A/N: This is the follow-up to "I Can Tell You What We Weren't Doing". Set around Christmas time. Hope you enjoy!
Little Gifts
Grif sighed, looking dejectedly out over the canyon. It was Christmas, but then again, it wasn't. It couldn't be a proper Christmas at all, not without at least some semblance of the holiday spirit. Somehow, the eternal sunshine and heat of Blood Gulch Outpost Number One didn't quite cut it.
He sighed again, what little energy he had draining from him. The heat, the goddamn heat just sucked his energy all the time. He couldn't even find the enthusiasm to light up. Grif leaned back against the wall on top of the base, feeling his eyes start to slide closed.
"Hey Grif!" Slowly, the orange-clad soldier turned to the source of the interruption.
"What, kissass?" For some reason, the sight of Simmons just made him surly. Ever since they'd made their way back to Blood Gulch, things had been…strained between them. Grif snorted softly in derision, closing his eyes to the midday sun. 'We only had those two hours. There hasn't been anything since then. Was I just dreaming it?'
A soft touch on Grif's shoulder caused him to grunt acknowledgement. He caught sight of his teammate from the corner of his eye and noticed the cyborg wasn't wearing his helmet. "Grif, can you take off your helmet?" Simmons voice was soft, like it had been that day all those weeks ago…
Complying, Grif slowly removed his helmet, wincing a little when the full heat of the canyon hit him. Squinting against the invasive light, he turned to face Simmons. "Yeah?" Grif felt vulnerable, as he hadn't felt since that day.
Simmons had a half-smile on his face, as though he found something pleasing. Grif was growing uncomfortable and self-conscious under his gaze and dropped his eyes to the ground, trying to avoid Simmons' eyes.
The maroon-clad soldier seemed to snap out of his daze. "Here. Merry Christmas." He held for a smallish package towards Grif, which the intended recipient merely stared at.
"What?" Grif couldn't take his eyes off the package, wrapped in some kind of paper decorated to look marginally festive.
"It's a Christmas present." Simmons's face flushed softly. Cautiously, expecting it to explode in his face at any moment, Grif pulled off the wrapping paper.
"Cigars?" He looked at Simmons, surprised. "You got me cigars?" His voice was pleasantly shocked. Simmons felt his blush increase.
"Your cigarettes stink, and these smell better," he mumbled. For some reason this made Grif feel…happy.
"You care about the smell of my cancer-sticks?"
Simmons head shot up to meet Grif's gaze, his eyes surprisingly intense. "Yes. I do." Quickly, he grabbed Grif's arm and pulled the other private to him for a soft, gentle kiss. "I always care."