One Journey's End, Another's Beginning
Well folks, here we are: the last chapter of how Brad met Nate. Thanks to everyone who's been reading. I hope you enjoyed the ride.
Title: I Had It All Figured Out Until You Came Along - Chapter Ten
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Generation Kill”/“Band of Brothers”/”Good Omens”
Pairings: past Colbert/Caroline, eventual Colbert/Fick, vaguely hinted Crowley/Aziraphale if you squint your eyes and tilt your head just slightly to the left
Word Count: 2,322 for Chapter Ten
Rating: R
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom-verse…I think that says it all. Major credit goes to melliyna for being a huge influence on this, all of this.
~x~x~
For the second time in as many days, Ray Person found himself waking up in a hotel with no memory of how he got there.
The only difference was that this time the rooms had been bought and paid for with his full knowledge and there was more than just a mysterious receipt and some keycards to show for it. Also, this time Ray was opening his eyes to find a snoring and naked townie girl under the sheets next to him instead of an awake and nonplussed Brad Colbert in a second bed alongside his. He was willing to put down money that she’d feel as shitty as he currently did as soon as she rejoined the land of the conscious but all other thoughts promptly ceased when the stabbing pain behind both his eyeballs arrived. Which meant that, just like last time, Ray had drank way too much the night before.
“Hello hangover, my old friend,” he muttered to himself and tried not to move too quickly lest the spinning carnival ride known as the room suddenly tilted and dropped him on his ass. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d fallen out of bed, after all.
It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon by the time Ray felt enough like a human being to even attempt to start his day. The townie he’d had very enthusiastic and athletic sex with the night before told him, “well, it’s been fun but I need to shower and change before work,” as she dressed herself with the efficiency of someone who’d obviously done the morning after walk of shame before. She gave him a wink and a wave before putting on her sunglasses and heading out the door. Ray had to smile at that: a gal after his own heart. It was almost a shame he couldn’t remember what her name was.
After a shower and a change of clothes that didn’t smell like too much partying, Ray emerged from his room at the local Hanover Inn and knocked on his best friend’s door.
“Well, it looks as though you’ve avoided alcohol poisoning yet again,” Brad Colbert remarked matter-of-factly.
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Ray retorted. “It’s embarrassing when you gush like that.”
Brad smirked, laughed under his breath.
“So come on, holmes, I’m fucking starving,” Ray went on to say, “you know, now that my stomach’s stopped tying itself into an elaborate system of fucking Boy Scout knots and I feel like I can actually eat solid food without yakking it back up ten minutes later. This is a college town, there’s got to be some cheap-ass places to grab some grub around here.”
Brad nodded. “Roger that.”
Ray’s oversized shiny gold Elvis shades had never been as functional as they were at that point in time, blocking out the offending light of day as the former Merchant Marine nursed his latest hangover and contemplated coffee or something, anything, else that didn’t involve alcohol. Brad, meanwhile, looked annoyingly daisy-fresh despite their raucous night out on the town and Ray said so as they ordered sandwiches to go at a nearby deli.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were when we made it back to the hotel,” Brad stated as he considered the merits of potato chips versus pretzels. “Did you manage to get it up at all last night or was that buxom young townie you carted back to the hotel with you disappointed with not only the size of your microscopic dick but its inability to hold an erection?”
“Shut the fuck up, I fucked the shit out of that bitch.”
Brad laughed under his breath at Ray’s indignation.
“So what did you get up to last night?” Ray asked, picking out more energy drinks - as if he needed them.
“Oh, not much,” Brad replied nonchalantly. “I just carted your pathetic redneck, too drunk to walk straight, puking in the alley behind the bar, whiskey tango ass back to the hotel so you could rut with that bleached blonde specimen of young American sluthood and create whole new strains of STD previously unknown to science.”
“Yeah, I was sure to put on my rubber shorts before I dove into that but I should probably still get tested,” Ray commented.
“And then I followed your advice,” Brad continued, “which wasn’t a complete and total waste of fucking time and energy for a change.”
“Oh, good for you.” Ray nodded, smiling blankly.
“You don’t remember what you told me, do you, Ray?”
“Not a fucking clue, holmes.”
“You told me to go after him.”
Ray frowned in what he hoped was a thoughtful expression but really just displayed how utterly befuddled he was as to what that meant. “Right.”
Brad smiled with equal parts mockery and amusement. “You still have no fucking idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not really. So, you gonna clue me the fuck in or what? I mean, it’s not every day that I actually say or do something that you consider to be helpful so I’d like to find out what the fuck that was so I can commit it to memory and cherish it until the day I die.”
