Archive of Our Own

It had been 5 months since the teacher had taken in the bloody and feral man. Simon.

Simon had been a challenge, to say the least. Grace didn’t blame him. After learning what he had gone through, what he had survived, he was surprised he warmed up to him at all, let alone Rocky and the other Erdians.

Their first encounter had gone less than ideally. Grace had found him washed up on his artificial beach that the Eridians had so lovingly created just for him. He found he couldn’t sleep that night and after hours of tossing and turning, he resigned himself to the fact he was not going to sleep and decided to take a walk, as he often did. But his usual ever nonchanging biome had changed, only slightly. The addition of a half dead man covered in blood and missing an arm had altered this peaceful place.

Grace had run up to him, sliding onto his knees as he reached him, unable to keep himself from staring in bewilderment. How in the fudge had a human not only made it to Erid, but gotten into the dome and into his little ocean? That same ocean lapped at the man, taking the blood that coated him, and whisking it away, the red dissipating into the blue like it was trying to help.

Grace slammed his ear onto his chest, holding his breath to make sure he could hear it. And it was there. A heartbeat. Albeit very slow and quiet, he had one, and Grace decided. He hooked his arms under the man’s and dragged him as best he could back to the house. How he did it, he’s not too sure himself. With how wet he was from the water and blood he had slipped more than a few times but had managed to drag him to Armando and settle him good enough for the robotic arm to begin tending to the man.

He had collapsed to the floor, resting his back on the wall, and let himself breath. His arms and legs burned but he stayed and watched, a habit from living with Eridians.

He took his time observing and making mental notes. He took note of the missing left limb, the scars that decorated most of the man’s left side, the sharp teeth that sprouted from his cheek but seemed separate from his main mouth. He noticed the 3 lines on the left side of his neck that flexed very slightly at each steady breath, giving the impression of gills. Black hair pooled around his head, greasy and soaked in blood, Grace making another mental note to thoroughly wash it. It reached his shoulders and stuck to his skin, framing his face. He was built like a fireman or soldier, stocky and well defined. It terrified Grace to think about what could do this to a man that was clearly strong and seasoned.

Armando was quick and efficient. Cleaning the man up and dressing his wounds in less than 3 hours. Grace didn’t move from his spot and didn’t look away. He couldn’t. His mind was reeling, thinking up every theory his brain could conjure up to explain the anomaly. That’s what it was, an anomaly. None of this should be possible and yet here it was in front of him.

It took another hour of staring and thinking before he forced himself to get up, his bones protesting at the increased gravity. He sighed, glancing at the man again before shuffling off to clean up and call for his friend. The man was not going to wake up soon with his injuries and heavy medications being pumped into him. He needed a plan.

Rocky had been confused and ecstatic when Grace had explained the situation. He had quickly started talking of plans to extend the house and biodome but Grace reminded him that there was no guarantee he would stay. They didn’t know where he came from or how he got there. Their first priority was helping him to get better.

It took a week for him to wake up.

Grace had been sitting in the room, working on lesson plans and ideas for homework. It wasn’t easy to give aliens who can’t survive in your environment and vice versa homework. He was sitting in a chair cross-legged, hunched over his laptop that sat in his lap, so deep in focus he almost missed Armando’s announcement.

Eye movement detected.

Grace’s fingers stilled above the keyboard as his gaze shifted over the screen and onto the man who now laid with his eyes open, staring at the robotic arm above him.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, trying to prepare for what was about to happen. This grabbed the man’s attention, his eyes darting over to look at Grace. They were wide and full of fear, like a stray dog who had been cornered. His right eye was a pool of black so deep it reflected everything, like the night sky, while his left was the opposite. It was milky white and seemed to shimmer in the light.

What is 2+2?

The man’s gaze didn’t leave Grace’s and he didn’t speak.

What is 2+2?

“Four.” Grace said quietly to avoid startling the man further. Armando gave an approving chime and backed off, making itself dormant for the time being. The glare from the man never wavered. His arm twitched like he was trying to lift it but couldn’t.

