Heyy!!

“Oh—uh yes. Sorry.” I watch as his hand drops to his lap as he refocuses on the screen of the little laptop. Only moments later I see him try and rub at his side again. I can tell he’s trying to be silent after alerting me to his itching.

“Okay. What's wrong?” I sigh with a grin. He looks up at me again but continues his scratching.

“Nothin’. Just itchy.” His eyebrows furrow together as he moves his hand to the other side of his torso and starts scratching more.

“Very itchy, statement.” Rocky adds from across the ship. “Annoying.” Simon rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Yeah…you’ve been doing that for minutes on end. Clearly it’s not ‘nothin’.” I turn my body to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s my gills. They just itch. I don’t know," he mumbles as he pulls his hand away but then starts moving his elbow back and forth against his side. I stifle a laugh at the shimmying motion he makes, and he flicks his eyes to glare at me.

“Sorry, sorry!” I hold my hands up in defense. A frown makes its way to his face as he goes back to using his nails. 

“It just won’t stop.” He grimaces while shifting uncomfortably, rubbing his back against the pillows under him. Although he’s never let me touch his gills, I do know they wrap around his back.

“Doooo you want me to take a look~?” I know my voice comes out eager, too eager, and he frowns in my direction again. Sue me, the man’s got gills. What scientist wouldn’t want to have a little look? 

I’ve asked before and have gotten hard “no”s in response, but I haven’t given up yet! I can help but be curious about how he ended up like this.

“Is good idea. Help Simon make less itch noise.” Rocky’s voice has a hint of annoyance to it as Simon just huffs again. They both have become almost like bickering siblings over time. Although a little bumpy at the start, Simon and Rocky's dynamic has become very entertaining.

A giant smile grows on my face as I do my best at giving another grown man puppy eyes. He frowns more, staring, but keeps shifting side to side against the pillows. Shame be damned, I even clasp my hands together like I’m praying and bat my eyelashes at him. 

“God, fine. Stop. This is sad to watch.” He relents, grumbling with a sigh.

“Yesss!” I quickly get up and reach a hand out to Simon to pull him up and towards the lab. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I, of course, put on gloves and sterilize everything. I have a little cart full of supplies I may need placed right next to me; I can’t be too prepared. I’ve been waiting to get a proper look at Simon’s mutations the moment he got on this ship, and it’s finally happening! The man won’t let me touch him in general, so this moment is great progress!

I glance up at him, and although he doesn’t express much emotion in his face, I can tell he’s nervous. His shoulders are tight and turned inwards, which makes him look small while the end of his tail flicks nervously.

We’ve stationed ourselves on the table under Armondo, and Simon is perched on the edge, absentmindedly kicking his feet.

“Relax. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do before I do it.” I try to give a reassuring smile, but my excitement overshadows it. I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arm up and out.

"Okay," he breathes out. “I just don’t like people dissecting me.” Well, most people wouldn’t.

“I’m not gonna dissect you, I promise.” I reassure myself as I pull up the tee and gasp immediately.

“Ew.”

“Ew?” He repeats from behind his shirt.

“Ew but fascinating," I smile.

“Gee, thanks, Grace. That's really helping with my body image.” An amused chuckle leaves my lips at his comment.

Long strands of something that looks like mucus stick to his shirt, connecting to his gills. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice wavers a bit as he shifts on the table.

“Your…slimy?” 

“Slimy?” 

“Like sticky, I guess.” I pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head, careful not to get any more of the foreign substance on the rest of his body.

He looks down at himself and makes a face at the goo. 

“What is that shit?” He wastes no time reaching down to his opposite side and presses a finger into it and pulls away. It looks thick and coagulated and has a slight green hue to it. “Nasty.” 

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling your itching and rubbing probably made it come out.” I grasp his wrist and pull the mucus-covered finger closer to me. 

He suddenly shoots his finger in my face, and I jump back. “Ew dohon’t you dare!” I lean away from his finger as a smirk makes its way to his features.

“What? Just helping the scientist get a better view is all.” Evil snickers leave him as I bat his hand away. It's nice to see him be a bit playful.

“I don’t need your help, thank you.” I hold a hand out, and he gently places it into mine. I grab a towel to wipe off the gunk for him as he hums a thank you.

“Okay, I'm gonna touch them, alright?” Simon nods. The motion is small, almost reluctant. I move my hands towards his side and immediately notice how tense he is. Every muscle is tensed, like he's bracing for something painful.

"Hey," his eyes flick to mine. “You can tell me to stop.”

He stares at me for a second and then nods again. I don't think he fully believes me and that realization hurts more than I expect.

My fingers hover near the nearest gill. Up close, they're stranger than I expect. So thin. Delicate. Way more delicate than the rest of Simon. Just as I'm about to touch, they close. I pull my fingertips back, and they open again. Once again, I try to reach in, but it closes before I get the chance.

“Uh, Si? Could you stop doing that?” I pull back as they open again.

“I-I can’t help it.” He squirms. “It’s just happening.” 

I hum in thought for a moment. “Okay…try to cover your eyes.” 

“What?” He looks at me confused, and I can tell he’s getting anxious again. I know this is a big ask for him; he’s quite vulnerable right now, and asking, ‘Hey, could you also make it so you can’t see me, either?’ is going to be hard for him.

“Simon, you can trust me. I’ll stop when you say so, okay?” His eyes squint at me, like he can't quite tell if I'm lying.

