Blogernaught

Stratt frowned. "Are you injured?"

Grace wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. "Nope. All good." His voice was higher than usual.

She raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the coffee she had just reached across her colleague to grab. 

The conference room was suddenly too quiet. Dr. Lokken made meaningful eye contact with Dr. Lamai. Dubois and Yao exchanged a bewildered glance. Shapiro mouthed across the table at Ilyukhina—Should we be concerned? 

Ilyukhina unsubtly passed her a Post-It note back: Maybe she's been kicking her lap dog.

Shapiro hid her laugh in a cough. 

Grace cleared his throat. "Uh, so, what was I saying?"

"The spin drives?" Shapiro offered, feeling guilty for laughing. 

"Right, thank you…"

***

Stratt found Grace in the staff kitchen later. He was staring blankly as his stale coffee spun around and around in the microwave. He startled as she sidled in next to him. 

"Oh- Christmas Eve. I should put a bell on you," Grace muttered.

"That would be inappropriate," Stratt replied calmly, stirring a flavorless 5-hour energy shot into her fourth coffee of the day.

They fell silent. Grace was visibly sweating.

"What was that, earlier? In the conference room," Stratt asked quietly. 

"There's no way that's good for you," Grace deflected weakly, pointing at the offending 5-hour energy bottle.

"Answer the question, Dr. Grace."

"It was nothing," Grace flustered. The microwave beeped insistently.

Stratt hummed. Grace looked at anything but her. 

"You know, Dr. Grace, people will think I'm abusing you if you keep flinching like that," she muttered.

"What— no they won't." Grace took his coffee out of the microwave.

"They already think we're fucking, why not that too?" Stratt asked coolly.

Grace spluttered and coughed into his coffee. 

Stratt chuckled softly. "Just tell me."

"Fine. Jeez. I grew up with three brothers, okay? My instincts are- are hardwired for constant threat."

"What kinds of threats?"

"Oh, I don't know. Flying pillows thrown at my head. Getting pantsed. Impromptu wrestling matches…"

"Being tickled?" Stratt offered.

Grace bluescreened. "Wha- um- I- no, just…"

Stratt waited patiently. Grace hated her for it.

"Maybe. Fine. Sure," he finished.

"Good to know," Stratt murmured. 

"Wait—what does that mean? Eva?!"

She was already walking away.

***

Stratt watched Grace through the window of his lab as he lowered himself to the ground, lied down underneath a rack with a large gel documentation machine on top of it, and started tinkering with the bottom of it as if he were fixing a car. 

Stratt frowned. She could've sworn she had told Grace that there were lab technicians at his beck and call to fix anything he needed. 

She entered the lab and approached her scientist. He was listening to music on the lab's speakers and was too focused to hear her walking closer. 

"Na… na na na na na nah… hey Jude…" Grace sung under his breath.

The Beatles, Stratt thought. Fitting.

She crouched next to him, examining his tools and the way he was fixing the machine. It looked like he was replacing a rechargeable battery pack. 

Stratt's gaze slid down Grace's body, examining his poor, albeit open and relaxed, posture and the way his shirt was riding up from the act of raising his arms over his head. 

She cleared her throat. 

Grace nearly jumped a foot in the air, banging his head against the lab equipment. "Fudge- I didn't see you there."

"You're aware that you can call people to come and fix things."

"I know, but, I like doing it myself," Grace mumbled, sliding out from under the machine and curling up into a protective ball. 

"Why are you doing that?" Stratt asked.

"Because the battery died?" Grace answered, a puzzled expression crossing his face. 

"No. Protecting yourself."

"I'm- I'm not protecting myself," Grace stuttered. 

"Relax, then," Stratt said, sitting back on her heels. 

"I am relaxed," Grace said defensively. "I'm the picture of relaxed."

"People who are relaxed don't need to announce it," Stratt said, scooting closer. 

"What- What is this. Why are you—" his voice was awfully high. "Stratt?"

"Yes?" Stratt replied, a small smile starting to crawl across her face. She was now a foot away from him on the floor. She could see how dilated his pupils were.

"I- Eva. Come on."

"What? I'm not doing anything," she chuckled.

"You are though!" Grace protested.

"What am I doing, then? Spell it out for me."

"You're- you're…ugh!"

"What?" Stratt challenged.

"This isn't fair," Grace whined.

"What's not fair? I still don't understand what exactly it is I'm doing that is vexing you so much," Stratt said in one smooth breath.

Grace's mouth was agape and his cheeks were hot. "You're doing the… you're doing the anticipation thing."

"Anticipation of what?" She tilted her head to the side with a bemused smile. 

