AN: Hey. Not only is this chapter quite long comparison to some of the others... It's also the worst for whumping... I'm cringing just thinking about it . How can I write this stuff? Anyway...

Enjoy :3 x

As the trips went on, and the company earned a bit of extra money (I know, a shocking thought), the hotels began to improve. After three more trips, the hotels were at a decent standard, however the price was pairing up. Despite the fact that they saw enough of each other being shut in the flight deck for countless hours together, both Douglas and Martin immediately said they would share; neither wanted to room with either Arthur or Carolyn.

The first instance of them having to share was in Florida. They had three nights to endure before they went home. The room was small, but warm. Martin took the bed next to the window, so he could watch the city below from it when he couldn't sleep, without disturbing Douglas.

However, on the first evening, Douglas set about attempting to worm his way into a random woman's room instead. Martin found this offensive, but also felt a strange pang in his chest. A pang he knew had green eyes. Martin couldn't help but laugh when a defeated Douglas returned to the hotel room sulking about accidentally hitting on a married woman. So Douglas decided to call it a night and crawled into his bed at about eleven o'clock. He was one of those people; if sleep was his objective, all he had to do was lay his head on the pillow and he was gone. So Martin spent a couple of hours switching between watching the city lights shift and change, and watching the gentle rise and fall of Douglas' chest; the occasional flutter of his eyelids, his frequent tosses and turns as he slept. Finally, the routine made Martin's eyelids heavy, and he tucked himself snuggly under the covers, pulling them up to his chin as the darkness of sleep lapped at his mind, pulling him into a dreamless and peaceful slumber.

He was awakened, rather rudely, by the insistent knocking of one Arthur Shappey on the hotel room door.

"Come on, chaps! Breakfast time!" came his all-too-cheery-for-eight-in-the-morning voice. Martin groaned in protest, and Douglas sighed, although it sounded more like a growl. They simultaneously rolled out of bed, although the difference was that Douglas did so literally, and as such landed rather ungracefully on his backside, while Martin was stood, staring at him, before letting out a quiet chuckle, which accompanied a very wide smile. Doughlas met it with a scowl, but he couldn't stay mad when Martin continued to grin. It was such a rare sight, to see Martin smile so much; Douglas wouldn't let his pride quash it.

They got dressed quickly and opened the door, just as Arthur tried to knock again. Douglas managed to dodge Arthur's flying fist, but Martin wasn't so lucky, and he cried out in pain as Arthur's knuckles connected quite forcefully with his nose. Douglas suddenly rather regretted stepping aside, since Arthur would only have hit his chest…

"My god. Martin, are you alright?" he asked. Arthur's face twisted into one of shocked horror. Martin was clutching his face, as though it might fall apart it he took his hands away. Blood was dripping from them, and his cheeks were a similar shade of colour – wait, what? Why? "Martin?" Douglas repeated. Martin turned from them and silently fled to the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh, Arthur, you idiot boy…" Carolyn chided. Arthur gulped and stared at his hand fearfully, as if it might unleash its fury on him next.

"S-sorry, Mum… I-is Skip gonna be alright?" he asked shakily. Douglas sighed.

"You two go and eat, I'll look after him." He said. "Don't worry, Arthur," he continued, laying a comforting hand on the shaking steward's shoulder, "he'll be okay. He's not as brittle as he looks." He assured him. Carolyn gave him a sceptical look, but she knew he was just trying to calm Arthur down.

"O-okay…" Arthur stuttered.

"Come on, Arthur. Let's go get something to eat." Carolyn chipped in, and Arthur nodded, turning to walk down the corridor, towards the lift. "Make sure he's okay…" Carolyn said to Douglas, and the tone of care in her voice was one Douglas had only ever heard reserved for Arthur; the tone of a mother. Douglas nodded, and Carolyn turned to follow her son. Douglas closed the door quietly and went to the bathroom door. He raised his hand to knock, but decided against it.

"Martin? Are you alright?" he called. He heard Martin mumble something incoherent. "What was that?"

"Why do you care?" Martin snapped.

"Because, believe it or not Martin, I am your friend and I do worry about you." Douglas retorted, doing his best to hold back the sarcasm threatening to taint his words. "Can I come in, just to take a look at it?" he asked. A grunt of confirmation was all he got, so he opened the door.

Martin was stood in front of the mirror, his hands and t-shirt soaked with blood, as he attempted to dab at his nose with a clump of loo-roll, which was also drenched in red, Each time he touched his nose though, he flinched in pain.

"Is it broken?" Douglas asked. Martin shrugged.

"No idea…" he sighed. Douglas went over and gently prised Martin's hands from his nose, at which Martin flinched again in pain. "God I'm so pathetic…" Douglas faintly heard him murmur.

"What..?" he stopped, staring at Martin incredulously.

"Arthur broke my nose…" he muttered.

"He may be stupid, but he isn't weak." Douglas said, in a attempt to convince Martin he wasn't pathetic. But, as usual, a sarcasm he couldn't curb leaked into his voice, and Martin tried to scowl, but failed, overwhelmed by the pain and the tears welling up in his eyes and the colour rising in his cheeks.

"I know I'm weak, Douglas…" he whispered, trying not to let his voice break. "But you don't have to point it out…"

"I didn't-"

"Leave me alone, please…" he rasped; he had turned his face away from Douglas. Douglas went to say something, but he was cut off as Martin turned to him again, blood still pouring from his twisted, broken nose. Tears mingled with the blood, and his eyes and cheeks were flushed a dark pink. "Please!" he cried. Douglas moved his hand a little towards Martin's face, but he flinched away. Douglas lowered his hand. "Go." Martin said, firmly but quietly.

"But-"

"GO!" Martin wailed, his voice breaking in pain and desperation. Douglas raised his hands defensively and stepped backwards out of the bathrrom, before Martin slammed the door in his face. He stood for a moment, staring at the door in silence, before he sighed and walked out, going to join Carolyn and Arthur.

AN - Poor silly Martin...