hey y'all

A bout of insanity. Jason considers fratricide for the sixth time within the last four hours as popcorn gets tossed across the living room, Titus’ delighted barking louder than the television. It’s made worse by the man of the house tucked awkwardly between him and the sofa end, Dick on his other side, and Jason huddled much more closely to the latter for obvious, unspoken reasons. He’d meant to sit on the floor so Damian could take his proper “blood son” seat next to Bruce, but Titus had refused to leave the armchair and so he’d relocated. Cass and Steph shared the other armchair, Tim and Duke draped on the floor, a bowl of already half-spilt popcorn between them.

Everyone’s talking, simultaneously as caught up in their own conversations as they are chucking popcorn in wide arcs into each other’s mouths. Jason knows it’s fine, the norm when it comes to movie nights, at least the few he’d bothered to come by before this one. It’s less about the movie and more about the tradition, the bonding of a fractured family taking a few hours’ time to reintroduce themselves to each other, finding safety in the cracks. He gets it, really. He even kind of likes it most days, though he’d rather be put back into the grave again than say it out loud.

But it was his turn to pick the film, and they’re finally about two minutes from the first meeting of Darcy and Elizabeth, and he’d really love it if everyone would just shut up for all of five minutes so he can rewatch the scene he had memorized since he was thirteen.

His knee bounces in irritation, just hard enough to shake the couch and subsequently, Dick. His brother shoots him an apologetic look at the noise to which Jason glares hard enough he hopes the sofa bursts into flames. It doesn’t, but it would have been cool.

“I can tell them to be quiet,” Dick says.

“With this family? You’d be better off shipping them to the circus.”

A smile crosses Dick’s face. “They’re even louder than a circus. I’d know.”

“You’re louder than a circus,” Jason rolls his eyes, but he takes the attempt at comfort for what it is, shifting in his seat enough to be pressed closer to Dick. He’s got his feet tucked against Dick’s leg, knee digging into his shoulder, but Dick doesn’t even seem to care. He probably likes it, the way he swings one arm around his legs like a weird half hug for his lower body.

It’s not horrible.

Something unreadable crosses Dick’s face before he squeezes Jason’s knee. It’s probably another attempt at comfort, but his thumb drags a little too quickly in the movement and Jason yelps. The room quiets.

Fuck.

His knee pulls inwards, flushing before he even meets the sudden mischievous twinkle in Dick’s eye. Some part of him, twelve and completely caught unawares, wants to curl up in a ball and hide. The other, nineteen and ruling the East side of Gotham, thinks about strategic retreat and desperately does not try to remember all the times running led to him being caught and curled up anyway. He inches backwards, aware of the press of decorative throw pillows at his side and the sudden attention of everyone in a room, a sheep caught before a pack of wolves.

“Little wing,” Dick coos. His hand follows Jason’s leg, sliding down to his ankle. It’s probably meant to be a comforting weight if not for how Dick’s grin widens to flash teeth. “I didn’t know you were still—”

“I’m not.” He must run or hide. There are a hundred rooms in this manor, but he’s up against Bats. There’s a hundred more miles on the manor grounds, but he’s up against the Bats. Jason squirms further back against the sofa, scooting awkwardly upwards when he hits a hard surface. It takes a minute to realize the hard surface is Bruce, and that by the time he realizes it he’s already halfway on his dad’s lap, leaning into a warm chest. While everyone else’s gaze has turned predatory, calculating, the weight of Bruce’s stare on his head doesn’t ring as dangerously as the others. He risks a glance backwards.

Bruce smiles down at him. It’s a perfect dad smile, small and fond, and Jason’s mind races because it’s the exact same smile Bruce used to have when ruffling his hair on ice cream trips on rooftops overseeing Gotham. It is also, unfortunately, the same smile Bruce had after driving him to mirthful tears in “post-patrol injury checks” that he’s nearly certain were just an excuse to torment him. He’s never really known how to respond when Bruce directs the full force of that smile on him.

Evidently, he still doesn’t.

Run or hide. Sheep or wolf.

“B,” Jason says. His voice tremors the slightest bit. “B, tell him I’m not.”

Bruce’s hands steady him, one on his shoulder, the other bracing his thigh. The one on his shoulder squeezes, comforting. Jason swallows.

“Jaylad,” Bruce starts. His smile doesn’t waver. Sheep, his mind begs. Sheep, hide, sheep! “Tell him you’re not what?”

A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Fucking hell.

Jason’s already throwing himself to the side before Bruce finishes the question, but the arm on his shoulder tugs him back too easily. He yelps, entirely unrelated to the squeeze of Bruce’s hand, and then Dick’s hands are pushing him down, trying to straddle his thighs.

“Fuck off!” Jason shouts, squirming enough to free his right hand. He throws a punch to Dick’s face and misses by a meter when Bruce’s hand jumps up to dig into his armpit. The noise that escapes him is embarrassing and he shoves a little desperately at Bruce’s hands when his voice grows high and squeaky with every tweak of fingers on squishy, sensitive flesh. “Wait, wait, Dickhead, don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Dick asks, and he’s not even trying to hide the sappiness of his smile anymore. Jason gets a faceful of the whole smiley Grayson experience, all soft and big brotherly, and he’d maybe appreciate it more if it didn’t also come with Dick lightly drumming his fingers over his stomach. One gets too close to his navel and Jason flinches, feeling his mouth grow into a grin against his permission.

“Go on, Jay,” Bruce says. He’s got Jason pinned easily, one arm tucked under his knee and the other caught in his hand slowly being moved into the same trap. He swallows as Bruce leans over, coaxing. “Answer your brother.”

He’d rather die, thanks.

Jason bites his lip, looking back at Dick but meets Steph’s eyes instead. Everyone’s eyes are on him, the movie completely forgotten though it drones on, enraptured instead by this new, humiliating entertainment. His face burns when his eyes slide over Cass’ knowing eyes, Tim’s scheming one, flashing back to just two hours ago when he’d pinned Tim down over a stupid argument on the mats and left his little brother in ticklish tears. He’d only made it this far with his secret safe because no one even bothered to assume the one guy tall and heavy enough to challenge Batman could possibly be ticklish. He’d managed to artfully escape Dick every time he was in the mood, sacrificing Duke or Damian or one of the other little bats instead to so-called big brotherly duties. Bruce didn’t even try, too awkward about pushing boundaries and then bulldozing through them anyway, leaving them in a cycle that was accommodated with more screaming matches than light-hearted play fights.

The agreement to movie night, to put on Jason’s favorite film, apparently meant more than he realized.

“Don’t touch me.” He tries to snap, failing when Dick ghosts over his hip and he chokes on his words. “Dickface, don’t you dare. Don’t you—!”

His teeth click as Bruce’s hands move again, pinching along his ribs as Dick’s rises to tease his waist. There’s mercy in their movements in that it’s not his worst spots, yet not at all because it’s a warning that they intend to draw this torment out.

“Aw, Jay,” Dick teases, almost fond, before digging his fingers in a little harder to be the rotten menace Jason always insisted he was, Nightwing’s golden reputation be damned. He chokes like a dying fish. “What’s wrong? You’re not watching the movie anymore?”

“No one’s w-watching.” The stutter is too obvious and he can tell from the way matching fondness seeps into Bruce’s expression that he’s smiling, even as heat continues to crawl up his cheeks. “You’re both distrahahacting me!”

Steph’s whisper is too loud. “Oh my god, he giggles.”