Grace sputtered and started and stopped and couldn't get a sentence out. "Will you JUST get it over with and tickle me already?!" He finally outbursted.

"Ohhhh," Stratt hummed smugly. "That's what this is about."

"Don't pretend like that wasn't what was happening here!" Grace exclaimed.

She smiled. With teeth. Grace had never seen her do that before—only tight-lipped, hiding-her-amusement smiles. For a second he forgot his predicament because her smile was so rare. He couldn't help but feel pleased that he had coaxed it out of her. 

Until she spoke, that is. "Fine, I'll bite. Your constant flinching intrigues me."

"I- why?!"

"It's cute," Stratt mused. "And it implies that you are far too sensitive for your own good."

"Wha- cute- hey…" Grace interrupted himself, warily eyeing Stratt's approaching hands. "Hey, come on, don't."

"Why not?" 

"You seem to have a lot of questions today," Grace grumbled through gritted teeth. His blush had begun to spread down to his neck.

Stratt's hand stopped and hovered at Grace's side. He flinched, his elbow digging in against it, but otherwise remained still. "Jumpy," she chuckled.

"Can you blame me?" Grace squeaked.

"Why aren't you running away?" Stratt mused, wiggling her fingers. Grace's eyes were locked on them and he swatted weakly at her hand.

"I- I don't know!" He flustered. "I'm- I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment if you hadn't noticed!"

"I'm not even touching you."

"Exactly!"

"Okay, I'll move my hand," she smiled. Stratt retracted her hand fully, tucking it into her lap. Grace remained just as tense. "Why aren't you relaxing?"

"I don't know, you've gotten me all…worked up." He gestured wildly at the gap between their bodies.

Stratt started to stand up. "You do realize that could be taken out of context."

"Not what I meant—wait, where are you going?"

"To my meetings, what's wrong?" Stratt raised a sly eyebrow.

"I- I don't…" Grace puttered out with an exasperated sigh. "You know what you're doing."

"Mm, so now you want me to tickle you?"

"That's not what I said!"

"That's what it sounds like to me," Stratt smirked, quickly closing the distance.

Grace scrambled back. "W-wait, wait, hohold on!"

Stratt paused mid-reach.

"I- uh. I didn't mean—"

"Make up your mind, Dr. Grace," Stratt chuckled.

"Fine, just—just do it!"

Stratt slid closer and gently moved Grace's arms out of the way. He shimmied in place, feeling terribly exposed. She resisted laughing at him. 

It took a lot of restraint.

"Hrrrng…why aren't you…stop hovering," Grace whined.

Stratt moved her hands even closer, just above his tummy but not touching. "Is this better?"

Grace clawed at his own collar to keep himself from pushing her away. "NO! It's nohohot…" His speech broke into wheezy giggles.

"I'm not touching you, why are you giggling?" Stratt murmured, wiggling her fingers a little to see if that got a reaction.

It did. "I'm nohot gigglihihing!"

"Don't scientists usually prefer facts and data over denial and single-mindedness?" Stratt mused, poking him lightly. He squealed, overreacting from the anticipation. She laughed this time. She couldn't resist.

"There is NOHO data, as far as I can tell no one is recording THIHIS—" Grace cut off with a shriek as Stratt clawed lightly from the center of his tummy across his sides and up his ribs.

The way Stratt tickled was nothing like Grace had ever experienced. With his brothers, it was always about squeezing as hard as possible and digging cruelly into every spot one could reach. Stratt, on the other hand, played a waiting game. And when she was done waiting, she tapped and poked and squeezed. If Grace had his wits about him, he would have complained about the way her fingers didn't articulate individually, how they stayed together (almost like flexible LEGO figure hands, Grace thought) and covered a larger surface area to tap and squeeze and crawl all over his torso. 

"Have you had enough yet?" Stratt asked calmly as she gently massaged at Grace's hips. He snorted with laughter, clinging helplessly to her shoulders. 

"I- whahahat- what kinda quehehestion is that?!"

"You have an excellent vocabulary, Dr. Grace, I'm sure you can use it." Stratt nudged Grace's chin up from his chest to get at his neck, scratching gently at his jaw. 

Grace went nonverbal, hiding his face against her sweater. He covered his red cheeks. He didn't even care that he was exposing his neck more to Stratt's fingers. 

"Hmm?" Stratt prompted, burrowing into Grace's now-open underarm. 

"FU-HAHAHA- Get outta there!" 

"I will if you answer me."

"YEHES! OKAY? I've had enohough!"

Stratt withdrew her hands. "Good." She stood up. "Drink some water. And try not to flinch in our meetings, it really does concern people."

