“Give me 20 minutes; I'm not done.” He said that over an hour ago. Shifting closer, I rest my chin on his shoulder from behind while wrapping my arm across his middle, looking down at the laptop and papers strewn about in front of him. He's gotten more anxious lately. More than usual.

Sure, the food situation isn't the best, but he's gotten obsessed with checking every little fucking thing on the ship. Is the ship staging on course? Is the water reclaimer working? Are the oxygen levels okay? Are the Taumoeba breeding tanks leaking? etc. Any and every possible bad scenario seems to be running through his head all the time.

I huff, peering over at his face. It's been over 24 hours at this point, according to Rocky, and he looks terrible. His skin has lost its slight pink hue, looking pale as his hands shake before he starts typing again. I can't stop the grimace that crosses my face as I try to hold him tighter.

He shrugs me off as I see him flip through multiple tabs of the Hail Mary's vitals and equipment maintenance information while running a hand through his hair. Taking a step back, I look at how thin he's gotten recently. Although I wouldn't say it's too bad yet, the Taumoba slurry is eating away at his muscle and some of his fat. The sweater I'd stolen three nights ago used to fit him so snugly, but tonight, it looks like it belongs to someone else.

“Ryland, everything is fine. There would be alarms and shit going off if something was wrong.” I try to say it in a reassuring tone, leaning my chest against his back, kissing the messy cowlick at the back of his head. It refuses to stay down no matter how many times he tries to smooth it flat.

“The point is to catch anything before it goes wrong and triggers the alarms.” He picks up some papers, skimming over the data. His voice has lost the sweetness it's usually swirled in. It sounds cold and slightly annoyed at my pestering.

I stayed up waiting for him. Again. Every night this week I promised myself I wouldn't, and every night I break that promise. I know I didn’t have to, but for the sake of Rocky, it’s significantly easier to watch us both at the same time. Having your humans wake around the same time is also less time-consuming than if they staggered, keeping him stuck watching longer.

And I want to fall asleep next to Ryland.

I know why he worries. I worry. I worried like him when I first arrived, and he was the one to tell me everything was all right, but it slowly started eating away at him now, in a way that is, in turn, worrying me again. Full circle.

I sigh into his hair and reach my arm back around, placing it over his tummy, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the front of his stomach.

“Simon…” he says in a warning tone as his body tenses up against mine.

“What? I’m just hugging you.” Murmur with a small smirk, moving my face to the nape of his neck and planting a small kiss. I open my mouth slightly and nip at the sensitive skin, earning me a squeak.

“Sihimon. Stohop. I’m busy.” Trying to steel himself, he scoots forward, only to jump back as I softly prod at his middle. I lean against him firmly with most of my body weight, pinning him to the table as he wiggles.

I worm my hand under his shirt and lightly scratch at his stomach. Ryland's hands suddenly drop the papers and shoot down to latch onto mine, batting at my fingers.

“You should be busy sleeping.” I talk into his skin, rubbing my beard against his sensitive flesh. He awkwardly arches up while trying to curl in on himself as I blindly feel around for his belly button.

“NAHohoho! I-I hahahave toho—AH!!” I finally find the little divot and dig in, swirling my finger around. He squeals, his knees shooting up and hitting the underside of the table with a bang.

I move my head, kissing softly up the right side of his neck and behind his ear, faintly smelling coffee. He attempts to bring his shoulders up to defend, squashing my face slightly against his as I kiss along his stubble.

“STOHOhop!! Sihimon gehet out of thehHEHRE—IHIHEHAHAH!” He shrieks as I dig into his belly button harder, his hands scrambling to pry my finger away. The shirt getting in his way, he flings the hem up, giving himself an opening to grab at my hands. I push closer into him and glance down at his tummy, but my hand freezes for half a second. His ribs stand out more than they used to. I fucking hate this Taumoeba diet.

I pull my head away slightly with a frown, glancing over at the reddening tips of his ears. Stilling my hand, I rub gentle circles into the little pudge he has left, hoping to soothe his nerves, though it just pulls more giggles and frantic hiccups from him.

“You gonna go to bed?” I mumble up against his ear, making sure to blow puffs of air inside. Ryland shivers, and I notice goosebumps run up his arms at the feeling. He shakes his head against mine, light chuckles spilling from his lips. 

“I-I’m nohohot a chihild!” he argues. 

“Maybe stop acting like one,” I whisper into the shell of his ear. He shakes his head against me more, his glasses sliding down his nose from the friction as little ‘no’s’ and pleas come from him.

And he says I’m the stubborn one.

