Chapter Text
"...blundering along, making a noise like elephants which—"
"What is word, question?" Rocky cuts in, interrupting my reading.
I lower the tablet and peer sideways at him over the rim of my glasses. "Which word? Elephant?" I ask.
He trills an affirmative, wriggling against my side. The scalding heat of his carapace is safely contained by the thin xenonite barrier between us, allowing only just enough warmth to pass through to make him the perfect, cozy space heater. After the scare over planet Adrian, Rocky was determined to engineer a more flexible, form-fitting xenonite suit to replace his unwieldy hamster ball. Something that could offer a full range of movement, with enough give around the claws to poke or grasp when necessary. It took a lot of trial and error, and the hands still haven't reached the levels of flexibility he wants them to be at, but it's already been a huge quality of life upgrade for us both. He now makes for an awesome bed time cuddle buddy, for one—as long as he keeps his pokey ends to himself, that is.
"Well...," I begin, shifting more comfortably into our shared nest of bed padding and blankets as I consider how one goes about describing an elephant to an alien. "It's this very large Earth animal—big enough to fill up this entire room lengthwise—with huge, round, flappy ears; two large, extruding teeth known as tusks; and a loooonng nose we call a trunk." I use my free hand, the one not holding the tablet, to first motion out the size and shape of an ear as well as the extended length of a tusk, then I stretch my arm out and wiggle it about some to demonstrate the nose. "They stomp around really loudly, and when it blows air through its trunk it creates a very shrill sound, like a trumpet—er, an Earth instrument." I quickly tack on the explanation before Rocky can ask. We haven't covered orchestral instruments too extensively yet.
Rocky hums, taking a moment to imagine what one must look—or rather, sound—like.
"Amaze! Earth ♪♬♩♪ so big, must be very scary," he chirps, assigning our new word a collection of notes I'll have to remember to add into the translator tomorrow. I've gotten pretty good at understanding most of what he says directly these days, but it's still useful to keep a complete record on hand. Who knows when I'll need the Eridian word for elephant again. "Grace mimic, question? Curious how ♪♬♩♪ sounds."
"What?" I huff out a laugh in disbelief. "You want me to act out an elephant for you, now?"
"Yes! Rocky want hear!" he says, jittering excitedly within his suit.
I should have known this was coming. You mimic an animal sound once for a guy and suddenly it becomes all he ever asks about any time a new one comes up. If only I'd never uttered the word "meow."
(At this point, I'm fairly certain he only asks because he gets a real kick out of how stupid I look while doing it.)
"I don't know, Rock, it's a pretty obnoxious sound...," I hedge, wondering how I'm going to get out of this one. Of course, that only seems to make him more excited. I try my best anyway. "Why don't we wait until tomorrow? I'll play it for you in the screen room."
"Is Grace not capable of making ♪♬♩♪ sound, question?" he asks, ignoring my suggestion and cutting straight to the heart of the matter. I can hear the taunting note in his voice, and, like the idiot I clearly am, I correct him.
"Well no, yeah, I can do it—approximately, at least—but it's going to sound really stupid," I warn. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, however, I know I've just made a grave mistake. Shoot, I should have just lied and told him I couldn’t do it!
Rocky makes a low, short, croaking sound I recognize as the Eridian version of a scoff. "Grace always sound stupid. No need for shame," he dismisses. And, yeah, I kind of walked right into that one. "I want hear!" he trills in demand.
(See, what'd I tell you?)
"Gee, thanks, bud," I say flatly. "You're being real encouraging there."
"Yes yes yes, many words of great encouragement." He clicks his claws at me and knocks a limb against my side. "Now make ♪♬♩♪ noise!"
I sigh and set the tablet down and off to the side. "Alright, alright," I say. Might as well get this over with. Scooting back some, I position myself more upright against the pillows and take a deep breath. Alright, I think to myself, here goes nothing. I then proceed to blow loudly and obnoxiously through my lips, making a very ridiculous approximation of an elephant. Mostly. Sort of. It's not precisely exact.
Rocky startles at the sudden and loud noise, then immediately breaks out in high-pitched, squeaky, musical laughter. And this isn't just your everyday high-pitched, squeaky, musical laughter either; oh no, Rocky's entire body is shaking from it. He practically collapses against me, unable to even sit straight.
"What that, question?!" Rocky demands with uneven stomps, the pitch of his voice careening up as his body continues to tremble away. "That noise so hideous!"
