Hello all! Here is the fic depicting Deborah's future, as promised. Hopefully I'll be alternating between this and the other fic, but it really depends on what mood I'm in.
Chapter One
Maybe she wasn't qualified to judge, or perhaps she was simply too close to the flames to make a proper decision, but for once in her life, everything seemed to be going extraordinarily well for Deborah Richardson.
For the first time in her life she had, simultaneously, a job that paid reasonably well and wasn't under threat of bankruptcy each day, a roof over her head, a daughter who though far away could come and go as she pleased and often did, and most spectacularly, Martin Crieff sharing her bed, and her life, every day.
Deborah allowed herself the indulgence of a small smile as she flicked the dishwater from her hands, careful not to splash bubbles on her uniform sleeves, and turned to survey the sitting room; Martin was sitting on the sofa, hunched forwards as he typed intermittently at his laptop which rested on the coffee table, looking somewhat like a secretive little crab as the morning sun filtered through the window and lit up the red in his hair.
Deciding that he would appreciate just a few moments more peace before she disturbed him, Deborah wandered from the kitchen and through the sitting room, brushing her hand over Martin's shoulders on her way to the door; he shifted and flexed, but otherwise didn't react beyond a pleasured hum as she crossed to the door and plucked the pile of letters from the floor.
If someone had asked her…not even the seven years ago in which they had first met, but a simple two years ago, even when they had been first exploring their relationship, Deborah couldn't have begun to imagine that they would live like this; she loved Martin with all of her heart, and there was no longer any doubt that that he loved her, but the idea of them shifting from two people into something resembling and household…that was remarkable.
And yet there they were, Deborah mused, as flicked through the letters, abandoning all but the one that caught her eye, and crossed the room to drop down beside him. It wasn't like anything else Deborah had ever experienced, and for once, she could honestly say that she was truly, and completely happy.
Yes, they bickered, almost all the time; that was just how they functioned. That didn't mean that living with Martin, existing with Martin, wasn't beautiful. Deborah's previous attempts at settling down had been lacklustre at best, and there had always been something wrong, or an inkling that someone was trying too hard, or not hard enough. They had set roles, and neither party had been good at fulfilling them.
The same couldn't be said now; Deborah was sure, with an aching, harrowing certainty, that what she and Martin had was for good. It was like devoting your life to your best friend, and to the love of your life, and yet, nothing like either; it was just a feeling, in the pit of her lungs through to the tip of her toes as they curled in anticipation, that whispered and screamed that this man was as much a component of her world as the heart pumping blood through her veins was, and Deborah honestly couldn't remember how she had existed without Martin's presence.
"Are you still doing that?" Deborah inquired, as she sat forwards, propping herself up on her elbows and shifting close enough that their knees pressed together; she watched the little tables open and close on the computer screen, and although she appreciated what he was doing, couldn't help but feel that familiar flutter of despair, "Martin, you were the one telling me to get out of bed and be ready to leave."
"I know, I know." Martin replied quickly, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, his fingers never stopping as they danced jerkily across the keyboard; he spared Deborah a fleeting smile at best, but it was warm and affectionate, so she had no complaints, "But, we're going on a long trip, far away, where there won't be any way for me to do this, so I want to have it all ready for when we start paying for things."
"I think you're just being stubborn." Deborah remarked fondly, dropping one hand down to trace the tips of her fingers over and around Martin's knee; it was true that they had been trying to sort out joint bank accounts for months, and it was exciting, but he was cutting it rather fine considering how early they were expected at the airfield.
"Why would I be being stubborn?" Martin retorted, snorting slightly, but carrying on as he had been, even as Deborah slid a little closer and curled her hands around his arm, so that she could rest her chin on his shoulder.
"Why would you be being stubborn?" Deborah repeated dryly, smirking and quirking an eyebrow at him, "Oh, let me think…hmmm…could it be that you've been perfecting this since last night, and your last words to me before I went to bed were, 'Don't worry Dear, I'll have this up and running before the sun'."
"Of course I'm perfecting it." Martin agreed, his cheeks flushing scarlet nonetheless as he very deliberately didn't take his eyes from the computer screen; he was always so lovely to tease, even now that he should have learnt how to handle it, "I'm a perfectionist."
"I know, and I love that about you." Deborah drawled, smiling warmly as she tipped her head forwards and pressed a kiss to Martin's shoulder, snuggling closer despite her earlier remark; it was no concern of hers if they were late, "When you moved in it was like gaining a cleaning fairy; I actually know where all my things are now."
"Well, if you're so enamoured with my organisational skills, maybe I should start offering Maid services." Martin said, in that jaunty tone of voice that accompanied his badly executed jokes; he smiled brightly, self-satisfied, and turned his head to meet her gaze, his wrist doing a little flourish as he tapped, "Maids get paid much more than ten pounds an hour."
"From Van Man to Maid." Deborah mused aloud, pursing her lips and making a show of staring into the middle-distance; then she smirked, and gave Martin's arm a little squeeze, taking care to run her palms over the subtle, but definite muscles that he had built up shifting furniture for over a decade, "No, I'd miss these…"
"Muscle mass over money." Martin remarked sagely, fixing his attention back on the banking site that he was carefully navigating; he could pretend all he liked, Deborah knew that he knew she adored his physique, and exactly how proud he was of that fact, "It's nice to know one of us has our priorities straight."
"But how would I cope if you stopped being strong enough to pick me and throw me down on the bed?" Deborah asked airily, playing up her shocked despair and blinking up at Martin from where she rested on his shoulder, chin pressed to the smooth yet scratchy material of his jacket.
"Well, I…I-uh…ahem…" Martin began to reply wickedly, then he blushed and his eyes ducked down from where they had lingered on Deborah's lips; before she could tease him, or play along, he glanced back to the computer screen and let out a triumphant exclamation, rapping his hands on the keyboard, "Ah, there we go! I told you I could do it."
"I never doubted your abilities for a second." Deborah replied, peering over his shoulder at the odd assortment of coloured boxes and words; there was a reason that he was doing this and not her.
"Of course you didn't." Martin murmured, as he sat back and folded his arms together, leaning just so into Deborah's side and smiling down at her, the pride evident in the cheerful glow that emanated from his pores.
"So what have you actually done?" Deborah asked, aiming for nonchalance; if nothing else, Martin would enjoy getting to explain his processes to her, even if he did assume that she was only teasing or pretending not to know. In truth, he could have done anything, and was likely to have done lots of things that weren't strictly related to joining their accounts, just because he thought it was a good idea.
