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By Eridian standards, Grace didn’t sound pretty. This was to be expected, considering his species could only produce one set of notes at a time, with barely any depth and nuance to them. Some humans harmonized better, admittedly, and some—singers, Grace called them, and Rocky was massively pleased humans appreciated sound arts, too—could even approximate the beauty of Eridian speech. Their musical instruments helped them greatly in this regard. Grace himself was no singer, though, and had no aids to compensate for it.
All that to say, when Rocky had first heard Grace speak, he couldn’t have cared less about the rough and, frankly, off-putting tones. Rocky had gotten so used to the totality of silence, the sound of another living creature might as well have been an Eridian choir. He’d calmed after a while, sure, but this first impression impacted all others to come.
For a species so dependent on light-perception, they sure were noisy. Grace’s body always made sound. His internal structure was a terrible insulator; Rocky could constantly hear soft breathing, swallowing, gurgling of intestines. And, of course, the beating of Grace’s heart. Whilst the rest of his body’s workings were not particularly pleasant to listen to, the rhythmic contractions had become something of an indulgence. What a fascinating organ it was—it reacted not only to physiological changes, but emotional, too. Ever since Rocky realized that, he couldn’t help listening to how it sped or slowed depending on what Grace was doing or what they were talking about. And when Grace slept, its calm, steady rhythm soothed Rocky to a near-trance.
Which became especially true after the incident at planet Adrian. He could not only hear the terror in Grace voice, but also manifest in his body as the most horrifying cacophony of wails and alarms. The heart especially, oh, the heart. Rocky had thought, hysteric, it’d burst from how fiercely it trashed in Grace’s ribcage. And then, when the pilot’s chair had crushed Grace and his breathing had stuttered to a halt, Rocky knew the heart would soon follow and nothing else had mattered.
Before, Grace’s heartbeat had been a fascination, but since planet Adrian, it’d become a reassurance. Grace was still here, and Rocky was not alone. He would not be forced into silence ever again.
All the other sounds Grace’s body made no longer discomforted him, either. Something in his perception had shifted, and all that squishy and wet gurgling now only served as evidence of life. Grace still breathed, still swallowed, still digested, still stayed beside him. How could Rocky possibly find any of that disgusting?
Rocky may have started to listen a little too intently, in all honesty. He couldn’t bear not to. The Hail Mary might have been cramped, but it afforded him the luxury of always hearing Grace, and he took full advantage of it. He started listening to Grace’s voice closer, too, and this might have been where the troubles first started.
(It wasn’t. That might have been planet Adrian. Or perhaps even that tunnel. Or the troubles had never had a start to begin with and this was just how things were always meant to go.)
Grace’s voice wasn’t pretty by Eridian standards, but Rocky had misjudged its depth. When Rocky started paying closer attention to all its little inflections and warbles, a dizzying variability of expressiveness revealed itself. So unlike an Eridian’s still, but not as lacking in complexity as he’d first thought. A different kind of complexity. Grace could utter the same phrase in an uncountable number of ways, and all meant something else. Even something as simple as ‘Goodnight, Rocky,’ could sound different every time. It could be tired, flat and without much thought put into the words, or it could be wistful, like his soft breaths, or even melancholic, which could sound so close to wistful yet always had a different undertone. Lower, more in his throat, a slight deflection in the tones.
Rocky didn’t very much like that one, but he liked all of Grace’s sounds, so that wasn’t saying a lot.
Often, Grace made noise which wasn’t speech. He’d sigh, which he said was usually an indication of a ‘heavy thought’, and Rocky believed he understood. He’d also huff, most often at something sarcastic Rocky would say, and he’d hum, for no reason at all. He was no singer and couldn’t harmonize at all, but Rocky caught himself on more than one occasion moments away from humming along. Grace would think Rocky was making fun of him, though, or, worse, decide to ask about it instead, and Rocky wouldn’t know how to explain. How could he explain an instinct? How could he explain why said instinct even emerged in the presence of an alien species, when it was supposed to be reserved for his kind?
He didn’t think about it very much at the start.
Most of all, Rocky loved when Grace laughed. He especially loved it when Rocky made him laugh. He could laugh along, too, then, and no explanations were needed. It shouldn’t have been as pretty a sound as it was, and it shouldn’t have made Rocky want to mimic it so much, and yet. He stopped wondering about how strange it was he could no longer think in Eridian standards.
Problem was, Rocky couldn’t not listen. Grace could shut his eyes and his light-perception would stop. He could even cover his ears to disrupt sound. Rocky didn’t perceive the way Grace did, though. He couldn’t truly understand the differences, of course, but his observations lent him some insights. Grace registered sound in a… distant sort of way. He could tell noise apart, and could even determine its origins (sometimes, with horrendous precision), but that was that. It didn’t vibrate along his body, didn’t sink deep, deep, deep beneath its many layers. Thoughts were sound. Emotions were sound. Consciousness was sound.
