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 One:

The storage area of the huge facility dedicated to salvaging and repurposing in Chorus was very much akin to any of the numerous large warehouses that Richard "Dick" Simmons had visited frequently over the years. It was cavernous and sterile, built for the sole purpose of containment and storage and nothing else.

The redhead also knew from firsthand experience that warehouses like this had ample hiding spaces, either for when you were planning ambushes on enemy combatants or trying not to let your commanding officer or teammates know that you were in the midst of yet another panic attack.

Or just when a particularly lazy comrade somehow managed to convince you to shirk off your duties for a while because "Come on, Simmons! You know as well as I do there isn't really a fucking point to any of this anymore."

Considering the war that had gone on for who the fuck knew how long beforehand, such buildings were a staple and necessity due to the need for quite a bit of space to store untold amounts of equipment.

In this particular warehouse here were vehicles and weaponry all in various states of repair out in the open or sealed up in containers, along with a myriad assortment of other pieces of tech that needed to be categorized and sorted through. Most of the items had likely already been and were now just waiting for the proper assignment so that they could be shipped to other areas of the city.

A person could lose themselves completely in the sheer amount of work that needed to be done in a warehouse for hours on end, or possibly even days. Even in that case, they would probably not even come close to making a dent in terms of what was stored here. Especially not with even more supplies and scrap materials coming in on a constant, daily basis as they were.

It was a lesson in futility time and time again whenever one stepped foot in places like this, Simmons had found.

How often in the past when assigned to warehouse duties had Simmons not been somewhat grateful for a chance to get away from people trying to kill him, or pour himself into endless repetitive tasks to keep his constant nerves at bay? Yet how often had he also dreaded the monotony, along with the screen display that showcased the sheer amount of objects contained within the space?

The numbers and stats constantly scrolling across a data screen just reinforced how impersonal the combat situation they had been living in day in and day out had really been.

When he thought back to that now, even though it had only been a few years since, it was an oddly distant memory. It was a nostalgic ping, yes, but a completely foreign feeling to what emotions flowed through him when he presently stepped into the warehouse here at Chorus.

The concept behind the building and its structure were the same. No doubt this warehouse had been built for that very wartime purpose all of the others he had walked into beforehand had been, but its "feel" and what it represented to him couldn't have been more different.

It was the first step in the process of rebuilding a city, not storing things for a later use of killing or maiming.

Given that thought, the cyborg didn't actually hate being here at all.

Though given his recent lack of sleep and the sheer amount of new containers in the space right now as if to mock him, he did regret opting out of a second cup of coffee earlier.

"Isn't this amazing, Simmons?" His perpetually peppy younger teammate, Franklin Delano Donut, was beaming up at the crates that Simmons was openly gaping at as if completely oblivious to his friend's predicament.

Sometimes Simmons was more than just a little afraid of Donut's cheeriness. At other times he found himself annoyed by its constant presence. Still, there were other times he found himself simply craving whatever the fuck it was that the dirty blond was on to keep his mindset that way.

This was one of those instances in which Simmons couldn't tell which one of those emotional responses would work best.

He really wished he'd had that second cup of coffee when Donut had offered it to him before.

Or a third one.

Or a fourth.

Fuck it. He probably should have rolled up a sleeve of his maroon-colored shirt and just gotten an IV drip of the life-giving stuff from Doctor Grey.

He imagined she'd be curious enough to see what the possible side effects of such an act would be and would actually agree to the experiment, if only to then follow him around to take down research notes.

Which would probably also help to keep the redhead on his toes, now that he thought about it.

"The last salvage haul had been a great one!" His friend was still talking in the midst of Simmons' caffeine-filled fantasies, "It's a shame I couldn't help look too, but it seems like our boys really explored every hole they could find."

"En serio, yo ni siquiera tengo que apagar anoche y sigo pensando que es demasiado pronto para eso." {"Seriously, I didn't even need to power down last night and I still think it is too early for that."}

Sarge's robotic creation, Lopez, spoke up a few seconds later. He had followed the other two into the warehouse proper out of sheer boredom. Or perhaps to escape from being alone with Sarge and Doctor Grey for too long. It was hard to say with him since he didn't speak a language anyone of them save Sheila or possibly Donut understood.

"I agree, Lopez. It is impressive!" Donut nodded his head to whatever it was he had thought the brown-armored robot had said.

It was always pretty debatable if the dirty blond ever did get it right, however, since normally there was a mechanical-sounding sigh whenever he translated.

"Lo que sea. Voy a ir y hacer mi propia cosa que debería haber hecho en vez de hablar." {"Whatever. I will go and do my own thing like I should have done instead of speaking."}

The robot glanced from the two of them back to the containers as if debating something before speaking up again.

"Sólo llámame más cuando se necesita algo pesado movido y no sólo para mostrar sintonizar cantar a coro, como la última vez." {"Just call me over when you need something heavy moved and not just for show tune sing-alongs like last time."}

"Which songs do you think we should sing while we work today, Lopez?" Donut asked him, a thoughtful look crossing over his features.

"Olvídalo. Voy a apagar mi sistema auditivo." {"Never mind. I am going to turn off my hearing system."}

With that, Lopez walked off to the workbench where he had been upgrading communication devices the other day. From the assortment of new mechanical components and trinkets resting in assorted piles all over its surface, it looked as if even more equipment had come in for him to prep as well.

Donut was still humming happily to himself, thrilled at their large haul. After all, any and all potentially usable equipment was constantly in high demand to help keep the place functioning.

Still, while Simmons could certainly understand his friend's happiness, he couldn't help but show a bit more concern over the larger-than-average payload himself.

"It really is great, Donut," he managed to speak up his concerns finally once Donut had reached the last note of the song that was playing only in his mind, "But don't you think getting large caches like this could cause Chorus to catch even more attention from black markets and private weapons dealers?"

Let alone possibly neighboring territories who might not feel they had been as fortunate with their acquisition efforts recently.

Perhaps Simmons' fears in this instance were rather unfounded. It wasn't as if they usually got shitloads of material all the time, even if the stream of acquired equipment from the scavenger and survey runs was usually rather steady.

Regardless, what he had mentioned was definitely a bit of a concern.

The war itself might have been over a few years now, but no one was completely free from danger. The all too real threat of bandits and other less-than-savory criminal elements was always constantly looming overhead, on top of the potential political machinations of neighboring regions.

It was pretty much why so many of the regions kept to themselves now. Most only extended base diplomacy and trades when it was absolutely vital and necessary for their own continued existence.

The world was still very much trying to focus on simply rebuilding and trying to survive the new times it found itself in, along with the people residing in it.

Even Chorus, with its rather radical "open door to those who come in peace" policy, had done so solely because they wouldn't have survived otherwise. The policy had simply turned out to be a very smart move for continued growth in the long run. Given that, it was no wonder that neighboring areas had also started to evidently adapt similar policies to varying degrees of success as well.

"Well." Donut put a finger to his lips to ponder Simmons' question, the thoughtful look crossing over his features once more surprisingly serious. Then again, Donut was more aware than most people gave him credit for. Simmons had seen that firsthand over the years that they had worked together, "I can see your point, Simmons. But we have to try to look at things positively whenever we can!"

It was a classic Donut response and while Simmons still felt a bit uneasy, he couldn't help it when the lightish-red wearing male's enthusiasm rubbed off on him a little bit.

Though that particular mental description did have him inwardly blanching and thinking that maybe he had been spending too much time interacting with said teammate recently.

"Donut's right, Simmons," Sarge's voice spoke up from behind the two as the door leading from the warehouse to the actual research, workshop, and secondary clinic area for Chorus slid open, "In situations like these, it is best to look on the bright side."

"But!"

The older man's red armor made his entrance even more noticeable. Even though none of the others beyond Lopez and Sheila due to their designs usually wore their armor outside of fieldwork anymore, the habit was one that Sarge could just not break. Simmons was halfway convinced he'd had it molded to his body years ago given how rare it was to ever see him completely outside of it.

Sarge removed his armored hand from its interlacing grip with Doctor Grey's, which everyone pointedly avoided mentioning since it wasn't entirely clear just what was going on there. Neither had yet to make it official through announcement to anyone else, at least.

Moving forward, Sarge patted Simmons' shoulder briefly in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture. Thankfully, he looked away just before Simmons lost his battle to keep himself from tearing up.

"More equipment means better defenses, and enough firepower to blast our enemies to smithereens should they be foolish enough to even try and pull something!" There was a manic gleam in the older soldier's brown eyes at that particular prospect, "That would lickety-spilt get the message out that Chorus isn't a place to mess with!"

"Excessive force is sometimes the best deterrent." Doctor Emily Grey chirped in happily, "It's why I proposed electrocuting the refrigerator doors should someone leave them open for longer than thirty seconds. Might seem extreme at first, but once people figure it out? Just think about all of the energy we'd save!"

Sarge chuckled, "I would just get a kick out of seeing Grif flailing around on the floor for a little while, so a double-win for me!"

Somehow, Simmons had the feeling Doyle would probably never agree to that proposal.

