It's been too long since I last updated - nearly a week since the other fic, even longer for this one. I've been experiencing uni for the first time, and I've been so emotionally and mentally drained by trying to socialise with strangers that I've been struggling to find time to write this. But, I should have more time now, and even though it might be a while, I will always update at some point.
Chapter Four
Humming a lilting tune under her breath, and tying her hair back and out of the way, Deborah knelt beside the oven to retrieve the six or seven scolding trays in her glove clad hands, placing them on the counter just to the side. It was a reasonably cool day, but the pulsing heat from the oven was still a tad stifling from the floor; it was worth the minute discomfort for the sake of the quaint little cakes that all glistened in the bands of light from the window.
Martin was away on a van job, so Deborah had the flat to herself to experiment; nevertheless, he needed to be there for the last stage of her task. It was something to do though, baking, and something that she didn't often have time to indulge in; tomorrow was a special occasion though, so today was the day for special activities.
There were just a few more things to sort out before Martin came home; they were small touches, but highly significant, Deborah thought. Blowing across the top of the cakes, Deborah pushed the gloves from her hands and abandoned them on the counter, before turning and wandering lazily through to the sitting room, plucking her phone from where she had flung it onto the coffee table.
Pressing the device to her ear, Deborah inspected her nails and glanced protectively back into the kitchen as the dial tone rang dully and monotonously, cutting off with a click and a crackle.
"Deborah. What do you want on your day off?" Carolyn's voice rattled down the line, as sharp and disinterested as always, though perhaps not as world weary; it must have been a restful day so far, "The day off that you have been nagging me about for the best part of a month."
"Yes, hello Carolyn; always a pleasure." Deborah drawled, dropping down to lie back on the sofa, kicking her feet up on the coffee table, as she had been careful not to do when Martin was around to scold her for it; this was too important an occasion, and she had spent too long planning, for her to bother arguing, "I wanted to talk about tomorrow."
"We're flying to Budapest tomorrow." Carolyn replied matter-of-factly; she was being helpful, which was something, Deborah supposed, as the woman could just have easily have disregarded her request and obstructed her attempts at polite conversation, as she was wont to do, "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to expand upon that matter."
"I meant after the flight." Deborah reiterated, picking at the corner of her thumb as she stared at the corner of the coffee table, shifting her feet and focusing on the call; the flight would be easy, and Martin would enjoy it, it was just the rest of the day that needed arranging, "Don't tell me that you've forgotten its Martin's birthday tomorrow?"
"How could I?" Carolyn sighed, and it was easy to imagine her rolling her eyes and groaning, as Deborah smirked at the idea, "That's just one more thing that you've been nagging me about."
"With good reason." Deborah remarked, smiling to herself as a warm fluttering filled her chest; it had been hard work, sneaking around and swearing Arthur to secrecy was worth it, especially given how well Martin was going to react when she unveiled her efforts.
"Hmmm…" Carolyn hummed down the line; that wasn't assent, but it wasn't a flat out refusal to hear her suggestions either, so all was still up in the air, so to speak, "Well, as you know, I don't partake in all of these birthday traditions that you three are so fond of."
"Unless of course you're the one receiving the gifts." Deborah retorted smoothly, awaiting the inevitable backlash; she could recall Arthur's failed attempt to surprise his mother with the unwanted appearance of his aunt very well. It was a day that none of them were likely to forget…the memory of Martin bruised and squealing simultaneously made her wince and smile reluctantly.
"I'm not about to turn down gifts that you've all spent time and effort on." Carolyn replied curtly, her hypocrisy bleeding through; it was good to hear that she was in a good mood, despite having her day off disturbed, "Not that you or Martin have ever put that effort in."
"Arthur is celebratory enough for all of us." Deborah countered wanly, pushing a hand through her hair; it was true, Arthur had been close to bursting for at least a week now, despite his duties being simple and fairly insignificant, and there being no real reason for imaginative endeavour. It was nice to have someone in on her schemes though, so Deborah had hushed him up and let him go about his own business.
"Exactly, hence why if anything is provided for tomorrow, it will be Arthur's creation, not mine." Carolyn remarked dryly; the idea of Carolyn providing special circumstances for Martin had never entered Deborah's mind.
"Arthur said he was bringing decent food for the flight, just to make it special." Deborah explained, deliberately clinging to the hope that everything would run smoothly, but knowing that with Arthur's involvement, it probably wouldn't; she couldn't be sure, but that sentiment probably leeched into her dull tone of voice, "Normally I'd be worried, but I gave him a list of things Martin particularly likes, so he can't deviate too much."
"Then why are you calling me?" Carolyn inquired, the exasperation in her tone wild and evident, "I would have assumed, given the state of your relationship, that you would be seeing to any 'celebrations'."
"Oh, believe me I am." Deborah drawled, smirking at the audible huff and wince from the other end of the line; for all that she used her crew as pawns in her odd relationship with Herc, Carolyn was still beautifully disgusted by the fluffy interactions between her pilots, "However, I thought it might be nice, so long as you haven't made other plans, if the four of us hunted down a restaurant in Budapest and had a sort of…company meal."
