Simmons, Grif, and the others face adventure in the world of Remnant!
Pairings Beyond Grimmons:
~Locnut
~Sarge x Grey
Other Notes for This Story:
~Written for the wonderful blankslate101, who asked me to come up with a Grimmons story based around the song "Boop" from RWBY. What I ended up writing didn't quite exactly match the prompt, but it took on a life of its own and evolved into a Grimmons RWBY AU. I hope that is okay!
~Also written for the 15kisses comm on Dreamwidth. The prompt was "Sagittarius: #5 Danger."
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.
Red Like Roses
Richard "Dick" Simmons knew he was in danger as he drifted in and out of consciousness, like a ball bobbing on the surface of rough water. He felt touches filled with tentative tenderness and also utmost urgency, heard a voice that was painfully familiar whisper in his ear.
"Shit! One of them just had to hit the actual shoulder too, huh? As if damaging the nerve endings wasn't bad enough."
Yeah, now that it was brought to his attention, the redhead's shoulder and arm fucking hurt. Which shouldn't have been too much of an issue for his arm in particular given his Atlas-approved cybernetics, unless something had happened to pierce the intricate machinery inside it.
…Something like a bullet.
Simmons cracked his eyes open, but could only see a blurry form above him. Still, his watery vision beheld an oddly familiar combination of tan and orange with a small tint of green higher up. His chest at once was struck with an all-too familiar mixture of longing and pain.
"G—Grif?" Simmons called out weakly, hoping against hope that he wasn't dreaming again, that he was correct about the blurry person's identity.
A face formed in his still swimming vision, familiar in all the ways Simmons recalled. The orange-tinted scales and the odd splotches of paleness against tan skin only solidified his instinct, "…Yeah. It's me, Simmons." Dexter Grif stated after a brief pause, hands once again on his person to try and staunch blood flow in a manner that Simmons vaguely seemed to recall from First Aid Lessons at the newly constructed Blood Gulch Academy they had both attended, "Hang on. I've…I've got you."
Simmons frowned, anxious since he had assumed that Grif had lazed out of his First Aid Lessons. Why would Grif say that anyway? Why was Grif even here? He had left, hadn't he? Yes, Grif had, and he had taken a huge chunk out of Simmons as he had done so. Back then, Simmons had felt powerless to stop Grif in the wake of the awful words the other had so easily tossed his way.
So why was Grif here? Why was he tending to Simmons' wounds? Simmons closed his eyes again, drifting back into a hazy, pain-filled wave of memory.
Simmons stood up in front of the class, already sorted into their teams. He felt horribly self-conscious, already regretting being there.
Of course he would be forced to apply for late entry into a thoroughly brand new Hunter and Huntress Academy far from his home country of Atlas, on account of his panic over the test for that academy. The redhead had to quell back his panic and shame at his father's looming disapproval over both matters. Honestly, Simmons had been shocked to find that he had just barely passed the exam for Blood Gulch at all, and he had to suppress his father's remark about how "their standards weren't probably that high to begin with, being new and all" whenever he talked about his son's acceptance.
…It didn't hurt nearly so often after having heard it a few dozen times.
But now? Now Simmons was standing in front of fellow classmates who had done things the "proper" way, and he couldn't help but feel self-conscious all over again.
"Dude, chill. You look like you're going to puke on the first row of desks."
Simmons started at the sound of an unfamiliar whispered voice in his ear. There were several other students who had been late applicants due to various circumstances, all being divided into two teams: the Blues and the Reds. Simmons had been selected for the Red Team by its senior member, Sarge, no doubt on account of his red hair and maroon shirt.
The young man who had so casually leaned over into his personal space was a chubby teen with tan skin and an orange shirt. He had long and curly black hair, muted orange-tinted scales dotting his skin.
A Faunus, then. Simmons thought of an alligator, probably on account of the teen's scales.
"I—I'm not!" Simmons managed to whisper back indignantly, trying to ignore the telltale lurch in his stomach that threatened to betray him.
"Sure, whatever you say." The Faunus said in a voice that totally indicated how much he thought Simmons was lying.
Simmons felt his eyebrow twitch at the implied insinuation, and he decided right then and there that he and the Faunus standing next to him weren't going to be on the best of terms just as the other fixed him with another assessing gaze.
