Make 'Em Laugh!

This isn't the first time it has suggested this. I think it asks at least once every time they see me, and my answer stays the same every time. “No.” It comes out harsher than I intend.

“He means a lot to me and so do you. I want you to get along.” I will say, it doesn't usually push after the first no; I'm a little surprised. It shifts closer to me while I'm working at my desk. “You work on the biodome team. You are in charge of so much of his life. This includes everything from what he eats to the conditions of the ocean in his home. You should be more involved physically..." I huff. Sure, maybe it would make my life easier to see the human in person, but my feelings towards the creature keep me away, and I think that's for the best for everyone involved.

“I work on the human because you don't trust anyone to care for it other than yourself and me.” We have a team, of course, but when it comes to Grace’s immediate health and comfort, I am the primary Eridian involved. Rocky shifts even closer to me; he's wobbling a bit. He's ready for sleep. 

“I-I don't want you to just do it for me. Do you enjoy it a little at least?” I move away slightly as it reaches a claw out for me. “You were excited when we first arrived…not just for me, for Grace too.” Grace was exciting when he first arrived. An alien who saved not one but two planets and saved my mate personally. Of course I would find that exciting. And to have the opportunity to help lead in the invention of its enclosure was amazing. But not so much anymore since I learned what the consequences of its existence on my life would be.

“It keeps me busy" is all I give to it. “Why are you being more pushy than normal?” I sense something's up. The unaccepted claw retracts, and Rocky pushes it together with another, fidgeting. I knew it.

“I must attend a meeting pertaining to Grace. I won't be there with him… I want you there to watch him instead," it trills out sheepishly. “I don't know how long I will be gone for. I…do not want him to be alone.”

“It is alone right now, is it not? It can function and take care of itself just fine.” Annoyance and anger lace my voice a bit. Rocky scitters back a bit but tries to touch me again. Its words are starting to slur as exhaustion takes over his body.

“You know what I mean. Grace is…sensitive. I don't want him to be alone ever again.” I feel anger rise within me. What about me being alone? For decades I waited to not be alone again, and now, even with my mate back, I am alone. I feel the mercury boil under my carapace as I try and be understanding.

“I know you do not like him.” It's not that I hate Grace personally. I can't really. I've only ever interacted with him while he was unconscious the first few weeks of being on Erid. I have complicated feelings toward the human and the situation that has come with it. 

“Please do it for me.” I move away from them again while trying to continue working.

"It's always for you, isn't it?"

"I-I…I'm sorr—"

"I'll do it. It's fine," I grumble at its despondent tone and move away from my desk.

Rocky comes over to me again. This time I know it isn't trying to convince me of anything; it just wants to sleep. The sight of it tugging at me hurts more than the argument did. Rocky is exhausted. Its movements are sluggish; it reaches a claw towards me. I flinch away before I can stop myself.

Rocky goes rigid and sits for a moment. “Y-you won't even hold me? You won't let me close to sleep?" It sounds broken, close to a cry but not quite. The sight makes me go rigid in return.

I let out a low hum. “...I need some space right now. I will still watch.” Rocky lets out a strangled whine, close to a sob, but settles on the bed close by anyway. I can tell it's too exhausted to really do anything about it; it's actively fighting off sleep that should have taken it days ago.

“Thank you, Adrian." the words come out slurred. I shift towards it to answer but Rocky is already asleep. Its claws are still loosely curled together where it has been fidgeting moments earlier. 

Something inside me aches.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

I arrive at the dome's airlock, wearing a thin Xenonite suit I've never had to put on before. Rocky stated that Grace knew I was coming to see him today instead of itself and that the human was nervous. To play nice, for Grace’s sake. I've taken the human's chart with me. While I'm here, I might as well take notes while I can and see what I can improve for him.

I step in and wait for it to pressurize, and then I'm on my way. I head out to the beach and start towards the humans' house. The sand shifts below my feet, and I hear the constant crashing of waves next to me. I move my attention to the “classroom” on the other side of the dome. I think making it a bit bigger would be helpful. More students to teach at a time, but to give the human more space to work with for demonstrations and such. Maybe add storage for materials so it's easier on the human.

By the time I come back to reality, I've approached the house. I realize we haven't exactly built the house for an Eridian of my size. I could probably get in, but I'm not sure how cramped the inside would be.

I knock lightly and wait a moment. I hear its footsteps frantically heading towards the door. It finally opens, and the little human looks up at me in awe. 

“Hello Grace.” It's still silent, just staring. I shift uncomfortably at the tiny alien.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know Eridians could get so…tall." It chuckles a little, but I feel its heart skyrocket. It's for sure nervous. “Rocky told me you were bigger but didn't really specify how much bigger."

“Yes.” It fidgets as I speak. “Adrian does not think it is good idea to try and go in Grace house.”

It looks back at the structure and rubs the back of its neck. “Uh–yeah. It's probably better if we hang out outside instead. Um, let me grab my shoes.” It turns back inside and grabs what it's looking for. 

I let out a small annoyed hum. The human is so loud. It is much louder now than when it was unconscious. I can hear its heart, its blood, and its breath. I can hear the crackles and pops of its joints, the way its tongue moves as it talks. So loud. How did Rocky get used to this noise? I would have gone crazy on that ship. 

The tiny human comes fumbling through the door and walks ahead of me. I noticed the door that it left open and pulled it shut. And so forgetful. 

We head down the beach in silence. Every wave crashes against the shore with a different rhythm. Besides me, Grace's heartbeat refuses to settle. Between the ocean and the human, there is hardly any silence at all.

The human comes to a stop and drops to sit, facing the waves. I do the same, crossing two arms in front of me, ready to take any notes on the human I might need.

