Centaurian Slug Sake | Generation Kill | PG-13
Title: Centaurian Slug Sake
Series: Generation Kill AU
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~970
Summary: Captain Fick gets drunk, for the first time, in front of his First Officer, Commander Colbert. A Trek/GK mash-up.
A/N: Fill for the au_bingo prompt, space stations/ships.
“I am def’nitely def’nitely not drunk,” Nate said with his eyebrows raised, his posture slouched towards his First Officer. “I only had one drink. One.”
Anyway, this was their third shore leave, and the first time Nate had actually allowed himself out onto the space station at which they were planted. In the outer rim of the documented galaxy, the action here was fast and loose. In fact, had it not been for Nate’s communications officer’s assurances, he would’ve assumed this was a station run by sky pirates.
Commander Colbert’s attention flicked down to the shot glass at Nate’s elbow. “Hate to break it to you, Captain, but that was triple distilled Centaurian Slug Sake. Couple shots of that could knock a Vulcan flat on their ass.”
Nate blinked slowly. “Well.”
“I did try and warn you, sir.” Colbert’s eyes sparked beneath the neon lights, casting an alien glow upon them before he looked to the dance floor with a curve to his lips. “Although, I’d say, serves you right for taking a free drink from Person, of all misguided assholes.”
Nate felt his cheeks burn as he ducked his head, his mouth tugging at the corners. At least, he assumed he was smiling. His face was going rather numb. “Got me there.”
“The one time you decide to drink,” Colbert said with that calm, unassuming drawl of his, “and you royally fuck it up. Sir.” Now he was right-out grinning as he slid a lingering glance Nate’s way.
“Hey,” Nate said with a furrowed brow. He wavered in his seat, Colbert’s white flash of teeth going streaky, like warp speed, before he dropped a hand to his First’s thigh for balance and looked up with what definitely wasn’t a pout. Definitely wasn’t. “That’s no way to speak to your Captain. Someone’s gonna hear about this. Somewhere.”
“Yeah?” Colbert cocked his head, subtle amusement glowing from every feature. “Maybe even the Captain will hear about this tomorrow. If he remembers to make a log of it tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll be logging,” Nate said with a quick nod, which turned into several nods, which turned into him blinking hard against the sudden swirl in his vision.
Another glimpse of that endearing overbite smile, before it was gone and Colbert was staring intently at Nate. “Can I make a wild guess, Captain?”
Nate scrunched his nose. “Call me Nate. We’re on shore leave and even I can vouch for my severe lack of captainly qualities at this juncture.”
Colbert wet his lips, pink tongue and thumping music surrounding them like a heartbeat’s rapid tattoo. “Nate.”
Nate swallowed and wished he had another shot of that awful alcohol, even if just to give him something to do with his hands. Which - oh, he was still gripping Colbert’s knee for leverage. Couldn’t seem to let go, either.
“Yes,” Nate said thickly, tripping over his tongue, even as he attempted to look composed. “Uh, Brad.”
“May I hypothesise that the reason I’ve never seen you accept a drink on shore leave is because you’re a complete -” Brad leaned in, his bright stare fixed on Nate, “and utter -” the low hum of his voice dropped down, “lightweight?”
Nate’s eyes widened slightly, before he broke out in a quick, breathy laugh and turned away towards the bar. He propped both elbows on the glass top, one hand aching from the loss of Brad’s warm thigh, and signalled the bartender.
“Oh no,” Brad said at his ear, breath damp and smelling strongly of whiskey. “As your First Officer and friend, I’m going to have to tell you to put down the shot glass and back away.”
When Nate turned his head, he found himself nearly mouth to mouth with Brad. Nate sucked in a breath and offered a lopsided smile. “Actually, I was ordering a shitty shot for you.”
Brad blinked, lashes lowing as his gaze flitted down, then returned to Nate’s eyes. “I see,” he said with a rasp. “You’ve got a plan.”
“Me?” Nate did his best impression of neutrality.
“Trying to bullshit me, sir?” Brad said mildly, but the curl to his lips told a different story. “You’d like to get me as equally smashed as you and, if you’re lucky, I won’t remember tonight either.”
Nate pursed his lips, and didn’t have the heart to regret it when their noses nearly brushed with the slight sway of his body. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
“I think it does.” Brad’s expression shifted to something unfamiliar, unreadable, even after serving seven months together. “Either way, I won’t be forgetting tonight any time soon.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Nate said, “Why,” before he had the chance not to.
Brad peered down again, and this time it was unmistakable. Nate’s lips hummed with anticipation as he -
“Dudes, what the fuck you doin’ over here?” Lieutenant Person said as he popped up practically between them. “This is not the time for pow-wows or whatever the fuck you’ve got going down. There are Orions, man. Like, lady ones, practically naked ones, all ass and tits on the dancefloor and you’re what - discussing strategies or some useless bullshit. It’s shore leave, Captain! What the hell are you doing hanging out with this Betazoid-fucking, boring-as-Gorn-shit who never lifts a fucking foot to dance when you could be out there with Orions? Or, better yet, me?”
Nate aimed a baleful glance Brad’s way and found the look returned. With a faint sigh, Nate rallied for some inch of sobriety and self-respect as he slid from his stool and stood.
“Alright, Lieutenant, you’ve got me. We’ll have fun your way.”
“But,” Brad said, also getting to his feet. His fingertips brushed Nate’s, their shoulders just touching as he faced Person. “Let it be known that the Captain’s only doing it because we all know you basically roofied him with that slug shit.”
“Yeah,” Person said with a toothy grin, “You can thank me later.”
Nate realised he was smiling like an idiot, the brunt of his weight leaning into Brad, and imagined that he actually might thank Person for this.
