Brad Colbert is bored.
Nate knows this because he can feel Brad staring at him from his desk one aisle over and two chairs back. On the other side of the classroom, Ray Person’s making obscene hand signals in Nate’s general direction, ostensibly to get Brad’s attention. At least it better be to get Brad’s attention, or somebody’s going to have an accident in the weight room before practice.*
“He’s got to come out eventually,” Rolling Stone observes. *
On a Thursday afternoon in early February, Brad Colbert gets arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department.*
Generation Kill fusion fic with Marvel Comics (X-Men, Avengers, Defenders, Iron Man and others). Someone had to finally write Brad as Iceman.*
Nate works for a company in research and development. He doesn’t know how he sleeps at night. Better Off Ted AU.*
“So I was thinking. This isn’t exactly my usual game, homes. And, uh—shit, I can’t believe I’m using this stupid fucking phrase,” Ray still looks uncomfortable and flushed, but he laughs, not the fucking sardonic laugh that filled the Humvee daily during their road trip in Iraq, but a rarer, honest laugh—”I’m actually going to have to take it slow. Reel the fish in.”
It’s around when Ray wants to hold Walt’s hand like a goddamn teenage girl with stars in her eyes and wet panties that he starts to worry.* I LOVED this.
The ground vibrates like an earthquake as the shamal twists overhead. Nate digs deeper into his Ranger Grave. The sand storm has blocked out the coming dawn and the only sound he can hear is the occasional mortar round dropping close by.*
Sometimes (rarely, but sometimes), he lets himself think about just how much they’ve fucked things up by coming here.*
After the restaurant closes at 12am, Brad puts all the open bottles of wines-by-the-glass on the bar and says, “We’re not leaving until these are done.” He gives each of the busboys, the waiters, the sous chefs a stern look, then his gaze finds Nate. “Unless our superior officer has something to say about it.”*
Brad sits on the edge of the picnic table, sipping his first beer of the afternoon, content to hang back and let the younger guys attempt to impress their wives, girlfriends and/or children.*
Brad was tired. He wanted a decent burger, and a fucking shower that he didn’t have to share with ten other men. Mostly he wanted to get out of this god-damned fucking airfield and sleep in Nate’s–in their–bed.*
post series, Nate (quietly) comes out. Brad finds this out and hunts Nate down.*
After his Social Policy in Iraq class, Nate sometimes heads over to the river and runs himself into the ground.*
“I feel you should be aware, sir, that I fucking hate country music. I thought you should know that before you decided whether to hire me or not.”
“Well, Mr. Colbert,” Nate said, leaning back in his chair, “I guess that depends on whether your hatred for Walt’s musical stylings extends to letting him get shot.”*
Nate knew he shouldn’t fraternize with his men like this. Or, more accurately, one of his men.*
This was not a normal day. This day existed to prove that hell was real and it came with musical accompaniment by will.i.am. On this day, Steve figured out how to get him out of the office and torment him at the same time by sending him to the godforsaken DNC where it was all ‘we shall overcome,’ oh-happy-day bullshit.*
Figure Skating AU. It starts with a pair of skates (they have toe picks). It doesn’t end there. A story of two skaters featuring a cat, a gender-specific couch and a lot of ice.*
After Brad is injured during an accident in Iraq, he and Nate begin a journey through South America designed to clear the air between them after years apart. Some days are easier than others.*
There is little that Agent Mike Wynn takes more seriously than the life of Vice President Nate Fick. When the number of death threats starts to climb, he calls in the one person he’s sure he can trust, USMC Sgt. Brad Colbert, and assigns him the 24/7 task of being the Vice President’s shadow.*
Brad unexpectedly meets a charming street hustler who insinuates himself into Brad’s heart and life. Can Brad get him off the street? Does he want off the street?*
What we have here is a futureverse fanfiction of a dramatic fictionalization of an individual interpretive account of actual life events…*
When Nate came to bed in a t-shirt that’s four sizes too big and a pair of boxers and he looked so coquettish that for a second Brad’s brain scrambled because Marine ran right into coquette and nothing made sense. For a second Brad didn’t understand him, totally lost that little bit of a handle on Nate he had. Then Nate crawled on top of him.* In the Modern Romance verse.
Don’t you know it’s supposed to feel better for boys?* Prequel to Modern Romance.
When Brad’s ex-wife dies and Brad and Nate find themselves in charge of Brad’s three sons, things get complicated.*
1888, Reno, NV. Sheriff Brad Colbert used to get along just fine…that is, until a morning shootout broke out in his town leaving three men dead. A babyfaced stranger by the name of Fick rolls in around the same time, and Brad ain’t convinced the two events aren’t related.*
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