Chapter Text
For the first time since they arrived in New Ham, the wide expanse of woods no longer fills Grizz with dread. There’s a levity in his chest that has been absent for too long to speak of. They might actually be able to do this; they might actually be able to survive here.
It’s been a long, vaguely demoralizing week. Their small group of five has circled the entire town, traveling countless miles around its perimeter. There’s an odd bit of delayed gratification at finding the clearing at the end of all that, a literal full circle moment.
When they first stumbled upon it, Grizz hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. Salvation arriving in the form of a wide open field, a flock of turkeys, and a pond full of fish? It’s more than he ever could have hoped for. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that moment - running full speed across the short, wispy grass, slinging off his pack, tripping over his own two feet until he was a sprawling mess on the ground.
He looks at the faces of his fellow explorers, heartened as they are by their dinner of grilled fish, and remembers the way they’d playfully chased those turkeys around mere hours ago. There was something so youthful, so sincere about that victory. A sense of pride bubbles beneath his chest because they did this.
These teenagers, this band of brothers with little to no survival skills, volunteered for what could’ve easily been a suicide mission. Their first night in the woods, Grizz absolutely refused to sleep, convinced every crunching leaf was a new threat coming to take another of his friends away. And even though, sadly, he has more experience now with life and death situations, he’ll still do whatever’s necessary to keep these people safe.
Admittedly, Grizz can’t pretend that initial night was his first plagued by lack of sleep. Even when he was back in New Ham and should’ve been resting, he was up late, combing over books borrowed from the library or drilling Gordie and Kelly for first aid tips that went beyond his own skill set.
So yeah, maybe it’s the weed or their newfound lease on life, but this is the first time Grizz has felt his jaw unclench in days. And he’s proud, he’s so proud of what they’ve accomplished. Can’t wait to tell Allie about their discovery, to prove that her method of managing the town and their tenuous grip on survival is working. Grizz could care less about the accolades but he’s proud that Mickey and Bean and the rest will be lauded as heroes upon their return. They’ve earned it.
He accepts the rather substantial joint from Mickey, barely budging from his spot on the ground, and stares up at the gleaming stars. It’s funny, how their light refracts with a certain optimism when earlier those same stars were harbingers of fate, the messengers that told of their strange alternate universe. Grizz thinks they seem kind, tonight. Like maybe they’re shining down with reassurance, their glittering pinpricks breaking up the otherwise expansive darkness.
It’s only after he’s passed the joint to Gwen and a collective chuckle arises from the group that Grizz realizes he’s commented on the stars aloud. Finds himself joining in and shit, just how exhausted is he? He’s not known for being a one-hit wonder. Maybe he’s high on discovery, on life, on the fruit of their labors being on glorious display.
And then Bean screams into the night, about being explorers on the edge of a great continent, and a rush of gratitude floods through Grizz’s system. Everything has felt so lonely lately. So being able to share this? It feels really fucking cool.
He bolts upright, digging in his bag and ignoring the accompanying head rush. His fingers tremble slightly as they make contact with the small book, his paper companion on this long, hard journey.
Grizz does not take the collective groan arising around the campfire to heart. He knows that the same things that bring him comfort do not do the same for everyone and he’s okay with it. But he also knows that if he can get Jason, of all people, invested in The Odyssey, the power of the written word can work on anyone.
There’s a slight crack that echoes from the overworked spine, a sure sign that someone poured over this paperback more times than Grizz ever will. That’s part of what he loves about literature - that sense of community across decades or even centuries.
The group settles around him, adjusting and giving him as much attention as their stoned asses can offer. Grizz thumbs through the pages gingerly until he finds what he’s looking for.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
The words drip slowly from his mouth, each one imbued with intention. He read the passage two nights ago and still can’t believe how apt it is. At that point, discouraged as they were by lack of discovery, it spoke differently to Grizz. It offered consolation; at least we tried, at least we lived, he’d mused.
Now though? It carries more weight and its significance thunders into the sky along with the crackling embers from the fire.
For once, Grizz isn’t alone in this. In the silence that follows, he can feel Thoreau’s musings call across all one hundred and sixty-five years and latch onto the group.
And then Gwen voices the very question plaguing Grizz’s mind: what if they’re lucky?
Bizarrely enough, he’s inclined to agree. Despite everything New Ham has stolen from them, it’s also presented them with this opportunity. It’s forced them to live deliberately, to choose to fight for survival. That’s true for most people in the town but especially for those on the expedition. Grizz feels here, in these very woods, he’s never felt more alive.
He looks across the poorly formed circle, their faces lit with the flickering glow of the flames, and is struck by the realization that they too would’ve become forgotten footnotes in his story, should his future have gone the way he wanted it to. In the approaching years, they would’ve faded to little more than miniature versions of their senior portraits, posed and gleaming from the pages of his yearbook. He would’ve struggled to remember their names.
Thoreau’s words ring clear, once again. Grizz would hate to discover that he has not lived. Maybe, with the promise of a real future here, he ought to rethink what’s holding him back.
They’ve all been through some serious shit together, right? Maybe coming out wouldn’t be the horror show he’s been imagining. Maybe he needs to live a bit more deliberately. Maybe, in all the time spent wishing Sam would fight for him, Grizz has forgotten that he’s capable of fighting too.
Thing is, historically, Grizz has not been great at taking hints. Sure, he’s smart and has a decently high emotional IQ. Has always been able to pick up on when people are feeling down or left out or otherwise in need of comfort. Is usually there with some sort of quote to help them get by.
But in plenty of other ways, he’s pretty clueless. So he’s a bit confused when his buddy’s girlfriend enters his tent that evening.
There’s an unspoken arrangement, out on the trail, that they all retreat to their own corners once the fire’s out. Honestly, Grizz finds it quite nice. The days are long and exhausting and for the few moments he can manage to keep his eyes open, he’s enjoyed reading. It’s something safe in the wake of the unfamiliar and it makes him think of Sam, always of Sam.
But Gwen is his friend, after all, and while he’s not any colder than the previous nights, the beginnings of winter have begun to settle around New Ham and Gwen’s not exactly the camping type.
He sets down Walden , though with an admitted reluctance, as she approaches. It’s a bit awkward, as the pair have never really spent much one on one time together - barring, of course, that one round of seven minutes in heaven during Erika’s sophomore year house party, long before Gwen and Clark got together. Grizz is experiencing that same level of discomfort and confusion now, as she picks up his arm and places it around her.
He blinks, staring down at her head resting on his chest. It’s not lost on him that Sam was in this exact position nearly two weeks ago. It feels wrong for Gwen to take that place now, like a misplaced puzzle piece. And he’s a bit confused because it does feel intimate, or at least like it’s supposed to be.
