#the little stuffy has stitching on his leg where he had to get surgery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riathedreamer · 7 years

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For Red Team’s “Hurt/comfort”.

Let’s say there was some recuperation time after Simmons’ and Grif’ surgeries, and that I can be allowed to do whatever I want with that time.

Stitches Simmons knew surprisingly little about the man he had just given his heart and lungs to. But he should have known that Grif was too useless to take care of himself.

Grif refusing to leave his bed was normally not something to concern yourself with. It was merely a part of the daily routine: so was Simmons yelling at him and eventually Sarge showing up with his shotgun.

In the days after their surgeries, Grif had been allowed to take more naps to rest his sore and heavy limps, allowing the stitches to heal. Simmons could not deny that he had given himself more rest than usually; he was still getting used to his new cyborg parts and the upper part of his leg would quickly begin to hurt after dragging along the metal for enough time.

But they were healing. And they had actually managed to survive the surgeries which was the greatest surprise. Things were going well. Sarge had even begun to plan their retaliation attack because even though the victim had been a dirtbag you could not just run over a Red with a tank without consequences. Well, if you were a Blue you could hardly even look at Red Base without consequences.

But then, inevitably, Grif decided to mess things up.

Simmons tore away the blanket, hoping that would force the Hawaiian to wake up. Grif was not wearing his night-shirt, revealing his sweaty skin. But what stole Simmons’ attention was the redness that stuck to the stiches crawling across his shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

Grif lazily opened an eye. “What?”

Simmons immediately dropped the blanket. “Nothing.”

Suddenly fully awake, Grif tried to sit up, grimacing. “Shit! Okay, what is happening?!”

“Nothing,” Simmons said again, slowly backing away from the bed. “I mean-“

“Your ‘nothing’ basically means shit’s on fire, Simmons.” Grif suddenly collapsed to lie back on the bed. He let out a grunt of discomfort when it pulled his stitches. “You’re the worst liar!”

“No, I’m not,” Simmons defended himself in a tone that only seemed to strengthen Grif’s point.

Grif let out another groan, wiping his sweaty forehead and asked, “Okay, who’s dying?”

“No one,” Simmons replied a bit too quickly. Biting his lip, he awkward rubbed the back of his neck. “So… How are you feeling?”

Grif widened his eyes at the question. “Oh my god, I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Nooo…”

“See! World’s worst liar.” Grif had closed his eyes again. “Oh shit, oh shit.”

“You’re not dying,” Simmons said and pulled away the blanket again to take a closer look. He wrinkled his nose and wished the look had not been that close. There was a reason why he had never dreamt of becoming a doctor. That and the fact that it was still weird to see his own skin on Grif’s body. “Some of your stitches are infected. I bet you were too lazy to keep yourself clean. You’ve probably never been clean in your life,” Simmons blabbered, trying his best not to look at swollen redness. “I’ll try to find some antibiotics. And Donut.”

Grif turned his head to bury his face in the pillow. “Not Nurse Donut.”

“Would you rather have Sarge?” Simmons huffed.

“No.” Grif had opened one eye to stare directly at Simmons. There was a strange look in it that the cyborg could not really identify.

Simmons swallowed. “I’ll try to find something for your fever as well.”

---

Being stuck in Blood Gulch meant limited resources and their chances of getting new ones anytime soon were limited. Simmons found some pills in a medkit in the bottom of one of their drawers. Apparently Grif had also been using the kit as a stash since Simmons found some snack bars in it as well.

If the medicine worked, it worked slowly, and Grif’s fever skyrocketed to the point where even Donut looked nervous and Sarge began to debate how they could manage to dig a grave big enough to fit the body.

Simmons did not like staying inside the bedroom now: it smelled stuffy and sickly inside. Grif was asleep most of the time anyway.

One day Simmons was on the way to the kitchen when he brushed shoulders with Donut who was on his way to change to water he used to cool down Grif’s forehead with. Donut was good at playing nurse. He was good at all those things Simmons would feel awkward doing.

“Have you heard of anybody named Kai?” Donut asked him with a frown. “Grif keeps talking about her. He wants us to send her a message if he… Well, fever makes you think the most foolish things.”

“Who’s Kai? Wait, Grif has a girlfriend?” The idiot had never spoken of a girlfriend before, never even mentioned that name. Simmons has not even thought for a moment that he could have…

Donut looked just as confused as Simmons felt. “I’m not sure. I thought…” His eyes trailed up to stare at Simmons’ face with a tilted head. “Well, you know.”

“No?” Simmons could feel a headache knocking. “Donut, what are you…?”

“I think he might want some company.” Donut’s voice turned light again as he changed subject. “And I wouldn’t mind a small break. I’ve been stuck in the same position for so long my limbs are getting stiff. And maybe you could cheer him up.”

“Donut, I don’t think-“

But the younger soldier had already managed to shove the wet rag into his hands and disappear before the cyborg could protest further.

