Chapter Text
Eridians are a complex social species; they developed pack instincts through their need for social sleeping. Those instincts led to complex organization and, eventually, to society-building over the course of millions of years. Though society is a few steps ahead of what is needed to understand the delights of inhibition. One of the many documentaries Rocky and Grace watched on their way to Erid featured a segment on Earth animals choosing to become intoxicated: elephants eating decaying fruit, dolphins chewing on pufferfish, and Vervet Monkeys stealing tourists’ drinks. It seems that the desire to alter one’s perception is part of, or at least a side effect of, being an intelligent social species.
So as Rocky watches Grace sleep on the couch, he realizes that, yeah, for all of their differences, apparently there are more things the two species have in common. It wasn’t something Rocky brought up with Grace in all their earth-years of knowing each other, but Eridians also have a way of altering their perceptions, pleasurably so. For Eridians, like most things, they get their inhibitions through sound. The best translation is Low Tone, or Crystalline Harmonics is another, more literal translation. More or less, it’s a tone that physically interacts with the Eridian brain in a specific way, scattering their thoughts and causing pleasurable misfires in their fiberoptic nervous system. While more intense in the moment, the end result is nearly identical to what Rocky has observed.
Rocky shakes their carapace and pauses the video playing, listening to Grace breathe. The constant sound of his human bringing comfort. The low simmering anxiety of being separated for 111,600 seconds gone as soon as he had reentered the dome. Hearing Grace’s constant sounds the reassurance that he is alive, alive, alive is not something Rocky will ever take for granted. He’s trying; they're both trying, even though it feels like they've only made progress by millimeters. Grace’s physical improvements have stalled, and with that, Rocky’s mental health has backslid, though he’d never admit it. The bubble of worry they constantly carry for their friend grows in size. Rocky shifts where he sits and gently places a claw on Grace’s thin wrist, feeling the pulse of veins and arteries underneath his skin. The worst is over. He tries to tell himself, I don’t need to be like this anymore.
Alongside the consuming anxiety, there is guilt, guilt, guilt; they had a date planned! Adrian was so excited. They feel a small whine of distress escape their carapace as the thought consumes them. He had a whole plan! Go to the hot springs, listen to their favorite audio-opera, then sing together for however long they last. The remorse is so strong it feels like it is going to shatter their carapace. Adrian is kind; they will forgive Rocky, they know; they have somehow forgiven him for much worse, but it does not mean the guilt subsides inside of their echoing hearts. You made them wait again; the thought claws inside of Rocky’s mind. You made them wait for years, and now you can’t even keep this promise. They should have left you when they had the chance.
Rocky stands and taps two of his limbs together, listening to the biodome. He moves around Grace’s house trying to work through the anxiety in his body. The need to move overcomes his mind; he tries to quiet the unpleasant thoughts. He and Adrian have had many, many, many conversations about this specific topic, with and without the mind-healer present. They know the thoughts are lies, but it doesn't ease the sting they feel when Rocky knows he’s hurt his mate yet again.
Adrian will understand once Rocky explains. Rocky knows this, but hopefully they will also show the same mercy to the CareTeam.
—
Rocky is late.
Adrian is… upset. They sit in their home tapping the floor hoping they’ll hear the ringing vibrations of their mate returning to them. Yes, Rocky is scatterbrained, but he promised tonight would just be for the two of them. Neither of them were allowed to talk about work, space, or astrophage. They had gone on a few dates since Rocky had returned, but that’s it just a few- and most of them were cut short for one reason or another. They stopped for good reasons, yes, but it still is exhausting. Adrian is trying their hardest not to be resentful. It is no one's fault that things have been difficult; no one could have expected any of this to turn out in the way it did. If you had given Adrian a thousand guesses, you would not have found a single thing that happened in the 345 years they had been separated. Well, yes, Rocky finding and befriending an alien would be on the list, but towards the end. However, the alien he brought home is not something they could have ever guessed.
