Allergy Trouble (HBO War: Generation Kill, Nate)

[lillian]

14 hours ago, Catsgotyourtounge said:

This is so good

Thank you!!! I'm already working on the next part!

Edited March 18 by lillian

[solitaire-au]

Glad I could help!

It’s lovely that your partner knows and is not only supportive, but keen to help with prompts and ideas! My husband knows about the fetish, but I’ve never told him about the forum, let alone show him my writing!

I really like this part; Nate’s memories help to give a sense of what he and his life was like before joining the Marines.

And it’s so typical for most people to see no distinction between allergy symptoms and conventional sickness. And for allergic people to insist they’re not sick, because technically, they aren’t, but they also don’t want to be a burden. (Which on active deployment would be a big problem, especially for an officer.)

Mike comes across as a great character and a sweet person.

I’m really enjoying your GK content. Even though I have no experience with the show, I’ve been enjoying it very much.

I know a lot of people won’t read any fanfic from fandoms they’re not familiar with, but they don’t know what they’re missing! Gems like this, for one thing! 🥰

[solitaire-au]

[deleted]

Edited March 19 by solitaire-au
edited because I accidentally double-posted

[funbusej]

ACK!  I love it when strong, tough, marines get all soft and mushy!!!  This is very much up my alley!

[Catsgotyourtounge]

This is absolutely sooo good!!

[lillian]

Thank y'all so much for the encouragement! I know it's been awhile. I have part of the next bit written, but I'm struggling with how to make it Brad/Nate enough -- it's kinda hard to do that in a crowded camp, which feels authentic I guess, lol. 

I kicked the rest of the platoon out to play cornhole (thank you Ray for distracting them), and now Nate's being coddled by his team leaders. How do I extract him and Brad from all these overprotective Marines?? 

I'm brainstorming but if y'all have ideas, please let me know! 

**one team has already set off to procure local medicines for Nate, so that's squared away, ty @solitaire-au

Thanks for sticking with me! I'm trying to put more thought into the structure and setting of my fics. It's been a side hobby for so long and I haven't really dedicated much time to "improving my craft," as they say. But I want to write good fic. Y'all deserve it. 

Edited April 10 by lillian

[lillian]

Part 7!

In this chapter: Nate gets babied, the writer gets carried away with a game of cornhole, and Gunny Mike loses his devil pups. unsolicited devil pup tomfoolery

__

Doc strode over in front of Mike, like he’d been expecting this. Behind him followed what seemed like half the platoon. 

“What color is your snot, sir?”

“Whad?”

Not even Ray had anything to say to that. Doc was holding Nate by the jaw, pressing gently along his cheekbones and under his eyes. Nate winced, but didn’t pull away. 

“Sir?”

“Uh, clear?”

Doc’s sigh of relief was audible. 

“Good. No infection then. Vest off.” Doc pulled out his stethoscope. Nate undid his flak vest and shrugged it off, pausing to muffle a few stuffy coughs into his sleeve. “Well I don’t like the sound of that,” Doc said under his breath.

 Brad’d had enough of everyone staring at Nate. 

“Don’t you all have something better to do? Go on, give the LT some privacy! I’ll be sure to let you know if it’s dire.” He caught Ray’s eye. Ray nodded back.

“Hey, you motherfuckers ever play cornhole?” 

“I bet you ain’t shit at cornhole, Ray,” Chaffin replied with a grin.

“Just ‘cause you’re country don’t mean you can aim,” Manimal butted in, his smile showing the gap where his brother shot out two of his front teeth with a BB gun.

“Yeah, don’t mean you can aim!” Garza said excitedly. “What’s cornhole?”

“Cornhole is some obnoxious white people bullshit," Poke said as the voices faded. He dropped to a knee next to Brad, still shaking his head.

Once Nate had his MOPP suit jacket off, Doc pressed the stethoscope against his olive green t-shirt, instructing him to breathe in and out. He moved it to his back, and his frown deepened. 

“Definitely a lot of inflammation, but no crackling, so that’s good.” Doc sat back. “But I do hear a bit of a wheeze, sir, which is concerning.” 

“So we med-evacing ‘im?” Gunny Mike had never looked more like the dad of the platoon. 

