Chapter Text
"I'm..." Simon's breathing caught between words. "I... I didn't..." His gaze darted anywhere but Grace.
Grace barely registered what had happened.
"Hey." Grace stood carefully, palms open. "It's alright."
Simon shook his head hard.
"It's okay." Grace took one cautious step forward. "Simon, look at me."
Simon jumped away. Grace stopped immediately.
"I'm sorry," Simon blurted. "I shouldn't have. Fuck." His words tangled together with his heavy breathing. His hand clenched and unclenched. Simon was panicking. Grace’s confusion vanished as he saw Simon unraveling.
"It's okay," Grace repeated, softer now. "You're okay."
Simon just kept shaking his head. "I crossed..." He swallowed. "I’m sorry."
"Simon." Grace forced himself to keep his voice level. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Simon stared at him like he hadn't understood. Grace wished Rocky were here. He always knew what to say when Grace was on the verge of a panic attack. He'd never really been good at comforting anyone on his own.
"I promise," he said carefully. "You're safe. I'm not upset."
"I'm sorry." Simon looked away
"You don't have to apologize."
"I'm sorry."
Very carefully, Grace lowered himself back into his chair. "I won't come any closer." That finally made Simon look up. Grace offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "We're okay."
Simon looked unconvinced. "I just..." His voice cracked. He motioned towards the door.
Grace nodded before he had to. "Okay."
Simon paused for a heartbeat, looking like he wanted to say something else.
Instead, he turned. His footsteps were almost silent against the kitchen floor. A moment later came the soft click of the bathroom door.
Then silence.
Grace stayed exactly where he was.
A cotton swab still rested between his fingers. He looked down at it absently before setting it back into the kit. He let out a slow breath.
Oh, Simon…
Grace rubbed a hand over his face. He'd clearly pushed too far with the examination. He should've stopped sooner. But he couldn't deny how he reveled in watching the tension drain from Simon's shoulders. He should've— His hand froze halfway down his face.
Simon had kissed his hand. Kissed him.
Grace stared at the empty doorway. Heat rushed up his face so suddenly that he could only bury his head in his hands.
"Oh, God."
Simon’s skin was so warm and shockingly soft under Grace’s hand. Grace had traced a scar on the side of Simon’s neck. The faint outline of a tattoo that'd been burned off made it obvious that these gills were a relatively recent addition. Simon melted into every touch. Grace just had to indulge him, just to feel the rumble of Simon’s throat when he hummed. Then Simon kissed him. It was a tiny, tiny thing that he couldn't stop replaying. The brush of stubble against his palm and Simon’s dark eyes looking up at him
Grace groaned into his hands.
That isn't what this was supposed to be. Simon was finally trusting him. He let someone touch him. And Grace had been so caught up in Simon and his gills beneath his hands that he forgot how vulnerable it really was.
What’s more, Simon lifted his shirt without hesitation.
Grace’s ears burned. Oh man, Simon lifted his shirt to let Grace see. And Simon shivered when– Oh god.
No. No. No. Grace must really be a horrible, cruel person. He was supposed to be helping Simon.
He'd promised Simon he could stop at any time. Even if Simon didn't pull away, Grace wasn’t so sure it counted as permission to keep going. Simon's trust was not an excuse for Grace to let his hands linger when they didn't need to. And his Intentions didn't matter much if Simon had still walked away looking so afraid
He drew in a slow breath and forced himself to his feet. Sitting here wasn't helping either of them. Simon was hiding in the bathroom. Maybe Grace should give him some time alone. Maybe an hour. Maybe longer.
He gathered the swabs and the kit with clumsy hands before standing. As he stepped into the hallway, movement caught his eye.
Simon.
He’d opened the bathroom door as soon as Grace walked past it. They froze at the same time.
“Oh.” Simon looked like he was caught listening for Grace's footsteps.
“H-hey,” Grace said.
“Hey.” Simon’s voice was impossibly small.
"I, uh..." Grace cleared his throat. "I don't think we'll need any more samples tonight. We're, uh, good to go.”
“Okay,” Simon nodded. His eyes flitted everywhere except at Grace.
Grace searched for something ordinary to say. Something that didn't sound so awkward coming out of his throat to ease the tension between them.
"...Are..." He winced at himself. "Are we... still sharing the bed tonight?
Nope. That was worse.
Simon's shoulders stiffened. "...No."
“Okay,” Grace scolded himself for being disappointed.
"...Okay."
Grace adjusted his grip on the kit. A moment of silence stretched for what felt like an hour, but was probably less than a second. Simon fidgeted with his charm
"I'm sorry," Grace blurted out.
"No, you don't..." Simon looked up immediately.
"I should've—"
“We should just forget about it," Simon interrupted.
Grace closed his mouth. Simon looked utterly exhausted.
"Please." He continued, "It doesn't have to... mean anything."
