CH. FORTY
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"Alright, Chuck." She nods. "I've talked to him yesterday. He promised not to kill you. Did get a little suspicious because of my request, but alright. He won't expect us to bother his break on the toilet."

A laugh escapes Chuck's mouth. He's been here for three days, remember his name when he accidentally tripped over a stone, and is now supposed to be training as a Tool-Maker, except they have other plans.

"I'll have a good word for you, by the way," she adds. "If you want to be a Tool-Maker."

"I haven't been good at anything so far." Slowly, his bottom lip starts to move forward again. "So yes, please!"

She grins. "Because you said please. Now come on! We've got a grumpy boyfriend to scare."

Nodding in excitement, Chuck follows her toward the little window that's above the toilet. She holds a finger against her lips before she gives him the sign. With a chuckle, the kid slams his fists against the window a few times, then starts running away as fast as he can, Joan on his heels while there's... quite some yells from the toilet.

At some point, they've reached the picnic tables. And they don't even get to catch their breath; Gally has already arrived in front of them.

Chuck jumps behind her with a yelp, as if she's a human shield, or a barrier between him and Gally.

"I take back what I said," Gally decides.

"No. You'll be nice to Chuck," she replies. "It was just a little game we were playing. Also, it was my idea! So don't blame him."

He tilts his head to the side. "Your idea, hm?"

"Yup." She puts her hands on her hips, nodding heavily. "My idea."

Him reaching behind them, grabbing a bowl, and pouring the little yogurt that was left in it all over the side of her face and neck happens so fast that she can't even react for a few seconds.

Then she gasps, just like Chuck, and wipes it out of her eye. "You're gonna regret doing that," she threatens.

"I'm not scared of you."

"We already collected a ton of spiders this morning," Chuck lies.

Following along, Joan nods. "I'll stick them right up your ass. And put them in your yogurt."

"She really will," Chuck adds. Okay, maybe that was a little unnecessary to add, but he's kind for helping...?

"And what if I clean that up?" Gally's eyes trail to the yogurt, dripping onto her shirt.

Her eyebrows raise. "Then I'll only put the spiders in your yogurt. But you have to make sure my shirt gets out of the laundry clean, too!"

"Okay," he promises. "Sit down on the table so I can reach your neck."

"You don't have a cloth."

"I don't need a cloth to clean it up."

She frowns for a few seconds, then her eyes wide. "Ah-ah, we're not doing that in public and especially not in front of the kid!"

"Fine," he huffs. "At least let me do it like this, then." Gally takes steps closer until he's in front of her, and wipes the yogurt off her cheek with his hand. Shakes it off, then continues until most trails are gone.

She looks up to find him grinning lightly. Some sort of smile, but amusement in his eyes, which have lighted up. Blue, with gray dots. Quite admirable, as always. But especially now, when daylight allows the colors to spring out. Oh, and then his freckles—  

"Would you two stop looking at each other like that? It disgusts me."

"You disgust me," Gally shoots back at the kid, not taking his eyes off her at all. "Besides, I was here first. I was on damn earth first. So you can leave."

Chuck scoffs. "You're a big baby."

"You're a small baby," he snaps. "And never call me a baby again, baby."

"Ahw, bromance!" she encourages. "Calling each other baby. So cute."

"A baby, not baby," Gally corrects. "He's a baby."

"Newt called me a tit-suckin' baby," Chuck says out of nowhere. "That's better than just a baby."

(A/N: No cuz I remember Newt actually saying something like that in the books)

"Guess Gally's a—"

"Do not finish that sentence, Joan," he grumbles, face growing red. "And yes, Chuck, you're a tit-suckin' baby. Shuck off."

Innocently, the kid glares at him. "Fine. Joan, what way is your hut again? I forgot."

"To your..." she stops. Frowns. Holds up two L-shaped hands. "To the right!"

"Don't tell me you don't know the difference between left and right."

"Don't tell me you don't know the difference between a pad and a tampon."

"The what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Besides the fact I don't know left and right, I am very smart!"

"You can't even tie your shoelaces. I had to write a note to the Box to get you Velcro shoes," he says dryly.

