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 Three:
Richard "Dick" Simmons carefully picked his way through the dirt and cobble-lined streets of the fort town known as Iris. He kept his green eyes downcast, mostly to avoid the hostile, curious, or outright indifferent stares of the Orc soldiers and residents he met. The iciness in some of their regards reminded him far too much of the horrific vision he had seen earlier, and he tried his hardest to quell the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him at the memory.
Every few seconds, his hands went to the glowing red Relic embedded on the collar that Felix had chokingly put on him upon their return to Iris, stating with a laugh how every "proper pet" needed one.
Simmons was still feeling pretty exhausted and drained from that last Remnant healing, but he had no desire to sleep in the room that he had been assigned to since he was unsure of if he'd be trapped in there. He supposed with the addition of the ancient Relic device to his person and being tucked in the middle of utterly unfamiliar territory had one surprising advantage as it gave him the illusion of temporary freedom, if nothing else.
The redheaded human was allowed to explore Iris because there were always soldiers monitoring his every move, and the citizenry itself seemed to be doing much the same. Not to mention that the collared Relic device that Felix had put on him evidently kept him on a "leash." Simmons still wasn't sure what it actually did, but he was told to never try to remove it or go outside the town's walls without Felix or Locus. Knowing Felix's penchant for sadism, he was terrified to find out just what this new safeguard was capable of.
Besides, horribly depressing and humiliating situation aside, this was his first opportunity in a long while to explore a town, even if the setting wasn't the friendliest. Simmons didn't want that to go to waste should his captors suddenly change their minds.
Not to mention, doing so was especially better than focusing on the fact that Grif was here too and how apparently both of them were at a complete loss as to how to act around one another. Simmons sighed, his heart still feeling both immensely empty and like it was constantly being shredded to bits when he thought of the heavyset Orc.
As he walked, Simmons found himself drawn to the various marketplaces and other densely populated areas of Iris despite his still-present social anxiety and the less-than-warm greetings he received. Most likely it was largely due to the measure of normalcy he witnessed, the scenery allowing him to forget his status as a prisoner as he watched Orcs going about their business. It was eerily similar to his time as a ward of the Magic Division back in Valhalla. Simmons found himself somewhat reminded of his friends and family probably currently in Armonia, and he constantly had to squash down his feelings of missing them. Had Grif even seen them, or…?
After who knew how much time had passed, Simmons reluctantly figured that he should head back to the fort in the center of town before Felix changed his mind and forced his return. He had just slipped through the gates and was looking up with growing trepidation at the massive facility's main entrance looming above him when he heard muffled voices discussing something from a side-building located just a few meters away.
Soft light shone through a tiny slit in the entryway indicating the door was open, as if someone had hastily shut it behind them and didn't realize that it had sprung open slightly. Curiosity and hesitation still at entering the main building caused his feet to move before he even fully registered it.
"And I don't care how often you repeat it, that idea is still bad no matter how you view it."
That ranting voice the maroon-wearing Magic User recognized as belonging to Temple, the cyan-armored Orc from the "Throw Away" unit he had encountered before.
Grif's unit, Simmons thought with a sudden nervous lurch of his stomach, though the orange-armored Orc didn't appear to currently be among the various shades of colored armor in the room. Whether or not he was glad or disappointed, he couldn't say. It was probably a mix of both.
The man in aqua armor, not unlike his friend Tucker's teal shade of clothing, simply shrugged in response, "That's, like, just your opinion, dude." He stated indifferently.
"No, it's fact. Anyone with half a brain would tell you that." Temple's reply was terse, and he crossed his arms over his chest, tone indicating that his say was final.
"All I'm saying…"
There was a collective groan from the others huddled in the tight, less-than-stellar-hygienic room conditions. Judging by the dirtied bandages covering the ground, the Blues and Reds as he had also heard them called mockingly on occasion by others were trying to heal their various cuts and bruises without relying on potions. Maybe their status made it hard to acquire them? Either way, they weren't doing the best job of it.
"Hello!" A blue-helmed face suddenly appeared in Simmons' own as the door was pulled open from the other side before he could react, a cheerful Orc greeting him.
