They both agreed to not talk about what happened in the storage closet, but emotions make keeping that promise difficult. Also, Grif keeps stealing Simmons' blankets.
Pairings Beyond Grimmons:
~N/A
Other Notes for This Story:
~This story was inspired by the awesome blankslate101, who asked me about my take on the infamous "storage closet" moment mentioned in Season 15. :D Many more talented and amazing writers than I have already written their excellent takes on what happened, so I hope that this attempt by me isn't too terrible. XD
~Angst and fluff abound!
~Written for the 15kinks comm on Dreamwidth. The prompt was "Libra: #1 Comfort Sex."
~Spoilers for the Temple of Procreation plot point from Season 15, and the final section of the story is set directly after the events of Season 15.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Hard to Say
As the soft lighting flickered to life overhead, Richard "Dick" Simmons' eyebrows twitched slightly in annoyance at the sight that greeted his adjusting vision.
In the rather large storage closet before him, originally a room soldiers used to sleep in before the population of Chorus had drastically dwindled he had once been told by overenthusiastic history buff Andersmith, was an item that most certainly did not belong there anymore.
The mattress that someone had most definitely, rather painstakingly, dragged up here was both beckoning and mocking him. He regretted not having his helmet on as everyone on Chorus was donning civilian clothes for the first time in what felt like forever, as at least he would have had the scent filtered out first instead of being blasted by it.
Gritting his teeth, the redhead stepped further inside the space until he was looming over the very conspicuous artifact. Absentmindedly, he placed the datapad that he'd been planning on using for inventory purposes on one of the shelves of boxed items close by. Mentally, he was already noting that "mattress" wasn't on the inventory list.
Yes, upon closer inspection it was most definitely a mattress and not a very big rectangle-shaped box that someone had taken great pains to drag here and place at the very back of the storage closet. He glanced at the crumpled pillow and assortment of far too familiar military surplus blankets that adorned the offending mattress haphazardly. The sight was far too familiar because he recognized the tear in the corner of one of the blankets. Simmons had made it himself in the throes of a far too often recurring nightmare he had been experiencing while on Chorus.
…Which meant that those were the very same blankets and pillow that he had reported missing from his own sleeping quarters several weeks ago. The very same ones that Jensen and the rest of his squad had so kindly and touchingly pooled their own limited resources together to help him replace. Damn it, he wasn't going to cry over that memory yet again! Five times was more than enough!
Simmons had most certainly not expected this when he had slipped awkwardly away from the celebrations that had been happening all over Chorus in light of the fighting finally being over. It wasn't that he didn't understand the need for partying, especially now that most of the injured people from the last big conflict were discharged from the hospital.
He had just wanted the chance to escape and give his horribly awkward self a chance to breathe and relax away from the gushing accolades and throngs of people closing in from all sides. What better way to do that than by picking a storage closet at random and falling into the good old fashioned thought clearing process of categorizing and inventorying? Clearly, there was no better way. It had gotten Simmons through many a high school and college party, after all.
The usually maroon-armored soldier had been doubly motivated to escape from the celebrations when Tucker had slinked away from the partying himself, grinning and loudly declaring that he had something in mind that would "really kick things up a notch." Yeah, Simmons really didn't want to touch whatever Tucker had in mind with a ten-meter pole.
But here Simmons was now, standing in his randomly picked (for the fun of it, mind you! Randomizing choices when it came to inventory helped add a bit more excitement and mystery to the whole process! He was such a Chaotic Good it was scary) storage closet, staring at items that most certainly did not belong there. Only one single thought came to mind at the sight.
"…Fucking Grif." Simmons muttered under his breath, having absolutely no doubt in the back of his mind who the culprit of this mess was.
"Whoa there, Simmons. I just got here." An all too familiar and rather smug-sounding voice stated from behind the cyborg, "Maybe give me a minute first?"
The still flesh and blood portions of Simmons' face heated up all the way to the metallic plating, and he spun around quickly to find Dexter Grif standing in the open doorway. No, more like leaning against it with a smirk plastered all over his tan face. Looked like he had chosen to leave his helmet that he had still been wearing to try and snooze through another of Sarge's stories without anyone noticing at the party too.