“Okay.” And he hesitantly reaches his hand up to cover his eyes. I glance down and see his body has instinctively closed his gills once more. He’s clearly bracing himself for whatever I’m about to do, but I stay quiet and still. Slowly I see them flutter open again as he relaxes and I reach down to hook a finger underneath the lowest gill on the side without an arm, pulling it open slightly.

I flinch as an honest-to-god screech rips itself from Simon's mouth, but I keep my finger latched on. I hold as still as possible, slowly glancing up to Simon’s face. He looks just as shocked as I am but with a smile plastered across his face.

"Uhhh, Simo—“

“Second human okay, question?” I hear Rocky frantically ask while scuttling down the hull. See, Rocky does care as much as he says he doesn’t.

Before I can ask or respond, soft, quiet giggles start spilling from Simon’s lips. His hand is firmly latched on my own but not moving or pushing, just holding it still. His other gills tighten, and I feel the pressure as the one I’m touching tries to do the same.

Rocky has made it to us and has climbed next to Simon, on the side I’m currently touching. He clicks and taps his leg.

“Simon ticklish, question?” 

Oh. Ohhhh.

My finger twitches, and he lets out a squeak with more laughter. I realize this is the first time I've seen a smile this big on him. It completely changes his face. Usually Simon looks worn out. Guarded. It's like he's waiting constantly for something bad to happen. Now he's laughing so hard he can't hide it. The sight sends a weird flutter through my stomach. I decide that's probably just relief.

“GRAHACE! I-I dohon’t knohow AH—WHAHAhat tohoho dohoho!” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head rapidly.

“Um, just try and hold still so I can at least get a look inside.” A bewildered smile grows on my face, and I grab a little flashlight and hold it up close to the opening.

“Oh gosh. Simon…” It looks extremely gunked up in there. 

“Very bad.” Rocky leans close, clicking more to get a better look. “Why leaking, question?”

“WHAHAhahats wrohohong?” His body starts to twist and pull itself away from me. 

I remove my finger, leaning away as my mind races.

“Do the gills on your neck itch too?” I question as Simon takes in deep breaths. I peel off the dirty gloves and start putting a new pair on.

“Yeah, buhut not as muhuch as these ones.” He gestures to his ribs and sighs. “Why?”

“It is, like, very very clogged and congested in there.” I say while trying to think of theories and remedies at the same time. “How long has the itching been going on?”

He looks away. “Twenty-three days.”

“...You counted?”

"Yes."

“Simon! Why didn’t you say anything!?” I point an accusing finger at him. I really thought he would have trusted something like this with me at the very least.

“It’s my first time with gills; I don’t know what’s considered normal!” He scoffs.

I guess he has a point.

“Do you feel sick, like a head cold or anything?” I reach up and feel his lymph nodes for any swelling. His pulse pitter-patters against my hands as I feel around his flesh, careful to avoid his gills on his neck. I notice how his eyes shut and he shifts his chin up more. 

“Not at all.” He looks back up at me with worry, eyes blinking. He sure doesn’t sound nasally or anything.

“Open your mouth for a sec.” He hesitates but does as he’s told. As much as I want to take a look around the mutated parts, I decided now’s probably not the best time. I hold his tongue gently out of the way with a finger while shining the flashlight at the back of his throat. 

“No redness or swelling, and I don’t see mucus running down the back of your throat either.” Crap, I was really hoping a simple cold would be the problem. At least it would have been an easy fix, but now I don’t know what to do.

“Disgust. That happen to humans, question?” Rocky settles himself next to Simon, a claw resting on his thigh, I'm assuming in comfort.

“Yeah. All that stuff is connected in human bodies, so it was very possible that could have been it…but I don’t think it is. You don’t look sick or sound sick.” I pull my fingers from his mouth with a sigh. I take a few steps back and start to pace in a circle.

I need to think about this from a different angle. Simon isn’t really a human anymore, biologically speaking. What would cause just his gills to get congested? No. He is human. I think that’s the issue.

I feel Simon staring. Not glancing but staring. I've learned the difference. Most people look but Simon studies you. It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle that nobody else can see. Solve you.

He starts to scratch at his sides again, getting the substance on his hand. I walk back over to him and stand still in thought for a moment.

“Stop that.” I swat at him, and he grumbles with a frown. 

“Hm. I have at least a theory and a possible solution.” I take his hand and wipe it off again, scrubbing under his nails.

“Let’s hear it. Not much else we can do.” He looks away and into his lap. 

“I think it’s because you're not actually using your gills.” His eyes quickly meet mine again. 

"Yes, I do? I breathe through them, too, along with my face holes.” I smile a bit.

“No, no. You're not using them as gills. Like in water or, for instance, a blood ocean.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you were in some sort of liquid, the constant filtering would keep your gills clean and free of debris. You don’t have the chance to do that, so it gets all goopy in them. Bodily mucus that normally would build up would wash away, keeping bacterial and fungal growth in check and such. On top of that, dead skin cells and environmental debris could also cause irritation, leading to infection.” I try my best to explain to them.

“But how come I haven’t had any difficulty breathing?” 

“Like you said, you’ve just been only breathing through your face holes instead.” I slip off a glove and press it to his forehead. Yeah, I think he’s warm. I grab a thermometer and hand it to him. 

“Under your tongue, please.” He complies, his eyes crossing as he stares down at the thermometer in his mouth.

He looks ridiculous. Kinda of cute, actually. 