Friend Ryland Grace, Savior of the Stars, Human of Sol, Biologist of Cells and Teacher of Many, is interesting. Fascinating even, best described as a sentient bag of water, he was a lot to take in at first. He was hardly sentient when Adrian first met him on the space elevator, hooked up to all of those machines and unable to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Still, as he got better, Adrian quickly realized why their mate had fallen so hard for the human. He’s kind, ethereal, and just fascinating in every aspect. Adrian tried to keep it professional around him, thinking of him as a colleague on the biodome team, someone who happened to work with Rocky. Any particular unprofessional feelings had to wait until the human was well, and Rocky is sound in mind.
Though with all that being said, there is only so much Adrian is willing to put up with. They pushed air through the vents in their carapace, the cool ammonia calming their nerves as Adrian tapped the floor again; and once again they were met with nothing. It has been a little over 4000 seconds since Rocky was supposed to be home. There is worry, yes, but if anything had happened in or to the biodome, Adrian would have been the first to know. If Rocky or Grace was hurt, they would have had a chime on the wires telling them as soon as anyone had the moment to spare. There was no logical reason for Rocky not to be home now, outside of him losing track of time or... Not wanting to be with Adrian.
No. They will not allow those thoughts to take root. Something must have happened. Perhaps Rocky fell asleep watching Dr.Grace, neither of them awake to run a chime to Adrian… or… well, there aren’t too many other excuses that come to mind. Adrian shifted where they lay on their nest, tapping the ground again. They stand slowly and start walking towards the biodome. The walk only takes around 600 seconds when they walk at their regular speed, but they count to 750 as they stall, wanting their mate to meet them on the way. From the outside, the biodome is audibly opaque, except for the meeting areas and small listening platforms that only the Care Team are permitted to use.
Part of Adrian selfishly hopes that maybe something has gone wrong and that no one has had the time to come and get them. Though now inside the airlock, the form of Dr. Grace’s house is clearer, but the details are vague. Again, Adrian stalls; deliberately putting on their flexible Xenonite suit slowly. If Rocky were to run at full speed to them now– that would be enough, they think. It is all just a big misunderstanding.
The airlock’s readout counts down as the ammonia is replaced by oxygen. There is a vibrating buzz and a click as the inner door unlocks. Adrian swings open the door and taps the ground twice with a free claw. Up the cliff, they hear Rocky stand, then, just as quickly, lower their carapace to the ground. Grace was lying oddly on the ‘couch’ next to them, asleep if their slow heartbeat and breaths had anything to say about it. The thin-aired distance between them obscuring details, and while Adrian can hear the distant worried wines and clicks of Rocky, his exact words are lost.
“-dreain my love, my mate, the song of my soul.” The words came into focus as Adrian climbed the steps. They do quite like the groveling, and they do nothing to stop it. Rocky continues as Adrian opens the door: “You are the most beautiful creature in the whole universe, the passion of my star and my whole everything.”
Adrian stops and assesses the house. Dr.Grace is still sleeping; the Human Thinking Machine is propped up on the ‘coffee table’ next to the couch, and Rocky is genuflecting as low as he can. His carapace pressed to the floor and second-joints high above the top of its body. Adrian ignores Rocky for a moment, walking over to Dr. Grace; there is something odd about him. Any other time, he would have instantly woken upon the sound of the airlock, let alone his front door. Rocky was also making quite the racket as he continued to grovel. Dr.Grace had described himself as a ‘feather light’ sleeper; however, now, as he sleeps on the couch, he is making strange buzzing sounds on each of his inhales. He is also much more relaxed in his sleep than any other time Adrian has seen him before. Taking in the information, and as Dr. Grace twitches and snorts in his sleep, Adrian thinks it’s rather…
Cute.
