Above Ground

by Yin

AU. Dexter Grif really only ever wanted to keep himself and his sister out of trouble, and maybe get a few naps in while he was at it. But chance encounters end up putting him in the thick of a battle to save his home. ...Figures. {Grimmons, other pairings mentioned in fic.}

16. Chapter 16

Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Sixteen:

"Well, that certainly did the trick." C.T. noted wryly with a slight smile forming on her lips, glancing over at her babysitting charge across the room.

Junior was currently making a sound that seemed roughly like the alien equivalent of snoring, the motion of his chest causing the armor covering him to rise and fall as well. He had graduated from jumping on tables to apparently napping: the alien child lying flat out on his back right next to a snoozing Jensen doing very much the same thing.

Both of them peacefully dozing away was a surprisingly heartwarming sight: a miniature version of the adult aliens she had seen either in person or through video feed during her career in Freelancer, and a tan girl with a slight whistle to her breath as she slept thanks to the always present retainer in her mouth.

Considering how much activity it had required to get Junior to his current state, it was pretty obvious as to why Jensen was also taking a break too. Even Connecticut had to admit to being a bit more worn out than usual after Junior's insistence that he not go through the obstacle course alone.

They were still in the room that Sarge had apparently claimed as his personal training area for the new recruits on base, Junior pretty much conking out right where he had been standing after having finished his last run-through of the obstacle course. Jensen had promptly followed Junior into slumber mode after asking for "just five more minutes" of a breather.

It made sense considering the young lieutenant had helped the child through the course three times previously, Junior having begged her to do so after she'd been not as good at directing him through the trickier spots from the sidelines. Jensen seemed to have been having fun despite the tiredness, a smile appearing on her face even now as she napped.

"Tell me about it." The older man standing next to her snorted in mild disbelief as he regarded the two youngsters on the other side of the water part of the course as well, "Though how Tucker's alien love-baby went through that course five times before passing out is beyond me."

With Junior in tow, the two lieutenants and C.T. had asked Sarge for permission to use the obstacle course set here in order to keep Junior entertained for at least a little while.

It was a rather impressive work of construction, the former Freelancer noted. She even thought in some ways that it outdid the training hall in the Mother of Invention, especially factoring in the lack of resources available in the tunnels and Slums that had no doubt been a massive hindrance to the building process at times.

She was still trying to map her head around the moat portion, honestly.

The commanding officer of Red Team had been more than willing to allow them to use the course, especially since he had thought all of the lieutenants would instead be "trying to avoid the danged thing in any way imaginable" after their first experience with it. Sarge had actually looked rather impressed that that hadn't apparently been the case.

He even commented rather appreciatively on Smith's resourcefulness in having even come up with such a tactic in the first place, to which Smith had beamed and both C.T. and Jensen glanced at each other with a shared look of confusion over how trying to keep a child entertained somehow equated to military strategy.

Though, having seen Sarge simply eating at the mess hall, C.T. was of the mindset that he approached even the most basic of routines in his life as if they required military protocol at all times. She supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine him viewing babysitting in a similar way.

His one stipulation in allowing it was that he would be able to observe the play date or, in his own words, "the exercises." It was rather likely that Sarge had probably been more than just a little curious about what the alien child's physical capabilities were.

Judging by the expression on his face as the hours waned, he was also using his observations to contemplate potential brainstorms for future ways to improve the course for Resistance training, or even for his own personal amusement.

Knowing Sarge, it was more than likely a combination of both that was mulling over in his mind. He didn't say too much when C.T. asked about any future building obstacle additions, though his question to her on whether or not she thought a "dive away and take cover from a sudden grenade toss" part near the end of the course would be somewhat over-the-top was a bit worrisome

The glimmer still in his brown eyes from his mental blueprint plans, he scratched his chin thoughtfully while motioning with his head towards Junior, "Ya think Tucker will let him train when he gets older?" Sarge asked in his gruff voice, "The potential sure as hell's there already."

C.T. frowned in thought, surprised that Sarge would even be considering potentially scouting an alien given the general stance most soldiers had on them due to the less-than-friendly relations between the two species whenever they had come into contact in the past.

The brunette supposed it was good he kept an open mind towards the prospect, all things considered.

"I honestly have no idea." She finally told him, "He probably hasn't even thought of anything like that yet."

The question made her wonder what Tucker generally thought of when thinking about his son's future. It was a difficult subject filled with concern and worry for most parents given what was happening in the world now, and Junior's situation was decidedly more complex than most other children's would be. Even things like education would be difficult. When Junior got older, what then? For all anyone knew, he was the only alien left alive on the planet. That was bound to make socializing or even having a regular life all the more challenging in a lot of ways.

She didn't envy Tucker the worry he probably had whenever he thought about it, especially knowing that anxiety would probably increase as Junior grew up.

She'd seen the two of them interacting together. It was obvious there was love and affection there. Tucker was already often putting on a brave face to keep the young boy from worrying about the fighting his father was involved in. It was admirable of him, to be sure.

Hopefully that would help both of them later on, when it would be even more necessary to think about what lay ahead.

"It'll probably be a few more years before he could, at any rate." Sarge said, almost sounding disappointed at the prospect of having to wait that long.

"Maybe the fighting won't be as much of an issue by then." C.T. stated quietly in response, though the woman knew it to be a rather foolish sentiment given how relations between the Slums and Above Ground had always been even before the recent conflict escalations.

Sarge was, naturally, more than willing to further point that out to the brunette.

"Please! That kind of talk is for hippies and their hand circles, not soldiers!" He scoffed, waving his hand through the air dismissively, "If we're not constantly fighting, someone's liable to grab us by the throats when we least expect it!"

In a way, she could understand that kind of logic, as morbidly and depressingly worded as it was. It made a sad, twisted sort of sense given the situation they were in.

She knew that even the same side in a conflict would sometimes screw over their own ranks in order to get the desired results. After all, C.T. had seen what had occurred within Freelancer personally. She also knew a little about what had caused Sarge to defect down to the Slums as well.

His viewpoints were understandable given what he had experienced.

"Still, as unrealistic as it might be," he interrupted her darker thoughts then, Sarge's voice oddly quiet as he spoke instead of having its usual booming weight to it: "I guess it would be nice for some of the folk down here to get some sort of respite from the fighting for a good, long while."

It was a surprising sentiment coming from a man who supposedly slept with his shotgun. Hard to say for certain if that was true or not since Grif was the one who started the rumor, but Sarge did seem to have a strong attachment to his weapon of choice all the same.

Still, she felt herself nodding her head in quiet agreement to the older soldier's statement.

"I'd still want soldiers on the alert at all times though." Sarge apparently felt the need to point out, lest C.T. thought he was becoming too soft-minded with his hypothetical wishful scenario talk, "There's a world of difference between being hopeful and downright suicidal."

One couldn't really argue with that logic, either.

The door to the large training area opened just then behind them, and a familiar figure in tan armor with blue trim stepped through it.

"Sarge, sir!" Smith came running up then, saluting both of them, "Agent Connecticut."

"You can just say C.T., Lieutenant." She told him politely, "It's shorter to say."

"Of course." The older lieutenant tried it out just then, "Agent C.T."

A bit of an improvement, at least, even if hearing the "agent" before her nickname was a bit odd to her.

It was odd to think of, but her name seemed to change depending on where she was in her life. "Connie" she always felt was a kid's name. "Agent Connecticut" was the Freelancer. The name "C.T." was the start of her disillusionment with the program and all of her subsequent decisions that followed.

Though, given Smith's tendency to want to use titles when addressing those he considered his superiors in terms of rank, it seemed "Agent C.T." would have to do for the moment.

"I take it you finished walking Caboose's killer robot?" The older soldier in red questioned Smith following their exchange.

While Junior had been running the obstacle course for the second time, the black-haired lieutenant had excused himself to take care of a personal mission he had been entrusted with. That was specifically ensuring that Freckles had his nightly walk as per Caboose's suggestion.

"Yes, sir!" Smith gave an affirmative nod, "He is resting now."

Sarge harrumphed and muttered under his breath, shaking his head in slight disapproval: "Darn thing gets more naps than Grif does. Caboose spoils him, if you ask me."

It was hard to envision an assault droid needing naps or subsequently being spoiled, but C.T. decided it was best not to mention that as doing so would probably lead inexplicably to a tangent on "fat, lazy good-for-nothings who wear orange" given the Grif mention earlier.

"Captain Caboose believes that proper rest should help to keep Freckles more alert, sir." Smith explained, "He always emphasizes the importance of rest and a good night's sleep."

"If Caboose says so. I guess here's to hoping all that shut eye keeps his aim great." Sarge still looked rather unconvinced as he shuddered, "Though if that were true then Grif would be the most alert person we'd have enlisted. Ain't that a scary thought?!"

Deciding it was best to perhaps steer the conversation away from Sarge's dislike of his subordinate, Smith changed topics quickly, "How did things go with Junior?"

"See for yourself." C.T. motioned to where the two still snoozing youngsters were.

"He went through the course like a seasoned pro three more times after you left before he finally tuckered out." Sarge stated, still sounding rather impressed over the achievement.

"He does have a lot of energy, and stamina too." The former Freelancer noted, "Jensen did her best at keeping up though."

It had brought a small nostalgic smile to her face, recalling how Jensen's earlier attempts to guide Junior through the trickier portions of the course vocally had ultimately resulted in the two of them racing through it together.

