Title: Rain in the Desert, Part II
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Prompt: 50. Breaking the Rules
Pairing: A wished Grif/Simmons on Donut's part. XD;
Rating: T for language
Word Count: 2589
Summary: "Wow! I didn't know we had so many board games!" Donut exclaimed, eyes widening with excitement.
Disclaimer: Don't own Halo, RVB, or any characters. Mmmyep.
A/N: This one's way more silly compared to the last. XD; So... if I depressed you or something, get ready for teh lulz.
---
Simmons abandoned his armor when he had thrown it in the corner and walked further into the base, Grif trailing lazily behind. Turning the corner into the rec room, he froze as he saw his C.O. and the pink rookie sitting on the floor, surrounded by something... pink. And fuzzy.
Hearing their footsteps (and lack thereof), Donut glanced up to see the two missing soldiers. "There you are!" he burst out, sounding a little like a scolding mother. "What took you so long, Simmons? And look, Grif is soaked to the bone!" He suddenly burst into a radiant grin. "Want me to warm you up? I've been practicing this great new massage technique--"
"Dear GOD, no," Grif cut in, shuddering. "I don't want to hear any more of that sentence."
Donut pouted. "But it--"
"No."
"Will you at least let me--"
"I said no, Donut. That means shut up!"
"Fine," the pink soldier huffed, turning back to Sarge. The red-clad man looked a little glassy-eyed, like he'd sacrificed his last shred of sanity while keeping Donut company. "Hey Sarge, you ready to learn how to double perl?!" He turned to Grif and Simmons. "You guys can learn, too!"
"What the fuck is a double pearl?" Grif exclaimed, looking to Simmons for an answer.
Simmons shrugged. "I think it's a knitting term," he pondered, adding, "Or maybe that was crocheting?"
Grif smirked. "Psh, you would know."
"What is THAT supposed to mean?!"
"Come on, guys, leave the lovers' spat at the door. We need to really CONCENTRATE on this shit, man!" He waved his knitting needles dramatically in the air before slamming them back together and clicking out a whole new row with a furious pace.
"What?!" Simmons burst out. "We're not-- What are you-- I don't--" he sputtered, unable to construct a sentence as his face turned bright red.
"Nice," Grif jeered. "Reeeeeal smooth, Simmons." He crossed his arms. "And for the record, I'm not gay." He paused, "Unless you count that one time at band camp, but I was drunk, so--"
"Band camp? You don't even play an instrument!"
"Yes I do. I play the ukulele."
"THAT'S NOT A BAND INSTRUMENT!"
"It is in Hawaii."
"Stop making shit up!"
"I'm not! It's true, I played the electric ukulele in marching band!"
"Now you're REALLY making shit up!"
"GUYS, STOP IT!" Donut yelled. The two turned to stare at him with surprise. "Um... Watching you guys argue is cute and all, but I kind of need to finish this before Christmas." He gestered vaguely at the mass of pink yarn surrounding him on the floor.
"What is that, anyway?" Grif wondered, reaching down to pick it up.
"Hey!" Donut admonished, smacking Grif's hand lightly away. "It's a secret! You guys can't know yet!"
"You're giving us something pink for Christmas? I'm scared already," Simmons interjected.
"For the last time, it's LIGHTISH RED!" Donut huffed. "You know what, you guys? If you don't want to learn, I'll just put this away and we can do something else that you won't make fun of."
"Dibs on picking the game," Grif blurted.
"Dibs-- Aw, crap," Simmons said simultaneously.
Donut grinned slyly. "You know, if you guys could just get over your issues with compromise, you'd be the perfect couple! It's almost like you're MADE for each other!"
"Shut up and put your yarn away, Donut," Grif retorted, sounding more bored than anything else. "Now..." he continued, gaining an almost devilish look. "Which game should we play...?"
+++
Grif staggered back into the rec room a few minutes later, arms towering with game boxes. He dropped them onto the table with a slight yelp as the stacks toppled over.
"Wow! I didn't know we had so many board games!" Donut exclaimed, eyes widening with excitement.
"Yeah," Grif huffed, leaning to place his hands on his knees for a moment and catch his breath. "We got bored and had them shipped from Earth. That was a long time before you came."
"I forgot we even had these!" Simmons murmured almost in awe as he began straightening the boxes. He listed the names as he stacked them neatly again. "Battleships... Rummicube... Monopoly... Clue... Parcheesi... Risk... Scattergories... Pictionary... The Home Improvement Game -- What the fuck is that even about? Candyland... Life... Phase 10... Uno... Cribbage... Backgammon... Mousetrap... Wow, we have like every one ever made."
"I doubt that," Grif interrupted, but still looked pleased. "So..." he surveyed the games, frowning slightly as he tried to make a decision. After a long while he announced simply, "Monopoly."
"Monopoly?!" Simmons snorted. "That's the most cliche board game in the whole world."
"For a reason! It's like, the best game ever fucking made," Grif answered arrogantly, placing his hand on his hip as if to dare Simmons to argue.
