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Brad sits on the edge of the picnic table, sipping his first beer of the afternoon, content to hang back and let the younger guys attempt to impress their wives, girlfriends and/or children. He scans the crowd, a little surprised and strangely pleased at how many of their battalion have managed to make it to this park in the middle of fucking nowhere that Mike Wynn managed to find. Most of A Company opted out, though Brad’s pretty sure he saw Bryan Patterson when he first arrived. Kocher’s finally back from fucking around Iraq and tempting fate again, and Brad can see him standing with Poke and Pappy, all of them watching the kids, led by Ray, in some massive chase through the trees. Brad knows most everyone by sight, pictures from email and Facebook and the few times he’s dropped into their lives when he happened to be in town.
He takes another drink and waves to Trombley’s wife, who blushes like a virgin before she waves back. Brad smirks and looks around again, his eyes scanning the terrain. There are just a couple of them still active duty, but no one looks completely gone to seed, though he’s relatively certain there won’t be any sprints – friendly or otherwise.
“Hey, Sarge.” Q-Tip tosses Brad another beer. “You see the Cap?” Brad feels his muscles react, stomach tightening with anticipation. They’ve all worked under plenty of Lieutenants and Captains, but here it means only one thing, one person. “Should see him, homes. He’s got one good looking girl with him.”
The heat in Brad’s stomach cools and sours and he takes another drink to wash it down, try to wash it away. “Really?”
“Yeah, man. If she weren’t the Cap’s girl, I might have to try for her.”
Brad raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Stafford, there isn’t any way in hell you could score any female Nate’s had contact with. Human or otherwise.”
“Now that just hurts me, Sarge.”
“Not as bad as I could hurt you.”
“Fair enough. You want me to send the Cap your way if I see him again?”
“I imagine I can find him on my own.”
“Yo.” He sketches a salute, heading over to Manimal and his two kids. Brad drains his beer and tosses the bottle toward the recycling bin, wiping his damp hands on his khaki shorts. He angles off the table and heads toward Kocher and Espera, telling himself it’s just time to socialize; it’s got nothing to do with the desire not to be alone with Nate and whatever woman he’s decided to introduce to them.
“Bradley!” Ray dodges two toddlers and leaps over an amazingly ugly Pit Bull. “Dude, you’ve emerged from the forest of contemplation. Have you solved the world’s problems yet?”
“No, but yours will clear up with a course of Penicillin.”
“You are aware this is actually a party, right? I mean, they did put that on your invitation, didn’t they? Beer? Food? Fun?”
“I see you’ve found your people.” Brad nods as Ray’s three-year-old daughter grabs Ray’s leg. “Is it tough being smarter than your daddy, Tina?” The small blonde blinks up at Brad with all the solemnity of her age and then runs off, chasing after the Pit Bull. “She’s smart and she’s quiet, Person. You sure she’s yours?”
“There’s no one else as good looking as me around town. As cute as she is? She has to be mine.” Ray scratches his ass and squints through a pair of sunglasses Brad suspects used to belong to Elton John. “Dude. I saw Dirty Earl’s wife. I think I fucked her in Tijuana once.”
“No, that was a burro.” Brad keeps looking around, nodding as he meets gazes, not spotting Nate at all and, to be honest, starting to get a little irritated, at least until he hears Nate’s laugh, a sound he hasn’t heard often enough but recognizes instantly.
“Holy shit. That’s new.” Ray whistles, his gaze wide and surprised, locked in the direction of Nate’s laugh. “Did you know about that?” Ray’s voice sounds betrayed, and Brad doesn’t have any choice but to turn around.
Nate’s in a circle of women, and Brad scans their faces, surprised to recognize them all. He saves Nate for last, so busy savoring each second of taking him in that it takes embarrassingly long to see the little girl he’s holding. “That’s a baby.”
“Toddler, dog.” Poke claps a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Year. Year and a half, I’d guess.”
“Since when the fuck does the Captain have a kid?” Ray glares in the general direction of the girl in Nate’s arms. “I’m the fucking social coordinator, and I didn’t know, so why the fuck are we just finding out? Did you know about this?” He turns his accusing gaze on Brad. “Fuck, Iceman.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Bullshit. This is Fick. Fick tells you shit.”
“Not this.” Brad exhales a slow, cautious breath. “Maybe he told Mike.” Nate looks up from the little girl and meets Brad’s eyes. He lifts a hand to wave and the girl reaches for it, grasping Nate’s wrist. “Okay. So. We should go say hello.” Brad’s vaguely aware that Espera’s hand is still on his shoulder, and he thinks he’s grateful. Nate has a kid, which knowing Nate, means Nate has a wife, which means Brad’s going to need something a lot stronger than beer and a much better porn selection than he has on hand to make it through the weekend.
“Hello? Fuck that. More like, ‘what the fucking fuck, sir’.” Ray kicks at a rock buried in the grass. “How can Captain Fick have a kid? Shit, everybody knows you and he…”
Ray miraculously stops talking before Brad opens his mouth, but that doesn’t actually stop Brad from telling him to shut up. “None of us knows anything about the Captain, so there sure as fuck isn’t anything everybody knows.” He strides forward and smiles at Nate, trying not to listen to Ray’s comments on people leaving Brad for other people. Nate makes his way through the circle of women, the little girl resting easily on his hip.
“Brad.” Nate’s smile hits Brad hard in the gut, but he manages to return it. “Rudy said he didn’t think you were going to make it this year. I mean, I got your email, but…I mean, the last I heard, you were in Burma.”
