A/N: I do not own Red vs. Blue

Offer Me Your Hand
Sharing Is Caring

"This is fucking unfair," Grif complained while staring at the ceiling. He tried to find a comfortable position but ended up slamming his head against the floor – just another reminder that he was in fact lying there instead of in his own bed. That did not improve his mood and he lifted his head slightly to rub the sore spot with his hand.

He eyed Tucker's pillow with a jealous scowl. The Blue was sitting right next to it, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he stared down at his friend. "So unfair. You could be staying in Donut's room or Caboose's but here you are, invading my personal space."

"Look, no way am I staying a night with Caboose. I'm not babysitting for free. And if I asked Donut for the favor he'd be turning it into Donut's Feeling Hour where we're supposed to talk about emotions and shit."

"Okay, so there's a big difference about whining to Donut about your shitty love life and whining to me about your shitty love life?"

"Yep," Grif replied and smacked his lips. "First of all, you don't say shit like how I'm not letting you touch me or opening up enough for you go get deep inside." When Tucker grimaced Grif knew he'd made his point. But he still held up two fingers, continuing, "Second, I could be saying Simmons had tried to set me on fucking fire and your advice would still be the same: get laid."

Tucker huffed, placing one leg over another. "Are you criticizing my advice now? 'cause you should try it out before rating it."

"That's a bit hard when you're not allowed in your bed in the first place. Or Simmons' bed, for that matter. Fucking asshole." Grif grumbled something under his breath, crossing his arms on top of his stomach.

"Dude, just what did you do to piss him off?" Tucker asked. In order to get a better view of his friend on the floor, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees while his palms held up his head.

Grif scowled, eyes narrowed. "Nothing. Well, nothing unusual. Hey, I don't even think he needs a reason to be pissed. It's probably that hour he spent helping Sarge in the armory yesterday. He's extremely vulnerable to Sarge's propaganda: oh look, the world is ending for some reason- let's blame Grif and beat him up for it, 'cause why the fuck not?!"

"Wow, you're really bitter about this, aren't you?"

Tucker's comment went unnoticed by Grif who had now thrown up his arms in order to emphasize his furious rant. "And it's more contagious than I ever realized! This morning Carolina tripped over some stupid equipment and guess who she started yelling at – me! I bet Sarge coughed on her in the hallway or something."

"It's not really that suspicious since you were the one in charge of cleaning up the equipment shack," Tucker pointed out and immediately received a sour glance.

Grif now sat up to face him. "Are you on my side or what?"

The Blue held up his hands to prove he was yielding. "I'm not on anybody's side – I'm here to lend you my floor so I can press you for a favor later when I need it."

Snorting, Grif raised an eyebrow. "What – in case Wash finds your hidden porn collection and locks you out?"

"Hey, we don't have stupid domestic arguments like that." Tucker paused for just a moment before adding, without missing a beat, "Besides, Wash is not gonna find my collection 'cause he won't be searching for it 'cause he don't want to touch them."

"What a perfect relationship."

"Well, I'm not the one kicked out of his room."

Grif ran a hand through his hair, mainly because he was still so annoyed that he did not know where to put his hands. "Exactly. My room. This should be illegal."

"Technically it's Simmons' room too."

"Then he can put me in the fucking naughty corner or some shit! Not throw me out on the streets!"

That was maybe some exaggeration since they had moved into Armonia a month ago. Grif had not exactly been wandering the streets like a homeless person after the argument. If desperate he could have asked pretty much anyone for a place to stay for the night (if Matthews had even heard the slightest rumor about his Captain's situation he would have offered to give up his bed for him, probably leaving a little chocolate on the pillow like Grif had heard was the custom on fancy hotels – which did sound nice if not for Matthews' presence) plus the fact that Grif had a mental map of all possible nap places in the city.

But in the end he had chosen to go to Tucker since the Blue would not only be willing to rent his floor for a night but also agreeing to listen to Grif's complaints. And the orange soldier had a major need for getting the load off his mind right now.

Tucker's expression contorted slightly as he tried to force away a smile. "You guys have a naughty corner? Kinky."

"Oh, fuck you, too. Actually, fuck everyone. I hate this world." He lay back down again with a huff. Tucker did not have any snacks in his room so that sucked. He did not have an extra bed either which also sucked. Not even an extra pillow. And this was, of course, all Simmons' fault.

"Hey, after the time Simmons tried out that whole 'spray-you-in-the-face-with-water-technique' it wouldn't surprise me if he told you to stare at the wall for ten minutes."

Grif's scowl grew even bigger at the memory. "He said it didn't even count as a bath! Bullshit – how can put water in your face and not call it a bath?"

Tucker let out an amused snort. He leaned back against the wall again, making himself comfortable.

Grif had to turn his head to glare at him now. "What?" he grumbled after noticing the expression.

"I'm just impressed that we all might die tomorrow and you guys are still keeping up the domestic bitching."

