Chapter Text
“And that, my dear pebbles, will conclude today’s lesson.”
Grace loved these kids. Really, he did. Just as much as he’d loved his human kids. Only this class — the Eridian one — seemed to love class a little too much.
That made it sound like he’d been a terrible professor on Earth. He wasn’t — he hoped, anyway. It wasn’t that his Earth class despised his lessons. They seemed to enjoy it, sort of. As much as any human kids could enjoy school, really. Or perhaps he was simply projecting what he wished were true upon a memory. Hopefully it was the former of the options.
Either way, his Earth children certainly hadn’t acted this way when class was cut early.
The class behind xenonite glass erupted in a cacophony of unintelligible whines and groans.
“I know, I know!” Grace clicked away on the organ. The pebbles understood basic spoken English by now. And yet, he continued to utilize the instrument.
Imagine trying to learn alien science in an alien language. Grace most certainly couldn’t imagine it. He assumed it would be easier for them to wrap their minds around the subjects if they were taught to them in their native language.
“Terrible! I know, but this gives you extra time to study with your study-buddies!” Grace hoped the term was just as fun in the Eridian language. They seemed to enjoy the act, at least.
Eridian processing was impeccable — two could be speaking at once and not only understand what was said, but also retain it. This made group projects far more efficient and, therefore, finished much more quickly than the ones he’d given on Earth.
Perhaps this was the very reason none of them quite believed him.
“Professor Grace is a terrible liar!” One pebble shout from the very back of the class. Quite similar to the igneous rock found on Earth, he’d dubbed that one Indiana — as in, the Jones.
“Why end class so early?” Another interjected — Sparrow. Grace had always enjoyed both birds and the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. Two with one stone, he supposed — no pun intended.
And just as foreseen, a certain outspoken pebble had something to say about it: “Because Professor Grace is leaving to go see his mate! Human Simon!” Dunkin. Grace could be certain it was him even without sight. Dunkin, a small yet horribly feisty pebble. He had something to say about everything and was often the center of class disruption.
The thought behind this particular pebble's name was… convoluted.
Dunkin almost appeared to be a sort of granite, adorned by specks of pink and orange. It reminded him much of his birth state, the Granite State. And what pink and orange company populated much of said state, and likewise, which surrounded it? Dunkin' Donuts, that was. And it seemed, by sheer coincidence, that Dunkin — the pebble, that is — shared much of the personality of the people who consumed his namesake; direct and deeply pragmatic. If Grace had taught them English curses, he was confident Dunkin would utilize them much the same, as well.
Man, Grace missed coffee with an absurd amount of syrup and sugar. Hardly coffee by that point, but delicious as anything. Probably unhealthy, too.
The class erupted once more in a bout of whispered gossip and shock. It looked as though Dunkin was quite pleased with himself, the way he jutted out his carapace.
“No, no,” Grace waved a dismissive hand while the other played, “I’m not going to— how do you even—“ The notes were broken; the Eridian equivalent of an embarrassed vocal quiver. It sent the cluster into a fit of giggles.
They knew about Simon; there wasn’t an Eridian on Erid that did not know of the two humans inhabiting their planet; that much he was aware of. But how did they know—
Rocky.
Gossip was a paramount part of Eridian culture, not unlike that of high schoolers. There was a reason he taught middle school. People talked; things got messy. He preferred the simpler problems of younger children.
Though he couldn’t blame Eridians for the spread of gossip. Not really. Not when auditory input was so important to them. Biologically and culturally speaking.
What he could blame was the source: Rocky.
He couldn’t be completely sure — but he was almost certain. Maybe, somewhere around the eighty percent mark. Perhaps eighty-five. Yeah, eighty-five sounded better.
Rocky would have something stern to pay later, that was for sure. One-hundred percent sure.
“Alright, quiet now!” No response. It was time for desperate measures. He plucked the small, wooden thing from his desk.
Grace, admittedly, wasn’t sure what it was actually called on Earth. He’d just always called it The Croaker — and it was the very same he’d had with his human class. A bittersweet feeling. Stratt, presumably, had sent The Croaker along with his other Earthly possessions. The very little he had, anyway.
The pebbles called it another name — probably an Eridian creature that sounded similar. He’d have to inquire about it from Rocky. After he was finished being ticked with him, anyway.
Its name, in English, was quite self-explanatory. As it had, indeed, done just as it stated. The class quieted almost immediately, as Grace drew the stick along its ridged spine.
