Douglas was alone in the flight deck. It was a short cargo flight to Germany and back. Martin had the day off and was spending it doing two van jobs. Carolyn wasn't with them, as she was on a date with Herc. Arthur was there, but had already made him a cup of coffee and was now watching a television show by himself.
It was unusually quiet without the others, and the First Officer could just hear the insipid television show that Arthur was watching. It had been an easy job, just dropping of a hold full of office supplies in Dusseldorf and then coming back. On the way home, he quietly ran through his favourite arias, singing them under his breath. Then after a while, he allowed his thoughts to drift away, back home. Back to Martin.
He and his captain had been seeing each other for just over a year and a half now, and Douglas found himself stupidly happy. It was moronic really, just how completely happy he felt. He remembered one time saying to Martin and Arthur that no one was ever completely happy. How wrong he was. Other than his relationship status, nothing had changed. He was still middle aged. He was still a thrice divorced recovering alcoholic. He was still a First Officer and fully aware of just how unhirable he was should Carolyn ever sack him, or MJN actually fold. He was still pretty much an absentee father (not by choice, of course. He loved his daughter more than life itself. But he still had an absolute nightmare for an ex-wife who loved to use his daughter as a bargaining chip.) But…all in all, at the end of the day, when he lay down in bed next to Martin and he would roll over and kiss him, say goodnight and that he loved him, Douglas would feel so completely happy, he could hardly speak.
Martin stayed over most nights now. They were at that stage in the relationship where they had almost moved in together, but not quite. Martin kept a toothbrush in the loo and some clothes in a drawer. However, his uniform, hat, and most personal possessions still remained in his attic room. Douglas hoped to change that soon. He had never been to Martin's room, but he knew it was a rather miserable place if the way he kept him away was any indication.
Douglas began reflecting on them and their relationship. He wasn't what you would call an introspective man, but what else was there to do while Arthur occupied himself, and there wasn't anyone else to play Rhyming Flights with? It was remarkable really. In all ways, Martin was completely his opposite, yet they meshed so completely well together and their relationship was certainly the most solid one he has ever had, including the ones he had with all three of his ex-wives. He supposed it was the little things. The tens of thousands of little ways they showed how much they meant to each other. As he flew, he began to regard them.
Touch:
Douglas hadn't realized just how touch-starved Martin was when they first began their relationship. Perhaps it should have been obvious at the start, but in Douglas' defence, he was busy in the process of falling in love with the one person he never thought it was possible to form a relationship with. But he slowly figured it out when he began to notice how Martin would subconsciously lean into his touches when he would caress his cheek or touch his shoulder, or how he would wrap his limbs around him in sleep and hold tight, like Douglas would disappear if Martin let go. Or how when Douglas would hug him, Martin would lean all of his weight against him, as if he couldn't press in close enough. So Douglas began incorporating little, casual touches whenever he could. When they were alone on the flight deck, he would reach over and take his hand, or gently run his fingers across his wrist. When he would return from the loo or the galley, he would squeeze Martin's shoulder and kiss the top of his head if he wasn't wearing his ridiculous hat. (Which he had begun to notice was almost never now.) When they were watching a film in Douglas' sitting room, he would make sure their thighs were touching and take his hand and lean against him. More often than not, Martin's head would drop onto his shoulder partway through the film and then he would fall asleep before the end. Douglas would smile, turn to kiss his temple and watch the rest of the film by himself, letting him sleep. It was in those moments, Douglas felt a warm weight settling into his chest and he'd look at Martin, lost in sleep against him and he knew, that Christ, this was the love of his bloody life.
