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But it only made it worse because Ryland didn't move. Not forward, like he had overheard your conversation with Rocky that night and decided despite all irrationality of the situation that drew your confession of adoration and affection for the scientist into the open, he should still pursue. But, there was nothing indicating that Ryland was moving backwards, either. 

Nothing about his demeanor shouted at you like the same fear encapsulated his senses and he was pulling away, silently forced to reckon with the idea that the feelings that were there, that had been there, were faked and forced upon you by mere proximity and your internal desire as Human’s for some sort of connection. You two were part of the same equation, that came out to the same answer, no matter how you spun it around and tried to make it different. Ryland… Still stood where he always did, still leaned in the same way when he was incredibly focused, eyebrows creasing together and his glasses minutely askew against his sharp features, he still talked to you with that endearing absent-minded ease that whirled your mind to think ‘Are we meant for more than this?’, even if he was halfway buried in a thought. He made you unravel, and you wanted to stop it. Not want. But needed to stop it. 

The difference was you. The different is that now you know what he does to you, the way your eyes stayed entwined in his for a second too long, the way that your heart wanted him to grab hold when you two solved something together, because where was the goodness in solving if you had no one to celebrate the outcome with? 

You knew… How your body responded to it before your brain could catch up. Your hands were kept busy so you didn't reach for Ryland’s things - thinking you had some claim over them as your own because there was something unspoken between you, and because he never said no in the first place. There was thought put into avoiding stares, because if you even spared him a glance, and if it lingered too long, it felt dangerous in a way that wasn’t there before. 

Thus, compensation was applied. 

Not hard, not noticable. The only thing that seemed to grapple the ship with existential crisis was… You stopped falling asleep near Ryland. Whatever sleep schedule that had been silently drawn into your lives, usually together, was torn at the seams. 

You staggered it, just enough that it looked unintentional. Rocky noticed this. Rocky observed this, and felt the shift had gone too far. He had been tracking a system that was beginning to behave unpredictably, and to his engineering manner, this was unacceptable especially when the variables applied were in charge of their own emotional output that caused it in the first place. He would never put it so crudely as to say (Last Name) get over yourself, make up with Grace before mission is compromised because of emotional incompetence.

No, no. Rocky was professional, and when he finally broke down to comment on it, the voice coming from the computer was rational, along with the thrumming from his carapace. It still held that same, neutral and analytical tone you’d gotten so used to. “Behavior alteration noted.” You don’t bother looking up from your work when he says it, pretending to be so enthralled in the numbers on the screen, a capture grab of Adrian’s atmospheric make-up. Your voice is steady, but it feels like you have the entirety of Rocky’s 168 kilogram body weight on your chest.

“Yeah… I’ve been uh… trying something new since we talked.” There is a pause in the air as Rocky moved a bit towards you, closer to the xenonite wall like that might urge you to just look at him. Then, comes the soft sequence of tones, almost contemplative followed by the emotionless tonal of the computer. “Outcome not improved.” You stare at the screen for longer than you need to, the numbers now burned into your retinas as you shut them slowly. Huffing softly, it comes out as a bitter sound to the ears and to Rocky and you realize then there’s no point in arguing. Rocky isn’t wrong. You just don’t have a better alternative, and the Eridian’s suggestion of basically ‘kiss and makeup’ was not what you… Wanted. That hurts to admit. 

Because there was such a pull to the allure of wanting it that it was drowning you. You wanted Ryland to let you have him. You wanted Ryland to let you in, in any way shape and form, whether that was intellectually or physically. It didn't matter!

The jarring sense of loneliness you felt deep in your core rocketed through you and made it all so illogical and all so painfully desirable. Your jaw clenched at that as you glanced over at Rocky, hoping the expression you were giving wasn’t misconstrued as aggression but… Then you relaxed a bit. He couldn’t read you the same way Ryland could. 

There was… no point. 

“I need to do this, Rock.” There is no argumentative point from him. Just… quiet as he clattered around and got back to work, letting you do the same but now your mind was lost in the heated moment of imaginary outcomes where Ryland had you pressed against him, hard, naked and bare. Exposed in ways that were so innately Human and so tied with the pleasure that it felt like your brain short-circuited.

Like Ryland would even want the same thing, deep down. Like, you would be his first choice. You were the choice of circumstance. You drew a deep, unsatisfactory breath in and let one last thought linger as you got back to work. Would things have been different if you were still on Earth?

Another 24 hours pass and slips into the grand scheme of nothingness upon a ship that was so far from home. You were in the middle of a tedious systems check. Tedious, but there was something comforting in how familiar and repetitive it was. 

It gave your hands something to do without your full attention and you were able to drift in and out of conscious thought. Kind of nice to not have to think about anything, like the Earth wasn’t dying, like Erid wasn’t going to suffer the same fate, just on a slower time-scale. All of the possible pain and suffering made yours feel so insignificant and you could just… Be for a few minutes.

You were nothing but a ball of gas and mass, just like the stars as you leaned against the pilot chair in the cockpit, eyes staring blankly at the screen in front of you as you began the check for the centrifuge. The calibration data popped up first, but that was torn into and almost immediately abandoned, along with your semblance of peace, when Ryland came into your peripheral.

You don’t even bother looking over. You know its him based on the rhythm of his Converse-clad feet against the metallic flooring, and you take note that he’s alone. No Rocky as a possible buffer. 

Great. There is a subtle shift in the air as the scientist stopped beside you, your eyes blinking a few times as his pheromonic scent took over and your senses went into a minor overdrive. He hadn’t been this close to you in days due to your rather successful attempts at keeping it that way. 

The man is not touching you, but… He’s close enough that you can feel his heady body weight, internally yelling at your instincts not to override the system you had so carefully laid out the last few days. Before you could even think to correct it, your shoulders tensed and gave away intention without a word.

There’s an attempt to relax, force yourself to really focus on the screen as it began its process like it was the most important thing in the room. Because, on a suicide mission, it should have been. “Hey,” Ryland said softly, crossing his arms over one of his amusingly punny science shirts. It felt like there was a wash of fire against your diaphragm at the word as if he had just recited the most complex Shakespearean sonnet of love to you. Get yourself together, geez. 

“Are you already on the calibrations for the centrifuge? I was hoping I’d catch you before---” “Yeah,” You replied to him, voice quiet and fast but there is still a minor shift in tone that captured Ryland’s attention. His brows furrowed but he let you continue, thinking maybe you were just… In one of those quieter moods. He found himself thinking that quite frequently, now that it was on his mind… 

“It’s running now, but I can stop it if you need---” Without permission, like what’s yours was also his, Ryland leaned over, one hand braced near your hip on the pilot chair as he pivoted his body even closer, other hand now moving through the data on screen, the heat radiating off of him driving your internal monologue up the wall. For a moment, as you looked at him, it felt… Like it used to.

The closeness of his form, the shared focus on the mission, the quiet rhythm of working side by side without filling the silence. You wondered, for a guilty and disgusting moment, if that’s how it would be like in any other aspects. That’s when it hits you harder than you expected, your body in response moving to him in some desperate way to get him to just touch you, even if accidentally. You don’t even realize how close you drifted to him until he speaks again. “Are you shifting the baseline?” “Yes.” That sounded almost pathetic. You took a deep breath in and watched the side-profile of the Molecular Biologist next to you. “Why?” There was nothing inherently wrong with the question, it’s actually normal and justified. Expect, your brain seems to lag, just to make the pause more pronounced. Ryland must have noticed, he glanced down at you and your breath gave it all away, hitching aggressively in your throat at the way he stared at you, his thick eyelashes captivating against the cerulean and golden sheen of his eyes which were bouncing off the colors of the illuminated buttons in the cockpit. “Uh… Uhm… I compensated the rate to equal that when Rocky has the Blip-A in the centrifuge so we don’t have to manually put it in every time. I was calibrating to put the data into place as a permanent stasis.” 

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper for him to delictably sink in for a moment, the sound of rationality coming from you more… Sensuous than Ryland intended to interpret it as. His pupils dilated just a bit as his attention was turned fully back to you, no longer leaning over you to access the console screen but he was still so close that you could imagine what his full body heat would feel like pressed against yours.

