Work Text:
Numb Shoulders and Interrupted Science
——————
The Hail Mary had settled into one of its rare, peaceful evenings.
No alarms.
No repairs demanding immediate attention.
No experiments threatening to explode—at least, not according to Ryland.
The only sounds drifting through the ship were the low hum of the engines and the occasional scratch of a pencil against paper.
Ryland sat at the dining table, surrounded by what Simon privately referred to as "organized scientific chaos."
Several notebooks were stacked beside him.
Loose sheets of calculations covered nearly every inch of the table.
A mug of coffee sat dangerously close to the edge.
Three pencils had somehow ended up on the floor.
Ryland didn't seem to notice.
"...No..."
He crossed out another equation.
"No, that's assuming a constant conversion rate."
He tapped the eraser against the page.
"But if Rocky's measurements are right..."
He stared at the notebook.
"...Unless..."
A beat.
"...No, that's stupid."
He scribbled something anyway.
Simon stepped into the room carrying a toolbox.
He leaned the box against the wall before quietly watching Ryland from the doorway.
Ryland hadn't noticed him.
"...Okay, but if the energy output changes with prolonged exposure..." Another line of frantic writing. "...Then maybe…!"
Simon smiled to himself.
He'd seen this exact routine dozens of times.
Ryland always talked through problems out loud.
Sometimes to himself.
Sometimes to Rocky.
Sometimes to absolutely no one.
It didn't seem to matter whether anyone was listening.
Eventually, Ryland looked up just long enough to notice someone standing in the doorway.
His face brightened immediately.
"Oh." He smiled. "Hi."
"Hi."
Ryland gestured vaguely toward the empty chair beside him before immediately returning to his notebook.
"How'd the repairs go?"
Simon pulled the chair out and sat down. "Finished."
"Anything explode?"
"No."
"Darn."
Simon raised an eyebrow.
"Darn?"
"I mean..."
Ryland grinned sheepishly.
"I'm glad nothing exploded."
"You sounded disappointed."
"I… was disappointed in the lack of scientific drama."
"You need healthier hobbies."
"I have healthy hobbies!”
Simon looked around at the sea of papers. "...Debatable."
Ryland laughed.
"I'll have you know this is cutting-edge research."
"It looks like a paper avalanche."
"It's an organized avalanche."
Simon glanced at the stack threatening to slide off the table. "I don't believe you."
"You wound me."
Simon shook his head, unable to hide the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
For a while, neither of them said anything else.
Ryland returned to his calculations, murmuring quietly under his breath.
"...No..."
Scratch.
"...Wait."
Scratch, scratch.
"...Actually..."
More writing.
"...Rocky is going to love this."
Simon leaned back in his chair, simply listening.
There was something oddly relaxing about it.
Ryland's voice rose and fell with his thoughts.
Sometimes quick with excitement.
Sometimes slow and thoughtful.
Sometimes interrupted by an exaggerated sigh when an idea didn't work.
The rhythm had become familiar over the months they'd spent together.
Comforting, even.
Ryland pushed his glasses back up his nose.
Ran a hand through his already messy hair.
Stared at the page for another few seconds.
Then suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Oh!"
Simon looked over, startled a little. "What?"
"I forgot negative signs exist."
Simon blinked. "...That's concerning."
"It happens more often than I'd like to admit."
"I believe that."
Ryland laughed before immediately diving back into the notebook.
Simon watched him for another minute.
Then another.
The room stayed warm.
The lights were dimmed for the evening.
The ship's engines provided a steady background hum beneath Ryland's quiet rambling.
Without really thinking about it, Simon shifted a little closer, settling more comfortably into his chair.
Ryland didn't notice.
He was busy explaining astrophage to a notebook that couldn't answer him.
Simon rested his elbow on the table, propped his head against his hand, and let himself simply exist in the comfortable silence between Ryland's bursts of enthusiastic science.
