warnings : dangerous amounts of awkward, nerdy ryland? terrible writing, not edited
summary : ryland has a crush on the kindergarten teacher that his class visits once a month
w/c : 4.3k
a/n : the chokehold this man has on me is INSANE
It was the last Friday of the month, Ryland’s favorite day. Once a month, he got to walk his homeroom class ten minutes down the street to the local elementary school. Once a month, his students got to hang out with their kindergarten buddies. Once a month, he got paid to sit around and be with her.
Y/n was the kindergarten teacher he was partnered up with. Last year he had been stuck with Mrs. Wilson. Her classroom always smelled of microwaved fish and sweaty fourth graders. She also had a bad habit of leaving the classroom without telling him, leaving him alone with nearly sixty children. Y/n was very different. Her classroom always smelled of lavender and citrus, and the only time he had ever been alone in her classroom was when she dropped the students off at lunch and went to the restroom.
Ryland was very grateful that he was visiting her classroom and that she wasn’t visiting his. Her room was a stark contrast to his. He had planets hanging from the ceiling, his desk was cluttered and trashed, and things fell down regularly. Here, there were paper lanterns hanging down, but that was all. They were evenly spaced and gave the room a cozy feel, not a trapped in low budget space feel. Everything had a place. Her desk was cleared, at least the top was. He had no clue if the drawers were in the same condition. The classroom was organized from the row of backpacks hanging on the wall to the cabinet filled with toys. It was structured, warm.
However, nice as the classroom was, that was not the best part of this arrangement the two schools set up. Working with Y/n was the highlight of his school year. There was just something about her. Maybe it was the fact that she always had a tupperware filled with baked goods for him when he brought his class to visit. Maybe it was the fact that she always smelled like vanilla and jasmine. And maybe, just maybe, it was the way she taught her students. The way that she could help one student understand a concept using props and hand motions and then turn around and help another by turning it into a game. She had a passion for helping them get from where they were, to where they were going. It was written all over her face.
This was what Ryland thought about as he walked his eighth grade homeroom over to the elementary school. The morning fog was still thick and a slight breeze sent a chill down his spine. The buzzing chatter of his students was making the grey sky seem a little lighter. He loved that they were just as excited as the kindergarteners were.
They made it inside the elementary building and the warmth immediately seeped into his bones, welcoming him like the embrace of an old friend. He navigated his class through the now familiar hallways and stopped outside a door that had been decorated with small laminated ducks, each one bearing the name of a kindergartener in the classroom. He turned to his gaggle of students.
“Remember, go in quietly and sit on the floor near your kid.” He said, making eye contact with the students who loved to go in squealing and hug their kindergarten partner.
“Yes, Mr. Grace,” the class echoed.
Ryland knocked on the door. He suddenly felt nervous. This had become the new normal since the first time Y/n opened the door. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. He wiped one sweaty palm on his jeans and ran the other one, shakily, through his tousled hair. His stomach knotted, he felt like an idiot.
The door opened, and there was Y/n. She was wearing dress pants and an oversized sweater. Her hair was falling naturally. The smell of her perfume was wrapping him up like he just stepped inside after being out in the cold too long, which technically he did. His breath hitched quietly and he hoped she didn’t hear it. He felt the small smile creeping onto his face and there was no point in trying to fight it.
He didn’t get to bask in the feeling as long as he wished to, the overly excited five year olds started babbling behind her. She smiled at him. What kindergarteners?
“Hey,” she said, her voice low, like she was whispering a secret for his ears only.
The small smile broke into a full blown grin. “Hey,” he whispered back. Y/n opened the door fully so Ryland and his class could enter. The two teachers stepped aside while the students entered the space and situated themselves. As he entered the room, his eyes settled on her desk, finding a tupperware sitting on it, a pink sticky note on top with his name on it. He could feel the tips of his ears match the color of the sticky note.
“My kids have been excited all week. We had to make a countdown paper chain on Monday,” She said, beaming up at him.
Ryland let out a small chuckle. “Mine too. They try to play it off and act cool, but they’ve asked me once a week when we’re coming back.” Y/n laughed and both teachers got back to what they were actually supposed to be doing.
The schedule was simple enough. First was penmanship. The eighth graders had to help the kinders write a three sentence story. Y/n stood in front of the whiteboard, pink marker in hand.
“So if Mr. Grace is my partner,” She said, looking at the group of fifty or so kids crammed into the room. “Then he and I are going to come up with the story together! It can be about anything!” She looked over at him. “For example, I might write, ‘Mr. Grace is a good teacher.’” She wrote the sentence on the board. Her lettering was smooth and elegant, only in the way that teachers can have. She glanced over at Ryland expectantly.
“And I might want her to write, ‘Miss Y/n is a great teacher.’” He hoped that it wasn’t obvious that he was trying to elevate her. The smile and roll of her eyes told him he was unsuccessful. She wrote it anyway. He moved to stand next to her.
“After that, we might say, ‘They make a great team.’” She said, and the smile she gave him went right to his stomach. He had to snap his eyes anywhere else or he feared he would forget himself and make a really dumb move in front of the students. He felt his neck heat up and he was sure he was beet red. Y/n noticed. Her gaze drifted back to the students. “Are there any questions?” She asked.
A hand shot up instantly. Y/n nodded for the student to ask his question. “But, Miss Y/n! Our papers have a big square on top of our writing lines!” Y/n smiled at the urgency of the question.
“They do! Good job, Jeffrey, I almost forgot! At the top of your paper you have a blank space. You and your buddy are going to color a picture that goes with your story.”
Another hand went up. “Miss Y/n, you didn’t draw a picture.”
The middle schoolers chuckled, noticing the way their teacher was avoiding looking at Miss Y/n. One of them raised their hand. “Yeah, Mr. Grace, you have to help Miss Y/n color a picture of the two of you!”
He wanted to die. He hated how bad he was at being subtle. He was rescued when Y/n let out a laugh. “You guys are right. Tell you what, while you guys write, Mr. Grace and I will draw a picture on the board.”
