#ash android

Ash

He was floundering, multiple systems failing as he watched more hydraulic fluid pour out of him. He remembers your anguished cries and the sight of your hands pressing against the wound in an attempt to plug it, white blood seeping out from between your fingers.

And now, he's warm. When he opens his eyes, he finds that he's been moved. His head is resting on your thigh, and you're sitting with your back against a wall. Your figure takes up most of his vision, head bowed and lips parted. Your deep, even breathing suggests that you are asleep. He feels your hands- one on his chest and the other loosely curled over his scalp- protective of him despite your inherently vulnerable state. He analyzes his surroundings without moving. Various tools of medical and mechanical purpose are scattered around the two of you. His hand drifts toward the wound site, expecting a gouge and finding duct tape instead. Your engineering background proved useful- a simple diagnostic shows that all systems are in the green- but your surgical skills left something to be desired. He laughs at his predicament, the sound coming out more like a ratcheting warble than a real chuckle, and it wakes you.

Your voice drips with relief and something else- something unexpected. Affection.

"Oh, thank god."

The hand on his head moves in a predictable arc over his scalp. You're... petting him? Moments ago (or was it hours?) you'd discovered his true nature, but you've fixed him, anyway. And now, you're looking at him the way you would a sick patient- a human patient. He stares up at you, unsure of how to categorize the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the waves of positive feedback that seem to crest with every pass of your hand through his hair. Perhaps you are more essential to him than he'd previously thought.

Bishop

Pain, malfunction, leakage, severance, critical failure.

Blackness. And then...

Reboot.....05%

His senses come back to him one at a time. He assesses his body. Multiple connections have been haphazardly reestablished. Fluid pumps are only running at 2/3 pressure, and he notes a particularly fragile spot on one of the lines in his abdomen. He's alive. Not quite fully functioning, but alive nonetheless. Something shifts to his right, and it takes more power than usual for him to open his eyes. Is this what people mean when they use the term 'sluggish?'

He's in medbay, and as his head lolls to the right, he recognizes the top of your head, barely visible over the edge of the cot you've apparently laid him out on. One of your arms is resting on the table, and as his auditory processors finally boot up, he hears your soft snores. His limbs are twitchy- he doesn't have enough power to send full electrical impulses to them- but he's still able to shift his right arm and brush the backs of his fingers against your bicep. You jolt awake and turn to face him, bloodshot eyes filled with relief and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, holding his hand in both of yours and placing a shaky kiss to his knuckles, "I did the best I could-"

So it was you who had patched him up. You, with barely any medical knowledge in regards to humans, who did all that you could to keep an android from dying.

"You've done more for me than any human ever has. Thank you."

Your eyes fill with unshed tears, and something within him stutters at the sight of it. He's never known such selfless love.

Call

She's glad, in a way, when she powers on and looks around the cramped room to find that she's in her own quarters and you're the only person with her. Glad that there's no one else there to witness her failure. The injury was unshakeable proof of her inhuman origins, and she remembers shame. Intense shame at being found out. You're puttering around her quarters- in the middle of making yourself a cup of coffee, by the looks of it- and she can see how tired you are in the way that your shoulders droop and every breath comes out as an exhausted sigh. She tries to sit up, and something tugs in her back. She can't feel pain, but she can tell that any further movements would strain whatever injury she's sustained. Slowly, carefully, her hand drifts toward her back, fingertips prodding the area. The hole has been haphazardly patched with something like silicone, and when she pulls her hand away from it. her fingers come back mildly sticky. Curious, she touches a fingertip to her tongue. Superglue. You've patched the hole in her torso with melted silicone and superglue.

She can't help herself- she snorts at the ridiculousness of the situation. You jolt, muttering, "Oh, jesus-" as some of your coffee sloshes out of your mug and onto your hand. You ignore the spill in favor of setting the mug on the counter and rushing to her side, wiping your hands on your uniform as you go.

"I-I'm sorry," You sputter, "I didn't know if your skin was organic or not, and I had to make a seal 'cause I figured you probably didn't want any water getting in-" You pause and make a vague gesture at her torso, "-in there."

There's so much worry, so much care in your eyes, that she feels her throat getting tight. It's difficult to talk around it.

"You're not... You don't think of me any differently?"

"Why would I? You're still just Call."

Something eases in her chest- the constant tension of keeping a mask in place temporarily dissipating at your words. Just Call. That's all she's ever wanted to be.

David 8

This wasn't how it was supposed to play out. You were supposed to be trapped beneath the fallen rocks. You were supposed to be critically (but not fatally) injured and therefore unable to finish the mission, and he was going to remain at your side for the duration of your recovery.

Instead, his instincts had betrayed him. He'd heard the telltale sound of pebbles cascading from the weak point he himself had created in cave ceiling, and he'd pushed you aside- away from the danger. Something landed on his head and tore part of the neck away from his right shoulder before blackness descended upon him.

Your tired, worried face fills his vision, bloodshot eyes scanning his form as you adjust something in his neck. He feels a connection being reestablished, and suddenly, he's able to control the rest of his body. A few of the wires have been mismatched- when he attempts to lift his left arm, his right foot kicks out instead- but he's awake. He's awake, and he thrills at the way that you light up when you realize that he's looking at you. You murmur encouraging words and smooth his hair away from his face, your touch hesitant and surprisingly gentle. His voice is modulated and unfamiliar to him when he tries to speak- another repair to add to the list.

"Where are the others?"

"Sent them ahead to finish the mission without me," You murmur, "Didn't want to leave you alone."

Some oily, dark thing within him preens at your words. You stayed behind to help him? He has you to himself for the foreseeable future, and his weakened condition is already planting feelings of protectiveness and affection in you. He makes a show of attempting to sit up, and you're quick to plant a hand on his chest and push him back down onto the bed. He allows it- revels in your worried coos and offers of assistance. Perhaps his plan was a success, after all.