"Oh, it's quite simple actually." Martin explained eagerly, leaning forwards again to tap at the screen, and then pull it into his lap when Deborah didn't come closer to inspect his actions, "I've left our personal savings accounts separate-"
"Why?" Deborah inquired, narrowing her eyes at him; they had had discussions about this many a time in the last few weeks, and yet no shred of guilt or sheepishness crossed Martin's face.
"Because they're ours, and that way our personal money, a-and anything we might get gifted by family, o-or whatever…that's all separate." Martin informed her, biting down on his bottom lip as he took his eyes from hers and looked pointedly down at the screen, scrolling aimlessly down the page.
"It doesn't need to be." Deborah replied tersely, though she did settle back into the sofa when she realised that her shoulders had tensed, and her hands and stiffened around his arm, "I did tell you that I don't mind sharing with you;I meant everything."
"I know you did, but, you're just going to have to let this lie." Martin said imploringly, turning his head to gaze at her with his big blue eyes; he already knew that this was a debate that he was going to win, "Please, for my own peace of mind."
"Oh fine." Deborah sighed, conceding to rest her cheek on Martin's shoulder once more; it wasn't as if it were a big problem, or one that she particularly wanted to fight over; if Martin was happy, then she'd put up with his odd quirks, "You're turning me into a pushover."
"You wouldn't be saying that if you were in my shoes, believe me." Martin remarked sarcastically, and then took one look at Deborah's quirked eyebrow, and his eyes widened as he hastily returned to explaining what he had done, "Right, uh…this, this here is our joint account; basically that's where all our wages and other income goes, and then that's what we pay the bills from."
"Excellent, that's exactly what I asked for." Deborah exclaimed, smiling wanly as she peered at the digits and the details being presented to her, giving Martin's arm a faint squeeze, "Well done."
"I am capable of following basic requests." Martin retorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he pouted at her; his indignation wasn't heated, but Deborah found that it still instilled a pleasant fluttering in her chest, even after so much time.
"Oh really?" Deborah drawled, shucking her knees up to rest against his thighs as she curled into Martin's side and batted her eyelashes at him, "It's funny, I must have been living with someone else for the last nine months."
"Yes, that's very funny." Martin acknowledge wryly, but he smiled wanly and tipped his head down to press his lips to hers nonetheless; he looked thoughtful for a moment, then he lifted his laptop in one hand and waved it slightly before placing it carefully on the coffee table, "I'm still not sure about this, I-I mean-"
"Martin, it makes sense." Deborah assured him, taking care to be patient, and to actually listen to what he was trying to say without giving him enough rope that he could hang himself, "Carolyn is paying us a joint wage, which is now fifty per cent larger than my original one-"
"Only because we still can't afford to pay me a full wage." Martin muttered, huffing through his nose and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table before thinking better of it and bringing them down to the carpet with a thud, "This is just her way of sweetening the deal."
"I know it is, but it's better than nothing." Deborah soothed him, pursing her lips as she stroked a hand from his shoulder to his wrist, cuddling close enough to rest her forehead against his cheek, and then pull back to examine his expression; to say that she was disappointed would have been an understatement, "What's that face for?"
"Nothing." Martin replied shortly, his petulant frown and the way that his eyes darted from side to side betraying the truth, even before he huffed and threw his hands into the air, "I-I just thought that, after the first load of new clients, and the influx of more money, and not being bankrupt anymore, that we'd keep rising – but we're not!"
"Martin, if you had been there right at the start of MJN like I was, you'd know just how far we've actually come." Deborah reasoned, meeting and holding his gaze; it was true, things hadn't gotten as good as they had hoped, but compared to where Deborah had thought that MJN was going, what they had was a miracle, "The fact that we're making a profit, and a large, steady, one at that, is remarkable."
"We could get better." Martin insisted, the hope almost a tangible glitter in his eyes; that only made Deborah's heart ache to make things right for him, even though she for once had no way to do so.
"No we couldn't." Deborah replied softly, but firmly, as she leaned into Martin's side, "MJN may be able to survive, just about, but we're never going to earn much more than we do now, we're never going to get more popularity, and we're never going to expand."
"But-" Martin barely got the syllable out before he was cut off.
"There are no buts Martin." Deborah said, looking imploringly into his eyes, raising one hand into the air between them in the hope that it would keep him from arguing, "We're doing well just by existing in a state that isn't on the verge of collapse; we may be able to afford to fix GERTI when she breaks, but we'll never be able to afford any friends for her."
"I know that." Martin conceded glumly, slouching back into the cushions and pushing a hand through his carefully combed hair, before he started picking at his epaulets, "It's just – sometimes I wonder, what was even the point in saving it all if we're never going to grow big."
"So that's what's been keeping you up at night." Deborah muttered, rolling her eyes, and reaching out to brush the backs of her fingers through his now messy fringe; for weeks now she would wake in the middle of the night, and although Martin wouldn't be tossing and turning, he would be laid out on his back, exactly where he had been when she had curled herself around him, without saying a word, but obviously deep in thought.
For someone who usually slept like a log and needed klaxons to rouse him from his slumber, that was worrying; but Deborah had chosen not to bother him about it, as Martin was the sort of man that liked to work through his problems on his own.
"How do you know about that?" Martin demanded, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline as his cheeks flushed and brought out the sharpness of his freckles.
"You play with my hair when you're moping." Deborah informed him wryly, dropping a hand down to rest on his knee and squeeze comfortingly, "It's a bit hard to sleep when you're stroking me."
"Sorry." Martin let out a sort of truncated chuckle, and blushed all the more, even as Deborah shook her head and smiled, pecking at the corner of his lips; that didn't keep him occupied for long, the eternal worrier that he was, "It just…seems a bit…"
"We did well Martin." Deborah interrupted sternly, unwilling to allow him to delve into the angst ridden pit that was simmering under the surface of his mind, "I know that you're going to gloat terribly now, but you really did a fantastic job…none of this would have been here now if it weren't for you."
"What was it all for?" Martin groaned, shaking his head as if the world rested on his shoulders and he was trying not to let it topple with the movement, as he gazed despairingly into Deborah's eyes; he was beautiful when his face was so open, free of stubborn lines or a scowl, but there wasn't time to focus on how nice his unwavering trust in her was.
"So that we could live the lives we want to." Deborah explained, and then sighed; she shifted so that her legs were tucked beneath her, and dropped her hands to take Martin's and intertwine them, "Martin, saving MJN may not have shot her to loftier heights, but it means that when we want to step away and move on collectively, we can, and gracefully. As it was before, everything was just crumbling into a messy, debt-ridden heap."
