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Nate looked up from the file he was scanning as Toby Ziegler fell into step beside him.
“Congratulate your Marine for me when you talk to him next.”
“My Marine?” Nate suspected he knew whom Toby meant but he was determined to maintain plausible deniability.
“Well, Colbert and his entire Unit, actually.”
Toby handed Nate the sheets of paper he was carrying. Nate scanned it quickly and realized it was the most recent list of military medals being awarded. The last page was the list of Service Men selected by their particular branches to attend a medal ceremony at the White House. It was a cross section of the branches as well as medals awarded. There, in the center of the page, after the individual medals but before the rest of the units;
NAVY PRESIDENTIAL UNIT CITATION
For extraordinary heroism in action against armed Taliban forces. The unit accomplished its mission to infiltrate and destroy an armed fortress under such extremely difficult and hazardous conditions as to distinguish itself from and above all other units involved in the Battle of Ghazni.
COLBERT, BRADLEY SGT., MARINE CORPS
1st RECONNASENCE BATALLION, BRAVO COMPANY, 2ND PLATOON, 1st UNIT
CALIFORNIA, OCEANSIDE, PENDLETON
The names of Brad’s team from that mission were listed under his, only one of which Nate knew from his time in service.
Nate’s clearance made him privy to the details of the Battle of Ghazni. It had been fierce. He’d known Brad had been there, but he’d never known in what capacity. Brad played down his involvement, as he did in all things.
His blood ran cold at the same time his chest swelled with pride. The unit that had neutralized that fortress had turned the tide of the battle. They’d accomplished that mission against all odds. Brad had come home without so much as a scratch.
Nate could only blink up at Toby.
“You didn’t know that was his unit, did you?” Toby asked.
“No.”
“Have him come by before the ceremony so we can all meet him under less formal circumstances.” Toby started walking toward their offices and Nate followed numbly.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“This list is for the Secret Service to work their security mojo on all the recipients for the ceremony so his clearance will be automatic. There won’t be any problems.”
“It’s not that.”
“Nate, he was vetted right along with you. It’s not a problem.”
“It’s just that Brad’s … a Republican.”
“Yes, we know. After this,” Toby held up the list of medal recipients. “It’s about the only thing keeping him from being perfect. A tall, blond, blue-eyed, Jew war hero. You hit the lottery, my friend. Just don’t let CJ near him.”
~*~
“Hey.” Brad answered immediately.
“Hey,” Nate answered. “Your name was handed to me on briefing sheet today.”
“I don’t care what DOD says, I didn’t get past the first firewall.”
“I don’t want to know what prompted that confession. I need plausible deniability.” Nate hoped he was joking. “Is there something you forgot to tell me about Ghazni?”
The long silence was telling.
“We won and I came home.”
“So you don’t know about the medal ceremony, yet?” Nate prodded.
“What medal ceremony?” Brad’s voice had an edge now.
Nate sighed. Brad’s command really should be the ones to tell him this.
“Nate, what medal ceremony?”
“The one where you’ll receive the Navy Presidential Unit Citation.” Nate paused. “From the President.”
“Fuck.” Brad sighed.
“You can tell me how you earned this Citation when you get here for the ceremony.”
“I’m sure you already know the details, my name redacted of course.”
“And yet it leaves me wondering what you were thinking at the time.”
“Nate.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“If they’re making me fly to DC and participate in a self-congratulatory circle jerk with liberal hippy politicians who don’t know a Mark-19 from a Fifty Cal, I’m going to make it worth my own while.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m taking leave. I’ll stay an extra week or so after this fiasco. I’m going to become intimately acquainted with your townhouse and become intimately re-acquainted with you.”
“I don’t know how much time I’ll be able to spend with you.” Nate cautioned, disappointed already.
“I know. I’ll make do. I’ll bring you lunch a few times, you can give me a tour of the office, I’ll blow you in the Ova …”
“Brad!”
“Come on, Nate. It’s not like it hasn’t been done before.”
“Brad, I’m a Republican working for a Democratic administration. I have to be cautious.”
“They’re the liberals, Nate. They probably expect it of you.”
“You know that if you visit me here you have to be on your best behavior, right? And no t-shirts and jeans.”
“How about flip-flops?”
“Brad!”
“Are you gonna make me shower first?”
Nate sighed.
“You’re looking forward to it. Come on. Admit it.”
“Yet at the same time I’m dreading it.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m arriving.”
“Good. Talk to you soon.”
~*~
Nate's phone rang on his desk. “Nate Fick,” he answered.
“So professional.”
“Brad. Did you book your flight?”
“Yes, I did. Now I have to shop for clothing suitable for the arctic weather you have out there. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to set up a central government where the median temperature is closer to seventy than to fifty and no one has to shut down business to wait for the snow plow?”
“Don’t just shop warm, shop appropriate, as well.”
“Meaning?”
“We may go places or do things or meet with people where t-shirts with dirty slogans and board shorts won’t be appropriate attire.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Nate. I outgrew my bar-mitzvah suit.”
