“Mhm,” Dick hummed, amusement curling through the sound. “Believe it or not, kiddo, this is exactly what Tim sent you here for.” 

Kiddo. Dick was literally the only person ever who called Kon that, and it sent a burst of warm-squeezy-stupid feeling fizzing through Kon’s chest every single time. Now he had his own special nickname, just like Dick’s brothers, and it felt kind of like being part of a matching set in a way he’d never experienced before. Like there was a place carved out just for him, the way it was for the other Bats, the way Kon maybe wished it could be with Clark and Lois if he wasn’t so scared they’d change their minds. 

Kon jerked his awareness back to the present moment just in time to see Dick teasingly wiggle his fingers, even though he stayed put four feet away. What had he said? Oh, right. 

“Really? Tim set me up?” Betrayal from his best friend. Harsh, but not entirely uncalled for after the latest Briefing Incident. 

Dick waffled one hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “Not exactly. He knows it helps.” 

Kon narrowed his eyes. “He knows?” 

Dick’s teasing grin turned a little mushy, the way his face often looked when he had those shmoopy older brother feelings that Kon didn’t really understand. “From experience.” 

“Oh.” Good to know. But that didn’t change the fact that one poke from Dick had sent Kon scrambling into his armchair cave, where he still was now. 

“Yeah. And speaking of helping…” Dick lowered his voice and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Let’s get you sleepy, kiddo.” 

Okay, technically Kon did have plenty of time to unfold himself and zip to another corner of the room, but Dick had started walking over towards him and before Kon could decide what to do there was a whole adult vigilante looming above him with ten wriggling fingers that touched down around his neck and ears, and all his strategy-minded thoughts vanished. 

“No!” he meeped, feeling himself flush even darker at the squeaking noise. “Di–Dihihick, plehehehease!” Wave after wave of ticklish shivers threw him into shivery spasms, he tried to shrug his shoulders up or clamp his head to one side, but Dick just switched spots, so fast that Kon barely kept track of where the tickling was happening. Even though he tried, he couldn’t stop the snickers and snorts that managed to escape his clenched teeth. 

“Please what?” Dick said in a soft, sing-song voice. “Please…pick a different spot?” His hands darted down to scribble over Kon’s triceps, teasing around to the spot where his back and shoulder met. “Is this better?” 

It was actually like a thousand sparks of electricity crackling through Kon’s upper body and he shrieked, surprised that the light touches tickled so much. “Wha–whahat areyoudoihihingheEK?” 

“Oh,” Dick crooned, still in that musical cadence. “You didn’t know, did you? Bud. Kiddo. Kon. I’m so sorry I haven’t tickled you enough, you shouldn’t have to be surprised–” 

“Shutup!” Kon shouted. He’d given up on staying curled in his little shield ball and twisted onto his side, halfway crushing one of Dick’s evil tickly hands. It was so bad, he might actually die. 

Dick continued on as if Kon hadn’t said anything. “Now, we both know that here is a good place…” 

Before Kon could figure out where Dick was aiming for now, ten fingers scribbled over the small of his back and all the nerves there lit up at once. That wasn’t exactly his worst spot, but it made him giggle, and sure enough – 

“Those are the sweet giggles I remember, there we go.” Dick’s grin came through in his voice and Kon really, really thought about hiding. If only his TTK worked on light waves, he’d bend them around himself and become invisible so Dick couldn’t see him squirm from all the teasing. 

“Don’t tehease!” Kon begged through helpless giggles. There wasn’t enough room for him to flip over, but–

“Don’t tease?” Dick repeated. “About what?” 

“Anything!” Kon yelped, abandoning his efforts to squirm down onto the floor. 

Dick chuckled and squeezed Kon’s shoulders briefly before he leaned down to murmur right next to his ear. “I don’t know if I can do that, kiddo. Older brother instincts and all. It’s hard when you’re squirming like the most tickly, wriggly worm in the world who really, really needs nighttime tickles–”

Suddenly Dick was spidering all across Kon’s shoulders and neck and lower back, jumping from spot to spot with no pattern. Occasionally he’d graze over Kon’s sides or ribs or, worst of all, up near the edge of his underarm. 

Kon barely got a breath in before the laughter took over again and his brain melted into ticklish, giddy soup. “No! ‘M not, ‘m not, ‘m not!” 

With another low, affectionate laugh, Dick slowed down to whispering tickles up and down Kon’s exposed side. “Not what?” 

“Not–” Kon inhaled. He tried to twist his expression into a scowl but his face felt stiff from how much he’d been laughing. “Not a worm!” 

“I didn’t say you were a worm,” Dick countered, pinching Kon’s side for good measure.

Kon peeped and immediately hid his face in the worn upholstery. He still didn’t know what to do with all these fuzzy warm feelings whenever they fluttered around inside his stomach. Maybe that was something to think about later, though, because Dick kept wheedling little pinches up and down the squishy parts of his side. 

“I said you were the most tickly, wriggly worm. That’s different!” 

Giggling again as Dick’s fingers wandered around towards his lower back again, Kon just shook his head, keeping his face smashed against the chair. 

“Awww,” Dick cooed. “Don’t hide, kiddo, your smile’s too cute. C’mon…” He skated his nails up and down the sides of Kon’s neck in even swoops that instantly made Kon’s laughter gain a screechy edge as he twisted around, trying to shake them off. Eventually, his mind swirling with ticklish feelings, he flipped over onto his back. He squinted up at Dick through teary eyes, vision blurry from laughing so much. 

Dick gave him a blinding smile. “There’s my ticklish hero.”

Just as Kon tried to turn right back over because there was no way he was staying visible to hear more of that, Dick latched onto his hips with pulsing squeezes that tore cackles out from the bottom of his lungs. 

“HEY! Hehehey!” he wheezed, slapping fruitlessly at Dick’s hands. It was instinct, he didn’t actually want to push Dick away, but his senses were going haywire. 

“Sorry,” Dick said. “I’m not supposed to be winding you up, am I? Let’s try something else.” 

Kon wasn’t expecting to be scooped out of the chair and flung unceremoniously over Dick’s shoulder. But he couldn’t find it in himself to break free, even though he totally could. That would mean the fun stopped. Even though this wasn’t the magic insomnia cure Tim had promised, it wasnt…bad. 

Now, that was a realization that was getting consciously shoved down to the very last car in Kon’s train of thought. He just pressed his forehead against Dick’s back and let himself enjoy being the one carted around, for once. 

The journey to Dick’s room wasn’t far, and when he heaved Kon sprawling onto the bed, Kon had enough presence of mind to send his TTK after the stack of items on the nightstand so they wouldn’t go flying as it rattled from the force of his impact. Then, almost faster than he could follow, Dick wrestled him onto his stomach and hopped up to sit on his legs. 

Giddy flutters buzzed through Kon’s nerves since he couldn’t see anymore, but – oh! TTK! He extended his awareness for a second, just enough to sense Dick’s hands hovering over his back. Ok, cool, that was good, he could brace himself. 

Dick started drawing gentle circles on Kon’s lower back with a single index finger. It tickled, and Kon giggled into the comforter beneath his face. The ticklish prickles weren’t strong enough to make him squirm or thrash, though. They almost felt nice. 

After a little bit, Dick added his other hand and switched from circles to vague zig-zag patterns. Sometimes the invisible lines edged over towards Kon’s sides and his light, hiccupy laughter would jump up to peeps, but Dick never lingered there for too long. 

“Dihihihick!” he gasped. “It, you’re–” 

“It tickles?” Dick said, sounding like he was about to start cooing. “I can see that, kiddo. You’re still a squirmy thing, even when you’re having fun.” 

“Noooo!” 

Dick chuckled again. “Yes. You and Timmy both, so you’re in good company.” 

Well, at least that was something. 

When Dick changed it up again so one hand was crawling around Kon’s shoulders and neck and the other was still scrabbling over his lower back, Kon let himself succumb to the peals of happy, embarrassing laughter that he couldn’t seem to quash. 

“There you go,” Dick murmured. He used both his index fingers to scritch into the sides of Kon’s underarms. “Tickle tickle tickle, Connor.” 

Kon did thrash, then, kicking both of his feet fruitlessly against the mattress. “It’s – ‘so bad, so bad, Dick!” 

“I can tell. In this teeny, squishy spot, too.” But Dick backed off, going back to those light, predictable sweeps across the rest of Kon’s back. “Okay, okay. Deep breaths.”

Kon was tempted to point out that he didn’t need to breathe the same way that humans did, but he did as he’d been told. The scent of lavender detergent in Dick’s blanket was a pleasant surprise, and it sent a wave of comfort rolling over Kon’s fraying mind. He grumbled something, he didn’t know what, into the mattress when Dick hopped up and wandered off to do something. 

New sleepiness tugged at his eyelids, like Kon might actually, finally, fall asleep this time. Probably on account of the change of scenery and the nice, soothing lavender. Not because he’d been tickled halfway out of his mind. 

Yeah. 

As he dropped off to sleep, the last thing that registered was the snick of the lightswitch as Dick flipped it off, and something that felt like a kiss land on top of his hair. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For a split second, Kon didn’t know where he was when he woke up. In his defense, he’d been deep asleep for the first time in weeks, and someone was combing through his hair and it felt so nice that, really, it didn’t feel like it mattered where he’d ended up. 

“Connor?” someone asked. “Are you waking up, bud?” 

The hand in Kon’s hair gently tugged and Kon leaned into the pressure with a quiet, happy sound. “Nuh-huh.” 

Dick laughed. “Okay.” 

Wait. Dick? 

The sleepy haze evaporated as Kon pieced together the events of the previous evening. God. He’d been – he’d thought that when Tim suggested going to Dick for help sleeping, there was some kind of secret Bat sleep aid. Not…the thing that Kon couldn’t say. Or think, apparently, without wanting to burst into flames. 

….did that mean Tim also got tickled into a pile of sleepy giggles too, then? 

Hm. Much to consider. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, dragging one of his eyes open to find Dick sitting next to him on the bed, fully dressed in jeans and a pullover. “...Sorry for passing out here.” 

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Dick said breezily. He smiled down at Kon. “That was the goal. I’m glad it worked, you seemed like you needed the rest. 

Kon grunted. “Still.” 

Dick rolled his eyes but he kept grinning. “Please. At least you knocked. Tim usually crawls in through one of my windows and tracks mud all over the place.”

Yeah, that did sound like Rob. “I did knock.” 

“Yes. Also, you paid your admission in baby brother giggles, so–”

Kon squawked, pushing himself up on one elbow to give Dick his best glower. “I – I did not, I –” Baby brother? But Kon wasn’t – he didn’t – did he? 

As if sensing his complicated thoughts, Dick leaned over and ruffled his hair. “You’re stuck with me now, kiddo.” His mouth curled up in a sheepish smile. “Maybe B’s adoption tendencies are contagious.”  

Kon beamed. Then he realized that he was doing that and promptly hid his face in a nearby pillow because he was having a rather unwieldy emotion that sort of made his eyes sting. No one else needed to see that. 

“Aww, Kon.” Dick ruffled his hair again. He kept at it until Kon snuffled and leaned his head away, snickering past the lump in his throat. 

Composing himself took several minutes. When Kon finally felt confident that he could push past the prickling in his eyes, he rolled onto his side to look at Dick. 

“So, uh. So Tim also…?” 

“Oh, bud. Tim’s a ticklish little squeaky toy, and sometimes that big ol’ brain of his needs some help settling down at night” Dick said with a wide grin. “Jay nicknamed him ‘Giggle Brat’ ages ago for a reason.” 

Something clicked into place in Kon’s mind. He sat up. “Wait, so that t-shirt he has–”

“Yup.” 

This was the best day ever. It was like Christmas and winning a million dollars rolled into

one. Finally, Kon had some really, truly teasable leverage on Tim…that, to be fair, he could never bring up around their other friends or they’d both be plucked, roasted, and cooked. Metaphorically. 

“Mhm,” Dick hummed, amusement curling through the sound. “Believe it or not, kiddo, this is exactly what Tim sent you here for.” 

Kiddo. Dick was literally the only person ever who called Kon that, and it sent a burst of warm-squeezy-stupid feeling fizzing through Kon’s chest every single time. Now he had his own special nickname, just like Dick’s brothers, and it felt kind of like being part of a matching set in a way he’d never experienced before. Like there was a place carved out just for him, the way it was for the other Bats, the way Kon maybe wished it could be with Clark and Lois if he wasn’t so scared they’d change their minds. 

Kon jerked his awareness back to the present moment just in time to see Dick teasingly wiggle his fingers, even though he stayed put four feet away. What had he said? Oh, right. 

“Really? Tim set me up?” Betrayal from his best friend. Harsh, but not entirely uncalled for after the latest Briefing Incident. 

Dick waffled one hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “Not exactly. He knows it helps.” 

Kon narrowed his eyes. “He knows?” 

Dick’s teasing grin turned a little mushy, the way his face often looked when he had those shmoopy older brother feelings that Kon didn’t really understand. “From experience.” 

“Oh.” Good to know. But that didn’t change the fact that one poke from Dick had sent Kon scrambling into his armchair cave, where he still was now. 

“Yeah. And speaking of helping…” Dick lowered his voice and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Let’s get you sleepy, kiddo.” 

Okay, technically Kon did have plenty of time to unfold himself and zip to another corner of the room, but Dick had started walking over towards him and before Kon could decide what to do there was a whole adult vigilante looming above him with ten wriggling fingers that touched down around his neck and ears, and all his strategy-minded thoughts vanished. 

“No!” he meeped, feeling himself flush even darker at the squeaking noise. “Di–Dihihick, plehehehease!” Wave after wave of ticklish shivers threw him into shivery spasms, he tried to shrug his shoulders up or clamp his head to one side, but Dick just switched spots, so fast that Kon barely kept track of where the tickling was happening. Even though he tried, he couldn’t stop the snickers and snorts that managed to escape his clenched teeth. 

“Please what?” Dick said in a soft, sing-song voice. “Please…pick a different spot?” His hands darted down to scribble over Kon’s triceps, teasing around to the spot where his back and shoulder met. “Is this better?” 

It was actually like a thousand sparks of electricity crackling through Kon’s upper body and he shrieked, surprised that the light touches tickled so much. “Wha–whahat areyoudoihihingheEK?” 

“Oh,” Dick crooned, still in that musical cadence. “You didn’t know, did you? Bud. Kiddo. Kon. I’m so sorry I haven’t tickled you enough, you shouldn’t have to be surprised–” 

“Shutup!” Kon shouted. He’d given up on staying curled in his little shield ball and twisted onto his side, halfway crushing one of Dick’s evil tickly hands. It was so bad, he might actually die. 

Dick continued on as if Kon hadn’t said anything. “Now, we both know that here is a good place…” 

Before Kon could figure out where Dick was aiming for now, ten fingers scribbled over the small of his back and all the nerves there lit up at once. That wasn’t exactly his worst spot, but it made him giggle, and sure enough – 

“Those are the sweet giggles I remember, there we go.” Dick’s grin came through in his voice and Kon really, really thought about hiding. If only his TTK worked on light waves, he’d bend them around himself and become invisible so Dick couldn’t see him squirm from all the teasing. 

“Don’t tehease!” Kon begged through helpless giggles. There wasn’t enough room for him to flip over, but–

“Don’t tease?” Dick repeated. “About what?” 

“Anything!” Kon yelped, abandoning his efforts to squirm down onto the floor. 

Dick chuckled and squeezed Kon’s shoulders briefly before he leaned down to murmur right next to his ear. “I don’t know if I can do that, kiddo. Older brother instincts and all. It’s hard when you’re squirming like the most tickly, wriggly worm in the world who really, really needs nighttime tickles–”

Suddenly Dick was spidering all across Kon’s shoulders and neck and lower back, jumping from spot to spot with no pattern. Occasionally he’d graze over Kon’s sides or ribs or, worst of all, up near the edge of his underarm. 

Kon barely got a breath in before the laughter took over again and his brain melted into ticklish, giddy soup. “No! ‘M not, ‘m not, ‘m not!” 

With another low, affectionate laugh, Dick slowed down to whispering tickles up and down Kon’s exposed side. “Not what?” 

“Not–” Kon inhaled. He tried to twist his expression into a scowl but his face felt stiff from how much he’d been laughing. “Not a worm!” 

“I didn’t say you were a worm,” Dick countered, pinching Kon’s side for good measure.

Kon peeped and immediately hid his face in the worn upholstery. He still didn’t know what to do with all these fuzzy warm feelings whenever they fluttered around inside his stomach. Maybe that was something to think about later, though, because Dick kept wheedling little pinches up and down the squishy parts of his side. 

“I said you were the most tickly, wriggly worm. That’s different!” 

Giggling again as Dick’s fingers wandered around towards his lower back again, Kon just shook his head, keeping his face smashed against the chair. 

“Awww,” Dick cooed. “Don’t hide, kiddo, your smile’s too cute. C’mon…” He skated his nails up and down the sides of Kon’s neck in even swoops that instantly made Kon’s laughter gain a screechy edge as he twisted around, trying to shake them off. Eventually, his mind swirling with ticklish feelings, he flipped over onto his back. He squinted up at Dick through teary eyes, vision blurry from laughing so much. 

Dick gave him a blinding smile. “There’s my ticklish hero.”

Just as Kon tried to turn right back over because there was no way he was staying visible to hear more of that, Dick latched onto his hips with pulsing squeezes that tore cackles out from the bottom of his lungs. 

“HEY! Hehehey!” he wheezed, slapping fruitlessly at Dick’s hands. It was instinct, he didn’t actually want to push Dick away, but his senses were going haywire. 

“Sorry,” Dick said. “I’m not supposed to be winding you up, am I? Let’s try something else.” 

Kon wasn’t expecting to be scooped out of the chair and flung unceremoniously over Dick’s shoulder. But he couldn’t find it in himself to break free, even though he totally could. That would mean the fun stopped. Even though this wasn’t the magic insomnia cure Tim had promised, it wasnt…bad. 

Now, that was a realization that was getting consciously shoved down to the very last car in Kon’s train of thought. He just pressed his forehead against Dick’s back and let himself enjoy being the one carted around, for once. 

The journey to Dick’s room wasn’t far, and when he heaved Kon sprawling onto the bed, Kon had enough presence of mind to send his TTK after the stack of items on the nightstand so they wouldn’t go flying as it rattled from the force of his impact. Then, almost faster than he could follow, Dick wrestled him onto his stomach and hopped up to sit on his legs. 

Giddy flutters buzzed through Kon’s nerves since he couldn’t see anymore, but – oh! TTK! He extended his awareness for a second, just enough to sense Dick’s hands hovering over his back. Ok, cool, that was good, he could brace himself. 

Dick started drawing gentle circles on Kon’s lower back with a single index finger. It tickled, and Kon giggled into the comforter beneath his face. The ticklish prickles weren’t strong enough to make him squirm or thrash, though. They almost felt nice. 

After a little bit, Dick added his other hand and switched from circles to vague zig-zag patterns. Sometimes the invisible lines edged over towards Kon’s sides and his light, hiccupy laughter would jump up to peeps, but Dick never lingered there for too long. 

“Dihihihick!” he gasped. “It, you’re–” 

“It tickles?” Dick said, sounding like he was about to start cooing. “I can see that, kiddo. You’re still a squirmy thing, even when you’re having fun.” 

“Noooo!” 

Dick chuckled again. “Yes. You and Timmy both, so you’re in good company.” 

Well, at least that was something. 

When Dick changed it up again so one hand was crawling around Kon’s shoulders and neck and the other was still scrabbling over his lower back, Kon let himself succumb to the peals of happy, embarrassing laughter that he couldn’t seem to quash. 

“There you go,” Dick murmured. He used both his index fingers to scritch into the sides of Kon’s underarms. “Tickle tickle tickle, Connor.” 

Kon did thrash, then, kicking both of his feet fruitlessly against the mattress. “It’s – ‘so bad, so bad, Dick!” 

“I can tell. In this teeny, squishy spot, too.” But Dick backed off, going back to those light, predictable sweeps across the rest of Kon’s back. “Okay, okay. Deep breaths.”

Kon was tempted to point out that he didn’t need to breathe the same way that humans did, but he did as he’d been told. The scent of lavender detergent in Dick’s blanket was a pleasant surprise, and it sent a wave of comfort rolling over Kon’s fraying mind. He grumbled something, he didn’t know what, into the mattress when Dick hopped up and wandered off to do something. 

New sleepiness tugged at his eyelids, like Kon might actually, finally, fall asleep this time. Probably on account of the change of scenery and the nice, soothing lavender. Not because he’d been tickled halfway out of his mind. 

Yeah. 

As he dropped off to sleep, the last thing that registered was the snick of the lightswitch as Dick flipped it off, and something that felt like a kiss land on top of his hair. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For a split second, Kon didn’t know where he was when he woke up. In his defense, he’d been deep asleep for the first time in weeks, and someone was combing through his hair and it felt so nice that, really, it didn’t feel like it mattered where he’d ended up. 

“Connor?” someone asked. “Are you waking up, bud?” 

The hand in Kon’s hair gently tugged and Kon leaned into the pressure with a quiet, happy sound. “Nuh-huh.” 

Dick laughed. “Okay.” 

Wait. Dick? 

The sleepy haze evaporated as Kon pieced together the events of the previous evening. God. He’d been – he’d thought that when Tim suggested going to Dick for help sleeping, there was some kind of secret Bat sleep aid. Not…the thing that Kon couldn’t say. Or think, apparently, without wanting to burst into flames. 

….did that mean Tim also got tickled into a pile of sleepy giggles too, then? 

Hm. Much to consider. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, dragging one of his eyes open to find Dick sitting next to him on the bed, fully dressed in jeans and a pullover. “...Sorry for passing out here.” 

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Dick said breezily. He smiled down at Kon. “That was the goal. I’m glad it worked, you seemed like you needed the rest. 

Kon grunted. “Still.” 

Dick rolled his eyes but he kept grinning. “Please. At least you knocked. Tim usually crawls in through one of my windows and tracks mud all over the place.”

Yeah, that did sound like Rob. “I did knock.” 

“Yes. Also, you paid your admission in baby brother giggles, so–”

Kon squawked, pushing himself up on one elbow to give Dick his best glower. “I – I did not, I –” Baby brother? But Kon wasn’t – he didn’t – did he? 