“Shouldn’t be out here if he can’t fuckin’ breathe.” Poke was starting to sound pretty fatherly, too. Brad suddenly remembered that both of them did have families at home, waiting for them to come back.

“I heard you coughin’ last night,” Gunny said. 

“I cad breathe,” Nate insisted. Brad saw his ears turn red and those angry tears he sometimes got when he was really mad well up in his eyes. He tried to get to his feet, only to be pushed down again by Gunny. Any other officer would be threatening to NJP everyone, but Nate had the common sense to understand that the way all of them were plain ignoring his protestations was not insubordination, but care. He was confident enough to know that he wasn’t being pitied. But that didn’t mean he was enjoying it. 

“You got anything else you can give him, Doc?”

“Well he didn’t respond to the antihistamines, probably because he waited too long to take them." He gave Nate a disapproving look. "I could try sticking him with an epipen, see if that does anything.”

“I’b fide.”

Doc poked at his sinuses again. Nate winced. 

“Jam-packed. I bet you have a killer headache, sir.”

Nate shrugged stiffly. 

“So what’s the verdict?” Ray asked, coming over to stand beside Brad. He could hear the distant shouts of the others, briefly distracted by playful competition. 

Nate’s irritated-red eyes narrowed. For a second Brad thought he was going to snap at him, then as Nate’s head tipped back and his hand came up to pinch his nose firmly, he realized the LT wasn’t in a position for caustic self-preservation. 

He tried anyway. 

“Apaih — ahhpp… ap’NXXT!” 

It was hollow and squelchy and sinusy, and left Nate blinking and dizzy-looking. He attempted a sniffle. 

“Apparedly I have a sduffy dose,” he said, voice rasping painfully. 

“Priming yourself for a combination sinus and ear infection, sir.”

“I told you!” Brad hissed. 

“heh’NGXT! —NXXT! cheh...”

“Salud,” Poke said, softening.

“You’ve got it bad, LT,” Ray said. He pointed at the tin cup in Nate’s hands. “That coffee?” 

Nate nodded. 

“Rudy made him some,” Mike said. 

“Good. Coffee’s good for allergies,” Ray said, looking pleased with himself.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Doc asked. Brad grinned, settling in. When Ray was right, he was right. 

“So the caffeine dilates the blood vessels and shit which makes you less stuffy and your head stop hurting. If it’s hot, it’ll help clear you out, too. Don't put milk or anything in it, though, that'll make you snotty.” He nodded wisely. 

“And your evidence?” 

“Old folk remedy from my homeland, Missouri.”

Doc was about to respond when Walt came jogging up. 

“Hey, y’all seen Christeson and Q-tip? They owe Pappy and Chaffin bet money.” He grinned. “Me an’ Rudy whooped everyone’s ass.”

Brad looked over Walt’s shoulder to do a quick headcount of the cornhole huddle. He saw Gunny do the same.

“Goddammit,” Mike muttered. “Where’d those kids get off to?”
__

Up next: Nate and Brad finally get some alone time...

Edited April 23 by lillian

[lillian]

Part 7.5

prev was a little light on sneezing, so here's more!
__

Mike understood why Christeson and Stafford were assigned to LT's vehicle, and he didn’t mind making sure they didn’t die, but between the damn near constant beatboxing and general tomfoolery, he felt like he was getting real old real fast. 

And now they’d fucked off to God knows where. 

“Ray, Walt, go see if you can find ‘em.” 

“Roger that.”

“Yes sir!”

As they left, Mike looked down to Nate, who was still sitting in his grave, looking damn near close to pouting. The sneezing seemed to be letting up, but he suspected it had more to do with being stuffed up than a sign that he was getting better. 

“het–nxxt! et’gxxchh! huh…heh–NGXT!” 

He was trying to save face, but Mike really wished he would stop doing that. From Brad’s frown, he could tell he thought the same. 

“Gesundheit,” Brad said softly, looking more gentle than Mike had ever seen him. Nate looked a little startled, but gave him a tiny smile. 

“Thadks.”

Mike had no idea what to think about that. 

Brad cleared his throat. “So what’s the plan?”

“If he’s combat effective by tomorrow I’m not worried.” He turned to Nate. “If you get worse, sir, I’m going to have to sign off on a medical leave.” 

As Corpsman, Doc officially had the final word, he knew that, but they really needed Nate. Not only was he a buffer between the stupidity of Command and the guys, he was also a good leader and his men respected him. He made calls that kept them alive. 

