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Oh...He knew.

Sentimentalities, for the most part, are hard for Chuck. He's had so few of them in his life; after his mother died, his Dad certainly didn't give much of a thought to birthday's or Christmas or any other holiday. Chuck grew up horsing around with techs and celebrating with people from the academy on those occasions, especially since his dad was...well. Usually pretty busy.

It sorta sucks, coming here like they did - just ending the war, skipping over a few months completely, fuck his birthday, right? Get fucked, Sodder. How old even IS he, right now?

But Raleigh -- he knows his birthday. He's never forgotten, not once. Not in all those years where the Beckets were famous and not when it happened just before Pentecost showed up with the has-been in tow.

He remembered. And here they are...celebrating it properly.

"Your birthday, fuckhead. Sit down and have a glass of wine. We're having duck."

Edited 2020-12-11 00:18 (UTC)

Well. For a man that has difficulties with sentiment this is a hell of a display. and it hits Raleigh like an arrow to the chest because he can be extremely sentimental and..

And Chuck remembered. He remembered and he spent what looks like hours making it special as a surprise.

He can't help but make a little noise. Weh. His heart.

You fucking.. outrageous.. entirely surprising hell of a fella. It fills Raleigh with such joy, a bright, warm grin spreading over his face and he takes another sip of wine. He'll be caught up in no time.

And still, he laughs.

"Seriously?"

That's fancy as hell. You are a fancy lad, Charles Hansen.

"Yes, seriously. Obviously. Do I do this on a normal day?"

The answer is generally no, but he's been known to whip up a microwave dinner or two with some fancy wine, just because he can.

This is another level, though. This is a lot of effort and planning and surprise, and making sure Raleigh doesn't know what the hell he's up to - which is hard, since they practically live together, they just sleep at each others houses on an alternating, well thought out and planned schedule, penned by Chuck.

"Drink your wine, Ray," Chuck purrs. "The more you drink, the less you'll be able to tell if I fucked up. It's some french shit I looked up." It should be good. He hopes. It may not be as pink as it should be, but he tried. Magret de Canard, Bon Appétit.

Oh, French. Look at you, ballsy mother fucker. Not only did you pick the most difficult kind of bird, but also a notoriously difficult cuisine. One especially close to Raleigh's heart.

It occurs to him that is precisely why Chuck picked it.

Of course he did.

"Well, it smells like good French shit to me," he says and throws back the rest of his glass. There. More! Another glass. Okay, wheels are really starting to turn now.

Honestly, he's just so... stunned? And the gesture is so heart felt and personal and.. okay maybe he's a little emotional about it.

"You pretty put a lot of thought into this.." A little softer, watching Chuck work. He is a fascinating person to study on a normal day but right now it just means so much more.

"Yeah, I did. Ray, I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm not sure this is gonna be what you're expecting. Like, I don't think it's bad..."

He leans in to sniff it, brow furrowed.

"But I'm not a cook. So don't get too excited, okay? If it's dry as a bone, just tell me, it wont hurt my feelings."

But...realistically?

Chuck's probably lied about patrol duty every day this week to practice. He's probably spent his whole savings on six ducks to cook and ruin before he got it right. He's a perfectionist, it can't be helped.

"Just. Lower the bar a bit, yeah?"

Chuck is worried and it's sweet. For all the effort he's put in, the duck could taste like shoe leather and Raleigh would still tell him it's amazing.

But he nods and gestures to say he promises. Calm down. It's gonna be fine.

So when he quips, it's just teasing. He doesn't mean a word.

"I mean maybe it's not Michelin but where do you place your bar, babe? Tell me again how you don't settle for anything less than perfect?" Asked with a grin as he leans forward and rests his elbow on the island, chin in hand.

He points a spatula at Raleigh, squinting.

"You're lucky you're cute," he says, gesturing accusingly. "But I've been practicing all week, so it better at least be edible."

He hopes.

"It's all I've got to ride on these days."

But then his brain catches up.

"Wait, all week? I could have been eating duck all week?"

