[The job was quick, efficient, and painless: the kind of job that goes off without a hitch and the kind of job that Sam always says isn't quite as exciting for the lack of gunfire and conflict, but at least nobody got hurt. It was a three-person deal, anyway, with an extra mouth to run and another body to get around the site.
Harry Flynn was a friend.
Sure, Nate met him once or twice before, always briefly, and never for work. It wasn't until Sam brought up the short trip to Guarchaca and how it might be a good idea to employ extra muscle that Nate saw Harry again, still lean and tall with a ritzy accent and a package of cigarettes on hand. They both smoked like chimneys and they both shared a dialogue of experienced thieves, something that really started to grate on Nate when they weren't up to sharing details.
All forgotten now when they lifted the artifact they needed and the sun was hanging low over the far left of the beach, casting a purplish-gold tint over the sand, their beaten cooler and a bag of something from the local economy mart. Meats and thick bread, the former of which was skewered and resting on a thin grille over the fire.]
Hey, are you guys going swimming?
[Wearing trunks and a t-shirt, hand curled over his forehead to shield from the sunset edging at the horizon, Nate squints at Harry and Sam, both of whom are settled contently in lounge chair. Sam waves a dismissive hand at him which suggests they might have forgotten something at the store, so he turns to Flynn.]
You just gonna watch?
Just pretend these icons are of early 20s Bradley Cooper.
[Harry's met Sam's little brother a handful of times before, when he was far younger and still growing into his limbs. He was skeptical about joining a job with him on it, for no other reason than his age. He was 17 when he was staring in on more serious heists, but he also remembers the mistakes he used to make then as fresh as he was.
But the younger Drake pulls through, and Harry comes out of the whole affair thoroughly impressed. It's enough that Harry lets him have the honor of taking the first beer of the night. And in the hours since, the awkward of new friendship has melted into something a little less awkward.
Thanks in no small part to the alcohol, of course.]
Oooh, of course. I bet you put on a wonderful show.
[He snorts, and Sam laughs with him at the absurdity of it. Nate's a nice kid, but he's awkward, the expense of living his adolescent years on the run and away from his peers. He figures the kid'll grow out of it soon; Harry did about the same time, and though it's been less than five years since he was Nate's age, it feels like a lifetime of development.
Harry suggested once that Sam get him a hooked and have him work through it all on one night. He definitely noticed that Sam didn't shoot the idea down.]
They're on the north coast of Colombia and all they want to do is stretch out like a bunch of beach bums with cheap cerveza and whatever weed Harry has stuffed into the recesses of his deep pockets. The humidity's gone down, the heat isn't nearly as oppressive, and there's a cool breeze rolling over the Caribbean sea. With a beer lining his stomach Nate rolls his eyes with the practiced sarcasm of a teenager and eyes Sam again.
His older brother catches the look and grins, shaking his head. "No, no, little brother, I gotta run back to the store anyway. We need more booze. Try not to get eaten by a shark."]
Ugh, fine.
[Grabbing for the hem of his ratty t-shirt, Nate drags it over his head and tosses it into the nearest duffel bag - when they're all staying in the same crappy motel, what's it matter? - and turns back to the ocean before taking off with a sprint and a holler.]
[His friend just waves him off with a laugh, and trudges back up the beach to replenish their woefully low beer booze levels. Between he and Sam, they put a bigger dent in it than they planned for, but it's no matter. Not like he's drunk, in any case, just pleasantly buzzed and glad for it.
Harry watches his friend go for a moment, then turns back to Nate to make some comment about making sure the shark'll only get a taste, but all he does is choke on his next swig of beer. He hasn't seen Nate shirtless yet- and why would he?- so the sight is...well. Harry hand given any thought to it before, but he's surprised to see just how fit he is. He's lean and tanned, and the way the sun hits his body sharply defines the lines of his muscles. "Gorgeous" has never before crossed his mind in relation to another man, but it sure does right now.
