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Herc knows what’s coming even before he pats at his shirt pocket, mutters, “Gonna go for a smoke.”
Chuck looks up from his laptop, glaring. “You’re gonna die of fucking cancer, you piece of shit.”
“I’m a Jaeger pilot. If I die of cancer, I’ll be lucky.”
And maybe that was a little harsher than he’d intended, but Chuck comes back swinging.
“Whatever, old man. As long as you don’t take me with you, it’ll just be an opportunity to find a better copilot.
Herc snorts as he swings the door open. “You’ll never find someone better’n me, or you already would have. We’re stuck with each other.”
“Fuck off and go smoke yourself to death, bastard.” Chuck calls.
Herc flips him off as he leaves. They’re both still raw from bickering all the way over from Sydney, but knowing that doesn’t make dealing with his son any easier.
Hell, it also doesn't help that he's guilty because the nicotine craving is only a very small part of why he’s going out. He'd grabbed for his pack when he heard the cadence of Raleigh’s footsteps pass the door (slightly off-beat, favouring his left). The other man isn’t in sight when Herc gets into the hall, but there’s very few places in the Dome that are okay to smoke at, and only one nearby.
It's overcast when Herc makes it outside, and the air is heavy with sea mist despite the biting wind. He pulls his collar a little tighter around his neck to try to ward off the chill as he waves at Raleigh.
"Mind if I join you?"
The other man is tucked into a corner and blowing smoke into the breeze. He waves back, smiling warmly.
“Nah, there’s plenty of room.”
So Herc huddles back against the wall, closer to Raleigh than perhaps he should be. Raleigh doesn’t seem to mind, but Herc’s nervous hands still shake as he tries to light up. He growls under his breath as he attempts to get lighter and cigarette to meet. The wind isn’t helping, whipping the flame about despite his attempts to shelter it with his cupped palm.
“Here, let me get that for you.”
When he glances up, Herc’s heart stops in his chest, because just like that, Raleigh’s face is right there in front of his, close enough that Herc can see the seaspray caught in his lowered eyelashes as he focusses on touching the ends of their cigarettes together. When Herc’s starts glowing, Raleigh leans back and Herc can breathe again.
“Thanks,” he says, doing his best not to stutter like a bloody child.
“Don’t mention it,” Raleigh says with a casual wave. “It’s nice to have company out here.”
Herc hums and the conversation dims as they go back to doing what they came out to do, which in Raleigh’s case is smoking, and in Herc’s case is watching Raleigh smoke.
Because this is the reason why Herc has gone from only needing a smoke now and then, to grabbing for his pack twice a day on the regular: the shape of Raleigh Becket’s mouth when it’s wrapped around a cigarette.
It’s hotter than any porn Herc’s seen in his life. There's something about the way Raleigh’s lips purse as he breathes in, then slack as he takes the cigarette out, about the sigh he makes as he blows the smoke up into the air. He wonders if Raleigh makes the same sounds when he’s being fucked, soft little huffs of breath, almost inaudible, and hot as hell. Even better, what would he sound like muffled by Herc’s cock? And isn’t that a pretty thought, Raleigh on his knees in front of him, sucking him off and humming as he bobs back and forth, only to pull off with a cheeky grin and lick at him just so.
The moment Herc thinks that, Raleigh's tongue flickers out over the filter of his menthol, and it almost brings Herc to his knees. He must have made a sound, because Raleigh looks over.
Ah, he’s been caught.
Herc’s face flushes.
“Um,” Raleigh takes his cigarette in one hand, about to say something polite, Herc is sure. The thing is, he’s been staring at the man's mouth for what feels like years now, and there’s no way to talk it out without being awkward.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, and curls his free hand around Raleigh’s neck, dragging him in to kiss him. Raleigh’s mouth is still at first, lips drawn tight, but then he makes a little noise in the back of his throat, maybe a laugh and maybe a moan. Either way, it’s obviously pleased because he opens, lets Herc lick into his mouth, and it’s perfect. He feels like he's young again, necking out in the lot behind the mall, only this is better because he doesn’t have to worry about what happens if he comes back in with a hickey. Chuck can fucking suck it up.
“Okay. Um, geez,” Raleigh pants when they pull apart to catch their breath. “So I’m not complaining, but what the fuck was that?”
“That… was the reason why I’ve been staring at your mouth this whole time?” Herc says, confused.
“Oh.” Raleigh takes a moment, then he laughs, “Oh my god, that’s what’s been going on?”
“You didn’t notice?” Herc says, eyebrows raised. “What were you gonna say, then?”
“Um. You know, I can’t even remember?” Raleigh crushes his cigarette against the wall, then drops it so that he can wrap both arms around Herc’s waist. “Why don't we go back to the kissing thing? That was better.”
“Hmm.” Herc can’t really bring himself to be offended when that's on the table. Raleigh’s hand comes up to scruff through the short hairs at the back of Herc’s neck, and the feel of it sends shivering heat rolling down Herc's spine. His cock is swelling in his pants, and he grinds it into Raleigh’s thigh, grins when Raleigh moans and pushes back into him.
“God, why didn’t we start doing this sooner?”
“Because your mouth tastes like shit,” Herc huffs against Raleigh’s cheek. “You and your fucking menthols.”
“Oh fuck you.” Raleigh rolls his eyes. “I like the taste!”
“They taste like minty garbage, and they make my mouth go numb.” Herc presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of Raleigh's mouth. “I can’t feel my lips.”
“Uh-huh. Let me help you with that," Raleigh says, drawing closer to kiss Herc again. "Bet you won't be saying that when my lips are lower down."
Herc grins. "If your lips are lower down, I doubt I'm gonna be saying much at all."
"We'll see about that."