Grif, Simmons, and Tucker head back to Blood Gulch in order to hopefully find two missing family members during a rare quiet moment for the group.
Beginning Notes: I apologize for how bad this story is, as it is actually the first RvB fic I ever attempted writing. Originally, it was going to be the beginning story to a full-fledged extremely Canon Divergent fic series set sometime after Season 10 (Grimmons, some hinting of Kai and Tucker as friends with benefits though that would eventually make way for a later Tuckington relationship as the plot progressed), but I never felt completely comfortable with the way the entire story was gelling together and I ended up deciding to try writing Above Ground instead which I've overall felt a lot more positive about in general. :D {Some scenes I did really like and everything, so I might just end up reworking them into self-contained stories too at some point…maybe. Haven't decided yet. XD}
But I've had this short "first" story for it sitting on my comp since before Season 11 started, and after having to transfer files to a new one recently figured I might as well post it since it technically counts as a stand-alone.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Family Road Trips are the Worst
The heat certainly hadn't changed. That much was for sure.
The second they entered the box canyon, the heat had enveloped them in its familiar suffocating fashion. Managing to stick to their persons, and somehow finding its way into even their supposedly sealed and climate-regulated armor.
Richard "Dick" Simmons sighed at the sensation. He could honestly say that he had not missed this at all.
His companions on this impromptu journey vocally shared his sentiment.
"Shit, I'd forgotten how fucking hot it gets here." The teal soldier nearby complained. The alien sword that he always wore at his side suddenly came to life in his hand, and he was trying to use it to frantically fan himself.
Simmons had to bite his tongue to keep himself from informing Lavernius Tucker that trying to fan himself with a sword made entirely out of energy through sealed armor wasn't going to accomplish anything.
The impulse was strong, but the cyborg had already been called a know-it-all more than he cared to keep track of on this trip.
Their orange companion moved listlessly to stand by Simmons' side, breathing hard from the movement but not saying a word. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet the closer they'd gotten to their destination. Not that Simmons could blame him.
He knew that Dexter Grif had hated this place in a rather particularly intense fashion after having gotten stuck there thanks to the one-man draft, "I'd almost forgotten how much I hated it here. Until now."
"Tell me about it." Simmons said in quick agreement.
Grif kicked absentmindedly at a loose rock on the cliff side, the three simulation troopers watching it fall down in silence.
Tucker spoke next, his voice sounding oddly thoughtful, "I don't know. This place sort of had some good points too."
The two members of Red Team stared at him incredulously, and the dark-skinned man blanched behind his helmet.
"I mean, well, fuck it! There were some good times here too! Like, memories and all that shit?"
"You mean beyond the pointless fighting, Sarge's insane strategies, rampant homicidal AIs, crazy-ass Freelancers, aliens knocking people up, zombie captains, and emergency plans that always resulted in me getting shot?" Grif asked.
Simmons winced at the last part, secretly glad that Sarge had put most of those plans on hold now that he'd somewhat warmed up to "the lazy, good-fer-nothing dirtbag" on his squad.
Tucker shifted on his feet. The swaying grass in the valley down below suddenly very interesting to him. Squinting, the Blue Team member could almost make out the distinct shape of his rock. His heart swelled at the memory of some good, albeit very embarrassing-if-ever-found-out-about times.
"Err, I don't know. Maybe? Look, I know there are at least some things that happened here that I'm somewhat grateful for."
…One of them, Tucker hoped to find here again. His mind wandered slightly to some other personal memories too, and he couldn't help but smile wistfully.
Hell, maybe the dark-skinned man was hoping to find two of those things still here.
Both Red Team members seemed to take a few moments to soak in his words. Subconsciously, Simmons turned his head slightly to look sideways at Grif when Tucker mentioned there being things he was "grateful" for that happened here.
But, he quickly jerked his head away in the hopes of his action not being discovered.
He didn't notice that Grif did the exact same thing only seconds later, albeit the orange-armored soldier's gaze lingered. The Hawaiian was rather glad that his helmet kept his line of sight hidden from his maroon-armored friend.
"Yeah, I guess." He finally muttered, tearing his gaze away from Simmons after a few minutes, "It's still a shitty place though."
"Oh, no arguments there." Tucker agreed quickly. He'd noticed the not-quite-as-subtle-as-either-of-them-had-hoped glances that the two teammates had given one another, but chose to keep his mouth shut on the subject to avoid getting shot at.
Why the two soldiers still hadn't just admitted that they were in love with one another yet was beyond him. They pretty much were practically all but in a relationship already. He'd called it all those years ago, and the "old married couple" sentiment had only seemed to grow around them since then. All either of them needed to do now was just confess their feelings for the other and make the damn thing official.
Granted, Tucker figured relationships usually seemed more complicated from the inside than they did looking at them from the outside.
Which is why he always tried to keep things low-key and find as many lovely ladies as possible to have fun with. Can't deny the universe all of the Tucker that it so desperately needed, right?
"Let's get down there then." Grif, surprisingly, was the first person to move down the cliff and into the canyon proper.
Made sense, Tucker supposed. While Grif hated being back here, there was a reason he'd agreed to come all the same.
Speaking of which…
"Hey, fat-ass, when we find your sister, do you mind if I spend a little alone time with her? Catch up on old times as teammates, if you know what I mean? Bow-chicka-bow-wo- hey!"
His catchphrase was cut off by the bullet from Grif's rifle that missed his head by a mere centimeter. Tucker shut up instantly, the older brother's warning well-received as he moved down the cliff-side while the orange soldier shot him an angry glare for his joke. Even with his helmet on, it was a pretty fear-inducing one.
Behind him, he could hear Simmons mumble a muffled something that sounded a lot like "idiot" under his breath as he made his way down to join the other two.
As Simmons' feet touched the ground of Blood Gulch proper once more, he thought back to the events that had led the three of them here again with a weary, inwardly-directed sigh from within the confines of his helmet.
Tucker had approached the two of them during their forced "helping" to hunt down the former Director of Project Freelancer, the man who had gotten both the Red and Blue Teams involved in the whole "simulation trooper" mess to begin with.
