Archive of Our Own

Of course they planned to watch every film ever made on their trip to Erid, but they weren't watching in any particular order.

They started with movies Grace already knew. So far they'd gone through all the Rocky movies (a big hit) and all the Creed movies (same). They had watched A League of Their Own and Jurassic Park and Cool Hand Luke, and they were flipping back and forth between decades and genres more by whatever fancy took Grace than by anything resembling logic. Movie night was an art, not a science.

So, what with one thing and another, it was about three months into their journey by the time Rocky and Grace got around to watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

Like every other movie night so far, it was an education.

"What mean?" Rocky asked, when Jessica and Marvin Acme were playing patty-cake together. Out of frame, Jessica was moaning, and on the screen Eddie Valiant looked scandalized.

"Uh," Grace said, rubbing a hand over his face. So far, he had explained cattle calls, Walt Disney Studios, Looney Toons, slapstick, Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp minor, the phrase 'they work for peanuts', cable cars, rabbits, elephants, private investigators, and the physics of Jessica Rabbit's, ahem, attributes. "It's a metaphor for sex."

"Oh, understand," Rocky said, his vents settling.

A few seconds later, the scene changed to Roger, looking at the pictures Valiant took. They were of two fully-dressed people, a cartoon woman in a strapless vamp getup and a bald man in a plaid suit, and they were touching their fingertips together and smiling.

Rocky did his squeaky-hinge confusion sound and waved an arm. "Untrue. No understand. This is not like description of sex from thinking machine."

Grace burst out laughing before he could stop himself, his ears feeling hot. "No, it's really not, pal," he said. "That's the joke."

"Oh, okay," Rocky said. He sounded deeply skeptical. "Jessica Rabbit look like she is having fun, at least."

Rocky had started doing this thing recently where he tried to sound out human words that didn't have an Eridian translation, instead of picking something close and letting Grace plug it into the translation software. He couldn't make consonants, and vowels were only sort of in his wheelhouse, so Jessica Rabbit came out sounding like EH-ee-ah AH-ih, but low and fuzzy like a blown-out kicker amp. Grace had to use a lot of context clues. It was painfully adorable.

"Well, maybe. She did say she had a headache," Grace said. Gosh, the number of nights he'd wished he could use that excuse.

On the screen, Roger had stopped making a flipbook out of the pictures and was sobbing into his bow tie. It's okay, Grace wanted to tell him. It's not all it's cracked up to be anyway.

"Although honestly," Grace said, before he'd realized he was having the thought at all. Rocky was just so easy to talk to, was the thing. He bit his tongue.

Rocky made a chirping, curious sound and rocked toward him.

Grace hesitated, and then decided, what the heck. "I was gonna say, those pictures look more exciting than some sex I've had."

What that said about Grace's sex life, well. Rocky would tell him, he supposed.

Rocky hummed, and Grace braced himself. Then Rocky said, "Apology that you can't play patty-cake with Jessica Rabbit instead."

Grace laughed, tension easing out of his shoulders.

It had been silly to worry, of course. What would Rocky have even judged him for? That he found sex boring sometimes? His best friend, the big pile of space rocks who had to look up human sex in the dictionary — that's who Grace had been worried about? Come on. "I appreciate that, but I'm really okay," he said.

"Yes, Grace good always. But still sorry," Rocky said.

"Thanks, buddy," Grace said, touched. "Apology to you too. You must be missing Eridian patty-cake like crazy."

"Hmm, yes, Rocky miss," Rocky said without any embarrassment at all. "Long time. Forty-six Earth years."

Grace nodded, and then frowned. "Wait, but you were at Tau Ceti for forty-six years. You've been gone from Erid for —" he stopped.

Rocky swayed a little back and forth, his version of a nod. "Yes, been away fifty-one Earth years, longer for Erid with time dilation. Rocky had sex friend on ship."

Grace stared. That was — okay. "Huh," he said. He felt for a second, foolishly, crazily, like he'd lost something.

"Crew picked for, need word," Rocky was saying. "Believed it would be easy to make friendships."

"Compatibility," Grace said on autopilot. On the screen, Roger had taken a drink of whiskey and was shrieking like a steam engine.

"Yes," Rocky said. "Erid wanted the best for trip, but also wanted crew to work best together. Crew met all crew family, like each other, think have good future."

"That's nice," Grace said faintly.

Rocky shuffled a little, and then said, "It worked. Captain on crew had ♬♪♩♫ ceremony with First Engineer one Earth year into trip. Rocky had sex friend, started making sex together with Adrian and ship friend before left Erid, got very close on trip." He paused, and then said, quietly, "Was going to ask if friend could join Rocky and Adrian family, when home."

Oh, oh no. Oh, god.

"I'm so sorry," Grace said.

Rocky sagged a little, and then seemed to shake himself. "Was a long time ago."

