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#i could not with simmons being such a supportive boyfriend and grif trying to have him come with so they could be together ☹️☹️
cryo-genics · 1 month
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They're canon, I literally don't care what anyone else says. Grif writes letters to his military boyfriend while kicking his feet and giggling, and Simmons jumps up and down when he gets a new letter.
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rubykgrant · 3 years
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(I can’t stop writing about the idiots in love, so here; have Simmons and Grif being love-struck dorks in what leads-up to them having snuggle time~)
All day long, they couldn’t stop giggling. Even with the armor on, they could tell when they were looking at each other, and that was all it took. They would try to hold back, then wind up choking on their own laughter. Because, despite the helmets hiding their faces, and without saying anything, they could tell they were both thinking the same thing when they looked at each other; That’s my BOYFRIEND. It made them feel light-headed with happiness, weak in the knees, silly and embarrassed, delighted and undeniably fond. They couldn’t stop giggling.
When they weren’t together, they still had their heads in the clouds; Grif was in a noticeably more pleasant mood than usual when he had work to do. Nobody wanted to question it much, however… it might make him realize what was happening, and then he’d fall back into complaining. Simmons seemed distracted. He still managed to get his work done, so that was fine… he just wasn’t paying much attention to what anybody said to him. The people around them shrugged this off and decided to ignore them. Nobody pressed the issue, and nobody knew that Grif and Simmons were now boyfriends.
They passed each other in the hall at one point near the end of the day, both going somewhere else. People weren’t paying attention to him, but if they were, they would have seen Grif visibly BOUNCE up when he saw Simmons (who started grinning inside his helmet).
“Oh hey, Tomato Can!”
“Shut up! What are you, one of those giant cans of pumpkin mix?”
Simmons reached out, playfully smacking at Grif as he walked by, and Grif did the same. In the middle of the smacking, they also grabbed and pulled on each other’s hands briefly. The giggles finally broke free, and they both could hear the laughter fade away the farther they walked. One again, nobody questioned this much. Grif and Simmons acting stupid and laughing was pretty typical behavior. It certainly wasn’t different from how they usually were.
It was several hours later when it was finally time to be done with work for the day (the day, in fact, was mostly over; it was after 9:30 at night). Simmons immediately went to change out of his armor. He carefully put each piece into it’s storage place, and then tried to NOT look like he was rushing off to see Grif back at their room as fast as possible. Normally, he changed out of the undersuit as well, putting on something loose and comfortable to wear as he went back to his room... it used to make him incredibly self-conscious to bee SEEN by other people in something that was so form-fitting. He also used to change out of the armor in a stall, just like he did way back in high school for PE; changing in and out of his gym clothes where nobody could see him, and only showering after all the other kids were gone. Well, finding out somebody was in love with you was a major ego-boost. He could finish changing back in their room, he was more concerned with getting to see his boyfriend than other people seeing him in the halls (also… it didn’t hurt that over the years, muscles had happened. Simmons had no illusions that he was a “totally buff hottie” or something, but he had come to accept that he wasn’t half-bad looking).
They both had different meal-time schedules today, Grif coming into the mess hall just when Simmons was done for both lunch and dinner. They once again teased and nudged as they passed, giggling at what was now an inside-joke; they were together, and nobody here even knew it, nobody here knew what a big deal it was, nobody knew they were in LOVE. Grif hasn’t felt so silly and infatuated like this since he was basically a kid, and for Simmons this is entirely uncharted territory. He’s not worried though, because he’s going on this romantic journey with Grif… as far as Simmons is concerned, that is absolutely perfect.
As he power-walked briskly, Simmons heard the sound of heavy, rushed foot-steps running up the hall behind him. He turned to see who it was, and there was Grif; he’d only partially changed out of his armor, the upper-half. He still had it on from the waist down. Evidently, he was in too much of a rush to bother with everything. Grif grinned at Simmons when their eyes met, and now Simmons smiled back at him, slightly slowing down as he stayed turned toward Grif, momentarily walking backwards… Grif was so eager to see his boyfriend, he was actually RUNNING. Before Grif caught up to him, Simmons suddenly had and idea. He began to increase how fast he walked, turned forward again, and sprinted down the hall. Grif caught on immediately; this was now a race, and Simmons wanted to beat him back to the room.
