#lee!simon

Grace nearly beamed at the fact that Simon was letting him help. It had been a rocky road getting Simon to trust him. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what possible science could’ve led Simon to appear in his airlock, mutations and all, covered in blood. From what he’d managed to piece together, it’s clear that the two men came from very different universes. 

Grace bumbled over and kneeled next to Simon. He gave the younger man the benefit of the doubt as Simon fidgeted nervously at the proximity. He could tell Simon was not used to care, medical or otherwise. Grace carefully unwrapped the bandages on Simon’s amputated arm and inspected the wound.

Simon had never felt this clean before. He’d ardently refused when Grace offered to help him wash (“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”), but had cooled down when Grace showed him the sponge bath area and given him privacy. His body was clean. He smelled decent. He was even wearing clean clothes—Grace’s. 

A lot of laundry had been done on the Hail Mary since Simon appeared—he’d bloodied a lot of sheets. Grace seemed to have endless patience. Simon didn’t understand it.

Grace made quick work of the injury originally. Simon hadn’t trusted Armando, so the robot had given verbal instructions while Grace tended to Simon’s wounds. 

Simon watched as Grace hummed something to himself and re-bandaged the wound. It felt strange to Simon that Grace was the one kneeling. He thought it should be him, prostrating himself for his sandy-haired savior. He didn’t really believe he was alive, still. He felt that some part of him had been transported to an alternate reality—Heaven, maybe—while his true self died an infinite death in the blood ocean. He felt grateful that his soul, his consciousness, was here in this bright and quiet place. 

Grace patted Simon’s shoulder gently. “All done,” he said, face sunny and open. Grace couldn’t believe there was another human with him. He asked Rocky about a million times if his alien friend was seeing Simon too, worried he had finally lost it.

“Thanks,” Simon said gruffly. Grace’s eyebrows raised before he could school his expression into neutrality. Simon had seemed grateful from his body language, but was wary of him and hadn’t spoken much, not even to say thank you. He’d only asked questions with a fearful undercurrent in his voice. 

“It’s no problem,” Grace said. “Really. I’m happy to do all of it. I’m just glad to have company.”

Simon nodded. A moment of silence passed before Simon spoke up again. “Can I show you something?”

Grace perked up. “Of course.” 

Simon used his free hand to pull his borrowed t-shirt over his head. It was a bit of a struggle, and Grace almost intervened, but he didn’t want to embarrass or rush Simon, so he waited patiently. He glanced away for a second when Simon’s chest was revealed, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but looked back when he understood it was a medical question.

Simon lifted his amputated arm and used his good arm to point to something just below his armpit. It seemed to be a growth, but not like the tooth mutation on Simon’s face. It was a brownish mutation with tendrils spreading across Simon’s upper ribs. 

“I think it’s the thing that was grabbing at me back in the sub,” Simon said. “I- I wasn’t sure what it was, so I don’t know how to explain it. But I don’t think it’s part of my body.” 

Grace nodded. “Do you want me to try to remove it?”

Simon hesitated. “I just… I don’t want to touch it myself,” he said anxiously.

Grace’s brows furrowed. He could tell there was some trauma there. “Okay,” he said. “I can try.” 

Grace reached up and skimmed his fingers gently over the substance. It didn’t grab onto him or move in any way, so Grace assumed it was stable. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and started to gently pry it off. Simon winced a few times, but ultimately the substance came off cleanly, leaving only a small patch of irritation on Simon’s ribcage. 

“See? All better,” Grace said warmly, relieved himself that it came off without a struggle. 

Simon’s torso sagged in relief. “Thanks,” he said again. 

Grace grinned. Two thank yous! Take that, trauma therapists. Maybe one molecular biologist is enough to cure PTSD. 

Well, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself a little.

Simon’s expression turned slightly puzzled at the big smile, but he dismissed it as another Grace quirk. Grace wasn’t like anyone he ever met. He lowered his amputated arm slowly. 

