FIC: The Easy Part's Over Now (1/3) Generation Kill
TITLE: The Easy Part's Over Now (1/3)
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Brad/Nate
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: And the hard part begins
DISCLAIMER: Generation Kill and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight and alethialia and hackthis and shoshannagold for beta and general all-around awesome.
Brad’s mom is many things - a worrier, a busybody, prone to surprises when Brad least expects or desires them - but she’s definitely not an alarmist. So when Brad gets the message on his phone that he needs to get home now, he doesn’t waste time explaining anything to anyone. He breaks the speed limit most of the way there, trying to shut down his mind as it tries to bring up possibilities. There are too many variables and he doesn’t have enough intel, so he doesn’t let himself get lost in ‘what if’s, as tempting as they are. He just keeps breathing the hot California air as it rushes at him, reassuring himself that everything’s okay.
It’s the first time in his life he’s ever even really thought about just dumping the bike and rushing inside, but he doesn’t. He parks it and gets off, looking at the house for clues. Nate’s car pulls up behind him and Brad lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Hey.” He stows his helmet on the bike as Nate climbs out of the car, his eyes looking Brad over intently, his gray suit rumpled. “My mom call you, too?”
“Yeah. She wouldn’t explain anything. Just said it was important. I was a little worried you’d done something stupid.”
“I resent that, Fick.” Brad falls in step with Nate as he heads toward the front door, falling behind just enough that he has a reason to touch the small of Nate’s back and guide him in the door. Nate smiles at him over his shoulder, stopping just inside. Brad stumbles into Nate, blinking to adjust his eyes. “What the fuck is that?”
His mother looks up at him and smiles a smile that Brad’s seen five times in his life - when she found out what he did when the secretary left him alone in the elementary school office when he was in kindergarten, when he blew up the science department, when she sent him off to military school, when he told her that he fell firmly in the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ camp, and now. “Watch your language, Bradley.”
“That’s a kid.”
“Yes.” His mom nods calmly, bouncing the thing on her knee. Brad knows nothing about kids, but the ribbon pinned in the wisps of hair makes him suspect it’s a girl, though he’s not sure why she’s here or how she got here. “More specifically, Bradley, she’s your kid.”
Nate’s silent and Brad’s behind him, so he can’t actually see his expression, which he thinks might be a good thing. “I don’t have a kid.”
“Actually, you do. Do you remember Julia Griffin?”
“No.” Brad’s hands rest on Nate’s hips, grounding himself against him, holding on to something that makes sense.
“She lived next door. When you came home from Iraq. Right before you went to England.”
Heat fuses Brad to the floor and he feels Nate stiffen in his grip. That hadn’t been their best time - Nate going to Harvard, Brad going to England, both of them trying to do the “right thing”, whatever the fuck that was. It hadn’t been being together. It hadn’t been being apart. It had just been being and not looking forward or back. “Ah. Right. Vaguely.”
“I’m so glad she made an impression.” His mom gets to her feet and Brad remembers why he is the way he is. “You apparently made a much stronger one on her.”
“That’s…No.” Brad shakes his head and steps out from behind Nate, aware that he’s hiding and that Nate doesn’t deserve that. “No.”
“This is Grace, Brad.”
“I don’t have a kid, Mom. You remember the thing where I sleep with guys?”
His mom’s eyes flash and Brad feels his cheeks darken. Fuck, put him back in this house and he’s eight-years-old again. “I’m well aware of your preference in partners, dear.” She holds the little girl’s hand and guides her through the several shaky steps she needs to get to Brad. “I’m also aware that you aren’t always so selective. Especially when you’re upset and drunk and your significant other-” Here she throws a sharp look at Nate, “Has just told you that he thinks you’d be better off not trying to sustain a long-distance relationship.”
“Wait. Wait. Julia lives next door. If I’d gotten her pregnant, you’d have known. You’d…how…” Brad clears his throat. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll get them.” Nate veers off into the kitchen, and Brad can’t see his face at all, though he recognizes the body language far better than he wants to. The kid is looking up at Brad, her eyes blue and wide, her blonde hair flying haphazardly around her head. She’s dressed in a dirty green sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans.
“Julia left town.” His mother’s voice has softened, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s sticking to the same story. “Had the baby. Was living with a boyfriend somewhere up near Seattle.”
“See. A boyfriend.” Brad gives his mom a look he knows must be desperate. It feels desperate. “It’s got to be the boyfriend’s.”
“Julia took off. He brought the baby back and offered to get a paternity test. He said Julia always said the baby’s dad was some guy named Brad.”
“There are a lot of guys named Brad, Mom.” He refuses to squat down, even as the kid grabs at his leg, holding onto his jeans. “Probably a few that slept with Julia.”
“Three years ago?”
“Yeah. I mean…” He looks down at the little girl and then at his mom. “I can’t have a kid. I’m a Marine, Mom.”
“Marines have kids.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you mean, Brad, it’s not this little girl’s fault.”
“That doesn’t make her my responsibility, Mom.”
“Well, according to Julia’s parents and her birth certificate, it does.” His mom picks the kid up so she’s nearly eye-level with Brad. “Say hello to Grace Colbert, Bradley.”
Brad looks at the little girl. Her face is dirty and she’s too thin, but all he’s really conscious of is the fact that Nate hasn’t come back with the drinks yet and the fact that this is not a conversation he ever planned to have with his mother. “I’m careful, Mom.”
“Look at her, Brad.”
He tries very hard not to do that. “I need to talk to Nate.”
His mom sighs and takes a step back. Brad’s gaze follows Grace, then he deliberately looks away and heads to the kitchen. Nate’s not there, but Brad spies him on the back deck, so he follows him outside. Nate’s standing by the railing, so Brad leans against the side of the house, hands behind his back.
“I didn’t know. I still don’t know.” He knows that’s not the point, but it bears repeating. “I told you about Julia.”
“I know.” Nate’s hands are in his pockets, ruining the line of his suit.
“I would have mentioned a kid, Nate.”
Nate turns and looks at Brad evenly, his normally expressive eyes carefully blank. “I know, Brad.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes off the wall and straightens as Nate turns back around. Brad’s head tells him to go inside, but he does his best not to listen to his head when he’s on leave, especially when it comes to Nate. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Nate’s waist, resting his forehead against the back of Nate’s head.
Nate inhales deeply and then lets the breath out slowly. “I kind of thought the whole sleeping with guys thing was going to preclude having kids.”
“Yeah. Join the crowd.” Brad closes his eyes as Nate relaxes back against him. “I’m sorry Mom sprung this on you too.”
“We’re together, aren’t we?” Nate turns in the circle of Brad’s arms so he’s looking at Brad.
“Well…yeah.” They don’t talk about this, both of them knowing words lie, actions are their truth. They had something like a goodbye after Nate’s paddle party and then they’d left it alone. They’d been friends until Brad had come back from England and Iraq again and all he wanted was to see Nate, to settle the ache that had been burning inside him. They hadn’t talked about the future, they’d simply started spending all their free time together, coordinating their schedules.
“Well, I imagine that’s why.” Nate takes his hands out of his pockets and rests them on top of Brad’s. “So, you are aware that condoms work with girls, too, right?”
Brad almost smiles, pressing the slight smirk against Nate’s neck. “Hey, considering how many girls I’ve slept with, if I’ve only got one kid, I think my average is pretty good.”
“You’re a horrible homosexual.” Nate laughs softly, closing his eyes as Brad’s teeth graze his neck. His body relaxes more even though Brad can feel the underlying tension.
“Hmm.” The noise reverberates against Nate’s skin. “Not the impression you gave me last night.”
Nate huffs a husky laugh. “I’m relatively certain that turning me on while on your parents’ back porch is a bad idea, even when there aren’t other issues to deal with.”
“Right.” Brad drops his head to Nate’s shoulder and breathes for a few moments. “You realize that’s a girl, right?”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Nate leans his head against Brad’s. “The first girl.”
“Unless your sister’s one on the way plans on changing in utero, the first girl on both sides.” Brad curses softly and eloquently under his breath. “What the fuck do I do with a kid, Nate? I’m a Marine. I’m active duty. I get sent into some of the most dangerous places and situations in the world.”
Nate’s voice is softer than a whisper, and it guts Brad worse than a K-bar. “Is she yours?”
Brad nods only once. “Yeah. I think so.”
Nate turns his head a little more and kisses Brad’s temple. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
**
Brad stands over the bed, his brow furrowed. The kid - Grace, a voice in his head that sounds far too much like his mother’s exasperated one snaps - is cleaned up and asleep. His mom had taken the sweatshirt off of her and with just a t-shirt and jeans on, she looks half her original size.
“She’s malnourished,” he hears his mom saying to Nate. “Underweight. She doesn’t talk that they know of. There are some bruises, but no broken bones that they saw on the X-rays, so they could just be childhood bruises.”
“Did he say how long he’d had her?”
“No. He just dumped her on their doorstep, said a few choice words about Julia and left.”
Brad squats down, his face closer to the ki…Grace’s. He can see himself in her, whatever that means. He doesn’t subscribe to the usual idea of what family is. He was adopted and never gave a shit about his birth parents because he had all the family he needed. He forged a family with his men in combat situations, and now, he has Nate. This…person…is the first thing in his life that’s part of him, that could claim a right to any kind of binding ownership.
