GK, Wear my heart on my sleeve, 1/1, PG13, Brad, Ray, 1,539
Title: Wear my heart on my sleeve
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert, Ray Person (Poke/OFC, Nate, Walt)
Warning(s): AU, allusions to child abuse
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): None
Word Count: 1,539
Notes: I have a lot of feelings about this ' verse. Not all of them are happy.
Summary: Ray likes to stick close to Brad. Brad feels like he's powerless to help him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This is a work of fiction inspired by the fictional portrayal of the actual events. No harm intended.
Ray keeps Brad company when he runs virus scans on the old computers in the lab. Technically, Brad should have kicked him out long ago, but it’s raining pretty heavily and he’s not entirely convinced Ray wouldn’t wash away with the rain. Not that Brad will tell Ray that anytime soon.
Instead, Brad focuses on the computers in front of him and lets the constant slew of noise from Ray fill the room. It’s familiar and Brad really doesn’t mind. It’s not until the room goes silent does Brad realize he’s supposed to reply.
”What?” He asks, glancing up at Ray and frowning.
Ray kicks his foot against the ground and makes the chair spin around and around. It makes Brad more dizzy than it does Ray, Brad thinks irritably. “I asked how come you’re always here.”
”Because I can’t do my job from home,” Brad replies easily. He looks back at the computer in front of him, but it’s got a bar stuck at thirty-seven percent.
The community center has needed new computers for the last decade, but Brad has no idea how they’re going to get them. He can afford one, maybe two, if he gets the cheap ones from Wal*Mart, but Brad would rather it didn’t come to that. They need to do a fundraiser of some sort, not that anyone cares about this place anymore.
”I would have figured you more for the go get drunk and pick up chicks in a bar kind of guy,” Ray says. He stops spinning and rests his chin on the back of his chair, twisting so he’s straddling the thing instead. “You know. I bet chicks love that.”
”Ray, if you don’t pick something else to talk about then I’m going to be forced to kick you out now,” Brad deadpans.
”You wouldn’t,” Ray says. He stops squeaking in his chair and stares at Brad, just daring him. When Brad doesn’t move, he grins wider. “I knew you wouldn’t. You love me and you know it.”
”Just try me, Ray,” Brad mutters tiredly.
For a moment, Ray is quiet, except for the tapping of his ratty sneakers against the carpet. It doesn’t last though, and Ray sucks in a sharp breath before going “Sooo”.
Brad gives up on this being a quiet night, but he doesn’t really mind.
- - -
The further away they get from the center and the closer to Ray’s place they get, the more the atmosphere in the Jeep changes. Ray’s light hearted banter falls to short, terse sentences until he’s as quiet as Brad is.
Brad can only tolerate the swish of the wipers for so long before he gives in and sighs. “Ray,” he says, and what he means is, what’s wrong?
”Can I maybe come home with you tonight?” Ray asks. He doesn’t look at Brad, choosing to stare out the window instead. As impassive as he tries to keep his expression, his voice is kind of meek, and Brad can see the way his fingers curl into the fabric of his jeans.
For a moment, Brad is quiet. Ray’s words hurt almost as much as the ones Brad is obligated to say. “You know I can’t let you do that.”
”Just for one night,” Ray says, glancing over at Brad for glancing away. “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll be gone in the morning before school starts.”
”If your parents notice you’re gone, we could both get in a lot of trouble,” Brad says. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, trying to force some of the pent up aggression, but he doesn’t feel any better.
”Like they would even care,” Ray mutters. He’s probably right. Ray’s never outright told Brad, but Brad’s heard enough from when the kids get together to tell their horror stories, and Brad knows how to read between the lines.
Until Ray comes out and says anything is wrong, there’s really nothing for Brad to do. Even Nate can do little more than shuffle his feet and offer platitudes that always fall flat. They’re helpless to do anything until Ray asks for help.
”Ray,” Brad says.
”Forget it,” Ray says. He scrambles for his seatbelt, even though they’re still moving. “You can let me out here. I’ll walk home.”