Right. A bit overdramatic, maybe, but Tucker did have a point. "Isn't being thrown into dangerous stupid shit the new normal by now? Life hates us and we bitch about it. And we're not going to die tomorrow because for once Sarge is not in charge and we can all follow Carolina's strategies which means I won't be used as a living shield."

While Grif did firmly believe that the universe hated his guts – the one man draft had proven that much – he also trusted Carolina's skills. Plus the Freelancer and Kimball had spent so many meetings discussing this mission that every small detail had to be planned by now.

Tucker smirked. "Well, if she's still pissed about the equipment shack you might want to watch your back."

Grif had just opened his to retort when the door opened. Due to Grif's position on the floor, Wash did not notice him at first. "Tucker, what do you thi- Oh," he said after almost stepping on the Red in his room. "Hey, Grif."

He raised an arm as a greeting, not even bothering to sit up. "'sup?"

Wash sent his roommate a questioning look as he stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. Tucker shrugged. "He and Simmons had an argument."

"Oh," Wash said again, tilting his head look at Grif. "What did you do?"

"Who said I did shit? Maybe, for once, I'm not to blame! Maybe Simmons fucked up. It could happen."

Wash looked at Tucker for confirmation. "Simmons kicked him out," he answered after a moment of consideration. When Grif shot him a sour look he exclaimed, "It was pretty obvious, dude."

The two beds were placed on the opposite side of the room, so when Wash sat down Grif found himself surrounded by Blues staring him down. Sarge would have freaked. "So what did you do?" Wash asked while pushing away the blanket so he did not wrinkle it by sitting on it.

"Nothing unusual. It was Simmons who decided to make it a big deal by locking me out. Even I won't be that evil, Wash – no one has the right to separate a man from his bed. No one," Grif said darkly and began to stare daggers at the ceiling again.

"Yeah, so I said he could stay here for the night," Tucker added, lifting his glance to meet Wash' eyes.

"Our room," the Freelancer corrected automatically.

Tucker raised a challenging eyebrow. "Duh. Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No," Wash quickly said, hands raised to deflect any arguments. "It's just that a shared room means shared decisions."

"So? It's not like you're disagreeing."

"Hah," Grif cut them off with a snort from the floor. "You're the ones with domestic bitching."

Tucker threw the pillow in his face which Grif proceeded to catch with a surprising elegance. He immediately placed it under his head and his expression revealed he was feeling very satisfied with himself.

Wash' expression, on the other hand, had turned extremely neutral after Grif's comment. However, he could not keep his ears from turning slightly red. "I'm just saying," he began after some seconds, "I don't know where he can sleep in here."

"The floor's fine," Grif replied and when both Blues sent him unsure glances. "Look, I spent half my time in Basic napping in a locker. At least the floor isn't vertical."

"That's… almost impressive," Wash admitted, and from the other bed Tucker nodded in agreement.

Grif smirked slightly as he continued, "Or you two could share a bed and I could get the other one." In all his misery it was a faint comfort to tease the Blues. Of course no one here had an official relationship (who had those these days?) but Tucker had used way too many opportunities to mock Grif and Simmons. This was well-earned revenge.

He had expected Tucker to chuckle or go along with it but instead he was frowning, eyes jumping from Wash to Grif. The Freelancer was completely silent, face still strangely expressionless, but his eyes had this firm look in them that made Grif realize it was probably better to save the mockery for a time Wash wasn't there. Grif would rather not be kicked out from two rooms in one day.

Tucker seemed to have read the same warning in Wash' face and he told Grif, "Dude, a tip here: you want to stay in this room don't try to make Wash uncomfortable."

This was a pretty unfair rule since Tucker had taken pride in making Simmons' blush as often as possible. Not that it required much to make the cyborg's face turn red, but still. Grif rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm just trying to make it up to you by being your wingman."

Tucker's face was now one serious frown and after kicking Grif's shoulder he warned, "Okay, seriously, knock it off."

"Fine," Grif whined, taking a hint even though the Blues were being unfairly sore about this subject. "But, since the other option isn't there, the floor is fine. Seriously." He quickly put his hands under the pillow as well, secretly grabbing the fabric if Tucker suddenly decided to try and take it back.

But Tucker said nothing and it was Wash who spoke next, "So are you going to apologize to Simmons?"

"What? For Simmons being a bitch? No."

"You might want to have worked it out before tomorrow," Wash said, trying to slip in a reminder as casually as possible. He was probably secretly happy about the fact that he would now be able to wake up Grif himself and drag him onto the mission.

Maybe Grif had forgotten about the job tomorrow just for a second. But only because there had been other things in his mind – mainly Simmons and his bed, and sadly it had not been the right way of imagining Simmons and his bed together.

But tomorrow early, just to make it shittier, they would all be gathering for one big attack. The space pirates Locus and Felix had hired from somewhere had grown a rather big pain in the ass lately. As it turned out many of the old Fed bases still had functional weapons and vehicles in them, and the pirates had been raiding them with such an impressive speed that even the Freelancers had been unable to keep up.

