Title: Kiss the Cook
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Words: 3542 this chapter
Pairing: Eventual Martin/Arthur
Disclaimer: I do not own Cabin Pressure because I am nowhere NEAR as awesome as John Finnemore or the BEEBEECEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Summary: Martin is down on his luck again until he realizes he's had a friend this whole time. As it turns out, Arthur may not be such a clot after all.

Note: This story is really just me having a bit of fun in my spare time. I'm a big fan of slow progression, so if you would like to read this story as a WIP, I hope you have a lot of patience!

The best and only word to describe Martin Crieff at that particular moment in his life was: awkward.

He tried to think back to the events that caused him to find himself in nothing but a bathrobe in Arthur Shappey's hallway, while his host sang and danced around in the kitchen wearing an embarrassing apron. The worst of it was that he was happy at the moment as opposed to, well, the exact opposite of happy, which he generally was.

And Arthur barely had to do anything to put Martin in this state! The young steward simply found him, picked him up and transported him to a land of elbow room and hot showers.

Martin peeked again around the corner, and Arthur had danced himself around to where he could easily see the captain. He took the opportunity to step back into the kitchen and clear his throat.

Arthur popped out an ear bud. "All washed up? Dinner's almost ready."

"What are we having?"

"It's a surprise!"

Martin would have objected, but the food smelled so good and his stomach growled so loudly, that he figured he could chance it. "Listen, do you think, maybe, I could borrow some clothing? Mine's all wet, you see."

"Oh, yeah… alright," Arthur said as he turned around and lowered the heat of the pot on the stove. "My room is just upstairs. Follow me."

The fact that Arthur was just so comfortable with everything rubbed off on Martin and he couldn't help but relax in the steward's presence. If Douglas ever found out about the goings-on here, no matter how completely innocent, neither of them would ever hear the end of it. And, seeing as Martin had to spend most of his time on the flight deck with Douglas, he felt he had the worst part of the deal. He had to keep reminding himself that Douglas was not there. Carolyn, apparently, was not there, either. It was just himself and Arthur, and depending on their capacity for keeping secrets, everything would continue as normal afterward.

Right.

Arthur's room was, well, it was Arthur's room. It appeared that after their trip to Qikiqtarjuaq, Arthur had really taken to his new book about bears. Or, Martin reasoned, maybe he had always been into the animal, and Martin had never known that that was how he had chosen to decorate his room. Nevertheless, he didn't dwell on the subject and happily accepted the solid white tee and what looked like workout shorts. They would be a little loose, but there was a drawstring on the shorts that would help a great deal.

"You know, Arthur, you really don't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, Skip, really!"

"Really?"

"Well, yeah! You're always so nice to me, even though Douglas says I'm a clot," Arthur said, beaming a little that he had remembered the word correctly. Martin thought it odd that one should be happy about getting one's own insult correct.

"Well, you're just… you and everyone has their quirks, I guess…." Martin stumbled through his words, as he tried to sound nice without sounding very complimentary. Arthur really did step up to the plate when he was really needed, and it seemed he really did try his best.

Martin knew all about trying one's best only to find out that one's best wasn't good enough.

Arthur just appeared much happier about his situation, though. "Gee, thanks, Skip! Oh! I'd better go check on the dinner!" he said with his usual grin and headed briskly back down the stairs.

Dinner was actually lovely. Martin was astonished to the point of disbelief.

Arthur could drive a car without crashing.

Arthur could cook a decent meal.

Arthur was as kindhearted and generous as he appeared to be.

Martin was absolutely floored.

With Carolyn and Douglas constantly demeaning him, it was no wonder Arthur was the way he, well, was. The brief meeting Martin had had with Gordon also solidified Arthur's lifelong tolerance for teasing, and he appeared to come out the better for it.

Martin felt a twinge of shame for feeling so down on himself before. Sure he had a crappy living situation, but he had a roof over his head. He had a terrible, low-paying job, but it was money. He couldn't afford anything more than a couple pounds of groceries a week, but he did get some free meals while flying GERTI. He didn't get paid to fly, but he got to see different parts of the world, and soar high above the clouds—something about which most men dared only dream.

He chuckled to himself as he spooned another bite of the stew Arthur had prepared.

Arthur looked up from his bowl. "Does it taste funny?"

Martin blinked and looked up. "What? Oh, no… no, it doesn't. It's pretty good, actually."

Arthur beamed.

"It's just, Arthur… you've managed to cheer me up without really saying anything."

