Nate Fick's Trick
You know, I really should be attending to one of the Big Damn Epic tales...but instead I wrote this...
Title: Trick
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Generation Kill”
Pairing: pre-slash Colbert/Fick
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG-13 for language
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom…I think that says it all.
~x~x~
“Hey Brad, do you want to see me do a trick?”
Nate’s eyes were gleaming in the garish light of the neon sign above their heads but the wattage behind his smile was even brighter and it caught Brad’s heart in his throat to look at the pretty picture Nate made. Sandy hair tousled, green eyes blazing: Nate was almost as intoxicating as the cheap beer and whiskey Brad had been gulping down all night.
It was a strange thing, seeing Nate Fick drunk.
A drunk Nate smiled more, in and open and unguarded way that was without a sober Nate’s usual glibness or reserve. He talked about the things he was passionate about (mostly politics and history and the military) and vibrated with idealism. A drunk Nate’s bangs kept falling down into his eyes and he kept brushing them back in a way that made Brad want to reach out and smooth the errant hair back for him. He made comments about how blue Brad’s eyes were and asked questions about everywhere Brad had been. A drunk Nate stood closer and when he tilted his face up to look Brad in the eye it was an exercise in self control not to just loop an arm around his waist and pull him in for a kiss.
Brad Colbert polished off another shot of Jack Daniels. The situation was seriously fucked…but there wasn’t any other place he wanted to be. Less than half a year ago he’d been pining for his ex-girlfriend who’d dumped him six years earlier and now? Now he was pining after the guy he’d ran into on the way to see said ex-girlfriend. Life had a cruel and ironic sense of humor. Brad had never considered himself anything other than heterosexual in the past. Then again, he’d never met a guy that made his heart soar like Nate, either.
So, as aforementioned: fucked, completely and totally.
Nate Fick - the shining star of an Ivy collegiate was a good little academic who used to be in the Boy Scouts and walked the straight edge. The fact that he was now sitting in some seedy little bar getting wasted on a parade of Southern Comfort and coke was almost too much for Brad to handle. Especially when the introduction of liquor seemed to make Nate throw all sense of personal space out the window and move as near to Brad as he could without actually crawling into the older man’s lap.
It had been five months since they first met and one month since they became roommates. Brad didn’t have many people that he could honestly call friends. If he counted them all on one hand he’d still have fingers left over. (Ray Person, Poke Espera, Eric Kocher) But more and more Brad had been including Nate Fick on that list, even if they did seem so diametrically opposed that some consider it nothing short of a miracle that they enjoyed spending so much time together. Brad just shrugged that off, though.
None of them knew what it was like to look into those expressive eyes or talk about anything and everything until the cows came home. None of them knew how he felt.
Brad Colbert smirked, shaking his head at the younger man. “What kind of trick do you think you can show me, Nathaniel Fick?”
Nate arched an eyebrow at the use of his full name; Brad just did it to get under his skin. He grinned then, mischievous in a way that Brad hadn’t ever seen in him while sober and reached into one of the empty glasses on the table. He fished a long-stemmed cherry out from the ice and held it aloft.
“Watch and see,” Nate said.
He placed the cherry delicately on the tip of his outstretched tongue and that image alone sent a shudder of drunken desire through Brad’s system. Nate curled his tongue, taking the cherry into his mouth - stem and all - and proceeded to chew. Brad’s eyes were transfixed on Nate’s lips as they moved. He wanted to taste them, to pry them open with his own tongue. About three days into their acquaintanceship Brad had accepted the fact that Nate’s mouth was sinfully pretty. That didn’t make things any easier. Exactly 42 seconds later Nate flicked his tongue back out and revealed the cherry stem tied in a perfect little knot.
“Ta-da,” Nate announced cheerfully, holding the cherry stem knot aloft for Brad to see, clearly pleased with himself. “What do you think of that trick?”
What did Brad think? Brad thought that he wanted to push Nate up against the wall and kiss him like the world was ending around them. He thought about the friendship they’d formed and how he didn’t want to mess things up because of some seriously conflicted shit going on in his own head. He thought that what he was thinking was not the sort of thing he should’ve been thinking. It was enough to give a man a headache…or blue balls.
But Brad smiled at Nate because it was impossible not to. “Nice one,” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
Nate grinned back, happy as a clam.
It was at that point that Brad started thinking the real trick was going to be living with Nate for a couple more months without crossing that line and kissing him.
