Post-Season 13. Grif wakes up in a hospital room without Simmons there.
Pairings Beyond Grimmons:
~Bitthews
~Docnut
Other Notes for This Story:
~Post-Season 13, so there might be some slight spoilers regarding Church.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
When You've Gotta Go…
Sometimes staying at Chorus really sucked. Of course, the buzz and humming of the hospital machinery was what made it worse currently. Well, that and the sterile stench of disinfectant filling the space. It was impossible to escape the odor of cleanliness that was so foreign to him.
Dexter Grif had always hated hospitals. He wasn't fond of visiting them or being a patient at one. He supposed that, for the most part, being alive in a hospital was better than the alternative of being dead outside of one, but still!
It wasn't like the orange-armored solider needed much of a reason to bitch and complain. After all, what would have been really ideal was if that bullet hadn't hit the dumb cyborg in the first place, especially since it had happened while they had been waiting for rescue. Simmons had the worst timing ever.
Grif didn't think he had ever worked so hard in dragging someone else through a hail of bullets as he had done back then. Fuck it, even Sarge had been impressed!
If Grif had been a kiss-ass like someone else he knew, all of his daddy issues would have been resolved with the Red Team leader's awkward praise. Let's not forget that it was Grif whom Sarge was addressing in the rescue transport that was taking them back to safety. The older soldier looked like he had thrown up a little when he said "Good hustle, dirtbag!" So, not wanting to throw their entire dynamic totally out of whack since shit was stressful and weird enough as it was, the chubby man apathetically told his "superior" officer to "Fuck off, sir." Just like the good old times.
So now, here Grif was, sitting in one of those hospital rooms that he has always hated. The tan-skinned soldier was currently just waiting for a stupid nerd to wake up so they could talk and act like nothing almost life-altering had happened again. There would be no fanfare or fancy hero homecoming at all.
That wasn't their style and Grif, who just wanted their usual routine back, was perfectly fine with that. He was, after all, inclined to taking it easy when he could. He'd been making a lot of progress with training the neurotic kiss-ass in question to do so as well.
The others had already come and gone for the day. Sarge, Lopez, and Donut had visited together in what they referred to as Red Team solidarity. Well, Sarge and Donut called it that. Grif still honestly had no fucking clue what Lopez said. The Red Team trio were then followed by Doc and then the lieutenants as the group of rookies had come to visit both the captain and Matthews. They were then followed by a visiting Blue Team, who were still mourning the loss of Church but united together. Understandably given the circumstances, they didn't stay too long.
Visiting hours had long since passed, but the medical staff would have to forcibly drag Grif away by this point. They must have taken one look at the chubby soldier and decided it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, it wasn't as if Grif was alone in his "rebelling against visiting hours" protest since Bitters was at the side of the other bed in the small hospital room, remaining staunchly vigilant over Matthews. Like a true maverick.
…Bored as fuck while he waited for Richard "Dick" Simmons to wake up, Dexter Grif dozed off himself.
It was Donut's humming that eventually woke Grif up, so he couldn't help but glare at the pink-wearing soldier when he opened his dark eyes.
"Good morning, Grif!" Donut stated cheerily enough, a purple-and-pink ribboned picnic basket in hand, "You're up awfully late today!"
"Fuck off, Donut." He gave his overly-happy teammate the finger for good measure, body somewhat sore from the awkward sleeping position he had been in before.
Had he really slept here the whole night? Fuck. That wasn't going to do much for the apathetic reputation he tried so hard to maintain. It was a lot of effort on Grif's part to pretend not to care.
A just as haggard-looking as Grif felt Bitters was sitting by Matthews' bedside, holding the now awake but still somewhat groggy-looking Matthews' hand. The kiss-ass kid was going to be fine, but he still needed bedrest for a few more days.
Kiss-ass? That description made Grif remember someone else. He looked down towards the bedside that he had been sitting next to…
…The now empty one.
"Where's Simmons?" Grif asked, voice belying his panic.
