Douglas decided to let a couple of weeks pass before inviting his captain over for dinner again. He had figured that the amount of time there would allow him to examine the admittedly odd blossoming of their relationship. Could he call it that yet? Perhaps, perhaps not. He was certainly courting the man, whether Martin noticed it or not. Still the younger pilot seemed appreciative of his politer comments, his slightly kinder jokes and teases. There was an endearing warmth and shyness to his smiles now, a touching way that Douglas would catch his eyes flicking towards him during their hours in the cock pit. But then, perhaps that had always been there, and he had just never cared to notice.
Needless to say, two weeks was not long enough for Douglas to sort through all these rather irksome details. Feelings. He had thought he was done with those after Helena. Still, Martin's company was pleasant and Douglas could explore if those 'feelings' were a one time deal or if they were perhaps even mutual over a rather lovely pan of lasagna. Yes. Good.
Douglas resumed his preparations, checking the pots cooking away at the stove and pulling out the large deep pan that would house the lovely layers as they baked. Martin should arrive in just under an hour. Excellent.
He switched off a few of the heating elements, and began preparing the dish carefully. First, the base, a rich tomato sauce with basil, oregano, and just a bit of garlic. It was positively thick with tender ground beef. Then, long tender sheets of lasagna plates. Next, a layer of thick creamy white sauce, a bit of ricotta. Another layer of pasta to follow. Then more of the sauce and meat, more pasta, and a layer of simple tomato sauce to top before covering it in a blanket of white mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. Then the masterpiece was set in the oven to bake and blend and melt. The smell was already enticing. He hoped it would be positively irresistible by the time Martin arrived.
Douglas set to setting the table, a little less formally than last time, he didn't want to scare his captain away or make their working situation awkward with overt romance. Though to be honest, neither of them were overly likely to get a job elsewhere just now. Douglas had just finished laying out the cutlery when the doorbell rang. He strolled over to answer it and smiled as he caught sight of a certain Captain Crieff on the other side.
"Evening, Martin, don't you look smart," said Douglas, noting appreciatively that Martin had seemed to take a bit of care in his appearance. His hair had been combed, almost wetted down a bit but now springing up in even larger ginger curls as it dried. A nice button up and dark jeans. Good shoes. Excellent. He might not be quite so far off as he had allowed.
"Oh um, thank you," said Martin, looking up at Douglas as though not quite sure if the other man were being honest or not. There was a slight coloring to his cheeks though, "Uh smells delicious," he added quickly as Douglas moved to let him step inside. Douglas took his coat and hung it on the rack behind the door before strolling casually back to the kitchen.
"Yes, it's a rather aromatic dish, lasagna," said Douglas smoothly, "Rather tickling for the taste buds as well if I've managed it alright." He bent to peer in the oven door as the clock pinged at him.
"Ah, Sir has perfect timing," said Douglas with a grin at Martin as he gathered his oven gloves to pull the food out. He set the heavy pan to cool on the stove, the sauce and cheese bubbling lightly around the corners. He glanced back to see Martin lick his lips and smiled softly to himself.
"But of course there's the matter of salad first," said Douglas, turning to the refrigerator and pulling out chilled glass bowl filled with the Ceasar variety, "The lasagna needs to cool after all, if we value our tongues at all."
Martin chuckled and surprised Douglas by adding, "Well you definitely value yours. If you couldn't talk you'd be in the ninth circle of hell."
"Quite close," said Douglas, before chuckling slightly and taking the salad to the table, "What will you be drinking tonight?"
"Oh, um, I actually- I brought- I mean, I know you don't drink. B-but I brought a wine. It's out in the van," said Martin, flushing crimson to his ears, "I brought it the first time, since you know, it's a courtesy thing to bring along a bottle the first time you visit someone's house but, well..."
