More last kisses
More last kisses - I swear, I'll manage one that's not so depressing at some point, but this is not that point.
Generation Kill, Nate/Brad
"Oh," Nate said. The door was heavy against his hand - fire door, Brad had said, because you just never knew. "I should have knocked." Though the door had been ajar, and he'd meant to surprise Brad, as much as anyone could ever surprise Brad.
The look on Brad's face said he'd succeeded too well.
"I can..." The woman - she was pretty, brown hair, brown eyes, like Brad's ex-fiancée. "Maybe I should give you a minute. I'll go make some tea."
Irish accent, Nate realized. Like the British, tea in a crisis. Maybe that's where Brad had met her, though he'd never mentioned it.
"It's fine," he said. "Clearly this is a bad time, I should have called ahead. I should go."
"You can stay," Brad said. "You should stay. Have tea, Anna's got scones."
He was smiling, inviting Nate to share the joke, and Nate couldn't figure out if he meant it, or if he was covering. He didn't want to imagine what his own face looked like.
"This isn't a good time," he said again. Anna had taken a couple of steps back when Nate first spoke, but she was still in Brad's space, or Brad was in hers. She frowned. "I'll call you later."
He didn't bother hurrying down Brad's front path, knowing that Brad would follow, and catch him. He'd never been able to outrun Brad. "You should have let me know you were coming," Brad said, catching up to him in the shadow of the garage. "I could have picked you up."
"And made sure you didn't have someone else staying over." Nate looked over to the ocean, ashamed of the words, even if they hadn't come out as bitter as they were in his head.
"Obviously," Brad agreed. "Look, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Nate said, then, since that was obviously a lie, "I was surprised to see her. Surprised that she existed."
"Oh," Brad said, soft with realization. "We talked - we agreed. We live on opposite sides of the country, I'm an active duty marine, you were in my chain of command."
They had - talked and agreed. Though apparently they hadn't agreed on the same things Nate had thought they'd agreed on. "I understand. It was my mistake. I'm going to leave."
"Nate." Brad caught his arm, not tight enough to hold him if he tried to break away. He didn't, but he couldn't look at Brad. If that was all the hiding he was going to get, he'd take it. "Why didn't you say anything?"
The garage, the neighbor's fence, and incongruous tree on the corner of the yard combined to provide a small space where no-one could be well seen. Nate knew it well. He used Brad's hand on his arm for balance, pushed up until he could kiss Brad, show Brad everything he hadn't, before, everything he hadn't meant to agree to hide.
"That's why," he said when he pulled away, Brad's hand dropping from his arm.
Walk away and don't look back. Like he should have done when he left the marines.
John/Cam (Dysfunction verse)
Cam's not completely surprised when he opens the apartment door and the first thing he sees is John's duffel bag, packed and ready next to the combat boots he still wears. He might not know John as well as he'd like to, but he knows John that well.
"John?"
"I'm still here." John's voice is quiet, even allowing for how he's in another room. When Cam goes into the kitchen, John's sitting at the table, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his head up, looking right at Cam. Cam can't read him, at all.
"I take it not for much longer?" Cam moves out of the doorway and leans against the counter.
John shakes his head, looking down for a moment, then back up. "I'm not all right," he says, very clearly. "I don't think staying here will help."
Cam doesn't know if he means here in the apartment or here in Colorado Springs. It might not matter. "You can get help here," he says, unable to keep the note of pleading from his voice. "There are - the SGC can put you in touch with someone, or the Air Force, John, you're not the only one to -"
John's shaking his head as Cam trails away. It's unnerving, the way John keeps his eyes locked on Cam's; brave, too, because John doesn't like to talk, would surely have preferred to leave a note and vanish. "I can't stay here," he says. "It's just going to get worse - I'm going to get worse. I have to leave."
Cam wants to argue - has all of his arguments lined up, because there's a part of him that's been waiting for this. Instead, he says, "Will you come back?"
That's when John drops his gaze, focussing on his folded hands. "I don't know."
"Can you tell me where you're going?" Cam asks, then corrects himself to, "Will you tell me?"
"Dave's wife found me a place, near where they live. It's - I don't know if I'll stay. For a while."
"That's good." Cam doesn't manage to hide his relief. They talk around what they're both afraid of, but that doesn't mean they don't both know it's there, and it hasn't escaped Cam's notice that John's never corrected him.
John stands up, apparently done. "I can't promise anything," he says firmly.
"I know." Cam will promise anything John needs, except that what John needs is for him not to promise anything, not right now. "Can I - " He steps closer, then touches John's shoulder. John steps into the touch with a sigh that Cam feels against his own skin, right before they kiss.
There's nothing he can say, and apparently nothing John wants to say. Cam steps back, lets John move away, and listens for the apartment door to swing closed between them.
