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“Grace uncomfortable, question?”
“Yeah, Rock,” I groan, trying to roll over onto my side. Honestly, I should have known it would be an exercise in futility, but I am, in fact, uncomfortable, so I try anyway, then fail with an exasperated huff.
“Grace want Rocky, question?”
“To do what?” I ask, shuffling again. Neither of us has any clue how long this will last, but I hope it’s not too much longer. It’s already been months upon months of this; I don’t know how much longer I can last, personally.
Rocky’s quiet for a moment before he trills and asks again, “Grace want Rocky, question?”
I consider this, then say, “I do, yeah. If you want.”
“Rocky fix,” Rocky declares, hefting himself up onto the bed beside me. His xenonite suit is fit to his body, letting me feel the outline of his shape even if I can’t exactly touch him, right now. It’d be a comfort to touch him fully, but we try to save that for special occasions.
As it is, he weighs as much as a refrigerator or more, and, as always, the mattress dips under him when he shifts, readjusting at my side. We both worked hard to reinforce the bedframe and make a special mattress and sheet set just for this purpose, so he wouldn’t tear through it at a moment’s notice, and I’m grateful for it when he finally settles down beside me. I love when he gets to lay on me, but, right now, we’re not risking it.
“Better, better, better,” Rocky declares, curling up at my side, reaching around me to hold onto me and pull me closer. “Grace hug Rocky. Grace hug Rocky now. Grace hug—”
“I’m here, I’m here,” I reply, shifting closer to throw my arm over him. He shuffles a little as I snuggle him in against my chest, and he strokes over my face, down my side, over my stomach, where he settles.
“Babies good, question?” he asks, and I nod, pushing my face into his carapace, glad to have him here.
He was right when he said ‘Grace want Rocky;’ I always want Rocky, and especially now. Statement.
“Yeah, they’re all good,” I tell him, shifting, trying to get comfortable. Again— exercise in futility. “Just heavy. And hot. And they keep— like, moving.”
“This make sense,” Rocky intones. “Grace know this. Grace smart. Grace not smart now? Grace need more rest?”
“I always need more rest, Rock, I’m carrying your alien children,” I groan back, finally managing to hitch my leg up around Rocky when he grabs at it himself, holding it up for me, letting the muscles stretch. “God, that feels good. Don’t move.”
Rocky takes this as literally as possible, going stone-still beside me. I wrap my arms a little more closely around him, shifting, letting one of his other limbs take the weight of my rounded stomach, as well. That feels even better, and I sigh, my whole body relaxing. Damn it, I miss relaxing.
“Rocky guilty, statement,” Rocky chimes at me.
“Nothing to feel guilty about,” I reply, closing my eyes as I hug him a little closer. He trills at me. “Takes two to tango.”
“Explain.”
“Both of us were involved.” I shift again, looking for the perfect position, but Rocky stays as still as I asked him to. “I knew what might happen, and I did it anyway. Thought they might just have been eggs— But, you know, we did it together, so. Expect the unexpected. It’s all good.”
“Grace not all good, statement.” Rocky does a nervous little tapping, pushing two of his arms together, bumping, bumping, and I groan again at the movement. Once again, he stops, goes still, and I sigh.
“Yeah, I’m not all good, but that’s fine,” I reply. Pulling my hand off of Rocky, I run it over my own side, find his— his hand, for lack of a better word, and seal mine over his. “I knew I wouldn’t be. And— You know what? It’s worth it.”
“Worth, worth, worth,” Rocky echoes, pushing in a bit to my side. In response, one of the babies shifts like I have been, moving restlessly, and I can feel it, the way the creature moves, the way one of our babies moves, in a slow, heavy roll against my side. Still, it’s much better than when I first met Rocky and thought he’d impregnate me like in Alien, where they’d just— burst out of me. So far, this is— about as normal as I could expect, I imagine, for my and Rocky’s ever-evolving definition of normal.
