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This week, Mark lost two things: his toolbox and then his shirt. He must have left the toolbox somewhere around the ship, and he thoroughly searched his room for his shirt.
Mack, someone who constantly stole his toolbox and hid it from Mark to watch him frantically try to find it, already confessed he had no idea where it could be. Of course, his word isn’t exactly trustworthy, but the look Mack had was something he couldn’t fake.
It was unfortunate, but he ultimately decided to ask his captain if they had seen his precious toolbox.
On the other hand, the shirt was his favorite shirt, and he had already torn his room up for it. He was bummed, as it was the most comfortable shirt to wear. But he gave up; it’ll turn up at some point in the future.
The captain would be in their quarters this time of day, enjoying a nap.
“Hey, captain,” he walks into the room with a confused look, “I’m sorry to wake you, but have you…” he trails off, looking at them in his shirt.
They were in his favorite shirt.
They smile at him from their bed, waving a hand before continuing typing away at their laptop,
“I…” feeling heat rush to his cheeks, he turns his head away from them with a nervous smile, “Have you seen where I put my toolbox?” sneaking a glance at them, he sees them setting their tablet to the side. They hummed, moving out of the bed to the closet. “I put it in here. Mack kept stealing it,” they whispered, holding it out to Mark.
He chuckled nervously, “Thank you, captain.”
“Happy to help.”
He turns around, hesitating at the door. His captain, watching him, raises an eyebrow and hums in question, “I’ve been looking for that shirt…” they smile at his seemingly flustered body language. He shifts the box in his hands, still turned away,
“But it looks better on. On you, so you can… you can keep it— if you want to!” He quickly leaves, embarrassed.
His captain’s eyes linger on the door a few moments longer, tugging on his shirt, smiling warmly.
Mark stood outside the now-closed door, his face beet red. His captain looked so cute in his shirt. The quiet clanging of the tools inside shifting from his trembling shook him from his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, relaxing.
He smiles and walks away, tucking that image of his captain away in his memories for safekeeping.