It was one of the calmest nights they'd had in a long time.
Neither of them realized just how tired Simon really was.
The equations refused to cooperate.
Ryland frowned at the notebook.
"...No, because if the output is increasing here..."
He scribbled another line of numbers.
"...Then this shouldn't be possible."
He erased half the page.
Started over.
"...Unless I'm accidentally proving myself wrong."
Simon looked over.
"You've said that four times."
Ryland blinked. "I have?"
"Mhm."
"...That's either very encouraging or very concerning."
"I'm leaning toward concerning." Simon shrugged.
"Fair."
Ryland laughed quietly before going back to work.
The silence settled around them again.
Not awkward.
Never awkward.
Just... comfortable.
Simon had discovered that Ryland didn't need constant conversation.
He was perfectly happy talking to his research.
And Simon was perfectly happy listening.
"...Wait..." Ryland muttered. "No, Rocky said the samples stabilized after forty-eight hours..."
Scratch.
"...Unless the temperature wasn't actually the variable..."
He reached for his coffee without looking.
Missed the mug entirely.
His hand continued searching across empty table.
Simon watched for a second before calmly sliding the mug closer.
Ryland's fingers bumped into it.
"Oh."
He picked it up without ever looking away from the notebook.
"Thanks."
"Mhm."
He took a sip. Set it back down.
Immediately reached for a pencil he'd accidentally dropped.
His hand searched the tabletop.
There was no pencil.
Simon silently picked it up from the floor and placed it beside Ryland's notebook.
Ryland grabbed it.
"Thank you."
"You know..." Simon said. "You haven't looked up once."
"I know where everything is."
"You absolutely do not."
"I know where everything approximately is."
"That's worse."
Ryland smiled.
"It works surprisingly well."
Simon wasn't convinced.
Not even a little.
Still...
He found himself smiling too.
Another twenty minutes drifted by.
Ryland had long since disappeared into his own little world.
"...No..."
Scratch.
"...Actually..."
Scratch.
"...That's impossible."
Another Scratch.
"...Unless..."
Simon watched him absentmindedly.
He'd started recognizing Ryland's patterns.
When he was close to solving something, he'd tap the end of his pencil three times.
When he got frustrated, he'd tug absentmindedly at the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
When he had a really good idea...
He smiled before he even realized he was doing it.
Simon caught himself smiling back.
"...You're doing it again."
Ryland looked up.
"Hm?"
"Smiling."
"I am?"
"You've figured something out."
Ryland glanced down at the notebook.
"...I think I might have."
He looked almost childishly excited. "I need to check the math."
Simon nodded.
"You'll find an error."
"...Probably."
"And then you'll spend another hour fixing it."
"...Almost definitely."
Simon chuckled quietly. "I know you too well."
"You really do."
Ryland's attention drifted back to the notebook.
Within seconds, he was muttering to himself again.
Simon leaned back in his chair.
His eyelids felt... heavier than they had a few minutes ago.
He blinked.
The tiredness didn't go away.
It had been a long day.
Repairing the cooling system had taken longer than expected.
He'd skipped his afternoon break without realizing it.
Now that he was finally sitting still...
His body seemed determined to make up for it.
Ryland's quiet voice continued in the background.
"...Carry the one..."
"...No, don't carry the one..."
"...Where did the one even come from?"
Simon let out the faintest huff of amusement.
His eyes drifted shut.
Just for a second.
When he opened them again, Ryland was still talking.
Still writing.
Still completely oblivious to the rest of the universe.
Simon smiled. "...Dork."
Ryland looked up.
"What?"
"...Nothing."
"I heard something."
"I called you a dork."
Ryland gasped dramatically. "Simon!"
"You'll recover."
"I don't know about that.”
"I believe in you."
Ryland laughed, shaking his head. "You're lucky I like you."
"I know."
The room fell quiet again.
Simon rested his head against his hand once more.
The hum of the ship.
The scratch of pencil on paper.
