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Stop Making This Hurt - The Bleachers
[Grace clean lab or Rocky set it on fire, statement.]
“Fiiiiiiine,” Grace groaned, spinning in his chair, trying to summon motivation. Who wanted to clean when they could be doing science instead? Then it hit him, and he leaned over to snag his laptop. “My end of the year playlist!”
[End of year… what?]
“I had to clean out my classroom each summer,” Grace said, scrolling through endless playlists from Yao and Ilyukhina until he got to his own subfolder. “So I made a playlist with a bunch of songs to like, shred old exams to. Songs for taking down posters and scraping off tape. It’s a big pain in the butt, by the way, but the community center used our school for stuff in the summer months, when school was out. So I had to clean it alllllll out on the last day of school, or my admin would yell at me.”
Rocky gasped. [Grace… knows how to clean? All this time? Big shock, had no idea. No evidence here for cleaning skills.]
“Ha ha, very funny. I mean, I know how to tidy. To, uh. Make things look clean.” Mostly he put things in vaguely organized piles and tried to reduce tripping hazards. Cover it with some poster paper labeled ‘Do Not Touch.’ Presto, cleano. “You don’t want to know what my teaching desk looked like.”
[Do want to know. Oh. What. What is this?]
“My cleaning tunes,” Grace said, standing and stretching, popping his back in a way that always made Rocky hiss in distaste. “Gotta be high energy, make me wanna dance, you get it? Always did the same songs every year.”
[Rocky like this.]
The familiar run to the chorus started up, and Grace felt his lame, white boy dance urges kindle, his shoulders reflexively bopping up and down. He was a terrible representative of his species, but Rocky already knew that anyway.
Rocky mimicked his swaying. Cute. Grace shimmied across the lab, gathering trash and tossing it to the waste container.
“Say goodbye like you mean it,” he crooned along to a cracked test tube. “2 3 4 5, oh god we barely survived.” Hip swivel, slide all the crumbs off the counter, horn solooooo.
[What song is about, question?]
Grace rocked up to the xenonite ball, goofy as hell and not caring. “I don’t know! It’s my cleaning song! I don’t know why, it just always made me feel like dancing around and doing stuff.”
Rocky trilled long and thoughtful, then said. [Reminds me of us.]
Grace blinked, groove thing temporarily paused. “Oh?”
[Yes. Said goodbye, but not like we mean it. Barely survived.]
“Huh,” Grace said, and went back to mopping up the spilled taumeoba water. “...that’s. Yeah, you’re right.” Weird to think his cleaning the class playlist could feel like it had waited, all these years, across space and time, to strike a chord with his alien roommate now.
I wanna run from the darkness, wanna shout at the light, the singer belted out. Familiar words that hit differently all of a sudden. That felt - yeah, that felt weirdly resonant.
“Think it’s just coincidence, bud,” Grace said, and missed a rim shot on the make-shift trashcan again. “Shoot. But, uh, yeah. Human music isn’t literal, sometimes it’s just a vibe, a feeling, and sometimes it’s literal, but the literal meaning isn’t what sticks with you.”
[Mm,] Rocky hummed thoughtfully, then seemed to register the windfall of crumpled paper on the floor. [Grace supposed to be cleaning, not making more mess,] he scolded.
“Well, make me a lab-cleaning robot if it bothers you so much,” Grace said, but obediently moonwalked over to get the wet paper towels scattered by the trashcan. Whatever, Rocky didn’t know what a moonwalk was anyway. Grace had time to perfect it eventually. Probably.
[Why Grace walk like joints malfunction, question. Grace call this dancing?]
“Why you gotta be so harsh,” Grace said, and moved on.
[Grace talk to self again? Why say so many letters over and over …oh. Oh no no no, Grace having stroke?? Grace dying???]
“Just got a song stuck in my head, pal,” Grace yelled back, muffled by wires and baffling.
But Rocky sounded genuinely distressed, and in fairness, Grace’s leaky meat-based body did malfunction pretty often. It was a lot for an alien with survivor guilt to handle, so Grace pulled his head out of Mary’s equivalent to a HVAC system and waved at Rocky reassuringly.
[...Grace having stroke.] Rocky had already left his ducts and gotten into his ball, clunking his way over. [Need Armando. Need blood thinning medication.]
“Noooo, what I need is the dang cooling system back online. Hey, can you take a look at this manual again? I swear it’s upside down in there.”
Rocky aimed his light converter at the binder for less than a second, and said, voice deeply unimpressed, [Grace looking at opposite side of ship. This Grace’s left, that right.]
….yep. Yep, that was definitely true.
“Cool cool cool. Or not, as the case may be.” He retreated in ignominy back to the depths of Mary’s paneling. “When are you, uh, gonna get that mobile suit ready? I ask, unrelated to my current task which is very unsuited to my skillset of breeding microbial lifeforms and saving star systems.”
[Would be sooner if Grace not act like brain damaged and scare Rocky out of workshop. What mean, song stuck in head? Brain tissue trap soundwaves now?]
“Noooo, not literally stuck,” Grace called out, struggling to make the angle of the socket wrench, the bolt keeping the circuitry safe from his grasp, and his elbow joint all align correctly. “Happens to all humans, sometimes with worse songs than others. Anyway, I’m hot, this song is about hot stuff, and the lyrics keep looping in my head, so I wound up singing along. I’ll probably stop eventually. Is it bothering you?”
[No,] Rocky said slowly. [No, is different from Eridian singing, but not bad. Just strange.]
“Well, Chappell does a better job with it than me, maybe we should just listen to her. Mary, can you play Hot To Go?”
“Certainly, Dr. Grace.”
“There’s,” Grace grunted, bopping his head as he squirmed the panel off. Hah, take that, mechanical doohickey! “An advantage to teaching middle school, I heard all the new songs the kids were groovin’ to. Kept me hip. With it. This song has a cool little dance that comes with it, too.”
[Grace show dance when done, request.]
“Heck yeah,” Grace said, humming along and drumming his feet to the beat. “Just gimme a few more minutes. Jeez, I’m sweating like a pig in church. Mmm mmm mmm, I made it so you’d sleep with meeee, it’s like a hundred ninety nine degreeees.”
Eventually there was a satisfying thunk, whir, and Rocky’s voice, shouting: [Success success success! Job good, Grace!]
