hadriel_logs | No good deed goes unpunished

Entry tags:

gren,
rhys

No good deed goes unpunished

Who: Monster Mash (

murderpotato ) and Actual Hyperion Fuckboy Rhys (

hybridification)
What: Gren repays Rhys for previous kindness and immediately regrets it
Where: The Telltale Swag Pad
When: March 2nd-ish
Warnings: Contains Gren's foul mouth.

So, once upon a time, there was a dumb kid named Rhys who helped out an asshole monster who had a big hole torn in his side. If this was a fairytale or something, the kid would've gotten something out of the deal, because that's how stories work. Because this is real life and not a story, all he got was a pissy roommate, trails of blood in the house, and a shitty story about that one time that Gren pissed off the wrong sheriff. So, pretty much a wash on that one.

Except Gren really isn't a fan of being in somebody's debt or whatever, there are rules about that kind of thing, those really old and stupid rules that shouldn't matter but kind of do. Debts have to get paid back. It's a rule and he didn't write it and he doesn't like it, but he's still going to fucking follow it. Since Rhys doesn't get himself injured too often-- a fucking good thing, the kid should stay away from any and all fights-- Gren has to figure out a different way to do it.

It comes in the form of a small pile of that electronic shit that he likes, stacked up outside his bedroom door. Because actually giving it to him like a normal person is expecting a little much of Gren, okay.

He's not going to acknowledge it or draw attention to it, it's just there and Rhys can take it and that'll be the end of it, and Gren can just stand here and try to figure out how to work the fucking coffee pot like he does every goddamn morning. (And fails.)

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Rhys, being Rhys, trips over a toaster on his way out of his room the next morning and smacks his face right into the adjacent wall of the hallway.

He curses loudly and reaches up to rub at his forehead, while a dark laugh starts to echo in his ears- something that makes him simultaneously mad as hell and more embarrassed than he was when he figured out that 'Echonet and chill' didn't actually mean relaxing and probably shouldn't be used in relation to a guy's night in.

Rhys figures out what it was that he tripped over and leans over to pick it up, confused as to why there's a toaster (among a myriad of other things) on the floor in front of his room, like some asshole wanted him to trip over it.

Some asshole like Gren.

Which is what brings him to ignore the laughter that's still ringing in his ear and march toward Gren's door, knocking angrily.

"Hey! What the hell, man?"

Gren hears the sound of metal things falling over and the low thud of Rhys' face connecting with the wall; good job, kid. Way to pay attention where you're going, good to know that you can be taken out by literally a well placed toaster.

And then he starts banging on Gren's door and yelling. This would probably be a more reasonable response if Gren was actually in his room.

He doesn't look up from where he stands in the kitchen, still fighting with the coffee pot. He presses a button on it, one that's not labeled with anything that he understands, and it makes a weird clicking noise and completely fails to produce coffee. Fuck, he doesn't know what he expected, this piece of shit never does what he wants it to. It's like it likes Rhys better or something.

"I'm in the fuckin' kitchen, the fuck do you want?"

"...oh."

Right. Well, after righting himself and realigning his principles here, Rhys is still on a steady track to complain, and if Gren is in a different room, then he'll go to a different room to do it.

So, without further ado, he marches into the kitchen, electronic in hand and sets it on the counter with a resounding metallic clank.

"I tripped over this. Why was it on the floor?"

"Maybe you should watch where you're going and you won't trip on shit."

One of these buttons has to be the 'make coffee' button. It has to be, there can't be a coffee pot in existence that doesn't have a button to make the coffee. Gren just wants to be caffeinated, possibly with a little whiskey in there too, judging from how this morning's conversation is going, but he'll take just the caffeine for now. Is that so much to ask?

He tries pushing another few buttons, still not looking up at Rhys. The machine steadfastly refuses to cooperate.

"You like pokin' around all this weird electronic shit, anyway, don't you? So what the fuck's the problem?"