“Grace nervous, question?" I ask softly. He spins to face me head-on.

He turns his head up at me and chuckles lightly. “You can tell?” What a dumb question. 

“Yes. Grace heart loud and fast.” I hear blood pump to its face, and it looks away.

“Sorry.” 

“Is okay. Human can not control.” Before I can stop myself, I reach a digit out and run it over its cheek, pushing its face to look at me again. "This is blush, question? Grace embarrassed, question?” I can't help but be a scientist first, I guess. The portable human thinking machine has made my life a thousand times easier. I can look up any knowledge about the human body and system, but seeing and experiencing it in person is so much different.

It lets out a small yelp at my sudden touch, making its heart beat more. The blood in its face reaches its ears. Although I want to, I refrain from grabbing at the tips of its ears too. One thing I don't stop myself from doing, however, is dragging that claw down to its neck to feel for the carotid pulse. It's one thing to hear but another to feel, and it's strong. I can feel its blood thump against its skin, rappidly, over and over.

“Amaze.” I murmur without thinking. 

"Uh—umm, Adrian?” The little human squeaks out. It has squeezed its eyes shut and forced its head up to the sky to accommodate my touching.

I let out an amused hum. “Apology.” I retract my claw, curling it back into my lap. I stay quiet, hoping it will calm down. When no calming down happens, I try to pivot to my questions, hoping to distract the human.

"How Grace feeling, Question. Eating well, question?” I ask.

It clears its throat. “Uh, I'm feeling good. Better than I did! And yes, eating well!” he smiles. 

“How are ‘burger’, question?”

“The me-burgers are amazing!” he shouts excitedly, hands moving as he talks. “You literally saved me with those things.” I feel myself get a little flustered at the praise, and I hate it.

“Saved Grace in other ways. More important ways.” I let it click out with some disbelief. I cure and bring this human back from death, but ‘me-burger’ is what saves it. Human priorities are weird and confusing.

“Well, yes," he rolls his eyes a bit. “But humans have a strong connection to the food they eat. Physically and mentally. Mentally I didn't want to eat, even though I was dying of starvation. The food tasted awful and had a horrible texture. Your idea to use my muscle was fantastic!” I feel him shift a little closer to me. “It tastes so much better than the other stuff. You kind of cured my starvation and helped cure my bad mental health at the same time!” It laughs as though what it said was funny and not worrying. Though I did not know how linked the mental state and food were, this information is helpful to know when synthesizing more food for it in the future.

“Adrian will work on making 'me-burger' taste better for optimal mental health and human relationship with food for future.” I mentally add this information as a task to get started on when I get back home.

“You don't have to do that, Adrian. I'm okay with the burger. I promise." It looks away, towards the artificial ocean again.

“Adrian must.” I let out a quiet rumbling for a moment as one of my claws gently plays with the sand beneath me. The human looks back at me. 

“Why?” Its head cocks to the side, in a cute way, with wide eyes.

“For Rocky," is all I say, and I can tell it comes out sad. “Adrian will do anything that Rocky asks of it. For Grace.” I know Grace still needs a translator to some extent, but he is good at picking up tone.

He sighs, "Thank you for coming to see me today. Letting me meet you.” He smiles, but his eyes look sad, lids falling low. “I know you hate me, but…I still appreciate it. Appreciate you and everything you have done.” Its eyes well up with liquid. “I know Rocky puts a lot—too much—on you, and I know he's never home with you. I know that," he sniffs, looking down into his lap. “I-I feel like it's all my fault. I'm so…so useless on my own here. I-I'm such a burden to you…” he starts leaking, and I feel myself starting to panic now. I don't know what to do when a human starts leaking from their face. 

I suddenly feel guilty, not a little guilty but deeply guilty. Grace looks so small sitting beside me. He is smaller than I ever thought he would be. Somehow I convinced myself that Grace was the source of my frustration. Looking at him now, crying into his hands, I realize how unfair that was.

“I don't hate you, Grace.” I try and speak as softly as I can. He presses his hands to his face harder, shielding himself from me.

"It's okay that you do. I would hate me too. I—I do hate me.” His voice cracks and he breathes in sharply. “I’ve ruined what y-you two could have had…” I can tell he's trying his best to keep his emotions in, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face just to have them replaced immediately with fresh ones.

I let out a low, pained coo. Slowly, carefully, I pull the human towards me. I expect it to resist, but Grace practically folds into my arms. The moment his head touches my carapace, he latches on. His fingers clutch at me desperately. I scoop his legs off the sand, holding him gently. 

“Grace. Adrian does not hate you.” My words, which are supposed to be comforting, only seem to make it cry harder. "Adrian frustration is not Grace fault. Grace bring Rocky back to me. Rocky could hate Adrian. Not want to be mates and Adrian would be happy that Rocky alive and well.” Grace pulls his very leaky face from me, looking for a moment but not saying anything while he quietly weeps. 

“I-I know your relationship with Rocky is bad…he acts different.” He babbles over his words, “I know w-why you didn't want to see me; I'm not that s-stupid—” I move my arm up in front, making him stop.

The notion of how fragile and small he is worms its way into my thoughts, and it makes me happy that he trusts me as much as he does. That he wants to be okay in my arms, even though he is adamant that I hate him. I let out a sad trill, running a claw through his hair. 

“Grace save all of Erid. All of Earth. Grace risk life for Rocky. For me. Adrian will never hate Grace.” I scratch gently at his head, bringing my claw down to the side, near his ear. He breathes in deep and leans into the touch. 

“Understand, question?” He nods slightly, but the tears and sobs don’t stop. “Grace.”