Sometimes, Grace said an experience was ‘too human to explain’, and Rocky understood the sentiment very much.
It was only a matter of time before Grace’s voice sunk beneath that first layer and settled into a constant buzz at the edge of his awareness. The shift was as inevitable as gravitational pull, and Rocky made no effort to fight it. Why would he, when it muffled the echoes in the hollow crevices left behind by the long, long, silence of dead space?
Said shift did bring by some changes, though.
~
On their way to Erid, Grace’s mood dropped frequently, often much to Rocky’s confusion. He could be laughing at something during a movie, and the next moment he could grow strangely somber and quiet. When asked, Grace usually just moved his shoulders.
“Human thing,” he’d say, and Rocky would fume, because that was what he always said. How could Rocky fix the issue if he didn’t know what was broken?
“Humans and Eridians not as different as Grace think,” Rocky would say, which didn’t feel like either a truth nor a lie. “Rocky understand if Grace explain.”
“It’s fine, Rock, really. Just thinking.”
“Grace think too much.”
He’d laugh, then, and the sound wouldn’t settle right. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Thing was, Rocky had a good idea of what must be upsetting Grace so much these days. Rocky had promised Grace could go home, and he would have if he hadn’t decided to save Rocky instead. Rocky still could hardly grapple with the thought without everything going too loud loud loud, but whilst he didn’t think Grace regretted his choice (because Grace said he didn’t, and the words sounded too sweet to be lies), Grace would still not go home. Maybe not ever.
Privately, selfishly, Rocky was glad for it. He hated such thoughts, hated hated hated, but they didn’t care for his hatred. Instead, they flooded him with memories of his dead ship. Of the silence, so whole and undisturbed and final. He’d been alone again, and this time, he would have died alone, too.
Then, Grace came back.
So, as much as Rocky might have despised this primal sort of delight, he could do nothing but let it consume him whole. Even the thought that once they returned to Erid, they could somehow figure out a way to send Grace back home shackled Rocky with a profound terror. No no no, Grace couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t imagine going a single day without hearing Grace again, much less the rest of his life.
But if Grace’s melancholy spread too much, he might eventually not care about staying with Rocky enough to never go back. This was a problem, and Rocky had to figure out how to fix it.
Sometimes, when Grace settled to sleep, he’d lay on the mattress for a while without closing his eyes. Once, Rocky thought to ask about it.
“What is Grace doing, question?”
Grace had sighed and turned to lay on his side. “Nothing, bud. Goodnight.”
But even thought he’d closed his eyes, his heart hadn’t slow like it was supposed to for a long, long while.
Now, too, Grace laid under his quilt facing away from him, eyes open, breathing slow with a slight quaver. Why couldn’t he just go to sleep? Whatever saddened him would go away, and Rocky wouldn’t have to listen to all his little shudders which clenched around Rocky’s body so tight tight tight.
Grace turned his head to look at Rocky. “What are you saying there, Rock? I can’t understand a word of it.”
Only then did Rocky realize he’d begun to coo. Grace had such a way of bringing out instincts Rocky had nearly forgotten about. “Not saying anything. Is song for soothing.” Which, well, wasn’t a lie.
“Oh,” Grace said, surprised. “So, kind of like a ⎺⎻⎼⎺⎽.”
“No understand word.”
“Uh, it’s a song people sing to help others fall asleep. Usually parents sing it to their children.”
“Lullaby,” Rocky said. “Yes, similar. But not only for hatchlings.”
This specific variation Rocky had started to hum wasn’t ever meant for hatchlings, but Grace didn’t need to know that.
Rocky shimmied his folded body side to side a tiny bit and began to coo again, speaking over the melody. “Grace like, question?”
“Yeah,” Grace murmured, soft and quiet and wistful. “It’s nice.”
“Grace come closer.”
“What?”
“Sound nicer if closer.”
Grace stayed still for a few moments longer, staring at Rocky, before he slowly pulled himself up. He dragged the mattress and quilt over to where Rocky sat perched in his tunnel and laid down beside it. Rocky moved closer to the wall, too, although he wasn’t very far to begin with. Now that he sung consciously, he weaved in more delicate tones, ones which reverberated in his own body whenever he thought of Grace. It felt wrong to hum the same variation as he did to Adrian, for a variety of reasons he didn’t care to examine right now, so instead he devised something new. Something meant only for Grace, Grace, Grace.
He wouldn’t understand what any of this meant, but that was okay. As long as Rocky could hear Grace’s soft sighs in response, could perceive how his eyes fluttered closed and his heartbeat leveled out, that was enough.
As Rocky thought Grace was finally falling asleep, Grace lifted his hand and pressed it to the xenonite wall between them. His body sagged even further, then, and a quiet ‘mmm’ sounded in his throat. Hold on, now.
“Grace can feel song, question?” Rocky asked, slower than usual. The cooing had lulled him, too.
“I… Maybe? Yeah,” Grace whispered, and Rocky had to focus to understand the slurring.
