🖤I’m🖤Remus🖤

The afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the tall arched windows of the lecture hall, catching dust motes that danced in the heavy, quiet air. Outside, the early autumn wind rustled the fading leaves of the quad, carrying the faint, distant hum of student chatter.

Inside, the room was mostly empty, save for the soft scuff of canvas sneakers against polished hardwood and the dull thud of textbooks sliding into leather satchels.

You leaned against the edge of your mahogany desk, arms crossed loosely over your chest, pretending to be deeply engrossed in grading a stack of mid-term essays. But your mind—and your sharper-than-average senses—were entirely dialed into the whispered conversation happening two rows back.

"I'm telling you, I saw the way he looked at him during lunch," a hushed, giggling voice drifted over the top of a red-inked paper. "It's completely obvious. The man practically glows whenever he's in the room."

"No way, Professor Xavier has too much self-control for that," another student hissed back, the sound of a zipper being yanked shut punctuating the debate. "Besides, everyone knows he's entirely focused on the school. Though... if it is someone here, it has to be—"

A sharp, familiar rap of knuckles against the heavy oak door frame cut the gossip short.

You didn't need to look up to know who it was. The sudden, subtle warmth that bloomed in your chest—a reflex entirely independent of your conscious will—gave him away just as surely as the distinct, smooth cadence of his voice.

"Class is technically dismissed, Mr. Henderson, unless you've suddenly found a burning passion for seventeenth-century political theory," Charles said, a warm, melodic amusement lacing his tone.

You raised your gaze from the essays. Charles stood framed in the doorway, leaning slightly against the jamb with one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tweed trousers. His sharp blue eyes caught yours immediately, the corners crinkling into that familiar, disarming smile that had a frustrating habit of short-circuiting your better judgment.

The rumors had been buzzing around the halls for days, a delicious and agonizing whisper network among the students: Charles Xavier, the brilliant, untouchable young professor, had a crush. And the frantic, wishful part of your mind—the part that spent entirely too many late nights sharing scotch and chess matches by the roaring study fire—dared to wonder if the object of his affection might be looking right back at him.

Naturally, you weren't one to leave a mystery like that to chance. And being a mutant with the remarkable, slippery gift of shifting your cellular structure at will—molding flesh, bone, and pigment into whatever face you chose—meant you had the ultimate tool for a little harmless espionage.

As the students hurriedly grabbed their bags and brushed past Charles with polite murmurs of "Good afternoon, Professor," you let your gaze linger on him, a slow, experimental smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. Tonight, you decided, you were going to find out exactly what kind of face caught Charles Xavier's eye.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind the last lingering student, leaving the cavernous lecture hall suddenly, intimately quiet.

Charles pushed off the doorframe, his loafers clicking against the hardwood as he crossed the distance between you with that effortless, loping stride. He didn't look like a formidable telepath poised to change the course of mutant history in these moments; he looked like a tired, brilliant academic who had found his favorite anchor in a long day.

"You look dangerous, my friend," Charles murmured, stopping just a few feet away. He rested his hands on the back of an empty wooden chair, leaning in with a soft, lopsided smile. "Either you've just graded a truly atrocious batch of essays, or you're plotting something entirely inappropriate."

"I am deeply wounded," you replied smoothly, setting your red pen down. "I'll have you know my grading methods are fair, balanced, and entirely devoid of malice. Plotting, on the other hand... that entirely depends on the definition."

Charles laughed, a rich, genuine sound that vibrated right through the quiet space between you. "Right. Well, save your plots for later. I came to rescue you from this mausoleum. We have a mountain of paperwork waiting in the study, and I believe a bottle of scotch that needs our immediate attention."

"A compelling offer," you said, letting your eyes linger on him just a fraction longer than necessary, watching the way the afternoon light caught the amber flecks in his striking blue eyes. "Give me five minutes to lock up my desk?"

"Five minutes," Charles agreed, turning gracefully on his heel. "Don't dawdle. The fireplace is already calling your name."

As he walked toward the exit, his back turned, a sharp thrill of anticipation coursed through your veins. The seed of an idea planted itself firmly in your mind. The scotch could wait. The paperwork could certainly wait.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind him, sealing his footsteps fading down the corridor, you closed your eyes and let your breathing steady.

Time for a test.

You focused inward, zeroing in on the microscopic blueprint of your own genetic code. It was a familiar, fluid sensation—like slipping into warm water or putting on a well-worn coat. Your skin prickled, a faint, bioluminescent shimmer rippling beneath the surface as your cells melted, shifted, and re-knitted themselves with absolute, silent precision. Bones elongated, muscle mass redistributed, and pigment danced across your epidermis.

Within seconds, you walked over to the tall, floor-length mirror propped against the corner of the lecture hall.

Staring back at you was a familiar, imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp, severe features, close-cropped fair hair, and eyes that held the unmistakable, heavy gravity of a survivor. A face marked by quiet intensity and a history that mirrored Charles's own in ways that always felt a little too dangerous to ignore.

You tested the vocal cords, letting out a low, smooth cadence laced with a subtle, sharp edge that didn't sound remotely like your own. Magnificent.

If Charles truly had a type—if these rumors had a shred of truth and leaned toward the man who occupied far too much of the telepath's thoughts and memories—you were going to find out tonight. You slipped out of the side exit of the lecture hall, bypassing the main corridors to intercept him by the private faculty quarters.

The game was officially afoot, and you were ready to see if the brilliant Professor Xavier could keep his composure when faced with the ghost of Erik Lehnsherr walking his own halls.

The heavy doors of Charles’ private study were ajar, casting a warm, amber slice of lamplight across the dark hallway runner. You didn't knock. Instead, you adjusted your posture, pulling the sharp, commanding angles of Erik Lehnsherr tighter around your frame like a heavy wool coat. You softened your footing, stepped silently across the threshold, and leaned your shoulder casually against the ornate door frame.

Arms crossed lazily over your chest, you waited.

The study was quiet, save for the steady, hypnotic crackle of a fire blazing in the hearth. Charles was standing by his sprawling oak desk, his back turned as he carefully adjusted a stack of correspondence, looking entirely at home in the quiet sanctuary of his estate.

For a long moment, you simply watched him, letting the heavy, familiar tension settle in the air between you—the ghost of a rivalry and a bond that ran far deeper than either man cared to admit. It was a bold trick, and the adrenaline humming in your veins made the shape-shifting feel electric.

"If you're here to lecture me on perimeter security, Erik, you're a few hours too late," Charles said, his voice entirely unbothered, cutting smoothly through the quiet. He didn't even turn around. "Though I admit, skulking in doorways is a rather dramatic touch, even for you."

You didn't move, holding the pose, waiting for him to look and see the trap spring.

Charles finally turned, a dry, welcoming retort already half-formed on his lips. But the words died instantly as his striking blue eyes landed on you. He froze mid-stride, his gaze sweeping over the severe cut of the jaw, the rigid posture, the unmistakable silver-grey in the close-cropped hair.

For a heartbeat, the air in the room went dead still. You braced yourself for a gasp, a dropped glass, or a flash of genuine panic.

Instead, the corners of Charles' mouth twitched. The tension broke, replaced by a deep, resonant chuckle that warmed his entire face. He shook his head, turning back to the heavy crystal decanter on his desk.

"I see you've mastered the art of Erik," Charles chuckled, unbothered as he reached for two empty glass tumblers and set them beside the amber liquid with a soft, echoing clink.

