Nightowl343

Ever since Simon catapulted into bizarre, bloody existence aboard the Hail Mary, Grace had been rattled. For the obvious reasons– Simon claimed to come from a world where the stars had already gone dark and humanity nearly extinct– and for the more nebulous, hard-to-pin-down reasons– Simon's haunted eyes and brooding silence stirred something in Grace. 

Grace found he wanted to care. Not just in the passive way that one might when comprehending the horrors of the world. But in a visceral, active way. In a way that spoke of tensed muscles and grinding bones. Of air drawing effortlessly into lungs. He wanted to move. To smooth the line that often formed between Simon's brows and sand down the blunt edge to his tone when they spoke of what came next. He wanted to be so alive, so vibrant with it that he’d actuate that apathetic frown Simon often wore into audacious hope. The same hope Grace dared to let himself feel when Rocky first shared his astrophage with him. And even though that plan had gone all to hell, Grace still felt that same throbbing hope tucked safely between his ribs. If Rocky said they’d find a solution when they arrived at Erid, Grace believed him. He wanted Simon to believe, too. Even if they couldn’t find a way back to their own worlds, they could still find a way to live. 

The only problem was, Grace wasn’t sure how. Would they really be able to survive after bringing Rocky home to Erid? Grace knew very well that their two species' atmospheres did not mesh. Would a future exist for either of them where the stars still shone?

Grace thought back to Simon’s brutal entrance aboard the Hail Mary. His panicked shouts roused Grace from a nap. He’d blinked so aggressively he thought an eye muscle had been strained, but he must surely still be sleeping. There was no way that crimson stain on the floor was really from a flesh and blood person. He looked to Rocky who waved two of his arms in the air frantically and that was enough to confirm this was not another known alien species who’d suddenly teleported aboard their ship. 

Grace followed the spattered dark red trail to the next room and found Simon huddled in a corner, so crusted with blood that it took Grace a moment to piece together that he was human and not some new vermillion local in the galaxy that Grace needed to hope would be as good a neighbor as Rocky. When Simon had finally calmed down enough to explain what had happened to him, Grace had tried very hard to keep his horror from showing on his face. Weren’t they just two peas in a sadistic governmental murder pod? Although, grimly, Grace thought that he might have gotten the better deal after all. 

They’d put their heads together trying to determine where Simon came from and how he’d come but mostly this was only theoretical musings. A lot of Grace’s contributions ended up sounding like the plot of an episode of Star Trek. See, Grace thought smugly, this is why you should only send astronauts to space. Astronauts could probably tell you right away why a beaten, battered, red brick of a man had materialized out of nowhere. 

Worse than not knowing what came next for them, was Grace's awkward, lacking proficiency in soothing another person. It was not as if he had no skills– he was a teacher after all and what kind of teacher didn’t know how to ease the sting of hurt feelings? But everything he might do was complicated by the fact that any assurances he could make rang hollow like the empty promises they were. Grace was intelligent, but molecular biology could only do so much. This ship had been destined to accomplish one hail mary and unfortunately it wasn’t the one that would save his life– or Simon’s now. 

Standing in front of the food storage cabinets, weighing a crinkling packet in his hands, Grace thought that maybe there was at least one thing he could successfully do. 

He found Simon where he always did, hunched over wires, fiddling away. Rocky in his environmental crystal dome next to him. They worked in a companionable silence and on more than one occasion Grace had considered whether Simon didn't prefer Rocky's company to Grace's own. The possibility always set off a strange twinge in his chest. 

With zero preamble, Grace asked, “Which one of us is more traumatized do you think?” 

Simon's fingers flexed over a pair of pliers and he stared up from the floor blankly at Grace. “I'm not answering that.”

Rocky, never one to stay out of a dialogue, added, “Grace ask dumb question, statement.”

Grace never should've started this conversation in front of the world's noisiest roommate. “Well I think it's probably you, Simon.” Simon frowned at him which Grace decided he better not let deter him at this point. He'd hate to humiliate himself for no reason. "I mean you were sent to the bottom of an ocean of blood.”

Simon’s cocked eyebrow conveyed his begrudging engagement with Grace’s latest attempt at small talk. "We were both sent on suicide missions, Grace. I'd say we both drew the short end.”

“Yeah, but I met a cool alien,” Grace pointed at Rocky who pranced in place with what Grace suspected was pride. "And you met one that tried to kill you sooo.” At least this much Grace had gotten Simon to divulge about what had happened to him before he'd appeared on their spaceship broken, bleeding, and belligerently panicked.

Simon stared at him with clear exasperation— a regular and understandable reaction when Grace started rambling. "What is your point with this?” He finally asked. 

Grace swallowed hard, suddenly worried that his point was very very stupid. "There's one last packet of ramen left and I want you to have it."

Simon blinked like a deer caught in headlights. Grace blinked like a deer hoping to soon be caught by the vehicle attached to those headlights so he wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

"And you thought convincing me I was the more traumatized one was the way to tell me this?" Simon clarified.

“Yes?" Grace sheepishly responded, trying to recall when exactly this plan had even formed. He doesn’t remember making a conscious decision to approach Simon in this ludicrous way. He remembered grabbing the ramen packet, thinking about how much Simon loved the crunch of the dried noodles– even though he’d never admit it– and deciding that he’d make sure Simon accepted his offering– one way or another. Apparently, Grace had chosen another, skipping straight past the reasonable way of just giving the ramen to Simon. 

"See, Grace dumb, Rocky said bad flirt." 

Simon stared up at Grace and Grace stared back, both of their skin flushing as the blood rushed up their necks and into their cheeks– mercifully inside their bodies although Grace thought vigorously bleeding from an open wound right now would be a pretty decent distraction from his embarrassment.

When did he ever tell Rocky that he wanted to flirt with Simon? Yes, admittedly, he’d asked Rocky very casually what flirting looked like between Erids and very briefly outlined some of his own past attempts, which Rocky had been unimpressed by. But he’d never once mentioned Simon’s name. And if his name just so happened to be lodged at the back of his mind while talking about human and Erid courtship customs, there was no way Rocky could know that! 

Rocky slid into his crystal ball– none the wiser that he’d just dropped a bomb aboard this delicately pressurized spacecraft– and merrily rolled away.

Grace realized he was still standing there, like an idiot, holding the package of ramen stretched out towards Simon. Before he could withdraw first the noodles and then himself– preferably into a storage cupboard for the remainder of his journey left to Erid– Simon’s calloused fingers closed over the package. The tip of his index finger brushed against Grace’s knuckle. 

Simon locked eyes with him for a moment, then looked away. Grace released his grip on the ramen. “Thanks for this,” Simon said, his voice gruff.