“Hold on, I want to put something on the rash,” Grace said. He grabbed a tube of something or other and propped up Simon’s arm gently. 

Grace squeezed a dollop of the cream onto his finger and dabbed it gently onto the rash. Simon twitched. 

Grace paused. “Does it hurt?”

Simon shook his head. Grace continued. Simon shifted again.

“Are you sure?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, I- it just feels weird,” Simon stammered.

“Weird how?” Grace murmured, finishing up with the rash cream as quickly as possible to limit discomfort. 

Simon lowered his arm. “Like, itchy? But not like usual. It makes me feel kind of…warm.”

Grace frowned. “Hmm. Can I try something?”

Simon shrugged. 

Grace ran his fingers gently around the rash. Simon shivered. 

Grace chuckled. “Oh, I know what it is,” he said. “You’re ticklish.”

“I’m what?”

“You don’t know what that is?” Grace said in a shocked tone.

“No,” Simon said self-consciously. 

“Huh,” Grace said, sitting back on his heels. “Tickling. It’s a nervous system response to protect vital organs. There are places on the human body that are more sensitive. If someone else touches them gently, you feel kind of tingly and often it will make you laugh. Different people are ticklish in different places.”

“Why…why would you do that? It sounds dumb,” Simon grumbled.

Grace smiled. “It’s like play. Kids do it. Sometimes people do it when they’re adults too. I don’t know, it’s just to be silly.”

“Oh,” Simon said, a punched-out sort of noise. Play. Not much time for that in Eden. That explains why he hadn’t heard of it. 

Grace waited patiently for any further reaction. He started to pack up the medical supplies he’d used, giving Simon space.

“Can I try?” Simon spoke up.

Grace turned around. ”Hmm?”

“Can I try the tickling thing?”

“Oh,” Grace said, blushing slightly. He shifted to sit next to Simon instead of kneeling in front of him. “Yeah. Sure.”

Simon waited patiently, if a little apprehensively. There was a moment of silence. “Are you going to… do anything?” Simon asked. “Never mind, this is so fucking stupid, I—“

“No, hold on, it’s not stupid,” Grace said gently. “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Okay,” Simon said. His voice was unusually small.

Grace ran his fingers gently on the same spot he had before, just on the side without the rash. Simon’s good hand instantly batted Grace’s hand away. 

Grace paused, withdrawing his hand. “You good?”

“Sorry, instinct,” Simon muttered. Grace swore he could see a hint of red on Simon’s cheeks. 

“All good,” Grace said cheerfully. He lowered his hand back to Simon’s side and squeezed gently. 

Simon let out a choked sound, twisting away from Grace’s hand. “Wh- why does it feel like that?” Simon said, his voice a bit higher pitched than usual. 

Grace chuckled. “It tickles,” he replied. “Weird, huh?”

Simon’s frown deepened, but so did his light blush. Grace took this as a sign to continue, knowing Simon was much stronger than him and could stop him if necessary. 

Grace squeezed gently up Simon’s side again before landing a few pokes on Simon’s belly. Simon didn’t laugh, but a few more grunts and choked noises escaped his mouth. 

“You’re not gonna laugh?” Grace asked, an endeared smile on his face. “You’re allowed, you know.” 

“A-allowed?”

“Yeah,” Grace said gently, sensing that there was more behind this request than Simon was letting on. 

It was quiet for a moment. Simon jerked again as Grace’s fingers played around his bellybutton, a blunt “hah” noise forcing its way out of his mouth. 

“You say I’m allowed,” Simon grunted, “but don’t you gotta actually make me laugh first?”

Grace squinted, unable to discern if that was humor or a genuine question. He settled for humor, based on the set of Simon’s eyebrows. “Wha- are you saying I’m not doing a good job?” Grace exclaimed. 

Simon looked up into Grace’s eyes with an expression of mild mischief. 

