Chapter Text
In Motorcity, it's easy to get hold of alcohol. Mike never had it before he came down--the Cadet Corps is all about clean living, if you don't count the stimulants and other stuff a lot of them are on--but Dutch and Chuck are more familiar with it from working in Deluxe R&D. Apparently when you stick a lot of really smart people together and tell them to make stuff, one of the things they make is alcohol.
This time Dutch got his hands on something sweet that burns and makes Mike’s head spin. Drinking with his friends is fun, getting all relaxed and giggly and kind of overheated until he takes his jacket off. Texas catcalls and Dutch snickers something about a strip tease, Julie just about falls over laughing and Chuck hides his flushed face in his hands, giggling. Mike flushes too, even though it’s obviously a joke, because he wasn’t, the jacket’s all he’s taking off, but it’s okay, everyone’s having fun. He grins at them all and leans on Chuck, taking another drink. Chuck isn't unsteady at all yet, even though he’s had as much as Mike; it takes way more to get him really tipsy.
By the time Mike decides to head to bed he’s weaving on his feet, and Chuck may still be walking okay, helping Mike stay upright with an arm around him, but he's got that loopy kind of smile that Mike’s come to recognize. It's good! It's nice that they can all relax like this, Mike and his awesome friends.
He's telling Chuck that as they make their way up the stairs, trying to explain how awesome they all are, especially Chuck, because Chuck never listens when he's sober, but maybe right now he'll believe Mike. Chuck snickers and sighs and keeps Mike from falling down the stairs, and even if he doesn't really sound like he believes any of it, at least for once he's not arguing with Mike.
“Oh my god, Mikey,” he says, helping Mike into his room and kicking the door shut behind them. “You're the cutest drunk I know, it's totally not fair.”
“Aww, no, Chuckles,” Mike says as they wobble towards his bed. “You guys are all way cuter. Texas gets all, like, huggy and stuff and Julie's smiley and chill and… Dutch says really funny stuff and you're just all relaxed and happy and it's great! You're super cute. I mean you're always cute, but you've got a really cute giggle.” Is he making sense? Doesn't matter, Chuck will know what he means.
“Right,” Chuck says, letting him drop to sit on his bed with a bounce, “Texas is the one who gets clingy and tactile, sure.”
Reluctantly, Mike lets go of Chuck’s wrist.
Chuck grins at him. “Come on, bro, I bet you can't get your boots off without help.”
“Can too!” Mike says immediately, and starts trying, but he's all clumsy and he doesn't remember the angle being this weird usually, and after watching him struggle a minute Chuck crouches down, giggling, and bats his hands away. He gets Mike’s boots off like it's easy, although of course he's got the right angle for it.
It's kind of weird to have him down there, kneeling at Mike’s feet, and it's weirder when he sits up and his hands go to Mike’s belt. “You sleep shirtless, right?” he says, unbuckling it. “Think you can get your t-shirt off by yourself?”
“Uh, yeah,” Mike says indignantly, forgetting the weirdness, and then somehow almost tangles himself in his shirt trying to pull it off. The air is cool on his bare skin when he tosses it aside in triumph, and Chuck is snickering at him, fingers nimble on--oh, on the button of Mike’s pants.
“I--you don't have to undress me, dude,” Mike says uncertainly as a wave of heat goes through his whole body. “I can do it myself.”
“Sure, maybe,” Chuck says in a dubious tone, “and maybe without me you'd be sleeping in your boots and everything.”
“I--dude! Yeah, but you don't hafta--” and it's too late. Chuck’s got him unbuttoned and unzipped and Mike is--agh, he can't help how he's reacting, Chuck’s hands are right there and he's all relaxed and pink-cheeked and on his knees and--Mike just really hopes he doesn't notice. Anything. Because. Even if the reaction is happening slower than usual, Chuck noticing it would be awkward and Chuck probably wouldn't appreciate it.
Chuck tries to manhandle Mike’s pants down, which doesn't help anything, and Mike drops back on his elbows and lifts his hips to help, biting his lip to keep from moaning. His pants pull off his hips and down his legs and Chuck tosses them onto the chair by the foot of Mike’s bed, belt buckle jingling. When he turns back Mike’s just in his shorts and--it'd be hard to miss the condition he's in, is all.
And judging by the way Chuck has kind of… paused, he definitely hasn't missed it. Mike watches his face anxiously, the parted lips and pink cheeks, eyes hidden behind his bangs. There's got to be a way to fix the awkwardness--
Chuck makes a quiet little hum and licks his lips. “Lemme help you with that,” he says, and reaches--oh god. Mike kind of whines behind his teeth, because Chuck just pulled out Mike’s dick, which twitches and gets a little harder, and then he ducks his head and puts his mouth on it.
