(Extra December) Ficlet - 2
For little_missmimi who wanted Generation Kill: Brad/Nate - follow up to 21 guns
Brad doesn’t look up as someone sits next to him at the bar. He simply signals the bartender and nods to his left, picking up his own drink and taking a sip. The bartender sets a glass down in front of the man beside him and Brad watches long, tapered fingers pick it up. “I’d ask what a nice guy like you is doing in a place like this…”
“But you already know.” Nate sips his drink and smiles at Brad’s reflection in the mirror. “And given that that’s what you’re here for too, you don’t have much room to talk.”
“Fair enough.” It’s been weeks, almost a month that they’ve been seeing each other. Brad knows he should end it, because it’s on the verge of becoming something more, and he really doesn’t need some sweet young thing who is both balls and brains and just the perfect thing to put Brad’s ass in the fire. He’s perfectly capable of screwing up his own life. He really doesn’t need any help.
Nate finishes his drink and sets the glass on the counter, turning his head to look at Brad. There’s something in his face that makes Brad wonder if Nate knows what he’s thinking. He wouldn’t be surprised. Nate’s proven surprisingly good at doing just that, and not just in the bedroom. His voice is soft, affectionate. Everything Brad doesn’t want or need. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Some would say I’m not thinking enough. Or not thinking with the right body part.” He finishes his own drink and closes his eyes for a minute, wondering where his life went wrong. He’s pretty sure it was the second he decided to first step foot in this bar. Or maybe - and this is the part that scares the shit out of him - maybe that’s when his life started going right. “You ready to head out?”
Nate nods. “But we’re not going to your place.”
“No?”
Nate shakes his head and slides two tickets along the bar. They’re for a hockey game that starts in about an hour. “I thought we’d do something a little different tonight.”
“Does that mean I’m not getting laid?”
“That depends.”
Brad pauses for a moment, then gives in. “On what?”
Nate stands up and eases his coat on. “On which team wins.”
Brad doesn’t look up as someone sits next to him at the bar. He simply signals the bartender and nods to his left, picking up his own drink and taking a sip. The bartender sets a glass down in front of the man beside him and Brad watches long, tapered fingers pick it up. “I’d ask what a nice guy like you is doing in a place like this…”
“But you already know.” Nate sips his drink and smiles at Brad’s reflection in the mirror. “And given that that’s what you’re here for too, you don’t have much room to talk.”
“Fair enough.” It’s been weeks, almost a month that they’ve been seeing each other. Brad knows he should end it, because it’s on the verge of becoming something more, and he really doesn’t need some sweet young thing who is both balls and brains and just the perfect thing to put Brad’s ass in the fire. He’s perfectly capable of screwing up his own life. He really doesn’t need any help.
Nate finishes his drink and sets the glass on the counter, turning his head to look at Brad. There’s something in his face that makes Brad wonder if Nate knows what he’s thinking. He wouldn’t be surprised. Nate’s proven surprisingly good at doing just that, and not just in the bedroom. His voice is soft, affectionate. Everything Brad doesn’t want or need. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Some would say I’m not thinking enough. Or not thinking with the right body part.” He finishes his own drink and closes his eyes for a minute, wondering where his life went wrong. He’s pretty sure it was the second he decided to first step foot in this bar. Or maybe - and this is the part that scares the shit out of him - maybe that’s when his life started going right. “You ready to head out?”
Nate nods. “But we’re not going to your place.”
“No?”
Nate shakes his head and slides two tickets along the bar. They’re for a hockey game that starts in about an hour. “I thought we’d do something a little different tonight.”
“Does that mean I’m not getting laid?”
“That depends.”
Brad pauses for a moment, then gives in. “On what?”
Nate stands up and eases his coat on. “On which team wins.”