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crack_van2012-02-10 01:23 am
http://users.livejournal.com/_steelphoenix_/) wrote in crack_van2012-02-10 01:23 am
Entry tags:
In This White Wave I Am Sinking by queeniegalore (NC-17)
Fandom: GENERATION KILL
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Length: 23521
Author on LJ:![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=88.9)
queeniegalore
Author Website: Queenie's Fic
Why this must be read:
This is, primarily, a fic about coming home and realising what makes home. It's a fic about realising what love is and being honest about it with yourself. Brad is an incredibly complex character, but this fic really does him justice in all his pride and reluctance and honesty and bravery.
It's one of those fics that just feels like a logical continuation of the mini. The realisations are really painful, beautifully well-written and realistic and essential; the dialogue is perfectly in-character; and the ending scene is both incredibly hot and beautifully sweet.
Two weeks in, he caved, bought himself a bottle of Jameson’s, and set up shop on his back porch as the sun went down and the moon came up. There was nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. Brad knew this, understood it was the first step towards a long and slippery slope, but that understanding wasn’t enough to stop half the bottle from disappearing down his throat that night as he stared moodily out at the dark ocean. It was probably what made him pick up his phone and thumb down to Ray’s number.
Misery loved company; pathetic, drunken misery positively craved it.
He had one second of clarity before he pressed the call button. It was like the world was wavering in front of his eyes, swelling back and forth with the ocean, and then suddenly it stopped, crystal clear. It wasn’t that it was one in the morning, or that he was blind drink. It was the sheer neediness he felt, the desperation to hear another human voice, and for that voice to be Ray’s. Everything was frozen as he thought about that. Everything was soaked in drunk-logic, and suddenly it made perfect sense, after all.
He pictured Ray as he was when he first woke up, eyes bleary and automatically outraged, like he was already pissed off with the world and was prepared to tell it the fuck why in great detail. Ray could start talking before he was even completely awake, and Brad needed that. Needed those words.
He was listening to the phone ring before he even realised he’d pressed the button.
“Brad? What the fuck?”
Brad was slightly thrown, until he remembered the concept of caller ID. Way too much whiskey. He rubbed his eyes, moment of clarity long gone.
“Ray. Ray, it’s me.”
Ray’s pissiness seemed to vibrate right through the phone, and Brad finally felt some of his tension unwind itself.
“Yeah, I’ve established that, homes. I’m a fucking Recon Marine, remember? Any fucking reason why you’ve chosen to call me at oh-dark-thirty?” He paused and his voice sobered. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing – nothing’s happened,” Brad said, cursing himself. He should have known Ray wouldn’t be expecting good news at that time of night. “I just wanted to call and…” And what, Brad. He squeezed his eyes closed, head swimming. “And call.”
“Are you serious? What, you just wanted to call and hear my voice? I’m goddamned honoured, Iceman, I’m sure if it wasn’t three a-freaking-m I’d be jumping for joy and everything.”
Oh. Brad had forgotten about the time difference. He heard the flick of a lighter and then a long inhale as Ray lit up. “You smoking in bed, Ray?”
“Fuckin’ A I am, Brad. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. I could have been getting laid in here for all you know.”
Brad felt a pang at that, and consciously chose to ignore it. “You wouldn’t have answered the phone in the highly unlikely case of you actually getting laid,” he said, and he listened with interest to the way his voice was slurring. He gazed up at the sky, phone pressed against his cheek, and tried to see if he could catch the moon in motion.
“Wait, are you drunk?” Ray asked, sounding highly amused at this turn of events. Brad squinted one eye shut, he wasn’t sure if the moon was moving or just the clouds around it.
“No I’m not drunk,” he said, lying blatantly. Ray laughed.
“You are! You fucking drunk dialed me, that’s precious.” Brad could hear him shifting around in bed, juggling the phone around. “What, did your finger slip when you tried to call the LT?”
Brad thought about that for a second, thought about calling Nate when he was like this. The idea of Nate seeing anything other than the best of him made him want to cringe. Nate was a man you stood up straight for. Nate brought out the good in everyone, he made Brad want to be a better Marine, a better person.
