Paint Me? Herc/Chuck. :D *hugs*
*cuddles* of course! consider it an early prezzie ^_-
Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character drawing a picture of another [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]
Chuck’s always had a good eye for detail and steady hands. When they’ve had an idea for a weapon or some upgrade to Striker it’s been Chuck with the pen and paper, Herc beside him giving voice to the idea Chuck’s hands give shape to.
And then there are other times, when Chuck draws for just himself. He draws Max and Striker, various members of the pit crew, the ‘dome and other things that catch his eye, but still there’s one thing he’s never really been able to sit down and draw, not from memory, and he’s too embarrassed to ask his dad to sit for him.
So he waits until one night he’s up later than his dad and the whole ‘dome is quiet in the late hours. His fingers itch to trace the lines of his dad’s back and shoulders and fill in the shadows of his muscles. So he quietly withdraws his sketchbook and pencil from his kit and settles on the floor by the bunk. It’s dark and he only has the bathroom light to draw by but it casts beautiful shadows and highlights the strength and grace of Herc body.
He sits there for hours, his pencil flying across the page, spending minutes at a time just watching the other man. It’s only much later when Herc stirs that Chuck is dragged from his fugue and he realises that he stopped drawing some time ago. He looks down at what he’s drawn and feels surprise- it’s Herc from the short spikes of his hair to the fan of freckles across his shoulders, each scar and muscle and line accurate like a photograph. Only, it’s better because Chuck can see the quiet calm in his dad’s mind and the violent storm in his heart. He thinks, he’s actually managed to draw his dad, Herc.
He starts when a firm hand grasps his shoulder and Herc leans over, having slipped from the bed without being noticed. “Wow. Don’t see how that’s me but you do have a talent.”
Warmth floods his chest and Chuck ducks his head to hide what he knows is a blush creeping up his neck. Dad gives his shoulder a squeeze and leans in to press a kiss to his temple. As he pulls away Chuck turns and catches those lips with his own. It’s soft and gentle, just comfort and love freely given. They stay like that for long moments, lips and tongues moving slow and sure in familiar paths. And when Herc pulls away, it’s only to smile at him gently.
“Come on.” Dad urges gently setting aside the sketchbook and pulling him up by the arm. A hand on his lower back directs him the bottom bunk and he sinks onto the mattress, curling into the warmth left behind and the warmth of Herc settling in behind him and pulling him into his arms.
It’s still quiet in their quarters, Max’s soft snores the only sound, and Chuck feels himself finally slipping into sleep now.
