Summary: Three years into the journey back to Erid, Rocky has become familiar with all the things that once made Grace seem strange: his hands, his face, his habits, his emotionsâand most of all, his laughter.
When Grace starts spiraling over his dwindling food supply, Rocky decides it is his duty as best friend and crewmate to cheer him up by any means necessary. What begins as laughter-provoking antics slowly turns into something deeper: a quiet reflection on joy, survival, and the strange ways two species can feel connected across the stars.
Dynamics: Lee!Grace, Ler!Rocky
A/N: This was supposed to be a short writing exercise on how to describe laughter, but then it somehow led me to introspecting about the universe, as one does lol.
I donât completely remember what was running through my mind when my shipâs cameras and the petrovascope spotted another ship in the Tau Ceti system. A ship that, by the looks of it, was alien-made. My thoughts were probably something along the lines of âholyshitholyshitholyââ and âoh thank fuck Iâm not alone anymoreâ.
Thinking back, it probably wasnât wise to just assume theyâd be friendly, and I didn't even consider what they would look like. I was too focused on communicating and connecting our ships so we could meet.Â
All of which is to say, I was totally unprepared when we were right in front of each other, and I couldnât help the scream that came out of me. Grace looked like nothing I had ever seen or could ever imagine. He was so tall, standing upright on his two limbs while only having two others instead of three. And his whole body was covered with flesh while the harder material was inside. Itâs like if you turned an Eridian inside out.Â
Donât even get me started on his strange habits as well. Using the same orifice to talk and eat? Ugh.Â
He was freaky. Well⊠the keyword being was. Things are different now.Â
His fleshy hands arenât strange anymoreâtheyâre the hands that fly the Hail Mary, do complex calculations and big science, and make chains (many many chains).Â
Hands that bred taumoeba. Hands that pulled me back to safety.Â
And his body isnât strange anymore either. Itâs just his body, that does crazy dangerous EVAs, that has a beating heart that proves heâs alive, that shows love through a hug or friendly pat. His face and his mouth are now just his identity. A window to his emotions: a smile to show joy, eyes that tear up when sad.Â
Now, when I look at Grace and all the things that make him different from me, freaky is the word furthest from my mind. The only words I have now are⊠that's my best friend. Three years into our return trip to Erid, all the aspects that make up Grace have become familiar to me.
Most familiar of all is his laughter.
Ironic, considering how little of it I heard during our mission. There wasnât much time for joking around, both hyper-focused on saving our species. But now, time is all we have.Â
Between keeping ourselves busy and entertained, and learning more about each other, the opportunity to hear all the different ways Grace laughs has been plentiful. I think I have each one memorized.Â
His chuckles are little more than a deep rumble in his chest, a sound almost meant for only himself. Soft, fond, and relaxed, they usually appear when he's recalling a time one of his students said something clever, or when he thinks Iâve said something funny accidentally.Â
When he does manage to let slip some giggles, they sound fluttery, bubbling out of him in a continuous stream before boiling over into full laughter. I think most of the time they happen because he's trying not to laugh, as heâll often duck his head or cover his mouth to stifle them. Maybe he's embarrassedâtheyâre much more high-pitched than his normal speaking voice, but I always find them adorable. They're reminiscent of the flute-like voices of eridian infants.
Itâs particularly funny when Grace is surprised into amusement. He lets out sharp barks of laughter, sometimes accompanied by a quick clap of his hands or slapping his knee. Itâs like he's so suddenly taken by hilarity it needs more outlets.Â
Itâs even more funny when Grace snorts. It happens rarely, and only when he's caught completely off guard, surprised into laughter thatâs so deep and hearty it comes out his nose. I think itâs hilarious, not just the sound but because Grace gets so embarrassed by itâapparently even in human culture itâs a silly sound.
