When Grace dies he asks for his body to be turned to ashes, and then into a statue. The statue has him sitting, legs crossed, arms curled slightly, with his palms on his knees. He says in his final message there is a reason for this very specific positioning, but that he can't say what it is.
Time continues forward. Rocky and Adrian grow and change. They move house a couple of times. Rocky changes career from engineer, to inventor, to scientist, to diplomat, to teacher. Adrian picks up a new hobby every few decades. They explore other parts of Erid they've never seen. They meet humans on more than one occasion, but there's something about it... Something not quite right. The Eridian mind can never forget, and no matter how much time passes, Rocky feels it. Missing Grace. His human.
And then time really does move on. Rocky walks stiffly, Adrian sleeps for weeks at a time, they both eat less often due to how draining it is.
And one day, the temperature is perfect. Adrian wakes earlier than they have in years. The warmth loosens Rocky's arthritis, the wind is quiet that day, and sound can carry for miles because of it. The soil is quiet, ready, resonant. And they both know.
They go for a walk, take a dip in the sea, attend a choir in a crystal cave. And then, without fanfare, when no one else is around, they visit Grace. And Rocky climbs into his stone lap. And Adrian curls their body around Grace too. Just like Grace did hundreds of years ago, they let go, no scream, no pain, just peace and togetherness. Too beautifully intertwined to ever untangle.
And there they sit, three stones, for the rest of time.
rocky learning about last names is one of the most stressful days of grace's life on the way to erid.
it starts with them watching a movie, maybe the devil wears prada, and a little way through the movie rocky asks why miranda has two names. is it because she's more important?
grace, already anticipating a long conversation, says no, all humans have two names. everyone's just scared of miranda because her two names are really well known.
"grace have another name and not tell rocky?!" rocky asks, incensed. "what names mean, question? why two?"
"well," grace explains, "your first name is the name your parents give you at birth. usually people call you by your first name, especially if you're close. except in... some situations, i guess," he says, remembering stratt's vat. nobody had called him ryland there, but he still felt pretty close to all of them.
"and second name?" rocky prompts.
"right - last names correlate to your family. when you're born, you take your family name so that people know who you're related to. it also helps differentiate between two people with the same first name."
"so what grace last name, question?" rocky asks. grace blanches a little.
"uhh... grace is my last name, rock," he says, sheepishly.
"what?!" rocky yells. grace winces. "grace not tell rocky grace first name? grace not close with rocky? grace hate rocky?"
"no!" grace protests. "of course i don't hate you! don't say that!" maybe it's stupid, but grace does actually feel a little hurt by the insinuation.
"then why not tell rocky?!"
grace sighs. "i don't know, rock. i mean - when i met you i barely knew up from down, much less what my name meant to me. and i kept getting these memories and everyone kept calling me grace, and i just, i haven't been called ryland in so long it doesn't really feel like my name anymore."
rocky ruminates on this for a moment. then: "...ryland is grace first name, question?"
"yeah."
"rocky like grace better." grace deflates with relief. "yeah, me too, buddy."
"but," rocky says, "rocky want last name too now."
huh. okay, then.
"i guess i could figure that out," grace agrees. "we could give you movie rocky's last name? you wanna be rocky balboa?"
"mm, no," rocky says.
"okay, well we could go region based, i guess. where'd you grow up? i can make up something fitting, or i can look something up on my computer, i'm sure there's places on earth that are similar to places on erid -"
"no," rocky interrupts. "want grace."
"...huh?"
"rocky want grace last name."
grace is suddenly feeling very, very flushed. "you what??"
"last name is family name, question?"
"well, yeah, but -"
"and rocky grace family now. so rocky want grace family name!"
...well, when he says it like THAT, it's so much more innocent. grace... well, he agrees, because what else is he gonna say? that rocky should know that that that's as good as a marriage proposal?
no, that takes too much cultural context, and a longer conversation than he wants to have right now. easier to just let rocky have it. it's not like there'll be any consequences to bite him in the ass, right?
So after Shane leaves the Metros, the team starts sending out Hayden Pike to do press to cover their asses and keep their more asshole-ish players from saying slurs in front of reporters.
