Brad’s bike breaks down on the 273rd day after the event according to the calendar Nate stenciled onto the wall of a shed. There’s nothing Dean can do for it without spare parts. Brad just nods and walks off into the scrubby hills surrounding their improvised compound. His shoulders are a deliberately relaxed line that tells Nate just how upset he is.
Dean sighs and looks at his baby, the gleaming Chevy Impala that has come through hellfire and damnation looking like the day it was first driven off the lot. It’s a guilty look. He tucks a dirty red rag into his back pocket, and wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. A grease stain is left behind.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Dean says, already turning towards the ramshackle cabin he shares with Sam.
“He knows,” Nate replies softly.
Before they came across the Winchester brothers and their little ragtag band of misfits, they were losing a person every day. Since then they haven’t had a single casualty. Nate knows that Brad figures the bike is worth it, even if he would never have had to ride it so far if it weren’t for Sam’s missions. Realizing that is not the same as blithely accepting though. He blows out a breath, looks at the orange sky, and doesn’t know what to do next.
“You should go after him,” Sam says, suddenly behind him in that mysterious way he has.
Nate doesn’t jump, like most of the ragged remains of Bravo platoon, he’s gotten used to it. But it still freaks Ray out when Sam turns up out of thin air.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Nate replies, turning to look at Sam.
Sam shrugs. “It’s what you want, it’s what he needs. Sometimes being there to let someone rage at you…” Sam shrugs and trails off, eyes going distant, reminding Nate that there is a lot of history to Sam and Dean and Castiel and Chuck that none of them know.
Nate bites at his lip and then nods. “Okay.”
He follows the direction Brad went, boots scuffing over dry dirt. It takes him awhile to find him. Brad has always been better at locating him than the other way around. Brad lies spread-eagled in a ditch, staring up at the sky. Nate slides down the side to sit next to him. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know where to start.
Brad turns to look at him. “What up?” he says, like it’s the old days and they’re just shooting the shit.
Nate rolls his shoulders. “We can…maybe find the parts to put it back together,” he offers weakly.
“It’s okay,” Brad replies, lip tilting sardonically at one corner. He still looks beautiful amid the broken detritus of their former lives.
Nate struggles to say something that’ll sum up the entire situation and make it better, but he’s never been good at this sort of thing, just stumbling by on earnestness and candor. “I just know it was the only thing you had left.”
Brad’s chin lifts. “Is that what you think?” He reaches up with dusty fingers to trace a line down the side of Nate’s face. Nate’s eyelids flutter and Brad’s fervid gaze makes him flush. Brad thumbs across his cracked and chapped lower lip. “It’s not what I think,” he says slowly and leans up to kiss him.
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I sort of fucked around with dates and SPN's canon, OH WELL.
Date: 2009-11-12 08:09 pm (UTC)Dean sighs and looks at his baby, the gleaming Chevy Impala that has come through hellfire and damnation looking like the day it was first driven off the lot. It’s a guilty look. He tucks a dirty red rag into his back pocket, and wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. A grease stain is left behind.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Dean says, already turning towards the ramshackle cabin he shares with Sam.
“He knows,” Nate replies softly.
Before they came across the Winchester brothers and their little ragtag band of misfits, they were losing a person every day. Since then they haven’t had a single casualty. Nate knows that Brad figures the bike is worth it, even if he would never have had to ride it so far if it weren’t for Sam’s missions. Realizing that is not the same as blithely accepting though. He blows out a breath, looks at the orange sky, and doesn’t know what to do next.
“You should go after him,” Sam says, suddenly behind him in that mysterious way he has.
Nate doesn’t jump, like most of the ragged remains of Bravo platoon, he’s gotten used to it. But it still freaks Ray out when Sam turns up out of thin air.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Nate replies, turning to look at Sam.
Sam shrugs. “It’s what you want, it’s what he needs. Sometimes being there to let someone rage at you…” Sam shrugs and trails off, eyes going distant, reminding Nate that there is a lot of history to Sam and Dean and Castiel and Chuck that none of them know.
Nate bites at his lip and then nods. “Okay.”
He follows the direction Brad went, boots scuffing over dry dirt. It takes him awhile to find him. Brad has always been better at locating him than the other way around. Brad lies spread-eagled in a ditch, staring up at the sky. Nate slides down the side to sit next to him. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know where to start.
Brad turns to look at him. “What up?” he says, like it’s the old days and they’re just shooting the shit.
Nate rolls his shoulders. “We can…maybe find the parts to put it back together,” he offers weakly.
“It’s okay,” Brad replies, lip tilting sardonically at one corner. He still looks beautiful amid the broken detritus of their former lives.
Nate struggles to say something that’ll sum up the entire situation and make it better, but he’s never been good at this sort of thing, just stumbling by on earnestness and candor. “I just know it was the only thing you had left.”
Brad’s chin lifts. “Is that what you think?” He reaches up with dusty fingers to trace a line down the side of Nate’s face. Nate’s eyelids flutter and Brad’s fervid gaze makes him flush. Brad thumbs across his cracked and chapped lower lip. “It’s not what I think,” he says slowly and leans up to kiss him.