“I’ll get better thed,” Nate said firmly, getting to his feet. This time Mike let him.

__

TBC
 

Edited April 19 by lillian

[Catsgotyourtounge]

Omg omg

[lillian]

Next part should be up tonight! 

for now:

Brad stepped back when Nate reached for the tea. 

“Sir…”

Nate sniffled thickly and rubbed his nose, glancing up at him.

“Please, Brad, I can handle it.” There was only a little bit of a wry lilt to his voice, the rest was scratchy desperation. 

Edited April 19 by lillian

[lillian]

Finally... Chapter 8!

In this chapter: the devil pups play charades to get drugs, Nate induces, and Brad finds religion. Thanks @solitaire-au for the source!!

And thank you all so much for sticking with me! I'm really proud of this story and so happy to share it!

And thank you to that one video of Nate's actor sniffling his way through an interview 🥵

__

Christeson and Q-tip made it back to camp before the search party did, and went straight to Doc, who was interrogating Gunny about the LT’s medical history and taking notes.

Doc took one look at the packet in Christeson’s hand and shook his head. 

“Nope. Not even going to ask.”

Gunny crossed his arms. “If that’s drugs, I’m not going to be mad, but I will be very disappointed.”

“I’ll be mad,” Doc muttered, putting his notebook back into his medical bag. 

Q-tip looked scandalized. 

“Drugs? Naw, this is for the LT!”

“We bought it off some guys who had a stand back near the road,” Christeson added, just as excited as Q-tip. 

“Do you even know what it is?” Doc asked, exasperated. Gunny was shaking his head. 

“Hal-bat al bur-ka-hee. It’s for colds and shit.” 

Christeson nodded. “Yeah, you make it into like a tea.”

Doc opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Did you bring Meesh with you?” Gunny asked, glancing around for the translator.

“Naw,” Q-tip said, “we did pantomime. You know, acted it out.” 

He and Christeson had begun to show them just how they’d “acted it out,” when Rudy approached. 

“I heard something about a health tea?”

“I am not a witch doctor,” Doc said, bending down to pick up his bag. “I am a Hospital Corpsman 2nd Class. I am leaving before I witness this. Do not include me in the LT’s post-mortem report.” 

Rudy clapped him on the shoulder. “I understand, Warrior Healer. The path to health has many branches.” 

Because it was Rudy, Doc didn’t roll his eyes. 

As Doc headed back to his vehicle, Rudy held out his hand for the packet. “May I?”

__
It hadn’t taken long to convince Nate to drink the tea Rudy made. He did not want to be med-evaced, and he wanted everyone to stop feeling so fucking sorry for him. 

He perched on the back of the truck, facing away from camp out into the countryside, Brad leaning against the bumper next to him. Brad had scared everyone away with a pointed glare, so they were mercifully alone. 

Nate took a sip, the heat and the peppery tea making his nose tickle. He sniffled and coughed, but waved Brad away when he gave him a worried look. He was about half-way through when the need became unbearable. He shoved his mug at Brad before clamping his tented hands over his nose and mouth. This was going to be messy. 

“heh-ESH! ESH! ESHew! huh.. heh… hh… h’ETSCHH!” They were coming so fast he could barely get his breath. “heshh… HESHHew! het-nng’TSCHH!” 

He paused long enough for a full, shaky breath, then fell forward again, each mini-explosion wrenching through him. Thank God only Brad was there to bear witness, and he had the decency to be silent and let him ride it out. 

“hnkk-SHOO! et’SCHOO! heh– hehh…. HESHH! hesh-HESHHew!” He usually sneezed in little fits, but never this strong. “heh-ett’SHH! et’SHH! et’SHHeww!” 

A hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Here.” 

Nate opened his eyes as much as he could and grabbed the stack of napkins Brad was offering. Without time to properly fold them over his nose, he bunched them up in his hands and pitched helplessly into them. 

“ekk’SHH! het– heh… heh’YESHH!” 

“Pinch your nose.”

Nate did as he was told. The burning sensation dulled a bit. Encouraged, he massaged his nose gently through the tissues, teasing out a congested “gnkk–shhew! mngk-SHEW!” To his surprise, the feeling faded. He blew cautiously, not wanting to set himself off again. 

