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aeroport_artThis update's been a long time coming, thanks for everyone's patience. Life just got super Drama Town lately, and I'm concentrating on other stuff. But I had this nice long Sunday cooped in with the rain, so here we go!
Also, feel free to concrit this section. I have trouble with meaty dialogue :P so if anything seems out of character or too sudden, help a girl out and tell me!
The West Coast Two-Step: Part One
MASTER POST
The West Coast Two-Step: Part Two
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
At the foot of the Embarcadero, backlit by a lone sconce by the door, is the silhouette of a man hunched over in wait.
At first Nate thinks it’s Brad, but the closer he gets, the more the shadow resembles Ray Person with his narrow frame, his constant twitchiness.
“Sir,” Ray says, clambering to his feet as Nate approaches. Ray’s still wearing his penguin suit from that evening, but his coat’s been shucked to the wooden floorboards. “Can I have a word?”
Nate inwardly sighs. He’s coming down from a long night of drinking, which means his head hurts, he’s irritable, and in no mood for Ray’s brand of energy right now.
“Unless it’s pertinent to our immediate mission,” Nate says, “I’m going to ask you to save it for the morning. It’s after midnight.”
Nate makes to move past, but Ray blocks him with a pointy shoulder.
“It’s pertinent.” Ray insists, before frowning up at the darkened sky like he’s thinking hard. “Well, sort of. I mean, not like, one hundred percent related to our objective, but it affects things and shit.” When Nate lifts his eyebrows, Ray spreads his arms and exclaims, “At least hear me out!”
Nate concedes with a nod. It seems easier than arguing.
“It’s Brad.” Ray says.
Nate frowns. “Is he all right?”
“Yeah. Well, no. Just…I just wanted to request, sir, that you go easy on him tonight.”
“You’ll have to clarify.”
“You’ll see when you get inside. Brad’s pissed. Like, huge-idiot and even-huger-asshole levels of pissed, and he’s taking it out on me. And then he’ll probably take it out on you. And you’ll probably want to strangle him, but don’t. It’s not his fault. He’s fucked up in ways beyond your wildest dreams, and like, deep down inside he’s just a little girl—“
“Brad is a grown-ass adult. If he can’t act like one, that’s on him.”
“That’s why I wanna explain!” Ray runs through his short hair with his hands, making an aggrieved sound. “He’d never tell you this unless someone brought it up, so I’m bringing it up.”
Nate crosses his arms. “By all means, Mr. Person.”
Ray scrunches his eyes up, like there’s sun in them. “Brad got dumped.”
Nate feels his heart stutter. “I wasn’t under the impression he was seeing anyone,” he says stiffly.
“Not now, I mean. Before. Back in Oceanside.”
“Oceanside, California?” Nate blinks.
“Yeah. Had a fiancée and everything.”
A woman? Nate almost asks, but he manages to trap the question before it can fly. Of course a woman.
Jesus.
“What happened?” Nate asks, almost fearing the answer if Ray’s solemn expression is anything to go by.
“Bitch married his best friend.”
The information takes a moment to sink in, Nate’s thought processes as sluggish as his body feels.
Brad had a woman in Oceanside—California, where Brad is apparently from. It’s so incongruous; Brad wears the Nevadan desert like a second skin. Can’t picture him on a beach, dipping in and out of seawater, wet sand on bare feet.
His arm around a girl, some slip of a pretty thing. What was she like—blonde, brunette? Was she quick and sharp, like Nate would imagine, or was Brad young enough—in love enough—that he didn’t care?
It doesn’t matter either way. She married his best friend.
“Shit,” Nate mutters. It kind of explains some things.
Meanwhile, Ray watches him with large eyes, and a thought belatedly occurs to Nate.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Ray rolls his eyes. “Because you have a hickey the size of China on the side of your neck, sir, and you reek of whisky,” he says. “Brad’s gonna notice. Hell, you’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice how puffy your mouth is right now—and then he’s gonna start crying invisible, Iceman tears, probably while being mean as a bitch to you. And I didn’t want you to go in there thinking that just because he’s hostile, that he’s okay or something.“
“I can tell when Brad’s okay or not,” Nate says automatically.
“Beg pardon, but you’ve only known him for a month, sir. I’ve known the asshole for eight fucking years,” Ray says hotly. “This isn’t just ‘not okay’, like you didn’t take him to see the circus. We’re talking shit-hot mess, here. You saw the way he left the restaurant. And if that wasn’t bad enough, now you come home looking like you spent the last hour getting soundly fucked by the town’s biggest queen—”
“You’re out of line, Person,” Nate hisses, crowding in. “I don’t know why you’re telling me about Brad’s love life, and I sure as hell don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate about our relationship. But you know what? We’ve all had a long night, and I’m going to conveniently forget we had this conversation. I advise you to leave it at that.”