“Adrian?” Rocky attempts to crawl forward while keeping its carapace on the ground. “... the Care Team had lightly poisoned Grace. Not enough to harm but… he is scattered. The human word is ‘high’ . He asked me to stay until he was… ah un-scattered. Apology, Apology, Apology.”
“I understand why you stayed,” Adrian says, while assessing Dr. Grace once again. He scratches the odd fibers on his face before falling fully unconscious. Adrian continues, “One should not become scattered without a partner. I am glad you are here for Dr.Grace. However… I am still hurt.”
“Yes will make it up to you a thousand times over.” Rocky lifts himself up slightly, and Adrian steps towards him. Lifting an arm and bringing it down to the floor, in the motion rubbing the rough outside against Rocky’s covered carapace. The motion sends vibrations through his body. Luckily, there are no other Eridians in the room, or they would be scandalized by the explicit gesture. Adrian feels every inch of the external and internal parts of their mate’s body as they shift closer and rake their arm across Rocky’s carapace again.
“You will make it up to me, yes.” To anyone besides Rocky, Adrian’s tone would have been cold and angry, but to their mate, it was a siren’s song: “you have many many many nights to make up for your being gone.”
Rocky chirps indignantly and scrambles to Adrian’s side, bumping their carapaces together with an overexcited ‘clack’.
“Rock-” a voice calls from the couch, and the two quickly remember that even if there aren’t any Eridians around, there is someone still in the room with them. Grace’s voice is scratchy and confused.
“Friend Doctor Grace,” Adrian calls, stepping towards the human. “I came to see where my mate had gone off to.”
Rocky dips his carapace in supplication but quickly climbs back onto his human. “Grace still Scattered question?”
“What’s that word Rocky?” Grace asks his words slurred.
“Scattered, like Human Word Grace used ‘high’” there is a lilting laugh in Rocky’s tone as he already knows the answer, as Grace looks down at his hands. Fingers splaying and retracting.
“Mmmm,” Dr. Grace hums. “Yeah, not as bad as earlier but still… yeah, definitely still high. But… nicely… so. Hm, not in pain.”
That gets Rocky to excitedly chirp and stand over Grace. Grace, for his part, giggles a bit and looks over to Adrian. He shows all of his remaining mouth-bones and raises his hands, doing jazz hands at the sight of Adrian. “Adri! Good good good! To see you!”
“Good to see you too, Doctor-Friend Grace.” Adrian approaches, putting a hand on Grace’s; he leans forward and wraps his arms around Adrian, nearly falling off the couch. Adrian pulls back with alarm when he puts his mouth-parts against the crest of their carapace, squealing and attempting to shift away without hurting the delicate creature. “Grace trying to eat Adrian?!”
“No s’a kiss,” Grace does the motion again, “it's the highest show of affection a human can give.”
“Gross gross gross,” Adrian says but does not fight against the second attempt. Rocky makes a clicking sound that communicates annoyance. But they choose to ignore their mate for the alien, saying in a tone that is too low for Grace to hear, “Rocky gets extra time with Grace, Adrian gets kisses from Grace to make even.”
It sounds like Rocky is about to argue more when Grace staggers to a stand, saying “hm speaking of eating I have the munchies like nothing else. Gonna be eating here- if you want to vacate the premi-premicsisseissis”
Rocky has been watching Grace eat for over five earth-years now. He does not care, and Adrian has been observing creatures consume as a part of their studies for nearly two-hundred earth-years. While Grace’s eating habits were odd to observe, mastication being particularly odd, it is biology in the end, and Adrian is anything but a prude. Besides, mastication is no worse than listening to sky-animals filterfeed through thousands of kilos of microbes; they are equally as wet in Adrian’s assessment.
