Chapter Text
Grace sighed, staring at the stubbornly dull patch of ceiling above him. They’d abandoned 102 Dalmatians and gone to bed, murmured good night across the hall and he’d made his way upstairs to the little bunk in his office. He was having trouble sleeping in here. Ironically, the couch had been more comfortable. But Simon had made it clear he wouldn't go to bed until he was sure Grace was going to sleep upstairs, not camp out on the couch again. So, he’d gone to sleep uneasily in his office, starting awake and struggling to drift off again.
He was toying with multiple trains of thought, lazily.
He should show Simon the storage rooms this weekend. He needed to look up the safe dosages for anaesthesia in case Simon was interested in the prosthetic. Maybe he could make some visual aids for the anatomy of a cell classes he had coming up. The medical team would be expecting him for a check-up soon.
And then he heard a thump and light crash downstairs. Nothing dramatic. But Grace had lived in this house alone for over a year with absolutely zero noise pollution beyond gentle ocean waves. He knew every sound and murmur of the walls and this was new. It was probably just Simon getting up in the night to use the bathroom or get a glass of water. But something made him get up to go and check. Some small unsettled impulse.
He padded down the stairs and felt his intuition confirmed when he heard small distressed sounds before he’d even opened the bedroom door. He quietly slid into the bedroom and saw Simon, tangled in the sheets at a strange angle, almost off the bed. He was twitching and murmuring nonsense, the muscles in his neck tense in his sleep. The lamp was on the floor, the shade dented but the bulb was unbroken. Simon’s hand lifted just to slam back down on the mattress, once, twice, three times, four times. He didn’t stop. Grace moved closer on instinct, his heart beating faster as Simon let out little sharp cries and grunts of pain.
He was frozen in indecision, hoping the nightmare would pass and Simon’s face would clear. But it didn’t. He thrashed his legs, breathing hard, gasps morphing into something close to whimpers. Grace felt sick.
“Please,” Simon gasped out. “Please don’t,” he grit out, chest heaving. His whole body started to thrash, he was going to hurt himself.
Grace couldn’t help it, he leaned over and touched a hand to Simon’s shoulder.
“Simon?”
He was reminded viscerally of their altercation in the lab as Simon snapped his arm around Grace’s middle and flipped them, slamming him down onto the mattress. His arm forced itself under Grace’s chin, forearm against his windpipe. But it was only for a second. And then his eyes opened and the pressure was instantly lifted. And they stared at each other. Simon stayed there for a second as confusion turned to recognition on his face. And then he threw himself back and off the bed in a messy heap, scrambling back into the corner muttering a stream of apologies.
“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryit’sGraceohGodI’msorryI’msosorryshitI’msosorry,” he babbled, his voice wrecked and horrified.
It took a second for Grace to react, everything happened so quickly he’d barely had a chance to respond beyond the hammering of his heart in his chest. He forced his legs into action, lifting himself up and off the bed. He could see Simon’s huddled form in the dark, his broken apologies streaming out uncontrollably. Grace swallowed down his nerves and moved to crouch in front of him.
“Hey, Simon?”
He watched as the other man pressed further back, making himself impossibly small. “I’msosorryIdidn’tmeantoI’msorryit’sGraceI’msorryfuckI’msorry,”
“Simon. Please look at me,” Grace urged, his voice strained. He couldn’t get emotional, that would just scare Simon more. But he could feel something breaking apart in his chest at the sight of Simon chanting for absolution. He wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t move from his spot.
Grace wanted to hug him. Suddenly and overwhelmingly. But touch seemed like a risky idea. “Can I, can I sit next to you?”
“Don’t do that, Grace, d-don’t,” Simon pleaded, breaking his stream of speech, and Grace’s heart sank in his chest. Simon’s voice was so scared. He couldn’t get closer. He couldn’t touch. Maybe he’d just try and speak.
“You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, I promise. You barely touched me, I swear, it was just a nightmare,” he said, hoping his sincerity was coming through in his voice. Simon buried his head under his arm, knees drawn up, shielding himself. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“But I could’ve,” his voice was small and sounded worryingly close to tears. It was always easier to let emotion overwhelm you in the small hours of the night.
“You didn’t. I’m sorry I scared you. I touched your arm, it was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”
He saw Simon’s head shake against his arm but he didn’t speak.
“The lamp is what made me come down,” he said, trying to talk. About anything. To keep silence from wrapping them up and cementing the horrible moment. “It fell, must have got knocked over.”
It made Simon lift his head, eyes big and sorrowful. “Did I break it?”
