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 Five:
"Remind me again why we're doing this?" Lavernius Tucker asked from where he was sitting next to Washington at the restaurant's bar, their heads leaning so casually close together that they were nearly touching.
While David Washington enjoyed their current proximity more than he'd probably ever care to admit, he couldn't help but sigh and roll his eyes at the question that had been repeated so very often this night.
"You're the one who suggested this, remember?" Wash tried reminding the dark-skinned man yet again.
Tucker scoffed, "Yeah, but that was back when I didn't think you would agree to it."
By "it," the younger man meant essentially spying on the nearby business meeting between Carolina and Vanessa Kimball. Ever since Carolina had asked Washington to help arrange some kind of rendezvous between the two of them, the two women had been conversing with one another for a few months through mutual associates and encrypted messages.
Washington had to admit that he was a bit surprised by the venue for their first face-to-face meeting. A casual restaurant didn't really strike him as either Carolina's or Kimball's style. He supposed it made sense to talk about business on neutral territory in a way, but this? This was almost too date-like to be considered a good location to discuss business.
Even just sitting at the bar here with Tucker felt quite a bit like being on a date. Not that Washington would ever say that out loud or dare complain about it, of course.
"I honestly didn't think you were serious about spying on our friends." Wash noted in response to Tucker's remark.
"Dude, aren't you just a little curious?" The other man countered, hiding his face behind a menu as his gaze wandered over to the table where Carolina was currently sitting, "I mean when was the last time that Carolina even went out?"
Wash frowned, knowing the answer all too well. The redhead hadn't gone out anywhere or done anything remotely outside the realm of work ever since York had passed away. Likewise, after Doyle's death, Kimball had devoted herself more to her work than ever before.
That's why it had definitely caught him off-guard when both women had announced the location of their eventual get-together as a casual downtown restaurant with a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. Certainly nothing was going to keep them from talking business there if they were so inclined, but it was definitely a different type of atmosphere to find either of them.
Given that, the former Freelancer would be lying if he said that he wasn't at least a tad curious.
Besides, having helped in part to get Carolina and Kimball talking to one another had actually improved his relationship with Carolina quite a bit. She had been friendlier to Washington these past few months, to the point where it almost felt like old times again. As a result, a part of him really wanted to see just how things would ultimately play out with this odd scenario.
Not to mention, Tucker's own desire to spy on his boss meant that he could be in for a whole world of trouble. Washington felt like he had to watch out for the teal-wearing driver.
The fact that it gave them something else that they could do together? Well, that wasn't lost on Washington either. Still, it was a ridiculous predicament that he had allowed the handsome younger man to put him in all the same.
"I still can't believe I let you talk me into this." Washington muttered, taking a sip from his drink of water.
"Neither can I." Tucker admitted, "Trust me, dude, the second I said something I thought you'd be a total fucking killjoy."
"I am not a "killjoy."" Wash muttered defensively, "I'm just practical."
"Code word for killjoy." Tucker said, grinning.
Washington sighed, his gray-eyed gaze going into the direction of Carolina's table. The red-haired woman had just finished perusing the menu for the fifth time since she had sat down and was now glancing at her wristwatch.
By some miracle, it seemed as if she hadn't caught onto the two men yet. Washington let out a sigh of relief. Maybe there was still time to put a stop to this ridiculous plan before it backfired on them spectacularly.
Washington turned back to face Tucker, "You know, maybe we should—"
"Leave before someone notices that you're spying on them?" An all-too familiar voice said from behind them, "I agree completely."
Now that they had been thoroughly busted, both Tucker and Washington glanced at one another before reluctantly turning around. Vanessa Kimball was standing there, dark-skinned arms crossed over her chest. While there had been a slight edge of annoyance to her tone just then, it appeared as if her brown eyes were glistening more with amusement.
"Kimball." Wash felt his mouth going dry, "We were just—"
"Leaving." Carolina's voice spoke up a second later as she came to join Kimball in standing in front of the now doubly busted Tucker and Wash, "Weren't you, Washington? Tucker?"
"Yeah, yeah. We know when we're not wanted." Tucker groaned, "I'm going to be in a shitload of trouble, aren't I?"
