Firefly

It takes about seven months for Grace to stop slowly dying while on Erid, and those seven months are spent puking, sleeping, speedreading a bunch of medical text, and becoming somewhat of a doctor (the MD kind) to help push the Eridian scientists in the right direction. 

It's a lot of work and he almost chews his own leg off from how frustrated he is over certain aspects of his own biology, but then the osteoporosis is gone and so is the jaundice, and he's right as rain when he's moved into his biosphere and promptly told to enjoy the rest of his life being a bum, because that's what the savior of Erid deserves, silly. 

During those months of recovery and feeling like he's back in college again, Grace can admit he's a bit lacking in social cues. Not that he was the best at it even back on Earth, but when he was actively suffering from scurvy and passing out from the severe anemia every other day, he wasn't exactly observing the behaviors of everyone around him. 

In fact, the only person he can truly and desperately focus on is Rocky, who is, heh, his rock. 

Lame joke, but whatever. 

Rocky is as annoying, bullheaded, stubborn, and kind as ever. He honks like a freaking train any time the doctors check up on Grace, fully convinced that they're going to kill him somehow, even though they're also furiously pouring themselves over medical text alongside him and test things multiple times before even trying to give him something. 

Rocky likes to fuss over Grace, patting him anxiously with his claws whenever Grace has to puke up another slurry, and has even taken up on a bad habit of screeching at the top of his metaphorical lungs whenever he feels like Eridian politicians should leave Grace alone. 

It's sweet. 

Grace clings to him like some sort of pathetic little pet, and it isn't until the second week of Rocky trying to scramble into bed with him in Grace's new house and knead his back that it occurs to him. 

“Rock,” Grace says, trying not to flush too much when the warm xenonite of Rocky's flexible exosuit reaches out and rucks up his shirt, revealing just enough skin for Rocky to start massaging his spine. 

“What is it, Grace?” Rocky says, sounding distracted as he rubs gently at Grace so that he doesn't accidentally get bruised. “Whatever you need, Rocky will get. Statement.” 

“Uh, right,” Grace says, feeling a bit stupid when Rocky's claws skitter down a bit more and nearly brushes the hem of his pants. “I just - look, you know how much I appreciate you. Seriously. You're, like, the light of my life and everything.” 

Rocky makes a noise akin to a purr, and it nearly makes Grace's brain turn to mush as he says, “Rocky expects to be considered nothing less. I will never let you be alone again.” 

“Yeah, bud,” Grace says hoarsely, sniffling lightly and blindly swatting behind him when Rocky giggles at his ‘leakiness’. “But I just wanted to ask about Adrian.”

Rocky's claw pauses only for a microsecond before assuming its work. 

Grace feels it, though, and he can further feel the hesitation in Rocky's beautiful voice as he says, “is there something Grace wants to know about Adrian, question?” 

“Yeah. Where is he?” Grace asks, tucking his chin into his folded arms and gauging how spooked Rocky is based on his nervous chittering. Hmm. Something's definitely up, and Grace has no intention of letting it go, especially since he can literally feel Rocky moving anxiously above him. “I haven't seen a single hair of him since I got here. I thought you wanted us to meet.” 

“Adrian does not have hair,” Rocky says avoidantly. 

This gets Grace to lift his upper body up on his arms and twist his waist to shoot Rocky an incredulous look. It's not like Rocky has eyes to perceive it, but they've been around each for so much and so long that he's tuned in to every one of Grace's microexpressions, which is why Grace knows that Rocky knows that Grace isn't going to stop. 

“You and I both know I don't mean that literally,” Grace says, trying in vain to sit up properly but unable to with the way Rocky stubbornly stays on his butt. “We've watched too much Grey's Anatomy for you to dance around my metaphors. What's going on with you? Why're you being so shifty?” 

“Rocky is a sturdy and unmovable object. The only shifty thing here is your pathetic excuse for a spine,” Rocky says firmly, digging in one of his knuckles and making a clicking sound of disapproval when Grace yelps. “See? You are still experiencing pain. Your tiny fractures haven't healed completely.” 

