Chapter Text
It was a common joke growing up that the reason my mother named me Grace is because she wished I had more of it. That’s not how last names work, but the kids in middle and high school didn’t care about that when I tripped over my own two feet.
I’ve gotten better about tripping over air as an adult, but things like loose objects or cracks in the sidewalk still get me.
Case in point: my keys are currently sitting at the bottom of a floor air vent in the apartment’s lower floor corridor. The one where people go down and get their mail.
Not the greatest way to get my Saturday started, not even the best way to start the month because we have a new landlord and I don’t have their number. I have the old landlord’s number, but as far as I can tell he moved out and changed his contacts. The new landlord hasn’t reached out beyond a single email updating everyone on the change of ownership.
After 15 minutes I’m about halfway to losing my mind over locking myself out of my own apartment when the most unexpected person steps out of the elevator.
Rocky has a toolbox in hand, stepping out of the elevator like an astronaut stepping off a spaceship. He always walks so certainly, like he is intensely focused on every single step despite not paying attention to where his feet are at all.
“Rocky!?” I ask in surprise. I’m so taken off guard that it completely takes the edge off my building panic. “Hey man, what are you doing here?”
It’s more of a conversation starter than a real question, but I’m surprised. Both because Rocky is here and that he’s wearing almost the same outfit as his work uniform.
This time, Rocky is wearing a grey jumpsuit instead of a green one. Though I think that it’s the exact same make and model, all the pockets are in the same spots. Does he just have a dozen jumpsuits he wears interchangeably? Props to him, I could never pull off the look.
“Oh! Grace lives in this building too?” He’s smiling the entire time he says the sentence. His tone is completely flat without any confusion, just pure happiness. “I did not realize you were here!”
“Same, I had no idea you moved here. It’s uh. A pretty good neighborhood all things considered.” I absently raise a hand to scratch the back of my neck awkwardly.
I think that if it was anyone else, I’d feel horrifically insecure to find out one of my coworkers was my neighbor. I don’t have much of a life outside school, and I definitely don’t want to give my coworkers a way to find me outside of that. I don’t want anyone I work with to see me lounging around in my Sunday casuals.
I didn’t really used to care much about it, but since the whole Denmark conference thing I’m a little cagey about how much people know about my personal life. Which is admittedly uninteresting, so not much to worry over.
Still, I do everything I can to separate my personal life from work. It’s a habit at this point.
Rocky might be the exception to that, just because he doesn’t seem remotely interested in prying into other people’s business. He’s got his own interests and they occupy almost all of his attention outside of chatting. At least, when it comes to people he likes. According to Merissa, she hasn’t yet been able to corner him.
“It has been a very good neighborhood.” Rocky nods with a large exaggerated motion, swinging his glasses cord around. “What is Grace up to, question?” He tilts his head at me.
That’s another little quirk of his I’ve noticed. Even though he speaks English very well, he clearly doesn’t mind mangling it in order to make it comfortable for him to speak. You’d think that he was fluent if not for the fact he decided that some pieces of the language are optional.
I definitely appreciate him clarifying his actual questions from his rhetorical ones. That tripped me up a lot as a kid. Still does, really.
It makes me feel quite flattered because I’ve only seen him do it around people he seems close with, which includes me.
Actually, so far at school it only seems to be me.
“I uh, dropped my keys down the vent.” I awkwardly gestured to the tiny air vent on the floor. It’s maybe twelve inches long and only four inches thick. Anyone who looked at it would think ‘wow, you managed to lose your keys to this thing?’
They fell at an angle, it’s my only excuse.
Rocky hums and leans down to examine the air vent. “Easy fix!” he boldly declares, setting the toolbox on the ground beside and immediately dropping into a crouch to start feeling for the screws.
I don’t know if he’s allowed to do that, but he does it anyway. “Um, I don’t think the landlord-” He holds up a hand to stop my words.
