#tickle fic

[cocoa-critter]

Don’t look at me.

BLOODYMARY DOODLE YEAAAAAAAH

[ticklecouplefr]

"I might stop if you cry"

I hope she managed to cry after that, or else it took a very long time...

[harringtonsslvt]

୨ৎ I THOUGHT THAT I WAS DREAMIN' (WHEN YOU SAID YOU LOVE ME)

⤷ summary: ryland likes to stay up. you like to keep him company. ⤷ tags: ryland grace x reader, fluff, 1.5k words ⤷ prompt: "literally if u wreck ryland dead i’ll buy u flowers <33" ⤷ author's note: literally no one asked but i love frank ocean

"yeah." you laugh before he's consumed by his own anxious thoughts. "i'd like that."

"okay." he whispers, a promise splashing in the cold air.

"okay." you echo as his hand circles your waist, thumb brushing over your hipbone, guiding you to his seat like a fiery lantern in the darkness.

it strikes you as intriguing, the way ryland grace is undoubtedly a night owl. his ability to stay up for hours past midnight, pondering over his scientific discoveries is both admirable and incomprehensible to you.

late in the night, you're up for a cup of water, and a quick trip to the bathroom. light radiates from ryland's workspace, constant in the way the earth circles the sun. gentle clinks and clatters echo where he researches deep into the night.

he tries not to wake you. you wake anyway.

you don't mind. not even a little. you like watching him work through your bleary, half-awake eyes. it's silent, and peaceful. therapeutic, even.

he doesn't notice when you peek through the gap, the lights of the hail mary illuminating his silhouette with a golden glow. the blonde strands sit on top of his head, shimmering like a halo.

it becomes something akin to a ritual: you'll pull on a pair of cotton socks so your feet don't snag on the floor. gliding along the surface, the occasional beep from machinery causes your heart to jump.

you do find it hard to make up new excuses for the growing dark circles under your eyes, however, and though you know ryland wouldn't mind having a late-night lab partner, it's obvious that he would usher you to bed immediately, caring for your well-being far more than his own.

sometimes, the sound of ryland's soft snoring drifts into your ears.

you'd grab a blanket, sneaking into the laboratory, skipping past the part of the floor that always creaks, and place a blanket on top of ryland's rising and falling breaths. you'd always take his crooked glasses off of his face, stifling a giggle when you see the trail of transparent drool at the corner of his mouth.

you don't do it every day. not at first, at least.

but these visits become increasingly common, until you spend hours sitting cross-legged outside ryland's door, drowsy and fatigued and still, unable to look away.

you spend half the time thinking about how nicely his glasses frame his face, and the other half wondering how his ears never seem to hurt from the temple tip digging deep into his flesh.

when he glances up, you duck. your presence probably doesn't go unnoticed, though: you can tell by the way he's smiling at the now empty crack of the door.

you feel ashamed, somehow. like you're intruding, cutting through the quiet, cool atmosphere of the ship and the matchless bond between ryland, and his beloved molecular biology.

tonight is no different. you're on one of your late night treks when a shadow hovering in the hallway stops you dead in the tracks.

"i've seen you. watching." it says. scrutinising, but not commenting on the way your throat lumps nervously when you swallow.

"sorry," you say. "did i bother you?"

"no, no." ryland steps forward into the light, and his face is illuminated- he's smiling, like the thought of you having the ability to pester him in the middle of the night is laughable.

"so- um." you fidget with the ends of your hair, messy and tangled from slumber. "i guess i'll go back-"

"wait!" ryland says quickly. too quickly. "do you want to... maybe stay up with me?"

you realise that he's given this some thought, the spark of eagerness in his eyes giving him away. he's scared, nervous. like the thought of you rejecting him and going back to sleep would kill him.

"yeah." you laugh before he's consumed by his own anxious thoughts. "i'd like that."

"okay." he whispers, a promise splashing in the cold air.

"okay." you echo as his hand circles your waist, thumb brushing over your hipbone, guiding you to his seat like a fiery lantern in the darkness.

ryland's lap acts as your seat, his right arm draped over your waist. barely there, but pulling you gently backwards so you ease into him.

you can sense his heart beating at the back of your spine. you're too exhausted to watch whatever he's doing, but your fingers tinker with the small hairs on his arm, trailing where his blueish veins are visible.

you move down to his fingers. they're smooth. heavy. you trace the warm lines of his palms down a path and the the body behind you suddenly goes very still.

you can hear ryland's pulse patter faster, and faster, until his heart is racing. you keep going, painting paths along his hand and he flinches. you feel a shaky inhale travel from his stomach across his torso.

he's ticklish.

suddenly, you're wide awake. but you don't want to inconvenience him any more than you already have, so you muffle a giggle into the soft sleeve of your pajama top.

"what's so funny?" ryland looks at you. you don't miss the traces of pink at the tip of his ears.

"nothing." you attempt to school your facial expressions into neutrality.

he knows that you know. he lands a soft squeeze at the side of your stomach where his hand rests, making you yelp. you're too drained to retaliate, so you let it go, and he lets it go.

you drift off, soon after, to the gentle rhythm of ryland's steady heart, and the incessant growling of the spaceship.

you don't notice when a blanket is wrapped around you, nor when a certain scientist presses a soft kiss on the top of your head.

it's a shame ryland never wakes up in the morning, though.

despite how understanding you are to his tendency to work into the small hours, you can't bear his insistence to stay in bed for "five more minutes". it's gone on for a full hour.

you can't imagine how he finds such comfort in the bumpy mattress, and the endearing silence from the night before has eviscerated in response to his unintelligible grumbles and protests, causing you to descend into a type of indescribable rage.

"ryland." your patience is long gone. "i need help with the centrifuge setting."

he doesn't respond.

you swear under your breath.

and now, the fucker decides to look you dead in the eye, awake and all, and utter the patronizing word.

"language."

"are you- oh my god- you're kidding." it's hard to put into words the kind of aggressive frustration that overcomes you at the moment.

you take his unacceptable behaviour into account when you climb onto the lump of ryland on the bed, perching on his hips.

he blatantly ignores you.

"last chance," you say.

silence from the other end.

you shove your hands into ryland's ribcage through the blanket and he jolts, stuttering giggles bursting out of him. it's so cute, and uncharacteristically ryland, that you can't help but coo at him. he blushes at the sound, writhing under your touch.

his movements are slow and clumsy, and lethargic, and his lack of sleep does nothing to help. he squeezes his eyes shut like he can shut out the feeling, but pries his eyelids open the second your fingers travel to the middle of his stomach.

"noho," he sniffles, a persistent smile tugging at his lips. "nohot thehere, plehease."

"and why should i listen to you?" your fingers dart under the blankets, then under his shirt, stopping for anticipation. a pair of blue eyes widen in response. "you never listen to me."

ryland pouts- pouts and your heart melts at the sight. it only intensifies the need that gnaws at you, though- the need to tickle him within an inch of his life.

you begin to trace patterns over the soft skin of his stomach and his laughter hitches when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. he's giggling now, really giggling, a wheezy, choked sound that erupts out of him.

"yohu arhe soho dehead." the words come out stuttering and slurred through hiccups and it's mean, you know that, but you can't help it- you giggle at his ridiculous state. the redness on ryland's ears migrates to the apple of his cheeks, swirling patches of pink living on the surface of his skin.

"are you gonna get up?"

ryland doesn't respond. wow, he's persistent.

"you really want me to tickle you, don't you?"

ryland stares at the ceiling, an unwilling giggle bubbling up his throat. you take the bottom of his chin between your fingers and tilt his face so he's looking at you.

he flushes a crimson shade, and you pinch his cheek. he's so fucking cute. you press sloppy kisses over the soft skin of his neck, and he shrieks right into your ear.

"ryland!" you scold. "are you trying to make me deaf?"

"sohorry- i'hm sohorry- noho, DOHON'T!" his rambling apologies do nothing to deter you when your thumbs latch onto the crease of his hipbone, rubbing tiny circles and he squeals. he's batting at your fingers uselessly, and his usual strength has somehow evaporated.

"and what have we learnt today?" you smile as you emerge victorious.

"ih'll gehet uhp nehext tihme!" ryland's trying to speak through his broken giggles, and the sight is so amusing to you that you land a few extra pokes on his torso. he twitches at each one, his face crinkling in mirth.

all your effort's gone to waste, though. you're still sleepy from the night before, and when ryland reaches up to hug you, your back tightly pressed against his chest on the bed, you fall into unconsciousness almost immediately. the centrifuge lies on the bench, long forgotten, and it beeps in protest.

this, too, becomes a ritual after your late nights: ryland's refusal to rise, your half-hearted attempts to wake him, and the way you inevitably end up fast asleep with him anyway.

neither of you acknowledge that this is a weak excuse to feel close to each other; nor when you’re pressed up against the warmth of ryland's arms, it finally feels like home.

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[cacoonedmoonworm]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CAN YOU MAKE A FIC ABOUT SIMON GILLS OR SOMETHING?? (Like the art you just made and I just love that I’d love to see a fic about it)

Itchy Gills

𖥔 YES YES OF COURSE! Thank you for reaching out <3 I didn't know if you specifically meant with like the q-tips in the drawing so I added them in anyway! This was super fun to write but i struggle with Simon hard ngl! Ive read so many fics and hics about to characterize him i found it so hard to commit to one I think lol! Also this fic got away from me, sorry its on the longer side and i feel like it may be a bit word-y? But i hope you still enjoy it! 𖥔

𖥔 Slight spoilers for both movies and book! 𖥔

Summary: This ask was based off of this little doodle/character sheet I did of Simon! Simon is having gill problems and Grace offers to help!

Lee!Simon/ Ler!Grace/ Rocky is just there fr

Word count: 4,315

“Are you like, okay?” I ask Simon. For the last eight minutes, yes, I kept track; he’s been scratching at his middle. At first I didn't even notice; we were sitting watching some random movie, and then I heard his fidgeting. And then he would stop, then scratch again. 

We haven’t known each other long. Only a few months have passed since we scooped his soggy, blood-covered butt out of space, and we’re still getting used to each other's constant company.

“Oh—uh yes. Sorry.” I watch as his hand drops to his lap as he refocuses on the screen of the little laptop. Only moments later I see him try and rub at his side again. I can tell he’s trying to be silent after alerting me to his itching.

“Okay. What's wrong?” I sigh with a grin. He looks up at me again but continues his scratching.

“Nothin’. Just itchy.” His eyebrows furrow together as he moves his hand to the other side of his torso and starts scratching more.

“Very itchy, statement.” Rocky adds from across the ship. “Annoying.” Simon rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Yeah…you’ve been doing that for minutes on end. Clearly it’s not ‘nothin’.” I turn my body to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s my gills. They just itch. I don’t know," he mumbles as he pulls his hand away but then starts moving his elbow back and forth against his side. I stifle a laugh at the shimmying motion he makes, and he flicks his eyes to glare at me.

“Sorry, sorry!” I hold my hands up in defense. A frown makes its way to his face as he goes back to using his nails. 

“It just won’t stop.” He grimaces while shifting uncomfortably, rubbing his back against the pillows under him. Although he’s never let me touch his gills, I do know they wrap around his back.

“Doooo you want me to take a look~?” I know my voice comes out eager, too eager, and he frowns in my direction again. Sue me, the man’s got gills. What scientist wouldn’t want to have a little look? 

I’ve asked before and have gotten hard “no”s in response, but I haven’t given up yet! I can help but be curious about how he ended up like this.

“Is good idea. Help Simon make less itch noise.” Rocky’s voice has a hint of annoyance to it as Simon just huffs again. They both have become almost like bickering siblings over time. Although a little bumpy at the start, Simon and Rocky's dynamic has become very entertaining.

A giant smile grows on my face as I do my best at giving another grown man puppy eyes. He frowns more, staring, but keeps shifting side to side against the pillows. Shame be damned, I even clasp my hands together like I’m praying and bat my eyelashes at him. 

“God, fine. Stop. This is sad to watch.” He relents, grumbling with a sigh.

“Yesss!” I quickly get up and reach a hand out to Simon to pull him up and towards the lab. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I, of course, put on gloves and sterilize everything. I have a little cart full of supplies I may need placed right next to me; I can’t be too prepared. I’ve been waiting to get a proper look at Simon’s mutations the moment he got on this ship, and it’s finally happening! The man won’t let me touch him in general, so this moment is great progress!

I glance up at him, and although he doesn’t express much emotion in his face, I can tell he’s nervous. His shoulders are tight and turned inwards, which makes him look small while the end of his tail flicks nervously.

We’ve stationed ourselves on the table under Armondo, and Simon is perched on the edge, absentmindedly kicking his feet.

“Relax. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do before I do it.” I try to give a reassuring smile, but my excitement overshadows it. I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arm up and out.

"Okay," he breathes out. “I just don’t like people dissecting me.” Well, most people wouldn’t.

“I’m not gonna dissect you, I promise.” I reassure myself as I pull up the tee and gasp immediately.

“Ew.”

“Ew?” He repeats from behind his shirt.

“Ew but fascinating," I smile.

“Gee, thanks, Grace. That's really helping with my body image.” An amused chuckle leaves my lips at his comment.

Long strands of something that looks like mucus stick to his shirt, connecting to his gills. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice wavers a bit as he shifts on the table.

“Your…slimy?” 

“Slimy?” 

“Like sticky, I guess.” I pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head, careful not to get any more of the foreign substance on the rest of his body.

He looks down at himself and makes a face at the goo. 

“What is that shit?” He wastes no time reaching down to his opposite side and presses a finger into it and pulls away. It looks thick and coagulated and has a slight green hue to it. “Nasty.” 

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling your itching and rubbing probably made it come out.” I grasp his wrist and pull the mucus-covered finger closer to me. 

He suddenly shoots his finger in my face, and I jump back. “Ew dohon’t you dare!” I lean away from his finger as a smirk makes its way to his features.

“What? Just helping the scientist get a better view is all.” Evil snickers leave him as I bat his hand away. It's nice to see him be a bit playful.

“I don’t need your help, thank you.” I hold a hand out, and he gently places it into mine. I grab a towel to wipe off the gunk for him as he hums a thank you.

“Okay, I'm gonna touch them, alright?” Simon nods. The motion is small, almost reluctant. I move my hands towards his side and immediately notice how tense he is. Every muscle is tensed, like he's bracing for something painful.

"Hey," his eyes flick to mine. “You can tell me to stop.”

He stares at me for a second and then nods again. I don't think he fully believes me and that realization hurts more than I expect.

My fingers hover near the nearest gill. Up close, they're stranger than I expect. So thin. Delicate. Way more delicate than the rest of Simon. Just as I'm about to touch, they close. I pull my fingertips back, and they open again. Once again, I try to reach in, but it closes before I get the chance.

“Uh, Si? Could you stop doing that?” I pull back as they open again.

“I-I can’t help it.” He squirms. “It’s just happening.” 

I hum in thought for a moment. “Okay…try to cover your eyes.” 

“What?” He looks at me confused, and I can tell he’s getting anxious again. I know this is a big ask for him; he’s quite vulnerable right now, and asking, ‘Hey, could you also make it so you can’t see me, either?’ is going to be hard for him.

“Simon, you can trust me. I’ll stop when you say so, okay?” His eyes squint at me, like he can't quite tell if I'm lying.

“Okay.” And he hesitantly reaches his hand up to cover his eyes. I glance down and see his body has instinctively closed his gills once more. He’s clearly bracing himself for whatever I’m about to do, but I stay quiet and still. Slowly I see them flutter open again as he relaxes and I reach down to hook a finger underneath the lowest gill on the side without an arm, pulling it open slightly.

I flinch as an honest-to-god screech rips itself from Simon's mouth, but I keep my finger latched on. I hold as still as possible, slowly glancing up to Simon’s face. He looks just as shocked as I am but with a smile plastered across his face.

"Uhhh, Simo—“

“Second human okay, question?” I hear Rocky frantically ask while scuttling down the hull. See, Rocky does care as much as he says he doesn’t.

Before I can ask or respond, soft, quiet giggles start spilling from Simon’s lips. His hand is firmly latched on my own but not moving or pushing, just holding it still. His other gills tighten, and I feel the pressure as the one I’m touching tries to do the same.

Rocky has made it to us and has climbed next to Simon, on the side I’m currently touching. He clicks and taps his leg.

“Simon ticklish, question?” 

Oh. Ohhhh.

My finger twitches, and he lets out a squeak with more laughter. I realize this is the first time I've seen a smile this big on him. It completely changes his face. Usually Simon looks worn out. Guarded. It's like he's waiting constantly for something bad to happen. Now he's laughing so hard he can't hide it. The sight sends a weird flutter through my stomach. I decide that's probably just relief.