Church (well, technically "Epsilon-Church" if you were going by semantics—man, was that some confusing shit or what?) had gone out for a ride with their mutual "friendenemapanion," as Sarge was so often fond of calling Carolina.
Washington was out on guard duty following the two's departure to who-knows-where. "Personal business" was all Washington would say on the matter, though the former Freelancer seemed troubled enough by his own thoughts as it was so no one felt like prying any further.
Everyone else had made camp inside the temple ruins, as ordered.
Caboose was bugging Sarge on the other side of the hallway about sleepover traditions. No one had the heart or patience to really try to correct the simple-minded soldier on what was truly going on anymore.
Despite Sarge grumbling from time to time, it seemed as if he didn't necessarily mind the young Blue's company overly much as he talked about "proper sleepover protocol" in the military and how that contrasted with watching movies and eating snacks well after bedtime.
"I like eating popcorn at sleepovers!" They heard Caboose interject randomly at that point, his tone happy.
Maybe Sarge was just humoring the poor kid since the situation was so tense even if Caboose himself wasn't fully aware of what they were involved in now. Or maybe the older soldier missed the happy, naïve bubbling of their own team's younger member Donut more than he'd let on.
He would joke at times, sure, but it was obvious that Donut's absence had an effect on their commander all the same. Simmons swore he wasn't even as hard on Grif on occasions anymore subconsciously because of it.
Whatever the reason, it seemed to keep both of them distracted for the moment and let the others dwell on their own personal thoughts.
"Hey, Grif?" Tucker began, sounding almost nervous as he hastily unclasped his helmet and pulled it off. He glanced everywhere in the corridor but at the soldier he'd just addressed, "You're pretty much the official driver for your team now, right?"
Grif shrugged, "I guess so." He glanced over at Simmons who was sitting next to him, their backs against the cooler wall of the temple corridor, "I mean, I'm better at it than Simmons here." The smirk was evident in his voice.
Simmons bristled at that, both teams still mocking him for his earlier driving escapades, "I just think it's best to obey traffic laws even in tense situations. The rules are there for a reason!"
His friend shook his head, "Whatever you say, Simmons. It's still lame to stop at a train signal in the middle of a freaking high-speed chase."
Tucker, who had happened to be riding shotgun with Simmons at the time, couldn't help but agree. Safety laws could be fucked for all he cared when he had to duck and pray that he wasn't going to get hit by a peppering of UNSC bullets.
The maroon soldier mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like "brainless adrenaline monkeys", but Grif seemed content to let the teasing end.
He took off his helmet to match Tucker's action, and reached to his side to see if he still had his cigarettes. Grif scowled when they came up missing and tried counting to ten, his glare landing on Simmons who suddenly seemed to be finding the ground absolutely fascinating.
So, the cyborg had taken them again. Son of a…!
Admittedly, Grif had been trying to quit smoking at least for a little while now since he finally got fed up with Simmons constantly trying to guilt-trip his ass about "ruining his lungs like how he'd ruined his own before the operation." So he figured he would cut down on the number of packs he smoked a day.
The Hawaiian been doing a pretty good job of it so far. Only about three cigarettes a day now, which for him was a marked improvement over his past chain-smoking tendencies. He had even mastered smoking with his helmet on before all of this, after all! Which had been pretty fucking impressive and deserved a medal if ever something did.
But, recent events had been pretty nerve-wracking and damn it! He needed one of his vices now. Since he hadn't brought any booze with him, a smoke would have been perfect.
But, evidently, Simmons thought his "slowly weaning off" attempts were a trick or something. Every time Grif secured a new pack of cigarettes, he found them gone a few hours later. It just made him want to smoke ten cigarettes more just to piss off the annoying kiss-ass. After all, it wasn't any of his business if he smoked the whole pack or not. He'd bought them, damn it!
Not noticing the sudden tension growing between the two teammates, Tucker breathed and barreled on with the question he'd been trying to get out ever since approaching them, "Anyways, I was wondering if, when all of this is over, you could maybe drive me back to Blood Gulch for a little bit?"
The question got Grif to stop momentarily envisioning suffocating Simmons with a cloud of tobacco smoke if he still had is actual lungs, and he looked at the Blue Team soldier in surprise.
"You want to go back to Blood Gulch?" He asked incredulously.
The dark-skinned man nodded, looking embarrassed for some reason.
Seemingly realizing that he was temporarily saved from a shouting fit of Grif's, Simmons also looked up at Tucker curiously, "Why?"
He seemed to be debating whether or not he really wanted to tell them, his brown eyes darting over towards Caboose who was animatedly gesturing something while conversing with Sarge. He sighed and sat down on the ground, facing them.
"It's about my kid." He finally said, glancing over at the two of them to make sure they were listening, "You guys remember Junior, right?"
Simmons nodded, "Your alien baby?"
A nod.
Grif continued, "The one you gave birth to because you were seduced in the swamp?"
Simmons was glad his helmet was still on at this point in the conversation, because his fact just paled at the mental imagery.
Tucker seemed nonplussed because he had heard even worse comments about how he'd happened to give birth to Junior, with most of them coming from his former team leader, "Hey, man, you have to be aware of what's going on for it to be a seduction."
Gah, Simmons really wished the conversation would change course at this point. His brain had way too hyperactive of an imagination at times.
"Okay, okay. My bad there." Grif's tone was one of mild disinterest. This usually seemed to be the way his interactions with Tucker went: they'd poke fun at one another a little bit, but it would normally die down in a couple of seconds when the real conversation started, "Yeah, we remember your kid. What does he have to do with Blood Gulch?"
"Remember how, before we met up again here, I said that Junior and I had become something like ambassadors between humans and aliens since the war had ended?"
Grif nodded, "Because of something about how the two of you were 'between worlds' or something?" He couldn't help but jokingly smirk at that.
Simmons, who hadn't been there for that particular conversation, remained quiet.
"Shut up." Tucker responded to the smirk first to keep Grif from making the smartass comment he knew was probably already on the other soldier's lips, "And, yes."
The teal-armored soldier closed his eyes in thought, recounting something, "Junior can take care of himself surprisingly well when he needs to."
