Grimmons. During a very awkward breakfast, Donut smells blood

Wondering Why We're Here
Chapter Seven: Grimmons: Relationship Problems

Donut sat on the other side of the table, greedily taking as much oatmeal into his mouth as possible without daring to look down from Grif or Simmons. As usual when it came to relationship problems, Donut could smell blood, and he could manage to make it feel like he was somehow sitting between them even from the other side of the room.

Simmons was staring down at his gruel, fork in one hand and spoon in the other, but even beyond his platter not looking appetizing, he felt like he couldn't stand to eat anything.

Grif had his shoulders turned just enough to seem like he was pointed the other way, but he didn't share the same appetite woes.

Well, Simmons thought, good for him.

When Donut finished his own breakfast, he quietly sat down his utensils, stretched a bit, and then put his elbows on the table, leaning forward with his eyes predatory just above his crossed fingers.

"So," Donut began.

"Don't you fucking dare," Grif snapped, not minding at all that his mouth was partially full. He waved a gross fork at their teammate. "I swear to god, Donut, don't you even start–"

"I don't even know what happened!" Donut defended.

"Exactly. Your input's not necessary," Grif snapped.

Simmons felt like he was about ready to pop, though. Ignoring Donut, he turned in his seat, glaring at Grif. His face felt like it was burning (and probably looked the part as well). "How long were you standing there!?"

The orange soldier stopped, swore under his breath, then turned his head just enough to give Simmons the stinkeye. "You're going to start shit now? In front of him?"

Donut looked positively delighted.

"Answer the question, Grif!"

Grif threw up his hands dramatically. "Long enough to know I'm apparently not satisfying something there, Simmons!"

"Sometimes you just have to… Oh, shut up. Like you don't…" Simmons felt so flustered even breaching the subject he had to cover his face and release a long string of "fuck fuck fuck fuck". All the embarrassment he thought he had swallowed down earlier that morning was working its way back up. "I just. You were taking so long in the shower–"

"My own room, Simmons, you think about that for a minute," Grif said almost mournfully. "Nowhere is safe from you. Nothing is sacred to you. You're an animal."

"My mom used to tell me it'd make me go blind," Simmons muttered.

"She's half right, it made me almost go blind," Grif huffed.

They sat there for a moment, everything aired out and yet nothing at all relieved.

Donut leaned forward, stage whispering. "Wait. So Simmons was masturbating?"

"DONUT!"