Public displays of affection:
Martin was never one for it. He just never felt comfortable being all…coupley in public. Douglas was fine with this, as Martin more than made up for it in private. Not that Douglas wanted to snog in public; that sort of behaviour was best left to the teenagers with plenty of hormones to spare. But whenever he was out with a previous partner, (man or woman, didn't matter to Douglas,) he would take their hand, or wrap his arm around their waist as they walked along; little things like that. And he wanted to do the same with him. It didn't matter to him who knew about their relationship; the crew at MJN knew, (Arthur had enthusiastically hugged them both and made sure to leave them alone more often on long flights. Carolyn said she didn't give a toss one way or another, so long as they didn't bring in any lover's quarrels to work, or shag on the plane. Secretly though, she was quite pleased to see her two pilots whom she regarded almost like her own sons so happy. Especially Martin. Lord knew the poor boy needed a little happiness.) Herc knew, his daughter knew, and Martin's mum and family knew. (He had not only told them about Douglas at that rememberable dinner, but he had actually come out at the same time. Not that his family necessarily approved, but they still knew and hadn't made much of a fuss. He recalled Martin's sister Caitlyn saying 'well, he can certainly do much worse.') So even though secrecy was not an issue, Martin always shrunk from showing affection in public and eventually Douglas learnt why. They were sitting on Douglas' bed one night, about six months after they began seeing each other, just before bed. Martin was sitting cross-legged on top of the duvet, watching him change. He was wearing ridiculously big blue pajama bottoms that nearly fell off his hips with an equally overlarge white t-shirt which made him look even more boyish than he already did. His vivid red hair was stuck up in multiple directions from changing and he blinked up at Douglas who changed into a more luxuriant pair of pajamas and sat down next to him, taking his hand. "Martin," he began delicately. "I was wondering. Do you like being with me?"
"Yes, of course I do." He replied instantly, giving his hand a squeeze. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I have noticed that this" he raised their clasped hands "never seems to happen in public. I was wondering why that is."
Martin went from his usual pale to red at an alarming rate that extended from his neck all the way up to his hair. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down.
"Martin. It's okay. I'm sorry." Douglas let go to wrap his arm around his thin shoulders and used his other hand to stroke his arm. "I'm sorry I brought it up. You don't need to answer. If you don't feel comfortable, then you don't feel comfortable and that's okay."
"No." he started and pushed away and moved so he could sit across from him and looked him in the eye. "No, Douglas. I'm sorry. I should have told you…" he took a breath. "It's not that I don't want to…be…you know, affectionate with you. I really do want to. It's just…well, it's just…" his voice trailed off.
Douglas looked him in the eye, and didn't move. This was evidently hard for Martin to talk about, and he didn't want to overwhelm, or distract him. He simply waited for him to collect his thoughts and begin talking again.
"When I was fifteen, I met a boy at school called David." He started slowly, breaking the eye contact and looking at the duvet instead, Douglas reached over and very gently touched his knee with the tips of his fingers, and Martin put his hands on those fingers, holding them in place. "We fell in love very quickly, like teenagers do, and we took to snogging behind the school on our lunches, and holding hands in the hallway. One afternoon after school, some blokes on the rugby team caught us snogging in his car in the carpark." He stopped talking and Douglas knew with a sickening feeling where this was going. "David was beaten up so badly, he had to go to hospital, and I was beaten to a pulp, but managed to escape." He took a deep, shuddering breath and Douglas squeezed his knee, letting him know he was there. "I guess they didn't count on me being so fast." He let out a humourless laugh. "I never saw him again. I felt too guilty to visit him in the hospital, and he wound up leaving our school. And because my parents didn't know why I was in a fight, I was sent back…and…beaten every day. For two more years."
Douglas couldn't stand it anymore, he reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Martin. No wonder public affection makes you uncomfortable. I will never ask it of you again." He stroked his hair as he felt Martin trembling in his arms.
"I've never told that story to anyone." He said quietly after a few minutes.
"I'll take it to the grave." Douglas replied seriously.
"No. I mean. I just…I love you, Douglas." Martin leaned into his chest.
The First Officer froze. They had not exchanged the L word yet, but the words had wanted to burst from his chest for months now. "Oh Martin." He said softly. "I love you too."
And so the public displays of affection didn't increase, but Douglas understood now and that was fine. He knew that Martin loved him and that was more than enough for him.
But! There was the party Carolyn threw on New Year's Eve. The large sitting room was full of people. All of Carolyn's friends, the MJN crew and grounds crew were there. The clock struck twelve and a huge cheer filled the room everyone knocked back champagne and kissed. To Douglas' extreme surprise, Martin gripped him by the back of the head and snogged him. Right there, in the sitting room in front of everyone. Douglas had dropped the finished plastic flute of nonalcoholic champagne to the floor, wrapped his arms around him and picked him up off the floor in enthusiasm as he kissed back. After several seconds, they broke apart, and Douglas rested his forehead on Martin's for a moment and looked behind his back. Carolyn and Herc were watching them with their arms around each other's waists. Herc was determinedly not looking at them, trying to give them a moment. However, Carolyn was looking at him with more fondness in her gaze than he had ever seen from her. The momentary spell was broken when Arthur came over and leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek and then the crowd began singing Auld Lang Syne.
