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Grif did not like being woken up in the morning. It didn’t matter that today it happened with singing instead of a shotgun.
It was probably not fair to call it singing. Donut had tried to sing but Sarge’s rough complaints had been louder, Lopez had been saying something in Spanish but it sounded too monotone to be a song, and Simmons had just shaken his shoulder and said, “Hey, fatass, wake up.”
“What?” he’d asked with his face against the pillow.
“You’re late. Wake the fuck up.” Simmons retreated from the bed but suddenly peaked his head into the room again to quickly add, “Oh, and happy birthday.”
It had been more than enough reason to be suspicious. His birthday the year before hadn’t been celebrated, unless you counted Sarge’s doubling his laps around the base as a cruel birthday gift.
When he entered the kitchen things only seemed to get weirder. And since the everyday level of weirdness in Red Base was already pretty high, it was rather hard for Grif to ignore this new absurdity.
He grabbed his package of cereal, peaking inside to make sure Simmons had not tried to replace the colorful loops with the sawdust-like grains again. Sarge was doing a great job of ignoring Grif to the point where he was just staring at the wall – which was actually kind of nice, if not just plain amusing.
Donut was in the corner of the room, glaring at Grif with widened eyes and a stupid grin on his face. He even let out a giggle, before his hands immediately flew up to cover his mouth.
Oh god, they had something planned.
And Simmons, the bastard, had that sly smirk on his face that Grif would have loved in any other occasion except now where the cheeky smile definitely meant something was going to happen to Grif.
“What?”
Simmons’ pokerface was as shitty as always. “Nothing,” he said, sounding like a stuttering teenager denying the fact that his voice was breaking.
Grif shook the colorful cardboard box. “Is the cereal poisoned or something? Did you put something stupid in the bottom?”
“There’s already something stupid in the bottom,” Simmons snorted distastefully. “It’s the reason why you wanted that sugar-glazed shit in the first place.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“It’s a kid’s toy made of plastic. Yeah, I’m sure you needed that fake-ass diamond ring.”
Yet another thing Red Team just failed to appreciate. Kai had loved all the plastic crap, and she had been the main reason Grif collected them in the first place. Oh, and of course the fact that sugar was one of the few ways to kickstart his brain in the morning.
“’least it tastes better than your shit,” he grumbled and poured some heavenly sweet loops into a bowl.
“At least I won’t die from a heart-attack.”
Grif went for the milk. He swung the fridge door open and a big, round, beautiful, stunning chocolate cake was revealed. Its delicious brown glazing seemed the sparkling in the cold.
He immediately shut the fridge door close with a motion so loud that Donut eeped in surprise.
“You’re all fuckers,” Grif declared and grabbed handful of cereal so he could chew with his mouth open.
Simmons sent him a displeased glare – the chewing thing worked flawlessly as always. “Are you seriously getting mad over cake?”
“What have you done to it?” He could still hear the chocolate cream call for him so he opened the fridge slightly to take an extra look. Red Team had taught him never to trust cake – it was just an opportunity for Donut to dress up. Grif shuddered at the memory. “It’s not big enough for Donut to fit in – yeah, I just realized what I said. Would someone please cut off my tongue?”
“With pleasure.” Sarge waved a pair of tongs, and Grif once again had to regret his words.
He sent Sarge a telling glare and then turned around to check for any ambush – his team was definitely up to something. He came face to face with Simmons who could not help his shitty grin.
He looked just a bit too pleased with himself – something that happened rarely with his bad self-esteem – which had to mean that this whole thing was about Grif’s flaws. Just great.
Then Lopez entered the room, no emotion evident, of course, but someone had glued a pointy party hat on the top of his helmet. “Get this dreadful thing off my head.” [Saca esta espantosa cosa de mi cabeza.]
Grif took that as the final sign to flee.
“Yeah, I’m getting out of here.”
“Aw. But Griiif-“
Ignoring Donut, Grif went straight for the doorway – only to get tackled to the floor. Suddenly he had his arms full of little sister. It was a mess of black hair and dimples.
“Happy birthday, big bro!” she yelled with her face close against his.
He grunted before getting off the floor. “Oh, get off!” He looked over his shoulder to see more guests arrive in the base. “Why are the Blues here? Why aren’t you acting like a trigger-happy madman?” he asked Sarge, noticing the suspicious lack of shotgun.
“I was ensured this would lead to proper torture of Grif.”
“Say what?” Grif whined. He turned his head to stare at all his teammates for confirmation.
Simmons calmly waved off their Sergeant. “We’ll get to that.”
“I was promised cake,” Caboose let them all know, and now Grif definitely believed something was wrong with the sweet treat – no way Sarge would pass an opportunity to poison the Blues.
“And we were promised utter and complete ridicule of a Red. So everyday business, really. Did anyone bring popcorn?” Church marched into the room with Tucker right behind him. They both seemed a bit too smug for Grif’s liking.
“Someone’s looking like they want to party. Happy birthday, dude.”