"Perfectly alright, mon capitain," said Douglas easily to save the man more blustering, "I'm sure it will suit you very well with my lasagna. Go on and fetch it, I'll serve us." He smiled encouragingly at Martin and poured himself a tall glass of water and a smaller one for Martin.
"Right. Okay," said Martin, turning and looking relieved as he scampered back out to the hall and to his van.
Douglas served up two portions of the salad, a slightly more generous amount for Martin, and found a wine glass to set at the side of Martin's plate. The door swung open and Martin was back in, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand.
"Ah, a nice Chianti," drawled Douglas, glancing over as Martin set the wine on the table, "Am I to expect Hannibal Lector at this dinner of ours?"
"Not unless you need to tell me something about the lasagna," Martin quipped back, grinning and obviously a bit pleased with himself. My, my, he was witty tonight. Hopefully that meant he was feeling more at ease at Douglas's home now.
Douglas chuckled fondly and replied, "No, not as such. Here let me fetch you a bottle opener. I should still have one laying about here somewhere." He rummaged in a few drawers and found one, then handed it to Martin and watched as the other man struggled to get the cork out.
At last with a triumphant grunt, Martin managed to best the bottle and poured himself a glass before sitting down with a sigh.
"This looks excellent, Douglas," said Martin, taking a moment to admire the salad heaped on his plate before picking up his fork.
"Tastes even better," responded Douglas with a wink as he took a drink of his water. "Bon appetit, mon capitain." And with that his lifted his own fork and dipped into his portion. Crisp, and slightly bitter romaine crunched as it was speared on the fork, speckled with small shavings of parmesan cheese and wrapped in a creamy and tangy dressing. A bit of extra crunch was afforded by small croutons interspersed between the leaves. It did taste rather excellent, thought Douglas. He glanced over at Martin to see how he was getting on.
Martin looked to be in utter bliss as it happened, and Douglas couldn't help but grin slyly at that sight. The younger man speared bite after eager bite on his fork and raised it to his mouth, pushing past plump pink lips to deposit the food on his tongue. Douglas allowed himself to imagine it squirming slightly with delight at the flavors falling onto it as he watched Martin chew and then quickly swallow, the tip of his tongue flicking out to catch a bit of dressing or cheese that hadn't quite made it inside as his fork sought out the next bite.
In a matter of minutes, the plates were cleared, both men having eaten in silence from apparent enjoyment of their repast and sitting back with a contented air. Martin sipped at his wine, looking really quite relaxed now as his eyes trailed back to Douglas who couldn't really help but give him a small smile.
"So better than 'excellent?'" he quipped and Martin chuckled nodding.
"Ready for that lasagna?"
"Oh yes please," said Martin, sitting up eagerly and looking decidedly less dozy.
"Good Lord, did you even eat today?" asked Douglas chuckling as he pushed his chair back to stand.
Martin flushed slightly again. "I-I did. I mean. Yeah. It just smells amazing," he said, burying his face in his wine glass.
Douglas chuckled softly and patted Martin's shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad your excited for my quite a bit more than 'amazing' lasagna," he said, grinning and sweeping off to the kitchen to return with the hefty pan of layered pasta. Martin stood quickly to help clear a space for the pan and then sat down again as Douglas went to get the proper serving utensils. The captain was practically salivating already as tendrils of steam rose from the dish.
"Here we are," said Douglas, returning to the room and then cutting into the lasagna. He then carefully lifted a large portion onto Martins plate where the sauces ran out just a little and all the painstakingly laid layers were exposed. Douglas thought he might have heard a small groan issue from his captain.
He served himself quickly and smiled at Martin, lifting his own utensils as he said fondly, "Go on and tuck in. You look hungry."
"Hmm, I am," admitted Martin with a grin for Douglas before doing just that. Douglas watched as Martin took the first bite, reveling in the fact that the man's eyes actually fluttered closed as he chewed and tasted.
"God, Douglas," he breathed after swallowing, "Is there anything you can't do?"