"A very long time ago." Grace would have gone crazy. Heck, he'd been alone on Mary for only a few weeks and he had crashed out hard. This was — Rocky had lost so much more than Grace could imagine. Grace rubbed his face. "I didn't know."

Rocky said, "Some things we have not talked about."

Grace laughed softly, his heart aching. "Yeah. Forty-six years." It hit him in a way it hadn't before, when he had learned the basics of Rocky's time at Tau Ceti. "You know that's longer than I've been alive? Well, no, technically it's been longer with the time dilation, but thinking of myself as forty-nine is too, uh," Grace trailed off. Next to him, Rocky had gone very still. "Rocky?"

"Grace how old, question?"

So it turned out there were a few things they hadn't talked about yet.

"Mary, pause movie," Grace said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of Rocky clonking his ball around angrily and shouting.

Rocky was saying, "Stupid Earth! Why you send ♪♫♩♬♩ infant into space, question? Yes? Earth have explanation? No adult humans smart enough, you send ♪♪♫♪ child to Tau Ceti to ♫♬♩ die?"

"They can't hear you, pal," Grace said, wincing a little at the volume, and the language. Whenever Rocky actually used pronouns you knew stuff was getting real. "And I'm not an infant, I used to pay my taxes and everything."

"I know Earth can't ♪♫♩♬♩ hear me," Rocky said. Grace had never heard him truly angry before. He sounded like a whistling tea kettle. And he was still using pronouns and swearing, uh oh. "Or they would explain why it was acceptable to sacrifice a child."

"Okay, but I'm not a child, is what I'm trying to tell you," Grace said, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he'd known they were going to have this many revelations all slammed together, he would have brought some water. Maybe they'd wait a little while before the next movie night. "I'm halfway through the human lifespan, I'm a full adult."

Rocky stopped rolling around, and turned what Grace thought of as the everyday side of his carapace toward him. He hunched in on himself, tilting his elbows inward like he did when he was upset. "Humans only live eighty years, question?" Rocky asked, tentative.

Oh, dear.

Grace reached out a hand, and Rocky rolled toward him until they could touch their fingers to the xenonite together. "Yeah, Rock," he said quietly. "That's the average."

"And Grace is halfway through average lifespan," Rocky said.

"Yeah."

"So Rocky Grace not have much time."

Forty years was so much more than he'd thought he was going to get. From where he was sitting it was pretty dang great. But from Rocky's perspective, it must have felt like bonding with a stray cat and then finding out that it was already twelve. "Yeah, buddy. I'm sorry."

Rocky was quiet for a minute, and then he shook himself and stood up higher. "No sorry," he said. "Rocky just need to change plans."

What?

"Uh, what?" Grace asked. He really needed some water. And maybe a nap.

"Nothing," Rocky said, suddenly brisk. "We watch movie." And he deliberately turned his everyday side back to his haptic monitor.

"Rocky," Grace said, and then gave up. It was probably better for them anyway, to let things settle. "Okay, sharing time is over, I guess. Mary, resume movie."

But later, after Grace had explained mobsters, probate court, shave-and-a-haircut, turpentine, why a baby smoking a cigar was supposed to be funny, cigars in general, taxi cabs, freeways, and the concept of systemic corruption as a foundation of noir cinema — after the credits had rolled and Rocky had gotten out a xenonite knitting project and Grace had slept and woken up bleary and a little hungover from all the emotions —

Later, he would really regret that he hadn't pushed just a little bit more.

—

Rocky was squirrelly for days after, although it took Grace a while to notice. In his defense, he was coming to terms with some things about his friend.

Not that there was anything wrong with the fact that Eridians were, apparently, the free love hippie, Bay Area polycule types. He'd known a ton of people who were, back on Earth. It had given him a moment of vertigo to realize that Rocky was like that, but whatever, space was weird, the smell of oranges gave him vertigo now. It didn't mean anything. Rocky could be any kind of type he wanted to be. And Rocky had lost friends on that ship, dear friends, and a, a fiancé, maybe, and —

There was a lot, was all.

And Grace had projects, too. Stratt had packed a case of Plumpy'Nut packets along with the other food on the ship — for fun, maybe? In case finding the secret to Astrophage took way longer than expected? Anyway, Grace was seeing if he could extract the vitamins from it as stable compounds, so he could supplement whatever diet they cooked up for him on Erid without overdosing on RUTF and destroying his digestive system.

It would have been easy (easy-ish. Easier) if he'd had a good supply of hydrochloric acid, or more enzymes, or a nitrogen generator. It also would have been easier if he wasn't trying to extract ascorbic acid and thiamine from the same sample — the first of which broke down in heat, and the second of which needed heat to release — but he needed to amuse himself for the next five years somehow.

So it took Grace a little while to notice that Rocky was muttering to himself from the direction of the Don't Go Crazy Room.

"What's that, bud?" Grace asked, when he realized that the quiet harmonica sounds drifting through the lab were real, and not his brain trying to distract him from his seventh abject failure in a row. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing!" Rocky said quickly. "Private!"

