hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2009-02-10 04:56 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2009-02-10 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
GK - The Sea (Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel, PG)
So, I never actually got to use Write or Die, because of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alethialia, who is a fucking BAD, err awesome influence. Apparently I have no words unless they involve Layla Colbert Fick. Go figure. This cookie is for A and mydocuments who requested 'children' and 'daughter' in some challenge somewhere. This is a bit bigger than a comment.
Generation Kill
Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel
The Sea
Layla's playing at the water's edge with Samuel, although a more appropriate description would be that Layla's at the water's edge, whacking her cousin with her shovel so he'll help her with her sand castle.
At four Samuel's much more tolerant than Layla is at sixteen months.
Nate should probably put a stop to the assault, but Layla keeps shrieking with glee every time Samuel dumps sand in her lap. If Sammy's trying to get rid of his cousin, he's not trying very hard.
Every now and then a wave comes far enough up the beach that it rushes over the little pile of sand that was Layla's sand castle, and Layla claps as though she's commanded the entire thing to happen.
It's not outside the realm of possibility.
Nate watches as Layla stands up on little brown legs and darts around the surf in her peach-colored swimsuit, white zinc slathered all over her nose and cheeks. She wanted the swimsuit with ruffles; Brad agreed. He had nothing to do with it.
It's amazing how fast she's gone from crawling and babbling to foot mobile and very vocal. "Daddy! Daddy" she shrieks, waving her red plastic shovel excitedly at Nate. "Lookit!"
"Layla, be careful with that," Nate warns as she nearly beheads Samuel.
Layla gives him a toothy grin before she drops back down and dumps sand on Sammy's leg.
Nate shakes his head with a smile, shifting under their beach umbrella before going back to pretending to read the potential precincts reports that his exploratory team has assembled.
The run won't happen for a few years yet, he wants Layla in preschool first, but it's never too early for groundwork.
First, city council, and then Congress, and then the Senate, and after that. Well, Layla should be ready for middle school at least. It'll be a better time to move across the country.
A sharp shriek grabs his attention, and he's just in time to see Layla run as fast as her chubby legs will take her out to where Brad's coming in with his surfboard.
Layla may have excitement on her side, but Nate's got longer legs, faster reflexes and Iraq on his side. He dashes across the sand and scoops Layla up before she's more than four inches into the surf.
Layla looses another happy shriek as Nate scoops her up in his arms like a runaway lamb. "Where do you think you're going?" Nate says, tickling her as she kicks gleefully.
"I keep telling you it's time for her to get her own surfboard," Brad says, brushing the water from his face.
Nate makes a dismissive noise, but Brad's grin is huge. Nate rolls his eyes. He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
Some people get better with age. Some people look better with sun. And then there are people like Brad, who just need to dial back the hotness for the rest of the mortals.
Layla twists in his grasp, making grabby motions at Brad when he leans down. "Layla wants to swim with me, don't you, Princess?"
Layla giggles as Brad shakes his head and droplets of water fly all over them. The water dries the second it hits Nate's skin; he should get in the water, too. It's hot out today; he could stand to cool off.
Nate glances down at where Layla's whacking him on the arm. "We swim, Daddy?" she asks, looking up at him expectantly.
Nate blinks, looking out at the blueish-grey Newport water and not at the water droplets rolling down Brad's bare chest.
How parents manage to raise children while dying for a fuck, he has no idea.
Brad's mouth twitches at the right corner as though he can read Nate's mind, then again, Nate's not trying very hard to hide his thoughts.
"Nate," Brad mocks. "I'm shocked you would even entertain such thoughts in front of our daughter at her impressionable age."
Nate snorts, holding a wriggling Layla a little more firmly. "When she can spell 'innuendo,' I'll worry. Until then I think we're going to go for a swim, and you're going to watch your nephew."
Brad considers this for a moment. "Sammy," he calls. "You ready to learn how to surf?"
Samuel jumps to his feet, rushing out to where they're standing, the surf washing over their feet. "Really, Uncle Brad?" he asks.
