Chapter Text
The mission is finally coming to an end—thank God!
For Lime, it has been a grueling month of obnoxiously ignorant crewmates, overly constricting rules, and vindictive gremlins messing with their brain; all of which stuffed into a suffocating, tiny box that is falling apart by the seams while traversing through infinite space. This is the most grateful Lime has ever felt for anything before, having been nearly at their wits' end the entire trip.
The ship should be docking at the station within the hour, and Lime is going to spend that time secluded in the vents. They've tasted more than their fair share of socializing being on this mission, and there's no need to spend these last moments trying to fit more in.
There's a lot of junk Lime stashed inside the vents for their convenience: a puddle of spare bolts under the reactor room, sneaked scraps of food under the cafeteria, shredded documents they refused to sign trailing under admin, and so on. The vents became Lime's messy little home throughout the trip, their provided sleeping quarter gone abandoned. While they don't care enough to tidy up the place before disembarking, they managed quite a collection of useful trinkets they wanted to bring along with their leave—if only they could locate all their damn things! Those rotten gremlins are always messing things up, even down to the final hour.
Lime scuttles around the vents, creating an echo of grunts and huffs with every harsh bump of metal they squeeze through in their haste. Then, tragically, they turn too abruptly and their sharp curse ricochets throughout the ship as their head slams against a wall.
"God dammit!" They press their hand hard against their head, sucking in air.
"Lime?" A distinct voice calls in response, floating through the vents and surrounding them. Their first instinct is to assume God is finally answering their cries, calling down to them with penitence. Then the clack of dress shoes echoes, and the voice speaks again, "Lime, are you okay?"
Lime recognizes those shoes and that voice—it's Blue, the ship's doctor. Blue is always in their business; always so caring towards their health; and always so present when Lime expects them the least. Lime could crawl away unanswered, leaving their last interaction on a sour note, but a bundle of tender emotions always pulls them back whenever they even attempt to evade the doctor. They're the only crewmate they trust, and that means something deep for Lime.
Pulling themself across the vent shaft to curl beneath Medbay, Lime speaks through the grate. "Yeah, 'm good, doc."
There's a pause, then a shuffle of fabric. Blue's voice sounds a lot closer. "Are you sure, Lime? You sounded in pain; I can check on it for you with no issue."
Lime rolls their visor, unable to contain their dislike of feeling doted on. "I said 'm good, doc." They bring themself to their knees, ready to crawl away. "I gotta get my things together. Bye."
"Oh, wait! Before you go," Blue reacts urgently, stalling Lime in their escape. They listen as Blue stands back up. The clack of dress shoes walk away from the grate and then back again. "You left this here when you last fixed my scanner, here y—well. Uh, Lime, do you mind opening the grate?"
With an annoyed sigh, Lime lifts their body and pushes against the grate. Their visor instantly squints, sensitive against the harsh brightness from their first sight of overhead lights all day.
"There you are," they can hear the smile in Blue's voice, "I have this for you."
Lime rubs at their visor, willing their vision to adjust. Then, it settles on the sight of Blue's outstretched hand delicately cupping Lime's missing wrench.
They gasp, "I've been lookin' everywhere! It was here?!"
Lime snatches the wrench from Blue and presses the cold metal to their cheek, cradling it in a loving embrace. Blue sheepishly smiles as their hand retracts, going to scratch at the back of their head, "Yes, I'm sorry for not notifying you sooner. These past few days have been busy preparing for arrival."
"No worries, doc," Lime replies in a considerably better mood, "'m just glad to be reunited with my trusty tool. Thank ya for keepin' it for me."
"Of course, you're welcome," Blue's smile slightly falters as they stumble through their next words, "uh, love and peace…?"
This surprises a laugh out of Lime, and they return a wide smile. "Buh—hahaha! Yeah, yeah, that's it, big dog."
While Lime would rather break their bone than willingly participate in medical examinations that poke and prod, Blue has been the warmest presence on this ship. If every crewmate were like Blue, Lime could envision themself becoming a bit of a social butterfly of sorts. There's something special about the way Blue treats those around them, always handing over a significant portion of patience more than anyone deserves—Lime included. For all their petty squabbles and difficult misunderstandings, Lime has never been able to hold onto a grudge when it came to Blue. Perhaps they were a siren or witch in a previous life, but Blue is the first doctor to make Lime feel comfortable.
Not comfortable enough for recurring medical appointments, however. Blue is a better acquaintance to Lime than a professional they seek out, though the rest of the crew would beg to differ.
"Well," Lime pockets their wrench, "see ya! Been a real pleasure, Blue, but I'm hightailin' outta this ship the moment we touch down."
