Pre-Buckingham and pre-Steddie / 474 words / a teensy bit angsty? And more of a scene than a ficlet, sorry! It could definitely be the start of something
The four of them—Chrissy, Eddie, Steve and Robin—are hanging out in Eddie’s trailer. Chrissy is pretty much living there, now, which her mom is not happy about (she won’t let Chrissy see her little brother, but they’ve managed a few sneak visits) but it’s so much better than living at home.
She’s flipping through a magazine and there’s an article on the Brat pack, so she says, “Who do you think is hotter,” holding up the magazine, “Judd Nelson or Andrew McCarthy?”
It’s Robin she’s asking and who she’s expecting to answer—she just wants to know more about her, because Robin is so cool and she likes old movies Chrissy’s never heard of and some that she has and loves too, and she wears black nail polish, and cuts her hair short, and Chrissy always wants to be around her—but Robin only goes a little pink, staring at her open-mouthed.
But, before Chrissy can figure out why, Steve and Eddie both answer at the same time: “Judd Nelson” (Steve) and “Andrew McCarthy” (Eddie).
Robin’s mouth snaps shut; Chrissy blinks.
And… She’s kind of wondered about Eddie. Not consciously, maybe, but he never talks about girls, and she thought maybe he was just being a gentleman, or whatever. But maybe… No. Maybe he’s just goofing off. But she looks at him and, oh, he wasn’t goofing off.
He’s not looking at her, though. He’s looking at Steve. And Steve is looking back at Eddie. Both of them like deer caught in the headlights.
(But Steve… Chrissy knows Steve likes girls so… She’s confused. She doesn’t get what’s happening, but something is.)
“I think they’re both cute,” Chrissy says.
It breaks the spell and Steve says, “I meant Ally Sheedy,” and Eddie looks away, shoulders slumping.
Robin makes a noise and Chrissy is confused.
She just wanted to know Robin better and now everything feels strange and awkward.
And maybe there’s something there—in what Steve said, in the way he and Eddie looked at each other, they way they look at each other—but Chrissy can’t quite grasp it yet.
(Just like she can’t grasp the way her breath catches when Robin looks at her sometimes or how her heart beats faster when they’re together.)
She looks back to the magazine, flipping through a few more pages, but her mind is still buzzing and everyone is too quiet. She racks her brain for something to say, then spies the newspaper, sitting opened to the movie section.
“Some Kind of Wonderful starts this week,” she blurts out, “anyone want to go?”
“Sure,” Robin says.
Steve nods. “Yeah.”
Eddie shrugs. Doesn’t say anything.
“Great,” Chrissy says, “I’ve been looking forward to it,” and slowly they all start talking again, but Chrissy can’t help but feel something’s shifted between the four of them.
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The brothers, Day's anger, and Night & Mork
Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏
This is in part inspired (brainrot-induced? brainrot-fuelled?) by @chalkrevelations's post about the brothers and Day's behavior (go read it first if you're reading this!!) and in part just my usual language rambles observations.
Let's establish a few facts first
(all pronouns presented as A/B are to be understood as I/you)
Night is older than Day - by enough that he's older even than Mork! (Mork and Porjai both call Night พี่ /phi/ while referring to Day as น้อง /nong/)
The brothers use กู/มึง /guu, mueng/ with each other, despite their age gap. These are informal pronouns that are actually pretty rude outside of using them with people you're close to because they're overly familiar
-> for reference, Day, Gee and August all use these with each other, and Mork and Porjai use them with each other
Between ep. 1 and 2, Night and Mork go from the polite formal ผม/คุณ /pom, khun/ in both directions to Night using กู/มึง /guu, mueng/ and Mork using ผม/พี่ /pom, phi/ - they're friendly with each other!
-> for reference, that's the exact same as you hear P'Aof and JimmySea using in the bts- P'Aof uses กู/มึง /guu, mueng/ while Jimmy and Sea use ผม/พี่ /pom, phi/ with him
Same as I've said that Mork and Day's way of speaking is getting sweeter, Day and Night are. uh. kind of the opposite. But also, they barely talk directly to each other anyway.