Tries to think up a way to broach the subject without offending her. Fails. Asks instead about Clark because honestly the last thing he needs is Clark throwing a hissy fit upon their return when he gets word of Gwen cozying up to Grizz in the dead of night.
He’s surprised, at first, when she says they’re no longer together. And then a low level panic sets in as he tries to figure out his next move now that there’s no easy copout. Choices flit rapidly through his brain, pupils darting back and forth as if he’s tracking them all in real time.
Grizz doesn’t want to be rude. He really doesn’t. He just doesn’t know how else to tell her he’s not feeling whatever she’s feeling without admitting that he’s…
Huh. Even now, when it’s been made pretty freakin’ clear where his attractions lie, he struggles to call it what it is.
Because Grizz knows the power that words hold, that names hold, that labels hold.
“What's in a name?” asked Juliet, hundreds of years ago.
What’s in a label? ponders Grizz tonight.
It’s almost funny how he’d kind of deluded himself into thinking he was more comfortable with the subject than he actually is. Because he’s always kind of known he didn’t feel that way about girls. Didn’t matter much when he was younger, when they were just kids running around in the dirt and pulling stupid pranks. Clubhouses were more fun if no girls were allowed; that was just a given.
But then his friends started liking girls, started kissing them too, and Grizz didn’t get why he just couldn’t feel the same way. Had been forced to sit through that awful Health class video about the hormone telegram arrival - because, yes, even before their current predicament, West Ham seemed to be stuck in some bizarre time warp - and chalked it up to others growing up before him. Maybe he’d be like Peter Pan and never would.
Except that didn’t make much sense because he certainly felt more mature than Jason, always had. Maybe, he remembers hoping desperately during those first few months of high school, he just hadn’t met the right girl yet. So he’d kissed a few - did more, even - but he never felt much of anything.
Eventually it just… got easier to ignore it. To focus on other things, like football and classes and expanding his already extensive classics collection. High school was only a few years, after all. He could play the long game, wait until college to figure out who he was. That’s what it was for, right?
He’d been honest that night, admitting to noticing Sam and staying away. What had Grizz said? Oh, right: he was too caught up in being straight. In letting others believe the default label they’d all assigned to him without bothering to question an alternative.
It’s scary, even now, to consider a reality where people know, where they feel they have the right to comment. It’s one thing to critique decisions he’s made; it’s another entirely for them to pass judgments on who he is.
So yeah, maybe that’s going to be hard, having people look at him differently but so is continuing to live a lie.
Grizz asked Sam, during their argument in his bedroom, how the other boy wanted to live. Maybe he should’ve been asking the same of himself.
They’re going to survive, here, in New Ham. The clearing and newfound wildlife have made that possible. But Grizz wants to do more than just survive.
“I’m gay,” he blurts out. It’s the first time he’s even thought those words, much less said them, and he kind of can’t believe how quickly they leave his mouth. It’s felt like this forbidden thing for so long and now it’s out. He’s out.
Holy shit.
His heartbeat quickens and he swallows as Gwen stills beside him. If he’d had to make a list of top ten New Ham residents he’d come out to first, she wouldn’t be anywhere near it. But then, it’s not like anything has gone to plan lately.
He’s nervous but there’s an indescribable weight that’s been released, vanishing into the woods of their strange new world. It feels so fucking good. To say it. To mean it. To no longer hide.
Gwen doesn’t waste time on silence, thank god. She just kind of stares up at him with shock covering every inch of her expression. And then he’s telling her how he’d planned to come out in college, about future plans that will never come to pass.
Vassar College may have vanished along with the rest of the world but he daydreamed about his life there for so long, he can still that version of his story shimmering in the distance like an oasis.
He’d move into his freshman dorm, allowing West Ham to fade into the distance with each unread message. His already-barren social media presence would simply peter out, allowing him to avoid having Luke, Jason, or Clark look at him differently. Grizz wouldn’t have to wonder if they were distancing themselves because they’d heard news of his sexuality through the grapevine; he was going to take care of that for them.
He didn’t want to deal with the whispers of this small conservative town. Didn’t want wary stares or pointed covering up in the locker room. Didn’t want to see the disappointment in his parents’ eyes every time he sat down at the dinner table.
The promise of that fresh start saw him through any bout of loneliness or yearning, especially as graduation crept closer. Instead, he found himself trapped in a fishbowl that made West Ham look like an aquarium.
In retrospect, Grizz kind of misses the days when keeping his sexuality a secret was his biggest issue.
It’s a bit of a difficult read, trying to figure out Gwen’s reaction. Which, fair. He’s had years to process and it’s still confusing at times.
“So are you, like, gay through and through or mostly gay?” she asks.
Whatever Grizz was expecting out of a response, it wasn’t that. His eyes flit back and forth. He has no idea how to answer that question. Admits as much, baffled. In lieu of another reply, Gwen picks up his other hand and places it directly on her breast.
What is happening?
Grizz finds himself at an absolute loss for words. Part of him is utterly confused and the other part just wants to burst out laughing. Somehow, despite their transportation to a literal different universe, this moment is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him.
As expected, the touch does absolutely nothing for him. And now they’re just awkwardly lying there as Gwen continues to hold his palm against her chest.
“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty much gay,” he admits after a few more seconds of stilted silence. “I’m sorry. I mean, no offense.”
She shakes her head, clearly embarrassed. Admits to it being a stupid idea.
Which, for the record, Grizz is inclined to agree with but it’s not like he’s going to tell this poor girl that. He doesn’t like seeing people upset and he’s aware enough to realize whatever Gwen is going through probably has very little to do with him.
Maybe in a different life, he could’ve liked someone like Gwen. He wonders about that sometimes. If all versions of Grizz are gay or if there’s fluidity throughout the multiverse. Doesn’t really know how to say all that though, without making the situation infinitely more bizarre than it already is.
So instead, he tries to reassure her. He can tell she feels a bit rejected and while he knows that’s not his fault, he can’t help but feel bad anyways.
“So, you’re still warm. And I’m a little bit lonely. Do you mind?” she asks.
This time, Grizz actually pulls her close to him. Now that all the cards are on the table, now that there’s no pretense between them… it’s honestly kind of nice. Gwen might not be the person he’s wishing was in his arms but he finds comfort in the embrace nonetheless. Wonders briefly if he’s a bit touch-starved. If maybe they both are.
Because he gets it. The crushing weight of his loneliness has threatened to drag him under more times than he can count this past week. Something has shifted, irrevocably, since his time with Sam.
