See How I Soar

Agent Nashville. Pilot. Lover of balloon animals. Soldier. Brother. Master of boxer yoga. [RP blog for the group Freelancer RP]

[agentnashville]

It has been awesome, you guys are the best, I love you all.

Check the tags for my skype or message me here, I'm not deleting the blogs. <3

So long and thanks for all the fish

[agentnashville]

[agentnashville]

I AM SITTING HERE SOBBING MY WAY THROUGH THE LAST TWO EPISODES OF THE OFFICE WHO SAID THIS WAS OKAY WHO SAID THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA

[agentlincoln-blog]

Might As Well Be Helpful || Nashville & Lincoln

[agentlincoln-blog]

[Oh great.]

It’s been a while.

[But seeing as there was no medic around, and Lincoln didn’t know where the hell to find one—maybe they were on break, who knew—he pulled up a chair, and went to find basic supplies. Once he’d gotten his hands on some disinfectant and gauze, he returned, seating himself in front of Nashville.

Taking Nashville’s hand, Lincoln turned it palm-up to study it. Under better lighting, it was obvious that it wouldn’t need stitches, thankfully.]

Lucky for you, I’m not going to have to do stitches. I’m just going to clean it up, and then we’ll wrap it, alright?

[Never could be too careful around injuries gotten from mechanical parts. Oil and rust and cleaning fluid everywhere, unless the mechanic was the most fastidious cleaner ever.]

[agentnashville]

[Yeah, Nashville would be lying if he said there wasn't some part of him that was perfectly happy with Lincoln holding his hand. It might sound pathetic, but it'd been a few months, and even the simple contact had a shivery warmth tightening in his gut. 

It was nice, was all. To have some kind of connection. Who didn't like that? It didn't mean anything except that human beings were wired to crave touch. And Lincoln was definitely someone worth craving.] 

Well, then you can think of this as field training.

[Nashville grinned, reaching over to take the disinfectant and sterilization pad.] 

Part of the pilot thing. Have to keep up on my emergency first aid. 

You know, I can do this myself. If you'd rather.

[With a quiet smile, Nashville held up the pad, eyebrow arched inquisitively.] 

So, other than discovering my secret, clumsy side, how are you adjusting to the ship? 

Did you, uh. Did you get one of those robot people in your head?

[agentlincoln-blog]

Might As Well Be Helpful || Nashville & Lincoln

[agentlincoln-blog]

[Yeah. Definitely a relentless fucking flirt.]

Yeah, for an American. [There’s a note of humor in Lincoln’s voice. His sense of humor, when it makes an appearance, is so dry that he often has problems with people not understanding that he’s joking at all.] Sorry. Should I have said ‘for a white guy’?

[Dry, but not truly mocking. Lincoln isn’t overly given to truly insulting people, not when there’s no higher purpose to it. Not when there’s no gain.

And thankfully for him, they’d just arrived at the med bay. Lincoln didn’t particularly want to talk further about how Nashville found him good looking. It wasn’t because Lincoln thought he was ugly, he was just … plain, he figured. Sounded weird getting called attractive.]

So. There a medic here, or do you need to go in and get seen to by robots or something?

[agentnashville]

[Nashville didn't even try to stop his laugh, rubbing a hand across his lips as he grinned up at Lincoln. Okay, he just...liked the guy. He'd met some cool people on the ship, but there was something different about Lincoln.

He couldn't put his finger on it. Just... A dry, quiet kind of confidence that made Nashville want to stick around. To try and elicit more of those jokes, to hear that laugh again.] 

I know there's a medic, I'm just not sure if she keeps office hours for minor scratches.

[He gave Lincoln a little grin, nudging his elbow against Lincoln's arm. Yes, yes, he knew, better safe than sorry. But come on. When was the last time anyone had given enough of a shit about him to worry that he'd cut his hand? Nothing was falling off, he wasn't in danger of dying, and that was pretty much the minimum needed for concern.

But here was Lincoln, walking him to the damn medic for nothing more than a cut.

Who did that?] 

But I'm guessing we'll find out.

[The room was empty; Nash hopped up onto one of the beds, legs kicking absently.] 

How's your first aid, Lance?