"D—damn it, Grif! Don't do that!" The cybernetic equivalent that Simmons had to a heart was thudding loudly in his chest at the sudden intrusion, "What…what are you doing here?" His green eyes narrowed as he motioned towards the mattress, "Trying to sneak in another nap?"
Grif didn't even bat an eye at his teammate's accusatory tone, which only further confirmed Simmons' suspicions, as he replied: "You weren't at the party anymore, so I figured you were off doing something nerdy and, lo and behold, I was right."
Simmons puffed up his chest in indignation, "Doing inventory is vitally important in order to maintain—!"
"The more you keep talking, the more you keep proving my point, you know." Grif's grin widened before his eyes landed longingly on the mattress and blankets behind Simmons, "But now that you mentioned a nap…"
Simmons' eyes widened in horror at the implication of that trailed off sentence. There was no way he'd be able to get any work done in here if Grif was snoring away!
"Don't you dare, Grif!" He warned, taking a step forward as if to try and push the heavyset man back.
But, he was too late. Grif stepped into the space at the same moment, the door closing behind him. Following that, there was the telltale sound of a…
Simmons squinted in the direction of the door, "Was that a…a lock activating just now?"
Grif raised a dark eyebrow disinterestedly as he also turned to look at the storage closet door behind him, "Hmm? Oh, yeah. It was."
"B—but the closets here only lock from the outside!" Simmons protested, his tone urgent as he tried to convey to Grif exactly what that meant.
His normally orange-armored friend shrugged indifferently, "Yeah, that's what makes this the perfect place to sneak in a nap, you see?" Grif grinned again and moved past Simmons to sit on top of the mattress, "No one would suspect someone of willingly locking themselves away like that, especially for the four hours I've got programmed into the lock."
"F—four hours?" Simmons gaped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His carefully planned categorizing and inventory checking, ruined…!
Grif patted the spot next to him lazily on the mattress, nodding, "Yep, so you might as well make yourself comfy."
It unnerved Simmons how completely nonplussed Grif was in this situation, but he reluctantly complied and sagged down heavily onto the mattress by his side. He pointedly ignored the triumphant look that crossed over Grif's features.
They remained sitting like that, with Simmons pouting and Grif humming a song contentedly to himself for several moments, until a sudden thought entered into Simmons' mind and refused to vacate.
"Hold on." He finally spoke up, turning his head to regard Grif in open disbelief, "You willingly left a party to go and find me?"
Grif stilled slightly, nodding his head, "Yeah, I guess I did."
"One that had free food and booze?"
"Don't make it weird, Simmons." Grif made a face at the maroon-wearing man's incredulity-laced statement, and Simmons could swear that his cheeks darkened slightly in a blush as the patches of what used to be his own far too pale and freckled skin on Grif's face had turned noticeably redder too.
Now that he thought about it, Grif had been hovering around in his vicinity a lot more than what was usual even for the two of them. Had been ever since he had insisted on dragging a wounded Simmons away from the Staff of Charon. He had been shot in the arm and thrown back into a wall during the firefight, cracking a few ribs and cybernetic parts in the process. His recovery had been slow, but he was feeling fine now.
The truth was, Simmons had just been so preoccupied with recovery and all of the victory talk afterwards, along with the mourning for Epsilon and everyone else who had been lost during the war, that he hadn't even realized how much Grif had been hanging around before then…
The cyborg opened his mouth to say something, his own face rather red, but then decided against it. He had no idea what to say about that, really. There were a lot of things like that between the two of them, now.
So, instead, Simmons' brain tried to helpfully supply him with what would undoubtedly be a much safer topic to discuss. "So," he started shakily, running a hand over the edge of one of his pilfered blankets, "Why did you decide to steal my things for your napping spot?"
He expected Grif to give him one of his customary didn't give a fuck or because it was easy responses. It was odd that Grif had found a shelf corner on the other side of the closet incredibly fascinating instead.
"Your stuff…smells nice, okay?" Grif finally mumbled out as if admitting to some deep, dark secret and maybe, to him, it was, "It helps me sleep."
"Oh." Simmons was fairly certain that both his brain and cybernetic equivalent of a heart had stopped working then.