"Very little," answered Douglas smugly before cutting into his own dinner and losing himself to the rich intermixing flavors.
They talked and joked as they ate, Martin's eyes becoming a little brighter, his cheeks a little rosier with the wine. Soon they were on to seconds, Douglas's portion quite modest, but looking positively miniscule compared to what Martin was loading onto his plate as he chatted about his most recent van job. Douglas felt his mouth grow rather dry, but tried not to stare in case it made Martin feel self conscious.
"This really is wonderful by the way," added Martin, interrupting his own story as he began plowing into his mound of lasagna, "Not just the food though. It's been ages since I've really gotten invited over anywhere." He smiled at Douglas then muffled a small burp. He excused himself and went back to feeding himself generous mouthfuls one after the other with little sign of slowing. God could that man eat... Hang on he should be saying something.
"It's my pleasure to have you over," said Douglas, smiling graciously and sipping at his water in an attempt to make himself relax a bit, "Always pleasant to be in good company." He toasted Martin with his glass before going back to nursing it slowly.
A small flush of color spread over Martin's cheeks again, but he didn't say anything for a bit. Not until he had cleared his plate again at least and leaned back with a soft sigh. Douglas had barely gotten to enjoy this sight before Martin spoke to him quite suddenly.
"You, er, you think I'm good company then?" he asked carefully, sitting up as best he could, which apparently wasn't very well as he reached down to discretely rearrange his waist band. "I thought you might get tired of my company since we spend so much time locked up in an aeroplane together already," he added quickly.
Douglas hesitated for a moment. It was still an innocent question really. When had it become this difficult to think? "Well, I do find I enjoy your company. I think it's natural that if I enjoy it for the variable amount of hours trapped in a flying metal tube in the sky, then I must enjoy it at sea level as well, don't you think?"
"Yes, I. I suppose so," said Martin, looking suddenly a little disappointed. Damn it. Perhaps in simpler terms.
"I enjoy spending time with you," amended Douglas, feeling suddenly that those words were a little too simple and direct as Martin looked up at him.
"Oh, uh-" said Martin again, shifting slightly in his seat whether from being uncomfortable from fullness or proximity to a potentially amorous first officer, he couldn't tell. Blue eyes flicked up to Douglas's brown ones again. He hoped that he was still treading the line of the platonic. Perhaps he'd just sown another hint at his true feelings. It was difficult to know if Martin even saw him as an option. Which he likely wasn't.
"I like spending time with you too," said Martin with a grin, "Flying and on the ground." He chuckled and Douglas joined in, feeling relieved.
"Good," said Douglas, standing again, "Now that those ooey gooey feeling are out of the way, shall I fetch dessert?"
Martin groaned slightly and looked down at his stomach.
"Dessert? God, I forgot about that," he said, dragging his hand absently over his middle.
"Just a bit of ice cream, I'm certain you can manage it," said Douglas with a smirk as Martin let his head fall back with another groan. He strolled out to the kitchen and dug out a tub of rich French vanilla ice cream. He then set about doling a few scoops into each bowl. A bit extra for Martin. He was being a generous host. Of course he was. Then he drizzled a bit of chocolate sauce over and dropped fresh raspberries into each bowl. The lot was topped with a dollop of whipped cream. Douglas grinned and went to take the dessert back to the dining table.
While Douglas was away, Martin took the opportunity to adjust his belt and let it out a couple of notches. He sighed with relief and allowed his stomach muscles to relax and sag. He trailed a few fingers over his stomach as he felt it pull lightly at his shirt, untucking it a bit further from his jeans. He felt quite extraordinarily well fed as he lay back lazily, one hand resting atop his rounded belly. It was wonderful. He snapped to attention however as Douglas returned and hauled himself up a bit straighter. He raised an eyebrow at the bowl set before him.
"A little bit of ice cream?" he said, regarding the beautifully decorated portion set in front of him and then looking up at Douglas.