“Grace needs help, question?" Rocky asks as he follows the human into the ‘kitchen’. Grace just hums in a way that conveys no information. He stands in the middle of the space for 72 seconds before saying something about ‘peanut butter’ and going to the ‘cabinet’ to grab several items. A large sealed bag of puffed tau-flakes, a bottle of organic lipids in a spray bottle, salt, citric acid, and a flask of dried herbs. He rips the bag of tau-flakes open with his teeth. Those were made out of sheets of Taumiba that had been dried, then ‘deep fried’ in a vat of lipids, causing the thin, hardened flakes to puff up into something Dr. Grace had described them as before as ‘rice-crackers ’, or ‘like styrofoam’. He sprayed the puffs with the same lipids before adding a large pinch of salt, citric acid, and the dried herbs. He takes another bowl of similar size and uses it as a lid, shaking everything together.
“Tau-kies,” Grace laughs. He looks out the window for a long time, just holding the bowl in his hands. “I need to watch that video on how to turn gloves into capsaicin again…”
“Grace okay Question?” Rocky asks.
–
Grace looks over to his best friend, the warm draw of pure joy and love pulling at his heart. He’s sure that he has some sort of dumb smile on his face. Part of him is annoyed he woke up still so high, though for as much as he took, a two-hour nap was not going to even get close to the half-life. He remembers reading a study that regular users have longer half-lives than those who use it less regularly. Hopefully he’ll be closer to the short end of the bell curve if that's the case. However, that is something for Sober Grace to deal with. For right now, he has his snacks and his best friend to hang out with.
Grace’s eyes lift to where Adrian stands behind Rocky, and that bubble of joy somehow grows more. He had forgotten Adrian was here; how could he forget! He usually was hyper aware of everything going on around him at all times. Still, right now he could only concentrate on one minuscule thing at a time, a bit annoying but also a relief from the hypervigilance he had even before joining the Petrova Taskforce.
Rocky makes a clicking sound, bringing Grace’s attention back to him. “Grace stand for a long time. Being stupid question?”
“Oh you know it.” Grace laughs. He blinks slowly; he feels like he needs to do something but is not quite sure.
“Grace, want to watch painting man again?” Rocky shuffles; Grace Hums in response. Shuffling forward, as close to confirmation as he can show. Rocky chirps and leads Grace back to the living area, guiding Grace back onto the couch, and starting the video back up. As Grace makes himself comfortable, he can feel the conversation that Rocky and Adrian are having outside of his hearing range. Adrian, who has sat on his left, and Rocky, who has tucked himself in the crook of his knees, split their attention three ways, between each other, Grace, and the video.
“Gonna snack if you want to evacuate,” Grace says, shoving his hand into the bowl of tau-kies.
“Chemical Grace consumed…” Adrian asks carefully, “it makes him hungry?”
Grace gives a so-so gesture with his hand. “It’s less… making me hungry-hungry, Humans call it the munchies…. Weed, more ac-acuratly it turns off the ‘I’m full’ feeling, and I think it just makes food taste… better. It- makes most sensory stuff just… nicer… taste, smells, sounds… touch. Not heightened but… softer, better, fuzzy.”
Grace trails off as if that would make sense to an alien. He shoves another handful of crunchy flakes in his mouth and, in the same breath, downs a swig of taumeba. The part of his brain that can feel the reality of his body knows he’s full, but there’s still the yawning emptiness he feels next to his stomach. The food still isn't good, but it’s a hell of a lot better than it usually is. Again, he feels the conversation happening between his two best friends, his hair tickling the back of his neck with the vibrations and somewhere inside his chest and in his bones. It isn't a wholly unpleasant sensation, especially now, like a massage gun across his entire body.
Grace chews his lip and watches Bob Ross for a while longer. Living in the physical feeling of the high and the thrumming speech of the two Eridians speaking around him. He watches the man paint and feels the warm tingling of his body, the plushness of the pillow beneath his head, and even the hair on his legs rubbing together pleasantly.
