Shiny Things

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dexter Grif stated in complete disbelief as the transport successfully landed by the only major city of the mostly rural colony world of Blood Gulch, “We ended up traveling all the way back to your neck of the woods for a fucking shopping trip?”

Sarge harrumphed as he eyed Grif and the rest of the mismatched group that had been ordered to gather in the transport’s hangar area and prepare for departure, “I’d been needing to come back and pick up a few more of my gizmos, and wouldn’t you know?” The older man knowingly smirked as he held up three datapads with visible inventory lists on their displays, “Chorus just so happened to be needing some supplies we can get here in the city for dirt cheap. It’s a win-win!”

“Bullshit.” Bitters muttered while the other five lieutenants assembled there did their best to ignore his current attitude, at the same time that an overly-eager to throw himself back into distracting work Simmons breathlessly intoned, “An excellent idea, sir!”

“Suck-up.” Grif mumbled so that only Simmons nearby could hear, causing the Strassian to shoot the orange-armored human a glare he gleefully pretended to ignore. Grif was grateful that the two of them were just starting to get back into their usual rhythm after all of the mind fuckery on Trocadero, even though he still worried when Simmons became more withdrawn or pensive-looking from time to time.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure you just fucking dated yourself by saying gizmos.” Tucker noted in response to Sarge’s earlier remarks.

Washington groaned from the front of the assemblage where he was standing next to a thoroughly bemused-looking Doctor Grey, promptly burying his face in his hands.

Sarge ignored them all to continue on with his speech, “Now that everyone’s feeling a might better, we could all use a mission for a breather.”

“Hearing is also the first to go.” Grif stage-whispered over to Tucker and the two snickered at the joke as Simmons looked at them in an absolutely scandalized fashion.

“I can hear just fine, dirt-bag.” Sarge testily informed Grif before carrying on, “Now, since Lopez is helping out his lady friend and couldn’t come along…”

“He probably just didn’t want to relive any traumatic memories from when he had been created here.” Grif joked to Tucker, much to Simmons’ further horror.

“Ignore them, Simmons.” Washington advised his younger protégé over his shoulder, “Though I know it’s not easy to do.”

“Hey! I didn’t even say anything that time.” Tucker whined out rather tersely.

“…And our pink friend Donut opted out of coming along…”

“Yeah, what the fuck was up with that?” Tucker queried, though no response was given.

“…I have taken the liberty of dividing everyone into teams to split the list!” Sarge finished triumphantly after so many interruptions.

Everyone save Matthews and Simmons tried to conceal their utter lack of apathy, all with varying degrees of effort.

“Myself, the gifted Doctor Grey, Volleyball, and Grif’s sister will rustle up the rest of my things…” Sarge stated, handing Grey one of the datapads as he did so.

“Lame!” Kai yelled out from where she was standing in the back of the hanger.

“…Tucker, Simmons, Matthews, and Palomo will take one half the Chorus supply list,” Sarge held out the datapad in question for Simmons to take, “Which leaves Washington, numb-nuts, Jensen, and Dye Job with the other half.” Washington went and retrieved the proffered datapad as Sarge continued gleefully, “Attempting to change teams or lists in any way will result in a shotgun penalty!”

Grif raised his hand, “Is that because you’re just insane or…?”

“Anyways, you best get movin’!” Sarge pointedly and purposefully interrupted the tan-skinned mech pilot, “We want to head back by nightfall.”

“I’ll be on standby here.” Four Seven Niner informed them as she jokingly saluted, “Have fun.”

It was Caboose’s turn to watch Junior back on Chorus and, contrary to what many might think of Caboose’s abilities given his personality, the blond-haired Arenian made for a surprisingly competent and capable babysitter, despite the fact that he could really only make sandwiches for dinner due to his inexplicable and mystifying ability to set even pans on fire if he turned on a stove or culinary heater.

Leonard Church sat off to the side of the park near the residences designated for the mech pilots and those that assisted them, watching the two play Hide-and-Seek with Andersmith. Junior had adamantly told Church when he had run into the trio that they really needed him to watch lest someone try and cheat.

He hadn’t had anything better to do. Damn it.

“Aw, is it your turn to babysit again?” Tex teased the cobalt-wearing man as she stealthily walked up and joined him on the grass.

“Bitch, please,” Church said as he puffed out his chest proudly, “I’m a mother-fucking referee.”

She whistled, clearly just as impressed with his newfound title as he was.