Brad's sister, Sharon, has been pretty adamant about Sammy being too small to learn how to surf. Nate should point this out. "Brad, you know what your sister said."
"Are you nagging me, wife?" Brad teases.
Nate snorts. "If I was your wife, I'd be the best wife ever."
Brad grins. "The best slutty wife ever," he corrects, scratching his head, the sun glinting off of the silver ring on his left hand.
Nate can feel his face –- and a few other things -- getting warm. Dammit.
Layla's squirms. "Down now," she demands.
Oh, thank god.
Nate means to look disapproving. He knows he does; he just can't manage it with Brad giving him that look. He shakes his head and lets Layla down onto her feet, making sure to hold her hand.
"If Sammy breaks his nose, and Sharon wants your blood, just remember it's not my fault," Nate says as Layla kicks water everywhere.
"If Sharon wants me for anything, I think she's going to have agree to watch Layla tonight, first," Brad says, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Nate licks his lips. "I could support that initiative."
"It's a good initiative," Brad agrees.
"Uncle Brad?" Sammy interrupts. "Are we going to surf now?"
"In a minute, Sammy," Brad says, shifting his surfboard a little and stepping forward.
Nate chuckles, shaking his head.
Layla's tugging at his hand, even as Brad leans in. "Now, Daddy!" she insists, and they both glance at her for a moment, sharing a brief, indulgent grin.
"So, you and me tonight?" Nate inquires. "No kids?"
Brad's eyes are bright. "We could play Recon Marines," he says, his mouth a breath away from Nate's.
Nate's laugh is swallowed up by a quick kiss, followed rather spectacularly by Layla stepping on his foot. "Now, Daddy!" she orders.
"Jesus!" Brad bitches lightly. "Kids."
Nate grins sharply. "Imagine if we had more than one."
Brad's eyes go wide. "That's a joke I hope."
Nate shrugs, scooping up Layla again to take her a little further out. "Could be," he tosses over his shoulder.
"You're going to have to put out a lot more for another kid," Brad calls.
"Put out what?" Sammy asks.
Nate's too busy laughing to hear Brad's reply.
-end-
alethialia, who is a fucking BAD, err awesome influence. Apparently I have no words unless they involve Layla Colbert Fick. Go figure. This cookie is for A and mydocuments who requested 'children' and 'daughter' in some challenge somewhere. This is a bit bigger than a comment.Generation Kill
Brad/Nate, Layla, Samuel
Layla's playing at the water's edge with Samuel, although a more appropriate description would be that Layla's at the water's edge, whacking her cousin with her shovel so he'll help her with her sand castle.
At four Samuel's much more tolerant than Layla is at sixteen months.
Nate should probably put a stop to the assault, but Layla keeps shrieking with glee every time Samuel dumps sand in her lap. If Sammy's trying to get rid of his cousin, he's not trying very hard.
Every now and then a wave comes far enough up the beach that it rushes over the little pile of sand that was Layla's sand castle, and Layla claps as though she's commanded the entire thing to happen.
It's not outside the realm of possibility.
Nate watches as Layla stands up on little brown legs and darts around the surf in her peach-colored swimsuit, white zinc slathered all over her nose and cheeks. She wanted the swimsuit with ruffles; Brad agreed. He had nothing to do with it.
It's amazing how fast she's gone from crawling and babbling to foot mobile and very vocal. "Daddy! Daddy" she shrieks, waving her red plastic shovel excitedly at Nate. "Lookit!"
"Layla, be careful with that," Nate warns as she nearly beheads Samuel.
Layla gives him a toothy grin before she drops back down and dumps sand on Sammy's leg.
Nate shakes his head with a smile, shifting under their beach umbrella before going back to pretending to read the potential precincts reports that his exploratory team has assembled.
The run won't happen for a few years yet, he wants Layla in preschool first, but it's never too early for groundwork.
First, city council, and then Congress, and then the Senate, and after that. Well, Layla should be ready for middle school at least. It'll be a better time to move across the country.
A sharp shriek grabs his attention, and he's just in time to see Layla run as fast as her chubby legs will take her out to where Brad's coming in with his surfboard.