Harry doesn't even have time to gather his thoughts before Nate is running off into the surf, and he's distressed to find his back is just as sculpted. What the fuck? ]
[Completely unaware of Harry Flynn's internal struggle and mild existential crisis, Nate spends the better part of the waning sunlight doing a few laps out before swimming back to shore, kicking around in the sand for choice shells. When nothing appeals to him before long he's trudging to the dune and their half-empty cooler, soaking wet and salty.]
Hey.
[Nate lingers by the fire, feeling the water dry on his skin and crack into stuff he might as well sprinkle over their shish kebabs for flavor. Sam hasn't yet returned if his empty chair is any indication, but it's not as though they're in any particular hurry. When Nate's primary to-do list consists of making trouble and having a good time doing so, he isn't ever at a loss.
Eventually a chill will get to him and he'll have to retrieve his previously discarded shirt, but it's warm enough now in the general proximity of their not-quite-bonfire.]
You missed out on some nice wa-aves, [he informs Harry in a tone that's bordering on sing-song, and Nate rakes a hand through his crisping Caribbean water hair before reaching out.] You wanna hand me a beer?
[While Drake the younger swims around in blissful ignorance, Harry continues his internal crisis on land, aided by half a pack of cigarettes. What in the bloody, fucking hell? This is new, to say the least. He's been a fan of the ladies for as long as he can remember, maybe a little too big a fan. Sure, he'd had mates as a teen that maybe experimenting went a little too far, but it's not something that happens. At all. Ever. And he's always been easy with physical affection, but it's a universal thing.
This is unprecedented.
Nate's terribly distracting out there, splashing around like he is. But it's easy calm his nerves from here, with him too far away to see clearly. He's almost feeling normal again, ready to chalk the moment up to too much sun and not enough tail, when Nate makes his way back up the beach. Harry almost inhales his entire cigarette. His wet shorts cling to his form obscenely, fabric practically pasted to his arse with loving detail. One could be forgiven for staring, he thinks. It's just right there.
What?
[Harry shakes himself out of his reverie, looking up Nate's hard form (christ) to his face. He's never realized just how good looking Nate is until this moment. "Cute" is the first word that comes to mind, really. He's got a sharp jaw that hints at handsome, but his eyes are too soft to call it that. And fuck, his mouth is something he's only ever seen on women who tend to suck your soul out through your cock and leave you aching.
Not a bad thing, definitely.]
Oh, yeah. Sure.
[He shakes his head a little to clear that image, and leans over to fish out one of their remaining beers. Sam better hurry back, they're going to run out soon, and Harry would rather not be sober right now.]
[Thinking of himself from a physical standpoint, Nate would argue that he's some kind of lean cross between a runner and a swimmer, and if he slowed down for more than five seconds he might become indolent and complacent enough to gain a pound of something that isn't strictly muscle. Unlike his older brother, he doesn't have much more than a dusting of hair, and that alone probably makes him look younger than he already is.]
Dontcha love when the water makes your pants all weird,
[Nate mumbles, shifting uncomfortably and regretting his lack of foresight about a bathing suit. He pulls up a log left over from someone's driftwood castle and plants it next to Harry's beach couch, accepting the beer.]
It was warm.
[He pops the cap, flipping it into the fire with his thumb.]
The Caribbean Sea is always warmer, and the Gulf always has these- [For a moment Nate leans back, wrinkling his nose and trying to feel out a particular shape in the air.] Sticky algae things. The last thing you want wrapped around your leg is something slimy, right?
[He laughs. Glancing out to sea and the sun setting on the far left edge of the water Nate chews his lip, distracted away from company by the view and the compulsive need to capture the moment on paper even if he knows it won't be the same. His fingers tap the sides of the bottle and he can feel unused energy in the foot he's bouncing, burying it in the sand to keep it quiet. When Nate jerks his attention back to Harry it is sudden, inquisitive.]