“Y-yes…I do.” He shoves his face back into me, pulling his arms to his chest. He shakes with sadness.

I feel myself heat up in embarrassment as I contemplate what to say next. “Adrian has…grown to love taking care of Grace…” Rocky was right. I do enjoy it as much as I told myself I didn't. All those times I pushed my limit on how long I could go without sleep and worked so hard for Rocky and Grace, I did, deep down, enjoy it. “Adrian happy hearing Rocky tell how Grace is happy with new thing.” I hum out rather quickly. 

He seems to perk up at this. “Y-you don’t have to do that, Adrian.” His crying is slowing. I pull off his glasses, placing them into the sand next to us. I wipe a claw over his face.

“Adrian not doing anything but tell truth.” He starts giggling and pushing at my claw. He sniffs while I clear the tears from his face.

“Thank you…” he says, breathing in deep. I move my claw back to his ear to comfort him again, scratching it lightly. He shoots up with a high-pitched noise, and I flinch, pulling my claw back.

“Grace okay, question?” I frantically say, grabbing his chin and moving his head to the side. I trace his ear again, and he flails. “Where hurt, question?”

“W-wahait nohoho!” he squirms about in my hold. “Nohot hururt! Tihihicklish!” he squeaks out. 

Rocky has told me about the human version of tickling before, specifically that Grace is quite fond of it, and it's come up in my research on the human body. It has a similar outcome to Eridian tickling. Laughing and wiggling around. I think this method will be a good way to make Grace feel better. 

I pull my claw away with a hum of understanding, and he relaxes. He's lying in my lap, a small smile across his face, but I still see the faintest tears in his eyes. He moves his face to his hands, still sniffling.

“Hm. Adrian will give Grace check up.” He glances through his fingers.

“W-what?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

I gently pull up his shirt, and he tenses up. He's still quite thin, but fat has definitely started to come back. I reach my claw and grab at his ribs, giving slight squeezes. He jumps with a squeal.

“WAHAhait! Adriahahan!” He presses his arms to his side while twisting in my grasp. I feel around the bones, moving my claws up. His ribs definitely don't stick out as much as they did when I first treated him. I squeeze his top ribs while feeling his chest muscle for any growth.

“NAHAHOHO-AH I-I dohont neheheed a CHEHheheCK UHUP—“ he cackles, trying his best to dislodge my claw.

“Grace need check up from Adrian. Make sure Grace eat well. Check for fat and muscle growth.” I chirp with a playful tone. "Is Adrian job." I moved my claw from under his arm to trail down it, using another claw to pull his arm from his side.

“I-I ahaham! Ihihim eahahating gohohood!” I trace lightly down his arm as he pulls at it. I pinch at his elbow and let out a yelp and some more giggles. There’s some muscle growth here, though definitely not as much as I would like.

“Hm. Not enough.” I trace down to his wrist, then back up to his inner arm.

“Ah-I’m sohorry!” he tugs weakly at his hand, soft laughter leaving him.

“Grace no apology. Adrian work harder to help. Make grace strong.” I murmur it out while thinking of solutions for later.

I release his arm, and he presses it to his side again, his legs trying to come up and curl him into a ball. I stick a claw back down, feeling around his tummy. He screeches, fighting my arm. 

“Good. Much fat and muscle here.” I firmly press in, feeling all the muscles twitch under my touch. “Rocky will be happy.” 

“EEEAHHAHA—NOHOHO!” I hear blood rush to his head again as embarrassment takes him. “S-stohOHOP—ADRIAHAHAN!” He kicks at my carapace, and I can’t help but let out some giggles. He’s so small and weak; it’s amusing. I have to admit his little human sounds are quite cute.

“Grace too ticklish for exam, question?” I tease a bit, vibrating my claw. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly.

“A-ADRIAHAHAN– *SNRK* THIHihis ihihisn’t neheceHESSARY!” squeaky noises come from him.

I grab a flailing foot with another claw, stretching his leg out as my other moves down to his thigh. I push into the muscle there and let out a pleased trill.

“Good human Grace! Much muscle here. Good good good.” His other leg kicks out frantically as his arms scramble to pull at my claw. “Such a good human. Adrian can tell Grace been running. Keep up with regiment. Good Grace!” I half tease, half praise, soaking in the new wave of blush creeping up his face.

I squeeze his knee, and his leg jerks hard. “How joints, question?” I know the gravity on our planet has taken its toll on his body. I scratch lightly at the underside, pulling giggles from him.

“T-they ahahache a bihit, not bahahd!” He covers his face, pulling at his appendage.

“Hm. Will work on problem. Brace maybe help.” I go back up and squeeze rapidly at his kneecap.

“ADRIAHAhahan! P-pleheHEHEASE! NOHOHO MOHOHORE-AHAHEHEhehe—“ I let go of his leg, and he immediately folds in on himself, gasping for air.

“Grace very good. Fat and muscle build good. Will add more magnesium and zinc to diet. Help.” I state, scratching at his scalp, pulling lightly at his hair.

“O-okahahay—“

“One spot Adrian check.” I unfold him a bit and pull down his pants a few inches, then push into his lower stomach, making him scream and fight me again.

“ADRIHIHI—NAHAHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” He squeals, curling around my claw. I squeeze at the little pudge that sits there with content.

“Adrian happy happy happy! Grace get more healthy. Grace doing so good!” His cheeks flush again, ‘hiding’ his face as much as he can while wiggling around.

“NOHOHO—“ I move up a bit and press into his belly button. 

“Yes.” I scratch lightly at the little spot.

“EEEHEHAHA—PLEAHAHASE!” He arches up while making a rather adorable noise.