Perhaps the most rewarding is when Grace finds something really funny, like a joke I made (on purpose), or our silly banter, or even a dumb scene from one of his movies. His laughter comes from his stomach, loud and boisterous, and it makes his eyes water and squeeze shut, nose scrunching too. Sometimes it overcomes him so much that he has to hold onto something to keep upright, or wrap his arms around his abdomen. Itâs like for a moment he feels completely safe and unrestrained, forgetting about the Hail Mary, the beetles, and the dwindling food. Instead thereâs only happiness in its purest formâand it's one of my favorite laughs of his.Â
But not my all-time favorite.Â
My all-time favorite is the one he's making now, when I have him pinned to the floor of the ship, one claw digging into his middle and another two scribbling under his arms. The laughter thatâs pouring out of him can only be described as cacklesâloud, wild things interrupted by startled screeches and utterly beyond his control.Â
âROCKY! S-STOP IT!â he shrieks. I donât have his arms pinned, so he's torn between trying to wrench my claws out from under them and slapping at any part of my xenonite suit-covered carapace he can reach.
âMmm,â I trill in mock contemplation. âNo. I donât think youâve had enough penance yet.âÂ
His head thunks against the floor in defeat. âNghâaHAH!â he tries to reply but heâs laughing too hard to get any words out. I am curious what he has to say though, so I move my hands from his armpits and instead trace around what he calls a âbelly button.â It still tickles him a lot, but less so he can actually get words out.Â
The smile on his face is stretched so wide that it shows all of his teeth. He takes in a shuddered breath and chokes out between his giggles, âP-penance for what?!â
âYou were moping. No moping allowed on the Hail Mary.âÂ
âWhaâbut itâs MY ship!â he tries to protest but more giggles interrupt his speech. âEheheâI can m-mope if I want to!âÂ
I let out a chittery laugh at that. He can be so whiny.Â
âNope. Not allowed,â I reiterate. I use my fingers to skitter up and down his sides, making sure to tweak his bottom ribs whenever I reach them. It makes Grace arch his back and then flop back down with a cackle each time.Â
In truth, this isnât made to be an actual âpunishmentâ. I mean, Grace was moping, that part's true. Just before I wrestled him to the floor he was looking over the Hail Maryâs food storage, doing some calculations with his face pulled into a frown and muttering to himself. Based on his calculations, the last few months of our trip will be difficult for him. Grace is worried.Â
But I hate to hear him like that, and thereâs nothing more we can do about the food anyway. So naturally, itâs my job as his crewmate/best friend to take his mind off it, cheer him up a bit. And if tickling him to pieces is the quickest way to accomplish that, well, then you really canât blame me.Â
It also gives me the opportunity to hear his loudest, silliest laughs, the kind he only does when he's forced to let go of his worries and submit to this playful stupidity. As an added bonus, all that laughter sends sound waves bouncing off my carapace, giving me the clearest image of Grace yet. Hey, I gotta get something out of this too, ok?Â
Grace is shoving at me with both hands now, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in laughter. He's not strong enough to push me away even if he wasnât laughing himself out of oxygen.Â
âGah! G-get offa me, doofus!â he manages between desperate gasps for air, each one collapsing back into laughter.
I hum a high, amused note, and pull back on the tickling a bit. I still use one hand though to poke randomly around his stomach, enough to keep him twitching.Â
âHave you laughed all of your mopes out yet?â I ask teasingly.Â
Grace drags in deep breaths now that he has the chance, but each one has a leftover giggle or two tacked onto the end. He flops an arm over his chest and I feel him sag into the floor.Â
âUghâŠâ he wheezes. âYouâre⊠the worstâŠâ
I dig sharply into his sides. âAnswer the question.âÂ
He yelps and his hands fly down to grab mine. âAh! L-let me think, dang it!â
A few beats pass before Grace comes to a verdict. He crosses his arms, and schools his face into one of defianceâor at least he tries to. Thereâs a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that gives him away.Â
âI think thereâs one still rattling around in there,â he says, and oh, if I know a challenge when I hear oneâŠÂ
âIs that so?â I reply. I grab his wrists and start to slowly raise them over his head. That cracks his defiant facade immediately, his eyes widening and a helpless smile spreading across his face. He starts tugging fruitlessly at my hold, and I think itâs that moment he realizes the situation he put himself in.Â
âWait wait wait! Rocky no! H-hold on!â he splutters. The second his arms are firmly over his head and there to stay, frantic, high-pitched giggles begin bubbling out.Â
Mhmm, I quite enjoy this part. Grace is absolutely terrible with anticipation, a fact I love to take full advantage of. With one of my arms pinning Grace's wrists, it leaves my other two open to hover threateningly over his underarms and upper ribs.
