Most of Rick’s tentacles slid away as Max sat up on the edge of the bed, but Rick curled one tentacle around Max’s wrist. “Children swim away from parents. Young ones swim away from the city of birth. The people explore.”
Max sighed and pushed Rick’s last tentacle off. “Yeah. I get it. And that's why we shouldn't tangle tentacles.”
“You do not understand.” Rick caught Max’s wrist again before Max could flee this awkward conversation. “Adults do not flee from every attachment. When the people have explored enough, as elders we seek to bond in a stagnant pairing.”
Max scooted around so he could look at Rick. “Are you saying you are old enough to pair bond?” This conversation was spinning out of control even faster than yesterday's.
“I am not,” Rick said, and Max’s chest tightened. He needed to stop emotionally relying on Rick. “But I am willing to remain in stagnant waters, which are interesting.”
That sounded like an alien version of a pity fuck, or maybe a pity relationship. Max wasn’t exactly following the conversation well enough to tell, but pity was involved, and Max didn’t do pity. “I don't want to be the stagnant waters you endure.
“Query. Clarification. To endure is negative.”
“Yes,” Max blurted. “And I don't want you to accept a negative because you think...” Max struggled for the words.
“I endure nothing.” Rick pulled Max back onto the bed. “Stagnant water is pleasant to one who has traveled fast streams.”
Max closed his eyes. This was painful because it came so close to what Max wanted, and yet it was a world apart from real commitment or desire.
“I sought offspring because I hoped for slower waters. I could not hope to find a pair bond. Query. Would you pair bond?”
Max’s brain had a full meltdown. “What?”
“To pair bond is to share stagnant waters and enjoy the condition of boring with an individual you find pleasing enough to seek repetitious experiences.”
Max blinked and tried to restart his brain. “That is the strangest definition of marriage I have ever heard,” he said in a weak voice. He cleared his throat. “Query. Are you asking me to marry you? Oh, wait. Better question. Query. How long does pair bonding last?”
“Many years. Until one seeks faster water.”
“Oh. So it’s a marriage with a built-in divorce. Great.” Max needed to avoid emotional entanglements.
Rick pushed himself to the edge of the bed and let half his tentacles spill over the edge. “Query. Markers for unhappiness.”
“Most humans would hope their marriage would last forever.” Max rubbed his face. “Divorce is when a pair bonding ends with the partners wanting to leave the bond before death. The pair goes to elders to request resources can be fairly divided so each can swim in other waters.” That was a big of a simplification since plenty of married people Max knew swam in plenty of other, faster waters without getting a divorce first, but hopefully Rick would see the problem. Max was built for the whole death-do-part routine. He’d grown up in a small town where people still whispered words like divorce and infidelity in mock horror as they gossiped.
“To involve elders would be seen as a lack of skill in ending a pair bond successfully.”
“I can't argue with that.” Max added a weak chuckle. “But we need to avoid tangling tentacles because humans want forever. Ending a pair bond usually includes screaming and blame and much damage.”
“Clarify. Emotional damage or physical damage?”
“Both,” Max said. “Well, most of the damage is emotional, but it is not unusual for the violence to turn physical.” Max edited out the part where people even killed over pair bonding from time to time. He had already made humans sound like psychopaths, but he didn’t want to make it worse.
“Max is never stagnant-bad even if we are stagnant-unchanging,” Rick said.
Max ran his fingers over one of Rick’s larger tentacles. “That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”
“Clarify. Long time.”
“Years,” Max said. “You are kinder than anyone I’ve known for years.”
Rick shimmied. “I understand your warning of danger inherent within human pair bonds. I still wish to pair bond.”
“I don't know that it is safe for us to pair bond.” That was not technically true since Max knew full well it was unsafe. He had too many tangled emotions. Maybe that was the isolation or the children. Or maybe his feelings for Rick, but if this relationship went sideways, Max would be screwed in the unfun way.
Instead of withdrawing, Rick curled more tentacles around Max. “I am smart. I am knowing that humans have dangerous instincts. I am knowing Max is dangerous. I still want pair bond.”
Max sucked in a fast breath. “I would never hurt you. I don't care how bad our relationship ended. I don't care if you dropped me on a planet on the far side of the universe. I would not hurt you.” Max's guts roiled.