"O-kay," Grace said. Rocky used to have a sex friend, his brain blithely reminded him. He took the reminder and shoved it in a box, and imagined throwing that box out the airlock. "Well, just let me know if you need anything."

"Yes yes thank," Rocky said.

So that was weird.

The second thing Grace noticed was that, when Rocky wasn't busy trying not to go crazy, he was underfoot in his ball. Like, all the time.

"Okay!" Grace said, the third time he'd gotten up from his stool, turned, and barked his shin on the ball he hadn't noticed was right next to him. "I think we need to have a conversation about personal space again."

"What need?" Rocky asked. "Rocky can't spend time with Grace friend?"

"Well," Grace stepped around the ball. Rocky started rolling after him. "There's spending time and then there's spending time, you know?"

"No understand," Rocky said, almost catching Grace's heel with the ball. He tried to follow Grace into the lab's cramped little bathroom, and made a sound like someone running tinfoil over a cheese grater when Grace shut the divider in his not-face.

So that was also weird.

The other thing Rocky started doing was — well.

"Grace like Who Framed Roger Rabbit, question?" Rocky asked Grace, just as he was waking up, the third morning after That Movie Night.

Grace groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I like it fine." He yawned.

"How much? Grace like Jessica Rabbit, want romance with woman in slinky dress, question?"

"What?" Grace asked. He tried to get off his bunk and got tangled in the blanket. Ugh. Maybe he could program Armando to give him a shot of caffeine before he woke up in the morning. "She's not really my type."

"Grace like story of interspecies beloved friendship, question?"

Grace tried to lever himself up sideways, and his arm nearly slipped. Double ugh. "Rocky, it's too early for this." Then the question really sank in, and he squinted up at Rocky, in the tunnel above him. "I didn't put the word 'interspecies' into the translation software," he accused. He definitely hadn't put the word 'beloved' in there, either.

"Rocky put," Rocky said dismissively. "Answer question. Grace find meaning in Roger Eddie Valiant friendship, question?"

"How did you —? You know what, never mind." His brain was finally coming online. "Yeah, I think it's really sweet."

"Good good good," Rocky said, clicking his claws. "What preferred first friend date for Roger Rabbit and Eddie Valiant, question?"

Grace stared. Rocky sat there in his hamster run, suddenly inscrutable. Faces were overrated, sure, but every once in a while Grace wished that Rocky had one, if only so he could read it and figure out what the heck was going on. After a second, Grace said, "Nope. No. Coffee first."

"But Rocky have many more questions," Rocky said, following through his tunnels.

"Ugh," Grace said.

So: squirrelly.

He tried not to think about it, though. Partly because every time he did, his brain screamed, sex friend! Fifty years of loneliness! You'll be dead before he reaches middle age! And all sorts of other helpful things. Instead, he kept his head down, and worked on his vitamins.

—

His vitamin C had degraded before he could get it into stable suspension again, for the tenth time that week but who was counting, when Rocky rolled up to him in the lab and asked, "We do movie night, question?"

"Thank goodness," Grace said. He tipped his head back and leaned so far away from the table that he almost fell backwards off the stool. "Why did humans evolve like this? Who doesn't make ascorbic acid on their own? The worst apes in existence, that's who."

"Very foolish design," Rocky agreed. "Movie night now please thank."

"What, now?" Grace asked. Rocky started herding him by bonking the ball very gently and relentlessly into the side of his leg. "Let me refrigerate this at least."

"Hurry hurry, showtime," Rocky said.

Well, technically he didn't need to refrigerate it.

Grace, who had seen Rocky go into paroxysms of joy over everything from concert movies to xenonite models of Earth's solar system, let himself be herded out of the lab. "The entertainment industry on Erid must be booming," he said.

Rocky didn't answer. He trundled his ball over to the tunnel airlock and popped inside. Grace grabbed the sling Rocky had created so that he could cart the ball around the ship for his friend, slipped the ball into it, and started climbing.

"Do you want to go back to that Top 100 list we were looking at before?" Grace asked, slightly out of breath, while he was hauling himself plus cargo up the ladder. Maybe they could watch something a little less fraught than last time, like Dunkirk.

He dropped the ball at the airlock by the top of the ladder, and settled himself on the edge of the viewing platform. After a couple of seconds and a ker-thunk, Rocky trundled the ball over and rested near his shin. "No, Rocky make movie," Rocky said. "We watch."

"You what?" Grace laughed, delighted. "Is that what you've been doing in here that's so private?"

"Yes, big secret, very important," Rocky said.

"He builds, he makes movies," Grace marveled. "What can't this guy do?"

Rocky put his claw to the xenonite, fingers splayed out, and Grace put his own hand up to meet it. Tap tap. "Can not eat in public," Rocky said.

"Come on, show me your masterpiece," Grace said, feeling helplessly charmed. "What's it about?"

