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As soon as the words were out of Brad’s mouth, he knew he’d fucked up.
Nate’s only reaction was the cessation of the knife against the cutting board.
Fuck.
That kind of controlled rage heralded Nate at his most cutting, his most unforgiving. It was a sign of Nate at his most hurt.
“You’ve known about this for how long?” Nate asked the question quietly, but the steel behind his words made every muscle in Brad's back tense.
“Only three weeks,” Brad replied, knowing his backpedal was obvious. Especially to Nate.
It wasn’t like Brad was going to make the decision on his own. He’d planned on consulting Nate. Hell, this conversation was his first step in trying to do that. It’s not like this shit was easy for him. Nate knew that.
Shouldn’t the fact that Brad had lowered his guard enough around Nate, that he hadn’t thought to choose his words very, very carefully, count for something? He’d been more in the moment of helping Nate with dinner, than he had been thinking about what he was saying. Shouldn’t that matter?
“Three weeks?” Nate’s spine was stiff and straight.
“Yeah,” Brad’s reply was glum.
Nate nodded once in confirmation, then resumed chopping.
Brad sighed.
“When were you planning to tell me?” Nate asked, still not turning to look at Brad.
“I was bringing it up now, so we could talk about it,” Brad answered. It was the truth, too. He knew he couldn’t make decisions just for himself anymore. Nate needed to be consulted in matters like this.
Brad couldn’t help that this was still difficult for him. He glanced over his shoulder at Nate’s rigid posture. He should probably say that out loud to Nate.
He turned back to what he was doing, and stayed silent.
By the time dinner was ready, Brad wasn’t hungry anymore. Nate hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t snapped at Brad. He also hadn’t spoken, beyond issuing instructions. Nate hadn’t looked at Brad, and he sure as fuck hadn’t touched him.
It was killing Brad by degrees.
They sat down to eat in silence. The whole thing was tense and strained, and totally fucked up. Brad had drawn breath several times to try to explain himself, but he’d never managed a single word.
Nate had raised an eyebrow a time or two, but hadn’t pushed.
Neither of them ate much.
“I have some work to do,” Nate said into the excruciating silence, startling Brad, “and then I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.”
Brad shut his eyes, clenched his jaw, and reluctantly nodded his acquiescence.
“Tomorrow, I think you should bunk at the BEQ, until we sort this out, one way or the other,” Nate continued, gathering up their dishes as he spoke.
And that told Brad just how badly he’d fucked this up.
~*~
“Okay, Brad, enough of this pouty, emo, tween, bullshit,” Ray said, stopping all other conversation at the table. “It’s not the five beers that gave you away, it was the three tequila shots. Tell your ole pal Ray-Ray what’s wrong.”
Brad took a long drink of beer number six. He stayed silent.
“Where’s Nate, Brad?” Rudy asked the question in a way that made it completely rhetorical.
“You didn’t call to let him know you were comin’ out with us,” Poke said, watching Brad closely from across the table. “You haven’t checked in with him once, since we been here. And, he ain’t called or texted to find out where the fuck you are, dog.”
“Whadya do to piss him off, Brad?” Ray asked. He grunted, but otherwise ignored the elbow Walt delivered to his ribs.
“I didn’t do shit,” Brad snapped. “He did what they all do. He just sucked me in further, before he did it.”
“There are two sides to every story, Brad,” Rudy said, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar. “Rarely do we walk a road we have not paved for ourselves.”
Brad shook his head, denying Rudy’s words and the truth behind them.
“Did one of you say something? Not say something? Or did one of you do something?” Poke asked.
Brad finished his beer and looked around for the waitress. “Anybody else want another shot?”
“Dawg, you have had enough to drink,” Poke said, uncharacteristically serious. “You repressed white boys, keepin’ all that shit bottled up, like it makes you strong.”
“Come on, Brad, let it out,” Ray said, clapping Brad on the shoulder. “Yell, stomp your feet, have a good cry. You’ll feel better.”
“Jesus, Ray,” Walt said, suddenly, “he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. If he wants to.”
“Our fears lose their power over us, once we give them voice,” Rudy chimed in.
“Nate’s level-headed and reasonable, Brad.” Poke took his turn in this conversational round-robin.
