blue flamingos

Last Kiss: Nate/Brad

Fandom: Generation Kill

Category/Rated: Slash/PG

Year/Length: 2011/514 words

Pairing: Nate/Brad

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.


"Oh," Nate said. The door was heavy against his hand – fire door, Brad had said, because you just never knew. "I should have knocked." Though the door had been ajar, and he'd meant to surprise Brad, as much as anyone could ever surprise Brad.

The look on Brad's face said he'd succeeded too well.

"I can..." The woman – she was pretty, brown hair, brown eyes, like Brad's ex-fiancée. "Maybe I should give you a minute. I'll go make some tea."

Irish accent, Nate realized. Like the British, tea in a crisis. Maybe that's where Brad had met her, though he'd never mentioned it.

"It's fine," he said. "Clearly this is a bad time, I should have called ahead. I should go."

"You can stay," Brad said. "You should stay. Have tea, Anna's got scones."

He was smiling, inviting Nate to share the joke, and Nate couldn't figure out if he meant it, or if he was covering. He didn't want to imagine what his own face looked like.

"This isn't a good time," he said again. Anna had taken a couple of steps back when Nate first spoke, but she was still in Brad's space, or Brad was in hers. She frowned. "I'll call you later."

He didn't bother hurrying down Brad's front path, knowing that Brad would follow, and catch him. He'd never been able to outrun Brad. "You should have let me know you were coming," Brad said, catching up to him in the shadow of the garage. "I could have picked you up."

"And made sure you didn't have someone else staying over." Nate looked over to the ocean, ashamed of the words, even if they hadn't come out as bitter as they were in his head.

"Obviously," Brad agreed. "Look, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nate said, then, since that was obviously a lie, "I was surprised to see her. Surprised that she existed."

"Oh," Brad said, soft with realization. "We talked – we agreed. We live on opposite sides of the country, I'm an active duty marine, you were in my chain of command."

They had – talked and agreed. Though apparently they hadn't agreed on the same things Nate had thought they'd agreed on. "I understand. It was my mistake. I'm going to leave."

"Nate." Brad caught his arm, not tight enough to hold him if he tried to break away. He didn't, but he couldn't look at Brad. If that was all the hiding he was going to get, he'd take it. "Why didn't you say anything?"

The garage, the neighbor's fence, and incongruous tree on the corner of the yard combined to provide a small space where no-one could be well seen. Nate knew it well. He used Brad's hand on his arm for balance, pushed up until he could kiss Brad, show Brad everything he hadn't, before, everything he hadn't meant to agree to hide.

"That's why," he said when he pulled away, Brad's hand dropping from his arm.

Walk away and don't look back. Like he should have done when he left the marines.

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