#lericky

"You can't fall asleep!" Leriya snaps, shaking him. "If you fall asleep, you could die, and if you die, I'll do unspeakable things to your body! Mark my words!"

Ricky lets out a weak, sort of sick, watery chuckle and manages to crack one eye open, a bit of a struggle through the congealing blood on his eyelashes.

"Damn, girl, is that a promise?"

The Swallowtail rocks with the force of the explosion and Ricochet is laughing, loud and boisterous.

"Did you see that?!" He cheers, pumping a fist. "Those pirates won't be bothering anyone anytime soon!"

Leriya peeks around his head to watch the resulting debris float past the cockpit window. "Or ever," she says.

"Just how I like it," he says, offering a hand to her, palm up. "Hit me, Needle."

Leriya does so, punching him hard in the shoulder. Ricochet jerks to the side and whirls toward her. Even unable to see his face, his indignation is clear.

"What was that for?!"

"You said to hit you!" She replies, baffled by his anger.

"I meant give me a high-five not a bruise!"

"How was I to know that?!"

"How were y— how wouldn't you?! Who asks someone to punch them?!" He taps the side of his helmet and it retracts, leaving him glaring at her.

"I am not human," she responds, "what is a high-five and how would I know to give you one?"

Ricochet looks upward, letting out a long huff of breath. "Don't act like you weren't absolutely itching to whack me, Needle."

She can't help the grin that spreads over her face, sharp toothed and mischievous.

"Thought so."

Leriya sinks down into the copilot's chair, kicking aside fast food boxes and other miscellaneous items.

"Is it food?" She asks, flicking her finger against one of the strange little figurines on the dashboard.

"Is what food?" Ricochet asks. He's slid the vehicle into autopilot as he slips off his gloves and tucks them away somewhere.

"A high-five."

"Oh! No. It's a gesture," he explains, "usually to celebrate something."

"Like pirates getting their asses kicked?"

"You know it," he replies with a wide grin.

Leriya leans back comfortably, resting her feet on the dash and returns the smile. Such a funny thing, bearing your teeth to show happiness, to disarm, to connect, it excites her.

"Show me how to do a high five!"

Ricochet scratches the hair on his chin. "Are you going to punch me again?"

"Only if you ask nicely!"

He huffs out a laugh. "All right. All right." He holds out his hand once more, elbow bent, palm out. "Hit your palm with mine, it's easy as that."

Leriya winds up and he snatches his hand away.

"Nicely! You aren't trying to break my hand, relax!"

She giggles and pulls back, softly tapping her hand against his.

"And that was just wimpy," he chides, "give it some oomph!"

"If I hit too hard you get mad, if I hit too light you get mad! What do you want?!"

"Like this," he says, slapping his hands together. "See?" He does it again. "Not too hard, not too wimpy, give it a nice solid whack."

Leriya nods impatiently. "Okay. Okay. Let me try. Let me try."

Ricochet holds out his hand again and she smacks her palm to his. It makes a nice, satisfying clap that has her beaming. "Oh! I get why you do that! It's fun!"

"Yeah! You're getting it now!" He holds his hand up higher. "Up high!" She obliges. He moves it to the right. "To the side!" She hits it again. He moves his hand to the left. "To the other side!" Again, she complies. He holds his hand down, palm still up. "Down low!" Leriya winds up. Just as her hand is descending, Ricochet jerks his out of the way. "Too slow!"

She gasps, offended, and then he's laughing so hard he has to lean back in his seat, shoulders shaking and eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey!" She shouts, annoyed. "Hey! Why did you do that! Why would you move your hand?! Hey!" She tries to slap his arm but he moves it, still cackling. "Ricochet!"

"Ricochet," she whispers, still straddling his lap, her hands cupping the back of his neck.

"Hm?" He hums. His head is tipped back and his hands are still resting on her thighs.

"You're a human, aren't you?"

It's the wrong thing to say. He stands up so fast she tumbles out of his lap and lands on her ass.

"What the fuck are y—"

He doesn't say anything, just fixes his clothes, grabs his jacket, and leaves the room. The door slams shut behind him.

"So why do you need me?" He asks. "This seems like a one person job."

Leriya lashes her tail. She knows why she wants him to come, but she can't just tell him she doesn't want to face her family alone and he's the closest thing to a friend she has.

"Because they're gonna pay bank to get the heirloom back and I know your last job didn't pan out so well," she says.

Ricochet stares for a while, and then he shrugs. "Good enough for me."

She doesn't know why she's seeking comfort. She's never wanted to. She's never had to. Back then, Leriya would let the little barbs from her family roll off her back, she'd stopped trying to fit in, stopped trying to please and achieve when she realized she never could. Her sister fought tooth and nail to be loved and Leriya fought tooth and nail to escape.

