🌊 𝙗𝙚𝙚 🌊

“Hey! Can you help me? I um…locked myself out of my apartment again on accident.” Your neighbor, Ryland, had locked himself outside of his apartment for the past five nights in a row. And frankly, it was getting a little frustrating.

You open your apartment door and see Ryland standing there in nothing but plaid pajama pants, and mismatched socks, and no shirt to be seen. And it was driving you crazy to see him that way. You’ve had a crush on your neighbor for months now and this wasn’t helping you one bit.

“Again?” You can see his shoulders slump in defeat. “Again. Sorry, y/n.” You don’t even ask questions anymore, you just hold the door open for him as he makes his way inside. “You owe me pizza for this.” You said with a wink, as you glance at Ryland over your shoulder. “I owe you like six pizzas at this point, y/n.” “Correct.” You said with a smirk as you made your way over to your sofa.

An hour later Ryland was still perched on your couch, waiting for maintenance to be finished with fixing his door. You were curled up on your armchair with a book in hand, listening to him explain why he had gotten locked out. “So…I was taking the trash out.” “Mhm.” You said quietly in response. “And I thought, ‘Ryland, you don’t need your keys. You’ll be right back.’ And look what happened.” He shook his head vigorously in shame.

You covered your face in embarrassment for him. “No. Seriously?” “See that’s what I thought immediately after it happened.” “How are you alive?” Ryland immediately points at you. “You keep rescuing me. It’s all you, y/n.” Your stomach fluttered with butterflies at that. But you ignored it.

The thing was, Ryland kept showing up. Not always because he’d locked himself out. Sometimes he’d knock on your door because he’d made too much pasta. Or because he wanted a second opinion on a science joke. Or because he’d found a documentary he thought you’d like.

At some point, you stopped noticing who started it. You’d come home from work and find a sticky note on your door.

Movie night?

Or:

Made cookies. They’re slightly burned but still edible.

Or:

Question. Could a raccoon theoretically pilot a vehicle?

The answer was almost always yes. Not about the raccoon. About hanging out.

One rainy Saturday evening, you found yourself sitting on the floor of Ryland’s apartment helping him assemble a bookshelf. A task that should have taken forty-five minutes. It had been two hours. “You put the shelf on backwards.” Ryland looked offended. “The shelf is judgmental.” “The shelf is upside down.”

“Oh.” You laughed. He laughed too. For a moment neither of you looked away.The apartment suddenly felt quieter. Then the shelf collapsed and you both jumped. And that moment vanished. “Okay,” Ryland said. “The shelf has declared war.”

A week later, there was another knock at your door. You opened it automatically. “Keys?” Ryland blinked. “No.” “Phone?” “Yes.” “Wallet?” “Yes.” You narrowed your eyes. “What happened?” For some reason he looked nervous.

Actually nervous. Which was unusual. Ryland was the kind of person who would explain astrophysics to strangers without blinking. Now he couldn’t seem to look directly at you. “I wasn’t locked out.” “Oh.” There was a pause and then another. You crossed your arms. “Ryland.”

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I was actually wondering if maybe you’d want to get dinner.” You stared at him. He continued talking immediately.

“Not because I got locked out.”“Good to know.” “Or because I needed help.” “Excellent.” “Or because I forgot how to function as an adult.” “Debatable.”“Fair.” You smiled despite yourself. His ears turned a bright pink.

“I just…” He laughed softly. “I realized I spend most of my free time with you anyway.” Your chest tightened. “Yeah.” “And somewhere along the way…” He glanced down at his socks. “I think hanging out stopped being an accident.” The smile that spread across your face felt impossible to stop. “About time you figured that out, Grace.” His head snapped up.

“Wait.” “Wait what?” “That’s not a rejection.” “No, Ryland.” His entire face lit up. The kind of smile that made your heart stumble. “Okay, wow.” “You really are a genius.” “I know.” “Except when it comes to doors.” “That’s a completely unrelated skill set.”

You laughed and then he laughed. And before either of you could overthink it, you reached over and slipped your hand into his. Ryland looked down at your joined hands like he’d just discovered a new branch of science. A very exciting branch of science. “So,” you said, squeezing his fingers, “dinner?” “Dinner sounds great.” Then he glanced toward his apartment. The door slowly swung shut behind him.

That’s what led you to tonight, sitting with Ryland in the comfort of your apartment. It’s a Friday, which means he doesn't have work tomorrow, and luckily you're off. You guys have chatted, the lights are low, you're wearing a very nice matching set underneath this. All the conditions are perfect.

You’ve lost your mind.

Have you mentioned you need to get laid?

Because you do. Really badly. Preferably by your really sexy boyfriend.

Not even in a horny way anymore, to be blunt. At this point it’s become a matter of pride, scientific curiosity you might say. Human beings are apparently out here having sex every day without incident and you, a fully functioning adult with multiple degrees and a stable income, haven't got the first clue about it.

And there’s Ryland, currently sitting cross-legged on your couch. He’s explaining, with immense detail, why the movie you just watched was “so scientifically inaccurate”.

“And another thing for that matter,” he says, gesturing with a chip, “there is no sound in space. None. Explosions should be silent. Completely silent. Sure it doesn't make good movies, but, come on!”

You just stare at him. Damn it, he’s cute.

His hair is sticking up from where he kept dragging his hands through it during the movie. He’s wearing that faded Stanford shirt that’s soft from over-washing nowadays. His glasses have slipped down his nose.

You are so in love with him.

And maybe… maybe… tonight can be the night.

You scoot a little closer.

Ryland immediately pauses mid-rant.

“…Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

His eyes flick down to your mouth.

Sweet, that's a good sign if you've ever seen one.

You lean in, kissing him gently. Ryland melts into it almost instantly, one hand finding your waist like muscle memory by now. Kissing Ryland is embarrassingly addictive; he always kisses you like he’s just happy to be invited. It’s so sweet you don't think you could've helped but get obsessed with him.

You shift closer until your knees bump together on the couch.

The kiss deepens a little, then a tad more. Ryland makes this tiny noise into your mouth, pleased, and your stomach flips so hard you nearly lose your nerve immediately. This is, normally, where it'd end.

But not tonight.

No. No, you are an adult. And adults do this all the time.

Your hand slides up into his hair.

His hand tightens carefully at your waist.

And then, because apparently your brain was assembled by raccoons, you blurt against his mouth:

“I’ve never had sex before.”

Why the hell would you say that?

He pulls back, eyes wide with shock and lord knows you’ve ruined everything. You should've kept quiet, broken up with him, died a virgin, anything would be better than him looking at you like you're some kicked puppy. Oh God, he's gonna break up with you- he's gonna think you're a freak for never having sex and kick you out and then-

“Hey- no, no, no.” Ryland interrupts you, worry overtaking the surprise on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You blink dumbfounded and still slightly panicked. Marginally panicked. Very panicked.

“I… I just told you I’m a virgin?”

“Okay?” he says carefully, like he’s not understanding the problem. “That’s not… bad?”

“You’re saying that because you’re nice.”

“I am nice,” he agrees, then squints. “But I’m also confused.”

Your stomach twists miserably. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

Ryland stares at you for a long second.

Then he says, very sincerely, “Honey, I spent six years in graduate school eating peanut butter out of measuring cups because I didn’t own plates. I think my weird isn't the same as the average person's.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, you really do love him. His expression softens immediately like he’s relieved to hear it.

“You thought I’d care about that?”

“A little,” you admit quietly. “Okay, a lot.”

Ryland looks genuinely stricken.

“Wait, is that why you keep getting nervous every time we make out for more than ten minutes?”

“…Maybe.”

“And why you looked like you were preparing for a hostage negotiation when I touched your thigh last week?”

You groan and cover your face. “Please stop remembering things.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters, horrified on your behalf. “You thought I was judging you?”

“Well, you’re very…” You gesture vaguely at him. “Experienced-looking.”

“Experienced-looking?” he repeats.

“Y’know.”

“I don't know. What does that even mean?”

“You know! You’re charming and confident and- and you kiss like you know what you’re doing. Everyone probably wants to have sex with you.”

Ryland suddenly goes very quiet.

His ears start turning pink.

“…Oh,” he says.

You slowly lower your hands from your face. “Huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes now. “Uh. I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach drops. “You have a girlfriend.”

“What? Other than you? No!”

“You’re secretly married.”

“No!”

“You’re an alien.”

“Somehow more likely than the first two, but still no.”

“Ryland.”

He takes a breath.

Then, with the expression of a man preparing to confess he's from another planet, he blurts, “I’m a virgin too.”