Then, instead of continuing to mock Simmons like he had thought he would, the heavyset teenager surprised him by smirking self-deprecatingly instead, "Eh, like I should talk considering I was forced into that Menagerie Exchange Program at the last fucking minute." He told Simmons, holding out a hand suddenly, "Whatever. My name's Grif by the way, and I guess we're going to be teammates or something? Not that I care."
Simmons was so stunned that he mutely gripped Grif's hand in response, noting how warm the other teen's fingers and palm were in the process.
"Well, if ever there was a time to learn your Semblance? That was probably it." Grif stated in way of greeting when he approached Simmons in the hallway to their shared dorm room.
Simmons stared at him incredulously, "It was our final exam!"
…His mother had always said that he was just a late bloomer compared to his father, but that was just a ridiculous notion. All that time and training, only for it to flare up at the last minute despite Red Team's efforts to coax it out of him beforehand. Maybe he was just as pathetically useless as everyone no doubt thought he was.
"Yeah, and guess what?" Grif countered, "You fucking passed right along with us, dude."
"Th—that's beside the point, Grif." Simmons said, always having had an easier time dwelling on the negatives than on positives. It wasn't going to change now, even though he knew he should be thrilled to have finally uncovered his hidden power and be a full-fledged Hunter. It had been what they had all been working all these years for, after all!
Yet he felt as anxious and insecure as always. He was probably ruining the celebration for everybody else too. Fucking typical. Simmons sighed and ran a hand through his red hair, "It should have happened so much earlier, is all." He tried to explain.
If it had, maybe Donut and Grif wouldn't have nearly gotten mangled by that Grimm earlier.
"I think it's more a testament to your knife skills that you didn't need to rely on a Semblance before." The chubby Faunus informed him, "Cut yourself some slack."
"Easy for you to say." Simmons muttered as he looked away, "You already knew your Semblance before you even got here."
It was a pretty impressive one too, just like Grif himself when he actually put his mind to something. Simmons couldn't help but feel rather in awe as well as oddly self-conscious and envious. Yet the fat-ass never applied himself until it was nearly too late. He was going to give Simmons a fucking heart attack at this rate.
"Considering how I'm still alive and kicking thanks to when your little force field bubble decided to show up, I'd say it happened at the perfect time, kiss-ass." Grif told him succinctly.
…Holy fuck, was he actually trying to reassure Simmons? The redhead stared at Grif in astonishment.
Grif groaned, becoming decidedly self-conscious under Simmons' stunned regard, "Whatever. You probably want to be alone to mope and then celebrate in some really nerdy way, right? Forget I said anything."
"Wait!" Simmons surprised both himself and Grif by reaching out and grabbing the other's arm. His face went completely hot and no doubt very red as his brain scrambled to come up with anything to say to keep Grif from leaving that wouldn't be too heavy or emotional for them, "What…what are you planning on doing now? Now that you're a Hunter, I mean."
Well fuck if he didn't just go for the loaded question.
Grif stared at the lanky young man's hand on his arm with an unreadable expression on his face, "You mean tonight, or…?"
Simmons wanted to kick himself as he only dug his grave further, "Well, ah, we graduated, right?" He stated, "Technically, we don't need to stay a team anymore."
The thought actually upset Simmons as he finally voiced it out loud. He had gotten attached to the Reds and Blues during their time together at Blood Gulch Academy, especially Grif and the odd way the two of them seemed to balance one another. He'd never really had much of a plan beyond just trying to survive through the training before. Now that he thought about it, going their separate ways…
Well, it would majorly suck.
"What are you going to do?" Grif countered, "Head back to Atlas?"
"Maybe." Not really, there wasn't anything for him there. But was there anything for him here? That was the question.
"Kai's been accepted onto Blue Team." Grif told Simmons, as if he needed to fill the silence.
Grif's little sister had used the same last minute entry into Blood Gulch behind Grif's back as he had been forced to do earlier. After his initial protests, the heavyset Faunus had reluctantly admitted that she would make a great Huntress too, though Simmons knew Grif was just looking out for the girl he had sacrificed so much of his own childhood to help ensure she could live hers.