“Humans can feel sound, question?”
Grace huffed a small laugh. “Sometimes, yeah. For example, when the sound is… very low and loud, we can feel it in our chests.”
“Song is neither low nor loud.” That would have an entirely different effect.
“I know. I can still feel it, I think. It’s strange.”
“Good strange, question?”
“Good strange, yeah.”
Grace could feel sound. Grace could feel Rocky’s songs.
Hmm.
Every day, Rocky learned something new about Grace, be it his body or his thoughts, but this particular tidbit settled in a different way than the rest. A pervasive tone in his depths he couldn’t quiet, nor felt inclined to. Humans and Eridians had many differences, many incompatibilities, but maybe this specific gap in their experiences could be bridged, actually. The moment Rocky had that thought, he couldn’t focus on anything else.
So, Rocky began experimenting. Many, many Eridian experience songs existed, and he wished to figure out how they might connect with Grace, too. He modified them, of course, adjusted their progressions and harmonies to better fit around Grace’s body. He’d drone a low buzz with minute inflections at regular intervals whenever Grace couldn’t focus on some boring, but necessary task, and Grace’s fidgeting would calm. When their discussions turned to some amusing topic and Grace laughed at Rocky’s exaggerated astonishment at some strange human practices, he’d trill a light, quick tune under his speech, and Grace would laugh a little longer and smile a little wider. Most importantly, though, when Grace would fall into one of his heavy silences, Rocky would fill them with lulling thrums, and Grace’s body would angle towards him, his muscles relaxing, breaths deepening.
Suffice to say, his experiments were seeing success, much to Rocky’s mounting pleasure. Grace was bound to catch onto them sooner or later, though.
“You sure are noisy lately, Rock,” Grace quipped once as he fiddled with his portable Earth thinking machine—he’d been quietly muttering at it for nearly an hour, and Rocky had been humming whilst he worked on his own repairs. “What’s that all about?”
Rocky quieted. “Noises bother Grace, question?”
“No, that’s not what I said. I’m just curious about it.” He twirled his elongated tool between his fingers, promptly lost control and scrambled after it as it rolled away on the table. How humans built an interstellar ship continued to befuddle Rocky. “I mean— What are you doing it for?”
Good question. Difficult answer.
“Meant to help Grace,” Rocky settled on, which was approximately thirty-six percent of the reason.
“Meant to—” Grace’s face distorted in a more complicated way than Rocky could understand. It was far more expressive than any organ had any right to be. “Rocky, are you regulating my emotions?”
“Not regulating. Sharing, enhancing, calming. Depends on what Grace needs.”
“Yeah, that’s what regulating means, bud,” Grace huffed a light, somewhat strained laugh. Rocky heard that tone on a rare occasion, usually when he did something that broke some human culture law he didn’t know about. Clearly, this was one of such instances.
He clicked his claws, swaying his body side to side as he considered how to best explain himself without upsetting Grace further. That was, quite literally, the opposite of what he wanted.
“Is Eridian culture,” he said, a bit meeker than he’d intended. Even he could tell the excuse was rather ‘lame’, as Grace would say. “Will stop if unpleasant.”
Grace stayed quiet for a prolonged time, fidgeting with his tool. Finally, he set it aside and turned his whole body towards where Rocky had been working.
“Hey, I’m always up for some cultural exchange,” Grace said. “I’d just like to know it’s, you know, happening. So, what, Eridians go around influencing one another’s emotions?”
Rocky stomped one limb, frustrated with this perpetual barrier between them and his limited explanation capabilities. “No, Grace misunderstands. Experience songs not meant to influence or regulate. Meant to create connection beyond words. Is only done with most loved, to show care and trust.”
He’d never had to put something so natural into words, and nothing he could come up with sounded sufficient enough. Yes, this was meant to help Grace with his melancholy, but in ways beyond just soothing. Grace had chosen Rocky over Earth, and Rocky did not ever want him to regret it.
“Oh,” Grace murmured. Rocky angled his body to better catch the soft sound, curious about its unfamiliar tones. He heard Grace swallow, could perceive him opening and closing his mouth. His heart, too, thudded a little louder. Finally, he said, “That’s… That sounds very nice, Rocky.”
He perked up. “So Rocky can continue singing for Grace, question?”
“…Yeah, bud. You can.”
Rocky trilled, and Grace’s mouth stretched into a smile, which meant all was well. Good good good, he’d continue to sing, and, eventually, Grace would understand.
Rocky found the experience songs’ effects were more pronounced if the sound carried from Rocky directly through the xenonite barrier and Grace’s skin, with no air to hinder its path. This was especially true for the soothing melodies. More and more, Grace chose to sleep pressed against the xenonite tunnel where Rocky could rest and coo his melodies for sharing calm and safety. These ones continued to see the most success, and he could tell Grace liked them the best, too.
