Chapter Text
Grif spent the morning of his wedding dodging Sarge's assassination attempts. It didn't feel that much different than a regular day. He didn't catch on that Sarge was actively trying to murder him until Sarge broke down after one too many failures and shook his fists at the sky, shouting, "Where have I gone wrong? Is the universe itself conspiring against me to keep Grif alive? What cruel universe do we live in? Simmons is doomed. Doomed!"
"How did you not know he was trying to kill you?" Simmons asked flatly. His expression was both baffled and resigned. Frankly, that was still a step up from his earlier pissy look. One would think a guy would be happy to see his future husband on the day of their wedding, but of course Simmons had whined about Grif breaking tradition by coming to hide in his room. "I thought you were just humoring him and pretending not to notice. Tucker told me Sarge put a bomb in your pancakes!"
Grif shrugged. "I thought Donut was experimenting with flambé pancakes or something. You know, to celebrate."
"Flambé pancakes," Simmons echoed, and closed his eyes. He sighed deeply. Grif got the impression that he was resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"In my defense, Donut has gone all out for this wedding."
Apparently Donut was summoned by saying his name two times, because before Simmons could respond, Donut burst into the room and shrieked.
"Grif!" he said, sounding so agonized that Grif squinted, trying to see if Sarge had somehow shot Donut by mistake. Donut's face was full of reproachful horror. "How could you break such a wonderful tradition? The grooms aren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding!"
"Hey, how do you know that Simmons didn't invite me here?"
Both Simmons and Donut gave him a look.
Grif shrugged. "Okay, that's fair."
Donut thrust a large bag at Simmons. His mournful expression brightened. "At least I didn't use a clear garment bag, so technically Grif hasn't seen you in your suit yet. What a close call! Here's the suit, ironed to perfection. And it'll fit you like a glove, of course."
"Of course," Simmons said without enthusiasm. His eyes held the same distant horror that Grif was pretty sure filled his own. Donut had insisted on taking everyone's measurements to make outfits for the entire wedding party. Grif was still a little surprised that the wedding had survived that terrible ordeal. Actually, he was more surprised that no one had murdered Donut. Especially the members of the Blue Team, who'd made it a super weird habit of killing each other.
Donut grabbed Grif's arm. "And you! Out this minute, mister."
Grif dug in his heels. "Only if you promise to sacrifice yourself when Sarge tries to murder me again." Visions of destroyed pancakes paraded through his mind. What a waste of food! A horrible thought struck him. "Have you checked that the wedding cake isn't booby-trapped?" He figured that it was probably safe, since Sarge wouldn't want to catch Simmons in the crossfire, but after all that wailing and rending of clothes and stuff, Grif had started to wonder if Sarge might think it would be more merciful to kill Simmons too.
Donut's grip tightened on Grif's arm, hard enough that he yelped. When Donut spoke, his tone was calm. Too calm, actually. It made Grif think about serial killers, who probably sounded nice and reasonable right up until the second before they murdered you. Grif tried to unobtrusively pull his arm away, to no avail.
"Grif. Nothing and no one is going to ruin your special day. Not after all my hard work." Some of the calm slipped from Donut's voice. "Do you know how difficult it was to get orchid and plumeria blossoms at this time of year? In this quadrant?"
Grif didn't know which answer would save him from another of Donut's wedding rants, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead it was Simmons who took the bullet and said soothingly, "Extremely difficult, and Grif and I appreciate it very much."
Looking slightly less homicidal, Donut said, “Well, you’re welcome! Now let’s get Grif out of here so you can put on your suit!” He laughed. “Though of course I’ll be back later to give your look my own personal touch.”
“Great,” Simmons said hollowly.
Before Grif could say anything, Donut dragged him towards the door. This time Grif let himself be pulled out into the hallway, though he made sure to use Donut as a shield in case Sarge attacked again. The door closed on the sight of Simmons looking a little misty-eyed as he smiled at the garment bag.
