and the Marshall over
them. Chuck caught snippets, based on the urgency of the tones, and his
predilection toward the Beckets. Gipsy’s chest armor had been breached. She was
bleeding. Something about water. And below the enraged roars, more screaming.
This time, with little more attached to it than response to impulses.
“YANCY! NOOOO!” echoed through the bays, Gipsy’s agonized roar ripped through
just below it, rattling all the armor in the hangar.
“RALEIGH!! RALEIGH!!” the Gages cried as one. “RALEIGH NO!”
It was the last thing Chuck heard, the wind tearing away the sound. Striker had
taken flight without orders and with absolutely no warning. Chuck wasn’t about
to scold him, as he was of the same mind. They had no harness, no armor - for
him or Striker - no flares, absolutely nothing but their will and what strength
Striker’s rage brought forth.
Chuck was privately grateful for every last drill, as he settled himself
between two of Striker’s spines, shoving his shoulder against the boney curve
to keep him seated, knees flexed and feet shifting to maintain balance. Striker
was the fastest flyer in the PPDC, and they reached the entanglement in no time
at all, with his dragon’s heart driven to push himself. Romeo’s jaws were
locked about Knifehead’s skull protrusion, her fore and rear legs scrabbling as
she fought to keep purchase and score hits against it. The Kaiju had been
electrocuted something awful, large chunks of its breast fallen away, and a
pair of charred minor forelegs crippled against it. Below its haunches Gipsy
thrashed, her tail and neck making great waves. The tip of a wing flailing out
of the water every so often as she fought to keep her head above the water, and
not be rolled onto Raleigh who was presumably still attached and likely
unconscious. Chuck knew Gipsy would drown before she’d allow herself to be used
to kill him, she wouldn’t have been struggling so wildly if it weren’t the
case. Which was one Becket accounted for at least.
Striker roared, a sound that seemed to still every other creature present,
which was helpful as it gave Chuck the moment of hush to cry, “ROMEO GET OUT OF
THE WAY!” in time for the dragon to break free as Striker’s jaws parted and the
brightest fire Chuck had ever seen burst free of him.
The Kaiju roared and reared. Romeo turned, clubbing it in the center of its
chest swiftly enough to not catch fire herself. The Kaiju overbalanced and
Striker swept in a clean turn and blasted it again. Chuck didn’t think a second
hit was necessary, but he wasn’t about to argue and Striker wouldn’t have
listened anyway.
Knifehead screeched and thrashed. The saltwater caught fire and Chuck had a
terrified moment of concern for Gipsy and the Beckets before Striker was
lunging down and impaling the Kaiju with the claws of all four legs. The
Kaiju’s cries were piercing, but Striker lifted and hurled it further away,
beating his wings to keep them in place, tail striking the water to cut great
slashes. He roared again and a third round of flames caught the Kaiju square in
the face. A second volley compliments of Lucky herself who’d just arrived. She
rarely breathed fire, as she explained she didn’t quite have the heart for it.
But the light of her flame was powerfully bright in the darkness and Chuck
could feel the warmth of it from atop Striker.
The Kaiju stopped making sounds, body twitching only minorly as what was left
responded to the aft brain’s undamaged state.
Striker landed in the water heavily, his head disappearing under the water and
absolutely soaking Chuck a moment later. He backed up as Gipsy’s head landed
against Striker’s side, shifting down as quickly as he dared to check for signs
of life. Between them, the three dragons managed to carry Gipsy and a dangling
Raleigh back to the ‘Dome. Striker had barely set his part of Gipsy down before
they were off again.
The second trip was much colder than the first. The sharp winter chill sinking
into Chuck’s soaked (and light) clothing. But he said nothing and kept his eyes
open, drifting with Striker so they could use the combination of their senses
for the search. It was hard to see, with the Kaiju carcass bleeding out
sluggishly and murking up the water, but they managed to catch sight of him.
The flash of his armor catching the dying embers of Striker’s attack on
Knifehead in stray patches that bobbed across the ocean. Chuck didn’t even
think, merely reacted, diving in as soon as they were level. Striker wouldn’t
be able to reach him and free him without ripping Yancy’s arm off in the
process. As it was, it took Chuck fifteen minutes of tugging and shoving and
careful swipes from Striker to get Yancy free of the rock outcropping he’d been
embedded within.
Arms about him, he tugged him up into position against him and held on to
Striker’s spines with numb limbs as they raced back. Lucky was on her way back
to search for them and turned to follow after them. Striker landed with a boom
in the hangar and Chuck let go. He and Yancy sliding bonelessly down the
dragon’s side.
Striker shifted, spreading a wing to catch them and cushion the fall. They
rolled as they hit the ground and medical was on them immediately. The crinkle
of heating foil and the flash of lights passing as he was put on a gurney and
wheeled out was the last thing his mind registered before losing to
unconsciousness.
When next he woke, everything hurt. And in a way he was unused to it doing so.
His lungs burned and his skin felt like it had been broken off and was hanging
on only due to the connection to his nerve endings which were raw and screamed
at him loud enough to split his head in two.
“Chuck?” came a voice.
He frowned, face scrunching up at the sound.
“Mr. Hansen.”
His eyes opened in response to the command, registering the hazy figure of the
Marshall. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed, gagging suddenly.
“Easy, Chuck,” his uncle soothed, resting a hand to his chest. “You’ve been
intubated. Don’t fight it, just relax.” His hand stroked down Chuck’s
breastbone and Chuck tried to focus on it. His uncle did it a few more times
until Chuck’s features had smoothed out. The tube was the most irritating thing
Chuck had ever been forced to endure and nothing he did could quite make him
ignore it. But after collecting himself, he met the Marshall’s gaze again.
“I’m aware,” Stacker said. “That the circumstances of the engagement with
Knifehead in which you found yourself were of your dragon’s choosing.” Chuck
shook his head, but the Marshall held up a hand. “Instinct drove him, yes. But
you were not consulted either time, and in any event, the situation warranted
action - ordered or otherwise. Be advised, this is the only time you will be
pardoned from such a breach of conduct.”
Chuck blinked at him.
“Your Jaeger’s action saved the lives of two of the PPDC’s finest.” Chuck felt
something unravel in his chest. “Congratulations on your first kill, Ranger
Hansen.”
His breath caught long enough that a slight beeping came from one of the
machines and his father leaned over - having been standing by his head, and
thus out of Chuck’s immediate line of sight - and kissed his brow. “Breathe,
Chuck,” he murmured against his skin.
The breath all rushed out and he ended up choking as oxygen pumped in at twice
the efficiency. His father stroked his hair back, and his uncle took his hand
and gave it a bit of a squeeze.
“Let’s see about getting you more comfortable,” the Marshall said, turning.
“Nurse!”
Yancy Becket had torn his rotator cuff, broken his arm at the stress points of
every joint and looked like he’d lost a fight with the side of a building, but
he grinned as Chuck was wheeled into his and Raleigh’s shared room.
“My hero!” he exclaimed brightly, uninjured arm extended in welcome.
Chuck flushed, looking down.
“That is so adorable,” Raleigh commented from his own bed. Though he’d remained
harnessed and thus hadn’t been lost to the water as Yancy had, because of the
position he’d been in and the struggle to keep him from being crushed, he’d
sustained internal injuries and had needed abdominal surgery. He was propped up
by as many pillows as Chuck figured they could find, a tube with what Chuck
knew to be damn fine painkillers connected to the I.V. tucked into his inner
arm. He’d sustained a few burns due to his armor heating in the water under the
force of Striker’s initial blast, and that arm - the opposite of Yancy’s - was
carefully wrapped and slung. “Do it again!”
Yancy chuckled as red swathed up the back of Chuck’s neck. “Aww, leave him
alone, Rals.” He beckoned Chuck over and the orderly rolled him up beside Yancy
and locking his wheels, left quietly.
“It is damn adorable though,” he informed Chuck with a wink.
Chuck’s eyes darted back down to his tangled fingers resting in his lap and
both Beckets laughed softly.
“Thank you,” the elder said with so much feeling, Chuck looked back up
immediately.
“We owe you,” Raleigh added.
“I didn’t-” he began to protest, but they cut him off, both shaking their
heads.
“I don’t care what anyone says. Striker didn’t jump into a Kaiju Blue ridden
patch of ocean and spend fifteen minutes in freezing water clawing my arm out
of solid rock in nothing but sleep pants and a tank.” He tilted his head,
waiting for Chuck to meet his eyes. “You did.”
Chuck felt his heart thud.
“You could have let Striker just grab me and go-”
“He would have torn your arm off!” Chuck gasped in horror.
Yancy smiled, nodding. “Exactly.”
“You showed initiative,” Raleigh added. “Cool head under pressure. You may not
have had a choice in the matter, but you used what you knew to your advantage.
You saved Yancy’s life. You saved mine. And you saved Gipsy’s. Spoke to her the
whole way back. I heard you.”
Chuck swallowed hard. He couldn’t exactly recall what he’d said, and he hadn’t
thought Raleigh would have remembered any of it besides. Hadn’t thought
Raleigh’d been able to hear him to begin with, but then...he had been in drift.
“So did I,” Yancy said. “If not all of it, enough.”
“There’s a special place you go, when you’re near death,” Raleigh explained.
“Somewhere only dragons know. We’d heard of it, but…” They looked to each
other. “Your dragon puts you there, so you won’t feel the pain, so you won’t
see the killing blow coming, so you won’t suffer.”
“Gipsy kept us there. We had a lot of time to think, while we waited on her. On
death. Whichever came first.”
“Chuck…” He exhaled heavily and raked the hand of his I.V. ladened arm through
his blond hair. “We haven’t exactly been…” He licked his lip, drawing it into
his mouth to pin it between his teeth.
Chuck looked from one to the other, confused.
“We thought, we’d wait until you were older,” Yancy explained.
They were silent for a long moment. One that seemed to stretch on even longer
as no one spoke. Chuck didn’t know what was going on, but could feel the weight
of its importance and so kept silent for once in his life and remained patient,
whether through fear or out of necessity, he couldn’t say.
“Have you looked at us?” Raleigh asked just when Chuck thought he couldn’t bear
it any longer and began frantically searching for something to say. “When
drifting with Striker. Have you looked at us?”
“Yeah,” Chuck replied, relieved to be able to contribute somehow. “I was
looking at you when we rescued you.”
“And you found me,” Yancy said. “You saw me in pitch black water, ensconced in
dark rocks, five feet below the surface.”
“You were shiny,” Chuck informed him.
“I was shiny,” Yancy said, as if that was answer enough.
“Your armor-”
“You knew I was still harnessed to Gipsy,” Raleigh cut in.
“The way she was moving-”
“No. You said, and I quote: ‘Careful Romeo, Raleigh’s on your left.’ There were
two dragons between us at the time.”
“You were…”
“Shiny?” they asked.
Chuck swallowed. “...Yeah.”
“You’re shiny to us too,” Raleigh told him.
“I don’t…”
Yancy heaved a sigh. “It’s...not ideal,” he began. Chuck could tell it was
difficult for him to get out, whatever it was. “Our age differences...Ten years
from now, they wouldn’t matter. Hell, five years from now- But as it stands…”
“You’re fifteen, Chuck.”
He opened his mouth, paused, then snapped it shut. Eyes going wide slowly.
“Yeah,” Raleigh said, holding his gaze. Yancy said it at the same time, but his
was accompanied by a heavy sigh of resignation.
“We’ve known for a while,” the elder Becket confessed.
“A long while,” Raleigh admitted.
“We just…” He waved his uninjured hand around, at a loss. “You’re so young.”
“Not that that’s your fault!”
“No, no. Not your fault.”
“It’s just...that...well, you know.”
Chuck nodded, stunned.
“We wouldn’t even be telling you,” Raleigh went on. “If not…”
Yancy sighed again. “We can’t keep it from you anymore. Not when...not when it
affects you like this.”
“Affects me?” Chuck asked, finding his voice.
“Striker may have been the one to break rank, but you wanted it just as much as
he did. You didn’t even try to stop him,” Raleigh said.
“You were willing to risk your life for ours.”
“I love you,” Chuck defended. It wasn’t an outburst, it hadn’t been halted or
stilted. It had rolled off his tongue, a simple fact. He didn’t even feel sorry
about it. Didn’t feel dread, or shame, or mortification. He felt...unchanged.
As if…
“We know,” Yancy said softly.
“And you love me,” Chuck replied. It wasn’t even a guess. It wasn’t a question.
“We love you,” Raleigh confirmed with a nod.
Chuck leaned back in his wheelchair.
The Beckets didn’t say anything further.
They sat in quiet for a while.
“I’m going to grow up,” Chuck said eventually. He looked up, met each pair of
eyes, one and then the other. “In five years it won’t matter.”
Yancy frowned, brow furrowing slightly.
Raleigh lifted an eyebrow.
“So we pretend. And we...we stay friends. And we don’t die.”
They each huffed quietly in amusement.
“And in five years…”
“Five years,” they agreed.
Chuck reached over and unlocked his wheelchair, prodding the call button a few
feet away. “Hey, Elvis! Think we can get some chocolate cake down here?”
“I’m not an operator, Chuck.”
“None of us are allowed sugar.”
“But, I am a black market dealer, apparently. I’ll bring it down myself. I have
a break in five minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“Cake?” Yancy and Raleigh asked when he turned back around.
Chuck shrugged. “None of us can drink.”
When Tendo arrived, the Becket Boys were still laughing.
***** Act II *****
“I hear we’re going to be grandparents!” Raleigh greeted him, slinging an arm
about him as he came into range. Chuck leaned into it minutely, though it
probably looked as stiff necked as usual. Which was to their benefit really.
They didn’t see each other all that often, for being in the same branch of
service, although a lot of that had to do with Gipsy and the Beckets two years
of recovery post Knifehead. Gipsy had required the most physical care, as she’d
been badly mauled and nearly drowned by the Kaiju. Raleigh had been the first
to recover, the burns on his arm leaving a scar that to Chuck was absolutely
beautiful. The intricate patterns that hailed him as Gipsy’s Ranger - something
in line with their true names, that rang of secrets waiting to be discovered -
had been literally branded onto him. It stretched from his collarbone and over
his shoulderblade, extending all the way down his left side as far as his hip.
He wasn’t shy about it and in fact, wore the scars with pride. Whenever he
would be about without his shirt, Chuck traced the lines with his eyes, fingers
itching to do similarly. As he’d grown, his tongue had taken an interest as
well, and there were days he nearly couldn’t function out of want.
Yancy’s arm had recovered, and months of intense physical therapy had returned
full use of it to him, but on bad weather days, in extreme heat or cold, or
every other Sunday, he’d shift and rub and otherwise do his best not to
complain about the ache. His grip and dexterity had slipped somewhat, and he
was every now and again sensitive about it - mostly when he couldn’t do
something that he’d once taken for granted - but overall, he’d been returned to
himself.
Their body shapes had changed, reflecting the different exercises they’d taken
to in lieu of those they’d been forced to abandon. They were both still solid
muscle, but there was a lingering taper to the lines of them that Chuck could
fall into for days. They’d kept to their words, each and every one of them, but
as Chuck grew, he found himself growing anxious and had - for his eighteenth
birthday - pulled a few strings to see about acquiring a very specific birthday
present. He wasn’t about to laud it over anyone - he wasn’t an asshole - but
there were advantages to ones co-pilot sleeping with the Marshall. And he never
intended to poke that particular bridge ever again.
“How are we grandparents?” Chuck replied, raising a brow at him.
“We hatched them, we raised them from dragoncy...Grandparents.”
Chuck thought about it and nodded after a moment.
“Jesus. Don’t tell me you buy into his whole ‘Grandparents’ shpiel,” was the
first he heard of Yancy. He was standing in the doorway, shoulder to the frame.
The sun was at his back and he had never looked more beautiful.
Chuck shrugged again. “Can’t help it if it makes sense, mate.”
Yancy groaned, and rubbed at his eyes. “You two are going to be the death of
me.”
 
“Can I see it?” he asked, as they made it over.
Yancy wrapped an arm about him and tugged him free of Raleigh, hugging him
tightly. “Of course you can,” he said, turning. His arm remained a weight about
Chuck’s shoulders and Raleigh followed behind.
“Gipsy’s beside herself,” Raleigh informed him.
Chuck laughed.
The breeding of PPDC Jaeger Dragons was a new development, and the Beckets and
Hansens had signed up their dragons for the program at their own requests. The
process had been pretty direct, and they’d gotten temporary leave while
preparations were made. Now that they’d bred, their genders were locked into
their genetics, but Chuck had it on good authority that neither dragon minded
in the least.
They were still together, having returned the day prior for the laying.
Although it was in their natures to remain together until the dragonling turned
three, the fact that both had been raised by humans made it easier for them to
depart from even instinctual conventions. As Striker was needed for service,
Lucky - retired after receiving severe traumatic injuries in a Kaiju battle
that affected her dexterity in the air to incompatible battle statistics -
would be Gipsy’s companion for the duration of the egg’s incubation. For the
moment, they were all stationed at the Los Angeles Shatterdome - a not so happy
medium between the maternal and paternal lineages, as Gipsy’s egg had been laid
in Alaska and Striker’s in Australia.
Both heads raised as their Rangers entered the pens.
“Look who we found!” Raleigh said, cheerfully, grasping Chuck by the shoulders
and giving him an almost imperceptible shake.
Chuck, both dragons greeted him, full of affection.
“Can I see it?”
Of course you can, Gipsy replied. She uncurled slightly, tail sliding, wings
raising, to unveil a dark oval shaped egg with speckles of silver and gold.
“That’s going to be a beautiful baby,” he said, without thinking.
Striker and Gipsy made pleased sounds and nuzzled one another. Raleigh’s hands
flexed against his shoulders and Yancy’s arm gave a slight jerk in echo of a
hug.
“I want to talk to you about my birthday,” Chuck said as they helped him settle
in. It was entirely an excuse to spend time together and they were all aware of
it, but it had become tradition anyway.
“We thought you might,” Yancy replied. There was nothing in his tone that
indicated what they’d speculated about, and whether or not they agreed to
whatever they’d come up with. Chuck found he wanted to know the answers all
around.
Raleigh sat on the bed and gave the mattress a slap. Chuck moved to sit beside
him. Yancy grabbed the desk chair and set it down across from them, straddling
it backwards and resting his arms over the back.
“I’m eighteen,” he informed them, as if they hadn’t been aware. They nodded
regardless, but didn’t comment. Chuck inhaled - steadying himself - and
released it in a long sigh. “I know we agreed five years, and I’m not about to
go back on my word, but we’re halfway there and I thought...Well, I’m legal now
and…” He swallowed. It took a moment, but he’d rehearsed it often enough, and
it was his very legal birthday and it what he wanted. Lifting his chin he
continued, “All I want for my birthday is you. One day, one night, and then we
can go back to the way it was before.”
Raleigh sighed. “Oh Chuck…” He reached out and trailed the backs of his fingers
in a barely there caress down his spine. “No, it won’t.”
“If this is what you want,” Yancy said, hands folded together over the neck of
the chair. “We’ll agree. But, you need to know that if we do this, Chuck,
things are going to change. Whether you want them to or not. Whether you
acknowledge them or not. There is no going back from this.”
“You’re still on active duty,” Raleigh added quietly. “You’re the best the PPDC
has right now and they need you. But, what we do, Chuck...there is no
guarantee. So, we will, but things...things’ll only get complicated. And we’ll
have to do our best to overcome them.” He paused to inhale, lips pressed
together. “No matter how we feel,” he finished quietly.
“Aren’t you coming back?” he asked, suddenly crushed. He’d always thought..He’d
never imagined...
Yancy reached for his hands, taking them between his and squeezing. “We’re
retiring, Chuck.”
It felt like a blow to the gut. He shook his head. “No, you...you’re getting
better,” he protested. “And Gipsy-”
“Lists when she flies now.”
He blinked several times, trying to make it make sense in his head, but nothing
would slot into proper order. Their dragon was lame, she’d be an open target,
an angle for the kaiju to use against them. Yancy and Raleigh’s lives would be
at stake - not to mention Gipsy’s - and it was common practice to leave the
service when your dragon could no longer fight with the odds in the PPDC’s
favor. But he’d thought...he’d dreamed...He nodded in understanding and Raleigh
pressed up against his side. “We’re sorry, Chuck,” he murmured softly against
his ear.
When they’d all had it out over two years ago, Chuck had naively thought it was
the end of the worst times. They’d all survived Knifehead, they’d confessed
their feelings for one another, and they’d privately sworn to try in five
years. Two and a half years in and they were already failing.
“Do you still want…?” He didn’t finish, and neither moved as they waited.
Chuck couldn’t look at them. He was heartbroken, and he didn’t want to make
them feel condemned over it, but he couldn’t hide his feelings. Not over this.
“Ranger Hansen to LOCCENT,” came the page. “Chuck, get your ass up here.”
He’d never been so relieved and so conflicted at the same time. Raleigh
withdrew, fingers trailing slowly until they drifted free of him and Yancy held
his hands a moment longer, leaning in to kiss the knuckles once lightly before
letting go.
It took Chuck a long time to realize it had been goodbye.
Yancy and Raleigh Becket had always been the best at everything they did, and
had put their entire selves into it. Chuck knew they’d always love him. Could
still see the bright, starlike glow of them through Striker’s eyes that marked
them as one another’s in dragons sights. Long before he’d ever realized he’d
had a crush, Chuck had been theirs and they had been his. And he would never
forget that.
Over the years, they kept track of one another through friends, family and
dragons. Gipsy and Striker’s egg hatched and had ignored every last member of
the graduating class of that year, finding a preference in Mako Mori and
Jazmine Becket. Both had been overjoyed, and had promptly moved in together,
the better to raise it.
The dragonling was as beautiful as Chuck had assumed from the egg. With Gipsy’s
regal figure and blue scales and Striker’s fierce gold eyes and silver
undercarriage. Unlike most dragons in the PPDC, the dragonling was aware of its
lineage and was granted regular contact with its parents, their Rangers, and
Lucky and Coyote’s own families. It was a different time, with the face of the
war changing on a daily basis.
The Kaiju were getting larger, stronger, faster, more intelligent. And they
were coming with greater frequency. It was all any of them could do to keep up,
let alone meet them head on and take them out as they had once been able to.
Times were getting desperate, as they lost more and more Jaegers to mauling and
grievous injury. No dragons had died, but they’d lost Rangers, and those
dragons who had survived them had fallen into deep depressions from whence
there was no recall.
What used to take one or two dragons at worst, now took five or six at best,
and they no longer had the numbers they once had. They were losing.
Chuck stood, Kaiju blood sliding down his suit and stared at the mess that had
once been downtown Sydney. Vulcan Spectre and Echo Saber would not be getting
back in the air any time soon. Vulcan could still fly, but was favoring a hind
leg and both of her Rangers were critically injured. And while Echo’s Rangers
had managed to survive - albeit badly banged up - the dragon herself had nearly
had one wing ripped clean off, and it was unlikely, even if she had the time to
heal, that she’d be back on the force. Ever.
Striker was nearly covered in Kaiju blood, but otherwise unharmed. His speed,
dexterity and fully matured plasma abilities had saved them once again. They
stood, the only team left that could, in a wasteland with a dead Kaiju at their
feet. Someone had taken a picture, and it was splashed all over the news within
the hour. Herc and Chuck Hansen, weary and dripping blue, standing against a
backdrop of fallen towers, Striker in a powerful but poignant pose behind them,
and in the foreground, Mutavore’s corpse releasing a river of blood into the
street.
They’d barely managed to get out of their suits and start the process of
getting clean before the orders came. Hong Kong. Chuck sighed and dropping his
towel, went to shower.
Striker was still battle worn and the flight to Hong Kong had been slow and
arduous. By the time they arrived, both dragon and Rangers were exhausted. His
father struck his gear as quickly and efficiently as ever, but Chuck lingered.
Going to reacquaint himself with the Wei triplets and Crimson. The only dragon
left on the force with a body that moved like a banner in the wind, her
multiple legs at odd intervals along her sides. She was small, but she was
long, and in the air unmatched in dexterity with full command of the winds. She
was also the only dragon in the history of the PPDC to have three Rangers. A
fact for which she was rather distinctly proud.
Cherno’s team had arrived, the J-crew filing in ahead of the dragon, who always
escorted her crew as they were choppered in, flying lazy circles to keep them
in sight and safe. She wouldn’t enter the hangar until the last of them had
made their way inside and the choppers had taken off for their crews to find
their own rest.
Hello, Chuck! came a cheery greeting that rebounded off Striker, who was busy
keeping his feet while the crew removed his armor. The dragons always flew them
over when they could bear the weight. Most of the time it was for convenience.
Occasionally, however, it proved more useful, as one or two Kaiju had attacked
mid transfer, and the additional albeit unintentional precautions had saved
lives.
Chuck turned and found himself face to face with Striker and Gipsy’s
dragonling. It had gotten rather large in the near year since he’d seen it
last, and the mix of happiness and concern on its face reminded him of Striker
at that age. He grinned and reached out to stroke it along the ridges it had
inherited from its father. “Hey you,” he murmured. It turned its head into the
petting, making a soft rumbling noise of contentment.
Jazmine Becket was standing behind it, smiling at him.
“Hey, Jaz,” he greeted, his momentary distraction earning him a dragon nose to
the jaw. He chuckled as it whuffled him and patted it against its slender neck
- all Gipsy.
“Hey, Chuck.”
I have missed you!
“I’ve missed you too, sprog.”
Have you seen how large I’ve become? It raised its head, tail straightening and
wings extending.
Chuck laughed. “Yeah, couldn’t miss it. You’re nearly taller than me now.”
It shifted this way and that until it had felt Chuck had gotten an appropriate
measure of its physical accomplishments, then promptly went back to nuzzling
him. The scratch of its scales against his shirt and jacket making a faint
sawing sound. He stroked over its head, rubbing both hands over the crests of
its eyes the way Striker used to enjoy being petted before he’d gotten too
large for it to be managed. The dragonling’s head craned back, eyes closing in
delight.
“That’s a new one,” Jaz said with a smile, leaning into one hip. “Gonna have to
remember that.”
“Remind me to show you a few more. Dragonlings practically come equipped with
snooze buttons.”
“You’re shitting me!”
Bad words, sang the little dragon.
“Yeah, don’t tell Mako.”
Chuck smirked. “No, they really do. I can show you after we settle in. Speaking
of which, not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“We were deployed.”
His hands stilled and the dragonling made an unhappy noise, its body giving a
quiver of discontent. Chuck caught himself and began stroking again. “Your
dragon’s too young. It can’t even carry one of you yet, and it won’t be able to
for another year at least.”
“Yeah. Well, I should clarify. Mako was deployed. Me and Baby just came along
for the togetherness.”
Once paired and bonded, Rangers spent the rest of their lives together - or so
much had at least held true, as the eldest Rangers from the first Jaeger team
runs weren’t even grandparents yet. Not that many of them had children of their
own, but that was beside the point. They were all still very young, yet, their
bonds to one another were so deeply entwined Chuck had never seen a pair part
ways since the beginning of the program. And in the rare event that one died,
the other and their dragon still prefered the company of their fellows to the
rest of society. Not that Chuck could much blame them. It was hard to be
understood by people who saw dragons as breathing, specially weaponized organic
bombers. And those who didn’t see them as weapons inevitably considered them
pets - which was far less acceptable.
Even his father and uncle were not able to part ways for long. Though their
mutually exclusive timeshares - Uncle Scott keeping Lucky with him and Dad
splitting his attention between two dragons - had worked wonders for the
separation anxiety most Rangers had a tendency to suffer.
“How is that even possible?”
Mako is working Jaeger restoration while we wait for me to get big.
“Jaeger restoration?” he asked, brow quirked quizzically.
Jaz bit her lip, eyes casting sideways. Chuck instantly knew what the term
meant and just as immediately felt even more conflicted than he had prior to
their arrival.
“It’s no secret we’ve run low on able bodies,” she said. “Stacker figures it’s
only a matter of time before we’re forced to make a last stand. He wants to be
ready.”
“And he’s willing to drag people out of retirement to do it, huh?”
She shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”
He couldn’t tell from her tone whether or not she agreed, though he knew she’d
support Mako regardless. It was the conflict of interests that would prove the
most daunting. Jazmine’s own brothers had been forced to retire after
Knifehead. It had undoubtedly spared their lives, if changed the course of them
entirely.
Come to think of it, Chuck really had no idea what they’d been up to in the
last few months. He and Jazmine had kept in contact - they’d been friends
before the inexplicable entanglement with her brothers, and they’d remained
friends after - but he’d never asked after Yancy or Raleigh and she’d never
offered. It kept things civil, he supposed.
Chuck? the dragonling asked, head cocked to one side and observing him gravely.
“Yes, love?”
Do you know that your soul resonates with Gipsy’s Rangers’?
“Sweetheart, now’s not the time!” Jazmine cut in as gently as she was able.
“Yes,” Chuck sighed. “I’m aware.”
Oh, it replied in dismay. After a moment it added, I’d thought perhaps you had
not.
“What made you think that?”
If you know, why are you not together?
“That’s enough antagonizing Striker’s Ranger, dear.”