Your carefully constructed facade instantly fractured. The imposing, lethal posture melted away, your mouth falling slightly open in a dumbfounded gaffe as the illusion nearly slipped entirely. You dropped your arms, blinking hard as you pushed off the door frame and stepped heavily into the room, kicking the heavy oak door shut behind you with a dull thud.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried desperately to claw back a shred of your composure.

Charles sank gracefully into his leather armchair, a quiet, knowing amusement dancing in his eyes. He didn't push the matter, simply gesturing to the wingback chair opposite him with a lazy wave of his hand.

"You don't think the way Erik does," Charles said softly, his voice dropping an octave into something smooth and teasing. "The shape is remarkably convincing, I'll give you that. But your mind is entirely your own. Much warmer, too."

A slow, heavy sigh slipped past your lips as the illusion dissolved. With a faint, shimmering ripple across your skin, the sharp angles of Erik’s face melted away, your features softening back into your own skin just as you crossed the room and sank into the leather armchair opposite him.

The fire popped, casting long, dancing shadows against the rich wood-paneled walls. Charles didn't say a word, but the amusement in his bright blue eyes was palpable as he reached for the crystal decanter. He poured a generous amber measure into the first heavy tumbler, swirling it briefly before filling the second.

He picked up one of the glasses and leaned forward, extending it across the small mahogany table toward you. You reached out, fingers stretching to take it by the rim—only for Charles to smoothly pull his hand back just out of reach, a smug, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"What are you playing at?" Charles asked, his tone light but laced with a sharp, perceptive curiosity. "You're usually quite good at psychological games, but never with me darling."

A slow, deliberate smile curved your mouth. You didn't break eye contact as you leaned in closer, bridging the space between you.

"No games," you murmured softly.

With a subtle, controlled shift, your features began to blur. Bone structure reshaped, hair darkened and fell into familiar waves, and the flecks in your eyes locked onto the exact shade of striking blue staring right back at you.

Sitting across from him was his own reflection—down to the amused tilt of your head and the specific, wicked spark in your eye.

Charles froze, his breath catching slightly in his chest as he stared straight into his own face.

You raised your glass in a silent, mocking toast, your voice carrying his exact melodic lisp and cadence. "Darling."

For a long, suspended second, the study fell entirely silent. The only sound in the room was the low, crackling roar of the fire and the steady, heavy thud of your own pulse. Charles stared at himself—at you—his breath hitching ever so slightly as his brilliant blue eyes darted over every minute detail of his own face, mapped out in terrifyingly accurate precision right down to the smirk.

Then, a slow, disbelieving laugh broke past his lips, rich and heavy with a mixture of awe and sheer fondness.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a low, gravelly whisper that sent an involuntary shiver straight down your spine.

"I have to hand it to you," Charles murmured, his gaze locking intensely onto yours—or rather, his own. "Things are never, ever boring with you."

Before you could formulate a clever retort or let the illusion drop, a sharp, clear clink rang out as he pressed his crystal tumbler firmly against yours.

With the spell broken and the tension snapping into something warm and electric, you finally let the shift fade. Your features rippled back into your own skin, the familiar warmth settling over your face as you smiled back at him, the ice in the scotch melting between you.

By the time you reached your fourth glass of scotch, the heavy amber liquid had settled into a comfortable, warm hum in your veins, though your enhanced mutant metabolism kept your head entirely clear. Charles, however, was not quite so fortunate.

The brilliant, composed telepath was visibly feeling the effects. He sat hunched over the mahogany table, squinting in frustration at a pile of curriculum proposals, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as if trying to force the blurry words into focus. He gave up with a quiet groan, letting his head loll back against the leather of his chair.

Instead of returning to his work, Charles turned his head toward you. He propped his chin lazily in his palm, watching you with an unguarded, utterly blatant intensity. His blue eyes traced the line of your jaw and the focused furrow of your brow as you methodically worked your way through the remaining paperwork, entirely oblivious to the heavy, affectionate weight of his gaze.

Realizing he had been caught staring, Charles cleared his throat softly. He pushed his chair back with a protesting scrape of wood against the floor and stood up, swaying just a fraction before catching his balance.

"I'll be back in a moment," he muttered, his voice a little softer and thicker around the edges than usual.

Without looking up from your papers, you offered a dry, teasing smile. "Don't let me catch you passed out in the foyer, Professor."

Charles gave a hazy, dismissive wave of his hand over his shoulder as he ambled toward the door, muttering something unintelligible under his breath about his dignity.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet warmth of the study. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs and finally letting the papers drop onto your lap. Racking your brain, you picked up the thread of the students' gossip from earlier that afternoon.

If the rumors had any truth to them—and if the object of his affection was indeed a man, as the whispered conversation had implied—the possibilities narrowed down quickly. It certainly wasn't Logan; the rough-around-the-edges brawler lived entirely out of orbit. And as Charles had just proven, he knew the difference between you and Erik too well for it to be a ghost of the past.

That left Hank. Brilliant, gentle, perpetually flustered Hank McCoy. It fit the academic atmosphere, the late-night lab sessions, and the quiet mutual respect they shared.

Nodding to yourself, you muttered the name aloud, testing the weight of it. "Hank-"

"Hank?"

You jumped slightly, looking up toward the doorway. Charles was standing there, leaning heavily against the frame with his arms crossed. His eyes were squinting slightly—less from telepathy and more from the alcohol—as he watched you closely, waiting to see your reaction. You searched his face for a flicker of jealousy, a blush, or a defensive denial, but his expression remained completely unreadable.

With a heavy, weary sigh, Charles pushed off the doorway, closed the door behind him, and shuffled back to his seat, sinking into the leather with a soft thump.

"It's not a game," Charles murmured, staring straight into the flickering flames of the fireplace. "Yet you are toying with me."

He turned his head to face you, but before the words could even fully register, your features rippled and shifted. In a blink, the face staring back at him belonged to the sleek, sharp-featured countenance of the Black Swan—cool, enigmatic, and entirely detached.

Charles didn't flinch or laugh this time. Instead, a quiet frustration crossed his features. He reached across the small expanse of the desk, his hand coming up to cup your cheeks, his warm palms gently but firmly squishing your face together to ruin the illusion.

"Stop that," Charles whispered, a soft, exasperated plea threading through his voice. "I want to see your real face when you answer me, please."

Your features rippled and smoothed back into your own skin, the familiar lines of your face resting entirely bare beneath his hands.

​Yet Charles didn't pull away.

​His thumbs rested high on your cheekbones, calloused and warm against your skin, anchoring you in the quiet, fire-lit space between you. The lingering haze of the scotch seemed to momentarily vanish from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, intense focus that made your breath catch in your throat.

​"Why?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, quiet rasp that barely carried over the crackle of the hearth. "You cannot possibly be this bored."

​A soft sigh slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering down for a fraction of a second before meeting his fierce, blue gaze.

​"The students are talking," you mumbled, feeling a faint, traitorous heat rise to your cheeks beneath his palms. "They were whispering in my lecture about you having a crush on someone. And... I got curious."

​That gave him pause. The playful amusement in his expression vanished, replaced by a sharp, genuine surprise that seemed to clear the last remnants of the alcohol from his head.

​"And you believed them?" he asked, his voice tightening just a fraction.

