The Lee In Yellow

Ryland was starting to notice something about you. The days on the Hail Mary were typically long ones considering neither of you really went to bed at a regular hour. The synchronized clocks on the ship often went unnoticed as there was constantly something new to figure out about the mission. While Ryland was guilty of having a terrible sleep schedule, he couldn’t help but frown at the sight of you hunched over the lab table late into the night.

He saw the dark circles sagging beneath your eyes and each day they seemed to get more prominent. If he had to think about it, he didn’t really see you sleep that often, aside from a small nap here and there but naps weren’t enough compared to the full eight hours required to have a restful night.

Ryland could probably count the amount of hours you’ve slept on a single hand, and tonight was no different. He found you sitting at the lab table once again, scribbling down complex math equations.

“You should head to bed. You’ve been hunched over that notebook for hours,” Ryland said, standing by the archway between the corridor and laboratory.

“I will soon,” You mumbled. You didn’t even bother looking up from what you were doing.

Ryland wasn’t going to take that as an answer. He walked over, hands in his pockets as he stopped right next to you. You saw him from your peripheral and looked up.

The blueish tint of skin under your eyes formed near semicircles and the way you squinted up at him made them stand out even more. He frowned. “Your eyebags are worsening.”

You slowly blinked. “It’s fine. They’ll go away after some rest.” But he knew that some rest to you was just a thirty-minute nap at best.

Ryland crossed his arms. “When was the last time you slept more than two hours?”

There was a long pause. You stared at him before your gaze started to drift off to the side. Your lips screwed up in shapes, trying to mentally count and remember when you last properly slept.

“Uh…two…no…fffo—fi—er…” You had to resort to using your fingers to count. Ryland watched as you recounted over and over, bending your fingers up and down.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. You couldn’t even remember when you last slept a full night!

“Some time ago,” You said as if that was a solid conclusion.

“You think?” He responded in exasperation. “Okay, put the pencil down, we’re going to bed right now.”

“Huh? But I’m not done—“

“You can finish tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep. And I mean the full eight hour sleep. Not a two hour nap.” Ryland was going to make sure you go to bed no matter the cost. But you were not one to make things easy.

You stared at him. “No.”

His eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no.” Oh you were in big trouble.

Ryland heaved a sigh through his nose. He gave you a look, the one you assumed he gave his students when they had been disruptive or said something inappropriate. You weren’t backing down. Not without a fight.

“I’m going to count to three. And if you don’t get up and walk yourself to bed, I will drag you there myself,” he said.

You didn’t break eye contact. “I dare you.”

It was like a stand off between the two of you. Ryland stood there, his arms now lowered to his sides. You remained seated on the stool. No one moved from their spots.

“One…”

You kept staring at Ryland.

“Two…”

His hands flexed.

“… two and a half…”

At this point, you turned around and went back to completing the equations. Ryland was flabbergasted by your dismissal. That always worked on the kids! They would immediately apologize after. Or if they decided to be a little snarky, he’d tell them he had to call their parents. Or tell them they would have to stay after school. That would shut them up real fast. Unfortunately, neither option was possible in this situation.

“I mean it! I’ll drag you to bed and tie you to it!” He sounded a bit more desperate, waving his arms around.

“Kinky.” Was all you said back.

That made Ryland blush red, either from frustration or the insinuation, he wasn’t sure but what he did know was that you were more stubborn than any student he’s ever dealt with.

“That does it…” He muttered under his breath. “You wanna play hardball, then I’ll play it your way.”

Ryland stepped up behind you, wrapped his arms around your middle, and pulled. It would’ve worked had you not already been gripping at the table. Ryland was a strong man, the muscles he gained during the coma were not just for show, but even he struggled trying to yank you away from the table. You had the death grip of an infant!

“Let! Go!” He huffed between each pull.

“No!” You hissed back. You even went as far as hooking your feet around the bolted legs of the stool.

His grip around you was starting to slip so he readjusted, his hands clawing into your sides to get a better grasp. Though the sudden squeak that tumbled out of your mouth startled him so much he almost let go out of reflex, worried he had hurt you.

“Shoot, did that hurt?” Ryland asked, trying to peek over your shoulder to see your face.

One of your hands had let go of the table and was slapped over your mouth. You didn’t say anything in response to Ryland’s worries, afraid that if you did, you would expose yourself right then and there. Ryland’s hands squeezed gently at your sides again, testing to see if you were hurt anywhere and if he may have agitated a bruise or something.

You flinched, folding in on yourself. Your hand was pressed against your mouth to muffle another squeak. Ryland was still very much confused by your reaction. You weren’t yelping or hitting him in distress or pain so you didn’t seem to be hurt. He squinted. The tips of your ears were red and he saw some color dust across your cheeks that were raised, as if you were smiling. He was slowly putting the pieces together.

“Wait… are you…?” Ryland whispered.

Oh no.

You shook your head before he could even finish. Ryland grinned. “Oh, you are.”

You weren’t even given a countdown this time before his fingers began wiggling into your sides. They pinched and squeezed through your clothes. Unfortunately for you, you were only wearing a thin graphic t-shirt and baggy sweats. Wearing the corduroy jumpsuit had felt too restrictive so you opted for looser and more comfortable clothing. You regret your decision now.

Your whole body folded in on itself as you twisted in Ryland’s arms. He kept one arm wrapped around your chest and used that hand to scribble underneath your exposed armpit while the other one sneakily slipped under the hem of your shirt, dragging his nails across the waistline of your pants.

You snorted, desperately trying to fight back the giggles and squeals that threatened to spill. Your free hand slapped Ryland's arm repeatedly, but he was unphased.

“Aw, what’s the matter? You did this to yourself. You could make it all stop if you just, let go.” He cooed right next to your ear. You shook your head. “No? Then I guess I’ll keep going until you change your mind.”

The hand underneath your arm shifted just a bit higher, moving up to get to the underside of your bicep. He tugged lightly at the short sleeve, worming his fingers through the opening to tease the sensitive hollow. You flapped your arm helplessly, but you couldn’t exactly squeeze it down since you were still holding onto the table.

“Snrt!” Another snort slipped out, followed by a few giggles bubbling up your throat. Your eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed as your lips twisted to hold back your laughter.

“C’mooon, you can’t fight it forever. I’ll just keep tickling you until you can’t take it anymore,” Ryland teased. He even went as far as rubbing his slightly grown out stubble against your neck while he danced his fingers around your stomach.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your face was near red as a tomato, cheeks comically blown up before you broke. “BWAHA NO—!” You shrieked. Your hand slipped from the table, leaving only your legs still hooked around the stool. Your hands slapped and pulled at Ryland’s, anything to relieve the unbearable ticklish sensation spreading across your torso. “Ryhyhy! Stohop ihit!”

Ryland’s face had the biggest grin as he watched you fall apart. He wished he could turn you around and see your expressions though. “See, I knew you could do it! Now we just need those legs loose.”

He leaned forward slightly and clawed at your thigh without remorse, even going between where your thigh meets your hip. You squealed and kicked out, freeing one leg. “Now the other.” He did the same to the other side and you pleaded through your uncontrollable giggles. This was completely unfair!

With one final tug, Ryland had you suspended in his arms like a cat, arms and legs dangling as you caught your breath. You still giggled a little from the tingling sensations. He didn't make a comment about it and simply carried you to the dormitory. Both beds were ready and made thanks to Armando.

He plopped you down on yours, that stupid grin still playing on his lips. “You lost, so now it’s bedtime.”

You grumbled under your breath at his words, crossing your arms. “Cheater.”

Ryland chuckled and ruffled your hair. He grabbed one of the blankets and tossed it over your legs. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

You watched him make his way to the neighboring bunk and settle down on it. The lights of the dormitory dimmed but remained light enough to faintly make out your surroundings and Ryland’s figure just a couple feet away. You reluctantly laid down on the plush mattress.

The minutes ticked by and you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tossed and turned, pulled the blanket over your head, buried your face into the pillow—everything! Nothing was working. You huffed out openly. If you can’t sleep, might as well do something productive. You still have to map out a path towards Tau Ceti-E, calculate the rest of the Astrophage stored in the tanks and draft up a work-in-progress device with Rocky to collect samples of astrophage from the exoplanet. There was so much to do and not enough time.

You laid there in silence for a couple more minutes until your brain was screaming at you to get up and go back to work. Ryland could sleep all he wanted but you had things to do. Tossing the blanket off, you pushed yourself to sit up—and immediately you were shoved back down. You let out a startled gasp, eyes blinking in the low light until you saw the outline of Ryland’s form hovering above you. The glint of his glasses made him look like some kind of villain.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He mumbled, voice slightly gravely.

You gulped. “Uh… the bathroom?”

A few seconds of silence passed. “You are such a bad liar.” And then you felt it.

Ryland’s hands crawled under your shirt and skittered up your sides. You squealed and attempted to curl up but Ryland just pushed you back against the mattress. His fingers clawed along the underside of your back causing you to arch into the air and cackle.

