Archive of Our Own

On any normal day, Grace would be working his way around the ship, taking inventory, cleaning up messes from days prior, checking on the Taumeoba farms, and most importantly: terrorizing Rocky in much the same way Rocky likes to terrorize him. It’s daily routine at this point, and to deviate from it in large quantities would leave both of them at least a little bit frazzled. This doesn’t include the occasional movie night or card game (which Grace knows he only wins if Rocky pretends to lose).

This, however, is not a normal day.

It’s Grace’s birthday, and if he’s being completely honest, he’s not quite sure how he’s feeling about it. He almost didn’t register what day it was when he crossed the prior day off his calendar, pausing for a moment to stare at the page with a furrowed brow. He was forgetting something, he could tell that much, but it reminded him horribly of when he had first woken up from his coma, saw his dead crewmates and thought, “I know that I miss you, but I don’t know why.” 

December 29th. A Capricorn, as his ex-girlfriend Linda explained to him. He had thought it funny then, that Capricorns tend to find themselves in leadership positions. She had explained to him that oftentimes, they had no desire to be in those positions but found themselves thrust into them anyway. Grace had humored her, joking about being a molecular biologist and fitting right into that stereotype. And then he became a teacher. And then he became the leading expert on Astrophage. And then he became the guy who would save the world at the cost of his own life. Which he definitely had no desire to be.

Ah, well. Maybe Linda knew what she was talking about.

Regardless, Grace was stuck; he knows that he never really went all out for his birthdays to begin with, but he also knows that he enjoyed it when someone acknowledged it and wished him a happy birthday. Even in passing, which his fellow teachers on Earth usually did. But now, he’s not sure that he should be focusing so much energy on it. After all, he was in a coma for four whole birthdays, what’s missing one more? Plus, he’s not even sure if he’s explained the concept of birthdays to Rocky yet, and he would feel weird if he went to the effort of explaining them just to say, “And guess what? It’s MY birthday! Celebrate me!”

A sigh escapes Grace. He shakes his head. What is he doing? Of course he should just ignore the fact that it’s his birthday. It’s not even an important birthday— his 30th passed while he was comatose. He’s…34 now? Damn. If he’d been around for his students to see him hit 30, he’d be getting called ancient, and one of them probably would have gifted him an old cane from a late grandparent or something. He chuckles to himself.

“Why Grace sound sad, question?” 

He looks up from the calendar with a start. He hadn’t even registered the sound of Rocky’s ball rolling clumsily into the room. He pulls his glasses away from his face and leaves them hanging by one of his ears, looking at Rocky as he settles back down.

“Not sad,” he says. “That was laughter. You heard me laugh.”

If Rocky had eyes to roll, he’d be rolling them. “Rocky understands what laughter is. Even small laughter. Rocky also know when laughter is sad.”

“You know me too well, bud,” Grace concedes. He sets his pen down on his bed, fully facing Rocky now with his legs crossed in front of him. “But really, I’m fine. Just thinking about my kids back home.”

Rocky nods his carapace— such a human gesture that Grace hadn’t realized wasn’t something Eridians did until he’d known Rocky for almost a year. Nodding and shaking his carapace was something he’d picked up purely from his time spent with Grace. It’s endearing as all get out, Grace thinks. 

“Grace students. Understand.” Rocky rolls his ball closer to Grace. “What Grace thinking about students, question?”

“Oh, I just miss them,” Grace says, and it isn’t a lie. “They used to make fun of me for being out of touch all the time.”

“How can Grace run out of touch, question? Human skin so sensitive, touch so—”

“It’s a saying,” Grace interrupts, tone heavy with amusement. “It means that I was too old to understand what was popular with the kids. They would make a lot of references that I didn’t understand.”

Rocky lets out a hum of understanding. “Rocky out of touch, question? Grace make lots of references Rocky no understand.”

Grace laughs a bit. “Sure, but I don’t expect you to understand all my references in the slightest. The kids had some level of expectation for me, since I was one of the cool teachers. Or so some of them told me.”

“Grace look at day tracker for long time,” Rocky says. “What about day tracker make Grace think of being out of touch with students?”

Grace rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the calendar again. At December 29th. 

“It’s… I’m just. Getting old, I guess. I was 29 when I left, and I’m 34 now.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “Today, actually.” 

Maybe Rocky wouldn’t care. Maybe he wouldn’t know enough about birthdays to have a reaction to this. 

Unfortunately, Grace is not that lucky. 

“Grace birthday?!” Rocky sings, his entire body shooting upwards as his legs straighten in excitement. “Grace birthday! Good good good! Rocky know how important birthday is to humans. Why Grace not tell Rocky sooner? Did not prepare gifts!”

Hoh, boy. Grace holds back a groan of regret. He doesn’t know how to explain to Rocky that he doesn’t feel that he deserves any gifts, and—

“Wait wait wait,” Grace says, waving his hands in front of him. “When did you learn that? I don’t remember ever explaining the concept of birthdays to you, let alone the importance of them.” 

“Rocky watch many Earth movies while Grace sleeps,” he says simply. “Watch Sixteen Candles. Learn birthdays very important to humans. Grace birthday is most important of all.”

Stunned, Grace throws his hands up in exasperation. “You probably learned about a heck of a lot more than just birthdays from that movie. We’ll address that at a later date. But— y’know, it’s just a day. No different than any other day. And my birthday definitely isn’t more important than anyone else’s, so let’s just forget it, huh? Don’t worry about gifts. I got everything I need right here.” He gestures to the whole of the ship, then to Rocky. 

Rocky trills at that. “Rocky appreciate, but Grace wrong, statement. Grace birthday most important day of Earth year. Rocky celebrate Grace being born!” Before Grace can get another word in, Rocky starts to sing happily to himself as he goes to roll out of the room. Just as he gets to the doorway, though, he stops, and Grace tilts his head in confusion.

After a beat, Rocky backtracks just a bit, approaching Grace but stopping halfway across the room. He taps his fingers together in front of him in a nervous way. It’s rare that he gets like this, and Grace doesn’t like to think about the fact that he finds it… cute. He’ll continue to call it endearing for now, just to save himself the headache of unpacking all that.