​You offered a slow, deliberate nod, letting your eyelids lower slightly into a thoroughly pathetic, exaggerated look of earnest innocence. "It seemed reasonable."

​Charles didn't answer right away. For a long, suffocating moment, he simply stared at you. He didn't use his telepathy—he didn't need to. He just looked at you, really looked at you, his thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone in a slow, unconscious caress that completely short-circuited your ability to think straight. The frantic guessing game of Erik, Hank, and high-society strangers felt a million miles away.

​Then, a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped past his lips.

​He shook his head slowly, a mixture of fond exasperation and profound disbelief washing over his face.

​"You absolute idiot," Charles whispered, the insult dripping with so much affection it made your chest ache. "How on earth could you not notice it was you?”

For a second, your brain completely stalled. The quiet hum of the scotch, the lingering curiosity of the afternoon gossip, the parade of shifting faces—it all evaporated, replaced entirely by the deafening thud of your own heart hammering against your ribs.

​"Me?" you managed to squeak out, your voice dropping to a fragile whisper.

​Charles let out another soft, breathy laugh, though the humor in his eyes was layered with a sudden, raw vulnerability that made it clear he wasn't joking. His thumbs traced slow, soothing circles against your skin, grounding you as the reality of it finally began to settle in.

​"Who else, darling?" Charles murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before locking back onto your eyes. "I spend half my waking hours trying to focus on saving the world, and the other half trying desperately to keep from staring at you across the breakfast table. I talk about you in my sleep, according to Hank. And you thought I was pining over Hank?"

​A breathless, incredulous laugh bubbled up in your chest, instantly chased by a rush of heat that flooded your face. "I mean, you two share a lot of late nights in the lab..."

​"Lab partners who share coffee are entirely different from the man I'm completely, hopelessly captivated by," Charles interrupted gently, a fond, self-deprecating smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in just a fraction closer, the distance between you vanishing. "Though I suppose I should thank your students. Otherwise, I might have spent another six months agonizing over whether you only saw me as a colleague."

​Your hands, which had been resting awkwardly on your knees, finally moved, coming up to grip his wrists. The skin of his hands was warm against your face, and the pulse beating frantically at his wrist betrayed that he was just as nervous as you were.

​"You're an idiot," you whispered, throwing his own insult right back at him with a helpless, beaming grin. "You could have just told me."

​"And ruin your elaborate, dramatic little espionage routine?" Charles shook his head, his blue eyes sparkling with affection. "Never. It was far too entertaining watching you try to seduce me with my oldest friend."

​"That was a low blow, Professor."

​"Fair, but entirely effective." Charles's smile softened, the teasing edge melting away into something quiet and achingly tender. His thumb brushed your cheek one last time before his hand slipped down to cup your jaw, tilting your face up just a fraction. "Now. Are you going to keep making me chase you through a hall of mirrors, or can I finally kiss the man I've been half-in-love with for a year?"

​You didn't bother answering with words. Instead, you closed the remaining inches, pressing your lips to his.

​The kiss was warm, tasting faintly of aged scotch and entirely of relief. Charles let out a quiet sigh against your mouth, his grip shifting to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer, dragging you out of the chair and right into his lap. The paperwork tumbled to the floor in a forgotten heap, scattered across the Persian rug, but neither of you cared about the mess.

Ever since you’d moved in, pink was suddenly all that Jack saw. 

Your pink towels were always fluffy and warm next to his hanging-by-a-thread navy ones on the bathroom rack. Your pink slippers sat dutifully next to his crutches while the two of you were working the night shift; you up in pedes, him down in the third layer of hell. Your pink hair ties scattered in various places: his bedside table, his side of the sink, one in the shower, a few in his vehicle, and he swears he stepped on one in his garage. 

However, no matter how many pink hair ties he saw in his dreams, nothing could have prepared him for your actual addiction: lip gloss. 

As a man, Jack thought that you’d maybe have two or three. One to go in your makeup bag and one to go in your purse and one to leave in your locker at work. 

Oh, boy, was he wrong—dead wrong. 

If he thought you had too many hair ties and too many earrings and too many claw clips that he always had to remind you to take out of your hair before a drive, their number (combined) held no candle to how many lip glosses you had. 

It felt like every trip to the store ended a new lip gloss added to the cart. And that didn’t even compare to the ones you bought online. Jack’s head went dizzy with the, what he felt to be innumerable, list of brands that you swore was better than the last. 

Rhode, Kylie Cosmetics, Summer Fridays, Glossier, Refy, Dior (Jack did like that one because he knew you used his card for that), Clinique, NYX, Eadem: the list went on longer than a receipt from CVS. 

Jack didn’t know how you could keep up with all of them. One minute you were yacking his ear off about the newest sparkly nude shade while the next you were raving about a deep berry shade that would match your dress for the next medical gala. And then in two days, a new box would show up with your name on it, and he could only bet that the four cardboard walls held a brand-new lip gloss. When he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen you finish one push tube before ordering a new one. 

But that really never mattered; he didn’t care what you bought with your money as long as he got to take care of everything else you needed. 

One time when he asked why you bought so many, you had simply told him that buying a new lip gloss felt like a reward. Whether you got one after a good night with lots of cases with happy results or after a bad shift where the world just felt impossible, you could always find a smidge of joy in buying something pretty to put on your lips. 

Jack understood a little too well. While he didn’t spend his free time scouring the shelves for a new plumping formula that held the smallest of shimmers, he found that same smidge of joy in spending time with you and slowly learning that down time didn’t mean he had to fill it with adrenaline-rushing activities. 

Now, even if the only downside to your lippie addiction was that your bank account went down by almost $25 each purchase, there were a lot of upsides to it as well. One of Jack’s favorites being that you’d get to test each of them out . . . on him. 

Jack became the heart eye emoji every time you swiped the same gloopy-looking lip gloss across your lips. His hazel eyes tracked the back-and-forth motion, and most times he’d run his tongue across his own lips in preparation for what came next. Your lips, now glossy and catching the light in whatever shade you’d gotten, would stretch into a smile as you looked at him expectedly. He never failed to look away, face sometimes leaning in inch by inch before you even finished applying the gloss. 

“Calm down, boy,” you’d said, nose scrunching at his eagerness. “You’ll get your kiss in a minute.” 

“I’m being calm,” he replied cooly like he wasn’t a breath away from your face, eyes taking in each freckle and smile line on your face. If he inhaled deep enough and if your gloss came scented or flavored, he’d be able to smell it on your lips. “You’re just so pretty.” 

“You’re such a flirt.” 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. Jack never minded the feeling of the gloss transferring over to his lips. He remembers how his late-wife’s favorite wine-red matte lipstick would always leave a few prints behind and even on his teeth depending on how long he stayed connected to his lips. But now it seemed as though glosses were more popular than lip stick, and Jack would die happily with his lips between your smooth ones. 

His lips would move languidly across yours like he was savoring the feeling. His hands would also rise and hold your face so you couldn’t escape the onslaught of his kisses. And the few times that the gloss was indeed flavored, he’d make sure to finish with a swipe of his tongue to the point a string of saliva would connect your lips together before your giggles started sounding off at the sight of his lips covered in sparkles or stained dark pink. 

A boy would hate the fact, but Jack was a man, and he wore the color with pride. 

_______________________

“Brother, you got a little something, riigghhttt there,” Robby drew out while poking Jack in the cheek before handing it over his friend. “Second thought, I think it’s doing something to bring out the rosiness of your cheeks.” 

