GK - The Sea (Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel, PG)
So, I never actually got to use Write or Die, because of alethialia, who is a fucking BAD, err awesome influence. Apparently I have no words unless they involve Layla Colbert Fick. Go figure. This cookie is for A and mydocuments who requested 'children' and 'daughter' in some challenge somewhere. This is a bit bigger than a comment.
Generation Kill
Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel
The Sea
Layla's playing at the water's edge with Samuel, although a more appropriate description would be that Layla's at the water's edge, whacking her cousin with her shovel so he'll help her with her sand castle.
At four Samuel's much more tolerant than Layla is at sixteen months.
Nate should probably put a stop to the assault, but Layla keeps shrieking with glee every time Samuel dumps sand in her lap. If Sammy's trying to get rid of his cousin, he's not trying very hard.
Every now and then a wave comes far enough up the beach that it rushes over the little pile of sand that was Layla's sand castle, and Layla claps as though she's commanded the entire thing to happen.
It's not outside the realm of possibility.
Nate watches as Layla stands up on little brown legs and darts around the surf in her peach-colored swimsuit, white zinc slathered all over her nose and cheeks. She wanted the swimsuit with ruffles; Brad agreed. He had nothing to do with it.
It's amazing how fast she's gone from crawling and babbling to foot mobile and very vocal. "Daddy! Daddy" she shrieks, waving her red plastic shovel excitedly at Nate. "Lookit!"
"Layla, be careful with that," Nate warns as she nearly beheads Samuel.
Layla gives him a toothy grin before she drops back down and dumps sand on Sammy's leg.
Nate shakes his head with a smile, shifting under their beach umbrella before going back to pretending to read the potential precincts reports that his exploratory team has assembled.
The run won't happen for a few years yet, he wants Layla in preschool first, but it's never too early for groundwork.
First, city council, and then Congress, and then the Senate, and after that. Well, Layla should be ready for middle school at least. It'll be a better time to move across the country.
A sharp shriek grabs his attention, and he's just in time to see Layla run as fast as her chubby legs will take her out to where Brad's coming in with his surfboard.
Layla may have excitement on her side, but Nate's got longer legs, faster reflexes and Iraq on his side. He dashes across the sand and scoops Layla up before she's more than four inches into the surf.
Layla looses another happy shriek as Nate scoops her up in his arms like a runaway lamb. "Where do you think you're going?" Nate says, tickling her as she kicks gleefully.
"I keep telling you it's time for her to get her own surfboard," Brad says, brushing the water from his face.
Nate makes a dismissive noise, but Brad's grin is huge. Nate rolls his eyes. He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
Some people get better with age. Some people look better with sun. And then there are people like Brad, who just need to dial back the hotness for the rest of the mortals.
Layla twists in his grasp, making grabby motions at Brad when he leans down. "Layla wants to swim with me, don't you, Princess?"
Layla giggles as Brad shakes his head and droplets of water fly all over them. The water dries the second it hits Nate's skin; he should get in the water, too. It's hot out today; he could stand to cool off.
Nate glances down at where Layla's whacking him on the arm. "We swim, Daddy?" she asks, looking up at him expectantly.
Nate blinks, looking out at the blueish-grey Newport water and not at the water droplets rolling down Brad's bare chest.
How parents manage to raise children while dying for a fuck, he has no idea.
Brad's mouth twitches at the right corner as though he can read Nate's mind, then again, Nate's not trying very hard to hide his thoughts.
"Nate," Brad mocks. "I'm shocked you would even entertain such thoughts in front of our daughter at her impressionable age."
Nate snorts, holding a wriggling Layla a little more firmly. "When she can spell 'innuendo,' I'll worry. Until then I think we're going to go for a swim, and you're going to watch your nephew."
Brad considers this for a moment. "Sammy," he calls. "You ready to learn how to surf?"
Samuel jumps to his feet, rushing out to where they're standing, the surf washing over their feet. "Really, Uncle Brad?" he asks.
