❤︎ bix is back ❤︎

He’s been slightly more open about the affection he wants. Asking for head scratches or just to hold his hand. Although when I had tickled him, I was literally in his lap, he seems to prefer to keep his overall distance. The most he does is lean against me and I do find it rather odd. He prefers I not do this in front of Grace, getting immensely embarrassed and refusing the affection all together. 

He's been touchy himself, though. He's continued to pet me, but only on my legs. He never goes higher than my first joint, mainly staying down towards my claw.

We’re lying in the closet. Yes, he’s still insistent that he stays there for now if he’s not staring at us around the ship. He’s supposed to be sleeping right now, but I have a feeling he lied about being tired. He just wanted attention away from Grace.

He's got a leg in his lap again, tugging and pulling at my claw while he looks up off into space. Soft fingers pinch my digits and bend them between his fingers. I hear his head turn, his eyes fixating on me. He stares deep into me, as if he wants me to read his mind. I pretend not to notice. 

He waits, looking, and eventually lets out a little huff. I return the noise with my own soft chord and his brows furrow together. 

“What, question?” I ask as I tinker with a small figurine, one of Simon actually. It's a little fun to have a new muse.

He bites at his lip and fidgets with my claw some more. He shifts to sit up on the blankets and pillows thrown together in a pile in the cramped room, straining with his one arm.

“Um. I wanna ask you something—to do something.” He corrects, looking away. He sounds nervous, not embarrassed like I thought he would. We've made good progress. I didn’t think he would be scared to ask for stuff like these requests anymore; maybe flustered, sure, but not scared. 

I place my equipment down and shift my carapace his way, giving him my attention. “What Simon want, question?” I add some amusement in my chords, hoping to ease his nerves a little.

He sits and thinks for a moment, very still, and then looks back to stare at me. His eyes are trying to read me before he even asks. I hear him swallow hard, trying to build up confidence.

“Can I, um, pet you more?” I make a confused chirp. 

He asks like Im going to say no. I wish he would stop expecting that. Grace asks questions because he's curious, while Simon asks them because he's afraid. I want him to be curious.

I was so sure he was going to ask for a little more affection. Maybe something closer to me. Maybe the claw in his lap to softly scratch under his chin but I’m surprised. 

And confused.

“Simon is petting Rocky now.” I hear his heart rate pick up slightly at my statement.

“Yes.” He looks down at my claw in his lap and squeezes it, then rubs his thumb in a circle against me. “I-I mean, like other parts of you?” He looks away sheepishly and I see the end of his tail flick.

That’s a new request.

“I just—I like to do it and ya know…you like it too—well, I think you do.” He grumbles with a frown while squeezing my claw harder. “I don’t know…it’s nice to do that for you…”

Simon is asking to care for me. Usually it’s the other way around. It's different. Simon wants me to be happy too. I feel warm and giddy about that.

“Of course." I trill happily while letting out some soft snickers. He throws me a glare while his cheeks pool with blood. He is so unknowingly sweet. I pull my arm from his lap and hold it out with another, welcoming him into me if he wants.

He looks hesitant but ultimately scoots closer until he’s just bumping into me. I don’t wrap my limbs around him but rather let them lie on the floor on either side. I don’t want to overwhelm him.

I wait as he sits there looking awkward. He raises his hand to my carapace but stops and lets it fall back to his side. He looks me up and down.

“Simon okay, question?” I ask gently, nudging one of his legs with my own. “Do not have to pet Rocky if Simon does not want—“

“No! No. I do want to. I have wanted to. Like Grace does…” He admits, frowning more, but I hear the blood rush to his ears, too. “I’m just worried.” He reaches beside himself and squeezes the claw I just pushed into his leg, like he's holding himself there so he doesn't run away.

“Why, question?” I let out a perplexed rumble. Humans are so confusing. It is good affection he wants to give; what is there to worry about? 

“If, like, I hurt you. Or make you upset. What if I do something you don’t like and then you hate me or—?” I soften at his words, gently pulling him closer to me. He tenses up, his arm in the air away from my body, but eventually melts into my side, resting his head on top of my carapace. I decide not to tell him that he would probably never be strong enough to actually hurt me. Humans take offense to that; well, Grace did.

“Simon can not do anything to make Rocky hate Simon.” He pulls away, his face full of skepticism, as always. "Rocky tell Simon if it does not like touch. This solution okay, question?” I suggest, hoping to ease his worries. 

I'm so happy he's asked for this. His stupid human brain almost stopped him. Good thing he asked anyway.

He nods his head slightly, pulling back to put a little space between us. I pull the claw with his hand clasped around it up in front of us.

“Simon start here.” I suggest.

“…okay.”

I watch as he lets go and lightly runs his fingers over my family crest engravings, something he’s done consistently for the past two weeks, but he looks focused now. It’s like he’s really thinking about this small action. He's so careful, too careful, even.

He has these claws that came from his mutations. They don’t seem that sharp compared to other tools I’ve used, more blunt than sharp. They're definitely longer than Grace's, but I wouldn't actually describe them as long overall. He runs them over my shell, scratching lightly.

He gives me a quick glance, like he's checking up on me and I respond with a soft trill. He lets go and then softly grabs at the top section of my leg. I feel the light pressure as he squeezes. 

I let out a hum of content and see a smile grow on his face, his pointy teeth sticking out of the corners. It's small, hesitant even. It's like he's not sure he's allowed to be happy right now.

“I-is this okay?” He glides his fingers upwards.

“Yes. Feel very nic—“ I cut myself off with a small squeak. I tense up and he jerks back, ripping his hand from me. 

"Shit—! I didn’t mean to! A-are you okay? I knew I was gonna—“ His heart leaps in his chest.

"Rocky okay!” I frantically trill, trying to calm him. He starts scooting back; he looks scared. His breathing picks up and becomes erratic while he grabs at his chest. I feel myself start to get anxious at the familiar signs of a panic attack.

“I knew—I knew I was gonna hurt you! I should have just stayed quiet!” He starts to shake, digging his heels into the floor to push away further. “Why couldn't I just stay fucking quiet?!"

Although I don’t really want to do this, especially in his frantic state, I grab an ankle and pull him back towards me. He lets out a squeak but stops moving. His chest heaves as he claws at his chest and neck.

“Simon. Rocky okay. Not hurt. Simon do nothing wrong. Very gentle.” I try to hum softly. I resort to pulling him back close to me. I reach a claw up and rub at his cheek. I notice the start of tears welling in his eyes, but his breathing starts to even out. 