The waitress came and took their drink orders. Everyone ordered another round. At least they had Brad’s back.
“Okay, now I just wanna know what happened, cause I’ma nosey fuck,” Ray blurted. “I was concerned before, Brad. Now I just want somethin’ to gossip about, and this seems like a goldmine of scuttlebutt.”
“Shut up, Ray, or I’ll help Brad kill you,” Walt intervened.
“I …” Brad began, then froze. It was just like when he’d tried to talk to Nate. “I’m eligible to go afloat, again,” he finally confessed. “The Pearl Harbor, out of San Diego. It would mean recon missions, again. I’d be diving again.”
“Nate doesn’t want you to take it?” Walt asked, sounding incredulous.
“You put in for it without consulting him, didn’t you?” Poke asked.
“No!” Brad protested. “But he thinks I did.”
“And why is that, brother?” asked Rudy.
“When I brought it up, so we could talk about it, I didn’t explain it right.”
“Did you even try to clarify yourself?” Poke asked.
Brad shook his head.
“Did Nate lose his shit?”
“No, that’s what scared me,” Brad confessed. It was easier now, halfway through his seventh beer and fourth shot. “He got quiet. When he talked, it was real soft. He said everything fast, clipping his words.”
The group nodded their understanding.
“Fuck, dawg,” Poke sighed.
“What do you want to do, Brad?” Walt questioned.
“I’d love to take the posting. I’d love the challenge. I want the missions.”
“I hear a ‘but’.”
“I’d rather stay right where I’m at, unless we could come up with a workable solution.”
The waitress came by and Brad ordered another round. The rest of the group protested.
“Fuck it,” he declared. “I’m takin’ a cab back to base. No one there to get pissed cause I come home stumblin’ an’ loud. Nate ain’t there, so I don’t have to worry ‘bout gettin’ my dick up.”
The entire group erupted into a cacophony of bewilderment, disbelief, and anger.
“He kicked your sorry ass out?” Ray crowed.
“Wait, dawg, you’re stayin’ on base?” Poke demanded.
“Your chakras are completely out of balance, Brad,” Rudy murmured.
“No, Brad, no,” Walt shouted over Ray’s disjointed rant about the end of the world. “Have you ever said to him what you just said to us.”
“He didn’t want to hear it,” Brad said, just before knocking back his tequila.
“I am seriously close to killing you my own damn self, Brad,” Poke said, obviously angry.
“What would you say to him, right now, if he was here?” Rudy asked. “If you could say anything you wanted, right now, what would it be?”
Brad considered for a moment, organizing and prioritizing his thoughts. It was all a little tougher, given the alcohol haze he was currently functioning in.
“I would tell him about the job, an’ how much I’d like to take it. I’d tell him that I wan’ ‘im to understan’ and sympathize. I wan’ ‘im to make suggestions about how we could work it out, even though we both know the suggestions aren’t gonna work.”
Brad paused and drank some of his beer. “I’d tell him it didn’t matter, I was takin’ orders right here. I wanna stay right here, where he is.”
“Fuck it, let’s go.” Poke stood up and started gathering his things.
Brad watched in confusion as everyone else followed suit.
“What? Wait. Why?” Brad had lost track of what was happening.
“We’re takin’ you home, bro,” Poke explained. “You’re gonna tell Nate what you just told us. If he don’t wanna listen, the four of us outta be enough to put him into four-point restraints, so he has to listen.”
“I think I gotta bag we can use as a hood, in the trunk of my car,” Ray offered.
“If not, I got lotsa duct tape.”
“No,” Brad raised his hands in protest, as Rudy tried to haul him up from his chair. “If he cared ‘bout what I had to say, he’d ‘ave asked for clarification.”
“The strong and silent bullshit will only get you so far, Brad,” Rudy countered. “Sometimes you gotta man up and tell the ones you love how you feel.”
~*~
“Nate! Nate Fick! Nathaniel Christopher Fick!”
Nate sat straight up in bed. The shouting of his name, in what sounded like Brad’s voice, had shoved him out of whatever dream he’d been having.
The unmistakable noises of car doors, opening and closing, sounded from outside. Nate also thought he heard hoarse whispers and muted shouts.
