Allergy Trouble (HBO War: Generation Kill, Nate)

[lillian]

Nate gets care-taking bombed by the entire platoon (Even Brad. Especially Brad.)
NOTE: this story is based only on the characters portrayed in HBO's miniseries. It is in no way representative of the real people the characters were inspired by.

Characters:

Nate (Lieutenant Fick, LT) - junior officer in charge of Bravo 2
Brad (Sergeant Colbert, Iceman) - Team Leader of 2-1 
Poke (Sergeant Espera) - Assistant Team Leader of 2-1
Ray - Brad's RTO and driver and resident clown
Doc Bryan- Bravo 2's Corpsman
Gunny Mike - Nate's Gunnery Sergeant
Christeson & Stafford (aka Q-tip) - the baby Marines, devil pups (they don't actually feature much in the show but I love them so)

Part 1

“It’s not good. The cas-evac bird’s been going back and forth since sundown,” Nate said, watching the helicopter head back towards the burning city.

“Sir, the Army declared Nasiriya secure. It was on the Net,” Brad replied.

Nate frowned. “Whatever’s going on up there… doesn’t sound like we’ve secured much of anything.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the bombs.

“knx–choo!” 

It wasn’t Brad’s custom to bless someone – he thought it was a useless nicety and waste of airspace – but he did look over at Nate, whose chin was tilted back, eyes shut tight, hand hovering in front of his face. 

“k’gxxt!” In one fluid motion, he pinched his nose and ducked forward, shoulders trembling, then, almost a sigh, “choo…!” 

Brad turned back to the bright flashes of the city currently under siege. 

“h-heh…” the intake of breath was stuttery, and probably a little louder than Nate wanted it to be, judging by his careful suppression. “h’knxxt– cheh!” He sniffled– a soft, snuffly sound. He rubbed his nose, then the inner corner of his right eye, blinking away tears. 

Brad finally decided to say something. 

“Didn’t Doc give you some allergy meds?” 

“They make me drowsy.” 

“You still seem worn out,” Brad said, before his brain could process the thought and stop him from saying it out loud. 

Nate gave him a small, tired smile. “I appreciate your concern, Brad, but I’m fine.” He swiped at the tip of his nose again, which in the flashes from the bombs looked slightly irritated and pink. “Just sniffly.”
–

“--choo!” 

“Ha, LT sounds like a chick.” 

“Be nice, Ray. You sound like an elephant having a stroke when you sneeze.” He didn’t, actually. Brad thought he had a nice sneeze – decisive and full-voiced. He cleared his throat, pushing the thought away.

“--choo!”

“Damn, he’s been at it all night. Didn’t Doc give him meds or something?” 

Brad sighed. “Nate said they make him drowsy.” 

“Well, as a fellow allergy sufferer, I know what would make me drowsy. Fuckin’ sneezing all night.” Ray’s eyes went wide and he spun to look at Brad. “Wait, did you just call LT Nate?”

“Mind your own business, Ray.”
--

The next morning, as the sun rose over the camp, Nate pinched his nose and trembled with his third sneeze in a row. They were getting harder to contain, and he could feel the pressure of a sinus headache building behind his eyes. 

“Jeez LT, bless you.”

“Thadk you.” 

“Y’okay, Nate?” Mike asked, a very fatherly expression on his face. 

Nate sniffled with a congested-sounding snort and coughed lightly into a fist. 

“Fide, just allergy trouble… k’gzxxt– choo!” His expression was still hazy, as it had been all morning, but he tried to fight through the mounting sneeze. “Always worse ih– IH’kshHHew! excuse be– id the bordi’g.” 

And all night, but they’d been on twenty-five percent watch so everyone else in his humvee had been asleep. He sniffled again, and Mike’s sympathetic pat on the shoulder made him want to crawl right back into his ranger grave. He knew he looked pitiful, even without any reflective surfaces (to avoid giving away their position with accidental flashes). He flushed easily, and his eyes were always the worst when he had allergies– red-rimmed, bloodshot, and teary. His nose felt warm when he rubbed it, and he’d bet that it was probably red and a little swollen by now. As if it wasn’t prominent enough already…

“You don’t, like, need an epipen or anything do you, LT?” Christeson asked, sounding a little panicked. God, he must really look awful. 

“Doh, dot those ki’d of allergies,” Nate said, attempting a reassuring tone. His voice came out stuffy and hoarse, consonants blunted. And he had to sneeze again. Would it ever stop? He pinched his nose, trying to massage the incessant tickle away. It spread from the back of his nose up behind his eyes, making them burn and itch. It was creeping down his throat too, giving his voice a rasp he knew would only get worse. 

“het’tchxx–choo!” Ugh. He knew he sounded ridiculous (like a girly cartoon character, Ray said), but as good as he’d gotten at stifling, he’d never been able to completely suppress a sneeze. Or change the way it sounded when he released the built up pressure. He sniffled again. Great, now his nose was running. A snotty officer certainly did not command the respect of his team. Especially with Mike, Christeson, and Stafford looking at him with varying amounts of pity. 