[Shirtless, Sam Drake looks like a bear rug, on a good day. His brother isn't as ursine, and the thought crossed his mind that maybe it's just because he's not quite done with sprouting it in the first place.By all rights, that should make him ashamed enough of himself that he shakes this bizzare notion off and go back to chasing the bikinis that keep wandering up and down the beach at odd intervals.
No such luck. ]
Heh, yeah.
[The wet cloth does wonders for Nate's form. It's a shame he's not stripped to his pants (what the hell, Harry), he wonders idly. It'd be an even better view.
SAM, YES. SAM. Samuel Drake, one of Harry's best friends. Sam, who adores his little brother with a ferocity he doesn't think he could even muster for his parents, let alone his little sister. Sam, who would definitely strangle anyone who would touch Nathan anywhere that isn't generally shown to the public.
That Sam. Haha.]
We met maybe three years ago? I was "on holiday" [Note the air quotes.] in Bogotá, and we kind of....ran perpendicular of each other for the job he was running. But we decided to join forces and we came out of it with more money that we were gonna make in the first place.
And so much cocaine. It was amazing, and I only got shot at twice.
[Nate repeats with an incredulous tone, wrinkling his nose. Colombia isn't a country that's a stranger to the drug trade, he knows the cartel happens to be happily settled somewhere in the jungle, but it's not an industry he would have anticipated Sam dipping a toe in unless his hands (and nose) stayed clean.
His concern is probably obvious, because Nate hasn't yet learned how to mask his emotions. (The bit about getting shot at only comes across as a mild annoyance, because Nate had his fill of gunfire at the tender age of fifteen and he isn't that eager to revisit it.)]
Do you- do you do that stuff? Does Sam?
[He gives the guy next to him an unsure look, one that hopes his sibling isn't getting into heavier crap than they can get out of. Petty thievery is easier.]
[Harry's in the middle of draining his beer when he sees that real concern on Nate's face, out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't really thought it would surprise him, given the nature of all their work, but maybe that particular story was a bit...much? A bit much, yeah.]
I do- [Harry stops short then to carefully consider what he should say next.] You've got to understand, when I took that job, I wasn't quite in the life. Only when I met Sam that I started sticking with acquisitions entirely. He wasn't involved with, y'know. All that.
[And no, that's not an answer to either question, but it really isn't his place to tell Nate things about his older brother. He gives him a tight smile, patting his thigh reassuringly. And then squeezing his thigh reassuringly. Jesus, he's solid.]
[Nate's personal experience with the cartel is slim, but in Colombia it isn't wise to run afoul of any of the primary distributors and knowing that Sam had a brief hand in that once is concerning - not for the potential drug use, but for the members of the country's biggest murderous organization. "Cutthroat" is a gentle term for describing their methods.
Bolstered by Harry's reassurance, however, Nate's shoulders relax and he nods a little, eyeing the hand on his thigh with a mildly incredulous look. (It isn't that Flynn has been excessively frosty toward him for a long time, as he comes across an affectionate guy, but Nate always thought it would be an actual decade until he earned some kind of approval from Harry to participate in the jobs he and Sam run. It's nice to know Flynn has warmed up to him.)]
Oh, right. You got it.
[Slipping away from his piece of driftwood, Nate rounds the fire to flip the top on their cooler and rummage through its contents: cerveza, cerveza, a flask with unknown contents, an unmarked bottle with a peeled label, cerveza. Nate pulls out an Aguila and frowns into the fire for a moment, a quick glance over his shoulder and down the beach, before moving back to Harry's side. He offers him the beer.]
[Nate's reaction is a bit of a surprise, but he doesn't seem to be repelled by it so he doesn't worry too much. It's not exactly the first time he's touched Nate- there've been back pats, hair ruffling, things you'd do to a friend's kid brother. But it's the first time he's touched him with any sort of camaraderie, like he does with Sam.
Sam doesn't get a hand quite that far up his thigh, but whatever. Same thing.
