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The journey to Erid was slow going.
Space. More space. Some stars. A little more space. And oh, hey, would you look at that! Space again!
During his lonely trek back to Earth, Ryland Grace had considered cracking out the cocktail of Knockout Juice to slip him into a coma until he was home. Now, however, he wasn’t alone aboard the Hail Mary. Heck, he wasn’t even going home anymore.
He’d been on such a rollercoaster of emotions over heading back to Earth. Despair, acceptance (not really), hope, then acceptance again (for real this time). With the finality of his choice to stay permanently in foreign space, something festered within Grace.
Despite the companionship he has, an awful emptiness latched its teeth into his core and wouldn’t abate. No matter how much time he’d spend with Rocky or watch clips of Earth in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, the feeling of wrongness stayed, and Grace has no idea how to stop it.
A shudder runs through his form, making Grace hunch further in on himself, gripping onto his arms. His skin ached something fierce, despite his hands rubbing along the surface in a meager attempt to self-soothe against the barrage of phantom needles.
What he would give to be bundled in his mother’s arms like he was ten again after tumbling off his bike and scraping his knee. Or being smothered in his dad’s all-encompassing embrace after a failed science experiment, a promise that one day, “He’d be the smartest and coolest of all scientists”. What he’d give for any form of hug at all whilst in deep space-
The invisible aches haunting his body intensify in a sudden surge. Grace freezes in place, struck by a daunting realisation.
…Oh.
It was cruel and unfair, but it made sense. The urge to cry welling up behind his eyes has Grace's breath shuddering out of him sporadically.
“Grace, okay, question?”
The doubled thudding of the Eridian’s back leg cuts through the static building in Grace’s head. He looks to the side and finds the alien ‘watching’ him intently, his carapace shifting in blatant concern.
Grace has to push the word out of his throat. “...No.” He rubs his palm along his arm with a disconnected fervor. It doesn’t feel as though the warmth of his own skin is even getting through.
“What problem, question?”
How could he even begin to explain the torrential emotions wreaking havoc on his wrung-out body? “There’s something wrong with me.”
“Grace sick? Question?” Rocky is growing restless, feet thunking against the xenonite shell of his ball.
Grace swallows back the lump trying to start an uprising of sadness in his throat. It was a persistent battle. “It’s a human thing,” he rasps. “I don’t know if it can be helped.”
“Explain. Rocky fix.”
Grace shakes his head as he burrows into his arms, both to hide his burning eyes and to escape this conversation. Rocky couldn’t fix it. Bless that alien’s heart of gold for trying, but he just couldn’t. What Grace needed, what he was craving, was human touch. It had been years since he left Earth, and his skin was growing desperate for an inkling of steady, warm contact. But by abandoning his journey to Earth in favour of saving his best friend - which he didn’t regret for a second, mind you - he’d robbed himself of the chance to ever experience it again.
Granted, the last memory of touch was being forcibly restrained to the ground, suffocating pressure pinning him down as he screamed for help that would never come. Not exactly a golden recollection of human connection.
A steady series of tapping filters into Grace’s ears, getting past the marching band thumping away. He peeks over his forearm. Rocky has rolled himself so close that he’s right beside his friend.
“Heartbeat fast,” the Eridian states, worry warbling through his medeloic voice. “Bad, bad, bad. Oxygen needed.”
He’s close enough that Grace can feel the alien’s warmth through the xenonite. His skin practically buzzes with the idea of leaning against the Eridian’s stone-like form, multiple arms encircling him with a pressure that could settle his racing thoughts and lonely heart.
Grace can’t help it. He gives in to his pathetic, human instincts.