…

Anyway—

“Good theory. Make sense.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at Rocky’s praise, hoping it comes up my expression form my previous thoughts.

I hear a beep and pull it from his mouth. Yep. He’s got a fever. 

“Well… I think it confirms at least some of my theory. You got a fever. I have a feeling your gills are infected.” 

“Bad bad bad.” Rocky anxiously taps his claw against the table, noticeably shifting closer into Simon's side.

“What can we do?” Simon’s voice shakes slightly.

“Well, Armondo will give you the best antibiotics he has, and we’ll try to clean out as much as we can.” I walk over to grab some supplies from a nearby closet and then a cup of lukewarm water.

“How are we gonna do that?” He calls after me with a frown.

I walk back up and show him a container of Q-tips with a sympathetic look. 

He glares down at the supplies, then glances up at me. “I don’t—is there another way?” I see a smile start to fight his way into his lips as he hugs himself.

“I don’t think so, Si.” He scoots away from me. I really don’t want to do this either, even if I find it very scientifically interesting and endearing on his part. I was hoping that when I finally got a good look at his gills, it would be his choice, not something he had to do. 

“Look. I know you know you're very sensitive there. The only way I’ll be able to clean all 12 of your gills out is if you sit still, and we both know you won't," I firmly try to say while sounding soft. “Rocky, I'm going to need your help with this.” 

Simon’s head flings to Rocky. “Wahait, wait! Why don’t we juhust see if the antibiotics work?” He pleads, now shifting away from Rocky too.

“If we don’t clean it out, it will stay infected.” He looks giddy and desperate and nervous at the same time.

“Why can’t we—“ 

“Simon. “If the situation gets worse, I don’t know how or where it could spread through your body. You're a medical phenomenon, and there is only so much I can do with the knowledge we have.” I reach out and pull his head to my chest with a chuckle. “I can’t let you die on me because of an infection.” I can't fathom losing him now just after I found him. Maybe it sounds selfish, but after thinking I was never going to see and touch another human being ever for the rest of my life, I'm desperate to cling to him with everything. He says I saved him, but I really think he saved me too.

I smile despite myself when his fingers curl into my shirt. Such a small thing, barely a tug. But Simon almost never reaches for people first with affection. The fact that he's doing it now makes my chest feel strangely warm. I pretend not to notice the small action. He’d probably let go immediately if I pointed it out.

“I know.” He mumbles into me as I stroke a hand through his hair.

“How Rocky help, question?” Rocky stands up and stretches a little.

"You're going to have to hold him still. He’s gonna squirm a lot.” Simon huffs in response but doesn’t deny it. “Lay back on your side. We’re going to do the one on your left. You won’t be able to fight me as easily.” 

He’s gone silent but does as he’s told. Rocky stands over him, pressing his carapace into his torso below his gills, effectively pinning him. A claw grabs onto Simon's hand to hold it still while his other holds his shoulders. His back is pressed into me; he’s facing away from me.

My eyes wander to his back and tail. Fleshy spikes grow from his spine; they almost look like cartilage, but maybe firmer? And then there's his tail. I've never seen how it actually connects to his body until now. The spikes along his spine follow all the way down his tail until the end. 

His body really is amazing. 

Wait. Not like that.

…Scientifically.

…

Mostly scientifically.

I rip my eyes and now blushing face from his back and notice he’s started squirming already, and I see a grin pull at his features. His body trembles as I continue to prep my area. 

I grab a Q-tip, soak one end in the water, and get ready to start, but then I see Simon has closed his gills again. Right.

“Rocky, can you spare a hand to hold the flashlight? I’m going to need to hold his gills open.” Simon tensed up more at my words. I pass the light to Rocky before looking back at his gills.

“Yes. Right here, question?” 

“Yes, perfect!” But his gills have yet to open again. “I need you to calm down, Simon.” I giggle a little while looking over his side.

“I’m trying!” It comes out frustrated, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

But after a minute they don’t open. After 3 minutes they still haven't opened. We're unfortunately going to have to pry them open. I grab a pair of tweezers that are specifically rounded off at the end. I carefully slip it under the skin's fold, and Simon jerks hard with a squeak. I push it up, opening the flesh, and I’m once again looking at how horrible the buildup is. 

“Okay, I'm starting. Simon just…try your best?” I really don’t know what else to say.

I push the Q-tip in and start wiping across the filaments, careful to not press in hard or damage any tissue.

“EEEAHAHAA—WHAHAHAIT!!!” Simon screeches from below me. His legs are kicking out wildly already, shifting underneath Rocky.

“R-RYLAHAHAND—HA-NOHOhohooo *SNRK* EAHAHAHAHA—!!!“

I try to gather as much mucus as I can and scoop it all out at once. I pull out the rather large mass and place it aside, and what do you know? I can see white, pus-like substances mixed with the other goo. I knew it; he does have an infection. 

I grab another Q-tip as Simon is shrieking under me. I can actually see the pinkish red color of his insides now as I swipe across the flesh, gathering the last bits I can see. I think that should be good.

“FUHUHUCK RYLAhahand! EEK—WHAHAIT!!!”

 I pull back, and Simon heaves, going limp, and Rocky eases up a little. 

“Second Grace very loud. Very ticklish, statement.” Rocky comments and gets a groan from Simon in response.

“How was it?” His face is beat red, but I can feel a slight gust of air pushing through the gills I just cleaned. Thank goodness cleaning it out seems to be helping.