Death. Death for himself and every single person in this room, sans Titus.

A litany of curses swim in his head when Bruce manages to wrangle both his hands and Dick dives for his exposed armpits like a heathen. Jason clenches his jaw shut for all of three seconds before breaking into giddy laughter, twisting to either side in a pitiful attempt to escape Dick’s evil fingers.

“I can’t believe this. Chat, is this real?” Tim’s voice floats over, vaguely awed, vaguely vindictive. Jason would’ve liked to snap at him if it weren’t for Dick, the bastard, dancing his hands back down to his ribs and then back up again around his shoulders. He settles for flipping him off with a trapped hand.

“Fuhahahack off!”

“Wow, real rude for someone so ticklish.”

It’s somehow worse hearing Tim call him that, of all people. Fifteen minutes ago, he would’ve pulled Tim to the floor midway through his sentence and made a spectacle of his little brother. Hell—he could’ve easily pulled Steph and Dick in to help him at minimum. Of course, fifteen minutes ago he wasn’t screeching with laughter in front of his entire family.

“Oh chat, you have no idea how real this is. Jason used to shriek so loudly,” Dick teases, tossing his head back with a wink. From the barely disguised wide-eyed awe on everyone’s faces, it’s evident that of all routes they expected movie night to go that this didn’t make it to any of their contingencies. It would be hilarious if literally anyone else was in Jason’s position. “It looks like he still does, don’t you, little wing?”

Jason’s jaws snap, trying in vain to bite Dick’s hands off, even as Dick only huffs when he scratches alongside Jason’s upper back to obliterate the last of his reputation. He jolts at the sudden attack on (one of many of) his weak spot, voice jumping an octave when he shrieks just like Dick predicted.

“D-Dihihick! Dick, wahahahait!”

“Aw, Jay, of course.” Dick croons sweetly and if that doesn’t set alarm bells off in Jason’s head nothing would. He squirms back on instinct even though all it does is make Dick’s fingers dig in harder to his back, swerving fruitlessly to burrow himself in Bruce’s hold. “I’ll wait… for you tell me where you want me to tickle you next.”

“What?”

“Ooh, evil.”

“Shuhuhut up in thehehee peanut gallery!”

He’s going to have to kill someone for this. He’s got to be as red as his helmet by now; he was always obvious as a kid, giggly and red-faced from maybe two minutes of Dick’s big-brotherly nonsense, and the reality of him being in the same position now years later made something in him flutter obnoxiously. It doesn’t help that Bruce is not so subtly looming over, eyes soft in that gushy dad way, and all Jason wants to do is bury his face into the folds of his sweater to avoid shrinking under the warmth of that gaze.

“Don’t be mean to your siblings,” Bruce says. He shifts Jason’s weakened wrists to one grip, his now freed hand crawling down teasingly as it flutters around Jason’s ears and neck to make him giggle uncontrollably. Between Bruce’s slow, almost gentle tease and Dick’s pinpoint accurate clawing against his shoulders, he’s got basically no defenses. At best, Jason manages to kick out his feet, jostling absolutely no one into giving him mercy.

“I—I’m—thehehey’re the ones beheheing meahahahen to me!”

There’s a chorus of chuckles at him around the room and Jason burrows himself against Bruce’s sweater instinctively. The coo that follows is definitely Dick and Bruce’s hand pauses just long enough to brush out the sweaty hair from his face, forcing Jason to blink up through blurry eyes.

Bruce is still smiling at him. For absolutely no reason at all, Jason’s heart flips.

“Well, kiddo? What are you feeling?”

“Yeah, Jay,” Dick interrupts, “where’d you want us to tickle you again?”

Fuck, they’re so evil. Forget Batman and Nightwing, allies of the Justice League—as far as Jason’s aware, they should’ve been thrown in with the Legion of Doom since he was twelve.

His skin crawls with anticipation as Jason squeezes his eyes shut to avoid catching anyone’s gazes in the room. “Just get it over with already!”

“I thought you wanted us to wait?” Dick mock gasps, drumming his fingers back around to his sides. Jason bucks against him, trying and failing to remove him, and Dick barks out a laugh. “You gotta make up your mind buddy, or I’ll just have to stay here forever. Unless that’s what you wanted?”

Yeah, no thanks. Between feeling his mind melt away via giggles or shrieking laughter, it didn’t feel like he had a choice either way. The thought of calling for help passed as quickly as it came; knowing these people, the only “help” he’d be getting would be more hands on him.

“I cahahan’t—you—youhuhEHE B NAHAHA!”

Jason jolts with a scream as Bruce scribbles his fingers downwards suddenly, darting between his spine and the small of his back. It’s like every single nerve along his spine has been suddenly jumpstarted into being so stupidly fucking ticklish; the sensation is made worse at the unbidden memory of his dad doing almost this exact move in this very couch years ago. He can’t possibly get any redder than he already is and yet Jason swears on his life that his face burns even brighter as he shakes his head. “JUST DO IT!”

Dick hums. “Do what?”

“I FUCKING HAHATEHEE YOU!”

“And I love you.” Dick smooches his cheek despite his glare. It’s not very effective through watery tears and he knows it from Dick’s peachy smile as he retreats, scotting further back on Jason’s legs for better leverage. Bruce stills, placing his hand on Jason’s waist. “But that doesn’t help clarify what you want me to do…?”

God, they’re really going to do this. Just sit here and torment him in front of Gotham’s best so-called heroes when all he did was sign up for some peaceful, torment-free movie night bonding.

Jason takes in hasty gulps of air while he still can. He’s certain he looks ridiculous, red-faced with wet eyes and a childish grin stretched across his face, but he doesn’t try to flee even though no one’s holding onto him anymore. His self-preservation instincts must have been successfully tickled out of him because all he really wants to do, all he does, is roll his head back to peer up at Bruce with his best puppy eyes. “Dad, please.”

Instead of answering with words, four hands make their way to his hips. It’s absolutely evil, and awful, and he’s certain his mind blanks for a moment before shrill, shrieking laughter leaves him breathless. Jason jolts to life as he thrashes, freed hands pushing frantically at the fingers determined to destroy him, and he manages to tuck his head down and make a semi-curled defensive position that really doesn’t hide him at all. Dick laughs overhead, one hand crawling from his hip to scribble over his exposed back, and Jason whines through his laughter at the dual sensations.

He can’t even remember the last time he’d been ticked like this. When he was a kid, for sure, but when? Usually it was just the one or the other, and if it was both Bruce never let Dick torment him for too long before scooping up both his kids, one on each hand, and heading off either to the cave or to bed. He’d never paid much attention to the specifics, not when he was busy laughing his head off, and even now he struggles to note whose hand is where considering he’s a little busy trying to melt into a puddle.

“N-Nahaha moooreehHEHE!”

“What’s that? More?”

Maybe if he curled up tight enough, he could find a mini pocket dimension to hide in. As-is, Jason settles for batting at the hands still tormenting him. He can hardly think, mind a haze of tingling sensation, and he hardly even notices how Dick moves from straddling his thighs to lying on his side allowing Jason to settle into his side, completely curled up. When he was younger, they used to tease him and call him—

“Is that my favorite pillbug? I think it is!”

God. He buries his face into his hands, consciousness emerging warily as his shrieks peter off into hiccupping giggles when the hands still on him slow to a gentle drumming. It’s one set of hands instead of two now, and he blinks tears out of his eyes when a hand ruffles his hair, nudging into it instinctively. He can hear cooing on the other side of the room.