So let's look at that fight in the car in ep. 8
Night tries to engage Day and an awkwardly-caught-in-the-middle Mork takes up the speaking instead. When Day opts to use Mork as a middleman (just one of many instances of both brothers not speaking directly with each other), Night keeps on trying to engage him to no success. And then he just kinda- 🥴
ส่วนห้องน้ำคนพิการอยู่ทางขวา /suan haawng naam khohn phi gaan yuu thaang khwaa/
-> คนพิการ /khohn phi gaan/ = disabled/handicapped person (don't let the /phi/ in the romanization fool you, it has nothing to do with the pronoun พี่ /phi/)
I wonder since when they've been this distant because Night here isn't looking at Day like he's a person, he's almost looking at Day only through the lens of 'person I need to take care of' - because of the responsibility their mom has put upon him and because he's the older brother - anyone who's the eldest child among siblings and feels seen please raise your hand 🙋♀️
Night means well, he cares about his brother - but he's also ignorant and a bit of a klutz with his words. It's being singled out as disabled and the implication of needing special treatment in everything that tick Day off enough to speak directly to Night and start getting rude:
The word here is เหี้ย /hiia/ and it won't be the last time or the only curse word he uses.
Night is saying all the wrong things of course, while Mork is sitting in the back having to witness it all (and maybe being reminded of fights he's had with his own sister).
มึงรู้ปะ ตอนนี้กูเห็นเหี้ยไร /mueng ruu bpa, dtaawn nee guu hen hiia rai/ = You know what the fuck I see right now?
กูไม่เห็นเหี้ยไรสักอย่างไง /guu mai hen hiia rai sak yaang ngai/ = I don't see a fucking thing!
แล้วทุกอย่างแม่งก็หนักขึ้นเรื่อย ๆ /laaeo tuk yaang maaeng gaaw nak khuen reuuay reuuay/ = And it's all damn getting worse.
แล้วเพราะกูรู้ว่าแม่งแค่ฝันเนี่ยะ /laaeo phraw guu ruu waa maaeng khaae fan nia/ = And because I know it's just a damn dream,
แม่งยิ่งเหี้ย /maaeng ying hiia/ = that's even more fucking shit.
Oof. Calm down, kiddo, this is your brother ;;
Day speaks with bitterness and resentment and viciousness. I don't think this started when Day started losing his sight but long before that, the way Day talks to and about his brother:
The only one who's looking out for Night is Mork
We actually get a lot of reaction shots of Mork silently watching and trying to parse the family dynamics, reaction shots of Night looking melancholic because of or happy for his brother, and sometimes it even looks like Night and Mork make sympathetic eye contact via reaction shots:
Night defends Mork several times in front of their mother and later tells Mork that they're grateful to him for making Day happier! And Mork does the same, he mentions Night to Day positively. Day doesn't realize it, for some reason, but Mork and Night talk to each other. And they see how Day interacts with the other one.
So it didn't surprise me at all to find out that Mork had gone behind Day's back yet again, after the brothers had that huge fight in the car. Of course Night knows where they are and that Day is safe. Of course Night knows. Night is constantly making sure that Day is okay without actually showing his involvement - he is just as invisible as Day and Mork were in parts of the story.
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STORMCHASER?? 👀
this fic has been ruminating in my head for almost a year..... it's a chalex au where charles stopped racing after winning gp3, and alex's family moved to the US when he was young and he visits every summer break just before storm season starts.
Charles texts him at 3:18AM on a Saturday in the middle of July: Alex! I hope you are dreaming sweet dreams. I will be in Dogwood in a week! Can I stay with you?
Alex smiles when he sees it in the morning. Charles asks the same question every summer, and he’s always so polite about it. Like Alex hasn’t seen him throw up on himself after drinking a box of wine, and hasn’t been opening his house to Charles for four years now. Like he doesn’t know how the first thing Alex does upon waking is check the forecast. He might not have the fancy equipment that Charles has, but he can see the cartoon of a little raincloud with lightning as well as anybody else. They’re promised high winds at the beginning of August. Alex had already prepared the spare room.
He replies, Hey charlie. What day would you be arriving?
The typing bubbles appear immediately, and a second later a string of kissy faces come through, followed by Hmmm thursday I think
Alex thumbs up the message, and then sends a photo of his view of the sunrise for good measure. In the foreground, there’s his windowsill, littered with various trinkets that Charles has brought before, and then below, the cafe's porch awning, and the sprawling fields for miles to see. Even without opening the window, the air feels fractious, hot.
Alex knows Charles understands, because he sends back four emojis: a battery, an electric plug, a thermometer, and a satellite. Alex smiles again, helplessly, before tucking his phone into his back pocket and heading out start his day.
Chloe is already starting to make breakfast. She turns as she hears him come down the stairs, and smirks when she sees his face. “Charles due soon?”
“Shut it,” he says. Chloe just smirks wider as she hands him a bowl and a carton of eggs.
