#lee!reader

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. 

it strikes you as intriguing, the way ryland grace is undoubtedly a night owl. his ability to stay up for hours past midnight, pondering over his scientific discoveries is both admirable and incomprehensible to you.

late in the night, you're up for a cup of water, and a quick trip to the bathroom. light radiates from ryland's workspace, constant in the way the earth circles the sun. gentle clinks and clatters echo where he researches deep into the night.

he tries not to wake you. you wake anyway.

you don't mind. not even a little. you like watching him work through your bleary, half-awake eyes. it's silent, and peaceful. therapeutic, even.

he doesn't notice when you peek through the gap, the lights of the hail mary illuminating his silhouette with a golden glow. the blonde strands sit on top of his head, shimmering like a halo.

it becomes something akin to a ritual: you'll pull on a pair of cotton socks so your feet don't snag on the floor. gliding along the surface, the occasional beep from machinery causes your heart to jump.

you do find it hard to make up new excuses for the growing dark circles under your eyes, however, and though you know ryland wouldn't mind having a late-night lab partner, it's obvious that he would usher you to bed immediately, caring for your well-being far more than his own.

sometimes, the sound of ryland's soft snoring drifts into your ears.

you'd grab a blanket, sneaking into the laboratory, skipping past the part of the floor that always creaks, and place a blanket on top of ryland's rising and falling breaths. you'd always take his crooked glasses off of his face, stifling a giggle when you see the trail of transparent drool at the corner of his mouth.

you don't do it every day. not at first, at least.

but these visits become increasingly common, until you spend hours sitting cross-legged outside ryland's door, drowsy and fatigued and still, unable to look away.

you spend half the time thinking about how nicely his glasses frame his face, and the other half wondering how his ears never seem to hurt from the temple tip digging deep into his flesh.

when he glances up, you duck. your presence probably doesn't go unnoticed, though: you can tell by the way he's smiling at the now empty crack of the door.

you feel ashamed, somehow. like you're intruding, cutting through the quiet, cool atmosphere of the ship and the matchless bond between ryland, and his beloved molecular biology.

tonight is no different. you're on one of your late night treks when a shadow hovering in the hallway stops you dead in the tracks.

"i've seen you. watching." it says. scrutinising, but not commenting on the way your throat lumps nervously when you swallow.

"sorry," you say. "did i bother you?"

"no, no." ryland steps forward into the light, and his face is illuminated- he's smiling, like the thought of you having the ability to pester him in the middle of the night is laughable.

"so- um." you fidget with the ends of your hair, messy and tangled from slumber. "i guess i'll go back-"

"wait!" ryland says quickly. too quickly. "do you want to... maybe stay up with me?"

you realise that he's given this some thought, the spark of eagerness in his eyes giving him away. he's scared, nervous. like the thought of you rejecting him and going back to sleep would kill him.

"yeah." you laugh before he's consumed by his own anxious thoughts. "i'd like that."

"okay." he whispers, a promise splashing in the cold air.

"okay." you echo as his hand circles your waist, thumb brushing over your hipbone, guiding you to his seat like a fiery lantern in the darkness.

ryland's lap acts as your seat, his right arm draped over your waist. barely there, but pulling you gently backwards so you ease into him.

you can sense his heart beating at the back of your spine. you're too exhausted to watch whatever he's doing, but your fingers tinker with the small hairs on his arm, trailing where his blueish veins are visible.

you move down to his fingers. they're smooth. heavy. you trace the warm lines of his palms down a path and the the body behind you suddenly goes very still.

you can hear ryland's pulse patter faster, and faster, until his heart is racing. you keep going, painting paths along his hand and he flinches. you feel a shaky inhale travel from his stomach across his torso.

he's ticklish.

suddenly, you're wide awake. but you don't want to inconvenience him any more than you already have, so you muffle a giggle into the soft sleeve of your pajama top.

"what's so funny?" ryland looks at you. you don't miss the traces of pink at the tip of his ears.

"nothing." you attempt to school your facial expressions into neutrality.

he knows that you know. he lands a soft squeeze at the side of your stomach where his hand rests, making you yelp. you're too drained to retaliate, so you let it go, and he lets it go.

you drift off, soon after, to the gentle rhythm of ryland's steady heart, and the incessant growling of the spaceship.

you don't notice when a blanket is wrapped around you, nor when a certain scientist presses a soft kiss on the top of your head.

it's a shame ryland never wakes up in the morning, though.

despite how understanding you are to his tendency to work into the small hours, you can't bear his insistence to stay in bed for "five more minutes". it's gone on for a full hour.

you can't imagine how he finds such comfort in the bumpy mattress, and the endearing silence from the night before has eviscerated in response to his unintelligible grumbles and protests, causing you to descend into a type of indescribable rage.

"ryland." your patience is long gone. "i need help with the centrifuge setting."

he doesn't respond.

you swear under your breath.

and now, the fucker decides to look you dead in the eye, awake and all, and utter the patronizing word.

"language."

"are you- oh my god- you're kidding." it's hard to put into words the kind of aggressive frustration that overcomes you at the moment.

you take his unacceptable behaviour into account when you climb onto the lump of ryland on the bed, perching on his hips.

he blatantly ignores you.

"last chance," you say.

silence from the other end.

you shove your hands into ryland's ribcage through the blanket and he jolts, stuttering giggles bursting out of him. it's so cute, and uncharacteristically ryland, that you can't help but coo at him. he blushes at the sound, writhing under your touch.

his movements are slow and clumsy, and lethargic, and his lack of sleep does nothing to help. he squeezes his eyes shut like he can shut out the feeling, but pries his eyelids open the second your fingers travel to the middle of his stomach.

"noho," he sniffles, a persistent smile tugging at his lips. "nohot thehere, plehease."

"and why should i listen to you?" your fingers dart under the blankets, then under his shirt, stopping for anticipation. a pair of blue eyes widen in response. "you never listen to me."

ryland pouts- pouts and your heart melts at the sight. it only intensifies the need that gnaws at you, though- the need to tickle him within an inch of his life.

you begin to trace patterns over the soft skin of his stomach and his laughter hitches when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. he's giggling now, really giggling, a wheezy, choked sound that erupts out of him.

"yohu arhe soho dehead." the words come out stuttering and slurred through hiccups and it's mean, you know that, but you can't help it- you giggle at his ridiculous state. the redness on ryland's ears migrates to the apple of his cheeks, swirling patches of pink living on the surface of his skin.

"are you gonna get up?"

ryland doesn't respond. wow, he's persistent.

"you really want me to tickle you, don't you?"

ryland stares at the ceiling, an unwilling giggle bubbling up his throat. you take the bottom of his chin between your fingers and tilt his face so he's looking at you.

he flushes a crimson shade, and you pinch his cheek. he's so fucking cute. you press sloppy kisses over the soft skin of his neck, and he shrieks right into your ear.

"ryland!" you scold. "are you trying to make me deaf?"

"sohorry- i'hm sohorry- noho, DOHON'T!" his rambling apologies do nothing to deter you when your thumbs latch onto the crease of his hipbone, rubbing tiny circles and he squeals. he's batting at your fingers uselessly, and his usual strength has somehow evaporated.

"and what have we learnt today?" you smile as you emerge victorious.

"ih'll gehet uhp nehext tihme!" ryland's trying to speak through his broken giggles, and the sight is so amusing to you that you land a few extra pokes on his torso. he twitches at each one, his face crinkling in mirth.

all your effort's gone to waste, though. you're still sleepy from the night before, and when ryland reaches up to hug you, your back tightly pressed against his chest on the bed, you fall into unconsciousness almost immediately. the centrifuge lies on the bench, long forgotten, and it beeps in protest.

this, too, becomes a ritual after your late nights: ryland's refusal to rise, your half-hearted attempts to wake him, and the way you inevitably end up fast asleep with him anyway.

neither of you acknowledge that this is a weak excuse to feel close to each other; nor when you’re pressed up against the warmth of ryland's arms, it finally feels like home.

Space was a vast, unforgivable, beautiful thing. At times, you marveled at its beauty and other times you fought down the urge to scream. When you had the energy, you felt angry at the every passing star and galaxy for reminding you of the slow passage of time, suspended in the darkness with your small food supply dwindling away. 

Despite the vastness, you were never lonely. The three of you were, by all accounts, alone, but you felt closer to Ryland and Rocky than you ever had with anyone back on Earth. Still, small things began to disappear just as your supplies did. The jokes started to get fewer and farther in between, and the play fighting disappeared underneath your noses. The experiments that had been used to keep you busy on your long journey had come to a halt. The separation between the three sections on the Hail Mary started to become inconsequential, your bodies losing the energy to move between spaces. Ryland and you started to shrink, not quite withering away, but not all the way there either. Your skin started to turn a sickly shade and the muscles on Ryland’s arms faded over time, leaving weakness where strong bones had once been.

Rocky became your caretaker and, at times, you wondered if you’d have flashbacks of this moment when you were older and it really was the end. On your darker days, you wondered if you’d ever get to see that end.

Rocky fed the both of you the comma slurry and then eventually the Taumoeba every morning and evening. The three of you were always together, usually cozied up on one of the beds, curled around each other to preserve body heat. It was horribly sad if you thought about it for too long, you’re two mischievous quippy boys turning silent for sometimes hours at a time, if not nearly whole days. You didn’t think about it that much though. With your limited food, your body had started to work itself into its own type of coma. You and Ryland did little more than sleep, and when you were awake your brain felt bogged down by mush, like someone had tied rocks onto all of your thoughts and threw them in the ocean.

When your brain was lighter though, you missed the person you’d used to be. You missed the way a smile felt on your face, and the way you used to steal Ryland’s equipment to get a reaction out of him, you missed your intelligent mind and your quick reflexes and the way you used to pepper Rocky with questions about the cultures and psychology of the Eridian people. 

You lasted so long in the darkness, but there was a time near the end of your travels where you started to lose yourself entirely. You were only a few months from Erid, practically in the same solar system when it started to all feel pointless, where the gun that Yáo had left had started to seem enticing. At first you didn’t tell anyone about it, until one day Rocky started to have to spoon feed you your Taumoeba portion for the day and with trembling hands you told him that you didn’t know if you could make it. He listened to you as you cried, then sobbed, and then grew too tired to talk at all. He helped you change your clothes and brush your teeth, and gently scratched your scalp as he washed your hair for you.

“Promise Rocky you try to make it,” he insisted as he brushed out your hair for you.

Your eyes were stuck on the stark white of the metal hull. It all seemed so dull, so lifeless to you. “I don’t know if I can, Rock.”

Rocky gently untangled a knot that you’d left in your hair for days, but his voice was strong. “Promise Rocky you try. Rocky cannot watch another friend die.”

At this, you seemed to sober. You finally remembered Ryland in the room beside you two, fast asleep, and no idea that this conversation was happening. You were grateful for that small mercy at least, you didn’t think you could bear to tell him any of this. He would break against the news, like a boat against the tide. A thought occurred to you then, appearing between hazy visions of the end, that by leaving this world, you might make Ryland and Rocky’s worlds unlivable too.

Rocky placed one of his arms on top of your heart. “Rocky will save. You try? Question?”

You looked over at Rocky, the one who was single handedly keeping you and your human companion alive and found that you couldn’t say no. You didn’t know for certain that you would make it but for the time being you couldn’t stomach the thought of giving Rocky one more dead body to live with. You nodded and weakly replied in a horse voice that you would try. 

Promptly after, all items that could cause any harm to you were put out of sight. You weren’t sure if you just couldn’t find them or if Rocky had tossed them out the airlock, but either way, you knew the move was intentional. While Rocky couldn’t do much to improve most of your condition, he began to do additional things for you. He played with your hair so you could sleep peacefully. He placed Ryland on top of your body so that you could have some form of stimulation without either of you having to waste your energy. He gave you little puzzles, things that were really meant for children, but were a struggle to your malnourished mind. He said it was to keep your brain busy, but you guessed it was to fend off the darkness that was growing inside of you. 

You made good on your promise, and you tried despite how hard it was.

With a month left, you decided you were going to make it, using one last final push of your mental strength to make it to Erid. However, even after the Hail Mary was back on soil again, conditions didn’t improve all that much at first. The Eridians had to keep you inside the ship for quite some time, making sure that the environment that they were going to put you in was just right.

Ryland and you were still weak, your bodies just barely alive from the nutrition the Taumoeba provided you, but you helped with the experiments where you could, providing the scientists with your Earthly knowledge when you were alert enough to do so. With you and Ryland out of commission most of the time though, Rocky was the one who really managed the most. He visited with you and Ryland whenever he wasn’t eating or working. Despite the fact that he had a home, a mate at that, he only slept with the two of you watching over him.

Adrian came to see the three of you as often as they could. They were quiet, much less talkative than Rocky, and at first you had mistaken it for malcontent, but when they kept showing up you began to see it for what it was- caution. 

You couldn’t blame them, not with Rocky being gone for so many years and your presence keeping him mentally elsewhere now, but Adrian kept visiting you all the same. They never usually said much but their presence became a steady companion on the ship.

As time moved forward you began to become more at ease with their quiet, and they in turn, started to share more of their inner world with you.

The first day that you were out of the Hail Mary, you collapsed with relief onto the sand and rolled around until you were sure you would be dumping sand out of your pockets for days. You ran across the grassy area and screamed and then promptly had to lie back down, too out of breath to continue on. 