Grace felt a flush of warmth, either pride or heatstroke, but hey, the AC was back on, so it’d be gone soon.
[Human songs very confusing,] Rocky said as Grace emerged from the paneling, sweaty and disheveled and triumphant. [Hot to go where?]
“Hah, uh, well, this song is from the perspective of someone, uh, trying to convince another person to be their mate. Very common human musical genre, to be honest. Hey Mary, loop the song again. Time for me to teach this alien some sweet moves.”
[It’s on, baby,] Rocky said, giving him a thumbs up (actually down).
It was fun. Getting some cardio in, dancing it out. Rocky was surprisingly tolerant of how sweaty (leaky leaky leaky) Grace was, even as the cooling system kicked back on.
[Grace dancing very bad, going to concuss self again] Rocky laughed, but whatever, he was just jealous he couldn’t body roll the way this school teacher could.
“It’s in the hips, Rocky, the hips!”
[Rocky not have hips. Grace hips look very nice, though. Do roll again. Snap and touch toes. Yes good!]
They weren’t going to win any awards for dignity on the Hail Mary, but Grace was feeling pretty dang good about it all anyway.
[Rocky still not understand what ‘hot to go’ mean. Hot temperatures trigger human reproduction?]
“Nooo, it’s, uh.” Oh shoot, Rocky was going to hate this. “It’s actually a reference towards take-away foods. Foods you get from a restaurant and take home.”
[Humans perverse,] Rocky sighed, resigned, but continued tapping his claws to the beat, long after the song had stopped and Grace was lying on the floor, enjoying the coolness of the tiles.
“Hah! It’s stuck in your head now too!”
[Human idiocy contagious,] Rocky grumbled. [Song relatable in many ways. Rocky like human music. Chappell Roan frustrated no one touch in one hot minute. Rocky relate. No one touch Rocky in many decades.]
“Hey, we kind of touched, uh. That time you almost… burned to death, and…”
Left a giant scar on my arm in the shape of your hand, Grace didn’t say. And wait, was Rocky saying he was sexually frustrated? Was that what Rocky was saying right now? Oh gosh.
Luckily, Rocky just gave him a look, which didn’t involve eyes, it involved all his upper joints between his legs and carapace rippling disdainfully.
[That not count,] was all he said.
Grace tucked the whole incident away to not ever think about again, because he was not thinking about his roommate, sexual frustration, body rolls, or touching ever again. He’d been in college, he’d had roommates. He knew what way madness lay, and he was turning the opposite direction.
Rocky kept humming the chorus, though.
Which made it a little hard to stop thinking about.
Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat - Andrew Lloyd Weber
Grace had been too stressed for most of the preliminary journey on the Hail Mary for a lot of his old Earth habits to take root. But now that they were on the way to Erid, he was finding his way back into a routine.
Previous partners had not been fans of this one Grace habit, but Rocky was just going to have to deal. Usually Grace took his ‘showers’ (read: glorified spongebaths) while Rocky was sleeping, but after spending several hours cleaning air filters (gunked up with mercury residue somehow, which Grace was NOT thinking about too hard lest he start getting overly emotional), Grace really needed, both medically and emotionally, to clean off all the sweat.
“There’s a whisper down the line, at eleven thirty-nine,” he murmured, getting the washcloth wet. By the time he got to soaping his toes, he was full-out bellowing. Mary had cranked the Jellicle Ball backing track, and Grace was shaking his groove thang while sudsing his hair. Surprisingly, the half-open door didn’t bother him the way it would have on Earth. The bathroom cubicle was way too small for comfort, and it wasn’t like he had steam to keep in. Or like Rocky couldn’t hear through the thin door, or his day to day clothes.
So, yeah. Modesty, schmodesty! His previous partners had jokingly called him a ‘never nude,’ which was inaccurate. Grace was totally fine taking off his clothes if the room was dark. And he usually took his shirt off at the beach, if it was really hot. But honestly, there was nothing like the vacuum of space to make you not give a dang about letting it all hang out.
If Rocky didn’t like his naked body and musical stylings, he could go to the cockpit (as far away as possible on the ship) and ask Mary to play rain sounds.
But Rocky, so far, had not done so.
So Grace was mostly not paying attention to the alien in the corner of the dormitory. Rocky honestly seemed a little shell-shocked, tapping frantically away at one of the panels of his xenonite habitrail.
Well, if he wanted a show, Grace would give him one.
Eventually, Grace concluded his ablutions and started toweling himself dry. Dang, he missed hot showers. Rocky had assured him that on Erid, Grace would have all the bathroom accoutrements he’d ever wanted. Rocky would engineer it all. Jets, sauna, marble fountains, the works.
But Erid was pretty far away, and Grace had to find joy where he could get it.
Sometimes? That joy came along with lightly trolling his alien roommate.
[Grace… very loud,] Rocky commented finally, voice an octave higher than normal. [Grace… very loud yelling about Earth small predator companions on a train while cleaning self. Is… normal? Is fine?]
“Excuse you,” Grace said, offended, and tugged his Bay Bridge shirt over his head before hopping into a pair of briefs. Rocky let loose a chaotic stack of notes before seeming to gather his chords back into order. “That was not yelling. That was singing.”
[Singing about… cat, while cleaning surface of body, is Earth-normal behavior, question?] Rocky stomped twice, offensively dubious.
“Is Grace-normal behavior, statement,” Grace said, and flung the damp towel at Rocky’s not-face.
[Do not understand vibes of cat song,] Rocky said plaintively, and followed Grace’s meandering path towards the systems corridor, scuttling along the vents. [Cat is pet, but cat also manages Earth transportation system?]
“Oh ho ho, you’ve activated my trap card,” Grace said, and cackled melodramatically while doing the standard system checks. Navigation, still on course. Fuel tanks, appropriate temperature. Hull pressure, normal. Death, not imminent. Swell!
“Okay!” he clapped, and felt a helpless surge of happiness when Rocky gamely clapped back with him. “To the Don’t Go Crazy Room!” He let his glasses slide down his nose and looked at Rocky over the top of them, summoning the appropriate gravitas. “Time to introduce you to the one, the only. The greatest to ever do it. Andrew. Lloyd. Weber.”
Rocky rolled with Grace’s ridiculousness, hustling to the airlock and clambering into his spaceball.