“Surprise.” Brad drops his gaze to the little girl without meaning to. He wants to memorize Nate one last time. Instead, he ends up seeing Nate’s eyes staring back at him from under a mop of strawberry blonde curls, the familiar curve of Nate’s lip thinner, but still recognizable. “Seems I’m not the only one with a surprise.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Nate smiles at the little girl then back at Brad. “Brad, this is Valerie.”
“Valerie.” Brad nods. “Cute kid.”
“I think so, but then, I guess I’m biased.”
“Yeah.” There's a distinct difference between the silence of not knowing what to say and every other kind, but thankfully Ray’s there to break it.
“Did you ask him where the fuck he got a kid?” Ray’s directly behind Brad, and the implication of him at Brad’s six isn’t lost on any of them.
“I really doubting Tina’s parentage now if you don’t even know where babies come from, Person.”
“Fuck that, Brad. Ask any teenage parent. You don’t have to know where they come from to have one. Fuck, not knowing actually helps, which is why, considering he’s a fucking Harvard graduate, I want to know how Captain Fick has one.”
“You know, Ray, you can call me Nate now.” Nate’s not even bothering to hide his smile.
“Actually, sir, there’s no way in hell I can do that.”
Nate blows out a sigh and looks at Brad. “I thought he had no respect for command.”
“That’s because command is fucked,” Ray informs him. “You aren’t. Or, well, I guess you are, since, you know, kid. Seriously though, how the fuck did you end up with a kid?”
“Jesus, Ray.” Brad’s voice is cool and flat despite the potential heat of his words. “He did it the way you do it. He fucked some girl. Don’t make Walt go get the slides they have to show the Army fucks so they don’t fucking populate every third world country they invade.”
“Actually, that’s not quite…” Nate shrugs. “I think you guys…”
“Dude.” Ray wraps a consoling arm around Nate’s shoulder. “There’s no shame if your guys aren’t able to swim. I mean, lots of guys have that issue.”
“No. Ray.” Nate shrugs off Ray’s arm. “My guys swim just fine.” He looks away from Ray to meet Brad’s gaze again. “Meet Valerie Benson. My niece.”
“Niece.”
Nate nods and offers Brad a small smile. “My sister lives about an hour from here. I’m giving her and her husband the afternoon off.”
“Ha! See, Brad!” Ray slaps Brad on the back. “I told you not to be such a pussy faggot. Nate’s not turning into some nuclear family shithead.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ray.” Brad’s chest loosens slightly and he nods toward the table he’d been at before. “I’ve staked out some space.”
“I should probably make the rounds. You want to take her and our stuff?”
“Sure.” Brad snags the diaper bag from Nate’s shoulder and slings it onto his, hand settling on it as if it were the butt of a rifle. He looks at Valerie seriously. “C’mere, kid.”
Valerie regards him then opens her arms and leans toward him. Brad takes her without another word and walks over to the picnic table. He looks back to see Nate watching them, the smile curving his lips making Brad seriously consider baby-making activities. “So, Valerie. Your Uncle Nate’s a little shit.” He sets her bag on the table and settles her more firmly on his hip. “I’m going to have to come up with some sort of suitable punishment for him.”
“Doggie!”
“No, that’s Garza.” Brad walks down the slope to where the other kids are gathered, sitting on the bench beside the huge sandbox where they’re playing. He sets Valerie down on the ground, watching her test her depth perception by trying to grab a flower.
“Brad!” Poke’s two girls launch a combined strike, hitting him on both sides. He lets both of them climb on him, only protesting when Daisy starts putting dandelions in his hair. He scoops Valerie from where she’s gripping the bench between his legs in an effort to stay on her feet, and carries her over to the sand. The rest of the kids slowly gravitate toward him, and he makes up games for the younger kids and challenges for the older ones.
He doesn’t realize he has an audience until Valerie clamors over his leg and crawls over the intricate labyrinth of berms he’s created to get to Nate. Nate’s sitting on the wooden edge of the pit, and he settles Valerie in his lap with a sippy cup. “What’s the matter, Colbert? You get tired of not having sand in uncomfortable places?”
“Something like that.”
Nate holds out a cup. “Drink?”
“What is it?” Brad’s nose wrinkles at the sweet scent.
“Black cherry Kool-Aid.” Nate takes a drink when Brad shakes his head. As he sets the cup down, he licks his lips, both his tongue and lips painted in red. Brad looks away, forcing his gaze down to Valerie, who is nodding off, fighting it by furiously sucking at her cup in quick bursts that fade as sleep threatens.
“Should get her in the shade.” Brad gets to his feet, dusting sand off his shorts. He takes Valerie from Nate’s arms, waiting for Nate to grab his cup. They fall into step easily, and Brad can feel the graze of Nate’s fingers against his thigh as he swings his arm. “You have her all night?”
“No. They’re going to pick her up here about five.” Nate unfolds a blanket from the diaper bag and spreads it on the ground. “She likes you.”
“Well, she obviously has crappy taste in men. Tell her mom to work on that.” Brad lays her down, watching as she kicks her legs, searching for his warmth before curling in on herself. Brad sinks his teeth into his tongue, chewing the edge of it for a few minutes. “She looks like a Fick.”
“She’s half of one.”
“Not the half I thought.”
“Do you really think that, given the way we left things the last time we saw each other, I’d run off and have a kid? And not tell you?”
“We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“I rarely go from horny and hard enough to hammer nails because of my ex-TL to impregnating women, especially as quickly as would have been necessary.”
“Sometimes people feel the need to reassert their heterosexuality after their first…”
“What makes you think it was my first time?” Nate takes another drink of his Kool-Aid and licks his lips again, leaving them dark and wet. Brad sits down on the edge of the picnic table bench and looks at Nate, grabbing for a beer without really looking. Nate smiles and pushes one into his hand. “You okay there, Brad?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Nate laughs softly, his fingers trailing over the back of Brad’s hand. “It was, but don’t be so cocky, Colbert.”