“Nate Fick, I know you’re in there!” Nate scrambled out of bed. That really had been Brad. This wasn’t a dream.
“I know you’re in there, and you’re gonna fuckin’ listen to what I have to say!”
Nate parted the blinds on a window. Brad sounded drunk. The motion sensor had kicked on the front porch light, so Nate had a clear view of a swaying Brad, standing on the front lawn. Arrayed behind him, were Ray, Walt, Poke and Rudy.
This was about to get ugly. Brad had shown up drunk, pissed off, and apparently with drunken reinforcements. He pulled up the blinds, ready to open the window and threaten them all, just so they’d get the fuck off his lawn. Nate suspected it was too late to accomplish all of this without waking everyone else on the street.
Nate startled when Brad began to sing.
“I, I was the lonely one
Wondering what went wrong
Why love had gone
And left me lonely.”
At the sound of the first line, belted out at the top of Brad’s impressive lungs, Nate unlocked the window and slid it open.
He could hear the desperate conversation taking place on the lawn below.
“Oh fuck.”
“He’s not supposed to sing.”
“Shut him up, Ray.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
“He’s gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”
“I, I was so confused
Feeling like I'd just been used
Then you came to me
And my loneliness left me.”
Nate leaned out of the window, wondering if this wasn’t one of those dream scenes from that confusing movie Brad had made him watch.
Brad’s singing skills were questionable when he was sober. Now, standing on the front lawn, arms spread wide, it was awful.
“I used to think I was tied to a heartache
That was the heartbreak
But now that I've found you.”
If Nate hadn’t heard the song played ad nauseum, he wouldn’t have recognized it. Brad’s voice might have been in the tenor range, but as he stood shouting the emotionally wrought lyrics up at Nate’s window, it was nothing more than a series of high-pitched cries. His voice cracked on every third word.
Nate didn’t know whether to be horrified, or incredibly touched.
“Even the nights are better
Now that we're here together
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
At this point, Rudy and Ray stood behind Brad, apparently holding him upright.
“Fuck it, he’s not gonna stop.”
“You guys keep an eye out for cops.”
“He’s gonna wake the whole fuckin’ neighborhood.”
“Nate’s gonna kick him out for good, after this shit.”
“You, you knew just what to do
Cause you had been lonely too
And you showed me how
To ease the pain.”
That last set of lyrics captured Nate’s attention. He’d thought Brad was here on a drunken mission to anger, and humiliate, him.
Maybe not.
It didn’t help that Brad’s attempted serenade was more of a military marching cadence.
“And you did more
Than mend a broken heart
Cause now you've made a fire start
And I, I can see that you feel
The same way.”
Poke and Walt stood on the sidewalk now, ostensibly standing guard, while Rudy and Ray watched Brad’s back.
Brad’s voice became particularly high pitched. Neighborhood dogs began to bark and howl.
“I never thought there'd be someone to hold me
But then you told me
And now that I've found you.”
Nate didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Leave it to Brad Colbert to declare his undying love with an Air Supply song, sung at the very top of his lungs.
In public.
In the dead of night.
“Even the nights are better
Now that we're here together
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
Nate was smiling now. He burst out laughing. Brad was humiliating himself, in front of his brother warriors, in front of the neighbors.
If that wasn’t love, Nate realized he had no idea what was.
“Even the days are brighter
When someone you love's beside ya
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
Nate could see some of the neighbors watching from their windows, lights still dark, so they went almost unnoticed. In other houses, lights were beginning to come on.
Brad launched into another chorus, and Nate knew he had to do something. He sprinted out of the bedroom, and took the stairs two at a time.
“Even the nights are better
Now that we're here together
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
Tearing open the front door, Nate hit the front porch just as the marked patrol car rolled up. Poke and Walt did their best to reassure the uniformed police that everything was really okay, the show would be over in just a second.
“Even the days are brighter
When someone you love's beside ya
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
Nate crossed the damp grass in his bare feet. He pressed himself to Brad’s body, surprised by the heat that radiated from him. He grasped Brad’s face between both of his hands.
“Brad, Brad, I’m here. You can stop singing now.”
Brad seemed to focus on him. At least he stopped singing. “Nate?”
“Yes, I’m right here. You can be quiet now.”