Grace's stomach twisted. It meant… Well, he didn't know what exactly it meant right now, but it definitely meant something. But Simon looked so horrified by that possibility that Grace couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"...Okay." Grace said, "If that's what you want."
Simon nodded once.
Neither of them said goodnight.
Grace turned first. The walk to his room felt much longer than usual. His bedroom suddenly felt enormous. Grace sat on the edge of the mattress, staring absently at the wall and listening to the sounds of Simon's footsteps heading into the living room.
Forget about it. Right. Of course. Simon didn't want to think about it. Grace could respect that.
He switched off the lamp. Darkness settled over the room. Grace lay on his back, hands folded over his stomach. The bed wasn't warm anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Simon leaning into his hand. Heard that deep voice. Felt lips against his palm. Grace sighed and flipped so he could groan face-first into his pillow. Quietly, of course. Simon didn't need to hear that.
"Forget it," he commanded himself, muffled by the pillow, “Just forget it”
Eventually, exhaustion won.
At first, the dream felt familiar.
Yellowing grass beneath his shoes.
He started walking. Then running. He was reaching for the fence just beyond him, and dogs barked behind him.
Too late. Too slow.
He was pushed against the ground. He felt so many hands holding him down.
He took a deep breath in to yell out, but the needle had already pressed into his skin.
Grace jerked awake. His heart hammered against his ribs.
For one terrifying second, he didn't know where he was. When his room came back into focus, he drew in a shaky breath.
He never really fell asleep again. He drifted in and out, never staying under long enough for the dreams to fully form.
When the morning came, the blankets didn't hold extra warmth. Grace stared at the empty space for much longer than he should've.
He reached for his glasses. His hand bumped something on the table. A mug. Lazy steam curled out of it. Simon had made him coffee again.
So, Simon wasn't angry enough to stop making him coffee.
That had to mean something…right?
He found Simon exactly where he'd expected. The junk in the storage room had been pulled into boxes on rows across the floor, far from the random piles they used to be in. Simon was kneeling beside a couple of boxes, methodically sorting tools into neat piles. With the amount of junk in this room, this kind of organization must have taken hours. How long had Simon been awake?
He looked when Grace stepped inside.
"Morning." Grace leaned on the doorframe. The weakness in his voice surprised him.
"… Morning.” Then Simon looked back down. Grace set the mug down beside the door.
"...Need a hand?" Grace said. Simon looked up at him. Oh god. Of all the sayings– “I mean, I know you're missing one, but I meant- like if you need help?”
"I'm alright." Simon didn't acknowledge Grace's fumble. He just went back to work.
"I can see that." Grace stepped farther into the room.
He knelt, reaching for a box when-
“I've got it.” Simon grabbed the box before Grace could.
"...You don't have to do everything yourself." Grace said, “I was supposed to be doing this.”
"I'm already doing it." Simon picked up a larger box of electronics.
Grace reached for it. "Those are heavy."
"They're not." Simon set them down, farther away from Grace.
Simon didn’t usually give long answers, but today he was especially curt.
"Let me do it." Grace pulled a box closer to him.
Simon immediately shook his head. And pulled it back. "No."
"I'm pretty sure I live here." Grace tugged the box
"I know." Simon again pulled it back
"So..." Grace pulled.
"I've got it." Simon finally got it out of his grip.
"...Simon."
"You should rest."
"Rest?” Grace grumbled, “I should be telling you to rest.”
“You look tired.”
“Oh, thanks.” Grace grimaced.
"You didn't sleep well." Simon shrugged
"...How do you know that?"
Simon immediately looked like he regretted saying it. He swallowed. "I just...I heard you."
Grace felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he heard. Rocky told him that when they were on Mary, whenever Grace had nightmares, he would murmur to himself in his sleep. At least Grace hoped Simon had only heard murmuring, since it was always a tougher conversation with Rocky when he cried out in his sleep. Those days, he'd wake up with hiccuping breaths and a tear-stained pillow.
"I'm sorry," Grace said
"...What? Why?"
Answers rushed into his mind. Because woke Simon up? Because he ruined whatever trust they’d started building? Because he'd reacted without thinking, and it made Simon backed away from his hand? None of those answers felt reachable
Instead, he settled on, "...For not starting on this sooner,” Grace pulled a box towards himself.
Simon shook his head. "Your coffee will get cold."
“Simon,” Grace folded his arms. “Do you really want me to go?”
If Simon said yes, he would leave. He'd smile, make up some excuse about needing the lab anyway, and leave Simon alone because that's what he asked for. But every part of him hoped Simon wouldn't. He didn't think Simon wanted to be alone. Grace certainly didn't.
Simon's hands stilled against the box. Grace expected him to retreat into himself. Instead, his jaw tensed ever so slightly, but he didn’t disappear. Silence was always a little easier than honesty, even when Grace found himself always filling it. Easier to swallow what he felt than risk saying the wrong thing. Simon was always using it to his advantage.
