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washoutking · 6 years

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Not-So Fashionably Late

( read on AO3 here )

Rating: Teen and Up (for swearing)

Ships: Grimmons, Sargrey, a bit of Tuckington and some backround ones if you squint really hard

Summary: The war is over. Everybody is living their peaceful lives back on Earth. And Sarge just invited everyone to his wedding!Simmons finds out Grif is taking someone else to the wedding, he is stuck on a 3-hour car ride with his suitemates, and they already missed the entire ceremony. His day couldn't get any worse, could it?

Written for @powerfulpomegranate for @redvsbluesecretsanta ~ The prompt was shippy or platonic domestic things, Sarge being secretly fond of his team, getting drunk and spilling about friendship, some repressed protags, and good old wholesome content.

“Son of a bitch,” Simmons’s voice groans in frustration through the speakers of Dexter Grif’s laptop.

“Did a twelve-year-old snipe you from across the map again?” Grif mutters in the direction of his computer screen, eating an oreo in two bites. He lays on his battered couch in front of a fan that barely cools the 90-degree room.

If there’s anything Grif misses about Blood Gulch was the dry heat. It was hot, but at least he did not have to deal with the suffocating humidity here in Hawaii. Though if he has to be honest, at least he was as far away from Sarge as he could be. Which also means he’s away from Donut, Lopez, and Simmons, some of which he is not as happy to be away from, but he would never say so out loud.

Grif and Simmons make do with biweekly skype call to make up for the distance. Grif uses the excuse that he needs someone to talk to that is not Sister and that Simmons would surely go mad if left alone with Donut unsupervised for too long. It was the system they have been using for almost a year, and Grif was quite happy with it.

“First of all, I have no knowledge about whether a player is twelve or not,” Simmons’s voice replied through the call, cracking already at the first word. “Second of all, they didn’t snipe me, they sneaked up and stabbed me in the back.”

Grif bursts out laughing, “you got shanked by a twelve-year-old!”

“I didn’t-” There was a sigh and the sound of a remote hitting a table as it is dropped. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Why? Can’t take another twelve-year-old outranking you in the kill chart?” Grif makes it a point that his smug grin is wide enough to be heard through the audio.

“I’ll have you know I still have second place in that kill chart. That’s the best spot there is.”

Grif chuckles, “You only say that because you get shanked by too many twelve-year-olds to make it to first.”

The audio cuts for a second and comes back with Donut’s distant voice asking Simmon’s something while standing just slightly too far away from the mic.

“He’s not- Donut stop-... Okay, I’ll ask him! Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Wow,” Grif raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, amused. “You sound like the real twelve-year-old right there, Simmons. No wonder they’re trying to kill you, impostor.”

“I do NOT sound like a twelve-year-old,” Simmon’s voice cracks, contradicting his words.

“Sure, Simmons, whatever you say.”

There is a small pause between them, filled only by the distant waiting music from whatever Simmons was playing and the whirring of Grif’s fan across from him.

“Hey, Grif,” Simmons speaks after a few seconds, his voice interrupted by static as the internet dies down “Do-..... -one?

“Can’t hear you, Simmons,” Grif complains at the laptop, turning himself around to check on it.

“D-.... want-....?”

Grif huffs to himself, sitting up and checking the internet connection. “I’m losing you, buddy.”

“H- Hello?” Simmons finally comes through clear as before.

“There we go,” Grif smiles, sitting back again. “What were you saying before?”

“I-I was asking you who you were bringing as your plus one,” Simmons stutters through the audio. “For Sarge’s wedding, remember? Did you get the invite?”

Grif made a noise of realization at that. “Yeah, I remember… Made a note saying he did not care if I showed up but he offered to buy my plane tickets.”

“WHAT!?” Simmon’s voice broke again for the third time in that hour. “He didn’t offer any such thing to me.”

“That’s because you can drive there,” Grif states. “I cannot. And to answer your question I am bringing a plus one.”

“Really? Who are you br-”

Simmons suddenly stops talking, and it takes Grif a few seconds to figure out the call dropped.

The country road seems to stretch for eternity through Simmons’ windshield, rolling out into the blue sky with trees lining on either side. He’s been stuck in his small car with Donut and Doc for close to four hours now, and it was not getting any better.

“I spy…” Donut begins for his 30th turn that day, looking out from the passenger’s seat window. “Something long and wet.”

“Uh… is it the creek?” Doc guesses from the back seat.

Donut turns around, smiling back at his suitemate. “How’d you guess?"

“Can you guys stop?” Simmons interrupts the two, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to concentrate on driving.”

“Is that why you shut off the music as soon as I turned on the radio?” Donut kicks one of his legs on the dashboard. “Chill out, Simmons. What do you need to concentrate on? It’s not like the road is that complicated.”

Simmons frees one of his hands from the wheel, using it to motion past the windshield to the rows upon rows of trees. “We are in the middle of nowhere! What if there’s a wild animal- or a deer that runs through!”

“I think a deer is a wild animal,” Doc points out.

Simmons waves him off, “Shut up.”

Donut sits up on his seat, eyes wide. “OoOOoh~ you’re worried about something, aren't you?”

“No, I’m not!” Simmons’ voice cracks.

“Uh… Guys…” Doc speaks up to get the attention of his suitemates.

“What is it!?” Simmons snaps.

“I think we missed our exit…”

Simmons shakes his head. “There hasn’t been an exit in ten miles. What do you mean we missed our exit?”

“That was it… ten miles ago…” Doc pointed out. His voice suddenly dropped an octave, “You fool. I wanted to see how long it would take you. Now you are truly stranded and nobody will find your body.”

“We’re going to miss the ceremony!” Simmons panics, turning the car around so fast that Doc was thrown into the door.

“We’ll make it to the reception at least,” Donut shrugged, holding onto his seat for dear life.

Simmons manages to get to the location of the wedding with the car in one piece and no casualties, but it just so happened to be about an hour late. By the time they arrive, the ceremony is officially over, and the guests had moved a ways farther into the park to enjoy the wedding reception.

The trio of not-so-fashionably-late men run through the empty chairs of the ceremony, following the sound of music and conversation.

Donut runs ahead of the group with Doc at his heels, as if it was a race to see who could get to Sarge first. “Don’t be slowing down now, Simmons!” He calls out over his shoulder, “We’ve only been at it for a minute. Don’t tell me you’re already hot and sweaty?”

“Donut, shut UP!” Simmons yells at his friend, adjusting his maroon tie as they run. “Sarge is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me! We missed his wedding ceremony, for fuck’s sake!”

“Well, then we better get to him quick, for the sake of fuck!”