And! The four of them were in Boston for the day, and so they decided to walk around the city. It was a beautiful autumn day, and there were people everywhere. They ambled through Faneuil Hall and Arthur thought the Hall Marketplace was brilliant. Carolyn had to stop him buying yet another stuffed lobster. He had already bought three. In the crowd, Douglas suddenly felt a small pressure in his right hand, and he looked down to see Martin's slipped into his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, saying nothing else about it, letting his wide smile speak for itself.
Sex:
Sex hadn't happened quickly into their relationship. Martin had seemed reluctant at first, and Douglas didn't push. His own libido had lessened some over the years, and he was willing to wait as long as it took for Martin to feel more comfortable. They both had medicals and STI testing, and both came back clean, which Douglas could tell made Martin feel a little more at ease. They also had a long discussion about their own histories. Martin had only been in one relationship since his school days and about two terrible one nighters were all that lurked in his closet of sexual history. He had already known about Douglas' three ex-wives, so he glossed over them and explained that no, he hadn't really pulled thousands of stewardesses, but his number was well into the triple digits, most of it from his uni days.
After that conversation, Douglas had noticed Martin becoming even more reluctant to do anything more than kissing. Martin had been sleeping over nearly every night, but when the lights would go out, he would give Douglas a quick kiss on the lips, say good night and that would be that. One night, they went further.
They had begun in the sitting room, with a kiss by Douglas which Martin retaliated. It very quickly grew more feverish and heated. They staggered up the stairs to the bedroom, their clothes somehow disappearing as they went. Martin's shirt wound up on the steps, Douglas' trousers were somewhere on the banister with his right sock and Martin's left sock. Their pants on the floor of the hallway near the bedroom. Douglas had pulled Martin down on the bed on top of him, their mouths were clamped together, tongues in each other's mouths, their hands wandering all over each other's chests and stomach, nearly frantic in their movements. They were both hard and wanting when Martin suddenly pulled off of him and sat on his heels, a frightened look on his face. Douglas blinked through the haze of thwarted lust, and very gently asked what was wrong, reaching up to cup his cheek, and look him in the eye.
"I'm going to mess it up." Martin replied, distressed.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't have…I'm not…I'm not like you. I haven't had…" he stammered.
"You're worried because you're less experienced than I am." Douglas brought him down for a quick kiss. "That's it, isn't it?"
"Well, you've…and I've….I just don't think…"
"Martin, you berk." He said very fondly and kissed him again. "Give me your hand." The Captain placed his hand in his with a bit of a confused look on his face. Douglas took it and brought it down to his cock and let Martin feel just how hard he was. He didn't pull away. "I find you incredibly attractive, Martin. I don't give a toss how experienced you are. I want you. Not the ghosts of your past. I would hope that you wanted me too, and not the ghosts of mine. Just because there are more of them in mine, doesn't mean I want you any less."
"It's not just that." He explained, still sounding upset. "What if I cock it up? You're used to…much more."
"I am used to one offs with people who I don't care about and don't care about me. That has been my entire past with the exception of three hiccoughs in the middle." Douglas replied firmly. "I care about you, and I want you. I will never push you into anything, and I want you to know that. But I also want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. And that I'm nervous too. Martin, I really want to be with you. I really care for you and I want to make it as good for you as I possibly can. Alright?"
In lieu of a verbal reply, Martin kissed him.
Three nights later, they shagged for the first time, by rubbing off against each other and in the afterglow, Douglas cleaned them both up, then held him and kissed his sweaty hair, stroking his narrow chest. They breathed each other in and spoke in very soft tones. It was fumbling and awkward, as they hadn't learnt each other's bodies yet. But it had also been beautiful and they had laughed together.