Despite my indignation at being laughed at, I can't help but join in from the complete bewilderment of his tone. "Hey!" I exclaim, feigning outrage between my chuckling. "I tried my best! And you're the one who demanded I do it! I told you it was going to sound stupid!"
"It was most stupid noise I hear from Grace yet!" he continues to trill, delighted. "You sound like Erid ♫♫♪ beast—very slow and ugly, only good for feeding other, more useful beast."
"Nice," I snort. "Great to know I'm just like some Eridian beast chow." I slump deeper into the pillows and fold my arms across my chest. Well, two can play at that game, I think to myself. "Go on, then. Why don't you give it a try? Show me what your ugly Eridian beast sounds like."
Rocky, finally managing to regain control of himself, sits up straighter. "You want Rocky to try mimic Erid beast, question?"
"Yeah," I say, nodding. "You always make me act out what stuff sounds like for you. I say it's your turn to act out something for me for a change."
Rocky hums, considering the request, before nodding back in agreement. A quirk he's picked up from me that never fails to make me smile. "Fine, I mimic. Show Grace how is done."
Ever bold and game for a challenge, he quickly scrambles up to his full height and, well, there's no way to describe it other than that he puffs up. If Eridians had feathers, I'm certain he would look just like a fluffed up parakeet at the moment.
I rest a hand over my mouth to hide the grin threatening to break out across my face, and wait for him to do whatever it is he's no doubt about to wow me with.
There is a drawn out moment of anticipation.
Then, quite abruptly, Rocky lets out a screech so shrill—yet still so bizarrely musical, somehow—that my entire body jerks from the surprise. As soon as my brain catches up with the fact that, no, some ridiculous alien monstrosity isn't about to eat me, there's no need for the adrenaline rush, thanks, laughter quickly begins bubbling up out of me.
"What the heck was that?!" I ask through peals of laughter and watery eyes. "It sounded downright terrifying! Cripes, Rocky, I didn't even know you could make a noise like that!"
"Yes, see!" Rocky chirps back, bobbing to and fro excitedly. "You sound exactly like!"
"What?! No, c'mon, I do not! I literally sounded nothing like that!"
"Did too, very much so!"
"Yeah right, sure, whatever you say, Mr.—" I break off into my best approximation of the shrill, screeching noise Rocky had just made. He immediately starts warbling in laughter all over again.
"No, stop stop stop! Noise even worse than before!" he cries, knocking at my shoulder to make me stop.
I ignore his pleas for mercy and instead try to push my ridiculous mimicry up another half octave—and am promptly rewarded with a pillow to the face for my efforts.
"Hey, rude!" I laugh, pulling the pillow off of me and throwing it right back at him. Rocky knocks it away effortlessly, and within a matter of seconds we're beefing it out in an all-out, very childish pillow brawl. It's the most fun I've had in weeks—since, well, whenever the last time was we roped each other into doing something completely ridiculous. Probably the puppet theater that devolved into the stupidest game of action figures ever played between two ostensibly fully developed adults. Trust me, you're better off not knowing. But before that? Before Rocky? Jeez, I couldn't even tell you.
"Grace is going down!" Rocky taunts, throwing a free limb up in a mocking jazz hands gesture.
"Not if I take you out first!" I scramble to my knees, preparing to strike.
He makes me feel alive again in ways I can't even fully describe, for the first time in more years than I can even recall. Certainly well before I screwed up my life trajectory with my impulsive, acerbic tongue and a needlessly inflammatory dissertation that landed me out on my butt. Definitely before the disaster that was my failed relationship with Linda. Maybe even before college entirely, if I'm being real honest with myself here. I mean, here I am tussling around with pillows like I'm a child all over again!
Rocky has reminded me what it's like to have fun. What it's like to just goof around with someone you're close with, no strings or expectations attached. Not wanting anything out of you, not holding you to impossible standards, not being disappointed in your life choices. Just existing in each other's orbits. And battling it out with pillows like total dorks.
Despite all the hardships it's taken to reach this moment, I'm so eternally grateful I met him. This past year, while certainly not without its ups and downs, has only been as weatherable as it has been because Rocky's here with me. Without him... well, I'd be dead by now, for one. Asphyxiated from nitrogen, shot up with heroin, or maybe just straight up shot. Humanity's one last Hail Mary: a tragic dud. But, with Rocky's help, we were able to do it—to save both our planets and each other. He gave me my life back, and he's made that life better than it ever would have been without him, even if I'd never left Earth at all.