"We'll see how work goes later." Carolina said, actually sounding more amused than anything else. She shot a conspiratorial glance over at Kimball, who smiled slightly before returning the gesture with a nod.
That was when it all fell into place for Wash, who asked them knowingly: "How long have you known we were here?"
Carolina smirked, "Since you both sat down at the bar." She noted, "Your stealth skills need some improvement."
"Carolina texted me on my way here." Kimball added, a bemused glint still in her eyes.
Tucker let out a sigh before turning to Washington, "Man, we were fucking busted right from the start."
"I'm afraid so." Kimball told him with false sympathy lacing her voice.
Tucker tipped an imaginary hat in their direction, "Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted." He repeated from earlier, flashing them a grin, "Enjoy your evening, ladies."
As Tucker and Washington left the restaurant, Wash could see both Carolina and Kimball sitting down at the table that Carolina had been occupying before out of the corner of his eye. Both women were smiling. If Tucker's "spy escapade" was something that helped offer a pleasant diversion for them, then it was worth it. Still, he couldn't help but be curious about what exactly their meeting would really be about.
As they entered the brisk night air outside, Tucker stretched his arms high above his head, "Well, there goes my plans for the evening." He informed Wash, a twinkle lighting up his dark eyes as he asked a second later, "Wanna go get something to eat since we didn't get anything in there?"
Washington couldn't help but smile at the prospect as he nodded: "Let's go."
The car moved forward, Dexter Grif feeling the hum of the engine reverberating through his fingers on the steering well. Well, maybe that was more his imagination than anything else. But, hey, one had to romanticize a job a bit to keep it semi-interesting.
"We checked with security at the event." Felix's voice sounded bored as he talked, his back to Grif in the passenger cabin of the car, "Everything should be fine."
"Should be?"
From the rearview mirror, Grif could see Hargrove's eyebrow as it arched up disapprovingly at Felix's choice of words.
Felix seemed to realize his mistake and was no doubt making a face at that very moment, "Sorry. It will be fine."
Of course, Hargrove was one who wanted everything in terms of absolutes. "See to it that it is." The older man commanded, gazing disinterestedly out the car window as he did so.
Grif was pretty certain that the face that Felix had made before was still plastered on as he sarcastically mumbled, "You're the boss."
…The mercenary was no doubt very good at his job to get away with that kind of lip, especially to Malcolm Hargrove of all people.
From next to Felix, Locus turned his head to shoot his partner a pointed look before speaking up, "We'll check with security once more to see how they're set-up again when we get there."
Hargrove nodded his head, remaining silent. Evidently that settled the matter for him.
"Um…"
It did not, however, have the same effect on Richard "Dick" Simmons. Grif started slightly at the sound of his friend's voice, staring at the redhead fidgeting in his seat next to his intimidating-as-all-fuck boss.
"A—are all these security measures really necessary, sir?" Simmons asked Hargrove, "It is a business gala, after all."
Hargrove turned to stare at his personal assistant who wilted quite a bit under his gaze. Grif winced, feeling bad for the poor guy. After all, all the kiss-ass had done was ask a fucking question. "You can never be too careful when it comes to business matters, Simmons." The older man stated at length.
"Our boss likes to err on the side of caution." Felix was most likely smirking at the sight of Simmons squirming just then. Grif found that he was gritting his teeth at the thought as the orange tie-wearing guard informed the redhead smugly, "Let's just say he isn't the most popular around town."
"Felix!" Locus hissed out his partner's name in annoyance.
A flash of mild annoyance crossed over Hargrove's weathered features at Felix's comment, "You forget your place, Felix."
Felix shrugged his shoulders at the warning tone in his employer's voice, "I'll be sure to remember it from here on out. Sir."
Hargrove stared at Felix a moment longer as Grif turned the car right, the banquet hall where the gala was being held directly ahead of them.
"I always find these types of events tedious, especially when business is discussed with them." The chairman muttered under his breath before casting a glance over at Simmons and the file he was carrying protectively to his body, "Are the papers in order?"