”Ray,” Brad says again, more forcefully.
”If you don’t stop this fucking car right now I’m going to throw myself out of the window,” Ray spits back. He’s shaking, furious at Brad and himself, and it only serves to set Brad on edge. “I’m perfectly capable of walking home on my own in the dark.”
There’s no choice but for Brad to pull his Jeep over to the curb, because he doesn’t doubt Ray’s convictions even a little. He’s been working at the community center for too long to not take any sort of stupid plans seriously. “We could call Nate.”
”Nate won’t let me sleep on his couch any more than you will yours,” Ray snaps. He falls back into his seat, arms folded over his chest defiantly. He doesn’t flee though, and Brad takes that as a good sign.
Ray is probably right. Then again, Nate is a better person than Brad, so maybe not. Brad relaxes his grip on the steering wheel and slumps back in his seat as well. “Do you want me to take you to your grandmother’s?”
There’s a soft huff of breath from Ray, before he shakes his head. “I’ll go home,” he says quietly. “But if he’s there, I’m going to slash your fucking tires tomorrow.”
Ray doesn’t have to say any names for Brad to know Ray means his mother’s boyfriend. The would-be stepfather of the year. “Call Nate, Ray. Or call me. If something happens, we can come get you.”
”I don’t want to end up in the system like Walt,” Ray says, tipping his head to the side and hiding his face. “I’d rather just deal with this.”
There are so many things Brad wants to say to that, but he doesn’t know where to start. Before he can say any of them though, Ray mutters “can you just take me home now?”
At first, Brad doesn’t respond. He can feel Ray’s frustration building, more than he can see it, and he reaches over to snap Ray’s seatbelt back into place before he pulls off the side of the street and starts to drive. He feels like shit, but he probably deserves it.
- - -
Brad doesn’t know what to do when he gets home. His apartment feels so quiet, despite the soft patter of rain against the windows. He should turn up the heat, maybe, but somehow it’s more satisfying to just collapse back onto his couch and drag the fleece throw off the back to huddle under.
He should call Ray to check in, Brad thinks, but he doesn’t want to hover. The last thing Brad wants to do is lose the trust Ray has in him. Brad needs to trust Ray as much as Ray trusts him.
There’s nothing for Brad to do but turn the TV onto a Mythbusters marathon and stare at the screen blankly until he manages to pass out.
- - -
Brad is back in the computer lab trying to unfuck some of the computers when Ray finds him. He wants to ask why Ray’s not in school, but he spares a glance at a clock and realizes it’s later than he thought.
Ray hands him a to-go cup from Starbucks and Brad knows better than to ask where Ray got the money for it. Today, he’ll let it slide, and accept the peace offering for what it’s worth.
”Wouldn’t you be better off just wiping the systems?” Ray asks, straddling one of the spinning chairs and resting his chin on the back. He toes the ground, spinning slowly, but his eyes never stray from Brad for long.
”Maybe,” Brad says. He rubs under his eyes, where the skin is soft and dark, before sighing in frustration. “But then I have nothing to yell at for the next few hours.”
”You could yell at Poke,” Ray says. “That’s what Gina is doing.”
Brad takes a sip of his coffee - black, because Ray is a good, smart kid - and quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask.”
”Probably the right idea,” Ray hums. He twirls again, slow, before stopping. He reaches out and makes a grabby hand. “I want some of that coffee.”
”Too bad,” Brad replies. He sets it on the desk, out of Ray’s reach.
”I’m telling Gina you’ve got like, contraband in the computer lab,” Ray scowls. He pushes his chair closer, and Brad doesn’t stop Ray from grabbing the coffee to take a sip.
”Gina loves me,” Brad counters. He watches Ray put the coffee back down on the desk, careful not to spill it, before he glances at his computer monitor again.
Ray scoffs and Brad pretends to ignore him. It’s easy to fall into the familiar ease between them, Ray rambling about schoolwork as he does his math and Brad messing with the computers.