The students got to work as Ryland uncapped a black marker. He started drawing a stick figure. It was lopsided, and the eyes weren’t evenly spaced out, but Y/n assumed it was his best efforts based on the way his brows knit together and his tongue poked out slightly from between his lips.
He looked over to where Y/n was finishing her drawing. It was very obviously him. From the glasses to the cardigan he was wearing, the dry erase drawing was very evidently Ryland. He was even giving a thumbs up. He glanced back at his drawing. Not terrible. Not great. He picked up the pink marker she had been using earlier. He drew a flower in the stick woman’s hand. He took a step back and admired his work. Y/n did the same.
“We really do make a great team,” she said, turning to look up at him.
His brain short circuited. She didn’t even compliment him. Why was his brain offline? Think of something! Say something! Say anything! She’s looking right at you! Say something! Say something now!
“Like ribosomes and protein synthesis.” Not that! Idiot.
But the panic subsided as Y/n let out a huff of laughter and her body involuntarily leaned into his. It was brief, a slight graze of her shoulder against his. Yet it was all he could focus on. He stilled as it happened, trying to memorize the feeling instantly. He spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out if his arm tingled from the force of impact or if his brain was experiencing a minor chemical imbalance. His internal debate subsided as Y/n instructed the students to turn in their work.
The rest of the morning passed by in a flurry of raised hands and tiny confused sighs as math worksheets were handed out and completed. There was a breath of relief when Y/n announced it was time for recess. He shrugged his cardigan off and onto the chair as he pulled his blazer back on. Y/n led the group down the hall and outside as Ryland manned the end of the line, ensuring no wandering or straggling.
This time, the fresh air felt less inviting, like it was stripping the atmosphere of all the warmth and depth that Y/n’s classroom supplied. It smelled Earthy and sharp. Normally it would be one of his favorite things in the world. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to be inhaling her scent. Her classroom scent, that is, or so he told himself. His inner lament was silenced when a soccer ball went flying into his left foot.
“Mr. Grace!” A chorus of students yelled his name and ran over to him. A tiny boy with a mop of dark curly hair peered up at him through thick eyelashes. His hands were clasped near his chest as he started to speak. “Mr. Grace, will you play with us?”
Ryland felt something profound tug at his heart strings as the boy looked up at him expectantly.
“Sure, but only if we beat these middle schoolers, deal?” He stuck out his hand, the soccer ball now pinned under his foot.
The boy, Miles, shook his hand and giggled out, ‘deal’.
“Kinder versus middle school!” was all Ryland shouted before kicking the ball towards a five year old and running towards the goal, guarded by one of his own students.
Y/n watched from the sidelines as Ryland weaved, not so elegantly, between the students. He was constantly stumbling over his own feet, and his glasses kept sliding down his face. However, Y/n also saw the way he passed the ball to her students every time. The way he would steal the ball from an eighth grader, pass it to a little kid, only to have the ball stolen by a middle schooler again. She noticed the way he fell backwards and landed on his back in order to avoid lightly bumping one of her students. She watched him pause the game to help a girl tie her shoe. He had never looked so attractive. He was squatting down, her yellow shoe resting atop his knee. His glasses hung around his chin and his hair was tousled and sweaty from running. The way he smiled, watching as the girl ran back to the game once her shoe was properly tied again. She noticed the way that the water ran down his hair to his cheek to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Wait, water?
Y/n’s train of thought was cut off by a splash of rain hitting her forehead. Oh great. Before she knew it, five year olds all around her were losing their minds. She pulled her sweater tighter around herself as the rain picked up. Ryland was by her side in an instant, shrugging his blazer off and, awkwardly, draping it over Y/n’s head, an attempt to shield her from the rain. Y/n smiled despite herself as she watched him concentrate. A whistle blew and all the kids quickly got in line as Y/n led them towards the classroom. Ryland, soaked to the bone, stood at the end of the line, waiting for one kindergartener to catch up after he ran back into the playground for his water bottle.
The group was buzzing as they re-entered the classroom. Y/n gave instructions for the kids to hang up their coats and find a seat on the rug. Ryland stood next to Y/n, who was finally pulling the blazer from her head. “You didn’t have to do that,” She whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Yes I did,” he breathed out. Y/n tried to hand him the blazer, but it was quickly draped around her again, this time, over her shoulders. She smiled as he rubbed the fabric up and down her arms. There was a faint smell of clean linen and stale coffee. It was uniquely Ryland, like the scent only existed for him. She had been mostly protected from the rain, and she didn’t really need dried off, but she let him do it.
His glasses had little drops of water on them, sliding down the lens and onto the floor. His hair was completely soaked, dripping down his face steadily onto his clothes, which had been thoroughly drenched. Yet here he was, drying her off. The whole world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them as Ryland pulled the blazer off of her and wrapped his knit sweater around her. The sleeves were too long for her, but she pushed them back slightly, freeing her hands. The soft fabric brushed his arm as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, Y/n waited with baited breath.
“Miss Y/n?” A tiny hand pulled on the sweater and Y/n reluctantly pulled her eyes away from Ryland’s.
Ryland felt his mouth shut quickly, suddenly very aware of where he was. He looked over at his students, who were smirking and looking away. Because that's what he needed, a class of middle schoolers noticing his awkward crush on the nicest woman in the world.
He tried looking anywhere else. The pattern of the floors was suddenly riveting. His gaze snapped back to Y/n as she turned on a movie and told the class to watch quietly and eat their lunches. He turned the lights off and made his way to the back of the classroom, sitting on a tiny table. Y/n sat next to him, tupperware in hand, pink sticky note still on top. She handed it to him wordlessly, the air around them full and comforting. He opened the container as Y/n started eating her lunch next to him.
“Banana bread?” He whispered excitedly. “You didn’t!”
Y/n smiled, and she was overjoyed that the lights were off and he wouldn’t be able to see the way that her cheeks flushed. “Of course I did. You said it was your favorite.” Ryland leaned back in the chair slightly and started eating quietly, eyes trained on the students in front of him.
He let his hand settle on the table beneath him, slowly letting it drift closer to Y/n’s until his hand was ghosting hers. Y/n didn’t look away from the kids as she carefully shifted so her hand was pressed against his, trying to get him to just take a hint already.