Chuck inhaled deeply, a little sharper than he’d been intending and released it
slowly through his nose. He could feel the sharp cut of a migraine starting up
behind his eyes. “Sometimes, even soul mates can’t make it work,” he explained,
rubbing at his eyes. “Excuse me. I haven’t slept since before Mutavore.”
It made a concerned clicking sound and nudged him gently in the shoulder, its
head stroking over his own in large sweeps that bumped over his shoulders on
either side. Rest! Rest! It urged. You must rest!
He opened his eyes and caught the briefest flash of the tail end of whatever
emotion had taken over Jazmine’s features. However, before he could think too
much on it, she smiled sweetly at him and the dragonling nudged his shoulder so
enthusiastically that he stumbled slightly. It promptly apologized and he
reassured it with one last pat to the nose that he was fine.
Striker was in a mood as Chuck wandered back over. He’d curled up nose and tail
in concentric half circles, and wings flat against him. They jutted slightly,
fore and aft, but he was comfortable. Chuck stepped right into him, climbing
over his foreleg and sliding beneath the curve of his neck. Striker didn’t even
open an eye. Chuck made himself comfortable, at home in the familiar embrace.
The warmth of Striker’s incendiary gland like a hot stone against his back.
Chuck closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep, in full suit.
He’d paid for it later. Upon waking, he groaned at the creak of his body as the
overheated elements of materials that clothed it protested being unset. He
stood and stripped right down to his tank and light underpants. He tossed his
armor out past the sleeping dragon, practice making it easy to miss his hulking
mass. It clattered noisily and woke Max who had been sleeping just beneath the
gap where Striker’s foreleg and the floor would never meet. It was his favorite
place to be, especially as he aged. The dog got up and shook himself out,
stretching almost lazily before happily following Chuck out and over to the
pile.
Chuck spared a few moments to stroke him and ruffle his ears before setting
himself back to his task. Max helped in his own way, picking up the pieces he
could, sitting beside the pieces he could not - as if Chuck was incapable of
seeing them and would lose track of them otherwise - and barking at any pieces
that had dropped free in the free throw.
By the time he’d finished, his armor was stowed and he was sweating. Proximity
and work had made him hot, and not even the nap could unwind his knotted
muscles from an extended stay in the harness. He removed his tank, stretching
as he did so and tossed it over one shoulder, dog tags jangling as they fell
back into place.
“Look who’s a big boy now.”
He stiffened reflexively, and it showed across his muscles, as his training
left very little to the imagination. “Raleigh,” he greeted evenly, not looking
at him.
Max barked in happiness and scurried across the distance. Raleigh crouched down
to pet him, smiling at him as he began to lick along his wrists and forearms
exuberantly. “Missed you too, boy,” he murmured, patting him on the head. “Been
a while,” he commented offhandedly.
“And seven Kaiju.”
“Thanks for that, by the way.”
Chuck turned to look at him, confused.
Raleigh patted Max on the head and stood. “It’s something people forget,” he
replied with a half shrug. “To thank you for your service. You sacrifice
everything you are every time you go out there and no one ever says thank you.
So, thank you.”
He blinked. “I-...Thank you.”
Raleigh smiled. “You’re supposed to say ‘You’re Welcome’.”
Chuck folded his arms. “I’m not going to say that to someone who was killing
Kaiju to pave the way for me to do the same.”
“Still stubborn as ever,” he sighed.
The younger Ranger bristled.
Raleigh dusted his hands on his pants and looked over Chuck’s shoulder at
Striker. “Is he alright?”
Chuck sighed. “He’s just tired. We’re all just really tired. It was a long-”
His eyes widened as Raleigh’s mouth crashed against his. He hadn’t even
registered the blond moving. Had dropped his guard. One minute Raleigh was
standing in front of him, and the next-
The American drew back, releasing Chuck’s lips with a soft sound of
displacement. “Sorry,” he said casually. “I only agreed to behave for five
years. Mostly because it was necessary, but after...Chuck?” He leaned in,
observing the dark flush that had swept across the Australian’s skin. He
frowned slightly, head tilting as he observed him. And then realization dawned
and his eyes widened. “Fuck, was that your first kiss?!”
Chuck dropped a hand over his mouth in surprise.
“Jesus, Chuck! I’m sorry! I-” He paused suddenly, blinked, and then said
hesitantly, “You waited.”
Chuck pushed past him, or tried to. Because the moment he did, bumping the
blond with his shoulder, Raleigh laughed happily and caught his wrist, turning
him around.
“Chuck...Chuck, look at me.” His head dipped, trying to catch Chuck’s gaze.
“Hey…” His voice gentled, as did his touch and he reached up to stroke the side
of Chuck’s face, thumb tracing the outline of Chuck’s lower lip. “I’m sorry,”
he said again, quietly. “If I’d have known…” He heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t
have assumed, but...God, Chuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell has
no-one-...” He caught himself and wrapped both arms about Chuck’s middle,
drawing him close. “I like that no-one’s been able to touch you. Did you hit
people?”
Chuck made a scoffing sound.
“Come on...how many people did you have to slug for wanting you?”
He squirmed in Raleigh’s embrace, but didn’t put up any real effort into trying
to escape. Raleigh had caught him by the heartstrings, where he was most
vulnerable. “Christ, Raleigh,” he complained. “Shut up!”
Raleigh’s grin only widened and he leaned in close enough that their lips were
a vowel apart and they could feel one another’s exhales against their skin.
“Make me.”
Chuck had never kissed anyone and had never allowed anyone to kiss him, not
even to do so by taking him by surprise - most recent incident excluded. He’d
wanted to be kissed. Wanted to feel the brush of someone else’s lips to his.
And the press of their bodies. To know what it felt like when he was so
completely into a person that the merest brush of skin to skin had him
shivering and hot all over, consumed by need and passion. He’d dreamt of it.
He’d fantasized about it. But he’d never allowed it of anyone in all the years
he’d been wandering the world. Because it couldn’t mean anything, wouldn’t have
the effect he so desired if it were anyone but Yancy or Raleigh.
He chewed his bottom lip in thought, trying to figure out the logistics with
Raleigh so close.
“You’re thinking too much,” the blond murmured, fingers stroking the small of
Chuck’s back so sweetly he felt a moan rising. “If you want to kiss me, Chuck,
just kiss me.” He sounded breathless. He sounded hungry. The way Chuck felt
inside all the damn time.
“I don’t-”
“I do. I’ll adjust. Fuck, Chuck...just, kiss me!”
Chuck kissed him. It wasn’t anything fancy. No amount of observing could
prepare you for what it was like to be so close to someone. There was suddenly
so much to think about, and nothing at all was processing. He was kissing
Raleigh. And Raleigh was kissing back.
He kept it chaste, almost reverent for as long as he could stand, Chuck could
tell. With a groan, Raleigh’s mouth opened, tongue peeking out. The first sweep
of it to his lips had him reflexively opening his own. The moment Raleigh’s
tongue met his…
He gripped the blond tightly, hips arching up against him. Raleigh staggered
back a step, as if unprepared for that sudden leap of logic, but regained his
footing. Chuck gasped as the American bent slightly and hooked Chuck up by the
knees, drawing his legs about him and securing his hands over his ass as soon
as Chuck had locked his ankles. He walked back, turned, and then Chuck’s back
was pressed against a concrete wall. Raleigh’s mouth tore from his and
resettled lower, zeroing in on his neck. Chuck’s hands fisted in Raleigh’s hair
at the sensations the other was causing and Raleigh groaned low, head arching
back into the hold before jerking forward again. It caused Chuck to
accidentally pull his hair, as he’d reflexively gripped him tighter and Raleigh
made a sound that went straight to Chuck’s cock.
“I’m sorry…” Raleigh rasped against his skin. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m so
fucking sorry, Chuck. Fuck, I love you so much…”
Chuck felt like his heart just might burst beneath the combined assault, but
then as suddenly as he’d started, Raleigh stopped. His face pressed against
Chuck’s chest almost apologetically. Chuck stroked back his hair, despite how
upending the entire last however many minutes had been. Raleigh was still
supporting all of his weight, but when Chuck tried to correct that, Raleigh
just grunted and pushed him closer into the wall. “I want you, Chuck…” he said,
voice muffled by Chuck’s skin. He swallowed and pressed a kiss over Chuck’s
pectoral, under which his heart was thundering. “I want you, but-”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
Raleigh stroked his sides in apology. “I’m not insulting you, Chuck.” He lifted
his head and pressed a gentle kiss against the curve of Chuck’s jaw, just below
his ear. “But if you hadn’t even been kissed…”
“Raleigh,” he replied, completely exasperated. “I want to!”
“I know...I know you do. But, I’m not taking you here ten feet from your dragon
against a wall behind a stabilizing pillar in the hangar. I want to sprawl you
out on a bed and take my time. Learn all your secrets and listen to you moan.”
Chuck shivered.
“And Yancy would kill us both if we gunned this. Especially without him.” He
kissed Chuck again, long and sweet. Then ruined it entirely by rocking his
hips. The strain of his erection met Chuck’s and Chuck almost told him none of
that was important just then. But he was right of course. And they owed it to
Yancy.
“I would love to blow you right here, but…”
Chuck swallowed thickly, pulse jumping and cock throbbing at the thought.
“I got the first kiss. Yancy should get the first taste.”
He was murmuring, words pressing into Chuck’s skin and sliding over it in extra
caresses. Their eyes never leaving one another, and Raleigh’s hands everywhere.
“Where’s your goddamn brother, Becket?” Chuck growled. “We passed five years
months ago!”
“You should-”
“If you finish that sentence, I am going to hurt you.”
Raleigh laughed. He leaned in and nuzzled him and it felt so goddamn good
Chuck’s toes curled in his boots.
“I can sleep after the sex.”
His comment only made the younger Becket laugh harder. “Christ, you haven’t
changed.” He rubbed their noses together. “You should probably report in first
at any rate.”
“You expect me to report in in this state?!”
“We at least need to know if you’re going to be on call.”
“We can figure that out later!”
“Chuck...do you want a cock up your ass?” He asked it so bluntly that Chuck was
startled and for a moment at a complete loss as to how to respond. “Thought as
much,” he went on, smugly. “Gonna have to check with the Marshall first, Chuck.
Because, when we’re through with you, you’re not going to be able to ride for a
week.”
He thought about the ramifications of it, but was jarred from his mental
calculations by Raleigh laughing even more loudly. “Fuck, I love you,” he said,
leaning in to kiss Chuck again. “We’ve missed you so damn much.”
Chuck closed his eyes, their brows pressed together. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Good thing all bets are off,” the blond commented, nosing him playfully.
“Six years.”
Raleigh smirked, kissed him one last time and set his feet back to the floor.
“Let’s go find Yancy.”
Chuck was on call for the duration of his stay without so much as a weekend's
leave available. It was the most frustrating, infuriating, cock blocking orders
of his career. With a kaiju attack predicted within the week - if not sooner -
all of Chuck's time was to be devoted to a state of constant readiness. Despite
the number of rehabilitated Jaegers returned to the program, they were down to
three serviceable dragons, and four on standby. Of which Striker was the
pinnacle example and forerunner of any attacks. They were in for a long week.
Still, Raleigh had assured him that just because they couldn’t explore as
deeply as he wanted to, they could still stay together. In truth, the offer was
one Chuck had always longed to hear, and the only place he’d rather be outside
of the dragon pens.
“Nice lay out,” he commented, taking in the altered room. Generally, twinned
rooms went up instead of out to conserve space. And even then, most of the
Shatterdome was at last six people to a room. With the exception of the
officers, Rangers and the Marshall himself, who had something of a loft layout.
The height of Shatterdome luxury. It was still concrete, metal, glass and
paint, but it was roomier. Chuck had been to the Marshall’s quarters enough to
know it wasn’t any more comfortable than what anyone else had, despite its
additional square footage, and something about that made him proud of the man
his father was in love with. If anyone was to take the place of his mother in
his father’s life, Chuck was glad it was someone like Stacker.
The Beckets room had the usual twin everything, the bedrests carved out of
stone and concrete. Which would keep them cool all year round, regardless of
their own personal desires. The mattresses had been pulled off the outcroppings
however, and settled in the center of the room on the floor. The area used for
seating and storage instead. Chuck wondered at the way they were pushed
together though.
“The Icebox is still home, but…” Raleigh shrugged. “It’s not the worst we could
have gotten.”
He was referring of course to their vague status. Not exactly on duty, not
entirely off. It was a difficult adjustment for everyone to make. Torn between
which rank to follow, former or renewed.
“A Ranger is a Ranger,” he replied. “No reason you should get any less than you
deserve.”
The corner of Raleigh’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, and not entirely in
amusement. It was a fond, intimate gesture Chuck wasn’t entirely sure the other
Ranger was aware existed within himself.
They had, in fact, been given Rangers quarters, Chuck noted with some relief. A
private bathroom and a small, out of the way kitchenette with a sink, fridge,
cabinet space, and a hotplate and coffeemaker plugged into the only outlets.
Because of the nature of a Ranger’s lifestyle and the accelerated stress they
undertook, every care was taken to ensure they had a quiet, private place they
could retreat to when need be. The PPDC prefered breakdowns to happen out of
sight, where morale wouldn’t be affected, and reporters couldn’t catch wind of
the barest traces of troublesome news.
Civilians weren’t allowed within them, not even for the promised distraction of
private, intimate company. So it had become the holy grail of every Jaegerfly
in existence. As far as Chuck was aware, the unspoken understanding had never
once been breached. However, that didn’t mean the private quarters never saw
their fair share of sexual escapades. There was no anti-fraternization policy
in place within the Shatterdomes, though some argued there ought likely to be.
Most, however, had exposure to Shatterdome life and society and understood how
integral the chance to blow off steam unhindered by duty could be for all
within it.
As the foremost accomplished Ranger, and the youngest, Chuck had a list as long
as his dragon of propositions, invitations, and flirtatious offers. But, he’d
never felt right about any of them. Even while he and the Beckets had been
estranged, it had felt like cheating and the feeling of discomfort within
himself was something Chuck had never enjoyed. He’d turned down every last one
and had strangely felt better every time. Even if he was left with only his
hand for company.
“Bit of a drop,” he commented, in reference to the bed.
“Yancy and I...we started sleeping together after Knifehead. The nightmares…”
Chuck held in the sigh. He’d wished he could be with them, but he’d been a full
Ranger by then and once recovered had been deployed, a kill already on record
and solo on top of which - his reputation had preceded him. He was still trying
to catch up with it.
“Sleeping and...well, sleeping,” Raleigh finished, avoiding looking at him.
Chuck’s brows rose of their own accord. “Really?”
Raleigh nodded doggedly.
“That’s so...hot.”
The blond’s head bounced up in surprise, eyes searching.
Chuck just grinned at him. “Honestly, Raleigh, did you think I’d have something
against it?” He laughed softly. “I’ve wanted you as long as I can remember. The
both of you. You can’t tell me you never expected-”
They both turned as the bathroom door opened and Yancy trudged into the room.
His head was down and he was rubbing at the back of his neck. There was a towel
about his middle - for reasons Chuck really couldn’t explain given what he knew
of the Beckets and his own preferences - and his own scars stood out darkly
against his skin. Every here and there a small patchwork of grooves from where
his armor had crushed his arm within the depths of oceanic rock. Raleigh was
wearing a sweater, so Chuck couldn’t see his as well, and it made for an odd
contrast. He didn’t particularly enjoy it and thought to rectify it at his
earliest opportunity.
“Yance,” Raleigh said, his brother’s name full of emotion, but lacking
direction for further speech.
Yancy looked up, face shifting slightly. “You saw him.”
Raleigh nodded.
“How was he? Did you speak to him? Is he angry?”
“He’s good.” He exhaled and raked a hand through his hair in a manner that was
very much a show of restrained desire than anything else. “Fuck, Yance, he’s so
goddamn beautiful...up close…” He shook his head, eyes closing for a moment.
“There’s no comparison. None of the coverage of him does him justice at all.”
The corner of his mouth quirked playfully. “Caught him stripping out of
gear...the muscles on him…”
Yancy groaned, head rocking back as if he’d rather not imagine it.
“Our boy’s all grown up.”
“Did you talk to him?” Yancy pressed.
“A little.”
“And?”
“And then I kissed him.”
Raleigh’s cheerful smile grew slowly as Yancy stared at him in surprise. When
the younger Becket gave no further information, Yancy asked exasperatedly,
“And?”
“I kissed him back.”
Yancy jolted as if he’d been stuck with a cattle prod. He turned so quickly the
towel lost purchase and slid down his legs, dropping to a silent heap on the
concrete floor.
Chuck held Yancy’s gaze, before slowly letting his eyes wander down.
“It was his first kiss,” Raleigh husked, leaning in behind him to speak into
his ear.
Yancy’s body wasted no time in reacting to the information, and while his eyes
remained on Chuck, other parts of him rose to meet Chuck’s own gaze.
He smirked, not wanting to look away, but too eager to let it go by. Eyes
springing back up to meet the elder Becket’s gaze again. He lifted his chin.
“Raleigh says you get first taste.”
Yancy choked.
“Only fair.”
Raleigh slid his arms about Yancy, pressing against his back. “He’s here,” he
murmured, husky and lustful.
“He’s here,” Yancy agreed, mind still stalled as he made no move toward Chuck.
“He’s here,” Chuck reassured the pair of them. “And his arms are empty.”
His response seemed to jumpstart Yancy - or maybe it was the firm hold Raleigh
had taken around his dick - because he held out his arms and said, “Then he’d
better get a move on or he’s going to miss out.”
Chuck crossed the distance in two strides, and before he’d even entered the
sphere of Yancy’s embrace, he was being kissed. Yancy didn’t kiss the way
Raleigh did. Raleigh’s kiss was a game of give and take. Sparking and being
sparked, electricity shared between two people. Yancy’s kiss was a living
thing, all deep and soulful. Searching and tender, considerate and loving, even
as he gripped Chuck by the base of his head and plundered his mouth.
“Six. Years,” Chuck panted when Yancy had given him a moment to catch his
breath.
Hands were already working at Chuck’s pants.
“He’s really stuck on that,” Raleigh commented. “I think we better make it up
to him, Yance.”
For emphasis, he tugged Chuck’s pants open and both Beckets groaned aloud.
“Commando, Chuck? Really?”
“More comfortable to travel long distances in my suit,” he replied, voice
losing strength as four hands reached in after him, stroking reverently.
“Less…friction…” He gasped, hips rocking forward into their embrace.
“First taste?” Yancy asked.
“Yu-up,” Raleigh replied, drawing out the vowel.
Yancy dropped to his knees and Chuck was wholly unprepared as his pants were
yanked to his knees. He fought not to squirm as Yancy stared at him, bared and
aroused and aching. The blond’s hands curled about Chuck’s hips and he rested
his brow against one, mouth close but unmoving, as he inhaled deeply.
Raleigh swallowed the whine that bubbled up Chuck’s throat, moving to press
their brows together and rocking their heads so they could both look down.
Yancy shifted and pressed a sweet kiss to the head of Chuck’s cock, just
slightly off center, and Chuck felt lightning jolt up his spine. Raleigh
stroked his arms, mouth opening in mirror as Yancy adjusted himself and drew
Chuck into his mouth. All. The. Way.
It was slow and tortuous and Chuck clenched his jaw together to keep from
spilling every filthy profanity he’d collected over his lifelong tour of the
‘Domes. Yancy’s tongue undulated against the underside as he welcomed him into
wet heat and the tight embrace of his throat.
“Fuck!” Chuck gasped, rocking forward onto his toes.
Yancy’s hands caught against his hips once more and eased him back, throat
constricting in a small gag at the sudden movement.
“Ah...fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
Raleigh slid around to press against his back, kissing over his shoulders.
Chuck had been forced to put his tank back on, and the blond moved it aside to
bite down over one shoulder as Yancy drew back slowly and plunged back down.
Chuck’s body jerked in pleasure, hands closing about whatever was in range. One
clenching in Raleigh’s pants and the other scrabbling for purchase over Yancy’s
hair, fingertips twitching against his scalp. Yancy moaned in approval and the
sound nearly undid him.
“Careful, Yance,” Raleigh murmured sweetly, against Chuck’s skin. “Baby’s still
a virgin.”
Yancy moaned even deeper and Chuck’s hips all but vibrated in his hold as he
desperately tried to contain himself. Yancy nudged his legs apart and clutched
his ass, spreading him open wide. Raleigh chuckled as he removed Chuck’s tank
and tossed it aside. “Always in a hurry,” he commented, pressing a kiss to
Chuck’s nape. His mouth trailed all down Chuck’s spine in a lazy, unhurried
mapping of muscle and sinew until he was level with Yancy. Their fingers laced
- Chuck could feel it against his skin - and with a moan of pleasure, Raleigh
leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against the exposed whorl.
Yancy gave a sharp suck, nearly painful in it’s intensity and Chuck inhaled in
a rush, only to choke on a gasp as Raleigh’s tongue flicked against his hole.
His arm flailed back behind him, hand fisting in the blond’s hair.
“Yeah, Chuck…” Raleigh rasped, voice deep with want. “Hold on for me, okay?”
His tongue wiggled against him. “Have to catch up…” He gave a suck as Yancy’s
mouth strained over Chuck, tongue pushing about the base of his cock as best it
could manage with a mouthful. Raleigh worked him open with his tongue, Yancy
halting any chance of release with a sharp, punishing suck whenever Chuck got
too close. Soon, he was clutching them, a hand fisted in equally sunny shades
of blond as his hips bucked in earnest, trying to absorb every last measure of
pleasure they were doling out. Raleigh’d gotten him loose enough to spear him,
and his tongue was undergoing enthusiastic acrobatic motions deep inside of
him.
Chuck could barely keep his balance, pushed to his toes and caught between
strong hands and eager mouths. He held on as best he could, unable to think
beyond ‘more’ and ‘yes’ and ‘please’. All of which he gasped out at the ceiling
in less and less articulate outbursts as he was drawn close and denied, closer
and again. Fingers stroked along his balls, wet with spit and oversensitive. He
tried to warn them, nerves alight and muscles taut, but nothing but strangled
noises made it free of him.
He didn’t know if they were aware, or if it was entirely chance, but they were
both on him as deeply as they could manage when he came. Spilling hot and
endless down Yancy’s eager throat, Raleigh’s tongue buried deep, curved and
holding. He collapsed, boneless and spent, caught in waiting arms and
sandwiched between them in an entirely new way.
Yancy kissed him, lazy and indulgent, coaxing Chuck’s tongue into his mouth to
explore. He could taste himself, but it was different, mixed as it was with
Yancy’s own. Raleigh brushed a hand featherlight over his hip and thigh and
Chuck quivered. The younger Becket’s tongue flicking a deliberately drawn lick
against the back of his ear.
“Maybe we should move to the bed,” he suggested, between kisses down the side
of Chuck’s neck.
Yancy hummed in agreement, the sound traveling from his skin to Chuck’s.
Chuck knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get up. Luckily,
two sets of arms wrapped around him and helped him to his feet. They crab
walked, hands everywhere, mouths always connected to some part of his body, and
eased back before dropping completely into the joined mattresses.
“Stay,” Yancy urged, with just a hint of a plead.
He nodded sluggishly and was rewarded by two bodies twining with his and the
covers drawn high over them.
“But-” he protested weakly.
“Later,” Yancy told him.
“Plenty of time,” Raleigh agreed.
As much as Chuck wanted to disagree, what strength was left in his limbs was
sapped by the press of Yancy and Raleigh, the loving, joyful strokes of their
hands in long, lulling sweeps. Any argument he may have attempted died a swift
death and was carried under with him.
Raleigh chuckled from where he was sprawled across the bed, watching Chuck
wiggling back into his pants. “Going to be a while before you get used to it,”
he commented as Chuck shifted his hips around, trying to normalize.
“Maybe you should stop eating him out so thoroughly,” Yancy suggested, from
where he leaned in the doorframe sipping coffee. He laughed quietly as both
looked to him. Chuck didn’t know what Raleigh’s face looked like, but he knew
his brooked no argument.
“Like hell,” he growled.
“Besides,” Raleigh countered. “Who started fingering him?”
Chuck’s eyes drifted closed on a shiver at the memory.
“Man has a right to know his prostate,” Yancy defended.
Raleigh snorted. “So thoroughly?” he shot back, in that way of younger siblings
everywhere.
Yancy just saluted him with his coffee and took another sip.
“Are either of you going to let me try and reciprocate?” Chuck sighed,
buttoning up.
“You complaining?” Raleigh teased.
Despite himself - and the last three days of intro to sex with hot brothers 101
- Chuck could still feel the flush rise and consume him.
“Oh Jesus,” Yancy groaned. “Chuck, if you want to make your ride, you better
leave right now.” He tossed his boots at him and while Chuck caught them, he
made no move to do as requested.
“And why is that?” he asked, knowing perfectly well and delighting in the
ability to torment them a little.
“Because if you don’t, I’m tackling you into that octopus and we’ll all be
court martialed by lunch.”
For effect, Raleigh leaned forward and pawed at Chuck’s ankles.
“I’ll put them on and leave. I’ll even make it to call on time. IF you let me
tie you up tonight.”
“Is he serious?” Raleigh gasped. With Chuck’s back to him, the younger Becket
couldn’t see his face, but looking at Yancy’s was all he needed in answer. “Oh
fuck...”
“Tie you up and let me have my way with you.”
“He’s serious,” Yancy responded belatedly, with a dry swallow.
“Both of you.”
“Oh ho, I like this kid,” Raleigh commented. “We should keep him.”
“All right,” Yancy replied, raising his chin to meet the challenge. “Deal. But,
only if you’re out of here in three-”
“That is cold, Yance!”
“Two.”
“Jesus, Chuck! Move your ass!”
Chuck grabbed Yancy by his sleep tank and hauled him into a kiss, forestalling
the countdown. Turning, he ducked and drew Raleigh into a kiss by a hand to the
back of his head, raised his boots in triumph and darted out the door.
Yancy pointedly waited for him to be clear before finishing. “One. That little
punk!”
Raleigh’s laughter carried all the way to the elevator.
Striker’s head lowered, his nose pressing against Chuck’s chest and inhaling.
He rumbled in approval, and nosed Chuck below the jaw. He’d taken to greeting
Chuck with more and more approval since he, Yancy and Raleigh had fallen in
together. They still hadn’t much talked, more, taken advantage of the thrill of
being together again, and for real now. They would need to do so eventually,
Chuck knew. There was far too much left unsaid, and even more unknown. But, for
now, he was loathe to ruin the harmony and he suspected so were they. Unless
something crucial came up, he doubted they’d get around to it anytime soon. If
at all.
I am glad you’re so happy, Chuck, Striker told him mind to mind.
“I am,” he agreed with a grin, patting Striker’s nose.
Max barked and Striker’s head lowered the better to receive the affectionate
licks Max doled out indiscriminately. Chuck crouched down to scrub at his
sides. He’d been spending a lot of time with Dad, holed up in LOCCENT or
Stacker’s office and his private quarters. Spending time with Uncle Scott and
Lucky, with Stacker himself, with Striker, but he’d seen little of Chuck of
late. Most had as he’d taken to spending all his free time seducing the Becket
brothers into acts of every kind of carnal pleasure.
You are thinking about them.
“How can you tell?” he asked, looking up with a smile.
The desire thickens.
Chuck coughed to cover the choke and Striker made an amused rumbling noise. He
stretched, angling his body to maximize the movement.
Shall we leave now? I’d like to return and spend some time with the youngling
when they arrive post rounds.
He grinned. Mako may be the only one on active duty for the moment, but Jazmine
and their dragonling - in true bonded Ranger showing - had taken to making
rounds wherein they dropped in on Mako to harass her at work (Jazmine) and seek
the lack of affection otherwise felt in her absence (their dragonling). It was
a necessity, and thus both unquestioned and tolerated - if not outright
endured, where Jazmine was concerned - though Mako did her best to keep as much
semblance of order as could be maintained given her circumstances and bonds.
They used the single harness which was lighter and better streamlined for solo
flight. It consisted of a modified saddle that fit comfortably against the base
of the dragon’s neck, and tucked behind the shoulders and just below the wings
for added security. Chuck didn’t bother with any gear. His jacket was warm
enough, and he enjoyed feeling the flow of air when he could. There was
something about flying with a dragon for nothing more than the simple joy of
flying, and Chuck had long ago been hopelessly lost to it.
They didn’t patrol so much as head west and circle back. Striker’s wings
beating strong and hard to carry them up and guide them about in what was at
first a leisurely exercise, which rapidly disintegrated into an all out aerial
show. Chuck was safely locked in, at the waist and feet, thighs tucked close to
the leather seat. He kept low, raising himself when necessary and leaning into
turns with the practiced ease of a fully acclimated Ranger - a person lost to
dragon society forever, and happily so. More extensions of dragons themselves
than individuals of any race, class, sex or other distinction which humans
found important and dragons did not.
They were enjoying themselves. At ease in the shared company and their
familiarity with one another. Which was how the Kaiju got the drop on them. One
moment, there was nothing but sea and sky and the next they were tumbling
sideways. A large, winged Kaiju had sprung from the sea and collided with them,
throwing them wildly off course. Chuck very nearly unseated and clung to the
handgrips at either side of the saddlehorn he’d never before had need for.
