THAT’S A BINGO, FOLKS. With a whole day to spare! :D Technically this fills the free space on my bingo card, but shout out to @astreetsussserenade for helping me settle on a prompt when I wasn’t sure what vibe to go for. She suggested sneaking around, oblivious, leaving notes or caught red handed. I feel like at least a couple of those come into play here....
“Oh hey, before I forget—”
Ray pulled away from the kiss, which proved to be more challenging than he would have expected. He was caught between the couch cushions and Nate’s body, and their legs were intertwined, and Nate’s arms were bracketing his head, so he really didn’t have much space to maneuver in. He succeeded by allowing his whole body to go limp, with his head flopping back against the couch.
“What?” Nate asked in a breathy voice. Ray poked him in the chest.
“We can not tell Brad.”
“Oh, definitely not,” Nate reassured him, planting a series of tiny kisses to Ray’s cheek and jaw, which was just adorable. “I’m not looking to get murdered.”
That was backwards. Ray frowned and was going to correct him, but Nate inclined his head and kissed him again, soft lips coaxing his mouth in a response, and he went weak at the knees. It took a couple of minutes to remember what they had been talking about, and then another thirty seconds to work up the will power to turn his head.
“No, I’m totally the one he would murder. Brad, like, worships you, dude. The idea of me sullying you with my hillbilly germs would totally piss him off.”
“Please.” Nate rolled his eyes. “Brad doesn’t mean half of what he says. When the chips are down, you’re his best friend—if he knew we were dating, he’d give me the shovel talk to end all shovel talk, at the very least.”
Ray was distracted again as delight bubbled up in him.
“Wait, hold on, are we officially dating now?”
Nate looked at him with a confused frown.
“Yeah, of course. Ray, we’ve been on two dates now. What else did you think we were doing?”
“Going on dates is different than dating.”
“Oh my God, am I dating a middle school girl?”
“Oh, shut up,” Ray said cheerfully, and shut him up with his lips. “Seriously, though, homes, I don’t even want to hear the speech Brad would give about me corrupting you with my animal-fondling ways or whatever. Like, I know you’re a smart guy, but you’re way off-base on this one.”
“Sure, Ray,” Nate said in a mollifying voice, running a hand up Ray’s thigh. “Here’s an idea: let’s stop talking about Brad.”
Ray was more than happy to oblige.
It was almost a month before they actually got to put their theory to the test. A month of hiding their texts, lying to Brad about what they were doing and then coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies to cover up holes in their stories, and on two occasions physically sneaking out of windows half-dressed because Brad showed up early for prescheduled bro hangs.
They were strategic about the reveal. They invited Brad over to watch trashy action movies, acquiesced to all of his pizza topping suggestions, and plied him with beer. The credits were just starting to roll when Nate and Ray looked at each other and nodded. Nate cleared his throat.
“Brad, we actually—we, uh, have something we wanted to tell you. Ray and I—for the past few weeks—well, we’ve been getting to know each other better ever since we got back from Iraq, and about a month ago—”
“We’re fucking,” Ray interrupted.
Brad took a sip from his beer, looking between the two of them. He set the bottle down.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah—what do you mean, yeah?” Nate demanded.
“I mean, yeah, you are, obviously. Do you want a medal or something? I mean, congrats, I’m happy for you, whatever.”
Ray glanced at Nate, who looked just as dumbstruck as he felt.
“How did you find out?” he spluttered. Brad lifted his eyebrows.
“Hello, my name is Brad Colbert, and I’m a marine with the First Reconnaissance Battalion.”
“So you’ve known for a while?” Nate asked.
“Pretty much the whole time.”
“You never said anything!”
“I prefer to speak about personal matters as little as possible. Again, this seems like basic information I shouldn’t have to impart at this late stage in our friendship.”
“And you’re like—cool with it?” Ray asked slowly. “You’re not going to, like, lecture us or…?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Stuff.”
“I’m reasonably certain you can figure out sex on your own. Safe sex, even. The internet is a wonderful resource. Beyond that…” Brad’s face softened just a little bit. He fixed his eyes on the scrolling credits to preserve his reputation. “You’re both good guys and I like you and I hope you’re happy together.”
“Awwww,” Ray cooed.
“Thanks, Brad,” Nate said warmly. Brad shrugged and took another sip from his beer.
“Although honestly, I think you both could do better.”
It was sort of like a modified truth or dare. Of course Ray had started it, and Rudy had said it was a good idea. Something to keep their minds off of all the shit. Most of 2nd Platoon was squatting in a huge knitting circle by Ice Man’s humvee, listening or jeering when appropriate.