“Is okay. I have done this before.” Rocky reassures me, not even batting an eye as he takes a screwdriver and turns the first screw until it pops out. After that, he holds it up over his shoulder towards me.
“Grace hold screws please. Do not drop them.” He emphasizes the last bit with a little eyebrow raise and an amused smirk before turning back to the vent in question.
I take the screw gingerly, pinching it in between my fingers so that it also isn’t lost to the vent. “Do you mean you’ve done repairs on the building before?” I ask hesitantly, hoping that it isn’t a common occurrence for him to pop open random vents without asking.
“Yep. Heating systems are much more efficient now!” He sounds satisfied with himself. His hands are working so fast the vent is already halfway open.
My eyebrows go up. “Really? You fixed the AC and heating? I noticed the water pressurizes and gets hot almost immediately now, was that also you?” Did Rocky make a deal with the new owner to fix up the building so he could nab an apartment? It’s not my place to ask, but the new water pressure seriously rocks.
“Was an easy fix, just needed updating.” Rocky hums and hands me the final screw. He popped all four out in no time flat and wasted no time reaching down to grab my keys. “There we go, fixed!”
“Thanks!” I reach to take the keys with my other hand, but he abruptly holds them up high with a faux-suspicious look on his face. I watch him eye me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Give screws back first, I hold keys hostage so you don’t drop them.” He gives me a quirked eyebrow. “You aren’t named Grace for no reason.”
I laugh unexpectedly hard. Out of all of the “Named Grace because you have none” jokes I’ve endured, that was probably the best one!
We’ve grown surprisingly close quickly. After learning how snarky he can be, I think that fully solidified our friendship. His on-the-spot jokes are amazing as well.
“I accept your terms, surrender the keys and your precious screws will live to see another day.” I declare to Rocky and my captured keys. He solemnly nods and holds his hand out, still clenching the keys in one.
I drop the screws in his hand and try to snatch the keys from the other. His smirk grows into a full blown smile when I’m too weak to yank the small keychain away from him. Jiminy Christmas! His grip is solid. Is he nicknamed Rocky because he eats them or something?
“Grace should put keys on a long chain, have less chance of losing them.” He informs me somewhat smugly. This fudger has muscles and he knows it.
“You say that but it really wouldn’t.” I sigh in defeat, holding out my open hand to receive the keys of defeat. He plops them in my hand, fingers still lingering longer than socially acceptable. That’s okay, I’m touchy feely too.
We chit chat for a few minutes about random things, mostly jokes. He tells me not to lose my keys or else he’ll be forced to make new ones and hide them around my apartment. I tell him that if my keys go missing again I’ll already have a number 1 suspect.
It’s not surprising that the building has more people now. Prices in central queens were outrageous. I was only living here because it’s close to the school, but the new landlords lowered the price of everything to get more people to move in. The ones who already live here just so happened to reap that reward. Cheaper rent, cheaper utilities, it was great. Not a move I've ever heard of a landlord pulling, but you won't catch me complaining.
But still, to think that Rocky lives in the same building as me? Wow. And he just saved me at least a few hours and a bit of money. I’m in a celebratory mood.
“Rocky, let me know if there’s ever a time you want to go out for a drink and I’ll buy you one.” I’m not flush with cash, but I can appreciate some good inebreation(??) with friends every once in a while. I don’t have many so I have to take what I can get.
It’s been a while since I’ve gone drinking with a friend properly. Pretty much the only time I have one is when Rhona is at her limit with the school. That woman does so much for the rest of the teachers that it always builds into her wanting a stress release night. And when that happens she wants “The least stressful person she can possibly get” which is apparently me.
Rocky’s face twists into a grimace before it smooths out into a frayed smile. “Thank. But I don’t like drinking.”
Oh, well. Fair enough I guess. “Is lunch more your style then?”