But you tried bargaining. His blue eyes shifting could simply be a play of the light. That’s all it was, your eyes afraid to meet him in the sea and wash off the console’s twinkling. Ryland hummed in his chest, a vibrating and deep sound that resonated right on that line of inappropriate to the loneliness that drove you to mere insanity, enough to think that he’d have even the smallest of interest in you if the circumstances were different. And with that, as you gawked at him, almost leering at the positioning he even had the audacity to put between the two of you, it was gone. “That makes sense. The rotational axis was off the last time Rocky docked with the Hail Mary. That’s why I was coming to check on it since I had some free time but you… Already have it… changing.” 

His words came out a bit slower as if he were mulling something over. There was hesitance written on Ryland’s sharp face, clear from the creasing of his forehead, muscular arms crossing over his broad chest as he leaned his hip onto the adjacent pilot chair. 

His glasses sparkled as he looked at the screen once again, flashing a bright white before dimming to a black to indicate the calibration was taking hold and it would be re-updated into the system upon reboot, hand coming up to stroke the stubble of his beard with elegantly long fingers that were the bane of your existence most days.

Then there was the secular sensation that was Ryland’s lips propping open to expose his straight white teeth to the air for just a moment before he pressed them together again. You looked at them slowly, wondering in a vain moment of guilt-free induction what they would feel like against your skin, smothering your senses and drawing immense curiosity to the laden insolation you both had to be experiencing on an instinctual level. 

Ryland was talking, his words forming around his hand before it dropped back to his side. You missed his fingers already and he’d never given any indication of wanting to let them sink against your soft skin and take in delectations that were sorefully missed in the deep space mission. “You’ve uh… Been changing a lot of things lately.” 

He hoped that it wouldn't come off as desperate or out-of-pocket. In fact, Ryland didn't even know why he said it. It was an internal observation, nothing to write home about and surely nothing to… mention out in the open, but from the movement you displayed upon hearing it, there was something more to it. It just fell from his mouth like a prayer waiting to be answered by you in some logical and rational way. You shuffled a bit, moving from foot to foot before getting your bearings enough to grasp the clipboard from the pilot seat where you had set it down earlier and pushed yourself to move, down the corridor, onto the next thing on the never ending list of things to keep track of on a ship that was never going home. “That’s… Kind of the job. Engineer, and all.” You muttered, trying to resist the urge to turn around and tell him to stop following you.

You stopped following him! Why… Was that such a hard thing to reciprocate? You swallowed hard and came to a slow stop at the console panel in the corridor that connected the cockpit with EVA room. It was a tight juncture, you could almost sense the hesitance from Ryland on even following you as he lingered more in the arch of the entryway. “That’s not what I meant, and now you’re running away from me because you don’t want to answer.” Of course that wasn’t what he meant. Ryland wasn’t an idiot. He was in-the-clouds sometimes, oblivious in ways that made navigating more complex emotions a breeze at times, but he was also a brilliant Molecular Biologist who studied patterns and discrepancies in those patterns and had a higher grip tolerance for the reasoning behind your changes than anyone else here.

He’d notice the change in your behavior before he noticed the change in your emotions, and something about that tugged at you the wrong way as your feet planted on the metal grating below with a small thud. You drifted your hands down, one grasping at the wrist of the one securing the clipboard and looked at Ryland. Expectantly, but there was always a bit more behind it that was so unspoken, you truly wondered if he’d be able to read it. “What do you mean, then?” Ryland stared at you, your back to the EVA hatch. You could see the jutting pull of his jawline tensing under the dimlights as he… Needed just a second to line it all up in his mind before committing to it. Before accusing. “You’ve just been… Different…” 

His voice was quiet as he leaned his shoulder against the arch between the corridor and EVA room. There was a drawn severance to his choice of words. They were careful to not be offensive and something made you want to hurl at the fact that you did this to whatever relationship was there before. Like there even was a relationship there before. “Different how? You’re talking to me like I'm one of your students, Dr. Grace.” 

That came out before you could stop yourself and you could see the physical recoil he gave as a small nod was sent your way. Slowly, his eyes drifted down to his feet. “I don’t know.” There’s a definitive edge of frustration in his nasally voice now, not directed at you so much for the backhanded insult, but at the lack of a clear answer… He had nothing but a gut feeling and a cup of coffee to keep himself steady in all of this. “You just… are.” You drew a deep breath in and felt no satisfaction from it as you turned towards the console screen, tapping with your fingers gently for just a fraction of a second. You hesitated, holding them above the buttons.

“Proababy just tired and you’re looking too much into it. Forced proximity can relegate problems that aren’t actually there, you know that.” Ryland did know that. He read the manual one of his first conscious days on board when he was trying to piece together the mission and its purpose.

In fact, it was even stated a few times that Armando and the ship system itself, affectionately dubbed ‘Mary’ by everyone on board, were programmed to subjugate the risks that would come from that previously mentioned forced proximity, mainly fights and arguments as those were most common events in small spaces.

They had a way of making the most rational person irrational. 

But this… You… Whatever this thing that was happening? Yeah, there was nothing written about this. Ryland was quite literally flying by the seat of his pants and hoped you understood where his concern was coming from. “Just tired?” He whispered, searching for your eyes but you refused and Ryland was delegated to stare at your side profile light up as you fiddled your fingers along the screen. “Yeah, tired. I’ve been busy trying to re-calibrate all the systems on board---” “Y’know Mary can do that herself, its in her programming---” “I need to do it.” 

Your voice was barely above a hush but there was a harshness in it that… Ryland found it uneasy. He felt a small shuffle in his stomach like the coffee he had earlier was turning sour. The silence that stretched isn’t empty. Ryland’s trying to reconcile what he’s noticed with what you’re telling him, and things… Don’t line up. And he doesn’t like that. “Are you… avoiding me for some reason?” It’s not accusatory in the slightest and you know, as your finger comes down on the ‘COMPLETE ASSESSMENT’ button, that Ryland put willpower out there for it to come across that way. This was an emotional certainty he came to a head with. And worst of all, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look over at him, hyper-aware that he had all of your attention. The way his feet pointed towards you, the way his eyes scanned your expression for even a sliver of something that could help, his entire body was angled towards you, like it was willing to test something out, and you couldn’t even spare him a glance. “I haven’t been avoid---” “Don’t lie to me. That makes it even worse.” His voice felt painful, his throat tightening a bit. “You’ve been avoiding me like some space plague.” Slowly, you let yourself exhale like the breath had been held for centuries. “I’ve been really busy working.” “We’ve both been working.” He countered, gesturing to the entirety of the ship. “Same with Rock. He’s up days at a time working. And yet he still finds time to talk to me.” “That’s different.”

“Different?” Ryland echoed, pulling into the heavy Teacher-eque ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ tone of voice that made you want to claw your ears out. “How is it different?” Finally, and much to his dismay upon seeing the wreck of your expression, you pivoted your feet to look at him. “Becuase it just is, Ryland.”

His heart sank at how you said his name. Not that he’d readily admit to imagining how it sounded from your lips when he was alone, those sweet blissful moments before bed but… The tenacity and hardness in your tone made him feel oddly mutilated. 

“That’s…” He drew a hard breath in, eyes falling shut for a moment as he tried to recollect himself, “That’s not an answer. You keep doing that!” Ryland lifted a hand and gestured at all of you. “Shutting me out and then acting like I’m supposed to just accept it!” Something in you snapped at that. The selfishness of the statement mixing with your own selfish intent to keep the mission on track. It was loud, it felt like your ribs were going to burst out and it was sharp enough for your voice to cut through the seething tension. 

 “Maybe you should just get over yourself for five minutes, Grace!” The words were a deadweight in the air as they hit Ryland’s eardrums heavy and intentionally cruel. His eyes widened behind the shine of his glasses, his foot taking a semi-step back as if he had physically been hit. 

“Excuse me?” Ryland blinked furiously, trying to put your statement together. Argument detected; Recommended--- “Not now, Mary!” You snapped bitterly at the auto-command from the system as the sound of your voices were carrying harder than they should have and dissapeared, vibrating into the metal walls around you. A moment passed, and she offered no more assistance. 

