Generation Kill - Perfect Opening Line (Nate/Brad, Nate/OCs - PG-13)
I loved writing this. Not bad for an hour and a half.
For sparky77 based on an earlier conversation. The first night of Hanukkah isn't until the 12th, but you know how I like to be early ;-)
Generation Kill
Nate/Brad, Nate/OCs
Rated PG-13
Perfect Opening Line
The fluorescent lights of the local grocery store give everything a slightly sickly tint. Nate pauses by the sliding doors to scan the AO and plan his best course of action.
The recycled air makes the hairs on his forearms stand up and the handle of the plastic basket is cool in the circle of his hand. He just avoids being run over by an elderly woman doing at least 5mph in her motorized wheelchair.
Nate has a mental list of what he's supposed to pick up since the physical list mysteriously went missing this morning. It probably fell between the stove and the counter like most things do. Pens, pencils, receipts, pizza fliers and condoms all seem to just disappear once they get to the kitchen.
Thankfully, it's easy to start with the most important item on the list first: beer.
The liquor aisle is about forty feet long and features a long refrigerated section on one side and wine on the other. Nate stops somewhere between the domestic and imported beers and narrows his eyes searchingly.
"I like a good Mexican beer myself," a low, decidedly male voice offers on Nate's right.
Nate looks over into brown eyes, long lashes and a lean body. Runner definitely. Possibly a soccer player. Nate's mouth curls into a smile. "Yeah, I'm a fan of Modelo myself," he agrees.
"Not Corona though," the guy says sagely. "That tastes like carbonated water."
Nate chuckles. "Agreed," he says, before leaning forward and selecting a six pack of Singha.
"Wow," Nate's new friend says. "Thai beer. I'm impressed."
Nate just raises a silent eyebrow.
"I like a guy with expansive tastes," the man explains after a pause and a shy smile. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to share that with me?"
"Sorry," Nate says apologetically. "I don't think I can do that."
The guy shrugs. "I had to try. I'm Andy, though, and if you change your mind, I'll be shopping for at least another 15 minutes."
Nate laughs as he brushes by Andy. "I'll remember that," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away.
At the end of the aisle, Nate eyes a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio. It should go really well with the fish that's marinating at home, so he grabs it.
He also picks up two packages of organic chicken breasts while walking past the pet food section, the baby aisle and the feminine napkins. There are certain items Nate will never need to buy -- plus, he gets the dog food for Rufus from Costco.
He heads up the cereal aisle to get some oatmeal and grabs one box of Cheerios and another of Coco Puffs. Just because.
He pauses by the hot cereals, looking from the Irish porridge to the organic oatmeal. The Irish porridge is a little rough for his tastes but the organic oatmeal is like swallowing a bag of prunes.
"The organic oatmeal is really cleansing," a perky voice claims over Nate's shoulder.
Nate glances behind him and downwards into the bright blue eyes of what he presumes is a yoga teacher. The yoga mat strapped to her back and the cotton and spandex outfit she's wearing strongly support this conclusion.
"Really?" he says politely after turning around.
"Oh, absolutely," the woman says, nodding a lot. The yoga teacher has blonde curly hair pulled back in a ponytail and very impressive biceps.
She takes a step forward into Nate's personal space. "If you're into fiber, you should also try the Kashi cereal. Kashi is amazing."
Nate's had Kashi before at Rudy's behest and he agrees. Kashi is amazing - amazingly like chewing on a paper towel.
"…after all your body is a temple and we must all worship our temples." The yoga teacher is talking rapidly; she reminds Nate a little of Ray to be honest.
"Right," Nate says, catching a glimpse of a familiar red and blue container out the corner of his eye. He turns away and grabs a box of 1-Minute Instant Quaker Oatmeal.
"Oh, you don't want that," the yoga teacher insists. "Quaker Oats is over processed. You really should try something-"
"This is fine," Nate interrupts firmly. "Thanks for your help though."
"Oh," the yoga teacher's face falls. "Okay, but if you change your mind about the oatmeal or if you ever want to change your eating habits you can call me." She whips a business card out of somewhere on her person, which takes Nate a little off-guard considering how form-fitting her clothes are.
Nate takes the card. Cindy Hermon.
Of course she's a Cindy.
"Thanks," Nate says again before walking away brusquely.
"I didn't get your name!" she calls after him.
Nate smiles to himself. No, she didn't.
Two aisles over, Nate picks up a large frozen pizza and a quart of Haagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream. He leaves Cindy's business card between the coffee ice cream and the vanilla. No need to go looking for trouble.
He moves further down the aisle, pausing before the place where the Eggo waffles should be. The case is empty. Nate looks on either side of the case. There's the store's generic brand, but he wants the Eggo brand. He does have some consumer loyalty.
