"we live in an uncaring universe." sorry the special planet full of beauty and animals and food literally growing out of the ground isnt good enough for you. i guess
warnings: lack of sleep is taking its toll on him; angry Rocky; cuddling, some flirting; Reader is in danger; Reader is hurt; Ryland is caring and sweet; Rocky is a menace
note : life on Hail Mary - lack of sleep, danger, but also the need for closeness.
A/N: Nothing special. I had one scene in mind, so I had to write everything around it. I wanted to thank you all because I see you're reading. It means a lot to me. It's hard to get back into writing after a break…
[Ryland Grace masterlist] [main masterlist]
"Grace stupid."
You looked up from your tablet at Rocky, who was shifting restlessly inside his xenonite enclosure. You couldn’t see a face—if he even had one—but his posture made it obvious: he was irritated. Ryland, meanwhile, dragged a hand through his hair, only making it worse. He was clearly sulking.
"Easy, buddy," he muttered, pointing at Rocky before turning to you. "Did you hear what he just called me?"
You pressed your lips together, setting your tablet aside with deliberate care. "Well… Grace, I don’t think he’s entirely wrong."
Ryland threw his hands up. "Wow. Okay. You’re taking his side!"
"You and Rocky alliance. Good. Grace still stupid."
For hours, the lab had been filled with intense work and loud arguments. The experiment they’d been so sure about had failed immediately. Neither of them gave up, of course—just pivoted, recalculated, argued, and tried again.
If not for you, Grace and Rocky would’ve forgotten to eat entirely. And when they ignored you, you had to physically herd them away like stubborn children, promising they could come back once they’d finished their food.
You checked your watch. Nearly sixteen hours. No wonder Grace was getting sloppy. No wonder Rocky was irritated.
"You need to lie down," you said, stepping toward Ryland. "You need sleep."
"I don’t need—"
You took the tools from his hands and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead.
"Don’t argue with me," you said firmly. "Rocky’s right. When you’re tired, you get irritable and act… stupid."
He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you. "I just want this to work. We’re close. I can feel it. Another hour or two and—"
"And then Armando gets to hook you up to life support? No. You’re done."
Rocky shifted slightly in his enclosure, pretending not to listen, but he failed. "Grace must sleep. You correct. You smarter than Grace."
You bit back a laugh and rested a hand on Ryland’s shoulder before he could respond. The last thing you needed was another argument on the Hail Mary.
"You take Grace to sleep, question? You watch Grace, question?"
That got you thinking. Rocky rarely asked to be replaced while watching Grace—not like this. He must have been in a really bad mood right now.
"I promise," you said gently, tapping the transparent wall. "Everything okay, Rocky?"
"Will be good after Grace sleeps.” But he tapped lightly in return.
You took Ryland’s arm and led him toward the dorm.
"He likes you more than me," Grace muttered, glancing back.
"Don’t be jealous," you said quietly. You knew Rocky could hear every word anyway. And you also knew he’d still be listening.
The dorm lights were dim. Grace kicked off his Converse and set his glasses aside with zero precision. At some point, the two of you had pushed your mattresses together. One was too narrow. Two were better. Safer, and somehow - less lonely.
He collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh. You sat against the wall, picking up a jumpsuit and examining the tear in the sleeve. Quiet work felt right while he rested. Maybe you’d put on an audiobook—there were still so many left in the archive.
"What are you doing?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
"I’ve got a suit to repair," you said, holding it up.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Come here."
"You need sleep."
"Yeah, and how am I supposed to sleep if you’re sitting over there?" He propped himself up, frowning. "It’s bad enough Rocky’s probably still listening, maybe watching too."
You sighed. You weren’t winning this one. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. It’s science. Probably. I mean, there are studies—okay, I don’t remember them exactly, but it sounds like something science would support."
You raised an eyebrow. "That sounds made up."
"It is. But it’s also true."
"...Wow. Okay."
You slipped off your shoes and lay down beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just the distant hum of the ship, the faint sounds of the lab far away.
Then—
"I’m really glad you’re here. I mean—not glad you’re on a suicide mission. That part is objectively terrible. But… you being here is not terrible." he said. "I mean—this whole situation sucks, obviously. But… yeah. I’m glad it’s you."
