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Midterms are over for me, thank god! As has become fashionable in Generation Kill fandom, I have decided to do a snippet post. You are welcome to post a picture for any fandom I write in (SPN, Generation Kill, RPF, Glee, Never Back Down) and I will respond with fic. The two fics I have in the works are frightening me, but I am in a mood to write.

amberlynne has been threatening me with 17 requests for more Model!AU, so come participate so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway.

ETA: Oh, song of the day, "One Pure Thought" by Hot Chip, for you dirty-minded girls out there.

-Brad owning a winery for

amberlynne
-Ray's Wedding for

amberlynne
-Q-Tip Turning Up on Nate's Porch for

aboutademongirl
-Nate The Romance Novelist for

amberlynne and really, myself.
-Nate the Archeologist, Brad the wild mountainman for

amberlynne
-ASkar's epic love with Batman for

memphis86. Every time I type that, I laugh.
-Glee: Brokeback The Musical for

memphis86
-Model!Au: The first photoshoot after they fuck for

amberlynne
-Generation Kill Victorian!Au for

trolleys
-Model!AU: Brad finds school!Nate irresistable for

amberlynne
-Brad Visiting Nate At Harvard for

soul_cake_duck
-Alex taking Stark back to Sweden for

amberlynne

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so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway

I STILL DO NOT SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE A BAD THING? Except for how you said you would break them up or bring the end of days. :D

Okay, I'll just go easy on you with this gif I found yesterday. It doesn't even have to be models!AU!

I'm sorry you want me to write something about that? I CAN'T STOP STARING.

I knoooooooooooooooooooooooooooow. When I first saw it, I was just like ".....*whimper*"

I never said I was going to go EASY on you!

The engine light on Nate’s rental car starts flaring alarmingly on the 101 just south of Healdsburg. He’s due for a friend’s wedding rehearsal dinner in an hour and a half. He doesn’t have a date, which Amanda was bugging him about from the minute she sent him the wedding invitations, the shoddy rental is about to explode, and he doesn’t understand why anybody would have a wedding in this burnt out part of the country anyway.

He gets off at the first exit, burnt grass and highway detritus giving way to acres of vineyards. There’s a little turn off with a sign, and he pulls off in front of it.

“Jesus,” he says, getting out of the car to inspect the damage. The engine is smoking under the hood. He’d only had the car for two hours from the Hertz rent-a-car at San Francisco airport—if it could’ve just waited the last few miles to Healdsburg.

“Everything all right?” a voice comes from behind him.

Nate pulls of his sunglasses and turns around. Walking towards him with two rangy golden retrievers at his heels is a tree of a man. Nate knows intellectually the other guy can’t be that tall, but something about him just seems to take up space.

Nate scrubs at his face with his hand. He feels horribly out of place in his charcoal dress pants and cream dress-shirt in the face of the guy’s jeans and red t-shirt. “I’m sorry if I’m on your property. As soon as I call for a tow truck I’ll be out of your way.”

The man looks amused, slightly longish blond hair falling into his eyes. “Do you have cell reception?”

Nate pulls his blackberry out of his pocket and sighs. “Just my luck.”

“You’re fine,” the guy says, “I have a landline in the main house if you want to use it.”

He skirts past Nate up the driveway, the dogs following behind obediently. Nate swallows, watching the man’s jeans mold tight over his ass and thighs as he walks. He rolls his eyes up to the sky and then takes off behind him.

“I’m Nate by the way,” he says, catching up to the guy and offering his hand.

“Brad Colbert,” the guy replies. His grip is strong and sure, callused from work, and Nate’s hand is left tingling when he gets it back. It’s a long walk up the drive with Brad occasionally tossing a tennis ball for one of the dogs, Shadow and Fox, but somehow the silence feels more companionable than oppressive. Nate guesses Brad just doesn’t feel the use for filling the air up with pointless conversation. He can get behind that.

The main house had conjured images of a barn type compound but what Brad actually meant was a sprawling Spanish style ranch house with rugged red cliffs soaring up behind the house and vineyards. Nate has to take a second to stare. When he turns back to Brad, the other man is smiling at him.

“It’s beautiful,” Nate says.

“Thank you,” he shows Nate through the front door. He calls back to one of the dogs. “C’mon, Shadow.”