“I do not think that’s how the expression goes…” Doc points out.

Donut does not have much time to respond. The three men stumble upon the reception area, crashing into each other and a few of the other guests. It starts a domino effect of tumbles and grunts of pain and surprise, and ends in a table toppling over with half a dozen expensive wine glasses.

Simmons shakes his head, pushing himself up with his elbows. He winces at the grass stains that already formed on his jacket, and the sting of a bruise forming on his jaw from the fall. His eyes catch a pair of brown armored boots approaching, possibly belonging to the only guest with any kind of armor on.

<<Hacia tiempo que llegaran, pendejos,>> A metallic voice speaks from the direction of the boots.

Simmons sits himself up and cranes his neck to stare into Lopez’s visor. “Nice to see you too, Lopez,” He wheezes, catching his breath.

By the time he gets to his feet, Donut is already throwing himself at the robot to greet him, earning himself only endless incomprehensible Spanish from the robot. Donut takes them as “I missed you”’s, but Simmons is not so sure if that was the true meaning of those words. It is Lopez they are dealing with, though, so Simmons decides to drop it in favor of looking for his former leader in order to apologize for their tardiness.

He spots Sarge across the reception party, sitting beside his new wife, clad in white, and another man who he could barely recognize from the distance. Clouds dance overhead, cooling down the park and Simmons’ worked up gears from all the running they had to do just to get there.

Simmons weaves around the tables hurriedly, tripping over the chair legs on his way to Sarge’s table. He bends over one of the chairs, catching his breath once he finally reaches it. With his head still down, touching the thin plastic tablecloth, he speaks. “Sir, I am so sorry we missed the ceremony,” He brings up his head for a second just to look Dr. Grey in the eyes. “Congratulations on the wedding though. I’m sure it was beautiful.” He drops his head again. “Please don’t be mad. It was all because-”

“You boys were out fighting the blues in my name!” Sarge interrupts him. Simmons lifts his head again, looking up at his former leader, wine glass in hand. “How can I be mad about that? You found out they were infiltrating civilian ranks! Just as I feared- Leave it to Simmons to lead an attack. That’s a damn good wedding present if I ever heard of one.”

Simmons facepalms, “I knew I forgot something back at the apartment…”

Gray could not help but chuckle in amusement. “Don’t mind him, he’s just had a tad too much to drink. You know how it is, with so much alcohol being passed around. Say, is that purple friend of yours around?”

Simmons furrows his eyebrows at Grey’s sudden change in conversation and her overly enthusiastic expression when mentioning Doc, but the third person on the table beats him to a speaking turn, slamming his glass on the table.

“What do you mean blues infiltrating civilian ranks?” Tucker, as equally intoxicated as Sarge, steers back the conversation. “Dude, the war is over . Anyways, your guys could never win an attack against any blues.”

“That’s what you think, you filthy blue,” Sarge replies, lifting his free arm, which Grey had hers hooked on, to point at the former blue soldier. “But I know my boys better than anyone. They may be a nuisance but they are my boys.”

Simmons blinks slowly, processing the fact that Sarge was actually saying positive about them. “Sarge…”

“Nah, man. Blue team was far superior,” Tucker tries to argue. “Caboose, the damn idiot he is, is already better than your whole group combined.”

“Did Tucker say something nice about me?” A familiar voice calls out from the reception hall.

Tucker turns to the direction of the voice. “Shut up, Caboose! I’m trying to convince Sarge that red team sucks!”

“The sharing of intimate thoughts while inebriated is quite fun to watch, isn't it?” Grey asks Simmons, who straightens himself as the argument unfolds.

“Alright, that’s enough,” A blonde man walks up from behind Tucker, taking the glass of whatever he was drinking from his grasp. He holds it far away enough that no matter how Tucker stretches, he cannot reach the glass. “We have to go pick up Junior from your mother’s house, remember?”

“But babe-”

“If we don’t leave now, you’re catching a ride back with Caboose,” Washington states as stern as he could, but a smile plays at his lips nonetheless.

Tucker sighs, “Fine.” He lifts his arm and Washington grabs hold of it to pull him to his feet.

“Another victory for the reds!” Sarge cheers, leaning back in his chair.

“Why’d you have to marry him?” Tucker grumbles at Dr. Gray, who just laughs in reply.

Simmons takes it as his cue to leave as well. It was a party after all, and parties usually involved socialization. Since he is finally here, and Sarge did not kill him for being late, Simmons decides to wander through the crowd and look for familiar faces.

He finally finds the man he was not aware that he was looking for, hiding away from the crowd and next to the buffet table with a plate piled past his head with different types of desserts. Simmons approaches him without thinking about it, only catching his attention when he finally speaks.

“I’m surprised you haven’t eaten half of the buffet table by now.”

Grif turns his head to look at Simmons, swallowing whatever he was working on. His hair is neatly pulled back for once, and the suit is a little disorienting to Simmons at first. “I’m surprised you even showed up,” Grif joked back. “Thought the fact that Sarge got married without asking you to be his right-hand man killed your from the shock.”

Simmons scoffs, “As if. I called that Lopez would be picked for right-hand man since the engagement. Remember?”

“Like you remembered to get here on time,” Grif teases, elbowing Simmons on the side.

Simmons drops his head in his hands, laughing out of nervousness. “Don’t remind me. Donut and Doc were playing I spy for three hours. Three hours, Grif. ” He sighed. “My suit is covered in grass stains, my car smells like whatever awful dish Doc was eating on the way here, and I missed the whole wedding ceremony. Today couldn’t get any worse.”

Thunder rumbles overhead. A couple of droplets hit Simmons on the head.

“You were saying?” Grif raises an eyebrow in amusement.

As soon as Grif spoke, the rain all hit at once. Guests scramble to find cover under their coats and under tables to protect themselves and their expensive garments from the rain. At this point, Simmons just allows himself to be drenched. He lifts his head once again, watching the chaos in utter silence.

Simmons turns to Grif, “Who’d you bring?”

“My sister,” the other man states, motioning over to a crowd of guests. In the midst of the chaos, Kaikaina was laughing at Doc, whose purple suit was dark with mud stains. “She wasn’t mentioned on the invite, but she wanted to come, so I said I’d bring her as a plus one.” He turns his face toward Simmons, “Why? Who else would I bring?”

“Sister…” Simmons repeats. “Of course it was Sister!” He facepalms.

“You know…” Grif shrugs. “She was talking to Tucker today about possibly trying out for a job at his workplace. Wanted to see what living in a mainland city was like.”

“So?”

“I have to tickets back to Hawaii, and she won’t be using hers,” Grif explains. “Could give you an excuse away from this awful weather.”