“What… What Grace want for birthday, question?”

Grace’s chest hurts at the uncharacteristically nervous tone of Rocky’s voice. He wants to give a real answer to placate his friend, since this seems to be a lot more important to him than it does to Grace. But he doesn’t know what he would want. It’s not like they can order, say, a weighted blanket off of Amazon from where they are. Or a crap ton of electrolyte powder, which Stratt conveniently forgot to send with them. She knew about his medical issues, but he supposes she figured he was going to die anyway, so why bother? There are so many things Grace wishes he had now that he’s not as worried about dying. Most of them are things that made it easier for him to function on Earth, such as the weighted blanket. If Rocky didn’t weigh nearly 400 pounds and constantly have to exist inside a xenonite ball, Grace would ask him to sleep on his chest like Rocky had initially wanted when they first met.

“Grace?”

Grace shakes his head, bringing himself back into the moment. “Sorry, Rock. What’d you say?”

“What Grace want for birthday,”  Rocky repeats himself, tone more insistent this time. 

“Y’know,” Grace says, deciding an unrealistic idea is better than no idea at all, “I think I want a hug from my best friend. If you can figure that one out, you’ll never have to get me another birthday gift again.”

“Rocky will continue to get Grace gifts anyway.” Grace flushes at the declaration, which he does not want to address. Rocky is quiet for a moment after, tapping his claws on the ground in thought. And before Grace can tell him he was just joking, don’t worry about it, just make him some xenonite barbells so he doesn’t lose these muscles so fast, Rocky is perking up and skittering to leave the room again. “Rocky know how to get Grace gift! Will take some time. Late gift. Will make up for it next Earth year.”

“Rock, you really don’t have to—” 

But then he’s gone, and Grace listens to the sound of his ball clattering down the corridor, deflating back onto his bed in defeat. 

It’s been days. Almost a week at this point, that Rocky has been preoccupied with whatever his gift is for Grace. It’s sweet, he thinks, that he’s putting so much time and effort into it, but Grace is so darn curious. He starts trying to sneak peeks into Rocky’s work area, knowing that Rocky can hear him at literally every given moment, but he’s got to know.

“Rocky hear Grace,” Rocky says for the third time that day, causing Grace to stop in his tracks. He groans in frustration, setting his hands on the xenonite glass of Rocky’s enclosure and pressing his face up against it, trying to see around his friend’s body for a glimpse of what he’s working on. 

“Come on, Rock,” he says into the glass. He knows he probably looks smushy and ridiculous. Rocky would probably say he looks smushy and ridiculous all the time. “You’re killing me here.”

A chunk of something suddenly thunks against the other side of the glass in front of Grace’s face, falling to the floor with a clatter. He leaps back, startled, and peers at the object on the floor. A discarded bit of xenonite. 

“Did you just throw that at me?” Grace asks, positively aghast.

Rocky doesn’t make any motion to acknowledge him. 

With a frustrated sigh, Grace turns around and leans against the barrier, slumping down to the ground. “By the time you finish, I’ll be 35.” Still, no response. “By the way, I rewatched Sixteen Candles the other day, and I’m thinking that maybe you need to start running the movies you want to watch by me first.”

“Why, question?” There it is.

“I don’t know, just a lot of stuff in it— themes, I guess, that I think might go over your head. Might be a bit much.”

“Grace refer to themes of human sexuality. Reproduction. Big part of movie that Sam worry Jake will not like her because Sam never mated before. Wants first time mating to be with Jake.”

Grace blinks. “Uh, yeah, I mean—”

“Rocky not child,” he says flatly. “Rocky older than Grace. Not know why Grace say getting old. Grace baby compared to Rocky. Rocky can handle themes.”

Okay, so Grace feels like an idiot. Of course Rocky can handle things like that in movies, he’s a fully grown adult. Grace just… worries, he supposes, that if Rocky is exposed to the human world of sex, he may have questions for him. Grace would have answers, of course, but he wouldn’t be thrilled about it. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, ashamed. “You’re right. You’re your own man— uh, person. Being. You don’t need me hovering over your every move.”

Rocky lets out a pleased hum. “Rocky Grace equal. Both still learning about other. Rocky appreciate if Grace stop hovering now.”

It takes Grace a moment to realize that he means now now, even though he’s facing away and pointedly not looking at Rocky’s project. “Oh, yeah!” He pushes himself up, taking a moment to steady himself against the xenonite barrier as he feels all the blood in his body rush immediately to his legs. He closes his eyes to fight against the lightheadedness, breathing deeply. Distantly, he realizes Rocky has gone still.

“Grace okay, question?”

Grace nods, eyes still squeezed shut as his circulation returns to normal. He swallows. “All good, Rock. Hey, when do you think you’ll be done?”

“Rocky not know. Give time.”

Grace nods in disappointment. He raps his knuckles against the barrier a couple times in goodbye. “Alright, well. I miss you, just saying. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Rocky did hear it— ah, joke.” Rocky continues tinkering on his project. As Grace is about to exit the room, Rocky pauses again. “Be done soon. Soon soon soon. Grace will be happy.”

Rocky keeps his promise of finishing up soon soon soon, and Grace couldn’t be more relieved. It’s officially day seven of Rocky’s project. While he’d been working on it, he’d demanded that Grace sleep within his line of sight. “Isn’t this whole ship within your line of sight, technically?” Grace had asked, and Rocky had huffed through his vents at him, once more ordering him to make himself a bed on the floor right on the other side of the glass. Grace didn’t love the idea of sleeping on the cold, hard floor again, even with a pile of blankets underneath him. But the actual bed wasn’t much better, if he was being honest, and he liked the fact that Rocky seemed to want him physically near him while he slept even though it was entirely unnecessary.

That’s where Grace wakes up today, his arm thrown over his eyes in an effort to block the godawful fluorescent lights blaring down on him and his spine practically screaming at him to get up and stretch.

“Grace awake, question?” 