Ryland's soft, thoughtful voice.
It all blended together into something warm and familiar.
His blinks became slower.
Longer.
He didn't even notice that his elbow had begun to slip.
Or that, little by little, he was leaning ever so slightly toward the person beside him.
Ryland frowned down at the notebook.
"...No..."
He erased another line.
"If Rocky's measurements were taken after the temperature stabilized..."
He tapped the end of his pencil against the paper.
"Then that would mean..."
Silence.
"...Wait."
He quickly scribbled another equation.
"No, because if that's true then the conversion efficiency should actually be lower, not higher, unless..."
He paused.
"...Unless I'm an idiot."
Simon made a sleepy noise beside him.
"Mmm."
Ryland smiled without looking up.
"I know. I disagree with me too."
No response.
He continued writing.
"So if I substitute the value from yesterday..."
Another quiet sound.
This one was closer.
Ryland assumed Simon had simply shifted in his chair.
"...Actually, that's kind of brilliant."
He reached for another notebook.
It was underneath a pile of papers.
He pulled it free, accidentally sending two loose sheets fluttering onto the floor. "...Oops."
Still no response from Simon.
Ryland glanced over for just a moment.
Simon had his eyes closed.
Ryland smiled to himself.
Poor guy.
He must've been exhausted after working on repairs all day.
Ryland considered suggesting they both go to bed.
Instead, he figured he'd finish this last calculation first.
"...Five more minutes," he muttered.
Whether he was talking to himself or Simon, even he wasn't sure.
He bent back over the notebook.
The room settled into silence once more.
The ship hummed softly around them.
Stars drifted endlessly beyond the observation window.
Simon shifted again.
This time, much slower.
His elbow slipped from the tabletop.
His body tilted gently sideways.
Ryland was still staring at his notes when he felt...
A light weight against his upper arm.
Then...
A little more.
Before he could even process what was happening—
Simon leaned fully against him.
His head came to rest carefully on Ryland's shoulder.
The movement was so gentle that it almost didn't register.
Ryland's pencil stopped moving.
Mid-sentence.
His brain followed a second later.
He looked down.
Simon was asleep.
Actually asleep.
His face had relaxed completely.
The tiny line that usually sat between his eyebrows had disappeared.
His breathing had slowed into a quiet, even rhythm.
A few strands of dark hair had fallen across his forehead.
One hand rested loosely in his lap.
The other had slipped onto the edge of the table.
Ryland stared.
"..."
His brain supplied exactly one coherent thought.
...Oh.
Another followed immediately after.
Oh no.
Not because anything was wrong.
Quite the opposite.
Simon...
Simon had fallen asleep on him.
Ryland looked between Simon and the notebook as though one of them might explain what he was supposed to do next.
"...Uh..."
He whispered instinctively, even though Simon was already asleep.
"Okay..."
His eyes flicked toward the table.
His notebook was still open.
His coffee sat just out of reach.
His pencil remained frozen halfway through an equation.
He looked back at Simon.
"...I..."
Another pause.
"...Well."
He smiled despite himself.
"I guess I'm not moving."
Very, very carefully, Ryland shifted only his eyes toward Simon again.
Nothing.
Simon didn't stir.
If anything...
He seemed to settle even more comfortably against Ryland's shoulder.
Ryland felt the tiniest bit more weight rest against him.
His heart did a little flip.
"...You're comfortable," he whispered, almost to himself.
A warm, sleepy little sigh escaped Simon.
Ryland's entire face softened. "...Yeah."
He couldn't stop smiling now.
The equation in front of him suddenly seemed much less important.
He looked down at the half-finished page.
Then back at Simon.
"...The universe can wait five minutes."
A beat.
"...Or... however long you need."
And with that, Ryland carefully set his pencil down with his free hand, leaned back just enough to make sure Simon stayed comfortable, and resigned himself—quite happily—to being a very scientific human pillow.
