Cee!!

///

You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision.

The taumoeba samples remained unmoving in their petri dishes. You could only hope that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. Growing. Adapting. Whatever.

You didn't actually need to watch the samples. There wasn't much to do with them other than to monitor their environment every few hours. But you didn't want to leave just yet. Too much rested on the success of these little buggers.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, rubbing the dry, burning feeling away. Your elbows thudded faintly against the desk when you rested your weight on them.

"Hey, can you come here for a sec?" Ryland called from somewehere to your left.

You turned your head, squishing your cheek against your palms. "Whh-?"

"Get over here." He sounded like he was laughing.

When you peeled your eyes open, he was straightening on his stool and tucking a pen behind his ear.

"What is it?" You mumbled, unwilling to move any more than absolutely necessary.

"Come on, lazybones."

You puffed your cheeks out, exhaling sharply in a raspberry. "Yeah, fine."

Ryland extended an arm towards you as you approached, and looped it around your lower back when you were within reach. He pulled you in, placing you to stand between his legs and leaning you back against the desk behind you.

"This is cozy." You raised an eyebrow.

Ryland just smiled, and raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers in the air.

You felt your heart stutter. "Whoa - hey. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Ryland raised his eyebrows in mock confusion, corners of his mouth drooping. "Why would anything be going on?" He shot his hand out towards your abdomen, pulling back at the last second before he made contact.

You flinched hard, your own hands coming up in front of you protectively.

"Wait!" You yelped.

"Wait for what?" Ryland was smiling openly now. "I'm not doing anything."

"You are!"

"What am I doing?" He lunged again, angling to a slightly different spot, grinning wide when you squeaked, and flinched again.

"You know what you're-" Another lunge towards you, another flinch, and you slapped at the top of his hand. "- stop it!"

"'Stop it'!" Ryland mimicked with a chuckle, waving his hand this way and that slowly while wiggling his fingers again.

"That's not what I sound like!" You huffed, and tried swatting at him again. "And don't do that."

"Still don't know what it is that I'm supposedly doing here." Ryland looked at you over his glasses and, mercifully, dropped his hand. It rested on top of his thigh, fingers curled loosely and completely relaxed. The arm around your lower back, however, tightened when he felt you shift.

"Ryland," you used your thumb and forefinger to squeeze at your temples. "I'm tired, and I'm supposed to be watching the samples, because we have no idea what we're doing, and if this goes to shit we've got nothing."

"Tired?" Ryland said, and something in his voice made you lower your hand to look at him.

He released his hold on you, but braced his knees tighter on either side of you instead. Then he brought his palms together and rubbed them rapidly a few times, like he was trying to warm up.

"Clear!" He called out, and before you could voice your confusion, he tasered both hands into your ribs. "Bzzt!"

You yelped, bending hard at the waist and nearly knocking your head into Ryland's.

"What the hell?!" You demanded, laughter bubbling in your chest. You squashed it down. "What are you doing?"

"I'm resusitating you." Ryland said, rubbing his palms together again.

"No, no, no-" You gripped at his wrists, adrenaline spiking.

"Clear!"

"Do not- Ack!" You doubled over - again - choking on air and a yelp.

"Bzzt!" Ryland said, tasering your ribs. Then again. And again. "Bzzt! Bzzt!"

"Noho!" You gave in to giggling, jerking wildly with each squeeze to your ribs.

"'Noho'!" Ryland pitched his voice up into a silly whine, switching to scribbling his fingers up and down over your ribcage. "'Noho'!"

"What did I doho?" You asked, ducking your head towards his shoulder. Shivers crawled up your spine from the ticklish fluttering at your ribs.

"What did you do?" Ryland repeated, as if confused. "Nothing at all."

Your mind spun. "Then why-?"

You felt him shrug. "I thought it would be fun."

"Fun for who?" You demanded, attempting to twist away from his hold. Ryland wrapped his legs around the back of your thighs, hooking his ankles together.

The movement brought you even closr to him, and you braced your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance from being jostled.

"Well, for both of us, I'd hope." His arms slinked around to your back, scritching his nails around your shoulder blades. Your back and torso arched in an attempt to get away. "Gosh, you're such a wiggle worm."

"Mngh." You grunted concisely, grinding your teeth shut. Giggles still escaped you, though, and you tried not to focus on your rapidly heating face.

"What does that mean?" Ryland asked, grinning, then snickered when you hid your face from him by pressing your cheek to the top of his head.

His hands switched to pinch at your uppermost ribs quickly.

"Hm? What's that?" He teased when you broke into full laughter. "Use your words."

"My wohords -!" You said between gasps for air. "- are sahaying you're being mehean!"

"Mean?" Ryland feigned offense, then wiggled his fingers into your underarms. "You're not actually doing anything to stop me, though."

"I am!" Your hands gripped tight at his tshirt.

"Yeah?"

"Yes!"

"Clinging and giggling isn't exactly gonna help you."

At his words, you suddenly became aware of how tightly you were holding onto him. To try and prove him wrong - who were you kidding - you pushed yourself off of his shoulders. You pulled at his arms, still laughing, and a moment of surprise registered in your fuzzy mind when he let you.

It was short lived, though, because in the next moment Ryland wrapped one around around your upper back and locked you in against his shoulder. You felt him shift his legs to get a better grip.

Then his free hand tucked itself under the hem of your tshirt, thumb slipping just under the waistband of your trousers and lodging under your hip bone.

"Ryland." You said, arms scrambling to try and push off of him.

"Yes?"His thumb stayed unmoving, but firmly planted under your hip bone.

"If you do this I will never forgive you."

There was a pause, and Ryland seemed to actually be thinking over your words. Your heart hammered in your chest.

"Nah." He said finally, voice light. "You will."

"Grace-" Too late. The thumb dug in, and kept at it; wiggling, rubbing, circling.

Laughter burst out of you so sharply that you lost breath for a second, body simultaneously pressing closer to Ryland's and trying to twist away from his hand.

When your lungs remembered their function and you were able to gulp in a breath, it was so sudden that you snorted lightly.

Ryland burst into giggles, hand faltering in it's movements.

"Don't." You groaned.

"Oh jeeze." Ryland's voice pitched up from his giggling. "I've never heard you make that noise before."

You pushed up from his hold with more intent this time. Ryland let you, his arm sliding away from you, lingering down your back. No longer poised for attack.

"And you never will again." You said to him firmly, trying to mimic his best teacher-voice.

"Hmm." Ryland calmed down enough to stop giggling. "We'll see about that."

"No." You objected. "There is no 'see'. This never happens again."

"Mm-hmm."

"Sleep with one eye open." You pointed your finger at him, reaching your other hand behind you to unhook Ryland's legs from around you. "My revenge will be swift."

He dropped his legs at your insistent pushing. "I expect no less."

He was still grinning.

Huffing through your nose, you turned away to head back to your samples.

"I swear to god, you need to be taken down a peg." You muttered just loud enough for him to hear. You slid back onto your stool. "Or three."

"I look forward to it."

Your hands faltered over the taumoeba samples. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ryland reaching behind his ear for his pen, eyes trained on the papers in front of him.

There was a flush over his neck and ears.

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Come, it’ll be good for you,” you encouraged. 

You had started an exercise regimen (your idea) a week after waking up from coma. After the fishing incident, you and Grace were both severely injured and you had to recover, so you hadn’t started up again. And then, just when you were finishing up with saving Erid and Earth, Simon showed up, derailing your priorities. 

It was time to get back into shape. 

“Okay,” Simon said hesitantly. “I’ll come.”

You didn’t have weights on the ship, so all workouts had to be bodyweight. You’d designed routines all those months ago that focused on core, glutes, and chest/shoulders—the more important muscles for retaining longevity. 