“If not bed time, then tickle time.”

You could barely see anything and that made everything ten times worse. Your hands balled up into fists and pushed at Ryland’s shoulders, your head thrown back as uncontrollable giggles and squeaks filled the dormitory.

“RHylahahand!! No plehease!” You whined.

Ryland just chuckled under his breath. You felt him lean down, his weight holding you in place as you tried to twist and squirm away. His hands just followed every single one of your movements. “Liars get punished. That’s the law.” His thumbs massaged between your ribs while the rest of his fingers scribbled along the back of your ribcage.

Your torso bounced up and down as you wailed out hysterically. Your brain was overwhelmed by the unbearable ticklish sensations electrifying your nerves. Being tickled into absolute oblivion made it impossible for you to listen to any of the nagging voices in your head about going back to work.

All of a sudden Ryland pulled his hands away and raised them in the air above you. You were left giggling and confused as you peeked open your eyes. He grinned down at you, fingers wiggling in a taunt.

“One.”

Oh fuck no.

You tried to buck him off but it was futile.

“Two.”

Giggles bubbled up again, your hands held out in defense to block the upcoming threat. “Nohoho waihit! Waihit plehehease!”

Ryland paused the countdown, a shiteating smirk on his face as he saw you flinch in anticipation.

“Three.”

He dropped his hands down to your hips, his thumbs slotting themselves just below the bones and digging into that sensitive muscle. You jerked beneath, a shrill sound escaping you before you fell into deep laughter.

It was at this point that Ryland noticed you weren’t fighting back as much. One hand tugged weakly at his shirt and the other pressed into your face, half hiding half acting as some form of grounding. It was cute but he wanted to see your expressions.

He pulled your arm away from your face and pinned it above your head and—jesus, did his heart skip a beat at the sight. The dim lighting softened your features, creating an almost halo effect. Your smile was wide, cheeks raised, and flushed, just faintly visible underneath the low light. Your hair was slightly tousled, pieces falling into your face, but he could still see the way your eyes squinted into crescents from how much you were laughing. You were absolutely glowing.

Ryland’s hand eased up on its prodding, now gently tracing along the edges of your hip. Your laughter died down into hiccupy giggles, shimmying when Ryland’s nails teased a bit too inward.

“Plehehease… noho mohohore. I’m tihired…” you whimpered at Ryland, eyes teary with mirth. That wobbly smile of yours made Ryland’s heart tremble.

“Are you sure? Are you tired enough to go to bed? Because I can keep going if you’re not feeling it just yet.” He mused softly. His fingers gave a quick scribble over your hip and you squeaked, a burst of giggles tumbling from your lips. The sound was enough to make Ryland awe audibly.

“Yehes! I aHaham! I’ll go to bed! I will!” You pleaded.

Ryland finally released your wrist and removed his hand from your hip. He chuckled in amusement when you just laid there, breathing heavily and not even bothering to fix your shirt (he did it for you and grinned at the few giggles he got from doing so).

“Fihinally…” you breathed out a heavy sigh, eyes shutting as a wave of drowsiness washed over you.

Ryland could see you were telling the truth about being tired. He went to move off of you but a weak tug on his shirt stopped him. He looked down and saw you looking up at him through lidded eyes. “Stay…” you murmured out.

An arrow struck right at Ryland’s heart. He couldn’t say no to that. The cots were a bit small for two people but Ryland managed by rolling on his side and pulling you in close against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist and you tangled your legs with his. It was undeniably the warmest and coziest Ryland’s ever felt in his entire life.

He couldn’t help but drag his fingers up your spine as a last minute tickle. You squeaked and giggled, burying your face into his chest. “Ryland!”

He laughed softly. “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it. I’m done, I swear.”

The two of you settled in a comfortable snuggle, arms draped over each other, your forehead pressed right against his chest. He realized after a couple minutes that you were already fast asleep. Your lips parted as you breathed out steady puffs of air. His hand cradled the back of your head as his fingers brushed through your soft locks. He gave you a little squeeze.

you wouldn't even have to say anything about it, he's perceptive enough for the both of you. but he Will tease you to hell and back about it. sorry.

so like i already pointed out in the other post - he has a Teasing Voice that's very prominent. it's the mix of sounding like he's kidding around - like you're both in on a little secret joke - and at the same time aiming it Directly at you because he knows how to get to you.

"now, was that so terrible?" or variations thereof are very common in these situations: after wrecking you till you're gasping, once he has successfully manoeuvred you into his arms to get you, and - god forbid - making you admit you want him to tickle you

i don't think he's big into restraining - from seeing how he's like with buttercup, he's gentle. i think at most he would lock you into a hug, straddle your hips, or block you in against a wall. i have a feeling deep in my bones that he actually likes it more when the lee is free to squirm around. he gets a kick out of it, im sure.

if you call him mean as he's tickling you he's just gonna raise his eyebrows and (attempt to) hold back a grin. "oh, im mean, am i? how about this?" and he's switching spots and/or technique and/or increasing the intensity of the tickling "is this mean? yeah? is it More or Less mean than before? more? ah, so i wasn't mean earlier after all. good to know."

okay i took a lap around my room im back with a horrid thought

he's very good at sensing when you're craving/in need of some tickling. how he goes about it depends entirely on how he's feeling on the day. for example

if youre hanging around, maybe laying on the grass outside somewhere, hed study you for a moment, then roll on top of you

"now" he'd say, straightening to sit back on his knees "where would you like me to tickle you?"

if you start stuttering out objections that you don't want that, or, what are you talking about westley, or, what gave you that idea

he'd cover your mouth with his palm lightly and give you A Look like "either you give me a starting point, or i choose a spot myself - and i can't promise to be merciful"

so yeah haha rip my stupid chungus life

generally, i think he's happy enough to just get you without making you say anything outright to him. he knows it's part of the game, and he likes playing his part

he is, however, sometimes struck with the need to be a bit meaner - specifically in the instances where you're trying to bait him into tickling you

so, yeah, sometimes? he absolutely pretends not to know what you're doing until you're huffing and flustered and frustrated and only then does he crack the facade with a knowing, smug grin.

you'd point a finger at him like "you knew!!!!!!!!" and he looovveesss to see you a little frazzled and very flushed

"of course i knew" he'd say, crossing his arms and looking you up and down

and youre confused and looking at him like "then???? whats the issue here???"

"ask me" and when you visibly fluster even more, unable to find your words, he clicks his tongue like "oh dear, we are in trouble" but hes so smug about it

good luck if you're susceptible to faux sympathy and gentle mocking - he's def the type so go "oh dear, oh dear"/"awh i know, that's really ticklish, isn't it?"

okay im clocking out, that's all ive got

///

You had, in all honesty, stopped thinking about it.

Okay, maybe not completely. But for the most part. Generally.

Spencer didn't bring it up. You sure as hell weren't going to bring it up. And so what if you focused on every lingering touch, wishing it would go further, hoping his fingers would curl against your shirt, brush against your skin.

So; kind of stopped thinking about it.

It all came to a head in the back of an SUV, on the way to middle-of-nowhere-Vermont.

Spencer nudged his knee against yours across the back seat of the car, and tilted his head at you to lean in closer. You did so easily, remains of sleep clinging to your eyelids from your nap on the plane.

Spencer leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"I bet you twenty bucks they start the silent treatment by the time we get to the crime scene." His breath tickled over your ear, and you could faintly feel the tip of his nose pressing into your hair.

Fighting back against the instinct to twitch away, you focused your eyes on the front seats of the car.

Emily and Derek were still bickering. You had lost track on what they were arguing over about twenty minutes ago. Quite possibly, they also weren't sure what the argument was about anymore, and only continued for the sake of preserving their pride.

You leaned away from Spencer just enough to look him in the eye. "You're on."

You bumped fists to seal the deal.

Deciding to make use of your time, you pulled the case file out of your bag, flicking it open on your lap. Your hand came up absentmindedly to rub the goosebumps from your ear and neck.

You lowered your hand to pull out a map photocopy from the file, needing to refresh your memory on the layout of the area. Then, a prickling feeling rising on the side of your face, your eyes flickered to the right.

Spencer had his book open, but was looking at you analytically. When your eyes met, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You looked back down at your map, heart thudding. Your hand fumbled as you tried to rotate the sheet horizontally to see the marked route better. The seat creaked next to you as Spencer shifted, and you dared a look.

He was smiling knowingly into his novel.

@

Hotch turned from the board to call your name.

"Call Reid - tell him we're narrowing the search radius." He instructed, then addressed the rest of the room. "Great work, everyone."

You pulled your phone out, stepping across the police department to find a quiet - well, quieter - corner to make the call. You tucked yourself in between a bookcase and a plant, dialing.

Spencer picked up on the second ring.

"Yeah, what's up?" He sounded slightly out of breath.