Kirsh

His hearing comes online first, and he's greeted by the sound of distinctly human snores coming from somewhere to his left. Odd. He replays his footage of the incident in an attempt to orient himself. Isaac's frantic shouts, a low hum, his hand locking around the handle of the enclosure's one entrance, and the closest thing to pain that a synthetic can feel- 10,000 volts breaking a fiery trail from his fingers to the actuator in his shoulder. Something sizzles, explodes... And then, he shuts down in an attempt to protect the rest of his systems.

His eyes open, the lids feeling a bit twitchy, and he immediately spots you. Slumped over in a desk chair, hair and uniform in a state of disarray. He props himself up on his elbows, and something flickers in his mind- a barely-there stress warning. He cranes his neck to look at his right shoulder and can't help the heavy sigh that escapes him. The skin around the joint is charred, and it's been peeled away to reveal the structure beneath. Artificial sinew and wiring have been repaired to an... almost workable state- evidently not by a registered engineer. There are colorful stickers on the damaged skin, arranged in a halo around the injury.

"The um... The kids put those-"

"I can see that." He deadpans.

"Boy didn't want to call in an engineer. Said you'd be fine, but I... I just..."

"You just...?"

He stares you down. He finds that he's oddly grateful for your intervention, but something in him revels in this awkward interaction. He wants to hear your excuse firsthand. He wants you to close that loop for him. Your embarrassment is obvious in the way that you hastily card your hands through your hair and avoid eye contact.

"I don't like seeing you hurt." You mutter.

He thinks, How adorable, and files his odd reaction away for later study.

Samuels

Multiple error messages flash behind his closed eyelids. He's running three degrees too cold; a few of the circuits in his arms are non-responsive; there's a leak... somewhere... and a weight on his right thigh. His dermal sensors are flaring up, an irritated area on the left side of his chest. He remembers the explosion and the gigantic chunk of rebar rocketing toward him, tearing through artificial skin and muscle...

He forces his eyes to open and tilts his head forward to assess the damage. The rebar is nowhere to be found. Something like gauze has been packed into the hole in his chest, and black electrical tape has been wound around him to keep the wound covered and insulated. The irritation he's feeling is the adhesive tugging at the hairs on his skin. The mysterious weight, he discovers, is your head resting on his leg. He takes a moment to scan your form.

You're on your back, hands resting idly on your stomach. Your chest rises and falls with each even breath, and he can see your eyes shifting beneath their lids. Your hands and some of your chest are covered in dried hydraulic fluid, and there are traces of gauze and rubber stuck to your fingertips. You had moved him. The makeshift bandage was your work. He was just an android- one of many- but you'd still gone through the trouble of patching him up in the only way you knew how. As if he'd had a life worth saving.

Shakily, hesitantly, he brings his hand toward your head- brushes some of the sweaty hair away from your face. You stir, but you don't wake. Your lips part around a soft sigh, and your head tilts until your jaw is resting in his palm. He's badly damaged, but he's alive because of you. He feels grateful. He feels cared for. He feels like an individual instead of a copy of a copy of a copy.

ASH

"Is there any particular reason you can't do it yourself?" Ash eyebrows furrow as he glance at the fruit in your hands. You appear stumped and Ash can see the way you hesitate, hands drawing closer to your centre, by the blunt question. "Um, just, wanted your help." You answer with an inflection at the end that makes it sound more like a suggestion. Ash brows relax as he lets out a please hum, nodding to himself as he reaches out to grab the fruit. "Very well. I can assist you, dearest."

○ His first question from above sounds mean. But Ash means it in the most innocent way possible. More concern about your well-being because you need help with a fruit? Something so… small?

●Doesn't need much convincing, but does need directions, as I doubt he has much experience with fruits. But even with your directions, he will use surgical precision to peel that thing. Makes you feel like you're watching open-heart surgery with how careful he is.

○We've seen Ash eat cereal in the movie, so I like to think he can process food better than the others; therefore, have this mental image of Ash licking the juice from his fingers if he makes a mess. Not sure if he would have taste receptors, as he could be doing the action to stay relatively clean till he finishes the task for you

●However, Ash gives me the vibe that he could say no to your request. Depends on whether he's busy or not, but most of the time will accept.

LANCE BISHOP

"Bishop. Would-" you blink owlishly as Bishop nibble fingers pluck the fruit from your fingers. "Now how did you get this? I wasn't aware we had oranges on board." Bishop gentle inquires, taking a moment to admire the fruit. Spinning it in his hands as he takes note of the textures. "I made a trade for it." You answer slowly, as if having to remember what each word meant. Your eyes watching diligently as his thumb presses into the fruit's skin. "Of course," Bishop nods his head at your answer, his gives you a warm smile and seems to be proud of you.

○You don't even start the sentence, as the moment Bishop hears the softest impression that you need something from him– his full attention is on you. With a glance down at your outstretched hand towards the fruit. He is grabbing it and peeling it for you in a matter of seconds.

●Makes a comment on how you got it. Completely ignores how you're buffering from lag at how quickly his actions are. His questions are full of curiosity, and his tone is impressed by your resourcefulness.

○He's awfully delighted that you came to him. You expect him to peel it and give you the un-skinned fruit, but no. He peels a slice and holds the fruit for you. Passing you slice by slice till you finish or have had enough. You can try to dismiss him and take the whole fruit back, but he brushes off any points you have and reminds beside you.