…

…

“What?”

You must've not heard him right. Ryland Grace… a virgin? No way. Not a single shot. He’s… he's genuinely the most attractive guy you've ever met in your life, and you're not just saying that because you're dating him. You can't imagine a single coffee shop he can walk into without getting someone's number. Not to mention how sweet and caring he is. Your boyfriend is a hook, line, and sinker.

You didn't hear him right.

“You're a liar," you spit out all too quickly.

Ryland lets out an offended little squawk. “I am not!”

“There’s literally no way. Not even a little bit of a way.”

"There is definitely a way."

"Oh my God,” you mutter, staring at him.

He looks deeply embarrassed now, face flushed pink as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

“I just thought you knew or... assumed.”

"How would I assume that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up. “You’re smart! You infer things!”

"You flirt like a man with experience.”

“I flirt like a guy who memorized too many romantic comedies!”

You stare at each other for one long second before a laugh bursts out of you unexpectedly. Ryland immediately joins in, both of you dissolving into slightly hysterical laughter against the couch cushions.

The tension snaps like a rubber band.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze. “We’re both idiots.”

“The dumbest people alive,” Ryland agrees warmly.

“You really never…?”

He shakes his head. “Came close a couple times in college, but I was too anxious. Then grad school happened, and apparently science became my entire personality.” He pauses. “Plus, I always kinda wanted it to matter.”

Your chest squeezes painfully hard at that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Turns out I’m secretly very lame and sentimental.”

“That’s not lame.”

“No?”

“No.” You tuck your legs underneath yourself, looking at him carefully. “I think it’s nice.”

His expression softens so much it nearly kills you on impact.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because I really, really like you.”

The words settle over you warm as sunlight.

“You thought I didn’t want you?” he asks softly after a moment.

You groan immediately. “Don’t.”

“You did.” He looks devastated now. “Honey.”

“I know it’s irrational.”

For all the spiraling you’d done, all the panic and humiliation and catastrophic assumptions, the reality is just… Ryland. Sweet, nervous, earnest Ryland, sitting across from you like confessing this is somehow riskier than astrophysics.

You scoot closer again until your thigh presses against his.

“So,” you say carefully.

“So,” he echoes.

“We have no clue what we’re doing.”

“None whatsoever.”

You nod once. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, suddenly smiling. “That actually makes me feel a lot better.”

Ryland visibly relaxes.

“Me too,” he admits. “Honestly, I was kind of terrified you’d eventually realize I had no idea how to be sexy.”

You snort. “Ryland, you once pushed your glasses up with while explaining your day to

me and I had to excuse myself to calm down.”

His jaw drops.

“That did it for you?”

“You have no idea.”

He looks unbearably delighted by this information.

“Wow,” he says faintly. “Okay, that’s... wow. That’s a huge confidence boost for me, actually.”

“Anytime.”

He grins at you, all soft and crooked and real.

Then, more cautiously, he asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

The fact that he asks makes your heart ache.

“Please.”

He leans in slowly this time, giving you every chance to pull away, and you meet him halfway. The kiss starts sweet again, warm and familiar, but now there’s something new underneath it. There's less trying to guess what the other person wants, more sure of yourselves.

Ryland’s hand settles at your waist carefully, thumb brushing against your side through your shirt.

You melt immediately.

He makes that tiny pleased sound again when you kiss him deeper, and you swear your brain briefly shuts off.

“Still with me?” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Mhm.”

Ryland pulls back slightly, studying you with such open affection it makes your stomach flip.

“We can go as slow as you want,” he says quietly. “Seriously. Tonight, another night, halfway tonight and then panic and watch a documentary instead. I’m good with whatever.”

“You’d really be okay if I panicked and made us watch a documentary?”

“Honey, I’d make popcorn.”

You laugh again, helpless. Then you cup his face gently and kiss him once more, softer this time.

“I don’t think I’m panicking anymore."

And Ryland exhales, slow and steady like it was something he was holding this entire time. Maybe longer. His lips find yours again, with slightly more heat now. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he responds instinctively, as though he’s cataloging every reaction you have (“Okay, she liked that…”). You fall deeper for him with how deliberate everything feels, how his fingers touch come to caress your jawline with a familiar care.

His mouth parts just slightly against yours in a question, not forcing, asking if you want it. Something thrills within you at how sweet passion is with him. He smiles into the kiss when you part your mouth as well. You didn’t even know that was possible, maybe just a cheezy thing they say in romance books, but it’s there. It’s warm and giddy and so him.

He shifts forward, nudging one knee between yours on the couch cushion. The closeness feels right as you tuck a hand into his soft hair, kisses getting a bit deeper.

A soft breathy noise comes out of his mouth at the touch, and it feels like a crime you’ve heard. When his tongue brushes just barely against your lower lip you gasp without meaning to. He doubles down, leaning in closer as his tongue pushes past your lips, taking control.

The kiss turns more confident, Ryland’s anxieties melting into quiet confidence as he takes the lead. His tongue moves gently against yours, testing and learning. It’s not the first time you two have made out like this, but it’s the first time you’ve known where it’s going.

You gasp again. not from surprise this time, but from the sudden rush of sensations. Your fingers tighten in his hair on instinct. He hums softly at the reaction, God he likes that, and does it again: slow, warm pressure of his lips with just enough teasing glide to make your stomach flip over itself.

“Can we- can-...” You don’t know how to ask, but Ryland seems to understand as he starts taking his own shirt off before helping with yours. Once it’s off he stares for a beat or two before kissing at your neck.

“You’re so gorgeous… how’s no one done this yet?”

The words make you bite your lip, and you grow more needy by the minute. You’ve heard about sex, red about it, know there’s usally more build up and foreplay but you think if you don’t have Ryland Grace in you right now you might die. So you express that, very calmly.

“I really need you to fuck me.”

The tops of his ears turn an even more scarlet color as he sits up to look at you before nodding, kissing you again and helping you out of your shorts.

Ryland's hands are warm and shaky as they slide down your back, his breath hitching when he takes you in with your matching set. He kisses you again, softer this time, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips.

When he pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s a quiet awe in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.

He leans in slowly, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline, then down the side of your neck.

Your hands find his jeans, helping him out of them till he's just in his boxers and you in your underwear and bra.

“My- my room?”

Ryland nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. If… if that’s okay? I mean- your bed is bigger than the couch, and…” He trails off, suddenly flustered again.

Without another word, he stands and offers you his hand, you take it with a gentle ease.

Before you know it you're in your room, grinding against each other on your bed. It's a bit awkward, but it feels too good for either of you to care.

Ryland reaches behind you, fumbling slightly with the clasp of your bra. His fingers brush against your back and he’s trying so hard to be careful.

When it finally comes undone and slips off, he stares for half a second too long before leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss just above your heart. More and more kisses before you drag him back up.

"Ry... need you, please?"

Without hesitation, he kisses you deeply, one hand sliding up to cup your breast as the other finds its way to the edge of your panties.

He breaks away just long enough to pull off his own boxers (You try not to gawk but, wow. Will it even fit?) then hovers over you for a second like he's double-checking that this is real. That you want him.

Then his mouth crashes back onto yours.

The kiss is messy, hungry, Ryland’s hands are everywhere at once, exploring your body like he's been starving for this. When his palm finally brushes over your bare breast, he makes a quiet sound against your lips.

Your back arches automatically in response, and Ryland stops looking so nervous as he drops to his knees between your legs, against you with more certainty than either of you ever thought was possible.

Both of you gasp when he moves his hips slowly against yours, pressing down against you with his hard-on through your panties.

He backs up far enough for a few seconds to gaze down at you with a ragged breath and red-cheeked face, the state of his hair a testament to the work of your hands.

Taking another deep breath, he lowers his lips to kiss a trail down your neck, farther down and farther down until he meets the line of lace on your panties.

Shaking slightly, his fingers slide inside the lace fabric hesitating for one breathless moment before tugging them down.

Once he takes your panties off, Ryland looks at you in amazement for a few seconds before kissing down to your stomach.

Before you have a chance to feel embarrassed because of his gaze, Ryland gives you a gentle kiss on the spot you want him most.

He does it again, and with a bit of confidence… then again with more force.

You exhale heavily and move your pelvis, not out of impatience because of his inexperience but out of pleasure. It was beyond your expectations to experience something like this.

Ryland understands you are enjoying this, and he becomes more confident now.

Again, Ryland kisses, and with curiosity, licks you.

When you whimper and your fingers tighten in his hair? That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His movements grow more confident as he starts exploring with soft licks and gentle suction.

