simplepuzzle | For brains_before

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For brains_before_bullets

They've landed in Hong Kong, and Chuck's seen the 'great' Raleigh Becket for the first time in years, and Chuck

Chuck needs a drink.

So yeah, he's grabbing Jax and dragging him out to a bar. The weirdo scientists' predictions for the next event are in enough time for him to get wasted and get over the hangover, so he is taking fucking advantage of that. He needs beer and he needs to rant at someone who isn't all fucking gaga over the has-been, and Jax is perfect for that. Even if he could be his twin.

"He can't be th only surviving mark three pilot," he's muttering into his third pint.

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"Bro, you're talking to the wrong person about this."

Jax's Californian accent is slurred through his fourth, because, yeah. He saw Raleigh... right before the two of them got called into Pentecost's office.

Turns out that the great Raleigh Becket and the sketchy Jackson Teller were related... not just long-lost second demi-cousin... like brothers-related.

Safe to say that neither took the news well. And it ended with Jax storming out of Pentecost's office, with the Marshall's gaze drilling into the reaper on his back.

So, yeah. He needed to drink more than Chuck. He might not get another chance.

"And you're fuckin' obsessing again."

Yeah, the brother thing had been a real kick. Chuck's going to make fun of him later.

He scowls and gestures for more beer and liquor.

"Fuck you, I'm not," he mutters, kicking Jax in the ankle. "Not over a stupid fucking....hasbeen. I don't obsess, I reasonably discuss. And dislike."

"No, you don't."

And you get a gentle clip across the back of the head. Don't kick him.

"You bitch, and moan, and whine."

"Reasonable dislike and dsc.... Talk about." Oh good the shots are here.

Chuck growls and seats at Jax's hand.

"Don't hit me, I'm a pilot."

Taking one and downing it.

"Good. You're paying."

Chuck knocks another one back before reaching for the new beer.

"No, I'm not, the nice people who are thankful for my heroics are paying for this," Chuck smirks at people down the bar who are staring at him.

An eyeroll.

"You're a damn piece of work, Hansen."

"Because I'm famous and people are grateful?" Chuck knocks another shot back and shakes his head.

"What was I talking about?"

"No, 'cause we're building up an expensive bar tab."

He shifts back to his beer.

"And I get the sinking suspicion you'll leave me with it."

Nope. Not reminding him. He doesn't want to talk about Raleigh Becket.

"Look, do you want to ge super drunk or do you want to be responsible?"

He can always drink Jax's drink for him, if he's that worried.

Is that Jax's beer bottle being pulled in closer? Protectively?

Maybe.

"Fine. As long as I'm not responsible for you again."

"For the last time, I was not aiming for you."

Though he smirks at Jax's curl around his beer. "Drunk as you are, I think I'm the one worrying."

"Bullshit." Jax grumbles back. "I can handle my alcohol."

"See, that'd be the cue for you to fall off your stool or something."

Chuck's snickering into his beer.

No, but that joke is Jax's cue to try and shove Chuck off of his.

Chuck yelps in protest and grasps Jax's arm to steady himself as he's pushed off. He doesn't hit the floor, but he does push him back.

"You're such an arsehole," he mutters. "Why do I like you."

"I was thinkin' the same fuckin' thing."

Jax had to grab the bar in order not to lose his balance. He was still sitting, but he's planted a foot on the floor as he tries to pull his arm free.

"Let go."

"Because people pay your tab," Chuck smugs, keeping his grip on the limb but shifting it to his elbow as he takes his seat again.

"And I'm cute, and you think I'm funny." He said 'hang out with', right?

"Let go or I'll punch ya in the fuckin' face."

This said as he takes a gulp of his beer.

"We'll see how cute you are with a broken nose."

"A-fuckin-dor able."

But he lets go and leans against the bar.

"Whatever."

Have a half-hearted shove agains the side of your head, Hansen, before Jax moves to stand.

"Gotta use the bathroom."

Chuck just grins at the shove and takes another pull from his beer.

"Have fun pissing," he says cheerfully.

...he might check out Jax's butt as he passes.

It takes about ten minutes before Jax comes back, leaning against the bar. He reaches over to finish his beer, before looking at Chuck.

"Can we go?"

Okay but Chuck has dragged his gaze away because Jax has made his feelings--or lack thereof--very clear and Chuck needs to move the fuck on.

"Yeah." Chuck drains his own bottle and gestures to the bartender; despite the bravado and bragging, he's totally willing to pay his own way.

And Jax moves to pull his wallet out to pay his half.

Something seems... different about him.

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