From there, the sex had only gotten better as they became more familiar with the other's likes, dislikes and contours of their bodies. Douglas had learnt that Martin instantly hardened when he gripped and tugged his hair. He learnt that a nibble to his earlobe made him weak in the knees. He also learnt that kissing Martin's throat made him break out into ticklish giggles and when he ran his fingers down his knotted spine, goosebumps would arise and he would shiver. Martin had meanwhile learnt that when he bit Douglas' collarbone, he would groan and tighten his hold on him. When he gently brought his nipple into his mouth and used his teeth, it would nearly send Douglas into coming right then and there, and that he hated having his own earlobe nibbled, but when Martin groaned directly into his ear, Douglas would harden further.
When Martin shyly admitted a few weeks after that first time that he had never been penetrated before, but was curious about it, but frightened as well, Douglas had concocted a whole night of romance. He had brought him out to a very expensive Italian restaurant (Not in Fitton, of course) He got him two glasses of the finest red wine on the menu (drinking a glass of water himself) and after a shared decadent chocolate mousse, they had left and went for a drive. It was a cool, summer evening and Douglas parked at a park near Fitton. They walked under a beautiful full moon near a lake, they stood near the bank, looking at the reflection of it on the water, fish creating tiny ripples in the otherwise perfect surface and held hands in the dark, talking. He brought Martin back to his, and they made love that night. Twice. Douglas had been very gentle and Martin had responded with enthusiasm once he got past the initial discomfort.
After a few months, Douglas knew that Martin was the best lover he had ever had. Simply because Martin was the most studious lover he had ever had. Once they began having sex, Martin had thrown himself into studying Douglas' body like he had the flying safety manual. And Douglas was determined to do the same for him. And if Martin's cries of ecstasy where to be believed; he was.
Gifts:
Douglas loved showering Martin with gifts. It was never anything huge, just little things. When Douglas was out and saw something he knew Martin either needed or would like, he would pick it up for him; like a pair of earbuds he knew that he would appreciate after his broke, and he couldn't afford to replace them. Or a book he knew he'd love.
He hadn't known that Martin loved to read. Mystery novels especially. Agatha Christie was a favourite. Douglas had found out the morning after he had slept over for the first time when they first began see each other. He had woken up to an empty bed, and when he came downstairs, he had found Martin curled up on a chair, nose deep in a book. He had shyly put the book back on his massive bookshelf and apologized for going through his things. To which, Douglas had kissed him, retrieved the novel and put it back in his hands. "I'll prepare breakfast. You keep reading." Two days later, Martin found his own copy of that book in his flight bag.
Martin was notoriously bad at receiving unexpected gifts. He would go all pink and stammer out a thanks and Douglas had to restrain from laughing. Because he had almost no money, Martin couldn't lavish Douglas with gifts, so he frequently made things for him. About a month into their relationship, Douglas came downstairs one morning to find Martin had prepared them a huge breakfast of French toast, bacon, eggs, toast, and sausages. Another time, Martin had disappeared for nearly a week, only seeing Douglas at work and refused to tell him why he wouldn't come over afterwards. On that Sunday, he came over early in the morning and when Douglas answered the door wearing a grumpy expression at having been woken up, Martin had presented him with a framed beautiful drawing he had done of him standing in front of G-ERTI that was so lifelike, he had even captured the way the sun hit his dark hair. "My one actual talent." He had said demurely when Douglas rather breathlessly had thanked him. It was a shame Martin didn't particularly love drawing; he'd be a very successful artist. Douglas had thought every time he looked at it from then on where it hung in his sitting room.
But! There was that time when Martin had been coming to work looking more wan than usual. He was losing weight and getting paler. The dark circles hung almost perpetually under his eyes. He almost never spent the night with Douglas either. Carolyn and Arthur began whispering to one another that maybe it wasn't working out between them, and Douglas was getting worried. Whenever he tried to broach the subject with Martin, he would very gently rebuke him and say he didn't want to talk about it. After nearly a month of this, and Douglas was nearly ready to tear his hair out, his birthday arrived and Martin came over. After a tense and quiet dinner at a local Thai restaurant, the Captain had slid and envelope across the table. Douglas opened it and nearly fell out of his chair. Inside were two tickets for the following Saturday evening to seeDie Walkure at the Royal Opera House in London. "How…how did you get these?" Douglas asked, mouth falling open.
