[Generation Kill] [Brad/Nate] Of Things That Break & Untitled
Title: Of Things That Break
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You are tired, (I think), of the always puzzle of living and doing; And so am I.
Notes: For this prompt; not even sure what this verse is anymore.
WC: 466
He lets Nate sleep, sits and stares out of the window and times his breaths with Nate's, a long inhale, a beat, a slow exhale. Nate's duffel bag is on the end of the bed, unpacked, unopened, almost forgotten.
The air hangs heavy for now, the bitter taste of words unsaid caught in Brad's throat. He hadn't known what to say when he'd opened the door to find Nate, a duffel bag and that stupid hopeful expression Brad had thought he'd never have to see again. Nate hadn't said anything either, he'd just shrugged, curled his shoulders inwards and looked like he was so close to passing out. There'd been nothing to say with Nate barely standing straight.
He curls his toes into the bedsheets and wishes for bunks, wishes for a foot locker, wishes for somewhere else to sit. Anywhere but this close to Nate.
The sun has risen by the time Nate wakes up, curls up, stretches his shoulders and nudges his knuckles into the headboard and finally, slowly, opens his eyes. He looks confused for a moment, blinks blearily up at Brad but the fog seems to clear. He rubs at his eyes and says nothing.
"What are you doing here?" Brad says, stands up and moves himself away from Nate, finally, puts space back in between them. He'd get out of the house entirely if he could, run away, get away from Nate and everything Nate means, everything Nate is. "I'm an enemy of the state, you can't be here." It doesn't hurt to say anymore. It doesn't squeeze at his heart and his lungs and his stomach the way it once had. It's just a fact.
He's Brad Colbert. He's thirty four. He has two sisters, a mother and a father. He likes speed and tech. He doesn't drink coffee. He's an enemy of the state.
"I-" Nate says, shakes his head, licks at his lips. "I missed you," he says, and Brad doesn't let that make him happy. "Ray told me you'd be here."
"You shouldn't have come," Brad says, turns his back and turns away and Nate says Brad, calls his name like it's all he has and he sounds broken, broken and hurt and lost and that, that grips Brad like ice, that makes his stomach drop and his heart hammer because Nate shouldn't, there's no reason for him to sound like that, he's Nate Fick, he stands up for what he believes in and he always knows what believes in and-
"Brad, I left," he says. "I left too."
Title: Untitled
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Back story to Of Things That Break. Idk, I was trying to figure out the verse.
WC: 336
Brad meets Nathaniel (call me Nate) Fick on a Tuesday. He shakes his hand and he doesn't smile and he doesn't laugh when Ray says looks like our commander is a thirteen year old, homes and forget rolling into battle with a sword, Brad, we're going to fight the God damn Kars with pacifiers and nap time but he thinks Ray might have a point.
At least, he thinks Ray might have a point until he hacks the databank and finds Nate's credentials.
They go to war on a Wednesday. They do nothing for weeks and weeks and Nate desperately tries to keep morale up, doesn't push them too hard and doesn't give them shit about leaving their shirts untucked. He trains with them and eats the same shitty food as them and he joins in the chess tournaments and let's everyone kick his ass. Slowly, everyone falls in love him, though they'd never say that - except for Ray, who proposes at least three times a day. At best, most people will offer that he's competent. Brad never says anything, keeps it to himself and ignores the looks Nate sends his way.
They go to battle on a Thursday and Nate is everything Brad hadn't expected. He commands the crew like he was born to it, pilots the ship when Ray needs sleep like he knows how much Brad hates to. Brad doesn't want to know if he does.
They go home on a Friday, and that's when Brad notices the pattern, staring at a calendar covered in kittens in his sister's kitchen.
He doesn't kiss Nate on a Saturday on purpose. He leaves it to a Monday, presses Nate to his desk and kisses him like he means it and smirks when Nate says well that was out of left field because it wasn't, it really fucking wasn't.
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You are tired, (I think), of the always puzzle of living and doing; And so am I.
Notes: For this prompt; not even sure what this verse is anymore.
WC: 466
He lets Nate sleep, sits and stares out of the window and times his breaths with Nate's, a long inhale, a beat, a slow exhale. Nate's duffel bag is on the end of the bed, unpacked, unopened, almost forgotten.
The air hangs heavy for now, the bitter taste of words unsaid caught in Brad's throat. He hadn't known what to say when he'd opened the door to find Nate, a duffel bag and that stupid hopeful expression Brad had thought he'd never have to see again. Nate hadn't said anything either, he'd just shrugged, curled his shoulders inwards and looked like he was so close to passing out. There'd been nothing to say with Nate barely standing straight.
He curls his toes into the bedsheets and wishes for bunks, wishes for a foot locker, wishes for somewhere else to sit. Anywhere but this close to Nate.
The sun has risen by the time Nate wakes up, curls up, stretches his shoulders and nudges his knuckles into the headboard and finally, slowly, opens his eyes. He looks confused for a moment, blinks blearily up at Brad but the fog seems to clear. He rubs at his eyes and says nothing.
"What are you doing here?" Brad says, stands up and moves himself away from Nate, finally, puts space back in between them. He'd get out of the house entirely if he could, run away, get away from Nate and everything Nate means, everything Nate is. "I'm an enemy of the state, you can't be here." It doesn't hurt to say anymore. It doesn't squeeze at his heart and his lungs and his stomach the way it once had. It's just a fact.
He's Brad Colbert. He's thirty four. He has two sisters, a mother and a father. He likes speed and tech. He doesn't drink coffee. He's an enemy of the state.
"I-" Nate says, shakes his head, licks at his lips. "I missed you," he says, and Brad doesn't let that make him happy. "Ray told me you'd be here."
"You shouldn't have come," Brad says, turns his back and turns away and Nate says Brad, calls his name like it's all he has and he sounds broken, broken and hurt and lost and that, that grips Brad like ice, that makes his stomach drop and his heart hammer because Nate shouldn't, there's no reason for him to sound like that, he's Nate Fick, he stands up for what he believes in and he always knows what believes in and-
"Brad, I left," he says. "I left too."
Title: Untitled
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Back story to Of Things That Break. Idk, I was trying to figure out the verse.
WC: 336
Brad meets Nathaniel (call me Nate) Fick on a Tuesday. He shakes his hand and he doesn't smile and he doesn't laugh when Ray says looks like our commander is a thirteen year old, homes and forget rolling into battle with a sword, Brad, we're going to fight the God damn Kars with pacifiers and nap time but he thinks Ray might have a point.
At least, he thinks Ray might have a point until he hacks the databank and finds Nate's credentials.
They go to war on a Wednesday. They do nothing for weeks and weeks and Nate desperately tries to keep morale up, doesn't push them too hard and doesn't give them shit about leaving their shirts untucked. He trains with them and eats the same shitty food as them and he joins in the chess tournaments and let's everyone kick his ass. Slowly, everyone falls in love him, though they'd never say that - except for Ray, who proposes at least three times a day. At best, most people will offer that he's competent. Brad never says anything, keeps it to himself and ignores the looks Nate sends his way.
They go to battle on a Thursday and Nate is everything Brad hadn't expected. He commands the crew like he was born to it, pilots the ship when Ray needs sleep like he knows how much Brad hates to. Brad doesn't want to know if he does.
They go home on a Friday, and that's when Brad notices the pattern, staring at a calendar covered in kittens in his sister's kitchen.
He doesn't kiss Nate on a Saturday on purpose. He leaves it to a Monday, presses Nate to his desk and kisses him like he means it and smirks when Nate says well that was out of left field because it wasn't, it really fucking wasn't.