"Well, duh." Simmons thought before inwardly sighing that his brain had actually thought the word "duh" since that was obviously a sign he was hanging around Grif too much, "He is genetically one half of a deadly alien warrior race."
"…But, sometimes, I worried about putting him in situations if I really thought there might be danger. I guess it was my fatherly instincts or something."
"Motherly." Simmons couldn't help but correct.
Tucker turned to glare at him, while Grif tried to unsuccessfully stifle a snort of laughter.
The redhead shifted uncomfortably, trying to defend himself, "Well, you carried him to term and gave birth to him! Technically, that makes you his mother from a scientific stance."
"Dude, you got beat up a lot in high school, didn't you?"
Simmons' face flushed and he looked at the ground again, "I don't want to talk about it." He mumbled.
"Well, that explains his 'I go to the gym everyday to stay in shape and lithe' physique now." Tucker couldn't help but think.
"Anyways, I guess it was my parental instincts." Tucker cast a look at the Red Team's resident suck-up to see if he'd challenge him on the new word choice. When nothing was said, he continued, "I told Junior that if we were ever separated for really long, he should head home and I'd meet him there."
"And that was…?" Grif prompted.
"Before the siege here by that fucker C.T. and you guys showed up."
Grif whistled appreciatively: that had been a while ago.
Tucker shifted uncomfortably on the ground, a worried look crossing over his features, "I'd meant to go find him the second that whole business with the fucking Meta had been taken care of, but then…"
"We got forced into helping crazy-ass Freelancer lady with her equally crazy vendetta." Grif finished for him.
Tucker nodded, looking guilty now. In a way, the two Red soldiers couldn't help but feel a bit of pity and sympathy for his predicament. None of them had wanted to get involved in this new mission that now made them wanted criminals, but to also have someone who you'd promised to find again waiting for you in the meanwhile? That had to suck.
Grif's thoughts went to Kaikaina and the old feeling of uncomfortable guilt rose within him at her memory. He knew she was alive still, she had to be. But, he hadn't made any promises to her about coming back.
He couldn't have in good conscience really, after the draft and all. After all, he had no idea when or if he'd be able to see her again. Plus, Grif had honestly been pissed when he had found out that she'd run away to try to find him.
Still, not knowing for sure what had happened to her just drove him mad sometimes.
He'd long since given up on being a brother that could be there for her all the time. The draft had seen to that well before either sibling had been really ready for it. But, that didn't mean the desire wasn't still there all the same. For someone as generally lazy and unmotivated as he was, it tended to leave an unpleasant feeling in his chest whenever he thought about it.
Simmons glanced over at Grif, noticing the slight frown on his tan features. He'd seen the look before and could guess what it signified: the first time he'd seen it had been the night (technically speaking, the time their clocks designated was night at least) after Sarge had told Grif that Lopez had killed Sister. Even though Grif adamantly refused to believe it, that particular expression had darkened his face with worry on more than one occasion when he didn't think anyone else was looking.
Instinctively, Simmons found that his cybernetic arm, the one closest to Grif, had moved of its own accord and that his fingers were just a fraction away from making contact with the other's hand.
He stopped himself from going through with the intended comforting motion with a quick jolt that brought the offending appendage close to his side again, heart beating way too loud in his ears. Or, at least, the closest thing he had to a mechanical equivalent of a heart that was now located in the same spot in his chest where an organic heart should be.
A blush was forming on his cheeks at the realization of what he'd almost done, and he was yet again thankful that he hadn't taken off his helmet yet. The other two soldiers, lost in their own thoughts, thankfully didn't seem to notice Simmons' odd behavior just then.
Shaking his head slightly, he turned to Tucker and managed to squeak out in a voice that only sounded slightly shaky, "S—so, what makes you think he's at Blood Gulch then? Is that where he thinks home is?"
Tucker shrugged, looking sheepish once more, "Honestly, dude? I have no fucking clue. I never bothered asking Junior where he thought home was."
"But you asked him to go there anyways on his own?" Grif let out a low whistle, "That's some bullshit parenting right there."
"Says the guy whose sister has had seven abortions."
The two were still joking, but it seemed like the topic was a powder keg about to go off if one wrong comment was made.
As if sensing this, Tucker elaborated on his earlier statement, "Truthfully, I thought it wasn't an important issue because I didn't think I'd be separated from him for this long, so I never brought it up again. But Junior's a good kid, so I know he listened to me." He glanced at Grif, hoping to make any amends about his earlier Sister comment, "Probably like how Kai followed you because she thought you were a good brother."
"'Kai'?" Simmons raised an eyebrow at this. As far as he knew, most people simply referred to Sister as 'Sister' on the Blue Team. When had Tucker started being on such familiar terms with her?
Grif, overprotective big brother as he could be at times, thankfully didn't seem to notice Tucker's slip-up. For which Simmons was grateful as that meant he didn't have to pry Grif away from a "choking the teal soldier" moment.
"Well, we can't all be stellar judges of character." The orange-armored soldier joked in response to Tucker's last comment.
"Nope. But, we love 'em anyways." Tucker agreed.
Bullet dodged and a potentially volatile situation defused.
"So what makes you believe Junior might think of Blood Gulch as home then?" Simmons asked.
Tucker shrugged, looking thoughtful, "He was born there, for starters. Plus, it was actually the place we stayed at the longest." He looked at their surprised glances and smiled, "Yeah, I know. It's not good for a kid to be so continuously on the move like that, but there were a lot of places where our new delegate roles were needed after the war. I promised him we'd take a little break after that last one."
He fidgeted slightly, "I think Blood Gulch was also where he seemed the happiest too, since he liked most of the people there. Makes sense that he might try to go back to it if he thought of it as 'home'."
"Well, it's a pretty sound guess at any rate." Simmons stated, then he thought back to the earlier portions of their conversation, "But, why ask Grif for a ride?"
"I'm not really the best with cars." Tucker admitted, remembering his earlier driving escapades here in this very desert, "Besides, I figured he might want to go."
"Why would you say that?" Grif looked at his kneecaps disinterestedly.