●Please give him some praise for it. He's such a sweetheart

DAVID-8

You feel your smile slowly falter as David continues to stare at the fruit in your hand, you're unsure if you should wait for his answer or brush it off and leave the room. Surely he isn't mad at the question, right? David's soft hum breaks you from your thoughts, appearing to have made his decide as his fond glaze finally lifts to meet yours. A charming smile replace his stoic expression, "Of course, my dear." David makes a show to bring one hand to grab your wrist, as if to settle your hand while his other pucks the fruit from you. Or was it a thinly vail display of control over you? You don't pay much attention to the action as you smile happily at David, relief he is going along with your and doesn't seem too upset. You watch eagerly as David spins the fruit in his hands, still smiling charmingly at you while lightly toss it in the air and catching it. "This is an easy task, one I'm happy to do. " He catches the fruit and pauses for a minute, his smile shifting to a concern frown. "However, I can't help but wonder, are you feeling alright, docotor?"

○If it were anyone else asking, David would be giving a tight, polite smile that immediately tells you he hates that question. I feel like the reason he'll hate it is that the task is beneath him. It's easy that a child could do it. It'll be so painfully obvious that the reason someone would ask him to do it is because he's a sythinic. That he has to obey and that the question reveals what they think of him. Naturally, after the interaction, David might have a grudge against the person.

●However. Being a significant other is what saves you from becoming an experiment. While David gives the impression that he would say no to your request, and he does have the ability to decline it, he never says no.

○It shouldn't be unexpected that he needs some convincing to accomplish the act. He makes some light taunts as he holds the fruit in his hands. As you try to reassure him that you're asking him because he's your significant other. That significant others ask each other little harmless favours like that and not because he's a sythinic who has to listen to commands.

●Somehow, this harmless test turns around on you, and it feels like you're being tested as David listens to your every word, to every emotive tone you express and studies your every expression.

KIRSH

"No." Kirsh stern voice cuts you off. "I didn't even finish the sentence! Let me finish asking. At least!" you grumbles as you step closer to Kirsh, shaking the orange in your hand in disbelief at the care taker. "Fine," Kirsh roll his eyes but steps away from the monitor to face you directly all the same, "Go on. Ask me." "Kirsh," You reach out to grab one of his hand, clutching it to your chest as you stare at him with the best doe eyes you can mange, "could you please peel this orange for me?" Kirsh lets out a hum, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he tilt his head in that way he does as he carefully think over the problem. Your smile begins to teeter over the line of happy expectation, believing Kirsh will answer yes. Kirsh softly smiles as he takes notice of your expression, appearing to have been waiting for it specifically. "No." He answer bluntly as you groan in distress.

○He'll cut you off with a sharp 'no' either once you finish your question or halfway, as he glances your direction and sees the orange your lifting towards him. You have to convince him to do it. With lots of praise, "You got that magic touch, Kirsh!" Some 'please Kirsh!' and reasoning (lying) with him that your hand hurts to do the action.

●Really depends on your timing; if he's busy with his work, either observing the creatures or tinkering away, he'll shut you down. If you try to be persistent during these moments, he's sharp wit comes out, and he'll shut you down. To the point where you want to leave to get away from his words. But afterwards, once he's finished with his duties, you'll find him approaching you with a plate of peeled oranges.

○But if you caught him in between things, after some convincing, he lets out a huff and holds his hand out for the fruit. Taking it out with the biggest eye roll as he lightly taunts your abilities. Yet he cleans the small fruit, taking all the stringy bits off with such care you know he's complaining is more for his dignity.

●Biggest diva, regardless of when you catch him, he expects so many words of gratitude from you. You kiss his cheek in a show of thanks. It'll have him roll his eyes, but his taunts soften and reduce after the action.

WALTER 1

"Is this to your liking?" Walter asked as he holds the peel orange to you with a small smile. It was a strange request from you, and one of the rare times that Walter would appear visible surprise. Yet hearing you kindly ask makes he all the more please to help– to serve you. "This is perfect, thank you Walter!" You cheerily smile as you accept the fruit. Walter's brow raise as you don't immediately eat it, instead moving closer to him. Watching closely as you bring a hand to grab the front of his hoodie, once feeling you lightly tugging him does he understand. Leaning forward to your height, waiting patiently as your lips press chastely on his cheek. His smile, appearing more wide and softer from your action as he pulls away.

○ Another one who is confused by the request. It seems like such an easy task. Especially comparing it to everything you have done to earn your spot on the ship and what you do on the ship. He's mostly curious about why you need help. Along with where you get that fruit from. He might have to check in with Mother later to see what other surprises there are. He will become concerned if you mention your hand is sore. Then you have Walter follow you around to help you with tasks for the rest of the day.

● This could, somehow, be the strangest thing any of the crew members has asked him to do. Mainly from the surprise of where the orange came from. However, you ask so sweetly and given the nature of your relationship. The moment you finish your question, he gently takes the fruit from your hand. He's giving you the softest smile as he peels it. He will be thinking of this memory fondly whenever you go back into cyro sleep.

○Any praises or kisses you give to show your gratitude will leave him flustered because, again, it's only some fruit. He's helped with more complicated tasks. But the gesture is so sweet and human that he accepts it all the same. Also, if you do kiss him, it only makes this his favourite memory to revisit.

Ash

Nat King Cole - There Will Never Be Another You

Rich, slow music spills into the corridor as the lab door slides aside to admit you, and the sound of it puts a smile on your face. You wander to Ash's station, coffee and "milk" mugs in hand, and lean against your designated spot, watching Ash fill out a report.

"I like this one." You muse, tilting your face toward the ceiling and closing your eyes.

"Why do you like it?" He inquires.

He's keeping up the illusion of focusing on his report, but all of his attention has been on you ever since he heard the bulkhead open. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer. You hum the violin part very quietly and sway back and forth while you put together a response.

"It's... romantic." You admit, doing your best to ignore the embarrassed heat that creeps up your neck, "Would be nice to dance to."

"Would you dance with me if I requested it?"