Aside from Gren's inability to a.) be social and b.) make fucking coffee.

Rhys notices that Gren is having issues with the coffee maker, but it's still slightly lower on his priority list than 'get an explanation for why his roommate is trying to kill him'.

He's still mad after the explanation, but Rhys is at least smart enough to piece two and two together and realize that maybe Gren wasn't trying to kill him after all- and that puts him in a bit of an awkward predicament, because he's still mad but now he's not sure if he's allowed to be mad.

"What do you mean, I like it?"

A pause. Rhys' brows are furrowed for a moment before he relents as the pieces click together.

"...was this a present? You left me a present?"

If Gren wanted to kill this dweeb, all he'd have to do is throw one well-placed punch and it'd be lights out for Rhys. Honestly, it would probably save him a lot of trouble in the long run if he did, because fuck knows this kid is going to be nothing but trouble wrapped up in nice hair and terrible fashion sense.

He's not real fond of the level of scrutiny that he's under, though, and the fact that he can practically feel Rhys' squinty stare combined with the incredulous tone of his voice is making the back of his neck feel annoyingly warm right about now. In lieu of a real reply, which would be incriminating, Gren gives a one-sided, half hearted shrug that could have meant anything from 'I don't know' to 'I don't care' but probably meant something more along the lines of 'just shut up and take the fucking gift'. This wasn't supposed to be analyzed or anything, they were just things that Gren had seen when he was out and thought that he would want to tinker with.

After living with him for several months, Rhys is finally coming to the realization that his roommate is not unlike a rather cranky cat. From the temperamental moods to the threats of violence, to the- apparent gifts? left on the floor like a dead bird. And while Rhys is not a fan of cats in general, Gren also hasn't genuinely tried to murder him recently, which is a plus, and he serves as general defense for the surrounding hellish nightmare.

He opens his mouth to say something schmoopy about it- something along the lines of 'you do care!' or 'I knew we were friends!' but Rhys catches himself at the last minute and shuts up, even if he can't exactly stop the shit-eating grin from blooming on his face.

"Need some help with the coffee?"

See- look at him, being helpful and not embarrassing Gren further and also being useful. People can change!

Gren's not looking at him, so he can't see the shit-eating grin on Rhys' face, but he has a pretty good idea that it's there. He's not fooling anyone right now and he knows it, but he's also not going to go and acknowledge the fact that he's being the monster equivalent of a grumpy cat leaving birds on somebody's porch.

So, the coffee. He's going to latch onto the coffee problem like it's a lifeline.

"Stupid fuckin' thing doesn't want to work. You do it, you know how to make it fuckin' do its job."

And he leaves his ill-fated post in front of the coffee machine to rummage around in the cupboards for clean mugs.

"Watch and learn."

Gren is not watching right now, but Rhys doesn't mind- figuring out the coffee machine is one of his achievements here, and if Gren wants to leave all that responsibility in Rhys' hands, then Rhys supposes that he has no choice but to just make coffee all the time. Not so different from what he used to do back up on Helios anyway.

He pushes a complicated series of buttons while Gren is fiddling with the mugs, keeping pressure on certain buttons while he taps others, and Rhys glances over his shoulder with a friendly sort of smile when he's almost done.

"Sugar and milk?"

The whole thing is too complicated for Gren, honestly, so leaving it to Rhys is fine by him. So long as there's coffee in the mornings for when he has to kill a hangover or something, he doesn't care. Rhys is officially the Coffee Brewer, it's a big responsibility.

He pulls down a pair of clean mugs.

"Nah, not for mine."

And also pulls out a bottle of Jack from the cabinet. Gren likes his coffee like he likes everything-- bitter and liberally spiked. But he fetches the milk for Rhys, too, because he can drink all the milk in his coffee that he wants.

