GK, In for a penny, in for a pound, 1/1, PG13, Brad x Nate, 10,000+
Title: In for a penny, in for a pound
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick, Ray Person
Warning(s): language, domestic
Spoiler(s): N/A
Word Count: 10,000+
Rants: This is the first full length fic I have written for GK. Everything else has been twitfic or drabble length (and oddly enough, far more porn-y). This fic also has a ridiculous amount of sex mentioned without there being any actual sex at all. I'd also like to point out that my cat's name really is Princess Sarin and I had this kind of cat in mind for this fic (an orange norqegian forest cat). Written for annundriel, who introduced me to this fandom in the first place. You are a doll. <3
Summary: Nate’s not an idiot, he knows Brad wants to have kids. Nate does the one thing he can think of to stem the baby wanting, and that’s to adopt a dog. Or a cat, really, because a dog is a lot of effort. He just wasn’t planning for any of the drama adopting a cat would cause.
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the fictionalized portrayal of a real event. No disrespect intended. I have nothing to do with Generation Kill in the least. Neither do I own Sweet Dreams by Air Supply.
Crossposted to: generation_kill
Nate’s not an idiot. Idealistic and naïve, maybe, on a stretch, but no one in their right mind would accuse Nate of being an idiot. Just because he’s not active duty in the Marines anymore doesn’t mean he doesn’t see things. Once a Marine, always a Marine, after all.
Nate sees the way Brad’s lip quirks into a smile whenever he’s around Poke’s girls. He has seen Brad sword fighting with his youngest nephew and wearing a tiara gifted to him by his niece. Hell, Nate watched as Brad taught Nate’s own nephew how to tie his shoes. Nate knows, because he knows Brad completely, inside and out, that as much as he tries to hide the fact, that Brad likes children.
Some days, when Brad is relaxed on the couch with either of his sisters’ children on either side of him and a book spread out on his lap, Nate gets the feeling that Brad wants children.
And while Nate has accepted the fact that yeah, Brad would be an awesome father, he himself isn’t even remotely close to being ready to even entertain the idea of maybe actually being one. To think that they are ready for it. For one, Nate spends most of his time in Boston attending Harvard while Brad’s still in Oceanside being one of the few and the proud. It has nothing to do with lack of commitment or love, either, because there isn’t anyone else for either of them. There hasn’t been for a long time.
It’s just that sometimes, when Brad’s got a child asleep against his chest or riding on his shoulders, he looks over at Nate with an embarrassed, shy smile. And in these moments, Nate knows, without a shadow of a doubt, if Brad asked him to stay, to start a family with him, that Nate would because this is Brad. He’s the most important thing (person) in Nate’s life.
So Nate does what any sensible person who is scared to have children does; he decides to adopt a dog. Only, after doing research on the subject, because Nate is a firm believer in research, it occurs to him that a dog is a lot of effort and even though Brad’s not due to be stationed overseas anytime soon, he still doesn’t spend that much time at their house. Getting a dog doesn’t make sense, and it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.
Cats, on the other hand, are much more solitary creatures. It’s okay for them to be alone for a day or two because they can take care of themselves. If worse comes to worst while Nate’s at college and Brad’s away, one of their sisters will probably look after the cat.
It makes perfect sense, Nate decides. People get pets all the time when they’re not ready for the next step, but still want some sign that they’re ready for serious commitment. Cats are relatively easy to take care of, they don’t need walked every day and they don’t scream for attention when you leave them alone for a minute.
It doesn’t take a lot of deliberation for Nate to decide that yeah, he’s going to do this, and once he’s made up his mind, that’s that. They’re getting a cat.
In hindsight, it occurs to Nate that maybe he should have told Brad they were getting a cat. Or at least hinted about it a little. It is kind of a big deal, but by the time Nate has already picked out a kitten from the Humane Society - he was going to get an older cat, but this one had big blue eyes and went around intimidating the other kittens into submission and punching them and it reminded Nate too much of Brad to pass up on - and adopted her, it was too late.
”It’s okay, though,” Nate tells the kitten, scratching her behind the ears and laughing when she bats at his fingers. “If anything, he’ll only yell at me.”
She looks impossibly small in her kennel, barely two months old and a soft white. The vets told him she probably wouldn’t stay that color, so he probably didn’t want to call her Snowball, and Nate had just scoffed. Snowball isn’t a name, it’s an object, and Nate’s a firm believer in names. In the end, he just writes her name down as Cat, because he doesn’t want to pick something and have Brad mock him about it for the rest of their lives.
He’s overly cautious on the drive home, glancing back to make sure the kennel hasn’t fallen off the seat and that the kitten is still glowering at him from her prison. She reminds him more and more of Brad in each passing moment, and Nate knows he made the right choice in picking her. He can’t keep a smile off his face on the entire drive back to the house.
The first thing Nate does when he gets home is shut all the bedroom and bathroom doors and cabinets. He watches the kitten like a hawk for the first hour to make sure she doesn’t get into anything that she shouldn’t, but after deciding that she takes personal offense to the coffee table, she curls up under the TV stand and hisses whenever Nate gets too close or tries to get her to play.
Nate loses track of time checking e-mails, chatting with his mother and marathoning Mythbusters, but every now and then the kitten braves out from underneath the TV to explore one patch of the living room or another. She’s doing basic reconnaissance, Nate decides, and it makes him smile stupidly.
Eventually she makes her way to where Nate is, nips at his toes and the power cord for his laptop, and she hisses when he tries to pet her. She bats at the coffee table in annoyance before giving up and curling up to nap on one of Brad’s USMC sweatshirts, tossed haphazardly over the arm of the couch. Every now and then, she’ll open her blue eyes to watch Nate.
Nate’s only had her for a few hours, barely even held her, but he knows now that no matter how Brad takes this, it would kill him to get rid of her. Getting a cat, Nate decides, was a very good idea indeed.
Brad’s barely in the front door when he says “no”, throwing an accusatory look over in Nate’s direction.
Nate blinks in confusion, fighting back a yawn and the sleep that’s been threatening to drag him into unconsciousness for the last hour or so. “What?” He asks, frowning.
Huffing, Brad tosses Nate another dark look, before he turns to look over at the kitten. She had been entertaining herself playing with the strings on Nate’s sneakers, but she’s been watching Brad with rapt attention ever since he opened the front door. Brad looks over at Nate and says “no” again, firmer.
Which strikes Nate as being entirely unfair, because Brad hasn’t even taken off his shoes or jacket yet. He’s barely home and he’s already telling Nate no. And okay, fine, Nate knows he should have brought this up before, “but - “
”No,” Brad says again.
Nate opens his mouth to complain, but he’s cut off by the sight of the kitten walking over to Brad and meowing up at him. Her tiny paws plop onto the top of his boot, her tail swishing and curling in some sort of adorable happiness. Not that Nate thinks she’s adorable. He doesn’t. He does have some self-respect both as a man and a Marine. “She likes you.”
Brad nudges the kitten away gently with his boot, slowly pushing her away from him before he stoops down to unlace his boots and line them up against the wall. “I don’t care, Nate,” Brad says irritably. “It’s not staying.”
”She has to,” Nate replies. “We adopted her. Dammit, Brad, she hasn’t even been here for a day, we can’t just take her back. What the Hell kind of terrible animal adopter do you think I am? The Humane Society would probably shoot me.”
”With all due respect, sir,” Brad huffs, voice heavy with sarcasm. “You adopted it. I had no part in this. I don’t care if you toss it in the ocean, it’s not staying.”
”You don’t mean that.” It comes out as an accusation, a plea, and Nate stares at Brad’s shoulder to avoid meeting his eyes. He doesn’t care if he’s flushing in rage, Brad’s being an asshole. “And she’s not an ‘it’, Brad.”
They’re at a silent standoff, Brad not willing to take his words back and Nate trying not to yell. He knows he made a mistake, he could have gone about this better, but Brad needs to understand and Nate doesn’t know how to make him. Nate did this for them.
The kitten rubs herself against the back of Brad’s ankle, purring, until he pushes her away to cross the room and drop his bag and jacket on the couch. “She’s not staying.”
Nate closes his laptop and leans forward to put it on the coffee table. He reaches out to grab Brad’s wrist, squeezing his fingers tightly, once, before tugging Brad towards him. Brad doesn’t move, so Nate shoots him a pathetic look. “I want her, Brad. I want her to stay.”
”Then you and her can go stay somewhere else,” Brad shoots back bitterly. He tugs his wrist free of Nate’s grasp, but he moves to collapse on the far side of the couch. He pushes the kitten away from him again with his foot, before he snags the remote and starts to flip the channels.
”I’m telling your mom that you’re kicking me out because of a cat,” Nate says accusingly.
”I’m telling your mom that you adopted a cat without talking to me first,” Brad says breezily.
”My mom likes cats,” Nate counters.
”Then she can have the cat.” Brad’s annoyance is almost palpable, and he abandons channel surfing in favor of glowering at the cat. “Leave me alone,” he tells her, pushing her away with his foot yet again. “Go away.”
”She’s our cat, Bradley,” Nate hums. He scoots across the couch to lean against Brad’s side, throwing his legs over Brad’s lap and resting his chin on Brad’s shoulder. He ignores Brad’s dirty look in favor of tangling their fingers together. “It’s just a cat, Brad. Come on. Let her stay.”
For a moment, Brad seems to honestly consider it. He rests his free hand on Nate’s knee, drumming his fingers against the denim slowly and squeezes Nate’s fingers with his own. He glances over at the cat, watches as she ducks under the coffee table and watches him with suspicious eyes. “No,” Brad says again.
Sighing heavily, Nate presses a soft kiss to Brad’s shoulder before resting his cheek against it. “I love you,” he says softly, tracing his thumb along Brad’s and doing his best to look pathetic.
Brad flashes Nate a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes and scowling at him. “That’s cheating.”
”I know,” Nate says, smiling. “That doesn’t make it any less true.” It doesn’t, but there’s a small part of Nate that feels a little guilty for using the words against Brad. They don’t say them that often, either of them, and it really is cheating. Nate can’t bring himself to care though.
”I don’t like cats,” Brad mutters, slumping back into the couch. “They’re satanic little bastards who steal your pillows in the middle of the night and dart out from under furniture to bite your ankles.”
”Huh,” Nate says. He presses his lips against Brad’s shoulder again, before letting go of his hand to reach for Brad’s neck, twisting and tugging until he can lean close enough to brush his lips against Brad’s. “You have some serious repressed issues there. Who’s cat was it?”
”My grandmother’s,” Brad huffs out. “His name was Mr. Mittens and he hated me.” He scowls at the memory, and Nate takes the chance to kiss his forehead. “What is your stupid cat’s name, anyways?”
”She doesn’t have one,” Nate replies. He pushes back far enough to rest his forehead on Brad’s shoulder, tangling their fingers together again. “I didn’t want to name her without you.”
”You do realize it’s a cat, Nate, not a baby,” Brad huffs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what you name the little beast.”
At the mention of baby, Nate squeezes his fingers in Brad’s automatically, and tries not to tense up. It’s ridiculous, Brad has no way of possibly knowing Nate’s alternative movies for adopting a cat. “So you’d be okay if I named her ‘Princess Peach’ or something.”
”If she’s going to be a Princess, at least make it something badass, you pussyfooted liberal,” Brad snorts, squeezing Nate’s fingers back gently. “Like Sarin.”
Nate tosses Brad a dark look. “You want to name our cat after a nerve agent?” he asks. “Did it ever occur to you that you take your job a little too seriously?”
”Impossible, sir,” Brad replies, face slipping into stoic, Iceman territory. “My job is my life.”
”Stop calling me ‘sir’,” Nate grumbles. “No naming our cat after anything that has anything to do with the Marines. I’m serious.”
Brad blinks in confusion, glancing over at Nate. “You’re giving me free reign on what to name a cat I didn’t even know I was adopting in the first place?”
”I retain the power of veto, but sure,” Nate replies, shrugging. “I really have no idea what you’re supposed to name cats. The vets don’t think she’s going to stay a white puffball, but as long as she isn’t a Snowball I think we’re good.”
”Mmmh, snowball,” Brad says. At Nate’s blank stare, he quirks an eyebrow and smirks suggestively.
It’s Nate’s term to scowl and say “no”.
It’s then that the kitten decides she’s had enough of hiding, and she pounces on Brad’s foot again. He glares at her, but doesn’t shove her away, and she takes it to mean she’s free to drape herself over his foot before going boneless. “I think she fell asleep on my foot.”
Nate leans over to look at the kitten, whom had moments before been making undoubtedly devious plans, and now looked dead to the world. “She’s a Recon Marine in training,” Nate says, reaching out to run a finger across her spine. “She’ll fall asleep anywhere at a moment’s notice.”
Brad just scoffs at Nate. He waggles his foot to dislodge the kitten, but when she doesn’t move, he huffs out and slumps back into the couch. “I’m not happy with you, for the record.”
”I know,” Nate says, smiling softly.