They implemented an ocean a week later and you and Ryland tested out the water. You held hands as you gradually stepped out into the ocean, and waited for the water to meet you on the shoreline. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you back on earth, aboard Stratt’s vat once more. Of course, you weren’t alone. A dozen scientists stood behind you, carefully watching you to make sure you didn’t have any sort of adverse effects to the water. 

Afterall, they had gone through a great deal trying to keep their two humans alive, so everything in the biodome was carefully monitored. At times, it was easy to feel like you were on an episode of the Truman show, but all of that was forgotten for a moment as you curled your toes into the wet sand.

When the ocean came in and placed a soft kiss across the top of your shin, it felt more real than anything had in a long while. You closed your eyes and listened to the peaceful wooshing sound of another wave coming back in. The scientists were still hard at work trying to figure out the optimal amount of sunlight for your dopamine production and circadian rhythms, but at that moment you felt okay. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you knew what you were fighting for, and it seemed like it was all worth it. 

As you and Ryland began to settle into your new home, the scientists were hard at work trying to improve your quality of life. The thrum had met and the best minds were all tasked with attempting to get the two of you to not only survive but to thrive on their planet. You were each given a team that you interacted with on a daily basis. You were given nutrition pills and daily routines, and though you resisted them at first, saying that there was no point, all Ryland had to do was to send you a pleading look and you caved. 

Despite the fact that you still hadn’t told him about the scary moment on the ship all of those months ago, he always seemed to know, so you begrudgingly took your pills and went on your walks. 

The Erids figured out the sun cycle, and found a way to plant you a garden. They brought you to it one day, and for the first time in years, you found yourself in front of a tree. It was small, shorter than you and for a moment you wondered if it was real, or if it was like the blue sky above you, only showing you what you wanted to see. 

You reached out and touched a leaf, and found the smooth crisp edge of a living plant. You felt each of the lines across the short green leaves and traced them with your fingertips. You barely managed to choke out a thank you before you fell into tears. 

After that moment, you took your medication, and went on your daily walks without comment. Rocky and Adrian were given suits like the ones that Rocky had used on the Hail Mary, and they visited you often, even setting up a house of their own on the beach. Though you were quiet for most days, you enjoyed their soothing company. 

Erid’s scientists had made new developments on your food, and Ryland had started to cook again. You noticed him humming to himself one evening, munching on some chips as he grilled burgers. After you had finished eating, you felt full, and your chest felt warmer. 

Time began to pass quicker, much faster than it had on the ship. You were given brighter clothes and you started to wear them occasionally. Rocky and Adrian established movie nights, and Ryland dragged you to each of them. 

One night, on one of your evening walks on the beach, the setting sun had aligned itself with the tiny buoys that the Erid’s had set up for ‘swim safety’. You looked at it for a moment, almost mistaking it for a ship because it was so far out. At that thought, you let out a loud laugh. It was a short note, just a little one, but the sound flowed through the beach, like a bird call. Your brows furrowed and you stared at the sun, realizing that your laughter was still inside of you. 

If you could still do that, then surely your joy was still there as well. 

The next week, Ryland didn’t have to drag you to movie night. 

He had started to meet with Rocky and the science team, and you had started to go with them. He was quickly pointed towards the school system, but you were given a special suit to enter the Eridian labs. 

Your work began to feel interesting once more, and you stopped dreading the feeling of waking up in the morning. You had started to enjoy your coworkers, gradually even learning a few Eridian words at a time. You traded your words like children exchanging candy, and then you and Ryland spoke about them late at night while he was prepping his lesson plans. 

One night, you caught yourself staring at him as he graded papers, transfixed by the way his muscles twitched as his hand scribbled across the pages. Suddenly, his muscles were back, and there was fat on his stomach, and you saw him smile at you multiple times a day. You knew it hadn’t really been sudden, but you felt as though you were truly taking him in for the first time in a long while. 

You looked in the mirror, the only one that you had in your house, and realized you were the same. Your muscles had grown back in, your skin was no longer sickly, and your ribcage wasn’t visible anymore. You looked healthy and you felt strong. 

For a moment, you caught Ryland’s eyes in the mirror and he quickly looked away, stifling his smile, and acting like he had been looking down at his notes the whole time. 

“You look better too,” you murmured, not quite having the nerve to turn around and face him. 

He looked at you through the mirror again. “I know, it’s just good to recognize your face again.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, so you let the moment pass. 

Ryland’s cooking was the cause of most of it. No matter how bad of a mood you were in, you couldn’t resist his food, and you started to make a habit of keeping him company while he made you both dinner. You talked about work and your Earth memories, and the passing of the seasons, but you mostly talked about how the both of you were doing. 

One night he made pancakes, and as he babbled onto you about something that had happened at school, you got an idea. It burst into your mind with color and urgency and you sneakily grabbed the chocolate chips from the counter when his back had been turned. 

He spun around and frowned, picking up the container of flour to make sure that it hadn’t snuck under it somehow. 

You watched as he opened cabinets and pulled out drawers, and you grabbed a handful to snack on as you watched your show. Unfortunately, your bite was a little loud and Ryland immediately caught you in the act. 

He folded his arms across his chest. “I should’ve known it was you.”

You shrugged, but didn’t give it back just yet. “Its been awhile,” you said, and it came out softer than you’d meant it to. 

Ryland sighed and dropped his arms. “Too long, some might say,” he answered, as if you didn’t have to explain yourself at all. 

You had started to do things without someone having to drag it out of you, and your scientists seemed to watch you from a little further away. You started to dance in the living room of your small cottage, and only got caught by Ryland once. You tended to your garden and you loved your job and you always made time for Rocky and Adrian. 

As if on que, everyone around you had started to bloom, like they had just been waiting on you to catch up. Rocky and Ryland’s conversations grew more animated, and soon your house was covered with trinkets that the little Erids had given you, or as Ryland liked to call them, ‘his pebbles’.

One morning you woke up to find Ryland making bacon and eggs. You yawned and stretched in the doorway and he immediately noticed your presence. 

“Want some?” he asks, pointing to the pan with a spatula.

You nodded and stepped into the kitchen with a skip in your step. “Yes, please.”

You sat and watched him make it, taking in the careful way that he flipped the eggs so the yolk didn’t break.

He handed you a plate, and you sunk into one of the seats at the little island in the middle of your kitchen. “Did you like my gift?”

You frowned for a moment, looking over at him to find him wryly eyeing you from over the top of his glasses. 

“What?”

His eyes flicked down at your plate, and you followed his gaze towards the perfectly arranged smiley face that he’d made out of your two eggs and a piece of bacon. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You are such a dork,” you murmured, grabbing a piece of toast to dig in your eggs. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, his gaze more intense. “Really? Cause I’m pretty sure I just got a laugh out of you.”

You shook your head, instead choosing to shovel your food into your mouth rather than face him. 

Ryland spun his chair around, fully placing all of his attention firmly on you. “Are you sure? I swear I heard a snort.”

Your eyes flitted towards him and even that millisecond nearly made you melt into the floor. The way he looked at you with such a caring look in his eyes but that little mischievous smirk made you feel both too loved and too preciously vulnerable. You felt your face heat up and you suddenly felt like you knew what was coming next. A prickling sense of foreshadowing threatened to swallow you whole, but you pushed the feeling away. “Nope. Just rolled my eyes.” 

“Right,” Ryland said, his voice rising in pitch, but only moving closer towards you.

Suddenly, your mind was filled with visions of a Ryland and you from long ago, ones where he would’ve picked you up and dug his fingers into your sides. Memories of raspberries blown on the sensitive skin of your neck and fingernails scratching across your stomach flooded your senses. It hit you like that first wave had a few months ago, and it made you want to crawl into the great depths of the cool beyond. The feeling had been gone for so long that you had nearly forgotten about it, but here you were, already a little breathless. Though Ryland was only looking at you, it almost felt like his hands were already there, climbing up your sides and the thought made shivers cascade down your spine and tingles crawl up your neck. You almost instinctively moved your arms to cover your stomach, but no one was there for you to defend against. A sense of want, perhaps even need filled you, and you realized that you missed the feeling. You wanted him closer, and your giggles to fill up the small cottage. 

“I didn’t laugh,” you forced out, barely managing to keep eye contact as you said it. It had been different on the Hail Mary, it was an unspoken thing that when you mouthed off or complained that you were bored, you got tickled. You had told him you didn't mind it at first, and then told him you liked it. You were on a suicide mission, so everything else seem inconsequential, embarrassment and dignity long forgotten. You had thought you were going to die, but here you were, alive and well, and that familiar feeling wrapping around you like a quilted blanket. 

Except now, you were alive, and Ryland was looking at you like you were one of his experiments that he didn’t quite have a hypothesis for yet. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll just have to find another way to make you laugh.”

He leaned back into his own chair and out of your personal space and you felt the loss of attention immediately. Fighting for anything, you reached out and poked his shoulder. 

“Good luck with that,” you remarked, hoping you sounded snarky instead of desperately hopeful. 

Ryland looked at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips momentarily twitching, but didn’t otherwise retaliate. You internally searched for a way to keep the moment going, but your mind was drawing blanks, and before you knew it, you were helping him clear the kitchen. 

Shortly after, he moved to the little love seat to grade papers, his usual Saturday morning routine, and you disappeared back into your bedroom, cursing yourself for your inaction. 

You shut the door behind yourself, and sunk to the floor against it, holding your face in your hands. You groaned and blushed, thinking of the way that he had looked at you and wondered what he’d been thinking. You didn’t know how much he’d thought of those playful moments on the Hail Mary, or if he’d care to repeat them either. You’d changed a lot since the ship had taken off, and he had too, he might not even want to tickle you anymore, and that thought scared you more than anything. You had come back from your darkness, but what if the two of you were too different now?

You debated this thought as you made your bed and opened your windows to let the sea breeze in. You couldn’t bear to sit with your own thoughts so you started to clean your room, which luckily wasn’t as bad as it had been a few months ago. You played music from your computer as you worked, distracting yourself from the storm that was brewing in your brain. 

A soft knock came from the door a few hours after you’d taken a break for lunch and you slipped your headphones down onto your neck to open it. 

Ryland stood there in his soft jacket that had the little foxes on it. “You want to head over to Rocky and Adrian’s? We’re watching The Barbie movie.”

You placed your headphones on the desk and shut off your computer. “Sure.”

“Wow, and I didn’t even have to drag you along,” Ryland teased. 

“You’ve never had to drag me,” you crossed your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

Ryland held up a finger, a silly grin on his face. “No, but I could if I wanted to. 

You deadpanned. “You could not.”

He raised his brows and you felt the thing inside of you unfurling and beginning to take root. “Could so.”

“Could not.” 

In an instant, Ryland was reaching his hands out towards you and you jumped out of instinct. Unfortunately, your instincts were a little out of tune and he easily grabbed ahold of you, hoisting you up bridal style. 

You squeaked and immediately pictured the noise in a different context, one that had you in helpless giggles and pointless squirming.

“Ryland!” you yelled, your heart rate rising and the heat coming back to your face. 

Suddenly, you were back on the ground, your feet firmly planted on your stone floors. You looked over at him in confusion but he only shrugged. “Just had to prove a point.”

You tried to keep the disappointment off of your face, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before Rocky was barging into the cottage. “Friends taking forever, humans need Rocky to come get them for everything? Question?”

Ryland chortled. “Rock, we were literally just about to walk out the door.”

Rocky wiggled his carapace and it took you a second to realize he was imitating shaking his head. “Come, come, come, we go watch movie now.” 

Ryland and you half walked half ran across the beach to keep up with Rocky, kicking up sand as you went. You turned the corner and saw the familiar farm style house with a large red door.

It opened as if sensing your presence, revealing Adrian standing behind it. They moved out of the hallway to let all of you through, closing the door behind you since you were the last one in. “Did Rocky come get again?”

You opened your mouth but Rocky was faster. “Yes, Adrian. Was taking forever.”

Adrian quietly grumbled something in Eridian that you didn’t know the translation for and you couldn’t help but smile. After everything you’d gone through and all the other things that Ryland had put into that translator, he still hadn’t added curse words.

You heard Rocky and Ryland starting to already get into a very loud conversation so you and Adrian headed down the hall after them.

Their house was wide, open, and tall, but it was never cold. The hallway led to a series of entryways leading to their large staircase, the food storage room, and their living room, though it had a different name in Eridian that you couldn’t quite remember.

Rocky and Adrian were both very uncomfortable walking around on soft surfaces so the floor was mostly composed of stone, with the exception of the conversation pit in the middle of the room. There were no windows, though you could see one off of the entranceway to the room to the left of the tv. Luckily, the lack of light made it work excellently as a media room for your human eyes. 

Just under the tv was a color to texture machine that was set to match the above screen frame for frame, so there was no delay between what all of you were seeing through your different senses. Rocky and Ryland were by the fireplace, arguing over something with the connector between the computer and the tv. 

“I think it would just work better if you put it-”

“Grace not making sense. Statement.  Rocky can only-” he started but a curt buzz from Adrian shut him up. 

The boys separated and you and Adrian took your seats. You normally sat in front of them when you had movie nights, not because either of you had planned it that way but because Rocky needed to be behind Ryland so that the two of them could blubber on about the movie without having to lean over anyone else. 

You settled in on the right side of the pit, stretching your legs out and rubbing your feet together like a cricket as you cozied up. 

You looked over and saw Ryland grinning at you. “Comfortable now?”

You eyed him cautiously, waiting for him to make a joke but the punchline never came. Instead, he opened his arms to you, raising his brows. 