“Ugh, what a sap,” Grif muttered, and then tried to wipe the matching grin off his face. He should’ve known that Simmons’ stupid mushiness was contagious, like a yawn or an STD. “Does this mean I finally get to see my suit?”
Donut’s face lit up.
Grif studied himself in the mirror, ignoring Donut’s calls for him to spin around and work it. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Donut had done a great job. Somehow he had found a silk vest and tie that matched the color of his armor. Plus, the suit did fit perfectly. There was just one problem. The suit itself was white. No, just calling it white didn’t do it justice. The suit was the essence of white, so shiny that Grif’s eyes actually watered a little as he looked at his reflection.
“Is Simmons wearing white too? Because I don’t care what he says, I wasn’t the virgin nerd in this relationship.”
Donut laughed. “It’s not about experience, silly! It’s about skin tones and complimentary colors! That bright white would wash him right out. Meanwhile, you’ll look fabulous.”
“Yeah, I’m going to take that as a no,” Grif said. He resigned himself to a shitload of bride and virgin jokes. It was a shame, really. He’d had a few good ones up his sleeve for Simmons in case Donut had decked him out in white.
He started to fiddle with his tie and yelped when Donut slapped his hand.
“That tie is knotted perfectly,” Donut said, back to his too-calm tone. “The entire outfit is flawless. You aren't going to ruin this for me. So this is the plan: the wedding is in one hour. You are going to sit in your room, very still, until your sister comes.”
“Uh…..” Grif had a fierce, internal battle over whether or not to tell Donut to rephase things, or to point out that technically it was his and Simmons' wedding day to ruin. His hand was still stinging from the slap, though, so he settled on just waiting Donut out. That sometimes worked.
“She’ll pick you up in forty minutes and walk you down the aisle.” Before Grif could say a word, Donut held up a finger. “Now, you are going to follow these rules, or you will regret the day that you and Simmons chose me as your wedding planner.” His smile was at odds with his deadly serious tone, which made things even more terrifying.
“Uh, we didn’t choose you. You volunteered and we didn’t say no,” Grif said, despite himself.
Thankfully Donut ignored him in favor of waving his finger in Grif’s face. “No food or drink. You’re simply going to sit here until Kaikaina comes. Understand?”
Grif nodded. When Donut kept staring, he said, “Okay, fine.” Donut’s expression didn’t change. Grif sat down and folded his arms against his chest. “Jesus, Donut, I solemnly swear that I will sit here until Kaikaina comes to get me, okay?”
“Great!” Donut chirped, apparently finally appeased. “Now I better check in on Wash and Carolina. They’re greeting the guests, you know.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Then Donut’s words sunk in. “Wait, you have Wash and Carolina greeting everyone?” he asked, but Donut was already gone. “Well, that should go great.”
There was no one around to appreciate his sarcasm. It was just him and his reflection in the mirror. “You know I’m right,” he muttered at his reflection’s dubious look, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He’d made it a rule not to talk to himself after….
Well, let’s just say he wasn’t going to give his reflection the opportunity to talk back.
He looked down to avoid the mirror, and belatedly realized a few things. One, that someone had cleaned away all the empty food containers and dirty clothes that usually carpeted the floor. Two, that he didn’t actually own a full-length mirror.
Grif knew that everything could be explained by Donut being Donut. He’d probably snuck in and cleaned while Grif was dodging assassination attempts. It had been Donut making sure that Grif’s suit would stay stainless until the wedding. This room was real. Donut and Simmons were real. Sarge’s lame assassination attempts were real. Grif wasn’t still on the retirement moon, talking to a bunch of painted volleyballs.
Still the sudden disorientation caught him by the throat and squeezed. He swallowed against the bitter metallic taste in his mouth and lurched to his feet, fighting against the feeling that his previously comfortable suit was now several sizes too small. He yanked at his tie until it unraveled between his shaking fingers.
He stared at the orange tie clenched in his fist and breathed hard until the panicky feeling eased. He didn’t have these moments too often, but they were obnoxious as hell every time. You live alone for a few weeks and somehow end up even more neurotic than Simmons, he guessed. The thought of Simmons steadied him for a second before he remembered that he couldn’t go back to Simmons’ room to reassure himself that he wasn’t hallucinating. If he showed up in his suit and completely broke wedding tradition, Simmons would go from pissy to furious. Could you annul the wedding before it even started?