"All of you have a lot of fight." Sarge said, chest puffing up slightly with pride, "Even Dye Job. Makes me think there might be hope yet for the future of the Resistance."

"Thank you, sir!" Smith looked absolutely touched at the sentiment.

"'Course all the hope in the world won't mean squat if we don't train and prepare constantly to the point of absolute exhaustion both mentally and physically." The Red Team leader surmised, "I'll have to brainstorm some new exercises. Have a few ideas in mind already!"

The gleam in his dark eyes and the odd sort of chuckle that followed his last sentence made C.T. think back on his question about "grenade throwing" as a possible addition to the routine.

Suddenly, she felt slightly nervous at what else he could possibly be thinking of adding to what already appeared to be a rather intimidating training regimen.

On the other hand, Smith seemed positively excited at the prospect of future challenges. His blue eyes were shining eagerly just at the thought. She supposed that was to be expected though, given some of the training techniques he'd undergone already with Caboose.

The older lieutenant's views on leadership and unorthodox training regimens were quite different from the norm, it seemed.

"Thanks for the suggestion, Smith." C.T. told him in the lull of conversation that followed Sarge's announcement, "Junior really did enjoy himself."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, Agent C.T." He responded with a warm smile, "Sometimes children just need a constructive way to have fun and use up excess energy."

From the look in his eyes, it seemed that he had most likely drawn that up from personal experience. The almost nostalgic flicker across his face just then appeared to be both warm and sad all at the same time.

It was an expression she had seen on Smith's face more than once whenever he mentioned certain things that seemed to be connected to his past. The former Freelancer was almost tempted to ask about it, but once again decided not to.

"If there's ever a next time that I end up watching Junior for Tucker, I might just need your help again." C.T. chose to say instead, smiling wryly.

"Of course!" The momentary sadness faded completely from his features and Smith smiled widely in response.

C.T. was trying to come up with something else to say when an all-too familiar ping came from her armor. It was the noise used to inform someone of an incoming transmission, an advisory note that they might want to put their helmet on in order to receive it.

She saw Sarge stiffen slightly at the same time, and she knew that he must have also received the quiet noise signal from his armor. Her suspicions were confirmed when he put his helmet on seconds later.

She picked hers up from where she'd had it resting on the ground while she'd been watching Junior and Jensen at play. The moment the brunette's helmet sealed over her head a line of text began showing up directly before her dark eyes.

It was a message from Kimball, and a rather serious one at that. Her mouth went dry the further along she continued to read.

The pings had apparently only come from their armor, meaning the corresponding message was only going to certain people. It had been the secure method she and Tex had used to communicate with one another before back when C.T. was still with Freelancer, instead of using the more common radio frequencies.

Smith frowned while watching his two superiors, clearly knowing that something was going on given their sudden changes in demeanor but not sure what exactly it was. Since the lieutenant didn't know the protocol for such situations, and didn't want to interrupt them while their focus was elsewhere, he remained silent.

"Well, things sure went downhill even faster than I thought." Sarge spoke up in response a few seconds later, voice grim.

C.T. said nothing, finding the remark a major underestimate given the information they had just received. She gathered Sarge knew that well enough himself already given the tone of his voice just then and his still stiff posture.

If York was correct on what that object in 32-A the mercenaries were interested in was, then…

"Is something happening?" John Smith finally worked up the courage to ask them, looking between the two nervously.

"Yes, indeed, Lieutenant." Sarge's voice, surprisingly enough given the serious news they had just received and his earlier remark, now had an odd eagerness to it.

C.T. could almost picture him grinning under his helmet despite everything they just learned as he gleefully stated to the new recruit: "Looks like this whole fake diplomatic approach just got kicked in the ass!"

---

There were worse ways to wake up, Lavernius Tucker supposed.

Granted, at the moment, he was hard-pressed to really think of them. Not with Agent I-Am-Better-Than-You-At-Holding-Liquor-And-I-Don't-Put-My-Insanely-Large-Weapons-Cache-Away Washington bitching about something way too damn early for that kind of shit, while also having one really massive headache.

Both of which basically resulted in Tucker sitting upright on the bed with his head in his hands and groaning, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

This caused Washington to sputter and yell even more. The Freelancer's face was turning a shade of red in the process that Tucker usually only ever associated with either Sarge getting pissed off at Grif, or Lieutenant Matthews whenever the poor kid got embarrassed over something.

So, Washington was angry-embarrassed, then? What a fucking weird combination.

Currently, Tucker was more focused on just trying to get the searing pain from his migraine to go down. The blonde's yelling, along with the room kind of spinning too, wasn't really helping any.

On the plus side, at least it seemed like the Resistance fighter wasn't too queasy or anything. Though that was probably more due to having thrown everything up he'd had in his stomach awhile back.

Definitely never doing that again, especially since the night hadn't exactly ended like he had hoped (Bow-chicka-bow-wow!).

Not that spilling his guts to a relative stranger hadn't been all sorts of fun. Which was total fucking sarcasm, because it hadn't been.

Though, oddly enough, he didn't feel nearly as upset or annoyed about having told Washington all of that stuff as he thought he would be given how he usually never brought it up to people. Tucker assumed that was probably because the Above Grounder knew enough to not be a judgmental ass over it.

The puking, the hangover, and another grown man's freak-out however? Yeah, he could have lived without all of that.

Yet, here Tucker was, having slept in fucking Level One of all places.

There was an odd sense of cathartic release in that knowledge. The dark skinned man was kind of grateful in a way that Washington had inadvertently helped him get out a big old "Fuck you!" to the Council, even if it was just because the older man was probably being too "Freelancer stubborn" to admit he couldn't remember the way back to the bar.

None of those assholes would ever really know about it or care, but it was a symbolic victory all the same. Or some shit like that.

Though, not having his brain want to pound through his skull would probably make that knowledge sweeter.

"Seriously, just put your clothes back on!" He was finally able to make out Washington's getting-shriller-by-the-moment voice, "Tucker, please."

Tucker frowned, the words starting to actually gel in his mind. He glanced down at his bare (and fucking awesome if he did say so himself!) thigh, and then at the clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor near the bed.

Then he glanced up at Washington, who had started tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, darting his gray gaze to anywhere else but Tucker.

Yeah, the younger soldier assumed that the Above Grounder didn't realize that normally that kind of reaction would only make a person like Tucker want to do the exact fucking opposite of whatever he wanted them to do just to annoy him more.

Oh, well, at least that explained what had seemed to frustrate the Freelancer.

Tucker hadn't even realized that he had been that much out of it when he'd crashed earlier. He must have totally forgotten about his tendency to sleep naked.

Realizing that he'd stripped for bed in an acquaintance's hotel room, and that said acquaintance had seen everything caused Tucker's face to get increasingly warm.

It probably didn't help that whenever Washington did look his way, it seemed like it was with quick glances to Tucker's chest and legs that caused the Freelancer to become even more red-faced himself.

The Slums resident grinned sheepishly, figuring it was probably best for both of them to move things along quickly and get the whole situation into "No Big Deal" territory as soon as possible, "Sorry, man. Forgot I wasn't at my place of residence."

Teasing him again about Washington's earlier silly word phrasing seemed to help a bit, as the blonde rolled his eyes. It also gave Tucker the opportunity to stand up and grab his clothes, grimacing as he did so because fuck did his head hurt.

"You sleep naked?" The Above Grounder finally asked as Tucker started changing with his back to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker could see the Freelancer glancing over at his still bare back for a moment and quickly averting his gaze to a spot on the ground to keep the other man from seeing.

There was even an odd lilt in Washington's voice, though thankfully for him Tucker was a bit too hung over to really catch it and mock him for it.

"Usually." Tucker was pulling the shirt on over his head now, "Normally not for sleepovers though."

He was certain the sleepover remark had probably gotten an eye-roll at least, and Tucker grinned at the thought as Washington said sarcastically, "I can imagine not."

"But, I was so fucking plastered last night it probably didn't even cross my mind. Force of habit and all that." He shrugged, before stepping in front of the Freelancer to showcase that he was in fact fully clothed again and that the older man could stop having a panic attack like a big baby.

Washington relaxed visibly, though his cheeks were still red, "Yes, well, given how much you had to drink I suppose that was understandable."

Because he still looked horribly awkward over the whole thing, and it was rare to be the one recovering quicker as Washington tended to be a bit of a smug asshole whenever he bested Tucker at other things, the Resistance fighter smirked.

"Did you enjoy the view?"

His joking commentary caused Washington's face to get even redder. Tucker couldn't help but laugh, even if he had to stop two seconds later due to the pounding in his skull. Fuck that hurt!

"I am not even going to respond." Washington finally said lamely, turning away.

"Dude, that totally counted as a response!" The dark skinned man pointed out, adding: "Besides, it was kind of a valid question."

Washington looked about ready to argue that point even though his still pink-tinged face proved otherwise, when there was a knock on the door.

The two men glanced at each other. For a moment, Tucker wondered if he would have to crawl out a window or something. With his headache and from the eighth level, it would probably be tricky.

Not to mention weird as all shit given how he hadn't really done anything, beyond forgetting the when-drunk-don't-forget-to-keep-clothes-on rule Washington apparently had but didn't bother telling Tucker about until after he'd already broken it.

So, it was totally more Washington's fault anyways. If someone really wanted to think about it, that is.

"Wait here." The Freelancer told him curtly, heading to the door.

