#lee!grace

I head canon Grace being ticklish at least to some extent pretty much everywhere and Rocky loves to find all the little weird spots to drive him up a wall palm/arm tickling needs some more love imo

the first time ryland notices, it's subtle.

you're reaching for something on the shelves. out of the corner of his eye, a silver of skin peeks out at him under your shirt. he can't help it: it's right there, all smooth and soft and ticklish.

you were basically begging for it.

that's what justifies the frankly, quite cruel action in ryland's head. he simply couldn't resist- the thought of your body squirming and bright laughter pouring out of you is more than enough to sway his judgement. his hands creep towards you and land a series of rapid squeezes over your bare sides.

"a-ahAHA," you burst into giggles, horrified to find that the element of surprise has made the sensation ten times worse. ryland picks up on it- of course he does. he makes a mental note to sneak up on you more often. his fingers follow you, tickling as you slowly go limp, curling up on the floor.

evidenced by his crinkling smile, ryland finds this ordeal immensely hilarious. he reaches up, easily grabbing the jumpsuit off the locker shelf and handing it to you.

you glare at him, pouting petulantly on the floor, refusing to accept his olive branch. ryland's eyebrow twitches upward. you want more? he seems to question. his hands form claws, opening and closing.

you blush and grab the jumpsuit from his hands, refusing to meet his eyes.

ryland doesn't miss the way you stare at his teasing hands for far too long, nor the ghost of a crestfallen face as you leave to change into your jumpsuit.

the second time ryland notices.

there is something about ryland's hands. they are mesmerizing in a way that makes you stare.

your eyes can't help but trace the outlines of his soft fingers as they shuffle with paperwork, the crevices folding and unfolding. his left hand runs across his blonde hair, carving a path of runes.

his fingers tap, tap, tap across the surface of the table as he ponders over something, and you squirm, almost imperceptible. your brain envisions unholy things- his digits running across your skin. scratching. scribbling. tickling.

what the hell.

ryland's head turns in your direction, ever so slightly. you panic, and occupy yourself with stacking random papers on your desk. out of your peripheral, you can sense the corner of ryland's lip twitch in amusement.

it doesn't help your case at all when your trembling hands knock pieces of paper away from your messy pile, floating and cascading across the room. one lands directly next to ryland. he quirks an eyebrow.

"fuck." you murmur under your breath as you scoot down to pick it up. ryland raises his other brow.

"language.” he emphasises with a quick, gentle scribble at the back of your neck and you fold with a yelp, clutching the floorboards as though you could melt through them if you tried hard enough.

you pick up your piece of paper. the white gleams at you. pointedly. the fluttering traces of ryland’s fingers linger on your neck, teasing but not quite there.

ryland's already turned back to his work: you gawk at him. then back at the piece of paper- a desperate manifestation of your need.

"please tickle me. more." the words are slipping off the tip of your tongue, but your embarrassment swallows them down, down, down your throat and into your stomach until nothing remains.

you miss the entertained spark present in ryland's eye in your tickle-less misery.

the third time, ryland doesn't notice. he confronts.

"you like it."

"hmm?" you can't recall what you're doing, but something in his tone makes you glance up, curious.

"the tickling."

it's abrupt, the splutter that explodes out of you. your insides churn. you open your mouth to protest. then close it. you're half-convinced you look like a gaping fish.

ryland's scrutinising you like he's watching a puppy chase her tail in circles. his eyes are all wide and doting, catching your every miniscule movement.

"that- that wasn't a question." you manage to say.

"that wasn't an answer."

a pause. one that you don't trust. if it were anyone else, you would've thought that they had already let it go. but ryland grace doesn't just let things go. he starts intrigued: then he pushes, and he shoves, until every single one of his hypotheses are proved.

and you've just become his newest experiment.

"noho, look at me."

your eyes flicker hesitantly to meet his lens-covered ones, and to his delight, your cheeks tint a rosy pink.

"so you agree then."

"what?" your voice comes out squeakier than intended.

"you want," ryland whispers tauntingly. "to be tickled by me."

a string of stutters and protests pour out of your mouth. that doesn't deter ryland in the slightest. the way he looks at you, all fond and teasing, is too much to bear.