Still, Grif wasn’t sticking around his room to let his brain mess with him. He just had to figure out a place to hide out until Kai came to get him, somewhere Donut and Sarge wouldn’t think to look.
“Grif, what the fuck are you doing?”
Grif looked up from where he was bent awkwardly over a trash can in the Blue kitchen. He started to answer, but the last cookie had stuck in his throat. He swallowed a mouthful of whiskey to help it down and tried again.
“Well, I can tell you what I’m not doing.”
“Uh, following Donut’s orders so he doesn’t murder you?” Tucker was already wearing his suit, and Grif felt vaguely disturbed to see that Donut had succeeded in finding an aquamarine tie and vest for him. Had Donut seriously matched everyone’s suits and dresses to their armor? Jesus. “He’s on the warpath. Though you cheered up Sarge. He thinks that you’re Runaway Bride-ing this shit.”
“Seriously?” When Tucker nodded, Grif grinned. “Nice. Sarge thinks he’s saved Simmons from unholy matrimony, and Donut is probably too busy having a meltdown to find and murder me. My odds of surviving today just went up.”
Tucker laughed. “Yeah, dude, I’m pretty sure it means two people are trying to kill you now.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Three, if Sarge convinces Simmons that you actually ran away.”
“If I was going to run, I would’ve done it during Donut’s measurement crap,” Grif said. He watched Tucker get a hollow expression identical to Simmons. He almost felt bad. No one should have to remember that shit. He wiggled the whiskey bottle. “Want some?”
“Hell yeah, thanks,” said Tucker, and took a long swallow. Then he frowned. “Wait, this is Blue Team whiskey. And Caboose’s cookies. Why am I thanking you? You should be thanking me. Besides, I’m pissed at you.”
“Fine, I’ll put it on Simmons’ list for thank-you letters.” Then the final sentence clicked. Grif squinted at Tucker as he silently went over the last few days. He didn’t remember doing anything to piss him off. “Why are you pissed?” He threw out a few guesses. “Because Donut sent you to find me? Or the measurement thing? Because if it’s the second thing, we all suffered. Besides, it’s Simmons’ fault for not being able to man up and tell Donut we didn’t need a wedding planner.”
“Uh, neither one. I’m pissed because this wedding is lame. You and Simmons couldn’t come up with one bridesmaid between you? Didn’t Simmons have a whole lady squad on Chorus? I know he can’t talk to women, but I expected better of you, man.”
Grif rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Though really, dude, I’ve got three words for you: paternity lawsuits.”
Tucker glared. “That’s technically two words, dumbass. And also? Low blow. Low. Blow.”
“Yeah, I’m with Tucker. Where are all the ladies? I am ready for some hotties,” announced a familiar voice. A second later Kaikaina had Grif wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug. Any lingering anxiety vanished; his entire body felt lighter, like he’d just taken off his armor. Kai was way too fucking real to be a hallucination. Plus his ribs were starting to hurt. “Hey, big bro!”
“Ugh,” he groaned. He pretended to sag in her hug and threw in some fake breathlessness for good measure. “And...in the end…it wasn’t Donut or Sarge who...killed me….but my own sister….” She laughed and loosened her grip, though she didn’t completely let go. Some of Simmons’ dumb infectious sappiness welled up, and Grif pressed his face against her shoulder and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “Thanks for coming. I know you’re busy with your parties.”
After the UNSC had given her some made-up position of morale and liaison officer, Kai’s raves and festivals had moved from Blood Gulch to a few other quadrants. He couldn’t remember where she’d been last. Wherever the UNSC hoped a party would prevent bloodshed or some stupid shit like that. At least Kai was having fun.
“Well, duh. Who else was gonna walk you down the aisle? The gay guy? The other gay guy you convinced to marry you? That mean old dude?” Kai paused, scrunching up her face in thought, and then brightened. “The hot robot who choked me out?”