He takes the beer from Nate and immedeately pries the cap off with his teeth. Sure, there's a bottle opener, but it's allllll the way over there. He's got strong teeth, it's not a problem.]
Sure. What's got your trousers in a twist?
[Harry looks down the beach too, curious to see what Nate's looking for. Huh, nothing.]
[His eyebrows just about touch his hairline when Flynn bites the damn cap off, and it makes Nate's pop with his bare hand look like such a pussy move. It's not that he isn't confident in his own skills, or too self-absorbed not to admire Harry's, but it's a stark reminder of comparative experience and that's exactly the kind of thing he wanted to (anxiously) talk about.]
Well, uh.
[Beer in his nervous grasp, Nate continues to peel strips of the label free, curls of damp paper on the sand between his feet.]
I'm not- [He starts. Stops. Starts again.] I haven't-
[Nate casts another glance down the beach in the direction that Sam disappeared, to hit up the local corner store for them in the hopes they might sell him another case of beer. As difficult as it is for him to form the words - to a sort-of friend, anyway - it would be a lot harder if Sam were to return mid-conversation.]
...Sam's been trying to- he keeps pushing girls on me. And. I haven't exactly...been with one. Before. You always seem pretty good with women, a-and I can't talk to Sam about this-
[If a beer could ever be medicinal, it would be right about now. Harry's caught between the chills and overheating, and if he didn't know better he'd suspect he'd been slipped something. But no. No, it was just himself, teetering on the edge of being a pervert. He takes a few deep pulls from his bottle, draining half before he thinks he's calmed himself enough.
Welp. ]
Wh-
[Harry chokes on a mouthful of beer, but thankfully he only inhales a little. The coughing isn't so bad.]
Oh. Ah, alright. Well. Sam's just looking out for you, yeah? It's harder to make a connection when you're on the move like you two are, so he just...[Wait a tic.] You said you haven't been with a girl before. Have you...?
["Sam looking out for Nate" is a Hell of a lot different from this, because this is "Sam trying to get his little brother laid," which wouldn't be problematic if Nate had any remote experience in the act. (He's not an idiot, he knows how babies are made even if the orphanage was lacking in its sex education for middle-schoolers, but everything tends to sound all right in theory.)]
I haven't...at all,
[Nate grits, feeling his cheeks grow hot in the fading light. He'd chalk it up to sunburn if the sensation didn't come on so quickly.
There's a defiance there that is preparing itself to lash out at any potential ridicule.]
[Harry's surprised to find himself a hair disappointed, but the way he's been feeling since Nate peeled his shirt off it really shouldn't be. More than anything it's a relief. For a moment there it looked like he was going to be the recipient of a nervous gay teenager's first coming out and Christ he was not prepared for that.
He notices that Nate doesn't chafe under the suggestion that there might've been boys, though. Interesting.]
Well. [Harry settles back into his chair, staring out at nothing in particular. Definitely not at Nate.] What are you looking for? Would you like him to stop? Because I can talk to him later and tell him to crawl back out of your arse about it. Or...
[He trails off then, chancing a look at Nate. He looks so earnest, so genuinely distressed in that way only teenagers (!) can be. Poor lad, nervous about having no skills and being a virgin (!!!), like he's some kind of freakish anomaly and not every other 17 year old ever.]
[In fairness, Nate isn't sure what he likes. Girls are pretty, definitely. Guys, yeah, they can be handsome. But he's also at a stage where he's not certain whether his appreciations for both sides are objective, but neither does it really matter. People like who they like, right?]
Tips?
[he sounds dubious, but the question lingering at the edge of his tone isn't meant to offend. Nate scrubs anxiously at the back of his neck for a moment, staring into the fire.]
Y'know, tips. Like...how to charm the knickers off a bird [He pauses, then backtracks.] O-or a bloke, I suppose, I don't really know much about that, but...