“Bless. Want me to cover your sector, dawg?” Stafford asked, hastily tacking on a “sir.” Yep. He definitely cut an inspiring figure to his men. 

He was saved from addressing this thoroughly embarrassing question by the tall figure of his Team Leader approaching. 

TBC...
 

Edited April 16 by lillian

[solitaire-au]

🥰

That was so sweet! I look forward to the next part!

[secret19]

Wow! I love this! His sneezes are so distinct. 

5 hours ago, lillian said:

but he tried to fight through the mounting sneeze. “Always worse ih– IH’kshHHew! excuse be– id the bordi’g.” 

I especially love how he only excuses himself after letting the sneeze out. 🤤
Please continue Lillian, your writing is amazing.

[lillian]

On 3/4/2024 at 7:55 AM, secret19 said:

Wow! I love this! His sneezes are so distinct. 

Thank you! I'm trying to work on my spellings! Thank y'all so much for the encouragement! 

In this chapter: Brad is insubordinate (and maybe a little turned on?), Doc is unamused, and Nate is a mess.

Part 2

“LT!” 

“Yeah, Brad?” Nate said, grateful that his name didn’t have any consonants he couldn’t currently pronounce correctly. His voice was still shot though, and noticeably worse than the night before, judging by Brad’s raised eyebrow. 

“Can we talk?” Brad asked, jutting his head towards the berm on the outer edge of camp. Nate bit back a sigh of relief. Nodding to his team, he strode after him. 

“You look like shit.” 

“Brad, as your lieutedadt, I fi’d your tode–” 

“Don’t pull fucking rank with me, Nate. You’ve been sneezing your head off all night.”

How in the hell–?

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” Brad said with something very close to a smile. “Need to work on that sneeze, sir. Could compromise your combat effectiveness.”

—

Brad watched the color spread across Nate’s cheeks. He figured this would be a prickly topic, given Nate’s defensiveness the night before. 

As he watched, tears welled in Nate’s irritated-looking eyes, and his breath caught teasingly. With practiced synchronicity, he drew a sharp breath and pinched his nose tight. He was able to turn slightly away from Brad as the force of the suppressed sneeze jerked him forward, but Brad still saw how Nate’s eyes clenched in desperation and the pink flush across his face from the effort of holding it in. 

“k’nngxt— choo!” 

And that helpless chuff of air after…

“ng’kk— choo!”

Of course he had to do it over and over—

“hih… heh… h’nxxgt— choo! Ohh…”

Nate deflated, rubbing his nose harshly, then pinched it again, desperate. 

“nnxxt— cheh!”

He sniffled blearily and swayed where he stood. Brad grabbed his shoulder to steady him. 

“Oh,” he said again, blinking tears out of his red-rimmed eyes. “Excuse be.” 

“You thought you could go to war like this?” Brad asked, studying his face. His eyes and nose were a little puffy, stained pink and irritated-looking. His breath wavered and he squinted up at the bright morning sun, mouth falling open slightly. 

“Hih…!” It was needy, but resigned. 

“Again?” Brad couldn’t help but say. 

Nate nodded, nostrils flaring and puffy eyes screwing shut. 

“knxxt–choo!” he held his position, pinching his nose tightly, and gasped another breath “eht’kkshh!et’kishhoo!” The rapid double left him sniffling hard. Brad knew he should find it objectively disgusting, but Nate’s frustrated, congested sniffles–

“LT!” 

“F-fuck… ngxxzt–choo!” 

Doc approached, looking mildly pissed. 

“Sir, Christeson and Stafford said you were dying. Are you?” 

“I ab dot,” Nate said shortly, squinting across the camp to where the two were huddled by the truck. He sighed, then coughed harshly into a fist. 

“He’s electing to forgo the antihistamines you gave him because they make him “drowsy,” Corpsman,” Brad said. 

“For the love of God,” Doc muttered. Then, more loudly: “Sir, cut the martyrdom and take the damn meds.” He sighed. “At this point, they might not even work. How long has the attack been going on?”

Nate had to clear his throat before he could reply. 

“Since last night,” Brad answered for him. “Started while we were on watch— at around zero-three-hundred hours.” 

Doc gave an irritated huff. “Any shortness of breath?” 

Nate shook his head, then winced. 

“What is it?” Doc asked.

“Sidus headache,” Nate admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Great.”

“ehheh… et’ngxt—choo!” 

“Stop that,” Brad said sharply. “Just sneeze, Nate. This is why you have a headache!” 

Doc raised an eyebrow. 

Predictably, Nate wasn’t done. Used to having to follow orders, even if he didn’t like them, he obeyed. 

“eht’djishhoo! eh.. ett’kishh!!” He lowered his cupped hands and sniffled. 

“Gesundheit,” Doc said.

“Thah— ehh… et’chhshhew! tha’g you...” Nate kept his face buried in his hands this time, snuffling thickly. 

Brad and Doc were both patting their pockets, looking for something to offer him. Brad found a napkin from an MRE stuffed into his flak vest, and handed it over. 

Nate nodded his thanks, wiped his nose, and blew softly. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Brad said bluntly. Nate burned redder, nose still buried in the napkin. “We can’t step off with the LT like this."

