#waa

At first he's only pleasantly surprised, alright! A new thing to wear! The muscle memory kicks in before he realizes, and Grace brings the shirt in for a quick sniff-test. He feels his heart stop for a moment.

Where grace was worried about a smell, there is instead a scent. A soft scent, layered with detergent and perfume or maybe cologne and something else indistinguishable but oh so very present that can only come from being worn by the same person so many times.

The shirt smells like another person.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly Grace shoves the shirt into his face and inhales deeply, but he couldn't be bothered to worry about that. The last time he encountered an unfamiliar smell still haunts him down to his bones, but this? The smell of a well-loved shirt, the smell of another human being? He only acknowledges the tears pouring from him as a means to not get them on the fabric and wash out the scent.

There's too many emotions at once. Comfort and grief and loneliness and satisfaction and the awful pre-emptive fear over when the scent will inevitably fade. Grace can only cling tightly to the shirt and breathe in.

Of course Rocky has questions when he notices how long Grace has been curled up with a shirt stuffed to his face. Grace isn't much help explaining, either, muttering about a reminder of crewmates, muffled from the cloth covering his mouth. The underlying message is there, though, and Rocky gives him some space.

Rocky had scent explained to him, but the concept still trips him up on occasion, especially when it can't easily correlate to taste. Why is this shirt different from the rest? Why has it gained residence in Grace's bed?

Grace simply explains it's a comfort, and Rocky leaves it at that. Rocky can appreciate anything that brings comfort to Grace. He watches Grace reach for the shirt while he sleeps. Hears the contented sigh after he breathes in.

Your never gonna get him back

He's in a different canvas now