"You think that the one thing Martin will want, after spending his birthday in a flying metal tube with us, is to spend even more time in our presence?" Carolyn clarified, sounding unconvinced despite the ingenuity of the plan; if it had been four, perhaps even three years ago, Deborah might have agreed with the sentiment.
"No. I think that Martin will love being the centre of attention, and feeling as if we all care." Deborah answered honestly, swallowing the temptation to play it cool and aloof; sitting on the sofa and behaving like a guard dog watching her cakes was hardly a position to be in when pretending not to care, "I will of course be making his day and night as…enjoyable as possible, but I think that the four of us going out to dinner is important."
"Oh, if you say so." Carolyn groaned, and Deborah couldn't help but grin triumphantly; there was no doubt however that she would try and receive some sort of quid pro quo, "Deborah, I-"
Mercifully though, the sound of the front door clicking and swishing open alerted Deborah to the entrance that she had missed, presumably too distracted to have heard the rumbling of the van; turning to peer over the back of the sofa, Deborah smiled warmly at the sight of Martin shirking his coat and kicking the door closed with the back of his foot, and pressed the warm plastic of the phone more tightly against her ear, sucking her head so that he wouldn't see it when he turned around.
"Got to go, Martin's home." Deborah whispered hastily, and with that she hung up, dropping the phone onto the cushions beside her and leaping to her feet, plastering on a genuinely welcoming expression; pleasured even further by the reflexive smile and the flush in Martin's cheeks, she strode across the room to meet him, flinging her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close enough that she could feel the warmth of his chest against hers, and press a kiss to his cheek before resting her own against it, "Martin, darling, how was your day?"
"It was alright I suppose…better now that I'm home." Martin replied, his voice low and pleasantly surprised as his arms wound around her, and he hugged her close, the palm of his hand pressing and rubbing circles at her back between her shoulder blades; Deborah didn't think that she would ever grow tired of the charming little sparks of happiness that flickered from her stomach to her lungs at the sensation of being tucked and curled around him, even as Martin leant back just so and remarked, "Why do I get the feeling you've done something that you don't want me to know about?"
"On the contrary, I'm simply pleased to see you." Deborah purred, leaning back enough that she could rest the curves of her arms around Martin's shoulders, and meet his blue eyes, take in the attractive red flush at him cheeks as his lips curled, and he held her close and comfortably; with all of her celebratory scheming, Deborah had found herself caught by a wonderful tumult of affection that had carried her throughout the week, but made it hard to let him walk out the door on jobs when she was craving his company so, "I've missed you today; barely stopped thinking about you."
"Oh, you really are in a good mood." Martin remarked, scrunching his nose as he dipped his chin down to press his lips to hers, and Deborah responded in kind, enjoying the intimacy; after a moment, she realised that he wasn't just making adorable faces, but was in fact sniffing the air, his eyes wandering over her shoulders and towards the kitchen, "Have you been cooking?"
"Baking in fact; very different." Deborah corrected him, smirking at the way his eyebrows pinched and he tried to peer into the kitchen; after indulging in one last kiss, Deborah slapped her palms gently against Martin's shoulders, and took a step back, taking his hand and pulling him in her wake across the room, relieved to finally be able to take the last steps in her plans, "Come and have a look."
Martin allowed Deborah to lead him into the kitchen, trotting behind her and nosing over her shoulder, sniffing loudly as he inspected the neat rows of fairy cakes, still nestled in their baking trays; the interested glitter in his widening eyes was more rewarding than the perfectly shaped and risen fruits of her labours.
"Wow…someone's been busy." Martin whistled through his teeth, and reached out as if to poke at one of the larger cakes, and then hastily withdrew his hand and smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hands together; his other arm rested at Deborah's back, tracing idle circles on her back, "Not that I'm complaining…but why do we need this many fairy cakes?"
"Because, I need to work out what type of cake you prefer." Deborah explained proudly, cherishing the surprise that flashed across Martin's face, and the small bright sound that squeaked in his throat; it was nice this, discovering new kinks in their relationship that they hadn't covered yet, and then smoothing them out, "I can't bake you the perfect cake each year if I don't know which is your favourite."
"Oh, Deborah." Martin exclaimed, as if he couldn't be sure whether to be exasperated or flattered, as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck; either way, it wasn't hard to see the appreciation shining wetly in his eyes, even as he leaned his head against the top of hers, "You didn't have to go to all this trouble; we're going to be on GERTI for most of tomorrow anyway."
"Which is exactly why we need cake to cheer us up." Deborah remarked brightly, gazing up at his face; perhaps she was just in a particularly good mood, but Martin did look handsome today, a bit red faced and worn from a long day's lifting and lugging furniture, "Besides, I've been on my own all day with nothing to do; it was this, or rearranging your bookcase."
"No, you mustn't do that." Martin muttered distractedly, still wavering between touching and not touching her handiwork; if he had been a dog, his mouth would have been watering with desire, "Mmm, they smell delicious."