[Harry stumbles to a stop awkwardly, more lost as to how to approach this more han anything else. Maybe if Nathan here wasn't being so bleeding distracting he would have the regular, unearned confidence he usually exudes about these kinds of matters. Add to it that he's still not sure if he's actually looking for girls, and here we've got a minor internal crisis.
[This feels awkward. Nate is already getting an overwhelming sense of secondhand embarrassment just from Harry being put on the spot, and he's not even the one with the birds-and-blokes issue.]
Yes!
[Nate snaps defensively, folding his arms over his chest and protecting what little he has to protect. He's kissed, sure, sweet and quick things, a couple deliciously messy ones here and there that he sort of had to adjust to, but it's never been a major issue. Nate likes kissing, has made it one of the things he does well when the occasion arises, and he's never received any complaints.]
Yes, obviously, I've- I've made out with people before. Geez.
Hey, hey, don't get defensive. [Harry holds up a hand, as if to smooth out Nate's defensiveness manually. Which, you know, wouldn't be the total worst right now.] The way you were talking made it sound like you'd never touched a tit before, I just needed to know.
[Oh god. This is hell. Is this hell? Mum was right all along, it does exist. After a long moment of contemplation and internal distress, Harry hauls himself from his spot and reaches into the cooler for the mystery liquor bottle. No clue what it is, all Sam had said was there was an old man who he played cards with and who gave it to him. No telling what the fuck it was fermented from—and honestly? He doesn't quite care at the moment.]
D'you know if you're any good? Girls, they melt for that kind of thing, it's easy to tell if you're shit at it.
[He's touched a couple of boobs in his day, which isn't saying much at all - and shouldn't be anything to be proud of - but that's the approximate extent of his anatomical know-how regarding the fairer sex. Nate is hopelessly new at this, and doesn't think he can fend off Sam's pushing forever, but since he has so little experience he has made a point of excelling in at least one thing.]
Uh, I'm pretty damn good at it.
[Comes the confident reply, and for the first time in this conversation Nate seems to exude an earned honesty. While he may not necessarily have gotten his hands any further than second base, he has it on good authority that he is, in fact, an excellent kisser.]
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uncalendula) wrote2016-11-06 12:11 am
no subject
Harry Flynn was a friend.
Sure, Nate met him once or twice before, always briefly, and never for work. It wasn't until Sam brought up the short trip to Guarchaca and how it might be a good idea to employ extra muscle that Nate saw Harry again, still lean and tall with a ritzy accent and a package of cigarettes on hand. They both smoked like chimneys and they both shared a dialogue of experienced thieves, something that really started to grate on Nate when they weren't up to sharing details.
All forgotten now when they lifted the artifact they needed and the sun was hanging low over the far left of the beach, casting a purplish-gold tint over the sand, their beaten cooler and a bag of something from the local economy mart. Meats and thick bread, the former of which was skewered and resting on a thin grille over the fire.]
Hey, are you guys going swimming?
[Wearing trunks and a t-shirt, hand curled over his forehead to shield from the sunset edging at the horizon, Nate squints at Harry and Sam, both of whom are settled contently in lounge chair. Sam waves a dismissive hand at him which suggests they might have forgotten something at the store, so he turns to Flynn.]
You just gonna watch?
Just pretend these icons are of early 20s Bradley Cooper.
But the younger Drake pulls through, and Harry comes out of the whole affair thoroughly impressed. It's enough that Harry lets him have the honor of taking the first beer of the night. And in the hours since, the awkward of new friendship has melted into something a little less awkward.
Thanks in no small part to the alcohol, of course.]
Oooh, of course. I bet you put on a wonderful show.
[He snorts, and Sam laughs with him at the absurdity of it. Nate's a nice kid, but he's awkward, the expense of living his adolescent years on the run and away from his peers. He figures the kid'll grow out of it soon; Harry did about the same time, and though it's been less than five years since he was Nate's age, it feels like a lifetime of development.