Mike’s elbows go out and he drops onto his back, gasping and moaning what seems like way too loud. It feels so good, though, he can't keep quiet, so he stuffs the back of his wrist in his mouth to muffle himself.
“Aw, no,” Chuck says, pulling away, and Mike whimpers because his hand is still there, his fingers moving idly on Mike. “C’mon, bro, keep making noise for me, you sound so good.”
Chuck likes the way he sounds, oh wow. Mike drops his hand again, clawing up handfuls of the rumpled covers and moaning desperately, and Chuck hums contentedly and goes back to what he was doing. God, it feels amazing. Chuck is amazing, he's really good at this. Not that Mike would probably be able to tell if he wasn't, it's not like Mike has any experience at this, but he's pretty sure he’s right.
Everything is incredible, hot and wet and good, and Mike is making hoarse shaky noises, hips bucking as Chuck presses them down against the bed. It feels like Mike’s barely finished getting all the way hard when Chuck does something with his tongue and Mike comes fast and hard and loud.
When the light show behind his eyes dies away, he lies still, panting, shudders running through him. God that was good. Maybe too fast, Mike kinda wishes he'd been able to hold on longer, but really, really good.
After a moment Chuck licks him one last time, getting a whimper, and pulls away, tucking him back in his shorts. “Nice,” Chuck says. “There you go, dude, now you’ll sleep better. Think you can get into bed yourself?”
Staring at him, still dazed with afterglow, Mike manages a nod and a breathless grin. “...Thanks,” he says. He's pretty sure there's something else he ought to say, but more words escape him right now.
Chuck cracks up laughing, arms propped on Mike’s knees. “Oh my god, you're way too cute. Ah, geez.” He pats Mike on the thigh. “No problem, bro.” Rolling smoothly to his feet, he heads for the door as Mike stares distractedly at his butt. Mike kind of wants to grab that, but it's moving away.
“Sleep well, Mikey,” Chuck says with a sly grin over his shoulder, pulling the door open, and slips out.
Oh, he left. No butt-touching at all, dang. Mike’s floating too high to mind much right now, though. Tomorrow is plenty of time to try to persuade Chuck to let Mike touch his butt.
He fumbles his way under the covers and sprawls comfortably, completely pleased with life. He can ask Chuck tomorrow, and maybe Chuck will want to touch Mike’s butt. Maybe they can like, make out and stuff. Yeah. Oh man, it's gonna be awesome.
*
In the morning, Mike bounces out of bed and through his morning routine, looking forward to whenever Chuck wakes up. It's not until he's in the shower, reviewing the events of the night before, that he realizes the odd thing about the whole interaction. Or, odd things, really, because there was more than one.
Like, even drunk, Chuck was pretty relaxed about that whole thing. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Which it was, Mike would remember if that had ever happened before! But Chuck acted like he did that all the time, smooth and easy.
He was really good at it, too, he's obviously had a lot of practice. Probably back in R&D with the other techies--Dutch explained in a late-night conversation once about how in R&D the guys would help each other out without it being a big deal, just a friendly thing.
Kind of like last night, maybe? Chuck sure didn't act like it was a big deal.
So… Mike frowns to himself, stepping out of the shower. If it's like that, that's kind of different than what Mike was thinking. He was thinking boyfriend kind of stuff, but Chuck probably isn't interested in that. Which is fair, Mike’s not going to push him into anything he doesn't want. But if Chuck is willing to do some stuff, even just in a friendly, R&D kind of way, that's still better than not being able to touch him at all. Probably.
No, definitely. Mike can totally keep it to a friendly thing, he's almost sure.
So, if it's a friendly thing, does that mean he ought to repay the favor? Is that how that works? Because Mike is definitely willing to do that, even if he doesn't really know how, he'll figure it out!
Maybe he should ask Chuck, just to make sure.
He doesn't run into Chuck until late in the morning, coming out of the bathroom with wet hair and a bleary look. He stiffens when he sees Mike, which seems like a bad sign. Maybe Mike was supposed to return the favor last night? Except he didn't really have a chance to even say much before Chuck left.
Licking his lips, he does his best to sound normal when he says, “So, hey, Dutch mentioned about the--the R&D thing where you, like, help your friends out and stuff, but I don't really know how it's supposed to work. Was I, am I supposed to help you out now, or should I have offered last night, or is it just…”
Chuck’s mouth is open, his face flushing, and the sliver of one blue eye Mike can see behind his bangs is wide.
“...The next time you need a hand you'll let me know, or what?” Mike finishes.