“And Julia’s parents?” Nate’s voice is soft.
“Well, they’re a little concerned for Julia right now. They had no idea she was pregnant or anything else.” Brad’s mother’s scorn is pretty easy to hear, and Brad almost feels sorry for Julia’s parents when they come knocking on the door again. “I imagine after they find her and straighten everything out there, they’ll focus on Grace.”
Brad shifts a little closer, inspecting her. His job is figuring things out, and he has a talent that goes beyond just training and practice. He understands machines and orders and how to make people do what he wants, but people themselves are like little mysteries he can’t quite fathom.
“Grace.” Brad says her name softly, and it suits her in a way. She’s delicate and frail, old-fashioned despite her Dora the Explorer t-shirt. She makes a soft noise and then opens her eyes, wide and blue and blinking with nearly invisible blonde eyelashes. Brad shifts his position slightly and meets her gaze head on. “Hey.”
She doesn’t react at all for a long time and then she closes her eyes again. He watches her lashes fall on her cheeks, fluttering there the same way Nate’s do when he’s dreaming. He realizes his mother and Nate have gone silent, which probably means they’re staring at him like he’s grown another head or, more accurately, suddenly found out he has a kid. He straightens up and looks at his mother.
“She’ll have to stay here tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
Nate purses his lips together and Brad ignores him. “I’ve just got the bike and Nate doesn’t have a car seat. Neither do you for that matter. So she’ll have to stay here tonight. I’ll pick some stuff up tomorrow morning and come and get her.”
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten a few things, Bradley.”
He looks away from the hint of Nate’s smile to his mother’s eyes. “Just because we’re all grown doesn’t mean you don’t know how to handle kids. Besides you have grandkids, and I know you know how to deal with them.”
“I meant perhaps you could ask instead of order me around like one of your Marines.”
“Oh.” Brad glances down at Grace. “Would you watch her?”
“She’s my granddaughter, Brad. Of course I will.”
Something in her voice catches and Brad looks at her, sees it on her face before she can hide it. As much as she’s supported him, as much as she’s been there for him, when it all comes down to it there are a couple of things she can’t quite deny. Brad isn’t her son. This isn’t her granddaughter. And Brad’s decision to be with Nate means that this is the only not-quite-grandchild Brad will be giving her.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” His chest aches, and he can’t help but think about the boy Trombley shot in Iraq, about the little girl Doc spent two hours working on even though they all knew it wasn’t going to save her life. He clears his throat as her eyes jerk back to his face and he hides it better than she does. “Imagine you didn’t expect your Wednesday to go like this.”
“No.” She shakes her head. Brad comes by his attitude and self-defense mechanisms honestly. “This really is more of a Thursday thing.” Stepping back out of the doorway, she gives Nate a thin smile. “I’ll make up a list of things you’ll need. Excuse me.”
Brad’s head falls back and he sighs heavily. “Fuck.”
“I’ll wait here for the list,” Nate says. “Why don’t you take the long way home and get some air? Clear your head.”
Brad tilts his head and looks at Nate, his smile feeling as fragile as Grace seems in the middle of the queen sized bed. “No amount of fresh air is going to fix this.”
“No,” Nate agrees softly and glances toward the kitchen where Brad’s mom disappeared. “But I think leaving might keep it from getting any worse.”
**
The hood of Nate’s car is cool by the time Brad parks the bike beside it, which is indication enough of how long he’s been out on the road. The fact that his face feels numb is secondary but to be expected, given that he doesn’t think he’s really felt anything since he walked into his parents’ house that afternoon.
Brad lets himself in and locks the door behind him. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the hook on the wall and takes a deep breath. He’s ridden into certain death in a fucking sardine can with no batteries and no gun lube. He can face this. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and walks into the living room, watching Nate for a second from the doorway.
He’s golden in the light from the lamp, his legs stretched out in front of him and his bare feet on the ottoman. He’s got his glasses on, which means he’s working or at least trying, and whatever he’s drinking looks strong and dangerous even from across the room. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”
“Oh, Lucy.” Nate’s accent is horrible, but his smile makes up for it. “What crazy thing did you get up to today?”
“Oh, Ricky.” Brad walks across the small room and sinks down next to Nate’s chair, leaning in to kiss him. It’s hot and hard and more than a little bit desperate. Nate tastes like good scotch and Brad growls, moving up over the arm of the chair and climbing into Nate’s lap. The teasing is gone and Nate’s kissing him back, just as hungry, his hands clawing at Brad’s clothes. It’s like the night at Al Kut, riding high on adrenaline and fear and the bitter aftertaste of death, not caring about MOPP suits or protocol or anything but touching, feeling. “Nate. Fuck.”
Nate doesn’t answer in words. Instead he straightens up and pushes Brad back, angling him off the chair and onto the floor. He follows him down, pinning Brad to the ground and kissing him, his lips and teeth and tongue mounting an attack on Brad’s mouth, ravaging it. He fucks Brad’s mouth with an intense viciousness that makes Brad groan, hands fisting in Nate’s hair, tugging at the long strands until Nate’s making pained noises against his mouth but not pulling away.
They break the kiss, both of them gasping for air. Brad takes advantage of the distance to reach down and tug at Nate’s shirt, pushing it up his stomach. Nate pulls away enough to jerk it over his head and Brad levers himself off the floor, getting Nate beneath him. He finds Nate’s neck and shoulder. Kissing him isn’t enough, so he sucks and bites at the smooth skin, needing to taste him, devour him. Nate’s lost the golden glow from the lamp and from the lifetime ago they spent in Iraq, so his skin is pale, flushing with every touch of Brad’s mouth.
Nate pulls Brad’s shirt over his head, separating them long enough to get rid of it. Brad moves right back in, lower now, finding the hard nub of Nate’s nipple and capturing it with his teeth. Nate groans, arching up off the floor, and Brad uses his tongue, flicking the pebbled skin until Nate’s body is barely on the carpet, bowing upward to Brad’s mouth. “Nate.” Brad groans his name, sliding his hands beneath Nate’s back and holding him against his lips, tasting him. “God, Nate. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Nate pushes Brad away and shakes his head with a quick jerk, pushing Brad against the side of the chair. He straddles his lap and kisses him, fingers digging into Brad’s scalp to hold him still. Brad’s hands splay across Nate’s back and stroke upward, curving along bone and muscle as Nate plunders his mouth, tasting every surface, his tongue dueling with Brad’s. It’s sharp, their rhythm off, lost in some mix of pleasure and pain until Brad aches everywhere. He slides his hands down to Nate’s ass and pulls him closer, both of them groaning at the pressure as Nate’s cock grinds against his through their clothes, through the denim and the wool of Nate's suit. Brad’s hips rock upward on their own accord and once Nate responds, Brad can’t stop, arms wrapping tighter around Nate so he can’t move away. They move together desperately, Brad’s cock jutting up, sliding along Nate’s with every upward stroke.
Nate drops his head to Brad’s neck, burrowing at the juncture of his throat and shoulder, his breath hot on Brad’s skin. Their bodies keep moving, given over completely as Nate’s knees dig into Brad’s thighs, Brad’s fingers no doubt leaving an arc of bruises on Nate’s ass. Brad slams his head back against the arm of the chair and cries out, his body going stiff as his orgasm sparks through him. Nate moans and bites at Brad’s neck, teeth biting into the flesh as he presses closer, coming with the same level of shaking intensity.
Brad swallows hard, trying to catch his breath and failing. He sucks in as much air as he can, rasping and gasping until his head stops spinning. The arm of the chair holds his head at an awkward angle, exacerbated by Nate’s head tucked against his neck, but he doesn’t move, isn’t sure he can. He manages to get a hand up to the back of Nate’s head and strokes his hair before curving his palm against Nate’s nape. His voice barely breaks a whisper. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
“Shh.” Nate moves back just enough to kiss him, this one different than before. This one is softer, calmer and Brad meets Nate’s gaze. “Let’s go to bed.”
**
“Does fucking Mattel own the rights to every fucking piece of clothing a little girl wears?” Brad snarls at yet another pink…thing. Nate and his sister keep assuring him that everything has a proper name, but to Brad it’s all a sea of pink. Pink with ruffles. Pink with stripes. Pink with polka dots. Pink with stars. Pink with fucking feathers. Even worse is that Brad’s pretty sure that even someone Grace’s size would look underdressed in most of it, like a hooker walking the streets of Candy Land looking for a good time. “It’s like fucking Barbie puked in here.”
“Brad,” Nate bites his lip to keep from laughing, and it serves to distract Brad from his rant, given that Nate’s lips are still swollen. Brad sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth, pushing his tongue against the cut from Nate’s teeth. “They call it ‘Kids R Us’ because there are kids here.”
His sister, Kate, smacks him with a handful of clothes. “People are staring.”
“People aren’t staring. They’re blinded by all the pink.” He glances down at the pile she picked out. “No. No. No. No fucking way. No.”
“Brad.”
“Kate.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I refuse to have the kid dressed like a doll or a whore. How is that being impossible? I mean, beyond the fact that these clothes make it that way?” He glances over and sees a woman looking at him and his eyes narrow slightly. “Ma’am. Would you dress a two year old in this?” He holds up what Kate assures him is a complete outfit, though as far as he can tell it’s three scraps of fabric held together with sequins and a picture of some floppy-haired, pretty-boy faggot she tells him is Zac Efron. “And expect the child to grow up with any kind of self-esteem at all?”