“And you." You pointed the clipboard at Ryland aggressively. Defensively. Out of care because you couldn’t let him ruin this, but something in you told you it was slowly disintegrating in a vat of acid. Now you did turn towards him, not fully to expose yourself emotionally, but enough that he could see your expression more crisply. 

“This isn’t about you! This can’t be about you.” The words felt disgusting falling from your tongue because you wanted nothing more than it to be all about Ryland Grace. To have the chance to at least explore the idea a little, but you were left with no other choice. 

His dark eyebrows furrowed together, Ryland raising his hand to scratch at his beard as he dragged his hand against the lower half of his face. “I never said it was---” “You didn't have to.”

Your chest hurt. It felt like you were about to crumble into a tiny million pieces and all it would take from Ryland would be to hit the EVAC button and you’d be drifting off into space as dust. “You’re standing here, talking about… being ignored like some kid. Like that’s the crisis we should be focusing on!” “And what? I’m just supposed to pretend that nothing’s wrong? Everything is hunky-dory?” 

Ryand shot back immediately, almost surprising himself with the succinct way the words formed when all he wanted to was grab your stupid head and bring you close to him. But, maybe that’s what you were talking about. There was no room for that here, there was no--- Ah Heck with it! 

“We are stuck on an interstellar ship together, maybe the last two humans in existence and you won’t even look at me! Yeah, I’m going to say something about it when you’d rather spend your time talking to Rocky about feelings.”

Your mouth flew open, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes. From anger or sadness, you weren’t sure at this point. Maybe it was a good mix of both. “What are you---” “You think I was really sleeping? Your voice carries on this ship. Always has.” He hated that he knew that. Hated himself even more for bringing it up in this way. It could have gone so much better… Things could have been different.

Something about the severity of Ryland’s words leaves you feeling worse for yourself than it does for him if he was so willing to slap you in the face with it. Your hand tightened around the clipboard, knuckles turning a shade of white from intense exertion on the exterior of your fingers. 

“Do not talk to me about my feelings, Ryland Grace!” You snapped hard, there was no turning back. The mini-step he had taken before turned into a full fledged movement and he was stepping back from you in the crass way his full name came from your lips.

Like it was… so offensive to say. He bit his tongue looking at you, your face contorted in such a dilemma and in every other circumstance, Ryland would have to beg and differ with himself that he even found it attractive, but now? He felt his entire heart shattering in real time and there was nothing more he could do for it than to dig a bigger hole. 

Like he had always done. It was easier that way than to face your own feelings. 

 “You don’t get to talk about me ignoring you because you got your feelings hurt, and you don’t get to talk to me like you know what mine are!” “That’s not how it works.” His voice strained and for a second, you thought the inertia of your gravity towards one another would buckle and he’d move closer to you like you wanted him to… Needed him too… “No.” You whispered harshly, “What doesn’t work is us acting like this! Acting like we have the luxury to---” You cut yourself off, dragging in air to your lungs as if you were suffocating. “Earth and Erid could die, Ryland! This isn’t the time to sit and get willy-nilly about feelings that wouldn’t exist if we weren’t forced to feel them!” That landed and hit him straight on the head. No explanation needed, no facts needed really. He knew exactly what you were referring to without a minor hesitation.

As if you could float around the idea of being together like that, as if you could pretend that there was no pre-meditated notion that hit his mind when you touched him, not just touched him, but let yourself feel him under your graze and accept that he might want the same thing. Such small things that built into this. 

Hey, let’s keep the Human Race alive on a suicide mission. Like that made sense.

Ryland clenched his hands into fists for a moment, contemplating the urge to hit the metal wall next to him but it subsided and his shoulders faltered just a bit. This wasn’t just about sex. You wouldn’t be yelling at each other if it was. This was more, and Ryland needed time to bargain with himself. Unfortunately, you were not going to give him the chance. “Do you understand that?” Your voice was asinine, the words coming out so fast that you felt you were going to choke on them. “Entire plants. Entire eco-systems, plants, animals, Humans and Eridians! Gone. All of them! And you’re standing here asking me why I haven’t been chatty lately!?” That was the moment the tears began falling. And whether you were aware of them or not, Ryland had no idea as you made no attempt to wipe them away and instead, they dripped off your chin in one fluid motion over your cheek, and then fell cold to the ground. Ryland swore he could smell the salt of them when he took a step closer, forcing himself to stop when he saw the glower you gave him. “That’s… that’s not…” There was no saving face from this. 

“We don’t get to be… Human about this!” You sobbed hard, the heat hitting your diaphragm like a ring of fire and within moments, you were turning away from him and shattered even further. “We don’t get to prioritize feelings… Or whatever this is. Not right now…” Silence slammed into the void between you like the EVA hatch had been opened and both your bodies were ejected violently into space. Ryland watched as you cleaned the tears from your face, slowly, using the sleeve of your yellow mission jumpsuit but you never turned to face him again. You put up the wall, and now he needed to tear it back down. Or at least… try. Ryland’s jaw set, almost painfully as he grinded his teeth. 

There was something colder to him now, and Ryland was considered to be well… A very warm and welcoming presence, considering his occupation. You needed to be that way in order to get young minds to approach you, whether they needed help with homework or if there were other issues in life outside of school. He prided himself on that, on being an even-headed man but something about this made that taut rubber band bust. “So, that’s it, then? We just… shut everything off? Pretend we’re machines because it makes the mission easier?”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing but a small strangled noise came out at first. Vulnerability hit you harder than you needed it to be as a new wave of hot tears fell from your eyes and got caught on your sleeve as you diligently mopped them away. “I’-It’s not about convenience, and you know it.” There was a shattering crack to your voice as you tried to get yourself back to some semblance of control. “This is about survival.”

“And what happens after?” He challenged immediately, suddenly aware that Rocky was most likely listening in. There was no direct mention of your ultimate fate, death, or even sending the beetles, but it didn't need to be said as you turned your head at the idea. You hesitated for just a second, your lips falling open and the scientist felt a perverted ideology come upon him that he… Thought you were pretty when you cried. He drew a shaky breath in, now on the verge of breaking down himself at the confession that danced between the two of you at the implications of his words. What happens after?

You’d be left alone in space after. Rocky would go home to Erid, hopefully with the news that their Petrova Line issue was no more, the beetles would go home with great news for Earth and… You and Ryland would stay. Maybe stave off a year or two if you rationed correctly and didn't let irrationality back in the door.

But, you’d both die. You were always destined for this, whether on a ship lightyears from Earth or on Earth itself. Statistically speaking, you two were probably in the better half of the population that would die in 20 years. Now it was just talking about prolonging the inevitable. Shutting your eyes softly, you shook your head. “I’m…” “Yeah.” Ryland muttered, a humorless laugh leaving him and it sounded so unfamiliar. “That’s what I thought.” “Stop!” You turned so quickly and almost found yourself stumbling as the clipboard in your hand came slamming to the ground. “Do not twist my words, Ryland!” “I’m not twisting! I’m trying to understand why you’re acting like caring about someone is a liability!”

Because I care about you too… Does that make me weak? He thought to himself and searched for your gaze but you couldn’t muster enough courage to look his way and focused on the console again. It was blurry from behind your wet eyes.

“Why… am I the liability here?” He dropped his head to look at his feet, coming to that bitter conclusion without much to go on. Ryland felt a small tear come from the corner of his eye and trickled to get caught on the nose piece of his glasses. There was no movement made to clean it and he just let it be. “You’re not…” Your voice was unsteady like your mission now was to convince him away from his own negative thoughts. “Could’ve fooled me, (Name).” You finally looked at him and were crushed to see that he… Wasn’t looking at you. Why would he? You were taking something amazingly precious in the depths of space, the idea that you weren’t alone in it all, humanity and crushing it into a fine powder. 

“That’s not what I meant…” Your dragged your hand against your face slowly to brush the new set of tears, painful almost from the coarse nature of the jumpsuit fabric kissing your skin. “I’m s-saying we can’t afford distractions.” “Right…” He huffed gently, “And… I’m a distraction.” “Ryland, I didn't s---” “Why wouldn’t I be?” He whispered to you, “You know I…” He sniffled softly, your heart turning uncomfortably and you resisted your desire to embrace the broken man. “I was too distracted in my last relationship too, maybe that’s… Just my thing. My human thing and we can’t afford to act very… Human.” 

