Sam Wilson's pretty boy

When you woke up, you were halfway to Tau Ceti e. There had been Ryland, who broke down in tears at the sight of you blinking against the bright light, and to your utter surprise, a five-legged stone alien.

Rocky, his name was Rocky.

After that, you thought nothing could ever catch you off guard again. Until one random night a few weeks after you guys saved the world, on the way to Erid, you woke up, chest heaving, eyes falling on the man sleeping on the bottom bunk who, as it turned out, was your husband.

Now that had been like a punch to the gut. You weren’t complaining though; with his messy blond hair, easy smile, and considerable biceps, he was definitely not the worst choice on a purely aesthetic basis. Add to that his charmingly bumbling persona—always tripping over himself to help you, easily flustered, but equally quick in biting back—and you promptly came to terms with the fact that you were married to him, even if a lot of it was still foggy.

Luckily for you, it didn’t take much longer for Ryland to remember you as well. He was less subtle about it than you; one moment you had been talking in the lab, and the next he dropped an entire box of ampules, staring at you with wide, glassy eyes.

After that, everything became a lot smoother; knowing you were never returning to Earth was a lot easier to swallow with the knowledge that your most important person was right next to you. There was only one problem: your health was still acting up, and now that all the adrenaline from having to save the world had vanished, it left you often weak and sickly.

But Ryland was nothing if not persistent in wanting you to be as comfortable as possible, and had no issues with going out of his way to provide whatever you needed.

This is five times Ryland took care of you, and the one time you were finally able to repay the favor.

You had been living on the Hail Mary for almost a year now, and while Ryland had told you that he cleaned up when Rocky first moved in, it clearly hadn’t happened since.

Stuff was strewn all around, clothes hung from the netting along the walls, boxes of stuff blocking most of the floor. It was getting to a point where you had to genuinely fear for Ryland’s safety every time he paced mindlessly around the space, considering he already struggled with staying on his feet when everything was clean and tidy.

So, for lack of anything better to do, one day you decided that you were going to clean up a bit.

Ryland and Rocky were engrossed in some sort of scientific tinkering back in the lab, so you didn’t tell them, and just started by collecting the clothes, folding them semi-neatly. After you had picked up most of the clothes and stored them back in the supplied bags, you began trying to clear the floor so that it would be easier to get through at the very least.

Many of the boxes were quite heavy, holding everything from lab equipment to food provisions—you really should be more careful with those—to random junk you were send to space with, because apparently a space mission to save the world wasn’t complete without an array of theater masks.

While doing all that, you had put on some music, lightly swaying to the sounds of Hozier, Fleetwood Mac, and whatever else came on the shared playlist of you and Ryland, which could range from soft rock of the 70s to 2010 pop.

With the music taking up most of your headspace, you didn’t hear Rocky approach at first. He had gotten a lot better at getting around in his rather large Xenonite ball, but the noise was still unavoidable. When you turned to him, he was already looking at you—or as much as he was capable of looking at anyone, which for the record, was not at all—and he tilted his carapace in a way that communicated his curiosity over what you were doing.

“Hey pal,” you said, momentarily straightening back up from your crouched position, making your back twinge a bit. “You guys done with whatever the hell you were trifling with?”

“Rocky finish creating second third barrier for breeder tanks. Grace mainly watch and talk,” Rocky said, his voice coming through the speakers around the ship—it was easier than always carrying a laptop around to translate his Eridian into English. Both you and Ryland were getting semi-fluent in the foreign language, but it was still helpful to have the instant translation, especially if you weren’t paying that much attention.

“That’s nice,” you said, and then, because you knew he was waiting for you to explain, added, “I’m just cleaning up a little. The last thing we need is Ryland breaking his ankle because he tripped over something.”

“Yes,” Rocky said. “Good idea. Rocky can help, question?”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” you said quickly, waving him off. In truth, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it didn’t really seem like there was much he could do considering he wasn’t able to leave his ball.

You bent down to pick up another box, but when you did, a sharp pain shot through your spine, making you gasp out loud.

“Pain, question? Grace Mate in pain, question? Grace Mate dying again, question? Bad, bad, bad!” Rocky made high, panicky sounds, while you slowly let yourself drop to the floor, wincing when that movement made even more pain spread through your body.

“It’s okay, I’m fine, Rocky.” You tried placating him. The last thing you wanted right now was—

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?” Ryland’s worried voice came from somewhere deeper in the ship, although you could already hear his footsteps coming closer.  It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate his concern, it was just that he tended to turn the smallest concerns into huge issues.