Five minutes turned into ten.
Ten turned into twenty.
Ryland was beginning to suspect he might be here for the foreseeable future.
Not that he minded.
Mostly.
His shoulder, however, was starting to file formal complaints.
Very carefully, he glanced down.
Simon hadn't moved.
If anything, he'd somehow managed to get more comfortable.
His head rested securely against Ryland's shoulder, one slow breath rising and falling against Ryland's arm. A few strands of dark hair had slipped across his face, and every now and then Simon would let out the faintest sleepy sigh before settling all over again.
Ryland smiled.
He'd never seen Simon this relaxed.
Usually, even when he slept, there was a certain tension about him—as if some part of him was always ready to wake up at the slightest noise.
Not tonight.
Tonight, Simon looked completely at peace.
Ryland's chest tightened with quiet affection.
"...You really were tired," he whispered.
Simon made a tiny, sleepy noise that sounded vaguely like a hum.
Ryland froze.
"...Did you just answer me?"
Nothing.
A few seconds later, Simon's head shifted the slightest bit closer.
Ryland's brain immediately short-circuited.
He got closer.
Okay.
Do not panic.
Absolutely no reason to panic.
He stared determinedly at his notebook.
The notebook stared back.
"...Right."
He cleared his throat quietly.
"I was doing science."
His pencil sat exactly where he'd left it.
Just close enough to reach.
Very, very slowly, Ryland leaned forward with his free hand.
His fingertips brushed the pencil.
"Come here..."
Another inch.
Almost...
Got it.
Triumphantly, he picked it up.
"Ha."
Simon didn't stir.
Encouraged, Ryland reached for his notebook.
That was farther away.
He stretched.
Just a little more...
His fingertips caught the edge of the notebook.
Success.
He pulled it closer one painstaking centimeter at a time, moving so slowly it probably would've been painful to watch.
Finally, it rested within easy reach.
Ryland smiled proudly.
"...I'm basically an engineer now."
He looked down at the equation.
"...Okay..."
He tried writing with only one hand.
The first number looked acceptable.
The second wandered diagonally across the page.
The third somehow ended up halfway into the margin.
Ryland frowned.
"...That eight looks like a confused potato."
He sighed dramatically.
"I've lost all fine motor control."
He looked over at Simon.
"...This is your fault."
Simon responded by sleeping.
Ryland couldn't help laughing quietly.
"Very convincing defense."
The room settled back into its peaceful silence.
Ryland managed another line of calculations before giving up entirely.
The numbers kept blurring together—not because he was tired, but because every few seconds he found himself glancing at Simon instead.
He wasn't used to seeing him like this.
Without the guarded expression.
Without the watchful eyes.
Without that constant readiness to react.
Simon trusted him enough to fall asleep without even realizing it.
That thought settled warmly in Ryland's chest.
"...You know," he murmured, careful to keep his voice low, "I don't think you'd ever admit this happened."
Simon remained blissfully unconscious.
"So..." Ryland smiled.
"I'll keep your secret."
As if he somehow understood, Simon let out another sleepy sigh.
Then, almost unconsciously, his hand shifted across the table.
His fingers lightly brushed against Ryland's forearm.
It wasn't a deliberate gesture.
Just something he did in his sleep.
But Ryland went completely still anyway.
His ears turned pink.
"...Oh."
He looked at Simon's relaxed face, then at the hand now resting lightly against his arm.
His smile softened into something impossibly fond.
"...Yeah," he whispered.
"I'm definitely not moving now."
Outside the observation window, stars drifted silently past.
Inside the Hail Mary, the universe felt wonderfully, impossibly small.
For once, Ryland was perfectly content to let the equations wait.
Some things were more important than science.
Even if he'd never admit that out loud.
Ryland had long since given up on pretending to work.
The notebook lay forgotten beside him.
His coffee had gone cold.
His shoulder had gone numb somewhere around fifteen minutes ago.