"okay,” his voice is factual. serious. “i won't tickle you, then."

and you know him well enough- ryland will follow through. a whine of frustration builds up in your throat.

"ryland." you clear your throat. you attempt to bargain with your pleading gaze.

"yes?"

you sigh.

"please." the walls suddenly look very interesting to you.

"please what?" you can practically feel the mischief radiating off of him.

"...please tickle me."

it comes out as a garble of syllables, the dreaded word spreading heat across your face. but despite the incoherency, this just about satisfies ryland. in a split second, he’s already making his way towards you.

oh, fuck.

you scamper across the room, ryland and his smirk swiftly following.

"w-wahait!" your hands are held in front of you as a weak means of defence.

"wait for what?" ryland laughs at the absurdity.

you struggle to find a proper response. instead, you dance around the room, evading his every step. ryland's circling you like prey and you can't help it- an anticipatory giggle bubbles up your throat.

"noho, back off!"

"but if i back off," the cocky grin on ryland's face is contagious. "how will i tickle you?"

he reaches for you and a gasp erupts from your mouth.

"bad grace!" you must be picking up rocky's vocabulary.

"did you just scold me," ryland snorts. "like a dog? you are so dead."

you whimper when ryland lunges for you, managing to duck past his arm. but when he grabs a handful of your shirt and reels you into his chest, a pair of strong arms wrapping around your stomach, you realise that ryland is always right- you are so dead.

"hi," he whispers into your ear for dramatic effect, laughing at your whimper as you glance back at him.

ryland drums his fingers, gently against your waistline. your hands circle his wrists, tugging them away but they don't budge an inch. even now, you can't help but stare at his fingers. intoxicating. calculating. tickling.

ryland notices, flexing them intentionally.

"where should i tickle, baby?"

oh god.

"noho- nohowhehre," your voice breaks off into helpless giggles when he claws gently around your stomach.

"i thought you wanted this!" ryland has the audacity to pout at you.

"shuhut uhp!"

"did you just shush me? hmm?" he vibrates his hands into your ribcage and a squeal escapes from you. "that was pretty rude of you."

you try and fail to pry his wrists away from your torso. ryland conveniently decides to ignore the way you're slowly going limp in his arms, landing stray scribbles over your sides as he holds you upright.

"had enough?"

you look back, mirth-coated eyes meeting his.

"oh my god." ryland laughs, a loud, genuine sound. like this is the funniest fuckin' sight he's ever come across. "oh my god, you really like this."

you forget how to talk.

in your embarrassed state, you spin in his grasp to face him, before your own hands skitter up his sides and into the hollows of his armpits. the result is instantaneous- ryland folds, breaking into tiny, wheezy giggles. you can't help but laugh along with him.

he grabs your wrists in a panicked frenzy and now, you're panicking.

you're pretty sure they could've heard you back down on earth.

“Calm! Simon dramatic.”

Simon huffed softly. “Well you sounded panicked. You can’t do that and expect me to not freak out a little bit.”

“Dramatic,” Rocky repeated.

Simon dragged his hand—his real one—down his face, his words muffled slightly. “Okay, what’s the matter?” he asked through a sigh.

“Grace being stupid. Grumpy. Angry. Mostly stupid.”

“Are you just wanting to insult him or is there a real problem here?”

“Not sleep! Stupid because no sleep! Rocky no can convince. Simon Grace mate, so Simon convince!” Rocky explained.

“Is he ever gonna learn to go to s— Wait. Mate? Rocky, he— He’s not my mate.”

“Mate. Simon Grace in denial.”

“I’m gonna mute your translator.”

“Again. Dramatic. Go get Grace sleep!”

“Fine. Just— drop the mate shit, okay? We’re just friends,” Simon tried again. 

“Denial!” Rocky said as he scurried away. 

Simon sighed. It’d taken a while for Simon and Grace’s interactions to not be awkward anymore, even longer for them to actually become friends. He didn’t want Rocky to ruin that with all his ‘mate’ talk. It’s not like he hadn’t… considered it before. But there were far too many risks there. If anything went wrong… Well, they were stuck on a small ship with a blunt alien who wouldn’t make things any easier. 