"I suppose…" Martin agreed after a moment of thought that Deborah was sure was just him stubbornly deciding to agree with her for the sake of peace, going by the crinkle at the bridge of his nose; without another word, he turned his wrist to check his watch, and glanced over his shoulder towards the door, "Are we going then?"
"Not yet." Deborah replied, and powered by a reignited surge of excitement, she dropped his hands and reached behind her for the letter that she had dropped on the cushions, holding it out for him to take, "I have something to show you."
"What? What is it?" Martin asked as he took the letter, peering at her in confusion as he turned it over in his hands; it was just a bank statement, probably a response to all of their changes, but when his eyes fell on his name and address, Martin's expression lit up, and his lips began to curl upwards into his cheeks, "Oh! That came here?"
"Yes, Captain." Deborah answered, unable to keep the smile from her face as Martin didn't even bother to tear open the envelope, but simply sat forwards on the cushions, perched on the end of the sofa as if to leap up. For the last nine months all of his post had been forwarded from his old home, passed on by helpful students that had printed his new address over his old one.
"And it wasn't forwarded from Parkside?" Martin checked, holding the letter tight enough in both hands that it crumpled slightly as he gestured with it towards her.
"No." Deborah replied warmly; this was an important moment for him, as ridiculous as it sounded, and perhaps teasing was something that could wait until later, "Straight here."
"That is…" Martin seemed to watch the letter in awe, as if he were thrumming with some power that it possessed; then he really did leap to his feet, and made a joyous little hop of triumph as he spun on his heels to face Deborah and exult at her, "Yes! They know I live here!"
"It's only the bank Martin." Deborah remarked slowly, quirking an eyebrow at him as she rearranged herself, swinging her legs back onto the floor and sitting forwards, ready to follow him when he inevitably sprinted away.
"But they're acknowledging that we live together!" Martin emphasised, his grin so wide that his flushed cheeks faded somewhat into the background of his face, "The bank sent a letter, to this address! That means I officially live here!"
"You've lived here for nine months." Deborah reminded him drolly, as she watched him straighten up and start tearing into the envelope, pulling out the wad of documents that he was bound to try and read before they left the flat.
"Not according to the bank, or the council, or my sister…" Martin muttered, rolling his eyes as his eyes scanned back and forth, and he began to pace around the coffee table.
"Alright Darling," Deborah groaned, as she hoisted herself to her feet and followed his tracks until she could place her hands on Martin's waist and direct him towards the front door, "you can relish the thoughtfulness of Barclays for checking your personal details in the car."
oOoOoOo
Carolyn's wrath at them being an hour late for work was tempered somewhat by the fact that she was still feeling queasy from a week of bed-rest and sickness, and the mountain of paperwork that neither Martin nor Deborah had really felt in a position to complete without their CEO.
In light of that, they had decided to simply get on with the preparations for today's flight without complaint, which was how Deborah found herself wandering up to the Tower to find Karl and file the flight-plan, before making her lazy way back to the porta-cabin. The lads were sorting out the actual plane preparations, or so she had thought; when she actually entered the porta-cabin, it was to find Carolyn sitting behind her desk (not shunning their company as she had threatened to do), and Arthur lounging on the sofa, feet up, and no Martin in sight.
"Is the cargo all packed?" Deborah inquired as she came to lean back against Martin's desk, propping herself up with her arms outstretched behind her.
"Yep, I got it all in, even though Mum said that I wouldn't be able to." Arthur replied proudly, kicking his feet down and leaning forwards with his arms rested on his knees as he engaged her, and answered the unasked question, "Skip's just checking something he saw on the load-sheet."
"I'm sure he is." Deborah drawled, bringing a hand forwards to inspect her nails; along with his renewed vigour devoted to resurrecting MJN, Martin had also become extremely hands-on when it came to making sure that everything was perfect before each flight, taking the title of Captain to heart in a way he hadn't before, if such a thing was possible, "I saw quite a lot of boxes; who is it we're flying for?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he might be a zoo keeper." Arthur informed her, with the pinched anticipation of a highly dubious yet thrilled spaniel; Deborah raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side, glancing towards Carolyn, who had apparently been listening the whole time.
"I didn't ask too many questions," Carolyn explained curtly, as she continued to scratch away at the paperwork spread out around her, "Lord knows I didn't want to talk to the overly excitable American who was rude enough to mention that he would be taking Easyjet back to Brazil while we carry his things."
"Of course not, because that would be the height of stooping to talk to such a scoundrel." Deborah remarked, nodding sagely before turning her attention back to Arthur, "What makes you think he's a zookeeper, Arthur?"
"Oh, just the boxes that he left for us to fly." Arthur explained unhelpfully, shrugging as if it were no matter; he could be wrong of course, knowing his particular skills of deduction, but that didn't stop the tremor of trepidation from prickling in Deborah's guts, "They're brilliant."
"I bet they are." Deborah drawled wryly, giving Arthur one last smile before plucking one of her pens from the desk and tapping the page that Carolyn was currently working on, "You're not joining us then? I would have thought you'd have loved a weekend away after spending all week stuck indoors with the flu."
"Stuck indoors with Herc more like." Carolyn scoffed, shaking her head disdainfully at the very idea, even though Deborah knew that she was relishing every moment that Herc got to spend away from Switzerland nowadays, "Flu, I can handle with my teeth bared; Herc on the other hand is even more of a hindrance when he thinks he's being helpful than Arthur is."
"How romantic." Deborah remarked, choosing to let the matter lie; she cared enough, loathe as she was to admit it, not to linger on the fact that Carolyn had managed in typical fashion to come down with a horrible illness in the very same week that Herc was returning to England for the first time in three months.
"It was." Arthur exclaimed, lumbering on after the uptake as usual, oblivious to Carolyn's sharp glare, from across the room, "He stayed all week and tried to get Mum to drink medicinal soup; it was very brave."
"Quite." Carolyn acknowledged reluctantly, refusing to look up as Deborah smirked at her from across the desks, "Nevertheless, I have no desire to move from one humid and horrible location to another, so I'm staying here."
"Never mind." Deborah sighed dramatically, pushing away from the desks to tread sluggishly towards the sofa, "We'll have fun, just the three of us, won't we Arthur?"
"Yeah." Arthur agreed confidently, rising to his feet at the sign of a single hand gesture, "I've been practicing that game you told me about, and I'm almost sure that I could beat Martin if I put my mind to it."
"If you don't leave this room right now and get on the plane, you won't be doing anything, because I will have strung you up and left you outside for the crows to devour." Carolyn announced, raising her voice as her voice petered off with the residual strain of illness; her glare wasn't even slightly hindered.