“Fucking terrible. What do you think?” he mumbles, and I watch as he shoves his face further into the table. 

"Okay—well, I'm going to start on the next one, okay?” I try and soothe as much as I can as I press into his side again.

“SHIHIHIT! I-IT TIHIhihickles—*snrk* nohohoHOHO—!” His tail started to thump against the table as Rocky scrambled to hold it down and out of the way. I pull away as the claw holding the light falters a little as Rocky struggles to keep Simon down without hurting him. I feel him twist as he rolls onto his back.

“No. Simon stop twisting over.” Rocky scolds while rolling him easily back over and pinning him on his side. 

“Actually, could you roll him on his stomach? I need to get to the parts that wrap around his back.” He trills out an acknowledgment while he starts wrestling with Simon again.

“NOHOHoho nohohot thehere—oof!” Rocky not-so-gently flips him over and sits on his lower back, and I feel air being forced through his gills as Rocky knocks the wind out of him. His tail wiggles wildly toward the end, where Rocky can't reach as his legs desperately kick out. I pull Rocky's claw back over to reposition the flashlight. 

"I'm sorry, bud.” I scrape some more at the filaments and pull the rest of the grunk out, careful to hold the skin open gently. 

I see and feel his body shiver beneath my hand. Goosebumps race across his skin, the reaction immediate. He lets out a squeal and arches his back as I hit a particular sensitive spot. His muscle jump as his tail gives another loud thump against the table.

“EEAHAHAHA AH—OKAYOKAY I-I NEEHEhehed AHA BREHaheak hahahe…hehe…” I chuckle, pulling away. 

I decide to test my luck and gently run a hand over his back. The tension doesn't disappear immediately. At first he lies there breathing hard and I finally feel his shoulders drop a little. His tail stops thrashing about and the muscles under my hand loosen one by one. Like he's realizing that I'm not actively torturing him anymore. Simon lets out a sigh, sinking back into the touch. I avoid the spines running down his back but lightly draw my nails over the skin on either side. 

After a moment I ask, "Ready for round two?”

"No," but he nods yes, relinquishing his hand to Rocky again and bracing himself.

I start the process all over again with the others.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I finish wiping clean his skin, feeling the ridges of his gills along his middle. He's still squirming and giggling slightly, but I can tell he's drained. Rocky climbs off of him and pulls him upward into my arms.

I wrap my arms around him before he can decide otherwise. Simon practically melts. Just enough for me to feel the tension slowly draining out of him. His forehead bumps against my shoulder. For a moment he simply sits there breathing. Safe and exhausted. I run a hand through his hair. Then again and again. Each pass seems to pull another ounce of tension out of him. I see Rocky do the same and rub soft circles into his shoulders, letting out soft hums.

"I'm sorry, Si.” I chuckle but only get a weary sigh in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I'll live…I think.” I feel him snake his arms around my middle, pulling me closer, and I can't help the blush that dusts the tips of my ears. Simon's hair is sticking up everywhere, curls messy and tangled. It would have been funny if it weren't weirdly adorable. 

“Y-you know we still have to do the ones on your neck, right?” He pulls away just enough for him to stare into my face. His eyes are glassy with tears and he's got this shocked and pitiful expression. I guess he forgot he had the other gills. 

“Okay. Let's do those ones tomorrow. How's that sound?” His body relaxes back into me with another sigh. “But you can't back out; they need to be done, Simon." I get just nods in response. I card a hand through his thick hair, hoping it soothes his nerves.

"We're also probably going to have to do this regularly. Like a monthly cleaning type of thing.” He tenses up again. "It's just going to get infected again, but hopefully, if we keep up with it, cleaning regularly should be quicker and easier on you than a ‘deep clean’ like today or tomorrow."  

“Okay.”

“And you have got to tell me if you start itching or hurting at all in the future! I don't want a scare like this again.” He squeezes my middle more and I notice his tail sway softly from side to side.

“I promise, Angel."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I’m lying on the floor on top of blankets and pillows with three little babies surrounding my head. They're feeling around my facial hair, curiously following it around my face. Tiny claws comb through my beard with surprising care, occasionally snagging on a knot before immediately backing off again. I close my eyes and let myself relax into the attention. At this point, I completely accept that being treated like a very strange pet is just a part of my life now. I feel them graze my lips, moving upwards into my mustache. Excited hums emit from them.

I carefully open my jaw to speak again, “It’s hair, like on my head. It does have a bit of a different texture though.” I feel two climb up onto my chest while one stays against my cheek on the pillow, following up towards my ear. The two follow it back down to my chin, scratching lightly. When Rocky told them I like to be petted, I swear that’s all they do now, not that I’m going to complain.

I feel a few claws travel down under my chin, close to my neck, and I freeze. My heart beat quickens, and I know the pebbles notice too. They quickly stop their movements, trilling out concerningly. 

“Ah-it’s okay! Juhust tickled a bit.” A smile creeps onto my face, and I peek my eyes open. “It’s okay.” They don’t make any more movements, actually pulling back a bit, settling on my sternum. I’m sure they can feel my heart better through my chest in that spot.

“Aw, guys, it's okay, really! You didn’t do anything wrong.” The pebble by my cheek pulls back too. I open my eyes completely, moving my head up a bit. I shift to sit up, cupping my hands around the two babies on my chest so they don’t fall. I lower them into my lap and help the other pebble, who’s on the floor frantically trying to join them.

