Work Text:
It’s something thrilling to be just a young man for a little while, Roger thinks. Life has been trial after time trial since he joined the UW crew team close to three years ago now, a constant pressure in the back of his mind to be good, be just a little better than he was the day before, and to live a life deserving of the faith that he’ll succeed.
For the most part, he’s done pretty well with that last one. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke, he mostly keeps on top of his coursework, and he only cusses where his coaches can’t hear. Letting loose like this, even for a week, is unfamiliar.
It’s a little easier with Chuck Day at his side - Chuck, who smokes Lucky Strikes and tells off-color jokes in the shell and out of it without a care who he might scandalize. Chuck, who makes Roger want to let his hair down, just a little bit.
So when Bobby suggests a detour to the ice cream stand across the boardwalk at Coney Island, it’s Chuck’s infections enthusiasm for the idea that persuades Roger to abandon his diet plan for just one day and follow.
They must make an odd picture, the two of them towering over the crowds of children and mothers as they cut across the stream of parkgoers towards the stand, Bobby leading them like an eager child himself. Chuck grabs hold of Bobby’s hand so as not to lose sight of him despite Bobby’s protests and, with a crooked grin over his shoulder, grabs Roger’s hand as well.
Roger likes to think he can maintain a tad more dignity in public than Bobby can, so he simply rolls his eyes and lets himself be tugged along. Chuck’s hand in his is nice - it feels illicit in a childish way, like two boys sneaking off to steal sweets from the drug store. Roger would never have done that as a child and he probably wouldn’t do anything like it now, but the idea of pulling harmless mischief with Chuck is an enticing one.
The ice cream feels illicit enough, anyway. It’s criminally sweet and perfectly cold on his tongue after an afternoon among the crowds in the stifling air of an east coast heat wave. Roger wants to savor it, let it melt in his mouth and fill his senses with sugar and the giddy rush of rule-breaking, but it is already beginning to drip down the coe and over his knuckles even as the salesgirl hands it over. Indulgence it is, then.
In the spirit of indulgence he forgoes his handkerchief in favor of licking the stray trails of sugar and cream off his fingers, ignoring Chuck’s raised eyebrow and Bobby’s “there are ladies present, you know.” He almost feels like he can do anything, say anything, like the rules have been suspended for just this one afternoon.
It’s probably the heat.
Bobby wipes his fingers on his own handkerchief with a pious air, though his twitching lips betray him. He turns to Chuck.
“Well? Will you behave like a civilized person or are you joining Roger among the ranks of heathens?”
Chuck considers for a minute, hand held up in front of him to protect his sleeve even as a drip of strawberry-flavored cream makes its way down his thumb towards his wrist. Then, with a movement too quick for Roger to block, he wipes his sticky palm on the side of Roger’s neck.
Roger yelps, both at the sudden cold and at the shock of it overall. “What was that for?”
“I lost my handkerchief,” Chuck says, with an unapologetic grin. “You’re the next best thing.”
Bobby is in fits of laughter, and even Roger can’t be angry. It’s silly, and it’s childish, but right now they’re just a gaggle of boys on an adventure. It’s alright to be silly.
He affects a pout. “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”
It’s the heat getting to him, and the sugar, and the mischievous light in Chuck’s eyes as Bobby’s laughter quiets into giggles. Because, as Chuck offers up the suggestion of, “dare you to dip your handkerchief in the water off the pier,” Roger says, “dare you to lick it off me.”
Chuck stares. So does Bobby. Roger’s sunburned cheeks burn hotter. Finally, thankfully, Chuck bursts into guffaws.
“Morris, you scoundrel, you’ve been holding out on us. And here I thought you had the driest wit of any man I’ve ever met. You should have told me you’re a prankster too.”
Roger grins, not a little relieved. There’s such a thing as too uninhibited, he knows. But with Chuck, it always seems worth the risk. “It’s only for today, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Well, you know me. I love a challenge,” Chuck says. There’s not a single hint of inhibition in his sticky-lipped smile. “The day’s young yet.”
Surely Roger can break the rules a little while longer.