Simmons gulped nervously and glanced down at the neatly organized folder for what was probably the umpteenth time knowing the nerd's obsessive compulsive habits, "Y—yes, sir."
"Good. We'll begin talks immediately once the festivities are underway."
Felix whistled appreciatively, "Corporate takeovers and parties. Fun times all the fuck around."
Perhaps fortunately for the orange and black-wearing mercenary, Grif pulled up to the entryway of the gala at that exact moment. Both Locus and Felix beat the driver out of the car, their eyes carefully scanning the area for any potential threats with a complete and utter air of absolute professionalism. When they seemed to spot nothing out of the ordinary, Locus opened the car door to allow Hargrove to step out.
The chairman turned to face Simmons, "I expect you to join me in a few minutes with the contracts, Simmons." He stated before beginning to walk away.
"Y—yes, sir."
Simmons waited until Hargrove, Felix, and Locus were inside the building before he let out the breath of air that he had apparently been holding for quite some time.
Grif raised a black eyebrow, "Nervous, are we?"
The red-haired man glanced up at Grif's smirking face in the rearview mirror before letting a tiny, sort-of smirk form on his own, "You could say that."
Grif grinned. Simmons had been coming by the Project Freelancer Garage along with Washington and Tex for a few months now. Despite the nervous energy that still flitted about the redhead every so often, particularly around Grif himself for some reason, the two had developed a pretty friendly rapport with one another.
It just sort-of sucked that when Grif was on the clock like this for Hargrove, they could really only banter like they had started doing more of in tiny moments such as this.
Grif actually really liked Simmons' company, even if he teased the shit out of the nerdy kiss-ass too. "You could always ditch." He offered, "I won't tell anyone."
Simmons rolled his eyes, "Yeah, like I need to make things even harder for myself. Asshole."
The tan-skinned man shrugged, "You're the one working directly for Hargrove." He said in way of a response, "I figured you were already a glutton for punishment."
Simmons frowned but said nothing. An awkward silence descended over the car, and for a moment Grif was afraid that he had overstepped some personal boundary.
The chubby man was about to say something to try to fix things when Simmons let out a sigh, his grip on the file he was carrying tightening. "I should go." He muttered, green eyes not looking at all pleased at the prospect.
"I'll be here." Grif motioned with his head to the parking lot, "Should you decide to ditch for a little while after all."
Simmons snorted at the notion.
"Hey, you've gotta learn to live dangerously, Simmons." Grif advised him in a sage-like voice.
"Says the guy who is going to be taking a nap in the parking lot?" Simmons raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"It's called "rebel napping" when you're on the clock, and it is fucking awesome."
Simmons smiled slightly and shook his head, "I think I'll just have to take your word on it." He muttered as he slipped out of the car.
"Steal me some food while you're in there?" Grif asked hopefully.
Simmons' smile widened slightly at the normality of their banter just then, and Grif was glad to see at least a little of his nervousness abate, "We'll see, fat-ass. We'll see."
Grif was fairly certain that he had a couple of hours left to kill before anyone from the Hargrove party would come by looking for their ride home. These fancy event gigs tended to last for quite a while. He took advantage of the situation in the best way possible, by "rebel napping" as he had described it earlier to Simmons.
Oh, yeah. The orange-wearing driver could be a true maverick when he wanted to be. So, Grif sat himself down in the driver's seat of the parked car, leaned back, and promptly closed his eyes. He tried not to think of what Simmons was up to as he dozed. Even putting so much as a modicum of worry into his naptime would offset the whole delicate process of obtaining the ultimate snooze.
Besides, he was certain that his overachieving friend was fine despite Simmons' nervous energy from before. All the redhead evidently really had to do here tonight was play nice to some big wigs, something that his kiss-ass self excelled at already. Plus, hand Hargrove a folder when asked for it.
Fuck, Grif could probably do that himself in his sleep if he was so inclined. Which he wasn't, because that would be pretty boring even by his standards.
With thoughts of Simmons out of mind, Grif was free to relax. He had long since figured out that worrying about what trouble Kaikaina Grif was getting herself into whenever he wasn't there to chaperone his little sister was pretty fucking pointless, so there was really nothing holding him back from getting a few decent hours of glorious, glorious naptime right now.
