#ticklish!reader

“fuckin’ hell, y/n,” steve nearly cried in exasperation when he saw your familiar figure, albeit with one too many twigs tangled in your normally slick, smooth hair.

“i told you not to looking for the fuckin’ demogorgon. and what do you do?” he wringed his hands up in the air, annoyance coating his pupils. “you go looking for the fucking demogorgon.”

you rolled your eyes. “steve, i’m literally fine. i hav-”

“no!” he yelled at you, and you shrunk back, suddenly timid.

“i- fuck. i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry,” he whispered, running a hand through his immaculate, perfect hair.

you looked up at him. through his farrah fawcett hair, you picked up on something in his eyes. something beyond his angry face- was that fear? wait, what the fuck- steve was crying. steve harrington, so unlike the nonchalant and cold demeanor of king steve- he was crying. crying because his girl had run off monster hunting.

“i can’t-” he sniffed sheepishly, hiccups laced within his shaking voice. “i can’t lose you. please don’t do this again.”

“please,” he begged again, rough hands cupping your face so tenderly you almost started breaking down with him.

“okay,” you nodded feverently, just to get him to stop.

it scared you shitless to see steve so vulnerable, so fragile. his fingers trembled around your nape and he pulled you in for a kiss, other arm wrapping around the curve of your waist. the kiss was slow, passionate, something out of a movie. his lips felt soft against yours- traces of salty tears within it and you pushed into his mouth desperately, linking your tongues in a seductive tango.

when steve kissed you- time stopped. you could feel his pulse in your veins, heartbeat growing faster and faster inside of you. when you opened your eyelids to look at him, you could’ve cried at the proximity of him, at the intimacy of it all. he was so beautiful. long, brown eyelashes coated his eyes and you wondered- how many times has steve harrington cried in his life? not for those random girls he hooked up with at parties, you hoped.

how many tiny fingers have traced up and down his biceps like you have? how many lips have touched his? how many hands have found themselves entrapped into his gel casted hair, pulling and tugging in pleasure? waves of nausea coursed through you. the next whore, you bet tommy h and carol call you. you pushed steve away. he blinked in confusion, clearly still entranced by the euphoric kiss.

your heart splintered as you turned to walk away and he grabbed your wrist, spinning you back into his grasp. a breath hitched in your throat as you pressed up against him. you could feel his bulge against your core, sending heatwaves straight through.

“what are you doing?” steve’s voice was entwined with hurt.

“i just- i just can’t.”

you couldn’t look at him. one more second of those puppy dog eyes boring into your soul would’ve made you run- not away from the heart breaking manwhore, but towards him. you were playing a dangerous game- and if you wanted to get out with your heart intact, you had to leave before it was too late.

you flung your wrist out of his hand and moved away.

“can’t what?”

you stopped. something must’ve possessed you at the moment because your lips suddenly started to quiver- a telltale sign of tears to come. fuck. sobs racked your torso and you almost collapsed to the ground. your hands frantically wiped at your eyes, desperate.

“hey, hey,” within seconds, steve had jogged up to you.

with his hand on your lower back, so gentle you could fall into his touch, he stroked your hair out of your face with his other hand, meticulously tucking it behind your ear. wet tears cascaded down your cheeks and you wanted to push steve away in embarrassment.

“talk to me, baby,” steve wrapped you into a tight embrace, and you damn near bawled into his new denim jacket- he didn’t seem to mind, only squeezing you tighter. he waited patiently for your breathing to calm, working his hands up and down your back in a soothing rhythm.

“you- you’re just fucking going to leave me.” the words left your mouth, barely a whisper, but hanging in the air.

“what?” incredulous, steve placed his fingers under your chin and lifted your head. you couldn’t look at him.

“i’m just another whore you can use to get off of and dump,” you snivelled pathetically, feeling his gaze on your snotty self. he won’t even want to fuck this mess of a person now- mascara running down your face, hair tangled.

“what?” steve echoed, sounding almost angry. “who told you that?”

“come on, steve,” you laughed, but without humour. bitterness coated your voice. “i know how this works. king steve pity fucks the new little bitch for a few months and leaves."

you finally looked up at steve. the aghast on his features was unmistakable. it was honestly impressive how offended he genuinely seemed. the creases on his forehead were evident as he furrowed his brows, nose twitching adorably- you’d be lying if you said you weren’t endeared. yet another manipulative trait.

“just fuck off, harrington.” tears blurring your vision, you turned to leave once again.

“y/n, stop.” something cracked in his voice. he held your face in the palm of his hands- somehow, you let him. your watery eyes hesitantly met his. you both started crying, just this messy symphony of anguished sobs echoing through the cold air of hawkins woods.

“i fucked those girls because- because-” steve swallowed heavily, eyes glossed over with something- something clearly affecting him to a higher level. “because i wanted to feel something. anything. my dad- he- he never let me be sentimental. i grew up feeling empty. being with those girls- they never meant anything. not like you. no matter how many of them i slept with- i went home empty. you, baby, you’ve filled me with so much i’m overwhelmed by you.”

