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 Fourteen: Vertigo
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Lavernius Tucker muttered under his breath as he stood by the training hall underneath Church's home, eye twitching at what he was currently witnessing, "First you propose a Specials team to fight crime and now you're fucking babysitting?"
At least Church looked sort-of sheepish in the wake of his teal-wearing friend's ire since he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the details when he told Tucker he had a "fucking emergency" and demanded Tucker's assistance.
"For the love of…" Tucker trailed off as he peered further into the training hall to note that Matthews and Bitters were currently preoccupied with Sarge and Caboose, thankfully out of earshot, "I have my own kid I should be spending time with at home. I don't fucking need more here."
The two seconds of miniscule regret that Church had displayed melted away into his usual staunch stubbornness as he squared his shoulders, "What else would you fucking suggest I do, Tucker?" He questioned rather defiantly, "Let Matthews go back to his place to most likely get kidnapped by Charon or whoever the fuck it was who went after him?"
Church knew how to twist a knife in deep and Tucker couldn't help but wonder what he would have wanted if Junior were in Matthews' place, so he deflated a little, sighing, "Of course not." He admitted as a considering look crossed over his dark-skinned features, "But you have to admit that this is getting pretty fucking complicated." Tucker watched as Matthews pointed excitedly to something in the hall, tugging on Bitters' sleeve. His mind went once again back to a smiling Junior showing him his latest completed school project, "What about his family?" Tucker inquired, knowing that if he were one of the teenager's parents he would be fucking worried sick.
Church glowered, "They're apparently a bunch of assholes who don't even notice when the kid's around most of the time." He informed him, "So we don't have to worry too much on that front."
"Damn, but," Tucker let out a low whistle even as he felt a tinge of sympathy for Matthews, "We may have dodged a bullet there."
"Yeah, no shit." Church nodded his head in agreement, but there was a faraway look in his eyes and a growing frown on his goateed face as he watched the two teens with Caboose and Sarge.
Tucker remembered how distant Church's relationship with his own family had apparently been, save for with Carolina and Gram Gram (may she rest in peace). But his sympathy for his friend only lasted the usual minute they gave one another for that sort of shit before a whole new thought crossed his mind and he had to literally hug his sides to keep from rolling on the floor with sudden, incessant laughter.
He couldn't help it! On top of Caboose, Church had inadvertently adopted two teens. Bitters seemed pretty glued to Matthews so he doubted he would stay away for long. Plus, the asshole always had Tex and Carolina to contend with. He just couldn't make things easy for himself if he tried, and Tucker found that fucking hilarious.
"Wha—what the fuck's so goddamn funny, asshole?" Church demanded, though judging by his reddening face he suspected already that it had to do with him.
Figuring it was probably best for his eardrums not to tell Church exactly what he had been thinking, Tucker managed to stifle his laughter and wipe away a few stray tears, "It's nothing, dude." He tried reassuring a rather dubious-looking Church before changing topics entirely, "So what's our next move?"
The abrupt, rather serious-minded question did the trick of taking Church's mind off of the justifiable suspicion that his friend had been laughing at him for a solid five minutes as he frowned, "Honestly? I haven't got a fucking clue." He stated, mulling things over in his head for a moment before speaking again, "I figure our best bet will be to try and track down more Charon agents like the Triplets for information," he sighed, "But I don't fucking know how to do that yet."
Tucker frowned, a part of him inexplicably wondering just what Washington of all people might think of Church's plan. Or, more accurately, lack thereof. Washington was one of those people who probably planned things years in advance.
"…And you want to cradle her tightly but gently, like a lover." Sarge's voice cut into his thoughts, "But a lover who can and will blow your enemies to smithereens right there alongside you!"
Wait, what? Tucker blinked and looked over towards the older man in red's voice. It appeared as if Sarge was trying to teach the younger trio around him proper shotgun holding techniques.
"Oh, wow! I never would have thought of that, sir!" Matthews stated happily in response.
"Group activities are so important in relationships." Caboose intoned rather seriously.
Only Bitters looked remotely doubtful, "How many dates have you been on?" He asked Sarge, wisely suspect.
"More than you, Dye Job." Sarge huffed indignantly, "Why, with that clear lack of imagination, I should pity whoever catches your eye."
Just as Bitters snuck an inconspicuous glance towards an oblivious Matthews for some reason, a keen sense of dread washed over Tucker as Sarge started bringing up the topic of shell loadings.
"Yeah, someone should probably stop that sooner rather than later." Church murmured with a resigned sigh, "Before he gets to the romantic notion of dismembering his enemies."
