Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Chapter Two:
"No fucking way!" Lavernius Tucker said incredulously in response to the news he had just received, "Simmons is going to be Hargrove's secretary?"
David Washington raised a blond eyebrow at the remark, "I really don't get what the big deal is." He told the other man, "I wasn't even aware that you knew Simmons until now."
The two were seated on the hood of Tucker's car, just outside of the apartment building that Washington had called home ever since moving to Rat's Nest. A bag of fast food sat between them, smells of greasy fries wafting up into the air.
Washington would probably be reluctant to admit it out loud, but he absolutely loved moments like this. He didn't even care that he had eaten more unhealthy fast food in the last few months than he had in his entire life beforehand. Ever since he had taken on this job with Charon Industries, he felt the need to let loose every once in a while.
…Besides, whenever he suggested anything remotely healthy for dinner, Tucker would make a disgusted face that, while admittedly sort of cute, had Wash afraid that the other man would rethink their whole situation if he pressed too much. The blond already knew that this wasn't exactly a "normal" professional driver-and-passenger driving dynamic.
But, for whatever reason, this had been how the two of them spent their evenings ever since Washington had started hiring Tucker to drive him back to his apartment after work: the two would get something to eat and then talk off the clock for what felt like hours.
Wash was aware that he was socially awkward and rather withdrawn. The former Freelancer was also aware that this was probably a strange way to make friends outside of his usual work routine, especially when he was quickly developing something of a crush on said friend.
Tucker, unaware of the thousands of thoughts running around the older man's mind, shrugged absentmindedly at Wash's comment on Hargrove's most recent hire, "I mean, I don't know him well, but we were sort-of friends in high school." The dark-skinned man said in way of explanation, "Back then, he was best friends with Donut. Simmons didn't even go to our school."
"Donut." Washington frowned in thought at the name before something clicked in his brain, "He's the one who runs that coffee shop, right?"
The unfortunately named coffee shop that Wash couldn't help but turn slightly red-faced at when he so much as thought about it. He figured that Tucker must have used up all of his jokes about The Big Gulp years ago to be able to speak about it with a straight face now.
Tucker glanced over at the blond, mildly impressed, "Look at you, remembering shit."
"Well, I have met Donut a few times." Washington couldn't help but get a bit flustered at the comment, "You don't forget a personality like that. All of you guys are a memorable bunch."
Tucker laughed, the sound causing a pleasant feeling to crawl over Washington, "Damn straight we are!" But then his face turned slightly serious again, "Since he's a friend of Donut's, I'm just surprised Simmons would work for a jackass like Hargrove." His eyes went over to Wash sheepishly at that, "No offense."
"A little taken." Washington stated, though there was no anger in his voice.
Truthfully, he questioned why he was still working for Hargrove himself. It all boiled down to there being far too little jobs for someone with his particular skillset. Wash supposed Carolina had been rather fortunate in that regard.
…Which was an odd thing to say and kind of made him feel a bit like a jackass, especially given what had happened in order for her to have her current job.
"Perhaps Simmons doesn't have much of a choice." Washington mused from his own personal experience, shrugging, "I hear the Hargrove and Simmons' families are close business associates."
Tucker nodded, whistling, "That sucks, man." He stated, a knowing look in his brown eyes, "For both of you."
"Tucker…" Wash began, not sure what to say as he let the name linger.
Tucker, not a fan of things getting too sentimental regardless, cut him off, "I wonder how Grif's going to take it when he realizes who they're picking up tonight." He mused, kicking his legs into the air and looking up at the darkening sky, "He had a huge crush on the nerd back in the day."
"Really?" Washington couldn't help but be a bit curious at that bit of information considering that the few times he had met Dexter Grif he had assumed the lazy driver was the type to not be bothered with most things in general.
The teal-wearing man nodded, "I could totally tell, man." Tucker smirked, "Whatever. It will serve him right for fucking teasing me all the time."
"Teasing you?" Washington's curiosity was piqued even more now, "What does he tease you about?"
If it was about a potential crush, then…
The former Freelancer noticed Tucker glance towards his direction. In the lamplight flickering down upon them, Washington would almost swear the dark-skinned man was blushing.
The driver quickly looked away, "N—nothing! It's nothing. Just fucking forget it, Wash."
The tone of Tucker's voice and how he was acting definitely didn't have Washington feeling like it was nothing, but he decided that it was best to not push the subject any farther for the moment.
Besides, it looked as if Tucker had decided not to give him the chance as he changed topics entirely himself, "Sheila thinks it might be nice for you to try to talk to Carolina some more." He noted, "You know, for old time's sake."
Of course, Tucker had to pick a conversation topic that was an uncomfortable one for Washington. Worst topic ever. Of all time.
Washington sighed, "That's probably not a good idea, Tucker." He informed him, hoping that would put an end to this particular conversation thread.