His face does that reflective scrunch again. He looks like I’m talking about forcing the food down his throat bare-handed. “I do not like… ingesting with company.” The way he said that singular word was so clinical and deadpan that it made me pause.
Picky eater? Or maybe he just has his own digestive issues. I haven’t exactly asked about medical conditions, but it seems like he doesn’t want to bring it up. “Sorry, I just wanted to offer you something as thanks.”
Rocky nods like this is a satisfactory answer. His face is calm and serene as he says. “Understand. We will go to the Museum. I drive."
Wait… what?
Rocky pivots the conversation so flawlessly that I don’t even realize I’ve been strong-armed into a day out until he gently grabs my shoulder and starts leading me towards the front door of the building.
“Hang on, now?” I don’t shake his hand loose, but I do stop in place as soon as we’re three steps in. “I’m-”
The argument dies in my throat as soon as I see him turn to me with a confused expression. He doesn’t look upset, just genuinely befuddled as to why I’m not stepping out the door with him.
And why not? Why don’t I just step out the door with him? I already invited him out for a drink, is going to a museum really so different? If anything it’ll be more engaging then just sitting around a bar talking in the middle of the afternoon. Rocky clearly wants to hang out with me, am I hesitating just because it might be outside the social norm of places that coworkers go to?
I’ve already gotten all of my student’s pop quiz tests graded. The rest of the assignments can wait and be done tomorrow.
But I can’t just agree now! I’ve already objected. Oh but I don’t want to seem like a flake…. argh, me and my dumb brain.
“I-I’m not dressed.” I eventually stutter out, gesturing to the casual lay-about clothing that I am wearing. It’s just pants and a T-shirt, plus my sandals. Technically not clothes that are inappropriate to go out with, but my coworker is in a worker’s jumpsuit so I already feel underdressed.
It’s a lame excuse, but Rocky seems to buy it.
“Understood. You get dressed, I will wait.” Rocky nods once then slumps down into one of the entry-way armchairs. The firm and chiseled ones with absolutely no cushioning at all. They’re basically rocks but he looks right as home curled up on one.
He pulls out a bundle of metal… something from his tool belt. I almost want to call it metal yarn? It’s a half formed thing with metal strings springing up everywhere. He takes two sets of what look like elongated tweezers out of his belt, and begins gently weaving or spinning them into place. His eyes close even as his hands gain speed, seemingly falling into a state of zen while working.
Wow. Say what you want about the man, he is efficient.
“You sure? Is there anything else you need to get done today?” I glance at his toolbox, wondering if he actually had somewhere to be today or if he just carries it everywhere he goes.
“No. Just need to put tools in car for future.” With his eyes still closed he makes a small shooing motion with one hand. “Go get dressed.”
Feeling a little bit embarrassed, I do so.
I’m feeling slightly more confident by the time I’m back on the ground floor in a better shirt and actual shoes. This time I’m wearing a yellow button down. It was normally one of my work shirts but I needed something slightly nicer than my t-shirts.
Rocky is still weaving with his metal strings. The thing has shape now, but I can’t tell what it is since he puts it back in his pocket as soon as I approach.
“Grace ready?” He asked
“Ready.” I agree.
It’s a quick trip to get out of the building and down to the garage that I almost never use. I mainly use the bike rack at the back of the building, but Rocky has a car so that’s where we head.
Even though I’ve only known Rocky for a while, I can already tell he’s a huge function over fashion kind of guy. Normally I don’t get along with most of those types, being the disorganized disaster of a human that I am, but Rocky doesn’t seem to begrudge me my quirks. All that is to say that I’m not at all surprised when he heads directly towards a convertible jeep wrangler.
It’s not quite the pickup truck that I had envisioned him driving, but it’s close enough from what I expected of the man. A bit flashier than I expected. The car stood out even from the other end of the lot because of the weird grey-brown camo paneling. At least I think it’s supposed to be camo, it looks a bit too shiny for it. The entire car looks almost brand new because of whatever it’s been coated with.