“I told you, you said to go after him so I did.”
“And?”
Brad’s grin took on an enigmatic twist as he accepted their sandwiches and headed for the cashier. “And I think it’s your turn to spring for food.”
Ray rolled his eyes but followed.
It wasn’t until they’d returned to the Hanover Inn and were sitting around Brad’s room chowing down on Reuben and Philly cheese steak that Ray’s spotty memory finally jump-started itself.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Ray spoke around his mouthful of beef, cheese, and onions. “Are you talking about that preppy-ass little faggot who was batting his eyelashes at you back at the bar?”
“His name is Nathaniel,” was Brad’s answer.
“Oh shit, what a fucking pansy-ass bullshit name.” Ray laughed and spewed small globs of half-chewed food in the process. “I thought only old dead guys from history books had names like that.”
Brad did not look nearly as entertained. “Ray, shut your fucking mouth.”
“So wait, what do you mean you went after him?” Ray’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit, don’t tell me you actually went gay. You oughta know better than to listen to the shit I say when I’m drunk. Just because the whole dating guys thing worked out for my cousin George doesn’t mean…”
“I walked him to his dorm, that’s all,” Brad said. “We sat in the park outside his building and talked for a while, then I said goodnight.”
“Uh-huh, was it the kind of goodnight that involved tongues being jammed down throats?”
Brad sighed. “No.”
“Good, because I don’t think I could live with that kind of mental imagery.”
“Just be grateful that I left Nate when I did because when I got back to Betty Coltrane’s it was just in time to collect your inbred trailer trash retard ass before they threw you out the door.”
“Nate? You’re calling him Nate now?”
“What did you expect me to call him?”
Ray was about to make a joke about Brad calling the kid something along the lines of “precious angel sweetie-kins” but the Iceman glint that was appearing in the taller man’s eyes made him think twice about such a remark.
“Fucking A, Brad,” Ray finally said, “all I’m saying is that…I don’t know…shit’s fucked up. I mean, we really oughta hit the road soon, you know? We drove up here so you could make your peace with that cunt of your ex-girlfriend and douchebag ex-best friend - which you’ve done now so let’s get the fuck outta Dodge, all right? Shit, man, nothing good’s going to come out of us sticking around this crap-ass liberal hippie dick-suck town for more than a couple days and we both know it. You faced your past, I got some pussy, and we had a few laughs in between. End of story. So let’s move on to the next chapter now. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I’m thinking of moving here,” Brad announced abruptly.
Ray Person almost choked on his sandwich. Then he stared as though his best friend had just proclaimed himself to be a thousand year old Viking vampire. “All right, who the fuck are you and what’ve you done with the Iceman?”
“Ray…”
“Seriously, because this is not the Brad fucking Colbert that I know and love,” Ray declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the other young man. “What the fuck is this shit? It was crazy enough that you wanted to leave the Merchant Marines but now? Fucking moving into this weak-titty dick-up-the-ass leftist haven for momma’s boys and daddy’s girls who do nothing but sip fruity overpriced Starbucks shit and contemplate their own navels? What the fuck, man? That’s total fucking bullshit. Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Brad Colbert sighed and set aside his sandwich, wiping his hands and taking a long gulp of iced tea before turning to Ray and trying to explain things as succinctly as possible.
“Ray,” he said, “I’m tired, and I don’t mean that in a ‘gee, I could really use a nap right now’ sort of way. I have the kind of exhaustion that cuts right down do the bone and beyond, that sucks the vitality out of my fucking soul. I am tired and I am fucking sick to death of everything in my life eventually feeling hollow and unfulfilling.
“You think I don’t know how insane it was for me to leave the Merchant Marines? I loved our ship and our captain and our crew; which is why I had to leave while everything still had meaning. I don’t expect you to understand but I do expect you to respect my fucking decisions. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what anybody else thinks.”
Ray shook his head, wrung his hands and flailed his arms as he started pacing the room. “But why the fuck do you have to stay here? Shit, holmes, I get that you want to have a taste at something other than the seafaring nomadic life but fuck, why’d you have to pick this place? What about California? Or shit, if you want to stay on the East Coast then what about New York City? My cousin George is there, you know? He could help set you up with a place to live and a job and shit, I mean, the guy’s got connections and he ain’t afraid to use them. But no, instead you had to pick this buttfuck town where all you’ve got is a hotel room and the only people you know are a treacherous twatwaffle, her asswipe husband, and some random jailbait pillow-biter you were chatting up at the bar.
