GK fic: Two Men and a Dog
Fandom: Generation Kill
Title: Two Men and a Dog
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1320
Summary: Nate finds a stray dog and brings him home.
Disclaimer: Based on fictionalised portrayals as seen in the HBO miniseries and not the real people.
Notes: Many thanks to idrilka for beta-reading and for putting up with my whining. And to lunatics-word, who said “post it”, so it’s her fault so I did.
The dog is looking at Nate with pleading eyes. That’s the first thing Brad sees when he enters their shared apartment and he finds it hilarious. He never thought somebody (or something, for that matter) could rival Nate when it came to puppy eyes and all that shit, but the dog seems to be doing just fine.
“Hi,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “What’s this?”
“This,” answers Nate, not breaking his staring contest, “is a dog.”
“I can see that. What I meant was what exactly is it doing here?”
“Attempting to eat my dinner, apparently,” deadpans Nate. He’s holding a piece of bacon in an outstretched hand over his head. The dog rests his paws on Nate’s shoulders but still can’t reach the treat.
“Nate,” says Brad, exasperated. “I mean it.”
Nate sighs and lowers his arm. The dog seizes the opportunity to grab the meal and run to the corner. Brad could swear the animal looks smug.
“He’s a stray, I brought him in. He’s been following me here all the way from the campus. I thought we could keep him for a while, maybe put an ad in the newspaper, see if anybody is looking for him. What do you think?”
Brad resists the urge to groan and rubs his forehead. He wants to say nobody gives a fuck about this dog - it’s pretty obvious he’s been living on the streets for some time already, he’s dirty, emaciated and missing one ear - but he sees the look Nate gives him and he just can’t say no, because no one in their right mind could do that.
“You really don’t want to be in his skin if he pisses on my couch or does something equally gross.”
Nate smiles then and he looks so happy and so beautiful, that Brad wants to kiss him, right now, but he doesn’t, because one can’t just go around kissing his roommates, even if they are so fucking perfect in every way. Instead, he nods curtly and disappears in his room.
The dog stays.
“I still haven’t got any reply to the ad,” Nate informs him after a week. He looks like he’s trying to seem disappointed, but his acting skills fail him. “Do you mind if we keep him for a few days more? I know you don’t like him very much…”
Brad looks at the dog, who - after a few days of solid meals and thankfully regular baths - actually starts to resemble a living animal and not some sort of a walking skeleton. Then he notices the way Nate reaches out to stroke his head tenderly and his fingers linger on the soft, black fur. Nate likes the dog.
“I suppose I could suffer his presence for another week or so.”
Nate looks up at him with that soft smile and says, “Thank you.”
The week after that, there still hasn’t been any reply. Nate puts an ad in another newspaper. When another week passes, he doesn’t bring the subject up again and Brad pretends not to notice.
Brad is lying in his bed when he feels something settling on his chest. It’s heavy, suffocating and… fluffy? He jerks awake and finds his nose full of dog’s hair. He’s also pretty sure the lousy mongrel is salivating on his pillow. He pushes him down to the floor unceremoniously.
“Go away,” he mumbles, still half-asleep.
The dog barks softly and jumps up onto his bed again, only to settle near his feet this time.
“No. Get off. Why don’t you go pester Nate instead?”
The dog doesn’t answer and Brad falls asleep again.
Brad glares at the dog, who seems rather comfortable lying on the work desk. Weren’t dogs supposed to actually stay on the ground and not climb the furniture?
“You. Get down from there, right now. You hear me? I swear, one day I’m going to throttle you.”
“Brad!” Nate gasps, standing in the doorway. “Did I hear that right? Are you threatening my dog?”
“That’s not a dog, that’s some fucking monster. And I’m not going to be responsible for my actions if he messes up my work, so I advise you to take him somewhere else before I lose my patience.”
Nate pats his thigh.
“Come here, Schrodinger. Come, good dog!” he exclaims when the dog hops down from the desk and stands by his leg.
Brad looks at him and asks, “Schrodinger? Really?”
Nate huffs a laugh.
“I couldn’t think of anything and he has to be called something, doesn’t he?”
“Absolutely. Does that mean I can lock him in a cage with some radioactive stuff and poison inside?” Brad asks seriously. Nate gives him a dark look and actually stomps out the room with the dog trailing behind him. Brad thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
The dog seems to have decided that Brad’s bed - and Brad himself - would make for a great pillow. Now he sleeps there practically every night, despite the man’s protests.
“No. Get off me right now.”