"Ry- no, no, no... want you... want your..."

Ryland lifts his head immediately at the sound of your voice, eyes dark with want but still so full of concern.

"Want me?" he breathes, hovering over you.

You nod wildly, helping him up off the bed using his shoulders until you’re making out again. That taste, the flavor of you on his lips, has your stomach doing somersaults.

You assist him into position, feeling a little anxious yet equally eager for what he wants.

Ryland shudders as he nestles between your thighs, pressing the length of his body to yours.

He lowers his hands to align himself, pausing as the two of you take deep breaths, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

And then, oh so slowly… he slides inside.

A soft gasp escapes his lips, overwhelmed at the sensation of that tight heat closing around him for the first time.

It’s intense, but Ryland holds still, allowing you time to get used to it.

Once the initial discomfort fades slightly, he rolls his hips in the tiniest experimental movement, just an inch deeper.

He’s trying so hard not to rush or hurt you despite how overwhelmed he clearly feels too.

Ryland starts moving properly now, small, careful thrusts that gradually build in rhythm. Every time he sinks deeper, his breath hitches.

He kisses you at every motion: kisses your lips, your cheekbone, the edge of your mouth, wherever needed to relieve the pressure of intense pleasure with tender kisses.

His hands are soft against your hips as he begins moving steadily in such a way that pleases both of you. He places one of his hands on yours beside your head, holding your fingers in a vice-like grip.

Ryland's lips open into a silent cry as the pleasure mounts, his thrusting becomes more frantic.

Your bed groans softly beneath the two of you, and then he crushes his lips against yours with fierce passion and biting.

You can feel his body tensing with every movement; he’s so close but trying to make it last for you, even though it’s clearly overwhelming him.

Seeing him like that brings you over the edge, tightening around him with a sharp bite to your bottom lip.

Ryland feels the tightening sensation enveloping him; suddenly, all of him tenses up. With a strangled gasp, he succumbs to the feeling. For an instant, Ryland gazes at you in disbelief, eyes wide open and struggling for breath… Then with an earth-shattering groan, he drives into you, spilling himself in a torrent of pleasure while jerking his hips in spasms.

Ryland slumps on top of you, limp and panting, his chest pressing against yours as he remains embedded in you… shaking from head to toe because of the after-effects.

In silence, he rests for what seems like ages… then plants a languid kiss on your shoulder, saying:

"Holy fudge."

For a long moment, neither of you moves.

The room is filled with nothing but the faint hum of your fan. Ryland’s face is buried against your shoulder, warm and flushed, hair damp at the edges from sweat. His hand is still tangled tightly with yours like he forgot to let go.

You can feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest.

Slowly, he lifts his head just enough to look at you.

His glasses are gone somewhere. His lips are swollen from kissing. He looks absolutely beautiful.

“…Did we just do that?”

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “I think we did.”

“Oh my gosh.”

He drops his forehead onto your collarbone dramatically.

“Oh my gosh,” he repeats, voice muffled now. “People are just walking around having sex like that regularly? On weekdays?”

You start laughing harder, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably.

Ryland lifts his head again, looking almost offended by the concept itself.

“No wonder everyone’s distracted all the time. I don't know how I’m gonna be able to focus anymore.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And you like it.”

“I really do.”

That soft, wrecked smile appears again immediately.

You brush sweaty hair back from his forehead gently, and his expression melts further somehow, eyes fluttering half-shut beneath your touch.

“You okay?” he asks after a second, suddenly serious again. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The concern in his voice is so immediate, so genuine, that your chest aches.

“No,” you promise softly. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ryland visibly relaxes, exhaling hard through his nose before dropping another kiss to your shoulder.

“Okay. Good.”

He stays there another moment before abruptly freezing.

“Oh no.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“The condom.”

You blink.

Then both of you look downward simultaneously like two scientists realizing they forgot a critical variable halfway through an experiment.

“…We absolutely forgot the condom.”

Ryland makes a strangled noise of horror and flops sideways onto the mattress.

“We’re too smart for this,” he groans into your pillow. “This is humiliating.”

“You teach biology!”

“I know!”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified and laughing all at once. “Oh my God.”

Ryland peeks at you from where he’s collapsed dramatically beside you.

“In my defense,” he says solemnly, “you were very distracting.”

“In your defense?”

“Yes. I’m assigning blame collaboratively.”

You make an incoherent embarrassed sound while he grins lazily at you. Then, predictably, the grin fades into concern again.

“…We should probably handle that responsibly.”

“Probably.”

“I can run to the pharmacy?”

You glance at the clock.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“There are twenty-four-hour pharmacies.”

“You don’t have to sprint into the night immediately after losing your virginity.”

“That sentence feels fake.”

“It does a little.”

Ryland laughs quietly, then reaches over to tuck you against his side. The mood settles softer after that. You lie there tangled together beneath your blankets, skin cooling slowly, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your arm.

After a while, Ryland speaks again, voice quieter now.

“I was really nervous.”

You tilt your head to look at him. “You hid it well.”

“I absolutely did not.”

He smiles faintly at the ceiling.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I got so into my own head about it over the years that it started feeling impossible. Like everyone else had some instruction manual I missed.”

Your heart twists.

“Yeah,” you admit softly. “Me too.”

Ryland turns toward you then, expression open in that devastatingly sincere way of his.

“Well,” he says gently, “for the record? I’m really glad it was you.”

You lean forward and kiss him again, slow and sleepy this time.

“I’m glad it was you too.”

Ryland hums happily against your mouth.

“…Also?”

“Hmm?”

“We were actually pretty good at that for two people operating entirely on instinct and yearning.”

You snort so loudly you scare yourself. Ryland immediately looks smug.

“I’m serious! There was teamwork. Communication. Strong fundamentals.”

“You’re grading our sex like a lab report.”

“I’m saying we showed promise.”

“Oh my God.”

“Further research may be necessary.”

You groan into his shoulder while laughing helplessly, and he catches your hand to kiss your knuckles with ridiculous fondness.

You’re not embarrassed anymore.

Not even a little.

______________________

“Ry? What’s wrong?” You kept your voice low, even in the soundproof study room. This conversation had apparently been too important to wait until you were in the privacy of your home.

You held your breath as you waited for his answer. Your time was his, for however long he needed to get the words off his chest.

“There’s no easy way for me to say this, Y/N.” Ryland leaned towards you a bit, as if he was about to entrust you with a secret that he needed to get off his chest. In the end, he cut right to the chase. “I’ve been asked to go on the Hail Mary.”

The words chilled you to the bone. “What?”

You hadn’t realized how drastically your life would change when your husband had been recruited for Project Hail Mary. Over the course of his experimentation with Astrophage, Ryland had covertly updated you on his progress. It was something you were thankful for, especially now.

You had been under the impression that he would be exempt from going on the mission. After all, he had gone through none of the typical training required of astronauts. Apparently, that didn’t matter in this case.

You listened carefully as Ryland provided you with an explanation. Both of the scientists who had been selected to go ln the mission had died in an accident in the lab. And now, in a twist of fate, there was no one else who could possibly fulfill all the necessary criteria for the role…except for him.

“I have less than three hours to think about it,” he concluded.

Your heart sank. So that was all the time you had left with him, before he would be lost to you forever. No wonder he had come running straight to you with the news.

“What are you going to tell them?”

You knew what his answer would be the moment you looked into his eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t want to leave you.” Ryland wiped away a tear before it could drip down onto the study desk and leave a temporary stain. “Besides, the kids need me here.”

You nodded solemnly. “I know.”

You had seen firsthand evidence of exactly how much Ryland cared about his students. He always cheered them on, encouraging them to be their best selves no matter what life decided to throw in their paths. And from what you could tell, they adored him for it.

“But…” Ryland continued with a shaky breath. “I can’t do it.”

He shook his head, as if this entire scenario was unbelievable to him as well. But to you, this was hardly news. He had never been the bravest person…unless it involved you.

“What if I came with you?”

The decision had been made before you even opened your mouth. It had been so obvious; right there in front of you the entire time. You would do whatever it took to stay with your husband.

“What? No, Y/N, you can’t…” Ryland wiped at the tears that had begun to well in his eyes once again and amended his words. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

You reached for his hand across the study room table. The longer your fingers stayed intertwined, the more it struck you that this could be the last time you ever felt his touch. “But that way, you won’t be alone. It’ll be me and you, together. Okay?”

It was practically unthinkable for you to be separated from him. In the span of time that you had known each other, you had rarely been apart for so long, until now. You couldn’t conceive what it would be like to part with Ryland forever. For all intents and purposes, you were his only family.

