Amihan (ə-'mi-hən) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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greenstickered2017-11-20 11:03 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2017-11-20 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
Uncharted fic fragments circa 2014: untitled Nate/Jeff unrequited crush
Notes (also circa 2014): Started life as a joke scribbled into ![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
beltsquid's ask box after she tagged an Uncharted edit set of mine jokingly suggesting Nate/Jeff. The moral of the story is don't joke about ships around a person who's written Nate/security guy in the Istanbul Museum.
2017 note: When I say "fragments", I mean "this is unfinished and will not be finished but here's what I had in case someone enjoys it".
"Whoa!"
There's a guy in his way, white, taller than him, and pointing a gun at him, but not wearing the Kevlar or helmets he and Elena have seen other big white guys running around in, and unlike the mercenaries, this guy's hot in a rugged, desperately needs-a-shave way. But mostly, he's pointing a gun at him. Jeff throws up an arm as if that will stop a bullet.
"Hey - hey - don't shoot!"
Elena had told him a lot of stories about how reckless and thoughtless her ex was, but she hadn't mentioned how ruggedly handsome Drake was, how his body would feel pinned under his, how much it would sting when he refused a hand up. Jeff tried not to stare as Elena interrogated him. Just check the camera, he told himself.
Jeff observes. He's a cameraman, it's what he does for a living, but sometimes he wonders if it's easier for him because it was such a natural thing from years of being in the closet, of feeling like the outsider, of not wanting to step in and participate in case he did the wrong thing and got found out and shunned.
It's not just his eye for a well composed shot that makes him a good cameraman, it's his eye for human behavior. Of course, you'd have to be a moron to miss the tension between Elena, Drake, and Chloe, so thick he's pretty sure it would be bulletproof, but he'd like to think he's catching the nuances: Elena and Drake are still into each other, despite the bad ending Elena's never talked about but that always seemed obvious. But Drake's with this Chloe girl now.
That makes at least two girls in his dating history, so even if he weren't currently taken and he wasn't Elena's ex, it would probably be a bad idea to hit on him.
Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong connection. But it can't stop him from observing.
"We'll be right back!"
Elena scowls and sits down as the doors close behind Nate and Chloe. "Famous last words. One time he told me that and I literally got kidnapped."
Jeff raises an eyebrow. She's complained, yes, but she hasn't exactly gone into a lot of detail on their history together.
"I'll tell you later," she says. "We should, uh, write our notes. Check what you've got so far. Try to figure out where we are - Nate doesn't exactly believe in maps."
Jeff considers himself an optimist. Maybe it's not quite Elena's brand of optimism where she believes the world will get better on investigative journalism and willpower - the world is fucked and he's not quite convinced journalism can do much to change that - but he's optimistic on the individual level. He believes Elena's going to find Lazarevic. He believes he's one day going to find a guy who likes him back.
He genuinely, desperately believes, when he says, "I'm okay," that he's going to survive this gunshot wound.
Maybe he wouldn't believe that if he'd paid more attention in college biology classes, if he'd watched more medical dramas, if his ideas of what a person could feasibly survive were based more in reality and less in Man Vs. Wild and action movies. Maybe he wouldn't if Elena didn't keep shooting him terrified looks in between shooting at Lazarevic's men (at least, they fit the profile they've been building of his men).
Elena fires blindly over the crate, and he winces sympathetically as he hears a groan from some guy she's probably shot.
"Of course I'll get through this," he says patiently. "You still owe me one."
"What?"
"Your story," he gets out. "About the time you got kidnapped because Drake said he'd be right back."
The pain in her eyes when she looks back at him probably matches what he's feeling, if he's really honest.
"He's hit," Elena says anxiously, and Drake kneels down beside him.
"I'm okay," he manages to get out.
"Lemme see."
Drake takes his hand to draw it away from the wound, and Jeff considers himself an optimistist because he can still, somewhere in a distant part of his mind which is pretending he hasn't been shot, find joy in the fact that Drake is touching him.
2017 note: When I say "fragments", I mean "this is unfinished and will not be finished but here's what I had in case someone enjoys it".
"Whoa!"
There's a guy in his way, white, taller than him, and pointing a gun at him, but not wearing the Kevlar or helmets he and Elena have seen other big white guys running around in, and unlike the mercenaries, this guy's hot in a rugged, desperately needs-a-shave way. But mostly, he's pointing a gun at him. Jeff throws up an arm as if that will stop a bullet.
"Hey - hey - don't shoot!"
Elena had told him a lot of stories about how reckless and thoughtless her ex was, but she hadn't mentioned how ruggedly handsome Drake was, how his body would feel pinned under his, how much it would sting when he refused a hand up. Jeff tried not to stare as Elena interrogated him. Just check the camera, he told himself.
Jeff observes. He's a cameraman, it's what he does for a living, but sometimes he wonders if it's easier for him because it was such a natural thing from years of being in the closet, of feeling like the outsider, of not wanting to step in and participate in case he did the wrong thing and got found out and shunned.
It's not just his eye for a well composed shot that makes him a good cameraman, it's his eye for human behavior. Of course, you'd have to be a moron to miss the tension between Elena, Drake, and Chloe, so thick he's pretty sure it would be bulletproof, but he'd like to think he's catching the nuances: Elena and Drake are still into each other, despite the bad ending Elena's never talked about but that always seemed obvious. But Drake's with this Chloe girl now.
That makes at least two girls in his dating history, so even if he weren't currently taken and he wasn't Elena's ex, it would probably be a bad idea to hit on him.
Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong connection. But it can't stop him from observing.
"We'll be right back!"
Elena scowls and sits down as the doors close behind Nate and Chloe. "Famous last words. One time he told me that and I literally got kidnapped."
Jeff raises an eyebrow. She's complained, yes, but she hasn't exactly gone into a lot of detail on their history together.
"I'll tell you later," she says. "We should, uh, write our notes. Check what you've got so far. Try to figure out where we are - Nate doesn't exactly believe in maps."
Jeff considers himself an optimist. Maybe it's not quite Elena's brand of optimism where she believes the world will get better on investigative journalism and willpower - the world is fucked and he's not quite convinced journalism can do much to change that - but he's optimistic on the individual level. He believes Elena's going to find Lazarevic. He believes he's one day going to find a guy who likes him back.
He genuinely, desperately believes, when he says, "I'm okay," that he's going to survive this gunshot wound.
Maybe he wouldn't believe that if he'd paid more attention in college biology classes, if he'd watched more medical dramas, if his ideas of what a person could feasibly survive were based more in reality and less in Man Vs. Wild and action movies. Maybe he wouldn't if Elena didn't keep shooting him terrified looks in between shooting at Lazarevic's men (at least, they fit the profile they've been building of his men).
Elena fires blindly over the crate, and he winces sympathetically as he hears a groan from some guy she's probably shot.
"Of course I'll get through this," he says patiently. "You still owe me one."
"What?"
"Your story," he gets out. "About the time you got kidnapped because Drake said he'd be right back."
The pain in her eyes when she looks back at him probably matches what he's feeling, if he's really honest.
"He's hit," Elena says anxiously, and Drake kneels down beside him.
"I'm okay," he manages to get out.
"Lemme see."
Drake takes his hand to draw it away from the wound, and Jeff considers himself an optimistist because he can still, somewhere in a distant part of his mind which is pretending he hasn't been shot, find joy in the fact that Drake is touching him.