Striker roared, fangs and claws grappling instinctively. They rolled several
times, the Kaiju trying to force Striker into the water. Chuck wasn’t suited
and thus wasn’t protected, and as locked in as he was, if they went down and
under, he’d drown in minutes - trapped and quickly drawn to pressure depths
that would burst capillaries. Dragons could swim, and all PPDC dragons were
given special care, attention and training to ensure they knew how to handle
themselves in the event of a submergence. But, underwater was not where dragons
were at their best, or most comfortable, and too long, without a Ranger to calm
and direct them, and even they could drown. Instinct taking over and forcing
them to fight, instead of calm and reroute resources.
At the moment, Chuck was more hostage than helpful, as the Kaiju tried to kill
him and Striker tried to protect him. Losing track of everything but keeping
Chuck alive and safe. Chuck tried calling to him, appealing to him, but Striker
was caught in an instinct and without his dad to help, Chuck couldn’t get the
dragon to listen, let alone respond.
They didn’t have any gear. No equipment. Chuck couldn’t help Striker any more
than holding on so the dragon wouldn’t be forced to enter a dangerous - and
likely deadly to both of them - dive to catch him if he fell. With a great
roar, Striker’s jaws spread wide and he spewed molten sludge. The Kaiju
screeched in agony and Chuck rose from his seat, tightened his grip and
screamed, “AERIE!!”
Striker broke away and dove, wings beating frantically at the code. When
dragons fell prey to their own base instincts it was very difficult to get them
to come back ‘round. It took time and energy they simply did not have. In such
an event, with their backs to the walls and the knowledge of the possibility of
back up in the form of other Jaeger teams, Rangers and their dragons were
trained with a single coded command: Aerie. It spoke to the dragons even on an
instinctual level, the safety of numbers and higher ground. For the Rangers, it
was a simple, easily recalled and issued command that brought a sense of peace
and the promise of reinforcement.
They were the fastest team in the PPDC, yet the Kaiju was on them again, riding
the air currents that trailed in Striker’s wake. Chuck looked over his shoulder
and threw his whole body sideways as the Kaiju spat a glowing, viscous liquid
at them. Striker banked hard in the same direction and they rolled several
times before leveling out. The Kaiju couldn’t turn as quickly, but it barely
had a chance before Lucky and Gipsy were on it. They were missing their
Rangers, having come to their aid out of instinct, and the connections dragons
shared with their family groups. Chuck and Striker turned about, despite the
pair of females protests they continue on and armor up. They wouldn’t leave
their family - slower and in endless states of recuperation - to handle the
Kaiju alone. Lucky and Gipsy rallied, each grabbing the Kaiju by a wing and
tearing sideways. It let out an unbearably high pitched scream, which left it
in the perfect position to swallow a plasma burst. Striker didn’t stop at the
expulsion, jaws clamping about its neck and tugging.
Between the three dragons, they tore the Kaiju apart, letting the pieces fall
to the ocean below in large hunks that spurted neon blue all the way down.
Together again, and of like mind, the trio flew off, in a V shape to protect
Chuck and one another.
By the time they made it back, alarms were sounding and people were running
from everywhere, scrambling in readiness. Striker landed hard, and Chuck’s
stomach caught the saddle. He slumped over, winded.
“CHUCK!!” cried several voices.
Striker roared, wings flaring and fangs bared. When he settled again, only his
tail touched the ground, long neck extended, head high to observe everything
around him. His father and both Beckets ran clear up Striker’s tail, with the
nimble grace of practice and familiarity. Yancy and Raleigh had never been up
before, but they navigated it surprisingly well, only a few steps behind his
father, who dropped down behind him and aligned their bodies.
“Shh...Chuck,” he soothed, laying his head atop his son’s. “Let go, son. It’s
okay, let go.” His hands closed over Chuck’s gently, bringing Chuck’s attention
to the fact that he’d been so caught up in keeping Striker from rabbiting that
he’d fallen into it himself. Had let Striker sweep him up in instinct and
desperation. His muscles tense and spasming slightly with how closely clenched
they were to keep him small and positioned.
Hands smoothed over his thighs, two to each side as Yancy and Raleigh eased
themselves down and into his line of sight.
“Chuck,” Yancy murmured, a hand freeing itself from his thigh to cup his face,
thumb stroking his cheek softly. The elder Becket leaned in and kissed him. It
was a moment or two before Chuck responded, and when he did it was slowly. But,
Yancy was used to leading and Chuck followed in full trust, and soon they were
actively kissing.
A hand pressed to his chest, and Yancy drew back as Chuck turned his head and
Raleigh leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss was more eager, slightly tinged with
desperation and relief. “Come on, baby,” Raleigh murmured, rubbing his arm.
“You’re safe now.”
“We’ve got you,” Yancy assured him.
Together, they eased Chuck’s knees from their locked position, hands stroking
him, caressing, leading and teasing in small brushes and long, supportive
sweeps. He couldn’t feel his father against him anymore, but he could still
feel him at his back - their connection strong. They eased him up, slow and
steady, sandwiching him between them protectively. Gentling him, seducing him
until he was up, legs shaking and footing unsteady, even after years of
confident handling.
His father held back, followed at a pace as Yancy and Raleigh slid slowly down
Striker’s tail, Chuck in tow. Generally, Rangers took the motion quickly and
efficiently, leaning in and riding the natural contours until they reached the
tip. But with Chuck shaken and in some measure of shock, they went as slowly as
they could to keep both him and Striker calm. The dragon watching anxiously,
head atop Gipsy’s, where she nuzzled him supportively, side pressed to Lucky’s.
“Can he ride?” Tendo asked, with an apologetic look. “We need Striker out
there. Marshall’s orders.”
“I can ride,” Chuck assured them, before either of his lovers, or his father
could respond. The three of them looked at one another, and then the brothers
nodded and hauled him off, one arm about each of them and leaning heavily into
them to brace against uncoordinated limbs.
“Striker!” he heard his father call, voice coaxing but infused with command.
“Come on, we need to saddle up.” He could hear the heavy sound of the sure pat
of a loving hand to dragon hide.
“I’m fine,” he assured, though neither had asked.
“No, you aren’t,” Raleigh replied, voice tight.
“But you will be,” Yancy finished, pushing open the locker room door.
They sat him down on a bench against his protests and eased into removing his
clothes. They did it leisurely, kissing him, hands moving with the unhurried,
methodical actions of lovers. Chuck closed his eyes, leaning back into
Raleigh’s strength as Yancy kissed down his belly. Raleigh mouthed his neck,
hands trailing up and down his arms warmly. His head fell back over Raleigh’s
shoulder, hands curling in Yancy’s soft blond hair.
Yancy settled between his legs, spreading Chuck’s knees wide. Raleigh slid
against his back, knees pressed to the bench on either side of him as his hands
slid down and around, smoothing down his front and over his hips. Chuck dropped
back, bracing his hands against the treated wood on either side of Raleigh’s
thighs. Yancy blew against the head of his cock and Chuck’s body jolted,
arching up into the attention.
Raleigh slipped free of him, pausing a moment, hands to his shoulders to ensure
he could support his own weight, before moving around him to join Yancy. Chuck
groaned loudly as their mouths came into contact with his cock. Lips, tongues
and teeth teasing his body into an inferno of want and need. Neither took him
into their mouth, neither mouth did more than sweep gently but determinedly by
across the head. He cursed, dropping back onto his forearms and raising his
hips. They continued to bypass it, fluctuating from alternating movement on
either side of his hard flesh, and working in perfect tandem. The new angle
allowed them access to his hole, and they both abandoned his cock entirely to
race one another across his balls and perineum toward it. His cock met nothing
but air as he thrust up sharply, needing friction, needing tight heat, and
getting none of it. Yancy hooked his arms about Chuck’s hips, hauling his lower
half up so he could bury his face in his ass. Raleigh stepped around then, and
took Chuck’s cock into his mouth. For the second time that afternoon, Chuck
could only hold on, hands gripping Raleigh’s thighs. The position sent all the
blood to his head, to accompany the sensations the brothers were eliciting.
Pleasure spiraling in wild swaths as they surged forth, pooling in his skull.
They were so distracted, they hadn’t quite taken their positions into
consideration, or perhaps hadn’t thought Chuck would be so opportunistically
inclined. So involved in caring for him, neither paid much attention to where
his hands ended up, or what they did there. Raleigh hissed as Chuck’s hand drew
him free and his mouth closed about him, body jerking. He released Chuck’s cock
with a soft pop and gripped his sides. “Ahh...Chuck...don’t…” But he leaned
into the attention. Yancy pulled away to look, groaned, and then magnanimously
rearranged them. Lowering Chuck so he could lay against the bench and avoid the
head rush.
“Let him, Rals,” was all he said, before tugging Chuck toward him and drawing
his knees to his chest by means of positioning his thighs. He went back to his
attention, and Raleigh kicked out of one leg of his pants and straddled the
bench so Chuck could have his fill.
“How are you so good at this?” he panted, hands dropping to the bench on either
side of Chuck as his knees gave out. Chuck smirked around his mouthful, angled
his head and deep throated him. “FUCK!”
His outburst startled Yancy, who shifted his weight to look around at them. “Oh
God, Rals, you should see this.”
Raleigh’s body trembled above him. “You should feel this,” he responded,
breathless.
Yancy smirked. “You little shit,” he accused with a laugh. “You fucking
practiced!”
“God!” Raleigh exclaimed, in realization. “Chuck….Chuck...I can’t…”
Chuck swatted him on the ass playfully, holding Yancy’s gaze as best he could.
Watched his eyes darken further as lust swelled within him. Raleigh needed no
further explanation. Settling his weight, he began to thrust. Chuck did his
best to hold still, this part at least new to him. When he’d first learned that
his interest in the Beckets was returned, and after they’d decided to wait five
years before trying, he’d decided those five years would be in his benefit.
Yancy and Raleigh were beautiful, confident, sexual creatures, whom he had had
no such fantasies about maintaining any innocence.
He’d been young but determined and had promptly set out to train himself. He
was as ruthless in his sexual training as he had been in his Jaeger training,
with the same singular self-sufficiency. He didn’t want, nor did he actively
encourage or seek out others to engage in sexual acts. He did however, watch a
lot of whatever he could get his hands on. He read manuals and guides, joined a
few forums, and in secret, snuck out and purchased a few sex toys. He hadn’t
known how large either Becket was, so over the years he had collected a fair
range of lengths and girths. He’d been a teenage boy, and even wanting them to
be his first experience, couldn’t contain the desire to engage in fantasies. A
good deal of his free time was spent in his room, practicing how to suck cock,
developing techniques which he’d based entirely on trial and error as well as
what he’d learned from others and the books. He hadn’t had feedback, for more
than a few times, when he uploaded his cyber toys and linked in to a few random
strangers on the net. He hadn’t known anything about them and they’d known
nothing about him. He’d stubbornly maintained a curtain of silence, which
worked for several of his cyber partners. It had been a necessary evil in his
mind, and not cheating as long as he only touched the toys and kept radio
silence. Their input and feedback had helped him perfect a technique he was
comfortable with, and once his skills were pronounced across the board, had cut
all connections and returned to practicing on toys alone.
He’d slowly, methodically worked through all his fantasies until he could take
two dildos up his ass. It never worked out well when he had to use all his
resources to keep them in. Contorted in odd positions, hands clutching the
edges to keep them inside, let alone positioned. It had rarely worked for him -
too distracted by the effort to enjoy the results - but when it did, he’d
always left himself a panting, twitching mess. And had always lain in bed and
thought of how it would feel to come and be held. How much better it’d feel
when he wasn’t all scrunched up, arms straining and fingers cramping. When they
would move, when they’d be in control, and he would be free to enjoy himself.
He’d been planning to surprise them for his eighteenth birthday, but-
“Chuck! Chuck! Oh, fuck...I’m gonna come!”
Yancy rocked forward and the brothers kissed. Raleigh gasping and making small
whining noises that Chuck thought might be words - or attempts at them - but
were too garbled to make sense of. The noises he was making spurned Yancy on,
arousing him further, and Chuck had to hold back a smile - so as not to lose
suction - when he heard Yancy undo his pants.
Yancy was larger than Raleigh, Chuck noted idly, as the elder Becket’s cock
aligned with his. Yancy had shoved his pants down, nearly toppling over as he
tugged a leg as free as he could - the opposite of Raleigh’s - and brought his
hips down to meet Chuck’s. Chuck moaned as Yancy’s hips made winding circles,
before pressing down and thrusting against him.
The first bangs to the door were drowned out by Raleigh’s cry as he came deep
in Chuck’s throat. The sensation was new and while expected, was unfamiliar and
Chuck struggled to swallow and not choke. Raleigh pushed himself up enough to
free himself from Chuck’s mouth in an attempt to save him. Chuck gasped and
swallowed, and kissed the inside of Raleigh’s thigh in thanks, hands sweeping
over his ass and wishing they had more time.
The next bangs were accompanied by a gruff voice. “Striker Eureka, suit up!”
Raleigh rolled over until he’d dropped free. The door was locked, but they had
very little time left. Yancy thrust against him in earnest and Chuck began to
meet his thrusts. They were so enthusiastic, they began to slide off the bench.
Chuck thought it might be worth it, but then the banging came again. “Ranger
Hansen!”
“He’ll be right out!” Yancy snapped.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up, pulling Chuck with him. He drew Chuck’s
legs about him, then moved to sit. It aligned them better, and Chuck leaned
back as far as he could, arms locked about Yancy’s neck and shoulders.
When he could feel himself getting close, he gripped Yancy by the hair and drew
their brows together. “I want you to come in my mouth,” he rasped.
“After...you…” he responded, and dragged Chuck into a rough kiss.
“Allow me,” Raleigh interrupted, slipping between them. He’d redressed, and had
stretched out over the bench so he could put his head in the space between
their abdomens. He lapped at them, toyed briefly with taking both in his mouth,
and otherwise pushed all the right buttons, just in time to catch Chuck’s load.
Chuck pushed himself up, slightly unsteady with the force of his release, and
dropped between Yancy’s spread legs, taking him into his mouth. He didn’t even
get a chance to do anything fancy. Yancy’s hands caught in his hair, he thrust
up to meet him, once, twice, and then exploded.
They sat there for a moment, the three of them, just taking it in.
“RANGER HANSEN!” came the shout, accompanied by a few more bangs.
Chuck groaned and pushed himself up. “I’m going to rip his arms from their
sockets,” he growled as he stood.
“Leave him to us,” Raleigh replied with a fond smile. He remained where he was,
leaning against Yancy. “You be careful out there.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, pulling on his pants. They were all he really needed, and
after kissing each of them deeply, opened the door and turned up his chin at
the soldier with his hand poised to interrupt again.
The soldier looked unapologetic, but slightly abashed after his eyes had
followed the obvious signs down Chuck’s form. From his messy hair to his
swollen lips, to the glistening trails of sweat and saliva over his bare chest.
He supposed Raleigh might have left a hickey or two, and his pants were
slightly askew. Chuck just grinned and swaggered off to get suited up.
His father said nothing as he locked in, though he did sigh. The Drift tended
to bring newer memories to the fore most prominently as they were fresh and as
yet unknown to the dragon. And as both Rangers experienced the same shared
information, it could be a little more informative than either would have
ordinarily engaged. Chuck just smiled at his father and tugged his helmet on.
Striker reared, roaring with full wings extended, and they were off.
Leatherback was enormous.
The Marshall had ordered Striker to hang back, while Cherno and Crimson
engaged, but even together, they struggled to subdue it. It was by far the
largest Kaiju Chuck had ever seen, and he was anxious over the prospect that
they might not be enough. Crimson was nimble, but she lacked bulk. And while
Cherno was strong, she wasn’t all together fast.
The Kaiju also had an advantage. Their K-Science division had informed them of
a hive mind mentality, which meant Leatherback knew all their strengths and
weaknesses, while they were left playing catch up, knowing essentially nothing
about it. Which it proved almost immediately by feigning an attack on Cherno,
and swiftly turning those jaws on Crimson instead when she and the Weis darted
in for an attack. Chuck felt his heart seize as those monstrous jaws clamped
about her. She was so lithe as to look fragile in its grip, and he feared she
might break under the weight of its jaws. But Cherno was ready for it and
slammed her clubbed tail into its head. It released Crimson who fluttered into
the sea, Rangers and all.
Leatherback turned, roaring right in Cherno’s face. She staggered sideways and
began to shake her head. He and his father looked to one another with like
frowns that deepened when Sasha said, “LOCCENT, we cannot communicate with
Cherno! Repeat, we have lost communication with Cherno!” Leatherback roared
again, stance widening aggressively. Cherno dipped further to one side, losing
enough altitude that when the Kaiju reared, she was in range. It lunged from
the water, and gripped her.
They could hear Sasha and Aleksis scream both through their comms, and from
across the water, as they were taken down. Cherno screeched in outrage, but was
too bulky to turn quickly enough, and even as she rolled, Chuck felt his
stomach seize.
“It’s killing them!” he appealed.
“Aww, screw this!” his father growled. “Striker Eureka moving out!”
They bore down on it, approaching it quickly enough that it released Cherno in
surprise. But as it whipped around, it opened its jaws wide.
“Striker! Hit it!” Chuck cried.
Striker released a stream of white hot flame - restrained due to the proximity
of a fallen Cherno - just as the Kaiju roared at them. Striker screeched,
flailing about. They cried out, trying to get him to respond, but he bucked
about wildly and had they not been strapped in, he might have thrown them
several miles.
“Striker!” they called.
But their dragon didn’t answer, simply thrashed more.
“LOCCENT! We’ve lost contact with Striker! Repeat, we’ve-”
The blast hit them, and they joined the dragon’s cries of pain with some of
their own as certain aspects of their suits reacted, popping and crackling and
sparking.
“LOCCENT? LOCCENT!!!”
They pulled their helmets off at the same time, unable to speak any longer with
them on while the comms were fried. Unable to communicate mentally, cut off
from Striker as they were. Their dragon was still managing to remain airborne
and out of the Kaiju’s reach, but only just barely, as it continued to screech
at them. The more often it released the piercing sound, the longer each bellow
became, and the more confused and pained Striker became.
With nothing left to for them to work with, and a Kaiju bearing down on them,
they did the only thing they could do. As one, they dropped their helmets, drew
the flare guns strapped to their thighs and pointed. Four bright rockets shot
forward, catching the Kaiju in both primary eyes. It reared as it roared, but
the flares had been enough of a signal for Striker to give him a direction. He
beat his wings once and craned his head, jaws opening wide.
The Kaiju’s cries of pain as plasma poured from their dragon’s jaws was a new
level of agony, but they merely crouched and moved, to be less of a burden to a
confused Striker. Leatherback proved to have some intelligence however, for it
plunged under the water and they lost track of it long enough for it to circle
them and lunge from behind. They cried out as they went down. Striker roared,
neck arching back and wings bending at odd angles as they hit the water. Chuck
and his father pulled their releases as soon as they submerged, pushing off
against Striker’s back and swimming for it.
Striker thrashed mightily. With no connection to them, he had no way of knowing
they were safe. And confused, injured, and under attack, his first response was
to protect them. Even when they were no longer attached to him.
Chuck swam for the first large thing, coming upon Cherno completely by
accident. Sasha and Aleksis floated against her, still harnessed tightly. He
reached into his boot, drawing a knife and cut them free. Grabbing each Ranger
just under the arm, he began kicking hard for the surface. He knew he didn’t
have it in him to go back, and if they were going to die, then they’d all die
together. No one would be losing their co-pilot if he could help it.
If their dragon hadn’t been so massive, they’d have never made it. As it was,
he mostly pushed off against her, sank back and did it again, conserving energy
and using Cherno’s mass to their advantage. The moment his head broke the
surface, he gasped in a deep breath. Glad for doing so as the weight of the
Kaidanovskys dragged him back under. Cherno shifted, and Chuck’s eyes went wide
as her leg slid far enough away that there was no longer any purchase. Fear
gripped him and he imagined sinking into the dark water to die with Sasha and
Aleksis. Never to know what it was like to truly be with Raleigh and Yancy. To
miss all those moments. Days and nights and long weekends and every hour in
between. Seeing them every time he looked up. Being with them every moment for
the rest of his life. He hadn’t told them he loved them in a long time.
He drew up with all his strength, lifting the Kaidanoskys above him. He wasn’t
quite sure what the plan was, but he knew he wouldn’t be dying without a fight.
And he would not be letting go. It was all or nothing.
Massive jaws suddenly closed around them, and Chuck stilled against a large
tongue, heart pounding. He could feel them moving, and suddenly, the jaws
clamped tightly shut. The tongue pressed them all very gently against the roof
of its mouth and it exhaled, water draining around the massive teeth. Chuck
fell back in relief. Cherno. They’d been saved by the Kaidanovskys dragon.
Being within a dragon’s jaws was not a common experience. But, for the moment,
he understood it was the safest place she could keep them. He listened to the
sounds of the battle outside, resting against her jawbone after pulling her
Rangers helmets off and ensuring they were breathing. He could hear Striker’s
frantic cries. He’d probably been rolled and was terrified he’d crushed them to
death or worse, that they may be drowning. He closed his eyes tightly and tried
to reach him, but the connection was well and truly gone. He hadn’t prayed for
an awfully long time, but he welcomed the habit his mother had instilled in him
as a child back into his heart, calming under the influence of the peace it
brought. And then he heard it.
The sharp, crackling strike of Gipsy’s electricity. He could feel Cherno ground
herself, knew the shockwave could carry. The Kaiju roared and charged. Gipsy
struck again, and landed a blow with her tail by the sound of it. “Come on,
Gipsy,” he cheered as Cherno’s lips peeled back in a snarl that was more about
oxygen flow for those in her protection than it’s use as a threat at the
moment. “Kick his ass!”
Cherno lumbered in one direction - presumably away from the battle. He could
tell by her gait she was injured, but had no idea how badly. The trip was long,
and slow, and at some point - even though she made sure they had regular
breezes of fresh air - he passed out. Tucked safely in the corner of his fellow
Rangers’ dragon’s mouth, the rocking motion of her movement, her steady
breathing, and the adrenaline wearing off coupled with the knowledge that she
wouldn’t release them until she felt it was safe to do so, lulled him into
unconsciousness, and he went gladly.
Chuck! came the happy cry, waking him as Cherno settled.
“What’s that, Baby?” He could hear Jazmine’s voice, muffled and incredulous.
Chuck! Chuck! cried the voice of her dragonling excitedly. Cherno has saved
him!
“MEDIC!!”
May we please have Chuck? the dragonling asked Cherno, very politely for its
age - which was without a doubt entirely Mako’s influence. Cherno must have
given some visible sign of disinclination, because the dragonling appealed
again, this time leading with, You have brought them home, but they will all
need to see doctors so they can be with us again soon. It is a good thing to
protect them so they can die in peace, but when they can be restored to you
fully, would you rather not wish it so?
Cherno lowered her head slowly and very gently scooped them up on her tongue,
and opening her jaws with some lingering hesitation, deposited all three
Rangers upon the floor.
Chuck! the dragonling exclaimed, nuzzling his face suddenly. Chuck reached up
and wrapped his arms around it, hugging tight.
“Holy shit! Chuck, you’re alive!” Jazmine said nothing else, but turned on her
heel and ran off.
Despite its appeal to retrieve the injured Rangers from the confines of
Cherno’s mouth, when the Medical team arrived, the dragonling stepped over
Chuck, its little spines raising, wings extending, and fangs bared. Its tail
swung over him, lashing in upset. Its head moved against its neck in twitching
motions, a combination of its mother’s agile muscles and its father’s sharp
eyes, being used to track every human who drew near.
“Hey, you,” Chuck spoke to it softly, stroking the curve of its chest where its
incendiary gland would grow strong enough to spout plasma one day. “It’s okay.
They’re going to take care of me.” He looked up at the medical team, raising a
brow and adding, “Right?”
They all nodded enthusiastically. The dragonling may be small compared to the
older dragons in the Shatterdome, but it was still the size of a Clyesdale,
with sharp fangs and claws that could seriously injure them if it felt
particularly inclined to use them.
A roar echoed around them, shaking everything it came into contact with, and
Striker suddenly lumbered in. The dragonling scuttled backward enough to expose
Chuck to its father’s nose. Striker inhaled a few times deeply, then dropped
his snout against Chuck’s chest. His eyes were sorrowful, and Chuck understood
that he was still unable to communicate with them. But he’d known Striker since
he was an egg, long before he’d grown large, picked a gender and became a
parent. Draping his arms across his snout, he leaned forward. Striker lifted
him clear of the floor, nuzzling slightly in the soft bumping way of his.
“I’m fine, really,” Chuck assured them all. “Didn’t even get hurt. Cherno
scooped me out of the water and kept me safe the rest of the way.”
Striker set him down gently, long neck carrying his head to Cherno, who reached
out to nuzzle in returned gratitude. If there were other ways for dragons to
speak, they’d said everything that needed saying in an instant, because Striker
scooped Chuck up, nuzzled his dragonling and walked off with them both, leaving
medics unsure of whether to trail behind them or attempt to care for the
Kaidanovskys under Cherno’s watchful gaze.
Chuck figured Cherno was the lesser of two evils - or the Kaidanovskys were
more injured than they appeared - for the team watched them go a while longer,
before turning to devote all their attention to Sasha and Aleksis.
By the time they made it to Striker’s pen, Mako, Jazmine, her brothers, his dad
and uncle, Stacker Pentecost, Tamsin, Gipsy, Lucky, and Coyote were all
waiting. They gave Striker plenty of time to settle in, Herc unprotesting as
Striker reached for him and scooped him close, keeping his Rangers safe between
his forelegs, below the powerful jaws that could melt the flesh off bones as
easily as tearing it. The dragonling wandered in, circled a few times and made
itself comfortable. Gipsy and Lucky followed suit, which gave safe passage to
their Rangers, and Uncle Scott, Raleigh and Yancy wasted no time in entering.
Mako and Jazmine were more sedate, stepping inside, but leaning back against
the wall.
“Your arm,” Chuck said, as his father settled slow and cautious.
“It’ll heal,” his father replied. “Damn Kaiju fell on us.”
“Found the Weis?” Chuck asked.
His father nodded. “You bring back Sasha and Aleksis?”
Chuck shook his head. “No, Cherno did that on her own. Invited me along for the
ride.”
“For which I’m glad,” Herc replied, shifting to take him under his good arm and
drawing him into a hug. “Thought we’d lost you.”
Chuck carefully avoided mentioning how they almost had.
“They all refused to leave,” Jazmine explained. “Even after threat of court
martial. Just kept circling.”
He looked up at his lovers and gave them a supportive smile. They were standing
just outside the boundaries of Striker’s forelegs. Respectful and patient,
mindful of Striker’s disquiet and the situation they could put them all in if
they pushed the matter. But, he could see in them as well, the need to be
beside him. To hold him close between them and explore with their hands, not
just their eyes. To ensure that he was safe and whole and real and alive.
Chuck thumped a hand affectionately against Striker’s foreleg, gaining the
dragon’s attention. “You get to cuddle your mate and I can’t be held by mine?”
Striker’s head lifted slightly and he snorted, but when he went back to
nuzzling Gipsy, he left a small gap between his claws that closed again after
both Beckets had unhesitatingly passed through.
“Mates huh?” Raleigh commented with a grin as he settled down beside him.
“Shut it,” Chuck replied, head dropping tiredly to the blond’s shoulder.
“Dragon terminology is more efficient.” Raleigh slipped an arm about his waist.
Yancy settled on his other side and drew both close to his chest, leaning back
against Striker’s foreleg. The dragon didn’t so much as stir. “Don’t let him
get to you, Chuck,” he soothed, stroking back Chuck’s hair. “Gipsy’s been
calling you our ‘little mate’ since she met you.”
Chuck’s brow rose at that.
Gipsy didn’t help matters by shamelessly admitting, I have.
Chuck felt his eyelids rapidly gaining weight. His lashes fluttered as he tried
to keep conscious and engaged. He’d slept who knew how long in Cherno’s mouth,
surely he couldn’t have needed any more! But the feeling of safety was
overwhelming. Tucked close between his lovers. In the shadow of his dragon.
Surrounded by his family - human and dragon alike.
“Wait,” he said, suddenly jerking awake. He shifted in their embrace to look up
at Gipsy, who he could barely see beyond Striker’s own mass. “Since you met
me?! I was thirteen!!”
“And wasn’t that a fun surprise,” Raleigh drawled from behind him.
I spoke to you, she reminded him. Directly.
“You did,” he agreed. “But, I was still a kid.”
Not so much so that it was warranted. I had my treasures then.
Yancy and Raleigh both flushed at the term. Clearly they’d never had the horde
discussion with Gipsy. Chuck would fill them in later.
“It was only appropriate,” he said in sudden understanding.
Yes.
“What?” asked Raleigh.
“When Lucky took me off to dinner, you asked Gipsy if she was talking to me.
She said ‘It was only appropriate’.”
“Ah,” said Yancy, comprehending.