His arms stretch out from his self-contained ball of panic to clutch around the xenonite, drag Rocky into his chest, and slump against the warm, glass-like surface. A sob tries to strangle his throat, but any noise is kept locked behind Grace’s pursed lips. Rocky tucks himself against the wall separating them, soft melodic noises rumbling from his form in an attempt to settle the erratic pounding he can hear within Grace’s chest. He’d only heard this in moments of extreme distress for his human, and it hurt every time. Though Grace is trying to stay quiet, soft plinks of moisture hitting the top of the zenonite were heard loud and clear for the alien.
Grace clings to the zenonite ball as tightly as he can, trying to trick his mind into believing that the smooth, warm surface was what it was after. That this hug shared between two species unable to coexist in the same environment is enough to satisfy his human instincts.
His skin prickles. The tears keep falling. It isn’t enough. And it will stay that way for as long as he is away from Earth.
A shudder runs through the man at this bleak thought, the ever-expanding pit in his chest feeling as though it’s swallowing up his entire being.
As if he heard the emotional casam split further, Rocky’s warbles take on a mournful croon. “Grace, tell Rocky what wrong. Please?”
Grace presses his tear-stained cheek against the warm surface, sighing miserably.
“I’m touch starved.” He says it quietly, fingertips brushing over a surface that isn’t organic enough to trick his brain into thinking it’s skin. “Humans are social beings; we naturally seek connection, and with that comes physical contact. It’s common with anyone we’re close to, not just mates. It’s ingrained into us to co-regulate, so when we go for a long time without that, it causes us to experience skin hunger. It makes humans feel bad.”
Rocky cocks his body to the side, akin to tilting one's head. “Is hug helping badness?”
Grace wishes he could say yes, but then he’d be lying, and he didn’t want to do that to Rocky. Shaking his head miserably, Grace scrubs a fist across his eyes to stem the flow of tears. “No. I’m hugging you, but I can’t feel you hugging back. Pressure is a key thing with hugging; it feels safer that way.”
Rocky trills sadly. “Apologies.”
Grace shakes his head again, but this time it’s paired with a weak, sincere smile. “It’s not your fault. Just sucks that our biologies are so different. I bet you’d give really good hugs without this thing in the way.” Grace knocks twice on the ball, emphasizing the distance between them.
Rocky chitters, though there’s something contemplative about his tone now - an inquisitive warble rumbling through the plates atop his body. He leans away from Grace, his back legs thumping against the casing of his ball as he thinks. “Rocky has idea.”
“Yeah?” Grace lets his arms fall away, desperately ignoring the loss they feel as the warmth disappears from them. There was no need to be clingy. It wasn’t exactly like the hug was helping him in the long run. It was like putting a sticky plaster over a gaping chest wound and calling it a day.
Rocky trills again, more full-bodied. Determined. “Yes. Need to begin work now. Will show Grace when ready.” Rocky is practically buzzing. An eagerness tugging at his limbs as he fidgets in place, itching to start whatever ‘mystery project’ he’s begun cooking up.
“...You gonna tell me what your idea is?”
The alien gives Grace his version of a thumbs up and happily chirps, “No.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days.
Rocky has been working nonstop for two days.
To make it even more peculiar, he hasn’t allowed Grace anywhere near him as he crafts. Any time Grace sets foot in the lab, he gets hissed at. Forget Eridans being extraterrestrial lifeforms of complex intelligence. That sentient stone spider is a cat in disguise. Grace has it on good authority that the little guy practically purrs whenever he’s smug or has done something clever. There was simply no other way to describe the happy trills rumbling from his body.
So, Grace has been forced to amuse himself with other things on the Hail Mary, as his only companion is acting like a kid fresh into puberty and staying in his room to play video games. Fortunately, Stratt had been generous enough to provide enough stimuli aboard the ship to keep the passengers entertained while they slowly died in an eternal abyss of stars.
Unfortunately, he could only consume so many episodes of Star Trek in total silence before he felt an oncoming existential crisis about watching a space show in space.
Thankfully, just as he’s considering going into the lab and risking being cursed out in Eridian, a series of clunks from multiple legs echo through the ship. Only… it didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the hamster tunnels running throughout the vessel. Nor was the clunking dulled slightly by a xenonite ball following the demands of five limbs.