“I just…” Simon drew in a slow breath. He rubbed at the edge of the cardboard with his thumb. "…I figured you probably wanted some space.” Simon straightened a stack of boxes that didn't need it. “So... I figured I'd keep busy. Didn't want to make things worse”
"Simon..."
"I was trying to stay out of your way."
Grace took one slow step closer. “You think I want you out of my way?"
Simon looked genuinely confused. "I mean..." He gestured vaguely, "After yesterday, you… Never mind..."
Grace pushed his glasses higher on his nose. He paused “Are you…Are you not angry at me?"
“What?” Simon looked up. "Angry?"
"Yes?"
Simon's eyebrows pulled together. "I thought you were angry at me."
“What?” Grace threw his hands up. “I’m not! I– You– you won't look at me. You won't let me help.”
"… That's fair,” Simon said.
Grace sighed in relief. “I’m not angry at you, Simon.”
Simon's shoulders loosened. It was like he'd been bracing for a different answer. “I’m not either.”
Neither of them spoke for a while after that.
Grace picked up the next box. Instead of reaching for it, Simon simply stayed beside Grace and began sorting through another box. The silence wasn't very comfortable, but it wasn't entirely empty either.
Every so often, their hands reached for the same screwdriver or stack of notebooks. Every time, one of them quietly pulled back to let the other have it.
"...Sorry," they both said at once.
Grace huffed a laugh despite himself. Eventually, Simon slid another box between them. Grace took one side without a word. Simon took the other. They sorted in silence.
A few minutes later, another box was empty. Then another.
Before either of them realized it, they had settled into an easy rhythm. Simon sorted. Grace labeled. Simon carried. Grace stacked. The room slowly transformed around them as forgotten corners reappeared beneath decades of clutter. Neither of them mentioned the night before. Neither quite knew how. Now and then, Grace caught Simon watching him. Every time Grace looked back, Simon found something else to do.
Grace suspected he did much the same.
Simon was completely absorbed in whatever he held. He turned every object over before deciding where it belonged, studying old tools with quiet curiosity, gently brushing dust from faded labels before setting them aside. Sometimes he asked how they worked or if they should get rid of it. Even with one hand, he'd found little ways to steady things against his knee or hip. Movements that looked so practiced.
Simon picked up a dust-coated tablet from the bottom of a box. "Keep?"
"Oh! I meant to look for that!” Grace reached over and tapped the dark screen. “This has almost every book Earth has written."
Simon turned it over in his hand. "Have you read much?"
“Not as much as I should.” Grace smiled despite himself. “Do you?”
“No. I always get a headache.” Simon said.
"Do you need glasses?” Grace laughed. Simon shrugged. “Wait, Simon, do you actually?”
“Probably,”
A couple of minutes later, after they got the tablet to charge, Grace’s glasses were settled on Simon’s nose.
He blinked a couple of times and raised his eyebrows. “This is a little easier,” Simon said. There was a quiet sort of wonder in his voice. Grace looked over. His heart gave an embarrassing little flutter. Simon looked... unfairly nice in his glasses.
“You can keep the tablet. You’ll probably get more use out of it.” Grace said too quickly, “Lucky for you, I have an extra pair of glasses somewhere around here, so you can borrow those too. " He tried very hard to sound casual, “Whenever you want.”
The corners of Simon's mouth lifted. It wasn't the tiny, uncertain expression Grace had grown used to.
It was simply... a smile. Small and real.
Grace forgot what he'd been about to say.
“Thanks,” Simon said. Grace nodded.
They drifted into easier conversation after that.
It wandered from strange tools neither of them recognized, to the oldest thing Grace had ever found in storage, to whether Rocky could hear something flying toward him, and finally to Grace insisting they did not need to test that theory. None of it really mattered. That was what made it nice. The work kept their hands busy while the conversation drifted wherever it pleased. Every so often, Grace found himself glancing at Simon without thinking, praying he might catch another smile.
The afternoon slipped by almost unnoticed.
Simon paused in the middle of reaching for another box. His head tilted ever so slightly.
"...Grace?"
Grace looked up from a stack of labels. "Hm?"
Simon looked toward the hallway. "...Did you say something?"
Grace blinked. "No."
Simon stayed still for another second. "...Never mind." He looked strangely disappointed. He shook his head once, as though trying to clear it, then stood.
"I'm going to..." His eyes drifted toward the open doorway before settling back on Grace. "...Check on the garden."
"Anything I can help with?"
"No."
Grace watched him disappear into the hallway. He thought about following.
Instead, he looked around the room they'd finally managed to organize and smiled to himself. Simon had done most of the heavy lifting, but he'd stayed. He'd talked. He'd smiled.