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll do this together.” He wiped away yet another tear, seeming to resign himself to his fate. If all went according to plan, it was a fate you would share. “So how is this going to work?”

“I’ll just say…I don’t know.” You sat back in your seat, your posture straight. As soon as you spoke, the beginnings of an idea had already formed in your mind. “Someone has to record and keep track of all that data, right?”

You spent the rest of your time in the study room discussing everything you could do to persuade the team to send you along with Ryland on the mission. And in the middle of all your brainstorming, you came up with what you saw as a foolproof tactic.

You ultimately decided to offer yourself up as collateral. Ryland had helped you go over your argument time and time again, perfecting it until you were certain that there was no way the answer would be no. You would convince every government of the world to make an exception for you; make them see how much they needed you. Failure was not an option.

In the end, you would remember that moment as one of the worst moments of your life. It was second only to when the time came for Ryland to give his answer, a mere few hours later. The only small comfort you could think of was that you would be by his side long before the two of you wound up eleven lightyears away from Earth.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

From the moment you woke up on the Hail Mary, you forced yourself to remain calm and collected. Your mind was still fuzzy during your reintroduction to the waking world, but lucid enough to have your memories slowly return to you. At the very least, you could be grateful for that fact.

“Welcome back, Payload Specialist Y/N,” the ship’s computer greeted you when all was said and done, and you had passed the cognition assessment.

“Thank you, Mary,” you replied.

You decided to dress in the orange mission jumpsuit you had found that was tailored precisely to fit your frame. Directly above the patch with your maiden name on it, a golden winged badge had been affixed to your suit. It was as if you were meant to be part of the crew all along.

Flashes of memories passed through your mind, from your whirlwind plan to board the Hail Mary to the plan’s ultimate execution. You had gotten exactly what you wanted in the end. It had been surprisingly easy to convince the team to agree, despite all of the accommodations that would have to be made for you. Your presence on the ship was seen as an added incentive for your crewmate to complete the necessary work to save humanity. But that was something you had anticipated, and would never regret.

A minute or two of exploration revealed that you were not the only one who had survived the trip into space. You took a moment to pause at the signs that marked two of your fellow astronauts deceased, pondering what could have been. But all was not lost. Judging by the sole empty bed you had observed upon first waking up, at least one other person had survived besides you.

A series of footsteps caught your attention, abruptly bringing you out of your thoughts. And then a man stepped into the room.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake!”

You looked up sharply and found yourself staring into the captivating blue shade of his eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you knew him from somewhere, but you couldn’t be sure.

His blond hair was cut short, the way he clearly preferred it. His glasses rested properly on his nose, although they had slid down a bit. Oddly enough, you felt the need to readjust them for him. He even wore the same jumpsuit as you, identical to yours in nearly every way, except for the name Grace embroidered on the patch.

There was another name on the tip of your tongue that you were sure also belonged to him. You took a chance and spoke it out loud.

“Ryland?”

His eyes widened as you slowly stood up, intending to make your way over to him. He took a slight step back, as if to prevent you from coming any closer to him. You could understand; after all, you were as much of a stranger to him as he was to you. At least you had full confirmation that you weren’t the only person alive on the ship.

And yet the words that left his mouth filled you with a sense of dread.

“I guess you know me; that’s great, but…I don’t seem to know you.”

You indicated the patch on your jumpsuit as if it was the only thing that could help to jog his memory. “I’m your crewmate, Y/N.“

The words came out stilted, not quite the way you had imagined them in your head. You hated that you couldn’t fully remember anything about who you were, but it was the most logical explanation you could come up with. Of course you would be lucky enough to have the privilege of dying in space alongside such an attractive man.

“Y/N. Hi.” Ryland gave you a soft smile.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice equally as soft. It was as if you had known each other in a past life, and were picking up right where you left off.

Ryland stared at you over the top of his glasses. “So how much do you remember?”

“Not much,” you admitted. But as soon as you spoke, an idea struck home. You dug around in the pockets of your mission standard jumpsuit. “But I think these photos are supposed to help.”

Your hand closed around a Polaroid and you showed it off to Ryland. It had been one of the first things you had found among your belongings, and you were already growing particularly fond of it. In the photo, you stood in front of a library, a grin on your face.

Ryland leaned over to get a better look at the photo. He studied it as carefully as if he was studying a crucial science experiment. You caught the smile that flickered across his face.

After a moment, he looked up. There was something almost hopeful in his expression. “Can you help me get my memories back, too?”

In the span of that moment, you had found a new purpose, in addition to the one you already had. You would make it your mission to help Ryland remember his past, while figuring out the pieces that were missing from your own life.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I can do that.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You sat across from Ryland on the floor in the observation room, making sure to keep a careful distance. In between you, several Polaroids were splayed out in no particular order. Most of them had been stashed among your belongings, except for the single photo of him all alone that sat directly in the middle of the pile. By all rights, that belonged to him.

It had been your suggestion to try this method in the first place. You were thankful that it had helped both of you to remember a little bit more of your past, even if the first few memories to resurface were far from being as vivid as you’d hoped.

Each time Ryland remembered something new, he would run it by you, waiting for your confirmation or denial. The two of you would compare notes and see if your stories matched up. It had almost become a game that you thoroughly enjoyed. After all, it brought you closer to him.

There was no trace of the frightened man who you now vaguely remembered from your last moments on Earth. In fact, he seemed to be almost at peace with the situation.

Ryland spent his time toying with the simple gold ring that rested on his fourth finger, twisting it around almost long enough to become a habit. So far, he hadn’t asked you about it. You anticipated the inevitable day when that particular conversation would have to happen, since you had noticed a similar ring on your finger as well.

As if he could read your mind, Ryland looked up. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You know, I…” Tears began to form in his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

All of a sudden, leaned forward and wrapped you up in a hug. He clung to you as if you were the only thing in the world that was keeping him together. And up in space, that was more crucial than ever.

You immediately melted into his embrace. From what you could remember, the last time you had been so close to Ryland had been when the two of you were still on Earth. And now, it was like feeling the ground beneath your feet again. Like coming home.

You had slowly begun to remember bits and pieces about Ryland, triggered by an arbitrary set of variables that you felt you had almost figured out. He had been so touch starved, deprived of any other human connection before he met you. It hurt so much to think about, even after all this time.

You sat back and looked into his eyes.

“And I’m glad we’re not alone anymore.”

Without thinking, you reached for his hand. The moment your fingers brushed his, your heart began to race. But Ryland didn’t pull away. In fact, he laced his fingers through yours.

Little did you know how true your words would turn out to be.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It had taken time to get used to the idea that there was intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. From the moment the Blip A arrived in your orbit, you and Ryland had been of the same mind, wanting to protect yourselves in case of the very real possibility that your companions in space were hostile. No matter the outcome, you would never be able to think of science fiction novels in the same way again.

You were well aware of the limits of what your mind could handle. Data sets and cataloging were no problem for you, considering how often you dealt with them in your career. The fact that aliens were real? That left you completely out of your depth.

You stood next to Ryland at the airlock as he prepared to communicate with the alien aboard the Blip A for the third time. He had foregone the bulky red EVA spacesuit that he had used during his first two trips into the tunnel that connected both ships. As Ryland had discovered, the precaution was unnecessary, since his half of the tunnel was full of oxygen.

This time around, he carried two of the laptops that had been stored on the ship, held together with duct tape and a dream. You had worked with him to establish a language model program; a better way to communicate with the almost spider-like alien who Ryland had decided to call Rocky. It was a historic moment that deserved to be celebrated and documented.

You held out your hand, an invitation for him to accept or deny as he saw fit. Ryland mimicked your motions, aligning his free hand with yours until your fingertips brushed. You took a risk and threaded your fingers through his.

“Be safe,” you told him, squeezing his hand once. It took everything you had not to let the words you truly wanted to say tumble from your mouth. You had no idea if he would ever be ready to hear them, coming from you.

“I will.”

You watched carefully as Ryland let go of your hand and began his journey into the tunnel. The long cords attached to the LED lights he had used during his second venture created a pathway for him to navigate his way forward. He walked backwards a few steps, allowing himself the best view of the Hail Mary…and you.

You lingered at the edge of the airlock for as long as you could. It became impossible to tear your eyes away from your crewmate. There was still a high possibility that this would be the last time you ever saw each other. If that was the case, you wanted to make sure that the moment would be ingrained in your mind forever.

Ryland gave you a smile that was barely visible from inside the dimly lit tunnel. This was shortly followed by a small wave, which you promptly returned.