His response is a little too rushed, too practiced, but you're so shocked by his question that don't notice. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. The pen in his hand creaks under pressure as his fingers unconsciously tighten around it. Ash looks expectant and almost nervous as the silence stretches on. He's being serious, You realize. You feel shaky. Your words die in your throat, so you settle for nodding and setting your coffee on the countertop so you can offer him your hand. He stares at it for a moment, considering, then sets his pen down and takes your hand. You're expecting to have to lead him, but he surprises you by taking the initiative, tugging you out into the middle of the lab, assuming a very formal dancing posture, and immediately falling into step with the music. His fingers lightly drum against your knuckles in time with the song, and you have to bite back a smile when you notice that his eyes are darting about the room as if he's not sure where he's allowed to look. You break the tension with a quiet laugh.

"I didn't know you could dance. I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised."

Ash's voice is dangerously low as he states, "There are many things that you do not know about me."

There's something suddenly shrewd, calculating, about the way that his eyes snap to yours. There's a weight to that statement. What you know of me is what I want you to know, It says. What you learn, you may not like. You're silent for a long while as you consider the consequences of asking for clarification. You decide that you don't care.

"I love what I know," You murmur, "And that's more important to me at the moment."

Both of his hands twitch, and his head cocks to the side as he takes in your answer. It seems he didn't expect such a positive reaction. You open your mouth to say something else- some distracting, throwaway comment to ease the tension in the air- when he kisses you. It's quick and obviously impulsive. You wouldn't have known that anything had even happened if not for Ash's guilty expression as his eyes flick upward to meet yours. Your lips tingle. Something warm blooms in your chest.

"Apologies," He mutters, "I couldn't help myself-"

Before you can second-guess yourself, you dart forward to copy him. Ash freezes for a moment, hand clenching around yours to an almost painful degree. Then, he lets go of your hand to wind both arms around your waist and press your bodies together. A soft, almost desperate sound leaves him, and his hands fist the back of your uniform to keep you in place as he surges forward for a second, more confident kiss. Your lips part around a surprised gasp, and he's quick to take advantage of it, licking into your mouth with a surprising amount of skill. You do your best to mirror him and feel more than hear the synthetic's satisfied rumble as it vibrates against your chest. You card your hands through his hair, and he shivers against you. The rest of the world seems to melt away as you lose yourself in a sea of overwhelming sensations. You've never felt such pure adoration- it seems like nothing else exists for Ash aside from you.

You pull away to breathe, and Ash leans forward, chasing you for another kiss. You let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness, craning your neck to stay just out of reach.

"Give me a minute, please-"

There's nothing apologetic in his tone at all when he mutters, "Ah. Apologies- I forgot that you needed to breathe."

The hands on your back slowly unclench, but he doesn't let you go right away. His eyes flutter open, and his gaze is soft and full of longing as he takes you in. He looks almost disappointed. You tilt your head and whisper, "What is it?" as you play with the short hair at the base of his skull.

It might be your imagination, but the android sounds like he's out of breath as he mutters, "Again, please."

Bishop

The Flamingos - I Only Have Eyes For You

You'd initially agreed to dance with him to help him practice- a fun distraction after hours of hunching over your microscope- but now that you're standing before him, your nervousness is almost unbearable. You take a few steadying breaths while he plugs an interfacing cable into his left arm and queues up a song that's a bit slower than his usual choices. Bishop offers a hand to you, and if he notices the way that yours shakes when you take it, he doesn't comment on it. You take your place in his arms, and there's no hesitation as he starts to move the two of you around the tiny bit of open space.

"You've been practicing!" You exclaim, giving Bishop an impressed look as you dance with him.

"In my free time. But, it's much more useful to dance with a partner. Thank you for indulging me."

"Your rhythm is a lot better than it was a month ago," You comment, "You're doing great."

"I am?"

The synthetic makes a move to look down, and you're quick to let go of his hand to hook your fingers under his chin.

"Don't look at your feet." You chide.

"Why not?"

"It'll mess up your rhythm. It's easier to move with a person if you're looking them in the eye."

Bishop nods and lets out a thoughtful hum as he processes the advice. The weight of his hand on your waist is new but not unwelcome, and you take a moment to revel in the experience of being in his arms- even if it's just for practice. You return your right hand to his, and the silence that settles between you feels comfortable instead of awkward as Bishop leads you around the lab. The song's sweeping melody combines with the dimmed lights to create a strangely intimate atmosphere. You do your best not to let your nerves show as the synthetic takes your advice, soft green eyes drifting upward to meet yours.

As the song continues, you realize that you're moving closer and closer to him, but you're not doing it on purpose. You frown as you try to determine what's pushing the two of you together, breaking Bishop's stare to start investigating as you begin to mutter, "Bishop, are you-"

"I think-"

Both of you jolt as something pulls taut and stops you from turning further. You look down to discover that the interfacing cable has been winding around the two of you for the last three minutes, and you've finally reached the end of the line. Your bodies are tied together from the waist down with barely enough room to shuffle your feet. You laugh at your predicament, and when Bishop follows your gaze and sees the source of the problem, he lets out an amused huff of his own.

"I'm sorry," He chuckles, "I was so focused on not looking at my feet that I... lost track of the cord..."

"Just means we have to play something else and... spin in the other direction... for three more minutes..."

Your voice falters as you take in how close to each other you really are. Your chest is pressed against his, and at this distance, you can almost count each of his eyelashes as Bishop stares at you. He glances at your lips- an action that takes barely a second- and your breath catches in your throat. A charged silence falls over you as you eye each other, and Bishop's the first to break it, his voice a low rumble as it fills the air between you.

"I'd like to kiss you."

"I'd like it if you did." You whisper.

Cool, gentle hands come up to cradle your jaw, and your first kiss is soft and unhurried. Your hands curl into the fabric of his jumpsuit as you melt against him. You tilt your head in search of a better angle and increase the pressure, and he mimics you with perfect accuracy, thumbs sweeping in slow arcs over your cheekbones. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and Bishop makes a soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat before reciprocating with enthusiasm. His hands trail down your neck and shoulders, raising goosebumps in their wake, and settle on your hips.