"I'm taking a nap." Grif suddenly declared into the heavy tension now filling the air thickly between them. The tan-skinned man instantly laid down on the mattress as close to the wall as was physically possible for his larger frame, his back to Simmons.
Simmons gulped and shakily nodded his head before adopting a similar position on the mattress with his own back to Grif, "M—me too."
The light flickered off above their heads a few minutes later due to its automated timer, plunging them into sudden darkness. But, neither man chose to comment on it.
When Simmons woke up later, it was to the very distinct and strong sensation that something he couldn't quite place was very, very off.
His entire body felt clammy and hot all at once, as if his insides were melting. His brain was an unhelpful garble of mushiness, and all that he got from it was the distinct sense of urgency that he needed to react, to respond…
To the pair of lips that were pressed hungrily against his own only about a minute after he had woken up, to the fingers that were currently burning his skin wherever they touched, the heavy body that had rolled on top of his to effectively hold him in place.
He knew it was Grif. He recognized the orange-wearing man's scent and familiar, normally comforting weight. Simmons knew that warmth that he was always afraid to reach out towards, but could usually always sense close by. Grif was the one who was currently leaving a trail of liquid fire running against his skin whenever he made contact, who was so hungrily devouring him…
Simmons responded to the kisses just as desperately, just as earnestly—his own fingers finding purchase on whatever part of Grif's sweaty flesh he could touch.
His head cleared a little, but not quite…and he almost cried out when Grif pulled away hesitatingly a second later as if the same thing had happened to him.
"S—Simmons…" Grif's voice was throaty and needy in a way that Simmons hadn't even heard before in his many, many dreams of this moment.
It was enough to put him over the edge again and give into the sudden, intense need that was filling up his very being. The redhead whined, the noise causing Grif's eyes to darken once more with an all-consuming desire that seemed to override his temporary state of confusion.
"D—don't fucking stop…!" Simmons heard himself frantically begging, and he reached up with his arms to wrap them around Grif's neck tightly to pull the other man down on top of him once more, "Grif…!"
He arched his hips up to make contact again between the two of them, and Grif complied with the motion just as readily. Heat pooled in Simmons' stomach, and he stifled another moan by kissing Grif frantically on the mouth.
It was a muddled mess of heat and passion, long repressed emotions brought bubbling to the surface by a sudden frenzy neither of them would understand until later, much rougher than either really cared for. But, at that exact moment, neither Grif nor Simmons particularly cared.
The aftermath was when things became heavy, tense, and so much more awkward between two men who, under normal circumstances, wouldn't have probably yet acted so intensely to their pent-up emotions for the other.
Simmons shivered under the weight of the blankets on his bare skin. His before feverish body was now uncomfortably cold, sticky and sweat-soaked as it was.
Grif was lying next to him, just as naked under the blankets. Simmons' back was to him, but he could feel the chubbier man's body heat against him all the same since there was only a mere centimeter or two of space between them. Grif's hot breath hit the back of his neck and he shivered even more.
"Let's…let's just not talk about it." The tan-skinned man finally said after staring at Simmons in silence for a long while, "Deal?"
Simmons could only shakily nod his head in response, not trusting his voice any longer after all of the noises he had heard escape it earlier.
His eyes glanced down to one of the numerous hickey marks that Grif had left on his arm before he reluctantly tore his gaze away into the darkness.
Behind him, Grif shifted, closer still but not yet daring to reach out over the invisible barrier they had made just then for themselves. His arm was raised over the blankets as if he had planned to either touch Simmons' shoulder reassuringly or pull him flush against his body again in a sort-of backwards embrace, but he seemingly decided against it and lowered his arm once more.
The absence of contact, of feeling Grif's warmth completely as he still desperately craved it, caused Simmons to curl in on himself and shudder even more.
Simmons stared at the evidence for a few more minutes, his brain trying to process just what it was that he was seeing. He took several steps further into the room, hand already reaching out to grasp onto the familiar-looking maroon fabric lying on top of the otherwise orange-covered bed.
The second pillow, also covered in maroon, was no doubt his too.
