𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 | ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥 ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪
𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Ryland Grace x F! OC 𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Ryland Grace and Bee have finally found a fragile kind of normal on Erid. After the mission, life slowly settles into routine: Ryland teaches young Eridians physics and problem-solving alongside Rocky, while Bee preserves Earth’s memory through painting and sketching. As the two of them build a quiet life together, their days fill with small rhythms, walks along the shoreline of a biodome ocean with Rocky and Adrian. The more time the two spend with Rocky and Adrian, they start to think about their future, together. Encouraged (and lightly observed) by Rocky, Ryland wrestles with his anxiety over doing things “right,” overthinking every possible way to propose until he realizes perfection isn’t something he can calculate. Choosing the place they already love most, he leads Bee to the beach at sunset. There, Ryland finally proposes in his own chaotic, heartfelt way, with Rocky and Adrian secretly watching nearby. Bee says yes, and what began as survival becomes something deeper: a shared future built not on perfection, but on choice, love, and finally belonging. 𝓦𝓬: 5,193 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: Hi Lovelies, I'm back with more Project Hail Mary fics! So I've been kind of in love with the small little universe I have created so a lot of the fics I have come up with have been after the events of the movie/ book (which I am trying to save up for because I would love to read the book), so you can see this as kind of a prequel to my other two fics or a stand alone fic, up to you. (Possibly two parter, not super sure yet). I have been thinking about creating possibly a Coltland AU one shot with Ryland and Bee but I haven't decided yet. (I have so many ideas for fics, it's not even funny). No warnings, just tooth rotting fluff (and a bit of Ryland being chaotic) I hope you all enjoy this fic! ao3
The first thing Bee noticed about Erid was the light.
Not because it was strange, but because it wasn't.
After everything they'd been through, she hadn't expected their new home to constantly remind her that she was standing on an alien planet sixteen light-years from Earth. She had expected unfamiliar skies, impossible landscapes, and daily reminders that she no longer belonged to the world she'd been born on. Instead, when she stepped into the biodome for the first time, she found herself staring out at a coastline that felt almost painfully familiar. It reminded her of San Francisco.
The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass walls, its dark blue surface disappearing into a blanket of pale gray fog that rolled lazily across the water. Waves crashed rhythmically against the rocky shoreline below, sending white foam spraying into the air before retreating back into the sea. Above it all hung thick clouds that filtered the sunlight into a soft silver glow, casting long shadows across the beach and cliffs. It looked less like an alien world and more like a memory. Like a photograph pulled from an old travel magazine. The resemblance to California's bay area was so precise that for a brief moment Bee forgot where she was entirely.
The Eridians had been studying Earth for years by this point, after Rocky had sent a message to the other Eridians that Ryland and Bee would be living on Erid. They had analyzed climate data, weather patterns, ecosystems, and geography with the same meticulous dedication they applied to engineering. Every detail had been considered. The cool air carried the faint scent of saltwater, moisture lingered in the atmosphere, gathering in tiny droplets along the glass walls. Even the quality of the light felt familiar. The entire biodome had been designed with one purpose in mind, making two humans feel at home on a planet that should have been completely inhospitable to them.
Beside her, Ryland had gone suspiciously quiet.
Bee turned just enough to glance over her shoulder.
Her boyfriend stood several feet behind her, staring at the beach in front of them with an expression she couldn't quite place. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose, completely ignored. One hand remained shoved awkwardly into the pocket of his jacket while the other hung at his side. He looked overwhelmed in a way she rarely saw anymore.
Which was saying something.
The man had survived a mission across the galaxy as he'd saved Earth and Erid.
He'd willingly launched himself through space attached only to a flimsy rope against the ship to keep him from floating into space more times than he could count now.
And yet a foggy beach appeared to have rendered him speechless.
"Ryland?"
He didn't respond, seemingly lost in thought,and it made Bee smile.
"Ryland."
She spoke a little louder this time, but again, her response was met with silence.
"Dr. Grace."
That finally got his attention.
"Huh?"