"I heard an advert for the show on the radio a couple of months ago, and so I began saving money. I got the tickets last night. I know it's your favourite opera, do you like them?" A slow smile began spreading over Martin's face.
"How? You don't have any…oh Martin." It dawned on him. "That's why I haven't been seeing you. You've been taking on extra work in your van, haven't you?"
A faint blush came across his cheeks and neck, and Douglas knew he was right. "You're always giving me things, and well, just this once, I wanted to give you something that you won't ever forget." He mumbled at the table. "Do you like them?" He asked again.
"I love them. I love them and I love you, you utterly ridiculous man." He took his hand from across the table and quickly squeezed before letting go, as he knew that Martin still wasn't on about public affection. Then he ordered for the cheque from a passing waiter.
"What are you doing? We haven't even ordered dessert." Martin raised his eyebrows.
"I'm going to take you back to my house and show you just how much I love them." He looked into his eyes and Martin had instantly understood. That night, he showed him three times just how much he loved them.
Comfort:
Martin Crieff was many things; good in an emergency, was sadly not one of them. His Captain was skittish, easily startled and panicked at small things. Douglas knew it came from a lack of self-confidence, but also from the unbelievable pressure he put on himself. So when he landed the plane in St. Petersburg with only one engine, Douglas had fully expected Martin to be a panicking mess, but was startled when he calmly landed the plane. He took control, landed the plane and once everything was completed, sat in the galley and let Arthur give him a cold cup of horrible not-coffee. But his eyes were unfocused and his hands trembled slightly. Douglas sat down next to him and squeezed his shoulder. "Martin. Martin…are you okay?" He nodded and said he was okay, but his voice was unnaturally calm and even. Finally, Douglas had sent Arthur away and he knelt in front of him and held both his shoulders, looking him firmly in the eye. "Martin. It's completely alright if you aren't okay. But you landed the plane on one engine successfully. You dealt with a real emergency beautifully; and I am so proud of you. I couldn't have done it better. I promise." He said in a low, even voice.
Before he knew it, Martin had launched himself from the chair into Douglas' arms, shaking like a leaf. Douglas enveloped him tightly and held him against his chest, as Martin's breathing became faster and harder. The First Officer sat on the floor with Martin in his arms and lap, stroking his back and his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear. He was fully aware of how ridiculous it would look to any outside party, but didn't actually give a toss. It took fifteen minutes for Martin to calm down and he eventually stood up, helping Douglas to his feet. He kissed him quickly in the privacy of the empty galley and thanked him in an embarrassed whisper. He merely said there was nothing to thank him for, and that he loved him.
Sometimes, for seemingly no reason, Martin would get sad. It was obviously mild depression and would last about two or three days. He hid it well from MJN, but Douglas very quickly learnt the signs a mood was coming upon him. His appetite (for both food and sex) would decrease, he would become quiet, and he would take to staring off into space for long periods of time, occasionally not moving from his spot on the sofa for hours, staying still into the wee hours of the morning. He couldn't sleep and more than once, Douglas caught him crying silently when he thought no one could see him.
He had wanted to broach the subject of seeing a professional with him, but he knew Martin would never agree to it. He was a foolishly proud man and had precious little to be proud of. (To himself at least. To Douglas; he had so much to be proud of) and that made him extra defensive and less likely to seek help when he needed it. Not to mention; private therapy could be quite costly. And he'd never accept if Douglas offered. So he never brought it up, just tried to help him through it when it happened. However, if anything serious came up, Douglas would call in a professional faster than Martin could say; 'altimeter.'
One rainy, cold Tuesday morning, on a day off, Martin woke up that way. He was quiet and subdued during breakfast and when Douglas suggested they go to Duxford air museum, (Usually, Martin's go-to place when he was sad) but he merely shook his head and stirred his porridge. After breakfast, which Martin didn't eat, Douglas brought him into the sitting room and sat him on the couch. He then took the biggest, fluffiest blanket he owned and wrapped it around his thin shoulders. Then he made a cup of tea and put it into his hands, telling him he didn't have to drink it, but it was warm and would feel nice to hold on to. Then he went to the small piano he had and sat down, cracking his fingers. Then he began to play. He played Martin's favourite pieces and during the last one, he turned and saw him weeping silently, looking at the floor, body shaking. He finished the song, calmly went over to the sofa and sat down next to him, plucking the now cold cup of undrunk tea from his hands and put it on the coffee table. He then gently pulled him into a laying position across his chest and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly and began stroking his hair. He remained silent and just let Martin cry into his shirt, as he rubbed soothing circles on his back. His heart broke for him, because how long had Martin suffered like this alone? How long had it been since he had anyone at all to comfort him when he felt like this? How long had Martin been allowed to feel like he had no one in the world? 'Never again.' He thought to himself as he tightened his hold. 'This man will never feel alone again.'