“I couldn’t hear why she thought so. Striker had ambled off and Lucky wouldn’t
let me hear-...Did EVERYONE KNOW?!”
Yes, answered Lucky, Gipsy and Coyote in tandem. Striker was still recovering,
but his head bobbed in agreement.
“To be fair,” his Uncle Scott chimed in. “Only the dragons really knew. The
rest of us just sort of trusted their judgement and let it ride.”
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” he cried, sitting up. He couldn’t comprehend how his life
had come down to this, and why he’d never noticed before. Raleigh and Yancy
moved with him, but didn’t break contact. “So, all of them knew.” He made a
sweeping gesture. “And all of you knew.” His arm flagged back and forth in the
general direction of the largest human cluster. “And no one told me?”
“Chuck, sweetheart, what were we supposed to say?” Yancy asked him. “Hi, we
just met you, and this is crazy, but apparently we’re soul mates, would you
like to hang out so we could get to know each other better? You were thirteen!”
“And Striker wasn’t even gendered yet,” Raleigh added. “So you couldn’t start
bonding deeply enough to notice we glowed in dragon sight.”
“In all honesty, we weren’t sure you’d notice it. We were…” He looked to
Raleigh. “Equal parts relieved and terrified when you brought it up in the
hospital.”
“You brought it up,” Chuck countered. “Raleigh asked me.”
“You needed leading,” his lover commented.
“I was fifteen!”
“Exactly,” Yancy said. “And if Knifehead hadn’t happened…” He sighed. “We would
have waited longer to bring it to your attention.”
“Why?”
“So you could be a kid!”
Raleigh lay a hand to Yancy’s arm. “It wasn’t easy for us either, okay? Do you
know how much questioning you do when you’re faced with something like that? We
were older than you, there were two of us...We thought…” He bit his lip, curled
his hand into a fist and beat his thigh once with it, spurring himself on. “We
thought you’d be disgusted.”
“I’m sorry, have either of you ever looked in a mirror?”
They both swatted him affectionately. Yancy in the head, Raleigh against the
ass. It spoke a lot about their characters, and general positioning.
“I was twenty-one,” Raleigh informed him. “Yance was even older!”
“Gee thanks, Rals.”
“We were freaked! We’d thought you’d be too!”
Chuck flexed his foot. “Actually, I was relieved.”
“You were?” they asked in unison, heads cocking at the same time in opposite
directions as they looked down at him.
Chuck exhaled, loathe to move, but they deserved to have this conversation out,
even if it included everyone. Not that it mattered much, because apparently, it
always had. So what would be the difference? He pushed himself up.
“It’s...unsettling being a kid and realizing you have feeling for someone older
than you. But you weren’t just older, you were Rangers. You had status and
reputations and a dragon, with the foremost Kaiju kills already on record. I
thought, ‘Well, okay, I fancy them. Nothing odd there. But then...it was
different. I could feel it, and I didn’t know what it was. And when Knifehead…”
They each closed hands about parts of him and squeezed in support. Chuck licked
his lips. “I just lost it. I know everyone blamed Striker, and he was okay with
that.” Striker made a rumbling noise. “But, it wasn’t just Striker. You know it
wasn’t.”
The Beckets nodded. They’d had that discussion years ago.
“And I...Well...Finding out you were mine...It changed things. It...I dunno. I
was happy. We had to wait, but I was happy.”
“It was weird for us too,” Raleigh said. “At first, even though we knew, we
didn’t really feel any different. Like, you were a cute kid - which you know,
you smug asshole - but that was the extent of it. It sort of felt like we were
adopting you in the beginning.”
“Gipsy said it was perfectly natural and the few other dragons we approached
about it supported her claim. Though, they didn’t see anything wrong with the
age difference themselves.”
“Because dragons,” Raleigh finished for him.
“But, we weren’t any more attracted to you than this desire to really get to
know you. To bring you into our lives.”
“Gipsy said that was normal too. That even soulmates needed to bond before they
could find attraction in one another.”
“Which you fucking saw to as you grew up.” It was the kind of comment Chuck was
used to hearing from Raleigh, and he was a little delighted when Yancy was the
one who uttered it.
“By the time you were eighteen, you didn’t know it, but you had us well and
truly fucked up,” Raleigh informed him. “So when you took us aside to talk
about your birthday…”
“You were still young. You had your career spread out ahead of you, and we’d
realized ours was over. We were dealing with a lot. I’m not excusing it, but,
we weren’t in the best headspace then, and we were trying to protect you.”
“We went about it wrong, and we’re sorry we hurt you. But, we’re not sorry that
we freed you up to live your life.”
“And we’re definitely not sorry that despite us being assholes, you still came
back.”
“Though, we’ll admit, we held out a lot of hope.”
“We’re not stupid enough to let you go again.”
“So, when you said it was appropriate to choose Male over Female,” Chuck asked
Striker, looking up at him. “Was this what you meant?”
Striker tilted his head, then leaned down to nuzzle him affectionately. One of
us had to see to the next generation, he replied. It was soft and flickered
slightly, but it clearly brought joy flooding through them both, a feeling that
radiated out around them in the others with whom they shared their lives.
“How was everyone so okay with this?” Chuck asked in general as Striker
snuffled against his hair.
“We weren’t, if we’re being honest,” his father said. “But, when you’re
connected to a dragon for long enough, you start to realize the world isn’t so
black and white.”
“More like greyscale and sepia,” his uncle joked. He’d managed to be invited
into the circle and was seated beside his brother, their shoulders brushing in
silent support.
“We argued a lot,” Herc admitted.
“There were some damn creative and frankly disturbingly accurate and detailed
threats on our lives and anatomy,” Yancy informed him helpfully.
“A lot of which we actually had to look up,” Raleigh added.
“In the end though,” Scott said. “What any of us wanted didn’t matter, and that
made things easier. Because it wasn’t about us. It was about you. And once you
reciprocated those feelings…”
“There were a hell of a lot more threats,” Raleigh finished for him, jovially.
“But we realized you’d probably want them to keep all their bits, so it was
mostly good natured.” Uncle Scott smiled.
“They’re still threatening us,” Yancy added, with a grin of his own.
“Never gonna stop,” the elder pair of Australians informed them matter of
factly.
“But, at least we can’t get you pregnant, so there’s a whole load off,” Raleigh
joked.
“People trusted in their dragons,” Stacker said.
“And it wouldn’t be the first time,” Tamsin added with a grin.
Chuck looked back and forth, eyes widening slowly. “The both of you?!” he cried
in abstract horror.
“Oi!” Scott snapped. “You should not be throwing stones.”
“Christ,” Chuck mumbled, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “That was not an
image I needed.”
“Which is why Striker and I decided to keep that to ourselves,” his father
agreed.
“You fucking traitor,” Chuck rasped.
Striker rumbled in amusement.
“I can’t believe Stacker Pentecost has been fucking my dad and my uncle at the
same time,” Chuck bemoaned, raking both hands over his face.
“I can’t believe that’s still bothering you,” Raleigh teased.
Chuck glared at him, which made him laugh. He threw his towel aside and climbed
on the bed. “Is it the fact that they’re brothers or that they’re related to
you?”
“Love, if I had an issue with fucking brothers, we would be having a very
different conversation right now.”
Yancy chuckled from where he was sprawled out beside them, face in a pillow.
They were supposed to be resting, but the nap in Cherno’s mouth followed by the
information spill had Chuck wired. Yancy - who never needed much incentive to
fall asleep - was only half listening, eyes closed and body relaxed. And
Raleigh was as attentive as ever, if somewhat distracting for still being
naked. They’d all taken quick - unsexy - showers to detox from the Kaiju
battle. And had retreated to the bed one at a time, keeping one another company
until they were all through. Yancy and Chuck had both put clothing on - light
sleep pants for the blond, a pair of boxer-briefs for the redhead - but Raleigh
just dropped down bare as the day he was born and drew Chuck into his arms.
Yancy snaked a hand out to tangle with Chuck’s, but otherwise didn’t move. His
arm extending across the bed slightly, though he was taking up the majority of
it, sprawled as he was.
“If I can just further gross you out for a minute,” Raleigh said, lips to
Chuck’s brow. “You come from a very unfairly attractive family and half the
Shatterdome would screw all three of you at once if given the chance.”
Chuck’s nose wrinkled, but he smiled as twin rumbles of laughter assaulted him
from both sides.
“You’re not so bad yourselves,” he told them.
“Yeah, well, clearly you lucked out.”
Yancy’s face turned into his pillow as he laughed hard. Chuck caught a snort or
two, but let them slide. The bed shook slightly with the force of it, which
warmed Chuck’s insides.
“Now, if we’re done focusing on the sex life of our commanding officer, I have
a few ideas to pass the time.”
They couldn’t indulge as much as they wanted to - they were all on call now and
the Shatterdome was in the middle of a frantic eight hour rehaul - but they
managed to keep one another entertained. Yancy even woke up to participate.
“I don’t like this plan,” Yancy said with a frown. “I don’t like this plan at
all.”
“Hear me out,” Newt urged.
K-Science had had some sort of breakthrough and Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb
had interrupted a mission briefing to bring the Marshall up to date.
“No one likes this plan,” Raleigh agreed, arms folded across his chest. “It’s a
shit plan.”
“Rangers,” the Marshall ordered. In one word calling them all to order. It
never ceased to amaze Chuck how capable Stacker Pentecost was. Accomplished and
level headed, always prepared and so adept at engagement on multiple levels
that he’d been screwing his uncle and his father for at least the past five
years and Chuck hadn’t even been suspicious.
He groaned and rubbed at his face with an open palm.
“Stop thinking about it,” Jazmine whispered in his ear from behind him.
“Can’t.”
“You screw my brothers stupid on a daily basis, you don’t see it keeping me up
at night.”
“Jaz, I’d love to do nothing more than screw your brothers stupid, but
unfortunately, I’ve been on call since I bleeding arrived!”
Someone cleared their throat.
Chuck looked up to find several eyes on him. Some of which were reprimanding.
Most of which were amused. His uncle was clearly trying not to laugh outright.
“Sorry,” he apologized, head ducking.
Conversation picked up after a moment.
“The dragons will never go for it," his dad said. “It’s far too risky.”
“I agree,” chimed Uncle Scott. “They’re not about to risk our lives on
something that might not even work. And no one here is willing to risk their
dragon’s life for the same reason.”
“It’ll work,” Newt assured them. “But you have to time it just right.”
“Keep higher than them,” Hermann added. “Or the drop will never successfully
attach.”
“What’s to say the payload will even attach?” asked Raleigh.
“Genetics,” replied the pair of scientists.
When they were met with more than a few stares, Newt explained, “We’ve been
over this. They’re essentially clones.” Several people nodded, but Newt
continued on regardless. “Basically, what that means is, we already have an
advantage, because we have more than enough samples to code.”
“And you’re sure they’ll take?” Yancy asked, dubious.
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
“So, you’re asking us to make a run at the Breach in a last ditch effort to
spare ourselves from being overrun, with nothing to go on but blind faith, a
few half baked theories and genetically encrypted nuclear warheads that may or
may not attach to the intended targets?” Herc asked.
“Scientific evidence and mathematical theory,” corrected Hermann. “But,
essentially, yes.”
“Right, this plan sounds wonderfully sane,” drawled Uncle Scott. “Almost
certain failure, high risk of maiming, good chance of death.” He clapped his
hands together, the sound sharp, but somehow focusing. “So, who’s going?”
“Striker Eureka, you’ll carry the payload,” the Marshall informed them. “Cherno
can’t fly and you’re the fastest. Herc, will you be able to manage?”
“Lived through worse. Strap my arm to my side and I’ll be right as rain.”
“Gipsy and Romeo will be back up. Ms. Becket, we’re going to need to borrow Ms.
Mori.”
“Borrow her?” Jazmine asked, straightening.
“Tamsin can’t ride,” Stacker said, looking sideways at his partner. She smiled
at him and then Jazmine. When Tamsin had been injured during the battle of
Tokyo against Onibaba, they hadn’t expected her to live. She’d refused to die
in a hospital bed and Stacker had ensured she was moved, brought to Coyote, to
die with the peace and dignity a Ranger deserved. The doctors had been furious,
but there had been precious little they could do at the time. No one would
speak of how the move had saved Tamsin’s life, but against all odds, she’d
survived. Her vitals evening out until she was thriving. But whatever had
happened to save her could not negate the damage done to her spine, and as
such, she was incapable of being aloft for more than a simple glide around the
‘Dome, and not a very long one, at that. “Mako is our only child, and while not
of our blood, Coyote accepts her as a legacy bearer.”
Mako sucked in a breath as if finally understanding the Marshall’s line of
thought. Her eyes widened, but she straightened, setting her arms to her sides
respectfully.
“I need a co-pilot. And Mako is my only option.”
“You coming along, Stacker?” his father asked. He didn’t sound surprised, but
he didn’t sound pleased either. A strange combination of fond, amused, and
frustrated. His father could no sooner change the Marshall than the weather,
regardless of how many years they’d been together. Chuck wondered whether Uncle
Scott had been with them since the beginning.
His eyes drifted to his uncle, but Scott looked more upset that he and Lucky
would not be able to go as well. Lucky had recovered far better than Coyote,
and had been active more recently. But, without his father...Chuck felt guilty,
and for the first time, inadequate as a Ranger. He’d had no control, of course,
over who Striker would accept. And Striker had never shown any interest in his
fellow cadets, even his closest friends. But, he hated that he’d essentially
stolen his father away when his uncle had still needed him most.
He’d missed what’d been said he realized, when hands graced his back. He looked
up into the faces of his lovers and gave a small smile.
“We need to talk,” Yancy said.
Chuck blinked. “Are we dismissed?”
“Yeah,” Raleigh sighed, not bothering to tease him over not paying attention.
“Come on,” Yancy soothed, sliding an arm around him.
Raleigh stepped into his side and followed.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” his elder lover said when they’d paused outside the
flightsuit room. “Don’t focus on anyone else. You pay attention to what you’re
doing, and you do what needs to be done and you get the hell out of there. No
heroics, Chuck. Don’t even be selfish.” He took his hands, squeezed them in his
own and drew them up to kiss his knuckles.
Chuck inhaled sharply, feeling a weight sink in his gut.
“Don’t you dare!” he snapped, trying to yank his hands back to no avail. “Don’t
you fucking say goodbye!”
“Chuck…” Raleigh’s fingers slid feather light down his back, following his
spine.
Chuck bucked. “No! NO!”
Raleigh’s hand paused to splay low against his back. “We don’t want to, but we
have to,” he said. “You know why.”
He swallowed.
Gipsy had shown remarkable recovery, but she wasn’t what she once was. They’d
trained and prepared, and had even seen combat again, and lived to talk about
it. But, they’d been recruited from retirement and this was no ordinary fight.
Even Striker, with his speed, would be impeded by the weight of the explosives
and slowed by his own injuries. And who knew what advancements the Kaiju they
were about to face had been given. Chuck stopped struggling.
“We love you, Chuck,” Yancy said.
“We love you so much,” Raleigh added, leaning into him. Chuck was torn between
closing his eyes to drink it in, or keeping them open to commit every detail to
memory. In the end, he couldn’t look away from them, not if it was in fact, to
be the last time.
“I love you,” he told them. “But, if you don’t do your best out there, I’m
going to find you after and kick your asses. You fly, you fight, you bring
yourselves home.” He reached out, gripping each by the neck and bringing them
close until all their brows met. “I have plans for us,” he murmured. “So many
plans. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”
Yancy laughed quietly. Raleigh closed his eyes and pressed his face closer.
“We owe it to each other and ourselves to try.”
Yancy kissed him softly, then Raleigh. Raleigh returned the kisses in reverse
order. As did Chuck, his far more heartfelt, infused with hope, rather than
weighed by sorrow. He nuzzled them. “Get back all in one piece,” he told them
huskily. “And you’ll know what it feels like to come all over each other inside
me.”
Raleigh groaned, but smiled, heart lightened.
“Is that all?” Yancy replied.
“Yup!” he answered brightly.
“Have I ever told you…” Raleigh murmured. “I love the way your mind works?”
“Did you practice that too?”
Chuck grinned. “Well, that’s for you to find out now, isn’t it?”
There had been more fearsome groups, of that he was certain. As it stood, not a
single dragon was without an injury, either fresh or scarred over,
disadvantages lingering. They flew in a diamond formation, with Striker on
point, flanked by Gipsy and Romeo, Coyote trailing. Their fellow Jaeger teams -
Rangers and dragons alike - had stood in customary farewell and saluted, rising
from even the worst of sick beds to stand, press two fingers to the chest, just
above the heart, and swing their arms out wide, minds, hearts, souls and drifts
with them as they flew past. The dragons craning back their necks to roar.
There had never been a more solemn mood, as they rose to standing and saluted
back, holding the gestures on both ends until they could no longer see one
another. The Rangers crouching back into resting positions against their
dragons’ massive shoulders. There’d never been a direct attack made upon the
Breach before. Plans had been drafted, and attempts made, but the Breach had
always been prepared, as if guarded for the singular purpose of driving back
any countermeasures and maintaining a foothold within their world.
The time for action was long since passed, and they were all that was left of a
short, but brilliant legacy which Chuck knew would last as long as any other
dragon tale. There may be bumps, snags, and misappropriations, but a hundred
years from now, a thousand, maybe even ten thousand, people would know that
there once was a time when the world was near to ending, and of the brave
Jaegers, fierce, mighty and powerful dragons and the humans who would always
fight beside them. They would know how despite all odds, they’d fought down to
the very last of them, and been victorious. Regardless of the loss, their world
secured, their legacy maintained.
Striker found Chuck’s thoughts so inspiring, he freely shared them with the
other dragons in their company, who in turn, shared what they perceived as
bolstering courage with their own Rangers.
“That’s the most romantic, motivational suicide run not-speech I have ever
heard,” came Raleigh’s comment over the comms.
“What he means is, that’s beautiful, Chuck,” Yancy replied. “I hope this
mission goes even half that well.”
“It will,” the Marshall informed them.
“And Trev was just singing,” Bruce said, laughing when Trevin gasped, “Hey!”
“What were you singing, Mr. Gage?” asked Mako.
“We’re in battle, Mako, call me Trevin.”
“Yes, sir.”
They all chuckled into their helmets.
“Sea shanty,” he admitted.
“It’s always a sea shanty,” Bruce interjected.
“It calms our nerves.”
Bruce didn’t correct him, which made Chuck smile. In the drift you just were
and were accepted for who that was. By dragon and fellow Ranger. It was a heady
feeling. He’d miss it when the war was over.
It isn’t as if Striker is going to abandon us, came his father’s reaction to
the thought.
Striker made a rumbling sound of agreement, head and neck shifting slightly in
a nod that maintained the grace of flight, the currents of air rolling off him
and down his neck. They briefly swept over the pair of Rangers secured atop his
back and Chuck stretched out his arms to better feel it as it passed.
“How does a sea shanty go?” Mako asked quietly after a moment.
It was a show of nerves, and he had no doubt she was unsure whether admitting
such a thing would be considered a positive or negative among her fellow
Rangers. But, a first ride into battle was never easy, and anything that would
help her relax was all right with Chuck, and his fellow Rangers. For Bruce and
Trevin simply responded by beginning a round that the Beckets picked up
immediately after. He and his Dad joined in next, followed last by Mako and
Stacker.
Their dragons - drifting with them - seemed to benefit as well. Some of the
muscles in Striker’s back untensed, and Chuck could see Gipsy’s wingbeats
transition into more of a steady glide. She rode the wind, wings extended, and
in so doing, listed slightly less. Yancy and Raleigh reached out at the same
time to stroke down the section of her spine that rested between them.
They sang the entire way. Chuck found, it was an oddly effective means to
soothe the bubble of adrenaline that overtook him pre-battle. If their attack
was unsuccessful and they survived, they might consider undertaking a similar
ritual. Up until that point, they’d mostly spent pre-battle flights coiled
tightly like springs, waiting for the moment to release it all upon the Kaiju.
But there was something steadying about the rhythmic release that kept the
blood beating just quickly enough, but the adrenaline low enough to maintain a
steady head. It was no wonder the Gages had once been the top Jaeger team in
the PPDC.
They had it down to an exact science - which was slightly awe inspiring. For as
they approached, Bruce and Trevin ended the round and surprisingly switched
right into battle mode. Romeo had superior eyesight, something she had not lost
in her own maiming. She caught sight of the Kaiju first, and relayed the
message to the Gage twins who informed the rest of them over the comms.
They circled, tip of each dragon’s nose to the tail of the next, as all Jaegers
took in the situation. These Kaiju were unlike Kaiju they’d fought before.
Aquatic in nature, and unwilling, it seemed to spring out of the safety of the
ocean to engage them.
“We’re going to have to force them out,” Stacker said. “Gipsy, Striker, take an
end and herd them into the middle of the formation.”
“Sir!” four voices replied, Striker and Gipsy sliding smoothly into turns that
brought them out of the formation.
“Romeo, take point. We’ll be the bait.”
“Sir!” Romeo beat her wings, arcing upward and steadily gaining altitude. She
may be slower now, but she was still accurate and deadly in a freefall, which
would make up for any loss in forward momentum.
“Mako, are you ready?” Stacker asked as the others slipped into position.
“Hai,” she replied.
Once they were in motion, Chuck mostly lost track of the others. They were
there on his peripheral, and he could hear them over the comms, but his focus
was on Striker and their safety as they carried out their portion of the
mission.
“Don’t get too close, Striker!” Stacker commanded as they performed a low
sweep, leaving a plasma trail bubbling in the open ocean in their wake. “If
those bombs go off-”
“We’re dead,” his dad replied. “We know.”
“As long as we take them with us,” Chuck added in the heat of the moment. “What
difference does it make?”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Chuck!” Yancy chided.
“Not planning to, love. But, a fight’s a fight. If we have a shot-”
“We’re taking it,” his father finished.
They banked hard, rolling within reach. A burst of white hot flame - Striker
never resulted to anything their suits couldn’t protect them from when there
was a chance it might backspray and catch them up in it - catching a fleeing
Kaiju right in the face. It screeched and attacked. launching itself out of the
water.
“On your six!” Raleigh cried, and Striker continued the motion, sweeping out of
the way to be replaced by Gipsy, too high for the Kaiju to reach. She opened
her jaws and lightning crackled and burst from her. It hit it’s mark, landing
in the Kaiju’s open mouth as it roared.
Chuck was thankful for his helmet. The smell of burned flesh was only slightly
permeating, and he had no desire to know that smell full on. Striker swept back
in, alighting just in front of her, and finishing the Kaiju off with a plasma
burst down its already destroyed esophagus. The Kaiju twitched and sunk into
the water, plasma leaking from around its eyes and teeth, and small shocks of
electricity still jerking its muscles as it sunk.
The high pitch of Romeo’s release alerted them to her presence and Gipsy and
Striker darted out of the way to make room. Romeo dropped like a stone, jaws
opening as she approached the water. The other kaiju burst clear in an attempt
to meet her in the air and possibly bring her down for potential drowning, but
it made the same fatal mistake as its fellow, mouth wide open in challenge.
Romeo released the burst, the sound tearing by in all directions. The burst of
air and sound hit the Kaiju just in time to send it reeling, half its jaw blow
off. She caught herself, leveling and turning to get out of the way. But the
Kaiju caught her by the tail, sunk its claws in and dragged her into the deep.
Coyote bellowed and dove in after her - likely without Stacker and Mako’s
agreement - but Coyote was an elemental and the only one among them who would
survive, even with her Rangers aboard.
Striker and Gipsy circled anxiously, watching and waiting as sparks flashed
every so often, illuminating the dark water below them. Massive bubbles
erupted, spraying geysers clear into the sky. There was nothing they could do
but watch and wait.
It went silent and dark, and Chuck felt his heart stuttering in his chest with
worry and unease. Just when it seemed like they may have all drowned, Romeo’s
head and the tips of her wings cleared the surface. She roared, expelling
water, and with a deep inhale began to furiously flap upward. As she cleared
the water, Coyote’s head could be seen, giving her a nudge up. Romeo rose
unsteadily, trembling. The Gages pulled their helmets off and dropped forward
gasping and coughing.
Coyote unfurled her wings to their full extension and Chuck spared a moment to
be awed. Her wings, which were quadruple jointed, were very rarely fully
extended, as they served mostly to keep her aloft, instead of propel her
through water. Her wings arced upward gloriously, and in one breathtaking
motion, went crashing down into the water. She sprung up as if she’d been
launched, water pouring off her in rivers. Another stroke had her above all the
rest of them and a third had her nearly out of sight above them. Then they
folded in back to the size and shape Chuck was more accustomed to seeing, and
she dropped down.
“Attack formation,” the Marshall ordered. “Striker, Gipsy with us. Romeo, get
out of range!”
Striker and Gipsy rose to get the altitude they’d need to meet Coyte on her
downward spiral. Romeo ascended as well, but kept clear of them.
“Follow us in!” Striker commanded. “We have one chance at this! And Striker and
Gipsy won’t be able to make it back out if we miscalculate.”
“Sir!” they responded.
They dug their heels in, dropping low to keep as close to Striker’s body as
they could and maintain his aerodynamic shape. Coyote dropped and Striker and
Gipsy drew their wings close to drop with her. They must have made a glorious
sight, the three dragons in such a tight, aggressive formation, and Chuck would
have liked to see it. The thought was interrupted as the largest Kaiju he’d
ever seen in his entire life rose from the ocean and swung massive tentacles at
them.
Mako and Stacker cried out in surprise as Coyote was rammed from her blind
side, the tentacles overtaking her and plunging her, Rangers and all, into the
dark water.
“Gipsy!” Chuck cried.
“Let’s do this!” they replied.
“On point!” snapped his father. “Do not disengage! Do not disengage!”
They all yelled with all the pent up force within their bodies, Gipsy and
Striker roaring in finality and each latching onto the Kaiju’s massive
shoulders, their fangs sinking deep. The whole lot of them hit the water hard,
rapidly descending. The Kaiju could breathe and began to thrash in earnest, but
Gipsy and Striker gave up breath for release, and its body jerked as
electricity and plasma swept through it. It was as if their dragons were
injecting it, and they rode the descent, not even needing to light the way. In
the darkness, the Kaiju’s body glowed, alight with its own natural
bioluminescence and their dragons combined attacks.
“NOW!” he and his father yelled in unison.
They all dug their heels in and leaned back, urging their dragons to release.
“Go! Go!” he shouted to his lovers.
They hesitated, one with their dragon in that moment. Gipsy looked almost
angelic, wings spread in the water, tail swayed by the current and long neck
fully extended. But, she caught herself as her Rangers gasped “Love you!” clear
through the drift, steady and strong. Her entire body twisting sharply as she
beat frantically upward, trying to use what strength was left in her to get
them to safety.
“Love you too,” he replied, tears in his eyes.
He and his father released the payload, hands working furiously before
Striker’s own instincts could overtake them. They had a few moments at best,
and they made the most of them, Striker doing his best to keep them level as
the barbed warheads latched. He swept his wings back in one strong movement,
and lowering his head, released a white hot burst so bright that Chuck and his
dad both cried out and closed their eyes, arms up and shielding.
The Kaiju shrieked in alarm, but the damage was done. Through his dragon’s
eyes, Chuck could see the Kaiju fall into the opening maw of the Breach,
propelled backward into it by the sheer force of Striker’s attack. Their dragon
too had used the angle to their advantage, and Chuck felt the water rushing by
oppressively as they ascended, riding the backwave clear upward.
He could just feel Striker make a sharp, desperate turn, before he blacked out.
When he came to, he wasn’t greeted with anything. His eyes blinking rapidly,
but the world still black. Fear engulfed him as his body didn’t respond, no
sound, no light, nothing to greet him but endless darkness and stillness. The
terror rose, screams bursting his chest clear open, but still, he remained.
Chuck, came a voice. He knew that voice better than his own. Chuck! You have
returned to me!
Chuck frantically tried to grab hold of him. Anything to keep from sinking into
the darkness again. His hands grappled at nothing, fingers numb and
unresponsive, despite his whole being fighting desperately to make purchase.
Chuck, Striker soothed. I am here. Be calm; I am here.
Pain lanced through him, and Chuck could feel the tears in his eyes, unable to
be freed because of how tightly clenched together they were.
Chuck, come to me. Yes, come here. That is good. I am here, come to me.
He could hear a whining noise, high and pained. And his body responded, shaking
violently.
Striker exhaled, low and long and it washed away, leaving Chuck standing in a
clearing, beautiful and serene. He gasped, doubling over to catch his breath
against the sudden release of agony. Collapsing altogether when his legs could
no longer support him. He rolled onto his side, and then his back, sprawling
slightly in the cool, sweet grass.
“Striker?” he rasped, throat tight with emotion more than pain or fear.
Rest now, was all his dragon would say. Chuck found himself obeying
immediately. Eyelids heavy and body slumping in exhaustion.
When next he woke, he registered the pillows beneath his head. Could feel the
sheet spread across him. Could hear the soft beeping of machinery. But he could
tell from the smell that he wasn’t in the hospital. The scents of dragon hide
and nesting materials far more comforting than anyone ever gave them credit
for.