The way that he looked at you broke something in you. Something quietly lingering at the surface and the way he said his words, fragile and low, something was breaking in him too. Anger seeped to the surface again in the middle of anguish. “Why do you have to make it about yourself?” You whispered to him. “Why… Can’t you see what I’m doing?” “Maybe you need to get over yourself for a second and act more human. See what you’re doing.” That hit the air, unyielding in the way it was construed as an insult. You flinched at it and took a step back, almost colliding your back with the EVA suits behind you. He caught your eyes after a fight to find them for the entirety of the conversation. And something about them… You swallowed hard, the lump refusing to leave. He was telling the truth and it was killing him to do it. “I’m doing what I’m doing to make sure this mission succeeds.” Your words were hollow, “If acting human kills the Earth and Erid, then yeah,” You were no less firm, “Maybe we should just forgo that experience all together.” Whatever hope that Ryland had been holding onto to get this resolved slipped through his fingers. He let out a breath, hard and sharp as he shook his head. The lights from the EVA room illuminated it to be more golden than dirty blonde, and even now, you found yourself yearning to tuck your fingers into it and just forget this entire conversation took place. Just… Let your human instincts take over. “I know you don’t believe that…”

Let him have you and maybe he’d want to have you in return. That… was such an easy way out, your fingers playing along the sleeves of your jumpsuit as you shook your head silently. There was no answer you could give him without it crumbling down because it was a lie Ryland would see through. So, you froze in place and felt a shuttering cry leave your lips as a response. “You’re scare---” You didn't even let him finish. “I’m being realistic.”

“No, you’re running.” Ryland said, not unkindly so but it still felt like a blow. And maybe that was the intention. If you recalled correctly, Ryland was the… master at running away from things when they got to be too much. At least, that’s what your brain told you as you sifted through hundreds of hours worth of mindless conversation with him. Or at least… What you thought was mindless. “From what?” You whispered sharply, like challenging him was the way to go. 

“From anything that makes this more than just a mission.” Ryland immediately realized he should not have said that with the infliction he used, your eyes hard against his even after being so soft and vulnerable only moments ago.

“Good. Maybe that’s exactly what I should be doing.”

He took this lapse to… Study you. You were drawn in tight on yourself, your shoulders were incredibly tense, such a far cry from how smooth they would be to touch, or at least, that’s how his mind played it out, your face was flushed from wiping away tears, nothing more, nothing suggestive… Your lips parted and were quivering uncontrollably. 

Anger, sadness, bitterness… All cumulative and all palpable in the air. He really didn't know why he pushed you, but he couldn’t stop and his mouth was running before his mind could have a say. “And if that costs us something?” He was gentle with you. The mention of there even being an ‘us’ sent you into a small spiral like there had been some unspoken rule. That you were his, possessively, and he was yours, possessively. 

“It already has, Ryland.”

The apartment hummed with the low buzz of the city outside,

Four months. That's how long you and Ryland Grace had shared this cramped space—him, the brilliant astrophysicist with his tousled hair and those soft exhausted eyes that seemed to see right through you, and you, his roommate who couldn't stop imagining what his hands would feel like on your skin.

Stolen glances over breakfast, his knee brushing yours during late-night study sessions, the way he'd watch you a beat too long when you bent over to grab something from the fridge. It was torture, sweet and agonizing, until tonight.

You'd cracked open a bottle of cheap red wine after a long day, collapsing onto the worn couch in the living room. The TV flickered with some mindless sci-fi rerun, but neither of you paid it much attention.

Ryland sat close—too close—his thigh pressing against yours, the heat of him seeping through your jeans. He poured you another glass, his fingers lingering on yours as he handed it over. "You've been avoiding me" he said softly, his voice carrying that familiar lilt, part teasing, part serious. His eyes locked onto yours, unblinking. "Or am I wrong?"

Your heart hammered. "No" you whispered, cheeks flushing. "I've just... been waiting."

A slow smile curved his lips, but there was a determination in his gaze, a quiet knowledge that made your stomach twist in the best way. "Waiting for what?" He set his glass down, turning fully toward you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb traced your lower lip, gentle but insistent. "Tell me. I want to hear it."

You swallowed, the words tumbling out. "For you. For this."

Ryland's breath staggers, and then he was moving, pulling you onto his lap with a deliberate tug. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to hold you steady. "Thank god.." he exhales with relief, his voice low and wanting. "Show me how much you've wanted this."

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a rush of heat. His mouth was firm, almost demanding, your tongue slipping past his teeth in an attempt to claim his with pent up impatience.

He broke the kiss just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours. "Easy" he said, his tone softly stern, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. "We're not rushing. I've waited months; you can wait a little longer." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and he felt it, striking confidence into him—he dives in and guides you like in his wet dreams of you.

"Undress for me. Slowly. Let me see what I've been dreaming about."

Your fingers trembled as you gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Ryland's eyes dilate, raking over your bare skin, your bra the only barrier left on top. He reached behind you, unhooking it with practiced ease—surprising, given his nerdy demeanor—and slid the straps down your shoulders.

Your breasts spilled free, nipples hardening in the cool air. "Beautiful" he breathed, but there was no room for hesitation in his voice. "Touch them. Pinch your nipples for me. Show me how sensitive you are."

Blushing furiously, you follow his instructions, your thumbs rolling over the peaks, a gasp escaping as pleasure shot straight to your core. Ryland watched intently, his cock twitching beneath you. "Keep going.." he instructed, his hand guiding yours briefly before letting go. "Wanna see how pretty you look following directions"

You complied, twisting until they stung, your pussy clenching with need. He nodded approvingly, then leaned in, capturing one nipple between his lips. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the edge, while his hand kneaded the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The dual assault had you arching into him, grinding down on his bulge shamelessly.

"That's it" he praised against your skin, switching sides, his tongue laving over the wet peak before gently pulling off. "Let's get these pants off for me...yeah?" His voice held that guiding edge, firm enough to make you move without question. You slid off his lap, shimmying out of your jeans and panties in one go, kicking them aside.

Standing there naked before him, vulnerable and exposed, you felt his gaze like a physical touch, tracing the curve of your hips, the trim of your pubic hair, your moles and marks, his eyes noticing things many others don't get a chance to see.

Ryland stood, towering over you slightly, and unbuttoned his shirt with unhurried precision, revealing the lean muscles of his chest—toned from whatever workouts he squeezed into his schedule. He kicked off his shoes, then hooked his thumbs in his belt, eyes never leaving yours.

"On the couch," he directed softly, the undertone brooked no argument. "Kneel on it, facing me. Spread your legs."

You did, knees sinking into the cushions, thighs parting to give him a full view. He stepped closer, shedding his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free—thick and veined, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum. It bobbed as he approached, you stare at it like you've imagined it a million times and it turned out better than that.

"Not yet" he said, reading your want. One hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking lazily while the other reached between your legs. His fingers parted your folds, middle finger circling your clit before dipping lower. "Jesus, sweetheart—haven't even done much.." he groaned, sliding two fingers inside your pussy without warning. They curled immediately, pressing against your inner walls, finding that spongy spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You cried out, hips bucking. "Ryland—"

"Shh" he soothed, his thumb now rubbing your clit in firm, steady circles. He pumped his fingers deeper, adding a third, stretching you with a burn that bordered on exquisite pain. The wet sounds of him fucking you with his hand filled the room, obscene and intoxicating. His once occupied hand came to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a gentle reminder of his control.

"Look at me," he commanded softly. "Watch how I make you cum, honey."

Your eyes met his, hazy with lust, as he increased the pace, his fingers thrusting in and out, knuckles brushing your clit on every stroke. The pressure built fast, coiling tight in your belly. "Please" you whimpered.

"Cum for me" he ordered, voice stern but laced with affection. "Know you can do it baby.."