You smiled softly. "I’m glad too. Though I would’ve preferred meeting you under better circumstances. Dinner or something like this, maybe."
Ryland swallowed. "Wait—really? You mean, like… a date?"
"Yes. A date. If you wanted."
"Yes—" he said immediately. Too immediately. Then he froze. "I mean—yes. Hypothetically. In a purely theoretical, post-not-dying scenario—yes."
You laughed. "Good. Then when this is over, that’s the first thing we’re doing."
He smiled, softer now. "Deal," he said, and paused. "That sounded too intense. I didn’t mean it like—okay, I’m going to stop talking now."
Your hand found his, your fingers threading together naturally. "You should be asleep," you murmured.
"Working on it." Grace yawned, his eyes already slipping shut. "My brain is currently running three parallel processes," he muttered. "One is exhausted, one is trying to solve the experiment, and one is… this." He gestured vaguely between you. "This one is the least efficient."
You smiled softly. "And which one is winning?"
"None," he mumbled. "Total system failure imminent."
You let out a quiet breath, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand.
"Dr. Grace," you said softly, "I once read a study that said hugging reduces stress. Don’t you think that, combined with your current research, we might—"
"I think that’s an excellent idea," he murmured, cutting in before you could finish. "Groundbreaking. Nobel Prize. Minimum."
His voice faded at the edges, words blurring as sleep caught up with him. You shifted closer, careful, resting lightly against him. For a second, he went still—just for a second— then relaxed. His breathing slowed, evening out, steady and warm beneath your cheek. You stayed like that, listening. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t what you would have chosen. But it was good. Somehow.
Rocky was already waiting when you stepped back into the lab. "Grace sleep efficiency improved, question."
You blinked. “Yes?"
"Good. Rocky observations confirm."
Ryland groaned behind you. "Oh no. What did you observe?"
"Heart rate lower. Breathing stable. Grace not stupid during sleep."
You pressed your lips together. "Rocky—"
"Also," he added, "proximity to you increases Grace survival probability."
Ryland froze. "I—what?"
"Conclusion: you stay close to Grace. For science." A pause. "Rocky approve."
Ryland buried his face in his hands. "I’m never going to recover from this."
++++++
"How are you doing?"
Ryland’s voice came through the intercom in your helmet.
"She fine. Question." Rocky said from somewhere in the background.
"It’s fine, Rocky. One more spot and I’m done," you replied.
You clipped yourself to the railing and moved along the Hail Mary’s hull. The damage wasn’t severe, but it needed fixing. The welder Rocky had modified worked perfectly, sealing the hull faster than expected.
Even before you left the airlock, you had to deal with Grace. He didn’t like you going out alone — it made him anxious.
"I’ll be fine," you had told him, pulling on your suit. "Eat something. Get some rest. I know what I’m doing."
"I know," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. "I just— I worry, okay? You’re— I mean, you matter. To the mission. And— just— don’t die, okay?"
"Okay," you smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "Two hours. I’ll be back."
He nodded, but it didn’t really reassure him.
"How are you doing?" he asked again now, over the intercom. "Not trying to be pushy. Rocky’s worried."
"Rocky is not worried. She knows what she is doing. Smarter than Grace."
You smiled. "A few more minutes. What if—"
The ship jolted. The welder slipped from your grip, but you caught it just in time. Another jolt.
"Something’s wrong with the engine— I think it’s a short— I’m fixing it— just— hold on— are you there? Can you hear me?"
"I am, just—"
The next pull yanked you off the railing. The tether snapped tight, then recoiled like a whip, slamming you into the hull. Your head slammed into the helmet. A dull crack echoed in your ears. The air punched out of your lungs — nothing left, just panic and silence.
"Grace! She needs help. Grace! Focus. Fix engine. Now."
You couldn’t answer. Everything spun.
"Are you there? Can you hear me? Say something— please."
"Quick, quick, quick."
Warmth spread across your lips. Metallic. Blood. Your fingers tightened around the welder pressed to your chest as another violent tug shook you. You grabbed the railing again, pain shooting through your arm.
"She there. Time critical. Grace, take her."
The buzzing in your head grew louder. Nausea rolled through you. You clung to the railing, your only anchor. Your vision dimmed.
You were lying on something soft.
