Written in May 2013

I have Red vs Blue on the brain, and I read a nice post about Sarge & Wash's relationship, and since they're my favorite characters and, again, I have RvB on the brain, I decided to write something about them.

It's sort of pointless fluff and character introspection, but I had fun writing it. Needed something easy today that didn't really go anywhere. Enjoy!

Off Duty

Characters: Sarge & Red Team, Washington & Blue Team

Rating: G/K+

Summary: Washington is nothing like Flowers, and sometimes downtime is a good thing.

Sarge tipped back his shot of bourbon, tapping the little pink umbrella Donut had stuck in the glass on the kitchenette bar-top counter. Grif and Simmons argued over the remote in the background, over whether or not to watch reruns of The Sopranos if he had heard correctly. Sarge tilted the glass sideways, letting the chunks of ice hit each other. Donut, in the meantime, whistled happily in the background as he cleaned the weapons from the stash they'd won back from the dirty Blues in the last battle.

Sarge snorted, flicking the top of his glass. Won back from the Blues.

Today had been a "Red Victory" in their little simulation war. Sarge couldn't help but feel an odd mixture of pride and bitterness over the Blue Flag that was hanging over the television. The Blues hadn't started negotiations to return it yet, but that was pretty normal now a days. Both teams had learned to appreciate the bits of downtime after each 'win.' It often made their 'war' more interesting in the long run. Still didn't change Sarge's mixed feelings over seeing the Blue Flag in their base for the first time since Donut got his "lightish-red" armor.

On the one hand, the Reds had won the 'fight' of the day, which was pretty impressive considering their endless streak of losses since Washington took over the Blues. Sarge was impressed that Donut had managed to distract both Caboose and Tucker long enough with a grenade barrage for Grif and Simmons to steal the flag. It was teamwork, and it did Sarge proud.

On the other hand, they'd only won because Washington had sat out this particular fight.

Sarge smirked to himself. Officially, Washington had left the canyon for a quick recon trip to the closest UNSC base to check up on their Wanted Status. Leaving Blue Base in the hands of Tucker, it was the perfect opening for a Red Attack. No Ex-Freelancer to win the fight or coordinate? It was easy as iced tea. There was no way Sarge would pass up the opportunity to coordinate a counter-strike.

And Washington knew it.

Sarge wasn't a fool, despite his over-eagerness to kill the Blues. He knew a set-up when he saw it. Washington was too honorable a man to willingly throw a fight, thus their never-ending loss streak since he took over. Sarge pat his pistol, freshly returned after handing it over in a past surrender. Washington was also, however, a man who liked to play fair. Washington had arranged the perfect chance for Red Team to get all their stuff back without insulting them by throwing a fight, or just giving it back.

Moral was up, their things were back, and no one aside from Sarge was the wiser.

For a Dirty Blue, Sarge had an inkling of respect for the Wash. A hell of a lot more than he ever had for Captain Flowers, though.

Sarge scowled thinking of the previous Blue Leader.

Washington and Flowers shared one thing in common: They were both ridiculously good fighters, and they both knew it. Only, where Washington refused to lose a fight—even when it was obvious he was barely trying to win—Flowers refused to show his potential at all. He faked it. Sarge ground his teeth, in his mouth under the sound of cooking instructions and Grif mumbling about food.

Any army man could see it in Flowers posture and behavior. That was a man who knew what he was doing. Under all that kindness and love talk, there was something hard and trained. He could have taken out Red Team at any point. Unlike Washington, Flowers had no reason to stick to non-lethal fights. At the time, the war was real to the both of them and it drove Sarge crazy Flowers pitied them out of "kindness."

But, Flowers was dead. Heart attack in his sleep. Sarge rubbed between his eyes. A fate he wouldn't wish on any soldier. Guy should have died in battle! If he ever really participated, that is. But, what happened, happened and Church was left in charge. Sarge snorted. Unlike Flowers, he was legitimately incompetent at battle strategy, and couldn't have hit the broadside of one of Donut's barns back home. Church's promotion to leadership was the start of their eternal stalemate with neither side making a move. It wasn't worth it.

And now they had Washington, and he was probably the best thing to happen to their little canyon in a long time, whether or not Sarge wanted to admit it out loud.

The guy was nice to Caboose, he could keep Tucker in line, he knew how to handle Grif and Simmons, and was oddly kind to Donut. He could also fight like a man, could think strategically enough to keep up with Sarge, and had one of the most level-heads for a crazy-person Sarge had ever seen. He could respect that.

He was also a kid.

Sarge was used to dealing with children, though, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. His base was overrun with them. Blue Team was made up of them, save for Flowers. And while Washington was 'mature,' and hid it better than the others, Sarge knew a scared kid when he saw one. On his own, Washington was mature, responsible, and level headed. Sarge stroked the side of his glass. But when you compared the guy to the rest of the Freelancers they'd met, it was obvious he didn't stack up.

They were all better fighters, smarter, and had an air of maturity that made Agent Washington look like a kid trying to fake it. At least the man had started to relax around his new team, it suited him more.

Sarge huffed. Feeling pity and respect for the Blues. Just what was the world coming to? Sarge was getting too old for this.

"Want me to top that off, sir?" Donut asked from the floor, pointing at Sarge's drink. He scrambled off the floor just in time to miss the remote smacking into the floor next to him. Grif and Simmons froze in their fighting when Sarge glared at them, and they slowly sat on the couch, wisely content to watch whatever channel it had landed on—Cooking Network. Donut ignored them both, popping up on the counter. "Oh! Oh! Or I could try this new thing? I got a new mixed drink book and you look like a Cosmopolitan guy to me! It's even red!"