The praised command sending a sockwave—snapping that inner tension. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, orgasm ripping through you in hot waves. You gushed over his hand, thighs trembling as you rode it out, his name a sobbed gasping chant on your lips.

He withdrew slowly, bringing his slick fingers to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. You sucked eagerly, the tangy flavor of your arousal mixing with his skin. Satisfied, he pulled them free and guided you down onto your back, the couch creaking under your weight.

Ryland knelt between your legs, cock in hand, rubbing the head along your slit. "Tell me you want this.." he murmured, teasing your entrance.

"I want this—" you gasped. "Please, Ryland, fuck me."

His eyes softened for a moment with an admiring gentle grin, then his eyes narrow with slight with resolve. He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, your pussy stretching around him like it was made for this. He was big, filling you completely, the veins dragging against your walls. Halfway in, he paused, letting you adjust.

"Breathe" he instructed gently, one hand stroking your thigh. "Take all of me. You're doing so well."

You nodded, inhaling deeply, and he sank the rest of the way, bottoming out with a shared groan. He stayed still, buried deep, his hands roaming your body—pinching your nipples, tracing your curves—as if memorizing every inch. "Wrap your legs around me" he said, voice softly stern. "Pull me closer."

You hooked your ankles behind his back, drawing him in until his pelvis ground against your clit. He started moving then, shallow thrusts at first, building a rhythm. Each slide in and out was deliberate, his cock hitting deep, the head nudging your cervix on every plunge.

"Harder?" he asked, but it was rhetorical; he already knew. His hips snapped forward, fucking you with more force, the couch shifting beneath you. Skin slapped against skin, your wetness easing the way, making every thrust slick and loud.

"Yes—fuck, yes!" you moaned, nails raking down his back.

He captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue mirroring the thrust of his cock. "Go ahead t-touch yourself for..for me.." he directed between kisses. "Rub it while I fuck you. Make yourself cum on me" his tone growing softer and needier.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding where he wanted you. You circled it frantically, the added friction pushing you toward the edge again. Ryland's pace quickened, whimpers and gasps escaping him as he pounded into you.

"S-shit you feel better than i e-ever thought'you would—oh fuck-"!

The orgasm hit like a freight train—your walls fluttering and squeezing him in rhythmic pulses. You screamed his name, body arching off the couch. Ryland didn't stop, fucking you through it, his own release building.

"Where?" he asked, voice strained and gasping, thrusts erratic. "I-inside! Please please fuck, Ry-"

With a guttural moan, he buried himself deep, cock pulsing as he came, pathetic moans and whines slipping from his mouth as his face burries into your throat.

He collapsed onto you, both panting, his weight a comforting press. After a moment, he lifted his head, kissing you softly. "Four months was way too long" he whispered, that guiding sternness giving way to tenderness. "But we're just getting started, roomie."

You groan at the term used and smack his arm as you both fall into a giggle fit.

notes:

“Yup, yup.” He was quick to say and scooted forward in the seat, almost to the point where he was clinging on by just two inches and supporting more of his body on his legs. His quads were going to thank him tomorrow in the form of intensely sore movements.

“Different things. Very different. Yeah, I can uh… Suggest some books for you to read about the differences,” He pushed his glasses up, your eyes catching the shine of the golden frames as you gazed down at him. “Uh… Very… Thrilling content.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned back and stared at him, mild perplexity written on your expression. You wanted to ask something, but before you were able, the familiar voice cut in from the laptop on the counter next to you. 

“Grace heart rate erratic. Grace okay, question?”

Ryland… Froze. And not in the typical ‘oh, hahaha funny you noticed that’ sort of way. More in the ‘I’m caught in a line-up, but I’m totally innocent’ sort of way, his eyes widening at the words as they processed in his brain. The blonde let out a short and awkward laugh, a somewhat strangled sound in his throat that didn't quite land the way he wanted to, his grip tightening almost noticeably on the edge of the table. “It’s… Not. Totally normal. It’s a totally normal heartbeat happening right now.”

You tilted your head slightly and studied him like he was one of the microbes on the slide. He couldn’t even bring himself to move out of fear that one of you - let’s be real here - Rocky would notice and say something. “Are you… sure?” “Grace incorrect.”

Ryland squeezed his blue eyes shut for half a second before they flew open and he was gazing… Glaring at the Eridian on the other side of the xenonite wall. “Please stop talking.” Rocky tilted his carapace slightly. It was clear he understood the words, not the implication of emotion that Ryland was using though which you thought was quite amusing considering a lot of Rocky’s language was up to listening interpretation. You bit your bottom lip, leaning back against the metal wall of the ship and glanced between the two of them. 

“Grace heart rate faster than (Last Name).” Rocky was adamant to say. 

You looked at Ryland again, curiosity seeping into your pores as you added gently, “Mine feels pretty normal so I guess Rocky is using it as the baseline in this observation.” “(Last Name) correct.” Ryland could quite literally feel the heat climbing steadily up his neck, spreading across his skin in a blotchy mess that felt impossible to hide. He refused to look at you, focusing instead on a completely unimportant section of the screen like it was anchoring him back to the Tau Ceti system. “I mean…” 

He puffed his cheeks, bringing one of his hands down to rub against the outside of his clothed thigh, maybe in some subconscious way to get his palms to stop feeling so clammy as the other hand gestured vaguely upwards towards the display. You watched in baited amusement, his motion incredibly choppy and almost… Inhuman. “Science is… Uh stressful… Lots of pressure. Very high-stakes. Heartbeats… Happen.”

“Uh-huh.” You hummed, crossing your chest and telling him in body motion alone that you were not convinced. Beside you in his crushing atmosphere, Rocky made a thoughtful sound, like the engineer he was, working out a problem. He tilted ever so slightly, angling himself as if refining measurements guided by vibrations and subtle rhythm of sound. 

“Grace exhibit strange behavior when close to (Last Name).” Ryland choked on the air, hands falling onto the lab table with a ‘thwump’ and in one remarkably quick motion, he was trailing towards the Eridian, his long legs moving without a real plan as he ended up with his face precariously close to the xenonite, almost to the point where he had it pressed, you could vaguely see his breath condensating against it as he pleaded to the five-legged alien. 

“Woahhhh-okay, that’s enough data collection for today buddy, let’s give it a rest.” “Did Rocky just suggest I make you nervous?” You bit your lip, a smile threatening to come to the surface. 

Ryland sputtered, pressing his forehead against the cooling xenonite and closed his eyes, “He… Suggested something to that degree, yes. Bu-But his basis is---” “New observation.” He physically tensed, his shoulderblades feeling rigid like they were going to snap. “No, no follow ups. We are done with the observations.”

“Grace temperature increase.” Rocky announced anyway, his computerized voice mixing with the thrumming notes from his carapace. Calm and precise in a way that just… Made everything worse. Ryland felt his stomach drop without a beat, feeling your eyes on his body. He felt prickly around the edges, like you could see the moving aura and he became hyper-aware of his body and how he must have looked to you. He felt sticky warm, he could still feel you close by. God, it must be obvious if Rocky was able to sense it. Uncertainly, he shifted on the balls of his feet so he could spot a glance at you, hoping to the universe that whatever heat was on his face was not that perceptible to the visual spectrum.

Aaaannnndddd, you were looking at him. Of course you were. He couldn’t be lucky enough that your attention was on something else. But, instead of pulling away as his blue gaze met yours, you leaned in, almost imperceptively, but just enough to catch Ryland off guard as he leaned back in response. He opened his mouth to say something, probably something stupid and along the lines of ‘Stop looking at me!’ like one his students in the middle of a fight with their best friend who well… Wouldn’t stop staring at them like they were some foreign object. 

But, unfortunately, Ryland’s lottery did not end there. 

“Grace temperature increase significant. Approximately 1% of baseline human temperature.”

“That’s pretty significant.” 

Came your voice. It sounded normal, but something under the tone shifted to… Playfulness that Ryland was unsure of. Were you… making fun of him? Great. Just another shot to his ego. Whatever ego he had left, that is. Rocky had a weird way of absolutely demolishing it at times like this with incredible blunt precision. Like, instead of being beaten down with a physical blunt object, you were being beaten down with blunt words. 