“We’ll see if the meds help,” Doc said, digging through his pack. “But they might take awhile to kick in, if they’ll even be effective at this point.” 

“Braaaaaaaaaad!” 

Brad looked over to see Ray sauntering towards them, ridiculous gold sunglasses glinting, with Poke right behind.

Brad took a deep, calming breath, and stepped in front of Nate, shielding him from their view as the LT tried to take care of several hours’ worth of nasal torture with one thin napkin. He was not succeeding. Doc waited patiently, holding two pink pills in his palm. 

“What’s the holdup, dawg?” Poke asked. “My babies have been whining at me for twenty minutes.”

“And I think Trombley is plotting to kill me,” Ray said. “Please Brad, I need you to keep me safe!” 

“We’re at war,” Brad said dryly. “I can only do so much.” 

A stuttering gasp came from behind him, and he turned to see Nate pinch his nose through the soggy napkin with a very wet, forceful sneeze.

“nnn’gxxtschh!” He tried to squash it, but much of it slipped past his defenses. He sniffled and wiped his nose, the damp napkin doing very little to clean up the mess. “Excuse be.” 

Doc and Poke blessed him, and Ray winced in sympathy.

“Gross, sir.”

Brad sighed. Poke was right, they needed to get going. They were tasked with crossing the bridge into Nasiriya, acting as bait, as usual. 

“Don’t want to be late for getting shot at,” Ray said. He was practically bouncing. If he didn’t cool it with the Ripped Fuel, they’d have another incapacitated Marine to deal with.

Doc dropped the pills into Nate’s hand, who quickly dry-swallowed them, which triggered a coughing fit. 

“Let’s go,” Nate said hoarsely. Brad started to argue, but Nate cut him off. “I’b fide. I’ll have Stafford cover my sector udtil the meds kick id.” He looked around reassuringly. “We have a job to do.”
 

TBC...

Edited March 15 by lillian
ocd editing

[secret19]

Lillian. Please don’t take me lightly when I say this.

This update actually killed me.
I think I read this 20 times. I am going to check the site every 10 minutes for a new update.
If you don’t continue this I actually don’t know what I will do.

[lillian]

I'm so so glad you're enjoying it! I had this one partially written so I was able to get it up quickly. There might be a short pause before the next one is up! 

Also I saw Christeson and Stafford (AKA Q-Tip) referred to as "desert puppies" on Tumblr and I'm now obsessed. Please look up pictures of all these characters, my dialogue does not do them justice. Thank you for joining me in this very niche fandom!

In this chapter: Bravo 2 is a mostly-functional family, Ray makes an unusually perceptive observation, and Nate's team has his six. 

A few terms (with a few useless facts):
[got] your six - got your back
MRE - Meal-Ready-to-Eat (pre-packaged military meals)
Ripped Fuel - legal [at the time] speed 
LT - lieutenant 
Iceman - Brad (bc he's supposedly good under pressure. he throws a lot of tantrums imo)
screwby - an expression of joy. or annoyance. or really anything.

__

Part 3

__

“Dude, LT looks like shit,” Ray said, as he, Poke, and Brad headed back to their humvees. 

“Idiot’s gonna get himself killed, bein’ all combat ineffective like that.” 

“Yeah, Doc looked like he wanted to hit him. But he kinda always looks like that. You know, Brad, you’re like, weirdly protective of him,” Ray said, looking up at his Team Leader.

“Iceman’s gotta look out for all of us,” Poke said, grinning. "'Sept me, of course."

“Except you, Poke, you scrappy motherfucker.”

“Oooh yeah,” Ray cut in. “Brad’s like the dad of Bravo 2!”

“Lucky you, Ray. You can write my name in that blank space on your birth certificate.”
__

Nate gave one final sniffle as he approached his vehicle. Stafford and Christeson were in position in the back, having what appeared to be a rap battle. Mike was in the driver’s seat, waiting for him. 

“How’d your check-up go?” He asked. “You gonna live?” 

“I’ll be fide,” Nate said, opening the door. He paused, looked to the back of the truck, and back at Mike. “Did you put theb up to it?” He asked suspiciously. 

Mike gave him a warm smile. “If you were refusin’ your meds, I figured Doc could bully you into taking them.” 

“Who said I was refusing theb?”

Mike raised an eyebrow. 

Stafford’s head popped up from the back, Christeson’s following a second later. 

“You gonna be good for Na-zee-ry-a, sir?” Christeson asked.

“It’s Na-zy-ree-a, fool,” Stafford said, smacking him gently upside the head. 

“Dasiriya,” Nate corrected them, then closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll be fide. Stafford, do you mi’d watchi’g by sector? Just udtil we get to the city.”

“You got it, boss!” Stafford allowed Nate to step out of the vehicle before launching himself over the seat.

“Hell yeah, shotgun! Screwby!” Nate heard him say as he settled on the edge of the bed of the truck, leaning against the canvas cover. He propped his rifle on his lap, let his head fall back to rest against the iron rod that supported the canvas, and watched the rest of Bravo get ready to leave. 