“GRAHACE! I-I dohon’t knohow AH—WHAHAhat tohoho dohoho!” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head rapidly.

“Um, just try and hold still so I can at least get a look inside.” A bewildered smile grows on my face, and I grab a little flashlight and hold it up close to the opening.

“Oh gosh. Simon…” It looks extremely gunked up in there. 

“Very bad.” Rocky leans close, clicking more to get a better look. “Why leaking, question?”

“WHAHAhahats wrohohong?” His body starts to twist and pull itself away from me. 

I remove my finger, leaning away as my mind races.

“Do the gills on your neck itch too?” I question as Simon takes in deep breaths. I peel off the dirty gloves and start putting a new pair on.

“Yeah, buhut not as muhuch as these ones.” He gestures to his ribs and sighs. “Why?”

“It is, like, very very clogged and congested in there.” I say while trying to think of theories and remedies at the same time. “How long has the itching been going on?”

He looks away. “Twenty-three days.”

“...You counted?”

"Yes."

“Simon! Why didn’t you say anything!?” I point an accusing finger at him. I really thought he would have trusted something like this with me at the very least.

“It’s my first time with gills; I don’t know what’s considered normal!” He scoffs.

I guess he has a point.

“Do you feel sick, like a head cold or anything?” I reach up and feel his lymph nodes for any swelling. His pulse pitter-patters against my hands as I feel around his flesh, careful to avoid his gills on his neck. I notice how his eyes shut and he shifts his chin up more. 

“Not at all.” He looks back up at me with worry, eyes blinking. He sure doesn’t sound nasally or anything.

“Open your mouth for a sec.” He hesitates but does as he’s told. As much as I want to take a look around the mutated parts, I decided now’s probably not the best time. I hold his tongue gently out of the way with a finger while shining the flashlight at the back of his throat. 

“No redness or swelling, and I don’t see mucus running down the back of your throat either.” Crap, I was really hoping a simple cold would be the problem. At least it would have been an easy fix, but now I don’t know what to do.

“Disgust. That happen to humans, question?” Rocky settles himself next to Simon, a claw resting on his thigh, I'm assuming in comfort.

“Yeah. All that stuff is connected in human bodies, so it was very possible that could have been it…but I don’t think it is. You don’t look sick or sound sick.” I pull my fingers from his mouth with a sigh. I take a few steps back and start to pace in a circle.

I need to think about this from a different angle. Simon isn’t really a human anymore, biologically speaking. What would cause just his gills to get congested? No. He is human. I think that’s the issue.

I feel Simon staring. Not glancing but staring. I've learned the difference. Most people look but Simon studies you. It's like he's trying to solve a puzzle that nobody else can see. Solve you.

He starts to scratch at his sides again, getting the substance on his hand. I walk back over to him and stand still in thought for a moment.

“Stop that.” I swat at him, and he grumbles with a frown. 

“Hm. I have at least a theory and a possible solution.” I take his hand and wipe it off again, scrubbing under his nails.

“Let’s hear it. Not much else we can do.” He looks away and into his lap. 

“I think it’s because you're not actually using your gills.” His eyes quickly meet mine again. 

"Yes, I do? I breathe through them, too, along with my face holes.” I smile a bit.

“No, no. You're not using them as gills. Like in water or, for instance, a blood ocean.” He raises an eyebrow. “If you were in some sort of liquid, the constant filtering would keep your gills clean and free of debris. You don’t have the chance to do that, so it gets all goopy in them. Bodily mucus that normally would build up would wash away, keeping bacterial and fungal growth in check and such. On top of that, dead skin cells and environmental debris could also cause irritation, leading to infection.” I try my best to explain to them.

“But how come I haven’t had any difficulty breathing?” 

“Like you said, you’ve just been only breathing through your face holes instead.” I slip off a glove and press it to his forehead. Yeah, I think he’s warm. I grab a thermometer and hand it to him. 

“Under your tongue, please.” He complies, his eyes crossing as he stares down at the thermometer in his mouth.

He looks ridiculous. Kinda of cute, actually. 

…

Anyway—

“Good theory. Make sense.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at Rocky’s praise, hoping it comes up my expression form my previous thoughts.

I hear a beep and pull it from his mouth. Yep. He’s got a fever. 

“Well… I think it confirms at least some of my theory. You got a fever. I have a feeling your gills are infected.” 

“Bad bad bad.” Rocky anxiously taps his claw against the table, noticeably shifting closer into Simon's side.

“What can we do?” Simon’s voice shakes slightly.

“Well, Armondo will give you the best antibiotics he has, and we’ll try to clean out as much as we can.” I walk over to grab some supplies from a nearby closet and then a cup of lukewarm water.

“How are we gonna do that?” He calls after me with a frown.

I walk back up and show him a container of Q-tips with a sympathetic look. 

He glares down at the supplies, then glances up at me. “I don’t—is there another way?” I see a smile start to fight his way into his lips as he hugs himself.

“I don’t think so, Si.” He scoots away from me. I really don’t want to do this either, even if I find it very scientifically interesting and endearing on his part. I was hoping that when I finally got a good look at his gills, it would be his choice, not something he had to do. 

“Look. I know you know you're very sensitive there. The only way I’ll be able to clean all 12 of your gills out is if you sit still, and we both know you won't," I firmly try to say while sounding soft. “Rocky, I'm going to need your help with this.” 

Simon’s head flings to Rocky. “Wahait, wait! Why don’t we juhust see if the antibiotics work?” He pleads, now shifting away from Rocky too.

“If we don’t clean it out, it will stay infected.” He looks giddy and desperate and nervous at the same time.

“Why can’t we—“ 

“Simon. “If the situation gets worse, I don’t know how or where it could spread through your body. You're a medical phenomenon, and there is only so much I can do with the knowledge we have.” I reach out and pull his head to my chest with a chuckle. “I can’t let you die on me because of an infection.” I can't fathom losing him now just after I found him. Maybe it sounds selfish, but after thinking I was never going to see and touch another human being ever for the rest of my life, I'm desperate to cling to him with everything. He says I saved him, but I really think he saved me too.

I smile despite myself when his fingers curl into my shirt. Such a small thing, barely a tug. But Simon almost never reaches for people first with affection. The fact that he's doing it now makes my chest feel strangely warm. I pretend not to notice the small action. He’d probably let go immediately if I pointed it out.

“I know.” He mumbles into me as I stroke a hand through his hair.

“How Rocky help, question?” Rocky stands up and stretches a little.

"You're going to have to hold him still. He’s gonna squirm a lot.” Simon huffs in response but doesn’t deny it. “Lay back on your side. We’re going to do the one on your left. You won’t be able to fight me as easily.” 

He’s gone silent but does as he’s told. Rocky stands over him, pressing his carapace into his torso below his gills, effectively pinning him. A claw grabs onto Simon's hand to hold it still while his other holds his shoulders. His back is pressed into me; he’s facing away from me.

My eyes wander to his back and tail. Fleshy spikes grow from his spine; they almost look like cartilage, but maybe firmer? And then there's his tail. I've never seen how it actually connects to his body until now. The spikes along his spine follow all the way down his tail until the end. 

His body really is amazing. 

Wait. Not like that.

…Scientifically.

…

Mostly scientifically.

I rip my eyes and now blushing face from his back and notice he’s started squirming already, and I see a grin pull at his features. His body trembles as I continue to prep my area. 

I grab a Q-tip, soak one end in the water, and get ready to start, but then I see Simon has closed his gills again. Right.

“Rocky, can you spare a hand to hold the flashlight? I’m going to need to hold his gills open.” Simon tensed up more at my words. I pass the light to Rocky before looking back at his gills.

“Yes. Right here, question?” 

“Yes, perfect!” But his gills have yet to open again. “I need you to calm down, Simon.” I giggle a little while looking over his side.

“I’m trying!” It comes out frustrated, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

But after a minute they don’t open. After 3 minutes they still haven't opened. We're unfortunately going to have to pry them open. I grab a pair of tweezers that are specifically rounded off at the end. I carefully slip it under the skin's fold, and Simon jerks hard with a squeak. I push it up, opening the flesh, and I’m once again looking at how horrible the buildup is. 

“Okay, I'm starting. Simon just…try your best?” I really don’t know what else to say.

I push the Q-tip in and start wiping across the filaments, careful to not press in hard or damage any tissue.

“EEEAHAHAA—WHAHAHAIT!!!” Simon screeches from below me. His legs are kicking out wildly already, shifting underneath Rocky.

“R-RYLAHAHAND—HA-NOHOhohooo *SNRK* EAHAHAHAHA—!!!“

I try to gather as much mucus as I can and scoop it all out at once. I pull out the rather large mass and place it aside, and what do you know? I can see white, pus-like substances mixed with the other goo. I knew it; he does have an infection. 

I grab another Q-tip as Simon is shrieking under me. I can actually see the pinkish red color of his insides now as I swipe across the flesh, gathering the last bits I can see. I think that should be good.

“FUHUHUCK RYLAhahand! EEK—WHAHAIT!!!”

 I pull back, and Simon heaves, going limp, and Rocky eases up a little. 

“Second Grace very loud. Very ticklish, statement.” Rocky comments and gets a groan from Simon in response.

“How was it?” His face is beat red, but I can feel a slight gust of air pushing through the gills I just cleaned. Thank goodness cleaning it out seems to be helping.

“Fucking terrible. What do you think?” he mumbles, and I watch as he shoves his face further into the table. 

"Okay—well, I'm going to start on the next one, okay?” I try and soothe as much as I can as I press into his side again.

“SHIHIHIT! I-IT TIHIhihickles—*snrk* nohohoHOHO—!” His tail started to thump against the table as Rocky scrambled to hold it down and out of the way. I pull away as the claw holding the light falters a little as Rocky struggles to keep Simon down without hurting him. I feel him twist as he rolls onto his back.

“No. Simon stop twisting over.” Rocky scolds while rolling him easily back over and pinning him on his side. 

“Actually, could you roll him on his stomach? I need to get to the parts that wrap around his back.” He trills out an acknowledgment while he starts wrestling with Simon again.

“NOHOHoho nohohot thehere—oof!” Rocky not-so-gently flips him over and sits on his lower back, and I feel air being forced through his gills as Rocky knocks the wind out of him. His tail wiggles wildly toward the end, where Rocky can't reach as his legs desperately kick out. I pull Rocky's claw back over to reposition the flashlight. 

"I'm sorry, bud.” I scrape some more at the filaments and pull the rest of the grunk out, careful to hold the skin open gently. 

I see and feel his body shiver beneath my hand. Goosebumps race across his skin, the reaction immediate. He lets out a squeal and arches his back as I hit a particular sensitive spot. His muscle jump as his tail gives another loud thump against the table.

“EEAHAHAHA AH—OKAYOKAY I-I NEEHEhehed AHA BREHaheak hahahe…hehe…” I chuckle, pulling away. 

I decide to test my luck and gently run a hand over his back. The tension doesn't disappear immediately. At first he lies there breathing hard and I finally feel his shoulders drop a little. His tail stops thrashing about and the muscles under my hand loosen one by one. Like he's realizing that I'm not actively torturing him anymore. Simon lets out a sigh, sinking back into the touch. I avoid the spines running down his back but lightly draw my nails over the skin on either side. 

After a moment I ask, "Ready for round two?”

"No," but he nods yes, relinquishing his hand to Rocky again and bracing himself.

I start the process all over again with the others.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

I finish wiping clean his skin, feeling the ridges of his gills along his middle. He's still squirming and giggling slightly, but I can tell he's drained. Rocky climbs off of him and pulls him upward into my arms.

I wrap my arms around him before he can decide otherwise. Simon practically melts. Just enough for me to feel the tension slowly draining out of him. His forehead bumps against my shoulder. For a moment he simply sits there breathing. Safe and exhausted. I run a hand through his hair. Then again and again. Each pass seems to pull another ounce of tension out of him. I see Rocky do the same and rub soft circles into his shoulders, letting out soft hums.

"I'm sorry, Si.” I chuckle but only get a weary sigh in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I'll live…I think.” I feel him snake his arms around my middle, pulling me closer, and I can't help the blush that dusts the tips of my ears. Simon's hair is sticking up everywhere, curls messy and tangled. It would have been funny if it weren't weirdly adorable. 

“Y-you know we still have to do the ones on your neck, right?” He pulls away just enough for him to stare into my face. His eyes are glassy with tears and he's got this shocked and pitiful expression. I guess he forgot he had the other gills. 

“Okay. Let's do those ones tomorrow. How's that sound?” His body relaxes back into me with another sigh. “But you can't back out; they need to be done, Simon." I get just nods in response. I card a hand through his thick hair, hoping it soothes his nerves.

"We're also probably going to have to do this regularly. Like a monthly cleaning type of thing.” He tenses up again. "It's just going to get infected again, but hopefully, if we keep up with it, cleaning regularly should be quicker and easier on you than a ‘deep clean’ like today or tomorrow."  

“Okay.”

“And you have got to tell me if you start itching or hurting at all in the future! I don't want a scare like this again.” He squeezes my middle more and I notice his tail sway softly from side to side.

“I promise, Angel."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦

𖥔 Sorry its on the longer side, hope you liked it and it's what you were talking about!𖥔

[awkward---as---hell]

Cosmically Familiar

Summary: Three years into the journey back to Erid, Rocky has become familiar with all the things that once made Grace seem strange: his hands, his face, his habits, his emotions—and most of all, his laughter.

When Grace starts spiraling over his dwindling food supply, Rocky decides it is his duty as best friend and crewmate to cheer him up by any means necessary. What begins as laughter-provoking antics slowly turns into something deeper: a quiet reflection on joy, survival, and the strange ways two species can feel connected across the stars.

Words: 4445

Dynamics: Lee!Grace, Ler!Rocky

A/N: This was supposed to be a short writing exercise on how to describe laughter, but then it somehow led me to introspecting about the universe, as one does lol.

———

I don’t completely remember what was running through my mind when my ship’s cameras and the petrovascope spotted another ship in the Tau Ceti system. A ship that, by the looks of it, was alien-made. My thoughts were probably something along the lines of ‘holyshitholyshitholy–’ and ‘oh thank fuck I’m not alone anymore’.

Thinking back, it probably wasn’t wise to just assume they’d be friendly, and I didn't even consider what they would look like. I was too focused on communicating and connecting our ships so we could meet. 

All of which is to say, I was totally unprepared when we were right in front of each other, and I couldn’t help the scream that came out of me. Grace looked like nothing I had ever seen or could ever imagine. He was so tall, standing upright on his two limbs while only having two others instead of three. And his whole body was covered with flesh while the harder material was inside. It’s like if you turned an Eridian inside out. 

Don’t even get me started on his strange habits as well. Using the same orifice to talk and eat? Ugh. 

He was freaky. Well… the keyword being was. Things are different now. 

His fleshy hands aren’t strange anymore–they’re the hands that fly the Hail Mary, do complex calculations and big science, and make chains (many many chains). 

Hands that bred taumoeba. Hands that pulled me back to safety. 

And his body isn’t strange anymore either. It’s just his body, that does crazy dangerous EVAs, that has a beating heart that proves he’s alive, that shows love through a hug or friendly pat. His face and his mouth are now just his identity. A window to his emotions: a smile to show joy, eyes that tear up when sad. 

Now, when I look at Grace and all the things that make him different from me, freaky is the word furthest from my mind. The only words I have now are… that's my best friend. Three years into our return trip to Erid, all the aspects that make up Grace have become familiar to me.

Most familiar of all is his laughter.

Ironic, considering how little of it I heard during our mission. There wasn’t much time for joking around, both hyper-focused on saving our species. But now, time is all we have. 

Between keeping ourselves busy and entertained, and learning more about each other, the opportunity to hear all the different ways Grace laughs has been plentiful. I think I have each one memorized. 

His chuckles are little more than a deep rumble in his chest, a sound almost meant for only himself. Soft, fond, and relaxed, they usually appear when he's recalling a time one of his students said something clever, or when he thinks I’ve said something funny accidentally. 

When he does manage to let slip some giggles, they sound fluttery, bubbling out of him in a continuous stream before boiling over into full laughter. I think most of the time they happen because he's trying not to laugh, as he’ll often duck his head or cover his mouth to stifle them. Maybe he's embarrassed—they’re much more high-pitched than his normal speaking voice, but I always find them adorable. They're reminiscent of the flute-like voices of eridian infants.

It’s particularly funny when Grace is surprised into amusement. He lets out sharp barks of laughter, sometimes accompanied by a quick clap of his hands or slapping his knee. It’s like he's so suddenly taken by hilarity it needs more outlets. 

It’s even more funny when Grace snorts. It happens rarely, and only when he's caught completely off guard, surprised into laughter that’s so deep and hearty it comes out his nose. I think it’s hilarious, not just the sound but because Grace gets so embarrassed by it—apparently even in human culture it’s a silly sound.

