#he's cute...........................................................................

When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.

But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.

Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.

“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.

Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.

But for a few years (cough, decades, cough), a baby pebble is about as hard as a soft-shelled turtle—or a normal turtle, if they're a bit older. Disadvantages aside, there is an advantage to being able to see your offspring's internal functions. And until their vocal bladders form and they're capable of making multiple complex sounds, being able to see what is hurting is absolutely helpful.

It's a universal experience among parents to lament the day they can no longer hear their pebbles' heartbeats.

That is to say, Rocky knows Grace is an adult, okay? He isn't someone who anthropomorphizes, and he isn't going to start now. Statement.

But when he first heard Grace in all his squishy glory— heart pumping away, lungs filling and deflating, organs digesting food— his brain went full baby-fever mode. Frankly, he was white-knuckling the urge to find the nearest hypothetical cave, bundle him up into a proper nest, and wait for his skin to absorb the surrounding minerals and start hardening properly.

But because Rocky is sensible and proper and not going to infantilize his best friend (he swears to God, stupid fucking instincts, shut the fuck up!!), he won't.

But sometimes the urge to squish his best friend is overwhelming. He just pinches at him through the permeable mesh of his ball. And Grace will screw up his face (so soft) and go what’s up bud? I piss you off or something? (He learns what bruises are and sulks for half a day afterward.)

All of that aside, once again, Rocky has gotten used to Grace's heartbeat, his clumsiness, and his one-tone voice. That's his best friend, and he's smart and just as capable as any other adult. He is also the cutest fucking thing to Eridian hearing. Is he also disconcertingly alien, definitely— His size, the limbs, the head protrusion (and other protrusions), the leakiness detracted maybe. But his cluster-sibling once cooed at and brought home a pet sulphur slug because, oh my spirits, hear his squishy respiratory system and you tell me that's not the cutest thing on the planet! It blurbles, Rocky! It fucking blurbles!

So, as Erid draws closer and Rocky/Grace become more excited and stressed. (The food has yet to run out, and as good as Erid is, they need substantial help from the human side to figure out how to make proper human nutrition. And finding the right informational packs in all of human knowledge is a very big undertaking.)