 “I’m fine, Ry,” you said, but by that point he had already walked in. His gaze instantly fell on the many boxes you had already partially moved to the side. His eyes moved between them and you, brows coming down in a frown.

“What are you doing?” He asked and stepped closer.

“I’m just cleaning up a bit.”

“Is that…” Ryland hesitated. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Some of these boxes are pretty heavy.”

“It’s fine, Ry,” you answered, caught somewhere between annoyance for his slight overbearing and appreciation because he was truly a good partner to have.

“Is not fine,” Rocky suddenly chimed in. “Grace Mate make ‘ughhh’ sound when lifting box. Is hurt.”

“Rocky,” you hissed, throwing the alien a slight glare. Normally, he was pretty 50/50 when it came to who he’d support in an argument between you and Ryland (mostly depending on who’s side was funnier for him to support) but whenever it came to your health, the two became a bonded pair of reinforcement.

“Is true,” Rocky said, and moved two of his legs in what you could recognize as a shrug.

“Sweetheart?” Ryland looked at you over the rim of his glasses, hands on his hips. It looked a little ridiculous, mostly because it was a pose ripped straight out of the years he spent as a middle-school teacher, but somehow it worked. You sighed heavily, rubbing a hand along your arm.

“It hurt a little,” you said, and when you saw his eyes widen a bit, quickly added, “A little, okay? Just a little, nothing bad.”

Ryland sighed. “A little is still not good. I don’t like a little.”

“I know, but we can’t leave the ship like this any longer,” you said.

“Then I’ll clean up,” Ryland said. “It’s mostly my stuff, anyway.”

That wasn’t true, it was a mess you both made, and you were quite certain he was aware of that and just trying to get you to stop cleaning.

“We’ll do it together.” Ryland opened his mouth, ready to argue, but you cut him off before he could. “That’s final.”

“Bossy,” Ryland scoffed while smiling at you. He stepped over the box before you and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. “But I’ll lift anything heavy, and afterwards we’ll take a look at your back. That’s final.”

You rolled your eyes a little, but agreed nonetheless. Ultimately, you were glad not to have to keep hurting your back. You spent the next two hours cleaning everything up and finally putting some of the stuff back into the storage compartments. All the while, Rocky kept up a running commentary over whatever song happened to come up, or when he felt like something should be stored differently. When you went to bed that night, and your back only slightly twinged, you were glad that Ryland had offered his help.

It had been about two weeks later when you found yourself faced with another tricky situation—you couldn’t sleep.

Back on Earth, you had been a frequent sufferer of insomnia, but until now, you had been spared of it for the most part while on the Hail Mary.  However it seemed like it had returned with vengeance.

You had been tossing and turning for quite some time now, trying to find a comfortable position. But your legs kept on twitching, and while your eyes were heavy with fatigue, your mind was spinning with a million thoughts. 

“Friend okay, question?” Rocky asked. He was perched in his ball by the door, watching you sleep the same way he did every night.

You had noticed that he tended to switch around with what to address you, because he had met you while you were still sleeping, he mostly stuck to the descriptors he had come up for you before you could really introduce yourself. You didn’t mind it; it was actually kind of charming.

You turned toward him, careful not to jostle Ryland, who was sleeping next to you. “Yeah, I’m okay, Rock. Just can’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Not sleep, question? How that possible, question? Sleep essential for human maintenance.” Because it came from a computer, Rocky’s voice was quite loud.

You shushed him gently. “Remember what we said about how easy it is for humans to be awakened from their sleep?”

“Apology,” Rocky whispered as best he could, which was not a lot quieter, but at least softer.

“Apology accepted,” Ryland grumbled from next to you.

You turned back toward him, finding him already looking at you. “Shit, sorry, honey. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Rocky already apologize,” Rocky said. Ryland rolled his eyes a little and pulled you closer.

“It’s alright.” He sighed sleepily, and his eyelashes fluttered a little. “Why are you awake?”

“Just couldn’t fall asleep,” you said, burying your face a little deeper in his chest. His smell was so familiar and comforting to you that you almost didn’t mind not falling asleep if it meant being able to continue being close to him. 

“What?” Ryland asked, and you could feel him stretch his neck to look down at you. “Why didn’t you wake me or something?”

You scoffed. “Ry, I’m not going to wake you just because I can’t fall asleep. That seems a little counterproductive, don’t you think?”

“I just wanna make sure you’re alright, nothing wrong with that.”