I move my claw down to his chest, pressing it into the back of his hand that rests there.

“Breathe. It okay.” His eyes flutter closed as I lift his hand in mine, interlocking our fingers, and gently hold it there against his heart. I rub slow circles into his skin and start humming softly. We sit like that for a while.

He suddenly breaks the silence. “I-I was being selfish… I shouldn’t h-have asked—” 

I whistle softly. “Simon. Is okay. Want Simon to ask.” 

“Are you sure? You—you made a noise—you flinched!” He rips his hand from mine and points like he's interrogating me, glassy eyes full of dread.

“Joint sensitive. Rocky good, good, good.” He sits for a moment. I hear his eyes look down at his hand and then press his thumb into the claws on his fingers, like he's testing to see how sharp they are. To see how much pressure is too much and whether he had just used too much.

“Sorry.”

“No apology.” I hum.

He looks away, clearly upset with himself, whether it be the initial contact or his reaction after. Maybe both. 

“Sensitive like it hurts to touch?” He asks, clearly wanting more reassurance.

“No. Ticklish like Simon. Not hurt.” I say, pointing to myself.

“Oh.” He stays silent in thought for a second. “Wait, you can be ticklish too?” Low chuckles spill from his mouth.

“Yes.” I feel myself warm with embarrassment, but I also relax as I see him calm down. I shift a little closer, but he instinctively pulls away. 

This situation put us back a few steps. He was really doing so well, too. He's even comfortable enough to ask for more, but now he’s worried about touching again. I lightly tap a claw against the floor in slight frustration.

“Hm. Simon want to try, question?” I’ll show him it’s nothing to worry about. That he did nothing wrong. Grace tickles me from time to time, though he prefers to be on the receiving end as much as he won't admit it. I think this would be beneficial for us.

He looks shocked, his eyebrows go up then right back down, looking hard at me. “You want me to…tickle you?” I feel myself fluster more. Not really just to tickle me but to pet me in general and show it’s okay.

“Yes. If make Simon feel better. Show nothing hurt. Show Rocky trust Simon.” A sigh leaves him. 

“You don’t have to do that, Rocky.” He mumbles with a frown. He seems to cower into himself, bringing his shoulders up defensively. It's like he's physically scared at the notion of touching me again.

“Rocky want.” I want to make sure he knows. I want him to know that even if he did hurt me or make me uncomfortable, I'm not going to hate him forever for it.

He looks very unsure, moving away slightly again. I wonder if it’s the ‘atmosphere’ after what just happened. Humans are very sensitive to the social 'atmosphere,' so I try to lighten it up a little. 

And maybe I’m trying to antagonize him a little bit, hoping he’ll retaliate.

I reach forward and grab his thigh, squeezing softly. He lets out a squeak and his leg jerks. I hope this isn't an overstep.

“Ah-Rohocky?!” His hand scrambles down to my claw, latching on. I take a second claw and my first and move to his inner thigh on both sides, scratching at his skin. Although he looks frantic, I don't think he's uncomfortable.

“EEHEHAHAhaha w-wahahait—!!” He squirms, trying to pull his legs up while his tail wags behind him, which soothes my mind.

“No.” I dig into the muscles more. I slowly inch upwards, making him squeal.

“OKAY—OKAYHIHEHAhaha *snrk* I-I’ll dohoho ihihIHIHIT—!!!” He squeaks out, trying to pry my claw away. 

I squeeze a few more times before I pull back. He huffs and tries, and fails, to give me a frown. I giggle at his blushing face while reaching out an arm to him. He hesitantly takes it into his lap once more. 

“You’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much, right?” He glances at me.

“Yes. Will tell.” I answer softly. “Joint sensitive. Simon touch there.” I instruct, pointing to where my arm and carapace meet.

He gives me a face I can’t read but ultimately reaches for my leg. I can’t help the little flinch I give in response, making him pause for a second but then he continues.

He runs his fingers along the joint and I freeze up with a chirp. I try to hold in my laughter, squirming around. I hear a smile come to his face as he applies more pressure. My arm starts to retract and I stagger back before I can stop myself, and to my surprise, Simon follows. He moves closer, sitting directly next to me, digging his claws into the sensitive spot.

"Sihihimon—ihiheheha!" My legs become wobbly and I stumble to the floor.

“I didn’t think you would be able to be ticklish, you know, being a rock and all. Why your joints?” He asks, squeezing lightly. I continue to laugh, struggling to gather my thoughts to answer him. He waits a few seconds and lets out a hum. 

“Um. I don't know if you said anything or if you did. what you said.” He grins as his hands still. “Maybe the translator can't pick it up.” He looks over to the laptop on the floor a few feet away from us.

“Ah-apology! Ohonly expohosed insihide of carAHAHPACE—!!!” He starts to scratch again with a giant grin on his face. "SEHENSAHATIVE—!!! HEHEhelp t-to kehehEEP—AHAHE—pahaharasites ahahand smahahall creahaHATURES OHOHOUT!” He pulls high-pitched trills from me as he scratches faster. My legs wiggle out on the floor, trying to push away. 

I weakly push at him, but he just swats my claws away and continues.

"Interesting," he mumbles to himself, slowing his hand. “You make such fascinating sounds. It’s so squeaky.” I feel my body heat up more at what I think is his version of a compliment. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of those. 

“Shuhut mohohouth!!” I squirm as he lets out a laugh. 

I hear a hissing noise, knowing exactly what it is. His hands stop and he pulls away for a moment, watching the steam start to pour from my vents. He smiles more, much to my dismay.

“This means you're embarrassed, right? I’ve seen you do it a few times with Grace. He always makes fun of you.” I try to curl up on myself while he pokes fun at me, folding my arms underneath my body. I decide to not respond.

He lets out a knowing hum and trails his fingers down to my first joint, making me squeak and kick out my leg. He grabs hold, trying to pull it from my body. 

“Give it here, Rock.” He snickers. I fight with myself, trying to relinquish my arm back to him. He’s enjoying himself, and I don’t want that to stop, but my body isn’t cooperating. 

“Rohocky cahan’t.” Light giggles spill from me as I pull against him as lightly as I can. He lets go with a frown as I pull my leg tightly back into myself.

“Fine. Is your carapace ticklish too?” I hear him ask as he rotates around me, dragging his fingers along another joint.

“Ihihi—yehehes!”

“Can I try?” He stops and pulls away; more steam billows from me at his request.

