More Than Anything

Grif leaned back against the base and looked up at the sky. God, make Sarge stop talking, make him leave. He wasn’t even listening anymore- hadn’t been for almost an hour. What was Sarge going on about, anyway? Grif glanced over to see that Sarge wasn’t even facing him. He debated sneaking away before remembering that, in the armor, there was no sneaking. So instead he looked back out into the canyon, praying for a distraction.



He saw the glint of a gun before he heard the bullet. It whizzed past him, landing very close to Sarge.



“FUCK!”



Grif recognized that voice. He smiled beneath his helmet and inched to the side, away from Sarge. “You’re a lousy shot!” he called.



Church smirked from the cliff. “Or a perfect one.” He muttered as Sarge shot back. Grif successfully made it away from red base and closer to blue. Church shot a final time before backing away from the cliff edge. He held the sniper rifle tightly in one hand as he raced Grif back to blue base. Grif beat him, but barely.



“Thanks.” Grif said gratefully.



Church shrugged. “You needed it.”



Church removed his helmet, shaking his head. Black hair fluttered around his face before falling flat. Grif chuckled and followed the blue C.O. inside. Caboose was waiting for Church in the kitchen, a plate of mangled cookies in hand. He shyly offered them, but Church hesitated. Grif took his own helmet in hand and took a cookie from the plate. He was pretty certain that they were chocolate chip, but he couldn’t know 100%. Church took that as a challenge and ate on himself. Caboose smiled and pressed the plate into Church’s hand before saying something about finding Tucker. He skipped away from them, and Grif was reminded of Donut.



“He’s been working on these all day.” Church said as they walked into his room.



Grif commented. “They’re better than Donut’s- if you ignore presentation.”



Church laughed and fell back onto his bed. He stared p at the ceiling for a moment before looking down at Grif.



“Will they come looking for you?”



“Are you kidding? They’ll get out the booze.” Grif muttered.



Church shrugged. “I figured.”



Grif tucked his armor beside the bed. Church admired the other soldier’s tanned skin and brown hair briefly before standing and adding his own armor to the pile. Grif stood uncomfortably for a moment. Church looked at him thoughtfully before pulling Grif onto the bed, onto his lap. Grif squirmed, but Church’s heated breath on his shoulder was oddly reassuring. Church rested his head against Grif’s back, arms loosely wrapped around his waist.



“What was he talking about, anyway?” Church asked curiously. “You looked dead from boredom.”



“Honestly? I have no fucking clue.”



Church snorted against Grif’s shoulder as he shifted. He turned his head so that his left cheek pressed against Grif, eyes closed contentedly. Grif flushed red. It had been so long- too long- since anyone had cared. When he had…been with… Sarge, it wasn’t the same. Sarge just didn’t care…



“Don’t think about it.” Church said softly.



“How did you even know-“



“You tense easily.” Church smirked.



Grif muttered. “Hardly my fault.”



Church leaned against the wall, arms sliding from Grif’s lap. Grif turned to face Church slowly.



“What do you want?” Grif reluctantly asked. He had to know, he didn’t want another deal like Sarge, to escape one only to jump into another.



Church looked surprised for a minute. “Nothing.”



Grif was suspicious. “Then what am I doing here?”



“You came here! Don’t fucking blame me if you’d rather be listening to Sarge!” Church spat.



The orange soldier’s pride wouldn’t let him back down.



“Maybe I should be.”



“Maybe.”



Grif went to stand, but then he looked at Church again. He saw the face Church wanted him to see stoic and uncaring.

But he also the one Church was hiding.



“Fuck, man, I’m sorry.”



“I was out of line.” Church admitted.



“Yeah, you were.” Grif smiled.



Church stretched, shirt riding up slightly. Grif tried not to stare at revealed sparse hair, leading south. He blushed as his thoughts followed down. Church lowered his arms, noticing the red tint. A small smile twisted pale lips.



An urgent knock came at the door. “What?” Church growled.

Tucker opened the door. He took a step inside and threw a package into Church’s lap.



“Caboose brought it over from red base.” Tucker said.