“That I can’t help, sir. As you well know.” Brad smirks back at him and takes a long drink of his beer. “Been two and a half years.”
“I know.”
“Did I scare you that badly, sir?”
Nate frowns at his Kool-Aid then dumps it out in the grass, reaching for one of the beers in the cooler. “No. Yes. I was…unnerved. Six foot four of the Iceman bearing down on me, intent on…a lot of things that I wasn’t sure I was ready for, that I wanted…it was a lot of process.” He shakes his head as Brad’s face goes dangerously blank. “I wanted you, Brad. I just didn’t…know if I was ready for what that meant.”
“You telling me the liberal dick-sucks at Harvard don’t actually suck dick, sir?”
“I wouldn’t know. They assumed I was a warmonger from the get-go.” He manages a smile and touches the worn metal of Brad’s watch. “You got my emails.”
“Yeah.” There’s a tightness that Brad can’t fight past, an ache in his chest. Nate had backed away with excuses of being too drunk, of wanting something more than slurred fumbling, drunken hand jobs and a morning of hangovers and regrets, and then he’d effectively disappeared from Brad’s life, keeping in touch through email and phone messages. “So is that why you came? You figured it was safe because I was in Burma?”
“No.”
“And she was just another layer of protection, huh? Why even tell me the truth, Nate? Why not let me think that you’d knocked someone up and settled down to make your two-point-five little Ficks?” Brad doesn’t move his hand away, won’t let himself. He went through far worse torture just to become the man he is. Backing down from Nate Fick isn’t something he’ll ever do. “Why not just say no, sir?”
“I don’t want to say no, Brad.”
“But you did. You said no, Nate. So something’s changed, right?” Something dark flares in Brad’s chest and it takes all his willpower to keep from jerking his hand back. “Who else have you said yes to?”
“What?” Nate’s eyes widen, shocked green and bright white, so different than the dark circles and red-rimmed ones Brad’s used to. “Brad, no.”
Wynn’s voice echoes through the park and Brad pulls away from Nate, snagging his beer. “I’ll be back. I have to go help Gunny with the grills.” Brad shoves off away from the table and makes his way down toward the cooking pit, ignoring everyone’s friendly shouts until he sees Stafford, smirking at him with his stupid fucked whiskey tango inbred smirk. “What?”
“See you met the Captain’s lady, Sergeant.” Brad doesn’t move, just nails him with his glare and Stafford’s smile fades, dying off like melting wax in the afternoon heat. “Just a joke, sir. That’s all, yo. Just a joke.”
**
Ray slams his plate down next to Brad’s and sits down at the table, reaching across and stealing Nate’s beer. “I was going to get a beer at my table, but it’s like fucking artic cold over here, so I thought I’d snag one of yours. And, I mean, I’m just a dad and all, so what do I know, but that little girl’s just in a sundress, and you guys keep this up, she’s dying of hypothermia.”
“Go the fuck away, Person.” Brad growls.
“I’m not feeling the love here. You either, LT?” Ray casts a pointed glance at Nate as he downs half of his beer. “Of course, I was feeling the love before you showed up, so I’m thinking that maybe our good buddy Brad here is reacting to something you did or said. Let’s see if I can figure it out.”
“Go the fuck away, Ray.”
“You show up with a kid and no one knows that you have a kid, but you don’t actually have a kid, but you psych us the fuck out. Us, of course, being Brad, who has a, shall we say, vested fucking interest in where you might be sticking your dick.”
“Ray.” Brad’s voice is flat and cold, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Please, Brad. You think there isn’t a man here who doesn’t know you want to dip your stick in the Captain’s oil pan? You think any of us fucking care? If you think you two hid a goddamned thing from a bunch of highly fucking trained Recon fucking Marines for forty days in fucking theater, then you are stupider than Garza’s half-breed wife.” Ray rolls his eyes and finishes off the beer. “Hell, the fucking wives are all pissing and moaning about what a fucking waste it is that you two are so obviously hot for each other. And, I can’t be completely sure, but if you have any interest in gay porn, I think we could have a pretty fucking lucrative deal.”
“Ray.” Nate sighs softly. “Please, shut up.”
“What the fuck are you thinking, Captain?” Whatever venom Ray’s voice lost is back now, sharp and cutting. “You fucking take off after the last meet-up in the middle of the fucking night and you expect him to be okay? Jesus, Fick. You’re not a fucking retard. You’re a fucking Ivy League think tank genius. You fucking left him, you stupid fuck.”
“Ray.” Brad gets up from the table, silencing Ray with a glance. “Stop helping.”
“Did you even think about what you were doing? Did you even think that maybe he’d react badly to that? Did you even think, Captain? Or did you just think too fucking much about everything but Brad. We call him the Iceman, but you know better than anyone how much of a fucking lie it is.”
“Ray.” Brad grabs him by the shirt and lifts him off the bench, off the ground. Ray goes silent, his face flushing with blood. “Shut up.” Brad shoves Ray back, turning on his heel and walking off. He can feel eyes on him, as if his back is painted with red laser lights as he heads into the trees. Ray’s voice follows him, but Brad keeps walking, needing space, needing air, needing something.
There’s nothing concealed about Nate’s approach, and Brad’s not actually hiding. He’s just staring up at the pale underside of the leaves overhead, feeling the rough bark beneath his shirt.
“Well, so much for don’t ask, don’t tell, huh?” Nate sighs and leans against a tree opposite Brad, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t aware we were that obvious.”