“It is, when it means that you don’t get any sleep either,” you said, now looking up at him too. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were half-lidded. Who knew that ‘sleepy’ was such a handsome look on him.

“S’fine, as long as I’m with you,” Ryland said, voice almost drunk on drowsiness. He began running his hands up and down your back in soothing motions, which automatically loosened your shoulders.

“Why not sleep, question? Friend and Grace ignore Rocky—possibly hate Rocky.” You and Ryland couldn’t help but giggle a little at the offended note in Rocky’s voice. He hated being ignored.

“We don’t hate you, pal,” Ryland said.

“We love you very much,” you added, turning back to him and blowing him a little kiss, which he gratefully accepted by squishing his carapace against his ball. “You know that.”

“Yes, Rocky know. Rocky not know why not sleep.”

“Well, that’s a bit more complicated,” Ryland began. You laid your head back down on his chest, letting the slight vibrations of his voice calm your busy mind. There was not a lot you loved more than listening to Ryland when he started yapping. “There are quite a lot of reasons why people sometimes can’t sleep. It can be outside causes such as loud noises, too much light, or an uncomfortable sleeping environment. Or it can be due to stress, changes in schedules, or if you consumed caffeine before going to sleep.”

“Not know word,” Rocky interrupted.

“It’s a central nervous system stimulant from the methylxanthine class. Y’know how we used to drink coffee while we still had it? Well, that contains caffeine, which keeps you awake,” Ryland explained, and you closed your eyes, letting his voice wash over you.

“Keep awake how, question?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow, okay, pal? My mind can’t really say anything useful right now. Anyway, that can also keep you awake. But all that is mostly short-term. When it comes to long-term sleep problems, there are even more possible reasons, such as hormone changes, or…”

Ryland kept talking while holding you close, caressing you ever so gently. Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep, the feeling of his arms around you like the safest weighted blanket.

The second you opened your eyes that morning, the light greeting you felt like a million little laser beams, shooting right into your eyes. You closed your eyes instantly, groaning a little. Your head was pounding, and even without moving, you could already tell that if you tried to get up right now, you’d probably throw up.

Everything was too loud, too bright, too harsh on your slightly sweaty skin—it was all just too much.

You've had bad days before, days where migraines would take over your body, rendering you basically useless for the next couple of hours. It had something to do with complications after your prolonged coma. Ryland had explained it to you at some point, but you had only barely been listening, too busy trying not to let your thoughts drown in the cotton stuffed in your brain. At the end, you didn’t even care that much where it came from—it wasn’t like you could do much in terms of medical interventions up here—all you knew was that it sucked every time.

Next to you, Ryland was slowly getting up. You could hear him sit up in bed, stretching his limbs.

“Ryland,” you said in a quiet voice—even talking hurt.

“G’morning, honey,” he murmured, luckily matching your volume. He turned to you, placing a kiss on your cheek and then on your nose. When you didn’t react the way you normally would, or opened your eyes at all, he paused. “Everything alright?”

“Got a migraine,” you mumbled, and then, because the word migraine just didn’t quite cut it in your opinion, you added a small, “Hurts.”

“Oh, no. Mary, could you please dim the lights in the med bay?” Ryland whispered, and straightaway, Mary complied, turning the light to a level much more comfortable for your eyes, so that you could at least squint a little without too much pain. If you had the energy for it, you would have kissed him silly for the way he immediately knew what to do to help you. Alas, that had to wait for another day. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

With that, he tiptoed out of the room.

You could hear him converse with Rocky in a quiet voice, probably telling him to stay out of the med bay for a while. It wasn’t anything against the alien; it’s just that due to the nature of his rather clunky transportation means, he wasn’t necessarily able to be silent.

Ryland returned after a couple of minutes, carrying a pouch of water, some pain meds, a bit of dried fruit, an ice pack, and some of the pillows you usually stored in the Don’t Go Crazy room.

“Here, sweetheart,” he said and placed the things next to you on the bed. He then helped you sit up, placing a pillow behind your back so that you could lean against it.

“Thank you,” you said in a subdued voice.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I know you’re thankful.” Ryland winked at you, and you couldn’t help but snort at his ridiculous expression. How did you ever get so lucky?

He opened the pouch of water and handed it to you along with two pills. You swallowed them with the water, and then, at his encouragement, emptied the pouch. He placed the ice pack on your forehead, which made you exhale deeply in relief.

“There you go,” he said, running a hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face. “You wanna sleep a bit more?”