“And dude, if you want to fuck him then just fuck him. I won’t judge you, Brad, and you should know that by now. Shit, with a mouth like his I’m sure he gives good head and if the way he was gazing at you last night was any indication then I can practically guarantee you that he’d happily bend over so you could pound him up the ass until he couldn’t walk straight for a month. But if you’re gonna fuck him then just fuck him, don’t go getting all starry-eyed. Doing something stupid like falling for some Ivy League fairy is the last fucking thing that you need. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Brad nodded, regarding his best friend with a faint smile. “Solid copy, Ray.”
Ray let out a huff and then plopped back down, picking up his sandwich again. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. You know this is all that stupid fucking bartender and his stupid fucking faggot friend’s fault, you know? If they hadn’t of said anything about stupid fucking Caroline and stupid fucking Frank then we’d still be knee-deep in pussy back in Boston and you’d never even dream of living in this stupid fucking college town.”
“Ray, you don’t have to…”
“Brad, just shut the fuck up, okay?” Ray smiled and shook his head, regarding his best friend with a mix of aggravation, devotion, and bemusement. “Of course I’m sticking around. Do you really think I’m going to let you do this shit on your own, even if it is batshit insane and ass-up retarded? I don’t think so. So just shut the fuck up. You know I’ve got your six, no matter what.”
Brad returned the grin, warmly and genuinely. “Thank you, Ray.”
“You owe me, holmes, big time.”
“I know.”
Brad breathed out a sigh, only half-listening as Ray Person jabbered on about a long string of non sequitur tangents. They couldn’t stay at the Hanover Inn forever; hotels were not homes. The Hummer would have to be returned to the rental company eventually, even if Ray had fallen in love with the giant beige monstrosity. Brad’s parents would probably want to hear from him at some point and the same held true for Ray and his sprawling creeping ivy of a trailer park family tree. Brad had to get his motorcycle out of storage. Then there was the matter of finding an apartment and a job and everything else that came with relocating.
But all that could wait until tomorrow. Right now there was just the liberating promise of one journey coming to an end and another beginning. There was a warm corkscrew sensation in Brad Colbert’s chest to go with the phone number in his pocket and he had every intention of following through because it wasn’t every day that a smile like Nathaniel Fick’s entered his life.
Nate…Brad shook his head, tried not to smile like a fool. He had it all figured out until Nate came along.
The End.
Title: I Had It All Figured Out Until You Came Along - Chapter Ten
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Generation Kill”/“Band of Brothers”/”Good Omens”
Pairings: past Colbert/Caroline, eventual Colbert/Fick, vaguely hinted Crowley/Aziraphale if you squint your eyes and tilt your head just slightly to the left
Word Count: 2,322 for Chapter Ten
Rating: R
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom-verse…I think that says it all. Major credit goes to melliyna for being a huge influence on this, all of this.
~x~x~
For the second time in as many days, Ray Person found himself waking up in a hotel with no memory of how he got there.
The only difference was that this time the rooms had been bought and paid for with his full knowledge and there was more than just a mysterious receipt and some keycards to show for it. Also, this time Ray was opening his eyes to find a snoring and naked townie girl under the sheets next to him instead of an awake and nonplussed Brad Colbert in a second bed alongside his. He was willing to put down money that she’d feel as shitty as he currently did as soon as she rejoined the land of the conscious but all other thoughts promptly ceased when the stabbing pain behind both his eyeballs arrived. Which meant that, just like last time, Ray had drank way too much the night before.
“Hello hangover, my old friend,” he muttered to himself and tried not to move too quickly lest the spinning carnival ride known as the room suddenly tilted and dropped him on his ass. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d fallen out of bed, after all.
It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon by the time Ray felt enough like a human being to even attempt to start his day. The townie he’d had very enthusiastic and athletic sex with the night before told him, “well, it’s been fun but I need to shower and change before work,” as she dressed herself with the efficiency of someone who’d obviously done the morning after walk of shame before. She gave him a wink and a wave before putting on her sunglasses and heading out the door. Ray had to smile at that: a gal after his own heart. It was almost a shame he couldn’t remember what her name was.
After a shower and a change of clothes that didn’t smell like too much partying, Ray emerged from his room at the local Hanover Inn and knocked on his best friend’s door.
“Well, it looks as though you’ve avoided alcohol poisoning yet again,” Brad Colbert remarked matter-of-factly.
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Ray retorted. “It’s embarrassing when you gush like that.”
Brad smirked, laughed under his breath.
