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Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of Chronology
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Published:
2021-09-02
Completed:
2021-09-03
Words:
1,612
Chapters:
2/2
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21
Kudos:
85
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722

anxiety.exe

Summary:

Simmons tries to "fix" his anxiety by messing with his cybernetics, but after years of planning it goes wrong immediately. Grif is aware of his feelings for Simmons, but he's gonna keep on shoving that shit down. Grif helps Simmons calm down.

Initially posted September 2021 on tumblr blog clocks-are-round.

Notes:

I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was thinking of this fic as I was writing. Definitely took inspiration from it.

Chapter 1: Feel-Good Ending

Summary:

The initial complete fic. Chapter two is an optional epilogue.

Chapter Text

Simmons hated himself. Not all of himself, but enough of him to regularly feel insecure. It’s why he sought approval.

Knowing this, it was no wonder he started trying things with Grif. He knew it was a lie, it wasn’t a romance, but being wanted by someone— or at least tolerated— it was a high he couldn’t resist after drinking a few.

Knowing this about himself— understanding why he was how he was— didn’t bring much comfort. With a computer, understanding how it functioned was beneficial to him; he could rewire, rewrite code. He couldn’t rewire his insecurities. He couldn’t rewrite his father disowning him or his mother’s words,

“I don’t know why you’re making things so difficult. I thought I raised a smart daughter. I’m sorry for failing you.” His breath caught. Not a shred of sympathy was in those sharp words. Thinking about it stole his breath and froze his limbs. No control, just like back home. The only bright side to the unpleasant experience was that it usually only lasted several seconds. The longest several seconds that existed.

He wished he could turn his brain off. It was an echo chamber and sleep wasn’t coming. Maybe a shower would help. Make his hands stop shaking.

——

Grif heard Simmons get up, and some part of him imagined him coming over to his bed. He’d sit and they could talk until they fell asleep together. But he’d left the room. He scolded himself for such a stupid daydream.

Grif knew it didn’t mean anything. Drunken kisses, nights together; they were the products of boredom and loneliness. Still, he caught himself thinking things he shouldn’t. Wanting to hold hands. His gaze lingering on Simmons. Y’know. Gay shit.

Once Donut had walked in on them. His bubble bath should’ve taken him longer, but there he was, staring, letting his towel drop in surprise. He loudly awww’d then backpedaled, as if he hadn’t started asking if he could join in, announcing that he’d forgotten to do something— feigning ignorance to what he had just seen, and then quickly leaving the room with a smile. They hadn’t risked doing it in the sleeping quarters since.

Speaking of Donut, he was out cold. His arm up behind him and one knee bent like he was posing. Of fucking course. Even asleep Donut was extra as fuck.

Part of him loathed Donut for being so flamboyant and “gay”. Acting like the stereotype from centuries ago that had recently made such a comeback in media that every gay character had the same damn femme, quirky personality.

Another part of him envied Donut. He was becoming more and more open and unapologetic of those traits. How was it so easy for him to just be himself? To leave himself so open to ridicule? So vulnerable?

Grif could never.

——

Simmons paced the bathroom, so small he was practically spinning in place. He quickly dressed and rushed to his tools.

The shower would have calmed him down if he hadn’t had an epiphany. He couldn’t rewire his insecurities? Oh couldn’t he?

He was a cyborg now for fuck’s sake. He was part computer. Something he could modify to be less… buggy.

He hastily unscrewed a metal plate on his arm. He needed to study the layout before altering anything. Maybe it was a crackpot idea, but the wiring did connect to his brain, therefore, hypothetically, he could alter his own programming. At the very least, minimize anxiety.

======

Grif plodded through the base. He’d fallen asleep outside and for once no one bothered to wake him up when night came. Not that there was any danger being out there. There was only one blue, and it was Caboose for fuck’s sake. With Donut gone and Sarge asleep, the base was eerily quiet. Lately Simmons had been staying up tinkering with nerd computer stuff, so he might still be up. The light was on in their room, so yeah probably.

What the fuck?

Simmons was sitting on the floor, arms clutching his legs.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Simmons didn’t respond. That would be a really weird position to fall asleep in, but considering he’d been staying up lately working on his mysterious “project” (Grif had his fingers crossed it was getting them internet so he could finally watch some porn again) he wasn’t ruling it out. He got closer and saw Simmons’ robot arm was opened up, wires exposed, one wire led down to a small computer-y box on the floor.

Simmons was crying. He’d say sobbing going by the steady stream, but it was silent. His limbs were stone still like he was paralyzed. His breathing was erratic.