After being so open and honest with someone, can he resign himself to a life of surface level conversations? Grizz had the luxury of being fully, one hundred percent himself with another human being - an opportunity he hadn’t been able to grasp before. He’d felt alive, with Sam, only to have it cruelly ripped away. Now that he knows how deep a connection can go, the rest seems shallow. Maybe ignorance truly was bliss.
It’s why he continues opening up to Gwen. Exactly two other people in this or any universe know Grizz’s biggest secret. It bonds her to him, in a weird way.
This silence, the very one he’s interrupting with such confessions, is something to be cherished. Most people would laugh, he thinks, to hear him admit that there’s too much noise in New Ham. The town has effectively shrunk to a fifth of its population. Theoretically, it’s the quietest it’s ever been.
But in practice, it’s a completely different story. They live practically on top of each other, still following the guidance laid out by Cassandra. Despite there being so many empty buildings and houses throughout town, nobody has a place to call their own anymore and he gets it. He gets why that frustrates people, why there are rumblings of dissent and why Allie feels this election is necessary. It’s another thing they’re all sacrificing for the sake of survival.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss a quiet escape.
This clearing feels like that. There’s a stillness here, on the other side of the woods, and Grizz briefly wonders what it would be like if he just… never went back. If he figured out a way to build a little cabin. If he walked away from the politics of privileged teens who’d never had to fight before arriving in this new world, who aren’t familiar with the meaning of sacrifice.
It’s so tempting, reaching out like a siren song and burrowing beneath his sternum. Brief glimpses of an impossible future flash before his eyes: a simple log cabin, afternoons spent fishing in the creek, a blooming garden, curling up on the couch with Sam in front of the fireplace. His heart contracts as a deep-seated longing threatens to pull him under, cursing every deity he doesn’t believe in for letting him fall in love with a boy he can’t have.
And yet… Grizz can’t forget their goodbye kiss and the intensity behind Sam’s gaze. Remembers his promise to return, no matter what.
“We’ll come back again,” promises Gwen. “It’s ours now, right?”
Maybe Gwen is right, in more ways than one. Maybe some things, some places, can be returned to. Maybe, just maybe, the future has a bit more hope than he’d been expecting.
What the fuck just happened?
Grizz sits in his kitchen, surrounded by a silence so very different from the kind he’d come to treasure in the woods. This silence? It’s thick, weighed down by the apparitions of cruel lies disguised as cherished campaign promises.
His hands wrap around the mug of tea, hoping the warmth will do something to stop the tremors coursing through his body. He still can’t believe it - the way they’d crossed the border into town and stepped right into a warzone.
Except, was it even a war if most of the town didn’t realize it was being waged?
The commotion in the square should’ve been the first sign of trouble, standing in direct contrast to the send-off party - full of angry, jeering faces and the wrong people in charge of calming them down.
He’s still having trouble shaking the image from his mind. The very Guard who’d promised to protect Allie were now holding her hostage, their strong arms gripping her and Will with an undeserved fierceness. Harry, in a peacoat more befitting some overseas fashion week than a coup attempt, and Lexie with her faux-sincere monologue, proving once and for all that Ms. Dixon had been right not to cast her in that damn school play.
And leaning against the brick wall with a Mephistophelian smirk: Campbell.
Grizz pieced most of the situation together, even before Luke pulled him aside. Exhausted as he was from the expedition, he’s kind of surprised he didn’t deck his supposed best friend in the face, then and there. What the hell was Luke thinking?
What were any of them thinking? Did they seriously believe this bullshit about Allie and Will trying to rig the election? Were they so desperate for a change in regime that they just accepted Harry and Lexie stepping in to fill the power vacuum?
He wants to say he’s surprised by Jason and Clark but he’s not, not after that final night before the expedition. They’d wanted more power and it seemed as though they’d found it. Grizz wonders if they’ve realized yet what they’re giving up for it.
But Luke? He should know better. He should fucking know better. No way is Luke dumb enough to believe this story about Allie and Will being corrupt. There’s no way he doesn’t see just how wrong this whole situation is. And that makes his betrayal infinitely worse.
Grizz returns his attention to the tea, now depressingly lukewarm, and tries to work out a solution. He’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do here. He’s part of The Guard. That’s been his role since they attempted any sort of order in the town but there’s no way he’s answering to Lexie or Harry. He sure as hell won’t answer to Campbell, not after everything he put Sam through.
Sam. Holy shit, what about Sam? His absence from the gathering was unsurprising, considering Becca is likely still on bedrest. The wound in Grizz’s chest opens up again at the thought of Sam’s burgeoning family but there’s also deep-rooted concern as a buried memory claws its way to the surface.
A monster: that’s what Sam had called Campbell after the arrest. A monster that they were all locked in a room with. That psychopath, the way he’d tormented Sam and god only knows who else for years… how is Sam doing now that his brother is the one pulling the strings?
Fuck any attempt at decency or maintaining order; if Campbell does one more thing to bring forth the same terrified tears that streamed down Sam’s face the night he’d told them who Campbell really was? Grizz will take him down to the bone, no contest.
Grizz’s emotions play Russian roulette again, taking turns deciding which feeling will deal him the final blow. Will it be heartbreak? Jealousy? Maybe it’ll be despair or frustration. The wispy tendrils of pining or the jagged daggers of righteous fury.
Quite frankly, he’s a little sick of this black hole anti-universe that seems intent on denying him any sort of victory. It’s like anything good that happens gets wiped out by something twice as awful before a full 24 hours has ticked by. He wonders, briefly, if that level of despondency is what trapped Harry in his house for a full three months. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To give up.
Let the town implode. Say they’ve all had it coming. Wipe his hands of any responsibility. Run back to the woods, away from everyone and everything.
What does he owe them all, really? Isn’t there something to be said for letting them reap what they’ve sown?
Sighing, Grizz absentmindedly swipes a thumb over the rim of his mug. His thoughts drift back to Allie and the way she’d always held her head high, giving everything to lead these teenagers who never deserved her. If nothing else, he owes it to her. And, he supposes, to himself. He’s not a quitter, never has been, and this would be one hell of a time to start.
Which begs the question: what’s his next move? It’s not like he can just rejoin The Guard as if nothing’s happened. He’s not doing it. He’s not going to be responsible for locking up Allie and Will.
A risky and half-baked plan emerges from the fog of confusion. But first, he needs to know who he can still count on.
He swipes open his phone, still-trembling fingers tapping a completely different contact than the one intended. Sam’s name now shines brightly at the top of the screen, presiding over a once-lively text conversation turned single blue column of unanswered messages.
