fic: toasting to the plans we made
toasting to the plans we made
Generation Kill; girl!Nate/girl!Walt; nc-17; 1,155 words
Nat, celebrating her graduation, drinks way more than she should and ends up flirting really obviously with Willa.
This is not what I was supposed to write today, and I still don't understand how it happened. For jones6.
~*~
Bravo Two has a reunion every so often, with Rae threatening a personal visit to the house of everyone who doesn't show up, barring deployment, so the gatherings are usually pretty well-attended. Instead of a barbecue at Michaela or Poke's house, though, it's at some bar Bridget picks out.
Nat, celebrating her graduation, drinks way more than she should and ends up flirting really obviously with Willa. Also more than she should. But Trombley's not there, so her secret's safe. Wynn keeps giving her that look that's half 'is that really the smartest choice, LT?' and half 'don't fuck this up'; Bridget just looks amused; and Rae's on this never-ending drunken rant and doesn't even notice. And it's not like Willa doesn't flirt back, sweeping her fingers across Nat's arm, hair, cheek before kissing the salt from the margarita off Nat's mouth.
When they leave, the whole thing's gone to hell: Bridget's getting felt up by Person; Pappy's whispering something into Ruby's ear that makes her laugh, throaty and rich; and Garza's resting her head on Chaffin's shoulder, eyes half-closed. Willa calls a cab, and they sit on the cold pavement waiting for it, leaning against each other.
They only do this sometimes, because they live on opposite sides of the country, because Nat's too busy for a relationship, because Willa has an on-and-off boyfriend. It took Nat a long time be okay with fucking someone under her command, but she doesn't feel guilty about it anymore, and that's what counts. What counts is that it didn't happen in Iraq: not after the roadblock; not at all while they were in theatre. That would've been dumber than anything Schwetje could've dreamed up.
It's not casual sex, because Nat hates picking up some quick fuck at a bar; they're friends with benefits, and they're both okay with it. Rae always gives Willa shit about it, but right now, Rae's probably in the bathroom with both hands up Bridget's shirt, so it doesn't matter.
In the cab, Willa eases her hand up Nat's thigh, slow slide under the material of her skirt all the way to her underwear. Nat bites back a moan as Willa kisses her neck soft and sweet, just the way she likes it. The cabbie steals a glance at them via the mirror, and Nat sees his lips quirk into a smile just before Willa bites her a little and her eyes drift closed. "Stop," Nat mouths, and Willa pulls away, but keeps her hand where it is.
Nat pays the cabbie (with a generous tip to make up for their behavior) while Willa unlocks the door. She leads Nat inside and up three flights of stairs to the familiar apartment she sometimes shares with her sometimes-boyfriend, but it's empty except for them, and dark. Willa offers Nat a drink, but they end up sharing it, passing the beer bottle back and forth between them, lip gloss smudging along the rim.
The pleasant buzz she got at the bar intensifies, like there are sparks in her veins, sparks that get hotter when Willa kisses her again, tongue warm and slick as it explores Nat's mouth. She pushes Nat down onto the couch cushions; Nat's skirt flips up with the sudden movement, and Willa just pulls it off, hands running down the length of Nat's bare legs, making Nat shiver with anticipation.
"C'mon," Nat says. "Don't hold out on me." She looks down, meeting Willa's gaze. "C'mon, I want you." Willa swallows, and Nat bites at her lips while getting undressed; she's always been a little insecure about her body, and Willa's staring at her-eyes full of hunger and want, but still. "You gonna just sit there and watch?" It's not until her hand's between her legs that Willa moves, quickly getting rid of her own clothes before straddling Nat, skin warm and sticky with sweat. She cups Nat's breast, rolling the nipple between her callused fingers, while Nat rolls her hips up, trying for some friction.
"Be patient," Willa says, but contradicts the statement when she kisses her way down Nat's stomach and thumbs over her clit, watching the way Nat reacts. "God, you look..." she starts, but trails off when Nat's finger slips into her mouth, warm and wet and not exactly where Nat wants it to be.