There were differing amounts of pushups, sit ups, squats, lunges, planks, mountain climbers, bicycles…etc., for you and for Grace. As you cleared a space on the floor of the lab, you realized you would have to adapt the exercises for Simon’s one arm. 

Simon lowered himself to the floor. “What do I do first?”

“We usually start with push-ups,” Grace grunted, already on his first set of 12 push-ups. 

You got on my hands and toes and showed Simon the different kinds. “You can do it on your toes like this,” you huffed. “Or you can modify your arms so it’s a tricep push up.” 

“Will it work with one arm?”

“You’ll have to engage your core to keep your balance, and you’ll probably want to do it on your knees to help,” you explained, demonstrating. “Woof, this is harder than I remember. We must be out of shape.”

You watched Simon balance unsteadily across one arm and two knees planted into the floor. You used a gentle hand to correct his form. 

“Squeeze your core,” you murmured, your fingers passing over his stomach. “And try to keep your back flat,” you added, correcting the overarching in his lower back. 

When you felt confident that he had gotten it, you joined him for the rest of your set on your knees. Grace was finishing up with his second set and drinking some water. 

After he finished twelve, Simon collapsed down to the floor. “I can’t do any more,” he said, frustrated. 

“It’s okay,” Grace rushed to reassure. “You’re still getting used to have one arm. You’re really strong, it just takes time to get good at these things.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think I can do more than the first set today anyway,” you added. 

We moved on to a core workout, which Simon could get through much more easily. You and Grace took turns correcting his form so he didn’t hurt himself. By the time you finished, you were all sweaty and tired.

Grace grabbed water for the three of you. You wiped sweat from your brow. Simon was quieter than usual. 

“You okay?” Grace asked. 

“M’fine,” he said unconvincingly. 

“Are you frustrated because it was hard?” You asked. 

Simon shrugged. “It’s just annoying. I know I could’ve done this more easily before I lost my arm. I’m so much bigger than you both but you can do this shit better than I can.”

“That’s okay,” you comforted. “I’m not great at this either. Grace is much stronger than me. The point is just to keep ourselves moving and healthy on the way to Erid.”

Simon nodded reluctantly. He was still pouting, though. 

Grace scooted closer. He winked at you. “Hey Simon, I know a great core exercise you can do. No effort and you’re sure to be great at it.”

“What?” Simon grumbled, wary of Grace’s chipper demeanor. 

Grace moved quickly, sweeping a leg under Simon’s and pinning him to the floor. Simon let out a surprised grunt. “What the fuck—“

Grace pinned up Simon’s arm and clawed roughly at his tummy. “Laughter is a great workout!”

Simon let out a strangled yell, his face turning red. “Grace! Gehet offa me—“

Simon twisted his wrist out of Grace’s grip and went to shove him off, but he realized quickly that there was no way to get Grace off of him without hurting him. “DAHAMN IT- Let me gohoho!”

You chuckled at the sight. Grace’s hands were flying across Simon’s torso, expertly evading Simon’s hand. Grace poked and clawed and squeezed relentlessly, never staying in the same spot for more than 20 seconds. 

“Let you go? But you need the exercise! Did you know that you use up to 30 muscles when you laugh?”

Simon looked helplessly at you. “Dohohon’t just SIT thehere!”

You grinned at him and sat up. “Okay, I’ll help.”

Grace looked to you in mock betrayal as he kneaded his thumbs into Simon’s hips. The poor man shrieked. 

You crawled over and stilled Grace’s hands. Simon sighed in relief, huffing and puffing with residual giggles.

You tutted at Grace. “You’re doing it wrong,” you said with a cheeky grin. 

Simon looked horrified. “Wait, what—“

You quickly switched spots so you were straddling Simon’s hips. He tried to buck you off but you caught yourself on his chest. He was faced with the same problem as before—he couldn’t get you off without hurting you. 

Grace grabbed Simon’s wrist and pulled his arm up over his head. 

“Nonono, come on I thought you were done—“

You interrupted him. “See, Grace, the rough stuff gets him but he really can’t stand anything light,” you smirked. “Right, Simon?”

Simon’s face was fully red now. “M’not gonna answer thahat—“

“That’s okay, you don’t have to,” you said cheerfully. “I’ll demonstrate.”

You started to slowly wiggle my fingers up Simon’s ribcage, making a steady path up to his armpit. He huffed and squirmed from side to side, unable to shake the tickly feeling. 

“Nohoho- stop that, I’m fuckin’ seheherious!” He wheezed. 

Grace ignored Simon, pretended to be your very dedicated student. “Ahhh, I see,” he said. “So I should do… this?”

Grace used all five fingers on his free hand to tap lightly with his fingertips across the surface of Simon’s underarm. You continued to walk your fingers across his ribs, pausing to scribble at the spots that got louder reactions. 

Simon convulsed with laughter, his bicep flexing. “FUCK- fuhuhucking shit! Fuck! PLEHEHEASE!”

Grace kept going, but you slowed your fingers to give Simon a bit of a break. Simon’s giggles died down slightly. 

“Fuhuckin’… bastards, the both of you…”

“Well that’s rude,” you scolded playfully. “We’re helping you exercise and that’s how you repay us?”

“So ungrateful,” Grace chided in agreement. He was grinning. 

You rolled up Simon’s shirt to expose his tummy. As soon as it was exposed to the cool air, it quivered and sucked in as much as possible. Simon started to struggle again. “No- dohon’t, stay away from there…”

“Sorry, buddy, we gotta check that your core is activated,” you teased, starting to poke at his belly. You squeezed and prodded at the muscles. “All part of a good workout.”

Simon’s tummy flexed and bounced with giggles. He hid his face in his bicep and surrendered to laughter. 

Grace removed his hand from Simon’s underarm, sensing that he had had enough. You slowed down as well. You and Grace looked down on Simon adoringly. 

The two of you let him go. “See? An exercise you’re great at,” you ribbed.

Simon took a few steadying breaths. His eyes were closed. 

I look in the mirror, turning my head from side to side.

“Hm..”

“What wrong, question?”

“Nothing’s wrong- my hair’s just getting a little long. I haven’t cut it in a while.”

“Hair not look different to me.”

I shrug.

“Yeah it’s not all that much longer. I just get annoyed when the back touches my neck. It’s itchy.”

“Itchy, question?”

“Yeah. Human hair can have different textures - soft and smooth, coarse and stiff, thick, thin… I happen to have pretty thick hair, which can be scratchy.”

“Hm, Grace have bad hair.”

“Wow- okay.”

I huff, taking the shears out of the cabinet and flicking them on. Rocky flinches at the sound.

“What that?! Weapon?!”

“No! No, not a weapon! They’re just clippers! They wouldn’t put a weapon on the spaceship, Rock. This is used to cut hair, see?”

I turn to the side, eyeballing a rough cut of the shaggy hair at my neck.

It wasn’t a perfect cut by any means- even worse with my eyesight, but the end goal was comfort, not style.

A few tufts of brownish blonde hair tumble down my back and onto the floor. Rocky seems horrified by the sight.

“Hurt?! Grace hurt?! Losing body part!!”

“Nooooo, Rocky, hair doesn’t feel pain when you cut it off. People cut their hair all the time! Especially when it gets long and unruly.”

“‘Scuse me.” Simon appears, bargimg into the small bathroom, startling Roxy and me both. He reaches past me, grabbing a shirt he had hung to dry on the zero-G stabilizer bars near the ceiling.

“Yeah, see? Long and unruly, like this.” I tease, picking up and gently tugging a lock of Simon’s dark, long, unkempt hair.