[agentnashville]

Ben Wishaw in Cloud Atlas

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)

[agentdovers]

[God, he wasn’t giving up on that nickname, was he?]

My name is Dover.

[He had half the mind to just go back to his room. The dinner was beginning to seem like a completely terrible and altogether poor decision on everyone’s behalf. Besides, Nashville seemed to be having quite some fun, even in the rest of Alpha’s absence. Dover wasn’t too bright, that he had come to terms with, but he was smart enough to know that if his absence made no difference, neither would his presence. But he found himself sitting down anyways, not hungry at all, but deciding that forcing himself into the situation was likely to produce some kind of beneficial result. Hopefully.]

Did we not bond enough when you tried to jump my bones a week ago?

[unitcandice-blog-blog]

[Candice had seen the notes around the Labs and wasn’t particularly impressed by them, but she still decided to come out of “good team spirit”. She walked into the kitchen, trying to garner the attention of the room. As she looked around, she wasn’t surprised that it was almost empty. Giving a curt nod to Agent Dover, a smile followed. She joined into whatever insignificant conversation the two were having before.]

Dover. And you must be Nashville. I hope I’m not too late for this…party.

Dover, I hope you know of Columbia’s whereabouts. The remaining numbers of the original alpha team are slowly dwindling, so I think it’s wise to revel in our new found camaraderie.

[agentnashville]

I know your name, Pep. Do you think I'm going to forget?

[Nashville gave him a wink, moving over to the table. Leaning over Dover, possibly closer than was strictly necessary, Nashville put out the bowl of cheese. Last piece to the puzzle. And now it was all set.

He just needed his team.

Taking a seat next to Dover, Nashville gave him a look, eyebrow arched.] 

Is that what you think happened?

Trust me, Dover. If I tried to get into your pants, I would already know how you like your eggs.

And yeah, I'm Nashville.

[He grinned at Candice, gesturing to the empty chairs.] 

Take a seat. Do you want something to drink? 

Yeah, I figured a meal was just what we needed. Good old-fashioned bonding.

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)

[agentdovers]

[First to arrive. Of fucking course he was the first to arrive. Dover hadn’t wanted to come to the dinner, but the note on his door had been endearing at least, and he kind of owed it to him. Besides, Nashville intrigued him, and dinner sounded like a done deal. Any food sounded like a done deal. Hopefully there was going to be grilled cheese involved. Ideally.

Alas, there was not grilled cheese. Only spaghetti. What a damn time to be alive. Dover just looked around a bit awkwardly, feeling somewhat incomplete and incapable without Leo by his side. Leo always knew what to say. Dover did not.]

Is dinner really the only excuse you could manage for a meeting?

[Yeah, Dover was calling bullshit on this being genuine sentiment. Maybe it was his bitter, reluctantly caring nature. Maybe it was that Nashville ran him up one wall and down the other, and they had only ever held one conversation together. Maybe it was a lot of things. The only thing Dover could really secure in his mind was that he was going to give Nashville the hardest time possible. He wasn’t quite sure what motivated him to do so, but something in him made him want to make someone else miserable.]

[agentnashville]

[Not that Nashville, in any way, shape or form, stopped dancing when Dover came in. He was busy grating the cheese for the spaghetti, hips moving when a particularly good section of the music came up. He grinned over his shoulder at Dover, pointing the cheese grater at him.]  

Look at that. Pep has arrived.

Take a seat. Nothing formal, just some pasta. You want something to drink?

[He nudged out one of the chairs closest to the stove for Dover, going back to his cheese.] 

Meeting? Oh, man, no. I'm not, like, a leader or any of that shit.

I just figured that before gunfire starts we should get to know each other. That okay with you, Pep?

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)

[Nashville had slaved over a hot stove for, like, forty minutes to get dinner together. Not that he minded. He had on his Kiss the Cook apron, sleeves rolled up, dancing around the kitchen to some awesome new West Earth Techno Folk.

He'd even set the table, ready for his teammates to arrive. That was love, right there.

Nashville had prepared a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs, some garlic bread, and arranged everything out family style. Now all he had to do was wait for people to arrive.] 

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Assemble!

[Oh the doorway of every Alpha team member’s room, as well as posted at several places in the Restoration Bay for the A.I.s, was an invitation. Nashville felt he’d gone far too long without actually sitting down and getting to know his fellow team members. After all, trusting someone in battle started with sharing a meal.] 