Grace watched her leave, completely bewildered. He slowly stood up and brushed himself off. He looked like a storm had passed through unexpectedly: his hair and clothes were mussed, his cheeks were bright red, the corners of his eyes were wet from laughing. 

As he walked over to the sink to grab some water, he noticed something in the window. He squinted, and then put his glasses back on. 

Carl waved at him from the security window, an amused smile on his face. 

My eyes glaze over the screen for a few silent minutes, only filled with Simon's rumbling of content when he shifts his head up. Slowly, I feel him lift my shirt, like if he moves slow enough, I won't notice.

‘...Simon.” I huff from behind the laptop, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my stomach. Focus, Ryland, on your data.

“Keep working Angel…don't let me distract you~” he hums softly. The smirk was evident and clear in his voice. I roll my eyes with an exaggerated sigh. The cool air is replaced by a warm feeling, scratchy but soft. I glance over the laptop again with a small frown. ‘Don't let me distract you,’ he says with his head under my shirt. I lift the laptop and place it next to me on the bed, quickly abandoning my work. Simon starts rubbing his face against my skin, causing me to squirm in his hold slightly. 

I reach out and pull my shirt off of his head, his curly hair a bit frizzy from the friction. He stops a moment, peering up at me through his eyebrows, making me blush slightly. 

‘What are you doing?” I question, quirking an eyebrow up and poking him on the forehead. He says nothing and continues to push his face deeper into my tummy. A small reluctant smile forces itself onto my face as his beard scratches at my sensitive skin.

Simon closes his eyes and his head shifts to the other side. I flinch, feeling the mutated teeth on his right side dig into my skin. Although not all that painful, the added movement of his head worsens it.

“Ow—Simon, you're stabbing me.” He freezes and lifts his head to look down, his hair falling, obscuring his face. A light red mark starts forming on my skin, then a small bit of blood pools in a little pearl and rests on top. 

“Shit, sorry.” His head leans forward and I feel his tongue run across the little area, wiping the blood away. I jump and let out a squeak, more out of shock than anything. 

Ew. 

Simon looks back up at me with this kind of guilty look even though it was clearly an accident and starts shimmying off my lap. I quickly grab at his arm, giving a small frown as he tries to run away, like he suddenly is not allowed to be here anymore.

“Si, it's fine. I want you to stay.” I smile, pulling at him. “It barely nicked me.” Reluctantly, he pushes himself back to his previous spot but holds his head up, his neck quirked up in an awkward position. Surely he's not going to hold it up like that the entire time. 

To prove me wrong, he sits gazing at me, then stares into space for around two minutes, clearly uncomfortable and craning his neck. I roll my eyes again with an amused huff. I know this is his way of being nice and considerate but he can be a little ridiculous without realizing it.

Not wanting him to strain his neck and head more, I reach out and rest my hand on top of his head, pushing it back to my skin. He looks to me once more, looking for assurance, and I sense his slight resistance. I give a soft nod and he lets himself rest back onto me with a sigh, his shoulders untensing.

I card my left hand through his hair, twisting the soft locks around my fingers, feeling him melt deeper into me. He lets out more rumbles and purrs as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp and move down to his ear. I carefully extend my right hand and use the mutated teeth to cup the side of his face in a gentle and loving way.

Simon jumps and twists his head away, like I burned him. “Don’t. They're gross, and you're gonna get poked again.”

I shake my head. "Stop, they're not gross.” I correct and push my palm into the side of his face again. Although he doesn't flinch away, his eyebrows furrow and a frown comes to his face. His tail flicks behind him in what I have come to know as annoyance.

"They're just teeth, Si.”

“They’re…wrong.” 

“...they’re yours.” My hand moves on its own to lightly trace over one of the ridges of a tooth.

He goes quiet and I watch the gears turn in his head, leaning ever so slightly into my touch.

He's always had a terrible image of his body when it comes to his mutations after everything that happened. Although he never usually voices it out loud, like right now, he does have a habit of hiding any and all mutations he can, even if he shouldn't.

I've told him that I don't mind if he walks around with his mutations out but he seems embarrassed about them, and I guess from what I've gathered from this conversation, he thinks they're gross too.

"...you're still gonna get stabbed. And yes, they are gross.” He opens his eyes to stare deep into mine, almost challenging me to disagree again and of course I do. Like I would just let him feel that way about himself.

“Well…I think they're pretty awesome.” I chuckle while bringing my other hand down. I scratch behind his ear and lightly trail my nails down his neck, watching as one corner of his mouth twitches. He breaks eye contact, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to squirm. 

“Y-You don’t hahave to pretend.” He fights the laughter bubbling in his chest. A frown comes to my face at his accusation. Why would I even lie about that? 