He could tell, because at some point, Grace started to hum along. Whilst half-asleep, yes, and in entirely wrong tones, but the little sounds nonetheless skittered across Rocky’s body like the most beautiful of chimes. They mixed with his own singing, and the resulting melody pulled Rocky into a deep, deep trance, one in which he could not think of anything but this budding connection. For as long as Grace hummed, Rocky caught the stray, inelegant notes with great care and weaved around them. This, he knew, was key, as well as a sign that his efforts at forging a bond weren’t in vain. Grace didn’t have the right instincts, but perhaps whatever the two of them had created could surpass both of their natures.
Some part of him knew capturing Grace’s voice into his songs would have consequences, and there would be no pushing this specific boulder back up the cliff. The whole of him didn’t care. Well, no, it did—he observed that boulder tumble down with a gleeful anticipation.
Grace didn’t notice Rocky incorporate his voice’s tones in his singing. His ears weren’t sensitive enough, but that was okay. Grace nonetheless recognized the familiarity, yes yes yes, and he hummed along more and more. Not only whilst falling asleep, but as he read, as he fiddled with his machines, as he did nothing at all and just sat there, listening. Did he realize it? Maybe, or maybe not. Experience songs tended to blur the line between the conscious and subconscious. Still, with how much he joined Rocky, he must have realized the significance. Must have wanted the connection just as much as Rocky.
Rocky did, admittedly, sing too much. It was supposed to be reserved for select, special moments, and at first, he’d followed convention, but the closer they hurdled to Erid, the more conventions and standards spilled through his claws like sand. He watched all that’d been second-nature to him tumble out of his grasp, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to chase after it. Surely, he could be forgiven. If Grace was the only one who could hear him, surely he couldn’t be faulted for singing all the time. If Grace was the only one who Rocky could hear, surely he could be understood for clinging to the sound of him.
He heard Grace all the time, yes, but when he hummed along, Rocky heard him. Incompatible atmospheres separated them, and yet, Grace was right here, echoing and echoing and echoing. Such lovely sounds, so unique and special. How could he have ever thought Grace’s voice to be anything but? No no, it blended with Rocky’s own trills so flawlessly, so beautifully, as if they’d always belonged together. As if, without the other, neither could ever be finished.
Rocky knew exactly what this feeling meant. He probably should have told Grace about it, too, but if he hummed along so much, surely he knew it, too.
“Hey, Rock?”
Rocky angled his body towards where Grace sat in his laboratory’s chair. He’d been scribbling something whilst Rocky worked on a special, special project. Now, Grace was tapping his writing instrument against his mouth in a rhythmic fashion, tap, tap, tap. A little slower than his heartbeat, which, now that Rocky was playing closer attention to, beat with more force than usual. Maybe he was trying to coax his heart into matching the tapping?
“Yes?” he asked.
Grace didn’t respond immediately. He sometimes did that, for whatever reason.
“How come your songs actually have an effect on me?” he finally asked. “I mean, this feels almost… biological. But it can’t be, right? Given how our biologies have almost nothing in common?”
Rocky swayed his body from side to side, idly continuing to work on his xenonite construction. “Mmm. Not certain. Both species value sound. Eridians value more, but is important for humans, too, yes?”
“Well, yeah, I’d say it’s pretty important.” Grace shifted in his chair, began tapping the floor with his foot. “Music in particular can make us very emotional, actually. Still, this isn’t…” He fell quiet. “I don’t know. It’s different.”
“Of course is different,” Rocky said, tones flat. “Is not human music.”
Grace laughed, “Yeah, you got me there.” A pause. “You didn’t actually my question I’m noticing.”
“Not answer because not know. Can only theorize. Would need more information for better theories. More experiments.”
Grace’s tappings stopped. “More experiments? There’s more you can do with this singing?”
Rocky, too, paused in his fiddling. Should he have said that? Yes, of course, it was inevitable. The boulder continued tumbling down, down, down.
“Yes,” Rocky said.
“Like what?”
“A lot not relevant to Grace. Outside hearing range.”
“You’re definitely avoiding my question now.”
“Not avoiding,” Rocky protested, shimmying his body in frustration. “Thinking.”
“Okay, well, let me know when you’re done,” Grace said. Sarcasm.
Rocky decided to take his words literally, though. He continued working on his project, leaving Grace to sit in silence. Grace didn’t pry, either, turning instead back to his scribbling. Rocky didn’t actually need to think about how to answer Grace’s question. Rather, he couldn’t decide on the exact approach. This wasn’t an issue he’d ever had before, so he should be excused for his hesitation.
Finally, he said, “Is not possible right now. Grace needs physical contact to feel songs better, Eridians do not. Grace needs a lot, lot, lot physical contact to feel other songs.”
“Okay,” Grace said, drawing the word out. Rocky liked when he did that—the singular sound rolled across his body like a lazy wave. “Well, that’s gonna be a bit of a problem, don’t you think?”
“Mmm. Maybe not. Will see.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Yes, very ominous.”