Church sighed, “I’m really just here to make sure that Caboose and Junior don’t wander off again and leave Andersmith in a lurch.” He shuddered at the memory of their previous gaming session, “Remember that one time they left him hiding in that pile of leaves overnight because Caboose found out that Junior hadn’t met Santa yet?”

Tex nodded as she watched the trio laugh, clearly enjoying themselves, “You have to admire Andersmith’s commitment.” She said jovially.

“Or something.” Church agreed.

“Oh, hey guys! What’s up?” Donut exclaimed, jogging by in ridiculously pink short-shorts that Church quickly averted his brown eyes from as the Elvari fearlessly sat his nearly bare ass cheeks right next to Tex on the ground.

Donut’s gaze landed on the three still playing Hide-and-Seek, “Man, they’re still going at it, huh?” He asked, looking rather impressed at their resilience, “I would kill for that kind of stamina. Then I could just keep it up all night long!”

Tex snorted and put a hand over her mouth to stifle back laughter, “I bet you can keep it up longer than you think.”

Oh, fuck no. Was she actually encouraging him?

“I don’t know about that.” Donut mused, “Sometimes it is best to go limp just for your health.”

“Church knows all about that.” Tex joked mercilessly.

Church rolled his eyes, “Shut up, bitch.” He looked over at Donut curiously as he watched the two Veroni’s banter with a rather pleasant and knowing look on his face, “Why didn’t you want to visit your home-world with the others, again?”

Donut was usually all in when it came to sentiment, after all. Church was still reeling from the reveal of the sheer number of scrapbooks Donut had apparently created since coming to Chorus.

The Elvari looked away almost sheepishly, which wasn’t really like him at all, “I just didn’t feel like it was a good time for a homecoming.”

Tex and Church shot one another a look, knowing only what Doc had told them once about some mysterious unpleasantness that involved Donut’s family.

Church sighed, about to get sentimental and feelings-oriented himself and rather hating himself for it, “You know, Donut…” he awkwardly began before trailing off. Feelings were difficult, damn it!

“Church! Tex! Donut!” Caboose was suddenly calling over to them excitedly while waving his arms to further get their attention, indicating a few meters away where a laughing, giddy Junior was being lifted up into the air thanks to gripping a smiling Andersmith’s extended bicep, “We found Smith this time!”

“Oh, thank fuck!” Church was quite relieved for a myriad of reasons, the biggest one being that he had forgotten to charge up his flashlight for a possible night search.

They weren’t even halfway through with getting the items on their list and Grif was already bored out of his fucking mind. Which wasn’t helped any by the older Strassian pointedly turning his body to block Grif’s view of the datapad every time he tried to curiously peek at it to see just what other things Sarge may have written on it beyond “gizmos” (which Washington vehemently denied was written at all, but Grif didn’t believe him).

On the plus side, Washington proved to be super-efficient with tracking the things down that they needed in the various shops, garages, and vendor stalls that this sector of Blood Gulch provided, so Grif knew they were well-ahead of schedule even with the former Freelancer not acting overly pleased with himself. That was pretty nice since it meant that he could probably get some time to lounge around and act leisurely until they returned to the waiting transport.

But it also sucked because it meant that they were getting actual work done in a timely fashion, and Grif did have a “no good slacker” reputation to try and maintain.

Worse yet, while Jensen was happily trudging along and clearly taking after her redheaded mentor, willing to offer her assistance whenever it proved necessary, Bitters was only begrudgingly doing so and with the least amount of effort he could get away with. Normally, Grif would be downright proud of the young Arenian with ridiculously multi-colored hair for his maverick ways, but his sullen attitude was also starting to grate on his nerves.

He knew that what had happened to Matthews had been awful and that, for whatever reason, Bitters was blaming himself for it. But his avoiding Matthews entirely was just making everything shittier in the long run. Bitters really needed to start talking to the other kid again and hopefully try to get things sorted out between them.

That line of reasoning suddenly made him hyper-aware of his own oddness with Simmons since Trocadero. So maybe he wasn’t one to point fingers, but who cared?

Grif stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned back to where Bitters continued trudging along at a truly enviable, sloth-like pace, ignoring the surprised looks on both Washington and Jensen’s faces as they halted too.

“That’s it!” Grif declared in the same type of voice that he had used in the past on the rare occasions he had tried to put his foot down when it came to Kai, hoping that Bitters wouldn’t laugh in his face for it too, “You’re getting the rest of this mission off to fucking think.”

Bitters stared at him, brown eyes wide in surprise and at a loss for words. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that outburst from the normally laidback pilot of Orange.