What if the medics had found something else wrong and the redhead had been pulled into surgery again without them telling him?!
"Oh." Donut's gleeful expression turned crestfallen, "I'm afraid he had to go, Grif."
With those words, Grif was already up and running out the door without waiting for whatever else Donut might say. For a fat-ass, he sure could run fast when he wanted to.
Donut sighed, glancing at the thoughtful basket still in his hands, "Aww, no one seems to want to sit down and enjoy the banana nut bread that Doc and I made last night! We tweaked the recipe so that it has even more nuts too! Having more nuts help you heal quicker. Doc told me!"
The dirty blond glanced over at Bitters and Matthews hopefully then, Bitters going "Oh, fuck." while Matthews smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly before saying "That's an excellent idea, sir!" as Donut skipped on over to the two lieutenants.
After scouring the hospital for any trace of Simmons, to which the orange-armored soldier found there was none and several doctors became perturbed by his loud intrusions, Grif found himself at his and Simmons' shared living quarters in Chorus.
The dark-haired man opened the door to the now far-too quiet and suffocating-ly empty room, heart hammering in his chest. He was unsure of what to do next. Where could the fucking nerd be?
Maybe sucking it up and asking Donut would be the best solution, but a part of him was terrified at what the youngest member of Red Team would say. …Also, he was terrified of the picnic basket, since no good came from anything Donut and Doc produced together even if it was edible.
The chubby man was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a toilet flushing. Suddenly, Simmons was standing there and looking just as confused by Grif's presence as he was by the cyborg's.
Grif broke the stalemate first, "You've been here this whole fucking time? I've been looking for you!"
Simmons' face took on a reddish, indignant hue and he began to speak a mile a minute, "Well, I'm sorry you're such a heavy sleeper, fat-ass! I tried waking you and you wouldn't fucking budge and I really had to go, and Matthews was there and…!"
The lanky man paused to breathe, an embarrassed flush illuminating his pale-as-fuck freckled skin. Right, Grif had almost forgotten that Simmons had major bathroom issues.
The cyborg looked away sheepishly as he fumbled to continue, "…And I had to go home to…you know."
"So you just left the hospital?" Grif asked incredulously.
"I asked Doctor Grey first!" Simmons huffed, "Besides, I wouldn't even still be there if you hadn't insisted on it to use me as an excuse to shirk your duties. I had a fucking shoulder wound, Grif. I'm not going to not pee because you're a fucking lazy ass who doesn't want to work!"
He vaguely remembered telling Simmons that once. It was a partial truth. Even people like Washington, Carolina, and Kimball left you alone and didn't bother you about military duties if you're visiting someone in the hospital. But, he also had just thought that the nerd should rest more after getting shot, and keeping an obsessive worker like Simmons in the hospital was one of the only ways to do that. It had basically been a win-win for both of them.
But, then another thought crossed Grif's mind at what Simmons had said and he grinned smugly, "Wait. So, you're telling me that you think of here as home?"
He wasn't sure why, but something about that had him feeling happy even if part of him wanted to mock the crap out of the socially-awkward nerd.
Simmons blushed, "Don't make it weird." He mumbled.
It wasn't weird. For them at any rate. After deliberating for a few seconds, Grif decided he wanted to have a proper homecoming for Simmons, especially now that he knew he was all right.
"Since you're here, want to watch some porn together?" Grif asked the maroon-wearing soldier then, still grinning deviously as he sprawled out on his well-worn mattress to find his indention.
Simmons visibly relaxed at the invitation, "I thought you'd never ask."
He sat down next to Grif on his bed, and Grif looked over at him seriously, "Afterwards, it's back to the hospital for you." He stated, "Deal?"
Simmons smiled, "Deal. But, I'm fucking showering here and using the toilet again before going back."
Author's Notes: This is a birthday gift for my sister, who had the idea for this post-Season 13 fic and thought it might be a fun one for me to write out! :D I hope you enjoyed it, sis. :)