“Oh, okay.” Rolling my eyes, I shoot my hand to his right underarm, a shriek ripping from his throat. “I guess you need a little more convincing.” 

He twists in my hold, elbows shooting down to his sides in a desperate attempt at defense. I move my fingers up and down, from his topmost rib to the sensitive skin of his armpit. He leans back on me, his head thrown back with laughter against my shoulder. 

Peppering more kisses along his neck, I move his shirt aside with my chin to gain access to his shoulder as well. I gently nibble and pull lightly at the flesh, making sure not to poke or break skin with my other, sharper teeth. 

“I-I’m nohoHOT EHEHEVEN AH-TIEHEhered!!” he lies through his cackles, twisting in my hold.

“Sure you're not.” I move my hand down slightly, tasering into his ribs, then moving back up to his underarm.

I lean into the warmth that is Ryland Grace. Human and alive. Here with me and making me all the more sleepy myself. I wanna sleep. I will get him to come to bed.

“NAHOhoho! WaitWAIT—WAHAHAIT—OHOHO GOHOHOSH!!” Hard laughter comes from him, his glasses falling off onto the table with the abandoned work, kissing along the back of his hairline.

I make my way back to his nape and take in a large, dramatic breath, one I'm sure he would hear. He squeals before I even get a chance to do anything, suddenly fighting harder than before, his legs kicking under the table. Pursing my lips, I press it to his skin and hold still for a moment. His breath hitches as he freezes, anticipation building. And blow.

He screeches, arching forward, his head flying back as if about to crash into mine, but it is only lightly placed on top of mine. How thoughtful.

I press raspberry after raspberry, paying special attention to his beauty marks, using them almost as a guide for where I should place the next one. I follow the little trail of freckles across the side of his neck. One. Then another. Almost like tiny constellations. I decided every one of them deserves a raspberry of their own.

My hand pinches its way down his side, digging into the bones of his ribs, feeling the space between them. His opposite hand comes up and grabs at my own, pinning it to his torso as he shoots his head back up, shaking it from side to side.

“STOHohop! Nohoho mohore!” He pleads, now desperately pushing against the table with his free hand. I slow my touches to lightly tracing up and down his side, making him curl over on himself, but is blocked by the table.

“You know how to make this stop.” I smile while placing another raspberry under his ear.

He stays silent, preferring to laugh himself silly rather than to just come to bed with me. I hum at his determination to stay up and to fight me as I try and take care of him. His laughter has become light and lazy, his head rolling back onto mine again. Then it stops, well sorta. 

He's clamped his mouth closed, giggles shaking his shoulders as he holds them in his chest. His chin touches down to his chest, fighting my touches.

“...fine.” Ripping my hand from his hold, I latch onto his hip firmly, squeezing the bone rapidly. I can feel how his feet push against the floor, pushing him against me as a squeal rips out between us.

“Pfft—nohoHOHO!! SHIHIMON—HIHEHAHAHA—!!! OKAY-OKAHAHAY!!” He relents.

"Okay, what?” I tease, rubbing the bone in circles with my thumb. He jumps to the left, on the verge of falling off his chair.

“FUHUDGE!! I-I’LL SL—ACKAHAHAhaha!!” He sputters over his words.

“Hmm? I didn't quite catch that, Ry. What did you say?” I add another raspberry to his neck, and he quirks it to the side. “You'll…what?”

“I-I’LL SLEEP—I’LL SLEHEHEEP!!” He all but screams out, pushing hard back against me. I let my hand still but hold him upright as he slouches back. He huffs as his arms go slack against his sides.

“Good.”

I pull away and rotate him to face me, and shit, he looks like he could conk out right here and now. His face is flushed bright red with half-lidded eyes full of tears. He lazily looks to me, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

Reaching over, I grab his glasses. I place them on top of his nose as giggles still pour out of him, pushing them up and using my thumb to wipe away the few tears that escaped. Reaching up, I push his hair out of his face, then trail my hand down past his temple to under his chin, with a fond smile. 

“Ready?” I ask, scratching lightly at his jaw.

“Yehehes.” He shakes my fingers away with a halfhearted attempt to shrug up his shoulders.

My hand takes his, and I pull him to his feet, his legs and knees wobbling. He attempts a step, and I hook my arm under and around him as he staggers. Ryland shoots upwards with a squeak and stumbles away, more tired laughter coming from him.

“I'm done, Ryland. I'm not gonna tickle you.” I chuckle, following after him.

“I-I knohohow. I cahan’t help it.” Instead, I place my hand along his lower back, rubbing softly, leading him towards the dormitory where Rocky is waiting.

By the time we reach the room, his head has found the top of my own, leaning against me.