“No,” Grace assured quickly. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about. The walls here are pretty thin. The Eridians can hear through pretty much anything so wall density wasn’t a big consideration when they built this place.”
He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath as he gathered himself. Simon was calmer. Distressed but calmer. Grace stood up. “Okay, back to bed, come on,” and he held out his hand.
Simon hesitated, staring at it.
“We both need sleep, right?” he pushed. And it worked. So slowly, giving Grace every chance to pull away, Simon reached out and tentatively took his hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
Grace didn’t give him time to feel self-conscious, kept hold of his hand and pulled him back to sit on the bed, gently pushing on his shoulder so he’d lie down. To his surprise, Simon’s hand jumped up and gently circled his wrist.
With his eyes tightly shut, he asked, “Can you just… keep talking to me? Please?”
“Yeah,” he said, squeezing Simon’s wrist for a second before pulling away so he could move around the bed and carefully sit on the other side, easing himself up against the headboard. Close but not touching, scrambling to think of anything to say. “I was such a bad sleeper when I was younger. Used to stay up all night reading and then get in trouble for falling asleep in class. Or one time my Grandma caught me sneaking back in after trying to find badgers because I’d read they were nocturnal. I was in a wildlife phase. Mind you, we lived in San Francisco, a big city and badgers are famously reclusive animals that live in the woods or grasslands but I was convinced I would find one.”
As he spoke, he watched Simon’s hand clench and unclench in the fabric of the bedsheets. Grace was on his left side, he couldn’t hold Simon’s hand. Not that he would have but… He had to do something. So, as he continued chatting about nothing, he shifted closer, until his legs were pressed into Simon’s side. He watched Simon register the touch, for a second his breath trapped in his chest. Grace nearly moved away. But then his muscles uncoiled and his hand relaxed.
He kept talking.
“Did I tell you me and Rocky can do a backflip? Well, kind of. We haven’t done it since the Mary and gravity was a bit more forgiving but he used to flip me in the air and catch me. We got good at it, too. Real Cirque de Soleil level stuff. There’s a lot of stuff we used to do that Adrian kind of put a stop to. For good reason. She found out about sleep Olympics and was not happy. She’s so sensible, how Rocky ever managed to lock her down, I will never know.”
He talked about meaningless, safe, nothing. Anecdotes from the Mary. Facts about the biodome. Stories from Grace’s childhood. Tales from his postgrad days. Things he might even regret divulging but would definitely distract from whatever horrors had chased Simon in his sleep. And this time, he didn’t notice Simon fall asleep until he glanced over and saw the kind of complete peace on his face that could only be achieved unconsciously. He didn’t stop talking, worried he’d somehow break the spell if he let silence consume the room. His back ached and he let himself slip down until he was lying beside Simon on the bed, their shoulders pressed together.
At some point, he drifted. Somewhere partway through a story about the me-burgers, he slipped away. The mattress was so comfortable, he’d forgotten. So much better than the bunk in his office or the couch. And Simon was warm and his breaths were rhythmic and soothing, his body a solid, reassuring presence. Sleep welcomed him so quickly, he didn’t feel it coming.
He woke up slowly, unbelievably warm and comfortable. Something was squeezing his shoulder. He blinked awake and stared, uncomprehending, at Simon’s face looming over him. He smiled, apprehensive, and Grace wondered what had him feeling nervous. Had they slept in too late?
“G’morning,” he said, trying to remember where he’d put his glasses.
Simon’s smile turned more genuine. “Morning. I, uh, I got us some breakfast,” he said, moving away. Grace felt the mattress dip at the foot of the bed.
Huh. The bed. He sat up in one fluid movement and only then did he realise he was in the bedroom. In the bed. The events of the previous night came flooding back. He’d fallen asleep! In the bed! Next to Simon!
He knew his realisation must have shown on his face because Simon’s face twisted into a bitter, self-deprecating kind of smile. He looked for his glasses, finding them neatly folded on the bedside table. Had he done that? Putting them on, he took in the scene. Simon was dressed, pale early light streaming in. Simon didn’t wake up early. Oh no. Had he sensed Grace’s presence and been so uncomfortable he’d left?
Simon, ignorant to his internal panic, handed him a plate of toast and a glass of water. He took it, just remembering to mumble, “Thanks, yeah, um, thank you.”
It was weird. Oh no. It was weird. He tried to remember how he had fallen asleep but couldn’t pinpoint it. Simon had woken up and Grace was still there. He felt his stomach swoop with mortification.