For a few hours, nothing else matters and maybe everything isn’t alright in the world, but it’s close enough to count.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert, Ray Person (Poke/OFC, Nate, Walt)
Warning(s): AU, allusions to child abuse
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): None
Word Count: 1,539
Notes: I have a lot of feelings about this ' verse. Not all of them are happy.
Summary: Ray likes to stick close to Brad. Brad feels like he's powerless to help him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Generation Kill. This is a work of fiction inspired by the fictional portrayal of the actual events. No harm intended.
Ray keeps Brad company when he runs virus scans on the old computers in the lab. Technically, Brad should have kicked him out long ago, but it’s raining pretty heavily and he’s not entirely convinced Ray wouldn’t wash away with the rain. Not that Brad will tell Ray that anytime soon.
Instead, Brad focuses on the computers in front of him and lets the constant slew of noise from Ray fill the room. It’s familiar and Brad really doesn’t mind. It’s not until the room goes silent does Brad realize he’s supposed to reply.
”What?” He asks, glancing up at Ray and frowning.
Ray kicks his foot against the ground and makes the chair spin around and around. It makes Brad more dizzy than it does Ray, Brad thinks irritably. “I asked how come you’re always here.”
”Because I can’t do my job from home,” Brad replies easily. He looks back at the computer in front of him, but it’s got a bar stuck at thirty-seven percent.
The community center has needed new computers for the last decade, but Brad has no idea how they’re going to get them. He can afford one, maybe two, if he gets the cheap ones from Wal*Mart, but Brad would rather it didn’t come to that. They need to do a fundraiser of some sort, not that anyone cares about this place anymore.
”I would have figured you more for the go get drunk and pick up chicks in a bar kind of guy,” Ray says. He stops spinning and rests his chin on the back of his chair, twisting so he’s straddling the thing instead. “You know. I bet chicks love that.”
”Ray, if you don’t pick something else to talk about then I’m going to be forced to kick you out now,” Brad deadpans.
”You wouldn’t,” Ray says. He stops squeaking in his chair and stares at Brad, just daring him. When Brad doesn’t move, he grins wider. “I knew you wouldn’t. You love me and you know it.”
”Just try me, Ray,” Brad mutters tiredly.
For a moment, Ray is quiet, except for the tapping of his ratty sneakers against the carpet. It doesn’t last though, and Ray sucks in a sharp breath before going “Sooo”.
Brad gives up on this being a quiet night, but he doesn’t really mind.
- - -
The further away they get from the center and the closer to Ray’s place they get, the more the atmosphere in the Jeep changes. Ray’s light hearted banter falls to short, terse sentences until he’s as quiet as Brad is.
Brad can only tolerate the swish of the wipers for so long before he gives in and sighs. “Ray,” he says, and what he means is, what’s wrong?
”Can I maybe come home with you tonight?” Ray asks. He doesn’t look at Brad, choosing to stare out the window instead. As impassive as he tries to keep his expression, his voice is kind of meek, and Brad can see the way his fingers curl into the fabric of his jeans.
For a moment, Brad is quiet. Ray’s words hurt almost as much as the ones Brad is obligated to say. “You know I can’t let you do that.”
”Just for one night,” Ray says, glancing over at Brad for glancing away. “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll be gone in the morning before school starts.”
”If your parents notice you’re gone, we could both get in a lot of trouble,” Brad says. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, trying to force some of the pent up aggression, but he doesn’t feel any better.
”Like they would even care,” Ray mutters. He’s probably right. Ray’s never outright told Brad, but Brad’s heard enough from when the kids get together to tell their horror stories, and Brad knows how to read between the lines.
Until Ray comes out and says anything is wrong, there’s really nothing for Brad to do. Even Nate can do little more than shuffle his feet and offer platitudes that always fall flat. They’re helpless to do anything until Ray asks for help.
”Ray,” Brad says.
”Forget it,” Ray says. He scrambles for his seatbelt, even though they’re still moving. “You can let me out here. I’ll walk home.”
”Ray,” Brad says again, more forcefully.
