femmejosephine | Goin for a ride

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chuck

Goin for a ride

She'd had a nice time with Napoleon (who still had a ridiculous name), but it seemed she wasn't done. Her half-joking conversation with Chuck had been the catalyst, but she'd been thinking about it since she talked to Jax.

She needed a motorcycle. Getting to Bondurant's quickly when there was a crisis had always been a pain because she'd either have to wait for a cab or wait for a bus. Having her own transportation made everything easier. And yeah, it was maybe not a particularly intelligent, rational choice in light of the photo and prison record that had appeared, but it at least had a useful reason. She could let herself believe she was really making a wise, convenient choice rather than reacting to something in ways that allowed her to have adrenaline rushes.

She went around to a couple of the dealerships and found a late model Triumph Scrambler in great condition for a fantastic price. The price may have been helped by the amount of flirting she'd done with the salesman, but she knew he wouldn't have gone any lower than he could actually afford, so she didn't feel bad about flirting him down.

Once she picked up a couple of helmets and a bit of gear, she decided her first call needed to be to Chuck. She'd offered to take him for a ride and he'd accepted, and she was pretty sure he meant it. Turned out he did, and so she was waiting in front of his building, leaning against the bike casually. Theoretically, this was just a motorbike ride, but if he offered something else (or she did), that'd be fine too, she thought. She'd see how it went.

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At first, when he gets her call, it's somewhat unexpected, though in retrospect, Chuck isn't sure why that's the case. There'd been an air of teasing to their previous conversation about her getting a motorbike, sure, but it seemed like something she might well follow through on, too. Whether he should have seen it coming or not, though, he is kind of glad to hear that she's actually gone through with it and is standing by what they decided before. As he'd thought when the subject first came up, he could use a little fun, and Nikita has already proven to be decent company.

He grins at her as he walks out of his building and towards her, looking over the bike for just a moment, though truthfully, it's not like he knows enough about them to be able to make any real judgment calls about it. "So I guess that quarter-life crisis came to fruition and paid off."

"Yeah, you could say that," she agreed easily, still leaning casually against the bike. She was good at leaning casually, acting like she didn't have a care in the world. It'd practically been a graduate-level course in Section's training program since she needed to be able to sit with a baby carriage, sip wine, or read a book on a park bench with equal casualness.

"Not the newest bike, but it's got good style and a good engine. It'll do. I even got it in red, since I'm having a quarter-life crisis."

"Hey, new doesn't matter so well as how it runs," Chuck says with an easy shrug. "And it got you here, so it's got to do that well enough. Otherwise we're in for an interesting time." He's joking, mostly. Maybe the last part could be true either way, but he highly doubts that there'd be anything wrong with it. Looking for a thrill is one thing; that would be another. "The red is a nice touch, too, yeah."

"You might be in for one anyway if you've never ridden pillion," she chuckled. "Is it gonna be a problem for you to have a woman in charge?"

She was mostly joking, but also a little serious. She didn't think Chuck was macho enough to mind riding behind a woman on a bike, but if he did, he'd probably also have problems with lack of control in other areas, and she wanted to know that sooner rather than later.

"Nah, not at all," Chuck says, shaking his head. It may not be something he's especially used to, at least where he himself is concerned, but he's known plenty of women who could hold their own and then some. He can't see a single reason to be fussed about sitting behind one on a motorbike, especially when it's not like the alternative would really be an option, unless they wanted to crash into something. "Better you driving it than me."

"Just checking," she noted, and tossed the other helmet over. She'd paid for full-face helmets after too many experiences watching Section riders have to come in to medical with road rash. They still had heads, which was a benefit of the helmets, but she liked a little more coverage.

"The helmet's adjustable, and there's a speaker system inside too."

She'd been pleasantly surprised to realize that Section's style of wireless earbuds had made it to the open market. When she'd been in Paris, there had been nothing like it anywhere outside Section.