"Really? That's, uh, great." Simmons blinked, not sure why it was worth noting now when they were discussing another topic instead.
Grif was rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, "Yeah, and Sarge was saying that if Blue Team was still going to be active, then he wasn't going to leave. Donut and Lopez apparently don't have much going on in their lives either so," he shrugged, "Seems like Red Team's still going strong. Inexplicably."
The things you miss out on when you go to mope and fret in a hallway by yourself over your personal failures apparently.
"And you want to stay to make sure Kai's okay?" Simmons surmised, finally piecing the dots together.
"Partially, though she can look after herself." Grif made a face as if admitting something uncomfortable, "It's not like I have any plans either. Us Hunters should stick to teams, right?"
Simmons gulped and nodded, "Survival's better guaranteed that way. Statistically speaking."
"Nerd," Grif's tone was oddly fond, "And if you were staying too, well, you're not too bad of company most days." Simmons felt his eyes tearing up as Grif quickly tried covering his tracks, "I mean, you did just save my life. Even if you're freaking out over how you did it."
Simmons had to wipe at his eyes with his free hand, neither seeming to want to pull away just then even if they didn't comment on it. He had to admit, Grif had a good point. He wasn't bad company most days either.
"Ever wonder why we're here?"
Simmons started at the sound of Grif's voice. The Faunus had remained silent ever since he had practically forced his way into Simmons' hospital room two hours earlier, staring out the window as Simmons worried over if he was feeling any pain because he sure as fuck was even with Doctor Grey and Sarge insisting that they had been given all of the "good stuff" that the small clinic had to offer.
"W—what, you mean in this clinic?" Simmons asked, genuinely curious.
The answer to that question was both loaded and easy to come by. It was because that bandit had lured them into a Grimm's resting spot, because Sarge was visiting with his lady friend Doctor Emily Grey at her clinic only a few miles away, and because Locus was busy protecting Donut while Lopez was inexplicably on a vacation with the Blues.
…Because Grif's Iron Skin hadn't been enough to fully stop claws and teeth this time, and because Simmons had been just a second too late in calling up his "Bubble Shield" as Donut had so fondly and annoyingly dubbed it. It had seemed just as ephemeral and useless in the fight as a real one would be.
It was also because Grey and Sarge had cybernetics they had ordered from Atlas awhile back that were already outfitted for someone of Simmons' build and stature, and because Grif needed a new heart and lungs and an arm and a leg more than Simmons had just then.
Because Simmons had begged until he had nearly passed out from lack of air while Grif lay bleeding and fucking dying until their two medical experts had agreed to the risky transplant operation that would ultimately save Grif's life.
"We're here because…" Because he would have died otherwise, and Simmons couldn't stand that thought.
"No," Grif didn't like emotional heaviness either, so he cut Simmons' off when he saw him struggling to get things out, "I meant why are we here?"
"Uh…" Simmons wasn't quite sure he understood the difference.
"It's one of life's greatest mysteries, you know?"
He was staring at Simmons intently, the fingers of his new hand, already beginning to form their own sets of scales, twitching close by Simmons' cybernetic one. If either of them just reached out now…
Grif suddenly stood up, "Sorry. Pain killers, you know?"
"Y—yeah, tell me about it." Simmons tried going for levity too as it seemed like Grif regretted the conversation just then.
But as he watched a pensive Grif settle down again, not quite meeting his eyes, Simmons had a sneaking suspicion that he might already know his own answer to that question. He couldn't help but wonder what Grif's answer was, though.
Strangely enough, he found Grif on the very same cliffside that they had nearly lost him on in that last fierce battle with the flying Grimm, when its beak had managed to grasp onto the Faunus' ankle in its dying, thrashing final moments and pulled him over the ledge.
Simmons wasn't sure why Grif was there, as he certainly didn't want to be reminded of how powerless and desperate he had felt then, racing forward as the blood and mechanical fluids in his veins felt as though they had turned into an icy sludge, the feel of Grif's sweaty hand clinging to his own just as sweaty one (why hadn't he thought for once and used his fucking cyborg hand?), of the panic in their voices as he felt those same fingers slipping through his own like melting snow.
"Hey." Simmons managed to get out, his voice only breaking a little.
