"What. The. Fuck," Simmons said the literal moment he opened the door to Grif's room. He knew that Grif's room was absolutely disgusting and wasn't surprised at all, but in all his time knowing Grif he'd never imagined such a disaster, especially compared to his own clean and tidy room. The room was painted orange, just like his friend's armor, but it looked like there were multiple stains from food, or clothes. Speaking of food... what the actual hell? Simmons didn't want to know what kind of hamburgers or salads were rotting in the deepest corners of this room. Discarded potato chip bags were everywhere he looked. The bed was lazily made- the sheets were piled on top of it and a couple of dirty socks were thrown towards the foot of the bed. Piles of clothes were heaped in multiple spots; Simmons made a mental note that in the time he'd spend here, he'd make sure to do some laundry and clean this room as best as he could, no matter how much Grif complained.
Casting a look of utter revulsion to the orange soldier laughing next to him, and clutching his sleeping bag tighter, Simmons set a foot on one of the few clear patches of the floor and wadded towards Grif's bed.
"Grif," Simmons started as he cleared some clothes to roll the sleeping bag out, "You expect me to live in a room--for an indefinite amount of time--that looks like THIS?"
"Nobody else could let you stay with them," Grif reminded him. "And besides, you didn't want to stay with Caboose or frickin' Donut. So technically, it's your fault."
"I should've accepted Caboose's offer," Simmons muttered under his breath.
"Oh?" Grif cocked an eyebrow. "I'm fine with whatever. If you want to stay with Caboose, then go ahead."
Simmons shot a glare at him but didn't move.
Grif shrugged. "Alright then. Stay if you want. Make yourself at home."
"Grif, we are home."
"I know." The orange soldier plopped down onto his bed.
Simmons cast a glance at the window. "You mind if I open the window?" he asked.
"Why?"
"You don't notice that smell?"
"What smell? Ooohhh, you mean the cheese?"
"Wh- you know what, I don't care. I just need a fucking gas mask," Simmons mumbled. He paid no attention to Grif's smirk and walked out of the room.