Which was probably a good thing given that, as Sarge had said, he couldn't imagine Grif actually letting a little thing like the potential for electrically-induced seizures keep him from leaving the fridge door open in order to remove most of the device's contents for a late night snack. Or a third breakfast.

Grif was stupidly motivated when it came to food.

Grey glanced over at Simmons then with an oddly contemplative look on her face, evidently noticing the dark ring that was under his one remaining human eye.

The dark-haired woman was around the age of most of his teammates save for Sarge, who most people had simply stopped trying to guess the age of given that his obvious deflection of "twenty-nine" whenever he was asked wasn't remotely true unless he'd aged horribly. So, it wasn't really terribly surprising that Doctor Grey's eccentric personality had caused her to quickly ingratiate herself into their group dynamics when they had all first come to Chorus to live following the fighting.

But, no matter how used to her Simmons became given that, her insightfulness when it came to health matters never ceased to unnerve him despite knowing how capable she actually was in the medical field.

"Didn't get much sleep last night, Simmons?" Grey asked, her tone conversational but with a sudden sharp and assessing look lighting up her gaze.

Sarge picked up on the new vein of conversation as well, and the sudden look sent to the patch of smooth metal over one side of his face and what was visible of his synthetic arm wasn't lost on Simmons. The redhead shifted awkwardly under the scrutiny and tried in vain to pull his shirt sleeve down over it more, though all that ended up doing was expose more of the continuing metal right up to his collarbone.

He knew why they were concerned, given that they had been trying to help make adjustments and continued improvements to his cybernetics in order to get them to be more comfortable overall. But, Simmons still couldn't help but be self-conscious over the whole thing. Particularly when it was brought up in front of others.

Grey and Sarge were going out of their way to help him, no matter how much they tried spinning it as some ongoing science project. It was because of moments like this, when they showed genuine concern that wasn't brought on by him saying something to start with, that sort of canceled the whole "This is for science! Mu-ha-ha." tale they kept spinning.

Kind of, at any rate. He couldn't help but picture both of them doing maniacal laughter either way.

"Oh! Er…"

Actually, though, this time for once his lack of sleep wasn't a direct result of his cybernetic body parts causing him discomfort. They honestly hadn't been doing that nearly as much since the last batch of upgrades, save perhaps in the rare cases they had of extreme weather.

Donut was quick to confirm that too, much to his inner relief since Simmons found it difficult to articulate under the duo's combined scrutiny. The cyborg suspected that if he had just told them himself, they would have assumed he was simply trying to cover it up like he had done a few times before in the past when he didn't think one of his "episodes" was too major.

"Oh, it wasn't because he was feeling sick or anything!" Donut remarked, "The big old silly just had to stay late last night because he's a perfectionist and one of the generator repairs hadn't reached optimal levels yet."

Simmons shot his younger friend a thankful look for the comment.

Sarge frowned, "You do know the generator has about five backups all in perfect order, don't you, Simmons? That repair could have easily been spaced out longer. No need to lose sleep over it."

"Um…" Simmons' face heated up, and he quickly turned his face away.

The redhead was not about to let anyone know the real reason for why he had decided that repair had suddenly jumped to the top of his inner utmost importance list.

Nope. No fucking way!

Just as he thought Grey in particular might make a remark about his sudden bout of extreme bashfulness, a new voice cut into the fray.

"You know the nerd's a stressed out workaholic. He gives himself a shitload of unnecessary stuff to do all the time." Epsilon, who often preferred going by Leonard Church amongst friends or out in public just to avoid troubling questions, said as he joined their gathering.

Simmons shot the dark-haired man a glare even though his commentary was technically more truthful than he'd care to admit. His glare only intensified a hundredfold at the sight of the steaming, extra-large mug of coffee the goateed man was currently chugging down.

Lifeblood stealing jackass!

Church shot him a taunting smirk when he noticed what Simmons was staring at so enviously before he continued, "Besides, it's probably a good thing he actually fixed the fucking thing last night in hindsight." His gaze flickered to the large shipment currently before them, "With this much shit to sort through, that repair could have been pushed back awhile."

"Even with the multiple backup generators, Kimball wouldn't have liked that much of a delay." Sarge conceded, nodding his head in understanding. He shot Simmons a grateful look then, "Good initiative and foresight there, Simmons!"

The cyborg blushed at the praise, and couldn't help but fall back into old habits as he saluted, "Th—thank you, sir!"

"All right then, let's see what we've got here!" The older man looked at the crates appreciatively, "Hopefully a lot of this stuff will have some mighty hefty firepower to it!"

Simmons looked over at Church then, who grinned and mouthed "You owe me, nerd!" at him.

The redhead sighed, figuring that probably meant his workload would double for another day at least.

Doctor Grey still seemed slightly unconvinced, largely because she was observant as all get-out and had silently witnessed the exchange between Church and Simmons so she knew there was most likely something else going on. Thankfully, the dark-skinned woman decided not to make a large issue over it either.

"I have to discuss some clinic matters later today with Doyle and Bones," she informed Simmons instead, "But it might not be a bad idea for you to come by for a follow-up afterwards. Even if you're feeling great at the moment, it's been a few weeks since your last adjustment. Going through a routine physical will help keep you feeling better too."

It was a rather logical assessment to make, and the cyborg knew he tended to avoid checkups more often than he should anyways. Even if Doctor Grey unnerved him at times with her mannerisms and odd sayings, she was the best when it came to medicine and cybernetics in Chorus.

Simmons nodded his head in quiet agreement, knowing regardless that no matter what he did to try to postpone things he would be hounded until he relented anyways.

"At least you don't cry all through your appointments like Church does!" Doctor Grey said with a friendly wink, obviously as a response to the earlier teasing she had witnessed.

"Hey! That was only the one fucking time, and it was only because a certain psycho doctor lady decided to see what would happen if they cranked my neural implant receptors up to a million or some other crazy ass number before testing reflexes!" Church shouted back.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Epsilon had neural implants in his brain when one wasn't paying attention to the odd bumps in his hairline close by his ears. At least given how that type of cybernetics was less visible than the metal plating Simmons had covering parts of his body or his red-tinted eye.

"It was all for a good cause!" Doctor Grey smiled with the force of a thousand suns, "We managed to adjust them just right because of that."

Church mumbled under his breath about how he wasn't sure it had been worth it given the blackmail photos Tucker had taken, or the "get well" hugs forced on him by Caboose following it. Still, his attention was now diverted away from Simmons as a result of the change in conversation, as was Doctor Grey's.

So, it was a win-win in the cyborg's book. Simmons figured now might be a good time to slip away and grab a mug of wonderful, life-affirming coffee himself.

Unfortunately for his ever-growing desire for caffeine today, the door to the warehouse opened again and a tiny blur of teal came racing in.

The small, dark-skinned boy with almost fluorescent blue lines threading all over his body had raced past everyone else to latch onto Lopez tightly with a voiceless exclamation of glee.

"Oh grandioso. No me gusta tratar con niños en la parte superior de ustedes. ¿Esto significa que puedo tomar un descanso del trabajo si está aquí?" {"Oh great. I hate dealing with kids on top of you guys. Does this mean I can take a break from working if he's here?"}

Lopez muttered something in electronic Spanish, looking almost hopefully at the group before awkwardly patting Junior on the head.

As he was clutching the brown-armored robot, it was easy to see that the blue lines on the child's skin resembled veins but were much more uniform. They even matched up to another line on the other half of his body perfectly, providing a very symmetrical appearance.

"Oh, hey, Junior!" Donut exclaimed at the child's presence, stopping the work he himself had really barely started, to move over to the child and bend down to his eye level, "What brings you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Church spoke up as the small boy with intense blue eyes that nearly matched in coloring the lines on his skin glanced over at the younger soldier but didn't attempt communicating anything more than a tiny smile to him, "Kid got smart and ran from Tucker the first chance he got."

"Él viene aquí para pasar el rato con nosotros en vez probablemente refutar eso." {"Him coming here to hang out with us instead would probably disprove that."}

"Up yours, Church!" Lavernius Tucker's voice came from behind them about two seconds later as he joined everyone, his middle finger quite prominently extended as he regarded the other man, "You're just jealous that I have a kick-ass son and you don't."

Simmons couldn't help but shake his head slightly at the exchange. Mocking and teasing definitely seemed to be the preferred means of communication amongst members of their group.

Church had probably even known Tucker was close by when Junior had run in, if the odd smirk crossing over his face as he returned the gesture almost like it was a very messed-up greeting was any indication.

Truthfully, it was a wonder more of their outings in the past hadn't resulted in split lips or nights spent in jail.

Donut looked eagerly over at Tucker from where he was still bent over giving the child in their midst a high-five, asking him hopefully: "Oh, oh! Does this mean we're up for babysitting duty then?"

It was a pretty good guess. When school wasn't in session for the few children currently residing in Chorus, Tucker would often require help from his teammates to keep an eye on Junior.

