It’s July 26th, a Tuesday, in the morning. Walking through the automatic doors of the local Wal*Mart, Brad realizes this is the last time he’ll feel this particular brand of crazy. The one that makes it feel like his skin’s too tight and his heart might thump out of his chest.
They are finally, finally buying Nate some bras. Brad could weep. His brain can finally use his blood too, and maybe he can think about something other than Nate’s tits for a while.
But not yet. Nate’s walking quickly to keep pace with Brad as they move around the frazzled mothers and NASCAR hicks shopping, and his tits are bouncing gently under his baggy t-shirt with every step.
Brad slows down to let Nate catch up and glances at Nate as they walk under an air-conditioner. Nate shivers a little, and his next step involves bouncing and nipples.
Brad looks away quickly, staring at the packages of socks on the shelves. He tries not to think about cornering Nate against one of these cheap shelves and cupping his breasts, his small nipples brushing Brad’s palms and his mouth open for Brad’s.
He picks up a package of socks, reading the size chart obsessively. Nate’s got size nine feet. These would fit Nate. Brad holds onto them. He doesn’t look at the underwear, doesn’t think about them. He thinks about socks.
Nate hands him another one of the packages and when Brad looks he’s blushing horribly, his face desperately pink. He has his left hand tucked into his right armpit, across his breasts.
The package in Brad’s hand is a package of six pairs of panties, brown and blue and black. They’re a women’s medium. The woman on the front is wearing a pair of these panties, although hers are white. They’re those kind of underwear women seem to like now, the boxer-briefs for the fairer sex. The woman on the package is laughing, her fingers touching her mouth, like she has a secret.
Nate looks miserable, staring behind this shelf to the racks and racks of bras on the floor. Brad looks back at the package in his hands.
“This is so…I don’t know what to do,” Nate says, fiercely embarrassed. His new voice shakes in a way that makes Brad hurt, want to fix this.
He looks at the package of panties. They’re cheap, nothing special.
“It’s just,” he says quietly, “it’s just underwear, Nate. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He doesn’t reach out and touch the flushed nape of Nate’s neck, although he wants to, right at the line where Nate had his last regulation cut. It’s been almost nine weeks since then, give or take.
“I know,” Nate says sharply, then softens. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Don’t be. Let’s just do this.” He adds, “Quick, before I start scratching my junk in public and wearing too-short sweatpants like the rest of these jagoffs.”
Nate’s still blushing, but he smiles a little too, and something inside Brad curls up tight with happiness.
Oh, Nate. And Brad is so amazing. With the shutting down his own emotions and trying so hard to make it easier on Nate. OH MY HEART AT THE END THERE!!!!!!!!
Brad kinda maybe wants to wrap Nate up in a blanket and hide him from the world. But he knows that as soon as Nate figured out what was going on he'd punch Brad in the balls or something. So, Brad holds off.
Doesn't stop him from glaring at all the other guys who stare at Nate, probably thinking about fucking the super hot bald chick over there.
Oh Nate. This is just lovely and hurty with this sort of dawning hopefulness, like Brad is steadying him by just being there and being Brad. (and it made me think about all the weird firsts and sort of social transgressions?, I guess, that Nate is going to have; going into a womens bathroom for the first time etc)
And that the whole situation makes something so simple, buying clothing, just fraught with everything. Buying implies a sort of permanence, that Nate isn't expecting this to end tomorrow and that he's engaging in this socially female act (I mean, of course there's also practicality in a bra, but it's obviously so much more loaded then that and also that you have Nate buying girl briefs! It's like, Nate, represented by underwear).
And Brad being just so...gobsmacked by his new body, omg, (and reconning him! filing away the Nate facts) and it all being a combo of girl! and Nate!, but at the same time he's so careful about it, about Nate.
Really? Eee, how can I say no to that! Okay, some girl!Nate prompts to choose from then. From MR - (before) Nate and Brad meeting again for the first time, (after) the phone call (how can I not ask!). But I would totally understand if you didn't want to do those, so. Some more open to interpretation prompts : Nate and(in) Brad's house, Nate and Brad's parents, Ray meets Natalie.
Everyone teases him about having a roommate, saying she’s probably his prisoner or his love slave or maybe just, You poor guy, no seriously. They don’t mean it.
Doesn’t stop them from being curious though.
“Seriously, dog. You’ve lived with this chick for two months and you can’t tell us what she’s like?”