"I'm not. I do think they're awesome.” Well now I HAVE to prove him wrong. Show him that I love every little bit of him, head to toe.

“Stohop.” Soft giggles spill from his lips as he pulls his shoulders up in defense, turning his face completely to the right and stopping my hand from moving, though my fingers continue to scrape against his skin.

“Aw, we can't have that. How am I supposed to tickle your ear now?” I chuckle lightly too, watching him struggle to stay still and keep the smile on his face from breaking through. “Move your head for me, Si?”

I nudge his shoulder with my trapped hand, feeling him shake his head a little bit against it in resistance. His face turning redder by the second.

“Nohohooo!” I move my fingers and hook under his chin slightly, scratching as much as I can, watching his tail start to wag adorably behind him.

“No? Welp, I guess I have no other choice…” My shoulders shrug as I pull my other hand away from his cheek and bring that down to the gills along his neck, tracing over the seam.

He barks out a laugh, his head quickly flinging to the left as I scratch at his skin. With the other side of his neck free, I scratch behind his ear again, fluttering my fingers over the shell.

“G-Grahace—EEEHEhehehee!! Stohohop—NOHOHO—!!!” He starts wiggling side to side; his head shoots down into my tummy again, not knowing which side to protect anymore, desperately pulling his shoulders up more. 

“I’ll stop iiiiif…you say your teeth are amazing.” His legs kick against the bed and notice how he’s not putting up much of a fight; his hand just tightly gripping at my shirt. I trace a single finger around the back of his neck, pinch at his nape, and scratch the small spines that flow down his back, causing him to shoot his face back up at me.

The sight brings a giant grin to my face, his eyes crinkled shut and his cheeks a bright red hue. I slow my fingers to just dust his skin with my fingertips, letting him talk. 

He peeks his teary eyes open at me, blushing more at my stare. “Nohot awesome.” 

So stubborn.

“Fine. Have it your way.” I lift my hands from his neck and ears for a moment as he greedily sucks in breaths. My hands worm under him, scratching at his underarms. His elbow shoots to his side with a squeal, making him fall face-first into me again.

“AH—NAHOHOO!!! OKAYOKAYOK—*SNRK*—AHAHEHE—I-I'll sahahay ihIHIHIT!!” He sputters into my skin. I still my hands and bring them up to push his hair away from his eyes and tuck it behind his ears, earning me a slight squeak in return.

His body goes limp against mine as I continue my petting and scratching at his scalp, messing up his hair as small curls stick up. He waits a moment, hiding his face from me. 

“I’m waiting, Simon~” I grin as he looks up with almost a pout. "Or do you need some more convincing?” I wiggle my fingers out in front of him. Anxious laughter suddenly springs from his mouth and he flinches away, his sharp teeth sticking out from his lips.

“Fuck no!” He yelps and tries to compose himself. “Ahem—no, I do not.” His ears flush with more embarrassment as I look at him with an expectant look. He avoids my eyes, looking out at nothing in particular, and lets out a quiet sigh.

“Fine. They're amazing…” I smirk triumphantly as he looks back to my face. “...amazing for tickling!” Before I can ask what he means, I watch in awe as the skin opens up on the left side of his face. I don't think he's ever shown me how it opens before. I've always wanted to ask but it felt like an overstep and he's already let me run so many tests and experiments at this point it almost felt rude to ask for any more, especially about stuff he's particularly sensitive about.

The sharp teeth flare up and out while the bottom ones open downwards and I can see his normal teeth and jaw behind. It's pretty remarkable; the teeth can flex and move, not stuck to a bone structure like human teeth, giving him a range of movement and motion, from what I can tell.

Simon quickly but carefully pushes the open side into my stomach as I screech, my arms flailing uselessly. He stops for a moment, giving a worried look, analyzing my face. When it's evident by my beaming smile that he didn't stab me this time, he starts right back up again.

It feels like nothing I have ever felt before. His sharp teeth twitch and move, carefully digging into my skin, like he's gnawing on me. Under that, I feel his jaw open and his normal teeth nip at my skin in an agonizing way. 

I was definitely and unfortunately right about the range of movement hypothesis, and on top of that, his skin and flesh of his cheek seem to be able to move and twitch more too.

“AH—NOHOHoho!!! WahaHAIT—SIHIHIMOHOHON—!!!!”  I reach forward, pushing at his shoulders as he starts to sway his head back and forth slightly. Simon pulls loud cackles from me and through all the commotions, I feel him smirk against my skin.

“Hm. I guess you were right. They're pretty fuckin useful." As he talks, his jaw and teeth scrape up and down against me, the rumblings of his voice and the air being pushed through his mouth tingling my skin. 

