I LOVE YURI; reqs open

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

at 6am on a rainy friday morning your car comes barreling into the grover cleveland middle school parking lot. ryland’s in the passenger seat wearing his usual teacher getup, blue eyes scanning the itinerary he put together for the academic team’s trip.

it was pouring when you woke up, so you offered to drop him off before you went to work to keep him from getting soaked while riding his bike.

you pull into a spot near the school bus that’s awaiting his arrival and put the car in park.

“good luck this weekend,” you smile, patting ryland’s shoulder as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“well, im not worried about the team’s performance,” ryland laughs. “moreso their behavior.”

he’s been looking forward to this competition for a looong time. every tuesday and thursday he’s stayed after school for hours, quizzing his prized academic team until he’s sure they know every fact and tidbit there is to know about their designated subject.

he pops the passenger door open and steps out, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“call me if you need anything, i know you hate having the place to yourself,” he jokes, knowing you could use some alone time for once.

you smile and give him a little wave as he sprints off to hop onto the bus. he looks so dorky in his yellow raincoat, you can't help but smile to yourself when you notice that he perfectly matches the bus.

you’ve lived with ryland for a few years now. the two of you met at a coffee shop after you were stood up by a date. it turned out you had a few mutual friends and a lot of things in common, so you graciously accepted his offer to move in to the empty bedroom in his apartment.

you quickly settled into a comfortable routine. he’s a great roommate. always considerate, clean, and generous. with time, you became best friends who lived together rather than just roommates.

as you drive home in the fog and rain, you plan out what you want to get into this weekend in your head. you can’t remember the last time ryland left for even a night, let alone an entire weekend.

you could walk around naked, maybe blast your music, perhaps do some spring cleaning. ryland doesn’t necessarily have a hoarding problem, but he never wants to throw anything away, which is why the kitchen cabinets are bursting at the seams with collectible cups and plates that nobody uses. they’ve got to go.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

the workday drags by. ryland texts you updates on his adventures every few hours.

one kid threw up on the bus, classic.

finally, the clock strikes 5 and you leave to head home to an empty apartment.

you pause for a moment and think that maybe you should invite over the fling you’ve been entertaining, but you just shrug and make a mental note to revisit that idea later.

you ultimately decide to run yourself a bubble bath, order chinese, and drink wine. then, you'll see how you're feeling.

after eating dinner and soaking in the tub for so long that you are practically a raisin, you step out and slip into a silk robe and lingerie set that you never wear.

it’s not like you have anyone to wear it for, and it’s definitely a little risqué for everyday wear.

you smile in the mirror. maybe it’s the 2 glasses of wine that you've chugged or the way your cheeks are flushed from the hot bath, but you look really good.

delighted, you prance to the kitchen to start your cleaning. the wine is making the task much more fun, and it’s keeping you from thinking about how upset ryland may be at you for throwing so much stuff away.

after awhile, you place the box full of throwaway dishes in the corner of the laundry room. out of sight, out of mind!

the wine is officially getting to your head now and you have half a mind to call that hinge date to come over.

you waltz to your bedroom and lie back on the bed, pondering your next move.

maybe you’ll just send a flirty text. you'd been chatting earlier anyways, what's the harm? you’ve been on a few dates over the past two months and fooled around a handful of times, it’s not like it would be too bold.

so you take a picture of your chest, one hand squeezing yourself through the lacy bra beneath your silk robe.

you giggle and close one eye as you press send along with a message.

“thinking about you.”

you put your phone on the nightstand, awaiting a response. maybe they will come over and you can finally seal the deal!

but after awhile, your phone never buzzes. in the meantime, you've picked up a book, trying to distract yourself while waiting for a response.

you glance at the clock on your bedside table.

it’s been nearly 45 minutes!

you pick up your phone, opening it back up to the text stream.

your heart jumps up into your throat, jesus fucking christ.

you sent that to ryland.

and he read it.

read 9:45pm.

it’s 10. he saw it 15 minutes ago and didn’t say anything.

mortified, you frantically start typing out a message.

but then you see him typing, so you stop.

“yeah? what exactly are you thinking about?”

you squeal and throw your phone across the bed. no way he just asked that.

then you feel it start buzzing. someone is calling you.

and of course when you pick up the phone with shaking hands you see that it's ryland's contact lighting up the screen.

you answer.

“h-hello?”

“that wasn’t for me, was it?” he asks, teasing. you can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly entertained.

“no, im so so sorry! i was-”

but he cuts you off.

“i know it wasn’t for me, but i liked it. it definitely made me wish it were for me.”

your mouth falls open. “ryland,” you whisper breathily.

you hear what sounds like sheets ruffling from his end of the line. he must be in bed.