"We're narrowing the search radius." You said. "Garcia is sending the map over."

"Oh good." Spencer said. "It's like these woods never end."

"Well, we are in the sticks." You mused, then frowned. "You okay? You sound…wheezy."

"Got caught in some brambles." Spencer's voice turned wry. "I think I tore my pants."

You grinned. "Hey, you should watch out for the brambles."

"Oh, you're funny."

You laughed lightly, rubbing at one of the leaves on the plant you stood by.

Plastic.

Figures.

"Your laugh is cute."

Your cheeks warmed. "It's okay, I guess."

"I only really got to hear it that one time." Spencer continued, breaching the unspoken silence on your mutual discoveries.

"I laugh all the time." You deflected, releasing the leaf with a rustle.

"Yeah, but -" you could hear him grunt slightly, as if he was climbing over something "- it's different when I tickled you."

"Don't say that!" You hissed, eyes snapping up to glance around the open-plan desks of the police office. "Not in public."

"I'm alone."

"Yeah, well, I'm not." You emphasized.

He hummed. "Better keep your cool over there, then."

"Don't be a jerk."

"I was thinking about something." Spencer said, with renewed vigor, completely ignoring your complaints.

You stayed silent, eyes still flickering across the room.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what it is?"

You heaved a sigh, switching your phone to your other hand. "Yes, Spencer, what were you thinking about?"

"I'd like to tickle you again."

Your ears started ringing.

"Hello?" Spencer prompted. "Did you pass out or something?"

"Oh." You managed to choke out, delayed.

"Yeah 'oh'." The grin in his voice was clear. "Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this, too."

"Don't-" Your eyes swept across the room again, then you turned partly towards the wall, hunching in on yourself, to whisper harshly into the phone. "-I'm not talking about this here."

"Alright." Spencer agreed. "Let's talk later."

"Let's not talk-" You cut yourself off at his snicker. "I'm hanging up."

You cut his laugh off by smacking the hang up button on your phone.

Shoving the device deep into your trouser pocket, you stomped your way back to the desk that's been freed up for your work. Pretended not to see the banished police officer give you dirty looks over the aforementioned desk. Pretended your face wasn't visibly red from the conversation you just had with Spencer. Determined to focus on the case, to not think about any of that, to fully immerse yourself in your work.

You tried not to think about the assigned roommate agreements on work trips.

@

You tossed your duffel bag to the floor carelessly, shoes following, and flopped yourself onto the bed. Arms stretched out wide to either side, you groaned from deep in your chest as you felt your spine slowly decompress, back aching more and more at first before settling into loose jello.

There was a weird stain on the ceiling.

Eyes glued to it, you blindly reached down to pull your socks off.

It didn't look like blood.

You really hoped it wasn't blood. You were already here on a case, it would suck so bad if you got caught up in a whole new one - as a witness, no less.

You tossed the socks. One landed on top of the coffee table.

"Ugh." You declared, dropping back against the duvet.

You heard the click of a key card, and the door to the hotel room opened, revealing Spencer with is own bag. He had shed his jacket and sweater, both slung over his forearm.

"Comfy?" He asked, toeing off his shoes.

"Mmh." You grunted. "Desk chair at the station is not ergonomic."

Spencer winced sympathetically, leaving his belongings on the coffee table - and moving your sock to the chair. He sat on the bed you were flopped on, mattress dipping under his weight.

"What?" You asked when he stayed quiet, looking down at you with a soft smile.

The smile stretched at your question, and he shifted to lean some of his weight on his palm by your head. "You said we'd talk later."

"I said no such-" You protested.

"So you don't have questions?"

"So what if I do?" You looked back up at the Suspicious Stain.

"Asking is a good start." Spencer pointed out.

"Ugh! You're impossible." You threw your arms up in frustration, but the heat was low.

"Only one of us is being impossible," Spencer teased. "And it's not me."

You huffed, lacing your fingers together over your stomach. Your foot tapped against the side of the bed.

You did have questions. Like - what do you get out of it? How did you find out about this? Do you know anyone else who's into this? Why do you want to tickle me, specifically? How come you're not freaking out?

You settled on a less personal question.

"Are there, like…" You chewed on the corner of your lips, looking for the right words. "Like how there's comic-cons?"

"Like a tickle-con?" Spencer sounded like he was grinning. You refused to look to confirm. "Not that I've heard."

"Mm."

You picked at the corner of your thumb.

"There's a club, though." Spencer added after a moment, as if sensing that you weren't going to continue the conversation. You felt the tip of his finger press gently into the soft muscle just above your hip.

"And you've…" your heart raced, "been?"

"A couple of times." The finger swirled slowly, once.

"Ah."

"You look spooked." He pointed out, but not unkindly. You felt the weight of his palm rest on your thigh. His voice softened. "No one's gonna force you to go there if you don't want to."

You swallowed thickly, trying to retain some of your dignity. It was crumbling fast.

"I know." You said, finally looking over at Spencer since the conversation began.

Hair flopped into his face from the angle at which he was leaning over you. It curled lightly over his cheekbone, and his eyes were flickering over your face and hands. Profiling or not, you knew he was making an effort not to freak you out.

You reached up to tuck the hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered, just feeling the softness of his curls. Anchoring you.

"But you do want me to tickle you more." Spencer said, keeping that soft tone.

Over blood rushing in your ears, and to your face, you allowed yourself - for the first time in your life - to admit to it out loud.

"Yes."

"Yeah." Spencer's smile turned cheeky. "You're not subtle."

You tugged at his hair in reprimand, making him laugh.

Then, in a swift movement, Spencer swung one leg over you and settled on your upper thighs.

You squeaked, body wobbling under Spencer's shifting weight.

"What's happening right now?" You asked, hands coming up in front of you nervously.

"I'm going to tickle you." Spencer said, easily pinning one of your hands by your head.

"O-oh-" You stuttered, but allowed him to restrain you. He reached across to your exposed side to scribble his fingers lightly.

"You're such a good profiler." Spencer said. "You really couldn't tell what I was going to do?"

You threw your free arm over your eyes, giggling. Your skin tingled underneath his fingers, and not being able to see what he was doing was worse - but you couldn't bring yourself to show your face.

"Is your laugh always this soft?" Spencer continued chatting. "It was quiet last time, too."

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Previous instances where you were tickled had never been this overpowering.

But then, you were never tickled by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer asked, sounding curious this time, rather than teasing. "You got more reactive suddenly."

You shook your head, giggling more.

"No?" Back to the teasing voice. "Okay, let's see if I can make you laugh louder."

With that, wriggled his fingers firmly into your underarm.

You bucked, arm instinctively trying to come down, but you only managed an inch before Spencer's grip on your wrist tightened. Your giggling pitched up into desperate laughter.

"So you can get loud." He said. Then, when you lowered your arm to cover your mouth with your hand instead; "I can still hear you. That's not muffling anything."

You arched your head back against the bed, wanting to escape the ticklish feeling, but not wanting it to end yet.

"Alright, hold on." Spencer said, and his fingers lowered a few inches to your ribs.

Flapping your free hand down from your face, you gulped for air when you laughter slowed into something more wheezy. You curled your fingers into Spencer's shirt where it had bunched up over the waistline of his trousers.

"Almost got it." Spencer said, fingers feeling around, prodding. You were just considering whether you'd be able to form words to ask him what he was doing, when it abruptly became very clear.

When his fingers pressed into a spot around your back, just by the side of your shoulder blade, your whole body jerked like it was electrocuted.

Spencer kept pressing.

A half-yell-half-cackle tore itself from you, and you kept jerking. Even your legs kicked out, thudding loudly against the bed frame.

"That," Spencer informed you over your laughter. "Is what we call a 'death spot'."

"Enough!" You squeaked, tugging at his shirt on instinct.

Spencer stopped right away, leaning back on his legs, hands holding onto your sides loosely. He watched you for an extended moment as you caught your breath.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

You considered this.

Gooey, was the word your mind supplied, then followed with more. Warm. Fuzzy. Relaxed.

Safe.

Loved.

"Dizzy, I think." You croaked, then tilted your chin down to look at Spencer. "How did you know how to do that?"

"I know everything." Spencer grinned, then laughed when you rolled your eyes. He braced both hands on either side of your head and leaned in close to say quietly; "Lots and lots of practice."

He pushed up and off of you in a second, shuffling through the hotel room.

You decided to ignore the implications of that statement, despite the warmth rising in your face again.

Sitting up slowly, you leaned your weight on your elbows, watching him. "We're gonna get a noise complaint."

"That one's on you." Spencer said, re-emerging from the bathroom to hand you a glass of tap water.

"I was under duress." You said, taking the glass from him. From the look on his face, you knew he wasn't fooled by your attempts at covering up your reactions. You drank your water, breaking eye contact.