“Hello.” Grace tried to give his best teacher smile and hide the nervousness bubbling up his chest. “I know you must be confused, as am I, but right now you are safe. You are still very injured so please try to keep still. It was quite a pain to clean up the blood and I would really prefer I don’t have to do it again.” He tried to take a step forward but froze when the man tensed every muscle in his body, prepared to bolt or fight, Grace wasn’t sure. Instead he elected to take two steps back to try and articulate he meant no harm.

“My name is Grace. What’s your name?”

The man seemed to relax the smallest bit, his gaze slightly less terrified.

“Simon.” He huffed out, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Grace’s smile grew, “Nice to meet you, Simon.”

From there Simon didn’t talk much. He kept to himself for most of the first month. Grace gave him his space when he could but made sure he ate and drank while also making sure his wounds were healing properly.

Simon had bad night terrors almost every night and had reopened some wounds once in a while from his frantic flailing. Grace never asked and tried his best to help him, but Simon preferred to handle things on his own, so he let him be for the most part.

It was another month before Simon seemed to understand that Grace truly meant no harm and didn’t want anything from him. He started talking more and eventually asked some questions.

They ended up talking for hours, going back and forth over what they each believed to be true. Grace learned of the quiet rapture and the blood ocean. He learned of the eel that messed with your head and the metal coffin that Simon had been forced into with a false promise of freedom.

Grace also learned about Eden and Filament Station. That had taken more time for Simon to explain. The title of Butcher and Convict bothered Grace immensely. It stripped Simon of his humanity and Grace was having none of that.

“Here, you are Simon. Nothing less. I’m sorry they did that to you.” He frowned, upset. It took a lot for him to get truly angry but he had reached that level, finding himself relating too much to having your humanity stripped from you. When he met Simon’s eyes he found wide eyes and a stunned expression.

“...thank you.” It was a whisper but it was filled with genuine gratitude.

Grace then went on to tell him about his story of events quickly realizing there was no way they were from the same place.

After more talks and scribbles on whiteboards, the theory they settled on was that Simon was from an alternate reality, likely pushed into this one from a blackhole or wormhole of some sort. Something strong enough to blink stars and planets in an instant carried enough energy to make that possible. The exact details were blurry but it was the theory that made the most sense.

After that Simon had blossomed. He was almost fully healed and helping around the house, despite Grace’s assurances he didn’t need to. He let Rocky make him a prosthetic arm so he could do more, eventually leading to him asking to help cooking.

Grace had hesitated but caved when Simon had practically begged him. He led him to the greenhouse, having held off after learning about Eden, unsure what his reaction would be to a building full of plants.

It wasn’t the worst of reactions.

Simon had fallen to his knees and sobbed, the first time Grace had ever seen the man cry. Grace laid a steadying hand on Simon’s back and rubbed gently as he let it out, opting to stay quiet and let him have his moment. He ignored the way his fingertips sparked with warmth at the minimal contact that Grace had been starved for.

Grace showed him around once he had settled, letting him touch each and every plant. He touched them like they were made of glass and he was afraid to break them.

“You know,” he started as Simon gingerly pinched the leaf of a strawberry plant, “If you want, you can handle the gardening. I have pretty much everything pertaining to plants, including how to take care of them. You can learn and this can be your, I don’t know, thing.” He cringed at his own awkwardness but was quickly left dumbfounded as Simon pulled him into a tight embrace.

Grace felt his face heat up and his body burn at every point of contact. It took him a moment to collect himself to finally hear Simon whispering ‘thank you’ over and over again.

And with that, this is where Grace finds himself. 5 months since his encounter of Simon and he is staring at his whiteboard like he had been the past hour.

Over the months Grace had noticed specific little things that Simon did. Little cultural differences due to the alternate realities that he found fascinating. He had begun to keep track, noting down each new action or phrase that Simon would teach him.

The first instance was a few days after their conversation of each of their backgrounds. The teacher decided it was time to go back to, well, teaching. He had taken time off to focus on Simon, but he missed the pebbles and teaching, finally deciding that it was okay to leave Simon on his own for a few hours.