“what?” he asks, voice low.

and you realize how hot your body is. not from embarrassment or shame anymore, but from want. hearing his voice on the phone, knowing he saw the picture you sent him. it’s making you dizzy.

“are you alone?” you ask.

“yes.”

“i miss you,” you admit.

“i miss you too,” he laughs. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we can pretend you never sent me that picture if you want.”

“no no no,” you quickly gasp. “it wasn’t for you, but im glad it went to you instead.”

“yeah?” he rasps.

“mhm,” you hum. “i-i want you to see me like that.”

“like what, sweetheart?” he groans, “use your words, tell me what you want me to see.”

you’re officially lightheaded. head spinning with thoughts of your best friend, your roommate, seeing you bare before him.

“want you to see me naked, want you to touch me,” you admit.

you hear him take a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale.

you back arches off the bed as you trail your hand down to the waistband of your underwear. your fingers toy with the fabric there, not daring to push beneath it yet.

“i want to see and touch you too. you have no idea how long i have wanted to. and-and i am not trying to sound like a creep, i promise i am not a pervert," he stops himself before he can keep rambling and back tracking.

he pauses for a second, not sure what to say next. then, he finally asks, “well, do the bottoms match?”

you nod, then realize that he can’t see you through the phone, so you mutter a quiet yes.

“wanna see them too,” he says softly.

you hear his sheets rustling again.

you snap a pic. on your back, one hand slipped into your panties, back arching slightly off the bed, and send it to him.

you hear him whine a little when he receives it.

“you’re unreal,” he gasps. “listen, honey. im sorry, but i don’t want this to be our first…encounter.”

you whine, “no-no, please. i don’t mind. please keep talking to me.”

but he’s so old fashioned. you know that he won’t budge on this.

“i’ll be home sunday, try to control yourself," he orders.

you groan in frustration.

“i know, i know,” he sympathizes. “and don’t send anyone else any pictures, you’re all mine now. if you want to be, that is.”

“i do. goodnight, ry.”

“good, i'm glad. i’ll see you sunday, sleep tight,” he whispers.

and the line goes dead.

☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

it's 7:30am on a beautifully sunny sunday when your car skids back into the grover cleveland lot. your hands are trembling, anticipation looming in your belly.

you watch ryland step off the bus and help the kids with their luggage. he sees you and waves, smiling brightly.

after a few minutes, all the kids have left with their guardians, and ryland begins making his way across the parking lot to you.

he's wearing a grover cleveland middle school sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. he looks so cozy, it makes your heart swell.

he yanks the car door open and climbs in, settling in with his duffle bag in his lap.

he looks over at you, blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight that's cascading through the windshield.

"we won!" he smiles.

of course that's the first thing he says, what a-

but before you can finish your thought, he's grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours.

you pull back slowly, eyes coming up to peer into his.

"let's go home," he yawns.

the ride there is nearly silent. luckily, it's just a few minutes.

the tension is thick, you feel his eyes running over your bare neck, tracing your collarbones as you drive.

you feel his gaze slide down to the swell of your breasts, which are situated behind a very thin tank top.

you feel it burning a path down to your thighs, which your pajama shorts are doing very little to hide.

when you pull back into the parking lot of the apartment, ryland hops out quickly and you trail behind him as he heads up the stairs.

"im gonna jump in the shower," he says, already walking in the direction of your shared bathroom

about 20 minutes later, he emerges. a fluffy towel wrapped around his hips, low enough to show off the beginning of his v-line. you're practically drooling from your seat on the couch.

"see something you like?" he smirks.

you nod and rise to your feet, then you walk slowly across the room to him.

you drop down to your knees in front of him, hands finding the hem at the top of the towel and sliding just beneath the makeshift waistband.

"yeah, i do," you finally reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

ryland groans softly as one of your hands comes to palm him through the cotton.

he feels big. way bigger than you expected.

"as much as i want you to y'know...i don't want this to be how our first time starts," he says, hand coming to tip your chin up.

"but i want to!" you pout, dying to get his towel off.

"go sit on the couch, i will be right back," he says, giving your head a gentle pat.

he trots off to his bedroom and you reluctantly rise and saunter over to take a seat on the couch.

when he comes back in a pair of grey sweats and a t-shirt you smile up at him. his glasses are back on and his hair has been towel dried. he takes a seat next to you and you turn to face him, sitting criss-cross.

he takes both of your hands in his and leans in to kiss your cheek.

"are you sure you want to do this?" he asks softly.

"yes, i am very sure. can we think about the implications later? i just want you to touch me," you nod.

