Chapter Text
Grace was fine. Right? He had solved the Astrophage crisis, saved Rocky, and now they were heading to Erid. Home. Really, everything should be just peachy, and usually, it was. Sure, Grace sometimes was overwhelmed with the grief that he’d never see Earth again, wouldn’t watch his kids grow up, that maybe he would die on the way to Erid, leaving Rocky alone again- stop that, Grace. There’s nothing to be done about it besides choke down that awful goop that technically provided enough calories to keep him alive.
But still. Grace would have a couple minutes of sobbing alone in the dormitory or in the washroom where Rocky would politely pretend not to hear, then the Eridian would clamber through Mary in that nifty xenonite suit to give Grace “skin-to-skin contact”, which he discovered in a mommy-blog some months ago.
Huh. A mommy-blog.
Grace had honestly never read one, but with the entire Internet uploaded to the Mary, it’s not surprising that Rocky would’ve found it on his many trawls through the digital landscape. And really, Grace should be proud that Rocky’s gotten so proficient at using the “portable thinking machine” as it’s saved a lot of confusion before it even started. Like the differences between what a human finds pretty, versus an Eridian.
~~~~~
Grace remembers a pair of bracelets Rocky made for him, shortly after being reunited. They were texturally interesting, yes, but just a dull gray color like all the other xenonite crafts Rocky made. Of course, Grace responded with complete enthusiasm, endeared by the effort, but Rocky seemed to be put off.
“Grace dislike bracelets, question? Is beautiful!” Rocky trilled, tapping at the glass closest to Grace’s face to get a better sense of his expression. “Many many fine structures, makes high, high noise. Rings so nicely, why Grace- wait.”
Rocky had immediately skittered off, in search of the laptop, humming melodies to himself that Grace couldn’t discern by ear. The translator had long been abandoned in everyday conversation, left in the lab as that’s where new words usually were discovered.
Grace, meanwhile, shook and spun the bracelets, trying to figure out what sound Rocky could possibly be talking about. He could detect a faint vibration, maybe even a subtle whine, like the feedback on a speaker but much fainter, before Rocky returned.
“Rock, buddy, the bracelets are lovely, but-” Rocky had quickly cut off Grace, explaining a low, almost chastened tone, “Rocky apologize. Forgot that humans are visual, not auditory. Bracelets sing delicate song at…” The Eridian clicks his claws, calculating, “20 to 21 human unit Hertz. Grace cannot hear, is Rocky’s fault.”
“Oh, Rocky! That makes a lot more sense, bud, but don’t feel bad! I always forget how much hearing range you have.” Grace rushed to explain, soothing Rocky’s worries. “Besides, I can kinda hear it. More like feel the micro vibrations, but still. You’re such a good engineer, Rocky, and a lovely jewelry maker to boot. If it sounds good to you, it sounds good to me, pal.”
“Grace cannot hear, therefore cannot sound good to Grace. Rocky should take back, readjust frequency-” Rocky reached at Grace’s wrist, as if preparing to take the bracelets away, before Grace yanked his hands back.
“Nah-ah! Human expression, Rock- if you’re happy, I’m happy. Also, learn to take a compliment!” Grace grinned, to be met with Rocky’s insistent warble. He stuck out his tongue defiantly, which earned a high-pitched shriek from Rocky.
“Disgust! Do not show wet mouth orifice muscle! Disgust disgust disgust!” Rocky trilled, although he taps a leg on the floor to better hear Grace, always fascinated with the human and all its leakiness.
~~~~~
Wait, where was Grace going with all that? Oh, yeah, the mommy-blog thing. Rocky was great at using the laptop, no doubt about it, and it was a real life-saver when there was social friction. But the mommy-blog thing… Grace didn’t know what to think about it. On one hand, the whole “skin-to-skin” idea was great, as Eridians aren’t really tactile in the way of hugs. Unless it can create some kind of sound, there’s not much use in it, in their eyes.
Well, not eyes. Carapaces? No… in their societal context, how about that.