“Ugh,” Grif said, meaning it this time. “Please stop talking.”
Kaikaina laughed and gave him one last hug before she sauntered over and snatched the whiskey from Tucker, downing the rest of the bottle in a single swallow. Belatedly, Grif realized she was wearing a dress that matched his vest and tie, and showed off a lot of skin, all of which Tucker was currently eyeing with appreciation.
“Stop looking at my sister like that, jackass!”
Tucker grinned. “You do know I’ve seen everything already, right?”
“Yeah, you and everyone else at this fucking wedding,” Grif muttered.
Kai frowned. “Hey! I have some standards. That fucking cop you have greeting everyone hasn’t seen me naked.” She paused. Doubt crept into her face. “I think….. I don’t know, I was doing a lot of drugs when he visited the base. I could’ve been naked.”
“The cop?”
“Uh, the whiny cop bitch with the hot bitch,” Kai said, her tone suggesting it was a stupid question. “The ones I was talking to when that dessert guy grabbed me, made me change into this dress, and sent me looking for you.”
Grif and Tucker exchanged a confused look. At least Tucker seemed to have as much trouble understanding his sister as he did. “...You mean Wash and Carolina? And Donut?”
“Yeah! Carolina! Speaking of people I’d like to choke me out….”
Grif closed his eyes as Tucker fell into a half-laughing, half-coughing fit. “Kai, it’s my wedding day, so if you could keep your wet dreams to yourself, that’d be fucking great.” He opened his eyes. “Wait, Donut sent you to look for me? How’d you know I was here?”
Kai shot him a pitying look. “Dex, every time we played Hide and Seek as kids, you hid in the kitchen so you could eat while I counted to one hundred. It was here or the other kitchen, and that one is filled with fancy wedding food. It wasn’t rocket science.”
“An excellent deduction, Private Grif!” chirped a familiar voice. Both Grey and Kimball stood in the doorway. Grif almost didn’t recognize them out of armor, but he’d know Grey’s voice anywhere. “Based on previous observations of Captain Grif in times of stress and, well, in general, both Vanessa and I concluded that he would likely seek out what is colloquially called comfort food. And it seems we were correct!” Grey smiled brightly. “Congratulations on your nuptials, captain. All of Chorus sends its best wishes to you and Captain Simmons.”
Kai was staring at them, her eyes wide. “Wow, you both clean up hot,” she said breathlessly. “Dibs.”
“What?” Grif said as Tucker protested, “You can’t call dibs on people!”
Kai kept staring. “Double. Dibs.”
“Shit,” Tucker said, his shoulders slumping like she’d won the argument. “Just don’t call dibs on all the hot chicks, okay?”
“No promises,” Kai said. Tucker groaned loudly.
Grey looked a little amused, but then she always did, like she was in on some grand cosmic joke.
Kimball just ignored the exchange, focusing on Grif. She seemed uncomfortable in her suit, as though she felt as weird as he did that she was out of her armor. After a second, she unbent enough to smile slightly and say, “Congratulations, Captain Grif. From what I understand, this day has been a long time coming, but I’m sure that you will be happy together.”
Tucker smirked. “A long time coming? You’ve got no idea, madam president. I called this back when we were all still privates here in freaking Blood Gulch. These losers took like fifty years to admit their feelings.”
“Shut up,” Grif said automatically, though he’d resigned himself a while ago that Tucker was never going to stop crowing how he’d called it.
Kimball just continued as though Grif and Tucker hadn’t said a word. ”And I have to admit that it will be nice to attend a wedding as a guest.” They must have all looked confused, because her smile turned a little rueful. “Apparently having the president of Chorus officiate your wedding is a very popular request. There’s a lottery for it.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you dislike it, Vanessa,” said Grey, patting the other woman’s arm. “Marriage is one of the ultimate acts of hope, after all! To agree to such a union, one must trust that they’ve found someone whose feelings won’t alter through the years, who will remain with them for better or for worse and won’t abandon or betray them. They must believe that tomorrow’s evolving relationship will be as wonderful as today’s! After all that Chorus has been through, you love that its citizens have hope for the future.”