âDonât worry,â I say, my voice laced with sticky sweetness. âIâll help you.â
I feel Grace's whole body try to flinch away, but Iâve got a strong grip on him as well as some of my weight pinning his hips down where I sit on top of him.Â
âJ-just hold on a second!â he cries, his eyes unable to look away from my wiggly, xenonite-covered fingers. Laughter is on the edge of each of his words.Â
Slowly, I lower my wiggling fingers closer to his body. As I do, Grace's giddy, nervous giggling gets louder and more frantic, and his squirming increases tenfold. When I reach just the edge of his clothes and brush them gentlyânot even technically touching himâGrace bursts out into loud, belly laughter.Â
âNo no NO!â he screeches, and his legs kick out helplessly behind me. âS-stahahp it!!âÂ
I pull my hands away, and Grace goes back to desperate, sputtering giggles. Hah, I canât help but laugh along with him, his reactions are over the top and hilarious.Â
âWow,â I say around my own chirpy laughter. âYou are so fucking ticklish, Grace.âÂ
I hear the blood rush to his face at that, and he tries to hide it in his arm. Itâs a very subtle sound, one I only know to listen for because Grace explained that humans' faces flush when embarrassed.
âDefinitely sold yourself out there, friend,â I think to myself. Â
âYouâre the most ticklish human ever, arenât you?â I continue to tease. Grace lets out a growly whine that trails off into more desperate giggling. He tries clenching his teeth together, but it does nothing to stop the embarrassing sounds, instead making his laughter come out in a hissy sort of way around his teeth and the wide grin he's wearing. He starts shaking his head helplessly, already accepting his demise.Â
Alright, time to stop teasing and get to the real deal. I drop both my hands to scribble his underarms and massage at his top rib. The reaction is explosive; Grace cracks into laughter so loud that he's absolutely glowing in my perception, every detail of his face and the playful torture heâs experiencing crystal clear to me. He even makes enough sound waves to illuminate every small detail of the room in my vision without my need to tap a claw or click a sound.Â
âNoâ! R-rockâ! Gah-ahAHAHA!â is all he can manage between his hysterical laughter before he peters out into silence. I can tell he's still laughing thoughâhis whole chest is shaking and I can feel his stomach muscles convulsing beneath me where I have him pinned. His mouth is stretched into a wide grin and he takes in a breath here and there too, but no audible laughter follows it. Just his feet slapping the ground occasionally behind me.Â
I really enjoy this type of laughter too. Itâs not my favorite, but more so I just feel real smug anytime I manage to drive him crazy enough to laugh himself fresh out of sound. He even has a few tears leaking out of his eyes, and those are rewarding too. Iâd much rather he leak from overwhelming mirth and laughter than from sadness and pain.