Jack smacked his hand away. “Knock it off. I thought you’d be out of here by now?” 

Robby shook his head and chuckled. “You should know by now that I haven’t left on time in years.” He leaned against the nurses’ station. “Is that a new color? Pretty sure we saw this shade two weeks ago.” 

“Can’t ever have enough shades,” Jack repeated from the multiple times you had told him the same. “But yeah, it’s a new one. There was a summer drop, and you know how she gets.” 

And he did after witnessing the near meltdown of the 2025 Rhode summer launch that you thought you had missed out on before Jack casually mentioned he’d been able to get every single product while Robby sat in the chair chuckling the entire time. 

“Did you say summer drop?” Victoria’s voice suddenly sounded, pitch a bit too loud for someone coming down after twelve straight hours of traumas after traumas. 

The corner of Jack’s lips twitched into a smirk. “My partner’s very into those. Between the two of us, we spent a minimum of $400 just to get that damned towel.” 

And it wasn’t even pink Jack thought. But a summer drop was a summer drop. 

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you talking about the Rhode drop?” 

“Yeah. Next week’s the popup in New England, and thankfully it happens on my day off.  I don’t want to think what would happen if we failed to get a hoodie.” 

“Damn, Dr. Abbot,” she said, jaw dropping slightly. “I didn’t expect you to be someone so into makeup.” 

Jack looked up from the tablet in his hands with furrowed brows. “Huh?” 

Because to Jack, anything you were into swiftly became everything he was into. By himself, he didn’t have a lot of interests outside of the ER and some yoga he did in the mornings. You’d brought a fresh air to his life with your hot Pilates on the weekends and your farmers markets and movie watching and book reading that included matching Kindles. So for Victoria to be confused as to why he knew exactly when the next Rhode pop-up would be, his chest flared with a feeling of invalidation. 

Victoria must have picked up on his inner turmoil by the face he was making because she quickly backtracked. “Oh, uh, that wasn’t meant to be a negative thing, Dr. Abbot. I just mean that a lot of guys really aren’t into something like that. So it’s kind of refreshing to see.” 

“I see.” Jack turned back to the tablet. “It’s a good thing I’m not being piled in with the rest of the male population.” 

“So,” Victoria began again, now looking like she wanted to delve into Jack’s personal life. “I’m guessing your girlfriend likes lip gloss?” 

Robby answered for her with a large smile. “You have no idea.” 

“Who has no idea?” Trinity asked on her way out. However, she paused and smirked at the sight of the glossy kiss-shaped splotch on Jack’s cheek that he hadn’t wiped off. “Ooooo, Dr. Abbot, you got something—” 

“Thank you, Santos,” Jack gruffly said. “I’m very well aware that I have something on my cheek. And I’d prefer that everyone stopped pointing it out. If I wanted it gone, I would have wiped it off when I noticed it before I got out of my car.” 

Jack paused. He’d said too much, and he knew that Victoria and Trinity caught on it.

“Wait,” Trinity said, “does your girlfriend come to work with you? Does she work in the Pitt?” 

Victoria looked around with wide eyes like she’d be able to find something hidden in plain sight. “Is she here?”  

“I wonder if she knows Dr. Barbie. She also likes lip gloss.” 

Robby looked over at Jack knowingly. 

The two girls, despite their excitedness, had made a few errors. 

Jack had said partner, and they clung to the idea that he had a girlfriend. But if the absolute rock of a diamond he put on your finger followed by that thin band had anything to say about it, you were far from being woman who deserved the juvenile title of girlfriend. Plus, much to contrary belief and your affinity for all thinks pink, you were only five years his junior. He absolutely loved the way you now wore your hair with gray licking at your roots. 

Second mistake was automatically thinking you worked in the Pitt. Even if you’d worked in an ER well before meeting Jack, you’d shuffled departments around until you ended up specializing in pediatrics to help your reign in your small bouts of baby fever after deciding that children weren’t something you ultimately wanted in life. 

Yet, that didn’t mean you weren’t unknown in the Pitt. To his knowledge, the younger kids had started calling you Dr. Barbie because of the number of pink scrubs you wore into work. 

See, just another bit of pink that Jack welcomed into your shared home. 

They knew you were married, often opting to let your ring flash as you walked through. So the idea of Jack having a girlfriend while you had a full husband meant that they didn’t make the connection. 

Well, that was until the elevator dinged and you stepped out, pinks scrubs, hair falling in those beautiful curls you got with an over-night curler, and, most importantly, lips shining with your first gloss of the day. 

“Dr. Barbie is so pretty,” Victoria mentioned almost dreamily. “Her time management must be insane if she manages to look so good all the time.” 

Trinity hummed in agreement. “If she wasn’t married, I’d be in line in a heartbeat.” 

Despite their comments, Jack smiled as he watched your eyes scan the room until they landed on him, and a bright smile plastered onto your face once you started making your way over to the nurses’ station. 

“Jack!” you called. “Just the man I was looking for.” You stopped right in front of him, mouth open to continue whatever you were saying, but you stopped, cocked your head, and narrowed your eyes. You clicked your tongue and stepped forward as you licked a finger. “Honey, you should have told me I left that on your cheek.”

It was as if all else faded into the background, and Jack quickly dodged your finger. “Hey!”

“Jack, just stay still for one second.” 

He caught your outstretched hand. “Knock it off.” 

“I can’t let you go the entire night walking around with Macadamia Butter lip gloss on your face.” You managed to get your hand free and gently wipe the kiss mark off. “There.” You watched Jack’s face fall. “Don’t pout.” 

He sneered playfully. “I’m not pouting.” 

He was definitely pouting. 

You warmly smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll just come down later and refresh it, yeah?” 

Jack hummed lowly before he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in the middle of the emergency department not caring who saw. He ran a quick tongue across his lips after he pulled back. “Is that the hot cocoa one?” 

Your smiled turned into a bashful one. “I’ve turned you into a lip gloss connoisseur.” 

“It’s not like you have over twenty in the house plus the extra five in the truck along with the seven you keep in your locker—” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you giggled right as your pager went off. “Looks like I’m being called away. I’ll see you later?” 

He nodded and smirked down at you. “I’ll see you later for my reapplication.” 

You turned away and yelled over your shoulder. “Fig sauce is going to look great on you!” 

Once you were out of sight on the elevator, Jack turned around to see the shocked faces of Victoria and Trinity. His chest puffed out just a bit, knowing he had shown them at what a good husband he was. 

“Fig sauce,” Robby chuckled. “Man, you’re so whipped. I’ll see you in twelve for my reapplication, Dr. Abbot,” he teased while walking away. 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh softly until he remembered that Robby wasn’t the only member of his audience. He eyed the two women carefully. 

“I’ll get you each three glosses from whatever brand in return for your silence.” 

Oh, yeah, Jack Abbot was indeed a lip gloss connoisseur. 

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Bolin is the ultimate "heart on his sleeve" romantic. His gestures are a mix of golden-retriever energy, classic old-school chivalry, and a touch of dramatic flair.

The "Pocket" Hold: Bolin loves holding hands, but he’ll often just tuck your hand into his pocket with his while you’re walking.

Pipe Flexing: Bolin definitely "flexes his pipes" (biceps) when you’re around, hoping you’ll notice and maybe give them a little squeeze for "good luck" before a match.