”You’re not allowed to not want to put out anymore, ever,” Brad continues. “I’m serious. I don’t think you understand the depth of the compromises we’re making here so you can have your stupid cat. Your ass is mine for the rest of eternity.”
Nate rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to hide his grin as he leans towards Brad to kiss him again. “To be fair, it already was,” Nate points out.
”Yes, but now it’s official.”
It’s not exactly how Nate had intended for the events to play out or for this confession of forever to go, but in the end, Nate agrees wholeheartedly. Instead of voicing this though, he opts to kiss Brad again, openmouthed and filthy, and he’s positive Brad would prefer this to words anyways.
Nate ends up buying the kitten a ridiculous amount of toys, because all the little bells and feathers and strings make him strangely happy. The kitten is just as happy to play with Nate’s shoelaces as she is any of the things Nate buys her, and her most favorite thing in the universe is a brown paper back Nate can’t bring himself to get rid of.
He buys her a cute pink collar with a bell, too, but Brad absolutely refuses to let her wear it. Apparently, it’s crossing some sort of line of homosexuality Nate didn’t realize they weren’t allowed to cross or even existed.
Brad buys the kitten a camouflage collar, which he points out doesn’t break the rules of not naming the cat anything Marine related. “Besides,” Brad huffs, “you’re the one who keeps calling her ‘Recon Kitty’.”
As much as Brad hates the bell, after a week of the kitten stalking them around their house, Brad agrees it is a necessary evil. She’s still quiet, but now there’s a faint warning tinkling before she pounces.
For three weeks, Brad calls the cat ‘Cat’. It’s only when Nate puts his foot down and demands Brad pick a name already that Brad decides on ‘Toshiba’.
Nate’s pretty sure Brad does this on purpose, because he knows how Nate feels about names-that-aren’t-names, but Nate’s just glad the cat finally has a proper name that Brad actually seems to say without mocking or being mildly embarrassed of, so he lets it slide.
”It could be worse,” Nate decides, watching Toshiba as she chases a small bell around the living room. “At least you aren’t a Mac or Apple or something.”
”Don’t even joke about that,” Brad says, glowering at Nate.
Though it doesn’t occur to Nate at the time, in hindsight he will come to decide that this is the point in time where it starts to become obvious that Brad doesn’t hate Toshiba as much as he says he does.
Brad continues to push Toshiba away whenever she tries to curl up next to him, and he refuses to let her sleep in the room with them. Because while he’s apparently okay with sucking Nate off in the middle of the Iraqi dessert, surrounded by bitter and bored Marines and Iraqi soldiers where they could get caught and have their lives ruined, he apparently can’t concentrate at debauching Nate when the cat is staring at him.
It’s funny, ridiculously so, but Nate’s not brave enough to laugh at Brad’s insecurities when Brad didn’t want to adopt the cat in the first place. She sits outside the bedroom door and yowls all night if she can’t sleep with them, though, and after the first week of Brad not doing any of the owning of Nate’s ass that he assured Nate was going to happen, Nate starts to be less than amused by the entire situation as well.
”It’s your fault,” Nate tells Brad, resting his chin on Brad’s thigh while Toshiba continues to yowl. “She doesn’t care at all if I’m not in the same room as her. You’re the one she’s obsessed with. You know she sits by the door and yowls for like an hour after you leave every morning? It’s ridiculous. I can’t get any concentrating done.”
”So you’ve told me,” Brad says. He props himself up on an elbow before reaching for Nate, grabbing his forearm and tugging him up the bed. “I still maintain my innocence in this. You are the one who adopted her, so the blame will always fall on you.”
Nate moves easily, pressing a quick kiss to Brad’s lips before rolling to the side and curling against him. “You’re the one who can’t get it up if a cat is watching him or yowling outside his bedroom door. Just admit it. You hate to hear her in pain.”
The look Brad gives Nate is positively hateful. “I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want anything to do with you. You and your goddamn cat can both go drown in the ocean.” He pulls himself free of Nate and rolls to the far side of the bed.
”Brad, don’t be like that,” Nate says. It’s a serious effort to keep the grin off of his face, and he crawls across the bed to Brad’s side again. “Come on,” he says, dropping down to kiss Brad’s shoulder, then along his collarbone to the hollow of his neck. “Just ignore her. You’ll be much happier when we’ve done any of the number of vastly inappropriate things you’ve sworn to do to me.”
”Toshiba is more annoying than Ray Person,” Brad says bitterly. He arches his neck when Nate starts to kiss up his throat and drops a hand to hold Nate’s waist without even think about it. “I never would have thought it possible, but congratulations, sir, you haven’t lost the Officer ability to make Enlisted men absofuckinglutely miserable.”
Nate nibbles at Brad’s jaw before giving in and sighing heavily. “Fine, we can let Toshiba back in the room,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “I hope you’re happy that we’re never going to have sex again, Colbert.”
”As long as you are equally as miserable, I’m sure I’ll manage to cope,” Brad says. He rolls over the edge of the bed and snags his boxers off the floor and pulls them on. He tosses Nate his own before he goes to open the door to let Toshiba in and Nate can practically feel the glare Brad is directing towards the suddenly purring cat. “I hate you,” Brad says, but Nate isn’t sure if he’s talking to either or both of them.
Brad’s mom’s birthday happens to be the same day as the five week anniversary of having adopted Toshiba. It occurs to Nate when he listens to Brad on the phone with his mother, just like it occurs to Nate that he can count on one hand the times he and Brad have managed to have proper, penetrative sex since bringing Toshiba home.
”You’re a cock block,” Nate tells Toshiba, watching her through narrow eyes as she rubs up against Brad’s leg. “You are the worst cock block known to man. I think I might actually hate you.”
”I’m a what now?” Brad asks, pausing in his pacing of the kitchen to look over at Nate in confusion. He scowls suddenly, says “not you, mom, Nate said something,” before shoving Toshiba away with his foot. She slides across the tile before scrambling back and nuzzling against him again.
”Sorry,” Nate says, sighing heavily. “Ignore me.”
Brad quirks a questioning eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He starts pacing the kitchen again, stopping in front of Nate long enough to brush his lips against Nate’s forehead in a soft kiss before he’s moving again, ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing in time to his mother’s one-sided conversation.
This is the day that Nate decides to call Toshiba ‘cock block’, if only in his head, and he spends the rest of the afternoon glowering at her.
Ray has known Brad and Nate adopted a cat, would have probably noticed the cat hair that clung to Brad’s uniform despite Brad’s best efforts even if Ray wasn’t a Recon Marine. In all the time they’ve had Toshiba though, Ray hasn’t been to the house. When he and Brad get together, they’re either at bars or at Ray’s.
It’s not that Ray’s not welcome. As annoying as Ray can be, Nate still likes him, and even if Nate didn’t, he’s Brad’s best friend. Nate will admit that on occasion he can be known to lean towards slightly bitch like behavior that Brad tolerates with surprisingly good humor, but even if he despised Ray, Nate wouldn’t ever forbid him from coming over.
Really, Nate’s not sure why Ray hasn’t been coming over until Ray is sitting on their couch, cheeks and nose turning red while his eyes start to water. “I think I’m super fucking allergic to your goddamn pussy-ass looking cat.”
”As opposed to only being a little allergic?” Nate asks, quirking an eyebrow. As far as he can tell, Toshiba has been laying on the back of the couch behind Brad’s shoulders, her nose nestled against his neck and tail occasionally flicking side to side. She’s been nowhere near Ray, and Ray still looks ready to die from an allergic reaction.
”I believe this is your proverbial God’s way of trying to spare you from getting your ass kicked in Halo,” Brad says smugly. “It’s to stop you from crying like a little bitch, writing deplorable angsty poetry like the twelve year old, cock sucking girl you are and killing yourself.”
”Fuck you, Brad,” Ray scowls. “I think I’m honestly fucking dying.” Still, despite this, he doesn’t put down his Xbox 360 controller and go outside. He just hunches his shoulders and glowers at the screen. “Fucking cat.”
”Hey, at least the fucking cat doesn’t piss on the fucking floor,” Brad snaps. He reaches behind himself, probably subconsciously, to scratch Toshiba behind the ears until she starts to purr.
”Okay, seriously, that was one time,” Ray says, scowling over at Brad. “I was fucking drunk and you know it. How the Hell was I supposed to know that Walt can hold his liquor like a goddamn - “
”You were in my apartment, Ray,” Brad shoots back. “I don’t care what justifications you might fucking have, but that was my Goddamn kitchen - “
”I’m going to go for a run,” Nate says. Neither Brad nor Ray spare him a second glance as he stands up, and he’s really not all that surprised. Nate’s known the two of them long enough to trust them not to kill each other, despite the words they’re throwing around. “I’ll be back later,” Nate says, despite the fact he’s being ignored, and he tries not to glower too hardly at them for it.
Nate’s gone for almost an hour, and when he gets back, Ray and Brad are still snapping at each other bitterly and yelling at the TV. Toshiba is the only one who seems to have moved the entire time Nate was gone, and she’s laying in the middle of the living room floor, spread out in a sunbeam. She’s almost adorable, but Nate has to remind himself that she’s a cock block and that he hates her.
He takes his time in the shower, because he doubts Brad misses him, and he knows better than to curl into Brad’s side on the couch when he’s done. Brad’s not big on touching when it’s just the two of them, Nate can’t begin to imagine the hissy fit he’d throw with Ray around. Plus, Nate would get in the way of his gaming and that’s just unfortunate for everyone.
With nothing else to do, Nate ends up sitting on the floor across from Toshiba and rolling small bells at her until she wakes up enough to glare at him. He doesn’t stop flicking them until she gets up to chase them around the room, then smiles triumphantly when she gets one lodged under the TV stand she’s too big to crawl under now.
In the six weeks they’ve had her, Toshiba has grown a ridiculous amount. Her fur is not completely white anymore, either. She’s mostly orange, and when she sheds, her fur sticks to everything and it shows. Another one of those things that occurs to Nate in hindsight: cats shed, a lot.
”So, wait,” Ray says suddenly, snapping Nate out of his reverie and glancing over at where Toshiba is struggling to retrieve her toy. “Aren’t you going back to Boston in a couple weeks, LT?”
Captain, Nate wants to correct, but doesn’t. He had to accept that none of his men - and they were always going to be his men - were never going to call him Nate, but he’s not a lieutenant anymore, wouldn’t be even if he didn’t get out. “In three, yeah,” Nate says instead.
For a moment, Brad looks a mixture of miserable and pissed off, but it fades quickly, and Nate’s not entirely sure how to deal with this. Brad has to have known Nate was going to leave, but it’s not like it’s permanent. Nate’s going to come back, he always comes back. It’s been three years, though, and Brad still acts like he expects Nate to never come back at all.
It worries Nate, it really does.
”What the fuck is going to happen to Toshiba?” Ray asks. “Is she staying here with Brad or is she going to go be a pussyfooted, liberal, college, dick suck kitty like you are?”
”Don’t be ridiculous, Ray,” Brad huffs. “Nate’s not a cat.”
Nate scowls at Brad, and has to resist the urge to stick out his tongue. “Gee, thanks,” he drawls.
”Anytime, sir,” Brad quips back in.
”Have I ever mentioned how kinky it is that you still call him ‘sir’?” Ray asks, “because seriously - “
”Shut up, Ray,” Brad sighs heavily.
”Fuck you,” Ray huffs, flashing a lopsided smile. “Seriously though, the cat? I know Brad pretends to hate the furry little bastard but I think if you leave and take her with you, Brad will probably start writing angsty poetry and painting his nails black. He fucking loves that cat. He’s always like Nate’s goddamn cat did this or Fucking Toshiba was all like blahblahfuckingblah. It’s pathetic. He accuses me of fucking small animals.”
It’s then Toshiba decides to plop down and start yowling, and Brad starts cursing at her. “What the fuck did you do to her, Nate?” Brad snaps, “She only ever gets like this because of you.”
”Excuse me?” Nate asks, bristling up. “You’re the reason she has to sleep in our bed. And I don’t have to remind you of the problems that’s caused.” Nate glowers until Brad glowers back. “Besides, Ray is right. She’s your cat. She doesn’t even like me.”
”That’s because she’s Recon Kitty and you will always be an Officer, even when you’re not,” Brad huffs out. “And I don’t recall you kicking her out.”
”Because you won’t let me!” Nate snaps.
”You know that awkward moment when your parents are arguing and you’re still in the room?” Ray asks suddenly. “That’s kind of how it fucking feels right now.”
”Shut up, Ray, no one asked for your fucking opinion,” Brad snaps, glowering over at Ray. “And would you get Toshiba’s Goddamn toy already, Nate? She won’t shut up.”
There’s a part of Nate that wants to put his foot down, because Brad can’t always blame everything Toshiba does on him. He doesn’t though, because Toshiba is yowling and it’s beyond annoying, and Nate crawls across the living room and sticks his hand under the TV stand to find her stupid bell. “Here, Toshiba,” Nate says, flicking it across the room and towards the kitchen. He glowers over his shoulder at Brad. “I’m going for a run.”