But the tears also signal that Grace is at his limit. I pull my hands away from his tickle spots and instead rub soothingly at his sternum, chasing away the last of the tingly feelings.Â
Grace does his best to melt into the floor as the lingering titters fade away. He wraps one arm around his middle and rests the other one on top of my arm thatâs rubbing his chest while he catches his breath.Â
âOhoho manâŠâ he breathes. âIâm sohoho gonna get you b-back.âÂ
I hum a note. âCanât. Iâm not ticklish. Not like you,â I tease. Thatâs totally a lie, but not one Grace is strong enough to disprove, an advantage of our anatomical differences.Â
We sit for a moment while he recovers until he finally props himself up on his elbows.Â
âYou know, one of these days Iâm gonna have Mary toss you out the airlock. See how well you can tickle me from the vacuum of space,â he says with a grin.Â
My hand stills on his chest, and I tilt my carapace. âYouâd toss your best friend into space?â I ask, playing along.Â
âOh, definitely,â he nods. He picks up the tool I use to weave xenonite thatâs resting on the floor. I donât use it much now, since I used almost the last of my xenonite stores to make my dexterous suit. (That probably wasnât wise to do, but itâs worth it to be able to come into Grace's atmosphere completely and interact in this silly way.)
It also means that the tool, which I had brought to Grace's side to show him, has been sitting on the floor for a few weeks. Grace waggles the tool in front of me. âPlace would be a whole lot cleaner without you leaving your stuff everywhere, donât you think?â he teases, and draws his knee in to knock against my carapace.Â
Well then. Seems the moping is gone and replaced with sass. Not quite what I was going for.Â
I sing a low, jokingly offended note.Â
âI see. Well, before you do that, thereâs one spot Iâve never tried before. We should fix that, in the name of scientific discovery of course.â I slide off his middle and move down towards his socked feet, grabbing hold of just one ankle.Â
Grace begins smiling immediately, and tries to tug his leg back. He's not using his full strength to do so, and combined with his smile I know he doesnât actually mind this at all. Weâve never talked about it out loud, but I know we both think this silly, stupid kind of play is really fun.Â
âWait, wait! Maybe we can compromise,â he says, voice wobbly with the beginnings of laughter. âI donât have to toss you out, just your stuffâAH!âÂ
He's cut off by me taking off his sock and swiping my fingers up and down the bottom of his foot. I was serious when I said Iâve never tried tickling here, and I regret that now because this is a really sensitive spot. Grace drops my xenonite weaver and falls onto his back again, laughter renewed. He's still trying to tug his leg away while the rest of his body is free to squirm now that Iâm not on top of him anymore.
I only tickle him for a few seconds before stopping, given I already put him through the wringer before. When I stop, Grace throws an arm over his face while some lingering hiccupy laughs fade away. Iâve still got a hold of his ankle, though, and this time poke his largest toe.Â
âAre these ticklish too?â I ask, genuinely curious. Itâs already surprising he'd be ticklish in this area, since he literally walks on them every day. Humans are fascinating like that.Â
Grace huffs a residual laugh and says âMaybe,â which I take as âDefinitely yes.â
âWhy are these ticklish but the ones on your hands arenât?âÂ
He shrugs and looks down his body at me. âIâm not sure,â he answers honestly. âMight be evolution-based. You need your toes to walk, but you can live without fingers, so maybe itâs the bodyâs way of making you protect those more.âÂ
He pauses before adding, âI actually knew a guy once whoâs missing six fingersâwhaâ?! H-hey!â He gets cut off by more giggles as I attempt to scribble at his toes.Â
âI was talking!â he laughs. âRude! Nahahahâouch! Hey, careful!â Â
I rip my hands away. âSorry sorry sorry! Are you alright?âÂ
âIâm fine, you just pinched me a bit. Your fingers are a lot bigger than human ones.â Thatâs true. It makes tickling this delicate area difficult. I wonderâŠÂ
I re-grip his ankle and slip my xenonite weaver over the suit-clad fingers on my other hand. The weaver is almost like a second skeleton, with braces hugging my forearm and hand. Delicate articulated prongs extend beyond each fingertip, tapering to points far finer than my own fingers could ever be so I can weave small strands of xenonite. With the tool powered down, however, theyâre nothing more than slender metal finger extensions.Â
Using a second hand, I grip his big toe and pull it back, stretching his foot and other toes, then hover my third hand wearing the tool over them. Grace understands immediately what Iâm about to do because his eyes widen and his mouth opens to protest, but heâs too late.Â
I dance the tips of the thin prongs at the base of his toes and in between them too, for good measure. This was a fantastic idea. Grace begins shrieking and yanking at his foot harder than ever before. Itâs no use though, I have an iron-clad grip on him.Â
âHolyâargh nohoho!â he practically screams. âT-thahatâs terrible!!âÂ
I chirp giggles along with him and decide to try something hopefully worse, scraping the prongs up and down the bottom of his foot in addition to his toes to see what happens.Â
âFUCK!â Grace yells before being consumed by more screechy laughter. His whole body does a funny sort of roll, and his free foot starts kicking at me with surprising strength. Itâs not enough to stop me, but it does actually make me stumble a bit.