Rocky didn’t lie about not knowing why his songs could actually affect Grace. Many Eridians followed instincts without researching their mechanisms, Rocky included. He sung the same way he made xenonite—understanding the ‘hows’, but not the ‘whys’. Some scientists back on Erid would no doubt be fascinated by this revelation, but the idea of disclosing such a vulnerability of Grace’s body grated against his insides. Anyone could tell Grace was a fragile creature from a single glance, sure, but this was different. This concerned his mind, his emotions and feelings. The mere thought of someone invading them (because it would be an invasion, because Grace would hate hate hate it) settled as pleasantly as rotten food. And, understand, rotten food could make an Eridian erratic, so Rocky couldn’t be blamed for a loss of control, too.
No matter. Rocky had years before he had to figure out how he’d wrangle Erid into treating Grace right.
~
Rocky took longer to finish his latest project than he’d wanted. He’d begun considering its designs ever since planet Adrian, but only committed to fulfilling them when Grace came back for him. It was delicate work, much more than all the tunnels and walls he’d constructed for the Hail Mary. Now, after endless testing, he thought he’d arrived at a serviceable model.
“Grace,” Rocky called as he climbed up into the cockpit where Grace was doing routine inspections of the Hail Mary’s functioning. “Ship is fine. Come come. Have surprise.”
Grace made a clicking sound with his mouth, not moving from his seat. “One sec, Rock. I’m almost done.”
Rocky paced back and forth in his tunnel, knowing the skittering sounds of his limbs against the xenonite would start to annoy Grace after a while. Grace did indeed last for only a short bit before he turned from the screens with a sigh.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he said, standing to follow Rocky. “You really have no concept of patience, do you?”
“Have. Surprise more important than pointless worry. Ship is fine.”
“You might be eating your words one day,” Grace muttered as he climbed down the ladder.
“Strange phrase.” Rocky shuddered. “What means ‘eating words’, question?”
“Just that one day you may regret saying that.”
“So many idioms with eating and food. Very strange.”
Grace huffed, but didn’t argue. Rocky was right, after all.
He led Grace all the way down to the dormitory. Here, he instructed Grace to wait as he hurried over to the large airlock where he’d already assembled everything. Grace scrunched up his face for a moment before his mouth fell open.
“Wait, Rocky, is that—”
“Is suit!” Rocky chirped as he maneuvered into the construction. Much harder to do than to get inside his ball, given all the fitted panels and modified life-support. “So Rocky no need to enter Grace’s atmosphere if emergency again.”
“Right, yeah, good thinking,” Grace said, tones all soft again. “And you’re sure it’s safe?”
“Rocky not reckless like Grace. Did many, many tests, would not use if not safe. Stupid question.”
Finally, he sealed up the last panel and closed the airlock for atmosphere exchange. When it equalized with Grace’s, the door opened and, finally, he walked out into Grace’s side.
“Hi, Grace!” he trilled, lifting two of his limbs up.
Grace breathed a choked laugh and crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides. Before Rocky could react, Grace had knelt down and wrapped his two long arms around Rocky’s xenonite-covered body. With Grace’s chest pressed against him, the quick thudding of his heart reverberated through every crevice of his body, thud thud thud, so loud and all-encompassing Rocky could barely hear his own thoughts over it.
Rocky didn’t hesitate to return the expected hug. He didn’t yet know how much force Grace’s delicate body could handle, so he did nothing more than rest his limbs around him. That, already, was enough for Grace to puff another shuddering breath and press himself closer, laying the side of his head atop Rocky.
“Wow,” Grace whispered. “I hadn’t thought…”
“Hadn’t thought what?”
Grace swallowed. From so up close, Rocky could follow the movement in his throat with a near-unsettling precision. Or, it might have been unsettling once before. Now, all of his little sounds and movements only fed into the growing warmth deep in his body. What a lovely, lovely creature Grace was.
“Hadn’t thought I’d get to actually hug someone again,” Grace finally said.
“Grace and Rocky hug before.”
“Yeah, but this is different. Very different.” He sighed, deep and slow, as his eyes closed. “You’re so warm.”
Rocky chirped, adjusting his hold to better envelop Grace, which earned him a content hum. Although Rocky hadn’t initially understood the appeal of hugs, the lack of physical distance soothed him in ways he couldn’t have predicted. Maybe it shouldn’t have, considering he was a creature who hadn’t evolved an instinctual need for it, but if Grace could adapt to Rocky’s biology, then why not the other way around?
“How long does your life-support last in this suit?” Grace murmured.
“Grace planning to hug for hours, question?”
“Hey, don’t tempt me.”
Rocky wouldn’t mind, he didn’t think. “Will last a while. Shorter than ball, but enough.”
“Good to know.”
Finally, Grace pulled away, hastily wiping at his eyes. He still kept one hand on Rocky, though, as if he couldn’t bear to lose contact completely, which pleased Rocky probably more than it should have.
“Is this also what you meant when you said we might be able to touch enough for those other songs of yours?” Grace asked.