Brad's sister, Sharon, has been pretty adamant about Sammy being too small to learn how to surf. Nate should point this out. "Brad, you know what your sister said."
"Are you nagging me, wife?" Brad teases.
Nate snorts. "If I was your wife, I'd be the best wife ever."
Brad grins. "The best slutty wife ever," he corrects, scratching his head, the sun glinting off of the silver ring on his left hand.
Nate can feel his face -- and a few other things -- getting warm. Dammit.
Layla's squirms. "Down now," she demands.
Oh, thank god.
Nate means to look disapproving. He knows he does; he just can't manage it with Brad giving him that look. He shakes his head and lets Layla down onto her feet, making sure to hold her hand.
"If Sammy breaks his nose, and Sharon wants your blood, just remember it's not my fault," Nate says as Layla kicks water everywhere.
"If Sharon wants me for anything, I think she's going to have agree to watch Layla tonight, first," Brad says, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Nate licks his lips. "I could support that initiative."
"It's a good initiative," Brad agrees.
"Uncle Brad?" Sammy interrupts. "Are we going to surf now?"
"In a minute, Sammy," Brad says, shifting his surfboard a little and stepping forward.
Nate chuckles, shaking his head.
Layla's tugging at his hand, even as Brad leans in. "Now, Daddy!" she insists, and they both glance at her for a moment, sharing a brief, indulgent grin.
"So, you and me tonight?" Nate inquires. "No kids?"
Brad's eyes are bright. "We could play Recon Marines," he says, his mouth a breath away from Nate's.
Nate's laugh is swallowed up by a quick kiss, followed rather spectacularly by Layla stepping on his foot. "Now, Daddy!" she orders.
"Jesus!" Brad bitches lightly. "Kids."
Nate grins sharply. "Imagine if we had more than one."
Brad's eyes go wide. "That's a joke I hope."
Nate shrugs, scooping up Layla again to take her a little further out. "Could be," he tosses over his shoulder.
"You're going to have to put out a lot more for another kid," Brad calls.
"Put out what?" Sammy asks.
Nate's too busy laughing to hear Brad's reply.
-end-
Generation Kill
Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel
The Sea
Layla's playing at the water's edge with Samuel, although a more appropriate description would be that Layla's at the water's edge, whacking her cousin with her shovel so he'll help her with her sand castle.
At four Samuel's much more tolerant than Layla is at sixteen months.
Nate should probably put a stop to the assault, but Layla keeps shrieking with glee every time Samuel dumps sand in her lap. If Sammy's trying to get rid of his cousin, he's not trying very hard.
Every now and then a wave comes far enough up the beach that it rushes over the little pile of sand that was Layla's sand castle, and Layla claps as though she's commanded the entire thing to happen.
It's not outside the realm of possibility.
Nate watches as Layla stands up on little brown legs and darts around the surf in her peach-colored swimsuit, white zinc slathered all over her nose and cheeks. She wanted the swimsuit with ruffles; Brad agreed. He had nothing to do with it.
It's amazing how fast she's gone from crawling and babbling to foot mobile and very vocal. "Daddy! Daddy" she shrieks, waving her red plastic shovel excitedly at Nate. "Lookit!"
"Layla, be careful with that," Nate warns as she nearly beheads Samuel.
Layla gives him a toothy grin before she drops back down and dumps sand on Sammy's leg.
Nate shakes his head with a smile, shifting under their beach umbrella before going back to pretending to read the potential precincts reports that his exploratory team has assembled.
The run won't happen for a few years yet, he wants Layla in preschool first, but it's never too early for groundwork.
First, city council, and then Congress, and then the Senate, and after that. Well, Layla should be ready for middle school at least. It'll be a better time to move across the country.
A sharp shriek grabs his attention, and he's just in time to see Layla run as fast as her chubby legs will take her out to where Brad's coming in with his surfboard.