Simmons was fairly certain he would win; he had a head-start, Grif detested moving this fast, and the guy still had armor on his legs to weigh him down.
He was proven wrong when he was suddenly yanked back a step by his shirt, causing him to stumble as Grif pulled ahead.
“AHH! Bitch!” Simmons yelled, catching himself against the wall and laughing as he resumed running.
“What was that? I can’t hear you back there!” Grif yelled in return.
It was fairly empty in the halls of the ship, a few other random people were leisurely walking around, some of them still in their armor for late-duty. Luckily, none of them were very familiar with Grif and Simmons, and simply assumed these were two rowdy friends running around after work. Which was technically true… but if anybody who was close to them saw this (the people who had spent years with them, for example), it would trike them as odd; Grif, actually RUNNING, when it wasn’t toward a buffet or away from something life-threatening? Simmons, breaking several rules (that nobody but him took seriously, but still) and making noise like he had absolutely no inhibitions? If their friends had also seen them earlier, spacing out, giggling at each other uncontrollably, and sighing dreamily… perhaps they would have suspected something. Nobody from their group was seeing this. The two of them continued their chase, laughing and taunting each other.
When Grif got to the door, he paused just barely long enough to reach for the handle… and then Simmons slammed into him, knocking Grif off-balance. Grif didn’t fall, but he missed a beat as Simmons jumped inside, and shut the door, letting out a sound that was some kind of shriek, a mix of panic and delight.
“Hey! Let me in, you cheater!” Grif banged on the door.
“You cheated first!” he heard Simmons reply.
“Yeah, and then you go and stoop to my level? Not very mature, Simmons! You’re supposed to a good boy who follows the rules!” Grif tried the handle and pushed… but the door only moved an inch. Simmons was pushing back, shoulder against it and feet braced firmly.
“Well, I’m a crazy, rebellious, wild-card now! Who knows what I’ll do next! I might rob a bank!” it was hard for both of them to make any progress with the door either way; they were out of breath from running AND couldn’t stop giggling.
“Yeah right! You’d go in, try to yell stick-em up like a little kid, then apologize for raising your voice, and walk out of there with a job application!”
“Nuh-uh! I told you, I’m a loose-cannon now! I’m gonna get a tattoo on my bicep that says Born To Die!” Grif’s knees were turning to jelly at the mental thought of this. It was just too funny. “I’ll start wearing a jean jacket with no shirt all the time! I’m gonna get a faux-hawk and dye my hair neon green! I’m gonna legally change my name to a swear word that’s spelled wrong, like Phuck with a P-H! I’ll pierce my ears and wear little padlocks like earrings!”
“Holy crap, shut up dude!”
“I’m gonna tell Sarge… that I’m on BLUE TEAM NOW!”
Grif collapsed against the door, sliding down as he tried to gasp for air. This was such a ridiculous thing to use as an example of rebellion; Sarge had finally come to terms with the fact that blue wasn’t the color of sin, and Simmons had already gone through a fake-traitor incident with Blue Team. It just didn’t matter anymore… that’s why it was hilarious.
“Sim-Simmons… please just- just let me in, please, I’m dying out here, hahaha!” Grif was reduced to begging, and just hoped Simmons had an ounce of mercy.
“Well… since you said PLEASE…” the door finally opened. Grif found the strength to jump back up and pounce on him.