It sounds clearer. Closer. Concerningly faster than the ball as well.
Grace drops the Comfort Quilt™ from his shoulders and scrambles up from his crossed leg position. He doesn’t even know what he’s bracing for, but what greets him when it stomps into view is not what he’d been expecting in the slightest.
Rocky is encased in xenonite. Not a ball. His body is literally wearing such close-fitting xenonite that it follows every crevice, bump, and grain on his form.
“Hi, Grace!” He chirrups, sounding utterly exhilarated as he holds up a claw and splits it into the famous Vulcan greeting from Star Trek. “Surprise!”
Thank god Grace put down his mug of coffee before preparing for a potential ambush, or the inventory would be down a cup. His jaw has long hit the floor in place of ceramic shards, eyebrows high as if pulled by a passing moon’s gravity. “You’re- you made a suit,” he sputters out.
“So Rocky can fix starvation of skin!” Rocky bounces and wiggles in place, the thin xenonite moving with him flexibly. He eagerly reaches out with his two front limbs. “Can hug properly now!”
Grace stares. His ears heard it, but his brain could not comprehend the development. That being said, his heart definitely could, and it felt full enough to burst.
He practically dives for Rocky and slams his full weight into him, knees colliding heavily with the floor. Rocky’s three back limbs counterbalance instantly, and the other two wrap tightly around his human. His claws grip into the fabric of Grace’s cardigan and stay there, keeping the man close against his body heat.
After months of being on the ship - technically years, but Grace didn’t count the coma for his own mental health - with absolutely no physical contact from another being bar a ball of xenonite, this hug was everything.
It was tight, yet not enough for Grace’s deprived body. Every nerve was screaming from overwhelming warmth and pressure, but the idea of letting go only made Grace grip harder. He barely acknowledges he’s sobbing into the top of Rocky’s carapace; he’s too preoccupied trying to convince himself he isn’t dreaming.
Rocky stays put, soft notes humming out of him in a gentle, soothing coo. He’s seen Grace cry before - that man had earned the title of ‘Leaky Space Blob’ after all - but this is different. It’s relief, it’s despair, it's everything the man has been silently yearning for in the depths of his subconscious.
Rocky is more than content to stay where he was with Grace practically smothering him from his doubled-over position, all his strings cut and emotions raw. He would stay put for as long as Grace needs. He lifts one of his limbs from the floor and runs it through Grace’s hair.
He pretends he doesn’t hear the high-pitched, wounded keening that leaves the human in a cathartic, emotional release.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“How did you do this?” Grace asks. “This looks too thin- heck, it feels too thin to be safe for you.”
Rocky chitters, pleased. “Much trials and errors,” he says. “Important. Needed to make.”
Grace tightens his arms around Rocky for a moment before letting him go again. Well, kind of let him go, Rocky is lying over Grace’s legs with the man’s arms draped over his limbs. Yes, he was being a little clingy, but his entire nervous system was recovering from months of neglect. He needs this.
“It means a lot,” he swallows back tears that threaten to have another revolution and overthrow his ability to see. He’s already shed enough to fill a water bottle or two.
They’d moved to the dormitory once Grace felt reasonably steady to become a functioning human being again. (For those curious, it took a decent while for that to happen.) Now, he’s lying on his back atop the bedclothes with an Eridian carefully perched on his lower body as a steady source of contact. It seemed the small alien was enjoying the newfound freedom of touch without a ball getting in the way.
One of Grace’s hands is being diligently studied by the Eridian. “Humans soft.” Rocky remarks, something like awe filtering through his musical tones as he delicately handles Grace’s fingers. “Too easy to damage.”
Grace snorts. “We can’t all be sentient canon balls, Rock.”
“What is ‘canon ball’, question?”
“Projectiles we have on Earth. It was used in battle.”
