Generation Kill fic
Ok, this is the first fic I've written in . . . well, I can't remember. A very long time. Which is why it's only just over 500 words. May do a sequel, not decided yet.
Fandom: Generation Kill - book and mini-series
Rating: G (pre-slash I think perhaps)
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Nate Fick
Warning: Other than it's the first thing I've written in ages, probably nothing. Not entirely sure about some terminology.
Sergeant Brad Colbert sat on the side of a bank, the Platoon's Humvees rose above his head in the darkness. Icy blue eyes were slitted against the dark night as though the desert sun was still shining, but they missed nothing; they rarely did.
He could hear the movement of other marines in the darkness, those not asleep or on watch were trying to prepare for moving out at any time, making sure as much damage as possible was repaired before the next firefight.
‘Encino Man’s’ voice cut through the night air, an indistinct murmur. Damn the incompetent shitheads he thought.
Brad Colbert saw the world, particularly War, in black and white. He was paid to do a job, one he was a natural at and so very very good. He was the best, at the moment. The Team Leader of the Year award wasn't one he'd worked to get, he's simply done what he did to the best of his considerable ability.
When he saw the fleeting pained looks on his LT's face at the actions and comments and even orders of his fellow officers it made him angry. The LT was not the usual type of officer, Colbert had figured that as soon as they met. He was there to fight and kill as they all were, but he had never seen an officer question orders and give a damn about his men in the way that Fick did. He hid it well, but Colbert saw through it, he had got hiding things down to the ultimate fine art. The LT didn't fit into his black and white world and therefore needed more thought at consideration than many things. Tonight, now, in the darkness he had a fleeting opportunity to give Fick the consideration that was required.
He looked up and saw a faint flash of light on the horizon, raising his M4 in a swift fluid moment he looked through the sight. The green glow of the Iraqi night reflected back at him, the movement of a single vehicle on the horizon was then of no further interest to him.
Nate Fick had wormed his way inside Colbert's head in a way no-one had done for a very long time. It was only his insane ability to compartmentalise absolutely everything which meant that this was the first time he'd looked at it.
He thought about those pale green eyes which were the window to Nate's soul, those full lips which barked out orders and queried orders with the same fierce intelligence and expectation. A smirk graced Colbert's lips; it would be intense, he thought, to have all that intelligence and the emotion he saw in those beautiful eyes focused on him.
Blue eyes moved, following the place where he knew the horizon was, he heard a single soft footstep behind him.
"Morning LT."
"Brad."
Colbert looked up, eyes brightly appraising as if he hadn't been awake for thirty hours straight.
"Something I can help you with Sir?"
Fick glanced at the spot on the horizon where Colbert's eyes had been focused earlier then he looked back at his Sergeant, sat on the desert ground.
"There usually is. In the meantime may I join you."
Brad said nothing, simply nodding.
Fick sat down, is knee brushing firmly as he did so, deliberately too, of that Brad was sure. Fick was a marine officer he did nothing unless he intended to. Brad smiled to himself, he was Team Leader of the Year, neither did he.
Fandom: Generation Kill - book and mini-series
Rating: G (pre-slash I think perhaps)
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Nate Fick
Warning: Other than it's the first thing I've written in ages, probably nothing. Not entirely sure about some terminology.
Sergeant Brad Colbert sat on the side of a bank, the Platoon's Humvees rose above his head in the darkness. Icy blue eyes were slitted against the dark night as though the desert sun was still shining, but they missed nothing; they rarely did.
He could hear the movement of other marines in the darkness, those not asleep or on watch were trying to prepare for moving out at any time, making sure as much damage as possible was repaired before the next firefight.
‘Encino Man’s’ voice cut through the night air, an indistinct murmur. Damn the incompetent shitheads he thought.
Brad Colbert saw the world, particularly War, in black and white. He was paid to do a job, one he was a natural at and so very very good. He was the best, at the moment. The Team Leader of the Year award wasn't one he'd worked to get, he's simply done what he did to the best of his considerable ability.
When he saw the fleeting pained looks on his LT's face at the actions and comments and even orders of his fellow officers it made him angry. The LT was not the usual type of officer, Colbert had figured that as soon as they met. He was there to fight and kill as they all were, but he had never seen an officer question orders and give a damn about his men in the way that Fick did. He hid it well, but Colbert saw through it, he had got hiding things down to the ultimate fine art. The LT didn't fit into his black and white world and therefore needed more thought at consideration than many things. Tonight, now, in the darkness he had a fleeting opportunity to give Fick the consideration that was required.
He looked up and saw a faint flash of light on the horizon, raising his M4 in a swift fluid moment he looked through the sight. The green glow of the Iraqi night reflected back at him, the movement of a single vehicle on the horizon was then of no further interest to him.
Nate Fick had wormed his way inside Colbert's head in a way no-one had done for a very long time. It was only his insane ability to compartmentalise absolutely everything which meant that this was the first time he'd looked at it.
He thought about those pale green eyes which were the window to Nate's soul, those full lips which barked out orders and queried orders with the same fierce intelligence and expectation. A smirk graced Colbert's lips; it would be intense, he thought, to have all that intelligence and the emotion he saw in those beautiful eyes focused on him.
Blue eyes moved, following the place where he knew the horizon was, he heard a single soft footstep behind him.
"Morning LT."
"Brad."
Colbert looked up, eyes brightly appraising as if he hadn't been awake for thirty hours straight.
"Something I can help you with Sir?"
Fick glanced at the spot on the horizon where Colbert's eyes had been focused earlier then he looked back at his Sergeant, sat on the desert ground.
"There usually is. In the meantime may I join you."
Brad said nothing, simply nodding.
Fick sat down, is knee brushing firmly as he did so, deliberately too, of that Brad was sure. Fick was a marine officer he did nothing unless he intended to. Brad smiled to himself, he was Team Leader of the Year, neither did he.