He let his fingers delicately trace over her knuckles before hooking his pinky under her hand and flipping it gently so it rested in his. It was slow, and a little clumsy, but it was also warm. Solid.
Ryland could feel the quickening thump of his heart against his chest. His throat was dry and he was suddenly very nervous that his hand was going to start sweating.
The thoughts were subdued when Y/n brushed her thumb over his knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge, every valley. He looked down where they were joined together. A small smile graced his features and he went back to watching the kids.
Lunch was over too soon in his humble opinion. In reality, they had actually gone fifteen minutes over because Y/n didn’t want to let go of Ryland’s hand. Only two more hours before he had to leave, and he tried to push the thought away, like not thinking about it delayed the inevitable. He took his place at the front of the room as Y/n settled her students into their seats.
“Alright you guys! Who’s excited to learn about space?” Every little hand shot into the air.
He uncapped an expo marker and started asking questions. “Who knows what is in the middle of the solar system?” A middle schooler started whispering into her kindergartener’s ear. The five year old jumped up frantically, waving her hand in the air.
“I know! I know!”
“Tell me, Amaya!”
“The sun!”
“Good job! Yes! The Sun is in the middle of our solar system! Everything goes in circles around it.” He drew a sun on the whiteboard. “Alright, Amaya, I need your help now.”
Amaya looked over at Y/n for reassurance. After receiving a nod of approval, Amaya walked to the tall teacher.
“Okay. Amaya, you are the sun. You’re gonna stand right here.” He gave her a high five as she stood where she was told to.
“Who knows what planet is closest to the Sun?”
There was more whispering. Then more voices shouting out ‘I know’ and ‘Me! Me!’.
“What is it, Jack?”
“Mercury!”
“Good job! Come on up!” Ryland added another circle to the board. “Okay, Jack. You're gonna go in a circle around Amaya, and you’re the fastest planet in the solar system! So go! Faster! Faster!” The class erupted into giggles.
“What comes after Mercury?” He didn’t have to wait this time. “Which planet is it, Claire?”
“Uh, Venus?”
“Venus is right!” Claire didn’t wait for permission before walking to the front. “Okay Claire, you have to walk in a circle too, but you’re very slow,” He said, dragging out the last part of the sentence. Claire started marching in slow motion around Jack. Laughter again.
He continued on until he had an entire solar system of kindergarteners running around the space. Y/n watched as he laughed with the kids and inevitably started to ramble about how technically Max, the Earth stand-in, was moving slightly too fast for this example to be realistic. She didn’t realize she was smiling until Ryland glanced over and shot her a grin.
He finally settles them down and returns everyone to their seats. Y/n watched him for a moment longer before remembering the coloring sheets in her hand.
They sat together at her desk once the kids started coloring together. “I don’t think they’ve ever had that much fun during science,” Y/n said, her voice sincere, with a hint of something more. God, Ryland hoped he wasn’t imagining it.
“I don’t know about that,” He said, his gaze flicking quickly to her lips and back up to her eyes. Y/n noticed. Her cheeks heated up and her eyes shifted to the ground, remembering quickly that they were still working.
Ryland wanted to die. He looked up at the ceiling and wished that it would fall on him. He was saved from the awkwardness when a voice called his name.
“Mr. Grace,” A teary eyed Amaya approached him with her coloring page in her grasp. He was moving before he realized it, crouching down so he was eye level with her.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He held his palm out and let her grab it with her small hand. She sniffled and Y/n felt her breath get caught in her throat at the interaction. The way his eyes scanned Amaya for something wrong. The way he subconsciously made her feel seen. The way he knew to hold out his calloused hand. It all caused something to bubble under the surface.
“I messed up my drawing,” she mumbled, showing him the paper. Ryland looked at the page and then back at the small girl.
“Messed up? I don’t see anything wrong!” He said, embellishing his confusion slightly.
“Saturn isn’t supposed to be pink,” She sniffled again and let out a small, sad sigh that made Ryland want to tear up a little.
“Well you know what?” He asked, looking at the girl holding his hand.
“What?”
“I think pink is the best color anyway. I think that Saturn looks better in pink than any other color.”
Amaya cracked a small smile. “Pink is your favorite color?”
Ryland beamed back. “Well, I don’t know, orange is pretty cool, but pink is too.”
Amaya giggled and let go of Ryland’s hand, bouncing back to her seat. He stayed crouched on the ground, watching her go back to her seat for a while longer.
It was at this moment that Y/n subconsciously noticed how strong his shoulders looked through his still damp shirt, which clung to his muscles in all the right places. She shook her head as he stood up, like it would remove the thought from her brain.
“You’re really good with them, you know.” Her voice was quieter. It sent a warm tingle down Ryland’s spine. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly.
Y/n giggled and looked back at the students. He opened his mouth to try again.
“Well, statistically speaking, it’s easier to induce dopamine at that developmental stage.” He noticed the way her lips curved into a smirk and her eyes slightly narrowed in confusion. “Their baseline for excitement is much lower than in adults, so small achievements tend to produce disproportionally strong reactions. So like,” He took a breath, realizing he was still staring at her lips, and moved his eyes to meet hers. “High return on minimal input situation.”
Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “That was a lot of words to say that I was right.” He smiled and pressed his shoulder into hers.
They sat together until Y/n went up to give the next instructions. Her eyes kept wandering over to his frame, sitting in a tiny, blue chair meant for a five year old. The older kids helped their kindergarten partners put their things away and start their reading work.
Y/n started picking up markers that had fallen on the floor. Ryland followed suit. He stopped at Amaya’s seat, noticing how Saturn was bright pink with orange rings around it. He smiled softly and went to pick up the orange marker at the same time that Y/n did. Their fingers brushed, and at first Ryland pulled back, startled by her presence, letting out a quiet gasp.
Y/n let out a small giggle, and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. He rolled his eyes at her laughter, but smiled despite himself. They cleaned up quietly, enjoying the last moments together.
“Alright, kinders! Let’s say bye to our middle schoolers!” Y/n said as the eighth graders lined up with their bags.