"A speaker system? Sounds fancy," Chuck says, though he has no real way of knowing how common that is or isn't. It seems like a pretty neat feature, though, and better to have something like that than to only be able to hear the roar of driving down the road. He might not be much of a conversationalist, but at least it's an option. Carefully fitting the helmet on, to see how much he'll need to adjust it, he asks, "So should we do this?"

He put a helmet on like he was familiar with wearing one, even if it wasn't this particular type. People who had never worn them sometimes seemed a little claustrophobic when their entire heads were encased in something.

"A bit, yeah, but I like being able to listen to music. Talking to passengers came with it," she shrugged, and put her own helmet on before swinging a leg over onto the seat. Her helmet was already adjusted to her head. It was a standard black full-face helmet with a flip-up visor, and it made her feel a bit like she was on a mission. At least it wasn't a mirrored face shield. That really would have been mission-ready.

"Hop on," she invited him.

It feels a bit like being home, of all things, though he would never have been getting onto a motorbike while wearing any part of his drivesuit. Still, there's something kind of bizarrely pleasant about it, and Chuck smiles a little to himself under the helmet's visor as he climbs onto the bike after her. Without their even having started to move yet, something like this, he thinks, might be worth learning to drive for. In the meantime, this suits him more than well enough.

"So have you had a lot of passengers to talk to yet, or am I lucky?"

"You're lucky," she quipped as she turned the key and activated the Bluetooth passenger intercom so they could continue to talk over the sound of the engine. There weren't too many who were likely to be on the list in the future, mostly because the list of people she'd allow close enough to stab her in the ribs was pretty short. Chuck was on the list because she honestly didn't think he could ever be bothered to stab her in the ribs. She might be wrong, but she didn't think she was. And in any case, she was wearing her Section leather mission jacket, which had subtle body armoring. She'd had the bullet hole in the left sleeve repaired and it nearly didn't show against the black leather.

"You can balance by holding on with your legs or grab the seat with your hands, but it'll probably work best if you hold on to me."

"You got it," Chuck says, taking that as all the invitation he needs to hold on to her. She's right, it probably will be easier this way, especially when he's never done this before. He may be all for taking chances, especially now that he isn't needed for anything and doesn't have to worry about any potential consequences of risky behavior, but even being in the kind of shape he's kept in, this seems more sensible. Maybe once he gets used to this, if he has that chance, it won't be the case anymore, but for now, it's his best bet. "Shall we, then?"

Riding a motorcycle with someone was a little intimate unless the riders were on one of those couches on wheels, but she didn't mind Chuck being that close to her. And he didn't seem to mind either, although she did appreciate that he kept his hands on her waist rather than trying to push them higher or lower. That was almost gentlemanly of him. Then again, he was probably well aware that she could just stop the ride any time.

"Got any preference for where we should go?" she asked as she shifted the bike into gear and started off down the street. She was planning to head for the roads outside the city, which tended to be a bit more curved and less crowded so the bike could do more than just stop and go in traffic, but if he had any other ideas, she'd listen.

"Nope, that's entirely up to you," Chuck says, keeping ahold of her waist as the bike heads off down the street, especially glad now that they're actually moving that he doesn't have to try to shout over the sound of the engine. This is just a lot easier, not least since they'd be wearing helmets regardless. "It's your quarter life crisis bike, I'm just along for the ride." The places he usually frequents are just bars and a gym, anyway. Neither seems like the best choice for a destination right about now.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she replied easily, and started making her way through the city. The traffic wasn't too bad right now, so she was able to follow a pretty straightforward route, although it was possible she still drove a bit more aggressively than others. It was how she was trained, and even though she wasn't fleeing or trying to make it to a location in the allotted time, it was hard not to drive that way. If he asked, which he probably wouldn't, she'd say it was the quarter-life crisis thing.

Once they were out of town traffic a bit, she checked on him.

"Doing alright? Not motion sick or anything?"