"Er, hi?" Simmons responded sheepishly, as all conversation in the room came to a grinding halt at his presence being known.
"You should not just stand there being silly!" The younger Orc declared in a friendly tone, grabbing Simmons' hand and pulling him inside before he could protest, "Come in! My name is Loco, and these are my special friends."
"Dude, I told you not to say weird shit like that." The aqua-wearing male sighed in exasperation.
"Don't mind Buckey, Loco!" The pink-armored Orc hobbled over to pat Loco on the shoulder, "I think it's sweet!"
"Of course you would, Cronut." Buckey huffed, "You say even weirder shit all the time."
"How rude! I know perfectly well when to stuff my hole closed!" Cronut let out an indignant huff, and Simmons wondered briefly if Donut was okay back in the Unsc.
"He does have a surprising amount of discretion." A gruff voice came from an older Orc in red that totally had Simmons thinking of Sarge.
"Thanks, Surge! Your secret love of musicals will always be safe with me!" Cronut assured the older man in a very loud stage whisper.
"Dang-nab-it, Cronut!"
"Tutti dicono cose strane tutto il tempo." {"All of you say weird stuff all the time."}
"See? Even Lorenzo thinks so!" Cronut stated proudly, and Simmons saw the familiar red eyes of an artificial humanoid just like Lopez from the figure in question, who now merely sighed and hung his head in exasperation.
As he was distracted by the antics going on around him, Simmons hadn't realized that Temple had stalked over to where he and Loco were standing until the dark-haired Orc glowered down at him, causing Simmons to gulp.
"What," the cyan-wearing soldier got out with barely restrained hostility, "Is the Unsc's pet doing here?"
His eyes zeroed in on the Relic collar as he spoke, and Simmons instinctively gripped the rather warm crystalline-like object at the center of his throat to block it from sight, "I…I'm sorry!" He managed to hurriedly squeak out, "I—I didn't mean to spy."
"Huh." Surge snorted disbelievingly, "That's exactly what a spy would say!"
"Excellent point, sir!" The glasses-wearing Orc in maroon spoke up as he stepped next to the older Orc and Temple, and Simmons wondered what it was about the guy's voice that grated on his nerves.
"Surge, Gene. Both of you. Shut. Up." Temple ground out, still glaring distrustfully at Simmons.
Simmons squirmed uncomfortably as Loco came to his defense, "Oh, I bet he just wants to be friends but is too shy." He informed them, lowering his voice to a whisper as he added, "It happens."
"Loco, did we ask for a stupid opinion?" Temple questioned.
"Luckily, no one gave one!"
Loco's cheerfulness even in the wake of Temple's ire and the building unease in the space finally had Simmons' courage raised up enough to speak, "I—I'm really sorry." He stated again, glancing at their obvious wounds, "But I can help!"
"How?" Temple asked, looking beyond skeptical.
Without another word, Simmons reluctantly stepped away from the friendly and surprisingly supportive presence of Loco. He walked over to Buckey, having noticed among his wounds in particular a rather nasty forehead gash. The redhead took a deep breath and extended his Healing Aura, the injuries on the other man mending themselves in just a few minutes.
"Whoa." Buckey breathed out as he looked down at his clear, healed arms again and tried feeling for the nonexistent forehead cut.
"Oh, oh!" Cronut was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet rather excitedly then, "Do me! Do me!"
"That's what she said last night." Buckey sneered, "Boom-chicka-wah-wah!"
Gene watched the human with newfound curiosity, "So, you're a healer?" He asked.
Simmons nodded as everyone seemed to relax in his presence marginally at this new bit of information, gathering around him to benefit from his aura while Temple shot him an assessing look. It would no doubt tire him out even more to heal even the superficial wounds of everyone here, but at least it was something he chose to do.
"Our unit is called "Throw Away" because all of us are considered defective in proper Orcish circles." Temple explained to him several minutes later as Simmons finished up healing Surge who had stubbornly insisted on being last, "As such, we were all put in a squad that no one will give a fuck about once we're gone."