"There was some issue at the factory and they've stopped making Eggos."
Nate turns towards the warm tone on his right and looks down. Dark eyes, caramel colored skin. If her hair weren't so short he would think Zoe Saldana was hitting on him. Wow.
"What?" he says a bit stupidly.
The Zoe look-alike offers him a broad smile. "I know," she laughs. "That's what I said."
"They're not making them anymore?" he asks in disbelief.
"They are, but there was a flood at the factory in Atlanta." Not-Zoe points to a piece of paper taped to the top of right corner of one of the display cases. "So, we're all pretty much out of luck until next year."
"It's always something," Nate says.
Not-Zoe nods. "I'm thinking I may have to actually invest in a waffle maker. Or maybe I'll take your suggestion and just get some oatmeal," she says, tapping at Nate's basket.
Nate looks at exposed forearms and long fingers. Jesus Christ, he has to get a grip.
"If you get the oatmeal, you should probably get the ice cream, too," he says, gesturing towards the Haagen-Dazs. "For balance."
"I like the way you think." A pause. "I don't suppose you'd want to share yours with me, would you?"
Nate sighs ruefully. "I wish I could, but…"
"The second spoon has already been claimed."
"Pretty much."
"Well, good for her." A pause and a sly smile. "Or him," Not-Zoe says before walking off.
Nate watches her go. He's not dead.
After a few moments, Nate moves on. In the next aisle he picks up three cans of Beefaroni, two cans of peaches and some chili.
He bypasses the household cleaning items, because, again, Costco takes care of that.
He grabs a dozen eggs and realizes he really should've gotten a cart. He hasn't even hit the produce section yet and his handbasket is already overflowing.
He sets his basket on the floor, bends over to rearrange it and somebody gropes his ass.
Nate stands up abruptly, but when he looks around there are only soccer moms, balding men and adolescent girls. Nate pauses and does another survey of his environs and then he sees her: the 60-something woman with the dyed red hair winking at him.
Jesus.
Nate scoops up his basket and heads directly for produce. Do not pass go; do not get groped by women his mother's age. He's so scandalized that he picks six Granny Smith apples instead of the Gala apples right next to them.
He shakes it off, though, and moves on to the bananas. He needs at least five, and then he needs to get some broccoli and red cabbage and --
"Do you like your bananas longer or wider?" an impossibly sexy voice inquires in Nate's right ear.
Nate smirks down at the ripe banana in his head. "Why do I have to choose?" he asks, turning to look into familiar blue eyes.
Brad's mouth quirks at the corners. "Just like a Marine Corps officer: totally unable to make a fucking choice."
Nate looks Brad up and down blatantly. "I think I make pretty good choices to be honest."
"Yeah, you would."
Nate shrugs. "I haven't had any complaints from management."
"I don't think you'll be getting any either." Brad pokes his tongue into the corner of his jaw rather obviously and Nate has to laugh.
"That was a pretty bad pick up line," Nate says thoughtfully. "But I think I'll let you try again, since you're kind of hot."
Brad raises an eyebrow. "Just 'kind of hot'? Thanks. I'm touched."
Nate smiles beatifically. "Kind of hot in that 'you're absolutely gorgeous' way," he amends.
There's a flush of color in Brad's cheeks; Nate's duly pleased. "Are you what happened to my shopping list?" he asks mock accusingly, motioning at the paper clutched in Brad's left hand and the shopping cart just behind him.
"Guilty as charged, sir," Brad says solemnly. "Are you going to NJP me?"
Nate looks up at Brad from underneath his eyelashes, watching the flare of heat surge in Brad's eyes. "I don't think the Corps would approve of my idea of punishment."
"Then we should leave before they find out," Brad says.
"I knew there was a reason I followed you into war."
"I thought it was the other way around."
"Well, you were driving."
Brad's smile has too many teeth. When he runs a finger down the back of Nate's hand, the resulting heat blazes up Nate's arm, down his chest and straight to his cock.
"While I am perfectly happy to talk about the superiority of my leadership skills at any given time," Brad says, "I'm much more interested in the superiority of your fucking skills. Are you ready to go?"
"Always," Nate says, leading the way towards the checkout area.
Nate looks around as Brad's loading items from the basket and cart onto the conveyor belt. Andy, Cindy and Not-Zoe are all in the checkout lane one over and Nate can't help smiling as they eyeball him expectantly.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Brad looks over at him quizzically. "Private joke?"
Nate leans in very close to whisper in Brad's ear. "No," he says, placing a proprietary hand on Brad's shoulder. "Just glad you're here."