After one inconsequential game, a reporter asks about what Coach Theriault and Hayden think of the future of hockey with their former star player playing with his husband. Theriault says some shitty PR nothing answer laced with so much disdain that Hayden just. can't. take. anymore.
Obviously his team wants him to shit-talk his best friend and de facto brother-in-law who happen to be playing the best hockey of a generation (he will never let Ilya know he thinks this). The reporter obviously is chomping at the bit for a "dissension in the locker room" story that will make his life even more miserable. So, fuck the both of them.
"and how about you Hayden, what do you think about the future of hockey with Hollander and Rozanov?"
"Well, I think they should get on having kids, like surrogacy or adoption of something"
Dead silence, the reporter blinks in confusion. He can feel the glare coming off Theriault burning into the side of his face. He doesn’t turn his head and blithely goes on.
“Yeah, specifically 3 girls. I have 3 girls so if they have 3 girls, we’d have a whole hockey team to start in the pee-wees and get to the PWHL. My Ruby would obviously be a defender. She’d spend her whole life in the box, but she'd be such a good enforcer, especially if she was playing with her sisters. Jade is sneaky fast, so forward for her. And I know Amber is a baby, but I swear she’s got goalie eyes. My son Arthur is already the peacemaker of the family, so Uncle Shane could start training him up on all the rules so he can be our ref. But Shane and Ilya would have to get themselves another defender and a right or left wing with a center. Yep, that’s the future in hockey I’d love to see with Hollander and Rozanov”
Thus Hayden makes headlines bigger than any other time in his whole career. His time in the locker room does get shittier, but it’s all worth it for the call from Shane telling him that Ilya loved his vision of the future so much he cried looking at baby girl names online and researching PWHL teams.
Grace and Rocky, giving a tour of the Hail Mary to fascinated Eridian scientists and diplomats.
Pointing at things and explaining what they are and how the ship works, lots of awed and appreciative noises are made.
Until one of the visiting Eridians points out a specific item. “And that?”
It’s a strange, circular thing, a xenonite disk mounted upright on some sort of pivot so it can spin freely, but around the edges it has… spokes? Pegs? Sticking out of it, that hit against a stiff flap that would slow down the spinning.
It is also separated into sections decorated with crude etchings of a human and an Eridian.
“Ah,” Grace says.
“That,” Rocky says.
“That’s. Um.” Grace seems somewhat embarrassed. “That’s the sacrifice wheel.”
The Eridian visitors clearly do not know what to make of that. “We think we misunderstood Savior Grace’s word,” they say, apparently hoping this is a vocabulary mix-up. “Explain (question, polite)?”
“Didn’t misunderstand,” says Rocky, sounding very sheepish. “That is sacrifice wheel.”
“So. While we were on our way to Erid, we might have gotten… anxious about each other’s well-being,” Grace says, which everyone is already very aware is a wild understatement. “And, well, you heard what happened at Tau Ceti, and after. There were a lot of unexpected dangers for the whole trip that required a lot of, at least, attempted self-sacrifice to solve. We ended up almost dying for each other several times. And we had an argument about what we’d do if another crisis like that came up. And we couldn't agree.”
“Grace argued that Grace already was unlikely to survive long-term on Erid, so he should be the one to do any potential deadly but necessary maneuvers to make sure I was able to bring taumoeba back,” Rocky says.
“Which made sense.”
“Did not make sense! Grace already sacrificed so much for me and for Erid, wouldn’t be fair to make you do it again—“ Rocky cuts himself off with a huff. They have obviously had this conversation before. “So sacrifice wheel was compromise.”
“Yeah,” Grace says. He spins it to demonstrate; it whirls around in a blur and a rattle of the flap hitting the pegs, then eventually slows down, and stops—pointing at the segment depicting a very bad but very clear image of an Eridian. “Rocky made the wheel, I spin the wheel, and whoever it lands on, that’s who gets to sacrifice themself to save the other and the other person does not get to argue. This way, we wouldn’t waste time debating who does the self-sacrifice and who survives, it’s just a plain fifty-fifty chance. Or, eighteen-eighteen chance in base six. But the point is it could be either of us and we would have to accept the outcome.”