“Get offa me, Astroboy.” He hisses, elbowing me in the chest, knocking me a step back. I snort, shoving him in the back, pushing him out of the bathroom. “Careful! I’ve got clippers! And you got in my way, Iron Man!” I chuckle.

“That one isn’t even clever.”

“Yeah it is! Blood’s made of iron!”

“Whatever.”

“60-170 micrograms per deciliter, baby.”

Rocky chirps with quiet laughter.

“See?! He thinks it’s funny.

Simon groans from outside in the dorm.

“Hey, your first nicknames for me were ‘Savior’ and ‘Angel’, and you didn’t drop either for days, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I thought I was dead, and you were the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes on a bright white foreign ship. OF COURSE I thought you were an angel! had just woken up from a coma!” Simon shouts, standing in the doorway, shirt held tight in his hand.

“Ohhhh welcome to the Confused Coma Club, Iron Man. Nice to have a third member! At least you didn’t wake up to a robot claw in your face. Would you put your shirt on please?” I snicker.

“Your shirt.”

“Well you’ve stretched the heck outta the thing, so it’s yours now.” I snicker.

“Asshole.”

“Language, Moon Fish.Hey, when are you gonna let me fix your hair up? Lord knows you haven’t done much with it since you got here.”

“I don’t want a haircut.”

“At least let me brush out. Pull it out of your face a little?” I suggest.

“No.” Simon grumbles as he turns to leave. “And for the record, you definitely got a kick out of ‘Angel’.”

“…Get out of my sight.” I click the clippers on and off at him a couple times as he walks off.

I roll my eyes, crouching down to collect the tufts, putting them in the waste bin.

“Why Simon no have to cut hair, question?”

“Because he doesn’t really care about it. It’s not mandatory, some people like their hair long, some like it short.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing the fringe back off my face. “I don’t like hair touching my face or my neck, so I keep it short. Simon couldn’t care less if he tried, so he lets it grow. Simple as that.” I shrug.

“Tedious. Tedious. Humans too tedious about appearance. Inefficient, statement.”

“Yeah well.” I mutter.

“’m headed up to the lab. Join me if you want to.” I say, placing the clippers back where I found them.

“What Grace working on, question?”

I shrug. “Got some samples I’ve been looking at the last couple weeks that I wanna check on.”

“Ohhh Simon Rocket samples!! Blood and metal!” Rocky chirps.

I grimace, shaking my head.

“Shhh! Rocky! …Ok, yes, those samples, but don’t say it so loud!”

“Why question?!”

“I don’t…” I peek my head out of the bathroom to make sure the coast is clear. “I don’t want Simon to know that I harvested samples from the planet and vessel that almost killed him!” I hiss.

“But… alive now! And okay! Should not matter.”

“In a perfect universe it wouldn’t matter. But trauma can make things that can no longer hurt you feel just as painful. And besides- he doesn’t react well to blood… he said it agitates him. I don’t wanna trigger him.”

“Why Grace get samples then?!”

“I got them before he told me all this! Look. I only work with the samples when he’s asleep, to minimize risk of exposure. I already feel bad enough keeping the stuff on board.”

“Then eject samples. Statement.”

“Through the airlock that’s as loud as a star exploding? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Bad bad idea.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know what else to do, Rock. I’m doing the best I can.”

-

It’s late.

And you’ll just have to take my word for it, since it always looks like night in space, but according to the clocks in the lab, it was well after midnight.

Simon had gone to sleep early, around 9:45, as opposed to his normal 11:00, so I spent that extra time in the lab this evening doing some work on the hull and ocean samples that I had - selfishly - retrieved from Simon’s ship during the rescue mission.

It was truthfully meant to be somethingto keep me busy during the rest of the flight to Erid. I wanted to learn about the blood ocean, the ship itself, what perhaps critical design flaws went overlooked, leading to the wrek, and maybe even figure out how Simon’s body was able to mutate in such a short time.

I could ask Simon all these things too, of course. But there was no use jostling trauma that was still trying to heal.

By the end of my session, the lab station was a wreck covered in specks of rust, drops and splatters of blood at varying dilutions that had escaped the pipettes I had been using to transport it from vials to dish to slide.

It looked like a bit of a crime scene. I chuckle, lifting my goggles over my head, setting them to the side.

In the last few weeks, I had come up with some pretty interesting results from the experiments and tests I had spent so long in secret running. I did wish I could share them with Simon, but the time didn’t feel right.

Who knows if he’d even want to know some of this stuff. Why did I want to know?

There was a bin in the lab specifically for biowaste, which is where I discarded my stained gloves. Although the blood from the ocean wasn’t technically from a human, it still counted as human blood. Finally, I wipe down the station, and begin packing up all my samples.

“What could you possibly be working on this late.”

“AAAH-! Cheez-itz! Where did you come from?! Why are you up?!”

I jolted, scrambling to shove the rusted metal, vials, and microscope into the nearby cubby at the back of the lab station.

“Nightmare. What’re you doing?” He remained unflinching, standing with my cardigan lazily draped over his shoulders.

“Nothing! Nothing important I- I was just… working on something for Rocky… that he uh… asked me to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm!”

“Something for Rocky.”

“Yes.”

Simon looked me up and down.

“How many times I gotta tell you you’re an obvious liar. Simon rolls his eyes, pushing past me with ease.

“Simon-‘ wait, hold on-“

“Rusty metal? The hell does Rocky need with rusty metal when he has xenonite?” He mutters, peering into the cubby, dragging the lab set back out.

I groan as he leans down, looking at thw small vials of red liquid, all in a row on their stand, each one a slightly diluted color than the last. The stacked Petri dishes, and wrapped microscope slides.

Simon scanned the table, then looked back at me.

“Is this blood-? Are these samples from my ship?!” He looked… very irritated.

I freeze, unsure of how to respond.

He caught on quick….

“I- uhm, yeah…?”

He gave me a searching look, taking a step back.

“How the fuck did you get these?”

“I- I salvaged them during the rescue operation-!”

“Why do you have pieces of my ship?” His voice dropped. Ice cold.

“I- I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be that… big of a deal..?”

“Not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah! I just- I just wanted to do some research on y-your ship! And the composition of-“

“You could just ask me that yourself, Ryland.”

“I mean, I could, but that would just be unnecessary trauma exposure…”

“AND THIS ISN’T?!” He shouted, slamming his prosthetic fist into the table. I clambered backward into a neighboring table, slamming my back into the corner of it.

“I told you specifically, in trust and confidence, that I NEVER wanted to see that god forsaken moon, the ship that was almost my CASKET, OR THE BLOOD THAT TURNED ME INTO A FUCKING MONSTER. EVER. AGAIN.” Simon shouted, bearing his teeth at me.

I cowered away, shifting away from the table, only to misstep, and fall backward onto the floor.

“I- I know, I know I’m sorry.”

“AND AT NO POINT, DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE WISE TO TELL ME YOU KEPT SOUVENIRS OF MY DEATH SENTENCE?”

“I- I thought I could do a better job! At keeping it hidden!”

“That’s what you’re taking from this.”

Simon stood over me, the dim, pale light of the lab backlighting his hulking silhouette.

“NO! I- I didn’t mean it like that!” My heart was pounding in my chest.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Seems spot on to me” I could hear every inhale and exhale from his lungs. 

“Please-! Please, you- just listen! I already had the samples before I knew a-anything you told me. I wanted to bring it up but I didn’t know how ithout upsetting you, I’m sorry-!”

Simon says nothing. I swear I could see his red eye flicker in the low light as he stood over me like a devil in the dark.

“I- I can get rid of it! I can put it all in the airlock and I can shoot it aaaall out into space.”

