More Than Anything

If there was one thing Grif hated more than anything, it was being used. For anything. The problem was that, in Blood Gulch, he didn’t often get his way.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Grif mumbled.

But as he said it, he knew he would. In an hour’s time, he’d be back in Sarge’s room, beneath the red C.O. Grif could hear Donut singing in the kitchen and knew dinner was almost done. Grif would eat slowly, putting it off until Sarge became impatient. Donut and Simmons would ignore the entire ordeal. Grif would finish eating, the plate would be washed, and he would be Sarge’s once more.

“Come eat!”

Grif heard Donut’s cheerful call but couldn’t move. He leaned back on his bed and decided not to go.

“Grif?” came the worried voice from outside his door.

“Go away, Donut.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Silence came from outside the door, and Grif thought that he had left, but then the door opened. Donut walked in with a plate of lasagna in one hand.

“We received a shipment earlier.” Donut said as he handed it over. “Finally, they give us cheese! I think I was going through withdrawal.”

Grif cracked a small smile. He sat up and began to eat. And yet Donut just stood there, watching. He waited until the plate was empty before even moving. The first thing he did was yank the plate from Grif and practically throw it onto the dresser.

“What is wrong?” He asked lowly.

Grif narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Donut? What makes you think anything is wrong, anyway?”

Donut gave him a patronizing glance. “Grif, you can’t skip a meal and not expect me to know!”

The orange soldier grumbled but didn’t negate Donut’s words. Donut hesitated before grasping the other’s hand.

“You can tell me.” Donut whispered.

Grif wanted to. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to tell Donut. He was about to when Sarge appeared in the doorway. The older man took in Donut, perched beside Grif, holding his hand. Grif groaned under his breath, but Donut heard it anyway. He stood and ran past Sarge, who merely stood and looked.

“You’re late, dirtbag.”

“No, no I’m not.” Grif muttered. “Because I’m not coming.”

“What’s that, private?”

Grif looked up at Sarge. “I said, I’m not coming, sir.”

Sarge’s eyebrows raised. He watched as Grif stood and walked up to him. Grif reached up to gently kiss the other’s lips. He pulled back an inch, breath caressing the older man.

“This doesn’t do anything for you, does it?” He whispered.

Sarge didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Grif lowered his gaze and pushed past him. He headed past the kitchen, past Simmons and Donut, and out of the base. He knew he wore no armor, but he didn’t care at this point. No gun, no armor, no real life, anyway. What was the point?

He stopped when he reached the caves. Were those footsteps he heard echoing? “Whatever.” He muttered and continued.

“Stop!”

Grif winced. “I was right. Unfortunately.”

Church turned around the corner, sniper rifle held high. “Red. What the fuck are you doing without your armor?”

“It’s none of your goddamned business.”

Church chuckled. “It might make a nice story. Caboose wants a new one every night, you know. I’m running out.”

Grif glared at him. Church smirked and motioned for him to get on his knees. Grif stayed put until he heard the clicking of the rifle. He fell to his knees and Church stepped forward, gun pointed at Grif.

“Go ahead. Shoot me. See if I fucking care.” Grif hissed.

Church paused. “It does sound like a good story.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love to hear it.”

Church stepped back and sat on a rock, gun barely trained on Grif. “Well then, why don’t you tell me?”

Grif muttered. “No way. There is no fucking way this is happening. I am not about to spill my guts to a blue.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know what happened, anyway.” Church shrugged.

“What?!” Grif shrieked.

Church almost laughed. “Hey, you know those windows in the bedrooms? Quite useful to Tucker when-“

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Grif said resignedly. “Just shoot me already.”

Church stood. “Nah. Come on.”

He walked towards blue base. Grif paused before following. If Church wanted him dead, then he would already have done it, Grif thought. The orange man followed the blue through the base to the blue’s room.

“Sit.” Church muttered as he removed his helmet.

Grif looked around the bare room before collapsing onto Church’s bed. He was so tired, so goddamned tired… Church glanced at him and hesitated before removing the rest of his armor.

“You trust me.” Grif said in surprise.

Church smiled. “What are you gonna do? Hit me? I’m not too worried.”

“I could hit you.”

“And then I would shoot you, and besides, Tucker would hear. Thin walls, remember, moron.”

Grif closed his eyes. “What the hell am I doing here?”

Church stopped moving. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I couldn’t leave you, though.”

Grif snorted. “You know, for being an asshole all the time, you’re kinda…”

“Oh, shut up.” Church mumbled.

Grif opened his eyes in time to see Church leaving the room. The door was closed and locked, but Grif didn’t want to go anywhere anyway. He waited about twenty minutes before a wet Church returned.

“Go shower. Tucker and Caboose are done.” Church told him. “You’re not sleeping in here like that.”

Grif did as Church ordered. Church crawled into the bed, moving towards the wall and staying there. He listened to the shower until it stopped, then Grif’s steps.

“Ummm, Church?”

Church rolled over to see Grif in but a towel. “Yeah?”

“I, uh, figured that you wouldn’t want me to put anything dirt-crusted on, but, um…”

Church laughed at Grif’s obvious embarrassment. “Oh, just crawl in.”

Grif blushed, but Church had already rolled back over. The blue was deep in thought. Why had he brought Grif back? He had felt pity, but enough for this? Oh well, what did it matter- he was there now.

Church felt Grif at his back and rolled to face him. Grif looked at him, red-faced. Church breathed out and threw one arm over the younger man. Grif had to admit to himself that he liked it, at least a little bit. He shifted closer to Church’s warm chest. Church was surprised, but didn’t move back.

Sleep fell on the two faster than the two were used to. Morning came just as quickly, a rude awakening coming when Tucker burst into the room.

Church sleepily sat up to see Tucker standing there, wide-mouthed. “Tucker?”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Leave us alone, Tucker. Go feed Caboose.” He muttered.

Tucker shook his head, but went. Church looked down to see Grif curled against him. He leaned down to whisper. “Wake up already.”

Grif made a soft cooing noise in sleep, and Church burst out laughing. This woke up Grif, who sat up in confusion. Church calmed down his laughter in order to tell him just what was so funny. Grif frowned instead of laughing, but Church ruffled his hair and went to stand.

“Listen, you have to go back to your base.” Church said softly.

“Yeah, I know.”

Church headed for the door. He stopped in the doorway and said. “If you want, you can come back tonight. Tucker won’t shoot you.”

Grif smiled. “I’ll see about it.”

As he walked away, he knew he had a new routine for his night.

-END? NOT ANYMORE-
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