Rhys shrugs and takes one of the mugs, serving up a healthy portion of straight black coffee, which he then hands back to Gren, before liberally dousing his own coffee in sugar and milk until it's basically a poor man's diabetic latte anyway.

He notes the bottle and blinks, his ECHO-eye glowing temporarily as he scans it quickly, before pursing his lips in a disapproving frown. He'd thought for a moment that maybe the bottle was just decorative and Gren was storing.... some other type of brown liquid that one uses to flavor coffee inside of it, but no, 80 proof, 40% alcohol by volume, approximately 700ml, whiskey for chumps, I mean seriously why not just drink cough syrup if you're gonna stoop that low-

Rhys blinks and refocuses, leaning over to turn off the coffee machine.

"I'd say it's not five yet, but I don't even think it's noon yet."

Gren and alcohol have a special relationship, Rhys. But bless your little heart for thinking that he might have something in that bottle that isn't whiskey, you sweet summer child.

On the other hand, Gren is the salty winter adult who's going to pour a generous portion of whiskey into his mug of black coffee and take a big swig of it. Tastes like alcoholism and terrible coping mechanisms.

"It's fuckin' five o'clock somewhere."

Yeah, Gren, but here it's like ten in the morning. This is not socially acceptable, and he gives exactly zero fucks about it.

Rhys can only really look at him as he does this. No judgement, but there's actually a healthy amount of judgement going on here, and he slurps his coffee down with the really annoying noise people make when they're awkwardly drinking coffee and trying not to say something.

"Just-"

Nope, he's saying something.

"-just take it easy, okay? Your liver can only go so far."

"It's been doin' pretty fuckin' fine for me."

Which... doesn't mean that it's okay, but it's still functioning, so that's something. His liver is a champion and he regenerates like a motherfucker, so what's a little alcohol going to do to him? He's pickled himself practically on a daily basis for a long damn time now, and he hasn't shown any signs of slowing down yet.

"If something's gonna kill me, kid, it ain't gonna be the whiskey in my fuckin' coffee."

It'll probably be because he opened his mouth and said something really stupid to the wrong person, but that's neither here nor there.

"I mean, maybe not the whiskey today, but the one tomorrow and the next week..."

Rhys shrugs though, because he's never really been good at being the adult in the situation, and ultimately decides to let it go.

Plus, there's the fact that he's currently hallucinating Jack off in the corner of the room, doing god only knows what, and he really should be going away soon, but Rhys is trying not to ask about why he's here in the first place. The last thing he needs is Gren thinking he's even more crazy.

"Well, whatever. Thanks for the, uh, toasters. And the helping me not-die thing. That's pretty awesome."

Gren already thinks he' s pretty crazy, but the mostly harmless kind of crazy. He mostly just seems to sort of talk to himself when he's alone, about weird shit, sure, but who's Gren to judge a guy for talking to himself?

"Yeah, well, I need you around to make the fuckin' coffee machine work."

And Rhys is like, his friend or something. Even monsters have those, or maybe it's just that Gren's been acting like a human for long enough that some humanity's sort of rubbed off on him. Maybe he's tired of being alone all the time, even if being around people gives him a headache. It's complicated, and Gren doesn't even really have his own shit sorted out.

"Can't you fuckin' fix it and make it work better? Do your programming shit or whatever."

That's not how programming works, but Gren honestly doesn't know any better.

"I really don't think it works like that."

Rhys counters, but he steps closer to the coffee machine anyway, ducking his head down to scan it. Like most of the other things in this place, it's alien made, alien operated, with quite a few question marks ringing up on his analysis.

He weighs the back-and-forth of opening it up to see what's inside, but Rhys ultimately doesn't think that he could make the process any easier, even if he does. Unless he wanted to gamble on Rhys' skill (ill advised), Gren will just have to somehow learn how to operate the thing.

He frowns.

"Maybe if we can find another one I can mess around with it, but I don't want to screw this one up if I cut an important wire or something. I also haven't interned in a few years, so 'coffee monkey' is a little under my pay grade.