“Think he’s had enough, chum.”

“Aw, but he’s so cute like this!”

“Am not.” Jason manages a feeble defense. He feels exhausted, like he ran a marathon and fought killer croc one-handed at the same time. Bruce’s hand, steady as it sorts out the tangles in his hair, is unfairly soothing as the last of his laughter leaves him.

“Yes, you are.” Jason blinks as Cass emerges from the sofa’s side, cold water pressed against his face. Jason blinks his eyes (when did he close them?) up at her, shooting Dick a warning glare before taking it and draining half the refreshing glass. She steadies it with one hand, taking it away with a self-satisfied smile. “Very cute.”

He’d flip her off if it were anyone else. Her smile grows wider, and he lets her get away with her own ruffle of his hair. He must look like more of a mess than he imagined because she only seems to get happier with the action.

“How very childish,” Damian scoffs, like he hasn’t been staring the entire time, just as enraptured as the rest of the flock. “I can only wonder how Todd manages to become more pathetic by day.”

“Didn’t Dick get you literally yesterday.”

“Cease and desist your existence, Drake.”

Tim throws his hands up in resignation as Duke giggles, high-fiving Damian in gleeful recognition of their unofficial gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss-Tim agenda. Steph, always brilliant and unafraid to cross boundaries, waltzes up to where Jason’s still sprawled against Bruce’s shoulder to poke him in the cheek. “Still alive, dead robin? Or do we have to bury you and wait six to twelve months again?”

“Shut up, dead robin.” He groans, awareness of the room coming back to him steadily as he manages to pick himself warily up from the comfort of Bruce’s sweater. Now that he’s no longer being tormented or made the spectacle of their night entertainment, nothing’s stopping him from leaving. Jason could just pack up, declare them all menaces, and waltz out the front door.

He sits himself upwards properly where Dick’s soft smile meets him, nudging his shoulder playfully. If he focuses, he can pinpoint a memory of five years ago, the first-time hearing what he’d yet to know would become his favorite film through a billionaire’s sound system. Back before he’d become comfortable enough to ask Bruce to replay it, and then again, and then pulling Dick with him to the living room and begging him to stay just the night. He’d even convinced Alfred to join them, and the night had been filled with Greer Garson’s Elizabeth and the lazy snoring of the people he’d come to love.

He wants to hear it again.

Jason resigns himself to being swaddled between the two for the rest of the night. Through lazy eyes, he sighs and sinks back into Bruce’s arms. “Rewind until the ball. And everyone—pay attention this time.”

“Sir yes sir!” Steph chirps before retreating to her perch with Cass. They rearrange themselves, rewinding back to the peace of the night before Jason became their personal entertainment, chatter softer than before but just as intimate. Comfortable. Someone presses play, and the opening music fills the room. Someone is still talking over it. He finds he doesn’t mind as much as before. Funny, how that works.

His eyes flutter despite themselves, tired and content and warm. The hand that’s been carding through his hair pauses to nudge his cheek. “Go to sleep, Jaylad.”

“They haven’t danced yet.”

Bruce’s lip touches his forehead. Unfair. “We can watch it again next week.”

They can. They did, before. They could bring the whole extended batfamily here, Kate and Luke and Batcow, and introduce them to the glory that is proper adaptations. He thinks he says something in response, blurry and meek. Whatever it is, Bruce’s body rumbles with fond laughter, and the last thing he remembers before sleep claims him is Bruce saying something vaguely like home.

The turns were tight, the pathways cramped, but that’s where Dick’s small size did provide an advantage. Get the eyes off him, then find a proper place to hide. Just like he’d been taught. After winding through several nooks and crevices, Dick finally slowed to a stop in a little alcove bracketed by corals of vibrant reds and oranges. The red and yellow of his tail would blend nicely, here — the green, not so much. He’d just have to hope it looked like algae at a distance, a simple part of the ecosystem from any hunters swimming above. His gills fluttered down the column of his neck, but he forced his breathing steady. Moments later, a black blur shot past his hiding place. Dick resisted the urge to flinch away or duck down; the movement would only catch a hunter’s eye and give him away.

Heart pounding, Dick counted the seconds. Every little movement set him on edge, from the idle sway of nearby seaweed to fish darting past. Eventually, his coiled muscles started to relax. Was he successful? Did he evade his pursuer? The black scales would’ve  starkly stood out in such a colorful reef, and he hadn’t felt the subtle currents of something large moving through the water in several minutes. Slowly, Dick started creeping out of his hiding spot, making sure to check above him. The coast was clear, but only for now. All he had to do was get back to the pod’s cavern and—

Large hands snapped around Dick’s waist, digging in before he could even react. A shriek tore from his throat, making room for his heart to settle there instead. He thrashed his tail, wrenched at the arms of his captor, but to no avail. Even as the fingers kept probing, the hands reeled him back against a broad chest. Startled speechless with no chance to brace himself, Dick was helpless to succumb to his laughter. His captor’s chest rumbled with its own fond chuckle.

“Caught you, little fishie,” Bruce hummed. 

Dick chittered in protest, but before he could remind Bruce that he was not a guppy, thank you very much, Bruce’s fingers launched upward and buried themselves in his armpits. Dick’s laughter jumped again, interspersed with screechy yelps. His gills flapped against his neck as they tried to keep up.

“Now, where did you go wrong, chum?” 

Dick shook his head, turning to look at Bruce over his shoulder. “I didn’t! You’re just a cheat!”

“Oh? And how would I do that? I can’t sniff you out Dickie, I’m not a shark.”

“I dunno! You just— did!”

Bruce hummed, pausing his attack. Dick sagged in his arms, twitching as the idle currents of the water jostled him against Bruce’s still fingers. He couldn’t help the nervous chitters that escaped him, nor the flush that crawled up his face as Bruce’s mouth ticked up into a smirk from the sound.

“You know what? You may be right.”

Dick twisted around even more, narrowing his eyes up at Bruce. He knew Bruce had to have cheated! He’d been hidden so well. There was no way—

“Let’s see.” Bruce hauled Dick up even closer, tucking his nose close to Dick’s neck. He took a long sniff.

Oh. Oh, no.

“You’re onto something there, chum. Looks like I can sniff things out like a shark — but you know what I smell instead of blood?”

Dick bit his lip, squirming in Bruce’s arms. “What?”

Bruce inched his face closer and murmured, “Ticklish little fish.” He gave a menacing growl, fully burying his face in the crook of Dick’s neck. “And I’m hungry.”

Dick squealed as Bruce nuzzled in. Bruce’s growling vibrated into the sensitive skin of Dick’s neck, even as his stubble caught on the seams of his now-sealed gills with every movement. When he brought his sharp teeth into the mix, nipping at the skin as if he were eating Dick and making ridiculous “om-nom-nom” noises, Dick was lost. His giggles were frantic and squeaky and panicked, and he was dizzy with how giddy and bubbly he felt. While his neck wasn’t one of his worst spots, Bruce’s proximity and teasing never failed to make him feel like he was buzzing out of his own skin. It was like it made everything nelse feel more ticklish.

Which was a problem when Bruce brought his hands back into the mix, skittering and squeezing up and down Dick’s sides. He rocketed into belly laughter, tugging at Bruce’s wrists and trying to force Bruce out of his neck with his head and shoulder. When none of that worked, he resorted to beating his tail backwards against Bruce’s own.