”You just went on a run,” Ray points out, frowning.
”That’s Nate-speak for I’m pissed the fuck off at you and am going to go badmouth you to your sisters until someone feels sorry for me,” Brad replies easily.
”Just for that, I’m calling your mom,” Nate grumbles. He pushes himself up, still standing in front of the TV, and takes a moment to stretch and block as much of the screen as possible. “Bye, Ray, it was nice to see you again.”
”Get the fuck out of the way, LT,” Ray replies.
Nate scoffs, but he does so anyways. He ignores Brad as he fetches his sneakers and pulls them on, and narrowly avoids tripping over Toshiba as he finds his car keys. He has no intentions of actually calling Brad’s mom to bitch, even though the idea is severely tempting, but there is something else he can do that will piss Brad off just as much: buy Toshiba even more stuff. Nate remembers seeing pet beds at PetSmart, and he figures if nothing else, Toshiba will have something new to punch.
Around seven, Nate gets a text from Brad. Ordering Pizza. Person and I agree on Chicago style. You in?
Nate thinks about it before texting back. I’m not happy with you.
There’s only a brief pause before Brad replies. I’m not happy with you either, but I’m fucking starving.
Figuring it’s the closest thing Nate is going to get to an actual apology from Brad, he sighs and gives in. Do I need to pick up more beer?
Yes, Brad says. and Ray wants Skittles. I told him you weren’t his bitch and he could get his own damn Skittles.
Barely half a minute later, Nate’s phone buzzes with a message from Ray that says skittles plz lt whil ur still out b/c brad is a ahole.
Despite his best efforts, there is a smile working at the end of Nate’s lips. He shoots Ray a text that simply reads Okay. before sending one to Brad. Give me twenty, it says, and love you.
Never doubted it, Brad replies, and Nate knows him well enough to know it means love you, too.
Brad’s starring in disbelief while Toshiba sleeps in the pale green cat bed Nate picked up. Nate had intended to get pink, just to be an asshole, but thought better of it. “If she stays there all night, I may have to take back every negative thing I have ever said about you, sir.”
Nate silently agrees. “I think now is the time for a tactical retreat so that we can have sex in our bed again,” Nate says, curling his fingers into one of Brad’s belt-loops and tugging. “Before she decides she wants back in bed.”
Brad glances over at Nate and smirks. “This is a plan I can support completely,” he says, ducking forward to kiss Nate. He rests their foreheads together, before sighing heavily. “About earlier - “
”It’s okay,” Nate says, cutting Brad off. “I know we’ve never talked about it. I’m just - Toshiba has to stay with you. I can’t have her in my apartment.”
”That’s not what I meant,” Brad huffs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “I had figured as much though,” he says somewhat bitterly. “I hope you are happy in knowing I am going to be made fun of for owning a cat.”
”Only because I know you’ll be happy in knowing I’m miserable and cold in Boston without you and Toshiba to keep me company,” Nate replies. He brushes his lips against Brad’s softly, smiling again. “I think we should have sex now before we end up talking about our feelings or something equally as terrible.”
Brad hums, kissing Nate once again before pulling away. “I think so, too,” he says, grabbing Nate’s wrist and tugging him towards their bedroom. He’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk that Nate didn’t even realize he missed and for once, everything is good again.
”The vet thinks Toshiba is old enough to be spayed, now,” Nate says when Brad plops down onto the couch next to him, Toshiba hoping up and into his lap only a heartbeat later. Nate watches Brad shoo her away halfheartedly. “We can get her declawed at the same time.”
Brad gives Nate a blank look. “I thought that since Recon Kitty is no long Cock Block Kitty, that you would no longer seek to punish her unnecessarily. I should have known you would hold a grudge.” This time, when Toshiba attempts to take over his lap, Brad draws her close to him and cards his fingers through her thick fur. “Nate’s an asshole, Toshiba. He wants to turn you into a POG.”
”I’m right here you know,” Nate says wryly. He reaches to pet Toshiba as well, and ignores the dark look she gives him. “I just figured that since she has a habit of trying to tear my face off when I touch her, we could maybe take care of the problem at the source.”
”You’re not turning my cat into a POG,” Brad says with finality. “Toshiba needs her claws for reconnaissance and defending herself against Ray.”
Nate rolls his eyes at the absurdity of the statement, before letting himself smile. “You do realize you just admitted to Toshiba being your cat, right?”
Brad narrows his eyes and scowls at Nate. “I most certainly did not.”
”No, you definitely just said I wasn’t allowed to turn your cat into a POG,” Nate grins. “Just admit it, Brad, Toshiba has wormed her way into your heart and started tearing down your Iceman walls.”
”I hate your cat,” Brad counters. To prove his point, he picks up Toshiba by her scruff and drops her on the floor, nudging her away from him with a socked foot. “She is an aggravating, pussyfooted, attention seeking, cock blocking, gay, sister-fucking whore.”
Nate quirks an eyebrow and tries not to smirk when Brad scowls at him. “Uh huh.”
”I hate you,” Brad says. “I’m going to drive your cat into the middle of the dessert and abandon her there, and then I’m going to run over your iPod just to be spiteful on my way back.”
”Life would be a lot easier if you just admitted you like the cat, Brad,” Nate says evenly. He turns his attention back to his laptop, flicking through his e-mail and trying to ignore Brad’s dark looks. “We should get her spayed, though, even if we don’t get her declawed. I’d hate for her to have kittens while I’m away at Harvard and you’re stuck alone with a cat you detest.”
Brad’s silent for a moment, watching Toshiba stretch out and get comfortable in a sunbeam, before he looks over at Nate out of the corner of his eyes. “I’ll agree to the spaying. Toshiba is not going to become a POG, though.”
”Whatever,” Nate says, fighting back a laugh and rolling his eyes. “I’ll try and get Toshiba an appointment for next week.”
There’s a moment when Brad first comes home from work and he looks absolutely lost. He blinks in confusion when Toshiba doesn’t race across the house to weave between his legs, purring loudly as she attempts to trip him up in her desperation for attention. For a heartbeat, he looks confused and disappointed, and Nate almost feels bad.
”I took Toshiba to the vet today,” he says, leaning against the archway that leads to the kitchen. “She’s going to get spayed. They’re going to keep her for two or three days, just in case.”
”Good,” Brad says, somewhat bitterly, but he’s staring at the spot on the back of the couch where Toshiba likes to nap. “I can now walk around naked in my own house again. We can have sex on that couch.”
Nate wants to point out that Brad didn’t actually walk around naked before, but the idea kind of intrigues him, so he keeps his mouth shut. “You want to have sex on a couch that your cat spends most of her time sleeping on?”
Brad shoots Nate a dark look. “It’s my couch. I’ll have sex on it if I want to.”
Nate hums a vaguely affirmative sound before he pushes himself off of the wall and starts to pull off his shirt. “Well, I’m game,” he says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had sex somewhere that wasn’t the bedroom or the bathroom floor.”
Brad watches as Nate lets his shirt fall to the floor, and he checks around the living room to make sure Toshiba really is out of the house before he reaches for his own shirt.
And Nate knows there’s something teasing and cruel he can say about Brad’s fear of being seen naked by the cat, but it’s all been said before and he was serious about having sex somewhere other than the bedroom. So instead, Nate crosses the room to close the blinds, before moving to undo Brad’s jeans. “It’s okay,” he says, kissing along Brad’s jaw. “She’s going to be okay.”
Brad’s hands rest at Nate’s waist, and he draws him in close and squeezes his fingers bruising-tight into Nate’s hips. “I don’t care about the Goddamn cat, Nate,” Brad mutters, nuzzling into Nate’s shoulder. He can’t hide the despondence in his tone though, and Nate finds himself wrapping his arms around Brad’s neck and tugging him down for a kiss.
It’s going to be a long two or three days.
When Toshiba comes home from the vet, she won’t have anything to do with Brad or Nate. She sulks across the living room until she can curl up in her bed, and spends the rest of the day hissing at whoever comes near her.
”I think we made her worse,” Brad says, staring at her from across the room. “She might actually try and kill us in our sleep.” He pauses, then looks at Nate thoughtfully. “Well, kill you in your sleep anyways.”
”Haha,” Nate says, scowling. “The vet says she might be like this for a few days. We just need to give her time to adjust. Think of it like Kitty PTSD or something.”
”Poor Recon Kitty,” Brad mutters softly. He glances over at Nate again, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “She better not be a POG or turn out to be another Trombley.”
”I don’t even have words for you right now,” Nate sighs, shaking his head. “Just let Toshiba rest, Brad. She’s going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about her.”
”I’m not worrying about her,” Brad snaps. “When will you get that through your pussyfooted, cock sucking, ivy league, thick skull of yours?”
”You love it when I suck your cock and you know it,” Nate huffs.
”Point,” Brad concedes. “But that doesn’t change the fact I will never like your cat.”
”I know, Brad,” Nate sighs, moving closer to pat Brad’s shoulder consolingly. “I know.”
”I hate you,” Brad scowls.
Toshiba gets better. And if Toshiba’s sudden desire to sink her teeth into Nate’s ankles every time she sees them doesn’t necessarily mean she’s better, well, she eventually gets to the point where she likes to take naps on Brad’s lap again and purr happily while glowering at Nate. Really, nothing has changed.
”I hate you both,” Nate tells them, but Toshiba is purring louder than Brad’s bike and Brad just smirks smugly. “So, so much.”
Brad never helps Nate pack when he has to get ready to go back to Boston. He either watches disdainfully or mopes in another room, and it’s probably for the best. Brad doesn’t really seem to understand dressing for the weather, and if Nate wasn’t careful, he’d end up in Boston with nothing but threadbare tee shirts and worn out jeans.
Unlike Brad, Toshiba seems fascinated by Nate’s suitcase like it is the greatest thing she’s ever seen, spending a good deal of time just jumping in and out of it. She’s more than willing to sabotage Nate’s departure by batting his socks around the room or curling up on his tee-shirts and napping.
Nate watches her through narrowed eyes, but as much as he hates her sometimes, he’s really going to miss her in Boston. “Do I really have to go back?”
Brad makes a soft sound, like he’s startled Nate knew he was looming in the doorway, before he shrugs and says, “you’re the one who wanted to go back to school, sir.”
As much as Nate hates Brad calling him ‘sir’, it’s another one of those stupid things he’s going to miss. “How much mocking does wanting you to hug me warrant?” Nate asks, staring pointedly at the sweatshirt he’s trying to fold.
”A lot,” Brad replies easily. It doesn’t stop him from moving across the room and wrapping his arms around Nate’s waist though, or dropping his forehead down onto Nate’s shoulder. “I’ll probably be forced to make various remarks about you having grown a pussy for the next few weeks.”
”You wish I’d grown a pussy,” Nate scoffs, but it sounds forced, even to him. He tosses his sweatshirt into his suitcase haphazardly before slumping back against Brad. He doesn’t give any warning, but Brad catches his weight easily anyways.
Brad makes a thoughtful noise. “It would make matters interesting,” Brad concedes. “But unless you’re getting boobs, you’d look like a twelve year old girl. Ray may swing that way, but at the risk of becoming a pedophile, I’d rather your genital situation remain the way it is.”
”It’s okay to say you’ll miss my cock, Brad,” Nate hums, patting at Brad’s arm awkwardly, consolingly.
Scoffing, Brad nips at Nate’s shoulder. “It’s not the only part of you I would miss,” he says softly. He bites lightly at the juncture of Nate’s shoulder and neck, before nosing at Nate’s ear, huffing out a soft breath.
”Brad,” Nate warns, “I have to finish packing.” He makes no attempt to stop Brad’s hands from sliding up under his shirt though, large, warm hands roaming up Nate’s side until he can pinch and flick at nipples before his hands dip back down and slide under the hem of Nate’s sweats. “Seriously, Brad?” If Nate’s cheeks are flushed and his breath catching, it’s not his fault.
”Yes,” Brad replies simply. He pulls back enough to shove Nate none too gently onto the bed before scanning the room for Toshiba. He picks her up by the scruff and ignores her dark glares. “I expect you to be naked in the next thirty seconds, sir.”
Nate rolls his eyes before rolling onto his back, shrugging off his shirt and kicking off his sweats easily. He should probably complain about the fact the bed is covered in the stuff he’s taking back to Boston with him, that he needs to finish packing. Nate just watches as Brad tosses Toshiba from the room though, and in a heartbeat Brad’s naked and covering Nate’s body with his own, and Nate gives up on trying to maintain the allusion of caring.
Nate’s very much sore when Brad drops him off at the airport, but as much as he glowers, he really doesn’t mind. The bites and bruises will remind him of home, at least for a little while. Instead, Nate concentrates on the fact he can’t hug Brad goodbye and kiss him half to death and tries to let everything he’s feeling transfer with a soft touch to Brad’s elbow.
Brad just ducks his head in a low nod, a tired smile quirking the corners of his lips. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, sir.”