“So come on, holmes, I’m fucking starving,” Ray went on to say, “you know, now that my stomach’s stopped tying itself into an elaborate system of fucking Boy Scout knots and I feel like I can actually eat solid food without yakking it back up ten minutes later. This is a college town, there’s got to be some cheap-ass places to grab some grub around here.”
Brad nodded. “Roger that.”
Ray’s oversized shiny gold Elvis shades had never been as functional as they were at that point in time, blocking out the offending light of day as the former Merchant Marine nursed his latest hangover and contemplated coffee or something, anything, else that didn’t involve alcohol. Brad, meanwhile, looked annoyingly daisy-fresh despite their raucous night out on the town and Ray said so as they ordered sandwiches to go at a nearby deli.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were when we made it back to the hotel,” Brad stated as he considered the merits of potato chips versus pretzels. “Did you manage to get it up at all last night or was that buxom young townie you carted back to the hotel with you disappointed with not only the size of your microscopic dick but its inability to hold an erection?”
“Shut the fuck up, I fucked the shit out of that bitch.”
Brad laughed under his breath at Ray’s indignation.
“So what did you get up to last night?” Ray asked, picking out more energy drinks - as if he needed them.
“Oh, not much,” Brad replied nonchalantly. “I just carted your pathetic redneck, too drunk to walk straight, puking in the alley behind the bar, whiskey tango ass back to the hotel so you could rut with that bleached blonde specimen of young American sluthood and create whole new strains of STD previously unknown to science.”
“Yeah, I was sure to put on my rubber shorts before I dove into that but I should probably still get tested,” Ray commented.
“And then I followed your advice,” Brad continued, “which wasn’t a complete and total waste of fucking time and energy for a change.”
“Oh, good for you.” Ray nodded, smiling blankly.
“You don’t remember what you told me, do you, Ray?”
“Not a fucking clue, holmes.”
“You told me to go after him.”
Ray frowned in what he hoped was a thoughtful expression but really just displayed how utterly befuddled he was as to what that meant. “Right.”
Brad smiled with equal parts mockery and amusement. “You still have no fucking idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not really. So, you gonna clue me the fuck in or what? I mean, it’s not every day that I actually say or do something that you consider to be helpful so I’d like to find out what the fuck that was so I can commit it to memory and cherish it until the day I die.”
“I told you, you said to go after him so I did.”
“And?”
Brad’s grin took on an enigmatic twist as he accepted their sandwiches and headed for the cashier. “And I think it’s your turn to spring for food.”
Ray rolled his eyes but followed.
It wasn’t until they’d returned to the Hanover Inn and were sitting around Brad’s room chowing down on Reuben and Philly cheese steak that Ray’s spotty memory finally jump-started itself.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Ray spoke around his mouthful of beef, cheese, and onions. “Are you talking about that preppy-ass little faggot who was batting his eyelashes at you back at the bar?”
“His name is Nathaniel,” was Brad’s answer.
“Oh shit, what a fucking pansy-ass bullshit name.” Ray laughed and spewed small globs of half-chewed food in the process. “I thought only old dead guys from history books had names like that.”
Brad did not look nearly as entertained. “Ray, shut your fucking mouth.”
“So wait, what do you mean you went after him?” Ray’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit, don’t tell me you actually went gay. You oughta know better than to listen to the shit I say when I’m drunk. Just because the whole dating guys thing worked out for my cousin George doesn’t mean…”
“I walked him to his dorm, that’s all,” Brad said. “We sat in the park outside his building and talked for a while, then I said goodnight.”
“Uh-huh, was it the kind of goodnight that involved tongues being jammed down throats?”
Brad sighed. “No.”
“Good, because I don’t think I could live with that kind of mental imagery.”
“Just be grateful that I left Nate when I did because when I got back to Betty Coltrane’s it was just in time to collect your inbred trailer trash retard ass before they threw you out the door.”
“Nate? You’re calling him Nate now?”
“What did you expect me to call him?”
Ray was about to make a joke about Brad calling the kid something along the lines of “precious angel sweetie-kins” but the Iceman glint that was appearing in the taller man’s eyes made him think twice about such a remark.
“Fucking A, Brad,” Ray finally said, “all I’m saying is that…I don’t know…shit’s fucked up. I mean, we really oughta hit the road soon, you know? We drove up here so you could make your peace with that cunt of your ex-girlfriend and douchebag ex-best friend - which you’ve done now so let’s get the fuck outta Dodge, all right? Shit, man, nothing good’s going to come out of us sticking around this crap-ass liberal hippie dick-suck town for more than a couple days and we both know it. You faced your past, I got some pussy, and we had a few laughs in between. End of story. So let’s move on to the next chapter now. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I’m thinking of moving here,” Brad announced abruptly.