Oh, those silly boys...
Title: Trick
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Generation Kill”
Pairing: pre-slash Colbert/Fick
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG-13 for language
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom…I think that says it all.
~x~x~
“Hey Brad, do you want to see me do a trick?”
Nate’s eyes were gleaming in the garish light of the neon sign above their heads but the wattage behind his smile was even brighter and it caught Brad’s heart in his throat to look at the pretty picture Nate made. Sandy hair tousled, green eyes blazing: Nate was almost as intoxicating as the cheap beer and whiskey Brad had been gulping down all night.
It was a strange thing, seeing Nate Fick drunk.
A drunk Nate smiled more, in and open and unguarded way that was without a sober Nate’s usual glibness or reserve. He talked about the things he was passionate about (mostly politics and history and the military) and vibrated with idealism. A drunk Nate’s bangs kept falling down into his eyes and he kept brushing them back in a way that made Brad want to reach out and smooth the errant hair back for him. He made comments about how blue Brad’s eyes were and asked questions about everywhere Brad had been. A drunk Nate stood closer and when he tilted his face up to look Brad in the eye it was an exercise in self control not to just loop an arm around his waist and pull him in for a kiss.
Brad Colbert polished off another shot of Jack Daniels. The situation was seriously fucked…but there wasn’t any other place he wanted to be. Less than half a year ago he’d been pining for his ex-girlfriend who’d dumped him six years earlier and now? Now he was pining after the guy he’d ran into on the way to see said ex-girlfriend. Life had a cruel and ironic sense of humor. Brad had never considered himself anything other than heterosexual in the past. Then again, he’d never met a guy that made his heart soar like Nate, either.
So, as aforementioned: fucked, completely and totally.
Nate Fick - the shining star of an Ivy collegiate was a good little academic who used to be in the Boy Scouts and walked the straight edge. The fact that he was now sitting in some seedy little bar getting wasted on a parade of Southern Comfort and coke was almost too much for Brad to handle. Especially when the introduction of liquor seemed to make Nate throw all sense of personal space out the window and move as near to Brad as he could without actually crawling into the older man’s lap.
It had been five months since they first met and one month since they became roommates. Brad didn’t have many people that he could honestly call friends. If he counted them all on one hand he’d still have fingers left over. (Ray Person, Poke Espera, Eric Kocher) But more and more Brad had been including Nate Fick on that list, even if they did seem so diametrically opposed that some consider it nothing short of a miracle that they enjoyed spending so much time together. Brad just shrugged that off, though.
None of them knew what it was like to look into those expressive eyes or talk about anything and everything until the cows came home. None of them knew how he felt.
Brad Colbert smirked, shaking his head at the younger man. “What kind of trick do you think you can show me, Nathaniel Fick?”
Nate arched an eyebrow at the use of his full name; Brad just did it to get under his skin. He grinned then, mischievous in a way that Brad hadn’t ever seen in him while sober and reached into one of the empty glasses on the table. He fished a long-stemmed cherry out from the ice and held it aloft.
“Watch and see,” Nate said.
He placed the cherry delicately on the tip of his outstretched tongue and that image alone sent a shudder of drunken desire through Brad’s system. Nate curled his tongue, taking the cherry into his mouth - stem and all - and proceeded to chew. Brad’s eyes were transfixed on Nate’s lips as they moved. He wanted to taste them, to pry them open with his own tongue. About three days into their acquaintanceship Brad had accepted the fact that Nate’s mouth was sinfully pretty. That didn’t make things any easier. Exactly 42 seconds later Nate flicked his tongue back out and revealed the cherry stem tied in a perfect little knot.
“Ta-da,” Nate announced cheerfully, holding the cherry stem knot aloft for Brad to see, clearly pleased with himself. “What do you think of that trick?”
What did Brad think? Brad thought that he wanted to push Nate up against the wall and kiss him like the world was ending around them. He thought about the friendship they’d formed and how he didn’t want to mess things up because of some seriously conflicted shit going on in his own head. He thought that what he was thinking was not the sort of thing he should’ve been thinking. It was enough to give a man a headache…or blue balls.
But Brad smiled at Nate because it was impossible not to. “Nice one,” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
Nate grinned back, happy as a clam.
It was at that point that Brad started thinking the real trick was going to be living with Nate for a couple more months without crossing that line and kissing him.
Oh, those silly boys...