Perhaps the most rewarding is when Grace finds something really funny, like a joke I made (on purpose), or our silly banter, or even a dumb scene from one of his movies. His laughter comes from his stomach, loud and boisterous, and it makes his eyes water and squeeze shut, nose scrunching too. Sometimes it overcomes him so much that he has to hold onto something to keep upright, or wrap his arms around his abdomen. It’s like for a moment he feels completely safe and unrestrained, forgetting about the Hail Mary, the beetles, and the dwindling food. Instead there’s only happiness in its purest form—and it's one of my favorite laughs of his. 

But not my all-time favorite. 

My all-time favorite is the one he's making now, when I have him pinned to the floor of the ship, one claw digging into his middle and another two scribbling under his arms. The laughter that’s pouring out of him can only be described as cackles—loud, wild things interrupted by startled screeches and utterly beyond his control. 

“ROCKY! S-STOP IT!” he shrieks. I don’t have his arms pinned, so he's torn between trying to wrench my claws out from under them and slapping at any part of my xenonite suit-covered carapace he can reach.

“Mmm,” I trill in mock contemplation. “No. I don’t think you’ve had enough penance yet.” 

His head thunks against the floor in defeat. “Ngh–aHAH!” he tries to reply but he’s laughing too hard to get any words out. I am curious what he has to say though, so I move my hands from his armpits and instead trace around what he calls a ‘belly button.’ It still tickles him a lot, but less so he can actually get words out. 

The smile on his face is stretched so wide that it shows all of his teeth. He takes in a shuddered breath and chokes out between his giggles, “P-penance for what?!”

“You were moping. No moping allowed on the Hail Mary.” 

“Wha—but it’s MY ship!” he tries to protest but more giggles interrupt his speech. “Ehehe—I can m-mope if I want to!” 

I let out a chittery laugh at that. He can be so whiny. 

“Nope. Not allowed,” I reiterate. I use my fingers to skitter up and down his sides, making sure to tweak his bottom ribs whenever I reach them. It makes Grace arch his back and then flop back down with a cackle each time. 

In truth, this isn’t made to be an actual ‘punishment’. I mean, Grace was moping, that part's true. Just before I wrestled him to the floor he was looking over the Hail Mary’s food storage, doing some calculations with his face pulled into a frown and muttering to himself. Based on his calculations, the last few months of our trip will be difficult for him. Grace is worried. 

But I hate to hear him like that, and there’s nothing more we can do about the food anyway. So naturally, it’s my job as his crewmate/best friend to take his mind off it, cheer him up a bit. And if tickling him to pieces is the quickest way to accomplish that, well, then you really can’t blame me. 

It also gives me the opportunity to hear his loudest, silliest laughs, the kind he only does when he's forced to let go of his worries and submit to this playful stupidity. As an added bonus, all that laughter sends sound waves bouncing off my carapace, giving me the clearest image of Grace yet. Hey, I gotta get something out of this too, ok? 

Grace is shoving at me with both hands now, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in laughter. He's not strong enough to push me away even if he wasn’t laughing himself out of oxygen. 

“Gah! G-get offa me, doofus!” he manages between desperate gasps for air, each one collapsing back into laughter.

I hum a high, amused note, and pull back on the tickling a bit. I still use one hand though to poke randomly around his stomach, enough to keep him twitching. 

“Have you laughed all of your mopes out yet?” I ask teasingly. 

Grace drags in deep breaths now that he has the chance, but each one has a leftover giggle or two tacked onto the end. He flops an arm over his chest and I feel him sag into the floor. 

“Ugh…” he wheezes. “You’re… the worst…”

I dig sharply into his sides. “Answer the question.” 

He yelps and his hands fly down to grab mine. “Ah! L-let me think, dang it!”

A few beats pass before Grace comes to a verdict. He crosses his arms, and schools his face into one of defiance—or at least he tries to. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that gives him away. 

“I think there’s one still rattling around in there,” he says, and oh, if I know a challenge when I hear one… 

“Is that so?” I reply. I grab his wrists and start to slowly raise them over his head. That cracks his defiant facade immediately, his eyes widening and a helpless smile spreading across his face. He starts tugging fruitlessly at my hold, and I think it’s that moment he realizes the situation he put himself in. 

“Wait wait wait! Rocky no! H-hold on!” he splutters. The second his arms are firmly over his head and there to stay, frantic, high-pitched giggles begin bubbling out. 

Mhmm, I quite enjoy this part. Grace is absolutely terrible with anticipation, a fact I love to take full advantage of. With one of my arms pinning Grace's wrists, it leaves my other two open to hover threateningly over his underarms and upper ribs.

“Don’t worry,” I say, my voice laced with sticky sweetness. “I’ll help you.”

I feel Grace's whole body try to flinch away, but I’ve got a strong grip on him as well as some of my weight pinning his hips down where I sit on top of him. 

“J-just hold on a second!” he cries, his eyes unable to look away from my wiggly, xenonite-covered fingers. Laughter is on the edge of each of his words. 

Slowly, I lower my wiggling fingers closer to his body. As I do, Grace's giddy, nervous giggling gets louder and more frantic, and his squirming increases tenfold. When I reach just the edge of his clothes and brush them gently—not even technically touching him—Grace bursts out into loud, belly laughter. 

“No no NO!” he screeches, and his legs kick out helplessly behind me. “S-stahahp it!!” 

I pull my hands away, and Grace goes back to desperate, sputtering giggles.  Hah, I can’t help but laugh along with him, his reactions are over the top and hilarious. 

“Wow,” I say around my own chirpy laughter. “You are so fucking ticklish, Grace.” 

I hear the blood rush to his face at that, and he tries to hide it in his arm. It’s a very subtle sound, one I only know to listen for because Grace explained that humans' faces flush when embarrassed.

‘Definitely sold yourself out there, friend,’ I think to myself.  

“You’re the most ticklish human ever, aren’t you?” I continue to tease. Grace lets out a growly whine that trails off into more desperate giggling. He tries clenching his teeth together, but it does nothing to stop the embarrassing sounds, instead making his laughter come out in a hissy sort of way around his teeth and the wide grin he's wearing. He starts shaking his head helplessly, already accepting his demise. 

Alright, time to stop teasing and get to the real deal. I drop both my hands to scribble his underarms and massage at his top rib. The reaction is explosive; Grace cracks into laughter so loud that he's absolutely glowing in my perception, every detail of his face and the playful torture he’s experiencing crystal clear to me. He even makes enough sound waves to illuminate every small detail of the room in my vision without my need to tap a claw or click a sound. 

“No—! R-rock—! Gah-ahAHAHA!” is all he can manage between his hysterical laughter before he peters out into silence. I can tell he's still laughing though—his whole chest is shaking and I can feel his stomach muscles convulsing beneath me where I have him pinned. His mouth is stretched into a wide grin and he takes in a breath here and there too, but no audible laughter follows it. Just his feet slapping the ground occasionally behind me. 

I really enjoy this type of laughter too. It’s not my favorite, but more so I just feel real smug anytime I manage to drive him crazy enough to laugh himself fresh out of sound. He even has a few tears leaking out of his eyes, and those are rewarding too. I’d much rather he leak from overwhelming mirth and laughter than from sadness and pain.

But the tears also signal that Grace is at his limit. I pull my hands away from his tickle spots and instead rub soothingly at his sternum, chasing away the last of the tingly feelings. 

Grace does his best to melt into the floor as the lingering titters fade away. He wraps one arm around his middle and rests the other one on top of my arm that’s rubbing his chest while he catches his breath. 

“Ohoho man…” he breathes. “I’m sohoho gonna get you b-back.” 

I hum a note. “Can’t. I’m not ticklish. Not like you,” I tease. That’s totally a lie, but not one Grace is strong enough to disprove, an advantage of our anatomical differences. 

We sit for a moment while he recovers until he finally props himself up on his elbows. 

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna have Mary toss you out the airlock. See how well you can tickle me from the vacuum of space,” he says with a grin. 

My hand stills on his chest, and I tilt my carapace. “You’d toss your best friend into space?” I ask, playing along. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods. He picks up the tool I use to weave xenonite that’s resting on the floor. I don’t use it much now, since I used almost the last of my xenonite stores to make my dexterous suit. (That probably wasn’t wise to do, but it’s worth it to be able to come into Grace's atmosphere completely and interact in this silly way.)

It also means that the tool, which I had brought to Grace's side to show him, has been sitting on the floor for a few weeks. Grace waggles the tool in front of me. “Place would be a whole lot cleaner without you leaving your stuff everywhere, don’t you think?” he teases, and draws his knee in to knock against my carapace. 

Well then. Seems the moping is gone and replaced with sass. Not quite what I was going for. 

I sing a low, jokingly offended note. 

“I see. Well, before you do that, there’s one spot I’ve never tried before. We should fix that, in the name of scientific discovery of course.” I slide off his middle and move down towards his socked feet, grabbing hold of just one ankle. 

Grace begins smiling immediately, and tries to tug his leg back. He's not using his full strength to do so, and combined with his smile I know he doesn’t actually mind this at all. We’ve never talked about it out loud, but I know we both think this silly, stupid kind of play is really fun. 

“Wait, wait! Maybe we can compromise,” he says, voice wobbly with the beginnings of laughter. “I don’t have to toss you out, just your stuff—AH!” 

He's cut off by me taking off his sock and swiping my fingers up and down the bottom of his foot. I was serious when I said I’ve never tried tickling here, and I regret that now because this is a really sensitive spot. Grace drops my xenonite weaver and falls onto his back again, laughter renewed. He's still trying to tug his leg away while the rest of his body is free to squirm now that I’m not on top of him anymore.

I only tickle him for a few seconds before stopping, given I already put him through the wringer before. When I stop, Grace throws an arm over his face while some lingering hiccupy laughs fade away. I’ve still got a hold of his ankle, though, and this time poke his largest toe. 

“Are these ticklish too?” I ask, genuinely curious. It’s already surprising he'd be ticklish in this area, since he literally walks on them every day. Humans are fascinating like that. 

Grace huffs a residual laugh and says “Maybe,” which I take as ‘Definitely yes.’

“Why are these ticklish but the ones on your hands aren’t?” 

He shrugs and looks down his body at me. “I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. “Might be evolution-based. You need your toes to walk, but you can live without fingers, so maybe it’s the body’s way of making you protect those more.” 

He pauses before adding, “I actually knew a guy once who’s missing six fingers—wha—?! H-hey!” He gets cut off by more giggles as I attempt to scribble at his toes. 

“I was talking!” he laughs. “Rude! Nahahah—ouch! Hey, careful!”  

I rip my hands away. “Sorry sorry sorry! Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, you just pinched me a bit. Your fingers are a lot bigger than human ones.” That’s true. It makes tickling this delicate area difficult. I wonder… 

I re-grip his ankle and slip my xenonite weaver over the suit-clad fingers on my other hand. The weaver is almost like a second skeleton, with braces hugging my forearm and hand. Delicate articulated prongs extend beyond each fingertip, tapering to points far finer than my own fingers could ever be so I can weave small strands of xenonite. With the tool powered down, however, they’re nothing more than slender metal finger extensions. 

Using a second hand, I grip his big toe and pull it back, stretching his foot and other toes, then hover my third hand wearing the tool over them. Grace understands immediately what I’m about to do because his eyes widen and his mouth opens to protest, but he’s too late. 

I dance the tips of the thin prongs at the base of his toes and in between them too, for good measure. This was a fantastic idea. Grace begins shrieking and yanking at his foot harder than ever before. It’s no use though, I have an iron-clad grip on him. 

“Holy—argh nohoho!” he practically screams. “T-thahat’s terrible!!” 

I chirp giggles along with him and decide to try something hopefully worse, scraping the prongs up and down the bottom of his foot in addition to his toes to see what happens. 

“FUCK!” Grace yells before being consumed by more screechy laughter. His whole body does a funny sort of roll, and his free foot starts kicking at me with surprising strength. It’s not enough to stop me, but it does actually make me stumble a bit.

I burst into laughter and it mingles in the room with his. Wow, this really makes him lose his mind if it gets him to actually curse. I’ll definitely be doing this again sometime—this is fun. 

Grace practically wails my name, the last note of it soaring to an impressive pitch. It’s time to stop. I don’t want to actually ruin the playful moment we’re having. I pull all my hands away and sit next to Grace, giving him the space to roll onto his side and pull his knees to his chest, catching his breath. 

“I ha-hate you…” he huffs weakly into his knees. Mmm, liar. 

Eventually his breathing slows and he uncurls himself. I move to sit beside his head with my legs tucked underneath my carapace. He always calls that position “loafing,” and when he cracks an eye open to glance at me, he huffs out a few chuckles. 

Feeling a sudden surge of fondness, and perhaps a tad bit of guilt, I use the weaver to stroke through Grace’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums a contented note and goes boneless under the touch, eyes slipping closed again.

“You done torturing me?” he asks sleepily. 

I hum a note myself, amused. “For today.” 

Grace smiles softly at that, eyes still closed. My amusement melts into something gentler. “Are you feeling better?” I ask, softer now. Sincere. 

He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Yeah…” he says, a smile still on his face. I sense some tension pulling at his brows, though. 

“It will be ok, Grace. We’ll work out a solution when we get to Erid. I promise.” 

He nods. “I know.”

We fall into a comfortable, companionable silence and stay like that for a while. Grace’s breathing returns to a slow and steady rhythm as I continue to brush the prongs through his hair, lost in my own thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” Grace asks softly. He looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep. 

I brush his bangs back and soothe them down. His hair is getting quite long. I like it, it makes it even more soft and fluffy. “I’m thinking about our theory.” 

“Which one? Panspermia?” 

“Mhm.” 

It’s something we talked about early on in our mission, when we discovered that the planet Adrian did indeed have life. A lot of life, actually, in the form of bacteria, amoebas, and other single-celled organisms. What are the chances of Earth, Erid, and Adrian all evolving life separately from one another? Life that uses the same basic machinery: DNA, ATP, familiar cellular structures, and, in some organisms, even mitochondria?

To me, it seems low. Possible, maybe. But low. Our three star systems are not that far apart, really. Yes, Earth and Erid are sixteen light-years apart, with Adrian somewhere between us, but that is close compared to the vastness of the galaxy. The Milky Way galaxy spans about 100,000 light-years. We’re practically roommates, if you consider the observable universe and its trillions of galaxies.

That’s where our theory comes in. Panspermia is the idea that life didn't just start all on its own on our planets. It came from somewhere else. Where? Who knows, but the theory is that billions of years ago some ancient life form “seeded” Earth, Erid, and Adrian with life by way of a comet/asteroid, or something. Then life did what it does: evolved over billions of years into different forms that seem completely different from each other, but share many similarities if you look small enough. Humans, Eridians, and astrophage. We may have done billions of years of evolution separately, but the point is that if you go far enough back on each of our branches, we’re joined by one common but ancient ancestor. 

We’re cousins. Very very very distant cousins, but family all the same. Or that’s what I like to believe. We don’t have real proof of this theory, but it makes me feel closer to humanity—closer to Grace. And it’s interesting to think about in these quiet moments of companionable space travel. 

“I used to think you were as different from me as two things can be,” I say. 

Grace smiles. “Oh? Was it the leaky space blob-ness?” 

I chuckle out a chord. “That was definitely part of it. But now…” 

“Now space feels a whole lot smaller, and we feel a whole lot closer,” he finishes for me. 

“Yeah.” 

He reaches up over his head and brushes his fingers against mine on the hand not combing through his hair, just absentminded touches. He likes to fidget while he thinks, and enjoys being close too.

“Isn’t it fascinating how both our species evolved to have laughter? I mean, that can't be a coincidence,” he says. It’s like he read my mind. That’s what I was about to bring up next. 

“It would be a huge coincidence, yes,” I say. “I think it's further evidence for our theory. That we’re connected.”

It’s not definitive proof in the slightest, barely a correlation. But I choose to believe it is. The universe can be terribly ugly, but there’s also so much beauty in it, so why couldn’t this one beautiful thing be true too? That the sounds of joy prove we’re connected, even light-years apart?

“Laughter connects the universe…” Grace says wistfully, his smile growing. “That’s a nice thought. I like it.” 

I like it too. I feel a deep warmth wash over me, a sense of happiness and belonging—and I’m still light-years from home. 

“I’m happy I evolved to meet you, Grace,” I say. “I’ve never had a friend like you before. Someone who understands me in ways I can’t explain, because I don't need to with you.” 

“And I’m so grateful I get to hear your laughter,” I add.