Layla may have excitement on her side, but Nate's got longer legs, faster reflexes and Iraq on his side. He dashes across the sand and scoops Layla up before she's more than four inches into the surf.
Layla looses another happy shriek as Nate scoops her up in his arms like a runaway lamb. "Where do you think you're going?" Nate says, tickling her as she kicks gleefully.
"I keep telling you it's time for her to get her own surfboard," Brad says, brushing the water from his face.
Nate makes a dismissive noise, but Brad's grin is huge. Nate rolls his eyes. He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
Some people get better with age. Some people look better with sun. And then there are people like Brad, who just need to dial back the hotness for the rest of the mortals.
Layla twists in his grasp, making grabby motions at Brad when he leans down. "Layla wants to swim with me, don't you, Princess?"
Layla giggles as Brad shakes his head and droplets of water fly all over them. The water dries the second it hits Nate's skin; he should get in the water, too. It's hot out today; he could stand to cool off.
Nate glances down at where Layla's whacking him on the arm. "We swim, Daddy?" she asks, looking up at him expectantly.
Nate blinks, looking out at the blueish-grey Newport water and not at the water droplets rolling down Brad's bare chest.
How parents manage to raise children while dying for a fuck, he has no idea.
Brad's mouth twitches at the right corner as though he can read Nate's mind, then again, Nate's not trying very hard to hide his thoughts.
"Nate," Brad mocks. "I'm shocked you would even entertain such thoughts in front of our daughter at her impressionable age."
Nate snorts, holding a wriggling Layla a little more firmly. "When she can spell 'innuendo,' I'll worry. Until then I think we're going to go for a swim, and you're going to watch your nephew."
Brad considers this for a moment. "Sammy," he calls. "You ready to learn how to surf?"
Samuel jumps to his feet, rushing out to where they're standing, the surf washing over their feet. "Really, Uncle Brad?" he asks.
Brad's sister, Sharon, has been pretty adamant about Sammy being too small to learn how to surf. Nate should point this out. "Brad, you know what your sister said."
"Are you nagging me, wife?" Brad teases.
Nate snorts. "If I was your wife, I'd be the best wife ever."
Brad grins. "The best slutty wife ever," he corrects, scratching his head, the sun glinting off of the silver ring on his left hand.
Nate can feel his face –- and a few other things -- getting warm. Dammit.
Layla's squirms. "Down now," she demands.
Oh, thank god.
Nate means to look disapproving. He knows he does; he just can't manage it with Brad giving him that look. He shakes his head and lets Layla down onto her feet, making sure to hold her hand.
"If Sammy breaks his nose, and Sharon wants your blood, just remember it's not my fault," Nate says as Layla kicks water everywhere.
"If Sharon wants me for anything, I think she's going to have agree to watch Layla tonight, first," Brad says, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Nate licks his lips. "I could support that initiative."
"It's a good initiative," Brad agrees.
"Uncle Brad?" Sammy interrupts. "Are we going to surf now?"
"In a minute, Sammy," Brad says, shifting his surfboard a little and stepping forward.
Nate chuckles, shaking his head.
Layla's tugging at his hand, even as Brad leans in. "Now, Daddy!" she insists, and they both glance at her for a moment, sharing a brief, indulgent grin.
"So, you and me tonight?" Nate inquires. "No kids?"
Brad's eyes are bright. "We could play Recon Marines," he says, his mouth a breath away from Nate's.
Nate's laugh is swallowed up by a quick kiss, followed rather spectacularly by Layla stepping on his foot. "Now, Daddy!" she orders.
"Jesus!" Brad bitches lightly. "Kids."
Nate grins sharply. "Imagine if we had more than one."
Brad's eyes go wide. "That's a joke I hope."
Nate shrugs, scooping up Layla again to take her a little further out. "Could be," he tosses over his shoulder.
"You're going to have to put out a lot more for another kid," Brad calls.
"Put out what?" Sammy asks.
Nate's too busy laughing to hear Brad's reply.
-end-
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It's amazing how fast she's gone from crawling and babbling to foot mobile and very vocal.