Spencer shuffled around the room, digging in his bag, as you finished your drink and wriggled yourself up the length of the bed to set the glass on the night stand. By the time you were leaning back onto your side, Spencer was fumbling onto the bed, tossing a chocolate bar at you. It thumped against your shoulder lightly, landing in the small space between your bodies.

Spencer wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "I had a good time, too, just so you know."

You fumbled for the chocolate bar, humming lightly, suddenly feeling timid again.

You heard him huff a little laugh, and his arm tightened slightly. He leaned his cheek against the side of your head. Idly, you pressed your foot into his shin, thinking.

"Do you have a death spot?" You asked.

He shifted, leaning in close to your ear.

You would think that space, being silent, would be a phenomenal place to sleep.

There was no air outside for sound to travel through and the sounds of the Hail Mary were negligible after months of exposure. The only sounds to occasionally catch Grace's attention were that of his roommate, who still insisted on watching him sleep.

"Eridian culture".

The new "because I said so".

Grace huffed, turning to his side and tightly cocooning his blanket around his shoulders.

Despite the seemingly optimal conditions (and going to bed over two hours ago), sleep still hadn't come.

He tried counting sheep, only for his mind to wander as soon as it got bored.

He tried meditating, but the silence was way too loud.

He tried remembering all the elements of the periodic table in numerical order. Then when that was too easy, alphabetical order.

This was silly. He felt silly.

I can identify single-cell star-eating organisms, be kidnapped from my everyday life to help save humanity, get launched into space, survive an induced coma, and only cry a little bit about it, but I can't make myself fall asleep?

After his attempt at deep-pressure soothing via his thin blanket, Grace rolled to his back, flopping his arms to the sides with a dramatic sigh.

Maybe Armando would have warm milk if he asked?

Heavy footfalls and the clinking of a xenonite hamster ball approached.

Great. Grace thought. My nanny is here.

He had kept his eyes closed through all his attempts, but hadn't tried to mask his breathing or sounds of frustration. He knew Rocky would hear him regardless.

"Grace okay, question?" Rocky asked, his musical voice spoken over by the translator.

He opened his eyes, rolling his head to look at him. His carapace was tilted as if looking up at him, the stoney surface showing more emotion than it should.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm alright." Grace said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath him.

The spin drive was active, a test in the lab needing to be run "overnight". Sleeping in gravity was nicer anyways, more natural feeling.

Grace had half a mind to give up on sleeping and just get back to work. If he couldn't rest, he might as well be productive.

"Why Grace not sleep, question? Rocky too loud, question?" Rocky asked, concern in his voice. Or, at least, what Grace had begun to interpret as concern.

"No, you're not being too loud." Grace said, shaking his head. "It's my brain that's too loud."

Rocky made a curious noise, his front legs tapping excitedly. "Humans can hear brain? Amaze!"

Grace held up a hand, chuckling. "No, I can't really hear my brain. I can think in words and sounds, but I can't hear the tissue."

Rocky tilted again, seeming to understand.

"I mean, my brain is busy. Too many thoughts."

Rocky thought for a moment, rocking his hamster ball back and forth.

They had talked about their biological differences enough that they both somewhat understood what "sleep" meant for one other. For Rocky, it was more of an involuntary hard shut-down than what humans had, Grace having to explain circadian rhythm a few times before it clicked.

Being unable to sleep was something briefly brought up, but Rocky hadn't seen until now.

The Eridian looked around the room, thinking.

"Rocky help, question?" He asked. "Don't know how, but Grace show."

Grace hummed, trying to think if they shared enough biology for sleep tricks to be shareable. It was hard to say, but not necessarily impossible.

"I'm assuming you wont let me go back to work without sleeping first?" Grace said, leaning his head on his hand. Rocky shook his carapace.

"Must sleep. Sleep important, statement. Human stupid without sleep."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

Grace sighed, nodding slowly.

"We can try. Any ideas?"

Rocky paused before shaking again. "No. Human sleep different from Eridian sleep. What help humans sleep, question?"

"Generally," Grace started, fidgeting with his hands. "There's a few known tricks. Counting things in your head, clearing your mind, moving your pillow to the other end of the bed, warm drinks. Some even recommend pretending to be asleep, funny enough."

Rocky nodded, taking it all in.

He raised his hands, looking between them as his fingers twitched like he did when working something out.

He looked up.

"Thirty-four." Rocky said, nodding definitively.

Grace paused.

"Thirty-four what, buddy?"

"Things in your head. Thirty-four. Twenty-eight teeth, one tongue, two eyes, one nose, two ears. Thirty-four things in your head." Rocky said, trailing off in confusion when Grace laughed. The human flopped to his back on his mattress, sighing.

"Grace sleep now, question?" Rocky said, hopeful. He looked up at him eagerly, front legs straightened to peak over the edge of the bed. Grace shook his head.

"I meant counting objects or animals to tire your brain out." He said, grinning.

Rocky let out an embarrassed hum, sitting with a loud thunk. "Strange... Understand."

Grace stared to the ceiling, thinking.

"Music helps sometimes. What does music sound like on Erid?"

Rocky paused, thinking.

"Need new word."

Grace sat up, leaning for the nearby laptop. Even with their growing shared vocabulary, he kept it nearby just in case.

"Music is..."

Huh.

How do you describe music?

"Its like, sounds and words to a rhythm, meant to sound pretty?" He tried, hoping it was enough to get close.

"Sound that tells stories?" Rocky asked. "Makes emotion, question?"

"Exactly!" Grace said, finding a slot to create the new word.

"Eridian word is 🎶." He said, the musical tone resonating.

Grace entered the word, nodding thoughtfully.

"What does Eridian music sound like?" He said, setting the laptop aside and turning to him.

"It sound beautiful! Like Eridian word, but longer..." Rocky said, his tone sounding unsure. "Need more words but don't know what words."

Grace laughed. "It's okay, I think I understand."

He reached to the laptop, pulling up some audio recording software.

"Can you sing something for me? I want to hear it."

Rocky tilted again. "Need new word."

"Its when you make music with your voice."

Rocky started, suddenly nervous. He stood, rolling his ball to move back from Grace.

"Rocky is bad at music. Bad, bad, bad." He said, scuttling back and forth as if anxious.

"It can't be that bad! Just something short, I'm really curious." Grace insisted, offering a sincere smile.

"Grace sing first!" He said, stomping a foot into the xenonite.

Now, it was Grace's turn to be nervous. "Oh, no. I'm very bad at singing. Totally tone deaf, actually!" He said, flushing slightly.

"Don't know those words. Grace sing first or Rocky not sing." Rocky said, grumbling.

Grace raised his hands in surrender, blush deepening at the insistence. "Fine, no one's singing today!"

Grace crossed his arms, tapping his fingers as he leaned back against the wall. Stage fright, he guessed, was also a strange universal phenomenon.

"Maybe I just need some exercise or something. Run my body to exhaustion so I can conk out." Grace said idly.

Rocky perked up. "Idea!"

He rolled closer, tapping his legs. "Rocky and Grace play game, question?"

"Game?" Grace said, quirking an eyebrow. "What kind of game?"

Rocky gestured wildly, his voice excited. "Exercise game! Need new word, Eridian game. Players try to keep each other on floor?"

Grace immediately understood.

"Wrestling?" He typed it into the translator as Rocky gave his version. "Like, two people fighting, but not to hurt each other?"

Rocky nodded. Grace chuckled.

"Rocky, you would win. You're much heavier than me."

"Yes, yes, yes! Rocky heavy, make Grace tired fast!" He backed up, making space between them and waving Grace over, offering to let him have the first move.

He did have a point.

"You're also in a ball. You could just run me over."

Rocky scuttled his legs rapidly, trilling. "Rocky will play fair. Trust! Come fight Rocky, squishy human!"

Grace chuckled at his enthusiasm, shrugging and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. "Okay, just be careful. I'm pretty sure you could snap my bones if you wanted to."

Rocky made a sound akin to laughter, moving into an overblown fighting stance. He stretched his legs in a slow pattern around himself, steps wide like a five-legged cowboy in a quickdraw match.

"Rocky will be careful."

Rocky suddenly lurched forward, making Grace yelp as he latched onto his ankles through the "mesh" front section of the xenonite ball. With a tug, he dragged Grace off of his bed with surprising ease.

Grace winced as he crashed to the floor before yelping as Rocky tried to clamber on top of him. He kicked, connecting with the ball and rolling it backwards a few feet as the Eridian scrambled within to regain his footing. Grace rolled to his front, crawling on all fours to gain some distance as his friend charged again, knocking him onto his side.

Grace gasped as he fell, feet flailing to gain purchase to escape. On his side, he couldn't get very fair before Rocky rolled into his chest, making him lie flat on the floor as he climbed up to stand on top of him. The human took a moment to regain his breath before struggling again, cringing as Rocky rapidly shot out his arms to adjust the ball with every movement.

With how Rocky looked when he ran and skittered, Grace was very glad he didn't have too bad of arachnophobia. It was a little unsettling.