When Ryland had fully disappeared into the tunnel, you headed back into the Hail Mary with a slightly heavy heart. You knew very well that there was still plenty of work to be done. And for the moment, you were the only one left to see that the tasks would be completed.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You spent hour after hour scrolling through all the data that Ryland had brought back to you, as a result of his subsequent trips into the xenonite tunnel. A small, triumphant moment of gloating had been allowed in honor of your past self’s intuition. You had been right, after all.

Your purpose in coming on the mission was even more vital than you had anticipated. The skillset you possessed in synthesizing data was best utilized towards transferring the information Ryland had obtained over to the probes that would eventually be sent back to Earth. You had made a promise and you were determined to keep it, despite your lingering ire at all parties involved.

The footage you viewed had been taken during the early stages of when Ryland had begun to communicate with Rocky, which already seemed like it had occurred a lifetime ago. According to the footage that had been captured so far, Rocky had proved to be extensively smart and curious.

“How many humans on Grace ship, question?”

“My original crew was four,” Ryland replied. “Two died on the way here. Now it’s only me…and Y/N.”

A crash sounded from somewhere on the ship, startling you away from the work you were supposed to be focused on. You paused the video and briefly took your eyes off of the footage before you had the chance to decide how to categorize it.

“Ry? Are you okay?”

The sound of footsteps was shortly followed by your husband’s voice. You recognized the tone; it was the one he used when his students were growing unruly. And it was something you hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Ryland? What’s going on?”

Moments later, his voice reached you. It was enough to calm you down, but only so much.

“Y/N, hey. Don’t freak out, okay?”

You kept moving forward, regardless of the request. Nothing good ever followed the words your crewmate had spoken.

The moment you stepped around the corner, your breath caught in your throat. You stopped in your tracks at the sight that awaited you.

“Oh my God.”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you to finally meet Rocky, in person.

Instead of being comfortable staying on his side of the tunnel, he was encased in a clear ball that allowed him to move around freely in the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the Hail Mary. If you had to take a guess, it was made of the same material as the tunnel connecting the Hail Mary to the Blip A. A material that Ryland had dubbed xenonite.

“Hello Grace friend! I am Rocky. Rocky from Erid.”

He raised one of his claws and waved at you.

“Oh.” You let out a slow breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, then gave him a slight wave in return. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Ryland said, turning to you and running a hand through his hair. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “He invited himself up.”

“My bedroom over there!” Rocky suddenly exclaimed, pointing to an empty corner of the dormitory.

You followed the gesture with your eyes, letting the words sink in. “You’re…moving in with us?”

There was a limited amount of space on the Hail Mary as it was. But now, if things worked out as planned, the space would be shared among three of you.

“Yes. Is good plan.”

“A plan I never agreed to,” Ryland protested.

The more you thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The three of you would need to work together, given the amount of work that would go towards saving Earth and Erid. That was the only way your stars would survive.

“I dunno,” you mused. “It could be fun.”

It would be a completely new experience for you. Then again, you had experienced a lot of things for the first time up in space.

Rocky was silent for a moment, as if he was processing your answer. And then a series of solemn notes came from his carapace, and he echoed your thoughts from moments ago.

“Crew must stay together.”

You exchanged a glance with Ryland, hoping to convince him that this was the right thing to do.

After taking a few moments to think it over, he relented.

“Okay.”

And just like that, it had been decided. Rocky would join your crew.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Over the past several weeks, you had been spending more and more time in the laboratory, looking over some of the experiments that Ryland had done with the Taumoeba. He had implemented Rocky’s breeder tank design and would occasionally ask you to check his work, a task you were all too happy to perform.

Ryland stood next to you, analyzing the samples as you input the data into the laptop. From time to time he glanced in your direction, as if he was working up the courage to ask you a question. And at last, he did.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up, giving him your full attention. Ryland leaned against the wall of the ship, having decided to take a break from his work. His gaze was fixed on you, as if you held all the secrets of the universe in the palm of your hand.

“Can you tell me that story again? About how we first met.”

You turned away from your work and decided to indulge him. That particular memory was ingrained in your mind, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It was far past time that he knew the truth.

For a long time before you had even started dating, Ryland had been one of the San Francisco Public Library’s most frequent patrons. He’d tended to use the excuse of the quiet environment to spend his afternoons grading his students’ assignments. But, as you found out later, it was really an excuse to see you.

Over the course of several months, both of you had slowly gotten to know each other better. You had bonded over working with children and how much you enjoyed it. He became your favorite patron, though you would never admit it to anyone but yourself.

It had taken a long time before he’d worked up the courage to ask you out.

Ryland had a thoughtful look on his face when you finished your story. If he needed more time to absorb this information, you were determined to let him have it.

“So you’re telling me that we,” he gestured between the two of you, “were married.”

“Yeah,” you said. The words were careful, as if they would shatter the moment. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, because…I wanted to ask you about this.”

Ryland held up a Polaroid and passed it to you.

Your mouth fell open and your heart skipped a beat as you absorbed each detail that you could discern. This was it; the photo you had been unable to find, until now.

“Oh my God.”

In the photo itself, you had been lifted into Ryland’s arms, bridal style, as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. The two of you had been captured mid-kiss, oblivious to the rest of the world. A diamond engagement ring rested on your finger.

If this wasn’t enough proof to confirm the validity of your past, you had no idea what it was.

“So it’s true,” he said. “You’re my wife.”

“Yeah. It’s true.”

Ryland stretched out his hand, spending several seconds gazing at the gold band that rested on his ring finger. The same one from the photo, unchanged and untarnished after all this time.

“Holy smokes.”

He looked back up at you, eyes filled with wonder. You held up your hand to him, bringing your own matching wedding ring into his field of vision. It was another testament to the truth, and you hoped that it would be upheld as valid in a court of law, especially given your current circumstances.

“I know.”

The vows you had exchanged still echoed in your mind, as clearly as if the event had only taken place yesterday. It had been a small and quick ceremony down at City Hall. That had been more than enough for both of you.

“I must’ve done something right,” Ryland said. “I mean, gosh. Wow. You’re just so…”

He gestured at you, as if that could encompass everything he wanted to say.

“Thank you.” A slight heat crept into your cheeks. The last time you’d heard such a compliment from him had been back on Earth.

It warmed your heart to know that your wedding vows still meant something.

He moved closer to you, until his hands came up to gently cup your face. You leaned in at the same time, making your intentions clear. It was the perfect moment, everything you had been wanting.

And just as his lips were about to lower to yours…

“What Grace Y/N doing, question?”

You jumped apart immediately, as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Ryland turned to face Rocky and put his hands on his hips. “Rocky, we talked about this. You can’t just interrupt us when we’re having an important conversation.”

“Grace Y/N very close proximity,” Rocky observed, completely ignoring the admonishment. “Increased heart rate. Is part of human mating process, question?”

Heat began to build beneath your skin. “How do you even know about that?” you asked.

“Grace teach Rocky human biology.” There was a pause, and then… “Humans need time alone to mate, question? I will give.”

Ryland covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

With a series of satisfied notes, Rocky headed towards the dormitory, where his bedroom had been set up.

“Wow,” you said with a light laugh. “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Ryland smiled. “But you get used to it.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The dormitory was bathed in dim light as the Hail Mary switched to the night cycle. You had settled in the space next to your husband, looking forward to spending another night in his arms.

Rocky prepared to watch you and Ryland sleep from his place above your bed. The Eridian cultural norm was something you still hadn’t quite gotten used to. But over time, you had come to accept it.

Ryland shifted onto his side, his arm stretched out towards you in invitation.

“Come here, honey.” He gave you a fond smile. “I sleep better when I’m with you, anyway.”

“Me too.”

You fulfilled his request and snuggled up to him. The warmth of his body was comforting as you rested your head on his chest. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend that you were back on Earth.

Muscle memory took over as your fingers wound absently through Ryland’s hair. Without prompting, another pleasant memory rose to the surface of your mind. There had been countless times when you and Ryland had lied together in bed almost exactly like this, talking late into the night. You had anticipated never having the opportunity to experience that again…but you had been proven wrong.

Ryland made a small sound in the back of his throat, bringing you back to the present.

You pulled your hand away as quickly as if you’d come into contact with the ammonia-rich atmosphere on Rocky’s ship. “Are you okay, Ry? Sorry. Was that too much?”

“No, no; please don’t stop,” Ryland said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “That feels really nice.”

You didn’t hesitate to oblige him. Your hand went back into his hair and you continued to card your fingers through it. A soft smile spread across his face.