Sleep Cuddling: Bolin is a heavy sleeper and a total "koala." If you’re napping together, you’re not getting away; he’ll wrap his arms and legs around you and probably mumble something sweet in his sleep.

Forehead & Hair Kisses: Bolin's a big fan of the forehead kiss—it’s his go-to for when he’s feeling particularly soft or protective.

The "Street-Side" Swap: Bolin's religiously consistent about walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street to "protect" you from traffic.

Foodie Love: Since Bolin grew up hungry, sharing food is his highest honor. He will always offer you the last bite of his favorite snack, even if it’s a rare treat.

Bad Day Recovery Kit: If you’ve had a rough day, Bolin will show up with your favorite noodles, a warm blanket, and Pabu (to provide emergency snuggles).

Personal Bodyguard: Bolin takes his role as your protector very seriously but in a cute way—like insisting you take an umbrella because he saw one tiny cloud.

Love Notes & Doodles: Expect little notes from Bolin that are hidden in your bag or pockets. They usually have a very earnest "I love you!" and a slightly wonky drawing of a heart or Pabu.

Public Declarations: Bolin isn't afraid of a little PDA. He might randomly pick you up and spin you around in the middle of a crowded Republic City street just because he’s happy to be with you.

Movie Night Rituals: Bolin will insist on starting a new "mover" series together where he is "religiously" committed to never watching an episode without you.

The "First Date" Re-do: Every now and then, Bolin will show up at your door all dressed up (probably in his fancy Nuktuk premiere suit) to "take you out" as if it’s the very first time again.

You're his drinking buddy and everybody knows it.

You're the sole reason he doesn't wake up in a forest after his drinking and victory nights. And if does, you're also somewhere passed out in the bush.

Being drunk, you two ofcourse had a few mini make-out sessions. Nothing serious, just a few pecks in the bush and maybe a bit of tongue

Its ordinary at this point, to be honest. I mean, everybody gives their buddy a few drunk mistaken kisses. It's normal, right?

Until it isn't.

Varka suddenly wants to go drinking way more. He notices it himself, but blames it on stress (he needs to lie to himself to feel better LMAO)

Doesnt notice it until the others point it out.

DENIES EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. Flustered as fuck while he explains to the knights that he did infact NOT tongue kiss you drunk in a bush.

Tries to pay more attention. In a way where he is trying to blame you for this "Situationship" and being like "Whaaat??? Me? No, you're the one making painfully obvious moves on me!!!!"

Might not even know about men loving men lmao. Imagen Ineffa explaining to Varka that men can have a relationship with eachother like men and women do. 💔 He had to ask Ineffa because he felt too judged.

Suddenly your late drunk alone nights turn more intimate, he tells you about stories that he wouldnt tell the other knights (including embarrasing ones!)

Sometimes holds your hands while at it <3

You listen patiently, still too drunk to do so properly.

Suprisingly enough, you're the first to falter after a while (Varka was too scared to make a move).

In the comfort of your own home, laying on his chest while giggling at his dumb and drunk jokes before whispering sweet confessions

You two fall asleep like this. When Varka wakes up he's like "Oh, he was drunk, fuck" but then he realized you didn't drink anything that night

Talk about an Ego death. First his (baby) brother has the audacity to outgrow him, now his boyfriend is twice his size?

Sae Itoshi's reputation is never going to recover. Fans all over the globe, the second their relationship is made public; comments, fanfics, fanart, "#who'sthebottom?" Trends on Twitter for weeks afterwards.

Doesn't help that the love of his life (you) is a total Angel. Heavy sports equipment that normally needed two people to carry? Carried. Easily. Tired after a workout? Suddenly he's getting carried to the car/bed/couch. Going to the gym together? Forget it. Sae will train for weeks to get up to a specific weight or goal, and Mr. Musclehead boyfriend waddles in and uses that as a starting weight. Sae's pride? Evaporated. His image? Gone. His current mood? Offended yet horny. (C'mon he ain't gonna pretend it's not hot.)

The first time Sae took his boyfriend to an event? Hell. Especially considering there's a good 20cm difference between the two.

Sae loves his boyfriend though, and he'll admit, there's some pretty good perks to being the shorter one. Namely he gets princess privileges.

Seriously, he does. You're running out of hoodies because he keeps stealing them then pouts when you ask for them back.

I imagine Sae, once he trusts someone, is actually quite laid back and playful. When home alone, he'll randomly engage in play; Tag, running around the House chasing you(or being chased himself), video games, board games, even cuddling on the couch with a book or some TV series neither of you actually give a shit about. He's still a teenager after all, He's not emotionless.

That said, PDA is still a hard no. The absolute best you'll get from him is handholding. Maybe on the very rare occasion he'll kiss your knuckles if you feel panicked or stressed.

Sae's arrogant personality is quelled only by his Himbo boyfriend. Seriously, it's hard being mad at a mountain sized golden retriever puppy.

There are absolutely step stools in the house because Sae can't reach anything, especially if his boyfriend puts the dishes away/tidied up a room/folded laundry/etc. Sae's pride dies a little each time he has to get that blessed stool out of the closet.

"God damnit he put the cups on the top shelf again I'm stealing his knees."

Cringed to hell and back the first time he saw a fanart where they "UwU smol boy"itized him. Never again. He didn't look his boyfriend in the eyes for a week.

Compared hand sizes once. Once. Never again. A fan caught a photo of it....he has never hated people more. (Especially considering the trending Hashtags the next day)

And God help him, the first(and only if he can help it) time Rin met his boyfriend. It was almost his 13th reason. Rin has been banned from the boyfriend. Shidou doesn't even know you exist, and it'll stay that way if he can help it.

Taglist: @sweet-cherub

⚪️》 The kindest and most understanding man to every exist. He will defend your trans identity with his life if need be. It doesn't matter how you dress or look, he will support you anyway he can.

⚪️》 It may take him a bit aback when he first see your himbo-ness in action but like all things he will support you. Even if it's supporting your dumbness, he got your back. Just expect him to chuckle at some of your lines of thinking every now and again.

⚪️》 The amount of golden retriever energy in this relationship might kill a person. Ukitake doesn't fall into being a Himbo he a bit too lanky and has the brain cells in the relationship. But make up for it by sharing the kind of heart any good himbo would have. Which leads to the golden retriever energy.

⚪️》 Very health relationship even if you're not a soul. He is so open about communicating to you about any problems the relationship might have, and you tend to just speak your mind without thinking making any insult in the relationship be dealt with before they could impact your guy's bond. Even if you're an Arrancar or a Quincy the relationship still somehow works out which makes a lazy captain a bit jealous.

⚪️》 "If only there was a handsome and so very strong man who could help me lift this box."

⚪️》 He says to a box he could very much lift himself. Queue you busting in from who knows where picking up the box to show off your muscles. Which he chuckles and complements how they got stronger and bigger last he saw them.

⚪️》 He is a bit lighter for someone being 6’1 ft which means he around 70 kg in weight. Still he is not used to being picked up with such ease as usual it takes at least two people to do so. But then came you fully lifting him with easy which is the quickness way to make him blush.

⚪️》 Speaking of with him dealing with a chronic illness for all his life he is more than use to dealing and using medical equipment. So he offers and is more than happy to be the one to do your T shots for you. Even help do steroids if you're taking them for muscle growth or transition goals.