Layla may have excitement on her side, but Nate's got longer legs, faster reflexes and Iraq on his side. He dashes across the sand and scoops Layla up before she's more than four inches into the surf.
Layla looses another happy shriek as Nate scoops her up in his arms like a runaway lamb. "Where do you think you're going?" Nate says, tickling her as she kicks gleefully.
"I keep telling you it's time for her to get her own surfboard," Brad says, brushing the water from his face.
Nate makes a dismissive noise, but Brad's grin is huge. Nate rolls his eyes. He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
Some people get better with age. Some people look better with sun. And then there are people like Brad, who just need to dial back the hotness for the rest of the mortals.
Layla twists in his grasp, making grabby motions at Brad when he leans down. "Layla wants to swim with me, don't you, Princess?"
Layla giggles as Brad shakes his head and droplets of water fly all over them. The water dries the second it hits Nate's skin; he should get in the water, too. It's hot out today; he could stand to cool off.
Nate glances down at where Layla's whacking him on the arm. "We swim, Daddy?" she asks, looking up at him expectantly.
Nate blinks, looking out at the blueish-grey Newport water and not at the water droplets rolling down Brad's bare chest.
How parents manage to raise children while dying for a fuck, he has no idea.
Brad's mouth twitches at the right corner as though he can read Nate's mind, then again, Nate's not trying very hard to hide his thoughts.
"Nate," Brad mocks. "I'm shocked you would even entertain such thoughts in front of our daughter at her impressionable age."
Nate snorts, holding a wriggling Layla a little more firmly. "When she can spell 'innuendo,' I'll worry. Until then I think we're going to go for a swim, and you're going to watch your nephew."
Brad considers this for a moment. "Sammy," he calls. "You ready to learn how to surf?"
Samuel jumps to his feet, rushing out to where they're standing, the surf washing over their feet. "Really, Uncle Brad?" he asks.
Brad's sister, Sharon, has been pretty adamant about Sammy being too small to learn how to surf. Nate should point this out. "Brad, you know what your sister said."
"Are you nagging me, wife?" Brad teases.
Nate snorts. "If I was your wife, I'd be the best wife ever."
Brad grins. "The best slutty wife ever," he corrects, scratching his head, the sun glinting off of the silver ring on his left hand.
Nate can feel his face -- and a few other things -- getting warm. Dammit.
Layla's squirms. "Down now," she demands.
Oh, thank god.
Nate means to look disapproving. He knows he does; he just can't manage it with Brad giving him that look. He shakes his head and lets Layla down onto her feet, making sure to hold her hand.
"If Sammy breaks his nose, and Sharon wants your blood, just remember it's not my fault," Nate says as Layla kicks water everywhere.
"If Sharon wants me for anything, I think she's going to have agree to watch Layla tonight, first," Brad says, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Nate licks his lips. "I could support that initiative."
"It's a good initiative," Brad agrees.
"Uncle Brad?" Sammy interrupts. "Are we going to surf now?"
"In a minute, Sammy," Brad says, shifting his surfboard a little and stepping forward.
Nate chuckles, shaking his head.
Layla's tugging at his hand, even as Brad leans in. "Now, Daddy!" she insists, and they both glance at her for a moment, sharing a brief, indulgent grin.
"So, you and me tonight?" Nate inquires. "No kids?"
Brad's eyes are bright. "We could play Recon Marines," he says, his mouth a breath away from Nate's.
Nate's laugh is swallowed up by a quick kiss, followed rather spectacularly by Layla stepping on his foot. "Now, Daddy!" she orders.
"Jesus!" Brad bitches lightly. "Kids."
Nate grins sharply. "Imagine if we had more than one."
Brad's eyes go wide. "That's a joke I hope."
Nate shrugs, scooping up Layla again to take her a little further out. "Could be," he tosses over his shoulder.
"You're going to have to put out a lot more for another kid," Brad calls.
"Put out what?" Sammy asks.
Nate's too busy laughing to hear Brad's reply.
-end-