It’s Strange to Miss Someone You Don’t Remember | Part 5
Title: It’s Strange to Miss Someone You Don’t Remember
Part: 5/??
Fandoms: Generation Kill
Pairings/Characters: (Brad/)Ray, Nate, Trombley, Garza
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,061 (Total : 8,535)
Warnings: Adult language, themes, and sexual content
Disclaimer: I do not own the show, or the fictional interpretations from which this is based. I’m just exercising my fangirl fantasies for a bit.
Summary: There’s a man in every picture that Brad doesn’t recognize. He sends letters, and Brad knows it’s his boyfriend, but he can’t connect. For some odd reason, Brad misses him, but he can’t love him. Not anymore. Not since the accident.
Author’s Notes: This is the real part 5. It's very Ray-Centric, about his correspondence with Brad. Happens around the same time as chapter 4. Enjoy.
“Corpral Person, you seem abnormally quiet,” Lt. Nate Fick noticed as the Humvee bounced up and down. “And content. You didn’t kill the CO or something when I had my back turned did you?”
Ray just grinned in the driver’s seat. “Of course not, LT. And that’s not for lack of trying… I am just in a good fucking mood today.”
Nate shifted uneasily in his seat. “Well, I don’t like it. What in the world could possibly make you that happy in this shithole?”
Ray took a few moments to respond. Part of him wanted to keep the contents of the letter he had just received that morning. It had been the third letter Brad had sent since they’d stepped off. In true Brad Colbert fashion, it didn’t involve anything sexual or overly romantic, Brad was probably just afraid he would die from the embarrassment of Ray showing it off to all the other Marines.
“Mail came this morning.”
“Ahhh,” Nate responded, turning back to watch out of his side window. “And what did Mr. Colbert have to say to the little missus?”
“Probably some really fucking gay shit like dicks and taking it up the ass,” James piped up from the back seat.
“I’ll have you know, Trombley,” Ray argued in defence, “that my Bradley is the gentleman. He never talks about dicks or of my taking his up the ass until after dinner. And if you recall, I got the letter this morning.”
“What does that matter? What if he wrote it after dinner?”
“It would go against his bourgeois sensibilities. Plus, sending dirty messages would give me too much gratification-“
“How could have possibly used all of those words correctly in that sentence?” Nate teased.
Trombley let out a loud chuckle, while Garza -up on the main gun - made some inaudible comment about Ray’s backwater upbringing.
“All of shut the fuck up. I know words. Might I remind you all that I sleep with a college student. Sometimes he even reads to me okay. Shut the fuck up Garza, not all of my friends are farm animals - I know how to speak English.”
No one in the vehicle could keep a straight face at that. The whole Humvee broke out in laughter.
“FUCKING JACKALS!” Ray tried to curse over their sounds.
The radio crackled, followed by a voice. “Hitman Two Actual, do you copy? This is Two-Two Actual.”
Ray repressed the urge to smack every man in the victor, to do his job. “Standby for Two Actual.”
He turned his mouth away from the radio. “Everyone shut the fuck up.” The vehicle silenced quickly in the face serious marine business. “Sir, it’s Two-Two Actual.”
Nate took the coms himself, as Ray continued to keep his eyes focused on the line of victors in front of him. He heard what the LT was discussing, only directions so Ray didn’t bother to try to listen more intently.
“We’ll be stopping in 5 clicks,” Nate finally announced, handing the coms back to Ray. “And we’ll be digging in for the night.”
“Hoorah, sir,” Ray responded, putting his hand back on the steering wheel. They’d been driving all day. They were hungry, and Ray was certain his ass had fallen asleep.
They passed several moments in silence, probably due to relief that soon they would be able to walk around and take a piss. For the second time that day, Nate broke the silence.
“So, Ray. That letter. If you’re wife isn’t sending you filthy messages, why are you so goddamn happy?”
Ray shrugged. “I miss him. It’s good to hear from him.”
“And what exactly have you heard?”
Ray grinned and chanced a quick glance over. “Well, sir, he says that he’s doing well. He’s starting surfing again in the mornings. He said he’s deferring his studies for a year. I hope we get sent home soon, so that I can take full advantage. He says he misses me, and that the first thing he’s going to do, when I return, is cook me real food. And lots of it. But we all know that is not going to be the first thing. Maybe the fourth, or the fifth.”
“Really corporal? I would have thought second.”
Ray shook his head and chuckled. “No sir. The first thing I am going to do is just hold on to him for as long as he’ll let me -“ he ignored Trombley’s scoff -“then, I’ll force him to make filthy, passionate love to me. After that of course, we’d have to shower - I’m not cleaning up would break some kind of fucking health code or something. And then he can make me real food.”
“You have your return very well thought out, don’t you Ray?” Nate asked with a smirk.
Most of the officers in their regiment were fucking retarded, and Ray had no respect for any of them. Nate however, beside from being the most competent officer he had ever met - possibly the most competent person he had ever met - he was genuinely a good man. And you could tell he cared about his men. It might have been against protocol for the Lieutenant to spend too much time around the enlisted men but times like this, in the Humvee with no one to reprimand him, it became really obvious.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left, sir,” Ray admitted, probably a little too cheerfully. “I’ve had so much time to organise it. I even have a scenario where we lie in bed and talk before we shower.”
“You’ve set aside time for that,” Trombley chuckled from his seat. “I would have thought you would have talked your way all though the other steps.”
“He has you there, Ray,” Nate with a grin that was almost sinful. No one should look that pleased with themselves.
“Shut up, both of you,” Ray snapped. “He likes it when I’m loud.”
Everyone in the victor groaned loudly.
“Too much information, Ray,” Garza called from the .40 cal.
“Yeah, Ray,” their platoon leader started, “you know that filter you claim to possess? That was probably a good time to use it.”
Ray could only grin in response. “But if I did that sir, you would expect it all the time.”
“Smug bastard,” he heard Trombley mutter from the back. And that only made him grin more brightly.