"You've been staring at the beach for five minutes."
His gaze immediately drifted back toward the ocean.
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"Maybe three minutes."
Bee laughed softly.
"What's going on in that giant science brain of yours?"
For a moment Ryland didn't answer. He simply continued looking out at the water below, watching another wave crash against the rocks beneath the cliffs. The house perched above the shoreline caught his attention next, its large windows glowing warmly against the gray backdrop of fog and ocean.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded oddly distant.
"I spent years imagining what Erid would look like."
Bee raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"I was wrong."
"You were wrong about an alien planet?"
"I know. Shocking."
She bumped her shoulder against his.
"What were you expecting?"
Ryland considered the question carefully.
"A giant cave."
Bee stared at him, a slightly amused expression on her face.
"A cave."
"Yeah."
"An entire planet-sized cave?"
"Well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."
"It is ridiculous."
"I was under a lot of stress."
Bee couldn't help but laugh softly, because yeah, he was under a lot of stress…They both were.
"That's your excuse for everything."
"It works surprisingly often."
His smile lingered for another moment before slowly fading as his attention returned to the coastline.
Bee watched him quietly. There was something different about him today, not in a bad way. He just looked more thoughtful.
For years, their lives had been dictated by survival. It had started with the Astrophage crisis and the slow realization that the sun was dying. Then came Eva Stratt, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and upended both of their lives by recruiting them to help answer an impossible question: why was Tau Ceti's sun the only one unaffected? From there, everything seemed to happen at once. Endless research, impossible deadlines, and the growing pressure of knowing that the fate of Earth rested on the shoulders of people who were making discoveries as they went.
Then came the mission itself.
The years aboard the Hail Mary had brought a different kind of struggle. There was the confusion of waking up in deep space with no memory of who they were, the terrifying process of piecing their identities back together, and the endless series of challenges that seemed determined to kill them before they ever reached Tau Ceti. Every problem solved only revealed another waiting around the corner. Every success was followed by a new obstacle.
For so long, every decision they made had been focused on the same goal: surviving long enough to see the next day.
But standing here now, staring at the little house overlooking the ocean, there was suddenly something neither of them had allowed themselves to think about before.
A future, a real one.
Not a hypothetical future they'd joked about during sleepless nights aboard the Hail Mary. Not a distant possibility they'd avoided discussing because neither of them knew if they'd survive long enough to see it.
An actual future.
Bee found herself thinking back to those early days aboard the ship before Rocky entered their lives. Back when it had only been the two of them navigating an impossible mission together. They had spent countless evenings sitting in the observation deck long after they should have been sleeping, talking about everything except the things that scared them. Favorite books, music they missed, terrible movies they secretly loved, childhood stories, anything that reminded them there was still a life waiting for them somewhere beyond the mission.
Somewhere along the way, friendship had quietly become something more.
Neither of them had acknowledged it. Not because they didn't know, but because they did.
The mission had simply been more important.
Then Rocky had arrived and somehow become part of that little family they were building among the stars.
Bee smiled at the memory.
For years, she had watched Ryland and Rocky grow closer, an unlikely friendship built from shared disasters, impossible engineering problems, and enough scientific debate to last several lifetimes.
She had seen them argue through translation delays and emergency repairs, plan survival strategies in the middle of chaos, and somehow still find understanding in each other across species and silence. She had watched Rocky carry both of them to safety after their mission on the planet they named Adrian, honoring Rocky’s mate, when Ryland had been injured and she’d nearly lost control of the ship trying to drag them back through the atmosphere.
And she had watched Ryland, again and again, choose to risk everything for Rocky without hesitation, just as Rocky did for him.
What had started as necessity, then cooperation, had slowly become something else entirely. Family.
And now, for the first time since leaving Earth, that family finally had somewhere to belong.
Neither Bee nor Ryland spoke for several moments.
Together they stared at the little beach house perched on the cliffs overlooking the ocean.
A home, not a ship that they had come accustomed to, a real home, that wasn't temporary.