You held still for a second. It had been so long since you’d been held, since you’d even let anyone hug you that you were worried you might break upon contact. It hadn’t occurred to you to ask for those things when you were so deep in the darkness. However, your body had betrayed you before you even realized it, leaning in towards him without your permission. 

His arms curled around you and pulled you towards him, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, and moving you so that you were flush against his side, the soft material of his sweatpants brushing against your bare shins. 

Your heart immediately started hammering in your chest, and you went as stiff as a board. The movie started to play and you knew you should relax, but you couldn’t get yourself to calm down. You couldn’t remember how much of your weight you were supposed to lean on him or what you were supposed to do with your hands, and you were worried that your hair was getting caught in his beard or the zipper on his sweater. 

Ryland’s hand sat across your shoulder, firm and certain and you longed for the certainty behind his touch. You looked over at his hands, and then pictured them sneaking over to the side of your neck, then abruptly looked away. 

You heard murmuring beside your ear but you looked over at Ryland to find him staring at you. “What?”

“I asked if you were sore from your swim?”

You frowned, thinking of the way you had done more splashing around than actual swimming. You hadn’t even known that Ryland was home at the time and you had no idea why he would be asking about it. “Why?”

“You just seemed really tense, I was wondering if you were sore.”

“Oh,” you said, to give yourself time. If Ryland could tell you were tense then you could only imagine what Rocky and Adrian were thinking, and suddenly the way that Adrian had caught you at the door made more sense. You rolled your shoulders as if deciding but it did twinge a little bit. “I guess it does.” 

“Do you want me to give you a massage?”

“What?” you asked, though you actually had heard him that time, you just couldn’t process what your ears were taking in. 

Ryland seemed to bite back a smile at this, but at least saved you the embarrassment of teasing you. “Would you be alright with me giving you a massage?”

You tried to make your face neutral though you had the sense that you vaguely resembled a frightened alley cat. Ryland moved you forward a bit so that he could get to your shoulders, and as soon as his thumbs dug into the back of your shoulder blades you started to melt. 

With each press of his firm hands you became lighter and softer in his grip, your shoulders lowering to their normal height, and your body sagging with weight and heavily leaning into Ryland. 

To his credit, he made no comment on the movement, he just continued on his quest to rid you of all your pains as bright pink cars drove by on the tv screen. 

“Hey,” you said, a little hazy from how sleepy he was making you. “Doesn’t that guy kind of look like you?” 

Ryland looked from you to the screen. “I do not look like that guy at all.”

You gestured up to the character on the tv, doubling down on your argument now that he was disagreeing with you. “He looks like he could be your twin. We would just have to dress you in pink western gear.

Ryland snorted, giving you a very unimpressed look. “Okay, as much as I could pull that off, that man looks nothing like me.”

You sat up, pulling yourself out of Ryland’s arms out of indignation. “Your face is literally the same!”

He leveled a look at you from over his glasses. “I think your skill for human facial recognition has just grown weaker after your time away from Earth,” 

“You’ve been away from Earth the same amount of time as me!” you protested. 

“You know what?

“What?” you challenged, and then Ryland was on top of you. Your stomach did a somersault as you shrieked and tried to get away to no avail. 

“What are you dohoing?” you asked, already giggling as he reached towards your neck. Your shoulders curled up towards your ears, but Ryland only grabbed your head and roughly rubbed his knuckles against your hair, creating frizz and only making you giggle harder. 

“Owhoohohw!” you yelled, yet you were flush with the disappointment that he wasn’t doing what you thought he would. 

“Wait, am I actually hurting you?” Ryland asked, his hand still on your head, but unmoving now. 

You froze in indecision. While he wasn’t doing what you wanted, it at least offered you a little bit of physical contact. Then again, you did actually want to watch the movie and didn’t want to bother Rocky and Adrian with your wrestling.

“Rocky and Grace go and get popcorn for movie,” Adrian suggested, though they might as well have added the ‘statement’ at the end of it for the level of question that was left in their voice. They twisted around to look at Rocky and he warbled back and forth with them for a moment before coming to an abrupt stand.

“Yes, Rocky and Adrian forgot human food,” he announced, grabbing Grace with one of his legs and pulling him to his feet. “Go get now.”

You turned around to look at Adrian in confusion, but they beat you to it. 

Adrian leaned in closer towards you, like they were trying to get a better look. “What is human not telling Grace?”

You puffed a breath of air through your cheeks. “Nothing.”

Adrian rocked back. “Fine. Stubborn. Will get out of you anyways.” 

Before you could question what their words meant, you were getting pulled towards them, arms snaking around you and claws digging into your sides. 

You jolted so hard that you nearly threw yourself out of Adrian’s grip, but they had too many arms for your escape to come that easily. 

Their pincer-like hands gently squeezed and wiggled into your sides and dear god did it tickle. 

You were nearly vibrating on the spot from just a few prods, like your body had only needed a few months to forget how to deal with the sensation. You clasped a hand over your mouth to keep your laughter from exploding out of you. You were sure Rocky could already hear you, but you certainly didn’t need Ryland walking in on this and exposing you.

Adrian seemed to catch onto your ploy, and switched tactics, instead using one of their claws to pull your arm away from your side, another pincer reaching in to softly brush across your armpit, making you let out a squeak and a few stray giggles.

“Adrian!” you yelped, 

“Yes? Question?” Adrian said flatly.

You risked taking your hand off of your mouth another time to talk. “The bohohys will see!”

Adrian wiggled one of their unused arms. “If not want Ryland and Grace to see, then tell Adrian what is secret.”

They moved down to your hip and gave it an experimental squeeze, making your leg jolt out to the side.

“This!” you squealed, your dam finally breaking and your giggles starting to pour out.

At this, Adrian slowed, though they still rested a claw on your hip. 

“Human explain,” they said, very matter of factly. 

You groaned and covered your face, but you knew you only had a matter of minutes, if not seconds till Rocky and Ryland came back and you couldn’t risk Ryland walking in as you spoke. You forced yourself to take a big deep breath then push your words out. 

“I want Grace to tickle me but I don’t know if he wants to anymore?”

“What? Question?”

You groaned again, immediately regretting your decision to speak at all. You covered your face with your hands but you were only in the safety of darkness for a second before Adrian pulled your arms down to your sides.

“Not say words in judgement but not understand either.”

You sighed, your face burning, and resigned yourself to telling another person that you liked this odd thing. “Well tickling is-” 

“Know what tickling is. Know what tickling means to human. Is why Adrian just did it. Why human think Grace not want to tickle? Question?”

You decided to momentarily ignore the fact that Adrian somehow knew infinitely more than they should’ve. “It’s been a long time and we’ve both changed. What if that side of him isn’t there anymore?” 

“Adrian not see Rocky for a long time, still like Rocky.”

You frowned. “That’s not the same.”

“Friend must promise they tell Grace.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?” 

Adrian continued on like you weren’t looking at them with wide eyes. “Promise Adrian you will tell Grace tonight.”

You started to back up, as if putting distance between the two of you would put a barrier between yourself and that terrifying idea. “There’s no way. I can’t.”

Adrian seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then the boys walked back in. 

“Who’s ready for popcorn?” Ryland asked, carrying in a tub that was far too big for just the two of you. 

He plopped down next to you in the pit of pillows and blankets and offered you some. You didn’t particularly want any, but you took a handful in order to have something to do with your hands. 

Before the movie started back up Ryland stretched out, coincidentally putting his legs over top of yours, and suddenly your mouth felt very dry. You felt as though you had forgotten how to breathe or how much you were allowed to move. 

You looked over and saw Ryland looking over at you, an overly adoring look on his face. 

“What?” you questioned, almost defensively. 

“Nothing,” he laughed heartily. “I just thought that you look especially adorable right now.”

You rolled your eyes and without thinking, you plunked your head down on his shoulder. “You’re so obnoxiously sweet.”

“Oh, you love it,” he cooed, and then he was curling his arm around your shoulder, settling into where you had leaned against him. 

Rocky resumed the move from where you had been pre tussle, and you quickly fell into the bright hot pink world of barbieland. Rocky and Grace talked about the various music from the movie the whole time, and Adrian had to shush them several times. Even when you couldn’t hear the movie though, you at least could appreciate the bright costumes and set pieces in the fictional world. You couldn’t imagine how jarring it would be to go from bright beautiful barbieland to the complexity of the real world, which was both extraordinary and painful at times. 

While everyone else was still hooked on the movie you glanced around the room at the roaring fireplace and the plush red conversation pit and the wide doorways to accommodate your friends. It wasn’t all that colorful, afterall Eridians couldn’t see color, but it felt real and bold all the same. 

Everyone gave a laugh and you turned to the television right as mattel ceo started to be tickled to pieces by his workers. You felt yourself suppress the jolt just a second before you would’ve alerted the entire room to your nervous situation. 

Adrian’s arm curled around you firmly, and you felt the physical press of the stone with the same intensity of their request. 

You tried to settle back into Ryland, but you couldn’t see to focus for the tiny amount of the rest of the movie, your mind running too fast for you to keep up with it. 

Before you knew it, you went from crying about the acceptance of the pain and the beauty of the real world to being whipped into the upbeat credit songs. 

Ryland leaned towards you as he stretched out like a cat. “I still don’t think that guy looks like me.”

You stifled your smile with a yawn. “Agree to disagree.”

Rocky tip tapped his way over in front of the tv, turning the system off. “Humans like movie?” 

Ryland wiggled his hand back and forth. “It’s lacking a little on the intersectionality bit, but hopefully Earth has progressed by now.”

Rocky stilled, one of his arms halted halfway in the air. “Grace wonder about earth sometimes? Question?”

Ryland drew in a breath, and when you looked over at him you found that he was already staring at you.

You tilted your head and his eyes seemed to soften in recognition. You watched the way he looked at you and realized he wasn’t appraising you, he was looking for reassurance. Only the three of you could truly understand what you’d gone through, and the two of you were the only humans in this solar system. Since Ryland did much better than you on Erid it was easy to forget it, but he still needed your companionship. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely then cleared his throat.” You reached down and squeezed his hand. No one else could understand the love that you had for your strange blue little planet and still not entirely desire to go back. 

Ryland looked back up at Rocky, a new light in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Rocky’s arm snapped back down to his side. “Grace want to go back to earth? Question?”

At this, Ryland laughed and then pushed himself to a stand with a groan. “No buddy, I think you’re still stuck with me. I like it here with you three.”

Ryland offered you a hand up and you took it, starting to follow the boys out until Adrian caught you by the arm.

“What more evidence does human need? Question?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing it was nothing short of a death sentence to admit to Adrian that they had been right. “I can’t.”

Adrian gripped your wrist with only one of their claws. “Promise me you tell him.”

“Adrian-“ you started.

They pulled you back a little bit, making you stumble slightly. “Promise. Adrian need it

You raised a brow. Their voice sounded different than usual. “Why?”

Their grip loosened slightly. “To make sure is okay.” 

Your arms went limp at your sides as you looked up at them. Suddenly you remembered all of the times they’d invited you over for movies and your job in the lab and every single dark pit that your Eridian friends had tried to pull you out of. They’d worked so hard to meet you where you were at and the taste of guilt soured in your mouth.

You sighed, blowing the feeling away.

“Fine, I promise.”

Adrian rattled side to side, the most expression that you’d seen from them in a long while. “Good, tell Adrian about later.”

They pushed you towards the door, and you barely managed to stay on your feet as you half tripped on the threshold, Ryland managing to throw his arm out to stop you from toppling forward.

“Woah, you alright there?” 

You nodded, quickly leaning out of the firm press of his arm, but not before you imagined those strong arms pulling your hands above your head as his fingers wiggled above you, slowly descending towards your armpits until they finally touched down, making you kick out and scream. You wondered if he remembered the spot, if he still recalled how he would wiggle both of his hands into your armpits and raspberry your neck until your face was as warm as the sun and you admitted that you lost whatever silly argument the two of you had gotten into. 

“Bye, get home safe friends,” Rocky yelled, and you nearly jumped as you were abruptly pulled back into reality. You looked to your right and desperately tried not to think about the fact that the person who you had been daydreaming about tickling you was staring at you. 

Then you accidentally looked down at his hands and your skin broke out in goosebumps, and you seriously doubted whether you could actually manage to live through telling him. 

“Did you like the movie?” Ryland asked, staring out at the sea. 

You couldn’t look at him and stand still, so you started walking back to the cottage and hoped he followed. “Yeah,” you turned around to see that Ryland was only a step behind you. “I thought it was fun.”

“When was the last time you had fun?”

Your mind flashed back to taking his beaker on the Hail Mary, Rocky pinning your legs so Ryland could scribble around your tummy to his heart's content. He’d only let up until you admit that you just took it to get tickled, and though you had cursed and complained your whole way through it, happiness had flown through your veins like he had inserted it straight through an IV.

However, you knew you weren’t feeling brave enough yet to give him the real answer so you did what any scared person would do, you pivoted. 

“I had fun tonight with you guys.” You added a smile, one that would hopefully really sell it, but Ryland only grinned like he knew you were lying. 

“No.” He poked your hip with his elbow. “Like really had fun, like one of those memories where you think of it as you lay awake at night and it makes you smile as you drift off to sleep.” 

He turned to you and his brown eyes were too warm, so you looked out towards the sea instead, letting the salty breeze cool your warm cheeks. “I don’t know. Probably back on the Hail Mary.”

“Really? It was that long ago?” There was something in his voice, not judgement but concern and he had probably already spent too much time worrying about you.

“When was yours?”

