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Life on Iris was probably one of the best experiences any of the sim troopers had been through, especially if you looked only at their military career. The Captains were all very ready to live as civilians again, as opposed to Sarge, Washington, and Carolina who were all having trouble adjusting to the mundane life.
Simmons especially felt that life on Iris was everything he had ever wanted it to be, well almost everything he wanted it to be. It was great that they no longer had to pretend to fight the blues or go through any of the military nonsense that they lived off of for years, but Simmons didn’t love that he no longer had a real place in the group anymore. Sarge no longer needed someone to kiss his ass and there weren’t any nerd things, as Grif called it, to take care of, and Simmons was feeling a little without purpose.
As far as Grif was concerned he was also one of the things that had changed on Iris. Their duo, Grif and Simmons, was no longer a constant. Grif had spent a lot of time with the blues and even more time by himself, usually napping, and Simmons had no reason to go and get him. Just one more thing that wasn’t perfect on Iris.
That was why when they had the chance to get off of the planet, moon, whatever, Simmons hadn’t hesitated, almost as ready as Sarge to get back to the way things used to be. Grif had to, of course, ruin that chance, just like he ruined everything, by saying he quit them. Saying he quit Simmons.
Anytime he thought of that moment he felt something in his chest splinter a bit, even though Grif was back and everything was normal again. Simmons still felt like he had lost something back on Iris and he was never going to get it back again. Grif had proven he really was Simmons’s friend, saved his life, and risked his own for all of them, but Simmons still worried they could never have what the two of them had before again.
Grif clearly didn’t feel the same, most of his days he spent stuck to Simmons in a way they hadn’t really been before. The orange soldier clung to the maroon one as though he was sure that Simmons was going to leave him again. Even going so far as to reach out and grab Simmons if he made a move to leave without saying anything, or sometimes just touching Simmons to be sure he was still there. The extended contact was getting to Simmons, making him think things he never wanted in his head because just the thought of them was dangerous.
All of the Reds and Blues were staying on Chorus, moving in to the city easier than they expected. Kimball was happy to have them back and Tucker refused to leave the planet until Washington was showing marked improvement. So, they got apartments, all in the same building, split between two floors; the floors were still divided by red and blue even though there was no real difference between them anymore.
This meant that Simmons was once again rooming across from Grif and life was easier than they expected. He and Grif were best friends and there was nothing left to feel weird about.
At least that was what Simmons kept telling himself.
“Yo, Simmons,” Grif called, hand waving in front of the maroon soldier's face. “You even listening to me in there?”
“Huh?” Simmons said, “of course I am.”
Grif huffed a disbelieving laugh, “Oh yeah? What’d I say then?”
Simmon bristled, “probably something stupid how hohos are the best snack cake or whatever.”
“That sounds to me like you weren’t listening, but hohos are the best snack cake so you’ve got me there.”
Simmons rolled his eyes, “then I have no reason to believe what you were saying was of any more consequence than that.”
The two of them were sitting out on the roof of their apartment building, finding it was the best place to get away from everyone else and it didn’t hurt that it reminded the two of them about their Blood Gulch days. It was nice to feel the air and sun on their faces and bare arms as they had finally gotten to really change out of their armor and wear civilian clothes. And Simmons had even taken up one of their tablets to give his hands something to do while they talked.
“Well if you weren’t too busy being a nerd you would have heard me saying that we should get the band back together. You know me, Tucker and Caboose. Obviously, we won’t be able to hide it from Carolina too long, but we may be able to play a little something before she finds us.”
Simmons was surprised at the painful squeeze that that caused in his stomach, but tried to talk past it, “Why would you want to do that? You guys never even got around to playing on Iris, you couldn’t even pick a name!”
“Well yeah, but it was still something to do,” Grif said, “and hopefully we still have time here on Chorus to just do stuff. No more wars or fighting, just goofing off and napping whenever we want.”
“It’s your funeral when Carolina finds out you got the band back together without her,” Simmons reminded him.
Grif shrugged, “that’s a future Grif problem.”
