Artisan Tomfoolery

That wasn't true either, he stubbornly thought, arm hitching tighter around his middle as he stared into Grace's empty science room. They were on a planet of alien rocks that could hear through walls. Couldn't exactly be truly alone. And try as he might, Simon couldn't ever shake the thought that there had to be at least a dozen Eridians listening to him as they patrolled the perimeter wall of xenonite. Keeping the humans contained. Or, as Grace tried to rationalize to him, ensuring that the material was maintained to prevent a disastrous breach. Same thing.

Either way, Simon couldn't let himself relax and enjoy the solitude. It wasn't really real. And besides, what was there for him to do?

He listlessly drifted towards their eating area, which Grace still insisted on calling a kitchen, despite the fact that they didn't do much cooking there. It was where their food was stored, at least, and Simon considered raiding the pantry, simply for the hell of it. But that was pointless. He'd only be stealing from their shared resource. It was always open and available to him‒ an impossible thing to consider before he came to Erid. But Grace had always been willing to share his food. He'd never had to fight for his life for that particular resource. That led him to be…indulgent towards Simon. Always insisting he have a snack, something to eat, any time he was feeling slightly peckish. He could eat any time he wanted.

It had taken Simon a long time to accept that.

It had taken a long time to accept Grace in all of his…Grace-ness. He had no idea if it was because they came from such different lives, or if Grace was just…like that. Simon suspected the latter. Maybe people were kinder from the version of Earth Grace had come from, more generous to strangers. But Grace had to be the most kind, the most generous. No one else would share their food or open their home to someone like him. No one else would go through so much effort to make an unknown person feel welcome and secure. He could be impatient, and a bit weird, but he always took the time to explain what he needed from Simon. Grace was so smart, so lively, so amazing and mesmerizing to be around. And he made Simon want for things he knew he could never, ever have.

If Grace was faking who he really was, it was a very long con. Too long. Grace really was that kind.

And attractive. Surely that was on purpose. Whoever had sent Grace into space had to have sent the most attractive person on their planet just to torment him specifically. To plague Simon with thoughts he'd never dared even think before, almost couldn't bear to think now, even in the mess of his own mind, or the quiet of the empty house. It wasn't enough that Grace was generous and enthusiastic and endearingly odd in a way that could only be genuine. He had to be hot, too.

Now that Simon thought about it, he could take advantage of the relative privacy to jerk off. But even that didn't hold much appeal. He wouldn't feel comfortable doing that outside of the shower, where the water noise could disguise what he was doing. Besides, the thought of Grace coming home early and discovering him, hearing Simon gasping his name as he thought about pinning him to the wall and biting at his neck, that was…

Simon grumbled to himself and turned away from staring into Grace's empty lab, rubbing his cheeks to dispel the blush. That was out of the question. He really should just carry on with his day like normal, like he would if Grace was there. Simon stared sightlessly towards the small pile of repairs Rocky had assigned for him, trying to find the will within himself to do the work he should be doing. Maybe he could get lost in his work, pretending like Grace was in his lab working on his own things. If he really tried, he might be able to fool himself into that feeling of security he felt when Grace was around, his heart feeling warm and alive instead of rotten and cold. Only Grace could make him feel that, even when he was just rambling about science, or complaining about whatever experiment wasn't working properly that day, or bemoaning how tired he was and how he'd really like a nap‒

Ah.

That was a possibility.

Simon had never even heard of the concept of naps until Grace had brought them up. They sounded unnecessarily indulgent- the idea of sleeping away while there was work to do. That would never have been tolerated on Eden. Even Grace didn't partake often, no matter how many times Simon told him he could pause his work and do so.

Now that he thought about it, Simon felt he was tired enough to perhaps…nap. Go to sleep and hope that when he woke up, Grace would be back. Grace would be back and he wouldn't feel like he had when the sub had dropped out from under him. The world fallen out beneath him. Reality sinking in. The walls closing in around him. Buckling and bleeding and‒

Don't think about it.

Frowning to himself, Simon trudged across the room and up the short staircase to their sleeping quarters. At night it was pleasantly dark, but during the day it was bathed in warm light from the windows, shining on both their beds. That was another thing that had been an alien concept to Simon‒ having his own designated sleeping area, that would still be his the next night, and he wasn't expected to take his things with him when he left it. They'd still be there when he wanted to sleep again.