He smacks his lips together, attempting to produce any amount of saliva to curb the dry mouth he’s been plagued with this morning. He doesn’t move his arm from where it rests over his eyes. “Getting there,” he grumbles. “Armando, water please.” He blindly holds his other hand out and a moment later feels a cup of room temperature water (with a straw! Thanks, Armando) being placed in his hand. 

“Gift finished,” Rocky says as Grace awkwardly angles his head to sip water without spilling any. He finally removes his arm from his face, slowly managing to open his eyes, squinting with the effort. Despite being a teacher, he was never a morning person. 

“Alright, buddy, whatcha got for—“ 

Grace stops, eyes adjusting to the sight in front of him. He fumbles for his glasses on the floor next to his makeshift bed, sitting up and quickly shoving them on so he can really take in what he’s looking at. 

It’s Rocky, outside of the barrier, standing at Grace’s feet. No xenonite ball. Grace almost panics for a split second, his heart rate spiking as he thinks that Rocky might be unprotected in Grace’s atmosphere. He realizes with a dawning sense of amazement that no, Rocky is protected, entirely covered head to toe in a form fitting xenonite suit. It shimmers a bit as the lights reflect off of the glass. It looks to be exactly the same material as the single mesh panel in Rocky’s ball. Flexible, transparent, and, hopefully, insulated.

Grace can’t breathe. Well, he can, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He gestures wordlessly to his friend, trying to find something smart to say.

“You… a suit!” 

Nailed it.

“Grace so stupid when first wake up,” Rocky trills in amusement. “Yes, Rocky make suit. Rocky make suit to hug Grace, touch Grace when feeling sick for home.”

Grace exhales shakily, staring at Rocky in pure admiration. He made a new xenonite suit just for him, just so he could provide Grace some level of physical comfort. What did he do to deserve this?

“I…” Grace laughs breathlessly. “I don’t know what to say, Rock. You— I was kind of joking when I said I wanted a hug ‘cause I didn’t think it would even be possible.”

Rocky fidgets nervously with his claws, tapping one of his legs lightly on the floor. “Grace still want, question? Hug, question?”

“Yeah, man, Grace definitely still want hug.” He can’t take it anymore; this has been on the forefront of his mind for months. There have been countless nights where he’s been lying awake, thinking about how desperately he wants just to be held again. It’s not like he ever got a surplus of hugs or physical attention back on Earth, but there were plenty of high-fives, hands on shoulders, claps on the back, and the occasional awkward-polite hug that took the edge off for him. He didn’t realize how much the lack of literally any physical contact would affect him. Plus, now that he’s got someone in his constant vicinity that he actually likes, the urge to express affection like that has grown harder and harder to ignore. Hugging the ball, Rocky’s warm carapace pressed up against the other side, was as close as he could get and it wasn’t enough. 

Leaning forward on his knees, Grace goes to reach his arm out toward Rocky, but Rocky holds his hands up to stop him. 

“Rocky not certain about temperature,” he says quickly. “Soft touch first, to make sure Grace not get burned. Should be fine, but want to be sure.”

Grace deflates a little, fully having been ready to throw himself entirely into Rocky, ready to have all five of Rocky’s arms wrapped around his frame, enveloping him in their warmth. But he supposes Rocky is right, he doesn’t want to get burned, so he should reel himself in a little.

“Okay, okay,” Grace says, nodding. He pulls himself into a sitting position on his knees in front of Rocky. Even now, he can feel heat radiating off of his body. He swallows. 

The moment his shaking hand comes to a rest on the top of Rocky’s carapace, he thanks whatever deities exist because it’s bearable. It’s definitely hot, yes, but it’s not uncomfortable by any means. Sort of like holding a bowl of ramen freshly out the microwave. A smile stretches across Grace’s face, his other hand reaching up to touch one of Rocky’s arms. He feels the vents on top of his carapace flutter and roll, and he can almost feel the texture of Rocky under the xenonite. It’s exhilarating in a way that makes Grace feel a bit nauseous, his breaths coming quickly as he attempts to ground himself. Here is Rocky. Here is Rocky with something he invented to make Grace feel better.

God, he’s so screwed. 

“You’re fine,” he breathes, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it to Rocky or to himself. “I can touch you.”

Rocky chirps, vibrating under Grace’s touch as his hands stroke gently over the suit. Grace makes a strangled sound deep in his throat. “Please, Rock, can I—“

Before he can finish his sentence, Rocky is closing the gap between them and wrapping two strong arms around Grace, his whole body vibrating with excitement. Grace is relieved that Rocky seems to be getting as much out of it as Grace is, or at least it seems that way. He’s basically purring, Grace thinks fondly. Sniffling against where his face is pressed into the top of Rocky’s carapace, he realizes that he’s crying, his entire frame shaking with quiet sobs. 

“Oh, god, sorry,” he mutters into Rocky. “This is probably so gross. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“Rocky doesn’t mind, statement,” Rocky replies. “Grace allowed to be leaky. Part of birthday gift.”

Grace chokes out a laugh at that. “Gee, thanks.” He squeezes Rocky tighter, closing his eyes against the heat of his carapace. This is everything he had hoped for, everything he’d thought about while falling asleep every night. He doesn’t allow himself to think about how pathetic that is.

He’s pulled from his train of thought, suddenly, by a claw lightly scratching through his hair. Oh, god, he thinks, I’m done for. He shivers involuntarily, the sensation of Rocky’s fingers running through the hair on the back of his head, the nape of his neck— it’s overwhelming, to say the least. He tries to control the speed at which he’s breathing, tries so hard to seem normal about this.

“Grace,” Rocky hums into him. “My Grace.”

To hell with acting normal, Grace can’t take this. He groans, his heart pounding out of his chest. He knows Rocky can hear it, can hear every shaky breath and thick swallow. Grace hasn’t been touched like this in years. It’s so gentle, so intentional that Grace thinks he’s going to pass out. Pair that with the way Rocky is purring his name, well… he never really stood a chance.

“Grace hair so soft,” Rocky says, fingers still scratching into Grace’s scalp in a way that makes him want to pant like a dog. “Could not feel before. Now Rocky can feel all of Grace. So soft, wet leaky human. Grace like, question?” 