The realization settled quietly between them as another wave crashed against the shore below.
For the first time in years, neither of them had anywhere else they needed to be.
-
As weeks passed, life on Erid , surprisingly, became normal for the two of them.
Not the kind of normal that Earth had ever offered, no traffic, no crowded schedules, no background hum of obligations, but a quieter version of it. A routine that somehow formed anyway, as if even the end of interstellar crisis couldn’t stop life from organizing itself into patterns.
Ryland had taken to teaching Erdian kids, which he had learned were called "pebbles".
Life, surprisingly, became normal.
Not the kind of normal Earth had ever offered, no traffic, no packed schedules, no constant pressure humming in the background, but something quieter. A version of routine that somehow formed anyway, as if even interstellar catastrophe couldn’t stop life from settling into patterns if given enough time.
Ryland had become a teacher.
At first, it wasn’t planned. A handful of curious young Eridians, that Rocky told him were called pebbles in Erdian culture, began gathering while he and Rocky worked through translation systems and environmental models, watching him sketch diagrams in midair or on shared displays. Then it grew into something deliberate. He started setting aside time each day, carefully breaking down physics, biology, and engineering into concepts that could survive translation without losing their meaning on the way across species.
He never called it a classroom, as it wasn't the same as the classroom he had back on Earth. The Eridians didn’t seem to need the idea of one, but the pebbles still came all the same to learn.
Bee would often pass by the beach and find him mid-explanation, hands moving as he described gravity in a way that made even alien biology feel connected to it. Rocky would hover nearby, occasionally correcting terminology or adding context Ryland hadn’t considered. The two of them had developed a rhythm, Ryland speaking in human logic, Rocky refining it into something Eridian intuition could hold onto.
Meanwhile, Bee had built her own quiet place in this new world.
She spent her days sketching and painting, capturing Earth not as it had been, but as it lived in memory. Forests she had never walked through but could imagine from descriptions, cities she had only seen through recordings, faces of people long gone or far away, preserved through stories Ryland sometimes shared when the weight of distance settled too heavily on him.
The Eridians were endlessly curious about it.
Not in a way that felt intrusive, but careful, like handling something fragile and sacred at the same time. They asked questions while she worked, watching as she drew clouds and oceans and the strange human habit of building upward instead of outward. She helped them document it all, translating Earth’s history into something they could understand without flattening it.
It gave her a strange sense of purpose, not survival anymore just a small reminder of Earth.
And then there were evenings.
Evenings when the light across the alien ocean softened into something almost familiar, and the four of them would walk along the shoreline where land met water in a way that didn’t quite obey Earth’s rules. The sand, or what functionally replaced it, shifted slightly underfoot, warm and faintly luminous in places where microscopic life reacted to their movement.
Ryland walked, still animated even after a full day of teaching, talking through ideas he couldn’t quite let go of. Bee would drift beside him, listening half the time and letting the rest of the conversation wash over her like background noise.
And always, just a little farther ahead, were Rocky and Adrian.
Bee had noticed the two of them, the way they moved together.
Not in the human sense of closeness that demanded labels or definitions or expectations, but something steadier than that. Rocky and Adrian didn’t look at each other the way humans did when they were trying to understand or be understood. They simply were together, as if the space between them had long ago been agreed upon and no longer needed negotiation.
Adrian would adjust their pace without being asked when Rocky slowed. Rocky would shift direction without hesitation when Adrian changed course. There was no distance that needed closing, because there was never any doubt it should be closed in the first place.
Familiar.
Like two beings who had chosen each other so consistently, so quietly, that it had stopped feeling like a choice at all and started feeling like gravity.
Bee slowed her steps a little, watching them as they moved along the shoreline. The oceanlight reflected off Rocky’s carapace , and Adrian’s presence beside him felt almost like an echo made visible, different, but inseparable.
It was romantic in a way Bee didn't know how to translate it into words, but in a feeling.
It was something older than that. Something more deliberate.
A lifetime of choosing, repeated so many times it had become instinct.