I stop moving my claw, letting it rest against his tummy. His laughter lingers intertwined with little hiccups and tiny giggles. Different kinds of tears staining his face now. I rub soothing circles into his skin while he catches his breath.

His heartbeat is loud and strong. Alive. Every beat is proof that Rocky made it home. Proof that Grace made it home too. The little pitter patter settles something deep inside me.

He's curled up in my arms, his breathing and heart evening out. He has a smile plastered on his face, and soft giggles still spill from his lips. He wraps his arms around the leg that is still settled on his stomach, and he lets out a sigh. 

“Grace…very endearing. Adrian understand why Rocky love so much.” My admission makes him shove his face in my arm with a flustered noise. I reach a claw up and pet at his head again, sliding to scratch at the base of his neck. He melts into my arms, eyes closing. 

“Thank you. I hope you visit me again.” He shifts a little in my hold.

“Will visit. Promise." his small frame shifting to look at me again. “Adrian apologize for not seeing Grace sooner.” Guilt floods my chords.

"No, it's okay. I understand why.” He laughs slightly. "I would be upset at me too.”

“Not upset at Grace. Or Rocky. Adrian understand situation. Adrian knows feeling not logical. No one fault.” I rumble out gently. "Adrian apologize. Not Grace fault. Grace save Rocky. Adrian forever be in Grace dept. Should not have taken feelings out on Grace Rocky.” I move my claw to under his chin, scratching slightly. He smiles wide, scrunching up his shoulders a bit but tilting his head up, giving me more access.

"It's okay.”

“Is not," frustration lacing my voice. His eyes widen slightly. I can't get over what he said. "Grace really not like Grace, question?” He looks away as I lower my claw from his chin.

“I just–I hate the way I'm so helpless here, I guess? I rely on so many Eridians just to wake up and take a walk. I don't, like, hate myself. I feel like a burden to you and Rock–”

“Grace good burden. Adrian like Grace burden.” I see his heart rate start to rise again. I stroke his forehead as I see tears start to swell in his eyes again. He sniffs and takes a deep inhale. 

“Okay, question?” I say firmly.

He wipes at his eyes. “O-okay.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

“Adrian?” Rocky's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed it sneak up on me.

“Rocky! How was the meeting?” I ask tenderly. The waves crash softly in front of us.

Instead of answering me, its carapace shifts down, its attention on the little human asleep in my lap. It seems to look in shock and awe as I pet Grace. After a moment, it lets out a small excited sound, something I haven't heard in months. 

“D-Did it go well?” Its voice vibrates from joy, already knowing the obvious answer.

I let out a giggle. “Yes. Me and Grace had a good talk.” I bring my claw to scratch at his scalp. He shifts, making adorable little purring noises in his sleep. 

Rocky walks up in front of me and Grace. "I'm very, very, very happy!” it trills, bringing up its claws and shaking them. 

“Me too," I reply fondly. Rocky suddenly stops; the atmosphere around it changes abruptly.

“Are…we okay?” I let out a small, pained sound as Rocky moves a bit closer to me. 

“Yes. I am sorry, my love. I was never mad at you. I apologize for any hurt I have caused.” I reach an arm out, hoping it will come to me.  ' I placed my emotions on you both when shouldn't have."

They come closer, about to take my claw, but hesitates. “I am sorry too. I have not been home with you to spend time or watch you sleep. I had you work nonstop on Grace, not thinking of your thoughts or feelings. I am sorry.” It shifts back and forth, two claws fidgeting together. “Do you still need space?”

“Rocky, I know why you did it. I do not blame you," I whisper out softly. “I would love nothing more than for you to be in my arms.” 

It takes my claw immediately. It was as if I were afraid I might change my mind. I gently pull Rocky closer until it's pressed into me and Grace. The tension leaves its body so quickly it almost makes me laugh. I start caressing it the same way I'm doing with Grace, and exhaustion immediately starts pulling at it again. In my arms, it softens, and I can feel sleep beginning to take hold. A low rumbling starts deep inside Rocky. So sleepy and content with both of us here. I've missed that sound.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ🛸༄˖°.

For the most part, I had rummaged through just about every drawer, door, and compartment available to me on the Hail Mary.

Boredom had gotten the better of me before Rocky came along, so I kept busy by rooting around in the crew cabin for whatever I could find - whether pertinent to the mission or not.

Most of it was useless to me, but the hunt was fun enough.

There was one door, though, nestled in the corner of the dormitory, that was sealed off with a number lock - the kind you’d find on a bike lock - and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the combination.

I tried everything. The date of the launch, Yao’s birthday, Ilyukhina’s birthday… heck, even my own. No matter what four digits I entered, nothing worked.

“What Grace doing, question?”

I nearly jumped out of my pants. How didn’t I hear him approach?

“Nothing, buddy, nothing. Just trying this door again.” I huffed, sitting back in defeat.

“You try many times with door. Never work. Why question? What inside door, question?”

“I dunno. That’s why I’m trying to get it open. The curiosity is killing me- but I just can’t figure out the combination…” I mutter, now just spinning the number wheels in annoyance.

“Why not break, question? Break metal barrier off. Much faster.”

I pause, considering for a moment. “Good idea, but I don’t think they outfitted the Hail Mary with toolshed bolt cutters, Rock. And if they did…”

I flick the thick metal arch of the lock with my finger

“I don’t think it’d get through metal this sturdy”

Rocky wiggles in place, thinking for a moment.

“I make.”

“What?”

“I make 🎶 with xenonite. Very strong. Will cut through metal.”

I smile, noting the new word for “bolt cutter” in my mind. “Xenonite is incredible stuff” I say with a nod. “Yeah, okay! That’ll work!”

