Fill: You Lie - B/N (R)
Title: You Lie
Pairings/Characters: Brad/Nate
Rating: R for domestic violence
Word Count: 852
Summary: For the prompt That's alright because I love the way you lie
Warnings: Domestic violence
Disclaimer: No disrespect intended. I make no profit from this. This is based off the HBO characters and those characters are the property of HBO.
Author's Notes: Originally posted HERE.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing… just, nothing.”
“Jesus Christ, Brad.” Nate ran his fingers through his hair and turned away.
Brad sighed and looked up with an apology written all over his face, but Nate was already gone.
~~~
The kitchen felt huge with no one else to fill the space. Brad had always told Nate that this kitchen was way too big. Brad pushed his dinner around and around on his plate with his fork. The other plate sat across the table, untouched. Brad glanced at his watch for what felt like the fiftieth time. Nate had been mad at him before, but this time felt different.
Brad was only on leave for another week and he didn’t want to spend that week fighting.
He might have fucked everything up, but he couldn’t fix it unless Nate came back.
~~~
The hall light flicked on and Brad sat up. He threw his legs over the edge of the couch and made his way to the hallway, not bothering with lights. He could make his way through his house blindfolded, anyway.
“You came home.” Brad said, crossing his arms over his chest. His hip was propped up against the wall.
“You mean I came back to your home.” Nate said flatly. Brad tried not to flinch at the words, but failed. Nate smirked when he noticed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but no sound came out. The strong scent of liquor wafted across the hall.
“Nate, I-”
“Save it, Brad.” Nate cut him off and tried to make his way down the hall. Brad stuck out his hand to stop him.
“Nate, I won’t be home much longer. I’m sorry for what I said before. Can’t we work this out now?” Brad made an effort to keep his voice pitched low and unassuming.
“You told me I should remember that this isn’t my house. You told me that just because I come visit you while you are on leave, doesn’t mean we’re in a fucking relationship. You told me that-”
“STOP. I said I was fucking sorry, I want to take it all back.” Brad’s voice was dangerously close to a yell. He crowded Nate against the wall, desperately searching for the words that could absolve him of the guilt of what he had done earlier.
“Don’t throw your fucking weight around.” Nate growled, not giving an inch. His lip was curled up in a sneer and Brad was seeing red. Why couldn’t Nate just fucking understand how difficult he was making this?
Brad lost control for a second, his fist connecting with the wall right next to Nate’s head.
Nate blinked in surprise but quickly regained his composure. Well, at least as much composure he could manage while drunk. He shoved Brad and escaped to the living room.
Brad stalked after him and swept his hand across the coffee table. Magazines, books and cups hit the floor.
“Get a grip on yourself.” Nate turned to shout at Brad.
Brad punched the coffee table as he tried to get closer, and glass went flying.
“Goddamnit.” Brad muttered as he looked at his cut knuckles.
“What did you think was going to happen if you did that?” Nate’s voice started to soften, but the sarcasm and anger were apparent.
“Fuck you.” Brad spat back. Nate took a running start and hit Brad right in the chest. They both went tumbling down. Brad hit the floor with a thud, Nate on top of him. Brad rolled and pinned Nate to the floor.
Nate gained some leverage and shoved his knee into Brad’s thigh. Brad’s face scrunched up in pain but his grip didn’t loosen.
Nate thunked his head back against the floor after he realized he was stuck.
“Quit lying to me, Brad. Quit lying to yourself.” Nate said. His eyes were piercing and intent. His voice was steady. It was confusing to Brad how Nate managed to be so sure, even in this moment.
“Who were you with tonight?” Brad asked, tightening his grip on Nate’s wrists.
“Myself, you asshole.” If it weren’t for the smell of Nate’s breath, Brad might have believed that Nate was being sincere.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Brad hoped he sounded as strong as Nate did. Maybe this would have been easier if Brad was drunk too.
“I hate you.” Nate bit out, unflinching. Brad was holding back tears.
“Take it back.” Brad spoke in a harsh whisper. He lifted Nate up just enough to slam him back into the floor.
“Take. It. BACK.” Brad yelled this time. At least Nate had the decency to look affronted.
They stared at each other, daring the other to back down. Brad’s grip relaxed but Nate’s face softened first.
“I didn’t mean it.” Nate offered an olive branch.
“I know.” Brad took it.
Brad sat up and helped Nate to his feet.
“Maybe we should, uh, clean those knuckles up.” Nate reached for Brad’s hand.
Brad’s body shook with a burst of laughter before he pulled Nate to him. Nate rubbed the tear from Brad’s cheek.