⚪️》 If you have any form of gender dysphoria he is so kind and lovely doing whatever he can to help you with it. If it about something he physically can't do he simply holds you and gives you as much love as he can to help your mind rest.

⚪️》 He has always been a physical affection person, and he makes sure to touch you every now and again. He asks most of the time, but he may try to be a bit sly to squeeze some of your muscles making sure to apologise if he surprises you.

⚪️》 "Ah I do apologise I'm just always blow away to see how strong you are."

⚪️》 Some of his favourite moments are the quietest one. With him simply enjoying your space as he watches you work out to name an example of a quiet moment. Nothing crazy needs to be happening as long as he with you, he is happy.

⚪️》 Even if it's doing something dumb with you, he enjoys every moment of time he spends with you. The thirteenth division members don't always do the brightness of things, and he has gotten up to some silliness with his best friend before so he is more than use to doing something dumb.

⚪️》 Just seeing you brightest his day to see the himbo of a man he fell in love with. When he sees you in the area, he always comes over dropping what every he is doing to see what you have gotten yourself up to.

⚪️》 Overall you can't ask for someone better to be in a relationship with. Be it as a himbo, a trans man or both he supports and got your back. If you want to be the husband in the relationship he is more than happy to be the wife... the malewife in the dynamic.

~♡~

"But you're too comfy babe," kiri smiled before hugging you even closer. "Might never let go actually—"

His chest now touching yours and hands caressing your arms, you couldn't deal with the heat and your clingy lover right now. Katsuki not even helping the case as his hands let out tiny sparkles due to his sweat—you could tell he was being carefull with it though.

"Might as well explose me, dying because of the sun isn't any better." You sighed, finally giving up, your tank top now sticking to Eijirou's.

"Hm, no."

At his disappointing answer, you looked back at the redhead—visibly confused when you could see him thinking, the gears in his head turning. "Now what are you thinking about."

"You actually. If you're that bothered by the heat then why not take a cold shower together?" He suggested, not even waiting for an answer before sitting up and pulling your ankles. "To the shower we go princess!"

Both walking to the bathroom with you looked at katsuki standing up and looking for clothes y'all could wear without dying by the heat.

Maybe it's not that bad actually.

You blinked blearily, your mind in disarray as you felt yourself wake up. You felt slightly suffocated, your body incredibly stiff as the sound of a zipper opens and you came face to face with some sort machine that had an outstretched claw.

It pulled out a strange tube that was apparently lodged deep down into your throat, causing you to have a coughing fit after it was fully removed.

“Cognition assessment. What is two plus two?” The cheery voice from the machine asked you, only getting a grunt from you in response as you turned your head to spit out some sort of liquid.

“Incorrect,” The machine’s cheery voice said. “What is two plus two?”

“Four.” You growled out, feeling your senses slowly coming back at once. The machine’s voice continued in the background, talking about some coma while your eyes adjusted to the strange place that you were in before you tilted your head and flinched when you saw a pair of eyes looking back at you.

The blonde man stood a few inches away from you, his face one of surprise as if he were looking at you like you were some sort of alien.

“Hi.” The man greeted you.

You nodded your head, a little breathless. “Hi.”

~~~~~

“So you’re saying I’m on a ship called the Hail Mary, two of our other space comrades have passed and that I can’t remember anything about myself because I was stuck in an induced coma?”

You reiterated Grace’s talking points back to him, the man nodding with a sheepish smile.

“I found your bag though, your last name is Shapiro. Does that ring a bell?” Grace asked you.

You scowled, closing your eyes to recall literally anything that you could but growled in frustration when it only gave you a headache.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t strain yourself,” Grace reassured you with his hands hovering your body, unsure if he was allowed to console you physically. “I, uh, went through the same thing. The memories do come back but they come in randomly so you just have to be patient.”

You nodded, eyeing Grace’s hands that were still hovering in the air before the man awkwardly dropped them down.

You jumped in surprise when another voice bellows in the ship, giving Grace a quizzical look. “I thought you said there were only two of us on the ship?”

“Yeah, about that…” Grace’s voice trailed off before the sound of something rushing towards the room you and Grace were in got closer.

You let out a terrified yell when a spider-like creature came rolling into the room in a spherical container, the creature yelling back at you in surprise while Grace was trying his best to deescalate the situation.

“What the fuck is that?!” You pointed at the creature before reaching for a random piece of scrap to throw.

Grace immediately stood between you and the creature, his hands raised up as if to show you that the creature meant no harm. “Listen, I know this is a lot but this is Rocky. He’s from a planet called Erid and he’s also on a mission to save his sun from astrophage.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve watched The Thing, you’re probably not even a real person. I will burn this spaceship down, I swear to god.” You blabbered, still freaking out.

Grace tilted his head, a hint of a smile on his face as he chuckled in disbelief. “You know John Carpenter’s work?”

“Who is John Carpenter? Question.” Rocky said from behind Grace, the other man turning his head slightly to explain to Rocky about the movie.

You squinted at the two of them in disbelief. “Hello?”

Rocky made a noise before rolling his ball forward so he was next to Grace, the Eridian studying you and your defensive stance.

“Hello, Grace’s friend. I am Rocky.” The Eridian greeted you, his friendly voice somehow making you feel less spastic as you lowered the scrap that you were holding.

Rocky moved closer. “I am sorry for scaring you, will do my best not to let that happen again.”

Your eyes flickered from Rocky to Grace and then back to Rocky again before you sighed. “Right, thank you.”

Grace clapped his hands, a small grin on his face now that the panic had subsided.

“All right!” Grace smiled before turning his full attention to you. “Do you need help shaving your beard and cutting your hair?”

~~~~~

The first flash of your memories came back to you while you were in the lab with Grace, making you shake your head at the slight headache that came after.

“You okay?” Grace asked worriedly, sidling up to you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

You blinked a couple of times, turning your head to look at Grace with a grimace. “Yeah, just had a memory flashback.”

“What did you remember?” Grace lets go of your shoulder, before leaning on the table you were working with his arms crossed.

Your eyes dropped to his bulging biceps, wondering how a school teacher and scientist was built like a brick wall before focusing on Grace’s face. “It’s just a tiny bit but I apparently have a sister and she was supposed to join us on the Hail Mary? I wonder what happened?”

“Maybe you volunteered in her place? The other female astronaut that passed on the ship didn’t have Shapiro as her last name so…” Grace replied, theorising why your sister wasn’t onboard as well.

You let out a sigh of relief, although an unsettling feeling was forming in your gut. “I guess so.”

“How about we get something to eat? I know you skipped breakfast earlier and just went straight to the white board to check out the numbers for our trip to Tau Ceti.” Grace suggested, already reaching out and placing his hand on the small of your back to direct you towards the kitchen area of the ship.

You rolled your eyes at the other man, it’s only been a week since you’ve woken up from your induced coma and Grace had developed a need for physical contact whenever the two of you were in the same vicinity.

You couldn’t blame Grace though since he was alone until Rocky came along but even then physical contact was almost nonexistent due to Rocky’s inability to survive in oxygen.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “You stalking me now? I guess you can bring the teacher out of the classroom but not the classroom out of the teacher.”

“That makes absolutely no sense, are you sure you’re a scientist?” Grace replied to you with a flat tone, making you huff out a laugh before you nudged his side with yours.

You were surprised to see that Rocky was already in the kitchen, the Eridian waved his arm at the both of you.