Blue's smile falters, and their brow furrows in confusion. "Are you not coming to the get-together afterward?"
Now it's Lime's turn to look confused. "The what now?"
"Captain Red invited the crew out for drinks to celebrate a mission well done, their treat." Blue glances to the side, "I'm sorry, I thought you were told…"
Lime grumbles deep in their throat. As if they would even want to attend that, but to clearly not even be invited feels as rotten as it is relieving. Their fingers grip the side of the grate tightly, taking their frustration out on the sturdy metal—they were right to avoid the crew after all.
"I wouldn't go to it anyway."
"They might not have been able to find you yet; I'm sure you're invited," Blue offers.
Lime doesn't reply, only fixing them with a stern stare.
"I—okay, or not." Blue twists their expression, looking considerably discomforted by the direction of the topic. So much for a pleasant goodbye, Lime thinks. They sigh and are about to crawl away when Blue speaks again. "It's a real shame if that were the case."
"Eh," Lime settles back into the dialogue, shrugging, "'m not much of a drinkin' buddy. You'll have more fun without me."
Blue stays silent as their visor points to the side, searching somewhere else away from this conversation. Lime notices their hand twitch, contrasting their usually so controlled manner. Then, "I don't agree."
Lime narrows their visor at the crewmate in front of them, observing behavior that is not what they are used to seeing from Blue. They have always been so collected and pristine; this attitude is unexpected. There isn't much they can think to reply with, so Lime stays quiet as they watch the doctor seemingly parse through the thoughts in their head.
"Lime," Blue finally unpauses, "I know you're in a rush to go home, but I would like to talk to you after we complete our sign-off forms."
A flash of apprehension travels through Lime, uncertain about the meaning behind the request. Blue looks so determined now, staring down at Lime in a way that intimidates them. "Uh, okay… what for?"
"It's nothing of concern, don't worry." Blue plasters on a reassuring smile, waving their hand as a show of consolation. "I just want to talk before we officially part ways."
"We're talking right now, doc."
"Yes, that is true. Won't you humor me, though?" Blue blinks, their smile stretching wider, tighter. It's unnatural, but not threatening. Still, Lime feels uneasy.
"Uh, maybe." Then they quickly lower themself back into the vent shaft, waving their hand above in their wake. "Bye!"
.:.
By the time the ship lands, Lime has their pockets full of metal scraps, loose tools, and extra trinkets collected from the vents. They didn't bring much with them onto the ship in the first place except their toolbox and whatever personal items they could fit into their backpack. Being confined to a small ship with only so much to do doesn't need a lot, so Lime only worried about what could get the job done—if that means they only had one spare uniform with them, so what?
Lime hangs behind the crew as everyone is escorted outside by Mira officials. They're each taken into separate rooms to debrief their mission roles and sign forms, effectively giving final confirmation their tasks have been completed. They're all still in the system and will be called again for future missions, but for now Lime can go home and back to their mundane life.
Outside of space travel, Lime works at a rundown auto shop. It's the only kind of job somewhat related to their career that will allow the odd days they can work; every other respected job would pitch a fit at the idea of Lime sporadically calling off for weeks at a time.
It's not something they look forward to, but it helps with the income they need in between these inconsistent Mira jobs.
Lime doesn't fight the Mira officials anymore about writing their name on the sign-off forms. It's been explained to them many times before that it's necessary to leave the mission behind; otherwise they risk unemployment. At this point, Mira practically owns their life—what difference could refusing to give away their handwriting even make? Defeated and tired, Lime sloppily scribbles on about fifty blank spaces before they're finally allowed to retrieve their personals from the employee lockers.
Entering the locker room, they face some of their crew for the last time.
"Hi, Lime!" Cyan calls immediately. They're standing by the door, turning their head in greeting from their open locker.
Lime nods curtly, barely passing a glance as they walk to their nearby locker.
"Are you going to the thing tonight?" Cyan asks excitedly, still digging through their clutter. Every Mira employee gets a reserved locker, and some will leave just about anything in them. Lime likes to keep it minimal, but apparently Cyan is one of those types to have pointless things to rifle through after every mission. Lime cringes at the sound of metal scraping from inside Cyan's locker, the other's movements half-haphazard as they throw things into their satchel.
"Hey, I am!" Green calls from the other side of the room, eavesdropping.
"That's obvious." Black monotones, lacing up their boots on top of a bench.
"I thought you said you were going too?" Purple slams their locker shut to punctuate the question and turns to lean back against the wall.
"I am, but I'm not as desperate for validation as this one is."