“Rocky is terrifying space spider and dangerous ball, question?”
Grace thinks of when Rocky first barged into the Hail Mary and proceeded to almost cause irreparable property damage to multiple items and devices within the ship. “Yes.” He states with a laugh. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
Rocky perks up. “Good reputation to have!” He prods at Grace’s fingers. “Better than leaky, squishy, space blob.” He pokes at the softer skin of the man’s side to further drive his point home.
Grace yips, batting Rocky’s claws away from his torso instinctively. “Hehey!”
Rocky jolts upright, removing himself from Grace’s legs. “Hurt? Grace hurt? Rocky hurt Grace?!” His voice flits up several octaves as he panics, hands tightly curled against his body to keep them far from his friend.
“No. No, no, you didn’t- hey, come back here, you silly goose. Stop freaking out.” Grace grasps one of Rocky’s retreating limbs and gently tugs him forward with an exasperated chuckle.
Rocky hesitantly steps closer, but doesn’t settle back down. Grace’s legs mourn the loss of their weighted blanket. “Grace make hurt noise,” he states. “Make same sound when burnt with solder iron.”
Grace sighs and sinks deeper into his mattress. He didn’t think this would be a topic he’d have to explain to aliens, but here we are.
“Humans have a pretty complex nervous system that has evolved to alert us when we’re in danger, specifically through touch. When you poked me, my body was telling me something was digging into a place where vital organs sit. The noise I made was just a byproduct of that.”
Rocky considers this explanation, then makes a confused warble. “You laughed afterwards.”
Damn. Grace had been hoping Rocky didn’t catch that.
“...Yeah.”
“Why, question?”
“...It’s a human thing.”
“Explain. Grace live on Erid in future, need to know human biology.”
Well, no dodging the question now.
Grace sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It just tickled a bit, that’s all.”
“No understand word.”
Double damn.
“...Tickling is when humans are touched in a certain way that makes us laugh. It’s attached to the nervous system thing, part of our fight or flight response.”
Rocky tilts his carapace and extends a claw to wiggle against Grace’s side again. The small squeak Grace lets out causes heat to flush his ears. Rocky chirps, delighted. “This make laughter on command!”
Grace opens his mouth to parry that point, only to gasp and fall into bouts of snickers when Rocky’s claws start prodding at his stomach insistently with both claws. “R-Rohohocky!”
It’s been years, even more than he’s been on the Hail Mary, since he’s felt this sensation. The scuttling, electric sparks spread through his nerves, causing him to flail helplessly. His hands scrabble to both grab onto and bat away Rocky’s curious limbs. Neither tactic got him very far.
“Grace sound very happy,” Rocky informs him. Thank you, Rocky. We’d be lost without your keen observation skills. “Are all humans this sensitive?”
Grace makes a strangled, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat and tries to yank his legs up so he can curl into a ball and hide.
“No, stay stationary. Rocky is not done exploring this.” Rocky’s claws grab onto Grace’s knees to simply push them away, only for Grace to yelp and kick his legs out.
“Nononono- Rohohocky c’mohohon!”
Rocky chirps, curiosity singing through his melodic voice. “Tickles happen all over, question?” He inquires, his back hand squeezing Grace’s knee and thigh twice in place of stomping.
“ROHOHOCK!” The hearty cackles that sprang forth like an exploded fire hydrant were answer enough.
Rocky scuttles and prods over the muscular limbs, little chirps of excitement emanating from the depths of his carapace with every new noise he draws from Grace. Scratching at the underside of the human's knees produced a series of breathy, unstoppable giggles that vividly reminded Rocky of the young Eridians back home with newly developed squeaks perpetrating their vocal cords.
Rocky relays that thought to Grace, and the temperature of the human’s face increased dramatically.
“Grace embarrassed, question? Sound cute.” Rocky reassures, wiggling his claws into Grace's lower abdomen.