“I-if Simohon wan—“

“Yes. Simon does want.” I hate that he used that word. Sure, he’s asked for things but this is the first times he said he wants something, not that it would be nice or me offering it for him and letting him respond with a yes or no. He said he wants it, and who am I to say no when he finally has the courage to say that?

“O-okay.” I trill and brace myself for the sensation, tensing up but nothing happens. Simon lets out a snort.

“You gotta uncurl. Can’t get to you with your legs covering most of your body.” He pokes at one of my legs, then brushes his hair up and out of his face.

“Ah, right. Apology.” Let's try this again. It takes some mental effort but I do unfurl myself, leaving my carapace vulnerable. My legs tremble, struggling to hold myself up and I hear that he notices, frowning slightly.

He moves himself up against me to my surprise, lifting a leg out and over his shoulder, I’m assuming to make sure I can’t curl it back up. 

“Here. Lean on me.” And I do, shifting some of my weight onto him. He lets out a satisfied hum as my legs seem to steady a little more.

I hear as he brings his hand up to my side and I flinch while frantic anticipatory giggles vibrate through me. He lightly scratches my side, gently, from side to side. He seems to frown at my reaction, tail flicking in response.

“Did you lie? You're barely laughing.” His eyebrows knit together as he presses in more, quickening his pace. 

“Rohocky not lie. Simon no tickle right.” I state, acting offended that he would even consider me a liar. 

"Well, it seemed to be working a minute ago.” He teases with a smile. I feel myself fluster more. It’s nice to see him so playful, but those little comments are getting to me. He lightly pokes at my joint again, proving his point.

“CAHhahe—carapce less sensitive to touch. Scratch or tracing not work well.” He frowns again, shifting against me.

"Well, how do I do it then?” His head cocks to the side.

I stay silent. I contemplate just keeping this information to myself. He can already tickle me elsewhere; he doesn’t really need to know—

"I'm waiting.” I feel myself tense up more at his voice. 

“...”

"You'll tell me eventually," and before I can ask what that means, he's scratching along the underside of the joint of the leg he's got around his shoulder.

“EEAHAhehe nohohoooo!”

"Yes." He stops suddenly. “I really, really want to know.” He’s using this very serious voice. I can't tell if it’s playful or real. I huff, tapping a leg against the floor. It’s like he knows that if he says it like that, I’ll tell him. He and Grace can be so similar sometimes. Maybe I’m just too soft with them.

“Tapping and vibration.” 

“What?” 

“Tapping and vibration work on carapace.”  I admit.

He grins while silently bringing his hand up and taps lightly with a finger, pulling soft giggles from me. Then he does it harder, adding the rest of his digits and I let out an embarrassing squeal, causing me to let out another hissing sound of steam.

“WAHahait—!!!”

“So why does tapping and vibrations only work?” He asks while moving his hand lower. I feel my arms try and curl up again but the two fail with Simon in the way. He sounds like Grace with all these questions. Curious, not frightened.

“H-HAHARD OUTSihide!! Nohot feheheel muhuch!!” He drums his fingers back and forth in an agonizing way. “Vibratiohohons t-trahavel—THROHOUGH caharapaahace t-to squihishy IN-side—! Mahahake tihickle!!” I squeak out the best I can. He stops for a moment, looking out at nothing.

“Vibrations… hm. I have an idea. Can I try?” I feel my anxiety spike at his question as he eagerly looks back down to me. There’s no way I can say no to that face.

“Hm. Yehes.” I warble with uncertainty.

He pulls me close into a hug, something he has not done without me being the first to offer. He doesn't even seem to notice, but I definitely did, though I decide not to point it out. I’m basically in his lap now. I carefully wrap three legs around his middle while the other two hold me up. I unconsciously start to rub his back and he smiles more. Actually it’s more of a smirk.

“What Simon doing, question?” Although I’m not going to complain about a hug, I’m not really sure the gesture is a new idea.

“Hold on. Give me a second.” I wait a moment and then I hear it. The familiar rumble of his purring. I make a confused trill in response. But then it gets louder. It’s never this loud, always so soft. Then it’s stronger still and I feel myself squirm against him.

“Can you feel it?” He questions while holding me close. I do feel it; the strong vibrations coming from his chest flow through me, and it's overwhelming.

“Sihi-MON!! I-IHIHIT THIHICKLE—!!!” I desperately claw at his back, holding onto his shirt. I didn’t know he could purr that loud. I guess he was always suppressing it. He did always seem embarrassed about it.

My legs give out and I collapse fully into his lap and he just curls up around me, purring louder. He almost sounds like some sort of machine, maybe an engine. He’s got this satisfied look on his face, smooshing his cheek into the top of my carapace. I can tell he finds this amusing. 

"Good." I see his tail start to wag.

It’s not good. Bad even.

It’s been so long since a sensation like this ripples through my body. The buzzing is driving me up a wall. Between the vibrations and sound waves, I'm feeling overstimulated.

“You're so warm. No wonder Grace is always attached to you.” He sighs and I swear it gets even stronger the more he relaxes into me. “Ya know, I could probably fall asleep like this.” 

“NAHOHOhohoho!” 

“Yeeesss~ And you’d have to stay here the whole time as a purr in my sleep. All. night.” He hugs tighter as I pull. “So sleepy…” I hear his eyes close, feeling his body slump more.

“NONONO—NOHOHOT AH-allowed tohoho sleheheep!” I all but screech, trembling in his arms.

“I thought that's why you came in here to begin with? I said I was tired, and you came to watch. Are you refusing to watch me sleep, Rocky? I'm offended.” I feel his hand lift slightly and then start to tap against me, up and down the length of my carapace. 

“SHIHImohon—IHIHEHEAHA—!!!”

“Jesus Rocky. So loud. I’m tryin to sleep here.” He gives an evil smirk, rubbing his face against my body like he's getting more comfortable. The buzzing in his chest is so loud, I can hear it vibrate his vocal cords as he talks. 

“IHIHEHAHA—STOHOHOP—SHIHIMOHON—!!!” He suddenly tries to pull away from me, but I've unknowingly latched onto his shirt, pulling him close. I feel his purring slowly go back to its normal quiet vibrations. I can still feel it; I’m too sensitive. I wiggle softly against him, little chirps and pleas rumbling from me, as more steam flows from me.

“Rock. You have to let go or it’s gonna keep tickling you. I-I can't get it stop completely right now.” He bites at his lip, pulling away more. I force my claws open, and he pushes himself away, dropping me gently back onto the floor. He stays close enough to reach out a hand and pet my carapace soothingly.