"Is proposal," Rocky said.

"Oh yeah?" Grace smiled. He stretched his arms up, reaching until his spine popped. Maybe taking a break from his experiments was the right call after all. "Sounds exciting. What are you proposing?"

"Propose Grace Rocky get married," Rocky said.

Grace twitched violently, fell sideways off the viewing platform, and banged his elbow hard into DGCR screen six.

—

"No broken bone," Rocky muttered, while Armando fussed over Grace's arm. "Apology for surprise."

Grace lifted his face from his free hand. "Well that's something," he said. Grace Rocky get married, his brain reminded him. He told it to shut up. "I'm gonna need you to break this down for me, pal."

"What need break down?" Rocky asked, waving a couple of his arms. "Rocky make art project for proposal, big gesture, Grace will find very meaningful."

He would find it something. Grace rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, it's the 'proposal' part I'm stuck on."

Rocky made an angry buzzer sound and whacked two of his fists together. "Simple. Grace have short time alive, plus all of Erid will adore star savior. Rocky need to move fast to lock that down."

"Who taught you that?" Grace wheezed. He regretted ever explaining colloquialisms. He regretted a lot of things.

Rocky said, "Ignoring you. Answer question, what need to break down? Best idea for Rocky and Grace to get married, be together —"

"Oh my god," Grace said. "Rocky, you're already married. Remember? A hundred eighty-six point three years together is not enough?" He felt a headache building behind his left eye.

"Eddie Valiant already married," Rocky said, pointing up toward the DGCR. "Not stop him and Dolores from walking off into the sunset with Roger and Jessica Rabbit."

"That's," Grace said, and waved his free arm wildly. Armando whirred at him. "First of all, I don't think Eddie and Dolores were married —"

"Mistake," Rocky said. "Dolores find better detective, leave Eddie Valiant."

"And second," Grace said, "yes, okay, they —" He winced, and lost steam. "They did all walk off into the sunset together, didn't they?"

Movie night had been a mistake.

Rocky hummed, sounding smug. "Rocky correct."

"Okay, no," Grace pointed at him. "Maybe you're right on a technicality, but it wasn't like that."

Rocky whistled, and leaned forward so far that his ball almost rolled over Grace's foot. "You were there, question? You followed Roger Rabbit and beloved friend Eddie Valiant after movie ended, question?"

Grace put his face in his hand again. Next to him, Armando finished wrapping up his elbow, and once his other hand was free he covered his face with that one too.

"Rocky correct," Rocky said. "Grace say assumptions make a word that Grace will not teach out of Grace and Rocky."

Grace had the wild urge to laugh and cry at the same time. "I just didn't realize you wanted all of that with, uh, with me. The white picket fence and everything. Do Eridians have fences?"

"No understand," Rocky said. "Rocky want marriage, not color-new word-second new word."

"Never mind," Grace said. There was that sense of loss again, the one from the last movie night. I thought you were like me, it said, but that didn't make any sense. Grace didn't want Rocky to be anything other than what he was. Just because Rocky wanted Grace to change —

"Rocky finish big gesture," Rocky said. "Grace and Rocky go back to movie room, watch Rocky proposal. Grace will see."

Grace shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, and said, "I don't think that's such a good idea right now. I have a headache."

Rocky screeched like a jammed dot matrix printer. "Like Jessica Rabbit with Marvin Acme? Unfair. Rocky not asking for patty-cake, asking for marriage."

Oh, jeez. The worst part was — well, the worst part was all of it. But on top of everything else Grace wasn't sure if Rocky meant the children's game or the euphemism.

"You can't just ask a guy to get married like that," Grace told his hands, despairing.

"Can ask. Will ask. Grace cranky, being unfair, give stupid arguments. Must be tired. Sleep now."

"Thank you," Grace said, taking the out like an abject coward. He was so relieved he felt like he was filled with helium.

By the time he had changed into sleep pants and brushed his teeth with some of his precious remaining store of gel toothpaste, Rocky was out of the ball and in his habitrail, buzzing quietly to himself. He perked up as Grace came out of the little bathroom, and did his little inverted spider thing, hanging by two arms from the ceiling. Grace lay down, and he crept closer, moving with that slow elegance that had captivated Grace before they'd ever learned each other's names, until he was right overhead. He started up a low hum, his version of a lullaby.

Grace was tired and achy and baffled by the whole day, and he might need to break his best friend's heart tomorrow, but for the moment he felt perfectly safe and cared for. Maybe, he thought against all reason and evidence, maybe by tomorrow Rocky would have forgotten the whole thing. He fell into sleep like falling down a gravity well.

—

Rocky hadn't forgotten by morning. Grace woke up to the underside of his carapace, and the sound of him saying, "Grace watch proposal now, question?"

Grace groaned, and covered his face with the blanket. "I don't want to watch the proposal," he said, wishing he could drift off again.