If the way that the redhead had simply looked through him as if he didn't exist the last time that they had met at Project Freelancer was any indication, then Carolina wanted nothing to do with him.
It hurt. A lot. But Washington supposed he could understand why she was acting that way. However, Tucker apparently did not.
"I just don't get it." He stated glumly, staring at Wash with a scrutinizing gaze, "I mean, you are friends, right? That's what Tex and Church say, at least."
Washington nodded in response to the question. He and Carolina used to be friends. Back when everyone was together and all of them were still alive. Now…
"It's complicated, Tucker." The blond finally stated, realizing he had gotten lost in his remembrances.
Tucker made a face, "Shit with you is always complicated." He informed him distastefully.
Washington simply nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.
"Saying that something is complicated is code for wanting to tell someone to shut the fuck up." Tucker stated finally, giving Wash a pointed look to match his declaration.
"Tucker—"
"Is it because you're working for Hargrove and that jackass has our business in a stranglehold?"
Washington blinked gray eyes. Leave it to Tucker to not beat around the bush, and for being surprisingly observant too. Finally, he nodded in response: "Most likely, yes."
Carolina was not the type of person to willingly forgive such transgressions easily. Washington imagined his working directly for Hargrove had come as a huge shock to her when she had first found out about it.
"Doesn't seem to stop Tex too much though." Tucker noted, mentioning Wash's fellow co-worker and former Freelancer comrade by name.
Washington couldn't help but smile wryly at the driver's comment, "Nothing stops Tex."
"That's true." Tucker laughed again, a clear sound that Washington would pay money to hear more often. Still, in the next second the teal-wearing man was back to frowning, "It just sucks that you two have gotten to this point."
Well, Washington couldn't argue with his sentiment. It did royally suck that he couldn't even reminisce with his old boss.
He sighed, remembering why he had felt the sudden urge to see Tucker in the first place, "Kimball is looking into starting her own business down in Blood Gulch."
Tucker raised an eyebrow at that bit of news, "Does she have the money?"
A shake of his head accompanied Washington's reply, "No. At the moment it's still all up in the air."
"Oh. That sucks." Tucker tapped his fingers on his knee absentmindedly, "Still, Blood Gulch would be a fucking fantastic spot if she could get the money. Hargrove hasn't pounced all over it yet."
Washington absentmindedly nodded his head in agreement, "I think Kimball might approach Carolina with a deal."
Tucker snorted, "I'd love to see her try." He told Wash, "Church has been trying to get her to move locations for a while now."
That was new information to Wash, who frowned in thought: "Any idea why she hasn't?"
The dark-skinned man shrugged, "Legal shit from Hargrove and sheer stubbornness on her part would be my guess."
"I see." The last one in particular definitely sounded like Carolina.
"But I'll see if I can't put a good word in for her." Tucker informed him, "Your friend Kimball's a pretty fine lady."
Washington smiled, feeling immensely grateful, "Thank you, Tucker."
"Eh, don't even fucking mention it." Tucker shrugged and looked away, "I mean, that is what friends are for. Am I right?"
Washington could have sworn there was almost a quiver of disappointment in Tucker's voice, although perhaps he was simply imagining it due to the slight stab of the emotion he felt just then at the "friends" comment.
"Friends." Wash swallowed dryly, nodding, "Right."
The blond had to remind himself that this was all it was currently. Just two friends enjoying one another's company, with one of them desperate on the inside for the night to not end.
The former Freelancer sighed. If Tucker noticed his less than enthusiastic response, he chose not to comment on it.
"Dude, one of these days we'll need to hang out somewhere else." Tucker noted, face turning slightly red at his own remark, "Your neighbors are probably gonna start talking just as much as the assholes at the garage do."
"Oh?" Washington raised a blond eyebrow inquisitively, "What are they saying exactly?"
If it was anything like the joking comments he got from Tex or Felix when he mentioned his personal drive home? …Well, with that particular train of thought Washington could feel his own face turn red.
"N—nothing!"
Tucker was acting oddly sheepish for "nothing," but Washington was afraid to say more on the subject out of fear that doing so would drive the other man away. Truthfully, the former Freelancer was really at a loss as to what to say.
Tucker sighed, "Maybe next time you should just come to the garage, like Tex does." He noted, shrugging, "If you're in the area, that is."
Washington couldn't help but raise an eyebrow again, "Are you talking me out of hiring you?"
Tucker shrugged once more, again looking oddly sheepish, "Hey, man, it's your money. Waste it how you fucking want."
The blond thought about it for a moment, "All right." He finally said at length, "The next time that Tex goes, I'll come along too."
Tucker grinned at the confirmation and Washington had to ignore the odd feeling of happiness that washed over him at the sight, "All right!" he exclaimed, looking hopeful, "Maybe Carolina will even talk to you if you hang out there more."