He grit his teeth in frustration even though a part of him was secretly relieved this scene wasn't replaying itself out in a storage closet somewhere. He took in a shaky breath, trying to dispel that thought from his mind. They had agreed to not talk about it, after all. No reason for his mind to constantly go there.
But, still, for his missing blankets to show up here of all places…
"Fucking Grif." He muttered under his breath.
They had only been back on Chorus for about a week now following the events with Temple and the other Blues and Reds, and he was already missing stuff. Simmons hardly felt comfortable asking a very busy President Kimball for more supplies after she had already generously set them up with temporary quarters while Washington and Carolina were still recovering. Apparently the two were both driving Doctor Grey through the roof by wheelchair racing in order to keep up some semblance of training.
So, following Tucker and Kaikaina heading out on a "Blue Team only…so suck it, bitches!" mission with Caboose to visit the two Freelancers, Donut asking Doc to give him and Lopez (who did not seem all that interested, truth be told) advice on the ideal spots for outdoor yoga, and Sarge continuing his efforts to try to figure out where Locus went after dropping Washington off here on Chorus with some eager help from the lieutenants in order to help "well and truly balance the team dynamics" (whatever the hell that meant)…Simmons had snuck over to the room of the most likely culprit of the missing items.
Well, he supposed it wasn't really "sneaking in" when he had been given the access code and invited over whenever he wanted, but still! Simmons had assumed that whenever he did so, the room's occupant would also be present.
A thought that said person also seemed to share, if the sudden cough in the open doorway to get his attention just then was any indication.
Simmons spun around, frozen like a deer caught in a pair of headlights at the amused smirk playing across Grif's face.
The orange-wearing soldier was leaning against the doorframe in a gesture that was painfully familiar to Simmons, his chest contracting sharply at the sudden onslaught of memory, "You know, when I gave you that code, I was sort of hoping you'd use it to come and hang out with me, Simmons." Grif joked, "Not sneak in here to get a quick nap for yourself."
"I—I wasn't…!" Simmons spluttered, his brain short-circuiting, "I'm not you, Grif!"
"Uh-huh." If anything, the cyborg's denial only seemed to amuse the heavyset man more as he strode into the bedroom with his eyes focused solely on Simmons, "So, what exactly did bring you here then?"
Behind Grif, the door closed and, for a split second, Simmons panicked when he imagined the sound of a lock activating. But, it passed just as quickly as it came.
His green eyes lit up in indignation when he looked at Grif's face, ignoring the contradictory impulse he always got to run his hands over the slowly fading bruises there to make sure for himself that they were properly healing.
"You…you stole my blankets and pillow, Grif!" Simmons managed to squeak out while only feeling a bit childish at the accusation, gesturing over to the articles in question, "Again!"
An almost sheepish, guilty look crossed over Grif's features momentarily at having been caught once more. His face darkened slightly, in that way that Simmons had come to associate with blushing thanks to the sudden pink on his paler skin patches that would accompany it, "Oh, yeah. I guess I did do that."
Simmons gaped as Grif moved past him to sit on the bed, his hand tightening around a fistful of maroon blanket subconsciously as he did so, no longer looking Simmons' way at all.
The cyborg shook his head, "I don't get it." He finally began, "Why…?"
"It's the smell." Grif told him absentmindedly.
He blinked. He'd said that before, hadn't he? Something about how Simmons' things smelled nice, and how that helped him to sleep. Right before they had…
Simmons coughed awkwardly, trying to hide the rapidly growing blush on his own face just then, "I…ah, can lend you my detergent…"
Grif resolutely shook his head, still not looking at Simmons, "It's not that."
"Wha…?"
Grif shuddered and finally turned to face his teammate, an unreadable look on his features that caused Simmons' breath to freeze, "It's you, okay?" He let out roughly, "They fucking smell like you and that helps me sleep."
Oh. Oh. Oh.
Simmons' cybernetic heart was pounding loudly in his ears now, and he took a seat next to Grif on the bed because his knees suddenly felt very weak. He opened his mouth, paused, and tried again with the same result.
Grif watched him earnestly, hopefully, but also defensively in a way that made Simmons' whole being positively ache.
The normally maroon-armored soldier grasped at the first thing that came to mind, the one thing they had both agreed with one another to never talk about, "Back th—then too?"