“Yeah, most things are,” Simmons said with a snort.
“You know me well Simmons,” Grif said. He reclined himself until his head was bumping against Simmons’s thigh, “c’mon, budge up,” Grif said butting his head into Simmons’s hand.
Simmons started to move over, but couldn’t as Grif’s head came down on his thigh stopping his movement. Blinking down at Grif’s head in what was pretty much Simmons’s lap, Simmons couldn’t think of anything to say to that, struck dumb by his lap full of dark brown wavy hair. Grif had been growing it out for a long time now and always wore it in a messy bun at the back of his head. Simmons felt a crazy urge to reach out and touch it but stopped himself before he made it weird.
So, this was something they did now. That was cool. That was fine. Totally normal and great. And Simmons would absolutely start to believe that once his heart decided to stop trying to beat itself out of his chest.
Unfortunately for Simmons that never seemed to happen.
If his heart kept acting up like it had been doing lately Simmons was worried he would have to go to Dr. Grey for some kind of medical evaluation.
Currently, his heart was doing somersaults in his chest and he wasn’t doing anything to warrant such a reaction.
Sure, Grif had grabbed his hand when Simmons had made to stand up and he hadn’t even seemed to notice, not having removed his hand after Simmons had sat back down with an eye-roll.
Tucker, who Grif was talking to, had seemed to notice, however, and was giving their conjoined hands a look that Simmons wasn’t comfortable analyzing.
“So, Grif,” Tucker interrupted with a smirk, “what were you saying about going out the other night?”
“Oh right. I was thinking we could go to the local pizza place. It won’t be as good as Sammie’s, but I need pizza so we should go and try this shit.”
Simmons blinked looking between the two of them. Why hadn’t he been invited to any kind of pizza-involved outing?
“I’m always down for pizza, but I don’t want you bitching about how bad it is if it isn’t up to your dumbass standards,” Tucker said.
“No promises,” Grif said with a grunt.
“Sooo, pizza,” Simmons said, sounding totally normal and not at all like he was jealous or upset by the two soldiers clearly hanging out without him. “That’s cool. I mean everyone likes pizza. Ha ha ha.”
Grif raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn’t comment on his weird behavior, “that’s what I’m saying, pizza is a no-lose situation.”
“Totally. I think everyone in this room loves pizza, hell probably everyone in this building, maybe even everyone on the whole planet.”
“Okay, why are you being weird,” Grif said, finally addressing the way Simmons’s voice was ratcheting up an octave as he spoke.
“I’m not being weird, I just think everyone likes pizza and that that should be… noted, or something!” Simmons said, voice going quieter as the sentence went on and he realized he didn’t actually have a point. Before Grif could point out that what Simmons had just said was pretty obvious proof of him being weird he spoke again. “Anyway, I have to go.”
And without elaborating Simmons stood quickly, pulling his hand out of Grif before marching to the door and letting it slide shut behind him.
Simmons really didn’t want to think about the fact that Grif was right and he had been acting weirder and weirder lately. He had no idea what he was feeling and was sure the others had no idea too. It certainly couldn’t be something as lame as feeling left out, no sir. Simmons was well past that. He and the other sim troopers were as close as could be now and nobody was leaving Simmons out of anything.
Except for going out to dinner apparently. And of course, the band that Grif and Tucker were a part of, even Caboose was in it, but not Simmons. Sure that was only because he didn’t have any form of rhythm. Still, it was one more thing that Grif was doing without him. Simmons wasn’t going to begrudge Grif his relationship with Tucker, he just didn’t like the feeling that he was being left behind in the process.
“Grif please!” Simmons pleaded, his voice hitting a brand new level of shrill; he couldn’t believe what was happening. “It’s me! It’s Simmons!!”
“I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t my friend,” Grif hissed back, voice poison as it sunk into Simmon’s veins.
Simmons was staring down the barrel of Grif’s gun, panic going through his chest that he had never felt before. He couldn’t tell if he was more scared of being shot or of the fact that there was absolutely no recognition in Grif’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” Simmons cried, tears actually threatening to fall down his cheeks. “You know it’s me, just ask! Just ask the question, I know the answer.”