Simmons took the bait. "No, it's not! Monopoly is boring! We should play..." he glanced down at the table, picking up the first game he saw. "Candyland!"
Grif smirked. "A little kid game? Please." He shook his head, smiling condescendingly at the blushing man before him. "Plus, I called dibs. So, we're playing Monopoly."
Simmons dropped Candyland back on the table with a thump, muttering, "Asshole."
"Fucktard."
"Cockbite."
"Shithead."
Donut swooped in, snatching the Monopoly box from Grif's hand. He sprinted towards the door with it held high above his head, yelling, "I CALL THE PUPPY DOG!"
Grif and Simmons looked at each other and sighed, following Donut to retrieve the game.
+++
"'Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 dollars.' Fuck!" Simmons slammed a hand down on the table, upsetting the brightly colored paper money arranged on it.
"Haha, loser. What did you get busted for this time?" Grif teased, plucking Simmons' piece, the shoe, off of the track when the defeated man refused to. He slid it into Jail, waving it back and forth as if it were talking. "I'm such a retard, I tried stealing a totaled car from a junk yard!'" he said in a slightly lowered voice that was supposed to be a Simmons impression.
"Shut up, Grif. If we're deciding what I'm doing time for, then I get to pick," Simmons mutteredly darkly, waving Grif's hand off of his piece. He poked his finger into the shoe where it stood in jail, frowning.
"Fine, Mr. Bossy. What are you in for, then?"
"Ooh! Ooh! I know!" Donut interjected, raising a hand as if he wished to be called on.
"What?" Grif prompted boredly.
"He tried to steal Grif's heart~!"
"Yeah, shut up," Simmons cut in, adding, "I'm in because I hacked into the President's computer and replaced all his important government documents with porn."
"Dude," Grif chuckled, "I was getting ready to make fun of whatever you came up with, but man, that's a good one."
"Thanks. And also, you're a douchebag."
"That was kinda of harsh, Simmons. It was a compliment."
"My turn!" Donut declared with glee, reaching for the dice. He threw them and moved the pewter dog forward 5 spaces. "Community Chest..." he proclaimed, snatching one of the yellow cards up eagerly. He read it aloud. "'You have won second place in a beauty contest! Collect 10 dollars.' Only second place? Come on, I would have TOTALLY won! And ten dollars? They're cheap!" He held his hand out to Simmons. "Gimme a ten, banker!"
"Yeah yeah, I know," Simmons grumbled, pulling a 10 from the game box and crushing it into the younger man's hand. "Take it and leave." He turned to Grif and opened his mouth to tell him to take his turn.
"Your turn, Simmons," Grif responded, smirking as Simmons closed his mouth and then opened it again, an action reminiscent of a fish.
"What?! Your turn comes after Donut, not mine!"
"I know. I already took it while you were giving Donut his prize money."
"You can't do that!"
"Yeah I can. I just did."
"Well what did you even land on!?" Simmons turned his gaze to the board. The racecar (Grif's piece) was sitting on Virginia Avenue, the only of Simmons' properties with a hotel. "That's the Simmons Hotel, jackass! You have to pay me rent!"
"You named your hotel? Nerd. Plus, you're in jail, so I don't have to pay you anything."
"You do too have to pay me! Business transactions still happen if you're in jail!"
"I don't know what jails you've been to, but that is totally bogus."
"You're totally bogus! It's in the rules! Section 12, rule number 5! Under the title 'Jail'!"
"You memorized the rules for this game too? Figures." He smirked, adding another, "Nerd."
"Yeah, whatever. You still owe me 900 bucks."
"What?! No way am I paying that! I didn't even go into your smelly hotel, I just slept in my car outside it! See?" He pointed to his playing piece. "I have a car, I can do that."
"It's not smelly, it's a five star hotel! And you can't just park outside, it's got valet parking and a private parking garage."
"There's such a thing as parking on the dirt, you know," Grif countered smugly. "I don't owe you a dime."
"Just give him his money, Grif!" Donut scolded, reaching over to pluck up the amount from the stubborn man's stash himself.
"Stop that! Get your grimy paws off my money!" Grif bawled with surprise, trying to shove the pink private away. Donut ignored him and grabbed a handful of 500 dollar bills, handing two of them to Simmons.
"Now give him $100 back and take your turn! I wanna finish this so we can play Life!"
Simmons dumbly handed Grif a hundred dollar bill, a little surprised at how take-charge Donut had been acting that day. He plucked the dice and rolled them, hoping for doubles. They landed on a 6 and a 5.
"Fuck!" Simmons exclaimed, slamming a hand down on the table again. Grif leaned over and moved the other's piece one step further out of jail.
"Hang in there, buddy, you'll make it out soon," Grif purred in a patronizing voice. "Just try not to drop the soap."
"Shut up," Simmons muttered, frowning as Grif rolled the dice for his turn.
The orange private started moving his piece forward, then realized where he was going to land and started moving it off the track and into the center.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" Simmons demanded.
"Detour," Grif replied simply, continuing to move his car further toward the image of Mr. Monopoly.
Simmons punched a finger down on the space Grif should have landed on. "Go here, dipshit! And stop breaking rules!"
