fic: come sail away
come sail away
Generation Kill; Brad/Nate; pg; 184 words
Nate's just excited to be back on the water; he hasn't done this in years.
~*~
Brad's birthday gift to Nate is a weekend yacht, rented for one day only. Of course, it comes with comments about how New England WASP it is that Nate's actually a certified charter captain. Nate's just excited to be back on the water; he hasn't done this in years. They buy a pre-made picnic lunch from a deli, and then they're off, Brad having commandeered the GPS system.
"Don't take any wrong turns," Nate says. Brad doesn't even bat an eye.
"The Pacific is far superior for what can loosely be described as 'water activities', he says.
"More sharks out there," Nate counters. "Duck."
Instinctively, Brad does, the boom coming dangerously close to hitting his head. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?" he asks.
Neither of them say anything for a while, just staring out at the horizon, where the water meets the clear sky. Boston Harbor gets smaller and smaller until all Nate can see is a speck. Brad shifts to Nate's side of the boat to avoid getting clocked in the head, his fingers slipping in between Nate's.
Generation Kill; Brad/Nate; pg; 184 words
Nate's just excited to be back on the water; he hasn't done this in years.
~*~
Brad's birthday gift to Nate is a weekend yacht, rented for one day only. Of course, it comes with comments about how New England WASP it is that Nate's actually a certified charter captain. Nate's just excited to be back on the water; he hasn't done this in years. They buy a pre-made picnic lunch from a deli, and then they're off, Brad having commandeered the GPS system.
"Don't take any wrong turns," Nate says. Brad doesn't even bat an eye.
"The Pacific is far superior for what can loosely be described as 'water activities', he says.
"More sharks out there," Nate counters. "Duck."
Instinctively, Brad does, the boom coming dangerously close to hitting his head. "It's going to be a long day, isn't it?" he asks.
Neither of them say anything for a while, just staring out at the horizon, where the water meets the clear sky. Boston Harbor gets smaller and smaller until all Nate can see is a speck. Brad shifts to Nate's side of the boat to avoid getting clocked in the head, his fingers slipping in between Nate's.