Simmons is captured.


Pairings Beyond Grimmons:

~N/A

Other Notes for This Story:

~Set after Season 12, but probably before Season 13.

~Written for the 15kinks comm on Dreamwidth. The prompt was "Libra: #4 Sensory Deprivation."


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

Sight Unseen

Richard "Dick" Simmons had lost count of the hours following his capture by the pirates on Chorus. His squad had been on a routine mission when they had been ambushed.

He recalled giving the order to retreat, remembered that Jensen had been the last one out. He had been just a few meters behind her when an explosion had knocked him out. When Simmons had regained consciousness, it was to nothing but a heavy, thick blackness.

Because, of course, stripping him out of his maroon armor and leaving him in his black, skintight under suit while tied down to a chair wasn't enough for the assholes. They just had to blindfold him too.

While someone like Tucker might have been into this type of scenario, and the cyborg was pretty sure Grif had videos that started with similar scenes but with very specific music in the background, Simmons definitely wasn't enjoying any of this. These pirates were Grade-A douchebags. He wouldn't be surprised if some of them were the bullies he went to school with.

Simmons wasn't sure which was worse. His own self-conscious humiliation over being practically naked (he wasn't really, but given how little the damn under suit left to the imagination, he might as well be) and helpless in front of genocidal maniacs? Or the fact that he couldn't see whatever it was the assholes were doing?

The only conclusion the redhead could definitively come to was that his luck sucked major ass.

The jerks gagged him too, so apparently it wasn't information they were after. At least not yet. Or maybe they had just decided his oh-so-manly wail of "Ow, the back of my head!" right before he blacked out didn't need to be repeated.

All Simmons really knew about his surroundings was that he was in a room of some kind, because he heard the door open and close whenever one of the assholes entered or left. If they had been there, he imagined Sarge would have praised him for his deductive reasoning, while Grif would have just rolled his eyes and said "Uh, no fucking shit."

A lot of the conversations that he overheard from the pirates centered on eerily mundane things, like the weather or a sports game. It unnerved him how casual they were. Did they not freaking see that he was there, uncomfortable and having a freaking panic attack?

Of course, he preferred being ignored to being noticed. Sometimes, the conversation would turn to him, and that was when his already high-as-fuck anxiety levels really started to go into overdrive. The assholes discussed torturing him, or putting a bullet through his brain with the same casualness as they did the weather. It did not instill confidence regarding his safety.

When they first started to talk about him, he'd struggle. That seemed to amuse the jerks to no end, so he tried not responding at all after a little bit. It sometimes worked for the bullies back when he was a kid, although sometimes they'd embrace their inner douchebags even more.

Evidently, some of the pirates were no better than his schoolyard bullies had been. His non-response seemed to actually piss off one of the pirates even more. Said asshole decided it would be hilarious to add headphones onto Simmons' plight.

The cyborg tried struggling a bit by thrashing his head around when the heavy fabric tightened over his ears. But, the offending items remained firmly in place and, in his terror at the sudden muted sound around him, Simmons went stock-still.

His stomach twisted into knots as the mechanical components that now made up his heart thundered loudly in his ears. He couldn't breathe…

Then the assholes started touching and prodding him with unseen objects. A painful poke with a metal bar on his arm, a barrel of a gun at his temple. When he thought that he was finally being left alone, he'd feel things like hands grip his hair. Such occurrences happened at random intervals, with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

They were just fucking toying with him. Damn fucking asshole pirates. Simmons willed himself not to cry, if only because he imagined his squad and the rest of Red Team being disappointed in him if he did. Grif would have never let him live it down. So, he tried his hardest to remain as unresponsive as he could.

Mercifully, or unmercifully depending on how one were to look at it, his captors evidently got bored with playing with him. Thankfully, these pirates really were just like his schoolyard bullies. They also had the attention spans of gnats, and probably the same I.Q. too.

So the assholes left him, or at least retreated further from his personal space in the room. Simmons was by himself, left in darkness and silence for who-the-hell-knew-how-long.

At least it wasn't one of his squad here in his stead, or a friend. Simmons at least had had a lifetime of bullying, teasing, and living with anxiety that somewhat prepared him for this situation. Not that it was probably a good thing he was mentally more equipped for such an occurrence than another might be. Lots of broken bathroom mirrors could attest to that.

Simmons had almost, almost managed to calm his nerves down when, through the earmuffs on his head, he swore he heard the faint sounds of… Was that fighting?

