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“Are you sure this is safe?” Grub said, hoisting himself up.
“Safe enough,” Chix responded, pocketing the keys.
“You're one to talk,” Grub scoffed, glancing at Chix's wings. Now, if he had a pair of those, wouldn't life be simpler.
Ahead of the two was a night shift. That was probably his own fault; Grub may or may not have raided the staff room mini-fridge a few days ago. Someone must have snitched to Root. So now here they were, on some random ledge, instead of the warmth and comfort of the LEP shuttle which they very much had. Actually, Grub thought, he should file a complaint about this. They very much had the means to keep the city air temperature pleasant, and yet the meteorologists had decided to already start decreasing it for the winter.
“But isn't it pretty?” Well, the view was nice. Sitting up there, they could see the decently busy corner of the city they were supposed to be patrolling tonight. And the sun was setting, though that term's thousands of years out of date.
“Sure.”
It certainly wasn't the most eventful shift. Couple of drunken teenagers causing trouble at some grocery store, a lost child whose dad ended up being right around the corner, but other than that, not much. Grub was on his third lap around the block, anything to relieve the boredom. Him and Chix had already eaten all of their snacks, played two rounds of cards and each taken a nap, gods forbid Root find out about that one.
“Nothing,” he sighed, having made his way back. He settled in on the concrete once more. Why was Chix outside again, anyway? Grub had managed to convince him to move to the shuttle about an hour ago. Eh, whatever. The sprite just nodded and mumbled something affirmative, not turning to face Grub.
Grub checked his phone. “Only twenty more- what are you doing?” Chix was holding something in his hand. It looked like a-
“Oh, that. It's a-” startled, he coughed. “It's a vape. Wanna try?”
Grub walked over. “I don't know...” he mumbled, looking around nervously.
“It's great,” Chix coughed again, choking on more smoke. “Strawberry.”
“I rather-” Grub stalled, running a hand through his hair.
“C’mon bro, it'll be fun,” he said, handing the vape over to Grub.
“Okay.” He'd never seen one of these up close. It fit nicely in his hand, though. Still unsure about whether he should do this, Grub raised the vape to his mouth and took a puff.
The rush, which he couldn't decide if it was pleasant or not, was immediate, but so was the need to cough. Grub suppressed it, eyes watering.
“Well?”
“Not too bad.” Grub took another puff.
Not so successful this time. Before he knew it, Grub was coughing and wheezing. The smoke was burning his throat. Bad enough for him to decide that this was, in fact, unpleasant.
“Uhh, Grub,” Chix interrupted his coughing fit. “Your brother's coming.” He'd had just gotten out of his car and was walking over.
“Fuck!” Grub raised his head. He fumbled around, desperate to get the vape out of sight, slipping it into his pocket. Just in time. “Hey, Trubs,” he greeted Trouble.
“Morning, Grub,” his brother returned the greeting, nodding to Chix, who was already packing up. That was Chix Verbil for you, unwilling to spend a single minute longer than needed at work, unless, of course, there was someone to flirt with nearby, and Trouble certainly did not count. He'd tried once and that was a mistake he would not make again. “The car’s in the parking lot. Mom made you pancakes for when you get back.”
“Alright,” Grub replied, too anxious to complain about how he didn't actually like pancakes. “See you later.”
Grub tossed his uniform in the laundry basket. That new material was so itchy, he'd have to complain to Foaly about this. Grub tucked himself in. Having worked two shifts nearly back to back, he was tired. Well, at least he'd have the afternoon off.
He was awoken by arguing. Grub checked his phone. It was about three p.m., a bit early, but Trubs could be back by now. His brother had probably forgotten to wash the dishes again. Still groggy, he stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen.
“There he is!” Trouble called out. Still in his uniform, so he must have only gotten home recently, Grub noted. The arguing stopped. Oh no. So this must be about him.
“Grub, what is this?!” his mom turned to him.
“What is what?” Grub responded, annoyed. He hadn't done anything, for fuck's sake.
“Don't play dumb.” It was only now that Grub glanced to the table. Oh no, oh no no no no no. Shit. His jacket was lying abandoned by the washing machine. The vape. He'd completely forgotten about it. He was actually going to murder Chix-
“Who gave this to you?” Great, now Trouble was also joining in. And again with the immediate assumptions. Okay, fine, they were true this time, but still.
“I- I found it,” Grub lied, trying to snatch the vape from the table. Trouble was quicker. Grub thought he hadn't seen him this serious for months.
“You're lying. Grub, I'm very disappointed in-” their mom began, but Grub cut her off.
“So what if I am?! What's the big deal about this anyway! I think my lungs are a lot more fucked from constantly being around the commander than taking a few puffs from this!”
“Grub!” Mom shouted, while Trouble exclaimed, “That's not the point!”
He turned around. Enough with this. He wasn't a child anymore. Ten minutes later he was dressed and out of the house.
Trouble, standing by their childhood bedroom window, watched him leave through the back door. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh. It was obvious their mom was pretty controlling of Grub, and there he was, making it worse. Trouble sighed.
As soon as he was out of the house, Grub dialled Chix's number. He picked up on the second attempt.
“Oh, hey bro,” Chix, completely unaware, began. “Have you seen my vape, I think you-”
“Oh, I have your shitass vape alright, have you any fucking idea the trouble I got into, I'll fucking beat your ass-”