You hummed, already feeling the heavy arms of slumber embracing you.

“Can I join you for a bit?” Ryland asked, and when you nodded, he gently moved you to the side so that he could lie down as well. When he was horizontal, he turned to you, placing an arm over your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “Is that all right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” you said, and gathered all your strength to sleepily blink at him. “But I want to thank you. You’re always so kind to me.”

“Everyone should always be kind to you.” He said it in such an easy way that it made you tear up a little. He laughed gently at that, shushing you and wiping any wetness from your eyes. “C’mon, sleep now. Everything will be better once you wake up.”

When you woke up hours later, Ryland still had his arm around you. Rocky had, unbeknownst to you guys, sneaked in as well, and was now perched next to your bed, watching over you. Your migraine was gone for the most part, but still, you closed your eyes again, wanting to enjoy the moment for just a bit longer.

Your back still hurt.

It had been almost a month now since you cleaned up the Hail Mary a bit, and what you hoped would only be a temporary annoyance turned into a daily frustration.

Sitting hurt. Laying hurt. Walking hurt. Existing hurt!

Your days were filled with back pain—which in your humble opinion was one of the worst kind of pains—and your nights were spend tossing and turning trying to find a position that won’t make you want to claw out your eyes when you woke up the next morning.

You had bent your body in so many positions trying to find that one spot that’ll make the pain suddenly disappear. You could probably create an entire musical only out of the sound of your back cracking.

Now you were lying on the cool floor, eyes fixated on the ceiling, pretending like your back was not making you want to eject yourself into space.

You heard the familiar clatter of Rocky approaching before you saw him. The alien stopped by your head, looking down at you. “What is Friend doing, question?”

“Trying to pretend like I don’t exist,” you replied.

“Friend exist. Why pretend not to, question? Does not make sense.”

“It’s an expression,” you said, waving him off.

Rocky hummed and continued looking at you in a way that made it clear that he was doubting you. After a couple of seconds, he turned around and rolled away without another word.

You scoffed. “Goodbye to you, too, buddy.”

You closed your eyes, only to hear Rocky come back again, this time with Ryland in tow.

“Is not expression,” Rocky said, a distinct note of pride evident in his voice. “Grace say is dramatics.”

“Hey,” you exclaimed and shot up, turning to glare at Ryland. However, the sudden movement made a flash of pain strike through you, making you whine out and sink back down to the floor.  

To his credit, Ryland immediately dropped to his knees next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, shoot! I thought you were just teaching Rocky wrong sayings again, I didn’t know you were actually in pain.”

That was fair, you had spent a significant amount of time lying to Rocky about what Earth culture and languages had to offer. When Ryland found out he shut that down quickly, stating that it was both not smart to lie to an alien whose world you guys were going to live on, and a little unethical. You begrudgingly agreed to stop, even though you were certain that Rocky was doing the same to you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, frowning as you adjusted your position on the floor. “It’s my back.”

“It still hurts?” Ryland asked, moving his hand from your shoulder to your face, where his thumb gently stroked your cheek.

“Friend is in pain a lot. Not good. Not good, statement! Bad, bad, bad! What can Rocky and Grace do, question?” Rocky asked, chirping anxiously.  

“I don’t know, Rock,” you sighed. “Maybe you should just put me out of my misery.”

Ryland pinched your nose at that, shaking his head, while Rocky asked, “What mean ‘put out of misery’, question?”

“Nothing. It’s—don’t worry about it, pal,” Ryland said, and then turned his attention back to you. “But seriously, is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know.” You batted your eyelashes up at him. “Maybe I could get some more of those sweet, sweet painkillers?”

Ryland clicked his tongue. “You know it’s not good, sweetheart.”

You had run out of ibuprofen about a week ago, and now the only thing still on board was the heavier medication. It left you very drowsy most of the time, so it really wasn’t something you should just take willy-nilly. Plus, you should probably store it in case something really drastic happened, like one of you loses a limb, or you land on Erid and one of the Eridians decides to shoot the weird aliens, and you need to recover from an extraterrestrial gunshot wound.  

“Then I guess I am made to suffer. It’s my lot in life,” you said, sighing dramatically and stretching your arms to run your hands through Ryland’s hair.

“Don’t quote A New Hopeto me,” Ryland said, grinning at you. Then his eyes suddenly lit up, as an idea flashed through them. “You want me to give you a back massage?”