"They should all taste delicious." Deborah drawled, grinning as she leaned into his embrace and pressed her lips to his shoulder; then she stepped away and waved her hand over the various trays, getting down to business, "What I've done, is made three cakes for each consistency – sponge, madeira, you get the picture. Within each consistency, I've made three different mystery flavours, of which you need to choose one."
"So you want me to eat all of these cakes so that you know which one I like best?" Martin inquired, coyly, as if he were being offered a holy grail that he wasn't allowed to possess, his eyes flickering between Deborah and the cakes; a small smirk crept onto his lips, indicating a job well done, "Are we forgoing real food today?"
"It is your birthday tomorrow." Deborah reminded him, as if he hadn't been jittering in anticipation for days already; it was always fun to lead Martin from the path of the righteous and into the waters of playfulness, "I think we can get away with eating a lot of cake for dinner tonight. Right – onto the tasting. And, rest assured, although I used my grandmother's recipes for some of these, I made sure to leave out the almonds."
There were many things that they still needed to learn, but a lot that they didn't; Deborah had paid enough attention to Martin's comings and goings to know that giving him almonds was tantamount to signing his death sentence – or, that had been the message that she had received from the way that he had panicked the first and only time he had been exposed to them on board GERTI.
"Thank you…" Martin sighed, his expression softening as he pulled Deborah close and hugged her tightly; anyone would think that such a simple consideration was the greatest gesture of love that he had ever been given, as when he pulled away, his eyes never left her face, and his voice was filled with something akin to reverence, "I love you."
"You haven't tasted them yet." Deborah retorted fondly, and with that she pushed him away with a gentle hand, fighting a laugh that pricked at the corners of her lips.
From there the afternoon washed away, in tides of laughter, as Deborah lifted each cake daintily to Martin's lips, only to have him grapple it from her and bring it to hers, forcing her to taste everything that she foisted on him; laughing turned to giggling and playful struggling, and before either of them knew it, they were giggling and toppling into bed, frightfully happy with the world.
oOoOoOo
Predictably, or at least it should have been, the flight to Budapest didn't go according to plan; in reality, Deborah's plans for a smooth, Martin-pleasing flight, should never have even formed what with her prior knowledge of how their life worked. It was interesting though, and it wouldn't have been a good MJN flight without something going wrong; the only way that things could have been worse was if they had had passengers.
About an hour into the air, during a comfortable lull in the game that Deborah had struck up, Martin sat up a little straighter in his seat, and pushed his hat back atop his head, scrunching his nose up as he sniffed, and looked around at the controls and over his shoulder. Deborah shifted slightly, unhooking one leg from over the other and losing the relaxation in her shoulders so that she would be able to react if she had to, though she doubted that anything serious was occurring, as Martin was quick to fret.
"Can you…can you smell smoke?" Martin asked, still peering around the flight-deck, almost clambering over the side of his seat in his search for the elusive scent; his expression pinched into an odd blend of perplexed nervousness, "That is smoke that I can smell – not – no, I'm not imagining it."
"Hold on." Deborah sighed, resting both of her hands on the arms of her seat, and inhaling deeply just to placate him; GERTI was always alerting them to things that weren't really happening, so she doubted that there was anything truly wrong while the lights were all dim, and the warnings silent…or so she had thought, "Yes, I actually can." It was faint, but it was definitely there, the ashy odour that couldn't possibly be mistaken; Deborah's eyebrows knitted, as she ran her eyes over the corners of the flight-deck, ignoring Martin's flailing at her side, " That's weird."
"Forget weird!" Martin squawked, inhaling sharply and glaring at her; he really was an overly dramatic worrier, "Where's it coming from?"
"I don't know." Deborah replied honestly, refreshingly bewildered by the inexplicable smell of smoke that was nonetheless drifting around the small space; she reached forwards, shifting to perch more efficiently in her seat, and pressing and turning the controls, pursing her lips in confusion, "The controls are all working…we're flying normally…it's just smoke."
While Deborah jabbed idly at the controls, tapping here and there, adjusting the altitude and speed just to test that everything was in fact in order, Martin flicked the switch for the intercom.
"Arthur, are you cooking something?" Martin demanded perhaps a little too harshly, though that could be excused given that he was actually investigating instead of panicking, as he might have once upon a time.
"No." Arthur sounded the perfectly normal approximation of confused, so there couldn't have been anything going wrong in the Cabin; Deborah took this as her cue to continue waggling the controls to see if any of them provided an explanation, "Would you like me to? I'm sure there's something in the Galley."
"No, thank you Arthur." Martin sighed, and as he flicked the intercom off, he slumped back in his seat and went to push a hand through his hair, knocking his hat back in the process; the weight of the world might as well have settled on his shoulders, "Well, that's it; we're going to have to ditch in somewhere."
"For once, Captain, I agree wholeheartedly." Deborah murmured, barely catching the throaty noise that Martin made which indicated his surprise; no matter how much she batted at the controls, and twisted this and that, she couldn't work out where the smoke was coming from, it was maddening, "Would you like me to contact ATC?"
"No it's alright, I've got it." Martin replied wanly; the despair in his voice and the slump in his shoulders survived throughout the entirety of his conversation with ATC, and all the way through the adjustment of their course to the nearest airport.