+++++
Dogwood, Oklahoma, population 300, sits on State Highway 39, and the township’s economy is mostly fuelled by the tourists heading north to Kansas. It’s completely unremarkable, utterly boring, and the perfect place to spend three weeks of summer when your day job normally consists of multiple timezones a week.
His mum had bought the house and the attached cafe soon after they moved to the US: Albon's, a classic tourist trap place with cheap sandwiches and coffee, morphed into half a farm slash petting zoo when Luca wouldn’t stop rescuing animals and plunking them firmly in their backyard. The tourists kept asking about the donkeys wandering around the picnic tables, and Zoe had said eventually, “Well if they’re not going away, we might as well make some money.” They’re proudly advertised as family-owned and operated, which is supposed to make the people feel good about spending their money there, but mostly gets brought up through gritted teeth whenever Zoe and their mum argue about finances.
Alex tries not to get involved. Even though he makes more than enough money now for them to not need the cafe, he thinks it keeps his mum happy, to be reminded of the first life they'd had that was completely theirs.
And the cafe is how him and Charles are still friends. Alex had been furious when Charles told him he wasn't continuing with racing after winning GP3. Alex would have given everything to have beaten him, and here Charles was, acting like it didn't mean anything.
But Charles had followed him to Oklahoma that winter, instead of going home. He'd helped out at the cafe, and the night before his flight back to Monaco, he'd told Alex that he'd enrolled at Oklahoma State, tentative major in mech-E. Later, Alex will think that he probably had wanted to be an astronaut. Instead, when Charles' prof in sophomore year had taken his class out in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Charles had dragged Alex along with him, Alex had had the almost religious experience of watching Charles’ face as the sky crackled with lightning.
They’re still good friends; they text fairly frequently, but it’s been a year since they’ve seen each other. Charles is a proper stormchaser now, galivanting around the country on grant money from the college. He looks happy in every photo he posts on Instagram, writes long blog posts using words like isobars and Doppler effect and mobile broadband MNVO. And without fail, he stays at Alex's family home for a week before the storm season begins in earnest, and Alex sends him off to run after tornadoes, like a wife watching her husband leave for war.
+++++
Charles arrives in a flurry, bringing with him a battered Jeep fitted with mods Alex isn’t entirely sure are legal. As she does every year, his mother comes out to stand next to him on the porch as they pull up, and her eyebrows are thoroughly unimpressed until Charles’ smiling face hops out.
“Oh Charles!” she coos. “He was always such a good boy,” and then Charles is kissing her on both cheeks, saying hello and how she looks as beautiful ever, before he turns his attention on Alex, and even though Alex is twenty-six, he feels himself flush.
“Alexander,” Charles singsongs, and then mushes his face into Alex’s collarbone as he hugs him. Alex huffs out a laugh, wraps his own arms around Charles.
“It’s good to see you too,” he tells him. Charles beams at him, and Alex hasn’t followed Charles on one of his tornado chases since he was twenty, but under his gaze, he feels supercharged, electric.
Charles insists on helping out around the farm, because Alex absolutely puts his foot down when Charles offers to pay them for his week stay. This would be useful, because it’s the busiest part of the tourist season, if Charles were not completely useless. He takes nervous steps away when the animals approach him, clumsy with the dirty plates when clearing tables, and even though Alex knows that Charles can operate software with GIS overlay and the college’s ham radios that tune into Skywarn frequencies, he stares at their cash register with the same trepidation most people approach large spiders. And despite all of that— he charms all the little old ladies that come though the café doors, even when he messes up the orders. He makes Melina laugh, which in turn, lets Zoe get on with the bookkeeping undisturbed. He also brings in a shitload of tips. Alex hides a smile, watching Charles flit around and somehow be totally out of place and completely at home all at once.
It’s hard not to be charmed by Charles, his quick hands and the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Alex was a lost cause when he was eighteen; he sees no reason why that might have changed now.
+++++
Alex is always worried that Charles will get bored when he stays. Usually, he’s a doer, not a worrier, but he still has a training regime to keep up, so it's not like Alex can skive off to entertain Charles.
But they do have one tradition, and there’s nothing else to do on a Saturday night. So Alex takes the pickup truck they usually use for moving animals, cleans the hay and muck out, and drives Charles out to the fields. It’s a clear night, and they can see the stars, and he spreads out the blanket over the truckbed, throws down a couple of pillows, and leans back to look up at the night sky.
“Tell me about your year,” Charles demands, once they've settled in.
Alex shrugs. Anybody can find out how his year is going from every sports website under the sun. He nudges Charles. “Tell me about your year.”