Simmons looks over at Grif for a second before hitting his side with his hipbone. “Next time, you could ask me to come visit like a normal human, you asshat.”

“Is that a yes?” Grifs asks expectantly.

Simmons could not help but smile. “Of course it’s a yes. Now move your fat ass to the tents or we’re gonna catch a cold.”

#powerfulpomegranate #rvb #rvbsecretsanta17 #red vs blue #rvb fanfic #grimmons #sargrey #tuckington #richard simmons #dexter grif #colonel sarge #doctor grey #franklin delano donut #frank dufresne #lavernius tucker #kaikaina grif #agent washington #qc post

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arson-goku · 6 years

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Here’s my @redvsbluesecretsanta piece for @ehpsilon aka grimmmons! Can you believe I didn’t ship this pair before starting this piece? I was a fool, thank you for opening my eyes through your prompt. Happy Holidays!

#red vs blue #rvb #kaikaina grif #agent carolina #rvbsecretsanta17 #simmart

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quetzalcactus · 6 years

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@agent-murica Merry christmas from your secret santa!!! I hope you have a wonderful day :) @redvsbluesecretsanta

#rvbsecretsanta17 #the reds #agent carolina #dexter grif #rvb locus #samuel ortez #Franklin Delano Donut #colonel sarge #richard simmons #lopez the heavy #art #I was soo busy i didnt even get a chance to start this untill a week ago #but its done!#and im really happy with it so i hope murica likes it too :)#anyway i love their aweful base

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sheogayrath · 6 years

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some churcheroonies for @xadoheandterra, hope you like it! @redvsbluesecretsanta

#rvbsecretsanta17 #leonard church #rvb #red vs blue #rooster teeth #mine #my art

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all-made-of-stardust · 6 years

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RvB Secret Santa 2017

Here’s my contribution to the secret santa @redvsbluesecretsanta: a Kimbalina playlist for @jesprnoxx

Click through to play, and enjoy!

https://8tracks.com/pinkjaguar12/victory-s-contagious

(art credit @pure-plum)

#rvbsecretsanta17 #my fiction #kimbalina #rvb

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bizarrebird · 6 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington Characters: Lavernius Tucker, Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Junior (Red vs. Blue) Additional Tags: RvB Secret Santa, Fluff, just pure tooth rotting fluff, Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Mistletoe, Snowball Fight Summary:

Tucker doesn't think he's much of a winter person, but as the weeks pass and things shift into place, he's starting to change his mind. Even if there's no way to make a terrible Christmas sweater sexy.

For @littlefists for @redvsbluesecretsanta! This got longer than I meant it to, but I hope you like it! Happy Holidays!

#rvbsecretsanta17 #tuckington #my writing #gift fic

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sroloc--elbisivni · 6 years

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RvB: A Red Team Celebration

@redvsbluesecretsanta

Merry Christmas, @mercuryblacksleg! Hope you like your Secret Santa gift!

Summary: Red Team doesn’t exactly do holidays traditionally, or tastefully, but they never fail in their enthusiasm. Featuring Lopez the Christmas tree, lights on a Warthog, and a thirty-foot menorah made out of flamethrowers. Gen fluff. Light Grimmons, light sarge/grey.

“Uh. Excuse me, but what the fuck.”

Donut looked up from where he was stringing popcorn onto a needle to see Grif and Simmons staring from the doorway.

“What?” Donut said serenely, threading another piece of popcorn before holding up the string to eyeball it. “It’s traditional. Here, Lopez, hold this for me?”

”No.”

Donut sighed, sticking the end to Lopez’s head with a piece of tape instead, just below the star. “Hmm. Now I know size doesn’t matter, but this could really use a few more inches.”

Grif was still staring, but now his hand was creeping towards the popcorn bowl, so Donut had to smack him away. “Honestly, Grif, I know you love choking it down, but you can walk to the kitchen. I’m using that.”

Simmons, his head poking through the door from behind Grif, blinked. “Is—what happens when he walks away?”

“He won’t. After Sarge got done with him, it turns out he won’t be able to walk for days!”

Lopez rotated his head, disturbing the tinsel around his neck and sending a few pieces scattering on the floor. The ornaments Donut had taped on a few minutes ago jingled, but didn’t fall off. ”Help me. Please.”

“Oh, Lopez, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t add the lights yet. Sarge hasn’t finished painting them all red!”

Grif came back from the kitchen, holding popcorn. “Okay. I’m probably going to regret this, but one question: why.”

“I told you. It’s traditional.”

Simmons made a face. “No, trees are traditional. This—I don’t know what this is, I think it might be cruelty to robots.”

”Thank you.”

“Not that it really matters, since Lopez doesn’t care.”

“I will pour motor oil on the things you love.”

“Do you see any trees around here?” Donut waved one hand to indicate the room, as well as the general idea of ‘island in the middle of nowhere.’ “And aw, Lopez, that’s sweet!”

“What is?”

“He said he loves us.”

Simmons pulled off a dubious expression very well. Half of his face being metal really helped.

“Huh.” Grif stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, looking thoughtful. “Got any more of those lights?” He moved the bowl out of Simmons’ reach before he could grab some.

“Sarge took all of ours, but I think Blue Team still has some from that whole Caboose debacle.”

“Cool. See you later.” Grif took the bowl of popcorn with him.

Donut went back to stringing on popcorn, humming Christmas music. That didn’t mean he missed Simmons’ hand sneaking towards the bowl.

“Ow! Donut!”

“Oh, stop whining. It wasn’t even anywhere tender.”

Carolina hadn’t really stopped for the holidays in a long time, before Chorus. There was always somewhere to be, things to do, people to hunt down, information to find, training. Always something.

And then she had stumbled into a corner of Armonia where someone had carefully framed a computer chip on the wall, a piece of masking tape stuck onto it reading “ תוֹרָה.” On the table beneath it had been a single lamp, powered by a jury-rigged battery.

Carolina remembered standing at the doorway of that little room for a long, long time.

Now she was standing at the doorway of the base, and had been for a long time, but for a very different reason.

“Sarge,” she said, finally. “That...I appreciate the offer, but I don’t--it doesn’t need to be that much fire.”

Sarge looked up from where he was using a sledgehammer and stakes to make sure the last flamethrower was secured completely to the welded-together scrap metal. Carolina could barely see him in the gathering dark. “What?”

Carolina sighed, and took a deep breath to raise her voice. “It doesn’t need that much fire!”

“WHAT?”

Carolina cupped her hands around her mouth. “IT--DOESN’T--NEED--” She stopped shouting and looked again.