Rocky gets into the driver’s seat and throws the toolbox in the back of the jeep. The sudden bang of all his tools crashing around in his toolbox startles me a bit as I open the other side, but Rocky doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest with the state of the tools as they collide with the backseat.
Just like Rocky, everything in the Jeep is neat and orderly. There’s a few large boxes in the trunk, but I can’t really make out what they’re for. The only thing in the backseat is the toolbox, so I guess no harm done.
I can’t help but feel a little bit giddy as I get inside. When I was younger I wanted to be a field scientist. The kind of field scientist that would fly halfway across the world for a new discovery, or be the first one to make contact with an unknown species.
Call me a nerd, but I used to think those movies where scientists would trawl around a jungle or a desert in a jeep were the coolest. Jurassic park was probably my favorite movie up until I was at least 14. Even though the science wasn’t real, I still loved to dream.
Unfortunately for my past self but fortunate for me, microbiology consists of a lot less field work and a lot more controlled environmental testing. That still doesn’t make me feel any less happy about being in a jeep as a scientist.
“Do you have a museum in mind?” I ask Rocky.
He hums for a moment. It’s pitch perfect and rolls out of his throat beautifully. “Science.” He says with no elaboration.
My eyebrows raise. “Wait wait wait, a science museum? I thought you wanted to go to an art museum?” Why the hell would he want to go to a science museum when he already knows so much about-
Oh. He’s doing it for me.
“Rocky, hang on- this outing was supposed to be for you. You don’t have to take me to a science center just because I’m a biology teacher.” I try to reason with him. This was supposed to be a thank-you outing!
We pull out of the parking spot and start leaving the garage. Guilt is now weighing on me, I feel like I’m forcing him to cater to my interests. The last thing I want is to make him feel like he has to do only things that I like so that I’ll enjoy spending time with him, that’s just not who I am. I already feel horrible about it.
It’s too late to turn back now.
I watch Rocky take a deep breath in and sigh before speaking. I can tell he’s been sincere and honest because he’s formatting his words into proper english to talk. “I know, Grace. I am very smart, but I don’t understand most sciences. My whole life I have learned about science second hand. Science is visual, not very hands on. So much of science is observation, I didn’t get the chance to observe for myself. I understand the theoretical concept but don’t really comprehend unless explained.” Rocky sits up a tiny bit straighter and makes the solid declaration of: “I want to learn again. Properly this time! With visual demonstrations instead of words on a page!”
Oh… I’d never really thought about it like that.
Rocky reaches over with one hand and pokes me. “Which is why I have Grace to explain everything to me.” His lips are quirked up into a impish smile.
Oh damn. I might actually be about to cry a little bit.
To be honest, one of the rumors going around the school about Rocky is that he’s from a far off country that doesn’t have a lot of interactions with the mainland. I know that rumor only spawned because of the handprint and line tattoos on his arm, they don’t look like tribesman markings but I as a white american man do not have any knowledge nor right to form an opinion on that so I have been firmly ignoring it.
…Someday if I get the courage, I might ask Rocky why his line tattoos don’t seem to have any forms of measurement markings on them. I know they’re for measuring, I’ve seen him hold his hand out to cut small bits of metal before. When he’s bored at work, he’ll use them to make tiny models for his “puppet shows.”
I still don’t know if I’m reading too deeply into this but I’m not about to ask. I’m here for whatever Rocky wants right now.
“So you want me to take you to the museum to just… tour you around?” I decide to clarify.
“Yes! Want to learn all about human science with colors this time!” He almost yells in his excitement. He also turns to face me and takes one hand off the wheel to “jazz hand” at me. Right as we turn into oncoming traffic.
“ROCKY WATCH THE ROAD!” I yell.
✧ ༝┉˚* ❋ Follow Safety Laws. ❋* ˚┉༝ ✧
Miraculously, we make it to the museum in one piece.
