Work Text:
Chuck had only just nodded off when he felt a nudge against his foot. He started awake, taking him a moment to remember he was wedged against a pillar, headphones bracketed over his ears, stranded in the middle of the night in San Francisco’s airport.
There was another nudge on his boot, he noticed it belonged to a shiny brogue and expensive dress pants, worn by a hot blonde holding a laptop.
Chuck pulled his headphones off, they’d been part of the gift from his dad for his trip, an upgrade from the tiny buds he’d worn shoved into his ears the majority of uni. “Yeah?”
The guy produced a cable from his other hand, pointed to the outlet. “You mind?”
Chuck saw his phone was still plugged into the wall, the cord snaking beneath his hoodie, and tugged it free. “Nah, no, go ahead.”
Scrubbing his face, he watched as the guy lowered himself to the dingy carpet - shame about those trousers - unwound his adapter and plugged in.
“Sorry to bug you, the other outlet’s busted.” He settled back against the pillar, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Chuck. “Figured might as well get some work done if we’re stuck here all night, but my idiot brother left this on sleep instead of turning it off and now the battery’s drained.” His mouth crooked into sort of a half smile. “One more thing, right?”
Chuck just shrugged, fiddled with the hood string on his sweatshirt. “Been so long since I haven’t been on a plane or in an airport, I can’t even tell.” He returned the smile. “What year is it?”
That blew the smirk into a full-on grin and the guy held out his hand. “Yancy.”
Chuck clasped it, shook. “Chuck.”
“You headed to Anchorage?” The computer stayed closed and Yancy tilted his head a little to catch Chuck’s eye.
“Yeah, was going to catch one of those cruises to see the glaciers, but with this mess I think I’ll miss the boat.” Chuck tried not to sound petulant, but he went on to explain the three month vacation across Alaska and BC was a graduation present from his old man and his grandparents and he’d been looking forward to it for a year, mainlining Man vs Wild episodes and plotting his route. He admitted to Yancy that Jack London had been his favorite author as a kid. “Almost named my dog Fang, but Dad put the smackdown on it.”
Yancy laughed. “But Fang’s a great name for a dog.”
“For a bulldog? Slobber’s more like it.” Chuck felt a minor pang of homesickness, just for a moment. “He’s a good boy though, Max.” His stomach gurgled, two days of airplane food taking their toll. Digging through his rucksack, Chuck found a packet of beef jerky, offered Yancy a piece. “How about you? Going for business?”
Yancy chewed for a moment, nodded. “Work’s there, but it’s home too.”
“Really? What’s it like growing up there?” Chuck turned, crossed his legs.
“Cold.”
He rolled his eyes. “No shit. Other than cold.” Chuck pulled out another piece of jerky, handed it to Yancy, motioned for him to continue.
“We lived in a smaller town, so it was quiet, got dark in the winter. You play hockey, build snow forts in the woods and shit, typical kid stuff. Snowmobile when you get older.”
“I’ve never seen snow.” That stopped the flow of Yancy’s words. He leaned back, gave Chuck a long, assessing look, like he’d suddenly fallen from another planet.
“You’ve never. Seen. Snow?”
Chuck reached over and shoved Yancy lightly in the shoulder. “Oi! Australia. Not a winter wonderland there, mate.” He thickened his accent on purpose before finding his water bottle. Taking a swallow, he shook his head. “But no, no snow.”
“It’s pretty, you know? Right after the first fall of the season, dusted over the trees.” Yancy got a distant look in his eyes for a moment. “Of course, not so great come April and you’ve still got another six weeks of it ahead of you and shoveling your driveway is just something you do every morning.” He smiled again at Chuck. “Good workout, though.”
Chuck caught a little something in that look, the few words. “Yeah, doesn’t look like you’re hurting for those, man.”
Yancy returned the shove, wrapped his fingers around Chuck’s arm. He could easily feel the press of warm fingers through two layers of cotton. “You either. What do you do for fun in the land of endless sunshine? You surf all day, Steve Irwin?”
Chuck snorted, leaned back into the pillar. “God, I wish. Can’t remember the last time I was on a board. Rugby, mainly. Bit of footie. Running’s all I really have time for anymore.”
Yancy tilted his head back, looked at Chuck. "Okay. Here's the thing." He slid a hand into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, extracted a card. "We ever get back to Anchorage, you should call me."
Chuck read the card, Becket Adventure Travel printed in a bold typeface. Yancy's name was listed beneath, followed by three phone numbers and an email address. "Your company?"
“Well, it's no pleasure cruise outlet, but yeah. Run it with my kid brother." Yancy leaned a little closer. "Besides, you play rugby, soccer, you'll be bored outta your mind six hours into one of those trips, entertaining the retirees. Maybe we can figure out something more to your liking."
Chuck raised an eyebrow, wondered if that was intended to be as much of a pickup line as it sounded. "Yeah, thanks, that sounds great." He fingered the edge of the card for a moment. "So tell me then, how do you fall into the lines of Adventure Travel, Mr Becket?"
"Joined the Navy after high school, was on a submarine. When I finished, I'd had enough of being cooped up-I didn't ever want to be again. When you're a kid, you want nothing more than to leave home, you know?"
Chuck nodded, it was a feeling he was intimately acquainted with.
"So I saw a little bit of the world, and a lot of the inside of a nuclear submarine, and decided there were worse places to spend the rest of my life than Alaska."
"Nah, I get that. Stay one place your whole life, anywhere looks good by comparison." He caught Yancy's eye, the look of understanding obvious on his face. "My dad was in the Air Force, always gone when I was a kid, guess I wanted to see what was so great about the rest of the world." And Chuck didn't talk about himself like that, didn't just tell people that, but middle of the night, half a world away, it just came naturally.
"I don’t know, maybe it'd be different if I'd lived in Australia, always loved getting to swim at the beach." Yancy unplugged his computer and Chuck noticed the edge of the sky starting to lighten outside the wall of windows. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly five am.
"Sure, if you survive the great whites, the jellies, the undertow."
"And the mighty drop bears." Chuck laughed. "But really, any place that could give Australia a run, it'd be Alaska - grizzlies, wolves, blizzards."
"Then maybe it's best if I have a guide." Chuck stood as Yancy did, shoved a hand in his pocket.
Yancy's mouth dropped a little, and Chuck wondered if he was reading it all wrong the whole time. Then a slow smile spread across his face and Yancy pointed to the card in Chuck's hand.
"Maybe it is." Yancy coiled the power cord around his fist, the put his hand out again to shake Chuck's. "You decide you want some company on your into the wild experience? You know how to find me."
Chuck watched Yancy walk across the terminal, to the only seat at the gate not piled with bags or passengers. A blonde guy next to him started awake when Yancy sat down.
He dug into his pocket for his phone, entered the number off the card. Thumb hovering over the screen, Chuck wondered if he should be his usual impulsive, reckless self when it came to bad decisions, or if he should show a little restraint for once in his life. His gaze wandered back to where Yancy sat, bent over his carry-on. The line of his shoulders was broad under the oxford cloth of his shirt and the shift of muscle underneath as he dug into his bag was enough to spur Chuck into doing something.
'Think you could guide me to some coffee? Chuck.'
He watched Yancy draw out his phone, saw the look on his face as he read the message. A few quick taps and Chuck's phone vibrated in his palm.
'Here we go,' Chuck breathed to himself. He swiped the screen, and the reply was short and sweet and exactly what Chuck had hoped for.
'First cup's on you, Outback. Y'