Chuck, Striker cooed, the edge of his snout nuzzling so lightly it almost felt
as if he was merely exhaling over him. Still, it hurt enough that Chuck
flinched, breath and a cry catching in his throat as his body seized. Striker
made a soothing sound and lay his head over him. Amazingly, the pain stopped,
leached from his body through the contact. Chuck, Striker attempted for a
second time. Speak to me, please.
He inhaled a little more shakily than he’d been expecting, but his hands obeyed
him - though they trembled slightly - reaching up to stroke the underside of
Striker’s snout.
His dragon made a tittering sound and Chuck could feel his neck shifting
through the subtle pressure of his head, though it did not move nor lift free.
Chuck, he crooned. Do not ever do that again. I forbid you!
Did I die? he asked, knowing Striker could hear him.
Yes.
Did Dad die?
No, though he tried. I did not let him. But you do not listen!
Chuck smiled - mostly internally. I’m sorry, he apologized.
You are never to die on me again. Not until you are very, very old.
He stroked Striker’s scales.
And even then, I may not let you.
He chuckled, the movement causing a slight twinging sensation in his ribs. Even
you can’t keep me here forever, Striker.
We are both very stubborn. We will manage somehow.
I’m sure we will, he consoled him.
And I have spoken with the Beckets and Mako and the youngling.
What about?
When you are well, Jazmine has consented to allow you to sire by her, that you
and Yancy and Raleigh may have young of your own, and we may all yet be less
alone.
He blinked at that both mentally and physically. “You…” he rasped, and promptly
dropped into a coughing fit. “Are you...studding me?” he asked incredulously.
You have male mates, Striker replied, unrepentant. Gipsy, Lucky, the youngling,
Coyote and I have decided it is in all of our best interests to keep the
offspring together, rather than undergo a lengthy process otherwise.
“So you’re…all in on it, huh?” he wheezed slightly.
We will outlive you by centuries, even millennia. We wish only to remain
together, to jointly cherish your descendents.
“You realize…” he told him, giving in and stroking him soothingly - for both
their sakes. Striker had lost him, had felt the loss keenly, and may never
recover from it. Chuck was willing to do anything he had to in order to ease
that burden and the ticking clock of his mortality as best he could, for his
oldest friend. “Any kid the Beckets and I have will probably end up with a
dragon of their own? We’re special like that.”
You are, Striker agreed, a low rumbling sound of happiness vibrating within
Chuck.
“As long as you’re prepared for that.”
Would that we could keep you forever beside us, Striker replied wistfully.
“Striker...if we could...you know we would. Forever and a day.”
Forever and a day leaves us with a million tomorrows, his dragon purred.
“Yes…” He felt the weight of Striker’s sadness, and the light a child would
bring. He had to admit, he’d not thought much of it - he was young - but a baby
with Yancy and Raleigh...that was something he could definitely get behind.
“You just let them come,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the underside of
Striker’s jaw. “Rest with me. You’ve been vigilant too long.”
Striker relaxed against him, exhaling deeply. Perhaps, he agreed. For a moment
or two.
Striker slept deeply, head resting gently over Chuck, warming him nearly
unbearably. But it was so good to feel again and Chuck was so happy to be
alive, he barely minded.
Max wandered in and took up residence at his side, curling into a ball between
his torso and arm and dropping his chin to Chuck’s inner elbow. He couldn’t pet
him, trapped as he was, but he drank in the love and attention and let it lull
him.
Chuck’s first visitors were family. Striker only willing to let blood close to
him in his weakened state. His father had been banged up pretty badly. His
rotator cuff torn, decompression sickness, a collapsed lung, spinal trauma and
a head injury. When he and Chuck looked at one another, all broken and bruised,
they’d laughed until they were doubled over in pain and Striker forced Herc to
lay beside him and have the pain ebbed. His father had taken his hand and laced
their fingers and in the safety of the cover of their dragon told Chuck how
proud of him he was and just how much he loved him. They never said it - it
didn’t need saying. But hearing it...hearing it rocked the foundation of
Chuck’s world, and he’d brokenly sobbed that he loved him in return, confusing
Striker for a moment, who only felt the pain that lanced through him as the
weight lifted free of his chest.
“Uncle Scott?” he asked later when his dad had drifted off thanks to Striker’s
intervention. When you were living with pain, the very release of it was enough
to relax anyone into peaceful unconsciousness if given enough time.
“Yeah, sprog?” he replied from where he sat beside them, legs extended and back
to Stiker’s foreleg, Max snoring away in his lap as his fingers stroked
endlessly across his back.
“Have you and Dad…”
“I’ve been waiting for this conversation since you were a kid,” he admitted. He
sighed and raked a hand through his hair, drawing his legs up into a lotus
position to better support Max and give Chuck his entire, unwavering attention.
“Ask me. I won’t tell you anything you might not want to hear, so you’re going
to have to suck it up and ask me flat out whatever you want to know. I’ll spare
you details, but I’ll be honest. All right?”
Chuck nodded.
Uncle Scott nodded back, back straightening.
Chuck swallowed, gathering his courage. He didn’t know where to even start. He
knew from personal experience just how complicated that sort of relationship
was. And he wasn’t entirely certain he even wanted to know. But, if his uncle
was willing to tell him, he was willing to risk it. After all, it wasn’t as if
his father would be forthcoming. Not even on Chuck’s former deathbed. The
reminder made him shiver and he fixed his gaze upon his uncle. “How long?”
Scott sighed. “Your dad and I...we’ve always had a bit of an odd relationship.
Very unconventional, certainly offputting for plenty of people. We’ve always
been close, but even when we were young, it was obvious if there was ever a
pair of brothers you could fulfill certain fantasies with, we were it. And
people tried.” He flagged a hand, waving away any further questions or comments
that may follow. “We had our moments - we were wild kids - but things didn’t
really come to a head until after your mother died.” He said it gently, but it
still stung. Any reminder of the loss of his mother tended to reopen the wound
and his uncle gave him all the time he needed to process the renewed loss
before continuing.
“He’d lost so much, there was the very real chance we might lose you...He was
angry and hurt and it broke my heart to see him that way. Your dad’s patient
and professional, but even he can be pushed.” He sighed. “I knew if I didn’t
push him, he’d kill himself keeping it all in. So I did, and we fought. And
then...We consoled each other. After, we did what we always did. We let it go.”
“Just like that?” Chuck asked, interrupting him.
Scott nodded. “Just like that. Your dad and I, we’ve had a rough go of it for a
long time and we decided as kids we weren’t going to let fuck ups, no matter
how small alter the course of our destinies. We got really good at it.”
Chuck nodded, swallowing slightly.
“Stacker came ‘round. You got better. We moved to Alaska. And got Lucky.” He
grinned, smile widening when Chuck laughed softly. It was an old family joke
that still made them smile, even at their lowest and Chuck appreciated the
lightening of the conversational mood. It helped him relax and reminded him of
why he was asking in the first place.
“The drift in adult dragons is intense,” he continued. “When we first
experienced it...A lot of people had black outs, or got sick - there’s
something about an established, mature dragon sharing it’s mental space with
you without the bond newborn dragons create that just makes the entire process
an ordeal. Wouldn’t change it for the world, and you get used to it, but it’s
still not as smooth as what you and Herc have with Striker.”
And of course he’d know. He and Herc had drifted a lot when Chuck had been
young and in training. His father switching back and forth between them,
drifting - apparently - half way with Chuck, and fully with Uncle Scott.
“For your father and I, the drift brought everything rushing to the fore and
we…”
“Couldn’t help yourselves?” Chuck suggested.
“I suppose you could say it like that. Although, in all honesty, it was more
than some animalistic compulsion. For the first time in our lives, we could
actually feel how we felt about one another. Saw everything. No secret unburied
with the adult dragons. You go in all or nothing and you come out the other
side or you don’t.”
“Did Dad…” he began and stopped himself. He didn’t need to know the answer to
that. It was unfair to everyone he loved to ask it, and he could see the relief
in his uncle’s eyes when he abruptly shifted conversational gears. “When did
Stacker get involved? Was it the both of you from the start?”
“It was, and it wasn’t. We weren’t initially assigned to the same Shatterdomes.
And when we were, we were on alternating shifts so it took a while before we
got to see each other through dragon sight. Once we had, we had no idea what we
were looking at.”
“Stacker glowed for you?”
“Brighter than the sun. It was like being blinded.”
“It wasn’t that way for me,” he admitted, wondering if it meant his
relationship was somehow worth less.
“You were a kid,” his uncle consoled him. “According to the dragons, at that
age there’s still plenty of time to adapt. Yancy and Raleigh were Rangers, a
part of a Jaeger. They could have died at any time. Sorry,” he added when Chuck
flinched at the reminder of how he’d almost lost them. “But it was true. And as
long as you were so young, your soul could have survived the loss. You would
have felt like a part of you was gone, like you couldn’t achieve what you’d
spent your whole life striving for, no matter how accomplished you became. But
you’d have survived. Grown up, moved on, made connections. They would have
paled in comparison to what you could have had, and you may have had a
difficult time of it, but you still could have found some measure of
happiness.”
“But you couldn’t?”
“I don’t know if we could or couldn’t. Herc and Angela were certainly designed
for one another. But I’d never found anyone who could make me feel like...Your
father was the only one who saw something in me. And he pushed me our whole
lives to be better. To not let it drag me down. And when he needed some of that
back, I gave it to him, freely, happily. We were already friends with Stacker
and Tamsin. So when the whole thing came up...At first Stacker and your dad
were against it.”
Chuck’s brows rose.
“Oh yeah.” He laughed. “Herc thought it was too soon and didn’t want to drag
you into anything - let alone something so permanent. Stacker thought in the
line of work we were in it wouldn’t be appropriate - he’s always been dead set
on the rules when he could help it. But Tamsin and I wore them down, and one
too many close calls later...Stacker was a parent himself. And after everything
with Onibaba and Tokyo, he’d needed the company. After that first night...we
all knew we were kidding ourselves to fight it and we entered into a
relationship the next morning. And we’ve been together ever since. Without fail
or straying.”
Chuck did the math quickly in his head - it left him feeling a little light
headed. “Nine years.”
“Ten soon enough,” his uncle replied, smiling.
“And you let me believe…”
“It was better that way. Your dad had you and Stacker had Mako and we thought
it’d be easier on both of you to have that stability.”
“But-”
“I had the people I loved. I knew my love was returned, and I was never denied
access to either of them. It was all I needed, all I’ve ever needed, really.”
“And then I met the Beckets.”
“And then you met the Beckets.”
“Did all the dragons know?”
“Oh they knew. They enjoyed the hell out of watching the three of you interact,
and shared that joy with the rest of us whenever one of us was around to
listen.”
Chuck groaned.
“It was cute.”
“Everyone knew, but me!” he moaned, a hand over his face.
“You were too young. And before you fight me on that, please take a moment to
remember what we discussed about how you’d have survived better.”
Chuck wisely kept his mouth shut.
“Your relationship had to be natural. It had to grow in its own time. And in
the beginning, when we found out, we were...understandably concerned. Your Dad
and I didn’t want that for you - the confusion and the struggle of it. Stacker
didn’t think it was fair for the Beckets. But, it was what it was and we all
just had to be patient and let it sort itself.”
“And then I mucked it up.”
“You didn’t muck anything up. You were young and in love and no one faults you
for any of it. But, Yancy and Raleigh - being older - knew that if you were
going to be happy, they’d have to let you go. You had to have the chance to
really live before you gave it all up for them. If you hadn’t, Chuck, you’d
have regretted it the rest of your life and it would have poisoned your
relationship. Sometimes a little hurt is necessary to grow, and it healed over
far sooner and much cleaner than any long term bitterness and regret would
have, that much I know for certain.”
“I would have stayed with them.”
“We know, and so did they. Which was why they did what they had to. They loved
you too much to let you suffer for their own misfortunes.”
Chuck nodded. “I never hated them, even after. I missed them all the time. So
much so, it physically hurt.”
“I know,” his uncle replied softly. “Your father told me. It hurt him so much
to have to sit by and leave you to it, but there was nothing we could do but
trust that it would all turn out all right in the end. We knew it was for your
own good and we had to believe in that, or we would have never been able to
move on ourselves and support you the way you needed.”
“I love them so much, Uncle Scott.”
“I know, sprog.” He reached out to wrap his hand about Chuck’s forearm, giving
him a supportive squeeze. “I know.”
“Are you happy?” he asked quietly.
“Happier than I ever thought I could be.”
“Don’t regret all the things you never got to have?”
“Why waste time on regret when there is so much potential all around you?”
“What about kids?”
“What are you talking about?” he replied, hand moving to grip Chuck’s elbow.
“I’ve got me the best kid there ever was.”
Chuck reached up to clasp his Uncle’s forearm. “Thanks, Uncle Scott.”
Scott nodded.
“I love you.”
His uncle’s face shifted from startled, to surprised, to happy. “Love ya, too,
kid.” Chuck had never felt it lacking, but every now and again, he knew, it was
nice to hear.
“I love you,” was the first thing he said to Yancy and Raleigh when they were
finally allowed to visit him. They’d been laid up with decompression sickness
themselves, and had taken a little longer to recover due to the stress they’d
undergone when informed - by Gipsy because no one else had wanted to tell them
- that Chuck had died.
Yancy smiled, easing himself down to kiss Chuck gently. “Love you, too,” he
said against his lips.
“Love you more,” Raleigh replied, dropping into Chuck and kissing him soundly.
By the time they parted lips, Chuck was dizzy. As he suspected Raleigh was as
well, due to how quickly he dropped his brow against Chuck’s.
Yancy eased himself down behind Chuck’s pillow mound, drawing Chuck’s head into
his lap. His hand smoothed through Chuck’s hair, stroking his scalp. Raleigh
stretched out beside Chuck, dropping his own head over the Australian’s chest
just above his heart, and closing his eyes.
They remained like that for a long time, silent and entangled. Unwilling to
release one another or break the moment with insufficient words. Then Raleigh
turned his face, pressing it into Chuck’s chest, nearly smothering. He pressed
a kiss to his pec, before shifting, chin settling just above Chuck’s heart.
“Don’t you ever do that again.”
“No plans to, love.” He reached out to stroke him, losing his fingers in soft
blond hair, stroking his thumb against skin aged by combat. Raleigh was young,
but there were times he could look twice his age without trying. Lost to the
horrors and haunting misery that came with the job. “Striker’s already read me
the riot act. Apparently, we’re going to have a kid?”
Yancy flushed, but Raleigh just grinned at him. “Courtesy of Jaz,” he
confirmed.
“God help us,” Yancy mumbled above them.
“Do you two even want kids?” he asked. “We’ve never talked about it.”
“That’s because until recently, you were a kid,” Raleigh teased, kissing him
playfully.
“Fine sight that makes you, you cradle robbers.”
Yancy looked slightly abashed.
Raleigh just grinned at him, completely unrepentant.
“Do you not want kids?” Yancy asked.
“I do, actually,” Chuck replied. “I just...hadn’t given it much thought.” He
shrugged. “Didn’t seem really feasible between our careers and all the male
parts involved.”
Yancy smiled. “Jaz actually volunteered her eggs.”
“And her uterus,” added Raleigh, with some measure of delight.
“She thought you’d want the baby to look like us, and she was pretty adamant
that if we were going to have any kids, we’d keep it in the family. Especially
given our hoarding situation.”
Chuck laughed. “Finally asked about that, did you?”
“I am a mighty fine piece of dragon horde,” Raleigh remarked, stretching
languidly.
“Everyone is aware the likelihood of any child of ours not ending up with a
dragon of their own and further expanding the family is so low as to be near
impossible, right?”
His lovers grinned at him. It was so familiar a gesture, that for a moment
Chuck was completely lost to it. Forgetting in that moment everything else that
had occurred up until it, and all the hurdles still in their path after it.
“Why else do you think she wants in on it?” Raleigh replied. “It’s all about
Legacy status.”
“Mako offered as well, but they’ll be needing a child of their own, and so we
figured we’d pony up there and everyone breaks out even,” Yancy added.
“Sound strategy,” Chuck agreed.
Yancy and Raleigh stayed with him until Tamsin and Tendo arrived to usher them
back to their own beds in hospital. They weren’t completely healed, but they -
unlike Chuck - were healed enough to not need to remain with their dragon. As
injured as Chuck was, there was no safe way to remove him from Striker’s
shadow, and his dragon had not left him since long before he woke. He slept
rarely, Chuck knew, only daring to rest when Chuck was in the company of those
who loved him most. And generally, when he did take rest, it had more to do
with Lucky or Gipsy’s presence than any other Rangers.
Surprisingly, Tamsin returned, though she kept a safe and respectable distance,
leaning into one of the foundation posts that marked the dragon line with a
visually recognizable focal point. PPDC dragons weren’t nearly as territorial
as they were in the wild, but it was still best for everyone’s safety to cordon
off sections which warned against approaching closely enough to be considered
intruding. Dragons were incredibly private by nature, and especially possessive
and protective of their Rangers. Many of whom could often be found in their
company, or drowsing away in the shade of their bodies. An unconscious Ranger
was a vulnerable protectorate, and despite their civility, even PPDC dragons
could be incited by a breach of what they deemed acceptable distance.
When their Rangers were injured or dying - as in Chuck’s case - they were often
coiled very tightly about them, the better to shield them. And even the press
of humanity from across the dome could be unbearable.
Coyote was with her, hovering over her in a way that indicated a distinct level
of concern, though she didn’t outright attempt to dissuade her. Her head was
raised as high as her neck would allow however, which was to dragons a physical
representation of the common phrase ‘I’ve got my eye on you’. Striker stared
back, eyes gleaming brightly - not yet in challenge, so Chuck stroked what he
could reach to keep him calm.
“Bit of a trip, isn’t it?” she said. When Chuck didn’t respond, she added,
“Coming back from the dead.”
He pushed himself up, frowning slightly. He must have made a pained noise
because Coyote shifted over Tamsin, lowering her head and raising her spines
slightly. Striker lifted his own head, nosing Chuck in the back to help him sit
up more comfortably. Once he was up though, Striker rested his head to the fall
of cushions so that Chuck could lay back against him comfortably. The curve of
his snout a perfect fit, and the warmth that radiated from his scales soothing
to the point of relief against Chuck’s sore muscles.
“Thought you made a recovery,” he said, a hand to his side in an attempt to
keep his ribs from floating away.
“After I died,” she replied. “Stacks…” She shifted her weight and leaned more
heavily into the column. “Somehow managed to keep it a secret. Probably because
he and Mako were the only ones Coyote would let close enough in all the chaos.”
She drew a hand through her hair, fingers briefly lingering against the ragged
scars against the back of her head and neck. Coyote lowered her head further,
until it rested just above Tamsin’s, who reached up to pat her snout fondly.
“But I died for at least a minute.”
Chuck licked his lips, finding his mouth suddenly dry. “Then you…”
She nodded and leaned back to sit over Coyote’s snout as it was lowered and
then raised. Striker rumbled in approval, accepting the gesture and exhaling
small plumes of smoke from both nostrils that somehow brought a bit of dampness
to the air around them, easing Chuck’s breathing. A dragon whose Ranger was
aloft - especially as precariously as Tamsin (though it was never a danger to
the Ranger in and of itself) and given her injury, adding even more
vulnerability to the action - was a dragon who would not engage. It was a sign
of trust and respect, as much as it was of reassurance and protection. Her legs
hung over the edge of Coyote’s snout, feet barely meeting the ridge of her lip,
which hid fiercely sharp teeth. She didn’t swing them, though from her posture,
it was a near thing.
Chuck tried to get up, pulled something - much to Striker’s growl of
displeasure - and slowly eased himself back into the comfort of his own dragon.
“Did you…” He exhaled heavily, not quite sure where to start. “Did Coyote call
you back?”
“Did Striker call you back?” she asked coolly.
He frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
She nodded again. “I’m no judge of what makes someone decide to turn around
when they’re two feet in the grave already. I can’t honestly explain it to
myself. But, I do know how…” She paused, struggling for a word that could
somehow encompass the magnitude of tumultuous feelings dying and coming back
left within a soul.
“Fucked up?” Chuck suggested.
She smiled slightly. “Fucked up it can leave you.”
He rubbed at his arms, feeling cold despite the heat of Striker against his
back. Striker growled and released another set of heated plumes.
“I know the fear that won’t leave, that’s buried deep in your heart where you
can’t even feel it except at night when it gets dark and suddenly you can’t
move again. I know the terror of wanting to scream and not being able to
because not a single part of your body will respond to you.”
Tamsin, Coyote warned, gently.
“I know the desperation that makes your heart beat so quickly you feel like
it’s going to burst and bleed out everywhere. And knowing, knowing that you’ll
feel every moment of it.”
Striker growled deeply, the sound mirrored - surprisingly - by Coyote.
“I know death, Chuck. And I know what it feels like to know it’s come for you
when you don’t want to go, and the struggle just to get back. And I know how
much it haunts you and leaves you open and wounded even when everyone around
you is there.”
Both dragons roared loudly. Tamsin’s hands gripped Coyote against the nostrils,
her face contorting in pain at the abrupt motion. Pain Chuck shared as he felt
all the air rush from him in one fell swoop. The pain at least, brought both
dragons abruptly back to their senses, making cooing, whining noises, trapped
between an instinct to comfort and soothe and the pain over reminder of the
inevitable raking at their very souls. For dragons, Chuck knew, had the most
beautiful of souls.
They nuzzled their Rangers, but the damage had been done. They were still
catching their breath when Dad and Stacker came to a running, stumbling halt,
dropping beside them, faces drained of color, and hands trembling. Chuck had
never seen the Marshall so lost, and his dad...his dad, he never wanted to see
that look on his face ever again.
Ghost drift, he thought as he was dragged into his father’s embrace - despite
his own injuries. His eyes met Tamsin’s across the way. She was smoothing a
hand down Stacker’s spine, murmuring to him softly. Chuck didn’t have the
energy required to comfort his father, and so snuggled close like the child his
father still often saw him as, and let himself be held.
It was a while before any of them had steady enough nerves to confront what had
happened, and Chuck thought he may have even drifted off for a while there.
“You don’t understand,” Tamsin said, and he knew he’d drifted off, because he
couldn’t recall what had been said for her to respond the way she had, voice
hoarse, and emotional. “We need to talk about it. You have to let us talk about
it!” She sounded almost desperate, and Chuck turned a groggy head to see her,
back to him, supported by one of Stacker’s hands to her back as she faced off
against Coyote. “I have to talk about it! I can’t-I can’t live like this
anymore! Pretending it didn’t happen! And I won’t let him-I can’t let him make
the same mistakes! I know you don’t like it, Coyote, but, I need to do this.
Please...let me do this.”
Coyote made a displeased sound, spines quivering in upset. She must have been
talking to them mind to mind - or Striker didn’t deem the conversation
appropriate to share - because Stacker held up a placating hand, exhaled
heavily in what sounded an awful lot like defeat and said, “She’s right,
Coyote. It’s over.”
Coyote’s neck angled back sharply in response, teeth bared in instinctual
distaste, and hissed, ruff quivering.
“Hasn’t she suffered enough?”
His comment brought the dragon up short, her whole body visibly deflating, eyes
wide and sorrowful.
“No,” Tamsin said, stroking Coyote’s nose. “No, I don’t blame you. It isn’t
your fault. I wasn’t ready, and you knew that.” A pause and then, “There’s
nothing to forgive.” She leaned in, hugging Coyote against the snout and
whispering, “Thank you” so softly Chuck wouldn’t have been able to hear it, had
the positioning of both dragons not amplified the acoustic effects.
Tamsin scratched affectionately over Coyote’s nose, and turned to face them
again. “You awake, Chuck?”
“Yup.”
“You ready to talk about it?”
“Nope!”
She smiled. “Want me to get Yancy and Raleigh?”
“And Uncle Scott. I don’t want to have this conversation more than once.”
She nodded, but it was Stacker who opened his comm and said, “Mr. Choi, alert
medical please. We’re going to need the Beckets in the Dragon Bay again.”
“Yes, sir,” Tendo’s cool voice chirped over the line.
***** Act III *****
Chuck stretched with a groan, feeling his spine pop. It felt damn good to
finally be up and on his feet again. To be allowed to move. To extend himself
and exert himself, and exercise. He rocked up onto his toes, back arching
deeply and fingers bowing. As he released the motion, arms slipped around his
middle and a blond head pressed a kiss to his neck. Chuck grinned.
“Shouldn’t you be at physical therapy, mate?”
Raleigh moaned and pressed his face into his shoulder. “I hate, loathe and
despise physical therapy,” he complained.
Chuck wrapped his arms about Raleigh’s and rubbed his forearms. “You know you
need t’ go, Raleigh,” he cajoled, sympathetic. He disliked physical therapy
himself, but there was no way they’d ever recover their dexterity and agility
without it. Their dragons had already recovered, and while the Breach had been
- for all intents and purposes - closed, that was no reason to drop their
guard. They hadn’t known how it’d opened to begin with and couldn’t be sure
another wouldn’t open in the absence of the first, and that they wouldn’t be
faced with new, far more devastating Kaiju than ever before. Stacker needed
everyone on point and in shape. They had a duty to their world, to its
inhabitants, to their dragons and most importantly, to themselves.
Raleigh heaved a sigh, then seemed to mysteriously gain weight.
Chuck bit back the laugh as Yancy’s body rocked them all forward, his own arms
sweeping about them and his face pressing into Raleigh’s shoulder. “Uncle,” he
groaned.
“You know, you’d think neither of you have had to go through this before,” he
chided, tangling the fingers of one hand with one of Yancy’s. “What happened to
all your ‘experience’ putting me to shame?”
Raleigh’s hips canted between them as a means to bump him, since his arms and
legs were otherwise occupied. The former full and the latter wholly engrossed
in keeping them all upright. “By all rights, it should have mattered. We should
have owned you in this!”
“Instead,” Yancy sighed. “All it’s doing is reminding us how much it hurt the
first time.”
“You were injured worse the first time,” he informed them, leaning back
suddenly, to give them something to feel accomplished about. The three of them
rocked back, but Yancy held firm and they merely ended up leaning into one
another heavily in the opposite direction.
Yancy’s arms tightened around them. “How’re you feeling, Chuck?” he asked,
stretching forward to kiss him against the temple. Chuck closed his eyes at the
brush of his lips, savoring the moment. He’d learned to do as much from Tamsin.
A way to help ease the foreign feeling that remained hollowed out within him
and always would. The touch of death and dragon soul. The truth to the old
adage, ‘True love conquers all.’
When Striker had felt him die, he’d reached out to him instinctively. Chuck
hadn’t been ready to go and had reached back. If they hadn’t had such a deep
connection it might never have worked. As it was, Chuck and Striker had a deep,
unique bond, even among dragons and their Rangers. They hadn’t known when they
were young, just how famous their survival had been among the dragon community.
What it had meant in reference to the rest of their lives. They’d lived through
Scissure’s attack, survived the furious scrambled defense, and clutched to life
together buried alive in a fissure for two days. They’d been together the week
after, while Chuck was in the hospital, Striker secretly tucked away at his
bedside. They’d moved to Kodiak Island together, where Chuck had slept curled
about Striker’s egg, safe beneath Lucky’s bulk. Striker had hatched and looked
for him, refusing all other options in favor of seeking him out and he had gone
to him. They’d grown up together in Shatterdomes around the world. Meeting new
people and learning new things; best friends and brothers. The bond that had
been formed between them had extended so deeply that Striker had found him in
the haze beyond death, in the space where his soul was trapped. Had reached out
and rescued him, drawn him close and sheltered him, and in so doing, completed
the endless cycle of their lives. Lives, which were and had always been twined
so tightly together, that the universe had even saw fit to give them mates who
were bonded, so that they would never have to choose or separate for even the
smallest, most insignificant reason.
“Chuck,” Raleigh called softly, nosing him gently against the curve of his jaw.
“Baby, come back.”
Chuck inhaled sharply, feeling the ache in his chest he’d never really
acclimate to, but could at the very least, tolerate. He would have to after
all, there would be no filling it.
He blinked, head rocking back and started when his body sank. But hands were
there to stroke him, bodies guiding him calmly down into a tangle of limbs. He
could feel his heart thudding in his chest, pulse pounding so loudly, it
weighed heavily in his head. He dropped it weakly, feeling his hands trembling.
Hands curled about them, bringing them up to kiss along his knuckles. Lips
pressed similarly to his brow, kisses deeper and more grounding as they worked
their way over his eyes, the crook of his nose, up his temple, across his
forehead and into his hair.
The drumming in his body slowed, breath slowly evening out. He closed his eyes,
listening to Raleigh’s voice. Whenever he had an attack, Raleigh would sing.
Chuck was never quite conscious of what he was singing. The words were in
French and by the time he was coherent enough to recognize them as such, he
couldn’t tell how long Raleigh had been singing for. Yancy would hum along, the
vibrations in his chest lulling Chuck back from the edge slowly. He always
seemed to know just the right time to begin to sing along, and Chuck would
focus on the steady rise and fall of his voice, the deep, echoing inhales that
rocked him gently.
Raleigh asked Yancy something, and Yancy replied, but Chuck didn’t know what
they were saying.
