b/n, what you leave behind 2/2lickingbeadsDecember 19 2010, 18:43:44 UTC
#3 "Are you fucking out of your mind? Why the fuck would you even consider this? You're too smart for-"
"Don't you even fucking say it," Nate says, and he knows his voice is low and cold. "Don't you fucking even try to tell me I'm too smart for the Corps. You-You would-" The anger is choking him, the anger that Brad would dare-
He sees the fight flood out of Brad. "Okay, hey. Hey, I'm sorry. Come here." Brad tugs him close, pulls him into his chest. Brad is still three inches taller than him. Sometimes, Nate hates it.
Right about the time Tom Ricks gave them a lecture on the Marine Corps, Nate dropped the cycling team and started running, every morning before class. He filled in the papers before he told Brad. He didn't even know why at the time, but maybe, subconsciously, he expected exactly this.
"It's just," Brad starts, speaking against the top of Nate's head, "What will I do if-"
Nate feels the fury bubble up in him again, even as Brad's hushed voice goes straight into his chest and spine and gut and every other place where he feels Brad all the fucking time.
"Yeah?" He presses his mouth together, pushes away from Brad. "What will you do-what would I do, you fucking jerk?"
It makes one side of Brad's mouth twist upwards, a parody of amusement. "Yeah, I guess."
#4 "Far enough, sir."
The heavy trust in Brad's eyes in the middle of the biggest fucking clusterfuck Nate has ever had to wade through, let alone try and unravel, is better than a smile, better than a wink, better than a kiss, better than a fuck. Nate doesn't even know what he needs until Brad gives it to him, with a single look, no more, no less.
#5 In shocking breach of the Marine Corps S.O.P, Nate doesn't drink all that much at his paddle party. He doesn't feel the need to mark the occasion with excessive alcohol consumption; he isn't saying goodbye. Mike, Rudy, Pappy, Poke, Q-Tip and Christeson, Walt, even Ray-he can't see a life without them anymore. He doesn't want to.
He leaves after three in the morning, when only the most dedicated are still dedicated. Brad leaves with him, because it has been made very clear to Nate since he announced his plans to get out, that as far the guys are concerned, DADT is a punchline to a very outdated joke.
"I never told you," Nate says. They've driven to the beach instead of home. It feels appropriate. Nate wants to see the sunrise. "Every time you called me by my rank, it made me-well, it was a turn-on. Even in theater. Even when you were angry with me. Even when you used it as an insult."
"I know," Brad says. Grinning with half his mouth. The grin widening: "And what do you mean, was a turn-on?"
Nate groans, or laughs. Brad is solid and familiar next to him.
"What now?" He's not nervous, exactly. Maybe he feels a little bit afloat. The world seems too wide without his men at his six, three and nine.
Brad's face is serious but his eyes are warm when he says, "Anything, Nate. You can do anything you want."
The sun rises. It eats up all the colors; forces them to shade their eyes with their palms.
Re: b/n, what you leave behind 2/2idrilkaDecember 19 2010, 19:09:03 UTC
I really, really shouldn't be reading this right now, especially since I spent my afternoon writing Brad/Nate not-porn for the Good Cookies post instead of writing something I should have been writing, but then this came up in my email, and I read the first sentence, and then I couldn't stop myself...
And this was... wow. First, you broke my heart, and then you put it back together again. I love how you show so much with so little--how their relationship progressed throughout the years, how they struggled to get to the place in which they are now. That fragment in Iraq is incredible--again, so much said with so little words. And I absolutely love the ending.
And this: Nate is seventeen and he knows he will never meet anyone he loves more than Brad.
And he would never ask Brad not to go. This is the part that broke my heart. This is something that my Nate, the way I see him in my mind, would do. It hurt, in the best possible way.
Re: b/n, what you leave behind 2/2lickingbeadsDecember 19 2010, 19:16:14 UTC
Hahahahah first of all I just about LOST MY SHIT when I caught a typo--only the most dedicated are still dedicated--I meant, standing, or drinking, or something. Shit, sometimes I really hope I could edit my comments... XDD
Re: b/n, what you leave behind 2/2pabandykDecember 19 2010, 19:18:26 UTC
Thank you for writing this, it's absolutely lovely. I think Muse fits B/N relationship perfectly. I'm half tempted to write Brad and Nate according to Muse but I'm not sure my writing abilities extend that far.
You, one the other hand, have an amazing ability to pack punches with your words. Like this:
Nate feels the fury bubble up in him again, even as Brad's hushed voice goes straight into his chest and spine and gut and every other place where he feels Brad all the fucking time.
or this: He's not nervous, exactly. Maybe he feels a little bit afloat. The world seems too wide without his men at his six, three and nine.