Satisfied with Ray’s lack of a rebuttal, Nate pushes past and climbs the steps. It isn’t until he’s reaching for the doorknob, though, that Ray calls out.
“He’s in fucking love with you, sir.”
Nate feels the cold metal of the doorknob jolt through his fingertips, but everything else in his body goes numb. His pulse quickens; he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.
“Don’t you get what that means?” Ray yells, like he’s trying to provoke a response.
What that means, Nate repeats to himself, growing incredulous.
What does Ray know about love? In fact, what do any of them know about love? If Nate had the first clue what the word meant, he’d be settled down with some girl from Baltimore, producing a litter of young Ficks.
No, there is no fucking way Brad’s in love with him. Ray is just being dramatic, as he is wont to do, and if Nate wasn’t so fucking tired, he wouldn’t be letting it fuck with his head like this.
“Goodnight, Ray,” Nate finally says in a clipped tone. He pushes the door open and crosses the threshold of the Embarcadero.
Behind him, he hears Ray snatch up his coat with a muttered curse just before the door swings shut with a bang.
Also, feel free to concrit this section. I have trouble with meaty dialogue :P so if anything seems out of character or too sudden, help a girl out and tell me!
The West Coast Two-Step: Part One
MASTER POST
The West Coast Two-Step: Part Two
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
At the foot of the Embarcadero, backlit by a lone sconce by the door, is the silhouette of a man hunched over in wait.
At first Nate thinks it’s Brad, but the closer he gets, the more the shadow resembles Ray Person with his narrow frame, his constant twitchiness.
“Sir,” Ray says, clambering to his feet as Nate approaches. Ray’s still wearing his penguin suit from that evening, but his coat’s been shucked to the wooden floorboards. “Can I have a word?”
Nate inwardly sighs. He’s coming down from a long night of drinking, which means his head hurts, he’s irritable, and in no mood for Ray’s brand of energy right now.
“Unless it’s pertinent to our immediate mission,” Nate says, “I’m going to ask you to save it for the morning. It’s after midnight.”
Nate makes to move past, but Ray blocks him with a pointy shoulder.
“It’s pertinent.” Ray insists, before frowning up at the darkened sky like he’s thinking hard. “Well, sort of. I mean, not like, one hundred percent related to our objective, but it affects things and shit.” When Nate lifts his eyebrows, Ray spreads his arms and exclaims, “At least hear me out!”
Nate concedes with a nod. It seems easier than arguing.
“It’s Brad.” Ray says.
Nate frowns. “Is he all right?”
“Yeah. Well, no. Just…I just wanted to request, sir, that you go easy on him tonight.”
“You’ll have to clarify.”
“You’ll see when you get inside. Brad’s pissed. Like, huge-idiot and even-huger-asshole levels of pissed, and he’s taking it out on me. And then he’ll probably take it out on you. And you’ll probably want to strangle him, but don’t. It’s not his fault. He’s fucked up in ways beyond your wildest dreams, and like, deep down inside he’s just a little girl—“
“Brad is a grown-ass adult. If he can’t act like one, that’s on him.”
“That’s why I wanna explain!” Ray runs through his short hair with his hands, making an aggrieved sound. “He’d never tell you this unless someone brought it up, so I’m bringing it up.”
Nate crosses his arms. “By all means, Mr. Person.”
Ray scrunches his eyes up, like there’s sun in them. “Brad got dumped.”
Nate feels his heart stutter. “I wasn’t under the impression he was seeing anyone,” he says stiffly.
“Not now, I mean. Before. Back in Oceanside.”
“Oceanside, California?” Nate blinks.
“Yeah. Had a fiancée and everything.”
A woman? Nate almost asks, but he manages to trap the question before it can fly. Of course a woman.
Jesus.
“What happened?” Nate asks, almost fearing the answer if Ray’s solemn expression is anything to go by.
“Bitch married his best friend.”
The information takes a moment to sink in, Nate’s thought processes as sluggish as his body feels.
Brad had a woman in Oceanside—California, where Brad is apparently from. It’s so incongruous; Brad wears the Nevadan desert like a second skin. Can’t picture him on a beach, dipping in and out of seawater, wet sand on bare feet.
His arm around a girl, some slip of a pretty thing. What was she like—blonde, brunette? Was she quick and sharp, like Nate would imagine, or was Brad young enough—in love enough—that he didn’t care?
It doesn’t matter either way. She married his best friend.
“Shit,” Nate mutters. It kind of explains some things.