-end-
For sparky77. I think you know what you have to do next time
And yes, Virginia, there really is an Eggo shortage.
For sparky77 based on an earlier conversation. The first night of Hanukkah isn't until the 12th, but you know how I like to be early ;-)
Generation Kill
Nate/Brad, Nate/OCs
Rated PG-13
Perfect Opening Line
The fluorescent lights of the local grocery store give everything a slightly sickly tint. Nate pauses by the sliding doors to scan the AO and plan his best course of action.
The recycled air makes the hairs on his forearms stand up and the handle of the plastic basket is cool in the circle of his hand. He just avoids being run over by an elderly woman doing at least 5mph in her motorized wheelchair.
Nate has a mental list of what he's supposed to pick up since the physical list mysteriously went missing this morning. It probably fell between the stove and the counter like most things do. Pens, pencils, receipts, pizza fliers and condoms all seem to just disappear once they get to the kitchen.
Thankfully, it's easy to start with the most important item on the list first: beer.
The liquor aisle is about forty feet long and features a long refrigerated section on one side and wine on the other. Nate stops somewhere between the domestic and imported beers and narrows his eyes searchingly.
"I like a good Mexican beer myself," a low, decidedly male voice offers on Nate's right.
Nate looks over into brown eyes, long lashes and a lean body. Runner definitely. Possibly a soccer player. Nate's mouth curls into a smile. "Yeah, I'm a fan of Modelo myself," he agrees.
"Not Corona though," the guy says sagely. "That tastes like carbonated water."
Nate chuckles. "Agreed," he says, before leaning forward and selecting a six pack of Singha.
"Wow," Nate's new friend says. "Thai beer. I'm impressed."
Nate just raises a silent eyebrow.
"I like a guy with expansive tastes," the man explains after a pause and a shy smile. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to share that with me?"
"Sorry," Nate says apologetically. "I don't think I can do that."
The guy shrugs. "I had to try. I'm Andy, though, and if you change your mind, I'll be shopping for at least another 15 minutes."
Nate laughs as he brushes by Andy. "I'll remember that," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away.
At the end of the aisle, Nate eyes a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio. It should go really well with the fish that's marinating at home, so he grabs it.
He also picks up two packages of organic chicken breasts while walking past the pet food section, the baby aisle and the feminine napkins. There are certain items Nate will never need to buy -- plus, he gets the dog food for Rufus from Costco.
He heads up the cereal aisle to get some oatmeal and grabs one box of Cheerios and another of Coco Puffs. Just because.
He pauses by the hot cereals, looking from the Irish porridge to the organic oatmeal. The Irish porridge is a little rough for his tastes but the organic oatmeal is like swallowing a bag of prunes.
"The organic oatmeal is really cleansing," a perky voice claims over Nate's shoulder.
Nate glances behind him and downwards into the bright blue eyes of what he presumes is a yoga teacher. The yoga mat strapped to her back and the cotton and spandex outfit she's wearing strongly support this conclusion.
"Really?" he says politely after turning around.
"Oh, absolutely," the woman says, nodding a lot. The yoga teacher has blonde curly hair pulled back in a ponytail and very impressive biceps.
She takes a step forward into Nate's personal space. "If you're into fiber, you should also try the Kashi cereal. Kashi is amazing."
Nate's had Kashi before at Rudy's behest and he agrees. Kashi is amazing - amazingly like chewing on a paper towel.
"…after all your body is a temple and we must all worship our temples." The yoga teacher is talking rapidly; she reminds Nate a little of Ray to be honest.
"Right," Nate says, catching a glimpse of a familiar red and blue container out the corner of his eye. He turns away and grabs a box of 1-Minute Instant Quaker Oatmeal.
"Oh, you don't want that," the yoga teacher insists. "Quaker Oats is over processed. You really should try something-"
"This is fine," Nate interrupts firmly. "Thanks for your help though."
"Oh," the yoga teacher's face falls. "Okay, but if you change your mind about the oatmeal or if you ever want to change your eating habits you can call me." She whips a business card out of somewhere on her person, which takes Nate a little off-guard considering how form-fitting her clothes are.
Nate takes the card. Cindy Hermon.
Of course she's a Cindy.
"Thanks," Nate says again before walking away brusquely.
"I didn't get your name!" she calls after him.
Nate smiles to himself. No, she didn't.
Two aisles over, Nate picks up a large frozen pizza and a quart of Haagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream. He leaves Cindy's business card between the coffee ice cream and the vanilla. No need to go looking for trouble.
He moves further down the aisle, pausing before the place where the Eggo waffles should be. The case is empty. Nate looks on either side of the case. There's the store's generic brand, but he wants the Eggo brand. He does have some consumer loyalty.
