Untitled

[bloonfic]

just get home as soon as possible, okay!? - meme

Note: this is still part of ww au, when i mention in the previous bit that brad checks in every 6h, this is why. Potentiality triggering for anyone dealing with loss (no death in fic tho, just anxiety).

-

Three days of riding his bike west way too fast, sleeping in the open and living only on burgers finally got him to the point where he felt able to turn on his phone. He knew there would be a number of angry-understanding messages from Nate, but he counted on the "understanding" part. Nate had been there, he knew how much it fucked Brad up sometimes. Increasingly. When Brad got home, waited for a few days and then just repacked and left, Nate didn't like it, but he understood. Brad would always be back, he just needed to check out for a bit.

So when the messages started pouring in, and very few of them from Nate, his blood ran cold. He knew something was wrong straight away. Both the messages Nate sent him were from the first day. A "be safe" and "watered your cactus". After that, if was different pack memebers but mostly Ray, who didn't know that Brad did this regularly. They started worried, went all the way up to furious "where the fuck are you!?" and then, with desperation that had Brad shaking, "just get home as soon as possible, okay!?"

Three days. If he broke every law possible it would still take him two days back. He stared at the phone thinking if he should just call Nate's phone but he couldn't imagine what he would do if... so he just turned the bike around and stepped on it.

He stopped every few hours to turn on the phone and check his messages but for the first 24 hours he didn't hear from anyone. Then, around hour 33, when he turned it on again, a message came from Ray's number. "Ray says he's been blowing up your phone. I'm alright, had a little accident and my phone is no more, but I'm fine. Don't worry. Nate"

Brad felt his heart beating for the first time since he got back from the last tour. His hands were shaking and his wolf, after driving him crazy for days, finally seemed to quiet. He dialed Ray's phone.

"You absolute shithole." Ray greeted him.

"I know. How is he?"

There was a silence on the other side that Brad thought was meant to punish him but then Nate's voice came through. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're not fine," he heard Ray in the distance.

"What happened?"

"A car accident, some guy ran the red light. I got a few bruises."

"The car was totaled and he slammed his head into the window," Ray supplied.

Nate sighed.

"I'm sorry," Brad didn't know what else to say.

"It's alright," Nate's voice was understanding.

"It's not," Brad's conscience in form of Ray Pearson declared. "You don't fucking leave your pack like that..."

"Okay Ray you've made your point, please let me talk to him now," Nate said.

Brad heard Ray huff and a door close.

"It's alright." Nate repeated. "You couldn't have stopped it by being here."

"Where are you now?"

"The hospital, they were keeping an eye on me. But I'm going home tomorrow."

"I'll meet you there."

"Brad, you don't have to, honestly, I'm fine, don't let Ray guilt trip you..."

Brad laughed but it sounded like a sob and got Nate to stop talking before Brad could ask him to. "I don't need Ray to tell me when I fucked up, Nate. I'll meet you home."

"Alright," Nate said with a sigh. "Drive carefully though, one accident per pack weekly is enough, I think."

"I will," Brad lied. "See you soon." 'I love you,' he wanted to say.

"See you."

"I'm gonna kick your ass when I see you," Ray said from far away enough that Nate wouldn't hear him.

'Fair enough,' Brad thought.

[bloonfic]

I'm not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor

Tim found Brad next to a sink, smell of blood so thick in the air he ran to Brad's side thinking Brad was shot before he realized that was the last possibility these days.

He took Brad's hand and tilted it up to see a deep, long cut in the bottom of his palm bleeding profusely.

"This will need stitches, put some pressure on it, I'll drive you to the hospital."

He was turning away to find his keys when Brad grabbed him with his free hand. "I don't think so. You can stitch it up."

"I'm not doing field surgery on you at home." Tim couldn't believe how surprised he was that he was having this conversation. Of course Brad wouldn't want to go to a hospital over a cut.

"It's not field surgery, I know you have everything here, I've seen you do it, just do it."

"So first of all, no. Secondly, I don't even think I have everything I need for this any more. Third, you're bleeding on the floor."