The woman snaps her mouth shut and moves out of the clothing area quickly. Brad tosses the clothes back at Kate.
“No.”
“She’s a girl, Brad. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with them…”
“Since growing up with my two sisters completely turned me off of them.”
Nate sets two pairs of small jeans in Brad’s hands. “Here.”
Brad unfolds them and looks at them dubiously. “They make these this small?”
“They do.”
“Huh.” Brad turns them around and then back again. “And no pink. Nate, I could kiss you.”
“Yeah, and if you’d stuck to that, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Kate grumbles under her breath as she heads back into the bowels of the girls’ clothing section. Brad manages a tight smile and tosses the jeans in the nearly overflowing cart. “Girls like pink, Brad!”
“Ignore her.” Brad rubs his forehead and looks over the list. “Why do kids need everything smaller? Spoons. Chairs. Forks. Plates. Cups. It’s some sort of evil enterprise.”
“Well, if that’s the case, when you’re asked to invade, maybe you can bring Grace along.” Nate’s smiling, but Brad knows things are still off between them. Worse, probably, after the sex, even though he’d hoped it might fix something, remind them that they work together, they go together. “What are you going to do about a car?”
Brad watches as Kate throws clothes into the cart, daring him with a look to say a word. Resigning himself to some pink, he looks at Nate instead of challenging her. “I’ll have to get one, I guess. And I’ll need to buy food. Do they have a kid section in the supermarkets?” He glances back as Kate comes up again. “No. Put that one back.”
“I’m buying it for her. I’m her aunt; I get to do that.”
“I will burn it like the pagan sacrifice it obviously is.” He holds her gaze, both of them challenging each other. “Katherine.”
“Bradley.” She takes a step closer and deliberately puts the pink and white ruffled…thing on his cart. “All the children in this family are boys. This is my only opportunity to buy something pink and frilly and cute, and you are not taking it away from me. I will buy this dress, and I will put your daughter in it and I will make her frolic. I will make her look like a princess and if you so much as raise a finger to try to stop me, I will tell Mom about what really happened that day at the park.”
“One.” He bites out the word. “One dress. That’s it.”
“As pink and as frilly as I want.”
“Fine.” He curls his hands tight around the handle of the cart as Kate smiles, moving off toward the diapers. “Why did we invite her?”
“Feminine perspective.”
“Evil. She’s pure evil.” Brad glances at Nate. “You don’t have to work today?”
“I do. Later.” He smiles up at Brad, and Brad smiles back, watching Nate’s eyes, trying to read him. He doesn’t like Nate hiding from him, even worse here in plain sight. “You’ll have to manage your first dinner by yourself.”
“Nate.” Brad reaches over, brushes the back of his fingers over Nate’s hand. Nate doesn’t pull away, doesn’t react at all. Brad drops his voice. “Are we okay?”
Kate piles a box of diapers and another box of baby wipes on the cart. “Okay. That’s everything on the list. Now, let’s go. I have to pick Zach up from school.”
“You can go on ahead, Kate.”
“Yeah, like I’d trust you guys to put in a car seat.”
“We’re Marines. Highly trained Marines, Kate.”
“Yeah, but you’re also boys and idiots. So I’ll put the car seat in so that Grace doesn’t end up sliding across the back seat when you decide to take a corner like you’re on your bike.” She pushes the cart, turning it toward the cashiers. “Besides, if I leave you alone, you’ll dump out half this stuff as unnecessary and Mom will kill me. And you, but mostly me. So. Let’s go spend your combat bonus, shall we?”
“Obviously I’ve pissed off some higher power.” Brad follows Kate. “Possibly even higher than Mattis. My mother, maybe. My grandmother. Fuck, when Ruth hears about this, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
“Your grandmother will be thrilled to have a little girl to frighten.” Nate stops at a display and grabs something off of it, jogging a few steps to catch up with Brad. “And eventually Grace will wrinkle her nose and run in fear at the scent of peonies like the rest of us do.” He holds up a small fuzzy dog and points it at Brad. “What do you think?”
“I think she’ll love it.” Brad swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Nate…”
He shakes his head and sets the dog in the basket. “Don’t worry. We’re okay.”
“Nate.”
Nate looks over at him and smiles something sad that makes Brad’s chest hurt. “We will be.”
**
Brad looks dubiously at the car in his mother’s driveway. It’s as generic and homely as a car can possibly be, and he’s relatively certain if he tries to fold himself inside it, he’s going to permanently damage something important. “I can’t drive this, Mom.”
“What’s wrong with it, honey?”
“Did you look at it? I mean, I know that you don’t see me all that often, but I’ve been well over six foot since I was fifteen. That car isn’t even six feet long.”
“It’s number one in safety for all the crash test ratings.” She frowns as she watches Grace move from flower to flower in the front yard, leaning in and pressing her face against the petals and leaves. “Grace, honey. Be careful.”
“How about I promise not to get into a crash and we find me a car I can actually fit into without folding myself in two?”
“You’re being deliberately difficult.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You always do this. You don’t get your way, so you get all petulant. You’re like a child.” His mom smiles at him. “You and Grace should get along famously.”
“You’re not funny.” He glances over at Grace. She’s sitting on the ground in front of his mother’s daisies, plucking petals one after the other. “You know I have no idea what to do with a child.”
“But you now possess every toy that was rated for a two-year-old, so you should be fine. I hope someone warned you that nowadays all those toys make some sort of noise, and your sisters will both be paying you back in spades for the drum sets.”
Brad leans against the car and glances in the back seat where the car seat is securely locked in. There are bags in the trunk and more in the passenger seat filled with toys and clothes and diapers. He glances over at Grace again and sighs. “What am I going to do, Mom?”
“What a ridiculous question.” She looks at him, humor replaced with seriousness. “You’re going to be a good father.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You take care of her. You teach her right from wrong. You help her. You hold her hand when she needs you to and you let go when you think you can’t. You explain the difference between fantasy and reality, you tell her how quantum physics applies to deep sea diving. You teach her what you know and give her everything you have. You love her.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“I didn’t know you when we picked you up from the hospital.” She ducks her head so that she’s looking directly into his eyes. “I loved you.”
“You wanted me. You went looking for me.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want this. I don’t want this. I want…hell, Mom, I have enough problems trying to live the parts of my life that I lie about and you want me to raise a kid? With that? You want me to…”
“I don’t want you to do anything, Bradley, except face up to the fact that, whether or not you planned this, you are a father.” Her voice breaks and she blinks rapidly, her lashes spiking with tears. “You are her father, and you’re going to have to accept that. Deal with it. All I’ve heard since you graduated was that you’re a Marine. Well be a Marine then.” She turns on her heel and heads for the house. “Make do.”
**
Grace sits on the floor and stares at him. She’s been doing it since he fed her a dinner of grilled chicken breasts and peas, blinking her big, wide eyes like something out of a Disney cartoon, and refusing to look away from him. The house is quiet without music or the television, and even his laptop is silent. In fact, the only sound in the apartment is the quiet filter of his fish tank, their breathing and the soft movement of the clock.
“Okay.”
She jumps at the sound of his voice and huddles in on herself. Brad frowns and shifts forward in his seat, freezing when she withdraws further. Great. Just fucking great. It’s two in the morning, he has a kid who’s petrified of him and Ray hung up on him when he tried to call and explain he wouldn’t be at the cookout at Wynn’s house the next day. Not to mention the fact that he’s been hoping Nate would come over after work and, as of yet, that hasn’t happened.
“I’m kind of thinking I need a new religion, you know that? Get some Christianity in my life just so I can have more than one person to curse at.” He exhales. “I bought you some pajamas. And it’s late. Well, early. So we should get you changed into them. Somehow.” He’s done this before, so there shouldn’t be this sheer terror clawing at his stomach. He’s babysat Poke’s kids plenty of times - feeding, bathing, dressing, bandaging, soothing, rocking, burping. He’s done it all with no real thought to the process, so this shouldn’t be any different. “They’re purple. The pajamas. Do you like purple?”
Grace regards him with those eyes and then blinks slowly, drifting toward sleep. Brad stands up slowly, carefully, and moves over to her, picking her up and easing her against his shoulder. He hasn’t held her until now, has only picked her up to load her into and out of the car or her booster seat at the table. She settles against him, whatever fear he’d startled into her eased now. She wraps her arms around his neck and he fits her on his hip, leading her into the second bedroom. Up until that afternoon, this was his computer room, but now it’s a computer room with a toddler bed shoved up against one wall.
She smells like powder and lotion and her breath fans against his jaw, a soft snore surprising a smile out of him. “Okay. No pajamas tonight. But don’t get used to it. We’re going to have rules in this house. Regulations.” He lays her carefully on the bed, covering her up with a pale green sheet and a brown and pink quilt. A soft, shaky breath falls past her lips and Brad watches her settle in before glancing at the clock and sighing, knowing he needs to stop watching the clock, knowing it won’t make Nate show up on his doorstep, knowing he needs his head in the here and now, not in the what was a few days ago. “You’re kind of fucking up my life, Grace. What am I supposed to do with you?”
She lets out another breath and rolls over, facing the wall. She’s still curled in on herself and Brad leans against the doorframe, watching, waiting for her to relax. It never happens and he finally gives up, dragging himself to bed. He’s trained to sleep whenever there’s a free moment to do so, but he can’t quite manage it tonight.