"okay, but we are going to do it my way," he replies.

he drops your hands gently. his left hand moves to your right hip, holding as he moves back in to kiss you on the lips, his right hand coming to cup your cheek as he does.

he smells like body wash and toothpaste and he tastes like the chapstick you put in his stocking a few months ago at christmastime.

he deeps the kiss, the hand on your hip pulling you to arch into him. he hums into you when you start to push your tongue into his mouth.

"so," you start, breaking the kiss. "what does 'your way' entail?"

he smirks, the hand on your face retracts to push his glasses back up the slope of his nose.

"well, first, i want to taste you right here on the couch. the couch we bought together after a week of living together."

he leans back in, lips finding the side of your neck just below your left ear. his breath fans over your ear as he pants, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there.

he moves down to your clavicle, kissing right above where your collarbone meets your shoulder. his left hand squeezes your hip again, then slides up to palm your chest through your tank top.

he's talking into your neck now as he continues, "then, i am going to take you to my bed, if you want, and lay you down on the duvet cover you picked out for me."

he slides carefully to his knees on the floor, adjusting so you are facing straight ahead with his head between your legs. your calves come to rest on his shoulders and he presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

"does that sound okay?" he asks, looking up at you.

you nod fervently. he looks so pretty between your legs. his glasses are askew again, eyes heavy with lust, lips kiss-bitten and pink.

he kisses up your right leg now, moving from your calf all the way up to the bottom of your sleep shorts.

"can i get these off, angel?" he asks, fingers coming up to tug at the waistband.

you lift your hips and let him slide them off of you. he tosses them to the side and leans in to press a kiss to your hip.

with your panties still on, he presses his nose to your clit. teasing, he mouths at your slit. you're soaked, the thin cotton nearly translucent from your slick.

you push your hips forward, chasing the friction.

"i know baby, can smell how much you want me," he groans, his own hips bucking against the wooden base of the couch.

"let's get these off, hm?"

he slides your panties off and throws them somewhere behind his head. then he's on you immediately.

his hands hold your thighs, keeping you spread for him as he leans back in and flattens his tongue against you.

you cry out his name, clit pulsing as he continues to devour you.

you clench around nothing as he toys with your clit, begging him to touch you by bucking your hips.

"please," you whine, hands gripping his hair now.

he keeps going, licking long strips and sucking your clit.

finally, he brings a finger to your entrance and slips it in.

"f-fuck," he groans, his own hips bucking into the couch again when he feels you clench around him.

he adds a finger and pulls his mouth away from you. you feel his eyes move to your face, your cheeks turning crimson at the sensation of him watching you fall apart.

your eyes fall closed, face scrunching up as he curls his fingers inside of you.

"doing so good for me, can you come like this?"

you nod, eyes still closed.

you feel him lean back in and pepper kisses all over your thighs as his thumb moves to your clit to rub tight circles.

"yeah, i know you can do it. let go for me, thats my girl."

his voice is strained and he's sure he is going to explode soon. your whines and moans are going straight to his cock which is no doubt leaking in his boxers by now.

he crooks his fingers up just right and you moan out his name while you clench down and fall apart, the band in your belly breaking.

you ride out your high with ryland still gently curling his fingers inside of you, then your hips still and your face relaxes.

you open your eyes and look down at him. he's leaned back now, his free hand cupping himself through his sweats while he sucks on the fingers that were just inside of you.

you commit that image to memory.

"was that okay?' he asks, slightly nervous.

"are you fucking serious?" you laugh, still out of breath.

he smiles a big goofy grin, then stands up to reach down and scoop you up bridal style in his big arms.

he carrie’s you down the hall to his bedroom and tosses you gently on the bed. you suddenly realize you have no bottoms on, you’re completely naked except for your tank top, so you sit up and strip that off too. ryland is walking over to his desk to turn on his small lamp.

his jaw drops when he turns around and sees you fully bare on the his bed.

"you are not real," he groans. "where did those things come from?" he asks, gesturing at your boobs.

"oh come on, you've seen my boobs before!"

"no i have not."

"well you have seen them through all of my shirts! and you've seen me in swimsuits.”

"well i guess i wasn't looking, then. you know i am a respectful gentleman!"

you get a little offended, you kinda assumed he always thought you were hot.

he notices.

"okay, i lied. i knew you had nice boobs, i’ve looked,” he concedes.

you smile, pleased.

"i am naked in your bed and you are attempting to feign sexual innocence," you laugh.

"i am trying to be respectful!" he laughs back.

he sits down next to you and faces you. his eyes are stuck on your chest like glue.

"well don't be."

one hand reaches out to grab your hip again.

"don't say things like that, you don't know what that does to me," he groans.

you move a hand to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt.

"things like what?" you ask, putting on an innocent act. "like how i don't want you to be respectful with me?"

you lean in, hand coming to squeeze him through his sweats, which have a wet patch forming.

he lets out a shaky sigh when you touch him.