A puff of air came out of Ryland’s nose. “When I saw you dancing in the kitchen the other day.”

You shoved at his shoulder and jogged up towards the cottage, really anywhere to get away from his teases. “I thought you weren’t going to bring that up!”

He grabbed your arm, pulling you back. 

“No, no I’m not making fun of you.”

You pulled away from him just a little bit. “Sure you aren’t. 

Ryland pulled out your housekey from his pocket. “I just thought it was sweet.”

You narrowed your eyes, opening the storm door for him. “I don’t believe you.” 

He turned the key but he didn’t open the door yet, instead, he only had eyes for you. “I hadn’t seen you dance in so long, I missed it.”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out, he opened the door and walked in, throwing his keys in the bowl. 

You watched him step into the kitchen and fill his waterbottle, a thing he normally did right before bed, and it spurred you into action. 

You shut the door behind you and shuffled in after him, grabbing the matching blue one that always sat next to his as the little ice cubes clunked into the bottom of his bottle. 

“Ryland-” you started, then lost your momentum. 

“Yes?” he said, setting it down and turning to look at you. That was the thing about Ryland Grace, if his attention was on you then all of his attention was on you. It was a blessing and a curse, and in your position it felt like the hot glow of a spotlight, making you unable to see into the crowd. 

You tried to remember the promise that you’d given Adrian. You didn’t break your word, certainly not with people who had saved your life, so you needed to find a way to ask. 

“Would you stay up with me for a little bit?”

Ryland cocked his head, the same thing that you’d watched him do time and time again when he couldn’t figure something out in the lab. When he got that way then it was only a matter of time till he figured it out. 

“Yeah, do you mind if I go change first?” he asked, still not having taken his eyes off of you. 

You cradled your arm with the other to give yourself some physical contact. “That’s fine.” 

“Okay, give me a few minutes.” He grabbed a hold of your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll be right back out.” 

He finished up in the kitchen and shut the door to his room, leaving you with yourself and your flaming skin. You silently groaned, and forced yourself to do the same.

As you picked your pajamas you tried not to think about things that would give him easy access. You changed into a pair of soft shorts and a tank top, but threw a sweatshirt overtop of it. 

When you left your bedroom his door was still closed so you headed out to the deck on the side of the living room. 

The breeze was cool in the evening air and it felt nice against your overly warm body. You sat on the big couch that faced the ocean and looked up to see the full moon. The scientists had added one for the two of you, and even the lunar cycle. Even though it wasn’t really real, looking at it still calmed you. It always seemed to put you at peace, the knowledge that there were so many bigger things out there that would live on past you. The sun might witness your embarrassment, but it cared naught for it, because it was a star with much bigger things to do. 

You felt the same about the sea, which is why it had been added in, that and the fact that Ryland needed the white noise to sleep. 

As if sensing that you were thinking about him, he appeared in the doorway and letting out some of the light from the kitchen. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you said, and instinctively curled your legs under yourself. 

“So,” he started, and then he was walking across the deck to meet you. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

He sat down next to you, leaving several feet of space on the couch behind him. 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Ryland raised his brows but didn’t question you. Instead he just stared at you in the semi darkness, his eyes unmoving from yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you blurted out, though not unkindly.

He cocked his head. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. It just feels very intense.” Your gaze went back to the ocean, trying to gather up courage from its depths. “Like you’re looking right through me.” 

You saw him shrug out of the corner of your eye. “I don’t mean to, it’s just the way I look at people.” 

You started to feel bad, not wanting to insult him because you were scared, but then he was doing the talking for you again. “Maybe that it’s just because you feel too seen right now. 

You kept your eyes on the horizon, forcing yourself to take deep breaths of the salty air. 

“Your silence is speaking volumes,” he said, but his voice was starting to go high enough that it could’ve passed as teasing. Luckily he broke into a laugh before you could try to mutter something completely incoherent. “Talk to me.”

“There’s-” you started, then shifted so you were facing him. “There’s something I want to tell you, and I’ve told you it before, but I’m scared to do it again.” 

Ryland shifted on the couch, the metal frame creaking slightly in the silence. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

The words ‘don’t tease’ were on your lips, but you didn’t want to say it and then have to explain that you didn’t really mean it. What you wanted to ask was if he was still a little of the same man that you’d come to know on the Hail Mary, if he still loved how you were obsessed with giggling and touch, if he treasured those happy moments like you did, if he liked the version of you that had healed, or if he had only accepted those things because the earlier times were so dire.

“I don’t think so.”

You settled into silence for a long moment, like Ryland knew you needed the space to work up the words. When they came to the surface though, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to say the full, real thing. “Do you remember when we used to play fight on the Hail Mary?”

Ryland smiled, the moon illuminating his bright eyes. “Of course”

Your words came faster this time. “Do you miss it?

“Do you?” Ryland asked immediately in return, and his stubbornness almost immediately made you forget what you were afraid of, your voice filled with determination instead.

“I asked first.”

“Yes.” You squinted in the darkness and realized Ryland was blushing. He seemed flustered, perhaps embarrassed and it made you push on.

“Do you remember the times you tackled me to the ground?”

Ryland shifted slightly. “And tickled you?”

Your breath got caught and you had to clear your throat. “That, yeah. What do you think about that now?”

Ryland held his hands up, fiddling with his fingernails. “I’m sorry let me just make sure we’re talking about the same thing, think about what exactly now?”

You knew this was when you were supposed to say the word tickle, but you couldn’t quite do it. “Those moments.”

Ryland rested his head on his hand. “The playfighting and the tickling?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

Ryland hunched over, like he was trying to make himself smaller. “I think they were sweet, they were fun. I think we both needed an escape and we used play to cope.”

You fiddled with a silver string that hung off of the bottom of your pajama shorts. “So those are things that only happened cause we were stuck on the ship?”

You briefly looked up to catch Ryland frowning. “Why would you think that?”

You went back to toying with your stray hem. “I don’t know, people do crazy things in the face of death, maybe those moments would be weird to you now.” 

Ryland readjusted himself. “Okay, now I’m lost again, are we talking about playfighting, or are we really talking about me tickling you?”

You closed your eyes. “The second thing.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he said, and though you weren’t looking at him you could feel the knowingness in his voice. 

“Don’t say it like that,” you groaned, covering your face up. 

All I said was oh!” Ryland laughed, and somehow even that felt mean. 

“Do you know what I’m talking about now?” you asked, covering your face up with your hands. 

“You mean how you like being tickled?” 

“Oh my GOD. You cannot just say that!” You pushed his knee, and then rested your face on his legs.

“I’m sorry! I’m not even trying to tease you yet! I’m just making sure that we’re on the same page.”

“Yes, it’s tickles,” you sighed. “I wanted to ask you if it was something you still wanted to do. I’ve been thinking about it since breakfast.”

He began stroking the back of your head, sending shivers down your spine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That you didn’t like it anymore, that you had lost interest, that you no longer cared to play games with this version of me, that you found it weird now that you have more people to interact with.”

Ryland’s brows furrowed. “Why would any of that be true?”

“I don’t know.” You threw your hands up. “I didn’t say it was rational, I just said I was scared.”

At this, he seemed to soften, he dropped your wrists and placed his hands on your knees. “Actually, I was in the same boat.”

“What?”

“You didn’t notice how I kept trying to initiate physical contact today?”

The day started to playback as you noticed how his hands were on your skin even now. “Why?”

“You’ve seemed more alive recently. It felt like you came back to me and I started to wonder if that old version of you was still in there, if you still wanted to cozy into me like how we watched movies on the Hail Mary when we were nutrient deprived and delirious. I don’t want those times back, but I wanted you back, and I was too scared to ask you for it just in case you weren’t ready. I didn’t want to rush along the process that you’re going through.”

You were at a loss of words for a moment, stuck between nearly laughing and the sudden striking urge that you needed to cry. “You missed tickling me?”

Ryland blushed deeper. “I missed tickling you.” 

He was starting to lean towards you, his hands starting to twitch toward your sides, but you knew you would only be brave for so long and you needed to hear it from him. “So you don’t think it’s weird now?” 

Ryland stilled. “I think to be human is to be weird and I love indulging you in your weirdness.” He tapped a finger to your collarbone. “And don’t you dare forget that.” 

His words made you feel gooey on the insides, so much so that you couldn't even say something snarky about it. “Awwwww.”

Ryland smiled and held his arms open. You accepted his offer without question and you wrapped your arms snuggly around his middle, tucking your face into his chest. His arms felt firm around your lower back as he curled you in towards him, tucking you in like he was making a cocoon just for you. 

He gave you an extra firm squeeze and you settled in further, sighing deeply as he wrapped his arms all the way around you, his hands pressed against your sides. 

“You’re so nice and warm,” you murmured. 

Ryland laid back pulling you against him like you were his personal blanket and you were almost ready to fall asleep like that until he flipped you around. 

You landed underneath him, pinned to the couch by his bodyweight. “Ryland, what are you-” 

“I’m sorry but you had to see this coming,” he said, and you could practically hear his grin as his fingers started wiggling into your sides. 

“NO!” you shrieked, but there was nowhere to go with his full weight on top of you. He had started out barely moving, as if he was testing the waters, but he quickly settled into a routine of raking his fingers down your sides before squeezing a few times to keep you on your toes. 

It tickled like hell and it was already so much worse than all of the times that he’d tickled you on the Hail Mary, and it made you severely wonder how you had survived his reign of torment. If it was possible, you’d only gotten more ticklish with time, every twitch of his fingers turning into a laugh that threatened to consume you whole. 

“Rylahahahhand, wahahahahit!” you squealed, your eyes shut and wiggling side to side. 

“Oh no, no, no,” Ryland grumbled. “No more waiting. I’ve had enough waiting. In fact, I’ve decided we need to put you on a tickling regimen now.”

A shriek was ripped out of you, making you open your eyes. “WHAt?” 

“Mhmm, I’ll work on it after I get my lesson plans done. We need to reinstate weekly, no, daily tickling,” he smiled down at you and though his hands stilled, you were still giggling.

“That is NOT necessary.” 

Ryland pulled his arms out from underneath you and grabbed your hands as he sat up. You tried to pull out of his grip, but your hands were quickly pinned to your chest, leaving your stomach completely exposed. 

“Well we have to tickle you when you’re snarky and when you complain about work even though you love your job, and we have to tickle you anytime you look adorable-” he pauses just long enough to tweak your side and your squeak and flinch. “So that’s at least every day, if not a couple times a day at least.”

“I’m not even that snarky,” you say breathily.

“Oh, so you’re not gonna curse me out if I do this?” Ryland softly grabs a handful of your sweatshirt and top and slowly pulls it up, making you watch as he slowly exposes your tummy. 

You suck your stomach in and start kicking your feet out on instinct. “No, no, no, Ryland don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Too late.”

He bends down and you cringe away before the raspberry is even there, scrunching your face up and preparing for the onslaught of vibration against your nerves. He pauses for a moment, just long enough to make you wonder why you haven’t felt it yet and you chance a peak at him right as his head ducks down. 

The noise he makes is loud and you’re sure that Rocky and Adrian probably hear your consequent scream before you start squealing with laughter. The raspberry seems to last forever, longer than you thought was even possible as he nuzzles his stubble into your skin. You shake your head side to side just to give the energy somewhere to go. 

“I HATE you!” you screech as he starts scritching across your stomach, always too fast for you to even figure out where his hands are. 

Ryland only smiles down at you “Are the little tickles making you feel embarrassed?”

“Shut UP!”

“I would, but I know you don’t want me to.”

“Yes I DO!”

Ryland’s hands move down to your hips dusting across the bones with light traces that are far too ticklish for someone who is supposed to be one third of humanity's savior. 

“Get ohoohff of thehehehre!”

“Give me somewhere else to go then,” Ryland stated.

Your eyes fly open despite the laughter spasms that were exploding out of you. “WhAT?”

“If you want me to move, then give me somewhere else to go.” HIs fingers twirled around your hips, occasionally squeezing into the divot and making you feel like you were hallucinating under the touch of his fingertips.

“Yohohohou’re mahahahaking mehehehe phihihihick?”

Ryland raised a brow. “What? Am I flustering you or something?”

“NO!” you shrieked out as he pressed into your hips again, making you want to curl up into a ball. 

“Ohhhhh, I’m not?” he asked, and you knew this was your last chance to apologize and tell him that you were well beyond flustered, but you chose to keep going down the road to see where it went.

“NO!” you yelled through laughter, and then Ryland let up.

“Okay, let’s test that theory.”

He scooted forward, dropping one wrist in favor of grabbing the other and pinning it far above your head so that your arm was all the way stretched out, leaving your armpit fully on display and utterly helpless. 

“No, not this, please,” you murmured, closing your eyes and covering your face with your free arm. 

“Uh-uh.” He removed your arm from your face. “If you want it you have to watch it.”

You groaned and attempted to bury your head in the couch. “You’re so mean to me.”

Ryland softly brushed your hair out of your face. “You’re not getting tickled if you can’t watch.”

Your head whipped towards him. “That's unfair!”

“You can’t watch this?” he asked, then held his wiggling hand above your head, fingers in the shape of a claw playing the air like a piano. 

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” he whispered, the hand getting closer and closer to your armpit.”

Just as he was about to touch the skin, you yelped and closed your eyes only to hear Ryland laughing at you. 

“Rude!”

He covered his mouth as if it made it better, as if you couldn’t see the mischief in his eyes. “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you’re so embarrassed like this.”

“Shut up.”

