Disclaimer; I don't own Red vs. Blue.
Summary; A quiet moment between Grif and Tucker while they avoid any real work.
Warnings; Ha ha... this sucks.
Firsts
"So, what was your first girlfriend like?"
Grif glances at Tucker through his visor, rolling his eyes. Yeah, like he really wants to discuss that with him, of all people. In the middle of a godforsaken desert. Surrounded by aliens that may kill them without a second thought at any fucking time, listening to Church read instruction manuals of various electronics to said aliens while Sarge bitches at him to find more water.
"She was hot," he starts, then frowns. "Not like movie star hot, but pretty nice for a seventh grader." He pauses. "Yours?"
Tucker snorts, shifting to his left foot and repositioning his sword so it isn't digging into his side. "Ninth grade English tutor," he reminisces fondly. "Man, I sure sharpened my pencil a lot those days." He glances at Grif. "Bow-chicka-bow-wow."
The Red soldier scoffs. "Classy," he comments absently, and then something odd hits him. "Wait. Ninth grade?"
"Yeah," Tucker growls defensively. "So what?"
"Nothin'," Grif replies, turning his attention to the rifle he's holding. "I just thought that, uh. Well. Never mind, it doesn't matter."
"Oh yeah?" Tucker challenges. "Well if you're such an expert, then how far did you get with your first girlfriend? I mean, besides the shower."
"It was a river," Grif corrects, smirking even though he knows the Blue can't see him. "No shower could hold me."
"Probably because of all that extra body fat."
Grif blinks, frowning as he slings his rifle over his back and pulls out his pistol instead. "Too far, dude," he scolds, even though he can tell already his companion is regretting it.
"Yeah," Tucker agrees. "Sorry, man, I just kinda lost it."
"Hey, I shouldn't of, um, well. You know," Grif apologized awkwardly. It was a weird moment all around, really. The whole scenario--going on a quest to help an old enemy, finding said enemy, becoming friends with enemy--was like something out of a teenage romance novel.
"Hey, why are you being so weird today, anyway?" Tucker asks, and Grif shrugs.
"Writer's wishes, I guess," he offers. The teal soldier frowns, even though he knows Grif can't see him.
"What' that mean, anyway?" he asks. It's been bugging him for a while now, not knowing what the all-powerful force in their universe is, but Grif just shrugs again.
"Basically whoever runs this show can have their way with us," he explains, and then holds up his hand as Tucker opens his mouth to respond. "Too obvious, dude." Grif pauses a moment more. "She had a dick," he finally admits, and Tucker's eyes widen behind his visor.
"Dude!" he exclaims. "How the Hell'd you find that out? Did you go looking for it or something?!"
Grif chokes on his mike. "No!" he almost shouts, and then consciously reigns in the volume so the others don't hear him. "We were foolin' around one night, ya know, and, uh, it just kinda… poked me."
Tucker whistles. "Dude, that sucks," he mutters. Grif shudders, glancing around for the others.
"You have no idea," the Red agrees. There's a moment of silence in which the two soldiers stand and watch the endless sand as the wind tosses it around, the annoying-as-hell alien chattering the only sound other than Church's reading.
"So," Tucker says finally, "did you still…?"
"Not even funny, dude."