I hear that subtle rush again—Grace’s face flushing with shyness—and it makes me chuckle. I can’t see the color, but I trace a finger over what I know is his reddened cheek, just to let him know I’m aware of what’s happening.

Grace shoos my hand away playfully and huffs, embarrassed. 

“You're such a sap,” he says. “But… I’m happy I evolved to meet you too. I’m happy we get to laugh together.” 

———

We made it to Erid, and it’s good to be home. 

The last few months of our trip—and the first stretch of time on the ground too—were indeed difficult for Grace. His coma slurry and taumoeba shakes were enough to keep him alive while we figured out a solution. But just barely. 

Every day he slept more. His cheeks hollowed further. He smiled less. I stayed by his side through it all, diligently watching as he slept, thinking of the days where we talked about the universe and filled our ship with laughter. 

Those were dark times. But I’m so grateful they're behind us. 

Now, two years after we made it home, the scene looks quite different: My beloved Adrian and I are in Grace's biodome. It's stocked with plenty of nourishing food for him. His stomach is soft, his ribs no longer sharp beneath his skin, and his cheeks are rounded. He’s going to start teaching soon, and it’s the most excitement I’ve seen in him for a while. My Adrian says one of their dry, witty jokes, and Grace has to hold onto me to keep from falling over in laughter.

It’s a beautiful sound, and I hold it close to my hearts. I am so grateful I get to hear it again, and I know I'll hear it for years to come.

———

A/N: there we go! Hope you guys enjoyed! Here are a few questions that I'm curious what your guys answers are:

What do you think of Panspermia? It’s a real theory, that life on earth started because a life-containing asteroid crashed here. And if it happened to earth… perhaps it has happened elsewhere. 

What other completely normal human things do you think Rocky would find fascinating/horrifying?

Do we like the Rocky pov? Would we mind another one bc I have a short one in mind, same dynamics but I swear I have plans to switch that up too lol

[ineznay]

Bracelet chapter 7

First thing first. Thanks very much to @vqler for this wonderful art. Couple of years ago I'd never thought I'd get an art from my favourite artist but here we are. It was so nice to work with you, your art style is the best ♥️

<-Previous Next->

THIS CHAPTER IS HEAVY N$FW

Please don't it read it if you're not okay with it. I won't mark my blog as strictly n$fw because it'll probably be the only such fic here.

Alex tried to shift or free his hands. Where even was he?..

Actually, it didn't really matter. You don't exactly care to inspect your surroundings when hot, wet breath is brushing against your neck, and someone's neat ass is parked right on your lap.

From behind, warm, dry palms slid along his body from his armpits down to his thighs. Alex exhaled shiveringly. Every touch burned; his body felt scalding hot.

"Something wrong, champ?" a very familiar low voice purred in his ear. Alex couldn't answer; his tongue completely refused to cooperate.

Sharp nails traced up the inside of his thighs. Alex arched his lower back, but escaping was impossible. They kept holding him from behind by his sides, preventing him from even squirming. He couldn't help himself and let out a quiet laugh.

"So obedient today," a second voice praised, thick with a Spanish accent.

The nails returned, occasionally giving way to slender fingers. The hands crept closer and closer to his underwear, and Alex suddenly realized with stark clarity that he wasn't wearing any pants. He was about to voice his indignation over what they were doing to him, but a sudden burst of laughter knocked the wind right out of his lungs. He jerked sharply, but once again, absolutely nothing worked. What the hell.

He could feel insistent fingers digging into his ribs. Even worse was the voice in his ear.

"O-o-one, tw-o-o... How awkward, I lost count. Let's start over. O-o-one..."

Alex choked on his laughter and let his head drop onto the other man's shoulder. He didn't even want to break free anymore. A pleasant warmth spread through his stomach; his breathing was heavy, punctuated by occasional breathless laughs.

The hands that had been terrorizing his thighs switched to the creases between his leg and groin. Alex grew even louder, involuntarily jerking his pelvis.

"I like it when you laugh in my ear," Alex was certain he could come from that voice alone.

The tickling didn't stop for a single second. Done playing with his ribs, Elliot decided to move to his stomach. Alex turned his head, burying his face in Elliot's neck.

Alister had already slipped under his underwear, his fingers fluttering all around the coveted spot, though he hadn't touched it just yet.

"You're practically shaking, sweetness. You want it bad, don't you? Is now a good time? Come on, beg nicely."

Alex could only whimper. The rear front had no intention of resting. His neck was subjected to a new wave of affection: with one hand, Elliot lightly held his neck to keep him from pulling away, kissing him. Greedily, sucking at his skin in a way that would definitely leave a mark. El would love a mark on this pale skin. Or better yet, two. Even better, ten.

Alex tried to grab Alister by the wrists.

"What an impatient boy you are, Lexi. You're already dripping all over. What's wrong? Want me to help you with that?"

Alister's hand finally cupped his cock.

Alex opened his eyes, gasping for air. His ears were ringing. His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat. And his body... more than ever, he wanted those hands back, wanted it to never end. He craved that warmth; his boxers felt suffocatingly tight and wet. Damn it, he really was dripping.

Only now did he finally realize what had happened. He'd had a dream. And not just any dream, but a highly erotic one, to put it mildly. And to top it off, with two guys at once.

His body had clearly decided that whatever happened between him and Alister on that mat wasn't enough, painting the rest of the picture on its own and painting it with terrifying generosity, heavily laced with pure lust.

Shame washed over him in a sickening, sticky wave, but the arousal was stronger. His hand instinctively reached down, slipping beneath the waistband of his briefs.

His fingers brushed against the smooth head. His thumb traced his frenulum, making Alex exhale shakily. Wrapping his hand around his hard cock, he stroked it slowly. Alister's image flashed in his mind again. He placed his other hand on his chest, squeezing. Elliot would have done exactly that. Alex groaned long and low with pleasure. He didn't rush, trying to fully recreate his fantasy.

The images from his dream blurred before his eyes again. Alister was setting the pace. Harsh, almost painful. It was as if he wanted to bring Alex to his peak as quickly and efficiently as possible. Right at the moment he was closest, his hand stopped. Digging his heels into the mattress, Alex exhaled through tightly gritted teeth in sheer desperation. No, he wasn't going to finish this early.

Alex kept pleasuring himself, closing his eyes tightly to prevent the visions of his dream from dissolving into the morning twilight. A finger brushed his nipple, and a fresh wave of sparks jolted through his brain. He gripped the base of his cock tighter and tried to catch his breath. Too soon.

After a few seconds, he couldn't take it anymore and picked up the pace again. Alex kept rubbing the head. Fingers slightly calloused scratched the sensitive skin, tickling it. The sensation made his vision go dark with pleasure as the orgasm rolled in with increasing insistence. His hand moved up and down under his underwear. Alex bit down on the flesh of his palm and let out a loud, shuddering breath. Warm white fluid spilled over his hand.

"Pathetic," Alex thought, standing over the sink at four in the morning. His boxers were covered in cum, his hands too, and his face was as red as a schoolboy's after his first time. Why on earth had his body rebelled like this?

How was he supposed to look them in the eye after this?! What a shameful, degenerate mess! And with both of them at once! Seriously, what kind of decent person imagines themselves in a threesome, let alone on the bottom? Exactly, Alex didn't think a decent one did.

The worst part was that it made him want to go to the club with triple the intensity. His body wasn't just asking; it was practically demanding a sequel. Absolutely with those two, and absolutely at the same time.

He repeated it like a mantra: "It's a stress response. It's a stress response. It's a stress response..." Though what kind of damn stress was this? Stress gives you headaches and makes your hair fall out; it doesn't give you a hard-on.

He crashed into his teammates at practice with extra zeal. He didn't dare go to the club just yet, much as he wanted to, so he had to use every means necessary to beat out everything that didn't fit the criteria of "decent." He worked himself to total exhaustion and crashed into bed straight after practice, ensuring no erotic nonsense could find its way into his dreams. His teammates chalked it all up to the upcoming big match. Look at the captain putting in work, training hard. Isn't he an excellent role model?

He held out strong for nearly a week, but a humiliating defeat to his own libido awaited him.

He returned to the club practically dead on his feet. The constant tension, both sexual and ordinary muscle strain, was taking its toll. To make matters worse, he was terribly anxious about seeing the heroes of his fantasies. Just the phrasing made him flinch. What was he, a schoolgirl daydreaming about her favorite character? But there was no other way to put it.

Alex was already walking toward their usual spot at the table when he spotted Alister and Elliot. They were sitting on a mat by the wall, talking. Alex couldn't hear a word they were saying, but just the sight of them made his face flush. The last thing he needed was to blush. He was a grown man, for God's sake!

They noticed him, too. It was hard to miss him.

"Captain!" El called out, gesturing with his hand. Alex obediently trudged over to them.

"Where are Kill and Jess?"

"Jess is on a shift, she'll be late, and Kill, unfortunately, doesn't report to us. He's like a cat. Disappears for God knows how long and pops back up out of nowhere. Take a seat," Elliot patted the mat between them.

"You look tense. Look at those bags under your eyes... Is there anything you want to share with us, Lexi?" Alister reached out with a hint of concern, gently brushing his finger over the dark circle under his eye. Alex softly nudged his hand away.

Sure. Why not tell them that you imagine two of your... whatever they were, in compromising positions, and then happily jerk off to it. Great conversation starter, just perfect. Thanks, Alister.

But Alex only replied:

"My coach has been driving us ragged, we have a game coming up."

Alister put on an understanding expression and nodded sagely.

Elliot just smirked and squeezed his leg. Alex practically jumped. They just had to get handsy.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're awfully jumpy for someone who's just tired," El remarked.

"And your cheeks are pink. Alexander, this is atypical even for you. Are you getting sick?" Alister reached for him again, this time to check his temperature.

Alex only blushed deeper. Why did they have to be so perceptive?

"Come on, spill it, jock," Elliot poked him in the ribs. No way, it was like they conspired against him today!

"I'm just really glad to see you guys!" Alex recoiled as if scalded. And he wasn't even lying. He was so glad that he was practically aching down there.

Alister looked at the two of them and uttered:

"¡Todo esto es porque siempre le estás buscando las cosquillas!" and then he smiled like an idiot.

"Sabes que no entendió el juego de palabras, ¿verdad?" Alex didn't understand a single thing, but Elliot clearly found the phrase amusing too.

"Is that something I'm not supposed to hear?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't get it, Lex," Elliot leaned against his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear again. What kind of habit was that? Did he do that with everyone? How did people even talk to him? Well, people who weren't Alex.

"You're all red again, don't change the subject," Alister just couldn't let it go.

"Maybe you want us to find out for ourselves?" Now this was entering dangerous territory. Elliot's tone boded no good.

And just like that, he was lying with his back against Elliot's torso, nestled comfortably between his legs. Some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. Should he go buy a lottery ticket or something?

Naturally, Elliot started first. He had zero patience.

His hands slipped under his T-shirt with surprising ease, despite all of Alex's efforts. He automatically tried to crawl away, but at that exact moment, Elliot gleefully dug into his sides. From fleeing, he switched to resisting, but you try resisting him. It felt like trying to push off a playful lion: if he does let you go, it's only to suddenly grab you again. And you couldn't budge the bastard an inch.

His nerves regarding who was doing this only heightened Alex's sensitivity. Naturally, Alister found himself a perfect seat - Alex's thighs. Where else would he sit?

"So what's the matter, Alexander?" Alister drummed his fingertips impatiently against his stomach.

"Calm ho-ho-down your i-hi-hi-diot first."

"Idiot, calm down, don't interrupt our conversation," he waved a hand at Elliot with a tone that said, "Wait, peasant, can't you see the master is speaking?"

"Al, you better not push your luck, or I won't care about the color of your wristband," El snapped back, though he pulled his hands out from under the T-shirt.

"Feel like talking now?"

"I've already said everything," Alex snapped. He was doing a stellar job keeping a straight face. Really impressive, considering his stomach was tied in such tight knots that he could barely keep himself from squirming.

"What you said wasn't particularly convincing. You've had practices before, but you never came back from them looking this wild."

"Do you know what we do to liars, Alex, mm? Especially those who lie straight to our faces so blatantly and terribly."

Alex sucked in his stomach, as if that would help against an attack.

"Lexi, I'm counting to three. Confess, or we will be forced to take action," Alister said in a tone far too serious for such an absurd situation.

"Oh, I love that part," Elliot chipped in ominously. "Come on, Lex. O-o-one..."

His hands hovered over Alex's tense body. He wiggled his fingers, taking immense pleasure in the expression on his victim's face.

Alex closed his eyes, but not watching the catastrophe approach turned out to be even more nerve-wracking, so he opened them, awaiting the attack with anticipation.

"Guys, come on, what about per-he-personal boundaries?" Alex simply couldn't suppress a nervous giggle.

"Their boundaries, cariño, are blurred in the dark."

"And nobody canceled the safeword, dummy. Where were we? Tw-o-o..."

Alex tried to pull his legs up, forcing Alister to shift closer to his stomach, right onto his crotch. The terror on Alex's face was mistaken for anticipation. This was the end, absolutely the end. Now they would start their dirty business, Alex would start squirming, and Alister would end up rubbing his ass all over him. If this kept up, a hard-on was only a matter of time. And judging by the pace, not a lot of time at all.

But the guys didn't see anything provocative about the position.

"Last chance," Alister crooned. Alex just shook his head.

"Three!" Oh, with what sheer delight Elliot dug into his ribs.

Alex held out as best as he could. His chest arched high, his cheeks puffed out. Was he an athlete or what? He locked his pelvis in place and tried not to move too much. Maybe he'd get lucky?

He completely failed to account for Alister's mischievous hands. With the persistence of a seasoned interrogator, Alister launched into a proper enhanced interrogation. That ought to be illegal, by the way! And Alex felt exactly why on his own skin. Tickling someone's hip bones is a literal crime. His plan to hold out and remain motionless failed miserably.

Elliot's hands roamed freely under his T-shirt, lightly scratching his skin with dull nails.

"DON'T-ha-ha-HA-HA!"

The screams only rippled Elliot up, and Alister was casting some rather predatory glances. Alex began to think that mercy truly wasn't on the table. The thought flashed somewhere between "please, just not the armpits" and "I beg you, not the stomach."

Alister traced a line with a single finger through the light fuzz on his stomach down to his belly button, circling it. Alex whimpered, unable to stop laughing.

"Leave me alone-hehe..."

"Refusing to testify automatically counts as a confession of guilt in the eyes of the investigation," judging by his tone, Elliot was smirking. Easy for him to laugh.

"The defendant is resisting," Alister noted as he was jolted upward again. What a... wild stallion.

El rubbed his cheek against his neck, but the tenderness was deceptive. His hands immediately darted into his armpits.

The sensation was unbearable and, because of that, deathly arousing. It couldn't go on like this.

"STO-HO-HO-HO-OP!" Alex roared, "I'LL TELL YOU EV-HE-HE-HE-ERYTHING!"

Elliot and Alister both stopped instantly. Were they really that interested?

Alex gave himself enough time to catch his breath. He needed to act as rationally as possible and try to minimize contact with...

"So, Lex? We're waiting for an answer."

Elliot gave Alex's cheek an expectant pinch, trying to coax him to speak.

Alex stuck out his tongue.

"Oh-ho-ho," yeah, he was probably a dead man now. That was super rational, of course. Not foolish at all.

"Have you ever heard the parable about not sawing off the branch you're sitting on?" Alister seemed genuinely surprised that someone was digging their own grave so stubbornly. And they'd given him a chance!

Alex just drilled him with a stubborn glare. Sheer recklessness and bravado...

Though Elliot actually liked the response. The more excuses to tickle him, the better.

There was no warning this time. All Alex managed to see was Elliot's hands flashing before his face. The next second, his wrists were pinned above his head.

"Come on, no way, guys!" Alex's eyes scanned the club in a panic, as if hoping someone would help him, but who would care?

He tried to suck in his stomach, but that didn't stop Alister's nails from raking across the taut, sensitive skin. The muscles under his fingers contracted wildly, putting his appetizing abs on full display.

"Ali-hi-hi-hister!"

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Alex wanted to reply, but at that moment, Elliot blew a raspberry right on his neck, and he dissolved into laughter again, trying to shield his neck.

"Alexander, you should start talking," Alister poked him right in the belly button, causing Alex to make a series of amusing noises.

"Ho-ha-ha-w?! Sto-he-he-op tickling me!"

"Figure it out. Our trust in you has been compromised."

"No-hi-hi-thing hap-he-pened!"

"Well, look at that, you're dead wrong again," Elliot concluded.

His doom was sealed. El freed one of his hands and finally reached for his armpits.

Alex roared, laughing loudly and shaking his head. Not a single thought remained in his mind.

"Who do we have here that's so ti-"

"Elliot, hold on," Alister waved a hand thoughtfully.