Sadly, the pleading eyes have no effect on Brad whatsoever (Nate still can do it better), so Schrodinger ends up on the floor every time.
They’re watching tv together - Brad, Nate and the dog - and drinking beer. That is, Brad and Nate are drinking, the dog still doesn’t display enough human qualities to do that (although Brad thinks sometimes he’s like Ray personified - animalified - whatever, loud and annoying as hell. And perhaps he had too much beer already, if he’s contemplating stuff like that). They’re in the middle of a Criminal Minds episode, but Brad isn’t really paying attention, he’s pleasantly distracted by the feel of Nate’s head against his arm. They ended up, well, not snuggled, because Brad doesn’t do snuggling, but perhaps a bit more pressed against each other than was appropriate, as the show was progressing and more alcohol was consumed.
“Pass me the bottle, will you?” asks Nate. He looks so relaxed, and as far as Brad is concerned, he deserved to have this time for himself now, after all the nerve-wracking end of the semester exams.
“Sure,” he replies, reaching for the beer on the coffee table. Nate takes a swig and Brad can’t help but look at the way his lips wrap around the bottle. It’s so sensual yet exciting at the same time that he has to close his eyes for a moment, but that certainly doesn’t help to stop the mental images coming to his head. He steals a glance at Nate - he is observing him through half-lidded eyes and Brad’s stomach does a little flip, and he doesn’t really think right in this moment, just reaches out to touch Nate’s smooth cheek, then trails his fingers down to his mouth. It feels so good and he wants nothing more than to burrow his hand in Nate’s hair and kiss him, long and hard, but he can’t - he’s not that drunk and he won’t do anything they will regret come morning. He tries to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words are stuck in his throat.
“Brad.” He hears Nate whisper. „Brad, it’s okay.”
And then Nate is kissing him, and Brad stops thinking altogether. They break apart when the need for air becomes too much and rest their foreheads against each other, breathing hard.
“Brad.” Nate is looking at him with certainty in his eyes. “You know this is not just for tonight, right? I’m not letting you go.”
Brad believes him, because Nate is just like that - he doesn’t resign easily once he set his mind to something.
“I know.”
This time, when Brad wakes up in the middle of the night with his face full of black fur, he contemplates pushing the dog to the floor but eventually decides against it and just shoves him in Nate’s direction.
-end-
Title: Two Men and a Dog
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1320
Summary: Nate finds a stray dog and brings him home.
Disclaimer: Based on fictionalised portrayals as seen in the HBO miniseries and not the real people.
Notes: Many thanks to idrilka for beta-reading and for putting up with my whining. And to lunatics-word, who said “post it”, so it’s her fault so I did.
The dog is looking at Nate with pleading eyes. That’s the first thing Brad sees when he enters their shared apartment and he finds it hilarious. He never thought somebody (or something, for that matter) could rival Nate when it came to puppy eyes and all that shit, but the dog seems to be doing just fine.
“Hi,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “What’s this?”
“This,” answers Nate, not breaking his staring contest, “is a dog.”
“I can see that. What I meant was what exactly is it doing here?”
“Attempting to eat my dinner, apparently,” deadpans Nate. He’s holding a piece of bacon in an outstretched hand over his head. The dog rests his paws on Nate’s shoulders but still can’t reach the treat.
“Nate,” says Brad, exasperated. “I mean it.”
Nate sighs and lowers his arm. The dog seizes the opportunity to grab the meal and run to the corner. Brad could swear the animal looks smug.
“He’s a stray, I brought him in. He’s been following me here all the way from the campus. I thought we could keep him for a while, maybe put an ad in the newspaper, see if anybody is looking for him. What do you think?”
Brad resists the urge to groan and rubs his forehead. He wants to say nobody gives a fuck about this dog - it’s pretty obvious he’s been living on the streets for some time already, he’s dirty, emaciated and missing one ear - but he sees the look Nate gives him and he just can’t say no, because no one in their right mind could do that.
“You really don’t want to be in his skin if he pisses on my couch or does something equally gross.”
Nate smiles then and he looks so happy and so beautiful, that Brad wants to kiss him, right now, but he doesn’t, because one can’t just go around kissing his roommates, even if they are so fucking perfect in every way. Instead, he nods curtly and disappears in his room.
The dog stays.
“I still haven’t got any reply to the ad,” Nate informs him after a week. He looks like he’s trying to seem disappointed, but his acting skills fail him. “Do you mind if we keep him for a few days more? I know you don’t like him very much…”
Brad looks at the dog, who - after a few days of solid meals and thankfully regular baths - actually starts to resemble a living animal and not some sort of a walking skeleton. Then he notices the way Nate reaches out to stroke his head tenderly and his fingers linger on the soft, black fur. Nate likes the dog.
