callumbooths:

gallys au: high school. 
for leslie because she’s graduating and i’m too cheap for a proper gift. <3

*

(774) i just walked into a room at this party and someone yelled “dibs!”…

Chucky has no idea how Prusty talked him into this.

Something about how he should feel honored that Prusty, a senior, had invited him, a freshman, to his legendary end of the year bash. Which people have been “sucking up to me for years to get invited to, kid.”

Chucky has no idea why.

The place is flooded with people, half of which Chucky is pretty positive don’t even go to their school. The music is outrageously loud, to the point that he’s had a slight headache since he came in the door. Not to mention he’s pretty sure someone tried to drown themselves with beer in the bathtub earlier. 

A guy dressed in cowboy boots that Chucky vaguely recognizes as the team’s goalie last year is bent over the sound system and Chucky can tell whatever he’s up to can’t possibly be any good if the way he and P.K. are grinning at each other is anything to go by. They quickly low five each other three times in a row before heading to the dance floor. The unmistakable sound of southern twang starts echoing throughout the room and although it’s accompanied by an electric guitar Chucky still starts heading to the kitchen for a drink. He needs alcohol to deal with country music, even if it’s of the pseudo rock persuasion. 

He’s coming out of the kitchen with a beer in hand, wondering if it’s been long enough that the couple that was inhabiting the usual room he stayed in at Prusty’s is finished, when an arm snakes its way around his neck and a voice is yelling into his ear. “DIBS.” 

“Gally, what the fuck,” He yells, wiping at his mouth as Gally had chosen the exact moment he had begun to drink to hassle him.

"My Chucky,” Gally grins, cheeks flushed and smile wide, “mine, mine, mine.” He rests his head on Chucky’s neck and nuzzles into the skin there. Chucky closes his eyes and tries not to think about how good it feels. 

“You’re drunk,” Chucky says, putting an arm around Gally’s shoulders and cursing silently to himself when Gally makes a contented noise and presses closer. 

“Mmm,” Gally says noncommittally and Chucky resigns himself to getting him up the stairs without falling. 

They finally make it to the second floor and into an unoccupied bedroom but only after three extremely unsuccessful attempts in which Gally points to the annoyed couple and giggles while Chucky apologizes profusely. Chucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen Brière look that angry, not even during practice, and Chucky is almost entirely convinced their going to be harshly punished on Monday.  But now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure the glimpse of ginger hair he caught in the room with him is the same color of the guy who wears the C for their rivals and maybe he can use that as leverage.

Chucky grunts as he plops Gally down onto the bed and bends down to take his socks off. He turns to toss them into the laundry basket and when he turns back around Gally’s lying on back on the bed, already snoring.

“Gally,” Chucky says, “Gally. Wake up, dammit." 

"Hmm?” Gally asks, sitting back up with eyes still closed, swaying slightly. Chucky sighs and quickly helps him slip out of his jeans, pulls his shirt over his head. Gally flops back down onto the bed once he’s finished and Chucky moves him around until he’s under the covers.

He sits at the end of the bed, resting for a minute, starting when Gally’s hand grabs onto his arm. “Chuck-y,” he whines, burrowing his body into the mattress until he’s comfortable. “Mine.”

Chucky swallows the lump in his throat and looks at him, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, his pink mouth open. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, “yours."