Unfortunately, Junior's inability to speak and the obvious signs of his heritage as a genetically engineered being made things very uncomfortable for him in peer situations. The few times that Tucker had tried taking Junior to outings that weren't as directly involved with their group had pretty much always resulted in tears, and his son would end up having such severe anxiety issues following them that he couldn't even eat for days afterwards.

Children could be immensely cruel to anyone in their midst they could peg as "different" right away. That was even more prevalent when they had parents or family members around who still held onto annoying prejudices against humans created through artificial means despite how Chorus in general was trying to stamp that out.

However, even with the fact that Vanessa Kimball herself made no effort to hide her lineage either, it was going to be a long and difficult process to fully do. Especially with more refugees coming in to Chorus all the time from areas that weren't as open-minded in the first place.

Still, the situation did showcase that for all of their many flaws and quirks, the odd little familial group had become a strong support system when it came to helping Tucker in raising the boy.

Perhaps some of that was due to the earlier forced necessity of the whole situation during wartime as Tucker had managed to escape from forced captivity as an unwilling test subject with a baby in tow, and had nowhere else to go.

Considering how way-too-young Kaikaina had been when Grif joined and she had still been with them back then too, no one wanted to abandon a baby to an even worse fate than simply growing up amongst an extremely dysfunctional military unit. There was nothing else to do for it, really. But now there was certainly a strong level of affection rooted in the matter that was always pretty prevalent to everyone involved.

However, the dark-skinned man often took his son with him to most places. The only times when Tucker really needed their help with watching Junior were when he desperately needed some free time, or when he was about to go on a scouting mission of some kind.

Considering the time of day, that probably meant it was…

"Yeah, thanks again for always being willing to help." Tucker broke through Simmons' thoughts with a nod in response to Donut's earlier question.

Sarge scoffed, "Nothing to thank us for. You know he's always welcome here." He shot Tucker an assessing look, apparently on the same page as Simmons' earlier thoughts, "Though I take it with how the two of you just barged in, this isn't an outing that was planned?"

He looked slightly eager himself just then, and Simmons could take a rather large guess as to why. Sarge was always a little more gleeful when it came to the idea of potentially volatile situations happening anywhere around his vicinity. If only because it increased the likelihood that the older soldier would be able to shoot at something later, even if he wasn't involved in the initial outings.

"Something like that." Tucker told him, though he hastily added at the sight of the manic glee suddenly crossing over Sarge's face at the prospect, "Though it isn't really anything dangerous. No marauders or any of that shit."

Yes, from Tucker's tone it was pretty obvious that they were all well aware of Sarge's "boner for murder" by this point.

"A mapmaking group just came across a new cache site that hadn't been opened up yet close by." Tucker elaborated further, shrugging disinterestedly, "You know how those runs tend to go."

"Pretty dang boring!" Sarge acquiesced, his shoulders slumping slightly as Grey gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, "Oh, well. I suppose you can't win them all." He sighed, "There's always another day!"

"Well, I guess I'm not really feeling too disappointed that I probably won't be getting shot at today." Tucker commented dryly.

"It's more about how alive you feel shooting back, son." Sarge looked at him with a great deal of sympathy for not having understood why he should be a bit more upset at an uneventful retrieval mission, "You'll figure that out some day though!"

"You give the weirdest afterschool specials, Sarge." The dark-skinned man could not hide the amusement that was forming in his eyes.

"Wait until you hear him give the talk." Church remarked with a very visible shudder, "I still have fucking nightmares."

"That was the one with the drawings, correct?" A feminine voice spoke up just then in a slightly robotic tone, "I thought the visual aids made the whole thing even more informative."

Apparently most of their uncourteous friends never really thought about the need to knock before entering a room.

"Definitely a very creative way to get the point across." Another cheerful newcomer to the conversation chimed in, this time male, "He even let me borrow his talking points once."

Simmons glanced towards the warehouse door as both Sheila and Frank "Doc" DuFresne entered into the gathering. He had honestly forgotten that they were going to be stopping by as well given everything that had been going on recently.

At the same time, the redhead couldn't help but notice that Doctor Grey looked at Sarge with a newfound sense of appreciation at this recent tidbit of information she'd learned about him.

"Oh, I would love to see your approach to that topic at some point!" She exclaimed excitedly, "I'm always fascinated by different ways of bringing it up, even though most people get really squeamish whenever I try to discuss it!"

Tucker shot both Church and Simmons a look that clearly said "Can't imagine why that is when most of what she says is disconcerting as fuck in general." But he apparently decided, rather smartly for all involved, that moving the topic along before any brains could explode would be the best course of action.

"Neither of you happened to see Grif before you got here, did you?" Tucker asked the two newcomers instead as they seemed to settle into the current group's dynamics.

While they were waiting for an answer, Simmons noted that Sheila had gone over to talk quietly to Lopez about something. The female robot had even extended a cordial greeting to both Junior and Donut in the process.

Lopez, oddly enough given his own robotic nature as well as his usually more exasperated responses to just about everything, actually seemed rather nervous and happy with the gunmetal green robot's attention placed upon him. Well, as far as most people could tell anyways.

Donut's translations were more than just a little suspect at times when it came to any words Lopez spoke and, while Sheila evidently knew what the other robot was saying, she apparently chose not to translate it all the time out of "politeness" either for the brown-armored individual or for everyone else. She would never say which it was.

Both Donut and Tucker swore Lopez was in love with Sheila, and Simmons was starting to suspect that they might be on to something with their theory the more times he witnessed their exchanges.

Of course, Church kept swearing he would gouge his eyes out if he ever caught wind of any kind of "robotic lovefest" that happened as a result.

Then again, the goateed man tended to say the same thing whenever anyone joked about the possibility of other couples in their group, such as Grif and Simmons. And, well, it wasn't like there was much of a chance of that ever happening, was there?

Simmons fidgeted slightly, hating himself for dwelling on that topic again when he had promised himself he wouldn't. Considering everything that had happened, there was no way that would—

"I'm afraid I haven't seen him since the previous morning." The robotic female was telling Tucker just then, interrupting the redhead's thoughts now that her exchange with her other compatriots and Junior had apparently finished.

"And I'd seen him that afternoon." The teal-wearing man was frowning pensively.

"Should I try reaching him through messaging his armor's comm-link?" Sheila inquired as she moved over to help Church lift one of the heavier boxes they needed to set down for further inspection.

The dark-haired man glanced at the robot gratefully, the gesture a bit surprising and almost out-of-character for him. If anyone else had attempted to do so, Church would have probably shouted angrily at them for butting in without asking, save for maybe Carolina or Doctor Grey given his rather intelligent healthy dosage of fear he had for both of them.

Truthfully? Church had bitten heads off for far less than someone offering him help. Then again, he and Sheila had always had a very close bond together, even before they had become part of their odd and mismatched group of outcast soldiers.

Carolina, Sheila, and Washington had all said it was due to events at the infamous Project Freelancer, but they always refused to elaborate any more than that. Church would just say it wasn't anyone's goddamned business and most likely follow that up with giving them the finger for good measure.

He could be a bit of an asshole at times. Though, in fairness to Church, the same could be said for any of them in certain moments.

"Nah, thanks anyways though." Tucker told her, "Knowing the fat-ass, he's probably sleeping somewhere after stuffing his face and isn't remotely close to his armor."

Simmons stiffened slightly, wondering just how accurate Tucker's guess may be. Considering that the other man had tried begging him to go out last night—

"Oh, like that one time when he somehow ended up in that all-you-can-eat hotdog contest and passed out in a ditch?" Donut questioned cheerfully, Simmons thankful for the interruption to the train of thought his mind was currently traveling on.

"I still say baiting a cage with donuts and beer is the only logical way to find that lazy excuse for a soldier whenever he goes AWOL." Sarge grumbled, "Though why in that case you'd actually look for him and not celebrate your good fortune is beyond me."

Since the end of the war, Sarge's anti-Grif commentary never had any actual bite to it anymore, no matter how harsh it might sound to an outsider.

Something that was proven a second later when the older soldier turned to Sheila and told her it was probably a good idea to message him anyways despite the possible futility, if only so that he could berate his subordinate for once again making everyone needlessly worry over him.

Doc had been glossing over some medical supply lists with Doctor Grey, but he paused to look thoughtfully at Tucker, "I had seen Kaikaina earlier today when I went to visit the hospital wing." He recalled, "But she didn't mention seeing Grif."

"Yeah, he tends to avoid Kai when she's training with Bones because of that last time she used him to test giving shots." Tucker nodded his head slightly with the recollection.

Simmons remembered that incident as well. Afterwards, the larger tanned man looked like a walking pincushion for quite some time with all of the bruises that had formed around the spots the syringes had entered, and he couldn't even sit down for long periods of time without extreme soreness and aching.

Grif had been especially upset following that because he later found out that said shots had all been empty. He'd evidently hoped that maybe volunteering to help his sister out could have resulted in him being vaccinated for every disease in existence for life somehow, despite everyone telling him that wasn't an actual thing.

The lazy ass always did like to dream about anything that could help him potentially avoid future effort.