Kimball’s expression had softened during Grey’s speech. “Haven’t I told you not to psychoanalyze me, doctor?” She was smiling as she spoke, though, and Grey giggled as though it was an old joke.
“Damn,” said Tucker. He sounded a little choked up. “Grif, is it too late to tell Sarge he can’t officiate? Cause Dr. Grey just rocked that speech. And Sarge is...Sarge.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Grey said apologetically. “I’m not ordained. And before you ask, Vanessa is on vacation. Even the president of Chorus needs a few days off!”
Kimball grimaced in a way that made Grif suspect that the vacation hadn’t been her idea. “As you keep claiming. Captain Grif, Private Donut did seem genuinely distraught. You should probably inform him that you haven’t run away.”
“Ugh, fine. Come on, Kai.”
“Okay. I’ll see you two at the party.” Kai directed the second sentence at Kimball and Grey, throwing in an elaborate eyebrow waggle that made Tucker grin and the two women blink. She turned suddenly, hands on hips. “Oh, and Tucker, that vid you sent was like super grainy and I couldn’t see anything! Lame!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Grif said with feeling. “Tucker, if you sent my sister a sex tape or something--” Kai slapped him upside the head and he yelped. “Hey, no hitting the groom! That is totally a rule at weddings!”
“He sent me a vid of Junior’s last game, dumbass,” she told him. “The kid’s like the best at football.”
“Basketball,” Tucker corrected.
Kai shrugged. “Whatever, sports are boring.”
“You’re just saying that because you got kicked off the cheerleading squad like five times.”
“No I’m not! Sports are boring! Unless you’re in like the Olympic village or something. Those athletes are into some hot, freaky shit. This one gymnast, he was so flexible, he could--”
“Kai! None of your slut stories on my wedding day! We agreed!”
“Ugh, whatever.”
Tucker was obviously struggling with his curiosity. His jaw twitched. He pointed at Kai. “I demand to hear all the details at the party. Especially if there are some female athletes involved, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh yeah,” Kai assured him, grinning. “Did you know that table tennis is an Olympic sport? Man, did that chick know her way around a ping-pong.” She was still grinning when Grif growled, “Kai, one more word out of your mouth and I’ll have fucking Lopez walk me down the aisle and you can stay here.”
Kai shot him a disbelieving look, but kept her mouth shut.
Tucker looked a little glassy-eyed. “Ignore Grif. You’re telling me that story tonight.” Then he turned to Kimball and Grey, and gave himself a little shake as though to recalibrate his brain. His expression transformed. “Want to see the vid? Junior kicked some major ass. He’s gonna go pro after college! In fact, I should let him tell you about the game himself. He’s here for the wedding--”
Grif grabbed Kai’s arm. “Let’s get out while we can. Once he starts talking about Junior, he literally never stops.” Grif had missed out on some prime napping time learning that the hard way after he and Tucker had sort of become friends during the Temple and Blues and Reds thing. For all that Tucker was still pissed about the paternity stuff on Chorus, he was a great dad to Junior.
Sure enough, Tucker was still boasting about his kid when the door shut behind them.
In the hallway, Kai linked arms with Grif as they walked towards the exit. “So, you and Simmons. I guess I should’ve seen that coming. He’s totally your type. You dig nerds.”
Grif squinted at her, wondering if she was high already. He’d asked her to wait until after the party to do any drugs, but Kai was Kai, so who knows what she’d smoked or snorted. Nerds definitely weren’t his type. He was into cool, dangerous people. If he’d been into nerds, falling for Simmons wouldn’t have been a total fucking surprise. “I don’t date nerds. Name one I dated.”
“Haukea Sigrah and Akoni Kahue! They were totally smarter than you.”
“That doesn’t make them nerds! Plenty of people are smarter than me without being nerds, Kai.” She grinned at him as he realized he’d managed to insult himself. He glared as they stepped out into the sunlight. “Shut up. And Akoni was my dealer, not my boyfriend.”