"H-hey—I… well," Green mumbles under their breath. Then, perking up, they keep the conversation going, "Actually, uh, is White coming to this thing? I don't know because… it's a crew party. And they're not necessarily crew?"
Purple answers, "Yeah, everyone is invited."
Lime quickly twists the padlock to their locker, missing the numbers by a hair and having to start all over again. They huff as this continues until their door finally pops open, and they glare into the dark box.
"So I'll see you there?" Cyan prods from beside them. Out of the corner of their visor, they see Cyan staring at them expectantly, not taking their silence for an answer.
Lime grabs their house keys and phone. "Nope."
"Oh no, that's too bad! It would've been so fun to get to know you on a more connected level." Cyan sounds so sad, but Lime knows it is disingenuous. Cyan has never once tried to engage Lime in a casual conversation, only ever sparing words inside crew-wide meetings and maintenance requests.
Cyan softly closes their locker as Purple and Black approach. Purple taps Cyan on the shoulder, "Hey, wanna carpool with us?"
"Wow, thank you! That would be much appreciated."
"Can I tag along?" Green closes their locker and jogs up to the group.
"Get your own ride." Black calls from behind their back, already walking out of the room. Purple and Cyan look back apologetically before following along, while Lime watches Green slump forward in defeat.
"Gah, everyone is so mean to me…" They mournfully sigh. Lime feels the rumblings of an argument deep in their chest, the words 'at least you were invited' rising in their throat. They narrow their gaze on the intern as they watch them drag their feet forward, walking out of the room.
Now Lime is alone.
Lime slams their door, the piercing clang of metal reverberates throughout the rest of the lockers on the wall. It's loud and grating on the ears, but it's the only sound that replaces the scream they want to let out.
It's not like they need attention and companionship from that crew of losers, but it feels as though they're being ostracized for things they haven't been given the chance to explain. If their coworkers sat them down, maybe tried to get to know them, things could be different. Lime tried being efficient, reliable, hardworking, and sometimes even funny—why is it never enough?
Their feelings on the matter are conflicting. It's all just very frustrating and confusing.
The familiar tapping of dress shoes quickly approaches the locker room, and Lime is too slow to recognize it.
They scramble to throw their things into their backpack and turn to find a back exit, but instead come face to face with Blue at the doorway.
With the quick puffs of air Blue is releasing, Lime almost assumes they ran here.
"Lime," they breathe, a relieved smile greeting Lime with warmth like the sun, "you waited for me."
"Uh… yeah."
"I'm so glad. Wait right here, I'll only be a second." Blue holds a finger up and then swiftly walks down the aisle of lockers, turning a corner and leaving Lime's view.
Lime considers making a run for it, and they eye the door the entire time they hear Blue opening their locker from the aisle over. Blue is much more delicate in gathering their things; Lime almost doesn't hear another sound until the clank of metal echoing through the empty room signals to them that they've closed their locker. Lime has lost their chance to escape now, and they watch as Blue briskly walks back.
"Thank you for your patience. Did you get all your things too?"
"Yeah…"
"Great. That's good." Blue smiles stiffly, mirroring the expression they gave Lime back in Medbay. Lime furrows their brow at them, not quite sure what to say back.
They look at each other, neither saying anything else. It feels considerably awkward.
"Well!" Blue interrupts the silence suddenly, straightening their back. They quickly avert their gaze, blowing out a quick laugh, "Hah, so, that thing I wanted to talk to you about…"
Blue trails off, seemingly hopeful that Lime will fill in the gap with some form of astute commentary. Instead, Lime can only wince from the discomfort of being on display.
Blue shuts their visor and takes a deep breath. Lime watches the tension ease away from their composure as their torso deflates, as if trying to release all signs of anxiety from their body like it could be so simple. Then, they open their visor and look at Lime with a pleasant smile.
"I would like to take you out for dinner."
The confusion Lime felt before pales in comparison to how they feel now. Their brain struggles to connect reason with the situation at hand, staring with a wide visor at Blue as if up against an imposter wearing the face of the perceivably unattainable doctor.
Lime has navigated the mission under the pretense that all interactions and relationships on the ship, friendly or otherwise, were to be temporary moments soon to be discarded. The next assignment will most likely bring about a whole new group of crewmates, and even then there can be months in between deployments—there's just no reason to grow attached.
Sure, they got the friendliest with Blue out of everyone on the Skeld, but they never assumed it to hold up outside the ship's hull.
"What… why?"