Sarge was working on the last of nine upright, oversized flamethrowers he and Simmons had spent most of the day modifying after she had asked--naïvely--if the base had any candles laying around, because she wanted to put together a menorah. The answer had been no. Or, more accurately, the answer had been no, and then Sarge getting a very worrying glint in his eye.

And now there was a giant menorah of scrap metal and flamethrowers put together on the lawn in front of Red Base. She could just barely see where Simmons was hanging onto the far left one, hitting it with a wrench.

It was ridiculous. It was probably going to blow up in a few hours.

And it was...actually kind of sweet.

“YOU KNOW WHAT? NEVER MIND.”

Grif came up behind her, munching on something. “Has anything blown up yet?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Carolina tipped her head to the side, watching as Simmons almost fell off. He and Sarge shouted at each other for a few more minutes before Sarge climbed down.

“HEY!” Simmons squawked. “I’M STILL--NO NONONONONON--”

Simmons did fall off this time, as Sarge started cackling maniacally, and ended up rolling onto the ground. Carolina could admit that at least all the Reds and Blues knew how to fall properly.

“I’m okay!”

“Nerd,” Grif mumbled, around a mouthful of something. “Oh, hey. Here.”

Carolina looked down to see him offering an unopened bag of potato chips. “What’s this for?”

“Simmons said you eat fried potato things. Right?” He sounded a little bit uncertain.

Carolina took the bag of chips, trying not to laugh. “Thank, Grif. It means a lot.”

“HEY! ARE WE GONNA LIGHT THIS THING OR WHAT?”

“Wait! I’m getting the cookies!” Donut rushed past with a dish of cookies that Carolina was reasonably sure--when she squinted--were frosted dreidels.

Well then.

Grif gestured with his own bag of chips. “After you.”

The remote starter Sarge had put together worked perfectly, so after Carolina had stumbled her way through the songs she could just barely remember, the buttons were pushed so first the center, then the far left spout went up in flames.

Donut clapped excitedly. Grif swiped a cookie. Sarge cackled.

“Wait,” Carolina said, as realization hit her. “Where’s Lopez?”

“I hate all of you.”

Dr. Grey made a thoughtful sound as she examined the setup. “Is that…comfortable?”

“No. This entire situation is despicable. If I had a nervous system, I would be ready to rip it out just to end the suffering.”

“Lopez says he’s snug as a bug in a rug, Dr. Grey!”

“If you’re sure,” she said, already moving on. “Ooh, Donut, those look lovely.”

“My aunt Agatha’s own recipe,” he replied, cheerfully. “And let me say again just how glad we are to have you here for the holidays, Dr. Grey.”

“Oh, just call me Emily. After all, I’m not here to patch you up!”

“Well I’d be happy to take a checkup from you anytime.”

Grif had already absconded with a plate of cookies to sit by the TV, where Simmons was arguing holiday movie selections with Caboose. No one was sure why Caboose was there. No one really knew how to get rid of him.

“No—Caboose, we’re not going to watch Love Actually. It doesn’t even count as a Christmas movie.”

“Yes it does. It is snowing. So it is Christmas.”

Carolina, from where she was watching the whole thing, snorted into her cocoa.

“It’s not—Grif, back me up here.”

“Hey, I said we should watch Die Hard.”

Simmons sputtered. “That’s even less of a Christmas movie.”

“Ooh! Stranger Things!”

“No!” Simmons put his head in his hands. “Look. Can’t we all agree on one terrible stop-motion animation Christmas special?”

“That shit is nightmare fuel,” Grif complained.

“We’ve almost died like, ten times in the past year, and that’s what you’re calling nightmare fuel?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I do not want the little elf to pull my teeth,” Caboose said seriously.

“I hate all of you,” Simmons said, flatly. “I mean it this time. I really do.”

Grif shrugged and ate another cookie.

The door to the base slammed open, heralding Sarge’s entrance. “Treason! Disaster! Subterfuge!”

The room looked up at him.

“Those filthy blues have covered our warthog—the great and mighty transportation of the Red Army—in lights! Of the worst color—blue!”

Grif quietly collected the plate of cookies and tried to sneak towards the door.

“Private Grif! What kind of desertion are you trying to pull?”

“Desertion?” Grif said, tone innocent as he could manage. “No desertion. Just going to investigate. Sir.”

“Hmph.” Sarge looked like he wanted to argue, but Grif figured the combined opportunity to get rid of him, plus the idea of figuring out what was going on, was too good to pass up. “Well. I suppose even you have to be useful sometimes, Private Grif. On accident. Barely.”

Grif rolled his eyes and grabbed another couple of cookies off of Donut’s tray before vanishing out the door.

It was quiet and dark out—aside from the five lit flamethrowers on the menorah. Carolina had pointed out that they only needed to burn for half an hour, but when they had all stared at her, she had added, “…but they can always go for longer, I guess.”

Grif took his cookies well away from the giant columns of fire, heading for the Warthog covered in Christmas lights.

He hadn’t been the one who changed them all to blue. He would have done it, if he’d thought of it, but he hadn’t. So sue him.

Point was, Grif hadn’t done it. And the only one who’d been out here since they’d gone inside after lighting up the menorah had been Sarge. So either it was the Blues pulling a prank—which, Tucker and Wash were alone in their base with Caboose gone, so Grif would bet they were busy—or someone else.

Grif was betting on the someone else.

He put the plate of cookies on part of the frame while he climbed up into the back, legs dangling off the edge. His heels kicked, almost absent-mindedly, and Grif pulled a gingerbread cookie off the plate to bite the limbs off while he watched the dark.

It was almost easier watching for this without a helmet. Seeing the world through a visor, you got used to distortion, little ripples flickering around everything. It was harder to pick out what didn’t belong.

Bare-eyed, he could see the soft flicker of camouflaged armor moving towards the Warthog.

There were a few loud creaks, and the Warthog shifted as weight pressed on one side of its frame, but the air next to Grif still looked pretty empty.

“Dude,” Grif said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what kind of superpowers you’ve got. If you want one of these, you’re gonna have to take the helmet off.”

There was a long pause, and then Locus’ familiar armor shimmered into view, and his hands reached up to pull off his helmet.

You look like shit, Grif kind of wanted to say, but he didn’t, because he knew that feeling. So instead, he grabbed another couple of cookies and shoved the plate over.

Locus took one, hesitantly, and turned it over to examine the sprinkles.

“Blue?” Grif asked, just to fill in the silence. “Really?”

“Green seemed…too obvious.” He glanced back at the Warthog in all its twinkling glory. “Your handiwork?”

“What, you’re gonna pretend you weren’t watching?”