As if sensing his complicated thoughts, Dick leaned over and ruffled his hair. “You’re stuck with me now, kiddo.” His mouth curled up in a sheepish smile. “Maybe B’s adoption tendencies are contagious.”  

Kon beamed. Then he realized that he was doing that and promptly hid his face in a nearby pillow because he was having a rather unwieldy emotion that sort of made his eyes sting. No one else needed to see that. 

“Aww, Kon.” Dick ruffled his hair again. He kept at it until Kon snuffled and leaned his head away, snickering past the lump in his throat. 

Composing himself took several minutes. When Kon finally felt confident that he could push past the prickling in his eyes, he rolled onto his side to look at Dick. 

“So, uh. So Tim also…?” 

“Oh, bud. Tim’s a ticklish little squeaky toy, and sometimes that big ol’ brain of his needs some help settling down at night” Dick said with a wide grin. “Jay nicknamed him ‘Giggle Brat’ ages ago for a reason.” 

Something clicked into place in Kon’s mind. He sat up. “Wait, so that t-shirt he has–”

“Yup.” 

This was the best day ever. It was like Christmas and winning a million dollars rolled into

one. Finally, Kon had some really, truly teasable leverage on Tim…that, to be fair, he could never bring up around their other friends or they’d both be plucked, roasted, and cooked. Metaphorically. 

Most mornings, Tim didn’t bother with eating breakfast. So, naturally, that meant the one morning he did, thinking maybe it’d be good for him, Dick came over and dragged him to the Batcave’s training deck.

Tim liked when Dick visited. They were beginning to get along better than when he’d first seeked the older out. If breakfast didn’t fall on his list of priorities most days, no reason to get fussy about it now. Not with Nightwing, the original Boy Wonder standing maybe four feet away from him.

“So, Robin, you had any cinematic ledge hanging moments yet in your career?”

Tim knew exactly what Dick meant, and he stopped to consider the question. Dangling from a skyscraper, crumbling bridge or other debris? Fumbling for his grapple or just having to wait until Batman could come and hoist him back up? Etcetera.

His memory served him well when it was something he cared about. “Yeah, uh… twice I think. Thought I was gonna die getting tangled up with Two-Face, and some low level thug caught me off guard the other week.”

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Tim waited for Dick to elaborate. He gestured for a pull up bar, huddled into a corner with the rest of the gymnastics equipment that had been left to gather dust. For some time, there was no Robin to be using it. It must have pained Bruce to see it.

“The longest I ever had to hold on was four and a half minutes, and I was lucky that nobody knew I was there. Dangling for that long was bad enough without some lackey stomping on my fingers.” Tim cringed.

“Okay… set a timer then, I guess. Same time.”

“Somebody’s feelin’ lucky.” Dick teased, but his smile indicated approval. Tim was nothing if not ambitious. He stood a little taller. About time somebody acknowledged all that he’d done, it took some pretty serious audacity to blackmail The Batman. Even if he was on Bruce’s bad side now, the ends would justify the means.

“Should I hold it to my chin or just hang?” He was readying himself to jump up and grab onto the bar from the mat below.

“Up to you. You just gotta hold on for as long as you can, and then I’m introducing another variable. I’ll watch the clock. Think you’re ready?” Tim nodded.

“Go ahead.”

Tim was able to just get himself up and onto the bar without dispelling much energy. A good start. He didn’t bother with any proper form. Strength in longevity mattered significantly more in a situation like the one they were simulating. He grew tired as time went on, his arms ached, then tingled, then really started to feel the burn. Towards the end, he would hold his body weight with only one to let the other rest, alternating intermittently.

When his lungs too began to burn and his heart pulsed in his head, he gave in, dropping back down to the mat below. His legs didn’t want to work after all of that, so he feebly lowered himself to sit, and slumped into an achy, heaving lump.

“Little over two minutes. Pretty good. I bet you have the best dead hang time in your gym class at school, huh?”

Tim shrugged, bashful.

“You’re looking pretty rough, so I don’t want to be a jerkoff and say, ‘Oh, but that was just the warmup!’” Dick’s smile turned sheepish, “but… I did have another idea, if you’ll entertain me.”

“It’s okay… I’m fine.” Tim would be fine with a full magazine of bullet holes in his chest so long as he was Robin.

“Well that’s good. Tell me something else then, you ticklish?”

Tim opened his mouth to respond like it was any other question. Then the words actually registered, and for a second, his neurons stopped firing. What kind of question is that?

“I… I don’t know? I guess I don’t really remember. How is that even relevant?” Admittedly, his hackles were rising.

“I’m just taking a page out of Bruce’s book. I was little when I first started training to become Robin, you can’t fight a kid, and I was adorable, so he was totally crazy about me.” Tim managed to repress a snort. Dick smiled knowingly at him anyway, “he’d make up little games like that sometimes. Not sure how helpful it was, but I’m still here.”

For a moment, Dick looked a bit… ill. He survived the Robin mantle. It was never supposed to be a mantle. They’d learned in the worst possible way that not everyone would survive. As open as Dick seemed, if you had pushed yourself as hard as Tim did into understanding him, it was plain as day to see: he repressed a lot of his feelings.

Tim cleared his throat. He wished he had the right words to say. Even if he knew Dick was thinking Jason, he hadn’t said Jason. He had no right to prod something so tender. He was proud of how far he’d been able to get on this little crusade, but that often meant pushing too far. He wasn’t the most proud of that.

“Bruce doesn’t do those things with me. He doesn’t hurt me, ‘course not… but, uh, nothing is a game. This is dangerous work, it shouldn’t be a game. And I’m not a little kid, it’s not like he needs to do that.”

Dick stared at Tim in a way that told him he was being assessed. Tim, in all of his prepubescent glory. He wasn’t oblivious to how he looked, but it didn’t matter. He was smart enough, he was strong enough, and he was mature enough. Bruce shouldn’t have to baby him.

“Well, it sounds to me like you’re in desperate need of a good cop, Timmy.” Dick reached up, tapping the bar twice. Tim’s stomach fluttered. He failed to hide a nervous smile.

“…Do I really have to?”

Dick held up placating hands. “Not at all. Nobody’s forcing you.”

But it couldn’t hurt, right? But it’s an easy way to build your strength and endurance. But Bruce did it with me. No buts came. It was his choice.

Tim turned to glance down at himself. Was he still ticklish? He had no idea. He told himself that it could be a potential risk factor, but really, he just had a curious spirit, and when was anyone ever going to ask him to do something like this again?

Staring up at the pull up bar, it suddenly felt so much so much taller. The butterflies occupying his stomach had taken it upon themselves to migrate outwards to his limbs. Everything felt wobbly and tingly. Tim didn’t know why he was this nervous. It seemed excessive.

“It’s easier than most of my training, so, um.” Despite his legs feeling like they were going to fly away, Tim jumped back up into a dead hang.

“I think you’ll be surprised.” Dick’s words sent a funny little jitter through his system. His fight or flight response kicked into high gear when the other’s hands began to near his torso.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait… I’m not ready yet, I… I’m not ready—“ A stream of frantic titters and the effort Tim put into inching away from the perceived threat already depleted some of the energy that he would need if he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. As if he hadn’t already.

Dick crossed his arms, eyeing Tim with a smile. “Take your time, Boy Blunder.”

He hung there in his shame for a few moments longer before a coo violated his ears. “‘I’m not a little kid,’ he says, ‘easier than most of my training,’ he says.”

Dick stumbled back with a hearty cough-laugh when Tim landed a passable kick to his ribs. He reappeared in Tim’s field of vision with a disgruntled, but undeniably entertained expression on his face.

“Are you ready yet? Because I’m thinking if you can’t take it anymore, you should just give me another one of those.” Dick rubbed at his probably sore side. Tim was giving him the stink eye.

“Something tells me you need a little more incentive. I’ll put in a good word for you with B if you last for a little while?”

“…”

“I’ll make up a different story, don’t worry.”

Tim deflated in relief.

“That’s… not really that great of a reward, that’s like getting a gold star in school. But fine.”

“A good word and dinner wherever you want. How's that, little prince?” Tim twitched and bit back a smile when Dick prodded at his tummy.

“J… Just get it over with already—“

“You asked for it.” He hummed. Tim was confused and more afraid than he should be when Dick moved to stand behind him. He made a strong effort to try and make anything out through his peripheral vision, but found that he couldn’t without turning his head. With where his arms were holding onto the bar, his face got all squished whenever he tried to turn and look. He could push past if he lifted his head, but that was just so awkward.

Dick only started once he gave up on trying to peek. When blunt nails began to skitter around the nape of his neck, just along where his hair lay, the full body shudder Tim was wracked with almost made him lose the challenge immediately. Curling up his shoulders wasn’t an option. The feeling of Dick’s hand vanished before he could fully crane his neck back.

Two sets of fingers tapped up and down his back like little spiders. Big spiders, if they were to have been real, but Tim didn’t want that mental image. He squeezed his eyes shut, tucking his legs up towards his middle and tensing into something of a statue.

“You’re honestly doing better than I thought you would, you were so nervous before.” Dick chuckled good naturedly, stepping back in front of him. Tim was too flustered to so much as look at the older hero, let alone formulate a response. Fingertips clawed along the surface of his tummy, and he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

Tim squeaked and flailed from side to side, the little that he could in either direction. His arms were really starting to quake now. Taking a risk, he dropped one hand from the bar to protect his stupid, ticklish self.

“Ticklish tummy? That’s a real liability in the field, you know.” Dick’s silly commentary only made him giggle harder through his steady stream of laughter. Good-cop-mentor had a small giggle of his own. He was so obviously having way too much fun with this.

Tim was in no way ready when hands travelled up to his underarms. It wasn’t his most ticklish spot, he didn’t think. It was just the fact that he was so vulnerable, it made him squeamish. Squeamish must have meant an amplified tickle response, considering the way he immediately screeched and kicked about in alarm. That coincided with the foreboding chime of the elevator.

Please let that be Alfred. It could be President Luthor, for all he cared. Just anyone but Bruce.

He forced himself to rotate on the pull up bar, and sure enough. Tim hung his head, blowing a fuse. At least it put any of the soreness in his arms on the back burner for now.

“Dick, please… stop tormenting him.” Bruce admonished flatly.

Tim didn’t want to get Dick into trouble. “It’s training… to make me better at holding onto stuff in emergency situations. He said he did it too.”

These two men that Tim had spent his entire life idolizing exchanged glances. Dick was grinning remorselessly, Bruce was so tired of him, but loved him to the moon and back.

“To my knowledge, this is not training that I've ever implemented. I… think Dick may just be teasing you, Tim.” Despite the less than ideal circumstances, Tim got a bit of a rush when Bruce smiled at him.

To be entirely fair, he agreed to this when it was very clearly disclosed to him that he did not have to.

“Fine, you caught me. But I don’t even care, ‘cause guess what?” Dick did not give Tim the chance to guess before he was ripped from where he’d been mindlessly dangling and cuddled like a stuffed toy, “You’re mine now.”

That was probably the day that it all well and truly began, and Tim had not known peace ever since. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Bruce could only not think anything of it for so long until he had to intervene. “It” being the fact that Dick decided he was feeling playful in the middle of a debrief with the commissioner. A debrief about potential signs of activity from Victor Zsaz. Serial murderer, criminally insane, all around bad news.

The moment a little gloved hand snuck around into his peripheral vision, he carefully stopped its path. Only for Dick’s other hand to shoot around and attempt to wiggle its way under his cowl.

Bruce’s shoulder twitched up towards his ear. Jim was never going to let him live this down.

“Robin—“

An entirely unapologetic snicker came from overhead, where he was carrying his son on his shoulders.

“Alright, alright… you just lost shoulder privileges.” He set Dick back on his feet. He didn’t look too distraught about it, at least.

It was astonishing how much of a dad he had become in the, objectively, small amount of time he’d had the acrobat under his care. He regularly pulled out all the stops. Now, he was kneeling down to meet Dick’s eyes. He was only restless, Bruce could tell. He must have wanted to go home. There were significantly more safeguards set in place for Robin than usual because of the climate in the city’s criminal underbelly.

It was understandable that a kid would get bored, and Dick was high energy by kid standards.

“The night’s almost over, hang in there.” He stood to his full height.

That little frown… pulling back his cape, Dick appeared happier to scuttle into the offered place of sanctuary.

Bruce exhaled a long, suffering sigh, slowly lifting his head to meet the commissioner’s eyes. He was sure he hadn’t experienced this much dread since the last time Arkham Asylum security breach rumors began to circulate.

Jim’s expression gave nothing away. Bruce attempted to mirror that.

“…I—“

“You know that I have a little girl. Just keep talking.” He more than understood. Chances were, he knew understood than Bruce did, and was a much more respectable father.

“Right…”

* * *

Bruce was tired. Both Batman and Robin were out of any armor, having changed into something more comfortable. When he realized that Dick always seemed to get a second wind after patrol, he’d started keeping more practical activewear in the training deck. Tonight was no different.

Did his aching muscles want to play chase? No, not exactly, but he wasn’t going to be as spry as he was now forever. Those aches would one day sink into his bones, and he hardly ever afforded himself any time to waste.

So, around and around they went, vaulting over and ducking under scattered equipment. Dick’s talent really shined in moments like this.

“You know I’m gonna catch you.” Eventually.

“No!” He squeaked.

Ironically, after taking a second to peer over his shoulder, Dick didn’t see the gym mat he was rapidly approaching. It came up to about his calves, he’d been running so fast that when they collided, he went head over heels.

The fact that it was a big rectangle of soft foam with the express purpose of cushioning falls marginally soothed Bruce’s spiking blood pressure.

He crashed down onto the mat next to Dick, setting a hand on the squirmy boy’s shoulder to roll him over onto his back.

“Well… I caught you. Now what should I do with you?”

The only response he got was frantic, boyish laughter.

“That’s not an answer.” Bruce was trying to keep his tone flat, but a smile was creeping onto his face.

“Okay, okahay, umm…”

“You should let me stay home from school next week— no, forever. You should let me stay home from school forever.”

Dick was starting to giggle in the following silence, but didn’t break eye contact as Bruce stared him down, who eventually huffed and let his smile take over.

“Nice try.” Prodding lightly into Dick’s tummy already had him squealing.

Taking notice of this, Bruce solemnly hummed. “Oh, Dickie, you’re in trouble.”

He hovered overhead, his little Robin free to wriggle around, though he never strayed far. He’d rolled onto his side, arms outstretched, pawing at the mat below. Bruce spidered a hand up his side to sneak under his arm. The fallout was instant.

“gEHIT out of there!” Dick squeaked. He was surprised when, shortly after, Bruce listened.

He was then caught by the calf, legs pulled into his father’s lap where he sat cross legged.

“We’ll go under your knees instead.” He spoke like he was being charitable, the facade cracking with a chuff when Dick, as he’d predicted, began to babble incoherently. His following shriek had Bruce worrying about the potential for falling stalactites.

“Inside voices, chum.” He coaxed, a quiet chuckle lacing his tone.

He shouted like this meant life or death. “sUPERMAN! SUPERMAN! Clark! Rescue meeEHEHE!”

Bruce slowly pulled back, releasing Dick’s leg as the words registered. As sweet as the bond between the two most upstanding, pure of heart individuals he knew was, it was late.

“I told you to only use that for emergencies.”

“Maybe this is an emergency…” The boy looked petulant. He probably knew that may not have been the best call, but he was stubborn, and wasn’t changing his mind now. “Clark said I can call for him whenever I want.”

That’s because he’s Clark. He would give up his life for you in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, because he sees your little face and melts.” The teasing smile on Bruce’s lips was a rare sighting. He reached out a hand to pinch at his son’s cheek, earning a wrinkled nose and a snort.

“Well that’s not my fault—“ The strong gust of wind that swept Dick away would have knocked Bruce into his back, had he not braced the ground with his hands.

“You came!” Dick rejoiced. With Clark already holding him, he couldn’t run up and glomp him to blow off steam. He instead looked to be squeezing as tight as he could manage.

“I— Y… Yeah… yeah. Of course I did.”

Bruce didn’t know if Kryptonians actually got winded, but Clark was ruffled, scanning the cave for any signs of imminent danger. He began to slowly collect himself. He did tell Dick that there wasn’t ever a bad time, whatever he needed, Clark would get there as soon as he could.

He hadn’t been in another galaxy on a suicide mission. Making himself look slightly more presentable and flying to Gotham wasn’t a big deal. He would rather be called upon for something mundane than so much as imagine Dick in Bruce’s definition of an “emergency.”

Seeing how excitable the boy was, Clark was able to come down from most of his panic.

“So, what am I rescuing you from, buddy?” He asked with a quiet smile. Dick pointed, and it had him raising an eyebrow.

“Oh really?” He cocked his head.

Bruce had stood up by now. He was eyeing them from a few feet away, arms crossed, probably brooding.

“Hey, Bruce, uh… late night, huh?”

Clark was too nice. It gave him the jitters. “I— yes, crime doesn’t sleep. I’m sorry about… he—“

“He has nothing to apologize for.” Clark hiked Dick up in his arms. Jitters.

“I’m glad you think so, I guess.” Bruce’s voice softened in a variety of ways, his gaze averting.

“Dickie said I’m rescuing him from you. What do you think about that?”

This was so stupid.

“I was teasing him.” Bruce’s frown was slowly starting to look less frown-like.

“He was tickling me! On purpose!” Dick was set back down on the ground to take his stance, once again pointing in accusation.

“Because you were pushing my buttons on patrol.” Bruce bent at the waist to better meet his son’s eyes, unable to keep himself from smiling for any longer.

“Yeah, well… I’m a kid. It’s okay when I do it.” The aforementioned kid overruled.

The adults in the room exchanged delighted glances. Cute.

Dick wasn’t going to be a kid forever. That was the next best talking point, but Bruce wasn’t sure he was any more ready to face that than his little Robin.

He quietly sighed. “You really couldn’t have called for Alfred?”

“Alfred needs his sleep, B.” Dick almost sounded chiding.

“What abou—“

Clark chimed in. “I don’t need sleep in the same way a human does, let alone a man his age who hasn’t retired.” He sounded very pleased with the fact that he was invulnerable to insomnia just like nearly everything else.

Alfred couldn’t simply retire from being a father figure. He wouldn’t know how. “Butler” was nothing but a formality, he acted like a mother hen because that’s what he was.

But that was personal. Bruce rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I’ve learned my lesson, Superman. You can go home now.”

“That’s not justice and you know it.”

He did not like that smile on Clark’s face, and that was saying something.

“Say what you mean.” He said it with more intensity than he would normally allow to rear its ugly head around Dick.

“Well… I’m pretty sure the game goes, you tickle, you get tickled back.” Clark’s body language painted a vivid picture. He was this close to getting one of his closest friends to let down one of the many walls he kept up. You would think Clark had toppled more of them by now. He hadn’t.

“Is that what you think?” Bruce had donned his punchable billionaire smile.

“Why would I be ticklish?”

Dick squinted at him. Even the little one could see that he’s bluffing.

“You’re human, Bruce.” The phrase rolled off Clark’s tongue with a sarcastic smile, like it was just so obvious.

He would never, ever get to know how that momentarily touched Bruce’s heart. But it did. It often didn’t occur to Bruce that trying to be near superhuman was supposed to be out of his reach. It stripped him of his humanity.

Depressing, honestly. He shouldn’t have to be reminded.

“Most people are at least a little ticklish.”

He had to come down from cloud nine. “I’m not like most people…” a pathetic, mumbly excuse of a counterpoint.

“You’re stalling.” Another thing that Clark saw as a very normal observation, another thing that rocked Bruce’s world.

“I’ve got a job to do, can’t leave justice waiting all night.”

Absolutely awed, Dick trotted along behind him like a fawn following a big buck. It took a moment for Bruce to conduct a thorough enough analysis of just what he’d gotten himself into.

Even if he were to have been honest, he couldn’t have given Clark a concrete answer. People didn’t tickle him. That was an insane, alien concept to most. Although, Clark did technically fall into a gray area on that front. More well adjusted than most of the human population, not necessarily human.

Bruce stood his ground as they crept closer. “You’re not invincible, Clark.”

“You’re going to resort to kryptonite because I threatened to tickle you?” That was a little too good of a point. The dark knight’s stomach turned.

“You’re being ridiculous…” He muttered, turning tail to approach the Batcomputer. Because what did Bruce always do when he was faced with something he didn’t want to have to deal with? He threw himself into work.

Even if he was ticklish, if he somehow wouldn’t be able to keep a hold of himself, then he’d clearly failed as an individual and needed to go for another round of global apprenticeship under the best of the best.

Bruce didn’t foresee that happening. Sitting himself down, he began to boot up the various monitors looming over him.

“Are you hiding?” He could hear the smile in Clark’s voice, who came up from behind to lean rest his arms over the back of the rolling chair.

Bruce was, if anything, entirely too visible for his liking. He momentarily tensed when fingertips tapped ever so gently against his side. As he’d suspected, he was able to gather himself with little trouble.

“We can do this all night, you’re wasting your time.” A bold claim.

One that Clark took as an offer. “Maybe we will.” He hummed.

“Yeah, Bruce, maybe we will.” Dick puffed up. So big and strong.

Bruce shook his head, remaining stone faced. It was, admittedly, difficult to focus on work. He couldn’t so much as remember what it was that took priority. A very low bar.

He exhaled as the nagging feeling against his waist crawled upwards. Bruce was sure this would be a lot easier if he felt he could so much as move, but that was showing a sign of weakness.

“Somebody’s getting a little tense.” Clark remarked with a smile.

He just couldn’t win. Paralyzed wasn’t the way to go, but that was how he stayed as a hand cupped his bicep, and lifted his arm.

“Down here, maybe?” It was mind boggling how a man with strength that neared godhood could be so gentle. Bruce was helpless to stop how he twitched at the fingers fluttering under his arm.

“Yeah? Maybe?”

“I’ll kill you—“ His threat broke off into a soft, mirthful gasp, a quiver running through his body. He didn’t have a contingency for this.

“St— ugh…” He bit his tongue, twisting uncomfortably in his chair.

A second hand began to cautiously pinch at his waist. Bruce didn’t know what to do with himself, not a single part. His arm wasn’t stuck, Clark wouldn’t do that unless he wanted Bruce to wake up with bruised knuckles— men of steel didn’t get bloody noses.