"Stop wobbling the controls!" Martin snapped after watching Deborah do just that for five minutes more; she sat back, lifting her hands into the air and raising her eyebrows at him, which was enough to make Martin groan and grimace apologetically at her, "I can't believe it – today of all days; it just wouldn't be my birthday without something going wrong."
"I'm sorry darling." Deborah remarked, dropping her arm across the gap between them to brush the backs of her knuckles against his; as Martin nodded, she plastered on a coy smirk, eager to resurrect the mood as quickly as possible, "As soon as night falls I'll make sure to have things go very right."
"Thank you, dear." Martin murmured, clumsily batting her hand in an attempt to wind his fingers around hers; if anything, the way that he tried to smile, and gazed warmly, longingly into Deborah's eyes, was enough to make up for the sour turn that his mood had taken.
It made her feel as if she were the one bright spot in the cloudy mess of Martin's day…and that was rather nice.
oOoOoOo
Martin had been a bit…off since his birthday; nothing bad, and nothing particularly worrying…it just seemed harder to maintain a conversation with him lately, and while he was happy to sit with his arm around Deborah's shoulders, or curled around her, he would drift off as if in thought, his hands rapping, jittering, on whatever was within his reach.
That was alright though; if Martin needed his peace every now and again, then Deborah was as willing to give him that as he was willing to allow her time to ruminate occasionally. They simply functioned that way; most of the time they were inseparable, sometimes bickering enough so that there was never a lack of passionate affection when the bickering stopped, as if to make up for what they had missed…but every now and then it was nice to be near each other, but to have just enough time to themselves that they didn't quite start to miss each other.
So today, when Martin had dropped down behind his desk to sort out his log book and whatever other paperwork he found in the works, Deborah had dropped a kiss on his cheek and given his shoulders a squeeze, before letting him be and retreating back to GERTI, where Arthur was still clearing up after their previous flight.
"So what are you up to tonight?" Deborah inquired lazily, lounging on the reclined seat of Row A, and watching Arthur push his vacuum cleaner up and down the aisle in short truncated sweeps; she had been trying especially hard not to let herself become too detached from what was going on in Arthur's life since she and Martin had become more involved in each other; as her oldest friend, it would have been wrong of her to neglect him, "Feet up, or the thrilling night life of Fitton?"
"Um, that depends on what Mum's doing." Arthur replied, shrugging as he glanced over his shoulder; Deborah quirked her eyebrows, and he elaborated further, "She's been a bit down lately, because Herc's too busy to really talk – but don't tell her I said that."
"I see." Deborah hummed, nodding sagely; Carolyn could prevaricate all she liked, there was no denying that she was attached to Herc, and still missing him for every day that he was still in Switzerland, "You've come up with a plan to cheer her up then?"
"Oh, yeah!" Arthur assured her, turning and heading back towards her, pushing the vacuum cleaner in front of him; he had to raise his voice over the rattling and whirring screech, but that didn't temper his confidence, "The amateur dramatic society in Fitton's putting on a play tonight, one of the gory ones that Mum likes, so I thought I'd get her to go to that with me."
"Perhaps…" Deborah replied uncertainly, pursing her lips as she tried to imagine Carolyn watching the youth and elderly of Fitton prancing about on a makeshift stage; it would have been humorous if she hadn't been sure that the repercussions would fall upon them the next day, "I'm sure the gore with make up for the rather amateur aspect of the performance. In fact, I don't think anything would cheer Carolyn up like the sight of amateur actors getting murdered."
"Yeah, she likes that sort of thing." Arthur agreed thoughtfully, he turned off the cleaner with a click, and as Deborah's ears adjusted to the ringing silence, stood it up to prop himself up on, and turned his attention back to her, "Have you not got anything planned then?"
"Not that I'm aware of." Deborah admitted dryly, doing nothing to adjust her slouch; when Martin was finished with his paperwork, then she would move, but until then, nothing could move her from the slither of comfort that she had managed to discover on the plane, "Why?"
"No reason." Arthur answered, a little too quickly, his eyes darting across the floor; he really was a terrible liar, his face going a funny red colour even now, "It's just, I'm hovering, and you're still here. Which is brilliant, but I'd have thought that you'd be in the porta-cabin with Skip, or going home with him, or…I don't know; not still on the plane though."
"I thought I'd let Martin do his paperwork in peace." Deborah sighed, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly and smiling thinly; it wasn't exactly an inconvenience, so there was no real reason to feel dejected or bored.
"That's nice of you." Arthur remarked, nodding slowly; a moment of silence stretched between them, in which Deborah simply hummed her agreement, and Arthur's expression shifted into something that might have been concern, as he shifted to stand a little straighter, peering at down Deborah, "Are you alright? It's just, I was waiting for you to say something then, but you didn't."
"I'm fine, it's just…" Deborah thought about lying and brushing off the inquiry, but then something in her throat caught, and she couldn't; there was no point lying to Arthur, and it wouldn't hurt to share the thoughts that hadn't quite made it to the light yet, "I've been giving Martin a lot of peace recently. I'm actually starting to miss him."