“Oh, really? You sure you wanna do that?” 

Dick threw his tail back particularly hard, just to be a menace. 

Bruce hummed into his neck, drawing out one last squeal, before Dick was suddenly released and the world went spinning. He yelped, trying to get his bearings. Before he could, he felt Bruce’s hands lock on to the base of his tail, just above his fins. 

Dick sucked in a giddy breath. “Bruce, wait!”

Bruce did not wait. He squeezed up and down the muscles beneath Dick’s scales with one hand, using the other to keep his grip. Dick burst into cackles, twisting up his tail to try and dislodge Bruce or pull his hands away or something. In response, Bruce started swimming backwards. Not quickly, but enough that the drag of water pulled Dick taut and kept him stuck there, since all his laughter and squirming had left him feeling like his muscles were made of jellyfish.

He snorted when Bruce squeezed at the lower half of his tail, snickering and wiggling as much as he could. The upper half of his tail, though? Dick thought he might lose his mind. His scales provided no protection, the ticklish sparks digging so deep that it felt as though his entire nervous system was lighting up with them. He couldn’t speak or bargain or free himself, all Dick could do was laugh himself silly while Bruce the Tickle-Shark tickled all the giggles out of him.

He’d never say it to Bruce’s face, but this was his favorite part of training. 

Eventually, Dick’s laughter went silent, and Bruce had mercy. He stopped swimming and hauled Dick up into his arms, chuckling as Dick hiccuped out residual giggles and giddy chitters. After a few minutes, Dick heaved a sigh and snuggled deeper into Bruce’s hold, clicking at him with contentment. Bruce clicked back.

“Back with me, chum?”

“Mhm.” Dick nodded, stretching out his tail and back as best he could without shifting out of Bruce’s arms.

“Alright. Same rules as before: stealth, speed, and agility to get back to the cave, don’t let me catch you. This time, don’t only look up before trying to sneak away. You have a five second headstart.”

Dick gaped up at Bruce. He raised an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth twitching like he was hiding a smile. “Five, four—“

“Oh–yeah, yes. You're good, Simon.” I chuckle, glancing in his direction. “You going to be okay?” 

“Yeah. It's been nice, actually. Relaxing.” After everything he's gone through, well, the little bit he's allowed me to know, baths are a pretty touchy subject. Said he couldn't stand the feeling of water around him, being engulfed by it.

When he first boarded the Hail Mary around 5 to 6 months ago, he didn't shower at all, much to my nose's dismay. The one and only bath he had was his first night here while he was unconscious and Armondo took care of it after my EVA to his ship. Submarine? Vessel. I pretty much conked out the moment I got him inside and stable. Let me tell you, Simon needed that bath.

He was covered head to toe in blood. Not splatters, like he got into a fight, like he decided to swim in a pool full of it and soaked for a few hours. Armondo/Mary had nothing to report when I woke up so I assume it went okay.

Slowly he warmed up to at least sponge baths, though he would take a much longer time than you would think to be open to showers. He said he preferred the sponge bath, and I didn't argue, but around a month ago, he took his first bath. 

Although he was clearly nervous and I offered to be there to help, he completely refused. I was a little surprised. He isn't a fan of physical touch, though I selfishly hope that changes; he never seemed to mind too much with me seeing him shirtless. 

N-NOT that I was looking or anything anyway!

"I'm glad you like it.” I push my glasses back up my nose with a smile. “I might go to take a nap—”

“Yes. Grace been awake for 66,823 seconds. Should sleep." Rocky butts in. I just roll my eyes in response. 

He stares for a second with a look I can't quite read and turns, abruptly heading to the dormitory without another word. Weird.

I gather my stuff up and start putting it away and I start to feel those 18+ hours of doing nothing but work catch up with me. My eyes become heavy as I sluggishly put the rest of my equipment away. I feel terrible.

“Should have slept sooner. Rocky tell and tell Grace but Grace no listen. Stubborn.” He trills from his nearby spot on the floor, gathering his own tinkering tools to follow me. He's the last alien who should be talking about being stubborn; he's just as bad, if not worse.

“Yeah yeah.” I wave him off, and he huffs a low note in response, making me giggle. "I'm totally fine, Rocky. Don't worry so much.” A yawn slips through my words, making him tap a claw against the floor.

“Would not worry if Grace listen.” I guess he has a point but theres so much to do. I start my way to the dorm as well, with Rocky clinking behind me, yawning again. We enter the dorm and see the bathroom door shut; I'm assuming Simon is already in there. 

“Are you staying in your suit to watch?” I ask Rock, pulling off my shirt. I throw it to the floor and start to untie my jumpsuit. Although he'll still watch from his side of the Xenonite barrier from time to time, after making his new tighter suit, he stays on our side as much as he can and im not going to complain.

“Yes. Was…hoping Grace Rocky cuddle.” His claws come together and fidget in a way I know is nervousness. He shifts towards the bed slightly as I put on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Not sure why he's so worried; I don't think I've ever told him no to cuddles before bed.

“I would love to." He gets up on the bed and chirps excitedly, which makes me smile. 

I hear the water start to run from the bath as I walk over to Rocky. I slip under the covers, holding it up so Rocky can as well. He pushes himself into my chest and the warmth of him travels through my body, pulling me closer to sleep. He wraps three arms around my middle, pushing them under my arms and his claws settle on my back. A fourth claw comes up and plucks my glasses from my nose. 

“Grace need to stop sleeping with eye aid on. Will break or damage.” Ignoring his lecture, I respond by pressing my face closer to him. A soft hum comes from him, vibrating my chest, and I feel my eyes start to weigh while Rocky softly rubs up my spine. The sound of the water from the bath lulling me to sleep—

*BANG*

I startle upwards, well, halfway, with Rocky's weight still around me. My eyes fly to the door of the bathroom and I hear Simon let out a soft groan of pain and some more bangs as what I assume is the shampoo and other products fall to the floor as well.

“Oh fudge!” I push at Rocky, adrenaline from the loud noise scaring me, making me shake slightly as I reach for my glasses. I scramble to get off the bed but Rocky catches my arm. 

“Uh. Rocky go check. Rocky check on Simon.” I pause, listening to the tone of his chords, which sounds anxious but not for Simon. Almost nervous and pleading. “Grace lay down. Go to sleep. Rocky check.” he assures rather insistently again.

“No, I wanna go check too! That was very loud; he could be really hurt!” I shove him off and quickly head towards the door but Rocky tries to block my way.

“Not necessary if Rocky check.” Rocky argues as I try and walk around him but he only slides over, stopping me again. What is with him? He's never acted like this before. 

After moving side to side a few more times and being blocked, I call out instead. “SIMON! A-ARE YOU OKAY—!” I wait a moment and don't get a response, making me panic more.

What if he fell and broke something or has a concussion? What would happen if he fractured his skull?! A million thoughts of the worst-case scenario race through my mind.

I manage to slip past Rocky as he misses his catch on my arm. As I wrap my hand around the handle, he calls out finally.

“YES. I-IM FINE. DON’T COME—” I push open the door and my eyes meet his. "...in…shit." 

I stare, slack-jawed, at Simon, looking his body up and down. 

“Apology Simon. Rocky try. Grace more ‘slippery’ than first thought.” Rocky bumps past me, pulling me from my trance. 

“Uhh—um wha-what—” Words attempt to get out of my mouth. My hand drops from the door in shock. Maybe I'm still asleep—dreaming! That must be it.