“You can watch over him and make sure he does just that, Jensen.” Grif informed an also very much shocked, blue-freckled Strassian girl.

Jensen spared a quick sideways glance over at Bitters before actually giving Grif a fucking salute (oh yeah, Simmons was totally her mentor), “Understood, sir.” She said.

“Whatever.” Bitters scowled, clearly not keen on the idea of having a glorified babysitter who was probably a year or two younger than him as he stalked off down the sidewalk, his friend hot on his heels.

Grif turned around to come suddenly face-to-face with an also scowling, clearly annoyed Agent Washington, “What do you think you’re doing, Captain Grif?” He demanded rather peevishly, “Dismissing our two assistants like that!”

“Relax, dude.” He held up his hands, “I was just saving us from some future grief later.”

Washington narrowed his gray eyes, clearly unconvinced, “Meaning?”

“Bitters hasn’t exactly been in a helping mindset, if you hadn’t noticed.” The heavyset human explained calmly, pointing to the datapad in Washington’s hand, “We’ll probably get through that supply list quicker without him.”

Washington looked ready to protest still before a look of dawning understanding suddenly crossed over his freckled features and he frowned in thought, “You’re actually right.” He let out a sigh, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Hey, I’m just looking for every opportunity to cut corners so we can get this shit wrapped up quickly.” Grif smirked in response.

Washington sent him an assessing look as if he was trying to gauge if that really was all there was to it and Grif sighed, figuring he might as well come completely clean, “Besides, maybe having some free time to clear his head will do the kid some good.”

Washington frowned even more, “I doubt that.” He muttered, eyes narrowed.

Grif shrugged, not feeling too particularly strongly about the possibility either way, “We should probably get going.”

Washington raised an eyebrow incredulously, “You actually want to continue this assignment?” He asked, flabbergasted.

Grif avoided eye contact, “It’s more like I have some questions of my own I want to ask you once we’re done.” He mumbled. He could tell from his body language that Washington was both surprised by this admission and rather curious, so Grif let out a small sigh as his face took on a more serious expression, “They’re about Simmons.”

“This is one of those rare times where it totally rocks to be on a team with two overachievers!” Lavernius Tucker declared happily as he stretched his arms over his head, basking in their recent success.

The four of them had just finished gathering all of the listed supplies they had been assigned to get, and no doubt in record time too. He couldn’t wait to shove it in Washington and Grif’s faces later.

…Wasn’t really a competition or anything, but they had totally kicked their asses.

“Thank you, sir!” Matthews smiled proudly at what he gullibly assumed was a compliment and Tucker was glad to see the auburn-haired Elvari back on his feet, all things considered.

Simmons, on the other hand, frowned because he apparently could not take a compliment worth shit, “You nearly got us thrown out of that last store before we got the parts, Tucker!” He chose to berate Tucker for his one near-mishap instead.

The teal-wearing mech pilot smirked back in recollection, “Couldn’t fucking help it! That girl at the counter was fine.”

Simmons sighed and shook his head at Tucker throwing in an eyebrow waggle for added emphasis, “I don’t know how Wash can put up with you.” He muttered under his breath.

Tucker patted him amicably on the back, “Dude, I could say the same thing about you and Grif.”

Simmons started sputtering incoherently, and Tucker was glad in a way that both of their faces were undoubtedly rather warm now.

“Um, Captain Simmons, sir?”

Both Tucker and Simmons turned around to face Palomo at his out of character, rather tentative-sounding question. He was holding a small box of some kind, one that Tucker had seen him buy when he had been flirting earlier with the sales girl.

Palomo’s face darkened along the faint aqua lines that displayed his half-Veroni heritage to the universe at large, eyes resting on the mystery box he was holding, “Do…do you think Ka—I mean Jensen would like to try tinkering with this? I—it’s a holographic device.”

Well, the mechanic-minded girl did like playing around with machines even in her spare time. Tucker wasn’t sure why Palomo was getting so worked up about the notion.

Simmons frowned thoughtfully and shot the young man a considering look, “Y—yes, I would think so.”

“Really? Awesome!” Palomo’s face lit up in a grin as he turned to his best friend and started pulling him towards one of the vendor food stalls close by, “C’mon, Matthews, something smells amazing over here!”

“Okay, okay!” Matthews let out a shaky laugh at his friend’s enthusiasm.

Tucker looked back over at Simmons and noticed that he was still watching the exuberant Palomo with a frown on his face. He raised an eyebrow, “Dude, what’s the big deal? He just bought something for a friend.”