"Yes," said Douglas, managing to sound innocent for once, "I just thought if I were to offer it should be done well." He sat down in his chair and picked up his spoon, feeling quite full and satisfied himself, though nowhere near to Martin's extent, he imagined.
Martin chuckled and picked up his own spoon.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he said good-naturedly, and dipped into his bowl. He didn't have to finish it after all. Except that well... He rather wanted... But Martin felt his thoughts pull away from that entirely as the first mouthful of ice cream, chocolate, cream and raspberry hit his taste buds, filled his mouth, and slid down his throat. A slight twinge of pain in his stomach was the only protestation offered. So Martin dug in again and again, feeling the shock of the chilled ice cream hit his mouth, freeze his tongue, before melting and sliding down the back of his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten ice cream. His stomach gurgled at him and felt tight against his waist band, but he paid it no mind.
Douglas was quite quickly forgetting his ice cream as Martin ate his. If you could call it eating. Those noises definitely weren't usually involved in eating. They were giving Douglas very different ideas. The slurps, the purrs, the low groans now and again. Was that a whimper? Douglas swallowed hard.
At last, Martin's spoon was collecting only a swirly mess of chocolate sauce and melted ice cream and he set his spoon aside. He couldn't quite stop the burp that worked it's way up his throat.
"Mmph, sorry. Pardon me," he breathed before falling back with a groan, his hands moving cautiously to his middle, "Oh, God, I'm full. That was really, hmmurp, really good, Douglas, thank you." He looked over at his first officer dozily and smiled slightly.
"Glad you enjoyed yourself," said Douglas his tone far too dark and low to sound normal. He felt as if he were ready to combust, but Martin seemed far too dazed by the food stuffed in his belly to notice much. He ached to touch, but first to see. To actually witness what was making Martin emit those delicious little noises.
"Shall we relocate to the sofa?" asked Douglas, and he was relieved to hear his usual nonchalance returning to his tone, "We can see if there's something on the telly or watch a DVD."
"Yeah, that would be nice," agreed Martin, eyes still closed, but slowly opening again as he chuckled, "You might have to help me up though. Fwooh. I'm stuffed."
Douglas bit the inside of his cheek. Really. Did he have to say that? But he managed to brush it off before his arousal would become a very visible problem. He was nothing if not a gracious host however and walked over to offer Martin a hand. He managed to turn his heated gaze into an amused chuckle as he helped pull a groaning Martin to his feet. The younger man hissed as his middle was made to bend, but then stood quite comfortably. He poked absently at his belly, which was just visible as a sweet little curve filling out his shirt a bit more than when he arrived and pushing the waist band of his jeans down.
"I really should learn not to gorge myself whenever you invite me over for dinner," said Martin with a chuckle as he made his way to the sofa, "I'll have to buy new trousers soon." He grunted as he flopped down on the sofa, sliding down and resting his legs on the foot rest in front of it. "You need to stop being such a good cook," he told Douglas as the other man sat down against the other armrest.
"Not intending to," Douglas shot back with a cheeky grin, "Better get some shopping done before your next visit then." He dared to reach over and give Martin's belly a pat before reaching for the remote and beginning the hunt for a decent channel.
Martin had flushed at that, but Douglas's tone hadn't been disgusted. Just teasing. Well not even really teasing. Just kind and warm. He looked over at the other man, and rested his hands on his stomach as Douglas channel searched, deep in thought.
"Alright, Martin?" asked Douglas, noticing that his captain had become rather quiet.
"Hm? Oh, yeah fine, just full," said Martin, grinning and wriggling further into the couch as best he could. Douglas smiled and settled back as well, having found a movie he thought they might both enjoy. They lapsed into silence as they watched, Martin's fingers drumming absently on his middle, Douglas's itching to be there in their stead. They'd laugh or comment once in a while, sharing a glance and a grin. But neither man noticed how the one's would linger when the other turned away.