Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Thirteen:

David Washington continued to stand between Lavernius Tucker and his two former Freelancer teammates, as if hoping to shield the younger man should it turn out they were up to something. "What, exactly, are you doing here?" He demanded, even surprising himself with the icy edge that had creeped into his voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, the blond could see Tucker stiffen slightly, confusedly caught off-guard by Washington's tone as well. Washington tried to ignore the Beast Folk for the moment, knowing he couldn't let his guard down around the two females in front of him.

C.T. was only momentarily taken aback by Washington's threatening question, a look of infuriating understanding crossing over her features mere seconds later. She remained silent, no doubt still assessing the situation in her mind. South, however, seemed to be getting more amused by her former teammate's antics by the second.

"Oh relax, Wash." South told him with a smirk on her face, "If we were here to actually attack, you know there's nothing you could do to stop us." She raised an eyebrow, "Or do you not remember every training session ever?"

Washington felt rather than saw Tucker's intake of breath, could sense the teal-wearing man's questioning dark eyes on his back. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to move the conversation along.

The Seas huffed in annoyance at South's reminder of his rookie days, choosing instead to focus his next line of questioning at his childhood friend, "What is going on here, C.T.?" He questioned, eyes narrowing, "Is the Insurrection involved or not?"

South glanced between the two in surprised confusion then, no doubt having suspected that the "naïve rookie" Washington hadn't been aware of C.T.'s activities since Freelancer's demise. Tucker had stilled and was listening intently now too, obviously having picked up on the larger picture that was forming thanks to Washington's questioning.

If C.T. herself was surprised by Washington's directness, she didn't show it. Instead, brown eyes focused on him as she nodded her head in slight confirmation, "Yes, there is an alliance between them and Charon now."

Washington frowned at her answer. From behind, he could hear Tucker swear "Fuck!" under his breath. The Seas couldn't help but note that the brunette wasn't including herself in her explanation, as if her actions differed from that of the Insurrection.

The reason as to why that was became apparent with C.T.'s next words, as she took a tentative step forwards. She didn't react when Washington stepped back. "But believe me, Wash, I am trying to fix things." She told him emphatically, "South and maybe even Florida are also trying to do the same."

South scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "Well, I can't say what that walking blue question mark is up too. But, I'm here for that shit, I guess. At least until something better pops up."

C.T. ignored South's remark, eyes still focused on Washington, "I just need to get to the prisoners, and the best timing for that will be during the tournament." She glanced at Tucker before he could even open his mouth, "I know that the Guild has a similar idea, so I think it would be in all of our best interests to work together."

"Well, shit. Can't exactly argue with that logic." Tucker muttered behind him, and Washington couldn't really logically disagree even though he wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there.

Going at a mission like this with more allies on hand was a sound strategy, especially ones with a clear door to the "inside," so to speak. But still, that didn't mean that he had to like it. Washington finally nodded his head in reluctant agreement, and C.T.'s expression softened into a relieved one.

"Well, I guess that takes care of that?" South remarked, turning so that she was calling over her orchid-armored shoulder when she spoke next, "Guess I'll be seeing you at the tournament, assholes. You better be ready."

Then she walked off as C.T. gave a slight uneasy smile and a wave before following after her. That just left Tucker and Washington standing in uncomfortable silence. Washington's mind was still trying to process what exactly had occurred, until Tucker decided to break it.

"What the fuck was that about?" Tucker finally exploded, "Were those two chicks friends of yours or what? Because they were hot in a really intimidating-as-fuck way."

Washington sighed, "They were. Once." He shook his head, "Now, I don't know what to call them. Also, I wouldn't let either of them hear you say that. Ever."

Tucker squinted his eyes in the direction that the two women had wandered off towards, "So, they're kind of like how you view Carolina and the other guys at the Guild?" He questioned, a thoughtful frown on his features.

"With those two? It's probably even more complicated than that, Tucker." The former Freelancer told him at length.

Tucker rolled his eyes, "Well, yeah. I got that when you mentioned the fucking Insurrection. Now we have to deal with those assholes on top of everything else? Bullshit, dude!"

Washington couldn't keep his shoulders from slumping a bit at Tucker's comment. To his surprise, Tucker reached over and patted his right shoulder sympathetically, "Sorry that you keep having to deal with this shit, man."

Washington inhaled sharply, surprised at how much the simple gesture, one that the dark-skinned man probably hadn't put more than two seconds of thought into, meant to him just then, "It…it can't be helped."

Tucker frowned once more, but nodded his head in understanding all the same, "Think we can trust them?" He finally asked.

Washington answered truthfully, "I can't say for certain. We'll just have to get through this on our side, regardless."

"Fuck yeah! That's the spirit, Washington!" Tucker agreed wholeheartedly, a grin suffusing his features.