“Chirp chirp,” Grace mutters, continuing to rub his legs together. Both Rocky and Adrian freeze and turn their full attention to him at the odd comment. Grace laughs at the confused– well, expression isn't the right word, but if they had faces, it would definitely be perplexed. “I’m a cricket. Chirp chirp”
He closes his eyes and tries to remember what he did in the past when he got high. Sure, it’s fun, but it's also boring. He remembers… music, yes, music is good.
—
Ryland lay on the floor of his dorm, music playing too loud from his nearby shitty laptop. A beer in one hand and an ashtray by the other. He watched the off-white ceiling dance above him and hummed along with The Four Seasons: Summer. It was his Junior year, and he was able to snag a single dorm room; he just couldn't risk a roommate when he needed to study. Not after the past two years of hellish roommates, between Henry and Leo; Ryland has promised himself that as long as he’s able, he’s never going to have a roommate again.
He’s high, probably drunk too but too wasted to care in either direction. Anymore, he’s either deep in his academics or plastered. Anything to get his mind to be quiet for once. He has to distract himself; otherwise it all just becomes too much. The pressure, his inability to act like a normal person, the sheer loneliness and mourning. There is a reason he can afford a single dorm and a fancy watch. Both he’d give up in an instant given the choice, but he’s never been given any choices, not really. And even now, lying on the floor plastered, that aching hole next to his heart feels like it's going to eat him from the inside out.
There is a knock at the door which he pretends not to hear. It’s probably an RA; there are still a few around during the holiday break. They’re mostly chill with his habits; they’d have to kick out half the residents if they actually enforced their substance use policies, but they still had to look like they were doing something about it. However, when the knocking turns into pounding and a voice that is very much NOT an RA comes through, Ryland lifts himself up on his elbow watching the door. The voice calls, “Grace, I know you're in there. No one has seen you for like five days… I know how to pick these locks so you better put on some pants before I open it.”
Ryland rolls his eyes and lies back down. If Abby wants in his room, she’ll let herself in. She graduated last year. No, he does not know how she still gets into the dorms; she just does. Showing up whenever she sees fit. Ryland vaguely wonders if she’s his friend. Well, acquaintances don’t break into guarded buildings to hang out, so it’s a maybe.
“Oi’ Gracie,” she says, looking down at him from where he’s sprawled on the floor. “You smell like a skunk, holy shit. When was the last time you showered?”
There is the sound of the tiny window being opened at the far side of the room. It’s cold outside– and the cool air blows into the room, clearing the worst of the decaying stink. Abby squats next to Ryland, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. “Ya good there, science boy?”
Ryland rolls his eyes and sits up. “Yeah, just waiting for the break to be over.”
Abby hums, seeming to consider a few things. “You just rotting then?”
“Yep.” Ryland pops the ‘p’ at the end. “I’m still alive so you can tell whoever thinks they’re concerned to fuck off.”
Abby’s expression pulls in on itself. “You know that isn’t a bad thing right? People caring?”
Ryland Glares at Abby before just as quickly turning his eyes away. Abby sighs and sits down, getting more comfortable on the floor. She looks over to the nearby ashtray and picks up the half-smoked blunt. “Anything in this?”
“No, just weed,” Ryland says. His reputation preceding itself. Abby sighs and lights it, taking a long drag and blowing out.
“God you gotta get a better plug, ‘ry,” she coughs and laughs. “This is shit.”
Ryland plucks the blunt out of her fingers. “That’s the thing, Abbs, you just gotta not care.”
He, in return, takes just as long a drag, hardly noting the harsh burn of the shitty quality weed in his throat and lungs. The two stay like that for a while, taking turns taking drags and letting a comfortable quiet fall between them. Abby shifts and scoots closer to Grace’s body; she knows he can be weird about touch, so she makes her movements slow as she lies down next to him and uses his arm as a pillow. Staring at the ceiling together and listening to Vivaldi, passing the blunt between them. Abby ashes the last of the blunt, sitting up slowly, still humming, Ryland taking a moment longer after her. He’s looking down at his hands in his lap, and she’s looking at him.