"Well, your sister's still there, right?" The orange soldier's head shot up as he continued, "I know she wasn't technically in the army to begin with because of her age, so I figured she wouldn't have gotten transferred with the others."
Simmons frowned, "Yeah, but Lopez…" he stopped himself when he saw Grif glaring daggers at him, daring him to finish the sentence.
The cyborg knew that Grif still believed his sister to be alive. He didn't want to diminish that hope even though he'd seen Lopez in action before, and he knew the robot was pretty thorough. So, the redhead held his tongue despite not being sure he liked where the conversation was going.
"So, I figured we could make it an incredibly fucked up and crazy family outing!" Tucker said hopefully. Then, looking around them and remembering the situation they were all currently stuck in, "After this whole other crazy business is taken care of. If we're not all dead or in jail by then."
Grif thought about it for a moment, a mischievous grin on his face, "Sounds like a plan. I could use a vacation from all of this."
"Great! I guess we'll just leave a note or something for the others then when it all goes down."
Grif snorted, "If that. Writing letters is boring. Also, I'm pretty sure Caboose can't read."
"Draw him a picture in crayon and he'll get the gist of it." Tucker joked, getting up, "Thanks, man."
Simmons maintained his frown, finally removing his helmet but staying silent as the Blue Team member left. He did not like the idea of an unauthorized road trip at all, but he supposed he could be thankful for the moment that it had been put on the backburner currently given everything else going on.
"Simmons!"
A whine came from right next to him, reverberating in his ear as Grif had leaned over as if to whisper a secret to him.
"What?!" He couldn't help but yell in shock at the sudden proximity and interruption of his thoughts, hoping the red on his face came off more as annoyance than the blush it really was.
Grif was glaring at him pointedly and he gulped, suddenly remembering that his friend had found out about how Simmons had stolen his cigarettes once more during his fifth nap that day.
"I need a smoke." He said bluntly, "Now."
Simmons frowned, becoming annoyed again, "No. I told you before, you're not ruining my lungs."
Nope, bad enough the dumbass was killing his liver with his booze consumption and still devouring entire wedding cakes in under two hours. The maroon-armored soldier had to put a foot down somewhere.
Didn't Grif realize that you only get so many chances in their profession? Simmons' old organs were what was keeping him alive still in the first place, because Simmons had been willing to give them up for that very purpose.
He wasn't going to let Grif's self-destructive vices get the better of him again. Not when he'd come so insanely close to losing him all over again in so many other ways recently too.
The redhead tried really, really hard not to dwell too much on 'why' he felt so protective towards his teammate. Best not to, really. In order to keep things stable.
"News flash, Simmons…you're not my mother."
He smirked at that, knowing of a way now that he could deflect Grif's attention to something else entirely. Their arguments could be productive from a strategic stance, if nothing else.
"Never said I was, cockbite. I'm not nearly talented enough to be both the bearded lady and the fat lady in a circus."
"You fucking kiss-ass—!"
Grif's face was turning red now. Before something else happened, Simmons took the opportunity to throw a wrapped snack cake into his lap.
The Hawaiian blinked in mid-tirade, looking down, "What's this?"
"Peace offering." Simmons proffered, "Don't ask where I got it."
He didn't bother, opening the package with his teeth and practically inhaling the sugary treat. Simmons watched intently, finding Grif's eating habits both disgusting and oddly fascinating.
"Ishshtillhatesyouse." His teammate mumbled, the food still in his mouth.
Simmons shook his head, "Swallow before talking, Grif."
A glare was his response, which he returned with a knowing smirk. But, Grif did as he was told.
"Yes, Mother." He finally grumbled, pouting, "But, I still want a smoke. I've been cutting back, you know!"
"Not as much as I want you to."
Simmons sighed and closed his eyes, keeping that particular thought inside his head for now, "I know. So how about this, then? Let me hold onto the pack, and I'll let you have a smoke every once in awhile."
The tan-skinned man's dark eyes narrowed.
"C'mon, Grif. At least this way, I'll feel better knowing I'm helping you keep track."
"What are we, married?" Grif looked annoyed, but not as livid as he had been before. He stared at the ground in annoyance, "It's not something I need you worrying about."
"Tough shit then. You know I'm going to anyways because they're—"
"'My lungs'!" Grif cut him off in an annoying sing-song voice, earning him a glare from Simmons which he then in turn replied to with an innocent-looking grin.
At least he wasn't angry anymore.
"Please, Grif?" Simmons asked again, hopefully.
The Hawaiian thought about it for a moment and let out a defeated sigh, "Fine. If only because you've become a really whiny bitch over it lately," he looked at the cyborg pointedly, "And because I want Mister High-and-Mighty-Kiss-Ass here to know that I'm really serious about trying to cut back."
Simmons smiled, relieved, "Thanks, Grif. I really appreciate it."
A shrug, "Still not sure why you're making such a big deal about it though." He mumbled under his breath, and Simmons was surprised to see a slight tinge of pink momentarily cross his friend's cheeks.
He was tempted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but stopped himself. Given Tucker and Grif's earlier conversation about potential future road trips, he figured there was a lot of stuff the two would probably have to discuss in the near future that was more important in the grand scheme of things.
"Caboose! Where in tarnation are you going, son?"
Sarge's voice boomed out, interrupting the two from their private thoughts as a blue blur shot past them.
"To go ask Agent Washington what he wants on his popcorn for the sleepover!" The rookie shouted happily over his shoulder.
"Caboose, I keep telling ya—it's not that kind of sleepover!" The older man let out a sigh and paused, thinking something over, "And why in Sam Hill did you have popping corn in your ammo casing in the first place?"
"Here it is." Tucker stopped at the entrance to the base that had served as the 'home' of Blue Team while they'd been stationed at Blood Gulch.
Boy, did it feel weird to be here again.
He glanced around, noticing how familiar everything looked still beyond maybe the grass being a little longer now. Not as many idiots running around everywhere like chickens with their heads cut off to keep it trampled, he thought ruefully.
You really couldn't tell that the base had only had one potential person living inside it at all for countless months now.
