They had always treaded carefully…
Pairings Beyond Grimmons:
~N/A
Other Notes for This Story:
~MASSIVE SPOILERS for Season 15 through Episode 7. SPOILERS, I SAY!
~Written for the 15kisses comm on Dreamwidth. The prompt was "Sagittarius: #10 Tread."
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Treading Carefully
Whenever Richard "Dick" Simmons was in pain following the surgery's aftermath, he would rub his cybernetic arm.
He'd catch Dexter Grif watching him as he did so, and their stares would linger on one another for a moment before they would both go their separate ways.
Simply having Grif around still to do that was worth it. They didn't need to address it with words.
They had always treaded carefully, the two of them. They had treaded so very carefully when it came to their feelings.
"Hey, man, let's not make a big deal of it. Okay?" Grif had told the redhead shortly after they'd held one another for hours in the shade.
Simmons could only nod his head, Grif's touch still lingering on his face, "Oh, yeah. Definitely."
It was an unspoken rule between them. They'd just ignore whatever…this…was growing steadfastly between them. They had to fucking maintain the status quo.
Simmons was still fuming inwardly over how his confession before the firing squad had been interrupted by the very asshole now standing next to him.
"Whatever you were going to say back there?" Grif asked, having pulled the maroon-armored soldier away from Sarge for a moment, "Just forget it, okay?"
"What? Why?" Simmons wasn't sure where this conversation was going, and if he was being honest he was sort of annoyed they were having it at all. What about the unspoken rule? They were still alive, so didn't it still count?
Grif made a face of apathetic disgust, "Not the right time, dude."
Simmons frowned and nodded. Grif was right, of course. But, he couldn't help but wonder when the right time would be. He suddenly hated that stupid fucking rule of theirs.
Simmons could live with it, really. So long as the two of them were always together. They could tread carefully together.
"It's no big deal." Grif was trying to act like he wasn't shaking as he brought the cigarette to his lips, "No fucking need to make it one."
For once, Simmons wasn't screaming about the fat-ass ruining his lungs. Instead, the cyborg stared at Grif incredulously. "No big deal? You almost died, Grif!" He stated in a high-pitched, disbelieving voice.
The feel of the orange-armored hand slipping through his own, the sound of Grif calling out his name… Simmons shuddered just remembering how powerless and hopeless he'd felt just then.
"Yeah, but I didn't. So let's move on, all right?" Grif said in an exhale, smoke filling the air.
Simmons was too afraid to rock the boat and say anything else on the subject, so he didn't. They had to tread carefully.
It had gone on like that for years, and Simmons had convinced himself that it was okay. Grif seemed content too, and their back-and-forth bickering was a comforting stability in an otherwise chaotic life.
They were Grif and Simmons. No matter what, the other would be close by.
Hargrove's ship was looming overhead, and while everyone else was staring at it, Grif was cursing up a storm and pacing. Simmons glanced over at him, unsure of what to say or do. He knew that Grif had had enough. They all had, but…
Grif turned then, caught the corner of Simmons' eye through the helmet. Silently, he moved back to stand next to the cyborg.
Their shoulders were almost touching, but they didn't say anything. They treaded carefully around each other.
Of course, some things were a bit harder to ignore than others…
Sweat and musk lingered on Simmons' body just as Grif's touch did. The closet in the Temple of Procreation smelled of the aftermath of what they'd done…multiple times, together.
Neither Grif nor Simmons could look at each other now in the darkness despite how frantically, feverishly they had been kissing and grabbing purchase of the other before.
"So…" Simmons tried saying conversationally, figuring he would just beat Grif to the punch, "…We just don't talk about it?"
There was silence for a few tense moments. Simmons wanted to scream the exact opposite out loud instead, and when the redhead opened his mouth to do just that Grif surprised him by pulling his naked body against his own in a tight embrace.
It lasted for only a second.
When Caboose finally got the door open, it was business as usual between them, though the glances seemed to linger more when they thought the other wasn't looking.
But then, suddenly, Grif didn't seem to care about treading carefully anymore.
"I quit."
Simmons was screaming on the inside. He wanted to shout at Grif to take it all back. But, he couldn't move. Simmons couldn't even react. What the fuck happened to treading carefully? Why was he the only one sticking to the fucking rule?
"I hate all of you."
The transport was flying smoothly now.
Simmons just wanted to forget awkward-as-all-fuck conversations with Caboose bringing up way too painful memories. Or snakes. Or lawyers. Or a certain fat-ass who would no doubt be sarcastically remarking about all of those things in an aside to him…
Simmons glanced over to his side to remind himself that wasn't going to be the case this time, and sighed at the vacant air that was devoid of lazy asshole.
"Are you thinking about Grif again?" Caboose asked him quietly from behind.
Maybe it was the possible concussion he had gotten from the faint earlier still impacting his judgement, but Simmons nodded.
"Want a hug?"
Simmons couldn't help but smile at Caboose's attempt to help even as he shook his head. No, a hug wouldn't help him right now.
What he needed was to see a certain orange-armored fat-ass when all of this was said and done. They needed to have a long, overdue talk.
Simmons was fucking through with treading carefully.
Author's Notes: Another Season 15 response fic because I will never stop until Grif and Simmons have the chance to finally hash things out! XD I apologize if this one was weird to read due to its narrative flow. I was actually experimenting a bit with the writing style.