Washington couldn't help but smile back, "We probably should head to the inn now."

Tucker's face fell at the reminder, "Ugh, dude, don't remind me. We totally missed the room assignments."

Washington raised an eyebrow, "And that's an issue because…?"

Tucker looked at the Seas as though he were an idiot, "Because Grif is an asshole when it comes to revenge? Odds are good we'll be in a room with one bed."

"Oh." Washington felt his face heat up, "I—I see!"

Tucker let out a long suffering sigh, "Don't worry, dude, if that happens I'll just sleep on the floor or some shit."

"You don't have to…" Washington began, though he couldn't help but trail off when he realized how that sounded.

Both men glanced away from one another awkwardly then, red-faced. All things considered, a part of Washington wouldn't really have minded sharing a bed with Tucker at all. It was probably best for the blond not to focus on why that was right now though.

"…That's about everything." Antoine Bitters finished his explanation, looking around the room carefully. The hardened expression on his face dared anyone to say something negative regarding what he had just told them as he eyed the Guild traveling party currently in a shitty Rat's Nest inn.

The group had moved to the largest room they were staying at so that everybody could fit. It also allowed them to get away from any prying eyes and listening ears. Silence filled the inn room as everyone in the Guild's party processed what the Charon guard had just told them.

Dexter Grif frowned from his spot on one of the beds beside Richard "Dick" Simmons, Franklin Delano Donut, Frank "Doc" DuFresne, and John Elizabeth Andersmith. There was no way that the Orc could deny Charon's involvement in the kidnappings anymore, especially since he knew Bitters well enough to trust that the kid was telling the truth.

Knowing that he had once worked for the very same assholes who had now kidnapped his little sister pissed Grif off to no end. He could sense Simmons' worried glances his way. The chubby man tried his hardest to school his expressions and feelings into more neutral ones so as to not make the nerd anymore anxious than he no doubt already was. Not that it took much to make the kiss-ass a ball of nerves.

Andersmith spoke up first, "So, the people who were kidnapped are safe?" No doubt the dark-haired man was thinking of his ward, Katie Jensen.

Bitters nodded, "They're being held for transfer to somewhere else immediately after the tournament though." He replied, a look of resignation on his face.

"Hmm." Sarge said, looking surprisingly thoughtful just then as he turned towards Bitters, "Any idea where to?"

The young human with multi-colored hair smiled humorlessly, "I'm not high enough on the payroll to be told that sort of thing."

"Así que nuestra mejor opción para liberarlos es en algún momento durante el torneo." {"So our best bet to free them is at some point during the tournament."}

Donut shook his head at whatever it was he thought the artificially constructed man had just said, "No, Lopez. I think that means that the tournament is our best bet for gaining some head."

"...¿Por qué me molesto?" {"…Why do I even bother?"}

As Sheila patted Lopez's shoulder consolingly, Bitters nodded his head in agreement to Donut's assessment, "That's what I figured too. Everyone's attention will be focused on it." He told them.

"But why, exactly, do you want to help break them out in the first place?" Leonard Church demanded from his spot next to Michael J. Caboose on the floor, "No offense, but it seems like a dumb-as-fuck career move."

"It's a monumentally stupid one." Bitters agreed, frowning, "But I guess you could say I've been thinking about a fucking career change."

Grif couldn't blame Bitters for that. Having known the kid for a while, he knew the young man wasn't the type to be involved in shit like kidnapping.

"Well, thanks to your information we'll know exactly where to look for them." Doc stated happily, "That is definitely good news!"

Caboose nodded his head in earnest agreement, "Yes, it will be like hide and seek! But, with clues! The best way to play ever!"

Bitters smiled ruefully, "Though the truth is, by coming here, I probably fucked up being there to help you guys any further."

"What do you mean?" Grif asked, a note of disappointment in his voice. After all, it would be advantageous to have someone working with them on the inside of the fortress. Any less work on their end was a win in the Orc's mind.

Bitters frowned, "I came here when I saw you, after I had been ordered to go on a "loyalty" run." He explained.

Understanding slowly seeped into the room. "They wanted you to bring back another Magic User." Doctor Emily Grey noted, her usually cheerful voice surprisingly subdued.

The man with multi-colored hair nodded angrily, "Since I didn't, that means I'm out of the fucking club."

From the frown on his face and his tone of voice, Bitters didn't seem too happy at the prospect of missing out on further helping the kidnapped Magic Users. In a way, Grif could understand. If he was close to truly helping Kai, but was suddenly unable to do more? Well, that would fucking suck.

"Not necessarily, son." Sarge spoke up then, "In fact, we could use your "loyalty" run to our advantage."