Lime watches Blue struggle against their own anxiety, trying to put on an air of normalcy that feels more familiar than this odd shyness. Blue fidgets with their fingers, darts their visor around the room, and blushes like a schoolmate. All the while, they're trying very hard to keep eye contact, speak calmly, and stand straight. What could the doctor possibly be nervous about—is it something Lime did?
"I wanted to… get to know you better, as a thank you for all that you do. My treat."
"Well, uh," Lime scratches at their cheek, feeling a warmth rise to the surface in their embarrassment, "I guess that's fine… but—wait?" They narrow their gaze at the doctor. Lowering their voice, interrogating, they ask, "What's the catch?"
"Nothing! No catch!" Blue waves their hands in surrender.
"I don't get it," Lime huffs, "just dinner? That's it? Food and talkin'?"
Blue lowers their hands to clasp in front of their torso, like a silent plea. "That can be all it is, yes."
Lime glowers at the doctor, aiming a scrutinizing glare between Blue's hands and visor. They're hoping to locate a crack in Blue's supposedly charming facade, for some indication that something nefarious lurks beneath the surface. It's hard to reason the doubt when they come up with nothing substantial; in front of them, all they see is a nervous, yet thoughtful person who's been nothing short of kind to Lime this whole time.
Still, ever so cautious, Lime points an accusatory finger at Blue's chest. "Fine. But it needs to be public, and I reserve the right to leave whenever I want."
A wide smile breaks across Blue's face. "Of course, I understand!" Then, they reach into their coat pocket and produce a phone they must have just collected from their locker. "In that case, let's exchange numbers."
Lime isn't the type to use their phone much, but definitely is the type to hesitate giving their information away. Still, there's nothing Blue has done to justify Lime declining the request. So, when Blue holds up a blank text screen for them to enter their number, Lime only briefly hesitates before quickly snatching it away.
When they're done, they pass the phone back, careful to avoid Blue's fingertips. "There."
"Thank you," Blue smiles in return. They turn their head down to their phone and tap something with quick precision. Lime feels a buzz in their backpack just as Blue lifts their head. "I sent a hello."
"Okay."
"I appreciate you for indulging me in this, Lime." Blue pockets their phone, continuing to look at them with a wide smile. Such a pleasant expression on Blue is usually contagious for Lime, but the circumstances surrounding them both are far more perplexing. "I will plan everything so you don't have to worry."
"Cool. Uh, appreciate it."
"Anytime." Blue places a hand on Lime's shoulder, and it actually feels quite comforting. Lime feels a hesitant smile twitch on their face in response, and it spurs Blue on to continue, "It's a date!"
Blue immediately retreats and waves, turning around quickly. Lime watches, stunned into silence, as Blue escapes through the door and the clacking of their shoes drifts further and further away.
Lime's face reddens.
A date?
.:.
Lime spends the rest of the night wafting through their own troubled thoughts, balancing energy between tonight's exclusive get-together and the impending date with Blue. With no knowledge of how either of them will go, Lime feels conflicted about the point in dwelling on either. The crew will be nothing more than a memory from now on, and Blue is the last loose end that can be easily snipped away.
In fact, Lime has half a mind to text Blue now and rescind their agreement to the date.
They're curled into the corner of their couch, pressed between cushions in an attempt at comfort. The vents always offered a sweet solace on missions, placing them in a cozy cocoon of hard surfaces that brought infantile nostalgia and peace. The cushions don't fill the same role, but it's the closest thing on hand. Their shabby apartment is too cold to go without, anyway.
Lime is staring down at their phone, Blue's earlier text the only thing illuminating the room.
From: Blue
Hello, this is Blue.
Lime drafts different versions of the same text, daring themself to stop pussyfooting about and send the damn message.
From: Lime
nevermind i dont wanna see you again
From: Lime
ok didnt knoe it wasa date. i dont wanna do that so bye
From: Lime
youre yhe scariest thing ever to me and i dont eanna see yoh again
Each text immediately gets deleted. Whatever tricks Blue has up their sleeve to call such a meeting will have to be powered through; their own curiosity is getting the better of them. At the very least, they know they can leave whenever they want. That's not difficult for Lime to do.
While stuck in their own thoughts, the phone buzzes in their hands.
Lime's heart sinks and begins to thud deep in their chest. It's Blue.
From: Blue
Does tomorrow at 6 pm work in your schedule?
Lime's fingers twitch on the screen. It feels weird to have this sort of access to their old crew's idolized doctor.
From: Lime
7
From: Blue
That's perfect. If you'd like, I can pick you up and drive us to the restaurant together?
From: Lime
no
just tell me where
From: Blue
No worries, it'll be at Crewpark Seafood. I'll see you tomorrow!