Rocky started fidgeting while Grace was explaining. When Grace finishes, proud of the equitable solution they came up with to allow them to die for each other fairly, Rocky says, “Now that we are back and we don’t need sacrifice wheel anymore… I have confession to make. About the wheel.”
“What about the wheel?”
Rocky doesn’t answer. Grace frowns, first confused, then suspicious, and spins the wheel again.
It lands on Rocky again.
He spins the wheel again, and again, and again, and it lands on Rocky every single time.
“Rocky!”
“I weighted the wheel,” Rocky admits.
“Rocky the whole point was that it was equal, that was why we even made it—“
“Never was necessary so doesn’t matter anymore!”
“But you WOULD have!”
“And you never noticed because you were hungry and cranky and distracted and so would have done bad job on heroic self-sacrifice anyway!”
“I would not! I would have done fine!”
(The Eridian scientists and diplomats are still here watching this btw. Slowly dawning on them that 1) these two are extremely not normal about each other 2) if Erid ever does another space mission they NEED to send a therapist aboard because this is what happens when they don’t)
Thinking about Shane learning the Russian words for ‘my little bear’ because Ilya’s so large and imposing but so soft and his hair is so fluffy- but he also delights in knowing he can use it on Ilya to needle at him and sweetly annoy him. He can imagine Ilya’s faux-irritated brow crease, followed by wrestling Shane into the couch to prove he’s no little bear- he’s a grizzly bear who’s going to eat Shane for breakfast…
So he works to get the pronunciation down, and finally springs it on him one day when Ilya’s just come in from the lake, hair air dried and floofy and he’s all open limbs and soft edges.
The moment the words fill the space, Ilya goes silent, and tears start to fall. Shane panics, and closes the gap between them to hold his husband close with a crushing grip.
‘What’s wrong? Did I not do it right? Did I say something bad?’
Ilya stays quiet for a moment, trying to control the inevitable break in his voice when he speaks. When it comes out, it’s wet, and wounded, like blood seeping out the mouth of an injured animal.
‘No, no. It’s ok- my mama, she-’ another small sob. ‘She used to call me that. I have not heard it in a very long time.’
Shane knows he doesn’t need to reply, or to fill the following lull.
He just needs to stand there. Solid and unyielding.
Arms a vice around Ilya’s torso, large hands stroking down the damp skin of his back. Soothing kisses pressed like a comforting brand to his temple, his cheeks, his eyes. Urging the tears to flow because they need to. Loving his man exactly how he needs to be loved.
Despite the two glasses of vodka, Ilya is not nearly drunk enough to be having this conversation.
"...But do you ever get like, shit on your dick?" Marley asks as he downs a handful of Lays bbq chips, crumbs getting stuck in his stubble. "Because one of my homeboys stuck it in his girl's ass once, and she shit on him."
Ilya sighs.
"No, no shit. You just need to have very thorough shower before," Ilya says, avoiding the topic of douching because he thinks Marley's brain might explode. "And not eat Taco Bell."
Marley's eyes widen. "No Taco Bell? Damn, I could never be gay."
Ilya gives him a weird look.
"But how do you decide who gets to stick it in who?" he asks. "Heads or tails?"
Ilya runs a frustrated hand over his face.
"Ah no, uh, we usually have pretty strict roles."
Shane is going to kill him.
"I thought you had to switch. Equality and all that."
"There is no have to, we like doing it like this."
"Okay, I have another question," Marley says.
"Of course you do."
"What is better, dick or pussy?"
"I think you don't know what bisexual means," Ilya says.
"No no, I know. But c'mon man, you gotta have a preference. I promise I won't tell Hollander," he says and crosses his heart.
Ilya groans.
"Is different, obviously, but I like both, I don't know what you want me to say."
"You ever miss pussy?"
"No," Ilya shrugs.
"Really?!"
"Marley, I have hot husband and we have sex all the time, I am not missing anything. If anything I have trouble keeping up sometimes."