If he remembered it tomorrow. Nate was beginning to hope that he would.
Series: Generation Kill AU
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~970
Summary: Captain Fick gets drunk, for the first time, in front of his First Officer, Commander Colbert. A Trek/GK mash-up.
A/N: Fill for the au_bingo prompt, space stations/ships.
“I am def’nitely def’nitely not drunk,” Nate said with his eyebrows raised, his posture slouched towards his First Officer. “I only had one drink. One.”
Anyway, this was their third shore leave, and the first time Nate had actually allowed himself out onto the space station at which they were planted. In the outer rim of the documented galaxy, the action here was fast and loose. In fact, had it not been for Nate’s communications officer’s assurances, he would’ve assumed this was a station run by sky pirates.
Commander Colbert’s attention flicked down to the shot glass at Nate’s elbow. “Hate to break it to you, Captain, but that was triple distilled Centaurian Slug Sake. Couple shots of that could knock a Vulcan flat on their ass.”
Nate blinked slowly. “Well.”
“I did try and warn you, sir.” Colbert’s eyes sparked beneath the neon lights, casting an alien glow upon them before he looked to the dance floor with a curve to his lips. “Although, I’d say, serves you right for taking a free drink from Person, of all misguided assholes.”
Nate felt his cheeks burn as he ducked his head, his mouth tugging at the corners. At least, he assumed he was smiling. His face was going rather numb. “Got me there.”
“The one time you decide to drink,” Colbert said with that calm, unassuming drawl of his, “and you royally fuck it up. Sir.” Now he was right-out grinning as he slid a lingering glance Nate’s way.
“Hey,” Nate said with a furrowed brow. He wavered in his seat, Colbert’s white flash of teeth going streaky, like warp speed, before he dropped a hand to his First’s thigh for balance and looked up with what definitely wasn’t a pout. Definitely wasn’t. “That’s no way to speak to your Captain. Someone’s gonna hear about this. Somewhere.”
“Yeah?” Colbert cocked his head, subtle amusement glowing from every feature. “Maybe even the Captain will hear about this tomorrow. If he remembers to make a log of it tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll be logging,” Nate said with a quick nod, which turned into several nods, which turned into him blinking hard against the sudden swirl in his vision.
Another glimpse of that endearing overbite smile, before it was gone and Colbert was staring intently at Nate. “Can I make a wild guess, Captain?”
Nate scrunched his nose. “Call me Nate. We’re on shore leave and even I can vouch for my severe lack of captainly qualities at this juncture.”
Colbert wet his lips, pink tongue and thumping music surrounding them like a heartbeat’s rapid tattoo. “Nate.”
Nate swallowed and wished he had another shot of that awful alcohol, even if just to give him something to do with his hands. Which - oh, he was still gripping Colbert’s knee for leverage. Couldn’t seem to let go, either.
“Yes,” Nate said thickly, tripping over his tongue, even as he attempted to look composed. “Uh, Brad.”
“May I hypothesise that the reason I’ve never seen you accept a drink on shore leave is because you’re a complete -” Brad leaned in, his bright stare fixed on Nate, “and utter -” the low hum of his voice dropped down, “lightweight?”
Nate’s eyes widened slightly, before he broke out in a quick, breathy laugh and turned away towards the bar. He propped both elbows on the glass top, one hand aching from the loss of Brad’s warm thigh, and signalled the bartender.
“Oh no,” Brad said at his ear, breath damp and smelling strongly of whiskey. “As your First Officer and friend, I’m going to have to tell you to put down the shot glass and back away.”
When Nate turned his head, he found himself nearly mouth to mouth with Brad. Nate sucked in a breath and offered a lopsided smile. “Actually, I was ordering a shitty shot for you.”
Brad blinked, lashes lowing as his gaze flitted down, then returned to Nate’s eyes. “I see,” he said with a rasp. “You’ve got a plan.”
“Me?” Nate did his best impression of neutrality.
“Trying to bullshit me, sir?” Brad said mildly, but the curl to his lips told a different story. “You’d like to get me as equally smashed as you and, if you’re lucky, I won’t remember tonight either.”
Nate pursed his lips, and didn’t have the heart to regret it when their noses nearly brushed with the slight sway of his body. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
“I think it does.” Brad’s expression shifted to something unfamiliar, unreadable, even after serving seven months together. “Either way, I won’t be forgetting tonight any time soon.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Nate said, “Why,” before he had the chance not to.
Brad peered down again, and this time it was unmistakable. Nate’s lips hummed with anticipation as he -
“Dudes, what the fuck you doin’ over here?” Lieutenant Person said as he popped up practically between them. “This is not the time for pow-wows or whatever the fuck you’ve got going down. There are Orions, man. Like, lady ones, practically naked ones, all ass and tits on the dancefloor and you’re what - discussing strategies or some useless bullshit. It’s shore leave, Captain! What the hell are you doing hanging out with this Betazoid-fucking, boring-as-Gorn-shit who never lifts a fucking foot to dance when you could be out there with Orions? Or, better yet, me?”
Nate aimed a baleful glance Brad’s way and found the look returned. With a faint sigh, Nate rallied for some inch of sobriety and self-respect as he slid from his stool and stood.
“Alright, Lieutenant, you’ve got me. We’ll have fun your way.”
“But,” Brad said, also getting to his feet. His fingertips brushed Nate’s, their shoulders just touching as he faced Person. “Let it be known that the Captain’s only doing it because we all know you basically roofied him with that slug shit.”
“Yeah,” Person said with a toothy grin, “You can thank me later.”
Nate realised he was smiling like an idiot, the brunt of his weight leaning into Brad, and imagined that he actually might thank Person for this.
If he remembered it tomorrow. Nate was beginning to hope that he would.