Tucker wanted to argue because it wasn't like the older man could boss him around, but the rational part of his mind told him not to. The younger man very rarely listened to that part of his brain in his daily life, but he knew when there were instances where it was probably better to do so. This most likely counted as one of them.

Washington had been not-that-big-of-a-jerk by letting him crash here and everything, and making a scene could get either him or the Resistance in trouble. Besides, with Tucker's head as it was, any sudden movements were going to be tricky.

Neither of them had expected to see a smiling Doctor Emily Grey on the other side of the door, looking for all the world as if she'd just had a full night's rest instead of having been out on the town.

"Hello, Agent Washington!" She peered past the bewildered man and her brown eyes landed on Tucker, "And Tucker too! Didn't expect to see you here."

There was something akin to a smirk in her voice at that last part, and even a knowing look on her face. The Resistance fighter felt his face flush slightly, and he pointedly decided not to glance over at Washington's raised eyebrow to see more of his reaction.

"Things came up. He let me crash here." Tucker mumbled.

"Of course he did." She made it very obvious she didn't buy that for a second, "Agent Washington is quite conscientious."

…Maybe he should lay off teasing Grif to his face about his domestic life for a little while, after this.

Thankfully, the Freelancer seemed totally oblivious to what Grey was really thinking happened between the two of them.

"Is there something you need, Doctor Grey?" Washington asked her, trying to sound courteous.

"Nope!" She grinned, "I just figured I'd come by and see how you were doing, given all of the alcohol intake last night."

The blonde shrugged, "I'm fine. More or less."

Of course he was, even with how much he had drunk. Asshole.

Tucker felt rather envious, though he also suspected that even if Washington was hung over he would probably be too fucking stubborn to admit it.

There was a slight grimace that would light the blonde's face every so often when he didn't think anyone was paying attention, which he would quickly school into his usual hard-ass expression mere moments later. It certainly seemed to indicate to Tucker that perhaps he was right about the Above Grounder being secretly hung over.

Washington frowned, looking over towards him, "Tucker, on the other hand—"

"Oh, fuck you, man." Tucker interrupted though he winced at the same time, slightly lessening the impact of his insult.

The fucker actually looked amused too, that smug slight smirk crossing over his lips again. Figures this was just what Washington needed to get over the whole embarrassment of seeing him naked. Tucker really couldn't catch a break here.

Grey at that moment pushed herself inside without waiting for an invitation, heading over to Tucker and handing him two green pills.

"This is great for hangovers." She explained, "I passed them out to everyone else after you'd left. I was going to give these to Washington, but since he obviously doesn't need them…"

She winked conspiratorially as she let her sentence trail off, and Tucker couldn't help but grin in response. Apparently the doctor had also caught on to Washington most likely just playing it cool about being hung over.

"Thanks." Tucker eagerly swallowed both of the pills then.

"You're welcome! Only half of the lab rats it was tested on developed seizures and died!" The dark-haired woman stated cheerfully.

Tucker groaned, noticing Washington smirking at him and promptly giving him the finger in response.

"But, the human trials have been more successful for the most part." She added.

"Maybe you should lead with that part first." He stated dryly.

"Aw, where's the fun in that?" The female Above Grounder grinned, and a slight chill ran through him.

Tucker made a mental note that he was never going to piss Doctor Emily Grey off.

As they were talking, Washington had moved over to a data pad that had been hidden behind some equipment on the opposite side of the room. He was now glancing at it, an odd look crossing over his face.

When the Freelancer turned around, an even darker than usual look had come over his features.

"Tucker, I think you should leave." Washington said briskly, adding in response to the confused looks the other two people in the room were giving him, "Now."

---

Well, he supposed there were worse ways to leave an impression beyond making a mess in someone's bathroom.

Granted, at the moment, Richard "Dick" Simmons was struggling to come up with one. Desperate as he was by this point, he was honestly considering simply shoving his head inside the Grif household's trash bin until he passed out due to embarrassment.

Well, almost. He wasn't that eager to die just yet.

After he had finally stopped drunkenly heaving and the room seemed to be spinning a whole lot less than it had before, the cyborg had come to the bleak realization that at some point he'd have to venture outside the bathroom and face what was no doubt going to be complete and utter mortification.

Alternatively, the redhead's flight instincts at first had come up with the brilliant idea of possibly just heading out through the bathroom window, but that was really only a stall tactic to delay the inevitable.

Also, due to the layout of the apartment there was no fucking window in the bathroom. Knowing his general luck besides, even if there had been one, the odds of it being somehow connected to a fire escape would have been slim at best.

Simmons spent what felt like several more hours locked in the bathroom instead, cursing both himself and nonexistent windows while he tried to work up the nerve to face what he'd done.

Granted, it wasn't the clearest of recollections. The Above Grounder had been pretty drunk at the time, though what he had just emptied into the toilet bowl was helping to clear his mind a bit.

The blurry images that came to mind were more than enough to make him want to vomit again if he still had anything left in his stomach. Or they made him consider just freaking never coming out of said bathroom.

Simmons would simply have to fill out a permanent change of address form just to make the whole thing official.

He had hugged Grif again.

Not only that, he was fairly certain he'd dragged the other man onto the couch. He had also actually cried about his insecurities over his cybernetics, and then he'd…

Thinking about what had happened (almost happened) following that nearly caused the cyborg to head for the toilet again.

What the hell had he been thinking?

It was bad enough that Church of all people seemed to know about his feelings for Grif. Oddly enough, thankfully, Church never really mocked him for them. Though his teammate seemed to be of the mindset it was just something they should never talk about either, which kind of suited Simmons just fine.

The Above Grounder had never intended to ever say anything about them to Grif, let alone act on them.

Now? Now he had probably just fucking ruined everything.

It was enough to make him curl into an even tighter ball on the bathroom floor, hugging his knees to his chest and fighting back a sudden urge to cry. That crying feeling was actually one of the reasons he was in this damn mess to begin with, and thinking about it that way made the desire all the more intense for some reason.

If Simmons still had his heart in his chest, he could imagine this would be one of those moments when it would be beating loudly in his ears. His face, both the organic and inorganic portions of it, was insufferably hot too.

The Above Grounder did not want to go back out there and face Grif's reaction to what had happened, nor the joking reactions his little sister and her friend would no doubt have to it either.

He was used to outright rejection in a lot of areas of his life growing up. It was especially par the course with who he had for a father. But, having to face it again in this instance was more painful and terrifying a thought than he could ever properly vocalize.

So, naturally, he didn't even respond for the longest time when someone knocked on the door to his less-than-fragrant-or-hygienic sanctuary.

"Simmons?" Grif's voice came through the locked barrier, sounding concerned no doubt on account of what Simmons had run in there to do earlier, "You okay?"

No, definitely not okay.

A part of Simmons was touched by the fact that his friend was still somewhat worried about him despite everything, but his fear and embarrassment overshadowed that reaction completely. The reminder Grif's voice gave him of what, and who, the redhead would have to face when he went out there again kept him rooted to his spot on the bathroom floor. His voice was completely out of commission.

Other voices whispered quite loudly on the other side of the door, no doubt debating on whether or not they should force it open from their side. Stealth experts, they were clearly not.

Given how he had been retching earlier, the redhead supposed he could understand the concern. They probably thought that his lack of response meant that maybe he had passed out and hit his head or something.

Eventually, Grif spoke up again after what sounded like a heated debate on the subject. Simmons only caught the tail end of the conversation that was not being muffled too much by the thick door, though it sounded like Kaikaina was responding with an obligatory "You suck!" to whatever her brother had said to her.

"Simmons, you need some time to yourself?"

Grif was giving him the chance to respond, but still have space to go through his panic moment alone. Simmons was grateful, really not wanting anyone to see him on the floor as he was just now.

That thought alone, along with practicing some of the surprisingly helpful breathing techniques Doc had taught him awhile back when he still had his lungs, eventually got him to the point where he could get out a shaky response at least.

Never mind that he didn't have lungs anymore. Going through the deep breathing motions still seemed to have a similar calming effect even as a cyborg.

"Y—yeah."

That was all Simmons could get out before he clammed up again. Fucking awesome. He had to choke back a sob over how pathetic he was.

The voices stopped being quite as audible, which perhaps indicated that they were no longer hovering on the other side of the door in order to give him more space.

If the Above Grounder was more with it and of the right state of mind to do so, he could probably discern exactly where they were now in the apartment thanks to his enhanced hearing. But, that was hard to do even with clear focus on the best of days.

It took what felt like quite a long time after that before Simmons was finally able to get himself standing upright. Seriously. Why did things always move so fucking slowly when you went through something mortifying, but speed by in a blur during better times?

Beyond a still very queasy feeling in his stomach that was, thankfully, not as bad now that he had emptied it of its contents, the Above Grounder also noted a slight spin to the world around him. Again though, not as bad as it had been when he had first ran into the bathroom.

He could also feel the starting signs of what was no doubt going to be a monumental headache later on. The slight pain he'd experienced at the club after taking Doctor Grey's medicine to help dull his cybernetic sensitivity to the loud and bright goings-on apparently had come back with a vengeance once the alcohol hit him full force. Because being a drunk idiot just wasn't enough apparently.

Still, all things considered, the redhead was in better shape than he had expected to be in at the moment.

He suspected that would change whenever the hangover hit him stronger, if he was recalling Doc's pamphlets and Doctor Grey's "intoxication file" correctly.

