Title: Facsimile
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Prompt: 34. Stars
Pairing: Grif/Simmons, mentioned Donut/Caboose
Rating: PG13 for lots of bad words and mentions of gayness :3
Word Count: 4120 (8 pages in Word. Why can't I write a short story that's actually short?!)
Summary: Simmons misses something specific about Earth, and Grif tries to help.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this story. Kapiche?
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The one thing Simmons never thought he'd miss about Earth was the deep, sparkling velvet blanket of the night sky. Sure, he had been just as interested in astronomy and constellations as the next nerd, but with the darkness had always come the fear of the unknown, of shaded, hidden places where things with fangs and scales could strike out at him at any given moment. It made it ever more surreal then, that subtle ache of longing to see the moon through a window every time he'd curl up under his blankets for the "night." He wasn't even sure if he was on the right time schedule anymore; the sun never set in Blood Gulch, so how was he to know if he really was sleeping during the night part of the day? Thinking too deeply about it made him wish for the cloak of darkness even more; his time in this canyon felt like one day, one very, very long day that would never end. What kind of day was 8 years long, anyway?
And just as he realized his longing, he swallowed it down, replaced it with extra work and compliments to Sarge and arguments with Grif so that when he did finally get to rest, he was too tired to think of any overly romantic things like the dimmed glow of the stars. That tactic worked for a while, though it made Simmons more irritable and less likely to act civilized to his fellow soldiers. Even his ass kissing was forced after a while, and all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere dark and quiet and just forget about everything for as long as he could before someone found him. It was during those bouts of depressed petulance that the longing for night came back and hit him full force, and the only way Simmons knew how to get rid of it was the lifestyle of exhaustion that caused it. It was a vicious cycle he had no idea how to get out of.
These cycles of behavior were not lost on the rest of his team. They were usually pretty drawn out; the worst bouts of irritation usually happened every few weeks, in such a way that Grif had started to joke that Simmons was on "his time of the month." This almost always earned him a punch to the face, but Grif kept at it anyway; even that feeble attempt at humor seemed to lighten everyone's moods a little, including Simmons' (though his boost in happiness was more a result of the punch, not the joke).
But that was the most anyone really did to confront Simmons about it, and the subject was never completely pursued. The source of Simmons' short fuse remained a mystery to all around him... that is, until a certain orange-armored private decided to get to the bottom of it...