“N-NOHOHOT WHAhahat I meheheant!!” My eyes squeeze shut, my cheeks flush, and I kick my legs out, digging my heels into the bed to push myself away. As a result, I feel his face move down as I move up, forcing his face to my lower belly, causing me to squeal and buck up my hips. 

“Oh? It isn't? I mean, you sat there tickling me all you wanted with your cute lil tummy just sitting here out in the open begging for some attention.” My blush deepens, rushing to the tips of my ears as I shake my head 'no' frantically again. “I disagree, you sure this wasn't your little plan from the very beginning, Ryland?” I shoot my hands up to my face, trying to hide my embarrassment and stifle my laughter.

To be fair, this was NOT my idea from the very beginning! It was HIM who had his face under my shirt before any of this started and I will NOT take this slander!

“NO! NOHOhoho, ihihit *snrk* wahasnt’!” I peek my eyes open through my fingers and see his own closed in content as he continues to press his sharp teeth lightly into the pudge. They move up and down, just enough for me to feel as his skin lightly swipes against my own. He looks almost peaceful compared to my chaotic laughter. 

“Sure.” He responds, clearly unconvinced. I feel him take a deep breath in and then blow against my skin. I arch up with a squeal as he continues to press raspberry after raspberry. His skin ripples into mine, making the teeth jump and wiggle against me more.

“TOHOHOO MUHUHCH—!! SIHIHIMON—!!!”  I yelp out, my hands abandoning my face to push at him harder now and, in retaliation, he shoves his hand into my armpit.

“Stop pushin so much.” My arm flails back, trapping his wiggling fingers in my armpit. I start to sit up, trying to curl inwards. He digs in vigorously, making me flop back down with more laughter.

“EHIHIHEHAHAHhaha ohoho go-GOHOHOSH—!!!” He snorts out a laugh against my skin.

"I'll ease up a bit for you, Angel, because I'm so nice and all," and he does. Simon stops the raspberries, lifting his face from my stomach while slowly moving his fingers to lightly scratch under my arm, though it's still unbearable.

I watch with wide eyes as the side of his face closes back together and he smiles warmly at me. Though it's short-lived and is replaced by what I would consider an evil grin. He dips his head back down and starts to pepper light kisses against my belly. 

“Better?” he mumbles into my sensitive stomach and although it is, I don't admit it. 

“Nohoo ihits nohot!” My other arm comes out and weakly pushes at his head as uncontrollable giggles spill from me. I fling my head back against the pillow, my legs flailing behind him wildly, doing nothihng to actually stop his attack.

“Look at this lil bellybutton.” He teases, his lips shift to kiss the area, and I hear him start to purr again, clearly enjoying my torture. “So cute," he hums into it forcing a giddy squeak from my throat.

“Ehehehaha stohohop! Nohoht thehehere!” He shifts his head down more, scrapping and rubbing his beard over the little area as I arch up again with another squeal. 

“Quit wigglin so much. I’m tryin to show you my appreciation and love.” 

“I-I dohon’t wahant your lohove—AH-WHAHAIT—!!!” He says nothing, lets out a fake gasp of offense, and shoots his head back down, blowing a raspberry against my navel. “OKAYOKAHAhay I-I dohoho wahaHAHANT IHIHIT!!!” I bnack track imediatly as he blows one last raspberry, then plants another kiss, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

He pulls his hand from under my arm and wipes at the spit covering my stomach, making me squeak and flinch away, my residual giggles filling the air.

“Calm down Ry, I'm done.” I sigh, relaxing back into the bed, glancing at him with a silly smile. “For now at least.”

I decide to ignore that last comment and reach down to pull him in close, holding him against me. He settles back onto my tummy as his eyes flutter closed. 

“I still think they're amazing.” I murmur and look down at him. I absentmindedly run a thumb over the side of his face, feeling the bumps and ridges of the teeth. They truly are beautiful, even if he doesn't see it that way.

“You keep touching them.” He states in an odd tone I can't read while his head rolls to the side.

My thumb stills. "Yeah? Is that okay?”

He doesn't answer but starts purring quietly again. He shifts, hiding his face in my stomach but I feel him smile against my skin with a hum.

Did I make this whole comic because I wanted to fulfill the destiny of my url name? Maybe.

I like to believe that once Adrian and Grace get to know each other and get close, Rocky will be able to convince them to combine their homes, with a xenonite divider. They need to be able to hangout without someone being in a suit!

The teacher put on his red suit and prepared for take off by foot. He stationed himself on the edge of the launch bay and with one switch push that took almost no strength but all his courage, Grace floated through space towards the Eridian spacecraft. As the wire securing him stretched behind, Grace felt anxiety building up in his chest.