So why Ricochet? He's not nice. He doesn't have the warmth and gentle encouragement she longed for as a child. He's blunt and secretive and prickly as a spine fish, but. But.

But he takes her seriously.

Maybe that's all Leriya wanted as a kid, when her parents seesawed between constant criticism and straight out ignoring her.

She wanted to be seen.

And Ricochet sees her.

He goes back to check that she's docked Zipp II all right. He nearly walks right into her as she comes through the door. They stumble back from each other, staring.

"Hey," he says finally.

"Hi," she says.

"What were you off doing?"

Leriya shrugs. "Stopped at a random waystation casino. Had a few drinks, slept with a few people."

That shouldn't upset him, but it does. Ricky shoves that down. "Oh."

She lets out an angry hiss through her teeth. "I can do what I want!"

"I didn't say anything! I did the same thing, anyway."

She stiffens and whirls around to glare at him. "What."

He frowns. "What, I'm not allowed to sleep with someone?"

She grabs him by the lapels of his jacket. "No! You can't! Who is she? I'm gonna kill her!" She's legitimately mad, her tail lashing sharply behind her.

Ricky gapes for a second. She has yanked him upward on to his tiptoes, like he weighs nothing to her. It's a little overwhelming.

"What the fuck? No!" He shoots back. "If I have to tell you that, you have to tell me who you slept with!"

She growls, legitimately growls, and tugs him closer to herself.

"I don't want you sleeping with other people!"

"What? And you can? That's not fair!"

"I don't want to sleep with anyone else, you idiot! I just want you!"

Ricky stares. "Wh-what?"

She stomps one foot, petty and childish and angry as can be. "Promise me you won't sleep with anyone but me!"

"Okay, okay, I promise, geez, it wasn't even that good, anyway."

She glares at him for a little while longer, her shoulders heaving with anger, before she relaxes and lowers him back to the floor.

"Good." She steps away like she's going to leave.

"Wait, don't walk away, explain what "I only want you" meant!"

"It meant what I said!" She snaps. "I could fuck every person in this galaxy and none of it would matter cuz they aren't you. It's not the same if it's not you." She lashes her tail. "Cuz you know me. You see me. It's fucking terrifying, but it… it feels good. To be seen." She directs her glare at him, jabbing him in the chest with one clawed finger. "If I'm not gonna sleep with anyone but you, you gotta do the same! It's only fair, right?"

"Right," he says.

Leriya smooths his hair back with her fingers. It feels so different when it's wet, the curls flattened from the weight of the water and darkened to an inky black. Ricochet reaches with his good arm for a bottle and pops the lid open.

"Shampoo," he says. Leriya tips her head to the side.

"What's that?"

"Special soap for your hair," he says. "Dunno why we need special hair soap, it's just a thing we do."

"Okay," she says.

He instructs her to hold out her hands and empties some of the soap into her palm. It has a sharp, almost floral scent, and when

Leriya rubs her palms together at his direction, it suds up. She starts applying it to his hair from the roots to the ends as he tells her to. Almost as soon as she starts doing that, his eyes slip closed and his head tips back, like her scratching his scalp with her nails is the most relaxing, comforting feeling ever. She's never seen him like this, quiet and vulnerable, trusting her enough to have his throat exposed to her. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a long, shuddery sigh. A drop of water slips down from the outer corner of his left eye and vanishes into his hair. Leriya studies his face, scraping her nails over his head from the edge of his hairline to the back of his neck. He lets out that shaky breath again, and another drop of water slips down his cheek. She realizes, sort of suddenly, as another one falls right after the other, that they're coming from his eyes, not from the shower.

What do humans call that? She knows they have a word for it, but… she can't recall it. She keeps rubbing his head as she thinks, trying to remember. She wants to remember.

"I'm gonna turn the water over you back on," she says softly, sliding her hands out of his hair to rest at the sides of his neck. He hums in response, so she reaches behind him and pushes the button. He flinches slightly when the water strikes his face.

"Sorry," she says, putting her hands back into his hair to help rinse the suds out.

"'S fine," he mumbles, tipping his chin back down. He pulls in a harsh breath through his nose and wipes at it with his shoulder, before slowly blinking his eyes open. The white parts look reddened and irritated. He catches her eye and frowns. "What?" His voice sounds scratchy, like it's caught in the back of his throat. She shakes her head, feeling a little sheepish for some reason.

"Nothing," she says, and turns the water over him back off once all the suds are gone from his hair.