My laughter slowly fades, and Simon moves closer again. He leans up against me, absentmindedly petting across my carapace. I try to hold as still as possible, worried if I disturb him, he'll stop. Slow scratches, rubbing in small circles. The same way I pet Grace. The same way I pet Simon. 

I notice how he's petting without thinking about it anymore. Without asking for permission first.

This isn't the first time it has suggested this. I think it asks at least once every time they see me, and my answer stays the same every time. “No.” It comes out harsher than I intend.

“He means a lot to me and so do you. I want you to get along.” I will say, it doesn't usually push after the first no; I'm a little surprised. It shifts closer to me while I'm working at my desk. “You work on the biodome team. You are in charge of so much of his life. This includes everything from what he eats to the conditions of the ocean in his home. You should be more involved physically..." I huff. Sure, maybe it would make my life easier to see the human in person, but my feelings towards the creature keep me away, and I think that's for the best for everyone involved.

“I work on the human because you don't trust anyone to care for it other than yourself and me.” We have a team, of course, but when it comes to Grace’s immediate health and comfort, I am the primary Eridian involved. Rocky shifts even closer to me; he's wobbling a bit. He's ready for sleep. 

“I-I don't want you to just do it for me. Do you enjoy it a little at least?” I move away slightly as it reaches a claw out for me. “You were excited when we first arrived…not just for me, for Grace too.” Grace was exciting when he first arrived. An alien who saved not one but two planets and saved my mate personally. Of course I would find that exciting. And to have the opportunity to help lead in the invention of its enclosure was amazing. But not so much anymore since I learned what the consequences of its existence on my life would be.

“It keeps me busy" is all I give to it. “Why are you being more pushy than normal?” I sense something's up. The unaccepted claw retracts, and Rocky pushes it together with another, fidgeting. I knew it.

“I must attend a meeting pertaining to Grace. I won't be there with him… I want you there to watch him instead," it trills out sheepishly. “I don't know how long I will be gone for. I…do not want him to be alone.”

“It is alone right now, is it not? It can function and take care of itself just fine.” Annoyance and anger lace my voice a bit. Rocky scitters back a bit but tries to touch me again. Its words are starting to slur as exhaustion takes over his body.

“You know what I mean. Grace is…sensitive. I don't want him to be alone ever again.” I feel anger rise within me. What about me being alone? For decades I waited to not be alone again, and now, even with my mate back, I am alone. I feel the mercury boil under my carapace as I try and be understanding.

“I know you do not like him.” It's not that I hate Grace personally. I can't really. I've only ever interacted with him while he was unconscious the first few weeks of being on Erid. I have complicated feelings toward the human and the situation that has come with it. 

“Please do it for me.” I move away from them again while trying to continue working.

"It's always for you, isn't it?"

"I-I…I'm sorr—"

"I'll do it. It's fine," I grumble at its despondent tone and move away from my desk.

Rocky comes over to me again. This time I know it isn't trying to convince me of anything; it just wants to sleep. The sight of it tugging at me hurts more than the argument did. Rocky is exhausted. Its movements are sluggish; it reaches a claw towards me. I flinch away before I can stop myself.

Rocky goes rigid and sits for a moment. “Y-you won't even hold me? You won't let me close to sleep?" It sounds broken, close to a cry but not quite. The sight makes me go rigid in return.

I let out a low hum. “...I need some space right now. I will still watch.” Rocky lets out a strangled whine, close to a sob, but settles on the bed close by anyway. I can tell it's too exhausted to really do anything about it; it's actively fighting off sleep that should have taken it days ago.

“Thank you, Adrian." the words come out slurred. I shift towards it to answer but Rocky is already asleep. Its claws are still loosely curled together where it has been fidgeting moments earlier. 

Something inside me aches.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

I arrive at the dome's airlock, wearing a thin Xenonite suit I've never had to put on before. Rocky stated that Grace knew I was coming to see him today instead of itself and that the human was nervous. To play nice, for Grace’s sake. I've taken the human's chart with me. While I'm here, I might as well take notes while I can and see what I can improve for him.

I step in and wait for it to pressurize, and then I'm on my way. I head out to the beach and start towards the humans' house. The sand shifts below my feet, and I hear the constant crashing of waves next to me. I move my attention to the “classroom” on the other side of the dome. I think making it a bit bigger would be helpful. More students to teach at a time, but to give the human more space to work with for demonstrations and such. Maybe add storage for materials so it's easier on the human.

By the time I come back to reality, I've approached the house. I realize we haven't exactly built the house for an Eridian of my size. I could probably get in, but I'm not sure how cramped the inside would be.

I knock lightly and wait a moment. I hear its footsteps frantically heading towards the door. It finally opens, and the little human looks up at me in awe. 

“Hello Grace.” It's still silent, just staring. I shift uncomfortably at the tiny alien.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know Eridians could get so…tall." It chuckles a little, but I feel its heart skyrocket. It's for sure nervous. “Rocky told me you were bigger but didn't really specify how much bigger."

“Yes.” It fidgets as I speak. “Adrian does not think it is good idea to try and go in Grace house.”

It looks back at the structure and rubs the back of its neck. “Uh–yeah. It's probably better if we hang out outside instead. Um, let me grab my shoes.” It turns back inside and grabs what it's looking for. 

I let out a small annoyed hum. The human is so loud. It is much louder now than when it was unconscious. I can hear its heart, its blood, and its breath. I can hear the crackles and pops of its joints, the way its tongue moves as it talks. So loud. How did Rocky get used to this noise? I would have gone crazy on that ship. 

The tiny human comes fumbling through the door and walks ahead of me. I noticed the door that it left open and pulled it shut. And so forgetful. 

We head down the beach in silence. Every wave crashes against the shore with a different rhythm. Besides me, Grace's heartbeat refuses to settle. Between the ocean and the human, there is hardly any silence at all.

The human comes to a stop and drops to sit, facing the waves. I do the same, crossing two arms in front of me, ready to take any notes on the human I might need.

“Grace nervous, question?" I ask softly. He spins to face me head-on.

He turns his head up at me and chuckles lightly. “You can tell?” What a dumb question. 

“Yes. Grace heart loud and fast.” I hear blood pump to its face, and it looks away.

“Sorry.” 

“Is okay. Human can not control.” Before I can stop myself, I reach a digit out and run it over its cheek, pushing its face to look at me again. "This is blush, question? Grace embarrassed, question?” I can't help but be a scientist first, I guess. The portable human thinking machine has made my life a thousand times easier. I can look up any knowledge about the human body and system, but seeing and experiencing it in person is so much different.