He grabbed Simmons by the waist, lifting him up off the ground, kicking the door shut. They were both laughing again, and Grif was planning on tossing Simmons into a chair, then maybe flicking him on the forehead as pay-back for the shove earlier… but then they looked at each other. Grif’s arms shifted, now one was under Simmons, supporting him. The other slid up his back, between his shoulders. Simmons kept giggling, leaning back and completely trusting that Grif would hold him up, now slightly hugging Grif with his legs, his hands kneading into Grif’s shoulders. As Grif stared at Simmons’ face, noticing all sorts of little details (the way his organic eye seemed to be lit up with excitement right now, the way he was biting the corner of his lower lip as he smiled, the way his nose wrinkled in an entirely too adorable way each time he quietly snorted with laughter), something happened; Grif felt his mouth water, like it did when he was ready to eat something he knew would be delicious (like his favorite kind of milk chocolate).
He mentally told himself he better swallow all this extra saliva fast, because he was definitely about to kiss Simmons. If he wasn’t careful, a waterfall of drool would pour out of his mouth when he parted his lips, which Simmons would NOT enjoy, and then Grif would have to kill himself, because how pathetic was it to finally start dating the dude you’ve been pining after for about 12 years only to drown him in spit the same day, HORRIBLY pathetic, there was no recovery from that, Grif would simply have to not be alive anymore, and why the hell was this even HAPPENING, Simmons wasn’t CHOCOLATE, why was Grif like this, why was his brain so stupid, why was his MOUTH so stupid, why why WHY-
He gulped just in time. Now it was Simmons’ turn to pounce on Grif, hands slipping up into Grif’s hair, making a soft little sigh as Grif kissed him back.
This was… this was the first time since their conversation about being in love and deciding to date that they were… out of their armor (mostly). The first time they could press their bodies close together and actually FEEL each other. Grif forgot all about the way the muscles in his legs were twitching and ignored the way his lungs burned after all the running… his attention was on Simmons. It was pretty clear that Simmons was also entirely focused on Grif. After a moment, they moved their mouths away from each other, and Grif laughed as his face was peppered with more little kisses, stumbling across the tiny room while trying to find a spot to set Simmons down. He finally leaned Simmons over his own bed, letting him drop onto the mattress. It was a sudden motion, but Simmons didn’t go far, and he kept making amused humming sounds as he bounced when he hit the bed.
“You’d better get the rest of your armor off. Unless you want to sleep in it again,” he told Grif.
“Yeah, that uh… that’s probably a good idea… I’ll do that…” Grif said, feeling light-headed (and once more filled with butterflies).
He was fairly certain Simmons had no clue what he was doing right now… no clue how GOOD he looked, leaning back across the bed, propping himself up with his elbows, hair tousled and messy in kind of a really great way, looking up at Grif so intently, face flushed… all while Grif stood in front of him, stood right between Simmons’ legs that bent over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor… and LITERALLY told Grif to undress. No, Simmons had no clue what he was doing, OR what it was doing to Grif.
Grif stepped back, going over to his bed on the other side of the room (barely 5 feet away). He wasn’t sure if Simmons was going to watch him the whole time he changed… it shouldn’t be so embarrassing; they’d changed in the same room like, a thousand times. They’d shared showers together from training days, to Blood Gulch, and almost every place they stayed (Simmons was always the nervous one about that, making such a big deal about NOT LOOKING or avoiding being LOOKED AT). This was a little different now, though… boyfriends. They were BOYFRIENDS. Grif was suddenly very AWARE of this fact. Grif was also aware that the last time they actually gotten undressed around each other and... and touched... was Chorus (and THAT had all sorts of complicated feelings attached to it, which Grif was in no mood to try and process at the moment, nope).
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Fanfic: Change Isn’t Easy (Part 2)
Title: Change Isn’t Easy
Part: 2
Fandom: Halo/RvB
Pairings: Past California/Carolina (mentioned), Past Yorkalina (mentioned), CarWash, California/Kesan (@k-dradom‘s Sangheili character)
Summary: Carolina, Wash and the Reds and Blues travel to Sanghelios. The Freelancers run into an old friend who has moved on with her life. Meanwhile, California nervously awaits seeing her friends again, knowing she didn’t part with them last in the best way and a lot has happened since…
As they say, change isn’t easy. Takes place after Season 15 of RvB. Probably going to end up canon divergent.