"Hey." Grif said back.
Simmons sat in the snow next to him, ignoring the wet coldness seeping into his clothes.
"I wouldn't look down if I were you." Grif advised him, taking a drag of his cigarette that Simmons didn't have the energy to criticize him for this time since at least Grif was still around to murder his lungs, "It's a pretty gruesome sight."
Simmons could just envision it. A large, avian Grimm's battered and fractured body, a spray of blood over everything black and white. He was just glad that nothing orange had joined the mess of gore down below, "I can imagine." He stated, suppressing a shudder.
The Reds and Blues were huddled in the safehouse that they had found further away, debating on how to best make it back to the village. Simmons hadn't even paid attention to Washington and Carolina's comments to Sarge on the matter, having noticed that Grif wasn't there amongst them. He didn't really want to let him out of his sight now. It was a perfectly reasonable reaction to have after nearly witnessing a teammate being almost pulled to his death.
Simmons wanted to say something now, about how Grif had nearly died, how panicked and lost that thought made him, how he was so fucking glad that the worst case scenario hadn't happened, "You nearly died, Grif." He finally muttered.
Another drag of his cigarette and Grif was looking out over the horizon, "Yeah. That would have sucked."
It really would have. The thought still left Simmons shaking.
"Ever wonder why we're here?" Grif asked him suddenly.
…Simmons had been wondering that ever since he had found Grif sitting by the cliffside. He was about to open his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. He wasn't sure if Grif really wanted to know his answer.
I'm just glad you still are.
Their arms and fingers were nearly touching. Simmons subconsciously leaned in closer, surprised when Grif's shoulder touched his, when the ghosts of fingertips lingered by his own. He wondered if Grif hadn't just done the same.
"It's another of life's great mysteries?" Simmons finally choked out.
Grif smirked, "You know it." And then Grif reluctantly got up, wiping the snow off his pants as Simmons did the same, their odd moment apparently over with, "Let's get back inside, my ass is freezing." He told the cyborg, "Hanging around here maybe wasn't the best idea."
Simmons couldn't help but snort as their usual dynamic settled over them like a comforting shroud, "Yeah, let's not have another cliffhanger."
Grif stared at the redhead as if seeing him truly for the first time in a long while, a grin suffusing his features, "You know, I just wanted to stay on the edge."
Simmons was grinning right back, bumping his shoulder with his own, "You fatass."
If they happened to remain shoulder-to-shoulder when they entered the safehouse later, the other Reds and Blues wisely decided not to remark on it.
"What is it with you and avoiding the really big celebrations?"
Simmons spun around after hearing Grif's remark, the inventory list in his hands nearly dropping in surprise. That would have sucked too since he was almost done after only an hour. He was efficient when it came to all matters of organization and it wasn't nerdy or sad at all, damn it! Simmons quickly put it on the box of supplies he had just checked over.
The redhead felt the flesh and blood portions of his face flush at how accurate Grif's remark was, "N—nothing." Simmons stammered, "I just don't like crowds."
The entirety of the village of Chorus had gathered because of the events in the central square. He certainly couldn't blame them for wanting to do so. The sheer amount of Grimm and bandits they had just fought back would have meant certain death in most other cases.
Perhaps it had been fortunate that the Reds and Blues had been stranded here due to an avalanche. The recently appointed village leader, Vanessa Kimball, certainly seemed to think so given how the Hunters had helped fight back the menaces that had been laying siege to the village several months earlier. Even Kimball having some kind of unfortunate history with Locus that always made tensions rise if Donut wasn't able to intervene between them hadn't changed how desperate Chorus had been for help.
So desperate that the Reds and Blues even helped to train the village's Hunter and Huntress hopefuls. Given how none of them were actually instructors, Simmons didn't think they had done a horrible job of it, even if at first the very thought had made him want to puke his guts out in a corner somewhere.
Certainly, things could have gone a whole lot worse, and had, in countless other fledgling villages all over Remnant facing similar circumstances. By all accounts, everyone should be celebrating their success in doing the impossible. Even Donut had dragged Locus off to do just that before Simmons had quietly excused himself from the festivities.