“Bye!” The class shouted. The middle schoolers waved and filed out of the room, Ryland hesitated outside the door. Y/n stood in the doorway, wanting to see him as long as she could before closing the door.
He turned from Y/n to his class. “Start walking to the bus, I’ll meet you there. Gotta ask Miss Y/n what grade you guys should get.” The class groaned but started walking anyway.
He turned back to Y/n. “I uh,” what was he doing? This was a terrible idea. “I, well, you,”
Y/n smiled and he completely forgot whatever it was he was trying to spit out. In a moment of foolish bravery, his mouth moved faster than his brain.
“Would you want to go out with me?” He breathed out.
Y/n smiled, looking at the ground, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked back up at him, cheeks flushed. “I’d love to.”
He let out a sigh of relief. There was something about the way she looked at him. The way her eyes flitted down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He forgot himself for a moment. His lips went crashing into hers. It was a little clumsy, and a little rushed, but his lips were soft, and molded nicely with hers.
He pulled away, breathless, eyes a little wild. Y/n leaned against the door, not registering the students behind her talking and coloring.
“I‘ll see you later,” he mumbled as he walked backwards, eyes still trained on Y/n. He stumbled only twice before he turned around and walked towards the school bus waiting for him in the rain.
He was startled as he climbed on board and was greeted with applause.
“Yeah! Get it Mr. Grace!”
“Finally did it!”
“You wanted her so bad!”
“It was like an awkward nerdy soap opera!”
He rolled his eyes but smiled as soon as he sat down. Now he just had to survive the date.
genre: established relationship; husband and wife stuck in space (but they don't know that yet;)
warnings: anxiety, vomiting, bombing, not proofread (lol will be doing so after i get some rest 💤)
word count: 6k
author's note: i'm so sorry for the long overdue update. as i said, i've been quite busy for uni prep and i'll be going soon, in just a few weeks from now. so, with the little time i have left as a free civilian, i'll be doing my best to write, write, write! pls pls PLEASE lmk what you think! im actually not super duper proud of this one but its not the worst thing in the world;) thanks for waiting; phm food is now served. (longer than usual as an apology) lmk what you think!
summary: sol was dying; humanity needed you now more than ever. but you just couldn't ignore the unexplainable chemistry between you and your co-worker. too bad he was already married.
°⋆. ࿔*:･ part three of about time | previous chapter
a beat. and then another. the bashing of a mallet mauling a metal slate until it dents; the pounding of nail into wood.
your head mercilessly tortures you in the middle of a lesson—a regular episode you learned to tolerate over time. but this one was different. had you dismissing class earlier than usual, stopping by the school clinic for an ibuprofen before rushing to the teachers' lounge.
now you're wrapped in somebody's scarf, gazing down the window in the corner. staying away from any source of air as sharp pins puncture your every inch of skin that was exposed to the wind; icy and sensitive but fervidly sweating at the same time.
a few co-workers expressed their concern every now and then, to which you could only weakly hum or return a sickly smile at. it was torture, and it didn't feel like it was going away soon.
ryland finally appears. with both hands full, using his shoulders to push the door open. the smug grin on his face quickly drops and he cautiously sets down what looked like lunch and snacks on the table.
"are you okay?"
you nod your head, which turned out to be a bad idea, making the world spin around right after.
"you're freezing—come here." he takes you into his arms, careful to not make you feel worse than you already were. he was warm compared to your frosty skin. it was like hugging a big heating blanket.
"could it be the astro—"
that was your first presumption. a part of you had a horrible, horrible feeling that it came from it. radiation exposure, perhaps? but then you were supposed to feel hot, not having cold sweats. also, the little things were resistant; it could even protect you from radiation, not cause it.
could it be some alien dust that you weren't aware of, seeping into the air line and giving you this sickness? the thought terrified you more than ever. first ones to come in contact with it and possibly even die because of it. now you'll be the ones observed and experimented on like you did to the dots just days ago.
you tried not to let your mind form conspiracies. you're a scientist for one. you of all people should know to look at the facts than to wander off to assumptions. besides, you've been feeling awful for days before even going in contact with those things. maybe it was that. hopefully.
you assure your husband who was more concerned than you were—he always was. promising to finally go to the doctors this day, taking the rest of the time off.
two older teachers walk in the time he breaks contact. you learned it prevented lonesome, acrid co-workers from descending into their desolated lives to act as nothing more than strangers, remarks flying at the both of you whenever you even dared to look at each other in a way that they thought was too much 'affection in the workplace' because it was 'a bad image to the kids'.
he mumbles a small greeting as he walks to the table, returning to the dishes he'd plopped on there.
"the kids are freaking out." a history teacher says. she does it more towards the teacher beside her, in a volume that purposefully makes you hear it aswell.
"sorry?" ryland innocently interjects, refraining from taking a bite of his food.
"they're obsessed over the dots. those god damn dots."
"astrophage. that's what the president called it his speech last night." the other teacher corrected her.
you felt a tinge of pride. it was only a few days ago when you had named the dots. astrophage—you had invented that word.
"they're worried about freezing to death. 'going extinct' as one of them said. but, no offence, i don't believe that crap. sounds like another issue they're making up to distract us from all the corruption and things that's been happening. i mean, what did they say, 30 years? pfft. once they tried to fool us with that meteor that was going to kill us, and now it's freezing, huh? gotta admit, they're getting pretty damn creative about all this."
your co-worker continued to speak as she sips her coffee. you had been practically living under a rock because it's the first time you've heard about the president giving a speech about the petrova line problem, let alone that they've already estimated the time it'll take for the earth's conditions to become inhabitable. you felt a pit form in your stomach.
.
lunch break was long over and you were already outside, waiting for ryland to drive you to the doctor's. you took the day off as promised, and he offered to drive you there, says he'll make up an activity to buy him some time to take you there and come back to the school.
the drive was relatively short, but felt like the longest you've ever been. it was uncomfortably silent to the point where you became conscious of your involuntary reflexes, such as your breathing.
the car swiftly parks and there was a moment of silence. then, ryland faces you and gives you an encouraging smile—one a parent would to their child before dropping them off for the first day of school—before opening his door and heads to open yours.
he held your hand as you walked through the hallway. the smell of bleach, soap, and overall cleanliness reminded you of the lab, despite the place being unfamiliar. as a scientist, one of the things you prided yourself on wasn't only the scientific papers, but the precautions you took to not get sick.
it was successful; you haven't been in any health-related visits for almost a decade. so this was definitely a new thing, hence the astrophage poisoning theories.
sitting in the waiting room, ryland continues to grip your hand—gently but securely. as if you'd magically fly away if he held it a tad bit less tight.