They sit unusually still in my lap. Normally they're constantly moving. Twitching. Clicking. Climbing over each other. Now all three are quiet. Oh no. They probably think they hurt me. I’m sure hearing another alien's heartbeat skyrocket out of nowhere is a little scary for them.

“Here. Look, I’ll show you what you did.” I scoop up a tiny pebble. They’re a deep blue color with specks of gold and have lines and swirls across their body. It settles in my palm as I reach a finger towards it. It grabs on lightly and squeezes.

I push my finger underneath their arms and scratch ever so lightly. Rocky is quite ticklish here, so I’m hoping it’s the same for them. The pebble makes a high-pitched squeak and frantically starts squirming. Adorable chirps and trills erupt from them as the other two in my lap start pulling on my shirt. I lower my hands to their level, letting them get a better look.

“I know you guys have a version of tickling too, though it’s different from what I’m doing right now. You guys use sound waves and vibrations, right?” I flip the pebble in my palm, its little legs scrambling in the air. I press into its underside, making its legs shoot out straight; I can’t help but laugh at the little action.

"Well, humans use touch. It works for you guys because I can still make vibrations with touch that travel to your fleshy insides. Human skin is ticklish, so that’s why when you guys touched me, it tickled. Humans are just ticklish on their necks, where you guys ended up touching. See? No harm done!” I clarify to them.

I tap on its tiny body, showing what I just explained as the little baby erupts into high-pitched trills, pushing at my finger. From what I can tell, tapping and drumming seem to work best with Rocky; they are more intense than the ticklish vibrations produced by normal scratching and touching.

The other two look on curiously while the third one flails and cackles. Its arms slowly seem to stop fighting, and I take that as my cue to slow to a stop. God, they're adorable!

I glance down and ask, “How are you holding up? You okay?” On closer inspection, I see little wisps of steam coming from their vents, making me chuckle a bit. I carefully plop it back into my lap, and the other two scuttle up around it.

I see one brown pebble with red markings poke at the blue one, making it jump with a squeak. I hear a tiny hiss as more steam comes from it.

“Hey, hey, let them be for a moment!” I reprimand the one who is poking the other as I scoop them up. It goes still in my grasp as I begin poking at its brown carapace. It, too, squeaks and squirms, pushing at my finger.

“Yeah, let’s see how you like it when someone pokes at you.” I giggle, pretending to use a stern voice. I poke gently along as it squeals, curling into itself. Well, that won't do.

I use the thumb of the hand I’m holding it with to push an arm out of the way and hold it trapped against its body. I’m going to try something that gets to Rocky all the time. I flex two fingers together and, every so lightly, flick at the open space between its arms. It all but screams, sounding between a flute and an oboe, its arms scrambling to the spot. Seems to work on all Eridians, not just Rocky. That’s good to know.

I stop and let it fold in on itself again. Tiny giggles continue spilling from it as it curls up in my palm. 

“There you go,” I murmur. I run a finger along the top of its carapace, nice and gentle. The same way Rocky likes. The frantic squeaks slowly shift into a soft hum. Its little claws unclench one by one until it practically melts against my hand. Cute. I place it with the other two, and I see the third go rigid. 

“I won’t tickle you.” I say with a snort as I push my glasses up my nose, and it visibly relaxes. Unfortunately for the little milky white quartz pebble, the other two didn’t seem to find it all that fair that they were the only ones tickled, and I watch the start of a tickle fight in my lap. Squeaky trills erupt from the third as the other two surround them, using what I just showed to tickle the other. I can’t tell if they are also using sound to tickle them on top of the physical touch, so I ask.

“Are you guys also using sound? It’s kinda mean to do both.” I hunch over them a bit to get a better look. They stop their tapping, and the other baby stops moving. Oh, so they're not using both. But I’m assuming, as a demonstration to me, I hear a chord start. I look around and see the quartz pebble and the blue one start to squirm and laugh as the brown baby stands triumphantly between the two. The chord gets louder, pulling squeals from the other pebbles.

I laugh, “Okay, I see. Now give them a break! They look like they're about to combust!” I point out the steam emitting from the other two. I hear the sound slow to a stop, and they cuddle together in my lap. I lean back on my hands, stretching my spine.

A noise catches my attention, and I look back down. The little Eridians are making grabbing motions, so I give them my hand.

“What?” Confusion laces my voice. They all grab at my hand, pulling my fingers out. They start tapping like I did to them, and I snicker.

“No, it won’t really work there. And tapping isn’t all that effective against humans.” They sound disappointed and start letting go of my hand. 

“Wait…” I bite my lip. I’m not sure it’s the smartest idea to teach them how to tickle me, but…their sad little chirps get to me. I’m too much of a softy to disappoint them.

“Um. Okay.” I push my legs out straight and scoot back against the nearby couch. I pull them up closer to my hips, and I feel my cheek get warm as I pull my shirt up to my neck. 

“Try here.” The words leave my mouth before I can reconsider them, or rather the consequences that will come from them. They shift their carapaces towards my stomach. “Uh.” I gesture towards my stomach anyway. “For humans, scratching, squeezing, and tracing, I would say, works best….” Listing off everything they would need to know.

I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation, but I don’t feel anything. Peaking out, I see they seem to be hesitating, arms reaching out but not touching. Oh right. My heart beat.