“Um, then why were you practically eating his face when I came home from school that time--”
Grif used his free hand to cover her mouth. “Still not my boyfriend. I was a fucking teenager. I would have made out with anyone who offered. Also? He wasn't a nerd.”
Kai said something muffled. When he moved his hand, she said, “Whatever.” She smiled at him, a sudden, bright grin that wrinkled the corners of her eyes. “Still, I’m happy for you guys.”
“DEXTER BARTHOLOMEW GRIF!”
“Your middle name is Bartholomew?” Kai asked, looking surprised as Donut’s outraged shriek rang through the canyon and Grif lost about five years off his life.
“No. It’s called creative license,” Donut said. He was breathing hard, and his face was flushed, as though he’d run all the way from Red Base. He probably had. His hands were indignant fists at his hips, creasing his suit. For the moment he seemed too furious with Grif to notice. “Grif, I gave you one order: don’t leave your room! And what did you do?”
Grif figured that the question was hypothetical until Donut’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Um, I left my room?”
“Exactly,” Donut said. His expression made Grif inch behind his sister, who muttered that he was a coward even as she eyed Donut warily.
Grif thought frantically. “Look, I was, uh, worried that Sarge was going to find me and kill me before the wedding. I didn’t want to ruin your big day! My big day. Simmons’ big day. ….Our big day?” He hoped Donut would buy it.
Some of the anger left Donut’s face, though he still looked upset. He reached out, then paused as Grif flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you, silly! I worked hard to make you look amazing for this wedding. I’m not ruining that, even if I’m a little peeved. All is, well, not forgiven, but I do understand worrying about Sarge! He’s been singing to himself ever since I announced you were missing. I think I even heard one or two show tunes! Now come here.”
Reluctantly, Grif stepped from behind Kai and let Donut get closer.
Donut plucked the tie out of Grif’s pocket, and clucked over it like Grif remembered his grandmother fussing over his dirty school clothes. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t lose it,” he said at last, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “And that you don’t have any nasty stains!”
“Uh, yeah,” Grif said, relieved that the trick of hunching over the trash can with his whiskey and cookies had worked. He decided not to mention his good luck to Donut. He figured he wouldn’t find it funny.
Grif stood still while Donut knotted the tie around his neck, and endured the further invasion of his personal space as Donut pulled out a comb from who-knows-where and attacked his hair. Then Donut smoothed out any real or imagined wrinkles from the suit. Even when Donut picked what Grif suspected was a non-existent piece of lint off his ass, he figured he was getting off easy.
Finally Donut stepped back and gave him and Kai a critical look. “There’s something missing,” he muttered to himself, tapping his lips with a finger. He tweaked Grif’s orange pocket square, but shook his head, still unsatisfied. Then he laughed. “Oh, right, of course! I almost forgot.” Like a magician, he snapped his fingers and a pair of plumeria blossoms appeared in his hands. He tucked the first behind Kai’s ear, and the other looped around her wrist. “Perfect!”
When Grif took a deep breath, he smelled citrus. Celadine had always been his favorite variety of plumeria, the one his dad had grown in their garden. He wondered if Donut knew, or if he’d just gone with a variety that matched Kai’s dress. Either way, he felt sappy again, watching Kai lift her wrist to her nose and breathe in the flower’s scent. It reminded him of her first middle school dance, the only one she’d attended without getting kicked out early or arrested or pregnant. (Or, on one memorable night, all three.)
“Thanks, Donut,” he said, meaning it. “You’ve done a great job with the wedding.”
Donut looked startled by the compliment, but gratified. “It was my pleasure. I’m just glad I fit everything in! It was really tight for a while there, you know, making sure everyone got what they wanted.” Before Grif could regret his compliment, Donut added, “Well! Are you ready to walk down the aisle? I have Caboose announcing--”
He was interrupted by what sounded like one or two minor explosions. A second later, Caboose’s amplified voice rang out. “Hello, everybody! Donut said to tell everyone that Grif isn’t dead or a runaway bride, so please find a seat! We have lots of chairs, so it should be easy! If you get lost, as some people maybe have before, just stay where you are and shout for help until someone finds you! THE WEDDING IS IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!” In a quieter but still clearly amplified voice, Caboose added, “Mister Sarge, stop crying! I know you’re happy the wedding is still on, but you’re getting tears on your nice suit!”
