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Grog made her feel strong. To share the battlefield with a half giant (and on his side, no less), to be treated his equal, that would let the power go to anyone’s head. He had taught her how to wield a weapon, she had taught him how to stay alive doing so, and when together they fought the evils that plagued the land of Tal'Dorei, there was no doubt in her heart that he saw her as his equal in battle. They would train together during downtime and he did not hold back − she knew him well enough to know so when he did. She was his friend, a sister of sorts, but in those moments she was an ally most of all and she felt mighty. He cheered when her hits landed, for any feat of strength, and Pike flexed her muscles for the sound of his laughter and hers. There was nobody she would have rather fought alongside with.
Pike made him feel strong. A life of travels weighed heavy on her poor little gnome legs having to keep up with longer ones every stride and he would often pick her up and give her a seat atop his shoulders, her tiny hands on his big bald head as though she steered him with it. She weighed nothing, less than nothing, a feather in the breeze. It was for the little folks like her and Wilhand Grog hacked away at foes. Pike made him want to be even bigger, even stronger so that he could fence off hordes against even a million little gnomes. If he did, he had no doubt she would be right there by her side, calling out the attacks upon him, guiding his strikes to hit bullseye. They made a game of their fights, a friendly competition, and he felt like he swung all the harder when he knew she would be keeping count and watching over him. Both of them were each other's shield in the end.
Pike made him feel soft. When Vox Machina camped for the night and Pike yawned before curling up into a ball and snuggling against him, he felt like a young boy with a new fluffy kitten he just wanted to look at and pet on its little head. He liked the little folks through and through, how steadfast they could be in a world tailored to the big ones, but Pike was a favorite by far. She was such a wonderful little thing, too, always with a nice word to say, a little prayer to give, awkward as it was. The world knew her as brave and righteous and mighty, but there was a Pike beyond the cleric of future legends and tavern epics. The Pike who was finally getting buzzed and leaned her head against his arm as she nursed her tankard, the one who stopped to pet a dog in every village, the Pike who watched Scanlan play his little songs and pretended she was not falling for him a bit more every day. She was good through and through, the most tender of hearts, the kindest of souls.
Grog made her feel soft. It was one thing to have a friend, but the tenderness she felt for him was far more akin to how she felt about Pop-Pop, about herself. She loved him because he was family. There was an air to him when he had disobeyed Vex or Percy and was trying to hide it, when he proclaimed like an utter revelation something that had been known for ages − or sometimes, something entirely untrue −, when he showed off a new purchase expecting praise. She was always glad to hand it out. With him, she felt like the truest version of herself which was fond of him in all ways. Nobody else, not even Scanlan would bring a smile to her face the way he did.
Grog made her feel smart, if just by force of comparison. She had never thought of herself as particularly dim-witted, of course, but when she found herself explaining things to Grog (which happened quite often and not without effort), it was hard not to think of herself as rather well learned. He listened to her like a font of knowledge and rarely doubted words she stated as truth. It was a responsibility, for sure, to never lead him astray nor taunt him for whatever his education had lacked, but this duty was one she fulfilled gladly. Teaching Grog meant deepening any understanding within herself, besides. Anything he had to explain to him, she had to narrow down to such simple terms that by the end of it, she knew the matter inside and out. Both of them were inevitably enriched by any impromptu lesson she gave him.
Pike made him feel smart, a feat of the divine if there ever was one. Grog was used to being brushed off for being utterly stupid − and at the deepest, most secret part of him, he knew that there was a bit of truth in that − but never with Pike. She knew that his mind, though simple, had cogs running and that he was capable of understanding what she laid in front of him if she was patient enough to give it an earnest try. In return, he trusted that she would never give up on him, no matter how much he struggled. He had learned ever so much because of her and more still every day. In a distance, blurry future, he might not even need her guidance anymore, but he knew that even then, Pike would continue treating him like someone capable of understanding. He had never known he was craving that before meeting her.
Pike made him feel silly. It was a drastically different sensation than making him feel stupid —which she never, ever did. People had to look for it to see it, but Grog had always known that she could be the naughtiest of pranksters when she put her mind to it. When they had been younger, sharing a roof with Wilhand, they would tell each other stories to make the other laugh, they would play games that made sense only to them, they would build a blanket fort and live a thousand adventures in it before it was disbanded in the morning. Though he had been a teen when they'd met, she had given him what felt like a childhood, a right to have fun just for the sake of it and with no repercussions. And if Grog had taken that lesson a little too well, she was not to blame for that.
Grog made her feel silly. An infancy among crooks and robbers, a childhood and youth with an elderly priest had made of her a prime candidate to loosen all the way up the moment she got the freedom she had never realized she yearned for at times. Bawdy jokes, tankards brimming with cheap ale, and he sent a smile and a tavern song to her lips. With him, she felt completely at peace and able to shed away the most and least of concerns for an evening of merriment. Weeks could pass at times without seeing Vox Machina, but as soon as she caught his big broad smile and he held her in his crushing arms, all concerns were gone from her and there was nothing but two best friends catching up again. There were moments, reuniting with him, where she did not care about the world, about its dangers and everyone on their track. Sometimes, all that mattered was making silly jokes with her very best friend.
Grog made her feel small. Of course, there was hardly a time in her life Pike could remember ever feeling tall (save perhaps for the old days helping out her slouching Pop-Pop), but never around anyone but her best friend did she feel like such a tiny thing. Grog could hoist her up in the palm of his hand if he pleased. She sat atop his shoulder like she weighed no more than a scarf. He dwarfed without even trying. His heart, though, was the biggest thing about him. Grog loved big, too. She had the chance to be a prime item of affection and there wasn't a day he did not show it. Crushing hugs, pats on the head that could have tripped her, in friendship just as in battle, Grog's strength was a feat to behold. She might have been biased, but hugs from anyone else, hugs that did not reshuffle the layout of her whole skeleton, did not feel quite as sweet.
Pike made him feel small. A disapproving frown, hands on her hips and head shaking sternly, and Grog felt himself shrink all the way to a puddle of fear on the floor. He had nothing short of complete blind faith in every word out of her mouth and if she ever chided him, he knew he must have messed up along the way. He had never known his mother, nor did he have any sibling, but when she found a cause to look at him with stern eyes, he felt like he understood a little bit of what that must be like. It did not matter then that she reached his knee and not much higher ; he was the small one, the little boy caught at fault. There wasn't a giant in the world to best her in that.
Pike made him feel safe. It was all in the warmth of her smile, always laughing with him and never at, the small hand gripping his large one when she saw he was upset (and Pike always did), the whoosh of her mace alongside his axe, the blessings of her god guarding him. Grog did not know much, but he knew for certain that there was nothing that would harm him so long as he had his best friend at his side.
Grog made her feel safe. His huge arms around her to shield and protect, the sturdy seat she took on his shoulders, the warmth of his laughter after just enough ale, his big brown eyes staring down at her in adoration, all blessings in whatever divine being had shaped Grog Strongjaw upon this planet. The first time they had met, she had saved his life. Grog in return had shaped hers. It was a bargain that would last till the end of their days.