”Brad,” Nate says softly.
”Nate,” Brad corrects.
It’s ridiculously hard to let go of Brad. It always is. Still, Nate drops his hands to his sides and tries to look like he’s not completely miserable. “No killing Toshiba while I’m gone,” Nate says, and he means I love you and I’ll miss you and wait for me. “Even if she is a bitchy little Recon Kitty.”
”I’m sure there is something ironic about you hating the cat you begged me to keep,” Brad says wryly.
”I didn’t beg,” Nate scoffs. “I don’t beg.”
Brad quirks an eyebrow, a deeply amused look on his face and something dark in his eyes. “Is that a challenge, sir - Nate?”
They don’t have time for this. They really don’t have time for this. “I’ll call you when I get there,” Nate says instead. “I should get going.”
There’s a moment of hesitation on Brad’s face at the mention of leaving, because Brad always hesitates, before he drags Nate forward into a one armed hug, his hand heavy and warm on Nate’s back. “If I don’t hear from you in eight hours…”
”You’ll send out a reconnaissance team?” Nate teases. He makes a soft sound when Brad pulls away, and forces himself to smile. “I’m just going to Boston, Brad. I do this all the time.”
”That may be true,” Brad mutters, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
This is the part where Nate leaves for his plane. If he stays any longer, they’ll be dragged into something emotional and saying goodbye will just be impossible. Nate bites the inside of his cheek before saying, “I’ll call. And don’t kill Toshiba.”
”Your Goddamn cat is going to be fine,” Brad huffs. “Now go get on your plane.”
Nate doesn’t want to, but he does.
Nate’s apartment looks exactly the way he left it, with the exception of his youngest sister’s shoes by the door and her jacket on the back of the couch. He isn’t all that surprised that she’s passed out on the couch, and he takes a moment to cover her with an afghan their mother made before he makes his way to his room and calls Brad.
Brad answers on the third ring. “So you’re not dead, I take it.”
”Nope,” Nate agrees softly. He cradles his phone between his shoulder and ear while he toes off his sneakers and wiggles out of his jeans. “I think I’m gonna go to bed though. It’s almost oh-one-hundred here.”
”I can do basic math,” Brad replies, and Nate’s not surprised he sounds a little exhausted. It’s only 2100 in California, but it’s been a long day. “I don’t even warrant more than ten words from you? Maybe I will let Toshiba starve.”
”Don’t be like that, Brad,” Nate sighs. He lets out a soft ‘oomph’ when he collapses on his bed, crawling towards his pillows. “If you don’t want me to hang up, then find something to say.”
There’s a moment of silence from Brad’s end of the phone, and Nate can hear him shuffling around. “This is the time when you need a friend, you just need someone near?” Brad tries. “I’m not looking forward to the night I’ll spend thinking of you when you’re not here.”
Nate blinks in confusion once, twice, three times. “Brad?” He asks, because he’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but it sounds familiar.
Another heartbeat passes, Brad muttering “how many times will I think about the things I’d like to do, always denied the right to live my life - ” and then it clicks.
Nate doesn’t know if he wants to grin or roll his eyes. “Are you serenading me, Sergeant Colbert?”
” - the way I want, I want to share it with you, shut the fuck up Nate, we’re having a moment,” Brad snaps. “You’re the one who told me to talk. Song’s been stuck in my head all week.”
”I didn’t expect you to start muttering Air Supply at me,” Nate huffs, but he’s smiling. “Not that I’m surprised by your choice of artist. I like the song, though. It’s almost sweet.”
”I hate you,” Brad mutters. “I shouldn’t have picked up the damn phone.”
Rolling onto his back, Nate tries not to laugh. He kicks at his covers until he can climb under them and he fights back a yawn. “Don’t stop, Brad. I didn’t mean it.”
Brad grumbles on the other end of the phone, a long litany of insults directed at Nate and a brief moment where he’s telling Toshiba he’ll skin her alive if she thinks about laying on top of his laptop, before Brad sighs heavily. “Close your eyes, I want to ride the skies in my sweet dreams,” Brad says.
”I love you,” Nate mutters, and he’s still smiling when he drifts off to sleep during the final chorus of Brad singing, “Close your eyes, I want to see you tonight in my sweet dreams.”
”I think Toshiba misses you,” Brad says. “She keeps staring at the front door in confusion.”
Nate’s both surprised and ridiculously pleased by this. “Are you sure she’s not just trying to get at the Robertson’s dog again?”
”A Chihuahua is not a dog,” Brad scoffs. “Even the cat knows that.”
”I miss Toshiba, too,” Nate says, sighing heavily. Nate’s not entirely sure, but he gets the feeling that they’re not just talking about Toshiba.
Nate’s proud to say he manages to make it to two weeks away from Brad before he gives in and jerks off while Brad’s on the other end of the phone line.
Brad, for his part, just seems amused by the entire ordeal. He wasn’t doing anything to initiate Nate’s moment of weakness, just prattling on about his bike or the new terabyte and a half hard drive he wants to get, taking a minute to bitch at Toshiba for drooling on him while she napped.
When Nate’s finished, he can practically hear Brad’s smirk as he asks, “I see you’re a lot more hands on this year.”
”Shut up,” Nate mutters bitterly. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if Toshiba wasn’t laying on you. It’s not my fault you have issues - “
Brad hangs up on Nate, leaving Nate to scowl at his ceiling and miss the warmth of sharing a bed with someone else.
Nate calls back that night to apologize. By the time he hangs up, they’ve both gotten off, and Nate takes this to mean that they’re both okay again.
Sometimes, Nate calls because he misses Toshiba. He calls almost every day, just to hear Brad speak, even if he is the one who does most of the talking. Sometimes though, and only sometimes, he misses the way Toshiba sounds when she’s purring or the way she feels when she’s curled up, heavy and boneless in his lap as she naps.
”I really do miss Recon Kitty,” he admits meekly, even though he means I miss my baby. He has to remind himself that he can’t just buy a ridiculous amount of cat stuff, because Brad hates when Nate buys Toshiba bells and feathers and treats when she already has a small mountain at home.
”Recon Kitty has taken over your side of the bed,” Brad informs Nate after the confession. “I wasn’t going to let her stay, but she doesn’t kick or snore. She’s a much more considerate bedmate than you.”
Nate is never going to admit how depressed the thought makes him. He gets that Brad has trouble sleeping in silence, but he doesn’t have to rub in the fact he replaced Nate with Nate’s cat. “I always knew you loved Toshiba more than you loved me.”
”With good reason,” Brad replies. There’s a moment of silence, while Brad seems to debate something, before he sighs heavily and gives in. “Toshiba is very particular about staying on her side of the bed.”
”It’s okay to admit you miss cuddling,” Nate snorts. “I won’t tell on you. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”
”I hate you,” Brad replies. “I’m going to hang up now.”
”I hate you, too. You can be assured of this,” Nate offers, grinning anyways. “I’ll be home in a few weeks. I want proof of Toshiba’s continued existence or I’m not coming back.”
Brad makes a scoffing sound before he hangs up, and Nate shakes his head. Barely a minute passes before Nate’s phone beeps with a message from Brad, and it’s a picture of Toshiba stretched out in a sunbeam. Nate doesn’t think he’ll ever get home soon enough.
Brad randomly texts Nate pictures of Toshiba lazying around their house or plotting the demise of various household objects after that. Nate’s favorite is one of Toshiba draped over Brad’s shoulder like a dishrag and he doesn’t even think before he sets it as his background. Every time he uses his phone he smiles, but that was kind of the point in the first place.
They’ve been doing this for three years, they have a schedule, a routine. As soon as the front door closes, Brad will pin Nate to it and kiss him until they’re both starving for oxygen and even then they’ll keep going until the last possible moment. Then Brad will start to trail kisses across Nate’s jaw and slide his hands up Nate’s shirt to touch as much skin as he can.
For his part, Nate is completely willing to go with this. He has no qualms about letting Brad do whatever he wants to Nate, doing his best just to hold on while it happens. It’s a pattern they’ve found works, and by the time they tumble onto the couch half naked and trying to force as much skin as possible together, Nate’s able to forget everything.
But then Toshiba pounces on Brad’s back, causing him to make a completely undignified sound, before he bumps his forehead against Nate’s and they both start cursing. Toshiba scrambles and worms, jumping off the couch and back onto it until she can find a way to fit herself between Brad and Nate’s bodies and purr happily.
Nate’s so stupidly happy over the fact that Toshiba missed him that he forgets for a minute that Brad has missed him too, and is looking at him like he’s a traitorous bastard. “Look, Brad,” Nate grins. “Toshiba loves me.”
”I hate you both,” Brad huffs. He sits back on his heels and glares down at Nate for a moment, before he shakes his head and stands up. “I’m going to take a shower. You’re free to join me when you’re done with your interspecies love affair.”
Nate takes a minute to scratch behind Toshiba’s ears, before he buries his face in her fur and makes a happy sound. “I love you, Recon Kitty, but I have some reconnaissance of my own to be doing right now,” he tells her, carding his fingers through dark orange fur. “We’ll pick this back up in half an hour.”
Toshiba gives Nate a dirty look when he pushes her off of his chest, and she follows him through the house until he makes it to the bathroom. She’s probably going to sit outside the door and yowl the entire time, but Nate has more pressing matters to be concerned with. Namely, getting naked and wet with Brad and doing the explicit things that freak Brad out to do in front of the cat.
Nate missed being home more than he knows how to express.
The Sunday night before Nate’s due to go back to Boston, Poke calls to invite him and Brad out for beer and wings with the rest of the team. Nate blinks slowly, before offering Poke a quick “I’ll call you back and let you know” before he pockets his phone and folds his arms over his chest. “You’re cheating on me.”
Brad wipes at his eyes tiredly, blinking away sleep as he stares over at Nate. “What the fuck are you going on about now?” he asks gruffly.
Nate just points at Toshiba, curled up tight in the space between Brad’s legs and purring loudly. “I should have known better than to leave you two alone. I always figured if anyone was going to perv out on Toshiba, it’d be Ray.”
Brad sits up and shoves at Toshiba none-too-gently to make room on the couch. He ignores her as she bats at his foot and hisses before getting comfortable on the back of the couch. “Well, if you weren’t going to spend all your time between my legs, I had to find someone else who would. Plus, she vibrates.”
Laughing, Nate shakes his head before moving towards the couch and sitting at the opposite end. “Poke invited us out for beer and wings with the guys,” he says, grinning when Brad pushes forward to capture Nate’s lips in a quick kiss. “I told him we’d probably go, but I figured I’d ask you just in case.”
”When?” Brad asks, nipping at Nate’s jaw before nuzzling into his throat. His hands are already skimming up under the hem of Nate’s shirt, his fingers teasing lightly against Nate’s skin.
”In an hour or so,” Nate replies. He lets Brad drag his body where he wants it, content to just run his fingers through Brad’s hair as Brad mouths kisses against his shoulders. “Do I have to go back to Boston tomorrow?”
”The question is whether I’ll let you go back,” Brad counters. He kisses his way back up to Nate’s mouth, nipping and licking at Nate’s lips until Nate reaches out with his own tongue, and they both make soft, happy sounds. “And the answer is ‘no’.”
Nate just hums in response, before smiling. “Hey, Brad?”
Brad pauses in nibbling at Nate’s jaw. “What?”
”Will you sing me more Air Supply?”
”I hate you so much,” Brad grunts, biting down hard.
Nate makes a startled sound, but he’s laughing. He doesn’t know why on Earth he would ever possibly want to leave Brad (and Toshiba) in the first place, because being here was just too impossibly good. “I’m really glad we got a cat instead of a baby,” Nate says idly, tracing his fingers across Brad’s brow and down his jaw.
Sitting back on his heels between Nate’s legs, Brad looks down at Nate and seems to consider this. Resting one large hand on Nate’s stomach, he says “are you trying to say you don’t want to have my baby? Because your hips and mouth agree that you could pull off the swollen and glowing thing quite nicely.”
”And risk stretch marks?” Nate quips. “No, if anyone is gaining a hundred pounds to drop a half-Viking baby, it’s going to be you.”
”Is that a challenge, sir?” Brad asks, his voice dropping and a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, “because I believe I still have to make you beg. We can make an evening of it.”
Nate doesn’t bother to fight the flush that threatens to spill across his cheeks. He means to say I’d like to see you try, but instead asks, “What about Poke?”
”Poke can wait,” Brad growls, climbing off the couch and tugging Nate with him. He leans close to nip at Nate’s earlobe, murmuring “you’re mine and I don’t like to share. Not even with Recon Kitty.”
Something dark and hot is curling low in Nate’s stomach, and he lets himself be tugged towards the bedroom where they can be alone. He isn’t surprised when Brad slams him against the closed door, his mouth finding Nate’s easily and he doesn’t so much as kiss as he tries to dominate. The only thing Nate can do is fist his hands in Brad’s shirt and hold on for dear life.