Anticipatory giggles worm their way into my words, “L-look. Humans' hearts beat fahast at all kinds of stimuli. It dohoesn’t always mean bahad. It could be that I’m really hahappy, or really embarrassed. Or, like right now, I’m excited and nervous—b-but nervous in a good way!” I correct, biting back a smile. “It’s just, tickling gets to me particularly hard.” I glance away, a little flustered.

I feel them shift a bit, and I look back down. I watch as the three carefully press little claws into my stomach, making me flinch a bit and giggle. “Hehaha gohohood! Lihihke thahat.” This seems to encourage them, and they push in more, experimentally squeezing at the muscle and skin. I shoot up, trying my best to keep my squirming under control. I tightly grip the collar of my shirt as I hold it up while shifting my other hand, trying to keep it busy and not grab at the pebbles. 

I hear excited trills and squeaks come from them as they tickle me to pieces. “Seehehe nohoHOT *SNRK* SCAHahary!” I feel myself start to slide down the couch slowly and try to plant my feet into the floor. The pebbles add more arms and explore other spots. They pinch and tweak at my sides, making me jump and fidget. I force my free hand down to my side but up enough that the pebbles still have access to the sensitive skin. One latches onto my hip, making me squeal.

“EEEAHAHaha—thahahat tihiHICKLES! NohoHO!” I start to twist about, not being able to sit still anymore. Another pair of claws grabs at my other hip, and both my hands shoot to my face, covering my blushing face and smile. My shirt ends up rolling down, but it does little to deter them. They just push it up and keep pressing in. They vibrate with excitement, hearing my loud laugh as a sign of encouragement.

One pebble presses into my belly button, and I all but scream while my hands shoot down to cover myself. 

“WAHAHAIT—NOHOT THEHERE!” They shift back out of the way of my hand. I cover the sensitive spot while curling into myself. They all freeze immediately. The excited clicking stops, and their tiny bodies huddle together. I swear they somehow manage to look guilty. Great, I scared them again.

“Uhuhm—I-it’s okahahy! Juhust sehensitihive.” I force my arms up again, deciding to grip at the couch behind me. “I-I wahasnt reheheady for it. You guys can keep gohoing.” I sheepishly say. “...If you guys want and are still curious.”

I didn’t need to tell them twice. They immediately return to my tummy, scratching at the sensitive spot again. I guess because it gave the best reaction, they want to experiment more. I squeeze my eyes shut hard, kicking my feet behind them.

“EEHAHAHA—G-GAHA—GOHOHO TOHO A-ANOTHER SPOHohot PLEHEHEASE! GUHUYS!” I shriek, holding on to the couch for dear life. They suddenly stop tickling again, and I'm thankful, of course, but I thought they would keep going. I open my eyes to see them shift around and angle towards the door. 

Still giggling, I ask, “Whahats wrohong?” I glance at the door. I don’t see or hear anything for a brief moment until a sudden knock rings through the house. Before I can even say anything, the door is being opened, and Rocky and Adrian are walking in. Excited trills erupt around me as all three immediately turn their attention towards the Eridians.

“What Grace doing, question?” They both stop in their tracks and "stare." I feel a blush climb up my neck.

“Uh… j-just teaching the pebbles about human anatomy.” Rocky taps one of his limbs in annoyance.

“…Grace lying. What Grace doing question?” He asks again. Before I can argue that, actually, I kinda was technically teaching, the babies take the opportunity to show what they learned.

“GAH—wahahait! Lihihittle o-ones!” They dig in while I start squirming again. My arms fly to my face to shield me from Rocky and Adrian.

“Oh. Grace teach tickling, question?” Adrian trills out with a giggle. They both scuttle up next to us and settle on either side of me. The babies excitedly click and squeak out to the older Eridians.

“What else pebbles learn, question?” Rocky asks with a playful tone. 

“D-dohont—“ I plea before they once again scratch at my belly button, making me screech. I feel Rocky grab onto an arm threatening to grab at the pebbles, holding it down and out of the way.

“NAHAHOHO AHAHEHE—STOHohoHOP I-IT! DOHONT ENCOHOURAGE THEHEM!” My free hand lightly pushes and swats at their little claws. Adrian and Rocky let out squeaky laughs, making me blush more.

“Don’t encourage, question? Grace the one who teach pebbles tickle. Not Rocky’s fault.” Well. He does kinda have a point, I guess. 

“OKAHAY *SNRK* OKAHAY, NOhohoHO MOHOHOREHE—!” I curl up the best I can as their arms come to a stop. Rocky lets my arm go and grabs the pebbles from my lap. I take the opportunity to slide all the way down to the floor and roll onto my side. Adrian wraps an arm around me and pulls me close so my back is leaning against them, and I close my eyes in content. 

“Pebbles have fun, question?” Rocky asks as I peek through half-lidded eyes, smiling when they erupt in joyful trills. I feel Adrian start to rub at my back, and I sigh.

"Grace have fun, question?” Adrian asks quietly as Rocky plays and talks with the pebbles. 

“Yes.” I smile and look up at Adrian. “They were good. They're very cute, full of energy.” Adrian takes another claw and pushes my hair up out of my eyes. Their claws carefully comb through the messy strands as I feel myself sink further into them.

“Adrian glad.” they say softly. I hear a squeak, and both Adrian and I shift toward the others.

He burst through the door like the apartment was actively on fire.

“Jeongin!! What the hell is wrong?!”