It just seemed like the pirates appeared from out of nowhere, swarmed the base like ants on a cake, and then disappeared again. It had been driving Carolina, Church and Wash crazy – not only because the citizens of Chorus needed those supplies, but also from the simple fact that it sucked to know that Felix and Locus were one step ahead of them.

Well, they had been. So far. Until Church had figured out the pattern between the attacks and had figured out which base the pirates were going to hit next.

Since the place was pretty far from Armonia, the Reds and Blues would not be able to get to the place first. So instead they would let pirates arrive and then surround the place, keeping the pirates and the supplies from leaving.

Grif was not sure of all the details yet, even though Simmons had been blabbering about them the last week, but he had noticed how the cyborg had been praising the plan, meaning they probably had a high chance of surviving. Which meant it was a plan Grif liked.

Even though a long jeep-ride with Simmons did not really sound that pleasant right now. But that was future Grif's problem – right now Grif just kept his focus on where to sleep.

He raised his head to glare at Wash. "Look, Simmons and I don't work it out. We bitch about it. That lasts until we find something else to bitch about which causes us to forget the earlier argument. Give it a day or two, until someone brings up the non-existing usefulness of the geometric we were forced to learn in High School, and I'll have my bed back. It's a simple procedure that works."

Wash just stared at him for some seconds, finger slightly raised as if about to lecture him. "That does not sound like a healthy way of sorting out an argument."

"Yeah, and I always go for the healthy life-style," Grif snorted, rolling his eyes. He rolled over to lie on his side, trying to find a comfortable position. With his arm under the pillow it almost felt like he had not been banished to the floor. "Seriously, don't stress about it. This is like the normal procedure."

"He has a point," Tucker admitted. "I mean, whenever things get too rough between them, bow-chicka-bow-wow, one of them turns blue and nags us until they forget whatever stupid shit caused the argument in the first place."

"Hey, I don't turn blue," Grif complained loudly. "Simmons turns blue when he's stressed. I manage to keep my dignity."

"Dude, you got locked out by the lankiest guy in the city. I don't think sleeping on our floor does much for your dignity."

"Whatever," Grif grumbled, turning over to bury his head in the pillow. He was too tired to deal with the snarky Blue right now. The day had been long enough already, and all of Simmons' shouting had given him a headache.

At least with the mission tomorrow he had a valid reason to go to bed early without anyone bitching at him for being lazy.

Tucker, picking up on Grif's discomfort, grinned. "Looks like I hit a sore spot. Hey, Wash, how do you think he'd look in blue?"

"We're not painting his armor, Tucker."

"It might have worked! If Simmons saw he's hanging out with us now he could turn jealous enough to let him back in. What do you think, Grif?" When no answer came from the soldier on the floor, Tucker reached out a leg to nudge his shoulder. "Grif?"

Grif did not snore – being the Master of Naps meant he was able to sleep almost soundlessly, making it a pain to find him once he was sleeping in one of his hiding places. But the way his eyes were closed and the steady breathing made Tucker realize the conversation was now over. "Holy shit, he's sleeping."

"Almost impressive," Wash had to praise him again. It was not anybody who could fall asleep on the floor that quickly without even having a blanket. The Freelancer tore his eyes away from the sleeping Red. "We should follow his example. We have to get up early tomorrow, after all."

Tucker groaned but he did stand up to strip to his nightwear. "How early?"

"4.30."

"Shit, Grif's going to be a pain in the ass about it." He paused for just a moment before glaring at Wash, "Hey, it's gonna be your job to wake him up."

"I- Fine. I expect you to cause less trouble than him." The two Blues slowly began their daily routine, carefully stepping around Grif as they prepared to go to bed. Before Wash crept under the blanket, he glanced one more time at Red before asking Tucker, "Do you even know what their argument is about?"

"Nope," Tucker replied. "Bets are on some mispronunciation or that Grif spilled soda over Simmons' papers again." He sat up in his bed, stretching his arms. "But honestly," he said as he reached out for the nearby light switch.

The room was engulfed by darkness, hiding the sleeping figure on the floor.

"…It probably doesn't even matter."

A/N: Look at me starting another multi-chapter story. Anyways, this became a fully fleshed out plot back in December and I've wanted to write it ever since and here we are, finally.

So this story is going to contain a bit more action than what I usually write (Okay, "Seeing Red" does have action now when I think about it) and there won't be the usual bigger time-jump that you'd find in "Shake" or "As Seasons Pass". So, yeah, this basically means I can finally make cliffhangers. Which I look forward to.

This first chapter is a bit slower and shorter than what I would've liked but it creates the setting and there'll hopefully be action in the next chapter when the mission begins. And Locus and Felix should make an appearance soon!

So I'm going with the kinda AU-ish thing where we find ourselves between season 12 and 13 because I want all our heroes together but I also need the villains alive. I'm looking forward to the scenes with Felix and Locus – I've been using those characters far too little.

Off to a good start, let's see where it all ends!

Thanks for reading!