“That obvious has a whole different meaning around a group of Recon Marines.” Brad runs his tongue over his teeth and then looks at Nate. “Did you think about it? When you offered to baby-sit? Did you think that I might be here and take it wrong?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Brad. I was…It came out of nowhere last time, Brad. We were in a bar, talking about the women and then we were walking home and we were making out up against the wall outside my room, your hand down my pants and talking about fucking me through the mattress. There was a little bit of a disconnect.”
“You wanted it.”
“I wanted you, Brad. I’ve wanted you since the first goddamned day I saw you, half-naked and covered in motor oil and sand, wreaking holy hell on Ray and Trombley on the way from the motor pool to your tent.”
“Then why…”
“Because I didn’t want to be the guy you fucked because you were horny and didn’t want to pick up the local flavor. It means everything to me that you respect me as a man and as a Marine and, once, as your commanding officer. There was no fucking way I could give that up for…for what, as far as I could tell, was a quick fuck in some cheap motel.”
“Fuck, Nate. You could never be that.”
“Well, I was too sober to take the risk. And after that it just got harder and harder. How do you bring it up in casual conversation? How do you put it in a post card or a letter or an email. ‘So I’ve realized that I’m in love with you and I kind of want to risk both our careers, not to mention, quite possibly, your life, and take you up on the offer of fucking me into the mattress, but only if you want to do it on some sort of permanent basis’? And how do you say it at all when, for all you know, the person you want to say it to was just looking for an easy lay.”
“Sir,” Brad clears his throat, carefully and deliberately, “there is nothing easy about you.”
“I think that’s true of both of us.” Nate takes a tentative step forward. “I spent the last two years trying to live without you. I didn’t mean to call or write or…but…I had to. I can’t walk away from you, Brad. Not completely.”
Brad sighs softly, blowing out air as if he’s firing on the exhale. “Well, given that everyone we know, respect and trust with our lives knows we’re flying fucking pink triangle flags, I don’t actually see why you have to walk away at all. Unless you want to.”
“It doesn’t change things.”
Brad’s jaw clicks as he snaps his teeth together, bowing his head in one quick nod. “No one’s keeping you here, Nate.”
Nate takes another step forward, close enough now that Brad can feel the heat of his body. The rest of the group is somewhere in the distance, pretending they’re not on the outskirts of everything falling apart. “I’ve left my niece, whom I love, with Ray Person to follow you. Is that worth anything?”
“I don’t know. I kept hoping you’d be here. That I could see you and just be fine with it. Not care that you’d fucking taken off in the middle of the night rather than risk me hitting on you again. I was kind of hoping you were out of my system, sir. To be honest.”
“I see.” Nate nods, his hands balling into fists in his pockets. “And is that the case?”
“If that was the case, do you think we’d be having this conversation?”
“Given that we both know Ray and he’s likely to misinterpret or misunderstand anything of even minor significance in a way that would create some sort of debacle? Yes.” Nate smiles slightly, his lips still red from the Kool-Aid. “I’ve missed you, Brad. Missed that easy camaraderie that we had, missed being able to talk to you about anything. I know I fucked up.”
“Yeah. You did. You acted like a fucking officer.”
Nate laughs and ducks his head. “Guilty as charged.”
Brad blows out a long breath and braces his foot against the tree, his own hands deep in his pockets. “You’d better get back to your niece before Ray teaches her to say things your sister’s going to kick your ass for or, worse, before someone dresses her up like a Saturday night special and marries her off to Chaffin.”
“Yeah.” Nate’s brow furrows and Brad watches the emotions play across his face, watches the arguments rise up and fail to go anywhere. “You’re not taking off or anything, are you?”
“Me?” Brad smiles, feeling the feral bite of his teeth against his lips. “Oh, no. We’ve got a paintball fight after dark and I’ve got some payback owed to me.”
**
When they come back to the picnic, everyone’s gone back to eating, not paying much attention to them at all. Nate sits down on the blanket next to Valerie, draping his arms over his knees and watching the rest of the group. Brad sits not far from him, the silence closer to companionable than previously, but still not quite settled.
Pappy tosses a Frisbee up toward them and Brad catches it, moving down to get a game going. Wives and kids join in as well and pretty soon there are at least five discs flying around the park, dogs barking and children’s laughter mingling with the shouts and calls of incoming throws. After a while, Brad sinks down on the blanket next to Nate, sprawling across the foot of it. Valerie stands up shakily then walks toward him, collapsing across his back.
Nate turns, laying on his stomach, catching her feet as she wiggles against Brad. “I think she has a crush, Sergeant.”
“No accounting for taste.” Brad glances back over his shoulder at her and then carefully turns so that he’s on his back and she’s on his stomach. She looks up from the grass in surprise and smiles a toothless grin at him. He smiles back and she giggles, grabbing a handful of his shirt.
“Nate!”
Brad and Nate both look up and Nate puts his hand over his eyes to shade them from the fading sun. He sits up, waving and then gets to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. Brad sits up as well, angling Valerie back down onto his lap and turning so he can see Nate’s sister approach. She looks like Nate in a lot of ways, but there’s something different about her. He thinks it’s the layer of softness Nate’s family’s standing earns them, something that Nate’s subjugated with his own passions and desires, or maybe he never had it.
“Hey.” Nate leans in and kisses his sister’s cheek, blushing as she looks baldly at Brad.
“Is this him?”
“Diane.”
“I’m just curious. Is it?”
Nate sighs and rolls his eyes. “Brad, this is my sister, Diane. Diane, this is Sergeant Brad Colbert, one of my team leaders from Iraq.”
“Ha. I knew it was him.” She looks Brad over slowly and intently, sizing him up. He just sits there, smirking and glancing up at Nate, bouncing Valerie on his knee. “I didn’t like you very much for a while.”
