When Mark first met you, he thought that you would be a dummy that was easily manipulated. I mean, let's be honest, Mark skipped many procedures just to speed up the building process for the ship, and he hoped you would ignore everything.
You didn't. It even shocked Mark how caring and interested in everything you where. He had never met someone as passionate about a job as you. It made him feel strange.
When the loops started, Markiplier felt even more dependent on you. You acted strong, and took problems by their horns, even if most of the time, it ended up with you or him dead.
When did his feelings change from admiration to obsession? Well, that happens when you keep dying. Your feelings twist. From admiration to hatred to kinship to addiction.
See, Mark's emotions were complex. He wholeheartedly believed that you were at fault for what was going on. For his own personal living hell, but at the same time, you were the only other person who shared his pain.
Mark didn't know if he hated you or if he loved you. He only knew one thing. You both were one of the same coin, and the moment he sees you again, you're not escaping from him that easily again.
A/N: I blacked out and this happened. They said detective Mark and I got so excited. Waxing poetic from someone else’s POV is so fun so I liked this one a lot. I was happy to keep going, but I wanted to get it out there. It was beta-read this time so I’m disappointed I can’t tag it as “no beta we die like Lady”.
Our boy is Yearning. It’s from Space Detetcive Mark’s POV. Switches from 1st person to 2nd person like halfway through. Also switches from past to present tense because I don’t care lol. Celci’s in here for 2 seconds because she and Mark both have crushes on the Captain and I stand by that. Enjoy. Please for the love of God, enjoy. ALSO you guys should listen to Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears in Trees. Unrelated to the fic but it’s the only thing I could think of for a title.
Word Count: 2.5k
I sat back in my chair, creaking as it went back and forth like the whines of a lost little puppy calling for its mama. The chair was old, older than me, I think. It was a nice chair, dark wood that bent a little at the connections of the back to the seat. Suppose it deserved a little flak. It was just a chair, it did its best. I liked the chair. What’s more I liked what I could see in the chair.
I could see the board, filled from edge to edge with images and clippings and papers, all connected with a red line that came back to one edge. No matter what way you go, where you go, what you do, it all comes back to this. It gave me a strange sense in my chest, a feeling I wasn’t used to. Like I know this. Like I’ve been here before. But that’s impossible. I didn’t even know what we wanted to find out.
I could see out the window into the vast expanse of open space. The darkness and stars and distant planets and galaxies that we may get to see soon. The cold, unyielding, unloving embrace of the void with almost certain death within and beyond its grip. I could feel the existential dread in my bones, the fear in my heart, the adrenaline in my veins. It was terrifying.
It was wonderful.
“Oh, to die surrounded by stars.” That was the quote they’d hung up on the wall. I’d asked where it came from, what it meant. They shrugged. They made it up. Isn’t that something?
My favorite thing to look at, however, was the Captain. Oh Captain, my Captain. The one I’ve loved for so long but they just can’t seem to see it. They wander around, trailing their hands over things they’ve seen a thousand times before and will see a thousand times more. Little, insignificant things. A book, a mug, a plant. But they look with such fervor, such intensity and passion, as if they will never see any of it again.
I like watching the Captain. I suppose that’s a weird thing to say, but I do. I like seeing what they do when they think no one is looking. They sway and shift and tap their feet, always seem to be doing something, always seem to need something to do. Sometimes I wanted to walk over and take their hands in mine and tell them they don’t have to do anything, they’re perfect, they just need to exist for me to be happy with them, they could throw me out of the airlock and I’d use my last few seconds of life to ask for forgiveness and wonder what I’d done to deserve their anger, because I must have done something.
“Something the matter, Captain?” I asked when they’d stopped next to me, staring out the window. They were close. So close. They were always very close by, which I was grateful for, but my heart always sped up in the way that it did when you were 13 and met a cheerleader in a crop top for the first time. They were so handsome and/or beautiful and I couldn’t help how my internal organs reacted. My heart beat, my stomach twisted, my muscles contracted, and at one point I thought I was dying because of how much was going on in my body. They never touched me except for a friendly handshake or appreciative pat on the shoulder or a… gentle squeeze of my bicep. Sometimes, they made me shake like a short-haired chihuahua in a January snowstorm in Toronto.