Another song fades in, and you grin when you feel Bishop start to turn the two of you in the opposite direction. You reach up to lace your fingers together at the nape of his neck, the fine hairs there tickling your skin.

"If you're not otherwise engaged," He murmurs, lips quirking into a lopsided smile, "I'd like to ask you for another dance."

"I'm sorta tied up at the moment."

David 8

David Bowie - As The World Falls Down

You stare out at the stars, curled up on one of the break room couches, and hum softly to yourself as you watch the universe go by. The low rumble of the Prometheus' engines is a comforting background drone.

"What are you singing?"

You jolt at the sound of David's quiet, inquisitive voice and turn to locate the source. He stands a few feet behind you, hands clasped behind his back. His head tilts to the right as he repeats his question.

"It's... It's an old Earth song that I like." You sputter, feeling embarrassed about being overheard.

"I'd like to hear it." He murmurs, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It's not dark and brooding or anything," You nervously chuckle, running a hand over the back of your neck while David circles the couch to stand in front of you, "Not really up your alley."

He asks you for the title anyway. You tell him, and he glances toward the ceiling. After a moment of silence, you hear it- your song, playing softly through the shipwide intercoms. David holds a hand out for you, and your stomach drops when you realize that he's asking you to dance with him.

"I... I don't know how-"

"I insist," He purrs, lips stretching into a warm, inviting smile, "Please, indulge me."

You breathe out, "Okay," and put your hand in his. He pulls you to your feet and gently manipulates you into a basic starting position. The fabric of his uniform jacket is soft, and your heart flutters at the feeling of a cool hand slowly engulfing yours.

"Focus on me," He instructs, "I shall lead you."

You nod, and the room begins to spin as you're swept into a waltz. You start to lose yourself in the music, and the android lets out an approving hum.

"You're doing very well."

"Thank you."

He leads you into a spin, and the movement pulls a carefree laugh out of you. David reels you in again and uses a bit too much force. You plant a hand on his chest to keep your bodies from colliding, and the breath is punched from your lungs when you look up to see that you're barely a hair's breadth apart. Warm blue eyes rove over the planes of your face slowly, as if committing it to memory, and the hand on your waist drifts toward your lower back to press you closer. He looks at you intently, reverently, as if you're the most interesting specimen he's ever had the pleasure of observing. You stare up at him, brow furrowing as you try to make sense of the butterflies that have suddenly taken up residence in your stomach.

"David, what-"

He interrupts you by starting to sing in a low, rich voice. His own voice- not an imitation of the music. You gape at him, starstruck, and the corners of his mouth curl into an indulgent smile as he continues to sing. You start to whisper the words with him, both of you inching closer and closer together.

The kiss feels inevitable- an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. His hand tightens around yours, and the sigh that escapes him is functionally unnecessary, but it conveys all of his feelings for you in less than a second. He stops turning and settles for swaying in place with you, letting go of your hand to cradle the base of your skull and trap you against him. You rest your hands on his chest and lean forward to deepen the kiss.

"Sweet creature," He whispers, the words muffled against your mouth, "Do you know what you've done?"

"What?"

He leans back to look at you, eyes shining in the light of the stars, and says, "All of my plans must be revised."

"Why?"

"For you," He purrs, running his fingers through your hair, "I'm afraid I shall have to move the stars to keep you."

The implication is wrapped in such a pretty package that you can almost ignore the writhing feeling of fear in your gut. Plans? What plans? He kisses you again, and your brow furrows as you desperately try to put the pieces together. You break the kiss to ask him, "Keep me how-"

The hand in your hair curls into a fist and gently tugs, and your mind goes blank.

"I shall tell you in due time, darling," He murmurs, lips ghosting over yours, "I promise."

Kirsh

Joy Division - Atmosphere

"I hope there's a good reason for why you're standing out here and not in the lab."

The flat, unamused voice is barely audible over your music, and the tone makes you chuckle. You turn to face Kirsh with a serene smile that you're sure annoys the synthetic more than the indignant response he was likely hoping for.

"There aren't any windows in there," You quietly explain, swaying in place while Kirsh looks on, "I was feeling claustrophobic."

"And dancing outside... alone... is helping?" He asks, eyebrows raising.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it." You quip, closing your eyes and turning away from him.

"You're not coming back inside, are you."

It's a statement, not a question- spoken with utmost severity. You grin, though you know he can't see it, and let out an affirmative hum. There's a tired sigh, a few footsteps in the grass, and then he's standing before you with his hands clasped behind his back, looking very much like a put-upon parent.

"If I dance with you, will you come back to the lab and stop fidgeting for the rest of your shift?"

You say yes as a joke, fully intending to return to work after five more minutes, but Kirsh doesn't take it that way. His face is a mask of grim determination as he takes your hand and reels you in. A warm, steady hand finds a home on your waist, and he casts a pointed glance at your headphones.

"What are you listening to?"

"I think you'll like it, if that's what you're asking."

There's a soft chirp in your ear as the synthetic connects to your headphones and rewinds the song. He's still for a moment as he listens to the opening notes. He nods once in approval before he begins to move. He isn't programmed for dancing, and you're no expert yourself, so the two of you settle for swaying gently back and forth and moving in a vaguely circular pattern.

He observes you as the two of you move about in the grass, and you find yourself staring back- taking in every freckle, the perfectly-placed crow's feet, the crease that forms between his brows as he continues to study you. Warm breath fans across your lips, and you're jolted back into reality as you realize that you're closer now than you were a moment ago. Kirsh's lips part as if he's getting ready to say something, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, and your heart stutters in your chest when you finally register that he's leaning toward you. Feeling brave, you tilt your face upward and eliminate the last few inches between you.