Tucker could only nod his head in horrified agreement as the two friends made their way over to avert the catastrophe in the making. They would definitely have to figure out some way to move things along before shit got even more complicated and firearms-prone than they already were.
Franklin Delano Donut hummed happily to himself as he made his way to the front door of Church's massive residence, intent on getting some fresh air. All the pink-wearing man needed to feel refreshed once more was just to get his mouth wrapped around a few good, deep swallows of the stuff and he'd be good to go!
Sarge and Lopez had both arrived at Church's for their own visit, Sarge positively thrumming at the notion that Doctor Emily Grey would be joining them later on too. Donut found Sarge's obvious crush quite cute.
When last he had seen the older man in red, it had been down in the training hall where he had been attempting to bond with Caboose and Church's new ward along with the teenager's friend with the fabulous hair job. Donut had always wanted to go for extreme layers of coloring like that, so he thought that Bitters should be thanking his little cousin for the style instead of being so testy when asked about it. Tucker and Church had been down there watching too, and he had run into Sheila and Lopez sharing a lovely heart-to-heart (or heart gear to holographic heart gear in their case?) upstairs.
Since, in Donut's humble opinion, three was only good company in select situations after boundaries and guidelines had been discussed (to each their own though, he was no prude!), he was left with stepping outside by himself for just a minute or two.
"But I'm not sure that is such a good idea." Doc's familiar voice was heard saying the moment he opened the door, "What if they find out?"
"They won't if you just keep quiet, you fool!"
"We've talked about this before. Name calling isn't very nice, O'Malley."
"Oh, how I loathe you." A deep, exasperated voice let out along with an accompanying sigh.
Donut blinked from the partially open doorway to see if there was someone else there beyond the purple-wearing man's back that he had just missed, but it appeared as if his own brown eyes were not deceiving him. Sure enough, only Doc was standing there, evidently bent over in a conversation with himself.
As the inner discussion continued in muted whispers that Donut couldn't make out, Doc's head bobbed every so often. Donut waited a full two minutes just to be polite before clearing his throat and beaming his most non-judgmental and positively sunny smile the brown-haired man's way, "Hey, Doc! Fancy seeing you out here!"
His cheerful greeting caught the medic by surprise. Donut felt a tad guilty when the other jumped a few good meters off the ground to sheepishly spin around to face him with a hand clenched over his chest, "Oh, Donut!" Doc let out a nervous laugh, "I didn't see you there!"
Come to think of it, Doc may have already been here when Donut had come over following Caboose's excited message of a sleepover with new friends. Donut felt a bit guilty that he hadn't remembered that little detail until just now, but he vowed to try and make up for it. No time like the present to keep plowing on through, right?
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" The pink-wearing man asked, opening the door fully to step beside the bespectacled man. Glasses were a good look on Doc.
Doc blushed slightly at the query and focused his eyes on the ground, his hands shaking slightly as he balled them into fists at his sides, "I just…well, sometimes I feel a bit like a third wheel in groups like this, you know?" He admitted tentatively before casting a look over at Donut as he further explained, "Because of my power."
Ah, so was he referring to groups of Specials in general then? Donut briefly wondered what other circles Doc ran with before shoving that thought from his mind. His teammate was clearly upset, and he had vowed to always give his fellow man a hand if he could get the job done.
He supposed that canceling someone else's most likely cherished and relied upon ability even if only temporarily wasn't probably the most popular of party tricks amongst many Specials. Given that, he felt rather sympathetic to Doc. It wasn't like he could help it!
A thoughtful frown crossed over Donut's face, "Sounds to me like you just haven't found good friends yet." He told Doc succinctly as he smiled once more, "I, for one, am glad you decided to not pull out so soon."
Doc looked flabbergasted at his admission and for some reason rather flustered over it too if his reddening cheeks were any indication, "R—really?" He asked, sounding perplexed.
Donut nodded enthusiastically to get his point across, "Of course!"
Doc returned his smile with a rather nice-looking one of his own, and Donut suddenly remembered something that he was downright bursting to share, "I found the kitchen earlier, and that pantry is just chockful of nuts!" He informed Doc, 'Want to help me make something we can share with everyone? That would be nice!"
Church in particular always looked as though he could use more to eat. Matthews too, now that he had met the skinny teen.
Doc seemed to mull his suggestion over, "Well, I don't think anyone has any nut allergies we have to worry about and they are nutritious, so," he smiled slightly towards Donut and nodded his head in agreement, "Let's do it!"
"All right!" Donut beamed, and he couldn't wait for the two of them get down and messy in this circumstance.