He raced around the house trying to remember what he needed and where it was, tripping at least twice as he was finally ready to leave, glasses hanging off his chin. Simon followed him to the door and as Grace turned to say goodbye, a hand snaked around the back of his neck and pushed his head forward.

Grace froze, wide-eyed, as their foreheads connected. Simon had closed his eyes and rested their heads together for a few seconds before releasing Grace, fixing his glasses and walking off.

He stared, mouth agape, and stood there for a while, processing what had happened. His watch going off startled him out of his daze, alerting him he was about to be late to class. He tucked the interaction away to ask about later as he practically bolted out of the house.

Later had been after class, as when he got back, Simon greeted him with the same silent gesture. Grace felt his face warm up at the contact, but couldn’t help the pang of contentment wash over him, desperate for human touch.

He managed to find his voice once Simon let go.

“Um, sorry, but uh,” He took a breath to settle his thoughts enough to make a proper sentence. “The forehead touch, is there a meaning to that?” He fiddled with the edge of his fox cardigan, rolling it between his fingers as he looked anywhere but at the man.

Simon gave him a confused look before speaking. “Nothing more than the usual ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.” He stated slowly, pausing at Grace’s curious expression. “You don’t do that here I’m guessing.”

Grace shook his head. “We usually just wave,” Grace waved in demonstration. “Although, sometimes we hug too if we are close.” He explained.

Simon’s eyes shifted down, embarrassment flashing across his face quickly before he pushed it away.

“You can still do it!” Grace blurted. Simon’s gaze shifted back up as the teacher rambled and stumbled on his words. “It was surprising but not unwelcome- I actually think it’s kinda sweet, so feel free to keep doing it if it’s what you are used to.” He managed to shut his mouth before he could embarrass himself any further. Simon studied his reddening face, looking for lies or mockery, but when he found none, he simply nodded and walked off.

He did indeed keep doing it every time Grace left and came back. He got somewhat used to it over time but it still felt a tad intimate to him, but he would never say that to Simon. It was nice to know there was someone there with him and it was grounding on tough days so he was gonna be a little selfish, and let him keep doing it.

The second moment was a phrase: ‘May your body rot.’

The first time he heard it, it startled him so bad he choked on his water.

He had visited him while he was tending to the greenhouse and handed him a bowl of freshly picked strawberries to snack on to keep his energy up with all the hard labor he was doing. He had brought a cup of water for himself, and as he took a sip Simon took the bowl and uttered those words.

“May your body rot.” He said before biting into the sweet red fruit. And Grace, the ever graceful one, choked. He coughed and sputtered as Simon raised a scarred eyebrow at him.

“I-I’m sorry?” He managed to croak out.

“What?” Simon retorted with no clarification.

“May my body what?”

Realization dawned on his face as he looked away similar to the way he did when Grace asked out the forehead touch habit. He sighed and looked at Grace.

“May your body rot. It’s from Eden.” He paused before continuing. “It’s- It’s kind of like a ‘thank you’. When you died, your body, if clean of sickness, would be buried under The Last Tree to help fertilize it. It was the highest honor for us. Them.” He corrected at the end.

Grace stood there staring like an idiot once more before nodding slowly.

“I see.” He smiled at Simon trying to shake off his initial shock. “Well then, you are welcome.”

The corner of his mouth perked up in a small smile before he took a bite of another strawberry to hide it. Grace didn’t miss it as he felt his chest bloom with warmth at the sight.

He was screwed.

The third expression was brought out by awful circumstances a few weeks later.

Simon had night terrors frequently but over time they dwindled down to once in a while.

Grace got them very rarely. But he did get them. And he had gotten it that night.

The burning of his lungs as he ran.

The cool air, sharp on his skin.

The weightlessness as his feet left the ground and his face found it instead.

The smell of grass and dirt, what was usually a nice smell, turned into a foul memory.

The sharp pain as he dug his nails into the dirt, trying desperately in vain to escape.

The needle in his neck as he screeched and cried, voice cracking with desperation and fear.

Grace woke up screaming as he did back then. He sprung out of bed, desperate to be standing instead of laying down. He clutched his chest as he struggled to breath, vision blurring from tears and lack of oxygen.