Sure, he caught Grace staring sometimes, but that was just because he was a scientist. Of course Simon was interesting to him with all his… mutations. And the times he sought out Simon to talk or hang out was just because they were friends, and Grace hadn’t had any human contact in who-knows-how-long. The times Grace comforted and held Simon after his nightmares? That was just Grace being Grace. He wouldn’t just let someone suffer without trying to comfort them.

So yeah. It was too risky to consider something that was so likely to go wrong.

He headed to the lab, where Grace was hunched over a microscope. Even with the discovery of… whatever it was that killed and threatened stars (Astro something?) and its predator (some kind of amoeba), they still fascinated Grace to an extreme amount. He was constantly studying it, and it was cute how invested he was.

Wait. Cute? No, not cute. Just… Never mind.

“Rocky’s on my ass about getting you to bed. When was the last time you slept?” Simon asked, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the table.

“Uh… It hasn’t been too long,” Grace answered. He looked up from the microscope, meeting Simon’s eyes with a smile. The smile he always gave when he talked with Simon, the one he loved to see.

Simon raised a brow, giving him a look that screamed ‘Really?’.

Grace cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, fine. …About three days?”

“Uh— Three days?? We went to bed at the same time the past two nights. The fuck did you do, wait till I fell asleep then snuck out?”

Grace gave his own look, one that very sheepishly said ‘Maybe?’. 

Simon huffed through his nose softly, shaking his head. “Alright, c’mon,” he said as he walked by Grace and grabbed his arm to pull him away.

“Si! I’m close to another breakthrough!” Grace nearly whined.

“You always say that.”

Grace pulled his arm out of Simon’s grip. “I’m fine, I’m a fully grown adult—”

“Okay, then act like one and go to sleep at a decent fuckin’ time, and maybe I wouldn’t have to drag your ass to bed every night.” Even as he berated him, concern laced his voice through the growl.

“Simon, really. I’ll live.” Grace sat down in his chair, taking his glasses off and hooking them onto his shirt.

“Simon says.”

Grace snickered, “Simon, that’s not how it works.”

Ever since Grace had told Simon about the game ‘Simon Says’ from back on Earth… Yeah, Simon abused it often. How could he not? There was a whole game centered around doing what he said!

“Simon says it is.”

“Well, Grace says it isn’t. And Grace also says that he gets more time to study the Taumoeba.”

“It’s not called ‘Grace Says’. And the tow-moeba will be there in the morning.”

“Taumoeba. I’m not going to sleep yet,” he said as he turned around in his chair.

“...I’ll make you a deal.”

That got Grace’s attention, and after a moment, he swiveled right back around. “I’m listening.”

“I’m liking this Simon Says thing—”

“Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

“Shut up. It’s funny. So… We’ll keep it nice and simple. We’ll play a round. You win, I’ll let you work till you drop. You lose, and you go to bed. Deal?”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? What’s the catch?”

Simon could barely keep the smirk off of his face as he held up his hands. “No catch. I swear.”

“...Okay. Deal.”

“Perfect.” 

In all honesty, this probably wasn’t the best idea on Simon’s part. He knew the basic premise of the game, of course. But he’d only learned it a few days ago. He didn’t know if there were specific strategies or ways to throw Grace off. Meanwhile, Grace had several years of playing this game. …Maybe? He didn’t actually know how often people played it. Was it just children? Or was it a sport? Either way, his point still stood; Grace was much more familiar with this game than Simon was, so logically, this wasn’t the best idea.

However… Simon was, unbeknownst to Grace, giving himself an advantage.

“Simon says… Stand up.”

Grace stood up, his hands in his pockets. “You’re gonna make me humiliate myself.” It wasn’t even a question.

A small smirk crept onto Simon’s face. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t not say it.”

Simon shrugged slightly. “Raise your right hand.”

Grace didn’t move a muscle.

“Simon says… Do a handstand.” The idea was random, but he had to give Grace the illusion of this being normal.

“A handstand?? Simon, do you want me to die??”

Simon just shrugged again with a smug grin. “I mean, you can always just give up so we can go to bed…”

Grace gave him a dead-pan look. But he placed his glasses on the table and stretched out his arms, hyping himself up. Simon was doing his best not to laugh, though he was truthfully ready to catch or steady Grace… just in case. 