"Aw…it was things like this that persuaded me to work for you in the first place. Such happy memories." Deborah drawled, placing a hand over her chest even as she strode towards the door, and held it open, letting the early morning breeze clip at her heels, "Come on Arthur."
oOoOoOo
When the two of them came to walk around GERTI, who was now shining with a newish lick of paint and glinting in the sun, Arthur built up a sort of background hum as he talked about something or other that Deborah wasn't really listening to; she was more interested in glancing at the Hold, which was still wide open, though the insides were dark and invisible in the blinding sun. Martin should have been done by now; she supposed that he was just being particularly picky this morning.
Nevertheless, Deborah made sure that she and Arthur walked as near to the Hold as they could when passing, which turned out to be a good thing; as they momentarily blocked out the light, they must have alerted Martin to their presence, as his voice rang out, loud and echoing from within.
"Debs! De-Debbie- Deborah!"
She didn't respond at first, still unused to turning her head at anything other than her full name (and even that when the mood was right), so she was completely out of sight of the Hold before she came to a stop, and turned, waiting for Martin to appear, though he didn't.
Deborah felt herself smile slightly as Martin's voice registered finally in her head; there had always been something about their relationship that…she couldn't even put her finger on it, but in the last few months, it felt like whatever it was had vanished, and any barriers, or semblances of formalities were gone along with it.
Martin was still insistent that he called her by her full name, and didn't seem keen on shortening it (Deborah was sure that it was a lingering jealously, as he knew that in recent years, only her exes had been on such good terms with her). Yet, about two months ago, he had started; Deborah had been surprised when the first 'Debs' or 'Debbie' had slipped out, to the point that it didn't even cross her radar; she simply didn't respond to it.
And Martin was always quick to correct himself; but he couldn't seem to help it. It slipped out as comfortably and thoughtlessly as 'dear', or 'darling', which led Deborah to believe that even though Martin was trying with all his might not to shorten her name, she was too endearing for him to do anything else. She still wasn't sure whether she liked it, but the fact that his barriers had fallen to such an extent was…thrilling…she loved him so much.
"Yes Darling?" Deborah called into the Hold; when no answer came, she turned to Arthur and lay a hand on his arm, nudging him towards the metal stairs, "Go on ahead and make sure the Cabin's cross checked."
"Right-o." Arthur replied cheerfully, and obediently disappeared from her side; his feet on the steps could be heard clunking even as Deborah turned her back on him and ducked into the sparsely lit Hold.
It was hard to see, but Deborah could understand what Arthur had meant when he had said that there were a lot of boxes; crates and steel containers were piled to the ceiling, and filled enough space that she had to tread quite far inside before her eyes fell on Martin, rocking on his heels as he surveyed the cargo, a clipboard and pen in his hands.
"Deborah." Martin greeted her when she moved to his side, smiling down at her indulgently as if he had forgotten why he had called her in the first place; Deborah laced her arm through his and curled her hand around his elbow, enjoying the closeness, but didn't cease from glancing around to find the source of his discontent, as there had to be one, "There you are."
"Here I am." Deborah repeated fondly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze, and take in the affectionate glint in his eyes; anyone would think that she never did as she was asked.
"Yes, hello." Martin replied warmly, still gazing down at her; then he seemed to snap back into awareness, and was business-like once more, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders back, "Come look at the cargo."
"Is it not stacked to your liking, Captain, or are you having trouble with your sums?" Deborah inquired daintily, nudging him gently in the side as she turned to do as she was asked, and ran her eyes over the hefty crates; as expected, nothing had changed in the last two minutes.
"As if you'd be any help with the calculations." Martin snorted, his chest rumbling with restrained chuckles as Deborah let out an insulted little huff, and slipped her arm from his, winding both of hers instead around her chest.
"Excuse me." Deborah said curtly; she gave Martin a moment to feel suitably sheepish, before she turned back to him and nodded towards the crates, "Right, I'm looking at the cargo Martin, and I'm not seeing anything wrong with it."
"That's because it's dark, and Arthur's stacked the wooden boxes in front of the glass boxes." Martin explained matter-of-factly; despite the pointed glare that she was sending his way, he still reached around her carefully held arms to take her hand in his, which was enough to make her begin to forgive his attempt at teasing her, "Come round here, you can see better."
Deborah allowed Martin to lead her around the corner that had been created by Arthur's eclectic stacking, to where, just as he had promised, there sat a row of lowly piled boxes that appeared to be made of reinforced glass. It was too dark to properly see what was inside of them, so Deborah released Martin's hand and stepped closer, bending down to peer inside, as she felt Martin do the same at her side.
"Oh…what are…" Deborah murmured, as she caught a flicker of movement inside the box nearest to her; the sun must have shifted outside, as a moment later a thin branch of light filtered over the top of the crates, and allowed her such a view, that she might actually have leapt back, placing her hands out in front of her like a useless barrier, "Oh, no, Martin! You know I don't like creepy crawlies!"
The sight of the various, and many, creatures housed within the glass cases made Deborah's stomach churn, and her bones themselves seemed almost as if they might freeze into stone and then retract if she moved any closer. From top to bottom of the pile, she couldn't identify all of them, but Deborah could pick out at least four types of lizards, hundreds of winged creatures all bunking together, all manner of disgusting things like spiders that could eat her palm and scorpions, and then some other things that…she didn't even want to imagine.
"I'm not asking you to touch them," Martin remarked, placing a hand on her back; it was supposed to be comforting, but Deborah just wriggled as it felt like he was pushing her towards the creatures, "I'm just asking you to look at them."
"Looking at them is making me feel as if I'm touching them." Deborah retorted petulantly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to alleviate the phantom itching that had started up beneath her skin.
"It's not that bad." Martin snorted, and he stepped past her to stand beside the glass cages and tap at the glass, flinching when the animals touched the other side, but not moving away as he glanced back at Deborah, so obviously showing off.
"It is." Deborah replied, but something about seeing Martin overcome his fears steeled her nerves; she came to stand at his side, and let him cover her hand with his, and bring it up to tap at the glass of various cages, like one would with a small child and hot things, "Well…I suppose the lizards aren't too bad…and the butterflies are alright…" she pulled away as Martin tried to tap the box containing the scorpions, "I don't like these shifty looking characters."
"Why are there so many of them?" Martin inquired, going so far as to lean over the boxes to try and get a closer look, his face scrunching adorably as he did so.
"Arthur thinks our client's a zookeeper." Deborah answered thoughtfully, though she came no closer, content to let Martin explore; perhaps this once, Arthur was right in his suspicions, "I wouldn't be surprised if he needed this many for some sort of research, or breeding programme."
