Fuck Me
Summary: All was less than well when Simmons and Grif got relocated to Rat's Nest.
"Fuck me."
Simmons jumped a little, wondering what Grif was angry about now. He had been sullen and moody for weeks, ever since their transfer, but he refused to give any indication as to why. Simmons had finally just given up and figured he was just being surly because he had been given responsibilities. Same old Grif. Same old lazy Grif.
So when he turned and saw Grif standing in nothing but his fatigue trousers, his face an odd mixture of sadness and irritation, he was a little shocked.
"Well?"
Simmons wrinkled his eyes, uncertain as to what Grif was getting at. "Well what?"
Grif stared back at him expectantly, though still clearly annoyed. "Fuck me," he said again.
It began to dawn on Simmons exactly what he meant. "What... now? Just like that?" It had been weeks since they...
"Yes," Grif said. "Just like that."
He snorted and waved him off. "Look, whatever game you're playing now, I'm not in the mood."
Simmons was half turned back to his task of organizing his drawers when he felt two firm hands on his shoulders spin him around. Anger sparked in Grif's eyes. "Maybe I don't give a fuck what kind of mood you're in," he said.
"Grif, stop being such a bitch."
"Don't you mean, 'stop being a bitch, Sir'?" Grif mocked. "When did you stop being a kiss-ass, huh?"
"When they promoted you over me," Simmons shot back without even thinking.
So that's it, you're fucking jealous. "Maybe they had enough kiss-asses and wanted someone with a little integrity for a change!"
"Integrity?" Simmons laughed. "Yeah, right. I'm surprised you even know the meaning of the word!"
"Right. Just like you wouldn't know the word 'faithful' if it punched you in the nuts."
Simmons froze. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Oh don't play dumb with me," Grif snarked. "I saw how you were looking at her."
For all that Grif was standing half-naked in front of him, Simmons felt as if he were the vulnerable one between them for the moment. "I- I don't- Look, I've never-"
"Not having the chance to cheat doesn't make you faithful." Grif snorted and half turned away, crossing his arms. "I guess I should just be glad you kept it in the family, huh?"
Simmons hung his head. "I didn't sleep with her, Grif," he said quietly.
"You would have," Grif spat. "My sister. My fucking sister, Simmons! My baby sister!"
Simmons wanted to protest but found he couldn't really argue. It hadn't really occurred to him until just now how weird it was to lust after your boyfriend's sister, or how much that would obviously have bothered Grif.
"Why did you even come here?" Grif asked. "Why didn't you just stay in that fucking canyon where you could fuck my sister and kiss Sarge's ass and be rid of me at last?"
Simmons bore the scorn well, and he had to admit it was not entirely undeserved. Oh sure, he knew he hadn't had a chance in a million with her, but some part of him wondered if he had... would he have? He could not honestly say no, and that bothered him.
Yah, he had thought about Grif's sister. Ever since that day when her naked body had twisted and bent in ways he hadn't thought possible, he had wondered what it would be like. And yes, he had thought about staying. But he hadn't. "Because you meant more to me than any of that," he murmured softly.
"I don't- wait, what?"
"I didn't come because of the orders, Grif. I followed you."
Grif fumed silently for a moment. Simmons refused to look him in the eye. At last, Grif said, "Prove it."
"How can I possibly do that?" Simmons said, resignation in his voice.
"Maybe start by pretending that you still give a shit about me!"
Simmons looked up again. As angry as Grif sounded, Simmons suddenly saw the pain he was hiding behind his eyes. "You think I don't care?"
"You sure as shit don't act like it," Grif grumbled.
Simmons rubbed his head as understanding began to grow in regards to what had been going wrong all these weeks. "Oh Grif," He murmured.
"What?" Grif said, feeling like something major had just changed and he had missed it somehow.
"Grif, I... I'm sorry. You're right."
Grif had been expecting a fight, so he was rather uncertain what to do now that there wasn't one. "I am? I mean right. Yes!"
"I knew you'd always be here." He paused, shrugged, then continued. "I knew no matter what, we'd still be together, and... I guess I forgot to show you what I was feeling because I thought you just knew." Simmons looked at him, hopeful. "You do know, right?"
"Know what?" Grif asked, his fight draining.
Simmons tried a few times to start, and then it all just came flowing out before he could even really think about it. "That... that you drive me crazy. And you're lazy, and dirty, and don't know the first thing about being a leader, and you get jealous over the stupidest shit, and you eat the worst crap imaginable, and I wish you'd stop smoking, and it's only because I don't want you to die on me, Grif. I want your dirty, lazy ass. I want your jealousy and your shit diet and your bad leadership, and your sullen moodiness, and I even want your fucking disgusting cigarettes because it all means you're still here, and that's all that really matters. That... that you're still here."
Grif had wondered at first if this was some fucked up form of breaking up, but as Simmons had continued, he began to understand as well. They had gotten comfortable with one another. So comfortable, they had almost forgotten that they really did love each other. "I'm still here," he murmured softly.
An almost-but-not-quite awkward silence descended for a moment, broken at last when Grif rather unexpectedly pulled Simmons forward, pausing with their faces just inches apart. Eyes closed, he could feel Simmons's breath on his skin, could hear nothing but his pulse throbbing in his ears.
Simmons at last whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"So fuck me," Grif breathed. "Show me you still want me."
Simmons breath caught for a moment, then he leaned in and kissed him. Gentle at first - slow, as if he had forgotten how - he pressed his lips to Grif's. Over and over he kissed him, becoming longer, deeper. "God, Grif.. I want you so bad," he moaned.
Grif pulled back for a moment, and Simmons was afraid something was wrong. He gave him a questioning look, and Grif let a slow grin spread on his face.