-

Just as I start to get bored of waiting, Rocky appears, bounding down his tunnel, with… incredibly accurate bolt utters. Impressive, considering I hadn’t given him any specifications

“Here! Try, try, try!”

Rocky slides the things through his side of the airlock beside my bed. I know better than to touch something fresh out of his atmospheric conditions, so I grab a spare pair of EVA gloves from the drawer just above and to the left of my mystery door, slip them on, and grab Rocky’s new tool.

“This’ll do nicely!” I say with a grin. I crawl over to the little door. Rocky scuttled his way beside me as I positioned the blades around the solid metal of the lock.

I’d like to think I’m a strong man. No bogdybuilder, but definitely not a twig either.

This however, was making me look like a twig. I grunted, gritting my teeth as I used all the strength in my body to sever the metal. After an embarrassing 15 seconds, I resorted to using the wall for leverage, positioning one arm of the bolt cutters against the smooth steel wall, and with my body weight, I pushed on the other arm. Not wise, considering I was purring my full trust into one, thin, point of contact.

And I lost my balance.

With a sharp yelp, the bolt utters slipped out from under me, sending me careening into the wall, my shoulder blade banging against the… still open… drawer.

“AGH-! Cheese on rice-!” I so maturely swore, rubbing a hand over my shoulder.

“Grace! Grace! You okay, question?! Hurt, question?!”

Rocky chirped anxiously, tapping on the wall of his ball.

“Yes, yes buddy I’m okay- didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it looked like it would.” I was really saying that for Rocky’s sake. Truthfully, that hurt pretty bad. Nothing that a little ice and a break from activity couldn’t-

“Physical distress detected.”

I froze. Armando must’ve heard the commotion.

“No no Armando. I’m alright. No need for-“

“Yes! Grave, hurt!” Rocky yelped out, bouncing back-and-forth nervously in his ball, clearly still concerned. I have to admit, it is pretty nice to know that he cares about me enough to flip his lid over what can’t possibly be more than a bruise.

Without another word, along, sleek, robotic arm, approaches me, ready to drag me over to my bed for medical attention. “Fine- fine. But I can walk there myself. No need to drag me.” I mutter, standing up begrudgingly, and plopping down on my bed for Robo-Nurse to have a look at me.

Rocky parks himself at my feet, staring up at me with his… absence of eyes, clearly still worried. I smile at him, earning a trill in reply.

Armando tugs at my shirt, attempting to remove it. Stuff like that doesn’t work nearly as well on a patient that’s conscious and upright, so I help out, and slide my shirt off with a sigh, setting it to the side.

“Bruising detected.”

Armando announces. Sounds about right.

“See bud? I told you it’s nothing to worry about! Just a little br-“

“Scanning for additional injuries.”

“Huh-?” Before I can protest, Armando has lowered a robotic hand to the back of my shoulder. Three rubber knobs, make contact with my skin, not unlike one of those massage guns they use in physical therapy. Never was a big fan of those. Glad this one doesn’t vibrate. 

Oh. It does.

Without any sort of warning, the three knobs of Armando‘s hand begin to vibrate softly. Only strong enough to bounce some sound waves through my skin, but definitely quick enough for me to react

“GAH-! Armando- e-enough-!” I bark out, lurching my torso forward.

Rocky tilts his carapace, not entirely sure how I went from yelling in pain, to yelling in surprise, with a lopsided smile on my face.”

“ why Grace smile, question? Not in pain question? “ he asks, taking a step closer

I regain a bit of composure, sitting up straight, and breathing through the brutal med-bot checkup. “N-no, no- tch- no pain. ProhAh-aHA-!”

I let out a rather unflattering sound- something between a manic hyena and a frightened dog.

Rocky sits patiently. A bit confused, but patient nonetheless. Little guy must not know what to make of any of this.

“Please specify areas of discomfort.”

“NO-! Armondo, enough-! Y-you’re tickling me-!” I cry out, ducking and weaving away from the metal assailant.



“No understand. What that mean, question?”

Cripes sake. Now I’ve got us somehow find a way to explain what tickling is while in the thick of it…



“Please specify areas of discomfort.”

I ignore Armando.

“It- hahA! It’s essentially- a ph-phenomenon where *snort* the human nervous systehehem reacts to.beibg touched a certain way, in certain places.” I say slowly, shooting upright again as Armondo’s hand rolls across my spine.

“AYWHAHA-! It- it makes us- it makes us laugh. Wes aren’t sure why.”

Rocky trills in thought, swinging from side to side as he observes the scene before him.

“ very strange. Human tickle all over, question?”

I shiver, knowing it’s no use getting up or running away. Armando could drag me back here like a sack of potatoes if he wanted to.

“Please specify areas of discomfort.”

“Shuhuhut UP-! And no, not everywhere. Specific plahahaces. It’s different for everyone.” Ah what the heck. It can’t get much worse than this, so I tell Rocky the specifics. “For me it- it’s mohohostly the back, knees, and under here-“ I gesture under my arms. As I finish my sentence, Armondo pauses.

“Discomfort reported on: back. Knees. Pectoralis major.”

My eyes widen, and my muscles go stiff.

“Armando- no- no no no ABORT. ABORT. CANCEL-“ I shout at the robotic nurse as a second mechanical arm reaches towards me, completely and utterly ignoring my pleas. With skilled precision, the second hand found its way under my arms- I suppose the armpit muscle is called “pectoralis major”.

I crumple to my side, then onto my stomach, cackling like a madman, as my alien friend (who was doing NOTHING to help) continues to ask me questions.