Behind her, Ryland was talking again, probably explaining something about stellar evolution to no one in particular, and Bee realized she had stopped listening.
Because something about the way Rocky and Adrian moved together, simple, unspoken, unwavering, had lodged itself quietly in her thoughts.
Just like Bee, Ryland had thought a similar thing.
Ryland had handled a lot of impossible problems in his life.
Astrophage, interstellar travel, first contact with an alien species whose entire communication system was built on sound patterns he could barely distinguish at the beginning. Teaching physics across biology that should not have been compatible with human understanding. Surviving the end of Earth as he knew it and then somehow continuing anyway.
None of that compared to this.
Because this…this was personal.
And personal problems did not come with equations that behaved properly.
He was still in the middle of packing up after his class when Rocky approached, his claws crunching underneath the soft sand.
The beach was quieter now, the last of the pebbles having drifted out in their calm, curious way, still processing whatever chaos Ryland had just tried to turn into comprehensible physics, floating displays dimmed, notes hung in the air like half-finished thoughts waiting to be put away.
Ryland, however, looked like he had forgotten how to put himself away.
“Grace,” Rocky chirped, grabbing Ryland's attention.
Ryland didn’t look up right away. “Hey, Rocky. Class went okay, right? I think I finally got them to understand gravitational curvature without using the word ‘spaghetti’, which, honestly, I’m calling that a win.”
“You are producing distress posture,” Rocky observed.
“I’m not distressed.”
Rocky made a soft clicking sound, subtle, but clearly skeptical.
Ryland sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m… thinking.”
Rocky moved closer, hovering in that careful way he had when he was trying to be helpful without accidentally making things worse. “Humans think loudly. You are thinking louder than usual.”
“That is not a measurement.”
“It is observation.”
Ryland let out a short laugh despite himself, then ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I deserve that.”
Rocky tilted slightly. “What is problem source, question?”
Ryland hesitated. That was the thing. He couldn’t exactly explain it in the language he normally used with Rocky. Not in the calm and clinical way he taught Rocky about relativity, no this was more personal and emotional. Something he had a feeling Rocky wouldn't understand.
After a moment, he leaned back against a sharp rock against the beach.
“It’s… after all this,” he said finally. “After the mission. After everything we’ve been doing. Bee and I can just… start our lives.”
Rocky’s head tilted slightly, not confusion exactly, something closer to active recalculation.
“Start lives,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Ryland said. “Like… properly. Not just surviving. Not just reacting. Just… living. Together.”
Rocky chirped softly, a questioning sound that didn’t quite translate.
Ryland looked at him. “You don’t get it.”
“I am attempting,” Rocky replied.
Ryland exhaled, then shook his head slightly like he was trying to organize the thoughts even for himself. “On Earth, there’s this thing humans do. When they decide they want to… commit. To each other. Officially. It’s called marriage.”
Rocky went still.
“…Marriage,” he repeated carefully, as if testing the shape of the word.
“Yeah.”
Rocky’s head tilted further. “Is this required for survival?”
“No,” Ryland said immediately. “No, it’s not about survival.”
“Then what purpose, question?”
Ryland hesitated again. “It’s… symbolic, emotional, social. It means choosing someone. Publicly. Permanently. Sort of.”
Rocky was quiet for a long moment, processing Ryland's words before he spoke up. “Humans make many rules for feelings.”
“That’s… not wrong,” Ryland admitted, a small and sheepish smile beginning to form on his face.
Rocky made a soft sound that might have been agreement, might have been judgment. “Bee already with you.”
“Yeah,” Ryland said. “That’s kind of the point.”
Rocky considered this again, more slowly now.
“Then why stress, question?” he asked. “Outcome already known.”
Ryland gave a small, helpless laugh. “Because it’s not exactly about the outcome. It’s about doing it right.”
He already knew, logically, quietly, in the part of his mind that had survived everything from astrophage to interstellar collapse, that Bee would probably say yes. After everything they had been through, after everything they had already chosen to be to each other, the answer felt almost certain.