“Friend finally eating? Question.” Rocky asked, making you roll your eyes at the Eridian. Both Grace and Rocky were two peas in a pod and they have been taking care of you ever since you woke up.

You liked that Rocky continued to address you as friend instead of your actual name, it felt special in a way that it was just for you.

“Okay guys, I’ll eat. You don’t have to baby me all the time.”

You eventually sat down next to Grace, slurping on some noodles when Rocky came back from his ship with his own food.

“Friend look upset when eat.” Rocky told you in a disgusted tone before shoving his food inside the hole that was at the bottom of his body.

Grace tutted at Rocky. “Rocky, we talked about this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning your head and laughing into Grace’s arm. Grace just sighing in response, probably wondering how he got stuck with the both of you in space.

“Oops, sorry.” You apologised to Grace, moving your body an inch away out of his personal space but raising your eyebrows in surprise when Grace just scooted closer to you before nudging your knee with his.

Grace smirked. “You know I don’t mind.”

“Whatever, just eat your food.” You retorted, feeling your face heat up. You try to ignore the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach for the rest of the lunch.

~~~~~

You were walking around the ship when you stumbled upon Grace and Rocky sitting in the dome, looking up at the screen of the flashy imagery of Earth and you smiled as you leaned by the entrance.

You managed to catch the end tail of their conversation with Rocky asking Grace if he had a mate and Grace replying about he had used to before his ex decided to be with a man named Mark.

“Rocky hate Mark.” Rocky replied, making Grace laugh.

You felt your lips tug in a small smile, somehow feeling good about Grace being single but you try to push that feeling away.

Not all of your memories had come back but you do remember your sister falling for another scientist named Martin Dubois and you wondered about their whereabouts, you remembered the look of adoration your sister gave the man and an ache settled in your chest.

“Does Grace think Friend have mate as well? Question.” Rocky asked Grace, making you tilt your head at the Eridian in amusement.

You rolled your eyes and was about to walk off when Grace’s reply stopped you in your tracks.

Grace leaned towards Rocky, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I kinda hope not.”

You didn’t stay very long to hear what else Grace said before hightailing back to the kitchen to try and process what Grace had meant by that.

Sure, you and Grace had developed a close bond but that was only because the both of you were the only two humans left on ship.

Sure, Grace seemed to be a touchy feely person and was happy when you were slowly reciprocating his touches but that didn’t mean he was particularly interested in you. It was just basic human needs.

Sure, Grace would always drag you away from working to have a proper meal together but Rocky was always present.

Did Grace like you?

Did you like Grace?

You were too busy doing the somewhat impossible math in your head of someone as attractive, intelligent and kind as Grace being interested in you that you jumped when a hand landed on your shoulder.

You whipped your head and took a step back when you saw Grace with an amused smile on his face.

“You okay? You were staring into nothing for a little bit there. Did you get another flashback?” Grace asked, his tone shifting something one of worry as he took a step closer.

You blinked at him before clearing your throat, taking another step back. “Yeah, just a memory came back to me but it wasn’t too significant.”

Grace nodded in understanding, taking a step forward and it made you a step back.

That made Grace pause, a confused scowl on his face and you gulped before Grace took another step forward.

You took a step back and it became a sort of dance with you and Grace literally walking in circles around the kitchen before Grace stopped to stare at you with a somewhat sad look on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?” Grace asked you, making you huff out a nervous laugh as you stepped around him towards the exit of the kitchen.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well today and I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

Grace was about to open his mouth when you turned away and left the room, leaving the man by himself in the kitchen.

You had a million thoughts run through your mind at once and you knew you couldn’t stay in the same room as Grace or else you’d ask him a stupid question that could ruin your entire friendship.

You didn’t want that, you couldn’t lose the last person you cared about due to stupid stuff like romantic feelings.

~~~~~

“Ow! What are you hitting me for?”

You were slapping Grace’s shoulder after he returned back to the ship from collecting the atmospheric samples near the newly named planet Adrian, once Tau Ceti, which was named after Rocky’s mate.

You pointed a finger at Grace. “Next time, wait for me before you decide to go prancing out of the ship.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ve done it a couple of times before you woke up from your coma so it’s kind of a cake walk once you’re out there.” Grace replied, removing his space suit.

You let out a scoff, your jaw tensing. “That’s not the point.”

“Okay, what is it then?” Grace replied, putting down the container that held the samples.

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “How about the fact that you could’ve died if something went wrong and you didn’t have someone to back you up?”

“Okay but I’m here aren’t I?” Grace softly told you, bringing your hands down to hold. His thumbs rubbing over your knuckles soothingly, making you huff before nodding.

Grace smiled. “You care about me that much huh?”

You felt your face flush before trying to get away from Grace but the man laughed, strengthening his hold on you.

“I care that you’re the only one capable of piloting the ship.” You looked up at him defiantly, not giving in to his teasing.

Grace tilted his head, smiling down at you before squeezing your hands once and letting go. He made a move to bend down and pick up the samples but stopped when your hand suddenly shot out and held his wrist.

Grace looked back at you in confusion, making you roll your eyes at him before dragging him back up to you and cupping his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Grace lets out a surprised noise at the back of his throat before sighing into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours.

It was gentle. The way Grace’s hands wrapped themselves around your middle to bring you closer to him, his tongue prodding at your lips and letting out a moan when you let his tongue slip in to tangle with your own.

The both of you were getting lost in each other’s lips, the spark between the both of you finally lighting up with each touch.

“Why are Grace and Friend eating each other’s faces? Question.”

You and Grace suddenly jumped away from each other, turning to see Rocky staring at the both of you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at getting caught by an extraterrestrial life form, hiding your face in Grace’s chest while the other man’s hand rubbed the back of your head soothingly as he tried to explain the way humans romantically do things.

“Okay, we should test out the samples with the astrophage that we do have and see what causes them to die on Adrian’s atmosphere.” Grace said, getting a nod from you in response before capturing your lips with his again.

You made a noise of disapproval, breaking the kiss to glare at Grace. “Enough of that, we need to start working.”

“But your lips are so addictive, I can’t help it.” Grace whined leaning again but you stopped him by putting your hand between both your faces.

You cocked an eyebrow at the other man before stepping away from him. “You can kiss me all you want once the work’s done.”

“We’re two very talented scientists, I’m sure we can multitask if we put our minds to it. Isn’t collaboration highly recommended to get the best results?” Grace droned on, following you out.