"Why not, question?" Rocky sounded cranky, and when Grace popped his head out of the blanket, Rocky flipped upside-down so that Grace could see his vents settling and resettling.

Because I can't be what you want, he thought, and bit the side of his tongue, hard. "Because I need some time, bud," is what came out instead. "Asking somebody to marry you is a big deal."

Rocky whistled. "Rocky know is big deal, that's why Rocky ask." His body language was getting more frustrated.

"This is just so sudden," Grace said.

Rocky flipped sideways, so the everyday side of him was facing Grace. He wiggled three of his arms in an exasperated dance. "Not saying decide now, saying watch proposal now."

Grace said, "I need time to decide to watch it." Then he heard what he had just said and cringed.

Rocky wheezed furiously. "Acceptable," he said. There was a particular tone he got when he was being bitingly sarcastic, that Grace was very familiar with. He grimaced as Rocky said, "Grace not dying soon, have all the time in the world, can take years to decide if he wants to get information to make a decision."

"Hey," Grace said, frowning. That was uncalled-for.

"Acceptable! Acceptable!" Rocky said, and scrambled away through his tunnels. After a few minutes, Grace heard the sound of Clocks starting up from the cockpit.

Rocky's musical tastes were somewhere between eclectic and off-putting. He loved J Dilla and Bang on a Can All-Stars and modernist composers and Angolan hip hop and opera, and anything with a weird time signature. All great things, but he had Mary make up playlists that mashed them all together in a way that gave Grace the jeebies. Today was his least-favorite playlist, the one Rocky had specifically sworn not to play "unless very necessary, promise, statement." It was made entirely of Schoenberg and Coldplay.

Oh, yeah. Grace was in trouble, trouble, trouble.

—

Grace couldn't concentrate enough to go back to his Plumpy'Nut.

Instead, he started tidying, first in the bedroom and then moving up through the ship and into the lab. Rocky was nowhere to be found while Grace picked up what felt like an endless supply of food wrappers, socks, pens, beakers, tools and plant soil. For a ship the size of a San Francisco townhouse and filled with fewer supplies than he had in his dorm in undergrad, there was always a surprising amount of mess.

His headache was back, a steady throb behind his eyes, and he kept remembering the translator software saying, 'Grace Rocky get married' over and over. He didn't want to think about it. He wouldn't think about it. He'd figure out something else to think about any minute now.

It was just. What did Rocky mean? He couldn't want another mate. Did he want another sex friend? They weren't even the same species. He could hear Grace's digestive system, like all the time. There was no way.

And besides, Grace thought, picking up a mustard bottle and staring at it. Besides, what kind of sex could they even have? Assuming that Grace wanted to, which — he tried to think about it and felt like he had slammed into DGCR panel six again, except with his whole brain.

So he didn't want to. Okay.

Not that he was opposed to sex. Generally. In theory. It was just that in practice it had always felt like it was happening to someone else. That was fine when it was Linda, or the hookups he'd had in college, but Rocky was a part of him. Rocky was the person he cared about most in all the wide and wonderful vastness of space, and he couldn't stand the thought of doing something so impersonal with someone so important.

He didn't want that. He just wanted things to go back to normal.

The playlist ticked over to a piece he had never heard before. It sounded like a deranged church choir.

"Mary, what is this?" Grace asked.

"This piece is Einziger, ewiger, allgegenwärtiger from Arnold Schoenberg's opera, Moses und Aron," Mary's computer voice answered.

"Ah," Grace said.

After a moment, Mary said, "Crewmember Rocky would like me to inform you that this opera is considered one of Schoenberg's least accessible works."

"Ah," Grace said again.

Things were not going back to normal.

—

Rocky was annoyed all morning. Grace knew that because he kept up the modernist opera, and several times he came to whatever room Grace was tidying and chittered at him.

"Why not listen, question?" Rocky asked, and Grace didn't have a response.

He tried. He tried thinking about the proposal (!) and what he might answer (!!), and kept slamming into the same mental brick wall. Just — proposal, marriage, nothing, over and over again.

After three hours, Grace hadn't come to any kind of conclusion. He had developed a grudging respect for atonal modernist opera and was feeling very salty about it. He had also picked up: eighteen handfuls of loose Skittles, three open packets of ramen with the noodles and powder sachets still intact (why), four rolls of duct tape, a flathead screwdriver, seven containers of xenonite enzyme that had somehow migrated from Rocky's section of the ship to his, eleven whiteboard pens, one coffee cup, four dirty socks and three clean ones, Ilyukhina's pink silk robe, approximately twenty-five meters of EVA rope, one carabiner, and an unopened bottle of hot sauce that he hadn't known was in the manifest. When he found that he nearly cried.

"I'm going to call you Dottie," he told it softly. "We're going to do such great things together."

He was still staring at the hot sauce and trying not to get even more emotional, when Rocky crept into the lab. He whipped his hands behind his back.

