"Listen Simmons, its been awhile since we've gotten drunk together." Grif some what whines, while waving around a bottle of champagne. Simmons pouts slightly. The last time they got drunk was when Tucker decided to turn on the Temple of Procreation.
No one speaks of that.
"Pretty please Simmonsssss!" He knew Grif was making a pouty face under his helmet. "You've already had to much to drink." Simmons points out as he's dragged to Grif's room. Grif sits on his bed, tossing off his helmet, and pulling Simmons down next to him.
"Come onnnnn, Simmonsssss, helmet off!" Simmons's maroon hemet is removed and his blush grows. Grif quickly kisses his cheek.
"Is that why you're getting me drunk? No romance at all?" Simmons asks the already drunk Grif as he pops open the champagne. "Fine fine, don't be a sissy." Grif pours two glasses.
"Roses are red, blah blah blah,"
Grif clinks their glasses.
"Drink." They both take sips and Grif licks the rest off Simmons's lips.
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Roses Are Red | One-Shots
RandomRoses Are Red Pegasus's A Myth Writing This Instead Cause It's March Twenty-Fifth (These will be super short)
