#lance bishop

Ash

✧The first time he heard this name, his head snapped in your direction, wearing a deer in head lights expression. He's so confused, he believe at first you were talking about your life on earth. But that's not right because since when were you married?! Fidgets as he interrupts you to ask for clarification as he need answers asap.

✧After you explain, he visibly eases up but still remains perplexed at the name. His fidgeting lessen but you still notice it, you ask for his permission to ask him that. Fearful he hates the name.

✧Only you can catch him off guard like this. He reluctantly agrees, brushing it off as a silly human thing. It's harmless, not something worth jumping at. Does he jump when you call him that? Yes, he needs an adjustment period.

✧Because as harmless as the name is, it provkes so many thoughts in his head. Wondering if you actually want marriage and if that's something he can achieve. What would that even look like for him?

✧He slowly warms up to the name. When seeing how the crew reacts, how accepting they all are to it. Realising it helps him blend in better. Soon, he learns to adore the name as he recognises the unspoken claim the title has given him on you. How the others won't bother you or even expect him to be with you and vice versa. What an interesting development.

A devilish grin form on your lips as you quietly enter the lounge room and immediately spot Ash sitting at the main table, eating his regular ceral. It would be terrible if someone were to disturb him. With a glance around the room, you see Bertt and Parker are playing a round of cards in their corner. With a plan form, youre quick to leap into action. "Has anyone seen my work husband?" You ask as you approach Brett and Parker, yet the boys attention spin to Ash due to the sound of a spoon hitting ceramic. Ash spins in his seat, trying to locate you while you forgein innocent of finding him. "There you are Ash, I've been looking for you." Ash spins in his seat again for a better angle and the sound of his bowl thump unsteady on the table, indicating he accidentally hit it during his fidgeting. Brett and Parker snicker at the sight of the very flustered Sicene officer that you take delight in. "You have?" Ash asks with a surprise tone and looking at you wide eyes.

Lance Bishop

✧Most accepting of the title out of the group. He accepts it. Yes, he is Lance 'Work Husband' Bishop, thanks for noticing.

✧In the beginning, he's confused about it. He understands the term 'husband' but in terms of the workplace, the poor boy is so lost. As you explain the fondness and endearment behind it. Bishop just nods and either accepts it or has a follow up question before accepting it. He's so chill about it.

✧If your explanation involves any mention of how well you work together, he is so honour by the compliment. He's giving the puppy dog look, appearing starve for compliments/praise. Moving on, when hearing the name– he lights up. Eager to assist.

✧Also wonders if he should think about marriage. It's not exactly something he can do, and he worries about you and your expectations you might have. Most likely to bring those conversations up with you

✧Once you reassure him that you like the name and don't need to think about that. He brushes it off, as long as you're happy, he's happy. Able to tease you about it and poke some fun at it. Maybe even a cheeky replying to your response with his own

"yes, wife/husband/spouse?"

✧If the crew tease him about the name, he rolls with it. Will answer to the name from others.

You have forgeten the type of friends you have. Specifically how rowdy the marines can get with new jokes.

As you sit at the table waiting for your food that Bishop has so kindly offered to get for you. You are held at Vasquez, Hudson and even Drakes mercy as they spill every new joke they can about the name you have given to Bishop.

"Whats the matter?Your work husband divored you?" Hudson tease as you groan. You are seriously regeting saying the name publicly.

"I bet Bishop gets the kids and you have to pay child support!" You dont even pay attention tk who made that comment, as you buried your face into your hands at the uproar of laughter it causes.

"No." At the the sound of the Bishop's voice, you peak through your hands. Watching Bishop break through the crew with ease, holding out a tray towards you. "I was only gone for a moment to perform my 'work husband' duties."

You accept the tray, feeling your face burn out of embrassment as Vasquez pokes fun and the other marines contuine laughin. Yet you foucs on Bishop, as he takes his seat across from you and smiles.

David-8

✧You're spelling out your doom here

✧When he first heard the name, his reaction appears so innocent. Looking only baffled by the name, as he does a double-take.

"I beg your pardon?"

✧He'll ask questions, appearing curious about the term. Especially if any of the crew heard it and agrees with it. After the basic questions, he'll appear satisfied and leave it as is, or if you two are busy with work and get cut off, he looks to have shrugged it off. That you would believe he has label it as 'silly human behaviour' and nothing more.

