Chapter Text
“What Grace like about friend Simon?”
Grace chews on the inside of his mouth thoughtfully. He’s laying on his back on the beach, staring up into the artificial sky. It’s come so far, he thinks. Back when he first arrived, it had taken a long time to get the sky just how Grace liked. He wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t perfect, but Rocky insisted. Rocky is good like that, and apparently, Grace is not the only one Rocky bosses around. How wonderful, to have a friend who will boss other people around for you.
Rocky is sprawled out next to him, occasionally flinging himself into the tide and dragging himself out again. He says the feeling of the water is weird, “in good way, feel nice nice nice.”
Grace smiles. “Why? You don’t approve?”
Rocky hums and whistles. “Simon dangerous when first arrived. Rocky worried. Now Simon Grace mates. Simon is friend now.” Grace inwardly cringes at mates. “Rocky curious curious curious.”
Grace shrugs and absentmindedly picks at a loose thread on his shirt. “What do you like about Adrian?” He shoots back.
Rocky instantly perks up at Adrian’s name. He taps his claws and wiggles a bit; he looks like an excited puppy, Grace thinks fondly. Rocky’s response is immediate and enthusiastic. “Everything. Adrian perfect. Perfect mate. Perfect for Rocky.” The melody he sings could be mistaken for a lovesick sigh to Grace’s ears.
Grace laughs. “Well, there you go.”
“Understand. Then Grace Simon perfect mates. Like Rocky Adrian.” Rocky titters; the tide is rushing up to greet them again, and he hurls himself into the water. Grace stares up at the sky, thinking.
When they finally decide to head back to the house, Rocky immediately clambers over to where Simon is writing something at the table. “Friend Simon!” He chirps. Simon nods in greeting. “How arm?”
“Hang on, Rock. I’m not as good at the language as Ry. Slower.”
“Friend Simon dumb, statement.” Rocky remarks pointedly to Grace. Grace hides a laugh behind a cough. Simon raises an eyebrow.
“You two are talking about me behind my back.” Simon accuses. Grace attempts to school his face into earnest innocence. Rocky puts two legs in front of him like he’s attempting the same.
“Never.” Grace says somberly. Simon rolls his eyes.
“Slower, Rock.” He repeats. Rocky whistles in what Grace knows to be the Eridian equivalent of an eye roll.
“How arm? No pain, question?” Rocky gestures to his own limb, demonstrating.
Understanding flickers over Simon’s face. He might not have picked up the language as quickly as Grace, but he’s not stupid either. Grace busies himself in the kitchen while they talk. “The arm? It’s good. Feels natural. Helps that I can take it off when I want.” Simon flexes the fingers of the shimmering xenonite prosthetic. It’s a marvel of technology, a combination of both Eridian metal and Grace’s internal wiring—though Simon had guided him through the finer details. Grace is a biologist, not an electrician, but Simon’s had experience with complex mechanics before.
Rocky sings in approval. “Amaze amaze amaze. Science team will be happy.”
Simon smiles. “Good. Hey, speaking of—”
Grace fills up a mug with leftover coffee and sips it, leaning against the counter as Simon and Rocky talk about possible alterations to soil chemistry and cross breeding crops. Simon’s hair is up in a pony tail, his bangs hanging loose around his face. His mismatched eyes are bright and focused, his hands steady and still. There’s something very grounded about his whole body that puts Grace in mind of a kite anchor—the thing gently reminding Grace to come down from the clouds once in a while, but never keeping him on the ground longer than he wants.
Simon catches Grace staring and the side of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. Grace’s ears warm instinctively. He abruptly turns around. “Rocky, I’m headed to the lab. You coming?” He manages to keep any breathlessness from his voice.
Rocky taps against the floor. “Cannot. Adrian expecting Rocky. Friend Simon come with Rocky, question? Adrian want visit.”
Simon shrugs and closes the laptop and notebook. “Sure.” He stands and, without thinking, chastely kisses the corner of Grace’s mouth. “Back soon.”
Back soon. Grace is struck dumb by how two words can possibly fill his heart with so much. “Have fun, kids.” Grace jokes. Simon rolls his eyes. Rocky jumps up and down, protesting, “Not kid, Grace Simon kids, Rocky much older than Grace Simon.”
In the lab, Grace studies his white board. Too obvious. Plus, he’s actually got work on there. Instead, he pulls out a notepad salvaged from Mary.
He scratches down, Things About Simon.