Sorry about the lack of updates; I'm trying to get this on track and my life together, just a little bit. I want someone else to take over New Life's writing, with me consulting, but I doubt that will happen. This is a giftfic for tuckroxysprite tumblr

I'm between tumblr urls right now, but you can find me at agentchurch for now.

Grif didn't trust Matthews. Not one bit. The ass kissing was bad enough, but this? This was too far.

It all started two weeks ago, at dinner. Being a jungle planet, it rained often on Chorus, and hard. It wasn't good for Simmons' cybernetics, even with Dr. Grey's upgrades. Grif, being incessantly pestered by Matthews, sent him to retrieve the other captain, who was no doubt in the rain again.

When Simmons walked through that door, he immediately regretted it.

"Are you sure you don't want to get a fresh pair of clothes, sir? I can bring you some if you like!"

Grif heaved a sigh at the sound of Matthews' voice, his gluttonous appetite ruined by it.

"It's okay; it's my fault for wearing a tank top outside."

Sopping wet and half-naked, Richard Simmons, in all his nerdy glory, was practically being felt up by Matthews. Granted, he was using a towel, but same difference. Grif was glaring daggers at the pair, clenching the handle of his spork.

He was so caught up in his jealousy, however, that he'd miss the majority of their conversation until Simmons said, "Why don't we hang out sometime?"

Matthews head nodded like dog's tail, and it only went downhill from there.

Day after day, Grif watched the two brown nosers get closer and closer, unable to do anything. The image of Matthews touching Simmons grew and distorted in his head, popping up especially when he tried to eat his feelings.

Tucker laughed at him when he talked about how he felt– trying to cover it up as one of his soldiers– and, while certainly a good listener, Bitters didn't give two shits. Caboose was out of the question, of course.

The last straw, however, was leg day.

"Did you hear?" one of Caboose's teammates whispered to a group of soldiers as they stretched. "Matthews asked Captain Simmons out!"

"Seriously? Fuck, I owe Jay money then," another sighed. "What'd he say?"

"I think he said yes, but I'm not– hey, where's Captain Grif going?"

—

Grif found Matthews in the orange team bunks, humming to himself as he read some stupid book.

Stomping up to him, the Hawaiian tore the book out of his hands and threw it at the wall. The soldiers strewn about the barracks quickly absconded, not wanting to witness their CO's rage firsthand.

"Captain Grif! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there, sir! Do you want me to salute you? Shine your armor? Get you food?" Matthews quickly got to his feet, not at all fazed by the look on Grif's face.

"Why are you hanging out with Simmons?"

The boy blinked. Was that what this was about? Was the captain jealous, worried that he'd try to switch teams?

"Well, sir, we have a lot in common, actually," he explained. "He got stuck in the rain when his cybernetics locked up from the rainwater– Chorus rain isn't really like regular rain– and we started talking on the way to the dining hall, because that's why you sent me, to fetch him! He and I got along really well, so he invited me to play Monopoly– and, boy, did he kick my butt–!"

"Oh my god! Just cut to the chase! How do you feel about him?!"

Matthews was thrown off guard. "Feel about him? Uh… I like him, I guess. I think we're friends, sir."

Grif's voice went up an octave. "You can like my Dick, but that doesn't make you my Dick's friend!"

"Grif? What the fuck are you talking about?"

The air in the room went completely still. Simmons was standing at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest and brows raised. The other captain looked absolutely morbid, as though he'd been caught with his pants down, or a schoolgirl trying to talk to her crush.

That's when it finally hit him.

"I'm gonna let you two lovebirds chat it out." Matthews pat Grif's shoulder and left, winking at Simmons as he passed by him.

"Grif, what's going on? Tucker sent me after you, said you just up and left for no reason. And why were you talking about dicks?"

"Do you like him?" came the whispered response.

That certainly caught him by surprise. "I mean, yeah, sure. It's fun playing board games with him, since he doesn't cheat, like some asshole I know."

Grif clenched his hands into fists. "Do you like like him?"

It took a second for it to click. "Grif… Are you jealous of me and Matthews?"

The other man sat down on the bed behind him, creaking under his weight, and held his head in his hands.

"Dude, come on– just because we argue a lot doesn't mean we aren't friends." Simmons went to his side and sat next to him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "Besides, it's okay if we befriend other–"

He didn't get to finish that sentence. Grif grabbed Simmons by the collar of his shirt and slammed their mouths together in a kiss. It was far from wonderful– their noses banged together, Simmons tasted like fish and Grif like stale Oreos, and their teeth kept hitting each other– but neither would've taken it back for the world.

They pulled away for air a minute later. Grif had, honest to God, started crying in the middle of it, too. Simmons was too stunned to do anything but stare into his eyes.

"I want you to be mine, Dick. Not Matthews'."

"Kiss me better this time, and I'll think about it," Simmons whispered.

"Gladly."

Hours later, after they'd finally finished their steamy make out session on some poor soldier's bed had finished, Simmons turned to Grif and asked, "You really thought I was dating Matthews, of all people?"

The pillow to the face he received told him all he needed to know.