Ryland leaned his upper half against the xenonite wall, bending his elbows so he could push his glasses upwards into his hair, getting lost somewhere in the golden thickness as he dragged his hand down his face, slow and painful. He pressed his fingers to his eyelids and pinched until he saw stars, “Ohhhh my god.”

It was your turn again to glance at Rocky, oblivious and clearly satisfied with himself to Ryland who looked like he wanted to slam his head against the xenonite and end it all. Amusement rose in your chest alongside the dawning realization of what Rocky had been observing in today’s mishaps. “I mean, you are kinda hot, Dr. Grace.” Rocky shifted, his body scraping lightly against the surface below as he repositioned, closer to you this time. “(Last Name) cause Grace reaction intentionally, question?” Ryland snapped his head up so face, he nearly knocked over from exerted force. His balance was caught at the last second as he spat, “Do not answer that!”

You paused, mouth open at his reaction and for a second… You considered answering the curious Eridian. But, maybe some things just needed to stay between you and the scientist. You glanced down at Rocky, “I don’t think I’m really doing anything.” 

That was innocently put. Ryland glanced at you, his eyes narrow. There was… A tiny slight tilt in your voice that gave it away. You were enjoying this. 

There was a hard silence.

“Should I be doing something…?”

Ryland’s hard gaze shifted into one of… Confusion. What… Did you just say? The two of you just… Stared at one another, unaware for the few seconds that spared to hear Rocky’s low humming, thoughtful like he was processing fresh data points and slotting them into place, very neatly, very calmly and very deductively. 

“(Last Name) proximity equal increase Grace heart rate, increase temperature, decrease speech efficiency.” “Got it,” You were replying to Rocky, nodding as if taking notes again. “So if I just…” You shifted closer to Ryland, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing it tentatively. That action caught him off guard, his eyes watching before they met your gaze once again. 

He straightened up slightly, both from your motion and the absurdity of Rocky’s statement. He needed to cling to the one part of this he thought he could argue, grasping like it was a lifeline. “My speech--- My speech is fine!” Well, that was a great time to stutter like an imbecile. 

“Counterpoint.” Rocky said immediately. “Grace words earlier. ‘Very high-stakes. Heartbeats. Happen.’ Not logical statement.” You giggled, unable to stop it this time as you brought a hand to cover your mouth, “That… That was pretty bad, Dr. Grace.”

“That was…” He groaned, “Those were completely normal, Human words!” 

His voice cracked right at the end, completely undermining the statement. His ears felt like they were on fire, Ryland tugging his larger body away from the xenonite and trailing across the small lab area, hands on his hips. You were watching him, it was painfully obvious to the tiny hairs on his body that seemed to react to even the minute attention you so blessed him with. 

There was a pause in the air. Just long enough to be clearly intentional, like everyone was in agreement of the bombshell that was about to fall on you all.

Then…

“Is human courtship attempt, question?” Heat swelled against your cheeks at that revelation as you trailed your eyes from the computer where Rocky’s voice just made the announcement of the century at Tau Ceti, to Ryland across the room who was… Well, it was hard to tell what he was thinking as he had his arms gestured out, almost frozen in place and his mouth propped open. Shocked, clearly. 

“Oh…” Your voice peeped. The chaos erupted. Ryland shot across the room, nearly tumbling over the stray lab chair he had been sitting in at the start of all of this, mumbled a few very clean and very teacher-esque profanities under his breath in the process before coming up on Rocky, crouching down and grabbing the xenonite wall like it was the only thing stopping him from strangling the poor Eridian. 

“Absolutely not!!” Ryland sounded strangled, this sitting somewhere between a protest and a total system failure from the brain. “I am not… Oh my g--- That is not… Rocky!”

“Rocky can help, question?” 

He tilted towards you again, oblivious to Ryland’s desperate pleading stance. Or not oblivious. Rocky was right, he was confident in that and just getting adamant denial from Ryland was going to prolong the Erdian’s desire for knowledge and experimentation based on his conclusion.  A.K.A, don’t waste my time, Human. 

“Rocky good at problem-solve.”

“No!” Ryland said immediately, panic threading through the sharp word as he crawled backwards on his hands and knees to look at Rocky, almost bumping into you in the process. He became hyper-aware of the distance between the two of you again. Great. “No assisting. There will be zero assisting because nothing is happening!”

You tilted your head and crouched down to Ryland’s level. For all things that are holy--- His blue eyes met yours again, this time more frantically. You could see his tense breathing, the push and pull of his chest. “I’d… like to hear Rocky’s ideas.” Ryland fell back. Hard. Straight onto his butt with a loud groan like you had just betrayed him on a fundamental level, his legs spreading out, eyes wide and breath trying to catch up for a split second before he forced himself into recovery mode. 

“No,” His voice dropped in urgency, “We are not crowdsourcing my… My… This….” He gestured between the two of you, “Whatever this is!” “What is this?” 

You countered, and that seemed to stop all motion from the scientist in front of you. Slowly, Ryland dropped his large hands into his lap because he… didn't have an answer to that without admitting to Rocky’s conclusion. Not that it was correct. Ryland was pretty sure he’d know if he had a crush on you. He let his head fall back slightly, raising one of his hands and grasping his glasses in the process. Maybe the ceiling would offer an escape route. “Grace reaction not expected.”

“You could say that again, Rock.” 

You muttered under your breath as Ryland tried so desperately to collect himself and his thoughts. His chest was rising and falling just a little too fast, he knew you were still staring at him and now he was… Flushed from embarrassment and had nowhere to run, which to him, was very often a default setting. 

It got quiet again, which you and Ryland had learned, was never a good sign. “Have more observations.” Ryland groaned.

You perked up. “Grace heart rate increase.” Rocky said, “Twelve percent over baseline.” “Wait, what was it before?” Your curiosity got the best of you much to Ryland’s well… again, embarrassment. 

“Correction, now fifteen percent.”

Ryland squeezed his eyes shut, “Please stop measuring me.” You let out a soft whistle under your breath along with a quiet spoken ‘wow’ like you were impressed. 

Ryland’s brain did a little jump with serotonin at that thought. Ah, so you thought something of his was impressive! This was good, this was very good! No it is not, Ryland! This is the worst thing to be impressed by! He had better things for you to be impressed by!

“That’s pft…” He puffed his cheeks out, “That’s okay, I’m just stressed.” He muttered quickly, “This is a stressful situation!”

You leaned towards him. “Still curious what this situation is.”

Ryland leaned back, mouth open at your shift in proximity. 

“Define ‘situation’.” Ryland opened his mouth to say something - probably snarky, but nothing but air came out.

He closed it.

Then opened it again.

His brain… Had completely short-circuited.

“Grace explain.” 

“...Science…” 

Ryland explained weakly, his shoulders raising as if it were a question and not an answer as he once again fixated on some part of the ceiling that was not your face. Ryland hated that he could sense you moving next to him in your crouched position, searching for his stare no doubt to make this even worse for him. But, if he weren’t tugged into his own self-absorption, he’d linger enough to realize that there was a pretty cute blush against your face as well. You snorted quietly, looking at Rocky and just knowing that the flustered blonde sitting in front of you was thinking the same thing you were. Bossy.

“Data comparison.”

Rocky continued. Ryland felt his chest heave.

“Grace heart rate earlier during observation analysis, baseline. Grace heart rate with (Last Name) close proximity, elevated.” Your mouth popped open as you watched Ryland tug his hand against the back of his neck. “That’s uhm… pretty specific.” “You’re cherry-picking data!” Ryland pointed at the clueless Eridian who didn't shift at all at the sharp gesture. It lacked any and all conviction thus making it very… Unconvincing. “Selecting relevant data.” “Stop selecting it like you’re on some game show.” “No understand.” Ryland threw his arms into the air dramatically before they came down and rested on the back of his head like he was stretching. It was hard not to watch; even harder to not admire as you sat back on your heels next to him with a small smile playing on your lips. “Grace temperature increase by 1.4 standard degree.” You leaned in, holding out your hand like Ryland was a campfire, “Can confirm findings. He feels hot.” Ryland made a strangled noise when he looked at your hand, only inches away from touching his bicep. “This cannot be accurately scientific---” “Now 1.6 degrees.” “Rocky!” Ryland sounded like he was on the verge of tears but that wasn’t the case for you as you felt a small laugh bubble to the surface. You threw your head back and let it out, hard and captivating in the air for the poor scientist who was left metaphorically reeling in space without a tether. He watched you shamelessly. The way your neck exposed itself, the way your laugh sounded, and how happy and joyful you looked.