Eventually, Martin exhausted himself and fell asleep against him, and Douglas remained there, perfectly happy to provide as much comfort as he could. He wound up falling asleep himself, listening to Martin's deep, even breathing and the rain hitting the windows.
Martin wasn't as good reversely at comforting people. His awkward way of dealing with emotions was a bit of a hinderance. However, Douglas didn't need comforting often and when he did, usually, a hug would do.
But! There was one day, a bright and sunny Friday morning when everything seemed to be going splendidly. They were at work, waiting for the client. Arthur was prattling away, making coffees for everyone, Carolyn was reading a book and half answering her son, Douglas was thumbing through a sports magazine and Martin was coming up with the flight plan. The room was cheery and close when Douglas' mobile began to ring. When he saw who it was, he rolled his eyes and left the room to answer it. Martin looked curiously for a moment up to where he went, and went back to his flight plan.
Douglas returned five minutes later, looking tense, all good mood completely gone. He pocketed his mobile with more force than necessary and gave Martin's questioning gaze a firm headshake. He sat down at the table and began looking through his magazine again. Neither Carolyn nor Arthur had noticed he had gone, but Martin saw him reading the article for another half hour, and never turning the page once. An hour later, the client had showed up and they were in the air, heading for Italy.
"Are you going to tell me who that was?" Martin asked about an hour and forty five minutes into the flight. They'd be landing very soon, and throughout the entire flight, Douglas hadn't even tried to suggest a word game, or said anything at all.
"My ex-wife."
"Which one?"
"The middle one. Laura." He spat.
"Jeannine's mum." Martin understood instantly. Jeannine was supposed to come on Sunday and be staying with him for a whole week of her summer holiday. Douglas had been looking forward to it for ages, and had requested the time off months ago. Carolyn had taken a lot of convincing, but finally acquiesced when Douglas threatened to quit. He hadn't seen his daughter in months, and he had tickets to the London Zoo and to different museums, and even had Carolyn agree to let them come along on a cargo flight they were taking to Greece and would be there for three days. (It had helped that he paid Carolyn the going passenger rate for both him and his daughter, to help make up for the week he'd be off) He had also paid Herc two hundred pounds to take his place, flying the plane with Martin, so he could spend the entire time sitting with Jeannine and talking. She was ten now, and every time he saw her, she was heartbreakingly bigger.
So they had two days in London, three days in Greece, followed by another two days of just relaxing at Douglas' during which Martin would join them, to get to know her a little more. She was fully aware of them being together, and was one hundred per cent supportive. "My dad's happy, than I'm happy." She had said when he told her about it on the phone, but still had only met Martin a handful of times.
"Is she not letting her come after all?" Martin asked quietly, reaching out for Douglas' hand.
"No. No she isn't. Apparently, her boyfriend is taking them to Portugal to meet his family and they will be gone the entire holiday." He didn't take Martin's hand, squeezing the arms of the seat instead. "She knew that this was my time to spend with her, and she goes and pulls this." He snarled through clenched teeth. "I spend almost no time with her as it is, she's ten now, and I missed her last birthday because I was flying and couldn't get the day off. This was supposed to be MY WEEK!" he shouted and instantly reigned himself in. "I'm sorry, Martin." He closed his eyes a brief moment and before he could stop himself, began to cry. He buried his head in his hands. "I'm a terrible father. I can't believe she would do this. I can't…"
Arthur of course, picked that exact moment to burst into the flight deck, having heard the shouting and wanted to help. Martin shooed him out and he scurried away, looking slightly terrified. Douglas wasn't supposed to go to pieces. That just didn't happen.
