Fatigue tugs at Martin Crieff's brain, the way a child might pull on his mother's sleeve. Three hours to go until they land in Fitton, and he feels absolutely wrecked. Inwardly, he's still cursing Carolyn for ignoring his and Douglas's protests, and insisting that they were still "perfectly fit to fly a few extra hours". He gives his head a shake, hoping it'll wake him up a little more, and glances over at Douglas, who has been quiet for way too long. Now Martin gets why Douglas was eager to give up control. The bastard's asleep, he thinks, as a mix of annoyance and frustration flashes through his head.
"Douglas," Martin says with a groan. He leans over and pokes his shoulder.
Douglas doesn't move.
"Douglas...?"
Still nothing. Martin huffs.
"Douglas!" He delivers a swift punch to the First Officer's shoulder. "Wake up!"
Douglas awakens with a snort, which he tries to cover up with a cough. It's all Martin can do to hide the satisfied grin that threatens his face. A yawn pounds its fists on the inside of his ribcage, and before he can stifle it, it escapes.
"Hmm? Oh. Let me guess: you want a turn to sleep, don't you."
"Well," Martin starts. "I really would appreciate-"
Douglas is asleep again before he finishes his sentence.
"Right then," Martin mutters to nobody. "Looks like I've got control again."
Arthur comes into the flight deck with a cup of tea (peppermint, from the smell of it) in one hand, and coffee (black, nothing in it) in the other. His eyes meet Martin's, and he smiles.
"Tea? Coffee? Key? Toffee?" He asks.
"Mmm, you can have the tea," Martin replies, glancing over at Douglas. "Douglas can miss out on his coffee. I think I need it more, anyway." Martin justifies his statement with another yawn, and his shoulders slump involuntarily, like someone settled a weight on them.
"You look really tired, Skip," Arthur notes, his voice becoming softer.
"Oh, I am," Martin says, biting back another yawn. He rolls his shoulders once, twice, and then takes a deep breath.
"And you look a bit tense."
Martin's pretty sure he knows where this is going. And he likes it.
Arthur sets the teacup in the cup holder, and hands Martin the coffee. He leans over Martin's shoulder, and presses a warm kiss to the skin on his neck. Martin shivers.
"Do you want to come to my place when we land?"
The new deepness in Arthur's voice causes Martin's thoughts to turn into static fuzz. He definitely wants to go home with Arthur. He wants to feel the soft contours of Arthur's lips with his own, smooth his hands over the little bit of pudge on his hips, give that arse a nice squeeze. He wants to, but he's so tired.
"Arthur, I'm not sure if I should." He almost regrets saying it as soon as it comes out.
Arthur gives him a knowing smile. "Mum won't be there tonight. She's got a date with Herc. Besides, I had something nice in mind for you."
"There, that should do it," Arthur says as he turns off the bath water. A sudden silence falls over the room, save for the fizzing noise of the mountain of bubbles in the tub. Martin isn't so sure about this anymore. Sure, Arthur's seen him without a shirt before, and vice versa, but it's being completely naked in front of him that makes Martin a bit nervous. It's a little late to turn around now, though. The water's been run, Arthur has already stripped down to just his pants, and the steaming bath looks so damn inviting.
Ah, to hell with it, Martin thinks, as he pulls his shirt over his head. His shoulder muscles protest, but he ignores it. This bath is going to feel so good. He hesitates for a moment, but after a quick "You've got this, Martin" blips between his thoughts, he unbuttons his trousers, and steps slowly out of them. He looks up at Arthur, and already becomes half hard at the keen interest in the taller man's face. He can't help but watch as Arthur kicks out of his pants. He feels his face heat up when he realizes that Arthur is completely, shamelessly naked in front of him.
This bath could prove lots of fun.
It takes a fair amount of courage for Martin to take off his own pants, and when he does, Arthur simply smiles, and gestures towards the tub.
"I'll get in first," he says. "and that way, you can sit in front and lay against me."
"Alright..."
Arthur sinks into the bubbles, and sighs. When Martin gets in, he slides into the water slowly, and closes his eyes when the hot water against his chest steals his breath away. He lets his head drop on Arthur's shoulder, and for a moment, he's not sure what else to do. He's never been in a bath with someone else before; is there some kind of protocol? Proper etiquette?
The satisfied chuckle from Arthur quells Martin's worry. Martin feels Arthur plant a kiss to the top of his head, and strong arms wrap around his chest.
"Feel better, Martin?"
Martin feels warm inside at hearing his own name spoken so gently.
"Mhmm..." he lets his head loll to the side, and he brushes his lips against the cool skin of Arthur's neck. "Thank you."
"It's no problem, Skip," Arthur says. "You deserve it."
I love him, Martin thinks, as the world around them fades into nothing but Arthur, himself, and those arms wrapped protectively around him.
It isn't until Arthur nibbles on his ear that Martin realizes he fell asleep.
"Come to my room," Arthur says.
Martin looks up from the Chesterfield in the sitting room, feeling a little embarrassed that Arthur must have read his thoughts.
Arthur gives his hand a squeeze. "I saw you eyeing up the Chesterfield. You should come sleep in my bed with me."
Martin doesn't argue.
Arthur's bedroom is a lot different from Martin expected. Martin expected to see a fun, maybe even childish sort of room; the sort of bedroom with light blue walls with clouds painted on them, and model aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling. Instead, three of the walls are a soft beige, and the wall by the bed is a deep, pleasant red that reminds Martin of wine, and maybe romance. Either way, it's warm and inviting, and Martin smiles when he notices the toy planes that line the top of the bookshelf, and the worn out teddy bear on top of Arthur's dresser.
"You can borrow these," Arthur offers, handing Martin a pair of blue pyjama bottoms.
The light goes out, and Martin feels the mattress dip when Arthur climbs in. The warmth from Arthur's body sends a tingle from the top of Martin's skull down to the base of his spine, where it coils like a ball of heat.
"Did you have a good day?" Martin asks, as he nestles close to Arthur's chest.
"Brilliant. I think we should go to Barcelona again sometime."
"Maybe," Martin replies.
"I can't believe Mum made you two fly today. You both looked so tired."
Martin nods into the nape of Arthur's neck. "And I'm absolutely exhausted now."
"It wasn't fair that Douglas got to sleep all the way home, and you had to do most of the work."
"Well," Martin replies, starting to feel too tired to speak. "I'm the Captain. I've got control."
Arthur's arms snake around Martin again, and Martin can't stop smiling as he leaves a trail of little kisses over Arthur's skin in response.
"Martin," Arthur starts. "You're the Captain. You're always in control. But at the end of the day, when you hang up your hat and the stripes on your arm don't matter anymore, who's there to take care of you?"
Before Martin can say anything, Arthur presses their lips together, kissing away all Martin's remaining thoughts. Arthur's embrace grows tighter, and with all the energy he has left, Martin deepens the kiss, and gives Arthur's bottom lip a gentle nibble.
"At the end of the day, I'll take care of you," Arthur whispers. "I love you, Skip."
"I love you too," Martin breathes, as he slowly, happily drifts off.