“you’ve filled me with so much love and so much affection i don’t know how to act. i don’t-” steve’s eyes drooped almost shamefully. “i don’t know how to love. but i’m trying.”

steve’s thumb swipped across your cheekbone, taking oceans of tears with it. “baby, you’re the best person i’ve ever met. i love your hair. i love your eyes. i love your gorgeous, gorgeous face. i love how funny you are. i love how your eyes light up when you’re enthusiastic about something and i love the way you mess with my hair.

“i love you for you. i’d be lying if i said i didn’t-” steve stuttered, as if struggling to get the right words out. “i just - i really love you, baby.” 

you flushed, trying hold back your smile- he couldn’t win you back that easily. but he already has. you'd go through the depths of hell and back if it meant you would still be his baby girl. you could sense the genuinity steve was speaking with- feeling it deep in your veins. steve harrington loves me, you wanted to tell the world. fuckin’ hell.

steve’s demeanor brightened at your twinkling eyes and in classic harrington style, he took the opportunity to tease. “why would i keep you around for sex anyway? you suck at giving head.”

“it was my first time, steve,” you whined, but it pulled a dopey grin on your face. “how the fuck was i supposed to not choke on it?"

"you make me feel good about myself," steve winked.

you rolled your eyes. "not everyone has a body count of the entire hawkins female population, steve."

steve gasped indignantly and you giggled, satisfied.

“hey, wanna know what else i love you for?”

oh, bless your poor, innocent soul. “what?”

steve hoisted you up by the hips, entrapping you between the tree trunk and his toned torso, easily towering over you, causing you to yelp. without warning, he wrapped his hands around your ribcage and started tickling you.

“whahat thehe fuhuck?” you immediately burst into uncharacteristic giggles, hands grabbing but never able to stop steve’s quick, methodical squeezing along your stomach.

“i just love how insanely ticklish you are, baby,” steve beamed, and you groaned through your laughter.

“i- ihi am gohoing toho muhurder you,” you seethed and attempted (and failed) to look serious.

“aww, that’s a shame. who’s going to tickle you then?”

you flushed. your enjoyment of this form of affection hadn’t gone unnoticed. steve wasn’t too mean, though, considering your energy was half sapped from running in the woods and crying your brains out. he gave a final scribble to your hips and carried you bridal style, crashing through the remainder of the woods and reveled in the familiar sight of his red beamer.

by then, you were long asleep in his arms. he set you down on the car seat, pulling your seatbelt on and being careful not to wake you. kissing your forehead, he whispered some words he knew you would never hear- yet he needed to spell them out for the stars to see.

“you’ll be my first and last love.”

You were perched on the edge of the sectional with a stack of reports beside you, laptop open on the coffee table, pen cap clenched between your teeth. Your eyes were sharp, shoulders high with tension, jaw visibly set. You’d been like this for days - edgy, overworked, quiet, insular. Everyone knew why.

There was a summit in two weeks. A UN delegation. An avalanche of new diplomatic threads to untangle, several of which involved countries you’d gone on missions in recently. Your name was on every page of briefing notes and draft statements, and now you’d been snowed under.

"Hey. You good over there?" Sam broke the calm, directing his attention pointedly to the way your leg was bouncing.

You didn’t look up, but some kind of awareness flashed across your face and your leg fell still.

"Yeah. Good. Just focused."

Curt. Efficient. Not unkind, but final.

Loki, from his armchair, eyes appearing focused on the book in his lap, quirked a brow.

Bruce glanced up. "You've been at it for a while. You should really take a break."

"I was at the punching bag this morning."

Steve chimed in, not looking away from his tablet. "That’s training. Not a break."

"Feels like a break; I like training."

"You need to do something that isn’t work," Sam offered gently from his couch, falling easily into counsellor mode. "Take a beat. Do you have a hobby? A creative outlet would help."

You didn't look up. Just exhaled slowly through your nose. It was the kind of breath that meant I’m trying to be polite.

"I appreciate the concern," you said, very diplomatically, "but I have a pile of actual responsibilities in front of me, and knitting or bouldering is not going to rewrite the second paragraph of this response to the Wakandan delegation. If you'll excuse me."

You stood, gathering your laptop and papers, and exited the room with a measured grace that only barely masked how tense you were.

There was a moment of quiet as everyone waited for you to be out of earshot.

"She’s gonna snap," Bruce said, setting his mug down.

Sam sighed, arms crossed. "She’s in pressure mode. Doesn’t mean she’s angry. Just means she thinks stopping will make it worse. But we let it sit too long and it’ll turn into the wrong kind of burnout."

Steve sipped his coffee. "I’m watching it."

"She has been boxing," Natasha pointed out.

"She doesn't need more cortisol," Bruce muttered, "She needs a damn serotonin drip. Or something. Or someone. Honestly, just- someone make her laugh."

Natasha shrugged. "I could try."

Bruce winced. An unspoken: maybe it's best you don't.

