Colbert/Fick - wake up callsheveledDecember 20 2010, 00:59:02 UTC
Part of a College AU that exists without plot in my head where Ray and Nate are RAs who wind up roommates when asbestos is found in Nate's building. It works out well for everyone. Especially Brad.
Nate’s asleep. In the middle of the afternoon.
This is unprecedented.
Silently, Brad lowers his team bag next to Nate’s backpack, planning his execution. Before he can do anything, Nate makes a negative sound and says, without opening his eyes, “Too big.”
“Too easy,” Brad replies, and he sees Nate’s mouth curve before he chucks consideration and begins negotiating the sliver of mattress between Nate and the wall. Nate, the ideal to which this entire fucking misery of a species should aspire, shifts to the edge as much as he can.
They’re pretty good at figuring things out by this point.
“What’s up,” Brad says quietly into the space behind Nate’s ear. It sounds like a greeting, a side effect of spending too many years around Ray, but the offer’s there. He knows Nate’ll know.
Nate shakes his head into the pillow. “Late night.”
Doubtless in the un-fun way and probably also in the plural since Brad hasn’t been around to try to encourage otherwise. Goddamn away tourneys. He smoothes a palm down Nate’s shirt, back up against skin. He leaves his hand against Nate’s stomach, enjoying the warmth and the rhythm, Nate’s constancy.
“I’m delegating,” Brad says, nudging the bottom of his foot. “Ray’s on baby-sitting duty tonight.”
“I don’t think you can delegate responsibilities that aren’t yours.” Brad thinks he can do whatever the fuck it takes, but he’s saved voicing that by Nate continuing, “But since he agrees with you, and since apparently I’m a delicate fucking flower who will wither and perish without my beauty rest, whatever, fucking manage my life.”
It’s not a graceful concession, but Brad’ll take what he can get. He turns his head just enough that Nate won’t be able to feel his smile.
“Smug bastards,” Nate mutters.
Brad presses his hand more firmly. “Shhh. I’m trying to sleep.”
When he feels Nate’s silent laughter beneath his palm, he closes his eyes.
Re: Colbert/Fick - wake up calllickingbeadsDecember 20 2010, 09:39:50 UTC
and since apparently I’m a delicate fucking flower who will wither and perish without my beauty rest, whatever, fucking manage my life Oh, fuck. Priceless. :D Would love to see more of this.
Re: Colbert/Fick - wake up callsa_da_koDecember 20 2010, 22:50:05 UTC
Lovely :D Brad taking care of Nate is one of my favourites :D This looks really interesting as a part of bigger universe and I would love to read more of it :)
Nate’s asleep. In the middle of the afternoon.
This is unprecedented.
Silently, Brad lowers his team bag next to Nate’s backpack, planning his execution. Before he can do anything, Nate makes a negative sound and says, without opening his eyes, “Too big.”
“Too easy,” Brad replies, and he sees Nate’s mouth curve before he chucks consideration and begins negotiating the sliver of mattress between Nate and the wall. Nate, the ideal to which this entire fucking misery of a species should aspire, shifts to the edge as much as he can.
They’re pretty good at figuring things out by this point.
“What’s up,” Brad says quietly into the space behind Nate’s ear. It sounds like a greeting, a side effect of spending too many years around Ray, but the offer’s there. He knows Nate’ll know.
Nate shakes his head into the pillow. “Late night.”
Doubtless in the un-fun way and probably also in the plural since Brad hasn’t been around to try to encourage otherwise. Goddamn away tourneys. He smoothes a palm down Nate’s shirt, back up against skin. He leaves his hand against Nate’s stomach, enjoying the warmth and the rhythm, Nate’s constancy.
“I’m delegating,” Brad says, nudging the bottom of his foot. “Ray’s on baby-sitting duty tonight.”
“I don’t think you can delegate responsibilities that aren’t yours.” Brad thinks he can do whatever the fuck it takes, but he’s saved voicing that by Nate continuing, “But since he agrees with you, and since apparently I’m a delicate fucking flower who will wither and perish without my beauty rest, whatever, fucking manage my life.”
It’s not a graceful concession, but Brad’ll take what he can get. He turns his head just enough that Nate won’t be able to feel his smile.
“Smug bastards,” Nate mutters.
Brad presses his hand more firmly. “Shhh. I’m trying to sleep.”
When he feels Nate’s silent laughter beneath his palm, he closes his eyes.
It’s good to be home.
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Oh, fuck. Priceless. :D Would love to see more of this.
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Brad taking care of Nate is one of my favourites :D
This looks really interesting as a part of bigger universe and I would love to read more of it :)
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