His pulse thundered in his ears and he could barely hear Simon’s voice calling to him, trying to understand what was happening. Grace glanced up at Simon who now hovered in front of him, arms raised like he wanted to hug him but wasn’t sure if he could.

His lips moved and Grace could tell he was saying his name but he couldn’t hear it above his own heartbeat and screams in his head. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t. All he could let out were choked sobs and stuttering breaths. His vision started swimming and he shut his eyes to keep from puking.

He felt pathetic. It happened years ago and here he was freaking out over a dream about it.

And Simon, who has been through so much worse, was now trying to help him. He had no right to be reacting this way, not when Simon-

His eyes shot open as he felt the slightest contact on his chest. If his senses weren’t dialed up to 100 he would have barely felt it. But the touch was hot and was almost too much. Almost. It was just enough to ground him enough to actually see his surroundings.

Simon was still in front of him, worry evident on his features. Another wave of guilt wracked Grace's body.

Simon pressed harder in response. With his eyes open Grace could see what he had felt. Simon had placed the tips of his fingers on his chest, just over his heart, and was staring intently at Grace.

“Grace. What happened?” Simon’s voice was strained with concern, eye darting between his, looking for any kind of answer.

He tried to say something again, failing to do so, and just shook his head as he looked down at the floor in shame.

Simon moved to remove his hand but Grace’s hands flew up and clutched at his wrist, keeping it where it was. It probably hurt with how hard he clutched him, but Simon showed no sign of pain.

His legs gave out and he sank to the floor, bringing Simon with him. But Simon kept his hand pressed against his chest, probably feeling his racing heartbeat as he still struggled to breathe properly.

“...Stay…” He managed to push out in a whisper. “Please.”

Simon nodded. “I’m here.” He whispered back.

They sat like that for a while, Simon’s hand pressed to his heart as he clutched his wrist, slowly lessening his grip as he came back to himself.

He took a shaky breath before finally letting him go and looking up at him. Simon didn’t drop his hand but locked eyes with Grace.

“I’m sorry-” He started before feeling an increase of pressure on his chest.

“Don’t.” Simon said sternly. There was no anger in it, just finality. “Don’t fucking apologize for something like this.” Grace cringed at the language, but nodded. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Graced nodded and Simon’s hand finally left their place. He felt very cold all of a sudden.

“Just- I had a bad dream is all. It was stupid.”

Simon huffed. “It’s not stupid. And I’m not debating this.” His gaze softened. “What do you need?”

Grace felt tears well up behind his eyes again and he squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep them from spilling.

“Fresh air. Open space.” He confessed.

“Can you stand?”

Grace braced his hands on the floor and tried to push himself up, only to crumple back down like a newborn fawn. He bit his bottom lip as more tears fell.

“No.” He sniffled. “This is pathetic I’m sor-” Grace yelped as he felt himself lift off the ground.

Simon now held him up, bridal style, and fixed him with another hard glare.

“What did I say about apologizing?” He chastised as he began to move out of the room and outside.

Grace said nothing, staring straight ahead as he tried not to think about his current position or the fact that Simon could carry him easily even in 2 g.

Simon settled him on the shore, a little far back, him still being apprehensive of the body of water. Before heading back inside.

Grace half expected him to stay inside but was surprised to see him not only come back out, but with his favorite quilt and glasses. He bent down and wrapped him loosely in it and handed him his glasses before settling down beside him and watching the tide roll.

“You didn’t need to get my blanket.” He said softly, unable to look at him.

“I did. It helps you when you’re stressed.”

He noticed? Grace pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his arms. Mostly from embarrassment. Definitely not to hide the blooming across his cheeks.

“Thanks.”

Simon hummed in acknowledgement.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the artificial breeze and waves.

“What was that thing you did before?”

Simon raised a confused brow.

“You know the..” He pressed his hand to his chest, mimicking what Simon had done.

Simon shrugged. “Just a thing for comfort.” He thought for a moment before adding, “I guess it would be similar to when you rubbed my back that time in the greenhouse.”

It was Grace’s turn to hum.

“It helped. Really, thank you.” He had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing again.