"Fine..." Grif sighed dramatically, moving his piece where it was supposed to go. "Nerd." He looked down at the blue-clad policeman with the whistle, finger pointing toward the jail still occupied by Simmons. "Figures that the cops would have to be blue," he grumbled before moving his piece into the tiny orange jail next to Simmons'. He paused, then, as a second thought, reached into the game box and snatched up a wad of 500 dollar bills.
"What the fuck?!?" Simmons demanded, grabbing Grif's wrist to prevent him from putting the stolen money into his pile. Grif twisted away and replied, "I went to jail for robbing a bank."
"If they proved you guilty, didn't they get the money back?" Donut chimed in.
"Nope," Grif retorted. "I hid it in my secret hiding place. No one ever found it."
"You can't do that!" Simmons whined, trying to steal back the money. He was blocked by Grif, but kept trying anyway.
"Is there a rule against it?" Grif interrogated, raising an eyebrow.
Simmons paused, thinking. "Well, no, but that's common sense--"
"Well if there's not a rule about it, then I can do it," Grif reasoned, sticking out his tongue. "Your turn, Simmons."
"Goddammit!" he exclaimed, but rolled the dice for his turn anyway. Once again he was unlucky and without doubles. "GODDAMMIT!" he yelled again.
"Nobooooody knooooows the trou-bles I've seeeeeeen~ Noboooooody knoooooows but Jeeeesuuuuuuss..." Grif sang. "Come on Simmons, sing it with me!"
"You are a fucking idiot, Grif."
+++
"What? What if i don't want to get married?" Grif huffed as he was stopped for marriage. They had finished Monopoly about 15 minutes before, and had been playing the game of Life ever since (on Donut's suggestion).
Grif flicked over the tiny chapel in his frustration.
"You have to!" Donut exclaimed, righting the plastic building. "That's how the game works!" Grif crossed his arms impatiently as Donut fished around in the game box for his spouse. After a moment he was proudly holding up the tiny plastic piece and handing it to Grif with a grin. "Here you go!"
"What!?" Grif exclaimed, staring down at the little person. "You gave me another man!"
"I know," Donut clarified innocently.
"What the fuck?!"
"It's Simmons, of course!"
"What!??" Grif pointed dramatically to the plastic person already sitting in Simmons' little red car. "That is Simmons!" He violently threw the person Donut had given him down on the table. "THERE CAN'T BE TWO SIMMONS!"
Donut sighed. "Fine... Gimme it back then."
Grif dropped the person into Donut's outstretched hand gladly. "Don't even give me another person. I'm not getting married."
"Aww," Donut pouted, but backed down. "Okay. But don't be sad when you can't have a baby later in life!"
"What?!" Simmons interrupted. "Men can't make babies together!"
"Yes they can!" Donut argued.
"No, they can't!" Grif and Simmons yelled back in unison.
Donut smiled. "Yes, they can. That blue guy was pregnant once, remember? Tucker?"
"That's because he was raped by an alien," Grif countered, crossing his arms again. "Regular guys can't have kids. That'd be fucked up."
Donut giggled. "Well, one of them would have to be."
"You're sick, Donut," Simmons groaned.
"What did Donut do this time?" came a voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Sarge, standing at attention and looking much better than he had before (Simmons had dragged his C.O. back to his room before they had started playing, since the man hadn't responded to anyone and had just continued sitting cross-style on the floor). "Don't let him talk to you, Simmons!" His voice got strangely dramatic (and louder) as he continued. "He'll slowly start to bombard your head with horrible images, and then he'll teach you how to do girly things and force you into submission! AND HE'LL KEEP TELLING YOU THINGS ABOUT HIS LAST BOYFRIEND UNTIL YOU WANT TO SHRIVEL UP AND DIE RIGHT THERE!"
"Did... did he actually do all those things to you, Sir?" Simmons inquired shakily.
"Fer God's socks, no! But I just knew he was plannin' on it..." The red sergeant turned as if he were going to leave, muttering about Donut under his breath, but then he suddenly turned around again. "Oh! All three of you, upstairs pronto! It's stopped raining, and I need you to bring the buckets down here!"
"Yes, Sir!" Simmons called, leaping to attention with a salute. He sped after Sarge like an eager puppy, turning only to send Grif and Donut a scolding look before trotting out of sight.
"...Fucking kiss-ass," Grif muttered, pushing himself from the table and trailing slowly behind Donut, who had jumped up almost immediately after Simmons had glared at him.
Donut turned at Grif's comment, pausing in the hallway to look back at the orange soldier.
"What?" Grif demanded as Donut stared at him. "It's true. He's a goddamn kiss-ass and I hate it."
Donut's only response was a slow and knowing smile.
---
A/N: I know nothing about knitting. XD; Sorry. If there's no such thing as double perling, then Donut made it up. :D
Also, all those games Simmons was listing? I actually own them all. XD; And yes, that Monopoly rule is true, along with all the other technical things about the game. I'm the type of nerd who would look it up to make sure I got it right >>;