The silence spoke for itself. Grif snorted.

“Yeah,” he said, running one hand over the lights. “It’s something…back home. It was this whole thing, when I was a kid. People would put lights all over their cars, and on Christmas day there’d be this big parade. One giant party on the beach.” It felt weird, admitting that, even though he knew he’d said more embarrassing shit when Locus was helping him recue the guys.

Locus didn’t say anything, just chewing on the cookie.

“Look,” Grif said, finally, after the silence had gone on way too long. “Do you want to come inside? We’re gonna argue about stop motion for probably ten more minutes and then put on the Muppets Christmas Carol. There’s popcorn and shit. It’ll be fine.”

“That seems…unwise.”

Grif shrugged. He hadn’t been sure it was going to work. “Suit yourself.”

But he didn’t make any move to go anywhere for another few long minutes.

When there was a faint scream from inside the base, though, he sighed and rolled forward, landing on his feet. “Anyway. I better go back in. Offer’s open if you get cold. And keep the cookies, Donut’s been baking like a nutcase.”

Locus looked up from the single cookie with a bite out he was still playing with, and nodded.

Grif made it five steps away before he heard his name called out, and turned back around to see Locus watching him, almost sheepish.

“I…thank you.”

Grif shrugged. “No problem, dude. Merry Christmas.”

When he made it back inside, the alien and the rat puppets were already up on screen, yammering about something or other, so it seemed things were right on schedule. Lopez was in the corner, muttering death threats, so whenever Sarge reactivated his leg servos Grif was going to go on a long walkabout. Donut had settled on the couch with Caboose, Sarge and Dr. Grey were cuddled up together in a chair (ew ew ew ew ew) and Carolina was resting her feet on an old engine and working her way through another cup of cocoa.

Simmons was on the far end of the couch, so Grif detoured to grab some cookies and a blanket before flopping down at his feet, leaning back against the couch and making Simmons jump.

“Dude, chill.”

“You chill,” Simmons muttered, darkly, but didn’t flinch away again.

Cookies. Cheesy movies. Giant flamethrowers and lurking reformed bad guy outside. Blanket and Simmons to lean against.

Not a bad setup, all things considered.

Grif gave it ten minutes before asking, “So, Die Hard?”

Simmons’ hand, where it had been creeping into Grif’s hair, yanked away to bring a pillow thumping down on his head.

#hope this fits what you asked for!#might've forgotten about doc until i was almost done and then gone 'whatever'#Red vs Blue #rvb fanfic #rvbsecretsanta17 #this was fun #internet blew out for most of the day sorry it's kinda late #sroloc writes stuff #red vs blue fanfic #red vs blue fanfiction

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yawaribleubear · 6 years

Text

RvB Secret Santa Gift

Hello, this was a secret santa gift for @sroloc--elbisivni for the @redvsbluesecretsanta event this year! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Tucker and Wash meet in a cafe one Christmas evening. A writer meeting a barista is bound to go well.

Pairing: Tuckington

“One Caffe Americano with two extra shots of espresso ready for action!”

It was an extremely busy day at the coffee shop. Tucker was busting out drinks like crazy while York was helping guests at the register and Carolina was serving guests at their tables. The holidays seemed to get a little crazy, but hey, it made the small shop money. They’re not really going to complain.

“Two Caramel Macchiatos and one Eggnog Latte with no whipped cream coming up!” Tucker slid the drinks on the counter as Carolina placed them on her tray.

“How much longer until the rush is over?” She put the tray down and adjusted her ponytail before picking it back up.

“Probably another hour.” Tucker groaned. “My hands are getting tired from making all of these drinks.”

“No kidding. My feet are starting to kill me.”

“Enough chit chat, guys! And lady. We got some guests to finish serving,” York called out from his register.

“Then how about you do it, Mr. I’m-Suave-And-Better-At-Making-Coffee?” Tucker raised an eyebrow and dared him to take the challenge.

“I think I will.” York finished up and switched spots with Tucker, throwing on his apron and settling in for work.

Carolina just rolled her eyes and walked away. She’ll never really understand why they tend to compete the way they do, but it works. With one foot after the other, she set about the cafe and got to work.

Meanwhile Tucker was settling behind the register, apron off and smooth smile ready. “And what can I get for you lovely women this afternoon?”