Pairings/Characters: Brad/Nate
Rating: R for domestic violence
Word Count: 852
Summary: For the prompt That's alright because I love the way you lie
Warnings: Domestic violence
Disclaimer: No disrespect intended. I make no profit from this. This is based off the HBO characters and those characters are the property of HBO.
Author's Notes: Originally posted HERE.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing… just, nothing.”
“Jesus Christ, Brad.” Nate ran his fingers through his hair and turned away.
Brad sighed and looked up with an apology written all over his face, but Nate was already gone.
~~~
The kitchen felt huge with no one else to fill the space. Brad had always told Nate that this kitchen was way too big. Brad pushed his dinner around and around on his plate with his fork. The other plate sat across the table, untouched. Brad glanced at his watch for what felt like the fiftieth time. Nate had been mad at him before, but this time felt different.
Brad was only on leave for another week and he didn’t want to spend that week fighting.
He might have fucked everything up, but he couldn’t fix it unless Nate came back.
~~~
The hall light flicked on and Brad sat up. He threw his legs over the edge of the couch and made his way to the hallway, not bothering with lights. He could make his way through his house blindfolded, anyway.
“You came home.” Brad said, crossing his arms over his chest. His hip was propped up against the wall.
“You mean I came back to your home.” Nate said flatly. Brad tried not to flinch at the words, but failed. Nate smirked when he noticed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but no sound came out. The strong scent of liquor wafted across the hall.
“Nate, I-”
“Save it, Brad.” Nate cut him off and tried to make his way down the hall. Brad stuck out his hand to stop him.
“Nate, I won’t be home much longer. I’m sorry for what I said before. Can’t we work this out now?” Brad made an effort to keep his voice pitched low and unassuming.
“You told me I should remember that this isn’t my house. You told me that just because I come visit you while you are on leave, doesn’t mean we’re in a fucking relationship. You told me that-”
“STOP. I said I was fucking sorry, I want to take it all back.” Brad’s voice was dangerously close to a yell. He crowded Nate against the wall, desperately searching for the words that could absolve him of the guilt of what he had done earlier.
“Don’t throw your fucking weight around.” Nate growled, not giving an inch. His lip was curled up in a sneer and Brad was seeing red. Why couldn’t Nate just fucking understand how difficult he was making this?
Brad lost control for a second, his fist connecting with the wall right next to Nate’s head.
Nate blinked in surprise but quickly regained his composure. Well, at least as much composure he could manage while drunk. He shoved Brad and escaped to the living room.
Brad stalked after him and swept his hand across the coffee table. Magazines, books and cups hit the floor.
“Get a grip on yourself.” Nate turned to shout at Brad.
Brad punched the coffee table as he tried to get closer, and glass went flying.
“Goddamnit.” Brad muttered as he looked at his cut knuckles.
“What did you think was going to happen if you did that?” Nate’s voice started to soften, but the sarcasm and anger were apparent.
“Fuck you.” Brad spat back. Nate took a running start and hit Brad right in the chest. They both went tumbling down. Brad hit the floor with a thud, Nate on top of him. Brad rolled and pinned Nate to the floor.
Nate gained some leverage and shoved his knee into Brad’s thigh. Brad’s face scrunched up in pain but his grip didn’t loosen.
Nate thunked his head back against the floor after he realized he was stuck.
“Quit lying to me, Brad. Quit lying to yourself.” Nate said. His eyes were piercing and intent. His voice was steady. It was confusing to Brad how Nate managed to be so sure, even in this moment.
“Who were you with tonight?” Brad asked, tightening his grip on Nate’s wrists.
“Myself, you asshole.” If it weren’t for the smell of Nate’s breath, Brad might have believed that Nate was being sincere.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Brad hoped he sounded as strong as Nate did. Maybe this would have been easier if Brad was drunk too.
“I hate you.” Nate bit out, unflinching. Brad was holding back tears.
“Take it back.” Brad spoke in a harsh whisper. He lifted Nate up just enough to slam him back into the floor.
“Take. It. BACK.” Brad yelled this time. At least Nate had the decency to look affronted.
They stared at each other, daring the other to back down. Brad’s grip relaxed but Nate’s face softened first.
“I didn’t mean it.” Nate offered an olive branch.
“I know.” Brad took it.
Brad sat up and helped Nate to his feet.
“Maybe we should, uh, clean those knuckles up.” Nate reached for Brad’s hand.
Brad’s body shook with a burst of laughter before he pulled Nate to him. Nate rubbed the tear from Brad’s cheek.