"It's fine, Rock. My fault. I slipped inside the tub first.” He sighs, a nervous look taking over his face. ”God, I wish that door had a lock on it.” 

My brain refuses to process what I'm looking at. Simon. Definitely Simon. Same wavy hair, same scars, same stoic face but… he's got this long, fish-like tail that’s spilling over the side of the tub onto the floor. Fins sprout from where his ears should be on both sides, not just the left like normal, and lord, the teeth. There is a giant section of the tail lined with huge teeth, similar to the ones on the side of his face, with others littered around his body.

“Oh gosh…” That's all that manages to get past my lips. 

His eyes flick to me, wide with worry as I stand there absolutely flabbergasted. I try to smile in response while looking him and this new body up and down again. He is larger now too. Not like muscles but like someone scaled him up bigger.

“Simon okay, question?” Rocky asks as he comes back to me, pulling me away from my spot at the door and closer to Simon. I let him guide me closer as I stare, not knowing what else to do or say.

“Yeah, but I'm stuck.” His reply comes out a little flustered. “Can I get some help?”

The Hail Mary has a small tub, not very comfortable but it does what it needs to. It’s rather shallow and I can’t fully extend my legs if my torso is under the water. This wouldn't really be a problem; uncomfortable, yes, but no one would get stuck. As I look more, his shoulders are wedged in the tub while he's almost flat on his back, just enough to see his face peeking up. That’s how much bigger Simon seemed to have gotten. His arm is stuck pressed out in front of him in an awkward position.

“Y-yeah! I can help!” I eagerly move closer, staring deep into his eyes. The one on his left side was always mutated to a light red color but now his irises are now slits, like a cat's. 

I kick into the end of his tail, half-stepping on it, while not paying too much attention and taking in the details of the changes in his eyes. In response, he lets out a soft growl. My eyes run down his face and he’s got his teeth slightly bared at me.

I freeze, holding up my hands defensively. “Whao. Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to!" My eyes look to the floor, side-step my feet away from the new appendage but don’t move any further. After a moment, I fling my head to him, the sounds finally registering in my mind,

“You growl?! You actually growl!”

“...”

“That came from your chest! That's so cool. Can you do it again?” Excitement and awe coursing through my body.

"Definitely not." I had no idea that he could growl—a full animalistic sound rather than a human mimicking an animal.

I watch as his eyes flick to the end part of his tail, fins splayed across the floor while frowning. Oh. I wonder if he didn’t want me near it. I should have asked. Crap, I didn't even ask if he was okay! Nice going, Ryalnd. Worst roommate ever.

He lets out a huff, eyeing me, and I take that as my sign to keep going. I stop at the tub, and he looks up at me, frowning. “Um. Here." My hand reaches out, letting him choose when he wants to take it. 

Simon hesitates for only a second before taking my hand. His grip is careful, like hes worried Id break.

A gasp escapes me at how much bigger his is than mine now, with large claws at the ends. Before I can stop myself, my other hand reaches out as I rotate his in my own. His pinky, ring, and middle finger have webbing between them, leaving his pointer and thumb free. I lightly trace the translucent skin, making goosebumps visibly run up his arm.

“Holy crap, that’s awesome...” I mumble, pressing a fingertip into one of his nails. Not as sharp as they seem, more bulky than thin and sharp.

“...done?” A low groan comes from him and I snap back into reality. 

“O-oh sorry!” Anxious laughter comes from me, and I start to pull and my gosh, is he a LOT heavier too. I grunt, trying to pull him up by leveraging myself against the tub, but he doesn't budge. 

Rocky scuttles over, climbing onto the edge and swatting my hand away.

“Grace weak. Rocky do it.” Wow, thanks, Rock.

Simon shifts his hand over to Rocky, holding it out flat. He places two of his much smaller claws into his palm and Simon gently closes around them. Rocky pulls hard and Simon is suddenly unstuck and upright. Rocky seems to perch himself on the counter that’s on the other end of the tub, carefully observing. I can tell he’s nervous and doesn’t know what to do.

I lean over and turn off the water that was dangerously close to overflowing all of their floor. My eyes glance down and see the teeth running up the front of him. I lean over the tub more, squinting my eyes to try and see clearly through the water. Is it a mouth? Or are they just teeth like the ones on his arm? I stop myself from reaching down into the water to check, even though I very much want to, and look back over at Simon, who now has a growing blush across his face, his arm crossing over his torso, shielding himself.

Oh my gosh, I’m being a creep!

Frantically, I push myself away and sit on the floor, leaning against the tub. I mutter a sorry as my own blush creeps up my neck. He lets out a sigh, and the water splashes slightly. I sneak a glance and he’s lowered himself into the water more, eyes closing. 

I’m shocked he hasn’t tried to explain any of this. And what the heck? Rocky knew before I did AND kept it a secret from me?! Some best friend he is.

My eyes wander over to his tail and it looks amazing, beautiful even. Its overall shape reminds me of an eel. With the way it’s draped over, it seems more flexible than a whale or shark. 

The end looks like what you would imagine a mermaid's tail to look like out of a storybook, though the one half looks destroyed. Holes and gashes cut through the membrane; I grimace slightly at the sight.

Without thinking, I slowly crawl over to the end. The fin on his left looks torn through, holes littering the flesh. Movement catches my eye and I glance over and see him staring me down and I let out a little squeak.

“Uhm…does it hurt? C-can I touch it—you can always tell me to stop!” I try to convince him, maybe a bit too desperately. I hear Rocky make an annoyed noise, definitely directed at me for my question. I can’t help it; he's fascinating. Any scientist would want a closer look!

“You ask now after you were already leaning over the tub, staring at my body?” His tone is a little teasy, making me flush slightly and stay silent. I don't deny anything and he seems to smirk a little more, then frowns again. 

Simon looks from Rocky to me as I give my best puppy eyes to him. He lets out a loud sigh and looks away.

“Fine, yes. Be gentle or you're done.” Done with what? I’m not sure. Maybe it has to do with my touch or my life. Hard to tell with him sometimes. "You were gonna do it anyway.”

“I absolutely was not!” He stares with a deadpan look and if Rocky had a face, I think he would be too. “N-Not without your permission…at least.”

I feel around the broken ridge and he flinches but doesn’t say anything. I follow the split and torn flesh down in swoops until I reach unharmed parts. I pinch at it, rubbing it between my fingers. I glide my fingertips to one of the holes, feeling the frayed texture. I frown.

“Is this why you didn’t want to take a bath for the longest time?” I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. I absentmindedly start rubbing little circles into his fins and I swear I see him relax slightly. 

“Yeah.” He continues to avoid eye contact. “I wanted to tell you, I swear. I just—how the fuck do I explain this to someone?” He looks worried and scared again, his hand coming up to grasp at his cheek.

“You have a point.” If he came up to me and said, ‘Hey, yeah, thanks for saving me and all. Oh, also, I turn into some sort of mutant fish monster when wet. Well, okay, see you later for dinner.’ I’m not sure I would have believed him either.

“But you told Rocky?!” I gesture to him, still perched on the counter. He lets an amused trill escape at my jealousy. “You didn't even like him at first!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? The alien can see through walls, Ryland, and you were the one who kept pushing me to take a shower!” he argues, pointing at me.

"Yeah, because you stank up the entire ship with your B.O.!" 

He mumbles something while looking away, and I feel the end of his tail flick slightly against my hand. “I was still taking the fucking sponge baths," he murmurs, frowning more.