I often think back to that one Soviet experiment with long-term isolation. Stratt had told me about it once, a lifetime ago—about how the Soviets confined a crew together long-term in order to simulate how an eight month trip to Mars might play out. It only took three months for someone to snap and try to kill a fellow crewmate. The incident ultimately led to the cancellation of the entire project.
It's coming up on eighteen months—a whole year and a half—of Rocky and I being crammed together on the Hail Mary, and not a day goes by where I'm not grateful and relieved beyond measure to have him here with me. I couldn't imagine doing any of this without him. He's my best friend. My Rock.
Of course, that isn't to say living confined together on a space ship is all sunshine and rainbows, either. We've had our fair share of snits—and even one memorable week-long stretch where we didn't talk to each other at all—but we always work through things eventually. Even in the face of his unrelenting bossiness, the lack of any and all bodily privacy, and my embarrassing propensity for boneheadedness, being with him is just so easy.
I do miss Earth an awful lot at times, though. My kids, the open space, the sky, the food. God, do I really miss the food. Living on coma slurry, taumoeba slushies, and the rare, carefully rationed, actually edible treat has not exactly been a walk in the park. The things I'd do to get my hands on a burger... Ugh, I know better than to let myself go down that particular rabbit hole. Fantasizing about food I can't have—can never have again—only leads to a lot of moping and Rocky inevitably asking me why my face opening is stuck in sad mode.
It's fine. I'm managing. And Rocky being here—working together, watching films with me, cozying up by my side while I read to him in bed, partaking in such ridiculous pastimes as pillow fighting? All helps me do that. And goodness knows we still have an endless sea of topics to sift through between both of our wildly differing biologies and cultures. But even in those moments where things do turn quiet and the conversations lull, it's still always a comfortable, companionable kind of silence. Of course, it's never really silent between the two of us; Rocky taps and coos and chitters to himself constantly, always off fiddling away with some project or another. And I know, no matter how perfectly still I may try to be, my body is a never-ending cacophony of biological functions from Rocky's perspective—he's certainly commented enough times on my stomach's gurgling to drive that fact home. There is zero bodily privacy with him around.
But, honestly? It's nice. He may drive me crazy sometimes, but he also keeps me sane.
I wouldn't give this—what we have together here on the Hail Mary; this easy companionship we share—up for the world. Which I suppose I've quite literally proven at this point, seeing as I gave up my own world to make sure Rocky keeps his.
Just thinking back to that oppressive, all-consuming loneliness I'd experienced before meeting him and during those three months when we parted ways—a loneliness I'd still be experiencing now if not for him being here—makes me shudder. That first month after we'd said goodbye, before I'd discovered the taumoeba had evolved to pass through xenonite, and when all I had was four years of solitude and coma paste to look forward to, had been some of the hardest weeks of my life.
Heck, I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for Rocky. Unlike me, he hadn't woken up to his companions already dead, with no memory of who they even were; he had watched as everyone he knew slowly turned sick and fell, one by one, into a slumber they'd never wake up from, leaving him to drift alone in the vacuum of space for forty-six years, with nothing to do but chart the Tau Ceti system and puzzle away over a problem whose solution would remain forever out of reach.
When the taumoeba infested the Blip-A's stock of astrophage, it must have felt like the world was ending all over again.
I'm glad neither of us has to be alone anymore. That we have each other here, now.
As I watch Rocky shuffle from side to side, three of his limbs akimbo and whole body jittering with anticipation as he readies a cushion between his two free hands—playful and excited and ready to strike—I'm hit with an overwhelming wash of affection. Rocky truly is the best.
"You look about as menacing as a chihuahua there, big guy," I say, smiling helplessly. We are in the middle of a pillow stand-off, though, so I can't let myself go too soft on him. Hastily, I tack on, "Which is to say: not at all."
(Although he may just be about as cute as one.)
Rocky chitters haughtily back at me and lowers his body closer to the ground while raising the cushion higher. "Rocky not care about strange earth creatures!"
Well, that's definitely not true. I'd bet my whole remaining stash of ramen that Rock'll ask to see a picture of one tomorrow, right after I properly show him what an elephant looks like.
I shift my weight from one knee to the other (thank Christmas the dormitory is padded), and lower my stance in a mirror of Rocky’s—the both of us poised and ready to attack at a moment's notice.
"They're this tiny, comically weak breed of dog that likes to act all big and tough—basically all bark and no bite, just like you," I taunt, my smile morphing into a broad shark’s smirk.