But certainty didn’t make the moment easier.
If anything, it made it heavier.
Because the real pressure wasn’t the question itself. It was everything surrounding it, the timing, the words, the meaning he wanted to fit into something that small and fragile and human. He wasn’t worried about if she would say yes.
He was worried about whether he could make it feel like it deserved the answer.
“Define right,” Rocky said.
Ryland opened his mouth before he closed it again, trying to rack his brain on what exactly 'right' meant in this context.
“…That’s the problem,” he said quietly.
Rocky paused, then shifted slightly closer, as if this might physically improve the situation.
“You are inefficient, statement” he said gently.
Ryland couldn't help the amused but almost disbelieving laugh that left his lips at Rocky's blunt statement.
“Thanks.”
“But,” Rocky added after a beat, “you are consistently inefficient. Bee remains.”
Ryland snorted. “That is the least comforting reassurance I’ve ever heard.”
“It is accurate reassurance.”
Ryland rubbed his face again, then let his hands drop to his sides.
“I just want it to mean something,” he admitted. “Not just for me, but her also. Like… after everything we’ve been through, I want the next step to actually feel like a step. Not just… drifting into whatever comes next.”
Rocky was quiet for a long time, before he spoke up again. “Human customs are weird, statement.”
Ryland blinked in surprise. “Is that your conclusion?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
Rocky tilted his head. “You request understanding. I provide understanding.”
Ryland let out a breath, half laugh, half surrender.
“…Fair enough,” he said.
Rocky shifted slightly, as if satisfied with his contribution. “Still problem, question?”
Ryland looked toward the empty space where the class had been, then toward the shoreline, the waves crashing against the rocks to creating a calming sound.
“Yeah,” he said. “It still is a problem.”
Ryland paused, his thoughts immediately turning into a kind of internal chaos he didn’t bother to filter anymore.
'Okay, think. Just think. Normal human romance options. Where do people do this? House? No, too predictable, too plain, too “oh hey by the way, life-altering question while folding laundry.” Dinner? Absolutely not. That feels staged. That feels like a bad movie. I don’t want Bee’s entire emotional future to feel like a bad movie.'
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as if that might physically shake the ideas loose.
'It has to mean something. But not too much. Not weirdly dramatic. Not like I planned it for three years, because I did not plan it for three years…well, okay, I sort of did, but that’s not the point.'
His gaze dropped to the sand beneath his worn white Converse, the minerals shifting slightly with the tide’s distant pull.
And then it clicked. Of course, the beach.
The one place that never felt like it was trying too hard. The place they always ended up without meaning to, where conversation slowed down and everything felt just a little more honest than everywhere else.
Ryland let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as the idea settled into place.
'Yeah. That could work.'
“But I think I know what I’m going to do about it.”
The words finally broke through after what felt like a long silence. Ryland straightened slightly as he said it, as if speaking the decision aloud made it feel more real.
Rocky responded immediately, letting out a bright, chirping sound that lifted in pitch with what could only be described as enthusiasm. His limbs shifted in a quick, excited flutter, his version of what Ryland had come to recognize as “jazz hands.”
-
The sun, or rather, the biodome’s careful attempt at replicating one, was beginning its descent when Ryland finally decided.
The sky stretched itself into colors that felt almost familiar, echoing an Earth sunset in a way that was close enough to ache. Bands of gold and soft violet bled into one another overhead, while the ocean caught it all and fractured it into shifting shards of light with every small wave.
The rhythm of the day had been simple, familiar. Dinner at their small table overlooking the wide window of their home, the kind of quiet meal that didn’t need much conversation anymore. Leftovers, half-finished thoughts, comfortable silence stretching between them as easily as conversation once had.
They had just finished when Ryland, in what he tried very hard to make sound casual, had suggested a walk.
“Sunset’s good tonight,” he’d said. “We should… go outside. Stretch legs. Normal human behavior.”
Bee had raised an eyebrow at him across the table, clearly aware that nothing about the way he said it was remotely normal.