“I’m glad”

And then he smiled.

It was small but so soft and genuine. Grace could only stare. If Grace wasn’t screwed before, he was now.

The fourth display was not the best circumstances either.

Grace had been grading his pebble’s homework, having arrived just 20 minutes ago and finding the house empty. It was a regular occurrence. Simon spent most of his free time tending to the garden, and picking fresh produce for the week. It was heartwarming to see him relax and work, finally feeling like this was where he was supposed to be.

Grace couldn’t help the smile that crept along his face thinking of the soft gaze and smile he would sometimes catch when Simon was admiring a plant that had sprouted.

He was yanked from his daydream as a very loud crash echoed throughout the house. His head snapped up and he tossed his work aside, running quickly to the back door and into the greenhouse.

He whipped the doors open, breathing heavily, as his eyes landed on Simon, sitting on his knees and hunched over.

“Simon?” Grace’s voice dripped with panic. Had he hurt himself? Was he not feeling good?

At Grace’s voice he slowly raised his head and locked eyes with Grace. The shift in angle revealed what had happened.

A broken flower pot lay scattered on the ground, loose dirt piled on top, the little sprout that had been in it sat tilted but unharmed.

Simon stared wide-eyed at grace, hands visibly trembling. It looked like he was about to cry.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” Grace asked as he made his way over to the shaken man. He shook his head no, slumping his shoulders as Grace stopped next to him.

“Oh good.” Grace relaxed, placing a hand on his shoulder to help comfort him.

Simon spun around, still on his knees, now facing Grace.

“Wha-” He barely got a word out before Simon clutched both of his hands, pressing them against his forehead as he ducked his head.

He was shaking and his grip was clammy but firm.

Grace didn’t need to ask to know what this one meant.

“Simon.” He said as softly as he could. Simon stiffened. “It’s okay. The plant is okay. We can just replant it and make a new pot.”

He didn’t say anything but tightened his grip. Grace sighed, kneeling down to be face to face, hands still clasped in a desperate apology.

“All that I care about is that you are okay. I’m not mad and you aren’t in trouble. You are safe here.” He caressed Simon’s knuckles with his thumbs to drive the point home.

Simon finally looked back at Grace, hesitance dancing in his eyes.

Grace untangled one of his hands and pressed it to Simon’s chest, just as he had done to Grace. Simon’s eyes widened at the act, hands releasing their grip.

“Okay?”

“Okay…”

Grace stood up, bringing Simon up with him. “Alright then let’s clean this up and then we’ll have dinner.”

Usually after Grace asks, Simon explains his unique actions and phrases. But Grace now sits staring at his board wondering what this new one could possibly mean. He has a few theories but he won’t know for sure until Simon tells him.

And for some reason he won’t.

After the pot incident Simon began a new display. It was more complicated than the rest he had done up until this point and left Grace flustered and confused.

The next time he had checked on Simon in the Garden, hand carrying snacks, a new little habit he had, Simon had looked at him with an expression Grace couldn’t decipher. He handed him the snacks, only for him to place it down on a table of sprouts next to them, and step closer to him.

Then he pressed their hands together, palm to palm, raising them up till they were just below their shoulders. He then curled his fingers, Grace doing it as well reflexively, so they were holding hands, finally twisting his wrist so Grace's hands faced Simon who pressed them to his lips. He muttered something at each step that Grace couldn’t hear, dropping his hands when he finished.

Grace was red. He knew he was.

Because what was THAT?!

He cleared his throat as Simon took a step back and picked up his bowl.

“Okay. So definitely a new thing.” Grace laughed nervously as his hands tingled where Simon had touched him. Had kissed them. “Mind telling me what that one meant?”

Simon paused before shrugging. “Don’t worry about it.” He walked off without another word and Grace was left dumbfounded.

Maybe if it had just been the one time he could have forgotten. But he did it everyday.

At first he chalked it up to a way to say ‘thank you’ but he had never done it before, often expressing it by simply saying it. He also did it randomly. Sometimes he did it after Grace helped him with something, other times Grace would just be sitting, working on lesson plans, when he would do it.