"You're always stopping me from going all out today," El grumbled.

Alister clicked his tongue at him and turned to Alex:

"Cariño, joking aside, is there nothing you want to discuss with us?"

Alex couldn't find the words to answer. He couldn't even bring himself to look at them.

Elliot exchanged a glance with Alister. Alister shifted his weight, making Alex choke on the air.

They both stared at him expectantly.

"Uhh... Well, you... I dreamed about you..."

Alister made a hand gesture indicating they were waiting for the rest.

"Both of you..."

"Dreamed about us. Very interesting. In that way?"

"In that way," Alex breathed out, as if standing before a leap into an abyss.

Silence fell, and a few seconds later, a voice came from behind:

"Want us, Captain?" he purred into his ear.

In Elliot's eyes, Alex saw a hungry glint. It was slightly terrifying. A couple of minutes ago, El had been in his typical laid-back mood, and now it looked like he was about to devour him whole.

"Not here," Alex tried to crawl away.

"In a private room?"

"In a private room," Alister confirmed.

All Alex could do was stand up, not without Elliot's help, and follow them. Everything around him felt like slow motion; arousal always acted on him like a narcotic haze.

The moment the heavy door shut out the noise of the club, Alex seemed to wake up. But there wasn't much time to process what was happening. Alister gave him a soft shove in the chest, and he fell right back into Elliot's arms.

They sank down somewhere. Onto something soft, maybe a sofa or another mat. Alex felt his T-shirt being pulled off insistently and obediently raised his arms. As soon as the unneeded piece of clothing was tossed aside, his hands were locked above his head again. This time in handcuffs.

"Alexander," Alister settled over him comfortably again, "before we begin, you need to understand that we are going to go further than usual. Are you okay with that? Are you ready?"

"Ready," Alex nodded. How could he not be ready when his jeans felt suffocatingly tight, and he was staring at the two most attractive guys he had ever met?

"Alex, this is no joke," the last time he'd seen Elliot look this serious was during their conversation after the ring. "We might be rougher during this, are you sure that-"

"I fucking said I'm ready!" Alex yelled.

"Your wish is our command," Alister raised his hands.

The leather cuffs were soft but perfectly secure. Next to them, Alex felt a button. Safety was accounted for at every step here.

Elliot kissed his neck deeply, his hands wandering across his torso, brushing over his nipples every now and then. He was creeping closer to his armpits.

Alister, for his part, was stroking more than tickling. The gentle touches made him want to curl inward, sending goosebumps skating over his skin. Shifting position slightly, he settled between his legs. His lips brushed against his collarbones, chest, and stomach. Alex tried to suck in his stomach again, but that didn't stop Alister from continuing to kiss and drag his tongue across his skin.

Suddenly, he burst out laughing loudly again and tried to curl up. Elliot, completely unbothered and at a measured pace, moved his fingers against the skin of his armpit. Alex shook his head as if that could save him from the tickling.

"No-ho-ho-ho-o," a grin spread from ear to ear, wide enough to split his face in half.

Alister's hands moved to his fly, carefully catching the fastener. Alex tensed up again. Slowly, savoring the process, Alister unzipped the jeans and finally slid them off, leaving Alex in just his boxers. He groaned in relief, even though he realized how pathetic the wet spot on his underwear looked.

"So responsive," Alister's palm covered the bulge, squeezing lightly, and Alex let out another long groan.

Alister slipped his hands under the waistband, and Alex's vision swam with arousal. Crossing every line of decency, Elliot began to literally knead his ribs, making him lose track of his senses. On one hand, it was ticklish; on the other, having hands in such an intimate spot kept making Alex whimper.

He didn't even notice his last piece of clothing being stripped away, leaving him completely defenseless. Alister slid down lower, his lips pressing against the smooth head. Alex chuckled breathlessly, now shamelessly moaning right into Elliot's ear.

The Spaniard squeezed his balls at the base of his cock, cutting off any path to a quick finish. With his other hand, he stroked the inside of his thigh. From behind, Alex could feel hot breath against the back of his neck. Elliot squeezed his chest, playing with his nipples: alternately pinching and tickling the buds with a single finger.

Alex arched up when Alister suddenly took his entire length into his mouth without flinching. He had expected at least some foreplay, but no one was planning on giving him time to prepare. Alister's skilled tongue ran firmly up and down his length, while the hand that had just been resting peacefully on his thigh slithered like a snake behind his knee, threateningly dancing over the sensitive skin. Startled, Alex jerked his leg sharply and groaned, a sound mixed with laughter, but it didn't stop anyone.

Elliot simply bit his ear - something he'd clearly been dreaming of for a long time, judging by how often his lips used to hover millimeters away from it, whispering things. His fingers kept amusing themselves with his broad, soft chest, driving Alex completely out of his mind.

Alister's sharp nails lightly skimmed over his balls without stopping the tickling behind his knee, and Alex had to bite his lip to keep from squeaking.

He tried to jerk his hands, but only succeeded in making the handcuffs clank loudly. He wanted to grab Alister's hands and finally find release, but the opportunity just wasn't there.

"A-a-ha-lister," stringing sounds into words was barely happening; his tongue refused to obey entirely. Did he want to say something? It was easy to forget when a fresh bite or a fiery kiss landed on his neck.

With a distinct wet sound, Alister pulled away from Alex and surveyed the scene. The view before him was mesmerizing: two meters of pure muscle, unable to string a single word together. Entirely flushed, curls unraveled and scattered across his face, his chest heaving heavily, breaking out in red patches from the sheer excitement.

The sight gave him a massive hard-on, and judging by his partner's intense expression, he was barely keeping himself in his pants, either.

Regardless, this did nothing to ease Alex's plight. Passion hadn't made them any more merciful. Alister still wouldn't let him come, and now he decided to tease him mercilessly. With his other hand, he stroked the dripping cock again, stopping at the head. Using the nail of his index finger, he began tracing circular motions around the tip, slick with pre-cum, making Alex writhe like a fish out of water. The sensation was unbearable, unreal; Alex lost all control over his body. All he could do was lie there and take it as jolts like electricity shot through him. From behind, Elliot groaned in impatience, burying his face deeper into his neck. Seeing Alex like this was mind-blowing.

Alister gave him a few more preventative scrapes with his nails down the entire length. He was dying for it himself by now, and Alex was practically tearing up from overstimulation. He couldn't delay any longer. Sucking down tightly on the cock again, he began moving his head vigorously up and down.

Alex thrashed again; the overstimulation hit him just as hard as the tickling, and he was nearly screaming from the sensations.

Alister finally let go. It didn't take even ten seconds for him to come. Cum shot out instantly from the already hyper-stimulated organ. It wasn't a surprise for Alister, and he took it easily, swallowing.

He and Elliot looked at each other with wild eyes, also trying to catch their breath. That was quite the experience.

The problem manifested almost immediately, both figuratively and quite literally. Alex hadn't even recovered from his intense release, but the two of them were already so worked up they were about to explode. How, pray tell, do you explain that to a person who still has white spots in their vision from an orgasm?

Elliot figured it out first, carefully unhooking Alex from overhead. He lightly slapped his cheek with his palm.

"Hey, jock, wake up, you can't just leave us hanging like this," Elliot's voice sounded a bit strained, though maybe the wild arousal was to blame.

Alex blinked a few times, clearly struggling to snap out of it. He stretched his stiff arms, took in the situation, and reached for Alister's fly. Dressing up was clearly not on Alex's agenda. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he rolled onto his stomach. Now his face was buried right in Alister's crotch, while a plump, freckled ass was arched right up in front of Elliot. Neither of the guys intended to pass up their position.

Managing the zipper and the brief layer of underwear, Alex got to work. Alister's cock wasn't thick, around 16 centimeters long, his tanned pubic area cleanly shaved. Al groaned loudly right away, burying his hands in the soft curls but without pressing down on the back of his head. The pace suited him perfectly.

A lot of interesting things were happening at the back, too. Elliot might be a sadist, but he wasn't a monster; he respected his partner. Alex felt cold, slick lube. Elliot carefully slid two fingers inside, stretching him quite gently, if a bit unhurriedly. He wanted to start as soon as possible. Preferably a couple of minutes ago.

When El found his prostate, Alex groaned right into Alister, who gripped his hair even tighter. He was beginning to doubt his ability to last long like this.

Elliot finally finished preparing him and, having slipped a condom on, began to enter him. Alex involuntarily tensed up, and El stroked his back to soothe him.

"Come on, Lex, don't tense up. Gently now," here he acted with total deliberation, taking his time so as not to cause Alex pain with a sudden thrust.

This caused Alex to lose his rhythm every now and then, making Alister curl his toes and tug at his hair to make him bring the intensity down.

Gradually, El picked up speed, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He entered harder and harder, making Alex gag slightly on Alister.

Consequently, Alex decided to quicken his pace too. Naturally, nobody asked Alister. Lex worked his tongue diligently, holding Alister by the hips. His face contorted with pleasure; he tried to pull Alex away from him again, but Lex stubbornly stayed put, pressing his freckled nose into the tanned stomach. Soon, Al came, collapsing onto his back. Alex, being a polite person, swallowed.

And while Alister was already done, Elliot was only just getting into it. He chose Alex's sides as his main source of amusement. A little kneading there, and Alex would clamp down tightly around him, laughter breaking through his groans. These pathetic twitches riled Elliot up immensely, and with a wild fire in his eyes, he kept hammering in faster. Already hyper-sensitive after his orgasm, Alex began to harden again. The second time promised to be even more shattering than the first.

Lust and power blinded him. How long had he dreamed of this? Ever since he first saw Alex at the club? Since he finally managed to gain complete control in the ring? His desire only grew with every meeting; he honestly didn't know how he'd lasted this long without pinning his athlete down on a table somewhere. And the signs he'd been giving! There wasn't a day where his hand wasn't on Alex's waist, but Lex seemed to think it was completely innocent and very heterosexual. Elliot was ready to make up for all the nights spent fantasizing about this ass.

Alex slapped his palm against the floor, hinting that he wouldn't last long. Not a problem, Elliot found a solution! He followed Alex's earlier example and gripped his balls at the base. Alex groaned painfully; there was absolutely no way to endure a fresh wave of overstimulation, and a fine tremor began to shake his body.

"I can't!" Alex felt tears welling up in his eyes.

"But I can."

Elliot's other hand dropped down too. He began rubbing the head of the already constricted organ with his palm. Alex screamed, squeezing his fists until his knuckles turned white.

He was already cursing Elliot's stamina. The guy didn't alter his frantic pace and still hadn't come. How was that even possible?!

He didn't have time to wonder for long. Elliot let go, and Alex came instantly. It was like he was unplugged: he went completely limp, held up only by Elliot's hands. Was El planning to pull out? Unlikely.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to echo forever. Alex could no longer distinguish the sensations, nor did he try to track whether he had hardened again or finished. His mind was an absolute, all-consuming void.

Elliot amused himself with his body for a few more minutes until, with a quiet sigh, he finally came.

Alister came to his senses near the end. He looked at the two limp bodies beside him. Well, quite a successful first threesome...

Elliot, the tireless terminator, got up and looked around literally a minute later. His eyes met Alister's. They both looked at Alex. He was just lying there, not moving. They sat down together to wait.

"Did you overdo it?" Alister asked with a hint of worry.

"I hope not. He seemed like he was holding up fine."

But time passed, Alex wasn't getting up, and the tension grew. Finally, Alister decided to check his pulse and breathing.

"¿Che razza di bestia sei?" Alister pressed his fingers against the other's wrist.

"I didn't think it would turn out like this," Elliot quietly defended himself.

"Pulse is normal, breathing is steady. He's sleeping. Sleeping very soundly."

"We wore the poor guy out," they exchanged a relieved look.

Since Alex clearly had no intention of waking up anytime soon, it was decided that Alister would stay behind to pay for the private room time, while Elliot would be in charge of taking care of Alex.

El handled his task perfectly; draping Alex's arm over his neck, he managed to lift and carry him. Not on the first try, of course the guy weighed quite a bit but he managed to lug him over to the table.

Everyone was already waiting for them there. Jessica was the first to pounce.

"What did you do?!" she hissed in a panic, instantly rushing over to the sofa where they had laid Alex down.

"He's just sleeping!" Elliot raised his hands.

"Sleeping, my foot! How did you drive a person to unconsciousness, you absolute fools?!" Jess didn't let up, scolding them.

"We didn't do anything crazy, we were just having some fun," Alister tried to interject guiltily.

"Bring some water," Jess snapped without even looking at them. Elliot obediently trotted off to get water.

Kill, after hearing Jess's verdict of "Vitals are normal, but if it were up to me, I'd kill you," calmed down as well.

"Yeah, this is definitely a new record for you guys. I don't remember anyone being brought back passed out from a private room."

"He's been at practice all week, he hasn't slept a wink!" Elliot kept trying to clear his good name. "They have a big game coming up."

Alex really was wildly exhausted after a week of actively avoiding his own thoughts through an inhuman training schedule. After the long-awaited release, he finally let go. That was the result.

They had to take Alex home to sleep it off, no matter how you looked at it. Alister called a cab, while Elliot picked Alex up again. Jess, though she still looked at them with judgment, let them go. They were friends, after all; she trusted them.

Half the ride went by in silence, accompanied by Alex's peaceful snoring on Elliot's shoulder. Alister broke the silence.

"And what are we going to do about all this?"

"What else can we do? Split him down the middle? Someone gets the bottom half, someone gets the top?"

"Not funny at all," Alister nudged him.

"You, my friend, are looking at this from the wrong angle. You and I make a real team. What if... we join forces? We're trying to divide someone who wants to belong to both of us."

Alister grew thoughtful.

"Are you proposing a relationship? To me? To him?"

"To us."

"We'll have to ask Alex first..." Alister said, caught off guard.

"We'll ask him tomorrow. I want to know your opinion."

Alister pinched the bridge of his nose. On one hand, it sounded like a massive gamble. On the other, Elliot was an excellent partner to him in all their delicate endeavors, not to mention a very hot man. He needed both him and Alex. And the prospect of a "+1" addition pleased him more than it fazed him.

"I agree."

[sunstone-smiles]

Late-night Lessons

Author’s note: I told myself this was going to be a quick fic, and then I started experimenting with Rocky’s POV lol. But omg I had a lot of fun writing in the mindset of our favorite sassy rock alien! At first I wrote a whole draft in first person, buuut I liked the flow of it better in third person limited with Rocky still as the narrator! I hope you enjoy!

(Also posted on AO3!)

Series: Project Hail Mary

Characters: Ryland Grace and Rocky

Word Count: 2,781

Summary: It is midnight and this stubborn human will not go to bed! Thankfully, Rocky remembers that humans have a strange reaction that causes them to laugh, which could be used to his advantage.

---

Rocky knows for a fact that humans are not nocturnal, a human word Grace taught him for creatures that sleep during the day and stay up at night, but Grace sometimes appears to be an exception to this rule. This fleshy being has a tendency of staying up late and sleeping in during the morning until Rocky has to practically drag him out of bed. He is like an infant. It is ridiculous. Grace says he is a grown human man. It is hard to believe him sometimes.

Grace usually has an excuse when he stays up late at night. He says he’s working on lesson plans and activities for class the next day for the young Eridians, or pebbles as Grace has named them. Rocky tells Grace to complete this task earlier so he doesn’t have to lose sleep, but the scientist says that something called procrastination gets the better of him until he realizes what time it is. Rocky does not like procrastination. 

But Rocky will stay with Grace during his bad, bad human decisions as he continues to do the same thing tonight. Rocky lies halfway over his lap, careful to balance his large weight, as Grace sits on the floor of his Eridian-made bedroom with his legs crossed with one over the other. The human has compared Rocky to a ‘lap cat’ or a weighted blanket while he is in this position; he says Rocky’s warmth keeps him cozy.

In front of Grace’s chest, there is a small table that is being held up by an adjustable arm, allowing Grace to work on his computer from his sitting position. Much safer than Grace using Rocky as a platform to hold his electronic device, which he has jokingly done before. Behind Grace, a short distance away, is the bed that he’s currently avoiding sleeping in.

Rocky continues hearing the tap, tap, tapping of Grace’s computer keys for what he feels like has been all night. Rocky keeps himself occupied by creating xenonite puppets that Grace can give out to his students, if he wants. The clock on the other side of the room suddenly chimes a specific, quiet melody they rigged that allows Rocky to know what time it is without him having to look at the Earth version of the clock.

Twelve chimes.

It’s midnight by human standards. Rocky shifts in his comfortable spot to look up at the human. It appears that the chimes of the clock have not wavered Grace’s focus on his computer in the slightest.