His wiggling fingers appeared above your face once more and in spite of yourself, you gasped when he dipped down quickly only to pull away and start squeezing your hips again. 

You shrieked and chortled, weakly pushing at his hands since you were no longer being pinned down.

“I told you I wasn’t switching spots until you picked one,” he teased. 

“I CAN’T!” you yelled, your body twitching every time his devious fingers dug into the sensitive spot in the divot.

“I think you can,” he replied in a sing-song voice. 

“GRHAHACE PLHEHEHESE!” you begged, slapping at his hands as you descended further into your giggly drunkenness. 

“Oh, last name? You must be getting desperate.”

You nodded your head weakly, but he only smirked at you and it made you wonder that if your time away had made you more ticklish that in turn, it had made him more evil. “Where do you want to be tickled?” he repeated.

“NOWHERE!” you insisted though you could see the answer written so clearly in your memory.

Ryland only rolled his eyes and if you had the breath to say it then you would’ve made some smart remark about how he looked exactly like his previous students. His hands eventually stilled, though they still rested on your hips.

“You have to make a decision, it’s the only way you get out.” 

You sucked in a deep breath, once again refusing to look at him. “You deserve jail time for this. They need to make a prison for you here.”

“I actually wasn’t going to make you say the full sentence, but actually you’ve changed my mind.” 

You shot up, your eyes going wide. “Wait, no please, I take it-” 

Ryland shrugged and blew out a huff of air like he was actually disappointed. “No, too late. I think I’m gonna need a full sentence with the words ‘can you please’ and ‘tickle’ in there.” 

You let your head thunk back against the couch, and you closed your eyes. 

“With eye contact,” Ryland added, and you swore you were going to catch on fire. 

“You’re the worst,” you groaned as you forced your eyes open. 

You looked at him and were immediately hit with the full force of his attention and the way his eyes melted, like he was looking at you with all of the love and understanding in the world, like he saw right through your whole charade. The worst part was, he did.

“Can you please- can you,” You started, but couldn’t quite push the words out.

“Take your time,” he smiled and though it was genuine it only felt like a tease.

“Shut up.” 

You looked at him square in his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Can you tickle my armpits please?”

“Put your arms up.” 

“I have to LET you?” you asked incredulously. 

Ryland nodded, crossing his arms, and somehow you knew he wasn’t kidding. You squeezed your arms together against your chest barely managing to bring them so that your elbows were above your shoulders. 

Ryland wordlessly flicked his fingers and you moved your arms so that they were just above your eyes, and you felt all of that uncovered skin shiver in the cool air. 

Ryland looked unimpressed and made the gesture again. “Come on, up.” 

Your jaw dropped from his sheer audacity. “They ARE up.”

“All the way,” he drawled, and you grimaced as you slowly stretched your arms high above your head and leaving all of you completely exposed. 

“See? Now was that so hard,” he cooed, and just as you were about to respond, his hands dug into your armpits like little spiders, crawling around with feathers. 

Your arms shot down, trapping his twitching fingers into your overly sensitive hollows. “YES!” you screeched, giggling and kicking your feet as your skin prickled with heat. 

“Awe, does someone have a case of the giggles?” Ryland cooed, his lips coming dangerously close to your neck.

You had something on the tip of your tongue, a glorious insult that would leave him shocked that you had come up with something so clever, but all of your words got swallowed up by your laughter. As his fingers continued wiggling into your armpits, you screeched and twitched and could do nothing more until Ryland pulled his fingers out, allowing you a great breath of air. 

“You. Are. Awful,” you heaved out, still squirming around in a desperate attempt to get rid of the phantom tickles. 

“Yes, so awful for giving you exactly what you wanted. Practically the worst.” 

You nodded. “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing reason.” 

“Don’t make me go back to your armpits,” he threatened, holding up a finger but you only giggled.

“Alright, have you had enough little tickle magnet?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, looking back out at the ocean, another vision of him burrowing his stubble into your neck appearing to you in a haze.

Ryland gently took a hold of your chin, pointing you back towards him. “Why do I get the sense you’re getting bashful on me again. 

You covered you face with your hands. It should’ve been enough, you shouldn’t need more, but your brain was stuck on the image of his hands buried in your armpits and his head nuzzled into your neck. 

“What do you want?” Ryland prodded softly. 

“I can’t,” you groaned from beneath your hands. 

He pulled them away from your face with some effort. “Come on, we’re all weird here. You can ask.”

You closed your eyes to talk since he had taken away your wall of protection. “It’s too embarrassing."

Ryland grabbed a hold of your shoulders. “To be known is to be embarrassed, or something, come on, out with it.”

You shook your head but finally looked up at him. “I can’t.”

“Here, I’ll close my eyes, will that help?”

Somehow his offer only made you feel more squishy and you groaned as your face only got more hot. “Can you keep doing the thing you were just doing? “

“Tickling your armpits?” 

You nodded, and he started to grab ahold of your hands again but you held him off this time. “Wait, can you do the other thing too?”

“The what?” Ryland asked, leaning closer towards your face. 

You were fairly certain that speaking the words outloud might send you to an early grave, but you forced them out anyways. “Can you raspberry my neck too?”

“While I’m tickling your armpits?” he asked, raising a brow. 

You nodded, your words starting to fail you again.

“Wow, Erid made you brave, didn’t it?”

You were about to comment that it did, that the love of your friends had altered you as a human and your ways of communication, but you didn’t have the time cause Ryland was tilting your head to the side and taking in a deep breath.

You barely had enough time to take a breath of your own until he was burrowing into you and sending you into another peal of laughter. He shoved his fingers back into his armpits and you jolted with the shock of his fingernails curling against your skin. 

You were both fighting him and leaning into him, unable to pull yourself away from his stubble nuzzling into your neck, and simultaneously shaking your head to get rid of his horrible raspberries vibrating across your nerves. 

Your brain stopped making words, instead just falling down the slide of consciousness in a steady humming stream of it tickles, it tickles, it tickles. You screeched and wiggled around but it was all just a reaction, not an intentional thing you were doing. Your mind started to drift away on you, leaving you airy and pleasantly floaty. 

Pretty soon you realized you were still giggling but Ryland was no longer tickling you. 

“Had enough fun over there giggles?” he asked, peering down at you. 

“Yehehehes!” you said, too tired to remember that you didn’t usually admit that. 

Ryland lit up in a smile, a lack of snark in the way his lips twitched. 

He pulled you up, sitting you upright on the couch, and you let him manhandle you, allowing him to use the arms that he’d worked so hard to get back. 

He rose to get off the couch and you stared at his face, backlit by the moon. He took a step towards the door, and you grabbed ahold of his wrist.  

“Cahahahlm down, I’m just going to go get your water. I’ll be right back,” he squeezed your shoulder and left the door open as he went. You watched him as he traveled to the island and all the way back to you. 

“See, I promised, didn’t I?”

You remembered Adrian’s words from earlier and ruefully smiled to yourself. “A promise is how I got here.”

Ryland sat down next to you again. “How?” 

You took a long swig from your waterbottle. It was bad enough that you were going to have to tell this story later, but had already used up all of your embarrassment for the night so it would be tomorrow's problem. “Adrian made me promise that I’d tell you I wanted tickled.”

Ryland clucked his tongue. “Wow, you said the word again.” 

You lightly smacked him in the arm. “Because I’m still stupidly giggle drunk.”

Ryland smiled at you and cozied into the couch with a sigh. You leaned into his shoulder and he cradled the back of your neck. “Does that mean you can’t go to sleep yet?”

“Probably,” you glanced up at him from the corner of your eyes. “-but you’re welcome to go to bed.”

He shrugged you up. “No, I’ll stay up with you for a little bit.” 

“Just let me know when you want to go inside,” you murmured, stifling a yawn that was refusing to back down. You nuzzled into his sweater and stared out at the fake sea in front of you. 

You knew that above your little biodome was a galaxy of vast stars, and while the world was still unknowable and scary at times, you were glad that you had stuck around to see it all.

///

It was interesting how humans could be bored in any circumstance.

It's not like there wasn't plenty to do on the Hail Mary. Research was constant and - astrophage and taumoeba aside - even just hanging out with Rocky was enough to keep things interesting. First alien contact, and all.

And yet, you were bored. Not just kind-of-bored where you could maybe occupy your mind with something or other, but the painful bone-deep kind of boredom where - no matter how much you wanted to - you could not get yourself to even move.

Briefly, you thought of the full access database of…well, everything, that you and Ryland were given with your laptops. But even a Wikipedia deep dive didn't sound engaging.

Rocky rolled over to where you were sprawled on the floor, feet propped up against the bed.

"Why not working, question?" He asked, no preamble. You heaved a sigh.

"Don't want to." You said blankly.

"Something wrong, question?"

"No." You said. "I'm just bored."

"What 🎶 mean, question?"

It hadn't occured to you that Rocky didn't know the word 'bored'. You thought for a moment.

"It's a feeling you get," you explained, staring up at the ceiling. "When you really want to do something, but nothing seems interesting enough to do it."

Rocky was silent for an extended few seconds.

"That sound stupid." He said.

You turned your head against the floor to look at him. "Do Eridians not get bored?"

"No." He managed to sound judgemental, somehow. "Everything interesting, always. Many things to do and learn, always."

"Huh." You mused, turning your head back towards the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"How stop 🎶 feeling, question?" Rocky asked. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking.

"I guess the best way is to force yourself to do something." You admitted, knowing Rocky would find this whole concept ridiculous. "It's easier when you can do it with someone else."

An idea sparked in your mind.

"Hey, Rocky." You said, lifting yourself up onto one elbow, turning to him. "Do you know what a 'prank' is?"

"No."

"How about 'joke'?"

He perked up. "Yes, Rocky know joke. Grace say joke is to make others laugh."

"Yes!" You said, smiling. "So a prank is similar. It's when someone tricks another person to make a joke. But it has to be harmless. If it hurts the other person then it's just mean."

"Trick not lie, question?"

"Sort of." You agreed. "But it's about something small. And the other person finds out about it in the end, so they can laugh about it too."

"Understand."

You grinned. "Want me to show you how a prank works?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Show Rocky human prank!" He wiggled happily.

"Okay, but you have to promise to not say anything about this to Grace." You told him firmly. "If he knows we're doing it, it won't work."

"Yes, yes, yes, promise, promise, promise!"

You pressed your fist against his dome. Rocky mirrored you.

@

You glanced to your right from your perch on the stool. Ryland was busy scribbling on the whiteboard he had moved into the lab room.

You looked down. Rocky was a few paces away from Ryland, soldering something or other.

It was a good time to strike. A few hours had passed since the three of you settled into your work, and the silence had stretched and streched until it became taught with stress and tiredness. But for some reason your heart rate picked up.

You fiddled with your laptop for a moment, trying to gather your will.

Ryland huffed sharply, and wiped half of the board clean. You watched as he restarted his calculations.

Well, no time like the present.

"So you know how the earth is flat?" You asked, trying to keep your voice light and casual. The marker stopped squeaking against the board.

"Excuse me?" Ryland frowned, looking over his shoulder at you.

You kept your eyes glued to the laptop. No going back now.

"I was just thinking." You continued, clicking to another tab. "Do the windmills act as propellers?"

"What are you talking about?" Ryland sounded like he didn't know if he should be concerned or confused. He set the marker down with a click, turning to face you fully.

"You know!" You waved your hand vaguely. "They're propellers so they're bringing us closer to the sun? I figure that's where global warming comes from."

There was a long pause.

You fought not to look at him. If you did you'd start laughing and give the whole plan away.

"The earth isn't-" Ryland started, then cut himself off. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah?" You feigned confusion, risking a quick glance at him. He looked comical - eyes huge, brows pinched together, hands hanging limply by his sides. "Anyway, what do you think? It's a good theory."

"That is not a good theory." Ryland said, incredulous. "It's not even a theory - it's madness!"

"Why?" You clicked through more tabs, then lifted your hands to make quotation marks gestures with your fingers. "Because 'the earth isn't flat'?"

"The earth isn't flat!" He sounded distressed. "It's round! It's an orb!"

"Oh yeah? And how do you know?"

"We're literally in space!"

"Sure." You allowed. "But I didn't get to see earth. So, who's to say?"

Ryland narrowed his eyes and looked down at your feet where you were bouncing your heel nervously against the leg of the stool.

"How Grace know earth round, question?" Rocky piped up from his spot.

"Huh?"

"Grace say always test yourself. If Grace not test, how Grace know earth round, question?"

Thank god for Rocky, you thought in relief.

"Alright." Ryland placed his hands on his hips. "What's going on with you two?"

Before you could reply, Rocky spoke. "Nothing, lie."

You closed your eyes in silent anguish. It hadn't even occurred to you that Rocky wouldn't be able to lie out loud because of his syntax.

"Oh, 'nothing', huh?" Ryland demanded, looking back and forth between you and the Eridian. "'Lie', huh?"

"Grace, listen-" You started, turning on your stool to face him. Seeing his expression - shocked, offended, miffed - a snort burst out of you. You pulled your lips into your teeth to stop yourself from grinning.

"So the two of you just thought it would be funny to spew lies and conspiracy theories?" Ryland continued, aiming the question at both you and Rocky although his eyes were locked on you.

"Rocky was curious about how pranks work." You shrugged, still fighting back a smile.

"Oh yeah? And who told him about them, I wonder."

You rolled your eyes. "God, you sound like such a teacher right now."

"We're supposed to teach him correct concepts." Ryland said. "Not about underground lizard people."

"I never said anything about lizard people!" You objected. "Come on, Grace, we just wanted a laugh."