This is home, and with or without children or cats, Nate never wants to leave again.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Brad Colbert x Nate Fick, Ray Person
Warning(s): language, domestic
Spoiler(s): N/A
Word Count: 10,000+
Rants: This is the first full length fic I have written for GK. Everything else has been twitfic or drabble length (and oddly enough, far more porn-y). This fic also has a ridiculous amount of sex mentioned without there being any actual sex at all. I'd also like to point out that my cat's name really is Princess Sarin and I had this kind of cat in mind for this fic (an orange norqegian forest cat). Written for annundriel, who introduced me to this fandom in the first place. You are a doll. <3
Summary: Nate’s not an idiot, he knows Brad wants to have kids. Nate does the one thing he can think of to stem the baby wanting, and that’s to adopt a dog. Or a cat, really, because a dog is a lot of effort. He just wasn’t planning for any of the drama adopting a cat would cause.
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the fictionalized portrayal of a real event. No disrespect intended. I have nothing to do with Generation Kill in the least. Neither do I own Sweet Dreams by Air Supply.
Crossposted to: generation_kill
Nate’s not an idiot. Idealistic and naïve, maybe, on a stretch, but no one in their right mind would accuse Nate of being an idiot. Just because he’s not active duty in the Marines anymore doesn’t mean he doesn’t see things. Once a Marine, always a Marine, after all.
Nate sees the way Brad’s lip quirks into a smile whenever he’s around Poke’s girls. He has seen Brad sword fighting with his youngest nephew and wearing a tiara gifted to him by his niece. Hell, Nate watched as Brad taught Nate’s own nephew how to tie his shoes. Nate knows, because he knows Brad completely, inside and out, that as much as he tries to hide the fact, that Brad likes children.
Some days, when Brad is relaxed on the couch with either of his sisters’ children on either side of him and a book spread out on his lap, Nate gets the feeling that Brad wants children.
And while Nate has accepted the fact that yeah, Brad would be an awesome father, he himself isn’t even remotely close to being ready to even entertain the idea of maybe actually being one. To think that they are ready for it. For one, Nate spends most of his time in Boston attending Harvard while Brad’s still in Oceanside being one of the few and the proud. It has nothing to do with lack of commitment or love, either, because there isn’t anyone else for either of them. There hasn’t been for a long time.
It’s just that sometimes, when Brad’s got a child asleep against his chest or riding on his shoulders, he looks over at Nate with an embarrassed, shy smile. And in these moments, Nate knows, without a shadow of a doubt, if Brad asked him to stay, to start a family with him, that Nate would because this is Brad. He’s the most important thing (person) in Nate’s life.
So Nate does what any sensible person who is scared to have children does; he decides to adopt a dog. Only, after doing research on the subject, because Nate is a firm believer in research, it occurs to him that a dog is a lot of effort and even though Brad’s not due to be stationed overseas anytime soon, he still doesn’t spend that much time at their house. Getting a dog doesn’t make sense, and it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.
Cats, on the other hand, are much more solitary creatures. It’s okay for them to be alone for a day or two because they can take care of themselves. If worse comes to worst while Nate’s at college and Brad’s away, one of their sisters will probably look after the cat.
It makes perfect sense, Nate decides. People get pets all the time when they’re not ready for the next step, but still want some sign that they’re ready for serious commitment. Cats are relatively easy to take care of, they don’t need walked every day and they don’t scream for attention when you leave them alone for a minute.
It doesn’t take a lot of deliberation for Nate to decide that yeah, he’s going to do this, and once he’s made up his mind, that’s that. They’re getting a cat.
In hindsight, it occurs to Nate that maybe he should have told Brad they were getting a cat. Or at least hinted about it a little. It is kind of a big deal, but by the time Nate has already picked out a kitten from the Humane Society - he was going to get an older cat, but this one had big blue eyes and went around intimidating the other kittens into submission and punching them and it reminded Nate too much of Brad to pass up on - and adopted her, it was too late.
”It’s okay, though,” Nate tells the kitten, scratching her behind the ears and laughing when she bats at his fingers. “If anything, he’ll only yell at me.”
She looks impossibly small in her kennel, barely two months old and a soft white. The vets told him she probably wouldn’t stay that color, so he probably didn’t want to call her Snowball, and Nate had just scoffed. Snowball isn’t a name, it’s an object, and Nate’s a firm believer in names. In the end, he just writes her name down as Cat, because he doesn’t want to pick something and have Brad mock him about it for the rest of their lives.
He’s overly cautious on the drive home, glancing back to make sure the kennel hasn’t fallen off the seat and that the kitten is still glowering at him from her prison. She reminds him more and more of Brad in each passing moment, and Nate knows he made the right choice in picking her. He can’t keep a smile off his face on the entire drive back to the house.
The first thing Nate does when he gets home is shut all the bedroom and bathroom doors and cabinets. He watches the kitten like a hawk for the first hour to make sure she doesn’t get into anything that she shouldn’t, but after deciding that she takes personal offense to the coffee table, she curls up under the TV stand and hisses whenever Nate gets too close or tries to get her to play.
Nate loses track of time checking e-mails, chatting with his mother and marathoning Mythbusters, but every now and then the kitten braves out from underneath the TV to explore one patch of the living room or another. She’s doing basic reconnaissance, Nate decides, and it makes him smile stupidly.
Eventually she makes her way to where Nate is, nips at his toes and the power cord for his laptop, and she hisses when he tries to pet her. She bats at the coffee table in annoyance before giving up and curling up to nap on one of Brad’s USMC sweatshirts, tossed haphazardly over the arm of the couch. Every now and then, she’ll open her blue eyes to watch Nate.
Nate’s only had her for a few hours, barely even held her, but he knows now that no matter how Brad takes this, it would kill him to get rid of her. Getting a cat, Nate decides, was a very good idea indeed.
Brad’s barely in the front door when he says “no”, throwing an accusatory look over in Nate’s direction.
Nate blinks in confusion, fighting back a yawn and the sleep that’s been threatening to drag him into unconsciousness for the last hour or so. “What?” He asks, frowning.
Huffing, Brad tosses Nate another dark look, before he turns to look over at the kitten. She had been entertaining herself playing with the strings on Nate’s sneakers, but she’s been watching Brad with rapt attention ever since he opened the front door. Brad looks over at Nate and says “no” again, firmer.
Which strikes Nate as being entirely unfair, because Brad hasn’t even taken off his shoes or jacket yet. He’s barely home and he’s already telling Nate no. And okay, fine, Nate knows he should have brought this up before, “but - “
”No,” Brad says again.
Nate opens his mouth to complain, but he’s cut off by the sight of the kitten walking over to Brad and meowing up at him. Her tiny paws plop onto the top of his boot, her tail swishing and curling in some sort of adorable happiness. Not that Nate thinks she’s adorable. He doesn’t. He does have some self-respect both as a man and a Marine. “She likes you.”
Brad nudges the kitten away gently with his boot, slowly pushing her away from him before he stoops down to unlace his boots and line them up against the wall. “I don’t care, Nate,” Brad says irritably. “It’s not staying.”
”She has to,” Nate replies. “We adopted her. Dammit, Brad, she hasn’t even been here for a day, we can’t just take her back. What the Hell kind of terrible animal adopter do you think I am? The Humane Society would probably shoot me.”
”With all due respect, sir,” Brad huffs, voice heavy with sarcasm. “You adopted it. I had no part in this. I don’t care if you toss it in the ocean, it’s not staying.”
”You don’t mean that.” It comes out as an accusation, a plea, and Nate stares at Brad’s shoulder to avoid meeting his eyes. He doesn’t care if he’s flushing in rage, Brad’s being an asshole. “And she’s not an ‘it’, Brad.”
They’re at a silent standoff, Brad not willing to take his words back and Nate trying not to yell. He knows he made a mistake, he could have gone about this better, but Brad needs to understand and Nate doesn’t know how to make him. Nate did this for them.
The kitten rubs herself against the back of Brad’s ankle, purring, until he pushes her away to cross the room and drop his bag and jacket on the couch. “She’s not staying.”
Nate closes his laptop and leans forward to put it on the coffee table. He reaches out to grab Brad’s wrist, squeezing his fingers tightly, once, before tugging Brad towards him. Brad doesn’t move, so Nate shoots him a pathetic look. “I want her, Brad. I want her to stay.”
”Then you and her can go stay somewhere else,” Brad shoots back bitterly. He tugs his wrist free of Nate’s grasp, but he moves to collapse on the far side of the couch. He pushes the kitten away from him again with his foot, before he snags the remote and starts to flip the channels.
”I’m telling your mom that you’re kicking me out because of a cat,” Nate says accusingly.
”I’m telling your mom that you adopted a cat without talking to me first,” Brad says breezily.
”My mom likes cats,” Nate counters.
”Then she can have the cat.” Brad’s annoyance is almost palpable, and he abandons channel surfing in favor of glowering at the cat. “Leave me alone,” he tells her, pushing her away with his foot yet again. “Go away.”
”She’s our cat, Bradley,” Nate hums. He scoots across the couch to lean against Brad’s side, throwing his legs over Brad’s lap and resting his chin on Brad’s shoulder. He ignores Brad’s dirty look in favor of tangling their fingers together. “It’s just a cat, Brad. Come on. Let her stay.”
For a moment, Brad seems to honestly consider it. He rests his free hand on Nate’s knee, drumming his fingers against the denim slowly and squeezes Nate’s fingers with his own. He glances over at the cat, watches as she ducks under the coffee table and watches him with suspicious eyes. “No,” Brad says again.
Sighing heavily, Nate presses a soft kiss to Brad’s shoulder before resting his cheek against it. “I love you,” he says softly, tracing his thumb along Brad’s and doing his best to look pathetic.
Brad flashes Nate a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes and scowling at him. “That’s cheating.”
”I know,” Nate says, smiling. “That doesn’t make it any less true.” It doesn’t, but there’s a small part of Nate that feels a little guilty for using the words against Brad. They don’t say them that often, either of them, and it really is cheating. Nate can’t bring himself to care though.
”I don’t like cats,” Brad mutters, slumping back into the couch. “They’re satanic little bastards who steal your pillows in the middle of the night and dart out from under furniture to bite your ankles.”
”Huh,” Nate says. He presses his lips against Brad’s shoulder again, before letting go of his hand to reach for Brad’s neck, twisting and tugging until he can lean close enough to brush his lips against Brad’s. “You have some serious repressed issues there. Who’s cat was it?”
”My grandmother’s,” Brad huffs out. “His name was Mr. Mittens and he hated me.” He scowls at the memory, and Nate takes the chance to kiss his forehead. “What is your stupid cat’s name, anyways?”
”She doesn’t have one,” Nate replies. He pushes back far enough to rest his forehead on Brad’s shoulder, tangling their fingers together again. “I didn’t want to name her without you.”
”You do realize it’s a cat, Nate, not a baby,” Brad huffs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what you name the little beast.”
At the mention of baby, Nate squeezes his fingers in Brad’s automatically, and tries not to tense up. It’s ridiculous, Brad has no way of possibly knowing Nate’s alternative movies for adopting a cat. “So you’d be okay if I named her ‘Princess Peach’ or something.”
”If she’s going to be a Princess, at least make it something badass, you pussyfooted liberal,” Brad snorts, squeezing Nate’s fingers back gently. “Like Sarin.”
Nate tosses Brad a dark look. “You want to name our cat after a nerve agent?” he asks. “Did it ever occur to you that you take your job a little too seriously?”
”Impossible, sir,” Brad replies, face slipping into stoic, Iceman territory. “My job is my life.”
”Stop calling me ‘sir’,” Nate grumbles. “No naming our cat after anything that has anything to do with the Marines. I’m serious.”
Brad blinks in confusion, glancing over at Nate. “You’re giving me free reign on what to name a cat I didn’t even know I was adopting in the first place?”
”I retain the power of veto, but sure,” Nate replies, shrugging. “I really have no idea what you’re supposed to name cats. The vets don’t think she’s going to stay a white puffball, but as long as she isn’t a Snowball I think we’re good.”
”Mmmh, snowball,” Brad says. At Nate’s blank stare, he quirks an eyebrow and smirks suggestively.
It’s Nate’s term to scowl and say “no”.
It’s then that the kitten decides she’s had enough of hiding, and she pounces on Brad’s foot again. He glares at her, but doesn’t shove her away, and she takes it to mean she’s free to drape herself over his foot before going boneless. “I think she fell asleep on my foot.”
Nate leans over to look at the kitten, whom had moments before been making undoubtedly devious plans, and now looked dead to the world. “She’s a Recon Marine in training,” Nate says, reaching out to run a finger across her spine. “She’ll fall asleep anywhere at a moment’s notice.”
Brad just scoffs at Nate. He waggles his foot to dislodge the kitten, but when she doesn’t move, he huffs out and slumps back into the couch. “I’m not happy with you, for the record.”
”I know,” Nate says, smiling softly.