Poke was yelling at one of his “babies.” Lilley, it looked like, from all the “yeah brah”s he could hear. Brad was ordering Ray to “please shut the fuck up and get in the vehicle.” Rudy was lifting four boxes of ammo at once.

The constant, stuffy prickle in his sinuses sharpened and he barely had time to pinch his nose shut before he was jerking forward.

“ekk’nt–choo! n’kk–choo! heh… hh… nn’gzzt–choo!” 

“Bless you. You sure you’re gonna be okay, sir?” Christeson asked. 

Nate held up a finger, signaling Christeson to wait.

“hep’ngt–choo! …Excuse be.” He sniffled and searched his pockets for the half-destroyed napkin Brad had given him. “Positive,” he said, trying to sound like a lieutenant and not a waterlogged being worthy of pity. “The mbeds will kick id sood.”

“Yo, bless you, LT!” Stafford called from up front.

Nate smiled a little as he wiped his nose. Things could be worse.
 

TBC... (things get worse)

Edited March 10 by lillian
ocd editing

[lillian]

I have the next part sort of figured out (the fic loosely follows the events in ep 2 "Cradle of Civilization") but if you have any specific scenarios or prompts I can try to work them in! I've found I keep writing the same thing over and over and I want to challenge myself a little bit. Next update will probably happen on Saturday.

[solitaire-au]

I’m really loving this!

Ah, I feel so bad for Nate! 🥰 Please tell me he at least gets something to blow his nose with!

Btw, when I was helping @SexualOddity with one of her fics where the main soldier character was having an allergic reaction on a helicopter and had run out of tissues, I suggested that one of the other characters might improvise. He got a triangular bandage from the chopper’s first aid kit and cut it into squares. Rough on the skin, but better than nothing!

[dwaekki]

I am in LOVE!! Stifles are my all time favourite so you're really killing me with this 😫😫

[lillian]

On 3/6/2024 at 2:48 AM, solitaire-au said:

I’m really loving this!

Ah, I feel so bad for Nate! 🥰 Please tell me he at least gets something to blow his nose with!

Btw, when I was helping @SexualOddity with one of her fics where the main soldier character was having an allergic reaction on a helicopter and had run out of tissues, I suggested that one of the other characters might improvise. He got a triangular bandage from the chopper’s first aid kit and cut it into squares. Rough on the skin, but better than nothing!

Thank you!! And I know... the poor man. Thank you for the idea! I was stumped. 

@secret19 hope this was fast enough for you! don't die!! Thank you as always for the motivation ❤️

The comments and feedback are so helpful with keeping up my motivation! I was re-watching to see if I could apply some of the actual plot and I came upon the most delightful image of Nate... like... that expression,.. those eyes.... bonus pic of his adorable angry face. 

https://imgur.com/a/NJkUSMQ

Edited March 7 by lillian

[secret19]

That was ammmmmazzinnnggg. I love @solitaire-au idea. I will set my alarm for Saturday. 🩷

P.S. I was thinking Lillian, if you want to switch it up, you might try….OC’s?  It might be fun. Just an idea. 

[lillian]

On 3/7/2024 at 9:08 AM, secret19 said:

That was ammmmmazzinnnggg. I love @solitaire-au idea. I will set my alarm for Saturday. 🩷

P.S. I was thinking Lillian, if you want to switch it up, you might try….OC’s?  It might be fun. Just an idea. 

It’s in the works! I don’t really do OCs, unfortunately. 

Edited March 8 by lillian

[lillian]

As promised! I'm not good at sexy writing, but I gave it a shot. 

I attempted some plot (ep 2). I was going to do the triangle bandage idea, but I figured it was kind of OOC for Doc to give up his medical supplies. If you're not dying or you're not a kid, Doc will tell you to kindly fuck off.

Note: Mike is Nate's Gunnery Sergeant, while "Casey Kasem" is "Encino Man"'s. The men call Mike "Gunny," while Nate calls him "Mike," because they're closer in rank and friends.

Thank you guys so so much as always for the comments and encouragement! Keep telling me what you think! Who do you want to see more of? 

In this chapter: We meet the source of most of Nate's stress, Gunny Mike mothers, and Brad's got a serious crush. 

Part 4!

The ride to Nasiriya was bumpy and uncomfortable. As a Marine, Nate expected to spend most of his deployment uncomfortable, but he hadn’t realized how hard it was to cover the back of the truck. 

He sat back-to-back with Christeson, perched precariously on top of the water containers. They sloshed under him as he and Christeson bounced with every ditch and pothole, bumping flak vests and smacking helmets. He was grateful his gun was strapped on securely, because there was a good chance he would have lost it otherwise. 

As they reached the outskirts of Nasiriya, they received the order to hang back and provide cover for RCT-1’s casualties. The guys groused about not getting to “pop their cherry” while RCT-1 and Alpha got to engage the hostile town, but privately, Nate was glad when they held back and dug in.

Especially as the antihistamines, as Doc had predicted, were not working. 

—

Nate had told the men that he didn’t want to know their nicknames for any officer. It would be unprofessional to refer to his fellow officers by names that blatantly declared the enlisted men’s disdain for them and their orders. But they were extremely accurate and slightly amusing, and his private thoughts were no business of the United States Marine Corps. 