His alarm goes off at its usual early time and he groans, reaching to shut it off and encountering a bed full of Nate. Somehow, he not only managed to fall asleep, but he did it on Nate’s side of the bed, so he has to angle over him to shut off the sound. Nate grumbles, but slides a hand along Brad’s hip, so after he gets the alarm turned off, Brad stays where he is, pressing his mouth to a convenient spot on Nate’s skin. “Time you get in?”
“Shh. Sleeping.” Nate tugs Brad up for a kiss and then pushes him back on the bed, moving over to lay on Brad’s chest. Brad wraps his arms around him and holds him, closing his eyes and breathing the warm scent of Nate. “C’n watch her ‘f you want to go surf.”
Brad shakes his head and tightens his arms. “Here’s good.” He smiles as Nate slips a knee between both of Brad’s legs, effectively laying on top of him. He kisses the top of Nate’s head and matches their breathing, one hand sliding slowly up and down Nate’s back. Nate makes a soft sound and moves closer still. Brad’s pretty sure he’s still smiling when he falls asleep.
**
Waking up the second time is much better than the first. Nate is still sprawled on top of him, his lips parted slightly, which causes Brad’s dick to twitch. He’s considering dragging Nate’s mouth up to his and kissing him senseless before sliding down and doing other things when he turns his head and finds himself face to face with Grace.
“Holy sh…” Brad takes a breath and wonders how she managed to get there without him hearing her. He clears his throat. “Morning.” He looks her over. She’s dressed in her clothes still, but her pants and the lower half of her shirt are soaked. “Okay. Diaper change before bed next time. Good to know. Let’s go clean you up.”
He eases out from under Nate despite Nate’s grumblings and takes Grace by the hand. She follows along docilely, blinking at him with those damned eyes. Her bed is a mess as well and he strips the sheets off of it and tosses them in a pile by the door.
“Okay. Bathroom. Right.” He takes her hand again and leads her into the bathroom, kneeling down in front of her to take her clothes off. Whatever bruises his mother noticed have faded now to just the dull hint of greenish-yellow. He tosses her wet clothes in the corner and strips her diaper off of her. “I’ve worn these. Trust me. I know how uncomfortable you are. Try wearing one in a MOPP suit. Hot, sweaty, covered in piss and shit. Not fun. It’s even worse when you’ve got hair down there, trust me. Not that you need to think about that. Fuck. What the hell do two-year-olds talk about?” He guides her to the bathtub and has her stand there while he fills it with warm water. “You like baths?”
She doesn’t say anything, but she does look down into the water, reaching to touch it, imitating Brad as he keeps his fingers under the spraying faucet. She smiles a little and slaps her hand against the water, jerking back as it splashes back at her. Brad turns off the water and then lifts her, settling her on the floor of the tub.
“Okay. I don’t have any toys for the bathtub. Apparently Mom left something off the list.” He reaches for his soap and then stops. “And you probably don’t want to smell like this. Okay. Um…” He grabs the bottle of baby shampoo and pours a little into his hands, rubbing them together for bubbles before he starts washing her cool skin. “No more tears, so please don’t cry. I have no idea what to do with crying once you’re past the need for a bottle.” Her skin is soft and he adjusts his touch to suit it. “So, Grace. Did you sleep well?”
More blinking and Brad blows out a breath. Grace pulls away from his touch and lays down on her back in the tub, surrounded by soap bubbles. She lifts her hands up and then slams them down on the surface of the water, laughing as it splashes up again, soaking her face and Brad.
“Loves the water. Good to know.” Brad grabs a towel and dries off his face. “Swimming lessons then surfing lessons, huh?”
She keeps splashing and he moves up onto the commode to watch her. The bathroom’s going to be a mess of water and baby shampoo, but she’s happy and laughing and it’s pretty much the first sound he’s heard her make. He rubs his face, wincing at the rough stubble there. He needs a shower and a shave and a very stiff drink while he figures out what he’s going to do. He’s got another month at Pendleton and then he’s supposed to ship out again, and that means he’s got less than a month to fix this.
He realizes the sound has stopped and he looks over at Grace again. She’s sitting up in the tub looking at him. She looks completely bedraggled and he sinks back down beside the tub. “Okay, what do you say we use this shampoo the way nature intended?” She’s completely obedient through the entire operation, even when he guides her head back to the faucet and lets the water fall down over her hair. A bit of it gets down into her eyes, but she just blinks it away.
He leaves her standing beside the tub shivering while he goes through his towels, looking for one that seems soft enough for her. He finally picks one and wraps it around her, drying her off quickly. Her hair is thin and white-blonde and it flies everywhere around her face.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to suggest a buzz cut.” He smiles at her and finishes drying her off. Wrapping the towel around her again, he picks her up and carries her into her room. Her clothes and diapers are stacked against the wall until he can find a dresser, so he grabs a diaper and looks at her and frowns. “Okay. Um. Lay down?”
She sits on the floor, and he figures that’s a start. He also figures he’s going to have to find a way to communicate with her that doesn’t sound like he’s giving orders to a dog. Or a grunt.
He guides her onto her back and opens up the diaper, managing to get it on her without too much fuss. After that it’s jeans and a t-shirt and, because he couldn’t manage to avoid it, a pair of socks with ruffles at the ankle. “Yeah. I’m sorry about your aunt Kate. She’s kind of evil.” He looks her over and smiles, finger combing her hair. “So, um…I’m Brad. Your father, apparently. If and when you decide to talk, you can call me…Dad, I guess. Or Brad. And you met your grandma. And Kate. You met Aunt Kate. And there’s Nate. He was there that first day. I have another sister and she and Kate both have boys. You’ll meet them. I fully expect you to be able to kick their asses in a couple of weeks. And tomorrow there’s a cookout. So you’ll meet…” He groans and looks her in the eye. “You’ll meet everybody else that matters, other than Nate’s family. But don’t worry. There won’t be a quiz. You want to watch TV?”
She nods and Brad sighs with relief. He guides her out to the living room and turns on the set, flipping through channels to try to find something educational or at least cartoonish. The only animated stuff he owns runs more toward ‘Fritz the Cat’ and ‘Heavy Metal’ so he’s not quite equipped for the Sesame Street set. He finds the familiar flash of blue that is Grover and stops, about to settle her in with that when Elmo comes on the screen.
“No. Sorry. Can’t do it, kid.” He flips a few more channels until he finds The Discovery Channel and settles her in with something about bugs. Kids like bugs, he’s pretty sure. “You like Cheerios?” He doesn’t wait for her answer, just goes to the kitchen and pours her a bowl and brings it back, setting it in the chair next to her. “I’m going to go shower. If you need anything, knock. Or…” Nate’s in the bedroom, but getting woken up by someone other than Brad probably isn’t on his to-do list. Of course, given that Grace is awake, Brad won’t be waking Nate up in his traditional manner anyway. “Knock. On the bathroom door.”
He showers, keeping an ear out for any screams of pain. Of course, given her silence so far, he’s not sure she would scream if she were in pain. He tugs on his boxer-briefs as soon as he’s dried off, opening the door to vent the steam as well as to give him a better chance of hearing her. He shaves carefully then wipes the extra cream off his face, peeking in on Grace from the hallway.
She’s sitting on her knees right in front of the TV, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, and she’s shoving more Cheerios in, but she doesn’t seem to be in danger of choking, so he heads to the bedroom and tugs on a pair of olive green shorts and a USMC t-shirt. Nate’s sprawled face-down on the bed, the sheet at his hips granting Brad an unobstructed view of the planes and muscles of Nate’s back. There are faint red streaks from Brad’s nails the other night since Nate’s fair skin shows every mark. “Come back to bed.”
“Grace is watching TV.”
“All the more reason to come back to bed.” Nate turns over and grins at him, pulling himself into a sitting position. Brad’s eyes graze down Nate’s chest to his groin, groaning softly at Nate’s obvious erection.
“You’re killing me.” Brad informs him, kneeling against the end of the bed. “Deliberately. That’s just not nice.”
Nate gets to his knees and reaches for Brad, tugging him in and kissing him. Brad laughs against his mouth and lets Nate pull him back down onto the bed, settling easily between Nate’s legs. “Good morning.”
Brad slides his hands under Nate’s shoulder blades, bodies pressed closer. “Morning.” He kisses Nate again, tasting the warm taste of sleep on his tongue, feeling the scratch of Nate’s stubble against his sensitive skin. “You got in late.”
“Mmm.” Nate kisses him again, his hands curving over Brad’s ass and effectively ending the conversation. Brad’s hips roll forward and Nate groans into his mouth as he tugs Brad’s shirt out of his shorts.
“Knock.”
Brad jerks back and scrambles away from Nate, landing hard on his ass as he falls off the end of the bed. Grace is standing there, hands locked on the bowl containing her few remaining Cheerios. She blinks at Nate and then turns to Brad.
“Knock.”
“Knock? What the…oh. Right. Knock. On the door. If you need something.” He runs a hand across the top of his scalp and gets to his feet. “More cereal?” He doesn’t dare look at Nate, sure that he’s laughing and Brad’s not quite up to seeing the humor in any of this.
Nate manages to keep his voice even. “At least we know she can talk.”