“Wooow,” Grace said, a smirk spreading across his face. Internally, he was delighted that Simon was opening up and not being afraid to push back at him a little. “I can’t believe this. Mr. Big Scary Blood Ocean is provoking me for tickles.” 

“No I am fucking not—“ Simon protested, but he was cut off by honest-to-God giggles as Grace squeezed up his ribs. 

“Such a mouth on you, Si,” Grace scolded lightly. He dug a thumb into Simon’s pectoral muscle in retaliation. 

“Ahaha- Si?” Simon grunted, squirming away and trying not to smack Grace’s arm with his good hand. 

“You don’t like it?” 

A few breathless laughs later, Simon replied, “It’s fine, I guehehess…”

Grace tormented Simon’s top ribs until the man was shaking and huffing with silent chuckles. He was impressed Simon hadn’t pushed him away yet. 

“You‘ll tell me when you’ve had enough, yeah?” Grace asked.

“Y-yeah,” Simon said through gritted teeth. 

“Hmm,” Grace hummed, switching it up to try scribbling down Simon’s neck. He immediately tried to protect it with his shoulder, making a hissing noise followed by a few nervous giggles.

“It’s funny, you’re making noises like you’re in pain but you’re laughing,” Grace observed in a murmured tone.

Simon flushed at being scrutinized. “No, it’s cute,” Grace assured him. This did not help with Simon’s raging blush. 

Grace’s fingers migrated around the curve of Simon’s shoulder and snuck under his good arm, scritching gently along the soft hairs there. Simon jerked with a startled laugh, trapping Grace’s hand inside. 

“Aww, man,” Grace said playfully. “I’m stuck.” He pouted comically, wiggling his fingers around. 

Simon was beyond giggly. “Noho you’re not- gehet the fuck outta there- ahaha…”

“I’m 100 percent stuck and I can’t possibly get out,” Grace insisted with a cheeky grin. “Tickle tickle, Si…” 

“What- why would you fuhucking sahay that?!” Simon exclaimed through a few snort-laughs. 

“Ohoho, did you just snort?” Grace chuckled in adoration. “Uh- It’s like a thing you say. To tease the person getting tickled.” 

“Why does it make it so much worse…” Simon whined. 

Grace lifted his extra arm and found Simon’s other armpit, giving it the same treatment. “Because it’s silly, and it tickle tickle tickles!” He said in a goofy voice. 

Simon endured about another minute of being tickled under both arms, doubled over as if in pain but giggling towards the floor of the ship. When he finally had enough, he twisted his torso sharply and essentially shoved Grace away. 

Grace backed off instantly, his smile fading. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Simon said gruffly. 

Grace nodded slowly. “You know, if you say ‘stop’ verbally, I will stop,” he said gently. 

Simon looked up. “Really?” He hated how needy his voice sounded.

“Yeah,” Grace said. “Pinky promise.” 

Simon looked at the proffered pinky, and then down in his lap. He seemed to think for a second. Then, he made a decision. 

He offered Grace his amputated arm to meet the pinky in the middle, making Grace burst into amused giggles. “Sorry,” Grace chuckled. “I offered a one-armed man a pinky promise. Not my finest.”

Simon smiled despite himself at Grace’s laughter. A proud feeling expanded in his chest at having made him laugh. 

“Thank you,” Simon said for the third time that day before he could stop himself. Grace just smiled.

He watched Grace collect himself, and he let Grace help him put his shirt back on. He felt warm inside. If this was Heaven, he didn’t want to come back to life. 

He shook his head slightly to dismiss the feeling. He cleared his throat, smoothing his face into his usual serious expression. Simon trailed after Grace as he made his way to the lab—a part of the ship he hadn’t explored yet. 

Grace looked back, surprised but glad that Simon was following. He continued walking, a new bounce in his step.

“So,” Simon said eventually when he was seated across from Grace, watching him fix a broken piece of lab equipment. “Do you talk to everyone like they’re a child, or just me?”