It lets out a small yelp at my sudden touch, making its heart beat more. The blood in its face reaches its ears. Although I want to, I refrain from grabbing at the tips of its ears too. One thing I don't stop myself from doing, however, is dragging that claw down to its neck to feel for the carotid pulse. It's one thing to hear but another to feel, and it's strong. I can feel its blood thump against its skin, rappidly, over and over.

“Amaze.” I murmur without thinking. 

"Uh—umm, Adrian?” The little human squeaks out. It has squeezed its eyes shut and forced its head up to the sky to accommodate my touching.

I let out an amused hum. “Apology.” I retract my claw, curling it back into my lap. I stay quiet, hoping it will calm down. When no calming down happens, I try to pivot to my questions, hoping to distract the human.

"How Grace feeling, Question. Eating well, question?” I ask.

It clears its throat. “Uh, I'm feeling good. Better than I did! And yes, eating well!” he smiles. 

“How are ‘burger’, question?”

“The me-burgers are amazing!” he shouts excitedly, hands moving as he talks. “You literally saved me with those things.” I feel myself get a little flustered at the praise, and I hate it.

“Saved Grace in other ways. More important ways.” I let it click out with some disbelief. I cure and bring this human back from death, but ‘me-burger’ is what saves it. Human priorities are weird and confusing.

“Well, yes," he rolls his eyes a bit. “But humans have a strong connection to the food they eat. Physically and mentally. Mentally I didn't want to eat, even though I was dying of starvation. The food tasted awful and had a horrible texture. Your idea to use my muscle was fantastic!” I feel him shift a little closer to me. “It tastes so much better than the other stuff. You kind of cured my starvation and helped cure my bad mental health at the same time!” It laughs as though what it said was funny and not worrying. Though I did not know how linked the mental state and food were, this information is helpful to know when synthesizing more food for it in the future.

“Adrian will work on making 'me-burger' taste better for optimal mental health and human relationship with food for future.” I mentally add this information as a task to get started on when I get back home.

“You don't have to do that, Adrian. I'm okay with the burger. I promise." It looks away, towards the artificial ocean again.

“Adrian must.” I let out a quiet rumbling for a moment as one of my claws gently plays with the sand beneath me. The human looks back at me. 

“Why?” Its head cocks to the side, in a cute way, with wide eyes.

“For Rocky," is all I say, and I can tell it comes out sad. “Adrian will do anything that Rocky asks of it. For Grace.” I know Grace still needs a translator to some extent, but he is good at picking up tone.

He sighs, "Thank you for coming to see me today. Letting me meet you.” He smiles, but his eyes look sad, lids falling low. “I know you hate me, but…I still appreciate it. Appreciate you and everything you have done.” Its eyes well up with liquid. “I know Rocky puts a lot—too much—on you, and I know he's never home with you. I know that," he sniffs, looking down into his lap. “I-I feel like it's all my fault. I'm so…so useless on my own here. I-I'm such a burden to you…” he starts leaking, and I feel myself starting to panic now. I don't know what to do when a human starts leaking from their face. 

I suddenly feel guilty, not a little guilty but deeply guilty. Grace looks so small sitting beside me. He is smaller than I ever thought he would be. Somehow I convinced myself that Grace was the source of my frustration. Looking at him now, crying into his hands, I realize how unfair that was.

“I don't hate you, Grace.” I try and speak as softly as I can. He presses his hands to his face harder, shielding himself from me.

"It's okay that you do. I would hate me too. I—I do hate me.” His voice cracks and he breathes in sharply. “I’ve ruined what y-you two could have had…” I can tell he's trying his best to keep his emotions in, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face just to have them replaced immediately with fresh ones.

I let out a low, pained coo. Slowly, carefully, I pull the human towards me. I expect it to resist, but Grace practically folds into my arms. The moment his head touches my carapace, he latches on. His fingers clutch at me desperately. I scoop his legs off the sand, holding him gently. 

“Grace. Adrian does not hate you.” My words, which are supposed to be comforting, only seem to make it cry harder. "Adrian frustration is not Grace fault. Grace bring Rocky back to me. Rocky could hate Adrian. Not want to be mates and Adrian would be happy that Rocky alive and well.” Grace pulls his very leaky face from me, looking for a moment but not saying anything while he quietly weeps. 

“I-I know your relationship with Rocky is bad…he acts different.” He babbles over his words, “I know w-why you didn't want to see me; I'm not that s-stupid—” I move my arm up in front, making him stop.

The notion of how fragile and small he is worms its way into my thoughts, and it makes me happy that he trusts me as much as he does. That he wants to be okay in my arms, even though he is adamant that I hate him. I let out a sad trill, running a claw through his hair. 

“Grace save all of Erid. All of Earth. Grace risk life for Rocky. For me. Adrian will never hate Grace.” I scratch gently at his head, bringing my claw down to the side, near his ear. He breathes in deep and leans into the touch. 

“Understand, question?” He nods slightly, but the tears and sobs don’t stop. “Grace.”

“Y-yes…I do.” He shoves his face back into me, pulling his arms to his chest. He shakes with sadness.

I feel myself heat up in embarrassment as I contemplate what to say next. “Adrian has…grown to love taking care of Grace…” Rocky was right. I do enjoy it as much as I told myself I didn't. All those times I pushed my limit on how long I could go without sleep and worked so hard for Rocky and Grace, I did, deep down, enjoy it. “Adrian happy hearing Rocky tell how Grace is happy with new thing.” I hum out rather quickly. 

He seems to perk up at this. “Y-you don’t have to do that, Adrian.” His crying is slowing. I pull off his glasses, placing them into the sand next to us. I wipe a claw over his face.

“Adrian not doing anything but tell truth.” He starts giggling and pushing at my claw. He sniffs while I clear the tears from his face.

“Thank you…” he says, breathing in deep. I move my claw back to his ear to comfort him again, scratching it lightly. He shoots up with a high-pitched noise, and I flinch, pulling my claw back.

“Grace okay, question?” I frantically say, grabbing his chin and moving his head to the side. I trace his ear again, and he flails. “Where hurt, question?”

“W-wahait nohoho!” he squirms about in my hold. “Nohot hururt! Tihihicklish!” he squeaks out. 

Rocky has told me about the human version of tickling before, specifically that Grace is quite fond of it, and it's come up in my research on the human body. It has a similar outcome to Eridian tickling. Laughing and wiggling around. I think this method will be a good way to make Grace feel better. 