Brad glares at Nate as he ushers Grace out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen. This is not his life.
Part II
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Brad/Nate
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: And the hard part begins
DISCLAIMER: Generation Kill and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight and alethialia and hackthis and shoshannagold for beta and general all-around awesome.
Brad’s mom is many things - a worrier, a busybody, prone to surprises when Brad least expects or desires them - but she’s definitely not an alarmist. So when Brad gets the message on his phone that he needs to get home now, he doesn’t waste time explaining anything to anyone. He breaks the speed limit most of the way there, trying to shut down his mind as it tries to bring up possibilities. There are too many variables and he doesn’t have enough intel, so he doesn’t let himself get lost in ‘what if’s, as tempting as they are. He just keeps breathing the hot California air as it rushes at him, reassuring himself that everything’s okay.
It’s the first time in his life he’s ever even really thought about just dumping the bike and rushing inside, but he doesn’t. He parks it and gets off, looking at the house for clues. Nate’s car pulls up behind him and Brad lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Hey.” He stows his helmet on the bike as Nate climbs out of the car, his eyes looking Brad over intently, his gray suit rumpled. “My mom call you, too?”
“Yeah. She wouldn’t explain anything. Just said it was important. I was a little worried you’d done something stupid.”
“I resent that, Fick.” Brad falls in step with Nate as he heads toward the front door, falling behind just enough that he has a reason to touch the small of Nate’s back and guide him in the door. Nate smiles at him over his shoulder, stopping just inside. Brad stumbles into Nate, blinking to adjust his eyes. “What the fuck is that?”
His mother looks up at him and smiles a smile that Brad’s seen five times in his life - when she found out what he did when the secretary left him alone in the elementary school office when he was in kindergarten, when he blew up the science department, when she sent him off to military school, when he told her that he fell firmly in the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ camp, and now. “Watch your language, Bradley.”
“That’s a kid.”
“Yes.” His mom nods calmly, bouncing the thing on her knee. Brad knows nothing about kids, but the ribbon pinned in the wisps of hair makes him suspect it’s a girl, though he’s not sure why she’s here or how she got here. “More specifically, Bradley, she’s your kid.”
Nate’s silent and Brad’s behind him, so he can’t actually see his expression, which he thinks might be a good thing. “I don’t have a kid.”
“Actually, you do. Do you remember Julia Griffin?”
“No.” Brad’s hands rest on Nate’s hips, grounding himself against him, holding on to something that makes sense.
“She lived next door. When you came home from Iraq. Right before you went to England.”
Heat fuses Brad to the floor and he feels Nate stiffen in his grip. That hadn’t been their best time - Nate going to Harvard, Brad going to England, both of them trying to do the “right thing”, whatever the fuck that was. It hadn’t been being together. It hadn’t been being apart. It had just been being and not looking forward or back. “Ah. Right. Vaguely.”
“I’m so glad she made an impression.” His mom gets to her feet and Brad remembers why he is the way he is. “You apparently made a much stronger one on her.”
“That’s…No.” Brad shakes his head and steps out from behind Nate, aware that he’s hiding and that Nate doesn’t deserve that. “No.”
“This is Grace, Brad.”
“I don’t have a kid, Mom. You remember the thing where I sleep with guys?”
His mom’s eyes flash and Brad feels his cheeks darken. Fuck, put him back in this house and he’s eight-years-old again. “I’m well aware of your preference in partners, dear.” She holds the little girl’s hand and guides her through the several shaky steps she needs to get to Brad. “I’m also aware that you aren’t always so selective. Especially when you’re upset and drunk and your significant other-” Here she throws a sharp look at Nate, “Has just told you that he thinks you’d be better off not trying to sustain a long-distance relationship.”
“Wait. Wait. Julia lives next door. If I’d gotten her pregnant, you’d have known. You’d…how…” Brad clears his throat. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll get them.” Nate veers off into the kitchen, and Brad can’t see his face at all, though he recognizes the body language far better than he wants to. The kid is looking up at Brad, her eyes blue and wide, her blonde hair flying haphazardly around her head. She’s dressed in a dirty green sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans.
“Julia left town.” His mother’s voice has softened, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s sticking to the same story. “Had the baby. Was living with a boyfriend somewhere up near Seattle.”
“See. A boyfriend.” Brad gives his mom a look he knows must be desperate. It feels desperate. “It’s got to be the boyfriend’s.”
“Julia took off. He brought the baby back and offered to get a paternity test. He said Julia always said the baby’s dad was some guy named Brad.”
“There are a lot of guys named Brad, Mom.” He refuses to squat down, even as the kid grabs at his leg, holding onto his jeans. “Probably a few that slept with Julia.”
“Three years ago?”
“Yeah. I mean…” He looks down at the little girl and then at his mom. “I can’t have a kid. I’m a Marine, Mom.”
“Marines have kids.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you mean, Brad, it’s not this little girl’s fault.”
“That doesn’t make her my responsibility, Mom.”
“Well, according to Julia’s parents and her birth certificate, it does.” His mom picks the kid up so she’s nearly eye-level with Brad. “Say hello to Grace Colbert, Bradley.”
Brad looks at the little girl. Her face is dirty and she’s too thin, but all he’s really conscious of is the fact that Nate hasn’t come back with the drinks yet and the fact that this is not a conversation he ever planned to have with his mother. “I’m careful, Mom.”
“Look at her, Brad.”
He tries very hard not to do that. “I need to talk to Nate.”
His mom sighs and takes a step back. Brad’s gaze follows Grace, then he deliberately looks away and heads to the kitchen. Nate’s not there, but Brad spies him on the back deck, so he follows him outside. Nate’s standing by the railing, so Brad leans against the side of the house, hands behind his back.
“I didn’t know. I still don’t know.” He knows that’s not the point, but it bears repeating. “I told you about Julia.”
“I know.” Nate’s hands are in his pockets, ruining the line of his suit.
“I would have mentioned a kid, Nate.”
Nate turns and looks at Brad evenly, his normally expressive eyes carefully blank. “I know, Brad.”
“Okay.” Brad pushes off the wall and straightens as Nate turns back around. Brad’s head tells him to go inside, but he does his best not to listen to his head when he’s on leave, especially when it comes to Nate. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Nate’s waist, resting his forehead against the back of Nate’s head.
Nate inhales deeply and then lets the breath out slowly. “I kind of thought the whole sleeping with guys thing was going to preclude having kids.”
“Yeah. Join the crowd.” Brad closes his eyes as Nate relaxes back against him. “I’m sorry Mom sprung this on you too.”
“We’re together, aren’t we?” Nate turns in the circle of Brad’s arms so he’s looking at Brad.
“Well…yeah.” They don’t talk about this, both of them knowing words lie, actions are their truth. They had something like a goodbye after Nate’s paddle party and then they’d left it alone. They’d been friends until Brad had come back from England and Iraq again and all he wanted was to see Nate, to settle the ache that had been burning inside him. They hadn’t talked about the future, they’d simply started spending all their free time together, coordinating their schedules.
“Well, I imagine that’s why.” Nate takes his hands out of his pockets and rests them on top of Brad’s. “So, you are aware that condoms work with girls, too, right?”
Brad almost smiles, pressing the slight smirk against Nate’s neck. “Hey, considering how many girls I’ve slept with, if I’ve only got one kid, I think my average is pretty good.”
“You’re a horrible homosexual.” Nate laughs softly, closing his eyes as Brad’s teeth graze his neck. His body relaxes more even though Brad can feel the underlying tension.
“Hmm.” The noise reverberates against Nate’s skin. “Not the impression you gave me last night.”
Nate huffs a husky laugh. “I’m relatively certain that turning me on while on your parents’ back porch is a bad idea, even when there aren’t other issues to deal with.”
“Right.” Brad drops his head to Nate’s shoulder and breathes for a few moments. “You realize that’s a girl, right?”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Nate leans his head against Brad’s. “The first girl.”
“Unless your sister’s one on the way plans on changing in utero, the first girl on both sides.” Brad curses softly and eloquently under his breath. “What the fuck do I do with a kid, Nate? I’m a Marine. I’m active duty. I get sent into some of the most dangerous places and situations in the world.”
Nate’s voice is softer than a whisper, and it guts Brad worse than a K-bar. “Is she yours?”
Brad nods only once. “Yeah. I think so.”
Nate turns his head a little more and kisses Brad’s temple. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
**
Brad stands over the bed, his brow furrowed. The kid - Grace, a voice in his head that sounds far too much like his mother’s exasperated one snaps - is cleaned up and asleep. His mom had taken the sweatshirt off of her and with just a t-shirt and jeans on, she looks half her original size.
“She’s malnourished,” he hears his mom saying to Nate. “Underweight. She doesn’t talk that they know of. There are some bruises, but no broken bones that they saw on the X-rays, so they could just be childhood bruises.”
“Did he say how long he’d had her?”
“No. He just dumped her on their doorstep, said a few choice words about Julia and left.”
Brad squats down, his face closer to the ki…Grace’s. He can see himself in her, whatever that means. He doesn’t subscribe to the usual idea of what family is. He was adopted and never gave a shit about his birth parents because he had all the family he needed. He forged a family with his men in combat situations, and now, he has Nate. This…person…is the first thing in his life that’s part of him, that could claim a right to any kind of binding ownership.
“And Julia’s parents?” Nate’s voice is soft.
