Title: Come And Get Your Love
Paring: Mark Watney X Reader
Warnings: language warning for gif, feels, talk of being alone, death, etc...
Spoilers: yeah please read the book/watch the movie but read the book it's A+
Author's Note: First Mark Watney/Reader fic on the internet HELL YEAH ヽ(ﾟｰﾟ*ヽ)ヽ(*ﾟｰﾟ*)ﾉ(ﾉ*ﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ
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It's a quiet morning. It's always a quiet morning, mainly because you had insisted on getting an apartment high up and away from the noise of the traffic and the general hubbub of the city noise. If you knew this would be your last morning waking up beside your boyfriend, you would have looked to him longer, to memorise his face, to watch him sleep. How he had a small smile in his dreams, hand clutching yours as if death would occur if he let go.
Mark Watney was the sort of man who many people wondered openly why you had made the commitment to be with. Your mother had been offended when you were sleeping with "a botanist? This isn't a game, _______, that isn't even real science!" and brother, a high school sport coach, had laughed. Many friends had set you on blind dates to "open your eyes" from this "hippy" who dreamed to be an astronaut.
The thing was, though, that's why you loved him. You loved his lopsided smile and funny jokes and the fact he spliced seeds in the kitchen and showed you how to irrigate a biome in an old coffee jar kept on the top of the TV. You loved his mop of blonde mess, and his silly jokes and how he managed to get along with almost everyone.
You wish you could have frozen time right there, just before he opened his eyes. Maybe then it wouldn't have been so bad to hear the news from his superiors.
"Babe, it's morning?" he whined. "No...it can't be."
You nod. "Yeah, it's the big day."
Mark scrunched his nose. "But I don't wanna."
You laughed, and kissed his brow. "I'll quote you on that, Mark. Mark Watney, the day of the big launch, refused to get out of bed because he didn't "wanna"." You smirk, and toss the covers off his body. "Come on. You're an astronaut. Time to make a move."
He snuffled. "Fine. But because I love you."
Stretching, you made your way upright along with Mark. "How much do you love me? It's a simple question...I'm just wondering."
"To Mars and back, _______."
With a start, he is awake. A voice tells him he is dead, and he left his _______ alone back on Earth and he'll never see her again. Another voice tells him he has a leak in his helmet, but that is not in his head. He's alive. He's hearing that voice. No. Not dead. Dying, maybe, with a fate worse than dead.
He is abandoned on Mars.
You wake in an empty bed yet again. It's been almost two years without Mark; all of this time, he's been in transit in the Hermes with his crew. It was almost straight out of Star Trek, that's what it was; a five year mission; two years there, a week to study, two years returning. Your friends had taken the opportunity of Mark being off planet to persist their ways for you to keep dating; every week you'd go to breakfast with one of them, and their old friend's cousin's nextdoor neighbor from 2009.
But today, when you wake in your empty bed, it feels even more so. There's a knock at the door, and too quickly, you sprint to it. Could it be a mailman? Your parents, another uninvited guest?
You open the door to a man in an all-black suit and paisley tie. He adjusts his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, you can see a bead of sweat drip from his dark hairline.
"Miss ______?" he smiles, and it's kind. "I'm Vincent Kapoor, I'm with NASA. We - is now a good time? I think you'll take this better if you're sitting."
Your face blanches. You've heard this speech so many times on TV, and never had you considered you being the receiver of such bad news.
"Oh no," you breathe.
Vincent licks his lips. "There will be a memorial, and you're invited to attend..."
Mark lies awake in the bunks. It's not a particular night or an anniversary or anything; it isn't Thanksgiving or Valentine's Day. It's just a night, and he's alone. Alone on Mars, alone without his ______ warming the other side of the bed, dreaming of him, reaching for him in the night to hold hands with. The Hab sways around him in the dull breeze of the Martian landscape, reminding him exactly how alone he is.