”You’re not allowed to not want to put out anymore, ever,” Brad continues. “I’m serious. I don’t think you understand the depth of the compromises we’re making here so you can have your stupid cat. Your ass is mine for the rest of eternity.”
Nate rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to hide his grin as he leans towards Brad to kiss him again. “To be fair, it already was,” Nate points out.
”Yes, but now it’s official.”
It’s not exactly how Nate had intended for the events to play out or for this confession of forever to go, but in the end, Nate agrees wholeheartedly. Instead of voicing this though, he opts to kiss Brad again, openmouthed and filthy, and he’s positive Brad would prefer this to words anyways.
Nate ends up buying the kitten a ridiculous amount of toys, because all the little bells and feathers and strings make him strangely happy. The kitten is just as happy to play with Nate’s shoelaces as she is any of the things Nate buys her, and her most favorite thing in the universe is a brown paper back Nate can’t bring himself to get rid of.
He buys her a cute pink collar with a bell, too, but Brad absolutely refuses to let her wear it. Apparently, it’s crossing some sort of line of homosexuality Nate didn’t realize they weren’t allowed to cross or even existed.
Brad buys the kitten a camouflage collar, which he points out doesn’t break the rules of not naming the cat anything Marine related. “Besides,” Brad huffs, “you’re the one who keeps calling her ‘Recon Kitty’.”
As much as Brad hates the bell, after a week of the kitten stalking them around their house, Brad agrees it is a necessary evil. She’s still quiet, but now there’s a faint warning tinkling before she pounces.
For three weeks, Brad calls the cat ‘Cat’. It’s only when Nate puts his foot down and demands Brad pick a name already that Brad decides on ‘Toshiba’.
Nate’s pretty sure Brad does this on purpose, because he knows how Nate feels about names-that-aren’t-names, but Nate’s just glad the cat finally has a proper name that Brad actually seems to say without mocking or being mildly embarrassed of, so he lets it slide.
”It could be worse,” Nate decides, watching Toshiba as she chases a small bell around the living room. “At least you aren’t a Mac or Apple or something.”
”Don’t even joke about that,” Brad says, glowering at Nate.
Though it doesn’t occur to Nate at the time, in hindsight he will come to decide that this is the point in time where it starts to become obvious that Brad doesn’t hate Toshiba as much as he says he does.
Brad continues to push Toshiba away whenever she tries to curl up next to him, and he refuses to let her sleep in the room with them. Because while he’s apparently okay with sucking Nate off in the middle of the Iraqi dessert, surrounded by bitter and bored Marines and Iraqi soldiers where they could get caught and have their lives ruined, he apparently can’t concentrate at debauching Nate when the cat is staring at him.
It’s funny, ridiculously so, but Nate’s not brave enough to laugh at Brad’s insecurities when Brad didn’t want to adopt the cat in the first place. She sits outside the bedroom door and yowls all night if she can’t sleep with them, though, and after the first week of Brad not doing any of the owning of Nate’s ass that he assured Nate was going to happen, Nate starts to be less than amused by the entire situation as well.
”It’s your fault,” Nate tells Brad, resting his chin on Brad’s thigh while Toshiba continues to yowl. “She doesn’t care at all if I’m not in the same room as her. You’re the one she’s obsessed with. You know she sits by the door and yowls for like an hour after you leave every morning? It’s ridiculous. I can’t get any concentrating done.”
”So you’ve told me,” Brad says. He props himself up on an elbow before reaching for Nate, grabbing his forearm and tugging him up the bed. “I still maintain my innocence in this. You are the one who adopted her, so the blame will always fall on you.”
Nate moves easily, pressing a quick kiss to Brad’s lips before rolling to the side and curling against him. “You’re the one who can’t get it up if a cat is watching him or yowling outside his bedroom door. Just admit it. You hate to hear her in pain.”
The look Brad gives Nate is positively hateful. “I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want anything to do with you. You and your goddamn cat can both go drown in the ocean.” He pulls himself free of Nate and rolls to the far side of the bed.
”Brad, don’t be like that,” Nate says. It’s a serious effort to keep the grin off of his face, and he crawls across the bed to Brad’s side again. “Come on,” he says, dropping down to kiss Brad’s shoulder, then along his collarbone to the hollow of his neck. “Just ignore her. You’ll be much happier when we’ve done any of the number of vastly inappropriate things you’ve sworn to do to me.”
”Toshiba is more annoying than Ray Person,” Brad says bitterly. He arches his neck when Nate starts to kiss up his throat and drops a hand to hold Nate’s waist without even think about it. “I never would have thought it possible, but congratulations, sir, you haven’t lost the Officer ability to make Enlisted men absofuckinglutely miserable.”
Nate nibbles at Brad’s jaw before giving in and sighing heavily. “Fine, we can let Toshiba back in the room,” he says, sitting back on his heels. “I hope you’re happy that we’re never going to have sex again, Colbert.”
”As long as you are equally as miserable, I’m sure I’ll manage to cope,” Brad says. He rolls over the edge of the bed and snags his boxers off the floor and pulls them on. He tosses Nate his own before he goes to open the door to let Toshiba in and Nate can practically feel the glare Brad is directing towards the suddenly purring cat. “I hate you,” Brad says, but Nate isn’t sure if he’s talking to either or both of them.
Brad’s mom’s birthday happens to be the same day as the five week anniversary of having adopted Toshiba. It occurs to Nate when he listens to Brad on the phone with his mother, just like it occurs to Nate that he can count on one hand the times he and Brad have managed to have proper, penetrative sex since bringing Toshiba home.
”You’re a cock block,” Nate tells Toshiba, watching her through narrow eyes as she rubs up against Brad’s leg. “You are the worst cock block known to man. I think I might actually hate you.”
”I’m a what now?” Brad asks, pausing in his pacing of the kitchen to look over at Nate in confusion. He scowls suddenly, says “not you, mom, Nate said something,” before shoving Toshiba away with his foot. She slides across the tile before scrambling back and nuzzling against him again.
”Sorry,” Nate says, sighing heavily. “Ignore me.”
Brad quirks a questioning eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He starts pacing the kitchen again, stopping in front of Nate long enough to brush his lips against Nate’s forehead in a soft kiss before he’s moving again, ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing in time to his mother’s one-sided conversation.
This is the day that Nate decides to call Toshiba ‘cock block’, if only in his head, and he spends the rest of the afternoon glowering at her.
Ray has known Brad and Nate adopted a cat, would have probably noticed the cat hair that clung to Brad’s uniform despite Brad’s best efforts even if Ray wasn’t a Recon Marine. In all the time they’ve had Toshiba though, Ray hasn’t been to the house. When he and Brad get together, they’re either at bars or at Ray’s.
It’s not that Ray’s not welcome. As annoying as Ray can be, Nate still likes him, and even if Nate didn’t, he’s Brad’s best friend. Nate will admit that on occasion he can be known to lean towards slightly bitch like behavior that Brad tolerates with surprisingly good humor, but even if he despised Ray, Nate wouldn’t ever forbid him from coming over.
Really, Nate’s not sure why Ray hasn’t been coming over until Ray is sitting on their couch, cheeks and nose turning red while his eyes start to water. “I think I’m super fucking allergic to your goddamn pussy-ass looking cat.”
”As opposed to only being a little allergic?” Nate asks, quirking an eyebrow. As far as he can tell, Toshiba has been laying on the back of the couch behind Brad’s shoulders, her nose nestled against his neck and tail occasionally flicking side to side. She’s been nowhere near Ray, and Ray still looks ready to die from an allergic reaction.
”I believe this is your proverbial God’s way of trying to spare you from getting your ass kicked in Halo,” Brad says smugly. “It’s to stop you from crying like a little bitch, writing deplorable angsty poetry like the twelve year old, cock sucking girl you are and killing yourself.”
”Fuck you, Brad,” Ray scowls. “I think I’m honestly fucking dying.” Still, despite this, he doesn’t put down his Xbox 360 controller and go outside. He just hunches his shoulders and glowers at the screen. “Fucking cat.”
”Hey, at least the fucking cat doesn’t piss on the fucking floor,” Brad snaps. He reaches behind himself, probably subconsciously, to scratch Toshiba behind the ears until she starts to purr.
”Okay, seriously, that was one time,” Ray says, scowling over at Brad. “I was fucking drunk and you know it. How the Hell was I supposed to know that Walt can hold his liquor like a goddamn - “
”You were in my apartment, Ray,” Brad shoots back. “I don’t care what justifications you might fucking have, but that was my Goddamn kitchen - “
”I’m going to go for a run,” Nate says. Neither Brad nor Ray spare him a second glance as he stands up, and he’s really not all that surprised. Nate’s known the two of them long enough to trust them not to kill each other, despite the words they’re throwing around. “I’ll be back later,” Nate says, despite the fact he’s being ignored, and he tries not to glower too hardly at them for it.
Nate’s gone for almost an hour, and when he gets back, Ray and Brad are still snapping at each other bitterly and yelling at the TV. Toshiba is the only one who seems to have moved the entire time Nate was gone, and she’s laying in the middle of the living room floor, spread out in a sunbeam. She’s almost adorable, but Nate has to remind himself that she’s a cock block and that he hates her.
He takes his time in the shower, because he doubts Brad misses him, and he knows better than to curl into Brad’s side on the couch when he’s done. Brad’s not big on touching when it’s just the two of them, Nate can’t begin to imagine the hissy fit he’d throw with Ray around. Plus, Nate would get in the way of his gaming and that’s just unfortunate for everyone.
With nothing else to do, Nate ends up sitting on the floor across from Toshiba and rolling small bells at her until she wakes up enough to glare at him. He doesn’t stop flicking them until she gets up to chase them around the room, then smiles triumphantly when she gets one lodged under the TV stand she’s too big to crawl under now.
In the six weeks they’ve had her, Toshiba has grown a ridiculous amount. Her fur is not completely white anymore, either. She’s mostly orange, and when she sheds, her fur sticks to everything and it shows. Another one of those things that occurs to Nate in hindsight: cats shed, a lot.
”So, wait,” Ray says suddenly, snapping Nate out of his reverie and glancing over at where Toshiba is struggling to retrieve her toy. “Aren’t you going back to Boston in a couple weeks, LT?”
Captain, Nate wants to correct, but doesn’t. He had to accept that none of his men - and they were always going to be his men - were never going to call him Nate, but he’s not a lieutenant anymore, wouldn’t be even if he didn’t get out. “In three, yeah,” Nate says instead.
For a moment, Brad looks a mixture of miserable and pissed off, but it fades quickly, and Nate’s not entirely sure how to deal with this. Brad has to have known Nate was going to leave, but it’s not like it’s permanent. Nate’s going to come back, he always comes back. It’s been three years, though, and Brad still acts like he expects Nate to never come back at all.
It worries Nate, it really does.
”What the fuck is going to happen to Toshiba?” Ray asks. “Is she staying here with Brad or is she going to go be a pussyfooted, liberal, college, dick suck kitty like you are?”
”Don’t be ridiculous, Ray,” Brad huffs. “Nate’s not a cat.”
Nate scowls at Brad, and has to resist the urge to stick out his tongue. “Gee, thanks,” he drawls.
”Anytime, sir,” Brad quips back in.
”Have I ever mentioned how kinky it is that you still call him ‘sir’?” Ray asks, “because seriously - “
”Shut up, Ray,” Brad sighs heavily.
”Fuck you,” Ray huffs, flashing a lopsided smile. “Seriously though, the cat? I know Brad pretends to hate the furry little bastard but I think if you leave and take her with you, Brad will probably start writing angsty poetry and painting his nails black. He fucking loves that cat. He’s always like Nate’s goddamn cat did this or Fucking Toshiba was all like blahblahfuckingblah. It’s pathetic. He accuses me of fucking small animals.”
It’s then Toshiba decides to plop down and start yowling, and Brad starts cursing at her. “What the fuck did you do to her, Nate?” Brad snaps, “She only ever gets like this because of you.”
”Excuse me?” Nate asks, bristling up. “You’re the reason she has to sleep in our bed. And I don’t have to remind you of the problems that’s caused.” Nate glowers until Brad glowers back. “Besides, Ray is right. She’s your cat. She doesn’t even like me.”
”That’s because she’s Recon Kitty and you will always be an Officer, even when you’re not,” Brad huffs out. “And I don’t recall you kicking her out.”
”Because you won’t let me!” Nate snaps.
”You know that awkward moment when your parents are arguing and you’re still in the room?” Ray asks suddenly. “That’s kind of how it fucking feels right now.”
”Shut up, Ray, no one asked for your fucking opinion,” Brad snaps, glowering over at Ray. “And would you get Toshiba’s Goddamn toy already, Nate? She won’t shut up.”
There’s a part of Nate that wants to put his foot down, because Brad can’t always blame everything Toshiba does on him. He doesn’t though, because Toshiba is yowling and it’s beyond annoying, and Nate crawls across the living room and sticks his hand under the TV stand to find her stupid bell. “Here, Toshiba,” Nate says, flicking it across the room and towards the kitchen. He glowers over his shoulder at Brad. “I’m going for a run.”