Grace raised his hands and flipped into a handstand, actually managing to stick it for a few seconds. His shirt fell down to his shoulders, and Simon’s eyes widened slightly. He forced himself to look away from any exposed skin—he wasn’t a creep. He cleared his throat, ignoring the sudden warmth on his face. But then Grace began tilting forward slightly, trying to walk on his hands to keep himself upright.

“Shit!” Simon stepped forward and grabbed Grace’s legs. He chuckled as he helped get Grace’s feet back down on the ground and grabbed his arm to hoist him up. “Didn’t even last four seconds.”

“Shut up, that wasn’t voluntary!” Grace shoved Simon paired with laughter of his own.

“Woah, Simon never said to shove!”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Fine, fine. …Simon says lay down.” Finally his plan was going into action.

“Uh… weird, but okay.” Grace laid down on the ground with his hands folded over his stomach.

Simon’s laughter had faded, his smirk returning and taking over. “Simon says put your arms above your head.”

Grace seemed confused, but reluctantly followed directions.

“Now, Simon says keep ‘em up there.”

“This better not be what I think it is. …Simon, do not!” Giggles already began spilling from Grace’s lips just from Simon taking a knee next to him.

“What?? I haven’t even dohohohone anything!” Simon chuckled.

“Yet!”

“Hey, you can always just put your arms down so we can go to bed.” Simon grinned as he straddled Grace’s hips. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was damn proud of himself for this idea.

“...You suck.”

“What was that?” he asked, reaching out to run his nails up and down Grace’s side. He let out a squeak and tried to curl his body away without moving his arms, burying his face into his right one.

“Sihihihihimon! This isn’t— fahahahahahahair!”

“Seems pretty fair to me. You agreed to play.”

“You sahHAHAID— thahahahat thehehehere WAHAHAhahsn’t a cahahahahahahatch!!”

“Yeah… I lied,” Simon said without even a hint of shame in his voice. How could he feel bad when Grace just looked so damn cute? 

“Yohohohohou SOHOHOhohon of a bihihiscuihihihihit!!”

“Language, Angel,” Simon chuckled, knowing damn well he was being a hypocrite.

“You— Yohohohohou say thehehehehe f-wohohohohord— EHEHEHEHEVERY HOHOHOHOHOUR!” Grace squealed and arched his back as Simon buried his very bearded face into Grace’s tummy and blew a raspberry right below his belly button. Grace was holding onto his blond hair, tugging it in his attempt to keep his arms up.

“Don’t rip your hair out,” Simon chuckled as he sat back up.

“Dohohon’t— act like ihihihihihit’s not yohohohohohour fault!” Grace retorted through residual giggles.

“My fault? You’re the one who agreed to play the game. And right now, Simon says keep your arms up. Simon also says… don’t laugh.”

“What!? Si—” Grace shut his mouth immediately when Simon began drawing slow, torturous circles in the scientist’s armpits. Simon watched as Grace buried his face into the side of his arm in an attempt to muffle any giggles.

“Remember what happens if you lose,” Simon teased with a smile, laughing when Grace squealed behind closed lips because he was now tickling along the blond’s neck. He could feel Grace’s feet pounding against the ground underneath him, which did nothing in his favor.

When one hand scratched behind his ear with the other one scratching at his tummy, he finally dropped his arms and started trying to push Simon off. “OKAHAHAHAHAY o— ohKAHAHAHAHAHAY! I GIHIHIHIHIHIVE UHUHUHUHUP— SIHIHIHIHMohohoHOHON!!”

“I dunno… I think I gotta make sure you’re fully tuckered out.” Simon grinned, reaching back and squeezing up and down Grace’s thighs. Grace squealed once more, grabbing onto Simon’s legs while his own thrashed and kicked.

“Geez, Ryland, nearly kicked me!”

“IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M— sohohoHOHOHORRYHYHYHYHY!!”

“Nope, that’s a punishable offense. And you, Sir Savior… have been sentenced to more raspberries,” he said gravely, as though he’d just condemned Grace to death. He began slowly, oh-so-slowly, leaning downwards.

“NO! No no no Sihihihihihi— we can talk ahahahahabout— THIHIHIHIHISAHAHAHA SIHIHIHIMOHOHOHON—!” 