"But you see him at home?" Arthur asked, as if that solved everything; in his world, it probably did.
"Yes, of course I do." Deborah replied nonchalantly, curling her arms around her middle as she settled more comfortably into the reclining seat; it was entirely true that she and Martin were joined at the hip, so she didn't really have anything to be complaining about, "But he's been…distracted, I suppose. He's perfectly affectionate, I just miss the banter."
"Do you think something's happened?" Arthur's voice lowered into a conspiratorial hush that on any other day might have been amusing, but today was just about right; Deborah couldn't deny that the thought had crossed her mind once or twice, in her darker moments, with nothing to distract her.
"It might have." Deborah muttered, tipping her head back so that she could inspect the dusty curve of the ceiling; Martin was trustworthy though, so she had nothing to worry about, "But if it were a matter of life and death, he'd have told me by now. I'm sure that everything will be okay in a while; it's just waiting for that while to pass that's not so fun."
"Oh…" it was clear that Arthur didn't know what to make of that, but as always, his relentless faith in the world carried him through to a smile, and he patted the vacuum cleaner for emphasis as he reassured her, "I'm sure everything's fine."
Before Deborah had time to do much more than quirk her eyebrows in a facsimile of acceptance, the Cabin door creaked open, letting in the hazy wash of early evening sky, and the reasonably smart cut of the Captain, his uniform pulled neatly around his shoulders and his hat clasped in his hands; Deborah noticed immediately that Martin wasn't quite himself, the absence of his hat on his head being the first indicator, so pulled her seat upright the moment that she laid eyes on him, and waited for his head to stop darting this way and that in search of her.
"There you are." Martin panted when his eyes fell upon Deborah's expectant expression, as if he had been jogging up the metal steps to try and find her; he was probably just anxious to go home, having noticed that she hadn't I fact waited in the porta-cabin (so distracted had he been before), "I was wondering where you'd got to."
"Well, now you've found me." Deborah remarked brightly, pleased to see that Martin had returned to the land of the aware and undistracted; she swung her legs down onto the floor, and rose to her feet, just as Martin stepped forwards to stand beside Row A, helping her up with a hand dropped to his side, "Are you ready to go?"
"Yep – I-I mean, yes and no…" Martin replied, and he tried to smile, a charming scarlet flush seeping into his cheeks, as his hands wandered through the air, eventually landing on Deborah's back; he jittered as if he were caught between dissolving into a cuddle and leading her away, completely oblivious to Arthur's presence, as his eyes never left her face, "Come on, we can talk on the way back to the car."
"Alright, have it your way." Deborah feigned an exasperated sigh, but allowed Martin to turn clumsily on his heel and take her by the hand, gripping perhaps a tad too tightly; before they could make it through the doors, she tugged in return and called over her shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow Arthur; have fun tonight."
"Okay, you too." Arthur replied, waving quickly and grinning as he watched them disappear; Deborah couldn't even see him anymore when he raised his voice and shouted cheerfully in their wake, "Bye Skip."
"Goodbye Arthur." Martin practically yelled, though his tone was so automatic that Deborah wasn't sure he had heard anything at all, and that he wasn't simply functioning on auto-pilot; it wasn't until they were at the bottom of the steps that Martin even slowed, so that he could shrug his jacket more tightly around his chest against the faint breeze, and grimace apologetically at Deborah.
"You don't want to go home then?" Deborah inquired, arching her eyebrows and trying not to smirk fondly as she hooked her arm through his, and Martin slipped his hands into his pockets, allowing her to start up a slow pace towards the car-park; it didn't take more than a glance at his cheeks, flushed enough that the freckles almost faded into the soft angles of his face, and the fluttering of his eyes, to know that he was nervous about something.
"Um, no – I thought we could do something romantic." Martin replied brightly, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth and stumbling slightly as he turned to face her while walking; he raised his free palm into the air, as if he were proposing a project of some sort, "N-not a date, or anything like that, just something nice, l-like when we go up on the roof of the porta-cabin."
"It's a bit too damp to be going up there tonight; but it's a lovely idea." Deborah remarked, giving the idea serious consideration, and leaning into Martin's side just a tad; after a week or so of detachment, this sudden lathering of attention was enough to warm the strings in her chest, "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"I don't know. I um, I didn't really think that far ahead – it was a spur of the moment idea." Martin laughed apologetically, more of a nervous chuckle really; his fingers were winding anxiously around hers, shifting and bumping their knuckles together, "Where do you want to go? If you could go anywhere – w-within reason, a-and within a twenty mile radius."
"There's a park in the next town that I've always wanted to visit." Deborah mused, unable to keep the warm smile from rippling onto her lips and infecting her whole expression, as she hummed affectionately and leaned into the comfortable warmth of Martin beside her; this was nice…surprising, but nice…"It's supposed to be beautiful; a designated area of natural beauty actually."
"I didn't know that." Martin murmured, pausing in his stride sharply enough that Deborah was only saved from tripping by his grip on her hand; when she looked up into his eyes, it was to find him surveying her with an odd expression, his brow furrowed in what might have been curiosity, "Why haven't you mentioned that before?"