But that would require Gren to actually learn how to do something, and it's already been well established that he's a bitter old man who's suspicious of all this new-fangled technology. Get off his lawn.

And, once again, Gren is annoyed that Rhys is being sensible about things. It's probably a good idea to not mess with the only coffee maker that they have, since one mistake could deprive them of coffee indefinitely. And no one wants to see Gren go through caffeine withdrawal, it would not end well.

So, next item to keep an eye out for: spare coffee maker.

He scoffs a little, though, at Rhys complaining about pay grades and status bullshit like that's even a thing that matters.

"I make sure shit doesn't eat your face, and you make fuckin' coffee. I'm not seein' how this is a bad deal."

Until very recently in Rhys' life, pay grades was absolutely something that mattered. The fact that it just doesn't anymore is enough to sour him- but in the end, Gren is still his friend of sorts, and he's still thankful as hell that the salty asshole is here, keeping the other salty assholes away from Rhys' tender internal organs.

"No, no- ! It's a great deal. Totally great. Just fine. I'm not complaining."

He nods emphatically, moving back to the counter and the jumble of machinery on the edge of it, from where he'd slapped it down a few minutes ago.

"And, you know- I appreciate the other stuff too. We're cool."

Rhys' tender internal organs are safe with Gren, but in a normal way and not a weird way like that sounds. The kid is a lot of things-- annoying, lacking in chill, almost painfully oblivious at times and kind of self-absorbed-- but he's not a bad person. He's not the kind of person that deserves to get tossed out to the wolves. Plus, he makes Gren coffee, so he can't be all bad.

"...Yeah, we're good, Rhys."

He leans against one of the counters with his coffee and nurses it a little. He's old and needs time in the morning to be capable of functioning, okay, and he's still getting used to the fact that he can have real coffee to drink instead of the cheap instant powdered shit that tastes like ass.

"And you're good, right?" He should check and be sure that Rhys isn't going to track trouble into the house like mud. "There ain't anything tryin' to eat your fuckin' face off or something lately?"

He finds himself grinning a little at the affirmation, because look at that, he made a friend. He's made a friend outside of work, just like he always knew he could, even if Gren can be a bit of a moody, unpredictably psychopath, Rhys is relatively certain that he's not going to start one of his homicidal rampages toward him anytime soon.

The question makes him falter for a moment, because- Gren cares? Like, beside the typical friend obligation crap, he seems like it genuinely matters, and Rhys rubs a hand at the back of his neck with a shrug.

"The usual. People from back home, strange alliances, trying to keep my head down."

His gaze slides to the right, where Jack is making a comment on exactly what he thinks of the state of Rhys' head. Of course, there is that.

"I'll let you know if I need anything, though. And- uh. Thanks."

'Typical friend obligation' has a very different meaning where Gren is concerned. He doesn't have too many friends to begin with, so there's significantly more effort put in on his part when it comes to maintaining them; effort like being completely willing to put somebody in the ground for coming after gangly Hyperion fuckboys, for instance. Being friends with Gren means putting up with his stupid moods, but also means that the giant murderpotato will go to bat for you whether you deserve it or not.

Gren pauses in drinking his whiskey coffee and follows Rhys' gaze when it slides away, but there's... nothing there. Just empty space.

Okay, the kid's a little weird. Possibly, like, weird in the head.

"...Yeah, just try not to get in over your head or anything."

"Will do!"

Rhys offers Gren a little salute and then wrinkles his nose at the empty space near him, before backing off from the kitchen, scooping up the remnants of his toaster along with him as he heads back to his room. He probably won't stay there for long, but now he's got some new things to take apart and look at, so he has the option of staying busy for quite some time.

Nice of Gren, really. Rhys isn't quite used to anyone other than Vaughn being nice to him, but it's- you know, pretty cool.

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No good deed goes unpunished

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