"Hey, pal," Grace said, supremely normal. Nobody was mad at anybody, nobody was crying over hot sauce. And certainly nobody had asked anybody to marry them.

Rocky buzzed quietly, and hunched in on himself. "Mary, pause opera," he said, almost timid. In the sudden quiet, Grace heard the sound of anxious echolocation pings.

Uh oh. Grace put Dottie in his pocket. "Hey, is, uh. Is everything…?" He trailed off, unsure. Obviously everything was not okay.

"Not have to watch movie if answer is no. Grace clean pilot room, question?" Rocky asked, and oh. Oh no.

Rocky didn't sound annoyed anymore. Rocky sounded sad. Grace was the worst person who had ever lived. "Rocky, pal —"

"Is fine," Rocky said, and it absolutely was not fine. "Rocky tired of opera, enjoying ship not covered in garbage."

"Hey," Grace said, but his heart wasn't in it. Rocky sounded sad, sad, sad, and it was because of Grace.

Rocky said, "Grace clean pilot room, request."

Grace opened his mouth, and then he shook his head, and then he nodded. "Yeah, buddy," he said gently. "Let me go do that right now."

Grave grabbed a whiteboard and a marker, and then he left the best friend he'd ever had sitting sad and alone, which was his fault because he wasn't brave enough to think about his feelings for one minute without trying to hide. Well, not again, he decided grimly, and marched himself up to the cockpit, threw himself into a chair, and stared out the window at the stars.

"Pilot detected," Mary said.

Grace ignored her. Think, he told himself. This was just a math problem. Heart plus marriage proposal equals terror — why? He wrote down:

What is wrong with you?

Isn't he your friend?

Don't you love him?

Don't you love him?

Do you love him or not?

That was easy. Yes, Grace loved him. Grace had never loved a single living soul the way he loved that bossy, judgmental, brave, funny, brilliant alien rock. So why couldn't he stand the idea that Rocky might love him back?

Well. When he stopped running away from himself, that was an easy question to answer, too.

"Shirts," Grace said. He put the whiteboard on the floor so he could bury his face in his hands.

—

Grace didn't know how long he sat there, his thoughts swirling, but it felt like a long time before he heard the sound of stone on xenonite. He whipped his head up as Rocky came into the cockpit through his tunnel. They stared at each other for a minute — or as much as a faceless chunk of rock could stare.

Rocky said, "Pilot room still messy."

Grace blurted, "How would that even work? Marriage?"

Rocky tilted his carapace to the side, looking for all the world like a bird cocking its head in confusion, and then said, "Rocky not know."

"You don't know?" Grace asked. "You're the one who wants to ask me. How can you not know?"

"Rocky never been married to Grace before," Rocky said, sounding defensive. "Not know what kind of marriage we build together."

"That's —" Grace started, and sagged. "Okay, that's a really good point." Then he rallied, pointing a finger. "But you have a better idea than I do. Only one of us has been married for over a century."

Rocky made a derisive honking noise. For a guy who was basically a walking pipe organ, he could sound astonishingly bratty. "That different. Rocky and Adrian mates."

Grace grabbed a fistful of the hair at the top of his head. "Yeah," he said, trying to stay calm, "and you're asking me to be your mate."

Rocky reared back like he'd been shocked. "Not asking. Rocky didn't ask be mates. Rocky asked get married."

Oh, for the love of — "It's the same thing!" Grace said, throwing his hands up. His left one whacked into the xenonite tunnel and he yelped.

Rocky didn't answer.

He was quiet so long that Grace turned to look at him, sore hand forgotten. He seemed frozen in place.

Uh. "Isn't it?" Grace asked.

"Mates is romance, make eggs together," Rocky said slowly. "Marriage is rights and obligations. Family. Legally recognized."

"What, and you just marry anyone you're friends with so they can inherit your stuff?" Grace scoffed.

"Yes!" Rocky said.

The word buzzed up his spine and made him shake. "That's — what?" Grace asked. "No. What?"

Rocky just stood there, looking deeply unimpressed.

"What about," Grace felt like someone had taken the floor away while he was standing on it. "What about your, uh, fiancé, your sex friend?"

Rocky made his version of a shrug. "Was not asking for sex friend. But could try if Grace wanted." The casual way he said it gave Grace so much information about the kind of freaks Eridians were.

"No, that's okay," Grace choked out.

"Then not sex friend," Rocky said, decisive. "Only best friend."

He didn't seem to be getting it. Grace made himself say, "On Earth, marriage is a romance, raise kids together thing. Do you want that with me?"

That was it, really. The thing Grace had been running away from this whole time. Because Rocky was the best part of Grace, and Grace loved him, but he didn't love Rocky like that. Like champagne and fireworks, or flowers and chocolate. Like ripped clothes on the way to the bedroom, or whatever Eridians ripped instead of clothes. And it didn't matter if you loved someone first and best and always, if you couldn't love them the way they wanted you to.