"It's never seemed particularly important." Deborah replied honestly, shrugging her shoulders and putting just enough weight on Martin's arm that he started walking across the tarmac once more; with everything else that had happened between them, the past year and a bit had passed in a haze of getting things right, and insignificant trifles had been the last thing on Deborah's mind.
"But you've never been on your own?" Martin asked, in the same tone of voice that he might have used if he had been asked whether he had ever shown an interest in planes; as the sort of man that would happily trot around Duxford on his own, he had never seemed to understand Deborah's tendency to withhold herself from the things that she enjoyed.
"I don't know about you, darling, but I've always thought that there was something quite sad about visiting parks on one's own." Deborah drawled, smirking when she heard Martin snort at her side; she was the sort of person to relax at home, but when out of the house, everything had a purpose, and was structured for appearance's sake.
"Yes, it is a bit." Martin chuckled, then his eyes widened, and his cheeks managed to turn an ever darker shade of red, as he hastily tried to amend his previous statement; Deborah could only hold in a giggle at his efforts, "Not that you're sad – you're not – I'll…I'll stop now."
oOoOoOo
The park really was beautiful, especially in the near night air, with quaint little lamps posted along the footpaths to ensure that its guests remained illuminated at all times; thrilling adventures were alright, but every now and then Deborah couldn't help but be charmed by the blankets of intricately arranged flowers and trees, and the overall impression of a fairy-tale devised for the sake of dog walkers and adolescents sneaking away from their homes.
As the sky washed from a pale blend into a dark mass spackled by pricks of light and muggy wisps of cloud cover, and Deborah's feet began to ache just a tad, they found a bench that wasn't vandalised or occupied, between the tree line and a small approximation of a lake; it was there, sat back comfortably with Martin's arm around her waist, her head resting against his shoulder, wonderfully surrounded by the warmth of his form and his attention, that Deborah felt her mind laying down to rest after a week of wondering and worrying.
"This is lovely." Deborah murmured, inhaling deeply as she felt the zip of Martin's jacket brushing against her cheek, and his breath against her hair; they didn't even have to be doing anything in particular for this to be pleasant…it was just good to be close to someone who understood and appreciated her.
"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Martin agreed, a low noise in the base of his throat, as his hand curled reflexively around her waist; he was still fidgeting and jittering against her, but he had barely said a word of nervousness, so Deborah didn't bother to find out what was bothering him. He would tell her when he was ready.
"Well, don't take all of the credit; coming here was my idea." Deborah purred, letting her eyes trace the slightly grimy veneer of the water of the lake; she had to give him some credit though, for taking the initiative, "I am glad that you suggested an outing though."
"Hmmm…." Martin hummed happily, his chest rumbling pleasantly against Deborah's side; then his eyes widened, and his eyebrows dipped; he shifted so that he could look her in the eyes, "Wait, hold on - there was a tone there, there was definitely a tone."
"No tone…I cross my heart." Deborah promised, playfully pouting her lips and making a little crossing motion over her chest; Martin's eyes continued to trace over the lines of her face, so she sighed, and indulged his interest, "It's just…you've seemed quite distracted lately, and I've let you be; it's nice to be away from home and without distractions. It's nice to have all of your attention."
"You've always got my attention." Martin replied determinedly, but he blinked sheepishly, pressing his lips together as he finally tore his eyes from her face to look over the lake; he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he spoke, finally explaining the question that Deborah hadn't asked, but had been dying to, "I…I'll admit, I have been a bit…I've been doing my own thing, but I have been thinking of you, all the time."
"You know, instead of thinking about me, you could be with me." Deborah suggested coyly, batting her eyelashes at him, making him blush all the more as his arm fidgeted around her waist; she was relieved that there was nothing truly wrong, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy teasing him, "It's just as pleasant, I assume."
"Of course, I'd rather be with you." Martin retorted hastily, his lips curling into a smile that he seemed too nervous to maintain, ducking his head down as of to hide his face; Deborah allowed a few inches of space to appear between them, though Martin's arm remained a comforting presence around her waist, "But I…I-I needed to be thinking and working things out these past few weeks, so I-I-I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you, I haven't been trying to, I-"
"You haven't been neglecting me; it's been peaceful." Deborah assured him softly, letting her hand drop down to rest upon his knee, squeezing gently, "Is there something wrong? Something that I can help with perhaps?"
"No, nothing's wrong." Martin shook his head, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes; without another word, his hand stopped jittering, and he pulled Deborah closed with the arm around her waist, resting his cheek against the top of her head, letting whole minutes of silence pass by, and her guard drop back down into calm, before asking in a tone of voice that barely rose above a whisper, "Hey, Deborah?"
"Yes Martin?" Deborah replied, just as quietly, cocking her eyebrows even though Martin couldn't see the motion.
"I…I need to talk to you." Martin remarked, stammering and swallowing hard enough that Deborah could hear his throat bobbing nervously; Deborah turned obediently as Martin pulled back from her, so that he could look her in the eye, "I-it's nothing bad, i-it's just…it's important, so um…" he began arranging himself, turning so that their knees knocked, and he could take both of her hands in his, grasping tightly enough that it might have stung if Deborah hadn't been so intrigued, "Come here, like that…there…here we go."