"Shit!" Brad pulled his hand away and Tim didn't think about how weirdly cold his own fingers felt when Brad's hand wasn't there any more.

Brad grabbed some paper towels and threw them on the floor, then pressed a kitchen towel to his wound before he started cleaning the floor. When he was done, he turned back and studied Tim for a few long seconds. "What happened to your bedside manner?"

"What bedside manner? I'm a marine who patched people up for a bit. You're a grown ass marine who has a cut. I'm not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor."

"You helped Nate the other day," was what Brad chose to say.

"Nate sprained a wrist, he didn't bleed all over the house."

Brad scoffed but didn't move. Tim reached out again and set the towel better. Brad listened to enough of his lectures before, during and after the war that he knew how to tuniquet himself, but he didn't feel comfortable letting it be.

"Come on, let's go to the hospital and I'll hold your hand all the way there." He meant it as a tease but it came out overly fond, of course. Brad, the perceptive asshole, was watching him now, gaping wound all but forgotten.

"You and Nate," Brad said, like it was a full sentence, but also, like he had been waiting for an opening.

"Yeah well, you and Nate too," Tim could play the dumbass game if he had to.

"I mean, you evasive asshole," Brad stressed unfairly, "do you think he would mind if I kissed you?"

"You know the answer to that." Nate's exact words had been 'when are two gonna get your shit together?' And he probably didn't hide the sentiment from Brad either. Nate had no patience for their slow emotional development, but he never said anything in front of both of them, which Tim was grateful for. They needed their own time.

Brad smiled and stepped forward, lifted his hand to Tim's face and slid his fingers along the jawline. It was such 'a move', so cocky and obvious and Brad, that Tim was both charmed and amused. He tilted his head out of reach just a bit. "Not until you get stitched up though."

Brad rolled his eyes, but with a smile. "So if I let you take me to the hospital, we can revisit this conversation?"

"Exactly." Safety first, Tim thought jokingly. Civilian life was a riot.

"Well that are you waiting for then, go get your keys."

[bloonfic]

Well, that's tragic for the meme

"Well, that's tragic," Brad said before he shoved a fistful of bar peanuts into his mouth.

"He's doing his best," Nate replied. Brad was right though, Ray was striking out with three women at the same time in a spectacular fashion. What made it particularly impressive was that most of the women in this dive were here because they wanted to pick up Marines. And yet.

"This is why you should always set the payment upfront."

Nate had heard this particular monologue before. He was over it.

"No amount of Bacardi fucking Cola will make a woman think this inbred simpleton is worth her pussy. But you find the right kind of woman, you put a hundred in front of her, she's yours for the night to do whatever you want, no breakfast included. In Singapore..."

"How much," Nate interrupted, "would you pay me?"

Brad inhaled a peanut and started choking.

A few minutes later, with tears still in his eyes and his voice scratchy, he was trying to talk again. "What, with all due respect sir, the fuck?"

Nate leaned back and had a drink of beer to cool his thoughts. He had nothing to lose at this point. "How much would you pay me, for the night?"

Brad stared at him with half a smile thay said 'if you're joking, I'm ready to laugh.' But his eyes were assessing.

Nate left his face open. Why start hiding anything now, he thought.

Brad's face smoothed out as time passed and Nate didn't look away. "To do whatever I wanted?"

"No breakfast included."

Brad stared a while longer, but this time it was a familiar gaze. Like someone reading their favorite book and going for best parts only. Nate quite enjoyed the feeling.

"I'm not sure I can afford you, Nate."

"Have the Corps been underpaying you?"

"No I am generously compensated for my extraordinary skills."

"But you can't throw a hundred bucks at me?" Nate teased.

"A hundred bucks wouldn't get me past your finger."

It was Nate's turn to almost choke, on nothing. He thought 'I could do a lot of damage with a finger if you let me,' but he didn't have the air to say it. Brad saw it anyway, flushed in a way Nate never thought was possible, and tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"We can start with that," Nate finally said.

Brad swallowed what was left of his beer. "I might even throw in breakfast."

"Wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

"You could... make the next one."

[bloonfic]

Dealing With It

This wasn't the first time Nate's mission consisted 90% of waiting. The difference was, he wasn't a Marine any more and he had no one to blame for this but himself. He ran his fingers through the beautiful, almost golden hair of the wolf curled up against his thigh and felt him sigh. Brad's fur was wonderful. Coarse on top but warm and soft when Nate's fingers got deep enough, scratching the skin in all the best places.

With his other hand, he turned the page of the book he was trying to get through on his kindle, lit up by a small top light, but the book couldn't hold his interest half as much as Brad's satisfied snuffles did.

The forest they were sitting in was getting cold and humid, Nate could feel it on his nose first, but he knew his bones would join the party soon enough. There was no jacket, no trousers strong enough for sitting still in Maine forest in autumn. Just walking would get his blood running and warm him up a bit, but this wasn't about him being comfortable. This was about Brad getting one good night of sleep.

He'd been home for a week, Nate unwilling to prod him with words, only asking with his eyes and too soft touches, before he broke down. He got on his bike and didn't come back for two days, texting Nate every six hours with the punctuality of someone who had an alarm set, to confirm he was alive.

When he came back, he looked like he hadn't eaten the whole time he was away, on top of being deployment undeweight, and his knuckles were bloody, but no bruises were on his skin. Nate still didn't ask. He put him in the too small bathtub, made him a whole pot of pasta Bolognese, not home made, and sat on the floor next to the bath with the bowl and a fork.

"I think it's time to change the job," Brad finally said, his voice hoarse with unuse and dehydration. Nate nodded. The war was getting ugly, sides were getting blurred in a way Brad's moral compass couldn't handle and  the everyday drone of incompetence, carelessness and fear was taking a toll on Brad's mind and body. He was bouncing back slower, he cared less, he hated easier. Nate had seen it all and had been wondering, for a whole year before, if he would have to be the one to ask Brad to consider his options.

This was the harder way for Brad, but easier, Nate thought, for their relationship. He would have been the bad guy if he'd had to. But being the support was much easier.

"Are you going to hand feed me?" Brad had finally asked with a smirk, after a too long silence.

Nate shrugged. "If you want me to," he had said.

And it was there, in the tiny bath with Brad opening his mouth like it was a joke but not backing out at any point, that they both remembered the wolf. Hungry, lonely, battered wolf, who gave so much in every battle but was never allowed freedom, always held back by Brad's human side, military politics, ROE.

Brad shifted that night for the first time since he came home. He ran out and came back even more bloody than Brad's human form had been the day before. Nate clenched his jaw but washed him again, avoided the sad eyes and ignored the quiet whine. He wasn't angry. He was worried, and sad, maybe frustrated, but not angry.

Brad didn't shift back and Nate pulled him up on the bed, but soft beds were uncomfortable after months of graves and humvee seats and Nate woke up alone, to Brad making breakfast like he was looking to atone. Nate kissed him to show him there was nothing to atone for and Brad understood. He shifted again that night.

A few more days of restless pacing, nightmares and late night blood spilling from both Brad and the wolf, and Nate decided to go out with him.

That was how he ended up in a forest in the middle of the night, following an overjoyed wolf on a spectacular faliure of a hunt - Nate wasn't much help against deer, it turned out - and then a long run which eventually looped back towards their house bur before they broke the trees, Brad stopped and looked back at him, clearly not ready to go home.

Nate put his bag on a stump and pulled out a  space blanket and his kindle, showing Brad that he had prepared for this. He got a neck full of cold nose and muddy pawprints on his favorite jacket as thanks.

It took Brad far less time than either of them expected, to fall asleep. For a few minutes, his ears kept twitching and eyes opening to every sound, but eventually his breathing slowed down and Nate was sure he was out when even the kindle clicking didn't cause him to blink. It was the first time since Brad came back that Nate saw him peaceful. He rested his fingers in warm fur, felt the rib cage move. Then he pulled out a beanie from his bag. His bones could deal with it.