A/N: Finally, the brother-fic.

Genre: Humor/Romance

Rating: T

Pairings: Heavy Donut/Caboose, Mentioned Tex/Sarge, and slight, hinted at Simmons/Grif

Summary: It's morning, the blondes are making out, Grif's barely awake, Simmons is amused, and Sarge is doing something important you don't need to be briefed on.

Warnings: Slash, het, mentions of disturbing sexual content, making out, coffee, cursing, hiding.

Regular Morning Rituals and Antics
(At Red Base)

Grif entered the kitchen with a yawn and shake of his head, shaggy brunet locks falling over his tan face. He went immediately to the refrigerator; just like the day before there wasn't much. Grumbling, he poured himself some coffee, added half of the sugar bowl, then went to sit down at the table next to Simmons.

"Good morning, Grif!" Donut greeted, using his high-pitched, cheerful tone that grated said man's ears. Grif only grumbled some half-hearted response, causing both blondes at the table to giggle.

"He's a lot like Church without his coffee," Caboose commented.

"That's because they're both easily addicted to stimulants," Simmons told them, sipping from a cup of orange juice.

The brunet shot him a drowsy glare, though didn't bother making a retort. Instead, he took a gulp of the coffee, relishing the feel of the liquid as it poured into his mouth before cascading down his ready and willing throat.

"Speaking of addictions," Donut said suggestively, running a finger across Caboose's jaw line.

He murmured something only the other blonde could catch before pressing their lips together. Soon the kiss grew more heated, the Red parting his mouth to let Caboose's tongue slip in. As their hands began to grope each other, Grif let out a snort.

"How th' hell do they have 'nuff energy to go at it after fuckin' all night long?" he asked.

"Oh, so I'm not the only one who could hear them. And here I thought I was having a nightmare," Simmons mused. Donut held up his middle finger to his teammates, not breaking his and Caboose's rhythm.

Simmons rolled his green eyes and got up to make another piece of toast. Grif downed the rest of his coffee, and then spent the next thirty seconds trying to will himself to get up and pour himself some more. When he did finally bring himself over to the counter, he slumped up against it and closed his eyes.

"You're pathetic, Grif," he heard Simmons say. Cracking one hazel eye open, he glared at the other man.

"Fuh-sush, mm…" he muttered incoherently. This evoked a chuckle from the freckled man.

"Great job on morning intelligence," he congratulated.

"Mm, jus' shu' up and pour me coffee," Grif commanded semi-understandably, holding out his cup.

"What am I, your wife?"

Regardless of the complaint, Simmons took the cup and refilled it. He even went as far as to put some creamer and sugar in it. Handing the cup back to Grif, he rolled his eyes as the brunet added the rest of the sugar bowl.

"You're going to give yourself diabetes," he warned.

"'Sall a conspiracy by the evil gov'ment," Grif muttered, tossing the sugar bowl carelessly into the sink.

"You mean the same government that you work for?"

"Th' one an' only. Now shu' up an' lead me to the table; my eyes are too tired to stay open."

"What? No, Grif, I'm not-" Simmons attempted to protest. He sighed in resignation as Grif leaned against him, practically half asleep where he was.

"You're lucky I'm a nice person, Grif," Simmons told the other man as he helped him back to the table. The concept evoked another snort from the brunet. Luckily, though, he didn't say anything; it was too damn early to have Simmons drop him on the floor or something.

Simmons sat Grif down, then took his own seat at the table. He put a sliver of butter on his fresh toast and took a savory bite. Grif, meanwhile, was practically conked out again, eyes closed and chin pressing into the wood.

Suddenly, loud footsteps could be heard and a gruff voice called out, "Ev'rybody better be awake in here."

Instantly, Donut broke off his and Caboose's kiss, panic spreading across his face. He quickly shoved the latter under the table, following right after. He clamped a hand over the other blonde's mouth as Sarge walked into the kitchen.

The sergeant raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the room, gaze landing on the table area. "We don't have uh tablecloth ta shield 'em…"

"Sir, it's too damn early for any of us to really give a shit," Grif told him, lifting his head an inch or two. When he was done speaking, it promptly fell back on the hard wood. Simmons rolled his eyes.

"Would you even if it was mid afternoon?"

"Still too early."

"Right. Well, I'm off ta do important things ya'll don't need ta be briefed about. Ah'll be back soon," Sarge announced, turning around and starting to walk out.

"See you, sir," Simmons smirked knowingly. Grif just made an unintelligible mumble, hazel orbs once again shutting.

Caboose wriggled out of Donut's grasp and popped his head over the table, hands latching onto a chair to balance himself. "Say hi to Missus McCrabby for me," he requested cheerfully.

Looking quizzically at the blonde Sarge asked, "Who in the hell is that? Church?" It was Caboose's turn to roll his eyes now.

"No. I am talking about Tex, because you are going to go have alone time with her now," he explained.

"How'd ya know that, son?"

"Please, sir," Donut interjected, finally crawling halfway from under the table. "All of us here have interrupted you guys, plenty of times. Remember that one day when HQ had sent down some whipped cream and-"

"Well, Ah'm off. Don't kill each other. Unless it's Grif ya kill," Sarge quickly changed the subject. As fast as he could, he got out of there. Amused, Simmons turned to the blondes.

"I don't recall that time," he said.

"It's sort of like that time with the candle wax and really kinky and disturbing dirty talk."

"Stop right there, Donut," Simmons shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

He turned to the brunet, curious as to why he hadn't said anything for the past few minutes. He shouldn't have bothered; Grif was fast asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Simmons rolled his eyes and took Grif's coffee. With one hand he sipped the cooling liquid while he used the other to position Grif so he wouldn't bruise anything and complain later.