[agentnashville]

 #TEAM ALPHA ASSEMBLE  #I DON'T KNOW WHO'S AROUND #AND ACTIVE #BUT NASH IS GOING TO COOK YOU GUYS FOOD #SO I'LL DO A POST TOMORROW #AND WE CAN JUST #ALL JUMP IN #I'LL TAG IT TEAM ALPHA ASSEMBLE #SO YOU CAN FIND IT #ALPHA PRIDE

[agentnashville]

Test Flight (@Bismarck)

Wiping his hands off, stepping back from the Pelican, Nashville kicked his tool chest closed. That was it. The final adjustment to the final Pelican. Supplies were checked, the restocking forms and procedures had been fine tuned to give even better accountability.

Nashville had no intention of another pilot error happening. Redundancies were a good thing when it came to hurtling a hunk of metal through space into combat.

Now all that was left were the test flights. He'd already taken the main Pelican out, but he wanted to make sure all the secondary birds were ready to fly.

Flipping through his tablet, he ran one last check. Just to be sure.

And then? Then he got to do his favorite thing to do with his clothes on.

Then he got to fly.

[agentlincoln-blog]

Might As Well Be Helpful || Nashville & Lincoln

[agentlincoln-blog]

[Well, one thing was fucking clear.

Nashville was a flirt of the highest goddamn degree. He flirted like he had absolutely no doubt that he’d get what he wanted. Typical pilot. Lincoln had been around pilots, and they all had that cocky, confident attitude—them and snipers, peas in a pod.

But Lincoln wasn’t here to get into a relationship, no matter how good Nashville was at flirting.]

Yeah, you pronounced it just fine. [Lincoln makes a noise—it’s a laugh, but it sounds more like a very quick cross between a snort and a grunt. It’s about the closest he comes to a belly-laugh these days.] For an American.

[Honestly, Lincoln doesn’t know what the fuck to do, being flirted with. It’s been a long time, even longer since he flirted back with anybody. And really, he shouldn’t even be thinking about trying. He had shit to do.]

I promise I’ll make it mild enough so that you don’t start crying. [He sighs a little.] So, deal. But feel free to skip your part of the bargain.

[agentnashville]

[And there was a laugh. Nashville grinned wider, satisfaction warming in his gut. That was a very nice sound. He wanted to hear more of that. 

Soldiers weren't typically the boisterous types, especially not when you got higher up in the ranks, when you were around men and women who'd seen that much blood. That much destruction. The laughs got shorter, the smiles more sparse, as if they were afraid to attract too much attention to them. As if the gods on high the whatever would come down and smite them for daring to be happy while trapped in hell.

As if their lips had forgotten uses other than screams and shouted commands.] 

Oh, for an American. I see how it is.

[He was laughing back, smiling up at Lincoln. This was...

This was nice. Too many people on this boat were overly serious. The war effort was apparently not enough, they had to be dour in order to make it really hit home.] 

I'm tougher than I look, Lance. Might surprise you.

Oh, no, I have no intention of denying myself that pleasure. Trust me, it'll be the best part of my day.

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Assemble!

[Oh the doorway of every Alpha team member's room, as well as posted at several places in the Restoration Bay for the A.I.s, was an invitation. Nashville felt he'd gone far too long without actually sitting down and getting to know his fellow team members. After all, trusting someone in battle started with sharing a meal.] 

[agent-charleston]

Slow Down || Charlie & Nash

[agent-charleston]

Charleston felt ridiculous as he tried desperately not to look at Nashville. Talk about a major overreaction, he thought. Nashville was looking at him like some stupid scared dog and talking about running away and calming down. His ears and his cheeks burned with embarrassment - he had managed to screw up a simple sparring session. He was a social klutz, but he hadn’t been this bad for months.

"I-it’s, um, it’s f-f-fine," he said, trying to recover both control over his breathing and grasp of his own voice. "I j-just, ah…it was my f-fault. No. I m-mean, I didn’t mean t-to - "

Swallowing, Charleston risked a glance at Nashville. The man was still smiling, trying to make things better. Charleston almost wished he wouldn’t.

