They had made a mess in the bathroom. The fact that it was Donut and Griff making the mess, together, caused Sarge to seriously question whether or not he was dreaming. So instead of yelling, the man shook his head and went off in search of coffee; strong, bitter coffee to wake himself up. When he returned, the two men were cleaning the bandages, bloody clothes and splotches of blood together. Together. Grif was not lounging as he watched Donut clean, and Donut was not complaining about being treated like a maid.
"Something the matter, Sarge?" Simmons questioned from down the hallway as he noticed the man he looked up to standing confused before the bathroom. Sarge didn't react or respond, instead shook his head, closed his mouth and walked away. Simmons frowned, walking closer and peering inside the bathroom at the scene that occupied his CO's attention. Something flared in his chest as he gazed upon the scene before him. He twitched, hands clenching, before stalking away.
Donut smiled, throwing his dirty paper towel in the bin. He turned to Grif, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He shifted closer to the other man, who was awkwardly wiping a few small drops of blood off the ground.
"Didn't realise I was bleedin' so much..." He muttered, frowning before throwing his own paper towel in the bin. He turned to Donut, giving him a hesitant, unsure twitch of his lips. "Thanks for cleaning up my hand."
"I suggest not using it for a while. You did some pretty bad shit to it and... I couldn't cast it, obviously. So be careful." Donut paused, giving Grif a critical look. "But knowing you, you're bound to do something reckless..." He muttered, shaking his head before standing and holding out his hand to help Grif up. The other man held out his injured hand, but Donut shook his head and bent down to grab the other. "See what I mean? Just be careful, alright?" He tugged him up, and soon they were leaving the bathroom, carefree. At least Grif wasn't crying anymore.
"Donut? Thanks again." Donut nodded, giving him a small smile.
"Grif? Maybe... maybe I might have another plan..." The orange soldier gave him a steady, unsure gaze. He shook his head, backing down the hallway towards his room.
"No... no I think I'm cool, Donut. The last plan of yours ended with me waking up with cyborg limbs in a curiously perfect dream world, only for it to end in disaster and for me to return knowing what it would be like if life was perfect. And then realising the real world doesn't work that way. And then... well, punching a concrete wall, discovering love hurts, and—hey, how the fuck did you do all that... funny dream transporting stuff, anyway?" Grif pointed a finger at Donut's chest—on his non-injured hand, thankfully—and gave him a highly suspicious look.
"Well... erm... I'll tell you if you listen to my plan, okay?! Good, let's go to my room!" Grif sighed, shaking his head and walking after the pink soldier, hesitating at the threshold of his room. He peered in hesitantly, taking in the... strangely... nice room. Huh. He shook his head, stepping in. "Close the door behind you?" Grif complied, choking on air as he gazed upon a large selection of photographs—a lot of them appeared to be inconspicuously taken here, at Blood Gulch. He turned around to Donut.
"You're a photographer?" The other man nodded, gazing with fond eyes upon the myriad of pictures. Grif let out a 'huh', turning back to the photos and peering closely at them. They weren't the same as the one in his "dream Gulch", but they were just as reflective of this home, as those were. "Could I keep this one?" He pointed at a photo of him and Simmons. It showed Grif grinning wide, Simmons rolling his eyes at the end of what was perhaps one of the orange soldier's stupid jokes. Donut nodded, smiling softly.
"Finished trying to delay the inevitable? Take a seat." Grif sighed, peeling the photo off the back of the door, putting it in his pocket and took a seat. He stared at Donut for a moment, as the other man paced before him.
"Well, I happen to know for a fact that Simmons doesn't hate you, nor does he wish you dead. Ahah, don't interrupt Grif. I just want to give you a helpful nudge in the right direction, okay? Well, maybe you should... try and... seduce him!" Grif gave Donut a blank stare. "Or not. That's cool, too. Hm... Well, maybe—"
"Donut, shut up. Seriously. You'd think you, of all people, would know that things don't work that way. There is no hopeless romance in this. It isn't a fucking fairytale." Grif sighed, standing up and heading for the door. "In these kind of situations, it's probably just best to fish. And besides, Donut, I think I know a perfect way. I'll do this on my own."