[...Andrew Lloyd Weber is cat, question?]
“In his soul, maybe. Biologically, no. He’s as human as me. The cats are both metaphors, and also, real cats. Look, just lean into it, you’re going to be confused, that’s part of the experience.”
Stratt stealing a copy of the entire internet also meant that, with a bit of careful searching, Grace also had a copy of every Broadway bootleg ever illicitly filmed. Grace figured the original Broadway was where to start, and then they could delve into the delightful subversion of the Jellicle Ball. Then, and only then, would he watch Rocky’s crystalline brain shatter upon the cliffs of insanity that was the movie version.
Maybe, if he was feeling really diabolical, he’d introduce Starlight Express. Space was big and the journey to Erid was long, and Grace and Rocky had to make their own fun, okay? What could be more fun than trolling your bestie Clockwork Orange-style with your favorite Earth genre, musical theater?
Rocky’s stunned silence and wordless gestures conveyed ‘what the frick’ perfectly, spanning the lightyears between their species with ease.
After the first few songs, he requested a pause to go fetch his laptop, and spent most of the first act tapping away.
[Humans insane,] was his conclusion. [Animal cat not behave like this.]
“It’s art,” Grace said, patting the ball and reveling in the sudden stretch of freetime he had to watch every musical ever stored on the internet. “Art doesn’t have to make sense, it’s all about the--”
[Grace not say vibes,] Rocky stated, gently ramming against his foot and jabbing a claw at him menacingly.
Grace mimed zipping his lips, then wriggled excitedly. “Oh, oh, this song always makes me cry.”
[Everything make Grace cry,] Rocky said, bumping him again, and but then fell silent as Betty Buckley’s voice rang through the room, filling their little space between the stars. By the end of the song, Rocky’s carapace may have been as dry as Grace’s was wet, but he was definitely doing whatever the Eridian version of tearing up was, gently shivering and making soft, stuttery clicks.
Grace hit pause and turned expectantly to Rocky. “Well?” he asked, voice thick and phlegmy.
Rocky clicked quietly for a moment, working his hands, then bobbed his carapace.
[Cats Musical not make sense, but Rocky… Rocky admire. Humans crazy but big big big talent. Beautiful sounds, big feelings. Rocky - Rocky not understand Grizzabella experience, but knows this feeling. Lonely, only memories. Painful to hear, but good to hear. Amaze amaze amaze.]
Sometimes, Grace was forced to reckon with the fact that Rocky had been alone so long. Nothing but memories, and an empty ship, and an impossible task. He scooched over and wrapped an arm around the xenonite, and felt Rocky’s body settle against his, a hot thrumming presence.
“Yeah,” Grace said, wiping at his damp cheeks. “Yeah, music can be - a good way, to feel your feelings. It can also be a good way to distract yourself, if you want to stop thinking. You want to lean into the feelings, or stop thinking about them, bud?”
[Want finish Cats. Hear who go to Heaviside Layer in upper atmosphere.]
“It’s not actually - okay, nevermind, put a pin in that. We continue!”
[We continue!] Rocky cheered, and settled in against him with a sound very, very like a purr.
…anyway, they ended up watching all three versions of Cats, and had penned into their schedule a bi-weekly Broadway bootleg showing.
And it turned out Rocky didn’t mind Grace singing in the shower. In fact, now that he knew most of the songs, he sometimes joined in, harmonizing in minor and major keys.
Funny how it took going to space to find something Grace had never known he was missing.
Grace’s Workout Playlist:
Stronger - Kelly Clarkson / Mr. Brightside - The Killers / Lady Gaga - Poker Face / Stacy’s Mom - Fountains of Wayne / Two Ladies - Cabaret
[Disgust disgust disgust, why Grace so leaky, question?]
“Same thing you do when you blow air out your vents, pal,” Grace gasped, and fumbled around for a water pouch. “Thermoregulation.”
[Ohhh, understand. Liquid absorbs metabolic heat, converts to gas.] Rocky got it immediately. He was so dang smart.
“Evaporative cooling, yep. And now I gotta rehydrate.” Water spilled over Grace’s chin, down his throat as he pounded the liquid, too thirsty to go slow.
Grace had never been a guy that worked out. He wasn’t used to the burn of lactic acid building up as his muscles shifted to anaerobic respiration. And exercising was boring, gosh darn it. There were reasons he’d never bought into the gym bro routine, okay?
Sure, he had washboard abs for the first time in his life. But, to be really real? Between the two of them, Rocky was definitely the beefcake. Grace was a wet piece of spaghetti in comparison. If anyone needed to defy gravity and reach a vital switch, for example, well. Obviously Grace hadn’t managed it. So what was the point in buffing his strength stats when he already had an engineering tank right there?
And it’s not like Rocky would ever swoon over Grace’s abs. The guy might be clicking away in interest right now, but that was probably just fascination with Grace’s weird noodly endoskeleton. So, no point to exercising like this if aesthetics was the goal.
There was no one to appreciate the results, and never would be. And yet, Grace still had to sweat and flop around miserably.
Ironically, if he’d been heading back to Earth, no sweat would have been necessary! The 1.5g of acceleration he experienced on the regular would have kept his bone density and muscular mass up to snuff for Earth’s gravity easy. Wandering around the ship would be enough of a workout to keep him in muscles.
However, Grace was currently headed somewhere where the gravity was much, much higher than Earth’s. He needed to maintain his current muscle mass, and then some.
Hence, the occasional grumpy attempt to keep his body’s muscles tuned up. Which was soooo boring, even in the vast empty expanse of space. But he’d made this decision to turn around for Rocky, and he was committing to it, gosh darn it.
Even if he freaked hated working out.
[Disgust,] Rocky reiterated as Grace finished stretching and moved into the light jog portion of events, trailing drops of water and sweat in his wake. Rocky followed Grace’s path back and forth along the small space available, skittering along the length of his habitrail.
Grace assumed Rocky was bored of working on his various projects. Either that, or watching Grace suffer was the latest, greatest entertainment on offer. Even odds, honestly.
“Hey, not all of us have steam-powered muscles,” Grace panted enviously. Movement, ugh. He dragged a hand down his damp chest. Sweating suuuuucked. It was an evolutionarily sound adaptation, but it didn’t mean Grace loved doing it. “If I had a body like yours, I wouldn’t be doing all this.”
