Ralph couldn't understand the need for touch.
Ralph was nine years old, you'd think he wouldn't know much but he was a genius. High IQ, low EQ as his mother always mumbled angrily when coming home agitated. She'd later explain to Ralph over dinner that Walter had, again, pissed off a possible client due to his inability to understand normal people. Paige would then proceed to hug him, Ralph stiffening slightly despite nearly 10 years of this being a daily occurrence, and whispered about how much she loved him then headed over to wash dishes. He would wind up still seated, wondering why he couldn't just lift up his arms every time she hugged him like a normal person. It was the proper response to someone enveloping you in their arms to show affect after all. Paige's smile was radiant and lit the whole room when Ralph hugged her willingly, which was very rare. His mom taught him to shake hands as a greeting, to pat someone's back as encouragement or congratulations, and she'd sometimes hold his hand when he felt unsure about the circumstances they were in to give him support. Now Math and Science came easy. 1 plus 1 was always 2 just as A squared plus B squared equaled to C squared. There were more than three types of matter despite what his ignorant science teacher was saying, just as jellyfish were of phylum Cnidaria. But touch? The need to hug, kiss, or simply push back his hair from his forehead made him freeze.
After meeting Scorpion everything changed.
He craved touch. Not just having his mothers' fingers in his as he painted them. He craved the feeling of having Toby scoop him up by his waist and hoist him horizontally in the air and zoom around the garage. He craved the slight pain of high fiveing Sylvester hard after solving a particularly challenging calculus problem in under a minute. The slight roughness of Happy's calloused fingers guiding his hands as they screwed the last screw on their current robotics project. The slight ticklish feeling of Walter's fingers gliding through Ralph's hair as Walter ruffled his head in what Ralph hoped was affection. The familiar heavy pat on his back of thanks after Ralph remembered to bring the water Cabe asked for. Megan's light fingers as she tickled him into a smile when Walter's riddle was particularly hard that day. He loved it when they would spend a night just joking around on the roof after a particularly easy case and Paige allowed him to stay up late. Happy would be flipping hamburgers, Paige would be finishing paper work beside Walter and Sylvester who were playing game after game of chess. Cabe, Megan, Happy and Toby would place bets on who would win. (Walter would of course, human calculator or not. But sometimes Walter would let Sylvester win just so they could keep going. He would never admit when he nearly lost though. He had a reputation to uphold.)
Paige would slip her fingers between Ralph's as his eyes began to droop and he would grip tighter. He understood. He needed to be touched. To be held. To feel loved. His mother loved him with all her heart, but there was something different about being loved by a number of people. It made him feel stronger, knowing there was more people who had his back compared to before.