Despite all of that, Grif simply didn't have the heart to ever tell his little sister no, especially since he was actually quite proud of how motivated she was to have more proper field medic training. It did help to keep her out of more direct combat situations, after all. So, instead, Grif had just started to avoid ever visiting Kai when she was training at the hospital.

"Yeah, I'd heard about that." Doc mentioned, looking slightly teary-eyed, "Bones said it was an amazing display of familial love!"

"Except the whole tricking him into agreeing to it." Church mumbled under his breath.

"Actually, she said that was the part that reminded her of familial love." Doc informed him cheerily, "Apparently family outings are quite something at her house!"

Church shuddered for a moment at that in a "I don't really probably want to even know." gesture before adding emphasis by shrugging, "Eh, probably still better than any of mine were."

"Aw, Church, that isn't fair! Carolina's a great sister!" Donut chided him.

"Yeah, she is." The other man scoffed, "It was some of the others who were the assholes."

Church's expression had darkened considerably, and he muttered something about how he needed another cup of coffee before quickly leaving the area.

The others watched him go and Doc couldn't help but wince a bit behind his purple-framed glasses, asking rather regretfully: "Did I say something wrong?"

"Dude, it's just Church." Tucker reasoned, "You know how he is. Sometimes just saying "Hello" is enough to piss him off."

"El repartidor estaba llorando la última vez que se abrió la puerta primero." {"The delivery man was in tears the last time he opened the door first."}

"Lopez is right! Sometimes Church just needs time." Donut reassured the medic, causing the brown-haired man to smile slightly as Lopez let out what sounded like a mechanical groan while Junior looked at him questioningly.

Simmons sighed, glancing at the exit that Church had gone through.

Sadly, there was no fucking way he would be getting any coffee now. Not if a sullen and grumpier-than-usual Church was guarding the pot and probably willing to kill anyone who tried taking it from him.

"Anyways, that brings me to you then." Tucker deduced, turning his full attention to Simmons.

This caused the redhead to blink and bring his mind back to the current situation. Being put on the spot always made him exceedingly nervous and self-conscious, especially since he had a fairly good idea as to why he was being put there now.

"M—me?" Simmons tried playing stupid anyways, "How come?"

Tucker arched an eyebrow incredulously, "Come on, dude. If anyone is likely to know where Grif is, it would be you."

"He's right, Simmons." Sarge piped up just then, "The two of you are very close. Have been ever since you met, practically. Inexplicably so. Completely defying any concept of logic or reason."

Simmons felt the still-human portion of his face heat up, but ignored it to respond to Tucker.

"H—he did say something about wanting to go out to a bar he likes last night." He muttered, "But there was work I felt needed to be finished here first. I haven't seen him since."

The cyborg didn't mention that the work he "needed" to finish was not at all urgent, or that he had just come up with it needing to be completed just then to get out of said night on the town. Thankfully, his workaholic tendencies in general meant that most people wouldn't question the occasional fib about things like that.

Nor did he mention that the reason he had done so was because Grif had really wanted to go out with him alone that night. They didn't need to know that Grif had seemed a little weaker on his feet than usual and more than just a bit red-faced. The last time the two of them had been out together privately when that had been the case…

His thoughts shifted to just how disappointed his friend had looked at the ever-growing tally of night-out invites that Simmons had rejected. The redhead decided not to mention that either.

No, it was really best not to dwell on all of that right now. For any of them.

Simmons felt guilty over stuff as it was, and the questioning look on Tucker's face just then wasn't helping anything.

"Well, that's just fucking perfect!" He groaned, finally turning his attention away from seemingly attempting to read the cyborg for clues as to there being more to the story, "This is literally the one time when trying to find Grif isn't as easy as just checking in with you."

Simmons flushed, wincing inwardly, "Sorry, Tucker."

Since the search for their chubby teammate was holding up the works for an expedition that could prove vital for the region of Chorus as a whole didn't settle well with Simmons, and because he was feeling a bit nervous with no one really being sure of where the other man had gone, the cyborg offered, "I…I could help you look for him. If you'd want."

He then turned to Sarge questioningly, "If that would be all right with you, sir?"

The older man shrugged, "A waste of energy if you ask me, but I won't stop you." He thought of something else just then a moment later, "It would probably be best if you took a break anyways for a few hours since you stayed here all night working on the one repair. While it wasn't too vital, it was probably good you decided to fix it now. We'll be sure to message you if anything changes."

Sarge was being generous, no doubt because with Doc and Sheila there they had even more help than usual.

Besides, in his own oddly roundabout way, Sarge probably wanted them to find Grif too. If only for the sake of starting the mission that would hopefully lead to more explosive-creating items.

"Thank you, sir!" Simmons couldn't stop himself from saluting again.

"Fuck, yeah! That'll definitely help!" Tucker grinned, "I would have tried asking Wash, but he's been busy with training some of the new soldiers."

"Plus Carolina would probably get annoyed that you even bothered asking her." Grey reasoned wisely.

Tucker couldn't help but laugh then, "I'd avoid doing that just because the hospital trip both Grif and I would have to go to later would totally not be worth it."

No one really argued that point. At all.

The sun was shining brightly overhead when the two men stepped outside after Tucker had said his goodbye to Junior.

As the dark-skinned man was busy promising Junior something good and totally unhealthy for dinner that night, Simmons momentarily shielded his eyes against the onslaught of brightness. His inorganic eye was especially sensitive to extreme differentiations in light now.

After one last wave to Junior, his friend was already contemplating the best way to approach their search, "So, how about I check out all of the restaurants and bars then?"

Made sense, even if Simmons also suspected Tucker was just curious to catch wind of anything interesting that might be happening in the entertainment sector of the city on top of trying to locate his salvage partner. Sometimes Grif's "nights out on the town" ended up carrying over well into the next day.

The amount of food and alcohol he could consume was pretty damn mind-boggling.

Simmons gave a quick nod, "I can check out the apartments then."

Given that, it also made a whole lot of sense that Grif could have possibly dragged himself home at some point during the night and had passed out there too.

"Sounds good to me." Tucker nodded as well, "Even if I don't find him, I'll head there to get ready for the mission anyways."

Just like that, the search was on.

Tucker went left a little farther down the street, heading through the winding streets and alleyways lined with buildings and rubble intermittently strewn about in the direction of the entertainment district.

Simmons, meanwhile, headed right and towards the living facilities that had been set up for those soldiers and other personnel who were aiding in the rebuilding of the city.

They had been redesigned into apartments now. However, during the height of the war when not only Chorus but the rest of the world as well had been at each other's throats for survival, the facilities had served as barracks.

Given just how many people had been drafted, or even served voluntarily over the course of the fighting, they were pretty fucking spacious now that the rooms had been limited to just individuals, the occasional roommate duo or trio, and families. Even with the constant influx of new people coming into the region every day.

Simmons glanced around him, taking in just how much things had changed in the aftermath of the ceasefire. For starters, walking around like this in the middle of the day without seeing a shitload of on-duty soldiers would have been near impossible even just a couple years ago.

For the longest time, well before any of them had even been born or created, there had only been two nations on the entire planet.

Red and Blue. No one was sure why those names had been picked. Calling countries by colors was a rather peculiar practice if you asked him and, really, the reasoning behind the names was probably pretty far removed from the simple reality of living day to day on the planet.

At some point in the world's history, the two countries entered into war with one another.

No one even knew the reason why that had come to pass either. After all, it had been centuries ago. For all anyone knew, someone in one country had thought someone else from the other had simply looked at them funny.

Regional boundary lines became blurred as a result. A place would fall under one banner until the tides in fighting shifted, then they would become controlled by the other until the next shift.

Resources and people didn't particularly matter during the fighting. Priority always went to the war effort no matter what else might be going on in a locale. Most advances in any of the technology or medicinal fields tended to go hand-in-hand with the war effort too.

Simmons had, he was fairly certain, been born in a region that had been controlled by Red at the time. But, the locale had changed sides so often depending on what was happening during the fighting that no one could keep track without getting a massive headache.

It didn't really matter, anyways. No one was exceedingly loyal to one group or the other. You simply swore loyalty when power shifted, or you would just have to leave before being executed. That was the rule at the time.

His family had been somewhat influential, though he honestly wasn't sure how. It had something to do with what his father did for a living, but his parents never thought it important enough to fill him in on what that was. Their good standing had persisted until sometime later on when Blue came back into power.

That particular power struggle had been met with oddly brutal violence from Red supporters. Again, Simmons thought it had more to do with some kind of economic deal with other regions still controlled by Red than any actual loyalty to a country that seemed now more symbolic than anything real.

Still, that particular string of violence had resulted in his parents' deaths.

The redhead hadn't exactly had a happy home life beforehand. His mother had tried, but his father? Well, he was distant most days, and terrifying on others. Truthfully, Simmons hadn't really wanted much for anything though beyond perhaps an active social life given his overprotective mother's tendencies to shelter him. His life back then never felt more than just empty and unfulfilling a lot of the time.

After their deaths, Simmons found himself not being in a home anymore, and with no family to speak of who cared about what happened to him. Whatever money his parents had left for him had been snatched up by so-called relatives he had never met before who pretended he didn't exist and left him out on the street.