You shook your head in amusement, you had created a monster.

~~~~~

“I don’t understand the need for these glasses if you’re not going to wear them properly.”

You mused fixing Grace’s glasses on his face with a smirk, the other man glaring at you halfheartedly before the both of you turned when Rocky started freaking about life.

The both of you quickly caught on to what he was saying before testing out the samples on the astrophage and yelling out in victory at finding out that Adrian’s atmosphere kills astrophage.

You and Grace followed Rocky across the ship as the Eridian happily chirped about having found the solution to your problems and that now the three of you could go back home to your respective planets.

You and Grace went quiet, the reality of the trip suddenly weighing heavily down on both your minds.

“Rocky, there’s something we need to tell you.” You started, seeing Grace’s expression shut down.

Rocky chirped happily. “Yes, Friend. Rocky now know you and Grace mates.”

“We’re not going home, Rock. This is a one-way trip. We had enough astrophage to get here, but not enough to get back.” Grace said, ignoring the sad look you sent his way.

Rocky suddenly went quiet, Grace’s words apparently hit him hard before you heard a sad noise come out of the Eridian. “So what happens, Grace and Friend. Question.”

Grace waved his hand. “Oh we’ve got enough food to last us a couple of years.”

You nodded, sidling up to Grace. The other man wrapping a hand around your waist and squeezing you as support.

“So, Grace and Friend die? Question.” Rocky asked, his voice sounded a little panicked and it made your heart break.

Grace nodded. “Yeah, once we’re done. The both of us are going to die.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rocky asked sullenly, forcing you to swallow down a sob that was slowly bubbling up.

Grace shook his head, glancing at you. “It must’ve slipped our minds while we were doing everything else.”

“No,” Rocky fought back. “Grace said Grace go home.”

Grace sighed, releasing your waist before crouching towards Rocky. “Listen.”

“No.” Rocky retorted.

“Listen.” Grace replied.

“No.” Rocky told him.

“Listen,” Grace tried again, Rocky now quiet as the both of them faced each other. “I got to meet you. I got to do all this amazing stuff and I’m probably going to die with the love of my life. I’m good.”

You hid your mouth behind your hand, trying your best to keep it in together and you wondered how Grace was able to get through the tough conversation.

Maybe delivering bad news was part of the job as a teacher.

“He and I have made our peace with it.” Grace pointed back at you as he spoke to Rocky.

Rocky seemed unconvinced. “What mean? What mean make peace?”

“It means,” Grace’s voice cracked. “We know we’re not going home. We know why and it’s okay.”

Rocky was quiet before saying no when Grace asked for a thumbs up. It made your mouth twitch at the way Grace was trying to console Rocky despite the ugliness of the situation.

You bit your lip, keeping to yourself when Rocky told Grace that he was brave. The blonde man sighed, walking away with his hands on his hips.

You hesitated in reaching out to Grace, you could see how tense the muscles in his back were.

“How much astrophage you need? Question.” Rocky suddenly asked, turning his attention to you.

You sighed when you knew Grace wasn’t going to answer. “Two million killograms.”

“I can give,” Rocky replied, catching you off guard. “I go home six years slower.”

“That’s too much.” Grace argued.

“Rocky watch crew die. Could not fix.” Rocky told Grace. “Grace say Grace and Friend die. Rocky fix.”

You watched as the realisation hit Grace. The other man already tearing up at thought of being able to go home.

You walked up to Grace when he put a hand up to your direction, immediately pulling you in his embrace so he could plant a kiss on the side of your head.

Everyone was going home.

~~~~~

You groaned in pain, your head pounding as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings.

Everything was flashing red and you looked around in confusion when you realised Grace wasn’t in the pilot’s seat.

You got up from the floor, your heart sinking when you saw Rocky’s glass containment was shattered from the inside out.

Your heart started to pump crazily in your chest as you began running towards the direction of the medical bay, your mind still in disarray as you stumbled all over the place.

You gasped seeing Grace on the medical bed before your eyes fell to dark shell of what was once Rocky.

You stood still, shocked, thinking that Rocky was dead until you heard the sound of his usual chirping even though it was faint and weak.

You didn’t think twice before picking up Rocky and wincing in pain when his body started to sizzle against your arms.

You dragged Rocky on the floor, the remnants of his body leaving a trail as you let out a groan and powered your way to the open space of Rocky’s container that surrounded the ship’s interior before pushing Rocky inside and getting your arms burnt in the process when the ammonia touched your skin.

You watched as Rocky slowly but surely retreated into another one of his safety zones that wasn’t compromised before the Eridian fell to the ground in a tired heap.

You forced yourself to walk up to where Rocky was lying down, ignoring the burns on your arms before sliding down next to the container and resting your head against the glass.

Rocky chirped and you huffed out a laugh, nodding in reply.

“I’m okay,” You told Rocky breathlessly. “I’ll watch you and Grace, you don’t have to worry about us. You just need to get better, okay buddy?”

Rocky gives you a final chirp before going silent. You closed your eyes and gave out a sigh before feeling the adrenaline leave your body, the exhaustion finally kicking and knocking you out cold.

~~~~~

“Come on, baby. You got this, don’t leave me.”

You squirmed, hearing Grace’s voice before feeling something next to your body move. You twitched your fingers and heard a gasp on the side.

You forced your eyes open, blinking to adjust to the light that was shining directly down on your face before you turned your head to see Grace staring down at you.

“Hi.” You said to Grace, your voice slightly muffled by the oxygen mask that was strapped to your face.

“Hi.” Grace replied, breathily.

You tried to move but winced when you felt both your arms were stinging.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move,” Grace cooed at you, his hand rubbing the top of your head soothingly. “The cooling agent is helping you treat the burns on your arms.”

“Rocky?” You asked, remembering how you got those burns.

Grace smiled down at you, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “He’s fine, just knocked out. You saved him.”

“He saved you first.” You told Grace, getting a nod in response before Grace wiped a tear from his face.

Grace let out a tired sigh, leaning back on the chair he was sitting on. “I’ll watch over him, you just have to rest. I don’t think you’ll be using your hands anytime soon with those third degree burns.”

“So much for asking you to hold my hand then.” You replied, getting a slight smile out of Grace.

Grace shook his head before leaning his body towards yours. “I can still give you kisses so you don’t have to worry about that.”

You laughed, Grace joining you before a comfortable silence falls between the both of you.

You glanced at Grace and sighed. “I remembered what happened to my sister.”

Grace didn’t reply, his body bristling in response before giving you a sad smile.

You felt your eyes start to sting as tears were flowing down the sides of your face. “Killed because of a mistake.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Grace consoled you, rubbing away the tears from your face.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t your fault, accidents happen but I just didn’t think it was going to be that intense and now I have to mourn my sister all over again.”

“If you need time to process this alone, I get it. I’ll be here however you need to be.” Grace reassured you, making you smile.

You nodded. “I do need you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Grace smiled softly before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You settled down on the bed, squirming slightly since you still couldn’t move your arms. “Once Rocky wakes up, we’ll get out of here right?”

“Of course.” Grace replied.

The side of your mouth twitched. “It’s funny that this was also technically how we first met on the ship.”

“That’s true except you look way cuter now than how you were the first time you woke up.” Grace replied, making you scoff at him before the both of you laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Not all of us can be a muscled hunk that’s also a scientist.”

“Took you long enough babe to notice this physique, I’ll let you explore them once we’re settled with everything around us.” Grace told you, making you shake your head at him fondly.

You sighed. “You know even if Rocky didn’t have extra astrophage for us, I think it was pretty nice to find my home with you.”

Grace nodded, smiling. “Home is wherever you are.”

“Sap.” You retorted, getting an offended squawk from Grace.

Grace huffed. “You started it.”

You felt your eyes get heavy again, yawning slightly before turning to Grace. “Grace?”

“Yeah baby?” Grace sat closer to you.

You smiled at the pet name. “Make sure Rocky wakes up, okay?”

“Of course, baby. We’re not leaving him.” Grace huffed out a small laugh before pecking you on the cheek as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

There were still many things to do but you knew Grace was able to handle it.

He was the bravest man you’ve ever met.

*****

Author’s note:

My first Ryland Grace fic!

I’m so happy to be able to post this after having watched Project Hail Mary so many times in the theaters

Can’t wait to write more!