This entry was originally posted at http://bluflamingo.dreamwidth.org/183536.html, where it has
comments. I'd prefer comments there, but comments here are loved just as much
Generation Kill, Nate/Brad
"Oh," Nate said. The door was heavy against his hand - fire door, Brad had said, because you just never knew. "I should have knocked." Though the door had been ajar, and he'd meant to surprise Brad, as much as anyone could ever surprise Brad.
The look on Brad's face said he'd succeeded too well.
"I can..." The woman - she was pretty, brown hair, brown eyes, like Brad's ex-fiancée. "Maybe I should give you a minute. I'll go make some tea."
Irish accent, Nate realized. Like the British, tea in a crisis. Maybe that's where Brad had met her, though he'd never mentioned it.
"It's fine," he said. "Clearly this is a bad time, I should have called ahead. I should go."
"You can stay," Brad said. "You should stay. Have tea, Anna's got scones."
He was smiling, inviting Nate to share the joke, and Nate couldn't figure out if he meant it, or if he was covering. He didn't want to imagine what his own face looked like.
"This isn't a good time," he said again. Anna had taken a couple of steps back when Nate first spoke, but she was still in Brad's space, or Brad was in hers. She frowned. "I'll call you later."
He didn't bother hurrying down Brad's front path, knowing that Brad would follow, and catch him. He'd never been able to outrun Brad. "You should have let me know you were coming," Brad said, catching up to him in the shadow of the garage. "I could have picked you up."
"And made sure you didn't have someone else staying over." Nate looked over to the ocean, ashamed of the words, even if they hadn't come out as bitter as they were in his head.
"Obviously," Brad agreed. "Look, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Nate said, then, since that was obviously a lie, "I was surprised to see her. Surprised that she existed."
"Oh," Brad said, soft with realization. "We talked - we agreed. We live on opposite sides of the country, I'm an active duty marine, you were in my chain of command."
They had - talked and agreed. Though apparently they hadn't agreed on the same things Nate had thought they'd agreed on. "I understand. It was my mistake. I'm going to leave."
"Nate." Brad caught his arm, not tight enough to hold him if he tried to break away. He didn't, but he couldn't look at Brad. If that was all the hiding he was going to get, he'd take it. "Why didn't you say anything?"
The garage, the neighbor's fence, and incongruous tree on the corner of the yard combined to provide a small space where no-one could be well seen. Nate knew it well. He used Brad's hand on his arm for balance, pushed up until he could kiss Brad, show Brad everything he hadn't, before, everything he hadn't meant to agree to hide.
"That's why," he said when he pulled away, Brad's hand dropping from his arm.
Walk away and don't look back. Like he should have done when he left the marines.
John/Cam (Dysfunction verse)
Cam's not completely surprised when he opens the apartment door and the first thing he sees is John's duffel bag, packed and ready next to the combat boots he still wears. He might not know John as well as he'd like to, but he knows John that well.
"John?"
"I'm still here." John's voice is quiet, even allowing for how he's in another room. When Cam goes into the kitchen, John's sitting at the table, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his head up, looking right at Cam. Cam can't read him, at all.
"I take it not for much longer?" Cam moves out of the doorway and leans against the counter.
John shakes his head, looking down for a moment, then back up. "I'm not all right," he says, very clearly. "I don't think staying here will help."
Cam doesn't know if he means here in the apartment or here in Colorado Springs. It might not matter. "You can get help here," he says, unable to keep the note of pleading from his voice. "There are - the SGC can put you in touch with someone, or the Air Force, John, you're not the only one to -"
John's shaking his head as Cam trails away. It's unnerving, the way John keeps his eyes locked on Cam's; brave, too, because John doesn't like to talk, would surely have preferred to leave a note and vanish. "I can't stay here," he says. "It's just going to get worse - I'm going to get worse. I have to leave."
Cam wants to argue - has all of his arguments lined up, because there's a part of him that's been waiting for this. Instead, he says, "Will you come back?"
That's when John drops his gaze, focussing on his folded hands. "I don't know."
"Can you tell me where you're going?" Cam asks, then corrects himself to, "Will you tell me?"
"Dave's wife found me a place, near where they live. It's - I don't know if I'll stay. For a while."
"That's good." Cam doesn't manage to hide his relief. They talk around what they're both afraid of, but that doesn't mean they don't both know it's there, and it hasn't escaped Cam's notice that John's never corrected him.
John stands up, apparently done. "I can't promise anything," he says firmly.
"I know." Cam will promise anything John needs, except that what John needs is for him not to promise anything, not right now. "Can I - " He steps closer, then touches John's shoulder. John steps into the touch with a sigh that Cam feels against his own skin, right before they kiss.
There's nothing he can say, and apparently nothing John wants to say. Cam steps back, lets John move away, and listens for the apartment door to swing closed between them.
This entry was originally posted at http://bluflamingo.dreamwidth.org/183536.html, where it has
comments. I'd prefer comments there, but comments here are loved just as much