”If you don’t stop this fucking car right now I’m going to throw myself out of the window,” Ray spits back. He’s shaking, furious at Brad and himself, and it only serves to set Brad on edge. “I’m perfectly capable of walking home on my own in the dark.”
There’s no choice but for Brad to pull his Jeep over to the curb, because he doesn’t doubt Ray’s convictions even a little. He’s been working at the community center for too long to not take any sort of stupid plans seriously. “We could call Nate.”
”Nate won’t let me sleep on his couch any more than you will yours,” Ray snaps. He falls back into his seat, arms folded over his chest defiantly. He doesn’t flee though, and Brad takes that as a good sign.
Ray is probably right. Then again, Nate is a better person than Brad, so maybe not. Brad relaxes his grip on the steering wheel and slumps back in his seat as well. “Do you want me to take you to your grandmother’s?”
There’s a soft huff of breath from Ray, before he shakes his head. “I’ll go home,” he says quietly. “But if he’s there, I’m going to slash your fucking tires tomorrow.”
Ray doesn’t have to say any names for Brad to know Ray means his mother’s boyfriend. The would-be stepfather of the year. “Call Nate, Ray. Or call me. If something happens, we can come get you.”
”I don’t want to end up in the system like Walt,” Ray says, tipping his head to the side and hiding his face. “I’d rather just deal with this.”
There are so many things Brad wants to say to that, but he doesn’t know where to start. Before he can say any of them though, Ray mutters “can you just take me home now?”
At first, Brad doesn’t respond. He can feel Ray’s frustration building, more than he can see it, and he reaches over to snap Ray’s seatbelt back into place before he pulls off the side of the street and starts to drive. He feels like shit, but he probably deserves it.
- - -
Brad doesn’t know what to do when he gets home. His apartment feels so quiet, despite the soft patter of rain against the windows. He should turn up the heat, maybe, but somehow it’s more satisfying to just collapse back onto his couch and drag the fleece throw off the back to huddle under.
He should call Ray to check in, Brad thinks, but he doesn’t want to hover. The last thing Brad wants to do is lose the trust Ray has in him. Brad needs to trust Ray as much as Ray trusts him.
There’s nothing for Brad to do but turn the TV onto a Mythbusters marathon and stare at the screen blankly until he manages to pass out.
- - -
Brad is back in the computer lab trying to unfuck some of the computers when Ray finds him. He wants to ask why Ray’s not in school, but he spares a glance at a clock and realizes it’s later than he thought.
Ray hands him a to-go cup from Starbucks and Brad knows better than to ask where Ray got the money for it. Today, he’ll let it slide, and accept the peace offering for what it’s worth.
”Wouldn’t you be better off just wiping the systems?” Ray asks, straddling one of the spinning chairs and resting his chin on the back. He toes the ground, spinning slowly, but his eyes never stray from Brad for long.
”Maybe,” Brad says. He rubs under his eyes, where the skin is soft and dark, before sighing in frustration. “But then I have nothing to yell at for the next few hours.”
”You could yell at Poke,” Ray says. “That’s what Gina is doing.”
Brad takes a sip of his coffee - black, because Ray is a good, smart kid - and quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask.”
”Probably the right idea,” Ray hums. He twirls again, slow, before stopping. He reaches out and makes a grabby hand. “I want some of that coffee.”
”Too bad,” Brad replies. He sets it on the desk, out of Ray’s reach.
”I’m telling Gina you’ve got like, contraband in the computer lab,” Ray scowls. He pushes his chair closer, and Brad doesn’t stop Ray from grabbing the coffee to take a sip.
”Gina loves me,” Brad counters. He watches Ray put the coffee back down on the desk, careful not to spill it, before he glances at his computer monitor again.
Ray scoffs and Brad pretends to ignore him. It’s easy to fall into the familiar ease between them, Ray rambling about schoolwork as he does his math and Brad messing with the computers.
For a few hours, nothing else matters and maybe everything isn’t alright in the world, but it’s close enough to count.