But Charles shrugs too, even though he’s smiling, and starts telling him about clouds instead. “Cumulonimbus,” he says. “Cumulus means ‘heap’ in Latin and ‘nimbus’ means storm cloud. They mean a storm is coming— air currents care carrying the water vapour up. When they develop, they have this dome.” He cups his hands into shape. “And then they can become supercells.”
Alex knows about the team that Charles is going with this year: Lewis, who used to work for the National Weather Service but now he’s a storm spotter for fun; Seb, a professor of climatology and technically their team lead; Daniel, who looks like he’s only there because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a good driver.
Alex knows from reading the captions on Charles’ Instagram posts that storm season starts in August, and the café is the first stop. For the next two months, he’ll follows the weather patterns as they shift and morph on radar displays, driving into fields, into wide-open terrains of grass and dirt and lakes with no roads and a cloudless sky, and waiting for the winds to pick up before they go.
He knows their time is limited, so Alex drinks in the sight of Charles and all the ways he’s changed in the time they’ve been apart. He tries not to wish for anything more.
At the end of the week, two more Jeeps roll into the driveway, Seb, Lewis, and Daniel all get introduced in quick fashion, and then Charles kisses Alex high on his cheek, and waves at him the whole time they’re driving away. Alex watches him go, waving, sore.
+++++
August turns into September, and the season picks up again. Williams has a solid midfield car now, and it's good, seeing the fruits of his hard work, having a team around him that listens to him, takes him seriously. Him and Charles continue to text, infrequently, as they always have. Charles tells him about amazing tornadoes, sends photos of himself at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in nowhere towns on the side of highways, miles and miles of cornfields.
In return, Alex sends photos of the track, some terrible coffee they make him try for a marketing challenge, Luca screwing his face up at his maths homework, the crowd of fans at Singapore.
This is why it’s particularly insulting, that Alex finds out from fucking Lando of all people, that Charles got struck by lightning.
“What,” he says. His hands are clammy where he’s clutching his phone.
“Yeah, Max mentioned it to me. Guess Daniel told him. They’re having one of their weird on again things again.”
Alex couldn’t care less about whatever drama Lando has embroiled himself in. He’d known, logically, the risks of storm chasing. Except it was Charles, who has always seemed bigger than it all, exempt from the rules of physics and karma and everything else that made the rest of them mortal.
He checks Charles’ Instagram after Lando hangs up. The last post is still there, from a few hours ago. Alex had already seen it, liked it, thought nothing of it. A photo of a long stretch of highway, Daniel’s exaggeratedly frown. Location tagged Humboldt, Tennessee: stuck here for a few days with an upside down smiley face.
There’s a shiver running up his spine, a tense, live wire. If he touched anybody right now, he’s be unsurprised if the venom of it ran straight through them.
That feeling only intensifies in the twenty-four hours between Landos call and him pulling up outside the only motel in Humboldt. He stands outside the car feeling angry and frightened as he figures out what to say to Charles. This is greatly ruined by how Charles stumbles out ten minutes later in socks and slides, and stops dead.
“Alex?” He blinks. "You're supposed to be in Austin."
Alex is; it's Wednesday, race week. He has media duties in the paddock tomorrow.
“Did you get taller?” Charles asks, when Alex still doesn't say anything.
“I don’t think so,” Alex manages to get out. He's still feeling that sickly furious feeling, and Charles must see it on his face, because he huffs.
“Fucking— I’m fine, the car is ruined but it had to happen at some point.”
“Does it?”
Charles squints at him. “Is this a trick question?”
"Charles," Alex says, but he's stopped by movement in the motel. harles glances back. A door is open, and Seb is lounging casually against the door frame in sweats. Alex didn’t know it was possible for a man wearing a headband to look so frightening.
“Let’s go for a drive,” Charles says.
+++++
Charles directs them back onto the highway. He riddles with the radio, turning the dials until it crackles into a frequency that’s giving a weather report. Alex has to keep his eyes on the road to drive, but he knows what Charles looks like even without turning his head: lips pursed, hands twitching like he’s looking for a notebook before his thoughts fly away.
"Here," Charles finally says. It’s a dirt road turn off that looks like it leads nowhere, but Alex turns off all the same.
“You’re here,” Charles says wonderingly, even before he's killed the engine. Alex takes a deep breath, turns to face Charles. Seeing his face, whole, open, looking at Alex in that way lets the last of Alex’s worry melt away.
“Okay,” Charles says, and Alex leans forward and fists his hand in the collar of Charles’ shirt, and kisses him.
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