But Simmons' mindset was such that even though he knew how miraculous their survival truly was, he couldn't stop from shaking and thinking about all of the failures and loss that had still taken place. They had survived, yes, but several others hadn't. A few were ones he had even seen mere hours before, had helped to train over the previous several weeks.
He knew they were partly celebrating to honor them as well, but if he had just acted quicker, done something differently—
"We did the best we could." Grif suddenly told him, and it was almost eerie how it seemed as if they could read one another's mind without saying much at all these days.
"B—but…" Simmons wanted to argue, but knew that he couldn't. They couldn't be everywhere at once, and they had survived something that should have been impossible.
"I'd say recalling everyone in a more quiet celebration is a good thing, yes?"
For the first time, Simmons noticed the two six-packs of beer that Grif was carrying with him and, because his nerves were shot to hell still and because maybe quietly drinking with Grif while remembering everyone actually seemed like a better use of time than even inventorying did, Simmons nodded his head.
…They were down to the last two beers in less time than Simmons thought humanly possible, and his head was spinning.
He had just recounted a story of one of the villagers who hadn't made it but, thanks to her, a family of five had. Grif was laughing at the anecdote because that was "so fucking her" and Simmons' buzzed brain couldn't help but think this was the best way to reminisce.
Here, in a storage closet. With Grif. A man who had noticed he had been missing despite a veritable banquet being laid out before him, whose laugh as they celebrated people's lives together was more thoughtful and warm than Simmons thought should be humanly possible.
Here they were, alive and together after a situation that fucking nearly threatened to make that not true. And Simmons was so damn grateful that wasn't the case.
So he leaned over the minute space between them, their knees had been nearly touching already, and silenced Grif's laughter with a desperate, yearning kiss.
It only lasted a moment before he breathlessly pulled away, afraid to even look Grif in the eyes as he tried to drunkenly slur out an apology…
Only for it to die in his throat when Grif's arms suddenly snaked around his waist, and he was practically pulled into the other man's lap, his chest crushed tight against Grif's.
"Been waiting forever for this." Grif murmured, breath hot on Simmons' face as the cyborg's eyes widened disbelievingly and he almost hopefully asked if that was true.
But Grif's lips crashing against his own again, his hands clamoring for purchase all over his body as Simmons' started doing the same cut the question off. The intensity and passion of the moment left no room for words. It wasn't exactly how Simmons had envisioned this happening, but it was real and they were both there and together and so very much alive.
Simmons desperately wanted to remember, wanted to engrave it into his and Grif's skin. Every touch, every kiss, every sound…
When Caboose found them later, they both came up with a story about the door to the closet having been locked without meeting the other's eyes, Simmons' entire body still red and burning from lingering touches that had ended far too soon.
Caboose did not seem to recall that he had been able to open the door just fine, nor did he notice anything out of the ordinary with Grif and Simmons swaying into the other so their shoulders constantly bumped.
"I quit."
The words sent a chill throughout Simmons' entire body, as if someone had just stabbed him through the chest with an ice pick.
"I hate you." Grif's gaze lingered on him then for a moment more, and it burned as much as it froze, "All of you."
They had just gotten word that the White Fang had emerged under new leadership, and now this!
Why?
The others were speaking, but Simmons didn't hear them. Couldn't.
All he heard were Grif's words repeating like a horrific song in the forefront of his mind, his eyes staring straight through him. As much as he screamed in disbelief and hurt on the inside, he fucking froze, his throat constricting painfully around anything he might have said as panic set in.
Grif's stare lingered only a moment more and then he was gone, never looking back.
Things had been strained following Grif's departure from the team. Kai was adamant that something was up, that her big bro wouldn't just leave for no reason and that he had been lying about hating all of them. Simmons was inclined to believe her, even as Grif's repeated words burned again and again in his brain. He'd be lying if he said the hurt didn't deepen with every passing day.
He couldn't stand hearing Kai and Tucker's arguments about Grif, or Sarge's weak attempts at saying that it didn't matter Grif had left them all behind, or Locus' quiet assurances to a troubled Donut that he was sure there was a reason. Simmons couldn't stand the way Locus, Carolina, and Washington tried to make awkward small talk with him and Kai as if afraid they might break.