Harry suggested once that Sam get him a hooked and have him work through it all on one night. He definitely noticed that Sam didn't shoot the idea down.]
oh i'm imagining, all right
They're on the north coast of Colombia and all they want to do is stretch out like a bunch of beach bums with cheap cerveza and whatever weed Harry has stuffed into the recesses of his deep pockets. The humidity's gone down, the heat isn't nearly as oppressive, and there's a cool breeze rolling over the Caribbean sea. With a beer lining his stomach Nate rolls his eyes with the practiced sarcasm of a teenager and eyes Sam again.
His older brother catches the look and grins, shaking his head. "No, no, little brother, I gotta run back to the store anyway. We need more booze. Try not to get eaten by a shark."]
Ugh, fine.
[Grabbing for the hem of his ratty t-shirt, Nate drags it over his head and tosses it into the nearest duffel bag - when they're all staying in the same crappy motel, what's it matter? - and turns back to the ocean before taking off with a sprint and a holler.]
B L E S S
[His friend just waves him off with a laugh, and trudges back up the beach to replenish their woefully low beer booze levels. Between he and Sam, they put a bigger dent in it than they planned for, but it's no matter. Not like he's drunk, in any case, just pleasantly buzzed and glad for it.
Harry watches his friend go for a moment, then turns back to Nate to make some comment about making sure the shark'll only get a taste, but all he does is choke on his next swig of beer. He hasn't seen Nate shirtless yet- and why would he?- so the sight is...well. Harry hand given any thought to it before, but he's surprised to see just how fit he is. He's lean and tanned, and the way the sun hits his body sharply defines the lines of his muscles. "Gorgeous" has never before crossed his mind in relation to another man, but it sure does right now.
Harry doesn't even have time to gather his thoughts before Nate is running off into the surf, and he's distressed to find his back is just as sculpted. What the fuck? ]
B)
Hey.
[Nate lingers by the fire, feeling the water dry on his skin and crack into stuff he might as well sprinkle over their shish kebabs for flavor. Sam hasn't yet returned if his empty chair is any indication, but it's not as though they're in any particular hurry. When Nate's primary to-do list consists of making trouble and having a good time doing so, he isn't ever at a loss.
Eventually a chill will get to him and he'll have to retrieve his previously discarded shirt, but it's warm enough now in the general proximity of their not-quite-bonfire.]
You missed out on some nice wa-aves, [he informs Harry in a tone that's bordering on sing-song, and Nate rakes a hand through his crisping Caribbean water hair before reaching out.] You wanna hand me a beer?
no subject
This is unprecedented.
Nate's terribly distracting out there, splashing around like he is. But it's easy calm his nerves from here, with him too far away to see clearly. He's almost feeling normal again, ready to chalk the moment up to too much sun and not enough tail, when Nate makes his way back up the beach. Harry almost inhales his entire cigarette. His wet shorts cling to his form obscenely, fabric practically pasted to his arse with loving detail. One could be forgiven for staring, he thinks. It's just right there.
What?
[Harry shakes himself out of his reverie, looking up Nate's hard form (christ) to his face. He's never realized just how good looking Nate is until this moment. "Cute" is the first word that comes to mind, really. He's got a sharp jaw that hints at handsome, but his eyes are too soft to call it that. And fuck, his mouth is something he's only ever seen on women who tend to suck your soul out through your cock and leave you aching.
Not a bad thing, definitely.]
Oh, yeah. Sure.
[He shakes his head a little to clear that image, and leans over to fish out one of their remaining beers. Sam better hurry back, they're going to run out soon, and Harry would rather not be sober right now.]
How was it?
no subject
Dontcha love when the water makes your pants all weird,
[Nate mumbles, shifting uncomfortably and regretting his lack of foresight about a bathing suit. He pulls up a log left over from someone's driftwood castle and plants it next to Harry's beach couch, accepting the beer.]
It was warm.