"Oh. Did I?"

"Yeah."

"Brilliant! … How so?"

"Well, you're just… you're being you. You're your usual happy self."

"Well, yeah, I'm always my happy self."

"Why is that?"

"Why is what?"

"Why are you so happy?"

"Oh, I don't know, Skip. There's loads to be happy about. Do I need to remind you to toss an apple back and forth a bit to be cheered up?" Arthur said, making a movement to get up and head into the kitchen to grab the fruit.

Martin stopped him. "No, I'll survive without the apple. I just can't find anything to be happy about."

"Wow…. Well, that's where you're wrong."

"Oh?" Martin leaned back in his chair. Never mind that he had just had a little burst of optimism he absorbed through Arthur via osmosis. He wanted to hear it from Arthur.

"You're a brilliant pilot."

"I failed the test! Multiple times!"

"Yes, but you passed eventually, right? That's saying something! I never passed!"

"You never took the test."

"But you did, Skip." Arthur leaned forward. "And you didn't stop until you passed."

"Yes, well, it would have been a waste of money if I didn't keep going for it…" Martin said as he looked down at his empty bowl. Why couldn't they have delicious meals like this on GERTI? Surely Arthur could whip something up here and bring it along, especially on cargo flights. He had already had seconds and thought he was being particularly greedy at the time, but Arthur had already finished his fourth round.

"You're also really brilliant. I mean, you know why a plane can leave the ground!"

Martin grinned a little to himself. Why didn't he look to Arthur before for a bit of cheering up? Of course he looked brilliant to Arthur. Everything looked brilliant to Arthur.

But perhaps Arthur was the only one who could find brilliance in Martin, and Martin needed that.

Martin sighed and gathered his dishes to be brought back to the kitchen. It was time for a peaceful rest before they both had to go back to work. "To be fair, Arthur, but you know why a plane can leave the ground, now."

"Nah, I forgot."

Martin had the best sleep of his life during that layover between jobs. The guest bed on which he slept proved to be comfortable and clean and so fluffy Martin could feel himself sink at least a few inches into the mattress before he settled down for a few hours. When the Simpson's alarm on his watch woke him up in the wee hours of the morning, Martin had no trouble rubbing the sleep from his eyes. This rest would probably get him through a few nights worth of terrible rest.

He did, however, have to wake up Arthur. His own uniform and his clothing were still at the Agricultural College, and he needed a ride over to at least pick up his van. Carolyn had been out, probably with Herc, which gave Arthur the full use of her car. However, Martin was not quite sure if Carolyn was back yet, and he felt it would avoid an awkward moment if he snuck out before she noticed.

Martin felt like a secret agent as he dashed about the hall ducking his head quickly through each doorway to make sure the room was empty before he moved onto the next. He crept slowly between rooms, scared to death that he would step on an old, creaky floorboard and wake up the entire neighborhood.

When at last he reached Arthur's bear-filled room, he entered quietly. It was hard to think of a way to wake the sleeping steward without startling him too much. Martin thought briefly about covering his mouth so he couldn't scream, but Arthur's mouth was wide open in a snore, a bit of drool forming at the edge of his lip. He had kicked off the blankets and his limbs were sprawled all over the bed in every which direction.

It was so…. Arthur.

Martin opted to simply creep to the bed and shake a shoulder. When that did not work, he leaned in, whispering loudly, "Arthur!"

Arthur's eyes shot open, but no other muscle in his body even twitched. He lay there, frozen with his eyes wide enough to make perfect circles. "What did I do this time?" His voice was deadpan.

Martin opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water as he fought for words, "You didn't do anything, you—"

"Oh! It's just you, Skip." Arthur had transformed suddenly. His limbs were moving again and he began to sit up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "I thought it was mum trying to tell me I left the stove on. What time is it? Are we late?"

"No, we're not late," Martin said and glanced again at his watch to be sure. "But I need to go back to where my van is. My uniform is there."

"Oh, right, yes. We should get going, then." Arthur stood up and stretched. His white sleeping shirt did not stretch with him, but rather seemed to shrink, exposing his generous midriff. Martin had no idea why he looked, so he turned around briskly.

Martin cleared his throat. "Yes, so it would be better if you changed into uniform, and drove me over."

Martin left to gather his soaked clothing. In a few short moments, both he and Arthur were back in Carolyn's car and on their way to the share house. Martin let Arthur go on ahead of him. He would see him later at the hangar, anyway. He could drive himself in his van, just like always.