"hey, what's wrong?" you quietly say. he turns his head to you, breathing a big, exhausted sigh. he looked like he was debating whether he should say something and was looking for the right words, or if he should even say it at all.
"you know, one of my students asked me if they were gonna die." he finally says. by the looks of it, you figured it wasn't just one student, but the whole class shared that fear. he was a terrible liar.
"i just thought—" he murmured, unable to find the courage to speak. but you knew. he didn't want to say it, didn't want it to come from him, but you knew. he's been reassuring you all this time, he didn't want you to think his faith, too, was now faltering.
"i was looking at a room full of children. happy children. and there was a good chance some of them would die of starvation." he says, taking his face in his hands. you couldn't say anything.
"i- i have to do something." he suddenly sits up, determined.
"what?" you say purely out of habit. because you knew exactly what he wanted to do. he wanted to go back to the lab, involve himself in there somehow. do something about it, because he could. and he was more than capable to do so.
but you couldn't find yourself agreeing to this. no, it would be too dangerous. and besides, you've done enough: risking your life as the first ones to come into contact with alien life, years or research condensed into just a few days. that was more than enough, even. you did your part; you were done.
"no, this isn't about ego, it's for the children. yes, i was wrong about the water, but i don't care about that. not anymore." but you also knew there was nothing that could have changed his mind.
it all happened in a flash; something about convincing stratt to give him a second chance, that he'd call as soon as he could, that he loved you, and a quick kiss to the forehead before dashing off.
.
it's 5:00 pm, that's what your watch told you. you were pacing back and forth in the kitchen still in the clothes you wore from work and from the doctor's office. you had gotten home just a few hours ago but you were unable to sit still. and you couldn't even find the courage to pick up the phone and call up his number.
no, it didn't have anything to do with courage. because now that you knew, you weren't so scared and lost as you were weeks ago. because now it all made sense.
the thing is, you couldn't wrap your head around it. it didn't feel real. just wasn't something you thought possible—at least not this soon.
so, you decided to wait.
you thought, if ryland wasn't going to call anytime soon, that window should give you a little bit more time to think. arrange your thoughts, collect them firstly, you still didn't know how you truly felt about it.
besides, the last time you worked in the lab took you days after all.
but you were impatient. and you were worried.
still, you didn't want to freak him out in the middle of an important matter.
you keep yourself busy. cleaning the house, which wasn't much work since you both are extremely strict in keeping the home organized and spotless. a good habit that's never left you after spending most of your days in labs in your university days.
you take a shower, a long one, which was spent zoning out and letting the warm water hit your skin.
you fix up yourself a good, healthy meal. something you weren't able to do the past few days, just eating whatever was the most convenient and sometimes even forgetting to do so. the guilt was now eating you up for letting yourself to live like that.
you replace your mandatory daily cup of black coffee for something healthier, too. a warm cup of lemon balm tea.
you allow yourself to skip out on grading student work for the night to go to bed a few hours earlier. unaccustomed to sleeping alone, the bed you've had for a long time now all of a sudden felt so big and unfamiliar, leaving you twisting and turning for a solid 20 minutes before drifting off to dream land.
your stomach wakes you up at 3 am and had you rushing to the bathroom even before you could properly open your eyes. you take your life in your hands with every step, your insides felt like they were going to spill, but you make it just in time to kneel in front of the toilet and vomit the entire content of your stomach. so much for being healthy.
after what felt like an eternity of fighting for your life, you went to the bedside table to retrieve your phone and call your husband. it was obvious now. it was not debatable. you have decided. now's the time. but both of you apparently had the same idea because as soon as you pick it up, his caller id pops up.
"hi honey, i'm so sorry it took me so long to reach out. i've been meaning to call but i've been so busy, i haven't even slept. but i have some great news." he says on the other end.
it made you emotional for some reason, to hear his voice in that state, tired, vulnerable, but through a phone because usually you had the priviledge of hearing it right next to you, whenever you wanted. it wasn't at all obvious that he wasn't able to get some rest because the enthusiasm in his voice easily masked it out.
"but before that, how have you been?" he says in a softer, more quiet tone now, contrary to what it was just seconds before. it puts a smile on your face.
"i'm alright. i'm feeling better now." you lie.
"that's good to hear,"
"hmm"
"i miss you."
you could hear a subtle sound of talking on his end. he must have been let back in the lab, or in some sort of meeting. people instructing one another, and surprisingly the sound of tape being pulled off from something?
but other than that, there was silence on both ends. not the uncomfortable kind, but the one that you often do together. just enjoying the company of one another, even if you couldn't see each other.
"the lab results says i-"
"carl and i made a baby."
"what?"
"what?"
"what baby?"
he cuts you off before you could say it, and you take it as a sign from the universe.
ryland explains how he convinced stratt to involve him back to the project. you knew she couldn't say no, she did look for him to take a look at the samples first. he spent his career working up theoretical models for alien life. he was one of if not the most valuable person for this research at the moment.
she left him a three dots; just three—that was the level of scarcity they were in. but still, he managed to find out how the astrophage bred, and eventually even made one himself which explains the 'baby'.
suddenly your call gets interrupted by an incoming one from an unknown number. it was stratt.
"dr. (l/n)?"
"yes?"
"where is your location as of the moment?"
"i'm at home- what's the matter?"
"please put on some decent clothes and stay right where you are."
"i'm sorry, how do you know where i live?"
the call ends before you could finish what you were saying, and the next few hours have been… unique.