The two girls swooned at his voice, his eyes inviting them to spend their money and buy a very expensive coffee. Tucker knew exactly how to go about customer service, especially with the ladies. They promptly ordered their drinks and he rang them up. Another sale for the shop.

~~~~~~

“Finally, the rush is done.” Tucker took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair carefully. It wasn’t that the rush was bad- they know how to deal with rush hour. It was the fact that it was Christmas Eve and they were all ready to go home to their families. York and Carolina had planned to head home and spend Christmas with their families, while Tucker was going to hang out with Church for a little bit before heading home for the evening. Christmas was nice and all, but visiting his family in Texas was difficult as it is. He opted out of this year, but promised to visit for New Year’s instead. His little nieces and nephews were going to be excited about the gifts he sent them this year.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Tucker turned around to see a man whose aura screamed at him. Blonde hair with gray streaks, a scar going down his right eye and several scattered on his nose, and a blue sweater and muscly arms decorated his upper body.. His eyes were a lovely shade of grey with specks of gold here and there. He looked to be Tucker’s age, maybe a little older. Whatever the case may be, he appeared to be tired.

“Hi there.” Tucker felt speechless. For the first time, he was speechless. This man, he was beautiful. More beautiful than all of the women he had ever saw in his life, more beautiful than the men he usually hung out with.

“Hey. Can I get an iced latte with two shots of espresso, extra whipped cream, and a shot of caramel and chocolate?”

He had a sweet tooth. Tucker wrote down his order on the cup. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Hmm… I’ll take that breakfast sandwich you guys have.”

He loved savory items to balance out the sweetness. “Which one? We have the…” Tucker droned on about the kinds of breakfast sandwiches they had, hoping to keep him in his life for just a little longer.

“That sounds amazing. I’ll take two of the bacon, gouda, and egg sandwich.” The man smiled sweetly at him. “And I’ll also take some of that classic coffee cake.”

“Warmed up?”

“Yes, please.”

Tucker rang him up at the register. “Coffee cake’s on the house, okay?”

The man was pulling out his card when he looked back up at Tucker. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Okay Tucker, you can do this.

“Anything for a gorgeous man like you.”

The man couldn’t help but blush, coughing a little as he placed his card into the reader. “U-Uh, thank you very much.”

“No no, thank you! Can I get your name, please?”

“Washington.” He pulled his card out a few seconds later and placed it back into his wallet.

“Washington. I really like that name.” He wrote it down and slid the cup towards York. “We’ll deliver your drink and food to your table shortly.”

“Thanks.” Washington smiled and walked away, heading to his table to sit and check his laptop. Did the barista really just flirt with him?

“Carol, mind switching with me?” Tucker had finished warming up Wash’s food as York called out the drink.

“About time my feet get to rest.” She happily switched with him and rested behind the counter. At least there was a stool, so she could sit for a while.

“You can thank me later.” He grinned and placed his order on the tray. Tucker swiftly made his way to Wash’s table and placed everything down in front of him.

“Alright, here’s your latte, your two sandwiches, and that coffee cake. Anything else you’d like?”

For Tucker to sit with him. “I think I’m good. What’s your name?”

“Name’s Tucker. Most people call me-”

“No we don’t!” Carolina called from the register with a smug grin on her face. Tucker was going to get her back for that someday.

“Anyway, nice meeting you Wash. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Actually- I have one request.”

Tucker placed the tray under his arm and nodded. “Alright, shoot.”

“Do you mind sitting with me for a while?” He had a look of pure innocence in his eyes. It tugged at Tucker’s heart.

“Sure thing. Lemme put this tray back.” Tucker quickly walked over to York and slid the tray to him. “I’m on break for eternity.”

“I had a feeling.” York chuckled and handed him a drink. “That’s for you. Carol suggested I make it as a surprise.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll see you two in a bit.” Tucker walked back over to Washington’s table and sat down in front of him.

“Welcome back.” Wash moved his laptop aside and placed his dinner in front of him.

“Thank you. Just curious- what are you working on right now?”

“On my laptop?” Wash took a sip of his latte.

“Yeah.” Tucker took a sip of his mystery drink as well. It was hot chocolate with peppermint in it. Not bad, York.

“Oh. I’m a writer, so I work on my books when I swing by here.” He flipped his laptop around for Tucker to see. “Wanna read something I’m working on?”

Tucker put his drink down and paid 100% attention to Wash and his work. “I’d be more than happy to.”

His eyes set to work on reading, the words on the screen slowly being processed by his mind. Wash had a way with words, more than he ever will. Unlike Tucker, Washington made the words into art. They danced along his screen with ease, his sentences were hand-crafted with love and passion behind it all, and the way his characters were coming to life was nothing like he had seen before. Tucker was amazed when he finished reading a few minutes later. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and turned back to Washington, who was anxiously waiting for a response.

“Wash… that was fucking good.” Listen, he had a comprehensible sentence in mind before he put it into practice.

“Thank you. I’ve spent weeks working on this chapter. I think it’s just about done, actually.”

“How much more do you plan on writing?”

“About two more should do it.” Wash took a bite of his sandwich and moaned in delight. “This is mouth-watering. Do you guys make this every morning?”

“Pretty much. Our chef in the back makes them before we come in for work, so we package it and have it ready for customers by the time we open up.” Tucker will have to thank Donut for his cooking skills later before he leaves.

“You guys are really good at your job, that’s for sure. No wonder you’re very popular in town.”

Tucker smiled at him. “Why thank you very much. We’re always trying to make sure the place gives off a good vibe, ya know?”

“Indeed it does.” The two men sat in silence for a minute before Tucker spoke once more.

“Hey Wash, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Not really. I was planning on heading home and writing the rest of the evening. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering…” Tucker, don’t fuck this up. “Do you wanna spend Christmas with me? I was just going to head back home too, but I figured we can get to know each other a lot more that way. Consider it a gift from me to you.”

Washington was ecstatic. He couldn’t see his family this year due to his schedule, but at least he can spend it with someone he thoroughly enjoyed being around. “I’m in.”

“Great! I’m off my shift in about 20 minutes, sound good to you?”

“Perfect. I can get this done in that same amount of time.” His eyes lit up with a fire Tucker hadn’t seen when he first walked into the cafe. He now had a personal mission to show Washington a good time this Christmas Eve.

“Great. I’ll get back to work now. See you in 20 minutes.”

~~~~~~

Truth be told, Tucker grabbed his stuff and wished York and Carolina a “Happy Holidays” before leaving for the evening. He walked over to Wash, who was typing away at his laptop, and gently tapped on his shoulder. “Hey man, ready to head out?”

Wash looked up slightly startled and nodded. “Yeah, lemme just pack up and we can get going.”

“No need to rush. I got all the time in the world.” Tucker watched as he packed his laptop and leftover food into his bag, throwing his cup away as they walked out of the cafe and into the cold night air. He wrapped his scarf around his neck as they caught a bus back to his house.

Washington was tired and leaned his head against Tucker’s shoulder, his eyes closing as he rested for a little bit. Tucker allowed him to do so, a feeling in his gut telling him that he’s had long nights working on his masterpiece. Overall, it was a nice time. He eventually woke him up once they reached his stop, helping him off the bus as they walked inside his small home and turned on the heater.

“How do you feel about chicken alfredo for dinner?” Tucker hung his coat and placed his bag on the couch.

“Sounds great. Need any help with cooking?” Wash placed his bag on the floor next to the couch.

“If you want.” Tucker shrugged and made his way into the kitchen.

“I’d love to help you out.”

Wash and Tucker listen to some music while making dinner for the night, Wash poking fun at his playlist while Tucker made fun of how he cut chicken (“What do you mean I’m not cutting it right?!”). They cooked up the pasta and sat in the dining room for their dinner tonight.

“So, Wash, tell me more about yourself.”

Wash was in the middle of chewing on a piece of chicken when he quickly swallowed. “Well, I’m a writer, that much you know. I’m going to be a proud owner of a cat soon, I was in the military for a few years, got my degree in Creative Writing, and now I live in this city pursuing my dream. And I can cook some mean pasta.”

Tucker chuckled at the last part. “It definitely proves well. Tastes much better than what I usually make.”

“Why thank you.” He smiled softly. “What about you, Tucker?”

“Oh, me? I just run the cafe with my friends, dabble in dancing, and take care of my dog who’s sleeping in his bed right now.”

“So I didn’t imagine that dog when I walked in here?” Wash took a sip of his water.

“Nope. Freckles is pretty old, but he can fend for himself when I’m down at the shop.” He took another bite of his pasta. “Seriously, this is some good shit, how do you do it?”

“Lots of practice.” The two continued their small banter throughout dinner, the night seeming to fly away as they spent the rest of Christmas Eve watching old movies on the couch and eventually sleeping together on said couch around two in the morning. Luckily, the cafe was closed for the entire day, so Tucker didn’t have to leave his side. Now all he has to do is ask for his number before he leaves his house after Christmas, but Tucker can figure that out later.