[Yes, Rocky body much superior to Grace body. More efficient. No leaks like wet wet wet Grace. Rocky more strong, less weak points.]
“Can’t wake up when you sleep, though. Score one for humanity!” Humanity one, Eridians one billion.
[Rude! But true,] Rocky grumbled good-naturedly. [Songs helps Grace exercise electric meat muscles?]
“Huh? Oh, the playlist. Yeah, a lot of people like to listen to music when they exercise! Working out can be kind of boring. Studies show music boosts your energy, makes your muscles work harder.”
Speaking of boring, he should be moving from cardio into sit-ups now. He kind of wished he could ask Rocky to hold down his feet, but Rock probably wouldn’t want to get up close and personal with Grace’s sweat, right?
[Human music have many functions,] Rocky observed, clicking his hands. [Song about stronger helps make muscles stronger?]
“Hah! No, I mean. I am using it for that purpose, but the lyrics aren’t anything to do with muscles. It’s about, um. I don’t know, a bad experience not destroying you. Using it to make you better, stronger, instead. It’s supposed to be inspirational, I guess.”
They listened to the chorus, or, well, Grace tried to over the rush of blood in his ears and his own lungs wheezing for air. Exercising was the worst. Why couldn’t he just put electrodes on to stimulate his tissues and go about his day?
[Grace moving feet too much for up-sit form. I come help.]
“Nooo,” Grace groaned, hoist upon his own petard. “You just want to see me suffer up close!”
But Rocky was already scuttling to his airlock, the click-hiss-whoosh of ammonia transferring hitting Grace like Pavlov’s bell. His whole body perked up at the idea of Rocky closer. Dang, he really was getting touch-starved these days.
Rocky parked his ball right on top of Grace’s Converse. Grace beamed in spite of himself, lacing his hands behind his head.
[Go time,] Rocky said bossily, and Grace tried to ignore how much easier it was to push himself with Rocky right there, a hot weight on his ankle.
[Song interesting. I like.]
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’ll tell Kelly Clarkson… her appeal spans… solar. Systems. Oh my godddd, is it time to stop yet?”
[Computer say: sixty rep each human day, build core muscles, stay strong and healthy for this gravity. Grace complete: nineteen up sits. Need Rocky do math for Grace tiny brain?]
“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Grace said, and resigned himself to Rocky’s sadistic mercy and, also unique lyrical analysis.
[What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger flawed statement,] Rocky said slowly, thoughtfully as Grace suffered and moaned in agony. [Not always accurate. Only sometimes. Sometimes damage increase possibility of future damage.]
“Yeah, buddy, think the song is,” Grace panted. “More about… focusing on the good. Making good, out of bad. Don’t die, live another - day. Make a new - album. That’s - music. Music comes in albums.”
Rocky considered this for a while as Grace flopped up and down like a dying fish.
[Song about real or not real injury? Physical pain?]
“Oh. Oh, uh, more emotional pain, I guess?” Grace gasped out, laying back and staring at the scuffed panels of the ceiling above, where smoke from Rocky’s passage left discolored splotches that Grace had never managed to scrub off. He sat up and saw light warping through Rocky’s xenonite, changed and refracted by the hot ammonia within. Rainbows sparkled at the edges. Grace eased himself back down to the ship’s floor, lactic acid burning with each millimeter. He remembered his face raw against dirt and grass, the aching sky above.
His abdomen ached; his lungs burned. It wasn’t the same.
[Not sure Rocky feel stronger, but. Glad survived. Glad met Grace. Good thing happened after bad thing.]
A whole new leaking had gotten going, a few tears joining the sweat soaking Grace’s temples.
“Very glad,” he agreed, and rolled over to press a damp palm against Rocky’s closest panel. He ignored the little squawk that resulted. “Wouldn’t change a thing. The pain was, uh. Worth it all.”
[Kelly Clarkson stronger, but alone. Grace Rocky better.]
A laugh exploded wetly out of Grace. Jeez, this alien kept sucker-punching him. “Yeah, Kelly wishes she had it so good.”
[Oh, oh, new song now? Fast song! Rocky like.]
“Yeah, this one always makes me go faster,” Grace said, and rubbed the tears out of his eyes, and went back to his stupid exercise routine. “Big club dance song, on Earth. My, uh, age of humans... love it, ghngh. Am I done yet?.”
[Coming out of what cage? Why kissing in cages? How many humans in cage. Song unclear.]
Rocky was messing with Grace; he totally knew by now human songs were mostly vibes and gibberish.
“It’s just pop music,” Grace groaned, although that might have been more because of the dang sit-ups; maintaining his stupid core muscles was torture. “Pop music is… all dumb relationship stuff, okay? Or partying. It’s -- gnnagh. It’s not always my thing, but it’s - high energy. Good for brainless movement. All, bleahh, make body go fast, exercise. Or party.”
[Did not play during our party,] Rocky notes. [Only at thirty-two, stop laying in wet evaporative fluid. Cannot cool and evaporate if blocked from air.] He paused. [Grace need ingest more fluids? Replace fluids lost?]
“Right you are,” Grace said, and crawled to the stack of water pouches. “Anyway, this song is - fricking fudging heck, I might need to tap out at thirty-two. Ouch. This song is, um. About a guy, and his mate, and another guy and the first guy jealous of his mate getting with the new guy. Call it cheating, cheating on each other. Jealousy makes some good music.”
[Mate leave singer for new mate? Rude rude rude. Not ask to join first?]
“Like… all three of them? No, that’s not. Usually how humans do it. Sometimes. Not always. Usually it’s two, two mates. Sometimes two women, sometimes two men. More common one of each.”
[Humans inferior again,] Rocky scoffed. [On Erid, more partner more mate more better, easier care for offspring.]
Well, that was. Good to know.
[Rocky and Adrian considered, hm. Less common. Only two in mate circle.]
“More like a mate line, huh?”
[Grace joke very silly,] Rocky huffed. [Grace have no line or circle. Grace a dot.]
“That is correct,” Grace sighed, and Rocky paused the little dance moves he was doing along to the beat.
[Rocky misspoke. Grace not silly. Grace perfect. Grace deserves all the mate polygons. Rocky hate Mark and Linda. Sorry sorry sorry.]