Maybe the fate of their crumbling democracy can wait another day or so. If Grizz doesn’t see Sam soon, he’s going to be too preoccupied to focus on any town-saving efforts. Pathetic? Perhaps. But novels are rarely written about the sensibly-minded.
If there’s a bright spot to be found in the dark and hellish events from the past day, it’s that the hospital is blissfully empty. Grizz expects that fact to comfort him as he walks through the automatic doors but instead, the chaos and frenetic energy from his last visit still seem to linger in the air. Fluorescent overheads magnify the unused space, leaving it barren, almost.
Kelly stands alone at the desk, flipping through some massive medical tome. Behind her, the curtains are pulled back to expose each vacant bed, stacked atop with perfectly folded clean linens.
He continues on, taking his time, when she looks up at him. A ripple of surprise breaks through her otherwise stoic features.
“Grizz!” she exclaims with a sigh of relief. “You guys made it back! Thank god. How’d it go out there?”
He stares, a bit unsure what to say. Recollections of Kelly and Harry in obnoxious, seemingly domestic bliss come to mind. That may have been months ago but he knows all too well the way that challenging times can shift loyalties, sending people back to past comforts.
It’s so fucked. Does he really have to second guess the allegiance of every one of his friends? How does New Ham continue to find new ways to bleed him dry?
Erring on the side of caution, he tells her of the clearing, keeping other details of the discovery close to his chest. She smiles, grateful, and doesn’t press him for more. Grizz wonders if maybe she’s having the same struggle.
“That’s incredible, truly. If everyone returned safe and sound though, what are you doing here?” She pauses, considering. “Are you here to see the baby?” she asks, pride beaming from her features.
His mouth falls open slightly, too tired to hide any of the shock coursing through his veins. He just came here to look for Sam. He wasn’t expecting…
It’s officially too much, all of it. He’s in no condition to meet a baby - Sam’s baby - and he’s too exhausted and frustrated to pretend to be as magnanimous or congratulatory as he should be.
Grizz manages to close his mouth as Kelly looks on, expectant, before shaking his head. “No, no. I, uh, I’m just making the rounds, now that I’m back. Seeing how everything is. I’m sure they’re both exhausted.”
Oblivious, Kelly nods and confirms that yes, the new parents are both exhausted but are so enamored by their newborn that the crib hasn’t been used once. They just can’t seem to put her down.
The smile Grizz forces onto his face feels more like a grimace, and he purposefully ducks his head and allows his hair to curtain his contrite features.
“Wouldn’t want to bother them, then. Tell them congrats when they wake up, okay?” he manages to ask.
Kelly agrees and returns to her book. He raps a quick knock on the desk in lieu of a goodbye and turns around, hands burrowing into his pockets like they’re trying to hide from the hospital’s habitually heartbreaking revelations.
He nearly makes it to the sliding doors when a clattering erupts behind him. He turns around to find Sam standing in the hallway, mouth-agape and surrounded by an assortment of fallen plastic bottles.
Holy shit. Grizz has missed him.
Somehow, despite the dark circles under his eyes, Sam looks more gut-wrenchingly beautiful than ever. The very lights in the hospital seem to shift, casting a kinder glow on Sam’s mussed hair and freckled cheeks. Grizz wants nothing more than to pull the shorter boy into his arms and never let go but he’s keenly aware of Becca and the baby and Kelly, who’s now popped her head around the corner to see what all the commotion is about.
“You’re here,” breathes Sam, his fingers lazily forming signs as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
Grizz swallows thickly, nodding before allowing the right corner of his mouth to tug up.
And then Sam runs - or, at least he tries to before his foot catches on one of the bottles and he flies forward. On instinct, Grizz reaches out and catches the redhead just before he makes contact with the tile.
It’s cliche and kind of embarrassing and Sam’s elbow is jamming itself into Grizz’s thigh but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is holding Sam for the first time in days. He’s just grateful for this excuse, to feel his body pressed against Sam's once again and the opportunity to stare without restraint. His eyes trace every inch of Sam’s face, as if committing it to memory all over again.
He gulps, swallowing down all of the sentimental longing threatening to burst from his lips, and pushes himself away. Sam, still breathless, smiles slightly as a bashful flush covers his cheeks, staring with increasing astonishment. Grizz wonders if maybe, in the haze of exhaustion, Sam isn’t quite sure whether he’s awake or sleeping.
Neither of them leave the floor before Sam speaks up again. “I lost track of the days and I thought… I figured the expedition was delayed. I was so worried that something.. That you’d…”
Grizz taps his knee, regaining Sam’s attention from where it had begun to drift into the distance. “Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m back and completely fine. Not a scratch on me.”
Sam’s piercing eyes focus on Grizz, scanning over him as if to confirm that yes, Grizz really has returned in one piece. When he’s satisfied with his assessment, Sam nods and a grateful smile graces his face.
Grizz returns it with a small grin of his own and pushes his hand closer only to connect with one of the baby bottles, causing the reality of the situation to come crashing into place. Clearing his throat, he hands the bottle over to Sam.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he croaks, hating the sound of his unsteady voice.
Sam beams, any evidence of exhaustion wiped away by the sheer pride radiating off him. “We named her Eden. Do you want to meet her?”
Grizz can’t help the hurt and confusion that shudders across his face. He’s not trying to make it about him when there’s so much else happening - he’s really not - but the thought of meeting Sam’s child is more than his mangled heart can bear right now. He watches the light dim from behind Sam’s eyes, delayed recognition finally setting in.
Red hair shakes back and forth as Sam blinks, then apologizes, his closed fist making continuous circles against his chest. “Right, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He pauses, features downcast. “I seem to be saying that a lot these days.”
Grizz simply dips his head in acknowledgement, unsure what else to say. Unsure why he came, really. Doesn’t know what he was hoping for.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He was hoping to pull Sam away for a bit, share the exciting news of what they found in the woods. He wanted to bring him there - surely Kelly could keep Becca company for a few hours - and maybe, in the quiet of the clearing, away from burgeoning pregnancies and town coups, they’d have the chance to talk. To really talk and figure out what’s happening between them. If anything can still happen between them.
Instead, Grizz feels like it’s too late. All that hope, all that potential built up during their last goodbye, dashed by the cries currently echoing through the small clinic.
Kelly pops up from the desk behind Sam and signals that she’s going to go check on Becca before disappearing. Sam turns around, confused at the shift in Grizz’s attention, before Grizz taps the boy on the shoulder and explains what he heard.
“I guess you’ve gotta -”
“I should get back to -”
They both cut off as abruptly as they began. The stilted awkward nature of the whole thing - so far removed from the seamless comfort and ease that they’d found in his bedroom just a couple weeks ago - hammers a new crack into Grizz’s heart.