"Not yet," Chuck says, mostly teasing. He's never had a problem with motion sickness before, and doesn't think he will now, even if this is fairly different from anything he's ever done before. If helicopter rides and Jaeger deployments didn't make him ill, though, it seems unlikely that this will. It's actually pretty damn fun, the kind of thing he thinks he'd enjoy doing for himself if he'd ever learned how to drive. "But if I think I'm going to puke in the helmet, I'll let you know before it happens."

"Good," she replied, and shifted back into him as she resettled herself for a more curvy, hilly road. It was the kind of thing that could be deliberate, but maybe it wasn't. She'd let him decide how he felt about it.

"Hold on then."

With that small amount of warning, she opened the throttle and zoomed up the first curve. She didn't know Chuck all that well, but from his build and what he'd said about his background (and that he agreed to do this), she had a feeling he liked an adrenaline rush just as much as she did.

Holding on seems to be par for the course at this point, something that comes with the territory, but Chuck continues doing so more than willingly. He's not sure if the same could be said for the way she leans back into him, if it's deliberate or just an effect of the necessary way they're sitting, but either way, he hardly minds. He'd be crazy to, whether or not there's anything to it.

When she speeds ahead, he lets out a laugh before he can help himself, the rush it provides one it's hard to find fault with. Back home, he couldn't really go out of his way to do a lot of thrill-seeking, not being able to risk it with what his job was, but it came with the territory of being a Jaeger pilot anyway. Here, with as dull as his life has become, this is a welcome change of pace, a return to form. "You're good with this thing."

He didn't move to get away from her, which was fine with her. Even through the leather and padding of her mission jacket, she could feel the warmth of him. The wind could be a little chilly at higher speeds, and having another body did help with that. A body that took care of itself was even better.

He laughed and she laughed in return because it was hard not to react to that kind of gleeful response. The road she'd chosen meandered around the city and had quite a few curves and hills, but there were very few people or cars on it. She thought it might be a failed subdivision or something, but who knew in a place like this?

"Thanks. Haven't actually ridden one in a year or more, but apparently it is just like riding a bicycle. Bit more horsepower, though."

"Yeah, I'd say," Chuck says wryly, that clearly being an understatement. He hasn't ridden a bike since he was a kid, but he still knows perfectly well that there's no way they could ride like this. The motorcycle is far more his speed, something that would be the case even if he were the one driving. "Well, I'm glad. Considering the alternative might be crashing into something and dying out in the middle of nowhere. S'not really how I want to go."

He already has, and he can't think of any better way for it, whatever's happened since. He helped save the goddamn world. It's hard to compare to that.

"Friend of mine from before used to call it 'being road pizza', and it's not how I want to go either," she agreed. She already had officially died (twice, possibly, considering the explosion that was supposed to have cancelled her), and she didn't intend to actually die for awhile.

"So we'll be safe-ish and I'll deliver you back to your flat in one fit piece."

"Sounds like a good plan. I'm in favor of safe-ish," Chuck says, grinning crookedly under his helmet. Actually playing it safe is a different story, after all, but as long as they make it back, he'll be more than alright. He didn't face all those kaiju only to wind up dead or maimed in some motorcycle accident. It's really not something he's honestly worried about, though; he wouldn't be able to make light of it if it were. "Better than the alternative."

"I'll drink to that. Speaking of, you maybe wanna have a beer or something after this?" she suggested, since it was going pretty well. If the beer was in his apartment or they moved to his apartment after, that'd be fine. If it wasn't, that would be fine too. She didn't really have much invested in the answer either way.

The hill they were about to come to was particularly steep, steep enough that it had a grade warning on it, and she zoomed down it like they were on a rollercoaster.

The answer that Chuck is about to give gets cut off, at first, by the way she speeds down the hill, something he can hardly find fault with. If anything, he suspects he'd be driving the same way if he were the one in control of the bike. As it is, he just keeps hold of her, grinning to himself for the rush of it. He hasn't felt this good, he thinks, in a while.

"Yeah, I could go for a beer," he says, pleased at the suggestion. "Definitely."