Guess that was the one benefit to a building made of highly durable metal and concrete: it had been made to last, even if it had just been created for crazy-ass Freelancer experiments.
He fidgeted slightly, not quite able to step onto the entrance's ramp just yet.
"Uh, dude?" Grif looked at him in confusion, "Shouldn't we be going in now?"
Damn it, when had he become the 'leader' of this little expedition in the first place? Granted, he had been the one to bring up the idea to begin with, but still.
"What about you?" Tucker shot back at the orange-armored soldier, "Your sister's here too!"
Grif shifted uncomfortably, and looked away.
Tucker remembered an earlier conversation he'd had with Simmons then, about the Red Team's robot Lopez saying something about how he had killed Sister earlier while everyone had been adjusting to life in Valhalla.
The cyborg had said that Grif had adamantly refused to believe that his little sister had been killed, but he knew there was probably that lingering sense of doubt in the Red Team member's mind even if he never spoke about it.
Hell, Tucker wanted to not believe it either. For reasons that were probably not at all related to her brother's thoughts on the subject and would most likely result in him staring down the business end of Grif's sniper rifle again if he ever voiced them out loud.
What if Lopez had been right and Sister was gone? Stepping into the Blue Team base and finding a corpse would be the ultimate proof against all the denial and hope in the world.
It was part of the reason Tucker himself was standing on the threshold too. He didn't really want to know that either.
Plus, what if Junior wasn't there either? He didn't want to dwell on what that would mean, so he was hesitating while at the same time wanting to see too.
Man, looking at it from that perspective kind of made him feel like an ass. Damn it, he hated having to apologize!
He breathed in and out, "Listen, Grif, I'm sorry."
A shrug, "It's okay." And from the understanding look in his eyes, he knew the Hawaiian meant it, "I shouldn't have been too pushy."
Oh, good. They'd had a friendship moment and it was over pretty quick too. Not as awkward as he thought it would be. Tucker was relieved.
Now to just ignore it and pretend it never happened for the rest of their lives, sort of like a majority of his 'heart-to-heart' conversations with Church even if he did kind of miss the jerk whenever he wasn't around.
"I'll go in first, how about that?"
Simmons seemed to have picked up on the reasoning as to why the two were hesitating and stepped up onto the ramp quickly. For not the first time since they'd began this little road trip, Tucker was grateful that he'd volunteered to come along. He could be a know-it-all nerd a lot of the time, but Simmons kept the group grounded.
Considering how he had no real reason to get involved in the first place having no real connection to either Sister or Junior, it was nice to have Simmons around to balance out him and Grif.
"Thanks, Simmons." He heard Grif mumble next to him, averting his gaze as a slight tinge of pink flashed across his tanned face for a moment.
Simmons turned back around to look at his teammate again, a slight smile on his pale face before he disappeared through the entryway.
Tucker couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the exchange.
Okay, okay. Maybe the reasoning behind why Simmons had offered to come on this road trip wasn't such a big mystery after all.
Seconds later, they heard a shocked "What the hell?" come from within the base.
The two soldiers exchanged glances before any sense of hesitation completely left their systems and they were bounding up the ramp only to find Simmons standing just within the doorway, mouth agape as he took in the scene before him.
"Whoa!" Tucker let out a whistle, "What happened here?"
The hallway leading to the 'rec room', or what passed as one in a dump like this, was littered with trash. Empty bottles of beer and other liquor, more than he'd ever seen at the base, and plastic cups were everywhere. Along with food wrappers and what seemed to be the remains of glow sticks.
There were smears of fluorescent paint on the walls and who-knows-what-else, as he really didn't want to examine those stains any closer, and it looked like the trail led all the way into the 'rec room'. The mess spilled around the old couch.
It was he only piece of furniture in the place beyond the T.V. that never seemed to work, as it was constantly on the 'snowy channel' more often than not, so they'd started using it as a coaster.
The couch was knocked onto its back, and the T.V. was completely covered in beer bottles. Jesus, was that a tube of lube sitting right out in the open?
Even he wasn't that obvious with that sort of thing. Well, okay, look in his room and you'd see some things. But, that's why he kept it closed, damn it!
And locked too, after Tucker had to have a really awkward conversation with Caboose about why one of his DVDs had two naked ladies hugging each other on the cover.
Boy, was that even more uncomfortable with Washington glaring at him in the background. Evidently the blonde Freelancer hadn't liked that the rookie had asked him about the video first.
Simmons' face had turned a bright red tomato shade, and he was pretty much looking in every direction but the one with the T.V. and away from Grif too. Tucker really wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going through his head, though he felt kind of bad for the Red Team's cyborg given the nervous way he was reacting to everything at the moment.
"Uh!" Simmons finally managed to squeak something out of his vocal chords, though it was rather high-pitched and close to breaking, "Wh—what do you think hap-happened here?"
Tucker raised an eyebrow, "Seriously. That's the first question you ask?"
The maroon-armored soldier looked sheepish, and Tucker did feel a little bad for him at that point. Knowing Simmons better now, he'd probably been one of those types who'd been so obsessed with getting good grades and then getting into the army since, from what he could tell Simmons had come from a long line of military men, that he probably hadn't had much of a chance to really live life. The poor guy.
Tucker shrugged, sweeping over the inside of the base with a wave of his hand as he did so, "What didn't happen here is probably the better question. We're talking some crazy, messed up porno party or something. An orgy even, maybe."
"Here?" The cyborg's eyes looked about ready to bulge out of their sockets, "B—but no one lives out here. Or visits!"
"'If you build it, they will come.'" Tucker thought he'd heard that line from an old movie once, and thought it was potentially fitting for the situation they were in now in more ways than one, he'd wager. He frowned at that train of thought, looking strangely pensive, "Damn, I wish I'd thought of that."
"Are you serious?" Simmons looked at him incredulously, his earlier discomfort forgotten in the wake of the other soldier's 'logic' which made no sense to him, but nothing about this situation did.
There was a sound from behind the two men that sounded like rocks colliding. They both turned towards it, and subsequently gulped at the sight of a glowering Dexter Grif.
The noise had been him grinding his teeth together as he stood there, the anger practically radiating off of him in waves.