None of that was really the cyborg's largest concern though, as right now he was probably going to die of embarrassment anyways.

Naturally, Simmons spent a few more minutes once again cursing the architecture of the bathroom for its lack of windows before finally convincing his rubbery legs (odd sensation, given how both were comprised of varying degrees of metal and circuitry now) and reluctant brain that he had to just get things over with.

Tempting as it was at the moment, there were probably all sorts of logical reasons why it wasn't really all that feasible to permanently move into someone else's bathroom.

Simmons sometimes hated logic when it went against him.

Drawing in an unnecessary and shaky breath, the Above Grounder hit the lock on the bathroom door and stepped into the open doorway.

The messy apartment that greeted him was far less crowded now than when he had run full speed in embarrassment and urgent need out of it. The two girls were even thankfully nowhere in sight.

Unfortunately for the redhead, though, the person he had most been hoping to avoid on his way out had apparently been sitting in wait on that damn couch. The cyborg had remembered it fondly up until tonight, but now looking at the piece of furniture somehow made his face even warmer.

As soon as he'd heard the door open, the tan Slums resident had stood up and was now facing the Above Grounder.

Simmons froze then, not sure what to do. A part of him was honestly tempted to just try going back into the bathroom and closing the door. Another part was trying to calculate just how many seconds he would need in order to get to the apartment exit from where he was standing if he ran for it.

Grif wasn't exactly the fastest mover, so he could probably get past him if he bolted for it provided his head didn't spin any more than it was currently.

Perhaps Grif read what was going on in Simmons' mind from his contorting facial expressions as he pondered things, because the Resistance fighter smiled slightly in what almost seemed like a placating gesture.

"Feeling better?"

The question itself and his friend's demeanor threw Simmons completely off-guard.

He had expected the black-haired man to be either incredibly ticked off by what had happened, or extremely freaked out over it. The cyborg hadn't honestly expected Grif to be concerned about him in the slightest given what had happened.

He blinked, before getting out another hesitant, "Y—yeah."

"That's good." Grif grinned, "First time drinking that much, huh?"

"Er…" He could actually feel his blush deepen, and that sight seemed to be all the confirmation Grif needed.

"Yeah, that can happen when you aren't used to drinking." He said, voice still shockingly friendly and conversational in tone, "I don't think I even made it to the bathroom my first time."

Grif looked almost nostalgic then as he continued, "'Course, I was a shitload younger too."

Not really wanting to remember anymore of that particular highlight of the evening, and deciding the sudden urge to lecture Grif on underage drinking he had was pointless now given their ages and would no doubt just lead to him getting teased and called a "nerd" again, Simmons glanced to the closed door of Kaikaina's bedroom questioningly.

He really wasn't sure if he could take anymore surprise appearances by Grif's sister just yet without some prepping.

"Oh, Kai and her friend left already." The other man seemed well-versed at reading Simmons' body language currently, "Figured you would be more comfortable with coming out of there if there weren't as many people here."

The redhead swallowed, nodding appreciatively at the thought. Though for some reason that knowledge didn't really calm his nerves as much as he would have hoped.

At least, he supposed, he wasn't standing awkwardly in front of more people this way. Though doing so in front of only Grif of all people wasn't any easier. If anything, it made the fact that Simmons would have to say something about what had happened all the more apparent.

Which was going to be difficult, considering he couldn't even fucking move yet. Let alone get his voice to work properly.

The Above Grounder hated how anxious he got, how much he was dreading this whole thing.

Grif seemed like he was surprisingly at a loss for what to say at the moment too. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing at Simmons momentarily and looking away again quickly in the next second. All the while, his mouth was constantly opening and then shutting promptly afterwards.

Seeing that made Simmons feel rather guilty. After all, he hadn't meant for Grif of all people to get awkward around him on account of his actions.

Oddly enough, that seemed to be just the push the cyborg needed to finally start speaking.

"S—sorry." It was a mumbled apology, stated with a side-glance to the floor. But, at least it was something, damn it.

Hearing the apology, Grif paused in his own awkwardness. He turned to look Simmons in the face finally, the action causing Simmons' face to become even hotter.

"Hey. It's okay, Simmons." He said it quietly and even smiled again, almost as if Grif was afraid that saying anything too harshly or loud would cause the cyborg to bolt into the bathroom again, "Like I said, that happens to everyone."

So, it seemed that the Resistance fighter thought Simmons was only referring to the whole bathroom episode.

The paler man frowned. He wasn't sure if his elaborating on what he'd actually meant most of the apology towards was a good idea, but he felt like he should all the same, "N—no. I mean, yeah, I'm sorry about that too, but w—what I did—"

He was rambling and probably not making any sense whatsoever. Jumbled flashbacks of before came flooding back into the Above Grounder's brain as he spoke, suddenly causing his voice to give out.

Simmons shut up completely then, finding himself suddenly staring at the floor. He was pretty shocked he hadn't gotten overheated messages in his artificial eye, or any warning beeps about that from certain points of his body given how hot his face and the rest of him felt just then.

He desperately wanted to just disappear into the ground then and there.

"S—sorry." Simmons ended up lamely finishing with.

There was a lengthy, uncomfortable silence following that. The redhead wondered if it was due to Grif inwardly debating his reaction at having been reminded about earlier.

Would the Slums resident yell? Throw Simmons out? Say he never wanted to see him again, or that he'd be glad to shoot him next time they met?

Those last two thoughts in particular were enough to make Simmons want to vomit again, or possibly cry. Most likely a combination of both.

"Don't worry about it."

The quiet tone it was said in caused him to look at Grif in surprise.

Oddly enough, it was Grif who broke the eye contact seconds afterwards. Simmons could almost swear there was a darkening shade of color on the tan man's rounder cheeks as he did so too.

"You were drunk, you know?" His friend said weakly, shrugging in his usual manner though it appeared more forced this time, "People do weird things they normally don't when they've had a few."

He smiled self-deprecatingly then, "Just ask me or Kai."

Simmons' eyes widened, taken aback by how nonchalant Grif was trying to act, "B—but—!"

Grif's smile widened somewhat, the red on his cheeks still there as he made eye contact once more with the taller man, "You just happen to get touchy-feely with your friends when plastered. It's no big deal."

He took on a slightly serious look following that, "I won't tell anyone, Simmons. I'll make sure Kai and her friend don't either, so don't worry about it."

So, somehow, his near confession and hug had been completely misinterpreted by Grif? Not for what it had actually been, but as him just becoming even more emotional than usual?

Simmons tried wrapping his head around it.

On one hand, it was great.

Grif was inadvertently giving him a way out of a situation that could have easily screwed up a relationship that meant more to him than he'd ever probably be able to openly admit unless, apparently, completely drunk out of his gourd.

On the other hand, though?

The cyborg realized Grif was still waiting for a response. He smiled weakly, embarrassment still obvious on his features, "Th—thanks, Grif."

"Just tell me you managed to get most of it in the toilet and we'll call it even." Grif joked in response, "Vomit is fucking gross to clean up."

"O—of course I did!" The redhead bristled, though he smiled a little more genuinely knowing this was the Resistance fighter's way of trying to get him past the awkwardness they had just gone through, "Though you're one to talk about cleaning anything up given how this place looks."

"Hey, you don't see any throw up anywhere, do you?" His friend sniffed in mock indignation, "Even I have standards, Simmons."

"Glad to see you've set the bar so high."

On the other hand, even as they thankfully seemed to fall back into their usual back-and-forth banter as if nothing had happened, Simmons couldn't help but also feel rather disappointed.

---

Simmons ended up leaving the apartment shortly after that, suddenly not quite sure that he felt up to spending the night there.

Too much embarrassment had happened. Plus, the thought of what he had almost inadvertently done still lingered in the air and in his mind, along with the odd sense of disappointment he'd felt over the fact that nothing had actually come from it.

Don't get him wrong: Simmons was more than just a little relieved that he hadn't royally fucked up his friendship with Grif. But, it was strange: the fact that the other man didn't really seem to understand what had nearly happened was strangely upsetting to the Above Grounder too.

Even with his own fuzzy memory of what had transpired, Simmons thought it had been fairly obvious.

Lazy fuck as he could be, Grif had been reluctant to allow Simmons to walk out on his own after what had happened. It had taken quite a bit of convincing on the cyborg's part that his recent purge had helped clear Simmons' mind considerably, along with a questionable "sobriety test" of the Resistance fighter's own design for him to finally agree to it.

Simmons was fairly certain that the whole sobriety test thing at least had just been a way for Grif to make fun of him. The fat-ass.

Even after all of that, Grif had still insisted on tagging along with him at least until the final transport that would take the redhead back to Level One since he "might as well head back to base, I guess."

It may have been a while since the Above Grounder had been in the Slums proper, but Simmons still remembered enough about how the transport systems worked that Grif's seemingly understandable concern for a less-than-sober friend was still rather annoying. They'd ridden the transport systems quite a lot when he had helped Grif with his errand business, after all.

The cyborg was only able to stew quietly for a few moments though before a teasing comment from Grif had him turning red all over again and quickly sputtering "Dumbass!" in response.

Parting with a hurried "See you." as Simmons rushed to get on the transport to Level One had felt tremendously strange given how most of their recent comings and goings had been.

True, the peace talks were still ongoing, so they would most likely see each other again. But, Simmons had found himself having to resist the urge to turn around and tell Grif he had changed his mind about heading back to the hotel.