“I’m serious, Brad. If I bring you into my office, you have to be dressed appropriately.”
“I’m thinking black jeans and my motorcycle jacket. That’s semi-formal in California.”
“Tell me you’re not serious.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Nate. My mommy taught me to dress myself years ago. I did very well before I met you.”
“The majority of your clothing all looks alike; desert camouflage. It’s hard to get it wrong with a CO telling you how to dress each day.”
“Now you’re insulting my intelligence. I’ll call you when I’m done shopping, maybe you’ll be in a better mood.”
Nate hung up and sat with his head in his hands, worrying about Brad Colbert’s wardrobe choices.
~*~
Nate was face down in his own bed – for once – naked and sated. He curled himself around a pillow and watched Brad as he ran his fingers over the bare skin of Nate’s back. Brad was just as naked as he was, eyes heavy lidded and smiling slightly.
“Ready for tomorrow?” Nate asked, knowing Brad hated the pomp and circumstance he would be subjected to.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
“Yeah, well. I just did what they pay me to do.”
Nate snorted.
“So, I thought I’d come by your office early tomorrow.” Brad said, eyes challenging Nate.
“What did you bring to wear?” Nate couldn’t help asking that question. Brad had made his flight in his fatigues, like a good Marine traveling on Corps business. As Nate had promptly divested him of said fatigues as soon as they reached his townhouse – and not let him get dressed since - he’d not had a chance to see any other clothing Brad had brought.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I’ll just open your suitcase and select something for you.”
“My suitcase is locked for this very reason. As is the garment bag.”
“Fine. Then describe what you’re going to wear.”
“Nate, that is just so retarded.”
“What happens if I have to have dinner with someone from the Pentagon some night this week and I want to take you with me?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring my sidearm.”
“Brad, I’m serious.”
“I know you are. That’s what’s so adorable.”
“Just tell me what you have to wear tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Brad.”
“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Nate sighed heavily.
“Have I told you how much I missed you?” Brad asked, suddenly growing serious.
“I’d rather you show me.” Nate replied, smiling suggestively.
“Roger that.” Brad said as he leaned in for a kiss.
~*~
Donna appeared in the doorway of Nate’s office. “They asked me to tell you the car with your Marine just pulled up to the gate.” she said brightly.
“He’s not my Marine,” Nate argued. “Sgt. Colbert is a force unto himself.”
“Well, Sergeant Colbert will be at the designated entrance in a few minutes so you’d better hustle if you want to greet him properly.”
Nate left his office and Donna followed.
“What do you imagine a proper greeting is between a decorated Recon Marine Sergeant and his former Platoon Commander?”
“Handshakes and salutes,” Donna said quickly. “If that’s all it was.”
“Donna …” Nate started but found himself dragged bodily by the arm to a multi-paned window.
“We can see the car drop him off from here.” Donna said, avidly looking for a glimpse of Brad.
“You don’t have to spy on him, I’ll bring him around to meet you.”
“I’m doing reconnaissance on your Recon Marine.” Donna’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. “Is that him?”
Nate looked in the direction Donna was staring. Emerging from the Towncar and settling his pristine white cover on his head was Brad Colbert in his Class A uniform. Tall, broad, and perfectly pressed with polished brass sparkling in the morning sun, Brad was stunning. Nate’s dick wanted to go say ‘hello’.
Donna backed away from the window. “Oh, Josh is going to want to see this.” She turned and hurried down the hallway.
The only thing Nate could think of to do as Brad walked purposefully toward the entrance to the White House was go wait for him by the door.
~*~
Nate stood in the foyer and watched the wide French doors open outward. His breath caught in his chest as Brad strode up the steps to the veranda. The ubiquitous Secret Service Agents each nodded in Brad’s direction and when he reached the door, the ceremonial Marine door guards – dressed in their Class A’s - snapped to attention and delivered very precise salutes.
Sgt. Brad Colbert, resplendent in his own dress blues, paused to return the salutes with his white-gloved hand. He crossed the threshold into the White House and removed his cover, tucking it beneath his left arm just so.
Nate remembered to close his mouth just as Brad came to stand before him, expression austere but eyes alight with laughter.
“Good morning, sir,” Brad said with great formality.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” Nate replied, unable to stop himself from giving Brad a slow once over.
Josh Lyman chose that moment to cross the foyer and he called out to Nate, “Hey, Nate, Toby needs your brief before the ceremony … oh, wow.” Josh’s frenetic movements all ceased as he looked up at Brad. “Huh,” he said, after a few moments, and then turned to Nate. “Is he yours?”
“Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman,” Nate began the introductions. “Sgt. Brad Colbert. My former Team Leader.”
Brad extended his hand and shook Josh’s hand sharply. Josh stared up at Brad, mouth open slightly. “Has CJ seen him, yet?” he asked abruptly, turning back to Nate.
“He just got here, Josh.” Nate replied.
“So CJ hasn’t seen him.”
“When would CJ have seen him?”
“CJ needs to see him.”
“Everyone will see him at the ceremony.”