…

“Simon..?” I was paralyzed, firmly against the wall like I was trying to phase right through it.

Simon makes some kind of move towards me that I could only see a split second of before I flinched, shutting my eyes.

“No- NO-! ROCKYYY!” I shout on a broken cry, balling up on the ground and bracing for… something.

Nothing ever came.

I heave, still rigid in fear.

Enough time passes for me to be confident I was no longer in danger. I open my eyes.

He’s… gone.

-

I’m in trouble… boy don’t I know it…

know I’ve made a mistake. A ridiculous, moronic, dangerous mistake. And honestly, if he would have torn me into microscopic pieces for going behind his back like I did, I wouldn’t hold it against him.

So stupid! All of that, just to do some reaserch on a moon I’m never going back to, and a vessel that’s been pulverized.

I feel like a horrible friend.

It’s been three hours. Simon is probably in bed by the window, and I’ve sequestered myself in the dorm, frankly too scared to go up.

He wouldn’t have actually hurt me…

Even if something did happen, that’d be 100% on me.

Rocky didn’t hear me calling for him. He was asleep, here in the dorm.

I set Simon off, AND left Rocky to sleep alone. Great.

I sit up slowly, standing up off the bed, pacing around in a circle around Rocky, asleep in his ball.

At the very least, I can gather up all my samples of Simon’s ship, and toss it all in the airlock. I won’t cycle it, since it’s late, and the airlock is deafeningly loud, but hopefully it’ll put Simon a bit more at ease if I prove that I’m willing to get rid of everything.

I think to myself.

Yeah, that’s a good plan.

I make my way up the ladder, out of the dorm and into the main, long hallway. It’s pretty easy to sneak around the ship, since nothing really creaks or squeaks under foot.

There’s no light aside from the dim emergency lab bulbs a few yards down the hall, the light spilling up from the dormitory hatch behind me, and the hazy starlight at the end of the corridor.

I feel like I’m walking through a haunted house. It’s dark, I can hardly see as is, and I don’t have any idea where Simon is.

I don’t know if he’s asleep, awake, still mad, and stalking me…

One step at a time… my only objective is to collect the samples, and put them in the airlock. Easy!

I come upon the enterance to the lab. Staying close to the wall, I lean over, peeking in.

Simon’s in the lab…. Simon’s in the lab?! What’s he doing..?!

He’s at the station I left all the hull samples at. Craptastic. What does he want with them?! I thought he didn’t want to see them!

Maybe he’s getting rid of them himself. Thats okay too, I guess. He isn’t obligated to tell me. Those were pieces of his ship, after all-

~Creeeeeak~

I jolt- I had put too much of my weight on the open lab door, making the heavy metal creak as it slid forward.

I ducked away, my back to the wall I had been so desperately hugging. I closed my eyes tight, biting my lip, hoping, praying that Simon didn’t hear.

…

A moment passed. Nothing. Clear.

I open my eyes, turning back around the corner.

“Ryland.”

“AGH-! Simon! I’m so- SO sorry, I- I wasn’t spying on you! I was-“

He raises both his hand.

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing? Why are you creeping around the ship like it isn’t your ship?”

“…”

“You can speak now.”

I sigh. “I… I thought you’d be asleep by now… I was coming back to get rid of all the samples…”

“Right.”

“I’m serious!”

“You weren’t gonna just move them someplace else.”

“Simon.”

“You understand my hesitation to trust you right now, right? It was easy enough for you to lie to me before, why wouldn’t it be now?”

“I didn’t lie to you!”

“Lying by omission is still lying, Ryland.”

“Fine, yes, that’s… that’s fair, and I’m sorry! I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m sorry!”

“…”

“…”

“Did you learn anything?”

“W-what-? I I mean yes, I’ve learned a lot from this- n-not to just go and do things behind-“

“From the samples.”

My face goes a little red. Oops. “Oh. Y-yes, I did, yeah.” I mutter.

Simon stares at me for a moment, piercing eyes scanning my face like a laser.

He grabs me by the wrist, turns, and drags me behind him into the lab.

“W-wait woah-! Woah woah, what’re we doing?!”

We reach the lab station, and Simon shoves me down onto the lab stool.

“Show me.”

“…Show you…”

“Show me what you’ve gleaned from your samples.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-“

“Show me.” Simon hisses.

“Alright! Alright… okay. Um…” I tap my fingers anxiously on my thigh as o think of what to show him.

“Okay, well for starters, I know why your hill breached.” I say, reaching down to a metal filing drawer, pulling out a thick notebook, edges worn, with various corners of stray parts and sticky notes poking out in all directions.

I set it on the table, flipping it open, scanning the page with my finger.

“You keep physical notes?”

“Well I didn’t wanna risk you stumbling across the notes on the ship’s cloud drive, so I opted for physical.”

Simon groans.

“I l ow… I’m just being honest. Here.” I point to a paragraph on the center of the page. Keeping my finger on the paper to hold my place, I reach into the cubby at the back of the desk, pulling out a sealed, clear container that I’m sure Simon missed.

I hand it to him.

“That’s a chunk of the outside layer of your hull.”

“I can see that.” Simon groans,poking at the chunk of metal inside. It was a good sized piec- maybe about theee or four inches, square.

“Turn it over.” Simon flips the container.

“See the caked on blood there? Under earth.”

“Everything was caked in blood, what’s this supposed to prove.”

I stand up, looking down at the sample, and tapping the plastic of the container.

“Yes, but look. The entire bottom side of the piece is covered in dried blood. The bottom shouldn’t look like that if it were functioning properly. The outer layer wasn’t secured to the body of the vessel, and it was allowing ocean blood in between the hull and the body of the ship.” I explain.

“In space, a breach like that would kill you in minutes.”

Simon stares at the sample intensely.

“Rush job.”

“Rush Job. They just needed it done and built to send you down. It was a design error.”

I sit back down.

Simon is quiet for a while.

“What else.” His tone has softened quite a bit. He sounds curious now, as opposed to angry, and holding himself back.

I swivel back around on my stool to my notebook, flipping through the pages.

“Right, uh… nothing, nothing, nothing… a lot of obvious observations… oh! Oh…” I land on a page titled ‘Mutation’, and I sigh.

“What?”

“I uhm… I think I found what may have mutated your body, Simon.” I say cautiously. He stares at me, and I can’t read his expression at all.

“Okay, come here, look at this.” I slide everything on the desk aside, and pull the microscope forward.

I switch it on, and reach for a pair of gloves.

I spend the next few minutes setting up a slide with a drop of diluted ocean blood, and a very small sample of the only other living cell I could safely work with. A drop of taomoeba.

I close, and load the slide onto the microscope, and move out of the way for Simon to take a look.

“There’s something in the ocean blood. A microbe of some kind, and it’s aggressive.” I say.

“What’s it doing?”

“You see it? The little red cells?”

“Yeah… those aren’t blood cells..?”

“Yes, and no. They’re similar. They have almost the same composition and shape, but they’re poonty.”

Simon adjusts the magnification on the slide, zooming in.

“Has it found a tapmoeba yet?”

“Yeah, it… it attacked it. It killed it.”

“Keep watching.” I fold my hands in my lap, turning to watch Simon.”

“It’s moving again. The taomoeba. But it’s moving around kinda frantic.”

“Yeah, I observed the same.” I say. “The ocean blood cell attacked it, killed it, and replaced what was lost withsome e of itself. It mutated the taomoeba.”

Simon Stands up straight.

“That’s what happened to you. The microbe got into your system through a wound, probably, killed off parts of your body, and managed to change your genetic code just enough to convince your body to self edit.” I sigh.

