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Simmons’ mom was visiting.
Grif told his husband to let any of them on Iris know if it wasn’t going well and they would forcibly eject her back into space. There were five of them on Iris today. More than enough to yeet a skinny bitch back into the stratosphere.
She’d barely gotten out of her spacecraft, and she already looked upset. Imogen trotted across the dirt in her heels.
“Was there a reason your father and I weren’t made aware of your wedding?” Her arms were crossed in true Karen fashion.
How did she know about it? It wasn’t a big event or anything. She must’ve looked into Simmons’ recent official records. Kinda stalker-y, tbh.
Grif yawned. He was up most of the night because first Simmons wouldn’t calm the fuck down and sleep, and then nightmares plagued Grif once he fell asleep. It wasn’t often both of them had sleeping troubles the same night. If he was superstitious he might view that as a bad omen or some shit. They talked for a bit, and that seemed to help Simmons. He got him to stop pacing and lie down at least, but then Grif’s brain decided to be an asshole. Simmons dealt with his anxieties in the daylight hours, Grif’s snuck up on him in very real-feeling nightmares. It started getting bad back in Blood Gulch.
Needless to say, neither of them got very much sleep.
Simmons was used to running on all-nighters. Grif was not. He always got his sleep eventually, and that eventually was always as soon as physically possible. He was tempted to let himself fall asleep standing here. He was so fucking tired, but he wasn’t going to leave Simmons to face this alone if he didn’t want to.
Simmons looked unfazed. “Yeah. I didn’t think of you. And even if I had, I wouldn’tve wanted you to come. Things didn’t exactly go well when I visited.” Hell yeah. Grif felt a bit of pride hearing his husband face his fears so confidently.
Imogen paused. “That’s fair,” She bit her lip. “Grif, you may have been right in your… constructive criticism. My efforts weren’t working because I was troubleshooting the wrong area.”
Grif nudged Simmons, “You really take after your mom, huh.”
“What? Why would you think that?” They said simultaneously.
Grif just raised his eyebrows at them.
“In any case,” Imogen continued, “I will do my best to be more open to feedback. Your father is a definite work-in-progress, but I think if he can allow himself to learn, he’ll stop pushing you away.” She paused. “If he doesn’t, I’ll just get him cancelled by letting it slip that he’s transphobic and actually disowned his son for years for that very reason— oh no, Jimmy my darling! I couldn’t silence the press in time!”
“Mom, you wouldn’t!” Simmons’ smile was so wide, Grif wouldn’tve guessed he’d been fearing this reunion just last night. Things looked great on the surface, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a fucking riptide waiting to pull him under. Hell, didn’t Simmons remember Felix?
“You’re right, but it’s kind of funny to imagine his face as everything he’s built up falls down around him.” Yeah, that sounded pretty Felix-y.
“I don’t hear any laughter. Should I warn the CIA that my mom is a nefarious supervillain?” Simmons was leaning into the bit of the conversation. Grif was still tensed. He needed to be ready to intervene.
“No!” Imogen covered her smile trying to hold it in, “I just—“
“Hello, Mr. President?” Simmons continued. “Are you aware of the social superpower that is Imogen Simmons? It would take all our forces to even attempt to stop that woman once she’s made up her mind!”
A snort escaped through her giggles, “Dickie!”
Grif couldn’t bite back his smile. Maybe he should relax too. He was being as paranoid as Simmons could get. He could keep a lookout for red flags without being on edge. This was a completely different vibe from when he had dinner with them. This was nice.
A little more joking and chatter, then Imogen sent Simmons to grab her purse. Grif wasn’t sure why she’d need that, but he suspected it was to “complete” her outfit. Kai got like that about accessories too sometimes.
“Is Grif short for something?” Imogen asked him.
“No, it’s just my last name.”
“Oh, would you prefer I call you by your first?”
Grif shrugged. Not really.
“Fair enough. We’re not exactly close.”
“Uh, also… You were right about something too.”
“Yes?” Jesus, that got her full attention.
