The first time it happened to him, Dexter Grif woke up in a total panic. The growling resembling a chainsaw ringing in his ears, his body covered in a cold sweat and shivering, fear reaching all the way to his toes. The screams that came from him didn't even register in his brain until the rest of red team was standing by his bed in variations of annoyance and concern. Grif didn't know what was worse, the embarrassment at the night terror or the actual worry Sarge had for him in his "Son, are you alright?" With an agitated shift of his mass Grif grunted and lay with his eyes closed until everyone retired to their beds. After a few minutes a strained voice called across the room "Grif, are you okay?"

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep Simmons."

Two weeks after the initial incident, the worry for their teammate subsided to pure frustration at loss of sleep. After brushing, flossing, and inspecting for food particles, Simmons entered his shared bunk to find Grif worrying the back of his neck.

"I can't sleep."

"You haven't even laid down yet, how would you know?"

"No, idiot. I can't GO to sleep. I'm… afraid. But if you fucking tell any of them, especially Doc, I will murder you Simmons. I'm not a basket case to be analysed..."

"Right, you're just afraid of sleeping."

"I'm not making a joke, Dick." Simmons knew by the defeated tone that Grif really was searching for help.

"Is it dreams? Like do you remember what you're dreaming when you wake up, or do you just… wake up afraid?"

"Both. Sometimes I relive the memory entirely and other times I wake myself up screaming and sweating."

"The sweat is normal man. You really need to lose some weight."

"Fuck off, it's different. And better than you, I can fucking break you by sitting on you."

"Because you're that fat!" Grif cracked a smile, for the first time in a long time. Simmons gave a soft laugh and sized up his partner. "I'll watch over you tonight, maybe you'll feel more safe. We can at least try it. I'll sit by your bed and just tap into the cyborg pieces and just charge up."

"You want me to plug you in?"

"Shut up and go to sleep before I change my mind and just make you sleep outside." Grif grumbled but obliged, lifting the covers and getting comfortable. Simmons pulled a chair over and sat vigilantly at the bedside of his best friend.

"Hey Simmons, thanks man." Grif said before closing his eyes.

It took Grif an hour to fall asleep and within the next one he woke up and let out a single yelp before Simmons took action. He placed his metal hand on Grif's sweat soaked chest. Both of Grif's hands clasped on and his breathing began to normalize.

"I'm here, you're safe. I promise."

Eventually, Simmons needed to sleep too. Wary of the night to come, Simmons crawled into his own bed across the small room. Grif had stopped screaming, but the night terrors still came every night and he would wake to clutch Simmons' hand and relax to his comforting words. But now was the real test, could the soldier make it through the night with only his nightmares?

A sound closer to a chainsaw than a voice chased after him and Grif watched the crimson blood trickle through the once white snow. He was hiding from the Meta, his labored breathing leading the massive ex-agent straight towards him. "Hrrgggehhggg…" If his heart beat were any louder it could have woken the dead. The curved knife snuck from above the rock Grif was hiding behind and into his helmet, bringing him straight to consciousness in the dark bunk.

With several fast and deep intakes of breath, Grif sat straight up, "Simmons, Simmons." He almost cried, his hand groping into the darkness for his friend who was not beside him. Faster than he had probably moved in years, Grif was beside Simmons bed, nudging the soldier over so he could join him inside it.

His breathing was frantic and his eyes stung but the moment one scrawny arm reached around the large Hawaiian man's chest he felt the panic begin to subside. "I'm right here you big coward. Afraid of your fucking dreams, getting in my bed. Who's the loser now, loser."

"Still you." Grif said on the output breath in his panic. The metal arm reached under Grif's neck and the calculated fingers began to brush through his long knotted hair, each stroke calming Grif down more.

This carried on for weeks until Grif just started going to bed with Simmons in the first place. One night they lay there, discussing their teammates.

"You know, I have to wonder if Donut MEANS for things to come out the way they do or if he honestly doesn't mean to say the gayest things I've ever heard." Grif raised his hands in defeat and turned to Simmons for his input. The look of consternation on his face had Grif laughing. "You look like you either haven't shit in a month or you just shit yourself. And I'm hoping it's the first one because otherwise I'm getting the fuck out of our bed."

"Grif… I…ugh… Grif I think I need to tell… I-"

"Hey Simmons, shut the fuck up, I know." Grif pressed his bloated hand over his eyes, groaning internally; he wasn't sure Simmons was ready for his own revelation.

"You know what? I don't think you do."

"I know you're gay as dicks for me."

"I am not- There is no way I'd- I could do a lot better than- I- Yeah. Yeah I fucking am. I'm fucking gay for you, you fat ass." Simmons lowered his eyes to meet Grif's, expecting him to leave the bed, the room, maybe even this squad.