He couldn’t commit to any sudden movements regardless. Seeing stars, he just stayed there, shuffling about in his seat like an idiot. The sharp huffs he’d been letting out through his nose were getting dangerously close to resembling laughter.

“You’re not used to this.” Clark was sympathetic. Endeared, in a way.

No, of course he wasn’t. Before Dick came into Bruce’s life, the extent of physicality he engaged in was a hand on the shoulder from Alfred, and Brucie Wayne sleeping with bachelorettes who he didn’t care about. That wasn’t counting the combat Batman engaged in most nights.

“I… I dohon’t—“ You laughed, is what you did. He turned down to face his lap. He was sure he was burning up. A neuron finally decided it wanted to fire, and one arm came down to wrap around his torso.

That did little to stop “justice.” The rush Bruce got trying to protect himself from something that wouldn’t hurt momentarily might have put some of the light back into his eyes. He breathed out something resembling “oh my god,” posture hunching further.

Clark was the only thing keeping their fugitive from rolling away when Dick suddenly bounced up onto Bruce’s lap. A collective oof came with the impact.

When little fingers wriggled into the crook of his neck, Bruce’s nervous system flared in a way he could only remember from his early childhood. His shoulder jerked up with much more force than he would have liked. It was less a matter of sparing his pride by this point and more about not crushing Dick’s hand like a bug.

A surprised laugh followed, one that he was grateful was significantly louder and more boisterous than his own. He’d lost their game a while ago now, he felt it in the hitch (and warmth) of his chest.

“Is that the spot, Robin?”

The goofy grin Dick directed towards Clark told him everything he needed to know.

He wasn’t sure what he should expect. He scratched a pointer finger against the nape of Bruce’s neck, the quiet “tickle, tickle” that he gave was mostly ironic. He too wasn’t sure he could have prepared himself for the way his friend, the hardass who still occasionally tried to insist they were only coworkers, responded.

Bruce tossed his head back, his smile was wide, but simultaneously timid. His eyes were squeezed shut, and the sound of what would have been a laugh muffled through his teeth.

Clark never had that conversation with Ma or Pa Kent, he didn’t think he had to, all things considered, but he knew a beautiful man when he saw one. He didn’t see much of Bruce without his cowl, and Batman rarely smiles. He couldn’t imagine why, it was so charming. He was starting to think that needed to change.

“I… hah, um…” Bruce’s voice was lacking its usual sternness.

“I think you’ve humiliated me enough for one night.” He settled for sarcasm.

Dick squealed when he was swept up and draped over his broad shoulders like some kind of scarf.

“And I think you’ve caused plenty of trouble.” He murmured in a voice that let the boy know he was off the hook because it was bedtime. All of that yipping and yowling settled into quieter, content titters.

Clark eyed them, wearing the small smile that he didn’t think had left him since he started this. Dynamic duo.

“Get out of my cave.”

He blinked. “Well… alright. Are you gonna be nice while I’m gone?”

Bruce flushed, his lips twitching. “Out.”

Clark grinned. He left with a kiss to Dick’s forehead and a “sleep tight.”

* * *

Bruce had been tucking Dick in for about half an hour now. It wasn’t meant to be this long of a process, but Dick wouldn’t stop raving about the night’s events.

“Chum. Enough.” He smoothed back his son’s hair, whose wide eyes made him resemble a cat whose forehead got pet a little too hard.

“But B…” Dick whined, shaking his hair back into place. “I like when you laugh.”

Bruce’s mind went quiet for a moment. Such an outlandish concept.

“Now you tell me ‘thank you.’” A sidekick always had a smart remark.

“Oh, where are my manners?” That drew a giggle from the boy. He let a smile cross his face, as real as he knew how.

“Thank you… you’re very sweet.” He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a second chance at a family after the path of vengeance he’d gone down. Bruce needed Dick just as badly as Dick needed him.

“You’re such a good kid, you know that?” He didn’t say it nearly as much as he should.

Dick preened, his dimples deep in his cheeks. He was happy.

“You want me to stay with you for a bit?” They didn’t do it every night. It was normally Dick seeking Bruce out if he couldn’t fall asleep. They would end up back in his bedroom, Bruce would sit with him and stroke his hair until he knew Dick was off in dreamland.

Ryland always knew you were one of the brightest, so, if there’s any teen stuck on this ship with him he’s not surprised it’s you [as much as it kills him].

And the two of you? Closer than most. He can still picture you clearly in his mind from before the launch, either bouncing around the classroom with the younger kids or practically falling asleep on the desk from your own schooling, and even now it’s not so different. Especially considering how you were practically vibrating around him right now.

He can’t blame you, considering now all there is to do now is wait to arrive at Erid. The two of you were watching rocky sleep right now - Ryland leant against his enclosure ball as you laid on the floor staring up at the roof. He could be working probably, finishing whatevers left on the laptop sitting on his knees, but he was much more interested in entertaining you.

“Was I different before.. everything?” You ask bluntly, heels pattering against the cold floor, full of energy. “Please tell me I wasn't, like.. really annoying or something.”

And Ryland laughed, really laughed. You scoff, sitting up with a huff. “I’m serious!”

“No, kid, you weren’t annoying.” He replies with a final chuckle. “Annoyingly bright, maybe. The kids would just love it when you corrected me.”

“Hey, I remember that! You’d mess up formulas aaaalll the time.” 

“That was on purpose, to see if the class would pick up on it.”

“…Sure.”

You started giggling before Ryland whipped his head around at you with that glare. “It's true!” He said, exasperated.

“I dunno. Maybe sixth grade science is just that hard for you.” You smile innocently, and just before he goes to close the laptop you splutter out; “Okay! Just kidding, joking!”

“That’s what I thought.” He hummed triumphantly, leaning back. “You know, I remember a lot about you. A couple really interesting things.” And, something in his tone tells you he's up to something.

“..You were stalking me?” You blink with a head tilt that makes him snort. “What?- No, never. You know that.

“Do I?” You whisper, looking up to catch his gaze. “Another joke! I’m just funny like that.” You slowly lean to roll over on your stomach, head laying on your arms. “But seriously. What?”

“Somthing that’d shut you up for once.” He said idly, shifting your head to lay on his leg instead of the metal flooring. “It was very entertaining.” 

“I think you’re bluffing, ‘cause, it takes a lot to shut me up.” You emphasize with a flick to his arm. “We know this.“

“Right.” Ryland scoffed. “The nerve on you..” He emphasised with a jab to your upper back. 

Usually, the common reaction from you is rolling away, or swatting him back, but instead? A giggle pushes itself up and out, and you just barely lean away. Interesting.

“..Huh. You’re quiet.” He states after a beat.

“..What?”

“I mean, usually by now you’re telling me ‘no, no, stop’. Right?”

“No to what?”

“To tickling you, obviously.”

“What?” You splutter, immediately turning to look at him. You don’t think you’ve ever felt your face heat up this fast. “When- When have I- No??”

“Oh, no?” He grins, leaning down. “I remember it very well, don’t you? Maybe we can jog your memory, kiddo.”

Before you can scramble upright, his hand pushes itself down to scribble across the backs of your side and you’re so gone.

“Theeere we go. Come on, giggles, don’t you remember?” He asks, tone thick and all teasing.

And, then; yeah, you remember - being his intern for however many years didn’t come torment-free after all. It’s small, barely flashes, but it doesn’t fluster you any less.

“Seheriously?” You whine, “I’m too ohold for thihis! Ryland!” You can’t help but squirm slightly, mostly curling up on him. You seriously regret changing your position, it was too hard to fight back like this! ..But, also, maybe you don't mind too much? The line was blurry, okay?

“No, you're too ticklish for this.” He corrects in that stupid smug tone he just loves to flaunt. “Never too old for it. And, besides, if anyone’s too old for it, it's definitely not you. You're basically a baby! ..Plus, as you age your skin actually loses sensitivity, and—“

“Grace! Shuhut uhuhup!” You cry out, shoving him wherever you could get too. You end up hitting him weakly in the mid torso, causing him to pause.

“Shut up? Shut up? Ohoh, you’re really getting it now.” His free hand slides the laptop off his lap and onto the floor as he looks at you properly now. You slowly sit up when you have the chance too, smiling nervously. 

“Hey, hey, wait— we’re talking right?” You get out, soft anticipatory giggles leaving your lips as you inch away from him.

“Talking? Yeah.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “We’re also laughing and squealing, that too.” His hands fly forward to get ahold of you, pulling you back. 

You’re a fighter, always and forever, so obviously you don’t go down without proving it. 

“Gehehet off!” You kick your feet out, hands trying [and failing] to push his hands off. Seemingly untroubled, his fingers find that perfect spot on your hips and squeeze.

You fall back against the floor with a hiccup, giggling rapidly. One arm reaches to fall over your face, the other holding onto one of his wrists. Everytime you try to roll over, he simply holds you in place, and this feels so familiar but you can’t think hard enough to remember where.

“In classes, mostly.” Ryland states, like he could read your mind. “Not like this, obviously, because.. Well, you’d never live it down. The class loved you, but they're brutal.” He chuckled, “If i’m remembering correctly, you had a spot riiigghhhtt….” One of his hands reaches up to scribble his blunt nails quickly to the side of your neck, just short of tasering. “-Here.”

You almost snort, scrunching your shoulders up and shaking your head. You can practically hear the smile in his voice, as that hand trails down to rest on the side of your stomach. 

His other hand stayed right on your hip as he spoke, still relentless. “You’d bring your homework in sometimes when you didn’t get enough time to finish it. You worked hard, y’know, too hard sometimes. Whenever the kids couldn’t convince you to take a break, I seemed to. Any guesses to how?”

“Yohou- fuck- yohou’re so ehevil,” You groan, head leaning back. “That’s.. sohoho stupid.”

“It worked. And you smiled. Just like you’re doing now. So, is it that stupid, really?” Before you can answer and tell him 100% yes, his hand spiders up your tummy and you fold immediately.

“Ohohokay! It’s nohohot! Ihihits fine, Ryland, plehehease!” 

“Exaaactly, see? You got there.” He speaks with mock praise, hands both settling at your sides. “You act like you hate it, I know that much. But, really, it’s not so bad, is it? I’d go as far to say you like it.”

“You’re delusional.” You scoff.

“Am I? Or am I right, and you dont feel like admitting it?” One hand reaches up, slowly peeling your arm away from your face. Slow enough to resist if you wanted to, but you don’t. He would’ve cooed if he didn’t know you’d probably take drastic measures over it. But, how could he not atleast have the thought too?

“..It can't be both?“ You barely mumble. He simply smiles, leaning down. “I knew it. Oh, look at you.” He clicks his tongue, “My handiwork? Good. Look at that smmiilllee.” He grinned, and, it was too soft for you to be truely mad with. Obviously, you try anyways though.

“I’ll-..” You trail off, blinking before rolling your eyes. “Just, you-.. Fuck off, Grace.” ..Which, yeah, wasn’t very threatening considering the blush on your face.

“Oohhh, no words? None?” He tutts, “And, another thing— language.”

“Oh my god.” You groan, turning your head away.

"In front of a scientist? That's rough, Truely.” He looks down at you. “You know, I wouldn’t if I were you. In this position?” His hand on your side slowly digs in, and you bark out a laugh and squirm the other way. Asshole.

“Ryland!” You yell, trying to will something resembling anger into your tone. Not working out for you.

“Fiiiine,” He sighs dramatically, fingers eventually stilling. You don’t get up immediately, instead curling up onto your side.

“Worst previous boss ever. Tried to kill me, multiple times apparently.” You grumble under your breath.

“Oh, come on.” Ryland huffs a small laugh, reaching a hand near yours to help you up. “Look alive, kid. Rocky should be awake soon.”

The unexpected voice nearly had Tim turning around, but if he let himself get interrupted now, he’d lose his flow and it would be impossible to force himself back on track. 

“Working.” 

Tim could practically hear the pout in Dick’s voice. “Working? When I’m in Gotham? Timmy, I’m hurt.”

Tim rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his energy drink – shit, almost empty. That was his last one, too. He might have to start in on the coffee, soon. Blegh.

“Didn’t know you’d be home this weekend.”

A body suddenly draped itself over the back of his chair, which was not helping with the ache in his shoulders and upper back, thank you very much. Tim grunted at the extra weight and allowed himself a brief glare at Dick, whose head was now resting on his shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

Dick hummed. “No, not at all. I mean, it’s not the most comfy, you are pretty bony, but I can make-do. I cuddle with Wally all the time, after all.”

Tim closed his eyes and counted out a few steady breaths. When he reopened them, he turned to face Dick again and found Dick already watching him. Thankfully, he’d backed away a bit, so they weren’t having to cross their eyes to see each other.

“Dick. I’m busy right now. We can catch up later, alright?”

Dick pouted, the manipulative jerk, and glanced towards Tim’s desk. He knew Dick was taking in the mess of paperwork and casework he’d snuck up from the Cave, the excess of drink cans that he’d yet to haul down to the recycling, the state of the current report he was working on, all in a few seconds.

“Looks like you’ve been working for a bit now…”

“It’s due soon.”

“How soon?” He should’ve known Dick would immediately latch onto the vague wording. 

“Soon enough that you should leave me alone.”

Dick hummed again, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t take even just a little break?”

“I’ll break you,” Tim grumbled under his breath, but Dick was too close not to overhear. 

“Timmy,” Dick sing-songed, drawing out his name. 

For some reason, Tim’s skin started prickling, his heart thumping with a surge of adrenaline. Tim shrugged his shoulders, even with Dick’s weight pressed against them, trying to dispel some of the anxious energy. Maybe he had had too many energy drinks.

“What?” 

“You have five seconds to save your document.” 

Tim startled, glancing back toward Dick again. “I— wait, what?”

“Five… four… three…”

Tim swore under his breath and saved his spreadsheet, then the few other documents he had open too. Dick was kind enough to slow down his counting a comical amount for Tim to do so, even adding some fractions into the mix. When the last document was saved and Dick reached zero, he reached out and flipped the laptop shut. Tim pulled his fingers back with a yelp, barely clearing the edge of the device before it closed.

Tim managed to shake Dick off his shoulders for real after that, spinning his desk chair around to glare up at him. “Satisfied?”

Dick smiled, slow and innocent, but there was a dangerous curl to the edge of it. Tim was too preoccupied to bother wondering why it made him so twitchy, already mentally adding up further spreadsheet edits he needed to make in his head. He’d get to it as soon as he got Dick out of his room. Ugh, this is why he rarely stayed at the Manor anymore — at least at his Nest, he could lock obnoxious brothers out. 

“Almost,” Dick said, drawing out the word again. “Just one more thing.” 

Tim rolled his eyes. “And what’s that?”

Dick slunk closer, Tim’s hackles raising with every step. He loomed over Tim and said, “Baby brother giggles.”

Tim barely had time to spit out a curse, trying to throw himself out of his chair in time to make a break for it. He knew it was futile — Dick had well and truly cornered him before he even realized the danger of the situation — but no self-respecting Wayne went down without a fight. Still, it was far too easy for Dick to lurch towards him, sweep an arm around his waist, and just fully yeet him onto his bed. Dick quickly bounced onto the mattress after him.

“No no no,” Tim babbled as he tried to kick out at Dick to keep him away. “Come on! Why me? You have a perfectly good babiest brother downstairs!” 

Dick laughed, fending off his feet. “Should’ve run when you had the chance, Timmy! I gave you plenty of warning.”

Dammit, and Tim’s body had already long figured it out, too. He was just too stupid to listen. 

A hand locked in a vice grip around his ankle, and Tim yelped as he was dragged across the bed. Dick wasted no time pinching into his knees and thighs as they came into range, leaving Tim gasping and kicking and swallowing snickers. He thrust his free foot into Dick’s forearm until Dick hissed and was forced to let him go. He immediately rolled onto his stomach then, getting his hands and knees underneath him to crawl away, cursing the bunched-up squishyness of his unmade bedding as it tripped him up and hampered his progress.

And then a lanky mass of limbs and fluffy hair landed on Tim’s back, knocking him flat to the bed again with a startled “oof!” Dick chuckled behind him, deep and slow, and Tim’s heart set off like a jackrabbit. Goosebumps prickled along his skin as the baby hairs of his neck stood on-end.

“You really think I was gonna let you get away that easy, kiddo?”

Tim tried to toss Dick off, bucking and twisting to no avail. He huffed out a breath, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “The hell have you been eating over in Blüd?”

“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy… I’d almost think you’re trying to make this worse for yourself.”

As if. Tim had been busy, thank you very much! He had the W.E. reports to finish, and after that he had several in-progress cases to be working on, and after that he had some online practice tests for the GED he was trying to get in secret, and—

He just had a lot to do, okay? And Dick interrupting him was not fitting smoothly into his projected schedule. So what if some older brother tickles might actually make his brain stop spinning for a few minutes? It’s not like he’d try to dig himself into a deeper hole just to ensure a moment of peace. Especially since he’d probably be too wiped-out to keep working after, and Dick would drag him downstairs for some dumb family time activity, and he’d probably force Tim into being his cuddle buddy for a movie night or something and lure Tim into actually sleeping when he needed to be working, and—

Look. Tim wasn’t that desperate or self-sabotaging, okay?

Shut up.

Tim scoffed, still squirming, but gasped and went still as Dick settled curled fingers against his ribs and sides. They twitched threateningly, and Tim twitched with them.

“Can’t we talk about this?” Tim asked, trying to keep the giddiness out of his tone. It just made his voice sound small.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dick said conversationally. “You go ahead and talk. I’ll just be here.”

Tim craned his head to shoot a wary look at Dick over his shoulder. Dick, lounging over his back like it was the most comfortable place in the world, blinked at him innocently. Tim narrowed his eyes but opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what he was about to say. Dick, both confirming his suspicions and saving him from having to come up with something, immediately vibrated his fingertips into the sides of Tim’s torso.

“N-no! Wait!” Thank god for Tim’s unmade mess of blankets, now. The way they puddled around provided him with a thick layer of fabric to bury his face in and muffle all the embarrassing noises he made as he tried to hold his laughter at bay.

“Wait? What do you mean? I’m not doing anything. I’m waiting on you, Timmy.”

Tim was so getting Dick back for this. If his brain hadn’t instantly scrambled under the ticklish assault, he’d already be planning his revenge. As it was, it was all Tim could do to shake with barely-contained laughter. 

Dick’s vibrating fingers paused and slid lower down his sides, squeezing into the flesh and muscle and baby fat still clinging on there even though Tim was 18 now. The good news? Tim was way less ticklish down there. Now that half his ribcage wasn’t in Dick’s grip, it was way easier to breathe around his suppressed laughter. The bad news? Dick’s hands were ever-so-slowly crawling back upward, which Tim knew from experience promised a no-holds-barred attack on his ribs the moment Dick got there. Arms flailing backward, he managed to latch his hands around Dick’s wrists, hoping he still had the strength to push Dick away. He only realized his mistake when Dick cackled out a laugh, one that was eerily reminiscent of his Robin days, and shot his hands up into Tim’s now-exposed armpits. 

Far too late, Tim clamped his arms down against his sides — or, at least, tried to. Being pinned facedown didn’t leave him much maneuverability, and he couldn’t get his arms properly tucked to his sides for the life of him. Not that it would’ve deterred Dick, anyway. Still, Tim would have preferred the flimsy semblance of protection against Dick’s jolting scratching. He wheezed into the blankets before finally cracking, stuttering laughter forcing its way past his lips.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Dick said, infuriatingly conversational. “Come on bud, I’m all ears. What was it you wanted to say?”

Tim shook his head, trying his best to wriggle out from under Dick’s weight to no avail.

“No, no, don’t clam up now! I’m your big brother Tim, I’ll always want to hear what you have to say.”

Asshole, Tim thought. Then he hunched his shoulders with a squeak as Dick blew a cool stream of air over his nape and ears. It wasn’t as effective on him as it would be for, say, Damian, but it was still enough to send gooseflesh racing up along his neck and arms and make a giggle sneak through before he pitched back up into full laughter. Dick broke character for a moment to coo at him.

Tim managed to flip Dick off with one of his utterly useless hands, turning his head to the side to speak through his laughter, “You’re a j-jerk!” 

Dick gasped, loud and melodramatic. Tim quickly reburied his face with a screech as Dick shifted his fingers slightly downwards, digging into his highest rib and the space between it and his underarm.

“Baby Bird, I can’t believe it! Here I am, holding space for you and your feelings, and you hurl such abuse at me?” 

Tim, ever one to dig his own grave, replied simply with, “Deserved!”

He doubted it was intelligible through his laughter and blanket shield, but Dick seemed to understand him anyway. The only warning Tim got was a muttered, “Well if that’s how it is,” before one hand slid out from under his arm and vibrated ruthlessly into one of the kill-spots on the back of his bottom ribs. 

With two of his absolute worst spots being targeted with the sort of ruthless efficiency only an eldest sibling can have, Tim could only let out a wordless laugh-scream as he tried to cope with the sensations. The following cackles were loud and frantic, pulled deep from his lungs, and Tim had to twist his face into the open to get the air to support them. He tried desperately to thrash, to do anything to dislodge those hands, but Dick had draped his torso near-parallel over Tim’s own, leaving him no leeway. Bucking up to try and throw Dick off only bounced the both of them on the mattress, making the tickles even worse by jostling Dick’s hands into his ribs. The most he could do was kick his feet frantically, drumming them against the bedding, as if that could somehow alleviate the incessant buzzy, tingling, ticklish feeling overtaking his entire body and mind. 

He could tap out. Tim knew he could tap out, and Dick would respect it here just the same as on the sparring mats. Tim’s hands spasmed against the bedsheets once, twice, before his fingers tangled themselves into the fuzzy blankets and gripped tight.

“Dick!” Tim cried out. “Dick!!”

“Yeah, Timmy? I’m here, what’s up, bud?”

Tim wailed again as Dick managed to seamlessly swap which side got which treatment, renewing the sensations tenfold. “Ti— tic— it tick—“

“Sorry, could you speak up? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Tim let out a sound of frustration, tinged with too much giddiness and mirth to really be taken seriously, and thumped his feet against the mattress extra hard. Dick huffed out a fond laugh.

“Yeah, I bet it does tickle, huh, bud?”