—
you figured out that the hail mary would eventually halt in its travel in just a few days now, so you and grace have been preparing for it. rearranging the lab; cataloguing things to prevent them from crashing around in zero gravity.
but most importantly, you've been preparing yourselves. majority of the time was spent building your mental fortitude more than anything else. you have never been in zero g before. but even if you had, you couldn't remember. and so most of the time was spent in psychological preparation—especially with grace.
"do not panic."
"you'll be floating, but you'll still be in the ship."
"remember to breathe."
you weren't sure which of you should be more anxious: him who remembered more than you—even some of his training for extravehicular activity back on earth—or you, who recalled nothing.
“you are not going to be falling. you will not be in danger. the acceleration of the ship will stop. but that’s okay.” you said once, more directed to yourself, but it was obvious he needed to hear it more than you.
"are you worried about what might happen?"
"oh, i know what happens next—i’m just worrying about it anyway." he says with a nervous chuckle in an attempt to be humorous.
on the upside, the petrovascope would be operational once you reached your destination according to the control system which will finally give a start to what you actually came here for. it was good to have something to look forward to that happens the same day you'll be faced with agony.
you had been carefully monitoring the timer to prepare yourself. you would hate for it to just take you by surprise—having you randomly floating around in the middle of taking care of business. you see the seconds ticking away, and start to fidget in the control room for when something happens. but in reality you barely knew anything about the ship's controls.
mary starts counting down—audibly. it echoed throughout the whole ship that really helps ease the nerves and did not further heightened it more!
"approaching tau ceti orbit. prepare for engine cutoff in ten…nine…"
and grace was still nowhere to be found.
"six…five…"
where could he possibly be at this time.
"three…two…"
you fasten yourself to your seat, taking a big breath as if the oxygen supplied would also be cutoff with it.
"one…zero. you are now orbiting tau ceti."
the engine shuts off, and the 1.5g you've been feeling vanishes aswell, making you float off your seat just a few centimeters upward, the seat belt you've attached earlier holding you in place. the lights turn off, the buttons and stars being the only things illuminating the ship.
you panic. no amount of training or pep talks could have prepared you for this. you grip the edges of your seat and hook your legs on the bottom to tether yourself. you desperately tried to take deep, steady breaths, which obviously don't work.
and then you heard it, a scream.
it was grace.
he shrieks again. this time with yelps and grunts and the constant repetition of "i'm not falling, i'm in space". you hear him flail around, grasping at random things to float towards the control room.
turns out, he's been at the beach. or more precisely, he's been watching the beach projected in the "don't go crazy" room.
he curls into a fetal position, still mumbling the things you have been telling him in preparation like a prayer. you pull yourself together and take a few breaths in before unbuckling your seatbelt to go to his aid.
after what felt like an eternity, you finally made your way to his side where you could see him trying so desperately to control his breathing.
"dr. grace? are you okay?" you say in a small voice, to which he physically reacts to and starts flailing around all over again.
oh god.
you grab on to whatever you could, not caring for the mess, grabbing his arm, to which he uses to immediately pull himself towards you and clings onto your body like a sloth to its mother. he stuck onto you like his life depended on it—well, maybe it did.
for a moment you sit still in the company of one another, even if it didn't particularly feel very comfortable. you stick a hand out to hold the edge of your seatbelt, the other gripping his arm, while grace holds on to your torso and rests his head on your stomach, mumbling censored version of curse words.
there was something so invasive about being able to feel when someone's body heaved up and down as they breathed in and out. especially the way you could feel their hot breath on your skin.
you mentally curse at yourself for thinking strange things; making an already weird situation even weirder. he was only holding on to you because he had no choice. he was in zero g, the poor man was nervous. and besides, he was already married to somebody else.
"oh gosh," he says after a while. you felt relieved he was able to realize just how unprofessional the predicament that was placed upon the both of you.
you mumble an apology. and just as you were about to let go, he quickly pulls down the collar of shirt, tilts his head in, and pukes.
oh.
great.
(but hey, thank god it wasn't you.)
.
you'd been toggling with the petrovascope as grace walked out (floated out?) in embarrassment to clean himself. it surprisingly worked just like an ordinary camera. you could poke at the screen and even pan, zoom in or out, rotate, and so on. you were going to have a blast.
at first all you could see were stars—a huge spill of stars floating in the distance. you swipe at the screen to look at it from different angles and overall just trying to find tau ceti altogether.
and you finally see it. but you also see a dark-red arch coming out of the bottom-left portion of the star.
contrary to popular belief, tau ceti did have a petrova line. but it wasn't dimming. why?
you thought about all the experiments you needed to do, so much of them you didn’t even know where to begin. you could see that the line leads to one of the planets and thought maybe you could collect some of the astrophage to do a comparison to the ones back on earth. and to do that you'll have to just fly into the line itself and just scrape the sample off the hull with an eva suit.
you operate the petrovascope as ryland comes back in. it looked like he was already getting used to floating and was already commendable as he held onto the parts of the ship to get around.
on his way to the chair next to you, he bumps his head rather aggressively onto some of the protruding controls on his side. you take back what you said.
"hey, what's a 'blip-a'?"
you spot a flash on the screen, a solid light source that kept on shining. the steady light grows brighter, and brighter before it eventually stops.
could it be the astrophage? but when you look back at the petrova line a giant object was blocking it from view. it looked like a hull.
now that you realize it, it looked like a uniquely engineered ship.
"is that an alien ship?"
a ship.
another ship.
in this star system with you.
but the design, it was nothing like any spacecraft you've ever seen. no one in their right mind would make a ship that shape, at least no one on earth. a ship like that certainly would be impossible to be made back on your home planet. it defies every law of physics. unless it really was an alien ship.
if they were, did they live here? was tau ceti their star? you tried to be as calm as possible primarily because you didn't truly know what it was and if it was an alien ship, you would want to be rational in your decisions as to not piss them off or anything. becoming alien food was at the last of your list at this time.
"m-maybe it's a ship from earth! maybe they sent multiple ships in case of redundancy or, or something. maybe that ship's the- i don't know, praise allah or the blessing of vishnu or something!" grace trails off.