It’s Sam who tries again. “I should get back to Eden but I want to hear about everything. And I want… I want to talk. Please?”
The question lingers between them, weighed down by so much history and longing. Grizz wonders if he should say no. If it’s just plain masochistic, at this point, to sit through yet another conversation that inevitably goes in circles before he leaves with his heart broken. If, maybe, he ought to have a bit more self-respect and walk out with his head held high, never to entangle himself again with Sam and the budding family he hid.
He hates that premise as soon as it enters his head though. The idea of being trapped in this town knowing Sam will forever be out of reach… It will haunt him forever if he gives up without any closure or hell, a single conversation that doesn’t end with a tearful departure.
What a future with Sam would look like, at this point, Grizz has no idea. But there’s a lot that he still needs to get off his chest, things he hasn’t had the chance or mental capacity to express. So, he agrees.
There’s a promise to text and make plans tomorrow, which Sam acknowledges with a grateful smile before gathering up the bottles and retreating towards the back of the hospital. And just like that, Grizz is thrust back into the cold December air with a head full of questions and a perpetually restless heart.
Times of stress have a way of making one completely disregard common, sensible advice in favor of emotional and irrational conclusions. Or at least, that’s Grizz’s current experience as he lifts the lid on the kettle for the fourth time in the span of two minutes.
He bends down, confirming the flame is indeed still on, before leaning against the counter with a frustrated huff. It’s not the water’s fault for taking a perfectly normal amount of time to boil but as far as scapegoats go, it’s the least harmful option he’s got.
Grizz pushes himself away from the counter and wanders the few steps to the entryway. Tries to inconspicuously pull back the curtain, not wanting to be too obvious should Sam be walking up the path.
It’s been nearly a full day since their reunion at the hospital and the time has given Grizz a chance to think more clearly, to collect his wits and his composure. Or so it had seemed an hour ago.
Hell, maybe this was all a mistake. What had he been thinking, really? Seeking out Sam last night?
Grizz should still be pissed.
He is still pissed, to be honest. And hurt. And betrayed. None of that has changed. He’s still mourning the loss of whatever he’d thought was blossoming between him and Sam.
What has changed is that New Ham is once again on fire. Not literally, at least for now, but the fact remains that their situation is more precarious than ever. Grizz should’ve been reveling in the expedition’s success and the potential for their collective survival. Instead? He’s wondering if they’ll make it through the winter before everything they’ve worked so hard to build crumbles before his disbelieving eyes.
Faced with his own mortality yet again, he dares to reconsider the grip he has on his pain and resentment. What if there’s a chance for things to go back to the way they were, he finds himself desperately hoping. They might only have a few months left anyways. Surely it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to spend those months happy.
The kettle’s piercing shriek snaps him out of his pathetic trance. Grizz crosses to the kitchen in long strides, shaking his head and scoffing at his momentary weakness. He better pull himself together before he meets the same fate as Captain Ahab, doomed to be dragged under by his own obsession.
There’s no going back to the way things were. He can’t sweep Sam’s actions under the rug or continue denying the reality of the other boy’s current situation. The damage has been done.
His hand shakes - nearly scalding himself with a miscalculated pour of the spout - as the realization sinks in: Grizz is going to have to talk to Sam. Like, actually talk to him instead of shutting down mid-conversation or demanding answer after answer.
Ignoring the two mugs he’s just filled with water, he scrambles for his phone to cancel. Clearly he hasn’t thought this through. He has no idea how he’s supposed to say -
A sharp rap on the door yanks him back to the present. He wonders, briefly, how long it’s been since someone’s actually knocked on his door and nearly shouts “It’s open!” before remembering who’s on the other side. Steeling his resolve, Grizz retraces his steps to the front door and opens it wide.
Sam smiles from across the threshold, shoulders slightly hunched with apprehension. He opens his mouth then pauses. Shuts it. Chooses instead to sign, nice to see you.
Grizz opts for what he hopes is a reassuring smile before closing his fist with his thumb and pinky sticking out. You too, he signs.
He knows from prior experience that Sam finds comfort in relying solely on ASL in times when he’s really worked up. When he doesn’t quite trust his voice or he’s feeling too emotional or he wants to express himself as authentically as possible.
In an odd way, it soothes Grizz’s frayed nerves to know that the other boy is equally distressed by everything. It’s even more heartening to know that Sam trusts Grizz with this, that he feels safe enough to do away with pretenses.
Sam’s gaze darts back and forth momentarily before he raises his eyebrows. Grizz realizes, belatedly, he’s still standing smack in the middle of the doorway and moves aside, gesturing for Sam to come in.
Closing the door, he drifts into the kitchen, trusting Sam to follow. Grabs the box of green tea from the cupboard. Starts to ramble about how, regrettably, this is pretty much all he has left in his stash and how he wishes he had earl gray - which he knows is Sam’s favorite - or even a nice chamomile but he figures this is better than nothing and surely -
Grizz cuts himself off and cuts his gaze towards Sam, who sports a bemused expression.
“Did you get any of that?” he asks.
“Some,” replies Sam with a smile and more generosity than Grizz thinks he deserves. “And I can forgive a lack of earl gray, just this once.”
After wiping his brow in mock relief, Grizz dips the bags in their respective mugs before bringing them over the coffee table. He places them on coasters with care, despite the fact that his mother will likely never again step foot in this living room to see an errant ring on the cherry oak. There’s something to be said, though, for the comfort of routines, especially in times like these. Like maybe if he keeps acting as if they’ll make it back home, one day they truly will.
There’s a bit of a dance as they go to sit down. Sam ends up in the corner of the couch while Grizz opts for the nearby armchair, situated an appropriate distance away. Grizz folds his arms, hoping by restraining his hands, he’ll stop the tingling surging through them. It’s as if his very blood cells itch to reach out and touch Sam.
The gesture does nothing and comes with the added downside of being unable to use the limited ASL he now knows so he casually tries to unfold his arms and place them on the arm rests instead. Sam’s all-too-observant eyes track each of his motions, causing the anxiety in Grizz’s gut to flare to wildfire-like proportions.
“How’s Eden?” he asks, opting to address the elephant in the room.
Sam’s smile is more reserved, likely remembering his slip-up at the hospital, as he answers. Apparently the baby’s doing great. He keeps it brief but describes how incredible it’s been to finally hold her in his arms and stare into her eyes.
Grizz does nothing to hide the pain behind his gaze, figuring he’ll need his game face for later in the conversation, but tells Sam with full sincerity that he’s glad she’s doing so well. He is, for the record - glad she’s doing well.