It was probably more due to how he hadn't really wanted tonight to end as it had, the cyborg supposed. Even thinking about it now still caused his face to become heated.

Truthfully, the last person in the world he had been expecting to see waiting for him in the docking area of the transport when he arrived at Level One, save maybe someone completely out there like his father or Captain Flowers somehow back from the dead, was one Kaikaina Grif.

He paused upon seeing her standing there, surprised at the sight of the young woman in her yellow armor once more with helmet tucked neatly under her arm.

"K—Kaikaina?" The Above Grounder sputtered, also remembering what she'd walked in on earlier and wondering if maybe making a run for it past her was a feasible option.

"Hey, shy guy!" She waved her free hand in the air upon seeing him, grinning, "Figured you'd show up sooner or later."

"What are you doing here?" He trudged over to her, frowning somewhat at her attire, "And in your armor?"

"Oh, the crazy old guy who is training us put all of the lieutenants on standby here." She scrunched her nose up as if the idea was extremely distasteful, "It's so boring though!"

"Shouldn't you be on patrol then?" Simmons could almost imagine that the red-armored Sarge's exasperation with the girl was possibly to a degree well-founded.

"Technically I have ten more minutes before my shift officially starts or something. I wasn't really paying attention all that much after they said I could have a break." She shrugged indifferently, "So, I wanted to wait for you."

"Oh." The redhead paused then, oddly touched by the gesture, "Thanks."

Kaikaina regarded him closely, causing him to shift awkwardly where he was standing.

"This doesn't really look like any walk of shame I've seen." She finally announced, "Trust me, I've seen plenty!"

He spluttered at her comment, fairly certain his face was going to burst into flames right then and there.

"So, you and my brother haven't done anything yet?" The younger Grif sounded oddly disappointed at having to ask the question at all.

"What? No, Kaikaina…we aren't, I mean—"

While he was busy hyperventilating at her question, the Slums resident took his arm and led him over to a nearby bench. In a way, the action seemed like a bizarre reversal of what had happened when they first met all those years ago.

"You like him, right?" Kaikaina asked without preamble, sitting next to him.

He'd almost been tempted to deny it, but given how her expression seemed to say she already knew the answer he nodded mutely instead.

Kaikaina looked oddly thoughtful, "Well, maybe it's a good thing that he didn't really get what was going on."

That gave the Above Grounder pause, and his hands momentarily clamped down onto the bottom of the metal bench. He was fairly certain it would have handprints afterwards whenever he was finally able to work up the nerve to stop gripping it like a lifeline.

The three of them had actually talked about it while he had been locked in the bathroom having his freak out? He knew the odds had been good given what the two girls had walked in on, but hearing it said so blatantly was something quite different altogether.

The urge to bolt again was getting harder and harder to ignore the more this conversation continued.

The tan girl sitting next to him now though didn't seem to really notice Simmons' obvious discomfort, staring as she was at the area around them and nodding in that same pseudo-sage way that he was so used to Grif doing whenever the Resistance fighter was saying something ridiculous but was acting as though it was vastly profound.

"If you think about it, drunken displays of emotion can lead to a fun time but they're hardly great ways to start a relationship." She grinned then, "Believe me, I can tell you all about that too!"

The paler man nodded his head, desperate to just get her off this subject entirely, "Yeah, yeah…" Simmons muttered, then moments later the last part of what Kaikaina had just said sunk into his still slightly sluggish brain, "Wait, what?!"

She winked conspiratorially, "Yeah some of those stories are real fun." She then stage-whispered, "Those are the kinds of nights where after it's all over you have no idea where your underwear is or where you are."

"Um…"

Okay. Simmons was actually fairly certain his brain was going to explode at this rate.

Kaikaina continued on with the conversation as if what she had said was no big deal whatsoever. Given how she often described her evenings and what she liked doing in her free time, it was likely that was probably a pretty good assessment.

"But, see what I mean?" She asked him, "I never got any of those people's names or anything afterwards."

Well, the cyborg could actually sort of see the point she was trying to get at there. Just barely though, as it didn't seem like it had too much to do with Grif and him beyond apparently her having been rather drunk.

Given their continued friendship despite everything, they were hardly strangers or acquaintances that nearly had a one night stand.

Simmons supposed it was nice that Kaikaina was trying to be comforting instead of teasing as he'd expected her to be, even if he still couldn't quite wrap his thoughts around what her true point was. Oddly touching in a way, if one thought about it.

"So, maybe having things go down that way would have been worse in the long run." She concluded, looking over at Simmons with barely concealed amusement in her brown eyes, "Especially with the whole puking thing."

The cyborg's face heated up again in embarrassment at the reminder as to how that whole episode had ended, and he looked down at the ground. The slight cracks here and there in the material were rather fascinating from this angle.

But, he knew that Kaikaina was waiting for him to say something in response, and delaying it due to a sudden interest in abstract symbolism in everyday objects wasn't probably going to do him any favors in the long run. Simmons sighed.

"It doesn't really matter anyway." He finally managed to mumble out, shoulders slumping slightly.

Because she had brought up the subject in the first place, not to mention that the whole conversation was bizarre to begin with, and he was still a little bit tipsy and needed to vent more than normal, he added: "I don't think he's interested. He didn't even realize what had happened."

Which, well, it must have been pretty obvious if Kaikaina could tell and she'd only seen them for a few seconds, right? Somehow, that realization was only serving to make him feel worse about everything now.

The black-haired girl frowned, looking up at the darkened rafters far above their heads.

Simmons continued looking at the ground, wondering what would be the politest way to just tell her that he should probably get back to the hotel and that it might be a good idea for Kaikaina to head to wherever she needed to be besides. It wouldn't do for her to get in trouble at his expense, after all.

"You know about how Dex took care of me after our mom left?" She finally asked, eyes still glued to the rafters and cavern ceiling.

The redhead started, definitely having not expected that question at all in response to what they'd just been talking about. This conversation seemed to be going in all sorts of unexpected directions.

Kaikaina turned her head to regard him then, a knowing smirk forming across her face as she stated bluntly: "'Course you do. I remember him telling you about it when you were crashing on our couch that one time. You guys didn't know I was eavesdropping."

"Er…" Simmons didn't know what to say, his brain thinking back now on the myriad possible ways he probably mortified his teenage self since he hadn't realized the outspoken fourteen-year-old girl he'd met back then had apparently been something of a ninja.

She didn't miss a step though as she continued, "Anyways, I don't remember too much about the really early time following that."

The young woman frowned slightly, an uncharacteristically haunted look crossing over her features just then, "Only that I was sad and scared, and I probably cried a lot."

"Kaikaina…" The Above Grounder began, trying to think of something to say and failing miserably.

How did one respond to hearing something like that? After all, he remembered for a time being at a loss for words when Grif had spoken about it too.

"But, Dex was really brave!" The tan girl smiled again at that particular recollection, "He was sad and scared too. I remember him being angrier then too, but he always tried to make me laugh and not be so scared. He did a lot of things just to make sure I was okay."

"He's a good brother." Simmons was finally able to get something out, at least.

She nodded, "A part of me…" Kaikaina paused and frowned slightly, looking ashamed, "Always felt guilty about that though."

Simmons frowned, once again not sure of what to say in light of that kind of personal revelation. The serious and sad expression on Kaikaina's face was rather strange to see too, given the insane amount of confidence the younger woman usually carried herself with.

"Grif had to do and worry about a lot of things, just to take care of me. Things kids shouldn't have to deal with." She stated finally after seeming to collect her thoughts on what she wanted to say next, "I was always a handful too."

She looked regretful, and her body sagged in a defeated fashion, "He even joined the fucking army because of me!"

"Th—that's why you joined later too, right?" The redhead asked quietly, "To somehow make it up to him?"

A nod, and Kaikaina almost looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any second. Which really wasn't helping Simmons hold back the sudden wet blurriness forming in his human eye any.

"He's my dumbass big brother. I don't want him getting hurt."

It was a touching sentiment to be sure, delivered in true Kaikaina Grif fashion. Though Simmons still wasn't sure exactly how they'd gotten onto this subject in the first place.

The Above Grounder sat there awkwardly, never sure about the correct protocol for situations like this. It didn't help that he was also suddenly remembering how he had been unsure of what to do after Kaikaina had gotten injured by those assholes who had followed him down here to "slum," back when he'd first met her years ago.

The younger Grif seemed to shake herself out of it seconds later, regarding Simmons with an odd look following that, "I think that's part of the problem now, with you two."

"C—come again?" The Above Grounder hated how that came out as a squeak, caught off-guard as he was by her cutting to the chase just like that.

Kaikaina sighed, "Dex was so focused on trying to take care of me when we were growing up. I think it kind of made him oblivious to a lot of things."

When Simmons didn't respond and just stared at her with a blank look, she elaborated, "Sure, he likes being lazy and eating, and both him and Tucker talk about porn a lot."

Kaikaina ignored how quickly that last remark made his face turn tomato red, "But, he doesn't seem that interested in emotional stuff at all." She frowned again, "I'm not sure he's ever thought of liking someone before, or of them liking him outside of the friend zone."

While Simmons was trying to think of some way to respond intelligibly, she blurted out, "So, I don't think it's a case of him not being interested. It's more like he's so dense he can't tell."

"I—I'm not sure—" Simmons began, shaking his head.