"Eye movement detected."
You tried to move, but a hand caught yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles before he let go — like he wasn’t sure he should. He pulled back a little too quickly.
"Hey. Easy."
Ryland.
You opened your eyes briefly — too bright — then shut them again.
"You had a minor concussion," he said, voice quieter now. "Some bruising. You’re okay. Medical system patched you up. You scared us."
"You came for me?" you whispered.
"Of course I did," he said immediately. "Statistically, you’re my favorite person."
"There are no other people here, Grace," Rocky pointed out.
Your lips twitched. You touched your head and felt the bandage under your fingers.
"You should lie down," Ryland said.
"You’re not that kind of doctor."
"Still counts. You’re concussed. You don’t get opinions."
You let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh. "You look tired."
"I’m not," he said quickly. "I’ll stay."
And he did.
When you woke again, hours had passed. Grace didn’t mean to fall asleep, his hand was still loosely wrapped around yours. Rocky watched over both of you.
Later, you managed to sit up. Then stand.
"I didn’t thank you," you said quietly as Ryland steadied you. "You saved me."
"You’d have done the same," he replied, watching you carefully. You scared us." He paused „You scared me."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. Just— next time, you’re staying inside."
Two days later, you were moving on your own again — though neither of them let you do any real work. After you failed to complete your work outside the ship, someone had to do it. The choice wasn't difficult, or rather, you no longer had a say.
"Grace worried. Very, very, very," Rocky said.
"I know," you replied, watching Ryland on the screen outside. "He’s nice, isn’t he?"
"Grace heart rate changes when you speak."
You smiled faintly. "I like him too. And I like you too, Rocky."
"Grace observes you. Often. When you not looking."
"Rocky— stop." You felt yourself blushing and a strange shiver ran down your neck.
"Why stop? This is data."
You blinked. You looked up from the screen and looked at your friend. "What? No — we’re just friends."
"Grace looks at you differently. You look at him that way also. Grace very worried."
You glanced back at the screen, Grace still working. You knew you would have followed him without hesitation, whether his life was in danger or he suddenly decided to fly to the other side of the universe.
"It’s complicated," you said softly. "Humans are complicated."
A click.
"I’m done," Ryland’s voice came through the radio. "Heading back."
"I’m waiting for you. Be careful."
You saw the thumbs-up and smiled. You didn’t see it — the way he smiled, just for a second.
The airlock hissed open. You were already there waiting for him to help him with the suit. Ryland stepped inside, pulling off his helmet too fast, eyes finding you immediately.
"Hey," he said, a little breathless.
"Hey."
He crossed the distance without thinking. He ignored your hands that were waiting to take the helmet from him and threw it to the ground. "Don't do that again, don't go out there alone." he said quietly. "Please."
"I’ll try."
"That’s not—" he stopped, exhaled. "Okay. Fine."
His hand found yours, like it had before — but this time he didn’t hesitate.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “When I came back for you… I’ll never forget it. And being there now, I kept thinking about it.”
“You didn’t lose me, Grace.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I didn’t.”
But he didn’t move away, not even a little. You were standing too close now. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slower, more deliberate. The look in his eyes was different than usual.
Your lips. Your eyes. Back again. Something shifted.
"Grace. Heart rate elevated."
Neither of you reacted.
"Significant. Cause: you."
You let out a soft breath, but neither of you pulled away. Ryland leaned in, closer. Close enough that you could feel his breath, uneven and warm. He hesitated— just for a fraction of a second— like he was giving himself one last chance to stop.
"Data indicates—"
Ryland closed the distance. The kiss was soft and careful. A little unsure at first — like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was real. Then his hand tightened slightly around yours, and something in him settled, and it was real. You touched his cheek gently, feeling his soft stubble under your fingers.
"—contact established," Rocky finished.
Ryland pulled back enough to look at you. His blue eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done.
"…Okay," he breathed.
A beat of your heart.
"Statistically," he added quietly, "that was a good decision."
You laughed softly, and then he smiled – gently, a little crooked, but completely sincere. And this time, when he leaned in again, he didn't hesitate.
When everything around you was so crazy and dangerous, when you lived with the feeling that the end might soon come – this closeness was what you craved. What you deserved. What you wanted to wrest from fate together.
