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Here For You >> Mark Watney X Male!Reader

Title: Here For You

Paring: Mark Watney X Male Reader

Warning: stranded in space, men in love, set in the future because it is, fluff.

Spoilers:  go read The Martian and then we'll be set.

Requested By: LordImpossible

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When Mark's communication line cuts out, you make a break for it. It isn't exactly the smartest thing you've done on a foreign planet, but when you can no longer hear Mark's voice, it's like it's the end. Commander Lewis clamours for you over the link, but you dash after where you saw him last – it's Mars, for goodness sakes, not the high seas, and once one goes missing, it isn't every man for themselves. You're there for Mark. You're always there for Mark.

College was a time where ends barely met, but it still was a wonderful time. Overpriced textbooks, global warming, weird politicians pandering to you for a vote, sexual experimentation, liberation, and all that. It was when you ran into Mark Watney, biology major in the hallway of the dorms and fell completely in love with him. And in the other sense, with both of you upon the floor.

"Hey, sorry, man," you gushed, your armful of old comic books spewed across the mildewy carpet. "I wasn't looking – I mean –,"

His eyes widened. "Are those Aquaman comics?" He asked, incredulous. "Dude, don't worry about the trip, can I read some with you? Those are super awesome!"

You both became inseparable after that.

You drag the other man into the HAB, knowing full-well that the foreign object impaled into him is either going to kill him quickly with a suit breach, or slowly via infection and blood loss. When you're inside, you do all you can to not freak out – you're struck with an odd truth. The other crew members of the Ares III flight have left the planet without you two. You, and Mark Watney, are stranded. But shaking that horrid thought from the forefront of your mind, you set on extracting Mark from his suit, and using what little medical training you must save the guy.

He wakes halfway through the procedure.

"Wh-wha- aaah! Ow!" He groans, in a terrible agony.

You pass him two pills, and a vial of water. "Drink this. I'm nearly done."

Mark all but swallows the meds dry to get over the pain and does his best not to complain about your terrible tourniquet and even worse way to close off the surface area of the wound. There was no way you'd use the stapler to close it, you weren't a barbarian – you found Dr Beck's abandoned med kit, and applied butterfly stitches.

"Now are you done?" Mark moans.

You harrumph. "Yeah, you'll live." You regret those words as soon as they leave your lips; because it's exactly those three words that remind you of the situation you and Mark are in for, for however long it takes for rescue.