“Rocky promise to keep Simon secret from Grace. Until Simon ready.” Rocky explains, his claws fidgeting together again. Ugh, he feels guilty, and he shouldn't; he was being nice and keeping a secret from me for Simon. I should be happy they trusted each other so much.

I lower my tone. “Why couldn't you just tell me when Rocky found out?” I question, looking back down at his tail, my eyebrows furrowed as I look harder at the damage and structure.

“Because you would look at me like…that.” My eyes find Simon’s again and I raise an eyebrow.

“Like what?” 

"Like…I'm some specimen to dissect. I knew you would find this exciting, and I was a little worried about what that would look like for me.” He rubs the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably in the small tub. “And, shit, if you were scared instead, I was worried you'd shoot me out the airlock.”

I purse my lips. Did I really look like I was going to dissect him? His belief that I would harm or pick him apart hurt more than I expected. I really thought we had grown to trust each other more.

“I-I would never do something you wouldn't want to do. Sure, I’d love to run tests and study you, but if it made you uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have Simon. Did…did you really think I would hurt you?” He stares for a moment, then looks away, guilt flooding his face.

“Stop looking at me like that. I've never met someone like you, Ryland. I'm used to people acting like shit and doing terrible things. It's hard for me...and I was—am—just as scared of myself too. Shit, I didn't feel human anymore.” And he's right. I shouldn't assume he would trust me right away. Rocky and I were probably pretty stupid to trust each other so easily; we should have been more cautious, but I can't just will Simon to trust me. Of course, he would assume someone would do the worst.

"It's okay. I understand but uh, how did you hurt your back fin here?” A frown comes to my face as I feel around the membrane more.

“I-I can’t remember much after I sent out my distress signal. I don’t know.” I look back at his face sympathetically. I can't even imagine what he went through.

“So, water causes it?” I gnaw at my lip while thinking, tilting my head to the side.

“And blood. It seems when my gills get wet enough, it triggers some sort of growth to start happening. It's quick too, taking only about 30 seconds, if that.” I hum in thought for a moment. "That's how I got stuck. I usually lower myself in slowly and trigger the mutation then raise myself back up so it doesn't start while I'm fully in the tub but my fuckin hand slipped and I fell in.” 

“Wait, when Rocky and I found you, you were soaked, and you didn’t look like this.” I frown a little, pointing to his tail.

“I don’t know.” He half-heartedly shrugs. Not helpful at all.

“Rocky have theory.” I swivel my head to him. “Tissue growth need energy to happen. Simon starving when found. Severe dehydration. Could turn back ‘normal’ when out of resources.” 

“Okay that could be it. But your timeline still doesn’t work. You're lying about something, Si. You said you didn't remember but this whole time you knew if you took a bath, this would happen.” He looks away with a blank face and stays silent.

After a moment, Rocky perks up. “Simon awake for Armondo bath, question?” Oh crap, I knew I should have stayed up that night! By that point he was on IV fluids and a feeding tube, so he definitely had the resources to mutate.

“Yeah. I kinda freaked out. You know, waking up after everything and then looking down and seeing your legs replaced with a giant fucking fish tail while sitting in a little ass tub with a massive robot with multiple arms was NOT fun.” I let out a snort while a soft smile came to Simon's face. “Armondo gave me some really fuckin good drugs, though, and I fell asleep at some point again. I actually kinda thought Rocky already knew at that point since he could see through walls.” 

“No,” I shake my head. “Your EVA and rescue kept both of us up. He pushed his sleep back. The EVA alone was around 10 hours of just trying to get the stupid vessel open. It was one of the only times me and Rocky slept together at the same time with no one to watch. We both were just so exhausted, staying up and figuring out how to get you.”

“Could not function anymore.” Rocky adds, a low tone to his trill. He slept in his suit right up next to me. If something were to happen, we both hoped I would wake and make sure everything was okay while Rocky was out of commission.

“Sorry.” A guilty look takes over his features again, making me feel awful. He shouldn’t feel guilty about surviving. It makes me almost frustrated in a way. Like our time and resources could have been used for greater and better things. I want him to feel like he is that great and better thing while on the Hail Mary.

“Haha don’t be. I would have done the whole thing all over again for you.” A baffled and slightly flustered look crosses Simons face and then I realize what I said. I feel my own face heat up a little and look away, sputtering over more reassurances. Real smooth Ryland.

I know we haven’t known each other long but I’ve grown very fond of him. Sure, he isn’t an open book but he makes these little comments. I don’t even know if he’s trying to be funny but it always seems to make me laugh. He can be so caring too; it’s just not as obvious. He leaves blankets near me when I absentmindedly complain I'm cold. Like I'm supposed to think they appeared there by themselves. He tries to be subtle, though he's not that great at it. He gives me hope for the rest of this three-year journey. 

He starts again. “That…sounds not very smart, especially for you guys. You took some random guy from a blood ocean and left him alone while you two slept?” His eyebrows knit together as he pushes wet hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, we were both so sleep-deprived that I’m not sure either of us could have done much anyway. Also, I had full faith in Mary and Armondo to keep you in check. I mean, they clearly did if you freaked out and then immediately drugged you.” Simon glances over to Armondo with a frown.

I move my hand up, starting to feel around the end of his actual tail, the meaty part.

“I guess—AH!” He jolts upwards at the touch. I recoil quickly, scooting back slightly.

“Fudge! Are you okay? Are you hurt there?” I frantically look at the area, though keeping my hands to myself but I get no answer.

“Simon heart rate elevated.” Rocky observes, tapping a claw slightly.

I meet his eyes and his face is starting to flush. “N-no. Just sensitive.” 

“Sensitive…how?” I raise an eyebrow, slowly inching a finger to the spot again. 

I observe his reaction. He starts to squirm, eyeing my descending hand carefully from across the room.

“…just sensitive.” He frowns, looking away, embarrassed for some reason. I take the chance to lightly pinch at the flesh there.

He lets out a squeak and slaps his hand over his mouth. So I of course do it again, pinching and prodding around the fleshy end. He arches up and his tail starts to wiggle slightly.

“Ohoohoo someone’s ticklish?” I tease and pull the end of his tail into my lap, using both hands to feel around. He shakes his head ‘no’ desperately. 

The skin is very smooth. He doesn’t have scales like a normal fish, even though his tail fin is more fish than eel. It’s kind of slippery but not wet; I’m assuming some sort of mucus.

“No? It sure does seem like it but hey, if it’s not, then I guess you don’t mind if I keep doing this, right?” I move up his long tail a little and give each side a light scratch. The sensation makes his skin twitch, causing it to shake even more.

He lets out a squeal when suddenly his tail is no longer in my hands.

“OW—!” His tail flicked up and slapped me across the face. I bring my hand up, holding it where my skin stings. “Did you just hit me?!”

“Ah shit—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry—!” Simon pushes himself up more, frantically trying to apologize while I readjust my glasses that were all but hit off my face.

“Oh that’s it. You're the one done for now.” I grab at his tail, moving up a good foot and dig my fingers into the muscular flesh.

“EEEAHHAhaha! WahahAIT—! GRAHAHACE—!! I-it wahahas a-an accihiHIDENT!!” He slumps back down into the water, splashing some onto the floor while Rocky lets out an amused hum.

“Com’ere Rocky, help me get him back. I know you're curious about his tail too~.” I smirk, watching the way Simon frantically objects, his eyes wide with panic as he tries to stop his smile.