"Wilson," Loki said aloud, not looking up from his book.

Sam turned. "Yeah?"

"You fancy yourself a comedian."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I mean... I am funny-"

"Then for Norns’ sake," Loki said, flipping a page with precise disdain, "do your job."

Natasha choked on a laugh.

Steve chuckled under his breath.

Loki felt his chest tighten.

The discussion annoyed him more than he expected. Not because of the concern - no, that part made sense. It was how they discussed it. They were talking in circles, wringing their hands, musing about serotonin and yoga, all while you were in the next room slowly grinding yourself down to the bone doing work that, if Loki wasn’t mistaken, concerned all of them.

Yet... you wouldn't allow a single report to be taken.

"Rogers." Loki snapped the book shut and settled back into his chair, perching his elbows on the upholstered arms. "Might I ask," he drawled, "are you the leader of this team or not?"

Steve’s brow furrowed slowly. "Excuse me?"

"You," Loki said plainly. "Stars and stripes. Human embodiment of a rousing inspirational speech. Are you in charge, or do you all simply loiter in proximity to each other?"

Sam raised his brows.

Loki didn't wait for an answer. "Delegate."

Steve sighed, long and deep.

"I’ve offered. But she’s protective of it; she cares a lot about the work, and her name is all over it. I can't just take it from her."

"Then order her to accept help."

"That's not how we do things," Steve said firmly.

Loki hummed under his breath as the others went back to their own little worlds.

Fascinating.

A room full of soldiers, spies, and scientists...

And yet none of them, not one, had the teeth to intervene.

The following morning, Loki found himself happening across an tiresomely similar scene, this time in the kitchen. The room smelled like toast and bacon and freshly ground coffee and the underlying tension of one person trying very hard to pretend they didn’t have basic human needs.

You sat at the island, dressed in your running tank and leggings, one foot planted on the stool, knee tucked to your chest. The thin veil of control you were clinging to was starting to crack, but you kept working, stubborn and relentless.

Sam leaned against the counter, nursing his coffee like it was a tactical manoeuvre.

"Just saying," he offered gently, "summit’s a couple weeks out. You could afford a break."

"I'll take a break," you said without looking up. "Once this section’s clean. It’s almost there."

Sam glanced over his mug, still trying to be gentle. "You said that yesterday. And the day before that."

"And when you said it Monday, it was 'just a few more paragraphs.'" Steve was crouched by the oven, checking on the bacon.

"I finally got a response I've been waiting for just before I was about to go for a run," you muttered, tapping a line of text and deleting it without mercy. "I'll go outside once I edit this section with this new info."

"Running is training. Training is work," Sam said. "You need something that’s not work. Something for you."

You sighed, long-suffering. "Something for me - something that'll make me feel better - is having this done."

"You know this is how burnout starts, right?" Sam’s voice was calm, but not soft. The therapist was peeking through. "You run hot for too long, you crash hard. You'll think better when your brain’s had room to breathe."

You gave him a look. It wasn’t angry. Just tired.

"And you think a watercolour landscape will clear my head?"

"You need fun. Your body needs endorphins."

"Exercise gives me endorphins."

"And cortisol. Which you've been running high on for almost a week. You need to let loose. Laugh. Give your body a break from the tension."

"I laugh," you said, with the driest tone possible. "You’re all very funny."

"Nope," Sam shook his head. "That’s not real laughter. That’s the social ‘ha.’"

"My ha is perfectly adequate," you snapped, deadpan, looking back to the screen.

Steve snorted.

From the other side of the kitchen, as his coffee trickled through the filter, Loki’s gaze narrowed on you, his eyes sharp as he observed the exchange. It didn’t escape him - your composure had cracks in it, the way your shoulders were wound tight, the way you barely breathed between sentences. His lips curled into a faint, knowing, endeared smile.

So stubborn.

Sam leaned his elbows on the island across from you, clasping his hands together. "What can I do?"

You raised a brow. "I’m not your responsibility, Sam."

"You’re my teammate."

You looked up. And to your credit, there was no venom in your eyes. Just that same brittle exhaustion that’d been following you like a shadow for days. You blew out a breath.

"I’m fine."

"You’ll think better with food," Sam coaxed.

Your jaw tensed. "I know. I'll eat in a bit."

"C'mon," Sam pressed, his voice light but serious. "Sit with us for half an hour, eat something, then you can get back to your 'almost done' report, and we'll all leave you alone."

You looked back at your screen. "I can’t tell if that’s a bribe or a threat."

"Bruce says the stress will kill you," Sam said, half-joking.

"Your jokes might beat it to the punch," you muttered back.

"Wow."

You resumed typing. "I promise, once this summit is over, I'll watch a Netflix special of your choosing and get more than my fill of endorphins."

Loki uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, smooth and deliberate. Unhurried, but with the weight of purpose behind them. He could feel the tension rolling off you, and for reasons he wouldn’t fully admit - couldn’t fully understand... he couldn’t stand it.