“Tucker,” Simmons closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, “Veroni give technical gadgets to crushes in the hopes that they will repair them. Together.”

Oh, oh! The pieces suddenly all clicked into place as to why Palomo had been acting so bizarre before. He liked Jensen, and had basically asked the tan-skinned girl’s big brother figure if he thought that maybe she liked him too. Which had kind of put the guy in in a rather tight spot.

“You worried?” Tucker asked conversationally.

“A little.” Simmons sighed, “If only because Palomo reminds me somewhat of you.”

He snorted, “That just makes him fucking awesome.”

Simmons shot him a pointed look, “You were almost thrown out of a store for horrible flirting.”

Tucker pouted slightly at that description of his amazing flirting technique (like Simmons would know!), “You’re just worried because Jensen is like a kid sister to you, right?” He furrowed his brows, “On account of the mentor thing?”

Simmons nodded his head in agreement.

A thoughtful look crossed over Tucker’s face then, “It’s the same with you and Wash too.” He made sure that Matthews and Palomo were still in sight before turning to fully face Simmons, “You know, thanks to my dad leaving, I never had anyone around to show me the ropes like you did,” he noted, “And a part of me really wants to teach Junior more about his heritage.”

Simmons became rather tense and awkward with the new direction of this conversation, “M—maybe you should be having this conversation with Wash instead?” He tried prompting, fidgeting awkwardly.

“I can’t!” Tucker was surprised at how emphatically the words came out, “I…er, I’m sort-of embarrassed to have Wash find out how little I do know.” He looked up at Simmons with an almost pleading expression in his brown eyes, causing the other man to flinch under the regard, “Can I count on you, dude?”

“You’re…you’re asking me for help in learning about Strassian culture.” Simmons stated in staunch disbelief.

Tucker nodded his head exuberantly, his whole demeanor practically begging now.

Simmons sighed, “I think I’m going to regret this.”

With Volleyball and Kai on the other side of his property in what had constituted his house proper picking up what he had specified from there while Kai loudly demanded to know “What the fuck are you going to do with an antique toaster, old guy?” because she clearly didn’t understand the importance of eccentricity in science or good toast, that left Sarge and Doctor Emily Grey to rummage through the building that had served as his workshop and laboratory.

Doctor Grey didn’t mind the assigned task, thinking it rather cute actually that the older man was so transparent in wanting to spend time with her. After she had boxed up another set of spare robot limbs (one could never really have enough of those), she thoughtfully glanced around at the organized chaos.

“So this is where you lived and worked before.” Grey murmured, not knowing quite why she had always pictured his home being in the middle of a constant battlefield. The more rural colony of Blood Gulch was certainly different from her imagination.

“Yes indeed!” Sarge joined her in looking over his workshop rather fondly, “Spent most days right here in this lab with Lopez for company and Donut as a far too nosy neighbor.” He sighed sadly all the same, “Though I think he just hung out here so often because the alternative wasn’t too appetizin’.”

That piqued Grey’s curiosity, but she knew better than to try and pry into someone’s personal life when they weren’t even around. She made a quick mental note to see if Donut wouldn’t like a session later. She hummed, “Did you always live on this world, or…?”

It was hard to tell with Arenians, honestly. They had been forced into a nomadic lifestyle back when they were more or less still considered humans. Many still traveled in Arc Ships, but others had settled into their own colonies or had integrated into other peoples’ societies. Like this colony world, for instance, since Blood Gulch’s population seemed predominantly human and Elvari at a quick glance.

Sarge’s look became even more nostalgic, “I used to live on an Arc Ship for a time before settlin’ down here.”

She could hardly picture a man as full of life and bloodlust as Sarge “settlin’” for anything. Instead of saying that, however, she decided on more neutral ground, “I’ve always found your people’s story quite fascinating.” Grey explained.

A subspecies of humans, Arenians were descended from Earth’s first attempts at long distance interstellar colonization several centuries ago. They had evolved quite differently due to their long exposure to space.

Sarge frowned slightly, “It ain’t nearly as glamorous or downright romantic as some like to make it out to be.” He told her, “In fact, there’s quite a few folks who are still very dissatisfied with our lot in the galaxy.”

She could understand that. Some of the other species, especially high-ranking humans, tended to regard and treat Arenians with disdain. No doubt there was a sense of constant displacement and alienation amongst their numbers too.

The dark-skinned Veroni cast a contemplative look Sarge’s way, “Does that include you as well?”

“Maybe for a time.” He admitted rather reluctantly, “But that was before I came to realize that we’re all part of the bigger picture.”

