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Like most people, Grif had a million different ways of expressing emotions over various things. There was the way he looked at food he was actually excited to eat, the smile he got when he talked about Kai, or the annoyance that flashed across his features whenever Sarge threatened to shoot him for whatever reason. But to Donut, nothing was more fascinating to watch than the looks he would throw Simmons’ way. None of the soldiers on either team were out of armor often and sometimes he could read their posturing but no emotion, no tell, no look was ever as obvious as when their helmets were off and Grif’s attention was on Simmons. Donut had done his fair share of pining after people back in Iowa so he knew better than anyone else what it was like to openly look at someone with longing, though he had to admit, it had never been reciprocated quite like the way Simmons stared back at Grif.
Aside from messing with everyone, Donut had never really actively looked to see if any of the people he was stationed with harbored any romantic feelings for one another. If anyone had ever asked him to guess which two people he could see end up married together at the end of it all, he would’ve shrugged and answered Caboose and Church but only because Caboose would probably cease to exist without Church. Nothing romantic or physical, just that Caboose would want to cement their friendship for eternity with legal jargon he couldn’t understand. All the better so Church could never leave him again. He never would’ve picked up on Grif and Simmons if it weren’t for the time he walked past the common area and caught a glimpse of what they were like on their days off. As odd as it was to say, it was actually kinda… cute. The two of them were contentedly lazing about on the couch, Simmons half propped up and legs askew so Grif could lay his head comfortably on his lap. They weren’t paying any attention to what was playing on the TV because they were too busy throwing popcorn at one another trying to see who could catch more. Anytime Simmons didn’t catch one in his mouth, he’d swat at Grif’s head and blame him. It was in their laughter that Donut knew: they loved each other.
At first he was convinced they themselves didn’t know but then he watched them some more and oh no, they definitely knew their feelings for one another. All the touches, the little glances, they were too deliberate to be anything else. There were so many little tells between the two of them! The most obvious had to be the way they snuck off base together at night. They thought no one ever noticed but it was hard to sleep what with all the clanging of Grif raiding the fridge with the grace of a bulldozer. Donut normally gave them their privacy but the more frequently this happened, the more inquisitive he became of what they were up to. So he quietly followed them out one night and what he witnessed was heartwarming but he also felt guilty. He never got caught but he felt like he was intruding on a very intimate, private moment that was meant for only the two of them.
They were sitting atop the base with their legs hanging off the roof, Simmons’ head nestled into the crook of Grif’s neck. Donut witnessed the maroon soldier place a chaste kiss on Grif’s shoulder and stare up at him with a fondness he’d never seen before. Grif was watching the grass sway slightly in the wind but Simmons was focused on the man before him. Grif turned and looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, the very ones they were sitting in front of currently. Both of them were illuminated in the dim glow of the moonlight and while it was a bit chilly out that particular night, the lightish red soldier could only imagine the two of them were more than alright if the warmth radiating off of Simmons’ gaze was any indication. He was turning to leave when he heard a brief snippet of their conversation.
“Do you ever think we’ll ever get to go back and live a normal life?”
Grif’s eyes quickly flicked back to meet Simmons’ gaze. “Don’t know. We’ve been at this for 13 years, that’s a hell of a long time, man.”
Simmons nodded, nuzzling his head into Grif’s shoulder some more, splaying his hand across the orange soldier’s torso. “I know, but I have hope. I think this’ll end someday. It has to, right? There’s no way it’s going to last our entire lifetimes.”
Grif snorted derisively. “It could. For all we know ‘our lifetime’ could mean tomorrow.” He raised up his arms in mock surrender at the way Simmons’ bionic eye bathed them in a darker, more threatening red glow. “Why’re you getting your panties in such a twist over this anyways? What do you think is waiting for you when this ends? If this ends. Your relationship with your father was shit and yeah, maybe you can go back and live with your mom but dude you’re beyond the age for that to be acceptable.”
Maybe Simmons nudged him aggressively, Donut was pretty sure of it by Grif’s sharp exhale, but what the Hawaiian native had said clearly hit a nerve.
“Ow, Jesus fuck. Sorry, dude.” Grif straightened up. “What did you hope for? What are you expecting at the end of this all?”
The steeliness of the look, the determination comingled with the earnestness was palpable. There was no hesitation in his response. “You. If I go home and have nothing else but you, I’ll be okay. If there’s nothing left for me back on Earth, I want to know that we’ll make a home together elsewhere. We’ll find somewhere to call our own to be ourselves. We’ve traveled parts of the galaxy other people haven’t and through it all we’ve managed to survive. When we were split up back at the end of our assignment at Blood Gulch, I chose to go with you. When you fell off the cliff, I dove after you, I chose to go with you again and I would keep choosing to go after you every time no matter what and I know you feel the same way too even if you won’t say it. We’ve been at this for 13 years, that’s a hell of a long time.”
In any other instance, Grif would’ve found a way to ruin this. Truthfully, he was fighting the urge to crack another joke because honest talks about emotions weren’t always his strong suit and any levity was welcome but he knew that this wasn’t the time to fuck things up. So instead of opening his mouth and letting anything subpar spill out, he did the best he could, wrapping his arm around Simmons and pulling him close. As Donut witnessed the orange soldier kiss a mess of red hair, he chose then to walk away feeling like he’d encroached on every conversation that had ever led up to that moment. There had to be many of them, it wasn’t only in the nighttime that they huddled together like this.
Come to think of it, he saw them positioned in such a manner often. It wasn’t as obvious in Blood Gulch; they’d be sitting atop a cliff like they had in that previous exchange but they weren’t draped over each other as comfortably then, a sign that they weren’t as close but were on their way. It made sense, they had just met and while they did disappear to the shade for hours on end, the constant close proximity was curious but not that questionable. At best, they sat next to each other, knocking their limbs together usually to aggravate the other.
Having split from the pair post-Blood Gulch, Donut didn’t know what went down between the two but he imagined they became closer than ever then because once everyone was reunited, that’s when the touches, the looks, and the world the two created for themselves became more deliberate. He wanted to say that the incident with Maine was the catalyst but if the interactions in Valhalla were any indication, the way Simmons reacted to Grif falling off the edge was a symptom, not a cause.
Maybe because nobody cared or paid attention, Valhalla found them a little more comfortable than they were previously but still nothing like how they acted on Chorus now. Valhalla was probably the most scenic of all the places they’d had the misfortune of being and Grif and Simmons seemed to revel in it. Grif insisted on taking showers in the waterfall complete with shampoo and soap and Simmons would consistently freak out about how he was tainting their drinking water supply. Trying to hobble out of his armor and keeping his arm and face away from the water, how quickly Simmons managed to start wrangling the toiletries out of Grif’s hand, Donut was quite certain it was all a ploy to get Simmons wet and somewhat naked. Damn if it didn’t work, the lightish red soldier had to admire his teammate’s candor.
It was sweet to see how enamored the two were with each other and it was nice to watch the progression of it all. The quarreling on the surface that spoke volumes underneath, the lingering looks that even through their visors the two could discern what each head tilt and cocking of a rifle meant. Peculiar as it was, Donut hoped that maybe one day he’d find someone for himself that he could look at the way Grif looks at Simmons when he thinks no one’s looking. He hoped that he’d find someone to hold him the way he imagines Simmons holds Grif in the dead of night. He’d never met two people so dysfunctional and seemingly ill-fitted but so perfectly molded for one another. They gave him a sense of optimism for his future that maybe somewhere in this galaxy, this universe, somebody was getting ready to fall so completely in love with him the way Grif and Simmons had with each other.