Slowly, in his sleeping bag, Mark puts his hands together, and interlocks his fingers.
There. It feels like you're there.
It's okay.
It needs to be okay, he reminds himself. I'm going to make it back to Earth. I'm going to survive Mars.
You're sitting in black when you get a phone call from the number from Mark's work, the one where Vincent had told you to call if you needed anything. You've just come back from a brunch where all of your friends had retracted their rude statements, praising your passed on boyfriend for traits they had demonised for all those years. Before thinking twice, though, you answer the call.
"This is _______," you say weakly.
"_______! This is Annie Montrose, head of PR for NASA. Vincent isn't here at the moment, he's at JPL - that's why I'm calling to give you the news." she chirps. Her voice is chipper, and you feel hollow. How can she feel so happy when you're all alone and left without a goodbye to your botanist-love?
"News?" you echo.
"Yes, news. Unfortunately, NASA has spoken too soon about Mark Watney, as he has survived the breach of his suit, and has proceeded to make move to make contact with us back on Earth." Her voice in your ear almost doesn't seem real. "I'm formally asking you to give your notice to your job for a undetermined amount of family emergency leave, care of NASA, and have you nearer to our headquarters for later contact with Mark."
You're breathless.
"He's - he's alive?" you whisper. "And I'm going to Washington?"
"Uh-huh, Mark's alive. I'm sorry, but I have a meeting I need to attend in five minutes, I'll e-mail everything to your account so you have details for travel and such. All on NASA's budget."
As soon as Pathfinder lights up, Mark's mind is avid, he finally feels something deep in his chest. Hope. He answers all of the scientists' questions; slowly, until he realises he can use a hexadecimal decryption with them, and then he asks.
Have you hold ______?
Their response is as fast as it can go, Y-E-S.
Mark goes to ask about the Hermes crew, but they start speaking about how to hook the rover up, and how much satellite time is left before tomorrow.
Days pass. Your job was more than happy - it was almost like they thought you were taking maternity leave or something. Not waiting for your off-planet boyfriend to be rescued and returned to you before he did something even more outlandish. They had made contact with the rover, and now Mark was travelling a long journey to the Ares 5 MAV for the next trip there. Every day you were down in the human resources lounge, trying your best not to be too frantic, being attended or dropped in on by the big names - Teddy Sanders, Vincent Kapoor, Mindy Park - like you were the second person they needed to monitor.
"Captain Blonde-beard," you muttered, shaking your head. That was your Mark alright.
Mindy Park laughed. "Yeah, he comes up with the weirdest things. The other day he was asking really philosophical questions at 3AM." she smiled into her latte, and modulated her voice to sound different, "How come Aquaman can control whales? Whales are mammals!"
He had promised to himself that he would get very scared when he started the ascent up to the Hermes crew. After all, he was going to be the fastest man travelling in space, in the history of space travel.
"Watney, here's the count-down..." Martinez began, and closing his eyes, Mark thought of something over than potatoes and the fact he could very well die in the process of this.
He thought of the one person who kept him going this whole time, the one who he dreamed of and wished he'd proposed before he went off. ______. You.
"And we have lift-off."
Two years later
You wait anxiously in line with the others. You met Mrs Vogel and her children, and Rick Martinez' wife and son, and Commander Lewis' husband who wore an ABBA shirt, and along with them, wait behind the quarantine line the astronauts have to pass through.
"Thank goodness for Rich Purnell," Mrs Vogel hummed to you in her German-lilted English. "He managed to make it all work."
You nod. "I still - I still can't believe he's alive."
A light flashes above, and the sound of Teddy Sander's voice over a PA booms, "Welcome home, Ares IV."
Out file the crew; first, Commander Lewis breaks a sprint to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then Vogel, who gathers all his children in his arms, then his wife. Little Beth Johansson makes her way to her parents, tugging Dr Beck along - and coming out before Martinez, your eyes widen.
"Mark!"