Simon’s face was currently buried into the side of Grace’s neck, his own face a bit hot from the proximity. 

C’mon, Butcher, get a grip. You’re just tickling him, get your mind out of the gutter.

If Grace had the same thoughts, he was far too preoccupied with the raspberries Simon was blowing over and over again. The side of his neck, the back of his ear, his shoulders, his collarbone, making sure to use his beard to contribute. Grace was shrieking and laughing, back arching as he held onto Simon’s shoulders.

Simon gave him a final raspberry on the inside of Grace’s collarbone before finally pulling away slightly—the sight made him melt. Grace’s hair and shirt were disheveled, his face red and his eyes closed as he took in air through residual giggles. 

“You okay, Angel?” Simon asked, his voice softer.

“Y— Yeheheheah…” Grace giggled, opening his eyes to look up at Simon. …Which was when Simon realized he was probably a little too close. They gazed at each other in flustered shock before Simon cleared his throat and sat up fully.

“Good. That’s— Good. C’mon, it’s time to get you in bed.” Simon stood up, crossing his arms as he smiled fondly down at Grace.

“Nooooo…” Grace rubbed his face, yawning.

Simon chuckled. “Seems like the tickling did a good job of tiring you out, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

The brunet extended a xenonite hand to help Grace up, who took it gratefully. Simon hauled him up, and wow, did Grace look exhausted. He looked dead on his feet.

“...Alright,” Simon muttered to himself before scooping Grace up in a bridal carry.

“Woah—!” Grace exclaimed, holding onto Simon’s shoulders. “Simon, I can walk.”

“Yeah, but you looked about two seconds away from face planting, so I’m saving you from a broken nose and a pissed off Rocky.” He stayed put for another second in case Grace actually wanted down… but instead of protesting, he just closed his eyes and hesitantly rested his head on Simon’s shoulder. 

Was that… no, no. Ryland's blush was just residual from the tickling. It had to be. Simon’s, however? …What blush? There’s no blush. None.

Simon walked to the sleeping quarters, admittedly struggling a bit with getting down the ladder while holding Grace. But he could feel the blond dozing off, and he’d be damned if he made him get up. 

After a bit of struggling (and nearly slipping a few times), Simon made it down. He laid Grace down in his bed, smiling softly and pulling the blanket over him. He gave his friend one last longing look before turning to leave. But Grace’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Si?”

Simon whipped around. “Yeah?”

“...Can… you stay?” he asked, his words a bit slurred from sleepiness and his eyes only halfway open.

“...Huh?” Did he hear him right?

“One of the reasons I haven’t been sleeping… is because I’ve been getting nightmares.”

Simon’s brows furrowed. He knew all too well about nightmares. “About what?”

“...The beetles. That they… never made it back to Earth. I— I keep seeing my friends…”

Simon sighed softly. “Why didn’t you tell me? Fuckin’ idiot,” he said affectionately. 

“I didn’t wanna worry you.” Grace yawned.

“You’re not worrying me, dumbass.” Simon hesitated before gently carding his fingers through Grace’s hair. 

Grace leaned into it, sighing softly through his nose.

“I’m sure the beetles made it back. Hell, you sent four of ‘em. What’re the chances that they all didn’t make it? Don’t answer that question,” Simon said when he saw Grace start to open his mouth. “It’s not your responsibility anymore, Ry. You did your part. You did all you needed to do, and you were fuckin’ awesome while doing it. Okay?”

A soft grumble in response.

“Okay?” Simon repeated, moving to lightly scratch behind Grace’s ear.

Grace snorted softly, giggling and curling up. “Okahahahahay, okay!”

Simon snickered softly and retracted his hand. “But, to answer your question… Yeah. I’ll stay with you.” He crawled in bed with Grace, giving him as much space as he could. But when Grace cuddled up with him, oh, all willpower shattered. How could he not cuddle back?

Grace exhaled softly, face nuzzled the slightest bit into Simon’s chest. “...Night, Si…”

Simon smiled. Maybe it was because of the shock that wow Grace wants this too, maybe it was the fact that Grace had been getting nightmares, maybe it was because Simon was tired as well… But he softly placed a kiss to the top of Grace’s head, really hoping he wouldn’t regret it later.

“Goodnight, Angel.”