"Why," he began, his voice calm but with undeniable mischief laced beneath, "do you all insist on doing this the hard way?"

He rounded the island and approached you from the side, calm, not rushed, but without delay.

He had nothing to do with this - he told himself. This wasn’t about you or your exhaustion. This was just him solving a problem. A problem they were clearly too inept to fix.

Your shoulders didn’t move. You didn’t acknowledge him. You kept typing as he stood behind you.

His hands were on you before you registered the intent.

Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs, pressing and wiggling into the soft spots just beneath your arms with an expert precision.

You jerked, hands flying off the keys with a sharp sound of protest, an involuntary giggle bursting from your throat as you half-twisted, elbows snapping protectively to your sides.

Loki dropped his tickling hands, looming behind you like an impending storm, and let out a sharp and satisfied puff of air. "Thank the Norns."

And then, before you could gather your wits and react, he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you effortlessly off the stool.

You kicked and cursed in wild shock, flailing against the solid vice of his arm around your middle. "HEY!"

Loki looked to the others - their faces painted in quiet hesitance.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that," the god said with cool amusement, adjusting his grip as you writhed in his arms. “You’re all too bloody soft. Someone has to be the villain, and I rather enjoy the role." He then shot a sharp glance to Rogers. "You’re welcome."

He turned and started walking towards the living room.

"LOKI!" You snarled through gritted teeth, pushing at his forearm.

You were squirming like a snared hellcat in his arms, but your body gave you away. You were tired. Overextended. Tied in so many knots you couldn't tell where your own edges begin anymore.

"Let me go!"

"Yes, yes…" he sighed, striding into the large common room. "Once this matter is dealt with."

Bruce glanced up from his usual armchair, blinking behind his glasses. He took in the scene - you writhing in Loki’s arms, Loki’s expression impassive and focused, the faint storm in his stride.

From the threshold, Sam and Steve peered out with matching expressions of amused disbelief.

"Uh…" Bruce looked to the others, eyes wary and uncertain, coffee half-raised to his lips. "So we’re all just cool with whatever this is?"

Loki looked at the doctor briefly. "You said she needed endorphins. Laughter. Yes?"

"Well yeah but-"

"Lovely."

And then he threw you onto the couch.

It wasn't a gentle toss, but not cruel either. It was precise. Designed to disorient, and it did a hell of a job.

You landed on your side with a sharp bounce, half-seething, pushing yourself up with both murder and a giddy sort of nervousness in your eyes. You twisted and moved to scramble away, but he was already there - moving fast and smooth, settling down beside you.

He sat side-on, one knee on the cushion, the other foot braced on the floor. His hip pressed flush to yours, caging you in where you lay half-twisted against the backrest of the couch. His torso leaned across your waist, the angle perfect for blocking your every attempt to curl or wriggle away.

"You son of a-"

You reached up, maybe to push, maybe to slap, maybe to claw his face off - but it didn't matter. He caught your wrist easily, trapping it in mid-air.

"Easy," he said, voice low and warm. "Let’s not make a scene."

"Don’t you dare."

You didn't stand a chance.

He released your wrist and his hands darted fast - intentional, no wasted movement - his fingers dragging and digging into the sensitive space between your ribs and waist, thumbs pressing with precision.

You slapped at his hands, trying to hold back your giggles, still trying to fight, but he already had you.

Fingers spidered across your sides, precise and ticklish, pressing into the spaces between your ribs, the grooves of your waist. You jolted like a live wire. And then-

"Nnn-shit!"

You broke.

Giggling laughter exploded out of you, bright and helpless, like it had been waiting days to claw its way free. You bucked against him, hands slapping at his chest, knees curling up against his back.

He smirked, not even looking up at you, just watching his own hands move, thumbs circling, working the lines of your waist like a musician playing a their attuned instrument.

"Gods above," he muttered with an exhale, actually smiling. "You’re so ticklish."

"Asshole," you managed an adorable little snarl between breaths, but the laughter didn't stop. You were so consumed by the giggles that your protest didn’t sound as defiant as it should. "I ha-hate you!"

He chuckled, low and dark, his voice so teasing. "Oh, you’re going to have to try harder than that."

You let out a squeal when his fingers dug under your arms for half a second - then lower, finding the softest edge of your waist. You shrieked, bucking again, and Loki's grin deepened. His hands settled there with ominous precision.

Oh, he’d found something.

The spot just under your ribs, where nerves tangled and skin jumped at the slightest pressure. He focused there, thumbs pressing maddening circles, fingertips dragging with infuriating care.

You gasped, laughed, cursed - tried to twist, tried to curl - but it was useless. Your muscles had gone soft with the laughing. Your hands pushed at his chest, but there was no strength in them anymore. You were melting under him. And gods, he liked it.

"That’s it," he murmured, low and amused.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Instead, you started going boneless beneath him.

He tilted his head, fascinated.

So expressive, mortals. All heat and breath and sudden collapse.