“Well, they’re a little concerned for Julia right now. They had no idea she was pregnant or anything else.” Brad’s mother’s scorn is pretty easy to hear, and Brad almost feels sorry for Julia’s parents when they come knocking on the door again. “I imagine after they find her and straighten everything out there, they’ll focus on Grace.”
Brad shifts a little closer, inspecting her. His job is figuring things out, and he has a talent that goes beyond just training and practice. He understands machines and orders and how to make people do what he wants, but people themselves are like little mysteries he can’t quite fathom.
“Grace.” Brad says her name softly, and it suits her in a way. She’s delicate and frail, old-fashioned despite her Dora the Explorer t-shirt. She makes a soft noise and then opens her eyes, wide and blue and blinking with nearly invisible blonde eyelashes. Brad shifts his position slightly and meets her gaze head on. “Hey.”
She doesn’t react at all for a long time and then she closes her eyes again. He watches her lashes fall on her cheeks, fluttering there the same way Nate’s do when he’s dreaming. He realizes his mother and Nate have gone silent, which probably means they’re staring at him like he’s grown another head or, more accurately, suddenly found out he has a kid. He straightens up and looks at his mother.
“She’ll have to stay here tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
Nate purses his lips together and Brad ignores him. “I’ve just got the bike and Nate doesn’t have a car seat. Neither do you for that matter. So she’ll have to stay here tonight. I’ll pick some stuff up tomorrow morning and come and get her.”
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten a few things, Bradley.”
He looks away from the hint of Nate’s smile to his mother’s eyes. “Just because we’re all grown doesn’t mean you don’t know how to handle kids. Besides you have grandkids, and I know you know how to deal with them.”
“I meant perhaps you could ask instead of order me around like one of your Marines.”
“Oh.” Brad glances down at Grace. “Would you watch her?”
“She’s my granddaughter, Brad. Of course I will.”
Something in her voice catches and Brad looks at her, sees it on her face before she can hide it. As much as she’s supported him, as much as she’s been there for him, when it all comes down to it there are a couple of things she can’t quite deny. Brad isn’t her son. This isn’t her granddaughter. And Brad’s decision to be with Nate means that this is the only not-quite-grandchild Brad will be giving her.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” His chest aches, and he can’t help but think about the boy Trombley shot in Iraq, about the little girl Doc spent two hours working on even though they all knew it wasn’t going to save her life. He clears his throat as her eyes jerk back to his face and he hides it better than she does. “Imagine you didn’t expect your Wednesday to go like this.”
“No.” She shakes her head. Brad comes by his attitude and self-defense mechanisms honestly. “This really is more of a Thursday thing.” Stepping back out of the doorway, she gives Nate a thin smile. “I’ll make up a list of things you’ll need. Excuse me.”
Brad’s head falls back and he sighs heavily. “Fuck.”
“I’ll wait here for the list,” Nate says. “Why don’t you take the long way home and get some air? Clear your head.”
Brad tilts his head and looks at Nate, his smile feeling as fragile as Grace seems in the middle of the queen sized bed. “No amount of fresh air is going to fix this.”
“No,” Nate agrees softly and glances toward the kitchen where Brad’s mom disappeared. “But I think leaving might keep it from getting any worse.”
**
The hood of Nate’s car is cool by the time Brad parks the bike beside it, which is indication enough of how long he’s been out on the road. The fact that his face feels numb is secondary but to be expected, given that he doesn’t think he’s really felt anything since he walked into his parents’ house that afternoon.
Brad lets himself in and locks the door behind him. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the hook on the wall and takes a deep breath. He’s ridden into certain death in a fucking sardine can with no batteries and no gun lube. He can face this. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and walks into the living room, watching Nate for a second from the doorway.
He’s golden in the light from the lamp, his legs stretched out in front of him and his bare feet on the ottoman. He’s got his glasses on, which means he’s working or at least trying, and whatever he’s drinking looks strong and dangerous even from across the room. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”
“Oh, Lucy.” Nate’s accent is horrible, but his smile makes up for it. “What crazy thing did you get up to today?”
“Oh, Ricky.” Brad walks across the small room and sinks down next to Nate’s chair, leaning in to kiss him. It’s hot and hard and more than a little bit desperate. Nate tastes like good scotch and Brad growls, moving up over the arm of the chair and climbing into Nate’s lap. The teasing is gone and Nate’s kissing him back, just as hungry, his hands clawing at Brad’s clothes. It’s like the night at Al Kut, riding high on adrenaline and fear and the bitter aftertaste of death, not caring about MOPP suits or protocol or anything but touching, feeling. “Nate. Fuck.”
Nate doesn’t answer in words. Instead he straightens up and pushes Brad back, angling him off the chair and onto the floor. He follows him down, pinning Brad to the ground and kissing him, his lips and teeth and tongue mounting an attack on Brad’s mouth, ravaging it. He fucks Brad’s mouth with an intense viciousness that makes Brad groan, hands fisting in Nate’s hair, tugging at the long strands until Nate’s making pained noises against his mouth but not pulling away.
They break the kiss, both of them gasping for air. Brad takes advantage of the distance to reach down and tug at Nate’s shirt, pushing it up his stomach. Nate pulls away enough to jerk it over his head and Brad levers himself off the floor, getting Nate beneath him. He finds Nate’s neck and shoulder. Kissing him isn’t enough, so he sucks and bites at the smooth skin, needing to taste him, devour him. Nate’s lost the golden glow from the lamp and from the lifetime ago they spent in Iraq, so his skin is pale, flushing with every touch of Brad’s mouth.
Nate pulls Brad’s shirt over his head, separating them long enough to get rid of it. Brad moves right back in, lower now, finding the hard nub of Nate’s nipple and capturing it with his teeth. Nate groans, arching up off the floor, and Brad uses his tongue, flicking the pebbled skin until Nate’s body is barely on the carpet, bowing upward to Brad’s mouth. “Nate.” Brad groans his name, sliding his hands beneath Nate’s back and holding him against his lips, tasting him. “God, Nate. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Nate pushes Brad away and shakes his head with a quick jerk, pushing Brad against the side of the chair. He straddles his lap and kisses him, fingers digging into Brad’s scalp to hold him still. Brad’s hands splay across Nate’s back and stroke upward, curving along bone and muscle as Nate plunders his mouth, tasting every surface, his tongue dueling with Brad’s. It’s sharp, their rhythm off, lost in some mix of pleasure and pain until Brad aches everywhere. He slides his hands down to Nate’s ass and pulls him closer, both of them groaning at the pressure as Nate’s cock grinds against his through their clothes, through the denim and the wool of Nate's suit. Brad’s hips rock upward on their own accord and once Nate responds, Brad can’t stop, arms wrapping tighter around Nate so he can’t move away. They move together desperately, Brad’s cock jutting up, sliding along Nate’s with every upward stroke.
Nate drops his head to Brad’s neck, burrowing at the juncture of his throat and shoulder, his breath hot on Brad’s skin. Their bodies keep moving, given over completely as Nate’s knees dig into Brad’s thighs, Brad’s fingers no doubt leaving an arc of bruises on Nate’s ass. Brad slams his head back against the arm of the chair and cries out, his body going stiff as his orgasm sparks through him. Nate moans and bites at Brad’s neck, teeth biting into the flesh as he presses closer, coming with the same level of shaking intensity.
Brad swallows hard, trying to catch his breath and failing. He sucks in as much air as he can, rasping and gasping until his head stops spinning. The arm of the chair holds his head at an awkward angle, exacerbated by Nate’s head tucked against his neck, but he doesn’t move, isn’t sure he can. He manages to get a hand up to the back of Nate’s head and strokes his hair before curving his palm against Nate’s nape. His voice barely breaks a whisper. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
“Shh.” Nate moves back just enough to kiss him, this one different than before. This one is softer, calmer and Brad meets Nate’s gaze. “Let’s go to bed.”
**
“Does fucking Mattel own the rights to every fucking piece of clothing a little girl wears?” Brad snarls at yet another pink…thing. Nate and his sister keep assuring him that everything has a proper name, but to Brad it’s all a sea of pink. Pink with ruffles. Pink with stripes. Pink with polka dots. Pink with stars. Pink with fucking feathers. Even worse is that Brad’s pretty sure that even someone Grace’s size would look underdressed in most of it, like a hooker walking the streets of Candy Land looking for a good time. “It’s like fucking Barbie puked in here.”
“Brad,” Nate bites his lip to keep from laughing, and it serves to distract Brad from his rant, given that Nate’s lips are still swollen. Brad sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth, pushing his tongue against the cut from Nate’s teeth. “They call it ‘Kids R Us’ because there are kids here.”
His sister, Kate, smacks him with a handful of clothes. “People are staring.”
“People aren’t staring. They’re blinded by all the pink.” He glances down at the pile she picked out. “No. No. No. No fucking way. No.”
“Brad.”
“Kate.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I refuse to have the kid dressed like a doll or a whore. How is that being impossible? I mean, beyond the fact that these clothes make it that way?” He glances over and sees a woman looking at him and his eyes narrow slightly. “Ma’am. Would you dress a two year old in this?” He holds up what Kate assures him is a complete outfit, though as far as he can tell it’s three scraps of fabric held together with sequins and a picture of some floppy-haired, pretty-boy faggot she tells him is Zac Efron. “And expect the child to grow up with any kind of self-esteem at all?”