“Is that so?”
“Nate was kind of a mess.”
“Diane!” Nate glares at her, which makes Brad smile even wider. “Shut up and take your kid.”
“You’re not going to mess with him again, are you?”
“I wasn’t aware I messed with him in the first place.” Brad tilts his head. “Did I mess with you, Nate?”
“You’ve made a habit of messing with me since I first met you at Mathilda, and you know it.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Nate.” Diane kicks the sole of Brad’s shoe. “I don’t want to have to deal with him like I did the last time he ran into you.”
“Diane. Shut up.”
“So you do know how I feel about Ray.” Brad levels his gaze on Diane. “I can assure you that I had no intention of upsetting Nate the last time I saw him and I have nothing but the utmost regret that he left our encounter with anything but a smile on his face.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Well,” she’s still frowning, but seems moderately placated. “He’s the only brother I’ve got, so be nice to him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods and reaches for Valerie who curls in closer to Brad. “He did tell you she’s his niece, right?”
“Diane!” Nate flushes.
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to use her as some sort of decoy just so you could pretend nothing was wrong. You suck at pretending nothing’s wrong, by the way, because your face gives you away every time, but you still try to do it, and I know you thought about it, so don’t even try to lie.”
“Seriously, if she weren’t married and above average intelligence, we could hook her up with Ray and annoy the entire free world.” Brad can’t help grinning at Nate’s obvious discomfort, not to mention the hint of irritation flashing in Diane’s eyes, the suspicion that she knows he’s flipping her just as much shit as he’s throwing Nate. “Force Ray to re-enlist and we could have them annoy the rest of the globe too.”
“Diane, just take your daughter, thank me for giving you an afternoon off and head home.” Nate grabs the diaper bag and starts stuffing a few scattered things into it.
“Are you afraid I’m going to say something embarrassing to Brad, Nate?”
“You mean you don’t think you already have?” Nate gives her an incredulous look and Brad bites back a laugh and dodges the kick Nate sends his way. He hands Diane the bag and then reaches for Valerie, his eyes daring Brad to say something. Brad hands her over without comment, pressing his lips together. “Say goodbye, Diane.”
She takes Valerie and leans in and kisses Nate’s cheek. “Have fun. Be careful.”
“You know, I am a trained Marine, right?”
“Yeah,” Diane smirks at him then turns a dangerous smile on Brad. “But then, so is he.”
**
Nate walks Diane to her car, and then starts making a round of the rest of the guys, spending time with anyone but Brad. Brad moves away from their table, putting in his time with the women, waving off their good-natured advice and dating offers as he keeps an eye on Nate, waiting for some of the awkwardness between them to dissipate. After a while their eyes meet and Nate raises his hand in a wave. Brad nods, grinning and relaxing in earnest.
Night falls slowly, the sun struggling, refusing to give up until it goes from golden to pitch black, stars too far distant to make much of an impression. There’s a bonfire going and the air is full of the smell of marshmallows and melted chocolate. Nate’s talking to Mike’s wife, laughing with her and eating a s’more in ways that Brad is relatively certain are illegal in half of the continental US. Wives and girlfriends and kids are slowly drifting toward the cars, admonishing the men to be careful. Eventually they’re all gone, and the men fade away from the flames, covering up shorts and t-shirts, sunscreen and sweat with dark jeans or coveralls, black grease paint leaving only wide bright smiles and the whites of their eyes standing out in the shadows.
Rudy plays staff sergeant, passing out the paint ball rifles and ammo as Wynn divides them up into teams. Brad’s not surprised to wind up with Ray, and he smirks slightly at the snickers. Ray’s reputation of never shutting up always makes everyone forget he’s a fucking Recon Marine. He nods to Ray and they move out, fading into the darkness.
They move in unison, Ray walking in Brad’s footsteps. There’s an unnatural hush to the night until the wildlife forgets they’re there invading their territory. Brad signals to Ray and they slip into a copse of bushes, watching in silence as the ghost outline of several other teams move in and out of the trees. Brad counts off heartbeats and then gives the faintest of nods, and the thick ‘whoosh’ of air is the only hint of their presence before the neon pink explodes against black. Brad nods again as their first shots leave the rifles and they’re on the move, firing again in the uproar and confusion.
They move through the terrain in no discernable pattern, listening as names come from the command base. Ray smirks at some of the names, his eyebrows eloquent as currently enlisted men are tagged out. Brad ignores him and keeps moving, not looking back as Ray breaks his silence with a loud ‘oof’ followed by an even louder ‘fuck!’. Brad tags Poke from behind on his way into the deeper wood, taking cover in Ray’s chorus of stomping and cursing as it’s joined by Poke’s own litany of oppression.
“Pussies,” Brad whispers softly, watching as Stafford turns in increments, his outline nearly lost in the darkness. Q-tip’s head cocks to the side, and Brad has to admire his skill for a moment before he sights and fires. He moves in swiftly, disarming and silencing Stafford before he has a chance to make a sound. Q-tip’s eyes go wide when he sees Brad, and he starts to struggle, moving ineffectually against the zip ties Brad secures around his wrists and ankles before he hefts Stafford over his shoulder and heads out of the woods.
**
Wynn frowns at the paint-splattered crowd, only three men still in pristine black. “None of you saw Stafford?”
Kocher, Nate and Brad all shrug, as does the rest of the group, all of them stripping out of their stained coveralls. Christeson shakes his head. “I got tagged out early by Rudy.”
“Hoooooooooooooly shit!” Ray’s voice is pitched with pure delight as he comes running down the hill from the parking lot and bathrooms.