Encino Man and his Gunnery Sergeant had called him and Mike over for an update. Nate had reluctantly left Brad's company to follow them. 

After receiving some vague allusions to “a plan,” he’d asked Encino Man if he could be more specific about their orders. He was his captain, and had a direct line to Godfather. Encino Man informed him that intelligence had discovered an enemy plot to infiltrate the unit. 

“So if you see a Marine with a mustache, it could be an Iraqi.” 

Nate didn't get the chance to process the abject stupidity of that statement.

“nn’gxt— cheh!”

Neither Encino Man nor his irritating little Gunnery Sergeant blessed him, and Nate didn’t excuse himself. Mike took the hint and only shot him a sympathetic look. 

“Coming down with a cold, Lieutenant?” Casey Kasem asked smugly, a mean glint in his eye. Nate ignored him. He acknowledged Encino Man’s "intel" with a slight nod, and watched the two idiots walk away. 

“mm’nxgt— choo!”

“God bless ya, Nate,” Mike said gently, “you’re really allergic to something out here.” The concern in his voice gave Nate a warm, safe feeling in his chest. 

Nate tented his hands over the lower half of his face and allowed himself to sneeze unrestrained. 

“heh’eschh!”

Brad was right, he was probably on the way to giving himself a sinus infection, and he could not afford to be any more incapacitated than he already was. His men couldn’t afford it. 

“eshhh!”

A few Marines in the surrounding Humvees yelled out “bless you!”s

“heh’eshhew!”

“You know, sir, something I do when I can’t stop sneezing is run the faucet and stick my face under it,” Ray said from where he was languishing in the shade under the cammie net of the closest vehicle. 

“That would be sound advice, Ray, if we had running water. And if it weren’t so colossally moronic. I swear to God, you are a barnyard animal," Brad shot back.

“…EH’SHHhew! h-hhh— excuse b-be—“ Nate had had enough of standing exposed in the middle of their encampment having what felt like his worst allergic fit yet. Contrary to instinct, it seemed like allowing himself to sneeze freely instead of holding them in ignited a burning itch in his nose that would not be alleviated, relieving as it felt to just let them fly. It was as if his nose was in rebellion from all the abuse he’d inflicted on it trying to maintain his dignity. He strode quickly to the edge of camp in search of some privacy. 

“Lived experience, homes. Your Viking Warrior ass has not experienced the true suffering that is an allergy attack,” he heard Ray say cheerfully. 

“Yes, I’m grateful that I don’t have malfunctioning hick genes that cause my immune system to believe it’s under attack at the slightest whiff of plant sperm.”

“Dot just hick gedes,” Nate muttered ruefully to the empty desert from behind his hands. “Cod’ecticut altar boy odes too.”

—

Brad devoted a fraction of his brain to rattling off insults to Ray, while the rest went unbiddenly to watching Nate lope off towards the outer edge of camp, hands held tightly to his face, step faltering slightly with each duck of his head. He cut his eyes to Gunny Mike, who was also looking after Nate. 

“You’re worried about him,” Gunny said. “I am too.”

“He’s going to make himself sick,” Brad said, frowning. 

“Hey, why don’t you ever care this much about me, Brad?” Ray asked plaintively from the ground. “What about when I got sick in Afghanistan?”

“You weren't sick. You got hypothermia because you were so loaded on Ripped Fuel that you overheated and were sitting out in the snow in a t-shirt with your boots off talking to the rocks. I had to wrestle your skinny whiskey tango ass into my sleeping bag so you wouldn’t die.”

“Yeah, and we were naked.”

“We had underwear on!” Brad said, voice going up an octave. “Sharing body heat is basic wilderness first aid!” 

It had rattled him, though. Seeing Ray so pale, lips and ears and the tips of his freezing fingers going blue. The relief he felt when Ray finally started to shiver and sniffle into his neck, his body tucked up tight in Brad’s arms. He was combat-thin; delicate as a baby bird. Or a kitten. Or some kind of woodland rodent. 

He’d watched him closely the next few days. Not fussing, because Brad Colbert didn’t fuss, just listening for any signs of a cough, checking his fingers for frostbite, feeling for a fever once or twice when he thought his color didn’t look good. Ray soaked it up like he’d never been loved, and clamored, with much drama, for more. 

His tough little half-feral tweaker of an RTO had pulled through healthy, but Brad worried about Nate. He seemed fragile in a way Ray didn’t, with his teary eyes and the way his skin - pale even after weeks in the desert - flushed so easily. The redness around his bloodshot eyes made the green stand out more, and his long eyelashes were always glistening with tears. He wondered what it would be like to run a finger down his strong, straight nose, over the little divot where bone connected to cartilage, and around the sensitive, flushed, flared nostrils. To kiss his chapped lips until he had to stuffily gasp for air. 

What would it be like to hold him like he’d held Ray? 

—

“Lieutenant, sir!” 

Nate bit his lip to stop a groan. He was trying his best to clean himself up, resorting to wiping nose and eyes on the dusty sleeves of his MOPP suit. He needed to blow his nose, badly, but the napkin Brad had given him was long-gone. He turned to see Rudy jogging towards him, a colorful box in his hand. 