Something felt off. Just not quite right. As the ship was nearing closer and closer, its reflection in Grace’s helmet was dim. Not that Rocky’s ship has ever been shiny and bright, but it was dimmer than he remembered.

When he finally touched down and was able to crawl to an entrance tunnel, it was sealed off with durable xenonite panel through which his small headlight shined, revealing black and brown pipeline structure that used to habitat Rocky. But he wasn’t there.

Grace called out, but made no sound. There was no sound in space. All he could hear was his own heartbeat beating in his ears, raising by every passing second. Where is Rocky? Shouldn’t he be out by now? With his incredible hearing, he would’ve already known there’s someone trying to get in. But the ship remained lifeless. He shouted again, banged on the panel, adjusted his headlight and squinted his eyes to see as far ahead of the darkness as he could.

And suddenly… he saw something at the very end of the tunnel. It was so far it looked tiny. Pointy, uneven, as if it was upside down. It looked like… a dead spider laying on its back.

Wait… the double jointed legs… no…

“Rocky?! ROCKY, Is that you?!” Grace called, now panicking as realization washed over him.

Rocky was dead.

Ryland was too late. The Edirian ship run out of fuel and the radiation got to him.

Grace’s breathing and heart rate began to spike at uncomfortable speed as if his lungs and heart were in a dangerous race with each other. His vision has gotten blurry and his body gave up on him, muscles turned to mush, air was heavy and his head momentarily overflowed with fear so strong he could comprehend nothing. He felt like drowning in the sound of his own weeping, heart pounding in his ears. As distress signal was roaring in his head, he cried desperately out for Rocky to come back-

“GHA-!”

A sharp, choked up gasp filled the room as Grace sat straight up, panting so fast his chest could barely keep up. He looked around frantically as everything around him changed. A cold sweat run down his face, hands stiff from an iron grip on the blanket that covered him. He was not on a rescue mission for Rocky, not in his astronaut suit in space. He was on Hail Mary. In bed. Safe.

But again, he was alone.

“Oh crap…” a tired half-sigh-half-whisper escaped his mouth as his face landed in his hands and he slowly rubbed it. “It was a dream. Just a terrifying stupid nightmare! Right…?” Grace looked up at all the xenonite constructions Rocky has made above his head to watch him sleep. They lacked one crucial thing however. Rocky was nowhere to be found. Normally He’d have heard him whispering in his sleep and probably come running at that point, but it was quiet.

“No… no no no no, I-I-I saved Rocky, we… we returned to… or… did we? Oh my god…” Grace wasn’t sure if he was gaslighting himself or not. Did he actually save Rocky or not and his mind kept rejecting that reality? Why does it haunt him in his dreams? It felt like someone pulled out his brain, messed up the organized puzzle that once were his memories and put it back in.

Rocky and Grace would watch each other sleep. Because Eridians are completely paralyzed and helpless while asleep, it’s a deeply ingrained cultural necessity that friends take turns guarding, so… why wasn’t he there?

“Rocky?! Rocky, where are you?!”

Within split second, Grace’s body went into panic mode again. Breathing was obstructed once more, his muscles felt like disorganized pack of jellies and his vision wouldn’t focus. He jolted out of bed, from laying down to standing at attention, frantically calling and looking out for Rocky, not knowing how to handle the wave of uncontrollable panic that was clearly overwhelming him.

“ROOOOCKY!” wow dramatic much

“Grace! Why grace so loud?!”

Grace snapped his head towards the familiar voice and through his blurred vision he finally saw movement as a xenonite ball rolled into his line of sight.

“Rock! You’re…” he wanted to ask his friend why did he leave. He opened his mouth, but no more words came out. Instead the adrenaline wore off, no longer supporting his jelly legs and standing position. Multiplied by the rapid getup from the bed, like an iron deficiency diva that he is, Grace almost fainted. He very much needed this dose of relief, but when it finally hit and his mind would stop for a second, he didn’t expect it to be the only thing keeping him upright.

He fell to the floor, just barely managing to push his arms out and stop his face from plummeting to the ground with the rest of his body. Rocky chirped anxiously, straightening up in his ball and came running to his friend.

“GRACE, GRACE! Grace okay?! Grace died!? Grace sick?” As Rocky started bombarding him with questions, the teacher was still trying to ground himself from the panic attack. He was supporting himself on the elbows, regulating his breathing, his lower half lying on his side, legs curled. He no longer doubted Rocky was here, so why wouldn’t he stop pacing? Why don’t the boxing glove in his chest stop pounding on it from inside out?

He regained just enough strength to pull himself up and hug Rocky through the xenonite. Rocky was startled a bit, but quickly caught on and hugged back in his own way. Grace’s body could finally let down guard and suddenly a wave of sadness hit him, contorting his face unwillingly and tears poured.