He found himself suddenly more alone than before, with absolutely no idea of what to do.

To make a long story exceedingly short, he had found his way into the military a little while later in a neighboring region.

Red or Blue. It didn't matter to the soldiers really either given how quickly banners changed. Sarge always had a preference for Red though, and bemoaned whenever they were stuck serving under Blue until the inevitable switch occurred again.

It was honestly ridiculous, how things had carried on. But, as Carolina had once said, the whole planet had become so adapted to a never-ending conflict that they were too preoccupied waging it to see how flawed and insane their way of living had become.

Most people at some point or another served in the military given that, or their livelihood more than likely somehow stemmed from it. They didn't really know of any other way to live given how ongoing, how constant it was.

But, it hadn't been all bad. Not really.

Simmons had ended up in a mismatched military unit that he thought for sure he would hate at first, but instead they had become the family and friends he had never really had growing up.

He was still oddly grateful for that, if nothing else.

Then the war simply stopped. Simmons wasn't sure exactly what had happened there. Truthfully, no one knew. Fuck, most people hadn't even known there were actual people in charge of the nations as they assumed any leaders were just symbolic footnotes by that point. The whole thing had seemed like a pipe dream at first.

When the surprise ceasefire had occurred and whatever shadowy organizations that had been in control of Red and Blue dissolved to allow everyone to fend for themselves, their group had opted to all stay together since none of them had any ideas on where to go from there or what to do. Nor did any of them seem to have any places they wanted to return to.

Eventually, they'd found themselves at Chorus.

It was one of the few regions that had opened its doors to outsiders following all of them being left to fend for themselves with the two countries gone, in exchange for helping the region rebuild in the aftermath of the war. The welcome mat at Chorus was even extended to genetically engineered people, of which their unit had a few.

Their group hadn't left since then, even if it was still a bit hard settling into a more peaceful way of life.

Simmons glanced about the debris pushed to the sides of the streets and walkways. It had remained there long enough for flowers to begin growing through the cracks. His gaze wandered to abandoned buildings, and ones that were only recently rebuilt and getting back to use.

The cyborg's vision went off into the distance, towards the energy shielding set up to protect the city that was still very slowly getting back on its feet years after the ceasefire.

They still had more than enough to do before any of this felt remotely "normal," but it was progressing all the same.

By the time Simmons had reached the barracks-turned-apartment complex, the redhead was wondering what exactly he would say if he ran into Grif here instead of Tucker finding him first. He contemplated the scenario as he walked up the five flights of stairs to reach his destination.

On the fifth floor hallway, he paused at the all-too familiar door that was only a few ones down from his own small apartment, wondering if he should knock or just enter in the key code.

He knew Kaikaina Grif was out, continuing her medic training at the hospital. Having grown up with constant fighting around her and often looked after by their resident pacifist medic in purple, it was no wonder the girl didn't seem as keen on becoming a soldier like her brother.

So, that meant it would only be Grif in there. He'd be possibly hung over given his plans for earlier, or…

Sleeping soundly after having gone through an episode of "release."

It was that thought that gave Simmons pause as he debated his options. Well, that and the fact that he had to remember again how he had lied earlier about having to work through the night and into the early morning hours. It usually took him a few seconds to school his thoughts around fibs.

The cyborg had known there was a good possibility of that in particular when Grif had asked him to go out with him earlier, thus the need he had felt to lie.

Grif's face had looked rather flushed despite his dark skin tone then, and he had seemed oddly antsy for him. Both of which were telltale signs that the "fire" in his veins had started building up to the point where he would have to find a way to release it before he became physically sick.

Growing up, Simmons had always heard about how there had been genetically engineered people who had not been created solely for war, though the instances where he would have met any of them given his more isolated upbringing were few and far between back then.

Genetically engineered people had been used to replace the dwindling population of naturally born citizens, to work the jobs that were less than desirable. That was even why, more often than not, the ones that had been created to serve in either the military or mercenary units were often considered more "disposable" than their peers.

Simmons had known that genetically engineered people were often "tailored" to have specific skills or strengths too, such as Caboose's immense strength or Washington's quick ability to improvise.

He had also known that one of those "professions" had included the entertainment industry, for lack of a better term that wouldn't make him blush bright red when even thinking about it. But, he hadn't known about the touch reactivity that had been built into those particular "batches" of artificially created humans to make them more responsive.

At least, not until he'd met Dexter Grif.

Likewise, Simmons hadn't even realized that genetically engineered people were actually often only left in their birthing tanks until infancy or toddler age. Not until he had seen the then ten-year-old Kai clutching her brother's hand when they had been first introduced to everyone.

People tried glossing over that fact, most likely to make it seem less disturbing in general though the whole thing crossed all sorts of ethical lines no matter how others tried justifying it.

Coming face-to-face with that knowledge had been unnerving, to say the least.

Another thing that the Simmons from back then would have never even suspected could have happened at all either?

Falling in love with Grif over the course of a several years-long friendship.

Over the years that they had gotten to know each other, the redhead had of course started to suspect it at times. However, that particular knowledge was cemented completely following one "night out on the town" due to a stupid impulse Simmons had gotten after having more alcohol than he probably should have. He had just wanted to see what would happen if he reached out and touched Grif's bare shoulder like he'd always wanted to, and then there were those subsequent hours in the shade and one hell of an awkward aftermath…

Shows what little the cyborg supposed he had always known, no matter how much he might try to claim otherwise.

Truthfully, Simmons hadn't hated what had happened between them back then. Quite the opposite, really. It was embarrassing to admit how often he would relive it in his head when he had moments to himself.

But, he hadn't been at all sure of how to react afterwards since he had never done anything like that before, and Grif had seemed so odd following it too. His friend would be awkward and distant one second, then he'd try to act like it hadn't really been a big deal the next.

Not too surprisingly, things had gotten complicated.

Even more-so after the redhead had gotten seriously injured and became augmented with cybernetics in order to prevent his death.

Honestly, following that one night, Simmons had meant to work up the nerve to talk to Grif and figure things out, even if the thought of remotely doing so had scared the shit out of him and made him want to puke. But suddenly becoming a cyborg, a "less than human" reminder of the fighting that they were constantly living through? In his mind, it had put a complete stop to having that talk.

If there had been any chance that Grif had perhaps reciprocated his feelings back then, how he looked following the cybernetics probably nixed the deal completely.

So, Simmons had done the only thing he thought he could do. He tried to act as if it had never happened in the first place, and just went on with the status quo. That way, he was keeping a relationship he'd come to value and rely on safe, even if he secretly wanted so much more from it.

His main strategy for doing so was completely avoiding nights on the town where it was just going to be him and Grif, particularly when he knew Grif was most likely close to needing "release." Along with always pretending Simmons had gotten a message of utmost importance that he really needed to go take care of if he ever even suspected that Grif was contemplating bringing up the topic himself.

Simmons honestly felt guilty about it in a lot of ways. Particularly since he wasn't blind to the hurt that would flash across Grif's face before the other would school it into his usual apathetic and bored expression as they fell again to a friendly routine with a "Well, maybe next time then." That was then always followed by Simmons' usually way too fake cheery "Oh, yeah! Definitely."

But, the cyborg also knew he was playing it safe in order to keep their relationship as it was and not ruin it. He kept trying to convince himself it was probably best for the both of them in the long run. Still, seeing the aftermath of whenever Grif had obviously gone and gotten "release" wasn't easy, even if he knew well enough by now that Grif wasn't equating emotions at all to it.

…He'd wanted both that and emotion with Grif, so it wasn't fair for Simmons to feel hurt over his own decision now.

He just had to keep telling himself it was for the best and carry on with being just friends. Which probably meant that the redhead shouldn't just be staring at a door contemplating this shit for the millionth time in his mind until he could at least partially agree to his decision again, shouldn't it?

Sighing, Simmons entered in the passcode, knowing if Grif was in a deep sleep or passed out he wouldn't hear a knock. He'd memorized the Grif siblings' code by heart along with his own given how often he had to practically drag Grif out of bed.

Besides, even if he was conscious, there was a really high likelihood that Grif wouldn't answer the door anyways if he was really feeling lazy. Which happened often. Simmons had lost count of how many times he would have to sign for Grif's mail and stuff given that.

The door opened quickly, darkness from the shading activated on the windows currently enveloping the piles of junk strewn about everywhere. The Grif siblings must have cleaned recently on account of that inexplicable rabbit problem they'd had. There was a refreshing lack of any subtle sort of smells to tickle the nostrils in terrifying new ways.

He could hear a beeping noise coming from a junk heap in the far corner of the apartment. Once his night vision activated, Simmons could make out that the sound was from the orange helmet resting on top of it. It was most likely the message that Sarge had asked Sheila to send earlier.

So, it didn't look like Grif had come here to crash or anything else after all.

The cyborg sighed, figuring he would check his apartment next. Similarly to Simmons, Grif also knew his teammate's passcode. He would sometimes crash at Simmons' if Kai was having a friend over or something.