But Grace is still human, and touch starvation is a very real concern, alongside actual starvation. Though Rocky had offered his own food, tried to engineer some way to manufacture something edible and nutritionally dense, there was no way around it. Grace would have just enough coma slurry, supplemented with Taumoeba, to get him to Erid. Malnutrition is a guarantee, and the degradation of Grace’s body is something Rocky had struggled to reconcile with.
But the touch starvation, which was explained after Grace had a resurfaced memory of a hug from one of his kids, was something Rocky could fix. So became the xenosuit, which sent Grace into a full blown sobbing fit the first time they got to hug.
~~~~~
“Grace-Rocky hug properly, question? Good for Grace, so Grace is not touch starved, statement.” Rocky cooed, politely ignoring the tears, snot, and general mucus that came when Grace got emotional. “Grace will be fed touch by Rocky, then Eridian scientists will create real, eating food. Grace happy happy happy on Erid!”
Grace sniffled again, utterly exhausted from crying but so, so relieved. “Yeah, Rocky. Happy happy happy.” Then he whistled a clunky tune, an approximation of the song Rocky would sing as thanks. The Eridian trilled, carefully squeezing Grace closer before nudging him to the bed.
“Grace rehydrate, regain fluids so can remain Rocky’s leaky space blob, then sleep. Rocky watch.”
~~~~~
Ugh, he got off track again. Grace has been prone to letting his thoughts wander, nowadays, considering he and Rocky had nothing but time on the four year trip to Erid. But they really deserved a break, all things considered, after saving the universe. And it was good, to have time to think, to sort himself out after loosing his memories in that coma, and to mentally prepare for the bright future ahead.
But sometimes it led to times like now. Grace lay on his bunk, staring while Rocky peacefully fidgeted with some spare xenonite, on the other side of the barrier. There’s nothing but time, and conversations that flowed easily and lapsed into companionable silence.
During the silence, however, is where Grave got a little too deep in his head. He was fine, objectively. The starvation and subsequent degradation of his body wasn’t ideal, but Grace could trust Rocky to fix. But there were issues that couldn’t be explained by malnutrition, not this early on.
The brain fog, maybe. After whatever injection he was given before being sent on the Hail Mary, it screwed with his memories- but it didn’t really make him slow, though? Nowadays, he’d get lost in thought, chewing on a fingernail or twisting his hair. Rocky had to nudge him often, accompanied by a concerned trill that Grace had to wave off.
The emotions weren’t too different, Grace had always been pretty emotional, much to Rocky’s fond “disgust.” But it’s getting a little ridiculous, the way he’d pout and huff over silly, ridiculous things. Rocky would gently remind Grace to eat the coma slurry/ Taumoeba mixture, and Grace would honest to God whine. It’s stupid, he’s a grown man, a whole doctor, with a PhD and everything!
And as a grown man, he really shouldn’t be sucking his thumb like a toddler. Or doodling in the margins of his notes. Or watching shows made for babies. Or basically swaddling himself in the good luck quilt, no matter how nice it felt.
Grace could ignore it, ultimately, after all the stresses that he’d been through. Maybe his body was just fully and utterly exhausted and throwing in the towel early, causing these behaviors, letting his mind degrade before the body had a chance to.
That still doesn’t explain it, does it? Grace is a scientist, a biologist, really. This is his bread and butter, and he knows full well that this isn’t a simple question, nor would he get a simple answer. It’s like an itch just underneath his skin, unable to be properly soothed by his unsatisfactory human nails. Maybe Rocky could get to the itch, with those claws of his. Speaking of-
“Grace is doing thing that Rocky does not acknowledge, statement.” The Eridian chirps from the other side of the xenonite barrier.
Startled, Grace pulls his thumb from his mouth and sighs. When did he do that? The skin around the base of his thumb is a little red from being gnawed on, and Grace wipes away the spit with the hem of his shirt. “Rocky…” he begins, cautiously and a little nervous. “I think something’s wrong with me.”