Still—
“They’re going to look like you, I can just tell,” I say, releasing Rocky so I can rub my hand against my side, trying to calm them down.
“More like Eridians,” Rocky agrees. “Can see, can feel. Can know, statement.”
“How much can you see?” I ask around a yawn. After such a restless night, having Rocky this close and this comforting has me dozing a little bit, even as I attempt to stay awake and present in the conversation.
“Can see movements,” Rocky informs him. “Adrian working build machine, show us more of insides. Show us babies, babies, babies.”
“Oh, yeah?” I wrack my brain for a second— it’s been ridiculous, the brain fog I’ve entered, where everything takes me a moment or more to remember or decipher or figure out— but I remember, “Like an ultrasound machine. Right.”
“Ultrasound machine,” Rocky repeats with a tinge of confusion. “What ultrasound machine, question?”
“Didn’t come across that in the encyclopedias I gave you?” I ask. “For shame, Rocky.”
“Do not insult,” Rocky protests. “I remember much. More focus on Grace now. Focus, focus, focus.”
A surge of affection runs through me, centered in my heart, and I nuzzle a little bit closer to him, glad for his proximity and our compatibility and for— for him, just— I can’t help but be so grateful I have him, always.
“It’s sort of like…” I pause, then explain, “It’s a machine we use back on Earth to be able to look at babies before they’re born. Sort of, it’s not like a camera or anything, but you can see a lot. Enough to know— uh, what their body might look like, if they’re sick or healthy. Things like that.”
Rocky taps for a moment, humming, before he says, “I tell Adrian. Adrian can do.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second, Rock,” I tell him around another yawn. “I’m so tired.”
“Grace sleep.”
“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping,” I admit. “You’re making me feel better, though.”
I shift again, and Rocky pulls me closer, letting me drape over him. Finally, finally, I’m in the right position, and a full-body tension starts to slip out of me. Even the babies feel exhausted, their constant, restless movements slowing as I get more and more comfortable against Rocky. Maybe they even recognize that he’s there; I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Grace need sleep,” Rocky insists. “Rocky stay. Rocky watch family sleep.”
“Family,” I echo with a pleased, sleepy smile on my face. “Never thought I’d have one of those.” I can feel it, the way contentment and pleasure spread through me. “Yeah. Keep an eye on us, will you?”
“Always, always, always,” Rocky promises, knocking his front into my face, his approximation of a kiss. “Safe in sleep. Rocky watch. Rocky protect, statement.”
“You’re always so good at that,” I agree around another yawn. “Okay, I’m gonna shut my eyes, if that’s okay with you.”
“Grace rest,” Rocky agrees with a gentle, chiming trill. He settles against me, half-beneath me, strokes my side, runs through my hair. It’s the safest, I think, that I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Love you, Rocky,” I mumble, already falling into sleep. I won’t resist it; I’ve been waiting for it for too long. “I’ll watch you sleep after, okay?”
“Love Grace,” Rocky replies, still stroking softly. “Love babies. Love family. Rest, rest, rest. No worry about Rocky.”
“Always worry about Rocky,” I reply, though the words are a slurry, half-asleep mess.
“Always worry about Grace,” Rocky says right back.
“Guess that’s part of love.” I snuggle closer, yawning right against him this time. He pauses, then imitates the sound back at me, all musical tones that make me smile. “Wake me up if you need anything.”
“Need Grace rest, statement,” comes Rocky’s response. “Need Grace look after babies.”
“Doing my best.” I shift again. “Why are they so damn heavy?”
“Eridians heavier than Earthlings, statement.”
“Yeah, no shiiii... shoot—"
“No curse around babies!”
“They can’t even—”
“No curse, no curse, no—”
“C’mon, Rock, just let me sleep,” I groan, and Rocky goes silent for a moment before he resumes his slow stroking through my hair, against my side, pulling me closer.
“Grace sleep,” he repeats, and knocks us together in another kiss before he holds me close.
“Grace sleep,” I mumble back, arm still thrown around him, finally letting myself fall away.