Kirsh doesn't respond for a beat too long, and you mutter an apology against his lips as you open your eyes and start to lean back. Some kind of realization seems to wash over him. His usual frown melts into an expression of interest- a guarded kind of curiosity. The hand on your waist skims upward to press between your shoulder blades, and then, his lips are on yours. He kisses you slowly, methodically, lips barely parting to mold to yours. You want more, but you're not sure if he'll oblige you if you ask, so you settle for playing dirty. You wind your arms around his shoulders and bury your left hand in his hair, using your hold on him to add pressure to the kiss, and run your tongue along the seam of his mouth. He responds in kind, parting his lips with a curious hum and studying your strategy as you explore with your tongue. When he finally reciprocates, his movements are precise- a perfect imitation.

☆`° Ash would write: Work updates | Where he'll be on the Nostromo | Reminders for your health

✿ When you first brought up the idea of writing notes for each other, Ash was quick to point out how useless that is. Telling you the percentage of time that you don't spend together is so low that writing would be more of an inconvenience than anything else. By the end of your talk, Ash would be led to believe that you forgot how to use the intercom and he would demonstrate how it works along with pointing out how effective it is compare to leaving notes.

❀ You might have to explain to him the point of writing to each other a couple of times along with giving examples for Ash to get. He does his best to follow your example and appease you. However, he writes very basic and very boring notes.

They're always short and to the point. Telling you what work task needs to be done, or what test is currently being performed. A note stuck to somewhere that's hard to miss, telling you where he is whenever he has to step out of the room, and you're not there to witness. But hes usually entering the room by the time you finish reading it.

Or painfully blunt reminders about your health. You can't tell if Ash is deliberately missing the romantic aspect of writing notes purposefully or not.

If you find this dear, I am currently in the Med Bay Science Officer Ash

Drink water dearest – Science Officer Ash

Dear, instruments are currently being clean in the autoclave

Science Officer Ash

✿He signs every note with his work title. You can't take it away from him; he refuses to sign with his name only or nickname. You will acknowledge that he is the Science Officer of the Nostromo as he signs it on every single note. He uses both nicknames and your name, but leans more towards your name to address you.

❀The moment you express some disinterest, he will drop this task as he finds it pointless. Finding it easier to either wait for you, seek you out or use the intercoms to call for you.

☆`° Bishop would write; Positive affirmation | Reminders for you health | Fun Facts

✿When you first brought up the idea of writing notes for each other, it'll take some time and examples on what to write for Bishop to truly understand. Expect a trial-and-error period where Bishop checks in to make sure his notes are what you want. Along with lots of questions.

❀ In the beginning, his notes only held simple health reminders. A 'drink water' and 'Please stretch your back in thirty minutes' type of notes. But with him checking in to improve they turn into some, albeit basic, positive affirmations.

You're doing a good job, darling!

With more encouragement, Bishop will have fun writing fun facts for you to find in the labs, in your locker, or anywhere else you visit on the ship. His fun facts are always something relevant, be it work, a topic brought up or something you're interested in.

Did you know that a Magnestar has the strongest magnetic fields that we know of. If you were to get within 1,000 km the magnetic field will strip the electrons from your body and kill you. L.B

✿At first, Bishop would sign off with his initials or full name, but eventually he would just sign 'Bishop'. When addressing you, he uses both your name and nicknames, but leans more towards nicknames once he understands the romantic intent. He's aware of how much you like them.

❀Unfortunately, you will receive one raunchy note. Either fill to the brim with innuendos or the most awful pick-up lines you have ever read. That was the Space Marines' fault; they found Bishop as he was writing and demanded to 'help' him out.

☆`° David-8 would write; work updates | Love Letter

✿ When you first brought up the idea of writing notes for each other, David would also think that this task is pointless. It's most likely that he is already sending you messages containing work updates, files, and reports via the devices you use on Prometheus.

❀It's by explaining and writing your own note for David, which he admires and finds amusing, that he will understand and perform the task.

You still get sent messages about work on your decive but now you'll receive it occasionally on some piece of paper on your desk. Until finally you get a real letter left in a place only you will find, your locker or room, that is written beautifully and fills every check box of a 'love letter'. But on second reading, it seems a bit strange in places.

My Deartest, I have read your latest report in regards of the geographical scan on the planet below. The details you write at in how you examine your findings, providing vital data for the crew on the Promtheus. Achieving new heights of academic level that you must be proud of. I am continually amazed by your brilliance. The delivery of your findings to the Captain were pratical and short. It was need yet I find myself, strangely, disappointed at how swift your presenation was. It did little to highlight your excellences. It is a shame and disserveris how you must share that role with Dr. Sean Fifield who does nothing to aid with your work or image. As you stand, in the centre, voice professional. I find myself enraptured, though you wear the command uniform, the way it captures your form …. You turn away from the letter, needing a break from reading as you feel a hot flush spread from your chest to throughout your body. You weren't expecting the letter to take such a turn. Weren't ready to read about your body in such detail or to learn how David views your body. The letter was everything and more than you hope for when you spot it in your locker. You hear what sounds like a chuckle and turn to face the door way with alarm. Only to be confused when face with nothing. You're quick to hide the letter and leave for somewhere more private, blaming your nerves on the exictment of David's words to imagine the sound.

✿ The letters don't occur often, but they take your breath away. He writes about you, your qualities, admiring your personality in poetic lines as he writes your physical features with a deep appreciation that it feels like he's worshipping you through the letter.

Every word is intentional, and he designs the lines to make you flustered. However, on second reading, you can't help but wonder how he gathered that level of detail and if he's watching you.

❀Would sign off with "yours, David" or "your beloved, David" that has you swooning. Refuse to sign it as David-8, along with strictly using nicknames with an emphasis on 'my' at the start of each one when addressing you.

☆`° Kirsh wouldn't write

✿ When you first brought up the idea of writing notes for each other, Kirsh refuses to leave behind notes, even when explained the romantic intent behind it.