Though Temple had warmed up to Simmons in light of the human draining himself to help them out, there was an understandable note of bitterness to his tone when he talked about their position in Orc society. Simmons really couldn't blame Temple, thinking back to how little people like his father and uncle had even viewed him.
"That's…" Simmons frowned, unsure of how to respond so that the sentence went unfinished.
Buckey scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, "It's beyond fucked up, is what it is."
…Again, he couldn't really argue.
Surge flexed his arms experimentally, "I do believe that was the last one." He stated satisfactorily as he inclined his head a fraction in Simmons' direction in way of thanks.
"Um," Simmons looked around the room again as if hoping a certain someone decked out in orange might suddenly appear, "Isn't…wasn't there another of you be—before?"
If Grif had been hurt and he just hadn't realized it because the dumbass had been blocking their bond, then…!
"Oh. You mean him." Gene sniffed the air dismissively, and Simmons fought the sudden urge to kick him.
"Grif's not here at the moment." Temple told him, then quickly stated, "Not to worry, he's healthy enough that they put him on guard duty."
Simmons tried not to appear too disappointed or worried by the news. He wasn't really sure if letting these guys find out that he and Grif knew each other yet was a smart idea, so he decided not to press the matter anymore even though he desperately wanted to know what Grif had been doing here in Iris.
Temple was once again regarding the redhead with a rather assessing look, "Though it doesn't seem like your situation is any less shitty than ours." He observed, his eyes darkening, "It appears the Unsc is governed by a bunch of uncaring assholes too."
Simmons found it hard to really argue with Temple's point there, and the odd looks of genuine sympathy he appeared to be receiving from this colorful bunch of Orcs was touching enough that he had to hastily wipe his eyes to stop any telltale tears from appearing.
"At any rate, thanks for helping us out." Temple stood up and offered his hand to Simmons with a self-deprecating smile, "Us screw-ups should stick together, huh?"
Simmons rose from his crouched position, feeling very light-headed as he did so on account of overexerting his Healing Aura after having healed the Remnant.
Temple's grip on Simmons' arm tightened as the human stumbled, though he somehow managed to remain upright, "You okay?"
"He will be fine." A gruff, stoic voice spoke up from the now open doorway before the human could respond, "He simply requires rest."
Simmons turned, the blood turning to ice in his veins as he saw Locus standing there. His intimidating presence made the entire room fall silent once more. Shakily, Simmons nodded his head in agreement to what the mercenary had deduced. Without another word and with only two strides into the space, Locus had gripped Simmons' other arm and was pulling him away from the now tersely silent "Throw Aways."
They were walking through the winding corridors of the main building before Simmons' exhausted brain could really process what was happening. Locus didn't even slow his gait any as he turned his head slightly to regard the trembling human, "You should not be overextending yourself." He observed without preamble.
Simmons merely nodded mutely, rather weak still and altogether terrified to be in the behemoth's presence.
Thankfully, Locus remained resolutely silent for the rest of the way to Simmons' assigned room, and if he noticed Simmons' surprised sharp intake of breath at Grif of all people apparently being on guard duty there, he deemed it an inconsequential reaction.
Grif's eyes fell squarely on Simmons then as the redhead stood transfixed before the dark-haired Orc shrugged at both of them as if this whole routine was no big deal. Simmons swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, knowing it was best for the moment to also do the same. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from Grif as Locus opened his door and pushed him inside the sparsely decorated space.
"Get some rest. Now." Locus told him as he heavily shut the door and effectively blocked the Orc from Simmons' longing sight.
Simmons frowned at the door that now kept Grif from him, his nerves already working themselves up into a frenzy at what else was going to happen on this excursion.
Dexter Grif, meanwhile, watched the exchange between Locus and Simmons take place out of the corner of his eye, continuing the constant strain of ongoing panic he felt ever since the incident at the ruins.
Not only was Simmons fucking here, but he had gone and stupidly touched the poor nerd without having thought of the consequences because Simmons was fucking there and right in front of him, and there were so many things he wanted to say and do…
Now the Linking Magic was positively thrumming through his veins. It was proving a losing battle to try to ignore and somehow block their connection, but letting it slip that they knew one another in any way, shape, or form was a definite no-no right now.