Whatever conversation Doc had been debating amongst himself seemed well and truly forgotten as they made their way towards the kitchen.
Richard "Dick" Simmons and Grif had really only stayed at the diner long enough for Grif to remark on how sad Simmons' lone duffle bag was ("That's all you brought? Well, it wasn't like you had a shit-ton of stuff there to begin with…"). They also got something greasy and no doubt horribly unhealthy to eat before they began to trek to Grif and Kai's home in the horribly named Rat's Nest district.
The walk was filled with a companionable sort-of silence even as Simmons continued having a mental debate with himself over whether or not this was a remotely good idea. He nearly crashed into Grif's back, not even realizing that the heavyset man had stopped moving.
The house that they currently stood before was a small, modest affair but its outside and yard were surprisingly more well-maintained than Simmons had imagined Grif's abode to be.
He gaped up at it in surprise, Grif watching him with an amused smirk on his face, "It's nicer than you thought it would be, right?" He asked, a tinge of pride in his voice as he fished his keys out of his pocket, "You wouldn't believe how much Kai and I had to save up just to buy it."
Simmons could imagine, as he suspected he would have been able to buy at least three of his shitty apartments with the money needed to buy something like this. A chuckle escaped Grif's lips as he continued on with a nostalgic look lighting up his tan features, "Or what we sometimes did to get that money."
Simmons frowned slightly at the admission, not sure he wanted to know, "Illicit things?" He couldn't help asking all the same.
A playful glint crossed over Grif's eyes at the distaste he heard in Simmons' question, as if he was getting a kick simply from riling the cyborg up, "Naturally." He replied apathetically.
Simmons rolled his eyes as they made their way to the door and Grif opened it, stepping off to the side to allow the redhead to enter first. While the outside had been well-maintained, the space inside the house was somehow even messier than Simmons had imagined. There were piles of trash and junk practically everywhere he looked, and he was honestly shocked to not see fungi growing in the corners of the living room or rats trying to drag fast food bags back to their nests.
The look of absolute shock on his face must have been one Grif misinterpreted because he grinned proudly and said, "Lucky you, we cleaned last week."
Holy shit! This was what they considered fucking clean? Simmons resisted the overwhelming urge he had to run just then, his hands twitching subconsciously as Grif showed him upstairs.
The room the heavyset man led him to was, fortunately, actually quite clean despite everything being coated with a fine layer of dust. The maroon-wearing man would have to do something about that later, but at least a closed door would provide a bit of a barrier to the mess found in the rest of the building.
"This is where you can sleep or whatever." Grif told the cyborg without preamble, gesturing to an old futon on the far wall. As Simmons carefully set his bag down on it, the orange-wearing man continued, "There aren't any rules here," his dark eyes narrowed pointedly, "Save for not messing around with my sister."
Simmons felt his face heating up, "I—I wouldn't!" He managed to sputter out indignantly.
Grif acted as if he hadn't spoken, apparently wanting to recite this particular spiel from memory before he forgot it, "You're in charge of shit like your own meals too, unless someone's feeling generous."
Simmons nodded his head briefly in understanding, the arrangement honestly sounding more than doable. He felt himself relaxing just a fraction at that realization, even as a small surge of panic hit him at the fact that he hadn't seen what either the bathroom or the kitchen looked like yet.
"Th—thanks, Grif." He stated, surprised at his own genuine earnestness despite his anxiety regarding cleanliness.
Grif seemed momentarily taken aback too, though he quickly covered that up by shrugging his shoulders as if the whole thing was no big deal at all. Maybe it wasn't really to him, but to Simmons it meant a whole lot. "Hopefully the whole mess with Matthews will get fixed soon," Grif said, "And you'll be back to your shithole apartment in no time."
Simmons glanced at the floor, "I hope so." He muttered sincerely before a sudden thought crossed his mind and he glanced around, "Where is Kai, anyways?" Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen her at all when they had come in.
Grif shrugged just as his phone beeped rather incessantly. He peered down at it and swore at whatever he saw on the screen a second later, "We have to go." He informed a thoroughly confused Simmons as he pocketed the device, "Looks like a certain someone's gone and embarrassed the family again."
Simmons blinked, not quite sure why he was getting dragged into whatever was going on but following Grif out the door all the same.
The door to the Landing Zone opened with a telltale chime, Simmons and Dexter Grif bracing themselves for the momentary security scan that accompanied walking into the establishment.
"Hello again, sirs." John Elizabeth Andersmith said in greeting from behind the bar, a nervous light in his blue eyes despite his kind smile.