He finds the task pointless and despises how it leaves a literal paper trail behind. How easy it could get into the wrong hands. But he won't explain the dangerous aspect of it; he'll call it childish as he answered no.

❀If he has to contact you, it's by calling. They're very short and to the point. He will hang up if he feels they're dragging on or had enough of your teasing. As Kirsh prefers to seek you out since most of the time when he's contacting you, it's to request your presence. It's easier for him to grab your attention in person.

✿The only time he ever leaves a note behind is a 'to-do list' with all the tasks written very simpifly, that it is downright insulting to your intelligence. But this would take days– weeks of begging and annoying Kirsh to get. I believe pulling out teeth would have been easier than getting this note.

"Kirsh, what is this?" You ask, lifting up the note between your thumb and pointing finger. It was place right on your desk, unavoidable to miss, with its context written in clear simple words that would be use for a child. It was a to do list, yet it only detail one of your task – breaking it down step by step. It was down right insulting. "It's the note that you've been asking for." Kirsh answer, his voice low as he stands from behind you. Watching your reaction from over your shoulder. You look towards him to see his smug satisfaction as he joyfully takes in of your disappointed grimace.

❀Won't sign the to-do list. He addresses you by your name over the calls, but by the tone or a sigh that follows makes it feel like your name is the new slang for 'idiot'. But the fact that he fulfilled your note request by writing the to-do list has to mean something, right?

☆`° Walter 1 would write: Work reminders | Positive affirmations

✿When you first brought up the idea of writing notes for each other, Walter will try his best to follow your examples of exchanging 'love notes'. Keeps every example you give him and studies them for guidance. You probably get one or two notes that feel like a 'love note'. But then they fall into a mix of basic and thoughtful positive affirmations, until they become mainly work reminders. He tries his best, but it is an art form he can not master.

❀ The aspect that Walter fails at the most is leaving the note behind for you to find.

The moment he finishes writing on the sticky note, he looks around the room for one second to consider placing it. Until he determined it's safer to hand deliver it than wait for you to find the note. The only place he feels comfortable leaving them behind is in your quarters, but then he becomes angsty to know if you receive them.

"Walter?" You call out in surprise as you catch sight of him hurriedly walking through the corridors. The sythinic is quick to return, appearing please to see you as he walks towards you. You're unsure of what could cause his actions to feel urgent until he holds out a paper slip for you. "Its the note you ask for. I wanted to make sure you received it." Walter straightforwardly explains. You take the note from his hand, it's a small piece of paper that's folded with the edges lining up perfectly and label with your name. You spare a glance to see that Walter is watching intently. Waiting for you to read the note. You flip the paper open and begin to read the note. "Is it to your liking?" Walter ask slowly, his voice above a whisper to not disturb you but eagerly seeking out reassures or feed back.

❀He always signs it off with his name. He is another one to use a mix of nicknames or your name when addressing you in the note. With a preference for the latter.

The Nostromo

Easily the most efficient matchmakers of the bunch. Weirdly enough, it's Brett who first notices the way that you and Ash are dancing around each other.

He's lounging in his bunk while Parker, Lambert, and Dallas play poker at the dining table and Ripley makes a fresh pot of coffee. Kane's leaning against the captain and watching the game with his chin resting in his hands, cigarette dangling from his lips. After a few moments of ruminating, the engineer finally speaks up.

"Is anybody gonna force those two to get together, or am I gonna have to take matters into my own hands?"

Everyone pauses to look at each other. No one has to ask what he's talking about- they've all seen you spending late nights in the lab and watched Ash follow you around like a lost dog. Dallas sighs tiredly and sets his cards down to mutter, "Fine. What's the game plan?"

The plan, it turns out, is to give you two as much time alone as possible while each crew member gives you advice or hints at Ash's obvious crush on you. It's difficult enough to fully relax when there's 6 other people all up in your space- imagine how much harder it would be to confess your feelings with everyone watching! Everyone has to go planetside for a resupply, but don't worry- they'll grab that medical restock for you! No, no- you stay on board and relax. Perhaps they'll try to set a more romantic mood, too, while they're gone.

The Nostromo suddenly switches to its nighttime lighting cycle, despite all of the clocks telling you that it's 15:30. Mother is delightfully unhelpful if you ask her what's wrong. "Power-saving mode activated in the absence of crew presence." "I'm right here, Mother." "Orders of Captain Dallas." You cast a suspicious glower at the ceiling and ask, "Why?" but the computer is infuriatingly silent. You have to move your things to Ash's workstation and share the lamp with him. You try your best to ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach each time your shoulders brush.

Any time something needs to be delivered to Ash, the task automatically falls to you. Doesn't matter if it's extra chemicals, more coffee, or a new pen- someone's handing the item to you with a barely-contained smile and complaining about how they're too busy to make the delivery. After two weeks of delivery duty, combined with all of the oddly coordinated stretches of "alone time," you finally confront Parker about it.

"You're not busy," You deadpan, fixing Parker with an unamused glower, "And you're not just being lazy, either. Come on- spill it." The chief engineer huffs out, "God dammit-" as he takes his feet off of the dining table and leans forward in his chair to mumble at you. "He likes you," The man grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, "We're tryin' to make this thing happen, y'know?" "No," You mutter, giving Parker a suspicious squint, "I don't." You take the package and stalk to the lab, and as usual, Ash doesn't look up from his microscope when you call out a greeting. He does pause, however, when you come to a stop over his right shoulder and announce, "Parker tells me you're fond of me, and the crew's been acting weird around us for the last two weeks. Do you know anything about it?" The science officer's fingers twitch where they rest on the coarse focus knob, but his answer is immediate and his voice is steady, "They are attempting to orchestrate some sort of grand confession between us." You let out a nonplussed, "Hmph," and set the box on Ash's workstation. "Would you like to enter into an intimate relationship?" The synthetic quietly asks, eyes flicking between your form and the microscope's oculars. Your lips stretch into a giddy grin, and it's difficult to keep your voice from shaking as you murmur, "Yes, I would." You try to ignore the distant, muffled sound of the crew cheering as they watch the exchange on one of the bridge monitors.