"or that i want you to do whatever you want to me," you purr, leaning in to kiss his neck the way he kissed yours earlier.

"b-baby," he whines.

you find a tender spot on the right side of his neck and bite down on the flesh, noting the location so you can return to it later.

"or that i want you to fuck me so hard i can feel it tomorrow?"

"that's it," he mumbles, suddenly moving to get on top of you.

he lays you back and crawls over your body, propping himself up on his elbows. he's still fully clothed, a tasty juxtaposition to your nakedness.

he moves to grind his hips into you, his clothed cock pressing between your legs. you grind up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"want me to take you like this?" he asks, hand coming to grab your chin.

"mhmm."

he sits back on his heels and yanks his shirt over his head. you always forget how toned he is, so you gawk at his abs a little.

he stands and slides off his sweats, leaving them pooled on the floor.

you watch as he starts to slide his underwear off, eyes zoned in on his crotch. when he finally springs free, your eyes nearly roll back in your head from want.

he looks so heavy. his pink, flushed tip is leaking copious amounts of precum. he's long, like very long.

he wraps his hand around the base and strokes himself a few times, his eyes heavy as he looks down at you.

"you sure?" he asks again.

"yes, really sure. god, you're so big, ryland."

he crawls back on top of you and lines himself up at your entrance.

when he pushes his tip in, your back arches off the bed. ryland groans into your neck, "so fucking wet for me."

hearing him talk like that, hearing him say fuck is crazy, and it turns you on.

he keeps pushing in, filling you up so full you see stars.

"s-so big," you mewl.

your legs wrap tighter around his waist as he starts to thrust into you. his lips are right by your ear and his breath tickles as he pants and groans.

"feel okay, baby?" he asks, starting to move faster and deeper.

you whine his name and a garbled yes as he finds a steady pace.

"still want me to fuck you disrespectfully?" he asks, pressing up to look down at your face.

"y-yes, please fuck me harder," you cry.

he readjusts you both so that you are nearly folded in half, then he starts driving into you.

"so pretty, i wish you could see yourself."

your eyes roll back in your head when one of his thumbs comes to rub your clit.

he's getting closer. he's spewing praise and grunting as he fucks into you with reckless abandon.

"so good, my good girl."

"all mine now, right sweetheart?"

"it was worth the wait, huh baby?" "yeah, i know it was."

“s-so fucking tight. i’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.”

he's starting to falter, thrusts getting sloppy as he comes closer and closer to the edge.

"ryland," you whine, "cum for me."

you look up into his eyes and that does it. he spills inside of you for so long. hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. you convulse around him, hitting your own peak as he wraps his up.

he fucks you through it, although you’re sure it hurts him.

when he pulls out, he pushes his spend back into you gently with two fingers, an unexpected move that makes your mouth drop open in shock and arousal.

you both finally look at rocky. with his carapace tilted upwards, rocky has one of his hands outstretched, seemingly waiting for his “tip”.

“a tip! when humans provide good service they are usually given a reward!”

“i—where’d you learn about that??”

“from (name)!”

grace directed his confused look towards you now.

“… i did talk to him about being a barista one time,” you sheepishly smile.

“yes, (name) did! was very educational! made rocky wish to participate, too.” he tapped his “fingers” together as a reminder. “tip, please!”

“wow. you’re, uh, kinda putting me on the spot here. you know, tipping is usually done with cash and we don’t really have any—“

“is ok! rocky will accept any item as a tip.” his arm stretched out further, eagerly waiting.

out of excuses, grace turned to you. “help?”

you giggle. “i think rocky just wants a reward for helping us.”

looking around the room for something, your eyes catch onto the whiteboard that’s behind the desk you were working at and notice one of the magnets attached to the board. you grab it and hand it out to the eridian, your arm and his stretching out further so that it transfers through his ball.

“here you go: for a job well done.”

rocky let out a trill, something equivalent to a laugh that you both decided to not translate (it was nicer to hear the melody rather than the robotic voice go “ha ha ha”).

“(name) is rocky’s favorite human! grace is not. rocky will spit in grace’s food as revenge.”

“huh?!”

you burst out laughing at rocky’s words, but you’re practically keeling over in your seat because of grace’s reaction.

“i told him that we’d sometimes joke about spitting or sneezing in our customers orders if they made us upset.”

“he knows you were joking, right?!”

“he just learned about knock knock jokes, give him a few days. besides,” you manage to calm down enough, still grinning widely at grace, “eridians don’t leak; you’ll be fine.”

“i guess…”

grace fixes his glasses, seemingly having calmed down now that he knows he’s safe until—

“rocky will find a way to make spit.”

you laugh again while grace groans loudly.