“Don’t be stupid, I don’t need to ask anything,” Grif said raising his gun and looking down the scope. “I know Simmons best and if I say he’s Simmons then he’s Simmons.”
Grif gestured to the marron soldier battling for control over their fight. Gene and he were just as strong as one another and he couldn’t get the upper hand.
“No, no!!” Simmons cried, “You’re wrong!”
Gene smirked at Simmons. Looking into the other soldier’s face was like looking into a mirror, every feature repeated exactly. Except for the smirk on the other man's lips as he was clearly winning Grif over.
“And Simmons definitely isn’t as much of a bitch as you,” Grif said. “Say goodnight copycat.” And he pulled the trigger.
It was like slow motion the way the bullet zoomed through the air and pierced through the left side of Simmons’s chest, just over his heart. There was no pain as he was knocked out of Gene’s hold and started to plummet over the side. Even though he knew it was over he couldn’t help the scream that was ripped from his mouth as he fell into the lava on the other side of the barrier.
“GRIF!!!”
“Simmons!” Grif shouted in return and Simmons sat straight up out of bed, knocking his head into something hard and falling back almost as quickly.
“Ow fuck!”
“Jesus, what the hell was that?” Grif asked and when Simmons looked up he saw the orange soldier standing over him in his pajamas and holding his head.
“W-what?” Simmons asked, still reeling from what must have been a dream.
“I don’t know about you dude, but I don’t often thank the person who is waking me from a nightmare by headbutting them.”
“I– I don’t–,” Simmons started. “What are you talking about?
Grif sighed and sat down on Simmons’s bed, “You dude, you were having what I’m guessing was a pretty bad nightmare since I could hear you screaming from across the hall.”
Simmons felt his cheeks heat up as realization washed over him. It had been a dream, a dream where he had been scared out of his mind that Grif hadn’t been able to tell it was him and he was the one who had gone spilling over the railing. He tried taking some deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
“What were you dreaming about?” Grif asked casually, surprising Simmons by taking his hand in his own.
If it was possible, Simmons’s cheeks went even redder and he almost didn’t want to answer.
“You were screaming my name,” Grif said.
Simmons sighed, he figured the truth was probably less embarrassing than anything the other could make up in his head after having heard him.
“I was dreaming about the fight with Gene,” Simmons admitted, “Except this time you didn’t recognize me and I was the one who got shot off the cliff.”
Grif’s eyes widened in understanding and Simmons braced for the mocking that was sure to come.
“Well that is pretty ridiculous,” Grif started and Simmons nodded miserably, “Cause there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize you.”
Simmons’s head shot up and he made eye contact with Grif who was looking at him more gently than Simmons had ever thought possible.
“W–what?”
“I said what I said. I’d know your nerd ass anywhere, so clearly this dream of yours is pretty stupid.”
Simmons felt his heart lighten slightly and part of him actually believed what Grif was saying. He was saying it with such certainty.
“Those are pretty bold words,” Simmons joked, “I think if your double were there I might have picked him just on principle.”
Grif snorted, “yeah you wish, but you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”
And Simmons was starting to believe that.
“Now move over,” Grif said, pushing him gently.
“What?”
“You heard me, move over, make some space. I am not gonna risk falling on the ground just because you want to hog the bed.”
Simmons blinked because he was still pretty sure he wasn’t hearing correctly, but before he could say anything else Grif started pushing him and Simmons was too surprised to do anything but move over.
Simmons just sat and watched as Grif made himself comfortable in Simmons’s bed.
“You gonna stare or you gonna actually try to get some sleep?” Grif asked with his eyes closed.
Simmons felt himself go red, but he laid down regardless, doing his best not to touch any part of Grif that he could, but the bed was too small and Grif was too big to avoid it completely. Simmons could feel his heartbeat in each of the places the two touched, his knee, along his arm, and the top of his foot. He hoped that Grif couldn’t feel it because it was too fast and erratic and he knew Grif would make fun of him.