Brad handed him more napkins. 

Nate squinted up at him. 

“You’re dod’ grossed oud?”

“I’m mostly glad that you’re getting all that shit out of your head, sir.” 

Nate blew his nose, hard, with a congested gurgle. He kept going until Brad was out of napkins to give him. 

“You alright?”

Nate nodded and sniffled, testing his sinuses. His eyes slipped closed again as he pitched into the soggy napkins with a final “hep’tschh! ETSH-shhew!” He sniffled again, nostrils flaring, and shoved the useless napkins into his pocket

“Gesundheit.” 

He looked up to see Brad looking down at him, a worried frown deepening the line between his brows. 

“Thank you,” he said, with a grateful smile.

Brad’s shoulders relaxed. “You sound better.”

“I feel better.” He frowned, flaring his nostrils and wiggling his nose. “Still kind of itchy though.” He put his hand out, gesturing for Brad to hand him his mug. 

__

Brad stepped back when Nate reached for the tea. 

“Sir…” 

Nate sniffled thickly and rubbed his nose, glancing up at him. 

“Please, Brad, I can handle it.” 

There was only a little bit of a wry lilt to his voice, the rest was scratchy desperation. His nose was red and definitely swollen now, but his eyes looked better and he sounded less congested. Now that he didn’t seem as miserable, Brad allowed himself to appreciate the way he scrunched up his nose when he sniffled, a little more on the right than on the left, and the flare of his nostrils as more sneezes teased him, just out of reach. 

Suddenly, Nate leaned back, bringing his hand to hover in front of his face. He hitched a few needy breaths, squinting up at the sun, but this time it didn’t trigger his photic reflex. 

“Lost it,” he sighed, rubbing his nose again. 

Brad pushed down the squirmy feeling in his chest and held out the mug wordlessly. 

Nate took a careful sip, waited, took another, and then Brad had to grab the mug before it fell as Nate’s eyes squeezed shut and his jaw went lax. 

“huh-ESHH! ESHH! EHSHHeww!” They were bigger than his usual ones, and stronger, jerking him forward in his seat. Brad found himself with his hand on his shoulder again, steadying him. Perhaps remembering that there was another person present, Nate steepled his hands over his nose and mouth and ducked his head, leaning forward with elbows on knees. 

“et’djjshhheww! et’dchh-etch-etch–!” –he gasped a breath – “haaahh—etschh!ekt’SHH!” –another shaky breath– “ekt-shh!ektshh!ektshhh!...” a choked inhale and “…hahhh–ett’SCHHHEW!” He almost shouted the ending, sounding desperate and out of breath. Finally, panting, he looked up at Brad, hands still cupped over his face. 

“Wow.” Brad cleared his throat and collected himself. “Unfortunately, sir, I have neither the credentials nor the faith to offer benediction for that.”

"’Gesundheit’ will do…” Nate muttered, removing one hand from his face and wiping it on his MOPP suit pants. 

“Gesundheit, then.” 

Nate looked up at him. “Dod’t suppose you… h-h…hh…” 

Brad could see that he was doing his best to hold it back. And dammit he was out of napkins.

“I don’t, but it’s okay, it’s just me here. I don’t care.”

Nate nodded, and let go-- “hhhzzSCHH!” Partially muffled by his sleeve, it sounded urgent and very wet. A shiver went down Brad’s spine, and he swallowed. “hhr….HRSHH! hshh-HESHHH!” Nate wiped his nose messily on his sleeve. He sniffled deeply, burbly and thick, but not miserably congested like before.

“Oh, that feels better,” he murmured. 

Heat crept up the back of his neck as Brad cleared his throat again, trying to look away from the sight of Nate– rosy-cheeked, sniffling, and blissed-out. He couldn’t. 

“God bless you,” he forced out, only stammering a little. 

Nate’s answering smile went straight through his heart. 

FIN

what q-tip was trying to say: habbat al-barakah - black seed or black cumin, used as a decongestant since the 10th century 
 

Edited April 19 by lillian

[lillian]

Would anyone be interested in an epilogue? Perhaps with some more Brad/Nate moments? Or some battle drama? 

[Catsgotyourtounge]

Yes please 

[solitaire-au]

I am melting from the sheer loveliness! 🥰

More is always appreciated! 💗