[Generation Kill] [Brad/Nate] Reflex
Title: Reflex
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They're tangled together, Brad's legs locked over his, their feet curling together over the edge of the bed.
Notes: For this prompt. I kind of went with summer and sleep and yes? Same verse as Catamaran. Had to write this in the LJ post entry box so excuse any weird formatting/abysmal spelling.
Word count: 634
Nate wakes with the sun, sweat already beading on his back where Brad's arm rests. His legs are baking beneath the sheets, a combination of too fucking hot outside and Brad's body heat radiating against him. They're tangled together, Brad's legs locked over his, their feet curling together over the edge of the bed.
For a moment, Nate closes his eyes again, shuts out the light and the coming day. Brad'll wake up soon, always up early, always wide awake the moment he wakes up. They'll spend the morning together and then Nate's parents are home, back from a week away and it'll be back to pretending Brad is just a friend, that Brad sleeps on the floor when he's over. Nate squeezes his eyes shut and doesn't think about that.
He drifts, wakes again with Brad pressing a kiss to his shoulder and the sun shining brighter through his curtains.
"I gave you half an hour," Brad's saying as he rolls over Nate, hovers above him for a second before he lands on the floor. "Get up. We're going for a run." By the time Nate rolls onto his side, rolls himself up into a sitting position, Brad's already got his running shorts on, low on his hips, no shirt, just the sharp relief of his hips and the lines of his abs.
Nate doesn't say it's too hot for a run or it's too early or go by yourself as he pulls his shorts and sneakers on, but he tries to think it loudly. Brad just watches him, sour faced like Nate taking the time to tie his laces is personally hurting him.
It is too hot to run, even if the sun's barely in the sky. They're sweating by the time they reach the end of the street but Brad twists their usual routes, pushes them down towards the beach and the salty breeze coming off of it. It's almost cool, almost refreshing, the same way the spray catching at their ankles makes it almost okay. Brad keeps on though, a punishing pace most of the way, sending glances over his shoulder if Nate backs off, doesn't quite keep up. For the most part, Nate ignores him, focuses on the dimples at the base of Brad's back and the line of his spine and the way his muscles flex as he runs.
"You're getting slow," Brad says, later, settling himself on the sand. Nate sprawls out beside him, chest pressed to the sand, head pillowed on his hands.
"You're getting too fast," Nate says, nudges at Brad's thigh with his elbow. "You should try out for track in September."
"No." End of discussion. "I have computer club." Nate snorts at that, doesn't even try to bite back the laugh.
"You hate computer club." He squints up as Brad, sunlight harsh in his eyes. Brad's staring out over the sea, deep in thought or possibly just thinking about what he wants for breakfast. It's hard to know with Brad, sometimes.
"I hate the people in computer club," Brad mutters, stretches out and lays down on his back. He keeps five inches between them, ignores Nate's outstretched arm. "They're fucking retards. The computers are fine." There's nothing to say to that - because sure, Brad hangs out with some of the guys from computer club, Ray's something almost like his best friend but -
Well. Brad summed it up well enough.
"We should head back," Brad says, getting to his feet. He pulls Nate up after him, rolls his eyes when Nate trudges slowly on. "We should go in your pool when we get back," he adds and for a moment, he leans against Nate, brushes their hands together and twists his fingers around Nate's.
"Sounds good," Nate says, and holds on tighter.
Subject: Generation Kill | Brad/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They're tangled together, Brad's legs locked over his, their feet curling together over the edge of the bed.
Notes: For this prompt. I kind of went with summer and sleep and yes? Same verse as Catamaran. Had to write this in the LJ post entry box so excuse any weird formatting/abysmal spelling.
Word count: 634
Nate wakes with the sun, sweat already beading on his back where Brad's arm rests. His legs are baking beneath the sheets, a combination of too fucking hot outside and Brad's body heat radiating against him. They're tangled together, Brad's legs locked over his, their feet curling together over the edge of the bed.
For a moment, Nate closes his eyes again, shuts out the light and the coming day. Brad'll wake up soon, always up early, always wide awake the moment he wakes up. They'll spend the morning together and then Nate's parents are home, back from a week away and it'll be back to pretending Brad is just a friend, that Brad sleeps on the floor when he's over. Nate squeezes his eyes shut and doesn't think about that.
He drifts, wakes again with Brad pressing a kiss to his shoulder and the sun shining brighter through his curtains.
"I gave you half an hour," Brad's saying as he rolls over Nate, hovers above him for a second before he lands on the floor. "Get up. We're going for a run." By the time Nate rolls onto his side, rolls himself up into a sitting position, Brad's already got his running shorts on, low on his hips, no shirt, just the sharp relief of his hips and the lines of his abs.
Nate doesn't say it's too hot for a run or it's too early or go by yourself as he pulls his shorts and sneakers on, but he tries to think it loudly. Brad just watches him, sour faced like Nate taking the time to tie his laces is personally hurting him.
It is too hot to run, even if the sun's barely in the sky. They're sweating by the time they reach the end of the street but Brad twists their usual routes, pushes them down towards the beach and the salty breeze coming off of it. It's almost cool, almost refreshing, the same way the spray catching at their ankles makes it almost okay. Brad keeps on though, a punishing pace most of the way, sending glances over his shoulder if Nate backs off, doesn't quite keep up. For the most part, Nate ignores him, focuses on the dimples at the base of Brad's back and the line of his spine and the way his muscles flex as he runs.
"You're getting slow," Brad says, later, settling himself on the sand. Nate sprawls out beside him, chest pressed to the sand, head pillowed on his hands.
"You're getting too fast," Nate says, nudges at Brad's thigh with his elbow. "You should try out for track in September."
"No." End of discussion. "I have computer club." Nate snorts at that, doesn't even try to bite back the laugh.
"You hate computer club." He squints up as Brad, sunlight harsh in his eyes. Brad's staring out over the sea, deep in thought or possibly just thinking about what he wants for breakfast. It's hard to know with Brad, sometimes.
"I hate the people in computer club," Brad mutters, stretches out and lays down on his back. He keeps five inches between them, ignores Nate's outstretched arm. "They're fucking retards. The computers are fine." There's nothing to say to that - because sure, Brad hangs out with some of the guys from computer club, Ray's something almost like his best friend but -
Well. Brad summed it up well enough.
"We should head back," Brad says, getting to his feet. He pulls Nate up after him, rolls his eyes when Nate trudges slowly on. "We should go in your pool when we get back," he adds and for a moment, he leans against Nate, brushes their hands together and twists his fingers around Nate's.
"Sounds good," Nate says, and holds on tighter.