It took him way too long to fall asleep, but at least when he finally did he didn’t have any more nightmares, so maybe Grif was on to something.
“Are you crazy? There is no way you can make a person into an AI,” Simmons yelled, knowing Grif was just trying to get under his skin but unable to stop it from working.
“Sure you could dude, you’ve just got to insert enough nanos or stem cells, you know science shit!” Grif said with far too much confidence.
“Ok, now I know you’re really insane because those things aren’t even in the movie you’re defending.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m not defending a movie that couldn’t happen. Obviously, I’m talking about real-life and real-life things, like replacing an entire human being with a computer. You’re a cyborg you know all about that shit.”
Simmons rolled his eyes so hard that he thought they may actually fall out of his head, well the human one, the left one was reinforced with a titanium alloy.
“I’m half made of metal, that doesn’t mean my brain doesn’t function like a human brain.”
“That’s another thing!” Grif said, way too indignant for someone who was about to be so wrong.
“ What’s another thing?” Simmons asked, ready to be disappointed.
“The brain! It’s like a computer, people say it all the time, so what exactly is stopping people from just being a computer? That’s right the human body, if it was made entirely out of metal then humans would just be computers.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense Grif!” Simmons grumbled. “A human brain would still be a brain if it was surrounded by metal instead of flesh. There would still be emotions and regular human thoughts that don’t function like a computer. If you really wanted to make the brain into a computer you would need to construct it entirely out of nonbiological components which would mean it was never a human in the first place!”
“So, what you're saying is it’s possible.”
“No!” Simmons cried, not totally sure how his words were misconstrued again, but definitely feeling like it was impossible to continue.
“What are you nerds arguing about now?” Tucker asked as he and Washington entered the room they were all affectionately calling ‘The Band Cave’ but they hadn’t had any actual band practice for a couple of weeks now.
“Just about how Simmons is wrong and sci-fi shit is always true,” Grif lied easily and Simmons felt like his head may pop off his shoulders.
“Must be a pretty good argument if you aren’t pushing Grif away,” Washington said with an amused smirk.
Simmons looked at him with a question in his eyes and the freelancer gestured up to Simmons's head, where, sure enough, Grif’s fingers were running through Simmons’s hair. Once Simmons became aware of it he also became aware of the fact that it felt really fucking good, but that just added to his embarrassment and he quickly pulled away.
Simmons pushed Grif’s hand away, sure that the other soldier was going to laugh or make fun of him, but instead, he pouted, pouted, up at Wash.
“Aw man, why’d you have to say something, I finally got the guy to relax a little.”
The confirmation that Grif had been aware of what he was doing and had been doing it for Simmons made his cheeks heat up even more.
Wash just shrugged apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t realize he didn’t know. I’ve never been so distracted that I didn’t feel hands running over my scalp.”
“Yeah, dude, makes it pretty hard to believe you guys were just talking about your usual sci-fi bullshit,” Tucker added, raising his eyebrow suggestively.
Grif rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s all we were talking about and it doesn’t really matter if you believe us, that’s just how we roll.”
And Grif was right, that was just how they rolled, everything had felt so natural that even the added physical contact hadn’t been unwelcome or odd. Simmons didn’t really want to think about why that was, especially with Tucker still leering at him.
“What did you guys want anyway?” Grif asked, still looking a little annoyed.
“Found a new pool bar downtown and this one looks like it definitely does not suck,” Tucker said.
Grif scoffed, “you said that about all of them, and the last one didn’t even have any pool balls! It was just a bunch of felt-lined tables and an old jukebox that didn’t work.”
“What?” Simmons asked, his head snapping up to look at Grif.
“Pft whatever, there was still booze and booze means it was still a good time. Anyway Wash and I already went down to this one and it actually has all the things you need to play pool, we played a few rounds and everything.”
“Oh yeah?” Grif asked, looking unimpressed, “Say, Wash, is Tucker really the pool master he claims he is?”
