#rvbsecretsanta

If Simmons wanted to stay up all night because he was wrapped up in some nerd project, he could go right on ahead. He was an adult, he could handle an all-nighter or two. But Grif was drawing the line at three.

Grif spun Simmons around, throwing the cyborg over his shoulder before marching off. Simmons whimpered pathetically, arms stretched towards the desk he was being dragged away from.

“Griiiiif,” Simmons pleaded, “the file isn’t saved!”

“Wrong.”

“Grif. I would never lie about something this serious.”

“Also wrong.”

“Griiiif.”

“You would lie. And autosave is a Simmons essential. Bedtime, bitch. Come on."

Grif gently tossed Simmons onto their bed, flopping down into it himself face-first. "You dork," Simmons snickered, "I'm going to actually get ready for bed."

"If that's a lie, and you're actually wandering off to keep writing your nerd shit, I'm locking you in here until you get some fucking sleep." Grif mumbled, turning his face out of the bed and toward Simmons. "I mean it. I'll lock you in the cuddlezone. You won't leave until I say so."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just brushing my teeth, leave me alone."

"Don't forget your sleep meds."

"I won't, I won't. I'll be right back."

Simmons blinked awake to the sight of the sun starting to creep up.

Grif was out cold next to him, arm over his chest. It didn't matter that they'd been together for, what, a year now? His cheeks still went flush at the contact, the gentle pressure of Grif holding onto Simmons in his sleep like if he let go Simmons might run off.

He wouldn't. He learned his lesson there. Never again.

Still, god, they could get away with the closet incident without an issue but Grif treating him like a pillow is what got him flustered?

Whatever. Whatever! It was cute, alright? Knowing he was wanted around even when Grif was sleeping did things to a guy, y'know?

Simmons turned to face Grif, who was face-down in his pillow. Sun wasn't going to wake him up, huh?

Glancing around, Simmons leaned in and pecked Grif on the cheek. Grif sleepily pulled Simmons closer, the latter letting his head rest there in the crook of Grif's neck and closing his eyes again.