“Can I be there when CJ sees him?”
“Don’t we have work to do?”
“I need to be there when CJ sees him.”
Shaking his head at Josh, Nate gestured for Brad to follow. “My office is this way.”
Brad followed, highly polished black shoes clacking briskly on the hardwood floor until they reached carpet again. Nate was aware Josh was following.
“CJ’s in her office.” Josh said.
“And?”
“We can stop by on the way to your office and show her your Sergeant.”
“He’s not my Sergeant, Josh.”
~*~
(this segment written by shoshonnagold) "Carol, I need the McNulty file - Oh. Hello. Um. Hi. Who are you?"
"Ma'am."
Nate watched as CJ took in Brad, looking up and up, like it was a new experience for her. She straightened her spine and made herself taller.
"I'm CJ. CJ Cragg. I'm the press secretary."
"Yes, ma'am. I've seen you on tv." Brad smiled at her. "And Nate has told me about you."
CJ blushed. "Well, that was very nice of him. Assuming that he said nice things, of course. I hope he said nice things. Not that I want him to lie, just be truthful. That's all we can really ask of ourselves, isn't it? At least on the good days, which, you know, we don't have a lot of around here.... Excuse me, I hate to be rude, but who are you, again? And are you really that tall?"
~*~
(written by kahtyasofia) “Nate?” a firm female voice called out from behind him.
Nate stopped his rapid hallway march and turned to see Abby Bartlett striding toward him.
“Yes, Ma’am?” All Marine Officer training aside, the First Lady was someone Nate would always have called ma’am. Truth be told – she scared him a little.
“Where’s Jed?” she asked as she caught up to him and continued walking.
Nate had to work to catch up with her and he wondered how she set that kind of killer pace in high heels and a skirt.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Nate answered. “I don’t know where the President is. I would assume the Oval Office.”
“The last anyone saw him, he was wandering down hallways with your Sergeant, discussing the history of Marines in combat and effective battle strategies.”
“Due respect, Ma’am; Sgt. Colbert isn’t anybody’s. And if the President is with Brad, he’s at least as safe as he would be with any Agent and quite likely more entertained, as well.”
“Does your Sergeant like to encourage dissension in the ranks, Nate?”
“Sgt. Colbert is a career Marine, Ma’am. Discipline is primary to him.”
“Oh please.” Mrs. Bartlett actually smirked at Nate. “He’s a rebel in dress blues. I hear he had CJ all a-flutter.”
“Ms. Cragg and Sgt. Colbert did seem to get on well …” Nate’s sentence became superfluous when the First Lady burst into the Oval Office.
“Jed?” she called in a loud voice, heading for the veranda doors on the far side of the room. “Jed, are you out there with Nate’s Marine?”
“Mrs. Bartlett,” Nate started to protest, following her out the doors.
“Ah ha!” the First Lady stopped in her tracks, thrusting her hands onto her hips.
Nate followed her gaze and wished he had a rock to crawl under. Brad stood in all his Class A finery, white cover on his head, beside the President of the United States, smoking a cigar.
Mrs. Bartlett strode forward and plucked the cigar from the President’s fingers. “Jed, you know you’re not supposed to have these,” she berated him sternly.
Brad smirked around his cigar, raised an eyebrow at Nate, and then turned to look back over the garden.
“It was just a few puffs,” the President complained.
“A few is too many.”
“I didn’t even really inhale. Much.”
“That’s no excuse,” the she turned on Brad. “I’m sure you know he’s not supposed to be smoking these.”
“Madame First Lady,” Brad said with complete aplomb. “When an active Marine Corps Sergeant is offered a cigar by his Commander in Chief, he doesn’t argue.”
Nate clenched his jaw and closed his eyes in silent appeal for mercy from Abby Bartlett.
“I suppose not,” she said reasonably, much to Nate’s surprise. “Don’t forget you need to change for dinner,” Mrs. Bartlett said, returning her attention to the President.
“Yes, Dear,” the President said obligingly, turning to look at Brad. “Does he still order you around like this?” he asked quietly, inclining his head in Nate’s direction.
Brad’s eyes flicked up to Nate’s. “He tries.”
The First Lady spun on her heel and grabbed Nate’s arm, leading him back into the Oval Office.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Bartlett,” Nate said contritely when she’d snuffed out the cigar.
“Whatever for, Nate?” she asked, puzzled.
“For Brad’s behavior. He does sometimes like to see what kind of reaction he can generate from people.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Marine or no Marine, he couldn’t get Jed to do anything he didn’t actively want to do on his own. Your Sergeant might not have protested too much but he certainly didn’t instigate that little attempted palace coup.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I just hope this doesn’t reflect poorly on him. He’s …” Nate didn’t get to finish.
“Nate, that’s a wonderful man you have there. He’s a good man as well as a good Marine. The two of you seem to be very good for one another.”
Nate was stunned. “I don’t know what you mean, Ma’am.”
The First Lady smirked at him as she turned to walk away. “If that’s the way you want to play it, Nate …”