“Had these in my snivel gear.” 

Soft, soothing luxuries like sweatshirts and cold medicine were classified by the Marines as “snivel gear” — they took pride in their spartan, tough living. Lotion was for pussies. 

Rudy, however, held the slightly-flattened Kleenex box out with self-confidence. He took pride in the care he gave himself, and however they scoffed, the care he gave his brothers, too. Not a soul would dare call him a pussy. Not when he had aspirin. 

“Thadk you, Rudy,” Nate said, conscious of the snot threatening to spill over onto his upper lip. He took the box and ripped it open, sniffling thickly. 

“You need them more than me.” Rudy looked at him with warm intensity. “Are you alright, sir?” 

For once, Nate wasn’t sure how to answer. 
___

TBC... will Nate ever start feeling well enough to reciprocate Brad's feelings?

Edited March 11 by lillian
ocd editing

[secret19]

Love love love it Lillian! Such good writing, amazing update!

1 hour ago, lillian said:

Who do you want to see more of? 

I honestly love how Ray cannot take the hint. I love seeing him bring up allergies and making Nate obviously super uncomfortable. 🤫

On 3/8/2024 at 2:50 PM, lillian said:

It’s in the works! I don’t really do OCs, unfortunately

I figured, just thought I would suggest. No pressure at all. 

Thank you for writing🩷

 

Edited March 10 by secret19

[lillian]

1 hour ago, secret19 said:

Love love love it Lillian! Such good writing, amazing update!

I honestly love how Ray cannot take the hint. I love seeing him bring up allergies and making Nate obviously super uncomfortable. 🤫

 

Thank you!! Ray is my absolute favorite. I've read some good fic recently where Brad refers to him as "an overgrown terrier" so I love them just casually insulting each other. Brad loves his RTO and Ray loves his Brad. Of course, this fic is Brad/Nate, but Ray's a fixture in their lives. He has canon allergies, so that might come up...

No worries about the OCs! I just find them very complicated and not necessarily within my skillset. 

I'm glad you enjoyed!!

[solitaire-au]

Aww, this was so lovely and sweet! Especially Brad and Mike’s concern for Nate. 🥰

I’m not that familiar with the characters’ personalities, so I’m a bit confused: if Ray had allergies himself, why would he draw attention to Nate’s allergic reaction rather than be sympathetic, or keep quiet? Or is he the type of person to antagonise others, particularly when they’re vulnerable?

And what’s the story with Brad and Ray insulting each other?

Love that Brad is dying to get close (and more!) to Nate while secretly pining over him and wrestling with his hurt/comfort urges.

What is Rudy like, btw?

[lillian]

On 3/11/2024 at 2:51 PM, solitaire-au said:

I’m not that familiar with the characters’ personalities, so I’m a bit confused: if Ray had allergies himself, why would he draw attention to Nate’s allergic reaction rather than be sympathetic, or keep quiet? Or is he the type of person to antagonise others, particularly when they’re vulnerable?

Ray has 0 filter, and he likes getting a rise out of people, mostly Brad. He gamely makes fun of anything and everything, himself included. He's not insubordinate, per se, but he gets away with a lot. I think it's because of the dimples. 

On 3/11/2024 at 2:51 PM, solitaire-au said:

And what’s the story with Brad and Ray insulting each other?

Part of it is the culture, most of the dialogue in the show is just all of them (mostly good-naturedly) insulting each other. Brad and Ray have a special bond where Brad exercises his creativity coming up with long, complex insults and Ray is completely unbothered. Example: He makes fun of Brad for being adopted, and Brad goes into a looooooooong rant about how Ray's the white-trash illegitimate son of a passing truck driver and Ray's response is "Well at least my mom took me to NASCAR!"

On 3/11/2024 at 2:51 PM, solitaire-au said:

What is Rudy like, btw?

Ah... Rudy. He's complex. He's this gorgeous god of a man who is deeply spiritual, self-confident, and caring, and also an insane alpha warrior jock. He brings an espresso maker to war (which accidently sets Ray's face on fire). The guys all adore him. 

_

This bit is kind of disjointed, and I'll probably re-write it, but I needed to get it up. Also, I wrote a short lil Brad story for my drabble thread! https://www.sneezefetishforum.com/topic/85076-lillian’s-drabbles-generation-kill-2008-miniseries/#comment-992351

 

Terminology:

ratfuck - to go through an MRE and pick out the good stuff 

ranger/combat grave - hole dug when sleeping out in the open for additional protection 

MOPP suit - chemical protection clothing; due to a supply snafu, they're woodland camo instead of desert. everyone is annoyed to find out that there's no real threat of WMDs (weapons of mass destruction) or gas attacks so not only is the invasion probably for nothing, but they also have to wear these uncomfortable things for no reason. 

also Poke called his team his “babies” once and boy did I run with it 

In this chapter: Combat cuddling, sneezing, and pining. That's about it.

_

Part 5!

By now, the sun was setting and the Marines were shifting into night-mode. Nate approached the truck to find Christeson and Stafford sitting in the bed, surrounded by opened MREs. 