He did save Rocky. After a million times that Rocky saved him, deep down he knew - he always knew he did. That freaking dream tricked him, made him doubt himself…

“Grace leaking from face. Why Grace upset?”

“Why did you leave?” He sobbed, face still glued to Rocky’s orb.

“Grace say things while asleep. Rocky try to wake up Grace, but Grace won’t. Rocky was worried, so Rocky go get Armando to check on Grace.” Rocky’s arm pushed through one of the walls of his container and placed it on Grace’s back in a comforting gesture. “Why humans talk why asleep, question?”

“We dream.” Grace kept sobbing, though slowly quieting down. “I’ve had a dream, where I… you…” damn, words are hard. His closed throat wasn’t helping either as it felt like the words were barely squeezing through it.

“What’s dream, question?” Rocky asked very directly like he wasn’t just holding falling-apart-Grace. However, at the request of explanation, his eyes sparked again. He was still shaking uncontrollably, yet wanted to share his knowledge with his friend. Every time Rocky asked a question, Grace would be more than happy to tell him. It reminded him of teaching students back on Earth.

“It’s our brains way of sorting out memories and integrating them with cortex when we sleep.” he started explaining while wiping his eyes with a sleeve. Sniffs and sobs were interrupting every second so much so his diaphragm was hurting, but he tried to push through, feeling Rocky’s embrace through the xenonite container.

“There’s a part called hippocampus that orchestrates it, but sometimes we regain consciousness partly during this process and witness hippocampus’s memory-sorting as a mare. Sometimes it feels like you’re really there even if it’s just in your head. This… is why I was talking in my sleep.” Grace tried to sit up and leaned his back against the wall. As his whole trunk finally relaxed in a more natural position, breathing started to be manageable again.

“So… why Grace scared? What Grace dream?“

“Rocky, can we not… do this right now? I’m still… not quite all there yet.”

“What Grace need? Rocky help.” Grace did not reply. He tilted his head back, so it could rest against the wall too, closed his eyes and kept breathing short, shallow huffs and puffs. Rocky stopped asking questions as he remembered from one of many Ryland’s rambles that humans tend to get overwhelmed with too much information or questions at once. In silence, he carefully approached Grace, emerging halfway through his ball and lying his center in his lap, careful to not pull his whole weight on it.

After a couple of minutes, Grace finally started to come back from the panic room. Rocky noticed early when his heartbeat slowed down and chirped happily upon hearing it.

“Thank you, buddy.” Grace put his hand on Rocky’s body, sticking out of the container, patting him gently with gratitude.

“Rocky happy Grace better. Now Grace tell Rocky about bad dreams, question?” Grace smiled in his heart and shook his head at how smoothly Rocky rerouted the conversation back to it. At least now he could speak without choking on his own breath.

“Not all dreams are scary. Hippocampus filters both good and bad memories and sometimes mixes them. It’s really a coin flip which moment you’ll get. When it’s a scary one, it’s called a nightmare.”

“Grace had nightmare, question?”

“Yes… I… I thought you died, Rocky.” Grace winced at the haunting image of Rocky as an upside down spider crossed his mind.

“I had a nightmare from when your ship was failing. I was so worried I was too late and that I messed up…” before Ryland managed to break down into tears again, Rocky cut in, which he almost never does.

“Rocky not died, statement. Grace did not mess up. Grace save Rocky.” He said with such calmness and cuteness that Grace’s heart overflowed with warmth in an instant. He teared up at those words. Rocky was too pure for this conversation.

“I know, bud. I’m sorry, it felt… too real.” Grace held back a whimper. A short pause on both sides occurred.

…

“Dream stupid, statement.”

“No, Rock, it’s fine, I- it’s my fault-I’m just a bit shaken-“

“Dream makes Grace sad. Dream make Grace think Rocky dead! I don’t like.” Rocky exclaimed as if it was the biggest insult he has ever heard. He might have also been frustrated that no matter what they did, Grace’s face kept leaking, but at least he wasn’t panicking anymore.

“It’s nightmares that are bad. And of course I know you’re not dead, I- I- just- hehehey now!” Grace tried to explain, but fumbled as he felt Rocky climbing on top of him with his full weight now and malicious intent. He slid off the wall and tried to crawl backwards to his bedroom, but he was already immobilized. It was like someone parked a car on top of him. He was not going anywhere.

“Rocky not believe. Grace stressing over stupid dreams!”

“Buddy, I’m- I'm fihihine.” Grace giggled in anticipation as Rocky’s hands extended from the xenonite container and his claws opened, wiggling slightly in the air. Grace knew where this was going and a dumbfounded smile slit his face.