He raises his head from its bowed position and blinks the spots that swim into his vision from the movement. His surroundings, which look to be the furnishings of a shitty hotel room, complete with cracked walls and ratty curtains, are tinted red from the visor of his nanotech helmet, thankfully still in place. The pain in his head pulses with each beat of his heart and the steel chair he is bound to isn't exactly the comfiest. He pulls slightly at the cuffs, rattling them against the arms of the chair.

"Good morning, Ricochet!" 

He nearly jumps out of his skin and whips his head around to locate the owner of the obnoxiously familiar voice. The movement makes his head spin.

Needle is lounging on the bed behind him, a glass of wine in one clawed hand, teal lipstick marks along the rim. She grins at him and waves smugly.

Ricky groans. "You.”

She giggles, sipping her wine, and swings her feet off the bed. "Surprise! Did you miss me?" 

He scoffs. "Not one bit."

"Aw," she pouts, "that's too bad! I missed you!"

Ricky rolls his eyes.

Needle stands and strolls past him to the table across the room, trailing her fingertips over his shoulder as she sweeps by. She sets down her empty wine glass and spins back around to face him.

“How’s your head?”

His head feels like shit.

"What did you do to me?" Ricky asks. 

"Oh, relax," she says, smirking, “you’ll be fine. I just drugged you a little bit.”

“A little bit? What’s that supposed to mean?!”

She only grins. 

“Needle!”

“I told you you’ll be fine! You’ll have a bit of a headache, sure, but it should clear up in a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Give or take.”

“How did you even manage to—”

She steps up to him and straddles his thighs, sitting herself down on his knees and clasping her hands behind his neck, her fingers brushing against bare skin between the collar of his jacket and the bottom of his helmet. “You have a little strip of exposed skin right here, Ricochet,” she says, “Just a centimeter or two, but it's enough to get a needle in there.” 

“Te odio.”

Needle snickers. “Don’t be silly, you don’t hate me, that’s just your headache speaking.”

“No, it's me speaking,” Ricky replies.

She lets out a surprised, but genuine, titter of laughter at that.

“I didn’t know you had jokes, Ricochet!”

That only serves to make him more annoyed. He hadn’t been making a joke! “I wasn’t—”

“Speaking of your headache,” she interrupts, leaning close to him and trailing one nail down the side of his helmet. "You could take this off, y'know. Might help it go away quicker.”

"Not a chance," he shoots back. 

She pouts. "I want to see your face."

"Like I said: Not. A. Chance."

She lets out a disappointed sigh, leaning back. "Boring."

Ricky rolls his eyes. "Whatev—” 

He’s cut off again by a loud thud coming from the closet to the left of them.

“Mierda!” he blurts, startled. “What was that?!”

Needle sighs as if she’s been wildly inconvenienced and stands up. “It’s just Peter Beck.”

He’s confused for a second, before remembering why he was in this ratty motel in the first place: to apprehend one “Jiggly” Peter Beck and bring him back to the Druid 515 system for a significant reward. And Ricky had caught him. And promptly been knocked out by Needle.

“Needle, you—”

“Yeah, hold that thought,” She says, flinging the closet door open. 

The target really is in there, tied up tightly and blinking at them over a gag, rearing back to kick at the door again. Needle stops him by digging the pointed toe of her boots into his ribs. “You stop that,” she scolds. “We were having a moment!”

Jiggly Pete looks over at Ricky with wild eyes and mumbles something out from behind his gag. 

“I’m not helping you,” he replies, rattling the cuffs on his wrists. “I’m in the same situation as you.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Needle puts in, “I didn’t catch that, can you repeat it?”

They receive a frustrated, muffled, wordless scream in reply. 

Needle grabs the target up off the ground and drags him out of the closet. “Well, I’ll be on my way,” she says. “I had fun, Ricochet.”

“Hold up, are you—”

“Stealing the bounty? Yes, absolutely. Although it’s not exactly stealing, is it, since you have no claim until you turn him over.”

“I can’t believe you!”

Needle snickers and grabs the wine bottle off the table. “Don’t let it keep you up at night, spaceboy,” she replies, tucking it under her arm. 

Ricky splutters wordlessly for a moment as she drops Jiggly Pete on his face to open the door. 

“Hey, wait, aren’t you going to uncuff me?”

“Hm?” She looks back over her shoulder to look him up and down, swiping her tongue over her lips. “No.”

“What?!”

“You’re clever, you’ll figure it out.”

“Like hell I will! You need a key for these cuffs! They get tighter the more you struggle!”

She grins and just points past him to the table. “I know that. I left a little something to help you out.”

The key to his cuffs lies in the center of the board, glimmering a bit in the setting sun and well out of reach.