Re: b/n, what you leave behind 2/2lickingbeadsDecember 19 2010, 19:39:14 UTC
Ty! Muse does hold plenty of potential for epic things, such as B/N. XD I'd say go ahead and write it--I for one have enjoyed everything of yours I've ever read. ♥
Re: b/n, what you leave behind 2/2bgalebDecember 19 2010, 23:31:55 UTC
Another lovely gem from you! It amazes me to no end how brilliant and lovely and real your stories are! How they always leave warm feelings in my heart!
"Are you fucking out of your mind? Why the fuck would you even consider this? You're too smart for-"
"Don't you even fucking say it," Nate says, and he knows his voice is low and cold. "Don't you fucking even try to tell me I'm too smart for the Corps. You-You would-" The anger is choking him, the anger that Brad would dare-
He sees the fight flood out of Brad. "Okay, hey. Hey, I'm sorry. Come here." Brad tugs him close, pulls him into his chest. Brad is still three inches taller than him. Sometimes, Nate hates it.
Right about the time Tom Ricks gave them a lecture on the Marine Corps, Nate dropped the cycling team and started running, every morning before class. He filled in the papers before he told Brad. He didn't even know why at the time, but maybe, subconsciously, he expected exactly this.
"It's just," Brad starts, speaking against the top of Nate's head, "What will I do if-"
Nate feels the fury bubble up in him again, even as Brad's hushed voice goes straight into his chest and spine and gut and every other place where he feels Brad all the fucking time.
"Yeah?" He presses his mouth together, pushes away from Brad. "What will you do-what would I do, you fucking jerk?"
It makes one side of Brad's mouth twist upwards, a parody of amusement. "Yeah, I guess."
#4
"Far enough, sir."
The heavy trust in Brad's eyes in the middle of the biggest fucking clusterfuck Nate has ever had to wade through, let alone try and unravel, is better than a smile, better than a wink, better than a kiss, better than a fuck. Nate doesn't even know what he needs until Brad gives it to him, with a single look, no more, no less.
#5
In shocking breach of the Marine Corps S.O.P, Nate doesn't drink all that much at his paddle party. He doesn't feel the need to mark the occasion with excessive alcohol consumption; he isn't saying goodbye. Mike, Rudy, Pappy, Poke, Q-Tip and Christeson, Walt, even Ray-he can't see a life without them anymore. He doesn't want to.
He leaves after three in the morning, when only the most dedicated are still dedicated. Brad leaves with him, because it has been made very clear to Nate since he announced his plans to get out, that as far the guys are concerned, DADT is a punchline to a very outdated joke.
"I never told you," Nate says. They've driven to the beach instead of home. It feels appropriate. Nate wants to see the sunrise. "Every time you called me by my rank, it made me-well, it was a turn-on. Even in theater. Even when you were angry with me. Even when you used it as an insult."
"I know," Brad says. Grinning with half his mouth. The grin widening: "And what do you mean, was a turn-on?"
Nate groans, or laughs. Brad is solid and familiar next to him.
"What now?" He's not nervous, exactly. Maybe he feels a little bit afloat. The world seems too wide without his men at his six, three and nine.
Brad's face is serious but his eyes are warm when he says, "Anything, Nate. You can do anything you want."
The sun rises. It eats up all the colors; forces them to shade their eyes with their palms.
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Do write your crack, please, it's always good for one's day. I certainly need some pick-me-up after listening to Coldplay for hours on end. D:
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And this was... wow. First, you broke my heart, and then you put it back together again. I love how you show so much with so little--how their relationship progressed throughout the years, how they struggled to get to the place in which they are now. That fragment in Iraq is incredible--again, so much said with so little words. And I absolutely love the ending.
And this:
Nate is seventeen and he knows he will never meet anyone he loves more than Brad.
And he would never ask Brad not to go.
This is the part that broke my heart. This is something that my Nate, the way I see him in my mind, would do. It hurt, in the best possible way.
Brilliant.
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That aside; so glad you liked it, bb.
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I think Muse fits B/N relationship perfectly. I'm half tempted to write Brad and Nate according to Muse but I'm not sure my writing abilities extend that far.
You, one the other hand, have an amazing ability to pack punches with your words. Like this:
Nate feels the fury bubble up in him again, even as Brad's hushed voice goes straight into his chest and spine and gut and every other place where he feels Brad all the fucking time.
or this:
He's not nervous, exactly. Maybe he feels a little bit afloat. The world seems too wide without his men at his six, three and nine.
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Break my heart some more, why don't you?
This was lovely.
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