#mark jameson

I see what you are doing with this prompt, but the last one hurt, so this one is Soft.  Because I said so.

“We really do have to go, Captain,” Mark says, a note of exasperated affection in his voice.

“I know, I know, just-” Mads starts, and she doesn’t bother finishing, turning to rummage through yet another drawer.  She doesn’t have that many drawers, she doesn’t have that much stuff, how can she not be finding what she needs?

She briefly considers the notion that it’s been phased out of existence.  Maybe they have parasites, maybe there’s a tiny burrower on board.

She wonders if they come that small, or planetside, and decides that’s an awful idea that she’s going to hand over to the science department to worry about.

“They’re waiting for us,” Mark chides gently, and Mads pauses, eyes narrowing.  She turns around, and fixes Mark with a stern look.

“What did I tell you about calling me Captain?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes even as his expression goes soft.

“Not while we’re parked,” he recites, and Mads lifts an eyebrow expectantly.  “Sorry.  We really do have to go, Mads.”

“Better,” she says, favoring him with a soft look of her own.  “Now stop rushing me, it’s not like we’re going to miss anything.”

“Not sure about that,” he teases, crossing over to her side.  “You know how Cassie is about schedules.  The ladies’ performance begins at 21:00 precisely.  They’ll start without us.  What are we looking for?”

“My pin,” Mads says, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone.  “It’s our first celebration here, I want to dress up.”  And she wants everyone to see her wear it- wants Whiskey to see her wear it.  Mark’s expression goes knowing, and he lifts a brow and touches the top of the built-in.  She nods, and he starts rifling through the scattered handful of things that have begun to pile up.

She’s surprised how much there is; she hadn’t brought much with her.  She’s never been one to accumulate things.

She lifts a pile of wide, leathery leaves- Tamara thinks they might be useful for textiles, Mads isn’t sure how they wound up in her quarters, thinks she might’ve just gathered them up with everything else last night before heading back aboard- and makes a satisfied sound.  The box isn’t much to look at, but the pin inside is delicate and smooth, carefully crafted and shaped like a moonflower.

“Great.  Let’s get out there before-”

There’s a pounding on the wall next to the door.

“Your absence is being noted, oh Captain-my-Captain,” Alex calls, voice raised to carry through the closed door.  “Do I need to come in there?”

“Do not,” Mads calls back, feeling a bubble of laughter- exasperated but fond- rise up.  “I needed to find something, we’re on our way.”

“Oh,” Alex says, managing to sound arch even on the other side of the door.  “We.  I got it.  Catch you two outside,” she says, and Mads can picture the deliberate wink.  She turns to Mark with an imploring expression, looking for sympathy, but Mark is grinning at her, eyes sparkling.

“I told you they were waiting,” he says.  “We better get moving.”

He leans in, and Mads goes up on her toes to meet him partway, catching the front of his shirt and pulling him down.  He’s still smiling when their lips meet, and Mads likes how it feels.  It’s not what she’d expected, this thing between them- it’s lighter, softer, than she’d imagined it would be.

She likes how that feels, too.

“You know,” she murmurs, still close enough that their lips brush with each word, “Alex probably doesn’t actually expect us out there immediately.”

“True,” Mark says, tilting forward just enough so that his forehead is pressed against hers, “but she’ll probably come back if we linger too long.”

“Later, then,” she says, because he’s right and she knows it, but she’s loathe to give up this moment.

“Later,” Mark agrees, a promise, and she kisses him again, harder this time, a silent assurance that she’ll be holding him to that.

The only good thing about this ending is the SamxSix vacation around the world.