"Lovely…" Martin remarked, in a tone of voice that acknowledged that it was anything but; he stood straight once again, and retreated to a safe distance, using the hand not occupied by a clipboard to flatten the lapels of his jacket, "but that's not why I asked you to come in here."
"Yes, I was wondering why you asked me in here knowing full well that I wouldn't like it." Deborah drawled restrainedly, keeping one eye on the animals, which were now flustering about as if they knew they were being disturbed, and one eye on Martin.
"We need to move the animals inside the Cabin." Martin declared, in the no nonsense voice he used when he knew that Deborah was going to argue; his lips were pressed together, and in another world, he could have been balancing a lemon on his nose for how prim his expression was.
"No." Deborah replied shortly; there was no chance that she was allowing that to happen.
"Not no," Martin shot back, shaking his head and visibly fighting a smile at her expense, as if he were enjoying her discomfort, "because these are really delicate, and we need to strap them into the seats in the Cabin where Arthur can keep an eye on them, and not leave them in the Hold where they might get smashed and die."
"Still no." Deborah refused to budge on the matter; she folded her arms even more tightly over her chest as Martin tried to placate her by placing gentle hands on her elbows, "I don't want these inside the plane."
"Yes, well, that may be, but I'm the Captain," Martin said smugly, smirking as Deborah narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips, "and I'm having Arthur move these in the Cabin, whether you like it or not."
"I'm your girlfriend, and I can refuse to let you sleep in my bed tonight." Deborah retorted salaciously, cocking her head to the side; that normally worked, she was sure that it would this time.
"Brazil's a hot country." Martin remarked brightly, proudly, completely unaffected by her threat as he tapped his clipboard lightly against her nose, "That might not be a bad thing."
"Fine." Deborah gritted out, squaring her jaw and stubbornly glaring him down; if she wasn't going to win this, then there was no point fighting at all, or helping for that matter, "But I'm going to wait in the flight-deck-"
"Hide in the flight-deck." Martin sniped playfully, as he turned away from her to return to his inspection of the cargo.
"Wait in the flight-deck," Deborah repeated, just a little louder and more clearly, as she glared at Martin's back, "and get GERTI ready to go."
"Alright." Martin replied cheerfully, shooting her a pleasant smile over his shoulder, too full of himself to be anything other than a highly charged smirk, "Send Arthur out when you pass him."
oOoOoOo
The flight-deck was humming, the engines were whirring calmly and waiting for a change to do their stuff; Deborah might have been against Martin and Arthur strapping the glass boxes to the passenger seats, but she had accepted that it was probably the most sensible idea, and it would keep Arthur occupied for most of the flight.
"Pre-take off checks complete?" Martin inquired professionally, glancing across the gap between them as he reached above his head and flicked a switch, pausing when he had done this to wait for her response.
"Complete, and waving us goodbye as we prepare in turn to bid them adieu." Deborah replied, turning her head as she leant back against the hard padding of her seat to share a warm smile with her Captain; she was beginning to forgive him already, no matter what she had said before, unable to shake the tingling heat that wafted around her lungs just from the thought of him.
"Thank you, dear." Martin hummed and grinned at her, and just like that she didn't even need to forgive him anymore; he leaned forwards to hold down the intercom button, the smile lingering on his lips, "Arthur, are we ready to go?"
"No, not really Skip." Arthur's voice came through the speakers, and the flush faded from Martins' cheeks at the tone of it.
"Well, why not?" Martin demanded, his eyebrows knitting in confusion as he hunched forwards with the force of it; a prickle of trepidation alighted in Deborah's guts and her fingers clenched reflexively over the arms of her seat.
"Because there's a bit of a problem. I um-" Arthur trailed off, the guilt evident in his voice.
"W-what sort of problem?" Martin asked, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself, not that it was doing any good.
"Arthur, what have you done?" Deborah inquired more forcefully when no answer came; knowing what she knew was in the Cabin, she couldn't help but feel just a bit anxious at the thought of things going wrong.
"Nothing on purpose." Arthur explained hastily, his voice crackling as he presumably leaned away from the intercom in preparation for a scolding, "But- I think…it's a big enough problem that maybe you should turn the engines off and come and help me."
"Oh god, what do you think's happened?" Martin asked, his voice filled with dread as he turned off the intercom and sat stiffly back in his seat, turning to Deborah with eyes full of horror and blanched cheeks.
"I dread to think." Deborah muttered, quirking her eyebrows nonchalantly, though she didn't feel it; they couldn't just ignore his plea for help though, "Don't switch everything off yet, let's find out what tragedy awaits us."
oOoOoOo
While Martin and Arthur stood on either side of a now suspiciously empty glass container, sans its lid, one red faced and furious, the other pale and guilty, hands wringing together, Deborah stood back from the two, arms folded over her chest, feet shifting every few seconds, and eyes darting up and down the aisle, unable to find what they were looking for.
"What do you mean it fell?" Martin demanded shrilly, gripping the edges of the container like a lifeline and his head turned from side to side, desperately trying to spot one of the creatures that had hidden in the time it had taken the pilots to enter the Cabin, "How does a heavy, glass box full of live animals just fall?"
"It wasn't strapped in properly, and they were all moving so much that it fell off the seat." Arthur explained indignantly, as he waved a hand through the air to encompass the chair and the box, and its previous path.
"Oh, Arthur-" Martin started to groan, but Arthur raised his hands in a sign of surrender and cut him off.
"No, it's not awful, not like you make it sound." Arthur interrupted, plastering on a hopeful smile as if optimism might get them through the day, "The box is still in one piece, we just need to find them and put them back inside."
"Arthur, which animals were in this particular box?" Deborah inquired, as Martin sighed and closed his eyes in exasperation; after seeing which boxes were still full, she didn't have high hopes.
"That would be the scorpions." Arthur replied matter-of-factly, digging his hands into his pockets as he swayed on his heels.
"What!" Deborah exclaimed, as Martin made a sharp, shrill, high-pitched noise that might have been a squawk, or might have been a scream; as she scrambled backwards in a flash, hoisting her feet from the ground and settling with her knees pulled to her chest, Deborah heard a thud and a squeak as Martin leapt onto the seat of the opposite aisle, still standing, arms wrapped around the back of the seat.
There was a moment of complete silence, in which the three of them stared at the floor, Arthur not having moved at all, and then Deborah lifted her eyes to meet Martin's; the initial flash of terror had faded, but she was still uncomfortable, like a niggle in her throat, and the slight smirk emerging on Martin's lips didn't help that.