✧ ༝┉˚* ❋ Give Kindness to Yourself and Others. ❋* ˚┉༝ ✧
It’s about four hours later when we pull back into the parking lot home. Rocky and I are still caught up in talking about the survivability of microorganisms in space.
God I haven’t had such great theoretical discussions since Uni. A lot of my classmates had been more willing to entertain my thesis on the theoretical existence of non-water based organisms than my professors or other academics were.
Rocky has a surprisingly large amount of knowledge on the topic of genetically modifying microorganisms into performing controlled environmental tasks. Says that it’ll be the future of science, which I completely agree with. What comes as a surprise to me is that he seems to think genetic modification is the key to better engineering, since there is no better engineer than mother nature herself.
I feel disappointed as we step over to the elevator. I’m sure that Rocky’s a busy guy, and I have my own stuff to get done. It’s almost five in the evening, so I better get started on the rest of those assignments if I want any time to have for myself on Sunday.
“Thanks for hanging with me.” I tell him as we get out of the elevator. “I’ll see you Monday."
“Always happy to spend time with Grace.” Rocky says with certainty. To my surprise, he steps out of the elevator onto my floor with me. “Wait one second, have one more thing for Grace.”
My tired body perks with interest as he goes back into one of his pockets to fish out whatever he was working on earlier. It’s another small figurine, but this time with a chain attached.
“For your keys.” He tells me with a smile as he holds it out. It pools delicately in his outurned hands, and like usual his grip seems to linger as he passes it to me politely.
I examine the chain. It’s a nice long chain, very smooth- almost like a necklace. There are three things attached to it. A little oblong clip where the entire thing can hook onto something, a tiny keyring where the keys clip on, and a two inch long charm made completely of a glassy gold material I can barely identify.
Oh! It’s a tiny spaceship, it looks just like the kinds that NASA builds but more… hm… Pizazzy I guess. I can see large fuel tanks, a slim crew compartment, and large wings on either side. It’s attached to the key chain by a tiny clip extending from the end of the center crew compartment.
One of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. Easily outdoing the 2,000$ watch my brother got me as an apology gift that I never wear because it’s too expensive looking but can’t sell because it was a gift.
I look up at Rocky not knowing what to say.
“Thank you.” is the only thing that can make it past my lips, instead of something like this is the closest I’ve ever been with someone and it’s only been a few days since we’ve met.
He puts a hand over his heart like a knight swearing a vow. “Anything for Grace.” He solemnly swears. It might've been a little weird to anyone else, but I was getting too choked up to do anything but grin at him.
He waves goodbye eagerly as the elevator reopens to take him to his own floor. I wave just as vigorously. Yep, it’s official: we’re friends.
It isn’t until I start fiddling with it on my way back into my apartment that I realize the long middle part of the spaceship- the part that would function as the main crew area actually slides out!
Gently, the little spaceship middle slides out and turns 90 degrees so that it’s perpendicular to the rest of the model. It was a cool function, but I couldn’t figure out why it was built to do that.
One thing I immediately notice is that the model fuel tanks seem to be hollow. The crew compartment is much heavier than the other bits of the model. When it’s slid out like this the entire thing tilts so that the crew compartment is in the middle.
Immediately, my monkey brain gets the idea to hold the whole thing up and spin it. Which it does easily. I can hold onto the little clip holding it to the keychain and just flick it to spin it around super fast. It’s really fun to spin but I have no idea why the two pieces are built to slide like that in the first place. On a real spaceship this wouldn’t be helpful unless-
“Oh my god it’s a centrifuge!" I realize. If this space ship were feasibly realistic in any way, then the (empty?) fuel tanks would be spinning around in order to spin the crew compartment fast enough to simulate gravity!
That little genius built a tiny centrifuge on a tiny spaceship on a chain! This is the coolest keychain in the world!
It’s so official. Rocky is the best friend I’ve ever had.