Often enough, those visits would be completely unannounced too. Simmons would come home from work to find his friend passed out on his couch, or he would find the chubby man in that very same position some mornings when he woke up. Grif could be oddly stealthy when he wanted to be.

Grif could have possibly gone there if it had been really late by the time he had gotten back and he didn't want to wake Kai up. Similar to how her brother acted if you disturbed his rest time, the younger sister could be more than just a wee bit cranky if her sleep was disturbed.

It was worth a shot, anyways.

Entering his own passcode, Simmons stepped into his smaller, not really decorated apartment. Even with as many years as they had been there now, he hadn't found the time to really look around for extra décor due to the sheer amount of work they always had to do. Donut had offered to help him redecorate a few times, but he usually tried to change the subject quickly to avoid having to decline due to differentiating style tastes when it came to home décor.

He took another step with the beginnings of a "Hey, fat-ass!" forming on his lips that died away the second he processed three things in quick succession.

One: the shower was running in the bathroom, so someone was in there.

Two: the sheets on his bed were not perfectly arranged as he had left them the other day, but were all over the floor of his bedroom.

Three: between both bathroom and bed stood an incredibly tall, statuesque woman around his age of thirty-two who was currently in the process of putting the long strands of her brown hair into pigtails.

She glanced over at him gaping at her with mild amusement as she finished doing so, "Oh, hello! This must be your apartment, I take it?" The brunette glanced around the space for a moment as she continued greeting Simmons as if a total stranger being in his home was a common occurrence, "I figured it wasn't Grif's since he's so messy."

"Um…" Simmons blinked, still slow to process what was going on.

The woman smiled brightly and walked over to the redhead, holding out a hand for him to shake. She looked rather familiar in her jeans and shirt, as if he had seen her out of the corner of his eye a few times around the city but couldn't quite place where.

"My name's Cass." She was still speaking cordially since Simmons' brain was refusing to function enough to let him get out any proper sentences, "Sorry for the mess!"

She was glancing behind her just then at the bed.

The shower had stopped at this point, and a moment later Grif had stepped out of the bathroom while looking oddly sated given his appearance the night before.

"Hey, Cass—!" Grif stopped abruptly at seeing Simmons there, suddenly looking rather sheepish and more than just a tad guilty, "Simmons. I thought you had work."

That moment was when Simmons finally put two-and-two together about what had happened here.

"Tucker is looking for you." He mumbled, cursing himself for his voice sounding so small just then.

Grif swore, his flash of guilt at having his episode of "release" in a friend's apartment momentarily forgotten, "Fuck. I bet that means there's a mission, huh?"

Simmons nodded mutely, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face and failing miserably. He felt, and no doubt looked, a lot like a kicked puppy at the moment.

Cass, however, was staring at Simmons with a suddenly eager gaze. The smile that had been on her face before spreading even wider across her features.

"So, you're the infamous Simmons that Grif keeps going on about!" She gushed, grabbing his hand in her surprisingly strong grip and giving it a friendly squeeze, "Now I have a face to go with the name he's always crying out!"

That caused his brain to all but short-circuit once more. He could see Grif looking sheepish once again out of the corner of his eyes.

"Er…" Simmons paused, took a moment, and started again, "Come again?"

She glanced questioningly from him to Grif before opening her mouth to respond. Suddenly Grif was there, grabbing onto her arm.

"All right, Cass! Don't you need to get back to the bar for inventory checking or something?" Grif asked her, but the tone of his voice and the expression he wore just then was almost oddly pleading for him.

Understanding dawned in her blue eyes then, and she shot a sympathetic look back at Simmons before giving his hand another reassuring squeeze as she did so.

"Right. I'd forgotten I needed to do that." She looked down at the purse at her side, a beige apron sticking out of it.

Simmons remembered why she looked familiar now. Cass was the owner of a bar they had been to before. He knew the bigger partiers of their group went there quite a few times, but he'd only ever been on the occasional outing.

She leaned over and gave Grif a kiss on the cheek. Simmons noticed it was affectionate, but in an oddly friendly way instead of anything that had a lot of heat to it.

Grif didn't even visibly react to it like he would most touches.

"Call me again if you get desperate. I am not dragging your grown-ass out of my bar again because you refuse to take proper care of yourself." She chided him in a way that was very akin to sisterly.

Cass turned to Simmons then and, to his surprise, did the same thing to his still flesh and blood cheek, "Maybe you should try calling me too if you get desperate." She told him teasingly when she pulled away, noticing his face reddening slightly.

"Um—!" he was blushing like mad now, which had her smiling even more.

"That might be hard for him to do, considering he can't even talk to most girls." Grif joked just then, though there was an odd tone to his voice that Simmons couldn't quite place.

Cass rolled her eyes before Simmons could even get out an indignant retort to cover up his hurt, "Like you're one to talk, Grif. Kai only hangs out with you because you're related to her, and you're pretty damn lucky I'm generous enough to call you a friend."

She patted Simmons' shoulder reassuringly, "It was nice to finally meet you, Simmons." She told him, moving past him to get to the door, "Drop by the bar more with this one and your other friends. Maybe I'll give you that fabled drink discount Grif always hounds me for."

"Hey!"

She ignored Grif's protest, pausing just before reaching the door to lean over so that her mouth was closer to the cyborg's ear, "Try to be patient, if you can." She whispered conspiratorially to him, "He doesn't mean to be, but the man's an idiot when it comes to this kind of stuff."

As Cass walked out of the apartment, Simmons was still trying to process what she had meant by that. Grif looked at him guiltily again, now that it was just the two of them standing there awkwardly.

The tan man cleared his throat, "So—"

Just like that, Simmons remembered what he should be feeling in this situation, even as just a friend.

"What the actual fuck, Grif?!" He screeched, "You had sex in my bed!"

Regardless of the medical need for his friend to do so and the very much platonic display Simmons had just witnessed between Grif and Cass, that was still brain-breaking on way too many levels even without taking into account his own feelings for the other man.

Grif took on a defensive stance at his tone, even though it was obvious by how he had been acting up until now that he knew he had been in the wrong, "Well, at least someone did!" He shouted back, "When was the last time you even had sex, Simmons?"

Simmons was about to retort that was beside the point when Grif's question inadvertently brought his mind back to said last time unbidden.

His thoughts drifting to literal hours in the shade and…

The redhead's face was heating up horribly at that point, and he glanced up after realizing that Grif had suddenly gone quiet too. He was surprised to see the darkening signs of a blush on his friend's tan face as well as he stared at Simmons with a very odd and rather unreadable expression plastered on his facial features.

Simmons recovered first somehow, coughing awkwardly to cover up the sudden drop in yelling, "Regardless, I have to spend my time off fucking cleaning my sheets because of you."

He would have wanted to maybe nap a little. Especially considering how he'd only slept for a few hours in the breakroom earlier and that had been interrupted when Donut found him there, chiding him on account of how bad that was for his skin.

Now, because Grif was an idiot, that time would be spent cleaning and trying really hard to not feel certain things or imagine stuff that would never happen.

An inner part of Simmons said some of that was his fault too given how things had played out earlier, but he quickly told that part to shove it.

"I—" Grif looked horribly, uncharacteristically awkward, as if he was just about to say something more when the door opened again and Tucker suddenly burst into the room.

Simmons tensed, having forgotten that Tucker said he would be coming back to the apartments if he hadn't found Grif yet.

"Hey! Was that Cass I saw just now?" He asked, whistling, "She is looking as hot as ever."

Tucker paused in light of the two men in Simmons' apartment who were now glaring at his intrusion, "What?"

Simmons sighed, moving over to his bed to start stripping it, his anger deflating a little due to Tucker's interruption, "Just go and get your armor on, fat-ass." He told Grif quietly, "You should be good to go now, and you shouldn't keep Kimball waiting."

Grif looked as if he was about to argue. But, with Simmons pointedly ignoring him following his statement and the realization beginning to dawn slowly on Tucker's face as he started piecing together the events he'd missed out on, he simply sighed and left.

Tucker frowned, staring at the closed door for a moment before turning to regard Simmons.

"I know that was a really dumbass thing for even a dumbass like Grif to do," he began finally, looking horribly awkward to even be having this type of conversation with the redhead in the first place, "But you have nothing to worry about."

Simmons refused to look at the dark-skinned man just then. If he just kept going through mindless chores, maybe he could distract himself from all of the hurt still roiling around inside of him and his own insecurities.

"Cass is an ex-girlfriend of Grif's, yeah, but that was way back when they were kids practically and it didn't even last for more than two months from what they've said." Tucker took Simmons' silence as a sign that he could elaborate, "She moved here to Chorus before he'd even joined the army, was married to one of Kimball's predecessors before he got himself killed."

Simmons frowned. He had recalled actually seeing a gold ring on a chain around her neck before, but his mind had been so frazzled at what Cass being there had meant that he hadn't put together what the ring had actually been for. The cyborg wasn't sure why Tucker was deciding to explain all of this to him either.

"She offered to help him out as long as they were both single whenever he needs "release" because they're friends. But, trust me, neither of them feel anything romantic for the other anymore."