Grace couldn’t figure it out. He had written all their past interactions and their meanings in hopes it would help him figure it out to no avail. He chewed on his marker as he stared and thought, furrowing his brow in confusion. He knew it wasn’t a negative thing, at least he really really hoped it wasn’t, but it still bugged him not knowing what it meant.

Eventually he slumped in his chair in defeat, laying his head on the back of the chair as he let the marker fall from his hand. He closed his eyes, rubbing the palms of his hands into his lids as he let out a groan of frustration.

“Everything alright?” Simon's deep voice cut through the room like a knife. His eyes flew open as he craned his neck farther back to find Simon standing behind him and looking down at him. Grace swallowed thickly at the angle.

Simon’s hair fell around his face as he looked down and Grace’s brain stuttered only able to think of one word.

Beautiful.

At the lack of response, Simon glanced up at the board, straightening as he read. Grace’s brain finally rebooted, flinging himself up and over to the board, flipping it, hoping to keep him from reading too much. But as he spun around and saw Simon’s face he knew it was too late.

He slapped his hands over his face and groaned.

“I’m sorry! I- it’s just you wouldn’t tell me- and I should have respected that- but I don’t know if it’s a bad thing and I was worried I did something-”

“Grace.”

He shut his mouth and lowered his hands, looking over to Simon who looked…nervous?

“Do you really want to know what it means?” He looks like he’s gonna throw up.

“Not if you aren’t comfortable.” Grace is starting to get worried.

“I’m not- It’s just-” He sighs, slumping forward slightly. “I’m just worried about your reaction.”

“I said you were safe here right?” Simon looks up at him. “I meant it. I won’t get mad or anything like that. But if you aren’t ready to share what it means that's okay. I should have respected that.” He repeats clearly this time. He feels bad that he pushed Simon.

Simon studies Grace for a moment before taking a breath and walking up to Grace.

He connects their palms and brings them up, just like every time before.

“To grow.” He says loud enough for Grace to finally hear what he has been saying.

He interlocks their fingers.

“Like soil to my roots.”

He twists their hands, bringing Grace’s to his lips, closing his eyes.

“You give me life.”

He stays there for a moment before glancing up nervously at Grace. Normally he would let go by now but he keeps his hold as if Grace was a lifeline keeping him afloat.

“What does it mean?” It comes out a whisper.

“It means you saved me. I want to grow with you. You help me to heal and to learn. You give me so much and more. You give me the oxygen I breathe. It means I need you.”

He takes a deep breath staring directing into the widening sky blue eyes that can’t seem to look away.

“It means I love you.”

Simon shakes as the words pass his lips. He crumbles, letting go and takes a step back.

Grace stares in disbelief trying to comprehend what he just heard. Simon takes another step back, dragging Grace back to the ground finally understanding. Before Simon can take another step back or run, Grace grabs the back of his neck and yanks him forward.

Their lips crashed, a surprised grunt escaping Simon, as Grace presses them as close as he possibly can. Simon’s hands lift to grip his hips, gently rubbing circles into the warm skin as he presses forward, earning himself a small wine from Grace. Simon licks his lip, Grace immediately opening for him, groaning as he slips his tongue inside.

It feels so good. So right. It’s not hungry or desperate. It's soft and warm and loving.

They finally break apart to breathe but still cling close to each other.

Grace smiles down at him as his hands slide down to wrap around his neck.

“I think.” He starts. “That is my favorite expression so far.”

Simon huffs and leans into Grace, resting his face in the crook of his neck.

Grace lets out a breathy laugh as he raised one hand to card through Simon’s hair, feeling him melt further into the embrace. He lets out a content hum as they just stand there enjoying the moment.

“I do too, you know.” Grace murmurs after a while. “Love you. I mean.” Simon stills and slowly pulls back to look at Grace who offers his most genuine smile. Simon blinks before burying his face back into Grace’s neck. Grace, who didn’t miss the flushed cheeks before he hid, laughs once more and holds him tighter.

“What did I do to deserve you.” He murmurs against his neck.

Grace takes a moment to run his fingers through his hair again before speaking.

“You lived.”