He digs his nails into Rocky’s carapace through the suit without thinking. “Yeah, bud. I like a lot. A lot. You knocked this birthday gift thing outta the park.”

Rocky trills happily, wiggling slightly in Grace’s arms. “Happy happy happy! Grace birthday gift also function as gift for Rocky too. Wanted to know what Grace felt like better. Rocky was right— Grace feel good good good.” 

It’s probably not normal that Grace feels a particular stirring below the belt at that, knowing that this was partially self-indulgent for Rocky. And he keeps telling Grace how good he feels, how soft he is. It’s making certain parts of him… less soft.

“Glad you think so,” Grace manages to get out. He should back up; he needs to go splash some cold water on his crotch or something before Rocky notices. It’s wholly inappropriate, the way that this was meant to be a sentimental moment and Grace is ruining it by accidentally figuring out some things about himself at the same time. 

“Grace heart beat fast, statement,” Rocky notes. “Breathing fast, too. Blood flow going down— Grace have fainting spell, question?” 

Rocky sounds concerned, and while Grace appreciates it, the acknowledgment of his current state is not helping. The blood isn’t going to his legs, it’s going to his… well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? To Rocky it’s apparently not. Of course he would think the downward rush of blood is due to Grace’s condition. What else has it ever been until now?

“Just, uh. Just a little hot, bud.” Grace pulls away slightly, and he’s not wrong. There’s beads of sweat on his forehead from being pressed up against the heat of Rocky’s body. “Not gonna pass out, don’t worry.” He’s glad he still has a blanket covering his lap.

“Rocky will be here to catch, statement. Rocky always catch Grace.” 

And dang, if that doesn’t do something to Grace’s little heart. He feels himself tear up again, and he yanks his glasses off to swipe at his eyes, cursing himself for being such a baby. He doesn’t try to ignore the way it makes him feel this time, the butterflies under his ribs threatening to explode out of him. It’s been months of Grace trying to quell them. He’s convinced himself time and time again that it doesn’t mean anything, or that he’s crazy, or maybe even sick. Never, not once back on Earth did he ever feel like this about someone. He would lie to himself over and over again that he loved someone, failing to truly feel what he wished he could feel. And now that he’s actually feeling that way about someone, he’s been trying to convince himself that he doesn’t. What the hell is wrong with him?

For starters, the first time he’s ever had feelings beyond the platonic kind for anyone, it’s for an alien. A rock alien, with no discernable face, no features the average human would find attractive, and much, much older than him.

Grace always thought he must be the single most vanilla person in existence. Judging by the way his cock is currently standing at half-mast just from the sheer idea of Rocky’s claw grabbing his hair and yanking his head back to keep him still while he—

God. Yeah. Grace was never vanilla, was he?

“Grace make pained sound,” Rocky says, snapping Grace back to reality once again. “Grace hurt, question? Suit too hot, question?”

Grace fully pulls away from Rocky, leaving his hands to rest on Rocky’s forearms where he still has his hands on Grace’s shoulders. He traces a finger over one of Rocky’s engravings absentmindedly. He hadn’t realized he’d made any sort of noise when thinking about Rocky’s hand in his hair. Oops. 

“No, no,” he says, giving a reassuring squeeze to Rocky’s arms. “It’s perfect. You’re a genius.”

“Rocky know this, but thank.”

Grace laughs. “Hey, I need to eat, but how long can you stay in that suit for? Wanna watch a movie?”

Rocky chirps, bouncing with delight. “Can stay in suit up to six hours. Rocky will continue to improve over time.”

Grace nods, pushing himself up slowly. Usually he would place a hand on a wall or a nearby table to assist, but this time, Rocky holds his hands to steady him as he rises. He’s so solid, and it’s easy for him to support some of Grace’s weight. Heck, it would be easy for him to support all of Grace’s weight.

“Whaddya say we keep the retro movie streak going?” he asks. “You haven’t watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off yet, right?”

Grace has been dreading this from the moment he regained his memories. It stopped being a concern once he was sure that he was going to die, but then it looped right back around to being a big concern when he found out he was going to, in fact, live. He’s always been decent at managing it; lots of electrolytes, compression socks, and as decent a diet as he could afford on a teacher’s salary. In space, though, you don’t get electrolytes. You don’t get compression socks. Or at least, those on a suicide mission don’t. And his decent diet is being rationed to the extreme so that he can make it to Erid without starving to death. He’s desperately trying to avoid consuming the coma slurry while not in a coma for as long as he possibly can. 

It’s been a little over six months since Rocky made his xenonite suit, and since then, they’ve barely been able to keep apart for more than a couple hours. The only time they really stray from each other is when Rocky has to take the suit off for a bit to breathe a little in his actual atmosphere. It reminds Grace of how some old friends of his explained the honeymoon phase in a relationship— not being able to keep your hands off each other, constantly having deep conversations, always laughing, and having sex more often than not. 

Well, it’s almost the same.

Ever since the moment Rocky made his dick stiffen up for the first time in years, Grace hasn’t been able to keep the locks on his imagination. He feels like a horny teenager again, all this pent up energy and nowhere to put it. He can’t get himself off because Rocky will hear him, and he can’t do it while Rocky’s asleep because that’s too weird, especially since he’d be getting off to Rocky. Ugh.

He must be doing a pretty good job of hiding it, though, because Rocky has shown absolutely no signs of noticing. They spend so much time together—attached at the hip, really—and Rocky doesn’t say anything when Grace feels that all too familiar rush of blood to his groin.

But sometimes he wonders. When they’re watching a movie, or Grace is reading a book out loud, or they’re working on something together in the lab and Grace lets himself trace his fingers over the etchings on Rocky’s arms, or drift across the moving tiles at the top of his carapace, he’ll catch the low noises Rocky makes in response. He’ll shiver just a little, and his vents will rise and fall a bit faster. It’s enough to make Grace think, Does he understand what I’m trying to convey? Does he know I need him more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life?

No, Grace tells himself. He would never be that lucky.