Wash smirked and Tucker rounded on him before he could say anything.
“You keep your mouth shut,” Tucker said, then pointed at Grif, “and you just meet me downtown at the regular time on Friday and prepare to get your ass handed to you.”
“Wait–,” Simmons said, but again he was ignored.
“If your pool is as good as your trash talk then I’m not worried.”
“Whatever dude, just wait and see,” Tucker said as he turned around and headed out the door with a backward wave and Wash in tow.
Grif rolled his eyes and looked over at Simmons like he was expecting the maroon soldier to be making the same exasperated face, but it turned surprised when he saw the sullen look on Simmons’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
Simmons kept his mouth shut, considering whether he actually wanted to talk about it, but the look Grif was giving him, like he really didn’t know, made him speak up.
“You’ve been going to bars with Tucker?” Simmons asked, trying to sound normal about it, but from the look on Grif’s face, he didn’t manage it.
“Yeah, the guy keeps talking up how good he is at pool and I have obviously taken it as my personal duty to show the man what’s up.”
Simmons felt his stomach clench in pain again and he didn’t like what that meant.
“Cool, cool, cool, that’s cool,” Simmons said in a voice that sounded pretty fucking far from cool.
“Okay, what the hell is it this time?”
“What is what? ” Simmons asked defensively, “and what do you mean ‘this time.’ ”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird you’ve been acting lately, do you have some problem with Tucker? Did he fuck your mom at some point that I’m not aware of?”
“No!” Simmons said, his voice high, “I don’t have a problem with Tucker!”
“Then why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird!”
“Okay, that is like the lamest comeback ever, are you actually gonna talk to me about this or what?” Grif asked and Simmons was so surprised by how genuine he sounded that his snarky reply got caught in his throat.
“I– I don’t,” Simmons stuttered, “There’s nothing to talk about!”
Simmons stood up quickly, missing the way Grif reached out for him.
“Anyway, I should leave you and Tucker to go bond in your bars or whatever, wouldn’t want my ‘nerd ass’ to get in your way.”
And for the second time in as many weeks, Simmons was leaving Grif behind and letting the door slide behind him, this time wishing he could slam it to really get his point across. He ignored the sound of Grif calling out his name and rushed to his room, pretending like the water on his face wasn't tears.
Simmons would never admit it out loud, but he almost immediately regretted running away like a little bitch. Was he really upset because his best friend was becoming close with another one of their friends? Simmons hated that it was starting to look that way and Grif was going to be able to use it as mocking fodder for at least a week.
The easiest solution was to avoid Grif for that long, if not for the rest of his stupid life. Unfortunately, Grif had different plans.
“Alright, what the fuck is your problem?” Grif asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, only two days after Simmons had run out on him, as Simmons had tried to slip out of the room as Grif had entered it.
“I don’t have any problems,” Simmons lied, avoiding eye contact.
Grif rolled his eyes, “next time you try to tell a downright lie, it works better if you don’t use something that can be so easily disproved.”
Simmons was surprised by the rush of anger that coarse through him, “shut up Grif you don’t know anything about me.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, that is right, so now if you could kindly move your fatass out of the way I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Oh really? I’m afraid I don’t believe you, so you’re not gonna run out on talking about shit this time.”
Simmons felt his stomach swoop uncomfortably and looked at the door to consider how difficult it would be to elbow Grif out of the way, but eventually, he decided against it because Grif was freakishly strong and if he really didn’t want Simmons to leave then Simmons would not be leaving.
Instead, Simmons tried to save the little dignity he had and turned around to stalk back to the chair he had been sitting in before Grif had turned up.
“Okay, then talk,” Simmons said, as though he couldn’t care less one way or another.
Grif didn’t look like he was buying it as he made his way into the room and sat across from Simmons at the table. Simmons braced himself for whatever Grif was going to throw at him, but the bigger man just sat and waited, like he was expecting Simmons to throw himself under the bus, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Unfortunately, it was Simmons who broke first.
“I thought you had something to say,” Simmons said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “or did you just want to sit across from me and stare?”