Grace had just, stupidly, thought that he and Rocky wanted to be loved the same way.

Grace swallowed. He had to say it. Rocky had been so brave, and honest; Grace couldn't do anything less. He told Rocky, quietly, "I don't think I've ever really wanted a mate, even when I had one. I don't think I'm built like that."

Rocky froze again, and Grace thought, This is it. This is the moment you lose him.

Then Rocky stretched himself to his full height, looking like a spider that just got electrocuted, and said, "Rocky not stupid."

"... Oh," Grace said.

"Grace think Rocky not met him before?"

"Look," Grace started, and then he said, "No, nope, not important," and tried to corral his racing thoughts. Every screaming fight he'd ever had with Linda, about the grand romance he couldn't give her, was playing on a loop in the back of his mind. "Just, you have to be honest with me. Is that enough?"

"Yes," Rocky said.

"You answered that real fast, buddy," Grace pointed out.

Rocky made his frustrated tinfoil-on-cheese grater sound. "Have already thought about this."

"Okay, well, I haven't," Grace said, crossing his arms. "Just, explain it to me. Please."

Rocky was quiet for a while. He clicked his claws together, and tilted his carapace like he was trying to get a better view of Grace. It was such a Rocky thing that Grace felt himself settling, relaxing a little. Whatever happened next, he'd said the hardest thing, and Rocky was still here. He breathed out, and waited.

After a minute, Rocky said, "Grace never ask, with forty-six years on ship, why Rocky did not make progress studying Astrophage."

"Weird swerve, but okay," Grace said. To be honest, he had been pretty distracted at the time, what with getting to know his new alien friend and needing to fix the sun and all. And also, "It would have been kind of rude."

Rocky made a skeptical blep noise. "Rocky would ask."

Grace smiled helplessly. "Yeah, I know you would."

Rocky said, "Crew have Astrophage sampler on outside of ship on trip to Tau Ceti. Sampler broke off."

"It broke off?" Grace asked, his eyebrows flying up.

Rocky twisted two of his claws together. "Crew not know why. Think, we make new sampler when get to Tau Ceti. Then crew get sick. By the time ship get to Tau Ceti, Rocky alone."

Oh, no. Grace held himself very still.

"No crew," Rocky said. "No friends, no sampler, no hope. Rocky try to build new Astrophage sampler. Not work. Build, not work. Sleep alone and sleep alone and sleep alone. And then Grace."

"No," Grace shook his head. "Don't do that, I can't live up to that."

"Yes," Rocky said. He stomped his foot. "Let me give speech! Grace asked! Speech very important in big talk about feelings."

Grace let out a huff of laughter, and felt himself settle a bit more. "It is very important," he agreed. "I didn't know you had a speech."

Rocky grumbled a little. "Already had plan. I make plan, you interrupt plan. Fine to not watch proposal, fine to interrupt speech, okay to stop Rocky in the middle like rude human on cell phone in movies."

Grace smiled. "Okay, I promise I won't interrupt again. Come on. Tell me."

Rocky said, "Fine fine fine, accept Grace promise. Speech goes: Grace run away."

Grace opened his mouth to argue, and Rocky stomped a foot again. Grace closed his mouth.

"Grace run away," Rocky said. "Grace go out into the Empty on stupid space walk to catch message canister. Grace take off helmet in tunnel when we have no shared language, because of trust. Grace make Rocky language on thinking machine. Grace risk life to get predator collector, Grace make Taumoeba, Grace give up Earth, Grace turn around," his whistle was emphatic, and he pointed a claw at Grace through the xenonite. "Crew have hope, but Grace give hope to Rocky. Grace love Rocky, yes?"

Grace covered his mouth with his hands. "Yes," he said, muffled and a little teary. "Yeah. I, I love you."

"Then Grace does not need to be anything else," Rocky said. "Not need to change feelings, not need romance. This is already the best thing."

Grace looked at Rocky: his dearest friend, the best person he had ever met. Rocky, who had been traveling to meet him since before he was born.

Rocky said, "You ask how marriage would work. Marriage work like this. Rocky Grace save stars together, fly home together, watch human movie stories together, make science together. Grace make space for Rocky on ship, Rocky make home for Grace on Erid. Have big party, sign documents, everyone on Erid know we are closest friends for your whole short human life. And after, for the rest of Rocky life, Grace still most beloved friend."

"Oh my god," Grace said, curling up in the pilot's chair like a pillbug. He felt a little bit like he was about to have a heart attack. "Rocky, give a guy some warning before you say things like that."

"Like what, question?"

"You know what," Grace said, flapping his hand in a circle. He nearly whacked the xenonite again. "The — beloved friend thing, the rest of your life thing."

"Why, question? So Grace can ignore? During big speech? No."