MOAR MODEL!AU PLEASE. *g*

But, also, if you want:

(http://s21.photobucket.com/albums/b254/joshleedev/?action=view&current=000rc44c.jpg) (http://s21.photobucket.com/albums/b254/joshleedev/?action=view&current=000rf0hr.jpg)

Let's just pretend that it's one picture. :P

They wind down several long cool hallways to an office of sorts. The walls are covered in awards and Nate realizes he actually recognizes the name of the vintner, Shadowfox. He’s had a bottle or two at parties in the past. There’s a skinny stick of a man sitting with his feet propped up on the desk and he takes one look at Nate and says, “Ooh la la la, Brad, this is a higher class hooker than you usually pay for.”

Nate stares at him and then turns back to look at Brad who seems annoyed rather than embarrassed. “Shut up, Ray,” he says. “The phone is next to my retarded associate, please help yourself.”

He stalks out of the room and Ray follows after, attempting to apologize, but clearly only annoying Brad further. Nate eavesdrops on their argument for a moment longer before picking the phone up out of its cradle. He calls a towing company first. They promise him forty-five minutes to an hour. Nate looks at his watch, he’ll probably be late.

He calls Amanda next. “I’m going to be late,” he tells her as soon as she picks up.

She sighs, sounding beleaguered. “Of course you are, first no date, second not on time, third you’ve started voting republican again.”

He laughs. “I assure you it stops at being late.”

“Where are you?”

“Not too far. My car broke down and this guy is letting me use his phone.”

“Christ, Nate, how late are you going to be?”

He spends several more minutes appeasing her and telling her everything is going to be fine. Finally she relents and hangs up on him. Nate doesn’t take it personally. This whole wedding thing has been making everybody nuts. He walks out of the room, following the sound of voices.

He finds Brad and Ray in a living room in the back, overlooking the rear of the property. One wall is entirely glass and the rows of carefully tamed vines seem to go on for ever. Ray is telling some story about rabies and pole dancers in Reno and Nate can tell that Brad is mostly not listening. They both turn when he enters the room.

“Thanks for letting me use your phone,” Nate says, finding it hard not to stare at Brad who is backlit by the window and seeming to glow with it. “I’ll uh…get out of your hair.”

“You’re welcome to wait here,” Brad replies evenly. Ray snorts and Brad turns to him, “Get out, Ray.”

Ray raises his hands in supplication, but rolls to his feet and leaves. He winks at Nate as he goes. Nate raises his eyebrows at Brad. “Ignore him,” Brad replies and walks over to a sideboard. “Can I help you to a glass?” He holds up a bottle of Campo Viejo Rioja.

“Not your own wine?” Nate asks.

Brad laughs. “If I only drank my own wine, I’d miss a whole lot.”

He pours Nate a glass and hands it to him. Nate looks down at his watch. Only 4:43 PM. He supposes he’s in wine country. He thinks about sitting down on one of the long leather couches, but it somehow feels appropriate standing here next to Brad. Brad clinks their glasses together and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving Nate’s. Nate takes a bigger swallow than he meant to and winds up tonguing the excess off his lower lip. Brad’s eyes darken and drop to his mouth.

“I uh…don’t suppose there’s anywhere you have to be tonight?” Nate asks, knowing he’s completely lost his mind.

Brad takes another sip, his throat working, and then sets the glass down on a low coffee table.

“No, I don’t suppose there is.”

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Brad and Ray running a winery together is almost too amazing to contemplate without my brain exploding. He named it after his dooooooooooooooooooooooooogs. ♥ ♥ ♥ And poor dateless!Nate. *pets him*

ALSO YOU CANNOT STOP THERE!

Here, let me help:

Seriously, that last one was one of the first things I found in my search and I couldn't NOT share it. :D

YES. A SNIPPET POST. *cheers* Ahem. Sorry, couldn't help myself:

A wedding port-o-potty? I'm mildly appalled.

I know! I can't decide if Brad would be appalled or appreciative! Maybe both?

Ray’s wedding is as fucked-up whacktarded trailer trash glorious as Brad could’ve hoped for. It’s held out in an open field lined with port-o-potties. There isn’t even a tent in case it rains. He’s got his buddies from home done up in dresses, chicken wings at the sagging buffet table, and a drunken priest to officiate. He doesn’t know what the bride did with her maids of honor, because he doesn’t see any women running around in tails. Millions of kids pile up underfoot and somebody’s DJing straight up country with an occasional Lynyrd Skynyrd song thrown in to preserve everybody’s sanity. The entire thing is ridiculous and Brad realizes of course that not even Ray is this messed up. He's doing it for plain ole performance's sake.