“Why move like in pain, but laugh, question?” He asks, scooting his ball closer to my bed

“AHAHA- O- WE DON’T KNOHOW FOR SURE- aHA-!” I bark out. “LEADING TH-THEORY IS- HAHA- PRIMITIVE SELF DEFENSE RESPONSE.”

My words begin to slur together as my frantic babbling picks up speed. Armando’s vibrating sensors focus themselves on the center of my spine, circling like metal and silicone vultures, searching for nonexistent injuries. I bury my face into my pillow, cackling like a crow.

Definitely not my proudest moment.

“Where other humans tickle, question? You only mention where you tickle.”

Rocky asks. I’ve had just about enough of this. Plus, I really didn’t want Armando assuming my naming of other body parts was me telling him where else to poke and prod me.

“LATER. LAHAHATER. WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT LATER. JUST- HIT ARMANDO’S KILLSWITCH. OHOHON THE WALL.”

I all but command. I didn’t mean to sound so stern, but my chest was starting to ache, and I needed a break. 

“Grace no answer science question, question?” He sounded disappointed. I’ll make it up to him some other time.

“NOHOHOW ROCKY!” I shouted, voice breaking through laughter. Rocky chirped, a startled sound. He’s scuttled his way over to the wall, nudging his habitat ball into Armando‘s reset button.

The reset button wasn’t a permanent off switch. Essentially, it worked like a forced reset on a phone or a laptop, shutting down all running programs in returning him to a neutral, stable state.

And that’s exactly what happened. With a descending, electrical groan, Armando‘s arms went limp, allowing me to crawl out from beneath them. I sat up on the edge of the bed, catching my breath, head hung heavily at chest level. After about a minute, Armando powered back on with a series of beeps, clicks , and motor whirs. 

I weakly reached over for my shirt, which I discarded at the beginning of the whole ordeal, and slid it on. I did it backwards, but I couldn’t have cared any less.

“ Grace alright, question? You look tired.”

“M’fine. Overwhelmed, but fine.” I mumble, sitting up straight and calming a hand through my hair. 

“ Good, good, good.” Rocky paused for a moment, tapping one of his claws, oddly on the floor of his ball. “ Grace answer science questions later, question?” He asked meekly

I smiled softly, throwing myself onto my back on my bed, watching Armando’s arms slowly retract up towards the dormitory ceiling. “Yes, later, rocky. For now, I’m taking a nap. Feel free to watch.” I say with a heavy sigh. 

“Yes yes. You sleep. I watch. Science later. Good plan.” Rocky chirps happily, making himself comfortable beside the bed, as I drifted off.

I remember reading a research study that one of my students had done a paper on. If you put a human in an empty, monotonous lab with nothing to occupy their time besides a button that delivers an electric shock, then 9/10 times the person would end up shocking themselves. Over and over. And it didn't take long for them to do so - they would shock themselves about every 15 minutes. People would genuinely rather be electrocuted than be bored. I try not to think the choice of topic was a diss to my lectures, but I also remember sending the same kid (Emma!) to the nurse more than once for tipping her chair backwards and straight on her head during class, so.

Stratt downloaded every piece of media in the history of the world on these super computers, but there's only so much looking at a screen a person can do before the Migraine of All Time attacks. Especially when your watch partner can't see screens and demands a puppet show reenactment of every moment.

Rocky probably has it worse there. He has to rely on my puppet-acting for entertainment, but the guy is over 200 years old and has some serious boredom-tolerance. Unfortunately, that makes it easy for him to bait me, a puny human who's been getting more and more bored and agitated as the days pass.

I know that he knows what he's doing, and it just gets under my skin more.

He's just called my crude model of the Death Star ugly for the last time (I put hard work into it. For his stupid sake!) and before I know what I'm doing, the ball of aluminum and two paper-plane starfighters are thrown across the room and I'm charging at Rocky with intent.

I think of bored humans and their electric shocks. I think of Emma and her chair-tipping. This can't end well for me.

I make contact with the xenonite ball and obviously fail at pushing it over. It's all the more infuriating that Rocky doesn't flinch or scoot back even a little.

"What Grace doing, question? Hug?" There's a lot of amusement in his tones.

"I'm- urgh! Fighting you!"

"All Rocky say was icosahedron make bad space station."

"It's a sphere. You know it's a sphere!"

"Ohh. Not look like sphere at all. Easy mistake."

Rocky chirps a laugh, and that sets me off again. I shove my hand through the mesh bit of his ball and grab at one of his arms. I can't do much else - I think I was hoping to yank it out from under him before I realized there was no way that was happening. I hope I didn't pull anything in my own arm.

Great, he's got a grip on my wrist now and I can't get it back out.

"Grace start fight knowing can't win? Very brave."

I keep trying to get my arm out, which he oh so slowly keeps pulling further in with hardly any effort. Just to be an A-hole.

"Ah- okay. Turn off the centrifuge," I grunt. "Fight me like a man." I say it as seriously as I can, but inside I'm kind of excited to let some steam out through wrestling. Maybe this is what we need to stave the boredom off.

"Will not make any difference."

My entire arm is basically in his hamster ball now. My face and limbs are pressed up ridiculously against the xenonite. An image of holding back an angry kid's weak and flailing attack with nothing but a disrespectful hand to the forehead flashes through my mind. It makes me laugh, dang it.

Oh! New memory: drunk college wrestling. I didn't participate often, because people take cheap shots when they're drunk. Which I'm going to do now.

Instead of pulling, I reach the rest of my arm in and knock rapidly and unrhythmically against the side of his carapace (Eridian tickling - I wish I documented that enlightening conversation before I sent off the beetles.) I've never actually tried this before, but I think it works, because he squeaks in shocked laughs and I grin evilly before my wrist is captured again and - oh my god, no! I'm an idiot!