Leave it to the teal-wearing driver to be unfailingly optimistic. Washington rolled his eyes, "One thing at a time, Tucker."
But, Tucker had already moved on to discuss Junior's progress in school. As Washington listened to the younger man gush proudly over his son, a mix of contentment as well as surprise overcame the security guard as he recalled what Tucker had asked him.
Had Tucker, however unintentionally, asked Wash out on a date of sorts? Washington couldn't help but smile slightly at the thought, even as he worried that he was probably reading way more into the situation than he should be.
Richard "Dick" Simmons stood in the car Arrivals lane of Armonia Airport while Dexter Grif held his luggage, fidgeting awkwardly as his freckled face took on the sudden likeness of a tomato.
"H—hey, Grif." Simmons greeted quietly, swallowing nervously at the same time, "Long time no see, huh?"
"I'll say." Grif snorted at the understatement, knowing that it had been years since either of them had seen or even been in contact with the other.
The chubby man had heard on occasion from Donut about Simmons' progress since the redhead had moved away from Rat's Nest, but it was never anything too big or too major. There had certainly not been any mention of this.
Grif made a mental note to throttle the pink-wearing man the next time he saw him for not telling him that Simmons was coming back to the city. Donut was normally such a fucking gossip queen, Grif couldn't believe he had managed to avoid saying anything all those times the lazy driver had visited The Big Gulp.
"H—how have you been?" Simmons said, apparently working up the courage to try to sustain a conversation with Grif this time, something the pale-skinned man had never had the guts to do in high school.
Grif shrugged, "Can't complain too much." He remarked without seeing the need for too much elaboration, "You?"
"I—!"
Simmons was cut off just then by some jackass honking their horn behind them, the lanky man's entire body going rigid at the sound. Grif promptly gave whoever it was the finger with an apathetic scowl on his face.
It was at this point that the tinted window right beside them rolled down, and Hargrove's disapproving face appeared before them both. "Do I need to remind you where we are?" he asked, his annoyance evident in his tone.
Simmons' face lit up even more in embarrassment, "My—my apologies, sir!" He squeaked out before shooting an apologetic glance towards Grif.
The orange-wearing driver shrugged, "Sorry." He muttered under his breath, more to Simmons than to the Charon chairman.
Grif shot Simmons a look that he hoped translated to "It's cool, man." before he went to put Simmons' luggage into the trunk. He didn't need to see the pale redhead get into a panic attack over what had happened, guessing that was where they were headed if Grif didn't help move things along to get back on schedule.
Simmons had let himself into the back of the car by the time the tan-skinned man was done closing the car's trunk, and Grif wasted no time in driving down the road once more. As much as he might want to catch up with Simmons, he knew it was best for the both of them to avoid pissing Hargrove off any more than their unexpected delay had probably done. After all, the stuffy business types like Hargrove always had their schedules micro-managed to be the most time effective. That was Grif's idea of a personal Hell.
Simmons was currently sitting across from Hargrove, looking just as uncomfortable and awkward as he had out on the sidewalk before. Not that Grif could blame him for that considering who he was sharing a backseat with.
"Um…tha—thank you, sir." Simmons directed towards his boss, "For getting me from the airport."
Hargrove said nothing to the redhead, choosing to instead merely look out the car window disinterestedly.
Simmons swallowed, "But a ride from the airport with you personally is…a bit excessive, don't you think?" he continued.
"Simmons." Hargrove stated without looking at the man in question, "It's important that you understand what your current standing is."
"I…" Simmons blanched before looking down at his clenched hands resting on his lap, "Y—yes, sir. Of course, sir."
"Good." The elderly man nodded his head approvingly at the gesture, "Now, work will begin promptly tomorrow at seven. I suspect you'll have adjusted from the move by then?"
While the statement was posed as a question, Hargrove's tone left little room for argument. There was clearly only one acceptable answer to the chairman's remark.
Simmons picked up on that thread as well, nodding his head, "Yes, I have the itinerary already, sir." He informed Hargrove in full kiss-ass mode, something Grif often witnessed when around the intern Matthews at Project Freelancer.
There was more talk following that, but it was filled with the kind of business lingo that would cause Grif to fall asleep if he listened to it too intently. Which probably wouldn't be a good thing considering that he was currently driving and all.
But, Grif did pick up that Simmons seemed to have some kind of secretarial position in Hargrove's company, which explained his shocked reaction to Hargrove having come to pick him up personally. Simmons no doubt was wondering why the head of Charon would deign to personally arrive at the airport to pick up a new low-level employee. Grif sure as hell was wondering that himself.
