Tryst

         On first thought, Sarge wasn't going to say anything. Disturbed though he was, he recognized that it was not his business, and confronting the culprits would be more embarrassing than anything. He wanted to pretend as though he'd seen nothing.

         On second thought, there was military policy. As much as he would love an excuse to send Grif home, he would have to do the same to Donut; he'd lose half his squad. But by ignoring it, Sarge himself would culpable. He had to put a stop to it.

         He resolved to talk to the soldiers at the conclusion of breakfast the following day. The first thing he noticed was that Grif and Donut were next to each other. Sarge took the seat next to Simmons and across from Donut.

         Breakfast was awkward. Few words were exchanged besides "Pass the eggs?" or "Is there more orange juice?" Donut seemed the only one relatively cheerful. Sarge even once caught him winking at Grif when they exchanged the pancakes for the sausage.

         Sarge was hoping Simmons would be the first to leave the table so that he could have his talk with Grif and Donut in private. Grif always stuck around for seconds (or thirds), and Simmons was eager to get a look at the new ATV. Sarge was thrown for a loop when Donut was first to ask if he could be excused so that he could catch his soap opera.

         "Actually, Donut," Sarge grunted, "I'd like to talk to you and Grif. Now."

         Donut's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Sure, Sarge." He stood up and headed out of the hall, Sarge at his heels.

         "You comin', dirtbag?" the sergeant called back to Grif.

         "Yeah, lemme just finish my juice," he responded. He and Simmons locked eyes across the table.

         "What's going on?" he whispered.

         Grif shrugged. "I'll fill you in later." Once Grif disappeared, however, Simmons followed and pressed his ear to the door.

         "What's up?" Donut asked Sarge once Grif joined them. Sarge sighed.

         "Look, I know what's going on between you two."

         Donut and Grif exchanged looks. "Oh?" Donut asked curiously.

         "Yeah," Sarge growled. "I saw you last night. I don't want to intrude – believe you me – but you put me in a mighty tight bind here. And I don't like being backed into a corner. You know military law on this."

         "Yes, sir!" Donut chirped. "I guess we were feeling adventurous," he giggled, throwing a grin Grif's way. Grif shifted his weight uncomfortably.

         "Knock it off," Sarge barked. "We can't have this. We've got a war to win, and I need both of you focused on that. I can't afford to ship you queers out because you're too horny to keep it in your pants." Donut rolled his eyes and Grif choked on a breath through the nose. They both nodded. "Now, I've got to call Command about our new vehicle. You two get back in there and help Simmons clean up. And if I ever catch you two doing anything ever again, I'll ship your asses out of here without a second warning. Don't make me do that. Got it?"

         "Yes, sir," the two soldiers said in unison as their sergeant stalked away.

         "Thanks for the save, Donut," Grif mumbled once Sarge was out of earshot.

         "I can't believe you!" Donut cried.

         "What?"

         "'What'? Oh, nothing," Donut flared. "Just the small fact that you're a liar!"

         "Calm down," Grif sighed.

         "I thought you didn't swing that way?"

         "I don't. I mean, I didn't think I did –" Grif began with great difficulty. Simmons bit his lip, feeling guilty for not feeling guilty that he was still listening. Their voices quieted; Simmons pushed his cheek further into the door. "I can't explain it, ok?" Grif continued lamely and with a sigh. "I've always been straight. But, I don't know, none of that stuff matters with Simmons."

         "I hope you know what you're doing," Donut said. "If he hurts you, he's gonna deal with me."

         Grif smiled. "Thanks. You don't have to worry, though."

         "And if Sarge ever catches you guys again, I'm not taking the heat for it a second time – you're on your own."

         "Yeah."

         With a smile, Donut was off down the hall. Simmons had the fleeting mentality to rush back to the table and act as though he hadn't heard anything, just to see what information Grif would offer, but he wasn't in the mood for mind games.

         Grif came back in to the chow hall, surprised to see Simmons standing there. "Oh," he said. "Sarge, ah – I guess he walked in on you and me last night, and he thought that –"

         "I know," Simmons interrupted. "I heard."

         "Oh? Then I guess you –"

         "Yeah," Simmons said. "I heard everything."

         "Huh," Grif said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I, ah, didn't realize you were listening."

         "I know." There was a brief pause in which Simmons grinned at Grif. "You love me."

         "What? No way!" Grif shrieked.

         "You have feelings for me."

         "You've lost it!"

         "You think we have something special –"

         "Are you enjoying this?" Grif grumbled.

         "It's so easy," Simmons smirked.

         "Huh. Funny, I could say the same thing about you," Grif said, raising an eyebrow. Simmons looked slighted but amused.

         "Touché!" They exchanged grins. "So, what now?"

         "What do you mean?"

         "What do we do about... this?" Simmons asked, wagging a finger in the air between the two of them.

         "Oh, that," Grif said. "Well, I was thinking something like this."

         Grif put his hands at Simmons's hips and pinned him to the wall, making a move to kiss him, but Simmons turned his head away.

         "Grif, cut it out," he said seriously. "We can't do this."

         "Why not?"

         "You heard Sarge," Simmons said. "If he catches us again, you're a dead man."

         "Hmm," Grif said thoughtfully. "No, what Sarge said was that I can't fuck Donut anymore." He grinned. "He said nothing about you."