A gasp. "So that was you! I thought they came at me like they're destined," she says. "But hey, bet you don't know the difference between prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells."

No reply.

"Or the difference between Vaporization and Evaporation."

His mouth closes.

"Aldose and Ketose?

Silenced.

"Or Nitrite and—"

"I get it," he states. A short pause, then, "You're a nerd."

"Listen here, you Pikachurin... idiotic piece of pidza—"

"Did you just call me Pikachu?"

"No, I said Pikachurin. That's not Pikachu, you dunce. But moving on, I'm going to take a shower to clean this fucking yogurt off before it starts to stain."

"I'll come with you."

"Awesome," she says, quickly making her way to the showers. "Where did Chuck go, by the way?"

"Fled to Newt or something."

Nodding, she opens the door to the showers. When Gally tries to join her inside, she glares at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I said I'd come with you."

"To keep watch."

"That's not what I was going for."

"Well, it is what I'm going for. So thank you, to be so polite to keep watch!"

"Ah, come on—"

"Another time," she decides, no matter how badly the butterflies in her stomach are multiplying. After the insults, he doesn't deserve satisfaction just yet.

❀

Okay, she apparently can't hold a grudge against him. Not for long, at least.

"Stop it," she hisses, wiggling with her leg to get his hand off, which he's only trailing further up, while Camil, Fry, Newt, and Winston are in front of them.

"You uncomfortable?"

"No, but—"

"Perfect," and he doesn't remove his hand. Does stop trailing it up, though. (It's already high up her inner thigh).

With a familiar grin, Fry looks around. "So, anything interesting been going on lately?"

She's been backing off with the Griever things a bit the last weeks, but her mind's always up, rethinking the scientific things she did in the past. That's why she knows all those names so well now.

"I think I've turned seventeen at least half a year ago," she announces, shrugging. "Not that that really matters. But I'm for sure not fifteen!"

"I assume you're not, yeah," Newt agrees. "Yet I'm still older."

"So what? I'm way smarter. The only way to notice you're older are your motherly actions."

"My what?"

"Your motherly actions."

"Yeah? What about you, when Chuck came up? Who was acting like the Mom then?"

She scoffs at the blonde, but there's not much of a reply, because she indeed cares a little more about Chuck than about other Greenies. He's just so young!

Newt smirks in victory. "Got you there."

"Well, you take care of everyone like a mother," she snaps as she pulls a face.

"Good to know you think I'm sweet."

The grip on her thigh tightens. She does her best to ignore it. It heats her cheeks up, though. As if his hand is burning through her skin. So wrong but nice at once.

Her head tilts to the side. "Yeah. Such a sweet baby face, Newt."

"Your face isn't exactly the most grown up either. And at least I'm tall."

Camil muffles a laugh in his hand. The playful argument is so random that Winston has been making faces through the whole thing, while Fry's grin only widens at Gally's expression.

"At least my success is further up than yours!"

"At least my ego isn't that far up."

She gasps. "At least my... at least— I don't freaking know!"

"Ha!" Satisfied, Newt smiles. "I won."

"Oh, yeah? I'll fight you in the ring one day! and I'll win."

He lifts his chin up. "Hm. Bet you wouldn't win with arm wrestling, though. I'm close to even beating Minho."

"Kids game."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"Not at all," she replies. Eventually, the girl holds out her hand. "Come on, then."

Newt settles himself, scooting closer as he leans forward— and then a glass of water falls over, wetting his shirt.

Fry snorts, for some reason, and Camil is grinning by now.

Offended by whatever caused that, Joan puts the glass back up. "Moving on—"

"I just remembered Joan and I still have things to nail down. Building crap," Gally says.

She frowns. "No, we don't."

"Jealous much?" Camil and Fry chuckle in unison.

His glare at them shoots daggers. "Not at all."

"Mhmmm, sure."

Joan takes a sharp breath, remembering his current hand placement. Or tries to imagine what might happen if she goes 'nailing' those things down. Remembers their previous moments, or any heated moment they've ever shared.

It doesn't sound too bad.

At all.