“Oh,” Chuck croaks, and swallows. “Um. I, ah. You, I mean, yeah, obviously, um, yes! The deal is that you let me know anytime you want a hand, and I, uh, do too. Yeah. Yes.” He flushes darker and looks away, raking a hand through his damp bangs.
“Okay, cool,” Mike says, nodding. It seems kind of unfair, though, that he got off last night and Chuck didn't. “So you don't need, um, anything right now?”
“Oh,” Chuck says, looking back at him. “Oh, well, I…” He takes a breath and says kind of low and mumbling, “No, I could definitely use a hand, if, um, yeah.”
Mike grins, his heartbeat picking up. “Cool,” he says. “In here?” He nods to the bathroom.
“Uh, sure,” Chuck says, high-pitched, and stumbles back inside.
Mike follows him in, conscientiously closing the door, and looks Chuck over. Yeah, his jeans are definitely starting to look a little strained.
“So,” Mike says, “should I--” he gestures to the floor, hesitating to kneel down, “I don't know how to, um--”
“Oh no,” Chuck says in a hurry, “no, that's totally okay, dude, you can just use your hand, that's. Fine.”
“Are you sure? I can try to--”
Chuck breaks into giggles and claps a hand over his mouth to try to stop, takes a few quick breaths and says, “Thanks, bro, but if you don't know how, there's some places I don't feel like getting bit.”
“I wouldn't bite!” Mike says, injured, and steps forward to get Chuck’s jeans open.
“Not on purpose oh god,” Chuck says, and drops his head back against the wall.
Mike pulls Chuck’s dick out and realizes biting might be harder to avoid than he thought, because it's kind of thick. Fitting that in his mouth is something he'll have to work on, he guesses. He strokes a couple of times, getting a feel for it, and Chuck puts a hand over his mouth again to muffle a whimper.
“Oh, hey,” Mike says, grinning at him, “that's not fair! You told me to go on and make noise, you can't go and be quiet now!”
“I totally can,” Chuck gasps, “because dude I'm so--oh, fuck--ssso much louder than you--if I don't cover my mouth the whole hideout will hear.”
“Oh wow,” Mike says, kind of breathless. “Well now I definitely wanna hear you.”
“You'll hear me, okay? Mmh! You'll--god, uh, s-softer, not so--looser, just--yeah, like that, ah!”
Wow, Chuck is right, he is loud. It puts this pulsing heat in Mike’s gut, listening to him moan and swear as his hips rock up into Mike’s hand. Mike does his best to keep his grip like Chuck wants it and keeps stroking quick and steady. Chuck pants and shudders, hips moving in counterpoint to Mike's hand, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. If Mike had known before that Chuck could look like this, sound like this, he would never have been able to stop thinking about him, imagining touching him.
He lasts long enough that Mike kind of wonders if he's doing it right, but then Chuck finally comes, shaking and moaning, and Mike keeps stroking carefully until Chuck squeaks and twitches his hips away, gasping for breath. Mike lets go and steps back to give him a little space, but can't stop staring with a breathless grin, leaning back against the sink. His hand’s kind of sticky and he washes it off, wipes it dry on his pants.
“Holy crap,” Chuck says shakily.
“Yeah? That was okay?” Mike says.
“Yeah,” Chuck says. “Yeah, that--definitely, yup.” He licks his lips, eyes flickering down Mike’s body and catching on where his pants are kind of tight right now. “So,” he says, gaze fixing there before he hastily looks away, licking his lips. “Can I return the favor?”
Mike hadn't realized that was a possibility, and perks up only to realize, “Oh, but, then I'll owe you again. I mean, not that I mind--”
Chuck laughs, shaking his head. “That's not how it works, bro. It'd be silly to keep a tally, we just--” he shrugs, “help each other out whenever the other guy needs it.”
“Oh, cool! Then yeah, buddy, that'd be great!”
So Chuck opens Mike's pants and jerks him off while Mike stares down at his big, clever hand on Mike's dick. Chuck does it differently than Mike does, more--deliberate, sort of, more measured, and twists his hand and runs his thumb around the head every now and again. It's so good Mike comes pretty fast, again, which is kind of embarrassing, but Chuck doesn't laugh at him or anything, just gives him a shy grin, cleaning up.
“Cool,” Chuck says when he's done, nervous fingers combing through his bangs. “Well, um. Breakfast,” he mumbles, and ducks out the door.
Mike blinks after him, feeling kind of… weirdly disappointed, he guesses. That's probably dumb, especially when he's still all floaty with afterglow. He sort of wanted to try kissing Chuck, maybe, but that's probably outside the limits of this ‘help a buddy out’ thing. Which is fine, it's not like he's going to complain or get pushy or anything. It's fine.