It was vague as all fuck, but he knew that Grif had understood the question when he saw his dark eyes go wide in surprise before he slowly nodded in response.
They were sitting side-by-side on Grif's bed, shoulders nearly touching, and Grif's free hand was twitching as if he was fighting the urge to reach across the miniscule distance and touch Simmons.
Simmons swallowed nervously, still having a hard time processing how anyone could think of him in that way, "So then, why…?"
"We don't have to talk about it, Simmons." Grif said quietly, looking away again as if he was in pain, "Let's…let's just not talk about it. Deal?"
The words from before felt like a physical blow to Simmons, and he winced. Grif continued talking, not having noticed Simmons' reaction due to his eyes being fixated elsewhere in the room currently.
"I just…I was lonely, once I realized I'd made a mistake on the moon. I missed all of you. I missed you and…"
Grif cut off his nervous, distracting ramble when Simmons reached over that ever so small space between them and pressed his hand into his own. Grif looked down in bewilderment at the gesture before his eyes went to Simmons', desperate and searching.
"I'm glad you came back, Grif." Simmons echoed a variation of the words he had used when Grif had been trying to say that everyone hated him. It had been Simmons' awkward way of trying to convey how that wasn't true, how he had never hated Grif, but it had been as hopelessly clumsy and awkward when it came out as he himself was, "I should have stayed. I really missed you too and…"
Simmons saw the disbelieving expression on Grif's face and, his own face becoming intolerably hot at the very notion that crossed his mind then, figured "to hell with it." Clearly, they both sucked with words anyways, right?
So, even though Simmons' brain was screaming at him that he was an idiot and that he was probably totally misinterpreting things because there was no fucking way someone like Grif would ever like a screw-up like him, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against his.
It took a long moment for Grif to react at all, but just as Simmons was about to pull away from the other man with a rambling apology, already tensing his legs for a panicked run out of the room, suddenly Grif was kissing him back with an intensity that was rare to see coming from the chubby man.
Tan hands wound their way around Simmons' hips just as surely as Simmons' wrapped around Grif's neck as Grif deepened the kiss. Dimly, Simmons was aware of Grif guiding him down onto his back on the mattress below them, his heart hammering loudly at the images that were coming to mind once more with what they were doing.
Grif paused when he felt Simmons' body suddenly stiffen underneath him, "Do you want to stop…?" He asked in concern.
Simmons closed his eyes and shook his head, unweaving one hand from where it had become entangled in Grif's dark hair to reassuringly touch his face. He felt warm all over, but not unbearably so this time.
Grif grinned in response to the smile that Simmons gave him, pressing kisses into Simmons' neck. Simmons moaned, raising his hips up underneath Grif to increase the contact.
It was heated and desperate, a very needy passion shared by both men, but things were more gentle and considerate this time, more deliberate and thought-out. Every gesture and moment bringing a sense of comfort and reassurance with it.
When it was over this time, with Grif and Simmons both spent, there was no lingering awkwardness or sense of wrongness in the air, of something having occurred when they had not quite yet been ready for the leap.
Simmons felt content, peaceful, the warmth radiating off of Grif heating even his usually always cool metallic components as Grif wrapped an arm around him and pulled him as close to his body as possible.
The breath on Simmons' neck was a constant, relaxing note that fell into rhythm with Grif's steadying heartbeat against his back.
There were still about a million different things that would be hard to talk about between the two of them, Simmons knew. There always were. But, the maroon-wearing man also knew from this point on they would both do their best to stick it out. Together.
Author's Notes: … I seriously debated about deleting this whole thing once I realized how inept I am at writing very intimate moments, lol. XD I hope the ending isn't too cavity-inducing!
Things have been pretty busy for me with the holidays looming over the corner, but I wanted to share at least a little something with you all before Christmas. That is probably how the ending ended up becoming as ridiculously fluffy as it did, because I be a sucker for fluff and sharing said fluff when I can! XD
I'm hoping to update a WIP sometime next week if I have the time to do so, although it might end up being another one shot if I have a lot of time constraints. Happy Holidays to everyone who celebrates them this month! :D