Simon nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“I mean… it’s not all terrible, though. If you really think about it, if you weren’t mutated into something that could withstand the ocean… you may not have made it out. I may not have ever found you.”

I stand up, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“The mutation doesn’t seem to be spreading anymore, since you got here. Which is also a plus. You had enough healthy human cells to fight off the infection, with Armando’s help, so it’s not gonna get any worse. The ocean blood cells can’t survive without th right atmospheric conditions. Thats why I keep them in the vials- oh!”

Simon cuts me off, wrapping me in a tight hug. I stand there, frozen like a fool, unsure of what I’m supposed to do or say.

“Thank you.”

“For… what, exactly-?” I mutter.

He doesn’t reply for a while.

“Proving with your sneaky, annoying science that I’m not a monster.”

The words are quiet, muttered into my shoulder like something he was assuring himself of, and not telling me as a fact.

“What?! Of course you aren’t. You never were. You’re a survivor.” I finally bring my arms up, hugging him back for a long while.

With a deep breath, I take him by the shoulders, prying him off me, and holding him at arms length so I could look him in the eye.

“And look, I’ll still get rid of the samples if you want me to. I never should have hidden them from you, and if you want them gone, they’re gone.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, it’s better if you keep them.”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll even let you cycle the airlock yourself.” I chuckle.

“Angel, I’m positive.” He smiles softly.

“Angel? Why am I Angel again Not Gracie, or Astroboy?”

“Would you prefer something else?”

“No, just wondering.” I shrug, letting go of Simon’s shoulders, and turning back to the lab table. I grab a small cup, and a small squeeze bottle that I had lying off to the side, filling the cup about a quarter inch.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Killing the mutated taomoeba. I don’t want these little guys running around the ship. Already had one leak, and that was plenty.” I remove the slide carefully from the microscope, and dunk it into the cup.

Simon leans down over the cup, his hair falling over his shoulder, into his face, dangling over the cup.

I gasp, quickly reaching over, gathering his hair and holding it back. The solution wasn’t volatile, just some lab grade isopropyl alcohol, but a rule o always had in my classroom was to keep hair, clothes, skin, and jewelry away from chemicals at all times.

“Careful-! Careful- my god! How many times do I need to tell you to watch your hair around the lab!” I scold, holding a bit too tight, as evidenced by whether grimace on Simon’s face.

“Sorry, my bad- here let me…” I step behind Simon, twirling his hair around two of my fingers, and fastening it onto a tight bun. He didn’t seemed thrilled, but he didn’t fight me.

“There. Perfect. It wouldn’t hurt to wear some goggles… too…” I trail off a bit, walking back around to the side, as Simon looks at me.

“What?”

“N-nothing! I’ve just never seen you without your hair in your face. Looks good!”

He rolls his eyes. He did honestly look a lot different. The usual shadow cast over his eyes was gone. They were a lot kinder in the light - and maybe a bit tired.

“It feels ridiculous.”

“It isn’t, you’re just not used to it.”

Simon groans walking to the other side of me, helping me clean up the lab station.

“Oh- no don’t worry about it, I got it.”

I shake my head, looking up at Simon. I catch a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen before just as he picks up some equipment, and pivots to go put it back in a cabinet a few paces away.

“Wait- hold up. Back up. Come here a second.”

Simon sighs. He knows exactly what I saw.

“No, you make too big of a deal out of everything.”

“Correct! Now come here! You’ve got another mutation you weren’t telling me about?”

“So you can keep secrets, but GOD FORBID I do…”

I jog over to him, ignoring his jab. “Hold on, let me see!”

Simon rolls his head back in annoyance, before relenting. “Oh my god, it’s not that interesting!”

“You’ve got a fin for an ear! That’s incredibly interesting!”

It’s true. On the same side as the rest of his mutation, Simon’s ear had become something like a multi-pointed fin around the shell. The points were sharp, three of them, jutting out about two inches from where the top curve of his ear used to be. A r rib of cartilage held each point up, like the bones of a duck’s webbed feet.

The extension of the ear faded in an even ombré from the paling tan of Simon’s slin, to a bright ruby red at the ends of each spoke.

“That’s incredible! This is what you were hiding under your hair this whole time?!”

Simon takes a seat on the low lab table, letting me do my thing.

“Yeah, it looks dumb.”

“No it doesn’t you look like a dragon! You’re so tough on yourself, Si, jeez.” I say, still glued to Simon’s fin.

“What could this mutation possibly have been useful for…?” I mutter to myself, running a finger along the back of the fin.

Simon’s head lulls to the side, into my hand just slightly. It seemed to happen against his will.

“Yeah?” I give Simon a sideways smile, repeating the motion again, scritching with a bit more pressure this time. He tilts his head again, looking at me like I’ve put some kind of spell on him.

“No way-!” I laugh.

“I’m not doing anything! I can’t contr-ol i-it!” I scratch behind Simon’s ear with purpose, and he drops his head completely into my hand. And his leg starts to bounce against the ground.

I smile wide, laughing more out of surprise than anything else.

“Oh my goodness! You’re like a puppy! A sea puppy!” Simon tries to scowl at me, but a smile fights his way onto his face.

“C-cuhut that out, Grace.”

“You’re laughing! Does that tickle? Ha!” I experimentally run a nail up one of the points, earning a snort from Simon. He shrugs his shoulder up in defense.

“Haha! How silly is that?!” I lift my other hand to his opposite ear, scratching behind it the same way. He laughs just as much as he did with the fin, but without any additional movement.

“Ohhh okay, so you’ve just got ticklish ears anyway. But this one-“ I give the back of his fin a sort of rough scratch.

He lets out a high piched cackle, dropping his head to the side again, his knee bouncing in place.

“This one’s the ticket right here!” I snicker.

“A-ahahAHAhaAHA-! G-GRAHAHACE!”

“Yeah? Whats up, bud?” I lower my hand on Simon’s undamagwd side to scritch along the curve of his jaw. He laughs through gritted teeth.

“S-stoHOHOP! I- I’m gonna kihihill you!”

“Noooo, you won’t. Earlier if you told me that I woulda believed you- but you wouldn’t be calling me ‘Grace’ if you were really upset. It’d be ‘Ryland’.” I say my own name with a deep, gravelly imitation of Simon’s voice.

Simon shakes his head back and forth, slowly sliding down off the table. I follow him down to the floor, a hand on the back of his head to make sure he didn’t smash it into the table on his descent.

“Ok, floor it is. Comfortable?” I sit on my knees towering over his slumped down form.

“Stay- a-away from me.”

“Why would I do that, Siren?”

“Siren-?”

“Yeah, the dish fin thing gives you a kinda mermais, siren kinda look. And it rhymes with Simon, so-“

“Laaaame.”

I scoff. “Askin’ for it!” I say, bringing my hands back to either side of Simon’s head, skittering randomly all over, behind his ear, behind his fin, along his jaw, under his chin, and down his neck, all while making the most annoying ’tchktchktchk’ sound through my teeth, just to tease him, really.

“A-AHAHAHA-HAHA!! GOHOHOHODDAMNIT-!!”

“I would have never known your face could turn so red with all that hair you kept in your face, man!”

“S-shuUHUT UP-!” Simon puts his arm across his face.

“Absolutely not, c’mon.” I tutted, shooting a hand down underneath the arm, pinching and prodding at his armpit. His arm comes crashing back down to his side, and he howls.

“AHAHAHAAAA-! FUHUHUCK!! GRACIE- GRACIE, PLEHEHEASE.”

“You can’t butter me up with a nice nickname, that doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” I drag my hands down, gently running my nails over Simon’s gills. I know it can be a bit much for him, so I take it easy.

