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"Augh- Ryland!" You scrunch up your shoulders, and glare at Grace, who has snuck up behind you and swiped a finger down your neck as a greeting. He's recently discovered you're ticklish, and has thus been treating you like some kind of giggly stress ball.
Grace ignores your protest, and pulls up a chair next to you, glancing at the lab notebooks strewn everywhere.
"How's it going over here?"
"Not bad, thanks to your amazing work." You motion to the many calculations he's helped you with on the whiteboard - predictions for various aspects of the Taumoeba's metabolism. It involves a lot of diagrams and balancing a lot of equations. He flushes a little, muttering something about it being "just undergrad level". One of these days, you'll get him to just take a fucking compliment. Alas, today is not that day.
You turn to face the workbench, where several test tube racks are shoved behind your laptop, which in turn holds a lot of depressing readouts from the spectrophotometer.
"Having a little trouble with some stubborn protein contaminants. Look at this."
You point at your screen. Ryland squints, clearly unable to parse the tiny font from his lab stool. You roll your eyes.
"Ugh- Come here-" You grab his glasses from where they're hanging by his chin, and start sliding them into place. It's such a thoughtless gesture that you're already turning to continue your explanation before they're fully on.
Except you're interrupted by a giggle.
You turn back around, glancing at your hands, which still hold his glasses...but Ryland is no longer attached to them. He's shrunk back, a small grin tugging at his lips, one hand covering his ear.
"Surely not..." You mutter. "Don't tell me your ears are ticklish."
"I...won't tell you that, then." He murmers, which is a confession in itself.
He knows this. You can see him thinking it through, the same way you are. A second passes, and the two of you lock eyes.
...He bolts. Predictable.
You give chase, scrambling after him down the corridor as he starts shouting platitudes over his shoulder.
"Listen, hey, we don't have to do this-"
"We absolutely do!"
"Nope! Not happening!" He careens around a corner, nearly tripping over his own feet. By the time you catch up, the corridor appears empty. Perhaps he's gone into a side room.
Of course. The door to the wellness room is slightly open. You hold your breath, and sneak towards the entrance, pulling yourself against the wall so he can't see you coming.
One...two...three.
You throw open the door, and sure enough, Ryland is hiding on the other side. He shrieks, but it's too late. He's backed himself into a corner.
"uh oh."
"Hiding was a silly idea."
"Worth a try, though-"
"You aren't very good at it."
"Ok, let me try again, then?" Grace gives you his best puppy eyes. You almost cave, but think back to the number of times he's ignored your own pleading looks in these situations.
"Hm," you grin, swiftly tackling him to the floor. "Nah."
"Waitwaitwait-" He tries to shuffle backwards on his elbows, but you sit over his legs, knees pinning his hands in place. You've wasted enough time; you reach out as fast as you can, and swipe one finger over the shell of his ear.
It's immediately obvious why Ryland ran across the ship to avoid this.
"AHA- Nooooo! nonoNO-" He screeches, shoulders hunching up. His hands break free; they come up and try to block you, but you pin them out of the way again.
"I can't believe you kept this from me. After everything you put me through!" You convey your utter betrayal by fanning your fingers out behind his ear, swirling random patterns over the skin. Grace breaks into frantic giggles, his neck rapidly turning an adorable shade of red.
"Pleasepleaseplease-ahaha-It tickles!"
"Good."
"I'll- I'll do anythihing! Whatever you wahant! Just, please- MERCY" Grace cackles, snorting when you lean in to blow a gentle breeze onto his ear.
"Hm," you mutter, giving him a break so he can hear you talking. "...Anything? Let me think."
He's still giggling, the blush having spread up his neck to his face. Of course, he could have fought you off if he wanted to - you're acutely aware of the fact he's stronger than you. Something to tease him about later, perhaps. Your fingers trail over his sides as you keep thinking.
"I need something you'll hate..."
"I'll promise not to tickle you anymore- that's -aha- that's what this is about, right?"
You pause. This is dangerous territory. You'd never minded it, but he'd never stop teasing you if you openly admitted that. The best tactic is probably to change the subject.
"Excuse me, I'm the one deciding here." You return to his ear again, ever-so-lightly scratching around the helix, and he falls back into hysterics. "I could...make you do all the laundry for a month."
"Yehes- sure, fine!"
"...Nah, you agreed to that too quick."
You decide to give his ears a break, instead snaking your hands under his shirt to squeeze at his tummy. It sends him into absolute fits. A wide, carefree smile lights up his face, and his hands, having broken free a second time, clutch at his hair like he can't decide what to do with them. It puts a smile on your face too, seeing him like this. He doesn't laugh often enough - not genuinely, anyway. Neither of you do.
And then the idea hits you.
"Oh, I know what you'll hate."
Ryland goes still despite the fact you haven't stopped tickling - like he knows what's coming next.
"I want you..." You grin, drumming your fingers over his sides in a way that makes his breath catch, "...to tell me what a great scientist you are."
Grace gives you a look of utter dread.
"That's ridiculous," He huffs. "No one says that about themselves."
"And you won't accept it coming from someone else. So this will be a great step forward."
"When I get out, I'm going to tickle you so much-"
You don't let him finish; you immediately squeeze at his hips and watch the way he instinctively grabs at your wrists, never quite pushing you away.
"Are you gonna say it?"
"Noho!"
You scribble up his sides, and the pitch of his laughter slides higher again.
"Are you gonna say it?"
"NO!"
An evil idea occurs to you. "You have a nice laugh. You could admit that instead, if you'd prefer?"
"aha- screhew you!"
Your hands have reached his ribs, now. They poke gently at each one, and Ryland completely melts, covering his face and making a flustered sort of noise that's swiftly overtaken by helpless chuckles.
You slowly creep your fingers up higher and higher, watching as Grace gets increasingly embarrassed.
"Plehease, oh no, nono, that really tickles!"
He brings his arms down once you reach the top of his ribcage, head thrown back in near-silent laughter. Feeling a little sorry for him, you ease up, holding yourself still. However, it quickly becomes apparent that he's trapped your hands under his arms, and can't seem to stop making himself laugh, even though you've stopped moving.
"Oho- jeez-"
You give him an expectant look, flexing your fingers ever so slightly, sending him into more giggles.
"Ok, ok ok ok-" He babbles, adjusting his glasses. There's a moment of hesitation. "Uh...I'm... "
"...Yes?"
"I'm...a good scientist."
You retract your hands, satisfied. "Yes. You are."
Part of you wants to get him to say 'great' instead of 'good' - wants to keep that smile on his face for as long as possible. But, looking at him, you know he's giving you his best effort. You can see in his eyes that he's not ready for anything more than 'good'.
Something swirls uncomfortably in your chest with that knowledge.
If Grace notices the slight waver in your smile, he doesn't mention it. He's too busy propping himself up by the elbows, trying to wipe the silly grin off of his face.
You get up, and extend your hand towards his, trying to shake off the feeling. "Come on, you."
He swats your hand away with a pout. "No, I'm not talking to you right now."
There's absolutely no venom behind it.
"Ok, I guess the first ever Taumoeba WGS can wait, then. I'll make sure it's just my name on the paper."
He grins. "Oh, will you now?"
You lean against the wall. "Well, maybe I'll put you in the acknowledgements. Moral support, or whatever."
A moment of silence. He considers this. You consider the mischief creeping onto his face, and the way his fingers twitch ever so slightly; a barely noticeable motion that is definitely intended as a threat. He sees you notice, sees the cogs turning in your head.
The two of you lock eyes.
...You bolt. Predictable.