“Rocky hear Grace heart and breathing. Grace still scared and sad. Rocky help!”

“Nohoho- Rocky, DOHOHON’T-“ before Grace could protest, he felt Rocky’s hands land on each side of his ribcage and vibrate violently. He immediately fell on his back, bringing his arms closer to his chest and started laughing loudly. Not giggling - straight up laughing from the belly. Rocky awed melodiously as Grace's warm laughter filled the room.

"Nightmares bad - tickles good!" Rocky teased and Grace cursed in his mind that he had ever taught his alien friend about the concept of tickling. Honestly he could've predicted that it would backfire at some point.

"Wahait- WAHAHAHAIT! Rohohocky, nohoho! I'm betteheheher- I swehehehear!" he squealed, frantically pushing at Rocky's ball pressing him into the floor as his claws moved to the sides of his abdomen. Grace’s body jolted, but xenonite held him in place. The inability to curl up or even shift sideways made the tickles ten times better worse.

"Great, Grace recovering! Amaze! Amaze! Amaze!"

"Rohohock, you're nohohot helpihihihing!"

"Rocky IS helping! Grace happy again! Why Grace so stubborn?" Rocky squished all around his belly sides and lower ribs. It was very sensitive area for Grace, but also like a melt spot. He loved when Rocky did that even though he couldn’t take it.

"Thahat's NOT hohohow you treat ahaha person afteheheHEHER they hahad a p-pahahanic attack!- *squeal* NO, NOHOHO GET AHAHAHAWAY FROHOHOM THEHEHHEHERE!” Grace practically screamed, when Rocky’s third arm snaked up and started squeezing the pudge of his lower belly, landing one claw in the navel and wiggling there stubbornly. Rocky completely ignored Grace’s plea and just kept making high frequency happy noises, very pleased with reactions he was causing.

“ROHOCKY PLEHEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAHAN’T MOHOHOHOVE!” Grace begged through his loud laughter. He trashed his head from side to side, his body wiggled helplessly under Rocky as he couldn’t get an inch away from this unbearable feeling. His legs kicked aimlessly and he was slamming his hands on Rocky’s ball, which caused the alien to flinch at how loud it echoed inside. But it didn’t stop him from tickling.

“Ouch! My hearing perception! Grace no slap Rocky’s container. It’s very loud.”

“I’M SAHAHAHAHARRY! STOHOHOP TIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE!” Grace burst out shaking his head, a frantic mix of squeals and laughter pouring out of him, much to Rocky’s amusement. That man was the cutest (and only) human Rocky has ever seen. But he noticed his friend getting tired and decided to resolve the situation with an ultimatum.

“Will Grace stop having nightmares?”

“I CAHAHAHAN’T CONTROHOHOL IT!”

“Then Grace will find Rocky and not panic stupidly?”

“YEHEHEHEHES IHIHI WIHIHILL, ROHOHOCK, STAHAHAHAP PLEHEHEHEASE!” Grace begged through his now slightly hoarse voice, not entirely sure what he just agreed to.

Rocky finally let up. The second he let go of his waist and rolled off to the floor, Grace flopped on his side and curled up into a ball, leftover giggles still escaping his lips. The reassurance and encouragement before the tickling were enough to make him calm down, but with how touched starved Grace was (we’re social creatures after all), in the end he didn’t mind at all.

“Youhuhu are the little tihihickle monster, you know that?” said Grace, still panting and smiling like an idiot.

“Apology.” Rocky moved closer and hugged Grace still curled up on the floor, who flinched at the contact of Rocky’s claws with his side again.

“No mohohore! Rocky-“

“Grace no afraid, Rocky will tickle no more (today). Grace recover from nightmare?”

“Yes, never been better, pal.” He said, rolling his eyes as Rocky just gave him a reality check disguised as tickling the life out of him that he, in fact, is not dead.

“Grace remember this and don’t be stupid.” Rocky moved his center (where his face would be if he had one) in front of teacher’s face and placed his stretched claw on top of his head, which made Grace feel a bit like an immobilized cat grabbed by the nape.

“Grace saved Rocky, now Grace safe, Rocky make sure of that.” Grace just shook his head and embraced Rocky. He finally let his guard down completely and let his body relax here on the ground.

“I know, pal. I know.”

Whatever was left of panic still inside of him, has evaporated with all the laughter Rocky caused. Was it that it was actually quite enjoyable to laugh freely in the arms of a friend?

He patted Rocky through the container and smiled at his very much needed words of great encouragement. He knew he saved him deep down - they saved each other. It was possible he could have failed, but he didn’t.