Rocky’s silent for a moment. “Grace right. Rocky very very very curious. Want to feel. Apology Simon” Rocky makes his way over, making Simon squirm more.

“Pfft-heheha—hmhmhmhm—!!” He clamps his mouth shut, covering his face with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Rocky settles higher up, towards the huge line of teeth and lightly squeezes and traces the flesh with two claws. 

“Eugh, slimy. Grace should have told Rocky. Disgust.” Though he continues anyway. I watch as his claws gently and cautiously dig in as Simon lets out a shriek, bucking his hips up making his tail jerk in my hold.

“NAHAHOhoho! Rohocky p-plehEHEASE—!!” His tail wiggles more, though not much. I assume it’s rather heavy and outside of water; he’s just not strong enough to actually move it away from us, just enough to flick the end across my face. Lucky me.

I trace lightly up and down, lightening my touch as I feel his muscles flex and twitch beneath my fingers. I see tiny dots of pigment begin to flow up his tail as my nails continue to trail upward. With my eyes fixated on the markings, I pause to think for a moment.

“Holy crap! You’ve got lateral lines?” I press into the dots on either side and watch him flail violently in the tub. I guess it makes sense; they're a very important part of many fish and eel, but it's just as insane that he evolved to have them too.

“AH-NOHOHOT THEHEREHEHAHA—IHIHEHAHAHA—!!” Simon attempts to roll over on himself but the tight box and his large size stop him. His hand slaps against his mouth again as he slowly squirms down the tub. To be fair, I didn't think they would be ticklish, though.

“What words mean, question?” I slow my fingers to lightly trace over the spot again while glancing at Rocky. 

“It’s this organ on many fish that runs up either side of their body. It helps them detect vibrations, movement, and changes in water pressure. The organ is highly developed and highly sensitive and helps the creature be able to navigate murky or dirty waters.” My thumbs drill into the spots on either side as Simon arches up again, with a shriek, his hand clawing at the air in front of him desperately. I notice the very end of his tail flicking and wagging harder.

“Show Rocky. Rocky want too feel ‘Lateral Line’—”

“NONONOHOHOhoho!! R-Rohohocky dohohosnt aha-neheheed t-to feel—!”

“Okay!” Excitement colors my voice as Simon continues to protest and laugh. Rocky stops squeezing and lightly taps against Simon's skin. He can't see the spots, so I'll have to describe what the organ should look like from the inside. “See where my hand is?” I still them, letting them rest against his cool skin.

He taps more, trying to hear his insides, pulling light giggles from Simon in the process. ‘Yes.”

“Okay, there should be a canal full of liquid sitting under where my hands are. This is the lateral line. It holds clusters of sensory units called nuromasts.” He brings another claw up, vibrating it to get a good look inside, which makes Simon jerk from left to right.

My eyes find Simon again, sharp teeth sticking out as he tries to bite his lip and his hair sticks to his face in damp curls. I feel my face flush a little at the sight.

Focus Grace. Fish. Science. Not his lovely hair and smile. I clear my throat.

“These neuromasts have sensory hair cells covered in a jelly-like cap. Water movement, or, I guess, blood in this instance, and vibrations push and pull on the caps, bending the hairs underneath.” Rocky pauses for a moment, lifting his claws away. 

“Facinating sensory inputs.” He comments, I think, more to himself.

Simon slumps against the tub, pulling in big breathes of air. His smile is bright and giddy and I see some tears prick at his eyes. His hands come to his chest as he heaves and giggles spill from his lips.

However, this is short-lived, as Rocky quickly and firmly digs his claws into Simon's upper side, causing him to scream out with a sudden jerk. I guess Rocky found them. Feeling rather mean today, lightly scratching again too. Simon's head bangs back against the tub while his arm frantically gets stuck, trying to figure out where to grab.

“RHOHOCKYHIHIHEHEAHAH *SNRK* NAHAHOHO—!!! AH-GRAHAHACEHEHE—!!!”

I slow my hands and run my open palms over the smooth skin, feeling its shape.

“Interesting. This how Simon navigate blood, question?” Rocky starts to tap against his body again, trying to get a better look with all Simon’s movements.

“That’s my hypothesis.” I can't seem to pull my eyes away from Simon for too long. He got a giant smile plastered across his face, his cheeks a bright red color. I notice that his canine teeth are now much bigger too. Although larger and more pointy than the average human when he’s normal, these things look like they could do some real damage. Maybe 2-ish inches long.

“All fish on Earth ticklish, question?” His question makes me snort. 

“No no, this is all Simon!” I laugh, watching his face grow a shade darker.

“Fuhuhuck y-you! Yohou guh—GUYEHEHS SUHUHUCK!” He squirms further into the tub, more water running off the side.

“His tail is so firm," I murmur, ignoring him, pressing more. The muscles have some give but overall it’s rather hard.

“Wrong.” Rocky trills. “Underbelly soft and tender.” 

I look over. My end is flipped so the underside is on the floor but higher up, where Rocky is, Simon’s belly up from spilling over the tub and that’s what Rocky’s been pressing into when not digging into Simon's lateral line.

“Ooo let me feel!” I start to scoot over, eagerly. Simon plants his hand against the edge of the tub and starts trying to hoist himself up. Not sure what his plan is if he did manage to get himself out but Rocky quickly stops him as he brings a third claw up, vibrating into the skin and he quickly falls back into the water.

“NONONOHOhohoo Grahace—SHIHIHIT!!" He screws his eyes shut, shacking his head.

My hands feel around the softer areas. Rocky was right; it’s pudgy and squishy on his stomach, but the further to his side you get, the firmer it is. I squeeze the soft flesh, digging my thumbs in as Simon cackles from the tub. He’s resorted to just hugging his arm around himself; his head is thrown back and his hair is a mess. 

It’s so nice seeing him like this after all this time. Sure, I get a smile, maybe if I’m lucky a light chuckle out of him but to see him bright in the face is nice. He looks rather cute. So carefree.

My hand grazes one of the two rather large fins on either side of his tail. There is an overall different texture than the others around his body. I find it interesting that it looks like evolution just threw a couple of different types together and just hoped at least one of them would be helpful.

I carefully grab at the membrane and pull it out. It reminds me of a betta fish, actually. They would probably be flowy in the water and dense. I’m not sure what purpose they would actually serve but I know some betta fish can vibrate them to warn others of danger but he clearly isn’t built for a pack. This kind of circles back to his evolution thing.

Actually I’m not sure he can even move them.

I run my fingers to the base, feeling around for any muscle or larger spines and he shoots upwards again.

“NAHAHOhoho ah-stohoHOHOP *SNRK* EEEHIHI—!!!” I pull new laughter from him as the end of his tail slaps against the floor. 

To my surprise, I do feel a round socket joint with some muscles around it, though I'm not sure even then how much mobility he has. I press my fingernails deeper into the area and reach over him to feel the spines running down his back. 

Again, softer than the ones around his hip and head but more firm than the two on his sides. They collapse flat and down against his skin as I pet downwards lightly over them. I feel movement by my fingers and glance back down at the fins, seeing the base try to flare up against its own weight and out, making me giggle. I bring my arm back, shoving both of my hands under the fin, encircling the socket, and squeeze.

“AHA-GEHEHET OUHOhout o-of *SNRK* THEHEHERHREHEHIHHI—!!” Another bang comes  from the tub as I squeeze a second time. I decide to give him some mercy and slow my hands to soft tracing.