“I suppose I could suffer his presence for another week or so.”
Nate looks up at him with that soft smile and says, “Thank you.”
The week after that, there still hasn’t been any reply. Nate puts an ad in another newspaper. When another week passes, he doesn’t bring the subject up again and Brad pretends not to notice.
Brad is lying in his bed when he feels something settling on his chest. It’s heavy, suffocating and… fluffy? He jerks awake and finds his nose full of dog’s hair. He’s also pretty sure the lousy mongrel is salivating on his pillow. He pushes him down to the floor unceremoniously.
“Go away,” he mumbles, still half-asleep.
The dog barks softly and jumps up onto his bed again, only to settle near his feet this time.
“No. Get off. Why don’t you go pester Nate instead?”
The dog doesn’t answer and Brad falls asleep again.
Brad glares at the dog, who seems rather comfortable lying on the work desk. Weren’t dogs supposed to actually stay on the ground and not climb the furniture?
“You. Get down from there, right now. You hear me? I swear, one day I’m going to throttle you.”
“Brad!” Nate gasps, standing in the doorway. “Did I hear that right? Are you threatening my dog?”
“That’s not a dog, that’s some fucking monster. And I’m not going to be responsible for my actions if he messes up my work, so I advise you to take him somewhere else before I lose my patience.”
Nate pats his thigh.
“Come here, Schrodinger. Come, good dog!” he exclaims when the dog hops down from the desk and stands by his leg.
Brad looks at him and asks, “Schrodinger? Really?”
Nate huffs a laugh.
“I couldn’t think of anything and he has to be called something, doesn’t he?”
“Absolutely. Does that mean I can lock him in a cage with some radioactive stuff and poison inside?” Brad asks seriously. Nate gives him a dark look and actually stomps out the room with the dog trailing behind him. Brad thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
The dog seems to have decided that Brad’s bed - and Brad himself - would make for a great pillow. Now he sleeps there practically every night, despite the man’s protests.
“No. Get off me right now.”
Sadly, the pleading eyes have no effect on Brad whatsoever (Nate still can do it better), so Schrodinger ends up on the floor every time.
They’re watching tv together - Brad, Nate and the dog - and drinking beer. That is, Brad and Nate are drinking, the dog still doesn’t display enough human qualities to do that (although Brad thinks sometimes he’s like Ray personified - animalified - whatever, loud and annoying as hell. And perhaps he had too much beer already, if he’s contemplating stuff like that). They’re in the middle of a Criminal Minds episode, but Brad isn’t really paying attention, he’s pleasantly distracted by the feel of Nate’s head against his arm. They ended up, well, not snuggled, because Brad doesn’t do snuggling, but perhaps a bit more pressed against each other than was appropriate, as the show was progressing and more alcohol was consumed.
“Pass me the bottle, will you?” asks Nate. He looks so relaxed, and as far as Brad is concerned, he deserved to have this time for himself now, after all the nerve-wracking end of the semester exams.
“Sure,” he replies, reaching for the beer on the coffee table. Nate takes a swig and Brad can’t help but look at the way his lips wrap around the bottle. It’s so sensual yet exciting at the same time that he has to close his eyes for a moment, but that certainly doesn’t help to stop the mental images coming to his head. He steals a glance at Nate - he is observing him through half-lidded eyes and Brad’s stomach does a little flip, and he doesn’t really think right in this moment, just reaches out to touch Nate’s smooth cheek, then trails his fingers down to his mouth. It feels so good and he wants nothing more than to burrow his hand in Nate’s hair and kiss him, long and hard, but he can’t - he’s not that drunk and he won’t do anything they will regret come morning. He tries to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words are stuck in his throat.
“Brad.” He hears Nate whisper. „Brad, it’s okay.”
And then Nate is kissing him, and Brad stops thinking altogether. They break apart when the need for air becomes too much and rest their foreheads against each other, breathing hard.
“Brad.” Nate is looking at him with certainty in his eyes. “You know this is not just for tonight, right? I’m not letting you go.”
Brad believes him, because Nate is just like that - he doesn’t resign easily once he set his mind to something.
“I know.”
This time, when Brad wakes up in the middle of the night with his face full of black fur, he contemplates pushing the dog to the floor but eventually decides against it and just shoves him in Nate’s direction.
-end-