Lime turns off their phone and throws it aside. It bounces off the cushions and lands face down on the floor, clacking against the hardwood.
Curling further into the couch, Lime presses a hand below their visor and pushes into their cheek until it nearly hurts. What they wouldn't give to crawl into the vents right now, to replace this plush shield with the hard metal they always seek comfort in.
What have they gotten themself into?
.:.
Lime stands in the crowd of a packed bus and tightens their grip on the support bar with every sharp twist and bump the vehicle makes. They thought they'd arrive on time, but it's 7:05, and traffic keeps the bus jolting down a slow path to Lime's stop. The city's infrastructure has always been a tragedy, so much so that Lime often questions where the tax dollars go toward. Then again, their buddies on the message boards told Lime that holes are purposely drilled into roads to keep money flowing in the tire industry. Of course the government would try to hide it; thank God for Lime's sources keeping them in the know.
As the bus winds down the street, they tug self-consciously at the collar of their button-up. It feels strange to meet Blue with an outfit worn outside of ship expeditions. Overalls aren't an everyday occurrence for them in the real world, not that collared shirts are either. It's an honest effort to dress nice for the date, but their conscious excuse is for warmth; the weather is much chillier than the large sauna they floated across space in (regardless of how many times Lime attempted to fix the conditioning unit). It doesn't matter anyway; instead they're regretting their outfit choice and their decision to show up.
The bus stops, and Lime needs to get off. They force themself down the steps before their brain can catch up to the motion, and they stand on the bustling sidewalk across from their destination.
Crewpark Seafood looks rather fancy—far too fancy for the likes of Lime. Why did Blue think meeting here was a good idea?
Lime scans the front of the building and feels a deep insecurity gnaw at their mind. They imagine walking in and being immediately called out for dragging in dirt from the street. They would be made to leave, and everyone inside would whisper and laugh, curiously wondering aloud why someone like Lime would think they belong inside. Did Blue ask them here to embarrass them, to demonstrate yet again how different Lime is to others?
Their innate curiosity for motive and truth shields any desire for this date, and their heavy feet trudge forward until they're standing right outside the entrance.
"Lime," their head snaps to the sound of their own name, "you made it!"
Lime alerts at the sight of Blue; they hadn't even noticed them standing in front of the restaurant. How could they? Beneath the light of the normal world, Blue isn't the same doctor that doted on minor injuries and wore themself out finding a cure whenever a crewmate got sick. The doctor that would need to be coaxed out of Medbay for food and always wore a blanket of exhaustion is no longer in front of them, instead replaced by the face of a normal civilian with a refreshed appearance.
Lime's visor flicks down Blue's body, noting slacks and a collared shirt hidden inside a navy blazer. The only part of their outfit that looks familiar is the dress shoes that became the distinct sound of Blue when Lime sought them out through the vents.
Anyone walking on the street wouldn't be able to guess their professions; Blue is missing their lab coat and head mirror, while Lime is missing their grease-stained, tool-ridden overalls. They both look vulnerable without their work uniforms protecting them from becoming too personal.
"You look lovely," Blue speaks again, and it attracts Lime's attention back to their face. They're smiling at them, visor also wandering over their body to familiarize themself with this different version of Lime. Then, a wider smile breaks across their face as a short laugh leaves them, "Hah, it's nice you're still wearing your bandana. It would almost be weird without seeing it."
Lime blushes and brings a hand up to pat the top of their head, feeling the coarse fabric of their bandana. It's the one thing they wear all the time; it's a source of comfort to feel protected in this way.
"Uh," Lime flicks their gaze back on Blue's shoes, "you too. Your shoes."
Blue looks down at their feet. They turn one of their shoes to the side, as if there's more to it that they're not seeing. "You're right. I didn't even think about it; I'm so used to wearing them at this point." Then, lifting their head, they let their bright smile complement a growing blush. "You're so observant, Lime."
Lime makes a noise in the back of their throat, somewhere between embarrassed and argumentative. They look away to stare inside the restaurant, observing couples leaning across warmly lit tables and eating together in their own personal bubbles.
"I made a reservation," Blue says next to them. "It's not terribly popular, but it gets busy enough where I didn't want to chance it."
Lime narrows their visor at them. They imagine all the times Blue must have come here with others—is this what they do? Do they pick out a lonely scrap from mission crews and think it's charity to pay for a meal?
If Blue notices the glare, they're certainly not reacting to it. Instead, they continue to smile as they go toward the front door, standing off to the side as they open a clear path for Lime to walk through. Courteously, their voice comes out low, "After you?"