But she had smiled anyway.
“Sure, Let’s go.”
And so they had.
Ryland stood just a little too straight as they walked, his hand threaded with Bee’s as they made their way along the shoreline of the beach they had come to know almost by habit now.
Ryland stood just a little too straight as they walked, his hand threaded with Bee’s as they made their way along the shoreline of the beach they had come to know almost by habit now. The sand—soft, faintly luminous in places where microscopic life reacted to movement—shifted under their shoes in a rhythm that had long since stopped feeling unfamiliar.
Bee glanced sideways at him as they stepped out farther from the house.
“You’re doing the thing again,” she said.
Ryland didn’t look at her immediately. “What thing?”
“The thing where you look like you’re about to either solve a universe problem or spontaneously combust from anxiety.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re definitely panicking.”
“I prefer ‘strategically thinking at high intensity.’”
Bee hummed, unimpressed. “That’s worse.”
Ahead of them, the ocean moved in slow, steady breath-like motions, waves rolling in with a patience that felt almost intentional. The shore was quiet in the way it always was at this hour, everything softened by the fading light.
Ryland, meanwhile, was no longer walking in a straight line.
He was subtly correcting their path every few steps.
'Too far from the water. No, too close. Wait, that’s worse. Adjust again. That looks suspicious. Why does walking feel like advanced geometry—'
“Are you… navigating?” Bee asked suddenly, causing Ryland shut his eyes in embarrassment by the fact that Bee had noticed.
'I thought I was more stuble that that.'
“Yes,” Ryland said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy geography.”
“You are walking along a beach.”
“Yes.”
“In a straight line.”
“Emotionally, it is complex geography.”
Bee stopped walking. Ryland stopped too, far too quickly.
“Ryland,” she said.
“Yes?”
“You’re stressing me out.”
“I’m sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him in the fading light. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“That was too fast.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Yes it was.”
Ryland exhaled through his nose, the tension in him tightening instead of easing. “I’m fine.”
The ocean, unhelpfully, chose that moment to interrupt.
A wave rolled in higher than expected. Ryland stepped back on instinct, but it was already too late.
Cold water surged over his sneakers and up his legs in an instant, soaking through fabric and bone-deep nerve endings like it had been waiting for him specifically.
“OH—” he yelped, freezing mid-motion. “That is—why is that so aggressively cold—why does it have opinions—”
Bee burst out laughing immediately.
“Oh my god,” she said, bending slightly at the waist as she laughed. “Ryland, you’re soaked.”
“I can feel that,” he said through clenched teeth, though the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched Bee laugh, made the soaked fabric of his pants somewhat bearable. “It is extremely enthusiastic about the concept of moisture.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I am not shaking. This is controlled thermal response.”
Bee shook her head, still smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
And that was it.
That was the moment everything stopped spinning quite so fast in his head, because suddenly, he wasn’t trying to optimize anymore. He was just… there.
Ryland took a breath, then another, to stop his racing heart.
Then, before his brain could rebuild its argument against the idea, he stepped forward, still standing in the edge of the freezing water, and lowered himself down onto one knee.
The ocean immediately climbed higher around him, as if trying to witness properly.
Bee blinked. “Ryland—what are you doing?”
He looked up at her.
And for once, he didn’t rush to fill the silence.
Behind them, far up the shore near a cluster of rocks, two aliens were absolutely not hiding very well.
Of course, Rocky and Adrian were watching.
Ryland swallowed.
“I’ve been trying to figure out the perfect way to do this,” he said, voice slightly uneven now.
Bee’s expression softened immediately, laughter fading into something quieter, more careful. “Ryland…”
“But it turns out,” he continued quickly, words spilling out now that he’d opened the door, “there isn’t one. Which is extremely frustrating for me because I really like systems that work properly and this is not a system and I kept overthinking it and Rocky kept telling me I was overthinking it which I already knew I was overthinking it—”
From the rocks came a very firm voice.
“You are overthinking it.”