"Y'know, you're pretty scary when you're running at me like that." Grace said through gritted teeth, trying to catch the Eridian off guard and throw him off. Rocky just balanced his weight, unbothered, much to the humans dismay.

"Scary, question?" Rocky asked, voice incredulous. Grace nodded.

"Yeah, like some kind of big spider monster."

Rocky quirked his carapace. "New word?"

Grace laughed, the sound further pressed out of him under the weight and the rush of endorphins. "Predator animal that's not real, made up as a scary story."

"Oh!" Rocky said, perking up. "Eridian word is 🎶🎵!" He rocked back and forth in his ball, making Grace wheeze. He still tried to squirm, but it was clear he wouldn't be able to get away.

"Eridians have many of those stories!"

Grace looked up with wide eyes, suddenly curious. "Really? You'll have to tell me some sometime." He grinned, excited by the idea of sharing campfire tales with someone brought up in a completely different culture. He'd have to jot some down for the scientists back home.

"Rocky tell Grace one right now!" Rocky said, backing up a little so the ball sat over his stomach. It wasn't the most comfortable, but he could breathe a little better, so Grace took it.

Grace propped himself up on his elbows to look at Rocky, curious. "Right now? I thought we were wrestling."

"Story is relevant, statement." Rocky said, tapping a leg as punctuation. Grace shrugged.

"Long time ago," Rocky started, his voice carrying a dramatic tone over the sound of the translator. "There was 🎶🎵🎶🎶. She was a large 🎶🎵, like Eridian, but big, big, big."

As he spoke, he gestured animatedly, making many different signs and movements with his arms as if acting out the scene. Grace was captivated, imagining a massive Eridian with powerful legs that shook the ground with each step.

"🎶🎵🎶🎶 was a kind being. Big, but gentle and calm. Old Eridian story say she watch over lonely Eridians when they sleep and keep dumb Eridians out of trouble."

In Grace's mind, he pictured the lumbering beast of a creature standing guardian over an Eridian dwelling, a loyal sentinel in the eternal night of Erid's dense skies. Grace smiled as he listened, allowing his overtired imagination to wander.

"She was known for another thing too. A punishment all Eridians fear." Rocky paused dramatically, his hands freezing in the air as if waiting. Grace raised an eyebrow.

"Punishment? I thought you said she was nice."

Rocky nodded, waggling his carapace. "She is."

Grace made a confused face, his nose scrunching up. "Then what..?"

"She was also known as 🎵🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶." Rocky said, looking down in a way that made it seem like that was supposed to strike a chord.

"Uh... I don't know what that meANS-" Grace shouted as Rocky dropped his arms, pressing his hands through the xenonite mesh to skitter briefly over Grace's stomach. He pulled away, watching as realization bled across his human friends features.

In the early biology explainations, there was a shocking number of shared traits between humans and Eridians. Nerve endings were one that had confused Grace, originally thinking that Rocky's sense of touch would be dulled by his carapace. In reality, that was the furthest from the truth. Rocky had reported that Eridians were actually extremely touch sensitive.

Which meant Eridians could be ticklish. A theory that was confirmed as Grace felt a familiar, overwhelming swirl of anxiety in his gut.

Eridian legends had a tickle monster.

And he had just fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Oh... Oh god no..."

A nervous smile began to push it's way across his face, sleep deprivation preventing him from suppressing it. Rocky clicked his hands together, chirping in amusement.

"Actually bud, I think I'm tired out. The wrestling and the story did it for me!" Grace said, arms shaking with the instinct to protect himself. Rocky shook his carapace.

"No, Rocky not done helping. Must make sure you sleep."

Grace tried to scoot backwards, unable to slide himself from under Rocky's weight. Rocky chittered.

"Rocky will be careful to not hurt stupid squishy skin." He reassured, adjusting before digging in.

Ryland Grace, humanities last hope, squealed.

Despite the xenonite and the rock hard fingers, Rocky was surprisingly gentle. Grace knew this, logically, after watching him with his xenonite building device, but who'd have known?

Grace threw his head back, his arms shooting to push against the hamster ball as he let out a stream of high pitched giggling. Rocky only had two hands working him over, pinching and scribbling across his belly and lower ribs, but it was so bad. Grace couldn't tell if it was the months without physical contact or if he was just unbearably sensitive.

"Rocky-! Knock it off!" He begged through his laughter, yelping as the tormenting fingers vibrated into his sides. Behind Rocky, he kicked his legs, banging his heels against the floor. Rocky was unfazed.

The Eridian rolled forwards to reach a little higher on Grace's torso, poking at his ribs. With each prod, the human jumped, trying desperately to grab Rocky's hands. This got a laugh out of the alien.

"How human so squishy, but have hard stuff in some places, question? Why not hard on the outside? Human body make no sense." Rocky teased as he poked, making frustrated laughter burst from his friend.

"I've told you about bones before!"

"Yes, but still make no sense." A third arm joined in, all three moving in rapid succession to make Grace collapse into hysterics. "Humans laugh funny."

What the human wanted to say was "Yeah? Well, yours is funnier!".

What actually came out was a garbled, alphabet soup of a sentence, not even registering with the translator. Rocky looked far too amused.

Suddenly, he stopped. Grace wiped tears from his eyes as he looked to his friend quizzically.

"T-that was mean." He said, residual laughter bubbling up.

"Rocky have idea." Rocky said, quickly moving off of his torso. Grace rolled over, planning to stand up, but he felt a weight roll over his lower legs.

Then, the weight started pulling at his shoes.

"Rocky! Rocky, don't you dare!" He turned as much as he could, putting on his angry-teacher voice. Rocky wiggled one shoe off, pushing it to the side.

"Rocky hasn't seen weird human feet. Want to see for science, statement." He pulled at the other shoe, the third arm pulling off the sock of the previous foot. Grace tried to kick out, but he wasn't able to do much more than bend his knees, making his upper body slide back towards Rocky.

"No you don't! You're just messing with me!" He tried to army-crawl away with his arms. They just slid against the floor uselessly.

"No~ sarcasm. Rocky is always genuine, sarcasm."

If he weren't already laughing in anticipation, he probably would have snorted.

"You suck!" Grace said, giving up and bracing himself. He tucked his arms under his chest, pressing his face into his hands.

"Grace suck more."

With that, stoney fingers swiped over his soles.

Grace cackled.

He writhed, struggling renewed as he clawed at the floor, pulling at his legs with all of his strength. Shrill screams laced the mirth, echoing off of the walls and through the ship. He curled in on himself, reaching back and swiping at the xenonite ball. He stretched out, reaching to grab something, anything, to pull himself out of Rocky's grip. The feeling sent electricity up his legs and straight to his spine, making him flop around like a fish.

"Grace is loud! So loud! Hurts Rocky ears!" Grace could make out over his hysteria. He shook his head, gasping as he tried to throw a retort back. He couldn't form the words.

Rocky was agonizingly thorough. He scratched at the soft inside of his sole, dragging the sharper edge of his fingers over the arches, scribbling lightly over the ball, then worming under and between his toes in a repetitive circular pattern. Every touch was exploratory, but precise as if he had some idea of what might work. He made sure no skin was left untouched, only slowing once Grace's laughter began to come in wheezes.

He didn't stop completely, switching to slow dragging up and down each foot. He listened intently as Grace damn near melted under the touch. Gasping breaths made way for breathy giggles, the human relaxing against the floor as his friend watched him, unaware of the attention.

To Rocky's sight, Grace looked more calm than he'd ever been.

Sure, his heart still beat rapidly, but his breathing was leisurely. It didn't carry the same stress it did before. His heartbeat sent soundwaves through his form, revealing unclenched shoulders, heavy limbs, and a dreamy grin. While Eridians didn't laugh the same way humans did, the effect was the same.

Rocky withdrew, backing off of his ankles and rolling to sit beside Grace's head. He watched as the laughter slowed, but the smile remained. The human looked up at him through tousled hair, not moving to stand.

"You're mean." He said, pointing at Rocky with a wavering hand. Rocky hummed.

"But, Grace is tired now, question? Can sleep?"

Grace thought for a moment, feeling the weight in his limbs and eyelids, how his breath was deep and slow. He felt how his mind was a little lighter, buzzing with happy chemicals.

Sighing, he nodded.

Rocky made a victorious sound, throwing his hands in the air.

"Grace go to bed now, get off floor." Rocky said, moving to get out of Grace's way. Grace didn't move, lying still. Rocky could hear his breathing deepen further, his eyes closing.

"No. Grace not sleep here, statement. Go to bed." He rolled closer, nudging the human on his shoulder. Rocky startled as Grace scooted towards him, wrapping around the ball and pressing his forehead into the xenonite mesh.

Rocky stared in confusion as Grace drifted off, spooning around the outside of the hamster ball. He couldn't imagine that was very comfortable for a being without carapace, but there he was. Pressed against the hard floor and the hard shell.

Oh well. At least he would sleep tonight.

Rocky settled in, lowering to lay in his ball next to Grace. He pressed a hand through the mesh to bury in the humans hair, trilling as he sighed in his sleep.

As he watched his friend sleep, feeling Grace deserved a reward after the torment, he began to sing softly.

The notes resonated through the xenonite like crystal bells, ringing in pure tones. It was an old melody from his younger years, something his parents used to sing while he was getting ready to sleep.

He had sung it to Adrian the night before he left, one last song to soothe her before saying goodbye.

He sang it to his crew the day they didn't wake up, a prayer that they knew someone still cared for them. An apology for failing them, it being the only comfort he thought he could give.

He sang it tonight as a promise. To himself, to his human companion, and to Earth and Erid.

Caine fiddled with his hands nervously as he paced back and forth across the stage. The soft tip-tap of his boots echoed gently into the quiet arena.

It was strange how naturally walking had come to him. He had relied on floatation for so long, he worried that standing on his own two feet would feel foreign and awkward. The truth was, it actually gave him a much more grounding soothing technique. He could focus his attention on the smooth, hard floor beneath his shoes rather than his roaring freight train of thought. It took selective attention for him to place one foot in front of the other in time to catch himself from falling forward; it was just another task, he enjoyed those. That attention to balance and coordination made a surprising difference in keeping his mind off of- well, anything that felt too overwhelming.

His friends had been helping him learn to verbalize his emotions and identify them with descriptors rather than putting them aside. It wasn't easy. In fact, Caine really tried not to complain too much, but it was incredibly frustrating to hold onto an unpleasant feeling for that long. It was so much easier when he locked away his troublesome thoughts into a little box and hid it away, metaphorically and literally. To admit to feeling sad or angry or hurt, in front of an audience no less, was unbelievably terrifying. But his friends were patient, and gave him space and time and lots of assurances. Zooble especially was sympathetic to his struggles. Apparently, they had gone through similar issues when talking about their own emotions. They had to learn through years of experience and figuring it out on their own to speak your mind in spite of the fear. Being vulnerable with others is hard, but taking the leap and trusting others will catch you yields its own rewards. Caine can attest to that.

Despite the progress he had been making in being honest with the others about how he felt, old habits die hard (that was a human phrase Kinger had taught him). The nervousness building up under his digital skin made it hard to stand still, and he found himself returning to his old self-soothing rituals, like playing with his hands or clenching his teeth, or even building new ones like pacing.

It was his idea to get into the habit of walking. The others insisted it wasn't necessary, but Caine disagreed. It didn't feel quite right anymore to be constantly looking down at them from above. If he was going to be given another chance, he needed to come to them on their level and live as they did. (The first few days of walking really put into perspective how he must have looked from down here on the floor. No wonder they felt intimidated by him all the time.) He still floated from time-to-time, if the distance was too great, but only at a short height.

Caine's head snapped up at the approaching clatter of steps.

He had told the others to meet him on the stage whenever they felt ready. There was something he wanted to offer them.

That prospect alone would have brought curious smiles to their faces, were it not for Caine's anxiety-ridden body language. While everyone had been coaching him on how to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, it was made pretty obvious anyway how he was feeling because of the animatedness of his expressions. They had no idea what Caine had in store for them.

Caine himself wasn't sure how this conversation was going to play out, but he hoped it would help further build a bridge between them.

Okay, no need to be nervous, he told himself. They've started to trust you again, and this will help with that even more.

One by one, the players ascended the steps and crossed the stage to where Caine stood, cautious but friendly smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Caine," Ragatha greeted. "You wanted to see us?"

"I did, yes." Caine straightened. He took a deep breath.

"I wanted to talk about my... outburst. Toying with you all in a fit of anger. I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I knew... I felt how afraid I made you. I can't undo the damage I did, the hurt I caused, but I've been thinking... the least I can do is give you a chance to return that pain."

The group stirred, glancing at each other in confusion.

Caine continued. "You all now have the power to conjure and bend reality into what you make of it. I think- I hope that it might be cathartic for you to... do unto me what I did unto you. I won't hold it against you. It's only fair."

He paused, eyes training on the floor nervously. "What do you think?"

What did they think? They hadn't expected good news when they came to the stage, but they weren't expecting... that. They could see the logic in the gesture, how one might think that a balancing out of the scales would help heal some of those wounds, but it didn't. They all knew it by looking at each other's faces. They were in agreement. More agony wouldn't rebuild that trust.

Zooble spoke up. "Caine, we appreciate what you're giving us, but we won't accept it."

"It was scary when you lashed out at us" Ragatha said.

"But you've done a lot to try and fix it" said Pomni.

"We want to be your friend," Gangle sniffled, "and we don't want to hurt you. It wouldn't feel right at all."

Kinger, adorned with his bucket-hat, which he had brought along in case this was a serious conversation he needed to be present for, spoke up as well. "No one else should get hurt. That's the power we want to have over this world."

Caine stuttered. "But- I did- I did terrible- egh- but it's not fair. Please, I- wouldn't it help at all? You have the opportunity to do anything- literally anything to me. I think you should use it. I want you to use it."

It was true. Caine still felt terrible about how he behaved. This seemed the most beneficial solution, and he really wanted them to have it.

Again, the gang looked at each other, sharing conversations with eye contact alone.

Ragatha smiled gently at her friends.

"Okay, Caine. We'll accept your offer."

Caine looked up hopefully.

The others' faces filled with shock.

"I don't think this is such a good-" Pomni started to object, but cut herself off as Ragatha looked to her and winked.

Pomni calmed herself.

Ragatha looked between them. "I think we all know of something to do to you that would help us all feel better. A torture that only the best" she emphasized, "of friends know."

Kinger watched Ragatha, searching for whatever hint she was trying to give. He found it. "I think I know too. Let's do it."

Pomni, Zooble, and Gangle blinked, clearly still lost. Until Kinger wiggled his fingers where they rested at his side.

Zooble's eyebrows shot up.

Gangle's eyes widened.

Pomni smirked.

Caine readied himself, standing tall with arms out wide, leaving himself completely open to their retribution. "I'm ready when you are" he said bravely.

Moving synchronously like they were one being, the group surrounded him.

Caine prepared himself for hits, punches, pulls, pushes, tears, and rips.

He did not prepare himself for the faint tickling sensation under his arm.

He choked on his own giggle, turning to where the touch had come from. But before he could say anything, another came from behind, this time at his side. He felt his innards tremble with a small laugh.

What were they doing? He didn't understand. Were they playing with him?

He stumbled backward, breaking the circle around him. "Wh-What are you doing? You're sup- you're supposed to hurt me! You're supposed to be angry! I was being serious, I really hurt you guys! I don't deserve to go on like it didn't..." His voice started to tremble, eyes growing wet.

Immediately it was clear to the others that now was not the time to keep going. They looked at each other worriedly at how quickly the tone had changed. This needed a different approach.

Kinger walked up to his creation. "Caine... no one is going to hurt you. Not now, not ever. We're not going to punish you for not understanding, so please don't punish yourself."

Caine felt someone take his hand.

"I forgive you" Pomni said. "I forgive you, okay? It's gonna take work, but we're gonna make this better. Together."

"We can't change what happened," Zooble added, "but we can try again. That's what you've been doing, right? Trying again, for us?"

Caine looked down in shame. "I..."

"Just be here..." Pomni blurted, eyes deepening imploringly, "... with us. Can we just do that, please? Just- be here."

Keep trying. Be here.

That, Caine could do. That he could do.

"Okay" he relented.

Zooble's voice caught Caine's attention. "Now about that revenge..."

Caine's pupils constricted. "But- you- I thought we-"

"Oh yeah, he could definitely use some payback right now" Ragatha agreed.

Caine's teeth turned up, like a smile only he could wear. "Come on guys, you don't have to do this." He pleaded, arms outstretched in front of him, with no real fear in his voice.

Pomni raised her hands and wiggled her fingers in front of her. "We're gonna make you so sorry you ever met us" she threatened dramatically.

Caine turned to make a break for it, but was caught by Zooble, who was standing ready and waiting right behind him. In their trap of a hold, their claw and hand started to pinch and squeeze his sides.

Laughter began to bubble up out of him, and it tickled him from the inside out.

The sound of it was downright shocking to the others. It was warm and bubbly, bright and melodic and real, as human as an AI could get. It was precious.

And now the game had really begun.

Gangle stepped forward and fluttered her ribbon-hands around his shoulders, where a neck would normally be. He shrugged his shoulders up as high as he could with a sweet squeal. Her ghostly whispers of touch sprouted goosebumps all down his back.

"Nohoho... nohoho tickling!" He giggled.

"This is what you get for being a pain in the ass, just laugh it up" Zooble said smugly.