Grif sighed and uncrossed his arms, “Listen, Simmons, I have no idea what’s been wrong with you lately, but I think it would be easier for both of us if you just told me so I can fix it or stop doing whatever it is that’s upset you so much.”
Simmons blinked at him. That was not what he was expecting Grif to say at all. He had been expecting mocking, harsh words, and at least one profanity, but there hadn’t been any of that. Instead, Grif had looked at him genuinely, his eyes showing frustration and exasperation, but no malice. Nothing at all to show that he was angry at Simmons, just that he was annoyed at the situation.
That alone had Simmons speaking up, “it’s not like you’ve done anything wrong per se.”
“Well thank fucking god for that,” Grif said, but his tone was bitter. “Then what the hell is your problem?”
Simmons scowled, he really, really didn’t want to say ‘you’ve been hanging out with Tucker a lot and I don’t like that you’re leaving me out' because it sounded like something a 5th grader would complain about and Simmons was an adult. A fully grown, fully capable adult. So, instead, Simmons did what Simmons does best, he avoided conflict.
“You and Tucker seem to be getting on well these days,” Simmons said, trying to sound uninterested, but probably failing.
Grif narrowed his eyes, “is that what this is about? Tucker?”
“No!” Simmons yelped. “I have no problems with Tucker at all.”
“Well, now I know you’re lying, you have at least a few problems with everyone. So, what? You don’t want me hanging out with Tucker? Because I have to say man that’s pretty sad even for you.”
“That’s not it!” Simmons burst out, frustrated. “I just don’t want to keep being left out!”
There he said it. And the ensuing silence seemed to tell him that he shouldn’t have and he was about to talk it down when Grif spoke up.
“You don’t want to be left out?” Grif asked, incredulity dripping from his words. “How exactly do I ‘keep’ leaving you out?”
Simmons made an offended sound, “Uh how about with the band? Or going out for pizza? You have a regular time that you hang out on Friday that I didn’t even know about!” Simmons was not going to get embarrassed by how high his voice had gotten.
Grif let out a long and slow breath, “normally it would be too much work to explain why everything you just said is fucking stupid, but it sounds like you need to hear it.”
Simmons bristled, ready to defend himself, but Grif didn’t give him a chance.
“First, you don’t want to be a part of the band, we literally already asked you and you said you didn’t have any rhythm and that you’d rather be in charge of whatever nerdy tech shit it takes to actually play in a band, or did you already forget that you’re our roadie?”
Simmons flapped his mouth, he had already forgotten, but they hadn’t talked about that since Iris so it had been a while. Grif wasn’t done though.
“And what do you mean going out for pizza?” Grif asked. “I’ve literally only gone to get pizza with you since I’ve been on Chorus.”
That Simmons could refute. “You and Tucker were talking about going out for pizza right in front of me. You said you wanted to try the local pizza place, you and Tucker were going to go together!”
Grif’s brow furrowed as he thought for a second, “wait, are you talking about the first time we tried that place?”
“I guess!”
“I literally went with you! Don’t you remember; it was you, me, Tucker, and Wash. Are you seriously forgetting how I went into detail about all the ways Sammie’s was better? Because it was the first time I had ever been there.”
Now that Simmons thought back to that night, he did remember something like that, but he hadn’t thought much about it. Something did warm in him knowing he hadn’t been left out and forgotten, but there was still the fact that Simmons didn’t even know about their standing Friday hangout. It was the kind of thing Grif would mention normally, wouldn’t he?
“And going to play pool?” Simmons asked, not making eye contact with Grif. He never liked admitting he was wrong and that sentiment went double when it was Grif who was right.
“Dude, you hate pool and going to bars and shit, why would I invite you out to do that? Tucker does. We both like chillin' in the same way. That’s not a problem is it?” Grif asked with a raised eyebrow.
“N-no,” Simmons said, defeated. “I guess I was just letting my head get away from me, you guys are just a lot closer than I realized.”
