fic: the problem with brad colbert
Title: the problem with brad colbert
Author: terebi_ko
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Summary: Brad's hiding under the car again.
It’s just like that day in Iraq all over again.
But instead of a Humvee, today Brad hid himself under his SUV. Ray knew something is wrong when he doesn’t see Brad in front of his computer. He went to the garage and there he is, Ray can see him from the waist down peeking out from under the SUV, loud banging and clanking reverberated the room.
“Seriously, homes? I can’t believe you’re still doing this.” Ray said from the door, a few feet away from the car. He leaned himself on the door frame with his arms folded in front of his chest. When Brad doesn’t answer (of course he won’t, he’s fucking sulking), he turns around and goes back to the living room.
Two hours later, Brad is still there. Ray would think he had choked on grease and died under there if it weren’t from the loud sound of metal on metal. “For fuck’s sake get out, Brad!” He yells from inside of the house. Brad doesn’t.
Another hour passed and still no sign of Brad inside the house, and Ray is back in the garage. “Homes,” He walked down the steps and into the garage, walks past Brad’s Yamaha R1 and stops right besides Brad’s foot. “Brad.” He says quitely. “Look man, I don’t know what happened but this isn’t Iraq anymore. You can always just talk to me even if it isn’t about me.”
Maybe it’s because of the change in Ray’s tone or something else, but the banging stops. Ray looks down and see that Brad went still, and then something came to Ray’s mind and he started to panic. “Oh fuck, homes. Is it me? Was it something I do?”
Brad wouldn’t answer him, but Ray won’t have a conversation where the other person is hiding under a car. “If this really is about me, then come out and fucking talk, Brad. I won’t have an argument where I can’t see your fucking face!” And he’s about to turn around and walk when he feels Brad’s hand circling his ankle. Brad’s thumb stroke the bones on the back of his feet, up to his calf. “Honestly, Brad..”
“No,” Brad cuts suddenly. “This isn’t about you.” His low voice seeps from under the car.
Ray sighs, partly because he’s relieved, and the other part because thank fucking God he finally speaks. “One hour. I give you one more hour. And if I don’t see you clean and sitting on that dining table by 7, I’m gonna go to Walt’s. Do you hear me?” Ray feels a soft grip on his ankle and then a soft reply, “Copy that.”
Brad lets go of Ray’s foot and goes back to whatever it is he’s doing down there, and Ray went back to the kitchen. “I mean it, Brad! One hour!” He yells as he went inside. “That’s enough time for my chicken to cook!”
And Brad suddenly forgot why he’s under there anyway.
Author: terebi_ko
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Summary: Brad's hiding under the car again.
It’s just like that day in Iraq all over again.
But instead of a Humvee, today Brad hid himself under his SUV. Ray knew something is wrong when he doesn’t see Brad in front of his computer. He went to the garage and there he is, Ray can see him from the waist down peeking out from under the SUV, loud banging and clanking reverberated the room.
“Seriously, homes? I can’t believe you’re still doing this.” Ray said from the door, a few feet away from the car. He leaned himself on the door frame with his arms folded in front of his chest. When Brad doesn’t answer (of course he won’t, he’s fucking sulking), he turns around and goes back to the living room.
Two hours later, Brad is still there. Ray would think he had choked on grease and died under there if it weren’t from the loud sound of metal on metal. “For fuck’s sake get out, Brad!” He yells from inside of the house. Brad doesn’t.
Another hour passed and still no sign of Brad inside the house, and Ray is back in the garage. “Homes,” He walked down the steps and into the garage, walks past Brad’s Yamaha R1 and stops right besides Brad’s foot. “Brad.” He says quitely. “Look man, I don’t know what happened but this isn’t Iraq anymore. You can always just talk to me even if it isn’t about me.”
Maybe it’s because of the change in Ray’s tone or something else, but the banging stops. Ray looks down and see that Brad went still, and then something came to Ray’s mind and he started to panic. “Oh fuck, homes. Is it me? Was it something I do?”
Brad wouldn’t answer him, but Ray won’t have a conversation where the other person is hiding under a car. “If this really is about me, then come out and fucking talk, Brad. I won’t have an argument where I can’t see your fucking face!” And he’s about to turn around and walk when he feels Brad’s hand circling his ankle. Brad’s thumb stroke the bones on the back of his feet, up to his calf. “Honestly, Brad..”
“No,” Brad cuts suddenly. “This isn’t about you.” His low voice seeps from under the car.
Ray sighs, partly because he’s relieved, and the other part because thank fucking God he finally speaks. “One hour. I give you one more hour. And if I don’t see you clean and sitting on that dining table by 7, I’m gonna go to Walt’s. Do you hear me?” Ray feels a soft grip on his ankle and then a soft reply, “Copy that.”
Brad lets go of Ray’s foot and goes back to whatever it is he’s doing down there, and Ray went back to the kitchen. “I mean it, Brad! One hour!” He yells as he went inside. “That’s enough time for my chicken to cook!”
And Brad suddenly forgot why he’s under there anyway.