“What–”

Christeson and Stafford looked up, amusingly in sync. 

“Ratfucking the MREs for napkins, sir.” 

“For you, sir. For your, uh…” Christeson gestured at his own face. 

Nate knew he was too flushed for any blushing to show through at this point, but he ducked his head and held up the (now half-empty) tissue box Rudy had given him. 

“Thadks, but I’b good.” He went around to the cab, noting with relief that Mike was absent. 

“huh.. huh’ESCHhhew!” Finally somewhat alone, he didn’t attempt to cover as he snapped forward with unusual force. He had to steady himself by placing a hand against the truck door as he pushed his helmet back. 

“Bless—!”

“Yo, leave ‘im alone, LT needs some space.”

Nate mentally thanked Stafford. Then, he heard another voice.

“Where is the LT?”

God damn it. 

—

He sat half-in the truck, boots propped on the runner. The sandy ground crunched as Brad headed towards him. Desperately, though his pride was hovering somewhere around the Humvee’s axles at this point, he pinched his nose. 

“hnngxt!nchxxt!nch-tchoo!” 

“Stop that shit, sir.”

“hh—“

Brad grabbed his wrist, startling him. 

“hat’TSHH!”

“Better.” 

Brad dropped his wrist like it was hot. Nate couldn’t see his expression through his allergic tears. Brad had just grabbed his commanding officer. Grabbed him by the wrist. He didn’t get a chance to think about it more than that.

“heh’TTCHHeh! S-sorry I’b dohhh.. djishhhhew! et— djshhheh! Dot very good cobpady at the bobedt...” 

He felt Brad’s sigh against his cheek. 

He tried to blow his nose, and winced at the ache it caused in his head. 

“eh’MMphh!”

Brad made a sharp, maternal noise of disapproval.

“Sorry, I’b just s-so tihh ISHH-schew! tired of sdeezi’g.”

“Have they always been this bad? Your allergies?”

“Dot unlehh …eschhheh! udless I’b cabpi’g or sobethi’g… a’d thed I usually take sobethi’g.”

Brad cracked a grin. “Sir, I’m struggling to imagine you camping.”

Nate smiled behind the tissues he held to his nose. 

“Though I suppose what we’re currently doing could be considered camping.”

“We jusd deed barshballows,” Nate said, and blew his nose with a stuffy honk. Brad cringed as Nate coughed. “ett’djshhhhh! et’SCHHhew!” Nate made another soggy attempt at blowing his nose, before slumping back in his seat with a very un-officer-like groan. 

“It’s almost impressive, sir. I don’t think you’ve stopped sneezing for more than fifteen minutes in the last” –Brad made a show of checking his watch– “fourteen hours.” 

“Has id beed thad lo’g?” Nate said hoarsely, forcing his eyes open. Brad had an odd expression on his face. Soft, almost.

“Yes, and you’re overdue for your fifteen minute break,” he said. He frowned. “I wonder if Ray was onto something with the waterboarding idea.” 

Nate snorted, then immediately regretted it, fumbling for more tissues. 

“hep’MMphh!” 

“Bless you," Brad said, for the first time since all this had started.

Nate cut his eyes to him over the tissues, a slow smile building, unbidden.

“Thadk you,” he croaked.

Brad nodded. “You should try to get some sleep.”
__

They were on twenty-five percent watch, so only one of them had to remain awake. Christeson and Stafford piled into their shared grave like puppies, curling around each other in their boots and flak vests. 

Plenty of guys shared combat graves. It was cold in the desert at night, and the holes were a pain to cut out of the stony ground. 

Poke would probably let one of his babies sleep with him, if they needed it; Rudy and Pappy (as the platoon’s sniper team, this was a given); and there was the odd combination of Chaffin, Garza, and Manimal. 

Even Brad – Iceman, Lone Viking Warrior – allowed Ray to drop into his grave and snuggle up beside him, on condition that he didn’t speak, snore, or put his cold fingers anywhere near his exposed skin. 

Nate did not ask for any of this information. Add it to the list of things he’d rather not know about his men, but was forced to learn anyway. In this case, he was on watch when he (and the entire camp) heard Brad loudly threaten to zip-tie Ray to the Humvee if he didn’t quit climbing into his ranger grave and trying to warm his fingers by sticking them down the hood of Brad’s MOPP suit. 

How would it feel to brush his own chilled fingers against the soft hair at the nape of Brad’s neck, bleached translucent against his warm sun-kissed skin? To tuck himself under Brad’s chin and be held in his long, strong arms?

Nate’s skin burned where Brad had touched him. Where he’d grabbed him. He rolled over in his sleeping bag, alone in his grave, trying to get comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

TBC...

Edited March 15 by lillian

[solitaire-au]

❤️‍🔥

This was both incredibly sweet, and very hot!

I love the idea of Nate’s men going through the MREs to get napkins together to help him out.
 