"Are you alright?" Deborah inquired, attempting to decipher the emotion in Martin's eyes, ignoring the loose strands of hair that fell into her line of sight as her hands were unavailable to clear her field of vision; it had been a while since Martin had been so…pent up, and that was troubling.
"I am – I-I'm fine." Martin nodded quickly, stumbling over his words; something about the way that he looked at her made little moths whirl in Deborah's chest, but they were tempered with trepidation, "I just…I just wanted to ask whether, um…" Martin ducked his head again, and shook his head, flushing and biting down on his bottom lip, "No, hold on, this isn't working – come back, it was better like this."
Moving jerkily, Martin released Deborah's hands and shuffled back to her side, winging his arm around her waist as before and tugging her close, embracing her, clinging despite his deliberate positioning, facing steadfastly forwards; it was enough to elate the hardness in her guts and made Deborah laugh and relax into his hold.
"Ah, there's the perfectionist I love, Captain." Deborah drawled, shifting so that her arm lay along his, and she could slip her fingers into the gaps between his at her waist; this didn't explain what he was up to though, "What are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything – there!" Martin exclaimed suddenly, when their position was perfect in his opinion, though Deborah couldn't pinpoint what it was that he had perfected; it might have been that she could now see his face and look into his eyes, which were darting here there and everywhere as he stuttered, "Alright…okay…fine, this is fine…o-kay…"
"Martin, darling, calm down." Deborah instructed sternly, forcing herself not to smirk at Martin's typical floundering; something was going on in his head, but she couldn't begin to imagine what it was, "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know." Martin replied, more certainly than before, almost stilling and nodding as if to himself; this confidence lasted all of a fraction of a second, before he was shuddering again, his words tumbling over one another, "Debs- Deborah…I…h-h-how would you feel i-i-if I, um, if I were to, um, howouldyoufeelifiaskyoutomarme!"
"I'm sorry?" Deborah remarked, her brow knitting as she ran her eyes over his face, shifting away so that she didn't have to tip her head back; she was used to having things blurted at her, but this was a particularly vivid example of Martin's way with words.
"How…would you feel…" Martin repeated, his voice shaking more than his hands seemed to be against his knees, while he steadied himself, and bit down on his lip, his eyes boring into Deborah's; it was his 'Captain' face, that he donned when the alarms blared and he had to make a command decision, "i-if I asked you to marry me?"
"Martin…" Deborah could hardly let out a breath of air, as she felt her expression wash clean of everything, and her eyes open wide, as she blinked slowly at him; her heart seemed to stutter to a halt, caught off guard by the rush of hot and cold flutters that raged in her lungs, and made her mind freeze like a tape at the end of its reel.
Understanding arrived within a matter of seconds, but processing Martin's request tool moments more, as Deborah was overwhelmed with a rush of emotion, raw thrill and glittering joy shimmering through her veins and making her eyes prickle, a lump form in her throat. She had known that this might come, one day, they had spoken about this sort of thing; Deborah knew that Martin wanted her indefinitely…but this was…different…beautifully, wonderfully different, and she needed to get her head in gear.
"You don't have to answer me now." Martin assured her hastily, raising his hands into the air as if in surrender; his jaw was trembling as he spoke, and his eyes looked as damp as Deborah's felt.
"Oh, darling…" was all that Deborah could say, as she reflexively laid her hand over her chest, as if to pin down the flurry of affection that surged in her lungs; Martin had told her, a long time ago, that he would ask permission before doing anything like this, but she hadn't anticipated how his coy professionalism would impossibly make her love him even more than she already did.
"That's um, that's not an answer." Martin murmured, almost as if he was afraid to do so; he stared down at his lap, his eyes flickering up to meet hers every now and again, as his hands wound together.
"No, of course it's not." Deborah let out a truncated laugh that could have been a dry sob, and Martin lifted his head, a smile appearing on his lips as if the sound of her amusement was infectious; she could barely raise her voice beyond a breathy sigh as she said, "I…I think I'd be alright with that, if you wanted to ask me."
"Yes?" Martin's expression was so full of hope, and he leaned into her space, until their forehead could have touched if he moved much closer; it felt like balancing on a ledge, over which there was only absolutely wonderful things.
"Yes." Deborah replied, and she couldn't hold Martin's gaze, in case the pricking at her eyes became something more; nevertheless, a grin crept its way across her lips, and she slipped her hands across the space between them to take Martin's and curl her fingers around his, like an anchor.
"Oh, that uh, that wasn't the proposal!" Martin amended sharply, his voice shrill and sudden, as if he had been electrocuted; he gripped her hands though, even as his chest heaved and he flushed charmingly, "I-I-I-I wanted to ask you if you were okay with that, and then I was going to go and do it properly, with a ring, and a proper location, and-"
"Martin, this is fine." Deborah chuckled, shaking her head and grinning down at their joined hands; of course he couldn't just let things be, he had a plan, and he was sticking to it…she didn't know what she would have done if he hadn't been so strict…cried probably...laughter was better.