Tim shrieked as Dick briefly clawed at both spots before switching back to the digging vibration of before. He tugged at the blankets fisted in his fingers, trying to bury himself. 

“Ohhhh,” Dick said, drawing out the word in a dramatic moment of realization. “Is that what you wanted to talk about this whole time? How tickly-ticklish you are? Well, why didn’t you just say so!”

If Tim could’ve groaned through his guffaws, he would have. As it was, he barely had the wherewithal to flip Dick off a second time. Another foolish mistake on his part. Dick chuckled deep and low and evil right next to his ear. Too quickly for Tim to process, there was a rush of cold air against his back as Dick raised his body up and away from Tim’s. Then, the tickling hands were gone too. Tim had barely sucked in a full breath before his shirt was unceremoniously shoved up past his ribs and Dick was blowing a long raspberry right up against one of those bottom-rib kill-spots.

Another laugh-scream (or was it a scream-laugh? The screaming definitely felt like the main sound) escaped Tim as the ticklish vibration spread outward across all the nerves in his back. He felt like a live wire, twitching and frenzied. It didn’t help when Dick’s next breath was dedicated to a series of shorter raspberries up and down that same side, each one sending a shock through him. After everything Dick had already put him through, it took Tim an embarrassing amount of time for his brain to process his freedom of movement and load up his defense mechanisms. Long enough for Dick to get another scream-worthy raspberry against his lower ribs before Tim managed to roll onto that side to protect it. 

Of course, that left one side not only completely defenseless, but practically handed to Dick on a silver platter. Dick, living up to his name, took full advantage of it, sending Tim crashing back onto his front as he jolted away from the evil, evil raspberries. They did that song and dance for a while, Dick teasing with his laughter and wordless coos while Tim flopped from side-to-side like a particularly stupid fish. It took another embarrassing several minutes (and several rounds of this particular torture) for Tim’s brain to load up some less stupid defense mechanisms and finally roll into his back. Take that Dick! Can’t torment the death spots on the backs of his ribs now. But instead of being put-out, Dick immediately seated himself over Tim’s thighs with a bright grin.

“There you are, bud!” Dick gave a few sporadic pokes around his stomach and sides. “Was wondering if I’d ever get to see that sweet smile of yours!”

Tim immediately started giggling, hiding his face behind one hand and slapping at Dick’s fingers with the other. “Dickie,” he whined.

Tim watched Dick cock his head through his fingers. “What? I thought your tummy looked lonely, don’t you think it could use some giggles too?”

Tim shook his head and watched Dick melt in real time.

“No? Are you sure?”

Well, if it would keep his brain quiet for a bit longer…

“Maybe just a little,” Tim mumbled.

Dick melted even more, if that was even possible. He wiggled his fingers into Tim’s stomach, digging into all the spots that made Tim feel giggly and fizzy with his own ticklishness. Tim removed the hand from his face, latching both hands onto Dick’s wrists. Not pushing Dick away, just holding on while he threw his head back with giggles and laughter. Eventually, Dick’s fingers tapered off. A set of dry lips pressed against Tim’s temple, and he peeled his teary eyes open to give Dick an embarrassed smile.

“All tickled out, Baby Bird?”

Tim was too exhausted to be defensive, giving Dick a nod. He beamed at Tim before rolling off of him, settling next to Tim in the bed and pulling Tim into his side. Tim snuggled in with a sigh.

“We were missing you downstairs,” Dick said after a moment, his voice soft and quiet. “You work too hard.”

Tim shrugged. “It has to get done.”

Dick hummed and rubbed his arm. “Shouldn’t be at your expense. Don’t turn into Bruce.”

“Or you?” Tim gave Dick a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Or me,” he grumbled. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, brat. You coming down for movie night or what?”

Tim groaned and flopped more fully over Dick’s chest. “No,” he whined, drawing out the word. “Comfy. Naptime.”

Dick laughed. “Come on, bud. I didn’t turn you into a mushy little cuddle monster for nothing, I need my movie cuddle buddy.”

“Fine. But you’re carrying me.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

It took them a few minutes to get Tim settled onto Dick’s back, mostly because Tim decided to ragdoll and make Dick do all the work for his own amusement. They made their way down to the theater room where the rest of the family was already gathered, finishing up an argument on what they were going to watch that night. There was, of course, the teasing for the frantically ticklish sounds that had echoed down the stairs from Tim’s room, but it was almost worth it for the lingering drowsy, no-brain endorphins still running through his body. As it was, he just buried his blush in the crook of Dick’s neck, much to everyone’s clear amusement. 

Still, Tim could live with it. Especially when he got to doze off to some detective film, warm and cozy and under the watchful eye of his family. He could afford to take a break, just for a little bit.

How long have you been on this ship anyways? You can’t think off the top of your head. You should be counting. Maybe Ryland was counting. And then, oh, Ryland. Rylands awake. Because, when isn’t he?

You shouldn’t bother. Super smart science stuff, or whatever, but as soon as you roll over, of course the light flicks on.

You practically whine, pushing your face into the pillow. “Ryland!” You scold, or try, but it mostly sounds like a cry for help.

“Sorry! Sorry,” He practically winces, twisting the lights lower with a low hum of worry. “Sorry.. I didn’t mean to wake you up, really.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that part.” You grumble, sighing more heavily than you’d like to admit and sit up with your legs crossed.

“Whats that meant to mean?” He asks, rummaging through some box on one of the higher shelves. “You were sleeping before.”

“No I wasn't. I was pretending to sleep in hopes that I would really fall asleep.”

“..That’s usually effective?”

“No.”

Ryland looks over his shoulder to you, just failing to hold back a small smile and laugh, and you roll your eyes, turning away. “Not funny.”

“No, no, I know, but you’re pouting. I’m sorry, not funny.” He explains in a soft chuckle, slowly abandoning what he was doing to sit next to you on the bed [if you could even call it that]. “Rocky will come watch you sleep, if that’ll help! ..I honestly don’t even think I could stop him even if you say no, so, say yes.”

You let out the smallest chuckle, shrugging in the dim lights and letting your shoulders drop. “I don’t think I have a choice. But, you guys are busy.” You mutter, yawning softly. “Just wish this wasn’t so hard.”

Ryland leans forward, that scientist glare shining in his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be. You know, maybe we could develop a sort of melatonin, and—“

“No way.” You cut him off, “Come on.. We have bigger things to be working on. In fact, I should be up anyway, we have tons to finish off.”

“What? Hey, no way, sit.” He puts a hand on your chest firmly, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “I’m only up so late because I slept last night. Can you say the same? Hm?”

“..No.” You mumble out, strained. Or, more of a ‘no-wuh’, if you were honest. Petty. But, you live your truth anyways.

“Uh-huh, exactly. No.” He continues, and, yeah, he’s talking you down like one of his middle school students. You’d lecture him if it didn’t hurt to blink right now. “Just lay down, okay? It’ll feel better than sitting up.

“You ‘no’. Don't tell me what to do.” You get out instead, flopping back down onto the bed.

“And yet, they do what I say anyway..” He muttered under his breath, shifting to lay next to you. “Thats it. You need to take a breath, try not to work yourself up over it, okay?”

Which.. was good advice actually.

“Who are you and what did you do with Ryland?”

“Oh, come on,” He laughs, “It's just.. late. And I'm exhausted, so I can't imagine how you feel. I’ve gotten you to sleep at least a couple times right?”

“Maybe by nerding me to sleep.” You tease easily, stretching your legs before curling up next to him. “But.. I guess, yeah.”

“Hey, at least it was effective.” He chuckled. “But, seriously.. Anything we haven’t tried? Surely something..” He muttered, falling into thought.

“There is nothing I haven't tried, I can guarantee. ..Literally, I have notes.”

“Alright, alright, but never say never. Maybe.. we can tire you out! We’ll do something fun.” He rolls over from his back to face you, and you almost roll back away. Excuse him?

“Tire me out? Tire me out. Ryland, you have no idea how tired-out I already am!” You cry out, exasperated, and you have full intentions of going on a tangent before he gently presses a palm to your cheek.

“I know,” He speaks gently, gentle enough to talk that angry tangent away, “I know you are. What I meant was.. Your brain needs serotonin to produce melatonin. It’s the direct chemical precursor."

“..Right.” You murmur. And, yeah, maybe you haven’t had a lot of time for that lately with all the chaos of trying to get to Erid. “Well, there’s not a lot of ways to instantly produce it. No sunlight here..”

“That’s wrong.” He says simply with a hum, “There’s tons of ways. One of the easiest being laughter.”

“Well, we’re stuck then, because you’re not funny.”

“Oh, I can be pretty funny when I try.”

“..What’s that meant to mea—NO!”

His hands dart to your sides, squeezing inwards softly as many times as he could get in before you shove him away. “Grace!” You snarl.

“Ooh, it’s Grace now? That means you’re really mad.” Ryland grins, way too happy with himself as he props himself up to try and grab your arms.

You’re so much better than this. You are, really! You could fight him off any day, any time, and you have many times before. But right now? You practically melted, barely a fight put up. You’re too tired to pretend you don’t want this, need it, just something to ease everything for a bit.

“No fight? That’s new.” He hums, legs swinging over your thighs and looming over you. “Alright, you’re under arrest. Hands behind your back, citizen.”

“What?” You groan, a giggle leaving your lips. “What crime did I commit? Aren’t you gonna read me my rights?.. Oh, and another thing, we’re in space, stupid.”

“Is this resistance to arrest?” He gasps, before grabbing at your wrists, which you just barely push away. “AND assaulting a police officer? You’re going away for a long time, buddy.” Ryland tuts, and you want to wipe that smug ass look off his face, but he easily grabs your hands and pulls down to your hips to let his knees pin them.

“You have the right to remain silent,” He starts again, hands trailing over your stomach resulting in a quiet whine and giggle. “Or beg and squeal. I’m fine with that aswell.”

You’re about to reply, that stubborn remark about to leave your lips, but his fingers suddenly vibrate into either side of your stomach and you couldn’t care less.

It’s not like this is an uncommon occurrence either, and whenever that thought crosses your mind, you immediately groan in embarrassment. Because that’s what it is; embarrassing, but somehow in the best way possible. It’s not angry, hot white embarrassment that simmers deep inside you, just.. flustering, in the best possible way, the kind that makes you never want to leave this moment. Ryland makes you feel adored. So, who are you to say no to this?

Not when he’s obviously enjoying this so much. ..Just him, definitely.

“Whaaat, you have nothing to say?” He hums in fake pity, “You lose your tongue? Come on, you always have something to say. Your head is just too busy, huh? Am I distracting you?”

Your head tips back in squeaky laughter, squirming with whatever energy you had left [which, by the way, was close to none]. “Shuhut uhup-!” You groan, shaking your head as if that would ease the sensations. “Mohove spots!”

“Dont tell me what to do.” He said simply, mimicking your words from earlier. Fuck, you’re gonna kill him. ..After a solid 9 hours of sleep, hopefully. You kick out behind him, causing him to almost slip off you, which has you laughing for another reason.

“Oh, that’s funny?” He chuckles, looking down at you with that evil glint in his eyes, and your heart immediately drops. “Nonono- it’s- it’s so tragic and i’ll never do it again!” You ramble out, still giggling even though his assault has paused.

“I,” He leans down to your ear, making you scrunch up with a gasp. “Think you’re lying.” He whispered, before blowing a raspberry deep where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Fuck! Fuhuhuck, Ryland!” You yell, giggling rapidly and tugging at your arms. ..Nope, still very pinned, but worth a shot. “Nohot.. Nohohot lying!”

“If you say so..” Ryland leans up with the biggest smile playing on his lips, almost matching yours, hands gently spidering up your ribs. “I’ll play nice, for now. Just this once.”

You grin, head pushing into your own shoulder and hide half your face. You swear you could never let anyone else hear you like this, all giggly and pliant.

“D’awwww.. Seriously, this is adorable. Look at you!” He praised, sounding all too genuine for you to snap back at. You shake your head with a no, laughing softly into your own skin.

“No? you’re not?” He huffs. “I don’t know about that, for example, do you have ears? Do they work? Can’t you hear yourself? ‘Cause that’ll do it.”

You can barely bring yourself to answer, your face feeling so stupidly hot you can only imagine how flushed you look. This was probably doing wonders for his ego, like he needed anymore.

“Thihis is sohoho unfair.” You get out, voice sleepy and full of giggles. His fingers dip into your sides, spidering around the area. Was it unfair? No, not at all, you honestly would’ve ended up baiting him into this sometime soon anyways. But your brain was a little bit busy dealing with all the other sensations to think of anything sentient to say.

“Nah, it’s pretty fair. You need to sleep, and I need something to do. It’s a good trade, I'd say. Plus. Isn't it fun?”

“Noho!”

“Oh, come on, now you’re just lying. You love this. Especially when I do this- Oohh, there’s that laugh of yours!” He chuckles with you, hands suddenly digging right into your hips causing you to squeal and buck up.

“See? Isn’t this better?” Ryland hums casually, like he isn’t practically tickling you to tears, squeezing and drilling into the area.

“Okay! Oohohokay- Ryland! Ryland plehehease, please, ihi’m good now!” You laugh out, heels digging into the bed behind him. He took that as a sign to let up, smiling just as wide as you as he slid down and off of you.

“..Fuck, don’t look… soho proud of.. yourself...” You grumble, panting and catching your breath with leftover giggles.

“I’m sorry, I'm just too good at my job apparently.” He grins, laying back down next to you and pushing the now messy hair out from your eyes.

“ ‘M tired.” You mumble, eyes already closing.

“That was the point! And my methods were obviously very effective.” He exclaimed proudly, before quieting down, words sweet and genuine- “..You should sleep while you can. You did good.”

And before you were conscious of what was happening, he was pulling the blankets up over you, and you were drifting off. Maybe you’d be mad at him in the morning, but, for now, you could finally sleep.

Maybe you were just in your own head. Yeah, definitely, you should focus. So you try. Read over your notes, try a different method, do it better. But now it’s hours into the night and no progress has been made for the better.

So, it’s no surprise when you don’t notice when Ryland is lingering by the doorway. You stare down at your work, and he knocks twice. When you don’t look up, another two times.

“Hey, kiddo.” He hummed, stepping into the room to stand behind you. “Why don’t you call it a night?”

“No.” You mumble simply. “Need more time.”

“Right, right..” He nods along, and you only notice how worried he looks when you glance up for a second. “..What?” You manage to get out.

“..Do you, uh..” He shrugs, acting casual. “Want help, at all?”

“You think I need help?” You reply, slightly short-tempered. “Because I don’t. I can do it.”

“I never doubted you.” He said, softer this time. “Not at all. I didn’t say you need help, I’m asking if you want help, even if you can do it yourself.”

Ryland was used to it, he remembers his students well. Those stubborn kids who would refuse help to their last breath, insist they can do it. The independent ones. He respected it immensely, but everyone got to a point.

“I don’t.” You murmur, looking down. “Or, I shouldn’t. I just- It- It should be easy. I’ve probably done this a million times. But I just- Can’t for some reason. I should be good enough for this, Ryland, I—“

“Hey! Hey, woah woah woah,” He cuts your rambling off, leaning down to your chair to see you face to face. “It's okay, you’re okay..” He reaches a hand to wipe your cheeks, and it’s just then you realise tears were falling down them.

“I know, I..” You sniffle, shrugging. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why this is getting to me so much.” You admit, voice barely there. “It’s just frustrating.”

“Don’t I know the feeling..” Ryland hums, leaning up and pulling you with him. “Why don’t we go sit down, yeah? Somewhere out of the lab.”

“Okay.” Is all you manage to get out before your voice breaks, almost a sob, before you cut it off with an attempted deep breath. In, and out, just like Ryland always told you.

“Come here.” He sighs, but not in annoyance, like he was letting go of a breath he’s been holding in worry. He slowly brings you into his arms, giving you time to back away if you wanted, before he squeezes you closer.

He doesn’t let you go for a bit, not until you calm down completely, which takes a while. And, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been held like this, so, you weren’t exactly in a rush.

But unfortunately, you have to breathe without being crushed in Ryland’s chest eventually. So, you back off just a little. “..I’m good.”

“It’s okay not to be.” He murmured, looking down at you with eyes full of concern. “C’mon, before Rocky finds us.”

“Rocky can always find us, stupid.” You don’t bother to hold back your tongue anymore, causing a soft laugh from Grace. “You know what I mean! Stop it, just come on, you.”

He leads you to the observation deck, helping you sit in the middle next to him in front of what looks like the ocean. It’s gorgeous, you can’t help but think, along with how badly you wish you could see it again.

“Hey, stop that.” Ryland snaps his hand in front of your face causing you to look up.

“What?” You blink, almost scoffing. Excuse him.

“Getting into your own head like that. It’s not good for you, especially here.” He explains, gesturing to the ship around them. (You don’t tell him that all you can see right now is the water). Right, trying to avoid existential crises in the middle of space might be a good idea. But, hey!

“Grace,” You say, trying to stay completely serious, but somehow that smile has slipped back onto your face. “You dare to ever snap your fingers at me like a dog ever again, I’m throwing you off the ship.”

“Oh-hoh, someone’s feeling better.” He grinned. “What, you mean like this?” Shoving his hand impossibly close to your eyes, snapping again, and, oh, you’re going to kill this man.

You stare, trying to act intense (which works just a little, you could be scary when you want to be!), before suddenly grabbing his wrists and attempting to pin him down.

The roughhousing was pretty normal between you two, playful fighting that helped ease any tension and force that energy into the focus of winning. And even after all the experience, you always seem to forget that maybe, just maybe, the 6’0 jacked guy may just overpower you a tiny bit. Only a little.

“Fuck!” You exclaim in a loud laugh, trying to gain control of the situation again. Ryland simply raises an eyebrow, effortlessly pushing you down just barely to keep you off of him. “Heeey, what did we talk about? Language!”

“Stohohop-“ You giggle, because this is so stupid, but you feel so incredibly light after getting everything out of your system before, so you can’t even complain. He finally clicks his tongue before deciding to give mercy, if you could even call it that, because all he does is decide to properly pin you instead.

He gently lifts two arms above your head, your figure half slouched against the wall. You squirm, before throwing your head back with a breathless chuckle. “Okay, okay, you win. Or, maybe you don’t- Anymore added to your ego and you’ll fall off the face of the earth. ..Oh, wait..”

That only makes you laugh more, soft giggles spilling from your lips as you push your face into your arm. And, even if he won’t admit it, Ryland was right there laughing with you.

“Oh, you think you’re soooo funny don’t you?” He sighs dramatically, shaking his head in a disappointed act. As soon as you open your mouth, he speaks up. “That was rhetorical!”

“..Well, actually- Shihit!” You immdiantly cut yourself off with squeaky giggles bubbling up your throat. Ryland had switched your wrists into one hand of his, the other scribbling in the middle of your tummy, and you’re so dead.

“What? You’re sorry?” He hums casually, “That’s what you said, right?

“Nohoho! Grace, Grace!” You cry out, kicking your legs out with a hiccup. You try and fold in on yourself, only resulting in the sensation spreading across your torso worse. Or, better? The line was blurry.

“Oh, come on, you only call me Grace when you’re mad at me. You’re not mad at me, right?” He asks, leaning down into your ear so you could hear him over yourself. Your neck scrunched up on the side he chose, shaking your head as you lean away.

“I ahah- am!” You get out, but he simply lets his fingers wander up one side of your ribcage, stopping just under your arm instead of replying.

“Okayokayokay- Wait, let’s talk! tahahlking is fun!” You immediately blurt out, eyes trying to glare at him, but laughing too hard to make any impact.

“Talking is fun, especially when we’re talking about you. Say, were you gonna come get me at all? Tell me how you were feeling so I could fix it? Cross your mind, kid?” He keeps his face straight, eyebrows furrowing in focus as he stills his hand for a moment.

“..That sounds..Less fun?” You offer with a nervous smile, before his thumb digs right under your top rib. Funnily enough, you consider changing your mind.

“Ohohokay okay, fun! Whatehehever!” You giggle out, shoes thumping against the metal floor with a quiet echo.

“Dont worry, I’ll fix it for free this time. Consider it a favour!” He smiled playfully, his hand slowly trailing up and under your arm. You immediately try to tug your arm down, letting out a noise that was just short of squealing. “Oohhh, listen to that laugh? You feeling better, hm? All giggly now? Good, good.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, simply continuing with a big smile on his face that told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

Ryland suddenly stops, clearing his throat as he leans up. “Are you paying attention? Now, class, this is very important information for the test.” And, Fuck, you take it back. You’ll probably die from this before you get to kill him. “Now, the human species regularly has 24 ribs, 12 pairs. Today we’ll be looking at an example, while I demonstrate!”

“Oh my gohod, Ryland, please..” You whine, head leaning back with a slight squirm of anticipation. “Come on, this isn’t fair, I didn’t agree to this!”

“What? Teaching is what I do best, and someone has to educate you up here.” He hums, hand lingering at the bottom of your left ribs. “Remember, 12 on each side. Say, won’t you be so kind and keep count for me?”

“ihihi- I guess?” You smile with jittery chuckles slipping from your lips as you look down at his hand. You’re so getting him back for this later.

“Reaadddyy?” He sang, grinning at you. “Because if not, I can wait, I have all the time in the world. Or, space, for that matter.”

“Youre soho dumb.” You groan, taking a deep breath. “..Okay.”

He slowly drags one finger up, scratching gently between the bone. “Ooonnneee…” he drags out, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Twoooo…” His hand slips into a claw, before slipping up to the middle of your ribcage and vibrating into it.

Your head slams back, eyes squeezing shut with a sharp laugh. Maybe he kept counting, but, some would say that you were slightly distracted, so it was background noise to you. “Come on, you gotta stay still!” He exclaims between his own chuckles. “I think I've lost count. I guess I have to start again.. Unless you remember my number, that is.”

You immediately blank, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck, um- mahaha- maybe, maybe 6?”

“Hhmmm..” He performatively tilts his head back in thought. “You know, I don’t think so.” His hand drops from the grasp on your arms, only to skitter across both of your sides. “But this will do”

You immediately shove his arms away, not before a few full laughs and hiccups leave you. He follows you, making sure you don’t fall over, and you don’t even want to think about the huge smile on his face.