Oh. Oh no.
“It’s fine,” Grace gasped out, waving a hand. “No, seriously. I had already resigned myself to a shapeless life. And, I mean. Not like… I can date on an alien planet anyway, right?”
There was a weird sound, and Grace looked over to see Rocky making little fists with his claws, scraping against the xenonite floor of his ball.
[Can date. Any Eridian lucky lucky lucky, make line with Grace, add to relationship shape,] Rocky said, voice very low and thrumming. Grace felt it deeper than skin, down into his bones. And he was still clicking, deep in his thorax, something subsonic Grace associated with whales, submarines. [Grace want shape, Grace can have.]
“Don’t know about that,” Grace said, throat thick with something besides the agony of voluntary physical exertion. “I’m pretty weird. All leaky. Floppy. Disgusting, right?”
[...Rocky maybe overstate disgust. Sometimes big disgust, but some leak is… is cute. Delicate, wet, pretty. And Grace smart, funny, kind. Save planet. Could join many mate groups, easy. If Grace want.]
Pretty, delicate, wet. Oh. Those were some words. Frick. Grace blinked sweat out of his eyes, and rolled over, heart thudding suddenly. As though that could hide his body’s reaction from Rocky’s many, many ears. Which were listening to his wet, delicate body. Oh no.
“I don’t know, pal,” he mumbled into floor. “Historically, I’m, uh. Bad at relationships.”
In his defense, he was pretty sure he’d never actually wanted to be in a relationship until now.
It turned out it was hard to keep walls up when you’d already seen each other at your worst, and your best.
[Rocky not observe this. Grace not bad at anything!] Rocky said over the thrumming chorus of a Lady Gaga song. [Oh, except cleaning. And dance, wow Grace bad at dance. Sometimes bad at walk, even. Oh, and math, brain too squish for good math.]
“Okay, no need to keep going,” Grace grumbled.
[And sooo bad at exercise. Need do ten more rise ups.]
“Noooo,” Grace moaned, biting his lip. “Tyrant. Make me.”
Rocky rammed his ankles gently. [Up up up. New song, very energy. Time go. Need strength for Erid, find many mates appreciate Grace’s leaky exercise time.]
“Very funny,” Grace grumbled, but rolled back over and did a few agonizing sit-ups more. Stupid muscles. The music had, ludicrously, transitioned into Stacey’s Mom - how the heck was Mary choosing this stuff? Grace was making his own gym bro playlist next time.
If there was a next time, if he survived this. Currently Grace was ready for the sweet embrace of death and resigned to flopping around Erid like a blobfish.
…but sounded like maybe Eridians were into that, if Grace played his cards right?
Cheese and crackers, he had no cards. He was going to pass out. He hoped Adrian and Rocky liked their humans limp and noodly.
He was getting ahead of himself. Right?
[Grace done exercise now, question? Up up up, must remove excess fluids. Fluids not all evaporate, Grace make too much. Wet wet wet leaky human, how so messy always.]
Grace let himself be bullied down the corridor and into the dormitories, in a daze of limp limbs and buzzing thoughts.
[New song strange,] Rocky commented, swaying outside the shower cubicle.
“Do not,” Grace said, and slung his damp shirt into the Wash This Soon corner. “Do not ask what this song is about, oh my gosh. It’s catchy, but so, so dumb.”
[Is obvious what song about. About song singer wants to action reproduction with parent of Stacey. Brave singer. This not happen on Erid. Or, not often. Would be lots of… need word. Word for everyone talk about.]
“Word is gossip,” Grace said, and oozed his way slowly into the shower cubicle. Rocky was still there. Listening, nearby. Hm. Hm. “Yeah, not too different from Earth. It’s fine to, uhhhhhh, be interested in older individuals. Or multiple individuals. But your friend’s mom? Yeesh.”
[Yeesh on Erid too,] Rocky agreed. [Big gossip. …but gossip annoying. Understand Stacey care, other people not relevant. Grace agree, question?]
“Yeah,” Grace said slowly, and wished he had some sonic spyware himself. Wished he could peer into Rocky’s carapace, hear if his hearts were beating faster. “Guess an alien joining a, uh, mate shape… would cause a lot of gossip too, huh?”
[Gossip not relevant. Rocky not care gossip. What shower song today? Grace take requests, question?]
“I’ve, uh, got a song in mind, actually.”
And maybe Grace wasn’t looking too closely at his own intentions as he started sudsing up a sponge, and told Mary to pull up the Broadway playlist.
It was a little silly, sure. But what the hey. He massaged shampoo into his hair as he crooned out the deedly deedly deedles.
It was a weird feeling, being both excited and zen. Grace had always felt sick to his stomach on Earth, whether making or receiving a tentative overture of interest.
Rocky was different. Turned down or taken up on his offer, it didn’t really matter in the end. Grace trusted Rocky regardless. Rocky might, possibly, be interested in Grace’s weird leaky alien deal. Or maybe he wasn’t! No sweat. Literally, hah. Grace was washing the sweat away, along with his jitters.
Okay, so there was some semi-big sweat about it, but Grace was going for it. He was a new, improved, bold and courageous Grace, obliquely shooting his shot in a totally deniable way if necessary.
“Deedly deedly deee… two aliens,” he sang, scrubbing away. “Deedly deedly dee… and I’m the only human, ja.”
Nailed it.
He trailed off as he let lukewarm water wash the soap away, pooling above the drain, and listened.
He was no Eridian, and the Mary was noisy. The water was still running, Cabaret was still playing, and ship creaked and thrummed with electricity and acceleration.
But under all that? Grace heard it, loud and clear.
Rocky’s clicking was coming in waves, blatant and brassy like a horn line.
Maybe this was what is was like being given a look up and down, on Erid?
Guess he’d find out soon.
…Your move, Rock.
Rocky’s Secret Mixtape
500 Miles - The Proclaimers / Holding Out For A Hero - Bonnie Taylor / I Wanna Hold Your Hand - The Beatles / Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen / Pretty Down To Your Bones - The Hush Sound / Under Pressure - David Bowie & Queen / Matchbox 20 - Push /
Grace came out of the shower nook when the song ended, a towel wrapped around his hips. He raised a squeaky-clean eyebrow at Rocky, waiting.