"This wahahas supp-pposed to be pahainful!" He laughed. This was so ridiculous. What on earth was he doing here getting the wits tickled out of him by a bunch of humans? And why was this exactly what he needed?

Kinger chuckled fondly at the scene in front of him. How he wished they had reached this point sooner. So many years were wasted fearing him.

He wondered then how Caine being able to react to touch was even possible in the first place. He certainly hadn't programmed that in.

Oh well. It's not like it mattered to Caine at the moment, who was now snickering and shaking his head at the finger tickling under his chin.

"No?" Ragatha teased, cooing as though Caine were a labradoodle. "You don't want me to scratch right here? Is it too tickly for you? Can you not take it?"

This was so embarrassing, and yes he could absolutely take it! He wasn't some delicate little child!

Caine glared up at Ragatha. "Of course I can!"

"Great! I'll just keep going then!"

Aw nuts. Probably should have kept his mouth shut.

Ragatha laughed at the ringmaster's plight, watching him twist and titter himself silly. She then noticed that it was getting difficult for Zooble and Gangle to tickle him the more he balled up.

"Here, get his arms" she suggested. She loved the way Zooble's eyes narrowed with mischief just as Caine's widened with terror.

As Zooble struggled to wrestle Caine's wrists into their claw-hands, Ragatha reached out to grab one of Caine's kicking feet. The moment she got a good grip on his ankle, he let out what could only be described as a shrill, huffy, screech, as though he were startled mid-giggle. The last coherent thought he had was how odd he found it that just clutching his ankle tickled so much. She hadn't even touched the bottom of his boot (which he knew vaguely was a very very bad spot on most humans). Whatever struggling he had been doing before was now exponentially more frantic as his laughter skyrocketed. The powerful volume reminded them all of his usual robotic laugh, but that was where the similarities ended. It was high and breathy, a desperate, whining sound. It began to spasm with chaotic rhythm, like his digital diaphragm was shuddering. It consumed him. His chest expanded with air like a balloon. His belly ached. His head filled with cotton, taking up too much space for there to be any thoughts left in there. His arms had become floppy, giving Zooble the chance to grab them and hold them over his head, but he didn't care. He didn't even notice.

And he couldn't stop laughing. Not even if his life depended on it. And there was something else.

Something pervasive and spreading and dizzying.

Something warm and fuzzy and tickly all in its own way.

He gasped it in with every inhale he took and puffed it back out with every laugh expelled from him.

Relief.

Pure, unencumbered, relief.

They loved him. They must have. Why else would they be blessing him with such a moment? It lit up their torturous fingertips tickling up and down his body, and shined through their great big smiles, and twinkled in their eyes gazing down at him like someone who belonged.

They loved him, and they forgave him.

Had he earned that? He doubted he'd ever know for sure.

But they all seemed sure enough, and that was what made this all so nice.

If he hadn't been laughing, he'd have been crying tears of happiness. He was grateful, then, that they were tickling him, because the laughter was a much less mortifying reaction to have then the crying.

Through all of this, his friends were too busy grinning to let their jaws drop to the floor. He was laughing. Really laughing. They doubted he'd ever laughed this hard before. Maybe it was time they changed that.

They didn't want to suffocate the poor guy, though, so Ragatha released her grip on his ankle.

It was as if she did nothing at all. Caine was still laughing like a crazy person. Gangle and Zooble paused their tickling as well to give him some room to catch his breath.

A couple minutes later and he seemed to have steadied himself.

Pomni made a move to suggest they call it a day when Caine raised his head blearily.

"Are... are we done?" He panted, sounding more than a little disappointed. He wouldn't ask them to keep going if they didn't want to, but he found himself waiting with bated breath for a very specific answer.

Ragatha knew that look, and she knew Kinger did too from their time in the Losers Corner.

It seemed Pomni had picked up on it too, because before anyone could reply, she parked two fingers at the top of Caine's ribs. The delicate touch made him gasp involuntarily.

"Not quite" Pomni smiled with faux darkness. She carefully raked her fingertips down the length of his sides and then started over at the top again.

The feeling wasn't quite as intense as it had been before, to Caine's relief, but it still kept those shamefully high squeaks flying out of his mouth.

"So, Caine" Pomni started. "Which one of us in the Circus is your favorite, huh? It's gotta be me, right?"

Caine may have still been in a state of delirium, but he had enough good sense to know he should not answer that.

But Pomni hadn't stopped dancing her fingers over his sides, and the constancy of it kept him dancing around on the floor.

"Now hold on just a minute" Ragatha said indignantly, having caught on to Pomni's new little game of antagonizing Caine. "I think he likes me the best, isn't that right, Caine?" As she said this, her plush hands gently swatted Pomni's away, not to end the tickly madness, but to contribute her own methods, as she took a finger on each hand and sharply jabbed into the center of Caine's belly.

The laughter took on a more manic quality, as each merciless poke sent another ticklish shock to his body, startling yelps out of him.

"You're all wrong" Zooble cut in from above, still holding Caine's wrists in one claw. "Me and him are super close, I'm obviously the favorite."

Ragatha paused her poking to give Zooble the floor.

Caine readied himself for what was surely another new kind of ticklish torture, but after a few long moments, he felt nothing. He dared to look up at Zooble and felt his stomach drop.

The others were watching Zooble closely as well, with some eyebrows jumping up in surprise.

How could they not? Zooble had just changed the game.

With dawning horror, Caine watched as Zooble conjured from nothingness a long, white feather. It looked unimaginably soft; it even had tiny fibers along the bigger fibers.

Zooble took this beautiful feather, and proceeded to twirl it quick and graceful into the exposed center of Caine's armpit.

The reaction was instantaneous, and loud. Caine's laughter was nothing but short, shrieking cackles for a couple seconds, until it descended into robotic static. This was too much. He was having fun, but this was just too much. Even for what was supposed to be torturous justice.

"STAHAAP!" He shouted, almost involuntarily. He didn't really expect them to stop. What kind of punishment would this be if he wasn't made to suffer? He had done far worse to them; this is what he deserved.

The feather stopped immediately, mere moments after getting his plea out, and his hands were released. Caine took this reprieve gratefully, rubbing his underarms to override the lingering tickles.

Appreciative though he was, he was also very confused. What had they stopped for? He thought the point of this was for them to do this to him.

He looked around him to find everyone had backed up slightly, probably to give him air, watching him with worry painted all over their faces.

"You okay?" Pomni checked gently.

He was surprisingly fine actually. He wasn't even out of breath anymore. It had tickled really badly for a few moments, but it ended before it got really bad. But why? Why had they listened to him?

Zooble couldn't seem to look at him, eyes darting to various parts of the floor. "I knew I shouldn't have conjured the feather" they said guiltily. "I'm sorry Caine for pushing too hard."

Caine didn't like how sadness looked on Zooble and he wanted more than anything right now to ease their worries. "The feather was kind of nice actually, it was just that one spot- Wait hang on, I don't understand. Why'd you stop when I asked you to? I thought this was supposed to be torture." (Everyone but Caine was stunned a little at such a straightforward admission of enjoyment, even if they could already kind of tell).

Ragatha looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Not... actual torture. It's just for fun, and it's never fun if you're uncomfortable."

Zooble leaned forward to get Caine's attention. "Your body needs to be respected no matter what; the control is in your hands, always."

Kinger agreed. "And that goes for all of us. Even you."

He wasn't completely clueless and unaware, he understood bodily consent and how important it was. He just didn't think such protections applied to him as well. It made him feel... safe.

"Thank you" he said.

"Bare minimum" Zooble replied.

"So," Ragatha said. "That enough penance for you?"

Caine brought a finger to his teeth, thinking it over. He hadn't expected to suddenly feel shy of all things.

"I... wouldn't mind if- if you wanted to keep going. You know- if you wanted to, I wouldn't mind at all." He stammered.

Caine might as well have written "please keep tickling me" on his forehead. He had no semblance of a poker face whatsoever, which Pomni and the others found adorable.

Pomni, feeling evil, asked, "But do yooouuu want to?"

Slapping his hands over his eyes, Caine grumbled, "Ugghhh yes."

Kinger chuckled, endeared by this pure being who had only ever wanted to love and be loved. "Wonderful, because... we never actually figured out which of us is your favorite."

Ragatha knew firsthand that when Kinger's tickle monster persona came out, you were in for a good laugh. She snickered in anticipation to watch this go down.

Pomni pointed a finger at Caine. "And no armpits?"

He nodded. "No armpits."

"Got it."

Caine practically lit up with giddy joy and readied himself to be once again enveloped by his friends' affection.

Before the fun restarted, he thought to himself only one thing.

How glad he was to have come home.

---

I'm really confused.

The Hail Mary is not a big ship. It took me less than 20 minutes to explore every room after I first woke up - and that's with having forgotten to walk after not moving a muscle in over four years. Just 20 minutes.

I've been looking for Rocky for over two hours now.

"Rocky?" I call out into the dormitory that I've already checked three times.