He looked at you silently for a moment.

"Okay." He said, folding his arms. "C'mere then."

You faltered. "I feel like I shouldn't."

Ryland didn't speak. Only waved his fingers in a beckoning motion and pointed at the floor in front of him.

Shit, you thought concisely.

Slowly, reluctantly, you slid off your stool and walked towards him.

"Hmm." Ryland hummed, scanning you up and down.

"What?" You demanded, flapping your arms out.

"If you wanted to have a laugh," he said, voice lilting. "There's a much faster way to get it."

Your heart skipped. Double shit. "Grace. That wasn't my inten-"

"Your intention?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly. "As if you don't know how to get exactly what you want out of me."

"I'm not having this conversation." You said with finality. "I'm leaving now."

Ryland's arm wrapped securely around your middle, pulling you backwards into his chest, as soon as you turned to walk away.

"Grace - wait -" You stuttered "-this isn't fair - ack!"

"What isn't fair?" Ryland asked calmly, squeezing at your waist. His other hand came up to scribble on the back of your neck, where you had dropped your head forward to hide your reaction from him.

"What about Rohocky?!" You hated how your voice pitched up into a whine.

"Rocky is innocent." Ryland said. "He was coerced into this scheme by your evil little mind."

"Yohou're the evil one!" You kicked your leg out, hoping to create enough momentum to break free.

"How so?" He asked, pulling you back to him as if it were an afterthought. His hand veered to scratch around your ear.

"You know how!" You accused, reaching up to pull Ryland's hand away from your ear by the wrist.

"The same way I know that earth is round?" Ryland teased, letting you pull his hand away. "Who's to say?"

With that, he pulled against your grip on his wrist, and took hold of your jaw.

"Grace, I swear to god, I will-" You intensified your pulling and kicking.

"You're not gonna do anything." He said easily, and blew a raspberry on your neck.

You laughed desperately, legs nearly giving out under you. Ryland broke off from the raspberry, cutting it short by his own chuckling at your reaction.

"Oh man." He said through his laugh. "That was adorable."

"No it wasn't." You gritted out, jerking your head out of Ryland's grip. He let you, instead using that arm to wrap it around your middle along with the other.

"No?" He pressed his cheek to your hair. "You're right, it wasn't just adorable. It was also very cute."

You growled, feeling your face flush. You angled your head further away from him to hide it.

"You're sweet, and silly." Ryland continued, squeezing both hands against your waist gently. Just enough to get you giggling. "And you had to come up with this elaborate plan when you could have just come and asked me to tickle you."

Through the haze, you thought: I'm going to die here.

"That wasn't the plan." Your objected, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Ryland hummed in faux sympathy. It made your stomach do a flip.

"Let me goho." You whined. You actually whined. The realisation made you flush hotter.

"Awh." Ryland clicked his teeth. "Hard to get away when you're giggling so hard, huh?"

"Whahat do you want from me?" You were not above begging at this point.

"There is one thing." He mused, shifting one hand higher to your ribs. "But I'm not sure if you'll be able to do it."

"I'll doho it!"

"Will you behave?"

"Yehes!" You nodded your head. Pretended not to hear his wheezy laugh at how quickly you complied.

"Will you stop telling Rocky conspiracy theories?"

"Thahat's more than one thihing!"

Ryland increased the speed of his hands. "Will you?"

"Yesyesyes!" You yelped, pulling at his arms.

"Alright." He chuckled lightly, stopping his ticklish attack on you, but held firm as you tried to catch your breath. "Good."

You let your head drop back against Ryland's shoulder, your chest heaving. He rubbed his cheek on the side of your head softly, letting you get your bearings.

"Rocky have question, statement."

You jolted, shocked by his voice. You had forgotten he was even there.

"Yeah, bud?" Ryland asked, maneouvering both your bodies slightly so he could look at him.

"What mean lizard people, question?"

"Oh noooo…" You groaned, flopping your head forward.

"This is your doing, squirmy." Ryland informed you.

"I plead the fifth."

"I guess I did make you promise not to tell him about conspiracy theories." He mused, releasing his hold on you, but keeping both palms pressed to your shoulders. "I'll handle this one."

"I'm just gonna -" You made the mistake of looking at Ryland's face. His expression told you he knew exactly what you were going to say. "- I'll be back."

There was a look you shared, sometimes, whenever you successfully provoked him into tickling you - although you didn't always need to provoke him. Sometimes, you'd just look at him pleadingly, and he'd know. And after, you'd wipe tears of laughter from your eyes, and he'd adjust his glasses, and it would be there on his face. A knowing.

It was why you felt comfortable asking without asking, when the wanting arrived - you’d hide Ryland’s things, act extra snarky, squeeze his knee under the table - and if he didn’t tickle you, he still usually gave you some similar form of playful affection. It nearly always worked. 

Nearly.

This time, though, was different. Despite your best efforts to drop hints all week, it appeared Grace was too engrossed in his work to pick up on any. You’d prodded his ribs, thrown in plenty of sarcastic jibes - and, though you were loathe to admit it, deliberately stretched for high shelves a few times within tickling distance. All that, and Dr. PhD still hadn’t gotten the message.

So…no, he wasn’t helping at all. 

You'd looked into the science of it, once. Hugs released plenty of endorphins. It stood to reason touch-starved individuals might feel drawn to affection that caused laughter, which would release an extra kick of dopamine. It wasn't unfathomable that some people enjoyed being tickled.

So you knew you wanted it. And you could take a reasonable guess at why.

Didn’t make it any less humiliating to think about, though.

And now, after hours trying and failing to shut it out, there's a stubborn, giddy flutter settled between your heart and stomach. Your brain runs circles around the recent lack of touch, helpfully providing you with visions of hugs, playfights, cuddles, tickles, tickles, tickles-

This is bad.

You tap your pen furiously against your notepad, berating yourself for getting distracted again. A simple dilution calculation sits unfinished, abandoned in favour of your oddly specific yearnings.

C₁V₁ = C₂V₂.

The formula stares at you. It's simple: just plug in the values, make the needed solution. You’ve done it a million times by now.

Across the room, Ryland drums his fingers on the bench, his glasses habitually crooked as he contemplates his own data. It's only in your peripheral, but it's enough to scatter any possibility of concentrating. Your eyes linger a nanosecond too long on his hand, and you absolutely, totally do not contemplate his fingers tapping one-by-one like that against your ribs, so it's fine. You're fine.

Fuck.

Perhaps something more visual will help. You nudge the chair back, and grab a sample for the confocal microscope.

It's a more complex setup than the little desktop ones. Takes an eternity to switch the thing on - a million buttons, and loading screens, and safety checks.

You pass the time gazing intently at the desk.

Finally, it's ready. Taking a seat, you slot the sample in, and your hand drifts to the coarse focus dial, the sample shifting up and down with each movement. You will your eyes to stay locked on the viewport.

Your elbows bump against the desk as you hunch over the eyepiece. It's not comfortable, but you're used to it at this point, and it leaves your torso rather open to - nope. stop it.

Too late. The thought of hands, squeezing suddenly at your sides, flashes through your mind. Kneading. Poking. Teasing. A person, no one in particular, crowding closer to trap you against the bench, laughing low near your ear, his glasses bumping your neck-

God.

The fine focus does not make things any clearer.

"I can hear you thinking." A voice nearby. You nearly fall out your chair. Grace is stood over his laptop, hands propped against the table, glasses slid down his nose. Just…watching, apparently.

You steady your breathing. “Uh- what?”

“You’re distracted.” He steps closer.

“No, I’m not.”

“So…you meant to do that?” He points to the sample, which you have elegantly smushed against the microscope lens during your adjustments. Great. You rest your brow against the eyepiece in defeat.

“How many cover slips are we gonna lose to you, hm?” Ryland mutters, guiding you off the chair with a hand on your shoulder. 

You nudge him. “Shut up.”

He nudges you back. “Hey, I’m looking out for our equipment, here.”

You reach over, adjusting his glasses for him. “You’re dragging me away from my work.”

He grins. “Work? What work?”

“Rude.” It’s too easy, really, to swipe your fingers over his neck – your hands are already there, and your brain has been screaming affection affection affection for hours now. 

Grace, of course, leaps back with a squeak, half a giggle escaping before he regains his composure, hand held to his neck.

Mischief flashes through his features, for a moment. But he doesn’t take the bait. 

“Alright, alright, sorry.” He folds his arms. “What’s going on?”

You huff. “Nothing, just…”

“Bored? Tired?” Ryland supplies. Your gaze drifts inexorably to his hands, which trace idle patterns over his own arms. 

You are not going to get any work done like this.

“Kinda.”

You stride over, placing your hands on his shoulders, expression dour.

He tilts his head, frowning slightly.

“What, you need a hug?” His arms open wide, and you take the offer, even if it’s not quite what you’re after. It helps.

You spend a moment gathering your thoughts, Ryland giving you a brief but tight squeeze. It gives you the confidence to draw back and face him again.

“All good now?”

Heat crawls up your neck. For the fifth time in as many days, you give him The Look - the one that usually says everything you need it to. 

He raises his eyebrows, uncertain.

“Okay, so…not all good, then?”

“Grace.” Your voice nearly cracks. Delirious, you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose - but…no, there’s not a glint of malice in his eyes.

“What, what do you need?” He’s completely oblivious.

 “I want-” The rest of the words won’t come out. You give him one last pleading stare, hoping he’ll know the look in your eyes this time.

“What, what is it?”

Shit. You’re going to have to spell it out for him. 

“Um- it’s been a while since- uh.” The next few seconds are filled with your various stutters. Grace sits through it all patiently.

Okay, deep breath. You place your hands together, and brute-force the words out.

“I, um. I want you to tickle me.”

Silence. 

He leans back against the counter, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he finds something interesting.

And then, slowly…he smiles.

“...So you can ask for it.” His voice carries that familiar teasing lilt.

“You-You knew?”

“You are not subtle.” Grace doesn’t give you time to process the betrayal - just lunges forwards, scooping you into a hug from behind like it's nothing. His hands latch onto your hips, squeezing rapidly, and he laughs at the way you instantly start sinking downwards. 

“That was so hard for you, wasn’t it?” He muses, spidering his fingers over your stomach, following you towards the floor. “You were thinking about it for days!” 

That fluttering, hopeful thing from earlier does somersaults inside your chest, revelling at the familiar electricity running through your veins. The giddiness and joy at being held this way, despite Grace’s teasing, puts a silly grin on your face. You put your head in your hands, legs flailing wildly as you reach the ground. But Ryland’s not having it - he grabs your wrists, and slots out from behind you, choosing instead to sit over your legs. He pins your hands over your head, leaning closer.

You refuse to meet his gaze - and in your defence, it would be hard to - Grace’s free hand walks two fingers along the inside of your bicep, moving steadily towards your underarm. It’s rather distracting.

“Grahace-”

You risk a glance at him.

Bad idea. That grin is evil.

“You really missed this, didn’t you?” His hand swirls a tiny circle over your tricep, and your giggling stops being anticipatory. You frantically shake your head. 

“Yea, you did.” He laughs, a sing-song tone to his voice. His fingers creep lower, slowly tracing around your navel. Your breath hitches in your chest, delicate laughter stuttering out.

“You missed being tickled.”

The heat rising to your cheeks is mortifying - you let out a noise somewhere between a giggle and a whine. 

“Aw. Sorry, am I embarrassing you?”

“Yes-!” His hand abruptly claws at your side, and you tip your head back, lost in laughter. “No! Nonono-”

“Yes? No? Which is it?” Grace laughs. It’s a wicked noise. Horrible, even. You vow to yourself that you’ll tickle that laugh out of him once you’re free.

“FUCK you-” 

“Tsk. That’s rude.” He stills his fingers, leaning in to look you in the eye. “I won’t tickle you then.”

…If the ship’s hull somehow breached, right now, and you fell through the laboratory floor into the frigid vacuum of space, you would spend your last moments grateful for the feeling of the cold against your raging blush. 

Grace is attentively watching your reaction - which consists mostly of hiding your face against your pinned arms, and giggling through residual laughter. There may have been a very embarrassing flustered groan, but you don’t dwell on it.

“...Well?” He hovers a clawed hand over your tummy. “You owe me an apology.”

“Sorry, sorry-” You manage to squeak out, eyes closed tight once you see what he’s doing.

“...And?”

“And what?”

“And, what would you like me to do?” Grace looks at you expectantly. 

Oh no.

He’s waiting for you to ask him again.

“Absolutely not.” You open your eyes. His hand is closer. 

“...I just think it would help to practice asking, is all.”

“Ryland.”

“Ryland, now, huh? Must be bad.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, just a bit. Just an inch away. You can’t help it - you laugh a little.

“Plehease!”

He considers this - observes the shade of red your ears have turned - and snorts.

“...Alright, fine, be dramatic.” 

His hand makes contact with your torso, sliding your shirt out the way as he spiders a pattern across your skin. Then, hand still poking along your side, he leans down, and blows a raspberry.

You forget most of the English language for a moment, back arching in a useless attempt to throw him off, your focus completely consumed by the playful, buzzy feeling under your skin. At one point, you make either a snort or a hiccup, you’re not sure, and Ryland laughs against your belly, which tickles even more. Once he runs out of air, he pulls back, and pays attention to your ribs, his fingers climbing up each one with horrible, ticklish accuracy.

“...Two…” he mutters. You furrow your eyebrows between giggles, confused by the lack of context.