“English,” he rasped, knowing that much.
“Learn French,” Raleigh teased, sliding against him. Whenever Chuck had an
attack, they would touch him only as he allowed, and the rub of Raleigh’s
shoulder was both a comfort - a reminder that he was not alone - and an
inquiry, seeking permission to move closer. Chuck held out his arm, one hand
clutching Yancy’s shirt so tightly he couldn’t feel it, he noticed belatedly.
Raleigh slipped into his space, laying his head beneath Chuck’s and sliding his
arms around him. They were mostly in Yancy’s lap, the elder Becket having Chuck
settled in the hook of one leg, the other stretched out. He shifted to maneuver
it about Raleigh, locking him into their embrace.
Chuck released Yancy’s shirt and tried to flex his fingers, flinching when they
refused to respond. The rush of terror shook his bones and his stomach leapt
into his throat, and then Raleigh’s hands were about his, rubbing the tension
away in smooth, practiced motions. Yancy spoke to him - in beautifully lilting
French, despite Chuck’s complaint - lips to his temple. The French rolled over
his skin and teased the hairs against his neck. The complexity of trying to
piece together what his lover was saying distracting him. Raleigh’s massaging
hands took care of the rest.
He dropped boneless and exhausted into them, every part of him wrapped up in
them, cradled close and treasured. When he’d died, they’d been inconsolable and
his return to them had come with a certain new twist to their relationship. One
which, his frequent attacks only helped bolster. He’d be upset by it and all
the coddling, if he didn’t need it so much. As it was, he figured, his priority
was to get better - however long that took - and they could sort the rest out
later. His lovers had even said as much. They’d known what it had been like to
be held close in a dragon’s soul. Protected from the pain and horror of death
in the shelter of Gipsy’s mind. They couldn’t relate entirely, but they were
familiar enough with the situation that Chuck’s difficult recovery did not
surprise them at any turn. They merely kept close to him, quietly supporting
and consoling him, and never once bringing it up afterward. Allowing him the
privacy he needed to work through it, patiently nearby whenever he needed them,
as they all worked toward closure together.
They hadn’t had sex. Not the kind Chuck had so desperately wanted for so long.
Neither had brought it up, and neither had instigated anything, much to Chuck’s
continued annoyance and relief. He slept between them at night, where they
could shield him from the nightmares. Or draw him close and secure him in
reality when they could not. It should have been suffocating, but in truth,
Chuck had never felt more loved in his life. Yancy and Raleigh were patient and
gentle and so very supportive. They wouldn’t even let him berate himself or
apologize when he felt so frustrated with himself he became nearly violent.
They didn’t let him hurt himself, instead, giving him the outlets he needed to
work through his frustration. Taking him to the kwoon, the gym, to therapy, and
when all else failed, giving themselves over to his advances, and saying
nothing and holding him close and stroking him when he ended up having an
attack midway and being unable to finish what he’d started. He loved them more
than he’d ever been aware the word ‘love’ could even properly define. There was
nothing more he wanted than to be with them truly, wholly, entirely again. Mind
and body and soul, and all the little parts of him that never fit anywhere
else, and may never again. He wanted the feel of them against him, and the rush
of desire, and to know he was driving them out of their minds with want. That
they weren’t being cautious, careful, watchful and ready. Wanted them to give
themselves over completely, with no doubts, hesitations or regrets.
He wanted more than broken moments ruling his life. They deserved more. And so
did he.
“I want to try again,” he said, knowing they wouldn’t need clarification.
“Okay,” Raleigh agreed. “But, will you let us-”
Chuck shook his head desperately, eyes closed.
“Okay. It’s okay, Chuck,” he soothed, stroking down his side and tangling their
fingers together.
“All right,” Yancy added. “But, no tying us up. We need our hands free just in
case.” He pressed a kiss to Chuck’s temple. “We’ll take it slow, alright?” He
nosed Chuck’s hair. “You’re in charge. When you say-”
“Actually…” He swallowed. “I think...I think we need a safeword.” He looked
down where his hand was clasped about Raleigh’s and stroked his fingertips over
the blond’s knuckles. “I don’t think...I don’t think I’m going to be able to
not say it...And you always listen to me-”
“Of course we do!” Raleigh replied, pushing himself up enough that he could
look Chuck in the eye. “If you want to stop, Chuck-”
“We stop,” Yancy said. “No questions, no answers, no judgement.”
“I know,” Chuck replied, voice trembling slightly. “But, I don’t always…” He
exhaled. “I panic and I say it, but I don’t always mean it. And then you stop
and I-”
“Have an attack,” Raleigh finished, surprised by making the connection.
Chuck nodded.
“All right,” Yancy said, picking up the thread. “What are we going to use?”
Chuck looked down at the pair of bodies stretched out before him on either
side. Neither was tied up, as they’d agreed it would be counterproductive if
Chuck had an attack. But they lay as he directed. Arms stretched up, hands
closed tight about the pillows that had been shoved nearly off the bed. Their
legs extended, relaxed and slightly splayed.
“Okay,” Chuck said, taking a deep breath. “Rules.”
They nodded.
“Until I touch your wrists, keep them up as if you were tied down. I’m not sure
I-”
“Understood,” Yancy said, before he could potentially trigger himself.
“Affirmative,” Raleigh replied, with a bit of a smile, all encouragement and
love.
Chuck nodded, gathering himself. “If you’re uncomfortable and you want to stop
for any reason, say ‘Aerie’ and we’ll stop immediately. But otherwise,
disregard the actual word ‘stop’ or ‘no’.”
“Alright,” they agreed.
Chuck wound his hands together anxiously. “If I flinch or…”
“Keep going,” they replied, echoing their earlier agreement.
“You’ll settle or you’ll safeword,” Yancy added.
Chuck nodded. “It’s not personal. I love you more than anything. But…it’s just
going to take some time, and I…” He bit his lip, at a sudden loss for words.
Raleigh drew a leg up and rocked a knee against his side. His arms, Chuck
noted, didn’t so much as twitch.
“We understand, Baby.”
“We love you too and we don’t ever want to hurt you again.”
“We’re all adults, we’re all consenting...you ready to start?” His eyes seemed
bluer than usual, and it took Chuck a moment to realize there was genuine
excitement in them. It wasn’t even hope; Raleigh knew and understood and
accepted. He loved and wanted and welcomed, and the smile he gave him, mirrored
by Yancy who shook his head a moment later with a chuckle, spoke of nothing but
complete trust and adoration.
He felt the anxiety calm in his stomach as he rocked up, settling on his raised
heels. “Yeah,” he said, smiling himself. “Ready.”
“All I’m saying is,” Chuck said, arms thrown wide. “It’s been months, Uncle
Scott. I know, and I’m okay with it, and apparently, I was the only one who
didn’t know, so…” He smirked. “Quit holding back, would ya?”
His uncle laughed, throwing an arm around him and dragging him into a hug.
“You’re going to be the end of me, kid.”
Chuck grinned, even though he was aware his uncle would have otherwise said
‘death of me’ had Operation Pitfall not occurred, and more over, had it not
left him in such a vulnerable state. But he was getting used to people
adjusting for him, and was learning to accept and appreciate the gestures for
the love and concern behind them, instead of taking offense at the perceived
need for them, and his personal, fervent disagreement that such a need existed
at all. Aware as he was that it was utter bullshit. It would take him a long
while to square it all away with himself, he was positive. But then, he’d
always been his greatest, worst, and most detrimental critic.
“But what an end, eh?”
Scott laughed and pressed a kiss to his hairline.
Chuck had thought it would take longer. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought so.
Perhaps it was a combination of experience from his childhood, and what he’d
known up until then of his uncle’s personality. As well as the relationship
between his uncle and his father. So it was as much a surprise to him as it was
to his dad when his uncle tripped, dipped and soundly kissed his elder brother
right in front of him in the middle of a review of Striker’s stores.
Herc had been so surprised, he’d gripped Scott’s shoulders, one leg hilariously
caught high against the younger’s hip, eyes wide as Scott kissed him deeply.
He’d pulled away, grinning, and Chuck had - for the first time in his entire
life - witnessed the rosy flush of embarrassment overtake his father’s skin.
He’d laughed, further surprising his dad, who’d caught on rather quickly after,
gripped Scott by the shirt front and dragged him back into a more equal kiss.
While he’d known objectively the majority of his life that Stacker and his
father were involved, somehow he’d never pictured nor managed to witness an
affectionate exchange between them. It was almost laughable, but he was fairly
certain, if he thought back enough, he must have been under the impression that
they simply hadn’t needed any. Which in and of itself was improbable.
Especially as they’d been grown men in the middle of a war, the likes of which
had constantly thrown random, more elaborate curves at them. They’d never known
if the most recent time they saw one another would actually be the last. In
retrospect, they - and uncle Scott - had probably had copious amounts of sex.
He still couldn’t picture it, but what amazed him was how warm the sight of his
uncle and father kissing left him. It was the same bubbly contentment he’d had
as a child when he’d seen his parents together, and he realized suddenly, he’d
always known.
His mother could never be replaced, and he knew none of them would ever so much
as try. But, he also became aware of the fact that Uncle Scott had never needed
to find a place in Chuck’s life. He’d always had one. And with the loss of
Chuck’s mother, his Uncle had stepped right into the parental vacancy. Taking
on the work and responsibility of the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual
needs of his nephew, without question, request or regret. He had always been
nothing but loving, tender, affectionate and attentive. Even when Chuck had
been at his worst. And Chuck found it settled something within him to have
those bonds confirmed in the most concrete way.
It was still odd when he first witnessed Stacker kiss either of the elder
Hansen men. And Yancy and Raleigh had laughed themselves to pieces when Chuck
had brought them all the horrifying details. They’d consoled him, teasing him
the entire time, and he’d retaliated, first with words - that meant absolutely
nothing - and then with his body, which worked a whole lot better.
He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing Stacker Pentecost affectionate
with anyone so intimately. But, that was on him, and he’d live with it.
His own relationship was growing again, and Chuck reveled in it.
Every encounter, complete with rules and safeword - that they were using less
and less as time went by - was bringing them closer, more passionately
together. And Chuck looked forward to the day when he’d get to carry out the
promise he’d made to them outside the flightsuit room, before Operation
Pitfall.
He’d meant every word. And he’d meant to keep to his word. He still did. He’d
just had to take the long way around. For their parts, Yancy and Raleigh didn’t
seem to mind. Taking pleasure in every union, slowly growing more confident and
comfortable. Chuck would have their relationship back. He didn’t care how long
it took. It was more than worth the effort. And he could be damn patient -
though they were even more so.
The first time they all managed to get off, Chuck cried. Yancy and Raleigh were
quick to console him, but after realizing the tears were a release, had ended
up joining him instead. The three of them wiping at one another’s eyes and
laughing softly over their combined sentimentality.
The first time Yancy and Raleigh had been able to instigate an intimate
encounter without setting Chuck off, they’d all slept happily together in the
distinct bliss of contentment. They’d woken late the next morning and spent a
few lazy hours tangled together in the sheets, talking and joking and trading
long, dizzying kisses. They’d missed breakfast entirely and had wandered into
lunch late and laughing. Chuck had seen something ease in his father and
uncle’s eyes, their smiles just a bit more genuine than they’d been in a while.
As if relieved to see him healing in the only way they’d been unable to assist.
Chuck had dropped down across from them, flanked on either side by his own
sibling lovers and chatted away with a gusto he hadn’t wielded since before the
war began. They’d responded with appropriate mirth, but Chuck caught them later
embracing Yancy and Raleigh quietly in an offshoot of the main thoroughfare.
His lovers looked as relieved as his father and uncle had been earlier; so much
so in fact, that Chuck decided to keep the incident to himself. Smiling warmly
and snuggling close between them that night. Grateful just to have them in his
life, thankful to be the recipient of their generous love and tender care.
The first time Chuck didn’t safeword, his Becket Boys spent the rest of the
night pressing devotions into his skin. Words in multiple languages - not all
of which he spoke - breathed against his entire length, and bodies pressed
close. Limbs, appendages, gliding smoothly against his skin. They spent hours
making love to him without actually getting him off, and it was then that Chuck
knew he’d healed, good and proper. Which made the next step, to him, fairly
simple and straightforward.
When he first brought it up, both of his lovers seemed reluctant, but they
eventually agreed. Although, at their insistence, it was to happen naturally,
organically, when the time was right. Chuck didn’t know how much he agreed with
their stipulation, given his rather stellar progress, all told, but he was
willing to make the concession. Eager as he was to see it through. He loved
them, and anything they needed, if it was within his power to give to them, he
would. Even when he largely suspected that the situation had more to do with
their perceived interpretation of his needs. Which, while sweet, could be
frustrating as hell. Still, he loved them, and regardless of their reasons, he
could and would wait. As long as it took.
Chuck, you are looking well, Gipsy greeted him cheerfully as he wandered into
her pen.
“Thank you, Gipsy,” he replied. “I’m feeling well.”
It is good to see you walking so steadily, she added, lowering her head to
nuzzle him affectionately. Has all the pain gone?
He flagged a hand, answering her honestly. With dragons, honesty was all you
had, whether you liked it or not. They could tell the difference, and took it
as a personal affront when actively lied to. They didn’t understand the
necessity behind lying, and didn’t appreciate its use in general. Their
influence on their Rangers - who learned early on how to be truthful without
revealing too much - meant that as a whole, they were an openly opinionated
bunch. Though, they did have tact and training. Generally, one was only
entirely bare to one’s dragon, due to the drift keeping absolutely nothing
secret from them. Even if - as Chuck had learned the hard way - they could keep
as many secrets as they liked. In situations like Chuck’s - both a legacy
bearer and soul bound to another dragon’s Rangers - things got a little hazy.
He tended to treat all dragons like family. As a result those with whom he
interacted most, knew a great many things about him. Gipsy, likewise, knew what
Yancy and Raleigh knew - which was quite an intimate lot.
“It comes and goes.”
Are you currently in pain? she asked, head tilting. She’d be able to smell it
on him, of course, but sometimes strong medications messed with dragons
abilities and Chuck had been on quite a few in the last couple of months - as
had her own Rangers - though they were dwindling. Mostly, Rangers preferred to
cope with their pain in private, and soon they’d be as clean as they liked.
Even if currently, their medical regimen was less about pain management and
more to do with boosting their systems.
“No, Gipsy,” he replied, stroking beneath her jaw affectionately. “I’m fine, I
promise.”
She made a distinctly happy rumbling sound and nuzzled him more. Chuck smiled
and leaned into the attention. Striker and Gipsy had in the past few months
since Chuck’s death, been more openly affectionate with one another’s Rangers.
As mates, the treasures of the other became their own, and so, they had taken
to considering both pairs of Rangers - Hansens and Beckets indiscriminately -
their own. They spoke directly to all four of them now, which Chuck had found
his father was actually quite familiar with, as Coyote had done similarly in
his own situation, some years prior. It still occasionally startled the elder
Hansen when Gipsy would appear from nowhere to nuzzle him. And he always
laughed, patting her gently but firmly, and murmuring fondly.
“I think we’ve been replaced, Yance,” Raleigh drawled. Chuck opened his eyes to
find his lover standing across from him, arms folded, but a grin on his face.
“By which one?” asked Yancy, from atop Gipsy’s slender back.
“Both of them! We’re absolutely washed up. Just let them have each other! They
look better together anyway.”
Gipsy snorted, tail flicking him against the backside. Raleigh rocked with the
motion, laughing heartily. She scooped a wing, herding him closer and tilting
her head to nuzzle him in turn. His arms went about her as best he could manage
and he hugged tight.
“Now I’m feeling distinctly left out,” Yancy commented as he swaggered toward
them, having ridden Gipsy’s tail down.
Soft plumes rose from her nose, but her slender neck lifted her head to press
the length of her snout against him.
Yancy made a soft noise - both prepared and accustomed to the greeting - as she
connected, nearly bowling him over.
I love you all equally, she told them firmly, looking down at them once they
were all together.
“Even Chuck?” Raleigh asked, eyebrow raised.
Yes, even Chuck.
She gave a soft sound of contentment and wrapped around them.
“I’m never going to get used to this,” Raleigh joked. “Are we the dowry or are
you?”
Chuck shrugged. “I’m the one with the male dragon, but their society works the
other way, so I really have no idea, love.”
“I was joking.”
“I know,” he replied, leaning in to kiss him. “But, it’s still an interesting
question.”
It was there; Chuck could see it in their eyes. Neither said it of course, they
likely felt some combination of not having the right and not wanting to hurt
him. But, he was used to it by now. It was there in the drift, after all. And
when his father or uncle looked at him just so. Just like your mother.
He smiled at them, leaning close to brush shoulders, letting them know he
wasn’t offended, or hurt by the comparison. He loved his mother, and as much as
the mention of her could hurt, he was always proud when the connection was
made. Always happy to know some part of her lived on in him somehow, some way.
He only hoped he could pass it on to his own kids. She deserved to be a part of
the hoard after all. She’d begun it.
“Who gets the dragons in the divorce?” Raleigh teased, causing Gipsy to snort.
There will be no divorce, she informed him archly.
“Oh? What if we get tired of him? He’s a bit of a brat, you know.”
Chuck snorted, dropping forward to wrap both arms around Raleigh and lean
heavily into him. He kissed him and Raleigh kissed back around his smile.
“He’s so demanding,” he added, arms looping around Chuck’s middle. He kissed
him again, and while it was less chaste, it was no less playful. “So virile.”
One would presume that was a good quality.
“You complaining?” Chuck teased.
“Mmm...I love it when you wear me out.”
Yancy sighed, reaching out to grip them by the shoulders. “Looks like the
kiddies need to be put to bed. We’ll be back, Gipsy.”
She looked at them with what was the dragon equivalent of a broad grin, though
none of her fangs were actually showing. Bed them well, Yancy.
“Oh, I intend to.” He dragged them close, wrapping an arm about either of them
and directing them toward the exit. “Behave!” he chastised, when they both
reached for his pants.
“Come on, Yance!” Raleigh whined. “We don’t need a bed.” He squirmed eagerly
against his brother’s side. “Let’s roll in some hay!”
Chuck - who had both arms wrapped around Yancy - stretched to include Raleigh
in his grasp. “I’m down for a little play in the pens.”
Yancy groaned, but he was already hard, so they had him exactly where they
wanted him. “I swear, one of these days, I’m going to say no to you,” he
replied, from beneath the hand he’d dropped to his face.
“But today is not that day,” Raleigh teased, already backing up, luring them
both into a stray stack.
Chuck assisted Raleigh in bringing Yancy down, the pair of them turning and
wrapping him up in their arms as they dropped back into the neat pile. Yancy
laughed as he went down, landing on top of them.
“Everyone okay?” he asked, as they launched a dual assault on his neck.
“I’ll be better…” Raleigh murmured between kisses. “When your cock is out.”
Chuck’s hands had already made quick work of Yancy’s pants, and he drew him
out, pumping slowly. Yancy moaned deeply in response, hips rocking into the
attention with enough weight to pin them down.
“Oh Baby,” Raleigh groaned, smoothing a hand down Chuck’s side. “I love it when
you do that.” His hand turned, following the contours of Chuck’s body to rub
over the bulge of his erection in his pants.
Chuck gave a whimper as Yancy’s hand found its way into his pants at the same
moment, fingers splaying broadly against his cheek. He tightened his his grip
around Yancy teasingly, and received a return squeeze.
Yancy’s mouth found its way to his neck, and Raleigh returned to Yancy’s, both
their hands traveling over Chuck’s body. Yancy’s shoving deeper down and
Raleigh’s stroking with more promise.
Since Chuck’s right arm was pinned between them, and already had Yancy in a
firm grim, he stretched the other out from beneath his own, so he could run his
hand over the expanse of his back. His fingers brushed Raleigh’s and they began
to tease Yancy in earnest. Chuck released him for a moment to lick his hand,
before reaching for him again. Yancy stifled the appreciative sound against his
skin, but nipped him before rutting against him.
Raleigh moaned beside him and Chuck knew where Yancy’s other hand had gone.
Raleigh likewise had unzipped Chuck’s fly, his own hand making contact with
Chuck’s heated skin. Chuck released a moan of his own and circled his thumb
about the head of Yancy’s cock.
They moved as one, pleasuring each other slowly, despite the somewhat public
location. It was rare that anyone but other Rangers were in the pens - as
dragon care personnel were not as tolerated without a Ranger nearby. And most
Rangers chose to care for their own dragons when they were able. The dragons
themselves found the need for care ridiculous and had a not so secret dislike
for the crews invasive measures. Which meant most of the time the pen was being
cleaned, the dragons were out flying with at least one of their Rangers. They
had a habit of asking for their thanks to be communicated, but the whole affair
embarrassed them somewhat, and they did not care to be reminded that they were
being kept like animals.
Some members of their crews, despite all their experience, could still be
anxious around them, or even prejudiced. Forgetting - in their lack of outright
communication with them - that the dragons were in fact intelligent, sentient
beings. And not simply the great beasts they appeared to be. It was nothing
outright offensive, of course - no one would have dragon detail if they were so
inclined. But humans had an unfortunate tendency to forget and speak freely as
they went about their work. The occasional dragon response did nothing to
assist the image of their civilized nature, but rather more firmly rooted the
unfortunate animalistic tendencies as inherently truer. Dragons by nature, were
private, protective, possessive and occasionally - especially where their
Rangers were concerned - sensitive.
It was likely Gipsy was well aware of their situation, and would become
agitated if any crew wandered in, or too close. Dragons as a race, had no solid
opinions on sexuality, but they held the intimacy of the act in high regard.
When Striker and Gipsy had mated to produce Baby, they’d disappeared for a few
days, returning only to lay their egg. Dragons didn’t mind being near when
others copulated, but they did their best to tune it out, so that the act could
remain a pure interaction between it’s participants only. And while Striker and
Gipsy had both been very pleased that Yancy, Raleigh and Chuck’s scents had
begun to coalesce, they were not at all ignorant as to how it came about.
Though they never outright mentioned it, unless offhandedly cheering them on.
They had high stakes in their Rangers relationship, and they meant to see them
remain together for the duration of their lives. Not that any of them were
complaining.
Yancy worked a finger against Chuck’s entrance, causing him to buck up more
enthusiastically into Raleigh’s hand. He wasn’t anywhere near close, the
sensation of prickly nesting material against his skin, coupled with Yancy and
Raleigh against him, drawing out his body’s ability to crest exponentially. It
was hot in the close contact, their breaths raking across one another’s skin.
The weight of their bodies moving against one another making the hay crinkle in
obvious telegraph. They were otherwise as quiet as they could manage. Breathing
in one another’s sighs and swallowing one another’s moans, their own cries
smothered against each other’s bodies.
I found them! came the jubilant cry of Mako and Jazmine’s dragonling.
They all froze instantly.
“It’s about time!” Jaz complained from somewhat further away.
They broke apart quickly, trying to stuff themselves back into their clothing
as painlessly efficient as possible.
“Where are they?”
They are in the supply stack.
“They’re rebedding Gipsy’s pen themselves?”
They were mating!
“Oh for fuck’s sake!”
Language, her dragonling chimed, even as Yancy and Raleigh shouted it at her.
“Stop fucking in public places and I’ll start minding my fucking language!” she
snapped. Her voice lowered, gentling. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Baby.”
And do not tell, Mako, the dragonling finished, in good practice.
“Yes, I’d appreciate it, thank you.” She paused just outside, rapping hard
against the wall pannel. “You idiots decent? And I mean physically, because not
even God could help you with the rest.”
They are no longer mating, her dragonling replied, its large mass in the
entryway engulfing the space with no effort. They were fully dressed, but they
are standing now.
Chuck flushed. He’d never had a dragon walk in on him before, and certainly not
one so young and still so unaware of what was and was not appropriate
conversation material. He hoped it didn’t find it necessary to mention their
encounter to Mako, or his dad, or any of the other dragons who might then bring
it up with their Rangers. Oh God, if his dad found out…
Raleigh laughed quietly and threw an arm around him, bringing him close to kiss
his temple in support.
Yancy reached back to smooth a hand down his spine supportively.
Sometimes, even with those one didn’t drift with, no words were needed. Chuck
appreciated that. He really did.
Jazmine ducked beneath the dragonling’s wing to make it through what space was
left and face them. She was smirking, so she clearly wasn’t offended. Chuck was
still mortified. Though really, what had he expected? Letting himself get lost
the way he had in an open space. Someone was bound to come through eventually.
Better to be caught by a dragon than a person. Although, he wasn’t entirely
certain Jazmine wouldn’t lord it over them for a good while. He’d never had
siblings, he could never predict their interactions, nor his place in them by
proxy.
Neither Yancy nor Raleigh seemed particularly concerned, so he decided to verge
on the side of caution. One of them had to be prepared.
“Funny I should catch you rutting given the reason I need to speak with you.”
“Out with it, Jaz,” Raleigh replied. “We have rutting to finish.”
Her mouth quirked up, and for one horrible moment, Chuck thought she might
mention their previous engagement. Instead, she floored them all by turning to
him, meeting his eyes and saying casually, “It’s time to knock me up, Chuck.”
“What?!” Raleigh choked, the first of them to recover, several minutes later.
Jaz had already taken a photograph they’d have to hunt down and destroy, taking
advantage of their stunned states. She’d laughed and tucked the camera away in
her breast pocket, then stepped closer to her dragonling for the added
protection. None of them would really attack her, but in the event they decided
to tackle her for it, Baby would take offense. It was too young to do them any
real damage, especially with Gipsy so close by and Striker within distance. But
it was a statement all the same, and they let her make it unaccosted.
“Mako and I have been discussing it and we think the best time for us to be
pregnant is while Baby is still too young to ride,” she explained, stroking her
dragonling’s neck. It gave a soft rumble of pleasure, whole body leaning into
the attention, which forced Jaz to shift slightly. She smiled and patted its
side affectionately. “We’ll have a lot of work ahead of us once Baby’s fully
grown, and even more once it’s matured enough to begin it’s plasma training.
And we agree that once we’re a functional Jaeger, it’d be a bad time to go on
maternity leave. So, we think it’s in everyone’s best interests if we get
pregnant now, while there’s less physically demanding work for us, and we’re
near enough the Breach’s closing that we’re likely to be safe long enough to
give birth, and for all of us to bond with our little ones. Plus, I’m
ovulating, so…” She dropped the curve of her hand into her palm swiftly twice.
“Chop. Chop. I need your swimmers Chuck.”
Chuck blinked at her.
“Yancy and Raleigh can help. But, condom, guys, and neither of you come
because…” She made a face. “I am carrying your hubby’s baby. Not yours. That’s
Mako’s job.”
Yancy and Raleigh sighed as one. Yancy’s far more exasperated, while Raleigh’s
held amusement.
“When did you decide this, Jaz?” Yancy asked. “Because if it was last night,
I’m sure we can all wait another month for you to start ovulating again.”
“I am doing you a service!” she replied, but it sounded more like a younger
sibling’s taunting than an outright argument. Although, Chuck was basing his
assumption on his lovers reactions, and not entirely on Jaz’s replies. She may
be his friend, but he’d never understood how the Beckets operated and he
doubted he ever would.
“One which we’re returning,” Yancy countered gently.
“If you’re lucky, you and the wifey might get a twofer,” Raleigh added with a
grin.
“Bite your tongue!” Jaz gasped, pointing at him. She turned to look at Chuck
again swiftly, eyes narrowing. “Is there twinning in your family? So help me,
Chuck Hansen, you knock me up with multiples and I will wear your balls for
earrings.”
“Why are you complaining?” Raleigh countered. “Multiples just means you only
have to do the labor thing once.”
“Except for the part where they’ll probably have to cut them out, and they will
be tiny.”
“Guys!” Yancy shouted, holding up his hands. “Chuck’s turning green.”
He wrapped his arm around him, and Chuck leaned heavily into his elder lover,
at a complete loss.
“Wow...you guys need to condition him better,” Jaz commented, as Raleigh drew
up against them and pressed into his back.
“Only child,” they reminded her.
“And you’re a handful enough any day on your own,” Raleigh added.
“Okay, so we’re not doing that,” Jaz said. “The only child thing,” she added,
when they all looked to her. “I had siblings, and as much as they’ve ruined me
for life, our kids should probably have that.” She leaned into her dragonling.
“If Mako’s okay with it, of course.”
Chuck, are you all right? the dragonling asked, head tilting inquisitively. It
was so earnest in it’s query, that Gipsy’s head appeared above them, looking in
over the partial wall.
Chuck, are you unwell? she asked in concern.
“Just a shock, Gipsy,” Yancy replied, smoothing a hand over his side.
Is he having an attack? she countered, head dropping low to inspect them.
“Oh God, guys, I’m so sorry!” Jaz gasped, in horror. “I completely forgot! He
was doing so much better, I--I’m an idiot! Chuck, Chuck, I’m really sorry. Can
he hear me? Chuck!”
“Not having an attack,” he assured them all, reaching up to pat Gipsy’s snout.
Chuck? Striker queried, head appearing above the rest. Gipsy moved out of the
way to let him inspect him on his own. His great inhales sending Chuck’s and
both Beckets’ clothing blowing with his releases.