“Grace, clock currently says midnight. Is late,” Rocky mentions as his chirps are translated into a computer voice for Grace to understand. “Grace ready to sleep, question?”

Grace types away at his keyboard, tap, tap, tapping, not even looking at Rocky. “I’m almost done, buddy.”

“Grace said almost done human hour ago.” Rocky grows worried that the scientist is so tired that he is forgetting what he previously said.

“I needed a little more time,” Grace replies. “Give me five more minutes.”

Oh, Rocky has heard this one before, especially when he is trying to get the human out of bed. Five minutes is never five minutes.

Rocky stares up at Grace, clacking his claws together out of annoyance. “Rocky does not believe Grace.”

Grace’s gaze remains unmoving from the computer screen. “It’s going to take me even longer if you keep distracting me, buddy.”

Rocky rattles his shoulder joints and gurgles out a quiet grumble. He concedes, however, and plops himself back into Grace’s lap to wait the five so-called minutes that Grace has declared. 

Rocky does not get bored easily, but he does not want to start another xenonite puppet, and he finds the need to preoccupy his claws with something while he waits these excruciating three hundred seconds. 

The Eridian chirps out a quiet sigh. Seeing the first item in his vicinity, Rocky mindlessly starts playing with Grace’s shirt through his claws, just fiddling with the material as if he is kitting it. Human cloth is a fascinating thing. Grace has explained it to Rocky before. Fabric made of plants or animal fibers, crafted into a wearable object is intriguing. Even through Rocky’s xenonite mesh suit, he can feel a bit of the texture, soft and fluffy. Maybe one day Rocky can craft a line of xenonite apparel for Grace to wear–

Suddenly, the human flinches under Rocky’s claws. The tap, tap, tapping of the computer keys stop for a moment. Rocky pulls his claw away to see that the human’s stomach beneath his shirt has retracted out of reflex, most likely because Rocky mistakenly grazed his fleshy skin while he was examining his shirt.

“Rocky, please don’t do that. It’s distracting,” Grace says as a gentle reminder. However, Rocky’s immaculate hearing can tell Grace’s words were trying to mask what the Eridian has come to learn is an airy laugh humans do. A chuckle, it is called. 

Now why would Grace be chuckling? No joke was told. Hmm, maybe he just wrote something funny in his lesson plan to the pebbles? No, no. He wouldn’t try to hide his laugh if that was the case. Rocky ponders for a moment… All he was doing was playing with Grace’s shirt when he accidentally touched his stomach and–

Oh.

Oh yes.

Humans have this reflex when they laugh when they’re touched in their fleshy spots. It is very silly. Very adorable. Eridians have something similar, but Grace has taught Rocky that humans call it tickling. Rocky has used it on Grace on multiple occasions, such as using it to get the squishy human out of bed.

So, theoretically… there is a possibility that it can also get him in to bed.

Grace’s fingers have already resumed typing on his computer. While the human is occupied, Rocky looks at the end of his arm and flexes his claw. Rocky happily wiggles in place and stifles a squeaky laugh so the human’s less-than immaculate ears can’t hear him. 

With his plan in mind, Rocky starts playing with Grace’s shirt again, but he purposely scratches gently at the squishy stomach underneath. 

The human’s belly retracts again, the tapping of the keys stop, and Grace stiffens. His mouth begins to wobble into a smile.

Grace pulls his shoulders close to his ears, resisting the urge to laugh, Rocky can tell.

“Rocky-” his smile quivers even more and his fingers twitch above his computer keys.

“Yes, Grace? Is there a problem, question?” Rocky’s computer voice correctly translates that he is fully enjoying this. “Rocky is keeping occupied by examining clothes covering squishy flesh.”

Grace shakes his head. “I know what you’re trying to do, Rock- and it’s not going to work.” Grace clearly sounds like he’s trying to swallow the build up of pressure in his chest from wanting to laugh, but the pressure keeps building. 

“Rocky disagrees. Grace is very ticklish. Clearly holding in laughter,” Rocky makes sure to state. “Grace will not be able to last long,” the Eridian chirps out a giggle of his own.

Grace struggles to speak without a laugh, but he surprisingly manages. “Oh yeah? You think I can’t handle some tickling while I’m trying to focus? Watch me,” the human challenges. 

He clears his throat like a cough, rolls his shoulders back, and straightens out his spine. Grace takes a deep breath like he’s about to go swimming underwater, then refocuses. His fingers, miraculously, start tapping on the keys again.

Could Rocky absolutely tackle Grace to the floor and have him laughing in seconds? Yes, absolutely. Humans are far too squishy to resist for long. However, Rocky welcomes the challenge, as it is much more entertaining. The Eridian quickens the pace of his claw that is pressing into the human’s belly.

Grace muffles a laugh behind his lips, only letting out a huff of air from his nose. He lets out a little squirm, then loudly, and very obviously, clears his throat again. He talks to himself about what he’s typing to get his mind off the sensations Rocky is producing at his tummy.  

“Okay…” Grace says to his computer screen, “So the noble gasses on the periodic table of elements are…” his smile wobbles. There’s a squeak in his throat. He bites his bottom lip. “Are…” The human lets out a sound in-between a snort and a squeak. He squeezes his eyes shut and throws a hand up to cover his mouth.

Rocky shakes, quite pleased with the current results. “Grace looks ready to explode, figuratively speaking, statement.”

Grace places his hands on the table for support and shakes his head. “Nope!” he barely gets out the words. “Nope! I’m good!” 

Stubborn, stubborn human. Okay, that’s it. Time to bring in the second claw.

With no hesitation, Rocky takes his other arm and scratches it at the bottom of Grace’s ribs. Grace squeaks and curls his fingers into a fist, wobbling forward over his desk. A few of his giggles slip. The scientist leans back and slaps both of his hands across his mouth, but his giggles continue to leak through his fingers like a hole in an oxygen tank. His shoulders bounce and soon, Grace pulls his hands from his mouth, successfully giggling out into the room. 

Grace snorts and looks down at Rocky. “Ohohokay, okay,” the human reaches down to grab the Eridian’s claws away—his first mistake. 

“Rocky–AH!” Grace yelps when Rocky launches his claw upwards, right in the middle of the top rib and the squishy part humans call the armpit. Grace’s loud giggles burst out of him and he flails his arms against Rocky’s full-scale attack with three of his claws squeezing at his torso, including his belly. 

“Rocky win! Rocky win!” the Eridian cheers over the human’s laughter. “Rocky choose prize. Rocky wants Grace to sleep now, statement.” 

“Nohoho! Grahahace wants to finish his lehehehesson!” the human mimics the speech pattern of Rocky’s computer voice as the scientist attempts to shove at him. Grace leans back and topples to the floor. Rocky crawls above him, poking and wiggling his claws into his squirmy form. Even when losing control of themselves from producing this joyful sound, humans still have the audacity to talk back.

“Stubborn. Stubborn human.” Rocky claws at his ribs to persuade him. Grace tosses his head back with a wheeze and bats at the Eridian’s claws that are clearly not going anywhere. It is foolish that he thinks he can push them away. “Stubborn human needs to lie down!”

“I a-ahahaham lying dohohohown!” Grace sasses.

Rocky growls and stomps his back foot on the ground. “Not on the floor! On bed! Grace can not do lessons if low on sleep!”

The human kicks his feet and leans forward to take another shove at the Eridian. “I’ll be fihihine! I’ve done it behehehefore!” Grace says.

Rocky squawks, like a hard surface screeching on metal, “WHAT?! Grace has done this before, question??? Grace, bad! BAD! This is why Rocky needs to be here to watch over Grace more often! Can not leave Grace alone for even a small amount of time!” Rocky adds more pressure to his wiggling claws into the human’s soft flesh to show that he means business. 

Grace squeals. He hugs his torso and squirms from side to side to side. “Ahahaha! I’m nohohot a child!” Grace cackles.

“Grace certainly looks like one,” Rocky snickers at the giggle-filled human.

Grace covers his face, slipping his hands under his glasses that are already askew. He giggles under his hands for a moment before squeezing his arms to his sides.

“Trust mehehehe! I cahahahan teach under ahahahany conditions!” Grace declares with full confidence. How is this human not tired yet?

Rocky rumbles with a growl again. Rocky will make him, what is the human phrase again, ‘eat words’? Yes, Rocky will serve him a meal of his own words.

“Then teach Rocky now, statement,” the Eridian says.

“WHAHAHAT?” Grace exclaims in the middle of his laughter.

“Grace needs to prove his statement of teaching under any condition. Teach Rocky while Rocky tickle.”

“Nohohoho way!” Grace squawks when Rocky plunges two claws into his armpits.

“Grace, teach Rocky,” the Eridian repeats. Rocky sees that Grace’s shirt has shifted upwards, so Rocky changes spots and slips a claw under the fabric of his shirt to get at his squishy tummy, earning a flail and an overflow of giggles from the human. “Tell Rocky what lesson is about.” Rocky knows the human can not resist a good challenge. 

“Fihihihine!” Grace giggles, trying to get his thoughts in order while Rocky keeps his claws creating tickly sensations across his torso. “It’s about Earth’s periodic tahahable of ehehe-elements!” he says the mouthful of words through his laughter.

“And?” Rocky continues to skitter his claws over his friend’s stomach, awaiting the lesson he is owed.

Grace kicks his legs behind Rocky and flails his arms in front of the Eridan’s face. “Ihihihit’s ahahahabout the atomic numbers, prohohotons, electrons, atomic mahahahass!” Grace starts frantically spewing scientific knowledge, “Aahahahand- and the groups! And families! Like alkali metals, halogens, noble gahahahases!” Grace cackles loud, wheezy giggles as his form of an answer.

Hearing all of this, Rocky pulls his claws away. Grace hugs his torso, taking a breather and exhaling any remaining laughter. 

Rocky tilts his body. “Pause. All of what Grace said is for Pebbles’ next lesson, question?” 

“Yeheheah…” the human’s words are still laced in giggles. As the oxygen returns to Grace’s brain, he appears to realize the reason as to why Rocky is asking him this. Grace lifts his head up. Rocky keeps himself from snickering at how his friend’s glasses are pushed up in his hair from the result of their game.  

“Do you think it’s too much?” Grace asks. 

Rocky nods his body. “Rocky likes the subject matter, but does think it is too much for pebbles for one day. Would be better if Grace separated lessons into multiple sections, statement.”

Grace lifts himself on his arms. “You think?” Grace fixes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. He narrows his eyes at Rocky through the lenses. “You’re not just saying that because you want me to sleep, right?” Not helping his own case, Grace lets out a yawn.

“Rocky being honest. Pebbles may not retain all of new Earth knowledge in one sitting.”

Grace takes a moment to soak in Rocky's words. The human moves to sit up and Rocky moves out of the way so the scientist can scoot closer to his computer. He scrolls his fingers on the laptop to glance at the pages he already has. After scrolling a few times, Grace exhales a breath out of his nose.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Grace concedes, smiling. “I got too ambitious to teach them about a new topic again, huh?”

“Yes. Grace got overly excited, statement,” Rocky agrees. “But makes Rocky happy that Grace gets excited to fill the pebbles with Earth knowledge,” the Eridian stands on his legs like a proud parent. “Does this mean Grace sleep now, question?” 

Grace lets out a soft chuckle. Rocky is surprised his friend has any more giggles to give after tickling him. “Yeah, bud. I’ll go to bed now,” Grace says.

“Amaze! Finally got through to stubborn human. Now up up up,” Rocky nudges and gestures for the human to get onto his feet.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up. No need to be pushy,” Grace jokes and stands.

“Rocky must push. Human will not get sleep otherwise.”

Grace huffs out another laugh. He leaves to prepare himself for bed and Rocky waits patiently. After a few minutes, Grace shuffles into the room towards his bed, then pulls down the covers and gets into the blankets. He folds his glasses, placing them on the nightstand beside the bed, and turns off the lamp next to it. Grace pats the mattress beside him, welcoming Rocky into his bed. Rocky hops up to join the human. Fortunately, the bed frame is built strong to hold the full weight of an Eridian. Grace pats the top of Rocky’s shell.

“Grace sleep now. Get rest to teach pebbles in the morning,” Rocky says.

A chuckle softly rumbles in the human’s chest. “Yes Rocky. Goodnight.”

“It is technically morning-” Rocky corrects on impulse.

“Rocky,” Grace giggles. 

“Apologies. Rocky stay quiet now. Grace sleep. Rocky watch. Night good to Grace too.” 

Rocky moves himself closer to Grace so he can feel the warmth beneath the Eridian’s xenonite suit. The human makes himself comfortable and in a few minutes, his breathing slows to that peaceful pace that gives Rocky confirmation that he is happily, and successfully, asleep.

[as-the-crows-feather-falls]

First Contact

Summary: After discussing the problem of Grace’s fine-motor skills once starvation settles deep into his body on the way to Erid, Rocky has an idea to fix it and keep Grace comfortable and safe. Testing this idea leads to hijinks.

Warnings: Spoilers for Project Hail Mary, mentions of starvation and scarring but nothing too major, they’re both a little traumatized it’s alright, this is a tickle fic so if that’s not your thing don’t read🙂‍↕️

Author’s note: guys this fic is like two weeks in the making and I had a frickin blast writing it!!! I love them so much I’m shaking them in my teeth they’re the platonic soulmates ever

If there was one thing about Rocky that Ryland Grace had learned, it was that he was a planner. As in a years ahead type of planner. Maybe it was because it concerned the overall wellbeing of his best friend, or maybe he was always that way. Granted, said best friend probably should have been thinking that far ahead anyway, but he wasn’t.

At first it came from a quiet day of parallel work. Both Grace and Rocky had been in the lab, the former doing calculations on how best to ration his meals for the trip to Erid, and the latter tinkering with some unknown Xenonite contraption. Then Rocky stopped his tinkering altogether. Which was a surprise, considering that even deep in thought he always seemed to be doing something with his claws. With five of them, Eridians were very good at multitasking.

“If Grace experience muscle weakness and fine motor skill failure from malnutrition on way to Erid, Grace no work Hail Mary when reach orbit and space elevator. Confirm, question?” He asked when he finally spoke.

Grace stopped what he was doing and chewed the tip of his pen. It had only been a few months since Grace had rescued Rocky from the Blip-A floating dead in space, they had a long, long time before they had to really start worrying about that, but Rocky had a great point.

“Uhh…shoot, yeah. You’re right.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching his spine with a few satisfying pops and looking up at the stark white ceiling. “I mean, we could probably reprogram the Hail Mary and mess around with her navigation to do it sort of on autopilot, but that might be a bit risky-”

“Rocky do it!”

Grace looked over at his friend. Rocky was on his feet now, tapping away with his two front claws as he always did when he was going through calculations in his head.

“Rocky I appreciate the thought, but you can’t pilot the Hail Mary from a ball. And the controls would fail in your atmosphere.”

“Rocky no need ball, I make suit. Suit from Xenonite mesh like panel on ball! Small small small panels for dexterity and maneuverability to properly work controls. And tend to Grace when Grace get sick. That part very important. Rocky want to help Grace. Rocky fix.”

Grace was following along pretty well until that last bit. Rocky had done his research on human malnutrition as soon as Grace mentioned rationing his food for the trip, and man, he was not at all happy about it. Grace assumed it was because with all the sleeping he’d end up doing once his body started running out of energy, it reminded him of his old crewmates, how he had watched them fall asleep one by one and never wake up again. Poor Rocky, alone in that massive ship with no one to watch him sleep…the thought always made Grace’s eyes well up.

Like they did right now.

“Rocky, you know we’ve got a while until that starts to become a concern, right? You don’t gotta worry about me just yet,” Grace said, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. Frankly he was touched that Rocky was looking out for him this far in advance. Who was he kidding, Rocky was always looking out for him.

“Yes, but if Rocky make suit now and suit have problem and things go bad bad bad during test, Rocky trust Grace to make sure Rocky safe to try again. Best to test while Grace is healthy.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Alright, deal,” Grace smiled, putting his fist up to the Xenonite in front of Rocky, and Rocky returned the gesture with his claws making a thud on the clear material. “Just be careful, alright?“

“Rocky promise! Start right away!”

—————————————————————————

It had been a few days since that conversation. Rocky slaved away in his workshop every waking hour of the day. He worked on the suit when he watched Grace sleep, he worked on it as soon as he himself woke up, and every moment in between, only pausing to eat. He wouldn’t even take a break to rewatch Star Trek with Grace, which was one of his favorites! You had to hand it to the guy, he was committed.

And then, after a week of hard, tedious, claw-aching work, it was done. Though, Rocky would take a week of this over a week of chain any day.

Grace had taken a quick trip to the dormitory to retrieve his quilt—the lab got a little chilly sometimes and he was feeling snuggly—before he got an announcement from Mary’s intercom.