Honestly, the whole situation certainly left more questions for Grif than answers, particularly when he was instructed to go back to Hargrove's estate instead of wherever it was that he assumed the redhead would be staying at now that he had moved back to Rat's Nest.
Grif didn't say anything though, and continued with his job as was expected despite his growing curiosity. Tucker was right: he couldn't afford to blow a pretty simple-yet-frustrating gig.
Out of the corner of his eye in the rearview mirror, Grif could see Simmons fidgeting nervously in his seat. Every so often, the redhead would glance up as if to catch Grif's dark-eyed glance. However, whenever that did happen, Simmons would look away with a blush forming on his pale skin.
Grif raised a dark eyebrow at the maroon-wearing man's actions, but he wisely kept his focus on the road.
They arrived back at the estate a bit later due to heavy traffic. As the car pulled up, Grif could see that the Charon security force had changed shifts while they were away. Instead of a mocking Felix and taciturn Locus, it was now Tex and Kimball who greeted them.
Both women stood at the ready as Grif stopped the car and lazily opened the backseat door for Hargrove. Tex flashed the heavyset man her trademark smirk while Kimball gave a slight nod of greeting to him.
"How was the trip to the airport, sir?" Kimball asked professionally as Hargrove made his way to the mansion's entrance.
"Uneventful." The older man's reply was automatic, Hargrove not even bothering to look back in their direction at all as he spoke, "See to it that Simmons finds his way to his room."
"Of course, sir." The dark-skinned woman nodded as Hargrove entered the building.
Tex regarded the reluctant-looking man in question with a wry expression on her face, "Bet you're going to love working for him." She stated sarcastically.
Simmons looked positively deflated. He couldn't even bring himself to respond to Tex's taunt. Grif almost wanted to say something to the freckled man, but was at a loss as to how to comfort someone he barely fucking knew years ago back in high school.
Both Kimball and Tex shot one another concerned looks at the redhead's disposition, and Kimball smiled gently, "It's not…it's not so bad." She told Simmons in a quiet voice.
Tex coughed, looking oddly uncomfortable in her attempt at being reassuring, "Well, the pay isn't bad at least."
Simmons looked at them then, smiling gratefully for the kind words. All that did was pique Grif's curiosity even more about why Simmons was there in the first place.
But, first and foremost, he had a job to do. Loath as he was to admit it, his lazy ass really couldn't afford to lose so steady a gig as the Hargrove one was. He opened the trunk and reached out for Simmons' bag, just as Simmons himself apparently decided to do so.
Their hands, one thin and pale, the other tan and chubby, smacked into one another.
Both men paused at the contact, Grif suppressing the usual "Watch it, nerd!" reaction he usually barked out in such instances, especially since Simmons pulled back as if his touch had somehow burned him.
"It's okay, dude." Grif joked, raising a dark eyebrow, "It's not like I have cooties or something."
Simmons' face turned red in light of Grif's mocking tone, "It—it's not that, asshole!" He muttered angrily.
Grif smirked at the reaction he had just gotten out of the redhead, "Oh, so you can snark back. That's good to know."
His remark seemed to throw Simmons off-guard, and the orange-wearing driver used that opportunity to lift the baggage out of the trunk, pressing its handle into Simmons' outstretched hands. Simmons blinked, looking at Grif as if about to say something when…
"It's best if we don't keep him waiting." Kimball stated, reminding the two men of just who's driveway they were currently standing on.
"Right." Grif nodded, "I should get the fuck out of here too." He waved goodbye to Tex and Kimball before turning to Simmons with a smirk crossing over his features, "Guess I'll see you around, nerd."
He heard an indignant sputter come from Simmons at that, but Grif was already back in the car and pulling away from the Hargrove estate before the lankier man could form a coherent sentence. But, at least he was leaving Simmons with a bit of fire in his green eyes. That was way better than the nervous wreck the redhead had been before.
As he drove through the streets of Rat's Nest, Grif's mind raced with a ton of questions. He couldn't believe that Simmons was back in Rat's Nest, and that he hadn't known about it before now.
Why was the redhead back, and why was he working for Hargrove of all people? Fuck it. For that matter, why was Simmons living at Hargrove's place?
Grif frowned, not at all really sure if he wanted to know the answers to some of those questions. But, he did have a likely idea as to who could provide him with them in the first place.
The chubby man's grip on the steering wheel tightened, teeth clenched as he headed back towards the Project Freelancer garage with lingering thoughts of red hair and a blushing face still forefront in his mind.
…Grif just hoped that, when he did swing by The Big Gulp later to ask his questions, he didn't throttle Franklin Delano Donut before the pink-wearing café owner could answer them.
Author's Notes: Well, I might not end up making the deadline for the official word count for NaNoWriMo, but I am having fun trying so far even as I get swamped with work and allergies make my sinuses all wonderful. XD
As always, thank you for taking the time to read this! :D