“I’m okay, Striker,” he replied, leaning into his dragon. “Just, caught off
guard is all.”
Striker rumbled low, and Gipsy rumbled in response, her bulk coming down over
their dragonling.
“Hey,” Chuck interrupted, drawing their attention again. “Hey, it’s okay.
Really. I just wasn’t expecting Jaz to be ready so soon, and…” He sighed,
raking a hand through his hair. “But she’s right. Now’s the best time. The
safest time. It might not be how we planned, but then, I got told last the
first time. I appreciate being informed first this time.”
Jaz smiled at him, even as Striker grumbled at him, You act as if it was a
conspiracy. As it was mind to mind, Chuck just patted him and replied, “Was so
a conspiracy. But, I appreciate it all the same.”
He looked to his lovers, turning so he could lean his back into Striker’s
snout, keeping contact to keep them all calm. Striker was the largest and
fastest among them, even after his injury. And while this was his own family,
there were moments dragons could be pushed to. Moments where only their
Ranger’s life held value, above all others, and Chuck didn’t wish to encounter
anything even remotely like it if they could help it. For all their sakes and
relationships.
“You ready to have a baby with me?” he asked, holding out his hands, palms up.
They both took one, finishing the circle by clasping one another’s tightly
together.
“Let’s do this,” Raleigh said.
“Together,” Yancy agreed.
“For the record,” Jaz called over - because she wouldn’t be herself if she
didn’t have a ready comment. “I’d rather none of you were present when I get
inseminated.”
Medical was surprisingly well prepared. Jazmine prefered to not undergo
fertility treatments, as it would both prolong their wait - until she next
ovulated - and because at heart she felt if they were meant to have a baby it
would happen in it’s own time, regardless of how many times she had to be
inseminated.
She and Mako chose to do the insemination on their own, forgoing clinical
matters. They wanted the intimacy of creating a child, and none of their donors
could fault them for it. As they’d been allowed the intimacy to collect on
their own, they felt Mako and Jazmine deserved the intimacy of insemination on
their own.
Though for safety reasons, Jazmine and Mako had to inseminate one another a
week apart. Jaz had pouted at first but had relented when Mako had discussed it
with her privately. They couldn’t afford a mix up, so Yancy and Raleigh helped
Chuck donate first. And Mako and Jazmine inseminated once his genetic material
was cleared.
A week later, Chuck helped Yancy and Raleigh donate. And Jazmine inseminated
Mako. After the rush of it all - even with their concessions to privacy and
intimacy - there was nothing to do but wait. And as they wanted it to be as
natural as possible, neither woman consented to early testing. To be sure they
took, they performed the procedures twice more between the five of them, all of
them feeling more comfortable without the doctors involvement. Even if one
insemination was all that would be required during ovulation. Their mutual
desire to keep the conceptions up to chance drove them to be thorough.
“We’re really doing this,” Raleigh said one night as they all lay in bed
together.
Chuck rolled his head to see him better and Yancy propped himself up on an
elbow to look at him across Chuck’s chest.
“Getting cold feet, kiddo?” he asked gently.
Raleigh shook his head. “Nothing like that. I just...I guess I never thought
I’d be a dad.”
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Chuck informed him, stroking over his chest.
Raleigh reached up to clasp Chuck’s hand in his, holding it over his heart.
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“What’re we even gonna have the sprog call us?” Chuck asked, the thought
springing to mind almost as suddenly as he expected the thought of a child had
for Raleigh moments earlier.
“We have time to figure that out,” Yancy soothed, stroking a hand over his
belly.
“A baby…” Raleigh said, still caught up in his own revelation.
“A baby,” Chuck and Yancy replied.
“What do you think it’ll be?”
“Dunno, love,” Chuck replied with a shrug. “Don’t rightly care if we’re being
honest. Don’t know much about sheilas, but I figure, that’s what you lot are
for.” Yancy and Raleigh had raised Jazmine on their own after their mother died
and their father had run off for who only knew what reason. There were days
Chuck sincerely hoped that the reason the man hadn’t contacted them in years
was because he’d had a change of heart and had tried to make it back to them
but was stomped on by a Kaiju. It was cruel perhaps, but it was the only reason
Chuck could see anyone never coming back to the Beckets. Even with as brusque
as Jaz could be, she had a good heart. It was frankly inconceivable for him to
find any of Yancy or Raleigh’s faults worth abandoning them over. And none of
them had deserved the shit that had piled down on them so quickly out of the
blue.
“We don’t really know all that much,” Yancy admitted. “Jaz mostly raised
herself.”
“We just made sure she was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head,”
Raleigh added.
“It shows,” Chuck replied flatly.
They both shoved at him and they had a good laugh over it.
“We could always have the dragons raise her. Did wonders for you,” Raleigh
teased.
“It did at that,” Chuck agreed.
“We’ll be alright,” Yancy said, a hand in Chuck’s hair, fingers twining about
dark strands. The other had settled behind Raleigh’s, rubbing at his nape
soothingly. “Whatever we have. We can do this. As long as we’re together, we
can do anything.”
“Sap,” Raleigh drawled as Chuck and Yancy kissed. But he laughed into his own
when Yancy leaned over Chuck to give him one as well. By the time Raleigh was
kissing Chuck things had progressed slightly.
“I love you,” Chuck rasped, holding Raleigh’s face in his hands.
Raleigh’s stroked over the sides of his own. “I love you too.”
“And you,” he continued, turning to look up at Yancy. “I love you.”
Yancy smiled. “And I love you both as well, God help me.”
“Someone gave us to you,” Raleigh remarked. “You’re damn right you were
helped.”
Chuck laughed, content with his life, even with all the changes on the horizon.
A baby, their dragons, continued recuperation...and who only knew about the
Kaiju. All of it was different, slightly intimidating, but Chuck had always
been up for a challenge, and these were no different.
They began lazily, exploring one another as if it were the first time. By the
time things got serious, Chuck was sandwiched between them, straddling Yancy,
with Raleigh at his back. “Tonight,” he gasped, head rocking back. “Please,
tonight.”
“Tonight,” they agreed softly, kissing him.
All the practice in the world could not compare to the real thing. And Chuck
sucked in a breath as Yancy guided him down over his length. He’d insisted on
Chuck being as loose as possible, relaxed and well lubed. The lead up had
nearly driven him over the edge. But, somehow, he’d survived it, and it had
been worth every moment. The feel of Yancy inside him - at long last - brought
actual tears to his eyes. Yancy - being Yancy - paused. “Are you alright,
Chuck?” he asked, one hand abandoning Chuck’s hip to reach up and stroke
moisture from his eyes.
“I’m just happy,” he sighed, eyes blinking open to look down at him. “I’m so
happy.”
Yancy smiled, and reassured, began thrusting again. It was slow at first, to
get Chuck used to him, but soon enough, Chuck - being a determined, well
prepared, severely cock starved individual - began to thrust back and Yancy
paused - whether out of concern or sheer stimulation, Chuck couldn’t tell.
“Raleigh,” he gasped, riding Yancy hard. “Raleigh, get in here, love.” He
pushed himself up, reaching back for his other lover and drew him into a
desperate kiss. “I want you inside me,” he rasped against his mouth. “Need you
inside me. Now. Please.”
“God, Chuck,” Raleigh exhaled, pushing up against him. “Stop moving, baby. Hold
still...hold still for me.” His and Yancy’s hands caught Chuck mid thrust and
held him steadily. “Okay?” Raleigh asked, kissing over his shoulder. “Okay?”
Chuck nodded, feeling a keen rising in his throat. “Fuck, Raleigh...Fuck. In
me! In me!”
“Easy, baby…” Raleigh panted, brow dropping to Chuck’s back. “Easy.”
Chuck whined, hips testing their hold as Raleigh let go with one hand to guide
his cock against him. He bit his lip when he felt the head press close. “Jesus,
Raleigh. Do it! I’m not gonna break! Just do it! Please!”
“I’m doing it, Chuck, just...wait...we have to go easy, baby.”
Chuck shook his head, dropping forward until he could press his face against
Yancy’s throat. Yancy wrapped his arms about him, stroking over his back
soothingly. His hold about Chuck held him still, fingers smoothing over muscle
and bone as Raleigh aligned himself.
He said something, low and hissed and in French. Which Yancy responded to
immediately and also in French.
“English,” Chuck growled.
“Some things can’t be said in English,” Yancy replied, turning to kiss him
against the temple.
“Gonna be teaching the kids French anyway,” Raleigh replied, sucking in a
breath as he breached him. “You’re going to….need to….learn...oh fuck, fuck!”
Yancy’s head thumped against the mattress as his body arched slightly, caught
between thrusting up into the tightening heat, and remaining still while Chuck
adjusted. Chuck was too busy curling about Yancy and thrusting his hips back to
meet Raleigh’s cock to be overly concerned. He was fairly certain he’d managed
every single swear word he’d ever heard in his entire life by the time they
were both seated. The stretch and burn of it was incredible. But what made it
all the more amazing was the fact that for once, he wasn’t in an awkwardly
hunched position, just trying to keep two silicone wannabes up his ass.
Instead, he was comfortably between the two bodies he’d most longed to be
pressed against. And they had driven their own, very real, very hard and very
large cocks up his ass as one. There were reasons Jaegerflies ultimate goals
were to sleep with both Rangers at once. Chuck had been a recipient of the
dual, synchronous attention for endless weeks of pleasure. But it did not even
compare to the way the brothers shifted, adjusting on either side of him,
making them truly one, and began to thrust.
Chuck moaned deeply, pushing himself up even as Raleigh draped across his back.
Yancy pushed himself up on his elbows to meet them and Chuck saw stars. The cry
he uttered only seemed to spur them on, because all at once, they were driving
into him.
He lost track of what any of them were saying, though he knew the likelihood
anything he was saying was something just short of filthy was highly unlikely.
He was cognizant enough to realize that after a while all they were making was
noise, and lots of it. They were lost to the moment, riding pleasure and
passion as they drove themselves forward toward release, unaware and uncaring
as to whom may end up privy to their intimacy.
“Gonna come, gonna come!” one of them gasped, though Chuck couldn’t tell which
of them had done so.
It didn’t much matter, because a moment later all three of them released and
the world went white.
Chuck could feel them still seated in him, pushed deep, the three of them
tangled together in a knot of bodies. He felt so full, he was sure it would be
forever burned into his memory and sent a silent - albeit brief - apology to
his Dad when next they drifted. Unless perhaps, he could talk Striker into
keeping it just between them, the way he had for his father’s own experiences
in a similar union.
Raleigh was a heavy weight across his back and he was fairly sure they were
crushing Yancy, whose chest rose and fell with the strength of a bellows.
They lay there for a few minutes, dazed by the sheer ferocity of their orgasms.
Trying their best to catch their breath, despite the piling of their bodies.
Harsh breaths blowing across sweat damp skin.
“My hands…are shaking…” Raleigh panted eventually. “My fucking hands are
shaking.” He shifted slightly, pressing sloppy, but steady kisses across
Chuck’s shoulders. “Where the hell did you learn to squeeze like that?”
Chuck gasped through a short laugh. “It was…the only way…I could...get off.”
Yancy groaned. “I knew it!”
Chuck smiled against his skin. “Had to...keep busy...somehow.”
“You fucking practiced?!” Raleigh replied.
“Don’t be so surprised, Rals,” Yancy said, reaching down to gently swat what
was exposed of Chuck’s ass, not covered by Raleigh’s own body. “He’s always
been studious.”
“Never wore myself out like this,” he admitted. “Jesus-Fuck, you’re both
amazing.”
“I’m going to pull out now,” Raleigh warned, reaching back.
Chuck and Yancy just nodded.
He had to bite his lip as Raleigh’s hips slid slowly back, reaching for his
cock and guiding it free with extra care. Yancy kissed along his jaw, wincing
slightly as Raleigh assisted him free.
“Everyone in one piece?” he asked after a moment, Raleigh dropping down into
the bed beside them, breathing hard.
“Think we’re getting stuck together,” Chuck informed him. “But otherwise...I’ve
never felt better.” He grinned at them.
“Look at him,” Raleigh huffed. “The smug little bastard.”
Yancy reached up to smooth back Chuck’s hair, pushing up to kiss his temple
when Chuck leaned into the touch. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked him, soft and
warm against his skin.
Chuck hummed. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Yancy replied, kissing him again.
“Yeah,” Raleigh added. “That was...the best sex I’ve ever had. Bar none.” He
swiped both hands above him in the air, continuing after a moment, “Sorry,
Yance.”
Yancy shook his head. “No, I admit defeat.” He slid one arm about Chuck,
bringing him back down against him. Chuck turned his head so he could see
Raleigh, who was rolling into the arm Yancy had extended. “I love you both,” he
said seriously and with such conviction, it was almost difficult to recall him
panting along side them a moment earlier. “No matter what happens, that will
never change.” He kissed the top of Chuck’s head, then Raleigh’s temple. “And I
want to spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it means growing old and
useless, and ending up creaky old men on a porch somewhere.”
“We’re still younger than you, you’re going to creak first,” Raleigh teased
gently.
“He already creaks,” Chuck countered.
Yancy continued as if he hadn’t heard them. “Wanna die with you. Be burned with
you. And drift on the wind forever with you.”
They quieted at that, snuggling close and stroking over him.
“You’re stuck with us, Yance,” Raleigh murmured after a while. “For better or
for worse.”
“You willing to bet on that?”
Chuck turned his head, chin resting against Yancy’s chest. “You proposing,
mate?”
“Yes.”
Chuck blinked at him, then looked at Raleigh, only to meet equally startled
eyes.
“Holy shit, are you serious, Yancy?” the younger blond asked.
“You know I am, Rals,” he replied, drawing him close and rubbing noses. “Know
how long I have been at that.”
Raleigh closed his eyes, a blinding smile breaking out over his face. “I never
thought you’d-”
“Neither did I,” the elder blond admitted.
“Yes!” Raleigh gasped and kissed him. “Jesus, Yance, yes!”
Chuck watched them kiss, smirking when they turned to look at him expectantly.
“Well, I suppose, I already tried knocking up your sister a few times, might as
well make it permanent.”
They laughed and kissed him.
Chuck didn’t think it could get more perfect.
“I’M PREGNANT!!” Jaz announced over the intercom a week later. More to the
point, she screamed it right against the mic, causing several people to wince,
and every dragon in the bays to lower their heads against their sides.
“You couldn’t tell us in person first?!” Raleigh shouted at her as she all but
bounced into the Dragon bay with her dragonling behind her and Mako at her
side.
“Don’t shout at pregnant people, Rals!” she shouted back.
Yancy looked to Mako, raising a brow.
She flushed and nodded, bowing deeply.
“We Beckets are good at making babies,” Jaz informed them. “So you better be
prepared because this is probably gonna suck for everyone.”
“Well,” Chuck said, turning to their dragons. “Legacies currently baking.”
Gipsy and Striker lowered their heads, sniffing at and nuzzling both women.
Lucky and Coyote followed until they were surrounded.
I will take extra special care of the eggs, their dragonling assured the
amassed group.
“Baby,” Jaz said gently. “Humans grow inside their mothers. It will be a while
before you can see them. And Mako and I are going to get very round!” She
gestured with her arms indicating a pregnant swell. “But you needn’t worry,
because, we will go right back once the babies are born!” She drew her hands
in, dropping them against her well toned abdomen, and while the dragonling
looked on as if it could see through her shirt, she glared at them with a look
even Chuck could interpret. ‘We better or else.’
Her brothers threw up their hands and Chuck shoved his in his pockets.
Jazmine Becket was pregnant. With his baby.
He was going to be a father.
They had a bit of a party, something to celebrate in the wake of the Breach
closing. Jaz wasn’t too comfortable with celebrating when she was barely out of
her first month, but as her brothers had explained to her, if she hadn’t wanted
people to know, she shouldn’t have announced it over the communications system.
Mako was more reserved, quietly and politely thanking people, her arms in front
of her in a formal position that Chuck couldn’t help but also see as a mother’s
protective instinct.
It weighed on him as the party dragged on, and he found himself tugging Jazmine
into a corner when he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Thanks for saving me,” she sighed, sinking back into a chair. “I swear, you’d
think it was everyone’s baby!”
“They can’t help it, they’re just excited.”
“Yeah, but…” She sighed and looked down, arms looping around her middle
hollowly. “I dunno...I was just really excited. I didn’t mean to not tell you
first, Chuck.”
“It’s okay, Jaz, really.”
“No, it isn’t.” She ran her hand back through her hair and slumped slightly. “I
just...I wanted this to be special. For you and Yance and Rals...I mean...you
couldn’t do this any other way. Mako and I we could have a dozen babies between
us, but you-”
“Really Jaz, it’s okay.”
She cocked her head, observing him. “Something’s bothering you,” she pointed
out deftly.
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About my mom.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. She tucked some hair back behind her ear and looked
down at her lap. “I was thinking about mine too.”
“Not sure I want my kid to not have that relationship. I mean, they’re gonna be
loved lots yeah, but it’s just…”
“Not the same,” she replied. “I know.”
Chuck exhaled heavily and raked both hands through his hair. It was plaguing
him. He hadn’t thought it would, but the moment he’d let it sink in, the moment
he’d accepted his looming parental responsibilities, he’d been unable to think
of anything else. All he could hear was her voice. The songs she sang while she
moved about the house. Her laugh, open and honest and loud, as if bursting from
her every time. The brush of her hair as she’d lean close to kiss him
goodnight. The warmth of her skin and the long brushes of her fingers, as if
every touch was just an extension of the last.
He sat across from Jazmine, shoulders slumping. From further in the dome
Striker roared, feeling Chuck’s pain. It brought his dad, who said nothing,
simply pulled up a chair and drew him close. “I know,” he murmured into his
hair. “I know.” Chuck curled into the embrace, relaxing as Jazmine moved her
chair and pressed against his back, stroking down his arm.
“Everything okay?” Raleigh asked, coming into view.
“I miss mom,” Jazmine sobbed.
Raleigh deflated, but Yancy - perhaps better accustomed to it - moved over and
picked her up, settling in her chair and holding her close. He rocked her
softly, humming gently. Raleigh drew up a chair, placing it across from the
four of them and leaned in, one hand to each of their thighs, and began to
sing.
There was a slight commotion, people startling and tables being knocked over
and then Jaz’s dragonling was shoving its spade shaped face into their group
and snuffling her.
It must have spoken to her directly, because she shook her head and reached out
for it, drawing its head close. Yancy paused in his rocking to let her draw it
into their embrace. “I just miss my mother,” she told it. “No one hurt me...no
one hurt me..”
It closed its eyes, wings drooping. It couldn’t understand her distress, but
keened softly regardless, sharing in it. Mako eased her way over, with Stacker
and Tamsin, and before anyone knew it, it was a large pile of people. Uncle
Scott wandering over after having gone to tell their dragons they were okay. He
settled down beside Herc, gathering his brother and nephew in arms and holding
tight.
Chuck hadn’t even noticed his father had joined in his tears.
Later that night, cuddled close between his lovers, after a good long cry,
Chuck felt remarkably better. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset
anyone.”
“Shh,” they replied in unison, hands stroking.
“You have every right to miss your mother, Chuck.”
“In all the chaos of everything,” Raleigh replied, pressing his cheek to
Chuck’s shoulder. “It didn’t occur to me until you and Jaz were already upset
over it.”
Chuck tried to shift so he could see him, but Raleigh was plastered against his
back. Yancy reached for him, smoothing his fingers through blond hair. “Wasn’t
anyone’s fault,” he told them. “And no one should feel bad for thinking or not
thinking about it. It is what it is.”
“What was your mom’s name?” Chuck asked, curious about the woman who’d raised
such wonderful children.
“Dominique.”
“That’s a lot to live up to.”
They laughed.
“As opposed to your mother, you mean.”
“Foremost dragonologist.”
“Founding member of the Jaeger Program.”
“Pretty sure she invented the Jaeger program, Yance.”
“Oh shut up,” Chuck countered, scrubbing his face against the elder Becket’s
chest. “Her name was nice and simple, see what I’m getting at?”
“Her name was simple, but she’s a legend, Chuck.” He pressed a kiss between his
shoulderblades. “We’re here because of her. She gave us you. And we’ll always
be thankful to her for it.”
Yancy knocked his brother’s shoulder with his own, smiling at him over Chuck’s
head. Chuck figured he was rewarding him for actually saying something with
more depth than a sexual tease. But Raleigh’s honesty was something Chuck both
loved and admired. He could always count on the younger Beket to say what was
on his mind, something which Chuck himself was generally likely to do - despite
the consequences, which he rarely thought through before opening his mouth.
Every so often, Raleigh would say something deep and meaningful, and it would
stick with Chuck in ways he couldn’t shake. He liked that Raleigh’s words
echoed back at him at odd moments. Enjoyed the weight of them within himself.
Looked forward to the times he could actually bring them to fruition, or bask
in their resonance.
“I want our kid to have an uncomplicated name,” he said, fingers stroking over
tanned skin on either side of him.
“We’re going to need to know what it is first,” Raleigh pointed out.
Chuck wasn’t surprised when Yancy scoffed with him.
“It’s called being prepared, Rals,” he teased.
“What if we pick out a whole name and look at the baby and go, ‘wow we were way
off’.”
“Then we rename the kid,” Yancy replied with a half shrug.
“Should we start lists and exchange them?” the younger Becket mused aloud.
Chuck laughed softly.
“What?” the brothers responded in kind.
“A week ago we were arguing over how much lube we really needed to fit you both
up my ass. Now we’re arguing baby names.”
“We have fallen into the domestic trap,” Yancy deadpanned. “There’s no saving
us.”
Chuck kissed him, then turned to kiss Raleigh as well. “Wouldn’t have it any
other way.”
Jazmine was not the healthy glow and roses type of pregnant. Unfortunately for
all of them, her morning sickness started early and held fast. After the first
two weeks, there wasn’t a toilet, waste basket or corner she hadn’t thrown up
in. After the first two months, she’d thrown up on all of them at least once,
including her dragonling. It had matured enough that it was now large enough to
ride, but it spent a great deal of its time walking around with Jazmine laying
on its back, moaning. She felt better in close proximity to it, which Chuck
suspected had a lot more to do with the bond they shared than the rocking
motion of its gait - not that he was an expert, nor willing to argue the point
with her. Their dragonling was still too young to draw pain from Jazmine, but
as the baby was Chuck’s it’s blood called to Striker and Lucky. They shared
Jazmine’s discomfort and preferred her to remain with them where they could
watch over her. Which meant most of Jaz’s day was spent face up on the back of
her dragonling, being walked around in wide circles about the Dragon bays.
Mako, in comparison, seemed not to get sick at all. She had some mild nausea,
but they only ever heard about it from Jaz when she was bemoaning her fate.
Mako preferred not to discuss her symptoms - or lack there of. They all began
to worry however, when Jaz passed into her second trimester and the morning
sickness didn’t abate. She was four months pregnant and cursing Chuck’s entire
line - which ruffled Striker and Lucky who had to be soothed over the constant
assault of their horde - when she was officially diagnosed with Hyperemesis
Gravidarum. Which, as it turned out, she had inherited from her mother. There
had been tears, two bathroom breaks and an overturned vase, but she’d stopped
cursing Chuck and began cursing her brothers instead. They took it in stride,
continuing to help care for her while she began to undergo treatment.
It took a careful balancing of medical care and exposure to dragons, but
eventually Jazmine evened out. She was on a strict diet to keep her condition
at bay, but doctors assured both she and the baby were healthy and that
everything was progressing fine. They suspected that by the time her dragonling
was fully mature, should she decide to carry again, it would be able to
stabilize her enough, should the condition arise. As it stood, however, Jaz was
in no hurry to get pregnant ever again.
“Do you want to know what you’re having?” she asked them one afternoon,
waltzing up to their table in the canteen. Her dragonling was too large to
follow her through the halls any longer and could be heard calling for her when
she was too long from its presence. They could hear it caterwauling in the
distance. Most likely, having shoved its head through the bay doors, long neck
stretching out into the thoroughfare.
“Your dragon’s crying,” Raleigh pointed out unnecessarily.
“Baby’ll be fine. I’ll go over there in a minute.” She waved a small scrap of
smooth paper at them. “Do you want to know?” she sang.
They looked at one another. They’d discussed it, but they still hadn’t decided
whether or not they wanted to be entirely surprised. Yancy - with an elder
sibling’s experience, and having struggled to raise both Raleigh and Jazmine
for a while on his own - wanted to know as soon as Jaz did, so they could start
preparing. Raleigh - in typical fashion - wanted to be entirely surprised,
thriving on the unknown and running a betting pool through the Weis, though
Tendo was the banker. Chuck wavered on any given day. Both wanting to be as
prepared as possible, and not entirely sure he could handle it if the baby
turned out to be a girl, or was in fact not a girl. He still wasn’t sure which
would cause greater damage to his emotional state.
“I threw up for four months for you assholes!”
Raleigh and Chuck nodded. Yancy sighed, but smiled at her placatingly. “Yes,
Jaz, we’d love to know what the baby is.”
She slapped the sonogram picture on the table, mouth curving when they all
leaned in to squint at it, unable to tell either way. Jaz bobbed on her toes in
great delight, leaning forward far enough Chuck felt the urge to get up and
support her overwhelm him. “It’s a girl!”
The world fell away, and yet, it didn’t end.
“A girl,” he whispered, picking up the picture and bringing it close to look at
their baby.
“Wow, Jaz,” Raleigh cooed, chin over Chuck’s shoulder. “That’s great. Thanks!”
Yancy got up and moved around the table to take his sister in his arms and give
her a squeeze - Chuck noticed he discretely straightened her with the motion.
He wasn’t the only worrier in their family. “Thank you, Jaz,” he murmured into
her hair.
She hugged him back, tight and solemn, balancing on her toes so her belly
wouldn’t press into his groin. Then she slapped him on the back with both
hands. “You better name this baby good, Dadoo!” She leaned back in his arms and
waved a finger at him. “Or we’re gonna have words!”
“Well,” Raleigh sighed. “There goes the pool.”
As usual, Jazmine’s enthusiasm had carried, and news was traveling fast. She
grinned at them and with a wave, sauntered off to go rescue her dragonling.
Mako, as it turned out, was having a boy. Jaz made a joke about swapping babies
with them, and accidentally hurt Mako’s feelings. He’d never seen her cry
before, and he guessed neither had anyone else. Because they all stood there
dumbfounded and unhelpful while Mako bowed shakily, excused herself, and
hurried off.
“Mako!” Jaz cried. “Honey! No! I was joking! Mako!!”
“We probably shouldn’t ever let them get pregnant at the same time again,”
Raleigh commented, as Jazmine hurried after her partner. Her gait hindered by
the care she had to take for the feet she was starting to lose sight of.
Chuck and Yancy nodded.
Tamsin was the one who fixed things between the pregnant lovers, taking her
daughter aside to speak quietly to her in soft Japanese. By the time Jaz caught
up with them, she was out of breath, with a stitch in her side, and Chuck had
to ask his dad to interfere before Stacker caught wind of what was going on. He
could be as protective as a dragon when it came to his daughter, and it was the
last thing anyone needed given the situation. Tamsin ended up with two crying
pregnant women to console, but they came out of it just fine. The three of them
meeting everyone for dinner, Mako and Jazmine as in love as you please, by the
time they sat down.
Their dragonling had at first, wavered on a gender, and it seemed as if it
wasn’t quite sure whether it actually wanted to be female or not. Jazmine and
Mako reminded it it could choose whatever it wanted, and it spent days moping
around the bays, asking all the other dragons how and why they’d chosen the
gender they had. Chuck had had to endure the vast amusement present in the
company who sat to hear Striker’s telling. He pointedly reminded his lovers,
that he could always change his mind about them, which had the unfortunate side
effect of the dragons overhearing. And he’d had to endure hours of their
arguments about why he shouldn’t give up on Yancy and Raleigh, who - the
assholes - had managed to somehow remain straight faced, nodding in agreement
the entire time. Chuck had gotten them back by tying them up and delaying their
orgasms until they begged for them, but no one had really been affected by his
comment - minus the dragons.
In a show of good faith - and because they were going to do it anyway - they
moved up the wedding and held it as a private ceremony in the Dragon bays. The
formalized union meant something quite different to the dragons, and at first
Chuck didn’t understand why they were so solemn through the whole affair. It
wasn’t until after, in honoring the dragon way, that they looked at one another
through dragon sight and couldn’t seem to tell the difference between
themselves that it all made sense.
“So when you said, soul-bound, you literally meant-”
His statement was greeted by the turning of dragon heads, which he had come to
recognize as ‘Duh!’.
Congratulations, Lucky said, dipping her head. She turned to look at Striker,
Gipsy, Coyote and the dragonling. Long may their line be.
All five craned their heads back in tandem and released the most thunderous
roars Chuck had ever experienced. The walls of the Shatterdome vibrated with
the sound, amplifying and echoing it as it was released into the sky. A moment
later all the other dragons in the bays roared back, and then they all began to
roar quite happily, until Chuck began to feel a distinct concern for the
foundation.
“This is going to take some getting used to,” Raleigh said, looking at his
hands.