I pull my claw away with a hum of understanding, and he relaxes. He's lying in my lap, a small smile across his face, but I still see the faintest tears in his eyes. He moves his face to his hands, still sniffling.

“Hm. Adrian will give Grace check up.” He glances through his fingers.

“W-what?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

I gently pull up his shirt, and he tenses up. He's still quite thin, but fat has definitely started to come back. I reach my claw and grab at his ribs, giving slight squeezes. He jumps with a squeal.

“WAHAhait! Adriahahan!” He presses his arms to his side while twisting in my grasp. I feel around the bones, moving my claws up. His ribs definitely don't stick out as much as they did when I first treated him. I squeeze his top ribs while feeling his chest muscle for any growth.

“NAHAHOHO-AH I-I dohont neheheed a CHEHheheCK UHUP—“ he cackles, trying his best to dislodge my claw.

“Grace need check up from Adrian. Make sure Grace eat well. Check for fat and muscle growth.” I chirp with a playful tone. "Is Adrian job." I moved my claw from under his arm to trail down it, using another claw to pull his arm from his side.

“I-I ahaham! Ihihim eahahating gohohood!” I trace lightly down his arm as he pulls at it. I pinch at his elbow and let out a yelp and some more giggles. There’s some muscle growth here, though definitely not as much as I would like.

“Hm. Not enough.” I trace down to his wrist, then back up to his inner arm.

“Ah-I’m sohorry!” he tugs weakly at his hand, soft laughter leaving him.

“Grace no apology. Adrian work harder to help. Make grace strong.” I murmur it out while thinking of solutions for later.

I release his arm, and he presses it to his side again, his legs trying to come up and curl him into a ball. I stick a claw back down, feeling around his tummy. He screeches, fighting my arm. 

“Good. Much fat and muscle here.” I firmly press in, feeling all the muscles twitch under my touch. “Rocky will be happy.” 

“EEEAHHAHA—NOHOHO!” I hear blood rush to his head again as embarrassment takes him. “S-stohOHOP—ADRIAHAHAN!” He kicks at my carapace, and I can’t help but let out some giggles. He’s so small and weak; it’s amusing. I have to admit his little human sounds are quite cute.

“Grace too ticklish for exam, question?” I tease a bit, vibrating my claw. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly.

“A-ADRIAHAHAN– *SNRK* THIHihis ihihisn’t neheceHESSARY!” squeaky noises come from him.

I grab a flailing foot with another claw, stretching his leg out as my other moves down to his thigh. I push into the muscle there and let out a pleased trill.

“Good human Grace! Much muscle here. Good good good.” His other leg kicks out frantically as his arms scramble to pull at my claw. “Such a good human. Adrian can tell Grace been running. Keep up with regiment. Good Grace!” I half tease, half praise, soaking in the new wave of blush creeping up his face.

I squeeze his knee, and his leg jerks hard. “How joints, question?” I know the gravity on our planet has taken its toll on his body. I scratch lightly at the underside, pulling giggles from him.

“T-they ahahache a bihit, not bahahd!” He covers his face, pulling at his appendage.

“Hm. Will work on problem. Brace maybe help.” I go back up and squeeze rapidly at his kneecap.

“ADRIAHAhahan! P-pleheHEHEASE! NOHOHO MOHOHORE-AHAHEHEhehe—“ I let go of his leg, and he immediately folds in on himself, gasping for air.

“Grace very good. Fat and muscle build good. Will add more magnesium and zinc to diet. Help.” I state, scratching at his scalp, pulling lightly at his hair.

“O-okahahay—“

“One spot Adrian check.” I unfold him a bit and pull down his pants a few inches, then push into his lower stomach, making him scream and fight me again.

“ADRIHIHI—NAHAHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” He squeals, curling around my claw. I squeeze at the little pudge that sits there with content.

“Adrian happy happy happy! Grace get more healthy. Grace doing so good!” His cheeks flush again, ‘hiding’ his face as much as he can while wiggling around.

“NOHOHO—“ I move up a bit and press into his belly button. 

“Yes.” I scratch lightly at the little spot.

“EEEHEHAHA—PLEAHAHASE!” He arches up while making a rather adorable noise.

I stop moving my claw, letting it rest against his tummy. His laughter lingers intertwined with little hiccups and tiny giggles. Different kinds of tears staining his face now. I rub soothing circles into his skin while he catches his breath.

His heartbeat is loud and strong. Alive. Every beat is proof that Rocky made it home. Proof that Grace made it home too. The little pitter patter settles something deep inside me.

He's curled up in my arms, his breathing and heart evening out. He has a smile plastered on his face, and soft giggles still spill from his lips. He wraps his arms around the leg that is still settled on his stomach, and he lets out a sigh. 

“Grace…very endearing. Adrian understand why Rocky love so much.” My admission makes him shove his face in my arm with a flustered noise. I reach a claw up and pet at his head again, sliding to scratch at the base of his neck. He melts into my arms, eyes closing. 

“Thank you. I hope you visit me again.” He shifts a little in my hold.

“Will visit. Promise." his small frame shifting to look at me again. “Adrian apologize for not seeing Grace sooner.” Guilt floods my chords.

"No, it's okay. I understand why.” He laughs slightly. "I would be upset at me too.”

“Not upset at Grace. Or Rocky. Adrian understand situation. Adrian knows feeling not logical. No one fault.” I rumble out gently. "Adrian apologize. Not Grace fault. Grace save Rocky. Adrian forever be in Grace dept. Should not have taken feelings out on Grace Rocky.” I move my claw to under his chin, scratching slightly. He smiles wide, scrunching up his shoulders a bit but tilting his head up, giving me more access.

"It's okay.”

“Is not," frustration lacing my voice. His eyes widen slightly. I can't get over what he said. "Grace really not like Grace, question?” He looks away as I lower my claw from his chin.

“I just–I hate the way I'm so helpless here, I guess? I rely on so many Eridians just to wake up and take a walk. I don't, like, hate myself. I feel like a burden to you and Rock–”

“Grace good burden. Adrian like Grace burden.” I see his heart rate start to rise again. I stroke his forehead as I see tears start to swell in his eyes again. He sniffs and takes a deep inhale. 

“Okay, question?” I say firmly.

He wipes at his eyes. “O-okay.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

“Adrian?” Rocky's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed it sneak up on me.

“Rocky! How was the meeting?” I ask tenderly. The waves crash softly in front of us.