“GRACE-!” You manage to shout, unable to form a sentence through the combination of laughter and utter mortification. Pulling at your arms does nothing.

“Shush, now, you’ll make me lose count.”

His hand shifts to the next rib, one finger positioned above and the other below as he digs lightly into the space between the bones, and keeps counting.

“Three-”

Ok, now you actively wish there was a hull breach. 

“Four-” He continues, picking up his pace slightly to observe how your legs kick out more in response. “Only twenty ribs to go, you’re doing great.”

“Screhew you-!” You’re careful to leave the profanities out this time.

Grace smiles. “On second thought, this is going too slow. Fivesixseven-” 

His hand crawls rapidly upwards, slightly trailing towards your spine as it does so. At long last, he lets your hands go, so he can have both of his back. The freedom doesn’t do you much good - you feel like a puddle. Your limbs can barely move from the laughter. You hold onto Grace’s wrists loosely - but don’t push them away.

“You gonna let me go?” By now, he’s got both hands jammed under your arms, barely moving. He doesn’t need to move them, really - you keep squirming and laughing yourself into an infinite feedback loop with them stuck there like that.

“Plehease-” You can’t think through the giggles.

“I’m not doing anything! I’m not moving!” Grace is laughing along with you at this point, apparently highly entertained by your predicament. “Oho, you’re adorable.”

By some miracle, you finally manage to lift your arms enough for him to draw back. He doesn’t touch you again - just sits back, watching as you flop your arms over your face and ride out the tsunami of residual giggles he’s caused. 

After ten seconds of this, he leans forwards again, poking at your wrist. 

“You ok under there? Did I break you?”

If you hadn’t just been tickled to pieces, you probably wouldn’t have grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. But you have, so that’s what you do.

“Hey,” He laughs, stroking your hair. “Happy now?”

And despite the mischief in his tone - despite the stomach-flipping embarrassment you feel - despite the fact he’d known what you wanted the whole time - you nod. 

Ryland grins wider. “Good.”

Then, he leans over to catch your eye, his voice a tad smug. 

Ryland was starting to notice something about you. The days on the Hail Mary were typically long ones considering neither of you really went to bed at a regular hour. The synchronized clocks on the ship often went unnoticed as there was constantly something new to figure out about the mission. While Ryland was guilty of having a terrible sleep schedule, he couldn’t help but frown at the sight of you hunched over the lab table late into the night.

He saw the dark circles sagging beneath your eyes and each day they seemed to get more prominent. If he had to think about it, he didn’t really see you sleep that often, aside from a small nap here and there but naps weren’t enough compared to the full eight hours required to have a restful night.

Ryland could probably count the amount of hours you’ve slept on a single hand, and tonight was no different. He found you sitting at the lab table once again, scribbling down complex math equations.

“You should head to bed. You’ve been hunched over that notebook for hours,” Ryland said, standing by the archway between the corridor and laboratory.

“I will soon,” You mumbled. You didn’t even bother looking up from what you were doing.

Ryland wasn’t going to take that as an answer. He walked over, hands in his pockets as he stopped right next to you. You saw him from your peripheral and looked up.

The blueish tint of skin under your eyes formed near semicircles and the way you squinted up at him made them stand out even more. He frowned. “Your eyebags are worsening.”

You slowly blinked. “It’s fine. They’ll go away after some rest.” But he knew that some rest to you was just a thirty-minute nap at best.

Ryland crossed his arms. “When was the last time you slept more than two hours?”

There was a long pause. You stared at him before your gaze started to drift off to the side. Your lips screwed up in shapes, trying to mentally count and remember when you last properly slept.

“Uh…two…no…fffo—fi—er…” You had to resort to using your fingers to count. Ryland watched as you recounted over and over, bending your fingers up and down.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. You couldn’t even remember when you last slept a full night!

“Some time ago,” You said as if that was a solid conclusion.

“You think?” He responded in exasperation. “Okay, put the pencil down, we’re going to bed right now.”

“Huh? But I’m not done—“

“You can finish tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep. And I mean the full eight hour sleep. Not a two hour nap.” Ryland was going to make sure you go to bed no matter the cost. But you were not one to make things easy.

You stared at him. “No.”

His eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no.” Oh you were in big trouble.

Ryland heaved a sigh through his nose. He gave you a look, the one you assumed he gave his students when they had been disruptive or said something inappropriate. You weren’t backing down. Not without a fight.

“I’m going to count to three. And if you don’t get up and walk yourself to bed, I will drag you there myself,” he said.

You didn’t break eye contact. “I dare you.”

It was like a stand off between the two of you. Ryland stood there, his arms now lowered to his sides. You remained seated on the stool. No one moved from their spots.

“One…”

You kept staring at Ryland.

“Two…”

His hands flexed.

“… two and a half…”

At this point, you turned around and went back to completing the equations. Ryland was flabbergasted by your dismissal. That always worked on the kids! They would immediately apologize after. Or if they decided to be a little snarky, he’d tell them he had to call their parents. Or tell them they would have to stay after school. That would shut them up real fast. Unfortunately, neither option was possible in this situation.

“I mean it! I’ll drag you to bed and tie you to it!” He sounded a bit more desperate, waving his arms around.

“Kinky.” Was all you said back.

That made Ryland blush red, either from frustration or the insinuation, he wasn’t sure but what he did know was that you were more stubborn than any student he’s ever dealt with.

“That does it…” He muttered under his breath. “You wanna play hardball, then I’ll play it your way.”

Ryland stepped up behind you, wrapped his arms around your middle, and pulled. It would’ve worked had you not already been gripping at the table. Ryland was a strong man, the muscles he gained during the coma were not just for show, but even he struggled trying to yank you away from the table. You had the death grip of an infant!

“Let! Go!” He huffed between each pull.

“No!” You hissed back. You even went as far as hooking your feet around the bolted legs of the stool.

His grip around you was starting to slip so he readjusted, his hands clawing into your sides to get a better grasp. Though the sudden squeak that tumbled out of your mouth startled him so much he almost let go out of reflex, worried he had hurt you.

“Shoot, did that hurt?” Ryland asked, trying to peek over your shoulder to see your face.

One of your hands had let go of the table and was slapped over your mouth. You didn’t say anything in response to Ryland’s worries, afraid that if you did, you would expose yourself right then and there. Ryland’s hands squeezed gently at your sides again, testing to see if you were hurt anywhere and if he may have agitated a bruise or something.

You flinched, folding in on yourself. Your hand was pressed against your mouth to muffle another squeak. Ryland was still very much confused by your reaction. You weren’t yelping or hitting him in distress or pain so you didn’t seem to be hurt. He squinted. The tips of your ears were red and he saw some color dust across your cheeks that were raised, as if you were smiling. He was slowly putting the pieces together.

“Wait… are you…?” Ryland whispered.

Oh no.

You shook your head before he could even finish. Ryland grinned. “Oh, you are.”

You weren’t even given a countdown this time before his fingers began wiggling into your sides. They pinched and squeezed through your clothes. Unfortunately for you, you were only wearing a thin graphic t-shirt and baggy sweats. Wearing the corduroy jumpsuit had felt too restrictive so you opted for looser and more comfortable clothing. You regret your decision now.

Your whole body folded in on itself as you twisted in Ryland’s arms. He kept one arm wrapped around your chest and used that hand to scribble underneath your exposed armpit while the other one sneakily slipped under the hem of your shirt, dragging his nails across the waistline of your pants.

You snorted, desperately trying to fight back the giggles and squeals that threatened to spill. Your free hand slapped Ryland's arm repeatedly, but he was unphased.

“Aw, what’s the matter? You did this to yourself. You could make it all stop if you just, let go.” He cooed right next to your ear. You shook your head. “No? Then I guess I’ll keep going until you change your mind.”

The hand underneath your arm shifted just a bit higher, moving up to get to the underside of your bicep. He tugged lightly at the short sleeve, worming his fingers through the opening to tease the sensitive hollow. You flapped your arm helplessly, but you couldn’t exactly squeeze it down since you were still holding onto the table.

“Snrt!” Another snort slipped out, followed by a few giggles bubbling up your throat. Your eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed as your lips twisted to hold back your laughter.

“C’mooon, you can’t fight it forever. I’ll just keep tickling you until you can’t take it anymore,” Ryland teased. He even went as far as rubbing his slightly grown out stubble against your neck while he danced his fingers around your stomach.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your face was near red as a tomato, cheeks comically blown up before you broke. “BWAHA NO—!” You shrieked. Your hand slipped from the table, leaving only your legs still hooked around the stool. Your hands slapped and pulled at Ryland’s, anything to relieve the unbearable ticklish sensation spreading across your torso. “Ryhyhy! Stohop ihit!”

Ryland’s face had the biggest grin as he watched you fall apart. He wished he could turn you around and see your expressions though. “See, I knew you could do it! Now we just need those legs loose.”

He leaned forward slightly and clawed at your thigh without remorse, even going between where your thigh meets your hip. You squealed and kicked out, freeing one leg. “Now the other.” He did the same to the other side and you pleaded through your uncontrollable giggles. This was completely unfair!

With one final tug, Ryland had you suspended in his arms like a cat, arms and legs dangling as you caught your breath. You still giggled a little from the tingling sensations. He didn't make a comment about it and simply carried you to the dormitory. Both beds were ready and made thanks to Armando.

He plopped you down on yours, that stupid grin still playing on his lips. “You lost, so now it’s bedtime.”

You grumbled under your breath at his words, crossing your arms. “Cheater.”

Ryland chuckled and ruffled your hair. He grabbed one of the blankets and tossed it over your legs. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

You watched him make his way to the neighboring bunk and settle down on it. The lights of the dormitory dimmed but remained light enough to faintly make out your surroundings and Ryland’s figure just a couple feet away. You reluctantly laid down on the plush mattress.

The minutes ticked by and you still couldn’t fall asleep. You tossed and turned, pulled the blanket over your head, buried your face into the pillow—everything! Nothing was working. You huffed out openly. If you can’t sleep, might as well do something productive. You still have to map out a path towards Tau Ceti-E, calculate the rest of the Astrophage stored in the tanks and draft up a work-in-progress device with Rocky to collect samples of astrophage from the exoplanet. There was so much to do and not enough time.

You laid there in silence for a couple more minutes until your brain was screaming at you to get up and go back to work. Ryland could sleep all he wanted but you had things to do. Tossing the blanket off, you pushed yourself to sit up—and immediately you were shoved back down. You let out a startled gasp, eyes blinking in the low light until you saw the outline of Ryland’s form hovering above you. The glint of his glasses made him look like some kind of villain.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He mumbled, voice slightly gravely.

You gulped. “Uh… the bathroom?”

A few seconds of silence passed. “You are such a bad liar.” And then you felt it.

Ryland’s hands crawled under your shirt and skittered up your sides. You squealed and attempted to curl up but Ryland just pushed you back against the mattress. His fingers clawed along the underside of your back causing you to arch into the air and cackle.

“If not bed time, then tickle time.”

You could barely see anything and that made everything ten times worse. Your hands balled up into fists and pushed at Ryland’s shoulders, your head thrown back as uncontrollable giggles and squeaks filled the dormitory.

“RHylahahand!! No plehease!” You whined.

Ryland just chuckled under his breath. You felt him lean down, his weight holding you in place as you tried to twist and squirm away. His hands just followed every single one of your movements. “Liars get punished. That’s the law.” His thumbs massaged between your ribs while the rest of his fingers scribbled along the back of your ribcage.

Your torso bounced up and down as you wailed out hysterically. Your brain was overwhelmed by the unbearable ticklish sensations electrifying your nerves. Being tickled into absolute oblivion made it impossible for you to listen to any of the nagging voices in your head about going back to work.

All of a sudden Ryland pulled his hands away and raised them in the air above you. You were left giggling and confused as you peeked open your eyes. He grinned down at you, fingers wiggling in a taunt.

“One.”

Oh fuck no.

You tried to buck him off but it was futile.

“Two.”

Giggles bubbled up again, your hands held out in defense to block the upcoming threat. “Nohoho waihit! Waihit plehehease!”

Ryland paused the countdown, a shiteating smirk on his face as he saw you flinch in anticipation.

“Three.”

He dropped his hands down to your hips, his thumbs slotting themselves just below the bones and digging into that sensitive muscle. You jerked beneath, a shrill sound escaping you before you fell into deep laughter.

It was at this point that Ryland noticed you weren’t fighting back as much. One hand tugged weakly at his shirt and the other pressed into your face, half hiding half acting as some form of grounding. It was cute but he wanted to see your expressions.

He pulled your arm away from your face and pinned it above your head and—jesus, did his heart skip a beat at the sight. The dim lighting softened your features, creating an almost halo effect. Your smile was wide, cheeks raised, and flushed, just faintly visible underneath the low light. Your hair was slightly tousled, pieces falling into your face, but he could still see the way your eyes squinted into crescents from how much you were laughing. You were absolutely glowing.

Ryland’s hand eased up on its prodding, now gently tracing along the edges of your hip. Your laughter died down into hiccupy giggles, shimmying when Ryland’s nails teased a bit too inward.

“Plehehease… noho mohohore. I’m tihired…” you whimpered at Ryland, eyes teary with mirth. That wobbly smile of yours made Ryland’s heart tremble.

“Are you sure? Are you tired enough to go to bed? Because I can keep going if you’re not feeling it just yet.” He mused softly. His fingers gave a quick scribble over your hip and you squeaked, a burst of giggles tumbling from your lips. The sound was enough to make Ryland awe audibly.