It’s kind of crazy, how this innocent child was born into absolute bedlam. She’ll never have any semblance of a normal life. Or rather, her idea of normal will be so drastically different from the rest of theirs.
Sam asks about the expedition and Grizz lights up with a proud smile of his own. Tells the other boy of the clearing, with its river and wild turkeys and plenty of farmable land. Keeps the dream of a cabin to himself, for now.
There’s an undeniable sparkle in Sam’s eye, as he watches Grizz move slowly through the explanation, pausing occasionally to remember signs for certain words.
“I came out to Gwen,” blurts out Grizz, anxiously waiting for the other boy’s reaction.
Sam’s lips form a perfect ‘o’ of surprise and Grizz is struck with a sudden, desperate desire to kiss them. It’s embarrassing, really, the effect that Sam’s presence has on his rationale.
“That’s… wow. How do you feel?”
Grizz relays the story and is he mistaken or do Sam’s nostrils flare with jealousy when he recounts how Gwen kind of came onto him in the tent? Sam’s hands fly of their own accord without speaking or even looking in Grizz’s direction.
What?, signs Grizz, palms shaking back and forth.
Embarrassed, Sam responds, “I knew she always had a thing for you.”
“She’s been with Clark for a year!” counters Grizz.
Sam locks eyes. “I’ve had plenty of experience wanting something I can’t have. I’ve seen her watching you. She always looked the way I felt.”
Grizz scratches the back of his neck, unsure how to respond. He feels guilty, somehow, like he’s done something wrong. Discomfort claws at his skin as he searches for some eloquent segue in the discussion that Sam actually came here for, before he can chicken out.
“You did have me. Before -” he cuts himself off. A derisive scoff falls from his mouth as he shakes his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. So much for putting on a brave face.
Sam knocks Grizz’s knee with his own. “Say it.”
“Before it all turned out to be a lie.” Grizz cringes, wincing at the bitter aftertaste of his own pathetic words.
“It wasn’t,” Sam urges. “What we had was real. I never lied about that.”
“Semantics, really? That’s your defense? Fine, maybe you didn’t lie outright. You just hid it instead, sleeping with me knowing it could never go anywhere.” He locks eyes with Sam, wondering how much pain and anger is reflected in his gaze. “I mean who the hell does that, Sam? And what did I do to deserve it? To deserve you keeping something so important from me?”
“Nothing! You didn’t do anything.” Sam’s quiet insistence is starting to drive Grizz a bit mad. He’s too calm. It’s not like Grizz wants this to turn into a screaming match but some sign that the boy before him cares would be nice. Makes him want to push a bit harder.
“I just still don’t get it. You could’ve… at any point, you could’ve stopped this.”
“It’s not that simple. I couldn’t -”
“Bullshit. You could’ve told me the truth. Prepared me somehow. Instead you let me walk into that hospital and find out from Becca herself. Do you have any idea how that felt? Realizing that I’d finally been honest with someone, let my guard down only to -”
A sob rips forth from his chest, one he didn’t even know he’d been suppressing, and then tears are once again streaming down Grizz’s face.
He continues, even though every word feels like it’s being yanked from beneath his sternum. “You knew how hard that was for me. I gave you everything, told you everything , and you couldn’t be honest with me about the biggest thing in your life. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to make sense of it and it just doesn’t add up. That guy I got to know in the garden, at the library? He didn’t seem capable of doing something this fucked up. Did I have it wrong this whole time? Did you just use me? Were you just lonely? ‘Cause that’s sure as hell what it feels like.”
When Grizz reaches up to roughly brush away his tears, his actions are mirrored almost perfectly by Sam’s. It’s precisely the wrong thing to be thinking at this moment but Grizz is pretty sure Sam’s eyes have never looked more stunning, like gems polished in the barrage of tears.
“I’m so sorry. I know I keep saying it but I don’t know what else to do. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way that it did. I hate myself for making you think -” Sam’s voice breaks and he must be able to feel it because his speech is quieter when he continues. “I wasn’t expecting to find you. Becca and I… like I said, it meant nothing. I promise. One drunken night. And then we got trapped in a world where I was the only one out and I thought I was going to die alone. Without ever finding someone who really saw me, without any hope of a family. So when Becca told me she was pregnant I just -”
He cuts himself off again, shrugging and looking down. Sam tries to compose himself as Grizz looks on, waiting for the other boy’s gaze to meet his own before responding.
“Sam, she’s your best friend. I’m not pissed because you slept with someone months before we got together. I’m pissed because you lied to me about it. You had every opportunity to tell me about the baby and you hid it. I’d popped my head out of the closet for all of five minutes before you reminded me why I’d stayed in for so long. Finding out you were starting a family with Becca just made me feel like… like I meant nothing. Just your dirty little secret or some goddamn old school cliche. And then you come and kiss me goodbye before the expedition like… I don’t know! Like you still think there’s some world where this could all work.”
However Grizz thought this talk was going to go, it wasn’t this. He’s surprised at himself, at the words that just keep pouring from his mouth. He should probably be a bit embarrassed about how… open he’s being. It’s pretty fucking vulnerable.
But, if he really thinks about it, he’s already lived through the worst. It’s hard to imagine his heart getting obliterated more than it already has. He could put up more walls, seal said heart behind towers that even the most daring knight would have trouble climbing. It would be safe, what’s left of it anyways.
The cracks might fill in eventually. Scar tissue covering the once-weeping wounds, permanently marring and hardening the surface of his formerly tender heart. It would hurt less as time passed and maybe that would be bearable.
But it would never get better.
If he doesn’t do this, if he doesn’t get everything out into the open, these feelings will fester. Grizz doesn’t want to be that person; the one who doesn’t know how to grow or move on. If there’s a chance for closure or, dare he wish, something more? It’s worth laying bare every inch of stored up insecurity and heartbreak.
“You don’t get it. How hard it’s been for me,” Sam says, speaking up with a pained smile on his lips. “You act like it’s so simple, cut and dry. Tell the truth or some cruel lie. I’ve been on the outside my whole life. People aren’t exactly lining up to make friends with the deaf gay kid. The biggest things about me, the ones separating me from literally everyone else, have always been right there, out in the open for everyone to know.”
Grizz looks down, a familiar shame washing over him. It’s been so easy to assume he had the moral high ground here, that he was the innocent bystander. But all this time wallowing in his own pain and he never considered what Sam’s life was like before their collective world was turned upside down. Would it have made a difference? If Grizz had been brave enough to live his truth sooner, would things be different?