Tim absolutely 100% did not want to contribute. No matter how much shit Ray and the guys gave him. He was a private guy, first of all. Second of all, once you started talking about back home, you’d start associating it with the fucking desert, and why the fuck would anyone want to do that?
“Fuck, doc. We know you had one. The devil dogs are all fuckin’ hot,” Ray joked as he elbowed Tim in the ribs.
“We don’t even care if it was a dude, dude. It’s just that it’s your turn,” Q-Tip said, his legs crossed under him like he was a kid in some kindergarten class.
“Look y’all, as fun as this has been, I’m going to catch some shut eye,” Tim said as an excuse to make his exit. He stalked back to his own tent, annoyed that everyone else had been willing to share so much about themselves. They were in a fucking war, and he was still working on his resistance ‘stache, and he wasn’t going to let himself be lulled into some false sense of comfort. Hell, he had up and joined the Navy and traveled halfway around the world to get away from his hometown, so why talk about it now?
However, as soon as he got back to his tent, all he could think about was the proverbial elephant in the room.
If you sign up during the month of May, you will receive a personal, randomized 5x5 BINGO card. During sign up you will pick five relationships and/or characters which will serve as the B-I-N-G-O at the top of the card. The spaces will have tropes/AUs/prompts, with a “free space” in the center.
Your goal is “fill” spaces by creating a fanwork using the relationship/character and prompt. This must be a new, previously unpublished fanwork which primarily focus on the relationship/character and prompt for that square. Fill enough squares to get a BINGO!
This fanwork event is a game. You are not competing against fellow fanwork creators, but simply against yourself. You decide how much or how little you want to achieve.
Eligible fanworks and fill requirements:
Fic - 500 words
Must be new work; cannot be previously posted anywhere
Can be a sequel/prequel/timestamp/etc, but should be able to stand on its own
You can link different fills together as a series, but each fill must be posted as in individual work (for example, cannot be all posted together as chapters in one fic)
Art - medium sized (around 400x400 pixels)
Podfic - 500 words
If you are reading a fic that is not your own you must obtain the author’s permission and include a link to the original work
Video - 30 seconds
Fanmixes - 10 songs
Must include a track list with a brief description of how the songs fill the prompt
Cover art optional
Relationships and Characters:
This event is for Generation Kill, which means that any canon character within the Generation Kill Universe.
Any two or threesome of canon characters. Threesomes count as their own unique relationship.
HBO War characters from Band of Brothers and The Pacific characters who aren’t in Gen Kill canon can be paired with Gen Kill characters.
Characters: In lieu of selecting a pairing, you can put in just one character. You may either then ship that character with whoever you want or focus on the character themselves.
In your signup you must list 5 characters/teams/relationships. This list will be randomized.
Prompts:
The 24 prompts (plus free space) will be randomly selected from the Prompts Masterlist. The free space will be left blank, which means that you can choose the prompt you want to put there, but it must still come from the masterlist.
if you message me requesting a change to your card I will do it, no questions asked.
If you’re struggling with a prompt, you can always try thinking of it in a different way, nearly all of the prompts could be interpreted in a variety of ways (“detention” could mean a high school AU where the characters are kept after school, or it could mean a canon-compliant fic where the characters are “detained” in prison; “baby animals” could mean that the characters adopt a litter of kittens, or that they get magically transformed into baby animals; or any other number of options). A prompt can also always be the lack of itself, for example “cuddling” could be about someone wanting more cuddling than they are getting, or someone who is touch averse and does not want any cuddling; the sky is the limit!
So how do I declare a BINGO?
You will make a tumblr “masterlist” with links to each fanwork that applies to the BINGO you’re declaring. I will reblog your masterlist post, and include your BINGO on the round up post at the end of the BINGO.
If you finish your first Bingo Card and would like another, contact me and I can potentially get you another card.
I signed up for the Generation Kill Bingo way back in May and then... did nothing for three months. the idea is for August to be MEGA-PRODUCTIVE, so we’ll see how this goes.
“Dog, seriously, you got to get going.”
“For the last time, do not call me dog in bed,” Brad corrected. He interlaced his fingers behind his head and stretched out against the sheets. In his own home, Brad didn’t indulge in petty luxuries like 600-thread count sheets or down-feather pillows, but he was more than willing to enjoy them on one of these visits. “And why are you so eager to have me gone? Can’t you give me one fucking minute to enjoy the afterglow?”
“I don’t know how much you’re enjoying it, if you’re already snapping like that,” Poke said dryly. He had already put his boxers back on, and was slipping a soft grey t-shirt over his head. “Gina and the girls are going to be home soon.”