“AGH!! YOHOHOU BASTARD-!”

“See? That’s why nice nicknames don’t work. And I’m not even being aggressive about it! I’m going nice and easy.” I say in a bit of a condescending tone. I’m having fun, sue me.

“DohoHON’T patronihihize me I could tAHAKE it.”

“Ohhh is that a challenge, Fishstick?” I grin, stilling my hands.

“Do it, Foxtrot.” Simon hisses.

I smile, staring down at him for a moment.

I extend a hand to him firmly.

“No fighting, hitting, or shoving me off. Gills, thirty seconds, or until you say “Hail Mary.” Deal?”

Simon mulls it over in his head for a moment.

He takes my hand and gives it a confident shake.

“Deal.”

“Alright, ready?” Simon nods.

I swing a leg over him, straddling him by the thighs to keep him down. “3… 2… 1!”

I latch onto Simon’s ribs, both hands velcroed to the middle gills on each side. With everything I have, I vibrate my fingers into the arches.

Holy moly his screaming could wake the dead.

“AAAAAAA AAHAHAHAHHAHA-!!! SHIT SHIT SHIHIHIT-!”

“Let’s find kinder words.”

“NOHOHO, SCREW YOHOHOUHAHAHAHAHA-!’ OH MY GOHOHOD-!”

“Could’ya say it a little louder? I couldn’t hear you too well, actually.”

I chuckle, and switch to raking my nails up and down Simon’s ribs with force I typically would never use. Not enough to leave any sort of mark, but probably pretty close to it.

By this point, Simon has completely slid onto his back on the floor. He had taken to gripping the locked drawer handle behind and above him to keep his arms out of the way. Man, he was serious about this.

“Fifteen seconds.” I announce. I speed my hands up, switching back to the vigorous kneading from before, making Simon’s entire body jolt.

“Huh, look at that- your other ear is just as red as your fin now.” I tease.

“HUHIHUSH.”

“So rude.” I huff, leaning down, and without slowing my hands down, blow hard against the side of Simon’s neck.

I had forgotten to shave earlier too. If this were any other situation, I’d apologize for the scruff.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHA-! FOUL! THAHAHAT’S A FOHOHOIL!”

“No it isn’t. I just said “gills”. I did t specify which gills. You signed off on it.” I say with a conniving smile.

I blow another, then another, the seconds ticking down. I switched quickly to the raking motion against his ribs again, and to my surprise…

“OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAY OKAY OKAY I GIVE!”

I slow down a bit, but don’t stop.

“What do you sayyyy,theeeen?” I I sing out.

“HAIL MAHAHARY! HAHAHAIL MAHAHARY-! PLEASE-! Please-! A-Angehehel-!” His voice quiets down as o stop at the very first word.

“You alright?”

Simon groans, letting his arms fall from the drawer handle.

“Yehehes. I’m fine. Did I make it.?”

“Three seconds short.”

“Bullshit.”

I snicker. “Toooold youuu- WOAH-!”

Simon takes me by the shoulders, pulls me down, and barrel rolls us both over, pushing up once he’s successfully swapped our positions.

“That was a cheap shot to the neck! I would have won!”

I laugh incredulously. “You ALWAYS say that! It was fair game! Get ohohoff me!” Simon gets one decent squeeze to my stomach before I catch his hand, wrestling it away.

Simon growls, pushing against my arms as I push back, the two of us wrestling like dogs on the lab floor.

I pull my legs free drum under Simon, moving them both to the right, and using them to push Simon over to the left, successfully knocking him off me.

“Oof-! Christ! Where the hell did you learn that?!”

Don’t worry about it! TRUCE! Truce! No more.” I yelp out through nervous laughter as Simon looks at me like he’s gonna jump at me again.

“Truce.” I say again.

“Fine, Fine, truce.” He nods, pushing his hair, that had long since jostled free of the bun, back behind both ears.

“Hey! You’re wearing it out of your face now!” I smile, crossing my arms.

The right, unscarred half of his face turns a little bit pink. I never knew it took so little to embarrass him- I’m learning a lot with a clearer view of Simon’s face.

He gives me a look. He knows I noticed.

He rolls his eyes, lift in himself off the ground.

“Oh shut up, Gracie, you’re just as bad.” He leans down as he walks past, grabbing my cheeks and giving my face a firm shake, before stepping over me on the floor. “At least I have the hair to cover it up.”

“You have the hair because you refuse to cut it.”

“I do t want it cut!”

“You’re just too lazy to cut it!”

“I am not too lazy, o simply do not feel like it.” Simon mutters, replacing all the tools and equipment on the lab table back in their respective homes.

“First of all, same thing, and I’ve offered to do it, no less than 700 times.”

“And magically, you think im gonna say yes on the 701st ask! You know what that is? Insanity.” He points a finger down at me. “And besides I don’t trust you. You’re scissorhappy.”

“Wrong!”

“Correct!”

“I cut my own hair just fine, and I can cut yours!”

Simon looks at my hair with a raised brow, then back down at me.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“What?! I look great!”

“In the dark.”

“Fishbrain…”

“Dogboy.”

“Dog boy?!” I scoff

“Yeah, your whole thing is foxes. Foxes are dogs”

“Incorrect. They’re both in the Canidae family, but they’re completely different. Just like how a tabby cat isn’t the same as a tiger.”

“Ohhh whatever! You certainly yap like a fox.

I snort, standing up off the floor. “Yap yap yap yap!” I make “quiet coyote” hands, making them bark in Simon’s face.

“Get away from me, you stray.” He mutters.

“Don’t hate on foxes, you’re still wearing my cardigan!” I snicker, bumping into Simon on purpose as I walk past. He shoves me back, making me hop a step forward.

“Oh! You can keep that notebook, by the way.”

“Notebook?”

“Yeah, the one with all the stuff I wrote on your ship samples. There’s two whole pages about the composition of the ocean. Some weird stuff in there.”

Simon looks down at the still open notebook on the table.

“You sure? You don’t need it?”

“Nah, next time I work on the samples, you can help me out. I’ve got plenty more books- we can start another one.” I smile.

Simon nods slowly, closing the book carefully, keeping a hand on the cover.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” I give Simon a thumbs down, which he returns with a quiet whir of his xenonite arm.

“I gotta get back to Rocky… I’ve let him sleep alone wayyyy too long.”

“Right, alright. G’night, Starman.”

“Ha’ I like that one!” I laugh on my way out of the lab. “There’s a staaaaaarMAAAAAAN waiting in the skyyyyy!”

Grace banged his fist on the table and Simon flinched. “Simon, if you would just listen for a second—“

“NO! I’m not gonna fucking listen! How many times have I told you I don’t want that fuckin’ bot near me?!”

“I know. Listen, I don’t like needles either, but we have to take your blood to check for—“

“You don’t hafta do anything!” Simon exclaimed. “Just shove me out the airlock and let me DIE already!”

I took a sharp inhale of breath. Simon hadn’t asked for us to let him die since the first few weeks he was with us. Something must be going on with him aside from this argument.

Grace didn’t seem to see that. He was getting angrier and angrier. “Are you serious? Do you hear yourself right now?” He took a breath, standing up from his chair and shoving it aside, hard. “If you would just stop interrupting me—“

“Why do you care so much about my mutations anyway? Do you think I’m a fuckin’ monster?” Simon snarled.

“ENOUGH!” Grace exploded. “I can’t do this anymore! I need to take your blood to make sure the mutations aren’t killing you. I don’t want you to fucking die, Simon!”

Simon seemed taken aback by the curse. I think it was the first time either of us had heard Grace curse. “Why?” he demanded.

“Because I love you!” Grace cried. 