[He pops the cap, flipping it into the fire with his thumb.]
The Caribbean Sea is always warmer, and the Gulf always has these- [For a moment Nate leans back, wrinkling his nose and trying to feel out a particular shape in the air.] Sticky algae things. The last thing you want wrapped around your leg is something slimy, right?
[He laughs. Glancing out to sea and the sun setting on the far left edge of the water Nate chews his lip, distracted away from company by the view and the compulsive need to capture the moment on paper even if he knows it won't be the same. His fingers tap the sides of the bottle and he can feel unused energy in the foot he's bouncing, burying it in the sand to keep it quiet. When Nate jerks his attention back to Harry it is sudden, inquisitive.]
How long've you known Sam, anyway?
no subject
No such luck. ]
Heh, yeah.
[The wet cloth does wonders for Nate's form. It's a shame he's not stripped to his pants (what the hell, Harry), he wonders idly. It'd be an even better view.
SAM, YES. SAM. Samuel Drake, one of Harry's best friends. Sam, who adores his little brother with a ferocity he doesn't think he could even muster for his parents, let alone his little sister. Sam, who would definitely strangle anyone who would touch Nathan anywhere that isn't generally shown to the public.
That Sam. Haha.]
We met maybe three years ago? I was "on holiday" [Note the air quotes.] in Bogotá, and we kind of....ran perpendicular of each other for the job he was running. But we decided to join forces and we came out of it with more money that we were gonna make in the first place.
And so much cocaine. It was amazing, and I only got shot at twice.
no subject
[Nate repeats with an incredulous tone, wrinkling his nose. Colombia isn't a country that's a stranger to the drug trade, he knows the cartel happens to be happily settled somewhere in the jungle, but it's not an industry he would have anticipated Sam dipping a toe in unless his hands (and nose) stayed clean.
His concern is probably obvious, because Nate hasn't yet learned how to mask his emotions. (The bit about getting shot at only comes across as a mild annoyance, because Nate had his fill of gunfire at the tender age of fifteen and he isn't that eager to revisit it.)]
Do you- do you do that stuff? Does Sam?
[He gives the guy next to him an unsure look, one that hopes his sibling isn't getting into heavier crap than they can get out of. Petty thievery is easier.]
no subject
I do- [Harry stops short then to carefully consider what he should say next.] You've got to understand, when I took that job, I wasn't quite in the life. Only when I met Sam that I started sticking with acquisitions entirely. He wasn't involved with, y'know. All that.
[And no, that's not an answer to either question, but it really isn't his place to tell Nate things about his older brother. He gives him a tight smile, patting his thigh reassuringly. And then squeezing his thigh reassuringly. Jesus, he's solid.]
Your turn to hand me a beer.
no subject
Bolstered by Harry's reassurance, however, Nate's shoulders relax and he nods a little, eyeing the hand on his thigh with a mildly incredulous look. (It isn't that Flynn has been excessively frosty toward him for a long time, as he comes across an affectionate guy, but Nate always thought it would be an actual decade until he earned some kind of approval from Harry to participate in the jobs he and Sam run. It's nice to know Flynn has warmed up to him.)]
Oh, right. You got it.
[Slipping away from his piece of driftwood, Nate rounds the fire to flip the top on their cooler and rummage through its contents: cerveza, cerveza, a flask with unknown contents, an unmarked bottle with a peeled label, cerveza. Nate pulls out an Aguila and frowns into the fire for a moment, a quick glance over his shoulder and down the beach, before moving back to Harry's side. He offers him the beer.]
...hey, can I ask you a question?
no subject
Sam doesn't get a hand quite that far up his thigh, but whatever. Same thing.
He takes the beer from Nate and immedeately pries the cap off with his teeth. Sure, there's a bottle opener, but it's allllll the way over there. He's got strong teeth, it's not a problem.]
Sure. What's got your trousers in a twist?
