Chapter Text
The clock that hung crooked in the mess hall felt like it was mocking him. A constant reminder of his inability to sleep as the minutes tick by one by one. Minutes had quickly become hours, and that’s how Gris found himself in the mess hall. Now he didn’t have this problem often, but sometimes when things became too hectic around base that anxious energy seemed to stick to him like glue. That left him awake at night doing one of the things he does best; worrying.
Worrying about his team, worrying about the children who risked their lives everyday. Worrying about the future of some of these kids, most notably Rudo. He worries about his entire team, all younger than him. Tomme, who never left base because all the family she had left was here at HQ. Follo, who wasn’t quite a kid anymore, but still sometimes went quiet for too long, staring at his hammer with a burning desire for something he couldn’t seem to obtain. Zanka, who would never be satisfied with himself, so much so he took days off only to spend them running himself ragged training. Riyo, who’s shrouded past hung over her like a ghost that simply wouldn’t leave. Rudo, so new to the ground, yet having already experienced so many hardships before and after falling here.
Gris sighs into his drink, the amber liquid at the bottom of the cup ripples with his breath. He doesn’t drink very much, mostly only when he goes out with Bro, Enjin or Semiu. But it felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders tonight, and apparently the one guy he knew would be up this late is nowhere to be found.
Enjin, ever the busybody, seemed to wander the halls at night, and if not doing that he was with Gris, out with Semiu, or someone else. He surrounded himself with people, but sometimes he’d vanish, and Gris still had no clue what to make of it. Even after all these years. He also had no idea where the cleaner ran off too, and he’d stopped guessing a long time ago. He only wishes he were around now, because he doesn’t exactly want to go back to an empty room with an empty bed, but as the clock ticks down, seconds passing, he thinks it’s becoming his only choice.
The trek back to his room drags on for what feels like years. The elevator had stalled on its way down, and on its way back up. The lights on his hall had begun to flicker a few days ago, but apparently decided tonight was the night to go out, leaving his hallway barely lit. He navigates the darkness anyways, one hand on the wall, running over the doorframes of his neighbors before he reaches a familiar door.
It had a chip in the wood from when Enjin and Semiu had been absolutely shit faced, and decided they’d try to prank him at 3 in the morning. It ended with the tip of Enjin’s umbrella wedged into his door, some sorry attempt at catching himself before he’d fall over after they’d tried to flee, blowing their cover in the process from cackling too loudly.
He remembers finding Enjin strewn out across the floor and Semiu hunched over, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. He’d never gotten the split wood fixed, and he doubts he ever will. He’s always been sentimental like that. Enjin would laugh at him for it, but Gris knows he’s just as bad, if not worse. He still has the mission paperwork from Riyo and Zanka’s first solo missions, and he’d certainly keep Rudo’s whenever his first mission rolled around. He had photos from years ago tucked away in a drawer in his room, the more recent ones hung up on his wall by the small desk he had. He kept the rough sketches of his tattoos that Gob had made him, and still had graffiti littered around his walls from the artist.
He was a sentimental schmuck just like him, and the thought made Gris smile as he pulled back to sheets, flopping into bed once more. He’d have to talk to the cleaner about taking some time off with his team, they could all use a little break.
—
Gris often slept with his choker on or nearby in case of emergencies. Something he’d always wondered if he actually needed to do, something Enjin’s always told him was something he didn’t really need to do. Turns out Enjin was wrong for once, and he’s the one proving himself wrong, isn’t that ironic?
His choker had begun ringing, that scratchy sound echoing in his room loud enough to jolt him awake just 47 minutes after he’d managed to fall back asleep. Gris had scrambled upright when he’d realized what was happening, grabbing the necklace off the windowsill. Enjin’s voice had rung through his room seconds later, somehow sounding utterly exhausted, irritated and defeated all at once.
“Hey man, I really need a ride.”
Turns out the reason he couldn’t find Enjin earlier was because the cleaner was off base. Not off base getting drunk or wandering around a city. No, he went waltzing around in a polluted zone alone in the middle of the night. Without a care in the world. Like polluted zones were not places trash beasts could form at any time. Like they weren’t the places he went to to kill said beasts for his job.
Sometimes Gris seriously wonders what exactly goes on up in Enjin’s head. He’s a team leader with three kids, and is somehow one of the most reckless people he knows. Not with the kids around, but when he’s off by himself? It’s like all that stuff he tells his team goes out the door. Like it just doesn’t apply to him. He’d never let one of his kids go waltzing around in a No Man’s Land or a polluted zone alone. But him? Oh that was fair game, it didn’t matter if he did it.
