hackthis_archive | War, Southland and comment-fic, oh my!

It's interesting that the plague showing up in China and the Birthers bullshit only kind of makes me nervous, but

tomricks interrupting his vacation to blog about shit falling apart in Iraq makes me want to crawl under my desk and kiss my ass goodbye.

Also, this article about a personal trainer who put on 88 lbs. just so he could lose it and see what it's like for his clients is pretty compelling. I think this is going to make him a much stronger trainer.

I feel like I'm saying this every time I post (and I probably am, too bad!), BUT, for those stragglers who aren't on the train yet. NBC is re-airing Southland right now in the run up to the premiere (Sept 25th) on Friday nights at 8pm. You can also watch it on NBC.com and on Hulu. They have the first four episodes up (there are only seven), so please, please please, watch it. You won't regret it. Really.

In other Southland news: Michael and Ben start filming tomorrow. If I was any more excited I'd bounce out of my chair. Oh, wait, and L is writing me comment!porn featuring slutty!Ben. You all wish you had an L, but she is mine. Okay, jointly shared with Q and A. And her family. And all of you, but you know what I mean.

Offer Redux!: Oh, and I've been thinking, you know, I had so much fun the last time around that if anybody's got some like photos or something and might want some comment-fic, you know, I think I'm open for business.* Who knows, you might even get L, A and Q to play along too. Then again, they might all boycott and you'll be stuck with me. ;-)

*You know how it goes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nate smiles at Brad. He knows his cheeks are flushed, and he's feeling better every minute, the mantle of command slipping from his shoulders more and more with ever shot the guys place in his hands. He's had too much to drink and he knows it, knows he should stop, but it's easy now to let all of these men - his brothers, his friends - know how he feels about them. This doesn't have the somber finality of his paddle party, but the loose, raucous feel of celebration.

Poke gave him a horrid orange tie straight out of the seventies that he draped over Nate's head, and Q-tip told him he needed a pimp hat and then slapped a fedora on his head. Ray informed him he looked about twelve and asked him how he felt about NAMBLA. The rest of the guys just bought him drinks and wished him well.

Except Brad.

Brad is sitting at the bar, watching them all have fun while he sips his beer quietly. They're used to Brad being a little stand-offish when they're all together. He's not the type to swing from the rafters or lose control. But Nate can't help looking at him from time to time, trying to judge from the occasional shouts of response to someone else's mocking or from the sly curve of his lips whether or not Brad's having any fun.

"So." Nate slides onto the stool next to Brad, only Brad's grip on his elbow keeping him from sliding right off the other side. "You having fun at my party?"

"A grand old time, sir."

"You can't call me that anymore." Nate raises his hand to point at Brad, realizes he's facing the wrong direction and turns around. "I'm just Nate Fick. Civilian at large."

"Large what, homes?" Ray clasps Nate's shoulder and shakes Nate like he's a batch of martinis. "If you're talking about Brad, we'll just assume it's his dick."

"Just because you like watching me jack off, Ray, doesn't mean you have to share the information with everyone."

"Who wouldn't want to watch you jack off, Brad. You're like a fucking Adonis. You and Rudy could start a Hot Marines calendar, give all the gays of the world something worth jerking off to."

Nate blinks, trying to focus, lost somewhere alone the slope of Brad's neck. He's spent hours wondering what Brad's skin tastes like, what it feels like. He's known Brad for what seems like forever now, war warping time for all of them, and he's never touched him. Not on purpose.

Nate reaches out, runs his fingers along Brad's jaw. Brad jerks his attention back to Nate and wraps his fingers tight around Nate's wrist. "Don't."

Nate frowns, the skin between his eyes furrowing. "Why not?"

"Because you're about to fly across the country, I'm about to leave the country, and starting something right now isn't anywhere in my plans."

"Would I be starting something?" Nate asks softly, glancing down at Brad's hand still wrapped around his wrist, Brad's thumb rubbing a soft rhythm over Nate's pulse.

"See if Harvard can teach you the answer to that," Brad says softly as he releases Nate's wrist and gets to his feet. "And burn that tie. That thing is fucking hideous."

OMG WHY IS THIS ADORABLE PICTURE INSPIRING SO MUCH HEARTBREAK?!?!

Just fuck him, Brad! JESUS!

You know when Nate touched him, the entirety of Bravo turned around, shoved their hands in their pockets and started whistling. They were veritable Sgt. Schultzes. "I see nothzink! I know nothzink!"

♥!

I'm glad you liked it!

You seem stressed out. *snickers* You told me you didn't even read mine, I don't know what you're talking about. I have a meeting, maybe I will go ponder the slope of Nate's neck.

I read it and it fucking made me CRY just like the damn NATE DIES HORRIBLY fic. I wasn't kidding about the angst PTSD that you have given me. *sobs*

I have a meeting, maybe I will go ponder the slope of Nate's neck.

God, please. I need more of Nate and Brad HAPPY!

The slope of Nate's neck is an excellent thing for pondering. I endorse this.

Damn, and now I see why people yell "you ended it THERE?" at me.

Also, I can only assume you have a sekrit identiy as Batman, b/c I am having a seriously shitty day and then this showed up and you are like saving lives. No doubt. You and Q. And A. Y'all are awesome. *sniffs* Don't make me go emo, I hate emo.

Brad can't fuck anyone in that orange tie. He just *can't*.

Of course, Nate is a bad-ass motherfucking Marine. You think he's going to let Brad's long-distance, emotional bullshit get in the way? Fuck that. He's probably going to show up at Brad's door, shove his way in and tell Brad exactly how it's going to be and dare Brad to argue.

Good thing they both know how good Brad is at taking orders.

::snuggles you and offers you chocolate chip/butterscotch cookies::

You end it there???!

Nate slides onto the stool next to Brad, only Brad's grip on his elbow keeping him from sliding right off the other side. "You having fun at my party?"

For some reason this little detail totally got me. Like, Nate's sloshed and would slide to the floor, but Brad's got him before he knows it. I LOVE that. As you can imagine.

You know, once Nate sobers up a little bit he's gonna realize what Brad turning him down really means. Because Brad's talking about starting something, thinking in bigger terms than just a quick fuck. And he had it at the ready, which means he's thought about this. Which is so, so telling.

But I maintain: you end it there?!

::hearts::

Apparently lately I'm less about the letting them have sex and more about making them be loooooooooooooooonging. God, I'm such a girl sometimes.

War, Southland and comment-fic, oh my!

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