Grif was asleep most of the time, and his eyes were still closed when Simmons sat down in the chair Donut had placed next to the bed. Simmons leaned closer to get a better look at the patient. The Hawaiian’s black hair was sticking to his forehead, revealing the fever was still raging on. Simmons did not feel like looking at the stitches again but Donut had ensured him he kept them clean and they were looking better. But Donut had always been terribly optimistic.

With Simmons’ face hovering above his own, Grif suddenly opened his eyes. They were still glazed over. “You need to work on your poker-face,” he muttered tiredly.

“You smell,” Simmons said dryly, wrinkling his nose. It was true; Grif was still sweating. More than normally, at least.

“Gonna die from heat,” Grif muttered, closing his eyes again. “Can’t even say it’s the fucking tank. I’m stuck with a lame death.”

“You’re not gonna die.”

“Say it like you mean it, Simmons.”

Simmons folded his hands, trying not to tense up when his flesh fingers touched his new metal ones. “Well,” he said slowly, “it’d be rather shitty of you to die. I did just give you my heart and lungs. You never thanked me, by the way. Not that it surprises me. I know you are an ungrateful bastard but you could at least be polite enough not to make my noble sacrifice useless.”

It took some seconds before Grif replied; Simmons felt his own heart beating faster until the Hawaiian finally opened his eyes. “You’re such sap.”

Simmons exhaled. “Yeah…”

“Did Donut… Look, Command is too fucking useless to bother and if… You gotta tell Kai if…”

There was that name again. Simmons felt his stomach turn into a knot again, for numerous reasons.

Grif’s voice revealed he was drifting off. “Just… fucking mail her… or a fucking pigeon or shit… to Kaikaina Grif.”

Simmons was pretty sure his jaw just dropped to the floor.

“Oh my god. You’re married?!”

Grif let out that deep sigh that usually meant he was a second away from sleep. He just managed to mutter “What the fuck, Simmons?” before he nodded completely off.

Simmons sat alone in the silent room, metal fingers crushing his other hand, and his mind was plagued by worries he did not quite understand.

---

Grif’s fever broke the day afterwards, resulting in a cheerful Donut while Sarge tried his best to look sullen.

Simmons could breathe somewhat normally again in the evening when Grif was feeling well enough to ask for dinner – and Simmons’ leftovers.

Handing them to him with a shrug, Simmons watched him eat. Donut had left the room since Grif and Simmons apparently needed some space - whatever the fuck that meant.

Grif was quiet because he was stuffing his mouth. Finally, Simmons could not take it any longer and quietly hissed, “You could at least wear the ring.”

Almost choking, Grif had to swallow the food in his mouth before exclaiming, “What?!”

“You’re married. Apparently.” Simmons stared at Grif’s blanket. It had stains all over it. It should be washed soon. “So you should at least wear the ring.”

“I’m… what? We’re… Did you remember something from the Vegas Quadrant that I don’t?”

“What?!”

Grif had widened his eyes, staring at Simmons in wonder. “So we’re not married?”

“Why are you saying we’re married?!”

“I don’t know! You are the one who was talking about marriage in the first place!”

“Because you’re married!”

Simmons had never seen such an expression on Grif’s face before. It did not suit him. “No, I’m not.”

“But… but you told me to write to your wife. Kaikaina Grif.”

Grif looked even more out of it than when he had been delirious by fever. “I talked about Kai?”

“You may not remember it,” Simmons muttered. “With the fever and all. But, yeah.”

“Simmons, you know people can share the same last name without being married, right?”

Oh. Oh.

“But… But Donut said…” Wait, Donut had actually not said anything, he had… “Okay, Donut suggested that maybe… a girlfriend? So I assumed…”

“Wow,” Grif said, smacking his lips.

“Yeah…” Simmons felt his cheeks burn. However, the situation was uncomfortably awkward but still better than the cold knot that had been in his stomach for the last couple of days.

Grif tilted his head as he stared at Simmons. “Good thing I didn’t kick the bucket, then. Your message would have fucking mindfucked her.”

“Right. Good thing…” Simmons finally dared to look at Grif again. The Hawaiian did not look too upset. If anything, he looked tired. Not the wrong kind of tired that had caused his restless expression while he had been sick, but the normal kind of tired that was pretty much just his face by this point. Idiot was probably gonna nap before long. “You know, all this wouldn’t have happened if you could just take proper care of yourself. You literally nearly died by your own laziness.”

“That’s why I keep you around,” Grif huffed with a smirk. “You have to take better care of me, Simmons.”

“Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“Sarge says it’s your duty to get me out of bed. According to what Donut said, I was bedridden for almost a week. Have you been fired yet?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Glad you got to keep your job, though,” Grif revealed as he closed his eyes. “Base wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Simmons exhaled. “Yeah. You too. Asshole.”

#rvb bingo wars #grimmons #sickness #grif #simmons #my rvb stuff

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