“I thought Carlie had dance lessons?” Brad yawned.
“Nah, those are tomorrow. Gina took ’em to some art museum.”
“Art museum? You’re going to have some bougie-ass kids, Tony.”
“Says the guy whose parents own a fucking art museum.”
“It’s one painting.”
“Ask me how many paintings my folks own that are hanging in fucking museums, Colbert. Go ahead, ask me.”
Poke stood and pulled his jeans on, still talking in that way he did when he was thinking of building up into a rant. On a good day, Poke could go toe-to-toe with Ray Person in a rant-off. Brad found it endearing, because he had terrible taste in friends. Or in… whatever Poke was.
“We’re not even going to get into the level of bougie you need to be to buy a painting for what, five figures, and hang the damn thing in a museum instead of your own living room,” he continued. “That’s a whole different kind of narcissism right there.”
“Oh yeah?” Brad said. He pushed himself into a sitting position and met Tony’s gaze with a challenging eye. If he played this right, he could level this into another round of making out. “And when you and your friends got your hand on some quality spray paint, you put all your ‘art’ in your own living room, right? No need to show it to the world? It’s a civic contribution.”
“Bro,” Tony laughed. “Did you really just compare your parents buying a painting to a bunch of dumbass fourteen-year-olds tagging a convenience store with the word ‘pussy’ and their made-up gang handles? Seriously?”
“Don’t call me ‘bro’ in bed, either.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want, you dumbass white boy.” Poke put a hand on the back of Brad’s head and urged him up for a kiss. Success. “Besides, I’m not in bed.”
“We can change that very easily.”
“Too late. That’s the garage,” Poke said as a faint reverberation rumbled through the house. “Put your pants on.”
Brad conceded with a sigh. He tried to dress as quickly as possible, but not quick enough—the bedroom door opened when his shirt was still halfway over his head.
“Brad!”
“I thought you weren’t going to be home for another half hour,” Poke explained apologetically.
“Hey, Gina,” Brad said as his head poked out from his collar.
Poke had stepped closer to kiss his wife on the cheek, but Brad kept his distance with an awkward wave. He still had no idea how this thing was supposed to work between the two of them. Gina was just as warm and affectionate as she had been before he started sleeping with her husband, if not more so, but they had never had a heart-to-heart about it, and he was happy to keep it that way.
“I was wrong about the hours; the museum closes at five-thirty, not six. You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t planning on it—”
“Is Brad here?!”
Well, shit.
Brad stepped into the hall; Carlie had yet to actually see him in her parents’ bedroom, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. With the ease of long practice, he squatted down and immediately straightened, with the oldest Espera tossed over his shoulder and giggling fiercely. Her sister waddled after her, but Izzy was still getting the hang of running, and he had another minute before she caught up. He turned to face Gina and Tony, the former of whom was also laughing quietly into her hand, and the latter of whom was looking at him with that little crooked smile and those dark velvet eyes that made it so hard to categorize whatever they had into a basic friends-with-benefits no-strings arrangement. Gina’s question was still hanging in the air, and Brad gave in, like he always did.
It started while he was still in Iraq. The nightmares. The days started to run together and he totally lost all semblance of a normal sleeping pattern, and it became more and more difficult to fall asleep. He had finally drifted off that evening, jammed into the backseat of the humvee, when a loud bang off in the distance shook the humvee. His body tossed and turned, and he felt more than saw a huge wall of waves crash into his body over and over again. But he couldn’t escape the water, no matter where he ran. He didn’t see anywhere to run, and there was no one to call out for. He felt helpless and alone.
Until a pair of strong hands shook him awake.
“Reporter! Man, I’ve been shouting at you for like 10 minutes. You seriously need to keep it together.”
Ray was standing outside the humvee looking down at him with his eyebrows raised, clearly concerned. Evan sat up, confused and disoriented. The humvee door was flung open, and he could see Trombley and Colbert peering over Ray’s shoulder at him. Even though it was dark, he could see their grim expressions.
“Why, what was I doing?”
“You were shouting, saying we were all going to drown.”
Shit.
“I’m sorry everyone,” he mumbled.
He was more embarrassed than anything, but he couldn’t fall back asleep until the pinks and oranges of the rising sun broke over the desert.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Ray is taking a break, trying to get his shit together, and his new routine includes visiting the same coffee shop every Sunday. And he's doing okay, until Walt Hasser shows up.
Written for the 10 year anniversary of Generation Kill Bingo. The bingo prompt was Ray/Walt: "coffee shop."