"any idea what 'blip-b' could be?" you look into the radar and see a small cylinder approaching the hail mary at 8.6 centimeters per second.
it could be a message.
so far, the blip-a hasn't tried to evade the hail mary or blow it up to smithereens. your little experiment—grace's experiment of thrusting the ship forward (to which the blip-a copies)—has proved, so far, no hostile intent.
but you've watched enough sci-fi thrillers to know that aliens were smart creatures and if they were manipulating you all this time you could just, well, die.
you expressed this, saying you were the only hope of the human race. you had to think rationally, taking a random cylinder from an alien space ship was definitely not rational at all.
but he had already decided; it wasn't debatable. grace wanted to do a spacewalk.
.
he brings the blip-b back into the ship, looking at it intently as he and the cylinder floated around.
you grab it—it was hot as hell.
you yelp and immediately pull your hands away. grace looked quite confused, but quickly realized that he was still wearing his spacesuit gloves, protecting him from the heat. he pushes the cylinder back to the airlock to let it cool.
he examines your hand which, thanks to your reflexes, wasn't burnt. you decided to run a bunch of tests. but the problem was the lab. a bunch of equipment was still floating around and was certainly not operational in zero g. it was just somehow expecting for there to be a 'floor'. it can't be that you would have to fly around for gravity, no?
and then you remember: centrifuge. (or the one they used to make butter in the civil war—fun fact).
grace floats back up to the cockpit and flip through screens on various consoles. he find it; the “centrifuge” screen and enables it. you check the screen again. it showed a pitch rate of 20.71° per second, a total separation of 104 meters, and a “lab gravity” of 1.00 g. perfect.
turns out the blip,-b was made out of a very special solidified version of the gas xenon. you called it 'xenonite'.
in it was an intricate diagram of shapes; tiny spheres held in place by thinner whiskers branches. a diagram of the petrova line and specific stars with tau ceti in the center. the alien was from the 40 eridani system. their star, serius, is also dimming.
"you have a petrova line problem, just like us."
grace works the model of where you were from. hopefully they would understand the underlying message that said "the enemy of my enemy is my friend. if astrophage is your enemy, i’m your friend."
the next cylinder arrives with another model. the hail mary and blip a with a tube that connects mary's airlock and leads to the center of the blip-a’s diamond-shaped segment. the tunnel just wide enough to cover the airlock door.
they wanted to meet.
.
now this was just pure recklessness. you had a planet to save. seven billion people back home, fighting for their lives, and it's so easy for you to decide, yes! let us in your ship, friend! even at the cost of our lives!
but ryland, you recently discovered, had a talent of both being the most irrational person you've ever met but somehow managing to talk you to agree with him.
"of all the bad decisions we have made, this is by far the worst! we were lucky enough to survive the blips and the xenonite, but this? it's a no." you argued, temper now skyrocketing to the sky (as if you weren't already in space).
"i think—they’re trying to tell us that they’re here for the same reason we are. they might have information we don’t know. they might even have the solution we're looking for!" he says, impatiently.
"you could die! i don't want that. i can't live if i let you go now and you end up killing yourself, grace." you retort, not realizing that you were now yelling when you saw his dumbfounded face.
"hey, hey," he walks closer to you, taking your face with both his hands as he looks directly into your eyes.
"it'll be alright." he says. you could feel yourself easing into his touch, you take in a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
you could feel the cool weight of his ring on the right side of your heating up face which snaps you back to reality.
he was married.
oh god.
oh god.
you unwillingly bring your hand to his, which he takes as a sign and pulls back.
"i- if we ignore them, they might continue trying to talk, but they wouldn’t get hostile... I don’t think." he says now, not meeting your eyes.
"y- yeah... just be careful." you reply, avoiding his gaze.
you climb back to the control room to monitor grace using the cameras around the hail mary and built-in comms in his eva suit.
"hello? does this work?" he says, a silly question. why would earth go as far as to make an interstellar ship but send faulty equipment anyway. you let out a dry chuckle.
"dr. grace, please be careful." you were thankful he couldn't see you. you wanted the earth to swallow you whole, if only you weren't in space.
"copy that." he flicks his thumb up and gives you a smile before he opens the airlock.
what the fuck were you thinking!
stupid.
—
when stratt said that she was going to send a plane, this wasn't what you had in mind.
it was approximately 12 hours later; you weren't quite sure since after only just a few minutes after your call, agents were already knocking at your door saying that stratt had sent them and that you should come with them.
you hadn't even had the chance to look at yourself in the mirror when those people arrived and drove you into a high school football field where a u.s. marine corps helicopter had already landed and hustled you in. as soon as you landed, you were then led to ride what looked like an air force jet. luckily, they gave you pills that knocked the life out of you, and hours later, you wake up in hawaii.
(that wasn't the end of it.)
they then put you in another jet (a navy jet this time) which flew you on to what looked like an aircraft carrier.
(this also wasn't the end of it.)
you ride a chopper and the travel this time was relatively short and you descended on to another aircraft carrier with a huge chinese flag flying over it. that's when you realized how serious this truly was, with the many nations surprisingly cooperating with one another.
you finally landed—at sea.
"dr. (l/n), how was your trip?" stratt emerges from the other vehicles parked, along with other personnel she instructs to bring your things for you.
you answer with a big, exhausted sigh, and she leads you to a big conference room with at least twenty people sitting at a big table.
"are you sure we're at the ri-"
"yes." stratt said. "ladies and gentlemen, this is dr. (y/n) (l/n) from the united states. with dr. ryland grace's recommendation, she will be assisting in astrophage research."
most of the people nodded, some looking serious. now that you had a better look at it, the room was full of professionals—military, scientists, doctors, leaders. all working together on the petrova line problem.
one particular person caught your eye, wearing a bright, striped, vest, compared to those who wore grey, muted colors. it was impossible not to spot him by the way. when he met yours, he immediately waved his hand—it was your husband.
your reunion gets interrupted when stratt hands you a folder.
“this is what led to the hail mary project.”
“you’re showing her?” a person said.
“now? without getting a clearance—” stratt sighed and puts her hand on your shoulder.
“dr. (y/n) (l/n), i hereby grant you top-secret clearance to all information pertaining to project hail mary.”
“there are processes and background checks to—”
“no time,” stratt said. “no time for any of that stuff. that’s why you put me in charge. speed."
