fic: we blaze away - brad/ray
Dec. 18th, 2008 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityTitle: We Blaze Away
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Rating: PG-13
Words: 557
A/n: I swear, one day I'll write something over 1K. *headdesk*
“Give it to me, Brad.”
“No.”
“You’re not fucking funny, just give me the fucking Ripped Fuel.”
“You haven’t slept in thirty-seven hours, Ray. You are not getting another goddamn fix until I say you can. You need sleep.”
“Fuck you, I don’t fucking need anything except for you to give me that goddamn bottle of crack, you bitch ass motherfucker.” Ray jumps for Brad and misses, or rather, Brad takes a step to the left and Ray lands in the orange desert sand, dirt caked on his bottom lip when he looks up at Brad. “Come on.”
Brad squats on the ground next to him, his backside against one of the humvee’s tires and tucks the bottle of Ripped Fuel behind his boot. “No, Ray.” Brad says quietly and reaches out, brushing the dirt off of Ray’s chin with the back of his hand. “I need you combat effective.” His thumb tugs on Ray’s bottom lip, scraping the desert sand off the wet skin. “You haven’t slept in so long your reflexes are lacking and that shit could get you hurt.” Ray’s lips close around the tip of his thumb. “Or fucking killed.”
“Can’t sleep anyway, fucking bombs and arti and Captain America‘s pussy ass bullshit in my ear all fucking night,” Ray mutters when Brad slips his thumb away from his mouth, brushes off dirt and Ray’s spit on his MOPP suit. “People screaming all the time, dead fucking bodies everywhere, little girl with her legs blown off, who fucking wants to sleep, Brad?”
Brad reaches out and covers Ray’s mouth with his hand, staring at him wide-eyed and scared. He needs Ray, of all people, to be sane and effective, to be able to keep going. They’re on the fucking point of this invasion and if Ray goes, they all fucking go. But he can’t stand to see him like this either, and a part of him knows it for a completely different reason. “Hey,” he says, slowly taking his hand away from Ray’s mouth, letting it linger on his cheek for just a second. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Ray looks up, a faint smile tugging one corner of his mouth up. Just like that, he re-composes himself, puts everything back into the right place in the back of his head where he keeps the bad thoughts, like never seeing his mom again, or getting Brad killed because of doing something stupid, something like this. “Sorry, dude. I lost it.”
“Yeah, you did.” Brad says, mouth twitching like he wants to smile. “Are you going to fucking keep it together now? Because, and if you tell anyone I said this I will feed your testicles to you while they are still attached, I can’t do this shit without you.”
Brad’s not entirely prepared when Ray gets on his knees and leans forward, catching his mouth briefly, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, but its not completely unwelcome either.
“We’re all good now?” He asks, wiping the ring of wetness Ray left around his mouth away with the back of his dirty hand.
Ray grins as he unfolds his glasses, sliding them onto his face, not giving a shit that its zero dark thirty. “It‘s all good, brother.”
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Rating: PG-13
Words: 557
A/n: I swear, one day I'll write something over 1K. *headdesk*
“Give it to me, Brad.”
“No.”
“You’re not fucking funny, just give me the fucking Ripped Fuel.”
“You haven’t slept in thirty-seven hours, Ray. You are not getting another goddamn fix until I say you can. You need sleep.”
“Fuck you, I don’t fucking need anything except for you to give me that goddamn bottle of crack, you bitch ass motherfucker.” Ray jumps for Brad and misses, or rather, Brad takes a step to the left and Ray lands in the orange desert sand, dirt caked on his bottom lip when he looks up at Brad. “Come on.”
Brad squats on the ground next to him, his backside against one of the humvee’s tires and tucks the bottle of Ripped Fuel behind his boot. “No, Ray.” Brad says quietly and reaches out, brushing the dirt off of Ray’s chin with the back of his hand. “I need you combat effective.” His thumb tugs on Ray’s bottom lip, scraping the desert sand off the wet skin. “You haven’t slept in so long your reflexes are lacking and that shit could get you hurt.” Ray’s lips close around the tip of his thumb. “Or fucking killed.”
“Can’t sleep anyway, fucking bombs and arti and Captain America‘s pussy ass bullshit in my ear all fucking night,” Ray mutters when Brad slips his thumb away from his mouth, brushes off dirt and Ray’s spit on his MOPP suit. “People screaming all the time, dead fucking bodies everywhere, little girl with her legs blown off, who fucking wants to sleep, Brad?”
Brad reaches out and covers Ray’s mouth with his hand, staring at him wide-eyed and scared. He needs Ray, of all people, to be sane and effective, to be able to keep going. They’re on the fucking point of this invasion and if Ray goes, they all fucking go. But he can’t stand to see him like this either, and a part of him knows it for a completely different reason. “Hey,” he says, slowly taking his hand away from Ray’s mouth, letting it linger on his cheek for just a second. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Ray looks up, a faint smile tugging one corner of his mouth up. Just like that, he re-composes himself, puts everything back into the right place in the back of his head where he keeps the bad thoughts, like never seeing his mom again, or getting Brad killed because of doing something stupid, something like this. “Sorry, dude. I lost it.”
“Yeah, you did.” Brad says, mouth twitching like he wants to smile. “Are you going to fucking keep it together now? Because, and if you tell anyone I said this I will feed your testicles to you while they are still attached, I can’t do this shit without you.”
Brad’s not entirely prepared when Ray gets on his knees and leans forward, catching his mouth briefly, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, but its not completely unwelcome either.
“We’re all good now?” He asks, wiping the ring of wetness Ray left around his mouth away with the back of his dirty hand.
Ray grins as he unfolds his glasses, sliding them onto his face, not giving a shit that its zero dark thirty. “It‘s all good, brother.”
no subject
Date: 2008-12-20 12:08 am (UTC)