Eventually your hand motions stilled. But as your hand came down again, Ryland brushed his hand against yours before intertwining your fingers.

“Let’s stay like this for awhile,” you suggested.

“That’s a great plan. Yeah. I like that plan.”

Your eyes fluttered closed. For awhile you were content to lay beside your husband, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

You had nearly drifted off when Rocky decided to speak up.

“Grace still awake, question?”

“Yeah, pal.” The words were punctuated by a yawn. “What’s up?”

“You are lucky to have mate here.”

“Trust me, I know,” Ryland said. Even in your half-asleep state, you could feel his gaze drift to you.

“Grace Y/N complete human mating process. Have many tiny humans!”

You felt Ryland’s heartbeat speed up as he let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

A slow smile started to spread across your face. Though you had never had the opportunity to discuss it with Ryland back on Earth, you had always imagined that future for yourself. For a time, you had thought that there was a possibility that it wouldn’t be able to happen. But you had been proven wrong.

Your hands were still intertwined with your husband’s when you finally drifted off to sleep, fully content with your life for the first time in a long time.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The green light on the small handheld camera blinked once before remaining steady. You sat next to Ryland, making one last contribution to the series of vlogs the two of you had put together, detailing all your findings. Rocky had insisted on being a part of the project, offering valuable contributions and insight.

You had spent weeks on end making extra copies of all the research you had organized, as well as all of the footage from your vlogs, so that there would be an increased chance of it surviving. There had been enough storage space left for one last recording before the probes would have to be sent off.

“Do you miss home, question?”

“Not really,” Ryland admitted. “I have everything I need right here.”

“Same,” you added.

You looked into each other’s eyes. A smile spread across your face.

“Good good good. Other humans treat Grace Y/N like ♫. Eridians different. Eridians will love you.”

Tears began to well in Ryland’s eyes. “You promise?”

“Yes. I promise. Rocky love love love Grace Y/N.”

“Aw,” you said. “We love you, too, Rocky.”

You and Ryland enveloped Rocky in a group hug, the recording briefly forgotten. He participated in the only way he could, pressing up against the barrier of xenonite that kept him safe.

Eventually, Ryland turned back to the camera and gave his closing statement.

“This is Dr. Captain Ryland Grace and Payload Specialist Mrs. Y/N Grace, reporting from the Hail Mary.”

You performed an Eridian farewell for all the people of Earth, copying your husband’s actions. In the background, Rocky voiced his approval.

After making sure that the camera had captured everything, you leaned forward and stopped the recording. The screen faded to black, severing your last link to Earth. And in that moment, it was as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Ryland peaked from behind his fingers, his eyes set on your figure as you were busy preparing bowls of different coloured frosting for the sugar cookies in your next batch. Your hair was tucked behind your ears, wearing one of his oversized science pun shirts, body lightly swaying to the music that played from your headphones that you put on in courtesy as not to distract him from his work.

Gosh, he was so in love with you. You were the biggest sweetheart he had ever met. During the early years of you both being together, he had once mentioned that he wanted to do something special for his students at the end of the school year. It was a thought in the passing, but you remembered and came back with the idea of baking cookies for all your students as a ‘well done’ reward for finishing the school year, and since then it has become an yearly tradition for this time of the year. Each year, you would ask Grace to put a bonus question on one of his tests about the kid’s favourite type of cookie, and make a bunch from those for the last week of school. Initially, Ryland tried to help out with the baking aspect, however, it was evident pretty quickly that the skill wasn’t part of his forte. So, instead you baked extra batches of sugar cookies he could help to decorate to make sure he had a part in the process.

His hand moved to where his head rested against his palm, leaning into his arm. He sat there, a smile on his lips, captivated by your presence, your whole being, just finding joy in admiring you in your element. He felt as the luckiest person on earth to have married you. As he gazed at you, with literal hearts in his eyes, he noticed your eyes shift towards him, having felt his stare on yourself. He noticed the gentle smile that instantly tugged towards the corner of your lips, your eyebrow playfully arching with a playful expression of ‘what’.

He just continued to look at you for a moment, holding your gaze with his, before he mouthed you an ‘I love you.’ The smile on his lips widened when you replied with a ‘I love you more.’ He couldn’t hold himself anymore. He had this sudden urge to hold you, have you in his arms, be as close to you as possible. He suddenly got up from the high stool chair he sat on, almost knowing it over, but catching it just in time. Before turning the corner of the kitchen island, in a hurry that seemed as if he was missing a train, before literally crashing into you and wrapping his arms tightly around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. This earned him a laugh from you, feeling it through your body as he held you, causing him to smile against your shoulder.

For a few moments, he just held you in his arms, leaning the side of his head against your, gently swaying your bodies to the music that leaked from your headphones, as you finished making the frosting for the sugar cookies. You grabbed a clean spoon, dipped it into the bowl and brought it up to Ryland for him to taste. He poked out his tongue, and took a little lick. In the process, he noticed the little amount of frosting that had gotten on to your fingers, leading to a little mischievous idea to play in his mind.

The hand that had sat against your tummy, came up to grab the spoon out of yours, still enclosing you in his embrace, while the other took a hold of your wrist, his thumb pressing into the curve of your palm. He brought your hand to his mouth, gliding his tongue along the side of your pinky, in a slow and deliberate motion, licking up any stray frosting in the way. He then turned his attention to the crevices between your fingers. There was no frosting there, he was just doing this out of his own greed now, licking between the spaces while looking up at you, as your own eyes gazed intently at his action.

After a few moments, he retrieved slightly, a small string of saliva making a path connecting from his bottom lip to your hand, breaking when he leaned in to place a kiss on your palm, just below your fingers. Your breath staggered for a moment, which he noticed as it made him grin against your palm.

Oh, he was having too much fun with this.

You pulled your hand out of grip, giving him a light glare. You grabbed the spoon back from him and finished the frosting that he hadn’t, maybe just ever so slowly, giving the spoon deliberate long licks. His eyes were locked on your lips, on the way they part just enough let your tongue slip out to lick the frost, noticing the way some smudged on your lips. The visual just sent blood rushing through his body, a small flush starting to appear on his cheeks, as his ears started to turn red.

In a swift movement, he had you turn around, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the edge of the kitchen island, his lips meeting yours with desperation that had built up in him. Your one arm wrapped around his shoulder, while your other hand gripped his bicep, in an effort to ground yourself as you melted into his kiss, the sweetness of the frosting remnant between the exchange.

The kiss broke, as you both parted to catch your breath, his eyes meeting yours with the look of someone so hopelessly in love (which he totally was), a beaming smile on his lips. He began to lean in for another kiss, just as the sound of the timer for the cookies rang through the space, and before his lips could meet yours, you pressed your fingers against his mouth.

“The cookies are done,” you voiced the obvious, prying out of Ryland’s hold and walking to the oven that was behind him. A whine left your husband's mouth, missing your presence against his. You heard his frustrated ‘honey’ from behind you‘, as he leaned against the island, crossing his arms in front of his chest, brows furrowed as his eyes followed your movements. You grabbed an oven mitten, taking out the two trays of cookies and placing them on top of the stove, replacing the empty oven with the two new trays of cookie dough you had already prepared.

You turned around, having put in the new batch, to see Ryalnd’s eyes locked onto you, a frown apparent on his features, while his blue eyes looked at you with intent and a slight plea behind them. You cross your arms in front of your chest as well, imitating his pose. Both of you just stood there looking into each other’s eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He broke the silence first with his question.

“Well yes, you have, in fact you do quite often,” you rebutted.

“Have I ever shown you how much I love you?”

Before you could answer, he began talking once more, “actually, I don’t think I show you enough,” he exclaimed, answering the question himself.

“You’ll let me show you how much I love you, right? Honey?”

How could you resist him, when your husband looked all hot like that. You pretended to ponder on the question, looking behind you at the clock on the oven. You walked over to him, propping yourself onto the counter and pulling himself between your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“We do have fifteen minutes before the next batch finishes, so-” before you could even finish, his lips were already on you.

“I love you!”

Your husband was no less than his daughter. After her birth, Ryland was always determined to finish his work as soon as possible so that he could come home to spend more time with his daughter. If there was anything that he couldn’t get done, he would just bring it home, insisting that he will finish it while watching over her, while you rest, which often ended up with him scrambling to finish it late in the night after she had fallen asleep. You would often glance over from the kitchen, to find your husband taking part in one of her plays for the day. Or her sitting on his chest, capturing his full attention as she rambled on in her jumbled vocabulary of a few human words with heavy baby talk, going on about stuff that barely had any meaning behind it.

