GK, Frame by Frame, 1/1, PG13, Brad/Nate, 614
Title: Frame by Frame
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert, Nate Fick (Brad/Nate)
Warning(s): AU
Spoiler(s): None
Word Count: 614
Master List: advent
Notes: Part of the dancer!Nate AU that is here. For kari_hermione. Here's an AU neither of us thought of last night. :)
Summary: Brad comes to the studio with Nate just to watch him dance sometimes, without the lights and the noise.
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.
There’s snow outside, turning to slush in the streets even as it continues to fall, but it’s nice and warm in the studio. The mirrored walls freak Brad out a little bit, reflecting everything so crisply, but it gives him something to focus on while Nate is stretching.
It’s hard for Brad to watch Nate sometimes. He wants to touch, more than he should, but he can’t help it. Nate’s hips are slim, his tights leave nothing to the imagination, and he can tuck his ankle behind his head. It freaked Brad out at first, but Ray pointed out think of all the possibilities! and now Brad wants to know exactly how far Nate can bend.
The radio on the far wall croons softly, won’t give you money, I can’t give you the sky, you’re better off if you don’t ask why and Brad is so busy staring at his reflection he almost misses Nate’s soft voice singing along, I’m not the reason that you go astray and we’ll be alright if you don’t ask me to stay.
It’s all very stupid, Brad thinks. Nate’s black tights, his voice, the way his eyes shine with silent laughter whenever Brad makes a face at him, it’s too much. Brad didn’t ask for this and he certainly doesn’t want to deal with it and yet… Brad’s had plenty of opportunity to go elsewhere, and yet here he is, at ass o’clock in the morning with his camera to watch Nate warm up.
They don’t talk, but they don’t need to. They should, maybe, but Nate isn’t bothered by Brad’s silence like most people are. He doesn’t seem compelled to drag Brad into conversations like Ray does, or shift uncomfortably like Walt. It’s nice. It works for them.
Nate makes a sound when he’s done stretching, pushing away from the bar and spinning easily - Brad used to think he was showing off, but he knows better now. Nate likes to spin, is stupidly good at it and never gets dizzy and his smile - his smile in blinding in a way that makes Brad’s heart ache.
They kissed, once, after one of Nate’s shows. It was snowing and he tasted like champagne and Brad wanted to get lost in that moment, wanted to cup Nate’s face in his hands and hold onto him forever. He didn’t though, and now he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance again.
”You don’t have to stay with me, Brad,” Nate says, amused quirk to his lips. “I don’t think anyone is going to find me in here and catch me off guard.”
It’s not entirely true. If anyone was looking for Nate, this well-worn studio would be the first place anyone that knew him would look, even before his apartment and the stupid frozen yogurt place he always insists they stop by. Nate’s got amazing situational awareness though and he’s very rarely startled.
”I just want to watch,” Brad says, and he means without the music and the lights and the entourage of girls he’s usually flocked with. He wants to watch Nate, not Nathaniel Fick the rising star. The boy he maybe accidentally fell in love with, despite the walls he put between them and the flash of his camera.
Nate just smiles at him though, warm and familiar, but he doesn’t say another word. He fiddles with the stereo system until something classical starts playing, though Brad has no idea what, before moving back to his spot. He waits a beat, foot tapping against the ground, counting cadence or whatever Nate calls it when he’s prancing around in tights.
Finally, Nate starts to dance and Brad can’t look away.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert, Nate Fick (Brad/Nate)
Warning(s): AU
Spoiler(s): None
Word Count: 614
Master List: advent
Notes: Part of the dancer!Nate AU that is here. For kari_hermione. Here's an AU neither of us thought of last night. :)
Summary: Brad comes to the studio with Nate just to watch him dance sometimes, without the lights and the noise.
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.
There’s snow outside, turning to slush in the streets even as it continues to fall, but it’s nice and warm in the studio. The mirrored walls freak Brad out a little bit, reflecting everything so crisply, but it gives him something to focus on while Nate is stretching.
It’s hard for Brad to watch Nate sometimes. He wants to touch, more than he should, but he can’t help it. Nate’s hips are slim, his tights leave nothing to the imagination, and he can tuck his ankle behind his head. It freaked Brad out at first, but Ray pointed out think of all the possibilities! and now Brad wants to know exactly how far Nate can bend.
The radio on the far wall croons softly, won’t give you money, I can’t give you the sky, you’re better off if you don’t ask why and Brad is so busy staring at his reflection he almost misses Nate’s soft voice singing along, I’m not the reason that you go astray and we’ll be alright if you don’t ask me to stay.
It’s all very stupid, Brad thinks. Nate’s black tights, his voice, the way his eyes shine with silent laughter whenever Brad makes a face at him, it’s too much. Brad didn’t ask for this and he certainly doesn’t want to deal with it and yet… Brad’s had plenty of opportunity to go elsewhere, and yet here he is, at ass o’clock in the morning with his camera to watch Nate warm up.
They don’t talk, but they don’t need to. They should, maybe, but Nate isn’t bothered by Brad’s silence like most people are. He doesn’t seem compelled to drag Brad into conversations like Ray does, or shift uncomfortably like Walt. It’s nice. It works for them.
Nate makes a sound when he’s done stretching, pushing away from the bar and spinning easily - Brad used to think he was showing off, but he knows better now. Nate likes to spin, is stupidly good at it and never gets dizzy and his smile - his smile in blinding in a way that makes Brad’s heart ache.
They kissed, once, after one of Nate’s shows. It was snowing and he tasted like champagne and Brad wanted to get lost in that moment, wanted to cup Nate’s face in his hands and hold onto him forever. He didn’t though, and now he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance again.
”You don’t have to stay with me, Brad,” Nate says, amused quirk to his lips. “I don’t think anyone is going to find me in here and catch me off guard.”
It’s not entirely true. If anyone was looking for Nate, this well-worn studio would be the first place anyone that knew him would look, even before his apartment and the stupid frozen yogurt place he always insists they stop by. Nate’s got amazing situational awareness though and he’s very rarely startled.
”I just want to watch,” Brad says, and he means without the music and the lights and the entourage of girls he’s usually flocked with. He wants to watch Nate, not Nathaniel Fick the rising star. The boy he maybe accidentally fell in love with, despite the walls he put between them and the flash of his camera.
Nate just smiles at him though, warm and familiar, but he doesn’t say another word. He fiddles with the stereo system until something classical starts playing, though Brad has no idea what, before moving back to his spot. He waits a beat, foot tapping against the ground, counting cadence or whatever Nate calls it when he’s prancing around in tights.
Finally, Nate starts to dance and Brad can’t look away.