They simply shrugged in response, and kept staring. That was the Captain. Quiet. Always thinking. Always had something on their mind. I wanted to take their face in my hands and try to see what they were thinking. I wanted to say “Tell me. Tell me what’s going on in there. I want to know everything you think. I want to know your mind. I want you to tell me and no one else because I’m the only one who gets to know you, really.” And maybe they would. Maybe they’d allow me access to the dark recesses of their mind, all their odd and sad and bloody and happy thoughts that they never shared with anyone. Wouldn’t that be something?
However, I just nodded. That was a thing I tended to do. Just nod when I know what I want to say, but can’t say it. I can’t tell them how much I want to be close to them. I can’t tell them how absolutely handsome and/or beautiful they are. I can’t tell them how sometimes, as I’m drifting out of consciousness, I want to go out and find them and crawl into their bed and beg them to pay attention to me, please, hold my hand, pet my hair, show me some affection because I can’t live without it and I need it and I need you and please don’t ever leave me alone.
I’m an independent man, but sometimes an independent man wants to be cuddled by his favorite person.
I decided to take a chance and look up at them, quickly regretting it. Beautiful baby greys staring, focused out into the distant black horizon. Stars twinkling in the reflections of their eyes. Millions of thoughts racing along, not one stopping to be known by anyone but them. I wanted them to tell me. I wanted to know. I wanted to know them as much as I could.
They were tense, tense as could be. Shoulders high, jaw set, eyebrows furrowed. They looked angry, but I knew they weren’t. They were thinking. Thinking about anything and everything, all at once. Their nose scrunched in the most adorable and/or sexy way once and a while. I wanted to kiss the frown off their lips. I really, really wanted to.
Hands opening and closing, clenching like they wanted something to hold. Like they used to have something to hold. Like they didn’t know what to do with them. I never knew what to do either, what, with them running through my mind every day. As much as I wanted to offer my own hand, I restrained myself. It’s too early. Too much.
Handsome and/or beautiful. Pretty and/or hunky. Dapper and/or elegant and/or attractive and/or any compliment I could possibly think of because I loved them. I loved you.
There’s a thought, huh?
“I love you,” I mumbled, quieter than you could ever hear, quieter than even I could hear, basically just mouthing the words. You caught a glimpse, however, because you were always paying attention to me. Making sure I was okay and happy and comfortable. What did I ever do to deserve you?
You tilted your head in that way that you do, asking “what was that?” with a simple movement. I couldn’t say, so I just smiled and shook my head. You wanted to press, I could tell you did, but you just nodded and turned back to the window. I wanted to say something. Something clever, something kind, something to make you blush and sputter and giggle and shove me playfully. I wanted so bad to make you happy. But I was too scared to make you sad.
And then Celci entered the room.
“Captain, looking dashing and/or stunning as ever,” she said in that stupid nice voice reserved only for you, throwing a wink your way and a scowl in mine. She knew what she was doing when she made you blush. She knew how I felt. She knew how she felt. I didn’t want to have to fight for your affection, but if it was against Celci, I’d play dirty like a pig in the mud.
“Celci,” I growled. Once, you had said I growled like a wolf. It was a tease, I knew, meant to push my buttons, but I cherished it.
“Mark,” She spat, venom lacing her tone. The wolf and the snake. Wonder who you’ll pick.
Celci isn’t a snake. Celci’s honest and hard-working and, deep down, we respect each other. Way deep down.
“Shouldn’t you be taking care of the colonists?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t you be fixing the ship?” She shot back.
“The ship doesn’t need fixing.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something.”
“I’d rather be here.”
“Well, so would I.”
“Did the Captain ask for you?”
“Did they ask for you?”
You put out both hands, stopping the argument in its tracks. We both closed our mouths, knowing better than to piss off the boss.
That was another problem, huh? You’re my boss, aren’t you? Even if you did feel the same way about me that I feel about you, you’d never allow a relationship. There’s a power imbalance that you’d refuse to have. I love that about you. You know when to quit. I don’t. I don’t want to quit. I couldn’t care less about any power imbalance, I’d sooner quit my engineering career than drop my relationship with you. But you wouldn’t let me. I know you wouldn’t. I won’t make you choose between your job and me.