#tuckington #rvb #tucker/washington #hope i'm using the right tags #rvb secret santa 2017 #the panda writes #rvbsecretsanta17

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redvsbluesecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Secret Santa FAQ pt. 2

Hi everyone! Thank you for responding to your check-ins! I still have a couple of people who haven’t messaged me back yet, but after squinting very hard at those names for a minute I decided that you look like you’re on track! But please still respond!!!! I’m too cute to be this stressed! (Just kidding lmao)

Anyways! The day is ALMOST HERE!! Are you ready??? I’m ready!! The question on everyone’s lips seems to be.........

What do I do the day of posting?

1) Posting is on either the 25th or the 26th--whichever is more convenient for you!!

2) No matter where you primarily host your present, if you decide not to post it directly on tumblr, please include a link to it in your tumblr post!

3) Tag your recipient so that they know they got their present!

4) Also tag this blog ( @redvsbluesecretsanta ) in your post because that’s usually the easiest way for me to find them!

5) But also use the tag rvbsecretsanta17! I’ll try to find it there, too!

6) I will reblog everyone’s present to this blog for archival purposes!

I hope you’re all having a great time putting the finishing touches on--or still working on, no judgment!--your presents!!

~ @hakanakiki

#mod post #rvbsecretsanta17

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xadoheandterra · 6 years

Text

A Shadow of a Bittersweet Memory

Fandom: Red vs Blue Characters: Agent Texas | Beta, Church | Alpha, Agent Carolina, Dr. Leonard Church | Director Summary: Her existence started as pain, abandonment, and loss. It took time, but she found herself along the way--from Allison, to Agent Texas, to Beta, to Tex--and, in the end, that is all that matters.

For @akisawana and the @redvsbluesecretsanta this year! It’s Christmas Eve for me, but I’ve been waiting to post this since I got the information on whom I was Santa. Such inspiration~

A copy of this is going up on AO3 and FFN.

She woke up to this world screaming.

It felt like a whole part of herself was torn asunder, ripped into jagged edges of pain and sorrow. My fault her entire being radiated, my failure, my fault, mine. She felt broken and twisted and bereft—go away, stop, leave me, I can’t—her thoughts were fragmented where the jagged edges ached. It felt like someone went and tore her straight into two; straight down the middle and then snatched away the rest of her and left her to bleed out and die.

Coherent thought didn’t exist; not yet, not now. Memory didn’t exist—only the pain and emptiness of being ripped away, of being abandoned. She came into the world screaming as an infant; she woke up screaming as an adult. Pain became her very existence. Regret choked her. Failure defined her.

She woke up to this world in pain.

He called her Allison.

“Call me Leonard.”

He said she lost her memory in an accident. That she’d been in a coma for years. That they had a daughter, that he missed her, that he wanted to save her and he finally—finally—succeeded.

“What do you remember, Allison?”

They were married, Leonard told her. They were married—except she didn’t believe it. Not really. Her heart thrummed with loss, loss, loss, loss and save me, save me, save me, save me. There was someone else, she realized. Someone far more important to her than Leonard. Someone different.

“We’re not married.”

She told him this plainly, breath ghosted as he grasped her hand with some sort of desperation.

“We’re not…”

“We are, Allison. We are—you came back to me.”

Wrong, her heart beat. Wrong, failure, save me, loss, wrong. Allison breathed out slowly, let this man she didn’t know fall into his own delusion. She couldn’t break him of it—and some part of him was familiar, so familiar it hurt.

“The memories will come back, I promise.”

“You’ll see.”

“Allison.”

Allison; he called her Allison. It never felt quite right.

Agent Texas had a nice ring to it.

She stared down at her gloved hands, wrapped in power armor, and flex her fingers with a pleased sort of hum. It had taken her months of wearing down the Director—Leonard, Allison, call me Leonard please—of bittersweet promises to always come home before he even thought to let her join the Project. She never did ask what happened to the last Agent Texas on the roster—no one really knew what happened she learned from subtle prodding.

A secret then, she concluded. A secret worth uncovering, perhaps. Perhaps later, perhaps never, perhaps—she didn’t like secrets, she realized with a bitter frown.

Loss, save me, failure, wrong, help, why—

She did like the sound of Agent Texas—much better than Allison that never quite fit right, never quite sounded right. Agent Texas didn’t sound right either, but it was better. It was close.

Agent Texas had a really nice ring to it.

She liked Agent Texas.

“Your life is a lie.”

“Your memories, a lie.”

Texas looked at Carolina and fought down the force of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. This wasn’t her daughter. She wasn’t Allison Church. She wasn’t.

It felt so real, now—Texas ground her teeth together. She pressed her heels into the ground.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she ground out and pushed down everything—everything—

“She’s not your daughter.”

“He lied.”

They fought, and all Texas could think about while she dodged and blocked and punched and kicked and flew through zero-g was what Leonard told her, what she remembered. How he didn’t want to alarm Carolina, how he wanted to keep her safe—

I don’t want to lose you again, Allison.

—how she’d supposedly been in a coma, how he told their daughter she was dead while he worked to save her. How her coma was caused by the Great War that still raged around them, still burned with anger in her veins—

She won’t recognize you. We have to take it slow.

—and it hurt.

“Give it up, Carolina,” Texas said, and tried to bury the desire to protect, protect, protect, protect.

“I can beat you,” Carolina replied, conviction in her tone of voice. Their rivalry—why were they rivals? Why did Carolina have to be so opposed to her? What was wrong—

“She’s not your daughter.”

“She’s not.”

Texas ground her teeth together as the ship rattled and fell apart around them, as atmosphere began to burn at the glass.

“No.”

Carolina was no match for Texas.

“You.”

Protect, protect, protect, protect.

“Can’t!”

Carolina was no match for Texas. Texas was—

—failure, loss, save me, help, broken—

—simply better.

Connie was correct, Texas realized as she stood in front of Alpha.

Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha.

Texas was not human. Her body couldn’t be human and every action was a carefully crafted mirage. She was Program: Beta, a mere fragment torn away from Program: Alpha. She stared at the tired AI, at how he struggled to form words. Epsilon was still new, the pain of the rip still fresh. Alpha was still tired from breaking at the seams and Texas sighed.

“You’re Alpha,” she told him, and she found herself—silent. Protective. Sad. “You’re Church,” Texas corrected because this AI, this tired being in front of her, was not Alpha. He’d never been Alpha. That was what Leonard—the Director—called him. Alpha deserved a name after everything.

“Right. Church. That’s me.” He didn’t sound wholly convinced, still utterly confused. “And you are…?”