Warnings: Canon typical language in both English and Sangheili.
Notes: Translations for Sangheili throughout this fanfic are provided via hyperlink (hover over linked text to see the translation. Some phrases are not exact.)
Carolina was unusually silent as the Pelican she and everyone else were in made its final descent down to Sanghelios’ surface. She had travelled to many planets, but had never set foot on the Sangheili homeworld before. It was certain to be an experience she wouldn’t forget.
Opposite her, the Reds were chatting and bickering with one another. To her left, Tucker was trying to calm down an excited Caboose who kept shouting about being excited to go to “Crunchbite’s home”. Tucker had been initially excited too, talking about how his son was here, which surprised Carolina. Besides all the babies he had fathered on Chorus, she had forgotten he already had a child. She had fallen quiet not long after that, her own lost future weighing heavily on her mind.
Someone squeezing her right hand startled Carolina from her reverie and her head snapped in the direction. Wash returned her look and she wagered that, underneath his helmet, his expression was likely concern. She returned his squeeze, unashamed; past her might have yanked away, but ever since the whole fiasco with Temple and the Blues and Reds, they had gotten a lot closer. A lot, lot closer. She had finally decided to let her guard down and let Wash be her future now, something he had thankfully agreed to. The guys had teased them about it once they found out (purely by accident, no thanks to Tucker), but they were also surprisingly supportive of it to the point Carolina almost embarrassed herself by crying. Thankfully, Wash had been there to make her feel better, just as he was now.
“You alright, Carolina?” He asked her gently, rubbing circles over her hand with his thumb. “You seem out of it.”
“I’m fine, Wash.” She whispered back to him, though leaned her head on his shoulder gratefully all the same. “It’s just...”
“Having trouble wrapping your head around the fact we’re going to the Elite homeworld?” He interjected softly, rubbing circles the other way instead. “To be honest, I am too. The Great War wasn’t that long ago. Hard to believe most of these guys are our friends now, especially after I fought more than a few of them. Hell, they destroyed most of the system I had my basic in.”
“They killed my mother.” Carolina’s voice was sombre. “Well... the Covenant they were a part of did, at least. Whether it was a Sangheili that did it or not, I’ll never know. My father never told me, and he’s dead now.”
I know, Wash wanted to say. But the rest of the guys didn’t know about Carolina’s parentage – hell, he didn’t even know how much she knew about how much he knew about her from Epsilon – so he refrained. Instead, he settled for leaning his head lightly on hers.
“This probably re-opens some wounds for you, doesn’t it?” He instead answered, “We could have not come, you know. The, uh, ‘Arbiter’ only wanted to see Tucker.”
“You trust Tucker that much?” A short chuckle escaped the other Freelancer’s mouth. “He’d have gotten into trouble somehow, and you know it. No, better this way. I can put my feelings aside for a few days for friends.”
The for family wasn’t said, but Carolina knew Wash had gotten the idea when he shifted a little in surprise. It surprised her too, truth be told, just how attached to the Reds and Blues she had gotten. Grif was like her long lost lazy Hawaiian second cousin or something, Simmons was his nerdy boyfriend who bickered with him a lot, but actually really loved him. Sarge was the crazy uncle she’d never had and Donut was her gay cousin. Lopez was a distant Mexican relation, Caboose was like her younger brother or a young nephew and Tucker was either her crazy wingman black cousin or just regular wingman, she could never decide. And she would do anything for them, anything to keep them safe.
As for Wash, he was... well. Wash was her boyfriend now, apparently. It was a crazy family, but a family nonetheless. One she wouldn’t trade for anything. However, despite her fondness and protectiveness of them, it wasn’t just them she was worried about when she had decided to tag along to Sanghelios.
“It’s... not just that, though.” She admitted finally after a long silence. “Keeping the guys out of trouble is one reason I came, but it wasn’t the only one. And... it’s also the reason I’m a little... out of it, as you say.”
“Oh?” Carolina could almost hear Wash’s eyebrow rise behind his golden visor.
