Work Text:
Eridian clothing was... strange.
It was familiar enough to be automatically recognizable as clothes, but just off enough that trying to work with them was extremely difficult.
Grace figured that fashion designers and seamstresses would be able to figure it out, eventually. It might even be a fun challenge.
But unfortunately Grace's skill began and ended at mending small rips and tears in his sweaters and jeans. Especially his work clothes--working with kids, even bigger kids--made rips an inevitability.
Right now, Grace was attempting to mend a large sized rip on the collar of... a shirt? At least he thought it was a shirt. It had a large opening for the bottom half of the carapace and smaller sleeve openings for each of Rocky's limbs. The problem Grace was facing was that this tear was such that it had also partially ripped a seam on one of the sleeves, and he couldn't figure out how to sew the tear back without making either the collar or sleeve opening too small. He had already had to rip out his stitches multiple times in shame.
Grave grumbled under his breath as he undid his work for the fifth time. "What was I thinking... Oh yes, Rocky, of course I can mend your clothes. Oh, it's no problem, I solved the astrophage problem, I can do something like this easy peasy--OW!"
He stabbed himself with the needle.
"Grace is in pain? Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy..." Rocky cooed patronizingly as he rolled over to Grace's workspace. "Would Grace like Rocky to take over?"
Grace, sucking his thumb, nodded pathetically. "Yes, please..."