But here he finds himself, staring up at the ceiling of the lab, Rocky’s nervous hands fluttering all over him in distress as he tries to bring Grace back to the land of the living. He doesn’t remember how he got down here. He was just squatting down to grab something out of a cabinet and— oh, that tracks. His heart is beating wildly, sweat dripping down the side of his face. He had passed out. 

“Grace okay, question?” Rocky asks frantically, noticing that Grace has opened his eyes. His claws come to rest on either side of Grace’s face, then one on his forehead to push his hair back away from the sweat coating it. “Grace answer Rocky, statement!”

“Augh,” he says, blinking away his confusion. “‘M okay, Rock.” He pauses, lifting a hand to his own head to feel around for any bumps or blood. “I’m okay, right?”

“Rocky caught Grace before Grace could hit ground,” Rocky explains. Grace sighs in relief. “Told Grace I would always catch.”

His chest feels warm, and he realizes that it’s not just because Rocky’s words made him feel good. One of his hands is resting on his chest, claws tapping lightly against his sternum. The sensation is a welcome one.

“Never should’ve doubted you, pal,” Grace says with a soft laugh. “Sorry to give you a scare. Stood up too fast, I guess.”

“Grace not get enough food, statement. Nutrients low. Electrolytes very low.”

Grace takes a deep breath, willing his heart rate to slow down and his mild tremors to lessen. He forgot how much he hates fainting; it always leaves him feeling like he’s got the stomach flu afterward. “Armando, wa— oh, thanks.” Rocky reaches up and gets a cup of water from the table next to them, handing it to Grace while he helps him to sit up. His hand is still tap tap tapping away on his chest.

He sips the water, fighting back every urge to barf. “You know that I have to space it out,” he says. “It sucks, but I have to make sure that I can survive all the way to Erid. If I pass out a few times here and there, so be it. Just don’t let me hit my head on the way down, please.”

Rocky huffs. “Grace know Rocky would never.” 

A quiet moment falls between them while Grace gets his bearings again. God, how embarrassing. He’ll never be allowed to get anything from any cabinet that isn’t above hip level again if Rocky has anything to say about it, and he’s certain that he does. He’ll worry about that later, though. For right now, he’ll just drink his water and allow Rocky to watch over him. Like he always does.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Rocky breaks it by asking, carefully, “Grace skeleton… much more prominent, statement. Not as much soft squishy flesh to cover.”

Oh, so that’s what that’s about. Rocky can feel that Grace has lost weight—a pretty significant amount of weight, if he’s being honest—and he’s worried for him. He feels a pang of guilt for making him worry, but it’s not like he can help it. He knew this would happen. Besides, it’s not like Grace is sickly thin or anything. Yet, at least. He’s just not as beefy as he once was, and some of his bones are more visible than they used to be. He’s always had a remarkably prominent bone structure to begin with. Even when he was at his most muscular, his hip bones still protruded. It’s just more obvious now.

“Yeah,” he affirms, nodding slowly. He tilts his head at Rocky, curious as to what else he could be thinking about. His tremor has died down almost entirely at this point, and the nausea subsided. “That’s what happens when humans eat less than we’re supposed to. Weight goes down, heart works a little harder. For me, especially.” He cracks a smile. “I’ll be fine, though! Might be a little scary for a while until we get to Erid, but I’m sure the doctors there will patch me right back up.”

Rocky is still. Completely unmoving, the tapping on Grace’s chest no longer. Grace stares at him, brow furrowing in concern.

“You good, Rock?”

He seems to buffer for a second, shaking his carapace and then flattening his hand against Grace’s chest again. “Rocky have request. Might seem strange to human Grace.”

Grace blinks. “Okay, shoot.”

“Rocky wants to feel Grace skeleton,” he says simply. “Want to touch. Curious about human skeletal structure. Usually covered by many layers of fat and muscle.”

Grace feels his lips stretch into a grin, his eyes narrowing at Rocky. “Not so concerned about my health, huh? Just wanna touch my bones for science?”

“Rocky concerned, statement!” he says, indignant. “Rocky always concerned for Grace. Especially now. But Rocky wants to take opportunity to study. Feel skeleton, take notes, know how Grace function better.”

If Grace didn’t know any better, he would think that Rocky was trying to make up an excuse to cop a feel. Get a big ol’ handful of Grace. But of course he’s not. Rocky does most things in the name of science, so why would this be any different?

Grace tries not to feel too disappointed at the thought.

“Okay,” he nods. “Go for it. Get in on these bones, man.”

Again, Rocky rolls his non-existent eyes. “Grace sure feeling okay, question? Can do this another time.”

“No, no, I’m fine now. Feeling great.” Please touch me. Please.

Rock nods his carapace. “Grace take shirt off, request. For more informative experience.”

Grace feels his cheeks heat up. “Sure thing.” He reaches down to pull his shirt off. The cold air of the lab is welcome right now, especially after having just fainted. He still shivers, though, and his skin prickles with goosebumps.

Rocky, situated next to him on the floor, lays his hand back on Grace’s sternum, pausing there for a moment and tapping once again. 

“Grace heart still go fast fast fast,” he notes. “Fainting do this, question?”

Grace swallows. “Uh, yeah. Uh-huh.” Keep going, please, touch me everywhere.

Rocky’s hand slides up from his sternum to the base of his throat, right between his collarbones. Another one of his hands comes up, and Rocky places the tips of his claws right on his collarbone, slowly tracing them out toward his shoulders. Grace shivers, grateful that he’s leaned up against a cold steel table. He feels hot, and Rocky’s proximity is not helping.

“Collarbone,” he says dumbly. Rocky probably already knows what they’re called, but he needed to say something. “Or, uh, the clavicle.”

“What is function, question?” 

“It stabilizes the shoulders,” Grace explains, even though, again, he’s almost certain that Rocky already knows all of this. He must just be humoring him. Letting him feel like he’s teaching him something. “Protects some nerves, and blood vessels. That kind of thing.”

Rocky hums in acknowledgement. His fingers continue to trace up and down Grace’s collarbone, tapping at certain intervals. It’s all Grace can do not to let his breath hitch from the pleasant tickle. From his collarbone, Rocky move a hand north, sliding up alongside Grace’s adam’s apple. It bobs as he swallows, and he feels Rocky run one of his claws over it gently.