"No, it's not-" Martin started, but he cut himself off as Deborah batted him with the back of her hand, and he caught sight, as if for the first time, of the unfaltering smile that stretched across her face.
"I don't need a proper location, or a ring." Deborah assured him, taking a deep breath and steadying herself, closing her eyes for just a moment, so that she could eradicate the park and the night sky, and just commit the red faced hope on Martin's face; when she opened them again, he was still looking at her just as indulgently, "This is fine, I like this."
"Yeah…yes, I, yes, alright…" Martin conceded, a wobbly smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and lighting up his face, as he took back Deborah's hands and leaned into her space, still shaking, "Wow, okay, wow…so is this a proposal then? Are we getting engaged?"
"I don't know?" Deborah laughed, shaking her head; it felt like being lost at sea, but fantastically so, with the one person that she couldn't live without, however much he flailed and stammered, "It's your show Martin."
"Right…right…um…I've got this!" Martin declared, and with that he sat back and slid from the bench, stumbling as he tried to drop onto his knee, having to grasp at Deborah's knees to keep himself upright; trembling and taking deep breaths, he ran his eyes over her face, then down to his hands, as which point he still, and then beamed, and began working his father's signet ring from his right hand, "This is…this might work until I can get a proper one."
"No, Martin, this is good." Deborah interrupted him, reaching forwards and wrapping her hands around his, holding him until he stilled, and the fight left his expression; financial worries aside…Martin was almost surgically attached to that ring…if he was prepared to give it to her for any length of time…that was more of a gesture than anything she had ever received, "This is…this is perfect, I like this. I love you."
"Alright…" Martin nodded decidedly, and his jaw set; taking one last breath, Martin held the ring out to her, glanced at the ground as if it were doing him a personal injustice by seeping dampness into his trousers, and then lifted his chin to meet her eyes, "Deborah…will you marry me – if you want to – o-or, no, not or – will you marry me – there, that one, that was good."
"That was good; very good-" Deborah replied warmly, unable to take her eyes from his; this was perfect, and she didn't think that she had ever loved Martin more.
"No, wait!" Martin cut her off, pouting as if he had been denied the best part of this whole farce; he lowered his hands and rested them atop Deborah's knees, "I have more – I-I want to say more."
"Alright then." Deborah agreed, nodding slowly and smirking as she leaned forwards, resting her weight on her elbows, propped atop her knees; that was more like what she was used to; it was a good projection of what her life would be like from now on, "I'm looking forward to this."
Martin nodded hastily and released a shuddering breath, and with that he rose from the ground to perch on the edge of the bench beside her, taking Deborah's hands in his; the sensation of the signet ring, a hard curve pressed between their palms, only added to the shivering down her windpipe.
"Yeah….I…I just wanted to say that, I love you." Martin remarked, swallowing hard and blinking as if to try and bat away smoke; then, just as he was wont to once in a blue moon, Martin stilled, and looked into Deborah's eyes, and she was fixed in place as he launched into one of those long winded, perfectly competent and confident speeches that occasionally nestled under the surface of his stumbling, "I really love you, a-and I, I don't know much about marriage, because from what I've seen, i-it seems like there's not much really there, to be honest – b-but that's not what I want with you. I…I want everything with you, I-I-I want to do everything that life has to offer, b-but I want to be able to look around and know that you're right there…I just know that I want to marry you, a-and I don't know how that will be different to how we are now, b-but I know that it will be different, a-and I want that sort of different."
At first Deborah couldn't think of what to say; all that she could think about was how everything that wasn't Martin and herself seemed to fall silent and fade into a hazy blur, and all that mattered was the heated raging in her chest, that trembled like a moth resting on the strings of a violin. She had been married before, but she had never loved them, never trusted anyone, as much as she did Martin.
"Yes, yes I will." Deborah uttered after moments of silence, her breath coming out far more unsteadily than she had anticipated; letting out another short laugh, she turned Martin's hand over in hers, so that his ring was visible to the both of them, "Marry you, I mean…I will marry you."
"Good." Martin chuckled nervously, but he was smiling and, if Deborah wasn't mistaken, crying just a little bit, as he lifted her hand in his shaking ones, and slipped the ring, at least three sizes too big, designed for a fully grown man, onto her finger; Deborah watched his face instead of their hands, and couldn't help but smile as his eyes widened and he grimaced, nose scrunching "I mean, thank you – no, not thank you. I love you."
"I love you too." Deborah sighed, curling her fingers around his before Martin could withdraw them; then, taking the chance while she still could, she tipped forwards, lifting her free hand to trace her fingers over his cheek, and pressed her lips to his, almost toppling into the kiss.
Martin didn't let her pull away, but pushed back, his hand slipping to her hair, and Deborah didn't have the energy or the desire to pull away. They might have stayed like that for hours, falling in and out of each other, unaware of what was going on around them…Deborah didn't care…this was perfect.
I hope you enjoyed that. I'm not too sure about how well it flows, but it was nice to imagine.