“Dawg, you gotta admire the fact that his old lady let him do this,” Poke says, appearing at his elbow.

“How do you know it wasn’t her idea?” Brad replies. “Maybe Ray found the other half of his soul.”

“Dawg, I only know one person with a soulmate and it’s y—” Poke breaks off suddenly, lips slamming together like he can gate in what he was attempting to say.

Brad stares at him. “What?”

“Nah, nothing,” Poke replies. Ray’s wife is letting him smear cake on her face so that he can lick it off. “Maybe you’re right, maybe Ray has found his soulmate.”

“Mmm,” Brad replies, staring at the antics over his cup of beer. He looks past Ray and his wife and sees Nate stepping out of port-o-potty. Almost all of Ray’s guests are way overdressed, because they were expecting an actual wedding and not this farce, but somehow Nate looks even more pristine. The wind is blowing slightly and his jacket flaps back. Brad watches Nate smile and shade his eyes, lifting his chin to the sky.

When he turns back to Poke, he finds him staring at Brad with a nonplussed expression, arms crossed. “What?” Poke shakes his head and walks away. Brad turns to look back at Nate and their eyes connect through the shifting melee of fake hillbillies.

Edited 2009-10-14 19:20 (UTC)

Hahaha. POKE IS THE VOICE OF US ALL! ♥ And Ray would TOTALLY have that wedding. So adorable!

They're really hungover. Jared doesn't remember anything that happened last night, the first part where his memory starts up again is puking in the toilet this morning, but he doesn't know how he got himself there.

Jensen was in no better condition. He'd found him, asleep in Jared's living room in only a shirt and no pants. Jesus, what had they gotten up to last night?

"I miss living here," Jensen had slurred when Jared attempted to wake him up.

"That's fine, dude, but put some pants on," Jared said, massaging at his own temple.

Now they're at the airport, waiting for their flight back to L.A. for some promotional stuff, the neon lighting killer and the coffee terrible. A girl reading a copy of Us Weekly freaks out when she sees them. Jared expects her demand autographs and pictures, but she blushes and runs in the opposite direction. This happens for a solid twenty minutes before they have to get on their flight.

When they exit the airport in L.A. TMZ is on them in a second. "How did it feel to finally be honest about your love?"

"Gay rumors have been swirling about you two for years, why decide to come out now?"

Jared would think it was an elaborate joke that Chad set up, only he's got a horrible gap in his memory and a pantsless Jensen in his house this morning. His head still hurts and he just stares at them. Jensen actually turns white and Jared thinks he's going to die.

Jared fights his way through the press and into a cab, tugging Jensen by his arm.

Jesus, whatever they did last night, they probably didn't mean. It was probably all a drunken joke. But they've just gone and told the world what they've thought all along. They're so fucked.

Jensen quietly gets on the phone with someone and has a short hurried conversation. Jared thinks it's probably damage control, but he sounds way too clipped to be talking to Danneel. Finally, Jensen hangs up.

He turns to Jared, a grave expression on his face. "That was the network, they're telling us for as long as we're on the show, we have to sell it."

Bahahaha! I win. So epically much. Especially because you seem to have run out of prompts after just two!

EEEEEEEEEEE. I can definitely see this happening. Thanks, hon. :)

Unfortunately, I am at work and they don't seem to care that I have porn to prompt! *SIGH*

That is so ridiculous I don't have words.

Let me just start off by saying I hope this is acceptable.

Evan looks surprisingly fay without his do-rag. Like a little boy a mother has shoved into his Sunday suit for mass. He stands in the darkness of Nate's unlit porch, tie-less, looking lost.

Nate who has to be up in three hours takes one look at his face and sighs. "Do you wanna come in?"

He sets Evan up in the kitchen, glass of milk, Brad's box of 'Nilla wafers. Evan doesn't say anything, he munches on a few 'Nilla wafers quietly, head bowed, eyelashes dark crescents against his cheek. Nate pulls out a chair and sits down across from him.

"Stafford, what happened?"

He doesn't understand any of this. How Evan got here to D.C., what he's doing in that tailored suit. Evan doesn't say anything. Brad walks into the kitchen, dressed only in a pair of flimsy pajama pants. He scratches lightly at the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband and says to Evan, "Nate should be asleep." He shoots Nate a mildly disapproving look and then drinks straight out of the milk carton Nate left on the kitchen table.