“Not a bone,” Grace says thickly. “Adam’s apple. Protects the voice box.”

“Apology,” Rocky says. “Rocky distracted.”

Whoa. Grace wants to ask why, wants to know what’s got Rocky all spaced out like Grace typically is, but before he can get a word in, Rocky’s hand is suddenly at his jaw, tipping his head back and gripping his chin. Grace bites back a moan, feeling blood pool in his groin again. Rocky uses his grip on Grace’s chin to move his head side to side a couple times, tapping his claws against his jawline where he holds it. He’s getting a real good look at him, and Grace has never felt more on display. 

Finally, Rocky lets go of his chin and simply allows his claw to glide up along his jawline, stopping underneath his ear before stroking back down. Grace holds back a pathetic sound, biting down on his tongue. 

Seemingly satisfied, Rocky pulls his arm back from Grace’s face, and Grace wants to whimper at the loss of contact. Jiminy Christmas, he’s so gone. 

“Rocky see Grace back, request?”

Grace nods, turning himself around so that his back is facing Rocky. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself to keep his composure and praying that Rocky doesn’t notice his full blown hard-on now.

He feels pressure on his lower spine, then a bit higher, and a bit higher— he realizes that Rocky is touching each knob in his spine individually, making his way up. It feels so intimate, and Grace can’t stop himself from welling up. He sniffles, bringing a knee up so he can rest his head on it while Rocky feels his way up his spine. 

“Why Grace leaky, question? Want Rocky to stop?” He pauses in the middle of his spine, and Grace shakes his head quickly.

“No, please,” he rasps. “Keep going. Feels nice.”

Rocky resumes his exploration. Up, up, up. “If feel nice, why Grace leak?”

Grace chokes out a pathetic laugh, wiping his tears away. That’s enough of that. “Humans rely really heavily on physical connection,” he says. “It helps us. Relieves stress, all that jazz. I haven’t… No one has really touched me in a long time.” He pauses, face flushed, and quietly adds, “Not like this.”

Rocky is quiet for a moment, his claw at the top of his spine now, drifting over to his shoulder. Another hand comes up, and simultaneously, they trace down over his shoulder blades, curving along with the bone. Grace involuntarily flexes, a soft groan escaping him. 

“Rocky touch Grace like this whenever Grace wants.” Grace exhales heavily through his nose, forehead still resting on his knee. “Grace deserve to feel nice.”

“It’s fine,” Grace says, fighting for his darn life at this point. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Stupid stupid stupid. Rocky ask to do this. Want touch Grace, make Grace feel nice.”

“I thought this was for scientific purposes.”

“…Two things true at once.”

Grace almost laughs, but the realization that, once again, Rocky is doing something like this partially for selfish reasons is overwhelming to him. His mouth goes dry. Thank goodness for that water. 

“Grace less soft soft squishy,” Rocky sings. “But not too much. Still plenty of soft, soft Grace. My Grace.”

“God,” Grace breathes. He’s losing it. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life. “Yeah, your Grace.”

Rocky hums in delight, his hands running down his spine once before trailing back up and suddenly, there’s a rough hand in his hair and it’s pulling—not too rough, but just enough to make Grace gasp and allow himself to be yanked back. He manages to glance down at his lower half, and oh, boy, it’s clear as day that he’s fully erect. The bulge in his pants says so.

One of Rocky’s hands is suddenly on him again, splaying over his lower abdomen. The other is fisted in his hair still, and Grace is aware now that he’s very shirtless, very hard, and laying more or less in Rocky’s lap. While Rocky holds him there. He couldn’t get up even if he tried, and boy did that do something to him. His cock twitched within the confines of his pants at the thought. 

“Grace have bone Rocky was unaware of, statement,” Rocky says, and Grace can hear the shit eating grin in his tone. 

“Don’t you dare act like you don’t know what that is,” Grace snaps weakly. “You— You’re evil. You knew what you were doing to me. It’s for science! Bullcrap.”

Rocky laughs, the repetitive chirping noise music to Grace’s ears. “Grace likes it.”

He doesn’t know why he shakes his head in denial. It’s not like Rocky doesn’t have enough proof right there in his lap. His claws tap lightly over where they rest on his abdomen, right below his navel. Grace reaches up and grips Rocky’s arm, just to hold onto something. To ground himself. He’s lightheaded again, but in a good way. A really good way.

“Grace heart beats fast fast fast when in close proximity to Rocky,” Rocky states. “Reproductive organ get stiff and hard. Grace think Rocky not notice, but Rocky does.”

Well, there goes the blissful ignorance that Grace had been riding on for months. His face heats up, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He tries to lift his head a little, but Rocky tightens his grip and tugs him back down. A frustrated moan escapes him. 

“Rocky want to see how long before Grace give in,” he says with a shrug, and Grace scowls at him. “But Rocky sick of waiting. Rocky know touch makes Grace feel good, so Rocky touch Grace.”

Oh, he’s going to kill this guy. This entire time, this was a waiting game? Rocky was enjoying it? He fights against every urge in his body telling him to get a hand on his erection, just for some relief, and clenches his fist at his side, nails digging into his palm. He’s throbbing in his pants, and it’s all he can do not to start humping the air like a horned up animal.

“Grace aroused, statement,” Rocky trills. “Grace want Rocky to touch more, question?”

“Yes, please,” he gasps out, his grip on Rocky’s arm tightening. He’s given up. He doesn’t care about anything else other than getting Rocky’s hands on him again. “Need it, Rock. Need you.”

Rocky purrs at that, his grip in his hair loosening. “Grace sit up, command.” He pauses. “Slowly. Rocky no want Grace to faint again.”

Grace’s head swims, the direct order paired with the tender concern making him feel like he’s in a dream where he’s getting everything he ever wanted, that he didn’t even know he wanted. He sits up, slowly like Rocky asked, missing the feeling of Rocky’s hand in his hair. He leans up against the cabinets nearby, legs splayed out in front of him. He’s breathing hard and he knows he probably looks a mess; flushed skin, mussed up hair, tent in his pants. He can’t recall a time he’s ever been in a similar position. Leave it to a rock alien to get him going like this.