Brad looks across the table at Poke, Walt, Pappy and Ray, their interested faces and their hands wrapped around their beer glasses. He sighs loudly. His glass is empty.
“She’s.” Brad pauses because the word’s weird and he’s not sure what to say. “She’s cool, I guess. Really private though. Kind of butch, shaved head.”
“Hot,” Ray says. He’s leaning on his elbows, smiling. This is like Christmas for him. Brad’s refused to say anything or let Ray snoop around the basement. “She is hot, right.”
What Brad wants to say is, Fuck you all, but that wouldn’t fit. Instead he thinks about what he would say if it wasn’t Nate.
He settles on, “She’s pretty hot.”
Ray looks pleased. “Good,” he says.
*
Brad gets in from surfing around seven on Saturdays. It’s the only day he really gets out anymore, with his computer tech job. That’s okay though. The job’s in his field of interest and it pays all the bills.
He dumps his board in the garage and slips into the house, thinking about going back to bed for an hour or so. But the house smells like coffee and he can hear Nate in the kitchen, so he passes his bedroom door for the light of the kitchen.
Nate’s in pajama pants and a t-shirt, leaning against the island, sipping a cup of coffee. He looks sleepy and warm and Brad has to resist the sudden and absurd urge to kiss the top of his head where his hair is growing in rusty-blonde.
“Hey,” he says instead, pouring a cup of coffee. “It’s early.”
Nate blinks a few times. “Gonna go for a run.”
The first swallow has Brad’s tongue burning, but he sucks on the coffee flavour, trying to soothe it that way. It doesn’t work well.
Nate shifts a little, rubbing his free hand over his face. He’s not much of a morning person, seemingly asleep even after he’s emerged from the basement. The book store-coffee shop hybrid he works at doesn’t ever open before ten, but he’s still usually up before Brad leaves for work. He says it gives him purpose, and Brad supposes he needs that now.
Brad drinks half a cup of coffee in soft silence with Nate. He thinks about a morning like this, where instead of Nate leaving and Brad peeling off his wetsuit in the bathroom, he could coax Nate back into bed -his bed-not even for sex, just to sleep. He’s fiddling with the zipper on his suit, right on the edge of reality when the screen door bangs open and Ray opens the front door.
“Iceman! I know you’re awake. Let’s get some motherfuckin’ breakfast!”
Nate freezes, his face going pale. There’s no time for him to leave, and the staircase downstairs is directly in line of sight from the door.
Brad shakes his head, although he’s not sure if he means Shit or It’s okay. He tries to look natural. Nate swallows hard as Ray’s footsteps approach.
“Dude, are you dea-oh.” Ray stops inside the doorway, looking at Nate. “Sorry.”
He actually looks sorry, for exactly the time it takes him to realize he’s been afforded a priceless opportunity. Then he grins, shoving a hand out.
“Ray. You must be Brad’s roommate.”
“Ah,” Nate says. “Yeah.” He shakes Ray’s hand. “Natalie.”
Ray nods. Brad can see him writing out the story of this encounter for the guys.
“You wanna have breakfast?” Brad cuts in, before Ray can flesh out his story any further.
“Yes,” Ray says, not looking away from Nate.
“Be good. I’ll be right back.”
He leaves his wetsuit on his bedroom floor and doesn’t bother with briefs or socks, just struggles into a t-shirt and shorts.
“No coffee!” he yells as he steps down the stairs to the front door, fumbling into his flip flops. “Let’s go, Ray!”
There’s the polite murmur of Ray and Nate saying goodbye and then Ray appears. He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyebrows raised. Brad shakes his head.
As soon as the door closes behind Brad Ray says, “Brad, your roommate is fucking smokin’, shaved head or not. Although, personally I think it adds a certain foxy je ne sais quoi.”
What really gets to me about these stories is how layered they are, there's just so much going on and it's lovely and real and complicated (with these blushes of romance, when Brad looks at the top of Nate's head, when he wants to take him to bed). Brad constructing this story of Natalie in a way that the guys will respond to it in the right way, and Nate himself hasn't even really started to sketch that in yet, he's just hiding and reacting. The contrast between the two early snippets that you've written here and MR is so good too, the evolution of Nate, of them is heartbreaking and beautiful and fascinating. (Also I'm super intrigued that Ray was so low key, well, for him that is almost comatose! “Yes,” Ray says, not looking away from Nate. And then this and I'm sort of torn between thinking that he knows? Or suspects? Or some inner alarm is going off? But then he goes back to being Ray with that penultimate line and yes).
