Simmons notices that Grif has certain habits when it comes to giving gifts.

Pairings Beyond Grimmons:

~N/A

Other Notes for This Story:

~N/A

Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Gift Giving

Richard "Dick" Simmons wasn't sure when he had first noticed it, but occasionally the redhead witnessed Dexter Grif picking an item up or somehow getting something ordered that actually wasn't even intended for his lazy ass.

At first it was things like a tube of lip stick, a ring, a purse. As time passed, the list went on to include movies, mugs, and shirts. Souvenir-like items such as keychains would disappear from Grif's room as quickly as he got them.

Not that Simmons inventoried the room or anything, mind you! It wasn't like he had a designated spot for checking the orange-armored soldier's room on his chore wheel. Okay, so maybe he did. The cyborg couldn't help it if he was both annoyingly inquisitive and liked being organized, damn it!

Simmons tried not saying anything about the objects in question even though it was a true test of willpower on his part to not say anything. But, naturally, that only lasted until his curiosity got the better of him.

So, one night he finally asked about the mysterious items. The question was blurted out in an anxious rush when he and Grif were sitting on the roof of the base alone together, something that had become routine for the two Red soldiers without their realizing it.

"Oh, those?" Grif asked Simmons back as he looked at the butt of the cigarette he had just discarded as disinterestedly as he seemed to be in this conversation, "They're gifts."

"Gifts?" Simmons repeated, surprised at the apathetic admission.

"Yeah. For Kai." The tan skinned man shrugged, "She's the only person I've ever bothered buying shit for. Guess the habit stuck."

Simmons didn't ask about the gifts again following that, figuring there wasn't much else Grif would bother to add. Still, the lankier man couldn't help but feel touched by the gesture (don't cry, damn it!) as no one had ever bothered buying him gifts growing up.

Grif was currently staring at him, making Simmons feel even more awkward than usual. …Which most of the other Reds and even the Blues would probably consider quite a feat considering "awkward" was a description of his normal, everyday personality.

It had been weeks since the incident with the Meta. The redhead had been so terrified that he'd lost Grif, but he didn't want to dwell on why that was now that he could just be relieved that he hadn't.

Simmons had the distinct feeling that Grif had been trying to avoid talking privately with him despite how his eyes always seemed to be following the cyborg wherever he went. The maroon-armored soldier wasn't sure why, nor did he want to admit that it hurt.

"Simmons."

The pale man blinked, having been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Grif had spoken. The chubbier soldier was staring at Simmons, obviously expecting some kind of a response.

"Y—yes?" Simmons managed to squeak out, inwardly cursing the high-pitched anxious tilt to his voice.

Grif looked oddly intense when he asked, "When's your birthday?"

And, because Grif could be a major asshole when it came to pranks, Simmons couldn't help but narrow his eyes suspiciously at the question, "…Why?"

Whatever Grif was going to say next was interrupted by Sarge bellowing for both of them from nearby. A second later, it seemed as if the birthday question was evidently forgotten.

At first, Simmons couldn't believe his eyes. A natural green eye and a red cybernetic eye both blinked, staring at the screwdriver that was wrapped with a hastily, and rather sloppily, made bow on his pillow. The redhead's mind was trying to process just what it was he was seeing.

"It's for your arm." Grif elaborated lazily a second later, "It should fit those screws better than the shitty one you have now does."

"You got me a gift?" Simmons' voice was barely above a whisper.

Don't cry, Simmons, damn it! Don't cry!

The two of them had only just finally revealed how they sort of liked the other and had maybe made out a few times in whatever privacy Chorus allowed. So, now this?

Grif rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Well, you never told me your birthday, so I figured why not today?"

It was the perfect, lazy-as-all fuck answer from Dexter Grif, and Simmons had to hastily wipe at his eyes.

"Dude, are you crying?" Grif asked in amusement, leaning in for a better look at Simmons' face.

"Am…am not!" Simmons gave him the finger promptly and shoved at his chest, touch lingering, "Fat-ass."

"Kiss-ass." Grif was smiling.

"You got me a gift." He couldn't help repeating it in wonder.

The chubbier man hesitated then, looking doubtful, "Y—yeah. Look, if you don't want it or something—"

"No!" Simmons surprised both of them with his vehemence as he cut the other man off, "No. No, I'm definitely keeping it." He smiled thankfully at Grif as he picked up the screwdriver, "Thank you."

"No problem." Grif smiled back.

They hugged quickly, the embrace probably saying even more than they meant it to before they hastily pulled away from one another. They slipped so naturally right back into that comfortable silence they really only appreciated when in each other's presence.

Simmons looked down at the screwdriver thoughtfully, grinning, "If I told you my actual birthday," he began jokingly, "Would I get two gifts?"

Grif smirked back, "Don't get greedy, Simmons."

Simmons wasn't. Not really.

In fact, his mind was already swimming with all of the possibilities for gifts that he could get for Grif since he had the other's birthday already marked in his organized and not-at-all-nerdy day planner.

Author's Notes: A fluffy Grimmons story for my sister who loves her fluff! :D Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope that you enjoyed the story as well! :)