Evan stares. He tugs on the cuffs of his shirt peeking out underneath his jacket. Brad turns around to shoot him a sharp look, stowing the milk back in the fridge. "Were you getting married today?"

Evan visibly swallows, but he holds Brad's gaze. Nate stares at Brad and then turns back to Evan. "Am I missing something?"

Brad leans back against the fridge and crosses his arms, looking like he's content to wait for Evan to speak. Nate who has no idea what's going on just wants it to be over already.

"Stafford, what ever it is, you know you can tell me?" He feels like he should reach out and pat Evan's head, but he really doubts anybody in the room will appreciate that.

Evan takes a deep breath, he diverts his gaze to Nate. "I think I might be a...a fag."

Edited 2009-10-14 22:03 (UTC)

Yes, you have failed me! Big time!

(plus ASkars)

OR, something based on this icon:

Edited 2009-10-14 22:04 (UTC)

Aw, come on now! Don't judge Nate because he wrote romance novels to pay his way through college and now he's stuck in the jungles of Columbia trying to save his stupid brother Craig from some drug lords and has to rely on the kindness of a hot stranger who plans to take advantage of him are thwarted by a little thing called truuuuuuuuuuuue loooooooooooooove! He is, after all, a hopeful romantic! :D

This is where I point at my comment below and say "CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR!" :D

The man saved his life. That much was clear. He wondered if this was the legendary Brad Colbert the locals whispered about as Nate sat their doing his best not to interfere with their lives but only observe.

"You're with that anthropological study," Possibly Brad Colbert said, inspecting a wound across his back.

"I--yes," Nate replied, watching blood darken Brad's red shirt. "Who were those men?"

"Bandits. Want to scare the locals off so that they slash and burn the forest into arable farmland." Brad shrugged, pulling off his shirt to get a better look. His skin was darkened to a gold from the sun. His eyelashes looked pale against his cheeks. This was not what Nate had expected when the locals talked about the crazy white mountainman who lived somewhere deep in the forest. He was beautiful. Undeniably powerful in form, but he'd known plenty of tall men who knew how to use a bowflex. There was some other quality that made it hard for Nate to keep from staring.

Nate swallowed. Brad was peering unsuccessfully down his own back. "Can I help?"

Brad looked like he wanted to protest, like he didn't trust Nate not to fuck everything up, but he shrugged again. He sat down on a stump and gestured for Nate.

It was a shallow wound, but bleeding freely. The flesh had been skived from the point of a machete blade when possibly Brad Colbert had saved him from certain beheading. He mopped up the blood with Brad's ruined shirt, pressing it tight against Brad's skin. Nate carried a med kit with him at all times and he pulled out the small vial of hydrogen peroxide.

Brad's back muscles trembled as he swabbed iodine down the diagonal slash, but he didn't make a sound. "I think it may need stitching," Nate said softly, fingertips light on Brad's shoulders. Brad turned his head to look back at Nate and nodded. Their faces were suddenly close, and Nate didn't know what possessed him, leftover adrenaline maybe, but suddenly he was leaning forward,brushing a kiss to the corner of Brad's mouth, remembering how Brad had held his body between Nate and the bandits until he'd sent them running.

Brad made a sound in the back of his throat and then turned further, head craning on his neck to deepen it into a real kiss, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Brad's mouth was warm, sweet with the taste of fruit, and he sucked on Nate's lower lip like it was candy. Nate breathed hard, hands braced against Brad's back to keep from crushing into his wound.

Finally Brad pulled away. "Shouldn't of done that," he said.

"Why?"

"Interferes with your study if I'm fucking you while you're trying to take notes on the daily habits of the indigenous population." Brad grinned. "And, make no mistake, I am going to fuck you."

I responded below because I'm an idiot and responded to my own comment, BUT IT'S NOTHING LIKE WHAT YOU WANTED. Ooops.

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Winery, Part 1

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Winery, Part 2

Re: Winery, Part 2

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Re: Winery, Part 2

Re: Winery, Part 2

Ray's Wedding

Re: Ray's Wedding

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Re: Ray's Wedding

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Re: Ray's Wedding

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Evan Coming Out

Re: Ray's Wedding

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Re: Ray's Wedding

A Story Nothing Like Romancing The Stone...OH WELL

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