So, when a fairly straightforward mission to hunt down a lone Grimm had appeared nearby, Simmons jumped on the opportunity for an errand to distract him from his loneliness. He had been surprised when Lopez and Caboose had both volunteered for it too.
"You're worried about Grif because you are bestest friends, right?" Caboose had told him, "And we are worried about you because you are our friend too!"
"Solo un poco. Desgarrarse mientras se quejando es una forma triste de ir." {"Just a little. Getting torn apart while pining is a sad way to go."}
…Simmons didn't nearly cry at their words, damn it! It was his seasonal allergies acting up.
The trio hadn't planned for the Grimm attack to simply be a ruse for a White Fang operation, and now that Simmons was pinned behind a ruined house's wall, he was grateful that Caboose and Lopez had been at a nearby village getting supplies. It almost seemed as if he had stumbled into the middle of a firefight rather than the other way around though…
"After him!" A voice shouted from some nearby trees, "He went this way!"
That was when a figure in orange burst through some nearby foliage and right into Simmons' hiding spot, also using the wall as a shield for the wave of bullets and other projectiles heading their way.
Simmons' voice died in his throat once more as one familiar green eye and one familiar brown eye met his dumbfounded gaze. Grif didn't say anything either. The only noise were the sounds of bullets ricocheting and hurried footsteps getting closer.
Simmons remained frozen once more under the intensity of Grif's regard. Clearly that, again, was the wrong decision to make here. If he had spoken up back then too, would it have made a difference? Grif's eyes narrowed, taking on a more reptilian edge at the same time that a wave of bullets broke free through the crumbling wall of their makeshift barrier overhead.
Simmons reacted instantly, his Bubble Shield expanding around him. He willed it to include Grif too even though doing so always seemed to make it weaker. The shield should still hold for a little while if the other person was so close by, right? It was fine, they were fine. They could still go back and—
He wasn't expecting Grif, once he was within the protective sphere, to suddenly reach out and wrap his arms around the redhead, twisting Simmons' stunned body so that his back was pressed roughly into Grif's chest and his arms were at an uncomfortable angle with Grif's right arm actually wrapped threateningly tight in a choke hold around Simmons' throat.
Simmons struggled for breath as the scales adorning Grif's body glowed, indicating that he had activated his own Semblance, Iron Skin. He couldn't even choke out a cry of why, his mind reeling with questions, his nostrils filled with Grif's scent and his breath on the back of his neck agitated and quick.
"Dumbass." Grif got out, "Bring your shield in closer before—!"
But his words were cut off by the bullets "popping" (as Donut so woefully referred to it) his shield at that very moment. Simmons felt the discomfort of one of them slamming into his cybernetic arm, his nerve endings reeling, and then there was a sharp, burning pain.
"Simmons!" He heard Grif shout his name as everything dimmed and tilted over. Distantly, he thought to himself how their reunion really could have gone better.
When Simmons next opened his eyes, he was finally able to focus on the area around him. He was in a campsite of some kind, albeit one that had been hastily set up and had all of its equipment messily thrown about. He was resting on his back on the only clean sleeping pallet the space had.
Oh, and the area just above his shoulder hurt and he couldn't even get any feeling to his cybernetic arm—
Probably because it wasn't fucking there.
With a start at that realization, Simmons sat up, the blankets that had covered him (orange with maroon dots, he distantly noted) pooling at his hips as he did so.
Sure enough, his arm was gone, carefully and deliberately removed from his body, no doubt due to the gunshot wound he had received in it if the bandaging around the aching area in his still flesh and blood shoulder was any indication.
Which probably meant that this campsite was—
The flap of the tent opened, and Grif's eyes fell on him, the Faunus' eyes widening marginally at the sight of the redhead awake. Simmons' voice oh-so-helpfully died in his throat once again, eyes widening as well. The silence that followed was heavily stiff and awkward, like the last time Simmons had worked up the nerve to talk to his father.
Grif was the one who broke the silence first, stepping into the tent proper. In his hands was what appeared to be Simmons' arm, a piece of orange duct tape over the clean through bullet hole. It appeared freshly polished and clean too, just as Simmons had always strived to keep it, "Hey." Grif finally said, his scrutinizing and disconcertingly unreadable gaze never once leaving Simmons' face.