Simmons thought back to the earlier interaction he had seen between the two of them, but continued saying nothing as he grabbed at sheets.

"If the age thing didn't weird her out, I'm pretty sure she would have offered the same deal to Kai now that she's legal just because she knows what their whole deal does to their bodies."

The redhead frowned even more at that comment, remembering that he had volunteered something similar to Grif once a long time ago.

Obviously not for Kai, but a few years back Simmons had offered to do the same thing Cass did in order to help the older Grif when he'd found out about his situation, as horribly and embarrassingly awkward as that had been for him to do. So, why hadn't Grif accepted his offer back then?

Fuck it! Why had Grif acted like nothing big had even happened after that one time they had together?

"So, you don't have anything to worry about there." Tucker was concluding whatever point he was trying to make with his explanation, "It's basically a medical thing, man."

Simmons swore he heard Tucker add in a muttered "a fucking awesome medical thing" but didn't dwell on it. He doubted Tucker actually meant that anyways considering he knew about the less-than-ideal negative side effects Grif and Kai's condition gave them. He just liked talking rather big when it came to any matters involving sex.

Instead, the cyborg bit down on his feelings once again and managed to choke out, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Tucker."

"Uh-huh." The sarcasm was practically dripping from Tucker's voice, "Sure you don't."

He didn't even have to look up to know that Tucker was giving him one of his "you are fucking bullshitting me!" looks. Simmons tried focusing on cleaning instead, hoping his friend would take the hint and drop the conversation completely.

Right now, he was inwardly debating whether or not he should even bother cleaning the sheets or just burn his bed outright.

As soon as the door to Simmons' apartment closed behind him, Grif let out a large sigh and leaned heavily against it.

Yeah, he had pretty much fucked that up majorly, even if a night out drinking and getting to the point where he had started feeling like he was being boiled alive hadn't helped matters much. Neither of those two things usually resulted in him acting with a clear mind.

In all honesty, Grif had long since accepted the defect in his body. Technically, it was called an "enhancement." But, that was just some asshole's way of trying to justify shit that shouldn't be justified in the first place.

He dealt with it in the same way he dealt with pretty much anything he thought gave him extra work, mainly by ignoring it until he couldn't anymore.

Which totally explained the pile of underwear that had become a tree in the middle of their barracks way back when. It had ended up being a double bonus for him that Donut and Doc had both been thrilled by it from a decorating and "environment boosting" stance, and he had gotten out of having to do at least one load of laundry.

Getting "release" by that buildup point was pretty easy too. Fuck, most of the time someone simply touching him enough would put him over the edge. Actually, that had kind of been the case with things last night too. Fuck it if he was going to really debate the finer points though when someone was justifiably mad at him, but also yelling to the point his ears could bleed.

The truth was that there was no real emotional process with it at all. Cass was just a friend who knew about the things he went through because of his genetic engineering, so she didn't judge the situation like others might. Having her help was not only just safer in the long run, but also more convenient.

Grif knew she wouldn't carry it any farther than he wanted it to go, even when he'd reached the point of almost mindlessness due to overstimulation. But, still, doing that in Simmons' room even if his friend also understood the situation was…

He ran a hand through his black hair and groaned.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he had felt the urge to do that. But, then again, Grif wasn't in the best mindset last night following yet another rejection by Simmons after he had asked him to go out with him. All that had done was cause the redhead to start running around in his head again with a vengeance.

Not that the cyborg wasn't pretty much always there anyways, these days. But, things like that always made it harder to push all of the sentiment and feelings Grif had for the other soldier back down in order to act like they weren't always present.

Cass hadn't been wrong with saying it was always Simmons he called out for in those moments, though he sure as fuck wished she hadn't said it to the giant nerd just like that!

Still, last night, being there in the redhead's apartment had just sort of intensified that longing about tenfold more than normal. In his fevered state of mind, he hadn't been there with Cass last night. No, rather in his haze, he had been with Simmons instead.

Honestly, it was always Simmons nowadays.

Too bad his friend had been actively avoiding discussing all of this sentimental crap that had been brewing between them for years ever since that one time.

Too bad he was too afraid of really pushing the issue on the chance that he'd scare the stupid cyborg out of his life for good if he pressed too much.

Too bad Grif was such a fucking dumbass that he kept doing shit like he did last night that made things about fifty times even more complicated, and all just because he wasn't great at dealing with this level of deep feelings in general.

Now Simmons was going to be pissed at him, admittedly not without a valid reason, and would probably avoid talking to him even more.

Also, Cass was going to give him an earful for being a moron the next time he went drinking to boot. Kai probably would as well if she told his sister about the incident, and Tucker most likely would be too.

Grif was debating going back in to help clean up at least since he knew he had royally messed up, but Tucker was still in there and he wasn't sure he wanted him making his usual "love drama" commentary in front of Simmons just now.

It was bad enough that Cass had done it, but he was fairly certain the poor guy's mind had been so short-circuited at that point that Simmons hadn't really picked up on it. Now, the cyborg was no doubt over-thinking everything like the dork he was and would be hyper-aware of any and all commentary. Since he really didn't seem to want stuff with Grif going in that direction, the tan-skinned man wasn't going to push it.

Besides, he should get changed into his armor. Simmons would bitch even more if he shirked his duties again. Plus, if he was going to help clean he'd have to open the door to Simmons' apartment again and suddenly he just didn't have the energy for that.

He'd figure out some other way to make things better. One that preferably did not involve cleaning anything.

Reluctantly, Grif walked the expansive, taunting few meters to his own apartment and opened it, turning off the shading in the windows so that light would pour through the space. Kai usually always forgot to turn them off before she left in the morning.

His space was somewhat larger than Simmons' because Kai also lived there, just like how Tucker's place was a bit larger too on account of Junior. But, you couldn't really tell that due to the messy state the Grif siblings' place was always in.

Surprisingly, they had gotten slightly better with maintaining the space due to the constant nagging over health and hygiene concerns from their friends, but neither Kai nor Grif were too keen on tidying up often.

He made his way over to his armor and began the laborious process of putting it on after removing the empty candy wrappers from it. Grif reached for the beeping orange helmet last.

There was a message from Sheila, but it was about how Tucker had been looking for him. So, he shot a quick reply back just to let the conscientious robot know he'd met up with both him and Simmons before tucking the helmet underneath his arm.

He left a message pad on Kai's bed saying that he would be on a mission in case she came home. It was hard to tell anymore with his younger sister if she would crash here or not on any given day, especially now that she was twenty-two and tasting freedom in the relative peace of living in Chorus. As long as she didn't mention orgies or anything like that again, he was trying to give her a bit more control for once in her life. After leaving the message pad, Grif decided it was time to head back out.

Tucker, changed now into his armor as well, was waiting for him at the lift.

"Dude, you are so fucked." His friend remarked without any preamble the second he saw Grif approaching, "That was really fucked up."

"Shut up, Tucker." Grif muttered, giving him the finger as the lift lowered them once more to ground level.

"I know that things have been majorly weird for the two of you since that one time, but using Simmons' apartment for your "release" stuff is not going to make things any easier in the long run." He told Grif as they hurried back through Chorus proper to the Armonia district where most of the military and medical facilities were located.

"You think I don't know that?" The orange-armored man rolled his eyes at the rather big statement of the obvious.

"Well, evidently knowing it and avoiding it are two very different things for you." Tucker shot back quickly, but seeing the deepening frown on Grif's face, he relented slightly, "It might just be easier if you told him how you felt, dude."

Things must be either majorly obvious or horribly bleak if Lavernius Tucker of all people was attempting to give him romance advice.

Grif bit down on the urge to shoot back something about Tucker's less-than-stellar track record in that department. Or how blatantly in denial he was still about his growing feelings for a certain paranoid blond Freelancer, but he resisted the urge.

Even if it was oh-so-tempting at present.

"I'll apologize later." He told Tucker instead.

Simmons would mope for a little while, yes. But, then the redhead would get over it and things would get back to as close to "normal" as they got with the two of them now, what with Simmons avoiding him when it came to hanging out alone for too long and all.

Grif wasn't sure if he was particularly thrilled at that prospect either, but he supposed it was better than nothing.

"Junior's hanging out with the others." Tucker remarked casually, sensing Grif's still pensive mood and wanting to change the subject, "Hopefully he won't cause too much trouble."

"Isn't it the other way around, usually?" Grif took the bait, grateful for the distraction it provided, "Remember that time Sarge figured he should learn how to use a flamethrower "just in case"? Or that time when Doctor Grey decided to test out her talk about where babies come from on him and Caboose?"

Tucker shuddered at the recollection, "Don't remind me! Though Caboose was the only one who got nightmares from it."

"Oh, and Church ended up giving the two of them coffee." Grif remembered.

"That was only once and, trust me, I don't think he'd ever make that mistake again." Tucker joked. That memory, while nightmarish at the time due to a hyperactive child and teammate, was a rather fun one now in a vindictive sort of way towards their grumpy comrade, "Trying to calm Junior down had been bad enough for Church, but I think Caboose literally climbing onto the ceiling just about did him in."

