fic: It's Called a Breakup Because It's Broken
It's Called a Breakup Because It's Broken
Generation Kill; Brad/Nate; R; 730 words
He doesn't regret what happened with Nate.
Disclaimer: Based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, and not intended as any reflection on the real people bearing these names.
Written for Porn Battle X. A companion piece to the second draft of my life. Originally posted here.
~*~
Brad doesn't regret much. Despite the clusterfuck that was OIF, he doesn't regret the way it played out, though if he could've done it differently, he would've. Would've been more careful with Trombley and Walt; would've made an opportunity to do something about Encino Man and Captain America, even if got him NJP'd. He would've gotten that fucking turret before he shipped out, too.
He doesn't regret his time with the British Royal Marines, or the tours Nate suggested maybe he shouldn't have done. Nate wrote his book and went to class while Brad was humping ammo and doing PT, making sure officers didn't blow themselves up and occasionally getting to shoot something. Brad couldn't have just sat in Cambridge and done nothing, or OCS training the future fuckups of the United States Marine Corps.
What he does regret is not getting his head out of his ass sooner, that it took him so long to square things away with Nate. That it took him so long to square things away with himself, after Jen and Sam. When they met, Brad knew Nate (Fick, then; a baby-faced LT with, as Brad soon learned, high hopes) would be different than the other officers, not just smarter. He did what he had to do-buried those feelings until Nate became a civilian, reconned the shit out of him (not that he hadn't already), and waited. It took Ray telling him to stop being such a fucking pussy, a phone call from Mike Wynn to "ask if Brad was doing okay", and several emails from Nate. Just checking in, one read. Wanted to make sure you're still alive.
It was far from perfect when it finally happened. Nate's doorway, apartment, and bed are all too small, so Brad ended up with some impressive bruises before they even got started. Nate had just finished finals, so the place was a mess, as was he. In the hallway, Nate tripped over a stack of his own textbooks and went skidding across the hardwood floor, landing with an oof! and taking Brad down with him.
They didn't fuck there, but Nate did get to learn what Brad's tongue feels like in his mouth while his foreign policy textbook is poking at his kidneys. By the time they do reach the bedroom, Nate's down to just boxers; Brad kept his pants on until they reached the AO, but stripped them off once they set up base. It wasn't some rushed, hurry-up-and come thing; Brad took his time with Nate-laid him down on the bed and teased up until Nate was flushed and panting, licked into him, and jerked him off with a too-slow hand until he came. He took his time fucking Nate, too, careful, measured thrusts that have Nate getting off a second time, at the same time Brad does.
He doesn't regret what happened with Nate. Yeah, Brad wishes it'd happened sooner, but what they had it was good. It was real, unlike, the last six months he had with Jen. There were long months when they didn't see each other, when all they had was a few minutes on the phone or Skype; dirty letters. The wrath of the UCMJ was a constant fear bearing down on them, and the reason why they had separate apartments.
Things didn't end well. Nate wanted more than sleeping in Brad's bed-where the majority of their talking was done-and eating Brad's food three times a week, wanted more than Brad could give him. But Nate's not the only one to blame, and Brad could never pretend he was. It's Brad's fault, too, for keeping himself from Nate, for not opening up like Nate wanted him to, asked him to so many times.
Now, he doesn't look at Nate when they fuck. He always drinks first, monitoring his alcohol intake so he doesn't get so drunk his dick doesn't work. He's rougher than he used to be, leaving bruises all over Nate's skin, making Nate clutch the headboard to keep from falling off the bed. When he comes into (onto, next to, because of) Nate, it's a release that's not as satisfying as it used to be, more tinged with guilt.
Brad Colbert is a Marine, and Marines make do.
Generation Kill; Brad/Nate; R; 730 words
He doesn't regret what happened with Nate.
Disclaimer: Based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, and not intended as any reflection on the real people bearing these names.
Written for Porn Battle X. A companion piece to the second draft of my life. Originally posted here.
~*~
Brad doesn't regret much. Despite the clusterfuck that was OIF, he doesn't regret the way it played out, though if he could've done it differently, he would've. Would've been more careful with Trombley and Walt; would've made an opportunity to do something about Encino Man and Captain America, even if got him NJP'd. He would've gotten that fucking turret before he shipped out, too.
He doesn't regret his time with the British Royal Marines, or the tours Nate suggested maybe he shouldn't have done. Nate wrote his book and went to class while Brad was humping ammo and doing PT, making sure officers didn't blow themselves up and occasionally getting to shoot something. Brad couldn't have just sat in Cambridge and done nothing, or OCS training the future fuckups of the United States Marine Corps.
What he does regret is not getting his head out of his ass sooner, that it took him so long to square things away with Nate. That it took him so long to square things away with himself, after Jen and Sam. When they met, Brad knew Nate (Fick, then; a baby-faced LT with, as Brad soon learned, high hopes) would be different than the other officers, not just smarter. He did what he had to do-buried those feelings until Nate became a civilian, reconned the shit out of him (not that he hadn't already), and waited. It took Ray telling him to stop being such a fucking pussy, a phone call from Mike Wynn to "ask if Brad was doing okay", and several emails from Nate. Just checking in, one read. Wanted to make sure you're still alive.
It was far from perfect when it finally happened. Nate's doorway, apartment, and bed are all too small, so Brad ended up with some impressive bruises before they even got started. Nate had just finished finals, so the place was a mess, as was he. In the hallway, Nate tripped over a stack of his own textbooks and went skidding across the hardwood floor, landing with an oof! and taking Brad down with him.
They didn't fuck there, but Nate did get to learn what Brad's tongue feels like in his mouth while his foreign policy textbook is poking at his kidneys. By the time they do reach the bedroom, Nate's down to just boxers; Brad kept his pants on until they reached the AO, but stripped them off once they set up base. It wasn't some rushed, hurry-up-and come thing; Brad took his time with Nate-laid him down on the bed and teased up until Nate was flushed and panting, licked into him, and jerked him off with a too-slow hand until he came. He took his time fucking Nate, too, careful, measured thrusts that have Nate getting off a second time, at the same time Brad does.
He doesn't regret what happened with Nate. Yeah, Brad wishes it'd happened sooner, but what they had it was good. It was real, unlike, the last six months he had with Jen. There were long months when they didn't see each other, when all they had was a few minutes on the phone or Skype; dirty letters. The wrath of the UCMJ was a constant fear bearing down on them, and the reason why they had separate apartments.
Things didn't end well. Nate wanted more than sleeping in Brad's bed-where the majority of their talking was done-and eating Brad's food three times a week, wanted more than Brad could give him. But Nate's not the only one to blame, and Brad could never pretend he was. It's Brad's fault, too, for keeping himself from Nate, for not opening up like Nate wanted him to, asked him to so many times.
Now, he doesn't look at Nate when they fuck. He always drinks first, monitoring his alcohol intake so he doesn't get so drunk his dick doesn't work. He's rougher than he used to be, leaving bruises all over Nate's skin, making Nate clutch the headboard to keep from falling off the bed. When he comes into (onto, next to, because of) Nate, it's a release that's not as satisfying as it used to be, more tinged with guilt.
Brad Colbert is a Marine, and Marines make do.