Church raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

The older man smirked, "We plant some of our own Magic Users in the prison. Help coordinate the breakout from the inside."

Grif couldn't help but whistle appreciatively, "Not a bad strategy, Sarge."

The red-wearing man harrumphed, "Just because you don't listen, numbnuts, doesn't mean I don't have good ideas from time to time."

Charles Palomo and Volleyball looked over at one another before nodding their heads in silent agreement. "Sir?" Volleyball stated, lifting up her hand, "We'd like to volunteer for the mission, if that's all right."

"Yeah!" Palomo chimed in, "It'll be fun!"

Volleyball shot him a pointed look, shaking her blond head in exasperation.

"Are you sure, you two?" Sarge asked, "This won't be a walk in the park."

Palomo grinned, "Oh, we're sure! Leave it to us!"

"We fit closer to the profiles for many of the people who have been abducted already, so we wouldn't raise too many suspicions." The blonde reasoned, although she didn't try to match Palomo's joyous expression.

Sarge nodded his gray-haired head, a grim expression on his features, "That is true. Just be careful, all right?"

The two Guild trainees saluted, "Of course we will, sir!" Volleyball and Palomo said at the same time, both trying to reassure the others but failing miserably.

It wasn't long following that exchange that Bitters, Palomo, and Volleyball left the inn. After all, it wouldn't do for the plan to have Bitters' Charon cohorts get suspicious because of a prolonged absence.

With their plans now solidly set in motion, everyone in the traveling party began drifting off to rest and prepare for tomorrow. Grif was definitely grateful for that, especially since he felt like he could really use a stiff drink.

After perusing the items in his satchel for what was probably the eleventh time since the meeting with Bitters had ended, Simmons tossed the pack aside and looked around the empty inn room.

Grif had opted to go back downstairs to the inn's tavern. The Orc hadn't returned in quite some time, a fact that was starting to make the redhead even more nervous than he already was. Simmons sighed, deciding it was time to go and find his friend.

"They're going to be fine, Washington. Trust me." He overheard Tucker's voice in the hallway as he opened the door to his and Grif's shared room, "They're well-trained and more than capable of taking care of themselves."

The Beast Folk had his back to Simmons, so the Magic User saw Tucker's tail swishing back and forth as he spoke. He also saw the gray and yellow-tinged Seas that Tucker was speaking to frown, "But they are still just kids." Washington muttered, clearly perturbed by the situation at hand.

Ah, so it looked like Tucker and Washington had learned from some of the others what had happened with Volleyball and Palomo then. Simmons wasn't sure that he wanted to interrupt their debate, so he tried exiting and closing the door to the room as quietly as he could.

Unfortunately, the soft thud was still loud enough to catch both men's attention, and Simmons' face flushed apologetically at having interrupted their conversation.

"Can't sleep, Simmons?" Washington inquired politely enough, both him and Tucker seeming oddly relieved at the momentary interruption.

"Um, something like that." Simmons scratched the back of his head nervously, "Have either of you seen Grif?"

At the mention of the Orc's name, both men glanced at the door they were standing next to at the exact same time. Simmons swore that they were both blushing for some reason.

"Your boyfriend's down at the bar, no doubt laughing at our expense." Tucker informed the human and, while that comment made Simmons rather curious, he had a sneaking suspicion that neither the feline Beast Folk nor the Seas would elaborate any further as they turned to regard the offending door once more.

So, Simmons promptly thanked them for the information and headed down the inn's stairs towards its eatery. Sure enough, there was Grif. The orange-armored man was seated by himself at a table surrounded by empty bottles of ale. He looked up at Simmons hovering over him, raising his half-empty glass in a mock sort of salute.

"Hey, Simmons," Grif stated, his voice only somewhat slurred, "Wanna drink?"

Simmons couldn't help the twitch he felt in his eyebrow just then as he sat down across from the Orc, a frown on his face, "Isn't this a really bad time to be getting drunk?"

Grif looked amused at Simmons' lecture, "This is really only enough to get me slightly buzzed." He informed the redhead matter-of-factly.

Simmons' frown deepened as his green eyes glanced over the many empty bottles. Sure, he had forgotten that Orc physiology was different from that of a human's. But, still…

"Besides," Grif continued before Simmons could protest further, "Orcs don't get hangovers, so I'll still be all set for tomorrow."

Simmons wasn't sure what exactly to say to that either. He wasn't a fan of their plan at all, truth be told. The whole thing was stressing him out even more than usual.

"I needed a few drinks, after what's happened." Grif mumbled into his glass a few minutes later, as if wanting to fill the silence that had descended upon them.

Suddenly, he was hit by a foreign feeling of regret and Simmons understood. He shifted in his seat to get the Orc's undivided attention, "What's happened isn't something you could have known about, Grif."