“Okay, okay, I plead the fifth, you’re done. I’m. ..Well, not really- but, for your sake, I’m sorry.” He rambles just slightly, and you groan but still lean right into his shoulder again. “There you go, good job.” He hums.

“..Hey, Ryland?” You murmur, your voice just carrying. He looks down expectantly. “Help me out tomorrow?”

He simply smiles, looking back up to the observational screens. “If you’ll have me.”

Small mercies.

Colt was the only one who could come. I remember it now.

All too well… his favorite song. I smiled to myself.

I toss the beanbag in my hands up towards Mary’s cockpit “ceiling.” It accelerates endlessly, infinitely, in zero gravity. The beanbag makes contact and spins back down to me. I’m not wearing glasses so it hits me square in the nose—a blur of green and blue yarn. 

***

I stared at the empty sky. Everyone else’s family had already arrived. I turned back to head to the science building alone, losing hope. Just as I took a few steps away from the landing pad, I heard the distant roar of jet engines.

Oh. He made it. 

Colt hopped out of the jet, cool as a cucumber. As if he did this every day. 

He probably did, to be honest. 

“Well if it isn’t Dr. Ryland Grace!” Colt called, striding confidently towards me. 

I had to actively frown to avoid having some weird reaction, like being happy to see him or something. Imagine. 

“You’re late,” I complained, meeting him halfway. “And would you keep it down?” I hissed.

“Why? Aren’t you a big shot around here?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way—“

“Come on, I want the grand tour,” Colt grinned, elbowing me in the side. 

After I gave him his “grand tour” (the trailers, the launchpad, the science building), I brought Colt around to a quiet clearing behind my trailer. 

“You’re not gonna invite me inside?” He needled.

“It’s cramped in there,” I said. It was true—they’d given me the closet-sized one. Not that I minded too much.

“Oh, so not as much of a big shot as I imagined, eh?”

I ignored him and sat down on the bench. Our breaths fogged in the chilly Baikonur air.

“What are you up to these days?” I asked him awkwardly. I felt a little guilty that I’d barely spoken to my twin brother in the past few years. 

“Filming more movies,” he said languidly. “Setting myself on fire. Throwing myself at walls. Getting beaten up. The usual.”

I nodded slowly. It had been too long since we last fought about his lifestyle choices and I wasn’t in the mood to rekindle that argument. “Are you still seeing that director?” 

His face lit up and I couldn’t help but smile. “Jody, yeah,” he said, staring off into the sky with a smile. “She kind of dumped me, but then we got back together. It’s been great.”

His joy was contagious. “I’m glad,” I murmured. 

I didn’t push for more—marriage, kids, etc. Speaking as a single middle-aged man, I knew those questions were annoying as fudge.

He looked over. “Hey, there we go.”

“What?” I asked.

“You’re smiling again,” Colt grinned.

“I- well, yes, but what’s your point?”

“You’ve been so serious today,” Colt complained. “For a second I thought saving the world had made you all stoic and boring.”

“I’m not saving the world,” I protested, eyes downcast. 

“You literally are.”

“No,” I said sadly. “Yao and Ilyukhina and Dubois are.”

Colt exhaled slowly, the breath whistling through his teeth. 

I blinked away tears.

“It’s super…” He searched for the right word, “…solemn out here, huh,” Colt mused. 

I nodded. 

“Listen, I’m… I’m glad you found something so meaningful to spend your time on,” Colt murmured genuinely. “Not that teaching wasn’t, but I don’t know… you seem like you have a community with these people. It seems like people appreciate you.”

I looked back up at him. It had been a long time since he’d been so sincere with me. 

I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Colt,” I said, my voice cracking. 

“Yao, Ilyukhina, Dubois,” Colt mumbled. “I heard about them on the news. Are you close with them?” ”I spent hours training Dubois on the science of astrophage,” I explained. “And I taught Yao and Ilyukhina some basics as well. And all three of us spent a lot of time in meetings together.”

He nodded. 

“I’m sure you did a great job, Ry,” Colt said. “They’ll be such experts that astrophage will come out of their ears or something.”

I let out a feeble laugh. 

“C’mon, bro, you can do better than that,” Colt chuckled. I yelped as he hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me in for a noogie. 

“Gosh, Colt, whahat’s up with you today—“

He messed up my hair even further and I tried to shove his hands away. “Can you give me something more than a dying man’s last breath as a laugh, dude?” 

“That’s not— Lemme go,” I whined. 

He only tightened his hook around my neck. “I learned all sorts of chokeholds for my last movie. Just saying.”

I pursed my lips and made a grumbly sound of annoyance. Neither of us did anything for a moment, and then he squeezed his bicep and forearm together to squish my neck even further. 

“Ack- Colt! You’re choking me, dang it—“

“C’mon, Ry, curse me out like a real man.”

“You’re asking for this, you jerk.” I scribbled my hand up Colt’s exposed side from his hip to his armpit like a spider. 

Colt flinched away from my hand, his hold on my neck loosening. He made a squealing noise that I hadn’t heard him make since we were just kids messing around. “Hehey, don’t!”

I snickered. “Now let me go.”

He growled. “No.” 

Colt shifted his arm so he was gripping the nape of my neck with his hand. He squeezed three times and I went berserk, sinking down in my seat and kicking out like a lunatic. I exploded with squeaky giggles and my cheeks burst into flames.

“COHOHOLT!”

Colt skittered his fingernails around the sensitive area. “Now that’s a real laugh,” he said smugly. “It’s kind of adorable that this still works on you.”

I batted weakly at his hands. “Gohosh daharn it— Stohop that!”

“Not happening,” he said. “Fuhget-about-it,” he added in that silly New York accent we both do.

Colt scratched gently behind my ear and I squealed. He chuckled along with me. 

I wasn’t going to take this lying down, dang it. I twisted my torso to face him, pressing my shoulder towards the side of my neck that he was tickling to protect it. Colt had an arm propped up on the back of the bench and snaked around my shoulders to reach my neck, leaving his armpit wide open. Bingo. 

I plunged my hand under his arm and wiggled my fingers desperately, trying to cover as much surface area as possible. Colt burst into giggles, his arm shooting down and releasing my neck to protect the sensitive spot. 

“Oh, not so smug now, huh?” I prodded. I squeezed and scratched at the hollow of his armpit.

“STOHOHOP- Get outta thehere!!” Colt leaned desperately away from me, sliding down the bench, but he was too weak from laughter to shove me off or run away.

“Does Jody know about this?” I teased relentlessly. “Does she know she can take down Mr. “Danger is my middle name” with just a few wiggling fingers?”

“SHUHUT UP!”

“Oh, man, your face is so red right now,” I grinned. 

“RY, STOHOP—CONVERSE!”

I stopped as soon as I heard it. That was our code word when we were kids, when one of us was in a situation we didn’t want to be in and needed out immediately. And yes, we sometimes used it when one of us was pinned to the floor and being tickled within an inch of our lives. Usually it was me. 

“You okay?” I asked. Yes, I was a smidge concerned. 

He caught his breath, huffing and puffing dramatically. “Motherfucker.”

Another time I’d have said “Language,” but today, I quipped, “Would be concerning if that was the case. Considering the twin situation.”

“Smartass,” he said, and then suddenly he was tackling me to the ground. I landed on my stomach, bracing my forearms against the dirt. 

“OWWW… Colt, seriously?” I whined.

I felt him straddle my hips and I grunted an “oof.”

“You’re such a baby,” he complained. “Anyway, did you think I was gonna let you have the last word—Uh, the last tickle?”

“Ugh, let me up,” I grumbled. “I laughed for you already, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, no, mission accomplished in that regard,” he chuckled. “You see, little bro, this is about my pride.”

“You’re only four minutes older— AH!”

He had started pinching up my ribs in the middle of my sentence, and I broke down into wheezy giggles. “Cohoholt- OKAHAY I’m sorry for tickling you!” 

“Compelling apology,” he said nonchalantly.

“So why aren’t you STOHOPPING?!” 

Colt began to torment my upper back, clawing and massaging at my shoulder blades—between them, around them, under them. He dipped into my armpits every so often. I screeched in ticklish agony. 

“Just doing it for the love of the game, bro,” Colt replied smugly.

“OKAHAY okay come OHOHON, tell me what you want and stop alreheheady!”

“Hmm…” Colt drew it out smugly. “I want you to…”

“JESUS CHRIST, JUHUST TELL ME!!”

He slowed his fingers to a gentle skitter across my back. I settled into soft, snorting giggles again. “Fine. I want you to call me more often,” he said. 

“Okahay, I will,” I promised.

He climbed off of me. “And I want you to be in my life more. And meet Jody.”

“I can do that,” I grunted, taking his offered hand and letting him pull me up. “Launch is in a month. After that, I’ll be much more available.”

He pulled me in for a hug. We hadn’t done that in a while. I found myself melting into it, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his shoulder. 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Colt said. His voice was so fragile it could shatter.

“I will,” I mumbled. 

“I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t want to find you in the state I found you today.”

I pulled back and we started walking back to his jet. “What state is that?”

“Sleep-deprived. Stressed out. Sad.”

I made a punched-out noise. “Jeez.”

“It’s true.”

I shrugged. “It’s a demanding job.”

“So is stunt acting, but you don’t see me doing my stunts without safety gear.”

We reached his jet. He took my face in his hands. 

“What’s this?” I gestured at the weird embrace situation. 

“Just shut up and listen,” Colt rolled his eyes. “Be careful. Good luck with the launch.”

I nodded slightly. “Thanks.”

He patted my cheek lightly. “I love you,” he said, unexpectedly.

We both stood there a moment, surprised. 

I squeezed his hand three times in reply. I love you.

He started walking towards the jet. Before he got in to the passenger seat, he pointed a stern finger at me. “Eat your fucking carbs, man, your brain runs on glucose,” he shouted over the roar of the jets. 

I couldn’t help but laugh. 

There was a lump in my throat as his jet took off. I turned to walk back to my trailer. 

Thanks for that one, Stratt.

***

I caught the beanbag one more time and took a deep breath before getting up.

Tap tap tap

I drum my fingers on the table idly, eyes shut in focus.

“…88.” I say with a nod, opening my eyes, and taking a bite of my burrito.

“Go fish.” Simon replies around a mouthful of his own food.

“Ugh- chew your food, please.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Without talking.. Food’s gonna fall out the side of your face, which I’m not interested in seeing.” I wrinkle my nose at him.

Simon swallows the bite of food, clearing his throat, and making a performance of licking his exterior teeth clean with the long, sharp tongue I often forget he had.

He k owes it freaks me out when I do remember. It’s the only non-human thing about him that does, come to think of it, which he finds sick joy in, I imagine.

I shudder, looking down at my food. “So unnecessary…”

“There, Princess. It’s gone.” He deadpans. I roll my eyes.

“Thank you.”

“What’s 88 mean?”

“Nothing… I was just doing some mental math.”

“Mental math, huh?”

“Yeah. Working on some tests in the lab, and I was trying to calculate how many days it’d take for one of my samples to quadruple, based on the environment.”

“Huh, cool. Can I test you?”

“…test me? Like one of the samples-?”

“No- no, your mental math.”

“Oh! Yeah sure, okay. Shoot.” I reach in my pocket, and pull out a small, blue, NASA branded stress ball.

I guess that’s all the Hail Mary team thought we’d need to handle the stress of the mission…

I toss it to Simon, starting an impromptu game of “the stress ball is lava.”

He catches it with his prosthetic hand, smirking at me. “You stay ready, huh?”

“So I don’t ever have to get ready. Hit me.”

“What’s… 88 + 88?” Simon sits back in his seat, tossing the ball back to me.

I catch it, passing it from hand to hand.

“Seriously? 176.” I toss it back.

Simon catches and holds it, takes a moment, calculating it himself, before nodding. “Yeah, that’s right… probably too easy for you…”

I shrug.

“Okay, how about… 1,114 x 24?” The ball’s in my court again.

I stare off for a moment, thinking.

“You’re burning...”

“Shhh, I know, it’s excruciating, hold on.”

“Quickly, Gracie!”

“That’s… oh jeez, uh… twenty six thousand… uh… seven hundred thirtyyyy six.” I throw the ball to Simon.

Simon blinks at me. “Mary, what’s 1,114 x 24?”

“1,114 x 24 =26,736.”

“No shit! You got it!” Simon smiles with a slow nod, setting the ball on the table. I guess we’re done.

“I- well it’s just multiplication- anyone could work it out.” I look off to the side, a little sheepishly. I can feel my cheeks lighting up red.

“Not that quick- that’s pretty impressive. Whats the square root of 6,422?” He quickly picks the ball up again, launching it at me this time.

“Where are you getting these numbers?” I chuckle as the ball hits me in the chest, and I scramble to catch it.

“Just answer.”

“80.13, I’m a science teacher, I’m gonna know how to do math- it’s really not that impressive.” I say, stuff ing the ball back into my pocket.

“Yeah, but not everyone is smart enough to be a science teacher.”

“No, no that’s not true- intelligence is learned, not innate. Anyone can learn a discipline of study if they put in the effort.”

“How humble of you.”

“That’s- what?! I’m not being humble! I’m being serious.”

“Seriously humble.”

“Stop.”

“Would it kill you to take a compliment?”

“I Take compliments just fine, that’s not what’s happening right now, this is just a conversation.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Alright, fine. I think you’re very handsome.”

“I… what?! Th- that has nothing to do with being good at math, we’re t-talking about being good at math.” I scramble to put the words together.

“I know, but you would have been prepared for me to say ‘I think you’re very intelligent’. Had to catch you off guard. You failed.”

“No I didn’t!”

“You deflected. You ignored the compliment. Whats your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal, Simon.”

“Defensive…”

“Stop.”

“Your face goes red as the ocean, and you look farther into the distance than you normally do.”

“Oh now you’re psychoanalyzing me?”

“I’m not doing psyco-nothin’!I don’t even have to! I’m looking dead at you.”

“Well knock it off!” I say with an exasperated huff, my knee bouncing nervously under the table.

“You’re sweating.”

“It’s stifling in here.”

“It’s a crisp, bone chilling 68° in here upon your request.” Simon chuckles.

“I run hot.”

“You’re anemic with ice cold hands.”

I groan, taking a final bite of my food.

There was enough burrito left for two, maybe three bites, but in my haste to remove myself from the room, I opted to shove the whole thing in my mouth like a squirrel.

“Woah- you got all that..?” Simon chuckles, raising a brow.

I attempt to speak, nearly choking on the burrito, slapping a hand to my mouth.

Simon smiles, standing up to collect our trays. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He taunts, taking my empty tray from the table, dropping a passive kiss to the top of my head before walking away, to which I reply with an annoyed grumble.

Before he gets too far, I reach back, shoving my apparently freezing cold hand up the back of Simon’s shirt, planting it firmly on the small of his back for just a moment, before he hisses, and stumbles away.

“AGH-! Jesus-! You arctic bastard.”

I snort, covering my still full mouth.

“We’re gonna work on taking compliments, Hracie. Because that was pitiful.” Simon calls back as he turns the corner.

-

“Toss me that shirt by the ladder, could’ya?” I blindly point back with one hand, collecting laundry from around the dorm.

“This one?” Simon asks.

“…is it by the ladder?” I ask, without turning around.

“Yeah.”

“Is there… anything else by the ladder?”

“Not that I see, no.”

“Then yes, that’s the one.” I stand, turning around with a half full bin of clothes in my arms.

“Okay, attitude.” Simon retorts, throwing the shirt at me. It hits me in the face, but lands down in the bin.

I don’t flinch. We do this every laundry day.

In order to keep ourselves from becoming disillusioned with the idea of routinely washing our clothes, Simon and I made a game of tossing clothes into the basket while we gathered them up. The longer we kept it up, the more competitive and serious of a weekly ritual “Laundryball” became for us.

A direct hit to the face was an immediate foul, and voided any points that the shot had the potential to earn. I’d be a fool to l move and give him the point. Especially since Simon was currently up by several points.

“That’s a point! Mark it down!” Simon cheers.

“No, that’s a foul! You threw it strait at my face!”

“You could have moved!”

“And Lincoln could have moved out of the way of the bullet. Booth would’ve still been guilty for the attempt.”

“Who?”

“Yeesh- We’ve gotta teach you history… whatever. No points.”

Simon glares at me.

“How is that not a point? You hit me last time and you still got the point.”

“There’s a difference between me throwing the shirt, and you moving in the way of it while it’s in mid-air, and you throwing the shirt directly at my face.”

“Hardly.”

“No, there’s a clear difference. Mine was a fair point, yours is a foul.”

“Whatever… shit’s rigged.”

“You’re winning at laundryball! What’re you talking about?!” I point to a whiteboard on the wall that’s been divided into two halves, one with red tally marks, one with blue. Simon’s side, the red side, had significantly more tally marks than mine.

Simon grumbles.

“Aim for the basket so you can keep that lead.” I smirk, setting the basket down. Simon picks it up after me, taking it away to collect the last of the scattered laundry.

“Should probably throw this in too, huh…”

I look down at the shirt I’ve got on. White, with red trim, with racing flag decals on the chest.

Being a lighter colored shirt, it was already susceptible to stains, discoloration- the works. I liked to wash it a little more often than my other shirts, just to keep it nicer for longer.

“I guess. Doesn’t look that dirty to me, though.” Simon shrugs, tucking the basket under his arm, against his hip.

I”Can’t hurt.”

I cross my arms over my front, grab the hem of the shirt, and yank it off over my head in one quick motion, dropping it in the bin.

“Woah-! Jesus.”

“What?”

“I woulda turned around or somethin’!”

“Oh like I care. It’s just us.” I shrug, balling up my shirt, and winching it toward Simon, sinking it into the basket perfectly.

“OHHHH! That’s a point!” I pump my fist in the air, and clap a couple times, before jogging over to the board and adding a tally under my name.

Grace: 17, Simon: 26. …Still a ways to go…

“Anyway- you wandered the ship without a shirt for like a week when you woke up.” I say.

“Well that’s because I was in recovery.y skim felt like it was burning off.”

“Mmm, fair enough.” I mumble. “How’re those scars doing now, by the way? I know it’s been months now, but-“

“Fine. Hardly anything hurts anymore. Just occasional aches and nerve pain.”

“Well that’s good.” I cap the marker and set it on the ledge.

“Everything looks nice and healed now, from what I can see.” I turn, smiling at Simon.

“Yeah, I can’t…. Complain…” Simon trails off, looking at me - halfway concerned, halfway stunned

“…What?”

“Speaking of scars…” Simon points up and down my torso.

“Yeah..? What- what about them?” I cross my arms over my chest, a little self conscious now.

“How much of you is scarred up..? I didn’t realize it was so extensive.”

“Oh… y-yeah it uh…” I look down, lifting my arm. “My whole arm here, shoulder to palm… and a little bit of the back of my shoulder and neck as well. Oh, and the uh- handprint on my other arm. I kinda like that one though. Looks like a heart.”

“Those look pretty serious.”

“Mhm. Second and third degree.”

Simon grimaces.

“Oh, no It’s alright, it’s been a few years. Nothing hurts.”

“Can I ask how-?”

“I told you, didn’t I? It’s from when Rocky and I flew into Adrian to collect the samples we sent back to Earthp.” I explain, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I blacked out from bashing my head into the cockpit wall once the gravity changed, so Rocky had to drag me down here himself.”

Simon nods, listening quietly.

“He busted through his xenonite dome to right the ship and take me to medbay, but since he’s over 200°, it meant that I got burned in the process. But I’ll take burns over a failed mission any day. We got the job done.” I shrug.

“Rocky’s that hot?! So that’s why his hamster ball feels like a furnace.”

“Yeah.”

“Brutal…” Simon takes a step towards me, raising his hand. “May I?”

“Hm? O-oh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“You’re sure it’s not gonna hurt?”

I smile, raising my opposite hand to a particularly dark splatter of scarred skin, flicking it a few times with audible force, proving that I’m well beyond any pain.

“Promise.”

Simon winces.

“It’s fine! Like I said, it’s been years now.”

Hesitantly, Simon rests his hand on my shoulder, gently scoping out the textured hills and valleys of the burns.

He lets out a low whistle, raising and turning my arm.

“I never realized how beat up were… I’m sorry- must’ve been hell to heal.”

I shrug, tilting my head. “Pshh, it wasn’t that bad- I mean- look at you! You got… crushed in a submersible, you had to fight off a viral mutation, a-and you lost an arm, for goodness sake!”

“I mean, yeah, but-“

“You had two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder!”

“Grace, I know, I lived it.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry… I just- …”

“Just what?”

“I just don’t want you to feel any kind of way about what I’ve got going on with all you’ve been through.”

Simon frowns.

“Why are you downplaying your own situation?”

“I- I’m not.”

“You are. You constantly do. It’s starting to piss me off. Genuinely.”

I tense up a little. His voice feels far more stern than before.

“What’re you talking about?!”

“Every time you get a shred of kudos for anything you’ve done, experiences, accomplished, or said, you shrug it off! It’s beyond humbleness or self deprecation at this point, it’s habitual.”

“…”

“You’re allowed to accept praise every once in a fuckin’ while. You don’t have to be a thankless martyr all of the time.”

“H-hang on- I’m not a martyr! I’m not trying to act like a martyr! I just don’t think every little thing I do, or that happens to me is worth making a big deal about!”

“You don’t do little things, though! That’s what I’m trying to get through to you!”

“Yehes, I do!”

“Shut up and fuckin’ listen!”

“Watch your mouth.”

“HUSH.”

I flinch, Simon’s voice echoes up the walls. I shut my mouth.

“Just, shut up and let me talk.” He huffs, lowering his voice. “You survived a coma, you made first contact with alien life, you found a solution to a problem no one on your entire planet could figure out, saved the planet, saved Rocky’s planet, and just for a victory lap, you saved my life too. And continued to care for me after I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t mean to do it, Simon, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. You woke up, you were terrified, you didn’t know who I was and you tried to defend yourself.”

“By almost slashing straight through your throat?”

I sigh, raising a hand to the thin scar on the side of my neck, before dropping it back down again.

“You missed, I’m fine. There’s no hard feelings.” I say softly. I know he holds onto a lot of guilt for how he acted when he woke up, though I try to convince him that anyone would do the same in that situation.

“See?! And on top of it you’re sickeningly selfless and forgiving. Does any of that sound minuscule to you?”