You could be a fury incarnate at any waking moment - sharp-tongued, iron-willed, as comfortable with a combat knife as you were in geopolitical briefings. And just as precise.

You’d spent the last week grinding yourself into steel and silence, undereyes shadowed with exhaustion, soaked in irritation, swatting away gentle jokes and light-hearted concern.

And now - reduced to this. Caught somewhere between defiance and surrender. Giggling, shaking, flushed and boneless beneath his hands.

Adorable.

He narrowed his eyes.

When had that word started surfacing in his brain so often?

God of Mischief, he reminded himself. This was simply the application of chaos toward emotional regulation. A necessary correction. Nothing more.

And yet, he could not look away.

He was a trickster, schemer, a thousand-year-old weapon of mass destruction. He had absolutely no business finding a mortal this... this charming.

And yet, he did not want to look away.

What a ruinous little thing you were becoming.

Your slaps were weaker now, your kicks barely jostled him. Your body had given up trying to fight and was just reacting, all frantic little spasms and helpless gasps. Your hands swatted for a second more- then simply curled around his wrists.

Not to push him away.

Just… to hold.

Your knuckles pressed into his sleeves, clinging without purpose, your palms warm against his skin. You were laughing, really laughing now - wild and breathless and beautiful, the sound pouring out of you with no control, like your body had finally found a way to purge the stress.

He watched you unravel under his hands, and it did something to him. Bended something inside him.

The laughter had knocked the fight out of your limbs. You were still squirming, yes, but without aim now. Pure reflex. He could feel the tension in you - the pressure that had been building for days - finally start to release.

He slowed his fingers, letting them glide lightly now, teasing, drawing out that helpless warmth until your laughter turned soft. Sweet. Still squirming, but relaxed.

When you went completely pliant, Loki stilled.

He watched your chest rise and fall, fast but looser. He'd felt the fight seep out of your shoulders, the weight in your brow gone. Your laughter trailed off into a breathless smile, your lips parted, eyes dazed with that post-laughter glow.

"There you are," he murmured, low and quiet, brushing his thumbs gently over your sides, not tickling anymore.

Something knotted tight in his chest as he looked at you - you, who could break bones and weaponise words. You, who had glared at the others like you wanted to bite them for suggesting a break. You, who hadn’t smiled in days, eyes heavy and sleepless with the unbearable weight of caring so very much.

Now a flushed, giggling heap on the couch. Under him. His body curved over yours, his hands still warm at your waist. Your fingers still wrapped loose around his wrists like you didn’t even realise it.

He swallowed.

This had been about endorphins. About tricking your nervous system into resetting. That was all.

Just… good strategy.

Right?

He kept his weight over you, hands still in place, but his voice dipped - lower, closer, with that subtle edge.

"I think your teammates are perfectly capable of helping you finish off those reports," he said. "Wouldn’t you agree?"

You nod without thinking, eyes unfocused. "Yeah."

Loki glanced up. Met Rogers’ gaze. Held it.

Steve was standing there in the kitchen archway, arms crossed, brow lifted. Loki didn't say a word - but the look was pointed.

"Captain Rogers will have Sergeant Barnes review the response to the Wakandan delegation," Loki continued, speaking to you but keeping his eyes on the one apparently in charge. "The others can proofread the rest, and deliver you notes... tomorrow."

"Yeah okay," you sniffed, still dazed, still sputtering residual giggles, but fully aware of your defeat.

Steve's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

Loki turned towards the good doctor.

Bruce was still watching from his chair, coffee in hand, one brow raised. Loki cocked his head, gesturing to your giggling form.

"Well, Bruce? What’s your diagnosis?"

Bruce watched you for a long second - your loose limbs, your lazy grin, the visible ease now where tightness had controlled your frame just minutes before. The corners of his mouth turned down in an analytical frown.

"Tension’s down. Endorphins kicked in. She looks lighter. I’d say she could use... another minute or so."

Loki’s smirk turned feral.

You didn't even protest.

You barely registered it, not until his fingers at to your sides started tickling with that same precision, but just a little gentler now, and your body danced with a squealing giggle you didn’t know you had in you.

The couch shook with your laughter again, the sound of your heels thudding against the cushion. You were completely wrecked. And you let it happen. You let him ruin you with laughter, your body betraying you, all your sharpness and strength replaced by unguarded sound and colour and heat.

And Loki...

He was half-smiling down at you like you were dangerous.

Like he was just realising you might be the only thing on this wretched planet that could bring him to heel. That could... soften him. That could make him enjoy softening.

And that, in itself, was terrifying.

But your laughter hit that beautiful, breathless pitch - and he knew he’d be doing this again.

.

.

.

end note:

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.

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.

That’s what got you in this predicament in the first place. The whining.

That’s not your fault though. How could it be?

You’d been in a mood all day, eyeing his hands, watching the way they worked so efficiently with such delicate precision. You of course couldn’t help but think about his hands on you, that was only natural, and you knew he’d love to get his hands on you just as much, so why were you still here, frustrated and un-tickled?