“Wow.” Simon snorted and Grace’s eyes snapped up. “Who knew it just took seeing a mental breakdown to make you speechless.”
Grace’s mouth flapped for a second as he caught up. Then he frowned deeply, “It wasn’t a mental breakdown. You just, you had a bad night,” he said, defensively. Simon hummed, taking a bite of toast.
“Nice of you to say so,” he muttered, his tone making it clear he didn’t agree.
The scene was so domestic. The smell of toast was enticing, the glass of water leaving a ring on the bedside table that he’d try to scrub away later. Simon’s hair was scruffy, his face still soft and sleep-ridden. How long had he been awake? The sheets pooled around Grace’s hips. The gentle wash of morning waves heard from the window. And somehow, Simon wasn’t freaking out. Maybe he’d got his freaking out done before Grace had woken up. He was just eating, posture calm and face betraying nothing. It made something uncurl in Grace’s chest where he could only be honest, the words spilling out before he could stop them, “What happened at the Greenhouse?”
Simon stopped mid-chew, jaw ticking. Then, he resumed, shrugging a shoulder. “Just… got confused,” he said, sighing. “It’s early.”
And he said it like that was the end of the conversation. But Grace didn’t want to sweep it away. He could still hear Simon’s broken pleas in his sleep.
“But, Simon, it made you sick, we really should– ”
“Grace,” Simon cut him off, softly. And he met Grace’s gaze with pleading eyes, a little smile that said he didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to do this, whatever this was, because it would ruin the tentative quiet of the morning. The fight left Grace’s shoulders.
Simon smiled at him gratefully. “Eat.”
So, they did. Ate in relative silence. It was nice. It was painful. Grace had never been the best at self-restraint. The questions were eating him alive. But he wanted to be someone Simon could ask things of and know he’d be listened to. He didn’t want to let him down. So, he finished his toast and drained the glass of water and thanked him when Simon took the glass and plate and made to leave the room.
Just before he left, Grace blurted out. “I’m sorry. About. You know, staying. Sleeping in here. I hope it wasn’t…” How exactly did he want to finish that sentence?
Simon looked back over his shoulder, shaking his head, smile easy and relaxed. “I asked you to stay.”
It wasn’t strictly true, but not untrue either. He left Grace alone. And Grace felt so disoriented and confused. There was a strange, demanding feeling in his chest so strong it was making his stomach churn. What was going on? He started to feel the discomfort that came from having slept in jeans. Why did his chest feel so tight? His tongue ghosted over his teeth, reminding him to brush them before he left for work. Why did he feel equal parts relieved and terrified? His glasses were clean like they never were in the morning.
He threw off the bedsheets, trying to shake the feeling off. If Simon was acting normally, he should too. It’s not like he wanted some awkward confrontation with Simon but… How many times would something happen, something big or scary, and they just weren’t going to talk about it? He shouldn’t push. Simon was still healing. He was being selfish.
Locking himself in the bathroom, he stripped off and stepped into the shower, questioning himself. What was this feeling? Things were okay. Simon wasn’t withdrawing into himself after his nightmare. He wasn’t angry at Grace for sleeping in the bed with him. He’d even made breakfast. One hell of a peace offering. But…
He hadn’t stayed in bed.
The thought had alarm bells ringing around the back of his head but he didn’t know why. He tried to rationalise it, to slow down the strange sickly spinning in his stomach he hadn’t felt in years. It was human touch, contact. He’d been deprived of it for so long. Convinced himself he’d never have it again, that it was a cosmic impossibility. And suddenly it was within reach, under a blanket, in a bed. That was all. He was just… adjusting. Nothing to get twisted up over. It would settle. He’d get used to it. It clearly wasn’t affecting Simon in the same way. And he’d come from a place full of other people, even if they were horrible to him. He’d known touch, probably, recently. Grace hadn’t. That’s all it was.
It calmed him down. That was all it was. Just a delayed reaction to touch after so long. No big deal. He finished up in the shower, dried himself off and went back to the bedroom to fish some clean clothes from the dresser.
As he was picking out a t-shirt, Simon poked his head in the room. “If we’re going to class, we should probably – oh, shit, sorry,” he said, darting back out.
Grace was left, towel around his hips, water dripping from his hair, that sickly twist in his stomach back in full force, heart beating out of rhythm. What the hell?
“Sorry, didn’t realise…” Simon cleared his throat from behind the door. “We should probably leave in the next ten minutes. For class. Okay.” And Grace heard him walk away.