A red streak of blood on your hand from a nose bleed triggered the first mission-related memory either of you had. A sharp rush of pain fired in your skull, memories forcefully clawing their way to the surface. The blood was seared into your vision, etched into the darkness when you closed your eyes. The line morphed, slowly becoming more vibrant and curving into a deeper arc, small, pulsing lights appearing in rising intensity before it completely took over your vision–

You almost tripped several times as you rushed to find Grace. Your socks slipped on the sleek flooring of the small lab, before you almost crashed into the chair Grace was perched on. He jumped, instinctively pushing his chair backwards to avoid collision. “What’s–” He started.

“The Petrova Line!” You shrieked, and if you weren’t so shocked with the new memory, you would have scolded yourself for yelling that loud in his face.

Grace tilted his head, an eyebrow raised and arched high above his eye. “What are you–What about it…?”

“It’s why we’re here, we–” You cut yourself off short, huffing to youself before you swiftly pivoted and wheeled the lanky whiteboard over in front of Grace.

“Are we going to play Pictionary?” He chuckled to himself as you hastily uncapped the black marker–ignoring him.

You drew a medium sized circle in the center of the board, before grabbing the red marker, and added a curved line, connecting it to the circle.

“This,” You tapped the middle of the circle. “Is Star A. This,” you tapped the red line. “Is Star A’s Petrova Line. Petrova Line’s dim the Star’s solar radiation, eat away at the energy it produces—“

“I-I know, I know.” He grumbled, a flicker of annoyance panging in your stomach. Teacher’s too good to be teached, you thought inwardly, before quickly expelling the thought from your brain.

Ignoring him, you continued on. “But Tau Ceti, the Star we’re en route to, isn’t dying. Because…” You point at him expectantly.

Grace shrugs his shoulders, spinning in his chair. “I don’t…I don’t know. That doesn’t make any logical sense.”

“Exactly!” Grace gives you a look that you can’t quite discern. “That’s why we’re here! To find out why it’s not dimming.”

You can see the moment when the memories come flooding back to him. The way his pupils shrunk and his hands grasping at his temples gave it away. He nodded his head slowly.

“Yeah…right. Right, right, right.” He mumbled under his breath. After a moment of silence, Ryland suddenly stood and walked away, without much as even a thank you. Scoffing, you followed him down the lab hallway.

“You’re welcome?” Ryland pivoted, his glasses askew on his face, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“Uh, yeah, thank you. Sorry.” He said almost dismissively, before continuing to walk down the hallway to the cockpit, his gait faster as he turned the corner.

So, he’s a little cocky with science. That’s fine. He’s a scientist, anyway. That’s bound to happen—

Except he doesn’t really hide the fact that he thinks knows more than you.

It was a constant string of ‘Yeah, that’s not how that works’, ‘I can figure this out on my own’, and your least favorite, ‘Let the molecular biologist handle this one, ‘kay?’.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey! Watch the- uh, alien thing!” He yelled from across the lab as you inspected the rough textured cylinder he had collected from the large, alien spaceship that had sent it to you. You were just holding it in your hands, what was his problem?

“I’m just holding it.” You brought it closer to your face to inspect it further, pulling it away from the hand that had appeared in your peripheral.

“Yeah, but you don’t know what you’re doing with it.”

“Neither do you, considering how you’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out how to open it,” your voice now laced with a hint of venom and agitation. “You haven’t even let me touch this thing.”

Looking over at him, you watched him run an anxious hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands with the urge to have the alien cylinder in his possession. “Well, you have now—so can you put it down?”

With a scoff, you turned your attention back to the foreign object in your hand. Turning it this way and that in your hands, you called out to Grace over your shoulder.

“Did you try righty-loosey?”

-

Grace found you observing the little model of planets and stars that the alien cylinder contained inside a couple days after opening it. He had been…a little rude. No, no. A lot rude. You were just trying to help, and he was just completely shutting you down—god, why was he like this?

He pulled up a chair to sit beside you, raising his hands when you jumped at the sudden movement.

“Just me. Not an alien. I don’t think so, anyway.” He ignored the lightness in his stomach when he heard you laugh—okay, so you’re not completely upset at him.

You didn’t speak, instead your attention was completely zoned in on the little model of rods poking out of a metal base. He noted one of the rods had a special little nub on the end of it.

“So, uhm…” he wrung his hands together, leaning back in his chair when your head turned towards him. “Sorry. About the whole…thing. With the xenon cylinder. Thing.”

Your eyes fluttered, and he fought to not break eye contact. “Oh, you mean you getting territorial over your little scientific discovery of life outside of earth?”

He sputtered into a tiny, weak laugh of disbelief. “That’s not—that’s not what that was.” You giggled, and he felt the lightness spread to his chest.

“That’s exactly what it was.”

He shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “I guess it’s the scientist brain, y’know? Takes over, sometimes…”

You went back to being silent, and Ryland began to twiddle his thumbs in his lap. Did he say something wrong? Did you still think he was an asshole? But you were just laughing like it was okay—

“Thank you.”

He jumped at the interruption to his train of thought, his glasses sliding down his nose. He plucked them off his face and began to nervously clean them with his shirt.

“S-Sorry?”

“Thank you. For apologizing.”

“Oh.” So you were mad. But not anymore. Progress. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

You both smiled at each other.

-

Your relationship with Ryland had slowly morphed into less of a battle of smarts, and more of an actual friendship now that you actually would spend time together.

It started at first with you asking if he wanted to watch a movie, since he looked like he was dying of boredom lying in his bed. And eventually, it became routine for you to watch movies together.

Which is how you learned that, along with being a science nerd, he’s also a film nerd too.

“Did you know he actually broke his foot in that scene?”

“He actually learned piano so well he was able to just play it live for the movie.”

“Did you know that—“ a hand over his mouth quickly shut him up. His cheeks burned beneath your palm, and you pulled away like his skin was lava.

“U-Uhm, sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off.

You didn’t mean to cross any boundaries—especially once you guys actually began being friends! You just got so comfortable that you thought it would be okay, but the crease of Ryland’s eyebrows and the tug of his lips against his teeth said otherwise.

“No, you’re…” his head bowed down to his lap, head slightly angled away from you. “You’re good.”

The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the movie. You were, in fact, not good.

You had trouble falling asleep that night. You hugged the pillow in between your arms, using less as a pillow for your head and more for something to squeeze. Every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Grace’s face—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, glasses askew—why can’t you clear your head? Rolling onto your back, you stared up the ceiling of the Hail Mary.

At first, you believed it was just the pure embarrassment of crossing one of Grace’s unspoken boundaries, which, you suppose, is a factor, but it doesn’t seem like the whole reason. There’s something else about him that’s bothering you to the point that you’re losing sleep over it.

Turning onto your side, you catch a glimpse of Grace in his own bed on the other side of the room. His face was half-smooshed into the pillow, his glasses carefully set on the ‘nightstand’ (it was just a pile of spaceship manuals) beside him.

The crease of his eyebrows that worried you so had smoothed out, his usually clenched jaw relaxed as his mouth dangled slightly agape. His hair was like it always was, yet without one of his hands constantly running through it, the strands looked less tousled from his own doing and more tangled from a good night's sleep.

Your eyes narrowed, your sleep depraved brain trying desperately to figure out what about Grace was making you so nervous—

No. Not nervous. People get nervous around authority figures or crushes, or—

The pieces in your brain finally clicked together. Do you have a crush on your crewmate?

Eyes wide, you immediately shake your head, trying to dispel whatever illogical solution your brain had come up with.

No, you don’t have a crush on Grace. Anyone would feel something akin to a crush when you're trapped with them 24/7 in space with no one else around. These feelings are entirely situational. They have to be.

And, in the hypothetical that it was a crush (keyword, hypothetical), the chances of Grace reciprocating were astronomically low. He was always sure to keep a distinct distance between the two of you, which you now assume is why he got so uncomfortable when you slapped your hand suddenly over his mouth. The point is, Grace obviously doesn’t like you that way, so it’s best not to even entertain the idea of a crush.

-

After last night’s revelation, you became hyper aware of Grace’s existence—so much so to the point where it almost became suffocating.

Movie nights had turned into something you would dread. Grace seemed normal, but the proximity of your bodies seemed to be heightened to an unbearable level. It felt like someone was squeezing your heart, forcibly pumping it for you instead of letting your body do it on its own.

Anytime he asked for help around the ship or just simply called your name, no matter the reason, you felt a sudden tenseness surge through your entire body. Every joint seemed to lock at once, your knees tingling with a foreign sensation that you can’t chalk up to an unknown injury. You don’t have a crush on him, so why are you acting like this?

Even when he isn’t paying attention to you, you find yourself staring at him. When you catch yourself, you immediately look away and try to busy yourself with something to do, but it just makes you even more aware of his existence, and somehow your gaze always drifts back to him.

You’ve tried everything to get…whatever you’re feeling out of your system–the only constant you can recognize is Grace himself.

-

Over the past week, Grace has been seeing you less and less on the ship. The only time he's guaranteed to see you is when you both go to bed, when he can’t talk to you, or even look at your face because you started sleeping towards the wall.

You seem to be…avoiding him. Anytime he goes to approach you in the lab, you almost immediately grab whatever you're working or studying on and relocate to another part of the Hail Mary. He’s had to get used to silence once again, now that you aren’t there to talk to him. You’ve even declined all of his invites to movie night!