"Seriously," Nat says. "I leave for D.C. in a week. Stop fucking around and fuck me." She's not smiling anymore, and Willa gets it, putting her mouth and fingers just where Nat wants them. Her tongue is pink and talented, so sinful it should be illegal, and she takes Nat apart like she's disassembling a weapon. Nat's body arches and tenses, trying to hold onto the feeling as long as she can, but then she's coming, too fast, but good. It feels like someone called in a danger close on her nerves, and she knows that sounds fucked up, but it's not, it's just really fucking good, and her whole body is too hot and her skin's too tight and she's coming, nails scrabbling at Willa's shoulders.
"That good?" Willa grins; she knows it was, the fucker. She's waiting patiently, though, not even bitching that she hasn't gotten off yet, and Nat appreciates the few minutes to recover. Once Nat can breathe again, she flips them over so she's on top, Willa's creamy skin all flushed, hot when Nat touches her. She gets two fingers into Willa, curling them just so and Willa moans, twisting her hands in Nat's hair. "You gonna just sit there and watch?" Willa teases, shifting up and then back down.
Nat sets a rhythm, all steady pressure and insistent touches. It always takes Willa awhile to come the first time, but after that, she's so sensitive, so responsive it turns into a game for Nat: see how many times she can make her former corporal come before they both collapse on the bed, exhausted and eager to sleep.
*
In the morning, Nat wakes with a sour taste in her mouth, a headache, and light it's way too early for bright in her eyes. There's a text message on her phone (the buzzing woke her up), and she opens it, prepared for some disapproval from Michaela or a taunt from Bridget, but it's neither.
Interrogative, it says. It's from Rae, and Nat's not exactly surprised. She texts them all on a regular basis, even if the responses she gets are negative or nonexistent. Was it just me, or did girls only wine night turn into a sloppy lesbian orgy again? Nat smiles. Bridget's going to be pissed.
Willa's still sleeping, her face innocent and serene, and Nat lets her. They have six more days. For now, she puts on a pot of coffee and gets the paper from outside. It's sunny outside, and the perfect temperature for a run later. Life is good.
Generation Kill; girl!Nate/girl!Walt; nc-17; 1,155 words
Nat, celebrating her graduation, drinks way more than she should and ends up flirting really obviously with Willa.
This is not what I was supposed to write today, and I still don't understand how it happened. For jones6.
~*~
Bravo Two has a reunion every so often, with Rae threatening a personal visit to the house of everyone who doesn't show up, barring deployment, so the gatherings are usually pretty well-attended. Instead of a barbecue at Michaela or Poke's house, though, it's at some bar Bridget picks out.
Nat, celebrating her graduation, drinks way more than she should and ends up flirting really obviously with Willa. Also more than she should. But Trombley's not there, so her secret's safe. Wynn keeps giving her that look that's half 'is that really the smartest choice, LT?' and half 'don't fuck this up'; Bridget just looks amused; and Rae's on this never-ending drunken rant and doesn't even notice. And it's not like Willa doesn't flirt back, sweeping her fingers across Nat's arm, hair, cheek before kissing the salt from the margarita off Nat's mouth.
When they leave, the whole thing's gone to hell: Bridget's getting felt up by Person; Pappy's whispering something into Ruby's ear that makes her laugh, throaty and rich; and Garza's resting her head on Chaffin's shoulder, eyes half-closed. Willa calls a cab, and they sit on the cold pavement waiting for it, leaning against each other.
They only do this sometimes, because they live on opposite sides of the country, because Nat's too busy for a relationship, because Willa has an on-and-off boyfriend. It took Nat a long time be okay with fucking someone under her command, but she doesn't feel guilty about it anymore, and that's what counts. What counts is that it didn't happen in Iraq: not after the roadblock; not at all while they were in theatre. That would've been dumber than anything Schwetje could've dreamed up.
It's not casual sex, because Nat hates picking up some quick fuck at a bar; they're friends with benefits, and they're both okay with it. Rae always gives Willa shit about it, but right now, Rae's probably in the bathroom with both hands up Bridget's shirt, so it doesn't matter.