A very large part of Grif simply wanted to storm through the rather pitiful wooden door that separated them now, to just get Simmons and fucking run. But he knew thanks to annoying, pain-in-the-ass logic that there was probably no way to easily escape a heavily fortified Orcish town like Iris. No doubt Charon had supplied their own safety measures too if they felt confident enough to allow Simmons temporary movement within Iris itself. He hadn't seen that weird, blood-red Relic collar on Simmons before now that he thought about it.
Not to mention there was always the very real possibility that Simmons might understandably not even want to talk to Grif again due to how he had been absolute garbage when he had up and left before.
He frowned, not for the first time and probably not the last, wondering just when it was that things had gotten so horribly complicated and fucked, though deep down inside he was well-aware of the answer. It had been from the very moment that he had admitted to himself that he had inexplicably fallen for the scrawny human with red hair and scarred-up ears.
Grif gripped his hands tighter around his weapon, trying to center and ground his swirling thoughts.
"You."
The orange-armored Orc was startled out of his mulling contemplations by the intimidating-as-all-fuck Locus towering over him. Shit, man, for a human he was tall. Grif nearly jumped back in shock. If it weren't for the embedded runes in his staff, no doubt his magic ability would have caused it to explode into tiny splinters due to his surprise just then.
Locus didn't seem to care that he had just scared the shit out of him, motioning instead to the shut door to Simmons' room with a slight tilt of his scarred head, "Keep an eye on things here."
Grif nodded shakily, his throat suddenly dry.
Locus paused before turning fully to leave, regarding Grif peculiarly for a second as the Orc felt his nerves getting the better of him under the intense glare, "Do I know you?" He asked suddenly, his tone almost accusatory.
Grif was very glad that he had been dressed differently back at Rat's Nest, and that Locus had been more or less preoccupied with fighting Tucker back then. He quickly shook his head, hoping that the mercenary would buy it.
He was beyond terrified that Locus might say something else as he continued scrutinizing him with narrowed, dark eyes. But, to his great relief, the man in steel and green promptly walked off without saying another word.
Grif let out a relieved sigh when he was positive that Locus was out of earshot and leaned his back against the wall right near Simmons' room, both excited and anxious at getting to be so close to the redhead.
For the first time in a rather long while there was a certain lightness to David Washington's step as he traversed the streets of Armonia. He was making his way to Guild Headquarters, mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. Caboose's earlier joyful demeanor as he had relayed his news to Washington was apparently quite infectious.
"Wash!" A familiar voice called out from a nearby side-street, "Hey, Wash!"
Tucker was hurrying over to join him in his trek, his own grin as blindingly bright as the sun. Seeing it made Wash's mood feel even lighter somehow, "Tucker." He nodded his head in the teal-wearing Beast Folk's direction, "Where's Junior?"
"Apparently learning how to kick asses and take names with his Aunt Tex." Tucker puffed out his chest proudly, "Not that he needs much help in that department with me as his dad and all!"
"Uh-huh." Washington wasn't so convinced of that just yet (with time most definitely, but for the moment…), but he was once again amazed by how much time so many of the other Guild members devoted to helping Tucker watch out for his son.
"What's up with you?" Tucker was leaning into Washington's personal space about a second later, causing Washington to start slightly at having not noticed before but with great effort he avoided reaching for one of his knives on reflex, "I haven't seen you look this happy in…" Tucker scrunched his face up in thought, "Maybe forever."
Washington decided to resist the urge to protest since, okay, it probably had been awhile. Instead, he recalled his earlier bit of good news, "Caboose was telling me that he just got another message from his sister." He told the younger man.
Understanding dawned on Tucker's face as he knew that Washington was rather good friends with Four Seven Niner from way back before his Guild days, "I take it she's doing all right?" He asked.
"Better than that, by all accounts." Washington told him, "Evidently having Filss as her new co-pilot has done wonders for her, and vice-versa." He smiled faintly, "Even if it makes Unsc airship runs more difficult."
It was a bit of good news in a turbulent time. Washington wished there could be more of it. He was happy for the Dwarven pilot: like he and the others affected by Project Freelancer, she had been through a hell of a lot even before the Charon kidnapping incident. It made him oddly hopeful in a way that he wasn't quite sure how to put into words to know that she was doing better.