"I, ah, I l-like you, but I’m w-w-with Dover, a-and I don’t want t-to - I j-just want friends, o-okay, I mean, even though - i-if you really want to be frrriends, I m-mean - "

It was like he was back in high school again, grasping at straws to say one thing. It was stupid, and all he could think back to was Nashville questioning his ability to communicate over the stupid radio - he felt like he was failing some unspoken test. He quickly shut his eyes and went through a quick breathing exercise. That was something the old Charleston did, the weak one, but it wasn’t that easy to shed his old identity, he supposed.

"I’m s-sorry," he apologized again, swallowing and looking back at Nashville after a moment. Charleston stood his ground, neither approaching nor distancing himself from Nashville further. "I’ve, um, I’ve not been f-feeling great this week."

What he meant was since they had left the medical facility, but Nashville didn’t need to know that.

[agentnashville]

"Stop apologizing." He said it softly, taking a step forward. Shit, now he just felt bad. "Listen, Astaire, I misread the situation. I thought you were... Interested. You're not. It's okay."

Honestly, Nashville couldn't remember the last time he'd come across a man in a relationship in the active troops. It wasn't something that happened. Maybe the more death you saw the more you realized how utterly pointless it was, to try and connect. To attempt to make more out of what time they had. 

When the entire world was burning to ash around you, why try to hold on to the dust? Everything would slip through your hands regardless of what you did. The only thing that could last were the good moments you created out of the shitstorm.

"Come on." Nashville took a few steps forward, hand going out to grasp Charleston's arm. He thought better of the motion, though, before it was completed and he let it fall away. "Look, I don't know you that well, so maybe I'm way off base. But you kind of look to me like you need...something. To talk to someone, or to punch somebody in the face, I don't know."

Nashville wasn't really one for deep and abiding friendships. There wasn't a point in it. But that didn't mean he didn't care. And if one of the guys he'd be flying into a fight, someone he'd trust with watching his back, needed help? Nashville was going to do what he could.

Dover was an asshole. A gorgeous asshole, but still. Not really the type of person Nashville imagined someone like Charleston getting all doe-eyed over.

Also, totally not his business.

"I was going to go down and make some dinner. Why don't you come with me. I have one steak left and I might be convince to share it."

[agentnashville]

"I love you."

They were curled up under the covers, Nashville absently running fingers along the dips and curves of Hartford's stomach. He was exhausted, aching in all the best places, a dorky grin creasing his lips.

Fuck, that had been good. He'd needed that. A hard, fast, no-apologies round of fucking was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

Life was too short and too damn stressful to not get laid as often as possible.

Stretching, arms over his head, toes pointed, Nashville gave Hartford a sly grin before reaching over him to find his pants. Wherever they'd been thrown. "Smoke?"

Hartford was giving him a look, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Nashville couldn't resist the urge to lean down and drop a kiss to the crease in his forehead. The guy was adorable. And hot as hell. Which was not a combination Nashville would have thought would work together.

But Hartford...

Hartford definitely worked.

"What?" Nashville grinned as he sprawled across Hartford's chest, delaying his cigarette in favor of slow, deep kisses. Their tongues pressed together, Hartford's pushing into his mouth, stealing every breath. Nashville's moan was lost between them; Hartford's hands slipped up Nash's back, burying fingers in his hair. With a grin, Nashville nipped at Hart's lip. "Do you disapprove of my smoking after two very, very good orgasms? Because let me tell you, blondie, I--"

"I love you."

Nashville froze.

That was...definitely not what he'd expected.

What was he supposed to say?

Love just means that this is all going to hurt more.

You will leave because everyone does. Everything ends. Everything dies. Especially beautiful men with smiles like the sun.

Don't.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Because nothing he said was going to matter.

Instead Nashville dropped another kiss to Hartford's lips and grabbed his pack of cigs, sitting up to light one. 

"Give me ten minutes and then we're having round two," he muttered around the cigarette between his lips.

That was better than love. Love faded. Love was ripped apart. But sex? Sex was a pleasure that could live fully in a moment.

No one ever had their heart ripped out over just sex.

[agentnashville]

"I love you." //BC OF REASONS OK

They were lying next to each other, sprawled out under the stars, the observation deck deserted except for them. Montgomery had made his way through more than half a bottle of whiskey, and the dinner that Nashville had cooked was nothing more than empty plates now.