Rocky stopped his barrage of staticky, buzzing clicks, and the room suddenly seemed weirdly quiet. Then Rocky made a sound startlingly similar to the Looney Tunes roadrunner, like a meep or a beep, and scuttled off, bashing into a wall on his way. He called out over one shoulder as he went:
[Words of excuse, busy busy busy! Back later. Bye, Grace! Grace not follow!]
Okayyyy, then. Results of indirect overture: inconclusive.
Rocky avoided him the rest of the day, working on something mysterious. Whatever it was, Grace didn’t know, but all day long, whenever Grace moseyed casually closer, he heard key-tapping from Rocky’s laptop, and low, almost inaudible human music.
Not bad news, necessarily. Rocky was pretty blunt when something Grace did annoyed him, or when Grace made a cultural faux pas. Rocky didn’t read as annoyed to Grace right now, and Grace felt like he might not have mastered the Eridian language yet, but he was pretty fluent in Rocky.
Rocky’s current emotional vibe, as translated by one Dr. Ryland Grace, local scholar in all things Rock? A heap of awkwardness, combined with a side helping of intense focus.
Grace was trying not to get his hopes up, though. Rocky was also slamming his computer closed whenever he noticed Grace nearby and side-stepping around him in a decidedly uncomfortable, crustacean-like way.
Meanwhile, Grace tried not to panic. What had overtaken him? Was it the post-workout endorphins? The sudden realization that his taken, off-the-table, strange and sexy companion was not actually off the table, was on the table, and maybe open to more on the table?
Grace’s fruitless crush could possibly be reciprocated and it had dislodged something in Grace’s brain. Yeah, maybe that was it.
Jeez, why had Grace chosen Cabaret as a confession, of all things? Schoolhouse Rock was way less historically fraught! Three is a magic number, math was the universal language! Or Patsy Cline had a song about triangles, he was pretty sure - but triangle wasn’t definitely the geometry of whatever shape they’d make, right?
Grace hadn’t even met Adrian yet, but Grace already had second-hand big emotions about their best friend’s mate. Rocky had sculpted Grace a little xenonite Adrian figure, after Grace pushed for it, and made Rocky tell him more. He knew Adrian was tall, and graceful, and elegant, and shy about their height. He knew they didn’t take any of Rocky’s bullpucky, like a sweet unimpressed wall. Definitely something Grace could appreciate.
Mostly, Grace figured, anyone Rocky loved, who loved Rocky - Rocky, who was stubborn and proud and silly and blunt and brilliant and kind - would be easy to love in turn.
But Adrian might hate Grace. Grace was weird, and blobby, and alien, and strange…
No, no, no. Definitely getting ahead of himself. The ball was in Rocky’s court. Rocky would let him down easy, and mock him gently, and it would all be fine. He wasn’t going to spike the ball into Grace’s face and laugh.
In the meantime, Grace tried to lose himself in developing and storing spare soil cultures - nitrogen-fixing bacteria, don’t fail me now! No music notes, no choruses, no second-guessing, just slides and slides and slides of Azotobacter.
Things Grace definitely needed to survive: niacin, and his best friend. Things he didn’t need to survive: polyamorous cuddles and/or alien kisses. Probably.
Luckily, Grace was very used to distracting his brain with small, fiddly prokaryotic tasks; easy to get lost in the agar sauce and ignore his jittery, ill-defined emotions.
Rocky showed up like clockwork around 10pm, Mary Standard Time (MST), and bullied Grace out of the hydroponics lab and towards bed.
Reassuring. Whatever would change between them, or not, they still had each other. Had this. This weirdly easy, fun, playful, profound relationship, impossible to name and entirely unique in the universe.
Grace’s bedtime routine had evolved over the last few years. Each night, Grace turned off Rocky’s English voice-over translation. They had a sleepy conversation about the day’s events, Rocky testing Grace’s understanding of Eridian. Rocky mocked Grace gently until he drifted off beneath a veritable blanket of coos, trills, and hums.
Tonight started off a little awkwardly. Grace had switched off the translator, and neither of them said anything. For at least a light second, there was nothing except Rocky tapping slowly.
Grace blew out a breath upwards, ruffling his bangs, and tapped his fingers on his own crossed arms.
The ship creaked. Armando rumbled quietly, doing some sort of self-maintenance. An air duct whooshed performing some atmospheric pressure equilibrium, a normal background sound that suddenly seemed way too loud. Was it always that loud?
Grace folded.
“Soooo,” he broke the silence, blundering around like a poorly trained astronaut in a highly advanced engine room. “I made it weird. Did I make it weird? Was that too weird for us?”
[No!!!!,] Rocky honked, standing up from his tensed loaf. His next words came out in a confusing slurry, multitonal and layered. [Grace insult Rocky, Grace intelligence low like taumeoba. Too weird impossible, already maximum weird no problems. Grace shut stupid face hole right now. Insult Rocky. Rude rude rude. No faith in Rocky Grace, question? Rude!]
“Okay, okay, jeez,” Grace interrupted the deluge, holding up his hands. “Noted. So. Uh. We’re cool?”
[Grace Rocky always cool,] Rocky vented, carapace rippling furiously, but he loafed back down into a less angular posture. Small win! [But…]
…small yikes.
“...But?”
[Human music very confusing,] Rocky said, peering down at Grace - well, he pointed his carapace in a way that suggested he was focusing his best auricles in Grace’s direction. [Grace… patient, please? Soft request. Rocky research not complete.]
“Sure, bud,” Grace agreed. “But, you know. I’m happy to, uh. Explain anything. Go into detail. I’m kind of a better resource than the computer, re: human culture.”
But maybe not human music, he supposed. Grace had basic millennial white man taste; Rocky could do better. Had done better, Grace was sure. Adrian sounded beautiful, was brilliant and kind and silly and patient, from all Grace had heard.
No no no. Quiet, brain! Now is not the time for the insecurity! You have an alien baddie to romance! Never mind that you’ve never successfully romanced anyone, or successfully been romanced. Every Earth relationship he’d ever had crashed and burned.
[No, thank you,] Rocky demurred with a thoughtful hum. [Want to, mm. Important to accomplish task independently. I will let Grace know when research is complete. Will give answer to question.]