"I bet that news made both Caboose and Sheila really happy too." Tucker noted with a far too knowing twinkle in his brown eyes.
All of the siblings had been trying to remain in near daily communication with one another when they could, following the forced separations they had endured earlier.
Washington confirmed this with a nod of his head, "Their good moods have even started rubbing off on Carolina and Church too, especially Caboose's."
The two Church siblings had always had a close bond with Caboose ever since they had all apparently joined the Guild at roughly the same time. Caboose had been trying to do his utmost to cheer them up ever since they had lost contact with Donut and their cousin.
A sad, pained sort-of silence settled over the pair as they continued to walk. Washington glanced worriedly over at Tucker, knowing he was pretty upset by recent events too.
At length, Tucker sighed, 'Yeah, those two have had it rough since Simmons left." He said regretfully, a contemplative frown settling over his features, "Kai too."
"Tucker…" Washington began, but then he hesitated, unsure of what he could say even as he desperately wanted to somehow make things better.
"I'm just glad they've got Tex, York, and Volleyball looking out for them." Tucker forced a smile onto his face, "Caboose and everyone else too."
Washington nodded his head in agreement, "Things might definitely be much worse if that wasn't the case." He noted, before regarding Tucker fully and carefully before he lost his nerve, "What about you?"
"Me?" Tucker blinked his eyes in surprise, his furry tail swishing back and forth behind him, "I'm not the one missing any loved ones, dude."
Washington saw well past his fake bravado, "All three are rather close friends of yours, and you are friends with their loved ones too."
The blond's pointed out remark had Tucker's feline ears drooping and his shoulders slumping, "It fucking sucks." He admitted finally, his hands clenching tightly into fists at his sides, "But I've got Junior and even you to worry about now though, so—"
Washington stopped abruptly to stare at Tucker incredulously, not sure why his chest clenched at the surprise comment, "Me?"
Tucker scoffed at his shock, "Obviously. What with you sucking at figuring out what's good for you and all." He was pointedly not looking at Washington's face.
The Seas sputtered indignantly, "Th—that isn't even remotely true, Tucker!"
Tucker fixed him with a direct stare at that so quickly that Washington found himself nearly flinching under its intensity, "Oh yeah?" His tone was that of a challenge, "How long has it been since you even fucking ate without me or someone else reminding you to do it?"
"Th—that…" Washington deflated in his protests as his mind drew a blank. Rather than note the look of triumph on Tucker's face, he glanced down the street, "There's just a lot of things that still need to be done here in order to prepare for whatever might be about to hit." He muttered weakly, though he knew it was no excuse to not be taking care of himself. He honestly hadn't even noticed until just now, but knowing that Tucker had…
His gray and yellow-tinged skin suddenly felt rather warm.
"True, but it's not like it's going to fucking help anything if you collapse from hunger or exhaustion before then." Tucker reasoned soundly.
Washington couldn't really argue with that, even if he was rather caught off-guard by the source of said logic. Tucker always managed to catch him by surprise.
"Besides," the Beast Folk continued matter-of-factly, "Who knows exactly what's going to happen anyways?" He leveled another stare at Washington that had him gulping nervously as he said, "I'm almost fucking tempted to pry Doctor Grey away from making out with Sarge just so she can lecture you, and you know how much she scares the shit out of me!"
Washington couldn't help but smile slightly then, feeling oddly touched by the other's concern. Just as he was about to concede Tucker's point, however, a familiar purple blur ran over to them.
Doc's face beneath his flower-crowned hair was red from exertion, and he had to take a few moments to catch his breath. As he did so, he continued waving his arms frantically. It would have almost been funny if he didn't look so desperate.
"Whoa, Doc!" Tucker had also caught on to that fact, his facial features lighting up in alarm, "What the fuck is going on?"
A few more wheezing breaths later, and the healer seemed to have composed himself well-enough to talk once more. He fixed them both with a rather eager stare, his body language appearing both happy and anxious all at once, "A message!" he finally blurted out, "A message just came in from Donut!"