"Same, kiss ass." Grif strained his neck forward to place one rough kiss on Simmons' lips.

The night terrors began to subside, but Grif still stayed in Simmons bed, holding onto his boyfriend while he slept. Simmons had the habit of curling up as tightly as possible and fit himself into Grif's sprawl, burying his head in his chest. However, the two reversed roles when the night terrors returned; Simmons holding Grif and whispering to the shaking terrified man. It wasn't an ideal start of a relationship, but it was theirs and they wouldn't change it for anything.

The other men didn't need to be told that the two were together. It was obvious in the disappearances. No one would have blinked twice about Grif going missing, but when Simmons started making off the wall excuses coinciding with Grif's "naps", even Sarge started putting two and two together. It wasn't shame that kept the two quiet, there just wasn't a need to "come out". However, Simmons worried that keeping it quiet would be synonymous with lying to their superior so, leaning up on his pillow one night, asked Grif how they should tell the team.

"Well, Simmons. We ought to just have raging sex in the mess hall when they're trying to eat. Then everyone will know."

"Grif!"

"Hey maybe it'll get you off. Public sex could get that motor running." Simmons rolled over, crossing his arms.

"I don't have a fucking motor, asshole. It's a circuit system that hooks up all my cybernetic org-"

"It gets my motor running when you talk nerdy." Grif sloppily kissed the pale, freckled skin on the back of Simmons' neck.

"Go to sleep, and if you really need to clutch onto me at some point, try not to grab the cyborg one? You sweat like a pig and you're going to short circuit me." Simmons swatted at his horny bedmate.

"I'm going to clutch something alright." The two delved into kissing and groping and the night terrors didn't dare come between them.

The next morning paranoid fear set Sarge to send his men to spy on the blues, who were currently in truce with the reds.

"This is fucking stupid. The blues never do anything, they're just doing the same shit we're doing. Except they probably don't have to spy on us because their leader isn't a fucking dumbass." Grif exhaled.

"G-g-grif, you don't have to agree with him but you really should respec-pec-pect Sarge."

"Woah, what's wrong with you Simmons?" Donut questioned his fellow soldier.

"Nothing. What the f-f-f-fuck's wrong with you D-d-d-donut?!" Simmons paused.

"Did you just hear yourself, Simmons?"

"Yeah I, I did. I don't know-ow-ow-ow-ow-"

"I love that song!" Donut began to hum along to the supposed song.

"Shut up Donut! Are you alright, Dick?" Grif whispered the latter while Simmons kept his repetition going.

"-ow what's wrong? Maybe my circuitry-try-try-try-try-try is m-messing up." Simmons cautioned.

"WOAH!" Simmons arm smacked out wildly, barely missing Grif. "I p-p-p-promise that wasn't on- woah!- purpose!" The arm jerked upward, free of Simmons control.

"Maybe we should go back to Sarge, he's like a robot expert. He can get you fixed." Donut suggested.

"Y-yeah, I'll go back. B-b-b-b-b-b-but you two stay-ay-ay-ay here. Sarge'll lose it if he th-th-th-thinks we're disobeying order-der-ders."

"Yeah yeah, just go figure it out." Grif grabbed Simmons shoulder, holding on long enough to convey his concern and the best way he could say I love you, get better.

After a pop over to blue base to sit around and joke with Tucker and let Donut talk to Caboose, the men made their way back to red base.

"Hey Sarge, we're back, did you miss us?" Donut called as they entered. Grif wasted no time by reporting back to his leader and instead searched for Simmons. He entered the barracks hall and turned into his and Simmons room to see the man facing the bed in only his boxers. Grif grinned and stepped towards him.

He wrapped one arm around his torso, "Waiting for me?"

In a movement so unlike the bumbling ginger soldier, Simmons slammed Grif into the wall, his metal arm pressed against his neck. Grif kicked feebly at Simmons, begging to be let down. Simmons pulled his arm back but stayed in his threatening position.

"Listen, I know I normally like it rough, but that's taking it way too far. Seriously, what the fuck Simmons." Grif rubbed his neck where Simmons arm had just been, coughing slightly.

Simmons said nothing, he continued to stare down the fat Hawaiian man. "Who are you?" Grif looked back, bemused and slightly annoyed. "I asked, who the fuck are you."

"What are you even getting at, Dick, this isn't funny, knock it off."

"Who are you?" Grif's eyes widened. He wasn't kidding. Grif pushed his way out of the room and stormed deeper into the base.

"SARGE! YOU FACTORY RESET MY BOYFRIEND!"