“Yes,” you replied instantly. Why didn’t you think of that? It would involve two of your favorite things: hopefully stopping the pain you were in and getting Ryland’s hands all over your body. “Definitely. One hundred percent.”

You made to turn over, ready to let him work his magic, when he stopped you, chuckling a little. “Not here on the floor, that’ll only make it worse. C’mon.”

He helped you stand up, and then led you toward the med bay, where you sat down on your bed. Rocky had followed you and watched ever curiously as you took off your shirt, leaving you only in a white tank top.

“What doing now, question?” Rocky asked, rolling closer to your bed.

“You don’t know what a massage is?” Ryland replied while gently pushing you to lie down. “I guess that makes sense, can’t really massage a carapace.”

“He’s going to basically press down on my back and shoulders, and knead the skin there,” you answered Rocky’s question, and then closed your eyes when you felt Ryland’s warm hands stroke over your back, pushing up your tank top.

“Sound not nice,” Rocky said slowly.

“It can be a little painful if you’re very tense, but it definitely helps afterwards.” Ryland started massaging your shoulders, and you let out a relaxed little hum.

“And I’ll definitely make sure it’s nice,” Ryland said, and gave you a quick kiss to the nape of your neck.

Rocky watched Ryland massage you for a couple of seconds longer before he rolled back a little. “Is not nice. Is disgust! Human blob very squishy. Rocky work on something away from friends.”

With that, he rolled out of the room. His dramatic exit made you and Ryland giggle a bit, but then Ryland continued massaging you and you practically melted in his hands.

You were sitting in the Don’t Go Crazy room with Ryland and Rocky watching some mindless action flick you were only partially paying attention to. Truthfully, you had only chosen the film because, as it turned out, Rocky absolutely loved action films, and Ryland loved complaining about the impossible physics of them. 

(You had watched all the Mission Impossible films, and Rocky spent the next couple of days pointing at random objects and stating that they would self-destruct in five seconds.)

Your head was perched on Ryland’s lap, and he was mindlessly running a hand over your hair, caressing it gently. You loved when he played with your hair, and he loved running his fingers through it, so it was a win-win situation for both of you. Now and then he’d tuck some strands behind your ear or scratch your scalp, which only made you relax into him more.

“Your hair is so soft,” Ryland murmured. “I don’t know how that is still possible up here.”

“Pure luck, I guess,” you answered, which made him chuckle a little. “Your hair is soft too, though.”

“Not as soft as yours,” he argued.

You lifted your hand, touching his blond strands. “I don’t know about that.”

Ryland grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing your wedding ring. “Might need to cut it again soon.”

“I like it when it’s a little shaggy.”

“Yeah?” Ryland asked, raising an eyebrow. When you nodded, he continued playing with your hair. “My kids used to bully me every time my hair got too long. It was actually quite a good way to keep track of time—whenever they started calling me Prince Charming, I knew it was time for a trim.”  

You weren’t sure whether that was something you had known back on Earth; not all of your memories had returned yet, so you and Ryland mostly just said everything out loud, even if it was from a time you knew each other already.

“Prince Charming? When it comes to nicknames by middle schoolers, I think it could be a lot worse,” you said.

“They meant the one from Shrek,” Ryland replied in a deadpan voice.

“Oh,” you laughed.

“Friends very loud, statement! Rocky want to watch film but cannot because friends talking. Rude, rude, rude,” Rocky suddenly piped up.

Ryland rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Don’t be dramatic, Rock.”

“Am not,” Rocky said.

He was being a little dramatic. His hearing was too good for your hushed voices to actually drown out the very loud film, and you also watched with subtitles, and you knew Rocky could read basic English.

“Well—” Ryland started, but was cut off by Rocky.

“Shush!” the alien said quite passionately. Ryland looked so put-off for a second, you sat up laughing too hard.   

“He got that from you,” you whispered through your giggles, which made Ryland pull you closer, wrapping an arm around your middle and squeezing you.

“You heard Rocky—shush.” He kissed you on the temple, and then moved his mouth a little lower to whisper in your ear, “Do you want me to braid your hair for bed?”

“Please,” you whispered back, shutting up quickly when you noticed Rocky tilting his carapace in your direction.

Behind you, Ryland started separating your hair into three sections. Now and then, he would give you a lingering kiss on your hair or shoulder, making shivers run down your spine every time.  

It wasn’t the first time he had braided your hair, so it didn’t take long for him to reach the end, using your hair tie always present on his wrist to secure the braid. He pushed it over your shoulder, and then hugged you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I would have definitely forgotten about it and then gotten annoyed in the morning.”