“Or at least, you got me thinking about what I wanted to do with my life,” Grif scratched his neck. “And if there was someone I’d want to settle down with. If you hadn’t brought that up, I probably would’ve taken a lot longer to tell Simmons how I felt about him.”
“Well.” She grinned, “I’m happy to know that. Thank you for telling me. You are very welcome.”
“Hey, Mom, here’s your purse. Could you go wait in the living room? I’ll be there in a bit.”
“I can certainly do that. Don’t take too long!” She called over her shoulder. She was as close to skipping as ordinary walking got.
“What did you say?” Simmons asked, staring after her quizzically. “She looks… really proud of herself.”
“Eh, she’s kind of the reason I confessed to you. That night that you didn’t realize I was confessing to you.” He still looked confused. “After red team had dinner with your mom?”
“She was? And you told her? You know she’s going to tell that story constantly right? We’re going to be hearing her brag about it every time we see her, so if she does become part of my life again—“
“There are worse things than a story about how we ended up together.”
Simmons smiled. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“You guyssss!!” A familiar falsetto shouted.
They turned. Sure enough, running towards them was—
“Donut??”
He leaped and hooked his arms around their necks, kissing each of their cheeks before they could react.
Grif grimaced. “Ugh, Jesus, keep it in Europe—“
“I heard the news!” Donut’s smile couldn’t be bigger. “I can’t believe you guys are expecting!”
Grif pushed Donut away. Personal space was an impossible concept for that man to understand. “Donut. What the FUCK are you talking about??”
“Expecting what?? I don’t have ovaries!”
“Forget your ovaries, there’s no fucking way my balls survived Tex.”
“What?” Donut processed for a second. “No, expecting company! I heard you were patching things up with your mom!”
“Who the fuck shortens that to just ‘expecting’? You were messing with us.”
“Jesus Christ, at least with the innuendos we knew what to expect.”
“Pun intended?”
“Shut up.”
“Wait, how did you hear about that? She just got here!”
“Well, I just heard about it.” Donut said. “From Sam.”
“Locus! Stop being a fucking creep!”
“Yeah, seriously, Donut. Tell your partner to stop snooping in everyone’s business.”
“He calls it reconnaissance.”
Grif ignored Donut, second nature to everyone, turning his attention back to Simmons. “Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?”
Simmons nodded. He didn’t look totally sure of himself, but Grif was dead tired. Grif had the usual nightmares last night-- almost dying, running for his life, abandoning his loved ones-- and even with Simmons by his side, he couldn’t fall back asleep. He just laid there awake for hours.
Sleep was a cruel and fickle bitch sometimes.
You think you know a bodily function necessary for survival and then it just turns on you. Food poisoning and nightmares were the worst betrayals to mankind.
Simmons told him it was fine, to try to get a nap in. He’d get him if he started to feel nervous. Grif knew he should go with in the first place, but he also trusted Simmons. Simmons would come get him if he needed support.
“I could supervise,” Donut offered, “I’ll be your escort to the room!”
The innuendos were less frequent, but sometimes they slipped by him. Or Donut was fucking with them.
“No, Donut.” Simmons said. “Listen, if I need anyone, I will get someone, alright?” He raised his voice. “That goes for you too, Locus. No creeping on me and my mom. Just stay out of Red Base, ok?”
No answer but that tracked for Locus. Donut ran off and it was (probably) just the two of them again. Well, seven people on Iris today then. More backup.
Grif slipped his hand into Simmons’. “Promise you’ll get me if you need me?”
“Yes. I already said I would.”
They walked together to the base. “I mean it, Simmons. Don’t try to be a hero. Facing shit alone isn’t heroic. It’s stupid and masochistic.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, I’ll get you.”
They’d part ways after this room.
Grif stopped and turned to face him. “You’re not being an inconvenience or a burden or any of that shit. Even if I’m a grump about it, wake me the fuck up.”
Simmons scowled. “I get it! Stop patronizing me and go the fuck to sleep!”
Grif walked off and held his hand up in goodbye. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”