“…I get what you’re saying, but-“

“Oh for fucks sake.”

“Listen! I get it! But I had to be thrown into all these situations in order for me to do anything about them! It’s not like I volunteered! Getting on this ship was not my idea! I’m just a regular guy! I- I’m just a nerd from California! I’m not that special!”

“Well that hurts to hear- you’re ‘not that special’?!”

“Yes! I’m not… Superman, or anything!”

“Do you hear yourself?! Better yet, do you even like yourself?”

“…What a dark question…”

“Well you didn’t answer, so clearly it’s not that weird. You considered it for a second.”

“No, I didn’t. I- I like myself just fine, I just know my place.”

“Your place?!”

“Yes!”

“Your place is memorialized in stone, Grace.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re so pessimistic.”

“I’m not pessimistic. YOU’RE notoriously pessimistic. I’m realistic.”

Simon scoffs. “Realistic, my ass. Your self confidence is so low it’s in hell.”

“My self confidence is fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Simon laughs incredulously. “Okay, so you think you’re a good looking guy, then?”

“Simon.” I deadpan.

“Answer the question.”

“I mean- sure, I- I guess so? I dunno!”

“Out of 10?”

“…I’m not answering that.”

“Why?”

“You’re not gonna like what I say.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve been right about in ten minutes. Try me anyway.”

“…out of ten?”

“Out of ten.”

“…six. And a half.”

“Christ’s sake…”

“You asked!”

“Six?!”

“Yeah! It’s above average!”

“By one point!” Simon throws his head back. “This is ridiculous. You’ve got just about the worst self image I’ve ever seen.”

“So being realistic based on comparative data of the entire population means I have no confidence?”

“Stop saying realism. It’s not realism, it’s borderline nihilism. Looks aside, you single-handedly saved two planets, and you’re sitting here telling me it’s no big deal.”

“I. Never. Said that.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say ‘I saved the world.’ Say it.”

“I’m not playing this game with you, you’re not my therapist.”

“Ohoh but it looks like you need one. So say it.”

“No!”

“Gracie…”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?!”

“Because it concerns me that you’re so dismissive of yourself.”

“It’s not that big of a- woOAH-!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Simon lifts me up by my armpits, and tosses me backward onto the bed. He holds me in place with a metal hand on my chest.

I wheeze, looking up at him.

“What the heck are you doing?!”

“I’m giving you, Ryland Grace, one more chance to prove to me that you understand your worth, and the grandiosity of your achievements.” Simon crawls into the bed beside me, his voice dropping low, almost threatening.

“Oh or what, you’re gonna hurt me?” I scoff.

“Worse.” Simon purrs.

“What’s that me-hehahAhah- w-wahahait a second Simon-!” Simon drags a hand from my hip, slowly up the side of my body.

“None of those words are the ones I’m asking you to say.”

“S-stohOHOP this ihihisn’t f-fair-! I dohohon’t have a shirt on-!”

“I told you that shirt didn’t need to be washed. Your bad.” Simon taunts, digging into my ribs hard.

“AAAAAAAHAHAHAHA-! OW OW OW OHOHOW!!”

“You always say ‘ow’ when I tickle you, but you never actually fight me or tell me to stop. Hm, what a concept.”

“SHUHUHUT UP, YOU’RE SUXH A BULLY.”

“Yeah, I’m the worst.” He drags his nails up to my stomach, shocking my system with a sharp pinch to the abdominal muscle.

“AaAAAAH-! SIHIHIMON!”

“That is my name, Angel, yes.”

“G-GEHEHET OHOHOFF-! HA-HAHAHAHA-!!”

“Are you gonna tell the audience that you saved two planets nearly single-handedly?”

“UUURREGH, NOHOHO-!”

“The. I’m not moving.” Simon shrugs. “And just for being stubborn, you’ve gotta tell me that you think you’re at least a 9.”

“YOUHUHU’RE INSANE.”

“Probably.” Simon lifts his hands up to my collarbones, drilling his thumbs in just below the bone.

I scrunch my shoulders up, making some sort of unusual sound - sort of like a strangled duck’s quack - and kick my hips, tugging at Simon’s wrists weakly.

“Get the fuck outta the way.” He hisses, gathering my wrists in his prosthetic hand, and yanking them over my head, anchoring them like a steel bolt to the mattress behind me.

“NOHOHO-! NONONONO SIHIHIMON.”

“I, Ryland Grace…” he starts, using his free hand to skitter into my armpit, now that there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

“A-AHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!” I give up protesting, and just start screaming instead.

“Am the savior of Earth, and of Erid…”

He switches quickly to my thigh, squeezing firmly, and repeatedly, just above the knee about an inch or two.

…I never knew that was somewhere a person could be ticklish…

“AAAHAHAHAHA AH-! AH-! HOHOLY SHIT SIMON STOHOHOP-! OHOH MY GOD-!! BREHEHEAK! BREAK!!” I shout, voice high, frantic, confused, and desperate.

Simon retracts his hand, staring down at me with wide eyes.

“Did you swear?”

“I- I’m sohohorry-! I didn’t mean to-!” My face drained of color, honestly a little disappointed in myself.

“Oh my god…” Simon chuckles.

“Oh my gosh…” I mutter to myself.

“…Over being squeezed on the leg, The Mr. Professor Ryland Grace actually swore at me?” Simon smiled.

“Not at you, I’d never sweat at you- just- in exclamation- I- I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry- I’m so, so sorry- I didn’t-“

“Grace.”

“I’ve usually got a better filter than that! I dunno what that was! It won’t happen a-mmph-!”

Simon covers my mouth with his hand, and I glare at him.

“Would you hush? It’s just one curse word. You’re a grown man, you’re not gonna get in trouble for swearing. Good god. EuGH-!” Simon retracts his hand, wiping it on his shirt.

“Did you just lick my hand?!”

“It got your hand off my mouth. Mission accomplished.”

“Ohohoh you little bastard.” Simon chuckles. Immedietly he darts his hand back to my thigh, squeezing and pinching as fast as he could.

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHA-! AHAHAHAHA- *snort!* STOOOHIHOP-! AHAHA UUURRRRGH IT FEEHEHELS LIKE YOU’RE ELECTROCUTING ME-!!”

Simon huffs. “Ha! Really? It’s that bad? Bzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzt.” He make a dramatic show of taser sounds, vibrating his fingers into the muscle of my thigh.

“OH MY GOOOHOHOD OKAHAY I’LL SAY YOUR STUPID SCRIPT.”

“And mean it?”

“YEEEEHEHEHES!”

“And promise to stop deflecting every mice thing I say about you?”

“STOOOOHOHOP. YES, OKAY! OKAHAHAY!”

“Fine.”

Simon releases my wrists, and let’s go of my leg. Immedietly I curl up on myself like a bug.

“W-what’s the script again..?”

“I, Ryland Grace…”

“Oh skip the legal formalities, just tell me what to say.”

Simon sighs. “Fine. ‘I saved the world.’”

I’m quiet for a long while.

“My god is it that hard for you to say?!”

“There’s a lot behind that I- I don’t- that’s a loaded phrase!”

“Gracie.”

“Okahahay okay, I… saved the world.”

“Louder.”

“Simon.”

He latches onto my side, leaning down, a few inches from my face.

“Louder.”

“OHOHOKAY! I SAVED RHE WORLD! I- I SAHAHAVED THE WORLD!”

“Good Job. Do you believe it?” He skitters slowly up my ribs.

“I- YEHEHEAHAHAH YES, YES!”

“Good. Say ‘I saved Earth and Erid.” He remains close.

“I- HAHAHA-! I SAVED EARTH A-AND ERID-! AND SOHOHO DID ROCKY!!”

“Mmmm… I’ll take it. But only because it’s provable.”

“OKAHAY, THEN GET AWAHAHAY!” 

“One more… ‘and I looked damn good doing it.’ Go on.” Simon snickers

“WHAHAT?!”

“You heard me loud and clear, commander. C’mon.” Simon digs both hands under my arms.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHA-! OKAY I- I LOOKED GOOD D-DOING IT-!”

Simon slows his hands to a stop.

“Damn right… You’re amazing, Gracie.” I feel my face burn.

Simon smiles. He leans down, closing the tiny space between us, kissing me as I take in a greedy inhale.

For a moment, I’m frozen.

I don’t pull back, I don’t push him away.

If it were anyone else, I would. Instead, I allow my body to relax, meeting Simon with the same energy.

I could feel his sharp teeth sticking me in the lip, but I rather liked the vampire bites they left behind, so I didn’t complain, instead lifted a hand around to the back of Simon’s head, pulling him closer, remaining this way until I feel a hand snake its way up the back of my shoulder, scritching at my neck gently.

“Mmph-! MhmhmhehehaAha- come ohohon-!” I giggle into the kiss until my smile breaks the connections, and I tilt my head down, shoulders scrunched to my ears.

Simon kisses my forehead before releasing me, and pushing up off of me.

“What was that for?!”

“Making me waste a half hour reminding my savior of his worth in the universe.” He wipes the beads of blood from my lip with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Some therapist you are… and don’t call me that.” I sit up slowly.

“Why shouldn’t I? You let me get away with Angel.”

“I tolerate Angel.”

“Bullshit.” He’s right.

“Savior sounds too culty, don’t you think? That and salvation.”

“I’ve never called you ‘my salvation that’s absurd.”

“You did. Twice. Forever ago. Had to shut that down fast.” I chuckle.

“Whatever. Also you and I have very different perspectives on cults.” Simon picks up a shirt from the clean clothes pile beside the bed, and tosses it to me. “Cover up.”

“Cover what up?! There’s nothing left to cover up!” I chuckle, gesturing to my chest with a shrug.

“All of it, put a shirt on.”

“Why?”

“Your hands were freezing on my neck. I’m serious, that anemia is gonna freeze you to death.”

He had a point. It was chilly in the dorm, and my hands were pretty icy too. I slip the black shirt on, one that I’d been letting Simon use for a while.

I look down, and the shoulders and chest were significantly stretched.

“Did you start the laundry yet?”

“No… I dunno where the detergent stuff is.”

“Oh- just use baking soda and some vinegar from the lab. You don’t need much.”

“Ew.”

“What?”

“You want our clothes to smell like vinegar?”

I chuckle. “Oh, n-no, they won’t. Acetic acid and sodium bicarbonate actually work pretty well as chemical deodorizers. They trap and break down bonds in odiferous compounds and eliminate any unpleasant smell.They’re not a perfect substitute for detergent, but in a pinch it works. As long as they’re diluted in a sufficient amount of water, they won’t damage the fabric. Plus natural detergents make the waste water easier to recycle.”

“Huh… it’s crazy how you just know that off the top of your head.”

I open my mouth to say something like “it’s a teacher thing!” Or “ah, it’s just basic chem.” But I think better of it, instead giving Simon a smile.

I'm really confused.

The Hail Mary is not a big ship. It took me less than 20 minutes to explore every room after I first woke up - and that's with having forgotten to walk after not moving a muscle in over four years. Just 20 minutes.

I've been looking for Rocky for over two hours now.

"Rocky?" I call out into the dormitory that I've already checked three times.

I frown with my hands on my hips.

We both have our days when we really need our own space. For the most part, we'll usually respect it and leave the other be as well as we can, but in living quarters this small and with a roommate who can hear through walls, me-time is always more of a we-time. Surprisingly, it hasn't been too bad. We both know what the alternative is like, and I think that's given us enough perspective to not just be tolerant of each other's constant presence, but straight up clingy for it. Even this late in the game. So I'm beginning to feel small-to-medium amounts of disturbed. I might not be able to see through walls, but I've never had trouble finding him before-

"What the-!"

I snap my head around, eyes bouncing from spot to spot. I feel the hairs of my neck stand and the flesh of my arm pimple with goosebumps.

There's nothing there. Nobody there. No Rocky there. Rocky is the only person who could be on the ship. Heh.

"Okay, buddy. If you're trying to mess with me because of what I said, I'm sorry! It's not gonna work!" I call out, trying my best to keep my voice from betraying the unease I feel in my gut. I feel like I'm being watched.

Before his sudden disappearance, Rocky and I had a bit of a discussion over who, in our scenario, would be the horrific monster alien that poses an extinction threat to the other's species, and who would be the chum. We've tallied up the points so far and learned the terrifying histories of each other's evolution and special adaptations. It got more and more heated as we tied in counter with each other over and over. I'd win the balancing on one foot contest, he'd win the 'has five legs and has no need for stupid balance' contest. So on and so forth.

After a few hours of this, my blood was up. I (cockily) suggested performing a live demonstration of a perfect monster for him when we touch down on Erid. I may have said something about getting the entire Eridian race under my squishy and opposable thumb. Starting with Rocky's mother.

So now Rocky's missing. For the first hour, I worried I took it a step too far. Maybe your mom jokes are a line you just don't cross in Eridian culture, and I offended him so badly he took his new EVA suit out through the airlock because of how much space he needed from me. But now, I'm pretty sure he's messing with me. Because I've felt him watching me for a while. I just don't know where from.

It's really quiet on the ship. I've never known Rocky to be light-footed, and it's starting to get unbearable not being able to hear him. I'm about to ask Mary to start singing for me when-

All of the lights suddenly turn off, with Mary's voice piercing through the silent darkness. "Automatic lighting disabled."

Mm no. I hate this. "Uh, no no no. Lights back on, please?"

"Automatic lighting disabled. Manual override required." Her voice is so much louder in the dark.

"Manual-" I huff. "How am I supposed to manually override if I can't see anything?"

"The manual override is located in control-"

"Yes, Mary, I know." My voice wobbles in steadily growing terror. I slowly feel my way across the dormitory before I stop suddenly in the doorway - the long, black corridor in front of me.

Rocky is in the control room. That's how he did all this fudgery with the lights. My heart picks up speed, and my nerves assure me that something (Rocky! Rocky is the only other person on this ship!) will attack if I go up there. Gulp.

I back up a bit from the doorway, turning over my options in my head - which is working in significant overtime. I feel sweaty looking down the corridor, but I refuse to take my eyes off it.

Rocky is currently in the control room, but he switched the lights off like this on purpose. He knows how useless I am in the dark. And he can see through walls, so he knows exactly where I am right now and there would be no purpose in hiding. He's probably on his way to me right now, and I'm defenseless. Unless he's already at the end of the corridor just staring at me.

I squint down the corridor. Do I see his figure at the end of it? Well, whatever I'm seeing, it looks nothing like him. Too big, too wrong.

My thoughts are starting to drift into stupid territory and my mind is playing tricks on me. I try to shake it off, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants and taking deep breaths. I know he's trying to scare me, so it's stupid that it's actually working. Rocky is my best friend. He's not a monster. He'd never really hurt me-

I hear the rapid sound of footsteps charging towards me from the end of the corridor. I scream, scrambling backwards as fast as I can. It's not fast enough. A shrieking invisible thing tackles me and I brace for-

A pillow softens the blow to my head from the ground. Once all my scream putters out, I wheeze from where Rocky is squeezing me tightly.

"Wh-whhhyy.." I gasp pathetically.

"Grace get too cocky. Needed to teach a lesson," Rocky's cheery, friendly voice chirps. It does good for soothing the terror bells still ringing through my head and body. So does the squeezing. "You were sooo scared. Did not know heart can get that fast!" he sings in joy.

"Ugh, whatever! I wasn't that scared," I grunt, trying to wriggle my arms free from the death hug. I can't help the small smile that forms in my relief. "I was more afraid that you were actually mad at me."

He titters at me. "You're lying. You're scared even now. Your body-nerve-system still think I will eat you," he shimmies his carapace onto my stomach, and I grunt and tense at the nuzzling. "Maybe will. Show who is the better monster."

"Ew!" I start to laugh stupidly - the energy built up from all the terror needing to be released somehow. "No, please! At least kill me first. Or start your process over there. Away from me."

My body-nerve-system has taken over and is wiggling uncontrollably, trying to avoid his consistent nuzzling. "Pf- stop it!" I snort.

"Why, question? Thought Grace not scared." He wiggles more emphatically.

"Ah- I'm not!" My knees knock against Rocky's back as my body tries and fails to curl in, my stomach feeling more sensitive the more he moves. "I'm worried your biology is going to take over and unload on accident, thinking it's dinner time. Okay- Rhhoc- hehehe- quuuit it!" I whine, embarrassed about not being able to hold back my giggling. He's doing this on purpose.

He trills a noise of offense. "You are disgusting. That could never happen. Eridians too dignified. Ripping apart prey must always come first." He moves my arms away from my body just enough to tickle my sides and, despite expecting it, I explode.

"AGH- No! hAhahaha!!" I can never really talk when he does this. What I'm trying to say is, no! hey! get off! but unfortunately all I can manage to get out is convulsive giggling. My arms snap in over and over to protect my sides, but they're blocked by his rock hands. I only succeed in bruising myself a little.

"Don't laugh," he says while laughing himself. "encourages hungry-feeling!"

Ugh. I never win this challenge. I hold my breath, clench everything, and put every ounce of willpower I have to try and contain my giggles. Surprisingly - still squirming and with my eyes squeezed shut - I almost manage it! Until Rocky moves further up into my ribs. I whimper and fall back into hysterics.

I try to flop around to deter his hands (too many hands!!! too many hands!!) but my torso can't move at all under his FAT body. My legs are free to kick in and out as much as they want at least, but it doesn't do anything to stop him either. I can't stop it.

I continue to strain, but my head falls back in resignation as I laugh. I regret it immediately. The position turns a desperate intake of breath into the loudest snort ever. Rocky stops then, but I hardly feel relief from it - he only stopped because he's laughing at me so hard that now he can barely breathe.

"G-gett offff..." I gasp through giggles. His laughter is making him shake over my stomach again, and I'm so hypersensitive that I can't stand it. I squirm to no avail.

"♫♪what♫noise♪♫♪~~!!" He dissolves back into his amusement without finishing his sentence. I burst out into full belly laughter again despite the heat in my cheeks. His giggles are so contagious. And his vibrations are still tickling me down to the bones. I think I might die. Atleast I'm taking Rocky down with me.

Mercifully, Rocky climbs off me after a minute. His legs are weakening from laughter and he doesn't want to crush me for real. I curl up the second I'm able to in a way-too-late reaction to preserve my vital organs from tickle torture.

"I see now," he giggles. "Sensitivity is good defense. You become so funny, nothing can eat you. Predators too busy laughing."

"Please be quiet," I groan. I take a steadying breath. "Alright, I admit it. You're scarier out of the two of us. You ticked all the boxes that scare humans the most. Silence, darkness, surprise attacks. You'd definitely be able to take over humanity before I can take over Erid. Your mom would destroy me."

"No," he sighs through his vents, and I frown in confusion. Rocky's not one to reject a win. "Grace scary too. Stealth is part of Eridian nature. Know how to stay silent. Not detectable," he shudders. "You detect anyway. Almost catch me many times with crazy light detectors. Scary."

I smile incredulously. Fascinating! "So, all that just for us to tie again?"

"Grace winning for now, actually. We move ticklish from weakness to strength," I gape at him, but he cuts me off. "Serious about good defense. Funny, funny, funny."

"What- that's not- it's.." I stutter helplessly. "You're ticklish too! You know what, I'm hunting you next time."

"Grace not stealthy. Cannot ever surprise Rocky."

"Humans don't hunt our prey like that anyway. We just keep following them until they get too tired to keep running," I lean in as Rocky shies away. "We get them in their sleep, you know. When they're the most vulnerable. You might hear me coming, but you won't be able to stop me."

"♫♪!" he shakes his carapace like he's snapping himself out of it, then rushes me to start poking my sides and stomach.

"He-hey!!!" I giggle and push at him.

“What, question?” The new human, Simon, is curled up on the floor not that far from the bed. I’m shocked; he’s hardly spoken since we found him around three human weeks ago.

When he’s not sitting and observing us in silence, he hides himself in a small storage room with some blankets Grace practically forced him to take. Grace always checks up on him whether Simon wants it or not. The only useful information we’ve gotten out of him is his name.

Grace is taking it harder than I thought he would. Unfortunately, I think he got his hopes up, finding another human and assuming they would be friends rather quickly. 

I can't blame Simon for not being more open sooner. You can tell the other human has been through a lot. He is missing an arm, covered in scars and mutations, and his heart never seems to settle. 

He hardly sleeps at all. I don’t know how he does it. Days will pass, his eyelids low and his movements sluggish, but he fights through it, and I thought Grace was bad when it came to staying up too much. 

I hear him shift and groan in pain; his stomach growls constantly, but he only takes very little from Grace, whether it be food or pain meds. He all but knocked Grace out when he pulled him toward Armondo to help with his wounds and such.

But over the past week, he’s started making these little visits. He waits for me and Grace to settle ourselves in. I cuddle up with Grace, making him comfortable and ready to sleep. After about an hour, Simon slips into the dormitory, looking to see if Grace has succumbed to his exhaustion. Only then does he come in and lie on the floor by the bed.

This is the only time I’ve seen him sleep for more than an hour at a time, although he always seems to wake before Grace does and then leave for his closet as if nothing happened. I’m not going to complain; I can watch both humans more easily this way. 

Why me and not Grace? I'm not really sure. Logic would dictate that in Simon's situation, choosing between another human and some alien he's never seen before, he should have picked Grace. I have a theory that something in his life has made him adverse to human interaction, so much so that his fear of humans trumps his fear of the unknown alien.

I’ve started leaving blankets and pillows on the floor for him. I know I’m treating him like some sort of animal, but I don’t know what else to do to help. I did offer the other two empty beds, which Grace would certainly not mind, but he prefers the floor. He curls up into a tight ball, tail held close. Close to the bed but not to close, just enough to see over the ledge at me and Grace.

“Why…why do you do that to Grace?” He shifts uncomfortably on the floor. His voice is low and gravelly and has a hint of something like frustration.

“What, question?” Confusion laces my voice as I turn my attention to Grace's sleeping body. I don’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary.

“All the touching. Babying.” He pauses for a moment and glances up at us. “He’s a grown man, and you pet and touch him.” He’s hiding his face behind his wavy hair, though it's as emotionless as ever. 

It's incredibly hard to read him. Grace is so expressive; he moves his hands while he talks, and his face shows pretty much all his emotions he's feeling in real time. Simons sits still, maybe with a raised brow and always with a frown. His eyes stare deep into you, studying you and your movements. I don’t mind, but I think it makes Grace a little uncomfortable.