I burst into laughter and it mingles in the room with his. Wow, this really makes him lose his mind if it gets him to actually curse. Iâll definitely be doing this again sometimeâthis is fun.Â
Grace practically wails my name, the last note of it soaring to an impressive pitch. Itâs time to stop. I donât want to actually ruin the playful moment weâre having. I pull all my hands away and sit next to Grace, giving him the space to roll onto his side and pull his knees to his chest, catching his breath.Â
âI ha-hate youâŠâ he huffs weakly into his knees. Mmm, liar.Â
Eventually his breathing slows and he uncurls himself. I move to sit beside his head with my legs tucked underneath my carapace. He always calls that position âloafing,â and when he cracks an eye open to glance at me, he huffs out a few chuckles.Â
Feeling a sudden surge of fondness, and perhaps a tad bit of guilt, I use the weaver to stroke through Graceâs hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums a contented note and goes boneless under the touch, eyes slipping closed again.
âYou done torturing me?â he asks sleepily.Â
I hum a note myself, amused. âFor today.âÂ
Grace smiles softly at that, eyes still closed. My amusement melts into something gentler. âAre you feeling better?â I ask, softer now. Sincere.Â
He opens his eyes and looks at me. âYeahâŠâ he says, a smile still on his face. I sense some tension pulling at his brows, though.Â
âIt will be ok, Grace. Weâll work out a solution when we get to Erid. I promise.âÂ
We fall into a comfortable, companionable silence and stay like that for a while. Graceâs breathing returns to a slow and steady rhythm as I continue to brush the prongs through his hair, lost in my own thoughts.
âWhat are you thinking about?â Grace asks softly. He looks like heâs on the verge of falling asleep.Â
I brush his bangs back and soothe them down. His hair is getting quite long. I like it, it makes it even more soft and fluffy. âIâm thinking about our theory.âÂ
âWhich one? Panspermia?âÂ
Itâs something we talked about early on in our mission, when we discovered that the planet Adrian did indeed have life. A lot of life, actually, in the form of bacteria, amoebas, and other single-celled organisms. What are the chances of Earth, Erid, and Adrian all evolving life separately from one another? Life that uses the same basic machinery: DNA, ATP, familiar cellular structures, and, in some organisms, even mitochondria?
To me, it seems low. Possible, maybe. But low. Our three star systems are not that far apart, really. Yes, Earth and Erid are sixteen light-years apart, with Adrian somewhere between us, but that is close compared to the vastness of the galaxy. The Milky Way galaxy spans about 100,000 light-years. Weâre practically roommates, if you consider the observable universe and its trillions of galaxies.