He’s clearly so humiliated by his allergies that even the others expressing sympathy embarrasses him. 😢 

And I loved that Brad told him off and grabbed his hand to force him to stop stifling his sneezes! 🥰 

[Catsgotyourtounge]

Omg this is amazing 

[lillian]

@solitaire-au @Catsgotyourtounge @secret19 @dwaekki I'm so glad y'all enjoyed! Thank you for the comments! They are the lifeblood of my motivation. Speaking of, I'm not sure how to get Nate out of this. There is plot ahead -- they are tasked with going through Nasiriya, they get shot at, they are ordered to go through other towns, where they also get shot at... they're "Reconnaissance Marines" (lots of training, very capable and smart, supposed to be doing spy-like missions) but command doesn't understand what "recon" means and sends them out as bait but I'm not sure how Nate will manage!

Or is it ok to deviate from the plot and keep them chillin' in one encampment while Nate dodges all the care-taking? I'm open to ideas!

Edited March 14 by lillian

[dwaekki]

Omg I'm excited to see the relationship between Brad and Nate develop! Can't wait for more 😊

Maybe a bit more of Nate dodging the caretaking before maybe he finally gives in? 

[solitaire-au]

I would like to see the others to take care of Nate some more, too.

Coffee and caffeine can actually help with some allergy symptoms, especially congestion and fatigue, so perhaps some of Rudy’s coffee could help with that. (Does Ripped Fuel contain caffeine?)

At some point Nate is going to use up all the tissues. Would it be realistic for a civilian to take pity on him and offer him some cloth to use as a handkerchief?
 

Or a local cold remedy, because they might assume that’s what he’s got?
 

I found some articles on the use of traditional Iraqi herbs etc and for colds they use artemisia, onion, dill, Bellis perennis (daisy,) chilli, cuscuta planiforia (dodder,) eucalyptus, licorice, low mallow etc.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/292538532_A_survey_of_plants_used_in_Iraqi_traditional_medicine

https://www.middleeasteye.net/discover/home-remedies-cold-seven-traditional-arab-world

 

[lillian]

Short update, but much is coming! I've been thinking about how to get @solitaire-au 's traditional medicines idea into this and I've finally figured it out, so stay tuned!

As always, thank y'all for the comments, feedback, and support! I think I'm gonna have Stafford (aka Q-tip), Christeson, and Meesh the interpreter go on a mission to a made-up sales booth to get what Nate needs. Perhaps Rudy will join them and have a surprising knowledge of medicinal herbs?

__

Part 6

Nate woke to the slithery sound of cammie nets being dismantled. There was a soft crunch by his ear and then a finger cautiously poking at his shoulder. 

“Yo. LT. Time to get up, we’re Oscar Mike.”

Nate shifted, time and place slowly filing into order.

“Just shake ‘im Stafford, he’s a hard sleeper. He won’t be mad.”

Another poke. Nate had a distinct memory of being woken in a similar way by his niece, though that had been on a futon at his sister’s house in Connecticut, not in a hole in the ground in Iraq. Perhaps he could be back on that futon, if he thought about it hard enough… an uncomfortable spring digging into his back, soft morning light filtering through drawn shades, the smell of coffee brewing…

He opened his eyes to see Stafford’s hazel ones wide and staring down at him; huge in his pale, angular face. The butt of his firearm dug into his back, the desert sun peeked through the cammie nets, and Stafford was pushing a tin mug of coffee into his hands, almost spilling it all over his flak vest. His pens would not survive that, and then where would they be? 

Nate pushed himself up on an elbow and accepted the coffee.

“Tha’g you,” he said hoarsely. The routine of morning light and coffee was so familiar that he took two glorious sips before he snapped to. “Why did’t you wake be for wadch?” he asked sharply, sitting up fully in his ranger grave. “How lo’g was I oud?”

“Uh…” Stafford blanched, pale eyebrows disappearing under the rim of his helmet. “You’re sick, sir, so…” 

“I ab dod sick,” Nate huffed, probably unnecessarily. Mike came to Stafford’s aid, appearing at his shoulder with his arms full of beige netting. 

“I told them to let you sleep, Nate.” Mike’s face softened as he looked him over. Nate was hit with another memory, this time of his mother, a nurse by profession, giving him a once-over as he insisted he was fine to go to school. 

Nate puzzled over this for a moment – his Gunnery Sergeant distributing watch orders behind his unconscious back – before he was overwhelmed with the need to sneeze. Normally, he would sneeze once, twice, five times, then be done, but this time was different. The sneeze took its time to build, coming out finally in a forceful, stuffy–

“ehh’xxshooo!” 

And when he expected another… it just never came. The ticklish feeling flared up and down his nose and reverberated through his very stuffy sinuses, but he could only sniffle. And his head ached like it was stuffed full of sand. 

Nate coughed, finding surprising purchase in his lungs where before it had only been his throat. He tried to sniff, hard, to clear himself up, but was blinded by pain in his sinuses when he did so. He squinted up at Mike, coming to the realization at the same time he saw it unfold on Mike’s face. This was not good. 

“I’m gonna get Doc,” Mike said carefully, “just sit tight, Nate. Drink your coffee.”
 

TBC!

Edited April 19 by lillian
even stuffier nate

[lillian]

and THIS has been my brad/nate anthem - turn on cc

Edited March 18 by lillian

[Catsgotyourtounge]

This is so good