Ryland blinked slightly in surprise by the familar voice of Rocky, followed by Adrian's hushed voice trying to tell Rocky to be quiet. Ryland shut his eyes for a brief second. “Thank you, Rocky.”
“You are welcome.”
Bee turned her head slightly, seeing Rock, not caring that he was clearly visible. “Is Rocky… coaching you right now?”
“Yes,” Rocky said.
“No,” Ryland said at the exact same time.
“He was previously worse.” Rocky added.
“Rocky!”
“I am observing improvement.”
Bee laughed again, softer now, hand covering her mouth.
Ryland dragged in a breath, forcing himself back on track before his entire nervous system collapsed.
“I love you,” he said, suddenly steadier. “And I don’t think I ever really stopped loving you. Even when everything was falling apart or we were just surviving or I was teaching alien physics to people who don’t have the same concept of ‘falling,’ I still knew I wanted this. With you.”
He reached into his pocket, fingers fumbling slightly as he looked for the xeonite ring Rocky had created for him to give to Bee.
“And also,” he added quickly, “I’m very cold, so if you could answer before I lose circulation that would be ideal.”
Bee stared at him for a beat.
Then she laughed, warm, disbelieving, full.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said softly.
“I’ve been informed.”
“You’re soaking wet.”
“Still aware.”
“And you’re on one knee in an alien ocean.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Bee stepped closer, stopping right before he shoes touched the water before he spoke up.
“Yes,” she said.
Ryland blinked. “Yes?”
He questioned, almost like he didnt hear her right the first time.
“Yes,” she repeated, smiling wider now, voice gentler. “Now get out of the water before you get hypothermia, you absolute disaster.”
Relief hit him so fast he almost forgot how to stand, he almost slipped backwards into the water as he scrambled up , Bee catching his arm before he could fully embarrass himself.
Behind the rocks, there was a small shift.
“Outcome: positive,” Rocky observed.
Adrian, quieter: “He nearly fell into ocean.”
“Minor complication,” Rocky concluded.
From the shoreline, Ryland drew Bee a little closer, a breathless laugh slipping out of him like he still couldn’t quite believe any version of reality had led him here. His hands were steady now, surprisingly steady, as he lifted the xeonite ring and guided it carefully onto her finger, making sure, absurdly, that it fit just right.
For a moment, he just looked at her.
The wind tugged gently at her curls, the fading light catching in them like gold threaded through shadow. The ocean behind her moved in slow, endless rhythm, and everything, every impossible thing he had survived, every light-year of distance, every equation and emergency and uncertainty, seemed to narrow down to this single point in time.
Ryland reached up then, almost instinctively, and cupped her face in his hands.
His touch softened as if he was afraid the moment might break if he held it too tightly. He leaned in and pressed a quiet, unhurried kiss to her lips.
When he pulled back, he didn’t move far.
His forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, the world behind them fading into the sound of waves and wind.
“I love you,” he said softly. Barely above a whisper. But certain. “I love you.”
Just loud enough for Bee to hear.
Though, judging by the very faint rustling somewhere behind them near the rocks, he had a feeling Rocky and Adrian probably had too.
Bee let out a soft laugh, warm and slightly breathless. “I love you too,” she said, smiling against him. “Even though you can be kind of a dork.”
Ryland huffed a quiet laugh, something between disbelief and affection, finally pulling back just enough to look at her properly again. “I’ll accept that. That’s fair.”
Bee giggled, still holding onto him like she had no intention of letting go anytime soon.
“Come on,” she said gently, squeezing his hand. “Let’s get you warm.”
He blinked at her. “I am not that cold.”
“That's the first sign of hypothermia."
“…Okay, that one’s fair.”
She laughed, already tugging him back, away from the water. And just like that, they started walking again, hand in hand, leaving the shoreline behind them as the light slowly faded into evening.
Behind the rocks, there was a small shift.
Rocky watched them go, then nodded once, satisfied.
“Human romance,” he said thoughtfully. “Confusing. But effective.”
[ ✩ 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙞𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨! :3 ✩ ]