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Teddy doesn't have to ask, just looks over and Chuck's right there, unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth and the rest of the pack open in his hand; held out in offering just as Teddy was thinking Christ, I need a smoke.
"Thanks," he says, lighting up and taking a deep drag. It calms his nerves almost instantly. This place is really starting to get to him.
"You okay, Boss?" Chuck asks, and Teddy nods, flicks ash at the stone steps underneath them. Chuck's a good guy, someone he can really trust. He's lucky.
"I'm glad you're here, Chuck," says Teddy, not quite smiling, but maybe not scowling so hard. "I've worked with some real mooks before; didn't want to get saddled with another one, not on this. But you're all right."
Chuck laughs, smiling easy, reassuringly. Teddy'd almost forgotten what that looked like. "Thanks, Boss. You really know how to compliment a guy."
Teddy kicks his shoe as an answer, takes another drag off his cig. Chuck's has disappeared, must've smoked it fast, or wait... if he ever lit it at all. Did he light it? He must have. Doesn’t make sense that he’d get the pack out and put one in his mouth if he wasn’t gonna smoke it. Unless he wanted to make Teddy feel comfortable, lull him into a false sense of security so he’d…
So he’d what? Jesus Christ, Daniels, get it together.
“Your hands are shaking,” Chuck says. “You sure you’re all right?”
Teddy groans and drops his head. “I think I’m starting to lose it.” He flicks his cigarette butt into the grass and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Little more honest than I was going to be, but what the hell. I can trust you, right, Chuck?”
Chuck’s voice, when it comes, sounds strangely sad. “Sure, Boss. Course you can.” Then a warm palm is resting on the back of his neck, warm and comforting, and Teddy doesn’t think about Chuck’s tone; just leans back into his hand.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Chuck soothes, stroking his fingers up into Teddy’s hair, right behind his ear. “We’re gonna figure this out, you and me.”
Teddy gives himself a minute to just enjoy the touch, to just shut his brain off for a second and feel. He trusts Chuck to let him have it. He doesn’t know why he does, but he does.
“It’s funny,” he says, after a while, and it takes him so long to finish that thought that Chuck slides his hand down over his shoulder, down past his elbow to wrap gently around his arm. Supportive, somehow. Protective. Concerned.
“It’s funny,” Teddy repeats himself, “but I feel like I’ve known you for a real long time. I feel like I know you’re looking out for me. Like I really can trust you.” He says that last with more than a little wonder. It’s been a long time since he’s trusted anything. “Is that weird? Do you think that’s weird?”
“Nah,” Chuck shakes his head. “That’s not weird. That’s partners. We’ve gotta work together, trust each other.” He tightens his grip on Teddy’s arm just briefly. “I want to help you.”
Teddy nods, covers Chuck’s hand with his own because fuck it; the whole world’s going crazy he might as well, and Chuck just smiles again. That little one like he’s real amused at a joke no one else really gets.
“Good,” Teddy says, shaking it off, standing up. “Now are we gonna sit here all day talking about our feelings or are we gonna solve this case?”
“That’s the spirit, Boss.” Chuck taps another cigarette out of the pack, puts it between his lips and holds out the rest. Teddy wants one, he takes one; lets Chuck light it for him, silver lighter flickering in the sunlight.