For a moment, Ryland just stared. Completely, utterly doomed.

The molecular biologist was still flushed from the face down, probably all the way down to where the sun didn't shine, his shoulders were taut and tense like he had yet to decide if it was worth it to flee or argue further. All that he could hear now was how your laugh lingered, full chested until it softened around the edges and he felt something in him snap. A small, reluctant huff slipped past his pink lips. It barely classified as a chuckle. More like… The subtle idea of one. Ryland found himself shaking his head at your reaction, letting his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose at the motion, eyes dropping to your smile as if it were somehow going to spare him. “This is… highly unscientific.” His voice had lost all bite.

You nodded in agreement, wiping a little tear away from the corner of your eye as small giggles were still escaping from your lungs. It was hard to breathe, Ryland finding it for you and huffing out another breath that tangled into a quiet giggle of his own. It was low and uneven, like he wasn’t used to letting moments like this happen. Heck… When was the last time he… really laughed…?

You leaned against him suddenly, still giggling, trying to catch your breath. His warmth pressed against your side, grounding you, and the close contact seemed to crack his composure further.

Ryland exhaled whatever air was left in his lungs, letting a louder chuckle leave him, shoulders loosening as it finally all came out. A soft chuckle bled hard into an obnoxious laugh. It was threaded so carefully with traces of embarrassment but it was almost unmistakably genuine, coming straight from his chest. “This is---” Ryland giggled, the sound hitting your ears blissfully as you had moved to rest your forehead against his shouldercap, still trying to compose yourself in the fit of laughter. “This is not---” “Scientific.” You mimicked his voice and the whole thing started over again.

Ryland this time throwing back his head with a small, “I do not sound like that!”

To which you adamantly nodded your head, squeezing his arm as you almost threw yourself back in intense howl. “You totally do!” Ryland opened his mouth to further the argument, but nothing came out except another helpless burst of laughter. It knocked whatever protest he had left away from the conversation, his head tipping back as he gave in completely this time, no restraint, no worry that he was being too much or too absurd. All that mattered was this moment with you. “You are---” Ryland wheezed, his breath hitching a bit as he dragged his hand across his mouth and beard, smiling against his palm, unable to stop the chuckling. “You are a terrible lab partner.” You gave him a cheeky grin, another huff of laughter against his shoulder, “And yet you’re having the time of your life.” “That is grossly inaccurate data representation.” He gestured vaguely at the ship as if to say ‘look where we are and re-think your statement!’

“Grace statement false.”

The two of you paused for a moment, sharing a glance like you had an inside joke before immediately dissolving into chaos again. 

Ryland groaned through his laughter, his cheeks now pink from over-exertion. His head fell forward, almost bumping straight into yours.

“You’re enabling him!” He accused, letting his forehead almost sink straight into yours as you lifted your head to look him straight in the face. Ryland looked cute. More than cute, you tilted your head as your giggles began dying down, lifting your hand to wipe at the literal tears that had formed around the creases of your eyes. He was… charming… Almost irresistible as your eyes spotted a glance at his mouth.

Annnnd that did not go unnoticed because it was returned right away, Ryland’s glasses shining with the slight movement of his head to get a better glance at what he was staring at. You could see his breathing shift. It wasn’t a dramatic or loud movement, but enough that you felt it where your foreheads kissed. The laughter that once consumed you turned down to almost impenetrable silence. Neither of you were willing to pull away, your hand still lingering on his upper arm. Not to keep yourself steady anymore, but to… Hold because you wanted to. Ryland could feel the tickle of your finger tips against his heated skin and goosebumps rose there as a result as your motion turned from one of grasping to one of complete complacency and trust. His eyes flickered up and down. From your lips, to your eyes back to your lips again. There was still something warm floating between the two of you but in the blink of an eye, it got heavier than the ship itself. “I uhm…” The scientist started again, voice an octave lower and caressing your ears, along with the breath from his mouth against your face. His hand was hovering awkwardly between you, stuck between running away and grabbing you full force. “Uh… still…” “Unscientific?” You offered with an amusement grin, the smile around your eyes making Ryland want to melt straight into the metal floor. 

“Deeply compromised methodology.” He stared at your mouth. 

You stared at his right back, no reserve. “Then… We should probably… stop…” Except neither of you moved. There was no will power to lean back, you didn't think to give him the space that your words implied. “Probably…” Ryland echoed. He swallowed and you could see the bob of his Adam's apple, all too enticing as you pushed yourself to close what little gap there was. 

“Grace (Last Name) close proximity. (Last Name) heart rate now elevated.”

If a pen dropped, it would probably cause the greatest earthquake. In space. Ryland sighed, dropping his head as you shifted back onto your heels, red in the face. There was just enough space between the two of you to miss the closeness, Ryland throwing his hand up to physically block Rocky’s attempt at observation. “Rocky! You cannot just announce that!” “More information.” Rocky was succinct. 

“Don’t you dar---” “(Last Name) showing high probability of reciprocal---” “Rocky.” Silence.

The hum of the ship.

Both of you looked back at the Eridian.

“Intent for human courtship.”

He doesn't do it maliciously, quite the opposite. He does it because he knows he's the only one who can help you reach your potential.

The first time he notices you, it's because you're inching through an alley at 3am. You're diligently checking for anyone following, darting out from cover just to hide a moment later. You easily miss the Devil lurking on the rooftops. He hones in on your strange behavior, and rustling comes from your hiding spot a few stories below.

You're... eating something you found in a bag of trash. Matt's brows furrow, unbelieving at how you didn't hesitate to devour whatever you found. He hoped it was food.

Why are you doing this? Was this your best option? Is no one taking care of you?

He quietly drops down to street level a fair distance away. Taking careful but audible steps, he starts coming closer.

"Hello?" He barely got the word out when you froze. Matt didn't hear chewing anymore, or even breathing, but now listened to your racing heart.

He only got one step closer before you darted up and ran back from where you came, leaving a scent trail of adrenaline and cortisol in your wake.

Something about the way you kept checking for him following you, even as he was far out of your sight, made him decide not to follow.

It took two weeks to sense you again, a block away on a rooftop this time. Matt took a step towards you and heard you take a step back. He realized you had spotted him long before, and wondered if you had been lurking on the outskirts of his senses since your first meeting. He hadn't ever smelled the traces of you up here before your meeting, and he let a small smile grow on his face, because that meant you were up here for him, to get on his level.

He waited, still and neutral. You took a long look, and left a moment later.

This continued for the next three weeks. Every evening at the end of his patrol, he felt your presence, watching.

Always coming back to me. Good.

It was then that Matt decided to start properly conditioning you to him. You needed someone to look out for you. Who knows where you even slept? If he could win your trust, and maybe step into his apartment, he could keep you with him and take care of you. He knew you needed the help, even if you were afraid, even if you hated him for it at first.

Matt felt like you both spoke the same language. No words were needed, if you even could speak, because the two of you had body language. You responded to his every movement in a way he hadn't felt before, like you were more similar to him and his senses.

The fact that you're curious sealed the deal. He knew that you weren't completely feral. With some hard work and patience, he could show you that people and the indoors weren't all that bad-- or at least that him and his apartment weren't.

The next night, he took two steps closer and you didn't run. Your flight distance was decreasing. He clenched his fists to stop himself from pushing too quickly. One wrong step, and he'd ruin your progress.

After weeks of taking a few small steps closer, you were just one rooftop over now. He could smell from there, the dehydration and low blood sugar. It's a tough world out there. You needed him.

He needed you too. These few minutes with you at the end of his patrol helped him calm down. If all the people he hurt at night didn't really do any good... he knew that taking care of you was right. You were something just as wild as Hell's Kitchen, but that he could have control over. Not because you were stupid, or clueless, but because he felt connected, that he was the only one who could help you. You never even seemed to care that his face was kept masked, or that he often arrived stained with blood.