Edited 2020-12-11 01:55 (UTC)

"No," he corrects, as he plates it up, carefully arranging everything, "you would have been attempting to eat inedible shoe leather all week."

Because practice makes perfect and his first few attempts were NOT good.

"Well, I woulda given it my best shot. When did you do that, I've been with you ever day?"

"Not all day, every day. I might have...taken a week off patrol."

You know. To perfect this.

"Anyway," he says, waving it off as he sets a plate in front of Raleigh. Eat your duck and cheese board.

"Happy birthday, beautiful~"

"You.."

You sneaky son of a bitch. He loves it. He's never felt so considered.

"Thank you," looking down at the plate. It's beautiful. This whole thing is beautiful. Chuck is beautiful.

And Raleigh is so grateful. He sets his glass down and takes a bite, the duck is perfectly cooked. Perfectly.

"Nnfh.. Chuck, this is amazing"

"Are you just saying that?" He looks a little anxious and worried, because he really has wasted like six fucking ducks and it's kind of embarrassing.

"Because I swear, Ray, I'll knock you into next week if you're lyin' to me--"

"I'm not lyinf-" through another mouthful. Waiting to swallow to talk? Nah.

"God this is perfect." It's then that he looks up and pauses to really mean what he says, leaning in a little.

"It's perfect, babe."

God that's such...validation. He perks up, visibly lightening, smile broad.

"Good. I..."

Exhale.

"I really tried for you. I wanted you to have a good dinner."

"It paid off."

Reaching for him across the table. Hold his hand you dumb asshole. Let him appreciate the hell out of you. Take chuck's hand a thumb his knuckles.

"For real. This means a lot to me."

He hasn't had something like this is a long time. He doesn't have to say, Chuck knows. The last time he celebrated getting older with anything more than a pack of beer and a tv dinner, Yancy was still alive.

He smiles, settling on his stool and smiling, reaching to lace fingers as he watches Raleigh eat. He's...proud of himself. He wanted this to be good and Raleigh seems genuine.

That's all he wanted.

"Good," he murmurs, using his free hand to try a bit, himself. And...fuck yeah, he did good. "You can have your actual gifts after dinner.":

He looks up, surprised as he eats. You did more? This is so much.

"Oh yeah?"

If it's a case of canned beans he's gonna give you a smack.

It might be, bitch.

"Yeah. I..." He fidgets a little, nervous. "Yeah, I've got stuff for you. Two things."

HA. He should have done that.

Wow. He. He's actually really touched, squeezing chuck's hand again before letting go to focus on the food. It's fucking amazing and needs his full attention.

"You really went above and beyond. Didn't have to do all this."

But if you don't think he's loving every second of it you'd be wrong.

You're lucky beans aren't on the menu. But he doesn't want to spoil it so he doesn't mention it.

"I wanted to."

He knows he didn't have to. He didn't have to do anything beyond maybe give an obligatory Happy Birthday, but he wanted to do all of this.

Means the world.

Raleigh smiles softly. He's had such a weird day and this makes it so much better.

Though he does have a sneaking suspicion maybe Chuck had something to do with it. Him and Nile are the only people he can think of that know his birthday. He thinks Nile knows.. He's not sure anymore. But apparently people have profiles on the network? And it gives out that information?? So honestly who knows. It could be anyone. It could be Deerington itself.

So they'll eat and it's amazing an.. really actually restaurant quality. Made with love. Specifically for him.

"Honest to god I think this is the best meal I've ever had." Once they're done and through more wine and sat back happy and full and warm.

It's totally, definitely Deerington. Not Chuck.

And...shit, it's good. Chuck did a damn good job -- all his practicing paid off, and it's fucking amazing. Not just edible, but amazing.

He's proud of himself. Yes, he is.

He smiles at Raleigh, pouring wine into his glass, eyes glittering with the praise.

"Yeah? You pulling me leg?"

Raleigh gives him a wry smile. You know he isn't. but he's happy to give the praise and nudges his boot against Chuck's under the table.

"On my mother's grave. You should be proud of yourself."

He half smiles, a sharp flash of a dimple as he hides his face.

"I wanted you to have something good. Are you ready for your first present?"

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