It was hard to answer when one was almost literally flying down a hill, but when he did answer, she was glad to hear it was positive. She didn't think she was misreading the body language cues, not after both living life and being drilled on it in Section, but she'd misread them before. Always best to confirm that kind of thing.

"Got any booze in your flat or should we find a local? Can't go to mine - out of beer," she noted laconically. If he was paying attention, he'd probably catch the implication that she was willing to go back to his flat, and from there they could negotiate the events. She was keeping him out of hers at least for now because she wasn't sure she'd fully sanitized it before she left. She nearly always did, but she'd rather have time to make sure things looked completely normal before she had a guest.

"Yeah, I've got plenty," Chuck says, shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. Whether she means anything by it or not — and he wants neither to assume nor to disregard the possibility — there's no real reason they should have to go out when his apartment is fairly well-stocked. On his own, he prefers going to bars to staying in, but with company, regardless of the extent of it, that isn't something he needs to take into consideration. "My place is fine."

"Sounds good. Where do you live, by the way?" Nikita asked, since she'd never asked before. She and Chuck weren't into sharing their feelings and she wasn't trying to pry into his life, but she had to know where she was going. It was that simple.

"Bit of a rough patch up here." That was his only warning before she went over a washed out section of the empty road. The bike had good shocks and she had been trained on avoiding wipeouts, but it was still a little rough all the same.

"Shit," Chuck says when they go over the rough patch, though it's more a general exclamation than because he's too shaken. So far she's been handling this thing well enough, and though it's a little strange for him, not being the one at least somewhat in control of something, he trusts her not to drive them off the road or flip them over or anything like that. "I'm in Chelsea Cloisters, you know it?"

"I did warn you," Nikita replied in a teasing, almost sing-song voice, although she would admit the warning wasn't very much of one. She was having a quarter-life crisis, though. Warnings were boring.

"Across the street from Petros Park, yeah?" she replied. She didn't think she knew anyone who lived there, well, not until now. "Easy enough to find. You want to head back there?"

"That's the one," Chuck says, head dipping in an instinctive nod, even if she won't see it. "And yeah, sure, might as well." He's in no hurry to cut this short, but they'll have the ride back, and though it's possible he's mistaken, he gets the sense that this doesn't have to be a one-time occurrence. He'd certainly be interested in giving this a go again, pretty pleased with it now that he's actually tried it. And though he could learn how to drive one himself, and very well might, that's not going to happen overnight.

"Right then," she agreed, and took the next turn, which would slowly work them towards the necropolis and thus the city. It also involved a few roads that were, technically, not open. They were also not really roads. More like heavily used tracks, but that was fun too.

"You having fun? Not planning to chunder in my helmet?"

She was pretty sure he was doing alright, but it was always good to check, especially since the road was going to get rougher.

"I think if I've managed to avoid it so far, that's a good sign," Chuck says, teasing. Really, he'd have been incredibly surprised if a ride on a motorcycle were enough to make him sick, but that's all the more reason why he has no problem joking about it. If he were actually concerned, it might not come so easily. "And yeah, actually, I am having fun. This is living up to the hype, I have to admit."

"Good," she replied, smiling even though he couldn't see it. His voice was teasing, and that was good too. She didn't think she and Chuck would ever have deep dark personal conversations, but they enjoyed each others' company, and that was all that was really needed sometimes.

Besides, deep dark personal conversations were really complicated in her case.

"If you ever wanna go again, let me know. We'll have a beer, have a ride, have some fun. Probably not in that order, though."

"I'm sure I'll take you up on that," Chuck says, grinning to himself. "Seems like a good way to spend an afternoon, if you ask me." Thus far, at least, it's as much fun as he's had in a while, and he has no doubt that will continue to be the case once they get back to his apartment, regardless of what actually happens. "I get now why you'd want one of these."

He just doesn't get the same adrenaline rush from beating up a punching bag, or sparring with someone at the gym.

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Goin for a ride

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