✧But you just open pandora's box as it's all he can think about. He's over thinking the meaning, signifcants of marragie, your ability of team work with him and others. He can't marry and the name is very human. Does this mean you see him as human?

✧ He'll wait till you're alone and bring the topic up. Launching more questions at you. Trying to appear nonchant about it .But as the questions go on, you swear there's a desperate tone in his voice.

✧He wants to know what about him appears as a 'work husband'. Is it because he's forced to submit? Or do you yearn for him in more ways than he expect? It just adds to his identity complex and becomes something for him to latch onto. To think over the traits of a 'work husband' and maybe even try to relate it to his favourite movie character.

✧After that conversation, he puts the mask on. Looking unphase by it but the more you use it, hearing the crew acknowledge it. The more fond of it he becomes, and therefore. More fond of you he becomes. Maybe a small smile, or a witty remark as he secretly craves more.

You fear you may have broken David, as he contuines to stare at you in a sort of daze. You didnt mean anything by the name. Wait, no, you did. As you become fond of David but you didn't think he react like this!

"Are you okay there, David?" You ask gently, concern for him as you approach.

It appears that did the trick as David blinks, becoming alert as he addresses you. You wonder if you just witness him bluffer/load like some software.

"Im quite alright, doctor." David nods his head, smiling politely for the right amount of time until his brows furrow. Tilting his head to show his interest at the name. "Just... surprise by that 'term'. Is there any... particularly reason you would call me your...'work husband'?"

You let out a chuckle at how carefully David is picking his words. You think hes trying to perform some hostage negotiation. "Well, yeah, work husband can be use to refer a close colleague you work well with. Someone you trust deeply, like a regular husband."

"And you trust me?" David asked softly, looking surprise and in awe at your asnwer. All while you nod easily and smile widely at him. Unaware of how thoroughly you shaken him to his core.

 Kirsh

✧The sass you'll get when he first hears that name. The only one to fight you against the name in the beginning. It's ridiculous! You're only settling yourself to get picked on by Boy Kavalier. It's so illogical and very human of you to call him that. To read into your professional work relationship. Pointing out how he doesn't share the same sentiment about marriage as you do.

✧Just very mean and rude at the start.Dropping remarks here and there or point blank rolling his eyes in your face. Does he hate the name? A little bit. Is he flustered by the sudden term of commitment you are displaying to him? Also yes.

✧If you keep calling him that, you can wear him down. To the point, he accepts that it's his new 'nick name' of sorts and will make/force a ground rule that you call him that in private. His sass lessens with time, his rude remarks will become a simple bombastic side eye at the name. Maybe a huff or head shake if he feels dramatic.

✧Don't let the show fool you. Because he will always answer to the name without fail. If you ever decide to drop the name– maybe his sass got to you, you reach your limit with it, or you feel bad. HE will bring it up. He will ask about the sudden lack of the name and in his own roundabout way, he will ask you to keep using it. Diva

You notice a shift in the air as you work alongside with Kirsh, his movements appear shaprer. More tense as he foucs on the screen. The few glances you spare in his direction, you almost believe you caught sight of him pressing his lips in a tight thin grimace.

But then you hear you thoughts, hear how human you describe him and shake your head. Annoyed at yourself. You deicde to drop the name 'work husband' as you couldn't help yourself from overthinking Kirsh words. Becoming self critical of yourself and your actions around the attractive sythinic.

Trying to keep to yourself and blaming the shift you feel is actually coming from you. You sigh softly as you foucs at the task.

"You've been doing that a lot more."

"What?" You spin your chair as you turn to face Kirsh.

"Sighing. I've noting the increase pattern of the behaviour. Along with the decrease use of that name."

"Oh, um," you fumble, unable to dignify a response as you struggle to catch up with the conversation. It feels like Kirsh is pulling the rug from under you while he calmly goes about his task.

After a beat, Kirsh finally turns away from his work to face you. His eyes narrow as if hes examining you. "Do I not meet your 'work husband critical' any more?"

You blink for a few moments, trying to get you head to wrap around the situation. His tone is sharp, as if hes trying to mock you again. To knoc you down and claim victory.

But the way he lunges into this topic sets, how his voice carries another tone beneath. Could it be hurt? Does that mean what you notice of Kirsh earlier... Was that him being upset you didn't call him your work husband?

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.