Tucker and Washington both looked at the other for only a split-second before they hurried to Guild Headquarters with Doc hot on their heels.
Someone was leaning down over the hard-as-stone mattress he had been given to sleep on. Simmons woke with a start when he felt his shoulders being gripped tightly in the dark of his cell. He nearly screamed out, but then he felt a soft pressure on the collar around his neck and suddenly there was the warmth of lips pressing fervently against his throat.
"I've missed you so much, Simmons." A heart-achingly familiar voice whispered softly against his ear when the mouth reluctantly pulled away.
Simmons leaned into the touch then, wanting to feel Grif's warm breath against the shell of his scarred-up ear. "I—I've missed you too." He murmured shakily, knowing it for the truth even as a very large part of him wanted to tell the Orc off for having distanced himself before.
All coherent thought flew from his brain when, at the admission he had just been given, Grif suddenly straddled him on the bed. He was kissing the redhead passionately. Desperately. A hand ran over and under the fabric covering Simmons' chest.
"Things are going to be okay." Grif murmured again, reassuringly close to Simmons' ear once more.
Simmons desperately wanted to believe that, but he couldn't stop the quiet sob that broke free from his mouth all the same. Grif hesitated, and it almost seemed as if he might pull away.
Wanting nothing more than for this contact to continue, Simmons quickly leaned up and wrapped his arms tightly around Grif's larger frame. He tried pulling the man in for another kiss, bringing his lips crashing sloppily against Grif's own.
Grif seemed completely shocked by the redhead's sudden ferociousness, but it was only a moment before he was returning the gesture just as greedily, just as hungrily.
His hands slid down to Simmons' waist. "Simmons…!" Grif moaned out his name as his heated fingers continued moving farther and farther down, Simmons responding by moving his hips and…
…And then Simmons suddenly woke up from what was apparently a very deep sleep by his heart pounding so violently that it seemed like it was threatening to burst straight out of his chest. He sat upright in the suffocating darkness all around him, flushed and sweat-soaked, still feeling the feverish touch of Grif's fingers and lips on his skin.
He hadn't had a dream that vivid since…well, that one time and…
Simmons realized even as the heat became tenfold over his entire body that this no doubt had also been caused by the Linking Magic, that it had gotten strong enough to at least slide temporarily past whatever barriers Grif had been using.
Which meant that Grif was probably still somewhere close by. On guard duty still? What time was it anyways? The Orc might not even be consciously aware of what had happened. He was shocked to find tears falling down his cheeks at the thought, though he couldn't say why.
Hastily wiping at his eyes, Simmons jumped to his feet and swung the door open before he could think of the consequences, just desperate to see Grif again. To fucking feel him.
…Only Locus was standing in the hallway instead, Simmons' impulsive action causing him to raise an eyebrow slightly, "What is it?" He asked impassively and Simmons stepped back instinctively out of fear.
But knowing he should say something, the redhead sheepishly asked, "Um...wh—what happened to the guard that was here?"
"I relieved him." Locus tilted his head slightly as he regarded Simmons with what appeared to be mild curiosity, "Why?"
The maroon-wearing human let out a nervous peal of laughter, "N—no reason! None whatsoever." He quickly got out, "Night!"
He shut the door again to block out the dubious look the imposing human had shot his way. Simmons let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, his weak legs giving out as he sank slowly to the floor. All he wanted to do right then was maybe punch Grif and call him a dumbass, but also kiss him until they were both out of breath. Those conflicting feelings were confusing the shit out of him.
Author's Notes: Simmons is making some new friends, but that might not be a good thing given who they happen to be. XD Simmons and Grif really need to get their acts together though. That kind of unresolved tension is not good for anyone! XD
…Lol, I think Locus knows something is up with the two of them though. Just a hunch. XD Whether or not that will bite them in the butt remains to be seen yet.
In honor of it being RvB Smut Week, I included yet another of my near-smut dream sequences in this chapter because that is all I'm capable of writing, evidently. XD Even though I feel I do not write near-smut all that well, I hope it wasn't too out of place!
Thank you for reading, and hopefully you liked this chapter and will enjoy the next chapter too! :D