Kaikaina cut him off before he could continue: "You don't see all the blushing he does when we make fun of him for it. I don't even think he knows he does it."

The cyborg sighed, realizing that there was no way he could ever probably convince the girl that she was wrong on this subject and figured it was best to change tact then, "W—why are you telling me this?"

"I think you're probably the only person he could ever figure that out with." She looked to the rafters again, a thoughtful look on her face, "Even when the two of you first met, there was…something. It's why I tease him about it so much."

She shrugged, "I don't know, he's never had that kind of immediate connection with anyone else before. With Tucker, it took months for them to even tolerate each other when we became neighbors. He's never connected with girls that way either." She made a face, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I just think it's going to be one of those annoying things where it takes time or some shit because he isn't used to it at all." Kaikaina concluded, turning towards Simmons again and grabbing his hands tightly just when he'd finally gotten them to let go of the bench too, "So, don't get discouraged, gray guy! You've waited this long already!"

It was both touching and horribly embarrassing to be talking about this with Grif's little sister, especially when she used her odd nickname for him. It always took him a second to remember that she was colorblind.

Simmons gulped nervously, "Wh—why are you so eager to help, Kaikaina?" He was proud of himself that he was actually able to vocalize anything so quickly after she'd finished her statement, "It's better if I don't say anything, even if that is true."

Which he personally doubted that it was due to his own self-confidence issues more than anything else, and he suspected the girl probably just was wishful thinking and misinterpreting things as a result, "Given the situation between here and Above Ground, and—"

She scoffed at him, looking unconcerned, "You never know what will happen later." She said, taking on that "wise guru" approach once more, "Best to live in the moment and all that other crap."

Simmons frowned, knowing what she was saying to be over-simplification at its finest.

"Besides, I love my brother and I want the fat idiot to be happy." The younger girl smiled, "I like you too, regardless of where you're from!"

"Kaikaina…" Shit, he really was probably going to cry any second now. The cyborg did his best to cover up a sniffle in response to the surprising sentiment.

"Plus, when you guys finally get together, Tucker said he'd help me throw a kickass party to celebrate!" Kai informed him happily, "I've picked the booze and strippers already!"

Leave it to Grif's little sister to kill the moment just like that. But, as he spluttered in embarrassment over her last remark and the idea that Grif's friend Tucker also apparently thought of his feelings as being that obvious despite the two of them having not interacted as much as Simmons and Kaikaina had, there was a knowing look in her dark eyes.

Simmons began to suspect that she had actually said that on purpose for his sake in order to keep him from blubbering then and there.

"Thanks." The cyborg told her, feeling more hopeful now than he had before.

"No problem. I meant it too!" She grinned widely, though a grimace crossed over her face seconds later, "Oh, shit! It's way past ten minutes, huh?"

"Quite a bit past, actually." Simmons knew he should probably be heading back to the hotel himself as well now that he was on Level One instead of monkeying about.

"Fuck, guess I'll see you around then!" The younger Grif bolted up then, "All three of us should totally hang out next time you're free, like old times!"

He nodded quietly in response, not really wanting to say it would all depend on what happened in the future and whether or not the Grif siblings would have free time too. The prospect sounded like an enjoyable one, and he was actually rather glad that the girl and her brother even seemed to want to spend time with him still given how long it had been since they'd first met and everything.

Kaikaina put her helmet on, giving him one final wave goodbye before bounding from the docking area in a yellow blur.

He didn't feel quite like getting up just yet despite his earlier thoughts to the contrary, largely due to the fact that the world was back to spinning a little bit. He had a feeling that any sudden movements on his end would probably only make that worse. Best to just wait a few more minutes until it subsided as he really didn't want to get sick in a public place, after all—even if there weren't as many people around at this time to witness it, that would still be horribly embarrassing.

Besides, it gave him some time to process what had just occurred. Something that his brain desperately wanted to do.

Simmons had no idea if what Kaikaina had said was remotely true. He certainly had his doubts, and the massive lack of self-esteem he had in that department in particular wasn't exactly helping anything.

But, in a way, the conversation had helped him perhaps understand a bit more about his friend than he had before. It also gave the Above Grounder a bit more perspective when it came to Grif's mindset on things of that nature, at least. What Kaikaina said certainly made a plausible kind of sense, given their pasts and how quickly Grif had to grow up in most areas of his life as a result.

He didn't think there was any real chance of Grif actually reciprocating anything. Too many obstacles to that really, and Simmons doubted he'd ever even say anything to him again about it since the only reason he'd really done it this time was due to having drunk so much. But, the conversation with Kaikaina had certainly helped to improve his mood a bit.

And who knew? Perhaps the situation between the Slums and Above Ground would improve soon and he could, at the very least, see his friends more and on less nerve-wracking terms overall.

That was all Simmons could really hope for at this point.

---

There were a lot of things Dexter Grif wished had gone differently that night.

For starters, he would have definitely drunken more from the get-go. He'd barely had a buzz by the time they had left the party, and being one of the only people in a group not plastered out of your mind wasn't exactly the greatest.

Though the "being with it" enough later on to remember how much you could mock your friends was a future perk. He had a feeling he would be having a fun "payback" blast of it with Tucker in particular later, given all of the teasing and jokes his friend tended to have at his expense.

Not to mention that there were probably all sorts of things he would have changed in regards to the entire Simmons situation that night.

The casual joking about that "one time" when the Above Grounder was clearly all sorts of wasted and flustered being the biggest one, followed probably by changing the lock on the apartment door because his little sister never was one to believe in knocking first.

It was bad enough that the poor guy had been that upset still over having potentially hurt a friend in the past during what had been just a really fucked up situation in general, but getting interrupted during an emotional freak-out and getting teased for it even before having to rush into the bathroom?

It was almost enough to have even Grif feeling more sympathetic-than-mocking later.

Although thinking back on it, Grif's own embarrassment over what had happened and the odd sense of confusion over his own reaction, as well as his frustration at Kai being more than just his usual annoyance at her barging in and joking tendencies for reasons he really wasn't quite sure of himself?

Well, maybe those were signs that he was drunker than he originally thought or something.

He was almost tempted to go through one of Donut's pamphlets just to see what the signs were, but that would mean actively searching for one that he hadn't already crumpled into a ball and threw at someone's head just to see what would happen.

Which, really, was way more effort than he cared to exert when it came to learning something.

In all honesty, it had actually been harder than normal to try to play the whole thing off with Simmons as "no big deal" to his smirking little sister and her curious-but-not-sure-she-wanted-to-be-there-any-longer friend.

So, Grif tried doing what he hoped was the best thing for that situation. It was hard to say if it really was or not, he'd never really had to deal with anything like this before, thankfully.

When he had dealt with Tucker or Kai drunk, they usually tended to fall into the either amusingly or annoyingly "Loud Drunk" category depending on his own personal mood at the time.

The Slums resident tried checking to make sure that Simmons was okay, because, seriously it had not sounded fun or pleasant from outside the bathroom. Besides, given Simmons' tendency towards panic the odds of him hyperventilating and passing out on the bathroom floor or in the toilet were actually fairly high.

Grif had almost, almost been tempted to override the lock when he hadn't gotten an initial response from the redhead. Waiting for one had been quite stressful, actually.

The two lieutenants were of the mind that it might be necessary, with Volleyball muttering how it was a shame that Jensen wasn't there because she could disable the lock in no time flat. But, he'd held back just because he knew doing so if Simmons was in the process of collecting himself would just make things worse in the long run.

He was more than just a little relieved when Simmons had finally responded to his questioning.

Following that, the second order of business was hurrying his sister and Volleyball out of the apartment as soon as he could.

Whenever Simmons finally came out of the bathroom, he suspected seeing the two of them would probably cause him to run right back in there and the whole process would start all over again. Unless the Above Grounder just moved into the bathroom permanently. Which, let's face it, Grif suspected his maroon-wearing friend was probably very much so unrealistically debating in his head right about now.

Volleyball was more than ready to leave, looking rather apologetic now for the interruption. Though what she thought they had interrupted she didn't say, and Grif wasn't sure he wanted to know given how she would often glance at him with slightly red-tinged cheeks before awkwardly coughing and glancing away.

The mumbling about the bet the two of them had been having with Jensen certainly didn't help assuage his fears about what she was thinking either.

Kai took a bit more convincing, going into her room to collect whatever it was she had needed with her customary "Fine, I'm going! You suck!" routine.

He never did figure out what she had come to the apartment for, actually. She had it in a bag and stated "None of your business!" when he asked while sticking her tongue out at him.

As long as it wasn't her vibrator that she was planning to use for some kind of prank again, he supposed it was fine.

Then they argued over the crummy lock for a few minutes ("I had it fixed, Dex! You probably just broke it!"). Then Kai got in one last pseudo teasing remark about how he and Simmons should treat each other nice after all of this before winking and waving at his flustered reaction and upraised finger before the apartment door finally closed behind her.

While he knew she had been joking and her commentary was more about the whole "married" thing she and Tucker always teased him with, Grif did debate a lot more than he cared to admit about how to react to the situation. Especially given how Simmons might view what had happened.

So, he ultimately decided it was probably for the best to play it up as if nothing had really happened for both of their sakes.

Simmons had been drunk and stressed. The cyborg probably didn't even realize what he had done, or even meant it in any way at all for what it could be misinterpreted as. Reminding the redhead too much about it could possibly just upset him all over again and Grif really didn't want to do that.

