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It had been years since Adrian last heard it, but they would never forget the opening to Rocky’s weaving.
He had been a bold little thing when they first courted. There was nothing gentle about Rocky’s song, no careful introduction or rising progression that swelled the way Adrian’s heart did. When Rocky and Adrian first began to weave, Rocky sang with an almost frustrating confidence, with sharp staccato notes that needed no following but would sound so much better with a harmony. It had been difficult, at first, for Adrian to find a way to knit their own notes into that noise, but it had been perfect. Theirs.
Everyone else who tried to sing with Adrian started too soft, these days. Weakly, like they were to be feared, or doted on, or treated oh so gently. Adrian had no taste for it. No need to weave with anyone other than Rocky and maybe a few of their friends. Those songs were much shorter, played only on the nights that Adrian was at their most lonely.
So when Adrian first heard it, they knew it was none other than Rocky.
Without his bravado, shockingly. Adrian knew as well as everyone else on Erid that Rocky had just saved the planet, but when he approached their cove, his call was so… tame. Lost.
The rhythm was wrong, too. He called out to Adrian, those sharp staccato notes, but held the rests between them just a beat too long. It was as if he had gotten used to calling without a response.
Adrian climbed to their feet and turned towards the mouth of the cove. Rocky was there, arms and legs bunched tightly together, thorax held close to the ground. He was so small. Hadn’t grown an inch. Perhaps he didn’t realize that he was, but Rocky was shivering, creating a mournful rattle that did not pair at all with the gorgeous chime of his hero’s regalia. Adrian’s heart seized at the sight of their mate and the arresting feeling that they felt knowing that of everyone, of all of the crew, it had been their mate who survived—Adrian couldn’t sing when their heart was doing that. They certainly couldn’t weave.
Rocky took precious steps closer. There was terrible scaring across one of his arms and thorax, spreading outwards in an implosion. A brace hugged three of his legs as if Rocky couldn't hold himself together anymore. He called out again, the introductory line of their weaving, but each note slid upwards in tone as if in question. As if he were doubting that Adrian would respond.
His nervous rattle rose in pitch.
And that would not do. Adrian shook their back, felt the shifting of their vocal plates, and began the hum that underlaid Rocky’s song. Their voice was much deeper now, housed in such a larger carapace, but Rocky only startled for a moment before his whistle grew ten times in size.
That was all he needed, apparently, because Rocky began to run towards Adrian. He jumped over the lip of their cove and crashed into Adrian’s place of resting, the chimes of his regalia creating this laughably tuneless shimmer in his haste. Adrian met him halfway, so aware of their maturity and Rocky’s lack of, slowing in their approach as to not squash their beloved. Rocky seemed to hesitate again at that, offering his arm, and Adrian met him enthusiastically.
Adrian rung their arm against the hard exterior of Rocky’s and he shuddered with delight, repeating the introduction of their weaving. Adrian called back, stamped their foot to guide Rocky into their rhythm, and nearly melted there on the stone when Rocky began the sweeping motions of a courting dance. Adrian felt all of two hundred years old, clumsily tripping through the steps, singing themself raw now that they had Rocky responding. They had missed it. They had missed him.
They could not ignore that they would be the only pair from the mission dancing together that night.
Rocky did not sing the same. His voice was strained, perhaps he was a bit quieter. Adrian had not missed that Rocky did not run to their cove the minute he had landed, but instead stayed with his alien and Una and the team that had quickly built around them. There was a longer, more exhausting conversation brewing around the years that yawned in between them, but there, in that moment, they were in harmony. Singing, dancing, pummeling their cove back into the shape of them when it had held only Adrian for so long. Adrian could ignore the storm for a night to dance with Rocky again.
In the final step, Rocky lifted him himself onto his toes, as high as he could. Gently, Adrian folded their legs underneath themself and sat before Rocky, leaning forward in offering. Rocky touched their resonant surface’s together and the deep echo swelled forward, two perfectly harmonic notes that sang each other into silence.
“Adrian Adrian Adrian,” Rocky sang, climbing onto Adrian’s arms. He pushed his resonant surface more solidly into Adrian’s, more to feel the thrum than to make music.
“Rocky,” trilled Adrian, unable to stop the sad rattling that exuded from them. Not sad that they finally had Rocky in their arms, no, but sad it had taken so long.
“So beautiful,” Rocky said, smoothing his hands over Adrian’s new features. The several molts that had passed had done them well. They were stronger now, thanks to their work, their carapace smoothed by their labour and perhaps an obsessive amount of self grooming. It had been comforting to polish themself when Rocky had been away.
Adrian pushed into Rocky’s hands. They shrugged their shoulders to feel Rocky jostle in their arms and beamed at the nervous and excited note he let out. It was such a gift to touch Rocky again, to hear his songs. Part of Adrian was deeply confused as to why Rocky hadn’t aged, or at least hadn’t molted, but rather selfishly was glad that Rocky hadn’t changed into someone unrecognizable. It made them a little self conscious, how different they were.
“My beloved,” Rocky sang, his voice paired with the heroic chimes of his regalia. “I missed you.”
“Rocky so brave,” warbled Adrian, unable to keep the angst out of their voice. The rumours had spread fast, once Rocky touched down in a ship unlike his own, and Adrian’s friend Una had been there when Rocky allowed them to open the door—had told Adrian about the death of the crew—about Rocky’s discovery—
So brave indeed. Adrian wanted to bawl just thinking about their precious Rocky sitting alone in a ship surrounded by death, then braving an alien encounter and saving their planet all in the same trip. Their rattle increased, and Rocky tried to soothe it by touching their resonant surfaces together again.
“Adrian so brave,” said Rocky. Adrian scoffed, a sharp exhale, and it rung their surfaces together once more. “Yes yes yes!” Rocky repeated, petulant. “Adrian very brave. Kept cove safe while I was gone, statement.”
“Rocky stupid,” teased Adrian, scooping Rocky close to their chest and trapping him there. He squeaked in embarrassment, more so when Adrian flicked his carapace to ring it, but sang happily as he settled into Adrian’s arms, safe under their watchful eye. “Tell me everything.”
“Everything,” Rocky agreed. “Songs to be sung forever.”
Oh, and how joyful was that?