thecapitol | closed; uncover our heads and reveal our souls

Who| Chuck Hansen & Meulin Leijon
What| Grumpy mentor meets gossip writer, all goes as well as it sounds.
Where| Tribute Center
When| A bit after August Celebrus' release.
Warnings/Notes| TBA, potential talk of Arena deaths, will be updated as needed.

The thing is, Meulin's very lucky Chuck didn't come after her the moment he read the latest Celebrus issue. Much as Derek's been paying close attention for the past few months, Chuck's been doing more than the cursory read through he usually does. If more attention than usual's being paid to them, they need to know, to face it as an united front. They know this, they've done this whole song and dance before. But while he'd known they couldn't avoid it this time, Chuck still hadn't been ready.

Even injured, even barely back from the brink of death, it'd set him off.

As it is, Chuck's been snappy and pissed off since they got back from the Arena, uneasy with more than one point. He could have ignored it, he's sure, because they'd been doing fine like that. Maybe it would have taken more time, but whatever, Chuck wouldn't have let his unrequited feelings get in the way of what they had for very long. Derek was too important for that.

But it eats at him, and even a few days later, he's still on the edge of snapping at everyone and everything. So spotting Meulin comes at a bad time, but even with weeks between he'd probably be just as pissy. Here, now, it means Chuck's lip draws back, more Wolf than Striker Eureka, if only for the moment.

"Oi," He strides forward, voice ripping from him, half snarl. "Lay off."

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And here comes the other. She'd been expecting him since Derek cornered her but the annoyance on his face is more pronounced. She tries to read his lips, something she's been working on, but it's all exaggerated and hard to make out. This will have to be a writing sort of conversation from the start. She ducks her head to pull out her notebook, humming a vague remembrance of a song from home. She's not afraid of him, not really. She probably should be, but it's only the truth. She only wrote the truth.

"If you're here to complain about the mention of you two, I know I write lies but that wasn't one of them. Anyone can see it."

Chuck waits impatiently as she digs through her bag, pulls out a notebook. The song filters through, but idly, he can't focus on the little things like that when he's angry and on mission. Instead, he holds himself like a live wire, taunt, tension up his spine and in the broad line of his shoulders. Almost before he can help it, he's snapping again, "That's not--", even as he cuts himself off.

She can't hear him, and the snarl in his voice isn't helping. But -- Anyone can see it. Chuck goes cold, fingers curling against his palms in tight fists before purposefully smoothing out. He bites out his words, sharp and short.

"There's nothin' there."

She doesn't even notice his first words but the second set seem sharp. The whole line of his features and posture screams a warning but she simply holds out her notebook. This is face to face, she can't turn the volume up and hope she get it right.

"Write it out for me. Less misunderstanding. But if you're going to say it didn't mean anything, I'm going to be skeptical."

Chuck growls, low in the back of his throat, irritated and dimly aware that she can't hear it anyway. His shoulders tense as he waits, plucking the notebook from her fingers as she offers it. The last bit of control he has means he doesn't rip it from her hands, doesn't cause a scene or hurt her or harm her belongings. Chuck shouldn't care, doesn't -- except once upon a time they were friends, and he hasn't forgotten that.

It still matters, even as he knuckles bleed white around his grip on the pen. He mightn't have forgotten, but that doesn't mean he won't soundly ignore her advice.

'There's nothing there. Leave it alone.'

There he goes, repeating the lie she's sure, very sure, is a lie. She's seen how they look at each other and talked to Derek. There isn't a doubt in her mind that they'd needed that push. She hands the notebook back with a shake of her head.

"Chuck, I know that's not true. There's something on at least one side here. Maybe you don't know what it is, but you don't have to have known you for ages to see it."

Chuck's spent eight years in the Capitol's fleeting spotlight, had his relationship with Derek questioned over and over and over, and he's never changed his stance. He won't for her either, he's sure. Even if it makes him uncomfortable to be so easily read. They've fought fiercely for what little safety, what little quiet they could get. This entire thing fucked that up in a day.

He scowls, writing furiously.

'Doesn't matter what you think you see. Keep your nose out of it.'

"It's a little late for that. Besides, Derek already came to talk to me and tell me the same thing. You two even fuss the same way."

Not really, they're fairly different when they're apart. Derek was defensive in an entirely different way than Chucks angry brick wall. Softer once he hit a sore point. Yet, she sees them in each other. Both are utter idiots after all.

Dammit Derek. It really does the exact opposite of calming him down. His lip draws back, distressed but trying to hide it, and before he really thinks about it he's taking an angry step forward, looming over Meulin. Only, only he drags in a deep breath, forcibly forcing himself to calm. Doesn't entirely work, and even as he steps back she can probably see the tension coiled in his muscles.

'Focus on someone else then, don't drag us back into it.'

It's the only compromise he'll offer.

Edited 2015-10-07 09:41 (UTC)

Looming over her is easy enough to do. Her expression remains fixed and all that betrays the sudden nervousness at this is how her hand catches at the pleat of her skirt. It relaxes as he backs off and she smooths down the fabric before she reads his writing. Hmn, probably workable.

"I don't think I'll have to drag you back into the spotlight. Don't worry."

Or if she does, she'll at least give Derek some warning. Probably.

Easy enough, it's true. Often, Chuck seems short, given he hangs around Derek who looms over everybody no matter what. But he's tall enough in his own right, bulky from the constant training, readying for whatever might come his way. It hadn't helped, in the end, but well, that was the Arena for you.

Irritation crosses his face at her words, given it's not what he wants at all. Hell, what Chuck really wants is for none of this to have happened, for their friendship not to be dragged out into the spotlight, for him to have never had to untangle this confusing jumble of feelings in his belly.

But he won't get that.

"Mhmm." He hums, disbelieving. Of course he'll worry. But he didn't miss the way she goes nervous, hand clenching the pleat of her skirt. Despite it all, he hadn't meant to scare her. He flips the notebook again, trying to keep from tearing through the page as he writes.

Not all that comforting.

"Trust me."

It slips past her lips before she can stop it. She's confident, more than she's ever been about a ship in her life. Derek feels something and for all Chuck sleeps around so much, she's sure he does too. He must. He's just stubborn, got the bit in his mouth, wanting to keep things the same forever. Not letting things get complicated.

"I purromise that I won't have to." Or she really will go hit Derek upside the head, even if she needs a stepladder. God knows, she can't count on Chuck, clearly.

Trust me, she says, and he stills. Chuck's head tips, staring her down like he could pick her apart and understand her bit by bit. Chuck doesn't trust anybody, not really. There's only Derek, who has been there since day one, who lived for him, who died for him.

And she's -- she's asking him to trust her. He doesn't.

But what else is there left for him? Chuck takes a breath, hoping he's not making the wrong decision here, and nods. Sharply, quickly, a momentary slice of acknowledgement. He doesn't look happy about it though, mouth twisted, brow furrowed.

"Alright."

Trust, the five letter word that governs so much of her life. It comes in heaps for the wrong people and is scarce for the right. But, she thinks, this is right. It doesn't matter if he does or does not actually trust her. He says he does, which is good enough. He's still annoyed but perhaps not as angry as he was.

Maybe.

She returns the nod with more care in her movement but just as much brevity. Her smiles peeks up at the corners. It can't stay away for long.

"I would never steer you two wrong."

closed; uncover our heads and reveal our souls

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