"Wait, Hollander's a freak?"
Ilya sighs.
"You can not tell him I told you this, but yes he is."
Marley blinks slowly five times. "Damn, maybe I should try being gay."
Considering that Simon comes from a world where space travel has been a thing for centuries, he knows his way around a spaceship pretty well.
Since they found him, he's made it his mission to maintain the ship until they make it to Erid. He's been working diligently since his health stabilised. Grace and Rocky tried to tell him to rest more and that it wasn't necessary. But he said working is the only thing preventing him from thinking about what happened to him and keeping him sane. They couldn't really keep arguing with him after that.
He tends to lose track of time while he works, too absorbed in it. It’s like everything around him disappears for a moment. Grace completely understands; he's exactly the same. Though Simon is still recovering, he checks on him often and tries to encourage him to take breaks.
He's been running diagnostics and recalibrating things. Grace often hears him grumble about how ancient this ship is and how unnecessarily complicated everything is. Grace once asked him where he learned to fix spaceships and he paused for a moment before answering. As if he were considering whether to tell him or not.
"There weren't enough people left to have a specialist taking care of or fixing ships in every space station and we couldn't afford to lose one. So, if something broke down, you had to know how to fix it. Especially if you happened to be travelling alone. Otherwise, you're dead. Couldn't afford to waste anything on a rescue mission. Not to just save some useless dumb bastard, they said. It would cost more than a spaceship. So, I read what I could about it, which isn't a lot, watched how the best did it and studied how they were built. That's it."
Grace had been floored. Simon basically explained being a self-taught aerospace engineer, like it was nothing to write home about.
"I know how to fix machines and ships are one of them. That's it. It's not like I'm a genius or something. I just did things that felt right, hoped it wasn't going to blow up and when it didn't, assumed I did it right."
Grace blanched at that and Rocky paused the tinkering he had been doing.
"Calm down," Simon said with an eye roll, "This was when I was still learning. This isn't what I'm doing right now. I know what I'm doing. I have the manual and your ship is outdated, but in perfect condition. It won't blow up if I change something. I've worked on way more advanced ships in shit conditions that could explode if you breathed on them wrong because it was held together with duct tape and desperation. You're fine."
Grace relaxes and Rocky continues working. He remembers telling Simon about the manual. Since he started reading it, he's been catching Simon putting it down and complaining about how unintuitive this ship is or loudly asking, "Who made this?" Grace keeps telling him that the best of the best made it, and he sighs that this version of humanity still has so much to learn about space travel.
Today, Grace is checking on how far along they are in their journey to Erid, making sure everything is going smoothly. He is sitting in the pilot seat, trying to push the buttons on the ceiling, but they're not working. He hears Simon climb the ladder and stops to watch him once he reaches the top.
"What is it?"
"They aren't working,"
"Fuck, okay, let's see."
His eyes lock on the dysfunctional panel as he joins Grace under it. Before he can register what is happening, Simon climbs onto the chair, straddling him. He stretches out to reach the panel above their heads, takes off the cover. He starts working on it and Grace forgets to breathe for a second. He's now on eye level with his um impressive pecs and wide shoulders. He can see the outline of his harness and nipples under his shirt. Grace digs his nails into the armrests. This is too dangerous. He needs to look somewhere else.
He looks down and immediately has to close his eyes for a second to calm down. This isn't better. Simon's shirt rode up, exposing his navel and a part of his stomach. The happy trail and the healthy layer of fat on his stomach make his gums tingle with the desire to just bite and–No, he's not finishing this thought.
He looks lower and the sight of his bulge shoots heat throughout his body. Why does he wear his jeans so low? Stop! He needs to get it together! To look away! He can tell through his jeans that his thighs are huge and probably muscular. Okay, down is bad, maybe up his better.
Oh gosh, why out of every person Grace could have found in space did it have to be the only person who manages to look good from this angle? Simon is fearful and makes himself small except when he's working. The way he breathes confidence, quick-thinking and resourcefulness is beyond attractive. It doesn't help that he's stunning with his sharp nose, defined jaw, gentle eyes and soft-looking hair. Or that he's incredibly gentle with everything he touches, patient and extremely smart, unlike what he says.