Grey smiled, “What a lovely train of thought, Colonel.”

Sarge’s face bloomed into a shade of red that she had no doubt he would have been ecstatic to see. It was good to note that his capillaries seemed to be in such excellent shape. He coughed awkwardly and looked away, “I…uh…hope everyone is doing all right and not slackin’ off.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Grey assured him, “Your plan was sound, and your continued concern is quite attractive.”

“Er…” Sarge’s voice squeaked as he stammered, and it was adorable.

“Ugh.” Kaikaina’s voice came from the open doorway that she and the blonde were now standing in, “If you’re going to start making out, let us know because I totally wouldn’t mind doing that with Volleyball too.”

“K—Kai!” Volleyball’s admonishment was belied by her blush and smile.

Sarge quickly moved away, unfortunately, his back awkwardly stiff, “Let’s…let’s hurry back while it’s still daylight!”

“You want to talk about Simmons.” Washington reiterated, looking over at Grif askance, “With me.”

Grif rolled his eyes, “Pretty sure that’s exactly what I said.”

A frown even deeper than the others before it crossed over Washington’s blue-freckled face, “Why?”

Grif shrugged in response, and figured that his best bet would be to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, “Well, he went through a shit-ton recently and it’s been kind of obvious something’s still bothering the kiss-ass, so…”

As he trailed off, Washington seemed to put the pieces into place all on his own, “You figured that his mentor might know what exactly is going on.” He surmised.

Grif simply gave him a silent nod in response, looking oddly hopeful.

Washington let out a small sigh, “I’m honestly not sure, because Simmons has become even more closed-off since Trocadero. It’s understandable.” He shot Grif a meaningful look, “Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about his past without permission first.”

Grif opened his mouth, a protest on the tip of his tongue since he was only asking because he was worried, damn it! But Washington beat him to the punch, “Why haven’t you just asked Simmons about all of this yourself?”

Grif felt his face suddenly grow hot enough to very likely burst into flames, and he coughed awkwardly while studying the ground. Unlike back on Rat’s Nest, there weren’t any cracks or dents on the sidewalk here, “That goes dangerously close into “feelings” territory.” He mumbled in way of an explanation.

Washington raised an eyebrow, “But doesn’t you asking me about it also show concern and emotion?”

“Don’t go and make things weird, dude.”

Washington sighed and shook his head, “I’m fairly certain I’m not the one doing that, Grif.”

“Stupid fucking Freelancer logic.” Grif muttered under his breath, though he quickly decided to change topics entirely before Washington could wryly remark on that as well, “Had any luck yet in getting your mech to move without help?”

It was fairly common knowledge that Washington had been visiting the now refurbished Steel multiple times a day to try to regain his piloting ability. However, clearly things weren’t going so great in that area if the frown that suddenly crossed over his features was any indication.

Grif threw his hands up in the air to stave off any potential beatings, “Never mind. Sorry I asked.”

Washington sighed, running a hand through his hair, “The results haven’t been nearly as promising as I’d like.” He quietly admitted.

Grif said nothing for a long moment before he finally shrugged his shoulders once more, “It’s probably just one of those sucky situations that needs more time.”

Washington nodded his head glumly in response, looking doubtful.

Grif sighed and opened his mouth to say something more when he paused, eyes glancing over the street and passersby. Something wasn’t right. “It feels like we’re missing something…” He mumbled, catching Washington’s attention as well.

“We might have lost Jensen and Bitters.” The former Freelancer oh-so-helpfully pointed out.

Grif groaned as he realized that he was right, “Simmons is going to fucking kill me.”

“Opening up this field for irrigation could mean a better crop output for the surrounding areas.” Carolina noted, leaning over Vanessa Kimball as she pointed to a spot on the projected map on the leader’s desk.

Kimball decided for the moment to ignore the way her heart sped up at their close proximity, pointedly trying not to focus on the sensation of the other woman’s breath tickling her neck or her hair almost falling onto her face.

They still had work to do, though she feared it was proving a losing battle. One of the few she maybe would ever want to lose.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for her, the door to the office opened just then and Carolina seemingly reluctantly pulled away as Doc entered. The Elvari was followed by two humans adorned in white and cobalt. Coloring associated with interplanetary journalism. Both Kimball and Carolina frowned at one another before glancing at the clock display.

Had they been so engrossed in working together to improve conditions on Chorus that they had completely forgotten the appointment that Doc had made with Kimball?