“No one cares if you saw Jesus in your crap, Person,” Baptista calls out. “Call the fucking Weekly World News.”
“Trust me, this fucking trumps Mary fucking Magdalene in a Honeybucket. Get the shit up here.”
They all fall in, Nate giving Brad a questioning look that turns sharply speculative when Brad returns the look blankly. “You know anything about what’s over the crest of this hill, Sergeant?”
“A bunch of tricked out cars that scream ‘who’s compensating more – the government that paid for them or the small dick wonders driving them’?”
“Says the guy with the custom bike that violates speed and noise ordinances in all 50 states?”
“The difference being, sir, that I know exactly how big my dick is.” Brad reminds him, eyebrow arched.
“Ah.” Nate starts to say something else when the first wave of laughter rolls back to them, he turns from Brad to the parking lot and stops. “That…”
“Huh.” Brad smiles dryly. “Looks like we found Stafford.”
Everyone gathers at the base of the flagpole, staring up at Stafford hanging from the flag line, naked except for a few bright splotches of neon paint. Ray’s eyes are wet from laughing. “Who the fuck knew we called him Q-tip because it’s small and fuzzy at both ends?”
“Fuck, boy.” Wynn directs Rudy, Pappy and Christeson over to help Stafford down. “Who the hell did you piss off?”
Nate bends his head toward Brad. “Do you think anyone’s going to answer that?”
Brad turns his head, bowing it slightly so there’s hardly any space between them. His fingers ghost faintly across the small of Nate’s back, disappearing as Brad shrugs. “He insulted your niece, sir. Have to say you’d be my thought for the guilty party.”
“Would I?” Nate laughs softly, moving another step closer to Brad. His hand barely grazes Brad’s thigh, but just the suggestion of it catches the breath in Brad’s chest. “So I’m your prime suspect?”
“Mmm.” The sound purrs in Brad’s throat and he can’t help his smile as Nate’s eyes threaten to close.
Nate’s voice drops and Brad inches closer to hear him. “Does that mean I’m due an interrogation?”
Brad’s teeth grind together and he swipes a hand over his mouth and chin. A quick look around shows no one paying them any attention, but he nods back down toward the picnic side where a few of the guys have already started gathering up trash and clearing away all signs of their presence. He steers Nate back to the table with their stuff on it, sitting on the tabletop.
Nate sits next to him, crowding close like Brad’s space is his own personal Iraqi invasion. Brad gives him a warning glance then blows out a breath as Nate ignores him.
“Think you’re pretty fucking cute, do you, sir?”
“I have it on good authority from most of the wives, both my sisters and my great-aunt Martha that I actually am cute. No thinking required.”
“And you think I’m a sucker for a pair of green eyes and Kool-Aid stained lips?”
Nate sucks his lower lip into his mouth and glances up at Brad. “No. I don’t think you’re that easy.”
“Then you pretty much know fuck-all about me, sir.” Brad huffs a thick breath. “I gave up on you, Nate.”
“I know.”
“And now you want…what?”
“Would it be fair to say I don’t know?”
“Not even fucking remotely.” Brad leans back on his hands, staring up at the sky. “Fortunately for you, I’m a Marine, so I’m used to unfair.”
Nate is quiet for a long time. “I came here to see you. When I got the email that you’d probably be here…Maybe…no. No, you’re right. Fuck. Ray’s right. Valerie was protection, either to keep you away in case I’d fucked everything up irreparably or to hide behind if you were here with someone.”
“I take it your sister didn’t approve?”
“How’d you get that? From the way that she reacted? As if I’d tried to deceived you into thinking Valerie was mine, you’d have to assume I’d picked up incest as a hobby from hanging around with Chaffin?”
“Might have been a clue.” Brad sits up and rubs his hands on his thighs. “I’m not going to lie to you, Nate. I’m not some fucking saint who’s been singing ‘Kumbayah’ and the joys of abstinence like some fucking eunuch over the past two years.” He frowns at his hands then turns to look at Nate.
“I can’t even imagine that.”
“I haven’t been pining.”
“And I can only assume you’d shoot anyone who suggested otherwise.” Nate sighs and lays back on the table.
Brad turns his head slightly to look at him, frowning just a bit. “This isn’t a joke, Nate.”
“I know.” Nate’s fingers graze Brad’s hip. “I also know that I fucked up and the thought that you might forgive me for being such an asshole has me kind of fucking giddy.”
Brad’s eyebrow goes up. “Giddy?”
“As a fucking schoolgirl.” Nate smiles up at him, his hand moving higher, fingers spreading out against Brad’s t-shirt. His thumb slides back and forth slowly. “I want you, Brad. Wanted you then. Want you now. I don’t care if you’ve fucked the entire eastern seaboard.”
“Really?” Brad smirks, disbelief thick in his voice buried beneath the spark of possibility, of hope. “You think you could wait here while I finish that up?”
“Sorry, pre-existing condition only.” Nate’s voice grows softer as his fingers slide more boldly over Brad.
“Damn. Missed my chance.” He shifts, lying on the table and propping himself up on his elbow. He reaches out, his palm grazing across Nate’s flat stomach, the worn material of his Harvard shirt as thin as paper. “I went too fast.”
“Like your bike. Zero to one-twenty before I could breathe.”
“I scared you off.”
“I’m just not used to my fantasies coming true in backwater Missouri.” Nate’s hand falters in the air between them for a moment then he touches the curve of Brad’s jaw. “I wasn’t prepared to handle it, whether you were serious or just fucking around.”
“Civilian life’s made you soft.”
“Soft isn’t an issue when you’re around, Colbert.” Nate’s thumb slides along Brad’s lower lip. “I’m no saint either.”
