Here is a story that nobody wants of needs because everybody is making new stories and I felt left out. Flame if you want. I can't tell you what to do.

Copyright thing that nobody actually reads.

Simmons could not believe that they were really back in Valhalla. It had seemed like such a long time ago that they had left because they were being chased by Agent Washington and the Meta.

Now here they were again. Donut was alive, Wash was on their side, and they were on yet another suicidal mission. This time to find and kill the Director.

Simmons was standing in the shade of the base, pondering on what things were the same and what things seemed like they would never be the same again. That was when Grif showed up.

"Hey cock-bite." Simmons said, not really paying attention to the orange private. Grif stood in front of the maroon soldier and crossed his arms. "We need to talk!" he snapped. Simmons eyed the soldier. 'What's eating him?' Simmons wondered.

"Well talk then." Simmons said crossing his arms as well. Grif seemed annoyed that they were both crossing their arms and immediately balled his hands into fists and put them at his sides.

"What the hell is up with you knowing that song?" he asked his tone harsh and slightly hurt.

Simmons stared at him in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, racking his brain for answers of what the hell the orange Spartan could possibly be talking about.

Grif seemed annoyed that Simmons had no clue what he was talking about, "I just wish that Grif was dead.."

"Put a bullet through his head." Simmons sang out again, not giving it much thought.

Grif shot him a murderous look. "You just did it again!" he hissed stamping his foot on the ground.

Simmons just stared at him again, still not quite understanding what the problem was.

"Simmons! Why do you know that song? Every time that somebody even sings a few words , you sing the rest! What the hell man?" Grif sputtered in anger.

Simmons finally understood, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a baby. It's not like I wrote it. It's just a stupid song that's been in my dreams pretty much since we got here."

Grif shot him an angry look. "Yeah waking up with a shot-gun is no big deal," he said sarcastically.

"Not if it isn't loaded."

Grif shook his head in disgust. "You're sick man. I know that you hate me, but do you really have to be so blasé about a song with me dying? That's cold."

Simmons looked at the orange Spartan in surprise. "I don't hate you," he said simply. Then he just sat in silence while Grif stared.

"What do you mean you don't hate me? You call me a lazy fat ass all the time!"

"That's because you are a lazy fat ass Grif." Simmons said amused.

"You keep offering to kill me!" Grif said, still trying to prove his point. "You'd really like it if I was dead!"

Simmons seemed surprised and hurt by that statement. "I don't want you dead Grif," he said quietly looking down at his feet as he did.

Grif gave him an incredulous look. "Oh yeah, that's why you keep saying that you'll poison my food, cut my throat in my sleep, and sacrifice me just for the heck of it." Grif gave the maroon soldier a look that made him flinch. "Yeah you totally don't want me dead."

Simmons walked up to the orange private and gave him a hard look. "If I really wanted you dead, I would have let you fall off that cliff."

Grif rolled his eyes. "I did fall off that cliff Simmons. Remember? Sarge didn't want to check."

Simmons looked down at the ground obviously hurt. "I tried to stop you from falling," he mumbled.

Grif rolled his eyes again at the maroon solider and gave him a pat on the back. "Yeah Simmons. You did try. You failed but at least you give a shit."

Simmons smiled. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have anybody to talk to. You're the only one in this canyon that I can have an actual conversation with."

Grif returned the smile before quickly switching to an uncaring expression. "Speaking of that. Why the hell am I talking to you? I'm wasting perfect napping opportunity before that crazy freelancer chick comes and demands that we all follow some other crazy clue thing. I'll be in the base taking a nap if you need me, and by that I mean don't bother me."

Simmons smiled again at the orange private, an evil look in his eyes. "You know Grif, I have the perfect lullaby for you. You know, to help you sleep."

Grif eyed him suspiciously. "What?" he asked cautiously.

"I just wish that Grif was dead," Simmons started to sing before the orange soldier ran into the base, shouting "screw you!"

I have no clue where this came from. I felt all inspired and friendshipey, and this just sorta came out.