Oh, Grace had been thinking about them.
“Yes,” Rocky chimed, trying to stay still and not start skittering around. Grace wanted Rocky to sing for him, wanted wanted wanted. “Should be enough. Experimenting needed.”
“So, are you going to finally tell me what they’re about?”
“Mmm.” Rocky clicked his claws in thought. What words would best describe a uniquely Eridian experience to an entirely different species? “Is special. Very, very special. More special than others. Meant for expression of complete trust and intimacy. Have only sung with Adrian before.”
“Oh.” Then, Grace laughed in a strange sort of way. Awkward? No, not quite right. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be a ⎽⎺⎻⎼⎺⎻⎽.”
“No understand word.”
“It’s— It doesn’t matter, stupid joke. I just meant if it’s that special, is it really okay for you to sing it to me? Wouldn’t that upset Adrian?”
Rocky tilted his body in confusion. “Why upset? Not sing Adrian’s song. Sing Grace’s.”
Grace stayed silent for a few moments before he said, “You’re going to have to explain this whole thing better, Rock.”
He blew a frustrated puff of air through his vents—he’d been trying.
“Experience songs can be universal, but better if unique,” he said. “Intimacy songs only unique. Compose special one for Grace, different than Adrian’s.”
“Ah, I see… And you say you already have one for me?”
“Yes, have long time.”
“Well, then,” Grace murmured. “We wouldn’t want to waste your efforts, right?”
Rocky chirruped in delight, bouncing his body up and down. “Yes yes, put much effort into song, Grace will like like like.” At least, he very much hoped so.
Grace laughed in that endeared sort of way Rocky adored as he shifted from kneeling to a more comfortable for his fragile body position. “Okay, so how is this going to work?”
Rocky lifted two of his limbs up, uncurling his claws. “Grace give hands and listen.”
“Should I be doing anything besides that?” Grace asked as he let Rocky to take his hands.
Rocky hummed, momentarily distracted by the soft tissue hiding solid structures beneath. What a wonder it was to touch Grace again without risk of injury. “Can make sound, too. Better connection, more success.”
“Alright.”
One would have thought that after thrumming and cooing a whole plethora of different songs for so long, Rocky would have no issue falling into this one, too, but nervousness nonetheless itched his insides as he prepared to begin. He had much more experience at composition now than when he’d first sung with Adrian, so, surely, he wouldn’t stumble over his chords this time, but a faultless performance wouldn’t be enough. Somehow, he’d have to transcend the boundaries of both of their biologies if he wished to express all he wanted in the ways he wanted. And, oh, how he wanted.
Hearing Grace only from outside had long since not been enough.
He started slow, a gentle hum not unlike his soothing melodies. Grace’s eyes fluttered closed and his heart slowed as Rocky lulled him into a near-sleep state—an unconventional beginning, but nothing about what they were doing was conventional. Grace enjoyed these progressions the most, and so Rocky used them for his foundation. Then, he began to build. Subtle deflections for a gradual change of tone into a lower frequency, and Grace’s body responded accordingly. His head tilted to the side, face muscles twitched, and his fingers, once loose in Rocky’s grasp, now curled around it. Good, yes, Rocky could lean into this shift, so he pushed the lower notes closer to the surface of the melody. This earned him a long sigh as Grace made a rumbling sound deep in his throat, and yes yes yes, finally.
Rocky didn’t hesitate to capture the rough tones, his own body shivering in anticipation as he weaved around them. All his previous inclusions of Grace’s voice into his songs had their immediate uses, yes, but they served as practice for this precise moment, too. As Rocky worked on enhancing his melody with Grace’s humming, though, he was struck with an idea which would appal any decent Eridian. Rocky wasn’t a decent Eridian, though, not anymore, so he shifted his focus to Grace’s heart and lungs and every single other noisy part of his body. These, too, were Grace’s sounds, and so Rocky caught them as well.
The resulting composition would have sent any Eridian staggering back in horror, but not Grace, no, listen to how beautiful you sound, and Grace gasped, his entire body pitching forward. The more Rocky entangled his melody with Grace’s, the deeper the sound could sink into his every crevice, and whilst Rocky couldn’t know how this could possibly feel for a human, the waves penetrating through his bones and veins and nerves, Grace latched onto Rocky and all but fell atop him. His heart pounded now, and his breathing came in quick, loud puffs. This, too, Rocky captured, trilling when Grace pressed the side of his face to the xenonite with a breathy groan.
Beloved, beloved, beloved, Rocky cooed amidst the multitude of frequencies, wrapping a limb around Grace, his claws finding his hair. Yes, the suit was a good idea, very good idea, as the rest of the ship faded from Rocky’s awareness, leaving behind only Grace. Enveloped by him and his body’s lovely singing, the boundaries between the two of them blurred. The continuous melody reverberated through his body’s structures, traveled to Grace’s, echoed back, and the rapid pulsing in Grace’s throat was now his, the shuddering muscles his, the choked whimpers his, all his his his.