It didn’t matter if he accidentally got hurt, or if his mask got broken and he had no way to get another one. Nope. That just didn’t even seem to be something the cleaner thought about! First, it was the day he found Rudo, he’d just happened to be in a No Man’s Land and saved him. If Rudo hadn’t fallen, Gris would’ve had no idea one of Enjin’s past times was toeing with the line between life and death. A part of him hoped that maybe it was a one off, Enjin being out there alone that day, but apparently not.
Does he just do this whenever he wants to? Does he do it every time he disappears with no explanation, and then shows up hours later grinning like everything’s normal? How many times has he done it in general? And you can’t ask him about it, he’s a master at dodging questions, deflecting, or acting like your question was so odd you felt weird for asking it. Stupid, reckless, moron.
Gris tightens his grip on the steering wheel after a particularly rough patch of terrain nearly sends him swerving off the road. There must’ve been a recent bout of trash rain for the main road to have this much loose debris littered around. He hadn’t checked what time it was when Enjin’s voice had echoed through his room, but he assumes now that it had to be close to morning soon enough. Light was just beginning to brighten the heavy cloud cover above, but even then it was hard to see the road. Maybe Enjin’s car broke down because he’d unknowingly hit something, the cleaner drove like a maniac after all.
He slows when the familiar sign warning of a polluted zone comes into view, and he spots a figure just under the sign. Enjin’s leaning against the metal, a cigarette between his lips. The cleaner spots him, having the decency to offer a sheepish smile and a lazy wave. Gris rolls his eyes, even knowing the other man couldn’t see it. He can’t help the annoyance at this entire situation. He’d been kept up just over two hours ago because he was worried about the kids and his team, when apparently he should've been worried about the kid’s team leader instead.
He really was going to lose his mind.
And it’s not that he didn’t know Enjin could handle himself. He was a very capable person, one of the cleaners' best fighters. He could take on No Man’s Land and the creatures that live there by himself, but that doesn’t mean he has to. Just because he could doesn’t mean he has to risk that when there’s so many other people willing to watch his back the way he does for everyone else.
Gris pulls up beside him, the window rolling down, and Enjin steps forward, resting on the windowsill.
“Fancy meeting you here,” comes Enjin’s voice and Gris gives him a look that does little against the smile on the man’s face. It’d probably be more charming than it was if he didn’t look dead on his feet. Gris goes to respond, but quickly notes the lack of the supposed “broken down car”.
“Where’s your car?” It’s nowhere in sight, and Enjin hadn’t even said where exactly he was in the zone. He just happened to be waiting under the sign at the very entrance. Enjin tilts his head, the motion is accompanied by a poorly hidden wince, and a few things are starting to click into place.
“Look, I didn’t want you to worry.” Gris blinked at him. Didn’t want him to worry? He's been doing that all damn night even before this!
“What happened? Are you injured?” Enjin throws his hands up, waving them around with a strained smile.
“Nah man, just sore.”
“Where’s your car?”
He motions behind him, and all Gris is staring at is a heap of crushed metal, with vague resemblance to one of their company vehicles. Alarm bells go off because the only thing that could cause that kind of damage was a trash beast. He sits up straight, and pushes his door open, sliding out the car. His action seems to throw Enjin off, and he can hear the cleaner asking what he’s doing as he rounds the front of the jeep.
Enjin is hunched over, leaning heavily on his umbrella, and the car, his shoulders are wound tight and his clothes are dirty. He looks tired, but at the same time startled by Gris’ sudden change in demeanor.
“You got attacked by a trash beast didn’t you?” he hisses, approaching him. Enjin fumbles with his words, like he’s trying to come up with something to say, or deflect with, but Gris isn’t interested in whatever defense he comes up with.
“Gris-”
“Is anything broken? You’re hunched over.” His skin was a sickly pale color that contrasted heavily with the ink that ran across his body, which could mean a 100 different things, none of them good. Enjin pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Nothing's broken. Gris, I’m fine.”
“Have you looked at yourself? You are clearly not fine,” he retorts, and Enjin leans away from him, dropping his cigarette into the dirt. His boot smothers it a moment later.
“It was a small scuffle, I was stupid and I paid the price for it in the form of a very busted up car. But! I’m fine.” Gris inhales deeply, taking a moment to collect himself.
