Chapter Text
When Carolina opened her door to a red-faced Simmons, fully supporting one absolutely hammered Dexter Grif, she sensed that she’d made a mistake.
Still, as Simmons thrust Grif into her arms and, uncharacteristically, stormed off without a word, she didn’t dump him on the ground outside her rooms and slam the door. No, instead, she dragged him further inside her apartment and let the door shut behind them both.
“If I herniate a disc carrying you around, I’m going to kill you.” All she earned in response was a long, dragged-out groan. If it was possible, he managed to become even more limp.
“Grif. Grif, you have to help me out here.” He did nothing of the sort. Carolina managed to half-carry, half-drag him over to her couch. She dumped him halfway on the furniture, leaving his legs and most of his waist dangling off the side and on the ground.
Grif just whined, which she was sure would make a heart-wrenching sight for anyone softer. Like Donut. Or Simmons. Then again, it was Simmons who had shoved Grif at her and then abruptly left.
“What on Earth did you do to piss Simmons off so much?” She asked him. Grif raised his head slightly, long dark hair flopped over and covering his face.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He slurred. Carolina rolled her eyes, shoving at his legs in a moot effort to get more of him on the couch.
“Fine. Whatever. I’m sure that you two will be fine by the morning.”
They were not fine by the morning.
Carolina woke to the sound of dishes rattling. A delicious smell filled the air, and she clambered out of bed to chase the scent.
She padded silently into the kitchen, pausing at her counter to watch Grif cook. He seemed in his element in a way she rarely saw on the battlefield; his movements were precise and confident as he turned from one area to another. Then he turned and saw Carolina perched on the counter.
His reaction was also impressive. He immediately cowered back, lifting his forearms to defend his face and shouting in surprise.
“Relax, it’s just me.” Carolina jumped down, landing lightly on her feet.
“I know that.” Grif groused, straightening back up. “You just… caught me off guard.”
Carolina tutted lightly. Folding her arms across her chest, she did her best to stare down at Grif from the maybe-one-full-inch of height she had on him. “Always be prepared, Grif. You never know what might come around the corner.”
“Okay. I have three problems with that: one, what did I say the first rule of relaxing is? Two, this is your apartment , in an apartment building filled with Reds, Blues, and ex-Freelancers. Who’s going to sneak in here unannounced? Three, isn’t that the Boy Scouts motto? Don’t quote that at me.”
Carolina felt an unfamiliar feeling tug at her chest as a smile rose unbidden to her face. “Stop me then.” She challenged.
“Meh. Seems like too much effort.” Grif shrugged. He turned back to the stovetop, and Carolina looked over his shoulder with interest. It appeared to be quite the spread, including pancakes and at least two different forms of eggs.
Grif noticed her noticing, stepping slightly aside from the stove to allow her a clearer view. “Wasn’t sure what you normally eat for breakfast, so I just kinda raided your cupboards. Sorry.” He didn’t exactly sound super apologetic, but Carolina didn’t care.
“You’re good. I normally just eat a protein bar, but this looks really good.” She hesitated before tacking on, “Thank you.”
Grif just shrugged her off. “Least I could do for bothering you last night.”
“Yeah. About last night…”
Grif immediately shut down. It might not be apparent to someone who didn’t know him very well, but Carolina had been traveling and living with the Reds and Blues for what amounted to several years now. She could read the tense lines of his shoulders and the way his face stiffened as easily as if he were an open book. The way he reacted proved her theory to her: last night had been more than just an average fight between Grif and Simmons.
“What happened, Grif?” She asked. She did her best to make her tone gentle, and winced internally at the still-slightly-demanding note to her voice.
“Nothing! Nothing happened. Why? Did Simmons say something happened?” He asked frantically.
Carolina narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve gotten worse at lying since I’ve known you.”
Grif stared defiantly at her. Carolina met his gaze evenly. They stood locked like that for what felt like a long time, until finally, they were broken apart by the smell of something burning.
Grif cursed and lunged for the pancakes, breaking whatever trance had fallen over the two of them. Carolina stepped over to where the fire extinguisher was in her kitchen area. She’d made the mistake of letting Wash try cooking in her kitchen one too many times to not have something on hand.
But Grif had it under control. The burnt pancakes were swept off of the blacktop and deposited in the trash before Carolina had even fully turned around.
“Well, I guess we still have the eggs.” Grif remarked. He turned the burners off on everything, grimacing.
Carolina relaxed a little. She hadn’t known Grif was competent in the kitchen, but it made sense now that she thought about it. “Don’t think this gets you out of answering my question, Grif.”
Grif sighed deeply, and the lines of his shoulders read defeat. Carolina knew she had him.
“Listen, Lina.” He started out. “It’s just… I said something stupid and the nerd got mad.”
“You two do that all the time, though.” Carolina pointed out. “Something was different this time.”
“Why are you so invested in this anyways? It’s not like it’s anything unusual. I’ll avoid him for the customary week, he’ll feel bad and apologize even though it’s my fault, and we’ll be back to the same old shit.” Grif said bitterly. “You’ve seen the same cycle a million times.”
“He’s never dumped you off on someone else before, though.” She pointed out. “Grif, something is obviously different. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
Grif sighed deeply. “Yeah. I told him.” He confessed without preamble.
It took a minute for the words to make sense to Carolina. When they finally sunk in, she reached forward to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” She told him. Grif lifted a single shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, staring blankly at the plate of eggs.
“It’s fine. I knew what the answer was going to be anyways, y’know? I just… I had to get it off my chest. Simmons isn’t a relationship kinda guy, anyways.”
Carolina tentatively leaned forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Want to take the day off?”
“Fuck yeah.”