Whenever you saw them together, it made your heart melt. You had dreamed of moments like these, imagining what it would be like to have mini versions of both of you running around your home, knowing what an amazing father Ryland would be. The image of him holding her for the first time still sat on your bed stand.

“Dada’s in the bathroom, baby” and with that her small feet were already waddling their way towards the bathroom, her fluffy blonde hair bouncing against her head with each step she took towards her destination with determination. You shook your head with a small smile, going back to cutting fruit for her. All those months of keeping her inside you, for only to come out as a complete replica of her dad, you weren’t complaining though, they both were quite cute.

You could hear her tiny call to her dad outside the bathroom door, followed by Ryland's “coming sweetheart,” before the creak of the door opening. However, the moment didn’t last long, before your daughter came running to you, screaming and crying. You quickly moved the plate of fruit and the knife out of the way before she got in between your legs, hugging your neck tightly, your arms wrapping around her instinctively.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, but didn't have to wait for her to answer as you looked up to see your husband, wearing just a pair of old gray sweatpants and freshly clean shaved face, walking towards you both with worry evident before his pretty blue eyes. Ryland came and kneeled beside your figure, gazing at his daughter with clear concern as to why she ran like that from her favourite person in the whole world, before they turned to you, hearing you let a small laugh leave your lips.

“Honey, it’s okay,” you cooed as you rubbed her back, still held within your arms. Ryland glanced between your daughter and you, brows furrowed, as he looked like a lost puppy, asking you for an answer for what was happening. You just shook your head with a sheepish smile as you continued to sooth your daughter's back who was still crying in your arms.

Having gotten no response, Ryland placed a gentle hand to her back, slightly above your as well, while his other tapped against her arm that was still warped around your neck, in an effort to have her look at him. “Sweatheart, what’s going on, can you please tell da-da as well?”

At that, your daughter lightened her hold around you, and pushed back to look at Ryland, only to whip her head back to where it was against your shoulder, her arms wrapped around even more securely. You glanced at your husband, noticing the panic starting to set into his feature, but you decided to give a little calm, as the realization hit him with your next statement to your daughter.

“Honey, it’s dad, he just shaved his beard,” you told your daughter. Ryalnd had been busy in the last few weeks to up keep his trimmed beard that he supported so often, mostly do to extra work with trying to finish report cards on time and spending the resting of the time indulging to your but most importantly his daughter’s needs of having to play princess tea party with her dad. Ryland’s eyes went wide, coming to terms with the fact that his little daughter had never seen him with a fully shaved face, since the time she had started becoming conscious of her surroundings.

Your daughter pulled back, looking at Ryland with tear filled eyes, before looking at you, as her little finger pointed in an accusatory manner at her dad. “No! That’s not my da-da,” she spoke, with pouted lips. “Honey, it's him.”

“Yes! Sweetheart, look! It's me, dada,” Ryland exclaimed, his hands reaching to try to gently grab a hold of her little hand, but before he could, she quickly took them out of his reach, and placed them back around your neck. “No. No, No,” she huffed.

Ryland looked at you with pleading eyes, asking you to help him out. However, instead of doing that, you just reached your hand to pat off the few stray hairs that were still clinging to his chest, before shrugging your shoulders and giving him a little pout that imitated the one that is currently on his and your daughter’s features. Though the distance and the unfamiliarity didn’t last long, before you knew it, you glanced out of the kitchen to see them having their daily tea party, with Ryland wearing a little tiara above his messy blonde hair and the little tu-tu that your daughter insisted her precious da-da to wear.

It was wringing fingers and sideways glances. Truth glistening in held back tears, suspicion written in clenched fists. A bad energy vibrating in the little room marked by a number thirteen. 

It was too early for this. 

“You okay?” You glance up from the computer you were typing at, Princess leaning over the nurses station. “I saw you make a face back there after leaving that father and daughter.” 

“Uh, yeah.” You shake your head, trying to shrug off the feeling. “I just got a weird vibe. I don't know why.” Princess makes a face. 

“Sometimes people are like that. Just know we're here if things start taking a turn.”

“I know.”

“If you want, I can send Langdon in with you. I’m sure he'd love to play hero." You pause, looking up at Princess. You make a face, the two of you laughing. 

“It's just an ultrasound. She's probably got indigestion or something. Frank would claim it's boring.”

“Nothing's boring to him if you're involved.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your clipboard. 

“What’d be boring?” 

Speak of the devil. 

You look up, Frank rounding Princess and leaning over the station’s counter, head low enough for you to crane your neck and kiss him. You don't, just roll your eyes. Robby had a strict policy against public displays of affection. One Frank loved to toe the line of. And one you constantly had to steer him clear of. 

Frank frowns, a big pout as he drums the counter with his hands. 

“What, no kiss for the Doc?” 

“No. I'm busy.”

You did want to kiss him. Frank had a very compelling pout on his face and it was taking all of your energy to not simply lean into him and give a peck. Even a tiny one. But, you were a professional through and through.

Frank sighs, “Busy with something boring apparently. Come on let me spice it up, kiss me.” 

Princess snorts, shaking her head. 

“Your husband and his ego.” You give her a look. 

“You're telling me.” 

Frank crosses his arms, smiling in spite of the jab. You stand, letting Frank slide his hand along the curve of your shoulder as you gather your papers. He was reading your clipboard, an interested hum vibrating in his chest. 

“Miss Francis, seventeen. Coming in with abdominal pain, cramping and nausea. Uh oh, we all know what that means.” 

You give Frank a look as he grins, mouthing the diagnosis you refused to admit you'd been guessing as well. 

Pregnant. 

Princess shakes her head with a disapproving sigh. You roll your eyes. 

“You don't know that. Not everyone was a sex heathen like you during high school.” Frank shrugs. 

“Just saying. You saw her. Looks like she’s the popular type. Plenty of boyfriend opportunities. Dad looks strict enough to warrant the need to sneak around and be rebellious.” 

Princess snorts. "Judge much?” 

“I’m just saying,” he raises his hands defensively. You grab a fresh pair of gloves, rounding the station counter. “I’d bet twenty dollars she's pregnant.” Princess perks up at that, glancing at the two of you. 

“Hey, I’ll take that bet.”

Frank nods, shaking her hand. You sigh. 

“I am not betting on my patient. Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a young girl to take care of.” Frank sighs, reaching out and squeezing your hand as you pass by.

“‘Kay. Be careful.”

You give him a small smile, squeezing back. 

“Always.”

You make your way to the small curtained room, waving hello to Collins and Robby who were discussing an amputee who'd come in that morning. You reach the curtain, glancing back at Princess, now exchanging money with Dana behind the station.

Frank was turned back to the screen displaying the incoming patients, clearly cherry picking his next case. You shake your head, ducking behind the curtain.  

“Alright,” you smile politely, eyes darting between the girl on the examination table and the man beside her. “Sorry for the wait. We'll get this set up here and we should have a diagnosis and get you help with that pain.” 

“Sure,” the man grunts, arms folded. “Just hurry it up. We’ve already been waiting for three hours. I got work and she's got to study for her exams.” The girl looks down at her hands, embarrassed.

You smile thinly. 

“I’ll be as quick as I can. Miss Francis, do you mind laying down for me so we can take a peek at what's going on?” She nods, getting situated. 

You move the wand over her gelled belly, apologizing for how cold it was. You frown, eye darting between the screen and her father. He was glowering at you. Like anything you said would just plummet his already broken mood. 

Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Everything was in place, no oddity in her stomach lining or appendix or-

Oh. 

You swallow thickly, moving the wand over the lower part of her abdomen, staring at the screen. 

Frank was about to be twenty dollars richer. 

You clear your throat, looking down at the girl, her arms wrapped around herself. 

“Honey, do you remember when you said your last period was?” 

“Um, I dunno. I lost track I think.” 

“That's okay," you press your lips together, staring at the twelve week old fetus that told you exactly when she’d had her last period. 

“Would you say about three months ago sounds right?” 

“I- I dunno. Maybe,” she swallows nervously. You nod, glancing at her father. There was something dark brewing in his eyes, something that told you he already knew what was happening.

“What are you saying? She's pregnant?” He asks gruffly. 

The girl blanches. You stand there, unsure if it would be wise to answer that question. 

“Um, why don't I call my attending, see if he can get a better picture-” 

The man curses, turning from the two of you, your words dying before you can reach the curtain. Your pulse rises, watching as the girl’s chest begins to heave, her eyes darting between you and her father. She was scared. Really scared. 