The woman snaps her mouth shut and moves out of the clothing area quickly. Brad tosses the clothes back at Kate.
“No.”
“She’s a girl, Brad. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with them…”
“Since growing up with my two sisters completely turned me off of them.”
Nate sets two pairs of small jeans in Brad’s hands. “Here.”
Brad unfolds them and looks at them dubiously. “They make these this small?”
“They do.”
“Huh.” Brad turns them around and then back again. “And no pink. Nate, I could kiss you.”
“Yeah, and if you’d stuck to that, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Kate grumbles under her breath as she heads back into the bowels of the girls’ clothing section. Brad manages a tight smile and tosses the jeans in the nearly overflowing cart. “Girls like pink, Brad!”
“Ignore her.” Brad rubs his forehead and looks over the list. “Why do kids need everything smaller? Spoons. Chairs. Forks. Plates. Cups. It’s some sort of evil enterprise.”
“Well, if that’s the case, when you’re asked to invade, maybe you can bring Grace along.” Nate’s smiling, but Brad knows things are still off between them. Worse, probably, after the sex, even though he’d hoped it might fix something, remind them that they work together, they go together. “What are you going to do about a car?”
Brad watches as Kate throws clothes into the cart, daring him with a look to say a word. Resigning himself to some pink, he looks at Nate instead of challenging her. “I’ll have to get one, I guess. And I’ll need to buy food. Do they have a kid section in the supermarkets?” He glances back as Kate comes up again. “No. Put that one back.”
“I’m buying it for her. I’m her aunt; I get to do that.”
“I will burn it like the pagan sacrifice it obviously is.” He holds her gaze, both of them challenging each other. “Katherine.”
“Bradley.” She takes a step closer and deliberately puts the pink and white ruffled…thing on his cart. “All the children in this family are boys. This is my only opportunity to buy something pink and frilly and cute, and you are not taking it away from me. I will buy this dress, and I will put your daughter in it and I will make her frolic. I will make her look like a princess and if you so much as raise a finger to try to stop me, I will tell Mom about what really happened that day at the park.”
“One.” He bites out the word. “One dress. That’s it.”
“As pink and as frilly as I want.”
“Fine.” He curls his hands tight around the handle of the cart as Kate smiles, moving off toward the diapers. “Why did we invite her?”
“Feminine perspective.”
“Evil. She’s pure evil.” Brad glances at Nate. “You don’t have to work today?”
“I do. Later.” He smiles up at Brad, and Brad smiles back, watching Nate’s eyes, trying to read him. He doesn’t like Nate hiding from him, even worse here in plain sight. “You’ll have to manage your first dinner by yourself.”
“Nate.” Brad reaches over, brushes the back of his fingers over Nate’s hand. Nate doesn’t pull away, doesn’t react at all. Brad drops his voice. “Are we okay?”
Kate piles a box of diapers and another box of baby wipes on the cart. “Okay. That’s everything on the list. Now, let’s go. I have to pick Zach up from school.”
“You can go on ahead, Kate.”
“Yeah, like I’d trust you guys to put in a car seat.”
“We’re Marines. Highly trained Marines, Kate.”
“Yeah, but you’re also boys and idiots. So I’ll put the car seat in so that Grace doesn’t end up sliding across the back seat when you decide to take a corner like you’re on your bike.” She pushes the cart, turning it toward the cashiers. “Besides, if I leave you alone, you’ll dump out half this stuff as unnecessary and Mom will kill me. And you, but mostly me. So. Let’s go spend your combat bonus, shall we?”
“Obviously I’ve pissed off some higher power.” Brad follows Kate. “Possibly even higher than Mattis. My mother, maybe. My grandmother. Fuck, when Ruth hears about this, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
“Your grandmother will be thrilled to have a little girl to frighten.” Nate stops at a display and grabs something off of it, jogging a few steps to catch up with Brad. “And eventually Grace will wrinkle her nose and run in fear at the scent of peonies like the rest of us do.” He holds up a small fuzzy dog and points it at Brad. “What do you think?”
“I think she’ll love it.” Brad swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Nate…”
He shakes his head and sets the dog in the basket. “Don’t worry. We’re okay.”
“Nate.”
Nate looks over at him and smiles something sad that makes Brad’s chest hurt. “We will be.”
**
Brad looks dubiously at the car in his mother’s driveway. It’s as generic and homely as a car can possibly be, and he’s relatively certain if he tries to fold himself inside it, he’s going to permanently damage something important. “I can’t drive this, Mom.”
“What’s wrong with it, honey?”
“Did you look at it? I mean, I know that you don’t see me all that often, but I’ve been well over six foot since I was fifteen. That car isn’t even six feet long.”
“It’s number one in safety for all the crash test ratings.” She frowns as she watches Grace move from flower to flower in the front yard, leaning in and pressing her face against the petals and leaves. “Grace, honey. Be careful.”
“How about I promise not to get into a crash and we find me a car I can actually fit into without folding myself in two?”
“You’re being deliberately difficult.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You always do this. You don’t get your way, so you get all petulant. You’re like a child.” His mom smiles at him. “You and Grace should get along famously.”
“You’re not funny.” He glances over at Grace. She’s sitting on the ground in front of his mother’s daisies, plucking petals one after the other. “You know I have no idea what to do with a child.”
“But you now possess every toy that was rated for a two-year-old, so you should be fine. I hope someone warned you that nowadays all those toys make some sort of noise, and your sisters will both be paying you back in spades for the drum sets.”
Brad leans against the car and glances in the back seat where the car seat is securely locked in. There are bags in the trunk and more in the passenger seat filled with toys and clothes and diapers. He glances over at Grace again and sighs. “What am I going to do, Mom?”
“What a ridiculous question.” She looks at him, humor replaced with seriousness. “You’re going to be a good father.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You take care of her. You teach her right from wrong. You help her. You hold her hand when she needs you to and you let go when you think you can’t. You explain the difference between fantasy and reality, you tell her how quantum physics applies to deep sea diving. You teach her what you know and give her everything you have. You love her.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“I didn’t know you when we picked you up from the hospital.” She ducks her head so that she’s looking directly into his eyes. “I loved you.”
“You wanted me. You went looking for me.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want this. I don’t want this. I want…hell, Mom, I have enough problems trying to live the parts of my life that I lie about and you want me to raise a kid? With that? You want me to…”
“I don’t want you to do anything, Bradley, except face up to the fact that, whether or not you planned this, you are a father.” Her voice breaks and she blinks rapidly, her lashes spiking with tears. “You are her father, and you’re going to have to accept that. Deal with it. All I’ve heard since you graduated was that you’re a Marine. Well be a Marine then.” She turns on her heel and heads for the house. “Make do.”
**
Grace sits on the floor and stares at him. She’s been doing it since he fed her a dinner of grilled chicken breasts and peas, blinking her big, wide eyes like something out of a Disney cartoon, and refusing to look away from him. The house is quiet without music or the television, and even his laptop is silent. In fact, the only sound in the apartment is the quiet filter of his fish tank, their breathing and the soft movement of the clock.
“Okay.”
She jumps at the sound of his voice and huddles in on herself. Brad frowns and shifts forward in his seat, freezing when she withdraws further. Great. Just fucking great. It’s two in the morning, he has a kid who’s petrified of him and Ray hung up on him when he tried to call and explain he wouldn’t be at the cookout at Wynn’s house the next day. Not to mention the fact that he’s been hoping Nate would come over after work and, as of yet, that hasn’t happened.
“I’m kind of thinking I need a new religion, you know that? Get some Christianity in my life just so I can have more than one person to curse at.” He exhales. “I bought you some pajamas. And it’s late. Well, early. So we should get you changed into them. Somehow.” He’s done this before, so there shouldn’t be this sheer terror clawing at his stomach. He’s babysat Poke’s kids plenty of times - feeding, bathing, dressing, bandaging, soothing, rocking, burping. He’s done it all with no real thought to the process, so this shouldn’t be any different. “They’re purple. The pajamas. Do you like purple?”
Grace regards him with those eyes and then blinks slowly, drifting toward sleep. Brad stands up slowly, carefully, and moves over to her, picking her up and easing her against his shoulder. He hasn’t held her until now, has only picked her up to load her into and out of the car or her booster seat at the table. She settles against him, whatever fear he’d startled into her eased now. She wraps her arms around his neck and he fits her on his hip, leading her into the second bedroom. Up until that afternoon, this was his computer room, but now it’s a computer room with a toddler bed shoved up against one wall.
She smells like powder and lotion and her breath fans against his jaw, a soft snore surprising a smile out of him. “Okay. No pajamas tonight. But don’t get used to it. We’re going to have rules in this house. Regulations.” He lays her carefully on the bed, covering her up with a pale green sheet and a brown and pink quilt. A soft, shaky breath falls past her lips and Brad watches her settle in before glancing at the clock and sighing, knowing he needs to stop watching the clock, knowing it won’t make Nate show up on his doorstep, knowing he needs his head in the here and now, not in the what was a few days ago. “You’re kind of fucking up my life, Grace. What am I supposed to do with you?”
She lets out another breath and rolls over, facing the wall. She’s still curled in on herself and Brad leans against the doorframe, watching, waiting for her to relax. It never happens and he finally gives up, dragging himself to bed. He’s trained to sleep whenever there’s a free moment to do so, but he can’t quite manage it tonight.