Hair wild from the wind and the frantic drive, uniform jacket half-open, chest heaving. Eyes scanning every corner for blood, broken glass, an intruder—anything.

Jeongin was standing in the middle of the room in an oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, hair fluffy and unbrushed, looking very much alive. And very much not bleeding. Not even a little bit.

He lifted one hand in a tiny wave.

“…Hi, hyung.”

Seungmin paused, hand still on his gun, eyes scanning the room for any intruder. Nothing.

Seungmin stared.

Then dragged a gloved hand down his face so hard the leather creaked.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Jeongin at least had the decency to look a little guilty. "I saw this lip balm online. And I couldn't find it. So I called you because my hyungie should be able to pick it up for me after shift right?"

“You sent me a nine-one-one level text… for a lip balm.”

“I said please!”

“You’re unbelievable.” He groaned. “You made me think you were bleeding out. Or kidnapped. Or on fire. Or all three at once.”

In one fluid movement—years of training and probably too much pent-up frustration—Seungmin tackled Jeongin backward onto the couch. The cushions wheezed under their combined weight.

Jeongin’s arms flailed for half a second before Seungmin caught both wrists in one large, gloved hand and pinned them above his head against the armrest. The boy's eyes widening in panic. “Hyung, wait—wait wait wait!!”

Seungmin’s free hand hovered for a dramatic second, fingers flexing like a villain in a drama, then dove straight for the soft dip under Jeongin’s ribs.

The scream that ripped out of Jeongin was immediate, high-pitched, and utterly devastating.

“HYUNG NOHOHOHOHO!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Jeongin thrashed like a fish on dry land, laughter exploding out of him in helpless waves.

Seungmin’s voice dropped into something low, teasing, almost sing-song, the exact opposite of his earlier panic. “There is a serious emergency now, Jeonginnie.” His fingers spidered up under the hoodie, scratching lightly over the sensitive skin just above Jeongin’s waistband.

“Turns out Jeonginnie is way too ticklish~ How can Innie be this ticklish?? That’s dangerous. That’s a public safety hazard. I should probably arrest you for it.”

"PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHOHHORRYYY!!" Jeongin howled. It came out more like a whine.

Seungmin skittered one hand right into the crease between his shoulder and neck, cooing at how Innie folded, giggling so hard, squirming in place as he tugged frantically at the officer's grip.

“Aww, listen to you,” Seung cooed, voice syrupy-soft and devastatingly fond. “Such pretty little giggles, Jeonginnie. You sound like you’re being murdered, but look at this face—”

His free hand came up to thumb away one of the tears sliding toward Jeongin’s temple. “—all red and shiny and smiling even when you’re begging.”

"Nohohohohhoo!! Hyuhuhuhungie COHOHOHOME OHOHOHON!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! I sahahahaid I was sohohohorryy!!" The younger stammered out, squealing as the hand travelled to his collarbones.

Seungmin tilted his head, studying him like a particularly interesting case file.

“You know what’s really dangerous?” he asked conversationally, fingers walking spider-light down Jeongin’s sides again, slow enough to make every muscle twitch in anticipation.

“The fact that you called me here on a fake emergency… wearing this big hoodie…” He tugged lightly at the hem that had ridden up to expose a strip of trembling stomach. “…with nothing underneath. That’s basically entrapment, Innie.”

Jeongin’s eyes went comically wide, even through the tears.

“I—I dihihihidn't!!”

“Didn’t think I’d notice?” Seungmin’s voice dropped lower, teasing, almost sing-song. “Didn’t think I’d want to punish my poor, helpless, ticklish little best friend for wasting police resources?”

His fingers plunged without warning—both hands now, since he’d released Jeongin’s wrists to brace himself better—digging into the softest parts of Jeongin’s waist and sides in quick, merciless squeezes.

Jeongin’s scream of laughter was so loud it bounced off the ceiling.

“HYUNGHYUNGHYUNG!! NO MOHOHOHORE—PLEASE—MEHEHERCYYYYY!!”

Jeongin’s face burned hotter—if that was even possible—and he tried to hide it in the crook of his elbow, but Seungmin just gently tugged the arm away.

“Nope. I want to see every second of this.” He leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Say ‘hyung, I’m too ticklish’.”

"Hyuhuhuhuhung, Ihihihi'm toohohoo tihihicklish!!" Jeongin whisper-giggled, squirming around even as Seungmin trapped his thighs with his knees.

“Louder.”

“HYUNG I’M TOOHOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLISH!!”

Seungmin’s laugh was low, delighted. “That’s right you are.” And with that, he released his hold on Jeongin's wrists and let the boy curl up.

In the space of maybe three frantic heartbeats—0.3 seconds if Seungmin had been cruel enough to time it—Jeongin moved.

One second Seungmin was smugly hovering, still cooing over the mess he'd made of his best friend.

The next, the world flipped.

Jeongin hooked a leg behind Seungmin's knee, twisted his hips with surprising, explosive strength (where the hell did that come from?), and suddenly Seungmin was the one flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned disbelief. The couch cushions wheezed under the impact.

Before Seungmin could even suck in a proper breath to protest, cold metal clicked around his wrists.

Click. Click.

His own handcuffs.

Ratcheted tight, no give, the cold metal biting just enough into Seungmin’s skin to send a thrill of outrage through him.

“Jeongin-ah!” Seungmin gasped, tugging experimentally, muscles flexing under the uniform shirt. The cuffs held firm, linked to the sturdy wooden frame of the couch.