There was a familiar, stomach-churning smell hanging in the air that caused Grif to crinkle up his nose slightly and a gasping Simmons to try to unsuccessfully block the odor with his hand, looking more than just a bit queasy himself. Grif made it a point to not really look around for the source.
"So," Grif tried to go with a touch of humor to break any potential ice with the bartender, "Has Kai killed anyone yet?"
Shit, he at least hoped it was more of a joke than an inkling of the truth. After all, he suspected that Andersmith wouldn't have just messaged him if it had been too serious of an altercation.
"Not at all!" The tall, black-haired man was quick to assure him before rather hesitatingly admitting, "Though things did get rather messy."
"I bet." Grif rolled his eyes and tried not to focus on the vomit smell anymore than he already had.
"I could have handled those guys myself, you know." At a table in one of the far corners, Volleyball was lightly chastising the source of all the woe and drama and unpleasant scents.
Kai shook her head defiantly, "Yeah, but why should you have had to?" She asked, making a face, "They shouldn't have been such fucking assholes to begin with!"
With his little sister's words, Grif was starting to get a very clear view of what had happened here, "So," he started as he carefully made his way over with Simmons hot on his heels, "Your brilliant solution was to make them all so sick with your power they puked their guts out?"
Kai's eyes flashed angrily as she stood up from her barstool so quickly that it came crashing down behind her, "Why are you getting so uppity when you were the one who taught me that trick for dealing with jerks in the first place?" She demanded.
Grif felt Simmons' eyes on his back and he let out a long-suffering sigh, "You know I hadn't meant an entire fucking restaurant."
Kai let out an indignant huff, crossing her arms over her chest, "It was just four or five guys, and they were all being assholes to Volleyball."
"Kai," Volleyball in turn looked both exceedingly touched and exasperated, though Grif suspected from the light in her brown eyes that "touched" might be winning out, grasping the other young woman's shoulder consolingly as she glanced towards Grif, "Is telling the truth, sir."
"They're correct." Andersmith said, having moved away from the bar to join them, "I was just about to ask the men in question to leave myself."
Grif sighed, his anger and annoyance fading away in light of the fact that Kai, in her own special way, had only been trying to help someone else out. For some reason, he felt oddly proud. It seemed he was really getting fucking soft, "Fine, but you're still going to have to help clean this place up." He relented.
"Oh, that's a given." A new voice emphatically declared from behind the group, causing the small gathering to start and turn around to find a tan-skinned woman with her black hair in a tight braid behind her skull and dressed entirely in silver. She seemed less than impressed with the scene before her.
Andersmith saluted again as Volleyball straightened her posture next to Kai, "Ms. Caboose!" The bartender exclaimed excitedly.
The woman let out a sigh as she stated gently, "We've been over this before, remember, Andersmith? It's Niner."
"Short for Four Seven Niner, a pilot callsign." Volleyball whispered informatively in an aside to Kai.
"Whoa." Kai said, raising an eyebrow, "That's pretty hot. Think she could make me a member of the Mile High Club?"
"Goddamn it, Kai!" Grif exclaimed, although it was Andersmith's earlier remark that caught both Grif and Simmons' attention only a second later as the two turned to look at one another without even realizing they were doing so.
"Caboose?" They both repeated incredulously at the same time.
Recognition dawned on Kai's features as well, and she strummed her fingers on the table, "Oh, yeah," she said, "Isn't that the name of the super big, really cheerful gray guy we're hanging out with now?"
The woman calling herself Four Seven Niner raised an eyebrow herself at Kai's comment, glancing between the three strangers in her midst with newfound interest, "Just how exactly do you guys know my brother?"
Author's Notes: Yep, I went and introduced O'Malley into the plot all sneaky-like here! XD I do believe this is actually the first time I have EVER written a POV for Donut before, so I hope I did him justice and that all of the innuendos made sense!
Haha, Sarge would so describe holding a shotgun like that and you all know it. XD And dang, Tucker, you have it bad. XD
…Speaking of having it bad though, Grif and Simmons are so already there with their "communicating to one another through shared looks alone" thing and they don't even really realize it yet. Silly, silly guys! XD
Next time in Specials: Four Seven Niner takes her crew to have a chat with Church about her baby brother and gets even more surprise reunions; Doc and Donut make some tasty banana bread (chockful of nuts, of course! XD); Sheila and Lopez get rather lovey-dovey; Grif makes another surprising offer to Simmons to help him rest; and Sherry, Darryl, and Terrill get an assignment they really aren't sure they want to complete.
I'm posting this just before a major hurricane is supposed to hit nearby, so I hope everyone in its path takes care and stays as safe as possible!
Thank you for reading! :D