Donut’s eyes widened in alarm. “He’s going to ruin his outfit! Kai, can you take Grif to the waiting area?” He didn’t wait for a reply, bolting towards the Red Base.
Grif stared after him. Caboose’s words had been like a grenade to the head. For the first time all day, maybe for the first time since the proposal, it completely sunk in that this wedding was actually happening. In a few minutes he and Simmons were going to stand in front of everyone and say “I do” and all that romantic shit.
“Come on, bro.” Kai tugged on Grif’s arm when he didn’t move. “Let’s go.”
“Holy shit,” Grif said, and didn’t recognize his own voice. “I’m getting married.”
Kai gave him a weird look. “Duh, in like fifteen minutes. Did you sleepwalk through the last few months?”
Grif remembered Grey talking about marriage being the two people trusting each other not to abandon or betray them. He’d already fucked that one up, even if he’d apologized. He imagined Sarge reminding Simmons of that in his officiant speech. His stomach sank. Why had he agreed to an actual wedding again? They could’ve run off to the Vegas Quadrant and gotten hitched by a complete stranger before Simmons could realize that he’d made a mistake.
“Fuck. We should’ve eloped.”
“No way. Donut would’ve straight-up murdered you both.” Kai’s voice changed. “Hey, hey, Dex.” Kai’s face was suddenly very close to his. There was a crease between her eyes, and she frowned. She gave him a little shake. “Come on, dumbass, take a breath. I have fifty bucks on Simmons fainting, not you.”
“Who took that action? That’s a sucker’s bet,” Grif muttered, but obeyed. He took one breath, then another, until the buzzing in his ears cleared.
Kai studied him. Apparently satisfied he wasn’t about to collapse, she snorted and patted his arm, making a few half-assed attempts to smooth his creased sleeves. “Man, I don’t remember you being this weird when we were kids. So what the fuck was that about?”
Grif didn’t answer her immediately. Now that he wasn’t panicking, he knew better than to worry that Simmons would call off the wedding. Simmons actually wanted to marry him. Go figure. Maybe it was mutual Stockholm Syndrome or something. He avoided Kai’s eyes and shrugged, embarrassed to admit that he’d gotten all worked up over nothing. “No idea. Maybe my tie’s on too tight.”
“Bullshit,” Kai said, matter-of-factly. She smiled at him. It was a rare smile, one he almost didn’t recognize. It was the reassuring smile she’d worn the day he’d left for basic training, when he’d tried to hide his terrified conviction that he was going to die in this stupid war. She’d told him not to worry, he wasn’t cool enough to die in battle. He’d survive and come home.
He wasn’t surprised when she said, “Don’t worry, Dex. You might be a hero now, but you’re still my boring brother. You and Simmons are gonna get married, have three dogs and six kids, and live all that lame white picket fence shit.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re gonna have to find someone else to be their godmother, though. I call dibs on being the cool aunt. I can take them to their first raves!”
“You can’t call dibs on everything you want. And fuck no, you’re not going to be the cool aunt. You’ll be the bad example I point at whenever my kids do some dumb shit,” Grif said. Then he shuddered as he actually imagined being a dad. Would he turn into someone like Tucker, making people look at photos of his kids like a weirdo? “Not that we’re having kids. Jesus. Who wants all that responsibility? Not me, that’s for sure.”
“Uh huh,” Kai said in an unconvinced tone. She eyed him for a few seconds and then extended her arm. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah. Plus I honestly think Donut’s brain will explode if we’re late.”
“Aw, that sounds funny,” Kai said, looking intrigued. “Are you sure we couldn’t be a little late--”
“No,” Grif said, and Kai sighed.
“You’re not even married yet, and you’re already super lame.”