There was a stunned silence. Even Grace seemed surprised at himself. 

I slipped silently out of the lab and went to hide in the cockpit. 

I hated it when they fought like that. It made so much noise, and this ship was tiny and impossible. I had been thinking lately about Stratt’s deliberations over whether to put the crew in a coma, and how all the research showed we would go crazy and kill each other. 

That was assuming they’d be dealing with me, Grace, Yao, and Ilyukhina—a mild-tempered crew—without knowing Simon and Rocky would eventually join us. That was assuming we’d die after a year or two of completing the mission. 

Simon’s arrival brought out a side of Grace I had never seen before. Grace became completely swept up in making sure Simon was okay, so much so that I faded quietly into the background. Simon provoked the anger issues that Grace had spent years, or so he told me, taming. I had begun to understand the type of person he was when he got kicked out of academia. 

I fiddled with the screens in the cockpit, mindlessly exploring the maps of stars and systems nearby on our course to Erid. 

I liked Simon. I really did. There had been a nearly perfect few weeks, after Simon got over the initial shock of living with us, and before he had started picking fights with Grace daily. The four of us spent most of our time in the don’t-go-crazy-room, exchanging stories of the worlds we grew up in. He was a good guy, and he clearly liked the both of us. We had enjoyed having new company. Grace and I allowed ourselves to behave like kids instead of the saviors of humanity.

It had been so complicated recently. The first few arguments, I had intervened. But then I realized we needed at least one emotionally regulated human around, so I let them yell at each other until they exhausted their voices. 

I listen carefully for noises in the main body of the ship. The yelling had stopped. I heard Rocky’s voice, too far away to be picked up by the translator on my laptop, but I could tell it was somewhat angry. I heard the murmured tones of reconciliation, and then the beeps of Armando instructing Grace on how to draw blood from Simon’s good arm. Then, there was silence. 

I turned back to my own tasks, opening up my laptop and working on some code to automate a systems check for the ship so we didn’t have to do it as often. I had been coding a lot recently. I had become used to being by myself. 

I was so focused I didn’t hear two pairs of footsteps approaching the cockpit. When Grace peeked his head inside, I startled. 

“Hey,” Grace said. 

“Hey,” I replied lamely. 

He navigated his body through the narrow space of the cockpit. Simon trailed after him. I glanced down and saw that they were holding hands. 

Oh. 

That must’ve been why the past few weeks were so tense—they had finally figured out their feelings. I wanted to feel happy for them, but the sight only managed to drive another pang of loneliness between my ribs. 

I chewed my lip as I watched them share a look. It was too quiet for my liking all of a sudden. 

“We’re sorry,” Grace said bluntly. 

“For what?” I asked tiredly.

“For fightin’ too much,” Simon said softly. 

I set my laptop aside and rubbed my eyes. “Okay,” I muttered. 

It was quiet again. Somehow, it didn’t feel resolved. 

“Are you okay?” Simon ventured.

“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t like yelling. I’m tired. And I’ve never seen you act the way you have been acting the past few weeks,” I said to Grace.

Grace winced. 

“And I’m lonely.”

They looked guilty. Grace dropped Simon’s hand. 

“No, don’t do that,” I sighed.

I picked up Simon’s hand and put it back in Grace’s. 

“Just get your act together, and I don’t want to hear more yelling on my ship,” I said firmly, as if that was the end of it.

*** 

Technically, no one was fighting anymore. Grace and Simon had evened out into a peaceful existence. They solved their disagreements without yelling. It was quiet again. 

I looked away when they cuddled. I left the room when they kissed. I stopped touching both of them and I kept my distance. They were a pair now, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.

Maybe that’s immature of me. Maybe I’m just punishing myself here. Maybe it’s unrealistic, given that those two are the only humans I’ll ever see again and I need them like I need oxygen. Maybe it’s unfair to them. Maybe they miss me.

I’m sure they don’t. Honeymoon phase, right? I don’t know. Their relationship is definitely atypical of what I was used to seeing on Earth. I had never asked Grace about his dating history, but I got the sense that he wasn’t interested in romance or sex or any of that. I guess that’s why it took me so long to figure out why they had been fighting so much.  

Rocky’s new favorite way to piss me off is to find me in the cockpit (my permanent hiding spot, it seems) and use his echolocation to narrate Simon and Grace’s more intimate activities wherever they are in the ship.

“What is purpose of using mouth, question?” Rocky needled. “Grace puts mouth all over Simon body. Very gross. Disgu~ust.” 

“Stop it, Rocky, I don’t wanna know,” I sighed. It’s bad enough that I can hear them going at it when I’m trying to sleep. 

Rocky did the Eridian equivalent of a chuckle. He paused for a few seconds, echolocating to another part of the ship. “Another question: why Grace not take clothes off?”

I turned to Rocky. “What?”

“Grace touch Simon intimately, but not other way around,” Rocky explained. 

“That’s… strange,” I murmured. I caught myself: “Wait—this is none of my business.”

Rocky chittered smugly.

***

So, I did some research. Shut up.

I don’t know a ton about Simon in comparison to the way I am extremely familiar with Dr. Ryland Grace. I could be right that Grace is somewhere on the asexuality spectrum. And that would probably translate to a slightly unique relationship between him and Simon. 

I don’t know why I care so much. It’s just boredom, I’m sure. I was just curious. I’m cooped up and I’ve gotten nosy. Nothing else.

***

I’m stuck in the same room as them. 

There was a hairline crack in Rocky’s tunnel that we hadn’t noticed and some ammonia leaked into the dormitory. Rocky ordered us to hang out in the lab until it’s fixed. 

“Hey, stranger,” Grace said lightly as I set my stuff down in the corner of the lab. 

“Hey,” I said, turning around and trying to bury myself in data.

“Whatcha working on?” Simon asked, wandering over. 

I perk up a little, always happy to talk about my work. “The Hail Mary has been collecting spectral data during our journey to Erid,” I explain. “I’ve been analyzing it as we go. Some cool stuff in here.”

Grace walked over to see, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing as I flipped through photos the ship’s cameras had taken. It’s the first time they’ve paid attention to me in a while. My fingers trembled slightly on the keyboard. 

Simon put his hand over my shaky one. I froze. I realized they were both very close behind me and I felt two conflicting needs—for some air and for more, more, more. 

“Are you okay?” Grace asked. I had stopped talking mid-sentence. 

“I’m fine,” I said, turning back to my work. Simon stopped my spinny chair halfway, and then turned me around to face them. 

Simon’s hand was braced on the desk next to me and Grace was also hovering very close. I was pretty much speechless. I hadn’t been this physically close to a person in a long time. 

“Something’s wrong with you,” Simon said bluntly. “We didn’t fix it last time and m’tired of it. Spill.”

“I- I’m lonely,” I said, again. “But I’m trying to give you guys space to…be you. To be…a thing together.”

“We’re not anything without you,” Grace replied, his eyes bigger and wetter than usual. Damn, it’s going to be difficult to keep my distance if he keeps looking at me like that.  “You are,” I said. “You’re definitely something. I don’t… I don’t know what you guys are. But I’m trying not to interrupt.” 

“But you’re forcing yourself into solitary confinement,” Simon all but growled. 

I got the sense that he knew a thing or two about solitary confinement.

“And stop saying ‘interrupt,’ because you won’t,” Grace added. “We’re a crew. A team. And we need you.”

“Okay?” Simon probed.

“Okay,” I agreed. 

***

Rocky finished dealing with the ammonia leak. 

Grace and Simon had been gracious enough not to sit in each other’s laps and make eyes at each other in my presence, but I still scurried off to the cockpit as soon as possible. 

