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“Wait, listen-listen-”
You pause, gesturing for Ryland to speak. He’s backed against the wall, hands held up in front of him.
Rocky has perched just behind the xenonite barrier dividing the ship, front legs folded as he watches. He has no stake in the matter at hand; after all, his side of the ship is kept a perfectly toasty 210 degrees, at all times. He doesn’t have to deal with a roommate who constantly turns the temperature control down without telling you.
Ryland holds up his arms, the picture of innocence. “In my defence, it took you three hours to notice, so it can’t have been that bad.”
“We had an agreement!” You press a hand to your brow, but grimace at how cold your fingers are.
“I was sweating!” Grace laments, “If it’s so cold, you should move in with Rocky!”
“I would like that,” Rocky chimes in.
“Yea, me too,” You sympathise. “Maybe then I’d be able to feel my hands.”
“It’s not my fault you’re anaemic!”
“It’s not my fault you’d still need aircon on Uranus!”
“Oh, come on- Rocky, help me out here-”
“No, Rocky not help. We had deal. Grace promised he would not do again. Grace has done again…twice.”
“Twice?!?!” You glare at Ryland. He shrinks.
“I saw him change controls last night.” Rocky supplies. Grace throws his hands up in betrayal.
“C’mon, man!”
“Okay, that’s it-” You tut, and immediately shove your ice cold hands towards him, holding them against his neck. Ryland shrieks, scrunching his shoulders up, but he’s too slow.
“What’s the matter? I thought you were boiling!” You laugh, following him down as he sinks to the floor in a poorly thought out escape strategy.
“Getoffgetoffgetoff-” He swats at you uselessly. You ignore his pleas for mercy, shifting your fingers to get a better grip.
“Ha- hey! That tickles!!”
There’s a pause between both of you as Grace realises his mistake.
You grin. “Hmm, my hands still aren’t warm enough.”
His eyes go wide. “No, no- nO-” He breaks off into another squeal, shoving at your hands as they pop under his shirt to scribble at his sides.
“Yea, this is better.”
“It is not, you little- ah!” He’s giggling now, sinking further down against Rocky’s wall.
“Get him!” Rocky taps the barrier to show his support. He’s seen enough playfights between you two to know what’s happening.
“Rock, you -aha - you traitor!” Ryland yelps out, slapping at the wall behind like it’s going to do anything.
You fake a frown. “Don’t talk to Rocky like that.”
Grace flails aimlessly; he’d probably be able to get away if he actually had an ounce of coordination, which you are both aware he lacks even on a good day.
In a way, it makes your job easier - his arms don’t know what to do with themselves, which leaves his ribs conveniently unguarded. You make your next attack there, and can’t help but laugh at his immediate squeal. A blush is creeping onto his cheeks.
“Plehease- I- sorry, sohorry Rocky! Hehelp me buddy!”
“Hm. No. Like when Grace laugh. Do not get to hear often.”
“Noho! Shut up-”
“'Shut up?' That's rude,” You interject. “What should we do about that, Rock?”
“His stomach is bad. I poked once and he jumped a lot.”
“No,no, dohon’t do it-”
There is a flash of fear on Grace’s face which you quickly lose sight of, because he immediately throws his head back the minute you test this theory. Loud, high pitched giggling fills the ship.
“Mehercy! Hehelp! It tihickles!” Ryland finally figures out how to get his arms to shove at your hands. It does nothing.
“Yea, that does look like it tickles,” You observe, delighting in the way Grace immediately tries to hide his face. You look over at Rocky. “Good call, bud. Thanks.”
“Welcome. Grace apologise now, question?”
“Yehehes, please! Please, I’m sohorry-”
“You're sorry, and…?” You slow up a bit, letting him catch his breath and adjust his dishevelled glasses through the hysterics. He props himself up on his elbows, still fighting off laughter.
“Whahat do you mean ‘and’?”
“Are you gonna do it again?”
He pauses. You notice just enough hesitation in his face that you decide a second attack is warranted. Your hands scribble at the sides of his tummy, and he immediately falls back to the floor.
“Ohokay, okay! I’m -aha- I’m sorry, and I won’t do it agahain!”
You stop, and look at Rocky again.
“What do you think? That good enough?”
“Yes.”
Ryland sighs in relief.
Rocky speaks a second time, and the translation takes a moment to kick in.
“If he does again, you tickle again.”
“Excellent idea.” You offer Ryland a hand. Begrudgingly, he takes it.
He starts stretching his arms, like he’s just remembered how to control them, then pauses. “You, uh, needed to warm up, right?”
You hesitate. Something about his grin - the tilt of his head, too - makes you back up slightly. He wriggles his fingers at you.
“...I think running might help with that.”