It was impeccable how such a simple method worked on two completely unrelated species across light-years. Man, Grace loved being a teacher.
“Professor Grace is not going to see his— mate!” He hesitated on the word for a moment, but swiftly decided against the use of any other. He didn’t have time to explain terms like boyfriends to alien children. “I have important matters to attend to.” It was not exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “And for that, I am deeply sorry.” This, however, was very much the truth. He didn’t enjoy seeing the pebbles in such distress.
Another eruption of woes.
Grace played with one hand, while The Croaker occupied the other, “But I promise to see you all tomorrow!”
The scuttling of claws exiting the cave was anything but willing.
A deep breath, as Grace placed The Croaker back down upon his desk. He glanced back up at what he presumed to be an empty classroom. It very much was not, he’d come to find.
He spoke now, his own voice, “Hey, kiddo,” a force of habit, though the pebbles seemed to understand the sentiment. “What’s up?”
Padmé — her namesake was quite straightforward, big Star Wars fan, he was — was a soft-spoken pebble, one of the smallest he’d ever seen. Though soft-spoken should not be confused with shy, for Padmé was very much not.
The purple pebble tapped her claw twice, and Grace prepared himself for a question: “Will Professor Grace ever bring his mate to meet the class?”
Wow. Well, that certainly hadn’t been what he was expecting.
“Uh,” Grace began. Oh, boy, how was he to approach this? “Maybe,” he shrugged, a sort of limp movement, “We’ll see!” That was a good teacher-like response. Just enough uncertain as it was plausible. It was best to never give a straight answer when it came to these things. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.
Padmé’s carapace practically jittered with excitement, “I hope! I hope the class gets to meet Professor Grace’s mate!”
Grace couldn’t help the look of awe that overcame him.
He bid a farewell to the very last of his class. And for a moment, he nearly regretted cutting class early. Soon, however, excitement overcame him.
As though on queue, to put a damper on his excitement, “Is class finished?”
Oh. Oh, boy.
“Rocky,” Grace began, pointedly. Though truly, it was only just the start, “You have some explaining to do.”
Confrontation first. Then he’d inquire about a possible Eridian animal comparable to a frog. Then he could allow himself to feel excitement once more.
But first things first.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Did you, or did you not, go around telling everyone about Simon and me?”
Grace wasn’t actually mad. He knew this, and Rocky understood it much the same. It was hard to be actually angry with someone you spent every waking moment with for the better half of a decade.
“Hmm, I don't remember,” he seemed to ponder, tapping his chin with a single claw — or whatever the Eridian version of a chin was. Whatever the lower half of his carapace was called.
Sometimes, Grace thought Rocky seemed more human than Eridian. The things he said, the way he acted — all vaguely similar to the things actors did — was overly dramatic, with a flair of sass.
Maybe it really was those darn screens. Or maybe he simply got it from Grace, who knows, really. For once, he understood parents blaming everything on technology and media. It was, of course, the easiest option.
“You’re a terrible liar. Downright horrible, I must say.” Grace leaned against his desk, accompanied by an all-too-dramatic head tilt. Yeah, maybe it was all from him. “How do you expect me to believe that? You literally cannot forget.”
Rocky’s carapace sank to the ground; something Grace could only equate to the upward hitch of shoulders. A nervous, compliant movement.
“Fine,” Rocky began, defeatedly, “I told Adrian. Simon also told Adrian, he says. Not about your plan, just relationship.”
Despite gossip being of utmost importance to Eridian culture, Adrian just didn’t strike Grace as the type. He waved his hand in a sort of so-forth movement, “Go on.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I might have also told my engineering partner, Drax.”
Grace was a comic kid — sue him. He wondered, briefly, if Eridians would still feel grateful for their gifted English names if they learned where they were from.
By any means, it made him realize just how much media he’d consumed on Earth. Man, what he wouldn’t give to read another comic. Even another book.
Grace only stared forth, leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
“Fine. I also told Frodo.”
Yeah, Grace really missed books. Physical ones, that was. The kind where he could smell the paper, feel beneath his fingers.
“And Frodo might have told his mate.”
A languid sigh, “And it somehow got to the pebbles. It’s fine, just tell the whole planet my business, I guess!”
“I couldn’t help it!” Rocky waved his claws around defensively, “I’m happy for you! Very happy! I want everyone to be happy for you, too!” He was practically swooning now, shifting his weight between limbs.