"H—hey." Simmons' voice cracked on the word. After such an intolerable time apart, he should be saying so much more, damn it!
But it was Grif who once again broke the tension, a determined look so out of sorts with his usual nonchalance crossing over his features as he strode forward and silently sat down on Simmons' armless side.
"Here." Grif murmured at length, carefully holding up the artificial limb for Simmons to see before he began reaching over to attach it to his person once more, "I cleaned it up as best I could so it should work fine, but there's probably going to be some pain due to your shoulder wound when it is attached. Sorry."
Simmons nodded his head in wordless understanding as he watched Grif work, the Faunus only pausing momentarily when the attachment caused a flare-up of temporary pain up and down Simmons' shoulder at the jostle and the redhead couldn't cover up the subsequent wince.
"Sorry." Grif said again and Simmons wasn't sure if he meant for the pain this time.
"It's okay." And Simmons wasn't talking about just the reattachment either as he flexed his hand to make sure that everything was back in order, "How'd you know what to do?"
There was a darkening on Grif's tan cheek then, a reddish hue filling in his paler and freckled one, "I asked Doctor Grey for pointers awhile back. For emergencies." He admitted.
"Really?" Simmons looked up at him in surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard about this.
Grif averted his gaze, scratching the freckled patch of skin just underneath his brown eye, "Yeah, well, I figured that if one of us was dumb enough to sacrifice portions of their body to save a teammate, someone beyond Sarge should know how to properly patch them up in case of an emergency."
Simmons felt his own face heat up at the admission, and he gripped the blankets pooled in his lap even tighter, "Thanks."
Grif shrugged as if it was no big deal, even though they both knew otherwise. A serious look crossed over his face then, "We've gotta move though, Simmons. The White Fang is still close by."
Simmons nodded in understanding, the heaviness still in the air. But despite that, he needed to know, "Is that what you've been doing then?" He asked tentatively, not sure how to add since you left, "Fighting the White Fang?"
It seemed like such a ludicrous thing to do on one's own, especially when spoken out loud. But how Grif had reacted to the news of the White Fang's return, and how he had stumbled upon them…
Grif grimaced as if this wasn't a conversation he necessarily wanted to have, which was fair since it wasn't on Simmons' list either, "Sort-of. I maybe joined up with them for a while there too." The heavyset man admitted.
"W—what?" Simmons exclaimed, not quite believing his ears.
Grif was so apathetic normally, it was hard to imagine him joining an extremist group like the White Fang. That would require him actually actively doing stuff, which was usually not in Grif's wheelhouse. Plus, the White Fang were kind of the bad guys, weren't they?
"Simmons." Grif grabbed his shoulders to center him, being extremely careful of his wounded one, "Never like that. Believe me. But their new leader, Genkins? I knew him from Menagerie, and the guy's bad news. So I…"
The pieces started falling into place then, "You quit so that it looked like you had a valid reason to join up with them?" Simmons asked, filling in the blanks.
A nod, "Yeah. I know it was a shitty thing for me to do."
Beyond shitty, but Simmons couldn't say much given his own stupid lack of action. He always froze up when it counted.
"But I needed it to be convincing." Grif smiled self-deprecatingly, "Besides, I've always been the hate glue for our little group, you know?"
That's not fucking true and I missed you were on the tip of Simmons' tongue, but he couldn't quite get them out. Instead…
"You're an idiot."
Grif blinked, "Come again?" and Simmons was torn between being glad that Donut wasn't here to wanting to punch Grif and fucking kiss him all at once.
"We…I definitely would have helped you if you'd just told us what you wanted to do." Simmons stated before he lost his nerve, swallowing thickly, "Grif, I…I don't think that at all about you. I'm so glad you're back and—!"
But one look at Grif's clueless and disbelieving face had Simmons thinking aw, fuck it. He leaned over the miniscule distance between them and pressed his lips against Grif's.
Grif didn't react. He only looked stunned by the action as Simmons pulled away regrettably. Still, he was glad that he had at least worked up some nerve this time, "It's not the same when you're gone." Simmons muttered lamely, averting his eyes, "You've helped me, so I want to help you too."