Grace's bed was neatly-made, completely opposite of his usual careless clutter. The quilt that covered it was a beautiful thing, a patchwork of colors and images blending into a cacophonous but coherent whole. Simon could see how each piece had been sewn together, either by machine or carefully by hand. A few seams had come loose due to constant wear and use, revealing the soft padding inside, and one of the binding edges had come completely loose. Grace had sat him down and explained how each image on it was a different Earth culture's version of a sign of good luck, and Simon had to hold back the strange emotion that built up in his chest as he listened to him.

Thinking about a group of strangers across a doomed planet who had contributed their time, skills and resources to create a quilt for their equally doomed savior. As a gesture of thanks, a gift of comfort, decorated with dozens of symbols of good fortune. Giving what luck they could to the man who was sacrificing everything for the slightest possibility of sending back help.

They didn't know that someone else was sitting on that bright beautiful quilt. Someone covered in the blood of hundreds. Thousands. Too many to count. Someone whose hands left bloody prints all over the colorful fabric. The blood was still dripping off of him. Filling the room. Covering everything in red. He couldn't escape. The blood‒

"Stop it," Simon growled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His breathing was harsh in his ears, heart pounding like he was drowning‒ "Stop," he gasped, clenching his fist, crumpling inwards into himself as he nearly collapsed under the suffocating weight of his memories. "Just. Fucking. Stop." Stop thinking about the sub, the blood, the everything. It wasn't there. He wasn't there. Not anymore.

He was in the home he shared with Grace, safe inside a temperature-controlled dome full of perfect clean atmosphere just for them. He was in their room, where he could sleep safely, where no one could touch him. He was on Grace's bed, he realized belatedly, his hand clutching the quilt tightly. Simon quickly let go, smoothing the fabric back down to check for new tears and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw there were none. His chest felt less tight, his heart no longer pounding and thoughts no longer threatening to overwhelm him. He was safe.

He still didn't have Grace, though.

Simon hesitated, then bent forward to remove the quilt from beneath him. Still sitting on the missing scientist's bed, he pulled the blanket close to his face, closing his eyes and burying his face in the soft fabric. The bottom layer was worn by many years of covering Grace while he slept, and it felt like the softest thing he'd ever touched. Simon took a deep breath, smelling a trace of the other man beneath the faded scent of the soap they both used. He didn't bother to hold back the noise he made as he fell sideways, collapsing on the bed to rest his head on Grace's pillow, pulling the quilt up with him. It was all so soft, so warm and comfortable, and for a moment, Simon let himself indulge.

He imagined that he was allowed in that bed, that he belonged there, was wanted there. That Grade had welcomed him into his bed, as kind and eager as he always was, instead of being annoyed and disappointed that Simon was taking up his space. He imagined Grace slipping under that beautiful quilt with him with a smile, pulling it over both of them and covering them in colorful warmth. Then Grace would put his arms around him and pull him close, his body pressing up against his and‒

That was too much. Even for his own imagination.

Even if Simon desperately wanted it.

Simon didn't know when he slipped away into sleep, but he did know when he woke up that someone was too close to him. He lunged upright, heart racing and arm swinging, but lucky for both of them, the one who woke him up was aware of that tendency of his, and was sitting safely out of range.

Unluckily for him, Simon realized with a sickening jolt, it was Grace sitting on the end of his own bed, where Simon had very obviously been sleeping under his blanket and using his pillow.

Shit.

"You're back," Simon croaked, throat still thick with sleep. He tried to pull the quilt closer but it was pinned in place under Grace, and he quickly gave up so he didn't risk ripping it. Grace didn't seem to notice, slumping forward with a sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses loosely held in his other hand. He looked exhausted, Simon noted. Tired and not actually that upset at finding him in his bed.

"Yeah," Grace confirmed, hand moving to scrub over the rest of his face. "Yeah, I know I said I'd be a few days, but, I, uh‒" he chuckled to himself. "I'm exhausted but couldn't sleep. Like I literally couldn't. And it's not because they were all watching me‒ I'm used to that, you know?" Simon quietly nodded. That was also something he'd had to get used to. "The makeshift bed was fine too, and I'm just…so tired. But I couldn't sleep." Grace dropped his hand, finally looking over towards him. "I just…really wanted to be back here."