*
The rest of the day is good! The Burners go out to take care of a Kanebot attack and run into Red, which is a pain, but nobody gets hurt and they take care of the bots fine. When they get back, Mike spars with Texas and helps Jacob with his tomatoes, and then there's deliveries to make, and Chuck comes along as usual.
Which is great! Obviously, that's not a problem or anything. It's funny how Mike is a little nervous around him now, is all. He can't figure out how long to look at him, or how much to talk, or anything. He keeps wondering when Chuck might be up for more favors, if he's waiting for Mike to say something first or if Mike shouldn't, if that'd be pushy. Probably guys don't ask for a hand that often, in R&D. Mike doesn't want to do it wrong and weird Chuck out.
Finally on the way back to the hideout, Chuck gives a long sigh and interrupts Mike’s rambling to say, “Mikey, seriously, you can chill, okay? I'm not gonna, like, jump you and grab your dick, or shove your hand down my pants, or whatever you're thinking. You can just relax.”
Mike gapes at him, and then has to jerk the wheel to keep the car on the road, getting a yelp from Chuck. “I wasn't--dude!” Mike says, confused and a little injured. “I didn't think you were gonna do that! Any of that. Geez.”
“Uh-huh!” Chuck says, still high-pitched from the sharp turn. “So why do you keep--looking at me and then looking away, and acting all weird and edgy! I freaked you out, just admit it! I never should’ve--I'm such an idiot!”
“Chuck! You're not an idiot, geez, you didn't do anything wrong! I'm not--”
“So why are you all twitchy and weird, then?” Chuck snaps.
Mike rolls his eyes. “Come on, dude. It's just--different, okay?” He swallows, hopes he's not blushing visibly. “I'm just, you know. Wondering, like, how it's supposed to work, and if I'm supposed to, you know, not ask twice in one day, I mean, it doesn't really seem fair to ask a lot, and I don't want to--”
“Oh,” Chuck says, “you were just--oh.” He giggles once, runs a hand over his face. “No, that's… not an issue, bro, I mean, uh. It's not like helping you out is a big deal or anything. I can, whatever. Just lemme know when, uh, you want a hand.” He shrugs. “I mean, you can pull over right now if you want.”
Mike isn't sure what pulling over has to do with--oh! Oh wow, he means like, right now. Mike could--and Chuck would--oh wow.
At first he thinks he probably shouldn't. Then he realizes he's getting hard, because Chuck offered and now Mike's thinking about it and if it's really okay, then…
They're on a ground-level road now, off the high passes, circling in towards the hideout through abandoned residential areas. “Why do I have to pull over?” he says. “It's not like anyone's around.”
Chuck snorts. “Because there's no way I'm giving you a handjob while you're driving, Mikey, that's just stupidly unsafe. Stop the car or nothing doing.”
Mike rolls his eyes, but it's the kind of thing Chuck doesn't back down on, so he pulls to a halt and even turns off the car, giving Chuck a pointed look, there, happy now? Chuck rolls his eyes back, but he's smiling a little as he undoes his safety harness.
“You gonna unbuckle yourself,” he says, “or am I doing all the work here?”
Mike hastily takes off his seat belt, then opens his belt and pants while he's at it. Chuck leans over the gap between the seats, propping an elbow on the back of Mike's seat, licks his hand and wraps it around Mike's dick. Even though Mike's expecting it, he still gasps, Chuck's hand broad and cool and careful on him. It's so different to be touched by someone else, strange and shivery-good, making Mike's heart thump like he's taking Mutt over a jump blind.
“Breathe, bro,” Chuck says, amused but sounding a little breathless himself.
“Nnh, right, I, I'm breathing,” Mike gasps, hips shuddering up into Chuck's hand.
It doesn't take very long this time either. Mike thinks he should be getting better at lasting a while, but maybe it's gonna take more practice. Like, a lot more. Maybe every day.
Chuck wipes his hand off on a tissue and sits back up, buckling himself in again as Mike works on getting his breath back and stares kind of blankly through the windshield, coming down.
“Oh, hey,” Mike says when he recovers, glancing over, dazed and grinning. Chuck's pants are definitely looking tight. “I can--”
“I'm fine, thanks,” Chuck says. “Let's just, uh, get back.”
Mike stares at him, grin shrinking. “I--I don't mind, buddy, I mean it's only fair, right?”
“Fair,” Chuck mutters. “Right. No, dude, I'm good, okay?”
Mike swallows. “Okay,” he says, because there doesn't seem to be another option.
The rest of the drive home is silent.