They'd been talking about stupid shit. Music - he preferred Mars Art New Rock, Montgomery was more interested in the Underground Retro Grunge scene - movies, childhood stupidity. First kisses, first fucks, the things they missed - burgers and sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass. Things soldiers always talked about. Idle chatter to fill in the spaces between dying.

They'd fallen silent, though, as the night wore on. As good food and the whiskey Montgomery had drank turned them warm and satisfied.

Shoulder to shoulder, they stared out at the stars.

And then, those words.

Nashville wished he could say they made him happy. That somewhere deep inside he had a part of himself that wanted that. That could handle that.

But whatever part of himself that Adrian had created, whatever part of his heart that he'd claimed and marked and made grow, it had been scooped out with his death. Nashville had nothing there, anymore.

He was hollow. There wasn't anything left in him that understood how to love like that.

But Montgomery was beautiful and smiling at him. And they could all die tomorrow. So instead of explaining why he couldn't, Nashville swallowed back his fear. He ignored the consequences entirely.

And he turned on his side, sliding fingertips along Montgomery's jaw. He couldn't say it back. He'd never be able to. But Nash could lean in, kissing him slowly, deeply. Smiling against his lips.

He couldn't do love. Not ever again. 

But this? This might be good enough. And that was something worth having.

[agentnashville]

"I love you."

They were side to side, chained to a damn wall. Nashville had always heard the Covenant didn't take prisoners. Not like you'd think. Not like you'd hope.

They weren't prisoners. They were meatsuits. Hunks of flesh that bled at the whims of monsters.

The Covenant did not torture. They brutalized.

He did not know how many others had survived the battle. He and Concord had been thrown into a cell that was barely more than a cave, chained to the wall, and left. For days, maybe? A week?

It was getting hard to keep track. To know day from night.

Concord was strong. Of course he was. The guy was practically carved out of military spirit. He'd said the first moment they'd been alone, in that calm, steady gravel of a voice, that the waiting would be the hard part. The Covenant had figured out how humans reacted to dark and damp and endless hours of nothing.

Far more effective, to soften the humans up ahead of time.

One thing Nash would say for the bastards. They learned.

There had been the sound of screaming, distant and unrelenting. The stink of blood and piss and fear. And Nashville knew. He just... knew. 

Today was the day. They were coming.

Somewhere along the line, Nashville had realized that he and Concord were holding hands. He highly doubted it was for Concord's benefit. No, it had probably started when Nashville had been sure he'd heard Richmond screaming.

Or maybe when the noise had stopped.

When Concord spoke, Nashville was pulled from his very important work of watching the door. The cold of the ground had seeped into his legs and back, his muscles clenched and painful. Blood was streaked across Concord's face, his arm held awkwardly at one side; Nashville had set it the best he could, but he wasn't a medic. And they sure as hell didn't have supplies.

He breathed out a laugh, the sound barely making it past his lips. "No, you don't," Nashville murmured.

One corner of Concord's mouth barely turned upwards. "No," he admitted. "But if I'm going to have last words, I've been thinking that maybe I want them to be something other than barking orders."

Studying his face, Nash shifted, turning towards him. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, free hand going out to lightly touch Concord's jaw. He tugged Concord to look towards him, giving the man a slow, broken smile.

"My name is Noah," he whispered.

Something softened in Concord's expression, just barely. "Jonathan."

Nashville - Noah, he was Noah, still, that hadn't been taken from him - leaned forward, brushing his lips across Concord's.

"It is really nice to meet you, Jonathan."

If he was going to die - and he was, Nashville had no hope for anything different - he wanted to feel one last warmth of closeness. He wanted to give that to someone else.

There was the tramp of footsteps, coming closer. This was it. There would be pain, unimaginable pain. And then it would be over.

"I wish I'd been braver," Noah whispered.

Jonathan shook his head, frowning. "You fought well--"

Cutting him off with another light kiss, Noah murmured, "That's not what I mean. Fighting is easy. It's obvious. I wish I'd been braver with you. I wish I'd figured out a way to know you, Jonathan."

The hard noise of footsteps stopped outside the door. And Noah smiled.

"I'll see you on the other side."