Kimball stood up from her chair quickly, an apology already making its way past her lips, but Doc beat her to speaking, apparently not picking up on the slipup at all, “General Kimball, Agent Carolina.” He greeted warmly, gesturing to the two newcomers, “These are the contacts that Tucker and I were talking about from back on the station.”

“Of course.” Kimball hoped that she gave off a welcoming air, “Any friends of Doc and Tucker’s are more than welcome on Chorus.”

The black-haired younger male let out an amused whistle, “Huh. Bet you that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that.”

The other human, a somewhat older female with brown hair and matching eyes, shot him a pointed look before cordially stepping forward and reaching out her hand, “I would very much like to thank you for this opportunity to start up a news service here on Chorus.”

“Of course.” Kimball relaxed slightly after they shook hands, “Information sharing is important, and it’s been far too long since anyone on this planet has had access to it outside of military and governmental sources.”

Truthfully, she had been remiss in not setting something like this up sooner. She had been rather grateful when this opportunity came up.

“Not to mention that Dylan’s last report left her without many employment options.” The young man pointed out oh-so-helpfully in his jovial voice once more.

As the journalist shot him another look, Carolina shared another small smile with Kimball before speaking up herself, “You’d be surprised at how often that lands someone on Chorus.” She noted wryly.

“Tell me about it!” Doc, nearly once more forgotten by the doorway, joined in with a small laugh.

“Yes, well, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, have I?” The human woman straightened to attention, “My name is Dylan Andrews, and both myself and my cameraman Jax here would like to serve as journalists on Chorus.”

Tucker nodded his head in understanding at Richard “Dick” Simmons’ last talking point, “I think I get it.” He frowned in concentration, “You’re saying that Strassians tend to prefer their seclusion.”

Simmons nodded back, looking rather pleased that Tucker had gotten that out of his probably long-winded rambling, “That’s pretty accurate. Strassians prefer banding together on their cluster of worlds and colonies largely because of how other species react to our pheromone output and how we give birth.”

Strassians were, after all, the only species that was known to currently exist where both genders could give birth. They technically didn’t even have a specific gender until they came of age and decided which one they wanted to be unless they chose to not do so at all though people of interspecies lineage like Tucker often were born one gender already.

Tucker looked rather thoughtful as he mulled over this piece of information, “Huh. I wonder if that’s why my old man freaked out and left like he did after getting my mom pregnant.”

Simmons sighed, looking rather regretful, “That was probably exactly what happened, unfortunately.” He told him, “Half-Strassians aren’t viewed positively on the home-worlds, even though theoretically Strassians can easily reproduce with any of the other known cultures.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a raw deal that Junior and I had lived out on the station by ourselves.” Tucker mused out loud, his frown deepening.

“It’s…it’s not all bad!” Simmons tried to put a positive spin on things even though he was no doubt failing miserably at it, “Viewpoints have been changing over the years, and several Strassians are choosing to live amongst other cultures now.”

Tucker regarded him with a rather considering look, “Like you?”

Simmons blanched at the question. His own circumstances had been a bit unusual even by his own people’s standards, though he was fortunate that wasn’t the case for everyone else. Finally, he nodded once more and sighed, “I, Wash, and Jensen are prime examples of that.” He chose not to comment on how Tucker seemed to perk up at the mention of Washington in particular, “In fact, as far as I know, I think Wash actually grew up on Earth.”

Tucker blinked in surprise, “Really?” He asked.

Simmons nodded, “He learned a lot about his own heritage through his extended family, apparently.” The redhead recalled, smiling slightly to teasingly add, “In that way, he’s kind of similar to you.” Tucker smiled at the notion, and Simmons raised an eyebrow at the rather unexpected reaction, “What?” Maroon’s pilot asked, not getting the joke.

“It’s nothing, dude.” Tucker assured him before softly admitting, “Maybe I am slightly relieved to know the playing field is more even than I thought.”

Simmons stared at him rather questioningly in response, and Tucker coughed abruptly, “So what made you and Jensen leave then?” The teal-wearing man asked in order to change the subject.

Simmons frowned, “Her story isn’t mine to tell, Tucker,” he informed him before glancing at the ground and clenching his hands at his sides, “And mine wasn’t exactly a decision I had much say in.”

Tucker looked at his uncomfortable body language in open surprise, “So had you even wanted to leave then?” He asked carefully instead.

Simmons gulped on air, “I…I’d always been curious about what existed beyond the Strassian home-worlds, but my family always had other plans in store for me.”

…Some much more upsetting and awful to dwell on than others.

