A/N: for my love, burnmedown.
just a quick lil something-something i wrote on my phone while i was waiting in line at wendy's. so u know. one day i'll write something decent and full of plot and action again. one... day... inspiration is hard to come by. and so is motivation to finish current projects. but i'm trying. luv u babies.
09. SEEN.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Clay asked, tracing his thumb along the outline of the bruise on Brian's throat.
It was ugly already, not even forty-eight hours afterward; The shape of a terrorist's hand, deep violet in color and tinged blue around the edges, like the hypoxic lips of a dying man, or the late evening sky before a twister. It almost camouflaged the long, thin scar on the side of his throat. From a knife wound, no doubt. Clay brushed his thumb against that, too.
"Not really," Brian said. "I didn't think I'd live this long, to be honest."
He paused, seeming to steady himself, then continued, "I figured I'd starve to death first. There were a few times I really thought that I was—that it was over right then and there."
Clay nodded and said nothing. He knew better than to push for details. Brian had always been tight-lipped and short-tempered about who he was before he became a sailor and a Navy SEAL, though on occasion he'd let a detail or two slip. Clay clung to those little details like lifelines in a storm and filed them away for later.
"Do you think about the future?" Brian asked, turning his head to look at Clay.
Even with the bedcovers tangled only around their legs and hanging halfway off the bed, and even with the sweat and come cooling rapidly on his skin, Clay felt hot under the weight of Brian's gaze. Fevered. Like his skin was simmering. Like a fever was breaking. He licked his lips.
And, God, that was the thing about Brian: there always seemed to be weight in his eyes, and in his words, and in his gestures—something hiding just beneath the surface always seemed to be on the precipice of crushing him, of silencing the words that Clay knew he was so desperate to speak.
( Clay didn't have to know Brian, to know Brian. )
"I didn't used to," Clay said. "I had my whole life mapped out in my head, ya know? Enlist, because a SEAL like my old man, become a Tier One Operator. I never imagine anything beyond that. No wife, no kids. Certainly no ... you. Part of me didn't believe I'd ever make it this far."
"All the way to Bravo Team?"
"Yeah. But … then I went to BUD/S and I met you. And now, I don't know—I'm thinking about a lot of things. I'm wondering if my future might look a little different now."
Brian smiled that soft, achingly warm smile of his. "Different how?"
Clay shrugged and flung his leg over Brian's. Tucked into Brian's side, he felt safer and more content than he'd ever felt before. With Brian, Clay felt known in a way that he'd never been known before. He felt seen. (Which is why it hurt so badly that Brian still wouldn't offer more than a glimpse of who he used to be; He wanted Brian to feel known and seen, too.)
"Like, us in a house instead of your sad, sad undecorated apartment," Clay said through half a laugh, "A house with a yard, and a flagpole, and a two car garage. We're happy, ya' know? We finally have something that's ours, and no one can fucking touch it. Or us."
A pause. Then Clay said, almost bashfully, "We're happy. I never thought that we could be happy."
Brian shifted to lie on his side, so that he faced Clay. Their noses almost touched.
"You've made me happy since the moment I met you," Brian said quietly, as though it were a secret he swore to never tell. "Even when you drive me up the goddamn wall, you make me happy. Even when you won't stop ranting about Jason Hayes."
Clay squeezed his eyes shut. "You make me happy too, even with that obnoxious fucking Cajun accent of yours."
Brian grinned. "You like my accent."
"Whatever you say, you fruit." Clay shot back.
Brian laughed and kissed Clay's mouth. It felt like the easiest thing in the world. Like coming home after a long day in the throes of heat of dust and blood.
"Okay," Brian said. "Let's buy a house."
"Let's buy a house," Clay repeated, and kissed him again.