Instead of answering me, its carapace shifts down, its attention on the little human asleep in my lap. It seems to look in shock and awe as I pet Grace. After a moment, it lets out a small excited sound, something I haven't heard in months. 

“D-Did it go well?” Its voice vibrates from joy, already knowing the obvious answer.

I let out a giggle. “Yes. Me and Grace had a good talk.” I bring my claw to scratch at his scalp. He shifts, making adorable little purring noises in his sleep. 

Rocky walks up in front of me and Grace. "I'm very, very, very happy!” it trills, bringing up its claws and shaking them. 

“Me too," I reply fondly. Rocky suddenly stops; the atmosphere around it changes abruptly.

“Are…we okay?” I let out a small, pained sound as Rocky moves a bit closer to me. 

“Yes. I am sorry, my love. I was never mad at you. I apologize for any hurt I have caused.” I reach an arm out, hoping it will come to me.  ' I placed my emotions on you both when shouldn't have."

They come closer, about to take my claw, but hesitates. “I am sorry too. I have not been home with you to spend time or watch you sleep. I had you work nonstop on Grace, not thinking of your thoughts or feelings. I am sorry.” It shifts back and forth, two claws fidgeting together. “Do you still need space?”

“Rocky, I know why you did it. I do not blame you," I whisper out softly. “I would love nothing more than for you to be in my arms.” 

It takes my claw immediately. It was as if I were afraid I might change my mind. I gently pull Rocky closer until it's pressed into me and Grace. The tension leaves its body so quickly it almost makes me laugh. I start caressing it the same way I'm doing with Grace, and exhaustion immediately starts pulling at it again. In my arms, it softens, and I can feel sleep beginning to take hold. A low rumbling starts deep inside Rocky. So sleepy and content with both of us here. I've missed that sound.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

There was a look you shared, sometimes, whenever you successfully provoked him into tickling you - although you didn't always need to provoke him. Sometimes, you'd just look at him pleadingly, and he'd know. And after, you'd wipe tears of laughter from your eyes, and he'd adjust his glasses, and it would be there on his face. A knowing.

It was why you felt comfortable asking without asking, when the wanting arrived - you’d hide Ryland’s things, act extra snarky, squeeze his knee under the table - and if he didn’t tickle you, he still usually gave you some similar form of playful affection. It nearly always worked. 

Nearly.

This time, though, was different. Despite your best efforts to drop hints all week, it appeared Grace was too engrossed in his work to pick up on any. You’d prodded his ribs, thrown in plenty of sarcastic jibes - and, though you were loathe to admit it, deliberately stretched for high shelves a few times within tickling distance. All that, and Dr. PhD still hadn’t gotten the message.

So…no, he wasn’t helping at all. 

You'd looked into the science of it, once. Hugs released plenty of endorphins. It stood to reason touch-starved individuals might feel drawn to affection that caused laughter, which would release an extra kick of dopamine. It wasn't unfathomable that some people enjoyed being tickled.

So you knew you wanted it. And you could take a reasonable guess at why.

Didn’t make it any less humiliating to think about, though.

And now, after hours trying and failing to shut it out, there's a stubborn, giddy flutter settled between your heart and stomach. Your brain runs circles around the recent lack of touch, helpfully providing you with visions of hugs, playfights, cuddles, tickles, tickles, tickles-

This is bad.

You tap your pen furiously against your notepad, berating yourself for getting distracted again. A simple dilution calculation sits unfinished, abandoned in favour of your oddly specific yearnings.

C₁V₁ = C₂V₂.

The formula stares at you. It's simple: just plug in the values, make the needed solution. You’ve done it a million times by now.

Across the room, Ryland drums his fingers on the bench, his glasses habitually crooked as he contemplates his own data. It's only in your peripheral, but it's enough to scatter any possibility of concentrating. Your eyes linger a nanosecond too long on his hand, and you absolutely, totally do not contemplate his fingers tapping one-by-one like that against your ribs, so it's fine. You're fine.

Fuck.

Perhaps something more visual will help. You nudge the chair back, and grab a sample for the confocal microscope.

It's a more complex setup than the little desktop ones. Takes an eternity to switch the thing on - a million buttons, and loading screens, and safety checks.

You pass the time gazing intently at the desk.

Finally, it's ready. Taking a seat, you slot the sample in, and your hand drifts to the coarse focus dial, the sample shifting up and down with each movement. You will your eyes to stay locked on the viewport.

Your elbows bump against the desk as you hunch over the eyepiece. It's not comfortable, but you're used to it at this point, and it leaves your torso rather open to - nope. stop it.

Too late. The thought of hands, squeezing suddenly at your sides, flashes through your mind. Kneading. Poking. Teasing. A person, no one in particular, crowding closer to trap you against the bench, laughing low near your ear, his glasses bumping your neck-

God.

The fine focus does not make things any clearer.

"I can hear you thinking." A voice nearby. You nearly fall out your chair. Grace is stood over his laptop, hands propped against the table, glasses slid down his nose. Just…watching, apparently.

You steady your breathing. “Uh- what?”

“You’re distracted.” He steps closer.

“No, I’m not.”

“So…you meant to do that?” He points to the sample, which you have elegantly smushed against the microscope lens during your adjustments. Great. You rest your brow against the eyepiece in defeat.

“How many cover slips are we gonna lose to you, hm?” Ryland mutters, guiding you off the chair with a hand on your shoulder. 

You nudge him. “Shut up.”

He nudges you back. “Hey, I’m looking out for our equipment, here.”

You reach over, adjusting his glasses for him. “You’re dragging me away from my work.”

He grins. “Work? What work?”

“Rude.” It’s too easy, really, to swipe your fingers over his neck – your hands are already there, and your brain has been screaming affection affection affection for hours now. 

Grace, of course, leaps back with a squeak, half a giggle escaping before he regains his composure, hand held to his neck.

Mischief flashes through his features, for a moment. But he doesn’t take the bait. 

“Alright, alright, sorry.” He folds his arms. “What’s going on?”

You huff. “Nothing, just…”

“Bored? Tired?” Ryland supplies. Your gaze drifts inexorably to his hands, which trace idle patterns over his own arms. 

You are not going to get any work done like this.

“Kinda.”

You stride over, placing your hands on his shoulders, expression dour.

He tilts his head, frowning slightly.

“What, you need a hug?” His arms open wide, and you take the offer, even if it’s not quite what you’re after. It helps.

You spend a moment gathering your thoughts, Ryland giving you a brief but tight squeeze. It gives you the confidence to draw back and face him again.

“All good now?”