Grif looked at all the happy (or at least not pissed off) faces, and his bullshit meter started beeping. Loudly. “…Right. Where’s the twist?”
“What twist?” Simmons said, trying his best to sound oblivious. Too bad his best didn’t mean much. His attempt to act casual was so bad he had to cough awkwardly afterwards.
Grif rolled his eyes. As the room started to feel more and more crowded, he crossed his arm and faced his Red teammates. “Since when do we celebrate birthdays?”
“Don’t speak for Blue Team. I wish we didn’t celebrate birthdays.” To empathize his point, Church sighed deeply.
Tucker ended up explaining, “Caboose gets very eager when it’s Church birthday.”
“I baked the cake.”
“And that’s how we lost our kitchen. So, yeah, we’re also here to eat your cake. Let’s get started.”
“Fuck yeah! Cake!” His sister grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the table that Simmons had quietly prepared during the chaos. The chocolate cake was placed in the middle of the scenery before she shoved it towards him. “You first.”
He pushed the plate away with a distrustful frown. “No way. Last time Red Team had a birthday cake I ended up with nightmares for weeks.”
“My performance wasn’t that bad!”
“Oh my god, are you a stripper?” Before Donut could answer, Kai had already turned to Tucker, “We should totally have hired a stripper!”
The Blue shrugged. “Well, you’re the only girl here so… Grif, stop aiming your gun at me, we haven’t started singing yet.”
“We’re not singing,” Simmons declared briefly but sternly. He leaned back in his chair but never truly managed to look relax due to how his eyes were darting around.
Grif knew what was going on. There was only one reason the others would spend time on a gathering like this – they were obviously aware of his secret and now came the torment.
“Did you tell them?” he asked his sister who just grinned at him. Traitor.
“You’d expect me to forget your birthday? It’s the only day you actually allow me to party.”
“Yeah, Grif, she told us all what a big day it is!” Tucker had this awful smug smile plastered on his face. “21, huh. Can’t believe you were keeping that a secret. Of course it made it easier for us to pick your gift. Here you go, your very first drink. Be careful not to choke.”
He handed him a green-tinted bottle which Grif grasped as if it was a lifeline. This alcohol was honestly the high point of his day so far.
At the other end of the table, Donut let his head hang. “I feel so bad for all my wine and cheese hours I convinced you to participate in. You should have told me you were not ready!” He looked absolutely distraught as he lifted his head to look at Grif. “I peer pressured you into breaking the law!”
“Peer pressure is awesome! Let’s drink!”
Kai tried to pry to bottle out of his hands but he pushed her away with his elbow.
“Stop it.”
“Red Team has been such a bad influence!” Donut continued to sob. “Your poor youth and innocence!”
Grif just had to snort at that point. “Sure, Simmons has been a bad influence on me.”
“Sarge, you’ve cursed in front of him!” Donut realized with a gasp. It might only be a little while before he fainted from the horror.
As the pink soldier continued his lament Church eventually had to clear his throat. “Hey, we were promised a party.”
“And cake,” Caboose added helpfully.
“Grif torture!” Sarge added with a shout.
Tucker glared at the bottle Grif was clutching protectively against his chest. “So let’s open the fucking bottle already!”
“Language!” Donut shrieked.
“Do you know how hard it is to get something that doesn’t taste like Caboose’s shitty orange juice? I’ve been saving that baby for years.”
Grif managed to push Tucker away. “Who the fuck said anything ‘bout sharing? You just gave it to me. It’s mine.”
“Don’t be an asshole.” Tucker then turned his head towards Donut and told him gravely, “His manners need improvement.”
Donut just nodded sadly.
It had begun. The teasing Grif had desperately tried to avoid by keeping his age a secret. It was not his fault that he had just turned 18 when the draft claimed him. The others had actually had a chance to live a little before joining the army (except Sarge who claimed he had been born into the Red Army? However that worked??) and so surpassed him with some years.
“And I’m the asshole,” Grif snorted sarcastically and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. This revelation would keep the assholes busy for weeks.
Tucker elbowed him in the side. “Not our fault you’re young and not so innocent.”
“Fuck the draft.”
“So, are you still growing?” Church said. He sounded a bit too amused at the possibility that this could be true.
Simmons huffed, “You mean, gaining weight? Because in that case – yes.”
Grif flipped him off. At least he had his bottle. He might have actually thanked the Blues for the gift had they not been asshole. He forced off the cap by slamming it against the edge of the table with practiced ease. Alcohol was a quick way out of this misery.
Kai nudged his shoulder again, making grabby hands. He shoved her away with his palm. “What did I just tell you?”
“But we always share.”
“Brat.”
“Oh great, the kids are fighting again,” Church complained loudly.
“No!” Caboose yelled and then Grif almost died when two powerful arms wrapped around his chest and squeezed. “No fighting on birthdays! Church said so.”
“Actually, I said no teamkilling allowed- Heh, I just realized you’re younger than Caboose and that’s funny.”
Caboose’s eyes widened in excitement.