He makes a derisive chirp. "Rocky is not weakling, all bark Earth pet! My claws much stronger than bone teeth. Can snap Grace in two!" He clicks at me in menacing emphasis.
I grin wider, a thrill of anticipation creeping up my spine. "Oh yeah? That a threat, bud?"
A low, foreboding warble begins to rise up and out from Rocky. He lifts the pillow further back, body tensing as he readies to strike.
I quickly rush on to say, "It's actually a compliment, you know!"
Rocky pauses, waiting for me to explain further. I plaster on my best fudge-eating grin.
"Chihuahuas are a real hot commodity on Earth," I elaborate. "They're just so pathetic and cute, you see, that—oomph!"
The pillow knocks me square in the face, sending me tumbling backwards and nearly knocking my glasses off entirely.
I hear Rocky crisply trill out, "You say very stupid things when tired!" followed by a, "I think is time for Grace to go sleep now!" and before I even understand what is happening, I find myself pinned down against the bedding with a blanket being aggressively pushed up under my sides.
When I realize Rocky's tucked me into bed, I break out into laughter.
"What, bedtime already?" I ask, smiling up at him through my askew glasses as he clicks a free claw at me in a huff. "But we'd only just settled in for reading time!"
I try to wiggle my way out from under his hold so I can sit back up, but Rocky immediately pushes me back down again and keeps me firmly held in place. Cripes, he's so strong that I can barely move at all. He's a lot smaller than me and often keeps sequestered to his portion of the ship, so it's easy to forget just how powerful he truly is, but wow is he—yeah, really fudging strong.
A strange, twisty feeling begins to form in my gut.
"Yes, time sleep!" Rocky stubbornly chimes, sitting on my chest to emphasize his demand. He's careful not to crush me with his full weight, but the press of his carapace through the xenonite suit still leaves me breathless. He's so warm. "Grace is unruly and obstinate! Acting out, picking fights, all because you not have enough sleep!"
I snort. It's plain he's just being facetious, but I call him out on his bull-puckey anyway. "Me?! You're the one who threw the first punch—er, pillow—here, buddy!"
I try yet again to squirm out from under his grasp, but he holds firm, the hand on my bicep restraining me just that much tighter. My face feels strangely hot—must be from the heat of Rocky's body permeating through the suit. But why the heck is my heart beating so fast?
"Because Grace become sleep dumb, obvious," Rocky dismisses. His musical trills have pitched down into a low, vibrating thrum that reverberates across every point of contact between us. I shiver at the sensation, at the way I'm pinned there, at the heavy, warm weight of Rocky's body pressed against mine. My pulse quickens further, blood rapidly rushing both to my face and down south to my—
Oh god.
I'm getting hard.
I immediately freeze on the spot, giving up any and all attempts to wiggle free. My eyes go wide. I swallow thickly, awkwardly. Rocky shifts ever so slightly above me, making a low, ambient hum that travels bone deep. My gut lurches. My dick swells further.
Aaaand nope. Nope nope nope, no way, we are not going there. This is not happening right now.
I try to force a laugh, to continue on and act like my world hasn't just shattered on its axis.
"You know what?" I squeak out, my voice cracking hideously towards the end. "You are so right. It is definitely time for me to go to bed now. The sleepiness just hit me, and, wow, yeah, I could really use those Zs."
I'm babbling. Rocky probably knows something is up—he knows when anything is up—though hopefully he doesn't realize what precisely is up at that exact moment. Oh my god. And it is so up. Fudgin'—cheese and crackers.
Rocky trills victoriously and finally lifts himself up off of me. Air rushes into my lungs so quickly I nearly go dizzy from it. "Good good good," he chirps smugly as I try, desperately, to get ahold of myself.
He parks himself down next to my side, settling in, as he always does now that he's got that fancy xenonite suit of his, to watch over and keep my company as I fall asleep. I know he won't stay there the entire night; at some point he'll either wander off to work on a project nearby—always keeping within observable range, of course—or he'll return to his side of the dormitory and cozy up on the xenonite platform above my bed nest to more directly and comfortably watch over me. But he knows the company helps me fall asleep faster, and he's told me he enjoys the soft, repetitive vibrations of my breathing and heartbeat as I drift off.
With trembling fingers, I carefully remove my glasses and store them safely out of the way.
"Lights off, Mary," I say, just barely managing to keep my voice steady.
The lights flicker off as commanded. Rocky coos softly next to me as I adjust into a more comfortable sleeping position.
(Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.)
I breathe out slowly. Close my eyes.
...
Fuuuuuck.