words
Title: Words
Author: beanarie
Rating: PG
Universe: ATF
Characters: gen: Nathan, Ezra
Summary: A one and a half sided conversation.
The sun hadn't yet come out when Nathan got into the office. Rain was graduating from medical school that Friday, in Boulder, and he was saving his time off for the wedding. So he'd come in early that whole week to make up for the half day he'd be losing in the near future. Surprisingly, the bull pen wasn't quite as empty as he'd assumed it would be.
"Hell, Ezra," he whispered. A medium-sized knot of anxiety tied itself into existence.
People used to love to joke about Ezra's flowery speech, especially his tendency to fall in love with said flowery speech like Narcissus and his reflection. Around the office they used to trade ways of getting the man to shut up. One of the most successful methods had been to claim that JC Penney sold a suit that looked just like the one he was wearing. When played right, that one had been good for at least thirty seconds of speechless, appalled outrage. Nathan missed those days. They felt like so long ago.
"Hey," Nathan said quietly, entering the other man's cubicle. Why are you here so goddamn early? "You were going to call me after your appointment yesterday."
"Mornin'." One shoulder hitched up and down. "I, um, forgot." The gravel that often eroded his voice was on the lighter side for the moment. Now he sounded thick as if he'd just woken up. Soon he would sound harsher, like he'd smoked too many cigarettes (Truth be told he'd quit three months back, about five minutes after he was diagnosed. The rest of the team could barely stand to look at cigarettes any more. JD had taken to throwing out any packs people left lying around.). After that it would be more pained and raspy, like he'd just spent a lot of time screaming at the top of his lungs. Usually at that point he was hurting bad enough that he cut out talking when he didn't absolutely have to. Thank God for emails, Post-Its, and text messaging. Without them, he might have had to take a leave of absence from the job.
"So what did she say? Has it grown?"
A shake of the head didn't make the cloud behind Ezra's eyes go away.
"Standish, so help me, if you don't open that mouth in five seconds..."
As Ezra fiddled with the neckline of his sweater, he took in a deep breath as if preparing to speak. Then his jaw snapped shut.
"Ezra!"
"Surgery."
"Well." Nathan blinked. He dropped down into Ezra's second chair. "Well, okay then. Okay."
Ezra nodded, his face turned to the floor. Having shared his burden, he was allowed to be scared, at least for the thirty minutes or so they had until the other guys started showing up.
"This is a good thing, you know?"
Ezra rolled his eyes. It was the look a person gave when confronted with an idea that took up residence in the back of their mind but they couldn't bring themselves to believe. Once someone else brought it out in the open, they pretended it was obvious all along.
"It means that it's gotten small enough that it's not touching anything else and they can just snip it out on its own. Then one more round of radiation and maybe you could be free and clear."
Grunting quietly in acknowledgment, Ezra continued to lightly brush his thumb over the darkened circle of skin on the left side of his throat.
"Keep doing that, it'll never heal and Buck will still be calling you Spot when you're eighty."
In response Nathan expected either a sigh or another eye-roll. He got a slight shrug.
Swallowing his own sigh, Nathan stood. "Come on to the kitchen. Protein shakes for everybody." The question of whether he'd eaten or not was completely unnecessary, so Nathan didn't waste his breath.
He waited until Ezra passed him before he reached out. Nathan's big hand covered Ezra's tense shoulder and squeezed. Bringing them both to a stop, he gently shook the bag of bones in his grasp to reinforce the point he was about to make. "We will get through this."
The softly spoken "I know" was more than he'd hoped to get.
This was a sort of snippet of much longer story that I obsessed over and then abandoned nearly ten years ago. The other day I decided that Nathan shouldn't miss out on the chance to be awesome simply because I cannot handle stories with plot. Ergo, I wrote this!
Author: beanarie
Rating: PG
Universe: ATF
Characters: gen: Nathan, Ezra
Summary: A one and a half sided conversation.
The sun hadn't yet come out when Nathan got into the office. Rain was graduating from medical school that Friday, in Boulder, and he was saving his time off for the wedding. So he'd come in early that whole week to make up for the half day he'd be losing in the near future. Surprisingly, the bull pen wasn't quite as empty as he'd assumed it would be.
"Hell, Ezra," he whispered. A medium-sized knot of anxiety tied itself into existence.
People used to love to joke about Ezra's flowery speech, especially his tendency to fall in love with said flowery speech like Narcissus and his reflection. Around the office they used to trade ways of getting the man to shut up. One of the most successful methods had been to claim that JC Penney sold a suit that looked just like the one he was wearing. When played right, that one had been good for at least thirty seconds of speechless, appalled outrage. Nathan missed those days. They felt like so long ago.
"Hey," Nathan said quietly, entering the other man's cubicle. Why are you here so goddamn early? "You were going to call me after your appointment yesterday."
"Mornin'." One shoulder hitched up and down. "I, um, forgot." The gravel that often eroded his voice was on the lighter side for the moment. Now he sounded thick as if he'd just woken up. Soon he would sound harsher, like he'd smoked too many cigarettes (Truth be told he'd quit three months back, about five minutes after he was diagnosed. The rest of the team could barely stand to look at cigarettes any more. JD had taken to throwing out any packs people left lying around.). After that it would be more pained and raspy, like he'd just spent a lot of time screaming at the top of his lungs. Usually at that point he was hurting bad enough that he cut out talking when he didn't absolutely have to. Thank God for emails, Post-Its, and text messaging. Without them, he might have had to take a leave of absence from the job.
"So what did she say? Has it grown?"
A shake of the head didn't make the cloud behind Ezra's eyes go away.
"Standish, so help me, if you don't open that mouth in five seconds..."
As Ezra fiddled with the neckline of his sweater, he took in a deep breath as if preparing to speak. Then his jaw snapped shut.
"Ezra!"
"Surgery."
"Well." Nathan blinked. He dropped down into Ezra's second chair. "Well, okay then. Okay."
Ezra nodded, his face turned to the floor. Having shared his burden, he was allowed to be scared, at least for the thirty minutes or so they had until the other guys started showing up.
"This is a good thing, you know?"
Ezra rolled his eyes. It was the look a person gave when confronted with an idea that took up residence in the back of their mind but they couldn't bring themselves to believe. Once someone else brought it out in the open, they pretended it was obvious all along.
"It means that it's gotten small enough that it's not touching anything else and they can just snip it out on its own. Then one more round of radiation and maybe you could be free and clear."
Grunting quietly in acknowledgment, Ezra continued to lightly brush his thumb over the darkened circle of skin on the left side of his throat.
"Keep doing that, it'll never heal and Buck will still be calling you Spot when you're eighty."
In response Nathan expected either a sigh or another eye-roll. He got a slight shrug.
Swallowing his own sigh, Nathan stood. "Come on to the kitchen. Protein shakes for everybody." The question of whether he'd eaten or not was completely unnecessary, so Nathan didn't waste his breath.
He waited until Ezra passed him before he reached out. Nathan's big hand covered Ezra's tense shoulder and squeezed. Bringing them both to a stop, he gently shook the bag of bones in his grasp to reinforce the point he was about to make. "We will get through this."
The softly spoken "I know" was more than he'd hoped to get.
This was a sort of snippet of much longer story that I obsessed over and then abandoned nearly ten years ago. The other day I decided that Nathan shouldn't miss out on the chance to be awesome simply because I cannot handle stories with plot. Ergo, I wrote this!