“California is on Sanghelios.”
There was another silence as Carolina’s words sank into Wash. “Oh.” Then, “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“When did you find that out?”
“I listened for communications from time to time back on the moon.” The cyan Freelancer admitted quietly. “There was an article about an ambassador codenamed Huntingdon that had been brokering treaties between the UNSC and the Swords of Sanghelios. California told me that was the name she’d been going under all these years. So I knew it had to be her. I... sent a communication to her prior to us leaving for Sanghelios, but she never replied. I don’t know if she ever got it or not.”
“If she’s an ambassador now, she could just be busy.” Wash pointed out, his thumb motions stopping.
“True, but... well. She just up and left us on Chorus without a word. Maybe I can’t speak, because I did that to you guys back when we crashed there, but...”
“It hurts.” The steel and yellow clad Freelancer finished for her. Carolina raised her head to look up at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He nudged her lightly. “You did what you had to, and if you hadn’t, we might never have known what was going on with Chorus. We might not have won.”
“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Carolina hummed dismissively, shaking her head. “We had a lot of help.”
“Yeah, but you got the ball rolling to the greater good. Anyway, it’s not like you didn’t come back for us. And you had good reasons to leave. Maybe Cali did, too.”
Carolina stiffened, thoughtful for a moment, before letting out a sigh and relaxing.
“Maybe you’re right-”
“Hey, lovebirds!”
Both Freelancers looked up to the source of the interruption, only to find Tucker standing there, one arm holding a bar above them to steady himself, his other hand on his waist. When had he gotten up?
“Christ, I thought you two would never stop talking.” The aqua soldier shook his head at them.
“What is it, Tucker?” Wash asked, mildly irritated, beating Carolina to the punch.
“We’re about to land in Vadam.” He told them, and Carolina swore she could hear the excitement from before returning to his voice. “Just waitin’ for the all clear to land.”
“Oh, right.” The steel and yellow clad Freelancer deadpanned him, before shifting to stand. It was at this point Carolina saw the others had already stood up as well, before taking note of Wash’s offered hand and allowing him to pull her up.
“Thanks.” She told him gratefully, lowering their hands once she was stood. When Wash didn’t let go like she thought he would, she gave his hand a squeeze, mirroring the one he’d given her earlier.
The Pelican bounced its occupants a little as it finally touched down, before a hiss of air announced the opening of the rear bay doors. As they did, Carolina reluctantly let go of Wash, squinting into the daylight revealed by the now open bay doors. Beyond them awaited a small delegation of Sangheili, led by a particularly aged, dark skinned Sangheili with a missing upper mandible, red and bone coloured battle-scarred armour and the iciest blue eyes. His remaining three mandibles pressed close together, yet there was amusement in his eyes, and it took Carolina a good while to register that the expression was the Sangheili version of a smile.
Before the delegation leader could introduce himself, and mere seconds after they had all exited the Pelican, an aqua and blue armoured figure barrelled into Tucker from nowhere, almost making Carolina reach for her Battle Rifle on her back. The only thing that stopped her was the sound of Tucker laughing and her initial alarm was soon replaced with an overwhelming sense of confusion.
“Junior! Buddy!” Tucker called out in delight, hugging the figure, which Carolina realised was another Sangheili, far taller than the delegation leader, which made the act of Tucker hugging him absurd. “Man, I’ve missed you. Sorry I couldn’t be there for your graduation, and all that. Too much saving the world and getting chicks. You know how it goes.”
As the Sangheili rumbled something she couldn’t make sense of, the pieces connected rather abruptly for Carolina. This Sangheili was Tucker’s son. She had been present when he had shown Doyle the photo of him with his school basketball team, but she had only been listening vaguely at that point. Wash and the others didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed at all. How was this a thing she was only just learning about now?
“Jora!” The Sangheili delegation leader’s deep voice rumbled, cutting off celebrations and reunions. He then barked something she couldn’t understand and the other Sangheili pulled away from his father, seemingly apologising in kind, both to his fellow Sangheili and his father.