You’ve done literally everything you know to do when it comes to getting what you want from him. Whining and pouting and batting your pretty eyes at him and… that’s.. well, that’s about it.

But that usually works!

Oh how very well it usually works. Just looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes and tilting your head so slightly to the side. It makes him weak. His knees buckle just slightly and his stomach twists, and how can anyone say no to a face like that?

So, when you found him on the beach tinkering with some Eridian device, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide and glazed over, bottom lip poked out just a bit, you had expected him to give in to you nearly immediately. Drag you into the little house, pull you into his lap, find all of your favorite sensitive spots, coo over how sweet your laugh is. You certainly don’t expect him to tilt his head and furrow his eyebrows just a bit, confusion evident in his expression.

But, of course, that’s exactly what he did. He even went as far as to ask you if everything was okay.

You had just huffed out of your nose, eyes narrowing slightly for just a moment. You first thought he maybe just wasn’t picking it up. Yeah, that must be it. He’s just too engrossed in his work to properly comprehend the pressing matters at hand. But, when you batted your eyelashes at him, leaning in just a little closer to him, he just gave you a quizzical look before turning back to whatever he was working on.

You were taken aback to say the least. He’d never had any problem putting two and two together before, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was doing it on purpose. Though you couldn’t quite land on a reason when you wracked your brain.

You pouted, an honest to god pout. Your eyebrows knit together, lips pursed, and your arms crossed over your chest, as you stared right at him. He didn’t notice- or at least he pretended not to for the moment. You didn’t notice the way he bit his lip or turned his head so that his face was just out of your view. Though, after several seconds of you burning holes into the back of his skull, he turned back to you, eyebrows raised a bit.

“Can I help you with something?”

His expression was unreadable, along with his tone. You huffed through your nose, glaring as you turned away from him and stomped through the sand back inside.

You missed the way he watched you when you turned your back to him, and the breath he let out when you got out of ear shot.

‘This is going to be much more difficult than I thought’, he thought to himself as he shook his head.

————————

It’s about an hour later when he makes his way into the house. You’ve had time to wallow in self pity, which included curling up in bed, and pouting, and thinking more and more about what you want. You just don’t get it. He’s usually jumping at the opportunity to tickle you out of your mind. Why would this be any different.

You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as so many different things run through your mind. The way he’d looked at you outside, especially compared to how he’d usually look at you. He usually looks at you like he wants to eat you alive— you’re not always unconvinced that he actually does.

You think about how he’d watch you, the way you’d watch his eyes narrow and his lips curl into a smirk. The way he’d approach, slow and stalking just to tower over you and look down at you with that grin. Your mind races as you think about how he'd hold you, how he’d wrap you in his arms, keep you in his lap, his hands exploring every ticklish spot they can reach— god, his hands.

You don’t realize how lost you are in your own pitiful yearning until the sound of the door opening and closing startles you out of your daze, your face and neck hot.

You perk up almost immediately, and you start to unwrap yourself from the blanket to find your way to his heels again, but your mind jumps back to what he’d done to you on the beach, and you make a snap decision.

If he’s got a point to prove, you’ll prove one of your own.

He walks into the small kitchen, whistling as he pours himself a glass a water. The house is only so big, you can hear him shuffling around, the clinking of the glass against the counter, and if you were to peer around the doorway, you could watch him. You stay right where you are, back to the doorway of the little bedroom as you lay in bed. You say nothing, but you sigh loud enough for him to hear it. He stops, and you can hear the sudden halt of the water trickling. Everything is still, including him, aside from the way his lip twitches upward at the corner. He waits for a moment, listening out for anything from you, but when you don't say anything, he starts meandering around the kitchen again. You furrow your eyebrows, huffing out of your nose before letting out another exaggeratedly loud sigh.

When he stops this time, he laughs, and you light up as he makes his way into the bedroom.

“Alright”, he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. Your back is to him as you lay completely cocooned in the soft blanket. His hand snakes around your waist and you tense, inhaling sharply. You’re sure this is it- he’s had enough of watching you sulk, and he intends to do something about it.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

He pulls you closer, and you shift just a bit to look at him. He can see it all over your face, in the way your eyes shine with something hopeful, and how you chew anxiously on in the inside of your lip, even as you try to glare at him. He stares for just a moment, considering his options.

He’d planned to keep this up much longer. He has a point to prove after all. What kind of lesson is he teaching by giving in to you every time you so much as look at him a certain way? He has to hold his ground, put his foot down.

It’s just… that spark behind your eyes, and you had been asking for it all day, and would it even be fair to deny you something that you want so badly? Something he needs just as much? And… yeah, okay. Whatever. Maybe he had overestimated his own willpower, but that doesn’t mean you need to know that.

He just huffs. He’s not ready to give in to you yet, at least not completely.

“I know what you want”, he says simply as he pulls the blanket down, his hands trailing and resting on your hips. He holds you firm, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him, your face flushed red as your heart flutters in your chest. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly he broke your little grumpy facade.