"You're not a terrible father." Martin said softly. "You aren't. Douglas, you love her. That automatically makes you not a terrible father." He wanted to hug him and felt so helpless in that moment. He almost wished for Herc to be there so he could take his First Officer into the galley and help him calm down. At that point, they had to land.
Carolyn and Arthur got the client off the plane, leaving them alone. Martin landed and performed the post landing checks by himself. The entire time, Douglas hadn't even looked up. After he did so, he came over to him and knelt in front of his seat, very gently took his chin and looked him in the eye. "Douglas." He said quietly. "You aren't a terrible father."
"Yes I am. Martin, I barely see her. Not to mention, what sort of example am I providing to her? I'm a middle aged thrice divorced alcoholic who got fired from his big fancy job at Air England, not that she knows that of course and works for an airline that could literally fold at any time. What sort of child wants that as a father?"
Martin leaned in and kissed him gently. "I would." He whispered. "You love her. You're already better than Arthur's father. You're proud of her. You're already better than mine. You've been prepared to move heaven and earth just to spend time with her. Douglas, you are an amazing dad. Any child would be lucky to have you. It's not your fault that your ex-wife is…well, is…"
"A shrew?" Douglas supplied, eyes getting wet again.
"I was going to say dragon." He replied, earning a small watery chuckle from the First Officer.
Martin wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight. "You truly are a fantastic dad. And Jeannine loves you. I'm sure she's just as upset as you are. Remember when she cried because she didn't get to see you on Christmas last year?"
Douglas let out a very sudden, loud sob and leaned into Martin's hug. Years of guilt and self-loathing crashing over him all at once and he couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Oh god. Oh god. I'm so sorry." Martin stammered, startled and feeling awkward. He held him tighter. "Nononononononono. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Douglas. Please. Don't. Please don't." He rubbed his back the way he knew it always soothed him when he was upset, and let him soak his uniform. Douglas' hands clutched his back and Martin didn't care about the creases it was causing.
"I. Am. A. Failure." Douglas panted and renewed his weeping.
"Shhh. Don't say that. You're not. Of course you aren't." Martin stroked his hair and kissed his temple. "You'd be a failure if you didn't care. You'd be a failure if right now, you weren't upset. You'd be a failure if she didn't want anything to do with you. You aren't a failure, Douglas. You are a bloody good father and I'm sure she's proud of you." Martin hugged him as hard as he could, feeling Douglas' body wracking with tears.
Slowly Douglas calmed himself down and pulled away. "I'm going to phone her." He finally said firmly, voice scratchy. "I'm going to phone her tonight and I'm going to fight like hell for my daughter." He wiped his face and stood up. Martin joined him and nodded. "And I will win." He growled and Martin hugged him again, quickly.
"Yes. You will. You always do." Martin agreed.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For reminding me that I always win." Douglas took his hand and kissed it.
Two days later, he and his daughter went to the zoo. At the end of their week together, she kissed his cheek and proclaimed him to be "the best dad ever," and she even bestowed a kiss on a slightly flustered and red-faced Martin and said that he was "the best dad's boyfriend ever." And Douglas had laughed at Martin's sputtering thank you to her.
Douglas was an incredibly lucky sod and he bloody well knew it. And realized it yet again while flying home from Germany that day. This last year and a half has been the single greatest time in his life, and Martin was aside from his daughter, the best thing in his life, and he would protect what they had at any cost. He would do anything for that completely ridiculous man waiting for him at his house. That weekend, he'd ask Martin to officially move in, he decided.
He was still lost in thought, thinking of all these things at once, when Arthur came in. His show had ended and he put on coffee for them. Douglas allowed him to sit in the other seat and watch the clouds until he grew bored and asked to play a word game. He agreed and they played Brians of Britain for a while. For about two minutes because beyond Blessed, Arthur couldn't think of any. So finally, Douglas allowed him to begin a game of charades. What the hell, he was feeling generous. About another thirty minutes passed and they were back in Fitton airport. The sun was getting lower in the sky and would be setting quite soon. Arthur told him that the flight was brilliant and then asked what he was doing that night. Douglas merely smiled and said;
"I'm going home. There is a certain airline Captain that I'd very much like to snog right now." And he turned and headed for his Lexus, leaving a widely grinning Arthur in his wake.