“Summons from crewmate Rocky.”

“I left for two seconds,” Grace chuckled to himself before folding the quilt under his arms and making his way back up to the lab.

“Summons from crewmate Rocky.”

“I’m coming, buddy, I’m coming!”

He opened the hatch to a series of excited chirps emanating from behind the Xenonite wall, so high pitched Grace wasn’t even sure if Rocky was actually saying words or if he was just squealing with glee.

And now Grace could see what had his friend so excited. On the other side of the barrier, Rocky was stomping happily inside of a near skin-tight Xenonite spacesuit. It was similar in concept to the one he had made Grace so the human could explore the Blip-A’s interior, but much more maneuverable. Heck, at first it took Grace a moment to notice he was wearing it at all!

Grace beamed as he trotted over, squatting down to get a good look. “Hey, you finished it!”

“Yes yes yes! Ran through many designs, none very comfortable, this design good good good. Is comfortable, and can move claws to work Hail Mary interface and controls. Very important.” Rocky demonstrated by raising his claws in a fist, then separating them and pressing his “palm” against the barrier. “Now just need testing in Grace atmosphere.”

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Grace asked, grinning at Rocky’s excitement as well as his own. “Oh! Actually, me. Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

“Where Grace going, question?”

“When you come into my space you’ll be too hot for me to touch, so I’m grabbing the EVA gloves.”

“Ohh make sense, hurry hurry!”

Grace shot Rocky a thumbs down in his departure, leaving at a swift trot as he made his way to the airlock where the EVA suit resided. It took a few minutes, Rocky stomping back and forth impatiently all the while, before Grace returned.

“Alright bud, I’m here, let’s do this.”

“Yes yes yes, let’s!”

Rocky squeezed his way into the little airlock box that the two of them used to pass items back and forth, similar to the one in the tunnel connecting their respective ships when they first met. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he eventually got all his legs to fit comfortably inside. The air inside hissed as it cycled from Rocky’s atmosphere to Grace’s. As soon as it stopped it slid over to Grace’s side of the wall, and Rocky cautiously stepped out.

Both human and Eridian stood silent and still, not unlike how they did as soon as they re-entered Adrian’s orbit before everything went sideways and spinning. Only this time, nothing went wrong. Rocky flexed his claws, stretched all of his limbs out and up one by one, testing each joint of his suit for weaknesses or leaks. Nothing.

“All good?” Grace asked, turning his head and looking cautiously at his friend from the side of his eyes.

Rocky did a few more test bounces up and down with his carapace, before he stomped happily back and forth. “All good! All good good good!”

“Haha! Yes!” Grace whooped, pumping his fists in the air and grinning from ear to ear. Rocky chirped in excitement, spinning in a circle and doing jazz hands. Then Rocky stopped to give an exasperated groan, sounding a bit like a squeaky car brake.

“Rocky want to hug Grace but still too hot,” he whined.

Grace threw his head back and laughed. He put on his EVA gloves and walked over to Rocky to rest his protected palms on the top of his body around his vents. To say the Xenonite was scalding hot would be an understatement, and Grace almost had to pull away from the heat that radiated into his forearms, but he got used to it.

“Here, how’s this for starters,” he asked, masking his grimace with a friendly smile.

Rocky chirped in surprise. “Oh! Can feel! Can feel Grace through suit!” he said.

Grace chuckled. “Yeahah?”

“Yes yes yes!” Rocky chittered, shimmying from side to side as if he could barely contain his excitement. “I like!”

Rocky’s reaction was enough to make the near-burning skin worthwhile a hundred times over.

—————————————————————————

Where Grace went, Rocky went, clunking his way through the halls of the Hail Mary on five legs rather than inside of his ball. Grace had to admit, it was pretty nice having his friend like this. He was a little worried at first that Rocky having full access to the ship would cause some personal space problems and get him a little peeved, but honestly all annoyance was gone.

“Is Rocky cool enough for hug now, question?”

Well, there was that. But Grace couldn’t even be mad, the fact that Rocky was so excited for his first real hug but careful to not hurt Grace was beyond heartwarming.

Grace chuckled and hovered his bare hand over the Xenonite, just like he did ten minutes ago. Man, this stuff took ages to cool down.

“Not yet buddy, almost there though.”

They continued their endeavors.

“Is Rocky cool enough for hug now, question?”

“Oh my god…”

It took another forty minutes for the xenonite to cool down to a degree where it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Sure, Grace could’ve put his EVA suit on, but selfishly he didn’t want to. The suit was bulky and annoying to put on in 1.5g’s, and call him sappy but he wanted to feel Rocky as completely as he could when he held him close after all this time. It was his first hug, after all, it had to be special.

And then, after so much waiting—months of it now, really, ever since Grace hugged Rocky’s ball that first time—it happened. Grace figured it out on accident, simply walking by Rocky in the dormitory and giving his head a gentle pat as he passed, and Rocky leaned into his hand as if they had done it a hundred times.

Then they both paused.

Rocky raised his carapace, practically buzzing with excitement. “Grace?”

Grace looked at his unburned palm, then to Rocky, and smiled. “Rocky cool enough for hug now, statement,” he beamed.

Rocky squealed so high pitched Grace thought it would shatter the computer screens, stomping happily with all his legs and wiggling back and forth. Then, with his legs momentarily scuffing along the ground, he launched himself at Grace, his front two arms outstretched.

Grace didn’t have half a second to prepare, scrambling backwards to try and cushion the blow, before Rocky had collided with him and he was knocked flat on his back.

“Woah! Woahwoahwoah Rocky—ouf!”

The wind was briefly knocked out of him from the impact, but then he laughed. He laughed and laughed as he sat up the best he could and held Rocky close, squeezing the alien against his chest. He didn’t even care that his breath was a little restricted from the pressure of Rocky’s arms around his ribcage. Tears of pure joy began to fall from his eyes, which he squeezed closed to just feel Rocky in his arms.

Rocky was singing, the sound almost like a whimper but more joyful. He was trembling a little. The first time Grace had heard this sound from Rocky it was when the Eridian had stepped foot back on the Hail Mary for the first time after his rescue. Keening, he had called it. He had explained it as a behavior akin to human crying, a release of great emotion. Very common in pebbles, but every Eridian did it from time to time.

In short, in their own respects, Grace and Rocky were both crying from joy at just being able to hug the other.

“Rocky…like hug…” Rocky said through keens, his voice a little warbled from emotion.

“Me too,” Grace replied, pressing his cheek into the hard surface that gave him more comfort than he’d experienced since he first woke up from his coma. Wow, he didn’t realized how starved for affectionate touch he really was.

“Rocky love love love Grace.”

Grace sobbed a wet laugh, squeezing his best friend closer still. “I love love love you too, buddy,” he said through his tears. “God, I love you so much.”

—————————————————————————

If Rocky and Grace were attached at the hip before, they may as well be one organism now.

The fact that they could properly touch had done wonders to the both of them. Both species were incredibly social, and as such physical contact was important for bonding.

And boy, did the two of them utilize it.

Head pats in passing, brushing against legs, resting against shoulders, you name it. Given Rocky’s reaction to that first hug all that time ago, Grace was shocked to find he was actually a super touchy-feely guy. He was constantly near Grace, brushing a claw or leaning his carapace on Grace as he watched him work.

And the sleeping situation had improved exponentially! Rocky, god bless him, was a snuggler. Perfect for Grace because Grace was also a snuggler. That first night when Grace settled down for bed, Rocky leapt right up onto the cot like an overgrown cat and curled up perfectly in the crook of Grace’s side. When Grace huffed a small chuckle and slung his arm over Rocky’s carapace, it was as if he always belonged there.

Oh! And the science part of it! Oughhhhh the science part!! They could now study the body of the other, take notes, see what made them tick, better than ever!

They set it up in the Don’t Go Crazy room, since they didn’t need any lab equipment, just a pen and notepad for Grace. Besides, if they did anything with reflexes and one of them ended up kicking the spectrometer or something, it would be a very expensive whoops.

Even though Rocky was an engineer, being around so many scientists before they…you know…gave him a curiosity around the topic that he didn’t have on Erid. Not only that, but he definitely needed to know how Grace’s body worked if he was going to optimize his survival as he ran out of food. If Armando could keep Grace alive, at least Rocky could help keep him comfortable and not alone.

But enough of the melancholy, they had learning to do!

Grace offered to go first, given Rocky’s concern about his body being the topic that led to the invention of the new Xenonite suit. Rocky wiggled happily from side to side in said suit, evidently enjoying his newfound freedom and the offer of getting to explore the alien anatomy. He scuttled right next to Grace, making sure to be cautious of his claws lest he step on and possibly break Grace’s legs.

The Eridian made a move to reach out, curious as ever, before he hesitated. The claws within the xenonite glove tapped against one another in an anxious fidget. Grace furrowed his brow. Rocky didn’t have eyes to follow to what had made him stop, but the way the concave face of his carapace was angled at the multitude of burn scars on the flesh of his left arm and the neat little claw-print on his right let Grace know that that was what he was worried about.

He gave his friend a small, sad smile, dipping his head a little to look at him square. “Rocky…”

“Rocky not want to hurt Grace again.” Rocky crooned, curling in on himself a little. “Scarring bad bad bad. Know it was to save Grace, save Rocky, but still hurt.”

“It won’t hurt me bud,” Grace insisted. “You know as well as I do how insulated your Xenonite is, it’ll be comfortably warm at most. Besides, we’ve hugged a good couple of times, remember? And it’s all been fine then.”

“Rocky can’t forget, but mesh most fragmented and thin at claws. Best design for dexterity.” He flexed said claws as he spoke, clacking them together in his nervous tic. “What if mesh break, question?”

Grace snorted, rubbing the top of Rocky’s carapace with his knuckles. That was one of his favorite things about Rocky’s new suit, getting to give him an affectionate noogie every once in a while. Well, one of his favorite things besides the hugs. Rocky gave some really great hugs.

“With your engineering? Not likely. You’re overthinking. And if it does, I run to the EVA suit, get you back into your ball, and we figure it out from there. I won’t let anything bad happen, buddy.”

Rocky hesitated for a moment before raising his carapace towards his friend. “Promise, question?”

“Promise, statement.”

With Grace’s assurance, Rocky tentatively reached out a claw once more. Xenonite-covered armor found the skin of Grace’s side, just under where his ribcage ended, and simply rested there for a moment. Rocky was gentle, so much so that Grace almost urged him to use more pressure so he could better hear and feel the human body under his claw. This was a bit of a biology lesson, after all.

Then Rocky’s claws squeezed once, twice, three times in rapid succession as he gave a curious trill, cocking his carapace to the side and clicking to get a better view, and Grace discovered quickly he had something else to add to his “Who Am I?” board.

He, Doctor Captain Ryland Grace, the world’s leading authority in astrophage biology and one of the saviors of Erid and (hopefully) Earth, was ticklish.

Really, really ticklish.

The reaction was immediate. A bark of shocked laughter leapt from his throat without his permission, and he squirmed away with a wobbly smile.

Rocky, on the other hand, found this no laughing matter. He let out a series of sharp alarmed whistles and scrambled back. “Apology! Apology! Apology! Rocky hurt Grace! Suit malfunction! Apology! Bad bad bad!” he rambled in a panic, curling his legs under himself and pressing his two front limbs together, dipping his carapace behind them.

“Woah woah hey, easy there pal, you’re okay!” Grace rushed to assure him, reaching out a hand to usher him back. When Rocky stepped further away, Grace wasted no time in lifting up his shirt so Rocky could see where he had touched him. “Look! It’s not red, the skin isn’t irritated, you didn’t hurt me! You just tickled me, that’s all, no harm no foul. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

After several moments hesitation, Rocky crept closer, his body still low to the ground. The sight made Grace’s heart break a little bit. Man, their adventures in Tau Ceti’s system really messed the two of them up, didn’t they?

When Rocky was close enough, Grace put a hand on top of his carapace. Rocky leaned into it with low chitters. With his other hand he took Rocky’s claw, the one that Rocky believed had burned him. He shook it back and forth in a silly way to show his anxious alien friend how harmless it was.

“See? The suit doesn’t burn, and you were very gentle. You didn’t hurt me, bud,” Grace soothed, curling and relaxing his fingers to gently scratch at Rocky’s vents through his suit. Rocky seemed to like it, taking a step closer still while the tension in his body slowly subsided.

“Rocky not want to hurt Grace.” he finally said, his voice low. “Grace very important to Rocky. Rocky not forgive self if cause Grace pain like that again.”

Gosh darn it, Grace was not going to cry right now. He straight up refused.

“Oh, buddy, come here,” Grace sighed sadly, scooting close to Rocky and pulling him into his arms. Rocky pressed his carapace against the man’s chest and sang low and soft, wrapping two arms around Grace’s middle.

“You’re important to me, too. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.” He pulled away slightly to look at Rocky square, dipping his head as if forcing the eyeless creature to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing, and I mean nothing, you could do to me that I wouldn’t be able to forgive you for. All these…?” He gestured at his burn scars, “were gotten out of love. You loved me enough to risk your life to drag me to safety,” he pointed to the raised claw-print, “and I loved you enough to risk my life bringing you to your own atmosphere so you could heal,” he ended by rubbing his fingertips up and down the gnarly skin.

“Don’t disservice the both of us by chalking all these up to just pain. We fought hard to keep each other alive, and these are marks of that. Okay?”

Rocky nodded his carapace, a human mannerism he had picked up from his friend. “If Rocky were human, would probably be leaking right now. Very very leaky.”

Grace laughed, giving Rocky one last squeeze for good measure. “Ready to try again?” he asked, tapping Rocky’s carapace twice with the question. An Eridian mannerism he had picked up from his friend.

“Yes yes yes, feel better now.”

“Good!”

Rocky put his claw right back where it was, then paused once more. “Can Grace explain new word before continue, question?”

“New word, new word…” he wracked his brain, but it came up empty.

“What Grace say Rocky do when Grace flinch away from touch. Scare Rocky.”

“Oh! Yes, got it. So that was something called tickling. I’m not sure if you guys have a word for it, but basically it’s my body’s response to unexpected external stimuli.” Grace began. “It’s hypothesized that knismesis, which is a lesser, more itchy sensation, was evolved to detect insects or small parasites on the skin, while gargalesis, which is what I just experienced, is a more extreme reaction that elicites laughter and is linked to the fight or flight response. Though, no one’s really sure why that bit of it evolved. Maybe for social bonding through play, maybe to protect vulnerable parts of the body in combat, there’s a bunch of theories that no one can really prove for sure,” he finished with a shrug.

Did he know all this from doing a deep dive on ticklishness after learning rats could be ticklish in one of his science classes?

Yes. Yes, he did.

“You squeezed my side, which is a common ticklish spot, so my body moved away from the stimuli, being your claw, and made me laugh. Does that make sense?”

Rocky hums in acknowledgment. “Yes, make sense. Eridians have similar response to stimuli. Speculated to detect parasites and social bonding, same as humans. All Eridians ticklish. All humans ticklish, question?”

Grace filed that information away for later before shaking his head. “Not all of us, but most are.”

“Understand. Back to anatomy study now, question?”

“Yeah, we got a little sidetracked,” Grace chuckled.

Grace leaned back on his hands, his legs criss-crossed in front of him as he let Rocky do his thing once more, though this time there was a bit of an anticipatory smile pulling at his lips. Instead of resting his claw on Grace’s side like before, Rocky had opted for the chest approach this time, and Grace could only assume he was hearing past his ribcage and into the organs inside.

“Internal muscle pulsing and two others expanding with Grace breath. Heart and lungs, question?”

Grace gave him a thumbs up. “Ding ding ding, we got a winner!” he grinned. “Our respiratory systems are completely different from each other, but my heart and circulatory system works similarly to yours, except my heart pumps iron-based blood while yours is mercury, and I only have one while you have five. Make sense?”

“Yes yes yes. What bones made of, question?” Rocky asked, his claw trailing down to the human’s ribcage. It was hard to the touch, but Rocky was still incredibly careful.

The anticipation was back again, but Grace couldn’t really pinpoint why. Rocky had barely touched him, he couldn’t be that ticklish, could he? Maybe it was a fluke, a kneejerk reaction to his body not being properly touched in so long—

Squeeze squeeze.

Nope, definitely ticklish.

“CaHAlcium!” Grace yelped, cut off mid-answer by a rather obnoxious cackle. He cleared his throat, giving Rocky’s carapace a reassuring pat with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. “Sorry, calcium.”

Rocky didn’t retract his claw in fear this time (progress!) but he did still all movement and cocked his carapace. “Tickle response, question?”

“Yeah, heh. Yeah.”

“Heart rate elevated,” Rocky stated.