Three entirely too dexterous hands are immediately on the points of contact I told him about during my turn of that dumb anatomy lesson: fleshy sides, ribs, armpit.

I shriek out laughter and try to yank my arm back in - dislocation risk be damned. When it fails, it just starts spazzing in his grip - as does the rest of my body. I briefly think of electric shocks (who knows why?) before I stop being able to think anything at all.

The ribs are where it's the worst, I suppose, because that's where my one and only other hand goes to try and block, but I'm flush against the xenonite and it doesn't work. I'm trapped and he's really not stopping. He's just trilling in a way that sounds like Eridian for <tickletickletickle>. I spazz again and slap the barrier to tap out.

We haven't established tapping out, and maybe Erid has no concept of mercy. Maybe that's just Rocky, because I'm cackling with the most amount of desperation I've felt in awhile (yeah, I said it) and he's really really really not stopping. I'm doomed.

"Grace say apology."

"S-s-ahaHAHA!!" I can't do much better than that. I'm kicking and screaming and - oh geez, crying. Already? He takes a hand away from the ribs (hallelujah) but the other two stay the same pace, and I can't stop squirming. I fail to dislodge the claws for even just a second. "Sorry sorry sorry!!!"

Rocky laughs. He sounds like a monster. "Say icosahedron not sphere and make bad, not good engineered space station."

I wail. "Roc-roCKY! Ple-ease!"

He lets me go and I flop on my back, rolling a good six feet away. He tries to walk towards me, but I maintain the same distance by rolling some more.

Rocky whistles low. "Grace died? Too much tickle, question?"

I'm still smiling, so I don't even try to glare. "You... you're a million times heavier.. and have ten more arms than I do!"

A chirp of real concern. "Grace bad bad bad at math - more than normal. Will not do again. Sorry."

And, well. I mean. As nice as it is to breathe again right now, I'm definitely not bored out of my mind anymore. We still have two years on this trek - I'm sure I'll get antsy again. No need to put a stop to some of the only exercise I can get on this ship already.

"I was exaggerating- hang on-" I clear my throat because it comes out embarrassingly high and hoarse. "No, I'm not accepting that just happened. We gotta have a rematch - a round two," I correct for translation. "With no gravity, though. I'll get you then, I swear it. We're doing this again." I'm grateful he can't see colors in this moment.

There's a bit of a silence before he trills.

"Oh. So Grace does feel better, question?"

I smile and roll my eyes, thinking about it. The ship doesn't feel as suffocating anymore. My boredom-fueled agitation is thoroughly washed away for the moment.

Somehow, he’s managed to pin you flat on your spine, and his back is turned as he sits beside you, partially leaned across your chest. All you can do is push at his back and shoulders while he kneads all around your belly and sides, occasionally trailing down just a bit to slot his thumbs into the dips of your hips and squeeze.

He had made a big show of ever so slowly pulling your shirt up just below your ribs, and then reaching down to pull the waistband of your pajama bottoms down just far enough to expose your hips and lower belly before he got started- which seems like forever ago to you right now.

Not that you’ve really been able to keep track of the time, but you’ve taken several minutes of this already, with a couple of small “breaks” that consisted of him lightly trailing his fingertips over your flushed skin.

What had been threats and swears have since turned into nearly incoherent pleading and pitiful giggles. He’s talking. You know he is, he has been this entire time— teasing you when you let out a particularly cute noise, or commenting on how adorable it is that you’re kicking and squirming like it’s actually going to help somehow— but you can’t hear him over yourself. What little you can hear doesn’t register.

The only thing you’re absolutely sure of right now is that he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this to you— just held you down and played with you until he decides he’s done. He has, on several occasions, told you that he’s pretty sure they just sent you up here as his stress toy- only jokingly of course, though it being a joke doesn’t stop it from flustering you beyond belief.

This time around though, he doesn’t account for visitors, and when he brings his hands to the center of your belly, one clawing at the plush spot below your navel while the other spiders above it, the shrill squeal it draws out evidently catches the attention of a concerned bystander.

You don’t hear the rumbling noise of Rocky’s ball rolling towards the two of you, and you don’t register his voice when he starts squawking at Ryland about your predicament. Everything is fuzzy, and you shudder as you try to blink through the brain fog.

It takes you several seconds to realize that you can breathe, and you seemingly have a moment of reprieve as Ryland tries to calm Rocky down.

When you do manage to get your bearings, you see Rocky shifting from leg to leg and waving his arms wildly at Ryland before he notices that you’re alert, and he very quickly rolls his way beside your head.

“Friend okay, question?”, he asks, his voice high pitched as he taps on his ball, “Breathing okay, question?”. He rattles off several other questions but all you can manage out is a weak “uh huh” and a thumbs up as your chest heaves.

“See, Rock?”, Ryland starts, “They’re perfectly fine. I told you they’re not dying.”

You would have objected to that if you weren’t still in such a compromising position.

“Everything’s okay. It’s just tickling.”

You huff, bringing your hands up to cover your red face as Rocky lets out an inquisitive chirp and rolls back over to Grace.

“Tickling, question?”, he murmurs. You groan, "Rocky please-"

Ryland sighs, waving you and nodding at the alien. He should have known Rocky wouldn’t really know what it is. Even if they have something similar on Erid, it almost definitely would look much different for them.

“Yes, tickling. Think of it like… like- uh, playing, I guess. Most humans are ticklish, which means parts of their body are sensitive to touch— particularly areas that cover vital organs, or spots that aren’t typically exposed to touch.”

“Hmmm…”, Rocky hums, “Why?”

There’s a pause, save for the muffled sound of you grumbling at Ryland to "please stop talking".