Intuitive as ever, Sam fixes Grizz with a knowing look. “Hey, no, I’m not - You’ll come out in your own time. This isn’t a guilt thing. But it’s different, being out. I’d always noticed you and then you were talking to me and inviting me places and I was trying so hard not to get my hopes up. Not to lose my cool or fall even harder for the popular straight jock.”
It’s funny, the way a memory can shift in the eye of its beholder. Grizz had always been convinced Sam held the upper hand, that he was confident and watching Grizz flounder with wry amusement.
The more he listens, the harder it is to be angry at Sam. Not that he likes being angry - hates it, actually, the way it reminds him of his father - but anger has certain defensive properties, keeping his empathy from peering around the shield. With it gone, he can see Sam’s pain too. And fuck, he still cares for this boy so much.
His chest cavity feels like it’s collapsing - seeing Sam this upset. All he wants is to pull the other boy close and tell him everything will be okay. But that’s the last thing Grizz can promise and they’re in such un-fucking-chartered territory here. He doesn’t know what the rules are.
“Becca hadn’t really told anyone about her pregnancy by the time you and I started talking. I’m not in the habit of telling other people’s secrets. And then everything happened so quickly, between us. I wasn’t even sure you were actually interested until you asked me to kiss you and that seemed like the worst possible moment to tell you. It was selfish to hide it. I regret it. I fucked everything up but can you understand why I did it? Being seen, being wanted, by someone as incredible as you? I’d given up on that happening here. I was nervous and excited and just… desperate to hold onto it.”
Sam winces when he’s finished. It’s the most Grizz has ever heard him talk, knows he must be feeling self-conscious about his voice. Sam’s expressed before how exhausting long conversations can be, between trying so hard to speak clearly and struggling to lip read. Yet again, Grizz wishes he’d picked up ASL sooner.
Silence fills the room as Grizz mulls over it all. Lifts his fist to his forehead, flicking his index finger up to sign, I get it.
You do? signs Sam with a hesitantly hopefully expression.
“Yeah. Doesn’t change what happened but I guess I can understand why you weren’t in a rush to bring it up. Still hurt like shit though.”
“I know I have no right to ask this but I need you to trust me. There’s… there’s more going on here than you realize.”
Grizz quirks a disbelieving eyebrow and opens his mouth to retort when Sam holds up his hand, pleading for Grizz to let him continue.
“It’s not fair. None of this has been fair to you and I’m so sorry. I need you to understand when I said what happened between us was real, I meant it. I want to be with you, that’s never changed.”
The air leaves Grizz’s lungs in stuttered waves. His body, of its own accord, slumps back into the armchair. “What am I supposed to do with that, Sam?”
In juxtaposition to Grizz’s deflation, Sam seems to harden in his resolve as he replies, “I don’t know. There’s a three day old baby waiting for me back at the house and my best friend is exhausted and I'm scared out of my mind. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I wasn’t expecting Eden but I love her. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you, but I…”
“But you what?” asks Grizz, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart’s threatening to pump right out of his chest.
Sam cuts a look his way and fires off a few quick signs before scrubbing his hand down his face. A few agonizing moments later, he turns his gaze back towards Grizz.
“But you what?” repeats Grizz, making sure his signing is clear and concise.
“It’s too soon,” comes the whispered reply.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the days spent around little civilization or socialization. But Grizz has no idea what the fuck Sam is on about. He blinks at the redhead sitting next to him, a single arched brow serving as another question.
Sam sighs, dropping his eyes to his hands lying in his lap. It paints a sad, funhouse mirror image of the way Grizz must’ve looked before asking Sam to kiss him.
“It’s too soon to say it. And it’s not like you’d want to hear it, not after I messed everything up.”
When Sam stays resolutely focused on his hands, particularly an errant hangnail, Grizz nudges his knee in an attempt to gain his attention.
“Too soon to say what?”
The intensity behind Sam’s stare ratchets up to 11, catching Grizz so off guard that he can’t help the sharp intake of breath.
Oh.
Grizz swallows before biting his lip, watches as Sam’s eyes track the movement.
And just what is he supposed to do with that, really? Sam’s probably right. It is too soon. Everything has been messed up. And yet…
Isn’t there a flickering flame in the furthest recess of his heart, one that’s refused to be sniffed out despite the deluge of pain and tears? Isn’t this what the quiet voice within Grizz has wished for, for weeks? Isn’t there a huge part of Grizz that wants to confess he feels the same?
Love. The ever elusive hope, synonymous with Gatsby’s green light and Heathcliff’s desire to be haunted. The very thing Grizz had convinced himself was out of reach. A dream Grizz had resigned would never come to pass, the night they realized how well and truly trapped they were.
And though it defies all logic, something in Sam’s expression seems to echo the disbelieving hope currently swelling in Grizz’s chest.
“Becca?” asks Grizz quietly.
“We’re not together. I promise.”
“But does she know? About us?”
Sam dips his head, shaking it slightly. Grizz waves his hand in Sam’s field of vision, gaining his attention again.
“I can’t do this sneaking around bullshit, not with everything else going on. If this is going to go anywhere, she has to know,” insists Grizz, tapping his fingers to his forehead with more vigor than is likely necessary.
“Is it?” breathes Sam, a painfully hopeful expression scattered across his features. “Going anywhere?”
Grizz swallows. His heart thumps and his palms sweat with an intensity that he’d always assumed was just a literary cliche.
“It might take me a bit. You broke my heart, Sam.”
The redhead scrunches his nose, freshly fallen tears coating his face. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.” For the first time since his arrival, he reaches out to touch Grizz, signing his remaining words one-handed. “I’m so sorry. I don't know how else to say it but I need you to know how true that is.”
“You’re not the only one who’s said things he regrets,” replies Grizz, flashing back to that afternoon in his bedroom.
Sam nods, remembering. He moves the hand currently resting on Grizz’s knee, squeezing it slightly. The touch feels a bit like forgiveness and reassurance, promises of better times ahead.
“I don’t have a lot of experience, here,” Grizz admits. “Even if we do try again, I might fuck it up.”
“Oh come on. I’ve seen you on plenty of dates,” deflects Sam. A shy smirk finds its way onto his tear-stained cheeks.
Grizz gets what he’s trying to do and he’s grateful. It’s a side of Sam he hasn’t seen in weeks, one he’s missed desperately. But as much as he wants to return to their carefree banter of old, there’s a point he’s trying to make first.
“None of them mattered though,” he says, pressing his lips together and scrunching his nose to the side. Reaches slowly for Sam’s hand, letting the familiar electricity charge through his arm.
The redhead gulps, his teasing charm laid aside for the time being. “So where… where does this leave us?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know if I can dive right back into something,” Grizz answers, shoulders hunching. “But I think I’m willing to try. Like, maybe we just try getting to know each other again and see where that gets us.”