“Is everything okay, here?” asked one of the cops, slowly approaching the group standing on the lawn.
“We drove our drunk friend home, officer,” Rudy said, the paragon of reasoned calm. “He spontaneously broke into song as an expression of love.”
Brad’s hands gripped Nate’s waist. “Nate. I don’t wanna move to California. I just wanna stay here. I wanna stay with you.”
“And I want you to stay, Brad,” Nate reassured him, wondering how much of this Brad would actually remember in the morning. “But right now, I need you to come inside. Quietly.”
“I didn’t take the posting, Nate. I’m not gonna. I just wanna talk about it.”
“Then let’s go inside and talk,” Nate agreed, shifting to get his shoulder beneath Brad’s, taking his weight from Rudy and Ray.
“Sir?” one of the uniforms addressed Nate. “Does this man live here?”
“Yes, he does,” Nate assured him with a smile. His own exit from the house in sleep pants and a tank top must have clearly indicated Nate belonged here. “He’s an exuberant drunk, and I apologize.”
“Do you know these other gentlemen?”
“Yes, I do. They all served in my Marine platoon in Iraqi Freedom,” Nate said brusquely. “We’re all still friends.”
“Not Ray. Ray’s not my friend,” Brad declared.
“Yes, sir,” both cops smiled slightly, posture relaxing. “Please just keep him quiet, so we don’t get called back out.”
“I promise. Have a good night.”
Oh, Nate was not letting Brad live this one down. Ever.
~*~
Brad awoke to quiet singing.
“I, I was so confused
Feeling like I'd just been used
Then you came to me
And my loneliness left me.”
He recognized Nate’s voice. Somewhere close to him. Probably next to him, in bed.
“I used to think I was tied to a heartache
That was the heartbreak
But now that I've found you.”
Brad knew this song. He really liked this song. Funny that Nate was singing it. It always made him think of how he felt about Nate.
“Even the nights are better
Now that we're here together
Even the nights are better
Since I found you.”
Nate, the fucker, was singing Brad’s favorite song, pitch-perfect. He really hated Nate.
“You, you knew just what to do
Cause you had been lonely too
And you showed me how
To ease the pain.”
No he didn’t. Brad most certainly did not hate Nate. He was going to open his eyes and tell Nate that very thing. He was going to open his eyes, roll over and tell him.
Just as soon as the pounding inside his skull stopped.
“You, you knew just what to do
Cause you had been lonely too
And you showed me how
To ease the pain.”
Wait. Nate had kicked him out. He was supposed to be staying in the BEQ.
How the fuck had he ended up in his own bed? With Nate. Singing.
“And you did more
Than mend a broken heart
Cause now you've made a fire start
And I, I can see that you feel
The same way.”
He remembered going out with the guys, last night. He ordered tequila and beer. They asked him what was wrong, then threatened to drag him home to Nate.
“Nate?” Brad croaked, wincing at the sound of his own voice, and the way it felt like a jackhammer inside his skull.
“Yes, Brad?” Nate said. His voice was soft. Gentle. Brad could hear the humor and affection. What the fuck had he missed?
“How the fuck did I get home?”
“Ray, Walt, Rudy and Poke brought you home last night.”
Brad would have to thank them for that. “You let me come home?”
“After that impressive display? You bet I did.”
Brad wanted to open his eyes and see if Nate’s expression held any clues. He was just afraid the room was still spinning. “What impressive display was that?” he asked.
Not that the answer mattered. He was home. With Nate.
“You, standing on the lawn at one a.m., singing Air Supply up at my window. At the top of your lungs.”
Brad’s eyes snapped open on their own. “The hell I did.”
“You did.” Nate’s expression was filled with humor. Brad could detect no deception.
“I would never,” Brad protested, even as the pounding in his head threatened to overwhelm him.
“You did,” Nate insisted. “I have your friends, all of the neighbors, and two Reston uniformed police officers as witnesses.”
Brad closed his eyes and threw his arm over his face. “Fuck,” he moaned. He didn’t even have to guess what song he’d chosen.
He felt Nate shift in the bed beside him. He heard Nate’s breathing beside him on the pillow.
The whisper was so soft, Brad almost didn’t hear it. “I love you, too.”