A/N: Done by the request of my friend Blue

Chuck slammed the door to his room, shutting out both his father and beloved pup, but he needed to be alone. The old man would take care of Max for the night, they'd survive he was sure. Pulling off his shirts and tossing them into a corner of his room to be forgotten for a few nights he falls onto his bed and winces, remembering how tender his everything was now that the adrenalin from his fight with Raleigh had worn off.

He gave a huff and glared up at his ceiling. Raleigh.

That washed up, useless prick. Getting all pissy because he insulted his little girlfriend. Chuck thought Rangers were supposed to have better control over themselves, they were supposed to be calm and collected, able to take any sort of verbal lashing that came their way. Apparently, call someone a bitch and all that composure flies out the window as the first punch is thrown.

Raleigh could really throw a punch.

Chuck kicked off his boots, letting them fall with a thunk off the foot of his bed. How was he supposed to trust those two with his mission if they couldn't even drift without trying to blow the entire Shatterdome up? Pentecost was insane if he thought they were fit to save the world. Mako was a rookie and a child, they had no idea if she'd even be able to handle combat. Raleigh was a beat up, mediocre pilot who let his brother die and then hid on a wall in Alaska for five years.

Why had he ever looked up to that hunk of junk Gipsy Danger anyway? He must have been a dumb kid.

He remembered Raleigh and Yancy on the television years ago. How they'd been heroes, Rangers who had taken down every Kaiju they had faced off with. Chuck could recall wanted an older brother like Yancy Becket rather than the hardass father he had. And he remembered what he'd thought of Raleigh, a teenager at the time with a touch of hero worship and a budding sexuality that no one had time to address. He'd done what he could though, with a hand, some tissues, and lotion.

Raleigh was just as good looking now as he'd been then, and it had really pissed Chuck off the first time he'd seen him in person. Chuck was an adult now, the hero worship of his youth gone and the cold truth of doomsday staring him in the face. Yet, there Raleigh was, scuffed hair, light stubble, arms that could make lesser humans swoon. Five years of grimy construction work was supposed to hollow him out, make him seem like the fallen hero that he was. His eyes held less fire now, they were haunted with loss, but God were they still breathtaking if you looked too long.

With a grunt Chuck gave up and opened his pants, nudging them down far enough for him to pull his half hard cock out. He still had some energy to burn off from the fight and call him what you will, getting his ass handed to him by Raleigh, in hindsight, was kind of hot. Feeling the other man's strength, unhindered thanks to his anger, had heat racing through Chuck. He thought about what it'd be like to have Raleigh pinning him to a wall and fucking him as roughly and he'd punched him, just taking him as hard as he pleased while fisting Chuck's cock in a tight grip, just like Chuck was doing to himself now.

The walls in the Shatterdome were cold, hard metal, rough in some places from wear and tear that no one had the time to worry about. He wouldn't worry abut it either while Raleigh bit his way into Chuck's mouth, making it red and swollen before moving to bruise up his neck and collarbone. Raleigh would have tossed Chuck's shirts to the other side of the corridor, shucked his pants down where they'd pool at Chuck's ankles, keeping him from moving too much. He'd stay completely dressed, though, just to piss Chuck off. They'd rut like teenagers, the rough fabric of Raleigh's pants being just this side of too rough for Chuck, but who could care with Raleigh's mouth all over him, biting marks into him and leaving tiny twinges of pain in their wake?

Chuck could feel the heat pooling low in his belly, his hand was damp with precome and he could feel himself thrusting up slightly into his hand. His soreness from the fight lent a touch of realism to Chuck's fantasy that pulled him closer to the edge the more he moved. His sides ached, the cuts on his face were a sharp pain still. The thought about Raleigh kissing it, bumping it gently with his nose before taking a hard bite of his neck, one that was sure to bruise and ugly blue and green, maybe even draw a little blood.

And that was enough to have Chuck coming into his fist, a strangled moan escaping. He grabbed a dirty undershirt from the floor and cleaned himself off with it before settling back into his bed, more gently this time.

It didn't matter how hot Raleigh was, he and his little copilot were still unfit to run interference for him and his old man. That was that.