[Harry looks down the beach too, curious to see what Nate's looking for. Huh, nothing.]
no subject
Well, uh.
[Beer in his nervous grasp, Nate continues to peel strips of the label free, curls of damp paper on the sand between his feet.]
I'm not- [He starts. Stops. Starts again.] I haven't-
[Nate casts another glance down the beach in the direction that Sam disappeared, to hit up the local corner store for them in the hopes they might sell him another case of beer. As difficult as it is for him to form the words - to a sort-of friend, anyway - it would be a lot harder if Sam were to return mid-conversation.]
...Sam's been trying to- he keeps pushing girls on me. And. I haven't exactly...been with one. Before. You always seem pretty good with women, a-and I can't talk to Sam about this-
no subject
Welp. ]
Wh-
[Harry chokes on a mouthful of beer, but thankfully he only inhales a little. The coughing isn't so bad.]
Oh. Ah, alright. Well. Sam's just looking out for you, yeah? It's harder to make a connection when you're on the move like you two are, so he just...[Wait a tic.] You said you haven't been with a girl before. Have you...?
no subject
I haven't...at all,
[Nate grits, feeling his cheeks grow hot in the fading light. He'd chalk it up to sunburn if the sensation didn't come on so quickly.
There's a defiance there that is preparing itself to lash out at any potential ridicule.]
...Not yet, anyway.
no subject
[Harry's surprised to find himself a hair disappointed, but the way he's been feeling since Nate peeled his shirt off it really shouldn't be. More than anything it's a relief. For a moment there it looked like he was going to be the recipient of a nervous gay teenager's first coming out and Christ he was not prepared for that.
He notices that Nate doesn't chafe under the suggestion that there might've been boys, though. Interesting.]
Well. [Harry settles back into his chair, staring out at nothing in particular. Definitely not at Nate.] What are you looking for? Would you like him to stop? Because I can talk to him later and tell him to crawl back out of your arse about it. Or...
[He trails off then, chancing a look at Nate. He looks so earnest, so genuinely distressed in that way only teenagers (!) can be. Poor lad, nervous about having no skills and being a virgin (!!!), like he's some kind of freakish anomaly and not every other 17 year old ever.]
...I can give you tips?
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Tips?
[he sounds dubious, but the question lingering at the edge of his tone isn't meant to offend. Nate scrubs anxiously at the back of his neck for a moment, staring into the fire.]
...I mean- yeah, tips would- what kind of tips?
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[Harry stumbles to a stop awkwardly, more lost as to how to approach this more han anything else. Maybe if Nathan here wasn't being so bleeding distracting he would have the regular, unearned confidence he usually exudes about these kinds of matters. Add to it that he's still not sure if he's actually looking for girls, and here we've got a minor internal crisis.
Christ. He needs whisky.]
Have you even kissed anyone yet?
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Yes!
[Nate snaps defensively, folding his arms over his chest and protecting what little he has to protect. He's kissed, sure, sweet and quick things, a couple deliciously messy ones here and there that he sort of had to adjust to, but it's never been a major issue. Nate likes kissing, has made it one of the things he does well when the occasion arises, and he's never received any complaints.]
Yes, obviously, I've- I've made out with people before. Geez.
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[Oh god. This is hell. Is this hell? Mum was right all along, it does exist. After a long moment of contemplation and internal distress, Harry hauls himself from his spot and reaches into the cooler for the mystery liquor bottle. No clue what it is, all Sam had said was there was an old man who he played cards with and who gave it to him. No telling what the fuck it was fermented from—and honestly? He doesn't quite care at the moment.]
D'you know if you're any good? Girls, they melt for that kind of thing, it's easy to tell if you're shit at it.
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Uh, I'm pretty damn good at it.
[Comes the confident reply, and for the first time in this conversation Nate seems to exude an earned honesty. While he may not necessarily have gotten his hands any further than second base, he has it on good authority that he is, in fact, an excellent kisser.]
No complaints yet.