Arthur seemed hesitant to go. "We can ride together, you know. I always ride with mum."

"That's because you two live together, and have the one car between you." Martin pointed out. "Go home, you have plenty of time. You can ride up with Carolyn just like always."

"Okay." Arthur momentarily looked like he wanted to hang his head like a beaten dog, but instead he stood up straight and put on his usual cheerful smile. "See you on GERTI, then, eh, Skip?"

"Yeah," Martin smiled, "Yeah, in a bit. And thanks, Arthur, thanks again."

Arthur grinned broadly and got back into his mother's car. He waved hysterically to his captain before leaving, as if this were the last time they would see each other.

Martin turned around and went into the share house, taking the usual route up to his attic room. Arthur wasn't so bad to be around for long lengths of time. In fact, he held quite enjoyable company. After being in the cockpit with Douglas for so long, Martin sometimes held a low opinion of his cabin crew member, but he needed to remind himself almost on a regular basis that when Douglas wasn't around, both he and Arthur were quite capable of managing on their own.

In the days that followed, Martin had a hard time finding ways to talk to Arthur properly. In his mind, he rather wanted to have normal conversations with the steward, but the universe liked to make Martin feel as awkward as possible at every given moment, and he found it nearly impossible.

Why was it so hard to get past the usual greetings? Martin had never had something he could think of as a true friend before. He had Douglas, but he was always trying to seek approval from his first officer, which he thought was rather tiring, but he was fairly certain that Douglas did not think of him as a friend in return. Therefore, Martin had always had a sort of respect for Douglas—the type of respect one would have for a very neat uncle, but never a father. It was also hard to be friends with someone who beat you at everything.

Arthur appeared to want to continue building on his friendship with Martin, as well, but Douglas did not help matters. He had noticed Arthur popping into the flight deck for more reasons than to bring the cheese tray.

One morning, just after Martin had made the cabin address for a rowdy bunch of college students on their way to China to go backpacking along the mountains, the flight deck door opened to reveal one Arthur Shappey.

"Morning chaps!"

Douglas spun around in his seat. "Ah, Arthur! Here with some morning coffee?"

"Oh… no. Should I go make some coffee?"

Douglas looked perplexed. "Is there a more pressing reason that you need to be on the flight deck first thing in the morning without coffee?"

Arthur shifted a little, "Well, I just thought that maybe-"

"That maybe," Douglas drawled, "you should get us some coffee."

Martin felt the need to defend Arthur, a feeling that hadn't yet presented itself fully. "Arthur was just wondering how we would like our coffee this morning, you know, before he made it."

"I'll take mine, the same way I always take it," Douglas said. "Martin, have you become a coffee connoisseur over night?"

Martin pursed his lips. "No, I'll just take my coffee the same way I always take it, Douglas."

"Then Arthur need not worry about deviation from his normal coffee-making routine," Douglas said smoothly before turning back to a rather confused Arthur. "Please, don't let us deter you from your duties, Arthur."

"But Douglas, I really need to speak to the Captain."

"Is there an emergency?"

"Not as such, but-"

"The captain is flying the plane."

"You're the first officer. Can't you fly it for a bit?"

"Well, I can, but the real question is if I will. Arthur, with as much respect as I can give without sounding like myself, if it's not an emergency, the captain should not leave the flight deck."

Martin pulled himself away from absent-mindedly checking all of the dials, to glance at Douglas and mirror Douglas' usual look of sarcasm, "Oh, but I can leave the cabin to look for a lemon."

"That's different."

"How?"

"I said you could."

Martin scoffed. "Well, seeing as I am the captain, and I say I can, I'll just go with Arthur, then. You can take over."

"But…." Arthur cut in, a little timidly, "I don't need you to leave. I just need to talk to you."

"Well, then." Douglas settled himself into his chair. "Whatever it is, you can say it in front of me."

Suddenly, Arthur made a face as the signal came on for him to assist a passenger, "Well I can't now," and he disappeared into the fuselage.

Martin and Douglas exchanged looks. "You seem particularly… you, today," Martin commented.

Douglas turned to the view ahead. The day was drab, a low fog had settled over the land, so it appeared as if they were flying over a vast sea of gray. "It's the weather, Martin. I can't handle cheerfulness right now."