“Rocky love Grace. Obvious.” I troll out fondly, rubbing circles into Grace's temples. Grace shifts slightly more into me in his sleep, while Simon stays silent. 

“Love?” he asks me back. It’s small and quiet.

“Rocky love Grace. Give my Grace love and comfort. Attention.” I feel myself get a little flustered, though I mean every word of it. Simon continues to stay silent for a moment, but he moves to sit up.

“I just—is it not weird?” He doesn’t sound upset but more confused. He lets out a faint, exhausted sigh, I'm sure from the constant anxiety and adrenaline flowing through him and the lack of sleep.

“No. What you do for loved one. Human also benefit from touch. Grace love pets. Rocky love taking care of Grace. Show Rocky care…. My Grace.” I coo softly at his sleepy face. “Grace sacrifice much for Rocky. Rocky will give anything if Grace ask.” I’m glad that Grace is out cold for this conversation; he would tease me about becoming all sappy on him.

He goes quiet, rubbing at the opposite side of his torso with his hand. His eyebrows knit together in thought. I decide it's best to try and keep this conversation going since this is the only time he's actually felt like speaking.

“Simon think it weird, question?” I ask, trying to get him talking again. Simon looks up and stares as I take a claw to run through Grace's soft hair.

He quickly looks away. “I don't know.”

“Simon don't know, question?” Simon can be very confusing. I hear his hand squeeze against his side. I'm pretty sure there isn't any serious injury there, at least not one I can hear. 

“I didn't—we don’t really do that…where I'm from.” His permanent frown deepens as he looks back down into his lap. “I didn’t have someone to take care of me like that. I didn't have a ‘Rocky’.” 

I feel myself soften at his words. No wonder he's been so hesitant to accept our help. I scoot away from Grace a bit so he can see me over the ledge of the bed better. He glances up, eyes showing he's incredibly worn out.

“Grace is lucky to have you.” His face is blank, but his words are almost pathetic. Personally, I think I'm lucky to have Grace. None of this would be even happening without him.

I think for a moment. I’m assuming there’s a reason the human wanted to ask these questions to begin with. One of the very few full conversations from him is about my affection towards Grace, which is definitely an interesting topic to pick first.

“Simon jealous of Rocky affection for Grace, question?” I ask amusedly. This simple question has gotten the most reaction I've seen out of the second human since he's been aboard this ship. His breath hitches, his heartbeat, although already racing, quickens in his chest, and I can hear the faintest of blood seep into his cheeks. The spined tail curled up around him stiffens and straightens out, the end flicking ever so slightly. 

Very interesting.

He decides not to answer, so I ask some more questions. “This reason Simon stare at Rocky Grace, question? Watch affection, question?” I trill.

He fidgets with his shirt, one of Grace's stupid science pun shirts, and looks away but ultimately shakes his head, though I can tell he's lying. I hum and shift back into Grace's body. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I can practically hear Simon thinking. His hand moves up to feel where his other arm was, rubbing the bandaged end.

“Simon want affection like Grace, question?” I cut through the silence. He's staring into his lap, heart beating out of his chest; he seems more scared than embarrassed.

“Uhm…” he swallows hard. “Uh–can…I-I don’t…” I stop petting Grace and move to stand. I scuttle the ledge and wait for the human to gather his thoughts. He quickly looks up at me, eyes wide, and stutters more. 

“Breathe.” I hum soothingly. He swallows again but takes a shaky inhale; actually, his whole body seems to be shaking. I notice how he's curled in on himself, shoulders hunched, and he brings his chin to his chest.

“I don't know.” It comes out as if he's disappointed with himself that he couldn't quite ask for what he wanted. He frowns more, but his eyebrows are turned down in worry.

Again he sits in silence, thinking. I decided I'll be the one to save him from his own thoughts. Watching the push and pull on his brain, although amusing, makes me feel sorry for him.

“What if Rock want to give Simon affection and pet, question? Would Simon allow Rocky to show it care for Simon, question?” It's not him asking; it's me asking. I think that should help this whole dilemma he's having. He seems to perk up ever so slightly at the prospect. 

“You care?” He sounds genuinely baffled by this thought. I kind of thought saying the words would make him relax, be happy even but he once again seems to brace himself for my answer. Like I was lying about it and was about to rip his hope right back out of his hands. Sure, we haven't interacted much, but that's more on him than on us. We've tried talking and making The Hail Mary as accommodating as possible, feeding him, and even bathing him when he first arrived soaked in what Grace said was human blood.

He just truly doesn't seem to trust us.

“Of course Rocky care.” His head lifts slightly as he glances in my direction. “Rocky know Simon go through a lot even if Rocky not know the details. Understand why Simon is the way Simon is. Different. Not bad. Confused and hurt. Understand why Simon want affection.” He shifts uncomfortably. The words that were meant to be comforting were clearly making him more tense.

“Can Rocky fix, question?” He takes a moment, rubbing at his own stomach. I’ve seen signs of touch starvation in Grace before too. This is why I made the tighter suit, specifically to help with this situation. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t also for my benefit and love for Grace as well.

He nods ever so slightly, like he's unsure himself if he's ready for this. I can't lie, his attempt at asking is and was adorable, but I keep that to myself. It’s refreshing to see something other than a scared animal fighting for its life. Something more human.

I climb off the bed and walk up to him. I stop as he freezes and backs up slightly. 

“Rocky Simon go to other room. Let Grace sleep. Okay, question?” Although he doesn't smile at me, his face seems to relax back to the same stoic look. 

We walk out together, the silence drowned out by his rapid heartbeat. There’s a pile of blankets and pillows we use when Grace and I watch movies together, and I let him take a seat. 

“Where Simon want pet, question?” He's been so touch-adverse; I'm not really sure how to approach him without scaring him off, and I know he is particularly sensitive about the mutations around his body. 

“Huh?” He's currently curled up on himself, hugging his legs up to his chest, his head off to the side. He seems shocked I even gave him the choice.

“Where Rocky start, question.” I gently ask. A small blush starts to creep up his neck.

“I-I don’t—I…” he shifts uncomfortably as his heartrate picks up again. 

“Can Rocky try, question?” His eyes finally find me, and he gives a small reluctant nod. 

I slowly approach, and although he does flinch, he doesn't move away. I take two claws and rest them on his knees. I feel the skin twitch under my touch.

“Simon straighten legs.” He hesitates. "Is okay." I wait patiently. Eventually he slowly uncurls. Slowly, he unwraps his arm from his knees and straightens them on either side of me. I settle myself between his legs, resting on his pelvis. He freezes at the pressure, his arm raised like he doesn't know what to do with it. Heart beating out of his chest, I decided to hold still, just letting him process that I'm here. 

“Okay, question?” He nods, but his breathing has picked up. He looks terrified, shaking. His arm and legs are the only places with few to no mutations, so I decide to start there.

I push up the fabric of the shorts he's wearing, giving me more access to his thighs. I used my claws to lightly trace down his legs on either side of me, and I feel goosebumps take over his skin. Slowly, I pet up and down, circling his muscles like a massage. He sinks slightly into the touch but his eyes are wide and tracking my movements, like he's ready to pounce at any sign of danger. His arm lowers to his side, and I feel him lightly grab at one of my legs. 

I let out a happy trill at the progress I've made with him tonight. His face relaxes, his eyebrows finally softening. He lets his eyes slowly fall closed, and he lets out a soft sigh. I can't stop the light giggles that come from me, and he quickly flicks his eyes back open, looking embarrassed.

“What?” He starts to frown at my reaction, which only makes me giggle more. 

“Nothing. Simon just cute. Simon finally relax.” I hear a blush rush to his face, and he looks away, staring at nothing.

We sit in silence for 10 minutes before I feel the hand on my leg squeeze a few times softly. I stop my movements, worried I've gone too long and too far but I feel him sag instead.

“Don’t stop…” The words leave him so quietly I almost miss them. Simon's face immediately looks horrified, like the sentence escaped without permission. He tightly presses his lips together and frowns. He looks away for a moment and finally mutters, “...more please.” Happiness washes over me as he finally requests something for himself, even if it was small.

“Of course," I hum in acknowledgment. I remove my claws from his legs and carefully place a claw on his stomach but don't move it. He glances down at the touch, eyebrows furrowed together. 

After getting no pushback, I slowly lift his shirt, exposing his injured flesh. I push it up to under his arm and get a clear look at the gills hiding underneath. It was hard to hear them with Grace's tight shirt over top, holding them all but closed against his skin, but now they sit open. 

He's still, very still. I didn't know humans could be so still. It's then I realize he's holding his breath, and the hand on my arm grips tighter as if he's bracing for pain. I lower the claw to his stomach, opening it out flat and then slowly rub in a circle.

He jumps rather violently, and a small squeak comes from him. I quickly pull my claw away but notice the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

“Simon okay, question? Hurt, question?” I ask while placing my claw back down but once again holding it still. He flinches at the touch again and squirms slightly. 

“N-no. I'm okay.” I take a second claw, placing it on the other side of his tummy, and start scratching, and his reaction is immediate.

“Ah-wahait—!” He slaps his hand over his mouth, and I probably should stop because he did ask to wait, but I'm curious about how he's going to react. He squirms from side to side, and his legs kick out next to me with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Simon ticklish, question?” Amusement laces my voice. He shakes his head feverishly, his hand holding in as much laughter as it can. I go back to rubbing softly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“Hmhmhm!” Little hums start coming from him; I see his arm straining to stay by his mouth and not shoot down. Puffs of air flutter from his vents as his laughter strains in his chest.

The one thing I really take notice of is his ear. Well maybe not really an ear anymore; rather, his little fin, where his ear should be, finally stops drooping and unfolds up. It’s crazy; I thought the downward swoop of the fin was just how it looked, that it didn’t or couldn’t move but seeing it up and flared out in giddiness makes me all the more happy myself.

“Simon lie.” Trills come from me as he just shakes his head more. His eyes peek open at me. “Rocky help Simon and Simon lie. Ungrateful.” I joke as I go back to scratching, and he lets out a little squeal. He’s very adorable when he’s not trying to kill you or figure out if you’ll kill him. 

Finally, his hand shoots down, grabbing at mine. He’s biting his lip, unusually pointy teeth sticking out the corners. A goofy smile spreads across his face; he’s desperately trying to stop it.

“R-Rohocky!” Giggles finally spill from his lips. They're low and stifled, but they're there. He almost sounds like he’s in pain, like he’s not sure he’s allowed or should be laughing, trying to keep it all in.

And that’s when I hear it.

A soft thudding from behind him. His tail is wagging against the blankets. 

Oh that’s adorable.

“Simon like tickles, question?” I coo teasingly at him and still my movements. “Simon like tummy rub, question?”

“Wha—noho.” What a little liar. He looks at me with a flustered but confused expression, forcing a frown back on his face. ”You do that to Grace too," he grumbles.

I pause. "Simon notice, question?” I tease him since he gave himself away and I hear a cringed expression take over his features, clearly regretting what he said.

“Simon tail move.” My carapace shifts closer to his middle as I feel the vibrations from the wagging.

“Huh?” And I stay silent, letting the soft thumping of his tail tell us both his real feelings about the situation. And just like that, it stops moving. He suddenly hides his face in his elbow and leans onto his back against the pillows, trying to roll over but failing with me on top. 

“I…I didn’t know it did that.” Simon is making me think that my idea that Grace is just an endearing person is wrong and that it might just be a trait of the human race as a whole.

“Grace like tickles also. Simon not need to be embarrass about tickles.” I try to reassure him, but he just shakes his head like he can’t accept that information.

“Simon want Rocky to stop, question?” He just stays silent. I hear his blood pooling in his face. Although Grace also likes to hide when embarrassed, he never just shuts down from it. Grace is momentarily flustered, while Simon seems to be unable to stand it. Being vulnerable appears to be rather difficult for him and I guess admitting you like or want something is the hardest thing Simon can do.

I find him very amusing. Deliberately ignoring Grace and me when we have tried to speak to him. Trying to put up this stone-cold act while wanting affection this whole time. I assume he did it in an 'If they're scared of me, they won’t hurt me’ type of way, but to fold when the two creatures you're stuck with end up being cuddle bugs and you start yearning for it while observing them is rather funny but also sad.

I understand why he probably finally broke. Grace and I are so touchy. For Simon, who admits that he isn’t used to affection, the thing he wanted so bad probably seemed so easily tangible. The affection he wants is right there, all the time, just between me and Grace.

I remove my claws, and he just continues to lie there, hiding his very obviously blushing face and feelings. “This is stupid, I’m stupid." he mumbles into his arm.

“Why, question?” I felt like it was going so well, too. I'm not sure what flipped, maybe some confusing human reason. He decides to not answer me.

I take a digit and softly place it into his belly button. I scratch lightly at the skin as he lets out a startled squeal. 

“EEEAHAhahahaAH—!” Shockingly he still continues to say nothing, preferring to laugh his head off instead. His hand shoots down and haphazardly feels for my claw. 

“Simon must use words. Rocky cannot understand.” I push in a little more. I see him try to curl back up to a sitting position, but the pillows in the curve of his back and, I think, the fact that he’s missing an arm make him flop back down, twisting and turning.

I see his tail start to sway again, and I snicker. What a poor human. To have the emotions you find embarrassing on display because of a tail you did not ask for is tragic in an adorable way.

I push an arm under his lower back, pulling it back toward myself and forcing his tummy up. He flails at the feeling as I carefully dig into his lower back and scratch at the spines there.

“NAHAhahahe R-RohoHAHAHA—!!” I hear him try and get words out.

“Why Simon say Simon stupid, question?” His body gets stuck between arching away from the claws attacking his stomach and the one scribbling around his back.

“R-ROHOhocky *snrk* pft-hehehaHAHAH—!” His mouth tries to clamp shut, sputtering over his laughter, as his tail picks up speed.

“Very good Simon. Use words. What Simon want, question?” I tease him as I pull my claw out of the little hole. I instead trace circles around it, the muscles on his stomach twitching and tensing. I slow the claw on his back and softly rub there, soothing the skin, then take another and dig into the pudge along his tummy. He's less lean than Grace is and I think I prefer it that way; he's more squishy. Very cute that way.

His hand flies back up to his mouth, muffling his cute noises. My claw migrates to his hip and I place the other on the opposite side. I massage into the divot in his torso, feeling the bone. He bucks up with a screeching noise, his hand abandoning his face once again, desperate and clawing at me. He seems so ticklish everywhere.

“RohoHOCKHEHE—!! I-I’m gohoing tohoho wahahake GrahACE UP—ACKAHAH—!!!” He says this instead of just asking me to slow down. He is excellent at dodging the questions I keep asking.

“Simon better be quiet then. So loud.” I tease him, and he tosses his head back and cackles, pulling a deeper blush from him. Grace is fine; he can sleep pretty soundly, and I think I’m partly to blame. My constant fidgeting and tinkering with things as he sleeps, I think, has caused him to get used to sleeping through noise and after a week of sneaking into the dormitory when Grace is specifically sleeping, I know Simon is aware of this too. He's just making excuses at this point.

I rub slow, agonizing circles into his flesh as his head shakes from side to side, his curly hair a mess and his headband askew. He looks happy and giddy, something so different than he's looked his entire time here. I feel the urge to pull more sounds from him to make up for the past few months.

I move my claws upward, pinching along his sides. Each pinch pulls a little squeak from him and his laughter seems to get stronger the higher I move up. I finally reach right below the start of his vents and stay in the spot, digging in.

I notice his vents have closed themselves, which I find fascinating. His arm has pressed itself tightly against his side, trying to block my claw while his body twists to the right, trying to run from the side he can’t protect.

“NAHAHAT THEHEHERE *SNRK* —IHIHEHEHAHA—!!” His breathing starts to sound short and strained.

“Simon can ask Rocky to stop. Rocky will stop when asked.” I slow my movements to light squeezings on the lower bones of his ribs.

Although his face is beat red with a wide smile and small tears in his eyes, he somehow looks worried and surprised.

“Yohohou wihihill?” His voice is so high compared to normal, squeaky with laughter. The genuine shock in the way he asks makes me upset in an annoying way that eats at me. 

I let out a frustrated hum, not specifically at him per se but the way he’s been programmed to think.

“Of course Rocky stop if Simon want tickles to stop. Simon just ask.” I dig in a little bit, making him flail in my hold. “Simon ask for anything. Rocky will try to give.” Trying to show that, yes, bodily autonomy is something he possesses and that, yes, he can ask for anything if he so pleases.

He sits there giggling to himself and I can tell he’s fighting with himself and it's adorable. To stop the affection he craves so much or fall deeper into it. 

“Cahahan i-it juhust be a breheheak?” The question comes out in huffs. “Cahan you keep going a-after?” Joy floods through me at the question, and I feel a rush of warmth for him. Finally, acknowledging he wants more.

“Yes. Simon breathe." Happy trills come from me and I let my claws go still, just resting against his skin. I feel the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. He sounds a little wheezy and his breathing is uneven. He eases his arm and rests his hand on his chest, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Simon. Use vents to breath. Easier and better. More air intake.” He looks at me with a dumb look and I point to his vents. 

“O-oh. My gills. Okay.” The vents flutter open as he relaxes more. I hear as the air is sucked in and his breathing almost immediately seems to catch back up with him. His body melts onto the blankets and pillows, and he rests his eyes closed. 

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes when he speaks up. “You can um…start again—If you want to—AH!” I take the opportunity to grab his hand in mine and pull it up over his head. Before I get to even respond, he's grinning and squirming around, tail wagging behind us. I can't stop the amused hums that come from me.

I wiggle a claw over his underarms, slowly inching it closer, relishing in the giggles that start to spill from him. His eyes track me as I pull back slightly.

“Rohocky stohop.” I giggle and shoot my hand down to his skin and stop right before I touch. He squeaks and jerks hard but groans in annoyance. I once again pull back and slowly descend onto his skin, pulling more soft giggles from him.

I snake another arm to the other side of his body while he's distracted by my other claw and dig into the underarm he can't protect, making his legs kick out and what's left of his arm flail. 

“ROHOhocky?! I-It tihiHICKLES!” I scratch at his other underarm and feel him strain against my hold, his pointy teeth showing again.

“Yes. Is point.” As I slow my movements. I decide to test my luck and gently start making my way down his body. I feel him tense as I reach the top gills along his sides. I glide a digit along the seam and he lets out a shrill screech. I open my claws on either side and hold them flat against all three vents on either side and give the whole area a few squeezes. 

“NAHOHOHO *SNRK* WAITWAITWAHAHAIT AH-ROHOCKY—EEEAHAHAH—!!!” I let myself squeeze a few more times as he kicks and squeals. I finally let go while climbing off of him and he curls up on his side. 

Tears stain his cheeks and his face is impossibly red. I run my claws gently over his back and head soothingly, feeling his breath. I try to flatten out his hair, brushing it out of his face. 

I hear a low rumble come from him. The sound makes me freeze. Simon immediately notices and his eyes open. 

“What?” It's like he doesn't notice it. It's soft and content. It tells me he's happy. 

“Simon purr.” I excitedly trill.

His eyes go wide, then immediately squeeze shut in embarrassment. It's not the same purring Grace does in his sleep; "snoring" is what Grace called it. This comes from Simons chest, quiet and soft but there. I coo softly at the sound and how soft his features look now. He peeks open his eyes and stares at me, blood in his cheeks, as I wipe at his leaky face. After a few moments he sounds like he can breath again and I pull him up. 

“Simon Rocky go back to Grace. Let Simon sleep. Rocky know Simon tiered.” He nods, still laughing softly. He lifts himself up on shaky legs and stumbles back toward the dormitory.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

The next day Grace is explaining something about human culture to me. He's up at a whiteboard scribbling away as he rambles. 

I heard Simon wake a few minutes ago. Even though I tried to get him to stay with me and Grace until Grace woke up, he ultimately wanted to go back to the closet. I hear him as he creeps out and towards our direction; I assume to observe us some more. I tune back into Grace's voice; it's excited and energetic. I can tell he misses being a teacher. 

I'm pleasantly surprised when Simon plops down right next to me. I inch away on instinct, but he grabs a leg and pulls it into his lap. He starts trailing his fingers over the length of my arm, up and down.

Grace has gone quiet, staring with his mouth open in shock and awe. Simon stares back, getting noticeably more uncomfortable with the sudden attention on him. I make a short hum sound, snapping Grace out of his trance and he just looks over to me in bewilderment. I flick a claw, signaling him to keep teaching like nothing happened before he scares Simon off. He clears his throat and stutters over his first few words but turns back around to the board and continues his ramblings, a rather large smile growing on his face.

‘I-is this okay?” Simon whispers. I feel his hand tug at my closed claw and I open it for him. 

“Yes. Is nice.” I feel him press his thumb into what would be my palm, rubbing in soft circles. He's shockingly gentle, even after all the wrestling we did the previous night. I worried he felt the need to ‘return the favor,’ and the petting is what this is about but I decided to stay quiet and not ruin the moment. 

I see him tune into Grace's lesson, absentmindedly petting back up the length of my leg.

We haven’t known each other long. Only a few months have passed since we scooped his soggy, blood-covered butt out of space, and we’re still getting used to each other's constant company.

“Oh—uh yes. Sorry.” I watch as his hand drops to his lap as he refocuses on the screen of the little laptop. Only moments later I see him try and rub at his side again. I can tell he’s trying to be silent after alerting me to his itching.

“Okay. What's wrong?” I sigh with a grin. He looks up at me again but continues his scratching.

“Nothin’. Just itchy.” His eyebrows furrow together as he moves his hand to the other side of his torso and starts scratching more.

“Very itchy, statement.” Rocky adds from across the ship. “Annoying.” Simon rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Yeah…you’ve been doing that for minutes on end. Clearly it’s not ‘nothin’.” I turn my body to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s my gills. They just itch. I don’t know," he mumbles as he pulls his hand away but then starts moving his elbow back and forth against his side. I stifle a laugh at the shimmying motion he makes, and he flicks his eyes to glare at me.

“Sorry, sorry!” I hold my hands up in defense. A frown makes its way to his face as he goes back to using his nails. 

“It just won’t stop.” He grimaces while shifting uncomfortably, rubbing his back against the pillows under him. Although he’s never let me touch his gills, I do know they wrap around his back.