Thatâs where our theory comes in. Panspermia is the idea that life didn't just start all on its own on our planets. It came from somewhere else. Where? Who knows, but the theory is that billions of years ago some ancient life form âseededâ Earth, Erid, and Adrian with life by way of a comet/asteroid, or something. Then life did what it does: evolved over billions of years into different forms that seem completely different from each other, but share many similarities if you look small enough. Humans, Eridians, and astrophage. We may have done billions of years of evolution separately, but the point is that if you go far enough back on each of our branches, weâre joined by one common but ancient ancestor.Â
Weâre cousins. Very very very distant cousins, but family all the same. Or thatâs what I like to believe. We donât have real proof of this theory, but it makes me feel closer to humanityâcloser to Grace. And itâs interesting to think about in these quiet moments of companionable space travel.Â
âI used to think you were as different from me as two things can be,â I say.Â
Grace smiles. âOh? Was it the leaky space blob-ness?âÂ
I chuckle out a chord. âThat was definitely part of it. But nowâŠâÂ
âNow space feels a whole lot smaller, and we feel a whole lot closer,â he finishes for me.Â
He reaches up over his head and brushes his fingers against mine on the hand not combing through his hair, just absentminded touches. He likes to fidget while he thinks, and enjoys being close too.
âIsnât it fascinating how both our species evolved to have laughter? I mean, that can't be a coincidence,â he says. Itâs like he read my mind. Thatâs what I was about to bring up next.Â
âIt would be a huge coincidence, yes,â I say. âI think it's further evidence for our theory. That weâre connected.â
Itâs not definitive proof in the slightest, barely a correlation. But I choose to believe it is. The universe can be terribly ugly, but thereâs also so much beauty in it, so why couldnât this one beautiful thing be true too? That the sounds of joy prove weâre connected, even light-years apart?
âLaughter connects the universeâŠâ Grace says wistfully, his smile growing. âThatâs a nice thought. I like it.âÂ
I like it too. I feel a deep warmth wash over me, a sense of happiness and belongingâand Iâm still light-years from home.Â
âIâm happy I evolved to meet you, Grace,â I say. âIâve never had a friend like you before. Someone who understands me in ways I canât explain, because I don't need to with you.âÂ
âAnd Iâm so grateful I get to hear your laughter,â I add.
I hear that subtle rush againâGraceâs face flushing with shynessâand it makes me chuckle. I canât see the color, but I trace a finger over what I know is his reddened cheek, just to let him know Iâm aware of whatâs happening.
Grace shoos my hand away playfully and huffs, embarrassed.Â
âYou're such a sap,â he says. âBut⊠Iâm happy I evolved to meet you too. Iâm happy we get to laugh together.âÂ
We made it to Erid, and itâs good to be home.Â
The last few months of our tripâand the first stretch of time on the ground tooâwere indeed difficult for Grace. His coma slurry and taumoeba shakes were enough to keep him alive while we figured out a solution. But just barely.Â
Every day he slept more. His cheeks hollowed further. He smiled less. I stayed by his side through it all, diligently watching as he slept, thinking of the days where we talked about the universe and filled our ship with laughter.Â
Those were dark times. But Iâm so grateful they're behind us.Â
Now, two years after we made it home, the scene looks quite different: My beloved Adrian and I are in Grace's biodome. It's stocked with plenty of nourishing food for him. His stomach is soft, his ribs no longer sharp beneath his skin, and his cheeks are rounded. Heâs going to start teaching soon, and itâs the most excitement Iâve seen in him for a while. My Adrian says one of their dry, witty jokes, and Grace has to hold onto me to keep from falling over in laughter.
Itâs a beautiful sound, and I hold it close to my hearts. I am so grateful I get to hear it again, and I know I'll hear it for years to come.
A/N: there we go! Hope you guys enjoyed! Here are a few questions that I'm curious what your guys answers are:
What do you think of Panspermia? Itâs a real theory, that life on earth started because a life-containing asteroid crashed here. And if it happened to earth⊠perhaps it has happened elsewhere.Â
What other completely normal human things do you think Rocky would find fascinating/horrifying?
Do we like the Rocky pov? Would we mind another one bc I have a short one in mind, same dynamics but I swear I have plans to switch that up too lol