I almost forgot about the agreement I’d made with them, so used to my routine of hiding. Simon poked his head into the cockpit and cleared his throat. 

I startled.

“You’re doing it again,” he complained. Grace peered into the hatch behind him. 

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. 

“That’s fine,” Grace said cheerfully. “We’ll come to you. As long as you need us to.” 

Simon sat himself down in the chair next to me and Grace floated around the small room, examining all the little objects and clutter I had accumulated in the past few weeks. A small model that I had used to teach Rocky yesterday about circuitry was disturbed by Grace’s movements and bonked me on the head. 

It was unusual to have them both in the tiny space I had claimed. 

It was much more crowded.

I yelped as Simon grabbed my waist and repositioned me. “What are you doing?” I asked, blushing furiously at the close proximity.

“M’braiding your hair. Stop moving,” he replied gruffly. 

I relaxed after a few minutes. I forgot how soothing it is to have someone touch your hair. Grace watched with a pleased smile as my eyelids fluttered to half-closed. I felt my heartbeat slow and the prickly feeling of emptiness in my skin, of a lack of sensation, subside.

I felt tears well up in my eyes when he tied off the braid with an elastic and patted my shoulder. Grace sat up in alarm. “Why are you crying?” he asked anxiously.

I wiped furiously at my eyes. “It just reminded me of my mom. She used to… braid my hair.”

I felt Simon’s strong arms—one flesh, and one prosthetic—close around my waist again and pull me in. He hugged me to his broad chest. I was smaller in comparison, a detail that felt strangely good. “It’s okay,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t cry.”

Grace pushed himself forward and hugged me from the front.

I took it in slowly. 

Visuals? Grace’s corny t-shirt. Smell? Simon’s shampoo, and the faint smell of sweat. Probably mine. Hearing? My crew’s steady breathing in my ears, and Rocky clanking away distantly in his tunnels. Touch? Strong arms surrounding me. Taste? The salt of my own tears.

I was still overwhelmed. 

“Guys…”

“Mm?” Grace murmured. 

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Simon encouraged. 

“I can’t handle this much, but I need more,” I exhaled shakily. Simon tried to pull away. “No, don’t stop—“

I was crying again. 

Grace leaned back from the hug to look at my face. God, he was so close to me. 

“Fudge,” he whispered. He looked up at Simon. “Si, we messed up.”

“M’sorry,” Simon murmured into my hair. “We didn’t know it was this bad.” 

I struggled against his grip. “I can’t—I can’t be doing this…”

“Why?” Simon murmured, arms loosening. 

“I’m too needy, it’s too much, this isn’t normal—“

“S’not too much,” Simon interrupted.

“Your feelings are perfectly normal,” Grace chided in a gentle, teacherly voice. “This is what happens when people get lonely and isolated.” 

“But you guys are—“

“Just shut up and let us love you,” Simon interrupted. 

I stopped protesting. 

“Our lives aren’t normal anymore,” Grace muttered, stroking my cheek gently. “Why should the three of us try to be normal?”

“Okay,” I said. And it really was final this time. 

I went limp and compliant in Simon’s arms. He made a pleased noise and turned me around to face him. He pressed me closer and rubbed a hand up and down my back. I buried my face in his neck. 

It felt so good, I almost felt wrong enjoying it. 

Simon understood that, I think. It took him a while to get used to us touching him in the beginning. He was always saying something about Eden and being a sinner. 

Grace communicated something to Simon behind my back, and I heard Simon chuckle and then make an “mm” noise. 

“Hey,” Grace said. “Can we cheer you up?”

“What do you mean?” I mumbled, still too busy enjoying the hug.

“I wanna see a smile,” Simon said into my hair. 

“No, I’m too busy being pathetic right now,” I muttered. 

“Why couldn’t the astronaut book a room on the moon?” Grace said, already chuckling at the answer. 

“Why?” I grumbled into Simon’s shirt. 

“Because it was full,” Grace wheezed. 

“I’m not laughing at that bullshit,” I deadpanned. Simon chuckled at my reaction. 

I cracked a smile despite myself. 

“Theeere we go,” Grace grinned. 

Simon poked at my sides. “How about a laugh?”

“Sihimon, don’t—“

“Ooh, good idea,” Grace snickered. 

I tried to use my inertia to get away, but Grace was in the way. I pushed off of his chest to try to get to the door, but then Simon blocked me. 

“You’re not gonna escape if it’s both of us,” Simon chuckled. 

They grabbed me and I squirmed wildly, legs pinwheeling like a cartoon character in zero gravity. 

“C’mon guys, I’m not sad anymore, just hohold on—“

“Nope. Too late,” Grace replied. “You’ve been a sad sack for too long.”

“Sad sack?” Simon chuckled, busy wrangling my arms and pulling them over my head. 

“Yep,” Grace said cheerfully, wiggling his fingers towards my now-exposed torso. 

I squealed and squirmed around. “Grace! Don’t- Simon, let me go right now,” I demanded. 

“Sorry, you need this,” Simon justified. 

Grace buried his fingers under my arms and I shrieked. My body tensed up with the urgent need to pull my arms down. I struggled uselessly against Simon.

“Aww, is someone ticklish right here?” Grace teased, poking and digging one finger under each of my arms. 

Simon and I both cringed at the baby-talk. I was too busy laughing, but Simon groaned in embarrassment: “Grace….”

Grace laughed at us. “Simon, I’m not even tickling you right now, why are you embarrassed?”

I turned my head to look at Simon’s red cheeks. “You’re cuhute,” I giggled. 

“You’re not in a position to make fun,” Simon growled, pinching up my side to add on to Grace’s tickling.

I shrieked with laughter. “AHAHAHA- wait, I’m sohorry- Simon, Grahahace, I’m sorry—“

Grace’s hands migrated down to my stomach. He yanked up my shirt to untuck it from my tied-off jumpsuit. “Maybe now you’ll laugh at my jokes,” he commented, clawing rapidly at my bare tummy. 

“YOUR JOHOKES SUCK AHAHASS—“ 

Simon sucked his teeth. “I think you’ll regret saying that…”

“What do you call two dinosaurs who got into a car crash?” Grace asked. 

“I dohon’t knohohow—“

“Tyrannosaurus wrecks!” Grace giggled. 

“Not- FUHUNNY!!” My protest turned into a scream of laughter as he nuzzled his stubbly face into my belly. 

Simon’s thumb massaged into my hip and I shrieked. “I don’t know, you seem to be laughin’ a lot, angel,” he murmured in my ear. My face burned hotter at the pet name—I’d only ever heard him use it for Grace. 

Grace pouted. “You stole my line.”

“I have a better joke for you,” Simon said conspiratorially into my ear. “He’s right in front of you.”

Grace sputtered in indignation as I laughed from genuine humor. “Wha- Hey! Not cool!”

Grace squeezed rapidly up my thighs. “What are you laughing at, huh?”

I descending into snorting giggles. “S’NOHOHOT MY FAULT! It was SIMON!!”

“Oh yeah?” Simon teased in my ear. “You laughed, though, sweetheart.” 

He pinched up my ribs and kneaded into each pressure point with terrifying accuracy. 

“You laugh, you lose,” Simon added in a tone that sent shivers down my spine. 

I let my head fall weakly onto Simon’s shoulder, kicking desperately. My laughter turned breathy. Their fingers slowed down. 

“You feeling better?” Grace asked. 

“Noho, I’m feeling like I’ve been tohortured,” I fired back. One reprimanding squeeze from Simon set me straight. 

“Good,” Grace said with a dopey smile. He leaned up and pressed a scratchy kiss under my jaw. 

I froze. What did that mean? It must have showed on my face, because I felt a laugh rumble through Simon’s chest.