“Yehes! I aHaham! I’ll go to bed! I will!” You pleaded.

Ryland finally released your wrist and removed his hand from your hip. He chuckled in amusement when you just laid there, breathing heavily and not even bothering to fix your shirt (he did it for you and grinned at the few giggles he got from doing so).

“Fihinally…” you breathed out a heavy sigh, eyes shutting as a wave of drowsiness washed over you.

Ryland could see you were telling the truth about being tired. He went to move off of you but a weak tug on his shirt stopped him. He looked down and saw you looking up at him through lidded eyes. “Stay…” you murmured out.

An arrow struck right at Ryland’s heart. He couldn’t say no to that. The cots were a bit small for two people but Ryland managed by rolling on his side and pulling you in close against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist and you tangled your legs with his. It was undeniably the warmest and coziest Ryland’s ever felt in his entire life.

He couldn’t help but drag his fingers up your spine as a last minute tickle. You squeaked and giggled, burying your face into his chest. “Ryland!”

He laughed softly. “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it. I’m done, I swear.”

The two of you settled in a comfortable snuggle, arms draped over each other, your forehead pressed right against his chest. He realized after a couple minutes that you were already fast asleep. Your lips parted as you breathed out steady puffs of air. His hand cradled the back of your head as his fingers brushed through your soft locks. He gave you a little squeeze.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the stickiness on your arms and legs. It’s slightly soft, not gooey or greasy, but strong in its grip. You try to wriggle and are met with firm resistance. Panic begins to creep in through the haziness of your still sleepy mind and you take a few quick, deep breaths, trying to keep yourself calm as you survey exactly what sort of trouble you’ve landed in. 

You aren’t hurt, which is good. The last thing you could remember from before losing consciousness was falling for what felt like–– well, not that long, actually. Time had stilled for seemingly a moment or two and then there was nothing. You must have passed out before you’d landed in…. what exactly did you land in? You shift your head from side to side as much as you can in order to get a better view of your surroundings. 

At the far edges of your vision, you can see the dark grey rock walls of a cavern. You aren’t sure how big it is because you can’t quite see the cave room floor, the little bit of sunlight trickling in from above quickly being swallowed up by shadow. Around you, intricately braided ropes of white stretch from wall to wall, forming a spindly basket of shapes and patterns that glisten like crystal shards.

It’s a web. A gigantic spiderweb. 

All the warnings you’d been given about the humongous arachnids local to the area start flooding back to you. ‘Avoid the deeper parts of the forest,’ your neighbor had told you when you’d first been moving into your new cottage. ‘The underbrush is so dense, it makes the entrance to underground caves— spider holes, we call ‘em— almost invisible. If you’re not careful, you’ll fall right in!’

Internally you curse yourself for not heeding their advice. If you had listened more seriously to their rambling, maybe you’d have some idea of how to get out of this situation, but as it stands, you’re stuck. Which is not ideal. 

You spend a few minutes attempting to tug yourself free, practically thrashing in your efforts, but the web holds you tight, merely bouncing back and forth with your movement. You go until you’re panting hard before finally relenting and relaxing again. It’s probably best to conserve your energy. You take a few minutes to catch your breath, feeling the web slowly return to its previous stillness beneath you. 

And then it wobbles again. 

You freeze. The dip you feel can only be caused by something very large and very heavy. Your eyes jump from shadowy crevice to shadowy crevice, searching frantically for whatever had just made its presence so purposefully known, and then your gaze flits upwards and your stomach drops. 

Eight eyes, black and glittering, stare down at you from the dark. Despite not being able to see its full form, you can tell the spider is monstrously huge. It keeps itself hidden, tucked away from the sunbeam peaking in through the canopy. You’re frozen in place, both literally and figuratively. There is a long moment where nothing moves but the web, still swaying slightly under the spider’s weight, before something suddenly crawls out from the shadows beneath the giant arachnid. It takes a second for you to register what exactly it is. 

Another spider: much, much smaller than the first, so small its presence doesn’t disturb the web at all. It creeps down towards you in graceful, careful strides, its movement slow, almost hesitant. You feel like you should be trying to get away from it, but instead you just watch, stiff as a board, as the little thing stops an inch from your face, its multiple tiny eyes surveying you with what seems like curiosity. 

It shifts a bit closer, and you can almost picture it cocking its head to the side like a puppy. One minuscule leg reaches out, brushing against your cheek, so light it almost feels like the tip of a feather. You’re so baffled by the sensation that you don’t even realize the spider has moved until you register it crawling onto your head. 

Your face screws up in discomfort and you go even more still, as though maybe if you just didn’t move, the spider would grow bored of you and scurry away. It doesn’t. You clench your fists tight as you feel it move from your hair, to your forehead, to your temple, down your cheek, under your chin… 

Oh. That tickles. 

Your expression scrunches for a very different reason now. The spider’s little legs slowly making their way across your throat feel like someone is brushing a miniature feather duster across your skin. You try very hard not to react, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your lips together in a stubborn attempt to supress the wobbly smile spreading across your face. It’ll move away from your neck eventually. You can handle this. It’s not that bad. 

Something tiny and soft rubs up against your wrist and your eyes shoot open. 

It seems you’d been so focused on that one baby spider’s actions, you’d failed to notice the arrival of many, many more, none of them larger than your fist, some of them smaller than a coin. They surround you almost completely, blinking at you with the same curiosity as their sibling. You and the army of little spiders stare at each other for a long second… and then you jolt when the one by your wrist begins to crawl up your arm, a handful of its brethren following suit. 

The sensation of them on your forearm isn’t too horribly ticklish, but you can feel your sensitivity rising as their feathery feet move towards your shoulder. You squish your lips together in a tight line to try and fight off the inevitable as one spider meanders across your collarbone, another lingers in the crease of your elbow, another slips beneath your sleeve, and very quickly all your defenses collapse. Your upper body jerks, making the web twinge yet again, and the remaining spiders shift and scurry around you, drawn in by the sudden motion.

“Ah–– eehee––! Wait!” You squeak a little as more tiny tormentors start to close in. “W–– Wait! Wait!”

Your protests fall on deaf ears, the spiders seemingly only encouraged by the sound of your voice. One wiggles its way under the fabric of your tunic and you can feel it taking slow, exploratory steps across your lower stomach. When it reaches your naval, it stumbles, surprised by the sudden dip in terrain, its fuzzy leg falling into the depths of your bellybutton. This earns another squeak from you. 

“Ack––! Get–– get out ohohof there–!” 

You wiggle your hips in a fruitless attempt to dislodge the spider, and you can hear it softly clicking in distress as you do. Unfortunately this does little more than bring more of its concerned siblings beneath your shirt to investigate the commotion, their downy feather bodies brushing like teasing fingertips over the sensitive stretch of your tummy. 

Crap, crap, crap. The little spiders aren’t stopping. They’re also not attacking you, or trying to eat you, which you suppose is a good thing, though it’s hard to appreciate your luck when you’re busy trying not to dissolve into helpless laughter. Your eyes frantically jump from side to side before landing on where the giant mama spider is still skulking in its shadowy corner. Its multitude of eyes haven’t left your squirming form for a single moment. 

What is the purpose of this? Is this what giant arachnids are known for? Are they tenderizing you, preparing your body for consumption in some weird, horribly ticklish way? Or maybe they’re just genuinely curious about your warm squishy flesh and the way it writhes when touched. Your neighbor had spoken like people falling into spider holes was commonplace, but maybe they were exaggerating and this is the first time these creatures have ever seen a human. Gods, you wish you’d taken the time to learn more about the stupid magic forest surrounding your town. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have— 

“Aha–– eeheehee––!” Breathless laughter interrupts your thoughts. “Nn––nnnahahaha!”

One of the baby spiders moves up your side and your giggles jump as it softly crawls over your right ribcage. There are a lot of them on you now. Thankfully only a select few have figured out how to access the soft, sensitive skin beneath your clothes, but the ones that had are quickly proving to be your biggest concern, finding tickle spots even you were unaware of. 

A particularly small spider nestles itself into your navel. When it reaches the bottom, it keeps crawling, trying to move deeper and supposedly very confused by the warm little tunnel ending so abruptly. The sensation makes you squeal and thrash. A separate but equally effective spider skitters around your ear, barely a whisper against the cartilage. The waistband of your trousers are— thank the gods— too tight for any of the little pests to wiggle past, but your relief at this quickly morphs into even gigglier distress as one of the ones by your left boot finds it way under your pant leg. You try your hardest to kick your feet in instinctive protest as you feel it crawl from your ankle, to your calf, to the back of your knee, where it seems to settle itself comfortably into that sensitive concavity. 

“Ahaahaha! Oh–– Ohoho gohohods–– stop ihihit!” 

Your voice pitches up into a squeaky hiccup. There’s so many of them and they’re everywhere, only a few precious stretches of your skin left untouched by the spiders’ ticklish skittering. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-encompassing, it feels like it will never end, and then, out of nowhere, all movement stops. The tiny creatures on your body come to an abrupt halt and everything around you stills. 

Almost everything around you stills. 

The web is wobbling yet again. It moves in deep, dipping shudders as something very large and very purposeful makes its way down towards your trapped, helpless form. You want to run; you want to tear yourself from the sticky prison encasing you and hightail it all the way back to your little cottage, but your limbs are too tired from squirming to even attempt an escape. You pant, skin prickling under the frozen touch of the baby spiders covering it, and wait for the inevitable with your eyes shut tight. 

But the inevitable doesn’t come. A gargantuan shadow is cast behind your eyelids and you tense yourself in preparation for the sting of a bite, yet in place of white hot pain you instead feel a small, careful tug at your tunic. As your mind races to grapple with the lack of fangs sinking into you, the fabric of your blouse is gently but unceremoniously ripped open. Goosebumps erupt as the cool air of the cavern hits your torso and your eyes shoot open. 

Those eight glittering eyes stare down at you, each one as large as your head with a color akin to polished obsidian, your own terrified face reflected back at you from within their inky black depths. The spider shifts its giant maw downwards, fangs speckled with saliva, inching closer and closer to your now very exposed and very vulnerable stomach. 

I’m gonna die, you think. I’m going to get eaten by a giant spider and I’m gonna die. And I just paid off the mortgage on my stupid cottage. 

Except the giant spider does not eat you. The feeling of its jaws pressing into your skin is not followed by white-hot pain; in fact you don’t think it even broke the skin. For a moment you’re completely baffled as to its motivation, the reason behind its apparent mercy, and then everything clicks into place when its mandibles twitch, gently tweaking the sensitive bit of tummy beneath your bellybutton.

“Wh–– wha––ahahAHA––!”

You can’t even properly react to the new stimulation before the various baby spiders dotting your body start to chirp and shift, almost vibrating with contentment, seemingly very happy that their mother is joining in on this new experimentation of theirs. You’re instantly overcome by squealing laughter as your trapped form is riddled once again with soft, quick, horribly ticklish sensations, now with the added torment of the giant spider’s gentle mandibles squeezing and pinching your stomach. 

If the little spiders’ fuzzy bodies were akin to feather dusters, their mother’s rounded fangs are like deft, nimble fingers. It’s an absolutely torturous combination. You aren’t quite sure what tickles more: the ghosting of barely there plumage all over your skin or the pointed, concentrated teasing above your waistline, practically digging into your sensitive flesh. 

“AhahAHAHA! St–– stohoHOHOP–– EEHEEP––!” Your noises hit their crescendo. The giant spider, silent and stoic in the face of your helpless hysterics, stares down at you as it pokes and prods and pinches endlessly. “I–– I cahahAHAHA–– I cahahan’t–– pleaHEEHEEHEASE––!!”

Every inch of you is thrashing against torturously ticklish touches both light and forceful; it’s all you can feel. Even the stickiness of the web entrapping you has long since faded into the background. In the deepest recesses of your mind you suppose you should probably still be worried about being eaten, but currently all you can think about is the sensation of little eight-legged menaces scurrying over your overly sensitive body and how their mother’s mandibles are so, so horribly effective at tickling that you almost wonder if they were designed specifically for tormenting you in this way. 

Your vision blurs; your insides hurt from laughter. You aren’t quite sure where you are anymore. Is this your life now? Are the spiders going to tickle you until you pass out, or explode, or die? Any or all of those options feel equally likely with the way your brain is starting to melt, lost in the overwhelming experience of being utterly and completely overcome with tickles. You think you might not be able to take a single second more…..

And finally, finally, it stops. 

It takes you a moment to realize the spiders are retreating. The feeling of them slipping off of you is so similar to the earlier tickling, you don’t notice your torment has been paused until suddenly your skin is a lot more bare than before. Your ears are ringing. All you can hear is your own ragged breath as you take in gulps of cool cavern air. When your eyelids crack open slightly, you just barely register the gigantic blurry shape of the mother spider and its hundreds of children backing away from your exhausted form. God, are you exhausted. You’ve never felt so tired in your life. You can’t fall asleep here, you absolutely should not fall asleep here, but despite your best efforts you can feel yourself slipping into the oh-so tempting arms of unconsciousness.

You wake up, much to your surprise, in the infirmary. As your village’s healer feeds you a foul-tasting concoction, you learn that apparently unsuspecting townsfolk falling into spider holes is a regular occurrence, even more so than your anxious neighbor had implied. It’s so regular, in fact, that there are nightly patrols of the forest and underground caves to check for any unfortunate victims. You want very much to ask if every person who finds themself stuck in a giant spider’s web winds up being tickled to tears, but you can’t quite force the words out. Perhaps you really were just particularly unlucky.