“What happened?” So Enjin tells him his story, one where he fell asleep in his car thinking the area was clear, and then being woken up by the rumble of a trash beast just before the car he’d been sleeping in was crushed. Gris is going to lose his mind.
“Please tell me it’s dead at least?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes, trying to ignore just how close he was to, in fact, dying.
“Very dead. Went down pretty fast, wasn’t very big anyways.”
“Then why’re you so?” He gestures to him, and Enjin shrugs, running a hand through his hair. The blonde strands weren’t raked back the way they normally were, his hair falling across his forehead, hanging above his eyes. If he looked tired before, he certainly looks worse now.
“Was like this before the trash beast nearly smushed me. Just wanted to get away for a bit.” It’s vague and answers absolutely nothing, but Enjin’s always been like that. Never one to talk about himself, and Gris knows that, so why’s it pissing him off so much now?
“And you came to a polluted zone? We live half an hour from a city that’s not crawling with trash beasts,” he snaps, surprising even himself.
“I don’t know Gris-”
“So you come out here? Risk your life to ‘get away’ and nearly die instead? What the hell, Enjin?” he hisses, and the cleaner rubs his eyes, sucking in a breath. He goes to open his mouth again, another defense on the ready.
“Look-”
“No! You look! Look at the crushed car you almost died in! Are you out of your mind? First you go waltzing around in a No Man’s Land, and now this? Do you not even realize how stupid this is? How reckless it is to just come out here on your own? You didn’t even tell anyone! What if you had died? What if you never showed back up and people went looking for you? What if Riyo, or Zanka or Rudo found your body because you decided you just wanted to get away?” He’s yelling. He really doesn’t do that much, not at people he cares about, not like this. He’s usually better about keeping his head on straight, but his heart’s pounding and he can’t get over how close he was to dying because of something so stupid.
“Do you want to die out here? Alone? Away from everyone you care about? Is that why you come out here?” Gris doesn’t like to think about how he’s scared of the answer, how he’s wondered this since he first heard of his venture into No Man’s Land a little over a month ago. What other reason could one have to come out here alone for no reason? He wasn’t sent out here by the boss for recon, he wasn’t sent out here by Semiu for a mission. He came out here just to come out here, why would someone do that unless they didn’t care about their own safety? Didn’t care what happened to them?
There’s hands on him, gentle and so fucking warm, resting right at the base of his neck, and Enjin’s looking him in the eyes this time. Those yellow eyes blown wide in surprise, brows knit together and his mouth is clamped shut. Like he’s run out of things to say, something Gris didn’t know was possible. He always had the right words, the perfect thing to say, but now he’s rendered silent, mute against the accusations Gris just spewed out in his anxious frenzy.
“I- No, I don’t come out here to die,” he utters, the words strained, and cautious, like he expects Gris to call him a liar or start yelling again. Gris listens to the words as he says them, lets them sink into the very being, soaks up every syllable. Enjin spoke like he’d be called a liar, but Gris can’t bear the thought of him possibly lying about something like this, so he closes his eyes, and brushes off Enjin’s hands in favor of pulling the younger man into a bone crushing hug.
The cleaner yelps in surprise, and Gris would probably have found that cute if he wasn’t shaking, emotions all over the place. Enjin’s hands settle across his back, and he takes a moment to compose himself. He feels just as wrecked as Enjin looks, disheveled and in dire need of some actual sleep.
He lets go first, and Enjin takes a step back, eyeing him with an expression he can’t quite decipher.
“Let’s head back.” Enjin nods solemnly, seemingly still rendered silent. The only noise he makes is a grunt as he slides in the car, rolling his shoulders before settling in the seat, hands wrapped loosely around Umbreakers hilt. He’d never turned the car off, so he pulls away from the sign without a second to waste.
The car is dead silent, not uncommon for them, but now the air is thick with tension that neither of them really know how to tackle. Gris is gripping the steering wheel so hard he thinks it might break, and Enjin seems to be fighting off the urge to fall asleep, head tilting every few minutes. He always did say Gris’ driving put him to sleep.
—
Gris picks up the strewn about clothes on his floor from when he’d scrambled to get ready earlier. Laying them across the top of his dresser to rewear. It felt too early to go to sleep now, and he wondered if Enjin thought the same. He had a tendency to nap during the day regardless, whether it was on the car ride back from mission or when lounging around the building. Said cleaner was currently in his bathroom, the sound of running water accompanying him as he picked up his room.