Grace gave a small laugh. “Part of said tickle response,” he said. “Like I said, it’s connected to our fight or flight instinct, which makes our body pump out adrenaline, which then increases our heart rate. It’s really cool actually, sometimes humans can get this crazy rush of adrenaline in life or death situations and get this insane stre-hehaha hehey!”

He was interrupted by his own frantic stammering when Rocky squeezed at his ribs again. Then the little rascal laughed at him, his trilling chirps sneakily squeaking through his vents!

“Hey! Are you doing that on purpose?” Grace asked, knitting his brows together and waggling an accusing finger at his friend.

“Mmmm. No.” Squeeze squeeze squeeze.

“You ahahahare you so are!” Grace couldn’t help but succumb to his giggles, tilting his head back with a wide grin and swatting at the offending claw. At least it was only one, and it was gentle-

Oh fudge there’s another one. There’s another claw.

Rocky had reached across with a second arm and began squeezing at the same spot on his other side. He gave a series of high pitched giggling chirps as he stepped over Grace’s lap, effectively pinning him to his spot on the walkway of the Don’t Go Crazy room. And, given his bulk and Grace’s already suffering abs from laughing, it took very little time for Grace to lie back on the ground as Rocky took him apart.

“W-wahahahahait nohohoho! Rockyhehehehe!” He wriggled and shoved at his friend’s carapace, unable to stop the peals of laughter forced from him at Rocky’s touch.

Rocky ceased his tickle attack and sat back on three of his five legs. “Rocky cause discomfort, question?”

Grace pushed himself back to sitting, leaning back on one hand while rubbing at the ghost tickles on his ribs with the other. He shook his head with a smile. “Noho, bud yohou’re oka-“

“Then Rocky continue tickle Grace!”

“W-wait whahaHAHAHAT?!”

Grace considered himself lucky Rocky was conscious of his weight and balance. If he wasn’t using his other three legs to keep himself steady and his center of balance secure, Grace wasn’t sure if he could handle any more claws sneaking in to tickle him. Rocky was ruthless!

Wriggling claws found their way under his arms, making him clamp his elbows to his sides in a futile attempt to block the attack. One claw relinquished in favor of squeezing at an elbow, which gave Grace a small but appreciated break at least on that side of his body. Rocky must have noticed the lack of reaction and opted to squeeze and pinch at his hips and knees instead. He definitely got his reaction there, Grace shrieked and bucked his hips with such intensity that had Rocky not been so heavy it might’ve thrown him off.

The more logical part of his brain noted the assault focused mainly on his joints, which must be common tickle spots for Eridians. However, the rest of his brain was too focused on being tickled absolutely stupid to care about that little tidbit.

Grace was in absolute hysterics. His brain had all but turned to mush, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth agape with boisterous laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard, if ever.

“Okahahahay okay! Rocky time ohohohout pahahahause plehehehease!” He pleaded, swatting Rocky’s claws in a pitiful attempt to fight the Eridian off. Rocky took mercy on him and complied with his request for a “time out” without hesitation. Grace pushed himself back up with heavy limbs, leaning back on his elbows and getting out the rest of his titters.

“Humans not have tickle spot like Eridian,” Rocky noted, pointing at Grace’s elbow. “Not ticklish, question? Is common Eridian spot.”

Grace looked at Rocky over his glasses with a raised brow, his head slightly bowed as he recovered from the playful attack. “Noho. No, because we have no vital organs there.”

“Then why is leg joint more ticklish than arm joint, question?”

Grace shrugged. “My guess is because humans are built for running, so our legs need more ‘training’ in avoiding injury.” He put the word “training” in air quotes. “That’s just my theory though. Everyone’s got areas that are more ticklish than others, like I said it’s up to a lot of speculation.”

Rocky hummed and wiggled his carapace as he digested the information. “Understand.” Then he went still, clicking and chirping away and tapping a claw against the ground. “So…humans commonly most ticklish where many vital organs are inside.”

“Correct.”

He pointed a claw at his friend’s stomach. “Rocky hear many organs here.”

Immediately Grace felt butterflies go absolutely ballistic in his belly. If that was any indication, he could piece two and two together that he was probably really ticklish there, even if he didn’t remember.

If he could, he would have shoved his foot so far in his big mouth it’d be seen where the sun doesn’t shine.

His body moved before his brain caught up, scooting back on his hands and his mouth forced into a giddy grin. Again, not a good sign. “R-Rockyhehehehe, c’mohon man-“

“Rocky learn human anatomy, must touch to hear beneath skin, Grace be still!” Rocky chirped, and Grace didn’t miss for a second the amused lilt that was ever present in his friend’s voice. The little bugger was having way too much fun at his expense.

Grace did not, in fact, be still. Grace had preferred to scramble to his feet and put said running legs to use. Well, he would have if Rocky hadn’t all but tackled him back to the ground. Grace was on his back again, staring wide eyed at his captor with a goofy smile on his face.

“Nohohoho wahait let’s talk we can talk about this Rocky plehehehease!”

Rocky said nothing. Granted, Grace wasn’t actually sure if he could speak through his squeaky giggles. He raised his claws in the air and scrunched them in and out. Oh god, that made it so much worse! And he had started to lower them to his stomach!

“NONONONO dohohon’t do it! Dohon’t doho ihihihit ROCKYHEHEHE-!”

Increasingly desperate pleas fell on impossibly deaf ears (jerk) as Rocky’s claws finally touched down. Well, crashed down was more accurate, for they had made contact on his stomach with such sudden ferocity that Grace honest to god screamed before trailing off into wheezes. Wheezes then turned into cackling belly laughter once he finally got a breath in.

“ROCKY!!! RohockyheHEHEHE NOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” Grace howled through his laughter, his flailing arms trying and failing to push Rocky off of him and defend his middle all at once.

He was very briefly reminded of the last time he was pinned to the ground in similar fashion, but instead of desperate sobs to spare his life, all that was driven from his mouth was giddy, carefree laughter as Rocky tickled him to pieces. It was honestly a little refreshing from the horrid memory.

Rocky was a little monster. He was trilling and giggling and whistling in a way that was reminiscent of cooing at something cute. Grace thought might actually die. From embarrassment or from being tickled to death, he wasn’t sure. Most likely a mix of the two.

“Grace! Be! Still!” Rocky reiterated, intensifying a squeeze with each whistling word. He was absolutely evil! His technique even more so! He squeezed and pinched and poked and skittered erratically with no rhyme or reason, swapping tactics in a way that drove his cackling victim up a wall.

The final nail in the coffin, though, was when Rocky had discovered the effectiveness of sticking his hands under Grace’s shirt and vibrating his curled claws rapidly back and forth. In all the months they’d known each other, the last and only time he’d heard Grace this loud was their first real meeting when Grace had shrieked with fear, wielding a wrench.

Now, under much sillier circumstances, Rocky was positively enamored with the joyful noise coming from his squishy companion under his claws. He could hear the surface of his smile, his nose wrinkled and scrunched, his brows furrowed and his eyes screwed shut with mirthful tears pricking at the corners, his glasses crooked on his face as he shook his head back and forth. And best of all, his laughter. Bright and happy and contagious even to a complete different species. Second only to his mate’s song, it was definitely Rocky’s favorite sound.

However, to both Rocky’s dismay and understanding, Grace could only take it for so long. In all seriousness, human adrenaline and stamina was something to be admired, but he was definitely reaching his limit.

“OHOHOHOH MY GOD OKAHAHAY!” he yelled, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs in the air as if trying to run from the ticklish touches. “ENOUGHENOUGHENOUGH UHUNCLE! UHUHUHUNCLE HAHAHAHAHA MEHEHERCYHEHEHEHE!!!”

Rocky scuttled off with incredibly fond giggles, perching by Grace’s head to fix his glasses and give him space to breathe. He carded his claws gently through the blond hair as Grace fought to regain his bearings. His chest heaved, his shoulders shaking with leftover breathless giggles.

“Yohohohou,” he huffed, pointing a floppy hand at the Eridian, “ahahare awfuhul!”

“And you are stuck on Hail Mary with Rocky for next four years,” Rocky quipped back through pleased chirrups.

“Bite me.”

“Rocky cannot bite, not have mouth.“

“Ihit’s a joke, bud.”

“Ah, understand.”

Jeez, he felt like he had just run a marathon. His abs hurt, his face was sore, his throat was hoarse. Rocky had really did a number on him. But despite all that, he couldn’t deny the pleasant buzz of dopamine in his brain from the physical exertion and all the laughter.

“God, I’m living with a flipping tickle monster,” he cleared his throat and groaned, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“Grace okay, question?”

“Oh yeahaha, pal, I’m all good.” More than all good, actually. Thinking back on the past few days filled with meal prep and rationing math and dread, he needed that. A good tussle was exactly what the doctor ordered. Even if it was pretty one-sided.

Rocky nudged Grace with his carapace once the human finally got his breath back. “Rocky turn next, question?”

Grace sat up and looked at Rocky with a quirked brow and crooked smile. “Yohou want me to tickle you back?” he asked, a chuckle lacing his voice. In all honesty Grace was planning some thorough revenge anyways, but he wasn’t expecting Rocky to ask for it outright!

“Yes yes yes,” Rocky chirped, doing his little jazz hands in place. “Grace want to learn Eridian biology, and tickle is bonding between good good good friends! Play, silly, happy happy happy for Grace and Rocky.”

Grace smiled from ear to ear. Oh, this guy had no idea what he’d just unleashed upon himself.

If Ryland Grace was anything, he was competitive. He wouldn’t let that moron with a doctorate tell him water was always necessary for life to evolve, he wouldn’t back down when Lokkens tried her best to convince him Earth life and astrophage evolved from completely different root species, and now he definitely wasn’t letting Rocky get off the hook for tickling him within an inch of his life.

“Are you sure about this, Rock?” He sing-songed. “Because I’m not going easy on you.”

“Rocky tough, Rocky take it!” the Eridian beside him whistled, sticking out his carapace boldly.

Oohohoh, challenge accepted buddy.

He curled his fingers into wiggly claws and tried his best to make his smile look more predatory, but he knew he just looked like a dork. He could live with that, he was happy to be goofing around with his best friend, dang it. “Your funeral!”

Grace gave Rocky zero buildup. No test squeezes, no pokes or taps, no trying to hide his intentions, just immediately digging aggressively into Rocky’s joints.

The pitch at which Rocky squealed was almost painful to his ears, but Grace was too giddy to care. He grabbed onto one of Rocky’s flailing limbs and pulled himself closer, curling his legs criss-cross-applesauce around his giggling friend.

“So, you wanna tell me where Eridians are most ticklish?” He asked, as casually as if he was having a normal conversation. He had to raise his voice a little bit over Rocky’s laughter. “You already told me about riiiiiight here!” He grabbed two of Rocky’s elbow joints and squeezed rapidly through the Xenonite mesh. Rocky did his best to scuttle away through shrill cackles, but only ended up tipping himself backwards onto his side, his legs flopping and flailing and looking for all the world like a mix between a spider and a turtle stuck on its back.

“Ohoh no you don’t!” Grace growled, getting onto his knees and reaching forward to follow Rocky’s momentum. He stuck his hands flat on Rocky’s sideways carapace, looming over him and grinning. “Spill it! Where else?”

“Grace….find out….for yourself!” Rocky challenged through his squeaky tittering.

Grace’s grin got impossibly wider as he curled his fingers, making Rocky squeal and his legs scrunch in anticipation. “Ohhhhhkay, you’re asking for it now!”

Caution of getting his fingers pinched to the wind, he clawed at the joints where Rocky’s arms met his body, where his “armpit” would be, and Rocky went absolutely berserk. He squirmed and flailed and cackled. It sort of sounded as if someone was shriek-laughing into one of the recorders the Grover-Cleveland music room used to have. Grace used to hate hearing that squeaky sound through the halls when the kids first learned to play the instrument, but now this similar sounding song was music to his ears.

“Soooooo I’m guessing the elbows and leg joints because that’s where parasites can get in, right?” Grace asked as he continued to take his friend apart. Said friend couldn’t speak through his cackling. Or, maybe he could, but it was so intermingled with his laughter that Grace or the translator couldn’t pick it up.

So, he slowed down a bit, letting Rocky get a breather in. His vents were steaming a little bit from the exertion. All that movement and laughter must’ve been a little taxing on his body. Another similarity between humans and Eridians.

Grace huffed an affectionate laugh through his nose, scratching gently at the top of Rocky’s carapace in a soothing way rather than a tickly one. He didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy. Or worse, send him into an unexpected slumber before he ate.

“Did you hear me, bud?” He asked, tapping twice. It was a normal behavior, but those two taps made Rocky squeak and giggle.

“Yes…Rocky hear…apology…need moment,” Rocky huffed, still tittering a little all the while.

“No worries, pal, take all the time you need,” Grace said, resorting from scratching to just rubbing the flat of his palm and pads of his fingers along the tip of the Xenonite suit. Rocky trilled, leaning as much as he could into it from his lopsided position.

“Alright buddy, on your feet,” Grace chuckled, bracing his feet against the floor and holding Rocky’s claws to pull him right-side up while Rocky pushed with his back legs. Rocky didn’t leave his position in Grace’s lap, though, he just curled his legs underneath him and settled right there.

“Okay, recover now,” Rocky announced. “Answer to Grace question is yes. Eridian joints much much much ticklish because easiest for parasites to enter body. Bad bad bad. But also limbs are place most touched by other Eridians. Sensory input from external stimuli aid in social interaction and bonding between individuals.”

Grace nodded along. “Gotcha. Not so different, are we pal?” He smiled fondly, tapping twice once more with his question on the top of Rocky’s carapace.

Once more came the giggling, making Grace smile in his endearment. “Whahat is going on, you’re never this giggly when I do that,” he asked, unable to help the laughter weaving in between his words.

“Grace tickle Rocky within minutes of deep sleep! Still tickle! Vibrations from question tap tickle!” Rocky said indignantly, poking Grace in the stomach and making him yelp and squirm.

“Okahay! OkAHAhahay I gehet it! My bahahad!” He laughed, holding the offending claw with one hand and clutching at his stomach with the other.

Rocky ceased his attack, giggling and swinging Grace’s hand back and forth like Grace had done with him several minutes before while looking rather pleased with himself.

“One of these days I’ll have to introduce you to the long-standing earth tradition of tickle fights,” Grace said with a smile, tapping Rocky’s carapace a little more to make him squirm. “We’d have to do it in zero G, though, otherwise you’d win by a long shot.”

“Yes yes yes, Rocky win fight. Much stronger than leaky space blob!”

“Yeah? Well I’m faster,” Grace retorted. “I could run you down any day of the week. I gotta teach you about persistence hunting one of these days.” An idea was quickly coming to mind on how that’s go down, a smile already curling his lips at the prospect.

“Faster not help when Rocky have Grace like this!”

Grace shrieked as Rocky’s claws shoved at his shoulders and pinned him down again, descending upon his belly once more shortly after and immediately eliciting cries for surrender. “AAAHAHAHA OKAY OKAY YOU WIN!!! YOU WIHIHIN GET OHOHOFFA MEHEHEHEHEHE!”

Rocky took mercy on him quick, thankfully, backing off with smug giggles and helping Grace back up.

“Nohoho…noho more for today, alright? I’m beat,” Grace giggled, waving his hand back and forth and shaking his head with a smile still plastered on his face.

“Yes yes yes, Grace sleep, Rocky watch!” Rocky chirped happily. They gathered the translator and notebook (the pen had been kicked off of the walkway in the scuffle and was long gone), and made their way to the dormitory.

It was a routine that took very little time to fall into. Grace changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth with Rocky giving him his privacy as normal, Grace settling into bed and getting cozy under the covers as normal, and then lifting up the quilt so Rocky could hop up and settle down to watch, which was their new normal. Grace even kept the room a little cooler than the rest of the ship, so he wouldn’t overheat with Rocky snuggled up next to him.

Rocky curled three of five limbs comfortably underneath his carapace, the other two left free to wander and keep busy as Grace slept. One drifted up to run through Grace’s hair, while the other splayed across his chest.

“You know,” Grace said after a moment, a yawn following his voice, “I think this is one of your best ideas to date,” he smiled. Sure, the idea to eat the Taumoeba may end up saving his life, hopefully, but he was pretty sure this whole being able to touch thing saved his heart and soul. He couldn’t believe he and Rocky had gone so long without a proper hug.

Rocky chirped in amusement, his frequency rumbling deep into Grace’s chest. “Grace stupid from little sleep and too much tickles,” he said, and Grace could recognize his tone as incredibly fond. It made his chest feel fuzzy with affection. Still can’t take a compliment. One more thing they had in common. “Grace sleep, I watch.”

“Good night, Rocky.”

“Good night, Grace.”