Martin suspected it was something else, but he didn't press. Not today. When Douglas was in a bad mood, it could be bad for everyone. Seeing as this was a flight to Lhasa high on the Tibetan Plateau, and would take over twelve hours to complete, Martin didn't want to spend the next twelve hours in the company of one angry Douglas Richardson. "Ah," was all he said, instead.

The following silence caused the awkwardness to hang in the air worse than the fog over which they were flying. Martin managed to fiddle with the dials so much he could no longer find it credible to continue, so he fussed through the pilot's log, only to find that he had everything so organized, he couldn't do much with it. The silence pounded on his ears to the point that he was certain they were turning as red as his hair.

In frustration, he turned to his first officer and blurted out, "What's making you so mad, Douglas?"

"Why Martin, seeing you writhe over there just about cheered me up."

"Well, that's a relief."

Douglas feigned being hurt. "You can't possibly mean you aren't sympathetic to my plight?"

"I never said anything about your plight, Douglas."

"Well, as it just so happens, you're probably the only person I can talk to about this." Douglas sighed heavily and rubbed his brow in concentration. Martin had never seen Douglas this upset about something since he heard of his fourth wife's infidelity.

Martin raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure whether I should feel flattered or scared."

Douglas gave him that look and Martin gave a little gesture for Douglas to continue in response. "It's my wife."

Martin cringed, a little. He figured as much.

"She's thinking of leaving me, you see."

"For that tai chi instructor?" Martin asked, but immediately wished he hadn't. The look on Douglas' face said everything.

"I should be happy about it," Douglas mused. "At least she is leaving me the house. She's literally leaving me for him. It's a big improvement on my other wives who had me booted from the scene. I won't have to look for a hotel or desperate lodgings this time round."

"I'm so sorry, Douglas." Martin couldn't help but to express his deepest sympathies. Douglas had spoken nothing but good things about his wife, and even though Martin was no expert on the subject, it was clear the first officer loved his significant other with most, if not all of his heart.

"So I can't possibly bear to have anyone be cheerful in my presence, you see."

"It makes perfect sense. I mean, I understand perfectly. Well, no, not that I understand. I can't understand, I've never had a wife, but I can see where you're coming from." Martin stumbled over his words. It was hard to cheer someone else up, especially someone he looked up to as having such a perfect life. To think that Douglas could have problems astonished Martin.

"Oh, Martin," Douglas drawled in that sarcastic manner of his. "You have such a way with words."

"Would you rather play a game to keep your mind off things?" If anything, Douglas could beat Martin in a game of basically anything and he would feel better. Maybe this time Martin wouldn't mind losing, just this once.

"I can't think of anything right now," Douglas muttered.

"Passenger derby?"

"It's too soon in the flight…. And I assume you will object to the Traveling Lemon?"

"Always."

"Then I am afraid we are at an impasse." Douglas lifted his hands in dismay.

At that moment, the cabin door opened and Arthur stuck his head in again. "Am I allowed to talk to the captain, yet?" he asked.

Before Douglas could reply, Martin spun around. "Yes, Arthur, what is it?"

"Oh, um, I was wondering if, maybe, you would like to go sightseeing with me," He said, and then added, for clarity, "When we get to Lhasa." Arthur had a rather hopeful look on his face.

"Why Arthur!" Douglas interjected. "Are you asking Martin out on a date?"

"No!" Arthur did his best to look dignified. "It's just, we'll be there for a few days since we haven't anything booked until the students have their return flight, and we'd be awfully bored if we just sat around with old GERTI all day, right?"

"Yes, but Martin?"

"-HEY!"

Arthur frowned. "Well, you wouldn't want to come with us."

"I'm hurt, Arthur." Douglas frowned. "You would leave me all by my lonesome?"

"Well, mum will be here."

"I am positively teeming with delight."

"Well, all right, Douglas, if you want to come, you can," Arthur said.

Douglas grinned. "I am so thankful for your permission."

Martin stepped in, "What Douglas means—" and he gave his first officer a sharp stare, "is that we would both love to see the sights with you, Arthur. You can be in charge of the itinerary!"

"But—" Douglas started.

"BRILLIANT!" Arthur declared.

"It's settled," Martin smiled, and Arthur all but skipped out the door, again.

Martin looked at Douglas with what he hoped was a look of satisfaction, but it disappeared the moment he saw Douglas laughing. Martin frowned.

"You look happy," Douglas crooned.

Martin looked taken aback. "I do?"

Douglas made another check on their position in a way that Martin was sure was staged for effect. "Well, yes, especially since he forgot our coffee."