PDVR - RvB

Title: Probably, Definitely, Very Returned
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Pairing: Grif/Simmons
Rating: PG-13 (there is smut, I swear, it's just poeticized like I tend to do. LOL)
Word Count: 1130
Summary: Grif told Simmons what was bothering him, and Simmons doesn't know what to do with himself after knowing.
Disclaimer: RvB is amazing, and is also not mine. The combination of the words written here is, though. :3
A/N: Sequel to Maybe, Slightly, Only Very Probably In Love, because a few people asked for it and inspiration struck.

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Never, even in Simmons' wildest dreams, would he have thought that Grif actually loved him.

Oh sure, he liked to pretend that certain things the other man did were for his benefit, like walking around in only his boxers on Laundry Day, or stretching out across the rec room couch lazily while Simmons vacuumed the floor around him, almost as if he was providing entertainment for the otherwise boring job.

So when Grif sat down to the plate of cookies and milk he'd prepared and told him that what was bothering him was the fact he couldn't stop thinking about Simmons, it was understandable that the maroon soldier was at a loss for words.

He'd thought Grif was upset because he missed home, for chrissakes.

But now Grif was explaining that for years he'd been pining after Simmons, had all but ignored it and denied it and claimed it was coincidence, and now that he'd finally been able to admit it to himself it was all he could think about anymore. How much he wanted Simmons to look at Grif the same way he looked at him, how much he wanted to be the one to tell Simmons that is was alright after Sarge ignored a good deed. How much he wanted to be the first to map out every shape and line of the other's body. How much he wanted to hold Simmons in his arms late at night and just breathe.

Simmons had absolutely no experience with anything quite like this, as was apparent by the jawdrop and disbelieving eyes as Grif rambled on. He'd loved Grif the moment he lay eyes on him -- well, maybe it hadn't been love then, exactly, but the strings of his heart had been pulled roughly at the rugged yet somehow gentle islander. He'd long ago told himself it was impossible for them to be anything, that it was just wishful thinking, that he was imagining it when he felt the other man's eyes on him as they passed each other in the hallway. A wave of something fiercely bittersweet moved through him, and he realized it was hope.

Grif's words had long since melded into a beautifully mindless sound as Simmons had drifted into his own memories. Simmons had to force himself to stop those wonderful lips from forming the sounds of communication. "Grif," he said, hating himself for the thick lump of emotion that clouded his voice. "Stop talking."

"Simmons?" Grif sounded reluctantly curious, fearful somehow. Was he afraid that Simmons would reject him? Did he know how very baseless a fear that was?

It was all Simmons could do not to break down crying right there. "Do you know how fucking long I've waited for you to tell me that?" he bawled, voice cracking. Grif raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise and dropped the oreo he had been fingering nervously.

"You mean..." the orange soldier started. "You actually want me back?" He sound incredulous yet ecstatic, as if someone had told him that Santa Claus really did exist.

"Yes, you dumbass. I've wanted you forever."

Grif didn't wait to throw himself over the table and grab Simmons into a hasty kiss. He pulled away gingerly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard the clatter of his action before he stood up and traversed the perimeter of the table. Simmons stared at him, dumbfounded, naive, and so fucking turned on. He stood and met Grif halfway, collapsing into the other man's arms tightly.

"Your room or mine?" he murmured, excitement mixed with apprehension twisting his insides into pulp.

"Yours," Grif panted -- he was already panting? -- hands sliding lower on Simmons' back to finger the line of his pants. Simmons shivered into the touch, and it was all he could do not to lose himself right then. Grif elaborated, breaking into his rapidly dissipating thoughts. "You've got the kitchen and the storage room on either side. No eavesdroppers."

Simmons nodded and pulled away, starting shakily back out to the hallway. The cookies and milk forgotten, Grif pulled him impatiently onward until they were safe behind the closed door of Simmons' room, pressed flush together on the bed, twisting the sheets beneath their writhing, frantic forms. Suddenly they had no time to waste, no time to breathe, mouths melding and fighting for dominance as hand roved in delirious trails across planes of stomach and back. Clothing was discarded amidst the performance, somehow; neither of them was sure exactly when that had happened.

They broke for air, panting and heaving and feeling lost without the other's lips crushed to theirs. Simmons watched Grif regain oxygen, hunched over him with arms planted firmly under each of his arms. The skin of his wrists grazed his sides, leaving a delicious buzz of energy in its place. Simmons groaned softly, and that was all it took for Grif to throw himself whole-heartedly back into their exchange, hands slipping dangerously low as he thrust a knee between Simmons' legs to make room for himself. Simmons arched his back in surprise, pushing his bare chest against Grif's as the Hawaiian's hand fluttered over his most pressing concern.

Surprisingly, even in their manic need to be as close and as together as was possible, Grif was still gentle as they threw all caution to the wind and listened completely to their libido. Simmons wanted to cry at the tenderness of it all, something he'd been craving for as long as he could remember. If he could have taken Grif in deeper, he would have; he wanted to be a part of Grif for the rest of his life, and for Grif to be a part of him.

After they'd both found their sweet release, so extraordinarily close together for their first time, they lay in liquid silence, stuck together with sweat and semen, sticky, satiated, complete. Grif placed soft, delicate, exhausted kisses on the skin behind Simmons' ear, the only place he could easily reach without having to move. Simmons heaved a contented sigh, knowing he'd forego the world an all its treasures just to stay in this moment forever.

It was funny, really, how it had taken them both so long to take the leap of faith it had needed to bring them to this. How long had they known each other, how long had they both cared? How long had they both realized that there was the potential there for them?

Simmons chuckled as he thought of it, though he knew his laughter was probably also caused by the fountain of joyful youth that was bubbling in his chest gently.

"Whasso funny?" Grif murmured into the sweat-slicked hair on Simmons' neck, kissing it again and drawing closer.

"Everything," Simmons answered, and that was the truth.