"There was some issue at the factory and they've stopped making Eggos."
Nate turns towards the warm tone on his right and looks down. Dark eyes, caramel colored skin. If her hair weren't so short he would think Zoe Saldana was hitting on him. Wow.
"What?" he says a bit stupidly.
The Zoe look-alike offers him a broad smile. "I know," she laughs. "That's what I said."
"They're not making them anymore?" he asks in disbelief.
"They are, but there was a flood at the factory in Atlanta." Not-Zoe points to a piece of paper taped to the top of right corner of one of the display cases. "So, we're all pretty much out of luck until next year."
"It's always something," Nate says.
Not-Zoe nods. "I'm thinking I may have to actually invest in a waffle maker. Or maybe I'll take your suggestion and just get some oatmeal," she says, tapping at Nate's basket.
Nate looks at exposed forearms and long fingers. Jesus Christ, he has to get a grip.
"If you get the oatmeal, you should probably get the ice cream, too," he says, gesturing towards the Haagen-Dazs. "For balance."
"I like the way you think." A pause. "I don't suppose you'd want to share yours with me, would you?"
Nate sighs ruefully. "I wish I could, but…"
"The second spoon has already been claimed."
"Pretty much."
"Well, good for her." A pause and a sly smile. "Or him," Not-Zoe says before walking off.
Nate watches her go. He's not dead.
After a few moments, Nate moves on. In the next aisle he picks up three cans of Beefaroni, two cans of peaches and some chili.
He bypasses the household cleaning items, because, again, Costco takes care of that.
He grabs a dozen eggs and realizes he really should've gotten a cart. He hasn't even hit the produce section yet and his handbasket is already overflowing.
He sets his basket on the floor, bends over to rearrange it and somebody gropes his ass.
Nate stands up abruptly, but when he looks around there are only soccer moms, balding men and adolescent girls. Nate pauses and does another survey of his environs and then he sees her: the 60-something woman with the dyed red hair winking at him.
Jesus.
Nate scoops up his basket and heads directly for produce. Do not pass go; do not get groped by women his mother's age. He's so scandalized that he picks six Granny Smith apples instead of the Gala apples right next to them.
He shakes it off, though, and moves on to the bananas. He needs at least five, and then he needs to get some broccoli and red cabbage and --
"Do you like your bananas longer or wider?" an impossibly sexy voice inquires in Nate's right ear.
Nate smirks down at the ripe banana in his head. "Why do I have to choose?" he asks, turning to look into familiar blue eyes.
Brad's mouth quirks at the corners. "Just like a Marine Corps officer: totally unable to make a fucking choice."
Nate looks Brad up and down blatantly. "I think I make pretty good choices to be honest."
"Yeah, you would."
Nate shrugs. "I haven't had any complaints from management."
"I don't think you'll be getting any either." Brad pokes his tongue into the corner of his jaw rather obviously and Nate has to laugh.
"That was a pretty bad pick up line," Nate says thoughtfully. "But I think I'll let you try again, since you're kind of hot."
Brad raises an eyebrow. "Just 'kind of hot'? Thanks. I'm touched."
Nate smiles beatifically. "Kind of hot in that 'you're absolutely gorgeous' way," he amends.
There's a flush of color in Brad's cheeks; Nate's duly pleased. "Are you what happened to my shopping list?" he asks mock accusingly, motioning at the paper clutched in Brad's left hand and the shopping cart just behind him.
"Guilty as charged, sir," Brad says solemnly. "Are you going to NJP me?"
Nate looks up at Brad from underneath his eyelashes, watching the flare of heat surge in Brad's eyes. "I don't think the Corps would approve of my idea of punishment."
"Then we should leave before they find out," Brad says.
"I knew there was a reason I followed you into war."
"I thought it was the other way around."
"Well, you were driving."
Brad's smile has too many teeth. When he runs a finger down the back of Nate's hand, the resulting heat blazes up Nate's arm, down his chest and straight to his cock.
"While I am perfectly happy to talk about the superiority of my leadership skills at any given time," Brad says, "I'm much more interested in the superiority of your fucking skills. Are you ready to go?"
"Always," Nate says, leading the way towards the checkout area.
Nate looks around as Brad's loading items from the basket and cart onto the conveyor belt. Andy, Cindy and Not-Zoe are all in the checkout lane one over and Nate can't help smiling as they eyeball him expectantly.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Brad looks over at him quizzically. "Private joke?"
Nate leans in very close to whisper in Brad's ear. "No," he says, placing a proprietary hand on Brad's shoulder. "Just glad you're here."
-end-
For sparky77. I think you know what you have to do next time
And yes, Virginia, there really is an Eggo shortage.