[Generation Kill] [Brad/Nate] our own world
Title: our own world
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "King Nathaniel," Brad says.
Notes: For this prompt. For some reason, I decided not to kill Brad off, so clearly I'm in a stupidly sappy mood. I did, however, let Brad roll into battle with a sword.
Brad pushes into his space, pushes their thighs together, so close that Nate can feel the shift of Brad's muscles against his legs.
"King Nathaniel," Brad says, puffs of breath against Nate's ear, his voice low and quiet. There's nobody to hear them, nobody around at all, not here in Nate's chambers, not after the coronation and the wine. "The world will be a better place with you as our ruler."
"I'm not going to create wars just to amuse you," he says, his hands resting against Brad's sides, following the movement of his breaths. "Not even if you ask nicely."
"I'm sure-" he leans in to press a kiss to Nate's lips, a rough press, a promise, Nate had never expected or wanted tenderness from Brad, he could have a wife for that. "I'll find something to occupy my time instead, your highness."
He doesn't create wars just to amuse Brad, but they come anyway. They ride to battle together, Brad's armour gleaming in the sun, his face always set, the joy in his eyes imperceptible to anyone who hadn't grown up with him. He never tells Nate to be careful, probably doesn't even think it, but he checks himself for bruises and blood. He whispers better strategies, the individual strengths of the army at their backs, reassures Nate that he's making the right choices but stands silently at Nate's back in public, acts as if he hasn't a thought to share.
"Lady Elizabeth will make a good queen," Brad says, staring out of the window. There are children playing in the courtyard, wooden swords banging together. His squire is out there too, Nate knows, the young boy, Walt, who has already progressed away from wooden swords under Brad's careful eye.
"I've been assured that she's a good woman," Nate says. "Kind and fair, she's mastered her arts."
"But?"
"She's certainly not you." He hadn't wanted to say it, no matter how much time stands between them, no matter how long they've been sneaking around together, he hadn't wanted to say anything like that. He wants to blame it on lack of sleep, the cup of wine he'd had earlier, he doesn't have anything at all to blame it on.
"That's a lovely thought, your highness." Brad's turning around, leaning against the wall. He's face is plan, he's not giving anything away, not even in his eyes. "But I would look terrible in a dress."
Rumors circle the castle, rumors about why it's taking so long for the Queen to get pregnant - they all blame her of course - but the fact the King and Queen keep separate suites is suspicious too. The king, after all, has always been very close to the Knight of Ice.
Nobody says anything within Brad's hearing of course, not with his sword always so close to hand, not with his history, nor do they say anything to his squire, with the training he's had.
Nate doesn't care for rumors, never has. His father had taught him that from a young age, that rumors were idle gossip and jealousy and not to be thought of, not to be given the time of day. He doesn't care what the people say, not with Brad by his side with his dry wit, with his intelligence, with his - and Brad would kill him to hear him say it - love.
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "King Nathaniel," Brad says.
Notes: For this prompt. For some reason, I decided not to kill Brad off, so clearly I'm in a stupidly sappy mood. I did, however, let Brad roll into battle with a sword.
Brad pushes into his space, pushes their thighs together, so close that Nate can feel the shift of Brad's muscles against his legs.
"King Nathaniel," Brad says, puffs of breath against Nate's ear, his voice low and quiet. There's nobody to hear them, nobody around at all, not here in Nate's chambers, not after the coronation and the wine. "The world will be a better place with you as our ruler."
"I'm not going to create wars just to amuse you," he says, his hands resting against Brad's sides, following the movement of his breaths. "Not even if you ask nicely."
"I'm sure-" he leans in to press a kiss to Nate's lips, a rough press, a promise, Nate had never expected or wanted tenderness from Brad, he could have a wife for that. "I'll find something to occupy my time instead, your highness."
He doesn't create wars just to amuse Brad, but they come anyway. They ride to battle together, Brad's armour gleaming in the sun, his face always set, the joy in his eyes imperceptible to anyone who hadn't grown up with him. He never tells Nate to be careful, probably doesn't even think it, but he checks himself for bruises and blood. He whispers better strategies, the individual strengths of the army at their backs, reassures Nate that he's making the right choices but stands silently at Nate's back in public, acts as if he hasn't a thought to share.
"Lady Elizabeth will make a good queen," Brad says, staring out of the window. There are children playing in the courtyard, wooden swords banging together. His squire is out there too, Nate knows, the young boy, Walt, who has already progressed away from wooden swords under Brad's careful eye.
"I've been assured that she's a good woman," Nate says. "Kind and fair, she's mastered her arts."
"But?"
"She's certainly not you." He hadn't wanted to say it, no matter how much time stands between them, no matter how long they've been sneaking around together, he hadn't wanted to say anything like that. He wants to blame it on lack of sleep, the cup of wine he'd had earlier, he doesn't have anything at all to blame it on.
"That's a lovely thought, your highness." Brad's turning around, leaning against the wall. He's face is plan, he's not giving anything away, not even in his eyes. "But I would look terrible in a dress."
Rumors circle the castle, rumors about why it's taking so long for the Queen to get pregnant - they all blame her of course - but the fact the King and Queen keep separate suites is suspicious too. The king, after all, has always been very close to the Knight of Ice.
Nobody says anything within Brad's hearing of course, not with his sword always so close to hand, not with his history, nor do they say anything to his squire, with the training he's had.
Nate doesn't care for rumors, never has. His father had taught him that from a young age, that rumors were idle gossip and jealousy and not to be thought of, not to be given the time of day. He doesn't care what the people say, not with Brad by his side with his dry wit, with his intelligence, with his - and Brad would kill him to hear him say it - love.