Return 5/? - RvB
Title: Return 5/?
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Pairing: A new twist on Grif/Simmons
Rating: PG-13 again. Plot time, anyone?
Word Count: 755 (I really have a knack for writing even-numbered stories. Without even trying, either. o_O)
Summary: He felt like his entire life was leading up to that very moment...
Disclaimer: If Red vs Blue were mine, it would be much, much more gay.
A/N: Sorry this is getting so long, guys. I swear I didn't plan it being this ridiculous, but it's kind of turning into an epic. Plotwise, I'm pretty sure this only about the halfway mark, maybe a tiny bit over. So, either brace yourself for much more lame Grif/Simmons from me, or welcome it with open arms. Your pick. ;]
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
---
"I always knew you were a good soldier, Simmons," Sarge said approvingly as he watched Simmons scrub the battered sides of the warthog with an equally battered steel sponge. He nodded once sharply as if reaffirming his statement and then started back toward the base. "Don't forget ta use the body wax!" he called over his shoulder before he disappeared into the cool, shadowed doorway.
Simmons groaned, pausing to wipe the sheen of sweat off of his brow. "When I'm finished with this, I'm going to kill someone," he muttered, forcing himself to stop his thought process before he started thinking of who, exactly, would be receiving his punishment. He shivered slightly at the golden bubbles rising in his chest and started scrubbing again feverishly.
The dusty tromp of jelly sandals signaled Donut's arrival as he squatted beside Simmons with a glass of water outstretched. Little beads of condensation clung to the glass and slicked Simmons' fingers as he took it from the pink private gratefully and swallowed a long gulp.
"So," Donut said, crossing his arms over his knees. "Are you going to fill me in?"
"On what?" Simmons muttered, not looking the other private in the eyes as he set the glass on the ground beside him and started up again, rasping the sponge over the warthog's bumper half-heartedly.
"You know... Grif."
Simmons started scrubbing harder. "What if there's nothing to say?" he tried to respond coolly, but his voice cracked.
"Bull. Shit." Donut lifted a hand and slapped the back of Simmons' head. He jumped in surprise and then glared back at Donut.
"What was that for?!"
Donut rocked back and forth on his heels, trying not to laugh. "Dude, I already know you've got feelings for him. So spill already."
"I don't have feelings for him," Simmons denied lamely.
"So what the hell happened at breakfast today?" Donut raised one perfect eyebrow and smirked.
Simmons didn't answer, instead letting his gaze fall back to the steel sponge in his hand.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Donut asked in a gentler tone.
There were a few moments of silence, then Simmons murmured, "I don't know."
"You should tell him!" Donut exclaimed, eyes bright with optimism. "Better to have loved and lost the lottery than lost the lottery and not loved, right?"
Simmons cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, something like that."
"But seriously, I've seen him looking at you weird sometimes, and I'm pret-ty sure he likes you just as much as you like him. This could totally work out!" If his eyes had shone any brighter, they would have dwarfed the sun.
Something akin to hope bloomed deep within Simmons' heart, but he tried to ignore it. "I'll think about it," he finally responded, hoping the ambiguity of his meaning would placate Donut and get him to leave.
"Okay, but you better tell him sometime soon, or I'm going to tell him for you."
"What?! That wasn't part of the deal!" Simmons dropped the steel sponge and spun around to stare at Donut with large, frightened eyes.
Donut shrugged. "Too bad. You guys need to get over this sometime, so I might as well help you along."
"Donut..!" Simmons wanted to curl up at the nest of snakes in his abdomen (it had to be snakes, didn't it, such a horrible horrible feeling from a horrible horrible animal) but instead settled for grabbing Donut's shirt and shaking it forcefully a few times. "Don't tell him! I'll tell him, I promise I'll tell him if you promise you won't!"
A small smile pulled at Donut's mouth. "Okay, deal."
Simmons let go of him abruptly, sighing with the deepest relief he'd ever felt. "Don't scare me like that," he muttered, breathing hard.
"Well, if I learned one thing from Sarge, it's that scare tactics get results."
"Oh, fuck you."
"I think you should save that for when you talk to the person who you really want to fuck...!" And then Donut was off, running sloppily in his sandals and laughing at his own forwardness. Simmons shook his head, too wrapped up in his own emotions to give chase. His heart leapt into his throat as he pondered on what Donut had said, tingling with a full-body flush. He sighed wistfully and picked up the discarded sponge, setting to work on the bumper again.
But this time, instead of blocking out the face that kept materializing in the warthog's reflective plating, he smiled at it, and maybe even imagined it smiling back.