"That damn brat." He mumbled under his breath, his voice getting louder with every word he said, "Every single goddamned time!"
"G-Grif?" Simmons attempted, but his teammate was too busy mumbling to himself to notice.
"What were the only things I told her whenever I had to leave? Don't embarrass the family and don't throw anymore goddamned raves!"
"Isn't your mom both the bearded lady and the fat lady? Pretty hard to do anything embarrassing after that, dude." Tucker tried joking to lighten the suddenly very dark atmosphere in the room.
Truthfully, he thought the whole 'rave' thing was more fun than embarrassing, but he really didn't want to get shot right now so he kept his mouth shut.
"What does she do the second I'm gone?" Grif was yelling now, "She throws a goddamned rave again!"
Well, that was Kaikaina Grif, after all: crazy wild child and partier extraordinaire. She was pretty awesome to hang out with, all in all. At least from Tucker's point of view.
With more speed than someone whose diet seemed to consist of as many desert goods as he could shove into his gullet and more bacon grease than a body should be capable of processing, Grif sped from the rec room and headed towards where the sleeping quarters were.
Both Simmons and Tucker winced as they heard cursing, "Not here!" and the occasional door slamming before a still very angry-looking Grif came barreling back into the room and headed back out of the base again.
"Grif! Where are you going?" Simmons hurried to follow his friend, Tucker close behind.
Given Grif's response, it was a pretty good guess that the base was empty.
"To find my dumb-as-fuck sister!" The Hawaiian didn't even turn around, his voice carrying over his shoulder as he stormed across the field towards the caves, "If she's not dead yet, I swear I'm going to kill her!"
The two gave Grif a wide berth during their trek.
Simmons swore he could see smoke curling over the top of the orange-armored soldier's head, though it was probably a trick of the imagination given how pissed off his body language was. The only time he'd ever seen smoke coming off of a person before was in the early days after the initial cyborg operation.
Sometimes, he'd still panic about that when only partially awake. His mind often played tricks on him when he was looking at his arm or another part of his altered body sleepily, though thankfully it was no longer an issue due to recent improvements made to Sarge's original design.
For once, he was somewhat grateful that his father's long absences and lack of anything resembling a familial interest meant that he didn't have to deal with 'sibling' problems. Yes, he had often wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister during his rather lonely childhood. But, when he saw things like this, he wasn't sure if he'd really missed out on something or not anymore.
Granted, he knew Grif actually cared for his little sister a lot. He wouldn't have come back here if he didn't. He wouldn't have gotten so mad over her antics in the first place if he didn't love her.
The only time the lazy-ass ever put his all into something seemed to be for her benefit and now, on occasion, for his teammates when push came to shove, a subtle development Simmons had noticed over the years but never spoke up about. So, he figured that there was a pretty large bond between the two Grif siblings that he'd never really understand as an only child.
…But he also wondered if it would be worth all of the stress. Hell, sometimes he wanted to let loose and strangle someone because of all of the crazy antics of the idiots around him. Present company included. If he'd grown up with that kind of stuff happening as a little kid, he was pretty certain he would have had constant ulcers.
And boy, did Grif seem pissed now.
He hadn't seen him this angry since they'd seen the surveillance footage of Kaikaina's physical with Doc from their earlier days stationed here. Personally, he was just glad that unlike during that time the other man's anger wasn't partially directed towards him for ogling his naked younger sister.
"Dumb question, probably, but he's not really going to kill Kai, right?" Tucker asked in a whisper, as though he wasn't sure he wanted Grif to hear him, "I mean, he's her brother. It's not like he doesn't know how much crazy shit she gets into all the time."
"Believe me, he knows." Simmons' mind went back to the story Grif had told him and Sarge before about Sister's improbable underwater pregnancy, "Don't worry. He's not going to actually kill her or anything. They'll just yell and vent at the other for a little while." He'd seen that well enough in their previous interactions.
Tucker frowned and looked somewhat embarrassed, Simmons swearing that he could see a tinge of color on his cheeks for a split second, "Worried? Who said anything about being worried?"
"Right." Simmons couldn't help but roll his eyes at the denial.
Tucker glared at the redhead in return since, oh! He could say a few choice things about the maroon-armored soldier and being in denial if he really wanted to, though that might not be the best thing to do with Grif being as angry as he was currently.
A thought crossed Simmons' mind again as he reflected on something Tucker had said earlier, "You called her Kai." He mumbled quietly.
"Huh?" Tucker had heard it, but he was hoping that maybe if he played dumb Simmons, who sometimes had a bit of awkwardness about him when it came to talking about others' personal lives, might get too uncomfortable to bring up the subject again.
"Sister." Unfortunately, apparently the damn science nerd was in one of his analytical-evaluation moods, "You called her Kai."
"I did?" He tried to play it off, "Well, that is her real name."
"No. It's a nickname based around her real name." Simmons stared at him pointedly, "I've only ever heard Grif call her that."
Uh-oh. Busted.
Tucker glanced towards Grif ahead of them, biting his lip nervously and praying the orange-armored slob didn't have super-hearing or anything.
"Your point?" He asked as calmly as he could, already knowing where the conversation was going.
"Have you slept with her?"
Simmons blushed as he asked it, and the directness of his question momentarily stunned the other soldier.
He blinked, eyes wide, before emphatically shaking his head, "No!"
Simmons looked unconvinced, and it wasn't as if Tucker could blame him. He was irresistible to the ladies, after all, and it's not like Sister was all that picky with her partners, anyways.
What annoyed him the most about the topic, though, was that he could feel his cheeks heating up, "L-look, it's not like I never wanted to, or couldn't! Or anything like that! You've seen her! The chick is fine, and wild, and loose. And I love them like that!"
Wow, so probably not helping his "I've never tapped that" line by saying that stuff.
"Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like? You stared at her an awful lot when were stationed here."
Simmons' face turned bright tomato red again, and he looked down quickly. Before he could stop himself, he was replaying that surveillance video footage in his head.
Dark hair. Tanned skin naked and oil-slicked. Body contorting into positions he hadn't even thought a human was physically capable of…
Yes, the redhead had stared at her an awful lot and imagined things. That footage replaying in his head again and again.