I frown with my hands on my hips.

We both have our days when we really need our own space. For the most part, we'll usually respect it and leave the other be as well as we can, but in living quarters this small and with a roommate who can hear through walls, me-time is always more of a we-time. Surprisingly, it hasn't been too bad. We both know what the alternative is like, and I think that's given us enough perspective to not just be tolerant of each other's constant presence, but straight up clingy for it. Even this late in the game. So I'm beginning to feel small-to-medium amounts of disturbed. I might not be able to see through walls, but I've never had trouble finding him before-

"What the-!"

I snap my head around, eyes bouncing from spot to spot. I feel the hairs of my neck stand and the flesh of my arm pimple with goosebumps.

There's nothing there. Nobody there. No Rocky there. Rocky is the only person who could be on the ship. Heh.

"Okay, buddy. If you're trying to mess with me because of what I said, I'm sorry! It's not gonna work!" I call out, trying my best to keep my voice from betraying the unease I feel in my gut. I feel like I'm being watched.

Before his sudden disappearance, Rocky and I had a bit of a discussion over who, in our scenario, would be the horrific monster alien that poses an extinction threat to the other's species, and who would be the chum. We've tallied up the points so far and learned the terrifying histories of each other's evolution and special adaptations. It got more and more heated as we tied in counter with each other over and over. I'd win the balancing on one foot contest, he'd win the 'has five legs and has no need for stupid balance' contest. So on and so forth.

After a few hours of this, my blood was up. I (cockily) suggested performing a live demonstration of a perfect monster for him when we touch down on Erid. I may have said something about getting the entire Eridian race under my squishy and opposable thumb. Starting with Rocky's mother.

So now Rocky's missing. For the first hour, I worried I took it a step too far. Maybe your mom jokes are a line you just don't cross in Eridian culture, and I offended him so badly he took his new EVA suit out through the airlock because of how much space he needed from me. But now, I'm pretty sure he's messing with me. Because I've felt him watching me for a while. I just don't know where from.

It's really quiet on the ship. I've never known Rocky to be light-footed, and it's starting to get unbearable not being able to hear him. I'm about to ask Mary to start singing for me when-

All of the lights suddenly turn off, with Mary's voice piercing through the silent darkness. "Automatic lighting disabled."

Mm no. I hate this. "Uh, no no no. Lights back on, please?"

"Automatic lighting disabled. Manual override required." Her voice is so much louder in the dark.

"Manual-" I huff. "How am I supposed to manually override if I can't see anything?"

"The manual override is located in control-"

"Yes, Mary, I know." My voice wobbles in steadily growing terror. I slowly feel my way across the dormitory before I stop suddenly in the doorway - the long, black corridor in front of me.

Rocky is in the control room. That's how he did all this fudgery with the lights. My heart picks up speed, and my nerves assure me that something (Rocky! Rocky is the only other person on this ship!) will attack if I go up there. Gulp.

I back up a bit from the doorway, turning over my options in my head - which is working in significant overtime. I feel sweaty looking down the corridor, but I refuse to take my eyes off it.

Rocky is currently in the control room, but he switched the lights off like this on purpose. He knows how useless I am in the dark. And he can see through walls, so he knows exactly where I am right now and there would be no purpose in hiding. He's probably on his way to me right now, and I'm defenseless. Unless he's already at the end of the corridor just staring at me.

I squint down the corridor. Do I see his figure at the end of it? Well, whatever I'm seeing, it looks nothing like him. Too big, too wrong.

My thoughts are starting to drift into stupid territory and my mind is playing tricks on me. I try to shake it off, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants and taking deep breaths. I know he's trying to scare me, so it's stupid that it's actually working. Rocky is my best friend. He's not a monster. He'd never really hurt me-

I hear the rapid sound of footsteps charging towards me from the end of the corridor. I scream, scrambling backwards as fast as I can. It's not fast enough. A shrieking invisible thing tackles me and I brace for-

A pillow softens the blow to my head from the ground. Once all my scream putters out, I wheeze from where Rocky is squeezing me tightly.

"Wh-whhhyy.." I gasp pathetically.

"Grace get too cocky. Needed to teach a lesson," Rocky's cheery, friendly voice chirps. It does good for soothing the terror bells still ringing through my head and body. So does the squeezing. "You were sooo scared. Did not know heart can get that fast!" he sings in joy.

"Ugh, whatever! I wasn't that scared," I grunt, trying to wriggle my arms free from the death hug. I can't help the small smile that forms in my relief. "I was more afraid that you were actually mad at me."

He titters at me. "You're lying. You're scared even now. Your body-nerve-system still think I will eat you," he shimmies his carapace onto my stomach, and I grunt and tense at the nuzzling. "Maybe will. Show who is the better monster."

"Ew!" I start to laugh stupidly - the energy built up from all the terror needing to be released somehow. "No, please! At least kill me first. Or start your process over there. Away from me."

My body-nerve-system has taken over and is wiggling uncontrollably, trying to avoid his consistent nuzzling. "Pf- stop it!" I snort.

"Why, question? Thought Grace not scared." He wiggles more emphatically.

"Ah- I'm not!" My knees knock against Rocky's back as my body tries and fails to curl in, my stomach feeling more sensitive the more he moves. "I'm worried your biology is going to take over and unload on accident, thinking it's dinner time. Okay- Rhhoc- hehehe- quuuit it!" I whine, embarrassed about not being able to hold back my giggling. He's doing this on purpose.

He trills a noise of offense. "You are disgusting. That could never happen. Eridians too dignified. Ripping apart prey must always come first." He moves my arms away from my body just enough to tickle my sides and, despite expecting it, I explode.

"AGH- No! hAhahaha!!" I can never really talk when he does this. What I'm trying to say is, no! hey! get off! but unfortunately all I can manage to get out is convulsive giggling. My arms snap in over and over to protect my sides, but they're blocked by his rock hands. I only succeed in bruising myself a little.

"Don't laugh," he says while laughing himself. "encourages hungry-feeling!"

Ugh. I never win this challenge. I hold my breath, clench everything, and put every ounce of willpower I have to try and contain my giggles. Surprisingly - still squirming and with my eyes squeezed shut - I almost manage it! Until Rocky moves further up into my ribs. I whimper and fall back into hysterics.

I try to flop around to deter his hands (too many hands!!! too many hands!!) but my torso can't move at all under his FAT body. My legs are free to kick in and out as much as they want at least, but it doesn't do anything to stop him either. I can't stop it.

I continue to strain, but my head falls back in resignation as I laugh. I regret it immediately. The position turns a desperate intake of breath into the loudest snort ever. Rocky stops then, but I hardly feel relief from it - he only stopped because he's laughing at me so hard that now he can barely breathe.

"G-gett offff..." I gasp through giggles. His laughter is making him shake over my stomach again, and I'm so hypersensitive that I can't stand it. I squirm to no avail.

"♫♪what♫noise♪♫♪~~!!" He dissolves back into his amusement without finishing his sentence. I burst out into full belly laughter again despite the heat in my cheeks. His giggles are so contagious. And his vibrations are still tickling me down to the bones. I think I might die. Atleast I'm taking Rocky down with me.

Mercifully, Rocky climbs off me after a minute. His legs are weakening from laughter and he doesn't want to crush me for real. I curl up the second I'm able to in a way-too-late reaction to preserve my vital organs from tickle torture.

"I see now," he giggles. "Sensitivity is good defense. You become so funny, nothing can eat you. Predators too busy laughing."

"Please be quiet," I groan. I take a steadying breath. "Alright, I admit it. You're scarier out of the two of us. You ticked all the boxes that scare humans the most. Silence, darkness, surprise attacks. You'd definitely be able to take over humanity before I can take over Erid. Your mom would destroy me."

"No," he sighs through his vents, and I frown in confusion. Rocky's not one to reject a win. "Grace scary too. Stealth is part of Eridian nature. Know how to stay silent. Not detectable," he shudders. "You detect anyway. Almost catch me many times with crazy light detectors. Scary."

I smile incredulously. Fascinating! "So, all that just for us to tie again?"

"Grace winning for now, actually. We move ticklish from weakness to strength," I gape at him, but he cuts me off. "Serious about good defense. Funny, funny, funny."

"What- that's not- it's.." I stutter helplessly. "You're ticklish too! You know what, I'm hunting you next time."

"Grace not stealthy. Cannot ever surprise Rocky."

"Humans don't hunt our prey like that anyway. We just keep following them until they get too tired to keep running," I lean in as Rocky shies away. "We get them in their sleep, you know. When they're the most vulnerable. You might hear me coming, but you won't be able to stop me."

"♫♪!" he shakes his carapace like he's snapping himself out of it, then rushes me to start poking my sides and stomach.

"He-hey!!!" I giggle and push at him.

Next time I draw Rocky, I'll hopefully have come up with actual meaningful designs on his carapace instead of random swirls & patterns.