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Pairing: A new twist on Grif/Simmons
Rating: PG-13 again. Plot time, anyone?
Word Count: 755 (I really have a knack for writing even-numbered stories. Without even trying, either. o_O)
Summary: He felt like his entire life was leading up to that very moment...
Disclaimer: If Red vs Blue were mine, it would be much, much more gay.
A/N: Sorry this is getting so long, guys. I swear I didn't plan it being this ridiculous, but it's kind of turning into an epic. Plotwise, I'm pretty sure this only about the halfway mark, maybe a tiny bit over. So, either brace yourself for much more lame Grif/Simmons from me, or welcome it with open arms. Your pick. ;]
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
---
"I always knew you were a good soldier, Simmons," Sarge said approvingly as he watched Simmons scrub the battered sides of the warthog with an equally battered steel sponge. He nodded once sharply as if reaffirming his statement and then started back toward the base. "Don't forget ta use the body wax!" he called over his shoulder before he disappeared into the cool, shadowed doorway.
Simmons groaned, pausing to wipe the sheen of sweat off of his brow. "When I'm finished with this, I'm going to kill someone," he muttered, forcing himself to stop his thought process before he started thinking of who, exactly, would be receiving his punishment. He shivered slightly at the golden bubbles rising in his chest and started scrubbing again feverishly.
The dusty tromp of jelly sandals signaled Donut's arrival as he squatted beside Simmons with a glass of water outstretched. Little beads of condensation clung to the glass and slicked Simmons' fingers as he took it from the pink private gratefully and swallowed a long gulp.
"So," Donut said, crossing his arms over his knees. "Are you going to fill me in?"
"On what?" Simmons muttered, not looking the other private in the eyes as he set the glass on the ground beside him and started up again, rasping the sponge over the warthog's bumper half-heartedly.
"You know... Grif."
Simmons started scrubbing harder. "What if there's nothing to say?" he tried to respond coolly, but his voice cracked.
"Bull. Shit." Donut lifted a hand and slapped the back of Simmons' head. He jumped in surprise and then glared back at Donut.
"What was that for?!"
Donut rocked back and forth on his heels, trying not to laugh. "Dude, I already know you've got feelings for him. So spill already."
"I don't have feelings for him," Simmons denied lamely.
"So what the hell happened at breakfast today?" Donut raised one perfect eyebrow and smirked.
Simmons didn't answer, instead letting his gaze fall back to the steel sponge in his hand.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Donut asked in a gentler tone.
There were a few moments of silence, then Simmons murmured, "I don't know."
"You should tell him!" Donut exclaimed, eyes bright with optimism. "Better to have loved and lost the lottery than lost the lottery and not loved, right?"
Simmons cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, something like that."
"But seriously, I've seen him looking at you weird sometimes, and I'm pret-ty sure he likes you just as much as you like him. This could totally work out!" If his eyes had shone any brighter, they would have dwarfed the sun.
Something akin to hope bloomed deep within Simmons' heart, but he tried to ignore it. "I'll think about it," he finally responded, hoping the ambiguity of his meaning would placate Donut and get him to leave.
"Okay, but you better tell him sometime soon, or I'm going to tell him for you."
"What?! That wasn't part of the deal!" Simmons dropped the steel sponge and spun around to stare at Donut with large, frightened eyes.
Donut shrugged. "Too bad. You guys need to get over this sometime, so I might as well help you along."
"Donut..!" Simmons wanted to curl up at the nest of snakes in his abdomen (it had to be snakes, didn't it, such a horrible horrible feeling from a horrible horrible animal) but instead settled for grabbing Donut's shirt and shaking it forcefully a few times. "Don't tell him! I'll tell him, I promise I'll tell him if you promise you won't!"
A small smile pulled at Donut's mouth. "Okay, deal."
Simmons let go of him abruptly, sighing with the deepest relief he'd ever felt. "Don't scare me like that," he muttered, breathing hard.
"Well, if I learned one thing from Sarge, it's that scare tactics get results."
"Oh, fuck you."
"I think you should save that for when you talk to the person who you really want to fuck...!" And then Donut was off, running sloppily in his sandals and laughing at his own forwardness. Simmons shook his head, too wrapped up in his own emotions to give chase. His heart leapt into his throat as he pondered on what Donut had said, tingling with a full-body flush. He sighed wistfully and picked up the discarded sponge, setting to work on the bumper again.
But this time, instead of blocking out the face that kept materializing in the warthog's reflective plating, he smiled at it, and maybe even imagined it smiling back.