"You know, Deborah, I don't think I've ever seen you move so fast." Martin remarked smugly, his eyes tracing over her form as his smirk grew all the wider, regardless of her discomfort.
"Say that again when you're not screaming like a little girl and wobbling on top of the seats." Deborah drawled, wrinkling her nose at him from across the aisle; they could both play that game.
"Yes, alright!" Martin snapped, batting a hand at her and wobbling where he crouched; his eyes darted here and there, as if he could sniff out a scorpion from its lair through willpower alone, "I can't see them, where are they?"
"Probably hiding under the seats, or in the walls, waiting for you," Deborah replied darkly, smirking as his eyes blew wide and his hands gripped the back of the seat all the more tightly, "imagining the sweet taste of Crieff before they move in for the kill."
"Deborah!" Martin exclaimed furiously, his cheeks flaring with exertion as he glared at her; he deserved it, she thought, for making fun of her.
"No, it's alright guys." Arthur announced, walking down the aisle between them, not a trace of fear in his posture as he held out the glass container for them both to see, "The box says that they're not poisonous, or fatal- see, there's no skull and cross bones either."
"They still sting though, no matter how poisonous they are." Deborah muttered, turning away from him to stare at the floor beneath Arthur's feet, anticipating the appearance of the horrible, shelled creatures that she had seen before; nobody took any notice of her however.
"Arthur, this is very important, and I need you to answer me as best you can." Martin spoke calmly and clearly, but he didn't lower himself down from his chosen perch, "How many scorpions were there."
"Um, more than I could fit in my hands," Arthur answered, gazing into the middle distance in thought as he tried to remember; far too much of a strain for him, Deborah imagined, "and they shot off in all directions."
"Okay, o-okay…" Martin let out a few, stuttering exclamations, and made a valiant attempt at steadying his breathing, "When I looked before, there were about ten- o-or maybe twenty."
"What does it say on the box?" Deborah interjected, before he could go any further.
"Fifteen." Arthur replied, coming closer and holding it out for her to read the label; he was right.
"Oh, wonderful." Deborah groaned, rolling her eyes for the sake of having nothing else to do as she glare from one end of the Cabin to the curtain at the other end, still catching no glimpse of the creatures, "There are currently fifteen scorpions wandering unattended through the Cabin – and the Galley, now that I think about it."
"Thank god the flight-deck seals shut." Martin noted, sounding almost relieved, though Deborah couldn't imagine what he had to be relieved about, seeing as they were currently trapped on the ground in a tin can filled with scorpions.
"Precisely." Deborah agreed with a facsimile of cheer, plastering on a jaunty smile as she glared at Martin as if this were all his fault; in a way, it sort of was, "No tiny hijackers today; the CAA's rules have finally proved their worth on GERTI."
"Look!" Arthur exclaimed suddenly, throwing his hand out to point across the aisle, jumping as if startled; Deborah's head snapped in tandem with Martin's to follow the trail of his gesture, "There's one, by your foot Deborah!"
Just like that Deborah's eyes fell on the horrible brown creature that could have spanned her palm, scuttled past the feet that she hadn't realised she had lowered to the floor; before she had time to think about it, she snatched her knees back up to her chest and then hopped onto her heels, letting out a muffled, truncated squeak.
The scorpion scuttled away, and Deborah settled back down, brushing her hair behind her shoulders and pressing her lips together as she met Martin's eyes across the aisle; she hadn't noticed at the time, but he must have reached out to her when she had startled because he was leaning across from his seat, hand outstretched as if for her to take.
Deborah didn't know what he was trying to do, be it trying to help her or panicking and then freezing, but the concerned lilt of his features was enough to quell her annoyance, as his fingers flexed towards her; they might bicker and fight, but she knew that they loved each other enough that Martin could tell when she was genuinely upset, and try to put an end to it.
"Don't you say a word." Deborah warned him, even as she reached across to link her fingers with Martin's, soaking in the faint smile that fluttered onto his lips; she hated the bloody animals so much, but she wasn't going to admit to it.
"So…" the sound of Arthur's voice, as he rocked on his heels and clasped his hands together, drew Deborah back to the present, "what are we going to do?"
"I'm…" Martin began, then stopped, his cheeks flushing as he ducked his head and gnawed on his lips; Deborah peered at him across the aisle for a moment, and was mildly surprised when he dropped her hand and squared his shoulders, pushing his hat a little more securely atop his head, "I'm going to do it."
"Do what?" Deborah retorted, forehead pinching as she watched him inhale deeply and almost ground himself, slowly by surely lowering himself to the floor; miraculously, his luck didn't fail him, and no vermin scuttled out to get him.
"I'm going to catch the scorpions." Martin replied, adopting the poise of the stoic Captain that he thought he was; the picture would have been complete if his hands hadn't been clenching at his sides.
"Why don't you let Arthur do it?" Deborah suggested, trying not to sound as if she had little faith in him; she had a lot of faith in him…just not in this particular area, "He doesn't seem afraid."
"I'm not afraid." Martin insisted, pouting dreadfully at the very implication; he took another deep breath, and looked to where Arthur was waiting on the tips of his toes for instructions, "Besides, he can't catch them all himself, so one of us needs to be brave."
"Is that what you are is it?" Deborah drawled, quirking an eyebrow at him as she remained thoroughly huddled on her own seat; this was ridiculous, he was only going to get himself stung, and then keep her awake all night complaining that it hurt.
"Yes, actually, I am very brave." Martin replied indignantly, puffing out his chest as he spoke; the buttons stretched the material just a little bit more than they had a few months ago, but that was hardly something to complain about, "It's part of being a Captain."
"Golly." Deborah sighed, rolling her eyes at him; some things never changed.
"Yes, golly." Martin repeated, sticking his nose into the air and treading slowly to stand beside her row of seats, and extending his arm to her, "So, my first brave act is going to be helping sneak you across to the flight-deck before the scorpions catch us."
"I don't need hiding away if that's what you're implying." Deborah retorted, surveying his arm and ignoring the temptation to take it; instead, she remained curled up as far into the cushioned seat as she could, arms wrapped around her knees.
"That's not what I was implying." Martin sighed, exhaling through his nose as if in despair, although a faint smile began to reignite in his eyes; he knew by now how to reason past her own pride, "Someone needs to turn off the engines so that we don't waste any more electricity or fuel."
"Fine." Deborah conceded; she sat forwards far enough that she could see Arthur, and could get her feet to the floor when she needed to, ignoring Martin's victorious smirk, "Arthur, you can see down the aisle; is it clear?"