Slightly forlorn, Sam asks, “So you want a clean slate? You want to start over?”
“Well, not completely. We do have a pretty good first kiss story, after all.”
“Having trouble remembering. I don’t really know -”
With uncharacteristic boldness, Grizz makes the first move. The kiss is soft, almost chaste in comparison to the others forged in various states of emotional distress. But there’s a comfort in it too, something that soothes Grizz’s weary soul, like a balm placed over one of the many cracks in his heart.
Shining blue eyes await Grizz when he pulls away. His heart hammers through his ribcage and every cell in his body feels like it’s been set ablaze. He knows, he knows , he should tread carefully. Proceed with caution. Protect his miraculously still-beating heart. And he will, in the days and weeks to come.
For now, there’s beauty in heartbreak, he’s realizing. Not that he wants to romanticize the pain or paint himself an unlikely martyr. This will go down as a defining chapter in Grizz’s life, one that he’ll never forget. But it’s taught him to see people for who they are, not the idyllic versions he’s want to create in his head. A thing doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. It doesn’t have to be flawless to be worthy.
As Voltaire said: “The perfect is the enemy of the good.” Grizz thinks it’s the first time he’s ever understood the true weight of that quote; might make it his new mantra moving forward.
The truth is, if he and Sam can overcome this, they’ll probably make it out the other side stronger than ever. He’s not ready to admit it, but he might love Sam. At the very least, he’s on some sort of precipice.
And yeah, that’s exactly the type of idealistic thinking he just said he’d put to bed but it’s true. He’s had a lot of time to himself these days, inner monologue running rampant as he tried to sort through his hopelessly tangled feelings. If there’s something to be grateful for in all of this, it’s that he doesn’t need an answer yet. They have time.
Kiss me, signs Grizz. And Sam happily obliges.
“Gwizzy!!!,” calls Eden as her tiny feet patter across the wooden floor. “Momma says your friends is gonna be here in five minutes.” She holds a dirt-stained hand up for his approval, proudly displaying all five fingers.
Grizz charges out of the kitchen to meet her and the toddler squeals as he swings her up into the air. “Oh yeah?”
She nods vigorously, brunette curls springing forth from her pigtails. Grizz can barely keep his grip on her as she squirms, eager to be set back down.
“Did the little rascal deliver her message?” asks Becca, leaning against the door while she attempts to wrestle her hair into a ponytail, fighting a losing battle against the late summer heat. When the frizz and the wispy pieces that refuse to smooth down prove too much, she settles for piling it into a messy bun. “Helena and Luke are pulling up any minute but Gwen said the rest are running late. Something about being unable to pull Kelly and Gordie away from some new discovery at the clinic.”
“Momma I told him,” pouts Eden as she clings to Grizz’s leg.
Grizz has to suppress a laugh and school his features. Eden may not be Sam’s by blood but she seems to have inherited his laser-focused stare. These days, it seems like they can’t get any reaction past her. “She did, it’s true. Ran here and everything.”
Eden beams and finally untangles herself from him. “Can we go back outside pleeeeeease?”
Becca turns to Grizz, exasperated.
“If you let her run around now, she’ll knock out by 8 and you know Clark’s bringing that new batch of moonshine,” whispers Grizz as he passes by with a knowing look.
Before either of them can stop her, Eden is dashing back out the door with a giggle. Becca throws her hands up in the air and chases after her, calling over her shoulder, “Remind Sam those potatoes need at least fifteen more minutes. He always tries to pull them early.”
Chuckling to himself, Grizz wanders into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Sam, who startles at the touch.
Narrowing his eyes with mock irritation, Sam sets down the knife. “Deaf guy. Sharp cutlery. It’s been years, what’s not clicking?”
Chagrined, Grizz signs sorry before snatching a slice of tomato off the cutting board as Sam slaps his hand away.
“What’s our girl up to?”
“Oh you know, running around, terrorizing Becs.”
Sam grins, rolling his eyes. “So the usual?”
“Pretty much. Guess that’s what happens when someone refuses to stick to any sort of bedtime routine,” says Grizz with a pointed look.
Offering nothing in defense except a shrug and knowing smirk, Sam turns his attention back to the cutting board, leaving Grizz to check on the turkey roasting in the oven, fingers brushing over the dent from Jason hoisting it into the Pressman’s old pick up truck with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Much of the appliances and furniture throughout the cabin are in similar states of disarray. Plucked from various unused houses, their new home is filled with mismatched items and handmade decor. That Voltaire quote, now more fitting than ever, is proudly displayed over the mantle in a slightly wonky cross stitch gifted to them by Gwen.
“What?” she’d said when he questioned her new hobby. “I’m running out of things to do around here. We all have hidden depths, Gareth.”
And wasn’t that the damn truth. Turns out, all of his friends were capable of more than he’d ever given them credit for. Like how Luke had nearly cried when Grizz told him about Sam, whiskey drunk and beaming with pride. Or Clark’s misguided and vaguely intrusive, if not surprisingly heartfelt, interrogation about what made Sam so special. Or how Jason had simply shrugged and smirked, going off about how there was finally a bit less competition.
The Guard, reunited and finally behind the same cause once again. Grizz didn’t take for granted the fact that they could all congregate here with ease, on the farm he’d helped to raise from nothing. It had taken months of rocky uncertainty, in both his relationship and town politics. Turns out, time was the only thing that could heal the fractured friendships and overwhelming sense of distrust that had been seeded throughout New Ham.
Despite the circumstances that led him here, Grizz leads a simple life. And he’s grateful, so grateful for this non-traditional family that he’s been invited into. Maybe black hole anti-universes have their upsides after all.
Sam looks up from chopping the carrots, a fond smile on his face. “You good? You have everything you need?”
Something about his tone reminds Grizz of that fateful Thanksgiving years ago, of the quote from Cicero. He remembers being so shy and nervous, feeling like he gave too much away by saying he had almost everything he needed.
Grizz looks past Sam and out the window, at the garden Eden’s running through, Becca clamoring after her. Back at the living room bookcase, sloping slightly but constructed by his own two hands and filled with books from his own collection and beyond, the beginnings of a small library. At the man before him, slightly taller, cheeks narrower with the loss of adolescence.
This cabin and the way it feels more like home than his parents house ever did. Their town that they’d fought for and won. This life - weird and wonderful and difficult and more fulfilling than anything he’d ever thought possible.
Grizz crosses the short distance to the counter and places a kiss on Sam’s temple before pulling back to look into his eyes. “Yeah, I think I finally do.”