We'll All Float On Okay (gk fic)
We’ll All Float On Okay
Generation Kill fic
pairing: Brad/Nate
rating: R
word count: 1017
disclaimer: This story is based on the fictionalized characters from the HBO miniseries Generation Kill. It's fiction, that's all.
summary: Every relationship is the junction of little things.
notes: Written for gk_remix challenge. The idea for this fic was inspired by this (thanks, eiirene!) and the titles of all drabbles are from this as well. The main title is from the song “Float On” by Modest Mouse, my prompt.
Thanks to idrilka for beta!
Metamorphosis
It takes them three years. Nate has to come back, leave the Corps, fight through the memories, sleepless nights, apathy and never agains, and go back to college, where he works hard and doesn’t lose sleep over anyone’s life. Brad has to come back, take a trip, drink some, exercise more, feel the water closing around him again and again, go to England, go back to Iraq, live through it again and come back home again.
It takes them three years to meet again under Mike’s roof and understand there’s still something from back then they haven’t dealt with yet.
Desires
Nate can’t remember touching Brad back then. He probably did, a hand on the arm, good work, Brad, or thank you, Brad, stronger clasp of his fingers, don’t, Brad, skin barely touching skin, these are the best maps I have, or here, have something to sustain that weapon and let’s pray it will work.
He can’t remember that want, his muscles shifting to reach out and connect the skin, visceral need and sloppy self-control. He can’t remember that heat, that pressure, it wasn’t there. He remembers the camaraderie, too easy and careless, and the attempts to keep himself in check.
Openings
There’s a chance they would still pass it off, file it with other what ifs and hell noes in their lives and move on. They could have been the only ones to know there was even a thought about it, the slightest idea.
But Brad gets transferred temporarily to Quantico and that changes things. Before, they could bullshit themselves that it would be more hassle than it’s worth, but now it’s either trying and making the best of it or running to the hills. And neither of them has ever run from a challenge.
And fuck, is the sex amazing.
Flames
It’s not the first time he has ever done this, but it’s the first time he wants it so much.
“Brad,” he whispers into his neck between kisses and bites. He inhales and exhales, and the heat is building up and up, and up. He wants everything.
Brad’s hand is there on the back of his neck, grounding him.
“I got you,” Brad says. “Right there.”
Nate’s thighs tremble when his fingers close on Brad’s dick, and Brad repeats his name over and over. There will be time to map out his body, slowly and thoroughly.
There will be time.
The morning
It’s difficult to calculate how often is not often enough to be suspicious. When a simple staying over can bring in the questions you aren’t able (or ready, for that matter) to answer.
It’s probably why every morning like this is so important. Roll over, there’s a warm body next to you. Touch and then touch some more, because you can. Make more coffee, don’t overdo the eggs. Actually sit down to eat breakfast. Maybe have sex in the kitchen, if you want.
And try to forget that sleeping alone is always more difficult after days like this. Nate tries.
Love
Nate thinks that there might have been a better way to do this, but who knows, maybe there wasn’t.
“I love you,” he says, standing next to Brad who’s doing dishes, and kisses his shoulder. Nate waits a long moment and feels Brad’s muscles tense under the black t-shirt, before Nate moves slightly away.
Brad’s staring at the coffee mug he was washing, before he puts it down and turns to Nate.
“I almost broke it, you know. And it’s my favorite,” he says, and his wet hands are on Nate’s neck, pulling him closer. “But I love you too.”
Confrontations
“One more tour and I’ll be able to walk away,” Brad says, and he looks as if it was nothing. Nate’s used to it, he knows it’s just how Brad deals, but it still pisses him off right now.
“Will you?” he tries for calm. He can do that too.
“Walk away? I don’t know.”
Nate nods. It’s not really surprising.
“I don’t know what it will be like after I come back, Nate.”
’It’ being you, me, or us?, Nate wants to ask, but doesn’t. He remembers what it’s like after the tour. Everything is different. Everything can happen.
Distance
It’s probably better they weren’t living together before. From Monday to Friday, Nate’s life doesn’t change much. He wakes up alone and he sleeps alone, he works a lot and he eats and exercises when he has the time. He may work a little too much now and he may run too far, but at least he’s usually too tired to dream.
The weekends are tougher, but he manages them too. He works, he runs, he goes to see his family a few times. His sisters look worried, but he tries to ignore them.
It works, most of the time.
Wakening
Nate hopes Brad will use the key. It’s stupid, maybe, but small things count, especially with Brad, and Nate wants him to use the key.
He wakes up to a hand coming up from his torso to the neck, pressure light but present. He opens his eyes and Brad’s there. In the warm light cast by the small lamp, kneeling next to the couch where Nate fell asleep, looking down on him. Larger than life, like always, and close, like too long ago. It’s all important, Nate knows.
“Hi, you,” he says quietly.
“Hi,” Brad says back and kisses him.
The horizon
They put all of the boxes into the empty room, Nate’s studio turned into Brad’s supposed bedroom, and Nate orders them pizza. It reminds him a little of college life, those first days and new beginnings, and bonding over unhealthy food.
They are both tired, so there’s no celebration and definitely no unpacking stuff. They eat pizza on the couch, drink beer, touch each other a lot. They’d done this many times before, but never with the knowledge that they can do that the next day and the day after that, and the one after that.