“It only hurts because you dug the equivalent of a dang river stone into my nerves, you prick.” Grace grits out, and after squirming a bit more, Rocky relents and lifts himself up on his limbs just enough so Grace can turn over and look at him fully. “You remember our rule, right?” 

Rocky makes a small humming sound that Grace knows is the equivalent of a sigh. 

When they were still on the Hail Mary during their journey to Erid, they'd had only a single, nasty fight that had resulted in neither of them speaking to each other for a solid two days. It had been the most painful thing Grace had experienced in a long time, and after apologies had been exchanged, they'd established a rule neither of them could ever break. 

Never go to bed angry.

It's not meant to be taken literally in the sense that it only applies to fights or anger; after all, neither Grace nor Rocky are particularly aggressive when it comes to each other, so the rule that Grace steals from some cheesy romcom movie is that when they genuinely ask for the truth, the other has to give it. 

It never fails them, and judging by how Rocky is fidgeting with his thumbs, he's aware he can't get out of this, and so Grace settles comfortably onto the bed, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm into the xenonite suit while he patiently waits. 

“When we came back home, Rocky told Adrian about everything that happened. How we saved the stars, and also how we saved each other,” Rocky says slowly, sounding reluctant as he fully lowers himself so that his center of gravity is off Grace and thankfully doesn't crush him. “He understands that you and I… that we…” 

“That we what?” Grace says, honestly feeling quite lost when Rocky trails off. 

“That you and I are tied together,” Rocky says. “That we have experiences no other can feel.” 

Oh. 

Grace swallows a bit thickly as he processes Rocky's words at a pace he can only describe as snail in molasses. 

During Grace's first few months on Erid, he'd been seen by countless doctors and scientist, all of whom had been desperately eager to heal him and make sure he thrived. Among the physiological aspects of his health, he'd also talked quite frequently with some of the most renowned psychologists on the planet, and all of them had concluded one thing about him: 

He has a severe codependency on Rocky, and vice versa. It's to the point that Grace knows Rocky is required to attend therapy if he wants to continue working at his previous engineering company, and some part of Grace knows that what they are to each other isn't the epitome of healthiness. 

Back on Earth, Grace had done a lot of dismantling in terms of his own ideas of relationships and family and friends once he got burned a few too many times. 

Part of it was the idea that Grace had to accept he couldn't overly rely on anyone else for his successes or happiness. As cheesy as it sounds, he honestly does believe he's fully capable of functioning without high emotional attachment, even though it sounds unpleasant and it made him pound three bags of vodka after he first woke up on Mary. 

It's different with Rocky, though. 

Maybe it's the experience of going through several life and death situations together, or maybe it's because - no, that's definitely it. 

Grace needs Rocky. 

He'd abandoned his planet, his home, his fellow humans, all of it, just for even a chance to save the one being he truly thought of as what he'd been missing the entire time he'd been on Earth. 

Without Rocky, Grace knows he would have died on Mary. He simply would have died. 

Grace absentmindedly scratches at the scar on his arm. 

“Wait,” Grace says slowly, starting to piece together the underlying guilt and reluctance in Rocky's musical tones. He struggles to say it out loud, but the idea is so ridiculous that he has to, otherwise he'll drive himself insane with it. “So what're you saying? Adrian understands that we're like Sam and Dean, but there's a but about it?” 

“That's a horrible reference.” Rocky makes a sound similar to an indignant sniff. “But yes. He knows I cannot live without you and you me.” 

Grace shivers minutely at the easy confession. 

Jesus. 

It's one thing to think it, but to hear it out loud makes his spine bloom with warmth. He hopes that Rocky won't take notice of how his heart practically skips a beat, and he says, “so then what's the problem?” 

Rocky shimmies in place. He kneads at Grace's stomach, ignoring the way the human vaguely complains about feeling like a ball of dough, and Rocky finally says, “we got into a fight.” 

Oh boy. 

“I'm sorry,” Grace says earnestly, smoothing a hand over Rocky's warm carapace and rubbing a thumb over a particularly soft edge of the suit. “What happened? Was it bad?” 

“Bad, bad, bad,” Rocky chitters. “He thinks you are here to steal me away. He is distraught that Rocky will leave him for Grace.” 

Grace stares.