Ray just made Brad want to be Brad. Warts and all.
“No,” he said slowly. “No, I definitely wanted to talk to you, Ray.”
In This White Wave I Am Sinking
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Length: 23521
Author on LJ:
queeniegaloreAuthor Website: Queenie's Fic
Why this must be read:
This is, primarily, a fic about coming home and realising what makes home. It's a fic about realising what love is and being honest about it with yourself. Brad is an incredibly complex character, but this fic really does him justice in all his pride and reluctance and honesty and bravery.
It's one of those fics that just feels like a logical continuation of the mini. The realisations are really painful, beautifully well-written and realistic and essential; the dialogue is perfectly in-character; and the ending scene is both incredibly hot and beautifully sweet.
Two weeks in, he caved, bought himself a bottle of Jameson’s, and set up shop on his back porch as the sun went down and the moon came up. There was nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. Brad knew this, understood it was the first step towards a long and slippery slope, but that understanding wasn’t enough to stop half the bottle from disappearing down his throat that night as he stared moodily out at the dark ocean. It was probably what made him pick up his phone and thumb down to Ray’s number.
Misery loved company; pathetic, drunken misery positively craved it.
He had one second of clarity before he pressed the call button. It was like the world was wavering in front of his eyes, swelling back and forth with the ocean, and then suddenly it stopped, crystal clear. It wasn’t that it was one in the morning, or that he was blind drink. It was the sheer neediness he felt, the desperation to hear another human voice, and for that voice to be Ray’s. Everything was frozen as he thought about that. Everything was soaked in drunk-logic, and suddenly it made perfect sense, after all.
He pictured Ray as he was when he first woke up, eyes bleary and automatically outraged, like he was already pissed off with the world and was prepared to tell it the fuck why in great detail. Ray could start talking before he was even completely awake, and Brad needed that. Needed those words.
He was listening to the phone ring before he even realised he’d pressed the button.
“Brad? What the fuck?”
Brad was slightly thrown, until he remembered the concept of caller ID. Way too much whiskey. He rubbed his eyes, moment of clarity long gone.
“Ray. Ray, it’s me.”
Ray’s pissiness seemed to vibrate right through the phone, and Brad finally felt some of his tension unwind itself.
“Yeah, I’ve established that, homes. I’m a fucking Recon Marine, remember? Any fucking reason why you’ve chosen to call me at oh-dark-thirty?” He paused and his voice sobered. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing – nothing’s happened,” Brad said, cursing himself. He should have known Ray wouldn’t be expecting good news at that time of night. “I just wanted to call and…” And what, Brad. He squeezed his eyes closed, head swimming. “And call.”
“Are you serious? What, you just wanted to call and hear my voice? I’m goddamned honoured, Iceman, I’m sure if it wasn’t three a-freaking-m I’d be jumping for joy and everything.”
Oh. Brad had forgotten about the time difference. He heard the flick of a lighter and then a long inhale as Ray lit up. “You smoking in bed, Ray?”
“Fuckin’ A I am, Brad. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. I could have been getting laid in here for all you know.”
Brad felt a pang at that, and consciously chose to ignore it. “You wouldn’t have answered the phone in the highly unlikely case of you actually getting laid,” he said, and he listened with interest to the way his voice was slurring. He gazed up at the sky, phone pressed against his cheek, and tried to see if he could catch the moon in motion.
“Wait, are you drunk?” Ray asked, sounding highly amused at this turn of events. Brad squinted one eye shut, he wasn’t sure if the moon was moving or just the clouds around it.
“No I’m not drunk,” he said, lying blatantly. Ray laughed.
“You are! You fucking drunk dialed me, that’s precious.” Brad could hear him shifting around in bed, juggling the phone around. “What, did your finger slip when you tried to call the LT?”
Brad thought about that for a second, thought about calling Nate when he was like this. The idea of Nate seeing anything other than the best of him made him want to cringe. Nate was a man you stood up straight for. Nate brought out the good in everyone, he made Brad want to be a better Marine, a better person.
Ray just made Brad want to be Brad. Warts and all.
“No,” he said slowly. “No, I definitely wanted to talk to you, Ray.”
In This White Wave I Am Sinking