"Odds are good there will be no fires, questionable discussions about babies and changing bodies, or caffeine this time around." Grif noted, "So, there's probably nothing you have to worry about then."

"At least once Simmons gets back all of the others will be there to counter their crazy." Tucker added, relieved since everyone else tended to be a little more grounded in their approach to babysitting.

Grif frowned, "I thought Simmons was off now because he had to work last night."

"No, that was an extra shift or something." Tucker replied as they stopped in front of the former military headquarters where they were often briefed at, "Sarge did give him some hours off because of that, but I am pretty sure he's going back today for his regular shift."

So, Grif's suspicion that Simmons had actually been purposely avoiding hanging out with him last night was pretty much confirmed then. He wasn't sure why he felt surprised about that kind of thing anymore, or why it hurt as much as it did still.

Tucker paused, noticing the frown once again deepening across his friend's face, "Is something wrong?"

Ever since his cybernetic surgery in particular, Simmons had become even more awkward than usual and had even started avoiding him more. If Grif were being honest, he knew it had happened a little bit before then too, but it had definitely become even more noticeable since then.

He wondered if it was because a part of Simmons blamed Grif for being the one who had insisted on performing the cybernetic surgery to the others, back when Simmons was unconscious and dying and didn't really get to have a say in the matter.

Even though making Simmons a cyborg had been the only thing they could do to save his life, it was a big change for someone to have to accept. The redhead had always been extremely self-conscious even before then, so he knew that the cybernetics probably weren't helping in that regard.

It majorly sucked still if that was in fact the reason for why the cyborg was avoiding Grif, but at least he could be grateful Simmons hadn't shut him out completely yet.

"No, it's nothing." Grif told Tucker before putting on his helmet, the display screens flaring to life once he sealed it on, "Let's just get this over with."

Tucker looked as if he wanted to say something else. Ultimately though he just nodded in reply before doing the same with his own helmet as the two stepped inside the facility.

"You're both late."

Of all of the people Grif had figured might be waiting for them in the briefing room, former Freelancer agent Carolina was definitely not one of them.

Usually, if a Freelancer was to be present it tended to be Washington as he had slightly more patience for their shenanigans. But Grif had forgotten that he was busier these days trying to train the new recruits.

Normally Vanessa Kimball, the military leader of Chorus as well as the first leader of any region that was a genetically engineered person, would be there too. However, the dark-skinned woman was nowhere to be seen either, leaving just the scowling Carolina in view. Well, along with three other people.

Donald Doyle, the more administrative leader of the region, was also present. Basically, he did the type of work that would probably bore the crap out of Grif, but would more than likely be right up someone like Simmons' alley.

The graying blond was standing behind Carolina rather awkwardly, probably scared that she would turn the smoldering look she was currently giving the two tardy men on to him in a second's notice for some comment he hadn't intended offense by. The poor guy suffered a bit from foot-in-the-mouth when it came to interacting with people.

Nearby Doyle were two newcomers in steel armor, one with orange trim and the other with green.

"Sorry about that, Carolina!" Tucker was nervous under her glare and let out an awkward sort of laugh, "We had to deal with a domestic squabble between Grif here and his husband of who-knows-how-long by this point."

Grif oh-so-subtly shoved him hard in the shoulder, causing Tucker to stumble and shoot a glare through his visor back at him.

Normally, either Carolina or Doyle might inquire about that comment further just for amusement's sake, but the redhead didn't even raise an eyebrow at their antics and Doyle still looked rather nervous. Carolina's expression was a distrusting one as she glanced over at the two strangers in their midst, and that alone proved how seriously she was taking whatever situation it was they must represent.

"Caboose is already at the checkpoint." She stated as she turned back to Grif and Tucker without any kind of preamble, "We should head out."

The friends glanced at each other questioningly.

The survey information that Grif had just read up on as they were walking to the briefing room had said that the site in question didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, so the mission was going to most likely be a very routine run.

Why Carolina was tagging along given that was more than just a little worrisome. It definitely gave them the impression they were more than just a little out of the loop currently.

"Shouldn't you be introducing us first?" The man with the steel and orange armor asked, his brown eyes looking between the three with mild amusement, "It's only the polite thing to do considering we'll be working together."

"Come again?" Tucker asked, thoroughly confused by this point.

"Oh, quite right! Apologies for my lack of manners just then." Doyle, who had been very visibly on edge after having been stuck in a confined space with a tense Carolina and these two new armored figures, dipped his head quickly in their direction, "These two are Felix and Locus." He stated, "They are from a group of mercenaries who arrived last evening in Chorus seeking employment."

"Sweet." Tucker nodded his head approvingly, "Usually the only mercs we have around here are the ones trying to steal shit out on the field."

The two men glanced at each other.

"Yes, well, times are pretty hard out there right now for everyone." Felix said quickly, "Chorus has been gaining quite the reputation for tech and stability. You can't really blame people for wanting a bit of that themselves."

Carolina looked as if she was about to interject something then, her green eyes turning even more steely than usual.

Felix continued on as if he hadn't seen her reaction at all, and Grif couldn't tell if that was a smart move or a really stupid one given how extreme some of Carolina's responses could be if she felt insulted, "Our group is just smart enough to know if we help maintain and build up that stellar reputation you guys have, we could get a bit more money and benefits out of the deal."

"We do need all the extra help we can get." Grif added in, rather relieved at the prospect himself.

Everyone was stretched pretty thin in the rebuilding effort. Several extra, capable, and actually experienced hands were always welcome additions in his book. Especially if it might mean the possibility of less work for him in the long run.

"Right." Doyle nodded his head in agreement, "Miss Kimball is actually showing the rest of their group to places where we are in most need of further assistance as we speak."

So that explained her absence then. It made sense given that Kimball liked to oversee as much of what was going on in Chorus as possible. She no doubt trusted Carolina enough to be her eyes here.

"Felix and Locus, however, heard about the salvaging mission and wanted to see how they generally operate for future fieldwork." Doyle continued to inform them.

Felix stepped forward then, Locus remaining a silent and, Grif was man enough to admit it, intimidating presence at his back. The mercenary smiled as he walked, and the expression seemed to go all the way up to the black hair that was spiking up on top of his head.

"We're really looking forward to working with you."

Author's Notes: Something tells me Tucker and Grif are going to be changing their minds a bit later on in the story about having that extra help. XD

This is first chapter to the multi-chapter fic I will be writing once I am finished with "Above Ground". Apparently, I can't NOT write odd AUs for this fandom when I write lengthier stories. Or without Grif and Simmons being the main characters (as well as morons for the sake of drama!). There will be some other character POVs in later chapters though. As far as head canons for how the characters look here, continuing with the "Above Ground" ones since that's how I picture them in my head (except Junior in this story). Basically, I'll be using this story to explore different sci-fi tropes I've been curious about writing. So, hopefully it'll be interesting!

Actually, planning on this being the main story of a series called "The opposite of war is…" (Saga reference, yay!). The fic-verse will be explored further in prequels which will also likely feature many of the Freelancer characters who won't be making too many appearances in the main plot for reasons that will be obvious later, and there will be side-stories too. This is the first time I've even attempted to do an actual fic series, so I'm looking forward to trying it out!

For those wondering: Cass is technically not an original character, but definitely more of a really minor RvB one. She's actually the ex-girlfriend that Grif had told Tucker about during the Recollections story arc in the actual series. I just ended up fleshing that character concept out more in this fic for story purposes, so I needed her to have a name, haha! She and Grif are not a pairing in any way, shape, or form but rather just really good friends who are almost like family (will be actually going into their story later in a prequel), so no worries about love triangle drama here! Actually, she will be getting into a romance of her own later on since I sort of felt bad that I ended up giving her a bit of a tragic past with being a widow and everything. Randomly: my head canon for Cass is that she looks very similar to Cheryl from Archer during her Cherlene phase, except with less revealing clothes. XD

Most of the pairings and everything for this (both past and present) I have already figured out, although if anyone has a preference for a Kimball pairing feel free to mention it here! I tend to like a lot of pairings featuring her, so I'm indecisive about which one to do in this fic. But, I also think a pairing dynamic for her might actually be interesting given what her story-line here is!

I do really apologize for this not being the next chapter of "Above Ground" though. I was going through some really odd and chaotic moments during the last month and ended up getting a massive writer's block due to all of that when it came to a very crucial part of the next chapter that I had been building up to for quite a while in the story. Eventually, for my own emotional reasoning, I figured it was best to just step back from the story to brainstorm more for it and figure out where to go from there. Along the way, this fic idea also came into play. I figured since I ended up getting it written quickly because of that, I'd post it as a preview for my next big thing after "AG." Good news is that I have all of the final parts of "AG" wonderfully outlined now and am back to finishing up the part that had put up such a massive roadblock before. So, I will be updating that one next along with perhaps the occasional oneshot here or there if I feel inspired. Should be two "AG" chapters left, MAYBE four because knowing me they will get lengthy. O_O; So, I hope you will not only look forward to the conclusion to "AG," but also what will happen later on in this one! :D