Five minutes later, he was dressed, teeth brushed, hair mostly dry and ready to go. He met Simon in the hall and tried to shove down the anxiety in his throat. Simon seemed fine. Smiled at him a little. “Ready to – ”
A knock at the door cut him off. He frowned, going to open it. Which was good because Grace certainly wasn’t able to make his body react quick enough. Simon opened the door and made a noise of pleased surprise. “Oh, hey, Adrian. Grace, it’s Adrian.”
Grace forced his attention over and smiled at Adrian weakly. “Morning! Everything okay? We were just about to go to class.”
Adrian trilled apologetically. “Yes, Adrian know, sorry for late notice. Adrian wonder if Simon would wish to spend day together while Grace work, question? Learn more about Erid and star system?”
Grace’s eyes flickered to Simon. His mouth quirked to the side, considering. He looked over at Grace. “Do you mind?”
Grace flapped his hands, lamely. “Oh, no, absolutely. Sounds good. You guys go, have a great time. You’ll miss the absolute thrill-ride that is cell membrane and cytoplasm but, you know, I’m sure you’ll survive,” he laughed, it sounded hysterical to his own ears.
Thankfully, Simon didn’t seem to notice. He smiled, amused, and nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay cool. I’ll go with Adrian and see you later, I guess?”
Grace nodded, smile plastered on. He felt insane.
“Adrian return Simon to Grace in one piece.”
It was a joke. She was waiting. Grace laughed, once. Too loud. Simon looked at him, bemused. Grace waved him away. They left.
The second the door was closed, he dropped his head against the wall. “What the heck is wrong with me?” he asked aloud.
He made his way to class alone, wrestling with his own thoughts. Maybe he was getting sick? The pebbles weren’t happy to be without their Mr Simon. They were acting out a little bit. And the class didn’t feel as smooth as usual. When he asked questions, they peered at him in confusion. Not the normal sea of arms. He must not be explaining it right. He kept dropping his notes. The third time, Elton asked him, “Mr Grace not sleep, question? Dad say without sleep humans lose faculty.”
Grace waved a hand. “I actually… slept really well.”
Elton let out a trill of confusion. “Humans weird.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Grace agreed under his breath.
He bumbled and struggled his way through class, ragged with relief when it was finally 3pm and time to go home. He trudged back to the house, somehow more drained than he thought possible. For the first time in two months, he was grateful the house was empty. The thought made him feel a bit guilty but he just needed to sit and stare at a wall and think for a bit. His favourite pastime.
He decided a few things. Firstly, he was definitely touch-starved. And he hadn’t realised just how bad it was until a tiny bit of touch had set off every nerve-ending in his body. Second, he didn’t want to freak Simon out, so he was going to figure out how to handle it. He wasn’t sure yet but there had to be ways to lessen the feeling. Hugs with Rocky? Self-soothing? Creating a machine that would press several bodies worth of weight on his chest so he could sleep at night? Finally, he was not going to overthink. It was his worst trait. Things were going well. Simon had enough to deal with, he didn’t need Grace making mountains out of molehills. Business as usual.
Simon came home at around 7pm and smiled sheepishly when he spotted Grace at the kitchen table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stay so late. Just got… a bit distracted. Adrian has a lot of stuff to look through.” Grace was so fried he forgot to reply and Simon’s face fell a little. “Did I make you wait? For dinner?”
He was breaking his second rule. He was freaking Simon out. That wasn’t allowed. He shook himself and smiled. “Sorry, zoned out. And it’s no problem, I’m glad you’re finding it useful talking to Adrian, she knows everything. And she’s good company.”
Simon’s shoulders dropped in relief and Grace knew he’d done the right thing. “Yeah. She’s cool. She told me about star-gazing,” he said, wide-eyed and impressed.
Grace nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. You’re just in time, by the way. I was about to start dinner. You okay with burgers again?”
“Yeah, sounds great. Thanks. I’ll just go wash up,” Simon said, disappearing into the bedroom.
Grace chewed the inside of his mouth. He wasn’t going to overthink… But he was being presented with a very interesting physiological reaction. It was his, which made it uncomfortable. But science was science. He wanted to puzzle it out. Maybe he could figure out a way to make the sensation disperse. It had eased a little now. Maybe it was just touch. Or proximity? Or temperature? Or was it a proxy reaction? If he put a heater covered in foam the exact temperature of a human body next to him when he slept, would it have the same reaction?
He heard the shower turn on. He remembered this morning. In the towel with Simon's eyes on him. His stomach twisted. He scowled at himself, getting up to start on dinner. He’d figure it out.