“Choir boy looks not withstanding.” Brad manages a smile despite the hot flare of jealousy that burns in his lungs.
Nate shakes his head slightly. “But there’s never been another…” He flushes, the blush visible even in the darkness. “Some things I only trust to my team leader.”
“You want me to get Lovell or Pappy over here, sir?” Brad’s teeth scrape at the pad of Nate’s thumb. “Maybe Espera?”
“Brad.” Nate pushes his thumb into Brad’s mouth and Brad shuts up, eyes closing as he sucks on it, the faint tastes of charcoal and beer, chocolate and Kool-Aid, ozone and acrylic. Nate moans low, and his eyes are hot when Brad opens his. “Can we get out of here?”
Brad takes a deep breath and nods, releasing Nate’s thumb and sitting up, almost surprised that the entire park appears deserted. “Someone must have told them the titty bar down the street has half- priced beers, huh?”
“I just think maybe it’s a little easier to pretend they don’t know this is going on if they’re not watching?”
“Are you kidding? Those perverts would watch their mothers go down on a farm animal.” Brad slides off the table and tugs Nate into a sitting position, kneeling on the bench between his spread legs. “Besides, we haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Maybe they all saw what you did to Stafford and didn’t want the same fate.” Nate’s hands settle on Brad’s hips, fingers curving and tugging Brad’s shirt from his shorts, sliding under it to splay against Brad’s skin.
Brad shivers and closes his eyes, swaying forward to rest his forehead against Nate’s. His voice is low and rough, painful in his throat. “I want you, Nate. I don’t know how to say that without scaring you off or freaking you out, but I do. Not someone. Not anyone. You.”
“Brad.”
He opens his eyes slowly and meets Nate’s gaze, breath catching as Nate tilts his head up, his lips molding against Brad’s. Brad exhales into the kiss, mouths moving together, strangely chaste and tentative.
“I’m supposed to be staying with my sister.” Nate’s thumbs are moving in slow half-circles on Brad’s stomach, distracting Brad enough that it takes him a moment to respond.
“I’m crashing at a buddy’s.” Nate’s frustrated groan makes Brad’s cock jump. “H-he’s in Afghanistan.”
“Good,” Nate huffs, laughing helplessly at Brad’s look. “Not that he’s…you know what I mean.”
Brad nods, closing his eyes again as he finds Nate’s mouth. Nate makes a small sound and Brad’s tongue darts out, painting the seam of Nate’s lips, parting them. Brad shifts on the bench, inching closer until his thighs brush against Nate’s. Nate’s tongue meets Brad’s, sliding sinuously into Brad’s mouth, tangling there, thick moans punctuating the slow give and take.
Nate gasps softly, stealing Brad’s air as they pull apart. “Unless you plan on this happening here, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Follow me in your car.”
“Ride with me.”
“I’m not leaving my bike here to fuck anybody; I don’t care how good a piece of ass you are, Fick.” Brad sucks Nate’s lower lip into his mouth. “Besides, I couldn’t promise our first time wouldn’t end up happening in the backseat of your fucking liberal hippie car.”
“Could ride with you.”
“Sex on the bike is even more uncomfortable.” Brad’s hands splay on Nate’s thighs and slide up, his thumbs tracing the outline of Nate’s erection. “Besides, my own hard on is distracting enough. Having yours pressed against my ass is likely to get us both killed.” He kisses Nate again, tongue exploring the hot, wet surfaces, learning the curves and contours of Nate’s mouth. “Don’t want to stop.”
“Stop now and drive fast. Make up for lost time.”
“We’ve had enough of that.” Brad pulls away reluctantly, adjusting himself as he grabs his backpack and helmet. “C’mon.” Nate gets to his feet, grabbing his own bag. Before he can turn around, Brad is pressed against him, his hand curved over Nate’s cock, shifting it slightly. “Hate for you to be uncomfortable during the ride.”
“What? The war wasn’t foreplay enough for you?”
“Foreplay’s just a nice word for torture.” Brad grins wickedly over Nate’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
Nate groans roughly. “I hope your friend lives close.”
“I hope your pussy car can go over the speed limit.”
**
Brad digs in his bag for the apartment keys, watching Nate as he climbs the stairs. He loses his train of thought for a moment as Nate smiles at him, something innocent in the grin, almost lost beneath the veneer of anticipation. Brad groans under his breath, too many years of repressed wanting boiling thick and hot in his blood.
He closes his fist around the keys as Nate clears the top landing. Pulling them out of the bag, he thumbs through them, feeling Nate’s eyes on him. He finds the door key and slips it in the top lock, biting back a sound as Nate moves closer and presses against him. “So, how close a friend is this guy?”
“What?” Brad clears the top lock and then slides the key into the knob. Nate’s meaning sinks in and he turns his head to smile. “Sam’s just a good friend.”
Nate cocks an eyebrow, crowding Brad against the door. “And what am I?”
Brad turns the doorknob with one hand, the other curving along Nate’s jaw. “You’re Nate.” He leans in, breathing against Nate’s mouth. “And I’ve been waiting so long for you.”
Nate groans Brad’s name in the timeless second before he kisses him, none of the restraint from the park evident as he crushes their mouths together, his tongue sliding against Brad’s aggressively, hot and hard. Brad shoves the door open with his foot and kicks his backpack inside. He sucks on Nate’s tongue as he hooks his fingers in Nate’s belt loops, tugging him through the door.
Nate kicks the door shut behind them, his hands moving beneath Brad’s shirt, short nails grazing his skin. Brad breaks the kiss, gasping Nate’s name. Nate growls and kisses him again, and Brad starts backwards, stumbling over objects in his path until they’re both laughing against each other’s mouths, not quite kissing by the time Brad steps over the coffee table and collapses on the couch.