As for Grif's reactions to what had happened? Well, it was probably best not to think too much on it. Bad time for his back to fucking tingle at where Simmons' hand had been under his shirt. Fucking brain.

Given that Simmons hadn't meant it and there was more than enough hurdles to their continuing friendship already, the Resistance fighter didn't want to say or do anything to make things worse.

Better that way in the long run. Everything else was just a reaction to too much drink and a rather emotional outburst from a friend.

The tan man ignored the fact that a part of him seemed rather disappointed by his own decision.

But, that had pretty much been the end of it. Grif had played it off like the whole thing had been nothing. Simmons had either believed him, or chose to go along with the act as a way to lessen his obvious embarrassment.

Given what had happened, though, the Slums resident supposed it wasn't too shocking that in the end Simmons had wanted to go back to Level One.

The redhead seemed extremely dejected and nervous over the whole thing, so he probably just wanted to be as far away from where everything went down. Understandable, really.

Though Grif was a little upset over the decision in a way given that they didn't really know when the next time they could see each other again like this would be. Yeah, it hadn't exactly been the greatest night by the end, but they had been able to hang out in a more peaceful setting.

That had to have counted for something, right?

To his credit, Simmons was sober enough after having emptied the contents of his stomach that the cyborg seemed in reasonably decent shape enough to probably get back to Level One on his own. In fact, his friend was quite annoyed by any argument otherwise.

He went into his famously stubborn mode when Grif had suggested coming with him, no doubt wanting to get away from Grif simply due to what had occurred in the apartment. The chubbier man was probably a reminder of all of that embarrassment and puking the redhead had just gone through.

The Resistance fighter was only able to get Simmons to agree to let him go with the cyborg up until the transport that took people to Level One, and that was more due to a slight fib on Grif's part that doing so was the easiest way to get back to the Resistance base.

It wasn't, not really. It was far easier to get to the tunnels where the Resistance base was now located from the mid-levels of the Slums, but, well, he figured Simmons didn't need to know that.

Plus, thinking that Grif was going on the transports for another reason beyond babysitting him lessened Simmons' "I can take care of myself!" argument. In so doing, it helped to lessen some of Grif's concern over letting his still somewhat drunk friend-from-really-out-of-town head back on his own if the tan man could go most of the way with him.

The "sobriety test" he made Simmons do still was all sorts of hilarious though. Of course, Simmons saw through the "Do The Robot" part when Grif couldn't help snickering, and then he just had to ask what the actual scientific merit was of said test. Which in turn had Grif outright laughing and Simmons turning red in the face, muttering an angry expletive under his breath.

It was really fun messing with the nerd sometimes. Grif was definitely going to miss that after he left.

So, at least they had fallen back into their usual routine more or less before calling it a night, which was something to be grateful for given how potentially awkward it could have been instead.

There was still a bit of that awkwardness lingering too, but it was so below the surface that Grif could almost ignore it completely. He put on a good show of doing so for his friend's sake.

They had parted ways at the transport to Level One and, yeah, Grif couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight of Simmons trying to run to catch it because funny is funny! It helped alleviate the weird sense of sadness he got at saying goodbye this time despite knowing they'd probably see one another again soon due to the fake peace talks.

Afterwards, Grif ended up making his way inexplicably back towards the tunnels and the Resistance base. More than likely simply because he didn't really have any need or desire to go back to his apartment given everything. Besides, there was bound to be some kind of food left in the mess hall.

Not to mention, doing so also meant he hadn't been completely lying to Simmons either. Even if getting there from the higher Slums levels was a bit more work than the Resistance fighter usually liked to do.

Grif had not expected that the first person he would run into when he got back to base would be a rather disconcerted-looking C.T. with Tucker's kid in tow.

The former Freelancer walked over to him, a frown on her face as she took in his appearance. He was dressed in his civilian clothes still, while she was fully decked out in her armor save her helmet, "I take it you haven't heard the news yet?"

The way she asked the question and her expression in general caused the Slums resident's stomach to drop, "Something happened?"

Of course it did. Couldn't even go a fucking night before things got worse.

"Looks that way." C.T. motioned with her head down an all-too familiar tunnel, "Kimball's calling a meeting."

On second thought, it was probably a good thing he wasn't too buzzed just then. Though the Resistance fighter might change his mind on that depending on what exactly was going on.

"Any sign of Tucker and the others yet?" Grif asked, though he knew the answer to the Tucker part of that question was pretty obvious given how the brunette was still babysitting Junior.

"Donut, Lopez, and Caboose arrived just a little while ago." She glanced down at Junior and the child gripped her gloved hand tightly. He was a smart kid and he understood human language perfectly despite not being able to speak it.

No doubt he knew well enough something was up and it was making him rather nervous as the former Freelancer went on, "As for Tucker—"

"Dude, you guys better not be saying anything bad about me in front of my kid!"

"Blargh!"

Junior perked up at the sound of his father's voice. When he appeared around the curve of the corridor they were in, the miniature alien pulled away from C.T. to run over to him.

Unlike Grif, it looked as though Tucker had retrieved his armor before heading further inside the base. He was back in his familiar teal coloring, matched by his son's armor as well.

"Hey, kiddo! You're looking well." His friend beamed down at Junior, picking him up when the boy reached him.

"Blargh!" Junior shouted in affirmation, seeming rather happy to see Tucker again.

Tucker turned to glance at C.T., nodding slightly, "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

She gave a return nod, "You're welcome, though I had some help too."

"Oh?" The dark skinned man raised an eyebrow curiously at that.

"Jensen, Smith, and Sarge might charge you babysitting fees later." The brunette joked, a smile briefly crossing over her face.

Smith and Jensen, he could understand. But, Sarge? There was no way hearing his name in a sentence reference "babysitting" wasn't strange as all fuck.

Grif wondered if this was a case of someone needing to be there to actually believe it and, even then, you'd probably have to do some double-takes and wonder what the hell you were smoking beforehand. Judging by the bewildered expression crossing over Tucker's face, he assumed his friend was thinking along similar lines too.

"The weirdest shit happens when I'm not here, huh?" Tucker joked in an aside to his son, the child nodding his head with what appeared to be the alien equivalent of a grin across his face.

"You look better than I thought you would, given how you left." Grif remarked jokingly to Tucker.

He meant it too. Grif had expected by this point for the teal-armored man to be well worse for wear given how much he'd had to drink at the Randy Offering. Beyond a slight grimace when not directly focused on Junior, to whom he managed to put on a pretty good show of appearing fine and being all smiles so as to not worry him, Tucker wasn't nearly as incapacitated as Grif was expecting him to be.

"Huh?" For some odd reason, he could have sworn a blush darkened Tucker's cheeks at Grif's remark momentarily before he bounced back, "Oh! That crazy doctor chick who was at the party?"

Tucker waited until his friend nodded that he remembered who he was talking about. But, seriously, how could someone forget that Above Ground doctor? She'd scared pretty much everyone at the bar at one point even while wearing a disconcertingly pleasant smile, "Well, she gave me something she said was pretty good for hangovers. It actually worked better than I thought it would."

"So, you were going to go right back to duty then?" Tucker's female teammate sounded rather impressed.

Tucker made a "Pshaw!" sound, "Nah, I was just planning on coming back here to see how Junior was doing and take him off your hands." He frowned then, "But someone said I should head back and be prepared for some shit. That things had changed."

"That Washington guy you left with?" Grif asked, frowning as well.

How would he have known what was apparently going on down here in the first place when the other Above Grounders they'd interacted with had seemed genuinely clueless? And why would he warn Tucker about it besides?

Grif noticed C.T. stiffen slightly at the name, her brown eyes looking questioningly over to Tucker. The Slums resident supposed it made sense that the newest member of Blue Team would know of Washington though given that he was a Freelancer and everything.

The two exchanged an odd, secretive "Blue Team Only" sort of look, but neither of them apparently saw the point in filling the outsider in on what it was all about. Which meant he would have to badger Tucker later about it if he decided it was really something worth knowing. Honestly, that really did kind of just depend on Grif's general care level at any given moment.

"Yeah, that guy." Was all Tucker felt like saying in response to Grif's question, though from the frown deepening on his face it seemed as if perhaps he was wondering something similar to what Grif had been thinking himself.

"Blargh?" Junior tilted his head slightly to the side in his father's arms, watching the exchange with a curious gaze.

Instead of furthering his response, Tucker smirked at Grif, "What about you, huh, fat-ass?" He joked instead, "Finally get somewhere on the conjugal visit?"

Of course, the teasing remark caused all of the memories from earlier that night to come flooding back to Grif and his face immediately become a whole lot warmer than it had been before.

He was about to go tell Tucker to fuck off when C.T. cleared her throat. She had apparently decided it was time to let the seriousness of whatever was going on outweigh the amusement she was clearly also getting from the friends' exchange, if the twinkle that had momentarily sparked in her eyes just before she schooled her expression into a more urgent one was any indication.

"You two can catch up later. Grif, you need to get changed into your armor." The former Freelancer reminded him, "The meeting is going to happen any minute now."

---

It was easy enough to figure out where to stand in the meeting hall once they finally got there, largely because Donut had spotted them and was flailing his arms wildly over his head while shouting at the top of his lungs: "Hey, guys! Hey! Over here! Hey!"

