#nateray

“Oh, definitely not,” Nate reassured him, planting a series of tiny kisses to Ray’s cheek and jaw, which was just adorable. “I’m not looking to get murdered.”

That was backwards. Ray frowned and was going to correct him, but Nate inclined his head and kissed him again, soft lips coaxing his mouth in a response, and he went weak at the knees. It took a couple of minutes to remember what they had been talking about, and then another thirty seconds to work up the will power to turn his head.

“No, I’m totally the one he would murder. Brad, like, worships you, dude. The idea of me sullying you with my hillbilly germs would totally piss him off.”

“Please.” Nate rolled his eyes. “Brad doesn’t mean half of what he says. When the chips are down, you’re his best friend—if he knew we were dating, he’d give me the shovel talk to end all shovel talk, at the very least.”

Ray was distracted again as delight bubbled up in him.

“Wait, hold on, are we officially dating now?”

Nate looked at him with a confused frown.

“Yeah, of course. Ray, we’ve been on two dates now. What else did you think we were doing?”

“Going on dates is different than dating.”

“Oh my God, am I dating a middle school girl?”

“Oh, shut up,” Ray said cheerfully, and shut him up with his lips. “Seriously, though, homes, I don’t even want to hear the speech Brad would give about me corrupting you with my animal-fondling ways or whatever. Like, I know you’re a smart guy, but you’re way off-base on this one.”

“Sure, Ray,” Nate said in a mollifying voice, running a hand up Ray’s thigh. “Here’s an idea: let’s stop talking about Brad.”

Ray was more than happy to oblige.

It was almost a month before they actually got to put their theory to the test. A month of hiding their texts, lying to Brad about what they were doing and then coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies to cover up holes in their stories, and on two occasions physically sneaking out of windows half-dressed because Brad showed up early for prescheduled bro hangs.

They were strategic about the reveal. They invited Brad over to watch trashy action movies, acquiesced to all of his pizza topping suggestions, and plied him with beer. The credits were just starting to roll when Nate and Ray looked at each other and nodded. Nate cleared his throat.

“Brad, we actually—we, uh, have something we wanted to tell you. Ray and I—for the past few weeks—well, we’ve been getting to know each other better ever since we got back from Iraq, and about a month ago—”

“We’re fucking,” Ray interrupted.

Brad took a sip from his beer, looking between the two of them. He set the bottle down.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah—what do you mean, yeah?” Nate demanded.

“I mean, yeah, you are, obviously. Do you want a medal or something? I mean, congrats, I’m happy for you, whatever.”

Ray glanced at Nate, who looked just as dumbstruck as he felt.

“How did you find out?” he spluttered. Brad lifted his eyebrows.

“Hello, my name is Brad Colbert, and I’m a marine with the First Reconnaissance Battalion.”

“So you’ve known for a while?” Nate asked.

“Pretty much the whole time.”

“You never said anything!”

“I prefer to speak about personal matters as little as possible. Again, this seems like basic information I shouldn’t have to impart at this late stage in our friendship.”

“And you’re like—cool with it?” Ray asked slowly. “You’re not going to, like, lecture us or…?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Stuff.”

“I’m reasonably certain you can figure out sex on your own. Safe sex, even. The internet is a wonderful resource. Beyond that…” Brad’s face softened just a little bit. He fixed his eyes on the scrolling credits to preserve his reputation. “You’re both good guys and I like you and I hope you’re happy together.”

“Awwww,” Ray cooed.

“Thanks, Brad,” Nate said warmly. Brad shrugged and took another sip from his beer.