For a moment, there was nothing but that damned heavy silence again and Simmons was terrified that he had overstepped his bounds. He quickly looked away, an apology on his lips as the warmth from Grif's reluctantly faded.
"There was a kid with the White Fang." Grif spoke up suddenly.
Simmons' head snapped in his direction, "What?"
"A girl. Her name was Huggins." The chubby Faunus frowned in recollection, "I think I was starting to get through to her, convince her to leave, but then Genkins had her sent on a mission and no one knows what happened."
Which was when Grif had no longer been able to keep up his cover, Simmons guessed. He leaned over again and gripped Grif's hand reassuringly tight, "Then we'll find her." He stated determinedly, "Together."
And that was apparently that because Grif was looking at him with that same strange, yearning expression as he had before when neither of them had felt comfortable acknowledging it, and then he was leaning over and…
The kiss they shared this time was both hungry and soothing. Simmons was glad he was sitting as Grif's arms wrapped around him and he did the same (pain be damned!) because his whole body felt energized and weak all at once and shit was this better than that time with the alcohol and—!
The tent flap opened. As they reluctantly pulled away from one another to perhaps try and counter a White Fang assault, Caboose's blond head of hair poked in instead.
"Hello!" Caboose greeted the two blushing males exuberantly and apparently oblivious to what he had just stumbled onto, "Simmons, that was a good game of Hide and Seek, and look! You found Grif too! Yay!" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "He is so very good at hiding."
There was movement from behind Caboose as Lopez's mechanical voice chimed in as well.
"Por favor, dime que al menos están completamente vestidos." {"Please tell me they are at least fully clothed still."}
The house on the outskirts of Chorus that had become a home of sorts for the Reds and Blues for when they were not out on missions was filled with a cacophony of the usual loud exclamations as Caboose and Lopez relayed what had happened.
Grif had wanted to hold back for just a moment more, Simmons remaining at his side like he had all the way back there. In any second, they both knew that Kai would race out and demand to know where Grif had been and want a hug. Afterwards, the fight against the White Fang and the search for the missing Huggins could begin in earnest.
"Nervous?" Simmons asked Grif, noticing the other man fidgeting uncharacteristically.
"Just wanting to get this over with, I guess." Grif frowned, "I have a lot to apologize for."
As did Simmons, but the cyborg figured staying as close by Grif from here on out as he could was a great place to start, "Maybe a little, but mostly everyone will just be glad to see you." …And Simmons had no doubt that they would all want to help Grif too.
Grif bumped his shoulder against his, and Simmons leaned into the touch, "Hey," Grif said suddenly, a contemplative look on his face, "Do you ever wonder why we're here?"
This time, Simmons knew exactly what his answer would be and he wasn't afraid to say it out loud, "No." He replied honestly, linking his hand with Grif's, "Not anymore."
Grif turned his gaze to Simmons, both smiling at one another just as the door slammed open. Neither let go of the other's hand as Kaikaina Grif and the rest of their eclectic friends rushed over towards them.
Author's Notes: …So this happened. XD I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this story, as my writing style with it was a bit experimental and I felt like I rushed parts even as it turned into one of my lengthier one shots, but I hope it was an enjoyable AU to read all the same. If you'd like, think of it as a celebration of RWBY Volume 6 being posted at the end of October. :)
I apologize for how long it has taken for me to post anything story-wise as well. Life has been quite hectic for me in terms of work, family visits, and taking on a new job as well, so I hope this story being a bit longer makes up for that slightly! Next up will be updates to another WIP and I *may* have something in mind for NaNoWriMo too, but I'm on the fence with that currently given all my time commitments right now. I might just start something new then still though, who knows? :D
Despite my misgivings on how this story came together, I rather liked writing Grif and Simmons, as well as mentioning the other characters, all having their own stories and relationship developments amidst the RWBY world backdrop. Maybe someday I'll revisit this AU again to at least explain what happened to poor Huggins, and give Grif and Simmons some more chances to bond, of course! :D
I'm so sorry this wasn't exactly the story you probably envisioned for the prompt, blankslate101, but I sincerely hope you enjoyed it none the less! Thank you so much for all of the fun talks and inspiring ideas. Keep being your awesome, wonderful self! :D
As always, thank you for reading! :)