"Oh," Simon muttered, flushing with embarrassed guilt. Grace had come all the way back to his home, drained and desperate for sleep, and instead found Simon had taken over his bed. He should leave. Get out of the bed, out of the house, out of the dome, even. Leave and not come back until Grace was gone again, no matter how much he had missed him and wanted to be there with him. Simon slid his legs around under the quilt, trying to extract himself without kicking Grace, but froze when Grace caught him by the ankle. "Grace‒"

"I missed you, too," Grace said, staring straight forward. In the low light‒ how long had he been asleep?- Simon could see his cheeks were shining pink. Grace's thumb gently rubbed over the ball of his ankle bone, tender and familiar. Even though Simon could barely feel it through the quilt, he felt himself growing warmer, his cheeks probably turning the same color as Grace's. "It wasn't…any of those things that made it so I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking of you here, alone, and I, uh…" he sighed. "I had to come back to you."

God.

Simon couldn't muster any words to say, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as he stared at Grace. Everything felt so unreal, like he was still dreaming, but the pressure around his ankle was real and grounding. Grace's eyes flicked over to him, a small smile appearing on his face when their eyes caught. He squeezed Simon's ankle, sending warmth flooding through him again. Damn Grace and his touches and his smiles, making him feel things that he couldn't handle. His chest felt unbearably tight, aching with the longing to crawl over to Grace and curl up in his arms. The words Simon didn't dare say strained at his throat, that flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm and drown him just as surely as the blood ocean would.

Before he could move or say anything Grace nudged his leg further back across the bed, a clear instruction to make room. Simon shuffled backwards, watching with wide eyes as Grace shifted sideways and laid down on the bed with him, pulling the edge of the quilt over his side. "Is this okay?" Grace asked, as if Simon wasn't the one in his bed, hogging his precious blanket. Simon nodded, holding his breath as Grace settled down on the same pillow his head was resting on, their faces barely apart. "Do you have enough support for your arm, or should I grab another pillow?"

"It's fine," Simon choked out, shifting to better even out the weight on his stump. It ached a bit, but nothing he couldn't sleep on. Grace was so damn close, they were practically already touching. Simon couldn't help reaching for him, his hand crossing the space between them before it stopped, right at Grace's side. Don't touch him you're covered in blood don'ttouchhimdont'ttouchhim "Is this…can I‒"

"Yes," Grace answered immediately, almost eagerly. Simon swallowed his terror and slipped his shaking hand over Grace's side, finding the spot between his ribs and hip bone and coming to a rest there. Grace sighed, his breath trembling as he visibly relaxed, melting into the bed. "That's good," he murmured, eyes slipping shut, a blissful smile on his face. "Oh, that's good, Simon."

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could hide from the way Grace's words made him feel. He couldn't see it, but he felt when Grace's hand touched his wrist, following the line of his arm to his elbow and up to his shoulder, reaching for him in return. So gentle and careful, as if Grace didn't want to hurt him or scare him off. Simon shuddered when Grace's hand tugged on his shoulder, a silent request he was helpless to obey. He shuffled closer, right into Grace's space, fitting into the space beneath his chin, right up against his chest. Closer than they'd ever been before, coming together like two broken pieces, finally made whole.

Grace was so warm. He was so warm and holding Simon close, not enough to be suffocating, but so sincere, humming in the back of his throat like that was exactly what he wanted. Simon felt like he was dying again, but in the best possible way, like it would all be fine if he finally just let it go. He finally did, pressing himself into Grace's embrace like he always wanted to. And Grace didn't shove him away. Instead he pulled Simon closer, tucking him in tight, breaking the fear clogging his throat, finally giving way for the words he thought he'd never speak.

"Grace," Simon choked, his hand spasming against Grace's back until he caught hold of his shirt. "You don't know…how much I…wanted this," he gritted out, still braced for the worst, for the inevitable betrayal. For the blood to rise around him‒

"I can guess," Grace murmured sleepily, humming as he rubbed his face in his hair. "Probably as long as I have, too." He made a noise like the one Simon had been fighting to hold back, and another one when Simon tightened his arm. "I'm so glad you're here, Simon."

Simon groaned and slumped forward until his forehead came to rest in the hollow of Grace's throat. He didn't know how it had happened, but he was right where he wanted to be. Grace was in bed with him, held tight in his arm, solid and real. He was there and was holding Simon close, making him feel so comfortable and safe, so warn and secure. Grace was back, he'd come back just for him, and the feeling that flooded through Simon was breathtakingly overwhelming in the best way. He wanted more. He wanted to feel more of that feeling, more of Grace, more of what was growing between them. Maybe…maybe he could hope for more of that.