RvB Oneshots(All Reds, Blues, 10 Freelancers, 2 Mercs)

dirt(simmons)

Requester: N/A
Prompt: #26, "You have something in your hair... Um-- do you want me to get it out?"
Gender: F
Word count: 671

"Come on, Simmons, you can do better than that!" Sarge called. You were helping the Reds get in better fighting shape, prepping the sim troopers for the fight against Locus and Felix. "How the hell are you just gonna let a girl defeat you?" Simmons glanced away, and you took your shot and tackled him to the ground. He was already hesitating because of his inability to function normally around women, but he said it affected him less with you, so you volunteered to help.

When he hit the ground, a soft "umpf!" escaped him, and he quickly shoved you off of himself, pushing you into the grass. The strength he showed on the ground was far superior to what he was exhibiting while standing. Probably because all his metal parts added to his body weight, you reasoned to yourself.

"Yeah! Get 'er, Simmons!" Sarge cheers. It seems to boost his confidence just enough for him to maneuver you into a lock, holding you firmly to the ground. You laugh, panting softly.

"You're getting better, Simmons. I'm proud of you," you compliment, catching your breath. You sit there for a moment. "Uh... You can get off me, now."

"Oh! Sorry!" He releases you, getting up quickly and holding up his hands as he apologises profusely, his face turning a bright red. You get up, shaking your head to get the leaves and grass out of your hair.

"It's fine, Simmons," you assure him. "Grif! Get your ass over here, you're next."

"Awh fuck. I was hoping you'd forget."

You were sweaty and breathless and covered in dirt by the time you finished sparring with Donut. Grif was the worst; his weight made it extremely crucial to stay on your feet, but he knew that getting you on the ground gave him the advantage. The amount of times he crushed you under all his weight is... An unfavourable number.

You finally call it a day, looking at the men before you. A sense of pride swells in your chest, and you can't help but compliment them all again. However...

"Simmons, don't let yourself get distracted. Sarge, don't distract a soldier while he's on the field. Grif... I know I said your weight will help you in hand-to-hand combat, but what if someone has a knife when you tackle them? Try to think of something more... Tactical. Donut, you're really fucking strong in your arms, but you gotta work with your legs, too. It's just as crucial to have a good, strong, supporting stance as it is to be able to throw a punch." You smile at them. "Dismissed."

The men start to leave, and you go to turn around and walk the other direction, but you notice that Simmons hasn't moved, and he keeps switching between looking at your face and looking at the ground. His awkwardness is making you uncomfortable.

"Do you need something, Simmons?" You finally ask, tired of waiting. He was cute, but he desperately needed to get over his fear of women. He wrings his hands together, and finally holds your gaze.

"You, uh... You have something in your hair... It... Looks like a leaf or some grass or something," he says, pointing to the top of your head. You start patting around to try to find it, but come up empty-handed. "Um-- do you want me to get it out?" He takes a couple of steps forward.

You lower your head slightly, even though it's not necessary since he's slightly taller than you, and a few moments later you feel his fingers gently brush over your hair. You wince as he takes a strand or two with him, caught in his glove.

You look up at him, noticing just how close he is. He seems to notice it, too, stuttering and taking multiple steps backward. You roll your eyes, smiling a little.

"Thanks, Simmons. Go catch up with the rest of the guys. I'll be around." You wave, and the two of you go your separate ways.