“Grace,” Abby pulls his attention to her; her voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost nervous. “You can say no, but can I kiss you?”
Grace stiffens harshly, eyes wild with fear. “I thought you were a lesbian?!”
“I am,” Abby says simply.
“I-I-I,” Ryland stammers, and Abby rolls her eyes. Ryland continues, “I’m not a woman? I have a beard and chest hair and a cock.”
“I’ve met plenty of women with cocks and beards,” Abby says simply. As if that makes sense.
“No-n-n-no.” Grace’s heart is pounding so hard that he swears Abby can hear it. “No. I don't want to kiss you.”
Ryland stands looking at his shoes and points to the door. “I need you to leave.”
Abby’s mouth thins and something behind her eyes turns from sad to resentful. She stands and dusts off her knees. “Sure, sure I’ll go. It was good seeing you didn’t kill yourself Gracie…”
Abby hesitates; Ryland stands stock-still. Still pointing at the door, but not looking up. “You need to go, or I will call security.”
Abby rolls her eyes and steps towards the door. Her final remark: “You can call me when you figure it out.”
—
Wow, I don't have time to unpack all of that, Grace thinks. Rocky is in his face again, hands worrying over him, not quite touching Rocky. Says, “THC compound make Grace Very Stupid”
“Hm, yeah,” Grace mutters. “I had a memory too; sorry if I spaced out on you.”
“Not in space, Grace on Erid,” Adrian says urgently.
“Word like 🎵human translation,” Rocky says. The word has the tones of ‘head’ ‘body’ and ‘lost/separate’ but harmonized to convey humor. Rocky turns back to Grace. “Good or bad memory, question? Do not seem upset.”
Grace thinks about it for a while, his mind still slippery between his ears: “bad-ish but only because I was being a jerk… nothing bad happened to me.”
Rocky bobs his carapace in a nod, climbing off Grace and onto Adrian. Adrian makes a fond hum as their mate clambers onto their carapace. Grace finishes off his food and props his legs up onto the armrest, closing his eyes but not quite sleeping.
“Rocky, Grace, talk to Care Team once No longer scattered,” Adrian says.
Grace hums in return. “Yeah, probably a good idea… I’m not against the idea of… hm, synthesizing more THC but we have to have a talk about… active ingredients and what– what to look out for”
Grace’s words are cut off by a yawn. Adrian and, by extension, Rocky shift closer to Grace. Adrian hums again in thought, “Rocky Grace sleep Adrian watch.”
“Hm” Grace hums in response “yeah, i should probably move to the bed then–”
“No move.” Adrian cuts Grace off, their words clipped oddly.
“Hm? Why?”
“Adrian… cannot move,” Adrian says and shifts slightly where they sit. Grace’s eyes trace up to where Rocky lies on top of their carapace.
“Is he-”
“... yes, Rocky fell asleep.” Adrian laughs. “Was very anxious; now everything good good good fall asleep without meaning. Not the first time.”
“Oh, I know.” Grace laughs, feeling the cascade of fondness and joy roll over his body. “Thanks, Adri, for being so under–standing. You didn’t sign up for this but-”
“Adrian used to being 🎵for Rocky can be for Friend-Doctor Grace too” the tones of the word translate to scatter-helper with tones meaning friend and protector between. Adrian seems to think for a moment, “Also, Rocky owes Adrian another date night and many favors now.”
The word ‘favor’ is said in such a way that it would convey a wink in human communication. Grace snorts and rolls his eyes fondly. “Glad he’s not in too much trouble then.”
“Still in trouble, but that is part of the favor.” Grace is learning a lot more about His best friend and his mate than he ever wanted to know. The itchy memory of DuBois and Shipero coming to the front of his mind for whatever reason… Anyway, he needs a nap. And according to Grace’s best estimates, he has approximately ten to twenty hours of being high as a kite to work through. At least it makes eating and sleeping easier.