Simmons would never tell anyone, though, that the beautiful, flawless Hawaiian female in his mind's eye would transform in mere seconds into Grif. Extreme flaws, scars, and all, but just as wondrous to him. All the more so for those things even.
The cyborg did not even want to think of how he wondered about that, how the footage would turn into a shaded canyon from his memory. How he wondered if they'd gone further in their explorations that day if Grif would have proven to be just as flexible as his sister was, if he'd open his mouth just so and tilt his head slightly if he was touched the same way.
They had both been in denial that that day had even happened, had been so suddenly frantic throughout the whole thing that Simmons hadn't had a chance to savor anything at all. All he had were the flashes of sensation, the hinting that led to fantasized imaginings, the desire to touch and feel again that never really left him despite his subsequent denial of it.
No, best not to think on that too much again.
Thankfully, Tucker wasn't waiting for a verbal response from Simmons and didn't seem to notice the sudden odd tension in the other man's frame.
"But, I mean, as much as I wanted to, I fought the urge."
"Why?" Simmons' voice was strained still, but he was getting better at squashing those familiar feelings down.
Both he and Grif had agreed it was better to maintain the status quo afterwards, to not go down that road. Act like it had never happened, and it would almost be like it never really had. Sometimes, he almost believed it, although the scary thing was he didn't really want to.
But, at the same time, Simmons was afraid of losing the one damn thing that made life bearable for him. Even if that thing happened to be a lazy-ass idiot.
Trying to keep his attention on the Tucker issue was helping him to refocus again, slowly but surely.
"Because she was underage at the time." The teal soldier sighed, "I might say a lot of things, and I might want to do even more, but I've got some principles."
"Oh, I see." Simmons blinked, honestly surprised and somewhat impressed by Tucker's response.
"So we agreed to just be make-out buddies until she turned legal."
And the other shoe fell. Simmons couldn't help but roll his eyes and smirk slightly at that logic, "Real classy of you to do."
"I know, right? It was really hard too!" Tucker said, "Because she's so hot and loose! Bow-chicka-bow-wow!"
"Your self-restraint is admirable." Simmons couldn't help but chuckle slightly.
"Whatever, dude." Tucker grinned, "I deserve a medal for that shit, and you know it too. All bets are off now though. Pretty sure she turned eighteen."
Simmons glanced up at Grif, "Hmm, might want to keep that to yourself." He muttered.
"Good point." Tucker thought.
He definitely did not want to get a bullet lodged in his ass before then. It would probably really kill the mood.
He had to find Junior first, anyways. The role of a parent was a harsh one, even if chicks really did like kids. Or dogs, really. With Junior, it was kind of interchangeable sometimes in regards to how women viewed him.
The three simulation troopers had, at some point, approached the cave. Grif stopped his angry pacing then, took a deep breath, and yelled.
"Kai! If you're in there, you better get out in three seconds or I swear I'm dragging you out and you know how much I hate bats!" He paused, "And dragging things. Work in general, really."
Silence. Nothing moved and quiet descended on the canyon following Grif's outburst.
He stood there, breathing in wheezing gasps as if the effort had overexerted him. Which, knowing his smoking and eating habits, it probably did.
After a few tense moments of nothing happening, Simmons stepped forward to place a consoling hand on his teammate's shoulder, "Grif, maybe Lopez really—"
A pained look crossed the other man's features, and Simmons could tell that he was begging him silently not to finish the sentence. He frowned, not sure how to approach the subject further but feeling like he had to do something still.
A shadow fell across them from the cave's entrance, and whatever Simmons was going to say or do completely fled his mind at the sight of the yellow-armored figure standing before them.
Sister raised her hand in slight greeting, "Took you long enough, asshole." She said to her brother.
"Who told you to run away and fake enlist in the army anyway, you dumb brat?"
Then the two were hugging tightly as if they hadn't seen each other for years. Who knew? So many things had happened, maybe it did feel that way to them. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared for the Grifs.
Simmons stepped back. He'd probably never understand the way the two siblings showcased how they cared, but he was happy for their reunion all the same.
"Blarg!"
A small shape that had popped up by his feet startled him, and Simmons jumped slightly at the miniature teal-with-blue-trim alien running past him.
"Junior!" Tucker's cry was ecstatic as the young creature jumped incredibly high for his tiny stature and right into his parent's (mother's) waiting arms.
Simmons smiled slightly and shook his head. Okay, that reunion was a little weirder to wrap his head around, but he did admit that it was touching all the same.
Fuck it! He swore he wasn't going to cry.
Since no one was paying any attention to him now, he hastily put his helmet back on to cover up the sudden redness of his eyes.
Damn canyon dust.
"So, I don't really think your Spanish friend knows how to party that well, because he totally fired a rocket into the base and you're not supposed to do that unless you're outside. Everyone knows that." Kai was saying, stretched out on the grass next to her brother.
"Uh-huh." Grif probably could have tried explaining to her that Lopez had been trying to kill her and not party, but he'd long since given up on trying to convince his sister that they were in a war.
Hell, Caboose and Donut nearly got killed all the time and they had actually officially signed up for the army. Why, for the life of him, he could never figure out, yet they still went about their happy ways without a care in the world.
Besides, since Sarge was trying to reactivate Lopez again now that there was a steady "truce" between the teams on account of all of it being one big fucked up lie they'd all been pawns of, it might be better in the long run for Kai to not know that little detail.
Though, now that Grif thought about it, things seemed oddly friendly between Washington and Donut despite the shooting, so maybe he was worried for nothing?
"So, after I came to a couple months later, no one was around and I got pretty lonely." She plucked a blade of grass absent-mindedly, "It reminded me of how I felt when you got drafted, Dex. Everything was way too quiet at home. No one to yell at me for doing dumb shit."
"Kai." He started, then stopped himself and frowned, the guilt gnawing at him.
What could he say to that, really? It always sucked that the orange-armored soldier seemed to be pulled away for really stupid, pointless, and trivial shit. Getting to be the only person who was drafted to fight in a fake war. How fucked up was that? He really couldn't change any of that shit either.