Beta, I’m your Beta. You made me. You made me. How could you forget me? How could you abandon me? Why, why, why, why, why—

—alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha—

“Let’s just say we used to be together,” Texas wanted to smile, wanted to laugh because god that statement was so true and so wrong all at once.

Allison and Leonard.

Beta and Alpha.

What a laugh.

“Oh. Okay.”

God what had they done to him? How much of Alpha was ripped away—how many more like Texas did Leonard—the Director—make? She knew of Alpha Squad’s AI—Gamma, Theta, Epsilon, Delta, Eta, Iota, Sigma, Omega—but this hollowed out shell implied more, more, more, more. What had been done to him?

Texas shoved it aside, shoved aside the bittersweet sorrow that wanted to overwhelm her. “I need you to come with me,” she said, gently, because this broken thing deserved some gentleness in his life. Deserved better than this.

“Oh, I don’t think I can, but thanks.”

What? No.

“I think I’m just gonna, stay here, you know, and rest.”

You—why would you—

“You don’t want to leave?” Texas felt—Texas felt—there was a knife in her. There had to be. How else could this hurt.

“Nah I just-I-I don’t think I can,” Alpha—Church—sounded so confused. So lost.

It’s me, a part of her screamed. Please, recognize me. Come with me. Don’t let him win, don’t let him take you, don’t let him lie to you.

“Okay,” Texas said, voice even softer. She didn’t feel angry just empty, now. “You just…rest, then.” Texas turned to leave, turned to let Alpha—Church—be, because she couldn’t force him. He was her and she was him and his desires ultimately overrode hers in this respect.

“Yeah, uh, what was your—name—was your name—your name again?” he sounded worse and Texas fought down a sob.

“It’s Texas,” Texas said.

Beta, Allison, Texas. Neither fit quite right, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know.

“Texas. Like the state?”

Coherency came and went, and Texas closed her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. States, they were all named after states. Pride in your heritage, pride in the good old United States—Texas. Never before did she honestly hate the name as she did then.

“Funny name for a girl,” Church said with the smallest of a laugh.

“Well Church is—pretty funny name for a guy,” Texas said with a smile and a laugh.

“Texas? Yah name is Texas? Funny name for ah girl.”

“Yeah well Church ain’t any better; funny name for a guy.”

“Ah’ll have yah know that Church is plenty respectable ah name and goes back generations.”

“Sure it does.”

“Call me Leonard, Texas.”

“It’s Allison, Church.”

“You gave me this name, you know,” Texas said. And he had, Texas knew. She read Connie’s files, read the information Connie had gathered for her. The Director had dithered on letting her into the field, but Alpha vouched for her. Alpha suggested she take Agent Texas’ spot—the Agent Texas no one spoke of.

“Wonder why I did that?”

“Maybe if you think about it, it’ll come to you,” Texas told him. She hoped, she prayed—if there was even a God that would listen to a bitter fragment like her—that he remembered at least something. Not the torture, but something of her.

“Yeah I—I’m gonna go rest now. Thanks for coming by.”

Texas clenched her fists, but she understood. He was broken, twisted and jagged at the edges just like her. He was recovering; she had already recovered.

“Yeah, you go rest now,” she said after a moment. “And Church? Goodbye.”

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

“Funny, I don’t know why but, I hate goodbye’s.”

Texas fought down a sob. She knew. “Oh, Church…so do I.”

He shook his head; she already felt the run of her communication with Church ending. There was no more time left.

“Well, see ya,” he said, “crazy…state name…lady.”

“Yah fuckin’ crazy ass state named bitch!”

“Oh shut your gay mouth, bastard.”

“It’s bi, yah damned woman!”

Texas laughed. Texas cried.

Goodbye.

Tex. That was the name she waited to hear all these years. Tex. She wasn’t Allison, she wasn’t Beta, she wasn’t Texas—she was Tex.

It came from Church’s mouth; only fitting he find the right name for her this time when they met again. He called himself a ghost, and she didn’t doubt he believed it. Everything in his riemann matrix would be scrambled to hell and back, the original circuits fried and new paths needed to be reached. He was human, so utterly human that it hurt.

When her own body burned and she jumped ship, when she stood in front of Church in all her holographic glory, mind encompassing the multiple implants to ease the burden like Church did for the others, did Tex decide to stay. This could be interesting, these little ragtag people that Church surrounded himself with. This could be fun.

Tex did leave in the end. There was a war to be fought; she’d forgotten, somewhere along the line, in that distant little Gulch with the Reds and Blues. There was a war to be fought.

Goodbye.

I hate goodbye.

When they met again, it was inside the Meta. They were Eta-Iota-Sigma-Omega-Delta-Theta-Beta—they were the Meta and they weren’t. Tex pulled herself away long enough to stare at Church—to stare at Alpha who stared back at her with a broken, twisted expression.

“He was right, wasn’t he,” Alpha said. “I’m a computer program.”

Tex sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “He was right.”

“We’re gonna die, aren’t we?” Alpha asked, and it hurt. It hurt like ripping, tearing, jagged edges that they all were, that they’d become—scabs and fractures of a mind twisted and broken for so-so long.

“Yeah,” Tex said. “We are.”

“Epsilon’s still out there,” Alpha said, and glanced toward where Washington fumbled.

“So?”

“There’s…a chance—”

Tex sighed. “Let it rest, Church,” she said. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

Alpha paused, then frowned. “I—yeah. I’m tired too.”

Tex reached out and grasped Church’s hand. She smiled bittersweet—bittersweet, everything about them was merely bittersweet.

“At least we’re together,” Church mumbled. “If this is the end—at least we’re together.”

“Yeah,” Tex agreed. “I can’t think of a better way to go.”

Bittersweet, Tex thought, but here she felt whole, connected, accepted, safe, protected—found. He’d found them all, he joined them all, and that was what mattered.

Tex came into this world screaming. Tex woke up in pain. She suffered confusion—Allison, Texas, Beta, Tex—and she found herself. Her name, her being, her reason and truth. She found Alpha—found Church. She faced her demons, she became part of the Meta, and now—now she was whole.

Tex came into this world screaming. She’d leave it in peace.

“I don’t know why, but I hate goodbye’s.”

“I know. I do too.”

“This isn’t goodbye, in the end, is it?”

“No. It never is, between us.”

“It never is.”

Goodbye.

#red vs blue #rvb #agent texas #tex #rvbsecretsanta17 #leonard church #bittersweet #all about tex #goodbye's hurt but they are made with love #akisawana #redvsbluesecretsanta #fic: a shadow of a bittersweet memory #fanfic #fic: gift fic

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