"That's, 'I want you so bad, Sir'."
"Fuck me."
Simmons jumped a little, wondering what Grif was angry about now. He had been sullen and moody for weeks, ever since their transfer, but he refused to give any indication as to why. Simmons had finally just given up and figured he was just being surly because he had been given responsibilities. Same old Grif. Same old lazy Grif.
So when he turned and saw Grif standing in nothing but his fatigue trousers, his face an odd mixture of sadness and irritation, he was a little shocked.
"Well?"
Simmons wrinkled his eyes, uncertain as to what Grif was getting at. "Well what?"
Grif stared back at him expectantly, though still clearly annoyed. "Fuck me," he said again.
It began to dawn on Simmons exactly what he meant. "What... now? Just like that?" It had been weeks since they...
"Yes," Grif said. "Just like that."
He snorted and waved him off. "Look, whatever game you're playing now, I'm not in the mood."
Simmons was half turned back to his task of organizing his drawers when he felt two firm hands on his shoulders spin him around. Anger sparked in Grif's eyes. "Maybe I don't give a fuck what kind of mood you're in," he said.
"Grif, stop being such a bitch."
"Don't you mean, 'stop being a bitch, Sir'?" Grif mocked. "When did you stop being a kiss-ass, huh?"
"When they promoted you over me," Simmons shot back without even thinking.
So that's it, you're fucking jealous. "Maybe they had enough kiss-asses and wanted someone with a little integrity for a change!"
"Integrity?" Simmons laughed. "Yeah, right. I'm surprised you even know the meaning of the word!"
"Right. Just like you wouldn't know the word 'faithful' if it punched you in the nuts."
Simmons froze. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Oh don't play dumb with me," Grif snarked. "I saw how you were looking at her."
For all that Grif was standing half-naked in front of him, Simmons felt as if he were the vulnerable one between them for the moment. "I- I don't- Look, I've never-"
"Not having the chance to cheat doesn't make you faithful." Grif snorted and half turned away, crossing his arms. "I guess I should just be glad you kept it in the family, huh?"
Simmons hung his head. "I didn't sleep with her, Grif," he said quietly.
"You would have," Grif spat. "My sister. My fucking sister, Simmons! My baby sister!"
Simmons wanted to protest but found he couldn't really argue. It hadn't really occurred to him until just now how weird it was to lust after your boyfriend's sister, or how much that would obviously have bothered Grif.
"Why did you even come here?" Grif asked. "Why didn't you just stay in that fucking canyon where you could fuck my sister and kiss Sarge's ass and be rid of me at last?"
Simmons bore the scorn well, and he had to admit it was not entirely undeserved. Oh sure, he knew he hadn't had a chance in a million with her, but some part of him wondered if he had... would he have? He could not honestly say no, and that bothered him.
Yah, he had thought about Grif's sister. Ever since that day when her naked body had twisted and bent in ways he hadn't thought possible, he had wondered what it would be like. And yes, he had thought about staying. But he hadn't. "Because you meant more to me than any of that," he murmured softly.
"I don't- wait, what?"
"I didn't come because of the orders, Grif. I followed you."
Grif fumed silently for a moment. Simmons refused to look him in the eye. At last, Grif said, "Prove it."
"How can I possibly do that?" Simmons said, resignation in his voice.
"Maybe start by pretending that you still give a shit about me!"
Simmons looked up again. As angry as Grif sounded, Simmons suddenly saw the pain he was hiding behind his eyes. "You think I don't care?"
"You sure as shit don't act like it," Grif grumbled.
Simmons rubbed his head as understanding began to grow in regards to what had been going wrong all these weeks. "Oh Grif," He murmured.
"What?" Grif said, feeling like something major had just changed and he had missed it somehow.
"Grif, I... I'm sorry. You're right."
Grif had been expecting a fight, so he was rather uncertain what to do now that there wasn't one. "I am? I mean right. Yes!"
"I knew you'd always be here." He paused, shrugged, then continued. "I knew no matter what, we'd still be together, and... I guess I forgot to show you what I was feeling because I thought you just knew." Simmons looked at him, hopeful. "You do know, right?"
"Know what?" Grif asked, his fight draining.
Simmons tried a few times to start, and then it all just came flowing out before he could even really think about it. "That... that you drive me crazy. And you're lazy, and dirty, and don't know the first thing about being a leader, and you get jealous over the stupidest shit, and you eat the worst crap imaginable, and I wish you'd stop smoking, and it's only because I don't want you to die on me, Grif. I want your dirty, lazy ass. I want your jealousy and your shit diet and your bad leadership, and your sullen moodiness, and I even want your fucking disgusting cigarettes because it all means you're still here, and that's all that really matters. That... that you're still here."
Grif had wondered at first if this was some fucked up form of breaking up, but as Simmons had continued, he began to understand as well. They had gotten comfortable with one another. So comfortable, they had almost forgotten that they really did love each other. "I'm still here," he murmured softly.
An almost-but-not-quite awkward silence descended for a moment, broken at last when Grif rather unexpectedly pulled Simmons forward, pausing with their faces just inches apart. Eyes closed, he could feel Simmons's breath on his skin, could hear nothing but his pulse throbbing in his ears.
Simmons at last whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"So fuck me," Grif breathed. "Show me you still want me."
Simmons breath caught for a moment, then he leaned in and kissed him. Gentle at first - slow, as if he had forgotten how - he pressed his lips to Grif's. Over and over he kissed him, becoming longer, deeper. "God, Grif.. I want you so bad," he moaned.
Grif pulled back for a moment, and Simmons was afraid something was wrong. He gave him a questioning look, and Grif let a slow grin spread on his face.
"That's, 'I want you so bad, Sir'."