He's also talking but Grace isn't listening; he can't. The smell of his skin slips down his lungs and Grace has never done drugs in his life but right now he gets it, he completely understands why it's so easy to get addicted. Higher. His bulging bicep. He swallows with difficulty. Forearm muscles are dancing under his skin. His breathing is getting heavy. Hand, veiny and visible tendons working. Calluses that would feel divine tracing naked skin. Meticulous fingers harbouring countless tiny scars that Grace wants to trace with his tongue. He just knows that the metal of his prosthetic will feel delicious on his feverish skin.
"Are you even listening?"
It shocks him out of his fantasy and when his eyes meet Simon's, shame overtakes him. He looks down, again, big mistakes and tries to concentrate on his own laps. A hand cups his jaw and makes him look up. His touch feels like sunlight on his touch-starved skin. His brain splutters, overwhelmed by the feeling and Grace has to swallow a whine back down. His eyes fall into his and Simon's face is firm and serious but his eyes stay gentle. They always are. They are so close, his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. This is bad. He wants to reach out, cup his face in his hands, guide him down, devour his lips and lose himself exploring his skin.
"Look and listen. You need to know this in case it happens again and I can't help you," he chastises. He then angles Grace's head so that he can see inside the panel again. This is really bad. He feels himself lean into it. Oh, he knew it, the calluses do feel amazing. His grip is rather strong. He could easily force his jaw open by pressing his fingers in his cheeks. Oh gosh, is he getting hard? Please, not right now!
"Grace! Really? What's with you? Am I boring you or something?"
Crap, he's pissing him off. He needs to fix this. Say something.
"You're sitting in my lap,"
Simon goes completely silent and Grace freezes at his own words. He watches as Simon slowly and carefully looks down at their position. Next thing Grace knows, Simon is on the other side of the room. Wow, he's fast. He didn't even see him move.
"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Simon exclaims but then rubs his hand on his face. "No, it's not your fault. It's me. I did this and made you uncomfortable. Fuck! I'm sorry, Grace. I can't believe I did this," he continues, looking embarrassed, not angry.
"It's fine, I wasn't uncomfortable. I was just-," Grace interrupts himself before he says something stupid.
"What?" he asks, his voice wavering."Too scared to speak?" Simon asks and he looks heartbroken at the idea. Shoulder down and fear in his eyes just at the thought of scaring him. His body curls on itself with crippling guilt.
No, no, no! They made so much progress, he can't let this destroy it. He needs to say something! Fix it! He's the one who was perving on a man recovering from severe injuries, PTSD and who was just doing his job... While being on top of him, but still.
"No, I wasn't! It was just um distracting," he splutters, digging himself into a hole.
This is so incriminating, he's done for. Okay, he can fix this!
"Since, you know, it's been a while since I was last touched," Grace continues.
Terrible phrasing, Simon will never want to speak to Grace again. Simon stares at him in silence and Grace watches in horror as his eyes widen in realisation. It's over for him.
"Oh. Oh! Oh, okay. So, that's, um, that's why uh?" he stutters, looking away.
Is it too late to throw himself out of the airlock? Hasn't this man been through enough? Now he has to put up with Grace's stage four horniness. What is wrong with him?
"I'm so sorry," is all Grace finds to say as he buries his face in his hands. Ashamed of himself. He literally has no excuses.
"It's fine."
"It's really not."
"Grace," Simon starts but he interrupts him.
"I'm just going to go now," Grace says, unable to look him in the eyes right now.
He turns around to walk to the ladder.
"Okay, but you better not make this a bigger deal than it is, Ryland. It's fine really, I mean it," Simon says firmly but with a warmth in his voice.
Grace freezes in front of the ladder and considers his words for a second.
"Okay," he whispers before climbing down.
Grace climbs down the ladder and throws himself on a chair next to Rocky. Grace is going to spend the rest of his life with Simon and he just had to embarrass himself in the worst way possible in front of him. This is a catastrophe. All of this because he can't control his feelings for Simon. Simon, who forgave him even after making things incredibly uncomfortable between them.