The muted echo of gunfire sounded like it was coming from far away though, for all he knew, it could be coming from right next door. Suddenly there was a rush of wind coming his way, like the door to the room had just burst open.

The redhead stiffened at the rush of air on his face. He couldn't help struggling at the unexpected development, even if it might cost him later. He tried once more to pry his arms out of the restraints in earnest, panic increasing at someone else being in the room with him.

Suddenly, Simmons felt two strong, armored arms wrap uncomfortably around him. They practically lifted his whole body, chair and all, off the floor. He should have fucking freaked out, but instead of panicking even more, Simmons felt oddly at ease and safe in that awkward, crushing, uncomfortable-as-all-fuck embrace.

There was a sense of warmth, of familiarity in it that he couldn't quite place. An odd scent suddenly surrounded him that had him thinking it would all be okay. A mix of pungent body odor, sweat, cigarettes, and Oreos. It was disgusting and he kind of wanted to gag, but he felt like he was safe too.

Muffled voices were talking all around him. Seconds later, rather reluctantly compared to the intense suddenness of before, the chair was back on the ground.

When the blindfold and earmuffs were removed, he blurrily saw the rest of Red Team standing protectively around him.

Simmons didn't hold back his tears following that sight, but it was okay because Donut was already crying "tears of joy" while Sarge and Lopez shook their heads and Grif complained that the rescue mission interrupted his midday nap.

Dexter Grif's breath reeked of cigarettes and Oreos when he spoke.


"You ready to go, kiss-ass, or what?" Grif's lazy voice drawled from where he was observing Simmons in the clinic's doorway.

Doctor Grey had insisted on giving the cyborg a full check-over once he had returned to the base, and she had just given him the all-clear to leave.

As Simmons got up from the clinic's bed, he held the "Get Well Soon" card that Jensen, Volleyball, and the rest of his squad had given him. It was lovely and totally didn't make him cry unmanly tears (damn it!).

As for the other Reds and Blues, they had already checked up on him and were currently in a debriefing with Kimball and Doyle.

Evidently, Grif had skipped said briefing because it was "too much of a hassle" and had decided to check in on his teammate because he had "nothing better to do." In other words, the orange-armored soldier was looking for an excuse to shirk his duties. What else was fucking new?

Simmons rolled his eyes, "I'm coming, fat-ass."

Grif waited for the cyborg to step out into the hallway before following suit, "Are you ready to be moving around now? If I was you, I'd need a week or two of recovery time, tops."

"Of course you would." Simmons sighed, not at all surprised at Grif's ability to create a lazy lifestyle.

Honestly? The thought of not moving for a while was rather unsettling to him at the moment, especially given the past couple of days.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Grif took a cigarette out of the compartment of his armor where he had oh-so-secretly hidden them and lit one up, "You went through a lot. No one would blame you for taking it easy."

Simmons stared at him, both shocked and aghast all at once. Was Grif actually trying to express concern for someone other than himself? Those moments were so rare for the apathetic soldier, it almost felt like Simmons was hallucinating.

"What? I had a traumatic time of it too."

…Of course Grif would ruin the moment by making it all about himself. The glow of the cigarette in the darkened hallway stood out almost as much as the light from Simmons' red cybernetic eye.

Normally, this would be the time when Simmons would yell at Grif to not mess up his lungs.

But, there was something about the lingering cigarette smoke in the air that reminded him of protective arms encircling him in the dark.

"G—Grif?" The redhead asked tentatively, a smile and blush creeping onto his face.

"Yeah?" Grif eyed Simmons skeptically, as if expecting a lecture.

"…Thanks."

For a moment, Grif seemed surprised and caught off-guard. Then, a knowing look crossed over his dark eyes and he couldn't help smirking.

"I missed you, nerd." Grif mumbled under breath that held the stink of cigarette smoke and Oreos.

"I missed you too, fat-ass." Simmons replied under his own breath.

He wasn't sure if Grif even heard him, but that was how it always was with them.

They both sucked at words.


Author's Notes: My first prompt fill for Dreamwidth's 15kinks comm. I just wanted to get something a bit less angst-y out than my previous story was while still experimenting a bit, and this was the result! I admit, it was a little strange writing a story set earlier in the show after the whammy that was Season 15's Episode 6, but I found it sort of therapeutic in a way too. This one shot was a bit of seriousness blended with some fluff right at the end, so I hope it was an okay read for everyone. :)