Heat crawls up your neck. For the fifth time in as many days, you give him The Look - the one that usually says everything you need it to. 

He raises his eyebrows, uncertain.

“Okay, so…not all good, then?”

“Grace.” Your voice nearly cracks. Delirious, you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose - but…no, there’s not a glint of malice in his eyes.

“What, what do you need?” He’s completely oblivious.

 “I want-” The rest of the words won’t come out. You give him one last pleading stare, hoping he’ll know the look in your eyes this time.

“What, what is it?”

Shit. You’re going to have to spell it out for him. 

“Um- it’s been a while since- uh.” The next few seconds are filled with your various stutters. Grace sits through it all patiently.

Okay, deep breath. You place your hands together, and brute-force the words out.

“I, um. I want you to tickle me.”

Silence. 

He leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he finds something interesting.

And then, slowly…he smiles.

“...So you can ask for it.” His voice carries that familiar teasing lilt.

“You-You knew?”

“You are not subtle.” Grace doesn’t give you time to process the betrayal - just lunges forwards, scooping you into a hug from behind like it's nothing. His hands latch onto your hips, squeezing rapidly, and he laughs at the way you instantly start sinking downwards. 

“That was so hard for you, wasn’t it?” He muses, spidering his fingers over your stomach, following you towards the floor. “You were thinking about it for days!” 

That fluttering, hopeful thing from earlier does somersaults inside your chest, revelling at the familiar electricity running through your veins. The giddiness and joy at being held this way, despite Grace’s teasing, puts a silly grin on your face. You put your head in your hands, legs flailing wildly as you reach the ground. But Ryland’s not having it - he grabs your wrists, and slots out from behind you, choosing instead to sit over your legs. He pins your hands over your head, leaning closer.

You refuse to meet his gaze - and in your defence, it would be hard to - Grace’s free hand walks two fingers along the inside of your bicep, moving steadily towards your underarm. It’s rather distracting.

“Grahace-”

You risk a glance at him.

Bad idea. That grin is evil.

“You really missed this, didn’t you?” His hand swirls a tiny circle over your tricep, and your giggling stops being anticipatory. You frantically shake your head. 

“Yea, you did.” He laughs, a sing-song tone to his voice. His fingers creep lower, slowly tracing around your navel. Your breath hitches in your chest, delicate laughter stuttering out.

“You missed being tickled.”

The heat rising to your cheeks is mortifying - you let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a whine. 

“Aw. Sorry, am I embarrassing you?”

“Yes-!” His hand abruptly claws at your side, and you tip your head back, lost in laughter. “No! Nonono-”

“Yes? No? Which is it?” Grace laughs. It’s a wicked noise. Horrible, even. You vow to yourself that you’ll tickle that laugh out of him once you’re free.

“FUCK you-” 

“Tsk. That’s rude.” He stills his fingers, leaning in to look you in the eye. “I won’t tickle you then.”

…If the ship’s hull somehow breached, right now, and you fell through the laboratory floor into the frigid vacuum of space, you would spend your last moments grateful for the feeling of the cold against your raging blush. 

Grace is attentively watching your reaction - which consists mostly of hiding your face against your pinned arms, and giggling through residual laughter. There may have been a very embarrassing flustered groan, but you don’t dwell on it.

“...Well?” He hovers a clawed hand over your tummy. “You owe me an apology.”

“Sorry, sorry-” You manage to squeak out, eyes closed tight once you see what he’s doing.

“...And?”

“And what?”

“And, what would you like me to do?” Grace looks at you expectantly. 

Oh no.

He’s waiting for you to ask him again.

“Absolutely not.” You open your eyes. His hand is closer. 

“...I just think it would help to practice asking, is all.”

“Ryland.”

“Ryland, now, huh? Must be bad.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, just a bit. Just an inch away. You can’t help it - you laugh a little.

“Plehease!”

He considers this - observes the shade of red your ears have turned - and snorts.

“...Alright, fine, be dramatic.” 

His hand makes contact with your torso, sliding your shirt out the way as he spiders a pattern across your skin. Then, hand still poking along your side, he leans down, and blows a raspberry.

You forget most of the English language for a moment, back arching in a useless attempt to throw him off, your focus completely consumed by the playful, buzzy feeling under your skin. At one point, you make either a snort or a hiccup, you’re not sure, and Ryland laughs against your belly, which tickles even more. Once he runs out of air, he pulls back, and pays attention to your ribs, his fingers climbing up each one with horrible, ticklish accuracy.

“...Two…” he mutters. You furrow your eyebrows between giggles, confused by the lack of context.

“GRACE-!” You manage to shout, unable to form a sentence through the combination of laughter and utter mortification. Pulling at your arms does nothing.

“Shush, now, you’ll make me lose count.”

His hand shifts to the next rib, one finger positioned above and the other below as he digs lightly into the space between the bones, and keeps counting.

“Three-”

Ok, now you actively wish there was a hull breach. 

“Four-” He continues, picking up his pace slightly to observe how your legs kick out more in response. “Only twenty ribs to go, you’re doing great.”

“Screhew you-!” You’re careful to leave the profanities out this time.

Grace smiles. “On second thought, this is going too slow. Fivesixseven-” 

His hand crawls rapidly upwards, slightly trailing towards your spine as it does so. At long last, he lets your hands go, so he can have both of his back. The freedom doesn’t do you much good - you feel like a puddle. Your limbs can barely move from the laughter. You hold onto Grace’s wrists loosely - but don’t push them away.

“You gonna let me go?” By now, he’s got both hands jammed under your arms, barely moving. He doesn’t need to move them, really - you keep squirming and laughing yourself into an infinite feedback loop with them stuck there like that.

“Plehease-” You can’t think through the giggles.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m not moving!” Grace is laughing along with you at this point, apparently highly entertained by your predicament. “Oho, you’re adorable.”

By some miracle, you finally manage to lift your arms enough for him to draw back. He doesn’t touch you again - just sits back, watching as you flop your arms over your face and ride out the tsunami of residual giggles he’s caused. 

After ten seconds of this, he leans forwards again, poking at your wrist. 

“You ok under there? Did I break you?”

If you hadn’t just been tickled to pieces, you probably wouldn’t have grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. But you have, so that’s what you do.

“Hey,” He laughs, stroking your hair. “Happy now?”

And despite the mischief in his tone - despite the stomach-flipping embarrassment you feel - despite the fact he’d known what you wanted the whole time - you nod. 

Ryland grins wider. “Good.”

Then, he leans over to catch your eye, his voice a tad smug.