“Said Donut gave it to him to give to you.”



Church looked at the package. “Grif? Are these your boxers?”



Grif turned a shade redder. “Yeah. What was Donut doing in my room-“



A noise of embarrassed surprise escaped him as a bottle fell from the orange boxers. Church dropped the boxers onto his lap to examine the bottle. A “Bow chicka bow wow” passed Tucker’s lips before Church even understood.



“Little pink bastard.” Church hissed.



Grif wanted to shrink into a little ball and roll into a hole, never to be seen again. Tucker smiled that damn knowing smile as he walked out the door. Church threw the bottle onto his dresser, tossing the boxers over it. He looked at Grif, trying to smile. Suddenly he laughed, and

Grif thought that perhaps he had lost it. Church doubled over, tears brimming in his eyes.



Church shook his head and wiped the wet from his eyes. “If I had to take a guess, I would think that Tucker’s not the only one that spies through windows.”



Grif slid down onto the floor. “Donut… Why doesn’t that surprise me?”



Church looked out the window to the ever blue sky. Blue eyes seemed to frown for a moment.



“You should probably head back at some point.” He muttered.



“If I have patrol later on…”



“Sure.”



Grif snuck into the base. He made it to his room with no one knowing he was there. At least, he thought so.



“Enjoy yourself, dirtbag?”



Grif turned to see Sarge in the doorway. He smirked and said. “More than I could ever have with you.” So Church and Grif hadn’t really done anything yet, it didn’t matter. He still had enjoyed himself more.



Sarge apparently didn’t like the answer. “They’re blue. We’re red, moron.”



“Not when we take off our armor.” Grif snarled.



That made Sarge stop and think for a moment. Grif tossed his helmet onto the bed. Sarge hadn’t said anything about patrol, so the rest of the armor followed. Grif opened his mouth to say something- anything, he wasn’t quite sure what he meant to say. He forgot as soon as he felt armored hands on his sides.



Sarge’s helmet was gone, Grif noticed. He looked around desperately, there was no way he could overpower the armored man, but there had to be a way to get out of his grip. When the hands slid forward, towards Grif’s crotch,

Grif bucked relentlessly. He could hear Sarge’s quickening breath in his ear, and he remembered that Sarge hadn’t fucked anyone since that last time with Grif, a month ago now.



“Let go of me.” Grif demanded.



“You’re in no position to be givin’ orders, dirtbag.”



Grif went limp as he felt Sarge steadily rub his groin. He willed himself to not enjoy it, for his body to not remember that it had been a month for him, too, after sleeping with someone so often. His eyes went to the window, and a small smile crossed his face. He thought of Tucker and Donut, spying through them, anything but what was happening. His arm jerked back, smacking against red armor. He howled in pain, recoiling as far as he could.

The private whimpered slightly. Sarge turned him around, and Grif stared into unyielding gray eyes. Brown eyes lowered first, unable to meet them anymore. Hands left Grif’s body to undo armor- Grif took his flight. He passed through the open door and flew into the kitchen. He grunted as his left foot met the table. He stumbled, barely catching himself on a chair. The chair skidded away from him, but he was up. Sarge was behind him, catching the chair and returning it to its place. Grif passed the table, wincing in pain. The door was so close- he imagined that he could see the other base and the inhabitants. He wondered if Church was still laying on the bed. He wanted more than anything to be on that bed with him as arms wrapped tightly around him, and he tried to pretend that it was Church. If only this touch wasn’t so familiar, if only it had never happened at all. He could feel the fabric sliding away from his legs.



Grif looked out the door and imagined Church standing there, sniper rifle in hand, even if he was a bad shot.



Instead he saw dirt, dirt and rocks. What was that saying? Between a rock and a hard place? The more Grif thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Except he didn’t have a choice.



Church was bored. Motherfucking bored. He decided to patrol himself, as it was better than nothing. He wandered the caves, not really paying attention to where he was going. He heard voices- Simmons and Donut? He headed towards them, to find both privates sitting on the ground, talking quietly.



“Don’t move.” Church ordered.



Donut squeaked. “Church!”