It’s different, starting now.
Generation Kill fic
pairing: Brad/Nate
rating: R
word count: 1017
disclaimer: This story is based on the fictionalized characters from the HBO miniseries Generation Kill. It's fiction, that's all.
summary: Every relationship is the junction of little things.
notes: Written for gk_remix challenge. The idea for this fic was inspired by this (thanks, eiirene!) and the titles of all drabbles are from this as well. The main title is from the song “Float On” by Modest Mouse, my prompt.
Thanks to idrilka for beta!
Metamorphosis
It takes them three years. Nate has to come back, leave the Corps, fight through the memories, sleepless nights, apathy and never agains, and go back to college, where he works hard and doesn’t lose sleep over anyone’s life. Brad has to come back, take a trip, drink some, exercise more, feel the water closing around him again and again, go to England, go back to Iraq, live through it again and come back home again.
It takes them three years to meet again under Mike’s roof and understand there’s still something from back then they haven’t dealt with yet.
Desires
Nate can’t remember touching Brad back then. He probably did, a hand on the arm, good work, Brad, or thank you, Brad, stronger clasp of his fingers, don’t, Brad, skin barely touching skin, these are the best maps I have, or here, have something to sustain that weapon and let’s pray it will work.
He can’t remember that want, his muscles shifting to reach out and connect the skin, visceral need and sloppy self-control. He can’t remember that heat, that pressure, it wasn’t there. He remembers the camaraderie, too easy and careless, and the attempts to keep himself in check.
Openings
There’s a chance they would still pass it off, file it with other what ifs and hell noes in their lives and move on. They could have been the only ones to know there was even a thought about it, the slightest idea.
But Brad gets transferred temporarily to Quantico and that changes things. Before, they could bullshit themselves that it would be more hassle than it’s worth, but now it’s either trying and making the best of it or running to the hills. And neither of them has ever run from a challenge.
And fuck, is the sex amazing.
Flames
It’s not the first time he has ever done this, but it’s the first time he wants it so much.
“Brad,” he whispers into his neck between kisses and bites. He inhales and exhales, and the heat is building up and up, and up. He wants everything.
Brad’s hand is there on the back of his neck, grounding him.
“I got you,” Brad says. “Right there.”
Nate’s thighs tremble when his fingers close on Brad’s dick, and Brad repeats his name over and over. There will be time to map out his body, slowly and thoroughly.
There will be time.
The morning
It’s difficult to calculate how often is not often enough to be suspicious. When a simple staying over can bring in the questions you aren’t able (or ready, for that matter) to answer.
It’s probably why every morning like this is so important. Roll over, there’s a warm body next to you. Touch and then touch some more, because you can. Make more coffee, don’t overdo the eggs. Actually sit down to eat breakfast. Maybe have sex in the kitchen, if you want.
And try to forget that sleeping alone is always more difficult after days like this. Nate tries.
Love
Nate thinks that there might have been a better way to do this, but who knows, maybe there wasn’t.
“I love you,” he says, standing next to Brad who’s doing dishes, and kisses his shoulder. Nate waits a long moment and feels Brad’s muscles tense under the black t-shirt, before Nate moves slightly away.
Brad’s staring at the coffee mug he was washing, before he puts it down and turns to Nate.
“I almost broke it, you know. And it’s my favorite,” he says, and his wet hands are on Nate’s neck, pulling him closer. “But I love you too.”
Confrontations
“One more tour and I’ll be able to walk away,” Brad says, and he looks as if it was nothing. Nate’s used to it, he knows it’s just how Brad deals, but it still pisses him off right now.
“Will you?” he tries for calm. He can do that too.
“Walk away? I don’t know.”
Nate nods. It’s not really surprising.
“I don’t know what it will be like after I come back, Nate.”
’It’ being you, me, or us?, Nate wants to ask, but doesn’t. He remembers what it’s like after the tour. Everything is different. Everything can happen.
Distance
It’s probably better they weren’t living together before. From Monday to Friday, Nate’s life doesn’t change much. He wakes up alone and he sleeps alone, he works a lot and he eats and exercises when he has the time. He may work a little too much now and he may run too far, but at least he’s usually too tired to dream.
The weekends are tougher, but he manages them too. He works, he runs, he goes to see his family a few times. His sisters look worried, but he tries to ignore them.
It works, most of the time.
Wakening
Nate hopes Brad will use the key. It’s stupid, maybe, but small things count, especially with Brad, and Nate wants him to use the key.
He wakes up to a hand coming up from his torso to the neck, pressure light but present. He opens his eyes and Brad’s there. In the warm light cast by the small lamp, kneeling next to the couch where Nate fell asleep, looking down on him. Larger than life, like always, and close, like too long ago. It’s all important, Nate knows.
“Hi, you,” he says quietly.
“Hi,” Brad says back and kisses him.
The horizon
They put all of the boxes into the empty room, Nate’s studio turned into Brad’s supposed bedroom, and Nate orders them pizza. It reminds him a little of college life, those first days and new beginnings, and bonding over unhealthy food.
They are both tired, so there’s no celebration and definitely no unpacking stuff. They eat pizza on the couch, drink beer, touch each other a lot. They’d done this many times before, but never with the knowledge that they can do that the next day and the day after that, and the one after that.
It’s different, starting now.