Standing next to him was the always rather disinterested-looking Lopez, and the not-really-seeming-like-he-knew-what-was-going-on Caboose. Standing closer to the wall, Grif could see the three other former Freelancers as well.

They were deep in conversation with one another, all with alert and stiff body language. So, yeah, that was definitely a pretty clear sign that something big was going down if ever there was one.

Grif tried ignoring his exuberant teammate and was tempted to go stand anywhere else but there, largely because Sarge happened to be standing close by as well. However, given the threatening gestures his commanding officer was giving them to hurry up, no doubt so that the two teams would be complete to avoid communication confusion later on down the line, it was probably better to be safe than sorry.

"Hey, guys!" Donut repeated again in a normal decibel once his teammate and the two Blue Team members along with Junior approached. As usual, his tone was far too perky for the heavy atmosphere that seemed to be permeating the space, "How's it going?"

"Donut, you saw both of us only a few hours ago." Grif reminded him with a sigh.

"Well, a lot can happen in a few hours." His pink-armored teammate winked conspiratorially, and Grif couldn't help but groan at the implication he knew was behind that comment.

"Sergeant Pastry and my purple friend got very close when you left." Caboose chimed in happily, "Just like me and Church!"

Tucker glanced over at the marks only just visible on the exposed part of Donut's neck, raising a black eyebrow, "I don't know, Caboose. It seems like they may have gotten close in a different way."

Donut actually reddened slightly, causing Grif to raise an eyebrow as well. A smirk crossed over his features once he realized what Tucker was implying, and how it seemed like a rather accurate assessment of what had probably gone on between Doc and Donut after they had both left the bar.

Both men knew better than to really try teasing Donut over it though. His playful "slaps" that followed his "Knock it off, you guys!" remarks actually hurt a lot more than one might expect.

"Yes, well, Doc is a really nice guy!" Donut stated, smiling now along with his still present blush, "Everyone there was."

"Sheila y yo lo pasamos muy bien. Es más divertido que molesto viendo ustedes ser imbéciles cuando se tiene compañía." {"Sheila and I had fun. It's more amusing than annoying watching you guys be morons when you have company."}

Donut turned his head slightly to nod in the direction of the electronic voice, "Lopez says the ambiance was great too."

"Usted acabas de demostrar mi punto." {"You just proved my point."}

"I want to hang out with Church again soon! And Agent Washingtub." Caboose frowned, looking at his teammate pointedly, "Tucker monographed him."

"I think you mean monopolized, Caboose." Donut pointed out politely.

"Not unless I get to be the thimble."

Sarge mumbled under his breath something along the lines of "fraternizing with the enemy," but it was lost on Grif as he scanned the meeting area for signs of his sister and the other new recruits.

Usually Matthews would already be here sucking up by asking if they needed anything, and he knew that if Kai was around she would have been trying to use this opportunity to blab about what she had seen.

He needed to try to come up with a way to get her not to do that, since he'd promised Simmons he would. He figured Volleyball probably wouldn't if he simply asked her not to, but Kai would be trickier to convince.

"Where are the lieutenants?" He finally asked, not paying attention to the conversations that had been forming around him while he'd been looking around the meeting hall.

"Oh, yeah. This meeting is for everyone, right?" Donut picked up on his teammate's train of thought, scanning the room himself, "But, I haven't seen any of them yet."

Sarge frowned, though he almost seemed impressed momentarily that Grif had apparently been observant enough to notice anything about the other people gathering there, "I sent them out on a mission already."

"Oh? Without telling anyone else first?"

With that curious, almost chiding-sounding remark, Felix appeared before the group. How he could just show up in front of people like that without them noticing was rather mind-boggling.

It seemed as if Felix had apparently overheard Sarge's comment and decided he should take the opportunity to comment on it while they waited.

"I talked it over with Kimball. We both decided they would be more suited elsewhere right now." Sarge said, bristling defensively at the perceived criticism of his tactical decision, "Didn't really see the need to blast it out over the airwaves."

"Probably should work on those trust issues at some point, Sarge." The mercenary joked, amusement causing the corners of his mouth to twist upwards slightly.

"Trust has to be earned." The older man's eyes narrowed, "Especially if the person in question wears orange."

Felix cast his amused look over to Grif, who let out a sigh in exasperation. Leave it to the crazy old guy to manage to insult him in the process too, even when Sarge wasn't apparently actively angry at him. He could not win there.

"I just hope they aren't where any of the main action is going to take place." The steel and orange-armored freelancer said in an almost conversational tone, though there was a serious glint in his dark eyes that showed he wasn't taking whatever was going on nearly as lightly as he was appearing to, "Would hate for something bad to happen to them."

Grif almost felt like he had to say something about how Kaikaina always had good survival skills, and that the others weren't too bad when it came to combat now. However, Felix turned to Tucker before Sarge, Grif, or one of the others could indignantly respond to his comment. The mercenary looked down at Tucker's arm, his hand still gripping Junior's tightly.

"You should probably have your kid hang back for this too, Tucker." He advised him, not really glancing in Junior's direction at all as he spoke.

Tucker snorted, "Don't have to tell me that, Felix." He said tersely, momentarily squeezing Junior's hand in response to Felix's remark, "I'm not that much of an idiot."

"That, I'm not so sure of." The mercenary titled his head slightly, looking over the collected group appraisingly, "But, it's good that you guys seem to be taking this more seriously now. It's big."

"No shit." Sarge harrumphed while shrugging, "Might want to tell us something we don't know next time."

He smirked, "Oh, I think I'd have to narrow down the list first."

With that, Felix wandered off to stand close by where Tex, York, and North were still talking. In an almost bored manner, he took out his combat knife and started throwing it in the air and catching it again. But, there was a terseness in his body language that conflicted with that nonchalant air he was trying to project all the same.

"Locus is apparently involved in this whole thing." C.T. said in way of explanation, and there were some nods of understanding amongst the group then.

After all, Felix always did get into strange moods when it came to his former mercenary partner. Given the serious nature of what was happening, and knowing Locus was involved on top of that? Well, Grif supposed it made sense that he would be on edge.

When Sarge seemed certain that Felix wasn't going to be drifting back over to them anytime soon, he turned to Grif, "We have them monitoring Level One since odds are good the Council's going to split without too much fuss whenever this whole thing goes down."

It made sense, he supposed. The newer recruits had improved considerably since they had first joined, but they were still considered to be more-or-less in training. Giving them an assignment that was necessary from a cautionary stance, but not as likely to involve fierce combat situations was a rather good strategy.

Odd though that Sarge even bothered explaining it to him of all people when he had refused to do so with Felix. True, Sarge hadn't liked the guy ever since he had been hired on for the Resistance and became something of a friend to Kimball, but it wasn't like Felix hadn't proved that he was trustworthy by this point.

So, while the tan Resistance fighter was a bit relieved to know what his sister was up to and that she and the other lieutenants weren't going to be in too much danger most likely, he had to ask: "You're telling me this because?"

"I figured you should know on account of your sister, at least." Sarge shrugged, "Besides, while you're a lazy good-for-nothing-who-wears-orange, that's at least one up over a certain good-for-nothing-who-asks-for-money-instead-of-just-fighting-for-the-hell-of-it-who-also-wears-orange."

It was probably the closest thing Sarge would ever get to being remotely nice or complimenting him. Yeah, Grif was going to try ignoring how horribly sad that was.

The orange-armored soldier thought it deserved a proper, only slightly sarcastic response, "Oh, wow. Thanks, Sarge."

"Don't get too cocky there, dirtbag." The red-armored soldier stated bluntly, "My contingency plan is still 'Shoot Grif' first."

Well, that moment certainly lasted longer than he expected.

Grif rolled his eyes, "Inspirational as always."

"You're just lucky I keep to a plan once I create one, numb nuts." He grinned, "Though depending on what counts as an emergency, contingencies are always up for interpretation. I'd keep that in mind if I were you."

Thankfully, just as Sarge was about ready to burst into maniacal laughter again while cradling his shotgun, Kimball showed up to the meeting. A very grim look settled on her features as she surveyed everyone present.

"Let's get right to this, then." She announced without preamble, her voice carrying, "Some of you already know this, but there is a situation in the tunnels that is top priority from here on out." Her eyes settled on the tan armor of a certain former Freelancer, "York, you're up. Then we'll talk about the battle plan."

Judging by her demeanor and York's own as he stepped up to quickly recount to everyone just what he'd seen, Grif became even more grateful for Sarge and Kimball's decision to take Kaikaina and the other younger soldiers out of the immediate threat's path.

In the back of his mind, he was aware of a sudden realization forming that he was probably going to regret not spending more time with Simmons when he had the chance. Grif had a sneaking suspicion that whatever happened from here on out, the "peace talks" were over.

This new turn of events was certainly going to be even less fun than playing fake niceties ever was. It was kind of disappointing that they weren't going to be given the option to sit this one out either.

But, well, that figured.

---

Author's Notes: This chapter serves as the somewhat necessary "aftermath" of what happened in the last chapter before moving on to the action, so there's more character reflections and interactions here than anything else.

Yes, Grif and Simmons are extremely oblivious when it comes to one thing in particular. XD For some reason I always seem to be unintentionally mean to Simmons whenever I write for him, the poor guy! 0_0; It will get better eventually for you, Simmons, I swears! :)

Really loved the Season 12 Finale, by the way! It was quite awesome. :D

Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you will enjoy the next chapter when things start moving forward again in the main plot!