He might have thought Grace was in pain from all the sounds coming out of his mouth, but Rocky knew he wasn’t, because Grace laid splayed open before him now. He could hide nothing and told Rocky everything. That was why, when Grace’s hips hitched forward and a frustrated groan tore from his throat, Rocky only needed to croon tell me what you want for Grace’s body to answer in pleas.
Rocky adjusted his frequencies accordingly, so they’d penetrate how Grace needed them to. The improvisation proved successful. A body-wide shudder wracked Grace as his keening caught in his throat, voice trailing off to tones which sounded suspiciously close to Rocky’s name. Rocky responded with trills of Grace, Grace, Grace, do you see? do you understand? He was Rocky’s now, his to love and care for and cherish. Grace heard him, he knew. Poor Grace, no matter how much he pressed into the xenonite or how he clawed at it with his hands, he couldn’t get any closer, and all of Rocky’s hearts broke at his oozing desperation. This, Rocky couldn’t fix—he could only overwhelm.
Instead of falling back on the familiar soothing melodies, though, Rocky pressed deeper, intent on making his very cells sing. Grace wouldn’t despair about the physical boundaries if his body would not longer be able to determine them. Rocky could become Grace’s home in every sense of the word. Anything Grace would need, anything he would want, Rocky would give, so Grace shouldn’t ever think of leaving. He’d come back, so that meant he’d stay, right? right? right? right, beloved beautiful cherished Grace Grace Grace yes yes yes sing for me yes like this yes yes yes isn’t this wonderful all for you for you for you
Grace’s body moved so much, twitching and shuddering and hitching, and none of his sounds, the gasping and groaning and pleading, could even begin to approximate song, but Rocky thought he’d burst from sheer adoration for Grace’s every unique peculiarity. He could tell Grace wouldn’t be able to handle the assault on his senses for much longer, though, which was such a shame, because if allowed, Rocky wouldn’t stop for hours upon hours. But it was okay—Grace was a fragile thing, and he shouldn’t be broken, no no no. Rocky would have to teach him how to bend instead.
For now, though, when Grace reached his breaking point with a choked cry, Rocky slowly eased the intensity of the waves to a calmer, gentler hum meant to relax. He cooed and soothed as tension bled from Grace’s body. Like a puppet without support, Grace slumped over him, his breaths turning ragged and long. Rocky kept hold of his limp hands as he dragged his claws through Grace’s hair, back and forth, just how he’d seen in some movies. For a while, Grace only heaved from the palpable exhaustion, and, for a moment, Rocky worried if he hadn’t chosen a composition too intensive for his delicate human to handle.
“I think,” Grace whispered, his voice faltering, “I’d misunderstood.”
That was impossible. They’d understood everything—Rocky had made sure of it. That’d been the whole point.
“Misunderstood what, question?”
Grace swallowed. Attempted to speak again, failed. Then, “Rocky, when you mentioned intimacy… I didn’t think this is what you had in mind.”
Of all things, Grace sounded abashed. For whatever reason.
“Was very clear,” Rocky said, because he really thought he’d been. “Said song special, only for mates. What Grace think that meant, question?”
“Okay, you definitely didn’t mention the mates part.”
Well. That had been very much implied, though.
“Said sung only with Adrian, Adrian Rocky’s mate.”
Grace breathed a stuttering laugh, “You know, I was joking when I said I didn’t wanna be a ⎽⎺⎻⎼⎺⎻⎽, but now I definitely feel like one. I mean, god, so what you were actually saying—” He tripped on his words, his face scrunched up in one of those impossible to interpret combinations. “You were saying you see me as your— as your mate?”
For the first time, doubt crept in. Rocky’s body dropped as he asked, lower than usual, “Grace not want to, question?”
The notion seemed incomprehensible. Grace had been accepting all of Rocky’s singing, had been seeking it out, and now, Rocky had seen him bare. Grace needed Rocky inside him, just as Rocky needed Grace. They’d connected, which could only have happened if they’d both wanted to.
But Grace was a human. There was still much Rocky didn’t understand about his species, and maybe he’d, once again, did something wrong.
“That’s not my point,” Grace groaned and moved to lift himself up, which Rocky allowed begrudgingly. He still held onto Grace’s hands, though, and at least Grace didn’t try to take them back. “It’s just— That’s something you should talk about before asking to have… whatever is the equivalent of Eridian sex with people.”
Rocky tilted his body in confusion. “Song not meant for reproduction.”
“Well, that’s… good to know, I guess,” Grace murmured. “My point stands, though, I think. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Thought Grace already understood,” Rocky said, sinking down further. “Apologies. Would not have sung if thought Grace not know. Apologies.”
Back on Erid, this sort of situation would never have happened, so this heavy, tangled feeling wasn’t familiar. Rocky had to fight against the urge to squirm, his body suddenly squeezing him too tight.