“Good good good,” Rocky says happily. “Grace look so pretty like this. Rocky like when Grace do what Rocky tells him.”

Grace groans at the praise, reaching up to take his glasses off and toss them to the side. He should probably be more careful with them as they’re his only pair, but he couldn’t give less of a crap right now. 

“What if I don’t?” he asks, feeling brave.

Rocky tilts his carapace in confusion. “What mean, question?”

“What if I don’t do what you tell me?” Grace says slowly. “What if I want to stand? Or lay down? Or—“

Just as Grace is making a move to raise himself up, a hand on the counter behind him for leverage, he feels himself being pinned back down faster than he can even process it. He blinks, and Rocky is standing between his legs, two of his claws clamped down on Grace’s thighs and one claw wrapped around Grace’s wrist above his head against the counter where he’d tried to pull himself up. Grace feels like he got the breath punched out of his lungs, the rush of arousal making him dizzy. He can’t move. Rocky won’t let him move.

“Grace think that option, question?” Rocky asks, amused. “Funny human. Grace always listen to Rocky.”

Grace finds himself nodding before he can stop himself. “Okay. Okay, Rock. You got me. Can you… can you please just touch me?” 

“If Grace promise to be good,” Rocky says. “Grace promise to sit for Rocky, question?”

He swallows. “I promise. I’ll be good.”

Rocky sings a happy little tune, and Grace is overcome with how much he just absolutely loves him. He can’t imagine how he made it 34 years without him. Doesn’t even want to fathom the idea of the rest of his life without him. It’s just not an option in Grace’s mind. He wonders if Rocky feels the same. 

Rocky releases Grace’s wrist, bringing it back down to his stomach, resting right over the waistline of his pants. He takes a moment to trace over to one hipbone, then the other, making Grace’s hips twitch upward in need. 

“Still part science, statement,” Rocky says, and Grace almost laughs. “Grace body beautiful, even if it smaller now. Rocky want.”

Grace gazes down at where Rocky’s hands now grip his hips, one claw on each hand digging into his hipbones. He tries not to think about Rocky holding him like this from behind, the underside of his carapace split open and ovipositor fucking into him—

“Grace want too,” he blurts. “Grace wants so bad, Rocky, please— ah!”

Rocky’s got a hand on his cock over his pants, and the sudden pressure is so welcome and so needed that Grace nearly sobs with relief. He bumps his head back against the cabinets, eyes squeezing shut because he thinks if he looks at where Rocky’s hand meets his erection, he’ll come right then and there. 

He might still come too early, judging by the way he’s reacting to a simple grasp over his clothes. He bucks his hips up as much as he can into Rocky’s touch, needy and pathetic. Rocky squeezes down on him lightly, moving his claw up and down just the slightest bit. Has he been researching how to do this? He has to have been. 

“Grace,” Rocky says, and Grace opens his eyes to peer at him. “Rocky want to see, statement.”

Grace wastes no time in fumbling for the front of his pants, unzipping himself and reaching into his boxers to pull his achingly hard cock out. It slaps against his stomach obscenely, precum already oozing out the tip. His own hand rests over it, cupping himself.

“Grace touch himself, request?” 

“Oh, god, yeah,” Grace exhales slowly. “You want to watch?”

Rocky makes a delighted humming noise. “Rocky watch first. See how Grace does it.”

“You got it, bud.” Grace wraps a hand eagerly around himself, a choked off moan escaping his lips. Rocky’s hands rest at his thighs, fingers tapping away at him in order to get a closer look. It makes him feel crazy, the way Rocky is so attentive. It makes him believe he’s worth something. 

“Grace so beautiful,” Rocky states, his own voice sounding far away. Wistful, almost. Grace’s hand speeds up, his teeth gritting together as a bolt of pleasure zaps right through him. “Rocky so lucky. Lucky lucky lucky. I get to see Grace so pretty and ♪♪♫♪♫♪♫.”

“Ngh, need word, Rock,” Grace pants, squeezing himself at his base. If he doesn’t slow down, he’s going to finish way sooner than he wants to.

“Weak, sensitive,” Rocky explains.

“Vulnerable?” Grace supplies, shivering at the implication. 

“Vulnerable, vulnerable!” Rocky chitters happily. “Rocky like Grace like this, statement.”

Grace feels a hand drag through his hair, scratching over his scalp, and he keens, dick jumping in his hand and begging him for more stimulation. He resumes his movements, stroking himself quickly, hips bucking up into his fist. He feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and nearly curses himself for being so pathetic. 

“Rocky, I need— Please touch me, Rock, I need it so bad, never needed anything more—“

The hand in his hair ceases its soft ministrations to grip tightly, pulling Grace’s head to the side. And then Rocky’s other hand is swatting Grace’s away, and finally, finally, wrapping around his cock. 

“Jesus— Rocky, yes, yes yes yes, don’t stop,” he sobs, watching as Rocky’s claw moves deftly up and down his cock. He’s leaking so much precum onto his stomach, all over Rocky’s hand as he jerks him off, and Rocky just keeps purring. 

“My leaky Grace,” he says lovingly. “Makes Rocky leak too.”

Grace’s interest is piqued through the haze of pleasure wracking his body currently, and he manages to glance down to the underside of Rocky’s carapace, and oh, golly, does he need a moment. With how close Rocky is to him, and how limited his range of motion is in his neck right now due to Rocky’s hold on his hair, he can barely see it, but it’s there; silver liquid coating the inside of the xenonite suit underneath Rocky. Liquid mercury. Rocky’s wet. 

“Oh my god,” Grace moans. “I wanna see more, Rocky. You gotta let me see it. Let me see how wet you are.”