“No,” Grif told him sternly, not even a hundred percent sure what he was trying to prevent. But when since it was Caboose it would probably end in disaster no matter what. Eventually, still trapped in the hug, Grif just let his head hang. “I hate this.”
At the sight of his misery, Sarge leaned back in his seat and let out a satisfied huff. “Turns out this event is worth the dirty smell of Blues.” Watching Grif squirm in Caboose’s embrace made him add, “Donut, get the camera!”
Kai looked up at her trapped brother and laughed. “This is awesome!” The brat had the nerve to then proceed to eat his slice of cake in front of him.
“Just because we’re on different teams doesn’t mean you get to hate me.”
“Stupid. You’re my Big Bro – hatred is just included from birth.”
“Thanks.”
“It would help if you’d just let me taste-“
As she reached for the bottle, Grif let out a fake gasp and exclaimed, “Donut, are you witnessing this attempt to break the law?!”
It worked immediately. Of course it did – Grif’s plans were clever that way.
Donut jumped from his chair to put his hands on his hips. “Young lady, I think you should consider the consequences of what you’re trying to do.”
At this point Grif had managed to wriggle himself free and claim the bottle again. Kai was too busy staring at Donut to notice. “Oh my god, are you giving me a speech?”
“You’re supposed to bang your glass,” Tucker reminded them dryly.
“Are you a cop?!”
Grif dealt with the growing chaos by taking a big gulp of his gift.
Donut gasped, just about to answer Kai’s question-
-when Simmons cut him off with a sigh. “No, that is not a cue for Officer Hot-Pants to appear.”
Kai had jumped from her seat. “Who called the cops?! Snitches suck! There’s no recording, you can’t prove anything!”
“Having fun yet?” Tucker asked when he noticed Grif’s sour expression. He poked him with his elbow until he got a response.
“I feel ooold.” Grif slammed his face against the table and decided that he hated birthdays. “Fuck, I’ve wasted my best years stuck with you guys.” He took another gulp of his gift. It didn’t even taste that good.
“Wow, you handle the strong stuff well,” Tucker said after watching him swallow. “Most people sputter the first time. Dexter Grif, have you been drinking underage?!”
Either Kai did not pick up on the irony or she just really wanted to see her brother suffer. Could be both. “He has. He threw up the first time.”
“What happened to ‘snitches suck’?” he asked her sourly. It was not a secret that he drank (though until today it had been a secret that those times had technically been illegal) but he would rather not relive his memory of his first time drunk.
“Meh. Payback for your vomit on my new shoes, bitch.”
“That was years ago.”
“Don’t admit to the crime – cops don’t understand sarcasm! You taught me that!”
True. But only because he had been forced to teach her how to not piss off the policemen in the area. “Telling a cop to go suck a dick didn’t count as sarcasm in the first place.”
“Wow,” Church said after listening to the argument, “role models are just everywhere this canyon.”
“We led him astray!” Donut wept again.
“I’m not hearing any of the sobs I’ve been promised.” Sarge considered his words and then added, “Besides Donut’s.”
Grif doubted his gift would last the rest of the day, barely even the hour, with the amount of liquid running down his throat right now.
“Yeah, and where’s that awesome party we were invited to? ‘cause this is just a lame gathering.”
Church comment was shrugged off by Tucker, “Whatever. We can just forever gloat of the fact that Grif is younger than Caboose. Tough luck, kiddo.”
Grif’s eyes narrowed but he knew better than open his mouth. It would only feed the fire. Maybe in a week or two, they would have forgotten this episode and returned to mock Simmons for his ability to quote fifty-seven numbers of pi – which was, in fact, not cool but only made you a nerd.
Caboose gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “He just needs to grow a bit. You can try again next year.”
Oh well. Despite the obvious ulterior motives he could not deny that this gathering of assholes was better than running extra laps around the base. Plus right now he had (hopefully) poison-free cake.
Grif allowed himself to huff in amusement before turning to face Simmons who had been sitting quietly at the end of the table. “What? You didn’t bring me any presents? I’m hurt.”
Simmons rolled his eyes. “Well, we didn’t really have shit so we let you sleep two more hours before waking you up. We figured that was a gift in itself.”
“You know, I can almost respect that, Simmons.”
The party continued until the afternoon where Kai’s colorblindness was brought up and she asked which color was the best, resulting in Sarge to begin his glorious speech to which Church of course had to defend him team, and then the shotgun had appeared. Caboose had stolen Lopez’ party hat before leaving and Kai had given Grif a big hug before snatching the leftovers of the cake.
When the Blues had left, Simmons tried to bring up Grif’s young age again, trying to tease him about needing a bed time which only resulted in Grif demanding to be released from night patrol to sleep instead.
With Simmons stuttering and frantically trying to talk his way out of this problem, Grif could almost enjoy the loss of his secret.
And later that night when Grif found a vintage Blade comic book that mysteriously appeared under his blanket and when Simmons’ voice mysteriously broke as he denied having anything to do with it, well-
-the day had maybe not been that bad after all.