This was fucking freaky.

Normally he’d just leave the room and make fun of him for it later, but this looked pretty bad. He wasn’t even saying anything.

Well, the box was new. Grif reached down and pulled the wire from the box.

Simmons spasmed, gagging. His body started shivering. Well at least he wasn’t frozen anymore.

“What’s going on? Why did I walk in on some fucking horror scene?”

Simmons’ mouth flapped a few times before words, stammered and breathless, clumsily poured out, “I thought- I could- reduce- my anxiety-since my cyborg parts- connect to- my brain, but it- it backfired.”

“You were messing with your brain? What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry sorry…” Simmons whimpered.

“Why would you do that?” Grif didn’t care much about the why, he just wanted Simmons to keep talking. Get them both further from that freaky goosebumps moment.

“Computers are the one thing I’m good at. But I couldn’t even get this right. I fucked it up.” He mumbled, “Fucking failure.”

“You’re not a computer, you’re a fucking person.” How could such a smart person be so stupid?

Simmons shook his head. “It could work. I just need to figure out the technology.”

“Promise me you won’t mess with this again.” He wasn’t doing this for Simmons. It was for his own comfort. He was selfish and detached. He didn’t look out for people, he let them down. That’s who he was. Like how Simmons was a know-it-all kissass with daddy issues.

“No, I need to fix— I’m broken code—“

“Promise me!” Grif hadn’t meant to raise his voice but seeing Simmons like this freaked him out.

“Ok.” Simmons’ breathing was still ragged, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. His hand was trembling.

Hesitantly, Grif wrapped his hand— his left, Simmons’ hand— around, well, Simmons’ hand. Light skin on light skin as if Simmons was holding his own hand. He was tempted to slap him with his other hand, the classic bit in movies that snaps people back to their senses. But he felt like if he did that to Simmons right now, he wouldn’t get the usual angry retort. He’d just get cut trying to pick up the billion shards of glass.

Simmons was staring at their hands. He opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say didn’t come.

“Yeah, guess I shoulda asked.” He slid his hand off of his. Simmons’ fingers reached out and grabbed it again. He leaned forward, and Grif felt the metal hand on his back as Simmons gave him an awkward hug.

He was so close. Not that they hadn’t been close before, but somehow this felt more intimate. It sounded ridiculous as he was thinking it— they’d kissed, they’d had sex— but this felt special. It made him feel warm, but also terrified.

“I think I’m gonna sleep,” Simmons mumbled.

And he did. In less than a minute, his even breathing indicated Grif now had a sleeping nerd on his shoulder. He was impressed at how quickly he dozed off. Must’ve been a hell of an anxiety attack.

Grif scooped him up. If his bed wasn’t two feet away, he would’ve left him on the floor. Thankfully, despite the metal appendage, Simmons wasn’t too heavy. He was tall but all lank. He laid him on his bed.

“Good night, nerd.” His hand paused over him. He gently ruffled his hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not so bad.”

Chapter 2: Epilogue: For Those Who Want to Feel Worse

Summary:

Do not read if you want happy vibes. You won't get them.

Simmons and Grif briefly discuss the events of the previous night.

Chapter Text

Grif was relieved to see Simmons throw his torture box in the garbage.

Simmons was less thrilled, “It’s such a waste of parts but I can’t look at it without thinking about what it felt like.”

“What did it feel like?”

“It was… too much. Way too much. I didn’t even know you were there until you asked what was happening. If you hadn’t unplugged it—“ Simmons swallowed. Well that was ominous as fuck.

“Are you gonna finish your sentence, or…?”

Simmons hesitated, “I think I was caught in an infinite loop.”

“So you would’ve been stuck in your anxiety attack forever?” That was dark.

“Well, until my bpm got too high, do you think Sarge wants us to patrol? He probably wants us to patrol, right?”

Grif felt one of those pits in his stomach. The non-hunger kind. “And you still wanted to try again after that almost happened?”

“I— I mean I’m not going to now. I don’t remember all of last night, but I remember you made me promise not to. And I’m not— It didn’t happen because you were there, so let’s move on!”

Grif tried to laugh it off, “Well you owe me big time then. I saved your life.”

“Yeah. I’m real grateful, numbnuts.” He had said that way too dry and offhandedly. Grif didn’t like that.

Whatever. Simmons’ teen angst phase coming late was none of his business. He had more important things he should be worrying about. Like whether there was any pizza left in the fridge.

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