His alarm goes off at its usual early time and he groans, reaching to shut it off and encountering a bed full of Nate. Somehow, he not only managed to fall asleep, but he did it on Nate’s side of the bed, so he has to angle over him to shut off the sound. Nate grumbles, but slides a hand along Brad’s hip, so after he gets the alarm turned off, Brad stays where he is, pressing his mouth to a convenient spot on Nate’s skin. “Time you get in?”
“Shh. Sleeping.” Nate tugs Brad up for a kiss and then pushes him back on the bed, moving over to lay on Brad’s chest. Brad wraps his arms around him and holds him, closing his eyes and breathing the warm scent of Nate. “C’n watch her ‘f you want to go surf.”
Brad shakes his head and tightens his arms. “Here’s good.” He smiles as Nate slips a knee between both of Brad’s legs, effectively laying on top of him. He kisses the top of Nate’s head and matches their breathing, one hand sliding slowly up and down Nate’s back. Nate makes a soft sound and moves closer still. Brad’s pretty sure he’s still smiling when he falls asleep.
**
Waking up the second time is much better than the first. Nate is still sprawled on top of him, his lips parted slightly, which causes Brad’s dick to twitch. He’s considering dragging Nate’s mouth up to his and kissing him senseless before sliding down and doing other things when he turns his head and finds himself face to face with Grace.
“Holy sh…” Brad takes a breath and wonders how she managed to get there without him hearing her. He clears his throat. “Morning.” He looks her over. She’s dressed in her clothes still, but her pants and the lower half of her shirt are soaked. “Okay. Diaper change before bed next time. Good to know. Let’s go clean you up.”
He eases out from under Nate despite Nate’s grumblings and takes Grace by the hand. She follows along docilely, blinking at him with those damned eyes. Her bed is a mess as well and he strips the sheets off of it and tosses them in a pile by the door.
“Okay. Bathroom. Right.” He takes her hand again and leads her into the bathroom, kneeling down in front of her to take her clothes off. Whatever bruises his mother noticed have faded now to just the dull hint of greenish-yellow. He tosses her wet clothes in the corner and strips her diaper off of her. “I’ve worn these. Trust me. I know how uncomfortable you are. Try wearing one in a MOPP suit. Hot, sweaty, covered in piss and shit. Not fun. It’s even worse when you’ve got hair down there, trust me. Not that you need to think about that. Fuck. What the hell do two-year-olds talk about?” He guides her to the bathtub and has her stand there while he fills it with warm water. “You like baths?”
She doesn’t say anything, but she does look down into the water, reaching to touch it, imitating Brad as he keeps his fingers under the spraying faucet. She smiles a little and slaps her hand against the water, jerking back as it splashes back at her. Brad turns off the water and then lifts her, settling her on the floor of the tub.
“Okay. I don’t have any toys for the bathtub. Apparently Mom left something off the list.” He reaches for his soap and then stops. “And you probably don’t want to smell like this. Okay. Um…” He grabs the bottle of baby shampoo and pours a little into his hands, rubbing them together for bubbles before he starts washing her cool skin. “No more tears, so please don’t cry. I have no idea what to do with crying once you’re past the need for a bottle.” Her skin is soft and he adjusts his touch to suit it. “So, Grace. Did you sleep well?”
More blinking and Brad blows out a breath. Grace pulls away from his touch and lays down on her back in the tub, surrounded by soap bubbles. She lifts her hands up and then slams them down on the surface of the water, laughing as it splashes up again, soaking her face and Brad.
“Loves the water. Good to know.” Brad grabs a towel and dries off his face. “Swimming lessons then surfing lessons, huh?”
She keeps splashing and he moves up onto the commode to watch her. The bathroom’s going to be a mess of water and baby shampoo, but she’s happy and laughing and it’s pretty much the first sound he’s heard her make. He rubs his face, wincing at the rough stubble there. He needs a shower and a shave and a very stiff drink while he figures out what he’s going to do. He’s got another month at Pendleton and then he’s supposed to ship out again, and that means he’s got less than a month to fix this.
He realizes the sound has stopped and he looks over at Grace again. She’s sitting up in the tub looking at him. She looks completely bedraggled and he sinks back down beside the tub. “Okay, what do you say we use this shampoo the way nature intended?” She’s completely obedient through the entire operation, even when he guides her head back to the faucet and lets the water fall down over her hair. A bit of it gets down into her eyes, but she just blinks it away.
He leaves her standing beside the tub shivering while he goes through his towels, looking for one that seems soft enough for her. He finally picks one and wraps it around her, drying her off quickly. Her hair is thin and white-blonde and it flies everywhere around her face.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to suggest a buzz cut.” He smiles at her and finishes drying her off. Wrapping the towel around her again, he picks her up and carries her into her room. Her clothes and diapers are stacked against the wall until he can find a dresser, so he grabs a diaper and looks at her and frowns. “Okay. Um. Lay down?”
She sits on the floor, and he figures that’s a start. He also figures he’s going to have to find a way to communicate with her that doesn’t sound like he’s giving orders to a dog. Or a grunt.
He guides her onto her back and opens up the diaper, managing to get it on her without too much fuss. After that it’s jeans and a t-shirt and, because he couldn’t manage to avoid it, a pair of socks with ruffles at the ankle. “Yeah. I’m sorry about your aunt Kate. She’s kind of evil.” He looks her over and smiles, finger combing her hair. “So, um…I’m Brad. Your father, apparently. If and when you decide to talk, you can call me…Dad, I guess. Or Brad. And you met your grandma. And Kate. You met Aunt Kate. And there’s Nate. He was there that first day. I have another sister and she and Kate both have boys. You’ll meet them. I fully expect you to be able to kick their asses in a couple of weeks. And tomorrow there’s a cookout. So you’ll meet…” He groans and looks her in the eye. “You’ll meet everybody else that matters, other than Nate’s family. But don’t worry. There won’t be a quiz. You want to watch TV?”
She nods and Brad sighs with relief. He guides her out to the living room and turns on the set, flipping through channels to try to find something educational or at least cartoonish. The only animated stuff he owns runs more toward ‘Fritz the Cat’ and ‘Heavy Metal’ so he’s not quite equipped for the Sesame Street set. He finds the familiar flash of blue that is Grover and stops, about to settle her in with that when Elmo comes on the screen.
“No. Sorry. Can’t do it, kid.” He flips a few more channels until he finds The Discovery Channel and settles her in with something about bugs. Kids like bugs, he’s pretty sure. “You like Cheerios?” He doesn’t wait for her answer, just goes to the kitchen and pours her a bowl and brings it back, setting it in the chair next to her. “I’m going to go shower. If you need anything, knock. Or…” Nate’s in the bedroom, but getting woken up by someone other than Brad probably isn’t on his to-do list. Of course, given that Grace is awake, Brad won’t be waking Nate up in his traditional manner anyway. “Knock. On the bathroom door.”
He showers, keeping an ear out for any screams of pain. Of course, given her silence so far, he’s not sure she would scream if she were in pain. He tugs on his boxer-briefs as soon as he’s dried off, opening the door to vent the steam as well as to give him a better chance of hearing her. He shaves carefully then wipes the extra cream off his face, peeking in on Grace from the hallway.
She’s sitting on her knees right in front of the TV, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, and she’s shoving more Cheerios in, but she doesn’t seem to be in danger of choking, so he heads to the bedroom and tugs on a pair of olive green shorts and a USMC t-shirt. Nate’s sprawled face-down on the bed, the sheet at his hips granting Brad an unobstructed view of the planes and muscles of Nate’s back. There are faint red streaks from Brad’s nails the other night since Nate’s fair skin shows every mark. “Come back to bed.”
“Grace is watching TV.”
“All the more reason to come back to bed.” Nate turns over and grins at him, pulling himself into a sitting position. Brad’s eyes graze down Nate’s chest to his groin, groaning softly at Nate’s obvious erection.
“You’re killing me.” Brad informs him, kneeling against the end of the bed. “Deliberately. That’s just not nice.”
Nate gets to his knees and reaches for Brad, tugging him in and kissing him. Brad laughs against his mouth and lets Nate pull him back down onto the bed, settling easily between Nate’s legs. “Good morning.”
Brad slides his hands under Nate’s shoulder blades, bodies pressed closer. “Morning.” He kisses Nate again, tasting the warm taste of sleep on his tongue, feeling the scratch of Nate’s stubble against his sensitive skin. “You got in late.”
“Mmm.” Nate kisses him again, his hands curving over Brad’s ass and effectively ending the conversation. Brad’s hips roll forward and Nate groans into his mouth as he tugs Brad’s shirt out of his shorts.
“Knock.”
Brad jerks back and scrambles away from Nate, landing hard on his ass as he falls off the end of the bed. Grace is standing there, hands locked on the bowl containing her few remaining Cheerios. She blinks at Nate and then turns to Brad.
“Knock.”
“Knock? What the…oh. Right. Knock. On the door. If you need something.” He runs a hand across the top of his scalp and gets to his feet. “More cereal?” He doesn’t dare look at Nate, sure that he’s laughing and Brad’s not quite up to seeing the humor in any of this.
Nate manages to keep his voice even. “At least we know she can talk.”
Brad glares at Nate as he ushers Grace out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen. This is not his life.
Part II