"Seems to be yeah." Arthur answered, as he peered down the aisle, checking up and down just for good measure; he topped his check off with a swift nod, and moved to perch on the edge of one of the seats to throw her a quick thumbs up, "Good luck!"
"Okay-o-kay." Martin began to splutter in anticipation, and he waved his hand at Deborah, ushering her to her feet and wrapping his arm around her back like a physical, albeit useless, barrier, "Here – Debs, come here, I've got you."
"Oh, my knight in shining armour." Deborah drawled sarcastically as she allowed him to hurry her along the aisle, stumbling slightly as he tripped and took her with him; it was too sweet an act for her to dissuade him, "What would I ever do without such a gallant Captain on my arm."
"Shut up, I'm being nice." Martin muttered as they neared the Galley; as if that was ever a reason not to tease him.
"That's beside the point, oh brave and fearless Martin." Deborah teased him, leaning up to press her lips fleetingly against his cheek; Martin stumbled to a halt as he blinked down at her, apparently in shock that his actions were working.
"Um, chaps, not to worry you," Arthur called out from behind them, "but I can see one behind you."
"Ah!" Martin cried out, and without even looking over his shoulder, he was pushing Deborah forwards and through the Galley; as much as she didn't want to be stung by scorpions, she couldn't help but laugh as he screamed, "Run!"
oOoOoOo
Apparently all it took to stir up Martin's innate courage was to lock him in a metal tube with a hoard of scorpions for an hour or two, and allow him to condition a fearless response in himself; Deborah only heard screams emanating from the Cabin for about twenty minutes before they were replaced by the sounds of clanging and cheers of triumph.
About half an hour after that, Deborah had grown bored, and deciding that she could survive the discomfort, braved the Galley and passed through to huddle on the front row of seats to watch Martin and Arthur rush from here to there, stumbling and making complete tits of themselves, and yet, getting the job done.
They had discovered, at some point when she had been gone, that by using the plastic jug Arthur used to make coffee, and one of the thin but sturdy table mats that Carolyn used to avoid having to wipe down the tray tables, they could catch the scorpions much like one would a spider in a cup, after, of course, stamping their feet and luring the beasts out from their hiding places.
Everything was going reasonably well until the Cabin door slammed open, and Carolyn appeared in the gap; thankfully, she pulled it closed behind her, but it was enough to make Arthur and Martin freeze like schoolboys caught with their hands in the someone else's drinks cabinet.
"What are you still doing here!" Carolyn demanded, red faced and practically seething as she took in the scene before her, bereft of any understanding, "You were supposed to be in the air two hours ago!"
"No reason-" Martin began to explain, trying to hide the jug in his hands behind his back, but Arthur beat him to the punch.
"We're catching scorpions." Arthur supplied matter-of-factly, oblivious to the horror that crossed his mother's face; on a scale of one to ten, this was definitely at least a thirteen in terms of awful things that had happened on board GERTI.
"You're what?" Carolyn asked, blinking at the three of them as if ancient Greek had been thrown at her; as always, it was Deborah that her eyes fell to for an explanation, just as her gaping mouth sealed shut.
"Catching scorpions." Deborah repeated, bringing herself forwards and slipping her legs through the gap underneath the seat's arm, but not allowing her feet to touch the floor, "We thought it best not to let them roam free during the flight."
"Why are they out in the first place?" Carolyn squawked, throwing her hands into the air; she didn't make a fuss about it, but she did walk slowly into the Cabin and perch right on the edge of one of the seats, surreptitiously tucking her feet in.
"Uh…um…" Martin trailed off and 'um-ed' as his eyes wandered first over Arthur, then back to the floor, and then to Deborah, as if she might provide answers for his flapping mouth to seize; instead, he simply grasped what might have been the first thing to float through his head, "Technical problems."
"Arthur dropped them didn't he?" Carolyn asked expectantly, sighing with weary exasperation in her very breath as she watched the men begin to move again, tiptoeing up and down the aisle.
"No, I didn't!" Arthur retorted, sending his mother as near to a glare as he could manage while wobbling like a stalk clumsily navigating a lake, arms held high on both sides, "They fell down on their own, I just didn't stop them in time."
"Either way, the result's the same." Deborah cut in before Carolyn could work herself up, "As it stands, there are two scorpions missing, and only one jug with which to catch them in."
"It shouldn't be too long though." Martin assured her, passing his jug from hand to hand as he rocked on his heels and span around, hunting like a deaf and blind cat sniffing in all the wrong places, "I'm getting quite quick at catching them."
"So am I." Arthur chirped from the other end of the aisle, not that anyone paid him any notice.
"Yes…oh, there's one!" Martin leapt into action as a scorpion scuttled out from beneath a seat in the centre of the aisle, and across his path; Deborah instinctively pulled her feet around to the front of her seat, but there was no need, as Martin slammed the jug down over it, trapping the creature within its translucent walls, "Got it!"
"Good, now put it away." Carolyn huffed, eyeing the animal with barely restrained disgust; a cursory glance said enough about how tucked in the older woman was, and Deborah couldn't help but smirk.
"Yes, uh…Arthur, where's the mat?" Martin asked, keeping one hand atop the jug as he knelt down beside it and waved the other through the air, searching around him as if the mat might magically appear within his reach, "I need the mat."
"Oh, I don't know." Arthur replied, turning a quaint little circle as he inspected the area, "You had it last."
"Well I put it down." Martin retorted, sounding as if he were biting his tongue in order to hold back a scold; he dropped his head into his free hand and the tension in his shoulders relaxed just a pinch, "Find it for me please."
While Arthur began to scramble around for the mat that one of them had misplaced, heading back in the direction of the Galley, Deborah sighed and looked away for a moment; only to glance down and see the scorpion lounging around underneath the seat in front of her.
"Oh- Oh – Martin!" Deborah didn't squeak as she yanked her feet onto her seat and pulled her legs tightly against her chest; unfortunately, the motion must have unsettled the creature, as it began making its way towards her, bereft of its kin's fear as she tried to push back as far into the seat as was humanly possible, "Martin, there's one here by me! It's actually climbing to get to me!"
"I've only got one jug, you'll have to wait!" Martin called, not nearly as worried as he should have sounded; not that Deborah could see his face, preoccupied as she was by trying to kick the scorpion away with the tip of her shoes.
"I don't want to wait!" Deborah yelled, not bothering to fight the nagging need to move far, far away, but unable to actually do so, "Hurry up and kill it!"
"Don't kill it!" Carolyn scolded her, though she could talk, nice and safe on the other side of the Cabin, not a reason in the world to be worried, "The client is expecting all of his animals to make it there in one piece, do not kill it!"