“these are readings from amateur astronomers all over the world. they show something very important. please read it.” she says.
.
you thought it was ridiculous; making an interstellar ship to travel 11.9 light years towards a star just to 'see what's up'. it's what you would call a 'long shot'—hail mary, you get it.
you also couldn't think of any other solution than to hope there'd be some special dust in tau ceti that they could bring home to cure sol, too.
in just a bat of an eye, you were now living on a boat, leaving your colorful (and noisy) classroom for something more major. you were working in astrophage research, especially astrophage reproduction.
an interstellar ship would need massive amounts of fuel to travel that far and those tiny dots turned out to be not only a pain in the ass but also amazing fuel as they store great amounts of energy.
this environment wasn't new to you. still, you often found yourself gazing out into the ocean, deep in thought, with the excuse of just needing fresh air. you had to. now that time was slowly running out, you held on to desperate measures to make this work.
there were now reports of tornados happening in italy, spain, and greece. partially because of shifting weather patterns and partially because some lunatic decided to decorate the sahara desert with black rectangles.
stratt had no choice. it was starting to snow in vietnam and the astrophage production was painfully slow. rumors spread that they were planning on nuking the antarctic next to release methane to keep earth’s temperature.
"iced caramel latte for dr. (l/n)?" ryland emerges out of nowhere, two cups of coffee in hand.
"they didn't have any milk left so i had to improvise. tastes pretty good- well, decent. what i mean by that is, it's not the worst thing ever made in the world." he says with a smile. you politely decline.
"i don't think i'm ready."
he assumed you meant it about the drink. when he thought about it, replacing caramel with plain brown sugar didn't sound appetizing to him as it did when he was making it. but seeing the serious look on your face, he realized you hadn't meant coffee.
"what are you so worried about, hmm?" he sets down both drinks and gets closer to you. he gently cups your face with both his hands, his warm palms heating up your cold skin.
the first time stratt offered you to work in a lab was the first time anyone ever did after you left. it left a bad taste on your tongue and you were nervous, but also undeniably excited. just this once, you thought. just this time and then it was over; you would quit. that was what was agreed upon, anyway. find out what the dots are made of and go home.
you didn't expect it to become this serious; this real, this soon.
the sun was really dying and you were also slowly disintegrating inside with distress and fear.
"i'm just, scared." you let your cowardice take over you again. that you were just anxious because the world really was ending. and you couldn't handle the pressure of having humanity's fate at the palm of your hands.
ryland shakes his head, unsatisfied with your answer. he could feel it, the fear. but it wasn't the only thing bugging your mind.
"no, no- are you not gonna tell me? hmm? tell me what's going on, baby. tell me what's on your mind." he says, looking right into your eyes.
those bright blue eyes that always seemed to know when you were just too beaten up for the day, so he gently places your feet on his lap to massage them. the eyes that silently admire your face, gazing through and counting each mole—correlating them to constellations—memorizing its place so that he could kiss it goodnight.
the eyes that could see right through you even on days when you couldn't youself; now they did.
no matter how much deep breaths you took, your lungs never seemed to fill. and your tears were flowing like a river, staining the sleeves of his sweater.
"i'm pregnant," you say under your breath, in the fear that it might get caught in the wind.
he stays still. and for a minute, that single sentence defied the laws of physics, making the time stop, the gravity under your feet failing to keep you tethered as your body floats and your mind wanders.
please say something.
having a baby was not part of the plan, at least not now. and you weren't ready to be a mother. you weren't in the right head space, and the fucking world was about to end. the child would suffer; it was selfish. did he resent you for this?
"i know this is the worst time-"
"no, honey, i- i'm gonna be a father?"
you nod, because you didn't know what else to say.
his eyes soften for a second before he went in to press his lips onto yours, as if what you had said had been the greatest thing he's ever heard.
it was delicate, deliberate. he kissed you like he never did before, as if this had been the first time he had come across your lips, and wanted to be as careful as possible, not caring who might spot you. let them see how much i love you.
you break it with a soft exhale.
"i'm in if you are." he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
you could feel the cold weight of his band against your cheek—a testament to what you had vowed years ago.
you take his hand in yours, entwining your fingers with his as you slowly nod through sniffles.
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More studies of Dr. Ryland Grace from Project Hail Mary, ft Rocky, aka the two bestest of friends ever from the best movie and also book ever oh my god
One of my fave moments is when Grace draws PPE onto Rocky's dome, so he can be included in big science time D:
Imagine Grace defined his name as the elegance definition of grace and Rocky spends years thinking how fucking ironic this clumsy leaky space blobs name is.
Until Grace slips out a sentence along the lines of "could you give me a little grace here" and Rocky immediately points out he used a word wrong so Grace has to explain that yeah, grace means elegance but it can also mean mercy sometimes too.
And Rocky has to suddenly reconcile that the clumsy leaky blob that saved his life twice, that almost certainly doomed himself to come back for him, name is Mercy.
Okay but imagine being the team of Eridian scientists tasked with keeping Erid's Only Human alive for as long as possible while the whole planet's environment is literally trying to kill him. And then Rocky shows up and is like:
“Grace says he would like half of dome to be water.”
“Oh, is necessary for humans to have large amounts of water question?”
Small Eridian equivalent of a sigh. “No. Not needed for life. In fact Grace will die if he falls in water and does not get out.”
“Tell him we give him water in containers that won't kill him. Lots lots lots of water on Erid for Grace to drink.”
“No. Grace say he want water on ground. Also want it with excess sodium chloride compound so it will be unhealthy for drink.”
To celebrate Erid getting their sun back on track, Grace asks for some alcohol. There's a small amount left from the Hail Mary and Rocky offers to take it to the science Eridians to see if they can synthesise more.
“Grace want this liquid for celebration.”
“Of course.” They scan it. “You have wrong liquid. This contain compounds which are poisonous for humans.”
“Yes yes yes. Grace say humans like feeling of being slightly poisoned.”
the comic is sponsered by my own aroace ness. it has been so healing to see such a wide accepted headcanon with grace being aroace. he is so special to me.
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