“Well, um, I guess it’s like a defense mechanism. To protect those spots. When you touch them in certain ways- like squeezing or poking, that’s what we call tickling, and it makes humans laugh”, he glances back at you, the corner of his lip tilting upwards ever so slightly before he looks back at Rocky, “Or in some cases, squeal. Or beg.”

You turn your head, refusing to look at Ryland out of pettiness and also the sake of your own dignity. Actually, it’s primarily for the sake of your own dignity.! Rocky seems to understand, as well as he can at least, and the brief silence that hangs in the air makes your stomach twist before the both of them speak at the same time. "Show Rocky." "Would you like a demonstration?" You knew it was coming, and still your breath hitches as you twist in Ryland's grip, but you're just as stuck as you were before. The noise you let out can only be described as a whimper, but it's immediately interrupted by a loud squeal when you feel his fingertips trail gently up and down the sides of your belly. "Nononono, Ryland, please-!", you babble out, trying to pull your knees to your chest in a desperate attempt to protect yourself, but you're ignored as Grace pushes them right back down and starts to explain your reaction to Rocky. "Usually, they wouldn't react like that right away, but the longer you tickle someone, the more sensitive those spots get. You can't see this, but this skin right here is already really red." Rocky bounces up and down a bit, paying close attention to Grace's hands, "Red. Why red, question?" You tremble when his hands trail further up, closer to your ribs, just to trail all the way down to your hips. You're in a constant fit of giggles. You know it’s only going to get worse, and the anticipation is driving you mad, but you can tolerate this much better than what he was putting you through just a few minutes ago. "Two reasons, actually. Humans turn red when they're flustered but the tickling itself stimulates blood flow, especially if I were to be just a little bit meaner," your eyes widen, and you shake your head, "like this". You try to arch your back when light tracing turns to quick clawing, but he has a firm hold on you. "You hear that?", he asks when bubbly giggles turn to desperate laughter. "That's because there are different ways to tickle people. Different spots and methods get different reactions." He brings his hands down, squeezing rapidly at your hipbones before he squeezes all the way up your sides to your ribs, and then back down again. You kick uselessly, shaking your head and pleading through cackles, which only encourages him. Rocky can't help but feel just a little bad for you as he rolls over to watch you a little more closely, "Why telling Grace to stop if it's just play, question?" "Because I don't like it!", you whine. You can see Ryland's shoulders shake a bit as he laughs at that. Rocky perks up, slightly concerned as he rolls back over to look at your captor, who speaks before Rocky has a chance to voice his worries. "They're a liar." The way he says it so matter-of-factly would be insulting if it wasn't true. "Most people don't like being tickled. It doesn't really feel... good", he circles his nails around your navel while the other claws at your lower belly. "Think about if you had a really bad itch, and you can't scratch it, and the longer you go without scratching it, the more intense it gets. And maybe it starts in one spot, but it can spread all over your body, and you can't do anything to stop it. That's what tickling feels like." Rocky shifts left to right at the description of it, and it only makes him feel a little worse for you in that moment. "Your friend over here, though...", Ryland starts, and you're so glad you can't see his face because you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "Well, they love it. They will absolutely never, ever admit that for two reasons. One, they're all embarrassed about it because they think it's weird, blah blah blah", he rolls his eyes. "Two, I would literally never let them live that down, like ever." "Hmm," Rocky hums before letting out a soft trill, "Why ask Grace to stop if they like it, question?" You so desperately want to tell Rocky to please stop asking questions, but you're certain that's much too long of a sentence to get out coherently, and you’re far past the point of intelligible speech.

Grace is thrilled. He gets to do his two very favorite things: bestow knowledge upon an eager to learn mind, and tickle you out of yours.

“Well, it’s an instinct, and human instincts can be weird. Tickling is a really overwhelming sensation, even for someone who likes it. So, they’ll try to make it stop— or, beg for it to stop if they’re otherwise incapacitated.”

As if on queue, you let out a weak, pitiful “please” when he vibrates five fingers in the very center of your belly.

“See, I’m being very, very nice. No matter how much they beg, or squirm, or ask me so very nicely to stop, I know they don’t really wanna get away. Isn’t that right?”.

You can tell from the tone switch the last bit was meant for you— probably the first bit too— but you’re confident that he’s very aware you were not listening. You take a deep, greedy breath when tickling fingertips turn to a firm palm, rubbing soothingly against your skin.

At first, you don’t respond, but, you nod at him when he shifts to face you, still leaned over you with his head propped on your sternum. You have no idea what he was asking you. You don’t really care either. All you can focus on is catching your breath and behaving as well as you possibly can, even as you eye Ryland wearily.

Not that your “behavior” has ever swayed him to be nice.

Rocky rolls around to the two of you, idling at your head. You glance up at him for just a moment, a small smile still on playing at your lips as your breath finally evens out. You hadn’t noticed you were still giggling, and fortunately, neither of them comment on it.

“You got any other questions, bud?”, Grace asks Rocky, but his eyes are on you, and his tone is notably softer.

You’re so relieved it’s over. You can finally let your guard down, relax, and just let Grace take care of you.

And then, Rocky lets out a small chirp, just as you close your eyes and let your head lull to the side.

“Grace said other spots are ticklish too, question?”

Your eyes widen instantly, only for you to be met with the devious grin growing on Ryland’s face.

You should have known Rocky would have more questions, and Ryland definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to torment you in the name of education.

You whimper, giving him an absolutely pitiful little look, but before you can protest, he’s already positioned above your head, pulling your arms up and pinning them under his legs.

“Rocky, bud, I know I’ve already said this but I think you and I are going to get along perfectly.”

————