"I'm sure he won't mind if one little scorpion gets squished." Deborah remarked bitterly, as she gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply, collecting herself, "It deserves it for trying to – ah – for trying to bite me!"
"Oh, for god's sake." Carolyn rolled her eyes dramatically, and Deborah could have very happily punched her in that moment, "This is the bloody spiders all over again."
"They weren't spiders!" Deborah hissed, spurred enough by the flare of anger in her chest to take her eyes from the scorpion that was merrily trying to crawl up the edge of the seat beside her, "They were big enough to be vermin!"
"I've got it Skip!" Arthur suddenly reappeared from within the Galley, waving a thin mat in his hand, and bounding towards where Martin was still crouched, pinning his trapped scorpion to the floor, "Here we go. Oh, Deborah, don't kick the scorpion."
"Thank you Arthur." Martin chirped when the mat was delivered into his hand; slowly and carefully, he went about scooping the scorpion up and carrying it steadily to its box, before returning swiftly to do the same with the one that was still clambering towards Deborah, like the persistent, stubborn, Martin, of the scorpion world, "See Deborah, I told you I would catch them all."
"You left me to fend for myself." Deborah snapped wanly as the beast was deposited, and the lid pressed firmly shut; now confident that she could place her feet on the floor, though still itching underneath her skin, her eyes followed Martin as he wandered back to stand beside her, one hand resting on the back of her seat.
"But I came through in the end." Martin replied, a fond smile settling onto his face as he looked down at her; trust him to take pleasure from seeing her uncomfortable and miserable.
"I'll consider this the benchmark of our relationship shall I?" Deborah inquired pithily, raising an eyebrow at him as she loosened the arms that were still wound around her chest; it was hard to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that.
"Why not?" Martin shrugged, his smile turning into a smug little grin as he straightened out his jacket and refastened his cuffs, "I'm sure I can do much better than save you from a scorpion."
"Please stop," Carolyn demanded wearily, shaking her head and placing the tips of her fingers over her eyes, "this is making my head hurt even more than the knowledge that you're going to be stupidly late when you arrive in Brazil."
"Surely the man won't mind though." Arthur reasoned, as he lowered himself into one of the seats and looked between the three of them, ever the optimist, "All he'll care about it that his scorpions are safe."
"He won't know, because you won't tell him that they were ever unsafe." Carolyn instructed, making sure to glare pointedly at all three of them before she dared relieve her expression of the well masked exasperation.
"In short Arthur, I will do the talking, and you and Martin can unpack and deal with the animals." Deborah interjected, patting her knees down before she rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders back with a click from the time that she had spent hunched over.
"If you were looking for a benchmark Martin, that was it." Carolyn remarked dryly, looking between the two of them, "Deborah does all the talking but you'll be the one doing the heavy lifting."
"Yeah, well…that's not so bad." Martin replied, as he slipped an arm around Deborah's waist, pulling her close enough that he was a comfortable weight against her side; his cheeks flushed faintly as his cheek came to rest against her hair, "I think it works quite well."
oOoOoOo
"Today has taught me so many things." Martin sighed, as he lay back on the double bed and let Deborah wander around the hotel room, closing the curtains, kicking the flight-bags into corners where they couldn't be tripped over; his arms were outstretched either side of him, like wings, and when Deborah dropped down beside him, he hooked one around her waist, pulling her down to lie on her side.
"Oh really?" Deborah drawled indulgently, quirking her eyebrows at him playfully as she propped herself up on her elbow, and traced her fingers through his hair, relishing how he preened under her attentions, tipping his head back with each stroke, "Apart from how to catch a scorpion in under a minute?"
"It's taught me that even the scariest, most intimidating and hardy creature, has a beautiful inside and is really just a gentle, calm, peaceful thing, that should be marvelled at for the intricacies of its species." Martin explained, picking at her shirt and using his free hand to try and catch hers, winding their fingers together.
"You're not having a scorpion." Deborah told him immediately; there were some things that just weren't going to happen.
"Oh, god no! I don't want one." Martin insisted hastily, sitting up just a little as his eyes widened and he drew his bottom lip through his teeth, "That's not what I meant; it's just that for something so sharp, and dangerous looking, they're really perfectly lovely once you know how to handle them, and get to understand them."
"You're looking at me when you say that." Deborah remarked sharply; it was true, his eyes were still tracing the lines of her face, "Martin, I dearly hope that you're not trying to be romantic by comparing me to a bloody scorpion."
"I'm not…" Martin replied, his lips pouting ever so slightly as he trailed off.
"Oh really, that's a relief." Deborah pretended to gasp, even as she rolled her eyes; then again, she though as Martin nodded in acceptance and let their hands fall, the fluttering in her chest was still very much present, and very particular in the fashion of the cartwheels that the moths were making, "But, you know…you were very brave today."
"You think so?" Martin asked brightly, his expression easing once again in moments; he really was wonderfully easy to please. No pretending or falsification needed to keep him happy and content.
"Yes, of course." Deborah assured him, placing her hand on his chest and smiling indulgently down at him, "You were fearless; just what I needed."
"Thank you." Martin replied smugly, oh so proud of himself as he settled back down on his back, happy to just lie there together; Deborah however had other ideas, and sat back in his embrace, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and rising to her feet.
"I think I'm going to go and have a shower." Deborah remarked nonchalantly, grinning as she watched Martin rise up on his elbows at the loss of contact.
"Oh, alright." Martin nodded, sounding almost disappointed as his eyes followed her as she crossed the room towards the bathroom; she allowed him to disappear from sight for only a moment as she stepped inside, then curled her fingers around the frame, poking her head back out to see him flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"I wouldn't mind the company." Deborah announced suggestively, waiting patiently for him to catch on.
"Oh…" Martin exclaimed on a breath, and he seemed to rise like Dracula from his coffin until he could smile in wonder at her from across the room; the next moment he was a flurry of movement, almost rolling from the bed in a tangle of sheets that he hadn't even been in, "Give me one moment."
"The longer you take the more you miss." Deborah drawled, and with that, she ducked back into the bathroom, beaming as she heard his thudding and tripping in the other room; one glance in the mirror showed that she was looking fine, her smile far too wide for propriety's sake.
"No, Debs – Deborah!" Martin called, his voice petering off into a chuckle as Deborah began to giggle at the sight of the him falling in a tangle of limbs through the door in the mirror, knocking her gently towards the sink as he wrapped his arms around her from behind; all things considered, it hadn't been a bad day after all.
So there we have it. A nice flight chapter to wet your taste buds. I hope you enjoyed that.