Simmons merely stayed put and didn’t say anything. “You send the present?” Church asked Donut.

The pink private laughed. “Uh-huh! I figured it would be sooner or later!”



“W-where is he?”



“At the base with Sarge.”



Church froze. Grif. Base. Sarge. Alone. Church’s feet slid on the ground as he took a running turn. If what he thought of the sergeant was true, then he had to hurry up.







Grif was crying for the first time in three years. He curled closer to himself, not caring that he was under the kitchen table, not caring that Simmons and Donut could come back at any time. He couldn’t move away from the floor, not even to his room, to the shower. He wasn’t in pain- Sarge hadn’t even penetrated him. No, but Grif almost wished that he had. That he had done that instead of acting kind, instead of confusing him. Grif had been the only one pleasured, his mess was the only one on the wood above him. And that shamed him the most. Even more than that he had begged for it.



“Grif.”



Oh god, that was Church. Grif didn’t open his eyes. Please, make him go away. Don’t let him see me like this. Oh dear deities above… Grif heard Church kneel beside him, felt his hand on his hair. He heard the table screech as it was lifted away, and a thought wondered if Sarge had heard that and would come in. Instead he felt armor on his naked skin, picking him up like a child. Brown eyes opened to look at the expressionless cobalt helmet. Why was he

here, here now?



“Come on.”



Was that Sarge, a satisfied smirk in place, Grif saw as Church carried him away? It was likely. Church ignored everything on the way back to his base. Grif nearly escaped his arms, but Church didn’t let that happen.



“Stop fucking struggling.” Church muttered.



Grif rested his head on Church’s chest. “What the hell do

you think you’re doing?”



Church said. “What do you think I’m doing, Grif?”



“Humiliating me.”



Church stopped. “No, dumbass.”



He slowly made his way through the base. Grif mumbled darkly as Church slid him into a kitchen chair. Church sat across from him, setting the rifle on the table and tossing his helmet to the side. He blinked as it crashed into the floor. Grif stared at him, unable to believe that he was back already.



“You shouldn’t stand for that sort of thing, you know.” Church said.



The orange soldier whispered. “You don’t fucking understand.”



“Dexter.”



Grif looked up at Church. The blue’s voice was low, threatening. Church frowned, obviously pissed.



“I’m fuckin’ sorry, okay?” Grif screamed. “You think I wanted to?”



Church held up a hand. “I’m not your enemy here. Well, actually, as long as we’re in armor and holding guns, I am. But in here, I’m not, alright?”



Grif slumped. “…Fine, whatever.”



Church stalked out of the room, calling back. “If you don’t want my help, then fine. Go back to Sarge. See if I fucking care!”



Caboose peeked into the room. “Officer Muffin?”



“Donut’s not here, moron.”



Caboose crept into the room and sat in Church’s recently vacated seat. “He wants to help.” He whispered.



Grif said sarcastically. “By kidnapping me. Of course.”



“You could leave if you wanted to.” Caboose said softly.



Grif knew that he was right. He also knew that he wouldn’t. “Caboose, where is Church’s room?”



“I’ll take you to it.”



Grif stood, shedding his armor onto the table. Caboose led him through the hallways into Church’s room. Grif smiled as he realized that his and Church’s room were in the same position in the bases. Caboose looked in and whispered to



Grif. “He’s not in here. Where could he have gone?”



Grif went in and sat on Church’s bed. Caboose hummed as he walked away, with a loud. “Hello, Church!”



Moments later, Church was staring at Grif. “Decided to stay, huh?”



Grif was red. “Um, yeah, obviously.”



The younger of the two uncomfortably stood, looking anywhere but Church. Church took the final step forward, wrapping his arms around Grif. The orange soldier lowered his gaze, returning the embrace tentatively.



“Don’t go back yet.” Church whispered.



Grif shook his head against Church’s chest. “I won’t.”





-T.B.C...?-



Radical Ecstasy, this chapter is for you. ^-^ I wasn't actually planning on continuing this one, not really, but you liked it. I'm glad you liked it, despite not enjoying RvB slash. Another chapter will be worked on when possible. Thanks so much!