“You can say that again, kiddo.”
“Hey, I’m your husband now! You can’t call me kiddo anymore!”
“Of course I can,” Yancy replied, throwing an arm about his shoulders and
dragging him close. “You like it too much to let me stop,” he added with a sly
smirk.
Raleigh laughed and kissed him.
“Dad,” Chuck said, looking up to catch the older man’s gaze. “Uncle Scott...you
have to do this!”
“I don’t think-”
“Mom would want you to,” he told him. “Look at me. Before you say anything,
look at me through Striker or Lucky. Just...trust me.”
His father closed his eyes, exhaling softly. When he opened them again, he
blinked widely, then turned to look at Chuck’s spouses who were indulging in a
bit of making out, under the line of dragons. He blinked again, then turned to
look at him, reaching out almost tentatively for his son. Chuck smiled and took
his hand, squeezing it gently.
A moment later, Uncle Scott swore softly.
“Cool, innit?” Chuck asked him.
“Stacker, we’re getting married,” his Uncle said.
The Marshall wandered over, sliding his arms around his lovers in a display
that for once was not the slightest bit discrete. Chuck found, for the first
time, it warmed him, rather than made him uncomfortable. “Gonna make honest men
out of them, Stacker?” he asked, drawing all the power of his dragon into the
question.
Stacker’s head cocked minutely as he studied him, then he nodded once.
“Good man,” Chuck replied. The moment was promptly ruined by Jaz who wanted to
take a picture with him, showcasing the fact that their daughter had been
present at their wedding. She found it marvelously funny that she was the one
knocked up, but her brothers had been the ones to get married. There was
mention of shotguns as she took Chuck’s arm - which he later had to ask his
husbands about. His uncle had managed to make the connection, because as they
took the picture, he called out, “Whose daddy has th’ knife?”
It had the desired effect. The photo a perfect capture of Chuck straight
backed, wide eyed and open mouthed and Jaz, one leg thrown across him, belly
against his as she dangled from his arm laughing hysterically. Mako took one
look at the picture and forwarded a copy to herself.
There was time for a honeymoon, but they decided not to take one. Jaz and Mako
were both pretty far along, they couldn’t take their dragons, and they were
quite frankly, sick to death of the attempts for ‘exclusive’ interviews. So it
brought them great pleasure to remain holed up in the Shatterdome, while word
spread of a joint filed marriage licence.
They’d remained in Hong Kong at first out of necessity, with Jaegers needing
time to heal before any serious moves could be undertaken. As time went on,
however, it simply became home. Hong Kong was one of the more open ports, and
they cared very little about what actually happened within the Shatterdome, as
long as dragon patrols continued. So, once a week, they geared up, strapped in,
and headed out to fly the coastline. The populace was grateful, even if there
was very little need for Jaegers any more. The walls which the United Nations
had pushed so hard for had come down under a single category IV Kaiju in less
than an hour. The people had lost faith in most of the governments plans, and
riots only quieted under the peaceful banner of the PPDC Jaegers flying
overhead. The dragons took great pride in the runs, even if some people
considered them a waste. They felt appreciated, and honored, and they would
willingly remain out for long stretches of time, sometimes goading their own
Rangers to further distances than they’d been assigned.
Because they could never be assured that the Kaiju would remain trapped in
their now sealed universe, life in the PPDC continued as if the Kaiju had never
been vanquished. The urgency was gone, and they were able to concentrate more
carefully on the applicants to the program. But several Ranger classes had
graduated before the Breach had been sealed. Remaining in the wings of
Shatterdomes across the world, raising their dragons, and waiting to be
deployed. Which was how on a lovely spring afternoon they first met Gunnar and
Vic Tunari and their newly fully matured - surprisingly male - dragon Canini
Tarantella, who as it so happened, had been hatched from Coyote Tango during
her stint in the breeding program.
Chuck was in the Dragon Bay, rubbing down Striker when they arrived. Striker,
who had never had to contend with another male for space, came instantly to
alert, wings flaring wide and head raised to it’s highest point, which still
meant he was craning his neck somewhat due to the ceiling. Canini paused,
younger, and smaller, and flared his own wings in challenge. Striker had the
advantage, but Chuck wasn’t about to become involved in a dragon pissing
contest, even if Striker did have the instinctual response for having been the
only male in a bay of females, many of whom he was related to through Ranger
bonds, including Lucky - a maternal figure, Gipsy, his mate, and their
dragonling, who at nearly three, still had not chosen a gender, and was
beginning to alarm several crew members with it’s indecision.
“Oi!” he called, pressing the heel of his boot into one of the tendons they
used to steer while riding. Striker responded, body swaying in that direction.
It unbalanced him, and he had to fold his wings back in to keep from stumbling.
“Behave!” He’d never thought he’d ever need to tell Striker as much. Even as a
dragonling, Striker was impeccably well mannered, polite, and had fantastic
social graces. First time for everything, he thought, as he wandered over
Striker’s shoulder and jumped. It further forced Striker to mind him, as he’d
jumped freely into thin air, and his dragon had to extend a foreleg for Chuck
to slide smoothly down to the floor if only to keep him from grievous injury.
Canini’s Rangers likewise, made the descent, using the dragon’s tail, in lieu
of the neck he refused to lower. “Chuck Hansen,” he greeted, as he wandered
over, arm extended. “Welcome t’ Hong Kong!”
“Gunnar,” said the taller pilot to his left.
“Vic,” the other added, also shaking his hand.
“Tunari,” Gunnar finished for both.
"Any relation?" Chuck asked, with the hint of a grin. It was clear they were,
and in their profession, most of the human two-thirds of a Jaeger team were
related in some way. Whether through genetics, bonds, or some combination
therein. Their looks aside, it was common courtesy to ask.
"We're brothers," Gunnar clarified.
"Lot of that going around."
"If it ain't broke," Vic quoted, with a smile.
“True enough. Either way, nice t’ meet you,” Chuck replied. “And this?”
“This…” Gunnar said, stepping back to nudge the dragon with his boot. “Is
Canini Tarantella. Of Coyote Tango and Horizon Brave.”
Chuck whistled. “I don’t think Striker’s gonna let me speak t’ him.”
“Are male dragons that uncommon?” asked Vic.
“In th’ PPDC, after the first wave, yeah, they really are. Hang on a minute.”
He clambered up onto the nearest post and cupped his hands about his mouth.
“Lucky! Lucky, y’ in here? I need help talkin’ t’ someone!”
“Isn’t Striker your dragon?” Gunnar asked.
“Yeah, Striker Eureka,” Chuck replied, waving down Lucky.
Striker gave a low growl of disapproval that deepened as she got closer.
“Holy shit,” Vic swore, suddenly pointing at him. “Chuck Hansen. THE Chuck
Hansen. The first of the Legacies!”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He turned around, putting both hands in his pockets and
rocking slightly - precariously some might say - atop the post, facing Canini
again. “Let’s try this again. Hello! Welcome t’ Hong Kong, mate.”
Canini tilted his head, then leveled his gaze. I appreciate your greeting,
Ranger Hansen, he replied.
Chuck grinned. “We’re all friends here, Canini. Call me Chuck.”
Chuck, the dragon corrected, still eying Striker.
Striker who hissed when Lucky snapped at him. He quieted down however, though
he did not take his eyes off of the other male.
“What brings you lot to Hong Kong?” he asked.
“We received several offers, but Canini wanted to meet his mother, and…”
“We thought he should be allowed to do that first. Especially as there’re no
more Kaiju to fight.”
“Bite your tongue,” Chuck replied, startling both. “I died during that mission,
and I’m none too keen on having to go on a similar one any time soon. After
all-”
CHUCK!!! cried the dragonling, scrambling across the bay. Chuck, something is
wrong! I can feel-
“CHUCK!!!” screeched Jaz over the comms. “IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR DAUGHTER BORN
YOU GET YOUR ASS UP HERE RIGHT NOW!!! I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GOING TO BREAK YOUR
HAND FOR THIS!!!”
“How th’ hell does she keep managing that?” he gaped, as Lucky nosed him
eagerly.
No time! she chided. Go! Our baby is coming!
“You’ve got this?” he asked her, not wanting to leave Lucky and the Tunaris
alone with a hostile Striker.
I am older, she reminded him, tipping him over so he had to step on her nose or
fall. He rode her head to her neck, and slid down onto her back. “Really sorry,
blokes,” he called out. “But, she really will kill me if I miss this!”
As if to emphasize his point, Jaz could be heard screaming his name as they
passed the bays toward medical.
He gave them a quick wave and took Lucky’s tail in one fluid motion, leaping a
short distance, as she flicked the end, so he wouldn’t lose momentum. As he hit
the ground running, he heard Vic say to Gunnar, “Did you see that? Think we can
learn that?”
“We are parents,” Raleigh said, still in awe as they looked down at their
daughter. Angela Dominique Becket-Hansen was small and pink with a puff of hair
atop her head that didn’t seem to know what color it quite wanted to be yet.
“We should take her to see them,” Chuck said, still staring down at their
daughter in his arms. “No one’s mentioned anyone dying, so I guess the Tunaris
survived, but we should probably check anyway. Besides…” He looked up at his
husbands. “We have a legacy to introduce.”
The dragons crowded around them as soon as they entered the bays, heads
lowering eagerly to touch and scent her, to welcome her into their horde.
“Guys,” Chuck said, bouncing slightly, “We’d like you to meet Angela Dominique
Becket-Hansen, of Jazmine Becket and myself.”
If dragons could cry, he was fairly certain, they’d have been waist deep in
salt water in no time. As it was, they were herded into Striker’s pen, where
the family had gathered, all five dragons sharing in the delight of the
expansion of their horde. The rest of the family - of the human persuasion -
found them there later, having wandered out after them, when the trip to
medical proved fruitless.
“Hey Granddad,” Chuck greeted his father, as he stepped close. “Someone here’s
been waiting to meet you.”
His father lowered himself until he was on his knees, and took the baby from
him as she was offered. “Hello beautiful,” he murmured, tucking her close.
“What’d y’ name her?”
“Angela,” Yancy said, wrapping his arms around Chuck and Raleigh.
Herc paused, going slack for a moment.
“Angela Dominique Becket-Hansen,” his eldest husband continued.
“Quite a mouthful,” Scott said, settling down beside his brother. He slipped
one arm around his waist, the other moving to support the hold of his brother’s
granddaughter.
Herc swallowed several times and looked down at the baby in his arms. He tried
to keep the tears from falling on her, but if any did, she didn’t seem to mind
them.
“We probably shouldn’t raise our daughter in a dragon pen,” Raleigh pointed
out, several days later, when they were still amongst them, surrounded by their
content dragons.
“Didn’t seem to hurt Chuck any,” Yancy teased.
“Chuck was already a kid when he started.”
Chuck sighed, stretching out his legs, Angela asleep in his arms. “That was the
life.”
Chuck was very fortunate to be raised among dragons, Gipsy commented.
“You would agree,” Raleigh teased her.
“Congratulations, by the way,” came a voice from beyond the posts. “We’ve been
wanting to extend ours, and Canini’s for a while now, but we were told it was
best to let everyone settle first.”
“Including ourselves,” said Vic, leaning forward slightly with a grin.
“Hey, Tunaris,” Chuck greeted. “Glad t’ see you’re still alive.”
They laughed as Yancy helped him up.
“Wanna see her?”
“We’d love to.”
“Thanks.”
Chuck wandered over, Yancy and Raleigh flanking him on either side, and several
dragon heads following along behind them. He paused against the post, leaning
into one casually and turning so they could see their little gem.
“She’s beautiful, Chuck,” Vic said, folding both arms over the post and leaning
in to look at her more closely.
“What a blessing,” Gunnar added.
“Thank you. Gunnar, Vic, these are my husbands, Yancy and Raleigh Becket.”
Vic’s brows rose. “So...the woman…?”
“Our sister,” Raleigh said, reaching out to shake their hands.
“And surrogate,” Yancy added, doing similarly.
“Ah,” the Tunaris replied in understanding.
“Our congratulations then, to you as well,” said Gunnar.
“And Canini’s.”
“Thank you,” the Beckets responded.
“Rangers Becket to medical. Rangers Becket to medical.”
“You don’t think…” Yancy said, meeting Raleigh’s sideways gaze.
It was a moment before they both made hasty excuses and pelted out.
The other baby is coming, Jaz and Mako’s dragonling explained, coming over to
the group.
“Other baby?” Gunnar asked, confused.
“They helped us have one, we helped them have one of their own,” Chuck
explained. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another birth to attend.”
“By all means,” Vic replied, arm out.
Chuck smiled as he passed them.
Van Masao Mori-Becket was as reserved as his mother when he greeted the world.
Smaller than his cousin, he was no less eager in his regard to life. And there
were hints, every now and again, that he had inherited more than just the
Becket eye color. Sometimes, they thought he was Yancy’s due to his quiet
nature and others Raleigh’s when he was extra boisterous. But they had never
ordered a paternity test, as none of those involved cared to know the truth of
his siring.
As they grew, Angela and Van became the treasure to all within the Shatterdome,
that they had been to the dragons from the start. One day, as they were playing
together in the pen under the watchful eye of their mothers’ dragon, while
Chuck saw to Striker’s comfort, they were privy to a moment Chuck had never
witnessed from the outside.
Gunnar and Vic had paused, mid stride to the flightsuit room. Their eyes wide
and unmoving. Chuck followed their gaze to find - of all people - Tamsin across
the bay. “Tamsin!” he called, and she looked up, pausing herself when she
noticed she was being watched. She blinked once, exhaled slowly and closed her
eyes. When she opened them again, she sucked in a deep breath.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chuck commented to himself, leaning into one of the
posts. “Well kiddies, looks like Grandma will be happy after all.”
Van and Angela just screeched at him and continued throwing straw at one
another.
Tamsin became a Tunari quicker than her own partner made it to the altar. She
was beautiful and radiant, and for the first time since Chuck had met her years
ago, she looked young and happy.
Mako and Jazmine had married not long after their dragon had chosen a gender.
They had not been surprised one bit, when they glowed upon looking at one
another, and had promptly made it official. As far as Chuck knew, the only
other Rangers who had been similarly unsurprised had been the Gages and the
Kaidanovskys. And in the history of the program, their’s was only the third
such case. Not that Jaz could be convinced that made it any less impressive or
important.
The unease of having two male dragons in the Shatterdome had settled when Baby
had gendered male as well. And while he had a perfectly acceptable name -
Kaiten Sierra - everyone still called him Baby, thanks to years of Jaz’s
blatant flouting of dragon rearing. He didn’t seem to mind however, and
actually responded to it so often, they had stopped introducing him to new crew
by his designation and simply referred to him as Baby. They got a great kick
out of it when paperwork went wonky due to the fact that no one managed to make
the mental connection that Baby was Kaiten - all except Stacker of course, who
spent hours chewing out crew and officers alike for not managing to keep
something as simple as their own assigned dragon’s name correct on official
documentation.
There was talk of moving, but it never seemed to pan out properly. Chuck
couldn’t quite place it, and perhaps it had a lot to do with Stacker’s own
personal agenda, but every time rumors cropped up about a possible ‘Dome shift,
it never actually occurred. He never particularly cared, so he never got around
to asking. He was with his family, where his child could have access to all the
motherly care of her family, and he and his husbands could remain near for the
support of Jaz and Mako’s son, who was often in trouble, though to be fair,
Angela tended to mostly get him into it. Four years passed before Stacker made
good on his word and married the Hansen brothers. Angela and Van in the actual
marriage party as the first official flower girl and ring bearer the ‘Dome had
ever seen in a wedding ceremony. They’d skipped a honeymoon as well, citing
work as a need to stay on, even though they were all well aware their children
could handle any work they left for as long as they had need of time away.
Chuck suspected they knew that and didn’t want to give anyone any room to
consider prodding them for retirement - though they were still young.
The official move came only months later, when the call for breeding dragons
meant Baby had to report to Alaska. Angela rode on Striker with them, in a
modified suit, strapped to Chuck, and shrieking in delight for the first hour.
She soon fell asleep, and he had to adjust her for her own comfort. They paused
twice, to switch around passengers. Van was riding with Jaz and Mako, and
Angela wanted to ride Gipsy with her blonder parents. So Angela ended up
strapped to Raleigh, and Chuck and his father offered to take Van for Mako and
Jaz as an equal change up. As they were making the trip together - all
rotations occurring in groups of threes and fours - it was easy to change it
up, and by the end of the trip, each child had ridden a third of the way - even
if they’d slept for a great deal of it - upon each dragon. Which meant by the
end of the trip, Chuck, Raleigh and Jazmine had equally sore legs from bracing
their children, and protecting them from wind currents.
Ironically, they’d travelled five thousand twenty-two miles, for Baby to end up
mating with Romeo, who had been a group behind them in the transfer. The egg
was - to Angela and Van - a grand adventure, and because they were Legacies,
Baby encouraged their interest in it. Having been a second generation PPDC
dragon himself, Baby took great interest in the egg, and seemed to revert to
his dragon roots, nesting and caring for it, while Romeo - being an older, once
wilder dragon - took long coastal patrols, sharp eyes ever fixed out toward the
ocean.
Angela and Van preferred being out in the dragon pens to anything resembling
schoolwork, though they were both intelligent, exceptionally perceptive
children who grasped concepts easily for their tender ages. But being back in
the states meant a more structured system, and they were forced to attend pre-
school, and later kindergarten, with other children their age. Their formative
years having predisposed them to one another meant they had difficulty making
friends, though they were friendly enough. There was just something about other
children that seemed to agitate them.
“They’re just stupid,” Angela complained one day.
“Hey,” Yancy scolded, he had half of her long strawberry blonde hair curled in
his palm, a brush in his other hand. He looked intimidating even to Chuck who
knew he would never harm her. There was just something about the image of a
child with their hair caught that rankled him. He didn’t know why. “What did we
tell you about using that word?”
“Sorry,” she pouted, gaze lowering so she was looking up at him through ungodly
long eyelashes Chuck had no idea as to the origin of. “But, Papa!”
“No, but Papa. You do not hurt other people’s feelings by calling them names.
Even when they’re not around to hear it. Do I make myself clear? Angela
Dominique.”
“Oui, Papa,” she replied miserably, eyes downcast.
“Yancy,” Chuck said, throat tight.
Yancy looked up, as did their daughter, and Chuck made a helpless motion toward
her hair. His husband looked down with a frown at where their daughter’s hair
was held in a steady grip. He wasn’t holding it any tighter than he had been
when he was brushing it, but he seemed to recognize it was causing Chuck
distress, and he released it immediately.
Angela sniffed, head tilting up to look at him.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Papa’s hand slipped.”
She took it in stride, sitting still again while Yancy brushed it out, eyes on
Chuck. Raleigh walked in to find them in a silent stand off, and wrapped both
arms around Chuck, drawing him close and kissing his temple. “What’s wrong?” he
whispered, distracting him long enough for Yancy to finish off Angela’s hair
out of Chuck’s line of sight.
Chuck shook his head, rubbing Raleigh’s side to hopefully convey he was all
right. Raleigh hesitated a moment before letting him go, having no choice, as
Angela ran up to him with a delighted, “Daddy!” He turned to scoop her up,
bouncing her once in his arms and kissing her cheek noisily as Yancy traded
off, following Chuck into the kitchen.
“You know I’d never hurt her,” he said, pausing by the counter to give Chuck
the room he felt he needed.
Chuck went to him, to reassure him. “I know,” he replied, wrapping his arms
about him and kissing him gently. “I just…” He shook his head. “I can’t explain
it.”
“I can,” Yancy replied, kissing him against the opposite temple Raleigh had
graced. “You can’t stand to see a kid trapped. You can’t explain it, because
you don’t remember your time in the fissure, but you still get that knotted up
feeling inside when it looks like a kid can’t get out of a situation -
regardless of whether or not it was by their own choosing.”
Chuck stared at him in surprise.
Yancy shrugged and smoothed his hair back, before kissing him once sweetly.
“Rals and I noticed.”
“When?”
“When we first put Angela in a play pen and you just about had an attack. You
never liked the crib. You pick her up every time she screams. You’re not
spoiling her, Chuck, you’re protecting her. It’s all right, we understand.”
“I hadn’t...I never…”
“We know. And we didn’t want to tell you, because…” He sighed. “You were doing
so well. We were happy. We just thought, if we could keep on top of it...I’m
sorry, sweetheart. I should have noti-” His lips pressed a kiss to Chuck’s
fingers above them.
“Don’t apologize, Yancy. I should be apologizing. Hell, I mean...what the hell
is wrong with me that I-”
“Stop,” Yancy countered, his voice slightly muffled by Chuck’s fingers over his
lips. He’d pressed his own over Chuck’s lips and it occurred to him they
probably made an interesting sight. It almost brought a smile to his face.
Almost.
Yancy reached up and freed his fingers from over his lips with the hand he’d
been using to pause Chuck’s own speaking. He squeezed it gently, lowering their
hands to chest height. Chuck realized by the glinting of metal it was their
left. The symbol of their unified happiness eased something tight in his chest.
“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for. And there’s nothing wrong
with you,” he added quickly as Chuck opened his mouth to speak. “Sometimes we
hold on to things. We can’t even explain them to ourselves. But, we’ve all seen
our fair share of trauma, and I think it’s safe to say there will always be
situations where we need to give one another leeway and others where we’ll need
to support one another. For better or for worse, Chuck. No matter what comes
our way.”
Chuck smiled and kissed him, wrapping both arms around him and groaning softly
into his mouth. Sometimes, he loved them so much he felt like he just might
burst with it.
“Are they being smoochy?” Raleigh said loudly.
“Yeah,” Angela replied, in what she clearly thought was a conspiratory tone,
but was nearly as loud as Raleigh’s own grab for their attention.
“Sheesh. What are we going to do about them.”
“You might want to run, before we drag you into this,” Yancy replied, lips
parting from Chuck’s with a soft sound.
Raleigh dropped to his knees and set Angela down. “Run baby girl! I’ll distract
them. I may get the cooties but it’ll be worth it if it saves you!”
She giggled and hurried off.
“The cooties?” Chuck replied, one eyebrow arched.
Raleigh got up and trotted over to them. “My daughter is kissing NO ONE until
she’s thirty-five.”
Chuck snorted.
“Come here you,” Yancy replied, drawing him close.
“Help. Help. The cooties,” Raleigh deadpanned in a low voice.
“I’ll give you cooties,” Yancy countered, tugging him close and blowing a
raspberry against his neck.
Raleigh squealed.
“I’m married to this,” Chuck told the ceiling.
“And don’t you forget it!” Raleigh remarked and tugged him close to do the
same.
The Breach may have been closed, but it didn’t affect their status. Every so
often Yancy would groan and complain about being too old to be in the saddle
for hours on end. Raleigh and Chuck took it upon themselves to remind him how
young he remained, and just how much they appreciated every moment he spent
honing his body atop Gipsy’s back. It didn’t keep him from getting an Academy
job. One which soon sucked in the whole family. Chuck couldn’t exactly recall
how he’d ended up teaching Advanced Dragonology, but he had to admit, he
enjoyed every moment. Raleigh taught Tactics. And Yancy, for all he complained,
was an aerial combat instructor. Occasionally they’d marshal the dragons to run
maneuvers to show the cadets what they truly looked like. And every time, the
adrenaline surged in Chuck’s veins, his body prepped and ready, and no enemy in
sight. It made it difficult to come down from, and they spent a lot of
afternoons working off the frustration of being battle ready with no opponent,
before one of them went to pick up Angela from school.
Because cadets were still graduating, and the dragons still breeding for the
cause, they were forced to attend the graduations. In full military uniform.
Chuck planned to get Yancy back for getting them into that particular mess as
soon as he could think of something suitably equivalent.
As they did every year, all students of every age group attended, with the
children sitting at the front to better view - and hopefully be lured into the
program - the process. Which meant as kindergarteners, Angela and Van were in
the front row when the eggs began hatching. So, it was no surprise really, when
Baby’s egg hatched, scanned the candidates, and promptly turned it’s back on
them all, clamoring toward the bleachers.
Angela squealed in delight as it stopped at her feet and craned its small neck,
damp foreclaws closing about her knees as it nuzzled her. She wrapped both arms
enthusiastically around it. Chuck sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’d
warned them. He’d said. Had anyone listened?
Uncle Scott laughed loudly. And while his elder brother nudged him to rein it
in, he was grinning broadly. The Marshall, likewise, looked distinctly smug.
Yancy groaned. Raleigh snorted. He leaned across the distance as it climbed up
into Angela’s lap, reaching out to lick Van across the cheek. “What are the
odds we get stuck with another lightning dragon?” he asked gleefully.
“Aw Christ,” Yancy groaned, mimicking Chuck’s earlier pose, hand dragging
across his face more slowly, as if he could undo the sight before him by simply
not looking. He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want this for her,” he mumbled into
his own skin.
“She’s wanted her own dragon since she was old enough to understand what one
was,” Raleigh commented. “We were always headed toward this. It just happened
sooner than we expected.”
“I SAID!” Chuck snapped loudly. “When Jaz offered to carry her, I said! We
bleeding signed up for this the moment we said, alright, let’s make a baby!”
Several cadets were looking at them, and Chuck cleared his throat, dropping his
spread arms, which had been extended as if showcasing the view before them
would make his point any more clear.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, that’s Gipsy’s granddragonling alright!” Raleigh cried,
suddenly leaping off the dais and running for the pair of children happily
cuddling their newly hatched dragonling. He scooped it up swiftly and held it
above his head. It gave a hiccup, wings flaring and sparks traveled the length
of Raleigh’s dress jacket, sending his hair upright.
“You weren’t bloody kidding!” Chuck gasped, looking to Yancy wide eyed.
“Well…” Yancy sighed. “There go the carpets.” He pulled a notepad out of his
pocket and began scribbling. Every so often Chuck could hear him mumble
something to himself. “Chair. Comforter. Electric toothbrush. Treadmill.”
“How much is this going to impact our quality of life?” Chuck asked seriously,
eyes widening when he looked over the list.
“That depends,” Yancy replied, as Angela burst into giggles, poking Raleigh’s
static cling dress jacket, and cuddling the dragonling in one arm. “How happy
were you living out in the pens all those years?”
There were days Chuck wondered if it has all been worth it. The loss of his
mother, the way he never looked back. The two nights spent unconscious, buried
alive in a fissure, wrapped around a dragon egg. Days he looked back and
wondered, what if? What if the Kaiju never attacked? What if his mother had
never died? Would he have ended up as happy as he was? Or would he have
followed in her projected footsteps, all cold nights alone in the dark, and
overheating in the thick brush, trying to observe the dragons in their natural
habitat while not disturbing them.
There were nights he dreamed of her. Of being held in her arms, safe and
secure. Danced around a sunny kitchen. Of the view from their home, and the
wrap around they never locked. He could feel her hands on his face, the push of
his backpack, heavy with a dragon egg. The tight embrace he’d never wanted to
leave. The clasp of her fingers against his skin as she placed last desperate
kisses all over his freckles.
The trust she’d had in him. In her only chance to save her only child. The way
her voice had sounded when she’d told him, “Run.”
As a parent, he is able to look back on those memories and see the good in
them. The love, instead of the heartbreak. The sacrifice no true parent would
be able to ignore. Their own life in the place of their child.
He can see her in Angela. In the way she danced when she was happy, and the
loud, joyful, explosive way she laughed. His mother was in the long sweep of
her lashes - he’d finally noticed one day. She was in her love of climbing
trees and running through puddles barefoot. She was in her spirit. Wild and
carefree, and so very giving.
His mother hadn’t left him. She hadn’t died, not truly. She’d left enough of
herself in his very bones that he could see her mirrored in his daughter every
day of her life. And it brought a distinct peace he’d never thought he’d find
again.
The love of a parent for their child.
She’d shown him the way. And he was living the reverse, with her good example
as his guide.
“We didn’t really need the house,” he said, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“It was too much work, if we’re being honest.”
“Uh-huh,” Tendo replied, swiveling in his chair. He leveled his gaze. “So it
had absolutely nothing to do with the dragonling exploding your fuse box in a
game of hide and seek and nearly setting the house on fire.”
Chuck threw up his hands. “It’s like a magnet for trouble! Striker was never
this bad! Why in the name of all things sacred did Angela have t’ bond with a
lightning dragon!”
Tendo laughed and patted his thigh sympathetically. “I hear the insurance money
might even be enough you could probably sublet.”
“Fucking bite me, Elvis!” He threw up his arms, standing. “I am gonna spend the
rest of my life in Shatterdomes!”
Tendo stood and slapped him against the back. “Well...at least-” They both
looked up as the lights flickered and died, LOCCENT going quiet with an eerie
sound of being unplugged.
“OOPS!” Angela’s birdlike voice could be heard carrying through the halls. “We
didn’t mean to! We’re sorry! It was a accident!”
“When are you leaving?”
As they raced out to deal with the damage control, neither noticed Tendo’s
console come online, a soft yellow light begin beeping.
In the cold dark of the Antarctic, below the ice flows, if one looked just
right, they might see the shine of bioluminescence against the thick sheets. Of
course, it could also be said, Antarctic teams went a little mad out in the
snow for so long.
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