Ray Person almost choked on his sandwich. Then he stared as though his best friend had just proclaimed himself to be a thousand year old Viking vampire. “All right, who the fuck are you and what’ve you done with the Iceman?”
“Ray…”
“Seriously, because this is not the Brad fucking Colbert that I know and love,” Ray declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the other young man. “What the fuck is this shit? It was crazy enough that you wanted to leave the Merchant Marines but now? Fucking moving into this weak-titty dick-up-the-ass leftist haven for momma’s boys and daddy’s girls who do nothing but sip fruity overpriced Starbucks shit and contemplate their own navels? What the fuck, man? That’s total fucking bullshit. Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Brad Colbert sighed and set aside his sandwich, wiping his hands and taking a long gulp of iced tea before turning to Ray and trying to explain things as succinctly as possible.
“Ray,” he said, “I’m tired, and I don’t mean that in a ‘gee, I could really use a nap right now’ sort of way. I have the kind of exhaustion that cuts right down do the bone and beyond, that sucks the vitality out of my fucking soul. I am tired and I am fucking sick to death of everything in my life eventually feeling hollow and unfulfilling.
“You think I don’t know how insane it was for me to leave the Merchant Marines? I loved our ship and our captain and our crew; which is why I had to leave while everything still had meaning. I don’t expect you to understand but I do expect you to respect my fucking decisions. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what anybody else thinks.”
Ray shook his head, wrung his hands and flailed his arms as he started pacing the room. “But why the fuck do you have to stay here? Shit, holmes, I get that you want to have a taste at something other than the seafaring nomadic life but fuck, why’d you have to pick this place? What about California? Or shit, if you want to stay on the East Coast then what about New York City? My cousin George is there, you know? He could help set you up with a place to live and a job and shit, I mean, the guy’s got connections and he ain’t afraid to use them. But no, instead you had to pick this buttfuck town where all you’ve got is a hotel room and the only people you know are a treacherous twatwaffle, her asswipe husband, and some random jailbait pillow-biter you were chatting up at the bar.
“And dude, if you want to fuck him then just fuck him. I won’t judge you, Brad, and you should know that by now. Shit, with a mouth like his I’m sure he gives good head and if the way he was gazing at you last night was any indication then I can practically guarantee you that he’d happily bend over so you could pound him up the ass until he couldn’t walk straight for a month. But if you’re gonna fuck him then just fuck him, don’t go getting all starry-eyed. Doing something stupid like falling for some Ivy League fairy is the last fucking thing that you need. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Brad nodded, regarding his best friend with a faint smile. “Solid copy, Ray.”
Ray let out a huff and then plopped back down, picking up his sandwich again. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. You know this is all that stupid fucking bartender and his stupid fucking faggot friend’s fault, you know? If they hadn’t of said anything about stupid fucking Caroline and stupid fucking Frank then we’d still be knee-deep in pussy back in Boston and you’d never even dream of living in this stupid fucking college town.”
“Ray, you don’t have to…”
“Brad, just shut the fuck up, okay?” Ray smiled and shook his head, regarding his best friend with a mix of aggravation, devotion, and bemusement. “Of course I’m sticking around. Do you really think I’m going to let you do this shit on your own, even if it is batshit insane and ass-up retarded? I don’t think so. So just shut the fuck up. You know I’ve got your six, no matter what.”
Brad returned the grin, warmly and genuinely. “Thank you, Ray.”
“You owe me, holmes, big time.”
“I know.”
Brad breathed out a sigh, only half-listening as Ray Person jabbered on about a long string of non sequitur tangents. They couldn’t stay at the Hanover Inn forever; hotels were not homes. The Hummer would have to be returned to the rental company eventually, even if Ray had fallen in love with the giant beige monstrosity. Brad’s parents would probably want to hear from him at some point and the same held true for Ray and his sprawling creeping ivy of a trailer park family tree. Brad had to get his motorcycle out of storage. Then there was the matter of finding an apartment and a job and everything else that came with relocating.
But all that could wait until tomorrow. Right now there was just the liberating promise of one journey coming to an end and another beginning. There was a warm corkscrew sensation in Brad Colbert’s chest to go with the phone number in his pocket and he had every intention of following through because it wasn’t every day that a smile like Nathaniel Fick’s entered his life.
Nate…Brad shook his head, tried not to smile like a fool. He had it all figured out until Nate came along.
The End.