"But, then the little guy," she motioned to Junior, who was running in happy circles around Tucker's legs a little farther away from where they were sitting, "Tucker's dog-kid or whatever? He showed up and it was a party all over again! Had to drink all the booze though, just so that he couldn't get to it."
"Wow. Babysitter of the year."
"Well, he's alive, right?"
"You're eighteen! What the hell were you doing drinking in the first place?"
"What are you now, a cop?" She glared at him in mock suspicion, "You're not supposed to tell cops anything!"
"Geez, the one piece of advice I give you and you twist it around into something ugly."
"There were a few other guys who came by too. I think they really were cops. Asking questions all about you guys."
"Really?"
So the UNSC had tried tracking them down here after their stint with Carolina? He filed that under information he should probably confide to Simmons with later. Seemed like the type of thing the nerd would want to know about and analyze, if Grif bothered remembering it that is.
"Since I was lonely and missed you guys, and the little dog-kid missed Tucker, I asked them who I'd have to blow in order to get a transfer. Because I figured I'd already blown pretty much everybody else and-"
"Yeah, yeah. Wait, what?!"
Leave it to his little sister to make him forget possibly important details.
Yeah, Grif wouldn't really admit it to anyone, but he really had missed these family talks of theirs. Even if they made him debate whether he wanted to hug the girl or throttle her all at the same time.
"Do you think they'll mind?"
Tucker looked up at Simmons thoughtfully, hand clasped around one of Junior's claw-like appendages, "Who? Sarge and Washington?"
A nod, "Well, we are bringing two more people back with us."
A shrug was his reply as Tucker moved to join Sister and Grif at the ridge leading to the canyon exit. He seemed pretty uninterested in the whole thing.
"Well, Washington doesn't seem to care much with the whole war thing to begin with since we're all on a 'truce' now. He tolerates me and Caboose, so he must be pretty patient. Sarge seems pretty old-school. I don't think he'd mind having a girl and a kid around."
In a way, Simmons supposed that was true.
"Even if they do mind, I say fuck 'em! It's not like I didn't explain what we were going to do in the note."
The cyborg wasn't quite sure what leaving a note had to do with showing up with two extra people when you didn't properly ask permission to do so in the first place. But, at the moment, the joy in all the reunions and the knowledge that they were going home again made Simmons for once not give one iota about his logical and reasoning side.
"I guess to Tucker it makes perfect fucking sense." He thought, and left it at that.
The second they were by the ridge and beginning their ascent, Grif turned to Simmons and latched onto his arm.
"Simmons!" He whined, "I really need a cigarette now."
The Dutch-Irishman scowled in annoyance, eyebrows furrowed, "Damn it, Grif! Can't you at least wait until we get back to the Warthog?"
Okay, okay. He'd actually forgotten to bring the cigarettes with him. More like forgotten them on purpose, but Simmons was hoping Grif wouldn't figure that part out. Ever. He could just blame it on the impromptu road trip later.
"But, today's been really stressful and I could use the release. Plus, a celebratory smoke for finding Kai and Junior."
"Not until we get back." The other man said firmly.
"Why not now?"
"Shit, think of something fast."
"Snacking is better for stress relief and celebrations, right?"
Grif looked at him suspiciously, "Your point being?"
"I have more of those snack cakes in the Warthog." He lifted up two fingers on his gloved hand, "You can have two."
"Really?" Grif's face brightened, and the other man nodded, glad the blow-out had been averted, "With the beer I smuggled in, it's going to be a party!"
From behind them, Sister let out a loud "Whoop!" to which Grif turned back and glared at her, "You're only eighteen. No more drinking!"
"You suck, asshole!"
"I swear, Kai, I will leave your ass here!"
"You brought beer with you?" Simmons' eyes narrowed, "On a road trip when you're the driver?"
"Relax, Simmons. I didn't drink any. I'm not that irresponsible." Grif said, "I figured I'd need it after this whole thing was over with. You can take the wheel for a little while. I figure I'll be sober again in the week it'll take us to get back with the way you drive."
"That's beside the point!" The redhead sputtered, trying to ignore the jab at his driving habits, "It's against regulations!"
"Simmons, Simmons." The orange-armored soldier chided playfully, "When are you going to get that I think the regulations can suck it?"
"You could at least still follow some protocol!"
"You could at least not 'forget' to bring the cigarettes all the time since you said you'd hold onto them for me." Grif looked at him pointedly, "So, let's just call it even this time."
"That's beside the point!" Simmons was getting quite annoyed now, his face turning red, "You're still ruining your health, jackass!"
"Lalala. I can't hear you!" Grif put his hands over his ears and gave Simmons a taunting grin.
This, of course, caused the two of them to begin an epic shouting match as the group slowly moved their way out of the familiar box-shaped canyon.
Behind them, Tucker whistled softly, watching the two bicker.
Yep, he'd definitely gotten it right with the old married couple bit.
His left hand was still clenched tightly around his son's. The Blue Team member wasn't quite sure which one of them didn't want to let go more now that they'd found each other again.
His other hand was suddenly occupied as well, and he turned to see Kai's pretty face in his vision. The knowing smirk in her eyes matched his own.
"Oh, yeah, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do too." Tucker thought, suddenly very eager for the return road trip to begin.
"They're totally crazy for one another. My brother and that gray nerd-guy." It was more of a statement on Kai's part, rather than a question.
He nodded, "Have been for a while, I think."
Junior, smart kid that he was, picked up on the trail of conversation pretty quickly, "Bow-chicka-honk-honk!"
Tucker grinned, shaking his head, "Not yet, I don't think, Junior. Give it some time though and it'll happen. Trust me."
"When it does, we should totally film it! I bet it will be hot!"
"Yeah, yeah. Wait, what?!"
Closing Notes: Not my favorite story I've written, but I am oddly fond of it since it helped encourage me to get back into fic writing in general. And it seemed fitting to start this collection off with a throwback fic (immediately followed by a more recent one)! :D
Anything else following this story will be a lot more recent/current writings though, and hopefully a bit better as a result! :)