Grace thought he got the gist of that, though he was sure he’d missed a few nuances here and there. And he was pretty sure it meant that Rocky had, at the very least, picked up what Grace had awkwardly put down.
He gave a thumbs down, and felt a warm glow when Rocky shimmied and mirrored the gesture.
He fell asleep to Rocky quietly explaining Eridian musical notation while clinking and tinkering away on some project. Rocky knew by now that Grace wouldn’t retain most of the technical stuff Rocky talked about when he was like this, half-asleep. So it was just - nice. Nice to let it wash over him, half-understood.
He woke up from a dreamless sleep, abs a little sore from the previous day’s efforts. Something had woken him. Something unexpected, and close, and warm, touching him right on his face.
He shrieked, flinging the quilt.
[Hi, Grace,] Rocky said from beneath said quilt, sounding extremely amused. [Rocky finish suit. Big surprise, question?]
“Criminy,” Grace gasped from the floor on the side of the bed, peeking over the side. “You jerk.”
[Grace need improve situational awareness.]
“I was asleep!” Grace threw the pillow he’d been clutching to his chest at Rocky. Then he processed the situation he was supposed to be aware of, gasped, and flung himself after the pillow, wrapping around Rocky’s giggling frame.
“Ohhhhh,” he mumbled, face pressed against Rocky’s vents. He could feel them ripple. The suit was that tight, that close. “Oh, you have a suit. Oh no. I’m in danger.”
[Not in danger, Grace very safe, spent much time stress testing,] Rocky soothed, running a hot clawed hand over Grace’s back. [Wow wow wow, Grace so soft. Delicate little hatchling Grace.]
“Hey, I’m an adult! I work out!” Grace managed to articulate, and attempted to glare at the object of his dumb affections, the being upon whom he’d laid his heart: a massive troll in a shrink-wrapped ammonia space suit. A genius engineer, who had spent all his spare time solving an impossible physics problem just to give the alien he cared for the strange, bizarre tactile style of comfort he craved.
[Grace liiiiike Rocky suit,] Rocky purred, a deeper bass than usual. The rascal sounded downright smug. [Good good good. Okay. Rocky complete suit and also human music research. Grace very silly and brave, use silly song but Rocky understand Grace meaning now. Have made playlist to express Rocky emotions for Grace. No listen to all words, all words not important, only some word. Help express impossible ideas, convey emotions felt. Grace ready?]
Wait. What?
“You made me a mixtape?” Grace squeaked. No one had ever - ever done that for him before. Not in high school, not in college. Never.
[Yes. Grace slow this morning. Grace need coffee first, question?]
“No, no, hit me with it, don’t - don’t make me wait.”
The first chords started, and Grace started immediately leaking, curling up in Rocky’s arms.
[Rocky not man,] Rocky clarified as the song continued. [Thousand miles insignificant, too small distant unit. But song message correct. Feeling correct. Grace feel it too?]
“You know I do,” Grace said, voice wobbling.
Then he had to hide his face behind his hand as the next song started, dramatic piano notes rising. “Rocky! You know I’m not a hero, geez. I told you.”
[Yes, know Grace not want be on mission. Smartest Grace ever been in Grace life.]
Rocky was still holding a massive grudge against Earth; on the plus side, he had quickly become much less agonized and guilty over Grace retiring to Erid, never to see another human again. From his perspective, humans didn’t deserve Grace, if they’d thrown him away so easily. Rocky was going to make Grace a habitat better than Earth or Erid.
Grace hadn’t entirely wanted to dissuade him from his grandiose plans and possibly impossible architectural goals.
It was kind of nice, the idea of getting spoiled.
[Grace still brave. Exactly what Rocky wished for. Desperate, alone. Grace appear. Best day of Rocky life.]
“Not strong or fast, though,” Grace laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
[Yes, song not perfect. Still feel right. Big yearn, hope, need. Grace larger than life! Alien hero comes, save Rocky. Rocky safe at last. Safe with Grace.]
Gosh. That was a real change in perspective, suddenly.
“Yeah, I feel safe with you, too. You’re my hero too, Rock. You know this is, uh. All very sappy, right?”
[Sappy mean…]
“Food metaphor,” Grace admitted, and continued over Rocky’s disgusted honk-squeak. “Means, very very very over the top romantic and complimentary. A reference to sugary syrup, slow moving, sweet.”
[Mm, pleased. This is the goal.]
[Next song,] Rocky announced, letting the music fade. He pulled back and wriggled a little, obviously excited, and Grace turned to face him, tilting his head. Rocky held out a hand as the guitars started, and gosh, Grace’s face hurt from smiling. He wanted to hide under the blanket, feeling too obvious and exposed, but then, Rocky could hear him anywhere, couldn’t he?
[Can hold hand now? Still not man. But can be yours. If want.]
Rocky clicked his three fingers together tentatively, and Grace thought of someone biting their lip, nervous, hopeful.
“I want so bad, Rock,” Grace said, and reached out, slotted their fingers together carefully. “Human hands - did you know, are very sensitive. Lots of, of nerve endings, over a hundred thousand, um. Wow.”
[Yes, is similarity. Eridian hands sensitive, too,] Rocky said, in a low rich voice. The translation software was on, but Grace reveled in hearing Rocky’s real words beneath the electronic ones, the pleased purring notes chirping and trilling.
[This,] Rocky tapped Grace’s cheek with a free claw, gentle but hard enough to feel down to the bone. [This small Eridian kiss. Tap carapace by vents. Human song funny, because for Erid, hand to hand contact is very, hm. Shameless. Pressing hands together in public? Ooh. Scandal. Much gossip, if do where others hear.]
Grace felt his cheek heat. His pulse, already high, ramped up. Every single dendrite in his fingertips felt alight, firing signals, and every signal said kiss kiss kiss kiss. Rocky’s deft fingertips slid against his, then pulled back to trace along his cheek, his jawline.
Grace shivered.
“Well, as you know, I don’t care too much about gossip. Will, would. Uh, Will Adrian mind?”
Articulate as always, Dr. Grace. He thunked his head against Rocky’s carapace.
Rocky laughed at him, shimmying in place. [Adrian nooooo shame, Adrian think gossip big funny. Only shy with Rocky, when I say nice things. Other people, Adrian not care at all. Adrian will like to tease Grace, can tell. Very excited Grace Adrian meet. Grace is interested, question?]