His heart hammered—not from fear, but from the sheer gall of his best friend turning his own gear against him. “You did not just—uncuff me right now!”

Jeongin’s eyes sparkled with pure mischief, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “Hyung came to my rescue, right? Best friends help no matter what.” His voice was all faux innocence, but his hands were already moving—deft fingers unbuckling the heavy police duty belt with a series of satisfying clinks.

The weight of it thudded to the floor, radio still attached, flashlight and baton rolling free. Then the shirt: buttons popped open one by one, exposing the white undershirt clinging to Seungmin’s heaving chest, the faint outline of abs tensed from the struggle.

Jeongin didn’t even hesitate.

Cool night air hit Seungmin’s bare stomach and he sucked in a breath so fast it sounded painful.

“Jeongin I swear to god if you—”

Jeongin didn’t let him finish.

He ducked down and blew the loudest, wettest, most obnoxious raspberry right into the center of Seungmin’s exposed tummy.

Seungmin’s reaction was instant.

A high-pitched yelp—borderline shriek—exploded out of him, followed immediately by full-body flailing. The cuffs rattled uselessly against the hood. His legs kicked out in wild arcs, heels frantically drumming into the bedsheets as laughter bubbled up in his throat.

"NOOOHOOHOHOOOOO!!" Seungmin wailed. "NOHOHOHOHOT AGAHAHAHHAIN!!"

"Oh, yes again." Jeongin retorted, gasping for air before ducking back down to get his belly button.

“STOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOPPP!!” Seungmin’s voice cracked into an uncharacteristically girlish squeal. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE—JEONGIN!!”

Jeongin lifted his head just long enough to coo, eyes sparkling with pure mischief.

“What’s wrong, Seungminnie?” His voice was disgustingly sweet. “You can take a taser to the ribs during training but can’t handle a little tummy tickling? That’s so sad, hyung.”

Seungmin’s face was already scarlet, but the humiliation dialed up to eleven when Jeongin’s fingers suddenly dove for his sides.

No warning.

Just ten wicked fingertips spidering up and down the sensitive skin right over his ribs, then digging into the hollows, then skittering back to the soft stretch over his hipbones.

Seungmin cackled.

Actual, full-throated, head-thrown-back cackling. Tears were already pricking the corners of his eyes. His whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted—only worse, because electricity at least had the decency to end.

This was endless. Relentless. Everywhere he twisted, Jeongin’s hands were already waiting. Left side? Fingers. Right side? More fingers. Stomach? Another raspberry. Waist? Evil little pinches.

"NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!!" Seungmin wailed into his arm. "IHIHIHIM DYIHIHIHIHING!!"

“Look at you. Big bad officer Kim Seungmin, completely wrecked by raspberries. I should take a picture. Frame it. Hang it in the station break room.”

“Jeongin—I swehehear to goOHOHOHOHOD!!!”

“You won’t,” Jeongin said cheerfully. “Not for a while.”

And that was when the radio crackled.

“Unit 47, this is Dispatch. Uh… everything okay over there? We’re getting… sounds.”

A beat.

Then Chan’s unmistakable voice, warm and way too amused.

“Seungmin-ah. You forgot to mute your radio again, didn’t you?”

Seungmin froze. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Jeongin's jaw dropped, and his head shot from the active radio on the floor to Seungmin's face like he was watching a tennis match.

Chan kept going, clearly grinning so wide you could hear it through the static. “Your laugh is cute, by the way. Very… youthful. Very endearing.”

A second voice—Changbin this time—cutting in with a snort. “Sounds like someone’s getting wrecked. Need backup, Seungminnie? Or should we just enjoy the show?”

Hyunjin’s softer laugh followed, lilting and evil. “I vote show. This is better than the drama channel.”

Seungmin’s face went from nuclear red to supernova. You could probably see the glow from space. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. No sound came out.

Jeongin blinked once.

Twice.

Then he scrambled off Seungmin so fast he almost fell off the couch.

“Okayokayokay—damage control—damage control—”

He dropped to his knees, fumbling with Seungmin’s shirt buttons, doing them up crooked in his panic. Fingers shaking. Then the undershirt. Then he grabbed the duty belt from the floor, hastily rebuckling it around Seungmin’s waist with all the grace of a startled raccoon.

Seungmin, still cuffed, still flushed to the roots of his hair, just lay there breathing hard and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for spontaneous human combustion.

Jeongin froze at the sudden movement of Seungmin's hands, still trying to scoop up the pillows that had fallen in the scuffle. "...What are you doing?"

Seungmin’s fingers—despite the cuffs—were already fumbling, twisting, working the key he kept hidden in his watch band (because of course he did, paranoid little shit).

The cuffs clicked open.

Jeongin’s survival instincts finally kicked in.

“Oh shi—” He dropped the pillows onto the bed, and bolted. "I'm going to the convenience store to get bribes!! I'LL BE BACK WHEN YOU DON'T WANNA KILL ME!!"

Seungmin sat up, grabbed the radio, and spoke in the most deadpan voice he could muster after being tickled half to death:

“…You’re all dead to me.”

Laughter exploded over the channel—Chan wheezing, Changbin cackling, Hyunjin making kissy noises. Seungmin turned the radio off. Completely.

Then he flopped back onto the couch, covered his burning face with both hands, and muttered to the empty apartment:

“I’m never answering his texts again.”

anyways i hope this was good...please give me feedback and stuff >.<