“Maybe whatever happened that got you off-world was a good thing in the long run even if from the sound of things it was still majorly shitty.” The dark-skinned man told him carefully, “Just like how when I had first bonded with Aqua.”

Simmons frowned doubtfully but said “Maybe.” all the same. He decided a prompt subject change was in order to avoid drifting back into too many nightmarish memories of forced helplessness and caretaking, “Is there anything else you’re desperate to know about Strassian culture right now?”

Tucker regarded him carefully, “Just one thing.” He coughed awkwardly, “Is it normal for us to try hiding when our bodies have made the change to have babies like how you’re doing?”

“Wh—what?” Simmons felt his brain go numb.

“I totally didn’t get the memo in that case, but it’s cool.” Tucker paused as he stared at the thoroughly bewildered Simmons, “Holy shit, you mean it’s just a weird nerd thing?”

“I…” Simmons gulped and tried again, “How?”

Tucker scoffed, “Come on, dude. I have a kid of my own. I can pick up the signs readily enough.”

Simmons’ voice went into high-pitched territory, a crescendo of incomprehensible words leaking out of him in a panicked spree that left little room for something as mundane as breathing.

Tucker was close to panicking himself, given the unexpected reaction, “Don’t worry! I totally know how to keep a secret like that!”

Simmons’ mouth thankfully clamped shut, and the red started to dissipate from his cheeks as his lungs filled back up with air. He was still trying to figure out how to respond when the two lieutenants suddenly reappeared once more.

“That food was great!” Palomo told them joyfully, “You should try it too, sirs!”

Tucker glanced at a further calmed down Simmons before he smirked in response, “Oh yeah? Maybe we should grab some before we head back.” He frowned a moment later, “But I still have to shop for souvenirs for Junior, Caboose, Sheila, Lopez, and the others!”

“Lopez was created here.” Simmons couldn’t help but woodenly remind him to further calm his own still rushing thoughts.

“Doesn’t mean he still wouldn’t want a coffee mug, dude.”

Simmons didn’t even bother reminding him that Lopez was a robot with a helmet for a head as he and Palomo hurried off on their gift shopping adventure.

“Are…are you all right, sir?” Matthews asked him in concern.

And because he knew that Matthews had been through an ordeal recently himself, Simmons pushed his feelings away and smiled encouragingly, “I’m fine. You and Palomo have been doing a great job, by the way.”

Matthews’ smile was bright and somehow painful to look at all the same.

Katie Jensen managed to track Bitters down into a store when she caught sight of him looking at something on display by the window.

The object turned out to be one of those high-tech armbands used to measure and record vitals when exercising. She immediately recognized why it had caught the young man’s attention when she saw the yellow woven into the middle of it.

“That looks nice.” Jensen remarked as she joined him.

Bitters started, apparently not having expected her to catch up to him so readily after he had tried giving the Strassian girl the slip. His cheeks darkened slightly at having been caught.

“Are you planning on getting it for Matthews?” She gestured to the armband, “Since he’s always so eager to do those running exercises?”

Matthews always tackled them with such gusto even as everyone else gasped for breath behind him.

Bitters sighed and turned away, “Not really.” He muttered, his expression darkening, “It would be fucking awkward now, wouldn’t it?”

“Only because you’re making it that way.” Jensen told him plainly.

He glared over at her and she continued before he could try and argue, “You aren’t doing him or you any favors by avoiding him so much, Bitters.” She stated again what all of his friends had been trying to tell him over the last couple of weeks, “Whatever you think you did wrong, Matthews never viewed it that way.”

“That’s just because he’s a trusting idiot.” Bitters said softly, even though there was an odd note of fondness to his words, “You all are.”

“Maybe,” Jensen could give him that at least, “But it had taken Simmons’ and the others’ help for me to get there.” She didn’t let herself linger on her own memories for too long, “I’d like to think we could all help you get there too.”

Bitters scoffed doubtfully, just as Grif’s voice called from outside, “All right, the two of you have ten seconds to get out here before you’re grounded!”

“Seriously?” Washington responded to the human’s threat incredulously.

Jensen smiled, “Coming, sirs!”

She opted not to say anything when she glanced over and saw Bitters trying to discreetly buy the armband while he thought her back was turned.

Everyone made it back to the ship just as it was starting to become dark out, standing with their procured goods in the hangar for the moment as Four Seven Niner prepped for takeoff.

Tucker was quick to make his way over to Washington, “So how did shopping with the fat-ass and teenage grumpypants go?” He joked.

“Better than expected, actually.” Washington’s gaze landed off to the side where an apparently blushing and nervous Palomo was pulling a confused Jensen away from the rest of their friends, “What’s going on there?”