“The Colonists are fine, Captain. I wanted to spend some time up here, with you. And Mark,” CC said, as if she wasn’t completely ruining my night. Day. Whatever it was now. You started to nod because you enjoyed Celci’s company (almost) as much as mine, but I was tempted to ruin this. The desire to give in to any temptation that involved you ran deep in my blood. The Devil found a darling in me long ago.
I made a noise. A little one, in the back of my throat. Small enough that you could miss it or ignore it.
But you didn’t. You listened and you heard and you turned to me and stared into my eyes and I didn’t know what you saw but whatever you did made you dismiss Celci. She nodded and left, her lips pressed together and a grimace on her face, not wanting to disobey our Captain. My Captain. Cause you’re mine, aren’t you? I somehow managed to become priority number one. I wormed my way into your soul and made a space for myself and refused to leave. I don’t know how I did it, but you cared for me. It made me happier than a two-tailed dog, if I’m being honest.
You didn’t look at me again, but I wasn’t mad. How could I be? You’re you. You have your reasons, and I respect them. I knew you cared about me either way, you didn’t have to look at me. Even if I’d really prefer if you did. Even if I desperately want to stare into your eyes until I drown in them. I’d settle for this, though. Our little room with a little chair and a little desk and a little conspiracy board and a big window looking out into the emptiness where we searched for meaning. Ours. And Celci said the windows were a bad idea. What does she know, anyway?
We were quiet for a while, and that was fine. We didn't need to make noise. I liked the silence, anyways. It wasn't loud, it was quiet. Neither of us had any words to be said. Neither of us wanted to interrupt the nothingness. We just wanted to be, and so we did, and so we were. I tried my absolute hardest not to stare, but I couldn't help myself. Baby greys, tension, flexing your hands. I stared at your hands. I really, really wanted to hold them. The temptation was getting to be too much.
Temptation. That's the problem, isn't it? The desire in my brain that I am too weak to resist. The urge to kiss and hold and love that I need to bury down but can't bring myself to. You're my best friend, my favorite person, my love, my life, the one that I want. The one that I need. You are my temptation. And who am I to deny myself?
I hesitantly reached out to your hand clenched into a fist. I laid my fingers on your wrist, asking permission. You looked at me and your face was unreadable. I worried I'd crossed a line, that I’d misread the situation, that it was too much, too fast. You were my boss. You'd never let that happen. I'd made a mistake, hadn't I?
But you didn't jerk your hand back. You didn't turn and ask Celci to come back and hang out. You didn't request that I leave to go take care of the ship because there must be something to fix. You let me take your hand. I started to sweat.
I gently uncurled each finger from your palm, one at a time, massaging the knuckles because I knew you'd be a little sore in the joints. Your fingers twitched once and a while, and I paused to see if you'd ask me for anything. You never did, so I continued. Once I felt like I had taken care of that as well as I could, I pressed my own palm into yours. The angle was weird, I hadn't thought it through, but I managed to twist my arm around to line my fingers up with yours. I slid them in between, interlocking our hands, keeping us together even as we stayed apart. You didn't pull away, so I assumed it was alright.
I tried to quietly shift my chair towards you. “Tried” and “quietly” being the key words here. The chair was old. It creaked like hell. I could barely move two inches without it sounding like the floor would collapse on itself. Goddamn chair. I don’t like this chair.
You laughed, just a little, and that made the embarrassment worth it. You shuffled a little closer until you were standing behind me, and you paused for a moment. I was about to ask what you were doing, but you put a hand on my head. My eyes widened and I waited with bated breath. Blood rushed to my face and thoughts raced through my head.
Pet my hair, run your fingers through it, kiss the top of my head, something, anything, please, please, please–
You started to pet my head, gently, and it would be imperceptible if you let up any more. But I cherished it. My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed and leaned my head back.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before I was about to drift out of the world of the awake. I heard the faint noise of voices in the hallway– Gunther complaining, Burt saying something profound, CC giving orders and everyone asking where the Captain was. I smiled to myself, knowing the answer. The Captain was with me. The Captain was mine. I was their best friend, their number one priority. All the rest of the crew could suck it. I had won. You might’ve been mine, you might’ve not been. But you were here, with me, nonetheless.