Enjin’s uniform was left in a heap by the bathroom entrance. Everything he had on had a layer of dust coating it, and Gris thought briefly about taking it down to wash. Then he thinks about how long the walk to the washing room is, and decides against it.
He begins to strip himself of his own clothing, making his own disorganized heap on the floor a few inches from Enjin’s. The room felt thick with tension, even though they weren’t trapped in the car with each other anymore.
The ride had been silent, no one daring to speak. Enjin spent most of the ride rubbing his temples, which is how Gris put together that he had either a headache or a migraine. And Gris spent his trip focused on the road and trying to process this entire night on a brian that felt like only half of it was functioning. Enjin seemed like he had wanted to do nothing, but sink into his mattress and be blissfully unaware of the world for a few hours. A sentiment Gris shared, but he’d suggested a shower might help Enjin’s head and here they were. He was surprised that he even got Enjin to come back to his room, but the other had agreed without hesitation.
Gris doesn’t want Enjin to get the wrong idea about them, doesn’t want his rant to come between them somehow. So he finds himself walking to the shower after pulling his clothes off, and stepping inside without warning. Enjin is staring at him, like he expected him to join eventually. Despite this, he still looks tense and unsure. Gris assumes this is the part of his other attempted relationships where Enjin seems to lack the knowhow on what to do. Too unsure of himself to make a move, and that’s where a lot of people get fed up with him. Gris gets it, but unlike those people, he knows Enjin doesn’t like pissing off people, he just seems to struggle on how to fix it. Which is kind of odd for him, considering how good he is at helping the kids through their mistakes.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he parrots, mirroring Enjin’s words from earlier. Enjin barks out a short laugh, eyes downcast.
“If you wanted me naked, you could’ve just asked.” Gris rolls his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, stepping further into the shower. Enjin wastes no time touching him, grabbing at his arms and holding them firmly. Gris finds himself watching the water roll down his skin, across the tattoos that littered his torso.
They don’t talk, but that uncomfortable silence from the car shifts into something more familiar. Still tense with unspoken words, and he can see from Enjin’s face that he wants to say something, but hasn’t quite figured out how. Gris’ hands lift up until he’s squeezing Enjin’s neck, and the younger groans quietly, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in pain.
He’s not sure how well this would work while they’re both standing, he usually did this when they were both sitting down, Enjin on the floor and Gris on the edge of his bed. Enjin’s head usually leaned against the inside of Gris’ thigh, eyes pressed into his skin to block out any offending light while Gris worked out the tension in his shoulders.
Enjin’s always been a victim of migraines, and found himself in Gris’ bed during them more often than not. He’d asked him once before why he never went to the infirmary for them, it’d have to be easier to deal with if he just got some medicine. Enjin had shrugged then too, before burying his face back in Gris’ pillows, one arm linked around his waist. He had eventually put it together that Enjin just didn’t want to be in the infirmary alone, and left his door unlocked for him since then.
The cleaner sighs as he massages his neck, shifting down to shoulders, pressing in all the right spots. Enjin eventually quiets, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed into Gris’ shoulder, his breath tickling the supporters skin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Gris pauses, eyeing the man. All he can see is his nape, but he doesn’t need to see his face to see how troubled he is. The shaking of his voice, the way he grabs at his waist, holding him as close as he can is enough.
“I don’t want to make you worry.” He nuzzles into the crook of his neck, and Gris places one of his hands across the younger's nape.
“I shouldn’t- I know I shouldn’t go out there. I wasn’t deflecting when I said I didn’t know why. I don’t. I just go out, and I end up somewhere. I don’t usually have problems like today, sometimes I don’t even go in, I just stay in the car. It’s not really an answer to anything, or what you probably wanted to hear. I don’t…” His words trail off, and he just squeezes Gris’ waist tighter.
“I don’t know. I wish I did, I wish I had more I could say to you because you deserve that, especially after putting you through all that, but I don’t. I just- I don’t go out there to die, okay? I don’t want you to worry about something like that, I didn’t even know I made you think that. I didn’t think it mattered so much.” Gris wants to yell at him again, that it does matter that much, that he’s no exception to the care he gives others, but he’s done enough yelling for tonight. He pries Enjin off him, and he was right about how upset he looks. Gris places both hands on his nape this time, tilting his head up so he’s looking him in the eyes. Enjin’s arms link around his waist in return.