”You just went on a run,” Ray points out, frowning.
”That’s Nate-speak for I’m pissed the fuck off at you and am going to go badmouth you to your sisters until someone feels sorry for me,” Brad replies easily.
”Just for that, I’m calling your mom,” Nate grumbles. He pushes himself up, still standing in front of the TV, and takes a moment to stretch and block as much of the screen as possible. “Bye, Ray, it was nice to see you again.”
”Get the fuck out of the way, LT,” Ray replies.
Nate scoffs, but he does so anyways. He ignores Brad as he fetches his sneakers and pulls them on, and narrowly avoids tripping over Toshiba as he finds his car keys. He has no intentions of actually calling Brad’s mom to bitch, even though the idea is severely tempting, but there is something else he can do that will piss Brad off just as much: buy Toshiba even more stuff. Nate remembers seeing pet beds at PetSmart, and he figures if nothing else, Toshiba will have something new to punch.
Around seven, Nate gets a text from Brad. Ordering Pizza. Person and I agree on Chicago style. You in?
Nate thinks about it before texting back. I’m not happy with you.
There’s only a brief pause before Brad replies. I’m not happy with you either, but I’m fucking starving.
Figuring it’s the closest thing Nate is going to get to an actual apology from Brad, he sighs and gives in. Do I need to pick up more beer?
Yes, Brad says. and Ray wants Skittles. I told him you weren’t his bitch and he could get his own damn Skittles.
Barely half a minute later, Nate’s phone buzzes with a message from Ray that says skittles plz lt whil ur still out b/c brad is a ahole.
Despite his best efforts, there is a smile working at the end of Nate’s lips. He shoots Ray a text that simply reads Okay. before sending one to Brad. Give me twenty, it says, and love you.
Never doubted it, Brad replies, and Nate knows him well enough to know it means love you, too.
Brad’s starring in disbelief while Toshiba sleeps in the pale green cat bed Nate picked up. Nate had intended to get pink, just to be an asshole, but thought better of it. “If she stays there all night, I may have to take back every negative thing I have ever said about you, sir.”
Nate silently agrees. “I think now is the time for a tactical retreat so that we can have sex in our bed again,” Nate says, curling his fingers into one of Brad’s belt-loops and tugging. “Before she decides she wants back in bed.”
Brad glances over at Nate and smirks. “This is a plan I can support completely,” he says, ducking forward to kiss Nate. He rests their foreheads together, before sighing heavily. “About earlier - “
”It’s okay,” Nate says, cutting Brad off. “I know we’ve never talked about it. I’m just - Toshiba has to stay with you. I can’t have her in my apartment.”
”That’s not what I meant,” Brad huffs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “I had figured as much though,” he says somewhat bitterly. “I hope you are happy in knowing I am going to be made fun of for owning a cat.”
”Only because I know you’ll be happy in knowing I’m miserable and cold in Boston without you and Toshiba to keep me company,” Nate replies. He brushes his lips against Brad’s softly, smiling again. “I think we should have sex now before we end up talking about our feelings or something equally as terrible.”
Brad hums, kissing Nate once again before pulling away. “I think so, too,” he says, grabbing Nate’s wrist and tugging him towards their bedroom. He’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk that Nate didn’t even realize he missed and for once, everything is good again.
”The vet thinks Toshiba is old enough to be spayed, now,” Nate says when Brad plops down onto the couch next to him, Toshiba hoping up and into his lap only a heartbeat later. Nate watches Brad shoo her away halfheartedly. “We can get her declawed at the same time.”
Brad gives Nate a blank look. “I thought that since Recon Kitty is no long Cock Block Kitty, that you would no longer seek to punish her unnecessarily. I should have known you would hold a grudge.” This time, when Toshiba attempts to take over his lap, Brad draws her close to him and cards his fingers through her thick fur. “Nate’s an asshole, Toshiba. He wants to turn you into a POG.”
”I’m right here you know,” Nate says wryly. He reaches to pet Toshiba as well, and ignores the dark look she gives him. “I just figured that since she has a habit of trying to tear my face off when I touch her, we could maybe take care of the problem at the source.”
”You’re not turning my cat into a POG,” Brad says with finality. “Toshiba needs her claws for reconnaissance and defending herself against Ray.”
Nate rolls his eyes at the absurdity of the statement, before letting himself smile. “You do realize you just admitted to Toshiba being your cat, right?”
Brad narrows his eyes and scowls at Nate. “I most certainly did not.”
”No, you definitely just said I wasn’t allowed to turn your cat into a POG,” Nate grins. “Just admit it, Brad, Toshiba has wormed her way into your heart and started tearing down your Iceman walls.”
”I hate your cat,” Brad counters. To prove his point, he picks up Toshiba by her scruff and drops her on the floor, nudging her away from him with a socked foot. “She is an aggravating, pussyfooted, attention seeking, cock blocking, gay, sister-fucking whore.”
Nate quirks an eyebrow and tries not to smirk when Brad scowls at him. “Uh huh.”
”I hate you,” Brad says. “I’m going to drive your cat into the middle of the dessert and abandon her there, and then I’m going to run over your iPod just to be spiteful on my way back.”
”Life would be a lot easier if you just admitted you like the cat, Brad,” Nate says evenly. He turns his attention back to his laptop, flicking through his e-mail and trying to ignore Brad’s dark looks. “We should get her spayed, though, even if we don’t get her declawed. I’d hate for her to have kittens while I’m away at Harvard and you’re stuck alone with a cat you detest.”
Brad’s silent for a moment, watching Toshiba stretch out and get comfortable in a sunbeam, before he looks over at Nate out of the corner of his eyes. “I’ll agree to the spaying. Toshiba is not going to become a POG, though.”
”Whatever,” Nate says, fighting back a laugh and rolling his eyes. “I’ll try and get Toshiba an appointment for next week.”
There’s a moment when Brad first comes home from work and he looks absolutely lost. He blinks in confusion when Toshiba doesn’t race across the house to weave between his legs, purring loudly as she attempts to trip him up in her desperation for attention. For a heartbeat, he looks confused and disappointed, and Nate almost feels bad.
”I took Toshiba to the vet today,” he says, leaning against the archway that leads to the kitchen. “She’s going to get spayed. They’re going to keep her for two or three days, just in case.”
”Good,” Brad says, somewhat bitterly, but he’s staring at the spot on the back of the couch where Toshiba likes to nap. “I can now walk around naked in my own house again. We can have sex on that couch.”
Nate wants to point out that Brad didn’t actually walk around naked before, but the idea kind of intrigues him, so he keeps his mouth shut. “You want to have sex on a couch that your cat spends most of her time sleeping on?”
Brad shoots Nate a dark look. “It’s my couch. I’ll have sex on it if I want to.”
Nate hums a vaguely affirmative sound before he pushes himself off of the wall and starts to pull off his shirt. “Well, I’m game,” he says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had sex somewhere that wasn’t the bedroom or the bathroom floor.”
Brad watches as Nate lets his shirt fall to the floor, and he checks around the living room to make sure Toshiba really is out of the house before he reaches for his own shirt.
And Nate knows there’s something teasing and cruel he can say about Brad’s fear of being seen naked by the cat, but it’s all been said before and he was serious about having sex somewhere other than the bedroom. So instead, Nate crosses the room to close the blinds, before moving to undo Brad’s jeans. “It’s okay,” he says, kissing along Brad’s jaw. “She’s going to be okay.”
Brad’s hands rest at Nate’s waist, and he draws him in close and squeezes his fingers bruising-tight into Nate’s hips. “I don’t care about the Goddamn cat, Nate,” Brad mutters, nuzzling into Nate’s shoulder. He can’t hide the despondence in his tone though, and Nate finds himself wrapping his arms around Brad’s neck and tugging him down for a kiss.
It’s going to be a long two or three days.
When Toshiba comes home from the vet, she won’t have anything to do with Brad or Nate. She sulks across the living room until she can curl up in her bed, and spends the rest of the day hissing at whoever comes near her.
”I think we made her worse,” Brad says, staring at her from across the room. “She might actually try and kill us in our sleep.” He pauses, then looks at Nate thoughtfully. “Well, kill you in your sleep anyways.”
”Haha,” Nate says, scowling. “The vet says she might be like this for a few days. We just need to give her time to adjust. Think of it like Kitty PTSD or something.”
”Poor Recon Kitty,” Brad mutters softly. He glances over at Nate again, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “She better not be a POG or turn out to be another Trombley.”
”I don’t even have words for you right now,” Nate sighs, shaking his head. “Just let Toshiba rest, Brad. She’s going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about her.”
”I’m not worrying about her,” Brad snaps. “When will you get that through your pussyfooted, cock sucking, ivy league, thick skull of yours?”
”You love it when I suck your cock and you know it,” Nate huffs.
”Point,” Brad concedes. “But that doesn’t change the fact I will never like your cat.”
”I know, Brad,” Nate sighs, moving closer to pat Brad’s shoulder consolingly. “I know.”
”I hate you,” Brad scowls.
Toshiba gets better. And if Toshiba’s sudden desire to sink her teeth into Nate’s ankles every time she sees them doesn’t necessarily mean she’s better, well, she eventually gets to the point where she likes to take naps on Brad’s lap again and purr happily while glowering at Nate. Really, nothing has changed.
”I hate you both,” Nate tells them, but Toshiba is purring louder than Brad’s bike and Brad just smirks smugly. “So, so much.”
Brad never helps Nate pack when he has to get ready to go back to Boston. He either watches disdainfully or mopes in another room, and it’s probably for the best. Brad doesn’t really seem to understand dressing for the weather, and if Nate wasn’t careful, he’d end up in Boston with nothing but threadbare tee shirts and worn out jeans.
Unlike Brad, Toshiba seems fascinated by Nate’s suitcase like it is the greatest thing she’s ever seen, spending a good deal of time just jumping in and out of it. She’s more than willing to sabotage Nate’s departure by batting his socks around the room or curling up on his tee-shirts and napping.
Nate watches her through narrowed eyes, but as much as he hates her sometimes, he’s really going to miss her in Boston. “Do I really have to go back?”
Brad makes a soft sound, like he’s startled Nate knew he was looming in the doorway, before he shrugs and says, “you’re the one who wanted to go back to school, sir.”
As much as Nate hates Brad calling him ‘sir’, it’s another one of those stupid things he’s going to miss. “How much mocking does wanting you to hug me warrant?” Nate asks, staring pointedly at the sweatshirt he’s trying to fold.
”A lot,” Brad replies easily. It doesn’t stop him from moving across the room and wrapping his arms around Nate’s waist though, or dropping his forehead down onto Nate’s shoulder. “I’ll probably be forced to make various remarks about you having grown a pussy for the next few weeks.”
”You wish I’d grown a pussy,” Nate scoffs, but it sounds forced, even to him. He tosses his sweatshirt into his suitcase haphazardly before slumping back against Brad. He doesn’t give any warning, but Brad catches his weight easily anyways.
Brad makes a thoughtful noise. “It would make matters interesting,” Brad concedes. “But unless you’re getting boobs, you’d look like a twelve year old girl. Ray may swing that way, but at the risk of becoming a pedophile, I’d rather your genital situation remain the way it is.”
”It’s okay to say you’ll miss my cock, Brad,” Nate hums, patting at Brad’s arm awkwardly, consolingly.
Scoffing, Brad nips at Nate’s shoulder. “It’s not the only part of you I would miss,” he says softly. He bites lightly at the juncture of Nate’s shoulder and neck, before nosing at Nate’s ear, huffing out a soft breath.
”Brad,” Nate warns, “I have to finish packing.” He makes no attempt to stop Brad’s hands from sliding up under his shirt though, large, warm hands roaming up Nate’s side until he can pinch and flick at nipples before his hands dip back down and slide under the hem of Nate’s sweats. “Seriously, Brad?” If Nate’s cheeks are flushed and his breath catching, it’s not his fault.
”Yes,” Brad replies simply. He pulls back enough to shove Nate none too gently onto the bed before scanning the room for Toshiba. He picks her up by the scruff and ignores her dark glares. “I expect you to be naked in the next thirty seconds, sir.”
Nate rolls his eyes before rolling onto his back, shrugging off his shirt and kicking off his sweats easily. He should probably complain about the fact the bed is covered in the stuff he’s taking back to Boston with him, that he needs to finish packing. Nate just watches as Brad tosses Toshiba from the room though, and in a heartbeat Brad’s naked and covering Nate’s body with his own, and Nate gives up on trying to maintain the allusion of caring.
Nate’s very much sore when Brad drops him off at the airport, but as much as he glowers, he really doesn’t mind. The bites and bruises will remind him of home, at least for a little while. Instead, Nate concentrates on the fact he can’t hug Brad goodbye and kiss him half to death and tries to let everything he’s feeling transfer with a soft touch to Brad’s elbow.
Brad just ducks his head in a low nod, a tired smile quirking the corners of his lips. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, sir.”