So yeah, I could pretty much roll around happily in this universe for a long long time.
What really gets to me about these stories is how layered they are, there's just so much going on and it's lovely and real and complicated
Thank you! Writing these layers and playing with preconceptions. The complications of the story are really interesting to write, and satisfying to see people reading and enjoying it.
The contrast between the two early snippets that you've written here and MR is so good too, the evolution of Nate, of them is heartbreaking and beautiful and fascinating.
:D
So yeah, I could pretty much roll around happily in this universe for a long long time.
I can now completely see Ray doing a Recon on Nate at work (because it's totally not stalking when it's in Brad's best interests), and dragging Walt along with him.
They are finally, finally buying Nate some bras. Brad could weep. His brain can finally use his blood too, and maybe he can think about something other than Nate’s tits for a while.
But not yet. Nate’s walking quickly to keep pace with Brad as they move around the frazzled mothers and NASCAR hicks shopping, and his tits are bouncing gently under his baggy t-shirt with every step.
Brad slows down to let Nate catch up and glances at Nate as they walk under an air-conditioner. Nate shivers a little, and his next step involves bouncing and nipples.
Brad looks away quickly, staring at the packages of socks on the shelves. He tries not to think about cornering Nate against one of these cheap shelves and cupping his breasts, his small nipples brushing Brad’s palms and his mouth open for Brad’s.
He picks up a package of socks, reading the size chart obsessively. Nate’s got size nine feet. These would fit Nate. Brad holds onto them. He doesn’t look at the underwear, doesn’t think about them. He thinks about socks.
Nate hands him another one of the packages and when Brad looks he’s blushing horribly, his face desperately pink. He has his left hand tucked into his right armpit, across his breasts.
The package in Brad’s hand is a package of six pairs of panties, brown and blue and black. They’re a women’s medium. The woman on the front is wearing a pair of these panties, although hers are white. They’re those kind of underwear women seem to like now, the boxer-briefs for the fairer sex. The woman on the package is laughing, her fingers touching her mouth, like she has a secret.
Nate looks miserable, staring behind this shelf to the racks and racks of bras on the floor. Brad looks back at the package in his hands.
“This is so…I don’t know what to do,” Nate says, fiercely embarrassed. His new voice shakes in a way that makes Brad hurt, want to fix this.
He looks at the package of panties. They’re cheap, nothing special.
“It’s just,” he says quietly, “it’s just underwear, Nate. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He doesn’t reach out and touch the flushed nape of Nate’s neck, although he wants to, right at the line where Nate had his last regulation cut. It’s been almost nine weeks since then, give or take.
“I know,” Nate says sharply, then softens. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Don’t be. Let’s just do this.” He adds, “Quick, before I start scratching my junk in public and wearing too-short sweatpants like the rest of these jagoffs.”
Nate’s still blushing, but he smiles a little too, and something inside Brad curls up tight with happiness.
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this is so painful (nate awkwardness) and so lovely (brad wanting to fix it) at the very same time
something inside Brad curls up tight with happiness
this, this right here? made me cry :p
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I'm glad you liked!
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Doesn't stop him from glaring at all the other guys who stare at Nate, probably thinking about fucking the super hot bald chick over there.
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And that the whole situation makes something so simple, buying clothing, just fraught with everything. Buying implies a sort of permanence, that Nate isn't expecting this to end tomorrow and that he's engaging in this socially female act (I mean, of course there's also practicality in a bra, but it's obviously so much more loaded then that and also that you have Nate buying girl briefs! It's like, Nate, represented by underwear).
And Brad being just so...gobsmacked by his new body, omg, (and reconning him! filing away the Nate facts) and it all being a combo of girl! and Nate!, but at the same time he's so careful about it, about Nate.
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Okay, some girl!Nate prompts to choose from then.
From MR - (before) Nate and Brad meeting again for the first time, (after) the phone call (how can I not ask!). But I would totally understand if you didn't want to do those, so.
Some more open to interpretation prompts : Nate and(in) Brad's house, Nate and Brad's parents, Ray meets Natalie.
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Doesn’t stop them from being curious though.
“Seriously, dog. You’ve lived with this chick for two months and you can’t tell us what she’s like?”
Brad looks across the table at Poke, Walt, Pappy and Ray, their interested faces and their hands wrapped around their beer glasses. He sighs loudly. His glass is empty.