“I know,” Ryland replied, tilting his head and smiling at you.

Then Rocky made a loud squeaking sound that you were sure was supposed to be him clearing his throat, and you looked back at the screen, trying to pay attention to whatever was happening in the film.

Ryland kept his arms around you, holding you close.

It was finally time for revenge!

Well, revenge was maybe a very strong word for something that was more or less just you trying to spoil your husband, but it made it more fun to think of it that way.

Ryland had been taking care of you almost nonstop, and today you would finally return the gesture. He had woken up looking a little paler than usual, and even after breakfast he still hadn’t regained the color in his face.

It took some probing from you, and some well-meaning (but also a little concerning) threats from Rocky, for Ryland to confess that he had a bit of a headache and generally wasn’t feeling that well.

He insisted that it was probably nothing, just the stress catching up with him late, and while you agreed that seemed the most likely, you also weren’t going to let him pretend that everything was all right. In fact, you were almost giddy at the idea of finally being able to be the one to send him to bed, ready to take care of him.

When you walked into the med bay, Ryland was sitting on your bed with his shoulders slumped and head tilted down. He noticed you and instantly made to get up, probably to take some of the things you were carrying, but you were having none of it.

“Nope,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “Lie down right now.”

“Sweetheart, come on. I’m fine,” he said exasperatedly.

But you just shook your head, otherwise not moving. “Mm-mm. I’m not coming closer until you lie down.”

“That’s just cruel,” Ryland muttered, but he did as you told and lay down. You smiled at him for that, finally joining him by the bed.

“Here,” you handed him some water and a pill.

“What is that?” Ryland asked, taking both and inspecting the pill closer. “Wait, is that…”

“Ibuprofen,” you said proudly. “I kept some for you. It felt unfair that I would use them all, but I knew if I told you there were more, you’d make me take them.”

“That’s… sweetheart, you were in a lot of pain recently and,” he sighed, trying to give you back the pill, but you wouldn’t let him. “You need them more than me. That’s not unfair, that’s just the reality of the situation.”

“Right now, I don’t,” you replied, pushing his hand away. “Either you take it, or I’ll make Rocky roll over it to crush it.”

“What? That’s—that’s ridiculous and a total waste.”

“Exactly, so you better take it.”

Ryland looked at you, trying to figure out whether you were being serious, and instead of answering, Rocky rolled in, saying, “Rocky ready to crush.”

“Alright, alright,” Ryland said. He swallowed the pill along with some of the water and then smiled at you a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, smiling back. “Now let me feed you some soup.” You lifted the bowl of instant soup as if trying to entice him.

“You don’t need to feed me, honey,” Ryland said, chuckling. He tried to reach for the spoon you were holding, but you pulled it back at the last second.

“Nuh-uh. Today I’m taking care of you,” you stated, scooping up some of the soup on the spoon, blowing on it to cool it, and then bringing it to Ryland’s mouth.

He looked down at it skeptically before looking back up at you. “What, is Rocky going to crush the soup if I don’t eat it?”

“If Grace does not eat, Rocky crush Grace,” Rocky said in what you found to be a quite self-satisfied tone.

 Ryland looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“You heard the alien,” you said, shrugging.

Ryland sighed before opening his mouth a little, letting you feed him.

“It’s not too hot?” You asked, already ladling up more.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Ryland said, smiling.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you said, winking at him as you repeated his own words.

Ryland shook his head, eating more of the soup. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one here,” you replied.

“Rocky lucky, too,” Rocky chirped from where he sat on the floor.

You grinned at him. “I guess we’re all pretty lucky here, all things considered. I can’t think of two people I’d rather be stuck in space with.”

When you turned back toward Ryland, he was already looking at you like you had hung the moon, eyes wide, full of sincerity, and maybe even a little glassy—although you couldn’t tell whether that came from his ill health or genuine tears.

“I love you,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he had said it to you—obviously considering your marital status—but it hit you the same way it did the first time. It felt like being struck by lightning, only in the best way possible.

“I love you, too,” you said, and leaned down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Rocky love too,” Rocky said.

“And we love you, pal,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his Xenonite ball, too. It was a gesture you knew he didn’t love but accepted because he knew it was your way of showing your affection.

You spent the next couple of hours feeding Ryland the soup, running your hands through his hair, and talking in a quiet voice until he finally fell asleep in your arms. You looked down at your husband’s sleeping form, his face so relaxed and unburdened, and held him even closer.