Nate follows him, stretching out on Brad, finding his mouth again. “Your mouth,” Brad whispers against Nate’s lips. “I have so many X-rated fantasies about your mouth.” He licks Nate’s swollen lips then catches the lower one between his teeth, sucking at it lightly. “Every fucking jack is about your mouth.”
Nate sucks in a breath before kissing Brad again, shifting against him and working one knee between both of Brad’s, pressing their cocks together and moaning like something straight out of Brad’s fantasies. “Want you.” Nate presses closer, his mouth marking a trail along Brad’s jaw, down to his neck, teeth scraping lightly. He grinds down, his cock hard on Brad’s.
Brad curves his hands over Nate’s ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he angles up. Nate buries his head against Brad’s neck, breathing heavily. “Tell me.”
“Want…” Nate’s breath shudders as he nuzzles Brad’s earlobe. “Want to feel you.”
“Fuck, Nate.” Brad slides his hands up to Nate’s arms and holds him, thumbs rubbing the curve of his biceps before he tightens his grip, pushing Nate back and away from him.
Nate sits back on the couch, face flushed and confused. He licks his lips, tongue sliding over the swollen flesh. “What…”
Brad shakes his head and kicks off his shoes and socks before tugging his shirt over his head. His torso is pale compared to his arms and neck, the contrast bringing the sharp definition of his abdominal muscles into high relief.
Nate sits on the edge of the cushion, his fingers tracing the contours as Brad looks down at him. “Killed me to look at you, see you like this over there and not touch you.”
“Wish you would have.” Brad’s laugh is thick and rough. “Could have saved us both a lot of time.”
“Fairly sure Godfather would have frowned on it.”
“Certainly wouldn’t have met Sixta’s grooming standard.” He watches Nate’s fingers, reaching down and tracing the back of Nate’s hand. Nate looks up at Brad and spreads his hands, sliding them up, his thumbs rubbing over Brad’s nipples before scraping his nails down his sides.
Brad’s head falls back and his body jerks hard on a breath. Reaching down, he curls his fingers around Nate’s wrists and lifts them back, pinning them above his head against the wall. His voice is a rough growl.
“Nate.”
Nate arches up off the couch as Brad sinks to his knees, his body stretched over Nate’s, one hand still holding Nate’s wrists as the other pushes Nate’s shirt up, baring his stomach. His eyes are dark, hot on Brad. Without looking away from him, Brad lowers his head and presses a hot kiss against Nate’s stomach, tongue tracing a lazy circle around his navel.
Nate's lips are pressed tight together, but a tortured sound escapes and his hips angle up again as Brad's mouth keeps moving over his skin. "C'mon. C'mon. Please, Brad." He's thrusting against air, seeking out any kind of contact. Brad looks up at him and pops the button on Nate's shorts, tugging the zipper down in one easy gesture. Nate groans and his hips come off the couch again, his briefs wet over the head of his cock. "Please."
Brad guides Nate's briefs over his erection and then pulls away, breath ghosting over the hard flesh before he's kneeling back on his heels to undo his own shorts. Nate growls, hungry and determined and comes off the couch onto his knees and pushing Brad down, slamming his shoulders into the coffee table before sending it skidding back and out of their way.
"Fuck, Nate." Brad half-gasps, half-laughs as Nate pins his shoulders to the floor, straddling him as Brad gets his legs untangled and stretched out. His pants are half-undone and Nate takes care of that in short order, stripping Brad's shorts and briefs out of his way with an efficiency of movement.
"I'm fucking trying, Colbert." Nate wraps his hand around Brad, his grip strong and assured as he begins to stroke. "You feel so..." He shakes his head and tightens his grip, thumb swiping across the head as he reaches the upstroke, curving back down to form a tight circle as he moves it down. "Been kicking my own ass for two and a half years. I don't want to wait anymore."
"In that case-" Brad shifts their momentum and Nate's on the ground, on his back. Brad thrusts down and pushes Nate's hand out of the way, wrapping his long fingers around both of them. Nate's groan is lost in Brad's kiss, but Brad tastes it - hot and desperate and wanting and his. He hangs his head, breathing Nate in as they rock together, his forehead on Nate's as they move in unison, playing a game of chicken to see who will give way first.
Nate's hands rake furrows in Brad's skin, digging down and across his back and ass, thrusting mindlessly, desperately into Brad's hand. Their cocks feel like fire against each other, like flint sparking hotter and hotter. Brad can feel his orgasm building at the base of his cock, tightening in his balls as he shifts his grip, feeling more of Nate. Nate's hips jerk and he goes over the edge, the hot wash of white pushing Brad into freefall, his own come hot on his hand, on his dick, on Nate.
"Fuck." Brad braces himself there, panting roughly. Nate's staring up at him, wide-eyed and fucking gone, his pupils blown wide and black. Brad calls his name softly and Nate shivers violently, cock jerking in Brad's hand. Brad eases his grip slowly and pulls away, slumping down on the floor beside Nate, his hand lying possessively on the upper curve of Nate's thigh. "You okay?"
"Is that what you planned to do to me last time?"
"Something along those lines."
"Mmm." Nate's eyes are closed and he's quiet for a long moment before turning on his side, looking over at Brad. He's a sticky mess and he looks owned, which heats Brad's body again. "Kick my ass later, will you?"
"No." Brad learned a long time ago not to count on the future, to live for today, so he leans in and kisses Nate before getting to his feet, tugging Nate with him toward the bathroom and, from there, the bedroom. "Though you can be assured sure, that what I will do will very much have something to do with your ass."