Carolyn was down with the flu, and since she insisted on having at least one fit pilot and steward Arthur was staying at Douglas's place for the time being. Any other time of the year Douglas wouldn't have minded at all; he was actually quite fond of the boy, and he secretly enjoyed the genuine admiration Arthur bestowed upon him, be it deserved or not.
Unfortunately, it was that particular time of the year when Douglas's self-esteem – which was wobbly on the best of days, regardless of the act he felt the need to put on – hit an all-time low. To him Father's Day was nothing but a bitter reminder of all the ways he'd failed the two people that mattered the most to him: his beautiful daughters, who were growing up far away from him and thus slowly growing apart. He wasn't sure he could put up with Arthur's relentless optimism on such an occasion, though to be fair he supposed that after the recent events the lad might have some issues of his own with the celebration.
When the dreaded day arrived he could barely persuade himself to get out of bed and turn on his phone; two brief phone calls after – Verity was in Canada, and Emily was away with her mother – he felt more than a little emotionally drained, and decided to go out for a walk. Arthur accepted his statement that he needed some fresh air with one of his cheerful smiles, and on any other day Douglas would have cracked a joke about trying not to burn down the house in his absence.
Not this time though; and if he had to be honest, Arthur was getting better and better at cooking after the course his mother had wisely decided to put him through. However, he was completely unprepared for the delicious smell that greeted him home as he unlocked the front door not an hour and a half later.
A lemon-shaped cake was cooling on the kitchen worktop, and Arthur was performing some complex operation that involved a pastry bag and some sort of custard. It took him a moment to realise that the boy was attempting to use the custard as icing, and what it was that he was trying to write on the cake; after that the kitchen went a bit blurry for some reason, and he found it considerably difficult to swallow around the lump that appeared to have settled in his throat.
Arthur's smile dropped as soon as he noticed the way Douglas was clutching at the back of one of the chairs. "I'm sorry I made a mess in your kitchen," the boy hastened to explain. "I promise I'll clean up everything later."
"No, that's not – never mind." The smudgy 'Happy Father's Day' was staring back at him from the top of the cake, and he found himself torn between the need to burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation, and an equal urge to allow himself a little cry just for this once.
He settled for letting go of the chair and stepping closer. "Come here, you clot," was all he managed to say before he wrapped the ridiculous young man in a clumsy embrace. That was exactly what he'd been needing all day long, though he would have never admitted it under ordinary circumstances.
Nor could he bring himself to regret his moment of weakness; for it was well known at OJS Air that Arthur gave the best hugs one could ask for.