“Yeah, I’m - I’m definitely interested. Nervous, but interested.”
[Good good good,] Rocky cooed.
“So, uh, that was a big deal kiss, huh?” Grace asked, face hot as the xenonite between their fingers. “Like a french kiss for humans, I guess. Is it - do you like it? Am I doing okay?”
The song had transitioned to something vaguely familiar, much more modern. A female singing, with lots of piano. Do you adore, do you adore me, the singer crooned.
Grace felt like the answer to that had to be very obvious.
Rocky took Grace’s hand again, and danced the tips of his claws down from index fingertip to the center of Grace’s palm, circling it there. Yep, he was definitely in danger with Rocky in this suit. Rocky was going to kill him dead, easily.
[Very different kiss experience, with human. Beautiful bones. Pretty delicate, articulations all here in hand. Song of pulse at wrist, blood moves so soft. Beautiful hands. Rocky like like like. What French kiss, question?]
“Ha ha,” Grace laughed, feeling silly and bubbly like champagne, nervous and excited. He stuck out his tongue. Rocky mock-recoiled, before leaning up and touching Grace’s tongue with a single claw. Oh gosh. Grace squeaked and hid behind a hand while Rocky laughed at him.
“French kisses are, um. Lots of tongue, very disgusting to Eridians, I’m sure. It’s, uh. Wet.”
[Rocky not have tongue, is bad? Is problem, question?] Rocky’s claws on the floor were flexing nervously.
“I like you just the way you are,” Grace assured him, and threw caution to the winds, tapping at the thin xenonite over Rocky’s vents. Rocky’s whole body lifted, perking up. Cute. Cute cute cute. “I like this kind of kiss. I never, um. Really enjoyed human kissing on Earth, to be honest.”
Honestly, this was what Grace always thought kissing would be like, back when he was a little kid daydreaming about it. As he’d grown up, kissing had been a huge disappointment. It’d never been as good as those day-dreams, or scenes in books and movies. He’d never gotten the big deal about kissing or sex.
Then this stupid dumb sexy smooth confident rock alien came along. Suddenly Grace got what all the fuss was about, go figure.
[Humans dumb stupid, bad at kissing, bad at take care of Grace. Rocky do better.]
Probably true. Scratch that, definitely true.
[But… maybe…. Grace give Rocky human French kiss one day, question?]
“Wait, do you liiiiike it,” Grace teased, knocking a shoulder into him. “Starting to think disgust isn’t the right word, here, babe.”
[Grace be quiet,] Rocky grumbled. [Missing songs. Listen, Rocky work hard on this. Oh, next song, first part not so good, chorus good. Listen.]
Grace started laughing, and in spite of himself, started pressing human-style kisses all over Rocky’s carapace, getting a shocked whistle and faceful of steamed-up xenonite.
[Kiss! Human kiss!] Rocky squawked, trying to jazzhands while also holding hands. What a dork. Oh no, Grace liked him so much. He felt stupid about it.
“Yeah, I’ll call you maybe,” he laughed, pressing kisses to one of the flailing limbs by his face. “Rock, you goof.”
[Is good song! Is perfect chorus for Grace Rocky. Just met you, is crazy. Is literally hard to look, Rocky does not have eyes. But want Grace number, metaphor.] Rocky jazzhandsed again, then touched Grace’s mouth.
“Pretty sure you already got my number,” Grace mumbled against the hot, inorganic touch. He couldn’t remember everything about his life back on Earth, but he was pretty sure this was better than any human touch he’d ever felt.
[Confession time: Rocky not very good at relationship.]
“Could have fooled me,” Grace said, but noted the anxious claws again, the tensed limbs. Distantly, Grace heard a familiar beat setting up to a perfect song. Queen and Bowie, the original star men. How had Rocky known to pick this for his playlist? How long had he been working on it?
[Rocky is good at solve physical problem, things can hear and touch. Emotions hard. Couldn’t find own words, had to find human songs. Bad.]
“Uh, me too, buddy,” Grace pointed out, but Rocky barrelled on.
[And, and Rocky not attach importance to emotional items sometimes, big days. Earth word, anniversary. Bad at notice. Distract by projects. Get grumpy when interrupt. Then want attention if done, all attention, needy needy needy. Is annoying.]
“I know all that, Rock! I know all that about you. I’m the same, you know that? I - I’m not saying I don’t mind, but. I like that you get grumpy, and focused on your own stuff. I get grumpy all the time.”
[True.]
“Bigger problem is how bossy you are,” Grace teased, and got knocked over for his trouble. But Rocky caught him before he could hit the floor.
[Grace like Rocky bossy,] Rocky huffed.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Grace admitted, and snuggled up.
[Rocky scared all the time,] Rocky confessed into the space between them, kneading gently at Grace’s thigh with two hands. [Scared Grace die. Scared Grace regret. Scared alone again, planet die star die. Fail again. Not fix. Let Grace down, Grace regret Adrian regret all regret they send Rocky to fix problem Rocky cannot fix. Need Grace safe always, cannot have. Scared scared scared.]
“I know,” Grace said, and he still felt it too, sometimes. The terror of knowing he’d die far from home, or not reaching the switch in time, of Rocky laying there, still and leaking silver. “I know that, too. I know. It’s okay. I still want to try.”
[Amaze amaze amaze,] Rocky said softly, and pulled Grace closer, crowding over him. Grace wasn’t resisting or anything, but it was still a hot shivery shock, how easily and deftly Rocky could move him like this. Golly. [Sooooo Rocky can sleep on Grace’s chest now Rocky Grace boyfriends partners mates, question?]
“We’ll workshop it,” Grace laughed, and drummed along with the beat on Rocky’s shoulder, between the leg and vents, and was rewarded with a purring, pleased vibration. “What else you got on this mixtape, huh?”
[Grace wait and see,] Rocky hummed as a steady drumbeat started. [Is very long. I did much research on Earth reproductive practices, very detailed. Lots still to hear!]
No sweat. For this, Grace had all the time in the world.
Wait. Wait, he knew this song.
“Wait. Rocky. This is not biologically accurate! You’re not even a mammal! Where did you find this? You little devil, get back here--”
Rocky ran off laughing, but the Mary was small. Nowhere to hide.
Rocky would understand one day. Grace will always find him.