Chapter Text
“Dude, I think I have a crush on Church.”
Grif froze in place, one arm still reaching for his bottle of beer as he stared incredulously at Tucker. They had been sitting on top of Blue base for quite a while, their armor discarded to the side, drinking idly and chatting about everything and nothing. It was dark out, with only the distant stars illuminating the canyon. In truth, Tucker was supposed to be keeping watch for the enemy – meaning Grif – but since Grif had brought a cooler of beers for them to share, Tucker figured he was exempt.
At Tucker's admission, Grif had been at a loss for words. “...For real?” he managed after a moment.
“For real,” Tucker said, sighing dramatically as he took a swig from his own bottle. “I catch myself, like, staring at him all the time and shit.”
Grif was silent, taking a drink from his beer and nodding in understanding. After lowering the bottle, he reached out to Tucker, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
“Tucker, I'm going to say this as nicely as I can,” he began. “That is the absolute worst choice you could have made.”
“Fuck off,” said Tucker dismissively, knocking Grif's hand off his shoulder.
“I can't stress this enough,” Grif continued, replacing his hand. “Out of all the dickheads in this canyon, you chose the dickiest. Even fucking Caboose is a better choice than Church.”
“Listen, Caboose might be an idiot,” Tucker countered, “but you can't deny that he is also the hottest man to walk the fucking earth.”
“God, that's so true,” he conceded, releasing his hold on Tucker to get another beer. “And also the dumbest. That shit just isn't fair.”
“Anyway, it wasn't my choice,” Tucker said. “I just catch myself thinking about him, like, all the time. I thought it was because he pissed me off at first, but I don't think fantasizing about fucking someone you hate is something people do.”
“Speak for yourself,” Grif retorted. “That's pretty much my entire life experience.”
Tucker couldn't help but snicker at that. “Yeah, no kidding,” he replied. Grinning smugly, he added, “How's it going with Simmons, by the way?”
“Fuck you, dude,” he shot back, shoving Tucker with just a hint of roughness. “That's a low blow.”
“Oh, come on, you asked for that shit,” Tucker jeered, nudging Grif with his arm. “I've only had a crush on Church for, like, two months. You've been in love with Simmons for, what, ten years?”
“We haven't even been here for ten years!”
“Exactly. That's exactly the point.”
Grif let out a loud, heaving sigh as he flopped back onto the cold concrete roof. “God, this shit is annoying.”
“Tell me about it,” Tucker agreed. “And keep it down. I don't need your fat ass waking up Church's fat ass so he can bitch at me for twenty minutes about how we're at war or whatever.”
“We're grown ass men, and we have crushes on our friends like teenagers,” Grif continued, ignoring Tucker's comment. He gazed up distantly at the stars, and there was a harshness in his voice when he bit out, “It's so fucking stupid."
Tucker paused. There was a hint of seriousness within what Grif had said, a genuine emotion creeping through his self-deprecating schtick. He considered his options for a moment, before lying next to Grif gently, turning to face him as he decided that he had enough of a buzz going to get into his feelings.
“That's what happens when you're stranded on a shitty alien planet with ten other people,” he finally responded. “We don't have much choice.”
“Yeah. I know,” Grif said. He fell silent for a moment, but in a quieter, more sincere voice, he added, “But I think I would've fallen for Simmons anyway. If we weren't stuck here, I mean.”
Tucker couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped him as his gaze fell on Grif's pensive face; it wasn't a mocking laugh, but one of mirth. “Dude, that's so gay.”
“Fuck you, you asshole,” Grif replied, turning to look at Tucker with his face still flushed and an unmistakable grin curling his lips. “You are literally gay. You're in love with a man.”
“First of all, I'm bi, you homophobe,” Tucker shot back, unable to keep the smirk off his face as Grif burst into laughter. “Second, you and Simmons are way better off than me and Church. At least you can have a conversation with him without wanting to kill him two minutes in.”
“That is such a lie,” he said, reaching for his bottle. “I want to kill Simmons even when I'm not talking to him. I want to kill him right now.” Having said this, he tilted the bottle forward to drink from it and missed, funneling cold beer down his shirt.
Tucker began howling at the sight, watching as Grif shot up from his spot on the roof, hurriedly shedding his soiled tank top. “That was fucking karma, dude,” he said between fits of laughter. “That was God punishing you.”
“God can go fuck himself, then!” Grif whined, now clothed in just a pair of sweatpants. “That was my last clean shirt!”
“Do your fucking laundry then, jackass.”
“That's Simmons's job. I don't get paid enough to do laundry.”
“You don't get paid at all.”
“Exactly. That's why I don't do anything.”
“You are such a shithead,” Tucker said jokingly, finishing the last swig of his bottle and setting it down. He grabbed his helmet, pausing as he gazed at Grif briefly, before replacing it on his head.
Grif noticed him staring. “What?”
Tucker hesitated. “You know,” he began, “Simmons is probably in love with you, too.”
He glanced away. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I know.”
“So do something about it, idiot,” Tucker admonished. “Don't be those two losers that dance around each other for twenty years and just complain about it. Fucking tell him.”
“While I know you're right, you're also the same guy that thought the clitoris was where pee came from,” Grif countered. “So you can go fuck.”
“Why you gotta be like that, man?”
“Not my fault it's true.”
Tucker shook his head, rising to his feet. “Thanks for the beer. I'm probably gonna call it a night.”
“Thanks for hanging with me,” Grif said, following suit. “And hey, maybe you should take your own fucking advice, and tell Church you like him.”
“Don't count on it,” Tucker rebuffed. He activated the HUD on his helmet, wanting to check the time, and saw something that took him by surprise. “Oh.”
“What?”
“You'll never believe this. It's Valentine's Day on Earth.”
Grif let out an incredulous laugh. “No fucking way.”
“Deadass, dude. And while we were talking about all that romance-y shit, too.”
“I guess it was in our minds, then,” Grif concluded. “Like a virus.”
“Pretty shitty virus,” Tucker griped. “It didn't even kill us.”
“Ain't that the truth,” Grif said, chuckling. “Well, before I go, one last thing.” He bent down, picking up an empty bottle and holding it out to Tucker with a large, dopey grin on his face. “Happy Valentine's Day, man.”
Tucker picked up his own bottle, clinking it lightly against Grif's in cheers. It was cheesy, but he couldn't help the little smile that came over him. “Happy Valentine's.”