Meanwhile, Ray watches him with large eyes, and a thought belatedly occurs to Nate.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Ray rolls his eyes. “Because you have a hickey the size of China on the side of your neck, sir, and you reek of whisky,” he says. “Brad’s gonna notice. Hell, you’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice how puffy your mouth is right now—and then he’s gonna start crying invisible, Iceman tears, probably while being mean as a bitch to you. And I didn’t want you to go in there thinking that just because he’s hostile, that he’s okay or something.“
“I can tell when Brad’s okay or not,” Nate says automatically.
“Beg pardon, but you’ve only known him for a month, sir. I’ve known the asshole for eight fucking years,” Ray says hotly. “This isn’t just ‘not okay’, like you didn’t take him to see the circus. We’re talking shit-hot mess, here. You saw the way he left the restaurant. And if that wasn’t bad enough, now you come home looking like you spent the last hour getting soundly fucked by the town’s biggest queen—”
“You’re out of line, Person,” Nate hisses, crowding in. “I don’t know why you’re telling me about Brad’s love life, and I sure as hell don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate about our relationship. But you know what? We’ve all had a long night, and I’m going to conveniently forget we had this conversation. I advise you to leave it at that.”
Satisfied with Ray’s lack of a rebuttal, Nate pushes past and climbs the steps. It isn’t until he’s reaching for the doorknob, though, that Ray calls out.
“He’s in fucking love with you, sir.”
Nate feels the cold metal of the doorknob jolt through his fingertips, but everything else in his body goes numb. His pulse quickens; he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.
“Don’t you get what that means?” Ray yells, like he’s trying to provoke a response.
What that means, Nate repeats to himself, growing incredulous.
What does Ray know about love? In fact, what do any of them know about love? If Nate had the first clue what the word meant, he’d be settled down with some girl from Baltimore, producing a litter of young Ficks.
No, there is no fucking way Brad’s in love with him. Ray is just being dramatic, as he is wont to do, and if Nate wasn’t so fucking tired, he wouldn’t be letting it fuck with his head like this.
“Goodnight, Ray,” Nate finally says in a clipped tone. He pushes the door open and crosses the threshold of the Embarcadero.
Behind him, he hears Ray snatch up his coat with a muttered curse just before the door swings shut with a bang.
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-15 01:16 am (UTC)i made a bit of headway into the next inevitable brad/nate scene...i hope i have enough time to get more chapters out in the coming weeks :x i do love the story! just, ugh. RL sucks a hairy ball.
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Date: 2011-08-15 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-15 12:28 am (UTC)Ray is a motherfucking boss and this is great, as usual.
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Date: 2011-08-15 01:15 am (UTC)Ray really is the best mother hen ever <3
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Date: 2011-08-15 04:20 am (UTC)You're terribly mean. I may have mentioned on occasion.
It's fab, though. FAB. I don't even know what you want me to critique. I adore everything - from that gorgeous opening image to Ray trying to help to Nate shutting him down. LOVE.
and like, deep down inside he’s just a little girl—
HAA!!! I imagined Brad hearing that and about died laughing.
What does Ray know about love? In fact, what do any of them know about love? If Nate had the first clue what the word meant, he’d be settled down with some girl from Baltimore, producing a litter of young Ficks.
This was the one moment where I found myself wondering what was going on in his head. Like...okay, yeah, I'm still confused. Does he mean like a love=sacrifice thing where he should be doing his duty as a Good Son? Or did he leave someone behind because he didn't realize until it was too late?
No, there is no fucking way Brad’s in love with him. Ray is just being dramatic, as he is wont to do, and if Nate wasn’t so fucking tired, he wouldn’t be letting it fuck with his head like this.
I would like to sit Nate down and have a chat. Or just smack him. Because sure, Ray and hyperbole are old friends, but c'mon Brad's like the one subject he does treat seriously.
BOYS. They are very stupid.
This is very lovely. I still want more. Because I am very demanding like that.
::hearts you::
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:39 am (UTC)Does he mean like a love=sacrifice thing where he should be doing his duty as a Good Son? Or did he leave someone behind because he didn't realize until it was too late?
Hmm, I meant for that line to show how Nate still has a really conventional idea of what a Good Son is supposed to do. It's also part of why it's taking him longer to admit his feelings for Brad are real. This Nate is extremely wrapped up in doing what's "right", and sometimes he gets that mixed up with what's "socially acceptable."
I'll try and make it clearer once I re-post the completed fic with all its revisions.
BOYS. They are very stupid.
Hahaha oh god, this is such a recurring theme of mine. What does this say about me?? That I think all men are immature and dense? *shrugs* Maybe that's what it says about me, haha.
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Date: 2011-08-15 06:06 am (UTC)I hope RL unfubars itself soon.
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Date: 2011-09-07 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-16 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-16 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 02:41 am (UTC)