“It's fine, Rock, I get it.” Grace huffed a laugh. He began to gather his things and put them in their place. “But I… think he’s catching onto me.”
“But you’ve been careful.”
“Yeah,” Grace scoffed, a sort of halfway noise, “Apparently not enough. If the pebbles could spot me in a lie, I’m sure Simon could, too.”
“Yeah, you are terrible at lying.”
“Well—“ Grace sputtered, “So are you! Anyways, it’s not really lying. It’s just conveniently shielding the truth until a later date…”
Rocky chittered, and Grace glared.
“Ready to start preparing, now?” Rocky chirped, “Reconstruction is complete, just waiting on you to decide what to do.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”
They began towards the direction of the Hail Mary — no longer anything more than a glorified storage unit, located at the very backmost of the dome. It had been easier, in the beginning, to build around the ship rather than to attempt to relocate him from the ship to the dome.
It worked out, though. For what he had planned.
Augh. Yeah, he still had to actually plan that. Mull over his options.
It would be a repetitive statement to simply say that he loved Simon. About fifty percent of his thoughts were redirected to him. And, truly, that in itself had been an understatement.
Simon did not complete him. No, he hadn’t wanted that. He loved Simon, but he would not lose himself in the process.
But Simon had, most certainly, complemented him.
It was— well, it was natural. It was easy to love Simon. Like breathing, hardly a second thought to it. It was undoubtedly human. And it had been a long, long time since he’d felt this human.
Their love — it was easy, and it was hard to explain. There weren’t enough words known to him to explain it. They’d both come from two completely different places. And yet, they were both human. They loved each other in such different ways. Their love was human.
It was like — Simon had lived in a cold climate all his life, while Grace had lived in one of warmth. This, of course, was not completely accurate, but metaphorical language for metaphorical sake. They’d been raised in opposite climates. Simon knew only the coldness of water, the heavy, damp feeling of waterlogged cloth to skin. While Grace knew only the dew, the mist of morning. And yet, despite this, they still shared the common understanding of rain.
Well… did Simon know what rain was? It didn’t matter; it was just a metaphor.
It was fascinating, regardless. The understanding of love beyond the borders of space.
Which is why this had to be perfect. Everything he did for Simon had to be perfect. To him, there was no margin for error.
“Something wrong, Grace?”
“Just— deep in thought.” Grace chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m trying to think of the things I can show him. I mean, there’s about an infinite amount of things to choose from, but I’m just… stuck.”
“Hmm. Too many choices?”
“Exactly. There are so many beautiful places and things — most of which I’ve never even seen.”
“What about the things you have seen?”
“The things I’ve seen?” Grace scoffed, “They’re boring. I never even left America. I grew up hardly leaving the tri-state area. I mean, I left, eventually. To California, for school and work. And I traveled a little bit… but that’s— that’s nothing.”
“Not nothing.” Rocky shook his carapace. “It’s your life on Earth. It’s beautiful.” He skipped ahead of Grace, just a few feet — yes, feet. He tended to revert to imperial units in moments of remarkable stress. And he was, indeed, stressed.
They stopped simultaneously, face to face. Or, face to carapace. They’d spent so much time together that it registered as a face, anyway. It was more of a projection of a lack of humanity and connection with such. The human brain did weird things when combatant against the lack of other humans.
Goodness, his thoughts were mere ramblings. He really was stressed.
“Simon will like it either way; don’t drive yourself into the ground over it.” A low, careful sound rumbled from his vents.
“Yeah,” Grace kicked the sand beneath his shoes — they’d finally tuned it to be the perfect granular size. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I know I’m right; you don’t need to tell me that.” Rocky laughed, and Grace mirrored much the same. “I think you should show him what you know. Share a piece of yourself, and your Earth, with him.”
He nodded, “I think I might. I dunno. Maybe toss in places I wanted to go. Those are probably far more interesting, anyway.”
Rockly only shook his carapace. It almost felt like a human equivalent of an eye roll.
As they began to walk once more, an idea came to Grace. Then another. And then, he couldn’t stop them. Excitement began to build.
But first—
“Oh, that’s right! I almost forgot— do you guys have anything like frogs on Erid?”
“Hmm, perhaps? They’re called ♫♬. Make very loud noises at the beginning of the day, much like Earth Avian. Loud and annoying. But, I suppose they look similar to Earth Amphibians.”
Yup, that checks. The same Eridian word the pebbles had dubbed The Croaker.
Grace smiled. He was satisfied, now.