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"Angel," Simon sighs lightheartedly as he walks into the lab.
Ryland Grace is the most gentle person he's ever known. When they first met, he put up with Simon's cornered dog tendencies with a lighthearted grin and endless patience - he asked for permission to get in his space, never touched him without Simon saying it was alright first. He offers a smile easily and help even easier, he radiates a curated softness in his stupid t-shirts and worn out cardigans. He's the absolute antithesis of the hardened life that Simon had been brought up in.
The only thing he's not careful with is his goddamned glasses.
Simon knows they're practically irreplaceable right now. The Eridians can certainly build a new pair, but given their own lack of sight, it would take trial and error... or taking Grace's glasses for a few weeks to study them which would also not be ideal. Grace thinks he has a spare set in the storage of the Hail Mary, but has made no attempt to hunt for them. When he pushes them up into his hair, hangs them off his chin, or tucks them into the collar of his shirt, it makes Simon twitchy.
The nose-pads are resting just above his lips right now as he looks up from the iPad he's tapping away at, and he brightens as he sees Simon in the doorway.
"Hey, big guy! How'd you sleep?"
"Rocky would give you hell for leaving me alone." Simon crosses the room and deposits his synthesized coffee on the table, out of reach of Grace's workspace so it's not causing any contamination, or whatever. Simon's not a scientist. "Had to get dressed all by myself."
"Is that why you're stretching out one of my shirts?" Grace teases lightly, reaching out to tug Simon over to his stool by the lower hem of said shirt.
Simon slots himself between the taller man's knees easily, resting his palm on Grace's chest. Like most other clothing items in their shared house in the biodome, the shirt he's wearing bright to the point of being obnoxious, with some goofy slogan on the front. He tilts his head as his partner looks up at him, humming as if he's thinking of an answer. Grace's palms settle on his hips and his fingertips inch up underneath the fabric.
"Smells like you," Simon finally says by way of answer before reaching up and carefully hooking Grace's glasses off of his face. "What are these even for if you're not going to wear them?"
Grace laughs and draws small circles above the waistband of Simon's pants with his thumbs.
"I'm wearing them. Just don't need them to read things up close." When Simon looks at him in mixed disapproval and disbelief, his expression turns placating. "I don't! They're for seeing things far away, I'm nearsighted. I have astigmatism too but it's pretty mild, my main problem is distance."
Simon holds the glasses up to inspect them. He knows better than to put them on, they make his eyes hurt, but he notes the small scrapes at the edges of the lenses - signs of Grace's mistreatment of them - and the dents in the arms. They've seen better days... but they've also held up for the better part of a decade.
"Just remember I'm not above an 'I told you so' if you fuck them up." He looks down at Grace. He's grinning up at Simon like a dork, watching his every move with rapt attention. "Nearsighted, huh?"
"Yup," his angel pops the 'p' brightly. "More than a foot or two out and everything's blurry. But if I get up close and personal..."
He reaches a hand up to cup Simon's jaw, pulling him in a little closer. "Everything's crystal clear..."
Simon smiles, feeling one of Grace's fingertips tracing along the harsh scar down the left side of his face. Grace loves every part of him so openly, it's startling sometimes. He leans in so their foreheads touch, watching Grace's eyes flick across his face like they often do, cataloguing him and re-memorizing his features.
"Can I have them back now?" Grace finally asks with a light laugh, seeming to realize how long they had stayed still like that. It happens a lot, when Grace is fighting his less than stellar memory, or Simon is in need of something grounding to remind him that this is real, he's not having some bizarre and long-lasting hallucination. He pulls away a little and reaches for his glasses, but Simon tugs them out of reach.
"No."
"Simon-"
"Said you didn't need them up close." Simon shakes his hair back a little bit and slides the glasses onto his own head like a headband. Out of the way, and far safer than dangling off Grace's ear. "Won't need them for a bit, I think."
He can see the sparkle of amusement in Grace's eyes when he closes the distance, resting his hand on the back of the microbiologist's neck to kiss him.
Grace kisses like he's starving, and Simon loves it. He wraps an arm around Simon's waist and pulls their bodies flush against one another, locks Simon in place with his knees on either side of his thighs. His other hand slides up along Simon's ribs, then onto his back, clinging underneath the shirt and making him shiver. When Grace gets Simon's lower lip between his teeth, Simon growls softly and is rewarded with a shudder and a tug around his torso, as if Grace could possibly get him closer.