In the cab, Willa eases her hand up Nat's thigh, slow slide under the material of her skirt all the way to her underwear. Nat bites back a moan as Willa kisses her neck soft and sweet, just the way she likes it. The cabbie steals a glance at them via the mirror, and Nat sees his lips quirk into a smile just before Willa bites her a little and her eyes drift closed. "Stop," Nat mouths, and Willa pulls away, but keeps her hand where it is.
Nat pays the cabbie (with a generous tip to make up for their behavior) while Willa unlocks the door. She leads Nat inside and up three flights of stairs to the familiar apartment she sometimes shares with her sometimes-boyfriend, but it's empty except for them, and dark. Willa offers Nat a drink, but they end up sharing it, passing the beer bottle back and forth between them, lip gloss smudging along the rim.
The pleasant buzz she got at the bar intensifies, like there are sparks in her veins, sparks that get hotter when Willa kisses her again, tongue warm and slick as it explores Nat's mouth. She pushes Nat down onto the couch cushions; Nat's skirt flips up with the sudden movement, and Willa just pulls it off, hands running down the length of Nat's bare legs, making Nat shiver with anticipation.
"C'mon," Nat says. "Don't hold out on me." She looks down, meeting Willa's gaze. "C'mon, I want you." Willa swallows, and Nat bites at her lips while getting undressed; she's always been a little insecure about her body, and Willa's staring at her-eyes full of hunger and want, but still. "You gonna just sit there and watch?" It's not until her hand's between her legs that Willa moves, quickly getting rid of her own clothes before straddling Nat, skin warm and sticky with sweat. She cups Nat's breast, rolling the nipple between her callused fingers, while Nat rolls her hips up, trying for some friction.
"Be patient," Willa says, but contradicts the statement when she kisses her way down Nat's stomach and thumbs over her clit, watching the way Nat reacts. "God, you look..." she starts, but trails off when Nat's finger slips into her mouth, warm and wet and not exactly where Nat wants it to be.
"Seriously," Nat says. "I leave for D.C. in a week. Stop fucking around and fuck me." She's not smiling anymore, and Willa gets it, putting her mouth and fingers just where Nat wants them. Her tongue is pink and talented, so sinful it should be illegal, and she takes Nat apart like she's disassembling a weapon. Nat's body arches and tenses, trying to hold onto the feeling as long as she can, but then she's coming, too fast, but good. It feels like someone called in a danger close on her nerves, and she knows that sounds fucked up, but it's not, it's just really fucking good, and her whole body is too hot and her skin's too tight and she's coming, nails scrabbling at Willa's shoulders.
"That good?" Willa grins; she knows it was, the fucker. She's waiting patiently, though, not even bitching that she hasn't gotten off yet, and Nat appreciates the few minutes to recover. Once Nat can breathe again, she flips them over so she's on top, Willa's creamy skin all flushed, hot when Nat touches her. She gets two fingers into Willa, curling them just so and Willa moans, twisting her hands in Nat's hair. "You gonna just sit there and watch?" Willa teases, shifting up and then back down.
Nat sets a rhythm, all steady pressure and insistent touches. It always takes Willa awhile to come the first time, but after that, she's so sensitive, so responsive it turns into a game for Nat: see how many times she can make her former corporal come before they both collapse on the bed, exhausted and eager to sleep.
*
In the morning, Nat wakes with a sour taste in her mouth, a headache, and light it's way too early for bright in her eyes. There's a text message on her phone (the buzzing woke her up), and she opens it, prepared for some disapproval from Michaela or a taunt from Bridget, but it's neither.
Interrogative, it says. It's from Rae, and Nat's not exactly surprised. She texts them all on a regular basis, even if the responses she gets are negative or nonexistent. Was it just me, or did girls only wine night turn into a sloppy lesbian orgy again? Nat smiles. Bridget's going to be pissed.
Willa's still sleeping, her face innocent and serene, and Nat lets her. They have six more days. For now, she puts on a pot of coffee and gets the paper from outside. It's sunny outside, and the perfect temperature for a run later. Life is good.