"I'm not ignoring it now," Grace said. "God. Okay, okay." He breathed, and then forced himself to uncurl and sit up. "So we just — sign a paper saying we're bros for life? That's it?" Insane. Wonderful. What would Erid come up with next?

Rocky waved his arms, like 'eh, sorta'. He said, "And make easier to build bio-dome for Grace, repair Grace ship for travel back to Earth." While Grace was reeling from that, he said, "And tax breaks. And Grace can inherit from Rocky Adrian if something bad happen. Maybe Grace help raise eggs."

"What?"

"If want! If want!" Rocky said hurriedly, as if whether Grace wanted to help raise Rocky's kids was the limiting factor here. "On Erid, seventy-two different kind of marriage contract. Only twenty-three are for romance, eighteen more for sex friend. The rest for this. We find one that feels right, we modify."

So, okay. Okay. He wasn't touching the kid thing yet, because his head might actually explode. But the rest of it sounded. Crazy. Magical. Maybe even workable.

"What if Adrian doesn't like me?" Grace asked.

Rocky said, "Will like. But if not, Adrian does not have to marry. Erid has contract for that too."

Huh. "I don't think I was expecting life in space to have that much paperwork," Grace said. But it did take the terrifying unknown out of some things.

Then all that was left was the terrifying known.

"What if," Grace swallowed. He made himself ask, "What if you change your mind?"

At that, Rocky made an indignant brrzz sound. "Stop asking stupid questions."

"It's not stupid. No, listen. People get sick of me," Grace said. "Give it like five years and you'll be begging me to go away."

"Humans get sick, maybe," Rocky said. "Humans stupid, obviously."

"Rocky."

Rocky sagged a little. "If Rocky get sick, which Rocky will not, then sign more documents to separate."

Grace supposed it made sense if they could get friend-married that they could get friend-divorced. The possibility that Rocky wouldn't be stuck with him forever if he didn't want to be was oddly comforting.

The possibility that Rocky would want him around forever was not comforting. The feeling it gave him was so much bigger, and wilder, and lovelier than just comfort.

Rocky said, "All of this is in movie, which Grace did not watch. Is okay, Rocky make big gesture anyway, show Grace much affection."

"You showed me so much affection," Grace assured him.

"Yes, Rocky best friend. Grace need time to think about proposal. Maybe we watch AH uh OO-ee-uh movie tonight, talk about vitamin project instead."

Grace squinted, and after a second realized that Rocky meant the Fast and Furious movies. He was the best person Grace would ever meet in his entire life.

And Grace and Rocky could build anything they put their minds to. They had built a shared language. They'd built a shared habitat. They had built the tools that saved two stars. They could build a life together, and it could look like anything they wanted. So what if Rocky wanted to call it marriage? What Grace wanted, more than anything, was his friend. They'd make it work.

"I have a better idea," Grace said. "Why don't you show me your proposal instead?"

Rocky made a delighted little static fuzz noise that Grace had never heard before, but immediately felt hungry to hear again. "Words of excitement! Grace watch, Grace have to say yes."

Grace started laughing. He felt like he was on a spacewalk, staring out at a bright beautiful future that he could reach out and touch.

Rocky said, "Rocky very talented, find Grace science education video on YouTube, Grace very good with pebbles, Rocky make into proposal —"

"What?" Grace asked, the smile dropping off his face.

"Grace teach children about autoclave," Rocky said, and began scrambling toward the handholds that would take him down to the DGCR. "Science Story Hour special video. Very cute. Rocky have best future contractually obligated beloved friend. Put in movie to show why Rocky love Grace most."

"Okay, Marissa said she never posted that," Grace said, tumbling out of the pilot's chair after him. "Can we maybe take that out of the proposal?"

He didn't remember much about it, just that he had almost caught his finger in the autoclave, and that his recitation off the teleprompter had sounded more robotic than Rocky's translation software. And that he had named the autoclave Otto. How had he never gotten teased about this by his students? How did Rocky find it?

Rocky, halfway through the cockpit hatch, poked one arm up. "But how will Grace know why Rocky wants to be family without example?"

Grace tripped over the whiteboard, sending the marker flying. "You just gave me a speech, remember? It was a really great one." He tried to pick up the whiteboard, dropped it, and gave up. "I'm pretty sure I know why you want to contractually-obligated-beloved-friend me."

Rocky tapped one claw against the tunnel wall for a second, and then said, "No, still have video. Come, I show."

Oh, no. "Rocky, hey," Grace said, but Rocky had disappeared down through the hatch, and he was alone in the cockpit again.

Grace took a moment to catch his breath. Marriage. Gosh.

Well, contractually obligated beloved friendship, but still. What a day.

Grace looked around his home, at the panels, the buttons, the lights. He looked out the window at the stars. Never in a million years could he have imagined this life. But it was his now, and it was turning into something wonderful.

"Grace come watch!" Rocky called from further down the ladder. "Rocky talented genius, Grace will see."

Grace smiled, his heart full. "Yeah, okay," he said.