Grif shrugged, getting the look on his face whenever emotional-type things came up, “yeah, well, he’s like my best friend or whatever, it’s not that weird that we hang out.”
“WHAT?” Simmons shrieked, bolting out of his chair.
“What the fuck!” Grif put his hands on his ears and looked at Simmons like he had lost his mind when Simmons was sure that must be the case for Grif.
Simmons didn’t care about Grif’s outcry, he was too upset.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You finally work out the emotional maturity to use the words ‘best friend’ and you fucking use them on Tucker ?! What the hell does that make me then, huh? We’ve literally been together for 18 fucking years and you don’t even think I’m your best friend? Go on then! What the hell am I to you because I refuse to let Tucker take my fucking place that easily.”
Grif was giving him a look like Simmons was the dumbest motherfucker he’d ever seen and that on top of everything else was making Simmons start to see red. As though it was Simmons’s stupid fault that he thought he and Grif were best friends when it was actually super fucking obvious.
“You’re serious right now?” Grif asked, standing up to look into Simmons’s eyes, even though he was a few inches shorter, his tone suggesting he was almost as angry as Simmons.
“Yes! I think I deserve to hear what exactly I am to you if I’m not your best friend,” Simmons huffed.
“Uh, my fucking boyfriend , how’s that, Dick ?”
At the word ‘boyfriend’ all the strength fell out of Simmons, his jaw fell open but he was rendered basically mute. No words would come and he had to sit down.
Grif blew out a breath, “I can’t believe you really didn’t know, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
Simmons just shook his head lightly.
“Dude,” Grif said, a teasing tone in his voice, “I’ve been holding your hand since we’ve gotten to Chorus, we slept in the same bed. Hell, we even went on a date!”
Simmons's head whipped up at that.
“When we got pizza? That was a double date with Wash and Tucker,” Grif said so matter of factly.
The words “Tucker and Wash are dating?” got expelled from his chest before he could even think.
Grif just laughed and sat back down across from Simmons again, but this time he reached out and took Simmons’s hand. When he did Simmons realized just how natural that felt and that they really had been doing it a lot lately, more than he realized.
“Not sure how I feel about those being your first words after finding out we’ve been dating, but whatever. Yes, they finally pulled their heads out of their asses, like I thought we had, but apparently, that was just me.”
“I don’t think you can claim two people are dating if one of them doesn’t even know about it,” Simmons finally managed to say, but he was still reeling.
“Fine.” Grif rolled his eyes, “Simmons would you be my fucking boyfriend already?”
Simmons was surprised by the laugh that burst out of him. He couldn’t say he hadn’t ever thought about dating Grif, too many people had been making jokes for too long, but he never thought either of them would ever actually say something about it. Simmons squeezed the hand in his and felt a rush of affection as Grif squeezed back.
“You’re going to be the worst boyfriend ever,” Simmons said in answer.
Grif laughed, “Shut the fuck up.”
Then he leaned in and Simmons met him halfway and they kissed over the dinner table. It was easier than Simmons expected, not that he hadn’t kissed a guy before, but the fact that it was Grif and that it actually meant something, made it both scarier and easier.
“Oh my God,” Grif exclaimed as they parted.
“What?” Simmons asked, eyes narrowing.
“That’s why you acted so weird when we woke up cuddling.”
Simmons spluttered.
“You actually love cuddling don’t you?” Grif said with a suggestive look.
Simmons pulled his hand back, “No! It’s too hot and you can never get completely comfortable, it’s pointless.” But the fact that his face was growing red gave him away.
“I knew it,” Grif grinned, “Tucker owes me that $20 bucks back.”
“You were betting on whether or not I like to cuddle?” Simmons asked unimpressed.
“That and other things,” Grif grinned wolfishly. “Can’t a guy prove he knows his boyfriend and make a quick buck at the same time?”
Simmons considered for a minute.
“I want in on that action.”
Grif laughed and Simmons smiled back and it was easy.
And that was the plain and simple truth of the matter, being with Grif was always easy, it didn’t matter what they called themselves. They were Grif and Simmons and that was enough.