Grace had asked Simon to trust him. So even though Simon seemed a bit off, the least Grace could do was trust Simon in return.
- - - -
Later, when Rocky came over, they ended up in the living room arguing over the implementation of a weather system into the biodome.
"But, making it warm kind of defeats the point," Grace insisted.
“Humans enjoy dangerous things.” Rocky chimed.
"I'm not asking for thunder or anything,” Grace laughed. “Just a drizzle”
"Grace has irrigation. Grace has a shower. Grace has a beach..." Rocky let out a hum that Grace had long since decided meant disagreement.
“We shouldn't decide by ourselves, though, Grace said. "I think Simon has a…thing about water. He should get a vote too."
Simon never walked close to the shoreline if there was another path. He skipped the shower room entirely, choosing the old astronaut sponge bath whenever he could. Introducing rainfall into the biodome without asking Simon first felt irresponsible.
"It's his home too." Grace looked around the room almost absentmindedly.
“Where is Simon?” Rocky asked,
Grace shrugged. He checked the time. "He went to the garden a while ago. Let’s go find him. We can argue about the water pressure together."
When they stepped outside, the warmth of the house had given way to cool ocean air. Gray clouds hung low over the sea, soft enough to blur where the horizon ended and the sky began. Waves rolled against the grey rocks in a slow, steady rhythm.
Grace spotted Simon almost immediately.
He was walking along the edge of the beach. Back and forth. Just pacing the same stretch of rocky shoreline over and over, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the waves.
Grace slowed. "...Simon?"
Whenever they came this way, Simon's eyes stayed on the path beneath his feet or on Grace, anywhere but the ocean. Now he couldn't seem to look anywhere else.
“What is Simon searching for?” Rocky's claws clicked against the stone beside him.
“I don’t know,” Grace said. They drew closer. “Simon? Did you drop something?”
Simon muttered something in response.
At least...Grace thought he did. The words were so quiet they vanished beneath the surf.
“What was that?” Grace asked. Simon’s murmuring rose and fell beneath his breath, steady and rhythmic, as though he were carrying on a conversation with someone just out of earshot. “Simon?” Still, Simon paced without an answer.
Grace turned to Rocky. “Can you make any of that out?”
“… Doesn’t make sense.” Rocky tapped his claws into the shore. He was concerned too, “May the roots run deep. Guide my hand. Very repetitive.”
Plenty of people muttered nonsense to themselves when they were distracted. Or anxious. Or tired. But Simon wasn't distracted. He wasn't even looking at them.
“He is repeating about following a path to light,” Rocky said, listening again.
There was a strange sense of familiarity in the repetitiveness, the rhythm.
Simon never gave specifics about Eden, but pieces slipped of their belief systems through anyway. The way he spoke about worthiness and being useful. About angels.
Was Simon Praying?
Grace hurried ahead and stepped into Simon's path.
Simon didn't stop. For one awful second, Grace thought he was going to walk straight into him. Only at the last instant did Simon's body hesitate. Not because he'd recognized Grace. Simon looked up, their eyes meeting. Or...almost. They were unfocused, as though Grace were standing behind a sheet of glass.
Simon went frighteningly still while the world continued around him. His muttering stopped.
"...Simon?" Grace searched his face.
No panic or confusion. Only that same distant expression. Then Simon's eyes drifted back toward the ocean. Back to whatever he was seeing there..
"Simon..." Grace whispered.
This time, he reached out and gently cupped Simon’s shoulder. Grace's chest tightened.
Why now? They were having such a nice day earlier. Simon had smiled. Really smiled. Now it was nowhere to be seen again. Just a thousand-yard stare.
Grace followed Simon's gaze to the shore.
Rocky paused too, listening intently to find anything.
Then, Simon’s hand was on his wrist. Grace turned to see Simon staring through him, lips barely moving. But this time, Grace was close enough to hear him.
"...Guide my hands."
"Simon," Grace said again, softer this time. “Hey, Simon? Can you hear me?"
Simon moved.
Grace barely had time to register the sudden force before he was thrown backward. His heel caught on the uneven rock.
The world lurched. His shoulder struck the ground first. Then the back of his head.
For one disorienting second, all Grace saw was the gray sky overhead. Next, Simon was above him, pinning him against the stones.
His breath caught.
No. Not again. For one impossible moment, he thought he was still asleep. Still trapped in that nightmare.
Lying on the yellowing grass while hands shoved him down. His heart hammered as the memory and reality blurred together.
Then the sting in his shoulder sharpened. The rough stone dug into his palm. Simon raised his fist into the air.
The crash of the waves filled his ears. This was real.
Grace barely managed to gasp out, "Simon—"
Rocky launched himself into Simon's side with a sharp cracking sound that made Grace's stomach turn.
The force of the impact knocked Simon sideways and broke his grip on Grace.
"Grace, move!"