(Originally written June 19th 2014)

Simmons was not entirely sure how he got into this position but it was all Grif's fault.

Really, he wasn't even exaggerating.

"Get. Off."

Simmons had been taking a rare break, everything that needed to be done that day accomplished with extra efficiency. It was just before dusk and he had about a half hour before it was his turn to start making food.

He had just been dozing off when a body fell on him, all the air in his lungs leaving with a whoosh.

Grif had landed on him, sans armor, thank god, but the man was still heavy, all his weight spread out from Simmons' chest, down his stomach, and to his thighs.

The other man seemed quite content with his resting place, rubbing his face on Simmons' maroon shirt.

"I said, get off."

"Nah."

"'Nah?' Get off of me, fatass!"

Grif ignored him, closing his eyes. "You were too busy filing paperwork so I had to go patrolling alone, no Warthog 'cause Sarge didn't see the point in wasting the gas if it was just me, so now I'm tired and it's all your fault. So shut up and take your cuddles like a man."

"But you're sweaty!"

Grif snorted. "You weren't complaining about it last night."

"That was in a completely different context."

"Who cares? We're both horizontal so I don't think the context makes much difference."

"It makes all the difference!"

Grif didn't seem to care though, if the snores Simmons started hearing could be trusted.

Simmons groaned. There was no way he could lift Grif off him. Simmons didn't really mind the cuddling so much, sometimes it was nice to wind down, but his self-imposed break was coming to an end and he needed to get up or else someone would come looking for them and Simmons really didn't need anyone to see them like this. Their relationship wasn't exactly out in the open and Simmons really didn't want to deal with Donut's cooing or Sarge's questions about his life choices. Him and Grif may have been in the somewhat-privacy of their shared room, but sooner or later someone was going to come looking for him, and he'd rather not have to explain this.

Simmons poked Grif in the side and continued to poke him until he started to stir.

Grif woke up with an aborted laugh, "Hey! Stop that! Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

"Can't you see I'm trying to get up?"

"Take a break."

"I did, now it's over and it's my turn to cook tonight."

"Let Donut do it."

"Donut cooked yesterday. He can't cook today, that'd be two days in a row! It would completely throw off my chore wheel."

"No one follows that thing anyway."

"Well, I do and I don't want it getting messed up."

"Eh, you'll live."

"You won't."

"What are you gonna do, string bean? You're trapped and I'm not going anywhere."

Simmons was quiet, not rising to the bait. That was not a good quiet.

Grif looked up, catching a look passing over the other man's face. "Simmons? I don't like that face, Simmons."

"What face?"

"That face." Grif punctuated the statement by waving a finger in front of Simmons' nose. "That's your evil face."

"I don't have an evil face."

"Yes, you do."

"Alright, yeah, I do." And with that Simmons slipped his fingers under Grif's shirt, poking the larger man where he knew would get a rise out of him.

"Simmons!" Grif crowed, trying to jerk away from Simmons' hands but too stubborn to get up.

"You getting up yet?"

"N-ha-never!"

"Okay then."

Grif tried to retaliate by going after Simmons' sides, but it did nothing.

It went on like this for a while, Grif laughing while trying to find Simmons' ticklish spots, Grif failing, and Simmons mentally cheering in victory.

Eventually, Grif gave up retaliating all together, too exhausted from laughing to put up anymore of a fight. Grif eventually rolled off the bed, landing face first on the floor, giggling into the pillow he managed to take down with him.

Simmons got up, stretched his legs from where they were attempting to fall asleep, and went for the door.

He turned around in the doorway, looking back at Grif with a smirk (it wasn't a smile, shut up), "I was thinking about digging around for one of Donut's brownie recipes, want to help?"

Grif looked up from where he was slowly catching his breath, "Only if I get to lick the spoon."

"You'll get salmonella that way."

"Don't care."

"Fine, don't come crying to me when you're stuck in the toilet all night."

"Deal."

As Grif made his way passed Simmons and to the kitchen, Simmons couldn't help but think that maybe he should take a break more often.

Comments are always welcome, thanks for reading!