Grif harrumphed, "You weren't the one willing to turn a blind eye just because you needed coin."

Simmons shook his head, "No, but your heart was in the right place all the same. You were just trying to look out for your sister."

The chubby man smiled rather self-deprecatingly, "And look at what good that did."

"We're going to get her back, and you'll be helping that Bitters kid make amends too." Simmons tried reassuring him.

"…Maybe." Grif still looked rather doubtful, but he apparently wasn't going to elaborate any further.

Simmons sighed and stood up, gripping onto Grif's shoulder as he did so, "At any rate, I think it's time you got some rest. For tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah…" Grif stood up from the table rather shakily, leaning into Simmons' touch as he did so.

For a moment, they both stood there, immobile. Grif's eyes had landed on Simmons' hand on his shoulder. With an unreadable expression on his face, the Orc suddenly reached up with his own hand to gently pry Simmons' off only to hold the appendage in the space between them.

"Hey, Simmons?" Grif muttered seriously, dark eyes still focused on their entwined hands.

"Y—yeah?" Simmons' voice barely came out a squeak, the redhead suddenly grateful that Grif was paying attention to their hands and not noticing how red-faced the maroon-wearing man had gotten.

Grif squeezed Simmons' fingers gently, "I'm glad you're here." He murmured before finally letting his hand go.

"M—me too, Grif." Simmons' face was practically on fire as they made their way towards the stairs.

When they got to the upper level, Simmons found that Tucker and Washington were no longer standing in the hallway. However, Sarge and Doctor Grey were. The two were giggling conspiratorially like a couple of teenagers, arms wrapped tightly around the other as they leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching.

Grif and Simmons both looked at one another and made a hasty retreat to their room before things got too hot and heavy in the hallway. Their eyes could only take so much torture in one day.

Simmons was back in Valhalla, once again showing Grif one of his favorite spots in the city. It was the park grounds along a crystal-blue lake. A waterfall even farther away was casting a reflected rainbow on the clear, liquid surface.

When Simmons wasn't holed up on the Magic Division grounds and when he wanted to leave the harassing guards behind, if only for a minute or two, he'd sneak away to here. …Fuck, he had even done it when he had just needed to get away from home for a while as a small boy. When his mother's sad looks and his father's disapproving stares became too much to bear.

No one was around, which seemed a bit odd to Simmons considering how crowded most areas of the city were, but he preferred it that way. No one was staring at Grif because he was an Orc, and the redhead didn't have to worry about one of the guards looking for him right then and there.

It was only the two of them, and everything just felt…right.

Simmons was pointing excitedly to the waterfall and rambling on about its history, a bright smile splitting his face, when he turned his head again slightly and caught Grif's eye.

The Orc was smiling back at him without his usual teasing smirk. There was an oddly intense look darkening his features as he regarded Simmons' face.

Whatever Simmons had been thinking of saying next died on his lips as Grif leaned over and suddenly his chapped ones were on his own. The kiss was tentative at first. Gentle. But, then it became rough and more insistent.

Grif's hands gripped onto Simmons' waist as the redhead kissed him just as desperately back. He guided Simmons to the lush grass below, fingers moving playfully under Simmons' shirt as he did so.

Simmons gasped as Grif moved his head slightly, taking special care to kiss the sides of the human's face and even his scarred ears. Grif pulled away to stare down at the other man with a look of sheer longing that took Simmons' breath away.

"Simmons."

Suddenly, Grif was placing kisses down his throat, hands fumbling with the belt around Simmons' waist…

Simmons woke up with a gasp and a start, his green eyes flaring open before struggling to see anything in the darkness that enveloped him.

He was back in the inn at Rat's Nest, lying down on his bed. Grif was sleeping on his own just a few meters away. Simmons watched the rise and fall of the Orc's chest, his heated face readily cooling in the night air.

It had just been a dream. It didn't mean anything. But, as Simmons turned around to lie back down on his side, he heard it.

A moan, loud and deep, coming from Grif's bed. The redhead paused. Surely it was a coincidence. There was no fucking way…

"Simmons." Grif's voice was breathy, urgent.

The lanky man's face became about as hot as the sun just then. Had he and Grif been dreaming the same thing? Fuck. Stupid Linking Magic! Who…who had dreamed it first?

Simmons shook his head and tried to stop his heart from pounding right out of his chest. What he should be wondering was how he would ever be able to face Grif again. He prayed that the upcoming mission tomorrow would hopefully provide a bit of a distraction, if nothing else.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the fact that I cannot write steamier scenes to save my life. XD Sorry about that! It looks like things are starting to pick up in more ways than one, and the "tournament" will officially get underway in the next chapter! :)

Thank you to everyone who has been reading the story so far! :D