Grace sighed, resting his forehead against Rocky’s suit. “Don’t apologize. This was just a miscommunication. I’m honestly surprised we don’t get more of those,” he chuckled, and Rocky’s insides warmed from the sound.
“Grace still not answer mate question,” Rocky said, because he’d rather not make miscommunication into a trend, regardless of what he’d heard from Grace’s body.
“…It’s a lot to think about, Rock. I don’t even know what that would mean, exactly.” He paused. “Would it include more of this singing?”
Rocky perked up. “Yes yes, much more,” he crooned. “As much as Grace want.”
“Okay, slow down there,” Grace huffed out a laugh. His fingers had wrapped around Rocky’s grip again, and now he dragged them along a seam in the xenonite. Rocky could almost imagine how the vibrations would feel if no barrier separated them. Maybe he could work out how to make xenonite more conductive to this kind of touch? “I want to do an actual study into the mechanisms at play here, because what I felt, it was… unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I could hear you inside me, as if my whole body was vibrating at all those different frequencies. And then, it… Well.” He blew a long breath. “I guess it makes sense, though. Sex is… extremely intimate for humans. Still, this was definitely the strangest sexual experience I’ve had.”
“Good strange, question?”
“You don’t need me to answer that,” Grace muttered half-heartedly. “But yeah. Better than it had any right to be.”
“Good good good.” Rocky swayed his body gently side to side, chirping in contentment. “Happy Grace enjoyed.”
“Yeah,” Grace whispered. “Hey, what about you, though? I can’t imagine hearing all of my squishy insides in such detail could have been nice.”
What an appalling thing to say. Rocky expressed his offense by releasing Grace’s hands in favor of wrapping all the limbs he could around his body, so Grace wouldn’t be able to move away even if he wanted to. Grace didn’t try to, although he did gasp when Rocky started to thrum in a low, insistent frequency.
“Stupid question,” Rocky chastised. His claws roamed Grace’s back, his sides, his neck, and he delighted in the shiver he elicited. “Would have kept singing for many, many hours if could, but Grace’s body too weak, would have broken. Shame, want to be inside Grace always.”
“Rocky, you can’t just—” Grace choked on a breath, his hands latching onto Rocky. “—say that.”
“Can say. Grace sound beautiful. Want want want Grace always,” he trilled. Although he didn’t try initiating another song—Grace’s body still needed to recover—the deep humming seemed to have a substantial effect nonetheless, if the way Grace’s heart stuttered was any indication. Or maybe it was his words. Or, more likely, both.
“You’re gonna get me all worked up again like this,” Grace laughed weakly. “Didn’t know you had all of this in you.” His face twisted in a complicated way, then. “But, uh… Seriously, do you think Adrian would be okay with this? I wouldn’t want to make things weird between you two.”
Rocky wished he could wave Grace’s worries about Adrian’s reception away, and before everything had gone wrong, he probably could have. The problem, however, wasn’t Grace. Adrian, as caring and patient as they were, would surely understand why Rocky couldn’t help loving Grace. The problem was Rocky himself.
“Not know if Adrian would still want Rocky,” he said, his voice dropping. “Is been years. Much change happened.”
Grace ran his hands along the suit in a slow manner as he murmured, “I’m sure they’re still waiting for you. I can’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t.”
What a sweet, lovely creature Grace was. Rocky wanted to hope against all hope he was right, but hope could be such a cruel thing, too.
“Then would have to accept Grace. Rocky could not pretend.”
Grace only hummed, although Rocky had a suspicion he still wanted to argue. Did he think Rocky could have ever chosen to not love him? Did he think Rocky could possibly stop?
For a while, neither spoke, content to only hold onto one another as Rocky thrummed a meandering melody. He could tell Grace was deep in thought, which didn’t necessarily bode well for them. Grace could be really quite stupid when he let his mind run away from him (Rocky still didn’t understand that phrase, but he oh-so adored these weird little human expressions Grace used, so he’d taken to mimicking them).
“Hey, Rocky,” Grace started, quiet, and Rocky couldn’t help tensing. “Do you actually worry so much about me leaving you?”
Oh.
Right.
Rocky wasn’t the only one who’d heard everything.
“…Understand why Grace would want to,” he said after a long, long pause. “Want Grace to be happy.”
“Now who’s not answering questions?” Grace teased gently. “That’s not something you should be worrying about, Rock. I don’t even know if Earth is still alive. And even if I did… I don’t know. It’s already been a long time. By the time I went back, everyone I’d ever known would be dead.” He sighed, turning his head so he could rest his chin atop Rocky. “In any case, I’m here with you now, alright? And I’m not going anywhere.”
Rocky warbled as he pressed into Grace’s chest, his limbs tightening their grip around him. Yes, Grace would stay. Not only now, but forever, too, even if he wasn’t yet sure. Even if, in the future, they figured out Earth had been saved. Grace would still stay, because by the time he’d have to choose, Rocky would have already given him everything he could ever want.
It wouldn’t even be a choice. Already, Rocky had begun to make sure of it.