If you enjoyed this post, you’ll love these lovely doodles by @chaoticazul that were inspired by this story!
EDIT: HOLY SHIT GUYS 3K?????! Thank you so much 💕💕💕!!! I can't believe so many people loved my writing🥹! To celebrate this, I made a Part 2. I hope you'll like it!
Bruce makes secret hair appointments cause he’s going gray. It’s just one of the many cosmetic things he does on a regular basis.
At first, it was only for Jason. Jason missed out on a lot of years after being dead and always seemed to become distraught whenever Bruce showed any signs of having aged.
He understood. Suddenly coming back after being gone for so long, only to realize everything has changed, is a huge shock.
That’s fine. He can handle that.
But then, he noticed that the rest of his children would also have not-so-quiet mental breakdowns right in front of him if he showed any signs of aging.
Dick gets a quiet, faraway look in his eyes whenever Bruce reminisces about their time together, like it was a hundred years ago, before refusing to leave his side for a few hours. Then he would disappear when Bruce wasn’t looking, never for more than an hour, only to return shortly afterwards with puffy red eyes and a death grip on his hand
Jason would pretend he didn’t care, seeing the wrinkles on his face settle like they’ve been there since forever, before forcing Bruce to hug him, fixing his face away so no one could see it, and crying his eyes out right then and there, lamenting loudly on the fact that Bruce was apparently ready to drop dead at that very moment
Cassandra would get a sour look on her face when Bruce let out a soft groan as he got out of his seat, which was saying a lot, since she didn’t often show much emotion on her face. She would sit beside him, holding his hand in her own, her fingers pressed against his pulse. She would refuse to speak for hours, not even bothering to sign if it meant taking her hand away
Stephanie, despite not being his child in a legal sense, dropped her milkshake on the ground in shock when Bruce complained about something being too sweet when it was, in fact, not that sweet at all. She gently touched his face and shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes, “You’re so old.” She whispered before insisting on having a movie night with just him
Tim seemed as though he had a conniption when Bruce needed to put on his glasses after a few hours of staring at a screen. He goes on a long, rambling rant about how Bruce could stare at screens for days on end before collapsing into Bruce’s arms and cursing out the weakening lenses in his eyes. Then he made Bruce take a screen break for two whole days, while trying not to cry and failing
Duke’s hands shake when he realizes Bruce takes more naps than he used to. He stays by Bruce’s side when he naps, even as he complains in a shaky voice that if Bruce spends all his time sleeping, he won’t have any time to spend with him. Bruce then has to sleepily comfort a crying Duke before they finish the nap together
Damian throws himself into Bruce's arms, and Bruce has no struggle with it at all. But Damian’s eyes get watery when he thinks that one day, it’s possible that Bruce will never be able to hold him up ever again. Maybe he would have to be the one carrying an old Baba around. He makes Bruce carry him around everywhere on days when he can’t keep those thoughts out of his mind
Alfred had to stop and close his eyes for a second; he truly believed he was staring at Thomas before realizing it was just Bruce. And as Bruce continued to get older and older, he could no longer see Thomas, because Thomas never got to make it as far as Bruce did. Despite the fear gripping his heart as Bruce continued to age, he couldn’t help but be grateful that Bruce still could age, that being Batman hadn't taken him away far too young.
Bruce knows they all understand that despite their complaints and tears, nothing is going to stop him from aging. At times, they seemed awed that his stupid self-sacrificing moves haven’t already killed him, but Bruce can’t fault his children for being weepy. It’s cute, he'll never tell them that, just so they'll keep their dignity
So yeah, he’ll take the time to dye his gray hairs black, and he’ll use his most expensive wrinkle cream to smooth out his features. He’ll muffle his groans when sitting down or getting up, and he’ll wear his contact if he needs to do a lot of reading. And he’ll take shorter naps or skip every so often so he can hang out with his kids, and he’ll continue working out so he can lift all his kids when he needs to
On the plus side, the jokes about him being an old man have lessened
