Grimmons. Simmons should have spoke up
Wondering Why We're Here
Chapter Twelve: Grimmons: Apology Pizza
The thing was, he knew it was a shitty thing to not say anything about. He knew that everyone shrinking back in shock at the plain visceral behind Doc's words was not nearly enough compared to if someone had actually done something.
Especially him. He could have done something. Should have done something. But in his non-defense, Simmons was just gasping an "oh, fuck" with everyone else before turning eyes on Grif for the explosion sure to ensue.
It didn't ensue. Grif…
Well, Grif folded in on himself.
"It was a nice circus."
And for most of them, that was pretty much the end of it. So much for a counseling session, move on to the next tactic, Doc. Perhaps the speaking ball would work out better for everyone.
But it wasn't over, it wasn't over for Grif and, judging by that look Grif gave Simmons, it wasn't over for Simmons either. Because, well, he should have been able to say something. Him, of all people, should have been able to say something even when there was nothing for anyone else to say.
Simmons had nothing, and he wasn't surprised at all as their failed counseling session ended, everyone started their ways out, and Simmons' hand on Grif's shoulder was quickly brushed aside and forgotten.
He took a deep breath, sighed it out, and got to work.
He might not have had Grif's experience or stealth with breaking into the kitchen, but he did have a reputation for sticking to rules, which made it almost too easy to bypass all personnel and head straight to the kitchen for himself.
By the time he was done, night was settling and there wasn't a light on in Grif's room, but Simmons knew well enough to knock anyway and not be surprised when the door flung open.
Grif glared at him but, for once, there was no smart remark, just a disappointed glare given by glassy red eyes.
Simmons held up his offering. "This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here."
For a moment, Grif didn't move one way or the other then, rather swiftly, he grabbed the platter and shut the door. Simmons was so stunned he didn't even lower his hand, just staring in horror at what had happened.
Then the door opened and Grif, with half a slice in his mouth, waved him in.
"What, you had to taste test it to determine if you'd take my apology or not!?" Simmons demanded, shutting the door behind him as he entered.
"Had to make sure you didn't half ass it," Grif responded. "By the way, it's accepted, you asshole. But try sticking up for me next time."