Foot mobile! ::dies a little::
He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
He is not lying, even a little bit. Oh, wait, YES HE IS!
And then there are people like Brad, who just need to dial back the hotness for the rest of the mortals.
But seriously, though.
How parents manage to raise children while dying for a fuck, he has no idea.
Hee! Well, most parents don't look like effin' Brad.
Brad's sister, Stephanie
AHH! I named Nate's sister Stephanie. Did I steal this from you? ::thinks::
"You're going to have to put out a lot more for another kid," Brad calls.
"Put out what?" Sammy asks.
AHAHAHAHA! ::dies a lot::
SO MUCH LOVE! They're too freakin' adorable for, like, anything. THANK YOU.
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The real Nate's sisters are named Stephanie and Maureen. =)
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...otoh, I've internalized canon to such an extent that I can no longer recognize when I'm being creative and when I'm using rl. This is worrisome.
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...Plus that way, all three siblings can have a really irritating naming scheme! =)
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Find and Replace is my friend!
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Foot mobile! ::dies a little::
I laughed when I typed that, because I can totally see them referring to her that way once she starts walking.
He is not even thinking about sex. Not even a little bit.
He is not lying, even a little bit. Oh, wait, YES HE IS!
Frankly, I think this is one of those instances where they should be damn happy men don't get knocked up, or they'd have more kids than Brangelina.
SO MUCH LOVE! They're too freakin' adorable for, like, anything. THANK YOU.
You are very welcome. Even after I posted this I e-mailed
But Layla's standing in the middle of the living-room with her little sippy-cup and her hair in afro-puffs, and Ray walks in, she's all Ray-Ray! ::insert
little Layla dance of glee:: Because that's what she calls him. Not Uncle Ray, but Ray-Ray. And then she sees Walt and she's all WTF is this?
I can just see her, clutching at Ray's pants leg and eying Walt like, "Who are you and how dare you impinge on my Ray-Ray time?!"
Yes, I have been whipped by somebody who wanders around in a diaper, a red tee shirt that doesn't quite cover her baby belly and afro-puffs.
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I am thinking you are right. I am thinking Brad should point this out.
but he brings Walt, so Nate's like okay.
AHAHAHA!
"Who are you and how dare you impinge on my Ray-Ray time?!"
Awww! And Walt's such a nice guy and now he's getting the Colbert evil-eye from a toddler. How tragic his life has become.
Yes, I have been whipped by somebody who wanders around in a diaper, a red tee shirt that doesn't quite cover her baby belly and afro-puffs.
Well, how could you NOT be, really?
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I know! I can see them giving Layla a bath -- in the sink of course, b/c Ray's about making shit easy on himself, especially after that one time he put in too much bubble bath in the tub and Layla nearly got swallowed up by bubbles -- and she's singing to herself, and Walt's just like, she doesn't like me, and Ray's like, you're paranoid, is this some PTSD flashback, and Layla's just having the best time, babbing Ray's name, and Walt's like, no, really, and he pushes on Ray to make him step out of the room for two seconds and Layla shrieks "Want Ray-Ray now!" At the top of her lungs -- and Ray's like, well,, you know...
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I think it's less of 'a' toddler and more like 'this' toddler, b/c of how much Ray dotes on Layla.
And yeah, Layla's totally suspicious of Walt until it comes time for bed and Walt sings to her, and then she's like, oh, you sing like my Daddy, you can stay.
I can totally hear Walt singing Johnny Cash songs to her, and Ray's like, OMG! You're singing to her about Folsom Prison, Nate's going to kill me! And Walt's like, you know, Cash sang some other songs and then he goes back to singing 'I've Been Everywhere" and Layla's just clapping in her crib, bouncing up and down in her orange footie pyjamas, and demanding more. She totally keeps them up half the night and then in the morning, she watches cartoons on Walt's lap, and Ray staggers in all bleary eyed, like, dude, did I get upsurped in the middle of the night?
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ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? Ray and Walt's adventures with Layla are like so adorable that I don't think the universe can handle how adorable they are!
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::snickers madly::