When Gracie Met The Grump

by Mariana Zapata

“You’re not going to die,” he snapped.

It was almost enough to make me smile. He really wasn’t heartless, was he?

“Why are you in such a good mood now anyway? Because we’re somewhere?” “What makes you think I’m in a good mood?” “Because you’re talking to me.”

“Go to sleep. Nothing is going to happen unless you keep annoying me.”

He might be a protector of mankind, and he might have a heart under that prickly exterior, but he was a pain in the ass too.

“You went through something traumatizing, but you’re going to be fine, you hear me?”

“Do you always snore, or is there something wrong with your sinuses?” a familiar voice called out. I hadn’t even realized my mouth had been cracked, but at his words, I pressed my lips together and dragged my hand off my face.

His was smooth and even, but the sarcasm in his tone said everything. Somebody was back. From the sound of it, I must have not been the only one who had been feeling rough around the edges, if he’d contained the crabbiness until now. Was it the meal? Was it actually getting sleep? I was almost impressed.

And I guess it was nice that some things were back to normal. Normal for us. Even though I hadn’t exactly been in a talkative mood the last few days, it had been weird to say so little to each other considering we were joined at the fucking hip.

Which reminded me, had I felt the mattress shift while I’d been asleep? I’d swear I had. But maybe I had imagined it.

“Was I really snoring though? You didn’t complain the other nights.” He didn’t reply. The fucking liar.

So was it just the food that made him feel better? That made sense, I guess.

He didn’t need to be my best friend or anything. Being regular friends was good enough, even though we were more like “friends.”

Taking care of one of the most famous people on the planet, getting kidnapped, waterboarded, getting sick, and now extreme camping with no money or IDs or friends to call for help.

“Is it hard not to destroy people like that?” He sounded dead serious as he replied, “It makes me feel better to know I can.”

“Did you see the Trinity flag?” Alexander huffed. Fucking hypocrites. I hoped he got a flat tire.

“Do you just like to argue for the sake of arguing, or did I do something to you in another lifetime that I don’t remember?”

I wasn’t much better than him in the first place, I knew it. Hadn’t I been giving it back to him just as much as he’d been dishing it? Hadn’t it made me secretly smile too?

“I’m letting the Bogeyman in tonight,” he threatened just loud enough for me to hear him. Was that… a joke? Was he fucking joking?

Friends didn’t kill friends.

“Yes, ma’am.” It was Alexander who replied easily, his own tone almost as friendly, and not like he’d been shooting me imaginary murder daggers a second ago.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” the man I was clinging to replied. I glanced at the back of his head, at all that dark hair that I’d had my cheek pressed against for countless hours, surprised at his acting skills.

“They were so polite. We couldn’t just ignore them.” He snickered. “Yes, we could have.” I swear…. “Do you not have any manners?”

“I have manners.” “In your dreams maybe,” I muttered. That got me another murder-glare that wasn’t all that scary.

“Are you done pretending you don’t have someone we can call for help, or are you finally going to give me a number we can call?” His bottom lip dropped maybe a millimeter, but I noticed it.

He wasn’t the only observant one. Sucker.

“You know a bunch of different languages, you remember everything, and you pay attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have an eidetic memory. There’s no way you forget phone numbers. Something broke your back, not your brain.”

To give him credit, his lip snapped back into place instantly. But it was his glowing eyes that almost made me smile as he narrowed them at me. “Yes, I know a fucking phone number.” Aha! I’d known it. The...

But the thing was, it made no sense. If he had someone to call, why hadn’t he from the beginning? Why ...

I blinked. “Did God give you strong bones because he knew you were going to have a personality people wanted to hurt?” I snapped. “What’s the number?” He huffed. Did his lip tilt up a little?

I tried handing him the receiver. He didn’t take it. He lifted that snobby, perfect nose at me. “You talk to them.”

Is this because they wouldn’t let him come home without her??

“You want me to talk to them because you might say something that makes them not want to help us, huh?” The fucking look on his face was classic.

“I have… Alexander here with me”—whoa that felt weird saying it out loud like that to someone—“and he asked me to call you. We’re in a bit of a, uh, pickle.” Crickets chirped in the background. Not really, but they should have. Peeking at the man in front of me, I was surprised to see him looking oddly calm. Apparently, his name wasn’t a secret to whoever Agatha was. Then it hit me. Was this someone special? He’d said he wasn’t married, but….

“Alexander?” the woman asked after a moment, his name coming out clean and way too crisp. She knew exactly who I was talking about. “Yep. Tall, his favorite color is, uh, blue. He thinks the f-word is an adjective and has an attitude… I’m kidding,” I said when he gave me a dirty look. I wrinkled my nose and whispered to him, “She won’t believe me if I tell her you’re nice,” I teased him, trying to get back at him for all those dirty looks and tones.

Whether he was more surprised over my description or she was, I would never know. What I did know was that there was another long beat of dead silence before she coughed, and it alm...

Then she replied, “Can I speak to him?” The man in question shook his head. I lifted my s...

Alexander shook his head some more and replied, I don’t want to. Oh boy. I threw him under the bus. ...

That was definitely a snicker, and I highly doubted it was in surprise. “We’ve been concerned about him for a few days now,” she replied, still sounding crypti...

“He says he was the victim of a hit and run,” I said, still looking at him closely. Because what the hell kind of code words were those? A hit and run? What’d he get hit by? A fighter jet?

“For me,” I told her. “I’m sick. I’ve been sick.” She had to hear it in my voice. Just because my throat hurt less didn’t mean it sounded that way. “I see,” she said, sounding even more perplexed. “I think I understand. I’ll make a few calls, check on who can get out there. It might take me a few hours.”

The deep sigh that left Alex’s chest had me instantly glancing toward him in surprise. “You okay?” I asked. “Relieved?” “I won’t be relieved until I’m home.” Home.

It was the fact he wanted to feel relief that got under my skin, but I wasn’t about to ask over it.

“Do you care?” “I get to choose?” “No.” That’s what I thought.

Now, I was doing exactly what I’d been raised to avoid—depending on someone, telling them the truth, just fucking talking to them in the first place.

“If you get tired of having me around, you’ll tell me? With time, so I can make other plans?”

I knew secrets about The Defender, that I doubted 99.9999999 percent of people would ever know. That meant something. It had to.

And there must have been something in the expression I gave him right back because he blinked. “Don’t start,” he grunted. I stared at him. He pointed at me. “No.” I kept staring at him. Alex narrowed his eyes even more.

“I grew the same as you,” he told me with… was that a smirk?

“You know,” I said cautiously, trying to read him, “I think I liked you more when you grunted at me all the time.”

“Just… stuff that will probably sound dumb to you. You can just make fun of me now and save me my breath.” He didn’t say anything for so long, I looked at him. Alexander looked stunned. “I wouldn’t make fun of your dreams.”