None of it seemed particularly important anymore.
Simon slept peacefully against him, breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the predicament he'd created.
Ryland smiled to himself.
"...You're lucky I like you," he whispered, repeating himself.
As if on cue, Simon stirred.
Ryland immediately straightened.
"Oh..."
He spoke quietly, not wanting to startle him.
"Morning."
Simon didn't answer.
Instead, his eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly, and he made a soft, sleepy sound that Ryland had never heard him make before.
"...Mm."
Still asleep.
Or... mostly asleep.
Ryland waited, expecting Simon to wake up completely.
Instead...
Simon shifted closer.
Ryland blinked.
Very slowly, Simon's head slid from the edge of Ryland's shoulder toward the curve of his neck, unconsciously searching for a more comfortable position.
"...Simon?"
No response.
Another tiny sleepy sigh escaped him.
Then, to Ryland's complete astonishment...
Simon nuzzled just a little deeper against his shoulder.
Not intentionally.
Not romantically.
Just the absent-minded movement of someone who'd found a warm, comfortable place to sleep and wanted to stay there.
Ryland's entire brain stopped functioning.
"...Oh."
His face turned bright red.
"Oh my God."
Simon, blissfully unaware of the crisis he was causing, relaxed completely.
His good hand drifted from the tabletop and lightly caught the fabric of Ryland's sleeve, as though his sleeping mind wanted to make sure the warmth beneath his cheek wasn't going anywhere.
Ryland stared at the hand.
Then at Simon.
Then straight ahead.
"...Don't panic," he whispered to himself. "You are a grown man."
Another contented sigh came from Simon.
Ryland lost the battle immediately.
A helpless smile spread across his face.
"...You're unbelievable."
He couldn't bring himself to move.
Not when Simon looked so peaceful.
Not when this was probably the safest Simon had felt in a very long time.
So Ryland simply sat there, smiling to himself, letting the stars drift past outside.
Eventually, Simon's breathing changed.
A little deeper.
A little slower.
Then his eyes fluttered open.
He blinked once.
Twice.
For a moment, he simply stared at the observation window.
Then he became aware of the warmth beneath his cheek.
His brow furrowed.
He looked down.
Ryland looked back at him with an awkward little smile.
"...Hi."
There was a long silence.
Simon glanced at the hand still loosely holding Ryland's sleeve.
Then at the notebook lying abandoned on the table.
Then back at Ryland.
"...How long?"
Ryland scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.
"...About forty minutes."
Simon closed his eyes. "...I fell asleep on you."
"You did."
"...And you didn't wake me."
Ryland shook his head, shrugging easily. "You looked like you needed the rest."
Simon was quiet.
He looked at Ryland for another long moment, as if trying to understand why anyone would willingly sit still for nearly an hour just so someone else could sleep comfortably.
Then, instead of pulling away immediately...
He gave the smallest, sleepiest smile.
"...Thank you."
Ryland's own smile softened. "Anytime."
Simon nodded once.
For one brief, drowsy moment more, he stayed exactly where he was, letting himself enjoy the warmth and quiet before finally sitting up with a sleepy stretch.
He rubbed at his eyes and let out a quiet yawn.
"...Your shoulder probably hurts."
Ryland laughed.
"...A little."
"I'll make tea."
"You don't have to."
"I know." Simon stood, still looking a little sleepy, and picked up their mugs.
As he walked toward the galley, he paused just long enough to glance back over his shoulder.
"...Next time..."
Ryland looked up.
"...If I fall asleep again..." He hesitated, a faint hint of color touching his cheeks.
"...You don't have to wake me."
Ryland's smile grew impossibly warm.
"I wasn't planning to."
Simon gave a small nod, unable to hide the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before disappearing into the kitchen.
Ryland looked down at his shoulder, still warm where Simon had been resting only moments before.
He chuckled quietly to himself.
"...Definitely worth the numb arm."