“Doooo you want me to take a look~?” I know my voice comes out eager, too eager, and he frowns in my direction again. Sue me, the man’s got gills. What scientist wouldn’t want to have a little look? 

I’ve asked before and have gotten hard “no”s in response, but I haven’t given up yet! I can help but be curious about how he ended up like this.

“Is good idea. Help Simon make less itch noise.” Rocky’s voice has a hint of annoyance to it as Simon just huffs again. They both have become almost like bickering siblings over time. Although a little bumpy at the start, Simon and Rocky's dynamic has become very entertaining.

A giant smile grows on my face as I do my best at giving another grown man puppy eyes. He frowns more, staring, but keeps shifting side to side against the pillows. Shame be damned, I even clasp my hands together like I’m praying and bat my eyelashes at him. 

“God, fine. Stop. This is sad to watch.” He relents, grumbling with a sigh.

“Yesss!” I quickly get up and reach a hand out to Simon to pull him up and towards the lab. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I, of course, put on gloves and sterilize everything. I have a little cart full of supplies I may need placed right next to me; I can’t be too prepared. I’ve been waiting to get a proper look at Simon’s mutations the moment he got on this ship, and it’s finally happening! The man won’t let me touch him in general, so this moment is great progress!

I glance up at him, and although he doesn’t express much emotion in his face, I can tell he’s nervous. His shoulders are tight and turned inwards, which makes him look small while the end of his tail flicks nervously.

We’ve stationed ourselves on the table under Armondo, and Simon is perched on the edge, absentmindedly kicking his feet.

“Relax. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do before I do it.” I try to give a reassuring smile, but my excitement overshadows it. I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arm up and out.

"Okay," he breathes out. “I just don’t like people dissecting me.” Well, most people wouldn’t.

“I’m not gonna dissect you, I promise.” I reassure myself as I pull up the tee and gasp immediately.

“Ew.”

“Ew?” He repeats from behind his shirt.

“Ew but fascinating," I smile.

“Gee, thanks, Grace. That's really helping with my body image.” An amused chuckle leaves my lips at his comment.

Long strands of something that looks like mucus stick to his shirt, connecting to his gills. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice wavers a bit as he shifts on the table.

“Your…slimy?” 

“Slimy?” 

“Like sticky, I guess.” I pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head, careful not to get any more of the foreign substance on the rest of his body.

He looks down at himself and makes a face at the goo. 

“What is that shit?” He wastes no time reaching down to his opposite side and presses a finger into it and pulls away. It looks thick and coagulated and has a slight green hue to it. “Nasty.” 

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling your itching and rubbing probably made it come out.” I grasp his wrist and pull the mucus-covered finger closer to me. 

He suddenly shoots his finger in my face, and I jump back. “Ew dohon’t you dare!” I lean away from his finger as a smirk makes its way to his features.

“What? Just helping the scientist get a better view is all.” Evil snickers leave him as I bat his hand away. It's nice to see him be a bit playful.

“I don’t need your help, thank you.” I hold a hand out, and he gently places it into mine. I grab a towel to wipe off the gunk for him as he hums a thank you.

“Okay, I'm gonna touch them, alright?” Simon nods. The motion is small, almost reluctant. I move my hands towards his side and immediately notice how tense he is. Every muscle is tensed, like he's bracing for something painful.

"Hey," his eyes flick to mine. “You can tell me to stop.”

He stares at me for a second and then nods again. I don't think he fully believes me and that realization hurts more than I expect.

My fingers hover near the nearest gill. Up close, they're stranger than I expect. So thin. Delicate. Way more delicate than the rest of Simon. Just as I'm about to touch, they close. I pull my fingertips back, and they open again. Once again, I try to reach in, but it closes before I get the chance.

“Uh, Si? Could you stop doing that?” I pull back as they open again.

“I-I can’t help it.” He squirms. “It’s just happening.” 

I hum in thought for a moment. “Okay…try to cover your eyes.” 

“What?” He looks at me confused, and I can tell he’s getting anxious again. I know this is a big ask for him; he’s quite vulnerable right now, and asking, ‘Hey, could you also make it so you can’t see me, either?’ is going to be hard for him.

“Simon, you can trust me. I’ll stop when you say so, okay?” His eyes squint at me, like he can't quite tell if I'm lying.

“Okay.” And he hesitantly reaches his hand up to cover his eyes. I glance down and see his body has instinctively closed his gills once more. He’s clearly bracing himself for whatever I’m about to do, but I stay quiet and still. Slowly I see them flutter open again as he relaxes and I reach down to hook a finger underneath the lowest gill on the side without an arm, pulling it open slightly.

I flinch as an honest-to-god screech rips itself from Simon's mouth, but I keep my finger latched on. I hold as still as possible, slowly glancing up to Simon’s face. He looks just as shocked as I am but with a smile plastered across his face.

"Uhhh, Simo—“

“Second human okay, question?” I hear Rocky frantically ask while scuttling down the hull. See, Rocky does care as much as he says he doesn’t.

Before I can ask or respond, soft, quiet giggles start spilling from Simon’s lips. His hand is firmly latched on my own but not moving or pushing, just holding it still. His other gills tighten, and I feel the pressure as the one I’m touching tries to do the same.

Rocky has made it to us and has climbed next to Simon, on the side I’m currently touching. He clicks and taps his leg.

“Simon ticklish, question?” 

Oh. Ohhhh.

My finger twitches, and he lets out a squeak with more laughter. I realize this is the first time I've seen a smile this big on him. It completely changes his face. Usually Simon looks worn out. Guarded. It's like he's waiting constantly for something bad to happen. Now he's laughing so hard he can't hide it. The sight sends a weird flutter through my stomach. I decide that's probably just relief.

“GRAHACE! I-I dohon’t knohow AH—WHAHAhat tohoho dohoho!” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head rapidly.

“Um, just try and hold still so I can at least get a look inside.” A bewildered smile grows on my face, and I grab a little flashlight and hold it up close to the opening.

“Oh gosh. Simon…” It looks extremely gunked up in there. 

“Very bad.” Rocky leans close, clicking more to get a better look. “Why leaking, question?”

“WHAHAhahats wrohohong?” His body starts to twist and pull itself away from me. 

I remove my finger, leaning away as my mind races.

“Do the gills on your neck itch too?” I question as Simon takes in deep breaths. I peel off the dirty gloves and start putting a new pair on.

“Yeah, buhut not as muhuch as these ones.” He gestures to his ribs and sighs. “Why?”

“It is, like, very very clogged and congested in there.” I say while trying to think of theories and remedies at the same time. “How long has the itching been going on?”

He looks away. “Twenty-three days.”

“...You counted?”

"Yes."

“Simon! Why didn’t you say anything!?” I point an accusing finger at him. I really thought he would have trusted something like this with me at the very least.

“It’s my first time with gills; I don’t know what’s considered normal!” He scoffs.

I guess he has a point.

“Do you feel sick, like a head cold or anything?” I reach up and feel his lymph nodes for any swelling. His pulse pitter-patters against my hands as I feel around his flesh, careful to avoid his gills on his neck. I notice how his eyes shut and he shifts his chin up more. 

“Not at all.” He looks back up at me with worry, eyes blinking. He sure doesn’t sound nasally or anything.

“Open your mouth for a sec.” He hesitates but does as he’s told. As much as I want to take a look around the mutated parts, I decided now’s probably not the best time. I hold his tongue gently out of the way with a finger while shining the flashlight at the back of his throat. 

“No redness or swelling, and I don’t see mucus running down the back of your throat either.” Crap, I was really hoping a simple cold would be the problem. At least it would have been an easy fix, but now I don’t know what to do.

“Disgust. That happen to humans, question?” Rocky settles himself next to Simon, a claw resting on his thigh, I'm assuming in comfort.

“Yeah. All that stuff is connected in human bodies, so it was very possible that could have been it…but I don’t think it is. You don’t look sick or sound sick.” I pull my fingers from his mouth with a sigh. I take a few steps back and start to pace in a circle.

I need to think about this from a different angle. Simon isn’t really a human anymore, biologically speaking. What would cause just his gills to get congested? No. He is human. I think that’s the issue.

I feel Simon staring. Not glancing but staring. I've learned the difference. Most people look but Simon studies you. It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle that nobody else can see. Solve you.

He starts to scratch at his sides again, getting the substance on his hand. I walk back over to him and stand still in thought for a moment.

“Stop that.” I swat at him, and he grumbles with a frown. 

“Hm. I have at least a theory and a possible solution.” I take his hand and wipe it off again, scrubbing under his nails.

“Let’s hear it. Not much else we can do.” He looks away and into his lap. 

“I think it’s because you're not actually using your gills.” His eyes quickly meet mine again. 

"Yes, I do? I breathe through them, too, along with my face holes.” I smile a bit.

“No, no. You're not using them as gills. Like in water or, for instance, a blood ocean.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you were in some sort of liquid, the constant filtering would keep your gills clean and free of debris. You don’t have the chance to do that, so it gets all goopy in them. Bodily mucus that normally would build up would wash away, keeping bacterial and fungal growth in check and such. On top of that, dead skin cells and environmental debris could also cause irritation, leading to infection.” I try my best to explain to them.

“But how come I haven’t had any difficulty breathing?” 

“Like you said, you’ve just been only breathing through your face holes instead.” I slip off a glove and press it to his forehead. Yeah, I think he’s warm. I grab a thermometer and hand it to him. 

“Under your tongue, please.” He complies, his eyes crossing as he stares down at the thermometer in his mouth.

He looks ridiculous. Kinda of cute, actually. 

…

Anyway—

“Good theory. Make sense.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at Rocky’s praise, hoping it comes up my expression form my previous thoughts.

I hear a beep and pull it from his mouth. Yep. He’s got a fever. 

“Well… I think it confirms at least some of my theory. You got a fever. I have a feeling your gills are infected.” 

“Bad bad bad.” Rocky anxiously taps his claw against the table, noticeably shifting closer into Simon's side.

“What can we do?” Simon’s voice shakes slightly.

“Well, Armondo will give you the best antibiotics he has, and we’ll try to clean out as much as we can.” I walk over to grab some supplies from a nearby closet and then a cup of lukewarm water.

“How are we gonna do that?” He calls after me with a frown.

I walk back up and show him a container of Q-tips with a sympathetic look. 

He glares down at the supplies, then glances up at me. “I don’t—is there another way?” I see a smile start to fight his way into his lips as he hugs himself.

“I don’t think so, Si.” He scoots away from me. I really don’t want to do this either, even if I find it very scientifically interesting and endearing on his part. I was hoping that when I finally got a good look at his gills, it would be his choice, not something he had to do. 

“Look. I know you know you're very sensitive there. The only way I’ll be able to clean all 12 of your gills out is if you sit still, and we both know you won't," I firmly try to say while sounding soft. “Rocky, I'm going to need your help with this.” 

Simon’s head flings to Rocky. “Wahait, wait! Why don’t we juhust see if the antibiotics work?” He pleads, now shifting away from Rocky too.

“If we don’t clean it out, it will stay infected.” He looks giddy and desperate and nervous at the same time.

“Why can’t we—“ 

“Simon. “If the situation gets worse, I don’t know how or where it could spread through your body. You're a medical phenomenon, and there is only so much I can do with the knowledge we have.” I reach out and pull his head to my chest with a chuckle. “I can’t let you die on me because of an infection.” I can't fathom losing him now just after I found him. Maybe it sounds selfish, but after thinking I was never going to see and touch another human being ever for the rest of my life, I'm desperate to cling to him with everything. He says I saved him, but I really think he saved me too.

I smile despite myself when his fingers curl into my shirt. Such a small thing, barely a tug. But Simon almost never reaches for people first with affection. The fact that he's doing it now makes my chest feel strangely warm. I pretend not to notice the small action. He’d probably let go immediately if I pointed it out.

“I know.” He mumbles into me as I stroke a hand through his hair.

“How Rocky help, question?” Rocky stands up and stretches a little.

"You're going to have to hold him still. He’s gonna squirm a lot.” Simon huffs in response but doesn’t deny it. “Lay back on your side. We’re going to do the one on your left. You won’t be able to fight me as easily.” 

He’s gone silent but does as he’s told. Rocky stands over him, pressing his carapace into his torso below his gills, effectively pinning him. A claw grabs onto Simon's hand to hold it still while his other holds his shoulders. His back is pressed into me; he’s facing away from me.

My eyes wander to his back and tail. Fleshy spikes grow from his spine; they almost look like cartilage, but maybe firmer? And then there's his tail. I've never seen how it actually connects to his body until now. The spikes along his spine follow all the way down his tail until the end. 

His body really is amazing. 

Wait. Not like that.

…Scientifically.

…

Mostly scientifically.

I rip my eyes and now blushing face from his back and notice he’s started squirming already, and I see a grin pull at his features. His body trembles as I continue to prep my area. 

I grab a Q-tip, soak one end in the water, and get ready to start, but then I see Simon has closed his gills again. Right.

“Rocky, can you spare a hand to hold the flashlight? I’m going to need to hold his gills open.” Simon tensed up more at my words. I pass the light to Rocky before looking back at his gills.

“Yes. Right here, question?” 

“Yes, perfect!” But his gills have yet to open again. “I need you to calm down, Simon.” I giggle a little while looking over his side.

“I’m trying!” It comes out frustrated, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

But after a minute they don’t open. After 3 minutes they still haven't opened. We're unfortunately going to have to pry them open. I grab a pair of tweezers that are specifically rounded off at the end. I carefully slip it under the skin's fold, and Simon jerks hard with a squeak. I push it up, opening the flesh, and I’m once again looking at how horrible the buildup is. 

“Okay, I'm starting. Simon just…try your best?” I really don’t know what else to say.

I push the Q-tip in and start wiping across the filaments, careful to not press in hard or damage any tissue.

“EEEAHAHAA—WHAHAHAIT!!!” Simon screeches from below me. His legs are kicking out wildly already, shifting underneath Rocky.

“R-RYLAHAHAND—HA-NOHOhohooo *SNRK* EAHAHAHAHA—!!!“

I try to gather as much mucus as I can and scoop it all out at once. I pull out the rather large mass and place it aside, and what do you know? I can see white, pus-like substances mixed with the other goo. I knew it; he does have an infection. 

I grab another Q-tip as Simon is shrieking under me. I can actually see the pinkish red color of his insides now as I swipe across the flesh, gathering the last bits I can see. I think that should be good.

“FUHUHUCK RYLAhahand! EEK—WHAHAIT!!!”

 I pull back, and Simon heaves, going limp, and Rocky eases up a little. 

“Second Grace very loud. Very ticklish, statement.” Rocky comments and gets a groan from Simon in response.

“How was it?” His face is beat red, but I can feel a slight gust of air pushing through the gills I just cleaned. Thank goodness cleaning it out seems to be helping.

“Fucking terrible. What do you think?” he mumbles, and I watch as he shoves his face further into the table. 

"Okay—well, I'm going to start on the next one, okay?” I try and soothe as much as I can as I press into his side again.

“SHIHIHIT! I-IT TIHIhihickles—*snrk* nohohoHOHO—!” His tail started to thump against the table as Rocky scrambled to hold it down and out of the way. I pull away as the claw holding the light falters a little as Rocky struggles to keep Simon down without hurting him. I feel him twist as he rolls onto his back.

“No. Simon stop twisting over.” Rocky scolds while rolling him easily back over and pinning him on his side. 

“Actually, could you roll him on his stomach? I need to get to the parts that wrap around his back.” He trills out an acknowledgment while he starts wrestling with Simon again.

“NOHOHoho nohohot thehere—oof!” Rocky not-so-gently flips him over and sits on his lower back, and I feel air being forced through his gills as Rocky knocks the wind out of him. His tail wiggles wildly toward the end, where Rocky can't reach as his legs desperately kick out. I pull Rocky's claw back over to reposition the flashlight. 

"I'm sorry, bud.” I scrape some more at the filaments and pull the rest of the grunk out, careful to hold the skin open gently. 

I see and feel his body shiver beneath my hand. Goosebumps race across his skin, the reaction immediate. He lets out a squeal and arches his back as I hit a particular sensitive spot. His muscle jump as his tail gives another loud thump against the table.

“EEAHAHAHA AH—OKAYOKAY I-I NEEHEhehed AHA BREHaheak hahahe…hehe…” I chuckle, pulling away. 

I decide to test my luck and gently run a hand over his back. The tension doesn't disappear immediately. At first he lies there breathing hard and I finally feel his shoulders drop a little. His tail stops thrashing about and the muscles under my hand loosen one by one. Like he's realizing that I'm not actively torturing him anymore. Simon lets out a sigh, sinking back into the touch. I avoid the spines running down his back but lightly draw my nails over the skin on either side. 

After a moment I ask, "Ready for round two?”

"No," but he nods yes, relinquishing his hand to Rocky again and bracing himself.

I start the process all over again with the others.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I finish wiping clean his skin, feeling the ridges of his gills along his middle. He's still squirming and giggling slightly, but I can tell he's drained. Rocky climbs off of him and pulls him upward into my arms.

I wrap my arms around him before he can decide otherwise. Simon practically melts. Just enough for me to feel the tension slowly draining out of him. His forehead bumps against my shoulder. For a moment he simply sits there breathing. Safe and exhausted. I run a hand through his hair. Then again and again. Each pass seems to pull another ounce of tension out of him. I see Rocky do the same and rub soft circles into his shoulders, letting out soft hums.

"I'm sorry, Si.” I chuckle but only get a weary sigh in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I'll live…I think.” I feel him snake his arms around my middle, pulling me closer, and I can't help the blush that dusts the tips of my ears. Simon's hair is sticking up everywhere, curls messy and tangled. It would have been funny if it weren't weirdly adorable. 

“Y-you know we still have to do the ones on your neck, right?” He pulls away just enough for him to stare into my face. His eyes are glassy with tears and he's got this shocked and pitiful expression. I guess he forgot he had the other gills. 

“Okay. Let's do those ones tomorrow. How's that sound?” His body relaxes back into me with another sigh. “But you can't back out; they need to be done, Simon." I get just nods in response. I card a hand through his thick hair, hoping it soothes his nerves.

"We're also probably going to have to do this regularly. Like a monthly cleaning type of thing.” He tenses up again. "It's just going to get infected again, but hopefully, if we keep up with it, cleaning regularly should be quicker and easier on you than a ‘deep clean’ like today or tomorrow."  

“Okay.”

“And you have got to tell me if you start itching or hurting at all in the future! I don't want a scare like this again.” He squeezes my middle more and I notice his tail sway softly from side to side.

“I promise, Angel."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

Simon was also very tactile. You weren’t expecting this development, given that he had tried to strangle you when you first rescued him and then avoided you and Grace for three weeks. But now he couldn’t keep his hands off of the two of you. Not like you and Grace minded. You had been missing human affection. 

These two factors combined into an extremely affectionate, but also very attentive friend. He was a bit of an overgrown puppy once you looked past the mutations, the brooding expression, and the xenonite prosthetic arm that Rocky had made for him. 

You shifted slightly against Simon’s chest, trying to keep yourself from falling asleep on him. The movement jolted him out of his daydreaming, and he brought his good hand down to card through your hair. 

He seemed to like it when you lied on him like this. You figured he finds the weighted blanket feeling comforting. You loved to do it because it usually came with him petting you like a cat.

You sighed lightly as he scratched behind your ear. He lingered in that spot—see? Crazy observant. You shivered as his fingers traced down your neck. Shit. That tickled.

You made a soft noise, eyes still closed, as he hit another sensitive spot. You felt him pause, and then continue. His hand migrated back up to your jaw. He scratched gently there. 

Your shoulder started to come up instinctively, your face scrunching up a bit. Your hand tightened its grip on his t-shirt. 

“You okay?” He muttered gruffly. You could hear his voice vibrating inside his chest. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled. 

“Ticklish?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Should I stop?”

You don’t answer that.

He huffs out a knowing laugh.

He continued to scritch his fingers along your neck, smiling when you chuckled quietly. When you turned your head and trapped his hand, he simply switched to the other side. He paused every so often to give you a break, moving his fingers back to your hair. 

His fingers lingered at your hairline as he noticed the goosebumps prickling on your skin every time he traced his fingers there. 

You sighed sleepily.

Simon couldn’t keep it in anymore. “You are stupidly cute,” he mumbled. 

“Hmm?”

“You’re adorable,” he grumbled. “Makes me want to… I don’t fucking know. Squeeze you.”

You blushed. 

“Cuteness aggression,” Grace piped up from across the room. Simon made a grunting noise of agreement.

“How do you deal with cuteness aggression,” Simon said flatly up towards the ceiling. You could imagine the blush on his face. His fingers returned to the spot behind your ear. 

“Tickle them,” Grace replied. You could hear the smirk in his voice and your body tensed. “It’s the best way.”

“Hmm,” Simon hummed.

Simon’s prosthetic hand poked you in the tummy a few times. You curled up, trying to defend yourself. There was a silly smile on your face already. You hid it in Simon’s shirt. 

Grace added, “Although it’s a bit of a positive feedback loop, because they get cuter when you tickle them.”

“I can see that,” Simon murmured, his prosthetic hand crawling up your side. 

You let out a few snorting giggles as the metal fingers scratched under your arm.

“This isn’t helping,” Simon said. “Still too cute.”

“You’re gonna have to tickle them forever then,” Grace teased. 

“Nohoho,” you finally said. Giggles broke through your speech.

Simon stopped, rubbing his hand up and down your side to soothe you. 

“Simon?”

“Mm?”

“Why are you so rough with Grace and so gentle with me?” You asked. You had been thinking about the way Simon tickled Grace—rough and teasy—in comparison to the gentle way he treated you. 

“Grace can take it,” Simon said smugly. You heard Grace splutter in indignation across the room. 

You laugh softly. 

“Why, do you want to be tickled like this?” Simon asked, raising a fist and scrubbing his knuckles across your ribs like a washboard. 

You shriek, curling up again around his hand. “SIHIHIMON!”

Now you know why Grace was always so dramatic when Simon tickled him. It was a strange mix of tickles and pain. But you understood why Grace liked it. 

“Hmm? Do you like this?” Simon prodded, his fingers clawing roughly at your sides and tummy. 

You cursed into Simon’s shirt, finally grabbing his hands to stop him. “Jehehesus, Simon…”