“It does matter. I don’t want anyone I care about risking their lives for no reason. I shouldn’t have yelled, I should’ve just talked to you, but I was scared. I don’t want you to run off on your own and wind up dead. The kids would be devastated, I would be devastated. I know you’re strong, we all know that, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. But we don’t want to lose anyone, taking unnecessary risks like that doesn’t help anyone.” Enjin’s looking at him, lips turned downward into a frown, his eyes searching Gris’ face. For what? Gris would never be able to guess.
“Nah, you were right to yell. It’s what I needed to hear,” he admits, a rueful smile tugging on his lips. Gris chuckles, before falling silent again.
“Why’d you go out there today?” he asks, not sure if he’d even get an answer. Enjin goes to shrug, but falters midway, and lets out a defeated sigh.
“Migraine, couldn’t sleep. Just needed to get away.” Gris really cannot fathom how getting away to a polluted zone would help his migraine, but Enjin offers no explanation of his words. It makes him wonder if he even knows why he seems to be drawn toward them, if he even knows why he thinks going there helps.
When the water begins to run cold they pull apart, the knob squeaking when he turns it down. Enjin’s stepped out already, holding a towel out to Gris who takes it with a nod of thanks. Enjin’s still drying his hair by the time Gris leaves, he hadn’t gotten his hair wet, so he spends his time digging out some of the clothes Enjin’s left behind in his room over the years.
He finds a kinda ratty old black t-shirt and some shorts buried in the bottom drawer. The graphic on the front of the shirt had long since faded, but they’re both soft and smell faintly of tobacco. He lays them out on the bed, and pulls his own clothes on, discarding his towel on the floor next to their clothes. He thought it was too early now to go to sleep, but he makes the mistake of sitting on his bed, and all the exhaustion from the night hits him all at once. He sags, a miserable groan escaping his lips. He really hopes they don’t have some major mission today.
Enjin appears, looking less pale, but still just as tired, and he spots Gris on the bed. The supporter tosses him the clothing.
“You going to bed?” he asks, pulling the shirt over his head, his towel joining Gris’ on the floor.
“We really shouldn’t, everyone’s going to be up soon enough,” Gris mumbles. The sun's out now, and it’s shining through his window, blinding him. The curtains are pulled across the window by Enjin a moment later, before he’s being borderline tackled. Pushed back onto the bed by a figure that matched his height and could compete with his strength. He chokes on a laugh, pushing against his arm.
“Enjin-” he calls, voice cracking as he bites back another laugh. He’s got one arm trapped under Enjin’s, who has his waist in a death grip, holding him still. The cleaner doesn’t release him, instead he uses his other arm to grab Gris’ free one, and now he’s fully trapped. It’d only take a little effort to break out of his hold, but Enjin’s stomach is warm against his back, and he can’t help but give in.
“Fine, you win,” he admits, going slack in the other man’s hold. Only then does Enjin release him, flipping over so he’s laid out on his stomach, limbs sprawled out. Gris shifts too, only he rolls over onto his side, staring at the scar on the side of Enjin’s head.
“The kids are gonna be looking for you, you know. You promised Rudo you’d take him trash hunting.” Enjin groans, burrowing his face in his pillow.
“Then you better hide me reallyyy well.” The words are muffled by the pillow, but they make him laugh anyways. They’re both giants, hiding himself or Enjin would be borderline impossible in this small room.
“How am I going to hide you? You’re taller than my closet.” Enjin pulls his face free from the pillow, eyeing the aforementioned closet, before looking back at Gris.
“You’re smart, I believe in you,” he says finally, offering his signature grin. Gris watches him, amused, a fond smile finding its way onto his face. He reaches out and he brushes the damp strands of hair out of Enjin’s eyes. He was going to ask Riyo for a trim soon, maybe he needs to take Enjin with him.
“How’s your head?”
“Nothin’ a nap with you won’t fix.” Gris hums, rolling onto his back, and Enjin’s arm slinks around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, their legs tangled under the sheets. Enjin’s head settles right below his own, loose strands of his hair tickling his chin. He swats them away, and raises an eyebrow at Enjin’s face, buried into his pillow. How can he even breathe like that?
Enjin’s unconscious long before he is, and Gris finds himself jealous that he can just do that. Instead, he finds himself tracing the clouds that decorate the man’s arm, tracing over the intricate lines that adorned his skin. He’ll never know how Gob managed to get Enjin to sit still long enough for such a tattoo. He traces them until his eyes are too heavy to keep open, and he lets them slip shut. Voices echo from the hall as people get up for the day. Enjin’s muffled breaths blend with his own. He drifts off to the faint smell of tobacco, and shampoo, not a worry in mind.