"Uh, sure," Sarge said, shaking his head. Donut squeaked in delight, and grabbed his empty glass making a run for the other side of the counter. He was in that blasted pink apron, lined in Chantilly lace before Sarge could blink. "As long as there's liquor in it!"

"Righty-o!"

Shaking his head, Sarge leant on the counter, turning toward the television. Donut was humming in the background, while Simmons commented there was no possible way for Grif to eat half of what the woman was making without killing himself. Sarge chuckled to himself. Same old, same old.

"This is how you guys celebrate a win?"

"Sweet Criminy!" Sarge jumped off the bar stool, and turned around. His exclamation drew the attention of Donut, Grif and Simmons to Agent Washington standing by their kitchen stool. Wash bit his lip to stifle the grin on his face. Sarge straightened and poked Washington twice in the chest. "When in the sam hell did you get here!?"

"I walked in a few minutes ago," Washington chuckled. He put his hands in the pockets of his cammo pants, armor nowhere to be seen. Sarge huffed, and relaxed a fraction. Looks like they were 'off duty' then for this encounter. Washington rubbed under his nose, looking off to the side like a guilty school kid. "Not my fault you guys were occupied."

"I hate it when you Freelancer types do that," Sarge mumbled to himself. He supposed they deserved a trick or two to themselves, but gosh darn it he needed to put a bell on that kid! Sarge sat back down on the stool. "You need something, soldier?"

"Caboose is missing his picture book," Washington said. He rubbed the back of his cropped blonde hair. "We can't find it in the base, and he's upset. I thought it might have gotten stuffed in the box of weapons you guys took."

"And you're here to negotiate its return?" Sarge said.

"Not really." Washington shrugged. "I was going to just ask for it back."

"We claimed that equipment in a raid, I think negotiations for surrender are in order," Sarge said. He leant back on the counter. "We won it fair and square, after all."

"I could always just tell Caboose I saw it over here."

"Fair point, Blue," Sarge admitted. The thought of Caboose rampaging through his base, upturning furniture and weapons to look for his book sent a chill down his spine. Sarge turned over the counter. "Hey Cupcake, you see a picture book when you were polishin' those guns?"

"Nope! I think I would have noticed a book after polishing all those long and hard—"

"All I needed to know, thanks." Sarge turned to Grif and Simmons. "What about you two? See Caboose's book?"

"No, sir!" Simmons said.

"Nope," Grif answered.

Washington's shoulders dropped and he huffed. His eyes went back and forth, like he was reading a list in his head. Washington pressed his lips together. "Then where is it? He's only got the one, and we've looked everywhere in our base for it."

"Maybe it's under his bed. That's where Grif hides all of his picture books!" Donut said cheerfully as he put Sarge's Cosmopolitan on the table top. Washington glanced at it when a smirk, and Sarge kicked him the nosy-Freelancer in the leg. He took a deliberate swig that had Donut nodding in approval. "Though Grif's books probably aren't something Caboose should be reading."

"Donut! What were you doing under my bed?" Grif shouted, leaning over the back of their worn red couch.

"Well, it's not like you'd let me get on top of it!"

"Both of you shut up!" Simmons yelled, covering his ears. "Caboose's book! Focus on that!"

"Well, okay." Donut crossed his arms. "Let's make a list of possible places we can double check! Maybe he took it outside and left it or something. I used to do that on the farm all the time!"

"Maybe," Washington said. His posture dropped and he shook his head. "So much for my hunch it was over here."

"Hey Wash! You in here!?" Tucker called from the Red Base doorway. He was dressed down in civvies, blue jeans and a tee shirt. "We found Caboose's stupid picture book!"

"It's not stupid! You're stupid, Tucker!" Caboose shouted, clutching a large hard-cover book to his chest. Sarge smiled as the kid stomped his foot. That was two-for-two dirty Blues who weren't all that bad. Sarge shook his head. He was losing his touch. Caboose stomped into the base and stood in front of Washington. "Tucker is the stupid one!"

"Shut up!" Tucker yelled back, following Caboose into Red base. "I had to waste my time looking for your dumb book because Wash wouldn't let me watch my shows while you were crying!"

"It's good you found it," Washington said, ignoring Tucker like a good leader should. Tucker was the Grif of Bluebase, so Sarge could respect that. Washington tapped the edge of the book. "Where was it, Caboose?"

"On the roof, can you believe that?" Tucker looked over at the bar. "Dude, you guys have liquor!? Wash doesn't let us have liquor! Hey, Donut! Make me a drink."

Both Sarge and Washington sighed at the same time as Tucker made himself comfortable on the bar stool, and Donut started to pull out bottles. Tucker kicked off his shoes under the counter, making it very clear he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"Washington," Caboose said, his voice low. "Since, since we found my book can-you-read-it-please?" His words were rushed in his excitement.

"Sure, Caboose," Washington said, a smile tugging on the side of his face. He took the book as Caboose whooped.

Sarge shook his head as Caboose grabbed Washington's hand and dragged him to the corner where Donut had been polishing. Washington may have been a kid to Sarge, but he was definitely the resident parent of Blue Team. Kids raisin' kids, would wonders never cease?

The Red Drink tasted good, Sarge would admit, as he sipped it. Donut and Tucker argued in the background over the proper ratio of liquor in the mixed drinks. Grif and Simmons yelled for Wash to toss them the remote so they could argue over a new show. He complied—hitting Grif in the face to Sarge's delight—and turned his attention back to Caboose. The Blue soldier hugged Wash's arm to the point of cutting off the circulation as he bounced in his seat waiting for the next page to turn as Wash read. Sarge watched them all.

Downtime wasn't so bad.