He’s losing sleep over it. He stares blankly at the sterile white ceiling above him, a socked foot absentmindedly rubbing against his opposite ankle. Has he been too overbearing recently? No, he can’t be, because all he’s been doing has been trying to not be a complete mess around you. 

He’s been keeping himself a safe distance from you because his body can’t handle the anxiety he feels when your bodies are too close–god forbid you touch him? His whole body feels like it’s shutting down.

His mind drifts back to a week ago, when you had cut his movie-nerd ramblings short with a palm covering his mouth. His eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, a little squeal escaping him at even the mere thought. Instead of playing it off, maybe joking back or laughing and continuing the movie like normal, his brain decided to short circuit and he made the whole thing uncomfortable. Is that why you’ve been ignoring him?

He covers his face dramatically with his hands at the realization. Of course, you’re ignoring him because he made everything awkward.

Grace rolls onto his side, staring at your back. He has to do something, right? He can’t just watch you run away from him and do nothing, because right now that’s exactly what he’s doing, and his relationship with you has never been more strained. He contemplates waking you up right now to talk to you about it, but decides against it when he hears you mumble something and twitch in your sleep.

He’ll talk to you about it in the morning.

-

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you sat up in your bed. You threw your legs over the side of the bed, stretching your arms high above your head—

“Hey, can we talk?”

Your head snapped towards the voice, seeing Grace standing in front of the side of his bed. Your heart drops to your stomach, and you hope you’re not showing it on your face—does he know about your feelings?

No, not feelings. You don’t have feelings.

Then why are you so nervous?

You don’t give yourself time to answer your own question as you suddenly stand up and walk out of the ‘bedroom’ with Grace close on your tail.

“Uh, I gotta…check. Some stuff.” You rounded a corner harsher than you had meant to.

“What stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“Not vague at all,” Ryland teased dryly, chuckling to himself. “No, but seriously, I need to talk to you.”

You felt your heart drop a second time, this time with more finality. “What’s there to talk about?”

You could hear Grace scoff behind you as you made your way to the lab area of the Hail Mary. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to appear as calm as possible when your insides felt like they were getting blown up.

“You’ve been ignoring me for the past week.” You shake your head in response, even though he is astronomically correct.

“No I haven’t.” You sit down in one of the spinny chairs nearby.

“Yes you have!” He practically squeals behind you–you would have laughed if it weren’t for the genuine frustration laced in his words.

You thought putting space between the two of you was for the better. And it is! Because if Grace even knew that you had thought about your relationship as something more than just friends–just crewmates, he’d be disgusted, and the rest of your lives would be awkward and strained as you floated in space with no one else around. He just doesn’t understand.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“You won’t even look at me!”

You suddenly feel yourself spinning in place, and you’re vaguely aware of Ryland’s hand gripping the back of your seat and his arm by your face, but you’re very much focused on Ryland’s nose almost touching yours.

You both just stare at each other for the longest seconds of your life, more eye contact than you’ve had in the past week, your eyes wide with shock and flusteredness, his narrowed in frustration and something else woven in that you didn’t really want to unravel.

Grace’s eyes suddenly widen as he realizes how close he got to you, his body immediately straightening upwards so his body wasn’t crowding over you. He runs a hand quickly through his unbrushed hair.

“S-Sorry, sorry. I just…I don’t…” He stumbles and stutters over his words, his eyes squeezing shut as he pauses. When he opened them again, the frustration, while not gone, had shifted into hurt.

“I just want to know why.”

Your heart, that had dropped so far into your stomach by this point that you assumed you lost it forever, clenched.

You blinked rapidly, trying to come up with something acceptable, something that he would understand.

So, I actually have a stupid dumb crush on you, so I just avoided you so nothing bad would happen!

Okay, dumbing it down makes you sound stupid. Like, really stupid.

“Listen, I–” you start.

“Is it me?” Grace interrupted, his head tilting to the side like a dog that didn’t understand why they didn’t get a treat. “Did I do something?” He looks at you expectantly for an answer, and you swallow thickly.

“I mean, a little, kinda-”

“W-What did I do? How can I make it up to you?” He abruptly asked, his hands open in front of him, palms facing each other. He looked desperate in a way you hadn’t seen him before. Not desperate for a way home, not desperate for a miracle when he went for a space walk. Desperate for your forgiveness that he didn’t know wasn’t needed. Desperate for you.

“No, no, it’s not–” you sigh, your head bowing as your hands dragged across your face. “It’s not all you.”

Glancing upwards from your hands, you see Ryland’s expression twist into something more akin to a blend of confusion and frustration. “What?”

“Now you see why I don’t want to talk about it,” You huff with a sarcastic laugh. “There’s no good way to say it.”