”Brad,” Nate says softly.
”Nate,” Brad corrects.
It’s ridiculously hard to let go of Brad. It always is. Still, Nate drops his hands to his sides and tries to look like he’s not completely miserable. “No killing Toshiba while I’m gone,” Nate says, and he means I love you and I’ll miss you and wait for me. “Even if she is a bitchy little Recon Kitty.”
”I’m sure there is something ironic about you hating the cat you begged me to keep,” Brad says wryly.
”I didn’t beg,” Nate scoffs. “I don’t beg.”
Brad quirks an eyebrow, a deeply amused look on his face and something dark in his eyes. “Is that a challenge, sir - Nate?”
They don’t have time for this. They really don’t have time for this. “I’ll call you when I get there,” Nate says instead. “I should get going.”
There’s a moment of hesitation on Brad’s face at the mention of leaving, because Brad always hesitates, before he drags Nate forward into a one armed hug, his hand heavy and warm on Nate’s back. “If I don’t hear from you in eight hours…”
”You’ll send out a reconnaissance team?” Nate teases. He makes a soft sound when Brad pulls away, and forces himself to smile. “I’m just going to Boston, Brad. I do this all the time.”
”That may be true,” Brad mutters, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
This is the part where Nate leaves for his plane. If he stays any longer, they’ll be dragged into something emotional and saying goodbye will just be impossible. Nate bites the inside of his cheek before saying, “I’ll call. And don’t kill Toshiba.”
”Your Goddamn cat is going to be fine,” Brad huffs. “Now go get on your plane.”
Nate doesn’t want to, but he does.
Nate’s apartment looks exactly the way he left it, with the exception of his youngest sister’s shoes by the door and her jacket on the back of the couch. He isn’t all that surprised that she’s passed out on the couch, and he takes a moment to cover her with an afghan their mother made before he makes his way to his room and calls Brad.
Brad answers on the third ring. “So you’re not dead, I take it.”
”Nope,” Nate agrees softly. He cradles his phone between his shoulder and ear while he toes off his sneakers and wiggles out of his jeans. “I think I’m gonna go to bed though. It’s almost oh-one-hundred here.”
”I can do basic math,” Brad replies, and Nate’s not surprised he sounds a little exhausted. It’s only 2100 in California, but it’s been a long day. “I don’t even warrant more than ten words from you? Maybe I will let Toshiba starve.”
”Don’t be like that, Brad,” Nate sighs. He lets out a soft ‘oomph’ when he collapses on his bed, crawling towards his pillows. “If you don’t want me to hang up, then find something to say.”
There’s a moment of silence from Brad’s end of the phone, and Nate can hear him shuffling around. “This is the time when you need a friend, you just need someone near?” Brad tries. “I’m not looking forward to the night I’ll spend thinking of you when you’re not here.”
Nate blinks in confusion once, twice, three times. “Brad?” He asks, because he’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but it sounds familiar.
Another heartbeat passes, Brad muttering “how many times will I think about the things I’d like to do, always denied the right to live my life - ” and then it clicks.
Nate doesn’t know if he wants to grin or roll his eyes. “Are you serenading me, Sergeant Colbert?”
” - the way I want, I want to share it with you, shut the fuck up Nate, we’re having a moment,” Brad snaps. “You’re the one who told me to talk. Song’s been stuck in my head all week.”
”I didn’t expect you to start muttering Air Supply at me,” Nate huffs, but he’s smiling. “Not that I’m surprised by your choice of artist. I like the song, though. It’s almost sweet.”
”I hate you,” Brad mutters. “I shouldn’t have picked up the damn phone.”
Rolling onto his back, Nate tries not to laugh. He kicks at his covers until he can climb under them and he fights back a yawn. “Don’t stop, Brad. I didn’t mean it.”
Brad grumbles on the other end of the phone, a long litany of insults directed at Nate and a brief moment where he’s telling Toshiba he’ll skin her alive if she thinks about laying on top of his laptop, before Brad sighs heavily. “Close your eyes, I want to ride the skies in my sweet dreams,” Brad says.
”I love you,” Nate mutters, and he’s still smiling when he drifts off to sleep during the final chorus of Brad singing, “Close your eyes, I want to see you tonight in my sweet dreams.”
”I think Toshiba misses you,” Brad says. “She keeps staring at the front door in confusion.”
Nate’s both surprised and ridiculously pleased by this. “Are you sure she’s not just trying to get at the Robertson’s dog again?”
”A Chihuahua is not a dog,” Brad scoffs. “Even the cat knows that.”
”I miss Toshiba, too,” Nate says, sighing heavily. Nate’s not entirely sure, but he gets the feeling that they’re not just talking about Toshiba.
Nate’s proud to say he manages to make it to two weeks away from Brad before he gives in and jerks off while Brad’s on the other end of the phone line.
Brad, for his part, just seems amused by the entire ordeal. He wasn’t doing anything to initiate Nate’s moment of weakness, just prattling on about his bike or the new terabyte and a half hard drive he wants to get, taking a minute to bitch at Toshiba for drooling on him while she napped.
When Nate’s finished, he can practically hear Brad’s smirk as he asks, “I see you’re a lot more hands on this year.”
”Shut up,” Nate mutters bitterly. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if Toshiba wasn’t laying on you. It’s not my fault you have issues - “
Brad hangs up on Nate, leaving Nate to scowl at his ceiling and miss the warmth of sharing a bed with someone else.
Nate calls back that night to apologize. By the time he hangs up, they’ve both gotten off, and Nate takes this to mean that they’re both okay again.
Sometimes, Nate calls because he misses Toshiba. He calls almost every day, just to hear Brad speak, even if he is the one who does most of the talking. Sometimes though, and only sometimes, he misses the way Toshiba sounds when she’s purring or the way she feels when she’s curled up, heavy and boneless in his lap as she naps.
”I really do miss Recon Kitty,” he admits meekly, even though he means I miss my baby. He has to remind himself that he can’t just buy a ridiculous amount of cat stuff, because Brad hates when Nate buys Toshiba bells and feathers and treats when she already has a small mountain at home.
”Recon Kitty has taken over your side of the bed,” Brad informs Nate after the confession. “I wasn’t going to let her stay, but she doesn’t kick or snore. She’s a much more considerate bedmate than you.”
Nate is never going to admit how depressed the thought makes him. He gets that Brad has trouble sleeping in silence, but he doesn’t have to rub in the fact he replaced Nate with Nate’s cat. “I always knew you loved Toshiba more than you loved me.”
”With good reason,” Brad replies. There’s a moment of silence, while Brad seems to debate something, before he sighs heavily and gives in. “Toshiba is very particular about staying on her side of the bed.”
”It’s okay to admit you miss cuddling,” Nate snorts. “I won’t tell on you. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”
”I hate you,” Brad replies. “I’m going to hang up now.”
”I hate you, too. You can be assured of this,” Nate offers, grinning anyways. “I’ll be home in a few weeks. I want proof of Toshiba’s continued existence or I’m not coming back.”
Brad makes a scoffing sound before he hangs up, and Nate shakes his head. Barely a minute passes before Nate’s phone beeps with a message from Brad, and it’s a picture of Toshiba stretched out in a sunbeam. Nate doesn’t think he’ll ever get home soon enough.
Brad randomly texts Nate pictures of Toshiba lazying around their house or plotting the demise of various household objects after that. Nate’s favorite is one of Toshiba draped over Brad’s shoulder like a dishrag and he doesn’t even think before he sets it as his background. Every time he uses his phone he smiles, but that was kind of the point in the first place.
They’ve been doing this for three years, they have a schedule, a routine. As soon as the front door closes, Brad will pin Nate to it and kiss him until they’re both starving for oxygen and even then they’ll keep going until the last possible moment. Then Brad will start to trail kisses across Nate’s jaw and slide his hands up Nate’s shirt to touch as much skin as he can.
For his part, Nate is completely willing to go with this. He has no qualms about letting Brad do whatever he wants to Nate, doing his best just to hold on while it happens. It’s a pattern they’ve found works, and by the time they tumble onto the couch half naked and trying to force as much skin as possible together, Nate’s able to forget everything.
But then Toshiba pounces on Brad’s back, causing him to make a completely undignified sound, before he bumps his forehead against Nate’s and they both start cursing. Toshiba scrambles and worms, jumping off the couch and back onto it until she can find a way to fit herself between Brad and Nate’s bodies and purr happily.
Nate’s so stupidly happy over the fact that Toshiba missed him that he forgets for a minute that Brad has missed him too, and is looking at him like he’s a traitorous bastard. “Look, Brad,” Nate grins. “Toshiba loves me.”
”I hate you both,” Brad huffs. He sits back on his heels and glares down at Nate for a moment, before he shakes his head and stands up. “I’m going to take a shower. You’re free to join me when you’re done with your interspecies love affair.”
Nate takes a minute to scratch behind Toshiba’s ears, before he buries his face in her fur and makes a happy sound. “I love you, Recon Kitty, but I have some reconnaissance of my own to be doing right now,” he tells her, carding his fingers through dark orange fur. “We’ll pick this back up in half an hour.”
Toshiba gives Nate a dirty look when he pushes her off of his chest, and she follows him through the house until he makes it to the bathroom. She’s probably going to sit outside the door and yowl the entire time, but Nate has more pressing matters to be concerned with. Namely, getting naked and wet with Brad and doing the explicit things that freak Brad out to do in front of the cat.
Nate missed being home more than he knows how to express.
The Sunday night before Nate’s due to go back to Boston, Poke calls to invite him and Brad out for beer and wings with the rest of the team. Nate blinks slowly, before offering Poke a quick “I’ll call you back and let you know” before he pockets his phone and folds his arms over his chest. “You’re cheating on me.”
Brad wipes at his eyes tiredly, blinking away sleep as he stares over at Nate. “What the fuck are you going on about now?” he asks gruffly.
Nate just points at Toshiba, curled up tight in the space between Brad’s legs and purring loudly. “I should have known better than to leave you two alone. I always figured if anyone was going to perv out on Toshiba, it’d be Ray.”
Brad sits up and shoves at Toshiba none-too-gently to make room on the couch. He ignores her as she bats at his foot and hisses before getting comfortable on the back of the couch. “Well, if you weren’t going to spend all your time between my legs, I had to find someone else who would. Plus, she vibrates.”
Laughing, Nate shakes his head before moving towards the couch and sitting at the opposite end. “Poke invited us out for beer and wings with the guys,” he says, grinning when Brad pushes forward to capture Nate’s lips in a quick kiss. “I told him we’d probably go, but I figured I’d ask you just in case.”
”When?” Brad asks, nipping at Nate’s jaw before nuzzling into his throat. His hands are already skimming up under the hem of Nate’s shirt, his fingers teasing lightly against Nate’s skin.
”In an hour or so,” Nate replies. He lets Brad drag his body where he wants it, content to just run his fingers through Brad’s hair as Brad mouths kisses against his shoulders. “Do I have to go back to Boston tomorrow?”
”The question is whether I’ll let you go back,” Brad counters. He kisses his way back up to Nate’s mouth, nipping and licking at Nate’s lips until Nate reaches out with his own tongue, and they both make soft, happy sounds. “And the answer is ‘no’.”
Nate just hums in response, before smiling. “Hey, Brad?”
Brad pauses in nibbling at Nate’s jaw. “What?”
”Will you sing me more Air Supply?”
”I hate you so much,” Brad grunts, biting down hard.
Nate makes a startled sound, but he’s laughing. He doesn’t know why on Earth he would ever possibly want to leave Brad (and Toshiba) in the first place, because being here was just too impossibly good. “I’m really glad we got a cat instead of a baby,” Nate says idly, tracing his fingers across Brad’s brow and down his jaw.
Sitting back on his heels between Nate’s legs, Brad looks down at Nate and seems to consider this. Resting one large hand on Nate’s stomach, he says “are you trying to say you don’t want to have my baby? Because your hips and mouth agree that you could pull off the swollen and glowing thing quite nicely.”
”And risk stretch marks?” Nate quips. “No, if anyone is gaining a hundred pounds to drop a half-Viking baby, it’s going to be you.”
”Is that a challenge, sir?” Brad asks, his voice dropping and a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, “because I believe I still have to make you beg. We can make an evening of it.”
Nate doesn’t bother to fight the flush that threatens to spill across his cheeks. He means to say I’d like to see you try, but instead asks, “What about Poke?”
”Poke can wait,” Brad growls, climbing off the couch and tugging Nate with him. He leans close to nip at Nate’s earlobe, murmuring “you’re mine and I don’t like to share. Not even with Recon Kitty.”
Something dark and hot is curling low in Nate’s stomach, and he lets himself be tugged towards the bedroom where they can be alone. He isn’t surprised when Brad slams him against the closed door, his mouth finding Nate’s easily and he doesn’t so much as kiss as he tries to dominate. The only thing Nate can do is fist his hands in Brad’s shirt and hold on for dear life.
This is home, and with or without children or cats, Nate never wants to leave again.