To him, it’s an absolutely breathtaking sight, the way you get so visibly needy. His jaw drops just slightly and his chest heaves as he takes a deep breath to ground himself. His skin is absolutely crawling as he watches you writhe underneath him, his fingers twitching instinctively at your sides.

He takes you in entirely, just watching, and he has to bite back a smile of his own.

“You’ve been just beggin’ for it all day, huh?”.

You deny it of course, shaking your head, but this is what you’ve wanted all day. You feel a nervous smile playing at your lips, and you bring your hands up to cover your face.

“No?”, he repeats, quirking an eyebrow as he reaches up and pulls your hands away from your face, gently pinning them to the mattress beside your head.

You turn your head, trying to hide your face as much as you possibly can- something he corrects almost instantly. “Hey, eyes up here. On me please”.

His tone is low and steady, and certainly not unkind, but still stern. Your stomach twists just a bit and you find yourself turning your head, your eyes meeting his.

“Good. Thank you.” Your lips part just slightly as your breath catches in your throat. You just nod, any argument you could have posed faltering on the tip of your tongue.

“Now”, he starts, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. His tone is low, just above a whisper. “Just because I know what you want doesn’t mean I’m gonna give it to you.”

You start to whine, but he cuts you off with a chuckle, rolling his eyes.

“What, you think just because you whine and give me those big puppy dog eyes, I’ll give you whatever you want?”

You’re quiet for a moment, chewing on your lip.

“Umm… yes?”

In your defense, it usually does.

He’s quiet for a second, lips pursed. “Okay, you know what? That’s fair, but, this time,” his thumb rubs soothing circles against your wrist, “that’s not gonna work.”

You whine again, and again he cuts you off.

“Ah-ah, what did I just say, hm?”

He tilts his head down, eyebrows raised as he gives you a pointed look.

“Use your words.”

Your eyes widen. Those words in that tone out of his mouth… it’s the last thing you expect to hear from him. He’s never done this to you, denied you like this. Honestly, you didn’t even know he had the self restraint to tell you no. About anything.

Truth be told, he doesn’t. With every passing moment, he’s starting to regret this little game more and more.

He had done this as a means of toying with you. He wanted to watch you squirm, to see that desire build inside of you until you were too desperate for it to think about anything else. He hadnt considered his own need hindering that, and he tries to push it down, but instinct is gnawing at him. Everything in him is telling him to just give you what you want, draw out all those pretty giggles and squeals.

Still, he just waits, watching you, but you feel his grip on your wrists get just slightly firmer. You don't know what to do. He's never put you in a position like this before- at least not that you can remember. You open your mouth, trying to find the right words before closing it again almost immediately. You've never... asked for it before. You're honestly not sure that you can even fix your mouth to form the proper sentence to do so. You think and think, taking a breath every now and then as if you've thought of something before going quiet again. He watches the way your eyes shift. You keep looking at him, like you're hoping he'll help you out, but you don't look at him long enough to meet his eyes or hold his gaze. He can see the frustration build, your eyebrows furrowing and your face burning as you realize you can't force it out.

He’s silent for the entirety of the battle you’re having with your own brain, and that only makes it worse. He’s just waiting. Waiting for you to do as he’s told you, no exceptions, no easy way out. His fingers tap idly at your pinned wrist, which isn't helping you at all. You think he's teasing you, just the lightest tapping of his fingertips against your skin as if he's giving you just the slightest bit of what you want, making you want more, and god it's working, but that's not his intention. He's getting just as restless as you are, eager to touch and to tickle, but who would he be if he didn't uphold his own rules? It feels like the words are stuck in your chest, like you know what you need to say, but you can't make yourself. 'Please tickle me'. It's just three little words. A simple request. Something you know you both want. And still, your tongue feels like cement. You take a deep shaky breath, your face contorting into a small wince as you start to force something out. "I-", you clear your throat, rolling your eyes with a huff, "Ryland- just, please-" Before you can even get out the rest of it- or at least try to- he's got both of your hands in one wrist, moving shockingly quickly to pin them above your head and straddle your hips. "Yeah, okay, that's good enough for me". It comes out rushed, so much so that you almost don't fully comprehend what he's saying, but it certainly doesn't take you long to register the feeling of his free hand squeezing rapidly up and down your side. It all happens so fast, it feels like a jolt of electricity trailing down your spine, and suddenly, what was a plea for him to get on with it turns into a desperate for him to just wait. He shakes his head, his hand suddenly jumping from your side to your ribs, clawing against the sensitive skin and worming his fingers into the spaces between the bones. "I’ve done enough waiting. I will literally never do that again. Don't ever make me wait that long again." You squeal when his hand jumps again, this time under your arm before he scribbles back down to your ribs. You don’t believe what you’re hearing.

