Sebastian Stan || One Shots

Prohibited | Chris Beck

I was asked by @caprogersfan to write a one-shot all about the amazing Chris Beck from The Martian. My search history is now full of very interesting astronaut related questions. And that's okay. Hope you enjoy!

*

"What do you miss the most?" He asks, sitting on one of the orange seats, arms stretched behind the back of the leather as he yawns.

"Bread." You say, lying on your side on the sofa across from him. His blue eyes are too far to see from here but there's a grey around his chin as he's due a shave. Stubble shadowing his jaw and making its way to his ears.

"You didn't even hesitate." Beck laughs.

"Oh, sorry." You rest your head in the palm of your hand now, lifting you up for a better view. "Wait, ask me again." 

"What do you miss the most?" He tilts his head, smiling.

"Um... that's tough. Bread." 

"Wow. You're not even considering friends and family, then? Just food."

"You didn't specify. Why, what do you miss?" You raise your brows at him, always enjoying these moments between you. No science, no space. Just words. Words you understood, too, none of his medical gibberish.

"Sex." 

"Wow. We are two very different people, Beck." You laugh but he still looks at you.

"Do you not miss it?"  

"I miss the intimacy, I suppose. But here I am, stuck with you."

"Hmm. Real shame. And no bread." It's him that laughs now, eyes moving between you and his hands as he brings them to his lap. 

"Don't remind me, it took me months to get used to. No crumbs and no cum. What a pair."

"What a pair." He turns his head towards the kitchen now, as if it's more interesting. "I know you miss it, by the way. I've heard you."

Your smile fades, looking at him with a stern squint. You can feel your cheeks warming.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is that so? It's a small ship, Y/N."

"Too small. So you're telling me you've not played with yourself?"

"Of course I have, but I'm not the one who said I miss bread. It's actually essential that I ejaculate in space, it prevents bacteria build-up and genitourinary infections. You, on the other hand, you have no reason to. Apart from pleasure. Which tells me, you miss it." And he looks so damn pleased with himself, the cleft in his chin almost disappears beneath the creases of a smile.

"You know, it's really hot when you talk science, Dr Beck." 

"Really?"

"No. Back to the rules then." He's looking at you again now, brows curling with intrigue. "I'm not allowed my bread, and you're not allowed sex. But we can masturbate, right?" 

"Technically, that's correct." 

"I mean, I could go." You say, watching him for his reaction. 

He gets embarrassed, obviously. Face scrunching as if he regrets the entire conversation. As if he didn't expect anything to come from it. He just wanted to talk. As you always did. About everything and anything. And sharing glances from across the room when others talked. And imagining each other's voices when you were alone. 

"What?" 

"Come on Beck. I know you want to."

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. He wears white to bed, which brings out the blue in his eyes. You can't really see it now, but it's not hard to imagine. Neat hair with some stray strands at his parting. That perfect cleft creasing again as he thinks.