A flustered noise left the man, quickly buried behind his arms as he wriggled incessantly from the tickling. “E-Enohohough wihihith- my knees!” He pleads, the feather-light wisps of touch sending his brain into a haywire state of laughter.
“That okay, plenty more to try!”
Grace feels pressure firmly lay across his legs, keeping them still despite their instinctive desire to kick. Rocky has become essentially deadweight, using his higher body mass to easily pin Grace to the bed. At first, his heartbeat kicked up in learned fear from being pinned down amongst dead grass, but the gentle touches and familiar warmth of the Eridian dashes his anxiety instantly.
It was kind of hard to focus on the last memory of being pinned whilst Rocky's two front claws had taken to prodding all over the man’s torso. Light and experimental pinches being tossed in just for curiosity's sake.
“Grace should have informed Rocky of this sooner, could’ve cheered you up easily,” Rocky says, mirth filling his voice as he takes in Grace’s blinding grin, flushed cheeks, and bubbling laughter. He made sure to keep his touch light, not wanting to accidentally hurt his friend; however, in doing so, the tickling was simply more unbearable.
And as much as Grace's touch-starved body is relishing in this newfound, sorely missed companionship, it’s tiring quickly.
“R-Rohohock! Plehehease! No- Nohoho mohohore!” Grace wheezes out a laugh before slumping back into the rumpled bedclothes, all fight disappearing and leaving him in a puddle of giggles.
Rocky chirps, withdrawing his claws from Grace’s stomach. “This hurts, question?” He stomps his back foot into the mattress to punctuate his concern.
“No, not at all.” Grace drapes an arm over his eyes and takes in grateful gulps of air, the last of his laughter shaking his chest. “Just overwhelming, bud. It’s been a long time.”
“But Grace is okay, question?”
The hollowness is gone. Grace’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He feels good. “Yeah.” The scientist reassures. “Better than okay. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while.”
“Want me to do again, question?”
Grace’s arm that’s draped over his eyes shoots down to preemptively cover his stomach, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. “Uh- no, no, that kind of touch is usually for play. Kinda wanting to get some rest now, Rock.”
Rocky chirps, leaning a bit more into Grace’s chest, akin to a weighted blanket. He wraps his claws underneath Grace in a hug, while one reaches up to scratch through his hair. Grace practically melts, a blissful sigh heaving Rocky up and then down in a slump.
“Better, question?”
“Yeh, feels n’ce,” Grace slurs out, eyelids long since closed, and wrapping his arms over Rocky’s warm, xenonite-enclosed form. It was like hugging a hot water bottle made of glass. Sleep was sneaking around the corner with a bat and a trip to Night Night Station.
A claw slips down his scalp, scraping close to the skin of his ear. Grace flinches with a small grunt. The claw pauses.
“Grace is serious? Here as well, question?” The amusement is abundantly obvious.
“Shut up,” Grace grumbles, gently taking Rocky’s front limb and guiding it back to his hair.
Rocky chuckles. “Humans are very endearing. Will be doing this again, statement."
Grace rolls his eyes, trying to pretend there wasn’t a blush practically living on his ears now. Rocky let him dodge answering that. After all, he plans to use this newfound information to keep Grace’s spirits up. There would be plenty of time to prove to his friend that humans were loveable space blobs.
“You sleep, I watch.” He murmurs, carefully scratching the man’s scalp in rhythmic patterns.
Grace’s fingers intertwine with Rocky’s and squeeze. “Thanks, Rocky. …And thank you for fixing this. You’re a miracle worker.”
“Will always fix for Grace. Grace family, statement.”
Grace squeezes a bit tighter, hoping Rocky understands the love being projected through the gesture. He pretends his voice isn’t choked up as he whispers, “You’re my family too. Statement.”
The rumblings of the Hail Mary almost match the lyrical purrs emitting from Rocky, sending Grace into the deepest sleep he’s had since being aboard. Safe. Protected. Loved.