After all of that, he has the audacity to blame you for the delay, and for what? Because he got impatient? How can that possibly be fair? "ME?", you ask through loud cackles, in utter disbelief. "I dihihidn't! I-", He cuts you off, clicking his tongue at you before he brings his hand to your belly, clawing around your navel before scribbling across your lower belly from one hip to the other. It's so sporadic, fingertips jumping from one spot to the other and swapping between clawing and spidering and scratching. "Excuses, excuses...", he sighs, but you don’t miss the small smirk on his face. You know arguing with him about it will only dig you into a deeper hole, but you just can't help it. You're already so worked up. I mean, he was the one that demanded you ask for it anyway. He had intentionally denied you earlier just to prove a point, and then he got too impatient to even enforce it properly. And now he blames you? You just can't believe it. You start to tell him that you're not making excuses, that the whole ordeal is his fault, but his thumb finds that sensitive spot in the dip of your hip, and any rebuttal you might have had is immediately lost. Your head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut us as you twist your hips as much as possible.

You’re so focused on trying to get away from the unbearable sensation of his relentless squeezing that the argument falls further and further into the back of your mind, but you just can’t seem to worm free even in the slightest.

You whine, a mess of flustered, frustrated giggles as his unpredictable movements finally turn into a steady kneading in one spot.

You’re honestly not sure at this point which is worse.

“There ya go”, he draws out, his tone softer, higher, almost patronizing. “Isn’t this so much better than laying around and pouting all day? And all you had to do was say please! I didn’t even make you say tickle.”

He watches the way your nose scrunches at the sound of the word, and the way you shake your head in response to his question. You try to say no, but you’re not sure it comes out too coherently through squeals and giggles.

He laughs. “Ohhh, that’s right! You can’t say tickle.”

He already knew that.

“We’ll work on that. I’m sure I could help you.”

A whimper slips out through frantic giggles as he reaches up to hold your wrist in his other hand before pushing the soft fabric of your tshirt up just enough to slip his hand underneath it.

You arch your back when his fingertips swirl in a smooth motion around your navel, but they don’t linger. He traces all the way up your side, just to wiggle his fingers into the soft skin under your arm.

You shake your head, trying to pull your arm down. You feel like you’re putting up such a hard fight, but he doesn’t budge.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He barely manages the question out before you’re squealing for him to let you go, but he just shakes his head.

“No,” he says, drawing out the ‘o’, “You wanted me to tickle you, didn’t you?”

You whine again, squirming and twisting as much as you can, but not only are you stuck beneath him, you can feel your muscles giving out on you.

You’re so incredibly conflicted, just as you usually are, and he knows it, and loves taking advantage of it. This is exactly what you wanted, but you- you poor thing, you’re just so ticklish, and he’s so very mean.

It’s his favorite thing, to watch that little bit of panic flare behind your eyes when you realize that you’ve gotten exactly what you want, and ,despite the fact that you craved it all day, it’s still just as unbearable as it always in.

You nod, but then you shake your head, and it turns into some weird combination of both.

“I-I don’t knohohow!”

He laughs again, this time genuine. He almost feels bad hearing how frantic your responses are.

Almost.

Not nearly enough to stop.

His fingers stay in motion as they crawl upwards, over your bicep and to your elbow before trailing back down, spidering and scratching lightly in your armpit and down to your ribs. It’s such a repetitive motion, up and down, up and down, but you can’t adjust to the sensation at all.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll stop teasing.”

Liar.

Though, his hand does slow. It doesn’t stop, but it slows at your ribs.

Desperate cackles turn to something lighter, but his fingertips are still trailing gently over the spots he’d already assaulted. You can’t fight it anymore, aside from twitching and squirming out of pure instinct.

“Why are you still giggling?”, he asks, feigning confusion as his nails keep tracing against your ribs in a slow circular motion. You can feel his hand traveling higher and higher, inch by inch, devastatingly close to that oh so sensitive spot under your arm again.

“Becahahuse! It-“, you cut yourself off, biting your tongue with a frustrated whine as you throw your head back against the pillow in defeat.

“Because it what?”, he asks, eyebrows raised. “Because it tickles?”

He annunciates the word by kneading, rougher and quicker, into the soft flesh of your ribs, but only for a second before he’s back to slow teasing.

“Yehehes!”, you squeak, planting your feet against the mattress and trying to buck him off.

You don’t knock him off, but you definitely throw him off of his balance as he falls forward. He almost loses his grip on your wrists, but he holds tight using his other hand to steady himself against the headboard.

Everything’s quiet for just a moment, aside from the quick, shallow huffs you let out as you try to settle down.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a minute anyway. He’s just looking down at you, his jaw slack, and eyes narrowed, almost offended.

When you finally do look up to meet his gaze, your heart sinks.

You’re fucked.

You are so completely and utterly and extremely fucked.

“W-Wait— Ryland, hold on-“

He just shakes his head, cutting you off before you can even get started.

“You…”, he chuckles, a grin that can only be described as shit-eating playing at his lips.

“You are so screwed.”

——————

What’s this? More Ler Ryland? Who could have thunk. This isn’t my absolute favorite of my ler Ryland concepts but fret not because I already have another one bubbling and brewing in my drafts.