"Could've done this in bed if you weren't such a workaholic," Simon mutters in a moment they break apart, teasing. He dives back in for another kiss and finds his head being tipped back when Grace stands so quickly he sends the stool he was perched on toppling. He begins to blindly try to navigate the two of them out of the lab.
His aim is a little off, but Simon doesn't mind being pinned up against the wall. He threads his hand up into Grace's hair to hear that perfect little whine, trying to lead Grace's lips down to his throat.
There's a whistling rattle in the doorway and Simon's eyes snap open. He has half a second to register Rocky standing nearby, and hisses out a breathless "oh fuck-" before the Eridian explodes at them.
"DISGUST DISGUST DISGUST, NEED ONE PLACE THAT IS FREE OF HUMAN MATING RITUAL, STATEMENT. LAB NOT SAFE FOR GROSS HUMAN ACTIVITIES, GRACE KNOW BETTER. SIMON BAD FUCKING INFLUENCE."
Grace lets out the most long-suffering groan Simon has ever heard in his life, which he knows is one part related to the frustration at being interrupted and one part related to the language his friend is using. Which Simon has not - and in fact refuses to - apologized for teaching him.
("He's a grown-ass man - rock, whatever - he curses plenty, Ryland. It's only fair he knows the translations.")
"HUMANS GO TO BEDROOM TO BE GROSS." Rocky complains, stomping his feet. "ROCKY HAS SUFFERED ENOUGH, STATEMENT."
"Suffered?!" Grace scoffs as he disentangles himself from Simon, turning to put his hands on his hips and look down at his friend. "You are so dramatic, I've heard the way you sing at Adrian when they're around-"
"IS NOT THE SAME."
"Very much is an equivalent. And you're the one who came into our house! That's what you get for not knocking!"
Simon shakes his head in amusement, going over to retrieve his coffee. He's not too upset about the interruption (key word being 'too'), he knows they have all the time in the world to be gross humans later. One thing about Ryland Grace, that man does not leave his work unfinished. He leans against the lab table and watches the two saviors of Erid needle each other in the way only best friends can. Finally, Rocky skitters farther into the lab to retrieve whatever he had come looking for, whistling in indignation at his being subjected to such torture the whole time. Simon snorts into his mug and then glances up as his personal savior approaches.
The taller man reaches up above Simon's head. "I'll be taking these back now-"
"No, I don't think you will." Simon ducks away from him. "How early did you wake up this morning?"
"Simon."
"Ryland." He dodges another attempt from Grace to collect his eyewear. "Did you eat breakfast?"
"I had a snack."
"Not good enough."
Grace shakes his head, amused and mildly annoyed. "I wanted to wait for you to have proper breakfast- give 'em!"
He lunges and Simon miscalculates his own reaction. He forgets now and again, he has to adjust for his lack of another arm. When he bumps into the table and can't get away fast enough, Grace grins and snatches his glasses from the top of his head.
"SHIT- ow!" Simon hisses as something pulls his hair sharply. Grace gasps and throws his hands up in surrender.
"Oh god, Simon I'm so sorry- hold on, hold still."
The nosepad of the glasses seems to have gotten tangled in his hair. Grace babbles apologies as he rights the stool and has Simon sit on it, unwrapping the thick curl of hair that's been caught with the utmost care. Simon winces more than once, but tries to keep his reactions as minimal as possible because every time he shifts the stream of regret doubles.
Finally, the wire frames are successfully detached from his head. Grace pushes them on hurriedly (they're crooked) and lifts Simon's face to look at him with both hands, concern painted across his face.
"Are you okay?"
Simon can't help but huff out a laugh. "I've had worse."
Grace doesn't like that response, wrinkling his nose. "That's not an answer to my question."
Simon gets to his feet, letting Grace continue to run his thumbs over his cheekbones gently. "I'm okay, Angel," he promises, poking Grace's glasses into their proper place before pulling him down for a chaste kiss. Rocky grumbles as he scrambles past again, which makes Simon's lips twitch in amusement. "I think if he had the capability, he'd be making gagging sounds."
"If he had the capability to make gagging sounds, he'd be just as gross as us."
Simon hums and collects his coffee once more, turning and giving Grace an expectant look. "Kitchen. Breakfast. Now."
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Grace laughs and leads the way out.