“Daddy-” 

“Don’t!” He roars, pushing against the cart by the wall. Tools clatter and you gasp as he grabs a fistful of his daughter's hair. “You slut! You slut!” 

“Oh my- security!” You scream, throwing the curtain open. Dana looks up at you with horror from across the room, hand already reaching to call Ahmad.

You lunge towards the man, adrenaline coursing through you as you try to pry his hand off of the girl. 

“I’m sorry!” She sobs, wailing as her father tugs her. 

“You're too young. You can't- our whole future is on the line!” 

“Sir, I need you to calm down. You're not helping-” he whirls around on you, anger glaring in his eyes.  

“You have to be lying. Tell me you're lying!” He grips your scrubs, spit flying. 

“Let go of me!” 

He shoves you, turning back to his daughter as Robby enters the room. There's confusion and concern written on his face, shoulders tense as he takes in the distressing scene.

“Hey! What's going on?” 

The man moves to lunge for his daughter and you reach out to grab his arm, Robby moving at the same time, voice calm as he tries to deescalate the situation. It doesn't work. The man’s elbow jerks back as he dodges Robby, the sharp edge smacking you straight in the face. 

It's a blur as you stumble backwards, nose and lip stinging, tears welling up from the bright flashing pain. You fall to the floor, scrambling back on your hands to avoid the commotion of feet and hands. You groan as you hold your jaw, the metal tang of blood already filling your mouth. 

Security finally arrives, tearing the man away from the girl, dragging him out, his cursing still echoing down the hall. 

The girl is sobbing into Robby’s arms. Princess hurries in to help sooth her, Dana right behind, her voice in your ear as she crouches to check on you. You can't tell what she's saying, your head spinning, the girl's wails still ringing in your ear.

You're in shock, you think. Must be. Everything is suddenly too bright, too painful. Your nose feels like it's twice the size it should be, lip burning where it's been torn. 

“Honey, can you move? How bad does it hurt?” Dana asks, her hands resting against you protectively. 

You barely register the question, eyes darting to the open curtain as Frank comes running from somewhere in the pitt, a glove flying from his pocket, stethoscope bouncing against his chest. 

“Hey,” he pants, crouching down beside you. You try not to cringe as his knees hit the floor with a painful sounding crunch. “Hey, oh man.”

Frank cups your face, failing to hold back a grimace as he takes in the damage. You lean into his touch, Dana still rubbing your back, like she was afraid to leave you. 

“Is it bad?” You manage, blood slipping down your chin.  

Frank makes a face, thumb stroking your cheek. 

“It's not your best look.” You hum, letting Frank access you. Always a doctor. “That jerk split your lip. Gave you a bruised nose too- possibly a black eye.” 

You give a pained groan as his fingers graze a tender spot of your cheek. He lets out a shaky breath, turning back to the pitt’s central hall, eyes darting around. You reach out, clinging to his scrubs when you see his low drawn brows, the pure anger clearly written on his face.

Frank turns, watching as you shake your head. 

“Don't leave. Please.” 

His eyes soften, holding your hand tightly as he shushes you.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Not right now.” 

“Don't worry hon,” Dana pats your shoulder and stands. “Me and Robby’ll give him hell for you.” 

You hum, watching as she marches out to the nurses station. A woman on a mission. 

Frank looks at you carefully as you lick your lip, flinching at the sting. 

“Do you think you can stand?” You nod, letting him help you up. The poor girl was still sobbing on the bed, Princess holding her carefully, giving you a sympathetic look, already reading your mind. 

“She'll be okay. I’ll finish taking care of her. You go get yourself cleaned up.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting Frank guide you out of the room and into the lounge room. Away from the loud chaos of the pitt. Just the two of you. His arm was wrapped around you protectively; like anyone who tried to approach you would have to physically tear him from you.

Not that you minded. 

Frank pushes the door open, helping you into a chair carefully, his fingers working deftly on the emergency supply box on the wall. You huff as you pull out your phone, looking into the screens dark reflection at the mess of blood on your face.

You frown as you gently prod the yellow bruise already blooming along the side of your nose. Broken blood vessels and a deep purple bruise were also evident along the hollow of your under eye. And your lip-

You'd cringe but it hurt too much to move your lip. To smile even.

“Hey,” Frank says as he rolls a chair closer to you, gauze and a needle kit in his hand. “Don’t look at it. It’s not gonna help.”

You sigh, letting Frank turn your head as he sits, his blue eyes carefully inspecting the damage again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have gone in there alone. I knew something was up, knew…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. Frank looks at you, for once just listening.

Not that he didn’t listen to you regularly; of course he did. You were his wife after all. One of the rare people he spared from his incessant teasing and strange nicknames.

You continue, “I should have had you come with me. Or Princess. Maybe she would have known how to have handled it better.”

“You did what you could,” Frank takes a wet towel and cleans the wound on your lip, apologizing when you flinch. “You got her help as quick as you could. Hell, I think you would have tackled the man if you could.” You snort and Frank smiles.

“Yeah. I might have. If I knew Robby wouldn't kill me with the paperwork he’d have to fill out with HR.” Frank laughs, telling you to hold still as he dabs antiseptic and a numbing agent on your lip. You do, fingers digging into your scrub pants when he carefully places a stitch in your torn lip.

“It’s small. Real small. You probably don’t really need the stitch, but just in case.”

You watch his fingers as they work, pressing a small clear bandage over the stitch, the sticky thing feeling weird on your numbed skin. You catch the glint of his wedding ring, the sight still causing your heart to skip a beat after all these years.

“Okay," Frank huffs, throwing his balled up gloves across the room and into the trash. "You know the drill, no touching your lip or rubbing or lipgloss-anything like that til it’s healed and the stitch dissolves.” You frown. He cocks his head, an amused smile on his face. “What?”

“So... no kissing?” He clicks his tongue, shrugging. 

"Unfortunately no. think you can handle 48 hours without this?" He gestures to himself. You kick his shin lightly, eliciting a laugh from him as he rolls away, moving to wash his hands.

"You're the worst."

"Hey, you're the one who agreed to marry me. I thought you knew what you were signing up for."

You laugh, wincing with how tender your face still was. Frank looks over at you as he dries his hands, making sure you were okay. You look down at your hands, trying to ignore the slight flush on your cheeks.

"I just... maybe I'm regretting not kissing you earlier."

You glance up, Frank's eyebrows raised with a 'told you so' grin spreading across his face.

“Oh you do?”

Oh, you already regretted saying that.

“Okay-”

“I knew you were barley resisting me.”

“Oh my gosh, Princess was right,” You roll your eyes as Frank laughs, hiding behind your hands. 

“My poor wife needs a kiss. Here, I’ll give you one. Let me kiss it better-”

“Frank!” you give him a look as he crouches in front of you, carefully moving your hands away from your face. “But I shouldn’t-”

He hushes you, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your lip, avoiding the dark bruise forming and the stitch. You hum, leaning into his touch as he presses his lips softly against the bridge of your nose and your bruised eye. Your foreheads press together, resting gently against each other.

A rare calm in the emergency room. Under other circumstances you'd find it quite romantic.

Frank rests his hand on your thigh, rubbing a comforting circle with his thumb. “You sure you’re okay?” You nod.

“Always when you’re here.”

"Kay good. Cause Princess owes me twenty and I intend to collect." You hum.

"You better buy me a coffee later Doc." He stands, arms open with defensiveness.

"Don't I always treat you with my winnings?" You snort.

"Yes-"

"Alrighty then. Coffee in the AM. I don't think anyone's selling coffee after ten." You laugh, letting Frank pull you up out of the chair.

"It's a date."

He hums, hands resting on your waist for a moment too long.

"I love you."

You grin, standing on your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Frank smiles, thumb brushing against the fabric of your scrubs. You whisper it back, hand resting on his bicep.

"Love you too."

A throat clears from the entrance of the break room and the two of you freeze. You turn, looking back as Dr. Robby hangs in the doorway, an amused smile on his face.

"Everything alright in here?"

"Uh, yeah." Frank nods, patting your back and taking a step to the side.

"Yup. All good now."

"You sure?" You nod.

"Yeah. I'm fine. We'll be out there in a second."

"Okay," Robby says in a sing song voice. "Just don't do anything that'll make me have to call HR on the two of you again."

Frank rolls his eyes, already marching out of the room after Robby.

"That was one time. And it wasn't even that bad-"

"The two of you were in a storage closet."

"We were newly married-"

"God, that argument still doesn't help your case."

You shake your head amusedly.

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