Rocky’s graceful strokes over his cock suddenly stutter, his rhythm disrupted by, seemingly, Grace’s words. Grace feels a certain smugness at that, proud of himself for being able to make Rocky falter a bit. He smiles, lifting a shaky hand up underneath Rocky, and slowly dragging a finger over the underside of his carapace. It’s even hotter under here than the rest of Rocky’s body, which makes sense given that liquid metal is literally seeping out of him. It’s not too hot, though, so Grace presses harder against the seam he can feel there that’s starting to split open. He wonders if he can—

“♪♫♯♪!” Rocky squeals, his vents releasing copious amounts of steam as Grace’s finger breaks past the seam. He’s hardly inside Rocky, but he has to imagine that any sort of intrusion like this outside of eating would feel pretty intense. The suit stretches inward with his finger, and it feels sort of like a textured condom. Or Grace imagines it does. He’s never had the pleasure of using one before.

“How Rocky supposed to focus on Grace if Grace touch there, question?” Rocky asks, pointedly speeding up his strokes along Grace’s cock in revenge. 

“You can—ah, ah—you can invent things no human has ever dreamed of, and—oh, hmm—save your planet, but you can’t multitask during sex?” Grace teases between moans. “Sounds like we need to practice more.”

More steam escapes Rocky’s vents. “Yes, yes, practice more, request. Grace close, question?” 

“So close,” Grace answers through his teeth. Rocky’s hand is carding through his hair again instead of holding onto it, and Grace is working on getting another finger inside Rocky. The seam has split open a decent amount, now, and Grace is starting to trace his insides with intent, feeling more liquid mercury gush into the suit. “God, Rocky, I wanna— I wanna fuck you so bad, wanna be inside you, need to be inside you,” he babbles. It’s probably not a great idea, honestly, Rocky most likely hasn’t tested the stretch of the suit to that extent.

“Grace ♩♫♪♪ inside Rocky,” Rocky stutters out, his vocalizations ragged and strained. “Grace can. Grace can be inside Rocky, suit can handle stretch!”

Grace blinks, hardly able to comprehend his words. The seam is entirely open around his fingers. “Are you— are you serious?”

“Yes!” Rocky insists, voice high pitched and desperate. “Grace inside Rocky, now now now, command, Rocky promise it safe—”

“Oh thank god, Rocky, just—” Grace replaces Rocky’s hand on his cock with his own, holding the base of it so Rocky can bring himself forward and slide right down onto it. “Fuck!”

Grace has never felt like this before. This is the single hottest thing he’s ever seen, ever felt, ever done. His arms are wrapped around Rocky’s carapace, and Rocky’s arms wrapped around him. He feels them tapping along his spine and sliding over his ribs and Grace thinks he’s going to melt away entirely from how warm he is. He chokes out another sob against Rocky, rolling his hips to rut deeper into his soft insides. The suit is doing its job well, to Grace’s relief. 

“Grace so good, so good good good inside Rocky,” Rocky coos, claws running through his hair as Grace fucks him. “Rocky feel so nice, statement. Grace make pretty noises, make Rocky feel need to mate. Practice more, and Rocky put eggs in Grace one day.”

“Uh-huh,” Grace nods dumbly against Rocky. “Want that too, Rock.”

Rocky purrs, the vibrations causing Grace to let out a high-pitched whine, which under any other circumstances he would be mortified about. Instead, he just continues to thrust into Rocky, so close to coming he can’t stand it. 

“Grace put eggs in Rocky this time,” he says. “Give Rocky all, statement.”

Grace feels tears streaming down his cheeks as his thrusts pick up speed and Rocky’s vocalizations reach a pitch he’s not even sure he can hear anymore. He’s so close, he’s so close—

“Rocky, Rocky, I’m gonna— please let me, inside you—”

“Grace ♩♫♪♪ inside, command, inside Rocky now now now—”

Grace’s vision completely whites out on him as he comes, shooting off rope after rope inside Rocky against the suit. “Fuck, Rocky, love you so much, take it for me,” he babbles, shaking and twitching in Rocky’s arms. He feels Rocky stiffen up, the vents on top of his carapace working on overtime to vent the excessive amounts of steam exiting him. Rocky clenches down, then, and wails out a high-pitched tune that Grace might have needed to cover his ears for, if he wasn’t so out of it. The feeling of Rocky clenching around him as he rides out the final moments of his orgasm sends a deep shiver through his frame, one last whimper leaving his throat. He slumps against Rocky, exhausted.

“Grace,” comes Rocky’s voice, tired and weak. “Rocky need move so not crush you. Need collapse.”

Grace’s eyes flutter open, and he processes what Rocky said. “Oh, oh god, sorry.” he removes his weight from Rocky’s carapace and allows him to lift himself off Grace, rolling over to the side and folding his legs underneath him. “That can’t be comfortable to sit in,” Grace points out, gazing at the mercury trapped in Rocky’s suit. He sees the puddle of his own filth on the floor between his legs, partially on his pants. “Man. That was crazy, Rock.”

Rocky hums lazily. Grace takes a moment to stuff himself back into his pants, worried about cleaning up at a later time. He rolls onto his side to partially encircle Rocky, laying a hand on his carapace and rubbing in circles lightly. 

“Grace… mean what Grace say?”

Grace blinks, unsure of what Rocky is referring to before he remembers his babbling at the end. He flushes, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, yeah. Is that okay? I mean— I know you have Adrian, and sure, you guys aren’t exclusive, but… I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything just because I feel some kind of way.”

Grace thinks that if Rocky wasn’t so worn out, he would be bouncing out of sheer happiness and doing his jazz hands. But instead, all he can muster is a series of delighted chirping tones, and to lean his carapace into Grace’s hand.

“Adrian will love Grace, no worry about that,” he assures. “Rocky loves Grace too, statement. Want mate with Grace for long time, but Grace not seem comfortable with it. Rocky could not wait any more.”

Grace chuckles. How could he have been so oblivious? “Glad you caved, bud,” he says softly. “And I’m glad you feel the same. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle rejection in this close proximity like that. How about we get you out of that suit, now?”

“In little bit. Rocky want after ♫♩♩ cuddle, like in Earth movies.”
Grace isn’t sure exactly which movies he’s talking about, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. 

They need to rest. There’s a lot more practice to be had.