…Or, that would be the case if some jackass would stop knocking on the window of the passenger side of the car.
Grif let out a defeated sigh and cracked a dark eye open to see just who was sadistic and cruel-as-fuck enough to disturb his rest time, surprise hitting him straight on a second later once his brain caught up with what he was seeing.
Simmons was standing there, looking slightly hesitant and for all the world like a lost puppy. The moment he realized that Grif was staring right at him, the redhead wrapped his arms around himself to block out the chill of the night air.
After Grif continued staring at him dumbfounded for a few more seconds, Simmons rolled his green eyes in exasperation, "Let me in, fat-ass." His voice was muffled by the closed car doors, but there was no mistaking the slight note of impatience in his tone.
Not that Grif could blame him. Currently, the autumn weather was pretty chilly. Simmons had neglected to wear a jacket over his tuxedo, no doubt on account of the party being indoors.
"Well, since you asked so nicely, kiss-ass." Grif muttered sarcastically, fiddling with the locks.
Simmons threw the chubby man a grateful look as he practically dove into the passenger's side of the car, promptly shutting the door on the cold outside before it could seep in any more than it already had, "Thanks."
"Welcome." Grif lazily turned to regard the redhead, a smirk splaying over his features as he did so, "I have to say, I didn't think you'd actually take me up on the whole "ditching" thing. Maybe I'm rubbing off on you more than I thought."
Simmons' pale face turned red and he frowned, "Hardly. There's been a change of plans." He stated at length.
Something about the awkwardness in his tone caused Grif to raise an eyebrow curiously, "Oh?"
"A…a friend approached Hargrove with a p—proposition for tonight after the event." Simmons was turning fire hydrant red now and squirming in his seat, "A lady friend."
"Eww." Grif really didn't want to hear any more details than that on the subject.
Bad enough that he hadn't gotten any in a long time, longer than he would ever care to admit, but to now know that Malcolm Hargrove was? The mental images coming to mind right then and there would be sure to haunt him for years to come.
Simmons sighed, "So after his business was concluded, he said that I could just leave if I wanted to." He squirmed again, "His…ah, friend, has a ride they'll be taking."
"I'll bet." Grif also could only imagine how Felix and Locus must feel about the change in plans.
Shaking his head to rid himself of some truly disturbing thoughts, he gripped the steering wheel and reached over to turn on the ignition, "So then, do you want to go back right away?"
He would still be paid for the full night either way, so Grif was rather happy about getting to call it in rather early. Simmons was silent for a moment, looking rather lost in thought.
Grif glanced at his maroon-wearing passenger questioningly. The redhead's mouth was pressed into a thin line and he clenched his hands into fists in his lap. It seemed as if Simmons had just won some inner debate amongst himself. His face once again took on a reddish hue that blended in nicely with his freckles.
"A—actually, if it's all the same to you…" Simmons began hesitatingly, "Could we maybe…hang out instead?"
Grif raised a dark eyebrow, but didn't say a word. He wasn't fucking sure how to respond to that request.
Simmons fidgeted in the passenger's seat, his blush intensifying until his face was practically glowing in the parking lot's lamplight, "I mean, we don't have to…"
The tan-skinned man shook his head at Simmons' comment, "Nah, man. It's cool." He reassured Simmons, smiling a little at the prospect himself, "I wouldn't mind."
"Re—really?" The personal assistant visibly relaxed once he heard Grif's remark.
Grif nodded, "Would have fucking said otherwise if I did."
Simmons nodded himself, the blush on his freckled features still remaining, "Thanks, Grif. I mean it."
Grif said nothing for a few seconds as he turned on the car's ignition. As the engine flared to life, he glanced over at the man seated next to him with a smug smirk beginning to play across his face. "You didn't bring me back any food, jackass." He noted with fake disappointment dripping from his voice.
Simmons couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Hurry up and just drive, fat-ass."
Author's Notes: Five chapters in and a character finally said the title of the story! :D
Thank you so much for reading this chapter too! :)