Enough progress had been made that Matt could start incorporating food into your training. He's been desensitizing you for weeks, but adding food, trying graded counterconditioning? He had a gut feeling that this would make you really warm up, not just tolerate him.

It was a lesson in patience for Matt that he savored because of the reward of every new step he could take with you.

Matt put a box of takeout and a cup of water on the next rooftop over. He went back to wait again.

There you are, slinking along in the shadows, staying along the imaginary bubble you've drawn around him that just keeps getting smaller. It isn't a conscious change from you, it's your brain learning that he isn't a threat with every piece of trust gained.

The moment of truth came when you spotted his offering. Confusingly, there was no immediate reaction. No movement to eat. You did come closer to look at the meal, and Matt heard you sniff the food. Salivating, your stomach growled, but you still backed away.

His head tilted in confusion. You were hungry, the food smelled good, you weren't any closer to him than before. What was stopping you? You backed away again, and the wind carried the scent of your anxiety over to him, somewhat stronger than before.

His heart ached as he realized what he had done. He got a full plate of fresh, delicious food for someone used to half-rotted scraps. It's not that you didn't want the food, it's that it was too good to not be a trick.

Matt brought a new plan the next night. He dumped the oldest leftovers in his fridge into a plastic bag, and even put in a few crumpled up pieces of paper for good measure. He threw it over to the next rooftop, not mixing his scent so badly with it this time.

You came crawling out of the shadows again, and considered his new attempt. Frustratingly slow, like at any moment he'd come over and kick you for it, you pulled the bag back a few feet and took a bite. Your head kept popping up to check he wasn't moving closer. He wouldn't dare. Suddenly, you were devouring the food as quickly as you could.

Matt tried not to cringe when you chewed on the bag too.

He couldn't have been happier with your progress. At least he could keep feeding you, even if he never got you close enough to touch, or get you inside.

It became his nightly ritual to find something you'd actually eat, but he slowly increased the quality, still presenting it to you as trash. Now you would eat a still-stacked sandwich out of a crumpled paper bag.

How could it have gotten this bad? What was life like for you before him?

More progress came when you no longer startled at the sound of his voice. The first time he let out a little hum, he swears you came six inches off the ground. Now, he spoke to you every time. He'd tell you what he brought, or about his day. You listened, seeming to understand in your own way.

You operated off actions, not words. His reassurances that he didn't want to hurt you seemed to have no effect.

Though the fact that you weren't frozen in fear anymore, and felt comfortable ignoring him sometimes, made him confident to come closer again. Opposite corners of the same roof, then gradually sitting just a few feet away.

His hands trembled with effort to not reach out and touch you. Would you want to smell his hand first? Should he let you come to him? He doubted that would ever happen. You weren't choosing to be close to him, he was bribing you with food and water, but your brain felt safer and safer. He didn't have any real plans on what he'd do if he got you inside. He thinks you'd probably destroy his kitchen or try to eat his couch. He'd be content if you just slept inside where it's warm.

The threat of winter just two months away made him push the boundary once again. While you were busy eating a particular favorite food, Matt softly brushed one knuckle over your shoulder. It was only his quick reflexes that saved his hand from your teeth coming to bite him away. You stared at him, like he should've known not to try. Not with anger or betrayal, but stress and frustration.

"Don't make you bite, huh? Okay, okay." He left you alone for the rest of the meal, but didn't move away.

You gave him the same look the next night, when instead of a bag on the ground, he was holding a piece of chicken. He had tried to bring you nutritious things, he wasn't sure if this was the only meal you were getting, and he knew you liked this. If he wasn't so intent on staying neutral, he would've laughed at the internal war he saw through your movements. You wanted it? You'd have to eat from his hand now, directly interact.

Arm stretched out towards you, holding only the edge of the food to save his fingers in case you took it too quickly, Matt felt that your whole body was stiff and on guard, but you bit off a piece. He fed you three pieces like this, with the last one held out in his palm. Your nose barely brushed his hand as you took it, and Matt shivered.

He wished you'd just crawl into his lap one day, finally understanding his good intentions. But knowing that you wouldn't choose anyone else, that he earned your trust without words, that's what made him value the relationship. He couldn't persuade or reason, and you didn't require constant reassurance that he didn't have time to give. Ten minutes, some food, and soon enough he hoped that his touch could be a reward too, though he'd have to teach you to like it first.

Three nights of eating from his hand, and then when he was pulling his hand back to get more, you reached up to still his hand and licked the remnants greedily. Matt felt his cock twitch in his pants.

He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't considered socializing you to sex. It would have to come so much later. He could have sex with most anyone he wanted, but sex with you would be so different. Teaching you what it's like to feel pleasure for the first time, that he provides it, he thought that once you understood that he didn't do it for himself, but for you, that it would quickly become another reinforcer.

He knew you were independent, surviving for God knows how long out here by yourself, but he wanted you to have the choice to come to him and know that you'd be fed, fucked, and protected.

His fingers involuntarily flexed up at the sensation of your tongue on his palm and they lightly brushed your cheek. You didn't seem to notice.

Oh, good girl.

That's what got him the most, that you weren't trying to be good for him. You were, in fact, objectively not well-behaved. He controlled your reactions, and you didn't even realize how much progress you had made. You hadn't planned to work with him, but he hoped that after your fear mostly subsided, once you let your guard down a little, he could keep raising the bar and get you inside.

A warm place to sleep, food and water always ready was what he wanted to provide. Anything that also served him-- touching, sex-- was secondary. Ultimately, he didn't want to keep you inside constantly. You deserve fresh air and what you've always known, but for at least a little while, he thinks he'd have to keep you locked inside so you'd see it as a good place you could come back to at will.

Those few weeks of keeping you inside and seeing the fear come back would break his heart. He hoped to leave the door open at first and let you explore, smell everything and see he lived alone, before he shut you in with him. But he'd have to get you to follow him first.

Your usual rooftop was five buildings away from his, so the next night, he waited one closer. You only looked confused for a moment before finding your way over. You expected him to be there like you expected the sun to rise.

So cute.

This time he also tried not getting the food out right away. He sat on the ground with his hand outstretched. You crawled over and looked at his hand, shifting your head when you didn't find food in it. The tip of your nose touched his fingertips as you tried to find it. With none in sight, you looked up to stare at him. He was almost shocked you didn't become frustrated, but waited as patiently as you could. When you brushed your mouth against his fingers, prompting him to reveal your reward, he smiled so wide his face ached.

He decided he'd keep building up your tolerance with this method of letting you come to him instead of encroaching on your personal space.

Over the following days, he was incredibly proud of the strides you made. Some things came easier than others, and now that you had a mutual understanding that you'd have to make more contact to get your meal, you were willing to keep expanding your boundaries.

He sat propped up against the side of the building with his legs stretched out. You tried to come around from his side to touch his hand, but he moved it away until you hovered over his legs, then ever so carefully sat on his knees before you got fed.

Some may call what he was doing coercion, but if you truly hit a wall of what you were willing to do, he'd keep feeding you. It's that you seemed almost eager to find out what he wanted you to do each time.

Contrafreeloading. When an animal is given the choice of food or food that they have to work for, they'll choose the food that requires work.

He held out one hand with his palm up. After nudging it with your nose a few times, you slowly lowered your chin into the gap between his thumb and fingers. His other hand reached to get your reward.

"Doing so good, thank you. Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered.

You seemed to perk up at his voice more often, listening more attentively, words becoming more salient. You relaxed a bit, putting more weight onto his hand.

The power trip this gave him was like no other. Holding you, your eyes darting around to see if you were doing what he wanted. He thought that it wasn't just about food for you anymore.

He had learned that some dog trainers could reinforce their learners with just a smile. The bond was so strong that making trainers happy was the reward for the learners.

"I have so much in store for you. Keep being good for me, okay?" Matt rubbed his thumb along your jaw gently.

He would continue with your training protocol, getting you nearer to his apartment as it gets closer to the first snow. He's addicted to you, invested in you. He is your path to salvation.