“She’s.” Brad pauses because the word’s weird and he’s not sure what to say. “She’s cool, I guess. Really private though. Kind of butch, shaved head.”
“Hot,” Ray says. He’s leaning on his elbows, smiling. This is like Christmas for him. Brad’s refused to say anything or let Ray snoop around the basement. “She is hot, right.”
What Brad wants to say is, Fuck you all, but that wouldn’t fit. Instead he thinks about what he would say if it wasn’t Nate.
He settles on, “She’s pretty hot.”
Ray looks pleased. “Good,” he says.
*
Brad gets in from surfing around seven on Saturdays. It’s the only day he really gets out anymore, with his computer tech job. That’s okay though. The job’s in his field of interest and it pays all the bills.
He dumps his board in the garage and slips into the house, thinking about going back to bed for an hour or so. But the house smells like coffee and he can hear Nate in the kitchen, so he passes his bedroom door for the light of the kitchen.
Nate’s in pajama pants and a t-shirt, leaning against the island, sipping a cup of coffee. He looks sleepy and warm and Brad has to resist the sudden and absurd urge to kiss the top of his head where his hair is growing in rusty-blonde.
“Hey,” he says instead, pouring a cup of coffee. “It’s early.”
Nate blinks a few times. “Gonna go for a run.”
The first swallow has Brad’s tongue burning, but he sucks on the coffee flavour, trying to soothe it that way. It doesn’t work well.
Nate shifts a little, rubbing his free hand over his face. He’s not much of a morning person, seemingly asleep even after he’s emerged from the basement. The book store-coffee shop hybrid he works at doesn’t ever open before ten, but he’s still usually up before Brad leaves for work. He says it gives him purpose, and Brad supposes he needs that now.
Brad drinks half a cup of coffee in soft silence with Nate. He thinks about a morning like this, where instead of Nate leaving and Brad peeling off his wetsuit in the bathroom, he could coax Nate back into bed -his bed-not even for sex, just to sleep. He’s fiddling with the zipper on his suit, right on the edge of reality when the screen door bangs open and Ray opens the front door.
“Iceman! I know you’re awake. Let’s get some motherfuckin’ breakfast!”
Nate freezes, his face going pale. There’s no time for him to leave, and the staircase downstairs is directly in line of sight from the door.
Brad shakes his head, although he’s not sure if he means Shit or It’s okay. He tries to look natural. Nate swallows hard as Ray’s footsteps approach.
“Dude, are you dea-oh.” Ray stops inside the doorway, looking at Nate. “Sorry.”
He actually looks sorry, for exactly the time it takes him to realize he’s been afforded a priceless opportunity. Then he grins, shoving a hand out.
“Ray. You must be Brad’s roommate.”
“Ah,” Nate says. “Yeah.” He shakes Ray’s hand. “Natalie.”
Ray nods. Brad can see him writing out the story of this encounter for the guys.
“You wanna have breakfast?” Brad cuts in, before Ray can flesh out his story any further.
“Yes,” Ray says, not looking away from Nate.
“Be good. I’ll be right back.”
He leaves his wetsuit on his bedroom floor and doesn’t bother with briefs or socks, just struggles into a t-shirt and shorts.
“No coffee!” he yells as he steps down the stairs to the front door, fumbling into his flip flops. “Let’s go, Ray!”
There’s the polite murmur of Ray and Nate saying goodbye and then Ray appears. He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyebrows raised. Brad shakes his head.
As soon as the door closes behind Brad Ray says, “Brad, your roommate is fucking smokin’, shaved head or not. Although, personally I think it adds a certain foxy je ne sais quoi.”
Brad smiles. If he only knew.
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(Also I'm super intrigued that Ray was so low key, well, for him that is almost comatose! “Yes,” Ray says, not looking away from Nate. And then this and I'm sort of torn between thinking that he knows? Or suspects? Or some inner alarm is going off? But then he goes back to being Ray with that penultimate line and yes).
So yeah, I could pretty much roll around happily in this universe for a long long time.
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Thank you! Writing these layers and playing with preconceptions. The complications of the story are really interesting to write, and satisfying to see people reading and enjoying it.
The contrast between the two early snippets that you've written here and MR is so good too, the evolution of Nate, of them is heartbreaking and beautiful and fascinating.
:D
So yeah, I could pretty much roll around happily in this universe for a long long time.
I'm glad. It's great to write!
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