“Oh, something we’ll probably hear a whole shitload of teasing about later from the lieutenants.” Tucker informed him, shrugging, “No biggie.”

Washington looked at the scene curiously again before turning away, “If you say so.”

“Dude, I’m always right!” Tucker figured it was best to continue before Washington could try and refute that point, “It’s just like when you give someone homemade sweetwater on a holiday.”

Washington’s mouth opened to an “o” as understanding dawned over his features. He glanced at the now both blushing pair quickly, a fond smile on his face before he turned back around to stare at Tucker with a rather impressed look in his gray eyes, “You’ve done your homework.” He noted.

Tucker smirked gleefully in response, “Fuck yeah, I did!” He exclaimed, “I was totally going to be using all those nerd creds I got hanging out with Simmons on something.” He stared right back at Washington rather cheekily, “How’d I do?”

“Good.” Washington admitted, an odd warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“And there’s more to come, baby!” Tucker puffed out his chest proudly.

“Tucker,” Washington began as that damn blush only further intensified, “Did you…did you actually do something to try and impress someone else?”

Tucker’s own face darkened with a sudden blush, but he coughed and tried playing things cool still, “Well, I’ve been wanting to learn more about my heritage too, but I’ll be totally all right with both things happening!”

Washington couldn’t help but smile even more.

At around the same time, Simmons approached Grif, “How did the mission go?” He asked curiously.

“Mission?” Grif shot him an incredulous look, “It was a glorified errand, Simmons.”

“B—but since it was for Chorus, it should be treated the same as—!”

Grif raised his hand to cut off the redhead, quickly responding to the initial question to stave off Simmons’ growing indignation, “It went okay.”

Some of the pent-up nervous energy Simmons had been keeping inside relaxed at the news, “Good. That’s, uh, good. Real good. Very good.” He stammered out awkwardly, wincing at how often he was repeating the same thing, “I know Bitters can be difficult right now, and that Wash can be intimidating as all fuck but he’s actually…”

“Actually a pretty cool guy?” Grif supplied for Simmons when he trailed off, “Relax, Simmons, I can totally get why you adopted him or whatever.”

Simmons blinked, both touched by the reassurance and not quite sure if he should try to further explain the Strassian mentoring process. How much did Grif know now about how it had even happened in the first place?

Grif seemed to pick up on his growing distress and panic, because he gently rested a reassuring hand on Simmons’ bony shoulder for just a moment, “I’m okay with waiting to hear about whatever happened, Simmons, if that’s what you want.” A hopeful look shone in his brown eyes for a moment, “I just hope that you’ll be able to move past it somehow. We…we’re all here for you.”

“Grif…” Simmons had to pause to wipe away the sudden tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

A bit farther away from where they were standing, Bitters cautiously approached Matthews while the other was trying to move a large, rather unruly box all by himself instead of bothering anyone else for help.

The Arenian didn’t say a word, but Bitters helped lift the box from the other side. Even though he refused to make eye contact with the Elvari, Matthews smiled gratefully at the gesture from Bitters all the same.

Simmons turned back to Grif, emboldened enough from their earlier interaction and from witnessing Bitters’ and Matthews’ tentative first true exchange in some time. Heart thudding in his ears for some unknown reason, he thought back to what Tucker had sworn his mother used to tell him all the time was a question of great cultural importance to all humans, “So…” he began, taking in a nervous breath and letting it out shakily, “How about those Mets?”

Grif only lasted a full second before he nearly threw himself on the floor laughing, a red-faced Simmons now quite certain that he had unintentionally done something wrong.

“H—hey! Quit laughing, asshole!”

“Four more minutes and we’ll be ready to fly.” Four Seven Niner’s no-nonsense voice informed them over the communicator. Sarge had always liked how on the point the pilot was.

Both he and Grey were watching everyone still mingling in the hangar, the mood noticeably lighter now all around than it had been when they had first left Chorus. It seemed like the trip had done everyone some good after all.

As if reading his thoughts, the purple-lined Veroni next to him bumped into his shoulder amicably, the contact tingling in a very pleasant way, “Mission accomplished, I’d say.” She whispered over to him, sending the older Arenian a conspiratorial wink for good measure.

Sarge chuckled in response, and Doctor Grey’s beautiful smile became that much wider.

Suffice it to say, given how unnerving that sight could be to passersby for some inexplicable reason, everyone else pretty much stayed clear of the two for the rest of the ride home. Not that that mattered to them in the slightest.