I glance over to the teeth rubbing up his front. They stop a few inches below his belly button, while on the other end, they curl outwards to either side.

“Hey Si, is this a mouth? Or just more teeth?” I inch my hands closer to the bottom of them. Simon is in a pretty unfortunate position. His pelvis is forced up and out by the edge of the tub. All his squirming and sliding back as he laughs only pushed his tail out of the tub more.

He says nothing, snorting, and loud, pitchy giggles spilling from him, so Rocky answers for him instead.

“Is mouth. Can hear open cavity.” Rocky pulls away, joining me by the tub. “Connected to intestines. Simon intestine and organ bigger than Grace's. Intestines longer and stomach bigger.” He chirps. I decide to ignore the fact that Rocky knows the size of my internal organs.

I’m assuming because Simon would theoretically be eating rather large meals of fish and other big creatures.

“This has to be the sickest thing I’ve ever seen.” I gently run my fingers over the teeth but flinch away when Simon, much more desperately, calls out.

“WAIT—wahait!! Dohon’t.” He pants, wheezy, shaky breaths coming from him.

As much as I would love to see him open it and to have a look inside, I don't push. My hands retract back and instead crawl and stand to look down at his bright face. Although his cheeks are red, they seem to deepen when I stare at him. 

“W-whahat?” he grumbles, peaking his eyes open at me while trying and failing to frown. I think he's trying to look angry but his eyes are still full of giddiness to actually work. He's splashed a good portion of the water out at this point. 

“Can I wash your hair for you? As a thank you for letting me and Rocky touch.” His eyes go wide slightly. I feel my cheeks heat up as silence fills the room. “Um, you know… I assumed it’s kind of hard for you to do with one arm and all.” I sheepishly look away. “You can say no; I won't be offended.” 

“...yeah. That would be nice.” He avoids my eyes as he pushes himself upright again. He said yes… 6 months ago he would've just left the room in silence.

I grab the bottle off the floor and squirt some into my palm. I rub it between my fingers, then gently apply it to Simon's scalp. His shoulders slowly lower and I hear a soft purr start almost immediately. It reminds me of the noise Rocky makes right before I fall asleep. I smile and don't say anything. His head lulls back into my hands. The second he realizes he's doing it, he tries to straighten back up but I keep scratching anyways, digging in slightly harder. His head sways back again, like it's against his will.

I rub the shampoo into his long locks, seeing how they still hold curls and waves even while wet. I start using my nails, scratching against his skin, pulling louder purrs and rumbles from him, making me smile.

I hear a soft cooing noise come from Rocky as he observes Simon melt into my touch. “Very spoiled.” Simon opens his eyes and gives a weak glare in Rocky's direction as I snicker.

I rinse his hair, combing my fingers through the curls, twirling a few locks around my finger. I squeeze the ends, then grab his towel, pulling it over his head as he grumbles. His hair begins to frizz up as I massage his scalp with the towel. After a few minutes I pull the towel off and he's left with messy, damp hair, sticking up in all directions

He rolls his head back, his cheeks a soft red, and stares at me with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. I don't think I've ever seen him so content.

A smile comes to my face as I reach with two fingers and scratch behind one of the fins where his ears should be. His eyes fall closed, and he purrs louder as his head falls to the side into my hand again. I stop scratching and pull away slightly, while his head follows my fingers. I chuckle and let my other hand joins as I run my fingertips down to the gills along his neck, making his shoulders halfheartedly come up in defense while he squirms with a silly smile.

The magnet achieves the ability to pull on ferromagnetic materials such as nickel, cobalt, and iron. 

Iron, and other ferromagnetic materials, are permanently magnetic. It contains microscopic regions called magnetic domains where the atomic magnetic moments naturally align in the same direction. When a magnetic field is applied, these domains expand and align to create a powerful magnetic response. 

Grace curled sleepily against Simon’s side. “You’re warm,” he mumbled. 

“I know,” Simon replied. He felt his heart beating harder, faster, and yet somehow slowing down. His very directionality—biological, magnetic, structural—seemed to leap towards Grace.

When a ferromagnetic material is exposed to a magnetic field and the field is removed, its magnetization doesn’t immediately return to zero. This is called hysteresis. 

Simon felt his heart lurch and slowly settle down again when Grace eventually got out of bed to get some coffee for the both of them. 

If heated above a specific temperature (the Curie temperature), ferromagnetic materials lose their properties and become paramagnetic—only weakly attracted to magnetic fields.

Grace crawled back into bed with two mugs. Simon took a scalding sip. He didn’t know about magnetism, or ferromagnetic properties, or Curie temperatures. 

But he knew iron. Oh, he knew iron alright. And he knew the way Grace seemed to stick to him. 

Or was it the other way around?

Simon had a lot of faith in the Hail Mary’s temperature regulation system.

Grace evidently didn’t.

The blonde man cuddled closer, setting his empty coffee mug out of the way. He stuck his freezing hands under Simon’s borrowed t-shirt. Simon hissed and nearly spilled his coffee. 

“Fucking shit, Gracie.”

“Warm me up then.”

Simon set his mug aside and tugged his t-shirt off. 

Grace actually blushed. “Oh, well, that works too—“

“No, you idiot, I’m just giving you better skin-to-skin contact,” Simon muttered, pulling Grace across him. 

Simon pulled the blanket up so it covered Grace’s shoulders. Grace was lovingly trapped in a cocoon of warmth, between Simon’s radiator of a body and the softness of the blanket. 

Grace shuffled his head down to rest on Simon’s tummy—softened from time spent with Grace and enough food. As Grace traced a path between a mole on Simon’s left hip to one on his right, Simon flexed his abdomen on purpose. The muscles rippled under Grace’s hand.

“Show off.”

“I don’t know… you seemed to like them last night,” Simon muttered cheekily. Grace sputtered and hid his face in Simon’s tummy with an embarrassed groan.

Simon laughed from the ridiculousness and the vibrations. “Gehet your face outta there.”

Grace lifted his head. “Why? Does it tickle?”

Simon huffed. “Yes. Stop it.”

Grace started planting kisses around Simon’s bellybutton. 

“HA- Grahace that’s not what stopping looks lihike!”

Simon’s belly shook with giggles. “I did stop,” Grace mumbled between kisses. “I’m just— appreciating— my— Simon,” he added, punctuating each word with a kiss. 

“This dohohoesn’t feel so appreciative…” Simon complained. “I fuckin’ warmed you up!”

“Yes, I’m feeling very toasty,” Grace mumbled into Simon’s lower belly. 

“Ahahasshole…”

“What was that?” Grace murmured. He didn’t let Simon answer, though. Grace bent his head again and licked at Simon’s bellybutton. 

Simon shrieked. “AH- what the fuck?! Ew ew—GRAHAHACE!”

Simon pushed uselessly at Grace’s head, giggling himself silly. “Sohoho disgusting, stohohop…”

Grace grinned, looking very pleased with himself. Simon’s lower tummy was wet and Simon swiped a palm across himself to dry it off. “Fuckin’ gross.”

Grace rested his head on Simon again and then lifted it. “Ew, Simon, you’re getting my face wet,” he complained, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

“Your fault, idiot.”

Grace giggled. 

Magnetic flux is defined as the measurement of the total magnetic field that passes through a given surface area.  With Grace’s body across his, Simon felt electric. Every part of him keened towards Grace. If Grace was north, Simon was his south. If Grace was positive, Simon was his negative.