The Sulaco

Absolute hams. Prepare yourself for lots of badly-coordinated stunts that include:

Being shoved into a closet with him and hearing the door lock behind you Entering a room that he's already in and having to stand and watch as the rest of the Marines evacuate like there's an active fire happening Actively wishing you could dissolve through the floor as Hudson wiggles his eyebrows and loudly remarks, "Hey, Bishop, don'tcha think our friend's lookin' extra hot today?"

The intentions are good, but the execution leaves much to be desired. Ripley and Hicks observe from afar as your friends make fools of themselves (and, by association, you) and talk it over for all of a minute before deciding that they're not going to interfere.

Luckily for you, the synthetic in question takes each interesting new situation in stride- reaching past you to key in an override and allow you out of the closet or responding to Hudson's prying with a graceful non-answer before going right back to work.

In the instances when the Marines vacate the room, his brow furrows in a vague approximation of confusion before he gives you a faint smile and starts talking to you as if nothing's happened. Your crewmates let out a collective groan as they listen to the two of you eat lunch by yourselves in the mess- all of the signs are there! Why can't either of you see it?

Drake comments on it almost daily. Watches as Bishop completely ignores the rest of the guys at the table in favor of asking you about your day. He's so focused on you, head tilted to one side in obvious interest, and the private just has to throw his hands into the air and shout, "Come on- it's like you guys are married or something!"

After months and months of failure, they finally decide to leave the two of you alone, and that's when it happens.

It's been an oddly peaceful week for you, and you feel almost on-edge as you wander into the mess hall to make yourself more coffee. You barely hear Bishop plodding toward you as you stand in front of the hot drink dispenser. You call out a greeting which he softly returns. You watch as he puts in a request for twelve cinnamon rolls, brow furrowing. "You, uh... On a mission?" You joke, gesturing toward the ordering screen. "It's for Spunkmeyer's birthday party," Bishop explains, eyes darting between you and the food replicator, "It starts at 17:00, and it takes a lot longer for Mother to make these fresh, so I'm giving her a head start." You nod and let out an understanding hum, but it's cut off when the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see the Marines at the lunch table straighten up and pretend like they weren't just eavesdropping on you. You lean toward Bishop and lower your voice to ask, "Are you also feeling mildly suspicious now that the antics have stopped?" "They were entertaining for me, if I'm being honest." He jokes, lips twitching into a small smile. "Well, I'm glad one of us was enjoying it." You grumble good-naturedly, rolling your eyes and moving to take your mug out of the dispenser. "Do you mean to say that you didn't like being locked in a closet with me?" Your lips move before your brain can catch up with them, "Oh, I liked it- I just wish it happened under more organic circumstances." Something clatters to the floor behind you- a lunch tray, from the sound of it- and you freeze, white-knuckling your mug with both hands. "Uh... Gotta go!" You sputter, rushing past Bishop and trying not to spill your coffee as you fast-walk out of the mess hall. He catches up to you in less than a minute, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you. You let out a defeated groan and stare into your mug, shoulders drooping as you wait for the gentle rejection to come. A hand comes into view and hovers just under your chin. "Can I touch you?" You nod, throat tightening as your embarrassment peaks. Gentle fingers brush the underside of your jaw and tilt your head upward so the synthetic can look at you. Instead of the gentle pity you're expecting, Bishop's eyes glint with something like mirth when your gaze meets his. His voice is soft and low and tinged with amusement. "I'd gladly get stuck in a closet with you again- all you have to do is ask."

The Prometheus

Oh, christ. Half of the crew is rooting for you, and the other half is trying to sabotage you. Fortunately, every disaster only brings you and David closer together.

Janek, Fifield, and Milburn are unlikely allies as they work against Meredith to keep the two of you together. Janek likes how much your romance bothers Vickers, and Milburn just thinks the two of you are cute together. Fifield wants to be in on any and all antics and constantly asks for updates from the other two.

Meredith loathes you. Hates how much patience and adoration you show toward her "brother" and actively tries to get you off of the ship by any means necessary. Orchestrates situations where you'll be gravely injured in the hope that you'll be sent home on medical leave, but she doesn't anticipate the consequences of her actions.

You're wandering the cargo bay and doing your third inventory of the month when you hear a suspicious creaking sound overhead. You barely have time to react as the stack of pallets behind you topples over. You manage to avoid most of the carnage, but one of the pallets catches your right shoulder and shoves your arm out of the socket. You let out a pained cry and drop your tablet. The intercom that's closest to you crackles to life, and a familiar, smooth voice issues from it. "Stay where you are. I'll be there to assist you shortly." Meredith was hoping that the injury would put you out of commission for a few weeks at worst and send you home permanently at best, but she fails to account for the fact that David is medically trained. She hears of your "accident" when two crew members pass by, "Fourth accident this quarter. Must be bad luck." She gleefully checks her personal video feeds only to see you sitting in medbay while David very gently puts your arm back into place. Her blood boils as she listens to the synthetic coo encouraging words to you and run a soothing hand along your good arm while you cry. God dammit. Pushed to her limit, she makes her most telling move- she files a report on you, detailing how unfit you are for your job, how you should be replaced as soon as possible. "Nice try," Janek drawls as he returns her report a day later with a glaring red VOID stamp on it, "They ain't goin' nowheres."

David is aware of her scheming, of course. It's been incredibly helpful. He gets to spend more time bonding with you- even if the circumstances are less than ideal. Wishes that Vickers didn't have so much corporate influence. If she were not related to Peter Weyland, she would have been blacklisted by now for extreme harassment. He's almost grateful for Janek and Milburn's assistance when Meredith tries one last, near-fatal trick.