Ryland takes a step towards you, still sitting, his socked feet toe to toe with yours. “I didn’t expect it to be good, considering you've been ignoring me about it.” A small jab you didn’t miss. “It’ll be worse if you don’t tell me.”

“Trust me, it won’t be.”

“Why?”

“Can you just leave me alone?”

An unamused grin found its way to his face. “I think you’ve been alone for long enough.”

You shoot him a look, before attempting to roll backwards from him. His long legs stretched outwards, his foot hooking into the base of the swivel, pulling you back towards him.

“Why can’t you tell me? Can you actually answer that one?” You scoff at his condescending tone. You roll your eyes, looking off to the side in defiance.

“I’m not saying.”

“Why?”

You don’t respond. A part of you wonders if he learned this song and dance from his middle schoolers back on earth.

He doesn’t move, even after multiple seconds of pure silence. You can feel all the anger and embarrassment pooling in your chest–why can’t he leave you alone? Why does he have to be a stupid scientist and have the answer to everything!

“I’m not leaving until you tell me–”

You felt every emotion that you’d suppressed deep below, from a place you thought you couldn’t reach, suddenly rising up through your body like an active volcano milliseconds away from erupting. You unexpectedly stood up from your seat, an accusatory finger pointed at Grace.

“Because I didn’t want to make things awkward!” You can physically feel the anger wash off your face and be replaced with dread. Oh god. You beg to yourself that he doesn’t question you any further–

“How would you make things awkward?” He lets out a perplexed laugh. “I’m like, the king of awkward. I’m sure I could handle it.”

Okay, so he’s as dense as a rock. Great to know.

“I just…I can’t say,” anxiety filled the empty space that the rest of your emotions had left when you yelled at Grace. “It would make everything-”

“Awkward. I know.”

“I was going to say complicated, but sure.” You turned your head away from him, but his own followed wherever your gaze went.

“Nothings going to get better if you don’t tell me what’s going on. We’ll just be stuck in this ship avoiding each other until we die.”

When you responded with silence, Grace lifted up his hand, pinky outstretched.

“I pinky promise that whatever you say won’t make anything awkward.”

A soft laugh definitely left your lips. “A pinky promise?”

He smiled when you laughed, pushing his hand further towards you. “I never break them. I’m a pinky promise boss, I tell you.”

Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything. It’s wailing, crying, and begging you to just keep everything to yourself. It’s not going to go well, it is in fact going to be awkward– but Ryland’s charm and disarming smile pulls a willingness out of you that you didn’t think was possible.

Your pinky slowly outstretches, and links with Ryland’s. His pinky is bigger than yours, you note. You take a deep breath, lungs expanding before the deflate with a big exhale.

“It started during that one movie night we had–”

“Oh god, is that what this is all about?” He groans in embarrassment.

“Can you stop interrupting me?” He immediately shuts up with a small ‘sorry’.

“Anyway, it started there. And the rest of the movie wasn’t…the best,” You glance down at your feet. “We went to sleep, or, at least you did. But I had a realization that…” Ryland leaned in closer, and your pinky squeezed his a little tighter as your whole body tensed.

“I-I don’t know,” You sputter, your words rushed and almost tumbling out of your mouth. “I felt something strange towards you, and I got scared, and I didn’t want to make things even more weird than they already were and–” You took in a breath, your free hand death-gripping the fabric of your pants. You glanced up at Ryland, expecting to see his eyebrows furrowed in disgust, his lips pursed with unspoken words–only to be met with a look of unsettling ease.

Neither of you spoke, and a harrowing sense of worry began to claw its way up your spine. Ryland seemed to notice your discomfort, and tugged on your pinky finger that was still interlaced with his.

“Can I admit something?” You nod, and an easy smile spreads across his face. “I’ve been feeling a little strange towards you, too.” His voice, usually so bright, had turned soft and hushed–like what he was saying was a secret between you and him, even when you’re the only ones on the Hail Mary.

“You…you have?” You wanted to punch yourself at how desperate you sounded, but you were too busy trying to comprehend the idea of Ryland actually liking you.

“Yeah. Yeah I have.” He bit the inside of his cheek, his pinky retracting from yours. You frowned at the loss, but it quickly disappeared when his touch returned, in the form of him holding your hands.

“Do you wanna…feel strange towards each other, together this time?” He asked with a lopsided grin, and you felt yourself smiling back before you made the conscious decision to.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Without words, he began to lead you through the Hail Mary, his grip on your hand firm and warm. Was he always warm?

You both sat down on the metal plating, surrounded by screens. Ryland put on a movie that you had added to your ‘to watch’ list, and, hesitantly, yawned and draped his arm over your shoulders. You leaned towards his body, and finally, you understand that awkward doesn’t have to be awkward.