prompt ( powerfulpomegranate ) [ANGST PROMPT]: Grif and Simmons drift apart and years later, before he knows it, Simmons gets a wedding invitation in the mail. Could be "Took a Wrong Turn at Normal"-verse except they never patched things up. :D
A/N: WOW THIS HURT. Thank you, Becky 3 In all seriousness, though, if anyone hasn't read "Took a Wrong Turn at Normal" and is interested in a happy ending click the title for the link lol
Red vs Blue and related properties © Rooster Teeth
story © RenaRoo
Time's a Funny Thing
He was going through the mail he had picked up on his way up to the apartment, nice and orderly. Even if he wasn't opening it yet, there was no reason to not have it arranged in the best order to open it as he made the climb. Donut's words were still ringing in his ears.
Apparently he didn't get out enough and he didn't go with him and Doc to dinner enough over the past few years. None of which was wrong. But Simmons had spent the last three years being excruciatingly tired of being everyone's third wheel.
Simmons had never been a third wheel before.
Going through the mail was usually a mindless task and he could have continued to obsess over Donut's words for a good hour or two more, but a casual glance toward a sending address sent a chill throughout Simmons' body.
Stopping in his tracks, Simmons stared at the envelope and looked at the name — the address could not have been less familiar, save for it being from Hawaii, but the name…
Dexter Grif.
"Oh my god," Simmons said, heart pounding in his chest before he took off to his apartment, nearly yanked the door off its hinges, and shut it behind him. Like some kind of teenage girl who had been passed a note. But Simmons hadn't cared.
He couldn't have cared less, not when he was finally hearing back from Grif.
Years ago, Simmons had… Well, he had made a reasonable request. A request that should have been reasonable at any rate. The idea was that if they weren't going to be a couple, then he and Grif needed to not fuck around when they were seeing other people. And while Grif's reaction had been strained at best, it was ultimately something he had also agreed to.
And from that point on, that was exactly what they did. Until the point that Simmons realized he could not stand the paper thin walls of their shared apartment any longer and moved out. Started exploring, and failing, at dating even more than before. And Grif…
Well. Grif went home. And Simmons didn't follow.
Hands shaking, Simmons tore open the letter only to find… a card.
It wasn't Simmons' birthday, or any important date to them as Reds. At least he was almost certain it wasn't. Until he pulled the card from the envelope and saw…
He saw…
Richard Simmons,
You are cordially invited to the union of—
His eyes ran over the rest of the words in the note, but Simmons' brain did not accept them. Really, if anything, his brain felt as though the gears had ground themselves in to a full halt. He was dumbfounded by the card.
It was an invitation.
It was an invitation to Grif's wedding.
He let the letter slip from his fingers and he stared into the space it once occupied, mouth opened and incapable of forming anything but the dry noise rasping from his throat.
"Oh," he finally formed, glancing down to his feet where the card had fallen. "Oh… good… that's. For Grif. That's… so good." He lowered down, right knee hitting the carpet as he shakily tried to pick the card back up. "That's so good… for Grif… for him… and… and…"
Simmons didn't even know who Grif's significant other was. He didn't know if they treated Grif right or if they knew his favorite show to marathon on a bad day was MST3k or if they talked about the ethics of Star Wars with him on the level that Simmons could or if or if… or if…
The card fell again but Simmons didn't grab for it, instead placing his head in his hands and trembling from head to toe. His left knee also hit the carpet.
"Good… good… good for him…" Simmons kept repeating, hoping he would eventually mean it.
All he could think about was that day, the day he said they should see other people, and the look of bewilderment and upset that flickered on Grif's face before he agreed. All Simmons could think about was how they had something good for both of them and he had fucked it up.
He fucked it up.
And now he was a third wheel.
