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“Marry me,” Their voice was soft, looking over at their loyal companion.
Mark’s head jerked, narrowly missing the control surface edge, staring at his captain with wide eyes, “I— what?!”
They tilt their head, staring down at him.
Mark looked almost heaven-sent, staring up at them from his spot on the floor, where he was working hard fixing some wiring. Although he was covered in stains, his clothing was all messed up from a hard day of work.
They lean down, grabbing a handkerchief from the inside pocket of their coveralls,
“I asked,” they pause, grasping his cheek, tilting his face closer to them, and wiping the other side of his face, a spot covered in some oil or grease, “For you to marry me, Head Engineer,”
His face bloomed a bright red under their hands, his breath hitching as the gears in his head turned,
“Marry you?”
They smiled, nodding, “I was working on a proposal for command, for our colony to be the first to get rid of the anti-fraternization policy,”
Their thumb caresses his cheek, “I… would like to pursue a future with you by my side,”
Mark blinks. His mouth opened and quickly closed as he tried to think,
“Captain, you haven’t even asked me on a date— you,” he stammered, placing a hand on top of one of theirs, “at least invite… ask me on a date before proposing,”
They exhaled, trying to hold a laugh back. He couldn’t seem to make eye contact with them.
“Oh?” they lean closer, “Will you go on a date with me when this goes through?”
He swallows, “How are you so sure it’ll get repealed?” his eyes darted to their lips, and his fingers trembled over theirs.
“I’ve always been rather,” they pause, licking their lips, “persuasive. Wouldn’t you agree, Iplier?”
“I…” he leaned closer to them, closing the gap between their faces a bit.
The captain abruptly stands, pulling their hands away from his face, turning towards the door,
“How about we continue this conversation over lunch?” their smirk was teasing.
Mark sputters, “Captain!” he pushes himself off the ground, “You can’t just leave me! Not after confessing to me!”
They turn away from him, “Well,” they glance at their tablet, “I suppose it is lunchtime. Join me, won’t you?” they look at Mark over their shoulder.
Hook. Line. Sinker.