“Hey, it’s alright, kid.” Tucker offered in sympathy. “Don’t let me keep you from the important shit. Come find me later, ‘kay?”
Junior said something else, to which Tucker just nodded before the Sangheili left. All eyes fell onto the delegation leader after that.
“My apologies for interrupting your reunions, but Kaidon ‘Vadam wishes to speak with you immediately, Lavernius Tucker.” He rumbled, this time in English.
“Nah, it’s cool. Arbiter can be impatient and stubborn, I get that.” The aqua soldier replied casually, and inside her helmet, Carolina visibly cringed at his demeanour. She severely hoped this wasn’t how he talked to the Arbiter, too.
“His stubbornness is what has kept the bulk of Sanghelios united thus far.” The old Sangheili’s voice turned grave. Honest. “Were it not for Kaidon ‘Vadam, Sanghelios would have been left in ruins long ago. But that matters not now. I am Fal ‘Mantakr, your emissary during your stay in Vadam Keep. Come. We will take you to Kaidon ‘Vadam. After you.” He gestured forward with his right hand.
The other Sangheili with Fal dispersed, and the Reds and Blues, led by Tucker, followed them. As Carolina and Wash made to move, however, Fal stopped them with his other hand, icy eyes squinting momentarily.
“Hmm, no. Not you.” He rumbled at the two Freelancers. “I was instructed to take you elsewhere.”
Carolina threatened to get defensive, but seeing this, Wash stepped in, blocking her with an arm. “Fal, was it?” The Sangheili’s name rolled off uneasily from his tongue. “No offense, but we’re staying with our friends, and I’d rather this not be made into something bigger if we can all help it.”
“Your friends are in safe hands, if that is your concern.” Fal regarded them carefully.
“You’ll forgive us if that isn’t exactly a comfort.” Carolina added in, trying not to grit her teeth.
“It is out of my hands, Dohmoh.” Fal shook his head, sympathy laced in his tone. “These instructions came from one of our ambassadors, T’las ‘Vadam. She wished to speak to you the moment you arrived at Vadam.”
By this point, the commotion had caused the Reds and Blues to stop and turn around, wanting to know what the fuss was about. The rest of the Sangheili delegation stopped walking too, a little further ahead of them.
“What’s all th’ fuss about?” It was Sarge who spoke first, surprisingly. “Do I hafta administer my tried ‘n’ true brand of Red justice on ‘em? ‘Cuz it’d be kinda a shame to ruin that fancy red ‘n’ white armour...”
“That... won’t be necessary Sarge.” Wash answered back, strained. Carolina just groaned internally.
“Dagnabit! You’re safe fer now, alien fellah, but I got my eye on you.”
Fal’s gaze flicked between Sarge, the Freelancers and the rest of the Reds and Blues, before finally settling on Tucker questioningly.
“Just ignore him.” The aqua captain answered the old Sangheili’s unasked question. “But really, what’s going on, though?”
“Fal wants us to go meet with an ambassador.” Carolina was the one to respond to him. “Not sure why, but she really wants to talk to us.”
“Meh, I’m sure we’ll be fine without you for a few hours. I mean, come on, we survived without you before!” The grin in Tucker’s voice could almost be heard.
“Why does that not fill me with confidence?” Wash deadpanned him quietly.
“You trust us that little?” Tucker sounded offended.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Wash countered, looking towards the others.
“We’ll be fine, Wash! Seriously, you need to stop being paranoid. We can meet up again later.”
“I guess that settles that, then.” Carolina agreed, though she didn’t sound too thrilled by the prospect either. “You go see the Arbiter, we’ll see this ambassador and we’ll meet somewhere in the city surrounding the keep. How’s that sound?”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”
With that, the two parties separated, one heading towards the Keep tower itself and the other heading towards Vadam’s outskirts. As Carolina and Wash followed Fal, she stuck close to her fellow Freelancer, unable to shake the sick feeling from her gut.
The sooner she was back with the others, with her family, the better she would feel, in all honesty.
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